in the end you are the one who is alive

Music asks, personalized list

1. A Song you’re ashamed of liking
2. Favourite lyrics
3. Favourite band/artist
4. Top 5 Favourite songs at this moment
5. Latest song that made you smile
6. An overrated band
7. An overrated song
8. Latest song that made you cry
9. Artist/band that saved your life
10. If you could see any band/artist live, who would it be
11. What song/album/band/artist always brings back memories for you
12. saddest song you know
13. Favourite song to sing in the shower
14. If you played an instrument in grade school, what was it
15. What song would you like to have your first dance to at your wedding
16. 5 Songs to have sex to
17. One band you’d have get back together/bring back from the dead
18. You’re forced to listen to only one album for the rest of your life, what album is it
19. A song that gets you through shit
20. A song to shut everything out
21. A song that’s a joke between you and your friends
22. A song to jam out to at 4am
23. A song that punches you in the gut every single time
24. A song that calms you down
25. A song that makes you feel alive
26. If you could get any lyrics tattooed, which would you choose
27. What band/artist would you get your children addicted to at an early age
28. Can you play any instruments, if so, which
29. If you could be a member of any band for one show, who would it be
30. CDs or Vinyls
31. 25 songs to play at your funeral
32. What are some song titles that you love
33. If your life ended today, what song would you choose to represent it
34. Can you give me a 10 song playlist on ____
35. A heart wrenching song
36. A band/artist you’re proud of
37. A song that has a lot of meaning to you
38. A song that reminds you of school
39. A song not sung in your native language
40. An instrumental song
41. A classical song
42. A song with no percussion
43. Something you’ve heard performed live
44. Something you’d give ANYTHING to hear performed live
45. A song from a band/artist that’s from your town/city/state/province
46. A song made suddenly precious because of a special someone
47. A song made suddenly painful because of someone special
48. A song that demands lip syncing and a makeshift microphone
49. A song from a band/artist you met/know
50. A song that you would rock at karaoke
51. A song you can’t help but dance to
52. A song that makes you want to dance on a table
53. Your 10 song striper playlist
54. Favourite Disney song
55. A song that starts with the first letter of your name
56. A song from an artist still alive
57. A song from an artist who’s dead
58. A song you love by an artist/band you hate
59. A song you love with a colour in the title
60. A song you love with a number in the title
61. A song that reminds you of someone you would rather forget about
62. A song that needs to be played LOUD
63. A song that makes you think about life
64. 15 Songs that get suck in your head easily
65. A song that you think everyone should listen to
66. A song that makes you want to fall in love
67. A song that makes you think about ‘him/her’
68. A song that you remember from your childhood
69. A song that reminds you of you
70. Okay what’s the real answer to number 1

your father was an inventor. you knew better than to trust him in the center of town. he came home with scrap metal and built ships to glide on the grass. when you were young, you loved him for making. for a brief five years, you hated him, embarrassed of the town loon, embarrassed of what raised you.

but time shifts things. the man in town wants to marry you. a beautiful man by every account, and you hear many accounts. your nose in books doesn’t stop the stories of him: Gaston, bright, young, proud. Gaston, who could hunt and carve and flex his muscles. who forgot even himself what was true and what was fiction. it is a small village in paris, at the base of a kingdom. he is the bachelor you should have your heart set on. 

you try to teach yourself to love him. he grins at you over beer mugs. never reads the books you suggest to him, drops one in the mud. and one night you hear him, drunk and singing, laughing with the others about your father, the crazy.

that night your father brings you a single white rose from a garden. you kiss your father and think of Gaston’s log cabin, where you could live in comfort.

they come for your father in the night. he is the property of the prince, on account of theft. his hands should be cut off and sewn to the walls of his house, to remind him of his failures. an inventor without hands is a death sentence. they come with fire and hatred. rip you out of bed. your knees hit the mud. you’re too small to fight them. they tear your father away from you, and your heart out of your chest.

you run to gaston. tall, fast, manly. you beg him. it’s a mistake, you cry, you must help - you gulp - and then we will marry. 

gaston laughs and slams oak door against nose. you stumble back, feeling like a knife is in your throat. you take the wagon horse and ride improper, legs spread and bent forward, none of the lady your mother would have wanted. you ride for the life of your father.

at the door of the castle you stop. it is raining. you shout and rave and beg anything. take me, you scream, if you’re listening i’ll do anything. what do you promise on that doorstep, crying yourself empty? what do you promise to keep him alive, to keep him whole, to keep him healthy?

the door opens late. no one is there. you remember, suddenly, the tale of the beast who lives here, who ate the prince, who is terrifying. you think you hear your father and suddenly you are running, following his voice down dark hallways with no ending. 

he is in a cell. his head is bleeding. you feel your breath hitch. 

“will you?” a voice says, “will you trade yourself for your father, take responsibility for his sin?”

“he’s innocent,” you snarl, “you animals.”

“the rose, belle,” he whispers, and you stare at him. a white rose that is wilting beside your bedside would have been the death of him.

“take me,” you say, somehow empty and full at the same time, “if that’s what you need.”

the first night is ugly. you spend it crying. 

over time, the castle learns you, and you learn it. you think you are imagining the talking furniture for most of it. invisible hands whisk food in and out, bring you ball gowns and petticoats and delicate flowers. 

and always, the beast. at first, you were terrified of it. always in the shadows. moving like a ghost, prowling. tall, slim. menacing. never showing any skin, any proof it might be human.

but time and comfort destroy fears. you don’t run when it is in the room, you no longer shield your face in fear. it wears a mask, and this is how you know it really must be beastly. 

it is the second winter when you, playing snowball fights with the statues - you manage to hit the beast in the face. you freeze, and the panic from the day they took your father returns in a firework.

but then the beast is throwing back. and you are laughing. the next morning it is at breakfast with you, and lunch. it comes and goes, and never speaks. laughs, sometimes, you think. talks with its hands. the furniture translates. you learn, because you are good at learning. the hands that mean can i come in? the hands that mean are you hungry? the hands that mean is it okay if i read next to you, here this book is good, i found this for you.

each morning you wake up with white roses by your bedside. you learn to talk a little louder than you’re used to, to move your own hands in a way that acknowledges the beast. it is strange that you were a quiet girl and now you are comfortable shouting. the two of you have your own language, together. it teaches you swordfighting, you teach it dancing. it teaches you archery and you teach it cooking. you walk through the gardens together. there are moments where your hands touch and for some reason you blush like it was kissing. you’ve never had someone who understands you so completely. sometimes you tell it about far-away stories. sometimes you tell it about your village. and sometimes, when you are raw, you tell it about gaston and the marriage you didn’t want and your father and his insanity

one of these nights the beast brings you the mirror. you cry when you see your father. and the beast is pulling you, running, picking out a horse from the stables, gesturing. go, go. you cry when you leave.

you save your father. tell him you’ll bring him back to the beast. do you talk too loud? is gaston only mad you never belonged to him? when the raid starts, you are still taking care of your father. outside, voices, ringing. kill the beast. you think of hands, dancing in the air to speak, and you think you have never heard something so ugly. you’re ashamed to be this species.

you ride in their wake, your father safe. you ride that same panicked race as three years ago to the day. 

you fight, because the beast taught you how. the castle fights, because it is protecting its life. and the beast - you watch the flash of a blade, careful not to kill - the ability you once mistook for savagery. 

it isn’t enough. gaston, and a gun. the three of you stand on the balcony, you in between. again you are begging this man, who means nothing. “leave the beast,” you say, “take me.”

“i’ll have both,” he says, and shoots. you feel the bullet streak by you. the beast is all movement, has pushed you out of the way. they grapple, and you scream when the beast falls, skittering. gaston marches over and you move without thinking. he falls into the night silently. 

you can’t get there quick enough. you gather the beast into your lap, begging be okay. at the mask, you whisper something, and then say it again with your hands. i love you, you say. you were the best thing to happen to me.

the mask slips. a voice says, “belle,” and you are hit with the full force of something that feels like music. you can’t breathe. 

the girl beneath the mask is beautiful. her blonde hair spills across your legs. she touches your face and her hands say i’m okay, and you’re laughing. you kiss her and roses open up in you. 

“i thought you were a beast,” you say with hands and lips a hair above hers, “and here you are, the beauty.”

she smiles sheepishly. it is hard when you are like me. 

your are sobbing. you kiss her again, because you can, because she’s here and perfect and the answer to questions you didn’t know you had been asking. 

her hands, curious, worried, search for your wet cheeks. i’m okay, really, belle. you saved me.

funny, your hands dance, i was about to say the same thing.

my new favorite thing is adding “bitch” to the end of Clexa quotes.


“You’re the one who burned three hundred of my warriors alive, bitch.”
“You’re the one who sent them there to kill us, bitch.”

“That’s what it means to be a leader, Clarke. The truth is, we must look into the eyes of our warriors and say, “Go die for me bitch.”

“Jus drein, jus daun bitch”

“Not everyone. Not you bitch.”

“What did you do bitch?”
“What you would’ve done. Saved my people bitch.”
“Where are my people bitch?”
“I’m sorry. They weren’t part of the deal bitch.”

“Don’t be afraid. Death is not the end bitch.”

“You went to all that trouble to capture me just to let me go bitch?”
“I went to all that trouble to save you bitch.”
“You know when I could’ve use saving? When you abandoned me in Mount Weather bitch.”
“Clearly, you didn’t need my help bitch.”
“Clearly bitch.”

“If you betray me again bitch…”
“I won’t bitch.”

“I’m glad you came bitch.”
“Me too bitch.”

“I never thought I’d see you again bitch.”
“I told you my spirit would choose wisely bitch.”


inspired by (x)

 KAI PARKER X READER (SMUT!!!)

HUNGRY

Desc: Reader is a newly turned vampire struggling to control their hunger and heightened feelings for Kai.

Blood sharing & smut included

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

“I’m so hungry,” you growled softly, a network of veins crawling to life beneath your eyes. Your whole body ached with a hunger only blood could satisfy, your fangs piercing lightly into your dry tongue. 

You stood in the forest, surrounded by bright green trees, your boots sinking into the rich soil beneath your feet. It smelt of pines and fresh air, but all your mind could do was spin with the urge to feed. Rays of feeble sunlight trickled from the dark clouds that hung low in the grey sky. You tried to be good because you didn’t want to hurt anyone, but you were a newly turned vampire, and animal blood only soothed your cravings slightly. You’d promised everyone you had everything under control, and they’d all bought it. Everyone except-

You heard the whoosh of somebody appearing behind you, and turned to face a cocky looking Kai.

“You can always try the human diet,” he offered. “Running away from me won’t make you any less hungry.”

His lips twitched slightly, forming his familiar & smug smirk. His blue eyes glimmered, his defined cheeks rosy, brown locks smoothed perfectly atop his head. He was stunning, yes, but…

“Kai, you hurt people, and I can’t do that,” you replied firmly. 

“Oh don’t play so innocent,” Kai teased. “I know you’re not the perfect girl you pretend to be.”

You felt your heart miss a beat momentarily, and you swallowed the lump in your throat with a little shake of your head.

“Leave me alone, Malachai.”

“But you’re so much fun, princess,” he smiled, licking over his pink lips.

You rolled your eyes and turned away, waiting for Kai to leave.

“Look, I know why you might not trust me,” he started softly, with genuine concern.

Your eyes fluttered closed, while you tried to block out the sound of his voice.

“But I promise you I can help you through this. I won’t tell anyone that you’d been lying to them, (Y/N). Just, please…let me be the good guy for once.”

You took in a deep breath, the veins under your eyes fading momentarily. 

“You don’t get to be the good guy, Kai. Because you’re not a good guy,” you hissed under your breath, refusing to look at him.

In a second, you were thrown backwards, your back thudding roughly against the sharp bark of the tree behind you. You yelped out, Kai pinning you firmly in place, his aroma overwhelming you, his eyes dark with anger.

“You know what, you’re right,” he breathed over, his voice low. “I’m not good, but neither are you. And don’t give me any of your bullshit, because I know the girl you are, the one you’re scared to show to anyone else. You’re a vampire now, and vampires kill. And as much as you might deny it, I know your pretty little mouth wants to be engulfed with the flavor of warm blood, and with your emotions heightened, you must be dying to try all the dirty little things you’ve never tried before,” he purred huskily.

Your chest rose heavily, eyes flickering over Kai’s annoyingly perfect features. It was impossible to think straight with his chest pressed so hard into you.

“You’re wrong,” you lied.

“Awh, really?” Kai murmured, his blue eyes drinking you up. “So if I did this,” he said, trailing his slender fingers between your thighs, “you’d feel nothing?” 

It was insane how much electricity you could feel through just the whisper of his fingertips, and how you noticed each individual goosebump arising under his touch.

“N-no,” you stammered, with little result.

“And this?” Kai hummed, his hands firm on your waist as he brought his lips gently to your neck. His mouth grazed over your skin, tongue gently swiping over your exposed flesh. Something inside of you stirred, and you involuntarily released a quiet moan.

Kai stopped, squeezing your hips lightly, his lips coming to your earlobe.

“That’s what I thought,” he whispered.

He released you at once, his blue eyes alight with lust. Without a word, he moved to leave you, his point proven. You vamp sped up to Kai, grabbing his wrists from behind, and slamming his body straight into an oak tree before he could react. His back hit the tree trunk hard, but he wasn’t phased at all, the look in his eyes knowing. Your hands trembled slightly, strands of your tangled hair toppling across your eyes. You stared at the malicious bad boy, feeling stupid for the way he made you crumble so easily. You bent forward, touching your forehead to his, eyes locking with his blazing blue ones. You breathed in Kai’s overpowering scent, dark veins crawling across your face as you inhaled. Your heart thrummed loudly, the only thing you could focus on being Kai’s fresh warm blood.

“Do it, (Y/N),” he dared, as if reading your thoughts. Kai raised a wrist to your parched lips, and your fangs sprung back out at once. “You know you want to.”

Without a second thought, you seized Kai’s wrist, bringing it straight up to your hungry mouth. Your fangs sunk deep into his flesh, and the taste of him instantly flooded through your lips. Both your hands came up to pin his arm harder into you, and you groaned in pleasure, your hands trembling from the need for more.

Kai brought his right hand up, and pushed your head gently into the crook of his neck, where he held you lightly. You could feel his cool rings against you as he brushed his fingers through your locks softly, cooing, “that’s right, sweetheart, keep going.”  

You nuzzled into him, the taste of his blood like a drug, the hunger inside you somehow only growing, not yet satisfied. Kai’s mouth hung open, and he let out a soft moan, the sight of your fragile form in his arms too much for him. His eyes grew dark with hunger, veins crackling beneath them. You whimpered against Kai’s wrist before releasing him, your eyes black, his blood leaving a red mess all over your mouth. Kai looked over you with adoration, a lopsided smile on his lips.

“Are you hungry?” you asked him when you saw his eyes.

“Not for blood,” he grinned, his tongue flicking over his fangs.

Kai seized you by the waist and flipped you onto the leaf strewn forest floor, so you grabbed his ankles, throwing him down beside you with a laugh. You whooshed onto his chest, straddling his body and bending over his lips to kiss him before he could react. He responded at once, hands flying up to grab your ass, tongue sliding into your mouth and fighting for dominance with yours. Kai sucked the excess blood from your mouth, a growl emanating from his throat as his lips worked with more force. His faint stubble brushed over your skin, and he squeezed your backside roughly as his lips molded perfectly against your own. You could feel Kai’s large bulge growing beneath you, and your hands instantly reached for his belt buckle. You tossed Kai’s pants off, and then literally ripped his shirt from his chest, your mouth peeling from his to dive into his rippled front. You trailed your tongue down across Kai’s chest before leaving sloppy kisses all over him, brushing your fingertips teasingly across his boxer line. Aggravated by your control over him, Kai flipped you onto your back, peeling off your own clothes, his breath heavy as he delved into your breasts. His name toppled softly off your lips, your head rolling back as he squeezed, sucked, and bit at your flesh. His lips attached around your nipple, and your hands went sliding into his hair as you held him there. The knot in your stomach grew tighter, the wetness between your legs increasing with every second. Every little thing he did to you was filled with so much more intensity as a vampire, and it felt good. Kai removed his mouth, leaving little kisses all down your belly and to your underwear. He hooked his teeth around the lace, removing the fabric easily before taking off his own boxers. Your eyes drifted down to his length, your eyes widening, the lump in your throat growing. Kai caught you staring, and did another one of his smug smirk’s. 

“Ohhh,” Kai sighed, two of his fingers rubbing circles gently against your clit. “I’ve wanted to fuck you senseless from the moment I laid my eyes on you.”

You trembled slightly, eyes flickering over Kai’s sculpted features, “so do it.” 

Kai’s eyes flickered back to your face, and he chuckled with delight. “And I bet you’ve wanted that too,” he purred.

“Please Kai,” you begged with impatience. “Just-”

“Just what, babygirl?”

“Just fuck me,” you pleaded, mouth watering at the sight of him.

Kai smirked, looking pleased, “I’ve broken you, haven’t I? Why haven’t you shown me this side of you before?” he asked seriously.

You closed your eyes, “I-Kai…”

“Tell me,” he whispered.

“I’ve been dead for three weeks now, and your somehow the only one who made me feel alive. I didn’t want to let those darkest parts of me feel for you, but I just…can’t,” your voice cracked at the end. “I need you so much, Malachai Parker.”

He looked you over, his eyes softening with adoration. And then, slowly, he gave you what you wanted. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as he entered you, his length stretching you wide open. Kai’s hands moved to your hips as he began to mercilessly slam his hips into you over and over again. You cried out in pleasure, a layer of sweat gathering on your forehead. 

“You’re-so-” Kai panted, “tight for me.”

Just the sight of him and sound of his voice was enough for you to want to go over the edge. Kai dragged out the next thrust, pushing into you at an excruciatingly slow pace, his mouth hanging open as he groaned your name.

“More,” you begged.

Kai moved one of his hands to your clit, rubbing vigorously as he began to quicken his pace again, finding your spot in no time. Your hands flew to his back, nails dragging across his flesh as you bounced harshly beneath him. Your breathing got heavier, body convulsing as your screams hit a high, your words ragged.

“FUCK,” Kai groaned, his head falling forward as he gave a sloppy final push, his come instantly emptying into you and filling you up to the brim. Your juices mixed with his, your body still shaking. Kai moaned and pulled out, diving into you at once to clean up the mess. His tongue gave little kitten licks to your heat, his head burrowed between your open legs. Kai dipped his tongue gently once into your folds before releasing you, his chest heaving. He flipped over onto his back, his arms sliding under your body and pulling you close into his chest. You curled up against him, arm dipping under his protective hold as you listened to the strum of his heartbeat. Kai mindlessly started playing with your hair again, his eyes always on you.

“You probably think I’m weak for giving into you so easily,” you said after a long silence.

Kai’s eyes crinkled sadly at this. “No, (Y/N), you’re strong, and that’s why I admire you. You spent so long avoiding me because if we ever got even a little close, it would mean that somewhere inside of you, a part of you felt something for a monster like me.”

“What does it mean that my weakness is you?” you asked softly.

“I don’t know,” he said. “What does it mean that a ‘psychopath’s’ weakness is you?”

What I Read This Week

(5/3/17)

Oh man, this week was WILD! So many great updates… I don’t know how I’m still alive tbh

Until My Feet Bleed and My Heart Aches by Reiya, Explicit, 197k
Rivals AU where Yuuri’s main goal, ever since he was a child, is to beat Victor and win the GPF. SO MUCH ANGST (like, so much) and deliciously hot, hot, hot! You might die from reading this… it’s that good. It just finished today!

centripetal force by braveten, Explicit, 85k
Victor speaks seven languages. (Physics isn’t one of them.) Luckily, though, he ends up rooming with his antithesis: a shy, black-haired boy who just so happens to be a physics major. This also just finished today, it’s VERY cute!

Eggs, Coffee, Bread, Butter by LittleLostStar, Teen, 2.9k
Yuuri has a small adventure at a grocery store in St. Petersburg and everything is just adorable. Love!

A Marriage of True Minds by Pilomela, Teen, 25k (WIP)
When Viktor happens upon an old uncompleted paper Yuuri had been working on, he realizes just what a genius Yuuri is, and vows to help him not only get in, but graduate with top honors. However, just being Yuuri’s mentor isn’t really what Viktor had in mind. SO GOOD!

Aria: Stammi Vicino, Non Te Ne Andare by exile_wrath, Teen, 31k (WIP)
The tale of a lonely traveler, Victor Nikiforov, and his encounter with an equally lonely immortal man. This is amazing!!!!

Call Everything on the Ice… by shysweetthing, Explicit, 14k (WIP)
Victor learns Japanese while in Hasetsu. He doesn’t tell Yuuri, and things get dicey when he overhears Yuuri and Mari talking about him in Japanese. Repeatedly. I LOVE THIS

Dancing Daffodils by grayclouds, Mature, 14k (WIP)
“As Love gently wipes away the tears that trail down his cheeks something within Victor quakes, its tremors resonating throughout his entire being like a deafening echo. He is in the arms of a god.” aaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAA

I Wanted To Check by insatiablerealist, Gen, 4.2k
Yuuri is an artist, Viktor is a ballet teacher, and they find themselves sharing an apartment in Barcelona. The only problem is they speak two different languages, but despite that, they fall in love. SO CUTE OMG

our doubts are traitors by astoryaboutwar, Explicit, 15k (WIP)
The powered assassins AU in which betrayal comes first, forgiveness second, and love was always somewhere in the equation. AMAZING

Beside the Dancing Sea by lily_winterwood, MapleTreeway, Explicit, 179k
New York Times-bestselling author Viktor Nikiforov arrives in the sleepy seaside town of Torvill Cove to cure his writer’s block. After encountering local wallflower Yuuri Katsuki at a party, he discovers that this mysterious dark-haired man has a couple secrets up his sleeve. This also just finished today!!!! MY HEART

Nerve Endings by Phyona, Explicit, 47k (WIP)
When Yuuri moves in with Victor in St. Petersburg, they have to work through Yuuri’s anxiety and Victor’s secrets to find their balance. Love this fic so much!

(˃̶͈̀_˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾( ノ_ಠ)₍₍ (̨̡ ‾᷄♡‾᷅ )̧̢ ₎₎

Here’s to another week of great fic reading! Be sure to give the authors some love!

The Lost Special: The One Way to Tie Up Every Loose Thread

In the last month this corner of the Sherlock fandom has thrown out a multitude of ideas for a narrative that could potentially resolve every last inconsistency in Sherlock series 4. Not knowing it, this community has debated different readings – all perfectly valid with only minor holes in logic – but have missed how they might all fit together into an intricate puzzle, each reading validating the other.

I have found one way to connect every loose thread.

Topics resolved include:

– EMP Theory vs “TFP as John’s TAB”: why both readings are meant to be exposed to the viewer (but we just found them too early)
– Benedict’s insanely long monologue they mentioned him having in Series 4.
– How another episode would only be comprised of a few new scenes
– Mary’s character development drifting far from her original plotline
– Moffat’s Doctor Who narrative that includes Toby Jones as a Dream Lord and what that means for Amy in “Amy’s Choice” and Sherlock in The Lost Special.
– How POVs intertwine in TFP, and how TPLOSH inspired the way The Lost Special would end.
– The entire bizarre nature of Series 4
– Breaking the 4th Wall
– The focus in The Six Thatchers on “The Duplicate Man”, “Twins”, “Two places at once”, and “Dead AND alive”.
– Three Garridebs
– Benedict claiming “Love conquers all” while Steven Moffat facepalms.

So if you want to know the one way this could all work, check out the rest of this post. But hear me out until the end, suspend your disbelief until you’ve finished, because regardless of whether or not you believe we’re getting The Lost Special, this reading which combines everything we’ve talked about for the last year is definitely arguable and until something else gets proposed, it is the one I’m sticking with til the bitter end.

Keep reading

The signs as Dr Seuss quotes

Aries: “If things start happening, don’t worry, don’t stew, just go right along and you’ll start happening too.” 

Taurus: “I have heard there are troubles of more than one kind. Some come from ahead and some come from behind. But I’ve bought a big bat. I’m all ready you see. Now my troubles are going to have troubles with me!”

Gemini: “Sometimes the questions are complicated and the answers are simple.”

Cancer: “To the world you may be one person; but to one person you may be the world.”

Leo: “Why fit in when you were born to stand out?”

Virgo: “It is fun to have fun but you have to know how.”

Libra: “You know you’re in love when you can’t fall asleep because reality is finally better than your dreams.” 

Scorpio: “Don’t cry because it’s over, smile because it happened.”

Sagittarius: “You have brains in your head. You have feet in your shoes. You can steer yourself any direction you choose. You’re on your own. And you know what you know. And YOU are the one who’ll decide where to go…”

Capricorn: “I’m afraid that sometimes you’ll play lonely games too. Games you can’t win ‘cause you’ll play against you.”

Aquarius: “Fantasy is a necessary ingredient in living, it’s a way of looking at life through the wrong end of a telescope.” 

Pisces: “Adults are just obsolete children and the hell with them.”

All: “Today you are You, that is truer than true. There is no one alive who is Youer than You.”

anonymous asked:

what's the best, most iconic johnlock quote?

Well I will approach this in two ways. ACD Canon quotes and BBC Sherlock quotes.

ACD Canon : 

  • “It may be that you are not yourself luminous, but that you are a conductor of light. Some people without possessing genius have a remarkable power of stimulating it.” 
  • “You have a grand gift for silence, Watson. It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.” 
  • “I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of daily life.” 
  • “You’re not hurt, Watson? For God’s sake, say that you are not hurt!“ It was worth a wound – it was worth many wounds – to know the depth of loyalty and love which lay behind that cold mask. The clear, hard eyes were dimmed for a moment, and the firm lips were shaking. For the one and only time I caught a glimpse of a great heart as well as of a great brain. All my years of humble but single-minded service culminated in that moment of revelation.” 
  • “I have never loved, Watson, but if I did and if the woman I loved had met such an end, I might act even as our lawless lion-hunter has done. Who knows?” – The Devil’s Foot. “By the Lord, it is as well for you. If you had killed Watson, you would not have got out of this room alive. Now, sir, what have you to say for yourself?” – The Three Garridebs.
  • “The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. He was a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become one of them…..I was a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. ”
  • “I am lost without my Boswell.”
  • “…If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city…. ”


BBC Sherlock:

  • “You’ve got a boyfriend then? Which is fine by the way.” “I know it’s fine.”
  • “I am happy to play the fool. For you.”
  • “You, it’s always you John Watson. You keep me right.”
  • “I don’t mind.” “Anytime.”
  • “I’m glad no one saw that.” “What?” “You, ripping my clothes off in a darkened swimming pool. People might talk.”
  • “Take my hand.” “Now people will definitely talk.”
  • “You look sad, when you think he can’t see you.”
  • “I have a date” “that’s what I was suggesting”
  • “It(Sherlock Watson) could work.”
  • “Dinner?” “Starving.”
  • “You are a great boyfriend. Sherlock Holmes is a very lucky man…Don’t make me compete with Sherlock Holmes.”
  • “I’m his doctor.” “And only a fool argues with his doctor”
  • “The stuff you wanted to say but never did. Say it now” “No. I can't”
  • “There’s something I’ve always wanted to say but never have”
  • “You being all mysterious with your–cheekbones. And turning your coat collar up so you look cool.”
  • “I’d be lost without my blogger.”
  • “I was so alone. And I owe you so much.”
  • “But look how you care about John Watson. Your damsel in distress.”


There are many. But I have a tendency to forget quotes when someone asks for it. Feel free to add more.

There are days where I don’t regret the decisions I made, because I know I made those decisions for me, to feel alive and happy again. Then there are those days where I’m crying my eyes out from the guilt and feeling like I did something to deserve this seemingly never ending agony. But at the end of the day, I know I’m the one who has to play the bad guy. I have to. Leaving You made me the villain, but sometimes, I feel like the victim.
—  trixstars 

My only regret with becoming a Johnlock shipper in the ACD Sherlock Holmes/Granada fandom is that I’ve been in it for all of two months and it may have ruined me for almost all other romance. My expectations are just too high now.

Romance is my favorite genre, but it can be so hard to be satisfied when you want your romance to be interesting. Sometimes you just get two characters and the most interesting thing about them is that they’re going to end up together. You see it all the time, especially in mainstream het romance. Sometimes the setup is literally just: “Boy meets girl.” And we’re supposed to stay invested in it. Like, why should I care about these characters as people? Who are they outside their attraction to each other and why should I root for them to be together instead of apart?

And then you get Sherlock Holmes and John Watson. This isn’t boy meets boy.
This is neurotypical, bisexual medical man with postwar scarring and PTSD meets manic-depressive, neurodivergent, gay (and possibly graysexual) genius with a drug addiction. Not only is that one of the most interesting setups for romance I have ever encountered - - and I’m not even including the cases here - - but it is just… the most heartwarming and beautiful thing. Ever.

Because if you order your ACD canon on a bed of Granada, my shallow labels don’t even begin to do these characters justice. They don’t cover Holmes’ playfulness and his heroic heart, or Watson’s boyish laugh and his sometimes embarrassing levels of sincerity. Not to mention the never-ending warmth in their eyes whenever they look at each other. And that’s not even the half of it. Any one quirk of their characters that other stories would reduce them to for the angst or excitement just builds these two into round, whole people, who almost feel alive. And they make each other better.

The hilarious part is that the adventures of Sherlock Holmes aren’t even a romance by definition. They’re mysteries and tales of social intrigue - - and yet, the romance is undoubtedly there, so long as you’re keeping your eyes open for it. In Granada, you’re plopped right into the middle of the love story.  We get both the adventure of the cases and the domesticity of Baker Street. Between the wild disguises and crazy locales and daring chases, we get a warm room, a meal from Mrs. Hudson, and the easy physical intimacy of two people who live together and love each other deeply.

These characters are so multifaceted and their lives are incredible - - and yet, in a way, it’s to be expected. The extraordinary is everyday for Holmes and Watson because every day is extraordinary. Maybe that’s a bit cheesy, but it’s also terribly interesting.

Which is to say, I’m new, I’m hooked, and I don’t know if I’ll ever be quite as satisfied by anything else. Maybe most other love stories just need 130 years to catch up.

thewarlocksbitch  asked:

ur thoughts on if keith or lance would be the first to admit feelings and ask the other out, and where'd they go on a date being in space and all?

every time i wonder about who would admit their feelings first all i can think about is that it would probably go down exactly like that scene in episode 2 of season 1 where lance and keith are edging eachother on into a blind nosedive but they’re so damn stubborn that they both end up smashing headfirst into the ground. let me explain. 

  • lance realizes he has feelings for keith first, as in he can acknowledge the fact that the feelings are there and has a label for them. He’s the kind of guy who won’t want to admit it, but can’t help letting his feelings slip into his actions or words.
    • lance becomes more prone to defend keith to others
    • might try to take on more than he can handle to lessen keith’s burden during missions (however often interpreted by others as jealousy or an attempt to one-up, lance might play along out of embarrassment)
  • keith is always running in headfirst with his blinders up, his emotions are constantly on the forefront of just about everything he does. This means that keith could have feelings for lance without actually sitting down to process what those feelings mean or entail. He’s going to end up unsure how to deal with things like being overly concerned for lance’s safety or getting nervous when lance is in danger, which can get them into fights.
    • “Lance you can’t go in there alone, are you crazy?”
    • “What the hell does that mean? You just volunteered to do the exact same thing! I know you think you’re better then me and all, but I actually can handle this.”
    • “That’s not even what I meant!”
    • “Than what do you mean!”
    • “I don’t know!”
  • What i’m saying is they end up in a stand-still because neither one wants to pull up out of that nosedive first and properly process the situation, which results in them both plummeting into the ground in a blaze of teenage angst and love-borne stupidity. For the sake of consistency, that means the crash-and-burn translates to one big, harsh, emotionally raw fight.
    • Keith nearly gets himself killed doing something ridiculously reckless, probably on Lance’s behalf. Lance is sick with worry, and more importantly: furious.
    • Keith makes it out alive only to be confronted by Lance, who, unable to properly express just how damn worried he was, ends up yelling at Keith for being such a reckless showoff, which immediately puts Keith on the defensive.
      • “What the hell Lance, I only went after those drones so you wouldn’t have to!”
      • “I never asked for that! Stop-stop putting yourself in danger for me! Do you really think so little of me, that I can’t handle any of this by myself?”
      • “I was only trying to help!”
      • “By nearly getting yourself killed?! Are you insane?”
      • “God, why do you even care anyways? Wouldn’t things be better for you if I was gone? At least you wouldn’t have the competition!”
      • “Wh- What the fuck? You think I want you dead?”
      • “You’ve never exactly told me otherwise!”
      • “Thats ridiculous! I can’t– Keith you–”
      • “What is it Lance? Huh? I don’t know what you want from me!”
      • “God dammit Keith, I’m in love with you!”
    • Cue The Shocked Silence™
      • “…What?”

Keep reading

Dark Headcannon

The Immortal Fakes buying a farm and setting it up for a real life Dead by Daylight scenario. Spending time and money to wire up generators that once their required number is met will allow the doors to open, sometimes for those they only want to scare it only takes one, for those they want to punish it could take up to ten. Fog machines and flares set into the ground, the sharp smell of blood and decay from the slaughter house Ryan sets up in the middle with fresh pigs and occasionally a hung corpse. 

Gavin setting up an army of camera’s, night vision, motion sensors, speakers -you name it he has it - so they can observe the fun when someone is let loose with the hostages. Sometimes he plays music other times the watches strapped to their wrists will vibrate when the hunter is near. 

The watches function as instructions for the hostages, it tell them if someone is hooked, how many generators they need, if they’ve opened a door and If the trapdoor is activated.

The trap door is special.

In more ways than one. It is one of only two ways to be spared and there is always one of two people waiting for you at the bottom. Geoff with a sharp smile, a drink in hand he’ll greet you by name and ask “what have we learned?” If you fail to answer he’ll get in close and whisper right in your ear “never cross me again.” Then you wake up at home, wounds treated but forever living in fear of that place, of the Fakes. Sometimes it’s Jack - if Geoff has had his turn on the hunt, she won’t speak but she’ll have a medkit and a look of disappointment. When you wake up to your horror you are back on the farm, this time you have a medkit or a flashlight or maybe lunch and three other confused horrified people beside you because the trapdoor is a trap and you fell for it. 

Sometimes when they’re feeling particularly cruel they’ll send Gavin or Ryan in as a “hostage” make it look like they’ve been there for days. Get them to amp up the fear and die horribly in somebody’s arms, only to be waiting on the other side of an exit with a wicked smile and a gun. Because even if you make it out the exits the only way you get to live is if you played well - if you went back for an innocent or a crew mate. Those that hide and survive until the end don’t get to walk out alive.

Imagine Ryan and Jeremy perfecting their killer persona’s for this place, not Rimmy or the Vagabond but something darker bloodier. Geoff’s out of his mind giggling as he whittles it down to one last terrified person. Michael who loves when they fight back - even more when someone kills him and he gets to come back and sing song “where are you?” Jack’s utter silence and almost tender care when she whispers for them to hush just as she takes them down. Gavin who rarely plays but when he does it’s with a viscous sort of glee and he always, always has Rye or Michael stalking about -not playing but to torment and chase.

Sometimes when someone has given them a particularly good game they post the video online, or play it on the screens of the bank their in the middle of heisting as a tribute or an intimidation tactic.

Very few sent to the farm see daylight once more and those that do live in fear of the thing they witness pulling people into the sky of the screams of the hooked and eerie spider like legs and the whispered voices of those hunting them.

One of my absolute favourite things about New Vegas is the fact you spent a good chunk of the game chasing down the guy who shot you, hearing all these insane stories along the way about how he’s a snake, he’s a cheat, you don’t fuck with him unless you wanna end up dead. He even cheated Mr. House right from under his nose, and that takes BALLS. Everything you hear points towards him being this crazy-cool badass who wouldn’t hesitate to skin you alive just as fast as he’d shoot you.
And then you meet him and find out that he’s basically a walking meme who says shit like “smooth moves like smooth little babies.”

am i dumb or are they dumb

1. why sky ppl even have to fight for the place in the bunker. they like.. FOUND the bunker??? they OPENED IT??? like grounders would just die without them in first place???

2. luna ilian roan and octavia are gonna fight in conclave n only one person is supposed to be alive in the end but like ??? its not gonna happen obv since they wont kill zach and marie’s characters in one ep huh

3. why does clarke wants so badly to save ice nation like … arent they the ones who killed skyppl-kids just because they saw snow and started playing with it

4. how many ppl trikru has. werent they slaughter like… twice. by my man bellamy (bby boy you did good) and by ice nation ???

5. for who does luna fight in conclave… fishes? all her people are dead

6. WHY THE FUCK BLARKE DOESNT HAVE ANY SCENES TOGETHER IM JUST TIRED OF EATING SCRAPS

•A JOURNAL ENTRY: WHAT IS IT REALLY LIKE TO LIVE WITH DEPRESSION?•

i wouldn’t exactly call it living. more like surviving… i look at the environment surrounding me, memories lie tattered in my brain. a life i want to believe was once so full and fruitful has become unthinkably dull. my own eyes were once baby blue but have since faded to an iridescently eerie gray. im hurting. it hurts. im not lying.

i would tell you that you don;t understand- but i;ve begin to notice that everything can only be interpreted in relation to other things or feelings. and this is the only thing ive come to recall feeling. this ethereal delicate coldness within my core, shaking and rattling my bones, consuming my every feeling of functionality. im clearly broken beyond repair- yet i aimlessly crave fixture.

i am light with awful lightness. my blood is mud and my bones are brittle. my thoughts freely cascade within my mind, setting fire to all of my precious sensibilities . any meager ration of purpose and hope is replaced by these fucking reminders that i am truly and entirely 113% alone in this.

at one point, i wanted help. i went to therapy once a week- on bad weeks i went twice. i convinced myself that the glass was half full. i made the most out of everything- and in the process, i made a fool of myself.

i spoke out. i cried for help. i wrote it in books, on forums, i would have carved the words “help me” into my damn skin on my damn forehead if i thought for one minute that anybody was listening.

and i know you’re listening if you’re reading this. but are you really reading this? are you reading me? can you feel the pain in the tips of my fingers, in the ends of my hair, in the blood in my veins, in the staggering cry of my voice at 2 in the morning- an ugly face soaked in the tears resulting from years of utter and complete destruction and then desertion of every little thing i feel?

can you feel my pain?

can you imagine trying to fall asleep when there are actual fucking faceless voices in between your ears jabbering an unimaginably taunting cry? whispering demented nonsense into your ears nonstop after you beg and plead with yourself to quit hearing those damn voices. your mind races like it’s been training all its life and this is the moment it has all led up to: the olympic event of self destruction. and it’s taking home the gold.

i close my eyes and i am so unbelievably tired. staying alive is a fight and today it has beat
me to a pulp. my eyes have bags as big as my regrets and my face is tired from
pretending to light up with joy all day.

jesus christ, it’s my junior year and i’m graduating in less than a year. surely there is one thing to even half way grin about. no, you are wrong. because for every good little thing that happens- every time it seems like it’s getting better, every false sense of hope, for every good thing, there is depression.

my false sense of hope has found its home. depression is a polite host to every single good
feeling in my body. depression feeds me, it cleans me, it loves me, it speaks to me, it knows me.

depression wants to stay forever. it houses in my bones, it feeds on my fears, it gets high on my anxiety, it exchanges hope for hopelessness, it thrives on my insecurities, and depressions favorite thing to do is to keep me up on nights like tonight, where i’m at my worst.

i’m scared, truly. i used to be obsessed with the seasons- more importantly, the transition of one season to anther. perhaps i used to be so fond of change because change was actually a possibility at that point in my life.

winter turning into spring was my favorite. i would lay on the dead, crunchy, brown remnants of the grass, the air around me crisp and cold, stabbing my lungs with every swift,
sharp breath. my nose rosy and cold, sniffling along every chill within my body. bare branches of tall oak trees
stretched into the white winter sky, seemingly reaching for the sunlight the tree craved and needed, as my pale, cold, minuscule hands clutched at the dry, barren earth beneath me- fumbling for more meaning of the world around me. why must seasons change, but my heart always feels the same?

you see, i resonate so very deeply with the winter months. gardens and patches of land that were once beaming with flora and fauna, life and expounding sunlight and warmth, now lay isolated, empty, sterile- similar to the child in me that once was jubilant and lively, but now turned into some thing so cold and ugly. the innocence has beend lost and the happiness within me has since been destroyed by the monster within me, which claims not only me as a victim, but those around me who love and care about me

i only know that i am loved and cared for because i’m continuously and perpetually told this upon a daily basis. it has become very prevalent to me that people feel much better about me when i validate that i know that they are here to talk and that i am loved. yes, i know this. but i cannot feel it. the love that you have for me is, in the least offensive way possible, absolutely irrelevant to my entire being.

you could listen to me rant for days upon weeks, you could read this bible that i’m typing. but i can never seem to make the people around me realize that i am never going to truly accept the love they offer me.

i often wonder if it is true love that inspires people to be there for those with depression- or if those surrounding me simply feel compelled to profess their love and support to me because they see my approval and wellbeing as a direct reflection of their credibility as a friend or family member.

i feel as if i am a burden to those around me, simply harshening the seemingly good mood that literally everyone else but me is capable of partaking in. i want to run with wild horses, frolic among wild flowers, hear the laughter of a child, hold hands with someone i love, and entertain deeply fulfilling and life changing relationships- but you see, the way my life is set up- i am actually emotionally incapable of doing so!

i am most aware of my unfortunate illness and incapability to be happy in the most unexpected and irrational times. take birthday parties, for instance. celebration and good vibes fill the air around me, seeping into my black, pitiful lungs. everyone around me smiles and sings, drowning in their jubilation, as i sit and watch. i want to have fun. please believe me. i want to sing happy birthday. i want to watch you open your gifts. i want to be as happy as you. i want to feel the warmth in my cheeks as i have the time of my life with my friends. but some thing within me compresses each and every slither of joy i am capable of feeling. i am suffocated by the downfall of my emotions and i am blinded by the reminder that depression doesn’t take breaks, not even at birthday parties. depression is strongest whenever you are faced with situations that expose you to the reality that you’re the odd one out- you’re sticking out like a sore thumb. you’re moping and you’re constantly staring out into space. what are you even looking at? what do you have to think about? you have nothing to live for, so anything beyond what’s right in front of you has no relevance in this whole scheme of life. so take it or leave it. you should be enjoying this birthday party. all the other kids are happy. you should be too. you’re lucky you even left the house today. so lucky. had you stayed home, you would have been 100% alone with your thoughts, rather than 97% along with your thoughts, due to the constant interruption of your moping and resentment by peers and parents and teachers asking “is everything okay?”

habitually, you nod. yes. everything is fine. i’m doing well, thank you. but what is the meaning of life? why do i feel like there’s a big fat man sitting on my chest and stomach and heart all the time? why do i always feel like i’m the only one in the room holding back tears trying not to cry? why are the other kids so happy? am i missing out on some thing? why do i feel so sad? why is it that every time i’m surrounded by people who say they love and care for me, i feel as if i’ve never been more alone before in my life? why? do you pity me? it’s just who i am. is that weird?

and oh my god i was always so desperate to be different. perhaps it was just the way my personality was set up. and i was always fairly extroverted. but it was presumably a persona that i put on. hey world, look at me. i’m silly and creative and ill say things that nobody else would say. pay attention to me, look at me.

because i needed them to watch. i hope you never feel so out of control of your body as me, to where you feel as if the only way that you can be saved is if other people figure out that you’re dying on their own. you don’t know how to come straight out and tell them, “hey, i really would rather not be alive at this given moment. i have visions of ending my own life. i use self isolation as a coping mechanism at times in order to feel like less of a burden on those who love me. i haven’t felt genuinely loved in a really long time. i’m so lonely. i could really use a friend right now.”

you can’t just say that. and i became depressed at 9 years old. how would a 9 year old even possibly articulate these complex and life threatening emotions that severely alter the way that every one of their peers perceives them. those middle years are crucial for making friends. it’s at that age that you have to find a group of 3 to 8 people who accept at least half of your given characteristics and occasionally invite you to partake in shit that kids do.

i wouldn’t know. i was a fleeting spirit. appearing and disappearing from cliques like it was clock work. there was more than one willow. there was the catty, witty willow- that found self-approval and approval from others by teasing and belittling others in order to build her own confidence up. then there was the sweet, flower child willow that sold daisy chains on the playground at recess at the price of one hug. there was the willow that stayed near the teachers at times because it was obvious that the other kids wanted nothing to do with her.

and as time progresses, the newer evolution of willow became prevalent. the willow that kept to herself most of the time, spending recess in the class room alone, drawing on the pages of her books, talking to herself, worrying her life away. everyone wondered - what was wrong with willow? or perhaps nobody noticed at all. maybe i was so insignificant even at such a young age- that the only time people considered me was in my dreams.

depression changes a person. some times, the change isn’t even tangible or noticeable to those surrounding the victim. some times, it is a slow discourse of the destruction of the spirit. it can slowly creep into your ear one ungodly night, and forever more whisper its awful lies into the victims ear, as it infects their whole body, their heart, their mind, their spirit, their hands, their eyes. everything. it slowly progresses into the uncontrollable loss of feelings and motivation to even maintain basic proper hygiene. it makes everything feel pointless. things are no longer worth the effort because you’re going to die no matter what, and that can’t come soon enough.

yes, depression can be slow and progressive. but that’s not the worst. the worst depression is the kind that sneaks up on you out of nowhere in the dead of night and immediately stiffens every hair on your body and turns your blood cold, making your mouth dry and your tongue numb. this depression hits you like a fucking train. it hits you in your most vulnerable state- comfort and normalcy. from that point on, you will never know normalcy again.

depression has a way of deceiving you into believing things that are crazy and untrue. but these things become so real to you as the depression progresses into a lifestyle that you come to know nothing else but the lies that depression will fill you with- so nobody can really tell you anything. it will call you names. it will tell you that you’re better off dead. it will be your only comfort- feeling nothing- during the night, whenever anxiety holds you until you pass out from exhaustion. you will never be cold at night as long as anxiety and depression have you snuggled up in between them.

oh how depression loves to kick you around and belittle you. oh how it renders your fantasies pointless. it loves to keep you hostage- to the point where any time you get an idea that doesn’t include moping around in your own sorrow, it immediately renders that idea impossible and reminds you that you are depressions bitch. you eat when depression finishes telling you how fat and disgusting you are. you sleep all day, so depression can take a dip in your nightmares. you wake up, and realize that life with depression is the true nightmare after all.

you pray for the day that you are relieved from this blinding madness and this subliminal torture. you feel as if you are not only a burden to your own self, but a burden to the people who love you and care for you

the only times when depression allows you relief from questioning the ulterior motives of those around you who claim to love you and care for you is when depression instead allows you to feel ashamed of your affliction. when you’re depressed, people notice. they may pretend not to and they may ignore it. but they know. they just don’t know what to say.

what would they say anyways?

hey. i’m sorry your brains are figuratively dripping out of your ears and i’m sorry that you have convinced yourself that i only care about you because i feel guilty, and i’m also sorry that you don’t even have the motivation to take a shower. i’m also sorry that you don’t
remember the last time that someone made you feel special. i’m sorry that you can’t find a reason to smile. i’m sorry that out of all the millionaires, the talented ones, the ones who fall in love, and the ones with nice asses- you were the one to end up hating yourself and everything around you.

ask yourself…. what do you say? what do you say to someone who is depressed?

know that i understand that you don’t know what to say. because yes this sucks. and i don’t expect you to understand what it’s like to wish you were dead. and i am so jealous of you for that. but please treat me the same as everyone else. please love me. make
me laugh. invite me to go shopping with you. get shit faced with me. help me fill the gaping hole in my soul with pointless memories of laughter and small talk. talk about life with me. listen to what i have to say. let me love you.

yes, i have depression. trust me, i will never forget! but please, help me feel normal. i don’t want to feel different than you. i want to be your peer, not your charity case.

i am dying to make friends. i am dying to spend less time in this bed writing shit like this. i am tired of letting this god damn disease walk all over me like i’m a fucking patch of dead grass.

life sucks. but please remind me that winter fades to spring. please remind me that some flowers are seasonal, and not every flower spends its whole life in bloom. remind me that you have to spend time in the dark to understand just how beautiful life in the sunlight is. remind me that there’s no cure for a bad day like a strawberry daiquiri and deep, controversial conversations with complete strangers.

remind me that my car has a sunroof and that it’s okay to open it up and let my hair get a little messy. remind me that music is better when it’s too loud to really interpret what the artist is saying- but you don’t have to understand to feel some thing.

remind me that i don’t have to lose this fight.

i am fucking hurting. but for the love of god, i’m begging you to help me fix me. because i forget that there’s good in the world. i forget that depression isn’t the boss of me. i forget that i have the whole world in my hands. i forget that there’s life after high school and that it’s okay to be alone some times, but it’s never okay to be lonely.

i will never forget what it is like to have my heart ripped out by a disease that i can’t even lay my hands on. perhaps i can touch the blisters under my eyes from
crying so much. perhaps i can run my hands along the holes i’ve punched in the walls from being so angry with myself. and yes i can feel how my bed is sinking in towards the ground because i spend so much time laying here trying to feel some thing besides utter destruction and loneliness. i can never forget what this disease has done to me. there will always be a piece of my heart that this depression has stolen from
me.

but with loving other people, i can aimlessly work to mend that hole. i can’t do it alone. i need a friend. i need you here with me.

i am so tired of being alone.
i will push you away at first. i may come off as helpless and a bitch. but please, that is the depression talking. it’s not willow.

willow loves the color pink
willow loves wild flowers
willow loves the smell of green onions
willow loves the feeling of sand under her feet
willow loves hearing about your childhood and how you had a speech impediment and a cat named angel
willow loves the smell of rain when it hits a hot sidewalk
willow loves to go barefooted
willow loves establishing connections with animals
willow loves willow, some times she just can’t see it

i need a gentle reminder of what it’s like to be a real normal teenage girl

this shit is hard. and being misunderstood makes it harder.

so i’m saying it loud and clear. my name is willow and i have clinical depression and generalized anxiety. my life has been a series of almost laughably awful events, which have resulted in said mental illnesses. i have been misunderstood, bullied, neglected, and hurt. but my story does not end here. i may never completely overcome my depression, but i will overcome my failure to acknowledge my illness. i will work to educate people about those who suffer as i do. i will help those with depression. i will be the friend that i have never had, but always needed, to anyone who wants it. i will be a testament to the depression that has oppressed me for 8 years now.

depression is not who i am. depression does not define me. what defines me is the fact that i am staying alive even though it is proving to be the biggest struggle that i have ever encountered, and i am asking that you help me and people like me. because it’s not a one person job.

my name is willow. and i’m telling you that depression is a rude ass bitch. but i’m a bigger bitch, and unlike my illness, i have the power to make people feel loved and valid. and i will use that power to overcome my depression.

i would like to dedicate this journal entry to everyone reading it. i may go to school with you, you may be just a random tumblr user, you may suffer with depression, you may suffer with some other deeply oppressive situation, you may just be a happy son of a bitch.
it doesn’t matter who you are. let this. journal entry be a testament to your life.

there are people with depression. and there is no way that i can ever explain to you just how it feels via tumblr text post or even via socratic seminar complete with gardens of text books and instructional videos. all i can say is that in this life, you are responsible for being there for the people around you.

you never know what someone is going through. people with depression practically have licenses and 4 year degrees in the field of putting up facades of being okay and sucking it up and repressing those explosive emotions. they don’t expect you to give a shit about them, because as far as they’re concerned, nobody has given a shit,
nobody currently gives a shit, and nobody ever will give a shit about them. they make it hard to help. but it’s so important that you break down those walls. and some times, all you need to do is smile at someone or invite someone to eat after school or to go to a party. you can’t do much for someone with depression. like i said, they’re a whole world away. their concerns and struggles are immaculate, indescribable. however, it doesn’t take much to show someone that you care even a little bit. even if it’s just picking and giving them a random flower.

if you suffer from depression or know anyone with depression and you need someone to look to for advice/help/inspiration, my DM’s are open. oversharing is caring. i know what it’s like to want to take your own life, and i fought the urge to do so even while writing this journal entry.

i am here for you. you are not by yourself. please DM me if you ever need someone to send you pictures of a cute animal to cheer you up, or if you even need me to talk you out of suicide. i know both feelings.

if you’re reading this,
i challenge you to go out of your comfort zone. yes you. i challenge you to do this one easy thing at either work or school, or out in public or in your family

1. pick 3 flowers, they can be store bought or you can have picked them yourself

2. give one flower to someone who you worry might have depression

2. give one flower to a random person who you don’t know

3. give one flower to a person you would like to get to know better, you never know when someone desperately needs a friend


it’s just a flower, but you could save someone’s life. some times, all people need is a gentle reminder that good things still exist and that somebody is thinking about them.

don’t be the person that assumes too high of a role or makes an excuse to not be able to participate in this challenge or share this journal.

you never know when you can save someone’s life.

remember: no matter who you are, i love you. and i am willing to comfort you in times of need. i’ve been where you are. and i know how much ass depression sucks.

my DM’s are open, and so is your future.
don’t end your story this early.

—  Willow Scalisi 4/18/17 (dam i just realized sonic got half priced burgers today, turn up)
Turn Common Conventions on Their Head

Long Lost Siblings

This is a commonly used plot twist in all forms of media. The protagonist who thought they had no one else in the world discovers they have a long lost sibling who they must now go searching for. Here’s some ideas I’ve had about how to give this a fresh new look:

1. It doesn’t have to be that big of a deal. I mean, it would be poor writing for your character not to be shocked about having a sibling unless a proper explanation is given, but they don’t have to actively seek them out. Perhaps they decide that their mission is too dangerous to get them involved, or maybe they don’t feel worthy of knowing their sibling because of their sins (YuYu Hakusho anyone?). Or maybe they do meet and the sibling decides not to come with them, essentially you’re making the statement that blood doesn’t have to thicker than water, that intentionally made bonds are stronger than those your expected to have.

2. They were the lucky one’s. Usually, if one of the children were abandoned, they are the ones to experience the hardships of life, but what if it was the other way around? Imagine your character goes through your story angry at their family for abandoning them, only to discover that their parents were horrible abusers, and in an act to save them their older sibling hid them away so they didn’t have to suffer. 

3. The Prophecy. Picture this: Your character is part of a famous bloodline who passes magical powers to one child every time, and as such their family made a pact to only ever have one child to prevent competition, as if the child was killed the powers would move to the next worthy child. The protagonist was unfortunately a twin and the family decided that one of them had to die. The mother, who married into the family couldn’t stand that fact and so ran away with the child, leaving the other to continue the legacy. 

4. An Unhappy end. I tend to see that stories which use this trope tend to have medieval fantasy settings. Mortality rates during this time were pretty low so even though it is revealed that they have a sibling, it doesn’t necessary mean that they’re still alive. Combine this with the idea above and have one sibling hunting for their twin in order to kill them and obtain the magic powers and you have a story of the corruption of power and how it can even stain something so pure as a love for a sibling.

And there we go! Hope that helps you all. If you have your own trope you want me to look at please fell free to ask me.

  • Psychic: *reads my mind*
  • My mind: whenever I'm alone or if I'm feeling gray, there's one place I can go to brighten up my day it makes me want to sing that's how the show should end but wouldn't it be good if I could sing it with a friend fine whatever I'll join in too I might go outside to feel more alive without twitter where would I be I guess It'd be fit to stop posting sh-RUBBISH but tumblr's a part of me there's so many websites and so little time plus one or two you should avoid just don't stop watching youtube or we'll be unemployed the internet is here the internet is great when you've got lots of followers who need a real mate it might be antisocial but these days that is fine 'cause life is so much better when you spend it all online a place where you can be yourself no matter if you're geeky find friends that share your hobbies even if they're freaky where any question in your head is answered in an instant who care if you procrastinate your one shot at existence the internet is here the internet is great when you've got lots of followers who need a real mate Without the internet we never would have met We wouldn't be here on a stage doing things we might regret dance break who cares if you're a loser and everybody knows it or if you spend your life drawing whiskers on your noses even if your chances of getting tanned are slim or if you like vicariously through the life of a sim sheltay zomo the internet is here the internet is great when you've got lots of followers who need a real mate it might be antisocial but these days that is fine 'cause life is so much better life is so much better life is so much better when you spend it all online
  • Psychic: wow what a bop
IS MONA’S “DEATH” AND CHARLOTTE’S MURDER CONNECTED TO THE “SECRET” MUSIC VIDEO?

I was watching the music video of Secret by The Pierces (PLL’s theme song) and I found some VERY interesting connections between Mona and Charlotte/”A”, as well as Mona’s “death” and Charlotte’s murder.

In the music video, we see Catherine (the BLONDE) and Allison (the BRUNETTE; yes, she has the same name as Ali from PLL but we’re gonna ignore that, considering she has two L’s in her name anyway). They’re the two singers that make up The Pierces. Catherine and Allison are having tea when Catherine says she has to tell her something, but makes Allison swear to never tell. We never see what Catherine tells her, but as many assume, it is that Catherine murdered someone.

The next scene has Allison on the phone talking to someone, and she is revealing Catherine’s secret to them. This is parallel to when Mona called Aria telling her that she has proof that Alison is “A”.

Keep in mind that Catherine is blonde. We see her walking down the hallway heading to Allison’s bedroom, just like how “A” (Charlotte) broke into Mona’s house and headed up the stairs.

Catherine then enters Allison’s bedroom, and Charlotte walks into Mona’s bedroom.

Both victims are then “killed” and dragged around.

What I found intriguing is that Catherine put a blonde wig on Allison, much like Mona’s hair having been dyed blonde in the Dollhouse.

The episode Mona “dies” is 5x12, titled “Taking This One to the Grave”, which is obviously a homage to the song itself. Both victims are seemingly dead.

That’s until Mona was revealed to be alive in 5x25 “Welcome to the Dollhouse”, and Allison comes back alive at the end of the music video. Allison KILLS Catherine in revenge by strangling her.

Who else died by strangulation? CHARLOTTE! She was hit with a rod then strangled from behind, like Catherine was.

IS THIS HINTING TOWARDS CHARLOTTE’S KILLER?

DID MONA KILL CHARLOTTE IN REVENGE?

Thanks for reading and tell me what you think! ^_^

tttickingcrocodile  asked:

The foxes find out that Neil actually killed people while on the run.

Looks like tonight is jut a writing night for me lmao I’m not complaining. 


Even in hindsight Neil could never have seen this coming. He’ll look back on it later and still have trouble untangling the series of events that, over the last few weeks, had led him here. 

First, Riko’s “suicide.” When the news struck Neil was prepared, and he’d only been able to tell Andrew on the roof, torn between relief at Riko being gone and unease at the cold, cruel nature of the execution. 

Which is exactly what it was. An execution. 

He should have expected how fast news spread but it still knocked the wind out of him when Nicky came through the main hallway screeching like a bat out of hell to get all the Foxes to come out. He read the news article with a frantic speed, but his precise enunciation leaving no doubt about his words. Riko, the King, the Number One, had killed himself. 

Kevin’s knees go out from under him and the Foxes seem to collapse in on themselves, folding like wet paper dolls. It seems wrong to celebrate, especially with Kevin making pathetic gasping noises on the floor. But what else are they supposed to do when confronted with the death of the man who, for a year, had made their lives a living hell? Who’d made other Raven’s lives a living hell for longer? For, collectively, more years than he’d been alive?

Next had been Kevin’s consequent breakdown. They joked about Kevin getting alcohol poisoning constantly but it had actually happened and of course Andrew had been the one to find him. He’d been the one to take Kevin to the hospital, tell Neil who on command told everyone else, and the one to drag Kevin back to Fox Tower by the hair to let Wymack verbally flay him alive. And when Andrew had found Coach to be too sympathetic he’d interrupted and delivered his own stripping words that could be summarized as “Get your head out of your ass,” “you will be taking drinking lessons from Renee,” and the ever pleasant, “you have appointments with Betsy booked until you graduate.” By the end of it Kevin looked even worse, but some small spark of life in his eye said some part of him recognized this as Andrew caring. 

Thing began to get messy from there, moving over Kevin’s slippery slope to sobriety, the consequential decrease of over all alcohol consumed, and the subsequent replacement of drinking with other activities. Many things were suggested, most of them shot down by Andrew or Aaron, but the surviving options were (somehow) movie night, non-alcoholic game night, and bowling. Andrew had tried to shoot those down too but Neil had simply said in ever-improving Russian, “We need to do something, we can’t tell him not to drink to save his life and then bore him to death anyway.” Amazingly that had made Andrew let those options stand. 

Watching the Foxes go from throwing a small ball with a raquet to rolling a large ball with their hands is, needless to say, entertaining. He observes them now, of blacklight night, Matt’s teeth glowing faintly in a grin as he pulls ahead on points. Kevin hasn’t gotten over sulking and rolling the ball between his ankles yet, but with Renee cheerful by his side he can’t sneak anywhere to get alcohol. It just makes him sulkier. 

“Damn Neil, all that time on the road and you’re telling me you never once stopped at a bowling alley?” Nicky says, shaking his head and walking up to the front of their lane in his rented shoes. Neil rolls his eyes and shakes his head, leaning farther into Andrew. Andrew’s arm stays loose and heavy over his shoulders. 

“I don’t know why any of you are surprised by anything I say anymore,” he grumbles loudly enough for Nicky and the Foxes to hear him. 

“You know how it was,” he says to them with a shrug. Nicky hoots as he almost gets a strike and comes over to sit as Dan stands to take her turn. 

“I mean I guess,” Nicky pries, “but even though I know it wasn’t all action movie-esque I still picture it that way.” He snorts. 

“Of course the heroes always kill villains along the way in action movies so I guess that isn’t a very good way to think of it either.”

Andrew goes even stiller than normal when he feels Neil tense, and looks at him when he feels Neil purposefully roll his shoulders to calm himself. Kevin, on Andrew’s other side, feels he cushion shift with Andrew and looks at him, then Neil. Kevin doesn’t say anything but Allison’s attention is caught. 

“Don’t tell me you actually ki-” She starts in a harsh whisper and Dan, walking back over, swats her. 

“Allison,” she hisses and Matt gets up to take his turn but is obviously still listening. Neil shifts uncomfortably.

“We are not talking about this here,” Aaron suddenly snaps with a pointed look around, to the family on their right and the birthday party full of young children on their left. Everyone’s mouths snap shut but their eyes blaze with curiosity for the rest of the night. 

They don’t register who won and Neil hasn’t felt this cornered in a long time as they filter into Fox Tower. He’s stopped by a hand on his arm and jumps away from Allison and right into Andrew’s chest. 

“Back off,” he snarls over Neil’s shoulder and Allison scowls. 

“Fuck off monster,” she snaps at him and Neil glares at her, stepping away from Andrew and scowling. 

“Don’t call him that,” he snaps and hands come between them, Dan pushing him and Allison apart. 

“This is not the way to talk to each other,” she says with authority and both Neil and Allison pull farther from each other. 

“Good,” Dan says and turns her head to address Allison, but Neil beats her to it. 

“What do you want?” He says snappishly, tiredly, and Allison grinds her teeth.

 “You said you killed someone-” she starts but Nicky steps in, “he never said anything-”

“It was insinuated through body language,” Allison snaps and looks at Neil. Neil stares her down. 

“So what?” Neil asks, “is that what it’s going to take for you to take back what you all said after Baltimore? For me to not be a Fox anymore? Because it’s true,” he says icily and the word ‘true’ falls to the floor with a crash like a lead weight. 

“We were on the road for years. More than once we were cornered, or came back to hotel rooms or wherever we were sleeping to find my father’s men, and I didn’t have a choice dammit,” he snarls, reaching up to tug at his hair. 

“She made sure I could protect myself, and sometimes I had to, and sometimes people died but-” he says and he doesn’t realize he’s breathing too fast until there’s a hand on the back of his neck bending him over and squeezing. 

“Breathe,” Andrew snap at him and he gulps in air as Andrew pulls him standing straight again. 

“Neil we’re not going to abandon you for doing what you had to do,” Matt says firmly. Renee and Dan nod. 

“We didn’t mean to push,” Nicky says, even though it was Allison who did the pushing. Because of this Neil looks at her and her eyes are unreadable. 

“I’m not going to apologize,” she says, and of course she isn’t, “but I will say this doesn’t change anything. You are a Fox.” Neil nods slowly and the hand on his neck tugs him back to follow Andrew as he leaves and they retreat to the roof. 

“You’re going to tell me what went on those years,” Andrew comments. He’s not saying now, he’s not demanding, it’s a statement it’s a certainty. Neil knows he’ll tell him- 

“Eventually,” Neil admits and almost as a reward Andrew hands him a lit cigarette. 

peachycurtis  asked:

hi could you do a hc for the guys learning to drive? love your blog btw<3

this is going to be a wild ride from start to finish, may be the most accurate thing i write ever

Darry

  • darry is just a naturally good driver 
  • goes into driving confident as FUCK 
  • actually feels like he is cool because of it too 
  • when he first starts driving, he is that guy who will dead leave you in a fucking hail storm if you don’t have gas money 
  • somehow gets better 
  • road rage 

Sodapop 

  • oh my god this kid
  • for a guy who is working at a car shop you still don’t know how to fucking drive 
  • i would actually be scared to be riding with this kid when he is first learning to drive 
  • he tries so hard when he first learns how to drive but then he just gave up and did his own thing 
  • which is not a good idea 
  • 100% sure he hit a mailbox while trying to eat a hamburger and drive 

Ponyboy

  • tries to do literally everything perfect 
  • when darry and soda are in the car with him he will NOT even think about starting the car unless they are all buckled up 
  • barely presses the gas but slams his breaks because he gets scared 
  • probably leaves the car for 10 minutes when darry yells at him 
  • this boy is so stressed 

Steve

  • steve is not a good driver
  • he is better than soda 
  • if you get in a car with steve you’ll probably have 3 panic attacks from all the wild shit he pulls but you will make it out alive 
  • screams if he goes over 70mph 
  • very aggressive driver 

Two-bit

  • i actually think two-bit was nervous when he first learned how to drive
  • two-bit dead was probably one of those kids who were like “um why would i need to drive i don’t go anywhere hahah!11!1!”
  • he ends up going everywhere 
  • pretty good driver 
  • i also feel like he would be an aggressive driver to but he doesn’t pull some extra wild shit 

Johnny

  • johnny has only drove a handful of times and they were all with dally 
  • johnny is actually fucking shaking though because dally is hardly paying attention to the fact that jOHNNY HAS NEVER DROVE BEFORE CMON MAN 
  • he drives like an old man 
  • is the most patient driver ever to exist 
  • likes driving but rarely gets to do it 

Dallas

  • fucking awful
  • never learned how to properly drive 
  • “rules to the road are for PUSSYS”
  • dallas would be that annoying prick who doesn’t use turn signals