#feeding me a steady supply of beautiful art | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stusbunker · 5 years ago

Text

What Lingers Within: Eight

A Supernatural Fan-fiction Mini Series

Featuring: Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Written for: @thisismysecrethappyplace

Prompt: Amnesia

Word Count: 3925

Beta’d by the amazing @itmighthavebeenintentional

Aesthetic by @thoughtslikeaminefield

Divider by: @talesmaniac89

A/N: Set in season 11. Flashbacks are still in italics. Thanks for finishing this journey with me and all your patience! xoxo Stu

Series Masterlist

Dean woke up to an empty bed, which shouldn’t have been surprising, yet the realization that she wasn’t there beside him kept hitting him harder each day. She was asleep in the room next door; it was both reassuring and torturous having her so close, never close enough.

He stood outside her room and debated knocking. It was too early, he reminded himself. He let her sleep, like the day before and the whole week before that. Dean cursed Sam for giving her a room on his every path and headed to the kitchen for coffee. She shuffled in just after ten, looking blurry eyed and warm. Her hooded stare burned right through him as he handed her the mug that had already become hers.

“Got anything stronger?” she mumbled, trying to play tough. He didn’t buy it.

“You know, we’re not exactly on a strict schedule here. You could even go back to bed--- if you wanted.” Dean dipped his chin, gauging if he could keep prodding or step back.

“Sleep is dumb, and besides, my room is boring,” she pouted, cupping the mug in both hands.

“Thought Sammy had that laptop all set up for you?” Dean tried, brow knit in concern. She glanced up at him sheepishly, the heaviness inside reflected in her posture and the silent plea in her all-too-familiar eyes. Dean couldn’t help but soften as he continued, “Right, well, I was going to skip research today. If you’re up for it, we could do some target practice?”

Just as Dean had returned her small smile, Sam came in with a breathy, “Hey.”

Dean closed his eyes, unsuccessfully hiding from the disappointment before he turned to look at his brother. “Where’s the fire?”

“Sandusky, it’s--- probably her,” Sam’s voice was calm, but his eyes told Dean whatever it was, it was bad.

Dean nodded. “Okay, well, looks like I’m going to have to take a raincheck.” He faced her and saw all the unsaid things staring back at him. Tendrils frayed between them as he had to pull himself away again. “You gonna be okay by yourself? It’s gonna be a long drive, both ways.”

She rolled her eyes. “Are you kidding? I’m gonna be ransacking the place when you’re gone. How much do you think the Men of Letters shit will go for on Ebay?”

Dean shook his head, even though he felt Sam flinch behind him. “Yeah, well, don’t touch anything that isn’t labeled as safe, alright?”

“Go on, fight the good fight.” Her eyes sparkled with the forced casualness her wit always brought with it, letting them both off the hook.

Dean sat in the driver’s seat, squinting in the afternoon sunlight, watching the hospital entrance with growing trepidation. Cas walked out with Sam first, the blood along Sam’s collar the only remnant of his injury. They quietly slid into their respective seats. Dean mumbled a greeting, but continued to stare at the glass doors across the parking lot.

He ignored Sam’s sad puppy dog eyes and Cas’s perpetual confusion and waited, the keys grew sweaty in his hand against his thigh. She was discharged alongside Sam, though they played it off as a fender bender. Cas explained it all to her, as an off duty officer who happened to witness the ordeal and got them to the hospital in time.

Dean had little problem bludgeoning her car to back the story up.

Fourteen minutes after Sam and Cas made it to the impala, she wandered out of the revolving door and into the life Dean had left for her. His eyes trailed her up and down the rows until she found her crumpled sedan. She fought with the driver side door and he almost got out to help her, but she managed. He exhaled as she disappeared from sight.

His heart rotted inside his chest, arteries and veins strangled his lungs with the spreading poison. He sniffed and put the key in the ignition.

“Dean,” Sam started.

“Don’t. Don’t say her name.” Dean snapped. “You mention her ever again and I will break your fucking nose, I swear.”

Sam cocked his head and absorbed the rage in Dean’s words. He side-eyed Cas as they both agreed to those terms.

Her car creeped behind them as she navigated the overly complicated traffic pattern between the hospital buildings. He gave her three minutes before he eased out of their spot and back onto the road. The only proof of his life with her was shoved into his duffle and buried in the trunk. The proof that couldn’t be written on the back of his eyelids or settled in the bottom of his gut.

You stopped in the library for your laptop before settling at the kitchen table with a fresh cup of coffee. Your curiosity was piqued and a quick search brought up the horrors that had been unleashed in Ohio.

‘Four Dead, Seven Injured in Nursing Home Altercation’

You scrolled through the news story wondering how this spelled ancient dark being to Sam. In the weeks with the Winchesters, you had quickly learned what hunters looked for in order to sort out the regular awful and the freaky awful. It wasn’t until the last paragraph of the article that your blood ran cold.

The CNA that had called the cops said a woman in a black dress had been bent over the patient when she came to take the elderly man to the common room for lunch. But when she asked her if she was the patient’s granddaughter, the woman had disappeared. That patient went on to assault the others at lunch with his spork and his fists.

Naturally, the article questioned the eye witness’s credibility, but you knew better and so had Sam. You suddenly felt very scared for your hosts’ safety, despite their expertise.

You closed the computer as Dean’s face ran through your thoughts.

That night you did lunges down the web of hallways, muscles burning and face twisted in effort and bouts of laughter. It was ridiculous and if anyone had been home, you never would have dared, but it felt good to be silly and to use up the nervous energy that had been bubbling up inside since the guys had left.

It wasn’t that you couldn’t sleep, but rather that you slept fitfully. Katelyn’s voice snarled through your dreams, the feel of her spit on your hand mimicked by the sweat leaching from your body. You gave up after the second nightmare, texting Dean for an update in the middle of the night before you could think your way out of it.

Amara appeared to Dean fully grown, bathed in shadow. The hollows of her face were almost voids as she whispered in his nightmares. The nursing home was a tragedy they couldn’t stop, couldn’t fix. Amara was growing more powerful and there were plenty of souls in one place to feed from. Wherever she had been hiding, she didn’t wander out for long. It felt off.

She was the itch he couldn’t scratch in the back of his mind.

He didn’t want to keep chasing Amara, but the quicker she was off the board the better. It was a selfish desire, knowing he wasn’t fully himself since she had been released, but it aligned with the greater good, so he leaned into the hunt. The text he hadn’t replied to still stared back at him almost three days later.

There was no update to give and somehow he didn’t want to disappoint Y/N with a “no news” bullshit response.

The trail had dried up two days before Sam and Dean headed home, the unwillingness to quit wearing them both down to the edge of constant bickering. They stopped chasing their tails and settled on a couple of days to recoup before easing back into the usual hunts. Dean needed a win, but he couldn’t force Amara out of hiding, and even if he could, they had no way to end her anyway.

They got in close to eleven at night, creeping into the bunker so not to wake Y/N up. Sam showered first, and Dean sipped on a beer in the library before he decided to grab fresh pajamas and the shaving kit he kept in his attached half bath. But when he went into his room, he found a mound of blankets twisted in the middle of his bed, snoring lightly.

He felt suddenly self-conscious about the state he had left his room and tried to count back to when he had last changed his sheets. But that worry didn’t stop him from blushing with the rush of excitement seeing her in his bed once more gave him. He gently pulled the door closed, turning on the bathroom room light to let him grab his things.

She murmured something in her sleep and rolled over, causing Dean to freeze in panic. He was trained in the art of silence, but since she moved in, it felt like he had gained two left feet. Her breathing returned to a steady rhythm, letting him watch her from the wedge of light he stood in. Once his eyes readjusted he saw that she had brought in pillows from her room, but was only using his. He chuckled despite himself.

With a final glance at her sleeping silhouette, Dean left for that shower.

You were running through your office, rows of cubicles surrounded you like an endless forest. The click of heels on concrete followed you, despite the banal beige carpeting you were treading. Suddenly everything went dark and then you were looking down on yourself, hands around your own throat as you both inflicted and felt the pressure cutting off your air supply.

You woke up coughing uncontrollably, flailing in the dark against the non-existent double.

Your elbow hit something firm and you backed yourself into the corner of the nightstand, trying to escape.

“Hey, you okay?” Dean’s voice scratched through the dank confusion and you sat up, struggling to cover your chest and tummy with your bunched camisole.

“Dean? When’d you get home?” You coughed again, and swallowed thickly.

“A couple of hours ago.” Dean whispered, propped up on his elbow, he watched you. You slowly made out his features in the dark, pale skin a beacon, hooded eyes and wet lips. He was so beautiful and he was right there.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have come in here without your permission, it was just so quiet and being here made me feel sa---,”

“It’s fine, I mean, you’re still a blanket hog, but I know you haven’t been sleeping,” Dean reassured, before he shifted the pillows so he was propped against the headboard. “So, nightmares, huh?”

His hands rested in his lap, pajama bottoms firmly above the comforter, practically chivalrous. Especially after you had helped yourself to his bed.

“Yeah, mostly,” you admitted, swallowing once more, the phantom pain had started to ebb with the conversation. “I should go, let you sleep, you had a long drive.”

“Hey, come here.” Dean cocked his head, beckoning you to him as he opened his arms. You hesitated. Then he tipped his chin, and you were a goner. Awkwardly you situated your body against his chest, his strong arms framed you just so. “That’s better, in’it?”

You sank into his warmth, refusing to be self-conscious about being half naked in your tank top and sleep shorts, and just relished in the firmness of his body and how it supported yours.

He breathed in your hair, his lips grazed your forehead, and you squeezed him tighter.

“I never wanted to be the bad guy. I don’t know what to do now, don’t know how to deal with this guilt,” you explained, staring at the slats on the bottom of the door.

Dean pulled back to look you in the eye. “You did what needed to be done. That bitch was going to kill you. There is nothing wrong with defending yourself.”

“I know. It’s just--- this--- being a fugitive is not where I ever thought I’d be,” you admitted, eyes closed in pained shame.

The moments ticked away, the weight of your words increasing as your breathing fell in sync with Dean’s. His thumb tapped a gentle rhythm against your side, as you rested your head on his shoulder. You were so close you weren’t sure if you were smelling or tasting him.

“Life on the run ain’t easy.” Dean shifted so your head fell over his heart. “But I do know you can’t lose yourself to guilt. Trust me, there are things that I have done that still keep me up at night. It doesn’t bring them back, it doesn’t undo anything. Except for maybe your sanity.”

He let out a sad three-beat-laugh.

“Just keep doing what’s right. Make the world better in your own little way and hope that someday you’ll find your own absolution,” Dean spoke as if he was a million miles away.

A moment before you thought better of it, you asked, “Have you found yours?”

Dean stiffened in your arms and then exhaled, his fingers threaded through your hair. Slowly he relaxed again, his chest and arms softening to the point of you forgetting which parts were him and which bits were you.

“Right now, it feels like I might,” Dean whispered in response to the question you almost forgot you had asked. You blushed beneath the implication, the warmth between you intensifying Dean’s natural magnetism. His honeyed voice and steadfast embrace was hypnotic amidst the exhausted chaos of your thoughts.

“Dean, I ---?”

Dean hummed in response before he shushed you. “It’s fine, just try and go back to sleep.”

You fell silent, the emotions rolling through you in waves of strung out anticipation and tempering doubt. In the end your mind stopped trying to stay afloat and let you sink into the depths of a ragged slumber.

Then one night, you slept. It wasn’t exactly refreshing, and it wasn’t perfect, but it was something. The fact that you had been crawling into Dean’s bed each night, may have helped.

Deep down, you felt the shift in your psyche: a glacial slide, the gradual progress of accepting what you had done which sprouted the fissuring magmic ooze that was hardening you into something new. Forged yet still fragmented, you bent to each sweltering degree as you navigated the impossible almost Dean and you had stumbled into.

Dean was in love with you.

You felt it first when he called you honey and invited you to breakfast all those weeks before. And you knew it the moment he shared your past in a handful of worn photographs. Unfortunately, you just didn’t know if he loved the you that you were becoming or the woman you had been. Your past self, which you didn’t even know.

Both possibilities were equally terrifying.

Winter slid into Kansas like a muddied dog, invasive and messy. Your usual and completely unscheduled call from Michelle told you that you were expected back for Christmas. No excuse, safe for an actual arrest, would suffice. You could almost taste your aunt’s green bean casserole already. You smiled to yourself, imagining Dean in an ugly sweater as Sam, oblivious, would knock his forehead on Michelle’s dubiously placed mistletoe.

Because, of course, they were invited too. Not that you would have gone without them at your side; they were as much your family now as Michelle and her parents had always been.

You hung up without promising your cousin anything except that you would stay safe. Though Dean and Sam were never in the bunker for long, you were fairly certain you could persuade them to take a few days off for a real, home-cooked, holiday meal. You just didn’t know if you would be bringing your roommates/ bodyguards or if you would be bringing whatever it was Dean had become and his brother.

That would require you to address the real problem. One far scarier than the temporal question of Dean’s affections.

You hadn’t let yourself fall for Dean. Not completely. You had been holding your breath, so oxygen deprived that you had developed tunnel vision. And no matter how patient or generous Dean had been, he couldn’t get you to acknowledge the silent, unanswered question in his eyes.

No amount of cuddles or lips brushed warmly over your forehead or strong arms that held you through the terror of your nightmares had emboldened you to fully reciprocate his affections. You remained simultaneously in his arms and proverbially a day’s drive east.

The problem was if you let yourself love him, you would be giving him permission to hurt you. Again.

You had time, you told yourself, before you would be introducing your aunt and uncle to the Winchesters. And you would drag your feet the entire two and a half weeks until then.

One week later

The half-truths had grown comfortable, expected, predictable. Dean and Sam would return from a case and Y/N would have food in a crock pot or beer and popcorn waiting for them to unwind before bed. She would duck out early, and then Sam. Dean would have another drink alone, telling himself he’d be brave enough to say something if she turned up at his door again.

He had too many misgivings about what she’d say. It wasn’t fair to make it about him when she’d get so riled up after the nightmares.

It was better to wait for the morning.

“Dean?” Her voice broke through his internal rationalizing, and he held his breath. She wasn’t upset, no tension nor tears. The look in her eyes felt like a punch to the gut.

“What’s up?”

She laughed dismissively, a short trill ending on disbelief. “You didn’t even hear me, did you?”

“Uh, no, not really. Come on in.” Dean stepped back, letting her in once again with his heart in his throat.

“We should talk,” she repeated.

“About?” Dean rested his hands on his hips, straightening himself as he watched her crawl into his desk chair and perch, heels along the edge, as she hugged her knees.

“Us?” She made it sound like he was slow. His eyebrows shot up; this was happening.

“Okayyyyyy,” Dean trailed off. She gave him nothing back. “What specifically do you want to talk about?”

“You’re in love with me.” She smiled that secret keeping half-smile.

He huffed in exasperation, but couldn’t help but smile back. “Really? You’re sure about that?”

“Mmm-hmm.” She nodded.

“So?”

“Sooooooo, it’s your turn.” She looked up at him, chin jutted out, challenging.

“My?” Dean stammered, hand curled at his own chest. “You’re saying--- that I need to---- I don’t know, diagnose your feelings?”

“Yup.”

She was going to be the death of him, that shit-eating grin already creeping up on her lips as she watched him huff and puff and try to pull himself together. He looked at her like a deer trapped in headlights, and she looked back; he felt like he was going to melt under the pressure.

“I mean---- I don’t---- What do you want me to say?!” Dean chuckled self-deprecatingly. He dropped to the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees as he started at the floor, but finished to her face. “Christ, I know what I want to say, but I can’t say it for you, Y/N. You have to mean it.”

“And what if I do?” Her feet fell to the floor as she leaned on her palms. She seemed somewhere between coming fully back to him and flying away for good.

Dean started to let the hope sneak in. “Well, I was kind of thinkin’ you would’ve shown me already.”

Time stopped.

She launched at him, and just as he caught her, a notch above the waist, her lips stole his breath. He gave it away willingly, until there was no more to spare.

Triumph. Relief. Yearning answered.

Dean’s arms curled around her body, clutching her to him as her momentum pushed their top halves onto the bed. It felt like a dream; Dean wouldn’t open his eyes ever again.

They tasted and teased each other, lips and tongues, whispers and snickers. She looked down at him like he hung the goddamned moon, and he prayed he’d never do anything again that would change that. He swallowed, not sure what to say next, unwilling to break that impossible moment.

It just got better.

She left a trail of punctuated kisses up his jaw and whispered in his ear. “I love you, too, you idiot.”

In a flash, Dean rolled you onto your back, sliding you fully onto the bed at last. He practically purred as he nuzzled your pulse point before leaving a sloppy kiss behind your ear. You shivered, bolts of electricity shot through your body, burning from the inside out.

“I--- just let me tonight,” Dean insisted, hands in your hair as he pleaded over your lips. “Please?”

“Be my guest.” You didn’t know where all that nerve had been buried, but it was reassuring to find your footing after so long.

He kissed you dizzy, stubble scraping and lips soothing. Slowly you were able to lay down your worries, alongside your clothing. With each brush of his mouth over your body you became lighter, leaving behind the fear and the uncertainty for something you’d never thought you’d get: trust and understanding.

True acceptance.

You fell into the moment, head first and determined, enjoying the knowledge he had retained of your body as he planted a firm palm over the thick roll of flesh above your mound, holding you in place before he dove in.

His tongue told you that you were wanted, his fingers showed you how you were cherished, revered. His lips were lingering reminders that he wasn’t leaving again, that you were just where you were meant to be, that he needed to show you all the things he couldn’t say out loud.

That you came first, always.

Bursting and brilliant, Dean saw to it, gentle yet persistent.

He never stopped touching you, aching to hold you as long as you’d let him. Maybe longer. He crawled his way back up your body, nuzzling your nose with his before you got your mouth back on him. You drank in his now tangy desperation.

You locked him in the cradle of your legs, telling him you were just as invested, a puzzle completed. Together you found your rhythm, your promises matched and measured. It was everything, and it was easy: no confusion or second guessing, just bliss. Dean’s moan broke on your name, and you felt it as if it had been the thousandth time, not your first.

It was you and Dean, forever as it had always been. These feelings had always existed, and they would never leave because not even the host of heaven had been able to snuff them out. They had lingered within you, and now that they were fulfilled, you knew you were going to make it in this uncertain life.

Because as scared as you were, you were certain of Dean. And he’d never stopped betting on your ability to keep fighting, to pull through all on your own.

His faith in you had seen you through the mess with Katelyn and years of unknown memories. Now you had nothing but time to regain what you’d lost, because lost things always have a way of finding their way home.

Series tags: @tiggytaylor @vicmc624 @kalesrebellion

General SPN tags: @flamencodiva @dolphincliffs @dontshootmespence @thoughtslikeaminefield @fangirlxwritesx67 @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis @cosicas-cuquis @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler @ericaprice2008 @princessofthefandomrealm @wingedcatninja

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester fanfiction #what lingers within #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester smut #dean winchester x reader #dean/reader #dean/you #dean x reader #amnesia fic

71 notes · View notes

bazzybelle · 5 years ago

Text

Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Bat! AKA Bat-Baz II: Electric Bazaloo

Note: I feel I should explain for those new to the beauty and wonder that is Bat-Baz. It started with THIS piece of art by the talented @parijpg (give them 100000% credit for starting the whole Bat-Baz craze). I was so inspired to write that THIS happened (Original Bat-Baz Fic).

If you scroll through the reblogs of that fic, you’ll find some QUALITY ART by the lovely @subpar-selkie !

I was going to end it there, but THIS (adorable BAT) and THIS (more quality content from @subpar-selkie ) were posted this week… So, I caved and wrote ANOTHER BAT-BAZ fic!

It’s the (not very highly) anticipated sequel to Love is Blind (As A Bat). Definitely not as good as The Godfather: Part II, but hopefully better than the straight-to-VHS/DVD/Blu-Ray Disney sequels.

Thank you to @carryonsimoncarryonbaz for the beta-reading, @giishu , and @f-ing-ruthless-baz for yelling at encouraging me to post this story, and @fight-surrender for bothering me this week and cheering me up and making sure I don’t feel too alone this week.

Enjoy… and I’m so sorry.

PS: Also, posting this on AO3. If you want, you can read it HERE.

__________

SIMON

“How many times do I have to tell you!? Rowling’s spells are dodgy at best!”

Baz is yelling on the phone to his half-sister Mordelia. He looks absolutely exhausted, and I can’t say I blame him for taking it out on his little sister. He just spent the better part of the evening as a small black bat, and must be beyond mortified. Anyone who knows Baz Pitch, knows that he usually deals with his embarrassment with snark and (on occasion) misdirected anger. In this case, the anger is very well-directed. It seems Mordelia was responsible for turning him into a bat in the first place.

“I don’t care what spell you were trying to accomplish! Her spells are as problematic and preposterous as she is! She’s barely a magician herself, if we’re being honest.”

I feel like I need to calm Baz down as he’s quickly heading towards one of his famous tirades. I start to run my fingers through his hair and plant a small kiss on his shoulder. Baz’s grey eyes meet my eyes and he sighs heavily. He grabs onto my hand and gives it a small squeeze.

“I know it wasn’t done on purpose, Mordelia, but you need to be careful! You’re starting Watford in the autumn and I highly doubt your classmates will appreciate you turning them into winged mammals.”

I choke back a snort as I think about the hijinks Baz’s sister will get into once she begins her Watford education. Images of a frozen moat in January, and enchanted snowball fights (you can enchant them so they follow the intended target like a tracker – Baz had gotten me a few times that way) fill my mind. I start to lightly scratch Baz’s back and I feel his muscles beginning to relax. I just hope he ends his call soon, so I can have my boyfriend back to his calm, arrogant self.

“I shall be coming back tomorrow to collect my… belongings. If you so much as breathe on my clothes or my mobile, I will not hesitate to turn you into a tarantula!”

Baz finally hangs up and tosses my mobile back to me. He starts rubbing his eyes and groans heavily. I continue to rub his shoulders and start to nuzzle his arm. He turns to me and offers small, tired smile.

“I apologize for that, Simon. But I’d like to think you’d be the same way if you’d just spent the better part of your evening flying from Hampshire to London. I can barely feel my arms.”

“Would you like me to rub your shoulders for you, then?” I ask him. Baz raises an eyebrow and smiles coyly at me.

I place myself behind him and start to knead my fingers into the space where his neck meets his shoulders. My thumbs press deep circles into his shoulder blades. I am careful to not touch his hair, nor the base of his neck (he flinches when I get too close to where he was bitten – it’s not nearly as bad as it used to be when I first massaged him, but I’d rather not risk it).

I hear a soft sigh coming from Baz. I want to continue, but I’m noticing his head lolling forward. I stop my back rubbing and sit back down next to him. I take note of his eyelids beginning to droop. I move some hair from his face and he smiles dreamily at me.

“Did you need to feed before going to bed?” I ask him. Baz shakes his head slowly.

“I fed right before all this started.” Baz gestures towards his body. I lift myself from the bed and gather some pyjamas for him. I toss them to the bed and grab a pair for myself.

“Here. I’ll warm you up some blood, just to be safe, while you change.” Baz rolls his eyes at me, but I’m already out the door before he can protest any further.

I walk into the kitchen to see that the spell books and materials have already been cleared out. I’ll have to thank Penny properly tomorrow, for her help tonight. I suppose a breakfast of her favourite pancakes (banana-blueberry) is enough to show my gratitude. I heat up some blood we keep on hand in the fridge (several butcher’s shops carry a steady supply). I also take some time to make a few sandwiches for him (and for myself… I get hungry when I worry). Before going back into the bedroom, I quickly change into my pyjamas and wash up (Baz must be beyond exhausted if he didn’t even think to freshen up in the bathroom, which means he’ll be cranky tomorrow).

When I get back into the bedroom, Baz is already settled into the bed, eyes closed, and sheets pulled up to his chin. I can feel my heart softening for him, he’s had an impossibly long day. I kneel down beside him and run my hand through his hair. His eyes open slowly. I place the sandwiches on the night stand and hand him a mug with some blood inside.

“I’m fine, Snow” He slurs, but accepts the mug regardless. He downs it in a matter of seconds (Prat… Was probably more thirsty than he let on), and places the mug on the nightstand, next to the plate (he doesn’t touch the sandwiches, which is fine, he’ll eat when he wants to). I climb into the bed and wrap my arms around his waist. Baz settles in as well. I hold him for a little while as I feel him beginning to doze off.

I plant a few small kisses on his shoulder as I start to fall asleep as well.

BAZ

A rumbling in the pit of my stomach startles me awake. I clutch at my abdomen as I attempt to recall when I had last eaten. I rub my eyes,wondering what time it is. I glance at the window and see the dark skies of the night. I wonder how long I’ve been asleep for, as I glance at Simon still sleeping peacefully beside me. His lips are opened slightly (mouth-breather) and he has his arms pulled tight against his chest. I move to give him a small kiss, when my stomach rumbles again.

Right… should probably take care of that first. I look to the night stand and remember the sandwiches that Simon made. I stare at him as I eat slowly (I’ve been practicing controlling my fangs… the only good thing to come out of America), feeling so grateful for the beautiful disaster in my life. I would never ask him to do what he did for me tonight, but Simon does it anyway, just as I would for him. I finish off a couple of sandwiches from the plate, and bring the dishes back to the kitchen. I brush my teeth in the bathroom (exhausted as I am, I still maintain proper hygiene) before heading back into bed with Simon.

I face him and watch him for a moment as he sleeps soundly, chest slowly rising and falling. I reach over and run my fingers through his hair. I plant a small kiss on his lips (I never want to relive the experience of my boyfriend kissing me in bat-form ever again).

An all too familiar feeling begins to arise as soon as my lips leave Simon’s. The splitting headache, the light-headed feeling, and most importantly, the blinding pain shooting up my back. I leap out of bed and I shout to alert Simon, but all that comes out of my mouth is a small, garbled chirp.

Seven snakes! Not again!

I rush to wake him up, but my head suddenly feels so heavy… and I cannot keep my eyes open for much longer… And my stomach begins to lurch.

I feel myself crumple onto the bedroom floor…

At least Simon will know it’s me this time. I think as I hit the floor and become shrouded in darkness…

SIMON

I don’t feel Baz in bed with me as I wake up. I rub my hand on his side of the bed and feel it empty. My eyebrows furrow as I slowly lift myself up from bed. It’s strange for Baz to be awake before I am.

“Baz?” I call out groggily. I look over to his side of the bed once more and notice his pyjamas in a pile on the floor.

“Fuck!” I yell out as I jump out of bed. If there was something I could be sure of, it’s that my boyfriend would NEVER leave his clothing in a messy pile on the side of the bed. Something must have happened to him… again!

Panic rises in my throat as I search through the clothing. I’m hoping with everything in me that I don’t find ash or anything else that could indicate my deepest fears.

Everything seems to be normal, but I notice tiny claw marks within the fabric of the pyjamas. My eyes widen as I piece the clues together.

Bloody fucking hell! Not again!

My eyes dart around the bedroom for any sign of Baz hiding. I begin to search through the darker corners of the bedroom, each spot turning up empty. With every empty spot, I start to panic a little more. Did he get out? Did he get stuck somewhere? Merlin, are there any stray cats that could have gotten inside?

“Baz!? Stop being such a wanker! Where did you get to?!” I call out. When I don’t hear an answer, I stomp through the bedroom door and into the kitchen, where I see Penny, sitting calmly, drinking some tea and eating cereal.

“Good morning Simon.” She tries to say to me, but I ignore her as I start to desperately search the flat for any sign of Baz, or any place he could be sleeping (is he a nocturnal bat? Does it matter? Is his curse following the rules of his anatomy or that of a bat?).

Penny tries calling out to me again, but I’m currently flipping over throw pillows and searching under the sofa.

“Simon… What on Earth…”

“Baz is missing again! Except he’s also a bat again! And I can’t find him!”

I start to move the bookcase, rattling the books and objects placed carefully inside. The organization was Penny and Baz’s doing. They argued for weeks on how to organize the books (Penny wanted alphabetically; Baz by the Dewey Decimal system – which I’d have never even known about, but I’m in love with an impossibly intellectual tosser), but settled on a system that worked for both of them. I’m now mucking up that system, by moving and shifting things around. I’m wondering if Baz found his way behind on the of the books. Maybe his wing got caught somewhere.

“Simon… you should maybe…” She joins me by the bookshelf, but I avoid her and head into the kitchen. I’m thinking that maybe Baz got into one of the cupboards (were they opened last night?)

“Not now Penny!” I open every cupboard in the kitchen and look inside. Nothing. No Baz. I begin to tug the curls in my head, as I think about other places he could have gotten into.

Penny has joined me by the cupboards. I feel her grabbing my wrists. “Simon!” she shouts at me, finally forcing me to look up at her. She points to her head. Plopped calmly and looking at me like I’m impossibly thick, is Baz. Once again, he’s a bat.

“Bloody hell, Baz! You can’t scare me like that!” I reach out my hands, and he hops into them. Bat-Baz nuzzles his face between the space between my thumb and index finger. I bring him up and plant a kiss on top of his head. Penny scratches him behind his wings.

“I found him perched upside down on the lamp, fast asleep. Nearly gave me a heart attack. He woke up not too long ago and found his way to me. What happened? I know you were joking about trying new things with him… But… did you ask him to change back, Simon?!”

I stare at her, mouth open wide and eyes boring into her. Does she actually think I would put Baz through another round of transformations all for a little excitement? I look at Bat-Baz, and he’s giving her the exact same look.

“For Crowley’s sake, Penny! No! I woke up and he was gone! He must have changed again during the night!” My comments are backed up by Bat-Baz’s frantic chirping and wing-flapping. I try to sush him and start rubbing the back of his wings. It worked to calm him down yesterday, and it seems to do the trick today. Bat-Baz starts licking my hand, and while I think that’s adorable and sweet, I don’t want to think about my bat-boyfriend in this way… lest it start affecting our intimate moments.

Penny starts scratching her head and frowns down at Bat-Baz. “I’m wondering if the spell last night worked at all? Is this a side-effect of that spell? Did it mix badly with the spell that made him a bat in the first place?”

“What do you suggest we do?"

Penny stifles a small laugh, "Maybe try and figure out what bats eat? It seems we’ll be stuck here for a while.” Her comment is met with angry chirps from Bat-Baz. If I wasn’t holding onto him as tight as I was, I’m fairly sure he would be attempting to jump at Penny.

“Oh! I didn’t mean it Basil!” Penny tries to pet him, but he hisses at her. I turn my back towards her and lift Bat-Baz to my face. He is not amused at this situation, but I still frown at him.

“Baz… I know you’re pissed off, but try and calm down, yeah”. I turn to Penny, who’s stuck her tongue out at him. I shake my head at her.

“And you! Now is not the time to take the piss out of anything.” Penny looks away, ashamed and I can’t help but roll my eyes. Since when am I the responsible one out of this group? I place Bat-Baz on my shoulder and head to the kitchen. I need to make myself some breakfast before trying to tackle this mystery.

I look at Bat-Baz, who’s started nuzzling my face, and just wanting to stay as close to me as possible. Baz hates feeling vulnerable in any way, and being changed into a tiny animal, without his strength and his magic… yeah, pretty fucking vulnerable, if you ask me. I pick him up again and look into his eyes (fuck… they’re still grey…). I feel my heart break a little as I stare at them, because they look devastated.

“Hey… don’t be like that. We’re going to figure this out.” I speak in a small soft voice to him, but Bat-Baz looks away from me. I run my thumb over his little head a few times and his eyes close. A tiny, sad chirp escapes him as he leans into my touch. He starts licking me again. I bring him closer to my face.

“I promise, Baz. If anything, this proves even further that we match… y’know… ‘cause of the wings.” I give my wings a small flap as Bat-Baz rolls his eyes.

“I know you’re laughing on the inside, Baz. Come on. I’ll try to find you something to eat.” I give him a small peck on his bat lips and leave him to perch on the edge of my wing. I start to look through the refrigerator for any fruit or blood (seriously… what do bats eat? What kind of bat is he? I mean… vampire bat makes sense, but is that a little too on the nose?).

I don’t notice the bright purple glow surrounding Baz’s small form. I feel him swooping down from my wing and see him flying desperately towards the bedroom. I slam the refrigerator door shut and run after him. Penny tries to follow, but I shut the door before she gets too close. She begins to knock on the door.

“Simon! What’s going on! Is he changing back?”

“Yes Penny! He’s changing back!” I breathe a sigh of relief as Baz turns back into himself (again, completely starkers… probably the only side effect of the spell I can’t be mad about). I rush to him and wrap my arms around him. He leans his head on my shoulder and breathes heavily into me. I run my fingers through his hair and start rubbing his back. He lifts his head and his eyes meet mine.

“At least we know how to change me back.” He says. I start to laugh.

“Fat lot that’ll do, until we know what causes the transformation to happen. D’you remember what happened before you changed?” Baz leans down and presses his hands together. He starts shaking his head. Another series of knocks pounds through the room. Penny’s voice rings out, loudly.

“Is he back to his grumpy self, then?!”

Baz glares at the door. I sigh as I get up and fetch some clothes for him to wear. If we’re going to have a discussion about breaking his spell (or I suppose it’s more of a curse at this point), Penny should be a part of it.

“I’d like to see you maintain a cheery demeanor when spending most of your time as a tiny winged mammal, Bunce!” Baz barks, while slipping on one of his shirts. Now that he’s decent, I should go open the door. Before I do, I walk up to him and cup his face in my hands. I make sure he’s looking at me

“We’re going to figure this out. Trust us, okay?” Baz smiles at me and nods.

“Okay.”

I give him a small smile and softly kiss him once more. Baz reaches up and starts to caress my shoulders. I press further into him, when a pained moan escapes his lips. I quickly back, worried that I hurt him. Baz’s eyes are opened wide, and panicked. I grab his wrists and try to get him to look at me, but it won’t work.

“Baz? What’s happening?” I try to ask him.

“Simon! It-” His speech is cut short by a series of loud, hysterical chirping. He finally looks at me for a few moments, before collapsing onto the bed. I manage to catch him and lie him down, but I can already see the transformation happening. To my horror, he starts glowing and shrinking into his clothes.

“Fuck! Shit! Baz… Why’s this happening?”

Merlin, Morgana, and Methuselah! How many times has it been now? I notice a small lump moving around inside the sweater. I look inside to see a furious Bat-Baz. I cup him in my hands and walk sadly towards the door. I open the door to a Penny with her hands on her hips. She frowns at the bat-boyfriend in my hands.

“Wasn’t he just changed?”

“He was! That didn’t last very long.” I set Bat-Baz back on my wing. He calmly perches upside-down and wraps his tiny body in his wings. I think he wants to be left alone for now. I don’t blame him.

“Well, what happened now, Simon!?”

“I don’t know Penny! All I did was tell him that we’d fix things and then he changed again!” I stomp out of the bedroom and head back to the kitchen. I whip open the refrigerator and pull out some eggs and fruit. I decide to make myself some breakfast and cut up some fruit for Baz. Maybe some food will calm us both down.

Penny follows me into the kitchen and leans on the wall as I cook the eggs. “Is that all you did, Simon?” she asks me. I slam the spatula in my hand down on the counter and turn to her, hands raised above my head.

“Oh of course! I forgot to mention the secret demonic ritual I had Baz perform so that he can stay a bat at my whim!” I notice that my wings start flapping. I take a deep breath and calm myself down. The last thing I want to do is send Bat-Baz accidently hurtling across the room because I’m throwing a tantrum.

Penny places a calm hand on my shoulder. “No! But did you do anything else?”

I sigh and run my hands through my hair, trying to think of anything that could have done this to him. The only thing I can think of is the kiss I gave him. But that can’t be it. It was what changed him back to his normal vampire-self. I shrug at Penny. “I don’t know… I kissed him. But I alway-”

“AHA!” Penny shouts in my ear. Her sudden exclamation causes me to jump back and violently flap my wings, which in turn sends Bat-Baz flinging off. Thankfully, he catches himself before hitting anything and flies up. He dives towards Penny, who ducks for cover. Bat-Baz starts screeching at her, before I step in between them. He lands on my head and buries himself in my curls. I turn back to Penny, who’s wearing a small apologetic look on her face.

“Well? What is it, Penny?” Penny stands up and straightens her plaid skirt.

“The kisses Simon. We know that kisses turn him back into a human. Well what if they work both ways?” Penny grabs an apple and begins to slice it. She places a thin slice in her hand and holds it up towards my head, a small peace offering, I suppose. Bat-Baz perkes up and sniffs the apple slice in Penny’s hand. He slowly hops into her palm and starts to eat the apple slice.

Merlin… My heart melts to watch them. I snap out of it and continue my discussion.

“Both ways?”

Penny starts to scratch Bat-Baz behind the wings. He continues to eat his apple slice. “Yes. Like how we spell your wings off until a bell rings?” I nod at her, pressing her to go on. “Well maybe this is similar. Since we connected it to a Bat-Man spell.”

“What does Bat-Man have to do with this?” I finally finish cooking my eggs and place them on a plate. Penny has placed Baz on the counter and continues to slice small apple slices for him. He starts to eat them slowly. I start shoveling the eggs in my mouth. Bat-Baz looks up at me, and I didn’t think a bat could look so disgusted… but there you go. Penny’s got the same look on her face, so maybe it’s just me.

Penny heads towards the refrigerator. She opens it and starts to look for something inside. “Think about it Simon. Bat-Man is all about living your life within a duality. Maybe the spell was not literal enough. Instead of changing a bat into a man. It allowed for a more controlled dual life. Controlled by your kisses, it seems” She pulls out one of the containers of blood, we keep on hand for Baz. She hands it to me and motions towards the stove. I eat some more of my eggs and get started on heating some of the blood. I don’t suppose we need very much of it right now.

Penny grabs a small saucer from the cupboard. I spoon a tiny amount of blood into the saucer and set it in front of Bat-Baz. He gives it a look and looks up at Penny and me, with drooping ears. I sigh at him.

“Honestly, Baz. It isn’t a big deal if we see you feed. You should feed so that you feel better.” He doesn’t make a move toward the blood, instead focusing on the apple slices. I grumble to myself and grab Penny by the arm, leading her away from Bat-Baz.

“So… What, I can’t ever kiss Baz again? What sort of rubbish is that?” I hear angry chirping, signifying Baz’s agreement that our situation is in fact rubbish.

Penny lifts her glasses from her head. She grabs a small piece of cloth from her skirt pocket and begins to clean them. “Don’t be dramatic, Simon. There is a solution to this. We just have to go to the source of the spell.” I groan, because that means we have to call Mordelia and ask her what spell she used and I do not feel like talking to her. I look over towards the kitchen counter.

“Baz? You done in there?” A series of small chirps tells me that he’s done feeding. I go back to the kitchen. I clean up the saucer and plates, while Baz finishes up the apple slice he’s been eating. I pick him up and he starts licking my hand again (I’ve gotten used to it by now… seeing as we won’t be allowed to kiss until this spell is broken, we’ll have to find more creative ways of showing affection towards each other). Penny looks over at us and makes a face.

“Nicks and Slick, Basil! Maybe I need to spell a small pouch to put you in so that you allow Simon the use of his hands!”. Bat-Baz looks up at her and glares. I bring him up and kiss the top of his head.

“She isn’t serious… Right Penny?” She shrugs and walks away. I frown at her and look down at Bat-Baz who… actually has a sneer on his face. I head towards the bedroom.

“Come on… Let’s turn you back into my Baz.”

BAZ

Simon is leaning against my arm, reading a graphic novel adaptation of Interview with a Vampire (I bought it for him recently, after he would not stop asking me about Anne Rice).It’s taking everything in my willpower to not kiss him right now. All I have to do is think about how uncomfortable it is to move about as a bat and my desires to kiss him disappear (almost disappear… or rather… momentarily disappear. I am a constant disappointment to myself, after all). I have chosen to browse through The Vampire Lestat. It is the homework that Bunce has given to us. She has settled herself on the kitchen table, reading the atrocious Twilight books, while furiously writing down notes. I look down at my own neatly written notes, and the few sentences that Simon’s managed to scribble down (with my gentle coaxing).

We had been going at this all day. After our unconventional breakfast, Simon took me into the bedroom and privately changed me back into my nearly human form. We then (well, mostly me, Simon was pacing about the flat the entire time, while Bunce took extensive notes) called my irksome little sister to ask her what spell she was trying to cast.

Apparently she thought it absolutely brilliant to try and cast Expecto Patronum. According to Mordelia, she was hoping to know what her patronus was, and I just happened to show up at the wrong time. She insisted that “it would have worked had you not shown up, Basil!”. After berating her for nearly an hour on how impossible the very notion of a patronus was (the closest thing could be a familiar, but even that is rare), I once again threatened to turn her into an abhorrent arachnid before hanging up the phone.

We came to the conclusion that I was turned into a bat because, well, if patronuses did exist, it was very possible that mine would be a bat (at least that was the explanation Bunce offered, I personally think it’s bollocks).

Which brings us to our homework session. Bunce believes that in order to turn me back into my full-self, we needed to create a spell that brings forth my true nature (hence the diverse selection of vampire-related literature).

For now, I am scanning the pages of my book, while Simon lazily lies against my shoulder. I look over at him, to see him smiling up at me. I smirk back at him. Simon reaches over and gently tucks a strand of my hair behind my ear. I lean towards him and touch my nose to his. He begins to caress my face and I lean into his soft touch.

I realize too late that his lips have made their way to mine.

I pull back in fear. Simon is wearing a look of shock… which soon changes into one of instant regret.

“Fuck! Bollocks! I forgot!” He yells, which gets Bunce’s attention. She runs towards the sofa, but I can already feel the transformation taking over. I give Simon an angry sneer.

“I swear to Crowley, Snow. I-” my hand clamps over my mouth as a loud chirp escapes it. My head once again feels dizzy and I feel sweat beads on my brow. I lean over and put my head down to steady the all-too-familiar sensation of sickness and lightheadedness. I can hear Simon next to me apologizing profusely. I reach for his hand and hold it tightly. I don’t have much time before I am a bat again, and although I am cross with him, I don’t wish for him to beat himself up over this.

I give a small lop-sided grin to Simon and collapse onto his shoulder as the transformation takes over (hopefully for a final time).

SIMON

And so we’re here again. Bat-Baz nestled in my curls (I think he’s having a nap, the transformations take a lot of energy out of him), Penny making tasteless bat-related jokes and puns, and me trying to keep my head on straight. It’s becoming more and more difficult to do so.

Baz hasn’t wanted to change back into a human and has been feeling extra mopey. I’ve cut up some more fruit for him, but he hasn’t been in the mood to eat anything. I’ve tried petting his head, his wings, his tiny back… no response from him.

I now reach up to my head and hope that Bat-Baz decides to climb onto my hand. I sprinkled some sugared water on my hand as a way to coax him (with that sweet-tooth he’s got). A smile spreads across my lips as I feel his tiny body clamber into my palm. I bring him down to eye-level and he begins to excitedly lick the sugar off of my hand. I start laughing and give him a kiss on one of his wings. Bat-Baz stops licking and a small blush creeps over his cheeks.

“Glad you’re feeling a little better. Can you eat something for me?” I offer him a small piece of strawberry. Bat-Baz thankfully accepts it. As he’s eating his strawberry, Penny enters the kitchen. She’s holding a notepad and a triumphant smile on her face.

“What is it, Penny?”

“I think I’ve got the spell to change Baz back.”

“Okay. What is it?”

Penny shows me the notepad. Bat-Baz looks down at it and starts to angrily chirp at Penny. I read the spell, but I’m not familiar with the quote written down.

“Where is this from, Penny? And why if Baz obviously objecting to it?” Penny’s lips curl into a sneaky smile. Whatever it is, it’s making her far too excited.

“Twilight.”

I shake my head violently and walk away from her. Absolutely not! Baz hates that entire series. He claims they are terrible books, and the very notion of dazzling in the sunlight is offensive to him as a vampire.

“You’ve got to be joking Penny! Of all books to choose, you chose Twilight? Baz will never forgive you.” I look down to see Bat-Baz giving Penny the most judgmental look I have ever seen (well for a bat, that is).

“The quote is technically from the movie, but it should still work! The entire franchise is wildly popular! I still see Normals walking around with Team Edward shirts!”

Bat-Baz covers his head in his wings. It’s going to take some convincing for him to be on board with this, but so far, it’s the best shot we’ve got (even though it’s a rather piss-poor shot).

“Alright. Let’s try it.” I sigh and follow Penny into the living room.

Penny smiles and holds out her hand. I place Bat-Baz in one of my hands and cradle him carefully. He grips onto my thumb and curls into a small ball (I think he’s begun to lose hope at this point… also, bloody Twilight? As if he wasn’t mortified enough). I give Penny my other hand. She lifts the notepad to my eye level and I read off the first line of quote.

“I know what you are” I say to my tiny bat-boyfriend. Penny places her hand gently over Bat-Baz’s head, making sure the ring finger touches him directly. She squeezes my hand tightly and looks into my eyes.

“Say it. Out loud… SIMON SNOW say it!” She yells. I can feel her magic in the air, stong, comforting, with the distinct smell of sage in the air. I feel it wash over me and vibrate over Bat-Baz’s tiny body. He beginning to chirp wildly and I begin to worry that we’re hurting him. I want to get this spell done with. I speak in a loud clear voice:

“Baz Pitch… Vampire-Mage”

A bright, white light explodes from Penny’s ring and causes us to fall backwards. In the commotion that occurs, I let go of Bat-Baz and he slips from my grasp. The white light envelopes him completely and I need to shield my eyes. A strong force pushes Penny and me back a little more. I try to look for where Baz landed, but all I can see if the piercing white light. I have to hope that he’s somewhere in there, turning back into himself. Eventually, the white light starts to dim and the pulsing magical force starts to die down.

Merlin please let this be it. Please let Baz be himself again. I don’t think he can handle another series of intense changes.

I hear Penny screaming before my eyes get the chance to adjust to the scene in front of me. But, there he is, on the ground and fully human again. And… naked. And unconscious! Fuck!

I yell at Penny to get me some water for him. I grab a nearby blanket and scramble to him. I drape the blanket over his body and gently lift his head from the floor.

My anxious mind winds down as I hear his slow steady breaths. He’s alive, but probably completely drained. I lift him a little more and position my legs beneath him, so that I can better support him. Penny comes back with a glass of water and a small wet towel. She bends down and places her hand on his arm.

“Is he alright?” She asks, concern washing over her brown eyes.

I nod at her. Penny sighs with relief and places the glass on the floor, beside me. I ask her to go find some clothes for him, for when he wakes up. I grab the towel from her and start to dab his brow and his face. As I work, I hear a soft groan coming from his lips. His eyelids start squinting and he stirs a little. I give him a small delicate shake.

“Baz? It’s okay. I’m here. You’re okay.”

He starts to mumble something, but it’s hard for me to understand him. I lean in closer to him. “What was that?”

“That was wholly unpleasant.” He opens his eyes and smiles at me. “Hello, Snow.” he drawls.

“Hi.” I laugh at him. I help him sit up and offer the glass of water to him. He smiles as he takes a sip.

Baz’s little smile quickly turns into a slight frown. He looks down at the blanket covering him and his eyes bulge.

“Snow… am I, naked?”

“Um… y-yes?”

“Crowleyyyyy! Just set me on fire now!” Baz smacks his hand over his eyes in complete humiliation. I wrap one of my arms over his shoulders and gently hold him close. Baz buries his face into my shoulder and wraps one of his arms around my neck. I kiss the side of his head and rub small circles on his back. Penny creeps back into the room and quietly places some clothes beside me. I turn to her and mouth a “thank you”. Penny smiles and squeezes my wing. She heads to her room and closes the door, allowing us some much-needed privacy.

I give Baz a small shake and he lifts his head from my shoulder. I grab the clothes and hand them to him. He accepts them and starts putting them on. I get up from the floor and give him a few moments to collect himself and regain his dignity.

I’m putting some water to boil for tea when I feel a set of strong cool arms wrapping around me. Baz leans his head on my shoulder and gives me a small kiss on my cheek.

“Thank you. For everything today.” He whispers to me.

I smile in return. He doesn’t need to thank me. For him, I’d do it all.

“D’you think it worked this time?”

Baz sighs, “There’s only one way to find out.”

I turn to face him and study his deep-grey eyes. They’re tired, mostly. He draws a shaky breath, worried that the spell didn’t work.

“It had to have worked. I know it did.” I whisper to him. Baz closes his eyes and lowers his head.

I comb his hair back with my fingers and trail my hand down his face. We both take a deep breath and lean into a tiny, almost-chaste kiss. I see Baz squeezing his eyes shut, anticipating the transformation to begin.

But… nothing happens.

I shake Baz happily. “Baz! It worked! You’re you again!”

Baz begins to laugh and touches his forehead to mine. He grips my face in his hands and pulls me into a deep kiss. I lean into him and respond with a small happy sigh.

Baz pulls away and cocks an eyebrow at me. “I think I’m going to take a break from visiting my parents. I’ve had enough excitement to last me quite a while.”

I roll my eyes and him and flick his chin. “Baz… I don’t want to hear about your family right after you’ve snogged me.”

Baz laughs and pulls away again. He grabs my hand and leads me slowly into the bedroom. Once we’re inside, and with a coy smile, he grabs his wand from the nightstand and closes the door.

#The Return of Bat-Baz #Bat-Baz #simon snow #baz pitch #tyrannus basilton pitch #tyrannus basilton grimm pitch #basilton pitch #snowbaz #carry on #wayward son #crack #Yes hello I am a trash #trash #I am also a shit #comforting boyfriend #Simon Snow is a good boyfriend #my writing #fanfic

102 notes · View notes

speckofglitter · 6 years ago

Text

get it together - kny

→ word count ; 1.3k

→ genre ; fluff | angst if you squint ??

→ pairings ; artistl!yoshinori x artistl!y/n

everything is an art form. yet you always seemed to have the wrong paintbrushes or a shaky hand.

yoshinori is lying on his bed, watching you paint. he's admiring you, eyebrows furrowed and tongue poking out as you try to mix the right shades together. you've been working on this painting for the past 3 hours and it still doesn't look quite right. you step away from your canvas, observing it at a different angle before giving up.

you sigh, settling down onto the bed next to yoshinori as he gives you an encouraging smile.

'i'm tired.' you sigh out.

'then let's sleep.'

'yoshi?' you mutter.

'hmm?' he responds.

'can you give me a goodnight kiss?' you plead. he widens his eyes in disbelief, making you laugh out loud.

'fine.' he moves closer, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before licking your cheek and running away.

'argh yoshi that's disgusting!' you yell out, running after him.

yoshinori is your best friend and lifeline. he's the only one keeping you sane. you rant to him about your struggles as an art student, the exorbitant prices of art supplies and about how much your art teacher absolutely hates your guts. you sleep over at his apartment anytime you have a big assignment due. he keeps you calm. you still remember the day you met him. you were in the campus art studio, having a panic attack. you looked like a shell of a human being, shoulders hunched over as you cried over your sketchbook. yoshinori had walked in, choosing to sit beside you, softly stroking your hair as you cried and explained your frustrations. if he hadn't been there you probably would have ended up breaking your expensive crayons and brushes in half. he was so approachable and warm. you supposed there were no strangers in yoshinori's world, only new friends. you two quickly became inseparable after that day.

you wake up to an amazing smell. yoshinori's side of the bed is empty so you look around, trying to find him. he always makes your favorite nutella pancakes when you sleep over. it's become a tradition.

'come in.' he says, turning around to find you peeking from behind the kitchen door.

'good morning, thanks for the breakfast.' you smile, giving him a quick hug as he flips another pancake. his hair is still slightly damp from his shower, the smell of his cotton candy shampoo engulfing you.

you settle down onto the table, scrolling through your instagram feed as yoshinori finishes making the pancakes.

'yoshi, do you think i can make it as an artist?' you ask in between bites.

yoshinori looks at you, stunned by your sudden question. you take a huge bite of pancake, nervously waiting for his answer.

'i know you will.' he answers after a moment.

'you do know mr. clent hates me right? i haven't gotten a single grade above a B this whole semester...' you whisper.

'it's not always about the grades, especially in a creative field. when i see your art, i feel like it's going to jump off the canvas and come alive. your art tells stories that no one else can tell. that's your weapon.' he explains.

he smiles at you and it's that smile. the smile that makes you feel like all of your dreams can come true and everything will be okay. you stuff another bite of pancake in your mouth, desperately trying to ignore the way your heart is pounding inside your chest.

'you're a really good talker mr. kanemoto' you shake your head, trying to hide your smile.

after a quick shower, you're back to painting. a weak stream of light peers through the small window in yoshinori's room, making you look angelic.

you hear beeping and turn around to see yoshinori on his phone texting. sometimes, you wished yoshinori wasn't so popular. he wasn't only liked by students, he was also mr. clent's favorite student. the promising art prodigy. whenever there was an art exhibition, girls would flock to his side. they would ask irrelevant questions about his artworks, mostly interested in the way he would sip white wine and arch his perfect eyebrows as he talked about technique and color theory. surprisingly, he never worked on his drawings in front of you. he probably didn't want you to have a mental breakdown over how talented he was compared to you. you turn back around, painting more aggressively this time.

is it normal to feel slightly envious?

'wanna get some coffee?' he asks.

'yes please, i feel like i'm going to go insane if i see one more speck of gold' you laugh, grabbing your cardigan from his chair.

you walk towards the campus café, noticing the cold breeze as you wonder how yoshinori can wear ripped jeans in this weather.

yoshinori rests his hand on his chin, staring at you with an endearing look. you're ranting about yet another annoying professor as he swirls his straw around, taking frequent sips of his matcha latte. you talk with your hands, bright eyes twinkling as you get to the key point in your story.

yoshinori thinks about how fitting your drink choice is, a caramel macchiato. you pretend to be a bitter artist yet deep down you're the sweetest person he has ever met. you're always frustrated because you run on hope. hope that the world would be a little better, a little kinder. he memorizes the way your lips purse as you take a sip, planning to make you his next project. for him, it came easily. the lines and the shapes came together in his head as soon as he saw you.

summer is settling in and you no longer have to worry about strict professors and artist statements. it's 9pm when you burst into yoshinori's apartment, a tiny bottle of red wine in your front jean pocket. yoshinori doesn't bother asking questions as he lets you in.

'you know that guy i went on a date with last week? i can't believe that jerk ghosted me.. you know what? fuck him he looked like a noodle anyways.' you yell out, walking past yoshinori to sprawl yourself onto his couch. yoshinori chuckles to himself, watching you drink straight out of the tiny red wine bottle. even during rough times you absolutely refused to drink hard liquor.

you notice that yoshinori is drying his hair with a fluffy looking pink towel as he sits next to you. you try not to stare but he looks really, really good.

'not to put you down when you're having a rough time but could you take some of your skincare products home? your 13 bottles of rosewater and clay masks are taking up all the counter space in my bathroom.' he says, running a hand through his damp hair.

'fine. guess i'll just be bae-less and ugly.' you scoff, placing your legs over his.

'you're neither of those,' he whispers.

'what did you just say?' you raise an eyebrow.

he freezes, pink towel in hand as he realizes his mistake.

'i said... you're neither of those. you're beautiful y/n, i've told you that countless time.' voice not coming out nearly as steady as he would have hoped.

'yeah but i'm still bae-less' you whine.

'i could be your bae...' he mutters.

you picked a horrible time to take a swig of wine because the moment yoshinori says that you spit a mouthful of red wine right into his face.

'oh my god i'm so so sorry' you say as you grab the pink towel in his hands, dabbing onto his skin. you didn't realize you were so close until yoshinori places his hand above yours, taking the towel before kissing you softly. he hooks his hands around the back of your thighs as you wrap your legs tightly around his torso. your palms splay across his chest, pressing into him. you taste a little bitter and a little sour from the wine but yoshinori doesn't mind. you let out a small whine of protest as your lips separate.

'i can't do this anymore. i can't pretend not to be into you anymore.'

'i like you too yoshi.... we could be together but you know... i should really to get my shit together before i try to be in a relationship...' you mumble.

'i don't need you to get your shit together y/n. but if you need help, i'll always be here for you. as your friend or as your bae. you call the shots.' he winked.

you thought it over for a few days, isolating yourself in your room as you survived on cubes of cheese. yoshinori was beginning to think he had made a huge mistake by confessing to you. maybe you just weren't ready.

yoshinori had always been there for you, a little too generous if you were honest. you weren't scared of him breaking your heart. you were scared that one day he would wake up and realize he could do better. knowing him, he would probably break it to you in the kindest way possible. your mind wandered back to the first day you met him. if he wasn't ready to be in your life, he wouldn't have sat and comforted you for hours. he wouldn't put so much time and effort into making you pancakes every time you were at his apartment. he wouldn't have been the one and only person who motivated you as an artist.

you suddenly get up, putting on your sneakers as you rush to your kitchen cabinet, grabbing a bottle of vodka. you had never run so fast in your entire life. by the time yoshinori opens the door, you're out of breath and glowing with sweat.

'what are you doing here?' he questions.

'you said i could call the shots so i'm here.' you say, walking past him and into his kitchen as you look for shot glasses.

'let's cheers to us, being baes or whatever the kids say these days' you laugh, pouring him a shot.

as yoshinori watches you down your shot, he silently thanks whatever or whoever guided him to the art room on that day.

masterlist - requests are open !! - ya girl tiyi ❤️

#ygtb #treasure #magnum #treasure 13 #treasure 13 scenarios #magnum scenarios #yg entertainment #yg artist scenarios #kanemoto yoshinori #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop scenarios #yg treasure box scenarios

53 notes · View notes

merigreenleaf · 6 years ago

Photo

Unexpected Inspiration - Piquant, Imp & Muse of Culinary Arts

In the last moodboard post I began introducing Concordia's mythological figures with Mortise, the first and oldest of the Muses. Piquant is the youngest and, if prejudice had had it's way, he never would have become one. This is all because Piquant is an imp, which meant he had to fight preconception and hatred to prove his innocence.

This is ironic because imps are the epitome of innocence. They're small humanoids who are incapable of deception or betrayal. They simply don't have the thought capacity to understand anything but truth and this is largely because their tiny heads are filled with thoughts of food. While imps have no magic of their own, they survive by feeding from magic. Magic is not always easy to come by, however. Most don't reach adulthood. If the inability to locate food doesn't kill them, the beings who possess magic do. Not outright, as the people who have magic on the imps' home world are pacifists, but being denied food is just as much a death sentence. To help obtain the glowing arcane energy imps consider food, they evolved a camouflage. This gave their bodies the appearance of whatever plant life houses their nests; some look like blueberry bushes, some have skin mimicking bark of an oak tree. Their natural camouflage keeps them from being discovered while still immature implings who don't yet have the strength to fly far from their nests. It also once allowed them to approach their food without notice. When the people of their world began building elaborate homes in large cities away from the forests and woods, it grew even more difficult to reach their food without getting caught. This was bad enough. Then all the people vanished, taking with them their personal magical glows and the glows in the arcane objects they created. Gradually the imp population began to diminish as some flew away to find food. These never returned to their nests. The ones who stayed started to die off as they reached adulthood and were unable to feed. The imps were panicked, afraid, not understanding where the people and their filling food-light had gone.

Then a new person, a kind they'd never seen before, came to each nest to make an offer. If the imps helped him, they would have food, all the food they could want. Most of the remaining imps followed, including almost all from a nest within a mushroom colony.

One imp ignored the newcomer and remained behind.

(More about Piquant under the read more! This turned into sort of a short story.)

That imp wasn't drawn by the promise of food because he had already discovered a source of it that no other imp had found. Deep in one of the overgrown stone nests where the non-imp people had lived before they disappeared, this imp had found glows! This food wasn't as filling as the pulsating, living glow surrounding each of the non-imp people, but he had it all to himself with no other imp around to force him to share it. He lived off this supply for several seasons (imps having no concept of time longer than a day or shorter than a season) until a sudden voice rang out. He bolted out of the room with the voice echoing through the empty halls. Strangely, it never grew any closer and no person grabbed him. Curiosity winning over self-preservation, he crept back to find it coming from a strange box. Somehow one of the people had put his voice into it and whenever the imp touched the box, it would speak. It was always the same people-words repeated, words he didn't really understand, but as the days went by it became a comfort and a companion. The imp had never experienced loneliness because always there had been more imps-- too many imps even without much food-- and now it was too quiet. Only this voice, and the words he began speaking back to it, filled the empty stone nest.

Until one day there was a second voice. This one felt like the brightest, most blinding glow, the closest the imp had to a comparison of beauty, and it captivated him. He expected another box and instead was led to the doorway through which all of his siblings had crossed seasons before. Without a glance back, the imp followed the new voice. He fell as he crossed the threshold when his wings vanished, but his physical changes were unimportant. All that mattered was the voice. As he sought this out, he discovered that he was in a place with glowing people again. Not all of the people had this light, and the ones who had didn't look the same as the glowing people from his home. Still, he didn't want to risk being discovered in case they were the ones who had caught his kind before, so he fed from more objects like he'd eaten in the nests of stone.

As he began to adjust to this place, he realized that even though he was eating, everyone else around him was hungry. He tried to help by handing them the glowing objects, but always they chased him away. If he couldn't give them food, they would starve, and then they would not be around to make more of the glowing objects. With the doorway he'd entered now closed, he couldn't return to his old food. He would starve, too. If only he could get them to understand that he wanted to help!

It was while he was investigating what non-imp people ate that he stumbled on the voice. It belonged to one of the glowing people. He waited until the other glowing people left, then stepped forward. To his surprise, the owner of the voice began speaking to him as though he wasn't an imp. All the new glowing-people knew him for what he was, even with the different, larger body he'd gained when crossing through the doorway, and treated him the same way the old glowing people had in his home. To be talked to as though he was another person and not an imp left him bewildered. Bewildered yet also thoughtful. The time spent alone had given the imp more patience than his kind normally possessed, and a steady, reliable source of food had granted him the opportunity for deeper thought. He could observe and he could think, and what he realized was that this person couldn't see well. For the first time an imp told a lie by not telling the truth; he didn't reveal that he was an imp. The person called himself Daegal and when he explained what this meant, the imp had no name to give in response. Imps didn't have names because there was no guarantee one would live long enough to be worth remembering. It was Daegal who decided to call Piquant that name and it was Daegal who Piquant told of his wish to help.

Together they devised a plan, but it would need the help of a being in the grotto at the center of the city. Piquant was elated to discover that a grotto meant trees. He was less excited to learn that "city" meant "that huge stone nest over there filled with glowing people." Inside the city, Piquant was stopped what felt like every few steps. Always, however, Daegal's alluring voice convinced the people to let him through. When Piquant himself stopped, overwhelmed by the long-yearned for smell of earth and trees when they finally reached their destination, Daegal took his hand. After a moment of confusion-- he wasn't hungry and didn't feed from people anymore-- Piquant realized this was a gesture of reassurance. He squeezed back, then scampered up a tree. He'd missed the feeling of being off the ground and, feeling more like himself than he had in ages, he called out to the being Daegal promised was there.

The answer came along with a warning. The being would help channel Piquant's innate drive for food and his desire to share what he had into a way that would feed the people of this new place. It could make the peoples' food, plants similar to the ones that grew in Piquant's nest, grow faster and larger. It cautioned Piquant that the road to getting people to accept his help wouldn't be easy, especially because it wouldn't allow Daegal's influential magic to be used this time. That was okay. All that mattered to Piquant now was that Daegal and all the others would have enough food of their own.

It took time (enough that even Piquant's patience began to grow thin) and more hand squeezes from Daegal (who later told him that his claws were a dead giveaway of what he was-- and later still his teeth a definite giveaway), but Piquant was able to convince the people of his new home that he meant them no harm. No, he didn't feed from their personal glows. Yes, he was technically stealing from the things they made, but they supposed this was better than taking from them directly. No, the imps being sent against them-- so that was where his siblings went!-- didn't actually mean them harm, they just needed food, too. Yes, they'd probably abandon the one who had promised food if they were offered safer and more reliable food. No, he really didn't appreciate being called a pest, he had a name now. Helping the being from the grotto to channel his hunger into something productive was easy compared to this negotiation. After all, he had that wonderful voice cheering him on.

Eventually truth became history and history became myth. Instead of Piquant being remembered as the imp he was, legend portrays him as a mushroom-person who brought culinary magic to Concordia.

-------------------

“Someday They’ll See” - Short story about Piquant and Daegal

-------------------

And I’m back into doing moodboards on Mondays! :D This turned into a super long post, but it’s so cool because I didn’t know most of this before this weekend! And until I started typing this, I had no idea that Piquant had a Thing with one of the other Muses. You’ll learn more about Daegal soon when I get to his Muse moodboard. (Minor Spoiler: he’s Scriven.)

Please let me know if you want to be added or removed from my series tag list and please tag me in your story things even if you’re not on my tag list. I love seeing what writeblr is up to. <3 @homesteadhorner @ageekyreader @lynnafred @the-gay-hufflepuff @oceanwriter @desperatlytryingtowriteabook @muffindragon227 @theguildedtypewriter @toboldlywrite @wchwriter @ghostsmooches @lady-redshield-writes @bluemartlet @reeseweston @forlornraven @dreameronthewind @shadow-maker @pen-for-sword @loopyhoopydrabbles @emptymanuscript @madmoonink @megan-cutler @perringwrites @elliot-orion @thatwriternamedvolk @indecentpause @writer-on-time @ravenpuffwriter @siarven @worldbuildingwren @hiddswritingrefs @fannistwrites @cay--scribbles @focusdumbass @crartistic @paper-shield-and-wooden-sword @enasroterfaden @missrobinswritings @joshuaorrizonte @zofiehelen @kainablue

#writing #writeblr #moodboard #character moodboard #character aesthetics #aesthetic #unexpected inspiration series #unexpected inspiration aesthetic #UI POV: Other #I'm shipping Piquant and Daegal so much now #and a few hours ago I didn't even know they knew each other lol #I really want to write a story about them #I mean they'll be in the book about the muses that I'm starting to plan #but they're not main characters in that #UI POV: Muses #about my world

42 notes · View notes

networkingdefinition · 5 years ago

Text

Horse Quotes

Official Website: Horse Quotes

“…for there is no other feeling in the world to compare with it if one loves a great horse. It gives a thrill that nothing else ever can. It cannot be put into words, because words cannot express it.” – Samuel Riddle

“A canter is a cure for every evil.” – Benjamin Disraeli

“A dog looks up to a man. A cat looks own on a man. But a patient horse looks a man in the eye and sees him as an equal.” – Unknown

“A dog may be man’s best friend… but the horse wrote history.” – Unknown

“A fly may sting a stately horse and make him wince; but one is an insect, and the other a hose still.” —Samuel Johnson

“A good rider can hear his horse speak to him. A great rider can hear his horse whisper.” – Unknown

“A great horse will change your life. The truly special ones define it.” – Unknown

“A horse can lend its rider the speed and strength he or she lacks – but the rider who is wise remembers it is no more than a loan.” – Pam Brown

“A horse doesn’t care how much you know until he knows how much you care. Put your hand on your horse and your heart in your hand.” – Pat Parelli

“A horse gallops with his lungs, perseveres with his heart, and wins with his character.” – Tesio

“A horse in the wind – a perfect symphony.”

“A horse is a thing of beauty… none will tire of looking at him as long as he displays himself in his splendor.” – Xenophon

“A horse is dangerous at both ends and uncomfortable in the middle.” —Ian Flemming

“A horse is the projection of peoples’ dreams about themselves – strong, powerful, beautiful – and it has the capability of giving us escape from our mundane existence.” – Pam Brown

“A horse is wonderful by definition.” —Piers Anthony

“A horse is worth more than riches.” – Spanish proverb

“A horse loves freedom, and the weariest old workhorse will roll on the ground or break into a lumbering gallop when he is turned loose into the open.” —Gerald Rafferty

“A horse never runs so fast as when he has other horses to catch up and outpace.” – Ovid

“A horse, a horse! My kingdom for a horse!” – William Shakespeare

“A large and liquid eye… the swirl of dust around pounding hooves… these, then, are the images that move us.” – Unknown

“A man on a horse is spiritually as well as physically bigger than a man on foot.” – John Steinbeck

“A pony is a childhood dream; a horse is an adult treasure.” – Rebecca Carroll

“A stubborn horse walks behind you, an impatient horse walks in front of you, but a noble companion walks beside you.” – Unknown

“A stubborn horse walks behind you, an impatient horse walks in front of you,

“A true horseman does not look at the horse with his eyes, he looks at his horse with his heart.”

“All horses deserve, at least once in their lives, to be loved by a little girl.”

“All music is folk music. I ain’t never heard a horse sing a song.” Louis Armstrong

“And indeed, a horse who bears himself proudly is a thing of such beauty and astonishment that he attracts the eyes of all beholders. No one will tire of looking at him as long as he will display himself in his splendor.” – Xenophon

“Ask me to show you poetry in motion and I will show you a horse.”~ Author Unknown

“At its finest, rider and horse are joined not by tack, but by trust. Each is totally reliant upon the other. Each is the selfless guardian of the other’s very well-being.” – Unknown

“Before I loved horses, I had nothing to live for. Now I love horses and can’t stop seeing things to live for.” – Unknown

“Being on a horse is one of my most natural places to be.” – Sinbad

“Bread may feed my body, but my horse feeds my soul.” – Unknown

“Courage is being scared to death but saddling up anyway.” – John Wayne

“Did you ever see an unhappy horse? Did you ever see a bird that had the blues? One reason why birds and horses are not unhappy is because they are not trying to impress other birds and horses.” —Dale Taylor

“God forbid that I should go to any heaven in which there are no horses.” —R.B. Cunningham-Graham

“Half the failures in life result from pulling in one’s horse when it is leaping.”~ Author Unknown

“He doth nothing but talk of his horse.” —William Shakespeare

“He knows when you’re happy. He knows when you’re comfortable. He knows when you’re confident. And he always knows when you have carrots.” – Unknown

“His hooves pound the beat, your heart sings the song.”~ Jerry Shulman

“His neigh is like the bidding of a monarch, and his countenance enforces homage. He is indeed, a horse.”

“Horse sense is the thing a horse has which keeps it from betting on people.” – W.C. Fields

“Horse thou art truly a creature, for thou fliest without wings and conquorest without a sword.” – Unknown

“Horses are like shoes – you need one in every color.” – Unknown

“Horses change lives. They give our young people confidence and self-esteem. They provide peace and tranquility to troubled souls. They give us hope!” – Toni Robinson

“Horses lend us the wings we lack.” – Unknown

“I am still under the impression that there is nothing alive quite so beautiful as a horse.” – John Galsworthy

“I call horses ‘divine mirrors’ – they reflect back the emotions you put in. If you put in love and respect and kindness and curiosity, the horse will return that.” – Allan Hamilton

“I can make a General in five minutes, but a good horse is hard to replace.” – Abraham Lincoln

“I frequently dream of being on these horses’ backs and running across a field. And the horse and I are one.” – William Shatner

“I have seen things so beautiful they have brought tears to my eyes. Yet none of them can match the gracefulness and beauty of a horse running free.”

“I heard a neigh. Oh, such a brisk and melodious neigh it was. My very heart leapt with the sound.” – Nathaniel Hawthorne

“I love the horse from hoof to head, From head to hoof and tail to mane. I love the horse as I have said, From head to hoof and back again.” —James Whitcomb Riley

“If a horse has four legs, and I’m riding it, I think I can win.” – Charles Caleb Colton

“If you are fearful, a horse will back off. IF you are calm and confident, it will come forward. For those who are often flattered or feared, the horse can be a welcome mirror of the best in human nature.” – Claire Balding

“If you have seen nothing but the beauty of their markings and limbs,their true beauty is hidden from you.”

“If you want a stable friendship, get a horse.” – Unknown

“If your horse says “no”, you either asked the wrong question, or asked the question wrong.” – Pat Parelli

“In riding a horse, we borrow freedom.” – Helen Thomson

“In the end, we don’t know what horses can do. We only know that when, over the past thousands of years, we have asked something more of them, at least some of them have readily supplied it.” – Jane Smiley

“In the steady gaze of the horse shines a silent eloquence that speaks of love and loyalty, strength and courage. It is the window that reveals to us how willing is his spirit, how generous his heart.” – Unknown

“In their eyes shine stars of wisdom and courage to guide men to the heavens.”~ Jodie Mitchell

“It is best not to swap horses while crossing the river.” —Abraham Lincoln

“It is the horse’s gift to connect us with Heaven and our own footsteps.” – Ronni Sweet

“It’s hard to lead a cavalry charge if you think you look funny on a horse.” – Adlai Stevenson I

“I’ve spent most of my life riding horses. The rest I’ve just wasted.”

“Let a horse whisper in your eat and breathe on your heart. You will never regret it.” – Unknown

“Life is like a dressage test. If you’re too busy thinking about your last move, the next one won’t be any good either.” – Unknown

“Looking for love is tricky business, like whipping a carousel horse.” – George Cukor

“Many people have sighed for the ‘good old days’ and regretted the ‘passing of the horse’. But today, when only those who like horses own them, it is a far better time for horses.” – C.W. Anderson

“My horses are my friends, not my slaves.” – Reiner Klimke

“No Heaven can Heaven be, if my horse isn’t there to welcome me.” – Unknown

“No hour of life is wasted that is spent in the saddle.” – Winston Churchill

“No matter how big or small you are, your horse is always there for you when you need your spirit lifted.” – Unknown

“No philosophers so thoroughly comprehend us as dogs and horses.” – Herman Melville

“Of all animals kept for the recreation of mankind, the horse is alone capable of exciting a passion that shall be absolutely hopeless.” —Bret Harte

“On the back of a horse you will find Paradise.”

“One can get in a car and see what man has made. One must get on a horse to see what God has made.” – Unknown

“One must think when looking at a horse in motion, that he hears music inside his head.” – Unknown

“One of the best pieces of advice I ever got was from a horse master. He told me to go slow to go fast. I think that applies to everything in life. We live as though there aren’t enough hours in the day but if we do each thing calcly and carefully we will get it done quicker and with much less stress.” – Viggo Mortensen

“One who believes that he has mastered the art of horsemanship has not yet begun to understand the horse.” – Unknown

“Our hoofbeats were many, but our hearts beat as one.”

“People ought to quit worrying so much about whispering to their horses and just start listening to them.” —Greg Darnall

“Riding a horse is not a gentle hobby, to be picked up and laid down like a game of solitaire. It is a grand passion.” —Ralph Waldo Emerson

“Slippery-smooth rhythmic motion, absolute single-minded purpose, motion for the pleasure of motion itself. It was terrible it its beauty, the flight of the horse.”~ Larry Niven, Rainbow Mars

“Somewhere…somewhere in time’s own space, There must be some sweet pastured place Where creeks sing on and tall trees grow, Some Paradise where horses go.

“Stay away from a horse long enough and you’ll start tapping your fingers to the beat of a trot.”~ Author Unknown

“Stay away from a horse long enough and you’ll start tapping your fingers to the beat of a trot.” – Unknown

“Success is like a wild horse. If you do not know how to handle it, it will throw you off and look for another rider who can handle it well.” – Ajith Kumar

“The air of heaven is that which blows between a horse’s ears.”

“The earth would be nothing without the people, but the man would be nothing without the horse.” ~ Author Unknown

“The essential joy of being with horses is that it brings us in contact with the rare elemtns of grace, beauty, spirit, and freedom.” – Sharon Ralls Lemon

“The hardest thing about riding… is the ground.” – Unknown

“The history of mankind is carried on the back of a horse.” – Unknown

“The horse is an archetypal symbol which will always find ways to stir up deep and moving ancestral memories in every human being.” —Paul Mellon

“The horse moved like a dancer, which is not surprising. A horse is a beautiful animal, but it is perhaps most remarkable because it moves as if it always hears music.” —Mark Helprin

“The horse you get off is not the same as the horse you got on. It is your job as a rider to ensure that as often as possible, the change is for the better.” – Unknown

“The horse, with beauty unsurpassed, strength immeasurable and grace unlike any other, still remains humble enough to carry a man upon his back.” – Amber Senti

“The horse. Here is nobility without conceit, friendship without envy, beauty without vanity. A willing servant, yet never a slave.” —Ronald Duncan

“The love for a horse is just as complicated as the love for another human being… if you never love a horse, you will never understand.” – Unknown

“The only sport I’m not interested in is horse racing. That’s because I don’t know the horses personally.” – Nat King Cole

“The sunshine’s golden gleam is thrown, on sorrel, chestnut, bay and roan.” —Oliver Wendell Holmes

“The wagon rests in winter, the sleigh in summer, the horse never.” – Yiddish proverb

“The way to heaven is on horseback.”

“The world is best viewed through the ears of a horse.” – Unknown

“Then they worry, because no matter how brilliantly they perform their jobs, success comes down to the horses, and Thoroughbreds are anarchists at heart.” – Nan Mooney

“There are many wonderful places in the world, but one of my favorite places is on the back of my horse.” – Rolf Kopfle

“There are some things better left unsaid… but you can bet a cowgirl will say them anyway!” – Unknown

“There is no secret so close as that between a rider and his horse.” – R.S. Surtees

“There is something about riding down the street on a prancing horse that makes you feel like something, even when you ain’t a thing.”~ Will Rogers

“There is something about the outside of a horse that is good for the inside of a man.” – Sir Winston Churchill

“Through his mane and tail the high wind sings, fanning the hairs who wave like feather’d wings.” —William Shakespeare

“Through the days of love and celebration and joy, and through the dark days of mourning – the faithful horse has been with us always.” – Elizabeth Cotton

“Through the days of love and celebration and joy, and through the dark days of mourning – the faithful horse has been with us always.”~ Elizabeth Cotton

“To many, the words love, hope and dreams are synonymous with horses.” – Unknown

“To many, the words love, hope and dreams are synonymous with horses.”

“To ride on a horse is to fly without wings”.~ Author Unknown

“To see a horse is to see an angel on earth.”~ Author Unknown

“To see the wind’s power, the rain’s cleansing and the sun’s radiant life,

“To understand the soul of a horse is the closest human beings can come to knowing perfection.” – Unknown

“Virtue shall be bound into the hair of thy forelock. I have given thee the power of flight without wings.”

“We have all forgotten how strange a thing it is that so huge and powerful and intelligent an animal as a horse should allow another, and far more feeble animal, to ride upon its back.” —Peter Gray

“We have almost forgotten how strange a thing it is that so huge and powerful and intelligent an animal as a horse should allow another, and far more feeble animal, to ride upon his back.”~ Peter Gray

“We have almost forgotten how strnage a thing it is that so huge and powerful and intelligent an animal as a horse should allow another, and far more feeble animal, to ride upon its back.” – Peter Gray

“We kept him until he died… and sat with him during the long last minutes when a horse comes closest to seeming human.” – C.J. Mullen

“We who choose to surround ourselves with lives more temporary than our own live within a fragile circle, easily and often breached. Unable to accept its awful aps, we still would live no other way. We cherich memory as the only certain immoirtality, never fully understanding the necessary plan. The life of a horse, often half our own, eems endless until one day. That day has come and gone for me, and I am once again within a somewhat smaller circle.” – Irving Townsend

“We will never have to tell our horse that we are sad, happy, confident, angry, or relaxed. He already knows – long before we do.” – Marjike de Jong

“What does riding horses give us? An escape from the world. Exercise in fresh air. Adrenaline rushes. Healing through the bond.” – Unknown

“When a horse greets you with a nicker and regards you with a large and liquid eye,

“When a horse offers their face to you, they’re interested in what you are, what you’re doing. They’re paying attention.” – Brady Jandreau

“When I bestride him, I soar, I am a hawk: he trots the air; the earth sings when he touches it; the basest horn of his hoof is more muscal than the pipe of Hermes.” – William Shakespeare

“When I hear somebody talk about a horse or cow being stupid, I figure it’s a sure sign that the animal has outfoxed them.” —Tom Dorrance

“When the Almighty put hoofs on the wind and a bridle on the lightning, He called it a horse.” – Unknown

“When you are on a great horse, you have the best seat you will ever have.” – Sir Winston Churchill

“When your horse follows you without being asked, when he rubs his head on yours,

“When you’re young and you fall off a horse, you may break something. When you’re my age and you fall off, you splatter.”~ Roy Rogers

“Whena horse greets you with a nicker and regards you with a large and liquid eye, the question of where you want to be has been answered.” – Unknown

“Whenever you observe a horse closely, you feel as if a hum being sitting inside were making fun of you.” —Elias Canetti

“Where in this wide world can man find nobility without pride, friendship without envy, or beauty without vanity? Here where grace is laced with muscle and strength by gentleness confined.” – Ronald Duncan

“Wherever man has left his footprints in the long ascent from barbarism to civilization, we find the hoofprints of a horse beside it.” – John Trotwood Moore

“Whoever said a horse was dumb, was dumb.” – Will Rogers

“Will is to grace as the horse is to the rider.” – Saint Augustine

“You and your horse. His strenght nad beauty. Your knowledge and patience and determination and understanding and love. That’s what fuses the two of you onto this marvelous partnership that makes you wonder… ‘ What can heaven offer any better than what I have here on earth?’.” – Monica Dickens

“You can see what man made from the seat of an automobile, but the best way to see what God made is from the back of a horse.”

“You took care of your horse, and your horse took care of you.” – Elton Gallegly

“You took me to adventure and to love. We two have shared great joy and great sorrow. And now I stand at the gate of the paddock watching you run in an ecstacy of freedom, knowing you will return to stand quietly, loyally, beside me.” – Pam Brown

“You try to do the best with what you’ve got and ignore everything else. That’s why horses get blinders in hose racing: You look at the horse next to you, and you lose a step.” – Jimmy Lovine

“Your horse’s behavior always seems to depend on the number of people watching you.” – Unknown

jQuery(document).ready(function($) var data = action: 'polyxgo_products_search', type: 'Producct', keywords: 'Horse', orderby: 'rand', order: 'DESC', template: '1', limit: '68', columns: '4', viewall:'Shop All', ; jQuery.post(spyr_params.ajaxurl,data, function(response) var obj = jQuery.parseJSON(response); jQuery('#thelovesof_horse').html(obj); jQuery('#thelovesof_horse img.swiper-lazy:not(.swiper-lazy-loaded)' ).each(function () var img = jQuery(this); img.attr("src",img.data('src')); img.addClass( 'swiper-lazy-loaded' ); img.removeAttr('data-src'); ); ); );

0 notes

equitiesstocks · 5 years ago