grass in snow

One Moment - Collab

[This is a collab with @lumiereswig.  We decided to cover one moment of the film: the moment when the villagers are storming the castle, and at the same time the staff are despairing over the fact that they’ll never be human again.  I got the villagers.  Enjoy!]

When they enter the forest, they are driven.  Angry.  Afraid.  The Beast is going to come after their children in the night, and more if they don’t do something. How such an atrocity has slipped past their watchful eyes is beyond them, but now they have a chance to set it right.


That attitude lasts about half an hour.

When they pass through the undergrowth, the grass turns to snow beneath their feet.  A cold gust of wind howls through the trees, biting them beneath their clothes. Trees reach up towards the sky, twisted and terrifying, cold and dead, silently crying out for help.  Icicles adorn everything here, but they don’t glimmer and twinkle; they are dull and jagged and sharp…like thorns.

Of course, they don’t expect the Beast’s territory to be as beautiful as Villeneuve, but no one is expecting this.  Some drop their weapons and plunge their hands into their pockets to preserve the summer heat.  Cries of anger and war diminish to uneasy whimpers, mutterings, and scared glances at each other.  Even the torches seem to shrink against the freezing night.

And there are whispers. Whispers in the dark.

The baker feels the weight of the battering ram on his right shoulder as he waves his cutting knife in the air with his left hand, bellowing along to the chant that Gaston’s friends have taken up: Kill the beast. Kill the beast. Kill the beast. Kill the beast. But in a moment of complete clarity, the torches move, and the baker catches a hint of doubt in Monsieur Lefou’s face.  Then it’s gone, replaced by the blind determination that lights the eyes of everyone around him. Still.  It’s enough to prompt uncertainty.

The triplets trail a few paces behind.  Close enough to still catch hints of the war song, too far away to be seen.  At first they clamor to be heard, anxious for their voices to join with Gaston’s baritone,  struggling to get to the front of the line, but by the time they reach the forest they are quiet, their weapons dangling in their hands, fingertips nearly numb from the cold.  They should have bought their winter cloaks, they think, and their scarves.  But it was all in the heat of the moment, wasn’t it?  It had seemed so crucial that they go right then.  Still, they are doing something good, aren’t they?  Aren’t they a part of something important?

That’s what Clothilde thinks. There is no doubt in the fishmonger’s mind as she strides along with the crowd, her pitchfork held aloft in her two gnarled hands, her face as grim as Gaston’s own.  She always knew that Belle and Maurice were trouble.  Mad, the lot of them are.  Perhaps a good dose of reality will set them straight.  And once they find this beast character, everything will finally be able to continue on as it had. No old men painting, no girls reading books and making machines. Peaceful.  

The headmaster exchanges a glance with her and the two nod.  His expression is stony and guarded as he marches onward with a pair of brass knuckles in his hands. He’s never had any children, but at the moment he’s angry with Maurice for bringing his daughter up like he did.  She’s disgraced herself time and time again, ever since they came to Villeneuve.  If he ever had a daughter, he would never teach her how to act like such a lunatic.  He doesn’t care for newcomers.  They always bring trouble.

Jean is in the center of the pack, far, far away from everyone else.  He’s not so much walking as being pushed forward by the other villagers.  He holds a rolling pin in his hands and glances fearfully to either side of him, trying not to notice the watchful eyes of the forest peering at him through the trees.  The others don’t notice, but he does.  And he doesn’t want to be here.  He wants to be at home, with his tools and cups and pots…pots?  He blinks.  What is it with pots?  Every time he thinks of them, he feels like he’s on the verge of remembering.  Remembering what, he doesn’t know exactly.  But remembering.  And strangely, that’s important.  He imagines that this march to the castle has something to do with it.

Maybe that’s why he came.


Jean stops as his foot catches on the ground.  Something glimmers in the snow.  Bewildered, the old potter squats down to investigate.  The other villagers don’t seem to care; they weave around him, uneasy, unsure, as he brushes off the snow from this peculiar metal object.  And when he finally uncovers it, he lets out a small “oh!” of surprise.

It’s beautiful.  Gilded windows, shimmering walls, and a miniature artist, his wooden hand tracing a picture of a woman with long brown hair.  Even here, in the darkness and the distress, Jean recognizes the handiwork.  

Maurice had never come by Jean’s shop much, only to make a few small purchases here and there. But Jean does know that he specializes in many types of art styles. Music boxes being one of them.

What is one of his creations doing all the way out here?  Perhaps a traveler came by and bought it, then lost it in the winter storm?  Jean shakes his head. Whatever the reason, such a fine piece of machinery doesn’t deserve to be trampled on.  He takes it in his arms and stows it away in the pack he had brought with him.  There it will rest until they get back from the castle.  Right after they rid the world of this terrifying creature, Jean will return it to the old man.  He promises.

In the darkness, a single wolf lets out a howl, stark and pure in the night before the entire pack joins in.

And then one torch rises above the others, blazes with such an intensity that the villagers at the front stop, halting the march altogether.  They’ve reached the gates of the castle.  Gaston is shouting something, waving the light to and fro, and his lackeys take up the cry.  The battering ram moves forward and slams into the ice, making contact with the bars.  Once, twice, three times before the brittle metal gives and falls to the ground.

“KILL THE BEAST!” Gaston bellows, and spurs his horse onto the grounds.  Before them looms a gigantic castle, ominous and terrible, befitting the home of a true monster.  And as the villagers charge after him, any trace of uncertainty vanishes, only to be replaced by fearful hatred, witless rage.  They raise their weapons high and become a mob, a force of fury formed by fear.  Bearing down upon the castle…and the undeserving that lie inside.


R e n d !! 🔪 🔪

Yatogami and his Yukine ♡♡ 
I wanted to draw some meaningful/Japanesey things for the backgrounds aha. I hope it is fun figuring out what they mean ^^

 Watercolours on 200gsm

A Good Thing

“Bobby, you can’t keep doing that to him.”
Bob raises his eyebrows, putting down his fork. “Doing what, Alicia? Corralling our son into talking about his crush?”

Or, A fic about Bob and Alicia noticing Jack’s feelings for Bitty before even he does.

Bob Zimmermann is kind of messy, only a bit of a smart ass, and just a tad hard of hearing. Yet even without perfect hearing Bob can’t miss the affection in his son’s voice when talking about a certain line-mate.

Bob Zimmermann is many things, but he is no idiot.

“Did you get that paper done for your…what was it again- american pie class?”

Bob looks over his shoulder just in time to see Alicia send an appraising look from the couch. He catches a hint of a smile.

He winks back and she rolls her eyes in return.

Bob turns again to the large window, the white light blinding him for a moment. The large expanse of grass is still littered with snow, lining the way down to their lake. A blank sky hugs the horizon.

“Women, food, and American culture, Papa.”

“Right. So how’d you do on the paper? Did Eric help you out?”

Keep reading

⇁ paper doll | 01

Originally posted by jengkook

pairing⇁Jungkook x Reader

genre⇁drama, slight angst, smut ||  idol+singer-songwriter!au

warnings⇁sex, language

word count⇁4.7k

When the nation’s little sister, IU, gets into a huge scandal, your agency seizes the opportunity to thrust you into that now vacant spotlight. Your self-composed song Paper Doll becomes an overnight sensation, and soon people are itching to find out who was the one who broke your heart. All hell breaks loose once netizens discover that you used to date popular idol, Jeon Jungkook. Little do they know that it wasn’t him who left the relationship unscathed — it was you.

↳ alternatively: a story on the consequences of a hit break-up song

⇀   00 | 01

Keep reading

there are butch women out there in the world and that makes me smile.

somewhere, even right now, a butch is buttoning up her work shirt. another butch somewhere else is changing out of her work clothes, and another one is cooking a meal. somewhere, right now, a butch is holding her girlfriend’s hand. a butch is going on a first date and is nervous. a butch is going through a breakup. a butch is newly in a relationship. a butch is laughing. a butch is dancing.

somewhere right now, a butch is shopping for new jeans. another butch is listening to the radio. a butch is making her own music. somewhere, a butch is up early while another butch is sleeping in. a butch has a long commute. a butch walks to the corner store for a snack. a butch is going for a run. a butch is breaking in new shoes. a butch is driving down the highway. a butch is calling her wife on the phone to see how her day was. somewhere a butch is tying a tie, and somewhere else a butch is helping another woman zip up the back of her dress, or maybe helping another woman tie her tie. 

somewhere a butch feels lonely, and somewhere a butch is experiencing love for the first time. somewhere a butch is on the train, or the subway, or a motorcycle. somewhere a butch is out fishing. somewhere a butch is eating a sandwich. another butch marches in a political demonstration or a pride parade. somewhere in the world a butch is reading a book. a butch is going to the movie theater. a butch is quitting her job, or starting a new one. a butch is visiting someone in the hospital. a butch is going to church, or synagogue, or mosque, and another butch is coming to terms with not going to anything like that anymore. 

somewhere out there, a butch is retired. a butch is picking her children up from school. a butch is happy. a young butch somewhere is putting on her first men’s clothes with some trepidation but a lot of joy. a butch is coming out to her family, or at school or work. a butch is going to the doctor or the dentist. a butch is playing basketball. a butch is moving into a new home, or redecorating a long time one. a butch is struggling to pay her bills. a butch is taking care of a loved one who needs her help. somewhere a butch is building a home. a butch is cutting the grass. a butch is shoveling snow. 

somewhere a butch is hugging someone, or kissing someone. somewhere a butch is getting a good night’s rest. another butch is up late working or thinking or talking on the phone, and another is brushing her teeth. another butch is on lunch break, eating something delicious. somewhere a butch is feeling hope. a butch is feeling hurt, but another butch somewhere is experiencing healing. a butch is giving a compliment. a butch is being recognized for her strengths. a butch is seeing the woman she loves for the first time in a long time. somewhere else, a butch is having to say a goodbye. 

somewhere a butch has ambitions. a butch is studying hard in school. a butch is trying to deal with a failure. a butch is doing research. a butch is writing. a butch is fixing a car. a butch is playing an instrument. somewhere a butch is changing her life plan. somewhere a butch doesn’t know what she’s going to do about the situation she’s in. a butch is making a hard decision. a butch is mourning a loss. a butch is going to therapy. a butch is starting new in some way. a butch is confiding in someone. a butch is adopting a pet. a butch is making a new friend. 

somewhere a butch is talking to her long distance girlfriend on the phone. somewhere a butch is getting up the courage to talk to her crush. a butch is holding hands. a butch is having sex. a butch is trying to forget about a bad date, while another butch celebrates a good one. a butch is telling someone something about herself that is hard for her to say. somewhere a butch is being a good listener, and another butch is learning from a mistake. a butch is grateful to someone. a butch is feeling nostalgic. a butch is moving on from something or someone. 

somewhere a butch is riding a bicycle. another butch is out gardening. a butch is out getting a drink. a butch is telling a hilarious joke. a butch is at the barber shop, maybe for the hundredth time. maybe even on the same day or in the same city, a baby butch is getting her hair cut for the first time. somewhere a butch is planning to propose. a butch is deciding to study something new. a butch is going on a long trip. a butch is home on vacation for the first time in a while. somewhere, a butch laughs with her family. somewhere else, a butch is just beginning to find a chosen family who loves her for who she is. 

there are many butches out there who love and are loved by many different people. there are butches out there who I will never meet, who understand the way I feel and who I am. there is of course more to all of us than being butch, but that is not the point of what I am trying to say. there are butch women out there in the world and that makes me smile. 

Okay so I’m so excited for William Joyce’s next Guardians of Childhood Book that I was inspired by his picture book this page specifically down here *points down*

to make the image at the top. Now if you know some stuff about it you would know who is on the other cliff, and if not I’m gonna let you guys guess. There’s a whole story on why, but I’m gonna save that for later.