wow that word is really old

It’s Really Hard to Wait When It’s This Much Fun to Tease

Originally posted by chimtae

Note:  Another reupload with a lot of edits and more content added.  I did a kink meme game back on my old blog, and the prompt was “Teasing & Threesome + Taehyung & Jimin” which sounds like a great time lol.  Short thing of smut.  Just 1.7k words of filth.  Proceed with caution babes.  

Summary:  Teasing & Threesome + Taehyung & Jimin.  It’s pretty straightforward.

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“You do know he’s going to get you back…”  Jimin’s words are said out of concern for you, but right now your boyfriend looks the furthest thing from worried when you give a kittenish lick to the head of his cock in time with a rough squeeze around his length.  With a gasp, he almost drops the phone recording you giving him wettest, sloppiest blowjob of his life.  

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Dramione, Reunion

for @thestarfishdancer

A/n: this got entirely out of hand.  So many more than six sentences.  WOW.  Anyway, this gave me OTP feels, so I had to write them at a school reunion.  <3  This is kind of pre-relationship, though.  I hope it’s good enough.  <3


He felt his gaze pulling back towards her.  Time had been kind to Hermione Granger. Or was it Weasley?  He hadn’t really been running in the same social circles as his old school mates (friends or otherwise), so he had no idea if she’d ended up with the Weasel or not.  

Hogwarts class reunions were few and far between.  And she hadn’t been at the last one.    

He ran his hand through his hair, wondering if time had been as kind to him, wondering what she’d think when she saw him, if she’d think anything at all, or if she’d just feel contempt.  

Their eyes locked just once and the corners of her mouth quirked upwards and she raised her hand to wave.  Draco had to glance around him, just to make sure the wave was intended for him before he raised his hand to return the gesture.  

She had a glass of wine in her hand as she crossed the floor to come closer to her.  

“Hello, Malfoy.”  

“Granger.”  

She smiled, a sort of lazy expression that reached her eyes or he’d have thought it forced.  “That was almost civil.  You’ve matured.”  

“It is Granger, then? Not…Weasley or some sort of hyphenated hybrid of the two?”  

She laughed at that.  “Merlin, no. I’m still just Granger.  Ron and I…” she trailed off, her gaze focused on something that obviously wasn’t in the room, likely not even in this moment, this time.  “Ron and I didn’t work out.  Go figure.”  

“I’ll die from shock right here…” He took a sip from his glass of fire whiskey.  

“What about you?  Did you ever settle down?”  

“I got married, if that’s what you’re asking.  I never settled down though.  Which would be why I’m no longer married.”  

“Ah,” she nodded as if she understood.  As if it were a given.  

“Am I really so predictable?”  

She shook her head.  “No, actually.  I half expected you to shout some slur at me.  Imagine my surprise when you were not only civil but…”  

He raised his eyebrows questioningly.  “But what?”

“Not only civil but almost warm.  Lukewarm.” She raised her glass slightly.  “Thank you for your lukewarm sentiment, Malfoy.”

“Well, you’re right about one thing.  I’ve matured. And I realize that my old nicknames for you were…to put it plainly…rather cruel.  And for that…” He paused, looking down into his glass before turning to lock eyes with her.  “I’m sorry.”

Hermione nodded once, taking the rest of her wine down in one gulp, her hand going down to her arm. Malfoy didn’t have to look at her arm to know what she was trying to cover up.  He took a long sip of his fire whiskey, coughing slightly at the burn.  

“Well, I’m empty…how about we get out of here, Granger?”  He held out his hand for her glass, setting it along with his on one of the silver trays that floated by.

“And go where?”  

“I dunno.  Get a drink, maybe?”  He smirked and offered his arm.  

She hesitated, but took it. “Right.  Because there’s nowhere to do that here.”    

10

ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ  #BurgerKingYoungKDay

It’s hard to put my thoughts into words, maybe because words aren’t enough? 23 years old and you’ve already achieved so much. Since the first video until now you showed us how much you grew up and how talented you are. You always showed us such a sweet and strong side of you but we all know that sometimes it’s hard for you. You’ve been working so hard over the past years and there’s no doubt that your efforts have paid off. Thank you for being born or else we wouldn’t have known what true talent is. Thank you for always working hard on your amazing voice and instruments. It must be difficult to be an artist especially with the pressure and cons that come along with it. I am so glad that you didn’t give up because we all know how many years you’ve waited for that special moment. I hope you will always keep going and chase your dream, please never stop. Keep slapping that bass and never get tired of it because your talent has no limits and i’m sure that we didn’t see everything of it yet. From your personality to your voice, you are perfect and i want you to know that. Thank you for always giving 200% in everything you do. Thank you for always keeping us sundays in mind. Thank you for making DAY6 what it is today, because without you and your amazing self it wouldn’t be the same. I wish you all the happiness in this world because you truly deserve it. Happy birthday to the person that makes my life better and better every day just by being part of it, hope you’ll have an incredible day and keep doing what you love the most, i love you a lot, and i really mean a lot. Best of luck for the future! ㅤ ㅤ  ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ     ㅤ Always by your side little bun

당신이 이것을 읽지못할지도 모르지만 저의 작은선물을 좋아했으면좋겠어요!
제가 데이식스 을 알게된이후로 더욱 행복해지고,당신이해주는 모든것에대해서 감사해요, 당신이 많은사랑을받고있다는걸 알길바래요! 좋은하루보내요. 최고의생일을 축하했으면 좋겠어요~ 사랑해요!♡

Kill Me, Heal Me (Bucky x Reader)

A/N: Three Bucky fics in a row and in one day, wow haha, kidding. This wasn’t a request or anything, I just found this old writing and decided to complete and it turned out a bit sad in the end, which in the beginning I didn’t want it to be like that but well, yeah. I actually teared up writing the last part haha. I’m really actually quite curious about how you guys would think about so don’t hesitate to tell me how it was!! Enjoy!!

Italics in the last part is memories

Warnings: death, angst


Kill him.

Those words repeated in your head again and again in your head as you set out for your next assassination. Checking to make sure that your knives and guns were placed properly, you wore your mask and got out of your hiding spot at the end of the alleyway.

Walking down the shadowy path, your mind went to the picture of the man in the file you just read. A S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, the organization your boss despised the most, wanting you to get rid of their agents one by one. Starting with one of the strongest, a recruit they took in not too long ago, who is not only an agent but also an Avenger.

The weird thing is that, you were weirdly interested in this man as you read his profile. For the first time you actually felt like you might talk to him before killing him, since well, he used to work for the same boss as you. You might just see how he is first before you move in for the kill another day because you didn’t have much time today.

You suddenly paused in your footsteps, looking at the dark path in front of you before whipping behind, pulling your gun out in the process as you heard a gun cock.

Pointing your gun at the man, you tilted your head slightly, recognizing that face.

“Are you here to kill me?” You asked as you took a small step forward, stopping as you saw his fingers moving dangerously close to the trigger.

“I’m gonna take that as a yes,” you said, your gun still pointing at him. “It’s funny, you see, you’re sent here to kill me while I’m sent here to kill you. Isn’t that hilarious?”

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Y’all crazy a.k.a. I have 1000 followers???

Seriously, how is this even possible. I post a few times a week (or even less lol), I haven’t posted during summer holidays, this blog is not even one year old, yet somehow so many people want to see my dumb posts? I love you, really. Thank you so much for sticking with me, for every single heart and reblog and every kind word I got from you. I never got any hate here to be honest. I have the best followers ever!! I never though that I’d gather so many people here, there are so many better blogs out there… it’s amazing and maybe it’s stupid to get excited over such thing but it makes me really happy. Thank you guys! You probably deserve a little gift from me for being so cool, but I’m not sure what and when - stay tuned. Thank you once again, it means a lot for me, love you all ♥

Let’s drink to that!

PS. I already did.

Originally posted by dassala

Double Trouble

@endgame-sterek and @cobrilee, here’s chapter 1 of the Two Derek’s fic! Inspired by this post! (I haven’t polished it up yet, so if I missed a typo, please let me know)

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This was… weird, definitely weird. But it certainly wasn’t the weirdest thing that had ever happened to them. And, Stiles was at least pretty sure that this curse wouldn’t result in any of them dying, so that was a big old point in the Plus Column, as far as he was concerned.

Plus, having two Derek Hales to look at wasn’t exactly a hardship. And this one at least seemed considerably less angry. As a matter of fact, New Derek actually seemed to be pretty chill. Though, that was a little bit strange to adjust to.

“Wow, okay, this is just wrong, dude,” a flash of something passed over New Derek’s face as the words fell from Stiles’ mouth. He hadn’t really meant to say them, but seeing Derek’s eyes lit up with amusement and a soft, understanding smile painted on his face was… disconcerting. And it was making Stiles’ heart do a strange fluttery thing, which he couldn’t exactly explain away to the weres in the room. That stray thought brought to mind the question of whether New Derek was also a werewolf, but before he can form the question, Original Derek is growling out:

“Thanks, Stiles, I hadn’t noticed. It’s totally normal to have a doppleganger running around like some weird, alternate version of yourself.” The familiar irritated rumble is oddly reassuring, but it doesn’t settle the tremble in Stiles’ heart. Which is equally disconcerting, really.

“Not an alternate version, actually,” New Derek says in a voice identical to his- er, to Original Derek’s, but lacking the thread of anguish that so often colors it. That makes Stiles’ heart clench, the ache familiar. But then New Derek continues, and the smile he punctuates his theory with is so sweet that Stiles’ breath catches for a moment. “It seems that I-that we- were split into two parts when that curse hit. Two parts of the same, um, us.”

Stiles makes a thoughtful sound at the same time Derek huffs out an exasperated breath. “I mean. He smiles. New Derek smiles. I didn’t even know you had the facial muscles required to smile like that, Der.” New Derek’s smile brightens, and Original Derek scowls, the sight of both make Stiles’ stomach tighten in a not entirely unpleasant way. Stiles is still a little dumbstruck by the earnest smile pulling at New Derek’s lips, so that’s the only reason he can think of for blurting out “It’s a little disturbing, actually. Also, extremely attractive.”

New Derek grins wider and blushes. Blushes! Any version of Derek Hale with pink flushed cheeks and a sincere grin is one worth keeping around, as far as Stiles is concerned. When he adds to the overall “adorable and eager” effect with a “Thank you, Stiles,” and a deepening pinkness in his cheeks, Stiles can’t not smile back, leaning slightly closer to New Derek and darting his tongue quickly over his bottom lip.

A low growl from his opposite side pulls him out of the flirtatious response he was formulating. Original Derek looks decidedly put out, and something hot and raw burns in his gaze. Stiles goes hot all over in response, and New Derek’s eyebrows raise in surprise.

“Stop flirting with him, Stiles, and let’s focus on getting me back to normal.” Stiles is pretty sure he imagined the strain in Derek’s voice around the first few words of that statement, but it still causes a tightening in his belly.

Still though, he can’t help but try to diffuse the strain in the room with his usual brand of sarcasm and awkward bravado. “First off, I don’t think New Derek minds my flirting,” he aims a raised eyebrow at New Derek and receives a very gratifying blush and a combination of lowered eyes and slow smile that is just about the sweetest, sexiest thing he’s ever seen, in response. “And secondly, I don’t think normal is a thing we’re gonna be able to accomplish, big guy. Have you been paying attention to our lives? Normal is a pipe dream, dude.”

Another growl makes its way past Derek’s lips, and this time Stiles rolls his eyes at him.

“Stop. Calling him. That! He is not a new me, damnit,” Derek is undeniably angry, but there’s a note of hurt winding through his words that catch Stiles off guard. Derek’s fists are clenched and his shoulders are a tense upturned line, too close to his shoulders to be anything less than a warning of impending panic.

“I- I don’t mind the name, but, he is right. I mean, I’m not new, I’m just another part of well, me. Or Original Derek, if you prefer.” New Derek puts in, his voice so familiar, but without the accustomed undercurrent of pain that usually colors it; it makes Stiles ache a little. “Technically, we are both ‘Original Derek’.” The smile he punctuates with, a little flirtatious, a little proud, makes Stiles think that perhaps New Derek is actually Original Derek, who Derek was before all the tragedy, before the never ending parade of pain and bullshit that has plagued him since he was fifteen. That thought helps propel him across the room, to stand in front of his Derek and place a hand on his shoulder. He gives Derek a reassuring squeeze and says “I’m sorry, Der,” low and soft, soothing, and just for the two of them, as though there wasn’t another werewolf across the room. Which- come to think of it, makes Stiles wonder if they are both weres, or if that particular trait remained in only one- but now is not the time for those questions. Now is the time for comforting his friend, and then there is time for research and, if their pattern holds true, a hell of a lot of trial and error.

“We’re going to figure this out, okay. Just like we always do.” Stiles is relieved when Derek’s shoulders relax under his hand. Derek leans slightly toward Stiles, it’s more a whole body sag than a conscious decision, but Stiles  wraps his other arm lightly around the man and takes it as a victory anyway, because Derek doesn’t accept comfort easily; a trait Stiles imagines New Derek doesn’t share, and that breaks his heart a little.

When Stiles looks up, New Derek is looking at the two of them with a smile, only this one is sadder than any he’s worn so far. Sad, and full of secrets; wistful, almost. It’s gone just as fast as Stiles can register it, and then the Derek in his arms stiffens and pulls away, and Stiles forgets about the look for the moment.

Nintendo live reaction

DID YALL FUCKIN SEE THAT?!

The whole presentation was amazing!!!!!! Teasers with Atlus (such a mind blowing company just wow) with Persona!!!!! Entirely new games like Octopath Traveler! Arms! Flashes of old school street fighter games and revivals of things like No More Heroes with Travis Touchdown!
But god did they save the best for last
Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Made me tear up til the very end I can’t even express the excitement, anticipation and how thankful I am to even see such a beautiful new LOZ game coming out on an innovative new Nintendo console ! New MARIO games! I just

I’m honestly speechless I have really no intelligible words

The best thing a person can ever feel on a really bad day is going through their inbox on ao3 and read people’s comments. Specially old ones from months/years back.
Because you forget how happy they made you until they make you happy and believe in yourself again… specially when you really need that.
I mean… wow. What a great and amazing thing this is. Having this backup of really encouraging words. That would always exist for your bad days.
I am sure most of the commenters probably don’t even realize how much this does for the writer… how important this is. And how LONG this lasts… on their account and in their heart.
Thank you.
All of you… who have ever left a nice comment. You are all amazing.

You Know I’m Mad || Jaden & Jim

Jaden hated Metas with psionic defenses simply because they made her have to actually work to find them. Ever since Summer Gaudet’s arrival as one of the many new Nephilim members they had acquired, and learning of her backstory, she had a few words she wanted to discuss with dear old Sloth. Unfortunately, she hadn’t seen him around much within the last few weeks, and since she couldn’t detect him with that goddamn mental shield of his, she had to wait. When Jaden Harkness had to wait to exchange words with someone, well…that was never a good thing to do. 

Perhaps she should have been Wrath of the Nephilim because once she got riled up over something, her temper was about as dangerous and wild as Avalon’s fire. She was righteously pissed off at the other council member. He had invited this girl, created by a human scientist’s own hand within C.A.R.M.A. For all intents and purposes, Jim could have royally screwed over the whole Nephilim. Sure, Summer seemed genuinely interested in their cause, but Jaden never trusted anything easily, and Jim still almost compromised their safety without even a single thought. So, when she finally saw Jim Irons in the hallway of the mansion, all hell broke loose within the magician. 

“Yo, Jimmy Neutron!” the brunette called out, turning on her heel and storming towards him. She raised her hand, and used her telekinesis to send the other Nephilim flying back into the far wall before he could see it coming, and propelled herself at high speed after him, pinning him there with only inches of space separating the two of them, her hand roughly pressing against his throat, but not squeezing it…yet. She wasn’t looking for a fight, but she wanted Jim to know that she meant some serious fucking business here. Every detail of her delicate features was contorted and twisted in obvious rage, her green eyes narrowed into a dangerous glare up at the older man. She was practically shouting at him as she continued on. “What the absolute flying fuck were you thinking bringing in that C.A.R.M.A pet, and knowing how she was created? Did you even think to let Mari or I know that before you just handed a possible traitor the key to our mansion? Or are you purposely trying to fuck us all over?” 

@jimxirons

got7 as animals

jb: “there isn’t any member in particular that doesn’t listen to me…because they all don’t listen to me”

mark: “…” *does a flip because actions speak louder than words*

jackson: “one of the fans asked me what did i eat to become so hot and i said… rice? AH-HAAAAAAAAAA”

junior: “i don’t really know much about dogs. i like chameleons.”

youngjae: “it’s not hard” *smiles*

bambam: "wow…look at those legs”

yugyeom: “though i’m the maknae i want to be called cool and not cute!” *pouts like a five year old*

igot7s: “i’m so fcking done with these kids” *continues to search for got7 photos to like/reblog*

||bts as animals||

Secret Identity (lame title kms)

Word Count: 1.9k

Genre: Angsty trans!Phil

Warnings: Abuse!! Depression!! 

A/N: I actually really enjoyed writing this like wow, but I like the beginning more than the end oops :/ Sorry if it sucks, I really tried <3

Phil had a secret. In Dan’s eyes, he was a normal 22 year old guy living at home with his parents. He was close to his family and got on well with his brother Martyn. They went on holidays together, took trips to the cinema, and even had frequent pizza nights that Dan was often invited to. Things were great for Phil from Dan’s perspective.

What he didn’t know was Phil wasn’t happy. His dad hated him, and made that very clear through the medium of verbal and physical abuse. Hell fire consumed Phil’s days where he was constantly reminded of how abnormal he was, and that he should go straight back to hell.

It was funny, because he was practically the son of the devil.

Phil’s secret was really only know by a select few. His family (sadly, he had no choice in that one), his friend Anya, and his doctor. Really anyone who had known him before age 17 knew. It wasn’t something he could really hide either, it was more of a physical ordeal.

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“You’re so beautiful.”

Callie turned away from the pan she was tending on the stove, her eyes glancing toward the table where Arizona was simply watching her; blue eyes tracking her, a smile curving easily on her lips.

“Right now?” the brunette looked down at herself – her body clad in purple sleep shorts and an old faded t-shirt, her hair hanging loose and tousled after taking it down from the day’s ponytail, “wow, your standards have really lowered over the years…”

So beautiful. Callie, you are just…”

Arizona paused, words lingering in the air between them as she studied the woman in front of her.

“I’m cooking supper in my pajamas–”

“You’re radiant. You have never looked more stunning.”

Callie couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at her lips, a barely noticeable blush colouring her cheeks as the blonde spoke again softly. She took a few steps across the kitchen until she was nestled between Arizona’s knees, her hands smoothing over soft, bare shoulders, and when blue eyes met hers she leaned down to share a sweet, gentle kiss with the love of her life. 

“It’s because I’m happy. And you are so beautiful too, Arizona – you have no idea.”

Arizona smiled as Callie kissed her again, wrapping her arms around the other woman’s waist, and she let out the smallest, content sigh at the thought that they had finally, finally gotten things right. That they were here, in a home they shared again, cooking supper and talking about their day and just…being together. Being more amazing than ever.

She kissed Callie once more, her fingers stroking lightly under the hem of her t-shirt, and felt an unparalleled wave of emotion as she murmured her next words.

“Love looks good on us.”

.

2

While I’m here, might as well post this.
If you’re a nerd, you probably have made oc’s at some point in your life. If you’ve been a nerd for a while, you probably have some pretty old, really cringe worthy oc’s. Two years ago, little weeb me made the character on the left: a ninja!!! who has magical powers!!! and she has cat ears and a tail!!! (She also had a “Japanese” name that was literally random words like darkness or something like that.) Wow, I need to go talk some sense into younger me. However, since I can’t go back in time, I decided to reinvent the concept. I drew her with better proportions, and a better body type that makes her look a little more like she can fight someone. I also redesigned the costume because, while dresses are “cute”, I wouldn’t want to fight and be stealthy in one. And finally, NO MORE CAT EARS.

Harry and Louis don’t need words for talking because they do that with their eyes.
—  My 9 years old cousin.
a concept

you and I are driving down highways and country roads. some days the wind is blowing through our hair and we’re screaming twenty one pilots at the top of our lungs. other days dust is flinging itself against the windows and we’re riding in such a heavy silence that if I were with anyone else I might think something was wrong. but we’re safe. we’re okay.

the seats are old leather and they smell funny and we always have to park in the shade because otherwise they heat up and our legs melt into the seats. they’ve been soaked one too many times with rainwater from when we were trying too hard at catching the raindrops in our hair and our eyes and our mouths to pull up the roof. maybe you should have kept your eyes on the road, but we’re still alive, and we’re still breathing, and god everything feels so much more real than it did before.

your friend called and asked us if we could pick them up the next time we swung through town. you said no. you could have said that I didn’t know them, that we’re not swinging back through town until at least the next time it snows enough that the roads ice over and school lets out early for the kids from your old high school, but instead you told him about how little foot room there is in the backseat.

it’s true. my brother and I spent hours of our childhood pitching how much we needed a new car to mom and dad because we couldn’t move our feet from where they were trapped under our parents’ seats. you said you liked the red leather and I told you you didn’t have to see it every day. I guess I spoke too soon.

sometimes I think it’s a little weird that I have a standing call on shotgun in the car that I grew up in, but it feels like those keys were your birthright and I trust you more with this antique, not nearly mint condition Mustang than I trust myself with my own life. it’s a miracle you can drive this monstrosity; it’s a bigger miracle that this car doesn’t break down every time we hit 60. just every once in a while. 

there’s an entire quarter collection that my dad stole from me buried in the cracks between the cushions and where the seatbelts come out and the gap between the passenger seat and the door, but even if we’re strapped for cash we never touch it.

one of my brother’s baby teeth is trapped under the passenger seat. when he was seven, he made twelve dollars gambling against our mom on when he would lose that tooth.

there’s a piece of gum from when you couldn’t get out of the car to a trash can in the middle of the night somewhere around the Great Lakes that you stuck to the latch of the glove compartment. it’s okay; it closes easier this way. 

the footspace for the passenger seat is cluttered with dozens of brochures and pamphlets; the dashboard is littered with tickets to plays and movies and concerts from Juárez to Albany. 

whenever we hit 80 on an empty highway, another post-it note flies out from under the rattling windshield wipers, screaming “ur my favorite nerd” like a stream of obscenities or flashing us with an angry penguin critiquing the politicians on tv last night.

we breeze into West Coast art galleries and you tell me which pieces mean the most to you; you translate brushstrokes and colors and chaos into different languages for me. I commit the names to memory for if we ever want to stop crisscrossing the country so I can buy them for you with money we both know I don’t have. 

when you’ve talked yourself down the steep trail from those emotional cliffs you wait for me to catch up to you at the top of a hill and I breathlessly tell you what the art reminds me of. it’s nothing poetic or romantic or intensely personal, except when it is. I recite entire artistic movements, give you the scoop on nineteenth century Eastern European politics, spout social movements from memory and I’m surprised every time you follow along with me past the point when even I don’t know what I’m saying anymore.

when we leave those galleries we turn right back around and investigate museums and exhibits on the East Coast. you take notes in tidy handwriting on the palms of your hands detailing the lives of the stars, complete with illustrations, and you take pictures of everything that isn’t fragile or sensitive to light. you take pictures of me. you take pictures of us. you take pictures of the people drifting through open doors and closed doors and windows and walls around us. I lean in close and whisper questions into your left ear, breath the details of ghosts’ dreams into your right.

somewhere in the Midwest amidst cornfields and small town football games, we calm down a little. everything becomes a whisper. I sit next to you in tiny motel rooms.

you use your pencil like a vortex, suck the dirty walls into sketchbooks. you make the pages bleed snow and sweat and laughter. sometimes you drag me out of front doors in the middle of the night when you can’t sleep, we take off down the road again. no fast take offs or skid marks. just the engine choking before we drive out, quiet and calm but with our hearts in our throats.

I huddle over books and articles and my laptop and my phone, learn everything there is to learn about anything but not everything. when I breath out through my nose and smile you look up and ask me what’s up. I look up at you and I narrate entire lives in a stage whisper.

by the time we’ve visited all the best museums a few times, the wind has picked up on Route 66 and we both know, but don’t say, that it’s because the ghosts and memories I’ve been breathing into your ear are trailing behind us, always there. when a breeze picks up in Colorado, I smile and you laugh out loud because we can hear the chatter of crowds you photographed in Chicago, the hushed tones of people you sketched in Memphis, the panting of dogs you pet in New Jersey.

it starts to snow and the snow starts to melt and the snow freezes on the roads. we slow down, just a little.

BTS reactions when you cut your hair:

V: “I love it. I love you”

Jimin: “We’re in public right now, so I’m going to contain the urge to squeal like a five year old girl OK? OK.

Suga: “Fuck. Wow..”

J-hope: “You wanna kill me right?”

Rap Monster: “Whoa. Yes.”

Jin: *just stares because you look the same yet completely different*

Jungkook: I don’t know. I mean, you’re still really pretty.”

wtf, like im listening to bb’s old music again [2006 - 2010] and honestly they were so great even as rookies or whatever. there is no group like them ??? 

HELLO BOOK BLOG PEEPS

so yeah this is me, themindofactionbooklover, aka Joseph aka me. 

I’ve had the url themindofafictionbooklover for like almost 3 years. I picked it randomly at like 2am one night when I just wanted to find a url so I could start a side blog about books. 3 weeks ago I made a post about how “i always want to change my url but I also really love this one mainly because its relevant and also because i’ve had it so long” My problem with it mainly was it was just a mouth full and I was like ugh and over it?? idk maybe idk idk. 

A little while back I saved this url (theboywhocriedbooks) because I thought “wow thats beautiful, it 1. expresses that I’m a boy. 2, is only five 1 syllable words (compared to the 7 word/9syllables other one). 3, its short and to the point. 4, its a funny twist on the old fable everyone knows. 5, I often find myself crying about books or just crying the word books and also crying (as in to call/shout) about books (to everyone).  so yeah. I will be TRYING this one out. I have my old one saved obvi and also put it so that any links to that one should redirect here. for now. cos trying it out. I mean, I’m always gonna be themindofafictionbooklover and this blog is always going to literally be my mind, which belongs to a book lover so…. 

SMC Ep 17

I’m sad. I love Jupiter, and this episode looked like shit. And here I thought they’d put some effort into it, since the preview looked nice.

Is it really THAT hard to draw ears right? He isn’t even moving for fucks sake. Why do they even hire people who can’t draw? I don’t get it.

I felt so sorry for Mamoru this episode.

Her entire attack sequence looks horrible. Don’t do foreshortening if you don’t know how it works.

… I have no words.

Wow. This is starting to remind me of One Piece. They love to reuse old footage for that too. I felt like stabbing my eyes out after watching the same crowd cheer for the billionth time during the Dressrosa arena episodes.

Also, where the fuck is Unazuki? They just erased Motoki’s sister out of existence. -_-