i wish i could cook this well

What Hogwarts Houses Are Really About

I think that a common mistake when it comes to think about the houses and sorting in general, is that people think too much of it simply as a means of categorizing and labeling people. However, first and foremost, within the Potterverse, it is a system of placing students into a community which will influence their growth in the best way for their needs. 

When the students enter Howarts, they are 11 years old. At such a young age, most children don’t really have a concrete sense of self. All they have is potential. An 11-year-old going into Slytherin may not have the best work-ethic, or know how to manipulate their surroundings. They have the seeds of ambition within them, and with the fertilizer that is the Slytherin house, can be grown into a “true Slytherin.” Slytherins in the Potterverse have such strong manifestations of Slytherin values and traits, not because they came naturally, but because they spent 7 years of their lives being nurtured and brought up in the Slytherin environment. They live in a community where ambition and cunning are highly valued and emulate it themselves until they are molded into Slytherins. 

A strong example (and one of my fav character arcs ever) is Neville Longbottom. He is clearly not the perfect ideal of a Gryffindor during his first year. But he goes from nervously and shakily warning his friends against breaking the rules in his first year (plenty of character development happened there already too), to killing a giant snake and standing up to Lord Voldemort himself and facing certain death. It wasn’t that being in Gryffindor made Neville into a hero, it boosted the potential to be a hero that he had in him all along. 

So, for some “real-world connections,” this explains why, for those of us who like to self-sort as a part of enjoying the Harry Potter experience, it’s not always so clear what house we belong to. Many of us are young adults, and haven’t been raised in a purely “Ravenclaw” environment. We grew up in the real world, where many traits from all of the houses are valued in different measures in different cultures and even families. We’re all a complex mix.

I will never be as much of a Ravenclaw as Luna Lovegood is. No one is purely any house (at least, until one of you rich nerds decides to make a school based on Hogwarts and raises kids in the same way). However, we can still emulate the house traits and values. The moment you say “I really want to become the kind of person who would be sorted into Hufflepuff,” you can identify as a Hufflepuff! So, in the end, it’s just like the Sorting Hat said. What house you are is your choice. It doesn’t define you, it just guides you. 

Devotional activities

Gee, you think as you see a wonderful highly-rendered painting of a deity, I wish I could draw so I could make Them something like that.

Then you reblog and wistfully think about how nice that would be.

You see wonderful devotional poetry, song writing and singing, dancing and cooking, all in the name of the Gods. And you think I’d do that, if I could. I’d love to. But I can’t.

You’d never be as good, of course. You haven’t drawn since you were eleven, you dance like a drunk giraffe, you can’t write worth a darn, and your cooking skills don’t go past macaroni and cheese.

But the thing is - don’t just wish you could dance for Them. Don’t just think about what that would be like, how nice it could be to do it well - just do it. Play music that reminds you of Them, or simply the music that makes you happy, let go of your reservations and just dance. But I look silly! Maybe. Probably. That’s okay. Your grace does not matter - let the happiness spring from your heart as you dance, your intention more valuable than your ability. Offer your joy.

Don’t wish you could write and sing for Them. You can’t carry a tune, don’t know how to play a single instrument, lose the words you’re looking for when you write - it’s okay. Sit in a quiet place and let your emotions come. Do not worry when you stumble, when your voice cracks and you feel awkward about the lyrics. Simply sing with the words that spring to your mouth. The act is more important than your skill.

Don’t look over the pictures of wonderful food wishing you could cook for Them. Go, learn, experiment. Don’t worry if you burn the food, or if it turns out wrong, or if it looks funny. Leave your anxiety over whether it’s fancy enough, whether it was difficult enough - put your adoration and your attention into it, and it’s irrelevant whether it’s the finest and most expensive delicacies.

Do not worry that you cannot paint well enough to create images for Them. Create what you can, with what you can, to the best of your ability, and do not worry whether it is enough. Sculpt Their images in clay, even if you with all your might cannot quite seem to capture Their nature. Draw Them, even if your hands are unsteady. Paint Them, even if it never comes out the way you want it. 

You feed Their Ka by putting forth your attentions and efforts. You are putting energy towards them, even if it may turn out ‘bad’ by your standards.

Do not doubt what you can give.

anonymous asked:

fuck the cooking, i show up with cheap take out and amazing orgasms. then pull out the mistys.

On one hand: fuck yes marry me anon.

On the other hand: anon has figured out that everything I write is vicarious wish fulfillment. How could they see through this ruse? I hide it so well.

You know what's sad?

The fact that you missed out on watching your TC grow up. You only know them now, as your teacher.

Sometimes I wonder about all the things that have happened to X. She’s well into her 40s. She’s seen a lot of life. She’s experienced so many things.

I wonder what her first date was like. Her first kiss. What it was like to start college at 14. Her first heart break. Her first time. If she’s ever had a pregnancy scare. Or if she’d ever gotten pregnant and aborted the baby. Or gotten pregnant and lost the baby. The first dish she cooked on her own. What she did for fun as a kid and as a teenager.

I wish I could somehow see all of that. I wish that I could’ve been there to experience all of those things with her.

Oh, I wish you could meet my wife. My wife who lives in England. She couldn’t be sweeter, I wish you could meet her! My wife who lives in England! Her name is Martha, she lives in London. She cooks like my mother and sucks like a hoover! Haha! I write her every single day just to make sure that everything’s okay! It’s a pity she lives so far away in England! Last week she was here, but she had the flu. Too bad ‘cause I wanted to introduce her to you. It’s so sad but there wasn’t a thing that she could do but stay in bed- with her legs up over her head! Oh! I wish you could meet my wife, but you can’t ‘cause she is in England! I love her, I miss her, I can’t wait to kiss her, so soon I’ll be off to Martha! (pause) I mean London! Shit… Her name is Martha, she lives in Lond – She’s my wife! My wonderful wife! Yes, I have a wife who lives in England! And I can’t wait to eat her pussy again!
—  John Laurens
Great Expectations

Based on Anon Prompt:  “Hey! Omg your blog is liiiiife! Owen is 😍😍😍 Okay, so I have an idea for an imagine if you don’t mind? He asks you out on a first date after working and flirting with each other for months, so you go over to his place and he cooks for you and you get drunk and watch the sunset and watch the stars and he makes you wish on a shooting star and ughhh just fluff! Please and thank youuuuu!”

A/n: I haven’t written much this week so I thought you guys could go for some fluff! Love you guys and thanks for sticking around through everything!

Working beside Owen the past two months had been extremely fun. Every time you two are together, you end up in laughing fits and you just mesh really well.  You’re rarely ever seen apart during work and, while you often go to lunch together, it’s never just the two of you. So needless to say you were a bit shocked when he asked you to come over dinner; your first instinct was to ask who else was coming.

“Just me and you.” He grins at you and it takes a moment for you to catch on.

“Wait,” You start, “You mean like on a date?”

You’re crazy about Owen, and you know you would make a good couple, but it worries you. If something goes wrong it could ruin the amazing friendship you have going. You contemplate it for a moment when he continues.

“Yeah. Exactly like that” He smiles smugly and you squint your eyes at him. You know you’re not going to be able to say no, but you don’t want it to be so easy for him.

“I don’t know Owen,” You say, faking disinterest, “I mean we’re great together, yeah,  but dating? I can’t really see you settling down with one girl.” You raise your eyebrow at him waiting for him to say something.

“Well, if the girl was you, I don’t think I’d mind.” He winks and this causes you to laugh, nodding. You’re used to the flirting, but now it’s not harmless, it’s actually going somewhere.

“Okay, Owen. Sounds good. Are we ordering out? Because Barry said the last time you cooked something in the house you caught the stove on fire.” You laugh, thinking about the animated way Barry told the story and he starts laughing too.

“Yeah, we can pick something up.” He smiles at you and you wonder if it will all work out.


When you get back to the house with pasta from Jimmy Buffets, you take your usual place on the couch, pulling the coffee table closer so the two of you can eat. Owen walks in the room with a few beers in his hand and puts one in front of you as you pour the food out onto plates and he takes the seat beside you. You feel comfortable with him and make small talk like always. It’s somehow not awkward like you thought it would be. It’s almost as if you’ve been practicing for it since you met.

After you both finish, you look through the back window and see the sun setting over the lake.

“Hey, wanna make this really cliché and go watch the sun set?” You joke with him, and get a nod and a smile in return. He grabs your hand and takes you outside with him to the edge of the water and you take a seat, pulling your knees close to your chest.

“It’s so beautiful out here.” You sigh softly and feel his arm go around your shoulders. You look up to see Owen staring down at you, eyes intense.

“Yeah, it really is.”

You wonder for a split second if this is one of his moves, but then you realize you don’t care. The way he is looking at you right now gives you butterflies you haven’t felt in years. Looking back towards the setting sun, you sigh and lean into him. You don’t talk for a while, rather just remain quiet as you’re memorizing his scent, which is very rugged. He reaches for your free hand and opens up your palm, drawing circles on it with his fingertip. This gentle, sweet Owen is very new to you, but you could totally get used to it.

When the sun finally sets, and you can see stars begins to brighten in the sky, you both lay back.

“You can’t see them back in Miami.” You say, sadly. “There are so many lights. But seeing them out here, like this, well it’s just beautiful.” You can’t help the wonder that fills your voice. You’ve always loved looking at the stars when you could see them.

You roll to your side, placing a hand on his chest while looking up at him, “This view isn’t too bad either.” He smiles widely back at you.

“Yeah, I could say the same thing.” His eyes are boring into your and you can feel the heat between the two of you. After months of flirting, Owen finally pulls you to him for a kiss and it’s better than you could have ever expected. He really knows what he’s doing and that’s nice.  He tastes like beer and tomatoes and while you were only slightly buzzed from drinking tonight, you definitely feel sufficiently drunk when he pulls back. It takes you a moment to remember anything that doesn’t involve his lips.

He laughs, looking past you into the sky. “Look, a shooting star.” You turn your head just in time to see the bright light steaking across the dark sky and you turn your face back to his, smiling.

“Make a wish?” You ask, smirking at him, but he just smiles up and pulls you in for another kiss.

He ends this one quicker than before and says, “Nah, I think I’ve got everything I want right here.”


When you wake up the next morning, you’re a little shocked. You would have never pegged Owen Grady as a cuddler, but here you are: his arm around you, his body pressed flush up against your back, his face in your hair. You smile to yourself and stretch a little, subtly trying to wake him up. His body gets the hint and nudges your hair and places a kiss on your bare shoulder.

“MMMmmm,” Is all he says, and you roll over to face him, still wrapped in his arms.

“Well,” You say, tapping his nose with your finger, “My wish sure came true.”

You smile at him when he opens his eyes and he sleepily asks, “And what was that?”

You kiss him softly, laughing at his inability to function properly yet and say, “That you would be great in bed.”

You smirk at him and he pulls you impossibly closer, and says, trying to sound seductive, “Well, I had a great partner. “He places a kiss on your neck and his hands begin to wander again; you can feel yourself getting excited. However, your stomach growls loudly, interrupting the fun and you both laugh softly.

“How about I go make us some breakfast” You smile, “That way we don’t chance you burning he house down.” You wink at him as you roll off the bed, ignoring his protests. Instead of getting properly dressed, you throw on one of his t-shirts and walk out of the bedroom, feeling his hungry eyes on your ass.

You smile when you’re finally alone in the kitchen and take a deep breath. This is really happening, you think, as you run your fingers through your knotted hair. Owen Grady and Me. It’s not what you expected to happen when you first met him but, honestly, you couldn’t be more excited.

Thanks for Reading!!

From A Screen to a Person

The wind hit my face as I walked in through the automatic doors. People were bustling around and kids were screaming. However, all I cared about was picking him up. He was the best thing in my life since, well anything.  He made me smile and laugh and cry all in the same conversation. He was why I was even at the airport. We were finally meeting. After months and months of talking and wishing to hold him, I finally get to meet him. I finally get to kiss his lips, hold him while he sleeps, and wake up to his cooking.

I continue to walk towards his terminal, smiling from ear to ear. I could not stop with how I felt. I was about to jump out of your skin. Finally, I heard a ding being emitted from the screen. Now it states that his flight has arrived. I begin to  freak out. MIllions of negative thoughts wheezed through my head. What if he hates me? What if he thinks I’m ugly? What if-

My thoughts were cut off by the rusting I heard from behind me and a whispered, “Baby?”

I turn around slowly and slowly look up, taking in all features of him. His jeans; his stupid graphic tee; his strong jawline; his slight smirk; his eyes. Everything was amplified in person. Pictures and Skype calls did no justice. He was beautiful. All I could do was sit and stare like a mother bird seeing her babies leave the nest for the final time. It was real. I reached out and touched him. It was actually real. He was actually real. I couldn’t believe it.

“So are you going to just stand there touching me or are you gonna come give me a kiss,” He questions with a gorgeous smirk laying on his face.

You rush towards him and jump into his arms planting kisses all over his face as he chuckles.

“I’m going to take it that you’re excited to see me,” He chuckles.

“I am!” I exclaimed with glee.

After I safely returned to the ground, he grabbed his suitcase that holds his belongings for the weekend and looked at me. I return the look in a questioning manner. Why was he looking at me? Did I have something on my face? Was he thinking of how ugly I was?

“Stop thinking. Stop second-guessing your beauty,” He says without looking at me.

“I’m sorry. I’m nervous,” I confided.

“Well stop,” He replies with a blank look on his face. “Are we gonna spend the night here or are we going to leave?”

“Oh. Yeah. Sorry,” I murmured.

We began the long trek towards the car. He was silent the entire time. Only speaking when I questioned him on his flight did he speak. He, however, seemed more interested in the surroundings than me. However, him just having his arm wrapped around my waist made me feel special and inserted me into a peaceful like trance. It was incredible. Just the feelings of being in the presence of someone who makes you feel powerful and in command was astonishing. I was relieved, however, that he was tired because he was usually very dominating and at that very moment he was calm and silent and the moment was perfect. Every time we walked past people, they kept staring and repeating in awe of our adorableness. It was a surreal moment.

“How much longer, princess?” He asked.

“Uh. About point forty seven seconds,” I reply with a sarcastic smile as I unlocked my car door and opened the back doors so he could place his suitcase on the back seat. He climbed into the passenger seat and waited till I was in and then leaned over for a chaste kiss. He leaned back and fastened his seat belt and looked out the window in astonishment.

“Are you hungry?” I question is a whisper-like tone.

“Yeah. A little,” He returned in a weary voice.

“Well, what would you like?” I asked.

“Whatever you get me, princess,” He haggled.

“Well, you’re going to eat Chick-Fil-A. Okay,” I respond as I begin to drive in the direction of home.

“Okay,” He recited in a manner that could be compared to a school boy who was reprimanded for laughing too loud.

I begin to pull into traffic and all is peaceful. Once at a stop light, 10 minutes into the drive, I hear soft snores coming from my right side, the passenger side. I laugh quietly to myself and continue to drive. As soon as I pulled off from the drive-thru and making sure to place his food on the passenger side floor, wrapped tightly, I feel a sloppy kiss on my cheek.

“ You didn’t have to buy me food. I have money,” He indicated in a groggy tone.

“But I wanted to. Let me do things for you,” I retorted in an exasperated voice.

“I just don’t want you doing all this stuff from me. I’m the man. I need to provide for you, baby,” He replies sharply.

At this, I laugh and begin to play my music louder. I look at him and laugh and then once again shift my attention towards the road. Once we reach my house, he had not only taken a nap, but also had finished eating. His strength was back and so was the attitude. He made sure to run and open my door once I had parked my car and he also made sure to give me sweet kisses on my forehead and cheek and nose at least twelve times in the five minutes left in our drive home. He was so affectionate and lovable. I loved every second of it.

As we walked into the house, I made sure to let my mom know we were home. She replied with a gleam in her eye and a little extra pep in her step when coming to greet him. He just smiled and retaliated in a friendly manner as he does to everyone except me when he is joking with me. My mother seemed to love him almost immediately. Although, she made sure to explain the ground rules and seemed tough, we all knew she was enchanted by him. After they finished their conversation, we begin to change for sleep. As he was to sleep on the couch, I made sure to cuddle with him and talk of nonsense before leaving him with a breathless kiss and yearning for more.


“ Tell me why do we have to do this?” He whined.

“Because it is what couples do and we have never done this before. So sue me for wishing to not only spend time with my boyfriend but introduce him to my city, especially since we spent the last two days cooped up inside the house,” I snapped with an eye roll.

“Well, maybe I’d rather be at your house, cuddling and spending time together that way.” He retorted with his renowned smirk.

I leaned into his chest and pulled him close and whispered into his chest, “But I want to let you keep that nice tan, babe.”

His chest rumbled as he chuckled and he grabbed my waist and turned me around and we marched into the museum and begin the tour. Throughout the tour, he whispered promiscuous phrases and words into my ears. We both were ready to go home by the time the tour finished. Once we arrived at home, we noticed there was no one there and there was a note on the fridge.

       Don’t forget your sister has her army thing down in Atlanta. We’ll be there for the weekend. DO NOT DO ANYTHING YOU WILL REGRET BECAUSE YOUR UNCLE WILL CHECK ON YOU RANDOMLY.                                    Love, Mom.  

I looked at him and he was smirking.

“So, baby, whatcha wanna do?” He drawled.

“ I don’t know,” I suggested, “Or maybe we can go to my room and cuddle and stuff?”

He groaned, “I love the way you think, Princess.”

As we begin to walk towards my room I noticed the fact that he never let go of me. I was very much aware of his presence and I was very much aware of his body. It was like my body had caught on fire and he was the only one with water. It was uncanny. I had never felt this way before. I could not believe it. Butterflies immediately formed in my stomach and from then forward I knew there was no going back. As soon as we reached my room I heard a knocking. Of course, it was my uncle checking on me. He dropped off food then left. He was only there for maybe three minutes at the most. I immediately grabbed the food that he had just gotten and begin to drag him to my room.

He groaned, “Princess, I was eating that.”

“Yeah? I don’t really care,” I retorted with a sly smile as I grabbed his shirt and begin to pull it over his head.

“Woah! Wha-What’s g-goi-going on?” He stuttered.

“Just about to have some fun,” I responded. “You want to have fun? Right?”

He didn’t reply but instead decided I’d look better on the bed.


“Princess. That was amazing.”

“Yeah. Yeah. I know. Wanna make me a sandwich though?

“.. Not really. But if it makes you happy then okay,” He agreed.

“ I was joking, idiot,” I respond with a laugh.

“Hey! That’s mean! ,” He retorted.

“I love you.”

Letters from Élise - "Old Times' Sake"
Élise de la Serre
Letters from Élise - "Old Times' Sake"

September 23, 1788

Dear Arno,

I never thought I could be so bored in Paris. Can you imagine it? The greatest city in the world, and here I am, stuck in endless lectures from dawn to dusk. It’s worse than that winter we spent in Strasbourg. Do you remember? When it snowed for a week straight and we couldn’t leave the house, and all the books in the library were in German? We convinced that cook the house was haunted by some young Frankish prince, and the poor man refused to leave his kitchen without a rosary in one hand and a Bible in the other.

I miss those days. The things I’m learning from Father’s friends are–well, I wish I could I tell you about them. Someday, perhaps, but not now, and not like this. But still I find myself missing those days. Missing home. Missing you. Next time Father comes to Paris, you must persuade him to bring you along.

I remain always your,