it’s 2017 next year is 2018 and the year after that is 2019 and that’s the year where the fist exo members have to go to the army and we won’t be having complete exo until 2025 I’m having an internal crisis rn is life woth living after 2019 ?? Is 2019 the right year to die ?? ,, 2019 - 2025 are going to be fucking uglyass fucktards and I don’t know if I’m going to survive,,, what is life w/o exo ,, WHAt if they disband after 2025 ,, DOnt touch me im screaming ndnsadsDP s ASA hrelP
NOT EVEN A WEEK AGO I PUT OUT A THING SAYING HOW I 10 AWAY FROM 50 SUBS, NOW I’M ONLY 2 AWAY?! (it’s been 3 days)
You all are incredible! This makes me so happy, I can’t even begin to explain it. I don’t know what you guys are doing but I love it! I love you guys! Sereiously! i woke up feeling pretty shitty and this just turned my mood around! I screamed so loud I scared my cat. He is currently looking around the house for the reason I screamed. xD
i honestly spend a lot of time, probably what some would call “an excessive amount of time” thinking about leonard and lisa and how, when he made that sacrifice, so much of it was for his baby sister
like, we know from the show that the time lords continually pinpoint lisa as the source of leonard’s weakness- and wow, you know it’s almost like we had an entire episode on the flash dedicated to how their father has done that their entire lives
this whole thing, the whole reason he’s doing this is because he is no holds barred when it comes to his sister. he froze off his own hand to stop mick, he killed his fucking father, he blew up the occulus (which is what the pilgrim used to get access to lisa.) there’s no middle ground with him. because the second he was old enough to, the second he could kill his father, he did. do you really think he’d give the time masters any sort of edge?
the beginning of 1x15 is so interesting when you consider that as well- when you consider his first part of the plan when the team was gone was to go back to his sister, to protect her, because everything’s gone fucked up and sideways and he’s all she fucking has??/
you might think like, oh if he’s all she has, then why sacrifice himself? why not let mick do it? because 1, len also loves mick, let’s all be very real here, and 2, because like i mentioned, the time lords see lisa as a way to get to len. if he removes himself from the equation, there’s no reason for them to go after lisa, especially following the destruction of the occulus. there’s no len to hurt. so lisa is, by effect, safe.
☆ ━ If you could live in the world of your muse(s) would you?
…Probably not. I’m not cut out to fight every day. The only fighting I do is in video games. Though…if I did, I would find Vincent. And I would give him someone who listens, if he desired it. I love him dearly–he’s taught me so much. I can’t give anything back to him besides writing him to the best of my ability, so if I could tell him that everything will be all right, that the dawn always comes despite all odds…I would.
☑ ━ What’s something not a lot of people know about you?
warnings are in place for death of a family member, vivid recollection of a stroke, and funeral mention.
My father passed away on April 27, 2016, a week after my twenty-second birthday. It still hurts–my Daddy and I were very close. He’s the reason that this new-fangled…daddy kink makes me a little uncomfortable when someone tries to include me. He taught me all my business-savvy tricks ( he’s the reason i’m often the only person in my circle who has money ) and how to build awnings, carports, and patio trim. He taught me how to drive, and he bought me my first GameBoy, the GameBoy Advance. Despite him going bankrupt in the nineties because of that depression ( he hadn’t wanted to let any of his employees go because he was kind and knew they had families to provide for. eventually, he had to, because the money ran out. ), I never knew we wanted for everything. I hear stories, about he, my mother, his best friend, and his best friend’s wife would go to Las Vegas nearly every year. I think we went once when I was small. He taught me about magic, about how love can heal a person, and how if you double that love you can make all sorts of injuries simply vanish. He taught me about prayer, about how asking for something with your heart can cause a miracle to happen. He always believed in the best in people, even the people who didn’t deserve it. And though he was all of these things, at his funeral, my deacon said: “He wasn’t the type of person you called by his first name. He was always Mr. [my legal surname].” I strive to be everything he was, and surpass him. He wanted that. I remember countless times we talked about my college, about plans to pay for it, about jobs and what’s worth it and what isn’t. We talked about my art, my voice, my intelligence. Many a night I know I sat beside his recliner and we either watched TV or talked for hours.
It was…sudden. He was on his way to work–it’s just across our driveway, his shop that he built himself. He’d already had a…quadruple bypass, I think it was, and…he had a stroke. I came up front, and my two dogs weren’t as happy as usual, so I asked them what was wrong. Billbo led me right to him, and Gomer was sitting ever so quietly–extremely unusual for him. I saw a foot poking out from behind a doghouse, and there he was. He’d fallen and hit his head. I called the paramedics, but…
That had been Monday, April 25th. He died two days later, at his own request–no huge operations, it was. We had them drill a hole in his skull to drain brain fluid, but his brain was swelling–pushing against his skull.
He died at six a.m. on Wednesday.
It amazes me how little my mother and I cried, but perhaps…we had already accepted it. I cried before it happened–my father was eighty-two, sixty when I was born. I had prayed for him to see me graduate, and he will. Just…not like I was expecting. He waits, across the veil. He does not linger, for he has faith in us.
I did not cry at his funeral. I sang instead. “Ave Maria.” It was…the best acapella performance I’ve ever done. I wavered on not a single note. I remember what I was wearing. My old and fraying knee-high boots, for all of his were patched though blackened; a black dress patterned with dragons, for he loved the Anne McCaffrey books, as my mother does; black leggings because I hadn’t shaved in a week and a half; the dragons on the dress had to be white, for someone dear to me who could not be there ( for white is the color of mourning in many eastern countries ); my wedding ring, for my darling who could not come nor ever had the opportunity to introduce himself to my father; a black heart necklace with devil wings for my best friend who lived across the sea.
I love my father dearly, and of course I miss him. But I must have faith–he is not gone forever. I will see him again.