Taeyong, my dear, thank you for turning the other cheek. You went through so much, and I guarantee you, life will repay you. To be honest, the process has already started, look at you now! I think this serves as a lesson to the people who “doubted TY”. The ultimate “check your facts before you talk shit” situation. VAMOS CHIQUITO! you got this! Nothing but good things here on out!

Originally posted by stillldreamingofyou

  • Achilles: So, who broke it? I’m not mad, I just want to know.
  • Patroclus: I did, I broke it-
  • Achilles: No. No, you didn’t. Odysseus?
  • Odysseus: Don’t look at me. Look at Diomedes.
  • Diomedes: What? I didn’t break it.
  • Odysseus: Hmm. That’s weird. How did you even know it was broken?
  • Diomedes: Because it’s sitting right in front of us, and it’s broken.
  • Odysseus: Suspicious.
  • Diomedes: No, it’s not!
  • Agamemnon: If it matters...probably not...Briseis was the last one to use it.
  • Briseis: Liar! I don’t even drink that crap.
  • Agamemnon: Oh, really? Then what were you doing by the tea stand at the store earlier?
  • Briseis: I use the wooden stirrers to push back my cuticles. Everyone knows that, Agamemnon!
  • Patroclus: Alright, let’s not fight. I broke it, let me pay for it, Achilles.
  • Achilles: No. Who broke it?
  • Diomedes: Achilles, Menelaus has been awfully quiet...
  • Menelaus: Really?!
  • Diomedes: Yeah, really!
  • [Cut to Achilles in another room, the rest of them fighting in the background]
  • Achilles: I broke it. It burned my hand so I punched it. I predict ten minutes from now, they’ll be at each other’s throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick. Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.

Ser Jaime? Even in soiled pink satin and torn lace, Brienne looked more like a man in a gown than a proper woman. I am grateful, but … you were well away. Why come back? A dozen quips came to mind, each crueler than the one before, but Jaime only shrugged. I dreamed of you, he said. — A Storm of Swords, Jaime VI

IIFFFFF I transposed Waving Through A Window from DEH to a female key, how high should I go?

In the current key (male octave not going up an octave lol no) the lowest note is A that is 2 below Middle C (A2) and the highest note is the Bb above Middle C (Bb4). 

I was thinking of bringing it up so that the low note is D below middle C and the high note would be the Eb above middle C. I don’t wanna bring it up REALLY far that it doesn’t even sound the same but that A2 is just impossible for women (I’m considered CRAZY ALTO when I can sing a C3). But pulling it up an octave is just NOT GONNA HAPPEN with those high notes. Not because I (and a TON of women) can’t sing a Bb5… its just like… why? fuck that. 

I feel like that works well but idk. I have to put all the notes into my program before I can even start transposing it anyways so we have TIME 

4 song fsts; four otps

just a little project done for the fun of it, nothing to take too seriously. please enjoy! ❤

ALSO LISTEN the core four | the four more | four ships | four friendships

❣ veronica x archie

❥ steps out of the shade and says something like, “you and me babe — how ‘bout it?”

❣ betty x veronica 

you’re my best friend and we’re dancing in a world alone.

❣ archie x reggie

life could be simple but you never fail to complicate it every single time. 

❣ cheryl x josie

like halloween day, but it was 4th of july now; a car crash with a suitcase and a painted face.

...and now you're gone...

Hey guys! So this is my first writing, so feedback is really appreciated :) it’s based on I Don’t Even Know Your Name, hope you enjoy!



All I saw was one pair of deep brown eyes.

My heart beat fast as I got lost in those round dark orbs. Her eyes were glued to mine, just as mine were glued to hers. I could feel the sweat collecting as a gripped the neck of my acoustic guitar. Luckily the words of Life of the Party were engrained in my memory, because lyrics were the last thing on my mind. The words spilled out of my mouth out of habit as my gazed was locked on one thing… one girl.

Her hair fell in cascades down to her bare shoulders. Her soft pink dress brought out the rosiness of her cheeks. I could tell she was doing her best to hold her petit frame up on her tip-toes to see over the crowd. Her pink lips curled at the ends into a subtle and irresistible smile.

As the final words of the song found their way out of me, the wild movement and cheering of the crowd took my attention for a mere second. When I turned to dive back into those chocolatey spheres, they weren’t there. I felt my heart sunk deeper and deeper into my stomach as a realized she was gone.

The rest of the show was a blur. I can’t picture the rest of the crowd, or even the venue. As I sat on the bus, southbound from the Twin Cities, I could feel an ache in my heart. I felt her eyes locked on mine, and pictured her face. She was the closest thing I’d ever seen to perfection.

The rest of the tour dragged on. Time seemed to stand still as one thought, one person filled my mind. We played our last show in Toronto, and I finally exited to bus for good as I stood in my Pickering driveway.

I spent day after day with a pen in my hand and a guitar in my lap. I wrote and sang and for the first time, the words had meaning. There was no imaginary girl, no figment of my own creation, for whom these words were meant. She was real… she was out there… and I was going to find her.

A new album meant a new tour. The plans were set and dates announced, catering to my one request: a stop in Minneapolis.

August 6. I took another sip of coffee as I saw the bright red lights of the arena sign. My eyes had not seen sleep since we crossed the crooked border from Wisconsin to Minnesota.

“Here we are,” Andrew said with a sigh. “Happy yet, Shawn?”

He didn’t know. He didn’t know what this show meant to me. He didn’t know the pain that shot through my chest when I thought of the last time I was here. He didn’t know the meaning behind the worst I would belt on the stage that night. He didn’t know.

“Not yet,” was all I said.

As I stood on the side, ready to take the stage, I closed my eyes. I pictured exactly where I saw her. I pictured every detail of the girl who consumed my thoughts for over a year. I opened them and took the stage.

With each song I sang, my eyes scanned the crown. I looked for her familiar smirk, and those deep, dark eyes. But as each song ended, I was left with disappointment as she was no where to be seen.

Anxiety filled me as a realized I had one song left. I was disappointed that I hadn’t seen her face, and disappointed that she wouldn’t here the song I wrote for her.

“Ooo, you dressed up so nice, but all I could see was your eyes…

Another scan. No luck.

"And you’ll never know what you did to me, and now you’re gone…”

My heart sank as I sang the final line.

“I don’t even know your name…”

I sat alone in my dressing room with my head in my hands. She wasn’t there. She was gone. Lost forever, only to live in my memory.

Andrew knocked on my door, telling me it was time to head out. I rubbed my eyes on final time, hoping to get the sight of her out of my head. No luck. I grabbed my backpack and trudged my way to the back door towards the bus.

I dreaded stepping on the iron beast. It was filled with the words I had written for her, that I sang with her face on my mind and hope in my heart of seeing her again. That hope was gone. We had come back, but she did not return. She was gone.

I watched my boots hit the ground as I trudged towards the bus. Running my hand through my hair, I took one final look at the venue, and laid my hope of seeing her to rest right there in the parking lot.

I looked back down and took painstaking steps towards the bus. Just as I reached the door, I heard a small voice from behind stopped me in my tracks.

“Umm excuse me,” it said. It was so soft I almost didn’t believe it was real. I kept my eyes on the stairs of the bus, until I heard it one more time.

“Shawn?” it said. With the use of my name, I slowly turned around, only to be met with the deep brown eyes that had consumed my thoughts for what felt like centuries.

“Y/n,” those beautiful lips said. “It’s y/n.”