this took me a lifetime

                      IT DOESN’T MATTER IF ANYONE COMES,

                                       because love is invincible.

                                              IMAGE CREDIT.

Pablo Picasso (Spanish, 1881 - 1973) 

Drawing Paolo (Paulo dessinant), 1923

Oil on canvas, 130 x 97 cm

***

“When I was their age, I was drawing as Raphael, but it took me a lifetime to learn how to draw like children”. Pablo Picasso

Confess

pairing: dean/cas

word count: 3k

summary: Dean just really wanted to celebrate a good hunt with the two most important people in his life. But things never go as planned, and when some stranger starts hitting on Castiel, it’s hard for Dean to keep his feelings to himself. 

additional tags: canon!verse, past s11

a/n: for the anon who requested this a lifetime ago, I’m sorry it took me so long. Thanks to @perennialcastiel , @winchestre and @shannon-kind​ for their sweet and important help <3

(ao3)


“Why are we leaving?” Castiel asks with honest confusion, leaning in between the driver’s and shotgun seat, his hands resting on both. 

Dean brings his gaze over to him, forgetting he is driving. His attention easily gets dragged away from the road by his brother or Cas.

“To celebrate.” He grins, looking ahead again. “We showed those assholes where they belong, huh? You killed so many in just a few seconds and well, you saw yourself how good Sammy did. Plus, it’s been ages since we’ve been out, especially the three of us together. I thought, y’know, it’d be fun.”

The excitement in his voice when he speaks of Cas and Sam is faded by the time he finishes his sentence. 

He shrugs. 

It sounds stupid when he says it like that, and part of him is afraid he’s the only one who feels this way. Like the three of them are a team, the three musketeers ready to save the day.

Keep reading

Michael Clifford at the iTunes festival. 
@5sos-official

(this gif has over 60 frames in it and it took me approx. three lifetimes to make if u steal it ill find ur house and burn it down)

alexdanverxs  asked:

Happy birthday to you! 🍰 🎶 one of the many things I love about Alex is her braveness, not just fighting aliens twice her size but in more personal issues

I’m so sorry it took me a lifetime to answer you! I tried to make it a very special one to make it up!

Alex stole this sweater after a year her father despaired and they thought he was dead. She gave it to him on father’s day, when she was 9, it’s still really big on her.  

pinkamaryllis46  asked:

Hello!! May I have a gif reaction of them ( including Hansol, Yuta, and Kun ) when they see a beautiful Latina girl, and they actually fall in love with her? Thank you very much, and have a wonderful day! :3 :3

First I want to start off by saying, I’m so sorry it took me forever and a lifetime to respond. I’ve been so busy and exhausted lately that I just haven’t had the willpower to respond to anything. I usually never make gif reactions because I’m lazy and terrible with technology. That being said, I will try and do this for you, but if not I’ll at least try and make a written post. Have an amazing day, or in my case night ⭐️

@thegcddamnwcrds 

The compound had cleared of Jerichos, other than Travis, of course, but that left room for another round of family visits. Kimberly, affectionately known as Kimber, had been there for a day so far, catching up with her brother and wondering what sort of shit he was into. She liked Lou. Loved Ollie. Her reaction to Travis had been what it always was; a bit of amusement, with a nice shot of lust. But even a blind man could see that Lou had his heart and soul.

She had spotted the one that Brandon simply referred to as fucker, and had found the first opportunity to get to know him. “It took me most of a lifetime to get under his skin so bad,  so I feel like I ought to buy you a drink or something. That took some serious skill.” She offered her hand. “Kimber. The good Ryan.”

Karaoke Night

Clint Barton x Reader

Request: Clint x reader where reader sings at a bar (my house by pvris) Clint is with Natasha and he couldn’t but fall in love with her voice and when she was done singing he went over to her and ask if she should like to go on a date with him and she agrees
Genre: Romance/fluff
Rating: T
Warnings: Swearings
2,008 words

Notes: HERE IT IS!!! Another one that took me a lifetime to finally write, I’m so sorry clouds-full-of-sadness. </3 I don’t know if it’s exactly what you wanted but I hope you enjoy it anyway! I hope y’all enjoy it even though it’s not my best…ugh. I’ll open the requests again soon, I promise. <3 Warn me if there’s any mistakes, alright? Love you all!


“I’m not letting you mope around for another Friday, (Y/N)!” Your friend, Cassie, chided and you let out a groan. “Seriously babe, you’re going. I don’t care.”

R.I.P my Netflix night…

“Why does it have to be a karaoke bar?” You asked in a mumble as Cassie shoved a black dress at your direction. “I hate karaoke bars, Cassandra.”

That was a complete lie. 

You actually loved karaoke bars very much. They were usually better than the regular ones and on the top of it, you could listen to good music and have a laugh at the awful singers. The atmosphere was cool and you loved that. 

Besides the fact that you loved to sing, too. 

Just not when you just had a shitty day at work and all you want to do is to put your high-heels-hurt feet up and relax. 

“No, you don’t.” Cassie replied as a fact and smirked. “You just think you hate because you end up drinking too much and singing to some shitty songs.”

Keep reading

legsa submitted:

For my sixteenth birthday, I got a new sexual and romantic orientation. 

I spent about two weeks opening neat little boxes wrapped in ace/aro pride flag paper. They took a high school girl’s lifetime to get to me. Other gifts travelled faster, but none of them instilled the same blend of fear, anxiety, and excitement inside of me. Inside were scenes from my life, laid out so plainly I spent the next three years wondering how I could’ve possibly missed it. 

In one scene, my mom is driving me to elementary school. I looked out the windows of the car, watching the route go by in a blur of green trees and brown shopping centers. I pictured what I would do about my wedding. All people get married someday, I knew - or thought I knew - but boys were icky. In my nine-year-old mind, I conceived the perfect plan: convince a good friend to dress like a boy, and then we would be able to get married. That way, I’d just get to live with a friend forever. What could be better?

In the next, I’m writing in a fuzzy white diary, a friend’s sleepover party weighing on my mind. Once again, I’d given no answer to the dreaded “who do you like?” question. Knowing I would never dream of being “boring” again, I scanned my mind for tolerable boys in my grade. My mind settled on a boy I’d never heard talk. He wasn’t annoying - sure, he’d do. I wrote down that I liked him because he “didn’t show that he was an idiot.” Maybe drawing hearts would make it real. Oh - maybe I should stare at him in class, too! I’m supposed to like this boy, after all. A few weeks later, another sleepover happened. Seven girls found out about my “crush”, and somehow, it magically disappeared overnight, and I was too young to feel true romantic attraction. 

I admired an American Idol contestant for a while. Then, I liked a few fictional characters. Was that love? My elementary school self didn’t want to kiss some twenty-something singer. I thought it was love, though. Does a twelve-year-old girl want a relationship with Remus Lupin? Of course not. I knew that wasn’t a crush, but I’ve still read Prisoner of Azkaban at least five times more than the other Harry Potter books. Untouchable people confused me the most. I didn’t know what to do with these scenes. For a while, I just assumed they made me straight. But there were several fictional characters I’d forgotten about: the ones who couldn’t just stay friends. Why did Kim Possible end up with Ron? Why did Lizzie McGuire end up with Gordo? In what way did Ned Bigby and Moze make any sense? It seemed that every time a boy and a girl were friends, they were thrown together. Growing up, I never had male friends. Girls were easier to talk to. Girls didn’t have to end up with their best friends. 

In eighth grade I was an overly invested “ally”. I only watched media with same gender relationships (some of it highly problematic; it makes me cringe) and insisted that straight people were inherently boring. Nowadays, I laugh at how close I came to discovering my true identity. I would look up famous LGBT+ people on Wikipedia and read about all the different sexual orientations. The list of famous asexuals included about 4 people, only one of who I’d heard of. Regretfully, I dismissed it as “uninteresting”, spent a few weeks trying to force other labels to fit me, and then settling uncomfortably on “straight”. 

The person who delivered the package was actually someone I hated. He was this kid on the swim team who somehow wormed his way into my friend group. One day, I was telling my friend about how I’d never had a crush before in my life, to which he responded ever-so-eloquently: “that’s bullshit!” I knew my experiences better than he did, but the exchange made me wonder just how strange it was. For two weeks, I read definitions of asexuality and aromanticism, flip-flopped between labels and combinations of labels, took several “are you asexual?” quizzes, and at last, I had my sixteenth birthday present in hand. Even then, I thought I was too young. What if my sexuality changed, and I’d told everyone the wrong thing? If that happened, would everyone tell me I just needed to “meet the right person”? (though now I know that meeting the “right person” wouldn’t make me any less asexual/aromantic) I didn’t want to prove anyone like that right, so I decided I would wait a while before telling anyone other than my best friend (who accepted it readily and understood my fears, being a lesbian herself).

I spent much of the month of June that year looking at myself in the mirror, thinking “I’m asexual” until I truly believed it. Three years have passed since then, and I feel completely secure with my sexual and romantic orientations. I never think of myself as straight. I have nothing in common with heterosexuality/heteroromanticism, and my friends and family have been nothing but supportive (though I’m honestly not sure my parents know … I hint at it very often, but older generations can be dense when it comes to ace/aro things). I am so proud to be ace/aro, and I wanted to share my story, in case it helps a person as confused as I was. Asexuality does not make you boring. I sing along to musical theatre soundtracks, write stories with my friend, make terrible puns, and study American Sign Language. I write ace-aro warriors, assassins, athletes, siblings, friends - all with different personalities, interests, quirks, and attitudes towards sex and romance. The ace and aro spectrums are filled with wonderful, diverse people. I am one of them.