#does not speak proper english

[odd-theartist]

playing character.ai

and there a persona option on the website so i drew one of my “personas” aka my fpe oc so here it issss

If this gets… atleast five likes i’ll put the lore

Pls reblogggg eeeeee

“Helwo evyone”-kirby

[supercantaloupe]

ive never gone to see an opera live in europe let alone one outside of a major theater that regularly records and broadcasts their productions so grain of salt etc but i think there's some kind of distinct cultural difference between how european companies do "reimagined" productions of operas vs how american companies do it

[mishkakagehishka]

I really feel awful about how many details and images and such folks from palestine have to give to people to make sure they're believed, and are still not believed by some of you. And for reasons like "their messages seem copy-paste and their english is bad" ... God forbid a non-native speaker makes mistakes and asks for a script to more easily say what they want even if they don't have a good grasp on the language

[percabeth4life]

You seem to have misinterpreted my ask.

That wasn't a complaint, it was a genuine question as to why. I was hoping for an explanation of your thought process, and of course, you're not required to give one but there was no need to call it a meaningless complaint.

But the quote is referring to Greek names specifically like Patroklus (in which I have seen spelled as such, specifically in Peter Green's translation of the Illiad), not necessarily every word that is Greek in origin. Cyclops and centaur are both names for creatures in greek mythology but they are not proper nouns. My question is what was your thought process to apply Grote's C->K to every word? It's not a "why should you be able to", it's a "why did you?"

It's also interesting to note in your story the plural you use for octopus is octopi. Not the english pluralization of octopuses or even the greek pluralization (as it is a greek origin word) of octopodes.

I don't think you realize how often I get complaints and questions about me doing k instead of C. It is at the point that's it's very frustrating to get those questions because I've answered it dozens of times in a bunch of different places (including here, if you'd checked the ATLOP asks tag).

And the quote refers to many utilizations of such, as I read the history book I can assure you it uses K spellings far more than C, and only uses C when the author deems it overwhelmingly familiar to the readers. He mentioned names specifically because the chart right before the quote was the Greek vs Roman Gods.

Additionally, I did the C to K long before I read that history book. I was simply very pleased when I read it and saved the quote for those sending such questions in the future, I thought a historian agreeing might make some people back off but apparently they just double down, who knew.

If you want a genuine answer: I am dyslexic, it is easier for my dyslexia to spell the words with K when the sound should be a K.

And yeah, cause Octopus and Octopi are words in two languages, not turning a Greek word into English spelling but otherwise keeping it in the same forms. Octopus is at this point both Greek and English, and I like the way Octopi better and it is considered one of three valid forms. Also, that's a nitpick.

[ramrage]

fic concept: "dear simon"

ive been playing with the idea of writing a fic but it's told entirely through the pages of soap's journal, which have at some point become a collection of letters to ghost. of course he's never going to give them to ghost. he just needs a way to puzzle out their interactions because ghost is a cryptic pain in the ass and does he hate me or like me what's going on?

it definitely is chock full of limitations, but were i able to work around them and somehow make it benefit the narrative, it would be electric. the "truth" wouldn't matter or exist at all. it would be limited to soap's perception, colored by overthinking and shame/embarrassment despite trying to write something completely honest and for his eyes only.

shit i wrote at 3am below the cut. any suggestions/crit/feedback would be GREAT (plsplspls)

Dear Simon,

Yer never gonna read this. I’ll probably take a match to it when I’m done because yer a sneaky bastard and writing all this makes me feel like a cunt. I take to my journal, have been forever, to make my thoughts more real, yknow? not sure why i’m explaining myself to ye like yer ever gonna read it…

You’ve been getting on my last bleeding nerve, is the thing. Not like yer doin anything out of the ordinary for yerself. just the normal mysterious, aloof, fucken terrifying thing you do. with the stupid mask. fucken. i just didn’t know that /your thing/ also involved making fucken shite jokes bein endearing not as terrifying as i took ye fer. and that’s grand, except when you’re not being that way and i’m left to wonder how things went tits up.

i remember meeting you. they told me ye were some big scary fucker, and ye were, jesus, but i wanted to crack ye. after graves turned and left us to claw outta las almas, i thought i was. i didnae think ye’d wait for me, didnae think ye’d be in my ear with some of the most shite jokes i’d ever heard, but ye were. made me wanna push ye. see yer limits. i’ll be honest, i was full on with callin ye a good ol boy and tellin ye to take yer mask off. sorry bout that. but ye coulda shut me up and i know ye wouldnae struggle to. so i thought i found a boundary.

but you’ve been short with me all week. today, ye fucking head case, i do nothin more than nudge ye in the gym, tell ye yer liftin light + ye come at me like ye got a stick up yer arse. not even a quip back. whatdye say? some bullshite about respecting your superiors, /mactavish/. ye didnae strike me as a man who gave a quarter shite about vanity lifting and ye still don’t. im probably making somethin outta nothin and i dinnae ken why i even give a damn, give a damn enough to write it out like a wee fucken lovesick school girl, but here i am. i’ve not cared about people liking me for bleedin ages. and people tend to like me, no? charming and handsome bastard that i am.

maybe i don like thinking i can’t figure you out. yer rank pulling stunt has me wanting to punch the head clean off ye, but i still think i can crack ye. it’d do ye some good, lt. i told ye as much in las almas, and i meant it. not sure if ye got it, though.

well. i’ve not got anything left to tell ye, not today, and my hands are cramping somethin awful so i’ll sign off. until next time, ye jackarse.

J

notes to the readers that might exist:

in addition to literally any feedback you have, i have some specific questions about bits im particularly unhappy with/insecure about. but dw bout being too harsh or honest, i was in writing workshops (you wouldnt be able to tell smh) with liberal arts students with something to prove so my skin has been thickened yk. if by the grace of god you wanna beta pls lmk and ill have a child just so i can give you my firstborn xx

how do we feel about the strikethroughs? personally i think they can help me say shit that i want the reader to know but dont think johnny completely means or is ready to say

should i push details like that which reinforce that this is written by hand? like shorthand, writing + instead of "and"

i put slashes around things that i would otherwise italicize bc that's what i do when i journal. does it work? what would work better?

should the entries include dates?

how severely does it sound like an american trying to sound scottish lol? lmk what works/doesn't work im dying out here

i have an idea for the last chapter (despite not having a plot) and tbh it's predictable as hell but it could be zesty (;

[isekyaaa]

Sometimes I wish I could beta people's works without their permission like it's shocking to see the state in which some people think it's okay to post their fics. Like I'm not talking about plot, flow, word choice, etc. I'm talking about simple things like spelling characters' names correctly or using correct punctuation. Like pls sir let me help I'm begging you pls (/;A;)/

[demento]

KILL YOURSELF!!!!! RAGHHHHHHHH

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

[I almost killed your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich]- Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Summary: You sigh when it's the fifth time someone fights in your poor tea shop this month. You just open it two months ago, in an area ruled by mafia called '141'. Maybe you should find their boss and give them money or what to stop the bullshit keeps happening in your shop. (well, here they come)

Mafia!TF141*F!Reader

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

After the unexpected encounter with Soap and Ghost, your shop finally owns the vibes of peace.

The customers become so ‘normal’, almost feels like you aren’t in the same area as before – if you ignore the blood on their shirts or recall the memory of seeing them punching someone across the street. You assume the men must tell them to behave in your shop, but you must say the minions become a bit overreacting. They call you ma'am, chat as quietly as possible, and one of them even apologizes when he accidentally touches your finger as if you will chop off his pinky. You start doubting if they view you as a secret henchman of 141.

It’s morning now, the shop usually has more people at this time, but you haven’t had a single customer since you opened it 30 minutes ago, they just vanished without any hint, hence you start testing out new recipes for your bread.

Lilting the song that’s fully out of tune, you slice the bread you just baked into pieces, and throw one into your mouth. Perfectly crunchy outside, fluffy like clouds inside. Oh my, you’re such a genius.

You’re totally unaware of your visitor until he stirs the air with a cough and his voice.

“Pardon me?” He calls you again, but you’re left in a trance when you land your eyes on him.

Damn, he looks just like your imagination of the man in the Dilf next door fic you just read yesterday on co5. Your eyes travel from his well-trim beard, south to his belted waist. Why does a man with a toned body – which his khaki coat can’t even hide –  have such a tiny waist? Your mouth's agape at the sight as you’re about to respond.

“mmsadjsmm” The man raises his eyebrow in confusion, and you hear your voice not forming a proper sentence too. Ah, you forgot the bread’s still stuffed in your mouth.

“ehemm, Sorry Sir, I mean what would you like to have?” Quickly swallow the bread and try to pretend you didn’t just dumbfounded in front of him, you speak again.

“English breakfast, please.” He croons with an infatuating smile as he saunters to take a seat. 

His voice is quite soothing, you admit in your mind as you start brewing said man’s tea, just like you presumed the Dilf in the fic… okay, you really should clear those nasty brainrots during work.

The tea is nicely served in the tea cup and brought to the man shortly after.

You can’t help the smile crawling onto your face when you see him grin at you after a sip. You love watching your customer enjoy your tea, and he obviously relaxes with it have you bask in your achievements.

“Don’t finish your breakfast?”

“Just trying a new recipe. I want to add it to my menu.” you reply with a shake of your head, and after a brief halt, you add a question “ Have you eaten breakfast yet, Sir”

“Call me John, love.” The man – John sets his cup on the table before continuing “And no, I haven’t”

“Then… would you like to have a grilled cheese sandwich? I can’t finish the bread myself, it would be great if someone could help me with it... Of course, it isn’t a must!" You hurriedly complement when John widens his eyes slightly at your suggestion, but he meets your eyes with interest within.

”I would love to.”

You beam up as you get the affirmation, and walk behind your counter again.

Slices of bread are already prepared. The pro tip for a delicious grilled cheese sandwich is giving the bread some nice seasoning first, so you pick up your black pepper jar before inquiring about John’s preference.

“How much pepper would you like, John?”

“Would be great if it’s more.”

“Alright.”

You turn back to season the bread, but when you pick up the pepper jar and about to shake it, a question slips into your brain making you pause.

How much is “more”?

The man doesn't have time to sit here and wait for you to contemplate the philosophy of seasoning, so after biting your bottom lip and thinking for 30 seconds, you shake the jar. More is better, you recall what John told you as your hand keeps moving.

You shake it 10 times, since more is better.

Apart from the bread, you hold full confidence in your grilled cheese sandwich. Placing generous amounts of cheese in between, the coveted smell flooded your little shop as you plate the well-toasted sandwich.

“It surely smells great.” John praises before diving in.

You hang a big expecting grin until John takes a bite and starts coughing like you will put him into the ER with a sandwich.

“It’s– it’s okay…love…” He tries to comfort you when you apologize abundantly and rush back to your counter to fill him a cup of water. Holy, isn’t more pepper better? Now you're going to send the man to heaven with a grilled cheese sandwich.

“Here’s water!” You go back to John as fast as you can with the cold water in your hand, you’re busy checking out John, who stops coughing madly but cheeks pink with the spices, and you don’t see the leg of the chair sticking out of its usual place.

A pair of arms catch you from slamming onto the floor, but the cup isn’t that lucky as it flies with Newton’s help and clatters on the floor.

“Shit! I’m so sorry!” You stabilize yourself in John’s support. But wow,  now the man not only just recovered from a fatal attack to his throat, but also has a wet spot spreading along the chest part of his shirt.

“No worries, love. It’s just a shirt.”

Even though John attempts to calm you, you still can’t help the sheepishness creep to your cheeks and stain it with the same pink as John’s, or stop thinking about if the balance in your bank account is able to buy the man a new shirt. You remember you wanted to get some cash out of the cashpoint but it shoved an ‘insufficient funds :(‘ into your face.

You really don’t want any customers to come in right now, even if it means your little tea shop will close down because you only have one from the start of today, but fate always gifts you things you crave when you don’t need them.

“Sorry boss, I’m late.”

You look at the tan-skinned man standing like a model just escaped from his manager, staring at you shoving a towel on John’s chest and both of your cheeks smeared with suspicious red.

“What happened?”

I almost murdered your boss with my grilled cheese sandwich. Apparently, you can’t answer with this, so you face John for help.

and he’s looking at you too, with a sly smirk awaiting your explanation.

You wonder if you can just make two sandwiches to shut these men up, with one more for yourself to end this predicament now.

a/n: ty for reading :D have a nice day/night!

No John Price is harmed in this chapter.

tag list :D - @blackhawkfanatic @nexthyperfix @danielle143

[canvas-madness-txc]

Random Underfell Headcanon

The Underfell Temmies talk like the 2012 Kraang (yet with even worse grammar). Except for Bob who talks like Kraang Subprime.

[buntanteen]

sweet and loving boyfriend!joshua headcanons <3 (sfw)

summary: shua and reader romantic relationship headcanons :3 (you can read as a stand alone or as a part of the upcoming jihan poly relationship!!)

contains: mushy romance. implications that reader speaks korean & english

✩ svt writing & fic rec masterlist ✩

boyfriend!joshua who'll let you cling and bite onto his thick ass arms and put your face in his tiddies😌

sunday mornings are exclusively quality time with boyfriend!joshua. y'all will be making a breakfast spread or sitting on the balcony soaking in the sunrise, just quietly enjoying each other’s presence. joshie’s absolute favourites are rainy sunday mornings (…WE KNOW WHY) and he will smoother you with in bed cuddles <3 🥹

boyfriend!joshua who is completely and utterly enamoured by you. the two of you will make eye contact and he'll hit you with that lil ◠‿◠ smile and then you're melting and now he's melting and you're both melting, and the members are disgusted at how ooey gooey y'all are being

disgustingly sweet boyfriend!joshua who always does cheesy shit to make you blush. he’ll ask "hey, can you hold this for me? ><" and then proceed to put his hand in yours fgjkdbs

having to compromise with boyfriend!joshua about texting back because why does this man not reply to people??

boyfriend!joshua who will always order food for you!! and will always feed you the perfectly made bites of his meal as well :3

boyfriend!joshua who likes to share his specific taste in things (furniture, perfumes, jewellery, etc.) with you. even if you aren't for fancy things, you'll show interest for him because it makes him happy 😊

an absolute sucker for seasonal or weather-based dates. especially water based dates...what can i say boyfriend!joshua likes water. is so so happy in the rain, just running around splashing puddles (what can i say...he likes water :3)

winter dates: going ice skating and when u fall boyfriend!joshua skates up to u in distress and asks if u need some ice for that😑will buy you snacks at the street vendors as an apology and to warm you up <3

summer dates: at the beach where boyfriend!joshua loves taking sunset pics of you to make his phone's lockscreen and background

boyfriend!joshua who can't meet you empty handed and will get you random things such as lil drinks, a pair of socks cuz they were cute or an expensive ass perfume cuz he thinks it'll smell nice on you :3

boyfriend!joshua who will sweetly serenade you with his guitar…and then bust out the sunday morning because he got too shy afterwards

on days where you don't feel the best, boyfriend!joshua will come home to you with a care package when you feel down and absolutely pamper you with whatever you desire until you feel better. he'll definitely do that head patting thing to you 🥹

boyfriend!joshua kissing your hand as he leaves for his schedules. you tightening your grip and pulling him closer, causing him to do that delighted laugh of his before he gives you a proper goodbye kiss gjkfbd

matchy matchy outfits and items with boyfriend!joshua 🥰 loves when you’re matching him with a phone case or a keychain or jewellery or the entire fit

boyfriend!joshua being a gentleman and you being a one right back at him. it becomes a competition atp for who can do the more chivalrous thing. you opening his car door after he's driven you to your date destination? he'll open up the door to the establishment for you (he waved open to the sensor door thing lmao)

boyfriend!joshua u find him not crazy but it turns out u just are the same level of freak as him :D he's just crazy and crazy for you <3

trying out different hands on activities with boyfriend!joshua!! y’all are on a mission to try to impress his momma with baked goods (cuz wdym making cookies is easy THAT SHIT IS DIFFICULT😭)

switching languages with boyfriend!joshua during conversations. pulling different english or korean words whilst the members just stare at you confused (vernon either joins in or is in his own world)

boyfriend!joshua sweetly calling you “baby” or “yeobo”. or will casually call you “babe”. calls you “my baby” “my darling” in very romantic moments or when he wants something really badly cuz he knows it'll make you fold 😌

always making boyfriend!joshua laugh because it makes you so happy to see him so happy. his laughter pierces you, blooming and spreading joy throughout your body

boyfriend!joshua who is just a soft lover with a glowing warmth to him. he's the rays of the sunset that warms you after a long day with the promise of a better tomorrow <3

ames note: i am so SOOOO down bad for this man it is crazyyy. his recent live was my first ever live of joshie and i was just?? giggling??? and smiling??? so much!?!? svt at lollapalooza is in just over a day!! i hope everyone can enjoy ittttt (it is at like 3am for me rip. i hope y'all enjoyeddddd the writinggg~ i'm gonna write a jeonghan and jihan poly headcanon at some point idk when tho <3 ς(.-‿-)

author note: do not distribute my work on other platforms without my consent. if you see my writing in places other than this tumblr account, please let me know. my writings are purely fictional fantasises for fun. the people i write about are real human beings and should still be treated as such. please do not take my writings seriously or as truth.

[buttercuparry]

This is ridiculous now. We have so many people posting about Siraj. We have so many artists holding commissions or raffles for Siraj, and yet for hours on end Siraj's campaign stagnates.

In 6 hours today Siraj raised only $25 CAD in donation!

A man spends hours on this godforsaken website to network with people, he spends hours away from his family- risking his life just so he may get an Internet connection to reach out to you all, and then for all of his trouble, he gets to raise only $25 CAD in 6 hours???? Fuck you all !!

Siraj does not even have the liberty to talk in his mother tongue! This man has to patiently use machine translator to speak to you in the language you understand, instead of it being the other way round. He has to make sure to cross that bridge of communication and yet you all are so shitty, that the moment he is out of your sight, he is out of your mind...like fuck you even my mother tongue is not English. I am so angry right now that I want to scream at you in my own tongue, but instead I have to attempt to construct a proper sentence in English for you all to read.

Every single day I am out here, writing to boost Siraj's fundraiser- begging people to edit my writing so that it can be considered good enough to go out into tumblr. So that it may hold your attention. Everyday I have to experiment with font sizes and colours- hoping that you all read! But nothing. Nothing at all. You all do not listen that he has to reach 30k CAD by tomorrow.

So ultimately the fact is that nothing matters on tumblr. Not the fact that Siraj is running himself ragged between caring for his son who has fallen sick and messaging you on tumblr. Not the fact that so many of us are boosting his posts, or holding art commissions for him. No tumblr is of course tumblr, and a post needs to hit just right to even consider a donation, because yeah Free Palestine and all that in rhetoric but fuck the actual Palestinian man in Gaza who is trying to rebuild his home.

Like to think there are so many leftist political discussions on this site reaching hundreds of thousands notes. Like lol you all just love to put that shit on your blog and bask in it 😂😂 you all don't want to click on links. You all don't want to donate. You all don't want to adopt fundraisers. You all don't want to boost. What the fuck do you want to do then???

I don't know if you all will even bother to take your time to read this. But right now Siraj is at $27,720 CAD. Find it in yourself to donate. Please get him to 30k by tomorrow. If you cannot find it in yourself to boost the post. Take it out if tumblr if you have to!

( vetting at number 219 on Hussein's list)

[drumlincountry]

For example, I acquired English in Ireland, where we speak a number of overlapping dialects that get grouped under the title "Hyberno English".

Depending where you are in the country, you may hear things like "Are yous coming with me to the shops later?" "Did yiz both study biology?" "I heard ye two were away on holiday!"

These forms are often criticised as not "proper" English because of classism and such. But they ARE proper English and I suspect most dialects have them.

Also! If you answered yes, I'd love to learn what your second person plural pronoun is! Especially if I didn't list it above :>

[astronicht]

Hi I hope this isn't presumptuous, but so, that post you made about Tolkien making the lads leave their weapons outside the hall and CS Lewis thinking the hall was gonna get burned down by a lady who also wanted to kill herself... what's the historical precedent for that? Is there a trope in medieval lit where people like... do that? I ask because uh. I am obsessed with Children of Hurin and there's a scene where that like, happens. And I'm obsessed with that scene, and would love to know if there's like, cultural/mythic context that would enrich my knowledge!

OH BOY, sorry I'm getting to this late, it's been uhhh a summer, but one, this is a very good question!! And two, yes there is absolutely precedent, particularly in early medieval literature, and high medieval literature set in the early medieval (circa 500-1100 AD) past. I'll let someone else debate how often people actually historically locked their enemies into a hall and burned them, but especially in Old Norse literature (and if Fellowship felt like it leaned a little more on Old English literature, Two Towers, where Eowyn appears, felt a little more Old Norse) this is common. Off the top of my head, you've got many Icelandic family feuds ending in burning the whole family in their hall, like Njal's Saga (Old Norse), Attila the Hun dramas (yeah he's a big guy in the burning halls circuit, but actually not in the way you might expect) like his cameos in Volsung Saga (Old Norse) and Nibelungelied (Middle High German), and my vague recollection of a few Irish and Welsh versions that no search engine is giving up for me right now.

This, predictably, got long and slightly off topic.

Disclaimer: As usual, I should say I come from an Old English-centric background, and Old English literature is actually notable among all its neighbors for not burning down too many halls. Second disclaimer, all links are not proper citations, they just go to wiki.

Hall-burning in literature is, to my understanding, part of the concerns of a few early medieval cultures in which revenge is not only expected but in many cases legally reinforced and codified, and one in which conflicts could spiral to engulf -- figuratively, or literally and in flames -- entire families. Many medieval Icelandic sagas are focused on this exact type of destruction of whole families or friendship/community units. Most relevant of these to Eowyn, Two Towers, and the vibes of Edoras (since alas I am only partway into RotK and can't speak to Children of Hurin yet!) is Volsung Saga, which is set on the Continent, not Iceland, and actually has to do with Attila the Hun. As mentioned before, an incredible amount of stuff turns out to have to do with Attila. We will come back to him!

So, on the particular post you're talking about, a few people iirc have replied pointing out that the hall in TT is clearly supposed to be based on a hall from Old English literature, namely the hall in Beowulf, which famously did not actually get burnt down. And that's all true! I was not posting with much nuance; I was mostly having a joke at the expense of CS Lewis. However, I was also referencing a very very common trope in Old Norse/early medieval stories, and I personally think JRR was as well (AND I think Beowulf was also very consciously referencing the exact same motif anyway) (no one has to agree with me, a tumblr blog, on any of these points).

The thing about the hall when our heroes approach is that the scariest damn thing in that hall is Eowyn. Certainly not every hall-burning story requires a woman with no other recourse to set the fire (in fact, the "warrior band approaches unknown hall which might have a grudge against them" is a trope that can get you killed in a pretty homosocial environment, as I guess Aragorn at least was aware, being a big reader). Still, the presence of a woman who is swiftly running out of options does fit what I'd consider one of the or perhaps The best known version of the early medieval burning hall trope: Gudrun, who shows up in at least a dozen different texts in both the Scandinavian and the German language traditions, including Volsung Saga, a text which itself often gets paraded around as the basis of lotr (which I'm sure it is, in that JRR appears to have simply and very fairly based lotr on every piece of early medieval vernacular literature I can think of).

In a portion of Gudrun's story (which of course changes a bit in each retelling), after her first marriage she is unhappily married to Atli, who is none other than our main man Attila the Hun. After Attila kills her brothers for reasons (in one version, her father), seeing no other way to take the necessary revenge and no other way out, she kills the two sons she had by him, serves them to Attila for dinner, has Attila killed, and then sets fire to the hall with everyone in it. After this, she attempts to drown herself.

The self-destruction of this act is a really important beat, and has only gotten more-so as a comparison to Eowyn the further I've read into RotK (currently, I'm at the houses of healing after merry and eowyn take on the witch king). It's a lot clearer in the book than the films, for me, that Eowyn going off to battle was not so a straightforward empowering and/or freeing move, despite allowing her some agency, but more the one path she saw as available to her with which to die with honor (which was pretty much exactly what Gudrun was facing as well). Like Gudrun, whose first husband was a great hero but has died, Eowyn's romantic choice is a hero who is presumed dead (sorry Aragorn they did Not believe in your ghost skills). In fact, in some versions Gudrun does put on armor and fight with her brothers before they're killed. She kills Attila with her own hand, with the help of another man who needs to avenge a blood feud against Attila.

So while Eowyn didn't get forced into marriage to Attila Wormtongue (with apologies to both historical Attila and that one historical skald also called Wormtongue who was reportedly hot) and burn the whole place down, she's still trapped, and like Gudrun chooses destruction alongside her household.

Reading her arc feels so much like watching Tolkien write a fix-it for Gudrun. What if she got this one little chance, and this one other little chance, and this one more -- tiny little shifts in the narrative that allow her to get out, and not through fire, and not through death.

Anyway, this got away from me. I hope it added some context to the Children of Hurin arson case! Thanks for the ask

[wolfish-chan]

More of my batfam headcanons since you guys liked them

- After Dick moves out, Alfred finds Bruce in Dick’s old bedroom staring aimlessly

- Sometimes, especially in the beginning years as Batman, Bruce has days where he can’t stand to look in the mirror because those aren’t his eyes staring back at him — they’re Martha’s

- There’s a lullaby that all of the family knows because Alfred would sing it to them on their hardest nights, even when they were adults

- Alfred has made the habit of becoming fluent in all the languages his family speaks

- Bruce tries to do the same, but he’s not nearly as fluent. There’s still a lot of proper pronunciation he can’t get right and the kids make fun of him for it constantly

- Alfred speaks with them in their preferred language as often as possible, but usually sticks to English when they’re all together

- Everyone is a polyglot, except Cass, who currently only knows English and ASL

- Cass doesn’t speak often, as she’s still not used to having the ability to, but she wants to become a polyglot eventually, too. Her brothers help her practice

- It’s become a running joke amongst Bruce’s kids that whenever Father’s Day rolls around, they make cards for Alfred instead of Bruce

- Alfred keeps every single one

- No one has any idea what Alfred’s room looks like. Stephanie is convinced he doesn’t have one and that he sleeps in the cave (“I’m telling you guys! He sleeps upside down like a bat!”)

- Bruce is impossible to sneak up on, unless it’s Cass. She likes jumping out from behind corners and spooking him.

- He doesn’t react aside from throwing whatever is in his hands into the air. One time he threw an entire cup of hot coffee in his own face without so much as blinking

- Tim absolutely despises Country music, but Kon listens to it non stop and it’s drives Tim crazy because it’ll get stuck in his head for weeks on end

- Dick and Wally love going to haunted houses together, but only the intense ones where you have to sign a waiver

- They tried to take Starfire with them once, but she knocked out one of the employees when they jumped out at her so she now has a permanent ban

- Dick used to keep those alphabet fridge magnets at his apartment, but he kept finding them rearranged to spell swears and he still has no idea who was doing it

- Tim has a photographic memory which he uses to spout off random facts when someone annoys him

- Bruce: “try that again and I bench you” 13-year old Tim: “well did you know pigeons can be trained to tell the difference between Picasso and Monet paintings” Bruce: “okay”

- All of the younger bats think Jason was the problem child, but it’s actually Dick. Bruce tells them this constantly and they never believe him

- Jason doesn’t visit the manor often, but when he does, he always makes sure no one’s home. He’ll sit in his childhood bedroom that Alfred has kept immaculately clean with all the lights off for hours. He slips out as soon as he hears someone come home

- Jason chooses to ignore that his bedsheets are always newly washed because he knows Alfred is doing it in case he ever decides to come home

- He doesn’t know that Alfred used to do it when Jason was dead, too

- Alfred only ever lets Duke wash dishes because he’s the only one he can trust not to break them

- Dick is ridiculously good at juggling

[woso-dreamzzz]

Snow

Hardersson x Child!Reader

Part of The Big Adventures Universe

Summary: Your first snow

You're dressed in the cutest snow suit possible with little black booties that make it very difficult for you to walk but you look like a marshmallow and Pernille thinks that's adorable.

"Okay," She says to you, zipping up the suit and shoving a green Wolfsburg beanie on your head.

You're still very little but you can walk now so Pernille takes your hand tight in her own and swings the door open.

It reached freezing last night and a large layer of snow covers the ground. You've never seen snow before and it makes you all wiggly in excitement.

You grunt out your frustration of Pernille still holding your hand. You kind of want to touch the white stuff. It's annoying you that Momma isn't letting you do it.

She laughs slightly before falling back. You fall on top of her, your movement made awkward by the layers of clothes she's dressed you in.

"This is snow, princesse," She explains to you, picking up some of the powdery white stuff and letting you touch it.

It's cold and it's a little crunchy under your hands. You grab a handful and smush it together. You know that it's really cold because you're wearing mittens and you can still feel it.

You kind of like the feeling and you move to high-five the ground while you giggle hysterically.

Momma laughs with you before flopping down properly and moving her legs and arms.

"It's a snow angel," She says before repeating the words in Danish, Swedish and German.

Pernille's trying to bring you up multilingual. She's not entirely sure if it's working but she's trying. She speaks just Danish in the house with you, a combination of German and English when outside and then Swedish when Magda's on the phone.

She hopes it isn't too confusing for you but, to be honest, you're not really paying attention to her right now, too focussed on sticking your hands in the snow and throwing it around.

"Snow angel," Pernille repeats just in case you passively take it in, repeating it firmly in all languages before helping you sit so you can one too.

Your clothes stop a lot of your motions so it looks a lot more like a blob than anything else but you seem happy enough with it, reaching down to swipe more snow.

"Hey, no," Pernille says quickly when it looks like you're going to put the snow in your mouth," We don't eat it. It's not food."

You stare blankly at her and move to put your snow covered mittens back in your mouth.

Pernille laughs as she pulls your hand away. You look a little annoyed at that but she distracts you easily by throwing a little heap of snow at your belly. You look down at where she's hit you, shocked like you never even thought that this was something you could do.

You touch the front of your suit with a little open mouth. You clumsily lean down to scoop up your own pile and throw it right at Pernille's face. Your aim is a little off though and it just spatters against her chest.

Pernille laughs and throws more at you.

You decide that this is a fun game and grapple to get more. None of them are ever made into proper snowballs, more like little handfuls of powder than anything else. There isn't much force in your throws either but Pernille plays along, letting every hit make her fall flat on her back and pretend to be wounded.

You must find this incredibly funny because you giggle hysterically every time she does so before flopping on top of her to check that she's just playing around and you haven't actually hurt her.

You roll around in the snow with her a few more times, making your blob-shaped snow angels but your head snaps up when a voice you recognise speaks.

"Well, don't you look all nice and cosy as a marshmallow?"

You don't understand all her words but you recognise the voice. You try to get up quickly but Momma's dressed you in lots of clothes so you fall straight onto your back.

You whine, holding your arms up.

Morsa pops up in your vision and immediately takes you into her arms, holding you nice and close like you love.

Pernille watches on, dusting herself off before wandering closer. "You're early. I thought you said that your flight wasn't until this afternoon."

"I got on an earlier one," Magda replies, still holding you against her body," I missed you both."

"We missed you too," Pernille says, pressing a kiss to her partner's lips softly.

"How has she been?" Magda asks," Good?"

"Like an angel."

"I can see that." Magda tilts her head to the you-shaped blobs on the snow. "But she's looking a little cold. How about we go back inside and warm up?"

Magda doesn't wait for an argument and leads the charge back inside. You seem especially happy when she strips you of all your layers and lets you walk around with your little toy walker.

It's with practised precision that Magda whips up two hot chocolates for her and Pernille that they drink while you wander about on your wobbly little legs.

At some point, you end up holding Magda's knee and try to climb up onto her. She has to put her drink to the side to pick you up. You lean forward to leave a breathy kind of kiss on her cheek before you completely crash out on her chest.

Magda fondly pushes your hair out of your face, soothed by the soft puffs of your breathing against her collarbone.

"She's exhausted," Pernille says, throwing Magda the baby blanket to wrap you in," I think she got a bit too excited about the snow."

"There's no such thing as too excited," Magda denies, wrapping you up nice and tight. She bites at her lip and glances down the hall to where your crib is waiting for you.

"Don't," Pernille warns as if she senses Magda's thought process," She goes down in the crib for naps, you know this."

Magda pouts. "Oh, Pernille, please? I haven't seen her in so long-"

"Literally last week."

"-Can't you let me keep her a little longer?"

Pernille sighs with such a strong eye roll that it's a wonder that they don't permanently get stuck in her skull. "Fine but you're in charge of dinner with her tonight. She can get you all messy instead of me."

Magda doesn't really care about that though as she tightens her grip ever so slightly to make you more secure. She adjusts her positioning so she's lying down with her feet in Pernille's lap and you're properly laying on her.

"You're going to stay right here," She whispers," Right here with Morsa."

[j2hoes]

Foreign Exchanges. (Anthony Vaughn x Reader.)

Summary: Moving school in the middle of the year is never easy. Let alone from an entirely different country. Despite Y/N trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, she still manages to catch the eye of a certain brunette.

Word Count: 1.5k

Gif Not Mine . Requests are open!

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: My first Ant fic and I’m debating making this a series but you’ll have to let me know what you think! Anyway just a short one to start us off but there’ll be more soon. Don’t forget requests are open!

“I’d like you all to offer a warm welcome to our new student Y/N Y/L/N, she’s moved here all the way from the UK! So let’s show her some of that Hartley spirit.” The teacher, who introduced herself as Jojo, announces to the class. All of them staring at me with blank stares. “Go ahead and say a few words.”

She nudges my shoulder gently before I can decline the offer. Encouraging smile on her face. There are no smiles from my classmates however, only bored faces who couldn’t be less interested in my arrival. For which I’m grateful. I’d seen this school on the news prior to my enrolment, I know these students are brutal. I mean, a sex map? Dad wasn’t too happy about sending me here though he didn’t really have a choice, no other schools were admitting students this late into the term.

“Um hi, I’m Y/N. It’s good to be here I guess.”

“Does anybody have any questions for Y/N?” Jojo offers, attempting to find a way for the class to get to me.

Numerous hands raise and I let out a groan internally. It’s bad enough that I’m stood at the front of the classroom like a new shiny toy but to now be subject to whatever ridiculous questions these teens can come up with is a new form of torture. One that I am really not looking forward to.

Jojo points to her first student, allowing them to be the first to ask. “Why don’t you have a proper British accent?” The girl seems genuinely curious, eyes focused on me as she combs her fingers through her orange hair. Stickers adorn her face along with colourful eyeshadow to match her bright outfit. She has a gentle aura surrounding her, which makes me relieved as I realise her question wasn’t meant in malice and more so pure interest. Maybe these kids won’t be so bad?

“Um, I think the accent you’re think of is the Queen’s English. There isn’t many people that talk like that really, maybe a few down south but I grew up in the North East. None of us talk posh.” I tell her, watching as she seems to take notes as I speak.

“Thank you Quinni, Spider what about you?” Jojo asks, pointing to the tall blonde that is hunched over at the back of the class.

His eyes flicker up to me, giving me the once over though he doesn’t seem too impressed by my presence.

“Yeah, what is it with you and all the other poms having bad teeth?” The boy pipes up, I notice the two boys next to him laugh. Though the one in the baggy outfit makes eye contact with me and a flash of guilt appears on his face.

“I don’t have bad teeth actually. Nobody I know does and to be perfectly honest, that stereotype is deeply rooted in classism and while the UK faces a major cost of living and wealth gap crisis, I don’t think it’s funny to joke about things like that. Do you?” I retort, causing h the pink haired girl and her friend to applaud my mini speech. Both offering cheers.

“Okay any more questions that aren’t going to cause arguments?” Jojo asks, a few hands lowering as they don’t want to get in trouble. “Yes, Amerie?”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, yeah I really miss it.” I start, thinking of everything that I had to leave behind. I know this was the best decision for my family, but I do hold a slight resentment towards being here. “Don’t get me wrong, Sydney’s great and all, but I miss my friends, my house, my pets, I even miss the shitty pub from down the street.”

“Thank you Y/N, I feel like we’ve got to know you a little bit more now, so feel free to take a seat and we’ll get started.”

The only open seat is next to the girl that Jojo called Amerie. Smiling as I take my place, I open my notebook and begin to doodle swirls and other patterns across the page. Focusing on that rather than the subject being taught. It’s some form of sex education by the sounds of it. However, it seems very outdated and heteronormative. Nothing worth listening to anyway.

Upon hearing the bell ring, I begin to pack away my things and watch as a few students mutter things towards Amerie. “Map bitch.” “Cunt.” and “Crazy bitch.” Just to name a few. I realise that may be the reason she had nobody sat next to her and figure it may be best to avoid her if I want to stay under everybody’s radar.

Finding my locker, I begin to turn the lock with great difficulty. Back home, the numbers simply connect and the door clicks open, that doesn’t seem to be the case here though. Fiddling with the dial, I hear the bell signal the beginning of the next class and I huff, annoyed that I’m having this much trouble with a stupid locker.

As the hallways clears out, I continue to twist and pull at the lock. Bag dumped on the floor as I try with all my strength to pry the door open. With no such luck, I throw a quick kick to the locker beneath mine, leaving a dent in the door slightly. Slumping with my back again the metal, I find myself face to face with the boy in the baggy outfit.

Not previously noticing how cute he was, dark hair hidden beneath a beanie, a couple of curls escaping. Boyish grin plastered across his face and piercing brown eyes staring directly at me. I won’t even try to deny that Australia has one up on the Uk in terms of boys, they’re just so much cuter over here.

“What did the locker do to you?” He jokes, taking the slip of paper with the locker code out of my hand.

“Bloody thing won’t open.” I mumble, stepping out of the way as he demonstrates how to open it with ease. My cheeks tinged pink as I fear my outburst may have been unnecessary.

“I thought you Brits were supposed to be good at containing your emotions anyway.” He leans against the locker beside mine, watching me as I stuff countless books into the small space. Normally this would make me uncomfortable, yet there’s there’s something about him that makes me feel warm and calm.

“Nah we love our fair share of violence.” I tell him, smiling as I do so, remembering the amount of fights that used to take place on my estate daily. Providing free entertainment for all the neighbours. “We’re polite, but piss us off and we’ll knock you into next week.”

He laughs, folding his arms across his chest as I close the locker door. His eyes gaze over me as I turn to face him properly. Noticing the small cross necklace hanging from his neck, I can’t help but imagine what it would look like against his bare skin.

“You religious?” I ask, nodding towards the chain.

“Nah, I’m Ant.” He brushes off my question and tucks the necklace beneath his shirt. Clearly a touchy subject that perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up. So instead I attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ant?” The word escapes my mouth as a slight giggle, unable to hide the amusement his name brings. “And your mate’s called Spider?”

“Yeah, stupid right?” He chuckles, playing with the straps of his bag. Almost as if he’s nervous. “We’ve been best mates our entire lives. My real name’s Anthony but nobody calls me that. Same with Spider, his name’s Spencer. Kids started to call us Ant and Spider when we were like six, guess it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.”

Picking up my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Figuring I should probably head to my next class despite being extremely late already.

“Hey, about Spider.” Ant reaches for my arm, clearly sensing that I’m about to leave. “I just wanted to apologise, he can be a bit of a dick but he’s a nice guy deep down.”

My arm tingles where he’s touching it, feeling the slightest of move of his fingers. As though my nerves are on fire. Suddenly hypersensitive to any little movement he makes. I know I shouldn’t be feeling things this intensely, hell, I’ve just met the guy. Yet he sparks an excitement in me that I haven’t felt in a while.

“Honestly it’s sound. You don’t need to apologise.” I assure him, offering a smile, I see his shoulders relax. “I can handle a prick like him any day.”

“Yeah you certainly shot him down quick.”

As he removes his hand from my arm, I’m quick to begin walking away. Cheesy grin on my face as I recall the interaction in my head despite it only happening seconds ago. I feel dizzy with excitement, my feet feel like they’re walking on clouds and I almost miss the shout from behind me as I go to turn the corner.

“Hey, do you wanna get high?”