ʜᴀᴘᴘʏ ʙɪʀᴛʜᴅᴀʏ ᴋɪᴍ ɴᴀᴍᴊᴏᴏɴ — 19940912 A man who is Nurturing, Appreciative, Mature, Joyous, Observant, Openminded & Noble deserves only the best. Happy birthday our leader ♡ Thank you for being the catalyst and the beginning of the world’s best team. Thank you for being a person who thinks deeply, who reminds us of the world’s beauty amongst its hideousness. Thank you for showing us what’s worth and for guiding us in the direction of your heart. Thank you for being a sturdy leader, an unwavering soul and an emotional companion who inspires the people around him to do better. We respect you a lot and have a million ‘thank yous’ to say that cannot be put into words :’) Happy birthday our leader. We love you ♡.
Kelly had never experienced the feeling of the world falling out beneath her feet— and she sincerely wished that it had stayed that way.
“Y-You bet me?” she choked out, hands clenched over her heart as if she could stop it from falling out of her chest.
Walker frowned, gaze wavering somewhere between her head and the mirror behind them. His eyes had the haze of glitter in them, and Kelly knew that whatever he was looking at, it certainly wasn’t her.
“Don’t worry, I’ve got it handled,” he slurred, the right side of his mouth upturning crookedly in a way that she used to find cute. “I’ll just try again tomorrow, you’ll see. I’ll win this time for sure!”
“It doesn’t work that way!” Kelly cried out, and now her breath was beginning to hitch in a way that warned of incoming tears. Furiously, she scrubbed at her eyes, trying to hold them back.
Walker stepped forwards, hands outstretched as if he wanted to comfort her. But all she could see was the glimmer of shine in his eyes and the pallid texture to his face, and she couldn’t stand it.
“Don’t!” she ordered, stepping out of his grasp, anger overcoming her fear. “Don’t you dare try to touch me!”
He stopped, thankfully, but now an ugly sneer was painting his face.
“I said that I have it handled!” he snarled, hands curling into fists. “Why are you being such a bitch about this?”
Kelly was torn between wanting to cry or wanting to punch him in the face, but before she could decide, the choice was taken from her.
An arm settled casually across her shoulders, freezing her into place.
“Yo,” said the man who had his torso protruding halfway out of the mirror. “I’m here to collect.”
The Art of the Hunchback of Notre Dame: Quasimodo | Esmeralda | Frollo | Phoebus | Clopin (soon to follow)
A Celestial Creature
Although Hugo makes Esmeralda age sixteen in the novel, the Disney moviemakers matured her to somewhere in her twenties. Designed with an unruly mane of jet-black hair, a quality of having survived a hardscrabble life, and the carriage of a born leader, she marks a refinement and maturation of what writer Jonathan Roberts terms “the sentimental Disney heroine with big eyes.”
Alastair: You know, it was supposed to be your father. He was supposed to bring it on. But, in the end, it was you. Dean: Bring what on? Alastair: Oh, every night, the same offer, remember? Same as your father. And finally you said, “Sign me up.” Oh, the first time you picked up my razor, the first time you sliced into that weeping bitch… That was the first seal. Dean: You’re lying. Alastair: And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break.
Dean + heartbreaking scenes - 4x16 “On The Head Of A Pin”
“And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in hell. As he breaks, so shall it break. We had to break the first seal before any others. Only way to get the dominoes to fall, right? Topple the one at the front of the line. When we win, when we bring on the apocalypse and burn this earth down, we’ll owe it all to you, Dean Winchester.“
“Alastair: And it is written that the first seal shall be broken when a righteous man sheds blood in Hell. As he breaks, so shall it break. We had to break the first seal before any others, only way to get the dominoes to fall, right? Topple the one at the front of the line. When we win, when we bring on the Apocalypse and burn this earth down, we owe it all to you, Dean Winchester.”
Riding through the
prairie. Long grass blows in endless wind.
Jazz in a New York bar. Smoke
curls from the end of a cigarette. A woman with elbow-length gloves and lips as
red as blood.
Heat rising from cracked
tarmac. Endless blue sea and deserted streets. The yellow sign of the post office
is the only end in sight.
An Emerald City rising
from desert, but it is smoke and mirrors. It is illusion, and you are afraid.
The last mashtryoshka doll.
Unreal hands, and eyes
that no longer belong to you.
Dramatic music in the
background to strolling down a hill. Hair gusts in an unseen wind. An explosion
behind, and you don’t look back. You never look back.
“Can’t go on without you.”
Yet the world keeps turning, and children keep playing, and one day new children will be born to replace the ones who have grown.
Lancelot crept in
through Guinevere’s window. Blood on the sheets from his bandaged hand, and
golden hair falling around milk-soft skin. The sigh of lovers in the dark and a
kiss that tasted of coffee and regret.
Arthur would have burned
her for less.
A kingdom fell. At
Camlann, in flames, the horn sounded its last call. A man shed his son’s blood
for love of a woman, and the men who loved him in turn wept and followed to the
brink of oblivion.
Better to hope that no
one tells you how big empty is.
His side of the wardrobe.
A photo album full of
your friends, and not a single image of you.
The fog that fills your
Ships that float through
a hundred burning stars. The stars are falling.
We don’t want this, but
we suffer anyway.
Hair as black as a raven’s
wing, and the tower after the princess ran away to freedom – to a prison of a
At least the villains
We wanted pirates and
magic. We found changelings and fairy rings, and decks slippery with blood. It
is never as romantic as the stories make it sound. Why else do we need
storytellers, if not to rewrite the stories we cannot bear to remember?
Empty is too far, and
big is too abstract, for our brains to comprehend. Know only that stars burn,
and kings die, for far less than you.
In the past 24 hours I have watched 13x01 five times. The first 4 times I was with @tinkdw@amwritingmeta and @margarittet and I was relatively fine other than the single man tear I shed whilst Dean was wrapping Cas for the pyre.
I just watched it again at home on my own and it hit me. Watching this with friends removed me in a way from the emotion. You have the comfort of others around you and it keeps you grounded in reality.
Watching alone is a far more intimate experience. As soon as it gets to Dean’s prayer I felt an ache that was impossible to ignore. I could really feel Dean’s pain. When it got to the scene where he starts wrapping Cas and he pauses and desperately fights back his tears I just broke. Dean may have just about held it together but I didn’t. I cried and cried and couldn’t stop the stream of tears running down my cheeks. By Sam’s goodbye speech I was already a wreck. Dean’s poignant “Goodbye Cas” killed me.
There have been three previous occasions where SPN has made me cry. But never like this. I have never felt so attuned to Dean Winchester as in this moment. I felt Cas’s loss on a deeply profound level that I have never felt before. It has shaken me. Even the knowledge that he is coming back cannot stop how this episode has made me feel.
I think it may become one of my all time favourites just for the sheer magnitude of emotional weight. Jensen Ackles portrayed Dean’s emotional response so beautifully, so poignantly, that once again I am astounded at the talent of this man.
This truly was one of the best sequence of scenes I think SPN has ever given us.
My tears haven’t yet dried. I’m writing my meta review with blurry red eyes and trying to keep it together and all I can think is that even some of the heavier fanfiction hasn’t hit me like this. I am stunned.
That was a superb episode premier and I hope that the rest of the season continues to go in this direction.
For my lovely @werewolfbuckybarnes who introduced me to ThunderShield and honestly how did I not see how beautiful these two hotties would be together??
I love this so much I feel a little ridiculous, guys.
Steve let his shield drop with a clang, the metal stained and dirty, and collapsed onto the couch next to it with a groan. Why was it always some crazy other-worldly enemy attacking earth? Why couldn’t it be a jewelry store being robbed by an average criminal just once? Super soldier or not, getting thrown into buildings still left a hell of a bruise.
“Are you hurt?” Thor’s deep voice cut into his thoughts and Steve opened his eyes, trying to tamp down the thrill that went through him to see the Demi god still in full armor, hair wild, Mjolnir held loosely in one hand.
“Nothing a good nights sleep won’t fix.” He replied, scooting down the couch so Thor had room to sit.
“Surely our enemies are cursing the name of the mighty Captain America tonight. You fought well.” The big man grunted, and started shedding armor, the heavy pieces clanging off each other as they hit the ground, Mjolnir leaning against the couch looking remarkably unremarkable in the way only magic weapons could.
Clad only in his pants, Thor sat down right next to Steve, their thighs brushing together, and the Captain swallowed a little sigh. “I am glad you aren’t hurt, it would be a shame if you were too sore to enjoy the victory.”
“I suppose I’ll be alright for whatever post-mission drinking fest Stark has planned.” Steve agreed, and checked Thor over quickly, looking for any injuries.
Nope, none on those huge shoulders. His long hair was messy, but there was no blood or scrapes marring that strong jaw line or perfect nose. The golden skin across his chest was clear and smooth, muscles jumping and shifting as Thor settled back into the couch and–
Crap, I’m literally just staring at him. Steve realized, and tore his gaze away before Thor could see him flushing in embarrassment. Pull it together, Steve, come on!! he scolded himself, folding his arms across his chest like it would keep rampant thoughts from escaping.
“Perhaps…” Thor’s voice was thoughtful. “Perhaps we might have our own victory celebration, something smaller.”
“What?” Steve sent him a look, unwilling to get his hopes up, but oh man were his hopes already up. For weeks now, thoughts of the Thunder God had him waking in the middle of the night, twisting in his sheets, taking cold showers that didn’t help at all, and blushing and stammering anytime someone mentioned Thor’s hammer.
“We could retire to my floor.” Thor was saying, and Steve jerked himself back to the moment. “I have some Asgardian mead, and you are the only one who can handle a drink with me. Much more enjoyable than getting drunk by myself.”
“I could handle a drink or two.” Steve nodded quickly, nearly biting his tongue in half when Thor’s hand landed on his knee, squeezing lightly.
“There is something to be said for the rush of battle, isn’t there?” Thor mused, his hand moving in tiny increments up Steve’s leg. “The way your heart pounds, the way the blood thrums through your veins. It’ s difficult to turn off, leaving a man wanting to exchange one battle for another.”
Steve couldn’t answer, far too distracted by the way Thor’s thumb was rubbing in slow circles, moving higher each time.
“Of course, the benefit of surrounding yourself with warriors means we don’t ever have to turn off that side of ourselves do we? The lust for battle translates into a lust for…everything.”
Oh. Oh. Steve thought he could combust from the fire in Thor’s blue eyes. “I would think–” he licked his lips nervously and wanted to cheer when Thor’s gaze dropped to follow the motion. “I would think the other benefit of being around other warriors is that you don’t need to be…gentle? Or–or soft with each other? Not if the battle lust is still flowing through you? Just move it all from one place to… another?”
Thor groaned a curse in a language Steve didn’t recognize, and surged forward to seal their lips together—
—but the elevator door swished open and the rest of the team poured into the common area, chatting and laughing loudly, ready to start some music and order some food and blow off some steam.
Steve sat back against the couch abruptly, picking his shield up and holding it in his lap and Thor laughed quietly, the sound rumbling through Steve’ s body and making him ache.
“First we celebrate with the team.” he said quietly, “Then you and I discover a new way to fight, yes?”
“Fuck yes.” Steve breathed, and Thor’s lips curled in a smile.