if you havent noticed Kristoff tripping a little as hes running then here you go.
i mean-he could probably run just as well as Elsa on ice because thats his job but he gets so caught up in the thought of losing Anna that he slips. but he bounces right back up because he knows that he doesnt have much time and he night lose her forever
true love isnt perfect. itll trip up sometimes. but itll also get right back up again and show that it isnt giving up
*note* the animators have said that Kristoff represents realistic love hence his awkward mess ups
yes, yes i know there are a lot of valduggery quote masterposts ou there, but these are the ones that hi hard. at least for me
“We didn’t die,” she said.
“Of course not. I’m too clever, and you’re too pretty.”
“I am pretty,” Valkyrie said, managing a grin.
(aka “wow skul this girl is smart and cute BUT DONT GET WIERRD OKAY ” (internal monologue))
“You don’t know what I think of him.”
Scapegrace laughed. “I can see it in your eyes. Everyone can. It’s cute, actually, the way you follow him around, believeing every word he says.”
(aka wow scapegrace good job u werent useless also did you call her cute shes like 13 here)
And then she was on her knees. There were tears running down her face, and it was like a part of her had been cut out, somewhere in her belly, and her thoughts were frozen in her mind.
(i have a lot of feels about this one because a damn derek writing much and b it was our first cliffhanger when we were all innocents still)
She missed him She missed is voice, and his humour, and his warm arrogance, and those moments in his company when she realised this was when she came alive - finally living, by the side of a dead man.
Something clutched at Valkyrie’s heart and wouldn’t let go. She made a sound, like a whimper, but when she tried to say his name she couldn’t. She walked very slowly, so very slowly, to the center of the room.
(this is so so sad i might start crying turn away)
“Please say something. Please. I’ve missed you so much and worked so hard to find you. Please.”
(oh my god ohmygod whyy)
“It’s me. It’s Valkyrie.”
“You’d be surprised how many figments of my imaginations say that.”
(OH MY GOD BECAUSE HE THINKS ABOUT HPW HE PROBABLY RUINED HER LIF E AND FEELS H=GUILTY AND SVYGHBJSFDFHSEIOBK)
“It could have killed her! For what? For a chance to gt me back? You should have left me there!”
(aka the obsession starts to set in in both of them)
“But you came into hell and you brought me back. I may disappoint you, but you have never disappointed me. And you never will.”
(please dont look at me)
“Until the end.”
“Until the end.”
(hahHAHhaHAHhaH y u do dis)
the whole “i understand” scene in mortal coil when she tells hims shes darquesse
“…he recreated himself in a form only she could see.”
(shush it counts okay)
“I want Valkyrie back.”
(the rest of these captions are pretty much sobbing not sorry)
“I don’t care abut what he did during the war. I’m thinking about something much more recent.”
“No, what do we do now? We’re partners. You’re my best friend. I love you.”
“…he pushed her against the wall.”
(YES I KNOW HE WAS CHECKING HER FOR BULLETS BUT ITS THE ONLY THING THAT WE HAVE THAT IS CANON OKAY)
“Your reflection is still naked, by the way.”
(admit it. you screamed. you imagined this scene hundreds of times. we all know he didn’t “just notice” it. he wa taking his SWEET ASS PERVY SKELETON TIME)
“You’re always beautiful.”
“I’m always late, too.”
(dont mind me just dying)
I GOT TOO LAZY TO DO THE REST I WILL LATER PROMISE
Yep, I think I’ve finally reached my breaking point with the Frozen tags. I mean, I’ve mostly shrugged off the Tumblr Social Justice Warriors (is the film problematic on some levels? Yep. Should we talk about it? Absolutely. But it doesn’t mean anyone who likes it is an unequivocal racist or that it’s a total affront to humanity).
But when I see someone, with a completely straight face, identify themselves as a writer and post about Kristoff being nearly identical to Gaston (and treating Anna like an incompetent child), Anna having no motivation as a character except “thinking about boys,” and complain about “the lack of realistic character development,” my brain just can’t process that depth and purity of wrongness.
…I’ve got to rant a little, so I’m going to cut this.
You jumped when you heard your name. You opened your eyes to
see the doctor standing above you. You sat up from where you had been sleeping
against Jared in the waiting room, “Yes?” you blinked several times to get your
eyes to focus, “Is he okay? Can we see him?”
stable. He has some pretty nasty cuts. He has several broken ribs and a broken
leg. But you can see him,” the doctor said.
you,” you stood up quickly, followed by Jared.
followed the doctor to Jensen’s room, but he stopped outside of the door, “He’s
breathing on his own, so the tube is no longer down his throat. He may not
respond right away, but you can talk to him.”
opened the door and you walked into the room. You could feel the tears start all
over as soon as you saw Jensen in the bed hooked to all of the machines.
I think Hans is a tragic figure because he's
a consequenceof being raised without love.
I don’t care if you hate Hans–his death, and the way his brothers respond to it, explains why he was so fundamentally selfish, and why his life was a tragic one.
When Anna is frozen solid, her sister cries out in agony and runs to her aid. Elsa is beside herself with grief, because her entire life all she ever wanted was to protect Anna and keep her safe.
Hans had twelve brothers. Twelve big brothers. That means that he should have had twelve protectors, twelve people who wanted for Hans what Elsa wanted for Anna. Twelve voices should have cried out when Hans was frozen to death, and twelve men should have gathered to mourn the little brother that they lost.
But instead they run, leaving Hans to his fate. They think only of themselves and their own safety. If love is putting someone else’s needs before yours, then it’s little wonder that Hans could not show such compassion for Anna, because selflessness and sacrifice are concepts that he has never known.
Anger and abuse is a viscous cycle. I can only imagine what sort of upbringing raised Hans’ brothers to look at their youngest sibling–a small, innocent child–and decide that he should be ignored, ridiculed and mocked. I would have liked to see someone show compassion to Hans, to forgive him and teach him the way to end the cycle of hatred… and perhaps he can recover, somehow, from his frozen fate. He has seen what real siblings can do, when they care and sacrifice for one another, and maybe someday he will know what that kind of compassion feels like.
A/N: I’m back with a requested imagine in which you and Dylan go ice skating! It’s super fluffy and I had a really nice time writing it. For some reason it got me really excited about fall/winter weather, because I don’t know about you all but I’m sooo sick of this heat!
Anyways, I hope you all like it! :)
First dates have never really been your thing. As much as you try to convince yourself that you are brimming with confidence and grace in the days leading up to them, things usually take a turn for the worse as soon as you open your mouth to speak to the guy you’re with.
You can’t help how nervous you get; it’s just how you are with everything - or everyone - new. Unfortunately, it tends to drive most potential partners away.
However, when Dylan and you end up hitting it off at a party where the two of you meet for the first time, you obviously can’t turn him down when he asks you out. Even when he mentions the dreaded activity that caused you to sprain your ankle when you were twelve: ice skating.
This particular memory doesn’t occur to you until you’re sitting in Dylan’s car on the way to the ice skating rink. The both of you are goofily singing along to some rap song that has just started on the radio, laughing hysterically as you fail to keep up with the fast-paced lyrics.
“Y/N, is everything okay?” Dylan suddenly asks, reaching over to lower the volume on the radio.
You blink, snapping out of your reverie as the music that was once flooding your ears becomes a gentle hum in the background. “Yeah, I’m fine. Why do you ask?”
“You stopped singing,” he says with a shrug. “And I know for a fact you don’t wanna hear me sing by myself.”
You giggle. “Sorry, I just…”
“You just?” he advances, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. You take note of his oversized black Mets sweatshirt and tousled hair, which make him look extremely cute.
“I haven’t been ice skating in a really long time,” You finally continue, deciding not to mention the sprained-ankle incident. “Like, ten or so years. And I don’t wanna be falling all over you when we get out there.”
“You sure? Because that seems like a pretty clever flirting tactic,” he teases, shooting you a playful smirk. You blush, emitting another soft laugh.
“You’ll do great, Y/N. It’s sorta like riding a bike - you can never really forget it, y’know?”
You nod, forcing a smile while trying to swallow back the nervous lump forming in your throat. Dylan’s tone is comforting, but your anxiety tends to get the best of you in almost any situation.
A few minutes later, Dylan’s car pulls into the parking lot of the skating rink. As soon as the two of you walk in, it immediately feels like a wall of icy weather hits you, causing a round of shivers to run up and down your spine.
“Geez, it’s freezing in here,” You note, following Dylan over to the front counter.
“Yeah, you get used to it, though,” he says, looking down at you. “Oh, shit. You don’t even have a coat on.”
“Yeah, I guess I didn’t realize…” You trail off, embarrassed.
“No, it’s totally fine. Hang on.”
He tugs up on the tail of his sweatshirt, pulling it over his head swiftly and handing it over to you. As flattered as you are, you shake your head at him.
“No, Dyl. I’ll be okay, really. If I take this from you, then you’ll be cold.”
“I’ll be fine, Y/N. I have a long sleeved shirt on, see?” He holds the sweatshirt closer to you, smiling. “Take it.”
You bite your lip, wordlessly pulling the sweatshirt on, careful not to mess up your hair. As you do so, a pleasant mixture of cologne and something you can’t quite put your finger on floods your nasal passages. You inhale a few more times, more than happy with the idea of wearing Dylan’s sweatshirt, despite the fact that it’s ridiculously long on you.
“Better?” he asks, giving your shoulder a gentle squeeze.
“Mhm, much better,” You reply contentedly, grinning.
Dylan pays for the two of you to enter, and after an embarrassing moment where he has to help you lace up your skates because you don’t know how, the two of you hit the rink.
You step foot on the ice as cautiously as you possibly can, clutching the side railing hard enough for your knuckles to turn white.
“Hey, hey, hey,” Dylan says, placing his hand on your lower back as he skates beside you. “You don’t need to do that. It’s just like riding a bike, remember?”
“Just like riding a bike,” You mumble, repeating this mantra over and over as you force yourself to let go of the railing.
Dylan tightens his grip on your back, and you manage to get just a few feet ahead of where you were before falling right down on your butt.
“Okay, maybe not,” Dylan says, crouching down beside you. “Are you okay?”
He reaches out to touch your face in concern, his fingers lingering on your skin for just a few moments until he quickly draws them back. His cheeks turn pink, and you’re not so sure it’s just because of the cold.
You wrinkle your nose, the searing pain in your tailbone quickly dying down. “I’m okay. I - I’m gonna need your help standing up, though.”
Dylan smiles sweetly, taking both your hands and pulling you up beside him with ease. He continues to smile at you as you regain your footing, but meanwhile, you’re trying not to think about how humiliated you feel. You have been on a lot of bad first dates, and so far this one isn’t looking too promising, either.
You can’t help it - despite your best efforts, you can now feel a few hot tears escape your eyes and snake down your frozen cheeks. You grab onto the railing with both your hands, hoping Dylan doesn’t see them before you get the chance to wipe them away.
After all, he’s the reason you’re getting worked up; it’s been a long time since you’ve met a guy like him and you were really hoping this date would run smoothly.
Dylan does see you, however, even with half of your face shielded from him.
“Hey, shhhh, you’re gonna be okay,” he says soothingly, returning his hand to the same spot on your lower back. “It’s fine. Everyone falls when they go ice skating. Does it hurt that bad?”
“I’m not crying because I fell,” You say, choking out a laugh. “Well, maybe I am. I - I don’t know why I’m crying. Actually, yes I do.”
He frowns. “Care to elaborate?”
“The last date I went on with a guy, we were at a restaurant and I knocked over a candle on his sleeve.” You sniffle, wiping your nose on the back of your hand. “And that’s not even the worst first date I’ve been on. Falling on my ass in front of a guy is pretty bad, though. God, it’s like I’m cursed or something.”
Dylan chuckles. “You’re not cursed. Alright, so you don’t know how to ice skate? Neither do half the people I know. And hey, you should’ve seen me when I was first learning - I was falling left and right.”
“But I do know how,” You insist, biting your lip, trying to convince yourself more than him. “I guess I just… forgot a few things.”
“Then I’ll help you remember them, okay?” He pinches your chin between his thumb and index finger, urging you to meet his gaze. “Don’t cry, Y/N.”
You wipe away the remaining tears on your face, smiling slightly up at him. He grins in return, gently taking one of your hands in his.
“Are you ready? Alright, let’s do this.”
It takes you a little bit of time, but with Dylan’s constant patience and assistance, you are able to pick up on what you learned when you were twelve and used to skate more often. Your feelings of humiliation and disappointment wear off with every joke Dylan cracks or with each smile he shoots in your direction. By the end of your skating session, you and Dylan are still holding hands, even though you can now skate perfectly fine without him.
It’s dark by the time you head back outside, walking over to his parked car across the lot. You gently tug on his arm before he can walk around to the driver’s side.
“What is it, Y/N?” he asks.
“I just…” You begin tentatively. “I wanted to thank you for not letting me sprain my ankle.”
Dylan laughs, a little confused, but his fingers curl around the fabric of your - his - sweatshirt as he leans down to give you a chaste kiss on the lips.
“Thanks for not knocking over a candle on my sleeve,” he teases.
He kisses you again. Fireworks explode behind your closed eyelids, and you’re pretty sure that this is the best first date you’ve ever been on.
So I feel like Big Hero 6 deserves more credit than it gets. The plot is great, and we have a lot of messages about depression and loss in the movie. I don’t know about you, but I think a lot of people need to know this movie and get its message that no matter what’s going on in their life, it’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be successful. Don’t give up.
Frozen may be a metaphor for depression, but it’s named and talked about in this film.
Plus, we have a wide range of characters in the movie. Hello, how often do people complain about PoC not being included? We have Wasabi, who’s African American. We have GoGo, who’s Asian. We have Honey Lemon, who’s Hispanic. Hiro and Tadashi are half-Japanese. Fred and Cass are Caucasian. Baymax is..a robot. Practically all bases covered.
Finally, we have GIRL SCIENTISTS. How many little girls out there are scientifically motivated, but hide it because it’s not “cool” for a girl to be into that stuff?
Big Hero 6 has so many good messages in it, please don’t let it be a failure or forgotten.
So in anticipation for the episode tonight, I put this little piece together. It’s basically Dean talking to Sam while he’s away at college up until John goes missing. I haven’t stopped thinking about a Frozen/Supernatural AU since I saw the movie last week. Please enjoy this because I spent a lot of time on it and you should totally reblog it and show it to everyone you know.
Do you want to hunt a demon?
Come on, let’s go and fight!
I never see you any more.
Dad’s hunts don’t feel right!
You used to be a hunter
But now you’re not.
I wish you would come back home!
Do you wanna hunt a demon?
It doesn’t have to be a demon.
[Leave me alone, Dean.]
Do you want to hunt a demon?
Or go and kill a wendigo?
I think some company is overdue.
I’ve started talking to
The car as it goes!
[The same cassette tapes, Sam!]
It gets a little lonely.
All these boring hunts,
Just watching the road go by.
[gunshot, gunshot…] they’re supposed to be gunshots, okay?
I know you’re out there.
Bobby’s been asking how you’ve been.
He says come get you, and I wanted to.
I’m here to protect you,
Don’t make me break in.
All I’ve got is you now.
Dad is gone.
I need you to help me through.
Do you want to hunt a demon?
The background music is from this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_hco7TbUDg
In one of the foster homes that she’d lived in as a child, Emma had once spent the night outside alone. The foster mother had left them, the father too drunk to remember that she was outside when he’d locked the back door, too deeply asleep to hear her knocking or her cries when she came home from school. She’d huddled in a corner of the porch to keep out of the rain, the jumper wrapped around her the only barrier from the cold, the tears on her cheeks warm in comparison to the night air.
It didn’t compare to how she felt now.
She’d long since stopped being able to feel her toes beyond an uncomfortable press in her boots. She was losing feeling in her fingers. She’d spent what felt like hours trying to escape her icy prison - using methods both magical and ordinary - until she didn’t even have the strength to stand, and so she huddled on the ground, hating the feeling of the cold seeping through her clothes. But the worst thing was the way that each breath that she sucked in - coming harder and harder each time - sent a harsh iciness into her lungs, spreading through her insides and freezing her from the inside out.
More McHanzo! but oh no this shit ain’t happy (at least i hope it isn’t)
Howw the everloving fuck do you write angst???
My original prompt was “Dying” and I was all like “noonoNoNO I want some happy shit mm” so I rolled the random number generator again and got 76 so I was all “ayy dad76” and then I see the word and I’m all- “Oh sheit it’s dream wtf am I supposed to do oh well at least it’s happy!!”
No, but of course my homework muddled mind was all whispering seductively in my ear like ‘oh no you gotta make someone die you can’t skip a prompt oh why don’t you make yourself suffer and write feelings? ooh yeah McHanzo is a greAt guinea pig mMm’
..so here I am
Hopefully this flowed okay, I was trying not to cry but my vision was a lot more detailed than what I wrote hugh And- how to title? I’ll have 50 posts about ships with ‘love’ in the title sheesh
((also a bit long sorry
fuTURE EDIT I LOVE YOU ALL JUST AS MUCH AS MCHANZO LOVES MCHANZO OKay maybe a little less but holy shit thank you all so much i’m feeling all fluttery inside now ^~^
It was too late.
He watched, petrified as McCree’s limp form fell to the ground,
his own body frozen in a state of perpetual shock. It was almost as if he were
moving exceptionally slowly, as if McCree was floating to the ground, as if his
dragons were screeching into a tear between time and space.
Hanzo could suddenly hear everything, see everything, could feel
everything around him. He couldn’t move his body, entire being consumed by the frigid
hands of numbing cold that winter brought to him. The rough terrain around him
seemed suspended, specks of snow floating carelessly away in what he thought was
originally the whipping icy gales of wind that had relentlessly pounded away at
Amidst the dots of snowflakes in the sky, there was McCree’s
hat, splattered with blood and still flying away in what seemed like a gentle
breeze. There were the trees, void of leaves and swaying softly in the wind. There
was the snow, blindingly white and coating everything in a pure blanket of
And there, was blood- Everywhere, blood. Pooled around
bodies and soaked into the crimson red snow, splattered against walls and
drenched in clothing and pouring from unattended wounds. The metallic tang
seeped into Hanzo’s body, soul tainted by the very sickening stench of it.
He could vaguely hear his intercom crackling with static,
the panicked cries of his comrades echoing distantly into his ears, which were unable
to hear the world around him. Only white noise registered in his mind, blank
and driving him to the brink of insanity had he not been staring in horror.
Staring in absolute terror, entire being focused entirely on
Jesse McCree. There was his hat, gliding away in the wind. There was
Peacemaker, his gun, kicked away and buried in a mound of ice. And there, was
Deafeningly loud was the sound of a body thumping to the
ground, and all of a sudden, everything moved once more. The hat was whipped
away, branches swished violently from side to side, and his dragons roaring fearlessly
in the distance, their cries fighting with the thunderous winds and spiraling bodies
wreaking havoc, clearing the forest of all forms of life.
Hanzo didn’t notice any of it.
He could only notice how the stupid moron was still trying
to move. How the dumbass was trying to form words while coughing up blood, how
the idiot was trying to smile with blood-stained lips, how the blundering fool was trying to make the most of the
last few moments of his all too short life.
Hanzo could only see the crippled form of McCree laying on
the ground, the growing pool of blood seeping into the snow under him. The man’s
left arm was no longer, only a nub of torn away scrap metal and wires
remaining, flesh arm bent at an odd angle, and McCree’s eyes dull, fading life.
Hanzo needed to move, needed to just fucking move but his goddamn legs wouldn’t. He
needed to be by McCree’s side, just had to hold desperately onto whatever life
was left of him. He couldn’t be too late, not again.
Hanzo finally did, his frozen legs nearly giving way to the
trembles that shook his entire body viciously as he ran, hopped, and then
crawled to his partner. Blood pooled below the two, but Hanzo didn’t care as he lifted the man up, a mess of
tears and sobs and stuttering gasps of air as he begged for McCree to just come back.
The man only smiled weakly, shoulders quaking with effort as
a cough wrecked his body. He winced, body shaking even more as he tried to lift
his broken arm, a ghost of a smile resting on his face when Hanzo reached over
to hold him gingerly, carefully, as if he would break. The archer could only
stare, eyes wide in dismay as even more of McCree’s lifeblood seeped into the
serape, the very same serape that he wished he hadn’t ridiculed so many times
before. Because now, there would be no ‘after’, and he wouldn’t get to
apologize. Not anymore
“Darlin’..” McCree mumbled, Hanzo immediately hushing the
man and reaching a tender hand to McCree’s cheek.
“Jesse..” He whispered, looking hopelessly into his lover’s
eyes for any sign of permanent life, a
chunk of his heart shattering when he found none.
Strands of bloodied hair stuck to McCree’s face and his
scruffy beard was sticky with still drying blood as he lifted his head, gazing
into Hanzo’s helpless eyes with dull ones that stubbornly held on to life, if
not just for this one last moment.
“I love you.”
Hanzo wailed into the empty air around him when he felt his
partner’s head loll lifelessly into his cradled arms, surrounded and isolated by
an overwhelming sense of loneliness and realization that McCree was gone.
Jesse McCree was gone.
His heart clenched and he felt the claw of the devil curling
around it, teeth gritted together in agony as the demon twisted his heart every
which way. He opened his mouth to gasp, only to choke on a sob and recoil into
a fit of coughs and sobs, tear streaks coating his cheeks.
Sorrow filled his voice as he let a howl of grief rise up
into the cold winds around him, fisting the worn-out cloth of McCree’s serape
and burying his head into the lifeless body of McCree’s chest, tears soaking
into the fabric and getting lost in a sea of blood.
He gasped for air, entire body shuddering, eyes wide and
choking on tears once more as he clung onto the nearest thing beside him.
Warmth, foreign and yet familiar at the same time flooded
through his entire body, devouring the mind-numbing cold in seconds and sending
waves of odd reassurance through his body. Hanzo breathed in fresh air, pure
and untainted by the nauseating stench of metallic blood. He never noticed the
crystalline sorrow that had slid down his cheeks until he felt a comforting
hand wiping them away.
“Darlin’? Darlin’, are you alright?”
Hanzo registered for only a second what had truly happened,
taking in the familiar surroundings around him and finally looking up into a
very concerned, but very much alive Jesse McCree. He wrapped his arms around
the man as tightly as he possibly could, weaving his legs into McCree’s and
tangling his body with the other’s as he shuffled around under the warmth of
the blankets to get as close as he could to an even warmer McCree.
He never stopped crying, his cries of anguish painfully loud
in McCree’s ears. Hanzo felt gentle hands wrapping around his curled up self,
the action only causing him to weep even louder and squeeze even tighter onto
McCree. His sobs and breaths of air were cut sharply by his stuttering voice,
words broken by strangled tears as he chanted over and over again into McCree’s
“Don’t leave me.”
And McCree, rubbing soothing circles into Hanzo’s back,
replied without a second’s hesitation,