i know every line word for word


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

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.}

“I hate you.”

It is the emotion you know best, know how it feels unbridled and tearing through your heart. It feels a lot like a disease, in how it terrifies and takes hold. You had heard tales of how in the age of man they had cures for some diseases. Maybe hatred was one of them.

“No you don’t.”

Gentle; it is always gentle and understanding no matter how foul you cry or how far you throw. If words were weapons, they would be dead, killed by the barbs that line every word you say, even the most innocuous. But somehow it is immune. It is always immune.

“Don’t tell me what I’m thinking.”

For a moment you hear silence, perhaps the hatred you sow deep has finally won and the last morsel of good has gone. It is a happy thought. Sort of. It is also strikingly lonely.

“You always tell me.”

It is witty, irritatingly so, and you sense a smug smile, like it thinks it has won. Won some small ground in this seemingly eternal war.

“Yeah, well you’re not real. So I’ll tell you whatever I want to tell you!”

Sanity was never one of the traits anyone ever said you had and more and more you see it in high light, growing with each passing word. To be sane involves a degree of humanity and by all means you left yours long ago, somewhere along the roadside. Or maybe in the old chapel, somewhere under the tall steeple.

“Why do you always say that?”

Once upon a time, as the old stories go, sanity was your virtue, worn like a cape and sung like a wondrous song. But times change and so do people.

“Because you’re dead.”

It is the voice you remember, soft and gentle and far too annoying. It is a voice that you know is no longer beside you or waiting, keen with the first barbs.


“No! You left me. You promised! And I can’t follow and I hate you so, so much.”

It is a whisper - harsh and unrelenting. You know the reassurances it spews. It feels warm, cozy, and sometimes you let yourself pretend. Until you wake up, alone all over again.

It’s 2:30 pm.
Our hands are woven into each other and every time they separate, they feel like torn strings waiting to be mended again.

It’s 2:30 am.
The sky is delirious and falling apart.
Your palms are sand with names etched into the lines with wooden sticks by careless lovers and you’re somehow still holding it all up.

I don’t know what time it is anymore.
But I’m left with a worn out needle and thread and I’ll learn how to stitch the night back into place.

last night i had a dream
someone saw everything i’ve been writing
but instead of scoffing at these words they sat down and took a long hard look
they read every line
every single word
and they wanted more
they wanted to know me
they wanted to know the person that only appears when i let these words go free
I’ve said almost everything I wanted to say to you. To conquer every word that matches my feelings towards you, my love. I must say that I lost track of time. I didn’t know long I was staring at my laptop, thinking the right words to express my love and gratefulness. I wanted to be discreet at all times, because I know you hate people who’s very skeptical. I want to promise that every single word that comes out of mouth was made by my pure and loving heart. But I’m afraid that I can’t find the exact phrases and sentences. I’m always between the lines. Am I some kind of dumb? I guess so. Yet I’m convinced I was the luckiest girl on earth, because you found me and I found you even without the words, even without the sweetest talks… you saw right through me. Straight to my heart like a bullet shot — much stronger than words can carry far. Still, No words can define how much I loved you.
—  Words of love

Ryan, you’re Luke Skywalker. You’re battling Greg, who’s Darth Vader. When space adventurer Lando Calrissian, Wayne, comes in to help. Colin keeps entering as other Star Wars characters.
The trick is, every time they speak they have to use these exact number of words. Greg, you can only and always have to use 2 words, Colin you always have to use 3 words, Ryan you always have to use 4 words, Wayne you always have to use 5 words.


When I was living with my abusers I was an obsessive, relentless self-editor. Part of it was when I posted on my livejournal or whatever they were usually literally monitoring me while doing so, I had no privacy for any thing that I wrote to anyone, but part of it was just the general impact of constant emotional terrorism. I remember trying to compose a message to someone at one point and like, the third time I deleted a line one of my abusers was like, “you self-censor more than anyone I know,” in this really approving tone of voice. 

On my old tumblr, no one is forcing me to edit myself that relentlessly, but I do get some of that old feeling of like… this relentless pressure to phrase everything absolutely perfectly. If I use the wrong word, people who hate me will seize on it and punish me for it and no amount of clarification will ever do, so I can never use the wrong word, which is an impossible standard anyway because every word I say is wrong when it’s not in agreement with the people who are picking apart my shit like this, but when I do get slammed like that my first reaction is, “this is my fault for not presenting my thoughts in a clear or non-offensive or whatever way”. 

I don’t feel like I have to do that anymore! It is a HUGE weight off my shoulders! I did not realize how glad I would be to have that gone, to have a space where I can be a human being in public again. 

Those four words

Okay, so every VA reader knows those infamous four words: “Love fades. Mine has.” We all hate the way Dimirti went about putting Rose at a distance because of his guilt. However, those four words didn’t bother me as much as something else…

It’s actually what he says right before that famous line that kills me the most. “I’ve given up on you.”

Imagine for a moment that you are Rose. You didn’t know your father for 18 years. The mother you did know was both physically and emotionally distant, showing her acknowledgment with criticism more than anything. She lives in a world where her thoughts, opinions, and general existence is put behind someone else because of her race. Her adoptive family was killed in a brutal accident. One of her oldest and best friends was murdered in front of her and I can imagine she still feels some survivors guilt about it. Her other friends are distancing themselves from her in one way or another. Even her bondmate is more concerned with someone else at the moment and isn’t available to support her. The only person who you could argue is on her side is Adrian, but their relationship is understandably on the rock with everything else going on.

Rose has lived a lifetime of both intentional and unintentional abandonment. But there is one person she had in her life that made her feel like she was worth more: Dimitri.

He saved her from expulsion and offered to mentor her the first day he met her. He saw potential where others saw nothing more than uncontrolled defiance. He molded her skills and made her the best possible guardian he could, to the point where she was top of her class in that respect come graduation, despite missing two full years of schooling.

Beyond her professional skills, he also was there for her personally. I’m not even talking about romance here. I’m talking about the fact that he continually treated her with respect (yes, he said some stupid things in Frostbite but promptly apologized for them), encouraged her to push herself, and picked her back up when she fell. He didn’t baby her or belittle her, he was firm but not domineering. He put her wellbeing before his own. He put her first.

Even when he was denying the ability to have a relationship with her, he stood by her.

Even as a monster, he took care of her and protected her.

He NEVER gave up on Rose.

Until that moment.

The one person who had fought along side her to make Rose the best possible version of herself essentially told her that she wasn’t worth fighting for anymore. She wasn’t enough.

She risked EVERYTHING for him…and he told her that it wasn’t enough.

I’m not saying that he automatically owed her anything for doing everything she could to save his soul. That was Rose’s choice. Heck, with the pain he was going through, he might even resent her a little. However, imagine how damaging it would be to be willing abandoned by your mentor, lover, friend, and the one person who made you feel like you, as an individual, was worth more.

He didn’t even want to SEE her. She had to jump through hoops to TALK to him. Forget romance, he didn’t want to be in her life at all, in any remote capacity.

The truth is, Dimitri is right. Love fades. People argue, drift apart or pull away, feel hurt or slighted by the other, and go through some personal issues that make a romantic connection secondary in priority. Love isn’t static. It’s constantly in motion. Sometimes it’s growing. Sometimes it’s fading. However…they can work through it.

Rose was willing to work through it.

Dimitri told her that she wasn’t worth it.

i don’t talk about it anymore.

i tuck you away in the glove box, fold you over like a page dog eared to mark something i loved, except with you i didn’t just love phrases and quotes and words and individual chapters and pieces, i loved the whole thing. the whole goddamn story. and i would have reread every line and let every word resonate with me all over again, but that is why i have to hide it away now.

i don’t think about it anymore.

not unless i have to. not unless it’s right in front of me, staring me right in the face and somehow saying your name without saying anything at all. i block it out. i block it all out.

i closed the door. i turned the page. i bought new books, i threw all your old letters away.

but i’d be lying if i said that i didn’t still find pieces of you everywhere. you’re the smell of the boys who wear your cologne and you’re every single book on physics in the library and you’re in maple lattes at coffee shops, and you’re just, well, i guess you’re still in a lot of things.

but i don’t go to those coffee shops anymore. i stopped going to the library. i don’t pay attention to the boys who wear your cologne. i ignore everything else.

i don’t talk about it anymore.

you’re still here, you’re still fucking here. but i just try to pretend that you’re not.

you’re not. you’re not. you’re not.

(you are.)


today i was at our old place and i saw a boy who looked like you ordering coffee and i almost got up and tapped him on the shoulder but then he turned around and he was beautiful but he was not you, he was not, and i realized that i am still looking for you everywhere. i tell myself that i do not love you but i still try to find you in every place that i go.


I don’t understand why you kept on pushing me to somebody else when every poems and letters I have ever made since the day I came to know you were all for you. I don’t understand why you kept on thinking I will never fall for someone like you, when in fact there’s no part of you that I haven’t fall for yet. You are everything in-between these messy lines and struggling poetry, the sun, the moon. You are my most favorite what if. I just wished you knew that instead of pretending you don’t.
The hardest thing after the split was sorting through the box of lies and broken words, and sitting there for hours knowing damn well that every line in these letters you wrote for someone else, all these pages were misplaced feelings for her.
—  Excerpt from a book I’ll never write #12

“Like clockwork, She’s here again.
Here to remind me of the miracle that could have been. Or the miracle that is the fact my core does not harbour his kin.
Alas, every month has a red lining.

Anxiously, I’ve been waiting for Him.
He looks different but I know it’s him.
I will put words in His mouth and meaning to His every move until my heart breaks.
Again. ”

Haikyuu!! Fic rec part 3/?


Conquering the Great King by SuggestiveScribe (105,716 words)
Iwaizumi blinked his gaze over to Oikawa, “Last time was supposed to be a one time thing,” he said, voice low, lacking some conviction. Oikawa’s lips twitched into a smirk and he brought them hovering just over Iwaizumi’s, “One time thing, Two time thing, what’s it matter as long as it’s not a Relationship thing?”
I know this one is on like every iwaoi fic rec on earth but it’s not for nothing, this fic is amazing

Love me like you do by crossbelladonna (100,596 words)
Iwaizumi’s family line is cursed to die a year after they fall in love. Admittedly, he knows falling for his childhood friend may be a mistake. But he did and he passed and Death got what he wants that is until Oikawa makes a trade—his memories for Iwaizumi’s life.

Loves me, loves me not by parasolghost (8,763 words)
Oikawa shook the magic 8-ball with furious desperation. “Does Iwa-chan like me back?” he chanted at it as if he had done this many times before. He stared at the ball’s window and waited for it to settle, holding his breath in painfully slow anticipation. 

Drawn to you by SportsAnimeRuinedMyLife (KnightOfRage) (16,248 words)
Iwaizumi is a shoujo manga author, Oikawa definitely isn’t stalking him and Hanamaki and Matsuwaka manage to make falling in love look easy. aka. the GSNK crossover that no one asked for


Close to the chest by darkmagicalgirl (61,185 words)
It takes Yahaba thirteen years to realize he’s different from the other kids, one to figure out how to hide it, and two more to learn to be happy just the way he is. Yahaba’s journey ft. an extremely annoyed Kyoutani, best friend in the world Watari, and loads and loads of good senpai Oikawa.

Safe in your hands by shions_heart (8,915 words)
Kyoutani wears eyeliner.

It’s tradition by hicsvntdracones (5,577 words)
It’s tradition, it’s tradition, they all say as they gather up the second and first years. The second years have a look of hard determination, while the first years are simply confused. Oikawa claps his hands together.“Let’s begin this year’s annual training camp truth or dare!"Kunimi tries to run.
This is one of my favorite fic, I almost died of laughter


Rated m for by orphan_account (10,692 words)
He should have known that there was a Specific Reason™ why it was so absolutely vital that he and Matsukawa specifically meet for a reading of the script. He should have known that there had to be some evil catch beyond sitting in a tiny, cramped studio with his newly sworn enemy.

True Ending by SheenaChan (12,856 words)
He never really questioned the handsy nature of their friendship, it was just something that felt normal after falling asleep on a tiny couch while watching movies too many times. Who was Hanamaki to say no to cuddles with someone he considered his best friend? The fact that Matsukawa was always a bit cute in the wee hours of the morning was just something Hanamaki would have to file away in the back of his mind…

let me read you like a book — my favourite one of all. some of your pages are worn but i love those the most. some of your ink has been smudged and i wonder how it happened and i keep reading. i find out that someone once dropped your heart like it was nothing. i find out that you’re scared of not knowing what’s going to happen. and sometimes the writing is so small i can barely read it. like you’re trying to hide what happened to you. what made you so sad. or angry. or broken. sometimes the words seem to bounce off the page — the holiday you went on as a kid and your first kiss and the day you met me. let me read you like a book. let me unravel you. teach me how to read between the lines. show me all of the hidden chapters and pages glued together. every word you’ve ever crossed out. let me know you. all of you. let me read you and know you and love you. maybe i’ll let you do the same.
—  let me love you // r.e.s
Bad Boys

Prompt: heeey can you do a theo imagine based off of the song “bad boys” by zara larsson ((it seems fitting))?? idk can it be not smutty, but like sensual and fluffy ish?? where theo’s hardcore flirting with the reader and she’s denying feelings for him and maybe it ends in make out session… iiidk anything along those lines is fine tysm

Pairing: Theo x Reader

Notes: After every lyric it will be a different scenario.

Originally posted by draqviellence

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i read some random short story online written from the perspective of a guy who was obsessed with his ex and I literally started shaking after the first page because every single word sounds EXACTLY like my ex, and it was published the day I broke up with him?? idk the guy just says all this very specific stuff that my ex said, word for word, and it freaked me out. like i know it’s not him that would be insane, but almost every line of the story being a weird coincidence and the almost total lack of any contradictory information was fucking disturbing 

the illuminati is real and everything is about me ok guys god

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“I know what I swore.” Jon said the words. “I am the sword in the darkness. I am the watcher on the walls. I am the fire that burns against the cold, the light that brings the dawn, the horn that wakes the sleepers, the shield that guards the realms of men. Were those the same words you said when you took your vows?” // “They were. As the Lord Commander knows.” // “Are you certain that I have not forgotten some? The ones about the king and his laws, and how we must defend every foot of his land and cling to each ruined castle? How does that part go?” Jon waited for an answer. None came. “I am the shield that guards the realms of men. Those are the words. So tell me, my lord— what are these wildlings, if not men?” Bowen Marsh opened his mouth. No words came out. A flush crept up his neck.

I almost sent a hurricane with the tap of a button. The wind was in my lungs, my chest heaving as every “what if” poured down in my mind. I almost started a tsunami that would shift the very core of our connection. The words were so basic, glued together with an honesty poets can’t capture in their search for perfect lines. I wanted him to know a two year old truth—one so fundamental it had carved itself into my bones. A storm could have started with my cataclysmic emotions, and I’d weather it with the grace of swaying trees caught in chaos. I wanted the truth to wipe away towering constructs of false pretenses.
—  “Has it ever been mutual?” // I desired disaster (and I still do, deep down where the storm rages inside, waiting to be set free)