just figured out that was corn

sans-the-skeleton-999  asked:

More Lance head cannons please? (He's my fav)

lance is my son thank you for this opportunity

  • “hunk, what’s lance doing?” “his best”
  • is That Guy who’ll stand in the same room as you and groan and sigh dramatically until you ask him what’s wrong
  • get really homesick easily which is sad but also kinda funny?? he starts tearing up over the weirdest shit
    • *sees a plant* “this reminds me vaguely of a flower in the bouquet my mamá gave my tío antonio at his wedding four years and nine months ago” “is lance crying”
  • has gone into battle w the face mask and lion slippers on
  • occasionally gets the vague impression that shiro is gonna pull La Chancla on him and it stresses him out
  • his self care routine is religious and he’s too proud to actually ask anyone for advice so instead he just follows coran around the castle for days trying to figure out how he keeps his mustache so perfectly coiffed
  • “keith that’s a stupid plan and there’s no way i’m going along with it” “why, are you chicken?” “…..fuck you i’m not let’s go”
  • is still lowkey bitter about allura’s comment about his ears
  • pidge: “i would sell you to satan for two corn chips” lance, patting pidge on the head: “love u too lil buddy”

Now Alfred just doesn’t allow this.


The thing is, Bruce can cook, despite what the kids would like you to think. He isn’t a gourmand, but he’s definitely better functioning in that aspect than most single men who for one reason or another grew up never thinking they would have to cook.


Except Bruce knew he would have to cook one day (Bruce had a concept of mortality: Alfred would, eventually, die. And leave Bruce alone. And it would be terrible, and he would need to cook for himself while also sobbing and watching his world fall apart. Ergo: chase down that particular panic attack with the initiation of cooking lessons.) and the socio-economic reality of sexism and entitlement that left men largely helpless and nonfunctional without a woman (whose life expectancy and happiness were statistically rapidly lowered as the man’s rapidly increased) came later.


…but the bottom line was, Bruce could cook, and sometimes, it was even nice.


But Alfred, who follows his role as Butler like a pre-Lutheran Catholic, would never give permission to be served his ward’s cooking, and perhaps once it was a defense mechanism.


Now, it’s just a little strange when Bruce wakes up before Alfred (who must sleep sometime) and decides to just scramble some eggs, and Alfred refuses to have any when Bruce offers them.


Dick did not get the cooking lessons Bruce did, but he managed okay with reading the instructions, as long as he remembers to read instructions. He doesn’t actually believe there are people who can’t cook. He’s never really met someone who cannot cook. He just assumes there are people who know about cookbooks, and people who don’t even want to try.


He’s pretty sure he’s right.


Anyway, Dick knows about cookbooks, he just doesn’t use them so often when a bowl of cereal or some heavy caloric fast-food is easier. But sometimes it’s a quiet night in Blüdhaven and he just gets that itch for chocolate cake.


And he’ll buy the pre-mixed cake mixes! Which Alfred says ‘isn’t really cooking’ but… it’s just not cooking from scratch, and Dick doesn’t feel like melting a lot of baking chocolate in the microwave (also illegal in Alfred’s opinion) and going out and buying flour and baking soda and… yeah. He’d rather pick up two chocolate cake mixes, some eggs, corn oil, and a bunch of powdered sugar and milk (because he will do homemade buttercream, as one of the few times the extra effort is indisputably worth it).


…and then he realizes he can’t make a triple-decker chocolate cake with raspberries and chocolate buttercream icing and like. Eat all of it entirely on his own?


He’s eating egg noodles for dinner and drives back to the batcave just to get rid of some of this cake. He figures he can stick an ‘eat me’ sign on it and Bruce or Tim or Damian will do the rest. But coming in, Dick spots Alfred first, and–


…Alfred refuses the slice, thank you Master Grayson, but it will just be too rich for him.


(Dick isn’t sure if that’s a joke or not.)



Jason didn’t start cooking until he was long gone, which shouldn’t have been as strange a thing to say as it was, but– “long gone” was definitively an euphemism in the Wayne household.


He certainly didn’t cook at the house.


.


Timothy mostly made smoothies.


Alfred had explained that one could not, in fact, get the total nutritional count of a meal out of a smoothie, due to the disruption of the stability of the food, but Tim just lifted up his brusselsprout-banana-kale-mango-oat-and-protein-powder smoothie and asked Alfred if he wanted a sip.


Alfred did not.


.


….


Damian has never dipped strawberries in chocolate before.


He is meticulous. Exact. He holds each strawberry by all of its leaves, never once letting them dip into residue, and he spins the strawberry just like that until it is covered on all side by chocolate–an even spread on all sides.


Then, he holds the strawberry above the chocolate, watching it drip until the outer shell hardens enough that it will not become flat upon being laid down.


Then he cuts off the stems, leaving the entire berry edible, with no refuse to deal with upon consumption.


The whole time, his other hand stirs the pot of dark chocolate, not wanting it to fully solidify, but wanting the temperature low enough to allow it to truly stick to the berry.


…and before eating any, he presents them to Alfred. Stoically. On a tray, each berry on its individual small dish, each cored and presented uniformly; all facing the same direction.


Alfred is reading the morning news with a small cup of coffee when it happens.


He doesn’t look surprised, but this hadn’t been planned, certainly.


He looks at Damian.


Damian looks back at him.


Not a word is spoken between them. Not until Alfred slowly raises his hand, plucking the smallest berry’s plate, holding it by the rim like a tea saucer, and plucking up the small berry with a careful daintiness.


It fits in his mouth without having to bite. For a moment he considers carefully, chewing.


He sets the plate back down on the tray.


“Excellent work, Master Damian. Truly a mastery of the art.”


And Damian beams.




Mockingjay Inn

Written by: @burkygirl

Prompt 25: Katniss and Peeta are both frequent pop-in guests at an out-of-the-way B&B. One weekend, it is surprisingly booked up and the manager asks if they can share a suite in an effort to be less of an inconvenience for such loyal customers and since they sort of know each other. (Submitted by @roseymama )

Rated E, Trigger warnings for smut, a few curse words and mentions of a dying family member.

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Mewman Magic, Monster Magic, and Star’s Mediation

aka: Why Star’s solution to Baby’s apple test is Really Fucking Important

we’re all familiar with the sparkly cloudlike pink magic star uses, and mewman magic been referred to several times by name as well as in stuff like “mewman force field” and buff frog’s line  “[toffee] knows about you, and he does not like your magic”. mewman magic spells can be used for a huge array of things, probably nigh limitless provided the user is creative/skilled enough to figure out a spell for it. 

we’re also well familiar with the jagged green magic ludo begins to unlock with the cleaved wand in s2. i think pretty much everyone has just been calling it “evil” or “dark” magic or whatever, understandably so. so far, we’ve pretty much only seen it used for destruction. it makes star’s summons behave erratically, it made a hole in in the corn field force field, it’s broken up the ground in addition to having particularly strong basic beam attacks, you get it. but this magic has be very subtly shown to be capable of more than just destruction, if wielded by the right person…
they’ve never talked about “monster magic” specifically by name, but rather than being something nebulous like evil/bad magic, i believe the green energy is simply monster magic, and we just don’t see it used for more than destruction because ludo isn’t “using his imagination”, as glossaryk said [and also is under toffee’s control.]
so if monsters have their own magic too, why haven’t we seen any in play? simple- until now, they didn’t have a wand to channel it, or probably any recent knowledge that they even CAN use magic [if they didn’t use it in the monster/mewman war, i doubt they knew they were capable, period.] sure, going without an instrument is technically an option, but mastering magic with a wand is already hard enough, and with them getting the shitty side of the Mewman/Monster Accord after the war [mentioned in Star & Marco’s Guide to Mastering Every Dimension; unfortunately the thread where i’d gotten to read most of that got shut down really quickly so no picture proof, but as a funfact: ludo, toffee, and  rasticore are all wanted on mewni for violating it],  monsters likely didn’t have anyone that could teach them [whether that be the obvious glossaryck or simply an elder of some sort ], or probably even much of a way of finding out themselves.
now that monsters have a wand, they have a way to unleash their own kind of power.

though as my friend pointed out, that’s not to say “dark” magic doesn’t still exist

glossaryck even SAYS “this stuff is…dark”, but eclipsa is something for s3 to tackle, probably.

back on track: if all monsters needed was a wand, why didn’t toffee just take it like ludo had been trying to? why destroy/cleave it and end up leaving mewmans able to fight back with their own powerful tool?

mewman and monster magic are both incredibly powerful, as we’ve seen. but..

both of them pale in comparison to the power of magic of monster and mewman brand combined.

and it seems that toffee knew this. i don’t know specifically how, but i’d wager his being an “immortal monster” has a lot to do with it, maybe it’s like some ancient knowledge that’s long since been forgotten by everyone else.

both that beam and the tree that grew from it are a distinct mix of pink and green. the fact that star has demonstrated that she is able to wield both types simultaneously when she’s focused enough is huge.
another quick derail: it seems that the wand will output whatever kind of magic a user is concentrating on more. spellcasting comes very easily to star and it’s a low-effort thing for her, while ludo constantly has to ham-fist his way into getting it to work, so if ludo and star are both using it at the same time–see: Wand to Wand–ludo’s efforts are almost always going to overpower star’s, UNLESS she gets serious [i.e. when saving marco from the enraged cloudy at the end.]
ANYWAY, this moment isn’t important for just the power it’ll grant her.

y’see, star is basically steven.

just as steven was made to be a bridge between gems and humans, i believe star butterfly is going to mediate between and unite mewmans and monsters

the seed was already planted way back in Mewnipendence Day when she began having hesitations after realizing that things were horribly, unfairly skewed in the mewmans’ favor in their history, and maybe monsters weren’t just this terrible, ugly group that’s a plague to the lands.

but what’s MORE is that group of “alternative monsters” who are huge fans of her and her being a “rebel princess” who “does things her own way”, perhaps in vague hopes of her being less tyrranical to them than previous mewman queens.

there’s also her alliance with buff frog, and when you look at it, the monsters aren’t really shown [to the audience] to be implicitly “evil”. they’re either employed under someone, or just trying to make end’s meet with their shitty living conditions.

baby’s remark of “i haven’t seen anything like this since queen eclipsa” is not just about the magnitude of star’s magical power. it’s about her unorthodox ability to dual-wield its types, because she, unlike any queen except eclipsa before her, has had heavy involvement with and sympathy for monsters. “monster love”, as king river gravely adds after baby’s remark, seems to be the missing key to truly kickass magic.

Love Triumphs  Chapter 3: Barbecue

Jared Padalecki x Reader

1200 Words

Summary: AU (I love Gen, and love her with Jared.) Jared and Gen have split up, but are still friendly. You, the Reader have recently started acting on Supernatural, and have fallen in love with Jared. Both of you get hate due to the fact that you are much younger than he is.

Catch Up Here: Masterpost

Your face still sore, you kept the ice pack on as Jared drove the two of you to Jensen’s BBQ.  Zipping along the busy highway, Jared was humming slightly off key to the Pearl Jam song playing on the radio.

“I take it you’re a Pearl Jam fan.” You said, trying to take your attention off of your nerves and slightly aching cheek.

“Yep.” He answered, giving you one of his megawatt smiles. “My all time favorite band.”

“They are pretty cool.” You answered, but truthfully your favorite band was_________. It was the right thing to say however, because he started going on about his favorite song, and the time he fangirled so hard when he met them. By the time he was pulling up in front of a nice house, you were laughing, the ice pack laying forgotten in the cup holder.

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Thoughts on 249

I found this chapter pretty interesting. First I love the scene between Lory and Ren where they are bantering and Lory calls himself a mother figure. I’ve never really seen them be sweet to each other, so I really enjoyed seeing that side of their relationship.

I also like that Ren didn’t go irate. It shows progress. He was confused and upset, yes but I think he will figure out a way to confront Kyoko about this, or just swallow his emotions. If he confronts her, I would love to see him bust out Corn and ask her about it in a more roundabout way. Or maybe he despairs and talks to Bo about it… maybe a bit of both… that would be interesting… anyway….

We know for 100% sure now that Kimiko was the person who attacked Erika. I’m a bit disappointed at the predictability of this, but It goes to show a parallel between who Erika use to be and Kimiko. Erika did the same thing when she attacked Kanae to try to get the CM role. I’m starting to think we might see Erika joining the LoveMe section, Kimiko should probably come with her.

I am curious to see what Kimiko will do with the knowledge that Kyoko likes Ren. I can see maybe it lending realism to Kimiko’s acting if she becomes jealous of Ren and Kyoko’s relationship, especially since the two currently (and for who knows how long) share a manager. This could also be reversed, Kimiko might try to sabotage Kyoko by making it seem like Ren and her have a stronger relationship than they do. I dunno, maybe stage a fake phone call that Kyoko “happens” to overhear.

I am also curious if we might see Kyoko and Kanae paired up together where they once again aren’t allowed to plan out their scenes. I doubt it, but it would be interesting.

With Ren and Kyoko sharing Yashiro it brings in the hope that maybe they will work on a project together in the near future. We always have that hope, but how else can the man support two talents at once? Also, Kyoko will probably be having none of it. She is OK with Yashiro managing her because one, it’s temporary and two, he wasn’t able to be supporting Ren. I can see her berating herself to Lory saying she’s not important enough, etc.

First Sight (Grayson x Reader)

Summary: Request from anon: “your writing skills are amazing. if you haven’t already, it would be cool af if you made like an imagine about something like ‘how you met gray for the first time’ if you know what i mean lol. ILY”
Word Count: 1,327
Warnings: None.
A/N: Thank you babe for the request. I liked writing this one! Also fun fact, the record store thing is inspired by Pretty In Pink. This might not be what you had in mind, I’m sorry if I butchered your idea. Tell me if I did, anon! xx


The first time you saw Grayson was at a bowling alley. You were sitting with your friends in your booth, cheering whenever someone got a strike and laughing when the bowling ball missed the pins. He was with his brother and three other guys, being as loud as teenage boys were, causing a ruckus beside your lane. But you didn’t mind because it was a Friday and the music was loud enough to drown out most of their cheers and yells.

You had excused yourself, taking a quick break to head to the toilets because all those sodas were starting to affect you and when you came walking back, somehow you ended up walking into Grayson, him spilling his soda all over your arms. You couldn’t help the shriek that left your lips because the beverage was cold and it was so unexpected.

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Grain

by Saṃsāran  

All grains are grass seeds including wheat, rice, barley, rye, and corn. Now, oddly enough these seeds are evolved to be eaten but not by us. They are meant to be eaten by grazing animals. The grazers eat the grass but the seeds are indigestible so they come out as droppings in a ready made pile of fertilizer. 

Human beings had to figure out how to get the nutrition which is encased in that hard outer shell. First, we just parched it whole in a fire like we do to popcorn today.  Ötzi the 5000-year-old stone age European mummified man had a pouch full of parched grain presumably to use as high starch travel rations. Later we learned that we could boil the grains into porridge. After that, we learned we could separate the grain from the shell, grind it up into powder, mix it with water and bake on a hot stone as bread.

No new method of eating grain was invented for 5000 years until the Kellog brothers learned how to flake it so it could be eaten with milk.

Cornfield Child

Anonymous Submitted:

My mother grew up in a rural and quite remote Greek village surrounded by mountains and pine trees and she has never spoken to me much about her childhood days–this is the reason why:

My grandmother (mom’s mom) would wake up at dawn and head out to the corn fields working there til very late at night, since the family was large and mom was the smallest child my grandmother would take her to the fields as well sometimes to watch over here and make sure she was safe. One summer night, grandmother left mom in a small opening amidst the rows of corn to go fetch some water from a nearby stream. Mom was seven years old and she distinctly remembers a shadowy figure moving through the corn holding out a small doll made of corn leaves to her. Mom got up and started walking towards the figure who seemed to wave the doll just out of reach. She was just about to catch up to the doll when my grandmother returned, hoisted my mom over her shoulder and ran out of the fields as quickly as her legs could carry her.

Mom remembers that as they ran she could hear the wind loudly roaring in her ears even though it was a still night. Later on, around the time my mom was twelve she asked grandmother to tell her what she had witnessed in the fields that night. Grandmother revealed that the figure holding the doll was most likely the spirit of a little girl who had lost her way amidst the corn and was never found…the only proof that she had indeed died there was a small doll made out of corn leaves…

Let’s just say that when I visited mom’s village I stubbornly refused to set foot inside the corn fields at night.

Fuck Yeah Moderator Gracie: 5/10 What an interesting story thanks for sharing good thing your grandmother came just in time, Ugh I hate corn fields ever since in elementary school and i read the story Harold in Scary Stories To Tell In The Dark its made me scared of them.Thanks for the chills!

ohio gothic

sandusky and cleveland both got three inches of snow this morning. it’s june. nobody questions it.

someone from michigan says ohio is flat. you wonder if they know what the definition of flat is, or if you’re the one who doesn’t know. your middle school science teacher said that the glacier flattened both of your states but what if ohio is the one who doesn’t know what ‘flat’ means. is that hill actually flat? are there hidden mountains in michigan that only the locals know about? you eat your chili dog in silence.

there’s a national forest in your backyard. your dog has gotten you three tickets from the rangers. you wonder what’s so serious that it requires a ticket, but so insignificant that half the time it’s for less than $20. do the rangers have a quota?

he says he wants a threeway. you take him to skyline. he gets confused and you suffer the dawning realization that meant a threesome.

“what do you mean the entire state is covered in bike paths? how does that work?” you ignore the question and keep biking to the park.

no one cleans up roadkill. you have a pact with the vultures and the hawks. the roadkill is left for them and in return your pet cat doesn’t get snatched out of your backyard. you must still work a deal out for the dog.

you can’t decide if you want to go to pki or cedar point. someone mentions that it’s no longer pki. paramount is gone. you go to six flags.

north carolina tries once again to claim the wright brothers. you roll your eyes because now it’s just sad.

it hasn’t rained for a week. the grass is turning yellow, the sky is clear. if your dog doesn’t show fear, then you can’t either.

the forecast calls for eight inches of snow. you’ll get two inches or two feet. only time will tell whether it will be legal to drive during dinner.

the tornado sirens have started going off. you take your laptop to the basement and turn your music up.

you can’t remember if your state is more republican or democrat. you wonder if that’s what swing state means. or is that what belweather is? which church do you vote at this year?

thunder cracks up in the clouds, but the snow is muting the sound. it’s not as loud as the summer storms. your friend from out of state looks horrified by your thunder snow. you raise an eyebrow and eat another buckeye.

pennsylvania doesn’t complain about how bizarre their weather is either. you nod at each other over the heads of your amish.

you can never remember which actors are from ohio. they just don’t talk about it.

you have to go to columbus. you can’t remember if it’s safe to wear your bengals jersey or not. you opt for ohio state and wear a string of buckeyes just to be safe.

your new york friend is trying to figure out what’s growing in the corn field. “that’s not a corn field until next year. right now it’s soy.” they say nothing as you drive past thirty-seven cows and two horse farms.

“so what do you guys even have to do in your state? ohio sounds boring.” you remain silent as you think of how to explain local festivals and microbreweries.

So I kinda accidentally spurred a witch hunt for @wanderingcas the other day because of her taste in candy and I promised to make it up to her. I’m sorry, Sam. Please accept this fluff as an olive branch.

Dean has walked in on Cas doing a lot of weird things. 

Hanging dishes to dry, vacuuming his sheets, cursing at the bread ties, squirting toothpaste directly into his mouth.

Cas was a weird guy with a lot of weird habits, but Dean just rolled with it.

 But eating candy corn is where he draws the line.

“Cas, what the hell are you doing?”

The ex-angel’s head perks up from where he’s curiously leaning over a bowl of old Halloween candy, something orange and white-tipped in his hands.

He lips turn down in a guilty pout. “I thought you said it was okay to eat anything in the candy bowl except for the Snickers.”

Dean hurries to take the offensive triangle of sugar from Cas’s fingers before the man actually puts it in his mouth. “Yeah, Cas, but I didn’t mean you should eat the fucking candy corn.”

“What’s wrong with the candy corn?”Cas asks, eyeing the stolen piece Dean is now holding at arm’s length as if it might self-destruct. 

“It’s gross!”

“Oh, well, I found it quite tasty.”

Dean’s nose screws up and he barely resists gagging. “Oh, Cas, no! Candy corn is literally the lowest tier of candy in the candy hierarchy. No one actually eats this shit.”

Cas does his trademark head tilt. “Then why do they make it?”

“I look like Willie Wonka to you?” Dean scoffs. “I can’t believe you see a huge bowl of candy and you go for the fucking candy corn.”

“I apologize, Dean.”

Dean just shakes his head, figuring they’ll both be better off if they forget this little incident ever happened. “What else have you tried?”

“I’m afraid the candy corn was the first and only candy experience so far.”

“You’ve never had candy before?” Cas gives a little head shake and Dean is immediately lowering himself to the couch. “Oh, dude, you’re missing out. Okay, you gotta try some better stuff. First, the Smarties.”

Dean pulls a roll from the bowl and turns the ends to release a few pills. 

Cas squints at them when Dean drops them in his palm. “Just put them in and chew,” Dean instructs. 

Cas obeys and Dean watches closely as Cas begins to nibble, eyes closing against the sour assault to his tastebuds and Dean can’t help chuckling. 

“Those are not pleasant,” Cas decides when he finishes.

“Okay, so sour is out. Let’s just move straight to the good stuff. Chocolate.” Dean wriggles his brows and begins to open a full-sized Twix. “Okay so this is like a little cookie covered in caramel and chocolate.”

“That sounds good,” Cas says and takes the bar, taking it right to his lips.

“Cas, no!” Dean says, yanking the candy bar away.

Cas’s eyes widen. “What’s wrong?”

“You can’t just shove the whole damn thing in your mouth. Are you an animal?” He takes the wrapper all the way off and snaps the bars apart. “It comes in two for a reason. Here.”

Cas takes the bar Dean offers, a little more hesitant this time, and lifts it to his mouth to take a small, clean bite.

Dean bites into his own, smiling around the caramel at the way Cas squints as he chews and deliberates. It’s cute.

“I like this one,” Cas says at last.

Dean smirks. “Better than candy corn?”

Cas returns the grin, his a little resigned. “Much.”

They try some more, Cas carefully tasting and judging each piece of chocolate.

Butterfingers are okay.

Almond Joys are abomination.

Reese’s are a gift from God. 

Cas is still gushing about the wonders of peanut butter and chocolate when Dean pulls the telltale red wrapping of a KitKat from the bowl. “This is pretty similar to the Twix, but there’s no caramel and the cookie is crispy or whatever. Pretty good.”

Cas has the sense to break the bars in two this time and he bites off half. His frown deepens this time. “This one is not as good.”

Dean’s head snaps back, face disbelieving. “You don’t like KitKats?” 

Cas chews a little more before handing the rest of his candy bar to Dean. “No,” he finalizes. “It’s boring.”

All Dean can do is shake his head with disapproval. “I don’t know what I ever saw in you.”

The couch shifts as Cas’s shoulders are thrown back. “You saw something in me?”

Blood rushes to Dean’s face and can’t bring himself to look at Cas’s face, which seems closer than it had been a minute ago. Much closer.

“I-it’s not, um, y-you- you should try the, ugh, you need to to try a Snickers.”

Dean grabs for the piece of candy, nearly sending the bowl off the table, and tosses it into Cas’s lap. 

Cas is still for a long moment and Dean can feel his stare but he doesn’t look up, just prays and waits for this to pass. And it will pass — they always do.

He hears the crinkling of the wrapper as Cas rips it open and a few seconds later there’s a softened crunch. It’s the only sound between the two of them for almost a full minute and Dean doesn’t breathe.

“I like this one,” Cas says at last, deep voice startling Dean into a sharp inhale. “This is your favorite, correct?”

Dean gives a nod, not trusting himself with words. 

There’s a pause, Cas waiting for Dean to chime in but he can’t. So Cas continues, “It’s very good, Dean, though I’m not sure it surpasses candy corn.”

Dean looks up then because that is the craziest thing Cas has ever said, and he’s about to tell the man off but he catches Cas’s sly smile and he stops.

“Gotcha,” Cas says with a wink and Dean can’t help the laughter that bubbles from his chest.

“Very funny, Cas,” he says, hiding his soft smile in his lap. He gestures to the bowl. “So… which one is your favorite?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t think I’ve tried it yet.”

“What? Cas, you’ve literally eaten every-”

The movement is quick and completely unexpected and for a second Dean doesn’t understand why his lips can’t move. Then he registers the foreign warmth slipping into his mouth, the heady taste of peanuts and chocolate and a hum that makes his brain short circuit.

Then it’s gone and Dean can only blink, a pair of smiling pink lips coming into focus before his gaze flicks up to pools of blue, looking equal parts excited and scared. 

“That one,” Cas says. “That’s my favorite.”

And maybe it’s the sugar, but suddenly Dean is vibrating with energy, like there’s sunlight in his veins, and he launches forward, tackling Cas on a pile of candy wrappers as he tastes his lips for the second time.

“Mine too.”

3

You didn’t bother looking where your hand was going, you figured you would feel the pop corn and just grab it. Your hand was reaching out carefully while you were still watching the movie, and landed somewhere hard, and thick I might say. You were confused, your hand never leaving the place, and you turned your head to a giggling Clint. You followed his gaze and widened your eyes as soon as you saw it was on his crotch. “Oh my God, I’m so sorry!” You gasped, feeling your cheeks get hot. “It’s okay. I didn’t mind.” He said still laughing, making you blush even more. You turned around again to see if the others saw that, but they were too focused on the TV.

4

Favorite ROMITRI Moments: Last Sacrifice - Chapter 11
Fugitives - Rubysville Public Library

[…] He scanned the shelf twice and then pulled out a large, bright-colored one entitled 100 Best Places to Visit in the World.

We sat down cross-legged on the floor, and he handed me the book. “No way, comrade,” I said. “I know books are a journey of the imagination, but I don’t think I’m up for that today." 
"Just take it,” he said. “Close your eyes, and flip randomly to a page.”

[…] “Mitchell, South Dakota?” I exclaimed. Remembering I ws in a library, I lowered my voice. “Out of all the places in the world, that makes the top hundred?”

He was smiling again, and I’d forgotten how much I’d missed that. “Read it.”
“‘Located ninety minutes outside of Sioux Falls, Mitchell is home to the Corn Palace.’” I looked up at him in disbelief. “Corn Palace?”

He scooted over next to me, leaning close to look at the picture “I figured it’d be made of corn husks,” he noted. The pictures actually showed what looked like a Middle Eastern–or even Russian–style building, with turrets and onion domes.
“Me too.” Reluctantly, I added, “I’d visit it. I bet they have great T-shirts.”
“And,” he said, a sly look in his eyes, “I bet no guardians would look for us there.”

I made no attempts to conceal my laughter, imagining us living as fugitives in the Corn Palace for the rest of our lives. My amusement brought us a scolding from a librarian, and we quieted as Dimitri took his turn. San Paolo, Brazil. Then my turn: Honolulu, Hawaii. Back and forth we passed the book, and before long, we were both lying on the floor, side by side, sharing mixed reactions as we continued our “global tour of the imagination.” Our arms and legs just barely touched.

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                    SHE’S BEAUTY, SHE’S GRACE,
                  SHE’LL PUNCH YOU IN THE FACE

Tulip art inspired from this aesthetic~
Chilling on the hood of (definitely stolen) the car in the middle of a corn field, kicking ass and punching bad guys in the face. 
I’ll just keep drawing these aesthetics and trying my best to capture their beautiful moods and little things Tulip :’)

Gregory Violet headcanons

For @pipermccloud :)


- His favorite works by Shakespeare include Cymbeline and Troilus and Cressida. While history regards them as “problem plays” because they lurch wildly between tragedy and comedy, Violet sees them as a realistic portrait of the world. People don’t live in a defined constraint of “tragedy”, “comedy”, or “romance” but a melange of all three. As a result, he sees these two plays as among Shakespeare’s best. 

- Violet is part of the aristocracy. His father, Samuel Emerson Violet, is the Viscount Lisle and his late mother, Lady Constance, was the daughter to the earl of Whitehall. He has no siblings and his only sister, Desdemona, died in infancy.

- Gregory first met Edgar Redmond at one of the many soirees thrown by the latter’s uncle, the Viscount Druitt. Not particularly fond of large crowds, Violet slunk away to the moonlit gardens and began to sketch. Sometime later, Lord Edgar appeared (having gone to the gardens to escape the attentions of a particularly abrasive young lady who was determined to become the next Lady Redmond) and quite literally ran into Violet. Midway through their mutual apologies, Edgar caught sight of what Violet was sketching and asked if he would take on a commission:

“My word, these are tremendous!” Edgar—ever the patron of art and beauty—took in Violet’s sketches with a keen look of admiration. “Have you studied under a master?”

“…No.”

“Well you hardly need to! These drawings…they evoke a sort emotion that simply can’t be learned.” He mused, glancing back down at the sullen faced stranger, and saw in his eyes—once glazed over with boredom—a look of slight curiosity. Ah-ha! Edgar chuckled, it takes art to get through to him. “I don’t suppose you’d be willing to take on a challenge, would you?” He inquired blithely, an easy smile appearing on his handsome face. 

The man’s expression changed, now a mixture of inquiry and mild annoyance. “What sort of challenge?”

“Portraiture.”

“Of you?”

“Mmh…I’ve been told that the fairness of my image presents something of a luxury to portrait painters.” He attempted to infuse a sense of modesty to his words but when one has been cooed and cosseted upon as the “handsomest subject in all portraiture”—well. It made humility a tad difficult.

Violet ignored him. “Who then?”

Edgar hid a smile—oh Lawrence was going to kill him for this. “An old friend of mine—his father owns half of England’s banks.”

“How impressive.” He sounded bored.

“Yes—but the trick, my good sir, is to draw his portrait while he’s not looking.”

“…”

“You’ll have to sketch from afar and pray he doesn’t see you.”

“And what if he does?” The man inquired, rising from the ground, a look of interest—and faint amusement—glittering in his dark violet eyes.

“Then we’ll have to find another way to torment old Lawrence.” The blonde chuckled fondly, handing Gregory back his sketchbook while the dark haired man looked at him, a strange sense of kinship beginning to take over.

(And thus began Edgar and Violet’s friendship.)

- Violet’s actually quite athletic. He just prefers literature and art to cricket and rugby.  

- He doesn’t dislike people and is, in fact, one of the most insightful men you’ll ever meet. He just dislikes the fact that people have forgotten what it’s like to simply enjoy one another’s company without filling the air with useless chatter.

- He often blends mathematics and art together so he can get the proportions and dimensions of a figure just right. As a result, Violet was actually one of Weston’s best geometry students (alongside Edward).

- Don’t let his slight form fool you—out of the four of them, it’s Violet who can outdrink almost everyone and still remain relatively coherent.

- The first Halloween Redmond, Bluewer, Violet, and Greenhill spent together after becoming friends is one of their most memorable. Violet designed and made his own costume, going as Sir Mordred right after he’d been defeated by King Arthur in the Battle of Camlann. He used fake blood (made of corn syrup and food dye) and realistically painted wounds and bruises all over his face and arms. When he showed up at the Redmond mansion, Greenhill answered the door and screamed, thinking Violet had been in a genuine accident. He knocked over a suit of armor which tipped over the punch bowl, spilling punch all over Bluewer whose glasses then fell off, causing him to run into Redmond and send him flying into the 12 layer Halloween cake. It was the first time any of them had seen Violet genuinely smile.

- While quiet and reserved, Violet can be very sweet. When he learned that Lawrence’s youngest sister, Evangeline, was sick with the measles, he drew a picture of her on a summer’s day, sitting in the grass and holding a newborn fawn. He sent the picture over to the Bluewer mansion complete with a letter of address and a red wax seal because “All little girls want to feel important, don’t they?”

- Gregory’s father is somewhat disappointed that his only son and heir prefers art to combat. As a former commodore, he’d hoped Gregory would follow in his footsteps and pursue a career in the navy.

- Violet was the only one (out of the S4) to see Lizzy at the Sphere Music Hall.

- Violet is quite musical. He learned how to play the piano, violin, and clarinet as a child because his mother, Lady Constance, was convinced her son would become the next Mozart. He quit composing and playing altogether after his mother died.


I hope this is alright! :) 

I'm Struggling with Nursing, And I Feel Awful About It

I’m feeling very discouraged. I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, I’m exhausted, and I don’t know how to move forward.

I don’t enjoy breastfeeding and I don’t want to be doing it. There, I said it. And I feel so fucking guilty, because I can produce milk and so many women want to that can’t, and because I did nurse Isaac for so long. I stuck through all the hard parts with him, I owe it to Fiona to do the same. But I’m struggling. I’m struggling with the physical sensation. It makes me want to crawl out of my skin. Despite the tongue & lip tie release and expensive lactation consultant, we still have some issues with her latch. I’m also struggling with the lack of a break, of not being able to share the load with my husband or swap kids to spend time with Isaac, because I’m the only one who can feed her. I’m struggling with having to shop and cook for my family while having an increasingly limited scope that I can eat myself because of food intolerances. Having to scour labels. Do research. Refusing offers from people to eat at their house or go out to a restaurant or just grab a convenient snack or easy frozen dinner, because I can’t fucking eat anything. Then I feel selfish for these thoughts.

The formula we would need for Fiona is prohibitively expensive for us. Yes, I could theoretically, possibly, get our insurance to cover some of the cost. I should find the time (HAHAHAHA) to call them and inquire so that I at least know what is and isn’t covered. But that guilt, man. The guilt is looming like a tidal wave. Even if it was 100% covered, I feel like I’d be taking away something from my daughter; I’d be saying she is less important than Isaac because I stuck it out with him. But I’m also aware that having me anxious and depressed isn’t helpful to myself or my family, either. Would switching to formula really help that? I don’t fucking know, man. I don’t fucking know.

My boyfriend’s idea for the greatest Canadian movie ever: Prime Minister Justin Trudeau must ask an old friend for help, Brendon Lumberjack, just your average car mechanic. All the Canada is taken out of Canadian things, the poutine is just fries, the moose have turned into horses, the maple syrup is corn syrup. Only Brendon Lumberjack, the most patriotic man with heightened Canadian senses can figure out who’s trying to destroy Canada. It’s Stephen Harper, who’s really Steve-Bot, a robot that wants to destroy Canada. Brendon Lumberjack must face off with Steven Harper on a one on one short stick hockey game. The fate of Canada and timbits rests on Brendon Lumberjack’s shoulders.

New Year's resolutions:

-grow more corn than I did in 2015
-overthrow the thespian community
-organize all of my receipts just in case
-spend extra time tending to my sheep
-boycott Donald Trump
-educate my disappointing children on the dangers of the thespian lifestyle
-try not to be disappointed in my children

Title: Scared?

Author: @booksrockmyface

Rating: T

Summary: Peeta and Katniss continue their Halloween tradition of watching scary movies and trying to scare each other.


Peeta put the DVD in the tray and then settled in beside Katniss. Their Halloween tradition since they were just friends was to hang out all evening watching scary movies. They tried to watch new things every year.

And they also tried to scare each other every year.

It started this year with Peeta’s movie pick: The Shining. Katniss admitted to him that corn mazes freaked her out a little and she’d refused to go when he suggested it. He figured the hedge maze in the movie would be just as frightening.

“Oh, I’ve seen this a million times.” Katniss said as the movie started. She grabbed the bowl of popcorn and settled into Peeta’s side. “It’s one of Gale’s favorites.”

“Damn.” Peeta said under his breath.

She grinned. “Not scary anymore. Maybe the first time. Gale and I were only about nine. Everyone else was asleep and I snuck over to his house to hang out.” She threw a kernel in the air and easily caught it. “I ended up sleeping on Gale’s bed that night. He slept on the floor, but made him hold my hand.”

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