burning in the heart

"Moriarty slipped up, he made a mistake..."

Oh, no. He didn’t. 
He told Eurus about Molly. 

In those 5 minutes, he told her about the things that would drive Sherlock out of his mind. And of course, he also told her about the person who mattered the most, giving her the opportunity to play with Sherlock’s emotions. 

Thus, even after death, Moriarty managed to “burn the heart out of him”.

Moriarty has not finished yet.

Many times have we heard that Moriarty’s intention was to burn the heart out of Sherlock. That was the point of The Final Problem, right? Moriarty siding with Eurus in his last posthumous game to mentally destroy our dear detective. 

But is that really what Moriarty promised to do?

Let’s go back, way back, to The Great Game, the pool scene. 

Moriarty indeed says he will burn the heart of him, but what was that a second before? Jim Moriarty never intended to let Sherlock live. He wanted to destroy him, make him suffer and then kill him.

Now, if this was not a reference to The Reichenbach Fall, which we learn it wasn’t, since his suicide there and Sherlock’s survival was all part of a bigger Eurus’ plan, then… we didn’t quite get to see this part of his promise, right?

In fact, Moriarty was not reprogrammed by Eurus. Mycroft and Sherlock were immune to her manipulative skills too and Moriarty has shown that he has ‘the deduction thing’ too, so in the end, he wasn’t very different from the Holmes brothers which leads me to conclusion Jim did not fall a victim to Eurus. It was all according to his plan. 

But… he didn’t really succeed, did he? I mean… it’s all over… Or is it not?

me: i shouldn’t want to fight everyone

me @ me: but why are all of sophie’s interactions with antagonistic characters never really resolved? i mean i know when the witch of the waste loses all of her power sophie takes pity on her and lets her stay around but what about madame suliman? what about the woman who deliberately endangered howl and was draining wizards and witches of all their magic? so howl just flies sophie out of there and then she never shows up again until the end? like why? look i don’t want a lot in this life but i think it’s a grave injustice that sophie hatter, pure cinnamon roll and queen of my heart, never got to actually go up against anybody legitimately dangerous even after she realized she was a witch, and it may or may not be my job to rectify that shit

“Make Them Work For It”

This scene repaint was originally in my deviantArt gallery (see link below), but I thought I’d upload it here too as my first decent art post. This was my best piece last year, IMO. I’m sincerely hoping my future work lives up to this one…sometimes I feel like I end up with “lucky” pieces. :P

Anyway, have Cullen from In Your Heart Shall Burn. I love this quest so much - up there with Wicked Eyes and Wicked Hearts and Here Lies the Abyss for me.

http://www.deviantart.com/art/Make-Them-Work-For-It-651796098

when the wolf comes home she will breathe
it has been so long since air
real air
has touched her lungs
filled with the smell of asphalt and iron
of neon and chrome
of the sun and city and home
after years of suffocating
she will breathe

when the wolf comes home she will speak
her voice towering above even the highest walls
telling the stories of those she left behind
she will shout until they listen
and they will listen
because she is the keeper of the lost
and they will be found

when the wolf comes home she will rage
there is work to do
people to find
debts to pay
and hundreds of ghosts that have something to say
she will raze through the halls of those who abandoned her
burning and blazing with all her heart
so big and so small
until there is only justice
and ashes

when the wolf comes home she will cry
the weight of lives and loves and letting go
hanging from her like chains
lead raindrops down her face
her guilt and grief reminding her
you are alive
you are alive
you are alive

when the wolf comes home she will laugh
laugh until her body
frailer and smaller and painted with scars
shakes like a thunderclap
it is the greatest strength we have as people
for in the face of horror and hell
she smiles

when the wolf comes home she will live
the world is a big, beautiful place
and oh how she missed it
she has a family now
one that carries memories of the worst years of her life
and she loves them for it
a special kind of connection
that only those who have walked through hell together can share
the battle is over
the world is new again
and finally
she will live

—  when the wolf comes home (a song from isabelle lovelace) // p.s

I’m sorry darling, time has come to let you go. I tried everything and realized that I couldn’t do this anymore. My heart is full of pain, my lungs burn with every breath I take, and I’m afraid of all my tears I will shed for you. It feels like something is choking me down! Yes, I am weaker than I thought, but I still hope that our golden souls stick back together one day. I wish you the best, even though I thought I was the best for you. I swear… I loved you even more than my self.

anonymous asked:

Janitor, I need you to do a rather morbid favor for me. If I should die, I want you to cut out my heart and lungs and burn them. Burn them till they're ash and don't let anyone bury me, or send my body home or anything until it's done.-Faerie

Certainly. I am not questioning why. I’ve heard of some very strange curses that would require something like that. Anywhere in particular they need to be burnt? A specific kind of wood? And do I need any herbs or other things in the fire? ~ the janitor

My feverish mind
is desperate for explosions.


I want sadness to erupt from my soul
and spill out into my bloodstream,
filling me to the brim
and then draining out into the streets
and into the sewer drains,
leaving me shaking, reeling,
but not empty.


I want anger to rise to a boil and fill my skull with steam, screaming as it leaves my ears and eyes and mouth.
I want my clenched fists to beg me to breathe deeply,
so that I may listen and obey,
reborn from the ashes of the cities within me that I burned to the ground.


I want joy to make my heart ache,
to blind me with bright white radiance and leave me post-coital,
with sunlight dancing in my veins.


I want fear to have its way with me,
aggressive, gnashing its dirty nails into my chest.
I want it to cut off my circulation
and send ice water down to my fingertips and toes,
and then leave behind
the serenity that follows a storm.


I want love to feel close and tangible,
and for it to consume me in vines
that squeeze out any doubt that I ever had about the ability of lives
to be intertwined indefinitely,
an ethereal synchronization of heartbeats
that shakes my core and breaks my ribs.


I want my hurricanes to be felt,
my wars to be waged in earnest,
and my mind to never hesitate to ravage my body
and leave behind whatever dares to survive.


But instead,
there are but timid waves of emotional brinkmanship,
lapping at the shore with meek persistence,
always a subtle, dull mixture of things.

—  G.S