more than i could ever say

Once upon a time there was a beast and a curse and an enchantress, which I’m sure surprises nobody. Better put it this way: once upon a time a girl was locked in a castle, and she begged so hard not to be the sleeping princess that she became the beast. That’s more like it, anyway — fairytale logic. You get what you wish for, but it isn’t what you want.

“Don’t let it be a prince,” she begged, “don’t let it be a kiss I can’t see coming and can’t refuse.”

Enchantresses, wicked fairies, call them what you will — they’re all the same story in the end. No one will remember if this enchantress began the story by giving the princess a naming day gift of a hundred year sleep once the tale switches to another track. The point is that she didn’t mind granting this one favor. Maybe it was an issue of statistics. Maybe she thought finding a girl who would fall in love with a princess-beast would be harder than finding a prince to kiss her, make her curse harder to lift (considering the probabilities of who might wander onto the cursed castle grounds). As if girls who love girls don’t know they have to fight harder to begin with, as if they won’t cross miles for each other.

So maybe there was a spindle once, but now there is a rose, and a girl who wanders through a thorn maze unable to find her way. This is the wrong story, she thinks to herself, clutching her leather satchel tighter, but she doesn’t know what the right story is.

“Let me through?” She suggests to the roses that grow squeezed between their own thorns along the twisting hedges. “I’m looking for the love of my life. I’m in a hurry.”

She’s met only with the rustling of leaves and haughty scoffs. “No prince ever found his true love by being in a hurry.”

“I’m not a prince. I’m a shoemaker, and I’m lost. Can you let me through to the castle?” It rises dark and spindly overhead, but though it seems so close she can see no way out of the maze.

Laughter, echoing through the hedge corridors, and then something dark prowls around the corner and half-crouches there, hidden as much as possible under a hooded cloak. Shining talons dig into the earth under their feet.

The beast says, “A shoemaker? You really are in the wrong story.” Her voice is gravely and doesn’t match the laughter. That must have been the roses as well.

“I have glass shoes,” the girl says, staring at those claws. “Or I can make something sturdier, if you give me time.”

“I don’t have enough time of my own to be giving it away,” the beast says, bored, and gestures around them. Even now the hedges seem to be encroaching further into the maze’s corridors, the roses growing and multiplying. One day soon, the girl realizes, the maze will entirely fill in, and the castle will be blocked off.

She’s clever, and she’s brave, and those are the two most important things for a fairytale heroine to be — besides pretty, but that’s easy enough to fake with the right kind of smile. “Then don’t give it to me,” she says, “we can share.”

So the beast reaches out one arm, fingers tapering into knives that she curls so gently they don’t more than scratch the girl’s skin — and the shoemaker takes it with an earnest gravity, looking right under her cloak’s shadow and into her eyes.

The beast’s eyes are unnaturally big and inhumanly shaped, but they’re not cruel, and in fairytales the evil beasts always have cruel eyes. The girl bobs a polite curtsey, using the beast’s arm for balance, and sees those eyes narrow slightly with amusement.

They walk through the twists and turns of the maze to the castle, the beast bent slightly so as not to tower over her guest. “About those shoes,” she says, when they reach the front doors, golden light spilling from the entrance hall and shining through the delicately carved details in the ancient wood.

“In the morning,” the girl says, and because she clearly has not even entertained the thought that she might be argued with, the beast cannot summon an objection. She watches the girl follow an unfurling carpet along the floor to a dusty guest room with no hesitation, as if every dwelling should be as accommodating.

And in the way of fairytales, that’s enough to make the beast fall in love — a disregard for every unspoken rule, a smile that glimmers in the darkness. Should I tell you that the moment the girl arrives at breakfast the next morning the beast can barely look away from her for a moment, that she stays by the girl’s side as she produces leather and tools from nowhere and searches floor by floor for the perfect room to work in — or should I let you imagine for yourself?

Gradually the hood is pulled back, eventually the cloak discarded altogether; they sit in patches of sunlight together to eat lunch, staring down at the maze below. Roses and leaves devouring each other and everything in slow motion.

“If you stay too long you’ll be trapped here,” the beast warns, anxious when the girls shows no concern in her usual solemn air as she watches the maze devolve.

“I haven’t finished your shoes,” is all she says. Each new morning she promises that in return for this latest night of hospitality she is making the shoes more beautiful, and each evening that she has not finished she stays another night.

Sometimes when the girl has gone to bed the beast sneaks back into the workroom, in agony over whether to rip out the stitches or finish the work for her.

Leave before you are trapped here forever.

Stay here forever because I love you.

Each night she does not touch the shoes and returns to sleep herself, and in the morning the girl thanks her for letting her stay, as if the beast could ever turn her out, and promises to repay the night with even more beautiful shoes.

And each morning the beast says, “That’s fair,” and wishes she could find different words, the words she means to say.

The maze grows. The roses are larger than hands with fully spread fingers. The corridors are barely large enough for a small girl to squeeze through. In the dawn light it is lit gently and slightly pink, but the sight of it is painful. The wide window of the workroom shows the progress the maze had made alarmingly clearly, and it’s only then that the beast wonders if that was the appeal of this room over all the others.

The girl appears silently in the doorway as she has for the past week. “Thank you for letting me stay last night. I’ll repay you—”

“No,” the beast says, her voice alarmed and rough. “No. You are leaving now.”

“Now?”

“Before you can’t leave. You must go now.” Her throat is closing up and her voice growing thicker with each word. They’re not the words she wants to say.

The girl cocks her head, a curiously nonjudgmental silence. Finally she crosses the room to her worktable and picks up the shoes, turning them around and around again. They’re boots, really, and almost comically big in her hands. The beast cannot tell if they are as beautiful as she was promised, because the girl is smiling now and that eclipses all else.

“Are they finished?” She asks.

“Yes,” the beast says, unable to choke out anything more.

The girl leaves the boots on the table and swings her satchel, out of nowhere, across her shoulders. “Thank you for sharing your time,” she says. For a moment she holds the beast’s hand in both of hers, and then she’s gone. From the window the beast can watch her leave; for all her trouble getting there, she finds her way out with ease.

She leaves the workroom and doesn’t return all day.

Do beasts grieve? She hadn’t thought they could. She hadn’t grieved when the curse was settled on her; she hadn’t grieved at the idea that it might never lift once the maze finally knit itself together during the coming night. But the loneliness she feels now was different. The absence of the shoemaker is something worse. She’d had no choice in her fate, but she had told the girl to leave. This misery she’d brought on herself.

At night she wanders back into the workroom out of habit, sleepless and hopeless and refusing to glance out the window. Has it happened yet? Is she truly trapped now, or will it happen in five minutes, an hour, at dawn? She stares at the boots for an indeterminable amount of time before she thinks of putting them on.

She does so only because she thinks the girl wanted her to wear them; left to her own devices she might have destroyed them with as little thought as she now gives to slipping them on. They are big enough, and the fasteners are easy to close even with her unwieldy claws. Designs etched into the leather yet invisible in the darkness spiral and branch out beneath the thumb-pad she runs over them. Vines, she thinks. Roses.

A tear slips out, or three, as she stands in her beautiful new boots and smells leather and rotting roses. I want her back, she thinks, even as a wave of thankfulness rises up from the deepness in her, thankfulness that the shoemaker will never feel this trapped. I want to go to her, she revises. Since she doesn’t know how, she goes to leave the workroom instead.

One step and darkness is rushing past her. The rough scrap of stone walls, the rustle of leaves and the tearing of thorns, night air soft all around her. She has stepped not into the hallway but out of the castle, beyond the maze, into the star-dappled night.

“What did you do?” She asks, alarmed, almost before she sees the shoemaker sitting cross-legged on the grassy hill, as still as if she has been waiting all day and night. “What happened?”

“I found what I came for,” the girl says calmly. “And I made her shoes.”

Imagination Lane // “Imagine This” Scenario #2: Bill Skarsgard

Originally posted by thebeautyandthatbass

(Warning: This is slightly long for an imagine scenario, but I couldn’t help but write this out. I’m also in a sappy Bill mood, and I needed this as soon as the idea struck me last night as I laid in bed trying to get to sleep. Shame on me lol.)

If you want to know what The First Fight Box is and what it entails, click here.

Imagine This: You and Bill have entered into your first serious argument as a married couple. A few months back, on your wedding day, you both created what you called “The First Fight Box,” and slipped letters inside for you both to read – when the time came. 

Today, you both have agreed to a small cease-fire within your heated argument and decided to open the box…


Keep reading

show-me-heaven  asked:

Yes please to nr 13. 🙏🏼 if ur still doing it. 😊

Oh yes, there’s nothing I love more than sleepy cuddles! Thank you! 

Send me a cuddle prompt

#13 Falling asleep

This is Even’s favourite Isak. 

Not that he’d ever say that to all the other Isak’s he knows: the teasing little shit, the oddly philosophical, the cranky asshole. He loves them all with a fierceness that surprises even him, not realizing he could feel an emotion stronger than the ones he’d already felt. 

But, there is something about Isak as he falls asleep. 

He’s always trying to snuggle closer, murmuring that he’s cold as he slips his hand into the hand Even’s resting on his waist. He lets Even say things like my angel, claiming he’s too tired to rolls his eyes. He lets some thoughts slip out that he’d usually talk himself out of sharing. 

“Even?”

Even strokes his back, kisses his cheek, fucks up his hair. God, he can’t help himself. He just really fucking loves him. “Mm?”

“You said something tonight. With the guys.”

“I said many things, Isak. I was hilarious tonight.”

“You were ok. But no, it was when Mahdi started giving us shit for loving each other too much or whatever, and you said that there’s no way I always like you?”

Well, that is true. Even doesn’t like himself some days, so. 

“And it’s not–you’re wrong, ok? I always like you. Even when you’re annoying, you’re still Even. And that’s–wow, you know? Even.”

Even laughs, smiling as Isak mirrors his own expression. “Wow, huh?”

“Yeah. I’m tired, ok?”

He is. His eyes close and his breath steadies as Even continues to soothe him with touches, whispers, and kisses.  

Even smiles down at his boyfriend, his usually-jumbled mind clearing to only one thought. 

Wow. Isak. 

food break

The break room was swarming with people surrounding the stars. It seemed to you like a honeybee colony pushing and pulling to get to touch the queen bee. Stylists were taking last quick thorough glances at the outfits as makeup artists tried to sweep more powder and hairstylists sprayed more hairspray. Water bottles were sprayed everywhere in the room and there were more makeup brushes on the tables than you could ever use in your entire life.

The only one left alone was Yoongi. A small smile crept up almost touching your ears as you saw him enjoying his lunch. As the Bangtan Bomb recorder you took your camera and fixed the lens while approaching the calmly unaware prey. As you got closer you thought he didn’t see you at all, but at that moment he lifted his head. You zoomed in and smiled at his uninterested expression. You didn’t say anything but played with the angles.

“As of now I, Min Yoongi, am having lunch and I don’t want to be filmed.” He sounded too sarcastic to be actually pissed, but he had ruined the shot. You lowered the camera with a pout and looked at the male in annoyance.

“Aah, seriously… why do you have to be like this?” You laughed as the pout melted away.

“I just want to enjoy my meal in peace,” Yoongi whined, but a smile tugged at his lips. You couldn’t take him seriously when he was looking so distraught.

“I know. It was just an excuse to get close to you.” Meekly admitting you lower your gaze to the floor and fiddling with the camera lens. Yoongi smiled at that and revealed his teeth in a dazzling smile. You were completely under his spell when he laughed. Staring at him you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. His laughter gradually died down and he stuffed another piece of chicken into his mouth.

“This is good. Do you want some?”

You look at him and quickly shake your head. Your hair became a mess again, but you didn’t care.

“I already ate at home.”

Another bite goes into his mouth. “You know, I should really film you. I need something for a Bangtan Bomb,” you pleaded and adjusted the camera to your eye. Yoongi sighed but nodded his head in defeat. The red dot started blinking, and Yoongi turned his gaze away from the nuisance. Motioning him to start talking, you nodded.

You kept looking at his eyes and lips as he spoke. He looked mesmerizing in a black shirt and messy hair. After talking about this and that you ended filming. Tucking the camera into its bag you sat down next to him and stole a piece of chicken. He whined in protest but let it happen.

“You know a thought just came to me.” You nodded but weren’t really listening. You were too busy stealing his chicken.

“What would you say if we grabbed coffee some day? Just you and me.” Your hand stopped halfway to the plate at his words.

“I’ve noticed how you always stare at my lips when you film. I figured you liked me,” Yoongi chuckled and spared a glance your way before stuffing his mouth with more chicken.

post by @mvssmedia

original source by BANGTANTV

@taylorswift I meant to say so much more to you than I actually did, but I know I could have talked to you for hours. I’ve been going through a really difficult state of depression. It fades in and out, ever since high school, which I’ve been out of since 2015. I really just want to thank you for being there for me when no one else was, and for hugging me so tightly when I met you. I actually started crying again because I wish I could hug you whenever I need cheering up. You make your fans so happy and you treat everyone like your best friend. I actually just thought of a different pose idea, but I’m so happy to have been invited and have met you. My anxiety has really been getting to me lately, but for one night all that seemed to have gone away. I will remember this night forever and always. I explain more of this in the letter I wrote you and have to Taylor Nation. Now I am just waiting for my picture so I can commemorate this incredible, sparkling night. I love you so much, doll. You are an angel. ❤️

This photo was taken two months before actually going inside your house.

“me too”
two little words became a rallying cry
a scream of solidarity
they’re louder than any “you’re not alone” could ever begin to shout
i look to my left, to my right
and see both hands being held by someone uttering those two words

“me too”
hurts to hear
more than their hands, their mouth, their body ever could
i wouldn’t wish this pain on anyone else
not even my worst enemies
i wouldn’t ever want to hear another person say

“me too”
is said far too often
by far too many
and it’s goddamn time we stop teaching how to dress
or how to stay safe
and start teaching that “no” means “no”
that nothing justifies violating another
that it should sicken and anger you to know how many people will say

“me too”
are you listening to us?
do you hear what we’re saying?
are you saying it too?
and if you’re not
thank god for that
but i hope that means instead you’re saying

“enough is enough”

(cc, 2017)

Have you ever had someone lay their fingers along the spaces between your ribs and squeeze? Really find those fleshy bits between the bones and just curl into them? I have. The thing is, you can’t help your natural reflex in reaction to that strange, visceral, intrusive feeling. Your body knows, “hey, I don’t think I should be touched there!” and so it flails wildly, almost manically, to protect your most vital organs, even if there’s no real threat.

My wife loves the spaces between my ribs, but has kindly refrained from squeezing them since I’ve asked her to stop. Still. I’m a nervous person, and the guard just goes up sometimes – can’t help it.

The other night, we were laying in bed and cuddling, and I was about on the brink of passing out while baby lay curled over me. Her hand rested on my chest, her head lay nestled between my shoulder and my chin, and I was smelling her hair – a vague scent of shampoo, still a little wet from the shower. Everything felt warm and right and peaceful, but for the fact that (as exhausted as I was) baby was like a shaken up soda can of hyperactive lesbian. She was happily chatting away when her hand traveled a little lower, then circled around my side and her fingertips moved into those vulnerable little dips.

“Noooooooo,” I whined, and I yanked her hand away.

“But I can’t sleep!” She protested, laying her leg over mine and lifting her head to give me that wide-eyed, entreating look. “I won’t squeeze! I just want to count your ribs! It’s soothing.” I can never deny her anything when she gives me that look. (She has very long eyelashes and very blue eyes. It’s my kryptonite.)

So I let her hand go, cautiously, and relaxed a little bit. She teases and jokes, but she never lies to me, so I knew she’d at least stop herself from squeezing even though I know how much she loves it. She moved her hand back over to my rib cage and I took in a breath.

“You know,” I offered as her fingertips began to dance gently over each individual rib, “you could count sheep instead.”

And baby chuckled lowly, snuggling closer, warm and soft and sweet. And then she proceeded to say the most terrifying thing I’ve ever heard come out of her mouth, in a voice that sounded like it should have been wafting inexplicably down the halls of an abandoned building.

“There are no sheep here,” she whispered, “but there are plenty of your bones.”

And somehow that simple statement was more instinctively horrifying than the feeling of fingers in the spaces between your ribs. Turns out, it inspired the same reaction. I flailed, and she laughed and laughed and laughed until I was laughing too.

It took us both a while to go to sleep.

6

Sweet talk
Everything you say
It sounds like
Sweet talk to my ears
You could yell
“Piss off! Won’t you stay away?”
It’ll still be
Sweet talk to my ears


so i think that’s as much of this as i’ll ever do. the glowy stuff kinda got outta hand but i really love it so

BARRY J. “BAROLD” BLUEJEANS

When the light fades, the column and the shadowy beings who climbed out of it are gone, and hovering where it once stood is Lup, phantasmal and resplendent, her outstretched palms still coated in flame.

Barry walks over to her, and he’s — shaking, and he says, “Lup, when I was a lich, I knew you were gone. And it was more than I could bear. And when I was alive, I didn’t know you’d ever existed which was more than I could bear, I didn’t… I— I knew I’d see you again, I… I wanna… I’m gonna— I’m gonna blow myself up just so I can be a lich and h-hold you again. H— hold on.”

(inspired by x)

VIRGO: So, you’re finally figuring out where the pieces of your life are supposed to fit together and ‘relief’ is a bit of an understatement. There was a time in which your existence felt a lot like trying to finish a puzzle while blindfolded: all of the parts within reach yet, still so far away. But you kept going and you found yourself again and I hope that you’re proud. I hope that when you go to sleep at night you feel comfortable with your decisions and all of the things you’ve been strong enough to overcome. I can’t promise that you won’t find yourself faced with broken things in need of fixing again, but I can promise that you’ll be able to put it back together. You always do.

LIBRA: It seems like every time you leave the house nowadays you brace yourself for impact, which is another way of saying that you’ve had to abandon being soft in order to survive. You’ve had to use your voice to ask for things that your earlier self would’ve shoved under the carpet. And while that’s definitely something to be proud of, the strength you’ve found within yourself, don’t let that close you off to all of the joy that accompanies being kind and open. It’s possible to stand your ground with open palms; asking for what you deserve and embracing the gentler aspects of life aren’t mutually exclusive. They never will be unless you let them.

SCORPIO: I know that it’s hard to refrain from comparing yourself to every person you meet, but you have to remember that not everybody has had the same background as you. Not everybody understands the feeling that comes with being told you’re not good enough, or the feeling of realizing that the people you thought were friends had been bringing you so far down that your back was flat against the floor. You haven’t fallen behind or lost your way just because you’ve had to take a few detours in order to find yourself. You’re trying your best, and your best is more than good enough. Someday you’ll be grateful that you kept on fighting.

SAGITTARIUS: Recently you felt the spark that can only ever mean something is beginning; it’s unfortunate that sometimes this also indicates that another thing is ending. And while that’s typically sad, an event you’re bound to mourn, every closed door is an opportunity to turn yourself around and have an experience that you wouldn’t normally. Eras will end as you continue to grow into yourself, and that doesn’t mean that they’re THE end. Be self-aware and work some more on loving yourself as you embrace these fresh starts and their accompanying lifestyle changes; there’s nothing shameful about being a fan of yourself.

CAPRICORN: One of the hardest things you’ll ever have to learn is that sometimes people leave and there isn’t a reason or a motive behind it, they just go. And that doesn’t mean that you did anything to instigate this, or that you push where others pull; it just means that because of whatever external reason, something wasn’t quite right. There’s no reason to make lists of all the people that you feel you’ve driven away when there are others beside you that are supportive, wanting only to shower you in the affection that you dole out so generously. The way that your peers choose to exit your life is always going to be a choice that they make themselves. You are not a burden.

AQUARIUS: You don’t have to treat every beautiful thing that waltzes into your path as if it’s temporary, bound to disappear as soon as you look away. I know that it’s hard to take good fortune with anything other than a grain of salt after everything you’ve lost, but perpetually being in a state of worry when you have no reason to be so is ridiculous. Your potential for happiness is so much greater than you’re allowing yourself to have. There aren’t limits or rules when it comes to the progress you make and the people you invite into your life. If you spend all of your time walking on eggshells, you’ll never able to leave your mark. Be bold. Be genuine.

PISCES: You’ve been taking happy vibes to the next level lately and that’s nothing to be ashamed of. I know occasionally you start thinking that maybe you don’t deserve to be feeling this light, or that there are more pressing aspects of your life that you should be devoting your attention to, but what you’re doing right now is more than okay. It’s encouraged, in fact. Try not to hold yourself to a higher standard than you would hold the people that you love to. The perfectionist that shows up within you very once in awhile to make unnecessary comments about your progress isn’t the boss of you, you’re the boss of it. Allow yourself to be happy without any strings attached.

ARIES: It always takes time to adjust to a situation that you’ve never been in before, especially when you’re doing it all by yourself. Don’t forget that you’ve seen and conquered cities much bigger than this one. I know that everything in you wants to make a snap judgement regarding whether or not you like the direction you’re walking in, but try to refrain from doing so too soon as it could change your perception of an otherwise lovely experience. Give this road a chance before re-routing and switching courses altogether. Listen to your gut, you know more than anybody else what will benefit you most in the long run.

TAURUS: Are your days really blurring together, or are you so afraid of feeling something new that you’re hiding behind the safety of monotony? Sure, you’re stuck in more than a couple of ways, nobody’s denying that you’ve faced more than your share of quicksand. But something you should consider is how your actions play into that. I think there’s a sort of comfort in being stationary, as you know exactly what to expect, but I also think that you deserve a better quality of life than you’re currently getting and some of the responsibility for changing that rests on your shoulders. Try something new this month and see what happens next.

GEMINI: The heat of summer has peaked and descended and you’re finally able to leave the house without getting burned. This means that it’s time to refamiliarize yourself with your surroundings, because in the midst of life and all its trials I think you’ve forgotten about what’s in front of you. Examining the ground that your feet touch day after day, with eyes that are wise and observant and actually looking, can lead to revelations about yourself. I know that you’ve felt the holes in your life as of late and you’ve been looking for something to fill them, and the materials to do this are closer than you think. You might already be holding them.

CANCER: It’s really easy to overthink your choices when you’ve become accustomed to exposing the soft parts of yourself only to be handled roughly and without the right amount of care. And yet despite your history of hurt you’re still choosing to try again, which says a lot more about you than other people’s actions ever could. Nobody is going to hate you for laying bare your heart and soul, and if they do then that means they don’t deserve to see it anyways. You are allowed to feel proud of your accomplishments and you’re allowed to be vocal about it. Don’t be hesitant with self praise and accepting it from others. Everyone’s rooting for you.

LEO: Your environment lately has been hectic, to say the least, and that’s starting to take a toll on you more than you can probably see. I know that it feels as though you don’t have time to take a break, and that in order to cross-off every task on your never-ending to-do list you need to constantly be on the run, but that’s just your anxiety talking. While time is a constant wave that we’re all riding, that doesn’t mean you can’t lay back and enjoy the view as you float. Caring for yourself will never be detrimental to your progress, as the health of your mind and body are crucial when it comes to success. Give yourself a break for not being a superhero.

You always used to tell me that I would never have to apologize to you for anything I could ever say or do because that was ‘me’, and you loved what came from me when I was truly being myself…
Yet here I am when it’s all said and done apologizing to you anyway because despite how genuinely ‘me’ I was with you, it still wasn’t enough to make you stay… And I don’t think there’s anything in my life I’ve ever been more sorry for than that.

It’s something he was planning on saying all night but had been trying to hold in simultaneously. Now he says it, like breeze.

“Stay here tonight.”

Castiel turns around and looks at him. Dean thought he’d never see him again, but he’s back. Alive and real and Cas. Dean feels like he’s been constantly out of breath ever since Cas returned that morning, suddenly on the doorstep of Dean’s motel room.

Dean can’t quite seem to settle, unable to keep his eyes from Castiel. One moment, and he could fade.

“Why?” Castiel asks, curious more so than confused.

“Because,” Dean manages, “…because you’ve been gone, alright? You were dead, and we…. I thought we would never see you again. And I-” Dean’s voice falters. He walks over to Castiel and stands in front of him, his eyes gliding over his face. Every inch of him is real, solid, not like the dreams he’d been having. 

Sam and Dean had been getting separate rooms ever since Dean was awake for hours every night and just paced around the room aimlessly. When Dean slept, he’d been having dreams of Castiel being alive and he’d wake up and realize it wasn’t real. He’d rather not sleep than go through that every single night. But this, he wasn’t going to let this be a dream as well.

“Take off your coat, come on.” When Cas just frowns again, Dean does it himself. He slides the beige coat from Castiel’s shoulders and drapes it over the back of a chair.

“Dean, I’m fine with sleeping in the other motel room.”

“I’m not.” Dean rasps. “Please, Cas, don’t go.” Having Castiel around is worth sharing his emotions for. “Not again.”

Cas looks down. He looks different without his trench coat, more human. Maybe he is, in fact, a little more human. Castiel said he isn’t sure, and it’s how he’s been acting all day. Insecure. Dean can feel it whenever he looks at him, and that’s also what scares him.

“I’m sorry.” Castiel looks up to him. “I tried so hard, Dean, I tried so hard to live. For you, for Sam. I tried to stay with you and I failed.  I didn’t come back with a win for you.”

“Cas-” Dean grabs his shoulder, solid and real and warm. He looks in Castiel’s blue eyes and realizes how much he’d actually missed him. “Listen.” He begins unsteadily. “You coming back is a win for us, you hear me? You being here is enough.” Dean’s hand slides from Cas’ shoulder. “It’s all I wanted. And that’s why I want you to stay here tonight.”

“I don’t think I’m following.”

“Come on, Cas! What if you leave tonight and I come into your room tomorrow and you’re gone? What if something happens and you- you are gone for good? What if you die? What if- what if I can’t…” Dean curls his fingers into a fist. “What if I can’t let you go again?”

There’s something in Castiel’s eyes that change. It’s surprise, mostly, surprise and confusion and something Dean only recognizes from very few people in his life.

“The last thing I want is to leave another time,” Cas says. “And I- I understand now.”

Dean nods, suddenly empty where words should be, and swallows.

“Then stay. Come on, bed’s big enough.”

As Dean undresses in the darkness, with Castiel on the other side of the bed, Castiel suddenly speaks.

“Dean?”

Dean turns around, with his shirt almost off but still hanging on his neck and arm. He can’t see Cas’ face, but he can hear his breathing.   

“Yeah?”

“I love you, too.”

Victor and Yuuri – A Relationship Without Labels

There’s a lot of emphasis put on the idea of Yuuri and Victor having a relationship devoid of labels in-series yet we as fans continue to apply them to their relationship. And while this isn’t a bad thing, I would just like to take a look at how, without labels, the bond between these two is so much more than we could ever explain by boxing it in with labels.

Some of the first words we hear used for these two are “coach” and “student”. While this is absolutely part of their bond, and an important part at that, it already doesn’t encompass everything, even when they first started applying it. There’s a history behind them, even if Victor was less personally involved in it.

A history that you could use the words “idol” and “fan” to describe. You could definitely say that this is where their relationship started, but while these words also fit, they miss out on what that relationship is like from Victor’s point of view. Their bond blooms into so much more and describing it in this way would be a disservice to their development.

You could also say that they are “fellow skaters” and “competitors”. And this is both true and important, but you miss out on the personal aspect to their relationship and leave it at the level of their professions. And this personal relationship really started growing as far back as the banquet.

The first words you could possibly use to describe this instant connection might be “inspiration” or “hope”. Those words imply a lot, a depth of emotion and investment in each other that goes beyond what even words could describe, but it removes them from each other at the same time. Because these words could also apply to a distant relationship, one that isn’t as intimate as theirs is.

When they started to get to know each other, this personal intimacy bloomed into “friends”. This word is actually incredibly deep, because friends don’t only have to be someone you get to know only on the surface. Friends can be the people closest to you, and the bond can also go beyond just humans. It can easily be your deepest-rooted connections. I also believe that friendship is the key to a strong and long-lasting love relationship.

A love relationship that could be described by various different names, such as “lovers”, “boyfriends”, “fiancés”, or even “husbands”, if you look at the direction they’re headed. But if we look back over the list we’ve already been through, we can clearly see that these words are lacking. These words can be used to describe their romantic love, but it doesn’t touch on any other aspect of their relationship including the deep bond they share as two human beings.

So in the end, I feel the best words to describe what they are to each other is simply “Yuuri and Victor”. The words Yuuri says to Victor on the beach, that he wants Victor to be Victor and not some other label, doesn’t only apply to Victor’s identity – it applies to the relationship shared between the two of them. They’re not just coach/student, idol/fan, fellow skaters, each other’s inspirations, friends, or even lovers.

Because while they may be all of them at the same time, they’re also so much more.

An Open Letter to the Hetalia Fandom

We are not the people we were before, we changed, and we can continue to change. Sure this fandom has done many horrible things in its early years and honestly I wasn’t even in the fandom at that point in time, and the point is some actions were plain wrong, we know, but it’s honestly disheartening.

Please, please, I’m calling out to the true fans who cares about this fandom I learned to call my family, let’s prove that we can do good, prove them wrong for the things they still think about us. I’ve met more real people than I could ever meet in the real world. Please, I’m begging you, don’t let this fandom die, don’t let them degrade us, prove that we are good people with good intentions, that we can be real mature people who can contribute to society. Make them see what I see, a fandom that welcomes all people no matter what age or race.

Please share the word.

((I am tagging people who made me see that hetalia isn’t as bad as people say, please help me get the word around.

@hetafacts for getting the truth around the fandom and keeping it alive.

@urufu-arts for being brave enough to stand up and make a fundraiser for the victims of the Hurricane Harvey.

@ask-demon-denmark for being a good friend, and to everybody else.

  @annotated-hetalia for helping us connect with the world with real world facts from the hetalia comic strip and series

. @hetascanlations for translating Himaruya’s webcomic and sharing it to the world.

 @k-y-t-s-k-o for being an inspiration to me and many more artists out there.

  @ellawritesficssometimes for reliving and proving that our fanfiction can be great no matter what context.

 @ciakirkland for introducing me to this beautiful world. You will always be in my heart. 

And to the ask-blogs, artists, writers, archives, translators and everyone who supports and loves this fandom. Thank you for giving everyone something to love and protect, thank you so much

anonymous asked:

Would you ever do a simple tutorial of how you draw horses? I want to make centaur OCs but lord horses are difficult creatures to doodle 😭

Mmmm there are so many guides that cover what I do, and I really don’t do anything more than those. Still use the whole blocks and sticks and form building and whatnot. And a buttload of references. Anything I could say different would kinda step beyond the stage of simplicity?

To offer something though I would like, suggest tweaking the use of circles when it comes to drawing horses. Or anything, really. Circles are great and highly accessible for fast, general drawing, but few natural things are perfectly round. Look at a horse from the front or back - it’s square and flat and meaty and saggy too, depending on your angle.

So like, I dunno, if you wanna step it up a notch, try changing your use of building-circles into something like this

And especially practice being able to see these shapes in dimension

And then piece them together. The triangle will really help guide the line up. Highly recommend.

Honestly I just follow the same gist of Hubedihubbe’s quick tut (please check it out, very good points made, much cleaner, actually labelled) so I kind of feel like I’m parroting here but.. I break down the rest in lines and diamonds.

As a personal preference, I like marking in the shoulder blade to elbow and the hip to knee, as they create pretty important shapes towards horse recognition. If something keeps looking off, check your leg length. A super rough way to get a close idea of what you need can be found in using most of the shoulder block for a landmark? It’s not perfect maths, it’s a rough tell. The hind legs are then worked out via the red line, setting the hocks above the intersection across the knees 

And uh, it goes on from there. You gotta look at pictures, do the study, and learn the meats. No real other way around that part.

There’s a horse bod.

But the reason of learning how to see those shapes in dimension is so that you can push your poses further! Try piecing it together with your front-view knowledge. And look at references, always! 

Shoulders are pretty narrow compared to the belly and hindquarters, unless you start looking into the draft breeds - then both ends more or less square up together. But moving on, more leggies are slapped on that thing

And fleshed out with all that meat knowledge :P (I know I haven’t gone into heads but this was about centaurs anyway. This guy just felt like he needed one)

And when it comes to practice and learning, don’t be afraid to simply draw these shapes directly over an image. It will help familiarise you with how these base forms interact with one another, how far they can squash and stretch and look at a whole variety of angles. It’s just practice!

Doing that helps to gain a solid concept of the subject, so that when you do set out on your own you can find that convincing territory.


So hey, this has been a very long and terrible not-tutorial. More like insight or something, and would only be helpful if you’re somewhat familiar with horses and already got the fundamentals of drawing down pat, since I skipped over a lot

Haven’t drawn a horse before though? I recommend you the Shrimp method

Anyway, hope all this was kinda interesting

tony stark, a certified baby-cuddler

everyone needs more tony and babies in their life, right? have a fic. because tony canonically goes to hospitals and hugs babies who need it. (for mobile users, there’s a read-more after a few paragraphs)


Tony Stark isn’t new to kids, not exactly.

He’s always tried to visit paediatric wards when he had a moment, letting the kids play with the armours and telling them stories. He helped Reed and Sue with babysitting, and he remembers Val’s first attempts at building microprocessors. He held a newborn Danielle Cage in his arms and he marvelled at how tiny she was. He’s always glad to help his baby Avengers with homework.

He likes kids. He might never have his own, and he tells himself he’s made his peace with that, but he likes kids and he likes spending time with them, from babies and toddlers to I’m-not-a-kid-anymore teenagers.

And the moments he spends with kids never get any less special.

Keep reading

“Bethesda puts YEARS into their games. I am so fucking sick of people being so mean and over critical about their games. Obsidian only spent a year on New Vegas and people won’t stop fucking talking about how good New Vegas is. Bethesda spent FOUR YEARS on Fallout 3.”

well, if Bethesda can put literal years into developing their games and make absolutely terrible rpgs while Obsidian can make a classic, enduring RPG with 18 months, outdated resources, and no quality QA then that says a hell of lot more than I could ever say about Bethesda vs Obsidian

It seemed just your luck to have rented an apartment directly above a group of cultists.  

You’ve lost count of hearing their inane, rhythmic chanting below your floorboards and the faint flicker of candles around an elaborate chalk circle. You’ve complained numerous times before, but every time they’ve greeted you at the doorway in their draping red hoods, solemn-faced and muttering about bringing the ‘Great Old Ones’ back.  

For all the macabre airs that surrounded the place, the rent was cheap. Impossibly cheap. At first, you had been elated by such a turn of luck after you’d been so suddenly thrust into the adult world with both a job and school to juggle, but by now you knew why tenancy changed so quickly. But there was no way you’d be able to find another apartment this cheap. So you just tried to ignore the strangeness that lingered around you by immersing yourself in the real world outside your door, silently dreading the moments where you would have to return home.  Any other person would have turned heels long ago, but you’re just too stubborn to leave. It’s your home. You feel a sense of protective belonging over it, almost as if it’s your responsibility. 

You’ve come to expect the unusual from your living circumstances.  

     However, what you would have never expected would be a loud, unearthly rumbling that would send you sprawling to the ground, where the muted screams of cultists to waver up through the cracks in the floorboards. 

After the initial shock, apathy and exasperation set in. 

Damn it. After so many failed rituals and chants, so many nights spent reading spells from mind-destroying ancient tomes, they’ve actually done it. 

Well, at least you won’t have to deal with your downstairs neighbors anymore, you remind yourself hopefully. 

The journey down the stairs is a dark, tepid one where you blindly grope the spiraling banister, feeling as if something is just going to jump out at you like a overused horror movie cliche. Even though you try and convince yourself otherwise- damn it, you’re an adult, you shouldn’t be afraid of these things- the fear till lingers. 

The first thing you notice is the immense heat that blasts onto your face, sending trails of condensation down your already pale brow. It’ unusual because their heat is turned off all the time, even in the depths of winter. The only heat source down there is candlelight for when they carry out their unearthly rituals. But now it feels like you’re in the boiler room of the apartment block, walls almost scalding to touch. 

A smeared chalk pentacle glimmers in the shivering light of a single candle in the center of the room, it’s siblings long since extinguished. Everything in the room is scattered and overturned, the wooden floorboards blackened, but curiously not burnt. It’s as if some massive, invisible explosion has take place. The musty air is already making you nervous- something lingers in it, something that you already have the sense to know is not of this earth, that every cell i your body screams to get out of. There’s no trace of your neighbors anywhere. But you can’t help but feel as if you’re not alone, as if something is watching you from the shadows.

Maturity tells you to call the police. But you’ve tried that in the past, and nothing has ever really come from it. And if you tried describing what was down here, you were sure that they would hang up on you as a prank call. 

There’s a patter of movement from behind you. Noticing something sharp glinting from across the floor, you scrabble down to grab it, to try and protect yourself.

There’s a low clicking growl from the darkness. You feel ready to pass out from fear at any moment. You grip the knife shakily in your hand, but somehow feel even more helpless. Even when shrouded in darkness, you know that you’re powerless against whatever faces you. 

      With a shrieking cackle, something massive launches itself from the darkness with flashing white eyes and a fanged mouth trailing viscous saliva. You wait for death, but find it curiously absent. You look down to see the thing feeding on something else, and yourself completely unharmed. 

It’s a massive mass of pulsating tentacles from the waist down, slithering across the floor on them like some giant demented octopus. Above, it’s a bony white mockery of the human form, scales trailing down it’s spiky spine. Seeing it’s arms flex as it tears into it’s meal, it’s a lot more muscular than you thought. Around it’s head, you see a familiar robed hand, half-clutching a hammer. A hand that belonged to someone, one of the cultists, who was going to bring it down on you and use you as a human sacrifice. 

With a dawning shock, you realize that whatever this thing is, it just saved you. 

You move hesitantly towards it and it’s head whips around, glowing eyes burning right into your rigid form. It looks at you in a way you’ve never seen anyone look at you before, so intently, so longingly. It softens you to sympathy towards it, instead of screaming at the sight of it. 

“Thank you,” you breathe out.

You cringe at how ridiculous you must sound. You don’t even know if it can understand what you’re even saying, or if you’re really just the light snack for it after the heavy dinner of loyal cultists. Much to your surprise, it understands. A low longing growl coils out from it’s throat. It’s not even human, but you somehow feel closer to it than you’ve ever felt to any fellow member of your species. There’s more than that. You see it in it’s whole stance, aching familiar- it’s lonely.

Lonely- just like you. 

Overwhelmed by the situation, you make a quick run for upstairs. But as you’re midway up the staircase, you hear a low squelching sound. Whatever it is, it’s not about to leave you. 

     That evening was how you found yourself saddled with an unusual new roommate. He didn’t have an exact name, well at least not in human language. The most you had gotten out of him was a high-pitched series of clicks and ear-splitting squeals. 

Despite all odds, you two had somehow become amicable. True, he practically ate you out of house and home, but he was always there to listen to your day and silently comfort you from your stresses, wrapping his tentacles around you in a slimy hug. 

There were the few annoyances- while most roommates had to deal with their stuff being borrowed without permission, or not doing chores, you had to stop yours from eating neighborhood cats. 

It was nice having someone to come home to- even if that someone was actually something that was from another dimension all together. It was still nice.

Still, the memory of that night played on your mind- why had he saved you from becoming a sacrifice? Why hadn’t he just devoured you like he had with everyone else?

You sat half-curled up on the couch, a stack of junk food seated in your lap, more for him than it is for you. Beside you was your laptop. If there was anything that you loved about the new routine, it was movie night. It was a night where you could just lose yourself and forget the stresses of the world. You were so used to watching movies alone, but now you had someone else to enjoy them with. 

And you had to admit,  it was oddly endearing to see a tentacled, eldritch beast enjoy watching animated children’s movies. He shifted beside you, clawed hands shifting against the fabric of the duvet you’d put over to protect the couch from further damage. He was enraptured by the screen, toothy mouthed stretched into a wide grin. He loved movie night just as much as you did, already devouring half the stack of snacks. But you don’t mind.

Somehow you didn’t focus on the movie like you thought you would. Your mind slipped away from the action onscreen, becoming more wistful. You kept thinking about that night, about the ritual gone wrong. 

“Hey,” you suddenly remarked, “I just realized something.” 

His head instantly whipped around from the bright illumination of the screen within the dimmed room. 

“Mrnnnh?” came his curious growl. 

You suppressed a laugh at how truly catlike this hideous, tentacled monstrosity could be. 

“Two months since we met, and we moved in. I think it calls for some kind of celebration.” 

You paused. 

“I’ve…I’ve just been thinking…” 

He leaned in, both curious and concerned, sensing your obvious hesitancy. You force yourself to exhale. 

“That night…what was it about me? Everyone else…you devoured. But you left me alive. You saved me. Why? Why me?” 

The creature goes quiet. You already feel as if you’ve made a terrible mistake and feel like gingerly trying to switch the topic of conversation. But he shifts over the couch, slightly creaking it with his own immense stature.

“I…wanted to devour…wanted to devour everyone…but…” he growls in a deep, grating tone. 

His head tilts downwards towards you, making you feel absolutely tiny in the shadow of his presence. 

“…I… don’t want to eat…you. You…not meat to me.” 

He pauses for a minute, as if struggling what to say. 

”You…mean..more…to me…than…just meat.” 

You’re so shocked by the brevity of his words that it only dawns on you a few minutes later that it’s the first time you’ve ever heard him speak human words.

Squeezing back the few tears that brim within the glassy corners of your eyes, you draw close to him, allowing yourself to be embraced by his long arms. His touch is almost crushing, you know if he really tried, he could rip you apart, but you feel nothing but comfort. 

“Thank you.” you murmured softly. 

Your monster smiles down at you, revealing an array of sharp teeth, arranged in a welcoming, loving smile.