window panes

the signs as lyrics from pretty. odd.
  • <p><b>Aries:</b> take a chance, take your shoes off, dance in the rain<p/><b>Taurus:</b> we're all too small to talk to God, yes we're all too smart to talk to God<p/><b>Gemini:</b> i want to go where everyone feels the same<p/><b>Cancer:</b> summers lasted longer than we do<p/><b>Leo:</b> who could love me? i am out of mind<p/><b>Virgo:</b> i missed your skin when you were east, you clicked your heels and wished for me<p/><b>Libra:</b> i wasn't born to be a skeleton<p/><b>Scorpio:</b> Laughing on the window panes, that never ending swaying haze<p/><b>Saggitarius:</b> losing the feeling of feeling unique; do you know what i mean?<p/><b>Capricorn:</b> we must reinvent love<p/><b>Aquarius:</b> words are just hollow birds, flying along<p/><b>Picses:</b> lying there with a halo in her hair, she cried<p/></p>

anonymous asked:

three word prompt: Dean, stitches, rain

The rain poured down on the little cabin, running over the gutters in streams, rattling against the window panes. It was a cold rain, the kind that threatens to continue for days, a deep autumn storm designed to leach away hope and warmth and sanity.

Inside the single room was lit by an LED lantern, the harsh glare shining over the scarred floors, the cold hearth, the sagging cots. 

Water ran off their clothes and onto the floor, a constant drip… drip… drip… that kept their teeth on edge and brought the harsh night inside. 

Blood formed a small pool on the table underneath her outstretched arm, a sanguine pool dully reflecting the outline of the lantern.

He was bent over her bleeding limb, green eyes focused, plush lips slightly parted on conversation. Apart from the little rivulets of water his hand was the only thing that moved, slowly drawing a hooked needle in and out of her skin and he stitched the rent flesh closed. 

Three word prompts!

anonymous asked:

How could you tell that taron has prescription glasses? Could we know how to identify them for other occasions in real life?

It’s super easy, anon. And yes, you can identify them on anyone.

First off, fake glasses have no prescription, therefore they do not distort images. They are made from either plastic or glass (same as prescription glasses), but have no real curvature or thickness to them to assist in vision like prescription ones do. Take any pair of regular, non-prescription glasses and look at something through it. There will be no distortion. It’s basically like looking through a window or a regular pane of glass. 

Now, take a look at Taron’s glasses in this Spanish Interview I posted last week. Here I’ve screen grabbed images to show what I’m talking about. In the first 2 pictures, you can see the distortion in the background of the mirror and the Kingsman sign.

That would not happen with fake glasses. If you look at the video, it’ll be hard not to notice all the background distortion going on through his glasses. It’s clear as day.

Now, I say he’s nearsighted because what happens with glasses with those who are nearsighted, is that it…compacts the image. It makes eyes appear slightly smaller and you can see an indent if you will when you see the side of someone’s face. The face essentially looks smaller. Depending on the prescription it can be very noticeable, or not that noticeable. Here’s 2 images which kind of shows what I mean.

As you can see, there’s a slight indent on the side of his face (most noticeable on his cheek) where the glasses are and his face goes in a little bit more than the rest of his face, which means he’s nearsighted. If you yourself have nearsighted glasses, put them on and look at the side of your face in the mirror, you’ll notice there’s a slight indent. I notice it on myself.

To show you what happens if someone is farsighted, you need not look any further than Taron’s appearance on Jonathan Ross. In the episode, Taron is given a pair of Eddie the Eagle-style glasses, which are pretty much coke-bottle glasses. These are used for farsighted people, and you can see the difference in that they magnify the face. Farsighted glasses have the opposite effect of nearsighted glasses. The eyes appear larger and the side of the face is…well blown out, you can’t even see it, at least not on Taron. Of course it does depend on the glasses, they gave Taron super thick ones, but you can get ones that aren’t so noticeable. But again, with farsighted glasses you would see a magnifying effect on the area covered by the glasses.

So…that’s how you can tell. 😀

anonymous asked:

Prompt: When Zelena comes back to SB preys on Henry's biggest fears that he's being replaced and that he'll be the outsider between Robin, Regina, and Roland. RB and if you can OB

This is probably completely terrible but it’s all that I could come up with, I’m sorry! 

The whispers come on the second night, soft murmurings that carry on the night breeze, flowing in through his open bedroom window whilst he sleeps. They infect his dreams, poison his thoughts in the place he is most vulnerable. They create images, twisted scenes of domestic happiness that he can only see with his face pressed against the window pane as he stands in the bitter cold of winter, looking in at his mother, smiling in a way that she hadn’t since he was the very same size as they little boy in her arms now. When he’d rub his cold nose against the tip of hers with her face in his pudgy little hands, when he’d snuggle in closer to her and whine at the way her chest would bounce with her laughter and he hadn’t known it for what it was then, could only see now as he gazed in on the scene he was excluded from.

“It’s your own fault,” the voices would whisper to him, lifting at the ends of his hair as the winds grew stronger around him, “you didn’t want her, they do…”


The scenes would change often, the images distorting, throwing him off balance for a brief moment before he’d find himself unable to open the gate at the park, unable to join in when Roland would tackle his mother, Robin chuckling at them both, unable to bound on through and make his Mom giggle just like Roland was doing and his gut would churn, his eyes would burn with the sudden hatred he’d feel for the family who had no right to his mother, no right at all. “They have more right than you…”

The worst, the very worst of the dreams would come when he was deepest in sleep and unable to escape with the sound of a creaking floorboard or a television turned too loud. No, he would find himself so very stuck within the bitterness of his mind, stuck standing outside of his own bedroom door, looking in as his mother sang gentle lullabies to the wrong child, as she’d stroke a hand through curled hair and whisper sweet loving words to her “little prince.” It burned inside of him, had him clenching fists and attempting to crash his hand through the wall beside him, unable every time to make contact and only bringing frustrating sobs with them.

It was when he woke though, when he’d be pulled from these terrible nightmares to feel gentle palms rubbing at the sweat on his brow, scraping back damp locks from his forehead. When he’d hear soothing words that brought him back to reality slowly, brought him back to the very fact that she was here, she was here sitting before him, she was cuddling him close, she was pressing kisses to his head and giving him her love that he’d feel the knot in his chest begin to loosen, that he’d find himself able to sink into her and remember that it was him that she’d fought for, it was him that she’d cried out for on so many nights when he’d rejected her and though she loved both Robin and Roland too (Henry was extremely fond of them both also when his clouded mind had cleared), he knew that it was he whose life she would lay down her own for. He was her son, before anything and anyone else in the world, he was her son and she was his mother and no amount of malicious mind tricks could take that away from either of them.