“She was so much better at being alone; being alone came more naturally to her. She led a life of deliberate solitude, and if occasional loneliness crept in, she knew how to work her way out of that particular divot. Or even better, how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts.”
― Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney, The Nest


Every time I watch Tangled, I notice something different. Sometimes it’s about how lines are said or the writing in general or background imagery. Sometimes It’s just something about costume design.

Last night, I noticed for the first time that, at the very back of Rapunzel’s crown, there’s a little divot with a ruby set in it. Rather than being a smooth circle, it has that little design. And I noticed, when she’s trying it on in front of the mirror, that little shape helps to hold it in her hair and probably keeps it from shifting.


Here’s a little something while I continue working on the 3D sans. My old ref/interpretation for him is seriously outdated and honestly kinda hard to look at without cringing. Other artists have been making refs for their specific sans designs too, which helped inspire me to make this.

Design specs under the cut.

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robin’s egg blue

based loosely off of 3.10 and its lovely accompanying blog post. a gift of sorts for @brandnewfashion as she’s had to listen to me blubber and cry about these past few updates over the phone 😁

It isn’t even until he sits down on Bitty’s mattress that Jack realizes he’s cold.

This early in the morning, the silence in the Haus is as deep and supple as leather. Safe, like the soft hum of a radio from behind closed doors. Perhaps it’s that safety, the sense of familiarity, that helps Jack regain awareness of his own body. Limb by limb, beat by beat. He slumps, sinking into the warm, shallow divot left behind on the mattress, the exact spot where Bitty must have been sleeping.

It’s strange—he can’t even remember much about his drive from Providence to Samwell. All he can remember is the rain, falling from the sky in sheets. The sharp, repetitive whine of the windshield wipers working at full speed. The forced pulse of his own breath. Bitty’s voice, ashamed and weary and pleading, looping on repeat through his brain.

But now he’s here, at last, with Bitty close enough to touch, and Jack aches.

“—and your pants, oh, I do hope they aren’t made of wool, honey, it’ll be a wonder if they dry by morning,” Bitty says, still trying to fold Jack’s sodden pants over a hanger. Jack knows that he’s taking longer than necessary, knows it from the way Bitty’s movements are still jagged and raw, the way his face is turned away as he fusses.

Unperturbed, Jack shrugs out of his suit jacket, drapes it over Bitty’s desk chair. Slowly begins to unbutton the dress shirt that has stuck to his arms and chest like a second skin.

He hears a soft intake of breath and looks up. Bitty is holding a towel now, standing closer than expected. His eyes seem drawn to the space between the third and fourth buttons that Jack had just wrangled free. He has his bottom lip caught fiercely between his teeth, and Jack has never seen anything braver in his life.

“You fool,” Bitty whispers again, and Jack shivers. He drops his hands from his shirt, opens his knees to invite Bitty into his space.

“Hey,” he says softly in reply.

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The girls who love you
keep slipping through your fingers
after of all this talk
of how sure you are that
they deserve better.
This is how you push women
out of your life with mouthfuls
of good intentions.
You know what you’re doing,
but they were always
so beautiful and so kind,
and you never believed
you could love them right.
Not when you loved like the
rusty joints of rattling traincars.
You’ve never had hands like
a midsummer sunset, but god—
you loved a woman who did.
She was too much for you.
Too real, too alive.
She kissed the crickets
from your lungs, and you
forgot how to speak in the face
of her fearless quiet.
Like handspun glory,
like the divots in a hardwood floor—
her skin was soft and dark and holy,
and you were lying
when you said
you didn’t love her
—  But You Leave Them, by Ashe Vernon
microwave apple breakfast

This was a weekend breakfast to me but a nice warm apple dish needs no set time of day. No added sugar, no eggs, and simple cleanup. I love to prepare in and eat out of the same bowl. For one serving:

  • apple, on the sweet and small side (depending on your appetite)
  • milk of preference
  • cinnamon
  • flour of preference
  • nut butter of preference
  • creamy topping such as coconut cream, whipped cream, or yogurt
  1. Dice your apple into a microwave safe bowl.
  2. Pour milk (mine was almond) into bowl, just enough to cover apple pieces
  3. Add one or two dashes of cinnamon
  4. Spoon and stir in flour (mine was a gluten free, whole grain mix) into bowl–just enough to absorb all the milk and coat the apples evenly. Don’t worry about it needing to look runny enough, as the apples will release moisture while they cook (try three tablespoons, then go to four or five if necessary)
  5. Smush a divot into the middle of your bowl. I hear this helps it microwave more evenly and helps prevent microwave explosions. Even so, cover your bowl and microwave for 30-60 second intervals for about 2-3 minutes based on how soft you think your apples should be.
  6. Remove from microwave and add a touch of nut butter, to taste (mine was almond). Stir up your bowl and incorporate the butter into your chunks of apples and sorta pancake-y stuff. It’s not meant to be pretty, but it is tasty. Almost like an apple crumble pie, but less fussy.
  7. When the apples aren’t molten anymore, dig in! Feel free to add a dollop of yogurt or whipped cream (the coconut milk fat trick worked great) for an additional creamy texture. I hope someone out there likes it!
She was so much better at being alone; being alone came more naturally to her. She led a life of deliberate solitude, and if occasional loneliness crept in, she knew how to work her way out of that particular divot. Or even better, how to sink in and absorb its particular comforts.
—  Cynthia D'Aprix Sweeney, The Nest

Game of Thrones Wax Seal Coasters $19.99

  • Silicone
  • Comes in a Game of Thrones tin canister
  • Not dishwasher safe
  • Dimensions: : 3 ¼" divot for glass, “wax” seal varies from 4-5" in diameter, 5 ½" diameter on tin
  • Includes: Stark, Targaryen, Lannister, Baratheon, Greyjoy, and Tyrell

the-tao-of-fandom  asked:

For prompts: So I'm interested to hear about the courtship of female Sam Vimes and Lady Ramkin because obviously that's something everyone needs in their lives. (or just the life of a female Sam in general)

inspired by x

Those nights when she makes it home at something approaching a decent hour, Sam will lie in bed with Sybil’s head on her stomach. Sybil keeps her hair very short and fine beneath her wigs, and Sam likes the feel of it, tracing every dip and line of Sybil’s skull, from the soft rolls of her neck to the slope of her temples, the sharp curve of her widow’s peak. Her fingertips could map out Ankh-Morpork on Sybil’s skin, though sometimes she got distracted and forgot where Scooner’s Lane ended and the faint divot beneath Sybil’s ear began.

Sometimes Sybil will talk, or read aloud, and Sam thinks—there’s the Chase, there is always the Chase, but this might the only thing she’s ever known where there’s joy in the having.

What are you thinking about? Sybil asks sometimes, and Sam says, Nothing, nothing. Tell me more, I was listening. I like listening to you.


There was an Understanding.

The Understanding was: Her Grace, Lady Sybil Deidre Olgivanna Ramkin, had, on the twelfth of May, married Captain Samantha Vimes of the Ankh-Morpork Watch. It was a very lovely ceremony. There had been cake.

Questions on the matter, such as “is there legal precedent for this”, “where exactly are the records for—” and “how does a noble title pass to a duchess’ wife” could be respectfully addressed to the Patrician.

It was amazing how quickly people Understood, when Vetinari was suggested as the alternate means of education.

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When he pondered profoundly upon the question he himself posed that somewhat vexed him, Jongdae realized he did not fall in love with the beautiful things.

Not in the amicable smiles or the hearty laughter, not in the embarrassing way Joonmyeon danced or the way his eyes creased into crescents when he uttered his name with so much adoration.

No, he fell in love with the tears that trickled down marble cheeks in rivulets, in the searing blood plummeting in droplets against the flooring, in the human that was falling apart before his eyes, second by second, breath by breath. Flawed, divoted, destroyed, immaculately disassembled, no longer a human but a walking carcass.

He fell in love with the Joonmyeon that cried against his shoulder, that fell asleep breathing with heavy chest, with the person he watched getting hurt day by day, more and more. He fell in love with Joonmyeon who whispered his name in sleep, curled up like an infant. Pitiful.

He fell in love with the Student Body President who rolled down his sleeves and fastened them with leather bracelets to hide his wrists from the sight of curious bystanders, in the tear stained lips he kissed to alleviate the pain, in the eyelashes that fluttered with every saddened blink. He fell in love with the man behind the impeccable façade of behaved decorum and polite manners – in the walking carcass with viviparous daisies sprouting through his lungs.

I wonder if the corruption being a diamond-specific power is just bc only diamonds have access to that tech due to their position in command or if it’s a nod to them being at the top of the Mohs scale and being able to damage every other gemstone

I just got back from seeing sausage party.
I got three new experiences from it.

1. I have never felt so much sincere physical pain in my life from watching a movie. From the opening musical number to the five minute graphic food orgy at the end I was slowly caving in on myself. I was beginning to implode and become a black hole.

2. I had never ever wanted a movie that I had payed money to see to be over.

3. I have personally never witness whole groups of people exit a movie theater while the movie was still playing

Not to mention all of the countless stereotypes offensive bathroom humor and disgusting imagery

Mars Rover Landing Zone Scars Have Curiously Darkened

When NASA’s Mars rover Curiosity touched down inside Gale Crater in August 2012, it did so in dramatic fashion. In the final stages of its daring descent, the rover’s rocket-powered landing platform — known as a sky crane — lit up and blasted the dusty surface, carving out darkened divots before separating from the rover and flying out of harms way.

Over the months and years after landing, the High-Resolution Imaging Science Experiment (HiRISE) camera on board NASA’s Mars Reconnaissance Orbiter has been keeping track of changes around Curiosity’s landing zone (named “Bradbury Landing”), the crash site of the sky crane and the parachute-endowed back-shell that slowed the rover’s entry into the Martian atmosphere. Details