The dizzying ringing of a Tibetan singing bowl…the rush of blood in your ears and temples…a sizzle without a source…a blur of red circling around you…when it stops, the thick grey mist that had been obscuring your vision disperses, and there stands a boy on fire - cheeks red with wind, smile sharp with white teeth and smirking lips. Gorgeous. He makes you insane with lust, excitement. And then he’s running again. While he was still, he had his hand out…you were too overwhelmed by his beauty to do anything with that knowledge when you first saw him, but next time you’ll be prepared…next time, you puts your hand in his and that smile opens up to let through an innocent, deliciously alive laugh and then the two of you are running together, and everything is simultaneously a blur and clearer than ever, and you find creative and ridiculous ways to kiss and touch and make love while you move at the speed of light…this is Aries Venus. A heart engulfed in orange, yellow, red licking flames…bones heated and burned and tested so many times that they’re now as strong as steel…this heart cannot stop beating, cannot stop pushing life blood through its host, and when it falls in love, it can’t stop that, either. New to the world, he’s hungry for it all…Aries Venus wants to explode with rage, with hope, wants to laugh so hard that his heart skips a beat, and he does, he will, over and over and over again, finding a new way to experience it each time. He doesn’t need a companion, but he won’t refuse one. After all, Aries Venus will try anything once. This is the love that can never die, will never die, unless death suddenly offers something but eternal nothingness up. Then, I mean…hey…wanna come along, babe? There’s that smirk again…
In Taurus Venus’ heart grows a garden with plush jade grass, perfumed dusty mauve roses - thorns inexplicably removed…the sun is the color of a gold bar reflecting a tangerine sunset. The humming of bees becomes symphony to those who enter. The creak of the wrought iron gate is a siren song for passerby. In the center of the garden is a maiden formed from soil, vines, clouds, rain, and soft rabbit fur…animals flock around her, as do young children, as do gentle garden bugs. Her eyes are lit like fireflies, and you could almost swear that the soft curve of her smile is identical to the curve of a pale yellow, perfectly ripe, deliciously scented banana. She combs her long, chocolate locks with a marble comb, and sings at a frequency that shakes the ground, causing fresh fruit to fall from trees, rocking the creatures who share her space with her into a relaxed afternoon rest. All is well, you think.
Gemini Venus’ heart is a small silver bell, ringing constantly as Gemini shakes with nervous energy. Only, the sound it makes isn’t “ting ting” but rather…”hey stranger, how are you today? have you ever heard of click beetles? do you know how those lollipops with all the swirls are made? I have a hypothetical for you -.” Gemini Venus’ quickly comes to learn (because there is no other way for them to learn), however, that not everyone likes bells, and so he teaches the heart to melt into liquid mercury and reform into petrified wood or something like the sun or a big, wild entire world. The ting-a-ling that may have irritated before now knows how to roar and tremble and sweetly sing and, under the right circumstances, can even thrum like a jackhammer - just like a mockingbird’s voice. Or perhaps Gemini Venus just like to say that his heart acts this way because of others…perhaps that’s another possibility…perhaps this is who Gemini Venus was always meant to be. His heart was always supposed to be a clever shape-shifter, a ”form transcender,” he might say, if you think shape-shifter sounds untrustworthy. With each shout or shake or hoot or beep of the heart comes a new wave of enthusiasm, question, information and it is through this stream of noise that he best expresses his love to you, that he shows that he values you. He knows that Gemini is associated with The Lovers in tarot if you doubt this and will easily, charmingly convince you that him wanting to read aloud to you from the newspaper is way more meaningful than some expensive romantic dinner is. And he’s not lying. Or he is. He doesn’t know, and neither will you, and it won’t matter a damn bit because truth isn’t the point, truth is relative. Love is what counts, his talkative bell heart reminds you. Feel like we’re going in circles? Gemini Venus’ lives in them. If you can’t handle this, you can’t handle them.
Cancer Venus has a glass heart full of warm milk. During the day, the liquid sloshes as softly and calmly as a lullaby. Under the Moon, it turns and churns like the sea. The milk can never fully run out, nor can the glass ever fully shatter. Inside the heart grows a perfect white egg, cold and glowing. Cancer Venus smells like vanilla, is deep red like love, and cries music. With hands as soft as butter, she wipes away your tears and re-hydrates you with her compassionate own. Her eyes are as clear as what encases her nurturing heart, and you could drink her gaze for eternity…and then time travel with her all the way back to the beginning, to do it all over again, for her love is as infinite as the cycle of birth and death is.
Leo Venus’ heart is so big that you might not even see it - you’ll simply suddenly be in it, part of it. Pink like bubblegum, red like candy apples, gold like jewelry, aquamarine like glittery tears, crystalline like the elegant ice swan they’ll want at the wedding - your blue and green world turns kaleidoscope, carnival, and you think…this is so fun, it can’t possibly last…but at the core of that excitement lives the fact that this, love, is Leo’s entire purpose. Though the sunsets and moonlit beach walks and romantic dinners could all be considered set dressing, the stage Leo lives on does not suddenly become empty when the backgrounds are wheeled away by one of Leo Venus’ many admiring, adoring fans. The stage itself is a work of art, like the time dragon in Wicked…mahogany floors, rich velvet curtains, a grand piano played by pixies…even when free of dramatic decorations, it’s one of the most beautiful scenes you’ll ever see. As if Leo would ever willingly forsake the decorations, though, especially if they knew they had a beloved to impress…so out come elephants for you ride on, cotton candy to wrap up in. The sensations of being kissed, hug, pet never leave your skin…a rich, pleased purr ripples through the air at all times, and it sounds like if love got translated into white noise to your ears…your ears that are almost certainly graced with those expensive earrings you were eyeing when you last went shopping. The entry fee to the experience is a genuine compliment to the holder of the heart, and the purity of the affection you find yourself immersed in is so moving and perfect that you would never dare try to find a way out.
It’s raining…the rain is soft and clean. The potted plant on your balcony drinks it up happily, but not greedily…its fresh-smelling soil soaks the water in and turns chocolatey brown…its leaves stand up a bit straighter, and their jungle green leaves’ color darkens. Refreshed…invigorated…ready for another day of growing you perfect, sweet vegetables. They’re not impressively large and shiny…they typically grow to be a perfect serving size. Not too small to be used, not too large to be bold. Perfect in their practicality. Glamor is for theater, not real life, you think to yourself when your neighbor mocks them as he plucks a tomato the size of his head from his little apartment garden. It’s hard not to compare yourself to others, you realize. You head inside, to the bathroom sink, to rinse the dirt off your hands, out from underneath your fingernails. You glance in the mirror…who are you? Violet, softly yellow, olive, warm brick brown…why, you’re Virgo Venus. Not perfect…though you wish to be…but enough, you tell yourself. Though you define yourself through comparisons and contrasts, forever thinking in a complex manner, you actually have quite a lot of substance on your own. There’s a forest in your heart…a forest in the modern world, you chide yourself, after allowing your mind to imagine some untouched utopia filled only with life. No…sometimes those innocent trees get cut down and turned into paper. Sometimes the wise elder underbrush gets burned to make way for new, loud youth. These things benefit the greater good, though, so that’s okay, you think. This love grows and chops perfectly practical tomatoes, this love turns them into your favorite pasta sauce with spices that whispered to her Earth-fluent heart from their shelf on the grocery store…this love is warm, subtle, not noticed or appreciated enough. It’s not as strong as a backbone, but it’s a clean hand that props you up, even if you sometimes wish it would move around and excite you a little bit. But isn’t the way he knows how to sew buttons with dental floss exciting? Aren’t his quirks and his mundane genius exciting? Sometimes that olive heart grows passionate red pits…anyone worth its efforts will certainly see and get to taste them, I think (and it’s important that we all know this, for Virgo Venus sometimes does not).
Pop. Bubblegum snaps. There’s a flurry of wings, a flurry of glittering snow. The strum of a harp, the strum of a guitar at a casual bonfire. Was the pop bubblegum or a burst balloon? You glance over to your Libra lover to see if something is wrong…but the balloon you thought was over there, in risk of being injured, is hidden. Libra Venus smiles softly at you. “Don’t worry, dear.” A kiss on the cheeks, the lips, a laugh and a whispered story of her day. “And how was yours, honey love?” Attentive ears, intelligent eyes, a word of advice. Soft. Feather fingers and pink giggles. It’s not innocent, but it is pleasant. That’s preferable…you want someone with experience. You remember saying that to Libra Venus once. Perhaps that’s why she lets her wisdom shine through? You have to speak about her like this, for she doesn’t often speak about herself…it seems as if she lives on only through the perceptions and judgments of others at times. No, that’s not true…but her heart is a set of brass scales, you know. Hot in one scale, cold in the other. Light, dark. Up, down. Good, bad. There’s no truth, no answer, no self…two of everything, contradicting everything. You’re not sure you could summarize that, either. You know of her genius, though. The wit. The bravery when someone around her is being unfairly treated. Those parts of her are consistent. Her compassion is a bit cold, a bit distant, but you know that that’s just because she’s mastermind, not personal therapist. Libra Venus is delicate like the balance of environment that her happiness demands. Feathers (bricks). Pink laughter (cold blue rage). Up with the angels (anchored down at the bottom of the sea). Treat her with a light touch…know that her idealism can be shattered just as easily as a scale can tilt. She’ll smartly do the same with you.
You smell Scorpio Venus’ love before you see it…it’s the smell of a match being struck, of something bitter sparking and transforming into a woodsy flame. Then comes the small light…it bounces off of eyes that you were not aware of…a glassy pool of water that you were not aware of…a pink tongue darting out to wet red lips that you did not see. As your senses begin to focus, as your instincts sharpen, you pick up on sounds…something moving in the brush - soft paws…and something perhaps leaving the black lake to your left to come and investigate you. There are a lot of hands on you now. They’re not intrusive, nor rough…they’re soft, light, long-fingered and probing and curious…as they investigate your heart with gentle strokes, your cheeks with a warm cupped palm, your back with a hypnotizing rub, you can’t help but feel relaxed. You begin to open up, revealing your own inner fire and creatures…your secrets are on display, your own lake monster and mystery forest animal come out of hiding, and the two worlds - yours and Scorpio Venus’ - commune, familiarize, share and question. Eventually, you will learn all there is to know about each other. When this happens, a great blaze lights up Scorpio Venus’ eyes…it grows and grows into a fireball, too big for a body to contain…you both burn in spectacular fashion…sit as dust for a few millennia…and then slowly, over time, your dust turns to particles and then to cells and a new person arrives on earth…then you and Scorpio Venus find each other…dance again…investigate again…I know this happens as certainly as I know that death happens, Scorpio Venus’ says as she reads this.
Sagittarius Venus’ heart smells like patchouli, quivers hollowly like a flexible wooden stick does when you hold one end firm and flick the other, and feels hot to the touch in an odd, thick, heady way…it burns your nose like the smoke that rises from a blown-out candle does. Rough, warm palms and feet belong to this individual, but they make you feel safe in a way that the feather hands of dear Libra never could. On this heart is a smile over a third eye - a laughing mouth that doesn’t stop talking and philosophizing and green iris that sparkles as it takes in the landscape its host body is traveling through. This heart grabs yours and joins them together, like horse and man become one centaur, and together you traverse the golden plains that each plane of existence has to offer. In its thumps echo honesty, and the blood that it pushes through the body is resides in flows messages from God and Earth from here to there, from fingertip to fingertip, from thigh artery to neck artery. Sagittarius Venus tosses her thick hair over her shoulder and the strands tangle into a great cosmic puzzle to unravel.
Capricorn Venus has a bone heart leaking thick marrow. This heart drips and bleeds, but the liquid that leaves it only strengthens the rest of the body as it travels through capillaries and veins. The bone is streaked, imperfect like the wood of a tree. It shows that this lover is experienced, wise, with staying power. Saturn sits in those rings that line a trunk, and Saturn sits in this ivory marbled heart. Capricorn Venus whispers like the rustling of dark green rubbery leaves, and her hands hold a gentle burning warmth in them…evidence of Mars’ feverish exaltation in her sign.
Aquarius Venus’ heart is a ball of blue and purple electricity, swirled like a galaxy, blowing off ethereal clouds of silver glitter and stardust with each breath the individual takes. Like power traveling through underground wires, Aquarius Venus’ love zips and zaps through the collective, lighting up fellow hearts with inspiration, like the way our brain power lights up our neurons. This love shocks you into awareness and compassion, motivation and idealism. It’s alive, sprouting lime-colored plant chutes and chirping like an indigo bunting bird.
Pisces Venus’ heart is liquefied so that it fills up and rocks their whole physical being as well as their whole soul. This watery love can easily be tipped into others, used to fill them up. It’s not rare for our silver little Pisces fish to travel with it…using her adventurous Jupiter energy to swim around inside of your soul and heart when hers begins to ache for companionship, using her Neptune energy to conceal her presence so that you only feel the healing of her love and not the burden of her pain. Though we tend to think blue when water comes to mind, Pisces Venus’ passion shade is chameleon, mixing with your own aura like food dye swirls around in liquid…reflecting your own self back at you, making you feel at home, allowing you to see all of the beauty that your self-doubt hides from you.
Fact: Pansexuals make for exceptional projectiles as they are surprisingly light and aerodynamic. A pansexual thrown by a skilled pitcher can reach speeds of up to 300 meters per second. Bards in the Pansexual Pantheon still sing of the exploits of Panpan the Toss Boy.
(tell me about the city, a miniature cosmos, supernovae in reverse, the ghostly lull of city breathing still echoes in my room at night)
darling it’s star-soaked dreams, it’s people with fireflies caught in their eyes walking faster than the speed of light, it’s the hope and the magic so visceral you can feel it drifting in the air
(tell me about the wildflowers that grow on the borders of the yard, i think about them sometimes when i fall asleep - you know the type, the sort you used to braid into my hair as we sang lullabies even though we didn’t know all the words)
they’re the color of love that smolders out into cold, of all the places you’ve never been, of all the wishes you’ve never made on shooting stars, the color of aching and wanting and yearning
(tell me about the sky, i don’t mean the patch of cerulean framed by the gaping mouth of my window, i mean what does it taste like, i mean when you weave your whispered secrets into the strands of the clouds, what does it whisper back)
it’s sweeter than cotton candy, lighter too, cool and gentler than a kiss, it listens and it’s my best friend and when i walk into its embrace i know i’m home
(tell me about everything, the memories i keep like moths in a jar under my bed are losing their color, tell me what it’s like to live without agoraphobia)
darling, darling, the world is so beautiful, every day it reteaches me how to breathe.
Hey guys, just writing some things to queue up because i’ve got a week full of exams coming up! If you have any requests feel free to message me or something :)
You rushed around your tiny apartment, running into haphazardly stacked piles of books and the ends of furniture. You tripped over your end table, landing on the couch with an ‘oof’. Still, you didn’t stop, scrambling to get to your cellphone. At this very moment, there were fifty boxes of cake mix in your kitchen, and you needed an ungodly amount of cakes done by tomorrow night. The only way you would be able to get this done, would be to call your best friend and life saver over to help you.
You recently got a new phone, and hadn’t moved all of your contacts over to it yet. Luckily, you remembered your best friend Elisa’s number by heart.You dialed it at the speed of light, impatiently listening to the phone ringing, willing her to pick up. Finally, someone did.
“I have 50 boxes of cake mix, we need to start making cakes ASAP! Deadlines, Elisa, ever heard of ‘em? Where are you?” You hollered into the phone, tripping your way back to your kitchen. Instead of a straight answer, a rather masculine-sounding chuckle.
“ I think you got the wrong number, but count me in anyway. Sounds fun!” I guy said on the other end of the line. You sighed exasperatedly.
“You know what, I don’t even have time to question it. I need fifty cakes by tomorrow night. I’m apartment 3c in the red brick building on the corner of 5th and Holland way. If you turn out to be a creep, I’ll suffocate you in cake batter,” You replied matter-of-factly.
“Sounds like a great way to die. I’m on my way,”the guy said, and with that he hung up. You shook your head at yourself as you ripped open the first box of cake mix, wondering how absolutely crazy you had to be to do what you just did.
Twenty minutes later, you had your first cake in the oven, and a knock was sounding on your door. You set down the mixing bowl in your hands and flicked the stray hair out of your face. When you opened the door, you came face-to-chest with a guy who was obviously much taller than you.
“Hi, I’m (y/n),” you said, sticking out a batter-speckled hand for him to shake. He shook it, a smile on his face.
“I’m Bucky.I guess i’m your co-baker for the day?” He said, his voice making butterflies erupt in your stomach. You pushed the thoughts away and opened the door wider.
“Yeah, I guess you are. Now, I’ve got forty-nine cakes to go, and t-minues forty-seven hours until deadline,” I said, sounding eerily like a drill sergeant.
“Yes, ma’am. Oh boy, am I excited,” Bucky replied, smirking as he followed you to your tiny, cluttered kitchen.
Seven hours of vigorous baking later, and you and Bucky were exhausted. Both of you had made your way to the living room, collapsing on the couch.
“So, trashy reality tv time?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow and making Bucky laugh.
“You know, I never expected to have so much fun baking with someone I just met,” Bucky piped up, turning to look at you.
“Yeah, you’d be surprised,” you shot back, a smile on your face.
Four billion years from now, our galaxy, the Milky Way, will collide with our large neighbor, Andromeda. The galaxies as we know them will not survive.
Currently, Andromeda and the Milky Way are about 2.5 million light-years apart. Fueled by gravity, the two galaxies are hurtling toward one another at 402,000 kilometers per hour. But even at that speed, they won’t meet for another four billion years. Then, the two galaxies will collide head-on and fly through one another. For eons, the pair will continue to come together and fly apart, scrambling stars and redrawing constellations until eventually, after a billion or so years have passed, the two galaxies will merge.
Then, the solar system will have a new cosmic address, with newly formed stars, planets, and solar system’s, all within a giant elliptical galaxy, formed by the collision and merger of the Milky Way and Andromeda, and life will begin again.
headcanon: early on in earth-c settling, the kids have group meals when they can because they still can’t quite bear to be separate.
a solid few days, the main topic of conversation at the table is music history. once dirk realizes that dave missed out on so much fucking music, he is absolutely horrified and works to bring him up to speed.
the day he realizes dave never got to hear My Beautiful Dark Twisted Fantasy, he launches his phone out of his sylladex so hard, it nearly goes through a tree, in his haste to get “All Of The Lights” and “Power” in dave’s ears.
roxy, across from dirk, is like, “ooh ooh pull up minaj,” and dirk is like “Holy shit, yes. We are going to get educational up in here.” “no son of mine ain’t gonna have “Anaconda” written on his heart!” “Agreed.”
jane tries to suggest taylor swift. veto’ed, because dirk can’t engage with her shit without going on a dissertation (a dirksertation, colloquially).
We let youth covered up ourselves in vines, tangling in complicated breaths and heartbreaks beating simultaneously.
We makes home out of everything / night city lights / a pair of arms / couple pairs of arms / your eyes beneath my laughter line / the sound your soul makes minutes before the sunrise / out of nothing.
We grow monster in our lungs and called it love / called it your laugh resonance down to my collarbone to the inside of my stomach / called it slipping through the thin ice and still speeding, speeding, speeding.
We teach our heart how to be brave / how to sew itself new / how to let go / how to hold on / how to not be drown in these waves of overwhelming feelings / how to befriend our demons / and not let it consumes us.
This, me, you. We’re thumping our soul in one beat with fingers intertwined. We grow monster in our lungs and called it love. When does the monster becomes the angel? When you help me make peace with my pain, and I am to yours
When Jungkook felt tugging at his boxers he was sure it was just his sleeping mind playing with him, but suddenly the feeling of warmth wrapping around him caused his eyes to open with the speed of light
“W-WHAT THE– Y/N…?“
He covered his mouth trying to contain himself. He’s unable to look into your eyes as he thinks this is very wrong, but he doesn’t want to stop you because it feels so right.
When Culverton was already in the room with Sherlock, John barely discovers that Sherlock is in danger. So what does he do next? Well, taking Mrs. Hudson’s bad ass car, John would have to have drove way over the speeding limit, crossing every red light with police cars most likely chasing after him, make it to the studio —however far that is— fight every security guard that tries to stop him from running down hospital halls, make it to Sherlock’s room and bust down the door like he’s fucking Captain America…..And people still think this is platonic? I wish they showed that instead of Culverton being creepy.
You wake up as you’re feeling Dwight’s lips on your neck how he spreads kisses there.
“Morning.” You say quietly and turn around to him, putting your lips on his.
The kiss becomes more passionate as he rolls you over, lying on top of you.
A light red appears on your cheeks as he worships your body with his eyes. You’re both still naked from yesterday evening. You open your legs for him and you sigh in joy as you feel his growing erection on your wetness. Gentle he starts thrusting in you and you wrap your legs around his hips, both of you groaning onto each other mouthes.
You don’t have much time, breakfast is starting soon and you’ve to go on a run. That’s why Dwight fastens his speed, bringing you quick to your sweet release. With your name on his lips he spills himself in you, holding you tight for a moment before you stand up.
Blood is still dripping from your hair down your clothes while Simon chuckles amused next to you.
“Fuck you.” You fake smile and show him your middlefinger.
“C'mon princess, it wasn’t my fault.” Simon says and you roll your eyes. “Take a shower. I’ll tell the boss that we’re back.”
You nod grateful and walk quickly in your room to get some fresh clothes before you go to the bathroom.
“We belong together. We always did.” You hear Sherry saying as you pass the stairs to the penthouse.
A frown appears on your face, because you can’t imagine that she talks to Negan like that.
“I’m with (Y/N) now.”
Was that Dwight?
You sneak around the corner and your heart stops a second as you see how Sherry strokes over the burned side of his face. Her lips going closer to his and Dwight presses himself on the wall.
She can’t be fucking serious.
After all what he did to him?
It took you weeks until he finally trusted you enough to became friends and two weeks more until you had the guts to tell him about your feelings.
Bitch doesn’t take that away from you!
Before you can stop yourself and you know that’s probably a big mistake, you run to her and slap her in the face. Your clothes drop on the ground.
“Don’t (Y/N).” Dwight says with widen eyes.
Sherry doesn’t seem impressed and tries to reach out for you, but Dwight stands between you.
“I’m his wife.” Sherry shouts and you hear Dwight cussing.
“Yea and you took the first chance to jump on Negan’s dick so that you can sit on your ass all day, you stup-.”
“What the fucking fuck fuck is going on here?” Negan barks and Dwight drags you on your knees.
You can’t tell Negan the truth, he’d punish Dwight for what happened… again.
“Answer me!” He yells and damn, he’s looking at you.
“I-I slapped Sherry.” You say, staring submissive on the ground, hearing Dwight hiss.
“So, and why the fuck did you do this?” Negan bends down to you with a big grin.
“They were talking. I was jealous.” You press through your teeth and Negan straightens up.
“Clean her up, Dwight.” Negan says and gives you a nod that you can stand up. “I’ll have a chat with Sherry.”
Dwight grabs your upper arm and pulls you to the showers, pale and heavy breathing.
“Don’t…don’t do that ever again.” His voice sounds raspy. “I don’t know what I’d do when he’d hurt you.”
“Dwight, it’s fine. I’m fine.” You take his face in your hands, kissing him deeply.
“I love you.” He mumbles and you bite your lip.
“I love you, too.”
With trembling hands you undress each other before you get in the shower.
You close your eyes in enjoyment as he washes the blood out of your hair, his chest pressed on your back.
“I’ve a surprise for you when we get out.” Dwight whispers in your ear.
“When it’s your growing cock I’m not really surprised.” You giggle and he chuckles quietly. “No seriously, what is it?”
“A little maybe.”
But of course you wait until you’re out of the shower and getting dressed.
“What are you doing there?” You ask confused and kind of nervous as he goes on his knees.
For a second you think he wants to do some ridiculous roleplay.
Surprised you look to him as he takes a ring out of his pocket.
“Found this a week or so and I think today is a good day for it.” Dwight says. “I know we can’t get marry technically, but I hope you’ll wear that a ring as a sign that we belong together.”
“Oh Dwight.” You whisper, tears prickle in your eyes as you go down on your knees. “Yes. Oh god, yes.”
A small happy laughter leaves his mouth as he puts the ring on your finger.
Request- Sister imagine where Dean’s possessed by a demon and they can’t seem to kill him the usual way so Sam and her tie him up and she tries to scream at him things that they all did together as kids to set him free. He almost kills her but almost at the last minute he snaps back and he hugs her and Sam makes sure he’s still him and when he does there’s a giant group hug filled with tears and smiles and omg someone hold me…
“What do you mean get the dungeon ready?” You asked running to the dungeon and switching the light on.
“It’s Dean (Y/n). He’s possessed.” Sam says driving at full speed trying to get back to the bunker. You completely froze. Your eldest brother Dean was possessed. “(Y/n)? (Y/n) you still there? Get the chair and rope ready we are gonna have to tie him down.” Sam said, while you could hear Dean struggling against what you assumed was handcuffs with devil traps on.
“Yeah yeah okay Sammy.” You whispered sliding your hand through your hair. Once you hung up you dragged the chair in to the middle of the devil trap and got ready with the rope.
Come with bows bent and with emptying of quivers,Maiden most perfect, lady of light, With a noise of winds and many rivers, With a clamour of waters, and with might; Bind on thy sandals, O thou most fleet, Over the splendour and speed of thy feet; For the faint east quickens, the wan west shivers, Round the feet of the day and the feet of the night. //
She reigns upon her dusky throne, ‘mid shades of heroes dread to see; Among the dead she breathes alone, Persephone—Persephone! Or seated on the Elysian hill she dreams of earthly daylight still, and murmurs of the daffodil. //
Restless, pacing panther-like, I prowl the palace. Preparing for the gods to punish me, As is my fate. A fate I fear not. For I, Clytemnestra, Queen of Mycenae, Daughter of Sparta and of Leda, Have avenged my daughter's death! The blood of Iphigenia, Shed by her father, To assuage the fears and whims Of ignorant, brutal men. Lordly Agamemnon, Once my husband but no more, For I have murdered him. //
As a pale phantom with a lamp Ascends some ruin's haunted stair, So glides the moon along the damp. Mysterious chambers of the air.Now hidden in cloud, and now revealed, As if this phantom, full of pain, Were by the crumbling walls concealed, And at the windows seen again. Until at last, serene and proud. In all the splendor of her light, She walks the terraces of cloud, Supreme as Empress of the Night. //
With hair like lakes that glint beneath the stars, dark as sweet as midnight, or with hair aglow like burnished gold that still retains the fire. Yea, I shall haunt until the dusk of time, the heavy eyelids filled with fleeting dreams. //
Helen of Troy
So the lovely Andromeda sitting on the shore, Her long hair waving seaward in the salty breeze, Has been chained to rock by vengeance heretofore. But the brave Perseus arrives and her he frees, After slaying the sea monster with a vicious gore. Now Andromeda is the goddess of all my dreams, Who reigns supreme in the celestial sphere. Her beauty is yet unique in the heavenly schemes, And can cause clouds and tempest to disappear. //
Who is that girl playing in the garden- So carefree, so young, so fair? Or is she older, but with An unaging zeal or fire? I will have her A Persephone, a Helen A Medusa- Cleopatra, Pandora to my soul, ...My little fatal heel //
So you have swept me back, I who could have walked with the live souls above the earth,I who could have slept among the live flowers at last; so for your arrogance and your ruthlessness I am swept back where dead lichens drip dead cinders upon moss of ash; so for your arrogance I am broken at last, I who had lived unconscious, who was almost forgot; if you had let me wait I had grown from listlessness into peace, if you had let me rest with the dead, I had forgot you and the past. //
In the pathway of the sun, In the footsteps of the breeze, Where the world and sky are one, He shall ride the silver seas, He shall cut the glittering wave. I shall sit at home, and rock. Rise, to heed a neighbor's knock; Brew my tea, and snip my thread; Bleach the linen for my bed. They will call him brave. //
Her skin is pale, A wash of gentle light;Her hair silver,Glittering with starlight, The girl born of moon and star. Her eyes piercing blue, As the blanket of sky, Her face upturned, All the relaxed beauty of night, The girl shimmering with light and dust. The moonlight drapes over her Clothing her in shimmering silver light, She dances with glittering grace, As the the dust of stars trails behind, The moonlight girl born for night //
Remembering Greece, I imagine you there now; naked, skilled in spells. Your toes in the sand, your bright green eyes radiant; island conqueress. //
O latest born and loveliest vision far Of all Olympus' faded hierarchy. Fairer than Phoebe's sapphire-region'd star, Or Vesper, amorous glow-worm of the sky; Fairer than these, though temple thou hast none, Nor altar heap'd with flowers; Nor virgin-choir to make delicious moan Upon the midnight hours; No voice, no lute, no pipe, no incense sweet; From chain-swung censer teeming; No shrine, no grove, no oracle, no heat Of pale-mouth'd prophet dreaming. //
Do you know what’s so special about Isak and Even though? What pulls you in and doesn’t let go? What’s so impossible not to fall in love with? What it is that gives you butterflies, that makes your heart beat speed up, that takes your breath away, that effects you in all these REAL ways?
…How unbelievably real their love feels, it’s all in the tiniest details, the visible sparkles in their eyes when they look at each other, all those delicate little touches, the way you see their skin ripple when they stroke each others faces, the way their whole faces light up in the biggest smile from the silly jokes and stupid statements they make, the way that their words are so softly uttered yet still so full of emotion.
The actors are so amazing, the directing, the scripts, the social media and texts…everything about it is so delicately done, with so much care and attention to detail that their world collides with ours and the characters become apart of our lives and apart of us.
I truly believe there with never be anything else quite like SKAM, it’s so rare and nothing else will ever come close, it’s a one time thing, a phenomenon that can never be replicated and I for one will always treasure it and look forward to season after season for as long as we have the pleasure of it being in our lives.
We fell out of love in a little town, the kind with one intersection where a yellow stop light still means slow down instead of speed up. And, oh boy, were we good at slamming on the breaks when we thought we may have gone over the speed limit.
I couldnt care less what people think sombra’s orientation is. Or any other character from any other fandom. Whatever you come up with is a headcanon and it’s fine. If people disagree with you that’s fine too, they can make their own content for their own headcanons. None of them need to conflict with each other, that’s what AUs are all about. And even if she was revealed as canonically (insert orientation here) you could still make whatever content you want because that’s the beauty of headcanons. But once you start arguing with other people about it, and trying to MAKE people follow a certain opinion, you’re an idiot and need to sit the fuck down.