yes our way!

being multilingual like...

What people think it’s like:

  • *speaks multiple languages fluently on command*
  • *is very sophisticated*

What it’s actually like:

  • constantly speaking to people in the wrong language
  • managing to squeeze 3 or 4 languages into one sentence without noticing
  • gradually forgetting your first and second language, while not speaking anything fluently anymore. not even your first language is safe
  • Grammar? What grammar? Which grammar??!!
  • being permanently confused
  • can’t even order bread at a Danish bakery after 2 years of language training
  • cry and curse yourself for moving somewhere where they don’t speak English or your first language. but mostly cry. and weep

“stop drawing damien in a binder it’s fetishistic” im sorry janet we just get literally no trans characters in any media ever that aren’t painted as a miserable depressed bastard with that being the only element of their character so we’d like to celebrate finally having good trans rep thanks

why can you guys remember that trans women were fundamental in starting the lgbt+ movement yet conveniently forget that a number of them were bisexual themselves just so that you can lump bi and cishet aces/cishet aros/cis acearos together as allegedly both being groups that haven’t always been here. bi people have always been here. the ace community in and of itself didn’t exist until the 2000s.


It’s shameless the way the spouse and I flirt.

eruthiawenluin  asked:

Maybe the reason they focused so much on Dean's angst re: Cas and not Sam's is because they didn't want Sam's to overshadow his :^) I mean, when Cas comes back, there's bound to be some very very good Sam and Cas bonding… After all, Sam and Cas are Jack's uber-protective dads now.

PLEASE. If Sam actually gets substantial and meaningful time bonding with Cas when he returns, I will eat my socks and sob with joy (at the same time, probably).

Simon Imagine - Protect

REQUESTED:  “Can you write a Simon image where he’s super protective over the reader when they’re out at a party?”

“Holy shit you look good.” 

I smiled as a pair of arms snaked around my waist. 

“Thank you. Shall we go?”

“You know,” he kept a hand on each hip, pulling me closer towards him. “I think I’d rather stay in.”

I rolled my eyes as I pecked his lips before turning to grab my bag. 

“Not tonight, Simon. It’s Cal’s 25th - this is a big deal!”

Simon pouted at me, his hands moving back to my waist, stroking up and down the velvet of my dress. I pressed a hand to his cheek. 

“Don’t pout at me. We won’t be long, okay.”

“Ugh, okay.” He groaned as I dragged him outside and into the taxi.

The minute we arrived at the tower his arm was around my waist. Even as Callum opened the door, enveloping me into a warm embrace, Simon’s hand lingered uncomfortably. I gave him a questioning look, to which he simply shrugged.

“I’m gonna go and get a drink,” I informed Simon and he nodded reluctantly. As I made my way to the drinks table I clashed into someone.

“Oh! Hi!”

“Hey, Y/n, sorry about that! Wow you look good.”

I blushed at the compliment as Freezy rested a hand on my arm.

“Thank you, Callum.”

“It’s no problem love. So how are things? It’s been a while!”

We made warm small talk as I grabbed a plastic cup, filling it to the brim. I informed Callum of my new job, how I would be moving to London for university. He responded, telling me how his girlfriend was doing a degree in London and how expensive it had been. I smiled in appreciation of his presence.

“So speaking of relationships, you still with Simon? How’s that going?”

“Yeah I-”

“It’s great thanks.”

The liqueur in my cup spilt onto the floor as I jumped at Simon’s interruption. His voice was monotone as he again wrapped his arm around me, his fingers stroking along my shoulder blade. Callum gave Simon a bemused look before holding up his hands and backing away, responding clearly to a comment Simon had silently given behind me. I turned around.

“Simon! That was rude!”

“I didn’t like the way he was looking at you.”

“Looking at me? Simon we were literally talking about his own girlfriend!”

“Y/n that doesn’t mean fuck all. I know him better than you do.”

“You’re being crazy.”

“You make me crazy.”

I bit back a proud smile and forced a sarcastic look as I refilled my cup. Simon stood close behind me, watching me do so. 

“Are you just gonna follow me all night?” 


We made our way to the dance floor and joined the rest of the boys and their girlfriends. As I got drunker, I became braver, engaging in a lot of silly and borderline provocative dancing with Freya and Sarah. I felt Simon’s eyes on me the entire time, which only fueled my enjoyment. I watched his face become progressively more frustrated and I simply ignored it, wanting to tease. Before I knew it he was grabbing my hand and pulling me out onto the balcony.

“Simon! I was having fun!”

“Y/n, you’re taking the piss.”

“By having fun?”

“By teasing me!”

He put a hand by either side of me, pushing me up against the railing and breathing into my neck. I felt his groin against mine and I silently squirmed. 

“Sorry, Simon.”

“Oh you will be.”

PLS READ ok so idk if this was kinda shitty/borderline abusive? its v hard to write a protective scenario without it becoming controlling. so idk tell me what u think also sorry it was short!!


24: Ups, you shouldn’t have seen me

Santa Kuro wanted to make sure you all have nice christmas presents, but I guess he got spotted. A Merry Christmas! I hope you had a nice day in any way. Thank you for participating in and following the calendar event. Santa Kuro and I had much fun on our way (yes, even Santa Kuro) thaha, bye~  

And now here is the thing I’ve been secretly so excited over for the past two and a half weeks or so! This beautiful commission from artist acedrawin who is wonderful and does wonderful work!

So thanks to spaceoperetta coming up with a crossover AU for Ace Attorney and best TV show ever Slings & Arrows, this Narumitsu idea has refused to leave my head. In short, post-disbarment Phoenix goes back to his theatre roots and ends up as a director for a struggling theatre company while dodging rumors that he’s “mentally unstable.” Which isn’t very easy to do when the love of your life won’t stop talking to you and arguing with you about Shakespeare. Especially if the love of your life is a ghost that only you can see and hear.

And one very important thing I think I need to point out here: the dialogue they’re speaking in this art is actually from Hamlet. Okay, Miles’ line is a paraphrase, but Phoenix’s is word-for-word. I am not making this up.

Kenneth Branagh interview: ‘Tom Hiddleston and I were always honest about Hamlet’

Kenneth Branagh has directed the theatrical event of 2017 – but there will be no encore, he says 

Kenneth Branagh is bounding about on stage at RADA’s Vanbrugh Theatre in Bloomsbury, central London. As well as being one of the country’s best-known actors and a feted film director, he’s also president of the oldest, most prestigious drama school in the UK, and everything about his bearing suggests confidence and an ownership of this plush space. But at this precise point, he’s recalling the moment in 1979 when he recited a soliloquy from Hamlet – “Oh what a rogue and peasant slave am I…” – in front of the Queen and Prince Philip to mark the school’s 75th anniversary.

He gestures round the intimate auditorium, incredulous: “There was John Gielgud, Ralph Richardson, Edward Fox, John Hurt, all these people – and the Queen of England! I was about 19. Talk about learning to deal with nerves!” At the end, the Queen asked him how he managed to remember his lines. He meekly replied that he didn’t know.

In contrast to that daunting rite of passage, Tom Hiddleston – playing the Dane under Branagh’s direction in a special fundraising production at the school, where Hiddleston also trained – might be thought to have got off lightly. Yet he too has felt the heat this past month. A huge talking point, “Hiddleham” has eclipsed this year’s putative standout account of the part from Sherlock star Andrew Scott.

Hiddleston, 36, became a household name in the UK on the back of his brooding (and bottom-baring) turn on The Night Manager, and has gained an international fan base playing Loki in Marvel’s Thor series, a role Branagh cast him in when he directed the first of three Thor films in 2011. Tickets for his pop-up performance at RADA – allocated by ballot for the three-week run – have been like gold dust and there has been much wailing and teeth gnashing from those, including critics, excluded from this collector’s item event. Even the Guardian’s film critic pleaded for the production to be “beamed into Britain’s movie theatres”.

That’s not going to happen, Sir Ken affirms as the final performances loom this weekend, arguing that the 160-seater Vanbrugh “isn’t set up to do a big-screen transfer – though I embrace that idea in other venues. I am pro accessibility”. He also rules out the production having a further life. “We have been honest from the word go. No one was in an option to go to the West End – and there have been no conversations with Tom about doing it again down the line.”

Rather incredibly, neither he nor Hiddleston seems to have fully anticipated the demand. “I’m very, very surprised at the amount of attention it has got,” he confesses, suavely dressed in dark blue blazer and jeans, still boyish at 56. His leading man even worried there might be empty seats. “We thought we should do a ballot, because we knew he had fans, but Tom was very sweet about it and genuinely asked ‘Do you think we’ll sell out?’”

Branagh was the golden boy of British theatre who slightly got people’s backs up in his heyday, what with his get-ahead work ethic, the precocious age at which he penned his autobiography Beginning – just 28 – and the public relationship that played out between himself and first wife Emma Thompson, popularly referred to as Ken and Em. Has he got people’s backs up again?

“I hope not. Of course, you never want to disappoint anyone,” Branagh protests. “You have to accept a choice has been made. It was about being here, using this setting, for this purpose. We wanted to do an intimate, psychologically focused staging.”

For Hiddleston, a formidable Coriolanus at the Donmar in 2013, the challenge was to stretch himself at close quarters: “He wanted to discover an emotional depth that might have surprised people who consider him a cerebral actor.” In an interpolated opening scene, the audience sees the black clad prince of Denmark at the piano mourning his dead father in song – “He’s this raw, grieving thing,” says Branagh.

No play in the canon has fascinated Branagh more. Seeing Derek Jacobi play Hamlet as a teenager in Oxford changed his life. He got the role outright at RADA in his final year, then made his name with it in the late Eighties with his trailblazing company Renaissance, reprising it again for the RSC in the early Nineties. Then there was his adieu to the part in his star-studded 1996 film adaptation that found little favour at the box office but a lot of admirers among critics.

“That I should have pursued the play’s mysteries so assiduously continues to puzzle me,” he wrote in a foreword to the screenplay. Reflecting on his obsession now, he says: “Gielgud summed it perfectly as being about the process of living, of having to deal with the problem of losing the people you love. At my age you feel that keenly.”

Some say there’s something rotten in the state of acting; that thanks in part to the profile of public school alumni such as Hiddleston, Benedict Cumberbatch, Damian Lewis and Eddie Redmayne, it’s the toffs who get to the top. Branagh disagrees. “Tom will tell you that he was the only one in his year at RADA from a so-called posh background. Some 70 per cent of the people who come here receive financial assistance from us. No social group is excluded. The success of these actors resembles a wave but it’s not a trend. When working-class actors came to the fore in the Sixties, middle-class actors said: ‘Unless we have a regional accent and a rough diamond story, we can’t get a job’. But those are exaggerations.”

Things go in cycles, not least Branagh’s own fortunes. His Hollywood film career as both actor and director is burgeoning once more (after his critically slighted Frankenstein in 1994 he talked of having acquired “failure disease”, so pained were the glances strangers gave him).

He gave a sterling performance this summer as the visibly blanching naval commander evacuating terrified troops in Dunkirk, an opportunity for him to watch director Christopher Nolan in action. “It was remarkable seeing [Nolan] up there at the canvas, absolutely possessed by this thing, smart as a nut.”

His latest directorial project, a revamp of Agatha Christie’s Murder on the Orient Express, with a cast including Johnny Depp, Judi Dench, Derek Jacobi – and himself playing Poirot – is due for release in November.  How can he improve on David Suchet’s performance? “You tip your hat to people who have played him before but it’s only the part that counts. I discovered Poirot is a surprisingly emotional character – compassionate and morally complex.”

For the moment, the “Branagh-bashing” as he himself called it in his autobiography – seems to have stopped. “My parents drummed into me not to get above myself, though that’s the sin I’ve been accused of throughout my career. I’ve had plenty of kickings, I will have plenty more but if you’re going through hell, the best thing is to keep going.”

At one point, the pressure was so intense it took all his courage to go back on stage. An actor friend of his, Jimmy Yuill, never forgot witnessing his opening night terror in 2002 at Sheffield, where Branagh was playing Richard III after a long hiatus from the theatre.

“I was in this contraption that was supposed to be realigning Richard’s spine. Jimmy told me: ‘I was coming down a corridor and heard this strange rattle and I realised it was your entire body shaking with fear’. I’m the other side of it now,” Branagh affirms, contentedly. The play is still the thing. “There are a few major Shakespearean roles circling and I hope to do more sooner rather than later.”

As for Hiddleston, fans shouldn’t feel distraught. “I’ve played Hamlet in four different productions, Derek Jacobi played it hundreds of times. And I’m sure Tom is interested in playing Benedick and Richard III. So, the public need to be assured that there will be a lot of pleasure coming our way.” Watch this space.

I know this is written right directly above, but I am putting it here again because it needs our attention: “…And I’m sure Tom is interested in playing Benedick and Richard III. So, the public need to be assured that there will be a lot of pleasure coming our way.” Yes, please!!!!!
With You, It's Different (John Laurens x Reader)

Words: 1417
Warnings: a lot of cursing, offensive language
Request?: No
Time Period: Modern AU
A/N: Sorry for the ask formatting again, wrote this on my tablet and didn’t feel like converting to the laptop!


There was nothing John Laurens hated more than annoying, loud, obnoxious, neighbors. And here he was. He just finished his shift at the hospital, and he was stuck listening to deafening music. He worked odd hours, so he could understand if someone had a party.

He looked at his clock.

It was six in the fucking morning. There are no parties that are still going on. At. Six. In. The. Fucking. Morning. Okay, maybe he was being slightly unreasonable. I mean, he was living in an apartment in the city. And his friend’s constantly teased him about being an old man after getting this job. But he was exhausted.

Keep reading

im feeling weirdly protective of the hiveswap fandom now like no its not just a continuation of the hs fandom, i really hope we become our own thing and dont push out prospective fans because its just “a homestuck thing”

Plus, she’s amazing !

Part 2 

Requested by anon 

plus!sized reader x Luke Alvez

Title : Plus, she’s amazing !

Pairing : Luke Alvez x reader

POV : Reader’s

Word count : 2718 (I have been deprived of feelings okay don’t judge me)

 A/n - I literally went wild with this and tried to write a more positive story because most plus!sized reader fics are kind of depressing. I still touch upon insecurities, but it’s far more light hearted. This will also be a multi chapter fic if you guys want :)

Thank’s to @madamredwrites for the title, you are amazing <3 and @lostdreamsanddeadroses for beta reading this piece of fan trash :)

Also thanks to @happilygubler, @sassygeek77 and @zugzwangxo who encouraged me to write Luke Alvez fics. WE NEED MORE!!!

Originally posted by emilyprentiss

This had to go well. Andi left the unit under you, you had to do this right. You were familiar with the BAU. Garcia and you were good friends but you hadn’t met the team at all and it was frustrating. “You’ve got this Y/N, the force is one with you.” you mumbled, playing with your necklace. The elevator doors dinged open and you stepped out, heading straight for the doors where a group of people stood crowded around a few desks in the bullpen. You recognized the lanky tall one to be Spencer from Penelope’s polaroid wall. He looked quite different with the 4th doctor get up. You also recognized Prentiss, the new unit chief, who seemed to be in the middle of a briefing.

Keep reading

walker-of-yggdrasil  asked:

Angs prompt idea :) : Kylo turn back to the light and become Ben Solo again and Hux expect to stay with him in sake of their love (maybe he want to redeem himself too ?) Except that Ben is now disgusted by him/ forgot totally about him and only see him as a fanatic terrorist (I'm sorry :D)


Hux can’t help but stand from the bench in his cell and leap towards the door when he sees Kylo suddenly standing on the other side, finally come to his lover’s rescue. Hux has been imprisoned by these barbaric bounty hunters for weeks now, spending every second of his time in captivity wishing to see his brave and beautiful knight on the other side of the door.

But as Hux stares at Kylo through the reinforced glass, he doesn’t feel the sense of elation he thought he would.

Kylo looks…different. Instead of his infamous black robes, he’s wearing a pair of navy slacks, a white shirt and a black vest. Even his hair; the luscious locks of dark hair that Hux hated to love is tied back into a messy bun at the nape of his neck, hidden as though forbidding Hux from running his fingers through it like he’s missed doing.

Kylo’s dark eyes are filled with light, a sparkle that looks like hope and no sign of any sort of darkness that Kylo’s soul is supposed to be filled with. Hux swallows hard but regardless, as soon as Kylo has opened the door to his cell, Hux’s arms are around his neck in the strongest hug he’s ever given. Having his lover come to his rescue is almost enough to send Hux into tears but he holds them back, burying his face in Kylo’s shoulder.

Only when Hux’s mind has quietened does he realise that Kylo has remained abnormally still.

“Ren?” Hux whispers, frowning. “Why won’t you hold me?”

As Hux’s wishes, Kylo’s hands find themselves on his waist and, for a moment, the galaxy is right.

But even the burn of a sun’s supernova wouldn’t be as painful as feeling Kylo’s hands push him away. Hux stumbles back with a startled gasp, eyes wide with fear.

“Ren?” Hux doesn’t understand. The man in front of him looks like his Kylo but everything about his movements and expressions is screaming at Hux to back away from him.

The imposter flexes his fingers, and Hux can’t help but glance to the lightsaber hanging from his belt and then to the blaster in the holster on his opposite hip.

Kylo despises blasters.

“That’s not my name,” Kylo says, and Hux feels his stomach drop. “My name is Ben. Solo.”

“No,” Hux gasps, shaking his head. “Your name is Kylo Ren. Master of the Knights of Ren and heir to the Dark Side. Ben Solo is dead. You told me so yourself!”

Hux recalls the countless times that Kylo has recited stories from his childhood to him, telling him tales of a young boy called Ben who felt unloved and lost, a boy who was sacrificed in order for Kylo Ren to be born.

Hux shivers, feeling as though he’s staring down a ghost.

“The Resistance has bartered with your captors for your release, General,” Ben says, pulling a pair of thick binders off his belt. “And I’m here to arrest you.”

Hux opens his mouth to speak but a broken heave for air comes out instead, and he wonders whether the sound is his soul shattering into a thousand shards, piercing his heart, threatening to render him to his knees and beg for someone to wake him from this nightmare.

“It’d be best if you remained calm, Starkiller,” Ben sneers, spitting out the nickname that he’d whispered to Hux whilst kissing over his freckles, comparing them to stardust. “The Resistance are going to make you answer for your crimes against the galaxy. And snakes like you don’t deserve mercy.”

Ren, for stars sake! Snap out of it!” Hux cries, backhanding Ben across the face, whipping some hairs out of his bun. He hangs his head, hair obscuring his eyes. “They’ve done something to you! Manipulated you! It’s me, it’s your ‘Tidge, don’t do this. Please.”

Ben brings his communicator up to his lips, face still hidden to Hux’s eyes.

“This is Captain Solo. The prisoner is refusing to cooperate. I’m in need of back-up. Bring extra binders,” he says, and Hux flinches.

Yes, Captain. We’re on our way,” comes the static-y reply before Ben drops the comlink to the ground and stands up.

Hux’s breath is suddenly ripped away from him, an invisible hand curling around his throat as he’s pushed back to the wall, back hitting it with force to the point where he feels winded. Gasping, eyes wide, Hux clutches at his throat, terror swelling in every nerve when he looks up and sees the man he would give his final breath for attempting to steal it from him. Ben’s hand is outstretched, lip curled in a scowl, and Hux believes that his once-beautiful knight is going to kill him.

“K-Kylo…” Hux whispers, voice breaking, eyes slowly closing. “M-my moon and my s-stars.”

Ben falters for a moment, gasping as though in pain as he drops Hux from his Force-hold, and Hux can’t find the strength in his legs to hold himself up so collapses to the ground in a weakened heap, breathing ragged and broken. Tears stream down his cheeks, from the lack of air or from being completely heartbroken, Hux isn’t sure.

Either way, he doesn’t expect to look up and see Ben on his knees in front of him, eyes wide, dark and lost.

Ben cocks his head to the side as though a confused animal, eyebrows drawn together in a saddened frown, and Hux loses the remainder of his strength.

He lurches forwards, taking Ben’s plush lips up in a fervent and longing kiss, fill with desperation, a silent and absolute plea for Hux’s Ren to come back home.

“It’s me,” Hux whispers. “Ren. Wake up. This isn’t you.

Ben blinks hard, shaking his head, mouth falling open as though to finally say something

“Captain Solo!”

Hux flinches back when Ben stands up so abruptly, turning to face the gaggle of Resistance fighters who stand in the doorway, blasters trained on Hux.

“Cuff him,” one of the men says. “Get him back on the ship and lock him in the brig. Scum.”

Hux stares up at Ben, wanting to whisper his name but finds that it won’t come; he doesn’t believe Ben is the name of the man in front of him. They’d kissed—and Ben had kissed him back.

He doesn’t take note of the binders being snapped around his wrists, he doesn’t growl when he’s hauled to his feet, but he whimpers when he’s dragged past Ben and out of his cell, looking back over his shoulder at the lost boy standing alone.

Ben Solo is dead,’ Hux thinks, closing his eyes in some sort of relief. ‘Kylo Ren is alive. He’s alive.’

As he watches the Starkiller be dragged away, Ben reaches up and touches his lips, feeling as though a spark is nestled upon them, sending shivers down his spine, recalling how the General’s kiss had made him feel.

It felt familiar, it felt warm.

And it felt like home, like rushing in to your lover’s arms after a long time away, like falling into bed and sleeping next to each other, like existing with someone inside a bubble and not caring what the rest of the galaxy is doing because this is home.

But Ben pushes his hand against his throbbing temple. This couldn’t be: this is the first time he’s even met General Armitage Hux. That’s what his mother and uncle have told him.

And his family wouldn’t lie….would they?