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Tears On Our Tongues

The ride home after the woods

A SnowBaz fic for the Carry On Countdown


Simon

When we get back to the car, we both sit in an extremely awkward silence.  Neither of us seems to know what to do.  After all, that was possibly the most pivotal moment of both of our lives.  Where do we go from here.?

           Lips and tears and heat and fire.

           When I turn to nervously look at Baz, he’s staring straight ahead, his jaw set and his brow heavy.  He’s gripping the steering wheel with both hands, but doesn’t make a move to actually start the car.  Rain is beginning to dot the windshield, and I can see my own breath whisper into the air.

           Baz is so tense, like he’s only just fully realizing what has happened.

           Lips and tears and heat and fire.  His lips on mine.

           “Um,” I murmur, breaking the silence, “do you want me to drive?”

           He blinks like he’s snapped out of a daze and takes a breath.  “No,” he says without looking at me, “it’s fine.”  He turns the key in the ignition, and I notice his hands shaking.

           “Baz,” I reach out and touch his arm without thinking. “I’d really prefer if I drove.”

           He doesn’t flinch at my touch like I expect him to.  He just stares at my hand on his skin with an odd expression, like he’s trying to figure out something complicated.  Like he’s thinking how did that get there?

           It’s not looking like he’s going to move, so I open my door and walk around to the driver’s side, and only then does he actually get out of the car.  He doesn’t look at me as he passes, barely brushing me with his coat on the way.

           When we’re both in our seats, I start the car and turn us around, heading back the way we came.  I turn on the heat because it’s freezing in here, but not the music. As much as I want to break the silence, I can’t ignore the fact that this isn’t just the normal we-kissed-what-now kind of awkward.  This is the you-almost-killed-yourself-and-as-a-result-we-kissed kind of awkward, which is slightly heavier than the normal awkward.

           Lips and tears and heat and fire.  His lips on mine.  Tears on our tongues.

           I sneak a glance at him.  He gazes at the window.  Not out, just at.  

           “You okay?”  I know it’s a stupid question, of course he’s not, but I have to ask.

           He shrugs and very slightly shakes his head.

           “I know it sounds dumb,” I say quietly, “but it’ll be alright.  You’ll be okay.”

           He doesn’t look at me.  I’m starting to wonder if he ever will again.

Baz

I nearly killed us. I nearly sent us both up in flames and then had him against a tree snogging the life out of him.  And here he is asking if I’m okay.

           Point for him though, because I’m not.  Of course not.

           Lips and tears and heat and fire.  His lips on mine.  Tears on our tongues.  His mouth, so full of heat.

           I’m not okay, and now I’ve let him see in graphic detail exactly how not-okay I am.  I could not have made myself more vulnerable in front of him, and the thought makes me want to curl into a ball, erase the whole thing, make it never happen.

           Except for the kissing.  That part can stay.

           Even though I have no idea if he meant it.  It might have been a final attempt to pull me out of my suicidal funk.  Even the kisses after the fire was out were probably just pity kisses, albeit very desperate pity kisses.

           “Baz,” he says quietly, and I feel him glance at me, “how long… um, how long had you wanted… that?”

           “Forever.”  It comes out without a thought.

           “Oh.”

           “Since fifth year.”  Both are true.

           Simon thinks for a moment.  “Why didn’t you say anything?”

           “You had enough reason to hate me.”

           “I don’t hate you.”

           “You did.”

           “I always thought you hated me.”

           “I did,” I nod, “until I loved you.”  His head whips to face me and I scrunch my eyes shut.  I can’t believe I just said that.  “Until I didn’t hate you anymore,” I try to fix it, but I know it’s too late.  It’s out, it’s in the air between us, and it’s going to stay there forever, taunting me with how he’ll never say it back.

           “Baz -”

           “Please,” I grit through my teeth, a tear squeezing out of my eye, “I can’t.”  The tear makes its way down my cheek until it drips into my mouth, and the taste is like Simon.  I will probably forever associate the taste of tears with kissing Simon.

           “Okay,” he whispers, and we’re quiet for the rest of the drive.  I try to keep my sobs silent, but I’m sure he’s hearing them,

           I could have killed him.  If he’d died, it would have been my fault.

           Tears on our tongues.

           When we finally pull into my driveway, I climb out of the car as soon as we’ve stopped.  I hear him call after me, but I don’t pause.  I slam the car door and start stalking towards the house.  It’s so over for me.  I thought I was ready to die in the woods?  I hadn’t been kissed by the boy I love who will never love me. How am I supposed to live with that?

           His footsteps on the driveway are quick like he’s running after me.  I keep moving, tears blurring my vision.

           He catches up to me at the doorstep, throwing himself between me and the door, blocking my entry.

           “Get out of the way, Snow,” I mutter, looking down. We’re under the porch light now, he’ll be able to see what a mess I am, and I can’t look at his expression.

           “Baz, please.”

           “Please what?” I snap.  “What do you want?”

           I make the mistake of glancing at his face and I find tears running down his cheeks.

           “I want you to know that you’ll be okay,” he sobs, “and that I want you to be okay.”

           “I nearly killed you, Snow,” I say, shuddering, “how can you possibly want me to be okay?”

           Lips and tears and heat and fire.  His lips on mine.  Tears on our tongues.  His mouth, so full of heat.  Flames licking at my vision.

           “You wouldn’t have,” he shakes his head, “you were going to spell me away, and for some reason, that’s more upsetting than if you’d tried to kill both of us.”

           “What makes you think I would have saved you?”

           “It was in your eyes.”

           Right now his eyes are full of something I don’t recognize.

           He takes my hand tentatively.  “I need you to know something,” he tells me through his sobs, “because you probably think that it was a sympathy kiss.”

           That’s exactly what I’m thinking.

           “Please never think that.  Never think that the first kiss, or any kisses after that were out of sympathy.  I kissed you because I wanted to, a lot more than I realized.”  He sniffles, his eyes pleading.  “I’d kiss you again right now, and tomorrow morning, and every day after that and none of it would be out of sympathy, and I need you to understand that.”

           I’m shaking like a leaf.  Because I’m tense, because I’m cold, because I’m in some kind of shock, because of Simon’s words.

           “You’d kiss me again?” I choke, unable to believe what I’m hearing.

           He goes pink and he’s smiling and crying and laughing all at once, and I finally recognize what’s in his eyes because it’s exactly the same thing as what’s in mine.

           He doesn’t answer with words.  He stands on tiptoe and takes me by the lapels of my ruined suit, pressing his mouth into mine and it fits like we’ve been doing this forever, like it’s second nature.  His lips taste like tears again and I’m certain that the taste of tears will always be bittersweet to me now, a reminder that no matter how bad it gets, Simon Snow kissed me because he wanted to.

           And he would again.  He is right now.

           And he would tomorrow morning, and every day after that.

anonymous asked:

Are there any birds that eat humans? Where can they be found, and by hat are some things I should know?

Well, not to rain on your parade, but the the first and most important thing you need to know on this subject is that there are no birds that primarily predate on humans. 

We’re very big, very heavy, are very relatively good at defending ourselves, and have a tendency to hang out in groups. Not only that, but we have the audacity to cover most of our vulnerable points with stuff, and we’ve built these extremely non-bird-friendly zones in which we like to live. How unconscionably rude of us, amirite? 

Golden eagles have been recorded taking down sika deer and other medium-sized ungulates, and African crowned eagles have been known to attack children, so there is no question that large birds of prey could kill a human. Carrion birds and scavengers would undoubtedly eat bits off of an already-dead human (sky burials are a good example), but, again, we are not the chosen prey of any extant bird species.

As for extinct birds, even early modern humans were likely preyed upon by strictly non-avian predators. There are Maori oral traditions of the Haast’s Eagle - the females of which could reach up to 15kg (compared to the largest wild birds of prey now at ~9kg) - that state that they “seized and carried off men, women, and children”. However, while they were large enough to hunt their chosen prey, the (also extinct) moa, carrying off adult humans was likely outside of their capabilities

So, tl;dr: humans are really annoying to eat. 0/10, would not recommend.

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Pudding meets Mummy!Goth comic…

Oh anon…

You have no idea how long I waited you….

Next

Pudding and Mummy!Goth me…

Original Fell!Palette belongs to angexci

Original Goth belongs to nekophy

don’t you just hate how you have to ask permission to go to the restroom

like, it’s something you have to do, you shouldn’t need permission

a guy in my school asked to go to the restroom, the teacher told him no, and he was just like “fine” and LITERALLY PISSED IN HIS DESK IN THE MIDDLE OF COMPUTER CLASS

afterwards he was like “nevermind, i don’t have to go anymore” and was suspended

ladies and gentlemen, my school 👏🏻👏🏻

anonymous asked:

Do you think that before Flynn stole the mothership he tracked Lucy down at all? I'm sure he would have been curious about the mysterious professor who wrote his journal-from-the-future. So I can picture him finding her at her university and attending one of her lectures or something. What are your thoughts?

Oh, my god, Anon. My thoughts are I have had these EXACT THOUGHTS!

He DEFINITELY looked her up before the series starts! No doubt. None. Erase all doubt from your mind. We don’t know the degree of it. Maybe Flynn searched online for information about her. Maybe he read one of her books (a history book– not the sad, handwritten one). Maybe, yes, he even sat in the back of at least one lecture. We don’t know how far he went researching her (he’s an intelligence gathering special agent and this could actually be quite in depth– he has her tax returns), but we do know that Flynn looked Lucy up in the present day before setting his plan in motion.

And it all sounds like an interesting little possibility and fan theory, one more connection Flynn and Lucy have before even meeting face to face, but the logical part of our brain is still like, “Proof?”

How about the fact that, in the Pilot, he knew what she looked like? Yeah. Once you realize Flynn picked her out of a frantic crowd at night in front of an explosion, it hits you: “How did he know her face?” Lucy can write her entire life story in that journal. Flynn can know her mind as well as she knows herself. But unless Lucy included a photograph, he would not know her to see her. He’d pass her on the street. Conclusion: either through research or because he staked her out (attended one of her classes), Flynn was familiar with what Lucy looked like prior to meeting her in 1937.

Now, you can argue the above. You could say that one brief, mid-episode snippet is the real first time Flynn sees her. The part when he’s watching the three be arrested after he called in that tip on them.

BUT! he is very, very far away. And he’s not even the one looking through the binoculars when it happens. 

He certainly can’t make out her face. And would he really approach her later with his biggest identifier being that she had on a brown coat? Why would he WANT to leave it up to chance? Why would he risk not knowing what Lucy looks like before going into the past where he knows he’s going to run into her? I really don’t think he would.

Also (just mentioning) Flynn’s guy that Wyatt kills in the hangar knew who Lucy was, and I’m not sure what to make of it. Flynn did brief his men about her though. We know that. Because after realizing who she was (whether because Flynn passed around a picture of her or because he said she’d be the woman following them), the man said, “Flynn wants to talk to you.” So Flynn made certain his men knew who Lucy was and that, if found, she should be brought to him, presumably unharmed.

I really think it makes sense that Flynn looked her up beforehand. It makes more sense than him not doing it. Checking up on Lucy just fits Flynn’s character. Not only for curiosity’s sake, but because Flynn won’t be caught unaware again. After Rittenhouse and his family, Flynn researches, he double-checks. The man has become obsessively prepared. It’s like a compulsion he now has. He needs that sense of control so much he doesn’t even delegate unless he has to. He trusts no one. He does everything himself. He’s paranoid something will go wrong. So many episodes, he has to check the journal before allowing himself to act. Even in 1.12, he pulled it out and studied the drawing before approaching Emma’s cabin. He looks before he leaps, and you can’t tell me that doesn’t include investigating Lucy before thrusting them into the situation where they meet. He would want to know her first, familiarize himself a little better.

So yes, he looked her up before stealing the Mothership. Fight me.

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All the slots have been filled! Thank you so much to each and every one of you for your support. To those who missed, I still have a waitlist if you are really interested!

I hope you’ll enjoy this as much as I will!

Have a wonderful day everybody ❤

Merry christmas and Happy New Year @yamarygraylu


just tried pinting for once I am sorry if it looks awful … I tried … I mean it doesn’t look too bad … I wanted to make something special cause it’s a gift , and experimenting and it’s been so long since I used my tag . I still hope that you can overlook all the bad there is in the drawing , one thing I am proud of are the eyes of the teddy bear and the bunny slippers , at least there is that you can enjoy . Well I also want to thank @graylu-angstweek for making my participation possible .

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3D Painting Test on Leoh;;;;
(also added the rough sketch to show the progress >:0 !!)

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Well, that’s a relief.

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Going from “I want to draw them in school uniforms” to “why did my brain think this was a good idea”.

I blame @ocean-kun for this–look at what you made me do I couldn’t stop thinking about Frisk in seifuku–

Okay now I can go crash :D

EDIT: Also here’s the sketch because for some reason I really like it haha–

In honor of hitting 20,000 followers today - which, by the way, THANK YOU all so fucking much - I am going to honestly answer whatever questions you guys have!!

So ask away my friends. :)

Seeing how many people have really started to respond to the things i post has really started to do a little boost to my confidence. i couldn’t do this without any of you.

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T R A G E D Y
noun | trag·e·dy | \ˈtra-jə-dē\ | 悲劇
: a very bad event that causes great sadness and often involves someone’s death
: a very sad, unfortunate, or upsetting situation : something that causes strong feelings of sadness or regret
: a play, movie, etc., that is serious and has a sad ending (such as the death of the main character).

p.s.: * click on edit to enlarge it *.

anonymous asked:

Kidfic prompt: after coming go Winterfell Theon sees snow for the first time :)

HI ANON I KNOW YOU ASKED FOR THIS AGES AGO but I’m back on prompt filling so here we go sorry for how late it is <3

When Theon sees Winterfell for the first time, it’s cold and the ground is hard and covered in dried leaves. It’s nothing he hadn’t expected: he had been warned, and he knows the North wouldn’t be warm. He’s not that kind of idiot. Still, he hadn’t expected it to look so… unwelcoming, he figures. It’s not just because Lord Stark has been as cold as the northern biting wind since they were introduced, or because the castle looms huge on the horizon as they ride towards it, but in between the wind, the equally cold looks that everyone in his party is sparing him when they have looks to spare and the general atmosphere, it’s hard to conjure optimism. Never mind that he had seen pictures on books portraying the North during its fall and it wasn’t this. In those picture, the leaves covering the grounds were red and orange and yellow and they had some life in them still, and they covered the ground like some kind of soft blanket. All the leaves he sees now are dried up and dark and dead, and he thinks that maybe it’s because -

Because winter is coming, and isn’t that laughable. He shudders. He always felt cold in Pyke, and now he’s most probably going to feel even colder.

Theon thinks, how am I even going to survive years here, and has no answer to give himself.

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