but then i saw a horse

justfangirlingaround  asked:

7 & 14 with Philip or John(whoever you feel more inspired with :3) and can it be something bad or sad happened to John/Philip and the reader comforts him and they talk about it and then they watch movies and cuddles to calm him down and it ends all cute and fluffy and him thanking the reader?~~😊💖✨

Ooo, you makin’ me write some angst! I chose John, hope that’s okay, Doll ✨
(T/W mentions of John’s dad being mean to him as a kid)


Anticipating a quiet evening with you husband, you walked through the door to be abruptly startled by yelling. Dropping your purse and keys, you ran through the apartment in search of the source. Your heart raced as opened each door.

“I waited, and waited, but you never came back!”  You heard John scream horsely at someone. 

You found the room and quickly shoved the door open. Your heart nearly stopped as you saw John standing across the room from you, tears just streaming down his cheeks as his chest was desperately heaving. He wasn’t in his usually arguing disposition, no, he looked so scared. Your mood changed from sadness to sheer anger as your eyes made their way across the room to see John’s father. You hated that man, he never supported John in anything. You had heard horror stories about how he used to treat John for showing interest in “things his father disapproved.” Since when was an interest in science a reason to hit a child? This man wasn’t even allowed to be at your wedding. 

“I didn’t come back, because you were a disappointment and needed to learn to stand on you own,” John’s father tried to justify his abandonment of John. 

“Then why are you here now?!” John asked.

“I wanted to see if you had changed…,but I see you’re still the disappointment I left-”

“Get out.” you said through gritted teeth, staring down the older man as you made your way to stand in front of John, “You have no right to our life.”

“I’m his father-”

“You lost that title years ago, you mean nothing…I said, get out.” you spat.

Reluctantly, he left, and you made sure to follow him until he was completely out of the apartment. Locking the door you rushed back to the room. Your heart broke even further when you saw John on his knees, his eyes were closed and his jaw was tightly clenched as he tried to repress all sounds of crying. You fell to your knees to comfort him, for a moment he tensed at your touch.

“It’s me! Babe, calm down, it’s me!” you stroked his hair and gently rocked him.

You felt his arms wrap around you tightly, he was still scared and you could feel him shaking. He soon fell apart completely fell apart in your arms, asking himself why, and shamelessly crying. You stayed with him, every time he whimpered you just wanted to make his pain go away, sadly you couldn’t. Those memories were engraved in his mind…forever feeling like a failure to his father.

After about an hour of sitting with him, he eventually pulled back. You waited for him to look up and make eye contact. John hated when you saw him like this, even though it was only the second time. He looked up, eyes red from all the tears and tear stains down cheeks. You immediately held his face in your hands, softly stroking his cheek, wiping away a few stray tears that fell. 

“Can we-…can we,” John started, but stopped, looking down again.

“Take your time,” you whispered. 

“Can we watch… Lady and the Tramp?” He met your eyes, sounding desperate for any form of approval, even just a yes to a simple question.

You tried your best not to cry, as you were supposed to be the strong one here, “Yes, yes of course, honey!” 

You hugged him one more time before bringing him to his feet. You both got in your Pj’s and John grabbed some blankets while you turned on the T.V. eventually getting it on the right input you placed the Dvd in the player. You stood and turned around with a smile, but gave a worried look as John held a blanket just staring at it. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” you rubbed up and down his biceps.

“Can you maybe-” he sounded shy, you knew exactly what he was asking for.

Without saying a word you sat at the end of the couch and held your arms out for him. He placed himself between your legs and rested his head on your stomach, with his arms wrapped around your waist. You absolutely loved it when you actually got to hold him, he let you braid and play with his hair, which actually calmed him. You rubbed his shoulder a little and he began to calm down, even quietly laughing at a part of the movie. You looked down to see his eyes slowly close.

“Thanks, for…taking care of me…” John whispered. 

“For better or for worse, I love you.”

the princess stayed in the tower and read books about better girls, where their hands learned how to hold swords, where they rode in on horses. i gave her books as often as i could. she devoured them.

her princes saw her and pretended to be scared off by dragons. got too lost in the thicket. didn’t want to handle it.

“tell me what it’s like, out there,” she whispers to me for the millionth time. i take her from The Throne into her bed, tucking her in and making sure her feet are covered. 

“boring without you” i say as always, “but i did bring back a great story.”

i tell her about how the stars change beyond the equator. how there are places it looks like there are twin suns. how the desert crawls into you but so does snow. i talk about the taste of fruit and promise to bring her back some. she falls asleep while i murmur about rivers, and then in the morning i bring her from bed to Throne, even though she can do it on her own. sometimes she likes help, is all, and i’m happy to give it. 

she doesn’t want help getting dressed. the men come for me, blindfold masters i have almost befriended. the path we take away from her is always different, carefully manufactured so i don’t know exactly where she’s located. after all, a lady might get ideas about things.

they let me go in the queen’s room. i report findings, ask for fruit in the next week’s supplies, am told not to spoil the princess, that she must be kind and waifish and wanting when the prince comes. i spend an hour suggesting that fruit might turn the blood sweeter and am allowed six oranges.

in the next week, she marvels over them. turns them in her calloused hands. smells them. holds them until she can’t control her curiosity, devours them. i bring her books about rivers. i bring her books about deserts. 

“when is our birthday?” she asks me tonight. i’m knitting her a scarf for it.

“soon,” i tell her, “i’ll come by.”

she rolls onto one side, looks up at me in the dimming light. “I’m glad they chose you to be mine,” she says, and i drop a stitch. my heart sings against the inside of my wrists. i blow out a candle so she can’t see the blush and i can’t see her lips. i know what she means, i say. i know what she means.

it’s twenty-three for both of us. i bring her a cake we both eat, her on her throne and me on the floor. i am in the middle of laughing when she falls silent in the still night. “nobody else ever comes for me,” she whispers. i say nothing.

we have more cake, we go to sleep. i don’t know if she knows i’m awake, but i hear her crying.

the men come, the men take me. the one that smells like cedar always laughs at my jokes. the queen half-hates me because i remind her of “that nasty thing” they forced on their daughter. 

“the left wheel needs oil,” i mention, “she’s having trouble turning again.”

the queen’s nose goes up. she never reacts when i mention her daughter’s wheelchair by name - doesn’t find it funny we call it a throne, thinks it’s well enough to leave alone.

“well, she’ll have a prince in this next month coming for her,” says the queen, “i’ve arranged it all,” says the queen, “he’s … had the situation explained to him first this time. i thought it would be best,” says the queen. “we’re paying him…. quite a lot for his effort,” says the queen.

situation. she means that her daughter can’t walk very far. she means the situation of towers. i excuse myself. i find my girl books about turning down marriage. i’m not sure why. it’s all she’s ever wanted.

they blindfold me and take me. cedar laughs at my jokes. the sawdust one is here this time, even he chuckles at a few. we ride horses through places i’ll never see clearly. 

“so according to the queen this is the last time i’m needed, huh?” i ask them as they walk me blindly up too many stairs for my girl to make it down, “i’m sorry i never made your acquaintance.”

cedar laughs. he takes off my blindfold and for a second, lets me see his face. “it’s been an honor,” he says, shaking my hand, “you’ve been a perfect lady.”

i spend the day with my princess pretending i am not peeling apart from my bones. i just want her to be happy. to get to come home. 

it’s late. “do you think in a past life i was a mermaid?” she asks.

“almost definitely,” i tell her. 

it’s quiet for a while after. “what if,” she whispers, “i don’t want to leave?”

i sit up and look at her from across the room. 

“it’s just,” she says, “i have you here and all the books i need and nobody makes me walk too long and i don’t feel like… like i’m wrong here.”

i want to tell her she’s never been wrong. that she’s always fit into my heart like a puzzle piece. that, more importantly, the leadership i see in her glows like a fire - that, no matter her body, she’s always been kind and gentle and smart and sweet. a princess that could bring a nation to her feet and do so lovingly.

“it will be okay,” i say, “there’s more fruit to discover.”

she doesn’t say anything. i think i’ve ruined something by accident, but i don’t know what. i don’t really sleep. i don’t say anything when the men come take me.

the world outside without her is boring. no mermaids. i put my hand in a river once a day, just thinking about her. 

two weeks later i am awoken by my name, and a voice i recognize perfectly. cedar stands above me in the darkness. “i know two things in this world,” he says to me, “and one of them is about love.”

this time we make the trip without blindfolds. i see the squalor they keep her in. i see the waste surrounding her castle, the terrible place she’s in. rage fuels my footsteps even when they start flagging. 

the prince is already there. he has dropped her twice, cedar tells me. i am already running up the stairs even though i can barely breathe. i hear her crying through the door and i don’t need to get ready - the fire that starts in me burns so brightly.

i roar inside. turn dragon and beat back prince with girl made rage. the bruises on her body turn me into giant snake. i eat the man alive, or at least i chase him from the place, never to be seen again. later i will hear a rumor about a demon that stole the princess from him.

she cries into my arms. i take her down every single stair. i hear her murmur her thanks into my hair and then i kiss her, because i can’t handle it, because i have places to show her and she has my heart to lead.

my house isn’t much but it’s near a river. she likes putting her hands into it. i take her places when she is able, and otherwise i bring the places back. we read books together. cedar no longer works for the queen, but he’d rather live with the man of sawdust making tiny wooden figurines.

i lie in bed next to her, stroking her soft hair. “do you think i was a centaur in a past life?” she asks.

“definitely,” i tell her, and kiss her, gently. she holds my face and pulls herself closer to me.

“will i be a good queen? i mean, in this life?”

“i’m certain of it,” i reply. i can hear the truth ring in it. the bone-deep certainty.

she’s quiet for a moment. “you saved me,” she whispers, “and usually we’d end up married. but…”

i don’t know how to answer that. i feel ice down my spine suddenly.

“i’m not demanding, is all,” her voice shakes, “i’m asking this time. for you to choose me. for me to be yours, i mean. and for you to be mine. permanently.”

the next birthday we celebrate, we are both queens.

Horizon Zero Dawn and Cultural appropriation: A very different view.

For the first time EVER, I’m sitting on the other side of a discussion about appropriating native culture.  Why?  Well, let me lay the framework.

First off, I’m not a guy who “knows a Native American” or has a “Native friend”  I am a 100% Anishinabe (Ojibway) dude who lives on reserve and has fought racism, stereotypes, pan-Indianism, and cultural appropriation fiercely for as long as I can remember. I’ve been the victim of horrendous racial violence as a child, adolescent, and adult, and I’m also a gamer.

I am the first to point out anything that smacks of any of the above and after I saw the Dia Lacina essay on “Horizon: Zero Dawn” being culturally insensitive and appropriating Native culture, I felt for the first time in a situation like this that I had to say something in rebuttal.

Lacina takes issue with the use of the words Tribal, Primitive, Braves, and Savage being used in the game (fyi they’re used to describe predominantly white people in game and they’re White words we didn’t use to describe ourselves thus I claim no ownership of, nor want to, anymore than I want to be a redskin, Indian or Wahoo)  

It seems (IMO) that most of her beef comes from an apparent belief that numerous aspects of generic tribal culture that appear in the game (making clothing from skins, hunting with spears and bows, living in a Matriarchal society, etc) are the sole domain of the Native American and just to be safe and cleverly keep her POV less subject to scrutiny, she applies it even more broadly to indigenous people world wide (I will just refer to us in particular as NA cuz I’m lazy and I also don’t refer to myself as a Native American) and basically that anything that is remotely “tribal” shouldn’t be used in gaming without our or someone else’s permission.

 In fairness, I don’t know if she’s actually played the game but as someone who is currently in the midst of doing exactly that, I can tell you that I have a pretty good idea of what stuff triggered her being upset and why, and while I absolutely respect her right to get offended by whatever she likes, and she makes excellent points about some other games, I am going to point out that there are flaws with this logic.

First of all, the basics: HZD is set in a post-post-apocalyptic future where people are living in tribal groups in a very destroyed world.  Machines exist but as hybrid animal/dinosaur type creatures and technology is pretty much non-existent in day to day human life.  

The heroine of the story is a red haired, white girl named Aloy who lives as an outcast with her adopted father, Rost.  Without giving a lot away, they are fiercely shunned by the local tribe for something Rost did and also the fact that Aloy is motherless.  

Impressively and rightly, though somewhat dismissively remarked upon by Lacina, is the way women and especially women of color are portrayed so positively in-game as this particular tribe is a total Matriarchy run by elders of various ethnicity.  African, Asian, White, and a variety of undefined people of color are common everywhere in the game.  (The leader of one band of warriors is a very fierce, commanding, intelligently portrayed black woman with a powerful presence.)  It reflects a fairly global society from a “skin color” perspective without any horrible accents or broken speech.

They worship an “All-Mother” goddess and their culture is (at least how I saw a lot of it) fairly heavy on European i.e. Celtic, Germanic, Scandinavian, etc type symbolism and the rest is filled in with mostly generic tribal-ish stuff that you could find in countless cultures around the world.

 I really didn’t get a “Native American” vibe off the game.  Of course, I don’t automatically presume to claim sole ownership of things like tribal life, hunting with bows and spears, and worshiping spirits of various elements solely for my own.  Random fact: Because there are over 500 distinct First Nations in N. America, we, believe it or not, didn’t all ride horses, live in tipis, use bows and arrows, tobacco and sage, and worship Eagles and Wolves.  Why? Well…use your brain.  Tobacco and Sage don’t grow EVERYWHERE, horses came over with the Europeans (and if you saw where I live you couldn’t have and cant for the most part get a horse through the bush if you tried) Eagles and Wolves don’t live EVERYWHERE….get the point?  Anyways….

If you examine Rost, he like most of the men has a braided beard and other seemingly Viking/Middle Ages inspired features, is white, speaks clear, unbroken English, and is a loving, protective and very positive role model for the girl.   Aloy for her part, is also fairly Viking-esque (to the point of looking incredibly like Lagaertha from the show Vikings but with red hair) also Egrit from GoT, and is no damsel in distress who needs men to save her. NOWHERE in the game have I encountered any Tipis, wigwams, Sweatlodges, or Non-White people speaking in stereotypical “Me smoke-um peace pipe, He go dat-a way” fashion.

The  opening cinematic is very touching (and long) as we see the orphaned Aloy as a baby in Rost’s care being carried around in a bundle on his back (which pretty much every culture did in one form or another at some point in time) and him ultimately taking her to the spot where a child of the tribe receives it’s name.

I really liked this idea as it isn’t often portrayed in a lot of mediums outside of stereotypical “Dances With Wolves” bullshit. Also, naming ceremonies are not the sole domain of NA people and what occurs bears zero resemblance to any NA ceremony I know of.  (It was actually a little Lion King at one point lol) But it’s a powerful moment in the beginning with much more that occurs during it but I won’t spoil that either.

Aloy herself is a pretty complex character.  She’s extremely independent, defiant, and questions pretty much everything about why things are the way they are and wants to do something about it.  You actually begin playing her as a 6 year old which is pretty unique and even then she’s tough and fearless and determined to explore her world.  

She is in no way hyper-sexualized (I’m looking your way Overwatch) Her clothing and everyone else’s, is utilitarian and appropriate for the environments she lives in, and so far, I have not encountered anything with her or any other character that made me go “WTF?”and trust me, my radar for that shit is HIGHLY SENSITIVE.  This isn’t Avatar, people.  It’s not John Smith. It’s not The Great Wall or Pocahontas.  This isn’t white dude shows up and saves the helpless non-white people while helpless native woman falls in love with him stuff.  It’s a fictitious future where we maniacs blew it up, damn us all to hell!

But here’s the more annoying thing for me as an actual Anishinabe.  I don’t need people speaking for me or getting offended on my behalf.  I am very capable of doing that myself. I am also in no way writing this claiming to be speaking for any other NA people or persons. It’s based on my observations from actually playing HZD and examining the various fictional “cultural” elements in the game.

If you see a skin tied inside a hoop and automatically assume it’s a dreamcatcher” ripping off “our culture” (FYI Dreamcatchers are a 20th century thing whose popularity was a result of pan-Indianism that exploded in the 70s.) or if you see feathers on a spear or as part of a costume (nowhere is anyone wearing a single eagle feather in the back of a beaded headband or a Dakota looking headdress either) and automatically presume it to be ripping off NA culture, you’re REEEEEEEEEEALY reaching.  If you think caring for the environment, obeying matriarchs, worshipping elemental spirits, or making your own clothes is solely the property of NA culture, see previous statement.

By all means get offended.  Get offended by Chief Wahoo.  Get offended by the Washington Redskins.  Get offended that thousands of Native women have been murdered or gone missing and nothing’s been done about it.  Get offended by Johnny Depp or Robert Beltran playing Native people instead of actual Native people getting those roles.  Get offended by shit like Adam Sandler’s “Ridiculous 6” where a native woman is called a “hot piece of red prairie meat” or Depp’s “Lone Ranger” movie.

Get offended that my family was destroyed by the Residential Schools and that the 60s scoop took babies away from their families and people, that forced sterilizations took place and mass graves of dead Native children exist at former Residential School sites.

Don’t just jump on the I’m offended bandwagon because you saw some feathers or skins or spears or bows in a game and immediately grew indignant and wanted to claim them as OUR culture.  They’re not.  They’re almost globally universal in numerous cultures at various points in time.  Get offended, as she rightly mentioned, when the game Overwatch sexualizes the shit out of almost every female character and takes West Coast tribal art and makes a costume out of it.  

THAT is appropriation.  White people holding powwows in Europe (powwows are also pretty much not traditional and are extremely pan-Indian, not to mention full of us appropriating each other’s Native cultures ie. Dakotas wearing Jingle Dresses, Ojibway wearing Dakota regalia, etc) is appropriation.

This game……I’m just not seeing it the same way.  And I’m nobody.  I have no ties to Guerilla or anybody other than myself and my community.

w4w guide to girls

wow, so you’re probably thinking to yourself or selves right now, “what are girls? where do i meet girls? how do i get them to like me? why does it feel like someone is peering into my mind right now?” and other pressing questions. today i will answer three of them.

what are girls?

girls are girls. they’re whatever girls are. girls are tall. sometimes they are not. sometimes they seem to have inverse heights that distort the space around them. some girls have vaginas or penises or any other variation and maybe even nothing. it’s amazing how many things that girls are and often these things are contradictory or paradoxical on the quantum level. if you’re reading this, you may yourself be a girl. if you’re not sure, try asking yourself “am i a girl?” if yourself says yes, then you’re a girl. if no, sorry, this isn’t for you. if you’re not sure or you find out new information later come back and read this another time.

where do i meet girls?

girls can be found just about anywhere. a cave. in a dream. at a noise show. anywhere. sometimes they don’t even exist at all for long periods of time before manifesting themselves physically after a series of rituals involving candles and/or swear-heavy incantations. girls like dark, damp places. sometimes they do not and they like other places. i once met a girl in a house i was living in. that girl was my mom. this is not a guide on meeting your mom. you want to meet a girl you can date. 

how do i get a girl to like me?

no one knows. i once got a girl to like me by mentioning nihilism as a means of survival. sometimes they like it when you make a joke about a horse. i once liked a girl because i saw her lift 200 lbs over her head. there are likely an infinite number of ways to get girls to like or dislike you. this often depends on the girl. is the girl a goth? try wearing all black or, if you don’t own enough black clothing, blotting out the sun with your foul miasma. is the girl into hiking? try corralling deer and wolves into her home to recreate her favorite surroundings. is the girl a timeless entity beyond mortal understanding? try flowers.

i hope this helped and you can all meet some nice girls to kiss or hold hands or enact full communism with <3

THE PRETTY LITTLE LIARS ENDGAME

It is bittersweet that I present to you my last ever theory for Pretty Little Liars. I apologise in advance for the insane length, but this is covering all those frustrating loose ends across the entire series. I hope you can make it to the end so we can discuss. My only fear for this theory is that it is too daring and gutsy; it would re-define the show we thought we knew. Are the writers willing to ‘go there’ in just 10 episodes? I don’t know! Regardless if this is all right, partially right, or so damn wrong, I hope you have as much fun reading this as I did putting this together the past two months! For the last time before the show ends… I hope you enjoy!

Keep reading

A mother and her children.

Most countries have a version of the werewolf and a creature sitting on people’s chests at night giving them nightmares. These are the versions from Denmark.

If a pregnant woman wanted an easy birth she could crawl naked through the amniotic sac of a horse during a full moon. This was because people believed horses have the most painless birth of all animals.

She would get an easy birth, but if she had a son he would be a werewolf, and a daughter would be a mare (as in nightmare). Children born this way were sometimes called marewolves (mareulve), combining the two words.

Danish werewolves only had three legs and transformed every night. The werewolf could end his curse in a few different ways. He could eat the heart of a male fetus, so this kind of werewolf often attacked pregnant women. If someone else said to him “You’re a werewolf” the curse would be lifted from him, but be transferred to the person who said it. The safest way to end the curse was for someone to call out his Christian name while he was in wolf form. That would force him to turn into a human, and then a priest could bless him and he would never have to transform again.

Like werewolves the mares walked around during daytime as normal women, but at night they turned into nightmarish creatures who could enter houses as mist. They would hug or sit on people, giving them horrible nightmares. The victim would be able to see them, but they’d be invisible to everyone else. They could be sort-of cured too. If a person saw someone having a horrible nightmare they could throw cold water on them and the mare would appear as a normal person. People could also plug the hole the mare had entered though and trap her in the room. The victim would see her as this terrifying creature all night, but in the morning she would transform into her normal self with no memory of what had happened. She would stay human until someone unplugged the hole at which point she would remember everything and turn into a mist, going back to her mare ways. If she had children during her time as a human she would return at night to make sure they were okay.

Women could also be werewolves if they got hold of a wolf pelt, and men could become mares if they desired someone too much, or was envious of another person’s possessions. Sometimes they became mares randomly, and my favorite male mare story also shows how far a mare could travel in a night:


A Danish farmer walked into his stables at night and saw his horse having a terrible nightmare. He threw cold water on it and suddenly he saw a naked man sitting on it. The man looked at him and said “You shouldn’t have done that. I have a wife and children back in England, but now I’m stuck here”

Phil’s Livestream // 3.2.17

He’s wearing his Oscar’s Hotel shirt

It’s spring according to Phil

“You can hear little lambs popping out of other lambs”

He saw a daffodil and a bee today

Oscars aka Is Philly Gonna Stay Awake

“We’re having a bit of a creepy shot war” about him and Dan

We’re pretending nothing happened in the first 10 minutes because he forgot to tweet

He ate loads of snacks

He was awake for best picture

“Dan freaked out. I think he woke up all the neighbors by screaming at the tv.”

He was Zombie Phil for a few days

Dan may pop in let’s see 

He’s excited for the new Zelda game but he’s still playing Final Fantasy 

He’s invested in the Horse Prince story

They got pancakes delivered for Pancake Day 

He went mad with power in the new Sims video

He’s deciding what clothes to wear to charity and we’re helping him choose what to get rid of 

He’s keeping the blue hoodie, a checkered shirt, the jellyfish shirt, and a flamingo button down

“You don’t suit red’. I’M WEARING RED!”

RIP a penguin shirt, a domo shirt, a color changing shirt

Dan came in wrapped in a blanket

He looks like ET

He’s glad Phil’s getting rid of the color changing shirt

They watched ET together the other day

“You look like such a funny creature” Phil to Dan

He’s filming a new AmazingPhil video this week

Dan may also film a video it’s PHilming week

FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT

“This is what happens when you share a camera”

“Yeah. Wait uh no.”

Phil was looking at a chocolate magazine so Dan threw it across the room

They went to tea yesterday but they got caked out

Phat

Dan dreamt he was on a game show with Emma Roberts and she was trying to get him to say hello to Evan Peters but he was too shy

Phil dreamt about harvesting lemons

Wholesome Howell

Dan has a video to edit hmm

Dan left bye

“What a weirdo”

He cracked a rib once

He’s not really for fruit on pancakes

He almost bought a goldfish

He’s interested in Riverdale but he’s not “in the fandom”

His eyebrows are the same today as they’ve always been in case you were wondering

He usually has 2 coffees a day but he’s been trying to cute back

He doesn’t like the dentist 

He doesn’t want/need braces

“I think it adds character” about his crooked teeth

He listened to Green Light before his liveshow

“Life is good”

“Thank you for keeping me company”

Goodbye via wolf howl 

Mentions of Dan: how tf am i supposed to count this he joined the liveshow thanks for ruining the system Mr. DanIsNotOnFire

Various Sentence Starters

“I love how you NEVER PAY ATTENTION TO ME”

“No I won’t stop stapling tortillas to the wall this is ART”

“Your underwear is really ugly, you should take them off”

“Last time you wanted to watch a horror movie you cried all night and didn’t sleep for three days”

“Knock knock! …Knock knock…? Okay I swear I won’t say banana again”

“I swear to drunk I’m not God”

“My doctor said you shouldn’t drink after taking meds, so I take them WITH alcohol”

“I know I haven’t showered in a week but I saw a spider in the tub and LOST IT”

“hELLO!! tHe mOST impOrTANT PERSON IS HOME!!!”

“Yeah can I get 20 mcdoubles. Yeah, 20. Two zero.”

“Okay you could go to work but get this, how about instead- you don’t and stay in bed with me”

“It’s not a fetish until you have a Deviantart collection for it”

“Mini horses make me so uncomfortable, I want them to be normal sized”

“I’m gonna make dinner so go ahead and have the fire department and pizza hut on speed dial”

“Oh yeah I’ve totally done- uh- weed. I love gardening”

“It’s not an obsession it’s a keen interest- I don’t care if I have three body pillows it’s a KEEN INTEREST”

“Maybe if I just ignore them they’ll stop trynna kill me”

“I’ll just put this fire over here with the rest of the fire”

“Can you believe that people actually ENJOY coleslaw?? What savages”

“First time I kissed a boy was the time I realized I was probably homosexual”

“It’s not gay if it’s for art”

“I like you but in the ‘please shut up for five seconds’ way”

“Let’s get fake ID’s and buy fish from Petco”

“I brought home a kitten, her name is Mary Lious Ann Kate the Third”

“I just hate the word moist, it makes me so uncomfortable”

“Starbucks is so overpriced let’s go get a frap”

I recently stumbled across some storyboards for Tangled, and I saw this one panel that had Maximus ( the horse ) dragging Flynn by the scruff of the neck. It really made me want to draw Noodle dragon no.1 ™ dragging McCree away from Hanzo when he’s about to make what he thinks is a smooth move on Hanzo. I’ve been insanely busy with work lately, but I get some time off soon so more drawings! yey! :D 

Phil’s Livestream // 2.23.17

He’s wearing his NASA shirt

“Have a cup of tea. Hang out with me!”

Storm Doris has attacked a wheely bin outside

His plants have been gaining leaves he’s doing something right

Trampoline videos

“Tie some bricks to it”

He worries about cats and dogs during storms he hopes your cats are okay

“Calm down. Have a green tea. Stop being so stressed.” him @ the storm sky

He got a haircut today at his house (sides are short but not shaved)

They talked about dogs

He finds hoovering quite fun

Hoover Fantasies 

Phil’s Liveshow Haul

Follow him on twitter @ AmazingPhil #spon

His hippo lamp

He looked up the most dangerous animals (hippo is #4)

Hippo facts

Pictures vs memories discussion

The Impossible Quiz was exhausting

Probs not Impossible Quiz #2

“Don’t watch me in jail”

He froze for a minute (or it was a really good mannequin challenge can’t tell)

He melted a bit of his NASA shirt while ironing rip

7 new planets discussion 

“Maybe just leave them alone if they’re happy, you know?”

He gets very excited at the idea of space giraffes 

Lots of universe discussion

Shrimp Prince

He’s seen Moonlight, Manchester by the Sea, and La La Land but Arrival was his favorite 

What fictional universe would you rather live in 

Shrimp Prince of the Rings

Itchy nose

He got a navy blue jumper with a geometric bird on it that he may wear in his next video

He also got the “scent of happiness”

No bad cinema experiences this time 

Pastel edits irl

He likes his black hair a lot so he won’t be changing it soon

“I’ve already got a toddler called Dab”

He’s loving Final Fantasy XV

BROadtrip 

“Could’ve used more diversity”

He took the troll wig Dan mentioned to the charity shop soz

He ate the moss surrounding his cocktail oops

He saw Book of Mormon with his parents 

Horse Prince

New gaming video tomorrow

It’s kind of long but also a Dan vs Phil

They’re going to an Oscar’s party so hopefully he can stay awake

The couple that made him bonk his head on the window

The coffee table is out to get him 

Grammar

They watched Speed and Speed 2 Cruise Control 

50% 2017 calendar (code: FLASHSALE) at DanandPhilShop.com

They’re still working on the pastel merch

They’re going back to Australia coolforsummerfest.com.au 

He’s going to watch Bates Motel again 

He’s watching Riverdale and Homeland 

“I hope you have a great weekend”

“I’ve hoped you’ve had a great evening. Thanks for choosing to spend it with me.”

Mentions of Dan: ||||| |||

anonymous asked:

You have the BEST stories! Can you tell me a bedtime story?

i will tell you a story friends, and probably you will regret asking me to do so, because its not really a very restful story. i….dont really have any of those.


this is the story of how steve and a horse almost gave me a heart attack.
back when i was a kid, cars were a thing that existed but were mostly really really expensive, so horses were still a common sight on the streets of brooklyn. most of these horses were exceedingly large, calm animals; they hauled around big carts of stuff on crowded streets. back then, milk was delivered to your doorstep by a milkman. the milkman who worked our block was mr. davies, and he was this very nice older black gentleman. i mention that he’s black because racism was Very Much A Thing (oh how times have changed). but mr davies always had peppermint candies in his pockets to give to thunderhead, his horse, and he would always give one to stevie and i if he saw us. so stevie loved mr davies, and if anyone was being disrespectful towards him because he was black, stevie would pretty much blow his top. mr davies loved steve for it, of course. but since mr daives didnt want to get steve in trouble, he’d usually whistle me over (if i wasnt already there) to haul steve off before he did something drastic. mr davies was great like that. 

anyway, mr davies was around every morning dropping off milk with thunderhead. thunderhead was this huge dapple grey horse, i think a percheron?? a big draft horse, with hooves about the size of a dinner plate. aside from her size, her name was probably the most intimidating thing about her, because she was the most mild-mannered horse ive ever met. she would let all the little neighborhood kids climb all over her, and mr davies would usually let two or three of us ride on her back down the street. she never really noticed the extra weight. i think that if mr davies ever slept in, thunderhead would go walk his route without him. she loved stevie too–but for very different reasons. steve’s hair apparently looked exactly like hay to her, so she’d wander over and start lipping the top of his head. she never nipped or anything, but steve always got amusingly flaily when she did it, and i always suspected she thought it was funny.

one boiling hot summer morning, steve and i were sitting on the front steps of our building, just wasting time. it was early, but already awfully hot out, so when mr davies rounded the corner, steve decided to go meet him, but i stayed on the steps. it was hot. i didnt wanna move. 

anyway, steve went trotting down the block, said hi to old mrs mckinnon, who was on her way to get groceries, and was about a hundred feet away from mr davies and thunderhead when the wind picked up. it was a very nice refreshingly cool breeze, which picked up some of the debris–old newspapers and leaves and such–hanging around and tossed it across the road. 

now, if you know horses, you know that sometimes they get terrified by utterly ridiculous things. im told many horses nowadays think plastic bags are the minions of evil, and horses back then were much the same. id never seen thunderhead scared before, but i guess a bit of newspaper whipped in front of her and was the spitting image of Pony Satan himself, because her eyes went white around the edges and she took off running. mr davies was around back of the cart, getting milk out, so there was nobody at the reins to stop her. she went tearing down the block, the cart bouncing along behind, like there was a pack of slavering borzoi chasing after. and of course she was headed right at steve and old mrs mckinnon. 

steve, being the brave little idiot he was, didnt run; old mrs mckinnon wouldnt be able to get out of the way in time, so he stood his ground, flung his arms out, and waited to get trampled by a rogue milk cart. all of us there thought we were gonna be scraping tiny blonde guy off the pavement, because thunderhead just kept going. 

but about ten feet away from steve, thunderhead must have recognized him, because she went to a screeching stop. four feet down, all her knees locked, skiddin on the cobblestones. normally, she’d probably have been able to stop in that distance, but she was still harnessed to that heavy milk cart, so instead she plowed right into stevie, chest first. 

he went flying. he mustve gone about six feet through the air, and he hit the ground and just laid there like a sack of really dead potatoes. i thought he must have broken his little toothpick spine. poor thunderhead looked just as scared as i was, because she got her feet back under her and crept up on him like the cart wasnt jangling right behind her. she dropped her nose down and started whuffing and lipping at his hair, and he popped up like a damn weasel. little moron was fine. he nearly gave me and mr davies and old mrs mckinnon and thunderhead all a heart attack, but he was fine. 

and mr davies gave him his whole bag of peppermints, and mrs mckinnon gave him a chocolate, so he didnt even learn to not do stupid shit like that.