still not happy doe

Carol and Daryl are probably the two most tortured characters on the show. Gimple has beat the hell out of them, as he has done with virtually every other character on the show – but the difference is that virtually every other character on the show has found some kind of happiness. So Carol and Daryl are the outcasts, in this situation; they’ve watched love blossom around them, they’ve witnessed their friends and family find a way to be happy… but these two have been deprived of such perks. So to me, it only makes sense for the two saddest characters on the show – the two who have taken the brunt of Gimple’s wrath, the two who have still yet to find happiness even while everyone around them does – to find happiness and love with each other. Really, it would be the only option that makes any sense. 

Because they have the history, they have the bond, the love, and they know each other better than anyone else, and despite the hell that season six was, it showed us how much Carol and Daryl truly need each other. It showed us what an absolute trainwreck they both are when they don’t have each other’s love, and support, and friendship, and understanding.

Gimple has tortured both of them relentlessly and has robbed them of the happiness their friends are finding. And in doing this, he has made it so the two of them together is the only thing that makes sense, and them being with anyone else just feels wrong because they are tethered so tightly now. And come on, it would be a beautiful love story for Gimple’s two favorite punching bags to finally find the happiness they have been denied for so long – with each other.


Mercedes Jones+ sharing her success


He’s back!


You all looked like you needed some Tony and Notepad.

kirishima touka week ✿ day four; au
centipede → butterfly

wwith wwarmest Merry Christmas wwishes, to my homestuck-secret-santa,ย  roseblackblood~

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For an instant she looked up; and then sought to veil her luminous eyes by dropping her forehead on her hands. Again, stepping nearer, he besought her with another tremulous eager call upon her name.


Still lower went the head; more closely hidden was the face, almost resting on the table before her. He came close to her. He knelt by her side, to bring his face to a level with her ear; and whispered-panted out the words:

“Take care. — If you do not speak — I shall claim you as my own in some strange presumptuous way. — Send me away at once, if I must go. — Margaret! — ”

At that third call she turned her face, still covered with her small white hands, towards him, and laid it on his shoulder, hiding it even there; and it was too delicious to feel her soft cheek against his, for him to wish to see either deep blushes or loving eyes. He clasped her close. But they both kept silence. At length she murmured in a broken voice:

“Oh, Mr. Thornton, I am not good enough!”

Not good enough! Don’t mock my own deep feeling of unworthiness.

“I’m almost 19. I love my boyfriend and I just want our life to start already.”