when you first begin to build your house,

jimmynovaks:

begin with the foundation, as all good builders do, and consider many kinds of stone. lay the edges first, the north at the green of your brother’s eyes, the south the bow-curve of his smile, the east side and the west side the twin bowers of his hands, his gentle calloused hands, their deftness with a needle, their kindness in the night. form it from his concrete and his asphalt and his gasoline, his smoke, his tongue forming the sound of your name. here is a platform on which you can sleep and a greatness from which to see the stars and hold his love against your chest. build your foundation first.

raise your walls high and yellow, the colour of the sunshine little sister red brings with her, the aura of her when she moves through the world. lift up her sheltering arms upon your brother’s sturdy flats until you are warm and kind inside her brightness, until you see the loveliness of her on every windowsill like a vase of flowers, her intellect making smooth your hearth, your heart, her magic joy plastered up to the endless sky in shades of gold and green. you are safe here.

shape the secret corners in your echoing rooms in easy darkness, the angles of the prophet who lives beneath your wing. fill them with solitude and thoughtfulness and wrap his little shadows around your body like a blanket, the better to comfort you, the better to swathe you in the silence you like so much, the ticking of the library clock, the whir of shifting pages, the distant glimmer of his laughter when rare happiness breaks through the cracks in his skin. he would call you his brother if you weren’t both orphans. make him the place you fit your shoulders into, the sturdy thing at your back. he will bear you up if you choose to fall though his hands are small and his spine is weak. it pleases him to be leaned upon.

build your roof from angel-bones, his ribcage your rafters, the broken feathers of his wings your shingles, the crescent of his toothy grin your skylight. fix his hands and feet to close up the spaces, to cover you, to bear away the sting of rain and hail and snow, his attic an empty place for you to wander and be still, to fill with all your hopes and needs, a gentle ear to listen to your heart beat. under him your house will smell of cedar wood and storm clouds and he will bend and sway with the hurricane but never leave you vulnerable, never once abandon you to the moon crashing in. here are eaves to watch over your rest. and until you can make your house of cinderblock and stone, of plaster and wood, of sod and brick, keep your house of flesh and bone, and find your comfort in it.

when you first begin to build your house you will not see it forming. you will only dream that it soars above your head.

when you wake its arms will come around you and call you dear and though you will not see the nails that hold it up in place, you will know that you are home.

lyrangalia:

astrakiseki:

a-singer-of-songs:

WTNV headcanon:  Carlos curses in SCIENCE.  He doesn’t use ordinary curses.  No.  His are more creative.  

“Murphy’s friggin’ LAW!”

“SON OF A CLONAL REPTILE!”

“Where are my ASEXUALLY REPRODUCING test tubes?!”

“That piece of a small sample size!”

“Am I going to have to introduce you to some of my mammalian physiology?”

“What a load of dimethyl sulfide.  :|”

“YOU STATISTICAL OUTLIER.”

modern day icarus with burns on his back and full of bitterness and throws out cynicism but sometimes he just looks at the sun like it’s the best thing in the world  (◡‿◡✿)

Sex in the Newmann Household.

Newton: “See, now if I thrust right there it feels bett-”
Hermann: “Actually, I prefer if we did it at this angle instead of there.” -tries to move about- “I certainly wonder if you know what you’re doing some times.”
Newton: -silence-
Hermann: -silence-
Newton: “I know what I’m doing!!!” -new angle-
Hermann: -lost in sexual bliss-

becketpilots:

So y’know how when two people have drifted together they don’t really feel like there’s much to say to each other since they’ve been in each other’s head?

I feel like Newt and Hermann still argue with each other all the time not because they really feel like there’s a point to it anymore, but because it’s a familiarity and it’s something that has defined their relationship. The only difference being that now when they bicker it’s with a constant smirk on both their faces.

kaijuscience:

i just want newt to find a way to genetically creat kaiju the size of cats and insist on having a little otachi or yamarashi as a pet

byacolate:

Newt unconsciously pulling out a chair for Hermann in the mess hall while they bicker loudly about theoretical mathematics (◡‿◡✿)

Hermann taking the seat without a second thought and letting Newt push him in close to the table because Newt’s done this for years (◕‿◕✿)

Hermann reaching over in the middle of an insult to give Newt a bite of his dessert (｡≖‿≖｡✿)

Newt sucking the spoon into his mouth and maintaining eye contact while he licks it all over until Herman has to feign outrage and steal Newt’s spoon in return (｡≖△≖｡✿)

old married couples and their childish antics ｡：ﾟ(｡ﾉω＼｡)ﾟ･｡

lostwiginity:

My sales job brain sometimes mixes with my fandom brain and then I think about Hermann and Newt buying a bed together.

Newt would want them to have the softest, bounciest spring mattress which would make Hermann feel every single movement he makes and annoy him to no end. Like, the guy can’t even give him some peace and quiet when he’s asleep!

While Hermann would insist sleeping on the hardest latex brick he can find because he believes it supports his spine better and it stores body heat to keep him warm at night. With a viscoelastic polyurethane topper cos actually the mattress alone is too hard after all but he’s not gonna admit it.

In the end, they’d get separate mattresses, but in the same bed.