#also why am i not fluent in danish

[valentine-cafe]

. ˚◞♡ 𝒊𝒇 𝒘𝒆'𝒗𝒆 𝒐𝒏𝒍𝒚 𝒈𝒐𝒕 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆 — 𝒊𝒏 𝒕𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒂𝒅𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒖𝒓𝒆, 𝒐𝒉 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒏 𝑰, 𝒘𝒂𝒏𝒕 𝒕𝒐 𝒔𝒉𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒊𝒕 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖◞ ₊˚

⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ meet the writers ꒱

˖ ࣪ we decided to put a little bio together for you all to get to know us better!

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍰 ꒱ 𝒆𝒅𝒆𝒏

˖ ࣪ ଓ writer and aspiring artist, editor who pulls her hair out over aesthetics a bit too much. they call me the aesthetic demon and angst monster 🩷 

˖ ࣪ ଓ the pink enthusiast on this blog <3

˖ ࣪ ଓ indian ( a strange mix of north and south bc of families mixing )

˖ ࣪ ଓ I’m a native english speaker who can speak some hindi and tamil, brushing up on my telegu. learning variations of spanish, italian ( hopefully ) and chinese ( CRIES )

˖ ࣪ ଓ pansexual aromantic and some variation of genderqueer but generally fem-presenting, uses any pronouns! ( except for it/its )

˖ ࣪ ଓ lovvvesss SWEETS, a bit of a cookiemonster 

˖ ࣪ ଓ former fencer and pianist, music composer and dramatic arts student ( STEM MAJOR AND HATED IT IIIII BELONG TO THE LITERATURE )

˖ ࣪ ଓ aspiring to be an english literature or creative writing professor 

˖ ࣪ ଓ I’m a pink fairy<3 ( or so howl says )

˖ ࣪ ଓ really don’t like moths, or the dark or the ocean -

˖ ࣪ ଓ adore flowers! roses especially

˖ ࣪ ଓ love cooking but never ever let me because there’s always a disaster 

˖ ࣪ ଓ snakes are my babies along with fishies 

˖ ࣪ ଓ copper’s defence attorney + talisen’s 928b’s wifey<3 ( sighs, just in general a whore for all the talisens/jingyis )

˖ ࣪ ଓ reaperfucker, reapersexual, reaperromantic ( haoyu is my bbg )

˖ ࣪ ଓ you can find my private blog @edensrose

˖ ࣪ ଓ help me steal a plane so I can get to my SPOUSE

˗ˏˋ꒰ ☕️ ꒱ 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒍 / 𝒉𝒐𝒘𝒆𝒍𝒍 ( whichever you prefer, amore )

˖ ࣪ ଓ hello, I am howl. the eldritch artist, poet and writer, that was cast down to earth with a mission to spread some creativity and a little bit of chaos, but ended up being sold to an eldritch zoo in the 1950s for my crimes of writing too much hardcore angst.

˖ ࣪ ଓ bit of a blue devil if I say so myself — hand me something that is blue and I will steal it.

˖ ࣪ ଓ danish Italian ( with lots of other family in the mixing pot — hence why I speak and learn some specific languages )

˖ ࣪ ଓ as for the languages, I speak a bit of spanish, danish ( first language ), understand swedish, I am fluent in english and I am currently learning italian to reconnect with roots and I am trying to learn chinese.

˖ ࣪ ଓ unlabeled nonbinary ( they/them ) aromantic — one might notice that from time to time my mascot’s appearance changes in the art I make, depending on how I feel during the days I create.

˖ ࣪ ଓ SPICY FOOD LOVER RAAHH, give me all the spicy foods. also, licorice lover if you don’t like the salty licorice, hand it over to me <3

˖ ࣪ ଓ aspiring to be an author, graphics designer and artist that can one day teach art or share my art with the world and inspire other creators and artists.

˖ ࣪ ଓ former theatre student, I did improv and composed songs for the pieces that were made.

˖ ࣪ ଓ I am an eldritch being that follows eden around in all of her lives.

˖ ࣪ ଓ thalassophobic, also have claustrophobia, don’t like narrow stair cases that tilt.

˖ ࣪ ଓ PARENT OF TWO BEAUTIFUL CATS NAMED LUNA AND LUDO. ( yes eden is their mama )

˖ ࣪ ଓ I really like willow trees and lilies. ( all lilies really ! )

˖ ࣪ ଓ love cooking, it is one of my love languages, along with making art of the people I love!

˖ ࣪ ଓ 1 ᴀʟᴇꜱꜱɪᴏ Qᴜᴇʀɪᴅᴏ ᴅᴇꜰᴇɴᴅᴇʀ  + alessio and rishen 928b’s SPOUTH ( I want all of dee alessios and rishens )

˖ ࣪ ଓ you can find my personal account here @bluezenzennie

˖ ࣪ ଓ the proudest whoreluthoe <3.

˖ ࣪ ଓ if you see me running down the streets at 3AM with a bunch of plane tickets, no you don’t.

˗ˏˋ꒰ 🍡 ꒱𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒋𝒐𝒖𝒓𝒏𝒆𝒚

˖ ࣪ ଓ just two sillies who created a world together and are joined at the hip<3

˖ ࣪ ଓ we’re both 19+ 

˖ ࣪ ଓ we met via tumblr, may the fourth ( please don’t starwars jokes, we will not get them ), when howl sent some art to cheer up eden from the exam stress she was undergoing. the same day we began interacting about hobbies and ocs and our mutual interests in the fandoms we were in prior. we started chatting on discord and have been inseparable ever since 

˖ ࣪ ଓ we created this whimsical world on accident, by simply allowing our ocs to interact via tupperbots and silly headcanons. it soon turned serious when we discovered we were both fully invested in the lore of our accidentally created world and one day decided to make a blog to share it.

˖ ࣪ ଓ ever since we concluded we should make a blog, we eventually began getting bigger ideas and aspirations in our heads and we thought: “what if we made this world into a bookseries?” it was a joke at first. . . and then we spiralled down.

˖ ࣪ ଓ the world you see on this blog is only some of the new world and story to be featured in the books we are currently working on. we play around here with our connection to fandom but on the sidelines are creating something even bigger

˖ ࣪ ଓ we are very connected to our ocs as they are the reason that we have grown as close as we have, along other personal factors. that said, it was these ocs that brought a lot of this friendship into blossom.

˖ ࣪ ଓ we are SPOUSES married with candied rings 

˖ ࣪ ଓ we keep one another out of trouble ( especially howl with eden SIGHS ) and fly around like two chaotic birdies just wishing to create and make our dreams come true. one day we hope to meet one another ( since we live on opposite sides of the entire fucking ocean )

˖ ࣪ ଓ . . . but we’ll make a plan and have fun while doing so <3

˖ ࣪ art done by howl, a little illustration of our personas 🩷🩵

#⊹ ۪ ࣪ ᥫ᭡ the café checkin — meet the writers ꒱ #terato #terato x reader #teratophillia #howl's art

[meltingmomentum]

My brain, as I am trying to start applying for jobs: I am not qualified for anything, I've wasted the last x years of my life what even have i been doing with myself, I'm never going to go anywhere I'll be stuck forever (insert lots of negative adjectives to describe myself).

so finishing grad school during a pandemic while in a foreign country is fun... (/s)

#job application #masters degree #negative #personal #ahhhhhhhhhhh #is literally my continual internal narrative #i just want to skip to the part where i know what im doing next with my life #and like. theres so much effort in many different directions for some types of applications and i dont know if i even have a chance in hell #at those type of jobs #fucking and is it worth submitting to them #also why am i not fluent in danish

[missorgana]

can’t say anything to your face

pairing: bucky barnes/sam wilson

fandom: marvel cinematic universe

rating: teen and up

word count: 7779

warning: swearing, alcohol, brief mention of death

summary: Bucky loves Sam, and he tells him so, in his own way. (mostly canon compliant sambucky pining)

(my longest fic yet??? since TFATWS is still taking over my life, here’s some more sambucky fluff slash angst. they’re everything to me. this thing is a bit self-indulgent too, after the idea from this tweet! so all thanks to twitter user @/SAMBUCKY616 for this concept, even tho my danish is probably not the best interpretation jgdjd.... oh well! and thank you to Cat / @wendigostag as always, because you convinced me to write it and beta read and just..... ur perfect. mwah! hope you all enjoy this???)

read on ao3

A remnant that sticks with Bucky, still sticks with him after he’s rid of the Winter Soldier for good, is the language.

The only good thing, really. He could live without every one of the screams he hears in his dreams and lifeless bodies imprinted on his retinas, but that sticks on too, real tight. Being fluent in more languages than he imagined to be is bearable.

Not exactly bearable, though, not when many of them are tainted with those memories that he tries to distance himself to when he’s awake. He’s learning. It’s harder at night, when there’s darkness and stillness and no distractions from what creeps up on him every time.

French is hard. He knows every word to express the chaos in his head, but he can’t pronounce them. German, too. Russian, Spanish, Mandarin. He’s especially fond of Arabic, which is also particularly difficult for him to dig up from his brain, not because he doesn’t remember it, but because the screams in his head get too loud for him to think.

It’s a shame.

There’s one exception in his, quite frankly, extensively large vocabulary, and that’s Danish.

Bucky doesn’t know why this language in particular was something the Winter Soldier (he usually tries to think of him as a separate entity altogether, because, well, it hurts less) needed, given that, as far as his memory reaches, it was never used.

And this is why he finds himself drawn to it.

Of course, English is what he speaks on a day-to-day basis, and it feels… mostly normal. But somehow, Danish becomes a thing of comfort. Or safety, more likely.

He’s pretty sure his pronunciation sounds like absolute hell, the words sometimes more harsh than he intends, making him want to turn himself inside out in embarrassment. All these feelings, they’re difficult to describe.

Especially the ones relating to Sam Wilson.

Sam. 

Sam, Sam, Sam. He’s the only other constant visitor in the back of his mind, and whether that’s a good or a bad thing, up for discussion. A welcome distraction or… something more painful.

Yeah, this feeling is a hard one. Maybe it’s because it’s more than two decades since he’s felt it, or maybe he knows, deep down, that he hasn't ever felt it at all.

Since they met, he’s sworn that he hated him. But he doesn’t. It’s so bleeding obvious he might as well get it tattooed on his forehead.

Annoying, positive, calm, vulnerable, perfect Sam. Perfect- ugh, yes, it’s the only word left for him to describe him. It makes sense, like a lightbulb flicked on in his head and since then it hasn’t stopped shining.

Bucky doesn’t really know how this happened. Why or when. Maybe it came to him in that final battle, finding himself living and breathing, and the very first person he saw, first of anything he put his eyes upon, was Sam.

Or maybe it already dawned upon him in Steve’s awfully cramped car, where Sam wouldn’t move his stupid seat up.

Regardless, along the way, his habit of mumbling to himself in the Danish tongue in frustration or anxiety has developed into a way of letting things he doesn’t want his… co-worker to hear flow through, and out into the wide world, without any worry.

If he says what he wants to yell at the top of his lungs, in a way Sam would understand, that could only be the last drop into the oblivion of hating the universe. 

He won’t feel that way. Sam is so… good. Bucky isn’t. He deserves better than that.

It’s easier this way, he tells himself. It’s fucking easier. He has a hard time keeping his rage toward himself inside, but he does it.

And that’s exactly what he does, when their reunion in the airport has them at each other’s throats again , and as Sam goes on ahead, refusing for him to follow (of course, he does follow, anyway), and Bucky can’t help himself.

“Jeg skal være sikker på at du kommer tilbage.”

He utters the words through slightly gritted teeth, not realising how his breathing picks up too quickly until the other man glances back at him from the entrance of the aircraft, “What did you say?”

It’s the first time he’s not cursed at himself, and Sam’s response makes him jump in his skin. Honestly, the realisation of the words only settles afterwards, and he knows there’s no way he understood it. Not only is Danish one of the least widespread languages, so the chance of Sam even being aware of it is less than microscopical, but his voice is also in a steady fight with the wind. Lucky for once, huh.

“Nothing,” he lies. Sam doesn’t look convinced. Bucky adds, “Talking to myself. I’m still coming with you.”

The sounds are too loud around them, making him all the more eager to get inside. One of the many wonderful side effects of the aftermath of being brainwashed? Massive, stubborn headaches.

Funny enough, the pain might just be getting worse when the man in front of him visibly sighs, “Suit yourself.”

…

Going after the Flag Smashers, getting their asses handed to them, a certain thorn in his eye showing up, it all goes too quick for Bucky to fully comprehend.

In the end, Sam saves his life, because it’s Sam. Sam, who put his trust in him when he didn’t know him, when he had absolutely no reason to, and yet he did. He’s been spending a lot of time scared that the other man will come to regret it.

And it’s when they’re off the road and the world stops moving, and suddenly, Bucky’s looming inches above Sam’s face, grass grazing and tickling their faces. Or he’d probably feel that, if he wasn’t biting his cheek so hard that he might draw blood.

Sam groans but doesn’t move an inch.

I want to kiss you so fucking bad, Bucky wants to say. But that would be the stupidest and most reckless decision of his yet. Instead, he swallows the words and tells him, “Could’ve used that shield.”

Sam’s grip on his arms tightens, “Get off of me.”

The other man’s voice is strained and he pushes him off, leaving him to stare at the sky with a certain feeling of numbness.

He’s prepared for a long walk back from wherever they’ve ended up, too, Bucky’s not really paying attention to the surroundings besides the road and Sam relieving the tension that’s built up between them (far from uncommon with them, he’s got to admit) with his usual joking jabs.

He didn’t welcome his apology for Redwing much. It’s true, he hated that droid, but that doesn’t mean he’s not sorry… although, deeper inside of him he knows he’s saying sorry for totally different reasons.

I’m sorry you got hurt, is what. I’m sorry you had to pull me out of the fire that I got us into.

“What’s going on in that big cyborg brain of yours?”

Bucky sighs non committedly, he’s heard this one before. “It’s computing.”

And Sam laughs, softly and with a warm tinge that makes it hard for him to keep walking like he doesn’t care. The man next to him tries to be smug, and in the past these pokes at him would get him riled up and walk away without sparing it another thought.

It’s different now. He looks at his smirk for just a second before turning his head, and it’s fine, he won’t notice, stop worrying.

Sam doesn’t hate him, he’s realised. He realised that a while ago, admittedly, but what’s more important to the pressing in Bucky’s chest, Sam doesn’t fear him.

All this pain, hurt and confusion, the Avengers torn up from the inside and running from the government for years, and yet, there isn’t a hint of resentment in his steady voice, his deep brown eyes or the way he falls into step with his own body. Sam makes that joke because he’s a smug idiot who doesn’t let defeat bring him down. Maybe, he even makes that joke to get a smile out of Bucky.

The man at his side doesn’t hate him anymore. In fact, he’s not sure he’s ever hated him in the first place.

“You know what?” Sam says in between his breathy laughs, sounding like he just discovered a lost treasure, “I can see it! I can see the gears turning.”

If Bucky had it in him, he would dare to smile. He would dare to join his laughter, but he doesn’t. It’d probably come out sounding all wrong, anyway. 

Which is why he keeps his shoulders tight and gets back on track with what happened, and Sam follows suit. Sometimes he’s convinced the other man can read his mind. And because their arms move in synchron, within a distance where he could so easily reach out for his hand and feel what it’s like to hold it, his thoughts start running along with his mouth.

“Hvorfor gav du slip?” Bucky keeps his eyes glued to his feet, determined to keep the question to himself only, “Hvis jeg var modig nok havde jeg kysset dig.”

Sam’s voice returns to him, “Hm?”

“What?”

His co-worker laughs again, but he furrows his brows and suddenly it’s not that exact warmth that Bucky might’ve just allowed himself to feel safe in. Like the man next to him sees something in him no one does, not even himself. He’d like to know whatever secret Sam’s unlocked about him behind that look.

“You’re so weird sometimes, man.” he’s told, but there isn’t a single shred of judgement painted on any of the syllables. Sometimes.

…

“What was rule number two again?”

It was a stupid question, because Bucky knows. Those rules have been repeated too many times for him not to repeat it to himself whenever he needed to silence everything around him.

Don’t do anything illegal. Don’t hurt anyone. I am no longer the Winter Soldier. I am James Bucky Barnes.

Then why, after a failed mission, after meeting that fraud who thinks he can just take on the shield like it’s nothing, after his therapist put him and Sam through a conversation that led nowhere at all, does he feel like he just broke that rule?

Of course, he’s been bending the rules a bit.

Of course, he knows why he’s feeling like this.

True to his word, Sam waits for him outside. “When we’re done, we both can go on seperate, long vacations, and never see each other again.”

The warmth that radiated off of the other man earlier that day had vanished somewhere unknown, and the pressure on that last part made it clear. That’s what fills Bucky with the type of guilt and regret that makes him want to rip his own skin off. He’s all too familiar with that feeling already.

He doesn’t blame Sam one bit, obviously. Well, he’d still like to grab that shield from John Walker and shove it somewhere the sun doesn’t shine, but the anger he’d misplaced on his co-worker, it vanished as fast as it had first arrived.

Sam is so fucking good, it almost makes him want to cry.

Sam trusted his heart, trusted what he believed was right, and he didn’t know the government was going to snatch that opportunity and hand the shield over to some nobody who doesn’t know what it stands for. Hand it over like they had any say in the matter.

Bucky didn’t doubt Steve’s decision for a second, and Bucky didn’t- doesn’t doubt Sam. Especially now, he looks at him in the evening glow and understands why Steve trusted him when he trusted no one else. Bucky trusts him. He hasn’t been this confident about anything in ages.

But because his stubbornness never fails to take a hold of him, Sam doesn’t know that.

The other man notices him coming and is already walking. He doesn’t look him in the eyes anymore. Why would he? It’s not like he earned it.

Bucky tries hard to breathe around the lump in his throat.

And he doesn’t even bother hiding his contempt around Walker anymore, while Sam keeps him tied to reality, a hand on his chest that causes everything in him to freeze, until the malfunction can’t make him do anything other than turn around and walk away.

Down to business, that’s what they fucking talked about.

Bucky has an idea and he’s gonna get it out and make it a reality, and, surprisingly enough, Sam agrees. We go deal with it.

It makes for another long walk. But now it’s long and painfully silent. Fan-fucking-tastic.

He steals glances at Sam too many times for it to be considered casual, or fleeting, and he memorizes his fingers tapping his thigh mid-walk, his jawline, every single eyelash that’s blinking hard, a habit of his when he’s stressed, Bucky’s noticed.

Their movements aren’t synchronised anymore. It’s sort of poetic.

He doesn’t realise he’s muttering it to himself, “Undskyld.” because he doesn’t have the courage to hear Sam’s answer, “Undskyld.” because he knows there’s no way the man next to him is going to forgive him, “Undskyld.” because he doesn’t deserve his forgiveness.

He’d overstepped the boundary. Whatever progress they’d made in this weird dynamic of theirs, whatever closeness became a tangible size, is wiped clean from the slate because he was pissed. But it had nothing to do with him. Steve had, but the shield doesn’t. Sam doesn’t need him to tell him that.

“That some sort of mantra?” is what breaks him out of his head.

Sam’s got an eyebrow raised, his hands absentmindedly reaching for something, phone most likely, given they have to move fast.

“What do you mean?”

So the other man slows down and tilts his head, “What you just whispered to yourself.”

Yeah, Bucky’s a horrendous liar. And he can’t feign ignorance around Sam. He can’t fake anything, his body language, his thoughts, his emotions. He wished they’d shut the fuck up for a minute.

He sniffs, shrugs, pondering on the easiest way to get out of this confrontation, if you can even call it that.

“No.”

“Didn’t sound like English.”

“‘Cause it isn’t.”

Sam looks terribly kissable right now. Not because of the streetlights or the faint noise of traffic buzzing around them, but because he’s standing under the moon, almost glowing. Bucky imagines his stupid, addictive smile, and how the moon doesn’t stand a chance compared to his beauty.

He wishes that he could lean over and the man wouldn’t push him away. He’s a tragic romantic.

His co-worker also has that expression on his face that tells him he’s too drained for snark, probably incredibly close to calling it a day. Actually, he expects him to speak, but five seconds pass, and his whole demeanor shifts, and then they’re walking again.

Once again, Sam seems to know him better than he knows himself. We go deal with it. Never see each other again. It sounds great, sounds perfect, sounds ideal, he tells his internal voice, because if he repeats it enough times he might just convince himself to believe it.

It’s not like the thought of Sam never looking at him, never speaking to him and never, ever, wanting anything to do with him again makes him want to scream until he’s got no air left in his lungs. That would be ridiculous.

…

Things happen, and at this point, Bucky just comes to accept it.

It’s almost become a bitter-tasting routine. Something bad happens, his plan backfires, something worse happens, it goes too fast for him to comprehend, so he’s been attempting for the last months to only focus on the moment.

The moment and the memories creeping in the shadows. They’re the hardest to keep at bay.

And at the moment, he’s seated on Sharon’s couch in her luxurious apartment in Madripoor, she’s telling them what to do, because their plan didn’t exactly work, Zemo’s wandering around like the cockroach he’d let out, and Sam’s taken his fucking shirt off.

So Bucky keeps his look square on his drink.

If he keeps his posture, trains his attention on Sharon’s voice, maybe he’ll avoid feeling so flustered.

He’s become pretty accustomed to faking it, admittedly. Not exactly a good thing to lie to his therapist, he’s well aware, but that’s a problem for when this is over. Dr. Raynor, she just… she couldn’t understand him.

That’s not her fucking job, he reminds himself. Her job is to help him move on with his life. Put the past behind him, get a fresh start. Talk about his feelings. “You have to talk about it,” she’d told him. “You can’t ignore your trauma. It’s dangerous.”

She’s right, but like he told her, he’s fine. Totally fine.

And that’s not what he’s struggling with right now, anyway. He hadn’t let Raynor in on anything about Sam apart from ignoring his messages, because these feelings of his are surely one-sided, and besides, Bucky doesn’t think he deserves it.

Being in love, he thinks it’s called. Or maybe he’s just not ready for it.

“Try to blend in.” Sharon’s voice calls in the distance. Her smile is incredibly smug for some reason.

It doesn’t faze him that Sam’s trying to get his attention, and that she leaves the room, until the other man’s sitting next to him (now fully dressed, both to his luck and disappointment), making it, like, 200 times harder to ignore him. And he’s examining him with those all-knowing eyes of his.

Sam can read people pretty easily. Or maybe it’s just Bucky. Or maybe he’s just too obvious, that anyone could read him like an open book.

“Bucky.” is what he says, and Bucky simply nods tightlipped, but apparently that doesn’t serve as sufficient acknowledgement for Sam, because he places a hand on his shoulder.

He feels sort of pathetic for not knowing how to breathe now. Such a simple touch. A friendly touch. A gesture. Yet he can’t think of anything else.

Out of the corner of his eye, Zemo’s watching them and opens his mouth, but the man next to him beats him to it with, “Didn’t you hear her? Go.”

The hard tone always sounds wrong in Sam’s whole being.

And the man looking at them accepts the defeat, surprisingly enough, seeping out of the room faster than Bucky could blink.

So, they’re alone. Cool. He doesn’t know what to do with himself, besides keep drinking. Keep drinking, don’t say anything stupid, don’t hurt him more than you already have.

When he finally chances a look at Sam, he seems… troubled.

He’s not sure if it’s his imagination playing tricks on him, or if he’s stupidly hopeful, but somehow, it feels like the other man’s got something on his mind. What that is, who knows.

The hand on his shoulder hasn’t left.

“Hey,” he starts, barely a sound, more a whisper, perhaps in fear that Bucky would startle and hide away, “I won’t force you to talk about it- or, well, anything.”

Did Sam just stutter? That was definitely his imagination. He’s just… he’s so… warm. Comforting. Beautiful. Bucky’s hand is getting clammy around the glass.

And when he looks at the man again, his big eyes are utterly sincere, so much so that Bucky would rip his heart out and hand it to him if he wished.

He’s not sure how well he’s doing with controlling his face, careful, not to offer any tells.

How would Sam react if he kissed him, right now? If he made a big, dumb love confession? He doesn’t even know how to describe his feelings to him, so it’d probably be clumsy. Messy. And his worst fear of all, that the man next to him would push him off in confusion, or embarrassment, or disgust.

Bucky can’t risk it.

Sam sighs, “I’m just worried about you.”

That makes him frown, and his co-worker looks back in bewilderment. He should stop doing that. Stop looking at him like he means something to him.

It’s the look that pushes the question out before he can think, “Why?”

Sam just seems tired. Not tired of your shit, but rather tired of you talking yourself down, kind of. That’s what he gets from his face, anyway.

“Come on, Buck.”

“I mean, aren’t we supposed to never see each other again?” he then asks, but it comes out more blunt, and sharper than he intended.

Sam retracts his hand. His shoulder aches to follow it.

“Mmhh.” is all the other man’s voice comes with. He folds his hands in his lap, stares at it for a while like it’s the most interesting thing on the planet. Why, oh God, why does he look like he just got his heart broken? “Yeah, I did say that.”

He’s only seen that expression on Sam a handful of times. Once, when Steve gave him the shield. Two, when his friend- Torres, that was his name, mentioned something about Afghanistan and Sam promptly jumped out of the open shaft without a warning. Three, when he’d pushed him off of him in the field. What does it mean now?

Bucky’s brain plays all his words over and over, but doesn’t know how to process them, or analyze them, or come to a natural conclusion. So he downs the last drop of whiskey, “Jeg har brug for dig.”

Geez, that was blunt. He guesses it's thanks to the stars he chose the right language to blurt that out, and Bucky proceeds to release the tight grip on his glass, about to get up and follow Sharon’s order, but Sam’s looking at him again, and as he established forever ago, that makes him weak in the knees. His entire body, actually, now that he thinks about it.

“Is that- that the same language?” Sam asks. Bucky’s awkwardly frozen mid-sitting, mid-standing, listening. “You know, you were talking to yourself. Outside the station.”

He’s right. He always is. So Bucky nods.

“It’s a saying.” and that only makes it the other man’s turn to frown, understandable. Not the most creative excuse, but now he’s gotta run with it, “Like ‘Don’t give up’, or whatever.”

He recognizes every look in Sam’s eyes, jotting them down in his memory in fear of forgetting the only person that makes him feel human. His co-worker is tying him to reality. Yep, another revelation, and he doesn’t know what to do with it.

This is the I don’t believe you for a second look. “That’s what you said? ‘Don’t give up’?”

Bucky snorts, “Nope.”

And so they both stand up, and from the other man already steps ahead of him, it’s clear he’s ruined another conversation. Like Sam gave up on understanding him altogether, and it makes him feel sick, because he isn’t exactly making it easy for him.

Look at me, Bucky hopes. Just look at me again. Please.

And Sam does. “And here I thought we were beginning to get along.”

…

Sam’s sigh is all too heavy for Bucky not to notice.

He thought he’d distract himself from Zemo’s annoying presence and annoying private plane by polishing his hand, but suddenly, the man in the other row looks painfully hopeless.

Sam can’t be that. It’s all wrong. He’s supposed to be made of sunshine and full of hope. He makes Bucky have some sort of hope.

“You okay?” he finds himself asking. He’d even put a hand on his shoulder the same way the other man did back in Madripoor, but it feels a little too personal when he remembers the third person in the room.

By the way Sam jumps just half an inch in his seat, so subtle you wouldn’t notice if you weren’t looking closely, Bucky can only guess he’s surprised he’s the one initiating conversation, for once.

“Yeah,” he answers, but it doesn’t sound all that true. “Just thinking about all the shit Sharon had to go through.”

That’s the thing about Sam, because he cares, cares like he’s pouring out his heart on everyone and saves nothing for himself. He cared about Bucky after knowing him for a day. He had a hard time believing it, but it’s true. And it’s what he likes- loves… loves about the other man the most.

Sam continues, “And Nagel referring to the American test subject like… like Isaiah wasn’t even a real person.”

Bucky feels stupid for nodding along. He should be saying something, or he feels like he should be making up for weirding him out back in Sharon’s flat, or apologise for yelling at him in the shootout, or anything. Apologise for breaking out the douche who’s plane they’re currently in, most of all.

See, talking seems easy, but it’s not when the words are overthinked as deeply as he does himself. Maybe that’s why him and Sam are as they are. Or maybe it’s in spite of that.

When Sam talks, he means every word. His voice is hushed, and he’s leaning into Bucky’s space now (which may or may not make him panic) to make sure Zemo stays out of their business. Not that they both don’t know he’s not going to do that, obviously. Again- his fault.

“Maybe I should’ve destroyed it.” takes him by surprise, though.

In his mind, in his inner voice of logic that he never listens to, he instantly understands why Sam says it, and agrees. There’s a lot of people in this world Bucky’s wronged. There’s a lot of people he hasn’t, but he still longs to help, or somehow feels guilty for. He still wants to change things. Isaiah is on the top of the list.

Which list is Sam on top of?

He’d not thought about his feelings like that before, but it hits him like it hit him back in Madripoor. He’s the only one I have left is replaced with He’s the only one that makes me feel like this so easily. Lightheaded and aching for his company, his attention, whatever else Sam will spare him.

Instead of agreeing with him like his brain is telling him, though, his pride kicks in and circles back on  The shield is yours, Sam. You fucking perfect asshole.

And Bucky’s not gonna take the shield, it’s bullshit. The other man knows it’s bullshit, and the look they share is a silent agreement that it’s bullshit.

Mysteriously, the cockroach owning the plane disappears to the bathroom, or whatever.

Maybe he’ll put his hand on Sam’s shoulder now. That would be meaningful. Would prove to the man that he cares, and he knows that Bucky cares about Isaiah, and the shield, and the mission, but he doesn’t fucking know that he cares about him.

But once again, his stomach drops and he keeps his hand to himself. Stupid.

It’s when the other man leaves his space and opts for leaning against the window that he has time to wonder about Sam fully, and why he hesitated back there. They shouldn’t see each other again, but he hesitated. 

Does he regret saying it? No, that’s crazy. 

It’s for the best, Bucky figures. He supposes he shouldn’t mourn the loss before it’s even happened, but it already seems like he’s reaching out in the darkness for Sam, who’s better than he’ll ever be, who deserves better than to drag him around like this, and it’s like he’s already gone.

Fuck, he really should talk with Dr. Raynor about that.

And the man he can’t stop looking at would probably have that concerned look on his face if he heard Bucky putting himself down like this again, out loud.

Sam wanted to talk to you that nagging voice tells him, for the millionth time. Why didn’t you let him?

He can’t figure out what he would’ve said if he could go back and change it. Stay completely silent? That would annoy Sam. Take that love confession by the horns? Sam would let him down in the nicest, most gentle way ever, he’s sure. 

That wouldn’t hurt that much, but his chest always gets a little tighter when he lies like that. It would hurt endlessly more.

Bucky does come back to reality, eventually, when a door clicks shut and Zemo’s talking to his friend (servant? pilot? who gives a shit), and his co-worker's breathing has evened out.

It’s probably more than a little creepy to watch him sleeping. Hm. But peace rests over him and it, somehow, stretches its wings towards himself as well, regardless of Sam’s position with his neck and half laying on his arm that doesn’t look comfortable in any shape or form.

“Jeg ville følge dig til verdens ende,” Bucky says. It’s barely a whisper to himself, to shut up his head crying out loud of possibilities, because what if Sam wanted him to stay? What if in some miraculous alternative universe, he felt the same way? It’s a daydream, is what it is, “hvis du bare ville give mig lov.”

…

He clenches his fist, unclenches, clenches.

Sam seems worried. Bucky can’t see him, since he’s turned his back towards him and faces the window while gaining the feeling back in that vibranium arm of his, but it radiates off of him.

Maybe he does need the space his co-worker’s giving him. Or maybe he just needs a drink and a hug and a chance to sleep. Who knows?

He hasn’t hugged anyone since reuniting with Steve. Well, unless you count Sam saving him as a hug, which he doesn’t.

It’s when he turns around again that the other man is, first of all, a lot closer than he expected him to be, secondly, giving him a small, tense smile. But it doesn’t look uncomfortable, in fact, the effect is exactly the opposite, and Bucky can’t help but return it, gratefully.

He doesn’t think too much about this smile not being forced, like the ones he’s gotten used to doing in public. Sam doesn’t need to know that.

Bucky also is, for once, two steps ahead of his co-worker, answering the question he doesn’t have time to ask, “I’m fine.”

Not easily fooled, he knows the man watching him from the couch looks wary, but Sam’s probably too shocked by the fight and Zemo’s escape to argue. He himself knows he is, which doesn’t help his guilt. But what point is there in guilt anymore? It’s not like he can un-let him out of prison.

He sits down with reasonable space between them. Significantly further away from each other than back in Sharon’s flat, not close enough to touch.

Truth be told, Bucky’s still processing it. Zemo’s escape, he accepted that easily, and it’s probably the least surprising thing he’s experienced in a while. When Ayo removed his prosthetic, that was something else.

And his friend left without another word. What could she have said that made the case anymore clear, really?

They don’t trust him, and despite the overshadowing thought of No one trusts me, Nothing’s changed, Not even myself, it’s hard to blame Shuri, or T’Challa. They saved his mind, saved his life, and he’ll be in debt to them until his grave.

Bucky understands them, he does. He does. He wouldn’t trust himself.

But a little sliver of his stomach still wrings itself inside out of… betrayal? He doesn’t know if that’s the right word, but it’s sufficient for now. Of not being told. Of not knowing everything there was to know about this thing that was a part of his body now. Still feels partially alien, a separate entity altogether.

But there’s no anger to be found. Instead, he lets his attention fall upon Sam. As always, “Are you okay, though?”

The shorter man furrows his brows. Smile’s still intact. “Depends on your definition of okay.”

Of course, he makes another bloody joke, at a time like this. Bucky snorts, and his co-worker looks all too pleased to have it succeed.

Sam glances back, seems like he’s seriously considering the thought of a drink that Bucky’s too exhausted to fulfill, but apparently decides against it, “I didn’t know you were so sentimental, Buck.”

“Can you shut your face?”

Why does it feel exceptionally good to laugh when Sam laughs? Doesn’t surprise him, the feeling he supposes are metaphorical butterflies in his gut doesn’t, either.

The other man’s keeping his eyes in his lap again, picking at the skin around his fingernails and, for the first time ever in the time he’s known him, looks nervous. It’s strange, but so endearing, and he’s so, so pretty.

Funny, that word endearing, Sam’s strong arms could wrap around him as easily as they could take several people out if he wished, which- okay, don’t think about that right now. The imaginary sensation of the other man’s skin against his and Bucky’s face buried in the crook of his neck, that is.

He feels lighter. Sam always knows what’s needed after a shared experience like this. Does he know him too well?

What Bucky does know is that the other man stands up, and instead of heading towards the door, he passes him on the way to pick up their jackets. A hand on his shoulder again. Gracing it more than a steady grip, but still.

He doesn’t stay for long, but his fingers glide down his arm a bit. The touch is the softest thing possible, ghosting over him like Sam doesn’t want him to notice.

But he does. A shiver runs down his spine.

It’s so faint that it disappears as unexpectedly as it comes, and his co-worker’s already at the other side of the room when he finally gains the courage to raise his chin.

Sam’s attention is taken by his cellphone, so Bucky decides to speak, “I don’t blame you, ya know.”

A beat before he notices, snaps the phone shut, tightens the hold on his jacket just a smidge, “For what?”

“The shield.”

“I thought you did.” he replies, because yeah, that’s what he said literally minutes ago. He doesn’t look offended, though. Good.

When Bucky can’t find the sufficient words, he nods. Licks his lips. Then tries something, “I’m an asshole, I know.” and grimaces at himself, “I’m too stubborn. I’ve been listening- I listened to you. I put all this shit on you… I’m trying to apologise.”

The other man smiles again, not tense anymore. Not gripping the jacket like it’s lifeline anymore, either. He slips it on instead.

He just wants Sam to know, so badly, that he cares. This is a start. “Sorry. I can’t believe my apologies suck, too.”

The silence is calm, it’s maybe ten, fifteen seconds tops. Just enough time for his insides to freak out before the shorter man hands him his own jacket, and then offers him a hand to pull him up. Act cool. Act fucking cool, Bucky.

He also wishes he could cling to Sam forever, but that would be the direct opposite of cool.

“It doesn’t,” he tells him, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world, pats his arm a couple of times to get the message across, he guesses, “Thank you. And thank you for having my back. You know, I think this communication thing could work, if we really tried.”

Stop being so ridiculous. Stop being so fucking dreamy. Seriously.

Bucky doesn’t roll his eyes, and if he looks lovestruck right now (he’s fairly sure he does), he’ll just have to feign ignorance later if the other man notices. This feels… yeah, you guessed it, good. Tingling in his chest a little. A lot.

He doesn’t even care that the man in front of him reaches for his phone when it rings, controlling his neutral tone of voice when he says, “Tak fordi du stolede på mig.”

Bucky’s fairly certain the words go unnoticed when he puts on his jacket, but of course, Sam covers the microphone and reaches him with a promise, “One day I’ll figure out what it is you’re whispering to yourself about.”

…

On the water, the 2am darkness enveloping him and reminding him just how alone he is, Bucky has time to think.

Mere days ago, the government’s very own Captain America murdered one of the members of the Flag Smashers, and in an eerie and familiar haze, all he and Sam could do was watch. So did Karli. So did numerous regular citizens with mobile phones.

And before Bucky could break and chase Walker down (because let’s face it, a government putting him in the suit? Bucky doesn’t trust those superiors for a second), his co-worker’s got a hold on his wrist and tells him he needs to go check on his sister.

When he follows along, Sam doesn’t complain.

Maybe, possibly, the other man even invited him. It’s not like he’s got anywhere else to be, and it seemed like, for once, Sam didn’t know what to do. A timeout is necessary, he said.

That’s an understatement.

Bucky just hopes that Karli and the rest of the Flag Smashers did the same and got the hell out of there. The shorter man’s got her number, so he suspects he told her so himself.

And Zemo? How the fuck is he supposed to know? The world’s gone to absolute shit, and they’re stuck in the middle in some kind of limbo.

Add Bucky’s unresolved feelings for his co-work- friend? Friend.

Surprisingly enough, Sam’s sister didn’t seem particularly surprised that her brother brought someone along.

Sarah’s a heaven sent. She smiled brightly and hugged him with one arm like they’ve known each other for years, juggling things out of crates on the harbour like it’s nothing. Witty, albeit a tad more serious than Sam, and she doesn’t take his shit for a second.

Her sons were more overwhelming, but Bucky’s not used to being around children, mind you.

They ran to him in excitement, speaking over each other, and he took a step back, because those creeping memories of the soldier and the fear of hurting someone again is rooted too deep to disappear.

Sam patted his back, though. It’s fine. You’re fine.

The boys also couldn’t take their eyes off his left arm and convinced him to lift them both when they bet he couldn’t. They surely know how to drive a bargain.

It’s funny, how much they liked that thing. Makes him think he could get used to the extension himself, eventually.

Sam’s family is so… normal. They’re warm and excited and hard-working and hilarious. He likes the way the other man looks around here, even more bright than usual, domestic and bantering with his sister for a living. They remind him of his own family. He won’t think about that.

But it’s the third night he spends in their home, after another one of the best dinners he’s ever had in his long life, amusing the boys with superhero stories until they’re exhausted and sent to bed, that Bucky wakes up in a cold sweat on the couch.

There you are, nightmares. It’s been a while.

It’s not surprising, of course, but he’s been avoiding sleep until the point of passing out, lately.

And Bucky didn’t know where to go. He didn’t want to rummage around in the kitchen he’s been too kindly invited to for alcohol, which they most likely didn’t have lying around anyways, as well as risk waking any of the family sleeping blissfully unaware.

But he also couldn’t stay, he was itching to move.

So, here he is. He found his way back to the harbour, and Sam’s family boat, not even dressed in more than his t-shirt, banged up jeans and boots, but the cold is a welcome distraction.

Would be good if he had a bottle of whiskey too, but whatever.

It’s times like this he’d rage inward on himself. Curse his head, curse his feelings. Curse his fucking decisions and stubbornness. Curse Walker and Zemo and Hydra. Curse the shield and curse Steve.

Yeah, it’s too much. He really should let Dr. Raynor in on this, if he gets a chance to go back to his regular sessions, that is.

The staggering quiet almost invites him to yell some of that rage out loud. Until, “Thought you might be here.”

Bucky would’ve sprung up and grabbed whatever could be used as a weapon nearest, if he didn’t immediately notice the tenderness in Sam’s voice, noticeably hoarse. He doesn’t know what to answer, but the other man sits down across from him, looking exceptionally soft.

You’re a goner, Bucky Barnes.

The silence between them is nowhere near awkward, but he feels like breaking it regardless. “Sorry I woke you.”

Sam huffs, and he imagines he’s rolling his eyes, “You didn’t.”

Hm. He scratches his neck and his chin. The cold is suddenly becoming a problem, so he wraps his arms loosely around himself. The other man’s doing the same, despite wearing a sweater.

“Nightmare?” he asks, eventually. Bucky nods.

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah.”

Is this the end of the conversation? God, he has no idea how to continue, anyways.

He’d ask about it. Ask Sam what he’s seeing behind his eyelids at night, and if it invokes the exact same kind of pain he feels himself. Ask him about the Air Force and how his world changed and came crashing down. Ask him about Riley, who he only knows by name and a single photo.

Bucky can’t get the words over his tongue. Instead, he just wonders why he’s here in the first place, why Sam’s still sticking around with him and why he was allowed into his life.

Well, he followed him first. But he doesn’t feel like he deserves the peace he’s been given the last few days, or Sam’s nephews looking at him with wide eyes and zero judgement. Sam looking at him with zero judgement. Fuck.

He clears his throat, “Do you wanna talk about it?”

He’s adjusted his eyes to the darkness now, and there goes the shorter man looking at him, not intensely but just… looking, the way that makes Bucky’s stomach jump in loops and urge him to stand up and kiss him already.

Sam shakes his head, smile timid but sure, “Another time. I’ll let you know.”

Oh boy, does he know that feeling. They’ll talk about it, eventually. He’s not ready himself, but one day he will be. He hopes so. “Me too.”

The boat’s swaying subtly, a sliver of moonlight is touching Sam’s hand on the railing and Bucky thinks he might fall into an non-existent black hole.

On the contrary, the other man is slightly shivering from the ocean wind. He shouldn’t think about what it’s like to hold him. They’re friends now. Friends. Friends.

Still doesn’t stop him from sealing the deal to himself, “Jeg elsker dig.”

Like he hasn’t known all this time. Since that day they reunited, since before. Bucky’s painfully in love with someone he’ll never have the courage to tell, openly and upfront, anyways. Maybe he’ll get over it.

It does take him a few minutes before he notices Sam’s soft smile, worn like his heart on his sleeve, second nature and drawing everyone in with ease, turning into a shirt-eating grin. 

Weird. Whatever. Wait-

“Really?” he asks him.

Oh my God. Oh no. Oh fuck.

Bucky’s eyes must widen to the size of fucking teacups. He’s never been this eager to get up and move out of a situation before till now, “Sorry?”

Sam notices his unease before he even finds it himself, “Bucky.”

“Oh my God.”

“Bucky-”

“I have to go.”

Doesn’t get very far. Five inches maybe, before the shorter man stops him in motion. Bucky could easily shake his hand off, but he doesn’t, of course he doesn’t. Sam gets under his skin every time.

His thumb caresses his wrist, “I want you to stay. Can you stay?”

Fucking fuck. Bucky gulps the embarrassment down and relaxes his stiff shoulders. Or tries to, at least. His ears are ringing.

“Will you look at me?” Sam then asks, and how could he refuse anything from that man?

Takes some courage, of course, but he has to. Take the rejection already. Come on. But when he turns around his friend doesn’t seem disgusted, or disappointed, like he fully expected him to.

“Stop looking at me like that.” he finds himself saying, before he can shut his stupid mouth up. And Sam looks absolutely desperate, “Like what?”

“Like I mean something to you.”

Kiss me. I wish you would kiss me. Sam’s perfectly formed lips are still in a smile, not small, not a grin. But just right. And then a hand is touching Bucky’s cheek.

“That’s the thing, you idiot.” the shorter man tells him, “I can’t exactly stop it. But if you want me to-”

“Have you known all along?” he interrupts with. Feels like laughing at himself. God, that would be beyond ridiculous, wouldn’t it? Saying everything on his mind, not knowing his friend heard every word of it. Secret’s out.

There’s another hand finding its way to his face, “I didn’t. Google helped me- uh, after Madripoor. Took me a few tries with the spelling before it gave me a clue. And, well…”

“My pronunciation is pretty sloppy.” Bucky’s circling around what’s happening. Why is he doing this? Because it’s too good to be true, probably. Please don’t be a dream.

Embarrassing, then… then the warmth against his cheeks. Then the impossibly soft and meaningful eyes not escaping Bucky’s for anything. Then his heart beating too fast, like it’s going to crawl up his throat and escape his vessel.

Sam shakes his head with a laugh. Heartily, caring, “Do you mean what you said? You love me?” to which Bucky laughs himself.

“Yeah,” he feels weak in the vocal chords, but gets it out, because he has to, “‘Course I fucking do. Is that okay?”

“It’s more than okay.”

And there, on Sam’s family boat in the middle of the night, wind rushing behind his ears and his breathing too loud like everything isn’t quite real, Bucky smiles like his life depends on it. Because the man in front of him deserves to know. He needs him to know. And fuck the world. “Will you kiss me now?”

Sam’s smile is so fucking pretty, it’s the best thing he’s ever seen. He looks at him like he’s special, and he feels it. Feels everything deeper and deeper, “I thought you’d never ask.”

#mine #my writing #marveledit #winterfalcon #tfatws #sambucky #fanfiction #mcu #eloquencenet #queernet #mcusociety #marvel fanfiction #tw: swearing #tw: alcohol #tw: death #missing scenes #canon compliant #bucky barnes pov #sam x bucky #sabrinasfamily #foreign language #pining #misunderstandings #teen and up rating #fluff #angst #declarations of love #meghansfamily #fic #tfatws spoilers

[that-was-anticlimactic]

I was tagged by the lovely and wonderful @zukosaturtle-duck :) thank you, Ellen:)

1. name/nickname: Corey actually is my nickname! My full name is Corrina but when I first made an Instagram fan account in 2012, someone asked my name and sixth grade me panicked and said Corey! I’m sick of having my name mispronounced even after correcting them, so I like giving people options:) I’ve also had two teachers accidentally call me Corona in the past year so I guess that’s a nickname too lol

2. gender: female

3. star sign: Capricorn

4. height: so. I haven’t measured or weighed myself in literal years because I just didn’t ?? Last time I measured myself, I was 5’1 1/2, but I think I’m 5’2 now?? Maybe 5’2 1/2???? I should probably measure myself haha

5. time: 12:31pm

6. birthday: December 29th

7. favorite bands/groups: ... I listen to Broadway:) so I’ll just name my favorite musicals: Aladdin, A Chorus Line, Come From Away, and Starry:)

8. favorite solo artist: ummm again, I listen to mostly Broadway so umm I’ll just name some more musical I like: Dogfight, Finding Neverland, anything by Team Starkid, Into the Woods, The Lightning Thief:)

9. song stuck in my head: Love Thy Neighbor from The Prom

10. last movie: Legend of Everfree

11. last show: I’m actually currently rewatching Psych (like literally right now I’m watching the episode Shawn (and Gus) of the Dead as I type this). It’s, in my opinion, the best live action show out there.

12. when did i create this blog: imma be real— I don’t remember?? Either 2017 or 2018???

13. what do i post: my blog used to be Ninjago, but now it’s a mix of atla / lok, Ninjago, The Hollow, and pretty much any cartoon! I also reblog some musical stuff, friendly reminders, and just stuff I think is important! I do post fanfiction on occasion as well! Love reblogging art because I can’t draw for crap and seeing beautiful art is 🥺🥰

14. last thing i googled: “when is kiss of the spider woman set” I was on a face time with my internet friends last night and every night I practice trying to say all of the MLP episodes in a season (alternates by night) in order, so I did s5 and then my other friend was like “gimme a year and I bet I can name all of the Tony nominees for best musical every year” and we were double checking haha

15. other blogs: this is my only blog akbekejrj

16. do i get asks: sometimes! The majority of my asks have to do with Sokka with Tourette’s headcanons or anything with TS, and I love that:)

17. why did i choose this url: my favorite word is anticlimactic and one of the scenes that made me laugh the hardest in Ninjago is in s5 ep4 when Cole thinks the other three are playing a prank on him and they’re running after him and Jay screams “DON’T OPEN THAT DOOR” and then nothing happens and Kai just goes “... well that was anticlimactic” and it’s just my favorite thing ever and I’ve considered changing my url to zukkaclimactic but I love that line so much I’m wjevjebr

18. following: 253 (crap I should follow more people wksbejje)

19. followers: 434🥺 thanks for putting up with my crap, friends🥺

20. average hours of sleep: hahahhaha umm god question. not sure. terrible sleep schedule, just ask Grace lol

21. lucky number: 3! I just love odd numbers and years ago (like sixth grade again) my friend and I made a dumb little Ninjago number code for whatever reason and my favorite character was three and idk I’ve felt a “connection” with three ever since haha

22. instruments: I played alto saxophone in band for seven-eight years, three years in marching band and tenor sax one year in marching band and part of my junior / senior year of high school!

23. what am i wearing: lol haven’t left my bed yet today so pajama pants with cute little cartoon pigs on them and a black long sleeve shirt hahahha

24. dream job: well, I’m going to college for English education, so teaching high school English is absolutely a dream job, but my impossible dream job would be voice acting, Broadway (if I could I actually sing ugh), or I would like to write a cartoon television show (and also lowkey voice a character). I do actually love my major, though, and it is a dream job!

25. dream trip: DENMARK DENMARK DENAMRK DENMARK!!! I love Denmark. I’m literally attempting to learn Danish for fun because I love Denmark. I know three Danish sign language words (I’m also almost fluent in asl but this is Danish sign language I—) but um ahem aside from Denmark, any trip where I meet my internet friends

26. favorite food: ngl I really like tomatoes. I eat whole tomatoes like apples a lot. Fantastic.

27. nationality: american

28. favorite song: my favorite song will always be High Adventure from Aladdin. That song is so important to me for reasons I won’t get into right now because this is long enough as it is, but that will always be my favorite song.

29. last book read: hmm I think the last book I read was fanfiction uhh but I am currently reading The Color Purple!

30. 3 fictional universes you’d like to live in: bro. Bro. Can I just live in a fictional universe. How must I choose only three ??? Umm Equestria from MLP, there’s just something so magical and powerful about the world from Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts and maybe it’s the fact that in the end humans and mutes live on the surface together so that’s my number two, and uhhh the world in Land of Stories like the book world.

Oh boy the hardest part: tagging people who haven’t been tagged yet. Umm @evelinaonline (I know you aren’t on tumblr as much, but friendship is magic haha), @tikmasjiens , @dnd-beyond (my fellow starkid fan), @rainydaysammy , and @canyourscienceexplainthis (feel free to not do this if you don’t want to! There’s no pressure to do it!)

#tag game #ellen I love you #thank you for the means to procrastinate #and rant about musicals lol

[thatdanishchick]

sometimes wondering as a bilingual person how i sound different from speaking one language to another. because i know that no matter what, i will always sound different speaking english from danish. because in order to be a fluent speaker of english, i had to adopt the prosody that comes with it or i would sound - off. using danish prosody and intonation when speaking english would sound off no matter what. i also wonder how my pitch changes. i think i speak in a lighter voice in danish than i do in english - i don't know why.

and on a different level, i am aware that i can express ideas and emotions in english that i can't in danish, and vice versa. i probably come off as a different person to those that only know me in english. maybe i sound more serious, more professional, in english than i do in danish. and furthermore, the "danglish" hybrid i speak with my closest friends must be a wild mish mash of everything, conveying a wholly different personality. i wonder if others think of this too.

#so many questions..... #i also speak a minuscule amount of spanish #and i definitely have a different 'voice' there too #linguistics #sociolinguistics

[painajaisnainen]

Thoughts on: Black liquorice? Lime green? Mandatory Swedish lessons? Easter?

Black liquorice? Black liquorice is ok but far from my favourite candy. I don’t really have strong opinions on it :d 

Lime green? Lime green low-key hurts my eyes 😅 It’s pretty though

Mandatory Swedish lessons? Tldr: They’re a good thing. I do understand why it can be difficult and frustrating for some people (dyslexia etc.) to learn Swedish but overall I think they’re a good thing. 

Nowadays many people seem to think that you only need to know English in order to manage in life and while that could very well be true for a normal layperson, I actually value language skills a lot. Finns nowadays learn less languages (quantity) than before and it’s honestly a bit worrying. Making Swedish optional would most likely mean that most would only learn English and that’s not good on any level. We - or our world view - can’t rely on the English language alone.

On a personal level? First of all, learning languages is in general good for you, especially for your brain! Second of all, learning new languages generally tends to widen your worldview and that’s great! We can connect with each other on a different level and understand each other’s cultures better when there’s a common language. And from Finland’s point of view, we cannot forget that Sweden and Swedish is a major part of our history & us and it’s only right that Swedish-speaking Finns can use their mother tongue in their everyday life. I also find it interesting how finlandssvenska and rikssvenska differ from each other! It’s cool. On the plus side I also need to mention that learning Swedish is kind of a “three in one” deal. You can also understand Norwegian and a bit Danish when your understand Swedish. Wonderful! 

I used to be against mandatory Swedish lessons though. I think that was mostly due to everyone around me be being against it. I didn’t have much personal connection to the language either. My values have evolved since. I’m glad that even though I was against it, I put effort into learning it. I’m not the best at it but I like understanding Swedish (and Norwegian) news and media. I am trying hard to maintain my skills and hopefully some day I could be more fluent in it. 

Easter? I was born around Easter time so Jesus tries to steal my clout from time to time 😂 Jk, I don’t like to make a fuss about myself, Jesus can have the clout. Seriously speaking, as an agnostic/atheist I don’t care for the religious meaning but I like some of the Easter traditions. I also think that Easter sparks some really interesting conversations every year on where do these traditions come from (orthodox christianity/paganism/etc.) and what’s their significance and so forth. It’s nice. I also like the extra days off, obviously. And the chocolate.

#sorry for writing a goddamn essay! :d #thanks for asking #ask

[atomicwizardyouth]

Getting diagnosed with ASD as an adult

 Okay so I need to get some stuff off of my chest.

So I’ve only recently (~2 years ago) been diagnosed with Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD/Autism) and I got that diagnosis at age 22. Now how did I get this diagnosis you ask? Great question! I didn’t want to get tested for anything, I just needed someone to vent to so I could get rid of the fucking suicidal idealisation.

Oh but OP, it can’t be that bad? Fuck off. I went through hell in my teenage years with people dying every. Single. Fucking. Year. after I turned 13. It’s a long story, it usually takes 30-60 minutes to give people the short version so I’m gonna skip that for now.

So here’s what I figured out that sucks about autism:

- I don’t feel stress, I just feel headaches and muscle pains and then I need to figure out if it’s because of a whole list of reasons or just cuz of stress

- Apparently I am more sensitive to sounds, visual stimuli, light and smells than a regular person which causes me to be stressed out a lot quicker than a NT human. Yeah this is fucking great when you can’t feel the stress build up!

- I have low empathy and seriously struggle with the entire ‘putting myself into someone else’s position’ because I just can’t understand what it’s like for them (please don’t ever cry near me, PLEASE)

- My world is very easy: predictable = good, good = healthy schedules & taking care of myself. Unpredictable/changes = bad, bad = no energy, no structure & I basically ignore all of my bodily signals. That’s bad! (won’t eat and stuff like that)

- Logic is my standard reaction, if logic doesn’t work it’s immediate anger. Yeah it fucking sucks, I know, but I can’t fucking control it any more than I already do. What is a ‘minor inconvenience’ for a NT person can be a “PRESS THE BIG RED BUTTON FOR RAGE” for me and then I need to throw something, or break something because otherwise my head gets stuck in a feedback loop of anger, resentment & regret and then it gets WORSE. 

- I am always doing something with my fingers, hands or legs because otherwise something is wrong

- If someone messes with my schedule it can ruin my day and if it’s a big thing it can ruin a week or MORE and there’s NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT. If you want me to do anything give me ~24 hour warning and I’ll be 100% fine. If you tell me at 8pm that my 9pm plans need to be changed? Be prepared to deal with stressed/anxious/angry me!

- I am afraid of what people might think of me now I’m labelled with something that’s this permanent and uncurable, so I am constantly anxious (working on that with therapy tho)

- People that break very clear rules around me make me FURIOUS, this is especially relevant during the pandemic. People that wear masks under their noses and people that don’t keep 1.5m distance suck a lot! People that don’t follow traffic laws (A RED LIGHT MEANS YOU STOP YOU FUCKHEADS) and it’s very rough to figure out that other people don’t see it like this and that I’m the ‘weirdo’ in this case. 

And now here are the good things!:

- I have a very strong long term memory where I can clearly recall details from conversations, things I learned or from random things if my brain deemed them important enough at the time. I can still vividly remember things I learned in elementary school and once that memory gets triggered I can recite that knowledge like I’d just read it (but it ONLY works if the memory gets ‘properly’ triggered)

- My logic & reasoning skills are very good!

- Languages are easy to pick up (apart from French, fuck French) since you just kind of learn the rules and then follow them and then you have a functioning language! (I’m fluent in Dutch & English, I’m passable in German and currently studying Danish because I want to)

- I’m great at finance & law! Rules rules rules rules rules they are SO NICE and it’s great to be able to follow rules to help people make sense of the insanity that law & finance is. I’m able to see minute details that are off (11 euros in a 10 million budget and that intuition of “something is OFF HERE” whenever I just look through finances and calculations. Also please play boardgames with me but GIVE ME THE MANUAL, PLEAAAASE. I absolutely love reading through them and then remembering all the rules and then I can explain them to everyone!!!!!!!!

- Hyperfixation on fun projects and stuff!!!! I absolutely love being able to just close myself off from the entire world to do something that my brain thinks is great to do at that time! That can sometimes be videogames (looking at you, civ 5 sessions that last 12+ hours for a few days in a row), something creative or even reading! I love to just jump into another world (especially magic!!!!) and just live through those books for a few days/weeks at a time

And just some general things:

- It’s great to see that talking about mental health has become more accepted in the online communities and it’s becoming better irl as well! I feel absolutely validated by some of the stories people have shared here on tumblr, but also on reddit and it makes me feel accepted and it makes me feel like I still belong in this world!

- Suddenly a lot of the stuff I did as a kid is now easily explained by “ah I was being an autistic kid at times” instead of trying to figure out why I did things differently or had more problems with certain things (seriously, fuck any art class that made me make an ‘original’ product, I can only IMITATE STUFF)

- Life is too short to be scared of your own disorders, so learn about them and try to deal with some of your shit and (hopefully) your life becomes a bit better :D

It’s tough for me to see the good instead of the bad (human brain being fucky and a bit depresso) but I hope some of you can relate to this or find this and figure out that you’re not alone!

#autism #autistic experiences #autistic adult

[vikinglanguage]

for the asks: #s 4 6 8 9 10 & 11!

4. How old were you when you first started learning a second language? What language was it?When I was 9, I started mandatory English in school. Even before that I knew a few very basic phrases, and I distinctively remember telling my mum “I love you” when I was like 6, and her saying “I love you too”, which then stuck with me.Even before that, my sister taught me to say “me llamo Amalie” and “¿cómo te llamas?”, when we went to Spain when I was 5 years old, but that was the only Spanish I knew from ages 5 to 15.

6. What’s something you have a hard time expressing in your target language(s)?Oh, like, everything. My primary target language is currently German, but I’m also keeping Spanish in mind here.I think what really frustrates me about language is that I generally just really don’t enjoy small talk. Like, to me a good conversation is about culture, politics, linguistics, literature, things I find interesting. And I just never get to a level where I can talk about those subjects, because I NEED to have a certain base level before I get to that. In order to conjugate verbs and remember to use the right definite article I need to practice it, but I’m just not interested in repeating sentences like “sie sieht den Vogel” or “tenía cinco años”. Unfortunately that is a stage I need to pass before learning more complex vocabulary, because first I have to start utilising the vocabulary that I have already.Yes, I know that as someone learning on my own, I am very much in charge of which order I learn things in, but I think that really, my main problem is that I have yet to find an order that fits my needs.I’m just so god damn annoyed that I can’t seem to figure it out, because clearly I must’ve gotten something right when I was learning English, especially after ages 12-13.

8. Are you a grammar snob in your native language(s)?Somewhat. While I largely think that the grammar rules should be adapted to fit a language as it currently is, there are just some things that annoy me. And I will correct people on those things, if I know that it’s an opening to poke fun around grammar or other language things, or just to exasperate my mum.For an example, in Danish we have the difference between “hans/hendes” and “sin”, which I think is a really good an useful difference, that also plays nicely into the concept of “sig”, and I would prefer to preserve that as part of the Danish language. Likewise, I think it’s a great shame that a word such as “hin” (an old word equivalent to “that” (actually I guess somewhat like “yon” or spanish “aquél”), nowadays we just use “den” for both “this” and “that”)However, I will never correct the grammar of someone who has made it clear that they might struggle with grammar for whatever reason, or really, just anyone whom I don’t know that well and didn’t ask for correction. Unsolicited grammar advice sucks, unless you’re gently bullying your sibling or Austrian flatmate.

9. Language pet peeve?I have so many, most of them related to Danish. A lot of them are just people not being able to, you know, speak.-saying hångklæde instead of håndklæde or promade instead of pomade-using syntes and synes interchangeably (syntes is past tense of synes)-messing up hans/hendes vs sin-people saying et hamster instead of en hamster-people who say that meme is intetkøn, because fuck you its fælleskøn and I do not take constructive criticism.-people who claim that “English is actually one of the hardest languages to learn!”, shut up, you barely have any grammar worth speaking of and your sentence structure is so straightforward it’s almost laughable. Sure, the spelling is awful, but have you seen Danish? Have you HEARD French? If you speak a romance or germanic language I very much doubt that English is hard.-PEOPLE WHO MAKE FUN OF THE ACCENTS OF STRANGERS. SHUT UP. AT LEAST THEY’RE TRYING TO SPEAK YOU’RE LANGUAGE WHICH IS PROBABLY MORE THAN CAN BE SAID ABOUT YOU.-people from the south of Spain. Stop that. There’s an s there. Please say the s. I beg of you. It’s right there. Spanish is supposed to be easy to pronounce. THE S IS RIGHT THERE.-when someone claims I’m not pronouncing a Danish word correctly because I don’t speak what would be the Danish version of RP.-generally people thinking dialects are bad (nb: yes, there’s a lot to unpack with pet peeves and dialects vs. the “correct” version of a language, i know, i know, i know)-people who think I’m being aggressive because I don’t use emoji’s when texting-people claiming that text can’t even come close to conveying emotion and meaning in the same way that speech canI could probably make this ten miles long if I wanted, but I’m gonna have to call it quits here.

10. What’s your opinion on learning dead languages?I think it’s so fucking cool. Hebrew was a dead language until someone thought to revive it. I say it’s time we bring back Punic. Or something. Idk, I think learning dead languages is a really interesting concept, seeing as the insight it gives into long gone cultures and just the concept of speaking a language that NO ONE is a native speaker of? win. Who’s to say you’re wrong? The scholars? Were they alive in 200 AD, I don’t think so.

11. Who is one person (famous or not) that is a language-learning inspiration for you?Both of my parents, as well as my sister. All three speak fluent English and are somewhat conversational in German, and my mother can somewhat get by in Spanish, Italian and French.My Austrian flatmate who of course speaks German (both standard and her own western Austrian dialect WHICH IS VERY DIFFERENT), English, has good French comprehension and is well on the way to learning Danish.I hate to go on and on about MIKA on every single one of my blogs, but MIKA, being fluent in English, French and Italian (arguably Spanish, depending on who you ask), having picked up Italian just like, along the way. I really like the fact that he writes texts not just in English, but in French as well, and, as of more recently, Italian.Following that thread, I appreciate people who write pop in their native tongue. Not everything has to be English, I mean Denmark won Eurovision with Dansevisen because it was A GOOD SONG. Not because anyone knew what the fuck the text was about, but because THE MUSIC was good. Also I cried on the bus the first time I listened to Elsker Dig Mer by Oh Land, because it just hit so much harder than Love You Better. Why didn’t the hard rock barefoot fire Hungarians win ESC 2018? Evades me.

#crushedvelvetshoes #this has been in my drafts for too long so here's the somewhat not finished but mostly finished post #hooray #ask #personal #general

[unluckyjen]

looking for an intl. penpal!!

I don’t know if anyone will really see this ad, but I hope the right person will come across it. I’m just going to send this out to the universe and see what happens! 

My name is Jenni, I’m 21 (this November) and I’m from the west coast of Canada (British Columbia-AKA the most BEAUTIFUL place on earth in my humble opinon..hehe) One of my favourite hobbies is learning languages. Currently I’ve got German, French, Spanish, Italian, Portuguese, Finnish, Swedish, and Danish on my list. Does that mean I am fluent in any of those languages...ABSOLUTELY NOT LOL Which is mainly the reason why I’m looking for a pen pal on here from maybe one of those countries (or speaking countries). Especially Germany! I just LOVE Germany. 

I also have an obsession with Australia & NZ so if you’re from there major brownie points, but I’m not picky. Wherever you’re from if you want to be penpals/friends message me!! Canada even would be super convenient :) 

a little bit about me: 

- I love animals

- I love snowboarding, it is one of my biggest passions

-I’m VERY 420 friendly, I’m not ashamed to be a stoner, honestly lol

-I have a wordpress blog, I work hard on it even if no one reads it

- I love pretty much everything 2000s-seriously I am such a 90s baby 

- I’m a big fat sims nerd, ngl

- I love to cook (I eat plant-based, I used to call myself vegan I heavily identified with that label, but I’ve recently stopped because I just don’t know how to feel about the label and the community these days..we are all just trying our best. However, I’ve technically been vegan for 5 years now. Crazy to even say that!! Time flies)

- Im an HSP & INFP though sometimes I get INFJ????? I also think I got 9 on the enneagram (clearly I should have double checked-did I mention I’m lazy? it’s more by choice..not because I smoke a lot of weed-promise loL!) 

- I quit social media in january and haven’t looked back. I also haven’t had a phone # in like 2 years.. I am so unbothered that I basically live under a rock..it’s mostly cause I can only ever handle what is REAL LIFE, by real life I mean this moment, the one we’re living in right now the one that’s quickly passing

I just want meaningful connections with genuine people. :) 

If any of this random post speaks to you, message me! xoxoxo 

can’t wait to hear from you! 

#pen pal #penpal #penpalwanted #looking for a pen pal #looking for a penpal #snail mail #snailmail #friends #penpals

[silverklar]

thank you @srodvlv for tagging me! 🥰

nicknames: i actually legally changed my name to tess last year (which can be considered a nickname of my birth name, ironically enough), but my family still call me by my birth name. i don’t bother correcting them even though i don’t like it, i understand that it’s difficult for them to adjust. also i don’t want the attention it would bring upon me lmao. other than that, i don’t really have any!

zodiac sign: gemini! or according to the co-star app, i am a gemini sun, leo moon and scorpio rising.

height: 174 cm // about 5’8”

hogwarts house: i get a different result every time i take a test but i think i’m closest to ravenclaw and hufflepuff.

last thing i googled: ’passport’ (got my photo taken yesterday and it was a pain).

favorite music: indie/folk/rock/acoustic. anything melancholic and dark and sad really, because that’s where the lyrical geniouses hide.

song stuck in my head: depth over distance by ben howard.

what i follow: how am i supposed to answer this?? it depends entirely on what platform we’re talking about. on tumblr i mostly follow blogs that are tied to shows i’m into or other interests like literature and writing.

followers: it says 203 but i’m quite certain that’s a glitch because i count 114 which ????? i don’t know why anyone at all would want to follow my silly blog so that’s a lot for me 🤧

do i get asks: not often but it has happened and i get equally happy every time!!

amount of sleep: i’ve always had trouble with sleep so it’s hard to say. either i get too much of it or not nearly enough. some nights i don’t sleep at all, and other times i can go anywhere from 2h to 13h so... i really can’t say.

what i’m wearing: a hoodie and like, soft flowy pants?? don’t know if there’s a name for them, but a chill lounge version of suit pants...... if that makes sense.

dream job: linguist/language scientist/researcher!! my goal is to get a phd in linguistics but we’ll see about that. a more specific ’dreamlike’ job would be accent coach because i love phonetics!!!! i recently got stuck watching youtube videos of a linguist breaking down actors’ attempts on accents in movies and i was thriving.

dream trip: well i’m going to paris next week (!!!) so that first of all! but then i’ve always dreamed of going to the faroe islands because scenery™️.

favorite food: italian (read: pasta), but also food with a lot of spices like moroccan or indian and that kind of thing.

languages: swedish is my first language so by default i also understand norwegian and (written) danish, but can’t speak them. i’m relatively fluent in english, have studied german to an A2 level and spanish to B1. i’ve lost a lot of that though because i don’t use them, except when i watch movies/shows. :( and last week i started a basic course in portuguese so that’s on the rise now as well! i’ve also bought books to learn french, greek and italian but that’s still to be continued (can u tell i love languages cfkdhsksk).

favorite songs: god, i have so many that it’s difficult to choose. but right now i’m listening to ascendant by max concors (yes That One) & crystals by of monsters and men on repeat because they make me feel empowered, and i need a lot of that for my trip to paris 👀

random fact: the season for applying to the upcoming spring term of uni opens on september 16th, and i’m considering applying for my dream program but i don’t know if i’m courageous enough. on the other hand, if i keep thinking that i have to wait until i feel ready, i might end up putting it off for so long that i never do it??? h e l p m e

~

i tag @tumblingdownthehills // @auriantss // @imhereforthelolzdontyellatme // @eliottdemmaury // @azursai // @chelou-mecs-in-love // - only if you want! ✨

#tag game #this got so long i’m very sorry #i’m also sorry if you’ve already been tagged and i’ve missed it :(

[lakritzwolf]

Tag game

I was tagged by @iheartmalec

Rules: Answer seventeen questions and tag twenty-one blogs!

Nickname: I don’t have one. Everyone uses my full name because the only abbreviation of my name is Conny and I HATE Conny.

Star Sign: Sagittarius

Last Film I Watched: Rampage. Which was… weirdly entertaining.

Fave Musician: I’ll make that two: Freddie Mercury, and Rick Allen, the drummer of Def Leppard. (Why? Because he lost an arm and is still a drummer and if this isn’t inspirational then I don’t know what is)

Song Stuck in my Head: I’ve been listening to too much Queen (is there even such a thing?) in the car lately so at this point, Bohemian Rhapsody.

Other Blogs: I had a few roleplaying blogs for Spartacus characters but they’re all gone since the porn purge. I host a side blog for a tiny ship and am admin of another.

Do I Get Asks: Hardly so, but that’s because I have anon off. Once bitten twice shy.

Blog Followings: Follow 120, and I have 338 followers? What are you all doing here?

What am I wearing: Gym pants and T-shirt.

Dream Job: Professional writer. Live off selling my books.

Dream Trip: One big tour through New Zealand.

Play Instruments: I play guitar, and I sing

Languages: German (native), English, and Danish. Fluent in all three.

Fave Food: Spaghetti Bolognese, Lasagne, real liquorice (the strong, black and salty kind)

Fave Songs: It’s a kind of magic, Pour some sugar on me, Come on Eileen, Back in Black, plus a lot of folk songs that probably no one knows.

Random Facts: I have lived in Germany, Wales, Scotland and Denmark. My voice is contra-alto. My hair is so long it goes past my bum. I can knit socks.

Also my fave emojis are: I have only one fav emoji. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Feel tagged or feel free to ignore:

@bytheangell @archeryandeyeliner @schmicosmalec @lynne-monstr @chelidona @mayyourbeardnevergrowthin @cityofacorns @thatonewitchwhovapes @lamalefix @chills-of-fire @dragonquill @lazysaturdayonthebeach @shinigami714 @calicoskatts @kaetien @tweak-girl-stuff @oursesolitaire

#tag game

[alwayschoosechocolate]

Are we even speaking the same language? (Part 1)

Sophie moves to Seoul to become a language assistant at one of Seouls biggest music companies. Even though her Korean is far from perfect, she quickly seems to get along with some of the biggest stars in the company. But the language might not be the only barrier, she has to overcome. 

Characters: All seven members of BTS, paring between Namjoon x main character, short mention of the members of TxT

Word count: 2,944

Genre: romance, angst, (idk yet)

Comments: When the dialog is written in cursive, it’s in Korean.  

This is my very first time ever posting anything I’ve written. I don’t even know how to describe it, but this story has been rummaging in my head for a few days now, and I just had to get it out somewhere, so here you go! 

If it gets a good response, I’ll post more - it might get long though! You have been warned!

Masterpost with the other parts of the story, can be found here (x)

After giving her the meeting and practicing schedules, he paused for a moment, as if to make sure he hadn’t forgotten anything.

               “That should be everything.” He smiled at her. “Have you gotten a tour of the building yet?”

               “No, I’ve only seen the foyer and this floor.” She said sheepishly, still taken aback by the size of the company, whose CEO she was currently speaking to.

               “Ah, I’ll get someone to give you a tour – you need to know where the studios and the meeting rooms are.” He rose from his chair and led her out of his office. The open floor working space was buzzing with phone conversations, clicking of keyboards and the rustling of papers. He walked directly over to a young foreign looking woman, who was just finishing her conversation on the phone.

               “Cathrine, would you mind giving Sophie here a tour of the building? She is also going to be part of the language and communications department, so I thought you would know best, what’s relevant to her?” He introduced them to each other, and after having ensured, that Sophie had her employee card, he left them, to go back to his office.

               Cathrine turned to Sophie and gave her a bright smile.

               “Welcome to the company! Is this your first day?” Her American accent rang thick in Sophies ears.

               “Try first hour.” Sophie looked at her shyly. Cathrine caught sight of her coat and bag in her hands.

               “Oh! Look, I’ll show you, where your desk is, and where you can keep your coat. Then we can take a cup of coffee, before I show you the rest, yeah?” Sophie smiled appreciatively to her.

               “That would be amazing. Thank you!”

               After having placed her things at her new desk, across the office island from Cathrine, they made their way to the break-room.

               “So how long have you been in Seoul?” Cathrine asked, settling on the couch with the cappuccino in her hands.

               “I actually just arrived last week.” Sophie took a trying sip of the black coffee, before putting it down on the coffee table in front of her. It was still too hot to drink.

               “Wow! Well, welcome to the city then! If you need any tips about the city and want to grab some food or a drink together, just ask. I would love to help you feel at home here. The city is huge and can be a bit confusing.” Cathrine gave a small laugh at her last statement. Sophie giggled along, thinking about how she got lost the day before looking for a supermarket.

               “I might just take you up on that!”

               “I hope you don’t mind me asking, but where are you from? Your English is really good, but it’s not your native language is it?” Cathrine cocked her head a little to the side.

               Sophie smiled, pretty use to the question after having been living abroad since age 22. “No, it’s not. I’m Danish.” She said a little hesitantly, not completely sure, if Cathrine would know where Denmark was.

               “Ah, cool. So Scandinavia. We did a traveling segment with one of the groups in Scandinavia a few years back.” She paused to think for a moment. “But I think they only went to Sweden, Norway and Finland. It was so beautiful there!” Sophie wanted to correct her, seeing how Finland wasn’t part of Scandinavia, but she bit down her response. Maybe it wasn’t the best first impressions to give. Instead she just agreed with her on the beauty of the other Nordic countries.

               “So how is your Korean? I’m guessing you know more than just English and Danish, since they hired you to help with communication here?” Cathrine laughed a little. “My Korean still needs some work, but it’s getting better. It’s easier to learn here, than it was back home.” Her nose scrunched slightly when she laughed. Sophie liked the easy-going energy, Cathrine was giving off. It made her feel less nervous.

               “Well, I wouldn’t say my Korean is that good. I’m still learning, definitely, but I can get around somewhat. And gestures help a lot!” As if to express what she meant, she flailed her arms around a bit, acting out how she had asked where the eggs where, in the grocery store yesterday. They both started laughing.

“But no, I speak Danish, English and German fluently. My French is coming along slowly, but I’m not near being fluent in that.” Sophie gave a little laugh.

The fact that she had managed to land a job as a language assistant at a huge music agency in South Korea, was still a bit surreal to her. They had told her, that her broad knowledge of languages and her experience in communication, was why they had hired her. She was still not sure, if her knowledge would be enough to live up to their expectations, but she was willing to give it a try. She picked up her paper coffee cup, the liquid now at a temperature, where she could drink it.

               “Ah, cool. I don’t know if they told you, but they offer Korean classes here at the office for us, international workers.”

She put intonation on the last part and wiggled her eyebrows at her, as if to state that they were the cool kids at the school. Sophie laughed at her gimmicks and snuck a look around the room. It was completely empty say for them. There were sofas pushed to walls along one side, and small café tables littering the floor plan. The small tea kitchen taking up the opposite wall from where Sophie and Cathrine were sitting in front of the window. She turned back towards Cathrine and smiled at her.

               “So what about you? Do you know more languages?” Sophie tried asking it in an innocent and curious tone, but immediately thought, how it could come off as arrogant, after just having listed her own languages.

               “I do! I speak Spanish fluently as well – my mom is Spanish, and my dad is American. So Spanish is my mother tongue, English my father tongue, and I think Korean is my tongue.” She smiled softly and proudly at her own joke, but it was clear that she had thought about this several times before, and really felt this way.

               “I understand. Everyone in my family is Danish, so I wasn’t really exposed to any other language before I started learning English in school. But I relate more to other languages. I love learning new languages.” Sophie locked eyes with Cathrine and smiled at her. She returned her smile with a grin.

               “I am sure, we are going to get along just great!”, she said. “Alright, did you finish your coffee?”

Sophie emptied her cup and lifted it to indicate, that she was done.

“Great! Then I can show you around.” Cathrine practically bounced up from the sofa, and grabbed their empty cups, to throw them out on the way to the door. She held it open for Sophie.

“After you.”, she said with a comic half bow. Sophie laughed and gave a small bow back, before stepping into the hallway.

               As they made their way towards the elevator, Cathrine started explaining how the building was divided on different floors. The ground floor being only the reception and some bathrooms. Then came the meeting rooms made for press conferences and bigger events. Then followed one floor of dance studios. Then two floors of music studios. And finally, the top three floors, which was for office spaces and internal meetings. They were currently on the top floor. Cathrine pressed the button for the 3. Floor.

“I’ll show you the dance studios first. There’s probably someone practicing, so we might not be able to go in, but then you’ll know where they are.”

The elevator slowly started moving down. Cathrine suddenly turned towards her.

“Oh. By the way, I’m sure someone already told you, but just to make sure. We’re not allowed to release any information about the artists here to anyone outside of the company, unless they are here to meet with them, and have an appointment.”

Her brown eyes searched through Sophies green eyes, as if to look for a sliver of doubt or confusion but found none.

               “I know, I had to sign a security and privacy contract before coming here.”

She gave Cathrine a reassuring smile, to let her know, that she understood the secrecy. Cathrines face split in a huge grin.

               “Perfect!” The elevator doors slide open, and Sophie could already hear the music from some of the different rooms. They walked down a corridor with doors on both sides leading in to different practice studios.

               “Okay, so every group or artist has their own studio, that they can use as they like.”

Cathrine stopped in front of a half open door and peered in.

“Hey guys, is it okay, if I show Sophie your dance studio? She is new to the company.” Some affirming answers could be heard in different languages. Cathrine shot her a big smile, and practically dragged her into the room.

               “Sophie, this is one of our groups, Tomorrow x Together. They just recently debuted. Guys, this is Sophie.”

Sophie waved awkwardly, not sure if they would understand her English. However, they all smiled back and waved before introducing themselves. Some in English some in Korean. Soobin, Yeonjun, Beomgyu, Taehyun and Huening Kai. Sophie was pretty sure she would have troubles remembering the names of all the artists of the company, so she made a mental note of the group name, so she could look up pictures and such, when she came home. The guys went back to practicing their choreography in front of the big mirrors adorning one side of the room. Cathrine told Sophie a bit about the group and how their schedule was, before they waved goodbye to the group and left the room again.

               “So that was the dance studios. We don’t spend that much time here, but it’s good to know where they are.” She smiled at Sophie. “Let’s go see the music studios, " she said, as they moved towards the elevator. While they were waiting for the lift, Cathrine greeted a small group of people, who walked by. “There is always a lot of people and energy here.”, she said with a smile. “I love coming here.”

 As they got in the lift, Cathrine looked briefly at her watch. “Ah okay. I think, there might be some people recording now, so we probably can’t see the recording booths, but we might be able to see some of the studios. Now is your time to impress with your Korean.” Cathrine shot her a wink. “Not all the artists speak English – they understand most of it, but we might as well practice our Korean.”, she said with a shrug.

The elevator opened to a different floor, with two hallways. There were small signs either on the different doors or next to them. In front of the doors, every studio had gotten a little bit decorated with either a mat, shoe rack, toys or something like that. It looked like the kind of hallway you would find at a dorm. Each person’s personality having spilled a little bit into the hallway, as if the small rooms couldn’t contain it.

               Cathrine walked down the hallway on the right, rounding a corner, and halting in front of a door, with a small sign saying “HopeWorld”. The area in front of the door looked completely empty next to the display of dolls and figures in varying sizes that took up the space of the studio next to it. “Rkive” it said on the door. Sophie was taken aback by the amount of colors there. Cathrine giggled at her expression.

               “Yeah, RM likes colors. He’s a sweetheart. You’ll get to meet him eventually. He comes up to the offices quite often, you know being the leader of BTS and all.”

Sophie giggled a little, shook her head and pointed at the door in front of them. “So whose studio is this?”

               “This is J-Hope’s studio. He’s also in BTS. I’m guessing he’s here, since their dance studio was empty.” Cathrine said as she knocked.

They heard shuffling on the other side of the door, and then it opened to reveal a guy dressed in an oversized sweater, sweatpants and a bucket hat.

“Hey Cathrine! What’s up?” He asked her in Korean.

“Hey Hoseok. This is Sophie. She is new. I’m showing her around.”

Sophie understood what they where saying, but as J-hopes gaze fell on her, she was dreading using her own very limited Korean.

“Hi Sophie. I’m J-hope, or Hoseok, if you like. Do you speak Korean?”

J-hope having of course noticed that she didn’t look Korean, wanted to make sure, that Sophie understood him.

“Hi. I speak a little Korean. Understand more than I speak.”, she managed to say in short sentences.

He sent her a breathtaking smile, and his eyes crinkled as he did.

“Ah cool. So, what’s up? Are you giving her a tour?”, he said this time directing the question at Cathrine.

She nodded.  “Yeah, I wanted to show her your dancing, but you weren’t there.” She teased him with a smile, obviously pretty close with him.

He laughed and shook his head.

“Ah, I was there an hour ago, hence the clothes,” he said motioning to his outfit. “But I needed to work on a track for the new album. Do you want to hear?” He asked as he opened the door further, inviting them in.

“Sure.” Cathrine looked at Sophie with a smile, and motioned for her to remove her shoes before stepping in. She immediately sat down on the couch in the studio and gestured for Sophie to join her.

               “So, what kind of music is this track? Hip-Hop? Pop? Dance?” Cathrine asked curiously, crossing her legs under her on the couch. She clearly felt comfortable in here. Sophie envied her relaxed attitude, as she was still debating how it would be most natural for her to sit.

               “Well, it’s my solo song, so it has kind of a dancy vibe, but actually quieter compared to what I normally do.” Hoseok told her with a shy smile. “That means that I sing a bit more than usually.”

               “Ah, but you sing really well, Hoseok.” Cathrine reassured him, sending him a small smile. He smiled back at her. He turned around to the computer, clicked around a bit and then the music started. Sophie, who had been preoccupied with taking in the colorful space, that was Hoseoks studio, suddenly looked up when she heard the music. She had listened at little to the different groups before coming to Seoul, so she would know what kind of music they made, but it was a different experience sitting on the couch in one of the studios and listening to a raw track, with one of said artists. The music had a sad tone to it, but somehow still incorporated a happy beat, giving off vibes of a something amazing, that you knew where ending soon. Like the last few hours of a vacation before going home. Or the last days Sophie had spent with her friends back in Europe, before leaving for Seoul. The vocal was smooth and rhythmic, mirroring the tone of the song. Sophie focused on the stuffed flamingo in the corner, while she tried to make out as many of the lyrics as possible. It wasn’t easy though. Her Korean wasn’t good enough for that yet. She did catch something about being more yourself with that person, hiding from reality and being afraid of a mirror without that person next to you. Sophie was pretty sure, that the lyrics were really deep and meaningful, and she would have loved to be able to understand them better. She got a bit annoyed with herself for not understanding more.

               The last note rang out, and she looked up. Hoseok were looking at both of them, waiting for a response.

“Hoseok, that was beautiful. Did you write that yourself?” Cathrine asked him.

“I wrote most of it, yeah. Namjoon helped me with some of it.” He answered proudly. He looked at Sophie.

“What did you think?”

Sophie wanted to tell him, that it was a moving song, that she wanted to understand the lyrics better, that she loved the bridge. However, the language limited her.

“It was beautiful.”, she said and gave him a smile and thumbs up, to make sure he knew, that she liked it.

He smiled back at her. “Thank you.”

Cathrine stood up, “Hoseok, we have to get back to work, but thanks for showing us the song. It was amazing.” She told him with a big smile and opened the door. Sophie scrambled to her feet and hurried after her out of the studio, putting on her shoes, that she had left in front of the door.

“Alright, I’ll see you soon. Bye Noona.” Hoseok waved at both of you, and then Cathrine closed the door.

               “You seemed pretty close with him?” Sophie asked shyly. Cathrine hummed and nodded, as they made their way towards the elevator.

               “Yeah, I’ve been here two years now, and I’ve helped BTS with their lyrics and messages a lot. They have RM, who is fluent in English, but they always want to make sure, that it’s proper English, so I get to help them from time to time.” She smiled at Sophie. “They are all really nice guys. I also hang out with them outside of work every now and then.”

// Part 2 //

#bts #bangtan #bts imagines #bts fanfic #jin #suga #jhope #rm #jimin #taehyung #jungkook #kim seokjin #min yoongi #kim namjoon #park jimin #kim taehyung #jeun jungkook #bts ot7 #bts fluff #hobi #txt #bts scenarios #bangtan fluff #multilingual #namjoon imagines #jung ho #namjoon fanfic #jung hoseok #are we even speaking the same language

[thevagueambition]

am getting caught up on black mirror and i for sure didn't expect danish all of a sudden. weird choice. not sure why a people with such a high percentage of near-fluent english speakers would suddenly lose that skill to the extent that a computer translator is more practical, even if it’s some kind of post-apocalyptic future, but whatever

it also just sounds kind of.... off?? 

some of the grammar was off for sure (”you saw them” is translated into danish as “you see them”) but i’m willing to chalk that up to a faulty translator

but one of the actors definitely sounds like he’s not actually danish. not because he mispronounces anything, but because the way he applies pressure in the sense just feels really off. but again, the sheer lack of any real mispronounciation of a language that is nostoriously hard to pronounce has me thinking he must be danish. so who knows

the girl who repeats a prayer isnt actually repeating a prayer she’s just repeating something about jesus over and over again

I get the whole “let’s reframe things by portraying a rich nation as the poor, non-english speaking villagers” but.... meh? 

the environment actually looks danish so far so kudos for that bit?

#siggi rambles #''parn'' isnt a danish name idk what that is #heidekker is just heidegger but with k #also v obvious he's not played by a danish actor #bc that's not a danish accent lol #that's a ''this is what english speakers think what europeans sound like'' accent

[scarletwritingwolf]

New Year Get to Know Me

Nicknames: Cam

Zodiac: Pisces, and I match almost every detail

Height: 5’10, 175cm

Time: 6:04

Favourite band/artist: I feel like answering this with some unknown band or artist would be awesome, but in truth I listen to absolutely everything. It would be cheating on my music to name just one.

Song stuck in head: Katy Perry-Firework (I watched Sing with my kids last night).

Last thing I googled: link to a chat room for professional psychologists/counsellors, had a question pertaining to patient diagnosis.

Other blogs: none

Do I get asks: rarely, I’d like more in 2019

Why did I choose this username: because it’s my name, and while I don’t lack ideas for others; there is another person in the OL fandom who has one similar to what I would have chosen (I’ll give you a hint; Phoenix).

Following: 111. Blogs mainly about Outlander, Poldark or ADOW.

Average amount of sleep: 6-8 hrs a night

What I’m wearing: a night dress and a giant fluffy dressing gown.

Dream job: working with federal police, helping them to negotiate with suspects; currently doing further studies relating to counter terrorism, security and intelligence.

Dream trip: Maldives; I’ve seen a lot of Australia, Europe & Asia. And I personally enjoy tropical weather.

Favourite food: nothing specific; but I enjoy Mexican and Italian food.

Play any instruments: None, unless my primary school dalliances with piano and recorder count.

Hair colour: Red

Languages you speak: English, fluent Danish, fluent German, conversational in French and Italian.

Most Iconic Song: The Beach Boys- Wouldn’t it Be Nice

Random Fact: I have no random fact because I’m drawing a blank.

Describe yourself as aesthetic things: I find architecture aesthetically pleasing, so I liken myself to this bright yellow, old church that is about 30 minutes from where I live. I’m in no way religious, but I am welcoming to all walks of life, all phenomenons, I also like to think that I’ve got a bit of an old soul and the bright yellow symbolises my creativity.

Tagging: @ladytuarach and @bonniebird17

[autspoon]

Ok so I guess I am most definitely above bilingual? So I would say I can claim multilingual, and I’m just a notch bellow a polyglot.

I can write about 3 standardized languages fluently, and I am getting decent with writing 2 other standard languages. I can write English and the 2 standard written languages of Norwegian, and I am getting fairly decent with French and German.

When spoken, I can understand about 4 standard languages. Closely related languages and dialects that can be counted as separate languages I guess are included... So that’s why I say “about”. I can understand English, Norwegian, Danish and Swedish... I also understand French pretty well.

I am able to speak in multiple tongues, more than 2, but that has the dubious “where’s the border for languages”-thing. So I think I can say I’ve mastered at least 2 spoken languages. I am pretty good with spoken German, actually.. I just kind of suck with writing it.

I don’t really know where I’m at with Esperanto, or if I really want to take it further.. But I’d say I can read it basically perfectly, and I can write it decently except my grammar isn’t perfect, and you know I have no experience with speaking/listening.

I know a lot of the basics of a lot of languages. [Pauses the writing of this post to count.] ... About 20 languages?

So I can say I have perfectly mastered 3 languages. I can write a total of 5 languages on an advanced/fluent level. I can read/listen to around 7 different languages, and understand a majority of it. I guess I know 3, 5 or 7 depending on how you count it. That being fluency, use, or comprehension.

I honestly don’t have a conclusion here. I should have thought ahead there... I feel you can label me a quasi-quadrilingual person. The skills I amount to that of the fluency of the fourth lol.

A last note: I used to be really good in Japanese and Portuguese, but I didn’t have the motive to maintain it.. As I don’t plan to live in Japan or Brazil etc, I felt maybe it wasn’t the right languages for me. But I was really decent at those languages in my teens!

#language