i know every line word for word

“What was she like?” My mother asked trying not to pry to much but always failing.


“Beautiful was she?” she said.

“Yes. Absolutely beautiful.”

“But I wouldn’t describe her as strictly beautiful. Cause well she more than beautiful. She was funny, smart, down to earth, rewarding, thoughtful and beautiful. She was every nice word in the dictionary. Admiring, charismatic, appealing and down right unforgettable once you knew her. Even if you didn’t know her she was unforgettable cause even if you talked to her for 5 minutes while waiting in line for coffee it felt like talking to an old friend. So yeah… she was beautiful or gorgeous. Whatever word you choose to your liking. But she was never just strictly beautiful.”

“So what do you call her then? What do you call her if she is every good thing that’s happened to you.” My mother asked.

“Extraordinary. She was extraordinary”

—  Love, heartbreak & everything in between.// Deeply feeling series

hi! i’m shout. im a freelance pixel artist. ive been around for like 4 years now helping people make video games and sometimes things that arent video games. anyway, i specialize in stupid anime bullshit

i’m opening commissions to tumblr again for pixel art, for gamedev and otherwise, which really just means that i’ll do like standalone avatar portraits and vanity shots if you pay me, too

(it went well the first time, so the second round should be even better, right?)

my rates start at 10usd / 32x32 sprite + 5usd / additional animation frame / tile + 20usd / character design, but for large projects like video games ive been known to put out discounts and for very complicated characters (like, for instance, if you want me to draw and animate a 64x64 tetsuya nomura character) (’ses zippers) i tend to markup. i also markup slightly for sprites with a larger base resolution then 32x32, but can do pretty much any scale from like 8x8 to like 96x96 (and really at that point it’s not even pixel art anymore, just really fuckin small raster art)

(if you want, i can usually provide sketches of any characters you have me design, as well)

i’m also an experienced game maker dev (going on like, 6 years at least) so inquire within about other gamedev work, in case you want my expertise (not just my art) (please do both, though) on a game you’re working on

if you have questions, dont be afraid to just speak up, by the way! like, i dont bite. i mostly just talk about cel animated anime and say the word ‘xabungle’ over and over like im trying to summon it in a mirror

you can also reach me at shout#6597 on discord, and shoutscion@gmail.com if you genuinely enjoy writing and sending emails or somethin

Advice for native speakers of a language when encountering foreigners learning their language

Of course this is aimed at people who want to help others learn their native language. It’s based on personal experiences from when I first came to France. If the language learner you meet is advanced and speaks fluently you might not have to do any of these. But I think they’re good to keep in mind when meeting new language learners.

1. Slow down a bit. Don’t do that thing often shown in movies where people speak super loud and as if in slow motion. Speaking super slow doesn’t help much with understanding or learning and shouting is useless unless you’re in a noisy environment. Just slightly slow down your normal talking speed, it makes it easier to recognize more individual words and phrases. And maybe dial down on colloquialisms a bit at first.

2. Give the person time to process what you said. Sometimes it can take a few moments to realize what was just said to us when we don’t speak the language well (even if the person is speaking slower than their normal speed). So don’t just assume the person didn’t understand you if they don’t respond immediately, give them a moment first.

3. Ask if they understood what you said once in a while. Also offer to repeat or explain things. Some people won’t have a problem letting you know if they didn’t understand a word or a phrase, but others might feel bad asking you to repeat yourself multiple times (I know I do). So just ask every once in a while to make sure they’re still following you.

4. Use simple words to explain things. If the person is just starting out with their language learning then they don’t have a large vocabulary so using unnecessarily long sentences filled with fancy words will just confuse them even more. Simpler is always better.

Example: I once had to call a phone company’s help line to resolve an issue. I told the person I didn’t speak French very well, carefully explained the problem and he spent ten minutes talking at normal speed, explaining something to me and I didn’t understand a word. When I told him I didn’t understand he spent even longer repeating what he said and going in even more detail and I still had no idea what he was saying. I was too embarrassed and didn’t want to spend twenty more minutes on the phone with this guy so I just told him I got it and hung up. The next time I called, someone else answered and they explained it to me clearly in a fraction of the time and I understood them perfectly.

So keep your explanations short and simple.

5. If they can’t think of a word in your language and say it in another language you have in common, tell them the word in your language before moving on with the conversation. So many times people have just nodded in understanding and moved on with the conversation without telling me the French word when I’ve used an English word for something in the middle of a sentence. It can be a bit frustrating to have to interrupt the conversation to ask for clarification after every sentence (and for those of us on the shy and/or socially anxious side it’s also nerve-wracking). Conversations will flow much smoother if you just throw in the translation of the word in your language and then move on. Also

6. Don’t automatically switch to another common language after they use a word or a phrase from that language when they can’t think of them in your language. Ask first. It might be easier for both of you, but it doesn’t help them learn your language. If you want to practice that other language with them then make a deal about when you’re going to speak which language with each other. That way you’ll both get to practice your target language. So just ask them if they want to continue in that language, but don’t switch without asking. Again, some people will be more than comfortable in telling you which language they’d rather be speaking in, but others might not.

That’s all I can think of for now. Feel free to add your own advice

I Can't Take It!

            “I can’t bloody take it anymore!” Were the words screamed in Draco’s face as he opened the door. He blinked rapidly at the fuming redhead in front of him. Weasley. That was someone he hadn’t seen in years, not since the final battle.

            “Excuse you?” Draco reprimanded with an arched brow. He honestly had no idea what was happening here. He must have mixed up his ingredients when making his potion this morning, causing a severe hallucination. Because that was the only explanation his mind could come up with at the moment.

            “At first, I thought I was just delusional, seeing things where there was nothing but I know I’m not.”

            Draco blinked rapidly as he too concluded the man was delusional. Something he had always known to be true.

            “You keep writing books about Harry!”

            Every rational thought left the blonde as dread filled his stomach. There was no way that Weasley had figured it out. His mother was blissfully unaware of who his muse was, his friends were just as clueless, all wondering who could possibly be the one he was desperately pining after. The whole world was blind but yet Weasley had discovered his secret?

            “Don’t give me that look!” Weasley spat hotly. “It’s just so obvious. I don’t understand why no one but me thinks so! I see your stupid books everywhere. Witches giggle in their offices at work, completely engrossed in your horribly sappy novels.” A pause as a freckled nose wrinkled in disgust.

            “I can’t go into Diagon Alley without seeing your ugly face plastered from every window, advertising this travesty.”

            Ugly? Draco huffed angrily as he listened somewhat impatiently to the hogwash spewing out of Weasley’s mouth.

            “My own wife reads them and badgers me incessantly about reading them too!”

            That had Draco wincing, he wasn’t sure how he felt about Granger reading his works. It was a little uncomfortable, if he was being honest.

            “I can’t even go to my parents without seeing your entire collection stacked against the wall. My mother reads them!” A pitiful moan escaped. “My own mum!”

            A trickle of amusement was making its way inside of Draco. Oh, he was still annoyed and ticked off but seeing Weasley in so much distress because of him, was lifting his spirits.

            “I have put up with this for years and I can’t take it anymore!” Weasley took a step forward, which Draco was loath to admit made him want to take a step back. The man was clearly mental.

            “You have to tell Harry how you feel.” Begged the disturbed wanker. “I can’t take another novel. I can’t take the pining! I can’t take the whining! I can’t take another fucking thing! If I have to listen to one more person tell me how ‘wonderfully heartbreaking’ your stories are, I will either murder you, Harry or myself.” A pause. “And I can’t honestly tell you which one of us is at the forefront of that. Perhaps I will kill us all and be done with it.”  

            Threats weren’t something new to Draco but this was the first time he had been on the receiving end of one done so vehemently.

            “I’m an Auror.” Weasley unnecessarily reminded him, as if he hadn’t been aware of this. “I know how to murder someone and make it appear as an accident. They’ll never find your body.” The sheer conviction in the promise was almost staggering.

            Draco rolled his eyes as he looked to the sky, debating about hexing the crazy redhead.

            “Are you finished?” He drawled with an exaggerated yawn, hoping to get rid of Weasley.

            Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. “You know what is the worst part of all of this?”

            The question was obviously rhetorical but Draco shook his head anyways, hoping this would be the last thing said on the topic.

            “Harry loves your books.”

            Draco’s breath caught in his throat as he swallowed heavily and looked away from Weasley for the first time.

            “He talks about them constantly, mentions his favorite parts, grins goofily as he reads your novels in public. Every single book is handled with care and patience. He adores them and you by extension.”

            Words had long ago left Draco, he didn’t know what to say at all. Couldn’t think of anything. For someone who made a living off of words and formulating beautiful lines, this was almost embarrassing.

            “I don’t like you.” Weasley continued on. “Never have and might not ever will.”

            Again, Draco rolled his eyes. The feeling was entirely mutual.

            “But.” The man whispered softly. “It’s painfully obvious that you love Harry.” Blue eyes searched his and Draco felt as if his blackened soul was being judged.  

            “The things you write deserve to be said not just written. Harry deserves this, deserves this kind of attention and deserves the love you put into those stupid pages.” There was a slight reddening of Weasley’s cheeks. It was obvious he despised complimenting Draco on his books.

            “Just do something. Please. While I can’t take another one of your books, I really can’t take Harry’s self-deprecating responses as to why it just isn’t possible that he is the target of your obsession.”

            He would have liked to rudely point out that it wasn’t an obsession but he was distracted with the rest of the statement.

            Weasley took a deep sigh. “Just think about it.” As violently as the conversation began, it ended with a soft whisper and pleading eyes.

            Draco watched Weasley walk slowly away from his front door, so slowly that it was obvious he was hoping to be called back.

            This was life changing. He could slam the door and pretend that this whole disaster had been a hallucination and never think about it again… or he could take a Gryffindor plunge into bravery and do what the characters in his books do, which was get their man.

            “Weasley!” Draco called out, making his decision. “Get your horrid arse back here.”

            The way red brows arched, silently asking for more, had Draco huffing. Who knew the man was a sadist too?

           “Help me ensnare a Gryffindor.“

           A frighteningly wicked grin appeared on the redhead’s face, causing Draco to question if he had just sold away his soul to a starving Dementor. Merlin, help him. 

If you are interested in the rest of the story, part two and three are finished. Or if you would like to just skip ahead to the completed story, here you go

Part TwoPart Three   ,  A03 Author Page 

What if I can’t love you the way you deserve to be loved? Maybe that’s why we should go our separate ways and that this is a good thing, maybe that’s the silver lining.

You deserve someone who can give you more than you could ever know, more than this world could ever offer. You carry a very beautiful soul that should be cherished with every inch of love that exists, even if you don’t believe that.

And maybe I can’t do any of that.

Maybe it’s just not me.

—  c.f. // “I guess this time it was me”
Surprising Secret; H.S.

To say that I was just a little bit nervous, was quite the understatement. But walking around with just my lingerie, covered by a large trench coat, also felt… quite empowering. I forgot that I had matters to attend to before I’d be seeing Harry tonight; being surrounded by so many people and having this little secret to myself; I’ve never felt this way.

My heels click along the sidewalk, a rhythmic beating that only hyped me up more. Only a few blocks and I’d arrive at Harry’s flat, and I’d see just how surprised I could get him with my small gift.

Our meet-ups were irregular, to say the least. But that didn’t take away the thrill that erupted in my body every single time Harry’s name popped up on my phone. It was almost always the same message:

Are you busy tonight? – H.

And the text I had received held just those words. I almost never turned down his offer for some unadulterated obligation-free fun. I can’t remember when it started, or how, but I was willing to just receive bits and snippets of Harry whenever he had the time. I was single, anyway – and not planning on changing that any time soon.

My contemplation is cut short when I see the familiar large front door come into view. I grant myself another big, nerve-calming breath, and take the few steps up.

“Hi love, lovely to see you again.” Harry greets me, smirk plastered on his lips, his body leaning against his slightly opened doorway. “Likewise H. Mind letting me in? It’s quite cold out, as you know.” I wink, immediately pushing through the door and inviting myself in without another word slipped past Harry’s lips.

“There’s something different about you.” Harry comments as he feel him following me into his living room. I come to a halt at the back of his sofa, my fingertips pressing into the divine leather as I wait for him to enter the room as well.

“Confidence can carry you a long way.” I smirk, turning on my heel and resting my ass against the leather. He slowly approaches me – his gaze is penetrating, although I can’t decipher which emotion he holds behind them.
“Apparently so, yeah.”

“Come on, Y/N. Let me take your coat.” Harry smiles genuinely, stepping closer as he holds his hand out. I unbutton the few buttons that keep my secret hidden from Harry, leaving my coat on. “Of course, H.” I smile. The confidence that courses through me isn’t something I knew I possessed, but I wish it would stick with me until the end of time. I haven’t felt this high in forever.

His hands trail towards my shoulders as I spin a circle, letting Harry glide my coat off of my shoulders. I don’t see his face, but I hear his breathing hitch, a small gasp leaving his lips. “It was your birthday someday this year, right?” I laugh, turning back around, licking my lips as I see the fire blazing in Harry’s eyes.

“Once a year, yeah.” Harry stutters, his eyes glued to my frame. I take a step closer, my hands fluttering over his clothed chest before I grasp it, pulling him closer. “I like seeing you all flustered.” I press my lips against his in an urgent manner. I’ve missed him – missed his touch.

There’s something that seems to click in Harry’s mind and he kisses back with even greater force, his hands cupping my ass and pulling me incredulously close. A moan passes from my lips and I lean my lower body closer to his, using his sofa as leverage.

“How I’ve missed – “ a kiss on my neck, “that ass – “ another kiss to my collarbone, “of yours.” Harry mutters in between, sending heat straight to my core. My fingers are grasping onto Harry’s wild locks for dear life; my leg rubbing along his jean-covered thigh.

Instead of trying to come up with a proper answer I tug his shirt off his toned torso in one swift, fluid motion. I’m meddling with the buckle of his belt when a tiny shriek leaves my lips, Harry’s arms lifting me up as he carries me towards his bedroom.

He drops me onto the bed and I bounce back, my hair fanned out across the neatly made bed. “Is this new?” He motions to the only articles of clothing still covering my private parts and with a curt nod, a smirk grows on his features. “I like.”

“Of course you do.” I hook my pointer finger in his boxers and pull him closer. He kicks off his jeans as he leans over me, our lips hooking into another passionate kiss. His fingers skilfully remove the last bits of clothing as I try my best to do the same – failing miserably.

He aids me and covers my whole body with his, hands wandering, lips pressing everywhere, moans slipping from both our lips. I’m not in the mood for foreplay, it’s been too long since we’ve been together and I can’t wait to feel him again.

I do believe he feels the same as he already starts guiding himself in between my legs, his lips stilling on my collarbone. A sigh leaves his lips as he enters me, followed by a low moan passing my own.

His pacing is slow, exploring, as if this is the first time we’ve been together. I know it isn’t, but it does feel like it. I haven’t seen Harry in months, and I was craving his touch with every fibre of my being.

Without giving it a second thought, the words slip from my lips. As soon as they have though, I press my lips together in a thin line, focusing everywhere but on Harry. It’s words I’ve never spoken to him before, although I’ve felt this many times.
“I’ve missed you too, Y/N.”

His teeth sink into the soft skin of my neck while he picks up his pace. His thrusts are quite irregular, as if his mind isn’t with him in the exact moment. I don’t give it another thought as I feel pleasure taking over my body. My fingertips are digging into Harry’s shoulder blades and it edges him on to go even faster.

The only sound filling the air is skin against skin, mixed in with different moans dripping from our tongues. I weave my fingers through his locks once more and give a tight pull, dragging a desperate growling sound from Harry. It causes a shiver to erupt along my naked body and I press my perky breasts against Harry’s hot, flushed chest.

We’re a mingling mess, but it’s just as I love it to be. His hand squeezes my ass roughly and it spirals me even closer to my impending orgasm. I can sense Harry is close to, and to aid him, I start swivelling my hips along his; chasing us closer and closer.

It hits me suddenly, waves of pleasure taking over my body and I chant Harry’s name over and over again as I slowly dwell down from my orgasm. I become aware of Harry still chasing his own, and I pull his body closer against mine. My teeth sink into his shoulder, kitten licking it afterwards.

I slowly drag my lips across his skin towards his ear, again nibbling just the slightest bit on his earlobe before I breathe into his ear; little, heavy moans leaving my lips as I show him just how much I enjoy this moment between us. It seems it’s all that Harry needs as he grunts and stills; his hand gripping my neck tightly, head hidden by my hair.

“That was – I –“ Harry tries to say something, still hidden, and I shut him up as I squeeze both his ass cheeks roughly, growling underneath him. “Hm.”

“I forgot about the sounds you make, Y/n. Damn.” Harry groans as he rolls off me, sprawled against his bedding as his chest heaves up and down at a rapid pace. A giggle passes my lips as I turn onto my side, my nails slowly dragging along his toned abdomen. I see his cock twitch as I do so, Harry’s eyelids fluttering closed.

“Unless you want to go again, right now, I advise you to stop.” Harry moans and I stutter for the shortest moments before moving again. “I don’t think I’d mind that much.”
Harry growls again, pulling my frame close to his. His blunt nails dig into my thigh, slowly dragging up towards my ass before kissing me again.

“Just a second of breath-catching, Y/n. Please.”
“Well okay…” I let out a little whine, my fingertips ghosting along his stomach towards his private regions, lingering there as I see Harry visibly shudder. “I’m not done with you anyway.” I chuckle, dropping my hand all together before reaching for the duvet underneath us.

“Oh, you’re in for a treat.” Harry groans again, kneading my breast in his left palm, tongue wetting his plump lips. I shudder at the anticipation of what the evening might still hold for me.

Fair Ravenclaw

We are Ravenclaw.
We are blue and bronze.
We are the whistling of the wind.
We are clouds and dust.

We are the sunrise and witty lines.
We are the pens that are mightier than the swords.
Sometimes our patience is shorter than our laughs.
Sometimes our words are harder than our bones.
We know. We’ll apologize.
We are the dealers of stories and keepers of legends.
We pay in riddles and trade in ballads.
We are the poems from ancient times and the songs you’ll sing in decades.
And we’ll be just and old and wise.

And forgotten.

Every book has a last chapter.
A last page. A last line. A last word.
And sometimes I don’t want to go.
Sometimes I don’t want to close the book.
I don’t want to forget.
But that’s all I can do, the voice yells at me.
That’s all I am there for.

Sometimes I tell a fairytale. And I stop in the middle.
Sometimes my words are stuck in my throat.
And I look at friends and see them wonder:
Does she really believe all that?
And I can’t help but think:
Should I not believe in it?

And the voice goes:

And it hurts.
So much.

But then you are there.
With hope in your eyes.
And a laugh on your face.
And you are reaching out to me.

And you ask:
“Can you tell me a story?”

And I could cry.

Thank you.
Thank you.
Thank. You.

And I nod.
Because yes.
I believe in this.
In those stories
And fairytales
And myths
And legends
And dreams.

And how they will be told in times of trouble.
How they will be whispered around the fire.
How they will conquer the world long after my story has ended.

But for now…

Let me tell you a story.
Because in the end,
We are all stories.
We are the ravens flying high.
We have our head in the clouds but are down to earth.
So let’s make it count.
I know we can.

{But please, don’t haunt me.}

α вtѕ hαllσwєєn || wєrєwσlvєѕ

genre ➣ supernatural

rating ➣ (s) for safe…for now ;)

summary ➣ you made the mistake of crossing their territory, paying the price by having to play their game of hide and seek. But, with a catch: you have to wear the red hood. 

quote  ➣ “Oh, little red. You better hope we don’t.” 

The night air was cool on all hallows’ eve. Birds were silenced in that particular part of the woods, only because the presence of dominance hushed nature itself. Those parts of the woods belonged to them, and them alone, many years of war and bloodshed earned them the right to say so. The family of seven that thrived in the mansion of melancholy merely watched the moon continue to raise high into the sky, taunting them; as if it knew that even under its luminous glow, they could not change form. 

“Namjoon-hyung, this isn’t fair,” The younger exclaimed, angrily pulling grass from the ground. “On the night where our forms are at their most powerful, and we can’t even use them, what kind of sense does that make?” 

Keep reading

Sickly Sweet

Prompt: You’ve always had a crush on the guy that comes into your cafe. One day Bill finally asks you out. 


Hope you all enjoy the trash I have created. Tell me if I should make a part two and please request.

You put your pen behind your ear straightened your apron. It was three in the afternoon and would come in any second now and order a caramel latte. You always loved the way he licked his lips when ordering as if drinking coffee was a life-threatening decision.

 He strode into the coffee shop and held the door for a pair of giggling girls behind him. You felt heat rise in your cheeks and you swore they were on fire.

 " Hello Y/N,“ he sighed. His cheeks were pink from the cold air outside. His green eyes met yours making your heart flutter.You started thinking about the poems you would write about how his white sweater brought out his eyes. 

“The usual I presume?” you asked coolly. It was so hard to breathe around him. You ventured behind the counter and he followed you. 

“ You’re the only woman that knows me best,” he beamed. It was so pathetic how easily he added color to your cheeks.

 He leaned over the counter, his hands hanging off the other edge. He was only two inches from touching you. 

“ I come in here every day Y/N,” he whispered. With any other person, the whispering would have been creepy and invasive. You didn’t mind that he was invading your space, it was his for the taking. He smelled sweet like expensive cologne and the fresh outside air. It was appalling that someone wore cologne to get coffee. 

 ” I know and it brings me joy,“ you hummed. You glanced and saw a line starting to build up behind him.

” I think you’re extremely beautiful Y/N,“ with every word he leaned closer. “I come here to see your beautiful face and I want to know everything about you,” he continued.  How could you focus on your job when you really wanted to kiss his perfectly shaped lips?

 ” Thanks,“ you mumbled. The lady behind him was complaining about how long he was taking to order. There were too many words and you couldn’t express it all at once.

 ” What are you doing tonight?“ Bill asked. You shrugged and debated whether to tell him the truth. 

” Well you know,“ you said, “thinking about you.” He blushed and turned away. He started searching and digging around in his pockets. 

He frowned, “I forgot my phone. Do you have a pen?“You nodded and took the pen from behind your ear. 

” Is it alright if I write on you?“ you asked. 

He nodded, ‘'You can do whatever you want to me.” You sighed, this was really all too much. Three months of giving him coffee finally paid off.You wrote your number on his pale arm, even putting a small heart at the end.

 ” I’ll call you as soon as your break starts which is?“

” At three,“ you interjected. He nodded and looked at the line behind him. 

“ They’re all dying to taste your lattes I better go,” he smirked. He waved goodbye before he left. You could barely concentrate on the next order. The thought of being with Bill tonight swirled in your mind and your thoughts became tumultuous. 

“You know that is a dog and they can’t understand what you are saying, right?” [Yoongi]

@daegusoftboys said: Min Yoongi + “you do know that is a dog and they can’t understand what you are saying, right?”

The first give away that you weren’t in your own bed was the smell. The distinct, musky scent of a male lingering quietly beneath the notes of freshly washed linen - the fabric softener embedded in the sheets not the same as the one you used. Confused, you stretch your body slightly, arms coming above your head as you drift between sleep and consciousness.

The second was the feeling of a pair of arms wrapping themselves around your torso, tugging you towards them in a sleepy lull. Despite the blank in your mind of who they might belong to, they felt warm and inviting - a comfort your barely half awake state was willing to accept with a hum of happiness.

It was his words that fully woke you. The voice, a complete octave lower than usual and still full of the gravel of sleep, that sent a shiver of memories shooting down your spine as it dawns on you where you’d wound up.

‘You’re awake?’ Yoongi’s voice coos into your ear, his mouth so close to you that his tongue barely misses the shell of it’s flesh. ‘You want to talk about last night?’ You grumble non-committedly in response, arching your back against the softness of the mattress to stretch out the kinks that had occurred during your sleep. You weren’t used to sharing a bed with anyone. Weren’t used to adapting your body to accommodate the presence of another in bed.

You don’t say anything as his palms twist under a t shirt you barely remember him offering you as you’d climbed into his bed, the rise of your hips into his touch telling him everything he needs to know. You had no idea how this had happened. No idea how you’d become so comfortable with his hands on your body, allowing his fingertips to brush against your flesh like they owned you. You were still struggling to place the patchy specs of sporadic moments from last night in an accurate timeline.

It was meant to have been a simple dinner with friends… Namjoon had been the one who had initiated it in the group chat. Hoseok had been the one that had picked the restaurant. Seokjin had been the one that had filled everyone’s glasses, insisting on playing stupid drinking games you were now suspecting he’d rigged. There was no way that you and Yoongi could have actually lost that many times in a row without some kind of intervention. It was Jimin that had insisted on the trip to the noraebang, desperate to sing karaoke and keep the night going… a mutual friend who had encouraged you to sit next to Yoongi… Whether you had grabbed his hand first as you’d exited, or him yours, you couldn’t remember… but you know it had caused the others to cheer loudly.

Then you’d left with him. That had been your decision. You know that for sure. They’d all watched as you’d walked away from the group, the hand of his not gripping yours throwing a peace sign up high much to their amusement. Even now, you understood it was a cover. A masculine show to hide the real fear that had settled into his stomach. He’d been nervous. He’d wanted this for so long. He’d told you as much when he’d kissed you outside the bedroom door, insisting that if you didn’t want to do this, you could stop. But you had. And you did. And so you’d had sex. Great sex. Mind blowingly, multi-orgasmic sex. 

Suddenly, it dawns on you what your location actually meant. He’d taken you back to the dorms. You’d had sex in his bedroom. You were in his bedroom now, the one he shared with… In an instant, you’re wide awake, pushing his hand from underneath your t shirt as you rise to check the spare bed mere meters from your own.

‘Where’s Jin?’ Your voice is laced with panic.

‘Don’t worry…,’ Yoongi’s tone is calm, his arms stretching up to pull you back down next to him. ‘He slept on the couch. It’s fine.’

‘Is everyone here?,’ You question nervously as you fall back into the crook of his arm. ‘I mean… are they going to know what we did?’ Your concern brings a chuckle to his lips, one which he presses against your forehead sweetly.

‘They knew as soon as you left with me.,’ He murmurs, the plump curve of his lips ghosting against the bare skin of your forehead. ‘But they’ve known for months it was going to happen… They’re probably relieved.’ You hated to admit it, but Yoongi was right. The signs had been there ever since you’d met Yoongi, for both you and everyone that had witnessed the progression of your relationship.

A hollow, booming thud echos from the door - a sudden knock, a warning for both of you.

‘You decent?’ It’s Seokjin’s voice, his tone low yet direct. Yoongi doesn’t shift, your intimate position tucked neatly against his half naked chest evidently not a cause for concern.

‘Yeah.’ He grunts in response. The door slowly opens, Seokjin’s face peeking through the gap.

‘I know you’ve got company… Morning, Y/N,’ Seokjin doesn’t flinch as his eyes flick to yours, nodding politely in greeting. ‘… but your dog won’t shut the fuck up.’

‘Holly?,’ Yoongi’s voice questions. ‘Let him in.’ As if on cue, the door opens wider. You raise your torso slightly as you hear the clicking of feet scurrying across the wooden floor. Seokjin retreats without another word, shutting the door and returning whatever resemblance of privacy that offered in a house full of 6 other men.

‘Holly… come here.,’ Yoongi pats the bed, a short yap coming from just out of your range of vision before a sweet, curly brown ball of fluff pops itself onto the covers. You watch in awe as Yoongi begins to pat it, his tongue clicking and soft coos escaping from his throat. ‘Did you miss me? I’m sorry. I just had some important business to attend to last night…’

You’re stuck but this unashamedly soft side of Yoongi, his lip jutting out sweetly as his fingers rub under the chin of the animal, his entire demeanor shifting in it’s presence. You’d caught glimpses of it before - it was what had made him so intriguing and attractive to you. What had proven to you that he was more than the blunt, sarcastic reputation he held and couldn’t shake. And here you were, seeing it so completely and openly.

You do know that is a dog and they can’t understand what you are saying, right?’ As soon as the words have left your mouth with an amused chuckle, you know you’ve said something wrong. Yoongi’s brow furrows, nose crinkling slightly as he thinks carefully about his response to you. His lips press together in a thin line before he settles on his selected words.

‘This is not a dog… This is Min Holly. And I am certain, with every aspect of my being, that he understands every word that is coming out of my mouth perfectly.,’ With that, he stoops to kiss your lips lightly, a smug smile spreading across his face. ‘But don’t worry. You’re really cute, so I’ll forget you even said that…’

Had a real charmer come in tonight. Lady walks in asking to do a return on a 10 dollar steak that was grey on the bottom. “No problem” i say, “i just need the reciept and the food you want to return.” So she hands me her reciept and its just the most crumpled up thing i have ever seen. Like she picked it up off the floor. Red flag #1 right off the bat.

Red flag #2 was that she didn’t have the steak anyways, so shes asking for a refund on an item that wasn’t even there.
Her-“Well i called the corporate number and they told me to come here!” (Fun fact: it wasn’t corporate, that was our fax number she just gave us)
Me- “Do you know who it was, because i never recieved a call about anything like that (and they ALWAYS call with returns that large)
Her- “i don’t know it was some older lady! Look can i get my money or not?!”

So I call the manager cause i don’t wanna get in trouble just in case she was in the right, and go off to do some closing duties. After a bit, she leaves in a fit of rage. I go and asked what happened and it turns out that she was trying to scam us. I guess in my neighborhood people have been taking reciepts people threw away, look for anything expensive, and then try and get a refund from it. The biggest markers of which being:

*“Oh, well i just found the reciept!”
*“I called corporate and they told me to come here! No i don’t know the name of the store i bought it at or who i talked to on the phone!”
*“Look, i live very far from here can i just get my money and go?”
And guess who said every single one of those lines, almost word for word?

The best part is she actually had the nerve to get my managers name and store location, just so she can bitch to corporate about a purchase she never made. Yeah sure thing sweetcheeks, see where that gets you.

For the love of all that’s good and pure in this godforsaken world, do not think about sherlock and john slow dancing in the middle of their living room, barefoot, in the golden late afternoon light, with “the way you look tonight” playing in the background.  Do not dare think about Sherlock singing softly in John’s ear “you’re lovely, with your smile so warm and your cheeks so soft, there is nothing for me but to love you..”, and John replying with the next few lines “And that laugh that wrinkles your nose, it touches my foolish heart..”  And above all else do not imagine sherlock dipping john and whispering against his neck “cause I love you, just the way you look tonight”, punctuating every word with brief, cute, feathery kisses while john chuckles giddy and light-headed from the overwhelming exhilaration of their love ❤️

Writing woes

Warning for probable tiny-violin playing and entitled whining. I’m sorry.

I need some help.

Lately I’ve been feeling really, really off about my writing. I have a 12x12 coda sitting around and I don’t even want to put it up. I have things on the burner that I’m not writing. And the other day someone commented very sweetly on a fic of mine and when I went to respond I saw that it had at least 4 typos. And the writing itself was so… garbage. 

I mean it’s all so list form - A happened. Then B. Then C. 

It’s so utterly dull and uninspiring and I hate every single word I’ve put down so much that if it wasn’t on the internet I’d probably flounce dramatically and put it all in a fire. 

I enjoyed writing.. at the start. I didn’t know what I was doing so I was happy to just do it. But now I know what BAD WRITING is, and most of mine comes under that category so now I’m just freaking out over every word I put down. 

It’s just. somewhere down the line I’m not enjoying it anymore. I care too much about how it’s supposed to be than just letting it flow and I know that’s wrong but I also don’t know how to break the habit.

So what I want help with now is -

What do I do?

Should I take a break for a couple of weeks? Or fake it till I find my mojo again?

What do you guys do?


Awakened Destiny- Part 6

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5

You’d been driving for just over an hour until Steve pulled the car into what looked like some abandoned warehouse. Your eyes moved to Bucky’s head resting on your shoulder before you gave him a gentle nudge, waking him before the car stopped.

It took no time before Steve quickly got out to open your door, giving you a small reassuring smile and a nod to Bucky. You grabbed Buck’s hand as you pulled yourself out of the car, your head turning as you heard the loud engine of the impala; watching as Sam and Dean pulled up behind you. You always loved that damn car.

“This way” Sam Wilson yelled out so Sam and Dean could hear as he walked ahead of you, reaching to the bottom of the roller door and pulling it up to reveal the inside of the warehouse.

Bucky wrapped an arm around your shoulder as you walked inside, raising an eyebrow as you looked around. You looked over to your right, noticing weapons and gear laid out on a steel table. Your eyes focused on Steve’s shield first before noticing the more dangerous weapons… you soon realized this wasn’t going to one of the regular fights you were used to.

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My theory is entropy.
This isn’t supposed to make sense.

That’s the only way I can find to explain you. Explain that I am…
While you remain safely on the shore, wondering why I’m all wet

Some stories just don’t have endings–the dissipation of matter beyond its present state, expanding further and further into the far reaches of the unvierse.

I can’t figure this out. I can’t figure out why I can feel all of this, can feel my very atoms being rearranged into loving you, and not be loved back.

I can’t figure out why I’m getting torn apart by the very force that holds humanity together.
How is it that I can go through so much in life, and I am defined by my capability to feel this kind of pain? How is it that I could tell any story, but this is the only one I can’t stop telling?
I know I am contributing to the flux of the universe,
with every broken line.

I am matter, I matter,
my mass
is equal to
the weight of the words you say,
the ones I write
My volume is
the sound of my heart breaking.

entropy–How you have undone me,

—  Entropy (II)
  1. Group new words together in your notes (according toparts of speech, the same pronunciation, the same topic area, etc).
  2. Think of relationships between what you already know and new things you learn (for me it is for instance hond-hund (nl-no) ).
  3. Visualize idioms or phrases in your mind, or draw them, to help remember. Try to see the spelling before your closed eyes.
  4. Make diagrams or semantic maps (word maps, webs of words) to arrange key words visually on paper.
  5. Remember a new foreign word by a crazy association with a known word (camarera = a Spanish waitress with a camera).
  6. Create rhymes to remember new words.
  7. Use (colored) flashcards to remember new English words (idea: one colour = one part of speech OR one colour = one language if you are learning more than 1 language at the same time)
  8. When trying to remember, physically act out new verbs.
  9. Say aloud or write new English words repeatedly [When I was a 4th grader I couldn’t remember ‘chicken’ word so I wrote this word 20 times. Not only I remember I did such thing but also when I close my eyes I see this piece of paper with 3 lines of chicken word – but this is only for hardcore learning I guess, can’t imagine learning every word like this ;) )
  10. Copy, rewrite new language items to practice writing.
  11. Imitate (shadow) recorded language to imitate a native speaker’s way of speaking.
  12. Try to use whole ready-made phrases fluently (Nice to see you too! What a shame!).
  13. With new structures,  try to make analogous (similar) sentences based on a model.
  14. Consciously try to use the words you know in different combinations to make new sentences.
  15. Start conversations in your target language whenever you are around a native speaker.
  16. Come to out-of-class language events (search for language club in your city maybe?).
  17. Get involved in any class activities that require writing or speaking spontaneously in the language you are learning (not working if you are a self-learner…).
  18. Use a monolingual dictionary
  19. Use other kinds of resources (a picture dictionary, a dictionary of collocations)
  20. Use thematic /vocabulary books for your own study.
  21. Look for words in your own language that are similar to new words in the language you are learning.
  22. Try to find patterns, regularities in grammar.
  23. Work out the meaning of a word by dividing it into parts (prefixes and suffixes) that you understand.
  24. Make comparisons between languages (e.g. German vs Spanish).
  25. Make notes / summaries of new information that you hear or read in your target language.
  26. Even when you are not terribly sure whether it is correct to say something in a given way, take risk to try!
  27. Understand unfamiliar words, make guesses from the linguistic context and clues (like this must be a negative word, this must be the name of an illness).
  28. To understand new and difficult language material, make guesses from the situation (in a film), pictures (in a magazine), gestures, tone of voice in a conversation, etc.
  29. When you are writing a new word in your notebook, also write a sentence where this word is used. Personally I was too lazy to do it but when I finally started it helped me a lot.
  30. Try out different ways of learning and revise, revise, revise…
The Voicemail, Part 3

Title: The Voicemail, Part 3
Author:  @piecesofscully
Rating: PG-13
Timeline: Pre-Revival
A/N: This is an unbeta’d quickie continuation of a series written with @kateyes224 .  Please read parts 1 and 2 listed below, so that you have an idea of what the hell is going on. 

The Voicemail written by me

The Voicemail, Part 2 written by @kateyes224

With each step she takes, shooting pain jolts through the center of her heels as she finally enters her dark apartment.  There’s a staleness to the silence now, a product of entering single-living territory again, a lifestyle of chosen loneliness she hasn’t experienced for many years.  Each minute of her thirty-six hour shift sits heavily in her lumbar region, aching with ferocity as she shrugs off her coat and slings it over the back of a rarely used dining room chair.

Her phone pings loudly, its alert slicing through the quiet to announce a missed call and a voicemail.  She glances at the notification, fully expecting to see another summoning from the hospital, and she grips the chair as her knees buckle.  


Her cheeks flush pink with brewing embarrassment as she thinks back to a few weeks earlier, snippets of a drunkenly induced voicemail she had left him run muddily through her mind.  She had been drinking that night with the sole intention of getting drunk, an impulsion she hadn’t conceded to since her rebellious teenage years, and played his voicemail thirteen times, having memorized each line around the seventh or eighth. Each time she hit ‘replay’ she was another vodka and splash of cranberry juice deeper, soaking in every venomous word he spoke.

She has no memory of thumbing through her contacts and finding his number, or pressing the ‘call’ button.  She doesn’t remember hearing it ring or being directed to voicemail.  The words that had erroneously poured from her liquored mouth, however, come back in hazy fragments.

 “I wanted to abort my son.  You know why?  Because you were gone.”

 “How do you find a way to be everything and nothing to me at the same time?”

 “I hate that I love you.  I hate myself for loving you.  You’re like a disease.”

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The first conversation they have about big conversations is that they have them in the first place. Isak told Even he’d wanted to take it day by day, minute by minute if they have to, and Even loves him for it. But he also uses it to not go into those conversations at all; to be able to run from those conversations about the big things – about them moving in, about how they’d divide the costs, about how they have to set up a support system for when it does go wrong. Isak asks him about it once, after they’ve been dreading talking to each other for a week about deeper things than just school, and Even responds in truth; he’s scared because he’s impulsive, and as a result decision-making is not his strongest point. But Isak tells him that he knows, and he knows him, and even if Even is scared about the future and about his choices, he’ll be there to help him there – and Isak wants to hear Even’s wishes; he shouldn’t be scared to tell him so.

One of the first big conversations they have is about their direct future; about their studies and their specific degrees, and at which university. They both decide to stay in Oslo; Isak starting his degree in medicine, while Even goes for his bachelor’s in film. Not necessarily film-making, but it’s a way to get there. To get some experience, Even starts directing his little neighbor girl’s class’ theatre play as a side job. It’s all relatively easy, until Even receives his bachelor’s and decides to take the year off to make a serious portfolio to submit to the University of York for the MA in Digital Film and Television Production the following year. Isak’s not afraid to say he’s not looking forward to them being separated for a year, and Even’s scared a little about him being on his own there. The conversations they have about it are not always civil; they can be biting and hard, but Isak knows he’ll never not support Even in what he wants to do. And Isak’ll be busy too, interning at the hospital’s emergency room, so they commit themselves to a phone call, even just a minute, a day and a Skype call every week. They miss each other terribly during that year, but at the end of the day it makes them stronger – they’re not one person, they’re two individuals with different aspirations; and they couldn’t have been more proud of each other. (But when Even returns home to surprise Isak for his birthday, Isak cries his eyes out in Even’s neck during their first embrace).

Even decides he’ll want to continue working in Norway, preferring to explore his homeland’s industry before possibly moving abroad – and joins a project as a director’s assistant; while Isak works his butt off during his internships. He still prefers the bustle, the adrenaline of the ER and decides he’d like to specialise in that. It means he works crazy hours, and Even works crazy hours, and they barely get to see each other and sometimes it’s even more hard than actually being in a different country. They have a conversation about that once, asking each other very honestly whether they’d like to continue their relationship; whether the way it works now will be enough for them now and later – but they decide it is. They both make sacrifices if they need to; Isak taking a few days off when Even’s manic and later, when he’s not getting out of bed; Even deciding not to take a project so he’ll be home more often when Isak’s coming home, knowing Isak’s mother is currently in-treatment for a suicide attempt. He doesn’t mind, Even gets to brainstorm his next project instead, and maybe, just maybe – this will be the one that hits it big. If not, he’ll always have his directing job at a local youth theatre club to get him through until the next project. They both feel they made the right decision; staying together for each other’s sake, instead of being apart.

As Even’s still a tad scared he’ll be too impulsive, Isak is the one who asks Even to marry him. It happens on a Sunday afternoon, just after Isak had a horrible night at the ER – and Even stayed up all night and early, early morning listening to his thoughts and feelings, brushing his arms with his fingers ever so lightly. Isak starts tracking his finger over Even’s face, and asks. The proposal doesn’t come as a shock to him; softly kissing his yes into Isak’s mouth. They’ve been together for ten years, always knowing they’d say yes but waiting until they had a stable life. It’s the conversation they have after, when they decide on their names; if they’ll keep them as is, or if they would like to hyphenate. They agree it’s too long to use all of their names together; but then Isak tells Even that he wants to take his name instead. He tells them that the Valtersen name doesn’t feel right, that although he’s getting along a bit better with his family than before he still doesn’t feel as cared for as he is by Even’s family. Even asks him if this is truly what he wants, feeling the grief that Isak feels at his family situation, but he is adamant in changing, and Even accepts it. So on the 21st of December; at 21:21, as once in a pool some time ago, Isak Valtersen is reborn Isak Bech Næsheim.

The conversation they have about children is easy, and quite quickly decided; they’d like to adopt, and while they’re aware of their own and their family’s histories of mental illnesses, it’s not because of that they’d like to adopt. It’s because of a little kid in Even’s youth theatre group; who’s been happily adopted by his parents after being taken out of his home by child welfare services. But while they know what they want, it’s harder to say when they will; when they first talk about it they’re still figuring out their own schedules to see each other more, and in the end it takes them far too long to have agreeable schedules to have a young kid. They foster a two children for a while, two young people of 12 and 14, and while it’s not always perfect to have two teenagers with raging hormones around – they wouldn’t have it any other way. They support them through their homework; through break ups; through sleepless nights; through dealing with traumatic experiences; through struggles of gender identity and transitioning – and in the end, after a group conversation, their family of four becomes official through a few signatures on a line. 

  Every human is an island. The only bridge to others.. is through words.


both art and writing commissions are open

if you’re wondering who tea hope is, hi that’s me. i have lots of blogs, the active ones i run individually being @annaveth​, @sadrien​, @katsukiyurj​, @altaya​, and @lesmiserablc​. i just finished my senior year of high school and am having some trouble finding a summer job. i have to pay for college so here we are

if you’re interested in commissioning me, please email me at teahopeb@gmail.com. if you have any questions, you’re welcome to either send me an ask to any of my tumblrs or send me an email!

there’s a bit of different information for art commissions v writing, so to see more details, please read below the cut

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