floor cube

Lover // Reddie Imagine

Originally posted by beepsrichie

a/n: I actually don’t think I’ve written since the summer and that makes me so sad so I’m sorry i haven’t written in forever but I hope I make up for it with a Reddie imagine, also this is like an au where Richie is the one to change the loser into lover on Eddie’s cast cause guess what they’re in love

Richie Tozier x Eddie Kaspbrak

“Can I sign your cast?”

Eddie sat straight up from where he was lounging on the couch in Bill’s garage with a surprised look on his face. The only other person in the garage that evening was Eddie’s somewhat obnoxious friend Richie, everyone else had plans for the day but the two boys.

“What?” Eddie asked, gazing at the only boy person in the room. Richie was laying on the ground beside the sofa Eddie was in, with his back pressed against the floor and a rubik’s cube fiddled with in his hands. His curly brown locks were spread out around his face and the corner of his shirt was lifted slightly enough to revel a strip of pale white skin. 

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Fanfiction: Coming out is the easy part

One shot collection about Peter Parker. At night he is our favourite friendly neighborhood Spider Man but during the day he is just a normal transgender boy.

Current chapter: 1 Stick to the script (Coming out to Tony)

Summary: Peter has a hard time coming out to Tony.

Characters: Peter Parker | Tony Stark | Ned Leeds (minor character)

tags: Trans!PeterParker | Hurt/Comfort | dysphoria | Dad!Tony | awkward fluff | Tony Stark has a heart

Special thanks to @transpeterparkers who prompted me and was overall very nice and encouraging. Check out their blog. They are amazing.

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The historicity of Satine Kryze

I feel kind of awful discussing Satine Kryze after so many weeks of Maul but, well, when in Mandalore…

Duchess Satine Kryze is pacifist the ruler of Mandalore first introduced in The Clone Wars episode The Mandalore Plot. Her initial design was drawn from an unused McCaig concept for The Phantom Menace, but it has also been stated that Cate Blanchett was a key influence in her overall design. (given the appearance of Governor Pryce in Rebels season 3, it’s apparent that Blanchett is someone’s favourite over at LFL.) Blanchett’s role as Queen Elizabeth I was particularly drawn on, Satine’s key costuming borrowing many late Tudor/early Elizabethan elements, and certain parallels between the two women’s lives. 

L: Elizabeth as portrayed by Cate Blanchett with Robert Dudley (Joseph Fiennes) in Elizabeth. Preparing to be escorted to her incarceration in the Tower of London at the order of her sister Queen Mary I (’Bloody Mary’). R: Satine Kryze being rescued from her imprisonment by Obi-Wan Kenobi in Lawless.

Satine, as a young woman, lived her early years constantly at threat during the Mandalorian Civil War, her pacifist ideology at odds with ‘true’ warrior-like Mandalorian ways. Eventually peace was brokered, and Satine ruled over the New Mandalore even as violence, danger and oppositional factions brewed. In a way this could be seen to draw from Queen Elizabeth I’s tumultuous childhood: first as a child out of favour with her father King Henry VIII, being the child of ‘treasonous’ Anne Boleyn, then as a protestant young woman in the reign of her Catholic half-sister Queen Mary I. In this time Elizabeth was raised as a figurehead for Protestant rebellion, which eventually led to her detainment in the tower of London despite her claim of innocence. Throughout her reign Elizabeth faced a number of incidents of opposition from catholics and the Roman Catholic Church, though her attitude was one of pragmatic compromise in many aspects of religion. These parallels are loose but notable in their broad brushstrokes. 

Original Amidala sketch by Iain McCaig for The Phantom Menace

When designing Amidala for The Phantom Menace, McCaig was working through a ‘Space Nouveau’ aesthetic, borrowing elements from the works of Mucha, the Pre-Raphaelites and retro-futuristic romance of the first half of the twentieth century. Technology and nature in harmony. This design, when stripped back for animation to be practical, emphasised those now notably familiar Star Wars lines that borrow from Japanese fashions, whilst still retaining the Romantic aspects. the shapes of Satine’s headpiece echoes the increasingly elaborate ruffs and wired collarettes that grew exponentially throughout the fashions of the sixteenth century. The headpiece and gown are also heavy with symbolism: shell earrings and embellishments, the repeating petal shapes in her sleeves, skirts and tabbards as well as the literal lillies woven into her hair and headpiece loudly communicating her pacifism. She is visually placing herself within her own principles for all to see, decrying the past violence of her people, and the relative simplicity of this costume despite its ceremony (block colours and controlled embellishment - though the fabrics are clearly indicated to be silks) saves her message from being drowned out. These symbolic embellishments have been a popular aspect portraiture for centuries to communicate and sway power and impressions, in portraits of Elizabeth I the symbolic choices appear in their multitudes from props to tiny embellishements to the very styling of her hair. In the famed Rainbow Portrait (below) of Elizabeth I - a fantasy portrait painted late in her reign, but depicting a young newly crowned queen dressed for masque - embroidered eyes and ears show that she is a queen that Sees and Hears all. A queen in absolute control of her land. 

L & C: McCaig’s design reworked and streamlined by Killian Plunkett to work both within The Clone Wars aesthetic and for the character. This is a great example of concept recycling and adaptation for character, as when this design was originally selected as a base design for Satine, it wasn’t known that she would be quite so active and ‘dynamic’ as she ended up in the episodes. [X] R: The Rainbow Portrait, 1600-02, attributed to Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger. 

This organic silhouette at odds with the old is also visible in Satine’s landscape. Mandalore was designed drawing heavily from the Cubist movement in the most literal way. Their cities are built inside cubes within their destroyed environment. Sharp angles occur in everything from buildings, hair, food and ice cubes, floor texturing. Interspersed throughout are the diamond shapes and lines of Mandalorian armour, shifting into an Art Deco boundary between the Cubist harshness and Satine’s Nouveau romance. This mid-design point means that Satine is not entirely in opposition with her environment - her world and her people. These diamond shapes are present in the cut of her open oversleeves. She visually acknowledges Mandalore’s history whilst representing the new. (Equally, this could be seen in that her costume - despite it’s ceremony - holds little impediment to action and self-defence when necessary.)

The main plaza on Mandalore, clearly showing the Cubist influenced design, complete with detailed mural depicting the war with the jedi, and repeating diamond shapes.

Satine’s next notable costume looks a lot like she just walked out of an ‘80′s fantasy film and it is fantastic. The romance is heavy in this look with the long, soft lines and the muted pinks, particularly as she and Obi-Wan investigate the Death Watch on the industrial Concordia. She wears a shortened surcoat that mimics the cut of a man’s doublet, a fashion that was favoured throughout the sixteenth century, and appeared in both French and Italian fashions (Italian styles fell out of favour in much of Europe in the latter half of the century as Spain became increasingly influential.) This fashion has appeared, heavily embellished, in a number of portraits of Elizabeth I, reflective of her dichotomy as woman and sovereign, as expressed in her famous address at Tilbury, 

I know I have the body of a weak, feeble woman; but I have the heart and stomach of a king 

Satine’s ‘80′s adventuring costume.

The harsh cutaway style of Satine’s surcoat also mimics late eighteenth century frock coats and equestrian fashions, clearly communicating to the audience that is Time For Adventure! even whilst calling back to the late Tudor fashion for skirts cut to reveal heavily embroidered petticoats. Again, echoes of those Mandalorian armour diamonds are introduced in this cut, whilst organic elements are retained in shell detailing and the floral line of her chemise. Satine, too, must address her dichotomy of being in her very appearance.

L: Portrait of Mary Stuart (aka Mary Queen of Scots), c. 1559, Francois Clouet. R: Portrait of a Noblewoman, c. 1580, Lavinia Fontana. Mary Stuart is shown in a French doublet-styled bodice, whilst Fontana’s portrait is in the Italian giuppone style. The possibility of a Mary Stuart influence in Satine feels particularly apt given their mutual martyrdom. Mary, a devout Catholic who also lived a tumultuous life at odds with her country, was executed by Elizabeth for her movements to depose the heretical English queen. 

Satine’s final costume - in both its forms - is by far her most interesting and most historical. Its basic silhouette is a slimmed down take on the late Tudor/early Elizabethan bell shaped gown using the verdugle, or Spanish farthingale. As I mentioned above styles were influenced by politics, and the Spanish styles were favoured from the marriage of Katharine of Aragon to Henry VIII until late in Elizabeth I’s reign, when French fashions were favoured due to threatening war with Spain. (Anne Boleyn was known to have been bold in her favouring of French fashions as a couriter in the time of Katharine of Aragon, though styes were generally mixed.) Obviously Satine is not wearing a farthingale - it would be impractical, and her gown is later stripped away. But this is a politically influence shift in style: the symbolism in dress is stripped away, the flamboyance is gone. I have joked in private that maybe Satine borrowed the Naboo royal dressmaker, but there is little doubt that her ceremonial costume was designed with an eye to the wider galactic stage and what would be recognised as regal garb. This is a much stricter silhouette - upright, austere though still richly (but subtly) embellished. It is a design turned inward. Those Cubist elements are creeping into the lines of her skirt as she is taking a stand for her people and for New Mandalore.

L: Duchess Satine Kryze in Shades of Reason. C: Elizabeth I when a princess, c. 1546, attributed to William Scrots. This early fashion for oversleeves is also evident in Satine’s first ceremonial costume, as is the split skirt. R: A Young Lady Aged 21, Possibly Helena Snakenborg, Later Marchioness of Northampton, 1569, the British School (a personal favourite.) Here you can see shoulder rolls and the broad neckline with delicate open infill. 

Again, we are seeing a dichotomy between the feminine and masculine, her sleeves and stand neck calling back to those borrowed from the pourpoint doublet, the sleeves studded and bracciali, shoulder rolls, taking on the look of armoured pauldrons. The broad neckline introducing that diamond shape yet again and placing it directly against petal shapes of the stiff stand collar mimicking the guimpe, typically soft infill, now strengthened and yet vulnerable and exposed. Satine is strong in her beliefs, but the ground beneath her feet is vanishing rapidly. 

As this arc progresses, the costume is ripped, stripped away and softened. Embellishment - such as her jewels and belt - are removed, her hair is loose, her skirt shortened. It is here that those Cubist elements become even more apparent in the front tabbard-like section of her skirt, echoing the split-skirt Tudor fashion. Interestingly, these stylistic elements were favoured by Elizabeth when she was young, unstable in her position as princess and then, later, queen. 

Satine Kryze, deposed, imprisoned and the worse for wear.

It is relevant to notice at this point Satine’s colour palette. Her main colour is blue - particularly this deep prussiany blue - feminine whilst also strong. The colour of Mandalore. She and her people are not part of the war, but at this point she is caught - personally - between the personal vendettas of Maul and Obi-Wan, both of whom are sliding into bloody reds and browns. She is the middle ground, trapped. Pinks and reds emerge in her costumes at various points when she is knowingly heading into danger, the pinks of her Adventuring costume, the red of Coruscant costume when she is on the run in The Duchess of Mandalore. Satine’s primary ceremonial gown has elements of purple and greens - she is in power, and in control. A ruler in her prime. But in this final arc she is blue and stripped of everything but her principles, and yet perhaps at her most Mandalorian? Considering Padme’s watery funeral gown, it appears that blue is the colour of martyrdom. 

Next Time: The path unfollowed: the heroics of Padme & Leia

Last time: Darth Maul and the fashion of Nemesis - Part II

anonymous asked:


alright let’s do this:

  • as previously mentioned, if you can afford to buy your own condoms, hit up those trojan ultrathins. if you can’t, the university condoms are fine they just feel different
  • never take the room for sex for longer than two hours
  • don’t take the room from your roommate more than once a week if you’re going to do it often. Make some kind of agreement with your roommate, talk about it, make sure there’s no problem there
  • if your bed is lofted, make a big old blanket nest on your floor. Extra pillows, blankets, etc. should probably be used on this
  • astroglide is the best lube available ever. cheap, effective, feels like heaven
  • if you’re gonna shave your pussy use conditioner to do it. It’ll give you a better shave and it will feel better. be careful not to get it inside you though
  • neosporin on cuts on your bikini line when you’re shaving your pubes. aloe vera jelly works as a good moisturizer too. doesn’t sting like perfumed lotions do
  • use a sharp, new blade as often as you can when you’re shaving your pubes
  • toothpaste can help get rid of hickeys
  • everyone in a dorm can hear EVERYTHING so try not to be too loud
  • careful about the open windows too
  • cute undies will make you feel cute whether people see them or not
  • STD testing can be done at most student health centers and is a MUST if you’re having casual or semi-casual sex
  • always text your roommate if you about to fuck
  • little perfume or scented moisturizer between your thighs or on your hip is always cute

I live two lives. The first, as Oliver Queen, may seem enviable, as i hover over everyone in my penthouse apartment, my top-floor office, golden cubes of light higher than fear or danger can reach. But with every passing days that world feels less comfortable, and that man–the playbloy, the CEO of Queen Industries–, feels like more of an obnoxious stranger. I prefer the company of the streets. I prefer the description of social justice warrior.

Resurrect Paradise - Harry Smut (Request)

While Harry mingled, since he knew practically everyone or everyone, at least, wanted to know him, you took to the dance floor with a handful of girls you had met before and let loose to Kap Slap’s mixes. You could remember how timid you once were when Harry would bring you along to the exclusive clubs with him. He never put any pressure on you to behave or look any certain way since they weren’t really his scene and he didn’t care about the small things like that, so you would go criminally underdressed and just keep to yourself, acting to Harry as something of a shadow in the dark, keeping behind him or with your hand in his. He teased you tonight that you were practically a nightclub veteran when he checked on you in the bedroom, shimming into a black lace number that barely met your knees, red from resting on them earlier and relaxing Harry post- afternoon workout.

No one would mistake you for Mrs. Cocky, but you felt really good about yourself tonight. Confidence was pumping through you as you swung your hips carelessly back and forth like the hand of a grandfather clock, your hair being tossed around like the mane of a lion. You knew you looked good and it made you feel good, the combination beyond powerful.

“Someone’s having fun…” Over the sound of the DJ’s track, Louis appeared with two drinks in his hand, yelling words he would otherwise mutter.

“Huh?” You leaned in with your ear, shouting back.

“Here. Harry got this for you.” Louis bypassed his comment and lowered his attention to the glass in his right hand over the beer bottle in his left, handing it to you slowly and trying to keep it from being knocked away by any number of the dancing bodies around him.

Smiling as if to say ‘thank you’, you took the drink and brought it directly to your lips, the smell of your favorite concoction attacking your senses before you took your first sip.

“You look like you’re having the time of your life.” Louis yapped over the long neck of his bottle, but you just shook your head, you truly couldn’t hear him. “Do you want to go somewhere we can talk?” He used his bare hand to help with his question, pantomiming moving mouths with it and pointing to his lips and ears a couple times. You were pretty sure you understood him and nodded, letting him lead the way off the huge dance floor. As the crowd thickened, some arms reaching through to catch Louis’s attention, he reached behind himself to grab a hold of you by the wrist and bring you through unscathed. It was unbeknownst to either of you that there was another pair of eyes, watching closely, up on the balcony. Eyes that would know your head of hair absolutely anywhere.

Louis was all about fun. He was a caricature of life on a good day and just your run-of-the-mill jokester on a sour one, but he never quite understood the hype of the club scene. He wondered if it stemmed from always having so much responsibilities on him when he was younger or, quite possibly, they just weren’t his tea and toast. So, he only came out when he promised to support someone (like tonight) or when he was being paid to be there. Once you two were in the clear, you leaned against the velvet wall, grinning as bright as Northern stars, and sipping the rest of your drink.

“I was saying, you look like you’re having the time of your life out there.” Louis still had to raise his voice, but he could finally cease shouting.

“Oh?” You laughed at the comment and watched him nurse his beer across from you, looking painfully bored for the most part. It was so clear that he didn’t want to be there. “We need to get you out there dancing. You look like you would rather be anywhere else in the world!”

“I would.” Dryly, he confirmed.

“Well, where would you go?” You imagined that in just a few minutes, he probably would be leaving. One of your lace clad arms wrapped over your waist, you watched Louis’s blue eyes roam around the room and check out the bodies coming and going as he thought about where he would ideally be if he wasn’t at the club.

“I don’t know.” He fancied himself easy going. “We could go and hang out of the bus, eat pizza and listen to music?” After a little searching, he looked back at you with his most absentminded smile. Louis parted his lips around the bottle again and polished it off, his eyes still on your body as he drank.

“We?” You asked him where he would go. As he already stated, you were having an awesome time.

“Yeah, it’s been a while since just you and I hung out.” Before you and Harry decided to be a monogamous duo, you and Louis were thick as thieves and spending an awful lot of time together. Of course, you two still hung out, but Harry was rarely not there or you were always talking about your boyfriend.  

“We could do a run tomorrow or something…” Off the top of your head, you suggested, not sure if you and Louis had ever gone for a run together before or worked out with one another.

Louis was looking for somewhere to rest his bottle in the long hallway with very dim lights when, a body squeezed between you two, a musk that Harry carried bringing you both to the realization that you were no longer along like Louis liked.

“Louis doesn’t run.” Casually, Harry shook his hair, held back in one of his many silk scarves.

“I could run.” Rolling his eyes behind one of his best mates, Louis muttered.

“We have to run, though.” Harry’s hand linked into yours, grabbing it like a stolen good in a grocery store, and began to pull you away from the wall and Louis all together. He was drunk, but he didn’t look as loopy and high on life as he usually did after too many drinks.

As you were being escorted away, back down the hall to the loud dance floor, you turned slightly to wave a silly goodbye to Louis, but he was already talking to someone who had excitedly followed Harry down and posing for a selfie with them.

“I ask him to bring you one drink and….” Harry’s voice trailed off, buried under bass lines and 808s.

“What?” You shouted before Harry pulled you so close to him so closely that your drink fell to the floor below, spilling ice cubes everywhere. Looking up from his clavicle where your face had collided, you moved your hair out of the way stared up at him with bewildered eyes. His own gaze was subdued, focused on you like his mind was full of mischief. He had one hand tracing down your hip, over your toned ass, while the other led you closer to his own leg by taking your hand and guiding you.

Naturally, you danced against Harry, his leg balance for your thighs as you grinded from side to side, throwing your hair back because you knew it was a visual that turned him on. He was already focused on working the two of you up though. He knew it was petty, but your friendship with Louis was menacing for him. It taunted him like a school yard bully and he felt like he needed to remind you that you had chosen him and not his blue eyed friend after he watched Louis lead you through the crowd earlier. His hand tightly grabbed at your rear while he slid his other up your exposed thigh, your dress riding high as you were on his leg, and felt underneath the hem with the tip of his middle finger. “No panties?” Leaning forward, sealing the small space between your chests, Harry cooed in your ears with his most devious Mona Lisa smile. Coyly, you smiled back in place of a verbal response. “Evill woman…” He whispered, his breath warm over your ear before he took the lobe between his front teeth and nibbled on it, sending goose bumps up your spine that had been producing sweat beads. The mix of sensations wet your pussy before he could properly touch it. Your body was involuntarily elastic against Harry, pushing back and forth as he touched you, your knees wobbling over his hand leg and your head falling back just to be brought up by his mouth again.

 “Keep your eyes open.” He whispered in your ear before giving it one last nibble. It was harder than you thought it would be especially with the ecstasy you felt between a sea of bones, dancing to loud music, and feeling your boyfriend holding you as if letting go would cause him physical agony. He parted your lips under your lacy frock with all of his fingers before beginning his search inside with just one, allowing both knuckles in due to how wet you had already become. He knew your sweet spots like Peter Pan knew the map of Neverland. He had followed the second star to the right and was now visiting his favorite spot, your mermaid lagoon.

“Show me how much you love to dance, baby, show me.” He rested his flushed cheek against your own, sweat slid over both your faces like a protective layer, as he kept circling his middle finger inside you, his outside knuckles pushing up against your sensitive spot. The song grew into one you knew, one you loved, and you held Harry’s hard stare while bouncing on his hand, dancing with your hips smoothly going back and forth and your arms reaching up above your head as you let out a high moan. It was all Harry could do, he laughed at the visual he was creating for himself, watching you smile as your eyes broke down and closed and then he took a gander at his arm, following it to where his hand was buried under the thin piece of your dress and working on you down below. He reached forward, taking his other hand off of your side and pulled down your dress so your pussy wasn’t revealed to the club. He let his index finger join his middle inside you and felt you shake up against him, your body leaning over his chest as you started to suck on his neck. You needed to do something with your mouth in order to conceal any and all screams.  You always had been a screamer when it came to Harry. “Remember how fucking good this feels next time Louis touches you, okay?” His teeth were tight together, but you heard the words more than you felt the music as he lowered his head over yours, feeling your breath ragged and hot on his neck as you came for the third and final time, his fingers slowly leaving your soaked region. He cleaned them off in front of you just like your juice was hot sauce on a chicken wing while his clean hand fixed your dress over your completely.  “I have to go say ‘hi’ to a couple people. You know where your girls are?” As if he hadn’t just finger fucked you into a state of bliss, Harry asked. 


Breathing, chest rising and falling smoothly pressing against the cold floor as she slowly adjusted to the situation she was held in. Another night, another day and her throat felt dry. Whatever they had knocked her out with certainly did the trick. Technically she had been sleeping for two days straight and awakening up to something unexpected. Another night of something so horrifying, she didn’t know how much more she could take of this. This had all started when the other side fell through and the dead came pouring back in huge amounts to the living. The kill rise on high, bloodshed covered the streets and yet even when things could be remotely normal, something like happened. That incredibly wicked mind that set traps and placed people in there, turning humans into meat, into blood bags and placed like pigs right in the middle.  The werewolves having a type of trigger set in their mind that even if they were friends they would go after the other like cat and mouse…only the mouse would be more than just shredded. A game, that went too far, but this type of game just like each and every other game he started was just getting much more worse than the last. This time though instead of Elena being outside of the box, arena, whatever this was. This time she was dragged into it and she only dreaded what was going to happen the moment she opened her eyes. That dreading moment, the moment of realisation that was going to happen, what the terrors held beyond the walls of where she was at and yet she didn’t open her eyes because of that exact reason. Elena had been drugged, she had been beaten to the point she found it hard to breathe and the struggle was going to happen from then on and it wasn’t just going to stop there.

Slowly her eyes began to open, even just a crack and the look of the floor, the wall in-front of her as her body lay on it’s side, her arms  flopped lightly, “euhh…” she began to grumble as she shifts in place as her dark hues finally opened fully, her vision adjusting to her surroundings as she presses her palm against the hard floor. Lifting herself up she rubbed her eyes with the back of one hand as she stared at the clock hanging on the wall. The arms on eight exactly as she blinked and looked behind her, slowly she moved onto her knees and weakly, wobbling as she stood up moving towards the wall and holding on. In one part of the room there was a door. The middle was a rug which is where she lay and above was glass. At the other side of the room was the clock and three chairs in a line, the room white. The thick smell of paint still hung in the air, no windows. Rubbing her tongue along her dry lips she stared around as she clung herself towards the wall, her body shifting along it as she moved towards the door. “This couldn’t be a trap could it?” words slipping her dry and chapped lips as she tried to gulp down the bit of spit she had left, or seemed like it. Throat dry and burning, and although she found it hard to breathe she hadn’t noticed the blood soaking through her shirt from an open wound. Too frightened, too scared, her body was shaking because she knew what this was. What was going to happen, this had to be the trick of the Mayor, this had to be something that had to do with him. This time of the month, this time, and she couldn’t figure out what it was, what he had in store for her and who else that might be here. “Hello?” she called out, mentally scolding herself that she was stupid for shouting in an empty room. Though shuffling was heard from beneath her. Staring down at the ground the words were muttered through the floor boards from what seemed like a flat floor. There was something under there. Staring down she moved back onto her knees, her hands sprawling across the hard floor once more as she felt around for something, an edge. “Hello? whose down there?” she called but there was no answer, heavy breathing, that almost matched the way her heart raced.

As she felt around she began to slowly pull up the rug, after realising that one end was lifting she began to drag it back in a much quicker movement, pulling it back to the opposite end but what caught her gaze shocked her. Another glass floor underneath, a small cube that fitted this poor soul in, scrunched up in a box with razer edges, the person inside shaking, cuts all over there body as her eyes grew wide once she had noticed Elena looking at her. “H…He…Help… m…mee” she began to speak as Elena pressed against the glass “Sh..it’s okay. I’ll find a way to get you out of here” but the moment she said those words the cube dropped and the floor disappeared beneath her. Elena scrambled back as she pushes her converse into the ground moving back against the wall. The loud screams from the girl came to stop as Elena stood up and backed towards the now open door. Falling back through it she landed on the ground shaking with fear, her hands coiling around herself as she stared at the room she had just been in. There was no chance that the woman had survived, the room had completely fallen through now and all that left was the open door, but who opened the door in the first place? she hadn’t even noticed. TAP , TAP , TAP the sound of footsteps could be heard behind her, making her jolt forward onto her hands and knees then onto her feet. Quickly she stood as she stared in the direction, afraid of what was to come as she began to walk backwards. Moving swiftly along the wall her back pressed ass another door that was open came into view. A loud gasp came from her as she pulled her hand upto her face in horror from what was inside.

“Where am I?” she shook as she looked at the woman, impaled on a large stake that had shot through the ground through a chair impaling her through her rear and right up her throat as she remain perched on it. Elena tore her eyes quickly, vomit coursing through her throat as she bent over spitting it out onto the ground, her back hurling and curling forward as she leaned on her stomach “oh my god” she cried as tears weld in her eyes as she moves her hand in front of her mouth brushing her lips. Breathing heavily she looked ahead and walked past the room but screams caught her in her steps, she was afraid to even see what was next, the cries were shrieking through the walls as she came to another large room that seemed like a living room area. One large round table in the middle and seats surrounding with a tv screen up on the wall. Standing staring at it, she felt her heart thudding. The feeling like it was about to burst right out of her ribcage making her breathing that much quicker. CRASH, a door came flying open followed by a dark woman with dreadlocks, hanging down the front of her frame, her hand moving up as she shield one eye. Blood streaming down her face and off her chin as she stared at Elena “Are you…are you okay?” she asked, afraid that the woman’s head might explode or something that might happen directly in front of her. The woman didn’t talk but removed her hand from her eye, shocking Elena immediately as she backed away, looking away from the woman it had seemed like she had gouged her own eye out. “I did this, I did this to survive” the woman spoke deeply, her eye held in her hand that she had been shielding “I’m trying to put it back in..” Elena’s eyes widened as she let out a sound, now looking at the woman “Can…can you do that?” she exclaimed, the woman nodded, a sly smirk slowly appearing across her lips a deranged look about her “this is only the beginning Elena”. The moment she spoke her name, her heart raced and she wanted to get out of there, there was no doors around just this woman and her, with no clue what to do, what to fight with, everything remain in place as part of this puzzle and what it seemed now. Elena was part of it.

a mother's love

ok ok ok, this is supposed to be a birthday gift for cacatuasulphureacitrinocristata (c/p-ed that, ngl). So happy birthday, love! I’m really glad we met, and I hope you’ll like this!

“Mama! Mama, up, up!”

Glancing downwards, feeling the slight tugging on the bottom of her skirt, Yoshino smiled at the sight of her toddler son, asking for attention. He had been particularly good today about being quiet and, even though silence was nice, it was getting a bit heavy. She wasn’t used to the lack of noises anymore, always aware of the surroundings and possible bonks and crashs that would indicate a soon crying child.

“Yes, dear?” she said, before bending down to pick her son up, as he already had thrown his little hands towards her. “Mama’s cooking, kiddo. Dinner, for when Dada comes home.”

“Dada?” his little voice asked. “Dada?”

“Yes, Dada. He should be home soon.”

Apparently, the answer satisfied Shikamaru, since he smiled with his newly acquired teeth — what a pain they were to grow out, the kid hadn’t stopped crying — before letting his head fall on his mom’s shoulder. With a small amused smile, keeping him against her and completely forgetting about the still uncut carrot on her cutting board, she kissed his temple softly.

“Is it time for a nap, my love? You only got your morning one today. What about we lay you down until your father comes home?”

The toddler didn’t seem to appreciate the idea a lot, as he frowned, grasping and clenching to Yoshino’s apron. She chuckled, before shifting him onto a more comfortable position in her arms, where he settled back almost immediately.

“No nap.” he grumbled in his baby sleepy voice and she knew he needed to sleep, even for a bit. Slowly, she started rocking her body, along with his, to the absent notes of music. He was particularly heavy; which meant it wouldn’t be long before he’d fall asleep on her.

“No nap, but yes sleeping on Mama, huh? You’re your father’s son, that’s for sure.”

Shikamaru let out another grumble, his face nuzzling against the skin of her neck, indicating he was getting to the border between dreams and reality. With another slight smile, followed by a sigh, she carefully proceeded to exit the room, keeping him very steady in her arms so he wouldn’t start waking up, before walking into his.

“Nap time, kiddo.” she murmured, more for herself than for the now asleep child in her arms. With gentleness she didn’t know she had until she held him for the first time, Yoshino put down her son in his own bed, before he rolled on his side, as if he never tried to avoid napping. Covering him up and placing his favorite stuffed animal between his little fists, she stayed, looking at him, hearing his calmed down breathing.

He was such a gift. A present Gods she wasn’t sure existed had put on Earth for her to take care of, an angel she was supposed to raise and help open its wings. Every time — every. single. time. —, she would stop for a second, watch him toddle around, play with his favorite toys, sleep in his bed and wonder what good she had done to the world to be granted with him.

She didn’t know if she was being a good mother. After all, she had grown up only to her father’s care. She remembered the late night worries when she learned about the baby growing inside of her. Fragile, tiny life she wasn’t sure she was ready to welcome, small beating heart she needed to protect. Many mistakes would be done — many already made, probably —, but she knew that he’d forgive her, even if she didn’t.

Letting her fingers linger on his chubby cheek, she bent down, kissing his forehead. He didn’t react much except from his little body rolling again, hiding his face away. She smiled, before straightening up.

“Sleep well, baby boy.”


“Ma? Ma, I want up.”

She didn’t feel the tugging just as much, since he was much more steady on his feet and didn’t need to clench onto her skirt to keep his balance. Though, she could feel his head against her thigh — he was still too short to reach her hip. With a smile, a loving one but a bit more tired, she looked down to him.

“What’s wrong, love? You might be getting a little big for me to pick you up, you know.”


The very well-known gesture of his hands thrown up towards her made her give up. Bending down, she placed her hands beneath his armpits and — oh, he was much heavier now — brought him towards her chest. Still manageable, she mused, but she wasn’t going to be able to hug him as tight, as close, for much longer. As usual, his head found its place on her shoulder, his arms almost carelessly thrown around her neck.

The same grumble, the same way of searching for her warmth — yes, those didn’t change. She doubted they’ll ever will, she didn’t want them to change. Precious memories, small remembrances of how small he used to be, how easy it was for him to fit between her arms, how his giggles, unexpected, would brighten the day.

“When is dad coming home?”

“Soon, kiddo.”

Even the same exact way to grasp onto her apron, twisting its fabric between the tiny hands, before nuzzling his face closer to her neck. A warm feeling — nostalgia? — invaded her and she hugged him tighter, pressing her cheek against his head, completely forgetting about getting dinner started. They didn’t hug like that much more; he was getting too big, too old for getting affection so directly from his mother, at least in his opinion. But the way he didn’t climb back down when she tightened his hold showed her he wasn’t always sure he didn’t want those hugs anymore. Slowly, her body started rocking back and forth, to the same melody she often seemed to hear every time she’d held him.

Shikamaru didn’t move, his legs and arms still around his mother, without showing any signs of wanting to get out of their embrace. Even though he had grown up, he still was her little boy; nothing would change that. Not time, not age, not the usual mom-don’t-hug-me-i’m-six speech.

She silently wished she could have kept him pocket-sized.

Dinner wasn’t started when Shikaku came home; instead, he found his wife cuddling with their son on the sofa. And he joined, despite the young boy’s horrification — my dad doesn’t cuddle, who are you? —.




This time, she isn’t the one throwing arms around him or bringing him to her chest but he is. The gesture is gentle, just like she was when he was younger. It’s surprising; so surprising she, at first, doesn’t know how to react. He’s much older, much, much older. Married. With a son. He isn’t a baby anymore, but he’s still her boy. With a small smile, her arms answer the embrace, her chin barely making it onto his shoulder.

But he does just the same as he used to; his head finds its place on her shoulder, nuzzling into her neck, his warm breathing tickling the skin. She asks herself if he, too, misses those days sometimes, the ones where she was carrying around, where he wasn’t big enough to grab things in the kitchen’s cabinets. Those days where they used to play, on the living-room’s floor, with alphabetical cubes he already knew the letters from, reading those children’s books that would have him frowning at the ending’s logic. Why does the prince marry the princess, already?

She knows she isn’t going to be here much longer and she can hear the clock — tick tack — trying to break their moment. But if there’s something time can’t change, can’t touch, it’s the way she loves him, with every part, every atom of herself. It’s the way she can see the man she calls her soulmate in his features, holding pride into their similarities but even more in their differences. It’s the way she loves him for who he is, not for who he wishes he was.

There’s nothing stronger than a mother’s love. Not time, not age, not mom-don’t-hug-me-i’m-forty-five speeches.

janisilverstorm  asked:

Any of Dean's birthdays pre-series. Angsty, bittersweet or adorable, your choice. (Or, you know, you don't have to at all. Just an idea.)

Dean raises his arms and makes a sound of anticipation as John kneels beside him and grabs him. The ground vanishes from beneath Dean’s feet and for a moment, he’s flying: a quiet, timid giggle leaves him before he attaches firmly onto his father’s shirt. John lets out a sigh - he’s tired again.

“You should sleep sometime, Daddy.”

“I should, shouldn’t I.”

John’s fingers are big and warm as they enter Dean’s trimmed hair, and they brush through, rubbing gently into his scalp as they pass. He’s so big and so firm and so warm and safe, and Dean doesn’t want to let go; on the floor, Sammy’s making noise. He’s battering the floor with a toy cube in his hands and shrieking excitedly, and Dean looks down at him thoughtfully.

“What’s he doing?” he asks, finger slipping between his lips.
He digs at the edge of his tooth and sucks the fingertip before letting his hand down; he hooks it back into John’s shirt.

“I don’t know. Hey, Sammy. Sammy? What are you doing?”


John gives Dean a conspiratory glance.
“How about we leave Sammy to fix up the room a little, and go look at what I brought you today?”


“It’s a special day for you, kiddo.”

Dean’s shy smile widens a little. He clutches John’s shirt harder and nuzzles against his chest.
“Is it something good?” he asks, a little nervous.

“What do you think it is?”

Dean puffs and hides his face into John.
“I don’t know,” he mumbles, grinning, and dares to peek a little when they go down, down and down all the way to the floor where the mysterious box sits idly.
“Is it in the box?”

“Yep,” John tells him, moving his butt onto his other arm and picking up the box with his free hand. They turn around and the world wooshes away around Dean again as they go up: the floor’s far down, but he’s not scared. John will keep him safe.

He rides on John’s arm to the table, and there, the box gets lowered onto it and he gets lowered into a chair: he leans forwards and grabs the box, slides his small fingers over the top and breathes a little heavily with anticipation. He looks at his father and bites at his lip.

“What is it?” he asks.

“Open it,” John chuckles and sits next to him.
He drags his chair closer and brings his arm around Dean as Dean starts pulling off the top of the box.

Inside sits a freshly baked apple pie - and it’s got text on it, but Dean can’t read it. He reaches inside the box and picks up the pie: with John’s help, they place it on the table next to the box.

“What’s it say?” Dean asks, daring to smile again, and John smiles right back at him, widely, lovingly, and all is well in the world.

“Let’s read it together,” John tells him and picks up his hand.

Together, letter by letter, they spell out the text.

“H - A - P - P - Y…. B - I - R - T - H - D…”

Dean draws in a breath.
“I know what it says!” he calls out with held-back excitement.

“Well?” John laughs, pulling him closer so that he’s right there underneath his arm, their chairs touching and Dean’s hand on John’s thigh for balance.

“Happy birthday!”

“Happy birthday to who?”


John laughs again, and he bends down to place a soft, yet rather wet, kiss on Dean’s forehead. He’s got a big mouth - it covers most of Dean’s forehead, or so it feels. Grinning, Dean wipes the stain off.

“Happy birthday, Dean,” John tells him, looking him in the eye, “I’m really glad that I’ve got you.”

S2 to S4 - Simply Styling Cube Walls & Floors

Tapete und Teppich für Kinder!

Im Original aus S2 von Simply Styling - Danke für die Erlaubnis!

(Leider ist mir nicht bekannt woher Simply Styling die Texturen hat!)

Die Tapete hat 9 Farboptionen, der Teppich 5


Wallpaper and carpet for Kids!

Original S2 by Simply Styling - Thanks for the permission!

(Unfortunately, I do not know where SimplyString has the textures!)

The wallpaper has 9 color options, the carpet 5


Download: SFS

Closed starter

Edward was lead across his living room floor, doing a rubiks cube in front of his face, last time he’d checked it had been about 1am so he wasn’t all that surprised when night entered his apartment, he briefly lifted his hand from the toy to wave then returned to twisting the sides “to what do i owe the pleasure?” he asks absently

Block shapes! Well instead of programmed block shapes with coded in uv coordinates we now support fbx block shapes. What this does is allow us artists to make our own blocks. They also have the added benefit of rotations, so you can run your floor planks on a cube north and south, or east and west. Plus we can fix all the bad uvs on blocks and make lots more shapes. It also supports smoothing groups so we can have nice smooth shaded pillars and stuff. First thing on my list is to make some nicer stairs! Users should be able to make their own block shapes with any 3d program as well.