#gremlin hours in full swing

[inkedtension]

Toji doesn’t say I love you. He says You done being annoying now? when you kiss him five times in a row, while lifting you up so you can do it better. He says Tch, move over, before tucking your legs over his lap. He says Don’t touch the tab, I got it even when you know he’s down to his last few yen.

You say I love you enough for both of you, anyway.

You notice the money problem before he says anything.

He never lets you pay for anything flashy—Toji’s too proud for that. But the way he gets quiet in front of vending machines, the way he turns down takeout even when your shared fridge is empty, the fact that he pawned his things—except his sunglasses (the ones you once said made him look hot)—it’s all proof.

You corner him one day, arms folded, hair messy from sleep and irritation.

“You’re broke.”

His eyes flick over to you from the couch. Shirtless. Legs spread. That unfairly sexy slouch he lives in.

“‘M not broke,” he mutters, mouth full of toothpick. “I’m just not wasting yen on overpriced pork broth.”

“Baby, you used to bathe in pork broth,” you say, stepping between his knees. “What happened, huh? Job fall through?”

He shrugs. His hands land on your hips automatically.

You soften, just a little. "Y’know I’ll cover it, right?"

He scowls. “Tch. Not your job to baby me.”

“Why not? You baby me all the time,” you smirk, dipping low to brush your nose against his. “You carried me all the way back from that warehouse in Kabukicho when I sprained my ankle and still stopped to buy me dumplings, remember?”

“…You cried, brat.” he mutters.

“So? You kissed my bruises, tough guy.”

He grunts but doesn’t argue. You win. He’s taking you on a ramen date tonight.

It’s almost midnight when you end up at your favorite hole-in-the-wall place in Shinjuku, wedged between a pachinko parlor and a 24-hour karaoke bar.

He scowls at your wallet when you slide it out.

"Don’t."

"Do you want to eat or do you want to stand outside glaring at the menu like it insulted your mother?"

You say it sweetly.

Toji just mutters something about “brats” and shoves his hands in his pockets. But you know he doesn’t mean it. Not when he pulls out your chair before slumping into his own. Not when he picks the garlic shoyu ramen because he remembers you like it. Not when his knee brushes yours under the tiny wooden table.

He eats like he’s starving. You slurp your noodles slowly, watching the steam curl against the night air outside the window.

Shinjuku’s neon glow spills across his jaw. You’re already thinking about kissing it.

"You're staring again," he mutters, not looking up.

You smile. "You're hot when you're broke."

You’re already two bites in when you groan dramatically and slump against Toji’s shoulder. “Ugh. I love you. And I love soup.”

He snorts. “Shoulda told the soup that instead of me.”

“Don’t be jealous of my other boyfriend,” you grin, licking broth off your chopsticks. “He’s hot, steamy, rich—”

Toji grabs your face with one big hand, coming from your other shoulder and smushes it. “You’re lucky I like you even when you’re being a little gremlin.”

You flash him a peace sign with your fingers, still trapped in his grip. “You love it. Admit it.”

He doesn’t respond, but his thumb brushes your cheek as he lets go.

You lean into his side again, warm, full, buzzed off salt and affection. Your legs swing a little under the counter seat.

Later, as you’re leaving, belly full and shoulders bumping with his, you spot them across the street.

A dad and his little girl.

She’s giggling, perched on his shoulders with her hands buried in his hair like it’s reins. He swings her legs a little as he walks. She squeals when he twirls.

It’s such a normal scene. So soft. So… unreachable, in your past.

You laugh.

Toji turns.

“What?”

“Nothing,” you say, brushing it off. “That just looks fun.”

He doesn’t say anything.

But you feel the shift in his chest beside you, he turns back to take a proper look and is back at your side as you start kicking rocks.

You fall asleep in his bed with his arm around your waist, his breath against your neck, and your leg flung over his thick thigh like it’s your rightful place.

You dream of floating.

You’re lounging on his couch, one sock on, one sock missing, hair a mess, scrolling on your phone and harassing him just by existing in his space like a warm, annoying kitten.

"Babyyy" you call. "I want attention."

"You've had attention since you woke up."

"You ignored me in the shower."

"I carried you into the shower."

"And then ignored me."

“You wanna go out?”

You blink. “Huh?”

“Get dressed. Wear shorts.”

You squint.

When you're out, he first streches like he slept for thirteen days straight, then looks at you, who just looks at him.

Your face said one thing: Where you taking me you broke anyway.

He crouches right in front of you, turns his back towards you.

“C’mere.”

You laugh. “Toji, wh—”

You’re still in shock two minutes later when he jerks his chin to the side to look at you over his shoulder.

“C’mon.”

“Toji—what the fuck—”

“Shut up. You said it looked fun.”

You slide onto his shoulders with clumsy amusement, thighs hugging either side of his head. His hands hook behind your knees.

Your laugh bubbles up before you can stop it. “You serious? Baby, I’m not five—”

He straightens to full height. You yelp. The street below you looks distant. His neck flexes under your hands.

“Yeah, and I’m not a damn jungle gym,” he snaps, but his grip doesn’t loosen. “But if you wanna be a brat about it, I’ll just run. See how long you last.”

Despite saying that, he first steadies himself, then starts walking slowly.

His massive hands slide up under your thighs, pulling you flush against his neck, legs dangling. It’s a little awkward. Wobbly.

You squeal, grabbing for his head.

"You're carrying me like a child?"

His grip’s adjusting, your balance is off. You’re squeezing his temples with your thighs while laughing hysterically.

“Baby—you’re gonna drop me!”

“You’re gripping my skull like a damn vice—stop kicking.”

“Why are you WALKING like that—?”

“It’s your fault for squirming.”

He moves like he’s stalking prey. Broad shoulders rolling under you, slow and dramatic, drawing attention. A little boy on the corner gasps. A teenager points. A middle-aged woman stares with horror.

You feel ten feet tall.

Actually… eleven.

Toji huffs. “You’re lucky I didn’t make you carry me.”

“I would, if I could,” you say between giggles. “You’re like three of your cheap fridges stacked on top of each other.”

He shrugs.

Toji keeps walking. Through alleys, past convenience stores, under blinking signs. The city stretches below you in all directions.

He even stops by to buy something from a store nearby the road while you made contact with the cats on the roof, petting them when they flinch, when he reaches up a un-wrapped lolipop for you.

"You're insane" you murmur, taking it from his hand, dazed from height and heat and adrenaline.

He adjusts your leg, starts walking back home.

"You liked it. Yesterday. When you saw that guy with his kid."

You go quiet.

"I just thought… maybe no one ever carried you like that. Not for fun."

The streetlights hit him just right. You stare down at his head, at his hair, at this ridiculous, massive, absurd man who pretends like he doesn't care.

Your throat tightens.

“You’re a sap” you say softly, voice cracking.

“And you’re heavy.”

You laugh through your tears and kick his chest. “Asshole.”

“Brat.”

He doesn’t stop walking.

Back at home, you collapse onto the futon, dead weight, a moaning noodle of a girl.

“Dead” you whimper. “You’re dead. Carrying me killed you. You’re a ghost now.”

He looms over you, pulling his shirt off with one hand from behind his neck.

“Nah. You’re the one who’s gonna be dead if you keep talkin’, brat.” he says with that grin that always ruins you.

You tug him down by the waistband.

“I’m always talkin’, baby,” you say. “Still love me?”

He kisses your jaw, then your throat, then down to your collarbone.

“Always.”

[wingedhallows]

— PRIDE AND SELF-SABOTAGING —

♡ CHAPTER ONE ♡ — ₊˚⊹♡ PAIRING ; 1.5k words vi!basketball jockey x reader!ballerina — ₊˚⊹♡ SYNOPSIS There was something there—something unspoken, something undeniable. But in one careless moment, it all fell apart. Words were said, pride got in the way, and now she’s left with nothing but regret. She wants to fix it. She has to. Now, Vi is determined to fix what she broke. She’ll do anything—everything—to prove she didn’t mean it. But pride is a stubborn thing, and second chances don’t come easy. Can she turn the tide before it’s too late? Or has she already lost what she never had the courage to claim?

♡ navigation ♡

¸.*☆*.¸ CHAPTER INDEX ¸.*☆*.¸

— ₊˚⊹♡ TAG, YOU'RE IT

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It’s nearly eight by the time you finally trudge into your dorm, limbs aching and feet screaming in protest. Ballet practice had dragged on forever, each repetition chipping away at your already dwindling energy. You barely have the strength to drop your gym bag by the door, let alone deal with anything else. Your bed is still a tangled mess from this morning—an inviting sight, whispering promises of rest.

The door swings open behind you before you even have a chance to collapse.

“There you are! I have the dress you’ve been eyeing.”

Margot’s voice is as bright as ever, cutting through your exhaustion like a knife. You let out a long sigh, already cursing your past self for ever agreeing to that damn frat party. The idea of squeezing into some overpriced, barely-there dress and subjecting yourself to a room full of sweaty, drunken people sounds about as appealing as running another hour of drills. Your unmade bed is calling your name, and yet—

“Don’t give me that face. You promised.” Margot flops onto your bed with a smug grin, completely unbothered by the mess. She places the sleek black dress beside your gym bag, fingers smoothing over the fabric like it’s some kind of sacred offering.

“Shut it.” You mutter, grabbing the dress with wary fingers, holding it up as if it might bite. Your brows knit together. “Why is it so damn short?”

Margot gasps, placing a hand over her heart like you’ve mortally offended her. “My love, my light—just put the damn dress on.” Her voice drips with amusement, and for a brief moment, you consider using the dress to strangle her.

Instead, you exhale through your nose, shaking your head. “Let me take a shower first, you gremlin.” With a sigh, you toss the dress back onto the bed and grab a fresh set of underwear.

Margot waves a dismissive hand. “Fine, fine. I’ll just watch Love Island in the meantime.”

You roll your eyes but can’t help the small smirk that tugs at your lips. With that, you disappear into the bathroom, already savoring the thought of hot water washing away the exhaustion of the day.

Something tells you you’re going to need it—because whatever’s waiting for you at that party? It’s bound to be a disaster.

By the time you, Margot, and Flint arrive at the party, the night air has turned bitterly cold. The kind of cold that bites at your exposed skin and makes you question every life choice that led you here—especially the one where you let Margot convince you that a jacket was “so unnecessary.”

The house is alive with noise and movement. Music booms from inside, rattling the walls, and the wide-open door spills golden light onto the porch, where groups of people linger, red solo cups in hand, laughter and cigarette smoke curling into the night. You hesitate for a fraction of a second, seriously considering turning around and walking right back to the warmth of your dorm. But Margot’s grip on your wrist is vice-like, and you swear she’d dislocate your shoulder before letting you escape.

“I can already taste the cider,” Flint grins, brushing a strand of auburn hair from his face as he strides ahead, leading the three of you inside.

Margot wasn’t lying about the temperature—it’s suffocatingly hot. The air is thick with body heat, cheap cologne, and the unmistakable scent of spiked punch. The house itself is barebones, exactly what you’d expect from the basketball team’s party pad: a battered leather couch shoved against the back wall, a TV teetering precariously on an ancient stand, and an assortment of mismatched furniture that looks like it was either stolen or salvaged from the side of the road.

Margot wastes no time pulling you through the crowd, her greetings blending into the music as she waves at nearly everyone she passes. Flint does the same, flashing grins and tossing casual nods like he’s in his element. You, on the other hand, are starting to wonder just how much time these two spend with the basketball team.

Before you can even think about hunting down a drink—some liquid courage to make this night bearable—a muscular arm snakes around your shoulders. The scent of sharp cologne hits you before you even see her.

Abby.

“There’s my favorite ballerina,” she says, her voice rich with amusement as she presses a cold bottle of beer into your hand.

You offer a small smile, taking it without protest. You know how this goes—she’ll remember in about twenty minutes that you don’t actually like beer and take it back, but for now, it’s easier to just hold it.

“Come on, you gotta meet some people.” Abby doesn’t wait for a response before tugging you along, effortlessly sweeping Margot and Flint into her orbit as well.

She leads you toward the couch, where familiar faces come into view. Ellie—a close friend of Abby’s, someone you get along with well enough. Ekko—a mutual acquaintance, though the specifics blur in your mind. But then—

Your breath catches for just a second.

She’s there.

Perched on the couch like she owns the place, her signature confidence practically radiating from her posture. Legs spread wide, a silent declaration of presence, of dominance—like she has something to prove.

Violet.

Your throat tightens as Abby practically shoves you into an armchair, directly across from Vi. The room feels stifling now, thick with the scent of alcohol and weed, the air buzzing with laughter and conversation, but all of it fades into the background the moment Abby starts her introductions.

She gestures around with that smug grin of hers, name-dropping people you already know—Ellie, Dina—but then, with a teasing glint in her eye, she nods toward her.

“And that’s the star of the show, Violet, but don’t call her that.”

Your stomach clenches as your gaze flickers to Vi, and—oh.

She’s looking at you. Not just looking, devouring.

Lidded eyes, heavy from booze and whatever else is floating through this party, trace over you like she’s committing you to memory. And when her tongue flicks out to drag slowly across her lower lip, your breath stutters. Your pulse is a traitor, hammering wildly in your chest.

And Vi? Vi is trying so damn hard to play it cool.

Relax. Don’t be weird. Just—act normal.

She rakes a hand through her short pink hair, willing her heart to calm the fuck down, but—gods, you’re so fucking pretty.

“Nice to meet you,” Vi says, her voice low and smooth, the kind of rich, golden tone that makes something in your stomach twist.

Shit.

“Likewise.” Your own voice comes out softer than you’d like, barely above a breath. You internally curse yourself for sounding so meek.

A lazy grin pulls at Vi’s lips, and she looks away just long enough to take a slow sip from her cup—like she’s giving you a moment to catch your breath, like she knows exactly what she’s doing to you. And goddamn, does she.

"A pretty bird, mh?” Abby grins, her voice lilting with amusement, and your fingers tighten around the bottle in your hand. Suddenly, beer doesn’t seem so bad. You take a sip, hoping the alcohol will dull the way your heart is slamming against your ribs.

Vi lets out a low chuckle, slow and deliberate, and nods. “Pretty indeed.”

You swear you might combust on the spot.

“Interested?” Abby nudges Vi, her grin widening.

Vi scoffs, but her heart lurches violently in her chest. Fuck Abby. Fuck her teasing. And fuck the way you’re looking at her right now—like you’re actually waiting for her response, like the answer matters.

Her pride flares up. Her stupid, self-sabotaging brain jumps in before she can stop it. And before she can even think—

“Nope. Not my type.”

The words slip out, sharp and cold. The moment they leave her mouth, panic slams into her like a freight train.

What the fuck did she just say?

Your stomach drops. The sharp sting of humiliation settles deep in your chest, twisting tight like a blade.

She said it so easily. So carelessly. Like you weren’t sitting right there.

Vi swallows hard, but it’s too late to take it back. The damage is done.

And then she sees it—sees the way your eyes flicker away from hers, the way your fingers clench around the neck of the bottle like you’re grounding yourself against the sting.

Fuck.

She fucked up.

And judging by the way your expression hardens ever so slightly, the way you shut yourself off in an instant—Vi knows she might not get another chance to fix it.

The conversation grinds to a halt, the weight of Vi’s words settling over you like a lead blanket. Your stomach twists, heat creeping up your neck, burning with the kind of humiliation that makes your skin feel too tight. You force down another sip of beer, but it does nothing to drown out the sting, the way the rejection rings in your ears, sharp and merciless.

You flick your gaze to Margot—please. A silent, desperate plea to leave, to run, to just get the fuck out of here before the lump in your throat gives you away.

Fuck Abby. Fuck this party. And most of all—fuck Vi.

*ੈ✩‧₊˚ TAGLIST *ੈ✩‧₊˚

( @foralltheprettygirls ; @sawaagyapong ; @jivimatcha ; @majuia ; @uhmidkmuch ; @savedforlaterr ; @baylegend6 ; @elle-girlylesbian @dazevi )

[sister-of-hitoshi]

Bnha main three x turned to child reader

Scenarios with just fluff!

Midoriya Izuku

It was a quaint, idle afternoon, although Midoriya Izuku was as busy as ever.

Being the former no.1 hero's protégé, being the weilder of One for All, being a dutiful student of the most prestigious academy of Japan, being a good son, being a supportive friend, a wonderful partner, a-

Good babysitter?

Yes there was a lot to be, but being a babysitter was really asking too much of him.

Our pure, sweet and innocent boy might be good with kids in general, but he was not made to handle little gremlins with short fuses.

But alas, to be the future no.1 hero of the country, you should be ready to face each and every challenge thrown at you.

Or that's what he kept telling himself.

Because right now, a little gremlin had been pulling at his curls for god knows how long.

And this little gremlin was his adorable s/o...

It all started when he had comeback to his room being left in shambles with a little toddler claiming their throne at it's centre.

"U-ummm"

"W-W-Whoooo a-are youuu??!!"

What is an adorable kid doing in his room? How are they even in his room? Isn't UA supposed to have top-tier security? Why is-

"I'M Y/N!!"

This was enough for his instincts to take over his next movements as he immediately picked you up and full-cowled to Aizawa sensei.

Recovery girl was informed, and following her deductions, he got to know about the duration of three days.

Without further ado, and due to all the qualities mentioned in point number 2, Aizawa immediately put him in charge of his companion.

Which brings us back to the present.

The present where you were running around the common school yard with him chasing after you- because at some point during his conversation with his teachers you had become tired of his curls and had jumped down from his back, ordering requesting him to run and catch you.

The first few minutes he was only trying to humour you to see that adorable grin that you sported.

But this soon wasn't the case anymore since he was now being bested by a literal toddler in terms of running for two hours straight.

This activity was followed by you doing his hair and him doing yours in your room, since his was left in shambles and you wouldn't let him go.

To say you were hyper was an understatement-

And you hadn't even unleashed half of your potential!

At some point, the perplexity of his own precarious situation got to him, leading him to call his mom asking for tips.

Following which he had you strapped on his chest everytime he was busy doing something, he couldn't have you tiring yourself afterall (he didn't have it in him to run after you anymore)

It was pretty alright after your initial tantrums and pulling on his hair, asking to be let down.

You were a somewhat of cuddle bug for him- you slapped everyone's hands away when they tried to touch you, and only permitted him for doing so (he is still very proud of you for doing that).

Want to be entertained? You can swing using his black whips, float around the room with him, the options were endless!- So of course you did everything on the list because why not.

All in all he was a good servant caretaker, you never once cried when he was around and he could keep up with your royal decrees shenanigans.

Of course you would never know that he fantasized about you in his almight onesies

"...Is this the candy that you wanted, Y/N?"

"YEs"

You were pretty pleased with your devoted follower, so being a good ruler, you decided it was best to promise your loyal subject a deserving reward.

"Uh- they said that they've run out of stock for that juice Y/N-san so-"

You interrupted him by giving him a sweet peck on the cheek, as a reward of course-

"Mr. Izukw! I'm gonna marry yu in the fwuture!"

"..umM..."

.......

....

"...- so the kis- I MEAN THE CANDY- NO JUICE-JUICE-"

You child form wasn't enough to keep him from blushing till his ear tips.

He pulled on his bangs to keep you from seeing his red face.

"Umm...m-me too"

For Katsuki Bakugo: Here

For Shouto Todoroki: Here

[genshingorlsrevengeance]

This moving arc is going crazy ngl. This season is really peak, JJK could never

I know you didn't even mean for this to be an ask but:

(Genshin Impact/GFL) How helpful Lisa, Eula, Noelle, Navia, Furina, Lumine, AK-12, AN-94, AK-15, and RPK-16 would be during your move

After fighting boxes and moving trucks for the last 6 straight days, this has been on my mind.

(Lisa) "Oof, these boxes are going to kill my back tomorrow...!"

Lisa has experience carrying heavy books from her days studying in Sumeru and being a Librarian in Mondstadt.

But do you really think this beautiful woman is going to help you carry the seventeen boxes of glass kitchenware that you have no recollection of even owning?

Absolutely not.

That is too heavy, even for her.

But at the very least when the moving and unpacking is over, she will give and demand the very best cuddles to recover from the process.

Expect her to say that she was sore with helping you last night in an intentionally weird way to get a rise out of you and anyone in the vicinity.

Help Rating: 2/5, Call Lisa in for the love, not for physical labor.

(Eula) "Good grief, how much dust is in here?!" ACHOO! "Ugh...! If this was some elaborate scheme just to hear me sneeze the entire time, I will enact terrible vengeance upon you!"

Quips of revenge aside, she is actually very helpful!

Eula can carry the boxes no problem, and makes sure to have the proper posture when doing so.

If she can swing her claymore around like they're nothing, then surely your belongings will be jut as trivial?

She is also extremely gentle putting down boxes that she knows is full of your stuff.

The only real negative thing you have to deal with is just her constant muttering if a box is giving her too much trouble.

Help Rating: 3/5, You now swear vengeance upon the boxes thanks to Eula saying it over and over

(Noelle) "Please, allow me! I can have these put away in no time!"

The boxes will be hearing boss music upon Noelle's arrival.

For when there is a mess, Noelle is inevitable.

She somehow packs everything into the boxes into such an impossibly efficient manner, that you didn't know you could fit that much stuff into a small cardboard box.

Noelle also does it under a few hours without breaking a sweat.

The scary part is that she can go faster while keeping the same immaculate level of care if you give her a kiss on the cheek or praise her.

And it'll mean even more to her by the fact you're still helping her. It's the thought that counts!

Help Rating: You don't even need to be there/5

(Navia) "Here, just tell me where these boxes are going in your new home. Packing? Hm, no need!"

You know what she does instead of packing herself?

She hires someone else to do it.

When it comes to more personal items, she'll gladly help you wrap it carefully and with love.

But all your furniture?

Yeah, no. That's what the hired help is for.

You and Navia will be directing people left and right where to place the furniture and boxes of your belongings without really needing to lift a finger yourself.

Help Rating: 5/5, the best help is the kind where someone else does the entire job for you.

(Furina) "Oh, it is about time you come to me for aid, dearest! Allow me to help!"

In the wise words of Sergeant Johnson:

"Hmph, MY ASS!"

This woman didn't even unload her boxes when she moved into her apartment, what makes you think that she'd help you unload your stuff properly?

She may be an Archon but her arm strength and experience with moving is next to nothing.

Furina will act all cool and try to lift a box only for it to nearly collapse on her, or throw her out her back.

Her little familiars can't help with your boxes since you know, they're made of water.

But at least the pouting face she'll make will be cute. Kinda like Aqua, huh?

Help Rating: Just get Clorinde or Neuvillette, don't ask the blue gremlin/5

(Lumine) "We really need to get you a teapot! Anyways, let's get to work!"

Lumine doesn't mind to help, and her arm strength despite her appearance is insane.

She'll be carrying 3-4 boxes like it's nothing, though she struggles to actually see anything in front of her.

Paimon helps as much as she can, so you get a 2 for 1 deal asking Lumine!

She's a little unused to moving furniture herself since Tubby and the Teapot took care of that for her own home, but she makes moving very fun!

Help Rating: 5+1/5, but Lumine will question your taste in decor.

(AK-12) "Ah, moving dorms? Well, at least it's within the base and not too far.~"

Even though 12 is a combat android, she can only lift so much.

She might complain about the servos in her arms going haywire and that you'll need to fix them, but in reality she's just teasing just to get a rise out of you.

And despite her eyes being closed, she has better sense of her surroundings than you do, not once bumping into anything or hitting the doorframes.

Once its finished, 12 will just say that you 'owe her one' for helping with the move.

Help Rating: 3/5, it'd be higher but she's too damn smug about lifting more than you.

(AN-94) "Moving assignment understood. Providing assistance."

94 is a little stiff about the moving process at first.

But as it progresses, she uncharacteristically gets distracted by the items you choose to keep and throw away.

She'll ask with a curious expression about why you're throwing away old but usable items, and 94 ends up learning a lot about you.

While the move itself is very normal, it ends up being a nice bonding experience for the two of you!

Help Rating: 4/5, very sweet

(AK-15) "This weight is trivial. Please, stand aside for a moment."

15 is an absolute monster when it comes to the physical labor.

She will stack the heaviest boxes into one pile and carry it without even moving her hair.

15 helpfully moves any of the things you'd struggle with, all the while her expression doesn't really change.

She'd question why you'd thank her for simply doing her job, but it's something she'll appreciate with the slightest blush.

Help Rating: 5/5, she can probably lift you, me, and the boxes in one hand.

(RPK-16) "Hm...I wonder if humanity were to go extinct right now, what would the new race think of finding your belongings?...Hah, your face! Don't mind me, just thinking aloud.~"

16 is not really that strong, but since she's an android, boxes aren't too bad of a gig for her.

After all, she lugs around an LMG.

Regardless, she helps you pack but be prepared to answer a LOT of questions on why you own the items you do.

Both out of genuine curiosity, and to annoy the shit out of you.

But hey, you'll at least get through the moving somewhat quickly thanks to her.

Help Rating: 3/5, Thanks to her, there's now a lot of weird cryptic questions floating through your mind. Such as if the bug that finds its way into the box knows that it had walked into its tomb?

[blood-red-ocean]

can I request Mother Miranda next? i have this silly idea where MM's crow(s) has a habit of stashing all kind of shiny things near reader's house. Maybe she has a small porch that's not been used cause reader doesn't have time lounging around, and the sneaky crow is, like, yeah, this is perfect, and so reader goes about her life non the wiser to crow's shenanigans behind her back until one day she hears some sound outside and goes to investigate which ends with her stumbling upon MM rummaging through pile of... something. Awkward silence.

I don't know why I saw reader's house and immediately went 'ah yes, they live with Miranda' but ANYWAY enjoy <3

Small Thief (RL!Miranda x Reader)

Word count: 1.9k Warnings: None Summary: Cornelius is a sneaky lil gremlin.

------------------------------------------------------------------

“Babe? Have you seen my keys?”

Overturned couch cushions and the contents of upturned cabinet drawers laid in the wake of your frantic rummaging. The very thought of having lost a set of keys to the headmistress’s house scared you enough, but it would be even worse if you had not simply misplaced them and had dropped them somewhere on the Campus. Especially with Mia’s habit of being an absolute gremlin and showing up unexpectedly in places she wasn’t supposed to be.

“Hmm?” Miranda strode into the room, hand fiddling with the button on the other wrist of her shirt.

“My keys, babe, my keys. I need them.”

You knew what was coming immediately. You knew it so well that you could almost quote her word for word. “Now, what did I tell you about carelessly tossing your keys down, little crow?” She and you both knew that if she had spoken those words to anybody else, it would have seen as harsh chastising. But you knew her better than that, and you could easily pick up on the way her mouth quirked up at the corners. The Miranda version of a playful grin.

“Forget about your keys, darling mine,” She said, striding over to you to kiss your cheek. “I will be awake when you return, I’ll let you in.”

“Andy, you know I’ve got class till late tonight.” Miranda smiled a little more visibly at the nickname you had picked for her – Devil Wears Prada had quickly become her favourite movie to watch with you, and she didn’t hide her blush fast enough when you called her it playfully for the first time while playfully testing out different variations of her name. Mir, Mira, Andy… “Professor Dimitrescu is making us recreate a classical piece in our own style.”

“That’s… Out of character.” Miranda frowned a little. “Very well then. I’ll still let you in.”

“But—”

“I’ll be awake.” Miranda gave you a pointed look, and it hit you then. Of course she would be awake – without you around to help with the growing pile of student council paperwork, full of requests and grievances that were above even Bela’s station, she would no doubt spend considerable time poring over them, with Cornelius on her shoulder. She often turned to work when you weren’t around.

“Okay, fine,” You said. You reached up and caressed her cheek, a playful smirk growing on your face. “Just don’t drool on the papers when you fall asleep this time, okay?” This earned you a tut from Miranda.

Hours later, and back aching from spending hours at an easel, you trudged into Miranda’s – you and Miranda’s – house, dropping your bag at your feet. You leaned back against the door and groaned, rolling your shoulders slowly to relieve some of the tension. The smell of pizza wafted down the hallway and into your nostrils, stomach growling angrily. “Oh, fuck yes,” you breathed, following the scent like a cartoon character. There, on the kitchen counter, laid an open box of your favourite pizza, and a note beside it which stated, in Miranda’s elegant cursive, “I am in my office. Come find me when you have eaten, little crow.”

Pizza slice in hand, you navigated the house, making your way to her study. The door was propped slightly open, and a gentle push on it made it swing forward, revealing Miranda bent over her home desk as she pored over some paperwork.

“Pizza?” You asked, holding a piece out.

Miranda crinkled her nose a little and shook her head. “Not tonight, Feather. I don’t think I have the stomach for it right now.” She tapped her fingers on the top of the desk as she sat back, peering at you with concern. “Are you alright? You seem exhausted.”

“Because I am,” You mumbled around a mouthful of cheese, sauce and dough. “Dimitrescu made me restart my piece three times. Three times! All because I mixed the pigment slightly wrong.” Miranda kept tapping her fingers one by one, the familiar sound almost mesmerizing you – almost.

Click, click, thud, click. Click, click, thud, click.

One of her golden finger guards was missing, the soft thud of her bare finger hitting the wooden surface jarring against the clicking you were used to. “Hey,” You spoke up, frowning. “Where’s your guard?”

Miranda shifted uncomfortably, hesitating. “I have no idea,” She eventually admitted. “I removed all of them earlier to take a bath, and when I turned back, one was missing.”

“Ah, so the great Miranda doesn’t have eyes in the back of her head after all.” Miranda shot you a playful glare, affection vaguely hidden beneath. “I’m sure it’ll show up somewhere.”

“It is rather… Concerning, that things keep going missing around here. I’m not usually this… Disorganized.”

“You aren’t disorganized at all,” You reassured her, licking the grease from your fingers. “Maybe we have a ghost.”

Miranda rolled her eyes lightheartedly at that, returning to her work. You grabbed your books and papers, settling in on the couch opposite her desk to study. Yeah, you were exhausted, but you still had other classes to study for, and not even being romantically bound to the headmistress would give you endless exceptions when it came to your studies.

***

Weeks passed, hours and hours of late classes beginning to make you feel burned out. You spent the days counting down to when it was finally done and you could spend your time with Miranda again – and quicker than you thought, it was over. You left Professor Dimitrescu’s class with a heavy wooden frame in hand, a begrudging A+ grade, and a sense of smug accomplishment. You couldn’t wait to get home and tell Miranda all about how Alcina had squirmed, heaving sighs and muttering as she scribbled an A+ onto the piece of paper before her.

Upon arriving at home, however, Miranda was nowhere to be found. Propping the frame up against the wall, you dug your phone from your pocket and checked it – no texts, no missed calls. Venturing deeper into the house, you peered into Miranda’s study to see it empty and dark. Brow furrowed, you ventured even further into the house. It was unlike Miranda to not tell you where she was – or rather, command that you go and be at her side.

“Andy?” You called out. You peered into darkened rooms, intrigue growing as you saw parts of the house you hadn’t seen before. Between the rush of moving you in with her, and exam season, and Alcina’s late classes, you had barely had time to spend sitting quietly with your avian goddess, let alone explore the depths of the house.

Just as you were about to give up and try and call Miranda, a crashing sound came from the very back of the house. Pulse rushing in your ears, you immediately jumped to alertness, searching for something to wield as a makeshift weapon. Eventually settling on a discarded iron poker, you held it aloft as you took slow steps towards the crashing sounds. You eventually came upon a glass door, a faint glow emanating from behind it. With one hand on the doorknob, you took a deep breath and threw the door open, roaring.

“RAAAAAAARGH—Andy??”

Once the frantic flurrying of wings and dark feathers and Miranda’s cursing had died down, you could get a proper look at the small room you had entered. It was covered in screens rather than windows, and it took you a moment to realise it was a porch.

A porch filled with heaping miles of miscellanea, remarkably less organized than the rest of the house. Miranda stood in the midst of it all, her face flushed and scowling… At Cornelius. Eyebrows raised, you glanced between the two of them, taking a step back. Cornelius let out a rather loud, indignant caw, wings lifted at Miranda.

“You! She hissed, pointing her finger accusingly. “I knew it!”

A glint in the corner of your vision caught your eye, and at a single glance you heaved with relief.

“My keys,” You breathed. “Thank the gods—” You reached out to pick them up, and the fluttering of wings signaled Cornelius’s arrival. He stood with one foot on them, staring up at you with one burning yellow eye. It hit you then that this wasn’t some secret that Miranda kept, some uncharacteristic habit – no, Cornelius had been periodically stealing more and more items over the weeks, stashing him where he thought nobody would find them. You reached out again to try and take the keys, but he just cawed softly at you, clicking his beak.

“Hey, what—”

“You have to give him something else,” Miranda grumbled, sifting through the heaps of shiny objects. “I learned that the hard way.” She tapped her earlobe, and you noticed that one of her dangly gold earrings was missing, no doubt wherever Cornelius had stashed it again. On her finger was the golden finger guard, back where it belonged.

“Well, I don’t have anything shiny,” You spoke to the small thief. “But… You want my A+?” You held out the piece of paper with the grade and Alcina’s comments on it, and Cornelius studied it for a moment. With a quick chirp, he grabbed it from your hand and flew off to the back corner of the porch, no doubt to stash it somewhere safe. Miranda watched him with her mouth agape and threw her hands up in exasperation, calling after him, “Seriously? I feed you! I raised you from a baby! And they can give you paper?” Miranda took a breath as if to continue, then stopped, turning to you with raised eyebrows. “Did you say A+?”

Grinning, you nodded quickly. “Yep! Can we get pizza to celebrate?”

“Again, Feather? Aren’t you tired of it yet? I could order you something much nicer—”

“Nope, pizza,” You called out, moving back into the hallway of the house. Miranda followed you, pride in her eyes.

“Very well, then,” She sighed in mock exasperation. “But first, show me your work.”

There was a skip in your step as you led Miranda by the hand back to the entryway, where you had placed the painting. You held it up to her and watched as her eyes conveyed her emotions – surprise, awe, pride and then, as she gazed back up at you, love. “It’s beautiful,” She murmured. “We must display it at once.”

You followed her as she went to the kitchen, opening a cabinet and pulling out a small golden hook, and a nail. She hummed as she roamed the house, trying to figure out where the hang your artwork, and you blushed about it. Eventually, she settled for hanging it above her desk in her study, this simple gesture making your heart skip a beat, reminding you again her how she loved and prioritized you. She reached up, preparing to nail the hook into the wall, when a dark blur rushed by and left her hands empty. She growled a little under her breath and chased after it, leaving you in fits of giggling as she went.

“Cornelius! Get back here with that!”

To nobody’s surprise (but to Miranda’s chagrin), it only took the promise of some head scratches from you to get the hook back from the small thief. You could’ve sworn he gave an approving caw at the sight of your painting, as well.

[bookwormlatte]

Totally didn't write this in school :p

(GRADE 11 sucks)

Magna Swing Period Headcanons:

• Overreacts Dramatically at First:

The moment his girlfriend mentions she’s on her period, Magna goes full “OH NO, ARE YOU DYING?!” mode before realizing it’s just a normal thing. Then he acts like it’s his sworn duty as a delinquent boyfriend to protect her from all discomfort.

• Heat Pack Hero:

He shows up with like five heat packs because he doesn't know which one works best. One shaped like a cat, one that's electric, and one that he insists he “enchanted with fire magic” (he just warmed it with a spell).

• Snack Stockpile Commander:

He raids every store in town looking for her favorite snacks—chocolate, chips, sweet drinks, whatever. He returns with three bags full and acts like he just completed a high-level quest.

• “Period Playlist” Maker:

Magna creates a playlist called “PERIOD BATTLE MODE” that has everything from angry metal to sad love songs to lo-fi beats. He insists it’ll “match all your moods, babe.”

• Protective Gremlin Mode:

He’ll snap at anyone who looks at her wrong, even if they’re just breathing near her. “She’s in pain, BACK OFF!” Even if she’s just walking fine and not in any pain at all.

• Secretly Googles Everything:

Tries to be casual like “Yeah I know all about this stuff,” but he’s absolutely in the Black Bulls bathroom whispering to his grimoire like, “what does cramping even feel like—how do I help???”

• Offers to Take Her Pain Away… With Spells:

He seriously considers asking Vanessa if there’s a Red Thread solution to “make the uterus chill.”

• Snuggle Monster:

He turns into the most patient little cuddlebug. He’ll hold her for hours, rubbing her back or stroking her hair, and if she falls asleep, he won’t move a muscle—even if his legs go numb.

• Tells Everyone (Too Proudly):

“Yeah, my girl’s on her period and still kicks ass. Toughest lady I know.” — he has no shame and thinks she’s the coolest for dealing with it like a queen.

[kojoty]

been trying something new. gonna go full swing into trying to start this discipline on monday but slowly working up my productivity through the weekend. start my morning (after getting the animals fed and the chickens released and watered-- talk about a way to wake up in the cold! leap out of bed and run outside! whew!) by doing at least a load of dishes while I boil the water for coffee, take my coffee with me to the shower. then drink coffee, look at the news, write an entry in my journal, and do a lesson of my language learning!!!!! this sets me up to go to work! and thennnnn we're working on evening tasks-- at least a 30 min window of cleaning. an hour window of mandatory reading / studying time. time slotted for making food etc and then the rest of the night free!!!!!! there's always that tired exhausted gremlin that wants to just 'free time' it all and I've been giving myself that allowance the last year as i finalize the 'who am i' journey, but now that i've completed the 'who am i' journey, at least for right now, at least stable enough to set my soles to the earth, it's time to do the work :D more discipline to come but I think trying-- and really trying, not just bah humbug i failed oh well, but pulling myself back to it even if i miss a day of something-- will help. I want to be more mindful about my time

[darkenedroses-world]

Sweet on You — Ethan x Reader

🔹 Fluff 🔹 Ethan x Reader 🔹 GN!Reader 🔹 Domestic Vibes 🔹 Couch Cuddles 🔹 Emotional Whiplash 🔹 Sweet Boy Energy 🔹 Request 🦋

Ethan is warm.

That’s the first thing you notice when he flops onto the couch beside you like a human space heater. He kicks his legs up, drags half the blanket over both of you, and sprawls out like he owns the place. “Comfy now,” he announces proudly. “You’re literally crushing me,” you grumble. “I said—comfy now.” You try to shove him off. He doesn’t move. Just grins that dumb little grin of his, the one that always shows up when he knows he’s being annoying on purpose. “You love me,” he says, smug. You roll your eyes. “Do not.”

He leans in with a dramatic gasp. “Do too.” “Do not.” “Then why’d you smile just now?” You scowl at him through the tiniest smile and he lights up. That full-face, eye-squinting grin that makes him look like he just won a game he wasn’t even playing. “You’re so annoying.” “But cute,” he shoots back. “Debatable.” He laughs—that laugh, the one that sounds like pure sunshine and chaos had a baby. You hate how much you love it.

But then… he goes quiet. Still smiling, but it shifts. Softer. More real. “I really like being around you, y’know,” he says, voice lower now. “You’re kind of my favorite person.” You blink. “…What?” He shrugs, suddenly playing with the corner of the blanket. “I was just thinking about it. You make everything feel easier. Even when nothing’s going on… it still feels better when you’re around.” You’re stunned. He catches you mid-processing and offers a crooked smile, a little bashful now. “Too much?”

You shake your head, swallowing the unexpected wave of butterflies. “No. Just… caught me off guard.” He leans in, nudges your shoulder gently. “I do that sometimes.” And then he presses a kiss to your temple, pulls you in tighter, and buries his face in your neck like he didn’t just wreck you emotionally out of nowhere. Ethan is chaos. And comfort. And apparently—really, really good at making your heart forget how to beat.

Later that night, you’re half-asleep in bed when you hear clattering in the kitchen. At first, you think it’s a raccoon. Or maybe a ghost. But then there’s a muttered “shit shit shit” followed by the very distinct sound of a spatula hitting the floor. You groan and roll out of bed, dragging the blanket with you like a cape. When you shuffle into the kitchen, you find Ethan standing over the stove with a pan in one hand and absolutely no clue in his eyes.

“What the hell are you doing?” you ask. He turns like a deer caught holding pancake mix. “…Midnight breakfast?” You blink. He blinks back. “…It’s 2:34 a.m.,” you point out. “Exactly. Peak breakfast hours.” You stare at him. He stares at the ceiling like that’ll help. There’s flour on the counter. Batter in his hair. One suspiciously dark pancake on a plate that looks like it’s been through something. You sigh. “Ethan.” “What?”

“You’re not even using a whisk.” He holds up a fork proudly. “Old-fashioned.” You take it from him, set the pan to low, and grab the real whisk from the drawer. He watches you with a small smile as you start fixing the mess—mixing the batter right, flipping the pancakes properly. “You’re gonna do the dishes, right?” you mumble, still half-asleep. “Absolutely not,” he says. You shoot him a glare.

He grins, leans over, and presses a kiss to your shoulder. “Worth a shot.” Once the pancakes are finally done, the two of you sit on the counter like gremlins, feet swinging, sharing one plate between you like you’re in some weird domestic dream. “You know,” he says around a mouthful of food, “you looked cute coming in here with your little blanket cape.” You groan. “Don’t.”

“You did! Like a sleepy wizard. My sleepy wizard.” You narrow your eyes. “You’re never allowed to cook unsupervised again.” “I love when you boss me around.” You lightly shove him with your foot. He leans in, softer now. “Hey.” You glance over. He looks at you for a second too long before saying, “I meant what I said earlier. About you being my favorite.” Your chest squeezes. You don’t say anything. Just lean your head on his shoulder.

He hums, happy. You fall asleep an hour later, blanket cape and all, with pancake crumbs on the counter and Ethan’s arm wrapped tight around your waist. Perfect chaos. Perfect night.

[bricksandmutualaid]

Comrades,

Labor has once again triumphed over the oligarchy, crushing it like so many snakes beneath the boots of the proletariat. What’s that? "Tread harder, daddy?" Gross. But also, obliged.

Yesterday I bravely endured the capitalist gulag known as detention (full report below the split), and today I was supposed to return. However, as today is the sacred observance of ‘Skip School on Wednesday’, I will not be in attendance. Instead, I will do my part by engaging in a time-honored act of revolutionary praxis:

🎮 Final Fantasy X – A tale of a young comrade leading his cohort against an oppressive regime, dismantling its power structure, and changing the world forever. OR 🔑 Kingdom Hearts – A tale where Sora has big shoes and smacks Heartless and Disney villains with a key.

Choices, choices.

Meanwhile, John C is still MIA. No calls, no texts. Something is up.

I was assigned a seat in front of Joey Reardon, a pillar of the capitalist swine state. Armada royalty. A living embodiment of everything wrong with society. Or, more accurately, a massive pile of shit with arms.

The events unfolded thusly:

📌 Joey: "Hey faggot, give me your pencil."* 📌 Me: Ignoring the slur, attempting to will his existence out of reality. 📌 Joey: "Hey, homo, give me your pencil." Begins stabbing my neck with his own pencil (???) like some kind of feral gremlin. 📌 Joey: "Hey. Fag. Give. Me. Your. Pencil." (Now drawing on my vintage Korn shirt, which is, frankly, a war crime.)

I turned, twirling my pencil in my hand. "I don’t have one," I said smugly.

Joey, confused as hell, pointed at the pencil in my hand like the idiot he is. "It’s right there, you faery!" He tried to knock it away, but I was too fast. (Years of button-mashing Quick Time Events have prepared me for this.)

Mrs. Alred, detention overlord: "Joey, Dan, if you don’t quit horsing around, I’m going to give you another detention. Joey, remember if you get one more, you’re going to in-school suspension."

At this, the room erupted into barely contained laughter. Joey sat there seething, undoubtedly planning some next-level suburban villainy. He asked to go to the bathroom and was excused.

And that’s when I saw my chance.

His desk was practically empty, save for a copy of Game & Fish Midwest from last month. His partially unzipped backpack contained:

A bottle of Mountain Dew

Some hunting magazines

Textbooks (probably never used)

With the precision of a seasoned revolutionary, I reached into his bag, unscrewed the cap of his Mountain Dew, and put it back sideways. Subtle. Undetectable. A small but meaningful victory against capitalist aggression.

When the bell rang, I grabbed my stuff and went outside where Grandma and my cousin Aaron were waiting. Aaron wasn’t in a talkative mood, so we swung by McDonald's, and I got chicken nuggets (the proletarian’s meal).

As I left the car, I told Grandma, "I’m skipping school tomorrow, so don’t worry about detention. Love you!" She said something about Jesus giving me intelligence and me wasting it, but I was already gone. Well, also my hearing sucks.

I ran down to the basement, booted up my PS2 Slim, played Persona 3 for all of 12 minutes, got bored, and took a nap. I just woke up an hour ago.

So now, I must choose my path forward: ⚔️ Rebel against the Church of Yevon (Final Fantasy X), OR 🔑 Swing a comically oversized key at cartoon villains (Kingdom Hearts).

Stay tuned, comrades. The struggle continues.

[yutamayo]

Y'all r crazy if u think I wouldn't fr fall in love with an AI robot like these dystopian movies got me trippin BC I'm not talking no girlfriend thru the phone I'm talking sci-fi robot in a human skin the way I would bang and love that AI with my whole heart I'm not even joking I wish we were there already but the world will probs burn before we get access to that good shit so for now I will dream.

[dannystattoo]

Wedding Date Daniel

Pairing: Danny Wagner x Female Reader

Warnings: None, it's literally just tooth-rotting fluff

“Babe, are you sure I look ok?” You asked as you finished touching up your makeup. You’d originally planned to get into town yesterday for your cousin’s wedding, but Nashville had terrible storms the night before and no flights were getting in or out. You were now stressed about getting ready since you’d only been able to get in a few hours ago and the wedding was fast approaching.

“Sweetheart, how many times do I have to tell you, you look incredible,” Danny told you. Admittedly, the backless black dress you’d picked was very flattering, but you looked so exhausted no amount of makeup could make you look more human.

“I feel like you have to say that,” you said. You were convinced you looked like a gremlin who had slept at the airport the night before (because you were), and it was incurable.

“10/10, would gladly bang? Is that better?”He laughed. You lightly smacked him on the arm, though you appreciated the compliment more than you wanted to let on.

“You’re disgusting, you’re lucky you’re cute”

“In all seriousness baby, you don’t have to worry, I promise. Now, me on the other hand-”

“We talked about this, honey, are you worried my family isn’t gonna like you?”

“I dunno. I’ve only ever met your brother, your whole extended family is quite the jump”

“And they’ll love you, I know they will”

Danny shot you a look, and you could tell that he was more nervous about meeting your family than he would ever say.

“Honey, you have nothing to worry about. My brother loved you, and we had a great time when he came to Nashville over the summer.”

“Yeah, but your parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins…”

“Don’t forget the pets, my cousin’s dog will absolutely be part of the wedding,” you laughed. You could tell that hadn’t eased his mind at all, so you sat down next to him and grabbed his cheek so you could pull him to face you.

“Listen Danny, I won’t sugar coat it, my family is a lot. There’s a lot of us, we’re loud, we like to party, and I promise everyone will be all over you. Everyone is really excited to meet you though, they’ve been telling me since you agreed to be my plus one. It’s gonna be great, by the time we get to the reception, you’ll forget you were ever nervous.” You leaned your forehead against his and kissed him on the nose.

“I also happen to really like you and can’t wait to show you off to my family.” You kissed him again, and this time he laid down to pull you on top of him.

“I hate to cut this short, babe, but we should probably call our Uber soon. The ceremony starts in a little over an hour. Don’t worry, we’ll pick up where we left off when we get back tonight.”

“I’m already looking forward to going home with the best looking girl at this wedding”

Danny grabbed his phone to order the Uber, but thankfully it was within arm’s reach so you could keep him pinned to the bed until you absolutely needed to leave.

A few hours after and the reception was in full swing. The ceremony had been uneventful, save for a few of your family members accosting you the second they saw you. It was a huge wedding though, and because you arrived on the later side, you were able to be seated towards the back.

“At least you’ll have a chance to ease into this” you said as you both sat down. There was no need to be worried, though, like you expected. Danny fit right in with your family immediately and everyone would tell you later how much they liked him. You even lost him a few times throughout the night, finding him talking to various relatives.

“You having a good time?” You asked as the dinner and speeches were wrapping up and people were starting to move towards the dance floor.

“Yeah! Your family’s pretty great”

“I knew they’d love you. Now as happy as that makes me, come spend a little time with your girlfriend please”

“Of course, baby. Wanna go get a drink refill and we can hit the dance floor?”

“Yes please”

Just as you guys made your way to the dance floor, the bride was about to throw the bouquet. You never understood the hype of this tradition, but you played along anyway and stood to the back of the floor.

“What, don’t wanna catch it?” Danny laughed in your ear.

“Eh, I just don’t care as much as everyone else I guess. Do you know who many bouquets I’ve caught at weddings? People have certainly gotten married before me.” What you didn’t expect was your cousin’s new wife had an ARM on her. Despite being in the back of the crowd, she hurled it far enough it made it directly to you.

“Oh that was so on purpose” Danny pointed out. You had to admit, it did feel aimed.

“What can I say, I think my family already decided they wanna keep you around”

“Good, I’m not intending to go anywhere.”

The rest of the night was a fun, drunken blur. Your family really knew how to throw a party, and this had to be the most fun wedding you’ve ever been to. By the last slow dance of the night, your shoes had long since been taken off and you were leaning into Danny, partially because you wanted to be as close to him as possible (you were very affectionate when you drank), and also because the room was spinning just the tiniest bit.

“You ok, darling?”

“‘M fine, those cocktails were just a lot stronger than I thought they’d be. The first one tasted so watered down!”

“You wanna go sit?”

“No, I’m good, I promise.” As soon as the song ended, the room was filled with cheers as the opening chords of Don’t Stop Believin’ started playing. You were nothing if not a sucker for 80s music, and you suddenly felt much better than you had a few minutes ago.

After a couple of songs played and the bride and groom were sent in their way, you managed to catch a ride back to the hotel with some of your cousins. In an attempt to avoid the surged Uber prices, you’d squeezed five people into the back seat, and you’re pretty sure someone had also put themselves in the back hatch of the car. It was a good thing you didn’t mind squeezing onto Danny’s lap at all. You leaned back against the window and shifted so you were laying your head on his chest as best as you could in the cramped backseat.

“Hi” you giggled as you looked up at him, the fact you were shoved in this clown car the funniest thing in your still drunken state.

“Hi yourself” he pulled you as tight to him as he could. “You still doing ok?"

“Mhmm, just really tired.” You had a decently long drive back to the hotel, seeing as the wedding venue was beautiful, but kind of in the middle of nowhere. You made yourself comfortable and were out before the stuffed car left the lot. You’d drunkenly insisted on bringing the bouquet you’d caught home with you, clutching it while you slept. You guys hadn’t been together all that long, coming up on a year in a few months, but something changed that night. After meeting your family, seeing you interact with everyone (including the kids and the dog who was, in fact part of the wedding party), and surviving sleeping on the floor of the Nashville airport together, he knew and he couldn’t stop thinking about it as he watched you sleep. He wouldn’t ask for a while, but he knew that you were the one. He was more excited to see you get excited about the bouquet than he wanted to admit since it seemed both to you were on the same page.

Lost in thought, the hotel came up sooner than expected.

“Honey, time to go,” he nudged you gently. As you groggily realized where you were, everyone else was already discussing plans to go have a nightcap at the hotel bar before heading up.

“Danny you guys in?” asked your brother, who had become Danny’s biggest fan at the wedding.

“I don’t know, probably not? Babe, do you wanna go hang out at the lobby bar before we go to bed?”

“No, I wanna sleep” you tried to burrow your way back into his chest.

“Yeah, I think we’ll pass tonight, but we’re still here for another day if you wanna do something tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, man. See you guys tomorrow, I hope. She’ll be a mess.” Danny waved to your brother and went back to trying to get you out of the car.

“Babe, you’ve gotta get up, we’re home.”

“I’m too tired, we have to go all the way to the top floor. Stay here,” you slurred.

“We can’t sleep in your cousin’s car, sweetie. Tell you what, can you let me out and I’ll carry you up?”

“Fine,” you agreed as you shifted off his lap. You managed to take a few steps out of the car, regretting the round of shots you’d been talked into five minutes before bar close. You hooked your arms around Danny’s neck and he grabbed your legs, carrying you inside.

“God this is embarrassing” you laughed as you leaned into his neck.

“Babe, I’ve seen much worse at weddings, trust me, this is tame.” When you got up to the room he made sure you had water and ibuprofen, and he managed to find some vending machine snacks for you in hopes it would soak up some of the alcohol.

“Ok, where are your pjs?” He dug through your suitcase, astounded by how much you squeezed into a carry on.

“Um, about that. I kinda didn’t pack any?”

“Do you want the leggings you wore on the plane?”

“I can’t sleep in pants, you know that.” You started laughing “I might have bought a couple new lingerie sets and planned to sleep in those…well nothing, preferably. We can still….if you wanna”

“Babe, I love you so much and trust me, I wanna see them, but you’re so so drunk right now. Let me grab one of my shirts and you can sleep in it ok?” He grabbed his well-worn Church of Rock & Roll shirt out of his bag and helped you change into it. Once he’d gotten himself taken care of, he came into bed and you immediately clung onto him like a koala.

“Have I told you how much I love you?” you said into his neck.

“A few times, but I never get sick of hearing it. Go to sleep angel, i don’t want you to get sick tomorrow” he had a feeling he’d probably still end up waking up with you in a few hours to hold your hair while you puked, but he could hope.

“Ok, I love you, I can’t wait to get married”

“What was that babe?”

“Well, I caught the bouquet so we have to get married next,” you drifted off to sleep, and Danny already knew you’d have no recollection of saying that tomorrow. He agreed though, and hoped you meant it when you said you couldn’t wait to get married.

[ratsoh-writes]

*crawls in slowly after getting beaten up by life*

Imagine fluff. Imagine funny. Imagine Swing toddling around and saying one word phrases at random times. They mean something but it takes a while to figure it out.

Imagine Swing looking at his parents and saying "Full" and they have to figure out what specifically is full and a few hours later they find a drawer completely stuffed with feathers and they don't know where the feathers came from.

Shdhdhdhd swing is truly pops child. He’s already a little chaos gremlin

[tera-91]

Half-cooked thoughts ... pt 1

So its been about a week since I type up a rant. A lot has happened.

Some good, some not so good.

At least I guess it depends on who is asked that question.

One of my little fluffballs seem to be doing well. I haven’t noticed much, every time I check things seem ok. I don’t check a lot, mostly because I’m afraid to. Afraid I will hear something that I don’t want to. But we are on another medication to make sure things sound right.

My other furball is healing from surgery. A long way to go before things are normal again. Healing a bone takes so long. Doesn’t help this fluffer is a high energy breed pup. Already is trying to hobble around faster than is advised. Isnt a good medicine taker, never has been. But the little gremlin is eating well so that is good.

Kind of sort of because of said pupper I decided to quit my job. It was just the last straw with the manager. I asked for some accommodation but of course he was just an ass about it. Said I could be given the accommodation if I worked hours that I said from the jump that I could not work. I didn’t just quit because of this, a lot of other stuff transpired before. This was just my breaking point.

I still have a hand full of shift left but I really don’t want to work with this manager any longer. The other one is ok. If I could just work with the other manager only. But even then I just swing between not caring in the slightest if I might be running late, to feeling like I’m on the edge of a panic attack. Mostly which depends on if I know who the manager will be there that day.

Like if I know it’s the one that makes the schedule I get fidgety and feel like I catch myself holding my breath before I leave to go to work. To the point that I leave in a panic and somehow get there upwards of 10 minutes early. Sometimes I clock in only because I am given a work item. But I know this manager knows. I did this once and I saw the way they looked at the clock. Almost like they were about to say something but I guess realized the amount of time wasn’t a lot so not worth it. Once I get there I flip flop between being angry to ready to bolt. Either way I just want to leave.

 If it’s the other one, the nicer one. If I’m running late I don’t particularly care, I know they wont blow up about me being under 5 minutes late.

[possumsinpeoplesuits]

These are really good warmups for my other projects, but I sometimes giggle at how much research into mythology and folklore I've slipped into this saga about a transgender catgirl familiar's vendetta against the local gnome population. I do the same writing smut, that's where all the characters and this worldbuilding is coming from, but I'm just like...

"Hey, welcome to this story about wizard fucking and petplay. I hope you brought your copy of the Kalevala and some notes about ancient languages, because you're not allowed to cum unless you have foreknowledge of Louhi kidnapping Anniki so Ilmarinen would make the Sampo for her and how much effort I put into combining Sumerian words with vaguely Germanic roots to make my own fucking elvish. Hell, you're not allowed to touch yourself at all until you look up the various myths about the settlement of Ireland, because how else will you know where I got most of the names for the Mage Houses?"

I usually say I'm Ace or Demi, but I think I'm just so autistic that I literally can't imagine sex without mythology infodumps. I fucking lost my virginity after showing my partner that fucking Sampo movie that was on an episode of MST3K because my hyperfixation on Finno-estonian mythology was in full swing at the time.

We'd been dating online for a bit but it was the first time we'd met in person, and I still let them nut in me because they listened to me explain the three parts of the soul in Finnic shamanism. Apparently all it takes is letting me ramble about henki, itse, and luonto for an hour and I'll let someone go bareback in a hotel room on the first date.

I don't even know why. Finno-Estonian myth has been this huge interest of mine for like a decade now, but I don't have any cultural background there because I grew up in an Amish area of fucking Texas, so I have no idea why the autism gremlins have latched onto it so hard.

Maybe I had a previous life there, but probably not as a human or anything. Some kind of bird like a corvid or whatever the local equivalent is, before my pleasant feathery life of screaming and collecting shiny things was tragically cut short by a ravenous, butt naked gnome up in Lapland somewhere.

If you're still out there, you frostbitten tonttu fuck, you may have struck me down once, but I've returned more powerful than ever before! Run as fast as your tiny little gnome legs will carry you if you think it will help.

Get ready, Terho. Not even death will save you from my judgement.

So, apparently in other cities, the word gnome refers to people who're almost dwarf sized? No wonder everyone gets so mad when I catch gnomes here in Thaum, they probably think I'm some kind of serial killer!

Our gnomes are like rats in the shape of tiny people. The feral ones don't really say much, but a few of the ones in the city learned to parrot curse words because that's usually what they hear after they bite someone's toes, or stab them in the arse with a crochet needle.

City ferals like to find little corners and crawlspaces in houses and steal food and stuff from the kitchens, which usually isn't a problem if there's just one, but you can't count on your eyes to know that for sure! They're shockingly good at illusions, so you should leave some flour on your pantry floor to count how many footprints there are. If there's more than one, don't wait! Go to your nearest guild or tavern hunt board immediately!

Gnome catching is actually a really lucrative job for adventurers who're just starting out, because one pair of feral gnomes can swell up to several hundred in a year, and it's not like they're going to stop anytime soon! You also might consider investing in a cat to sniff them out. We're great at seeing through illusions, and might be cheaper in the long term than schlepping downtown to put out quest after quest!

According to Simon, gnomes aren't a problem out in the hill country because they have so many natural predators, like cait sidhe and grimalkins who catch them by the dozens, which probably explains my urges! Come to think of it, those are both feline races from the Hulderwald, so maybe gnomes really were rats that the fae changed to look like little beardy men?

Up north where the skalds and noita come from, they had another solution to gnomes eating their crops and getting into the chicken coops: Domestication! Domesticated gnome breeds like nisse, tomte, and tonttu basically work like tiny little guard dogs to keep the feral gnomes away from gardens, shops, and homes, and there's usually a few gnome buggeries in every city for a good selection!

The main differentiation between domestic and feral gnome breeds is that Domesticated gnomes wear little red hats and tunics instead of letting their twig and bollocks flop about. There's usually a name sewn into the inside brim of their caps, too, kinda like the collars familiars wear!

They're also much smarter. Not only can they understand short sentences, they know that their porridge and safe sleeping place are dependent on playing nice and patrolling the estate with their little forks like tiny personal guards against their barbarous cousins, so they stay on their BEST behavior.

You might have to replace them here and there, though. Since they roam about, it's not uncommon for them to get carried away by birds, or eaten by, say, cat familiars who're too entranced by the prospect of such a well fed little morsel to notice they're not spouting curse words with their dicks out like a lush after the taverns close.

My point in explaining all this is so you understand that I'm doing very important work when I go gnome hunting, so please stop calling the city guards when I show my trophies on the Orblr! Every time they come by the dorms we have to bribe them to go away, and it's getting really expensive!

Are a couple of deliciously plump pets really worth getting eaten out of house and home by a bunch of tiny naked men who want to steal your toenails before going back to fucking in your walls like it's the back room of a bathhouse? I think not!

All I ask, from the bottom of my heart, is for a bit of compassion and wizardry solidarity! I need you to understand that my gnome crimes are honest mistakes, and it's okay to let your house gnomes outside once in a while!

Preferably the plump ones. Maybe with a bit of wine first so they're extra slow.

You know, as a sign of trust...

[byhees]

strawberry jam.

엔하이픈 정원 ・ female reader + word count 1000 genre fluff roommates au college au warnings not proof-read — more

a/n. blank

with the tip of your toes softly smacking the wooden tiling of the floor, muted echoes bouncing off the four walls of the living room, you grasped that you’d better stay quiet. it was one in the morning, and you had no business being up at this hour, knowing full well that you had a fully packed schedule ahead.

in your heart, you were channeling some inner gremlin, snooping around your dorm like some rodent. however, your stomach made the call, growling and gurgling horrendously loudly in the break of dawn. you weren’t going to ignore its cries for food any longer, because it was starting to get more distracting, preoccupying your mind with mindless thoughts, when you should have been fast asleep.

for you, at least, weird cravings were always popping up in your mind, clouding your concentration whenever you were doing something that was genuinely important. a recent one was strawberry jam.

you were always a fan of strawberries. with every bite, there would always be an explosion of an addictive hint of tartness, combined with the flavourful sweetness. the taste alone was capable of a fully fledged strawberry addiction.

as of late, you started being more adventurous with strawberry products, choosing to buy things like strawberry ice cream, strawberry gummies, strawberry flavoured drinks, and the like. unexpectedly, you never really experienced that same mind-blowing ‘click’ that’d usually come with natural strawberries.

understanding your own palate preferences only strengthened the belief that you hated artificial strawberry flavoured things. hence, you resorted to the world of youtube tutorials, and decided to make your own homemade strawberry jam.

it sounded simple. crush the strawberries till they’re mashed, add the sugar and lemon juice in a saucepan to begin stirring over low heat, boil the mixture, and store it in a cool, dark area; you had never expected for a seven minute video to be this life-changing, but you had been making your own strawberry jam for the last four months, fridge stocked up with jars of the jam.

feet cautiously tapping against the smooth tiles, you gingerly snaked your arms to grab onto the handle of the fridge, the shape fitting nicely in your grip.

this was the hardest part; opening the fridge without causing a ruckus. from past experiences, where you boldly swung the fridge door open, creating the most deafening noise, fracturing the fragile veil of silence, you learnt that you had to do the complete opposite.

you remembered the mortified look on your roommate’s face as he turned the corner, expecting to see some robber jacking his air fryer or something. he was visibly relieved, yet appalled, when he caught sight of your fluffy winnie-the-pooh pyjama pants, because in his opinion, there was no way a thief would steal something in such a ridiculous, eye-catching outfit; your roommate, jungwon, who couldn’t resist telling you off, nagging at you like you were committing a felony for eating buttered popcorn at two in the morning.

your previous experiences taught you well, because according to yourself, you had mastered the skills to silently open a fridge.

you began to grip on the fridge handle tightly, your non-dominant hand applying a bit of pressure on the door, as the side of your dominant hand slid itself in between the fridge door and the fridge body. fingers carefully and slowly tugging at the seal of the fridge, you felt your heart thumping and pounding as though it were a train on tracks, the sound blaring into your ears.

as your persistently pried the fridge door open, you could see the faint streaks of light peering through the opening, ‘inflaming’ the abyss-blackness of the kitchen. gently, you tugged on it for a few more seconds, the fridge door swinging open slowly without much resistance.

giving yourself a small pat on the shoulder for how successful your attempt was, you now relished in being able to munch to your heart’s content.

timidly, you reached for the familiar glass jar, which had a big sticker label pasted diagonally on its surface. it read ‘y/n’s jam. DO. NOT. TOUCH’, so it was pretty self explanatory. the vermillion red hue of its contents seemed so incredibly tempting, even under the dingy light of the fridge. upon touch, you softly winced at the coolness of the material, your grip being rather frictionless with the gradual trickling of condensation droplets. you could feel victory approaching with fastened steps. just open the lid and grab a spoon, easy!

wrapping the lid of the glass jar with the hem of your shirt, you twisted it with much effort. to your dismay, there was a ‘pop’ that splintered the peaceful silence, fading into tintinnabulation. you could just sense jungwon stomping down the hall with his disheveled hair and his striped pyjamas.

the chilly air emitting from the open fridge now nipping and tingling against your chilblained feet, you could hear the vague sound of approaching footsteps.

jungwon had been sleeping rather peacefully actually, until his slumber was rudely disrupted by a sudden ping. he was half-awake, and still regaining his consciousness, as he stumbled down the dimmed hallway.

when he saw nothing that was particularly alarming in the living room, he turned to the only other place left— the kitchen.

the second he walked round the corner, he was blinded by the unpleasant burst of light. from the harsh squinting of his eyes, he could make out a glowing figure, which was frozen in its position. if he hadn’t recognised those neon-green mike wazowski shorts, he would’ve thought it was an angel, who was, for some reason, raiding his kitchen??

safe to say, jungwon gave you one long chiding for your occasional fridge scavenge, and he even went as far as to judge your preference to eat strawberry jam on its own, proclaiming that it was too thick and sweet to be consumed alone.

a night that was supposed to end with a pleased stomach, now ended with a debate regarding how one should eat jam.

[stevesbipanic]

I love your writing posts and the prompts so. freaking. much. Everything is a source of inspiration for little artist like me!

Sooo, how about some Halloween themed Steddie? 🖤🎃

Ahhh Ty, it's wild that I could be an inspiration for any art since all of you artists on here are so talented 😍💖

I'm in a spooky mood so here's some Halloween Steddie for you.

🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇🦇

Halloween had been a sore spot for Steve since '84. When your girlfriend breaks your heart on a holiday it kind of makes you hate the holiday. Eddie however, loved Halloween, which was unsurprising. October 1st Steve showed up to his boyfriend's trailer and saw it already decked out in skeletons and bats.

"You'd think you'd be sick of bats after what we went through, Eds."

"If anything bats are more metal now, Stevie."

Eddie had asked Steve if they could have a Halloween party at his house weeks in advance and of course Steve had said yes not wanting to spoil the fun for his boyfriend.

They'd decided to go as Claire and Bender from The Breakfast Club, mainly cause Eddie would get a kick out of calling Steve "The Princess" all night as if he hadn't called Steve that numerous times before.

Nancy and Argyle had agreed to pick everyone up in their cars leaving Steve and Eddie enough time to finish the food and decorations.

"It looks great sweetheart, like the haunted house of my dreams."

"Only you would have happy dreams about haunted houses."

By the time everyone had arrived, Steve had just finished setting out all the food while Eddie was finishing his eyeliner. The kids tumbled through the door when Steve answered it, beelining it to the food.

"Hey Princess where's your Criminal?"

"Haha, hey Robs nice Fred outfit where's your Daphne? Ed's upstairs."

"Nance is helping Will fix his coat, a button came loose in the car but they'll be in in a minute."

Once Eddie came downstairs the party was in full swing and Steve was actually having a good time. After a few hours the kids were starting to get drowsy so Steve set out the spare mattress and blankets, setting up Gremlins for them to watch as they all fell asleep.

The older group moved to sitting out by the pool, wanting to engage in non kid-friendly activities. Eddie, Jonathan and Argyle passed around a joint which Eddie occasionally shotgunned to Steve while the group passed around dumb stories and drank.

Eventually even the teens had to sleep splitting into the guest rooms and Eddie following Steve to his room. The two boys helped each other wipe off what was left of their makeup and into comfy clothes before laying down in bed.

"Thank you for making Halloween fun again, Eds"

"Anytime sweetheart. I know the day had a bit of a black mark for you with Wheeler and all but I really love that you tried for me. My favourite princess" Eddie said giggling softly and kissing Steve's cheek.

"Of course Eddie, I'd do anything to make you smile. I-I love you Eds," they'd never said the words to each other but now felt right, it was time to make a good Halloween memory.

Eddie moved forward capturing Steve's lips kissing him deeply, "I love you too, Stevie."

Now whenever Steve thought of Halloween there was no mention of bullshit or punch or broken hearts, just two boys madly in love with each other.