btw weirdly enough, as fucking gay as i am, after a few runs of dream daddy and having joseph be an absolute tool next to me and looking at mary i genuinely really like mary and would love to date her while id like joseph to fuck off x1000 like seriously dude
What if, when Fake Chop first met FAHC, Aleks only spoke in Russian, but, the second time meeting, he spoke perfect English? I'd like to see FAHC's reactions 😂😂
Let me preface this by saying, I don’t know any Russian. I also didn’t want to look like I’m making fun of anyone from Russia by letting Google Translate butcher what I’m trying to get across, so anything Aleks says in Russian is in italics. I hope none of you mind, and if you do I will gladly accept the actual Russian translation for any of the italic sentences past this paragraph. I thank you for the prompt Anon (you are the only one who didn’t ask for hurt Aleks… you all sure like to make Fake Aleks suffer…) and I hope you enjoy this.
Aleks needs to make one thing perfectly clear; this is in no way his fault. It’s not his fault he had been in the middle of a phone call when Jeremy and Michael approached him; it’s not his fault that the guy on the other line had been one of his contacts in Russia; it’s not his fault Michael and Jeremy assumed he only spoke Russian.
He will admit, he could have corrected them after he ended his call. Could have turned around and said something like, “Can I help you?” Or, “You must be from Fake AH, I’m Aleks.” He could have done this, could have made things so much easier for all of them, but when he heard Michael say, “Shit, dude, you didn’t tell me he didn’t speak English.”
And Jeremy say, “I didn’t know!”
Aleks figured, why not screw with these two for a while. So, he ended his call, turned to the two guys standing right behind him, and cheerfully said in Russian, “I can’t believe you assholes know nothing about me. Like nothing. I’ve talked to your boss like six times on the phone. James talked to him. Brett met with him. How do you not know anything about me?”
The look of pure panic on both of their faces had Aleks holding back a laugh. He waits patiently for a response, hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels.
Michael stares at him, mouth agape, for a good ten seconds before stammering, “W-what do I say to him?”
“I don’t know,” Jeremy replies, shaking his head.
Aleks tilts his head to the side, narrowing his eyes in thought, almost as if he’s trying to follow the conversation. Suddenly, he nods, grinning, and says, “I should feel bad, messing with you assholes, but I really don’t.”
“Okay, just follow me…” Michael yells and Jeremy elbows him in the side. “Ow, what?”
“That’s not gonna help, Michael. Yelling at him. He’s going to think he did something wrong. Plus, yelling isn’t going to make him understand English any better.”
Michael concedes the point, nodding his head. “Sorry,” he says in Aleks’ direction. “Well, what do I do then?”
“Uh…” Jeremy waves his hand, beckoning Aleks forward, and says, “We…” he points between himself and Michael, “-we help you.”
Aleks points to himself, and Jeremy nods. “Yes, we’ll… uh… we’re friends.”
“Friends,” Aleks says, pretending to sound out the word.
“Yes!” Jeremy jumps up and down, shaking Michael. “He understands, Michael. He understands!”
“Jeremy, stop shaking me,” Michael screams at him, and Jeremy immediately stops. “Alright, let’s go.”
Aleks follows them towards Michael’s car, making a few more comments in Russian, shaking his head at Michael and Jeremy. He really feels insulted by their lack of knowledge about him; he’s like second in command in his crew (co-leader if he should be so bold… and he is so bold). The least Fake AH could do is put forth some effort to learn about him; even if it’s the simple fact that he’s bilingual.
It’s a fifteen minute ride to Fake AH’s hideout, and Aleks cheerfully insults Jeremy and Michael the entire way. He doesn’t say much in the elevator, nerves getting the better of him, but once the doors open he can’t help muttering, “Shit, dude.”
The place is impressive, all leather and chrome with a glowing sign that says Fake AH right behind an empty receptionist’s desk. So far, the only thing Fake Chop has is a warehouse that smells vaguely like piss, but they’ll get here eventually. Hopefully.
“Wait, what?” Michael whirls around, face scrunched up in confusion and anger. “You know English?”
Crap, Aleks thinks, the jig is up.
“He what now?” Jeremy turns to face Aleks, too, betrayal clearly etched across his face.
Aleks shrugs and whispers, “Next time fellas, just ask.” He then walks past Jeremy and Michael, heading towards Geoff’s office, ignoring the grumbles that follow him the whole way.
Warning: reference to sex, slight daddy kink (this isn’t smut though it’s quite cute imo it’s still a fluffy imagine as usual)
Description: Tate is insecure about his significant other being older than him.
So I don’t have a daddy kink but my mind was just rolling and this happened. It’s honestly so funny to me and I couldn’t just let it die in my head. I was actually planning to drag it out but I decided to keep it short :)
You run a hand through your hair, wishing you had brought a hair tie to get rid of your main distraction in order to focus all your attention on the essay rested before you. It’s meant to be a three-feet roll of parchment for your Transfiguration class, but it’s hard to keep yourself motivated. With the rapidly approaching N.E.W.T.s, and your desperation to remain in the good graces of all your professors and classes, the stress is starting to eat at your nerves.
You’re about to start on your second roll, when you suddenly feel a pair of cool hands cup themselves around your eyes. At once, you stiffen at the sensation as you straighten and bring your hands up to gently tap at the mysterious hands. “Uh, who is this?” You inquire, an airy quality to the question.
When the voice doesn’t respond, you drag your fingers over the hands. They’re familiar. You’ve spent one too many times running your hands over these, the course skin and callused fingertips, and the corner of your lips turn up as you briefly envision his face—how he would rip his hand away from yours, only to sport a soft smile from the gesture when he thought you weren’t looking. You know him better than either of you like to admit, like how he’s always had a soft spot for you despite his reputation and how you’ve always looked forward to his visits despite your own reputation.
You finally decide to start speaking: “I thought you had detention today.”
[The following review liberally spoils the ending a plot details of Chicago Typewriter. I recommend watching the drama before reading.]
Yet another drama that I took my sweet time finishing after it had officially stopped airing, and yet unlike with MoonClouds or Goblin, I really felt like CT was worth my time. At the very least, an interesting break from the norm, and one that deserves a bit of a closer look.
Chicago Typewriter is a supernatural reincarnation romance that spans over two timelines. The majority of the drama focuses on Han Se Ju, a novelist in modern-day Seoul, his devoted literary fangirl, Jeon Seol, and a quite literal ghost-writer, Yoo Jin Oh, who has been haunting the titular typewriter for the past 80 years. In their former lives the three were passionate freedom fighters in occupation-era Korea. The hypersensitive, hopelessly self-involved Se Ju as gotten himself a wicked case of writer’s block right at the beginning of a hugely lucrative project. Yoo Jin Oh offers to assist him in finishing his book through supernatural means, but that will mean compromising his principles and passing off someone else’s work as his own. It will also mean drawing closer to Jeon Seol, as the three are pulled further into the web of memories from their past lives, toward a shared fate.