thoughts that nobody cares about

I sit here and think about my fave childhood show “Gargoyles” once in a while and this is has always bothered me:

In Hunter’s Moon, Demona had plotted to eradicate the entire human race with a magical virus and claimed that she and all Gargoyle-kind would have been protected by her praying Gargoyle statue. But she STILL technically would have died because the stipulations of her contract with Macbeth was that the only way either could die was if one directly killed the other. But by releasing the plague that would have killed all humans INCLUDING Macbeth she would have technically been the direct cause of his death which would have caused her to suffer the same fate.

Which is a beautiful Shakespearian irony that still amuses me to this day and SO in keeping with the show that I have always wondered if it was intentional on Greg Weisman’s part or not.

Originally posted by feraliqatr

P.S. What about the fact that she also turns into a human by day? If her Bond with macbeth wouldn’t kill her then the virus might have gotten her while she was all human (or at least made her extremely sick to the point of almost death every single day).

I’m so fucking done.                                                                                            I’m so done with life. I don’t get why I’m like this. I fucking hate it. I can’t control my thoughts. I can’t explain how I feel. I just can’t stand to live like this. I am constantly fighting with myself. Nobody fucking cares about me. I thought I was good enough, but I guess not.

astraica  asked:

Could you do a smol Yori and Tron dancing? :D

hell yeah i can and with great pleasure! thank you so much for making my day with this prompt!!

Jerome’s Greatest Possession

Originally posted by veromejaleska

Summary -  Can you do an imagine with Jerome where he’s back and the reader reunites with him? Thanks!

Pairing - Jerome X Female Reader 

WordCount -  1,430

Requested by-  Anon

Warnings - Strong Language, Angst, sexual references


You strolled through the streets in no haste to get home. What was the point? You weren’t living you were existing. His death had destroyed. Was your relationship one that would be featured in story books, movies or those real life magazines that everyone seemed to buy, no. But your relationship with him had been your version of perfection. You didn’t need breakfast in bed with bouquets of flowers, you definitely didn’t need a perfect relationship. When you were with him, it was thrilling and dangerous. From the beginning, you knew what you were getting yourself into and you loved it. You had never loved anyone the way you loved him because there was no one else for you. He had the key to your heart and even in death, he had a vice grip on it, refusing to let go. He had been your everything. He was your everything. Which is what made living without so damn hard.  

Walking into your apartment you, you took off your coat that had been wearing to kept you warm, you threw it onto the hallway table along with your keys. Ever since he had died your routine was the same, the same old boring routine. When he was alive your routine had never been boring. Everything was filled with excitement and mystery. But now there was nothing. Nothing. An emptiness that only one person could fill. That person was no longer alive. His heart didn’t beat. His eyes never fluttered open every morning. His body would no longer be warm to touch. He was dead. Gone. No-body thought about him. Nobody cared that someone out cares for him. Loved him. He was murdered in cold blood. He was lied too and Manipulated. But did anyone try to bring the Monster who tried to killed him to justice? No! You were never going to be happy again filled with emptiness. You didn’t live, you were merely existing in a world of pawns and little by little you were being to solidify as another pawn.

Once upon a time, in another life you had been free. You were strong and powerful, your life was an adrenaline rush for of twists and turns and suspense. You were loved. His love had always been so passionate, wild, intoxicating. No one had ever made you feel the way he had. No-one had ever touched you the way he had. While you weren’t typically found of stereotypes or clichés. He had been your soulmate. You soul and entire being had died with him.

Him. The mere thought of his name brought agonising pain to your mind.

Drifting into the kitchen, you filled the kettle at the sink before putting onto his base and pressing down the switch. Today had been mentally exhausting, every spare moment you got your mind tormented you with thoughts and memories of him. You shoulders hunched as gripped onto the counter with both of your hands. Feeling a warm arm cascade around your stomach should have caused some sort of instant reaction another arm repeating the same moments should have certainly caused a reaction. But they felt like his arms. If a hallucination was the only relief you were going to get out of today, then you were going to have to take it. Your eyes fluttered shut, the warmth, the relief. You weren’t alone. For the first time in a very long time, you felt free and safe. Then you felt someone’s head bury itself into your neck it felt…damp. The exposure to the new texture snapped you out of the hallucination. Launching your elbow backwards into the unknown impostures stomach you, you’re expertly moved to grab one of the knives out of the holder, launching to attack the imposture your arm was grabbed almost as if the attacker expected you to do it.

“Easy there gorgeous, surely you don’t wanna hurt me. I’ll give you credit, your aim has gotten better dollface.” That voice gave you Goosebumps, the hairs on your arms stood up. There was only one person that could do that to you. That was impossible. He died. You watched Theo Galavan stab him in the neck, the blog pouring out. You witnessed his life disappear from his body. 

“Don’t you dare pretend to be him!” You screamed lounging at the imposter, pinning them to the ground, their hands now securely over their head. 

“Doll, I’m not an impostor. I’m the real deal. I know it’s difficult since I’ve got no face. Somebody thought they’d cut my face off and try and use it as their own, you know when you’re as gorgeous as I am who wouldn’t want to steal my face.” You were not falling for this imposter’s pathetic attempt at intimidation of him. Leaning over you grabbed hold of the knife pinning it to his throat. 

“Do you really think I’m that stupid? I watched him die! I watched him take his last breaths! I watched my life get destroyed right in front of me! For what?! Some sick lunatics power hungry desires! He was never part of Galvan’s plan! But he was a part of mine! So don’t you dare try and be him! You will never be him do you understand me!” The impostor licked his lips a few times, not remotely bothered that you held a knife to their throat. 

“Well, this is going to take a little more convincing than first planned. Well here goes nothing. We’re going to talk about you holding a knife to my throat later.” The impostor knocked the knife out of your hand once again with relative ease, putting you on the counter, gripping hold of your thighs tightly so you couldn’t escape. 

“I’d brace myself if I were you because right now I’m not a pretty sight.” The impostor removed one arm from your thighs as they began unravelling the bandages off of their face. At least, they weren’t lying about that. The site was horrible, their face was bloody and sore looking, your stomach twisted badly, you had turn away. 

“Doll face I need ya to look at me. Really look at me.” Swallowing deeply, you turned your head to look to the man’s destroyed face. You studied their features, their features. Their lips looked extremely familiar, so familiar you begin to rest out to put your hand on their face. Running your fingertips against the impostors bottom lips you jolted when the impostor bit down on your fingers gently. Your eyes made your face up into the impostor’s face until you reached his eyes. A beautiful blue, your mind flashed back to that day momentarily his eyes losing the light that made them glow so perfectly. But he died. Running your hand over his face before sliding it down towards, before running your hand through the ginger hair, staring intently into those blue eyes. 

“Doll you have no idea how good that feels. Remember that time at the circus we stole an old mattress and a few sheets and made ourselves a tent. We spent the entire night curled up together. That was the first time you ever ran your hands through my hair.” Your heart broke, only he would know that. It was really him. But how? 

“Jerome.” Jerome stepped forward wrapped his arms around you tightly. He buried his head into your neck as deep as he could, you returned the action doing the same to him holding onto the base of his neck. You didn’t break down with emotion, you just held him tightly as you could. It was a miracle. 

“How is this even possible?” You questioned as you pulled away from him reluctantly. 

“Anything is possible with magic…Somebody brought me back to life whoever he is the one’s stolen my face and while I want to do nothing more than to take you into your bedroom…so we can get to know each other again. I would much prefer it if I had my face so you can do that thing with your mouth.” Jerome pulled back looking at you, you rolled your eyes at his comment. 

“Well if your so insistent that you need your face to make love to me.  Let’s go and see this man about your face. Afterwards, I’m taking you away from your minions for several days because we’ve got a year of making up to do.” You jumped down from the counter. 

“Yippe! Come on we’ve gotta hurry. I don’t think I’m going to be able to wait too long to reclaim my greatest possession…