#I will say that I find the term silly if used in a joking manner between people who know each other well enough for that

[doctorsiren]

I’m taking a hard stance on the kitten thing. I will say again: I’ve been harassed with that name before so I personally find it gross. I love Diego. I love Godot. I choose to ignore the kitten comments because I think it just makes his character seem weird and predatory towards Mia when they met and I don’t think it fits with a lot of the rest of his character. I’m not in the mood to have back and forths on this point because I’ve been personally harassed with that term and it makes me uncomfortable the way that it’s used. I have my opinions and will say them on my blog and if you don’t agree, you don’t have to be here. Yeah, that sounds kind of harsh but it’s the internet. This is my space I’ve made and there’s infinite other space that exists.

[argisthebulwark]

Do I Have Your Attention?

summary: calling your partner by their real name instead of a pet name. gn reader, no pronouns or y/n used feat: Vilkas, Farkas, Brynjolf, Miraak, Erandur, Cicero, Teldryn warnings: joke abt murder in Miraak's lol. masterlist

Vilkas knows you're trying to get under his skin and hates how effective it is. Despite all his grumbling he's grown to enjoy the sweet little names only you're allowed to call him. There's nothing wrong with his name, of course - but it doesn't summon that fuzzy feeling all your terms of endearment do. "Vilkas?" You call again, clearly trying to get his attention. He grits his teeth and pointedly ignores you. Tidying his desk has suddenly become very interesting. "Sweetheart?" "Hm?" He finally grunts, feigning nonchalance despite the color in his cheeks. "Oh, now you can hear me." He ignores how smug you sound, continuing to shuffle through paperwork. "How interesting."

Farkas doesn't like that. "What? No baby? No honey? Did I do something wrong?" He drops the rag, half polished armor entirely forgotten as he turns toward you. "No, I'm not upset with you." You clarify, quelling his nerves. "Why so formal?" Farkas adores the sweet things you say to him - calling him your honey, your dearest, any reminder that he is yours. "Sorry, my love." You crack a smile when he reaches for you, grabbing your hand. "Didn't mean to worry you." "I'm sure you'll find a way to make it up to me." He sighs, doing a terrible job at hiding how much he enjoys all of your attention.

Brynjolf knows you're trying to bother him. He's seen that mischievous look in your eye before and weighs his options - what will be more fun? He could play into your little game and pretend to be upset by the lack of affection, or he could turn it around. The way he says your name is aloof, almost cold. He watches your eye twitch and your grin falter. It's terribly hard to stifle a laugh when you clear your throat and struggle to continue the conversation. Oh, he knows he's gotten under your skin. Brynjolf listens to your request for proper recruit assignments and agrees, biding his time before taking it one step further. When your annoyance begins to wane he begins calling you by your last name, thrilled at the color your face turns. "Bryn, what are you doing?" "Not so funny now, is it? Guild Master?"

Miraak swears that he will kill you both if you don't knock it off. He threatens to burn your entire village to the ground if you don't cease whatever prank you've decided to play on him. In front of others, he will stomach your cold detachment - calling him by his name or title in front of those damned Greybeards. He knows a thing or two about manners, after all. But in the privacy of your bedroom, he is your love. He is the one who relishes in all those silly terms of endearment only you are permitted to use. He stews over your laughter, refusing to give in even when your lips press to his skin. "You are not funny." He grumbles, though he does lean closer for more of your touch. "Perhaps this is what was prophesized - you will be the death of me after all."

Erandur worries that he's done something wrong. He thinks over your day, struggling to pinpoint what social blunder he could have made. He knows that he isn't completely up to date on modern social courtesies but you do not physically appear upset. "I'm sorry, my beloved." He offers, praying that you will educate him. "For what?" "For whatever I've done to upset you. Please tell me so that it can be made right." When you explain that it's a prank, a joke intended to gauge his reaction, Erandur smiles sheepishly and tucks away that information for later. He kisses your forehead, grateful that you are not upset with him.

Cicero is not a fan of that. His brows furrow, trying to figure you out. You only use his name when you call him your silly Cicero, your pretty Cicero... never just his name. His head tilts when he notes the pink in your cheeks and the attentive way you're watching him. "Listener." He ventures, eyes narrowing. "Are you pranking your Keeper?" "I am." "Oh!" Cicero's hands clap when he revels in your laugh. "Silly Listener, you are quite funny." "Not as funny as you, my love." He grins at the kiss you press to his cheek, absolutely giddy at your approval.

Teldryn is a bit taken aback - you've called him Tel for years. And now you're dropping his full name out of the blue? You've never been one for overly sweet terms of endearment but he likes the shortened version of his name you use. He removes his helmet and peers over, trying to figure you out. "What did I do to deserve this treatment?" "What treatment?" "The full government name." He's relieved when a laugh bursts out of you, pausing your trek to slap a hand on his shoulder. "Oh, Tel. You're too funny." He wants to chastise you, but the little pet name and the way you draw near to him is fairly distracting. "It was just a little prank." "A prank?" He snorts, indulging in a short kiss to your forehead. "You have too much time on your hands."

[michuga]

one of your girls

synopsis: after the death of his parents in an accident, your family takes in a young boy. he becomes one of you, and you can't imagine a life without him. you watch him grow up, and slowly come to terms with the fact that he was never yours for the taking. (you were the one who was always there, it's not fair.)

pairing: jk x reader

content: childhood friends, unrequited love, hoseok is your brother, sweet domestic jk, loving dynamic, hobi and jk bickering, lowercase intended

warnings: swearing, implied sex, traumatic family backstory

wordcount: 2.9k

this is not a love story ^^

a/n: my first piece, feedback is appreciated!

"hoseok, this is jeongguk. he will be living with us from now. be nice to him okay, hoba? tell your sister to play nice too," your father says.

"dad, why does he have to live with us?"

"his mommy and daddy are on a long trip and he only has us to take care of him. make him feel welcome."

…

"daddyyy can i have ice crea-" you halt.

a pair of boba eyes stare right back at you.

"who are you?" you ask, tilting your head to the side.

"…-koo" the soft voice says.

"huh? i can't hear you."

"baby, this is jeongguk. i was just telling hobi, he's going to be living with us from now on." your father gently repeats his introduction, now that you've joined them.

"oh. hi! daddy can i have ice cream." you deadpan, dismissing your father's words.

your father chuckles. "it's pretty late sweatheart. how about you show ggukie our spare room and we'll discuss it, yeah?" he suggests patiently.

"ugfffff fiiiiiineeee" you exasperate.

turning around on your heels, you head straight towards said room.

when you don't hear footsteps behind you, you turn around.

"hurry up silly, don't just stand there! we have ice cream waiting for us!!" you say with the utmost urgency.

looking up at you with wide eyes and fascination, he nods and follows suit.

"jeon jeongguk, why is my sock wet???" hoseok yells in the loudest voice he can cough out.

the sound of a crash echoes throughout the house.

"yo, you good?" barging into jeongguk's room, hoseok checks in on the younger boy. he finds him staring back at him with wide eyes and flushed cheeks.

"hyung, i can explain.." avoiding the older's gaze, he finds random objects around his room to look at instead.

"well you better start because these are my favorite pair. were. were my favorite pair, you sick sick monster." he spits out, half accusatory and half joking.

"what's all this noise?" you make an appearance, your day disrupted by the boys of your house and all the ruckus they never fail to cause seven days a week.

"nothing! it's nothing. hoseok was just telling me it's my turn to do laundry today." he answers, with a tight lipped smile.

leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed, hoseok raises his eyebrows. sporting an amused grin, he adds to the conversation, "he's right, it's nothing. aside from the fact that we live with a pervert."

"what's that supposed to mean?" you ask, confused.

jeongguk throws a pillow at hoseok and misses.

"don't be embarrassed ggukie, it's completely normal at this age." your brother teases.

"i said it's nothing! don't you have homework to do?" he rushedly says, pushing you out of his room, leaving a snickering boy behind.

"i do but you guys are being so loud.. yah! stop pushing me." you scold him, annoyed.

"yah? where are your manners? i'm older than you."

"two years are nothing. kiss my ass." you giggle and run away.

rolling his eyes, he goes back to his room to give hoseok a piece of his mind.

"angel, can you come here for a minute?" you hear a voice calling out for you.

"mm gguk? what do you nee-" you muffle, mouth stuffed with food.

not quite finishing your sentence, you halt in your steps.

jeongguk, standing in his room infront of his full length mirror, inquires. standing much taller and broader than you've ever seen him.

has he always looked like that?

did he get taller?

"does my hair look good like this? i wasn't sure whether to slick it back or leave it down. what do you think?"

words.

words?

words!

"why don't you ask hobi?" you finally blurt out, after what seems like an eternity of ogling like a damn idiot.

"he's busy. something about a group project?"

"oh.. slicked back is nice. what's the occasion?" you answer, recovering from the mental bump you just tripped on.

"i have a date," he says with a bright, bright smile. and if it wasn't for the angelic sight in front of you distracting you, you would've heard the sound of your heart breaking.

"darling, can you please check on jeongguk? i'm worried about him. the boy hasn't gotten out of his room for the past three days." your mother says to you on the phone, voice laced with concern.

"i've told that idiot time and time again, that girl was trouble. she's no good for him! he never listens." you half yell, irritatedly.

"be. nice." your mother scolds. "first heartbreaks are never easy, i'm sure the last thing he wants is to hear you gloat. just make sure he's okay, yeah?"

"obviously i will, that goes without saying.. i'm just upset that he always gets taken advantage of."

back home, you walk over to his room.

as you're about to knock, you hear sniffles on the other side.

"..ggukie? can i come in?"

after a few seconds of silence, the door cracks open, left ajar. no fluffy hair in sight.

you go in.

the night ends with both of you in bed, limbs tangled. his tears wet on both of your shirts, with a few of your own falling as well.

"did you cut your hair?" jeongguk asks you.

"what are you talking about? looks the same to me." your brother says, happily downing his breakfast unaffected.

"i did actually. thank you, jeongguk, for noticing." you enunciate, glaring at your brother on the opposite end of the dining table.

sitting at the far end of the table, your father sits, reading the newspaper.

as your mother brings the rest of the side dishes to the dining table, she asks, "hey jeongguk, will suki be joining us for dinner tonight?"

"uh, i'm not sure yet. she still has to get some work done for her internship. i'll let you know before if she is, though." he pauses his bickering with your brother, and answers your mother casually.

"suki? who's suki?" biting your lower lip you ask, dreading the answer.

"jeonggukie's little girlfriend. tell us, is she cute?" hobi teases.

"what the hell, hoseok? back off. and for the love of god please don't scare her off." jeongguk bites back.

you roll your eyes with a deep sigh.

"what was that for?" the younger boy asks, raising an eyebrow.

"nothing."

"it was clearly not nothing. spit it out?"

"no."

"yes?"

"fine. you don't have the best taste in women. she's either a liar or a cheater, or both actually, considering your track recor-"

"i'm gonna stop you right there." jeongguk warns, sternly. "before you say something you're gonna regret."

you stay silent,

"seems like i'm not that hungry after all." you retreat to the kitchen, taking your plate with you.

"what the hell was that?" you hear your brother ask, appearing right behind you.

"just the truth. someone had to say it."

"why are you acting like this? are you mad at him, is that what this is about?"

"why would i be mad at him?"

"exactly. he's nothing but kind to you. he treats you're his own little sister. did you have to snap at him like that? you know he didn't deserve it. cut him some slack."

little sister.

clenching your jaw, you turn on your heels and head for your room.

…

there you are again, outside his door. twiddling your thumbs, you stand there nervously. just like you did a few years ago, right after his first breakup. only this time, you were the one who hurt him. not any other girl. and for that you're ashamed.

no matter how many times the three of you bickered, you never went to bed upset with one another. you cherished each other far more than that.

when your family took jeongguk in, given the nature of jeongguk's parents' passing, they taught you never to take anything in life for granted. they also taught you that tomorrow is never guaranteed. you wonder how he left things with his parents that night. were they on good terms?

"need something?" the door in front of you abruptly opens, and a cold voice asks.

you look up. you notice the usually soft orbs filled with fondness are now replaced with buckets of ice.

"can we talk..? i don't like how we left things.."

"you mean how you left things. if i remember correctly, you're the one who stormed out."

"i know, and i'm trying to apologize. it's just that, all those nights those shitty girls hurt you, i'm always the one who has to put you back together."

"then don't." he lightly bumps shoulders with you as he walks past you.

"hey where are you going?"

"suki's, not that it's any of your business. don't wait up."

fuck. that did not play out how you wanted it to.

as you turn around to correct your mistake, he was already long gone.

fuck.

with hoseok moved out, and with your parents usually at work, it's mostly been you and jeongguk alone around the house.

it's been a week. jeongguk still hasn't talked to you since your slip up. you feel gross. you and jeongguk have never gone this long without talking. sure you'd always bicker and stop talking for a while, but never this long.

you had tried calling. double, triple texting. you could never quite meet at the right times, it was either you leaving or coming back from school, or jeongguk leaving for classes.

or to see his girlfriend.

it was only when your mother shared that jeongguk. was to move out to his dorms soon, since "it would be much more efficient and time-saving", you decided you've had enough.

no more.

"i need to talk to you." you say, matter-of-factly.

jeongguk had just come back from his evening class, and you knew he had nothing planned for the rest of the day. you made sure to ask hoseok.

"so talk." he replies setting his back down, and staring at you with crossed arms.

"look, i'm really, really sorry about what i said. it was wrong of me to bring up the past like that, especially when it was to make a point during an argument. it was low of me, and i really hate that we're not talking, ggukie i'm sorr-"

his eyes softened when he saw tears welling up in your eyes.

"why though? why would you say those things? that's what i don't understand." he asks.

it pains you that he's been thinking about this. why would someone he's given everything to add to his misery? what those girls did was terrible, but hurtful words coming from you? this was different, and both of you knew it.

"jeongguk. you are the sun. you are the constellations in the sky, and all the stars that make them up. the people who hurt you like that don't deserve you. they don't deserve your tears or your time, and it hurts me every time i see you like that. i was just frustrated, i guess. not that all that justifies my lashing out.." you answer, the last sentence coming out almost hushed.

you stare at the floor, waiting for a response.

footsteps. and then you feel yourself engulfed by a warm embrace.

"okay."

"okay?" you repeat.

"okay." he says with finality.

you exhale the deep breath you had held in, finally relaxing in his arms and hugging him back.

it's your 21st birthday, and you're out celebrating with hoseok, jungkook, and a few of your friends.

now that can finally drink, you decided to start off with a bang.

and boy were you absolutely shitfaced.

"hobi you look funny" you say with a giggle, pointing at your brother.

"i think it's time to get you home, yeah?" hoseok says, glancing over to jungkook sipping on his second drink, "jk, are you good to drive?"

"yeah, all good. let's get this one to bed" he says, standing up and grabbing your bag.

…

parked outside of the house both of you grew up in, jeongguk slowly leads your stumbling figure out the car.

"do you find me attractive?" you blurt out suddenly, as he swings your other leg out the car doorframe and onto the ground.

taken aback, he answers, chuckling, "where's this coming from?"

"answer." you say with a pout and a serious expression.

"you're beautiful, angel."

"that's not what i asked. do you see yourself being attracted to me?"

"i don't know baby.. we've grown up together, i hadn't really given it much thought. maybe? why?"

he hears sniffles.

"hey, hey.. why are you crying?" turning to face you, he gently wipes away the tears from your cheek and cradles your face.

you lean into his touch with closed eyes, tears still flowing.

"you probably like older, more sophisticated women. sexy, life put together.. you're gonna get married, have kids.. " you trail off.

jeongguk isn't blind, or stupid. after a few incidents, he caught on. he finally realized a while ago that you had a crush on him. little did he know, the word "crush" didn't even begin to describe how you felt about him.

"already have my life planned out for me, huh?" he laughs. "let's get you to bed, c'mon."

"i don't have to be the one. i just want to be one of your girls tonight. can we pretend just for today?"

he stands there, stunned. your request hasn't quite registered in his mind yet. maybe you meant something else? surely you weren't asking him what he thought you were asking him.

you went on, "please just let me be yours for one night. i want to experience what it feels like to be loved by you for one night. to have your undivided attention. for one. night."

"baby, you've always been loved by me.. you know that." he says, empathetically.

"it's not the same and you know it." you spit out, averting your gaze from his eyes to the floor. you had already known this very fact, but being reminded of that your feelings aren't reciprocated doesn't seem to hurt any less.

"it is agony, spending my life with you and pretending like every minute of every day i don't want to inhale as deep as my measly lungs allow, to take in your scent for as long as humanly possible. to taste you, to savor the flavor of what you last had on your lips,"

your sniffles get louder. "to grow old with you.."

it breaks his heart seeing you like this. he never realized the extent of your feelings, and if he can take away your pain, he would. but he can't feel for you what you feel for him, that he was sure of. so he stayed quiet.

"in a perfect world, i could have what i want. but it's not, so humor me. one night, and i'll be content. i'll take this moment and burn it into my memory, just give me this one fix. it's enough for me. please.." you plead. like an addict, you're desperate and willing to go to the ends of the earth for a drop of anything he's willing to give you, you plead.

"angel, are you sure about this? i don't want to hurt you.." he finally speaks up. looking back and forth from one of your eyes to the other, making sure this is truly what you desire, not some drunken whim. although, he doubts you would've been able to talk so coherently, had it been the latter.

your ears perk up, eyes widening. are you really this close? after all those years, is it finally your turn?

you nod frantically. "yes, yes. no commitment, i promise. i need this."

"if this is the one thing i can do for you, i'm all yours."

of course he would do it. if it means taking away your heartache for a while, he would do it a hundred times over. he can never say no to you. he was never good at that.

taking you gently by the hand, both of you finally go inside.

jeongguk was nothing but sweet and gentle. you couldn't tell if it was his nature, or if he was driven by his fondness and care for you, but you expected nothing less. you were a generally happy child growing up, but you swore that night cured something in you. a place no therapist, counselor or friend could reach. jeongguk awakened something inside you. it's like for the first time, you finally felt seen. like no one had ever laid their eyes on you before. it felt like your first time being touched, everything was ten times as intense. as far as you were concerned, anyone before and after jeongguk didn't matter, and didn't count. you had never felt so important, you felt like a rare diamond. he picked you up and gave you purpose.

you came undone together and it was the sweetest thing you had ever experienced. nothing your limited imagination would ever come up with compares to this. the world disappeared, and everything boiled down to this very moment.

you spot him in your balcony, smoking a cigarette.

"you really should quit, you know. it's bad for you." you speak out, slowly walking up to him, wearing his shirt.

he ruffles your hair, smiling softly.

"happy birthday, beautiful."

both of you stay there for a while, side by side.

within those four walls and beneath the one person who was always your real home, you finally got a taste of heaven.

even if you were one of his girls, just for one night.

[merbear25]

Hey hi! Can you do china x reader romantic drabble where reader who's time travel back in time to prevent him from making a really bad decisions but like, reader themselves not really taking anything seriously, like they sprinkling in brainrot and slang words in their warnings and when they find out they can't go back to their og time their just like "it's so joever" (also i adore your writing! ^_^)

Hey, hey! Thank you for your lovely words at the end. Admittedly, I’m not super up-to-date with slang, so I used it sparingly. I wasn’t really sure how this would turn out, but I’m pretty happy with it! I hope you like what I’ve written for you! 💜💜

CW: gn!reader, fluff, humor

The things we do for love (China)

You said that you were here to help prevent him from making a mistake and yet there you were lazily lounging on the sofa. With his pouting in the corner lulling you out of your haze, you leaned over to get a better look at him.

“Wassup with you?”

Offended that you would even have to ask, let alone in such a lackadaisical manner, he huffed at your casual tone, “If what I did was so tragic that you had to come back here and stop me, then where exactly is your sense of urgency?”

“Already told you that I went back a little too far and still got time before it happens. Plus, we went over it all, so what’s the biggie?”

“The “biggie” is that you’ve been making a mess of my place since you got here!”

Looking around your favorite spot to crash, you could see where he was coming from. Perhaps you had made yourself too at home. You got up to properly apologize, causing him to be just a tad more huffy, which made him appear that much cuter to you.

With your sorries being coupled with a tender hug from the side, he bit his lower lip. Patting you on the back, he was reluctant to give into the warmth you were offering.

“What did my future self see in you?” He teased.

“Maybe it was my insane amount of rizz?” You joked, placing a soft peck on his cheek.

You laughed as he rolled his eyes in agony. “Please, you’re going to make my eyes roll out of my head if you don’t stop with that dreadful slang.”

“Oh, don’t be like that! I know you love being rizzed up by me.” The playfulness in your voice was what made this exchange bearable for him. Your sweet smile and lively laugh were the most endearing things about you.

He knew exactly what the future him saw in you; you were just the right amount of silly he needed in his life to keep him young. Pulling you in closer, the embrace you found yourselves in was one of both companionship and love.

“Just don’t ruin the moment by saying something that’s…What was the term you used?” He purposefully let his teasing linger, “‘Out of pocket?’”

With your joking groan, your smile met his and the joy you felt in that moment couldn’t be compared to anything else. As your lips met in a moment of tenderness, you were glad that you’d been given the chance to travel back in time.

[rpdepartment]

ROLEPLAYING  GLOSSARY

new words might be hard to understand right away if you’re new... here’s some basic glossary to help getting started! some are more obvious than others, of course, but i know lots of people who might be confused, especially people who don’t speak english as their first language, so i figured it’s better to write down any “important” words

this list might be updated every now and then!!!

A

activity: the abount of time spent on a specific blog. it can be high, medium, low, or even lead to hiatus or semi-hiatus

affiliates: blog canons who tend to be tied together

archived: an archived blog is what remains of a blog no longer used, but that the player prefers not to delete. The blog might’ve been remade, so always check!

AU: alternate universe, when the story setting changes completely. 

C

canon-divergent: a blog that follows canon only to a certain extent, making significant enough changes to distance itself from the original version of the character

crack: silly posts, more often than not out of character, meta and meant to be jokes. crack intreactions are generally considered non-canon for the blog

D

dash commentary: in-character comments about what’s currently happening on dash, like other characters’ thread or replies to asks

DNI: do not interact; a list of people or blogs you don’t want to interact with, for a reason or another

double: people who play as the same character

E

event: a roleplay event is, for lack of better terms, an event that lasts for a generally specified amount of time, that involves a handful of characters to the whole dash. examples of events could be working together to save someone from another muse, or simply partecipating to a holiday ball

exclusive: a blog who doesn’t roleplay or ship with doubles of certain muses, since they already have mains who play them.

F

FC: faceclaim, the face used to represend a character, usually OCs

G

godmodding: any form of cheating to win an argument or a fight, usually involving metagaming or ignoring the partner’s actions to succeed. an example of godmodding could be the good ol’ “it’s an hologram” thread

H

hard block: blocking someone permanently

hiatus: a blog on hiatus means that the player isn’t going to be around for a long amount of time, generally unspecified

HUB: when someone makes secondary blogs to roleplay with, they usually keep their primary blog (the one they use to follow others) as a HUB where they can redirect others to all their other blogs

I

IC: in character; what your character says

icon: small images used to represend your characters’ expressions

interest checker: a post, or a google sheet, people ask to like, comment or fill up to see if they’re interested interacting with a certain character or blog. 

M

magic anon: anons of bygone eras, who cast “spells” on muses in their askbox for a specified amount of time. for example, a magic anon could “transform” your character into a cat for a week, and expects you to roleplay the situation accordingly

main: a RP partner with who the player interacts with more often; some mains can be or become exclusives

meta: metagaming, playing in character using knowledge the characters themselves don’t know, but the player do. it’s the RP equivalent of knowing how to deal with a boss in a game because you watched a walkthrough, making your character break the fourth wall and godmod to win

moved: a blog that was remade, usually either reusing the same URL or keeping a post with a link to the remade blog, leaving behind an archived blog

muse: the character you play as

musing: sentences, prose or lyrics, often written in stylistic manners, that represent the muse’s feelings, thoughts, relationships and history ( you can find a lot of them here )

mun: the player. this is you!!!

mutual: someone you follow, and who follows you back. a lot of blog are mutuals-only, meaning they’ll roleplay only with people they follow and who follows them back

O

OOC: out of character; when the mun talks. the opposite of IC

P

para/multipara: long threads, written in paragraphs

permanent starter call: generally speaking, permanent starter calls are posts the mun asks others to like or comment to make sure they’re “allowed” to send asks, interact, dashcomment or mention in other threads

promo: a post where the players promote their blog and their character, where they often give an idea of who the character they play as is, very basic rules and links to rules and about pages. please reblog those if you want to interact with them

prompt: also called ask memes or sentence starters, posts with a bunch of pre-made sentences used to break the ice and send as asks. they can be both in character and out of character ( you can find a lot of them here )

R

reblog karma: when someone reblogs a prompt, it’s common courtesy to send them something before reblogging the same prompt, or at least wait a few minutes and then reblog from the source

RP: roleplay

RPC: roleplay community, the “main” fandom you’re roleplaying with

rules password: a word or sentence left in the rules page of a blog, meant to be sent to prove the mun you read their rules. while the trend died down and even those who leave passwords generally agree that it isn’t something you’re forced to send, a lot of people at least notify their partner that they read their rules

S

semi-hiatus: a blog on hiatus means that the player isn’t going to be around very often for a long amount of time, generally unspecified

selectivity: depending on a mun’s selectivity, it means how open they are to play with new people, or non-mutuals. non-selective blogs are open to anyone to join, semi-selective blogs are much more reserved, being much more open to mutuals and people you know, while selective blogs are more often than not mutuals only and tend to have mains or even exclusive partners. someone being selective doesn’t mean they will never roleplay with you, and someone who’s non-selective isn’t automatically better than others. decide how selective you are with your blog based on nothing but your own comfort

softblock: blocking and unblocking someone in your follower list, not blocking them completely but still making sure they don’t follow you . A lot of mutuals-only blogs prefer to softblock people they don’t follow anymore

starter: the first post in a thread

starter call: a post muns ask others to generally like or comment if they want a starter for their muse. they usually have a specified limit

T

tag dump: the list of tags the mun uses in their blog, often to help people finding specific kind of threads (like ships and crack), or to make sure tumblr saves the most elaborate ones expect tumblr to not save them and remake the tag dump a few times

thread: the interactions between two (or more) muses

V

VC: voiceclaim, the voice used to represend a character

[toxifoxx]

how would you describe william’s aesthetic?

before freddy’s, what were his interests as a kid (besides rabbits and robots obviously /silly)

did anyone find out he was trans without his knowledge? how did it impact his influence on others? maybe the kids’ perception of their father??

what are the ways does he stim? is he like a rabbit in terms of his mannerisms?

how likely is it that i could yap with him about rabbits? /silly

what kind of music does he like (do you have a playlist,,)?

what nicknames does he have for his kids (direct to each one && referring to them all)?

uhm umm … blinks . that’s all i got in me :3c

uhmmm good question! i've recieved one like this before actually and the answer was kind of uhhh i dont know. i know about four different aesthetics and none of them are particularly similar to what william has going on. and it also depends if you mean clothes-wise or… decor-wise? whatever 'deeply repressed homosexual father who used to be a theatre kid' looks like

i suppose drawing and reading! he loved sci-fi books in particular, which eventually end up being the reason why the sister location Looks Like That. and he likes drawing but never particularly becomes a professional at it, even into adulthood.

next questions got long so readmore

i think william tried to present himself as a boy in school but most kids caught onto the fact he was trans, adding another thing onto the pile of reasons to bully him for. perhaps its the reason why he had a violent outburst, leading to his parents also finding out he's trans through the school informing them. through college, most people aren't aware he's trans because he plays it off so well. even the people he's sleeping with (he insists the lights be off, and usually both him and his partner are drunk). i kinda imagine it like that one dude who had like multiple wives and they all didn't realize he was trans (i forgor his name :[…(NEVERMIND I FOUND IT IT WAS BILLY TIPTON)). as for his kids it seems likely they might find out. lizzie might have been too young to remember william being pregnant with evan and evan wouldn't have ever seen him as such, so most likely only michael knows. and he was probably taught that it was a normal, unremarkable thing that he should not bother to tell anyone about. another notable case would be medical staff with william giving birth + the springlock injury. i think clara and henry were very set on keeping things quiet there and ensured it didn't get out. actually sorry i went off the rails a bit i just realized this says wqithout his knowledge Ermmm just ignore the stuff he'd know about

YES. he does have rabbit mannerisms. i think he thumps his foot sometimes, jumps around a bit/binkies, i suppose sprawling out counts (motherfucker takes up the whole couch/desk just because he wants to be annoying). and as for stimminggg this one also counts for rabbit mannerisms but he likes chewing things i think. taps his fingers. used to do hand flapping but he essentially forced himself to stop doing it.

very likely. he loves rabbits and could talk about them for hours. and he would be quite excited for someone to share that passion i think! its not hard to prompt him into infodumping about them

i do Not have a playlist mostly because i have very few songs that are that old. however i do think he enjoys classic rock music. and i mentioned a few artists i think he might like before but id have to look for that ask. i think if it has a guitar he likes it

michael: mikey, mike elizabeth: lizzie, liz evan: doesn't really have a nickname all of them: i think he'd call them his baby bunnies in a joking manner. but also somewhat seriously. yaknow?

THANK YOU FOR THE ASK ^_^ this was very fun to answer yippee!!!!

[enderwomansmp]

𝕡𝕖𝕥𝕟𝕒𝕞𝕖𝕤 𝕔𝕔!𝕞𝕔𝕪𝕥 𝕨𝕠𝕦𝕝𝕕 𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕚𝕣 𝕤/𝕠

A/N: Hey!! :D I decided to write some short headcannons when this idea came to me, although they're just brief- that's mainly as I recently moved to university so please bear with me,,, Also, they will contain some repeating petnames, but there's only so many ones I wanted to use/could see anyone potentially using/saying. I hope these are still cute and enjoyable to read nonetheless, though! <3

(Also, as a side note, I want to write more hcs, fluff or smut or even angst, so feel free to send in reqs! Requests are open for anything at all atm too! Also, in addition to all this, I plan to write and post some smut hcs soon, so keep an eye out for that :D )

Warnings/genre/notes: fluff, established relationship(s), headcannons, English+Dutch+Spanish petnames

cc!Dream

baby // gorgeous

Although simple, the most commonly used petname Dream used for you has to be baby or some variant of it. Simply put, he just thinks you’re so small and adorable and precious, as pure and sweet as a rose, that he believes the petname suits your perfectly, so simple yet encapsulating all of the above to him.

The petname gorgeous is also one Dream uses often, although perhaps not quite as frequently as the former. Although Clay isn’t the type to use overly long and elaborately ornate words to describe most things in life, he is completely enamoured by every essence of your being and your body and thus, the petname rolls off his lips so naturally. Ultimately, he thinks you’re beautiful, supposed imperfections and all, and therefore wants to express that to you with pride.

cc!Sapnap

babe // cutie

Again, although a simple nickname which most couples use in the beginning, Sapnap almost always default to it nonetheless even after being together for such a long time. The way the petname babe rolls off his tongue and lips so easily, almost like habit, proves how suitable he finds it for you. He just thinks you're incredibly adorable and sweet, completely mesmerised by and deeply in love with every aspect of your being, the petname therefore is almost always the first thing that Sapnap thinks to call your, so befitting of such an innocent and sweet thing as you.

However, equally, the petname cutie or some variant of it is similarly frequented from Sapnap's vocabulary. Alike the above, Sapnap, in a similar vein, just can't help but admire how beautiful and cute you are, thinking you're the most angelic and sweet being to ever grace his presence. Even if you're mad or sad or otherwise, Sapnap still thinks your mannerisms and body and appearance alike are absolutely adorable- your personality only serves to enhance such cute aspects of your even further.

cc!Georgenotfound

sugar // honey

Although George is sometimes more hesitant to express his love through words and finds actions easier in such a sense, in the end George does enjoy calling you cute names. And when it comes to such petnames, the most frequented one by George when referring to you has to be sugar. It just feels so natural to him; George believes you're the sweetest person he's ever met, never failing to make him grateful and humbled by your kindness. In this sense, the petname seems so perfect to describe you with, portraying just how sweet you are- sweeter than sugar.

Similarly, the name honey often slips it way by George's lips when calling for your attention. After all, as aforementioned, George thinks you're incredibly sweet and loving and therefore thinks the petname honey is equally as befitting of you.

cc!Karljacobs

nimrod // baby/babe

Although the term is often used by Karl in exchange for cursing or swears, over time it became habit of his to call you a nimrod. Of course, it all began as a teasing joke, calling you, alike Karl often did to his friends, a nimrod, just to see your cute pout. However, over time Karl found himself enjoying calling you such a name, and over time it took on a whole new meaning of endearment between the two of you, alike how many couples use silly and personal nicknames. Whenever the word escapes Karl's lips, he's always greeted with your adorable giggle or joking pout as a response- and when he gets a response as cute as that, how can he not call you that as often as possible?

In comparison, despite the petname being far more common than the above among couples, the term baby or babe is equally frequented often by Karl when referring to you. It may be common and simple, but due to the aforementioned use of nimrod, such a simple and more serious petname as babe or baby (or any other variation) appears much more meaningful and sweet within your relationship. After all, Karl ultimately believes you're so incredibly precious and cute that calling you his baby feels so perfect (even though one could undoubtedly argue Karl is just as befitting of such a term of endearment).

cc!Badboyhalo

muffin // angel

For Bad, the term muffin can be a complex one with a meaning of which fluctuates and changes often. After all, he loves muffins, they're so incredibly sweet and delicious- they're his favourite food. However, equally, the noun has also taken on various other meanings, some perhaps and often even negative, labelling his friends as "muffins" or "muffinheads" when they're acting in a way that Bad deems is out of line. Nevertheless, in spite of how confusing the meaning of the word can be when you dig deep enough, such a situation actually, in Bad's mind, fits perfectly when it comes to you. You're easily the most precious, sweet and wonderful person in Bad's life, and he cherishes you therefore just as much as he does muffins themselves. He firmly believes you are just as sweet as the tasty treats. However, on the flipside, there are times where you inevitably irritate Bad or say some words he may have a distaste for, and in such circumstances, the noun muffin suffices just as well, labelling you a muffinhead just alike he would his friends.

However, another term that will always spring to Bad's mind when he thinks of you is angel. It would simply be utterly impossible for Bad to put into words how much you mean to him. Even when you've both been together for a long time, he will still find himself dreaming of you when you're away and will find himself growing excited and nothing short of joyous even just when you're in his proximity. One look at your face and he is reminded of just how perfect and wonderful you are to him, appearing almost alike an ethereal goddess or, well, angel. There has even been times where he labelled you his "guardian angel"- in all sincerity, when you dedicate so much attention to his emotions and always offer to take care of him or unwanted menial tasks, how can you expect him not to think so highly of you?

cc!Quackity

sweetie // mi amor or cariño

When it comes to Quackity, it is plain for anyone to see that the most common petname he will choose to call you is undoubtedly sweetie or a variation of such term. Particularly outside of the limitations and pressure of the internet, Quackity will find himself referring to you as his sweetie all the time. It's almost become an embarrassing instinct- to such a degree that whenever Quackity refers to you as such if you enter his room whilst he's on call with his friends, they will all sigh and roll their eyes, teasing him. Nevertheless, the petname persists as commonplace in his vocabulary. After all, you're easily the sweetest and most selfless person of whom he holds very dear to him. In addition, the slight smile that breaks out onto your lips when he utters the petname is easily the sweetest sight mankind has ever had the delight of viewing.

In spite of this, however, Quackity also recognises there are many other terms to utilise to see your precious smile- namely Spanish petnames. In a sense, it's only natural and largely inevitable that he would call you names such as mi amor or cariño. Where, in his personal life and around friends (although particularly those from back home in Mexico), Quackity speaks Spanish rather often, such names will simply spill from his lips when talking to you. And, even if you perhaps don't fully understand, the petnames are sure to make you blush an adorable crimson red as you smile and giggle shyly at the male. Conversely, if you are able to fully comprehend the Spanish rambling of his adoration for you, when you throw an adorably flirtatious name and/or one-liner back at Quackity he will still get to hear your wonderful voice, made better and somehow even more beautiful by his mother-tongue. It's enough to make him blush and melt. Either way, calling you Spanish petnames yields wonderful results for Quackity whilst also giving him more ways to express his deep and passionate love for you.

cc!Foolish

honey // sweet pea

When Foolish thinks of you, one of the first petnames which comes to mind has to be honey. Put simply, Foolish ultimately believes you're as sweet as honey with a character and personality so vibrant and bright and uplifting as honey's golden and yellow, sunny hues. Overall, he considers himself to be the luckiest guy in the entire universe whenever he takes just one look at your adorable face. Alike honey, you're almost sickly sweet, it's as though, in his mind, you're far too good for him, and he wants to be able to express how highly he thinks of you.

In addition, although perhaps a more unusual or unconventional petname to some, another petname Foolish finds so befitting of you is the term sweet pea. In truth, the male would be quick to admit he finds the petname plainly silly yet inexplicably adorable, however such feelings can, in a sense, be equally associated with yourself in his mind. As aforementioned, Foolish counts himself lucky for, as he would put it, having the sweetest person ever to call his partner. However, you similarly always make the man laugh with your joking and antics, similar to the humorous aspect of the petname sweet pea. Furthermore, both of you are so close to each other within your relationship, much alike a couple of cozy peas in a pod.

cc!Fundy

liefje // babe

Although, in all honesty, somewhat a novelty within your relationship, the Dutch petname of liefje has become a common term Fundy will choose to label you. Of course Fundy will speak Dutch in his personal life fairly often, particularly when speaking to other Dutch individuals such as his family or even when mumbling to himself. Yet, when around you, Fundy feels little desire to speak Dutch. Nevertheless, Dutch petnames gradually crept their way into Fundy's commonplace vocabulary. It largely began as a way to see your reaction as he had wanted to observe your potential smile or expression of scrunched-up confusion, however he was most certainly not disappointed. Your adorably curious eyes and expression of confusion paired with admiration stole his breath and since that exact moment, Fundy had never looked back on using such a petname. You now understand the term to be the Dutch equivalent to 'Darling' or 'Love', however the Dutch term feels much more intimate and special coming from Fundy. Whenever he speaks the word with such genuine endearment, the love he has to give to you practically radiates from him in a warm embrace of appreciation.

Despite all of the above, more common English petnames still play a huge role in your relationship, although so much can be said to be particularly true of the petname babe. Although common and simplistic, the petname feels so special coming from Fundy, often in the way he will say it. Even where he is frustrated, tired or busy, when the aforementioned name leaves his lips, his voice will immediately soften regardless, the love and adoration for you evident in his tone regardless of his mood. After all, you're so precious and special to him, and the term babe seems to perfectly encapsulate such feelings, only served to be made sweeter by Fundy's own voice.

cc!Wilbur

sunshine // sweetheart

Most often, Wilbur tends to call you by the petname sunshine. Simply put, Wilbur is truly grateful for your existence in his life. Although cliche, he truly believes, unequivocally, that you are the light in his life. Even in the darkest of times when Wilbur is drowning in his own ominous and treacherous thoughts and darkness which tears him down and makes him weary, you always appear to shine a bright light of positivity and warmth onto him. Undoubtedly, Wilbur feels as though you truly better him as a person and he sincerely hopes he can do the same for you.

Nonetheles, sweetheart has also became commonplace in Wilbur's petname vocabulary. Ultimately, Wilbur believes you're unfathomably kind, loving and sweet, and therefore calling you sweetheart feels so just and right- especially when the word seems to slip from Wilbur's lips so easily.

[chericarlisle]

You asked for Carlisle Cullen requests and I am here to deliver❤️ can I ask for a fic where the reader finally confesses to Carlisle they are in love with him? Preferably fluffy with some kisses 😌, I would also prefer the reader not be a doctor or nurse if possible! Thank you so much!

𝐌𝐲 𝐇𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐃𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐌𝐞 || 𝐜.𝐜

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: carlisle cullen x human reader

(𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝)

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k

𝐚/𝐧: i hope you enjoy this! i tried to think of a way to get the two to meet, but have it still correlate! so the reader will be Alice’s friend :) thank you for requesting <3 please know that the reader is NOT a minor!!!

For the years that you had attended Forks High, you had grown close to a certain Cullen daughter, Alice. Her personality was that of a pink rose and its symbolism. She was more than one could want in a best friend, and between her amazing advice or sense of fashion, there was never a dull moment. 

Unlike a majority of the students, Alice was genuine and welcoming, causing the two of you to grow close as friends. It made you feel like high school wasn’t so bad after all.

As you talked more and more with Alice, you often wondered why the rest of her family was so reserved. They rarely interacted with any one else who didn’t share the last name ‘Cullen’. Alice, though, was the exception, having branched out to you.

 It seemed that being friends with Alice was something that was a package deal because on occasion, she’d bring along her boyfriend Jasper. You didn’t question their family dynamic as Alice had already explained in simplest terms who they were. It was a much better definition than what Jessica had told you and the rest at that table on the first day. Looking back, it was more petty gossip than it was useful information.

For the first summer, you didn’t see much of Alice and rather texted her much more. You’d invite her over, but it appeared that they were on a long family vacation that summer. It was then that you truly realized that you knew nothing about Alice, let alone the Cullens, aside from what you had been told at school. 

There was something that constantly affected Alice’s decision making, along with her siblings, but you didn’t yet know that factor, and you wouldn’t for a while. Instead, you let your mind consume the harsh option that Alice wasn’t exactly the person you thought she was. Maybe she really was just like the rest of the Forks High students. 

Fortunately, your fears were consoled that next school year.

After much consideration, Alice eventually invited you over to her house where you officially met the rest of the Cullens. Edward, Emmett, Rosalie, and Jasper acted so much differently than they did at school in the way that they even acted at all. Normally, they would just go through the school day rarely interacting with any one or anything else but themselves. It made you curious as to why they weren’t like this at school. They seemed to be such lovely people so why would they be so monotonous for eight grueling hours of the day. 

You were able to see where they got those characterful values from. Well, more so who.

Dr. Carlisle Cullen, their adoptive father who looked too young to be a father at all and was so perfect that he must’ve been a hallucination. 

Since that moment three years ago, you’d gone over almost every other weekend to do whatever extravagant thing Alice had planned for you. She hadn’t had a real friend in so long that she wanted to make up for all the missed time. 

Over the course of time, the man, who you knew only as Dr. Cullen, had caught your eye. His compassionate mannerism and old fashioned style was something that just seemed to make you fall head over heels. At the mere sight of Dr. Cullen, the heat of your cheeks would make itself known and you wanted nothing more than to slap some sense into yourself. Whenever he spoke, you shamefully latched onto every word, his voice ever so comforting. The small smile resting on his lips whenever he spoke to you added even more charm and there was no hope left for you. This man made you swoon and you were so embarrassed over the fact that he was the adoptive father of your best friend. 

High school graduation arrived in no time and along with it a huge family secret. A family secret that wasn’t yours, but once again, relating to the Cullens. 

The family revealed it at a dinner, which was a rare occasion, considering that you hadn’t ever really seen them eat. You came over to their house like any other visit, except this time, the inviting smell of a freshly cooked dinner greeted you at the door. 

The lovely dinner and charming smiles were all just the calm before the storm. Playful conversation ceased and suddenly Carlisle was speaking on behalf of everyone at the table. In a matter of seconds, it went from ‘casual family dinner' to ‘game show questionnaire' that was borderline an interrogation with the lack of feedback you were receiving. None of the Cullens, not even Alice, would confirm or deny any inquiries that left your mouth, leaving you to your own judgment. It was almost like your speculation was crucial to ending the slew of questions. 

Eventually, you drew up the conclusion that they were vampires. You said this with such lighthearted intent that you were waiting for the big joke until you scanned the tables and saw their emotionless expressions.

All that you could really remember was falling from your dinner chair with Carlisle, who was sitting right beside you, catching your fall before you became close friends with the hardwood floor. 

Needless to say, it took a moment to process this information, but you still continued on with Alice and her family. They were still the same Cullens you had known since the beginning and a small sliver of their real life wasn’t going to change who they were to you.

A couple of months later, you were spending the night with Alice for the weekend. She wanted to go visit Seattle for the day and do some holiday shopping. You readily agreed, remembering that you had to get some gifts for your own family. Shopping with Alice was always an experience, but an entertaining time nonetheless.

You had gotten there Friday night as both you and Alice planned to leave the next morning. There was no point in leaving now as the stores had been closed for at least a couple of hours. 

Walking in the living room, you saw Emmett and Rosalie thoroughly invested in a comedy on tv. You had invited Rosalie to go shopping, but long hours with Alice in a store was not an activity for the less patient and she knew this. Edward was apparently missing from the scene, but Jasper, who was standing afar, greeted you and said that he was out with Bella. Jasper had finally loosened up around you, and after the family’s confession, you understood why he looked so uncomfortable all the time. The willpower these people had astonished you. 

Alice had disappeared after letting you in and it wasn’t until she returned with Dr. Cullen in tow, that you truly noticed she was gone. You bashfully greeted the doctor to which he returned with his signature smile that could make you melt. 

“I know this is bad timing, (y/n),” Alice walked to stand beside you, “But I have to go hunt, as do my siblings. You’ll stay here with Carlisle. He doesn’t need to go with us right now and we can't leave you alone.” By the end, the petite vampire was smirking and you jokingly scowled at her little plan. She knew of your silly crush on Carlisle and would relentlessly tease you about it, as a best friend would. 

Before you could even answer, Emmett, Rosalie, Jasper, and Alice were out of the room without so much as a peep. You shook your head at Alice’s sneakiness, forgetting for a second that a certain someone was left with you.

“How about I make you some dinner, (y/n)?” 

The way he said your name was something you could never handle. It just rolled off his tongue like any other word would, but with the hint of his accent, it sounded so lovely.

“I don’t mean to be a nuisance. Dr. Cullen.” 

Already flustered with the whole situation, the last thing you wanted was to bother Dr. Cullen any more than you thought you’d already done. 

As if he could read minds, the blonde stopped in his tracks to face you. “Please, call me Carlisle and you are never an inconvenience, (y/n). Besides, I’ve already hunted so I’m more than happy to be here with you.” 

Carlisle, being kind as usual, shouldn’t have said such words because your brain was currently going into a frenzy as his thoughtfulness. If it was possible, your heart must’ve been beating faster than what would be considered healthy for someone actively working out. 

You weren’t able to find the words, but instead able to offer what you hoped was an endearing grin.

In the kitchen, Carlisle searched the desolate fridge in hopes of finding some food. The kitchen and its appliances were more of decor than they ever were useful. 

After a minute or two, Carlisle closed the freezer door of the fridge, a pack of steak in his hand. 

“It seems steak will have to do tonight.” 

You shot him a pleased look. “You can’t go wrong with steak.” Famous last words.

While you insisted on cooking your own food, Carlisle returned the same persistence and eventually you gave in. 

The two of you carried on a conversation while he cooked. Talking with him seemed so natural that for a moment, you weren’t nervous about talking to this man.

Carlisle plated the steak and brought it before you, an excited look painted on your face. He sat down beside you and eagerly waited to see how the steak turned out. At first, you felt a bit bad that he wasn’t going to eat anything, especially after all the trouble he had gone through.

“Carlisle, are you sure you’re fine? It just feels so wrong eating in front of you like this!” 

He chuckled, quickly placing his hand on your own to reassure you. “I’m fine, truly. I just hope it’s edible.” 

You grabbed the steak knife, jokingly rolling your eyes at his statement. Upon cutting into the steak, an unpleasant rush of cow blood came out revealing that the steak was far from even being rare. 

Immediately your plate was being scooped up and brought to the kitchen counter where you joined Carlisle. 

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, it’s been some time since I’ve cooked anything and it seems that I haven’t caught up with modern cooking principles.” Carlisle looked a bit sheepish at the moment and you couldn’t help the giggle that slipped from your lips. You weren't sure if it was the unintentional term of endearment or his adorable attempt at cooking. Either way, Carlisle was relieved to see that you weren’t upset, but rather enjoying this moment. 

You stepped up beside Carlisle at the stovetop, shoulders touching as you reached across for the seasonings. “Here, we should probably season the steak a bit and clean off the pan.” 

As you continued to do your own thing and guide Carlisle in cooking, he carefully took each word of your advice.

“See, you did everything right, Carlisle. It was just the heat and time that threw off the doneness of the steak, a bit.” Your words ended with a small twinkle as you turned to face the man who’d been so intently watching. He seemed to be so entranced at the moment… and by you. 

It was like time was frozen and everything moved in slow motion, something you’d only see in a cheesy movie scene, except you were living it. Suddenly, life sped up and Carlisle’s cold hand was cupping your face and bringing you in for a kiss. You were happy that this was how you’d “confess” your love to Carlisle because words weren’t exactly your strong spot given the circumstances.

You two stayed lip locked for the longest moment in time, just pure bliss. It seemed like the kiss would never end until the smell of burnt oil hit your nose. Carlisle could feel you smiling against his lips and you began to peep out a small laugh. 

“I think we overcooked this one a little too much.”

a/n: i’m sorry if this is cringe-worthy, i wrote this at 12:30 am. i swear it will get better lol i just need to stop writing at ungodly hours of the night--

[lilxberry]

Hardly Burglar Material - Bilbo Baggins

Requested by: @donniethescienceguy​

Helloooooooo! Can I have a Bilbo x hobbit wife reader where after Thorin insults him (in the beginning when he arrives) she defends him and Thorins like: are you sure it’s the male Baggins we want?

I mean, I still did as what was requested but man, did I not know where tf this was going lmao

I followed quite a bit of the manuscript of the film, the only alteration is when reader confronts Thorin

Warnings: Nothing really. Asshole Thorin. Terrible writing lmao. 

Words: 1,796

Pairings: Bilbo Baggins x Reader (female reader) (wife!reader)

_______________

You hadn’t expected your quiet evening meal with your husband to be interrupted but when a dwarf, a big, burly, tattooed, balding, towering one at that knocks your door, there certainly isn’t much you can do.

After the dwarf, who introduced himself as Dwalin, had entered your home and devoured your husbands fish dinner, to which you offered Bilbo your own meal, more and more knocks sounded at the door, each one miffing your husband further and further until he had finally had enough.

“There’s nobody home!” he shouted as another sound came from the front door, arms holding up the abundance of weapons the two brothers’, Fíli and Kíli, loaded on to him.

You felt terrible, watching as your husband becomes frustrated, not knowing what to do other than spectate in concern.

He tossed the items down out of his arms as he stormed towards the door, shouting at whoever was on the other side. “Go away and bother somebody else! There are far too many dwarves in my dining room as it is.”

Bilbo closes in on the door. “I-I-If this is some plotheads idea of a joke,” he laughed in disbelief before grasping the door handle in his hand. “I can only say, it is in very poor taste.”

With that, he pulled the door open and in comes tumbling through the doorway a cluster of dwarves, all grumbling and whining at the other to get off of them. Bilbo and yourself, who stood a few steps behind, looked down at the mess of moving bodies on the floor before his feet, dumbfounded expressions on both of your faces.

Movement behind the pile up caught both yours and Bilbos’ attention, and once the tall figure bent down ever so slightly to reveal himself, your face twisted into that of utter confusion as your husband sighs in exasperation.

“Gandalf.”

_______________

Although you were concerned for your husband, you couldn’t help but find the whole situation quite amusing. You found some of the dwarven folk that had invaded your shared home to be quite a fun, entertaining bunch.

Of course, you were concerned about the possessions within your home, hoping that the dwarves leave your home relatively untouched and that your husband wouldn’t have some sort of mental breakdown.

Your uninvited guests had pillaged the pantry of its food. The race of dwarves certainly did have quite an appetite. Even Gandalf had nibbled on quite a bit of food.

The rowdiness of the dwarves had calmed slightly, if only for moment when they downed whatever drink they had. Even the ridiculous and frankly disgusting belching afterwards was calmer than their initial arrival.

Yet that was quickly replaced with plates, platers, knives, forks, and spoons were tossed from one dwarf to another as they sang a merry tune. Bilbo was quick with demanding caution and for things to be put down. Even you were slightly worried for your kitchen utensils.

The dwarves released hearty laughter when you and Bilbo peered into the kitchen and had seen that everything was clean and stacked, Gandalf chuckling along with them as both you and Bilbo simultaneously release sighs of relief.

Then, the atmosphere became tense as three, loud knocks sound at your front door for a final time that night.

The laughter died out instantly and Gandalf spoke quite ominously. “He’s here.”

_______________

You couldn’t really pinpoint what exactly was unsettled you so much when it came to the dark-haired dwarf who sat at the head of the table. Maybe his stature. Possibly his stoic expression.

Most likely the look behind his eyes.

Well, you certainly didn’t like him all that much whenever he addressed your husband.

Most of the conversation between the dwarves and Gandalf became muffled when reaching your ears, certainly seeing no point in listening in on their talk. The second your husbands voice rang out through the room though had piqued your interest and your attention was brought to the conversation.

They spoke of The Lonely Mountain, the dragon Smaug, how they were on a quest to reclaim their home. Gandalf had produced not only a map of some forts but a key, a key the dwarves seemed to become quite excited about.

You also happened to admire the young dwarfs’ courage. Ori.

Then, the topic of a burglar arrived.

“That’s why we need a burglar,” Ori spoke.

“Hmm, and a good one too. An expert I’d imagine.” Bilbo moves back from peering down at the map, holding on to his suspenders.

“And are you?”

Bilbo glances around to behind him before looking towards the dwarves once more. “Am I what?”

“He said he’s an expert!” Oin spoke cheerily. Of course, the dwarf with the horn to aid his hearing would say as such.

“Me? No, no, no, no, no,” your husband started, eyes darting to each dwarf, hoping his point would get across. “I’m not a burglar. I’ve never stolen a thing in my life.”

You nodded your head in agreement. As much as you love your husband, he is quite the stickler for following rules.

“I’m afraid I have to agree with Mister Baggins,” Balin was next to speak. “He’s hardly burglar material.”

You supressed a chuckle as Bilbo, although relieved that someone agreed, looked the tiniest bit offended.

The group of dwarves began to chatter and raise in volume, no words could actually be comprehended by yourself, it all a jumble of noises. Then Gandalf raised out of the seat slightly, his voice booming over the racket the dwarves created.

“ENOUGH! IF I SAY BILBO BAGGINS IS A BURGLAR,” he lowered his voice with each following word. “Then a burglar he is.” Bilbo looked as if he wanted to protest but no words left his mouth.

“Hobbits are remarkably light on their feet,” he continued. “In fact, they can pass by unseen by most if they chose. And while the dragon is accustomed to the smell of dwarf, the scent of a Hobbit is all but unknown to them which gives us an distinct advantage.”

The whole discussion about your husband was unnerving for you. You disliked how your husband was talked of like a ploy in some silly game.

“This quest is no place for gentlefolk.” Thorins’ tone was as if the words left a vile taste in his mouth, clearly showing his disgust for your husband. “He probably wouldn’t last 5 miles away from his precious little home. Look at him, Gandalf! He isn’t made for such things, it’s as clear as day. His big feet and rounded belly would slow us down. Your little Hobbit would cry out for home within a day.”

Your blood boiled with each word he spoke, an anger rising in you which you desperately tried to keep down. Your nails dug into the palms of your hands and your jaw was clenched tightly shut, but enough was enough.

“HOW DARE YOU SPEAK OF MY HUSBAND LIKE THAT?! NO LESS WHILST YOU ARE IN HIS HOME AND IN HIS PRESENCE!”

Your outburst caught the attention of every soul in the dining room around the table. Their eyes settled on your figure that stepped closer and closer to them up to the point where you stood glaring down at Thorin right beside his seat. Even Bilbos’ eyes were wide and looked almost ready to pop right out of their sockets.

“My husband may not be a fighter like you…you BRASS DWARVES! But he deserves no less respect. I will not stand for someone speaking down on my Bilbo in such a manner, even if they are some king,” you all but spat out.

Some of the dwarves looked offended that you spoke to their leader in such a way, others looked thoroughly shocked, surprised that a small thing as yourself had such a fire in you. Gandalf smirked as Bilbo looked like he genuinely feared for your safety. He had witnessed outbursts from you that scared him before, which were quite rare, you barely losing your temper, but for once, he was terrified of the consequences seeing as it wasn’t at him nor a fellow Hobbit.

But it was Thorins’ reaction that had you confused. He seemed…impressed?

Thorin turned towards Gandalf, a smirk of his own forming on his face. “Are you sure it was Mister Baggins you had wanted to join our quest?”

Gandalf chuckled and looked towards you and your husband, you now joined your side, who was silently scolding you with his eyes but nonetheless remaining the concerned, dotting husband. “I was certain on Mister Baggins being the 14th member of your company, but I would highly recommend you take a 15th as I believe Misses Baggins certainly has something of her own to bring to the quest.”

“They both have a great deal more to offer than any of you know, including themselves. You must trust me on this,” Gandalf finished.

Thorin looked at Gandalf and Gandalf at he for a moment, Thorin evidently mulling it over within his head before finally, he spoke. “Very well. We’ll do it your way. Give them the contract.”

Both yourself and Bilbo began to protest as Balin produced the document. He handed it over to Bilbo who unravelled the parchment and began to scan over the words, your eyes peering over his shoulder to read it for yourself.

As Bilbo and you busied yourselves with reading over the document, Thorin had leant over towards Gandalf to whisper within his ear. “I cannot guarantee their safety.”

“Understood,” Gandalf hummed in acknowledgement.

“You’ll be left responsible for their fate.”

“Agreed.”

Bilbo began to read aloud the text, brow furrowed out of concentration, your own face screwed up slightly, straining to peer at the words.

“Terms; cash on delivery up to but not exceeding 1 14th for total profit, if any. Seems fair, uhh-“

“Shouldn’t it be changed to 1 15th if I were to join?” you questioned aimlessly.

Bilbo nodded his head in agreement before continuing. “Present company shall not be liable for injuries inflicted by or sustained as a government, thereof including but not limited to; lacerations. Evisceration?” He unfolds a piece further, reading before looking towards the group with a look of disbelief. “Incineration?!”

“Oh, aye. It’d melt the flesh off your bones in the blink of an eye,” Bofur quipped with ease.

Many more ‘encouraging and reassuring’ words were spoken by Bofur, unnerving both yourself and Bilbo, though you hid it extremely well. The moment your husband passed out, was when Bofur seemed to finally relent.

“Oh dear.” You looked towards your husband laying on the floor unconscious with concern before turning towards the others with a worried expression.

Valar forbid you allow him to go with those dwarves and that conniving wizard alone.

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I mean, I don’t really have anything to say sooooo

If you want to be added to a taglist lemme know

Anywho, I hope you enjoy

As always, constructive criticism and requests are welcomed and greatly appreciated :D

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LOTR / The Hobbit taglist:

@iwazoomingouttahere​ 

[thekisforkeats]

Ooh jm + shy kiss for the prompts?

Ohhh good one! I had to think about this a little and actually wrote up a bunch that didn't quite work at first. But! Here it is!

Set somewhere in the first few minutes of 160, in those weeks between arriving at the safehouse and Hazel Rutter. Featuring autistic Martin trying to navigate social situations because that is evidently what I write now.

(Incidentally the term "weak ties" was coined by a Stanford researcher in 1973. Link to the relevant paper. Credit where due, and all.)

(No beta no edits we die like archive assistants.)

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It takes Martin a week to convince Jon to come down into the village with him.

If he's being honest with himself--and he's trying very hard to be honest with himself these days, so he can identify any Lonely-type thoughts--he really just wants to show off his boyfriend to the nice lady at the little shop in the village where he's been picking up essentials.

Martin is a naturally friendly person, or maybe a naturally personable person. This was not always the case; he had to practice a great deal to memorize all the scripts to smooth social interactions that other people seem to navigate without thinking about it at all. It can be horribly exhausting, just going to the shops. It's one of the reasons the Lonely appealed to him; how much easier to just move through life without having to recite all those canned lines?

Now that he's out of its grip, he's come to realize how much those interactions matter. He's been reading a lot on the internet about depression and social interaction, about social circles, and one thing that caught his eye is the idea of "weak ties," those people we're not exactly friends with, but who we see on a regular basis and who help us feel connected to a larger community. People who don't really know us and yet know something about us that helps us feel seen. The bus driver who gives you a familiar nod every morning. the barista who's prepping your order as soon as he notices you in line, the shop lady who tries to keep your favorite tea in stock.

So Martin is trying to cultivate those relationships, to feel part of a wider community, rather than just relying on Jon. He thinks that maybe if he'd had more of that, before, if he'd tried harder to go through the world being seen, he might have handled Jon's coma and his mother's death in some kind of healthier manner.

Maybe not, of course, but he's going to use any tool he can to keep the Lonely at bay.

At any rate, even beyond being very good at social scripts, Martin does genuinely like people, he's a good listener, for an autistic guy he's practically a social butterfly. And Elspeth is a nice lady, maybe mid-40's, the kind of person who runs a shop because she actually likes interacting with a stream of customers on a regular basis. So she's just the sort of person for Martin to practice his "weak tie" skills.

Because, naturally, one of the key benefits of "weak ties" is that they are the sort of people you get to be public about your relationship with when none of your closer friends are around.

Yeah, no, all of the above is just flimsy justification, if Martin's being really honest with himself. He's just madly in love and wants literally everyone within a 500-mile radius to know.

That morning, Martin makes a big show of how badly he wants to spend time with Jon, no really, but he really does have to go down into the village.

"We're out of tea!"

"I don't think we have anything for dinner!"

"But I really want to keep listening to you talk about Scottish history!"

And so on.

Jon gives him a tolerantly amused look, and Martin flushes. Is he that transparent, or is Jon just that good at reading him?

"I suppose I can go into the village with you, Martin," he says, eyes glittering. "Since you're so terribly interested in the House of Stuart. I'd hate to leave you wondering what happened to James II."

Martin would feel guilty, but he can tell Jon is pleased to be "indulging" him, and it's not like Martin hasn't been listening to Jon infodump about whatever random facts Beholding's been given him all week.

They hold hands all the way down into the village, and it's nice, to walk through the place and be seen, together. It's comfortable. They'd held hands on walks before, long ago in London, before the Unknowing, but back then they hadn't been sure what they were, hadn't managed to broach the delicate barrier between "friends" and "something else." Now, they're "boyfriends," and Martin keeps finding himself wanting to go up to each person he sees on the street and shout, "This is my boyfriend, Jonathan Sims!!"

By the time they reach Elspeth's shop, he's feeling a little giddy.

He pushes open the door and the little bell rings, and Elspeth looks up from behind the counter and smiles. "Martin!" she says, and Martin's whole body warms in a very pleasant manner, that this woman he's only known a week remembers him. "Oh, and this must be the elusive Jon." She gives them one of those teasing smiles people give to new couples, glittering eyes and amusement at the silly things people do when they're in limerence.

"Yes," Martin says, and suddenly the words stick in his throat. "Yes, this is... is... umm..." Oh, why has he suddenly frozen like a deer in headlights? Why can't he remember the right words?

"Jonathan Sims," Jon says smoothly, stepping forward to offer the woman his hand. "And yes, I'm Martin's boyfriend."

It occurs to Martin, all at once, that neither of them have said that out loud to anyone else. No wonder he's frozen up.

Elspeth glances at the burn scars on Jon's hand only briefly, then smiles--and it's a genuine smile, not one of those pitying ones people sometimes put on when they see scars like that--and shakes said hand. "Pleased to meet you," she replies. "Elspeth Douglas." She has the Highland accent, but softened; she spent her 20's and 30's in London, she's said, and came back to take over the family store when her father fell ill. The similarity might be part of why Martin likes her--that and the fact that it seems that helping her sickened parent improved her life.

"Ahh, yes. The not-so-elusive Elspeth." Jon actually flashes a grin, which Martin finds remarkable. Since when is Jon... friendly? Well, maybe he's trying for Martin's sake. If so, Martin very much appreciates the effort.

The woman behind the counter laughs, and says, "How can I help you?"

"Oh," Martin manages, his brain catching up and letting his mouth work again, "we're just here for tea and things."

"Of course," Elspeth says. "I'll be here when you're ready."

They turn away, to go deeper into the aisles.

"She seems nice," Jon says almost absently. "Shame about her fa--" He pauses, and frowns. Shakes his head, looking irritated. "You didn't tell me about that," he grumbles.

"No, I didn't. But thank you for trying to keep it in," Martin says.

Jon sighs, lowering his voice. "It's becoming harder and harder to separate what I've learned on my own from what Beholding gives me. How much of my thoughts are mine anymore? Did I actually memorize all those facts about the House of Stuart, or am I getting the... mental Wikipedia page, as it were?"

"Seems like a thing you'd know," Martin comments offhandedly. He's focused on figuring out what kind of rice to buy. He wants to try his hand at sticky rice, which really should have calrose, but Jon likes jasmine rice. Do they get both?

He doesn't want to think about Beholding, and how much of it is Jon anymore. He prefers just thinking about it as something like a smartphone app Jon can use without having to actually have a phone in front of him. He does not want to think about how much of his boyfriend has been potentially consumed by some kind of eldritch thing that feeds on fear.

He really doesn't want to think about the idea that maybe soon, Jon won't even need rice anymore, and will just live off statements, no matter how much he jokes about his partner's "eating habits."

Jon has been talking as Martin's been staring at the rice, but Martin hasn't heard any of it. He's brought back to himself by a squeeze of Jon's hand in his.

"Hey," Jon says softly. "You okay?"

In Jon's voice, Martin hears all the concern that Martin himself has been feeling. He forces himself to look at Jon, and sees bright green eyes staring out of a deep brown face. He realizes he's gotten used to the color of Jon's eyes; before the coma, Jon's eyes were brown, like a deep carnelian, and so large and dark sometimes Martin thought he could fall right into them and be happy drowning there. Now they're green, bright and disarming, and Martin's pretty sure this is why Jon still wears glasses he no longer needs, to hide those strange eyes behind plastic lenses.

Those eyes are looking up at him intensely now, and Jon's brow is furrowed, and his mouth is pulled into a frown in a way that highlights one of the worm scars near his lip, and all of it is adorable, but it's also disconcerting for the contrast between the softness of his voice and the intensity of his expression.

Is Jon as afraid of losing Martin to Forsaken as Martin is of losing Jon to Beholding?

Martin frowns at him for a moment, then sighs. "I just..." He has to look away, back to the bags of rice. "I just... don't like thinking about that. Beholding, and... all of it. I just... I just wish..."

"You wish we could be normal." Jon's tone is still soft, and filled only with love and no sort of guilt or self-recrimination.

"Yeah," Martin says, still staring at the rice.

There's a hesitation, and then Jon says, softly and slowly, "You know... normal people deal with these sort of difficult things, too. There's so much out there that can hurt people... the things we deal with, they're weirder than most of the rest of it, but..."

"Yeah, I know, Jon, I just..." Martin hunches his shoulders. "Don't want to lose you again," he finally mumbles.

Jon hesitates a moment, and then he leans in to give Martin a soft kiss on the cheek.

Martin flushes bright red--Elspeth's right there!--and turns to stare at Jon. "W-what... what was... that for?!"

Jon, too, is blushing. "I just... ah... I just... wanted you to know that... that I'm... here. You haven't... lost me. Or anything."

"Oh," Martin says. "Well. Thank you."

There's a moment where they just look at each other, and then Jon blurts, "...Can I kiss you again? It's just, I haven't all morning, and I really sort of wanted to spend the morning cuddling, but you wanted to come down to the shops..."

"Here?!" Martin stares at him.

"We can go behind the shelves if you like," Jon says, blushing furiously.

For some reason, this makes Martin giggle, and then he leans down to brush his lips to Jon's. Softly, shyly, as if they haven't been kissing each other all week, because he really is terribly aware of the fact that there are other people around.

"Tell you what," Martin says as he pulls back, surprisingly breathless despite how short the contact of their lips was, "let's finish up the shopping and then we can cuddle all afternoon."

Jon smiles up at him. "Promise?" The smile widens. "You're not going to drag me around to introduce me to every villager individually?"

"I was not--!" Martin glares at him, but now Jon's smile has become one of those shit-eating grins he gets sometimes, and Martin can't stay mad at him at all.

"You knew," he accuses, but there's no heat in it.

"I had a hunch," Jon says, humming. "I didn't want to spoil your fun, though."

Martin rolls his eyes, and then reaches out to take Jon's hand again. "Well, then, we'd better get to it. Jasmine or calrose? Rice, I mean."

"Both, I think," Jon says. "I find myself very much desiring normality of late, and rice is a terribly normal sort of thing."

[commander-kirschtein]

attack on titan fluff s/o headcanons

some fluffy headcanons for eren, mikasa, armin and jean (gender neutral s/o.) there’s a mixture of canonverse and modern!au, hope you enjoy!! - mac

masterlist

eren jaeger:

dates: in canon he probably wouldn’t have the time for dates honestly but if he had a moment free he’d certainly spend it with you, like going to a nearby lake or woods with a blanket and lying together, enjoying the peace which is hard to come by. in a modern!au, eren would probably want to spend every waking moment with you, preferably something that he could do whilst still being able to keep you close. sitting between his legs whilst he plays on his playstation is a must!! he’d also enjoy hanging out with you and his friends (who’ve become pretty desensitised to your pda because eren just wants to be all over you.)

terms of affection: mainly babe or baby, but would definitely use an inside joke name if you guys had one. sometimes will come up to you, cupping your face with his hands and say ‘who’s my pretty baby?’ - innocently shrug your shoulders and he’ll go ‘you are silly’ before peppering your face with kisses.

likes to come up behind you and put his head on your shoulder, wrapping his arms around your waist. if he starts nuzzling into your neck, you know he wants attention (give it to him before he goes feral please.) if you’re busy doing something he’ll get all pouty and will start to kiss up your neck and jaw until you finally give in.

mikasa ackerman:

dates: i can see mikasa really loving to explore new places with you. whether it’s a nearby town or in a modern!au going to another country, she loves the shared experience of learning new things and cultures together and would definitely take lots of pictures of you to savour the memory. you’d start a tradition of finding or buying a keepsake for each other with every new place you go to.

terms of affection: calls you my love when is private!! would be a bit shy calling you anything other than your name in public (eren and armin once overheard her call you my love and both died inside because it was so adorable - they’re probably the ones who pushed mikasa to confess to you so they will do everything to make sure their efforts were a success.)

mikasa loves having her hair played with. when it’s long, she’d love for you to brush it and if you were able to do plaits she’d ask you to do it for her all the time. when she cuts it short she’d still enjoy for you to run your fingers through it - she’d find it so relaxing so don’t be surprised if she falls asleep on you.

armin arlert:

dates: reading together is a pretty obvious one! but armin in a modern!au would love to put on an audiobook or podcast that you could listen to whilst cuddling. also likes just going for a walk and holding hands whilst chatting about everything under the sun as you take in the scenery around you.

terms of affection: likes to use a shortened or nickname version of your name, but if it was just before an expedition or you were having a deep and romantic moment, he’d call you the love his life or the most wonderful person he knows.

armin is such a sucker for hand holding. he loves it because it’s a way of showing everyone that you’re his and he’s yours without coming across too strong. he especially likes to have your fingers entwined together, and he’ll give a squeeze every now and then and wait for your squeeze back in response before giving you a soft smile. when he’s in need of comfort he’d love for you to gently rub your thumb over his hand - this small gesture puts his mind at ease and once he’s feeling better he’ll take your hand and gently kiss each knuckle before bringing you in for a proper kiss.

jean kirstein:

dates: any opportunity where jean can show off is a date to him. from playing mario kart with you to taking you to the bowling alley or arcade, he likes to get competitive with you. obviously it’s all in a joking manner - if you’re better than him and win he’ll claim he wasn’t warmed up enough and if you lose he’ll call you cute, telling you he’ll let you win next time.

terms of affection: jean definitely calls you ‘mean’ names to mess around like ‘loser’ and ‘dumbass’ but when you pout at him he’ll kiss your nose and say ‘but you’re my dumbass’ whilst ruffling your hair. but in a serious moment he’d call you your name (why can i see him calling you by your entire name, middle names included, to get your attention and then tells you he loves you.)

likes to make playlists of songs that you both like and that reminds him of you and your relationship - will put it on whilst you’re cuddling. he especially likes it when he can lay his head on your chest or your lap and comb your hands through is hair, giving him the occasional peck on his forehead or cheek. it just makes him feel so warm inside (he’s just a big ol’ baby.)

[comfortwriting]

Best Friends Brother Part 3 - G.W

Masterlist, Requesting Rules, Writing Prompt Masterlist

This is part 3 of ‘Best Friends Brother’ please read part 1 and part 2, want to be tagged? let me know! 

George Weasley x Fem Reader slow burn

Warnings: mention of food and eating, swearing, 

The moment your lips touched, fireworks went off around you, George wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him - all of your worries withering away, all you could feel was happiness and pure bliss.

George pulled away from the kiss and slowly opened his eyes, you were in shocked and couldn’t believe who’s lips had collided with yours moments before.

Opening your eyes slowly, you stared into George’s brown ones, his gentle hands holding yours and squeezing them softly.

“T-Thank you for tonight” you blushed, letting go of one of his hands, tucking a stray hair behind your ear nervously “It’s been wonderful.”

George smiled softly and nodded “it has” he paused for a moment, his thumb tracing circles into your palm “same time next week?” he asked, sounding quite nervous.

You squeezed his hand back in excitement and nodded “I would love to” you beamed.

Your three month anniversary was hanging around the corner, you had planned a whole day out on Saturday once George finished Quidditch practice, your heart fluttering in excitement and skipping beats, causing you to squirm in your seat - giggling out and squealing, confusing those around you, especially Ron who thought you were going barmy.

Despite seeing each other every day, the two of you were keeping things secret, you weren't ready for anyone to know - George knew his little brother all too well and so did you, Ron would be far from happy.

“George didn’t say anything to you after he, you know?” Ron asked, acting quite shifty in his chair.

“No he didn’t” you replied, “he’s not interested in me Ron, he just hates creeps.”

“Where were you last night?” Ron asked over breakfast, staring at you questioningly.

Shit! Think of something! I totally wasn’t kissing your brother, no, not at all.

“I went for a walk” you lied “I just had so much energy and needed to get out, I found an injured little owlet and was up all night nursing it, he’s helping me get over Penny.”

Ron believed you and nodded slowly “are you sure you’re ready for another owl?” he asked, trying to sound as caring as he could.

You sighed “I think it’s about time, yeah” you replied “It’s been almost over a year so I figured why not.”

So instead, you wrote to each other a few times a week, you had to admit, you quite liked the schedule; Wednesdays and Sundays nights were for the love letters, Saturdays were for dates unless he couldn’t skip Quidditch and the rest of the week you barely spoke and only engaged in eye contact if you were in the company of others - if not, you would hold hands and kiss in empty broom closets or even in the astronomy tower, but it was rare as Fred was never far behind from his twin.

Dearest Y/N,

Although we see each other every day and go on dates most weekends (when Ron isn’t on your back, or when I’m in detention like now) writing to you feels just as good as the real thing - but still bloody ridiculous.

Fred keeps asking what I’ve spent my Galleons on, told him it was for an experiment to do with our products we’re testing - he’s suspicious but believes me after I made myself sick to get out of Quidditch, oh the things I do for you, Y/N.

I think Gideon is the perfect name for the Owlet, mum will be so heart warmed and honoured when she finds out - but don’t bring the galleons into it of course, not until the joke shop is up and running with great success!

Seeing you last night up in the Astronomy tower was nothing short of the highlight of my day, I wish we could do it more often, but not to worry - one day we won’t need to meet up in private at all.

Anyway, I better get back to some homework before the greaseball comes over and reads this - detention with him always drags.

The next one will be longer, I promise, love.

Lots of love,

Georgie.

Dear George,

You should be focusing, get your head down and do your homework if you can bear it, I swear George, the day I receive a letter from you that wasn’t written in detention will be the day I wink at Snape - it’s silly I’m even asking you knowing that it’s never going to happen.

Your letters always cheer me up, Georgie, I can hear your voice as I read, feels like you’re sitting next to me and it’s good enough for me at the time being, I’m so thankful that we aren’t hundreds of miles away from each other.

Hey! You can’t be skipping Quidditch for me, you plonker! Gryffindor team need you and you’re a bloody good Beater - unbeatable in fact but stop skipping! we can make up for a lost date another time, I’ll try not to miss you too much I swear.

Thank you for gifting me Gideon, he is the sweetest little owlet and I cannot wait to watch him grow and to teach him like I did Penny - if his mother will let me that is. I won’t say a word to anyone, no one will know that you did such a thing although I want nothing more than to tell everyone, your kind-heartedness should never go unnoticed.

The joke shop will sweep you up off your feet and I can’t wait to see Weasley wizard Wheezes everywhere I go.

Thank you so much for last night, please don’t forget to send me your Christmas list - please don’t get me anything - Gideon is enough.

Focus on your bloody homework!

Speak soon and lots of love,

Y/N.

Looking over and your Owl, now named Gideon who had grown so much he was no longer a tiny owlet, you stroked his head and giggled at him as he nibbled on your finger.

“Alright, alright, but don’t be out too long” you whispered, opening your bedroom window, Gideon flapping his wings, leaping out and soaring into the night sky.

You beamed at your treasure, flying away to get some food for the evening, climbing into your bed as quietly as you could, hoping you wouldn’t wake up Hermione or your other roommates. Sliding your hand under your pillow, you patted around for the love letters from George you were hiding from everyone.

Your fingers grazed the corners of the crinkled parchment, lifting up your pillow you retrieved his most recent letter, taking it with you as you dive under your covers, shielding you from your roommates and giving you some privacy.

“Lumos!” You whispered, a beam of light stretching out from the tip of your wand, your cheeks flushing again upon seeing George’s handwriting.

Dearest Y/N,

Thank you for the heads-up, saved me and Freddie a lot of trouble, I swear one day Mr Filch and that bloody cat won’t know what’s hit them - if it wasn’t for you, we would’ve lost all of our plans and The Marauders Map, so thank you again for saving us all that trouble.

These three months have flown by so fast, I can’t believe it, I know this seems rather daft - a tall prankster being all lovey-dovey like this, but you really make me happy and I can’t wait to spend more time with you.

If you ever want to test any puking pastilles or fainting fancies, let me know and I’ll be able to look after you, love.

Looking forward to seeing you on Saturday so we can actually speak face to face - if Ron asks, you already know what to say.

Wrap up warm, it’ll be quite cold in Hogsmeade.

Looking forward to seeing you,

lots of love,

Georgie.

“Where are you off to so early? We never see you anymore over the weekend!” Ron complained, a mouthful of bacon.

“Oh get some manners, Ronald!” Hermione hissed, knitting her eyebrows together and grimacing.

You stood on the spot and stared at Ron, trying to plaster the most obvious expression on your face to make him feel stupid. “I’m off to spend some quality time with Gideon, he’s only a few months old and I want to make sure he’s as stable as Penny was at her age - I won’t be able to trust him to send letters long distances otherwise.” you lied.

But in all honesty, you weren’t really lying completely, next weekend was the end of term and the start of the Christmas Holidays - you wanted to make sure Gideon could deliver George’s letters to the burrow, you wouldn’t be able to hide them around for him to stumble across and pick up any more, and the two of you already discussed the problems of trying to use a device which muggles called a telephone.

“I’ll write you letters every week” George whispered, standing next to you in the corridors swarming with busy students, Fred chasing after Angelina outside “look in the middle of your textbooks, I’ll slide them in the middle of the pages.”

Opening up your book, a piece of folded parchment slid down and fell into your lap, you quickly stuffed it into your pocket, looking around to see if Ron noticed - luckily for you who he was copying Hermione’s classwork.

Ron looked lost for words, swallowing his bacon and thinking about your owl and how much you truly loved them “Alright then, well, see you later.” he replied,

You raised your eyebrows and smiled, waving goodbye to him, Harry and Hermione, walking out of the Great Hall and getting ready to meet George in Hogsmeade.

“She spends too much time with that bloody owl if you ask me” Ron muttered, stabbing some peas with his fork.

Hermione sighed “I think it’s quite sweet actually, she’s quite similar to Hagrid.”

Harry grinned and started to laugh, Ron rolled his eyes.

“Except the fact that she’s not a giant and she only flocks to birds of prey, not dragons or creatures that could kill us!”

“Well, at least you know where she’s going” Fred called out, walking past his brother “George never tells me where he’s off to and what he’s up to on a Saturday, he’s skiving Quidditch practice again and I get in bothered for it - I can’t check either because he’s got that sodding map with him!”

George wasn’t wrong, this time of year, Hogsmeade was freezing - your fingers changed colour and you could feel the ache and tingle against the freezing air that nibbled on your exposed skin.

You embraced yourself in one of the jumpers he had given you, one you were wearing under your fluffy winter coat which matched the colour of the snow. Looking around the small Village, you noticed George waiting outside The Three Broomsticks, looking slightly nervous as he scratched the back of his head.

You walked up to him, as you got closer you couldn’t help but blush at his red nose that had been attacked from the harsh winter air “Hello, George” you smiled softly, pulling him into a hug after clearing the coast of possible students.

George held you in his arms for a moment, taking in your scent and the feeling of your face against his chest, your hair under his chin as it rested on your head. “shall we get a drink, love?” he asked softly.

Following him inside and getting sat down in a quieter area of the pub, George ordered you and him a butterbeer and held your hand over the table, casually checking the map every now and then, checking on his brothers.

“It’s so good to see your face” he smiled, his starry eyes getting lost in yours.

You blushed and smiled widely, your drinks being placed down on your table, “It’s so good to see you too, can’t believe it’s been three months already!”

George took a sip of his butterbeer, the butterscotch warming up his tummy, you mirrored him, leaving behind a white foamy moustache. George smirked and leaned over the table, carefully avoiding spilling his drink as he wiped away the foam sitting on your top lip with his thumb, his index finger lifting up your chin.

The two of you exchanged a quick, risky kiss, remembering you needed to tone things down despite how hard the temptation was to snog him. George leaned back in his chair, sucking the foam off his thumb.

“I’ve been training Gideon” you beamed, the butterbeer warming you up “he’s finally got the hang of flying long distances and coming back in one piece.”

Meeting George in the small and squashed broom closet, he examined your tired features, looking slightly concerned, his hand resting against your face.

“Are you alright love?” he asked, “you look exhausted.”

You nodded and replied “I’m fine” suppressing a yawn “been up all night with Gideon, he’s growing so fast and he won’t allow me to baby him forever - he’ll be big enough to deliver letters soon.”

George felt a part of him fall in love with you all over again, the picture of you and Gideon in his mind made his insides got all warm and fuzzy - more so than his drink.

“So now he’ll be delivering you letters over Christmas!”

George went quiet and scratched behind his head like he did when he stood outside the pub, he paused for a moment and pursed his lips, licking them. “About that..” he trailed off, staring at his now half-full glass of butterbeer.

Your insides started to sink suddenly but your hopes were lifting, trying to figure out what he was going to say.

Is he staying at Hogwarts for Christmas with me whilst everyone else goes home? Am I unable to send him letters over Christmas if he goes back home?

“What is it?” you asked, both curiously and nervously.

George broke out into a smile, quickly glancing at the map again, then looking back into his favourite pair of eyes.

“Well, I was wondering...” he paused again “if you would like to stay at the burrow over Christmas, with me, everyone else of course but-”

“Yes!” you squealed, getting excited “oh George I would love to!”

George broke out into a grin, so relieved you were willing to come and spend some more time with him, a chance for the two of you to try and get some private time together, in the comfort of his own home.

“I had to ask mum ‘on behalf of Ron’ so if she says anything, just go through with it” George said quietly “Ron wouldn’t remember asking me to do such a thing anyway - his head is that clouded with Hermione.”

You swallowed down the rest of your drink, remembering to wipe away your foamy moustache this time “This is going to be wonderful, George” you smiled, squeezing his hand over to the table “Two whole weeks that we can just.. just be ourselves together!”

George smiled but remembered to remind you “We still need to keep everything on the down-low, it will be a full house and if we disappear it will be obvious we’re together - we’ll just need to wait for everyone to go to bed or go for a walk when they’re too busy to notice.”

You nodded your head, remembering that you would now be under not just Ron’s watch, but every Weasley who wouldn’t approve of your budding relationship.

George kissed your hand and looked down at the map once more, his smile dropping.

“Shit!” he panicked, getting up out of his seat.

“What is it?” you panicked, following him to the back doors in the pub.

He stared down at the map, his eyes following the group of feet storming into Hogsmeade “Fred, Ron, Harry - everyone’s heading this way - to this bloody pub!”

You swallowed hard, the butterbeer churning in your stomach, George’s drink rising up into his throat.

“When we can get away I’ll head to the owlery!” you put your coat back on, pulling the zip up quickly “you go hurry to Honey Dukes or Zonko’s when you get the chance, you’ll find your letter folded in your Quidditch jersey!”

George nodded, looking up from the map and quickly kissing you on the lips, the look in his eyes expressing the most sympathy you had ever seen.

Keeping things a secret would only get harder, harder than you and George were expecting.

Tag list: @amourtentiaa @reeophidian @inglourious-imagines @alwaysnforeverfangirl @horrorxweasley @sebby-staan @xmalfoyweasleyx​

[do-y0u-have-to-let-it-linger]

EXT. The Roof (Winter) - Sunset

Not Just Attracted to Women!Peter Maximoff x Fem and Not Just Attracted to Men!Reader

Based off of a dream I recently had: Peter and Y/N have a conversation on the roof of Xavier's in mid-December. Peter accidentally lets it slip that he might not be straight, and he is afraid that Y/N will think less of him because of it because this is the 80s. Y/N reveals that she is also not straight, and is saddened by the fact that Peter could think that she could ever hate him- especially for that. She calls him wonderful. Feelings ensue. Also, a touch of Cherik at the end because I give the people what they want.

Warnings: Swearing, Peter cries, internalized homophobia (this is the 80s-ish and Peter uses the word 'queer' in a kind of incorrect and kind of offensive manner, but it was internalized homophobia and not actually intended to be mean to anyone but himself so I forgive him), a touch of angst but mostly fluff, Charles called you two "children" even though you are obviously not, Erik is happy that his son has someone that cares about him the way you do, Peter is insecure but not super blunt about it, Peter has been deprived of being adored his entire life, bad writing, I mention a serial killer twice, historical inaccuracy because the word queer was still a slur so yeah.

A/N: This is literally the first thing I have ever written so please be nice to me, I wrote this instead of an essay. I would love a comment of any kind, even if it's just a heart emoji or something, and constructive criticism would be highly appreciated. Also 'N/N' stands for nick-name.

(Ok, so, full discloser: the format is odd. The bullet points represent dialogue, and the only dialogue is between you two love birds. The first bullet point is Peter, the second is Y/N, the third is Peter, and so on.)

“I dunno, the whole ‘liking people’ thing has always been weird for me.”

“How do you mean?"

“Pppffftt- 'how do you mean,' what are you, Shakespeare or somethin’?”

“Yeah, because that’s the era when ‘how do you mean' would have been a popular term. Ok, what do you mean?”

“Just- when other people were liking people I never really was?”

He was gesturing wildly and avoiding eye contact, as always. He wasn't uncomfortable with eye contact, he just got bored easily in conversations, he needed to keep himself occupied. In this situation that meant staring at the red and green lights covering the rest of the roof, the snowy trees all over the yard, and a holly garland around the gate. Peter wasn't Christian, but man, did he love their Christmas decorations.

“Like… now? In school?”

“Well- yeah… but also when I was younger. And I never liked the right people? Or... liked them in the right way?”

“So you’ve never liked anyone.”

“No, no… I definitely have. It was just… weird! I don't-”

His hands dropped to his side in defeat.

“I don’t think it’s that out of the ordinary. I would tell you if it was. Also, if it was... 'weird', like you said, that wouldn’t mean it was necessarily bad.”

He hadn’t really heard what she said, he was too busy pondering what his next sentence would be. When she wasn't speaking, he was rambling.

"I had some of the normal crap… like in movies when they talk about the fluttery stomach junk. I've had that around a few girls I've been friends with, also that phase with the boy stuff, a-"

“Wait, what phase with the boy stuff?”

“Like- when you’re in middle school or whatever and you're gay for a second.”

His phrasing was a joke, but the statement as a whole was not.

“…‘Gay for a second’?”

“…Yeah?”

“Hmmm..."

"Is that- not-"

"I don't think that is... 'normal'... per-say..."

“Oh… Really?”

His heart sunk.

“…Yeah.”

“Huh.”

“…Mhm.”

“…Shit.”

He suddenly looked almost embarrassed. He shifted his posture, seemingly trying to shrink into himself.

“Do you... wanna chat about it?”

Panic started to slowly rise in him.

“Um- forget I said anything.”

“Why?”

Something in him said to go on the "defense". He did not appear as calm as he was intending to.

“I’m not- gay! or anything. I like girls! I do!”

She put her hand on his arm.

“Hey- look at me for a second. We are not in court, and I never 'accused' you of being gay. That would be a very funny reality TV show, but not what is happening right now. Listen, theoretically if you were gay that wouldn’t be bad! And I wouldn’t be… whatever you.. think that I would be? I mean- however you are afraid I would act in a negative reaction to it? I would try to be here for you, and be as supportive as possible.”

He didn’t believe her.

“Ok, sure.”

“Peter.”

“What? You’re going to tell me that you would honestly be friends with a queer person- be friends with me if I was... not... normal?”

She was taken aback by his tone, the word he had used, and the way he said it, felt like a weight dropping on her shoulders.

“Oh. would you… not?”

It was her turn to seem nervous.

“What?”

“Would you- stop being friends with someone for liking someone that they… I don’t know… shouldn’t... would be the word I guess?”

Why, in this situation, was she nervous? Oh. His fear was replaced with guilt.

“No.”

“Ok.”

“So… are you… do you… why were you scared?”

“... Why were you?”

She expected a joke from him, something along the lines of “touché".

“Are you… gay?”

“No.”

Yeah, he didn’t believe her.

“Uh-huh”

“Really, I’m not. I’ve liked boys, but also... I've had feelings for girls. I’m not… straight. So I just want to let you know that it’s okay if you aren’t too.”

“I never s-“

She smiled at him with a bit of pity, she had been there. The self-loathing, the feeling of walking on minefields with so many people in your life.

“You are…”

She paused.

“I am… what?”

“Give me a second I’m trying to find the perfect word.”

“… Okay?”

“Wonderful.”

That was not exactly the word he was expecting. Like, at all.

“Huh?”

“That’s the word. Wait- let me start over. You gotta look me in my eyes as I say it, because it’s gonna be really poetic.”

“Uh… should I be scared?”

“No. Maybe a little. No.”

“… Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You are… wonderful.”

“Oh... Thanks?“

He looked away again, to be honest, he was a bit uncomfortable. He rarely received compliments, especially ones that seem so... genuine.

“I’m not finished, look back at me, just for a second. You are so wonderful- and I will support you as whatever you are! I want you to know that I can- I can barely even think of something you could do that would make me genuinely hate you- like… maybe if you Dahmer-ed people or like chopped up a-“

He found this was amusing, yet disturbing.

“Y/N?”

“Sorry- I just- the fact that you thought, even for a second, that I could hate you… is just-“

“I’m sorry”

“No! Stop it. Don’t be sorry.”

She stared at him expectantly.

“What do you want me to-“

“Take it back! The sorry!”

“How?”

“Say you aren’t sorry”

“N/N-“

“Peter.”

“Ok. I’m, ya know, not sorry.”

“Good. You shouldn’t be”

“You’re weird.”

“Yuh-huh. Says the most likely, from the little information I've gathered, bisexual in denial who also happens to be the fastest boy on earth who had to slow down exponentially to interact with other people who also, also, happens sitting on a roof in the dead of winter with me.”

“What’s by smexual?”

Something about the way he attempted to repeat her words must have been hilarious, he thought, because here she was, sitting in front of him, in a fit of childish giggles. He would smile if he weren't so confused.

“No- that’s not- what I said- it’s… wait!”

“What?”

“You’re tryna get me off topic!”

“Am not!”

“Are too!”

“Am not!”

“Am not!”

“Are t- shit.”

“HAHA! Victory is a sweet dessert... wait is that even the saying? Still, I win you lose, nerd.”

“Ok, okay! go on.”

She was attempting to gather herself to give off a less jokey aura. It was half working, the "am not! are too!" argument a few moments ago made it hard for him to take her seriously, but he could tell it was important to her that he did, so he tried his best.

“You have to look at me again. just for a second.”

“I sw-”

“Just do it? Please?”

His attempt to put up a fight was thwarted by her small "please". He was pathetic.

“Okay.”

He looked at her.

“You…”

“Me… or- wait- I…”

“Are w-“

“Wonderful, yeah yeah. just get to the n-”

“No.”

“… No?”

“When you say it it doesn’t encapsulate it. It sounds silly.”

“Ok little miss ‘you art thou wonderful’, how would you have me say it?”

“I am you wonderful?”

“What?”

“You called me ‘little miss you are you wonderful’ what does that-“

“Ok! Would you just- shut up and call me wonderful one more time, please?”

She looked at him and blinked. That sentence surely came off as less ironic than intended.

“You are wonderful.”

She grabbed his face, in a half-joking manner. Her grab smushed his cheeks and she couldn't help but laugh a bit when she did it. Even though it was clearly a bit, he was still flustered.

“W-“

She shook him a bit.

"Shut up 'cause I'm about to say some beautiful and true shit. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are wonderful. You are absolutely, unchangingly, and irrevocably wonderful and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it, Maximoff.”

After saying what she would (in 40 years or so) recall as a painfully John Green-ish statement in her blunt and matter-of-fact manner, she let go of her semi-ironic hold on his pink cheeks. Were his cheeks pink because it was absolutely freezing, or because his heart was beating faster than he had ever (and would ever, mind you) run, you ask? No comment.

“Wow.”

“Wow what.”

“You do say it better than I do.”

“Did you like how I stressed different parts of the sentence each time? I thought that was a nice detail.”

“Wow.”

“So I’ve heard.”

“Wow.”

Did his voice just... break a little?

“Peter?”

“Uh- yeah?”

Was he a little... sniffle-y? She was now very concerned.

“Are you okay?!”

“Oh- um... yeah!”

No! No he was clearly not! He was sniffling!

“Really? 'Cause, you don't seem it.”

“It’s just- I just- wow.”

“Wow, what!?”

“That was just- uh-"

“Just what? It really wasn't that fancy, you seem much too impressed with me. Oh my God, was it terrible?”

“I mean it was really corny but w-“

“I swear to God if you say 'wow' one more time I may have to add ‘use of the word wow too much’ to the list of things that could make me hate you. Right next to the Dahmer stuff. That was a joke. Your use of the word wow is only mildly perturbing. Sorry."

She was panicking "just a bit".

“I’m sorry, I mean I’m not sorry. Sorry. Shit! sorry! I mean I’m not!”

And he was absolutely... full-on crying at this point.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

He was looking down at his mittens. Not that this is important, but they were very pretty mittens.

“Look at me, you klepto.”

He didn’t.

“You know- I’ve been hearing a lot of that 'look at me' stuff from you today. I mean- the klepto part is new-“

“Peter.”

“What?!”

He peaked up at her.

“Talk to me. Please, you're kinda scaring me, let me help.”

“I’m not sad!”

“You’re crying!”

“Yeah but not from the sads!”

“… The ‘sads’?”

“You know- when you get sad! It just means being sad! I don't- that’s what Wanda calls it, not me!"

He wiped his nose, tears still running down from his puffy eyes to his reddened cheeks.

“What are you crying from?”

“No one’s ever called me wonderful before.”

“I'm sorry! I did a few minutes ago and you didn’t cry!”

“No! You can't 'sorry' me if I can't 'sorry' you! And- yeah but that doesn’t count!”

“Why?”

“Because it only felt big when you said it the certain way!”

“What way!?”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks-“

“I'm sorry about that by the way I was j-“

“No! It’s really ok! Do it whenever! I mean don’t do it whene- shut up!”

“I’m not even talking! You're the one talking!”

“You look at me, you grab my cheeks, and you go: you are wonderful.”

“Yeah???”

“No one ever called me that before!”

"Peter, I- well- they- they should! They should! More often! Then the amount that it happens now! I think. In my opinion."

"Or really looked at me like that!”

“Looked at you like what, Peter?”

“Like I was somethin’!”

“Well, you are… ‘somethin'! Whatever that means! And- I think you deserve to be looked at as such!”

“See?”

“What!?”

“You just-“

A strangled sob escaped from his throat. He didn't know how to explain.

“Pete.”

“Ew. I hate that nickname.”

He crossed his arms over his chest like a toddler, trying to completely ignore the fact that he was an emotional wreck.

“Peter.”

“Yeah?”

She opened her arms and gestured for him to come closer. He was hesitant at first- but gave up all the reasons he shouldn't move to be closer to her in exchange for the promise of comfort she was offering him. He crawled over to her and curled up in her arms. The way she held him made him want to cry more. Who does she think she is- holding him like he was worth holding? With her chin sitting on top of his hair? Letting him do that gross cry sob with the spit and the snot into her only winter coat? Rocking him, and shushing him, and petting his stupid, silver hair? She was warm, too! The audacity of this woman.

When Erik brought Charles into his office to grab a chess set, they saw the two in the window. For a moment Charles considered telling Peter and Y/N to get off of the high platform, seeing as the two were the reasons the "no sitting on the roof" rule was enacted in the first place (neither of them were coordinated whatsoever). Charles quickly dropped this notion when he saw the look on Erik's face, Charles could tell it made him so happy to see Peter be held like that, cared for like that. Erik's expression made Charles want to both tell Erik that he is the most precious thing in the world, and make fun of him (look at Mr. Metal, gone completely soft). Possibly he could do both at the same time. But for now, he is just going to pretend he didn't see the two outside of the window, and have Erik grab them their game, go to the living room, and pretend not to have read Erik's mind when he inevitably asks him how he always manages to pick the white chess piece at "random".

[cheri-translates]

Headcanon - When you’re drunk and forget who he is

This work, 醉后不知 “我爱你”, was originally written by 喵小柒吃很少 on Weibo, and she has given me permission to translate it 🌸

[ GAVIN ]

After receiving Minor’s call, Gavin rushes over to the bar, where he finds you drunk out of your wits.

He turns to Minor. “What happened?” 

“Our bid for a big project succeeded. Boss treated everyone to dinner, and we drank a lot...” Minor replies nervously, handing your bag over to him with trembling hands.

After taking the bag from him, Gavin lifts you up from the sofa and leaves the bar.

“...mm?” Your eyes open slightly. “Who are you... why are there two of the same person...”

Gavin seems to be slightly angry. “Why did you drink so much...”

You wrap your arms around his neck, cutting him off. “Today was a wonderful day! Hahahaha I’m so happy!”

“You’re coming along with me even though you don’t know who I am...?” Gavin sighs. “I really have to teach you a lesson.”

“That’s right, you haven’t told me who you are!”

He clears his throat in an unnatural manner. “I’m Gavin, your... boyfriend.”

“Hm?” I... I don’t like Gavin anymore...” You slur.

???

Gavin is utterly confused. Frantic, he asks, “You don’t like me anymore?”

When he sees that you’ve fallen asleep, he leaves a kiss on your forehead. “Next time, I won’t let you get this drunk ever again.”

-

Your eyes flutter open in a hazy state, and you can faintly see the lights from the kitchen. You rub your temples in an attempt to ease the splitting headache. Weren’t you just having drinks with Minor and Willow in the bar? Why are you at home? Were you actually drinking in your dream?!

The series of questions in your head are interrupted by the sound of footsteps. Gavin walks towards you, carrying a bowl of sobering-up tea. Noticing that you’ve regained consciousness, he almost drops it.

“Ahem... you’re awake?” He sets down the tea, giving your head a rub.

You feel puzzled. “How did I return home?”

“Do you finally remember me now?” He smiles, and you can see a mixture of relief and joy in it. But in his heart, he thinks: Does she only remember that I’m Gavin?

Gavin looks at you, as though wanting to extricate an answer from your eyes. “Did you really forget about what happened earlier?”

“Yeah, I’ve forgotten...”

“Earlier, you...” Gavin pauses. “You drank too much, and couldn’t recognise me.” He seems to be at a loss, and his voice carries in it several degrees of despondence.

“Really?” You’re doubtful. “How could I forget my boyfriend~”

When Gavin hears this, his mood finally lifts. He scoops a spoon of sobering-up tea and brings it to your lips. “Mm, open wide.”

You sip the tea while trying to remember how you had behaved earlier, but to no avail.

Gavin’s voice breaks your train of thought. “Since you remember me, then...”

The lights in the room are dim, but you can sense heat radiating from his cheeks. 

“Shouldn’t you make it up to me?”

[ VICTOR ]

Victor leaves his files in the office, driving over to the bar after receiving Anna’s call informing him that you’re drunk.

“She drank a little too much...” Anna explains.

Victor sighs. “Got it.”

He walks over to the sofa and picks up the unconscious you.

“CEO Victor!” Anna stops him before he leaves. “Don’t be too hard on her. The company managed to obtain a big project today because of her hard work.”

“All right.” He’s curt, and doesn’t say more. 

Looks like he’s really angry!

You pull on his tie. “You. Are you CEO Victor...?”

“Who else?”

You nuzzle your head against his chest. “You’re not allowed to scold me... I succeeded in getting a very big project today!”

“I won’t scold you, but you’re not allowed to drink yourself into such a state.” Although Victor isn’t using a fierce tone, you still sense that he’s berating you.

You cover your ears. “I don’t like you anymore!”

“Hm?” Victor’s eyes flit to yours. “Say that again?”

“CEO Victor is such a big dummy! I don’t like you, I don’t like you, I don’t like you!”

“...dummies need to be punished.”

-

The moment your eyes open, you see Victor entering the room with sobering-up tea, donning the pink apron you bought for him.

At that moment, what runs through your mind is: Who am I? Why am I at home? Wasn’t I at the bar just now?

In the next moment, your confusion is dispelled by Victor’s aura. He sits down at your side wordlessly.

“Victor, what are you doing?” You ask weakly. When he wears such a stern expression and doesn’t speak, it really reminds you of the very first time you met him in LFG...

“What should you be calling me?” He arches his brows, dissatisfied.

“Victor... no, CEO Victor?” Your mind isn’t completely clear yet, and you mutter the first thing which comes to your head.

He sighs. “I’ll give you one more chance. Think of who I am.”

“Mm...?” You finally get what he’s driving at. “You’re Victor, my... boyfriend.”

A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, but he suppresses it immediately. Sternly, he says, “It’s rare for you to be so quick-witted. Why didn’t you remember this earlier?”

“I didn’t?” You try poking at your memory, but give up and change the topic. “How did I come back?”

“I think this sobering-up tea isn’t potent enough. A certain dummy is still not clear-headed.” Victor frowns. “First, you forgot who I was, then you called me the dumb one?”

Even more question marks pop into your head. “I did? I wouldn’t dare to call CEO Victor dumb...”

“I’m glad you have some self-awareness.” Victor leans in closer to you. “The punishment from earlier - shouldn’t it be carried out now?”

Punishment? Who’s punishing who? Huh?

[ LUCIEN ]

When Lucien sets down his experiment report and is prepared to head home to his Little Miss, he receives a call from Willow. It turns out that you aren’t at home, but drunk in a bar.

“Professor Lucien, you should hurry over and bring her home.” Willow points at the lump of you on the floor.

“All right.” He walks over, an unreadable expression on his face. Carrying you out of the bar, the coolness from the evening breeze sobers you up slightly. When your eyelids flutter open, the first thing you see are a pair of eyes.

“Who are you? Where are you taking me?”

He tightens his grip on you, a sly smile on his face. “Oh? You really don’t remember who I am?”

“I don’t recognise you...” You slur. “Put me down... I have a boyfriend...”

Amused, Lucien watches you. “Is that so? May I know who your boyfriend is?”

“Forget it. It’s already so late and he hasn’t found me... I don’t like him anymore!”

Hearing this, Lucien leans in closer to you, whispering into your ear. 

“Are you sure about that?”

-

Your head hurts.

Struggling to open your eyes, you get a fright when you see Lucien sitting quietly at the bedside.

“What are you doing here without saying a word?”

“Me?” Lucien responds. “I was thinking about how to make a Silly Girl take back her statement of not liking me.”

Not liking Lucien? What a joke!

“What are you saying?”

With a low chuckle, Lucien continues. “Why did you go out drinking when I wasn’t around, and even said that you no longer like me?”

Your chest tightens. Me? Drinking? Losing my memory? Forget it, what’s most important is self-preservation!

“Haha, did that really happen? How could that be? I like you the most!” Just in case he didn’t believe you, you inject a “Really really!”

He doesn’t seem to be as satisfied as you expected. He simply shifts closer to you, caging you between his body and the bed. 

"First, there’s something I want to know.” Lucien’s voice is soft, and his breath circles your ear. “Who am I to you?”

Although you feel like squirming out of this, you know that it’d be to no avail. “...my b-boyfriend.”

“Hm? Who is your boyfriend?” 

“You. You are.” You surrender.

Lucien is finally satisfied, and he smiles. “Good. Leave the rest to me...”

[ KIRO ]

“Kiro! Your girlfriend has drunk too much!” Kiki shouts from the other end of the call, above the blaring music in the bar.

“What?! Send me the address!” 

After hurrying over, he sees you slumped over the bar counter.

“You’re finally here!” Kiki exclaims in relief when she sees him. “We couldn’t stop her from drinking.”

“Miss Chips, what happened?” He cradles you in his arms, carrying you out of the bar.

Eyes fluttering open, you see a furious Kiro.

“Oh!” You point at him. “You’re the male lead from that new movie! His name is ‘Jia Yang’, right?”

This only makes Kiro even angrier - you actually forgot who he was?!

“Hmph! Miss Chips, that’s going overboard!”

The term of address turns some cogs in your head. “That name... My boyfriend calls me that often...”

“So you still remember that you have a boyfriend...”

“It’s okay! I watched your movie! I really like you! I don’t like him anymore!”

Kiro has reached the limits of his rage. “Miss Chips, you’ll have to remember what you just said! You can’t take it back afterwards...”

-

In your haze, all you can sense is the ticklish sensation on your face. When you finally manage to open your eyes, you vaguely note that Kiro is using a lock of your hair to brush your face.

“Kiro, what are you doing...” You mumble tiredly, turning around so your back is facing him.

Originally wanting to hold a grudge against you for what happened earlier, he hops over to the other side of the bed when he sees that you intend to ignore him.

“Miss Chips! Miss Chips!!!” 

“What do you want... Let me sleep...”

“That’s not allowed. Hmph~ You were on the verge of eloping with Jia Yang - how could I just sit here and do nothing?” He pouts, tousling your hair. “You didn’t recognise me just now... Who am I? Hmm?”

It’s as though a golden retriever is at your side. With absolutely no recollection of what happened earlier, you respond, “You’re Kiro... my superhero celebrity...”

Hearing this title doesn’t appease him.

“No no! That’s not the main point!” He hurriedly shakes you awake by the shoulders. “I’m Miss Chip’s boyfriend!”

“Mm, yes...”

“I command you not to think about Jia Yang!”

“Mm, okay...”

[ SHAW ]

After receiving a call from your colleague, he rushes over from a band rehearsal in Live House.

Shaw bursts into the bar, spotting your wasted self on the sofa. “Mary Sue, what’s wrong with you?!” 

“Hm?” You head lolls upwards to look at him hazily. “Who dares to call me that!”

“Me. Got a problem with that?” Shaw lifts you up, carrying you out of the bar. “Enough nonsense. Come with me. This place isn’t suitable for you, dumb woman.”

“Who are you? And who are you to decide what's suitable for me?!”

“Oh?” Shaw glances at you. “You’re dumb and stupid and now you’re pretending not to recognise me?”

“Stay away from me... I don’t want to go with you...” You mumble.

“Is that so?” Shaw spots a bench on the street and tosses you onto it. “You said it yourself.”

The cold evening breeze sobers you up slightly. Although your vision clears and you finally get a proper look at Shaw’s face, you also recall how he just “threw you away” seconds earlier. 

You huff. “I no longer have a boyfriend! I don’t like you anymore. Go away!”

Shaw is stunned. “What did you say?”

“Go. Away!”

He suddenly closes the distance between the two of you. “Is that what you really want, Sister?”

-

Shaw shakes you awake.

Blinking, you see his resigned expression.

“Stop sleeping!”

“...what are you doing?!”

He shoots you a glare. “I should be the one asking what you were doing!”

You rub the back of your head. “Me? What about me? Wasn’t I drinking?”

The air in the surroundings stills. Then, you hear thunder rumbling outside the window.

“You!” Shaw grabs you from the bed, pinning you against the headboard. “Is this what happens whenever you get drunk? You no longer recognise who I am?”

Oh no, this brat is really angry!

“How could I...” You mutter weakly, patting Shaw’s hair. “How could Sister forget about you~”

After a moment of silence, a faint hue of red paints his cheeks.

“Just now, a stupid woman told me to get lost.”

“How could Sister bear to do that~”

“All right then.” A smile tugs on his lips. “I know what to do now.”

-

More translated and original works: here

–

[ Permission to translate ]

喵小柒吃很少: Hello~ Firstly, I’m really touched that you like them, I feel very honoured~ You can translate the works! If more people who like MLQC can read them, I’m very happy too 💝 Thank you!

[adventuresofarainbowcrip]

Some things I have learned about teaching along the way, and some reasons why this is the best job ever!

Posted on January 29th, 2022

1) Teachers / professors do not have to wear certain clothing. It’s about how you carry yourself, how you behave and what you say. 

When I first began teaching undergraduates, I thought that I would have to change my whole wardrobe to be taken seriously. I like to wear colorful clothing a lot, or various patterns. I have since come to learn that this is not the case. I often wear patterned shirts with jeans or sweatpants and my students respect me. I still look clean and professional but also comfortable. Not in a suit. That’s not my style. I try my best to interact with my students in a confident manner and this is important. I have learned now that being a good teacher is not about what you wear but how you are with your students. My students and I have mutual respect for one another which I appreciate.

2) You can still be yourself while also being professional. 

I am naturally a silly, happy and excited person. It is hard for me not to be myself. I thought when I started teaching that being “professional” meant not showing that side of me much. I obviously have a professional persona but she is still very much authentically me. I get excited with my students, make jokes and share bits about my life with them. I have since learned that these qualities help me to be a better teacher because I remind myself that we are all just people. I am a person and my humanity is going to show when I am teaching, as will my students’ humanity. 

3)  You learn every. single. day. 

As a teacher, you are always learning. You are learning from your own teaching (what you struggle with for example) and the class itself. You learn what works and does not work for certain ages / people and groups. You learn how to think quickly and change plans if needed. You learn how to trust yourself and make decisions. You learn a lot from your students. Even though I may have more knowledge in French than they do, they all come with different stories and experiences that they bring to class. Being a teacher challenges me to have a more open mind and see things from different perspectives. 

One recent example of this is that last term, I had a student who hardly spoke in class. After a couple of weeks, I found myself being frustrated with this internally. One day, after I called on her and she seemed especially nervous, I decided to ask her privately why she did not speak in class. It turns out that she was homeschooled and so does not have much experience speaking in groups, and it also makes her really nervous to do. After learning that, I worked with her to come up with ways that she could still participate and not be so nervous. This experience reminded me that you should never assume you know why someone is doing something, and you should try to find out what’s going on so that you can figure out how to proceed. You never know until you ask. 

4) It is okay to admit when you have made a mistake or do not know the answer to a question. 

In my class, I try to show my students that I make errors in French too sometimes, to show them that mistakes are okay and part of learning. I make jokes about it sometimes, to remind them that, oops, sometimes even the teacher makes mistakes. When a student asks me a question, if I don’t know the answer, this is what our coordinator told us to say : “That’s a good question. I don’t know the answer, but I will find out and get back to you” or “Let’s explore this together.” I think it’s also good for them to see that just because I am the teacher does not mean I know everything about French, or that I sometimes forget things. 

Some things I love about teaching :

1) Being in the classroom (virtual or in-person) with my students brings me joy and helps me feel better when I am not feeling my best. 

There have been several days where I am not feeling great either physically, emotionally or both. Maybe I’m having anxiety on the way to work or maybe I had a long day and I wonder how I will make it through a late-afternoon French lesson online. But then I get involved with what I am teaching and with helping my students and it is almost like medicine. It takes my mind off of my current state and allows me to focus on my students. I am very grateful for my job and my students. They keep me motivated and excited even on the hard days.

2) I get do something that I love and share my passion for French with others. 

I feel super lucky that I have a job that I enjoy. As a teacher, I recognize that teaching is not about imparting knowledge to people from me (the supposed authority) to them (the people “under” me). It is about sharing the French language with them and guiding them through their learning. I get to show them cool music, fun words and introduce them to aspects of French and Francophone (other French-speaking countries) culture. I basically get paid to be a French nerd! :) I hope to pass on the inspiration that all of my French teachers (and other teachers) have given me over the years. I try to show my students of all ages how learning a language can be fun and exciting. I know that not all of my students will go on to study French as I did, but no matter how long they are in my class, I want them to have a positive learning experience. 

3) I get to feel fancy. 

I have a nametag that I wear for my university job. It says “Faculty/Staff” on it and it makes me feel professional. I love wearing my nametag. I tell my university students that they can call me either Nirvana or Madame. I enjoy getting emails addressed to “Professor F. (my last name, omitted for privacy). I also love getting emails that begin with “Bonjour Madame.” Both of those feel very fancy and teachery and it makes me feel proud of where I am and how far I’ve come.

4) Being  a teacher still has a lot of responsibility, but it is not the same as being a student. 

Since I have started as an adjunct this fall, I have had this experience quite a few times where I look around at all the students on campus and feel a great sense of relief that I am no longer a student. I still have lots of responsibilities, and many that a student would not have. Of course, I want my students and the others on campus to enjoy their time as a student, and I hope that they do. But I also just think sometimes, “Wow. I’m sooo glad I don’t have homework to do.” If I ever go further in my studies and get a PhD, I’ll be a student again. I know I’ll enjoy that if I do it. I love school. But until then, I will relish my time as just a teacher. 

5) My students (or children’s parents) let me know that they appreciate my teaching, which makes me feel really good.

I have received emails from parents of my school-age students thanking me for my lessons with their children, telling me how much their kid enjoys my lessons and /or how they appreciate that I’m helping their child. It’s cool to have the opportunity to teach children and teens as well, and to play a small part in someone’s development and educational journey. When I taught as a grad student, I received positive feedback from my students. 

So far this year, in a reflective assignment that my students have to do every two weeks, I have had several students tell me that they are enjoying the class and are excited to keep learning French. I have had others thank me for teaching them. Last term, someone let me know that they appreciated that I addressed the subject of newly created gender neutral pronouns in French. This term, a student told me she has anxiety about speaking in class. I asked if there was anything I could do to help make her feel more comfortable. She said that empathy, which she has already seen from me, helps a lot. Hearing these things makes me feel happy and lets me know that I am doing my job well. Sometimes I struggle with the idea that I am not “as good of a teacher” as someone else, or that I’m not doing my job well enough. I’ll dig into that in another post. 

Thank you for reading, and I’ll be back soon!

[hellpark]

TWEEK: [Grumble grumble...]

TWEEK: ...

TWEEK: Ugh, how are there no bars here.

TWEEK: How is earth shittier than hell right now.

TWEEK: I bet this stupid thing doesn’t even work up on the surface...

TWEEK: Stupid fucking...--

TWEEK: Wh--

TWEEK: Why is my phone talking to me again.

TWEEK: Why do I even use this dumb thing???

TWEEK: Wait...

TWEEK: It only ever does this when...

TWEEK: Ugh, when he’s around.

TWEEK: Hey, what are you doing???

TWEEK: You’re messing up my shit!

╤ ╝╤: ...

TWEEK: ...

TWEEK: Wait, is that him?

TWEEK: He’s not wearing his hat...

TWEEK: Wh...

TWEEK: No wait yeah okay yep that’s him.

PIP: Cheerio, friend!

TWEEK: Why are you walking around with all your stuff out, are you crazy?!

PIP: Rather bold of you to say, shouting from across the street like that!

PIP: Joking I am, of course.

PIP: All in good fun!

TWEEK: Why’s half of your clothes off, too?!

TWEEK: What if somebody sees you!!!

PIP: Let’s stop yelling, why don’t we, if you’re so concerned about a simple gaze or two in my direction!

PIP: Come on over here, why are you sitting all the way in that silly old log?

TWEEK: (Should I...?)

TWEEK: (What if one of the others is near by...?)

TWEEK: (It doesn’t feel like they’re around...)

PIP: Well?

TWEEK: Agh-- okay okay, fine!

TWEEK: Seriously, why are you walking around like that???

TWEEK: Isn’t--

TWEEK: Isn’t it super fucked up for people up here?

TWEEK: Don’t you guys have, like, standards on the overworld?

PIP: Why, of course we do, Tweek.

PIP: However, I don’t think my appearance has anything to do with manners or being polite.

PIP: At least, not the parts of me that I can’t control-- the physical parts of me, I mean.

PIP: In fact, the parts I can control are the very reason I’m headed the way I am!

TWEEK: What?

TWEEK: Make sense for once!

TWEEK: Since when are you so okay with how you look?

TWEEK: You can totally just-- just, hide all your shit away!

TWEEK: Ugh!!!

TWEEK: You’re so annoying!!!

PIP: Now now, Tweek, there’s no need to get riled up!

PIP: I’m not even sure what I did this time.

PIP: Always so angry...

PIP: [Ahem]-- Anyhow, I’ve been coming to terms with myself lately.

PIP: And I figure now is a better time than any to do so, considering my new status.

TWEEK: Man, please don’t remind me.

PIP: Well, friend, I’ll have a pretty hard time doing that right now.

TWEEK: Why.

PIP: Well for starters, I’m on my way to find Damien.

TWEEK: Oh god...

PIP: The problem here is, I haven’t the slightest clue where he might be at this time of night...

PIP: Certainly not in hell, no...

PIP: Hmm, I suppose he may be working.

PIP: I wonder if I can figure out where?

PIP: I mean, he’s told me what he does, but...

PIP: Mm, I’m not quite sure where a place like that would be around here, you know?

PIP: Oh but I’m sure someone around must know him well enough to tell me where he works.

PIP: Why, I’m sure the whole town over may know him, he could be the finest in his skillset around!

TWEEK: You’re rambling.

TWEEK: And I really, really don’t wanna hear about that guy.

TWEEK: Not any more now than before.

PIP: Oh! Sorry, sorry.

PIP: I guess I just... can’t help but be excited!

PIP: It may not feel this way for you, Tweek, but I’ve had so many memories here.

PIP: It’s just oh so nostalgic to be back!

TWEEK: It literally cannot feel that way for me, man.

TWEEK: I’m not even meant to be up here.

TWEEK: I don’t know what the fuck I’m doing, or what anything is.

PIP: Well I sure am not the best person to come to for advice on earth, I haven’t been here in about nine years myself, now!

PIP: Come to think of it, why didn’t you stay with the others after you ran off?

PIP: I’m sure they could have taught you a thing or two!

PIP: Much more than I, at least!

TWEEK: I can’t be around those guys right now, and you know why.

PIP: Ah, right.

PIP: Well, then, maybe I can show you a few things about the surface.

PIP: While you’re here with me, that is.

TWEEK: I’m... not sure if I really wanna...--

PIP: Oh, nonsense, nonsense!

PIP: Don’t give me that act now!

PIP: You’re curious about all sorts of things, I can tell.

PIP: Why don’t you follow me to the laundromat?

PIP: And afterwards, we can have a quaint sit down at a diner for some tea.

TWEEK: I don’t know what a laundromat is.

TWEEK: Stop making things up.

PIP: Oh, I can assure you that a laundromat is very real, Tweek!

PIP: You’ve never seen one?

TWEEK: I’m from hell!

TWEEK: All there was in hell was fire and rocks, until you came around, and now it’s all luau torches and palm trees and-- and stupid shit like that!!!

TWEEK: Not a single “””laundromat””” around, unless that’s this week’s newest stupid addition!

PIP: Oh my, no need to get hostile, dear friend!

PIP: A laundromat isn’t a tree or a torch.

PIP: It is simply a place to wash your clothes!

TWEEK: Wash... your clothes...?

PIP: Yes indeed!

PIP: I have to get all the blood off of these clothes somehow!

TWEEK: Like.

TWEEK: No, wait.

TWEEK: wait

TWEEK: You can just...

TWEEK: N

TWEEK: Wait if I go there I can WASH my SHIRT???

TWEEK: And like. Just. Have it be clean????????

TWEEK: JUST like that???

PIP: Ahahah...

PIP: You’re quite the funny one, Tweek.

PIP: I can never understand you.

PIP: Yes, you can clean your clothes, as simple as that.

PIP: You toss what you want into the washer drier, wait a little bit, and then you’re free to wear your freshly cleaned clothes to your heart’s desire.

TWEEK: What’s the--

PIP: No catch, friend.

PIP: None at all!

PIP: Come with me, and you can wash all the clothing you’d like.

PIP: The smell of a laundromat is quite lovely, too.

PIP: It’s a smell I think you’d be rather fond of.

TWEEK: Mmmmmmmmmm...

TWEEK: eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee.........

TWEEK: ghgh hg gu uuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuu...

TWEEK: W-well...

TWEEK: You said you were gonna look for Damien, too, right...?

PIP: That I am!

PIP: The whole reason I’m going to wash my clothes in the first place is so I can look spick and span-- just for him!

TWEEK: ...Well...

TWEEK: Mmmmmmh...

TWEEK: O-okay, I’ll go with you.

TWEEK: But-- but not because you taught me about anything.

TWEEK: Because I wanna find Damien, too.

PIP: Oh? Is that so?

PIP: I’ve never known you to want to be around the devil very much.

PIP: Considering you’re one of the very few who have the privilege to do so.

TWEEK: Yeah, well.

TWEEK: I wanna talk to him about something.

TWEEK: I think.

TWEEK: But if I’m following you around, could... like.

TWEEK: If it’s not for you, then could you at least just...

TWEEK: Hide all that shit so I’m not looking like a fucking weirdo or anything?

PIP: Oh I suppose, if it’ll make you more comfortable.

PIP: Let’s get a move on, then!