street of no return


Famed Japanese artist, Yayoi Kusama, who for almost 90 years has expressed her preoccupation with polka dots via art and art installations, which explore pattern, prints and perspective.

Since 1977, Kusama has voluntarily lived in a mental hospital, feeling it offers her safe haven. Her art studio is across the street, and she returns to the hospital each evening.

“If it were not for art, I would have killed myself a long time ago.”


I can build a million castles-
I can wish upon all the lucky stars
Nothing compares to my life with you.

[Sam’s version] [Sam and Dean’s version]



Protests against Donald Trump carry into their fifth day nationwide

Protests against the election of Donald Trump to the presidency continue into their fifth day. On Sunday, demonstrators returned to the streets of major cities and small towns across the country, voicing their discontent with the president-elect and rejecting him as their leader. One eye-opening tweet shows the disturbing turn the protests have taken in Oregon.

The United States Of Horror Movies

Ok but imagine a scenario in which John refuses to take Mycroft’s call (the one nurse cornish answered) and John really left for good
And the one who broke in before culverton suffocated Sherlock was Lestrade instead
And all that’s left of John was his cane
And so yeah Sherlock still managed to catch culverton, coz the cane and recording device is there
But he didn’t manage to “save John” and Sherlock eventually returns to baker street alone again
Then he continues with the drugs
Tried to contact John, calls him, sends him texts. But after a while his calls no longer came through because John must’ve blocked his number
After a few weeks, it all just seems so pointless
“Your life is not your own…keep your hands off it” but this only applies if there will be people who gets left behind. But in his case, will there be anyone who gets left behind by his death? No. Not John. So Sherlock took a deliberate overdose to end his life 


BTS Reaction to Their Bestfriend Accidently Confessing to Them; V Version

Originally posted by kths

The sky was blue, the wind was blowing softly and the flowers were beginning to bud again. The cold of winter had just thawed away and as you stared out your window at the perfect day outside, you knew that you had to paint. But not just any painting, oh no, you’d commemorate the return of spring by creating some street art.

You were well-known in your small town for the art you sketched, drew, and painted across every flat surface you could find; from the sides of buildings to the empty concrete plazas, to the walls of local family restaurants that asked for commissions to add a unique pop to their décor. The world was your canvas, and you were lucky enough to be in a small enough town that encouraged your creative bursts of energy. So, with a vision in mind, you gathered up your paints and  brushes, placing them in the front basket of your trusty bike. The once shining red paint was beginning to rust and chip, and the white tires were gray with soot and dirt, but the chains were well-known and familiar and you trusted them to support you. Besides, in such a small town, cars were unneeded. How could you buy a car when you were saving every penny to move to the big city to go to a real art school?

You peddled into town, the wind whipping past your face as you waved to the elders that called your name in greeting. You came to a stop when you reached the town park, unloading your weapons of creativity as you plopped yourself down in the center of the concrete plaza that surrounded the sitting area where the parents watched their children play.

Biting your lip, you squirted out the paint onto your palate; blending and swirling the colors until you got the shade you wanted, pulling out a brush to dip into the paint to start your creation. The tips of the brushes stroked against the smooth ground that was worn out from the many footsteps that it captured, showing the world what you saw in your mind.

You painted your muse; the inspirational cocaine that made your mind whirl. You painted them where they belonged; amongst the stars. You worked for hours, creating galaxies, planets, and stars with bright colors. And your muse was in the painting, reaching out with his fingertips almost gripping the closet star; his eyes crying a rainbow of colors with a smile on his face. The face of hardship that had finally achieved success. After all, if anyone deserved to achieve greatness, it would be your muse; Taehyung.

You’ve been friends for ages; in such a small town how could you not? He too, aspired to move into the city. He dreamt of singing all his life, performing on stage and shinning under the spotlights of life. So, you two made a pact; you’d both leave together when you both had enough money. Both of you never to look back onto your small town so you both could chase your dreams; together.

You smiled as you finished up the details, absentmindedly drawing neon pink hearts around the outline of your muse. Yeah, you fell and you fell hard. But how could you not with a guy like Tae? He was understanding, kind, and he made you smile and feel like the most important thing in the artistic world.

“It’s very beautiful.” an old, gravelly voice said behind you. Figuring it was one of the ajusshis that frequented the park to feed the birds, you chuckled and thanked him whole heartedly, never bothering to turn around as you continued to draw tiny hearts.

“Who’s this boy in the painting? Is he your boyfriend?” the old man asked.

“I wish he was, mister. He’s my muse, the one who spurs on my creativity. He’s so beautiful, inside and out, how could I not capture that beauty and show it to the world?” you don’t know why you just told this random old man about your feelings for Taehyung, but it all just came pouring out before you could stop yourself.

“Turn around child.” the man ordered, so you did and your mouth dropped.

There stood Taehyung, his signature boxy grin spreading across his face as he watched your blush rise up your cheeks. He knelt down in front of you, giggling as he brought his fingers up to your eyes, wiping away the tears that started to flow from your eyes.

“Why are you crying my child?” he teased in the fake voice he was using just a few moments ago. You hit his arm. Hard.

“That’s not funny Tae!” you half-yelled, letting him continue to wipe away your tears of embarrassment and fear of losing him.

“Hey, Y/N, calm down,” he cooed to you. “Don’t you know that you’re my muse too?”

“T-Tae?” he smiled and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“It’s always been you, ever since we agreed to run away together. C'mon, let’s get up, sit properly, and talk about us, okay? You just went through every human emotion possible in like, two minutes.” he smiled, guiding you up and wrapping an arm around your shoulders as he guided you towards your new future; together.

Guess Who?; Sherlock X Reader

Requested by Anon

You sat in your chair in the living room at 221B Baker Street, waiting for John and Sherlock to return home from John’s stag party. You were curled up reading one of your favorite books when you heard a taxi pull up outside. You looked out the window and saw two highly intoxicated men making their way inside. You returned to your book, figuring they could manage by themselves. They were two grown men after all. 

Suddenly you heard your boys collapse on the stairs. You sighed and put your book down. You walked down the stairs and saw them sitting on the stairs, leaning on each other for support. “Alright boys,” you sighed as you moved to help them into the flat.

You grabbed the smaller man and dragged him up the stairs and onto the couch before going back down to grab Sherlock.

“Oh hi, Y/N,” Sherlock said.

“Yeah, hi Sherlock,” you replied, looking over the consulting detective.

“What are you doing here? This is a stag party,” he pointed out.

“Do you realize where you are?”

Sherlock took a moment to look around before registering his location. “It seems we’ve found our way home.”

“Yeah… Let’s get you upstairs,” you told him and you helped him upstairs and plopped him next to John. “How are you two feeling? Should I get you anything?”

The two men looked at each other before breaking out into a giggle fit. “What’s so funny?” you asked them.

They looked at each other again before John responded. “You are Y/N, being all mother-like. If I wasn’t getting married,” he said before getting up and wobbly walking back to his old room.

You were slightly taken aback by what he said but glanced at Sherlock who had broken into another giggle fit. “I never thought I would see Sherlock Holmes laugh so much. Why don’t you go to bed Sherlock?”

Sherlock looked at you confused and then glimpsed at his watch. “I’ve been out for two hours. It’s only 9:30,” he complained.

You sighed again and gave up. “Well then, what do you want to do?”

“Am I a vegetable?” Sherlock asked.

“Nope,” you told him. “Am I a person?” Sherlock leaned in and squinted his eyes to see what was written on your forehead.

“Yes,” he answered. Sherlock had suggested playing a game similar to Guess Who. You had chosen to write Paul McCartney for Sherlock, realizing he’s probably never heard of him before. “Am I a walrus?”

You chuckled at his guess before telling him no. “Am I girl?”

“Yes, you’re one of the only girls I know.”

“So you know me?” you questioned.

“Why of course I know you,” he retorted, happy with his sarcastic remark.

“No Sherlock. Do you know the person who you wrote down?”

Sherlock sighed and sat back in his chair. “Yes, but it’s my turn now. Am I a person?”

“Yes. So I’m a girl who you know. That actually narrows it down a lot. Am I Mary?” you asked.

“Nope,” he said. “Am I tall person?”

“I have no idea. Sherlock you don’t know that many women who don’t think you’re an arse.”

“Fine,” he said as he rolled his eyes. “You’re a pretty girl. One who I like very much. I often turn to you whenever I need someone because you’ve always been there for me. In fact most recently, I’ve been thinking and I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m in love with you.”

You were slightly taken back by this declaration. He couldn’t be talking about you, could he? “Am I Molly?” you asked uneasily.

Sherlock let out a big sigh. “No, why would you be Molly? You’re Y/N Y/F/N, and I’m in love with you,” he said matter-of-factly.

You took the paper off of your head and read your name. “Sherlock-“ you tried to say but the man cut you off.

“I think I’ll be heading to bed now, Y/N. We can talk about this in the morning,” he said before stalking off. Sherlock kept walking but turned to look at you. “You can join me if you’d like-“ he told you but missed walking down the hallway and just hit his head on the door.

You started laughing as Sherlock walked back down the hallway trying to play it off. God, this man loved you… and you loved him too.

Nothin' Like Me

Pairing: Jungkook X Reader

Genre: BAD BOY AU, angst, action, slight humour, fluff, light smut (well honestly idk it kinda escalates?)  minor swearing (oh yeah curse words r gonna fly around in the intro) /  Jungkook ‘reunion’ scenario + regaining memories au

Word Count: 7892K  || inspired/not requested || drabble/oneshot

Keywords: Street fight , His loft , Front door.

Summary: You return home to Seoul from travelling the world to find yourself but you only discover the male leaning on his motorcycle was the one you should’ve gave all of your love to, not the countries you’ve been. And it follows with a ring, this adds to the situation and it wasn’t a pleasant one.

Self Note: Someone save me like nowadays I’m reblogging more Jungkook stuff oH MY GOD HE’S SUCH A BIAS WRECKER UgH (especially in that gif like OH MAN). This took FOREVER TO WRITE omGgG, it has a legit storyline &  this is my first ever badboy! Jungkook version. Your welcome to send me feedback, it would be greatly appreciated! Enjoy reading♡♡;D & HAPPY NEW YEAR! xxx

“What are you waiting for? An invitation?” The unkept male sneers, rolling up his sleeves as he gritted his teeth as he came around the hood of his broken down car, wanting to start a fight with the other male leaning on his motorcycle as they were both opposite the entrance of the airport. Charcoal colour coated the other male’s marble body, silk black leather jacket, trailing down towards his ripped jeans, earrings were silver singular small loops and onyx gemstone hair making his ice cutting orbs remain hard fixed towards the middle aged man asking the question mockingly, ripping away patience and tranquility at that split second.

Keep reading
Meet Greg Gould: The Australian singer making a statement about LGBT abuse, suicide and gay marriage
Gould's cover of Don't Let Go by En Vogue is based on true stories of LGBT discrimination.

TW for gay bashing, suicide, street harassment

“Greg Gould’s short but poignant film is difficult to watch, to say the least. To the soundtrack of his cover of Don’t Let Go by En Vogue, the video tells stories of abuse and discrimination faced by the LGBT community, from street harassment to violence and rejection by families.

In one scene, a drag queen is brutally attacked in the street by thugs. In another, a man returns home to find his partner has tried to commit suicide - a horrifying scenario that could become increasingly common if we fail to universally legalise same-sex marriage, according to a recent study. Although the man survives, his partner is forced away from his bedside and out of his hospital room - simply because they are gay.

“The video came first and then I found the song,” Gould tells IBTimes UK. “So many people are affected by the issues addressed in this video, including myself. I believe that’s why it has resonated so much - if it hasn’t affected you, chances are it affected someone in your family or friends.”

“People need to think: discrimination could, and does, put people’s lives in danger.”

Read the full piece here

“Don’t Let Go” by Greg Gould