carry you edit

8

I always wrote. I wrote from when I was 12. That was therapeutic for me in those days. I wrote things to get them out of feeling them, and onto paper. So writing in a way saved me, kept me company. I did the traditional thing with falling in love with words, reading books and underlining lines I liked and words I didn’t know.

2

Remember the white dress I wore all through that film? George came up to me the first day of filming, took one look at the dress and said: “You can’t wear a bra under that dress.” “Ok, I’ll bite,” I said. “Why?” And he said: “Because… there’s no underwear in space.” He said it with such conviction. Like he had been to space and looked around and he didn’t see any bras or panties anywhere. He explained. “You go into space and you become weightless. Then your body expands but your bra doesn’t, so you get strangled by your own underwear.” I think that this would make for a fantastic obituary. I tell my younger friends that no matter how I go, I want it reported that I drowned in moonlight, strangled by my own bra.

HE SAID, “SON WHEN YOU GROW UP
WOULD YOU BE, THE SAVIOR OF THE BROKEN,
THE BEATEN AND THE DAMNED?”

I’ll go home

No but really think about the lyrics of Welcome to the Black Parade within the context of FFXV and try not to cry

9

Haikyuu!! | karasuno + extra phone wallpapers | asked by anon (540x960)

2

Happy 30th Birthday, Phil Lester!!  ☆ ~(‘▽^人)

i couldnt think of an edit to sum up how beautiful phil lester is and how much he means to me but i wanted to join in the celebrations anyway!! :D 

Our dearest Phil has turned 30 and I feel like this milestone is a commemoration to everything Phil has achieved and the incredibly smart and loving and silly person he is. He’s such a huge and significant part of all of our lives, and for good reason! Phil is inspiring and creative and encouraging, and he’s loving, with a caring spirit and a big heart.

I’m ever so grateful that you let us into your life, giving someone to guide us and to believe in. From the moment you first existed, you were destined for great things.

So, to Phil Lester on this January 30 - I wish you all the happiness in the world, and that all your birthday wishes come true. I, and the rest of your fans, can’t wait to see how much further you go :)

ad a s t r a per a s p e r a // from hardships to the stars

2

Every magician inherits some family artefact. Baz has a wand, like me; all the Pitches are wandworkers. But Penny has a ring. And Gareth has a belt buckle. (It’s really inconvenient—he has to thrust his pelvis forward whenever he wants to cast a spell. He seems to think it’s cheeky, but no one else does.)

okay, this is totally irrelevant, but have a quick story time because i had to scroll past this post and felt guilty.

way back in time, many summers ago, little old me went to visit the local library for the first time. i was young, very young, in elementary school at the time, and it blew my mind. see, the local library is more of a city library, because it’s located in the town square and is absolutely massive. we’re talking three stories and a grand staircase here. there were so many books! for free! for literal free! and i could have all of them! 

so, because elementary school me had no idea what restraint was or how to apply it to my daily life, i checked out approximately 20 books. possibly more. (the library only had a checkout limit on academic texts. well. used to only have.) i then went home and read voraciously, and was done with all of these books in about 5 days.

only no one believed i had finished all of them that fast. my parents refused to take me back, because they thought there was no way i could have finished them all. 

believe you me i was not about to take this lying down, so i must have argued for hours before i finally accepted defeat. i went back up to my room and shoved this pile of books under my bed, determined to bring them out again on my next trip to the library.

by now you might be getting an inkling of where this story is going. 

that pile of books was then forgotten under my bed until approximately my freshman year of high school, when i unearthed it as i cleaned out my room. (i was going through a ‘reinvent myself’ phase and had decided the new me was not going to be a compulsive hoarder.) somehow, in all of that time, i had never returned to the library. it seemed unbelievable. how could this have happened? i must have sat there for a solid 10 minutes in stupefied horror, running my fingers over the dust-coated spines. i knew immediately i had to return these books.

i did not immediately return the books. because freshman me was dumb as hell about a lot of things, but not about consequences, and i knew there were going to be consequences.

eventually, though, i womaned up and grabbed my wallet and a bag for the books and went to the library again. i marched right up to the front desk area and said i had some books to return and some fines to pay. so they direct me to another desk, where i hand over the decades-old (hahaha but really) library card.

this is where it went to hell in a handbasket. 

turns out when my parents brought me to the library they didn’t register for a full library card and opted to get a ‘guest’ one that would expire in a few weeks. they only put down the home phone number, no address or email. except the phone number was one digit wrong. so this library card had 20 books on it when it expired, and the librarians had to keep refreshing it or whatever for the past however many years while also repeatedly calling a number that never worked. so the fines kept racking up and they had no way of tracking down the owner of the card. 

things only got worse when i pulled out the stack of books and put them on the counter. now, i did my best to wipe off the dust and grime, but there was only so much i could do. these books looked like they belonged in a haunted house or an evil witch’s lair after spending years under my bed, and from the way the librarian was glaring at me by then i was pretty sure that was where my corpse was gonna end up too.

skip ahead to after the librarian scans all of these books, death-glaring me into submission the entire time, and informs me my total amount of fines owed is $90.26. which holy shit. holy fucking shit.

keep in mind i was an itsy-bitsy freshman in high school at this time. $90 was a lot of money to me. as a matter of fact, it still is. so i’m getting out my wallet and counting the money inside, and lucky for me i happened to have $100 and 25 cents. lucky is actually a bit of an understatement, because i got the feeling that if i had anything less or wasn’t able to pay the fine a haunted house would be one of the nicer places my corpse was gonna end up. 

except i wasn’t done being a little shit, because i apparently hadn’t learned my lesson yet. whatever that lesson was supposed to be. so while i could have put down $100 and waited to get my 74 cents change, i put down $90 and 25 cents. 

so the librarian started counting the money, and i started subtly moonwalking towards the door. as fortune would have it, i reached the glass-paned portal to salvation the moment that librarian realized i was exactly 1 cent short of paying off my fine.

she looks up and sees me standing at the door, hand wrapped around the handle. i look back at her. cue the western standoff music.

i don’t know how long we stood there. i honestly don’t. it could have been seconds. it could have been minutes. all i know is that when i felt my palms start to sweat and my knees begin to shake, i wrenched that door open with all of my strength. i had to go. 

and the librarian- the fucking librarian- vaults the desk and comes after me.

the noise that came out of my mouth was not human. it was somewhere between the shriek of a prey animal and the dying wail of an electric guitar. because this librarian, swear to god, was ancient. i’m talking ancient ancient. so ancient my own grandma (bless her heart) would look young. white-haired, sweater-vested bottle-glasses-wearing ancient. yet here she is, heels clicking across the floor, ankle-length skirt flying behind her and twin fires of pure fury burning in her eyes. i could almost hear the souls of the damned strike up their chorus. 

i deadass sprinted out of there so fast my gym teacher would have been proud. i put every action movie star from the past three decades to shame. usain bolt himself would have looked slow next to me. and i did not stop until i was standing in my bedroom again, several miles away.

to this day, i have not set foot in the city library again. i know that if i do, i will not escape alive. sometimes, in the deep, dark of the night, i hear high heels clicking across tiled floor and the sound of a door slamming shut behind me. i burned my library card and never keep anything under the bed.

so, if you’re ever wondering why i can never go to a library again, this post is why.