names that sound like other names

what if taako’s last name is loop and lup’s last name is tacco out of like reference to each other so when taako forgot lup his last name and what it meant was also kind of lost among that? so then he was just like um… taako again? that sounds right i guess?

anonymous asked:

So I saw an interesting theory that Dammek's full name hasn't been revealed because it matches the name of another character we've met (Vantas, Zahhak, etc. or even Harley/Halley or Claire since those names also have six letters). Since you said the other day you wanted to see theories I thought I'd drop it off here.

Hmm, an interesting angle, but I really doubt it, since trolls only seem to share surnames if they’re Ancestor and Descendant of each other. The SGRUB players were extreme outliers in their culture for ever meeting other trolls with the same names. 

And I can’t see how Harley/Halley would fit into things, but Claire, I guess, is technically possible… and could be a possible point of connection with some other mysteries (i.e. what the heck is up with Joey’s mom). But it just seems like too much of a “human-sounding” name. “Dammek Claire”… eh.

Though I guess the omission of his name HAS to mean SOMETHING, now that you bring it up………. and I can’t come up with any other alternatives.  

…This is going to bother the hell out of me now  ಠ_ಠ

tyrannusjeans  asked:

*Hi! I’m an AFAB non binary person and I’m 16. I’m looking for a name. I quite like Grier but I want to hear some others too. I like funky, quirky names. If you can help, I’d be SOOOO grateful

Here’s some names :) (sorry, I like somewhat formal names that are a bit quirky and that shows pretty clear- maybe go on some baby name sites if you don’t like any of these. Also Grier sounds pretty cool :) )

Rowan, Sage, Quinn, Ash, Phoenix, Theo (is your full name Theodore or Theodora? either way, its pretty bad ass) , Claude, Cleo, Xenith, Robin, Jae, Kai, Aspen, Winter, Rain, Storm, Jess, Alex. 

Good luck!

-Mod Rowan. 

anonymous asked:

I definitely hear Bryce's laugh in that video..but was he the one who went Luke? Cartoonz??

I had to listen to the video like three times and it does sound like he said both. I definitely heard him say Cartoonz, he says Cartoonz in his own cute way and that’s how I heard it in the video but he most likely said both. :)

It’s so awkward when you go by two names and people try singing Happy Birthday to you and half the people say your first name while the other half say your nickname and then they all just switch names at the same time, lol. :P

my pals on the lancecord asked me for some tips on cuban spanish so i thought i’d share them here too for all you lance writers. i’m a cuban voltron fan who doesnt want to live in fear of bad spanish in nearly every damn fic and im trying to be the change i want to see in the world. so feel free to message me if you have any questions about lance’s culture bc this is nowhere near being comprehensive at all.

lets get into the stuff google translate can’t teach u!

i don’t know anyone under the age of 60 who says “dios mio.” lance definitely would not, unless he is doing an impression of his abuela.

things that sound more natural than dios mio: ave maria, ay dios, por dios, AY POR DIOS

more commonly we exclaim “coño!” for anything. shock/anger/awe/etc. if the reaction is negative, it’s just coño. if the reaction is positive, we drop the first syllable and draw it out like “‘ñoooooo”

we exclaim “pinga!” or “cojone!” or “pinga cojone!” as a negative reaction more commonly than any translations of omg too

“de madre” is something we usually exclaim as a negative reaction. it can be yelled or sighed or grumbled. usually has a frustrated or incredulous connotation

“wepa!” is a sound we make as a positive exclamation.

we say “‘ueno” like the verbal embodiment of ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ (it’s bueno with the b dropped)


other things that sound really stiff for cubans to say is like, “hola, como estas?” i mean, you say it to people you’re not on a casual level with. to friends/family these sound more natural:

“que bola asere” is how we greet our close friends

“que bola” or “que vuelta” is how we say hey

“oye” is hey! but not as a greeting, as an exclamation. something you would say before a greeting or on its own when surprised/offended/trying to get someone’s attention/etc

common insults: cabron/cabrona, mojon, comepinga, comemierda

common pet names for anyone: flaco, nena, mojon, mi socio, corazon

“asere” is our word for “bro” that no other country uses (1000% what lance calls hunk)

we also have a tendency to call our family members by their relation+their name, such as “my Tio Jimmy called” or “Abuela Carmen is making food.” i think this is when we have big ol families and just saying tio or abuela isnt specific enough


also this isnt spanish but i s2g so many bilingual cubans i know use the word “fire” almost constantly to describe something awesome. so i think thats a small cultural thing that communicates lance is cuban without having him speak spanish. (ex. “omg that’s fire” “hunk makes fire tacos” “pidge is fire at fixing stuff” “can you play that fire song?”)


now here’s a bunch of stuff that’s just my opinion

  • I think it’s most in character for Lance to drop Spanish words only one or two at a time into English phrases, since that’s how he uses it in canon (“Hasta la later, Keith!”). A couple of quick examples off the top of my head -
    • tremendo/tremenda - an adjective for huge. “You’re being tremendo sore loser, but okay.”
    • todito/todo - means everything. you can use them one after the other for extra drama. “I forgot todito, todo, about calculus immediately after passing it.”
    • These sound like really natural ways to drop Spanish into conversation without being forced if you keep it to a minimum. I aint here to tell u how to write your lance but i beg you - Please show restraint and don’t try to use all of these tips at the same time!!
  • I recommend following latin internet personalities (like jaxxgarcia or mr. red) to pick up their Spanglish phrasing if you’re really into that. please don’t try to make up your own. it’s never as cute as you thought.
  • if you’re writing full on spanish for more than a word or two, please do not ever make Lance speak it “accidentally” (or even worse, on purpose) to someone he knows doesn’t understand the language. that’s really rude and alienating and it’s so against lance’s character to isolate himself from others like that when he speaks fluent english. 
  • other times Lance can toss a spanish word in without sounding forced is if he’s namedropping cuban things! Try looking up some of our 
    • food (ropa vieja, pan con lechon, arroz con leche)
    • drinks (materva, iron beer, malta), 
    • films (juan of the dead, azucar amarga)
    • or music (celia cruz, marc anthony, juanes*) and have lance mention them by their spanish name if the topic comes up. 
      • *not all of these musicians are cuban, but they’re some of the most popular amongst us. i’m simply naming artists i think lance is most likely to enjoy considering his age and personality.
  • speaking of music, we have very specific dance styles that are pretty cool and almost mandatory to learn at a young age. cubans in general love to party, and to host large family gatherings which easily morph into parties, and basically any social event seems awkward if there’s no one dancing at any point. 
  • what I’m trying to say is Lance definitely knows salsa or merengue moves.
  • I don’t love to party and I’m not a good dancer and I don’t like dancing, but I know salsa anyway because I had to be in the environment my whole life. always exceptions, but the majority of cubans grow up knowing how to dance and it looks more or less like this:

and one last opinion for the road:

Voltron takes place in the future, so I like to dream of Lance being born in a world where Cuba’s free from communism. If you’re doing a Voltron AU that takes place nowadays, please don’t write about Lance’s experience in Cuba if you aren’t familiar with what it’s like to live under a regime like that. It’s very bleak and textbooks don’t cover half of the fucked up things that those who live there actually have to go through.

Lance could have been born in Cuba, but raised somewhere else. Miami would be my recommendation because it’s our second homeland and it means he would have been raised surrounded by Cuban culture without the governmental oppression. But Cubans are absolutely everywhere, so it’s equally believable that Lance’s family could have immigrated to Pawnee, Indiana. Even in Voltron canon, I think it’s likely Lance moved to America at a young age because he clearly has a native fluency in English.

edit: I have a cuban things tag now if you’re interested in finding out more cultural details!

So imagine after the war, Draco’s friends are thinking okay, Draco was only obsessed with Harry Potter because they were arch enemies but everything will go back to normal now. And then eighth year starts and nothing changes?

Draco is still staring at Harry Potter over the other side of the Great Hall, at breakfast, at lunch and at dinner. He still talks about how the great Harry Potter gets this or the boy who lived gets that. And the Slytherin are like ??? Why are you still obsessed with Harry? And Draco’s like ??? I’m not. We’re enemies remember? And his friends have to tell him no not anymore. You’re on the same side.

So Draco’s very confused for a while, not sure how he should be acting. And then he realises, even though he no longer hates Potter’s guts, he still wants to stare at him every meal. He still wants to find excuses to talk about him to his friends. He still wants to make snarky comments to Potter every class…but only because it’s the only time he gets to talk to him.

Despite all the warnings, it still hits Draco way too abruptly when he realises he’s in love with Harry Potter. He’s in the middle of a potions double when his eyes, completely of their own accord, latch on to Potter turning his head and laughing at something the Weasel said. Draco stares and stares as the realisation washes over him. He keeps staring even long after Potter has turned his head back to the front of the class and all he can see is messy black hair.

Pansy works it out first. Even before Draco’s potions epiphany. Although for once she understands the importance of keeping her mouth shut. So when Draco comes to her with his revelation, she is not at all surprised. And she is here to help. She convinces Draco to cool it with the snarky comments and work up the courage to actually talk to Potter.

And so - with plenty of encouragement - Draco does. At first it’s just small things like asking Potter for a spare quill in class, or saying excuse me politely as they pass rather than pushing into Potter. And then one day Draco works up the courage to say good morning to Potter when he runs into him in the Great Hall during breakfast. And Potter says good morning right back, albeit with a puzzled expression on his face.

Soon, Potter no longer looks puzzled. When Draco greets him, he returns the sentiment with a smile, that seems to grow with each day. It’s that smile which gives Draco the push he needs to approach Potter in the library one night and ask if he might like to share his table. An enthusiastic yes from Potter lights a small spark of hope in Draco’s pining heart.

Studying together becomes a habit most nights. It starts off silently, Draco happy to share his space with Potter but too nervous to think of anything further to say past a simple greeting. Thankfully one day it’s Potter who starts the first conversation. It’s one of those awkward small talk type conversations about the weather but it leads in to an animated discussion of Quidditch that keeps them talking well into the night, ignoring several reprimands from Madam Prince for being too loud in the library.

And so Draco and Harry - he’s no longer Potter - become friends. And Draco’s happy. Happier than he’s been in a long time. And his friends know. Not just Pansy. All the Slytherins. It’s obvious. Because despite spending most of his free time hanging out with Harry Potter, and professing to have no remaining hate for him at all, Draco still stares at him across the Great Hall, at breakfast, at lunch and at dinner.

And so Slytherins, being Slytherins, begin planning, with Pansy at the lead of course. They already know how Draco feels, they only need to get Harry Potter to realise his own feelings too, which they suspect match Draco’s. Because he might have his head down in the Great Hall but they’ve seen Harry stare at Draco during Quidditch games for far longer than strictly necessary.

And so they do something that Draco would completely disapprove of, solely for Draco’s own good. When they know Harry will be walking by the Quidditch lockers after a Gryffindor practice, they plant two of their own at a nearby bench and have them talking far louder than normal conversation requires.

“It’s really rather embarrassing. Draco’s been pining for ages. I’ve never seen anyone who had it so bad.”

“But who do you mean? I’ve only seen him hanging out with Potter.”

“Exactly. Potter. It’s tragic isn’t it? He’s in love with the boy who lived. He should probably queue up like all the other groupies just to get his autograph.”

While the two younger Slytherins continue their staged and poorly acted performance, (Pansy will have words with them later) Pansy, safely hidden with a disillusionment charm, watches Potter’s reaction closely and is not displeased. At the sound of Draco’s name, Potter stops immediately to eavesdrop which is telling in itself. When his own name comes into play, a blush creeps slowly up his face. And when Draco’s love for him is revealed, an involuntary smile appears on Harry’s face very very quickly. Pansy knows now they only have to wait.

Sure enough, at dinner that night, Harry Potter makes his move. Always one for dramatics, he walks right up to the Slytherin table and plants a short but deliberate kiss square on Draco’s face before Pansy even has time to let out a wolf whistle.

Draco sits there, mouth agape, pale face not so pale for once, until another Slytherin gives him a nudge on the shoulder. He looks up and blinks at Harry Potter who is smiling down at him. Once more Harry’s smile brings him courage. He stands up to meet Harry, conscious of every eye in the Great Hall on him, and kisses Harry Potter right back.

And it’s the Slytherins who lead the cheers that erupt across the Great Hall. Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy. At last.

anonymous asked:

hey would you ever do a "what if harry potter had been a girl" story? or a trans girl? i don't know how much gender would change things except other people's perceptions but...

Hermione went to the library, when Harry first confided in her. Whatever the faculty, the administration, or the Ministry believed or didn’t believe, the Hogwarts library gave the children what they needed and always would.

Hermione came back with books and books on gender in wizarding history, on the spells and words wizards had used for centuries or decades or mere years, and she and Harry bent their heads together and figured out what words Harry felt best told her story. From her hometown library, after that first summer, Hermione brought back memoirs and brightly-colored pamphlets that Harry read through instead of finishing her Potions homework.

When Harry looked in the Mirror of Erised, she still saw her mother, her father, all her gathered, lost kin. The specter of her father gathered up her hands in his. Her mother pushed back the long dark hair Petunia had always made her cut short and she called her beautiful.

When she looked into it again, after Devil’s Snare and winged keys, giant chess and Ron lying prone on the floor, Hermione wringing her eleven year old hands in the potion riddle room– When Harry looked into the Mirror again, she saw herself, just herself. The girl in the mirror winked and smiled and slipped the Stone in Harry’s pocket. No matter what other wishes and want laid on her narrow shoulders, at the end of the day the thing Harry wanted most was to help. Harry brushed one hand over the lump of rock in her robe pocket, and then brushed her other over her mess of hair, which was feet shorter than the girl in the mirror’s.

She woke up in the hospital wing, bedside table piled high with candy.

Once Harry and Hermione had sussed out between them what the words were for what was going on here, they had explained it to Ron. Harry didn’t come out to anyone else until partway through second year, though, at the height of the Heir of Slytherin nonsense.

She was fed up, then. She just wanted to be left alone, and this wouldn’t help with that, but they were all already staring. Keeping this to herself felt like a vice around her chest. Hogwarts was supposed to be better.

After, Ron came almost to blows with anyone who goggled or sniffed or rolled their eyes. Seamas learned to swallow his tongue. Draco Malfoy didn’t. Hermione wrote up an explanatory note about appropriate pronouns in her best penmanship and then copied it with flicks of her wand. With Harry’s embarrassed permission, she gave it to every professor Harry had or would ever have.

Colin Creevey stopped her in the Great Hall with a tug on her sleeve. She turned, shoulders rising, and the kid said in his piping voice, “You’re still my hero.”

That was better than it could have been, but she wasn’t sure she liked the “still.”

Peeves, though he was nasty about everything else–ickle firsties and orphan girls–got it immediately. For all six years of her Hogwarts tenure, he dropped water balloons on the heads of anyone who misgendered her. Professor Binns never quite figured it out, but he didn’t know any student’s name. Nearly Headless Nick gallantly and somewhat awkwardly called her lady and tried to hold open doors for her, despite the fact that he couldn’t open them.

Snape called Harry “Mr. Potter” for all seven years that he was in Harry’s life. Around year three, Ron stopped counting the detentions he got for his increasingly sarcastic responses to this.

The whispers about the Heir of Slytherin grew louder and louder, keeping pace with “Uh, I thought it was the Boy Who Lived?” Fred and George Weasley took it upon themselves to walk Harry to and from class when they could, talking loudly enough to drown everything out.

Then Hermione got Petrified and the Heir whispers stopped abruptly. Harry, if she hadn’t been busy with Ron trading off reading their assigned textbooks aloud to Hermione in the infirmary, might have felt gratified that the whole school knew how much this bushy-haired kid meant to her. Alright, so they thought she might murder Muggleborns with a mysterious monster, or sic a snake on her opponent in a dueling club? But they knew she wouldn’t hurt Hermione for anything.

In the Chamber, she met Tom Riddle. He was supposed to be her mirror, though she didn’t quite know that yet. He was supposed to be her shadow, the chain around her ankle, the other half (or another eighth) of her story and his soul.

Ginny had been trying to speak for months– to tell someone, to open the diary and the bag under her bed full of chicken-blood-stained robes and to thrust them into the light. But Percy had shushed her, all his assumptions orbiting his own importance to her story. The teachers had patted her on the head. She had been frightened, eleven years old with Tom whispering in her ear, guiding her hands.

Harry had been trying to speak for years– to explain to someone the way she did not feel like Dudley, like Vernon, like the boys in the locker room at school. Hermione had listened. Hermione had given her books and books of people who felt like her. Ron had listened, and taught her wizard’s chess, and kicked Draco in the shins.

But here Harry was, standing alone– a red-haired lump at her feet, dark robes sodden with moldy water. Hermione was frozen. Ron was trapped behind a rock fall and Tom was pacing, gloating, glowing. Ginny was breathing. Ginny had to be breathing. Harry was going to save her. She had to, because no one had listened to the kid, not even Harry.

The phoenix tears left no scars on Harry’s arm. Riddle, the Chamber, the life going out of her, everything that had happened in that long year– none of it left scars on Ginny, or at least none that anyone could see.

When Harry got back to 4 Privet Drive that summer, she suffered through Aunt Petunia’s annual hair cut and then she curled up with Hedwig and wrote a letter. She wrote about the Muggle candies she missed when at Hogwarts, and how her cousin thought she was weird for being excited about summer homework. She asked Ginny how she was.

Ginny wrote back after a long week. She didn’t answer the question, but she wrote about helping Dad on the car, about the apple harvest coming, and Fred and George playing pranks on the ghoul in the attic.

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anonymous asked:

I live in Germany (but Im arab) and in German "Kimme" means "ass crack" and in Bavarian/Austrian dialect putting an "l" or "el" at the end of words makes the word "smaller" (like book -> booklet), so "Jimmy Kimmel" to me sounds like "Jimmy little ass crack" and if I would have this name I would not make fun about other names

kdjgldfkj

Out of the Blue 03

Rated: M

Warnings: Explicit vulgar hybrid smut, knotting, dirty talk.

Summary: Jungkook has only ever thought of his breeding clients as just that - clients, and he’s always quite indifferent to them since he only ever knows them for a short period of time. But then you come along, and he starts experiencing feelings that aren’t being manipulated by your heat. Real feelings, that he has never harbored before with anyone else.

Notes: finally part 3 is here!! this one was really tricky. i edited it so much in terms of adding parts, then turning around and taking them back out and just completely removing an entire scene and replacing it with something that flowed better. ugh. i have mixed feelings on this, but it is what it is lmfao i mean all it is is smut so i guess it really doesnt matter. enjoys babes <3

Words: 6.3k

01 | 02 | 03


It was odd, Namjoon thought, at how comfortable you and Jungkook seemed to be around each other, having only known each other for a little over a day. He couldn’t even begin wrap his head around the way ‘natural instincts’ and 'pheromones’ worked between you two, but then again, he was merely just a human. Last night was weird and he couldn’t exactly say he liked it, as he slept alone again for the first time in a very long while, having to keep himself warm without you there being his little heater. 

The first night here was hard, but there was something about last night that was almost unbearable. 

He got little sleep because he couldn’t stop thinking about you, and how you were dealing with sleeping without him these past two nights since you had never done so before, but then he realized you were probably perfectly fine - curled up beside Jungkook, sleeping peacefully with the other’s arms tightly around you. His arms were probably so tight because he was probably afraid someone would try to take you away from him in the middle of the night while you two slept.

Well, that was if you even got any sleep, did your fevers subside long enough for you to get some shut-eye? Or were you two at it all night?

Namjoon shook his head in mild disgust, trying to clear his mind of the unwanted images that started popping up and he looked out of the window, down at the pool where you and Jungkook were playing in the water together. He watched on, a strange sort of jealousy planted in his chest. Could he really not even get one moment alone with you? He just didn’t quite know how to cope with that - didn’t understand how Jungkook could be that possessive.

But again, he was just a human. How could he possibly understand?

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[Image: Comic panels of Clint and Kate smiling at each other and signing “Thanks, Hawkeye”]

Reminder that WE HAVE A CANONICAL HAWKEYE NAME SIGN

ofc these losers use the same name sign (codename sign?)

The Ward....

Originally posted by jonsnowdaily

Request - Reader is one of Ned’s ward’s is secretly in love with Jon but doesn’t know that Robb, Jon and Theon are all fawning over her. 

Pairing - Jon Snow X Female Reader

Wordcount - 5.431

Warnings - Normal Game of Thrones type scenarios. 

A/N - I could do a part two to this


Ned Stark had always been a very kind and gentle man. On a particularly rough stormy night where the wind was so powerful and people struggled to walk through it, Ned was just returning home from a particularly long travel to a place where the disputes had turned from aggressive confrontation to bloody and gruesome battles, Ned had been instructed by King Robert to dissolve the quarrel and quickly, when he had heard the wails of a baby. Ned suddenly became more alert to his surroundings.  As he dismounted his horse, he began to search for the cause for the sound. Ned soon located the sound to find the small baby wrapped very scarcely in a couple of woven blankets. How could anyone leave a baby like this? Ned thought as he scooped the baby into his arms, holding it close to himself in an attempt, to share his warmth. Ned mounted his horse and continued the rest of his short journey home, praying to the old God’s that the baby would survive the cold until he could reach the warmth of the castle.
The God’s have blessed this child, Ned thought as he entered his chambers where his wife laid waiting for him, wrapped in warm furs.

“Ned is that another one of your bastard children that you insist on tormenting me with.” Catelyn snapped at her husband as she pushed the furs away from her body, whether it was to inspect the child further or to injure Ned, he couldn’t be quite sure.  

“Relax my love, this baby is not mine, I found the baby nearby abandoned in the snow. I couldn’t leave it there to suffer and die. The baby is strong, near death and still made it all the way here.” Ned laid the baby down on the furs, it’s skin with a blue tint. Yet as cold as the baby was, it was still curious looking around the room at the strange people. Catelyn, got out of bed, walking over to the baby, the baby turned out to be a little girl, with bright Y/C/E, Catelyn’s gaze melted at the sight. She had always wanted a girl, there was no doubt that Ned and herself would have more children, yet Catelyn was not going to give up the opportunity to have a little girl sooner.

“She certainly is strong, why don’t we take her in as a ward? Let’s call her Y/N, I’ve always thought it was a beautiful name.” Catelyn, picked up the newly named little girl, holding her tightly to her chest.

“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my love. Y/N it is”

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Hockey Gothic
  • Your grandfather tells you “When I was born, Jaromir Jagr had already played 20 seasons.” Your father tells you “When I was born, Jagr had already played 20 seasons.” You look up Jagr on HockeyDB. By the time you were born, Jaromir Jagr had already played 20 seasons.
  • You hum a melody. Everybody hums a melody. You can’t make out the words, but the melody repeats after a short time. “The rest name new can lay, is the foot mold okay name,” it sounds like. You don’t understand.
  • The Leafs are up 11-0 after 2. Tears are running down your face. You know they will lose in the shootout.
  • Ovechkin is loading up his shot. You can see the defense going down one by one. The forwards try to play defense and theydrop, too. They can’t get up again. Ovechkin is still loading up his shot.
  • “Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion,” somebody says. Others are nodding along. The president of the US is live on TV. “Phil Kessel is a Stanley Cup Champion,” he says.
  • A toad croaks. It sounds like “parity.” You look at the toad. Gary Bettman’s face stares back. “Shootout,” it croaks.
  • Your team won. You are happy. Somebody is screaming on Youtube. Your team lost. Somebody is screaming on Youtube. You like, subscribe and tell all your friends. You scream.
  • Somebody takes a shot on an empty net. Carey Price is on the bench. He makes the save. The refs skate to the bench to get the puck. You scream.
  • You can’t make out the print on Don Cherry’s suit. It seems to change while you’re watching. It looks at you. “Good Canadian boys,” the suit says.

anonymous asked:

Any tips for writing the character's personalities and speech? Thank you.

Here’s a piece of unflavored base dialogue vs how it would sound from each of the main 3:

Hello. Thank you for coming to meet me here. I have something important to tell you. First, let’s order something. [order]. Anyway, we have to stop seeing each other. It makes me very sad and I wish it didn’t have to be this way. But what can I do? Choose you over [important life choice]? I can’t do that. I’m sorry, but this is goodbye.

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The Case of the Bed Stranger

Stiles/Derek, T, 1.5K words, College AU

Written for the following prompt: The house party me and my friends threw kinda escalated and after throwing out everyone I found this half naked person passed out in my bed but I can’t be bothered to wake them up now so I’m just gonna go to sleep and deal with it in the morning, they are kind of cute anyway AU


“Erica,” Derek says calmly—very calmly, he thinks, considering the situation. It’s two in the morning, he just trudged back from the library with a pounding headache behind his eyes, and he comes home to find their apartment the site of a raging house party, with drunk undergrads everywhere.

“Hey, Der,” she says, with that wide grin that only comes out when she’s had one drink too many.

“You didn’t tell me you were throwing a party,” he says, his jaw clenched, and she scoffs.

“This? This isn’t a party. This is a, uh, just a little get-together.”

Derek rolls his eyes. “It’s finals, for fuck’s sake. I’m going to bed, at least turn the fucking music down.”

He pushes through the crowd—accidentally hitting some of them with his backpack, oops—and finally seeks refuge in his room. The noise is dulled, blessedly, when he shuts the door behind him, and he exhales, letting his eyes fall shut. His momentary calm evaporates, however, when he opens eyes and notices the very important fact that someone is currently asleep in his bed, sprawled out on his stomach like he owns the place.

All Derek can see is broad bare shoulders, messy brown hair, and half of a mole-dotted face, pressed into the pillow and currently slack with sleep. Huh.

Derek sighs. He’s fucking exhausted, he doesn’t want to deal with babysitting some drunk kid right now, and he really doesn’t want him to wake up and then throw up in Derek’s bed or something.

Plus, the traitorous little voice in his head says, he’s really cute.

Derek shakes his head, irritated, as he drops his backpack on his desk chair. He strips down to his boxers and skips brushing his teeth—he’ll do it twice in the morning, and people are probably fucking the bathroom anyway, Jesus Christ.

Derek pulls back the comforter and gently slides into the bed, trying not to disrupt the mattress before he realizes that he’s being ridiculous. Why is he even considering a stranger’s comfort? It all seems for naught, anyway, because this kid apparently sleeps like the dead.

He takes a quick peek under the blankets, and at least the guy’s still wearing briefs, thank god. Derek doesn’t want to have to worry about accidentally sexually assaulting someone in his sleep.

He flops over onto his other side—thanks to the king size bed, his only grad school indulgence, there’s plenty of room—and closes his eyes. He’ll deal with this shit in the morning.

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Whipped...friends??

Y/N would have never imagined the amount of attention being Harry’s best friend would bring. There’s also always speculations, suspicions that the two might be more than friends, given the fact that when they go out, it’s like they might as well be joined at the hip. Where Harry is on a day off, Y/N is sure to follow, and the paparazzi gets pictures of it all. But Y/N’s always been just a friend. It’s not like she trails behind him like a puppy, no. Harry just always loves having her around, finds comfort in the way she talks to him without a hint of glorification. Tracing back to the beginning of their friendship, Y/N didn’t tip toe around Harry, trying to make sure to not say the wrong thing, never really made impressing Harry a priority. And Harry really appreciated that.

And the relentless bother and questions of “are you two dating?” doesn’t end with the public, no, it continues, and probably gets more intense coming from their group of friends.

Whenever Y/N steps away from Harry’s side, there’s always one of the boys whispering to him about how they’re sure she’s got him wrapped around her pretty little finger. How at the call of his name, Harry never thinks twice about dropping everything and tending to her wants and needs. They make it sound awful in a way, as if Y/N is always needy of Harry and demanded his attention. But they don’t mean it like that really, just like bothering him about it, specially because he gets all worked up in trying to defend her.

They even comment about how they’ve taken notice to the fact Harry’s smile can stretch for miles at the mention of her name, which Harry has never denied. Only nods his head in amusement at the fact others notice.

And maybe their secret little escapes to what they refer to as “friend dates” are no help. They’ll be having a night in on the sofa, Harry sat at the edge of it, elbow propped on the arm rest, mindlessly scrolling through texts and thumbs swift on the screen, typing replies to friends. And obviously Y/N’s with him, lying down and feet resting on his lap, her head flat on the cushion, eyes shut because she quite enjoys just lying about in a silent room, knowing Harry’s there. And it’s not until he shuffles to stand up, pushing her legs off him in the process, that she opens her eyes and follows his body across the room where he doubles over to slip on his YSL boots before he goes for his coat. With a small whisper of “ye’ comin’?” Y/N is sure to follow his steps. Most nights like that they end up in some random bar or restaurant, sat on a stool or a booth, laughing and eating. Harry will often opt to sit next to her rather than in front, taking the chance to lay his head on her shoulder. Even kiss at her neck sometimes.

And when the boys catch a glimpse of the paparazzi photos taken of them all cuddly on a random Tuesday night at a local cafe, Harry’s phone just about overloads with texts from Niall going on about “I knew it!” And “just ask her, man!”

So no, it’s not out of the ordinary for Louis to make a ‘wuh-PSSSH’ sound followed by something snarky like “so whipped, mate. And she’s not even ye’ girlfriend,” when he notices Harry’s stare trailing to where Y/N goes as she makes breakfast for the lot. Harry tries to disregard the comment as Louis takes a seat next to him at the kitchen island.

“What’re you guys going on about over there?” Y/N asks, giggling to herself, “got Harry blushing and all.”

And of course with no chill what so ever, Liam pats Harry on the back, a devilish smile playing on his lips, “Harry here has found himself head over heels.”

Y/N can’t deny that her heart sinks a little at that, but she doesn’t let it faze her, or at least she doesn’t show it. “Really?? Oh who is she??”

“Yeah, Harry! Tell our lovely Y/N who’s the lucky woman!” Harry would hope Niall would be the one not to indulge in his current tormenting.

But Harry can only look at Y/N, her eyes locked on his from across the room. And Harry swears he’s never seen her look at him the way she is right now.

And the boys don’t mean to over tease him this time, just wish he’d finally let it out and tell her because they’re rather sure Y/N feels the same. It’s hard not to notice the way she looks at him, eyes full of adoration and dare they say, love.

When the air has fallen silent for far too long, Liam decides to change the subject for Harry’s sake and stands up to give Y/N a hand with the pouring of the beverages.

“You two have gotten to the point where you grocery shop together.” Liam starts again when Y/N steps away for more milk, “you cook together. You do laundry together. You’re always going on dates. You go with her for manis and pedis, and I’m sure you enjoy it, too.”

“So wha’?? I like spendin’ time with her.” Harry doesn’t really see why that’s so bad, being whipped and all.

“You sleep together,” Louis chimes in, “hell, wouldn’t be surprised if you showered together.”

Now that’s just nonsense.

“Sod off ye’ prick.”

***

It’s been a few weeks since the day Y/N found out Harry’s interested in someone. And she’d be lying if she said it doesn’t keep her awake at night. Awake while she’s lying next to Harry because of the fact that they’d much rather sleep together than alone. But when she looks over at him, she can’t help but smile.

She’s lying on her side, eyes tracing his, rid of any wrinkles they get when he smiles or frowns. They trace all of him. From his eyes to his eyebrows, then his cheeks and to his nose, where she kisses lightly, careful not to wake him. He only crinkles it for a short second, to which she only smiles. Her eyes linger down his neck, tracing every muscle and crevice until she’s looking at the tattoos on his chest, the steady rise and fall of it has her breathing adapting to his.

It’s when she looks at his parted bubble gum pink lips that she raises a hand, her index finger ghosting over his bottom lip. The touch has Harry stirring, eyes open for a moment before he puckers his lips to peck her finger, a smile on his face. He flutters his eyes shut for a second before resting his hand on her waist and rubbing his thumb gently on the exposed skin. He moans in content, pulls her body closer to his and rests his lips on her hair line.

“Go t'sleep, pet.”

And why oh why did she ever think some friendly flirting and bed sharing with her best friend could never lead to any emotional attachment.

***

The cuddles haven’t stopped. Harry’s lingering kisses and hugs haven’t stopped. The boys teasing on Harry behind Y/N’s back hasn’t stopped. Y/N sleeping in Harry’s bed hasn’t stopped. And Y/N’s constant self reminder that Harry might just be in love with someone else has not stopped.

If she’s being quite honest, she’s not liking the way the boys snicker and whisper to Harry when she walks off. And she really doesn’t like how whatever and whoever they’re whispering about is making Harry blush and smile sheepishly like crazy. Wishes she knew what they’re always being so secretive about. But giving it a second thought, maybe she doesn’t wanna know. It’s all the same to her now though.

The movie on the telly doesn’t seem to distract her anymore, not from her thoughts which are taking over her mind the more time she spends in Harry’s home. And to add to that, the second she steps back into the room with a bowl of popcorn the boys go silent. It makes her feel awful…left out, but she’s sure they don’t mean to do it. She should be thankful right? At least they’re nice enough not to talk about Harry’s girl in front of her, or maybe that’s just something she wants to believe.

“Oh popcorn.” Niall’s first to reach out and grab a handful before she’s even had the chance to get to her seat next to Harry.

“Thanks, love.” Harry whispers, kissing her cheek the second she sits down.

She notices out of the corner of her eye how Louis smirks and nods his head when Harry wraps his arm around her shoulder. What’s so funny??

The moment Harry presses another kiss to the top of her head is the moment she realizes she’s had enough. It’s the moment she realizes she can’t keep pretending and letting herself fall even more. Not after what Liam said.

“I have to go. It’s getting pretty late.” This catches everyone off guard, especially Harry.

When she stands up to leave, his fingers around her wrist are quick to make her stop and have her look down at him, still sat on the sofa. “Wha’ do ye’ mean? Ye’ always spend the night, poppet.”

His brows are furrowed now, grip tight on her wrist, fearing that if he loosens it she might just slip away.

Of course they can’t ignore the other people in the room though, so when Y/N’s eyes avert to the boys, Harry is quick to stand up and lead them away.

“Everythin’ a'right?” His eyes scan hers for answers, his hand now cupping her neck, thumb rubbing soothingly at her jaw.

The cool of his rings on her skin keep her at ease. But the uncertainty in her eyes has Harry feeling all types of useless.

“Tell me wha’s wrong, little one. Wha’ can I do to make ye’ feel better?”

And those words would have made no sense if it wasn’t for the sudden feeling of Harry wiping away a stray tear she didn’t notice she’d shed.

She can’t. She can’t break down. Not in front of him. What can she say for him to let her go??

“Nothing’s wrong, Harry.”

But she’s sure he doesn’t believe her, not one bit. He knows her too well.

And she can tell he’s about to say something else, and she knows if she lets him, she’s sure to fall back into whatever they have.

“I’ve really got to go. I’ve got a date in an hour and I have to go get ready.”

As much bullshit of an excuse as that is, Harry’s grip on her wrist loosens, and the hand on her neck falls.

And she takes the opportunity to slip out the door.



Whipped…friends?? Or.. (Part Two)

Parallels

Originally posted by donewithjeon

 Taehyung x Reader

soulmate au, angst, sort of historical au?

 5.1K words

If there was one thing you were certain of, it was that the purpose or your existence was to love Kim Taehyung, and his was to love you. Throughout countless lifetimes the two of you have longed for each other, but just like parallel lines, though your souls always seemed to be travelling in the same direction, it was impossible that they could ever meet and become one.

Author’s Note: This was inspired by the Fallen series which I read when I was like 12 lmao


You were no longer sure who, or where, you had been the very first time you laid your eyes on Kim Taehyung.

So many lifetimes blurred together into one, your existence was so scattered throughout time you had begun to lose track of it.  But in each life, no matter who you were, regardless of whether you lived a life of luxury or one of extreme poverty, he was always there. Your existences were irreversibly intertwined.

You didn’t know why. You didn’t know how. You had no clue if there were others in the world who lived through multiple existences, or if any of them remembered each individual life the way you did. In no life had you ever dared ask, for fear of sounding crazy or being whisked away to the closest asylum.

In some lives you were close to him. In a few, you even grew up as childhood friends. You remembered those lives more clearly than most. One in particular that you remembered with a shocking clarity was England in the 1600s. Your family lived on and ran a small farm out in a tiny rural village. It had been a tough life, getting up at the brink of dawn every morning and not returning from the fields until the sun finally dropped behind the earth, but the hard work paid off and there was always a sufficient amount of food. You could still feel the wonderful sensation of the cool, crisp early morning air against your skin, even now.

Taehyung’s family had owned a bakery and every morning, just as you set out to work the fields, his mother would send him round to deliver bread in exchange for milk.

Even from a young age, you’d felt the pull towards him, that feeling which was now so painfully familiar. He was like a magnet, he could only be resisted for so long before you had no choice but to give in.

For some reason, you’d thought in that life that perhaps things would be different, perhaps it wouldn’t end in the same fashion that all the others had. You were no longer sure what had caused you to think this, maybe getting to spend so long by his side had lured you into a false sense of safeness. You weren’t as foolish now as you had been then. You’d learnt the hard way that there were never any exceptions.

You still dreamt about that life sometimes. You dreamt about the way the long honey coloured strands of wheat matched his eyes and the sound of his laughter getting caught between trees in the nearby forest as you played together. But more vividly, you were haunted by the shy, gentle first touch of your lips to his, you were tormented by that fleeting moment of happiness that had existed just before everything crumbled away to dust.

In other lives, however, Kim Taehyung was painfully out of reach. One of you would be of a much higher status than the other, meaning any attraction you felt was forbidden. You could recall a few lives where you ended up being born into a wealthy family and Taehyung had been employed by your family in some way. He had once been a gardener, and another time a cook, and you were fairly sure he had also been a stable boy at some point. But you hated those lives the most. Any interaction with him was dialled down to a minimum and it made your chest ache awfully. Those lives were made of nothing but longing glances and sad smiles.

Kim Taehyung never seemed to remember you. Unlike you, he seemed blissfully unaware of the fact that he had lived hundreds of times before, and that you had been present in each and every one of those existences.

Needless to say, it was heartbreaking to look into the eyes of the man you’d loved for centuries and for him to have absolutely no clue who you were. But it was even more heartbreaking to watch as he fell hopelessly in love with you. The dreadful cycle was doomed to repeat over and over, possibly for eternity.

Because the two of you could never be together.

In every life, without fail, the first kiss with Kim Taehyung was also always the last. You’d spent so many days and nights in complete anguish, wondering why the two of you had been cursed with such a cruel fate.

Because after every first kiss with Kim Taehyung, your body would burst into flames.

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yes it's another humans are space orcs post

So even when you’ve figured out how to deal with humans, it still really helps to be able to anticipate that you’re going to have to deal with humans, and there’s still a major pitfall when you’re operating in mixed-species environments where most people are operating as private individuals rather than as representatives of their respective species or planets:

Humans are so good at social modeling, and human naming conventions are such a mess, that it can be really hard to recognize that a person is human until you actually see a visual of them. Some of them include species on their profiles or biographies, but some skip right past species and list location of childhood home or racial/ethnic background or something instead, like everyone else is just supposed to know that the colony on Zendar Three is a human colony or what “latina” means. Some even make a point of not listing their species.

They pick up languages like nobody’s business. It might take an adult years to reach full fluency in a language - or they might pick it up in a matter of months, if they put their mind to it, and the subadults often don’t even require instruction or study. Even the ones who depend on automatic translation technology tend to be fussy about calibration and sounding as much like natural speakers as possible. In general, they put a lot of emphasis on being able to imitate the social manner of the group; many make a study of the social mores of species they intend to interact with, but even if they’re caught unprepared, most will to some extent mimic the attitude and approach of the people they interact with.

And the names. Most people will say that the typical human has a personal name and a family or clan name, and that’s… more or less accurate. Except that sometimes they list them the other way around. And sometimes they only have a personal name. Or they have multiple family names. And a lot of the time they have a kind of secondary personal name that they don’t even use, but not always, and some have as many as three or four of these “middle names.” There are lists of traditional human names that you can learn, but none of them are exhaustive, because almost every human population center and cultural group has its own traditional names and also humans are constantly adapting old names and inventing new ones.

Even if someone has a name that you recognize as being a traditional name of some other species, that isn’t a 100% guarantee that that person isn’t human. Because there’s such a wide variety of human names, there’s some overlap with other species names, to the point that it’s a kind of played out joke that the token human character in popular media has to be specified to be Human Steve. Plus in a lot of human cultures, one of the highest expressions of respect toward a person is to give that person’s name to one’s offspring, so there’s a small but significant number of humans with names that are definitely not human names because their parents chose to honor an alien friend or benefactor with a namesake.

Some humans are amused to be assumed to be another species. Some don’t seem to care, or are apologetic, apparently assuming that the confusion must be embarrassing or upsetting to the other party. A few get offended, but the other humans tend to agree that those ones are jerks and you shouldn’t feel bad about it.

Elsewhere University- Feathers

Like a whole bunch of other people, I saw @charminglyantiquated ’s Elsewhere University Comic and got SUPER INSPIRED. And since she’s so generously encouraging other people to play in her sandbox, I present ‘Feathers’.  EDIT : PART 2 HERE

You go to Elsewhere University. You’ve been going to Elsewhere University for (years and years and years and years) for three years now. You know how things are. You’re not an RA, but… Mm, you could have been.

Might still be. Aren’t yet.

This is your junior year (you think). You know how things are. You carry salt in one pocket, iron in another, trinkets to bargain away in your book bag, offerings in your purse, pearls around your neck.

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in a world where you have your true love tattooed on one wrist and your sworn enemy on the other, and you dont know which is which...

CINDER
-k so her wrists are obviously kai and levana
-and when she was little she thought Kai was some terrible person she would loathe bc true love could mean romantic love or platonic love or familial love and Aunt Levana would never hurt her!!! Right???
-So she would follow around Levana, trying to spend as much time with her as possible, bc she knew her and Aunt Levana would have the most incredible aunt-niece relationship ever.
-hahaha but post-almost being burned alive, Peony is obsessed with Cinder’s wrists bc Kai!!! Like the prince!!!!!!
-meanwhile Pearl and Adri scornfully remind her that Kai is a common name, its probably some peasant
-and Cinder tries her best to stay impartial. Her gloves not only hide her cyborg hand but her tattoos as well, and she actually forgets about them for a long period of time….
-and then she meets the prince. And oh shit. Ohhhh shitttt
-cinder isnt the best at romantic interaction, and she cant tell if that was flirting?? He probably hates her, shes a cyborg…
-and the mission to figure out whats on his wrists begins
-but why is he always wearing long sleeves??
-and the night of the ball, she finally sees one of his wrists! and it says levana. Oh dear
-so all of a sudden shes in jail and kai and levana are getting married and her place is quite clear…but why is levana the other name on her wrist?
-so what keeps cinder going, all throughout scarlet and cress, is that they have to be soulmates. Theres no other way.

KAI
-hes got Cinder/Levana
-and when hes a little kid and hasnt met either, he always kinda hopes cinder is the true love because the name just sounds so much…warmer
-then the whole arranged marriage starts happening and kai’s like…idk bout this…but the wrists dont lie…
-but then he meets cinder and its just!!! marry me!!!
-and then he realizes it…one of these girls is his sworn enemy…
-shit shit shit shit shit shit shit
-but things seem to solve themselves when Cinder is arrested and becomes known as a terrorist
-except levanas definitely not his soulmate? Bc most soulmates dont want to kill you…
-and so its an internal battle because besides the wrists he knows both have glamours powerful enough to control his feelings
-some nights he lays in his bed and just kinda cries bc he doesnt know whats real anymore
-but when they kidnap kai from the wedding and theres finally some time to talk to cinder, she shows him her wrists
-and theyre like “either its u and me or we re fighting to the death over levanas affection”
-so that becomes an inside joke of theirs, and kais always like “hahaha im winning” leading up to his marriage w levana
-but they act like in love idiots throughout winter bc they now theyre soulmates

Thats kaider for yall, imma do the other ships on other posts to avoid longness

HOW TO IDENTIFY A SLAVIC LANGUAGE AT A GLANCE?

■ Broadly speaking, Slavic languages can be divided into those using the Cyrillic alphabet and those using the Latin alphabet, but in truth each language has developed its own modified alphabet. These language-specific letters and diacritic signs can serve as surefire clues, but unfortunately the task is much harder with speech, since accents and dialects tend to confuse even the most skilled listeners.

So how do you tell Slavic languages apart?

The Cyrillic alphabet:

BELARUSIAN – ў

■ Belarusian is the only language which uses the letter ў. It sounds similar to an English ‘w’, and the Latin transcription is ‘ŭ’. It is most often encountered in word endings equivalent to the Russian -ov or –ev suffixes, e.g., last names like Быкаў (Bykaŭ) or Някляеў (Nyaklyayeŭ).

UKRAINIAN – ї and є

■ ıf you see an ï amidst Cyrillic letters, you’re most likely reading Ukrainian. This letter is pronounced /ji/, and should not be confused with ‘i’ (/i/), or with ‘й’ (/j/) and ‘и’ (/ɪ/), which all look and sound slightly different.

Ukrainian is also the only language with the letter є ‒ in Russian the corresponding ‘э’ character faces the other way…

BULGARIAN – ъ

■ Ъ is a solid hint that you’re looking at Bulgarian ‒ it even pops up in the name of the country: България.  Though this letter (called ‘yer golyam’/‘ер голям’) also appears in Russian and other Slavic languages, it is not used frequently, whereas it appears regularly in Bulgarian. This is perhaps because it is silent in other Slavic languages, but in Bulgarian it symbolises a schwa sound (like the ‘u’ in ‘turn’). Make sure you don’t confuse it with the soft sign, ‘ь’.

Additional hint: ата is a frequent grammatical ending in Bulgarian.

SERBIAN – ђ and ћ

■ The similar ђ (dzhe) and ћ (tshe) are evidence you’re dealing with Serbian. Serbian Cyrillic doesn’t have many of the letters used in Russian Cyrillic; forget about ‘ё’, ‘й’, ‘щ’, ‘ъ’, ‘ы’, ‘ь’, ‘э’, ‘ю’, and ‘я’. If you want to tell Serbian apart from Russian, you can also look for љ (ly’) њ (ny’) and џ (dʒ), but these are also present in Macedonian.  

MACEDONIAN – Ѓ and Ќ  

■ Macedonian is the only language with the letters Ѓ and Ќ. The little accents over these Cyrillic letters are a surefire way to tell Macedonian apart from Serbian. The letters stand for sounds similar to the English [dʒ] and [t͡ʃ] – the latter sounding really Chinese.

Additionally, Macedonian features the letter ‘s’ [d͡z], which otherwise does not occur in the Cyrillic alphabet.

RUSSIAN

■ Famous for its inverted letters, Russian is probably the most recognizable Slavic language out there. On the other hand it is quite easy to confuse it with Ukrainian, Bulgarian or Serbian, so if you have a full sentence on your hands, it’s best to proceed by elimination using all the tips mentioned above.

The Latin alphabet:

POLISH – ł

■ If you see the letter ł with the characteristic slash through it, you’re looking at Polish. Ą and ę (which are nasal consonants) are also giveaways but be careful, both letters are also in the Lithuanian alphabet (which is not a Slavic language). Digraphs like ‘sz’, ‘cz’, and ‘dz’, sometimes combined into consonant clusters like ‘prz’, ‘trz’, and ‘szcz’, are clues, but watch out for Hungarian, which has similar consonant clusters.

SLOVAK – ä

■ Slovak is the only Slavic language to use ä, or ‘a s dvoma bodkami’ as the Slovaks call it. It comes up in words like ‘mäso’, ‘sôvä’, ‘rýbä’ (meat, owl, fish) and is pronounced like the English ‘a’ sound in ‘bad’. The same goes for ŕ, which is not used in any other Slavic language.

CZECH – ů

■ The Czech and Slovak alphabets are really similar. To tell them apart, look for the tiny difference in the diacritic sign over the letter r – where Slovak uses ‘ŕ’, the Czech letter has a tiny hook: ř. Also, if you see the letter ů, it’s Czech.

CROATIAN – đ

■ Written Croatian can appear hardly discernible from Slovenian, Czech or Slovak, with which it shares the letters as ‘č’, ‘š’, and ‘ž’, it has an easy distinctive feature ‒ the so-called crossed đ. [dʑ]

BOSNIAN

■ The Bosnian alphabet is indistinguishable from Croatian. To identify the language you would have to dig much deeper and look for differences in vocabulary since Bosnian has some unique words, mostly of Persian and Arabic origin.

SLOVENIAN

■ Slovenian, which is the westernmost Slavic language, is also the most discrete in terms of alphabet. In fact, it has only three special characters, ‘č’, ‘š’, and ‘ž’, which also appear in Czech, Slovak and Croatian. Again, your best bet is to proceed by elimination. (culture.pl)