the-same-bloody

Shikarpur

#Shikarpur was trending on twitter and I didn’t know why until I dived into my newsfeed and did a double take. While I was writing posts titled “TGIF”, I had forgotten how even blessed Fridays are not spared for anyone here.

Quick summary:

i.

ii.

61 people are dead. The questions are the same. The answers are confusing, repetitive and devoid of promise. The chaos is the same. Bloody and fatal. Only new people this time that cease to exist from today onwards.

inside the while(1) loop

I was about to express my irritation about people not putting their long-ass fics under a cut, again, but can you even do that with the update? I mean, obviously you can, as I’m seeing people do it (continue reading means the same bloody thing, was it really necessary to change it?), but I’m not seeing it, or something. Like, how you do it. How do we do read more’s now? 

7

"I would…. I would like to fight… I’d like to fight everybody who wants to… make war on people."

6

"There’s something about Ben that is really indescribable. Beyond his intelligence as an actor and his really strong range of emotional understanding, there is a combination that is really difficult to judge, because there is something extremely attractive, I think, about him, and something extremely…unsettling. And that’s what I felt like we have to find with Grenouille, we have to have somebody who invites us strongly to go with him - though he is so..weird and so unusual and so awkward." - Tom Tykwer, The Story of Perfume

for everyone who enjoys baby Watson
  • Baby Watson:*folds arms* I don't like you.
  • Sherlock:*raises eyebrow* Why?
  • Baby Watson:*frowning* You're mean to Molly when she's so lovely to you.
  • Sherlock:...
  • Sherlock:*sighs* Why do you suppose that is?
  • Baby Watson:*shrugs* Because you don't like her.
  • Sherlock:*chuckles* Yes, that is how it appears, isn't it?
  • Baby Watson:...
  • Sherlock:*nonchalant* That, um...boy in your class...the one who's always pulling your hair or kicking you under the table-
  • Baby Watson:*scowls* Ricky. He's mean to me.
  • Sherlock:*nods* Why do you think that is?
  • Baby Watson:*saddens* Because he doesn't like me *pauses* But I gived him a flower at play time yesterday. What have I done?
  • Sherlock:Ah, now, that's easy. You've confused him *soft smile* It's probably the way you wrinkle your nose when you concentrate or hum along to some stupid tune playing in your head *affectionately* It could be the way you arrange your medical tools in order of size or how you always, without fail, greet me with a smile and prepare the body just the way I...
  • Baby Watson:*knowingly smiles*
  • Sherlock:...prefer *clears throat* Yes, well...it could very well be the, um, how you fold your napkin at lunch. Four times, always starting left. Don't even get me started on that hair *pauses; confused* What were we talking about?
  • Baby Watson:*giggles; hugs Sherlock* Oh, Uncle Sherlock...you're so in love.
  • Sherlock:...
  • Sherlock:*blushes* We were talking about you, weren't we?
  • Baby Watson:*excited* Are you going to ask Molly to dinner?
  • Sherlock:*stern* If you wait twenty or thirty years before you let Ricky ask you.
  • Baby Watson:Can he be my friend?
  • Sherlock:*long pause; nods*
  • Baby Watson:*grins* Deal.
Clyde with a Broken Wrist and a Buck Knife

I’d steal every star from Night herself,
if you wanted them.
In the rain, he sang
and skinned rabbits. He chewed on a bullet
and it broke his teeth raw. Imagine: a boy
exploding with gold, kissing my tongue shine.
We dipped all the birds in wine. Grubby fingers
played piano on tree bark. We rubbed out dirt
and silver glory in motel bathtubs. All our pocket
change strummed the same bloody song. You
could pick any bone in my body and I’d rip it out
for you. 
In the moonlight, above the haze of autumn,
we were almost one person.