i'm in love with a human disaster

1812: Do not you feel a great inclination, Miss Bennet, to seize such an opportunity of dancing a reel?

2012:

Related to that last reblog

(Screencap from 1x03)

Imagine going home with Mike Lawson. THE Mike Lawson. SO COOL! What a story. He’s so hot. You’re walking up the steps to his bedroom, and you see THIS?

SERIOUSLY YOU HUMAN DISASTER FUCKING NARCISSIST YOU NEED TO CHILL

(I love the details put into this show. He mentions his narcissism in ep 1 and we actually see the depth in ep 3)

Also, after a conversation with @tacos we have decided that when Ginny sees it, she torments him ENDLESSLY. It’s just so ridiculous and so him.

Then one day, she gets home after a long roadtrip. She drops her bag at the door, drags her tired self to her bedroom, and drops onto the mattress. Once she looks up, she’s greeted with the sight of THIS FUCKING PAINTING HUNG UP ON HER CEILING BECAUSE MIKE IS MIKE AND OF COURSE HE WOULD DO THIS. He attached a post-it note to the frame saying “to replace the one in your childhood bedroom”.

SO I realize I have not posted since January but I had a VERY IMPORTANT CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT EPIPHANY Bryce.

No not really. I’m just dumb and five and have decided that this gorgeous 5′7″ girl with huge bobbies and a great behind who is a dream waifu (not really) also gets the worst gas ever, like she’s that person who belches and you can hear it in the other room, and who’s farts can clear a room. And like, nearly everything causes it, but particularly beans and cram. Both which she will eat anyway, because she thinks its hilarious to be disgusting. So it happens quite a lot.

She likes to like… let out a particularly big one and leave a room. Or dutch oven her partner and laugh.

Doris thinks it’s disgusting and judges so hard and gets so ANNOYED and disgusted by it. Like she’s so like “>O bad manners”. Which amuses the shit out of the little troll.

2

I love my life… I’m not trying to escape. I promise.

i’m watching “long way round” and i gotta say ewan mcgregor is probably the calmest aries in the world

4

On Being Human‘s Mitchell’s style: “I always looked a little less camp than I thought I would look. The jeans feel tighter than they look sometimes, and with the boots and things, you pull them all on, look at yourself in the mirror sometimes, and go, ‘Oh, its a disaster.’ You look back when it comes out, and you go, ‘Actually, Mitchell is a little bit cool.’ I like his style .”

It’s 3am and i should be asleep but instead I just read @becomeawendybird’s new fic Sun Dappled and I’m finger painting some fanart of it on my tablet because I’m a human disaster but her fic is adorable and Harry is EXTRA ADORABLE

Of course this is less comforting in a minute. OOPS. I wonder what Rei would’ve said if she’d known. Evoke the Outers maybe? YOU KNOW HOW CUDDLY THEY ARE

“Usagi, don’t forget, you have Michiru.”

Usagi just staring at Rei like

Rei shifts her gaze uncomfortably and fades away a little faster.

SEE IF I’M LAUGHING I’M NOT CRYING

Not that this line gets me too badly. It’s actually the only one that doesn’t completely work for me. Interestingly, it serves a similar function as Rei’s line about Yuuichiro at D-Point. In both cases, they don’t fit their moment, and that’s because they’re laying groundwork for a different moment entirely. At D-Point, it was so Rei’s last words would echo with Usagi, stopping her from kissing Mamoru before she went to fight Beryl (which I adore, so I suffer the clunkiness of the set-up, though I think Usagi’s decision would’ve worked without being specifically pre-established). Here, it’s to remind the audience that Usagi and Rei (and we) think Mamoru is still around, so when it’s revealed he’s dead, it’ll be (ostensibly) an even more devastating blow. Again though, I don’t think the reminder really needed reminding since it’s been reinforced all season.

So this line just kind of sits there, not feeling very natural, PARTICULARLY because it’s coming from Rei, in the wake of her confronting Usagi and the big reveal that she hasn’t heard from Mamoru at all. The last we heard of the Senshi discussing Mamoru, Ami confirmed that he’d never arrived at the university. That doesn’t exactly lead to the conclusion Rei’s going for right now.

Still, there’s some wiggle room with it. What Rei wants to give Usagi more than anything else is determination. Rei wants to be as certain as she can be that Usagi won’t give up, she needs to give her anything she possibly can to cling to. And it’s kind of great that Rei dangles Mamoru in front of Usagi, in a way. Beyond anything else, Usagi responds REALLY WELL to reward-based structures, so I’m faintly amused that even now, Rei’s relying on what works.

Mostly though, what breaks me here is Rei slipping in one last “idiot”. Said in the most loving way with the saddest smile on her face at how silly Usagi still insists on being. So many people love you, Usagi. Don’t you know by now you’ll never be alone?

Rei’s in so much pain, she’s got to be so tired and hurting. And fucking scared, she’s sixteen years old and DYING. But she hears Usagi being afraid of being alone and all she can do is give her that look, filled with such love, and calling her the same familiar thing she’s been calling her since their beginning. It was a harsher word then, spat in frustration and intended to sting. It’s a caress now, a term of endearment, meant to soothe with comforting familiarity. And that moment exists for Rei and Usagi both, a final memory they share.

Which brings us to the end.

The Willow Tree (Fairy Tail Fanfiction)

yetanothersadwriter was giving me some prompts for angst week, and this is what I thought of when I read her idea ^.^

This is for Bonus Day: Happy Ever After/Perfect Disaster.

~~

I’ve heard of many tragedies. Shootings, kidnappings, people losing loved ones to various accidents and diseases, and so on. There are so many stories and books whose pages have been damp with tears no matter how cliche the problem was. Every human has their soft spot, some are easy to reach, and others a little more difficult. No matter who or how strong one thinks they are, they always have something they can’t afford to lose.

I always thought I was strong, and yet my world was torn apart so easily.. I guess there really is no such thing as happily ever after.

I think it was about a year ago, when everything was so… incredibly normal. Drivers were rushing through the streets with their incoherent honking and crude language. People filled the sidewalks, distracted and hurried from what they had to do. It didn’t bug me, that was the kind of atmosphere I was once used to.

I was on my old, beaten down delivery bike on my normal route, whistling an original tune I hoped one day I could take to the stage. The streets were flying by, except for the occasional stop to drop of a package. The routes were going by faster than usual, since I was happy, my paycheck was just raised to the point where I had enough money to buy something very special.

Well, happy until I got a phone call, that is. And then I froze, and the world froze, and everything I cared about slipped out of my hands. The phone threatened to fall from my shaking fingers as the nurse spoke in a cold, monotone voice: Lucy was in the hospital, her parents and her were in a car crash. Her parents were dead and the doctor wasn’t sure if Lucy was going to wake up.

And I dropped the phone and sped as fast as I could towards her.

As thick as my mind was clouded, it was only by heaven’s grace that I got to the hospital, and was immediately rushed to her room. I hadn’t listened to a word they had said to me as I walked through the endless hallways, the bright lights and repetitive checkered pattern going unnoticed by my minds eye, my step only slowing as I reached the overbearing doorway.

When I finally saw her, she had bandages wrapped over head - thick and red, a neck brace supporting her, almost too tightly, and one of her eyes was incredibly swollen. Even if she woke up, I doubt she would be able to open it. She was covered in a white sheet, blotted with scarlet spots where she had already bled through her bandages. I stumbled over to her bed, falling on my knees as I reached her side, my hands clasping around her small fingers.

I remember clearly how cold it felt to the touch.

The nurses were still talking in the background, but I ignored them like I would the crowd in a cafe. I rested my forehead on her stomach, listening to the relieving heartbeat, too lost inside myself to do anything else.

Just three days later, we had planned to meet in the town park. We had made a deal - more like she forced me to accept the idea - that if I brought my guitar and notebook she would bring lunch. We would meet at noon at her favorite spot - a little bench under a willow tree, where the sun met through its branches just right, and there were always small squirrels and birds harvesting for food. I knew her plans: We would write a song together.

We would have written a song together. It would have been silly and goofy so we would have laughed about it until the stars came out. Both of our faces would be flushed pink and we both would have half eaten sandwiches in our laps. The birds would have sung along with our laughter while we got strange looks from the passersby. We would sometimes get off topic, and would have one point fed the neglected food to the squirrels. Neither of us would care about anything anyone thought about us, for we were the only thing that mattered in our own little paradise.

I always loved her for simple reasons like that. We could go somewhere as exciting as Disneyland and still have the same amount of fun in our own little town in our own little paradise.

That special thing I told you about earlier? It was a small, diamond ring, that sat in a glass box in the window of a small jewelry shop. Everytime we passed there, she thought she was inconspicuous, but I saw her glance at the simple wonder, and I would see her smile; see the soft longing in her eyes before her gaze redirected to the dirty road in front of us.

So that day, before our little date, I would have went and bought the ring, then hid it in one of my coat pockets. At the end of the night, I would have played that song for her. My guitar would have sat in my lap, and I would smile and watch her as she did a dance to it. Afterwards, I would shown her that simple ring, watched her face blush a precious pink, and I would’ve asked her to marry me, so that there wouldn’t be another day that would pass that we wouldn’t smile under the shadow of her favorite willow tree.

I guess I fell asleep at some time or the other, because I was woken up by the rustling of sheets. I had yawned, unaware of where I was at the moment, the bright hospital light blinded my vision, my neck stiff and memory foggy. I had lifted my head, and was met by an amber eye looking down on me.

“Lucy!” I had yelled, throwing my arms around her in a hug. My hands were shaking with relief and my cheeks were covered in sparkling tears of joy. I held onto her so tight.. So that she could never slip away again.

Little did I know, she was already gone.

It came very clear though, as with a blank face, her voice somewhat appalled by my actions and her hands trying to push me off, she told me “I’m sorry, do I know you?”

—-

An hour later, I was pacing outside her room, my hands driven down into my pockets and my brow furrowed. I didn’t know if I should cry or not, I didn’t know if I should leave or not, I just didn’t know right from wrong. The world was spinning so fast now.. It was leaving me back in its shadow. The doctor came out, and told me the worse thing that could have possibly happened. She had amnesia, and she wasn’t going to get her memories back. So they were going to send her to some family over in another country where she could start over in a safe environment…

Also, that I shouldn’t go to see her anymore. It would just stir confusion.

I went home, I don’t know how, and I don’t know when. I honestly don’t remember much, I was in a daze, where I couldn’t think, I couldn’t cry, I couldn’t deny what he was saying and rush in there and make her remember me. I couldn’t do anything.

The only thing I could tell myself was she was gone.. But she wasn’t dead. I guess I should’ve been happy for that reason, but I couldn’t be. She would go on the rest of her life, not even thinking of her parents, or the life she left behind. She would never think of that little diamond ring shining in the jewelery shop window, which I now avoid at every cost even though I know it’s been long since sold. She wouldn’t think of the songs we used to listen to till midnight, and the ones I now have deleted from my phone because they make me think of her. She wouldn’t think about her little bench under the shadow of the willow tree, with her precious squirrels and the light that once made her look so beautiful.. And she wouldn’t think about me. Never again.

If she had died, I know she would be waiting for me in some kind of afterlife where we could recreate our paradise, and we could laugh and sing songs together again. But after that car crash, I wasn’t a part of her anymore, and so I couldn’t even look forward to seeing her again, because she would have the same blank expression as the people I passed on the street. I was a nobody to her, yet she was, and is still, an everything to me.

I’d stayed there, in my bed, completely emotionless for hours upon hours. It was dark.. And my entire body had the same sensation as it did when I touched her cold fingers. I was shivering, my eyes half shut, but they weren’t filled with tears. I felt absolutely nothing. When finally my daze wore off, I guess I was washed over with some kind of hope. I rode my bike back to hospital, the city lights bright as the world flew past me, convinced I could make her remember me, but when I got there, they told me she was already gone.

That it had been three days since the accident. And then I left, I had no where to go or no reason to move on.

So I got my guitar and my notebook, sat under the shadow of her favorite willow tree, and wept.