wolves at my door


Sixteen heroes.  Four Darkest Dungeons.  Eighty weeks of preparation.  The challenge that lies before them is… Stygian.

I finally finished my hardest challenge run so far: Nuzlocke, or as I like to call it: One of a Kind.  The rules are simple: you’re only allowed one hero of each class (you must recruit the first new one on the stagecoach).  Heroes cannot be dismissed. A single death therefore makes it impossible to complete the challenge.

It took quite a few tries, and most of my sanity. I can only recommend it to anyone else who classifies as “Masochistic”.

(The hero counter has been bugged out since the Wolves at the Door event razed my barracks)


❛ What are you doin’? ❜
❛ Sorry. I just thought with the Captain issue in doubt, I’d throw my name in for consideration, sorry. ❜
❛ Shoot him! ❜
❛ Cut out his tongue! ❜
❛ Shoot him and cut out his tongue, then shoot his tongue! ❜
❛ You will listen to me! ❜
❛ And what the enemy will see, they will see the flash of our cannons, and they will hear the ringing of our swords, and they will know what we can do! ❜
❛ Think you can outrun the world? ❜
❛ Sometimes things come back mate. We’re livin’ proof, you and me. ❜
❛ There’s never a guarantee of comin’ back. ❜
❛ It’s our only hope. ❜
❛ The world used to be a bigger place. ❜
❛ World’s still the same. There’s just less in it. ❜
❛ Dying is the day worth living for. ❜
❛ Will you marry me? ❜
❛ I don’t think now’s the best time! ❜
❛ I love you. I’ve made my choice. What’s yours? ❜
❛ I’m a little busy at the moment! ❜
❛ And that was without even a single drop of rum. ❜
❛ You’ve seen it all, done it all. ❜
❛ That’s the trick isn’t it? To survive? ❜
❛ It’s not just about living forever. The trick is still living with yourself forever. ❜
❛ There’s not been a gatherin’ like this in our lifetime. ❜
❛ I owe them all money. ❜
❛ It’s always belonged to you. Will you keep it safe? ❜
❛ I leave you people alone for just a minute and look what happens, everything’s gone to pot! ❜
❛ Do you take me to be your wife, in sickness and in health, with health being less likely? ❜
❛ Just kiss! ❜
❛ Did no one come to save me just because they missed me? ❜
❛ Four of you have tried to kill me in the past. ❜
❛ Four of you have tried to kill me in the past. One of you succeeded. ❜
❛ You’ll have loads to talk about while you’re here. ❜
❛ Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy it at the time. ❜
❛ Don’t need you, you scare me. ❜
❛ Who are you? ❜
❛ Where does your allegiance lie? ❜
❛ I have a ship. ❜
❛ I have no sympathy for any of you feculent maggots and no more patience to pretend otherwise. ❜
❛ I wash my hands of this weirdness. ❜
❛ We are an unimaginative lot when it comes to naming things. ❜
❛ I once sailed with a geezer lost both his arms and part of his eye. ❜
❛ You’re free. ❜
❛ It’s a heavy price for what’s been done. ❜
❛ Let us not, dear friends, forget our dear friends the cuttlefish. ❜
❛ We must fight. ❜
❛ Send this pestilent, traitorous, cow-hearted, yeasty codpiece to the brig. ❜
❛ I’m losing her. ❜
❛ Mate, if you choose to lock your heart away you’ll lose it for certain. ❜
❛ You may kill me, but you can never insult me. ❜
❛ That’s just maddeningly unhelpful. ❜
❛ Why are these things never clear? ❜
❛ Stab the heart. ❜
❛ Don’t stab the heart. ❜
❛ My sweet, you’ve come for me. ❜
❛ You were expecting me? ❜
❛ It has been torture, trapped in this single form, cut off from the sea. From all that I love. From you. ❜
❛ Ten years, I devoted to the duty you charged me. ❜
❛ And finally, when we could be together again, you weren’t there. Why weren’t you there? ❜
❛ Would you love me if I was anything but what I am? ❜
❛ I do not love you! ❜
❛ Many things you were, but never cruel. ❜
❛ You have corrupted your purpose, and so yourself, and you did hide away what should always have been mine! ❜
❛ I will be free, and when I am, I will give you my heart. ❜
❛ And we will be together always. ❜
❛  If only you had a heart to give. ❜
❛ I will be free, and when I am, I will give you my heart, and we will be together always… but if only you had a heart to give. ❜
❛ Why did you come? ❜
❛ The last thing they will learn in this life is how cruel I can be. ❜
❛ My heart will always belong to you. ❜
❛ Who is this traitor? ❜
❛ Keep telling yourself that, darling. ❜
❛ Do you fear death? ❜
❛ You have no idea. ❜
❛ You’ll see no mercy from me! ❜
❛ I’m a heartless wretch! ❜
❛ You’ve a cruel mind. ❜
❛ Cruel is a matter of perspective. ❜
❛ You’ve always run away from a fight! ❜
❛ You never told me any of this! ❜
❛ It was my burden to bear. ❜
❛ I miss him already. ❜
❛ He was quite charming, wasn’t he? ❜
❛ This is madness. ❜
❛ This is politics. ❜
❛ You can fight, and all of you will die… or you can not fight, in which case only most of you will die. ❜
❛ You murdered my father. ❜
❛ He chose his own fate. ❜
❛ We will fight. And you will die. ❜
❛ Your friends appear to be quite desperate. ❜
❛ You and I are no strangers to betrayal, are we? ❜
❛ Close your eyes and pretend it’s all a bad dream. That’s how I get by. ❜
❛ You may throw my hat if you wish. ❜
❛ You know my name… ❜
❛ He can’t help me. He won’t come. ❜
❛ I know you. ❜
❛ He/she spoke of you. ❜
❛ He/she won’t save me. ❜
❛ He/she won’t pick me. I wouldn’t pick me. ❜
❛ Tell him not to come. Tell him to stay away. ❜
❛ Tell him it’s too late. ❜
❛ You’re in my way, boy/girl. ❜
❛ Are you dead? ❜
❛ Are you dead? I think I am. ❜
❛ You have to be lost to find a place that can’t be found. ❜
❛ You’ve doomed us all! ❜
❛ Don’t be so unkind. ❜
❛ You may not survive to pass this way again, and these be the last friendly words you’ll hear. ❜
❛ I propose an exchange. ❜
❛ You have no right! ❜
❛ I understand the burden you bear, but I fear that cause is lost. ❜
❛ No cause is lost if there is but one fool left to fight for it. ❜
❛ You chose not to tell me. ❜
❛ You thought I loved him/her. ❜
❛ If you make your choices alone, how can I trust you? ❜
❛ What is it you want most? ❜
❛ I cannot be summoned like some mongrel pup! ❜
❛ There is more to you than meets the eye, isn’t there? ❜
❛ Yes, I lied to you. ❜
❛ No, I don’t love you. ❜
❛ Our fates have been entwined, but never joined. ❜
❛ You be the cur that led these wolves to our door? ❜
❛ My actions were my own and to my own purpose. ❜
❛ There has definitely been a breakdown in discipline aboard this vessel. ❜
❛ It’s too late to earn my forgiveness. ❜
❛ I trust you to know your place. ❜
❛ We shall have a magnificent garden party, and you’re not invited! ❜
❛ You add an agreeable sense of the macabre to any delirium. ❜
❛ The only way for a pirate to make a living these days is by betraying other pirates. ❜
❛ Drop your weapons, or I kill the man/woman! ❜
❛ We shall go to war! ❜
❛ There’s an evil on these seas that even the most staunch and bloodthirsty pirates have come to fear. ❜
❛ This is no longer your world. ❜
❛ Him at peace. ❜
❛ Death has a way of reshuffling one’s priorities. ❜
❛ You are free to be with your charming murderess. ❜
❛ What else have you not told me? ❜
❛ She/he could not be trusted. ❜
❛ You loved her/him. She’s/he’s the one, and then you betrayed her/him. ❜
❛ You betrayed her/him. ❜
❛ You loved her/him. ❜
❛ She/he pretended to love me. ❜
❛ I kept it safe for you. ❜
❛ Will you ever forgive me? ❜
❛ The code is the law! ❜
❛ Abandon ship! ❜
❛ It’s like you don’t know me at all, mate. ❜
❛ I had nothing to do with your father’s/NAME death. ❜
❛ That does not absolve me of my other sins. ❜
❛ There’s nothing left. ❜
❛ I’m sure there must be a good reason for our suffering. ❜
❛ And some men offer desire as justification for their crimes. ❜
❛ I offer simply my desire. ❜
❛ Pretty speech from a captor, but words whispered through prison bars lose their charm. ❜
❛ It’s never too late to learn. ❜
❛ A dangerous song to be singing for anyone ignorant of its meaning. ❜
❛ And what makes you think I need protecting? ❜
❛ We’ve come to rescue you. ❜
❛ My freedom was forfeit long ago! ❜
❛ If you want to survive, you need what I offer… ❜
❛ Forgive me. ❜
❛ He made me Captain. ❜
❛ You are not my Captain. ❜

The wasps in my ribcage are stinging again
You can wrap up the wounded but the gash
Tears wider. I thought the taste of
Your name would someday be less bitter.

I want to take back everything I loved
But gave up as a painful reminder.
The songs that feel like a shotgun
Blast straight through my middle.

When does the onslaught end?
When do I emerge as human?
Tired of the wolves at my door
Maybe it’s time to let them in.

tahitiwoke  asked:

I’d love to leave my door unlocked when I leave the house, but this ain’t Canada.


          ( accepting – mutuals / @tahitiwoke )

          “you’re right, it’s not.” nevermind that she certainly doesn’t belong there, especially not when she’s lounging across his sofa like she owns the place. she gives him a grin, still, just on the right side of smug, and folds one arm behind her head to look at him better. “your locks are really easy to get rid of, though. did you know that?”

Heyyyyy this is a little ficlet I’ve been working on, some kinda dark au that came to me while I was taking a bath one night. No pairings in this, just found family. Happy Friday!

It’s dark in the woods, and Stiles is scared. Lights bounce off the trees and kiss at his heels, and there are voices echoing through the trees, calling for him, but he doesn’t dare stop running. He trips over branches and crashes through bushes, and it’s getting harder and harder to catch his breath, his heart hammering in his chest.

“Come on, son!” someone yells, too close. “We’re not going to hurt you!”

Stiles whimpers when a branch slaps his face; he ducks under it and skids down an embankment, mud oozing up over his sneakers. It’s cold out, and dark, and he’s shaking; Dad wouldn’t stop to let him change, barely let him grab a hoodie - he’s still wearing shorts from soccer practice, and now his shins are prickling with goosebumps and red with scratches from the underbrush.

Stiles trips over a rotten stump when he comes up the other side of the embankment and goes careening face first into a tree; it sends stars bursting in his vision, tears burning in his eyes. Don’t cry, Dad had said. Don’t cry.

Stiles slides back against the tree, tugging his hood over his head as he sinks down into the leaves, the voices and crashing footsteps drawing near. He squeezes his eyes shut, tears spilling down his cheeks, and thinks I’m not here. You can’t see me. Go away.

He feels it when the spell takes; everything around him goes dull and echoey and far away, like he’s underwater. The lights in the trees around him blur as if smothered by a sudden heavy fog, and the hunters, when they draw near, waver and shift like ghosts. Stiles buries his face against his knees and thinks go away go away go away. One of the hunters leans against the tree next to him, says, “Where’d the little fucker go?” and for a moment, Stiles forgets to breathe.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you have a sentence? Maybe a happy one? Or a funny one? I've been crying over Jurassic World fanfiction for three hours. - OSA *sniffles*

Here have some Sterek with passing mention of Isaac. 

Three hours later Derek and Isaac stood outside Stiles’ building. It took Stiles back a few years and he couldn’t help but smile as he jogged down to meet them, “It looks like the wolves are at my door, are you guys going to huff and puff and blow the place down?”

beautiful-wallflower-darling  asked:

What good things did marylin do?

Omg where do I even start! 

Here is a list of her charitable works from The Marilyn Encyclopedia:

Marilyn donated time and/or money to:

  • A 1953 benefit for underprivileged children at Jude’s Hospital, Memphis, Tennessee—singing with Jane Russell at the Hollywood Bowl.
  • WAIF—an organization that placed abandoned children in homes, after Jane Russell enlisted Marilyn’s help in 1955.
  • The Arthritis and Rheumatism Foundation in 1955—astride a pink elephant at a benefit given by Mike Todd’s Circus at Madison Square Garden, New York. [x]
  • The Milk Fund For Babies in 1957—Marilyn decided to give earnings from the world premiere of The Prince and the Showgirl to this charity.
  • Marilyn was one of the models in the 1958 March of Dimes fashion parade, that aided children with polio—held at the Waldorf Astoria Hotel in New York. [x]
  • A children’s welfare organization that gave free breakfasts to underprivileged youngsters—a donation of $1000.
  • An orphanage Marilyn visited during her 1962 trip to Mexico—she ripped up her initial check of $1000 and donated $10,000. That night was one of the few nights in her life that she recalled sleeping without the aid of sleeping pills.
  • S.A.N.E.—an organization dedicated to eliminating nuclear weapons.
  • A muscular dystrophy benefit held at Chavez Ravin Dodger Stadium, Los Angeles, on her 36th birthday—This was Marilyn’s last public appearance. [x]
  • Marilyn’s final donation to charity was the biggest. In her last will, she left 25% of her estate (after provisions for her mother and legacies for some friends) to a former psychiatrist, Dr. Marianne Kris, “to be used for the futherance of the work of such psychiatric institutions or groups as she shall elect.” Knowing Marilyn’s enormous love for children, Kris chose the Anna Freud Children’s Clinic of London. This behest has been used to set up the Monroe Young Family Centre, in Daleham Gardens, London.
  • Among friends and colleagues, Marilyn was known for her generosity in helping people wherever she could; stand-in Evelyn Moriarty remembers Marilyn making an anonymous donation of $1000 to a crew member on Let’s Make Love (1960) who needed the money to cover funeral expenses for his wife.

And here are some things I remembered off the top of my head:

  • She also visited an orphanage in New Jersey in 1952. [x]
  • In 1954, during her honeymoon with Joe DiMaggio in Japan, Marilyn visited an army hospital. [x] She also went to Korea to perform for over 100,000 U.S. troops within four days. She wore a tight sequined dress despite the sub zero temperatures because she knew that the men haven’t seen a woman in a while. She regarded this as one of the happiest times in her life and one of the highlights of her career. [x]
  • Also in 1954, Marilyn was a fan of Ella Fitzgerald and called the Mocambo club asking if she could perform there. (The real reason the club wouldn’t hire Ella is because they felt she wasn’t glamorous enough, not because she was African American). Here is what Ella said about it: “I owe Marilyn Monroe a real debt. It was because of her that I played the Mocambo, a very popular nightclub in the ’50s. She personally called the owner of the Mocambo, and told him she wanted me booked immediately, and if he would do it, she would take a front table every night. She told him - and it was true, due to Marilyn’s superstar status - that the press would go wild. The owner said yes, and Marilyn was there, front table, every night. The press went overboard. After that, I never had to play a small jazz club again. She was an unusual woman - a little ahead of her times. And she didn’t know it.”

Here are some stories I have posted in the past:

  • Fan experiences/young people [x] [x] [x] [x]
  • Feelings for animals [x] [x] [x] [x] [x]

Because Marilyn was type-casted, the public often saw her as a dumb blonde which she was the exact opposite of. She had a personal library of 400+ books and attended a semester of literature classes at UCLA. Wanting to break out of the dumb blonde roles, she left Fox (very rebellious!) and created Marilyn Monroe Productions (being one of the first women to create their own production company!) while also attending the Actors Studio and taking private acting lessons with Lee Strasberg. Marilyn was very determined to be a great actress and not settle for the studio’s mistreatment.

I also think it’s important to mention that she was sexually liberated in a time when sex wasn’t really acceptable to talk about openly (or rather, people weren’t comfortable talking about it):

“Look, I’m a woman. Sex is part of nature, and I’m part of nature. I don’t understand all the whispers about the subject. I don’t do anything that’s wrong—I just behave as a female. What’s wrong with that?”

However, while being sexually liberated, she would call out “wolves.” She hated men who were disrespectful to women, thinking they could wine and dine a woman only to use them for sex and those who promised starlets better roles if they slept with them:

“There were times when I’d be with one of my husbands and I’d run into one of these hollywood heels at a party and they’d paw me cheaply in front of everybody as if they were saying, ‘oh, we had her.’ I guess it’s the classic situation of an ex-whore, though I was never a whore in that sense. I was never kept; I always kept myself.”

"Men who tried to buy me with money made me sick. There were plenty of them. The mere fact that I turned down offers ran my price up…I didn’t take their money, and they couldn’t get by my front door, but I kept riding in their limousines and sitting beside them in swanky places. There was always a chance another wolf might spot you.”

“I think I had many problems as the next starlet keeping the Hollywood wolves from my door. These wolves just could not understand me. They would tell me, ‘But Marilyn, you’re not playing the game the way you should. Be smart. You’ll never get anywhere in this business acting the way you do.’ My answer to them would be, ‘The only acting I’ll do is for the camera.’ I was determined, no one was going to use me or my body—even if he could help my career. I’ve never gone out with a man I didn’t want to. No one, not even the studio, could force me to date someone. The one thing I hate more than anything else is being used. I’ve always worked hard for the sake of someday becoming a talented actress. I knew I would make it someday if I only kept at it and worked hard without lowering my principles and pride in myself.”

I might be forgetting some things, so if anyone has anything important to add you can reply below or reblog with your additions!
In Landscape

by Buddy Wakefield

There is a chance
you will show up laughing
made of fortified fan blades and Ferris wheel lights
true of heart and best foot forward
our long-awaited love made easy,
remember for sure no doubt these things:

The joy,
we are a point of complete.
This life,
standing guard over your solitude.
My eyes
are monsters for most things approaching.
I’m probably gonna need a hand with that.
This heart.
This sleeve.
Neither one of them things is all that clean.
But the rain,
my lucky number,
been doin’ her part to make things right

for the light bulbs
and the bruises.
Hiding holy water was not my forte this life.
is French
for blanket fort.
I have trusted my corners to revolving doors
but am fluent in getting better.
We are fluent in bouncing back,
lifting quickly,
learning fast.

Our courage
is a natural habitat.
Ya know we’re gonna build a body to keep the wolves out.
Hold my house
you humble barbarian,
this door only opens for the remarkable now.

So we will both show up remarkable.
Speak your piece from the I can do anything.
Say it clearly.
Follow through

on runways,
in turbulence.
There is a book
living inside your chest
with dilated instructions
on how to make a safe landing.
It was written
for crash landers.
Thank you.
I am coming home to listen.

It is time.

forgive me my distractions.
There’s a freckle on your lip.
It is a national archive.
Give it to my ear
so you can see what I mean.
Here hold my breath
I will be right back.

There are gifts
hidden beneath these lungs.
Slide your hand over my mouth
and I will speak them
in hang glider,
in hilltop,
from the loyalty of a landscape,
silk in a sandpaper offering plate,
the jacket on a handsome man.
That lip
Sweet Grape, you cannibal,
kiss my eyes
until they see what it is that I wish to write down:

Your name.

Film strips of prayer.
Ribbons of a garden in stereo.
Driftwood welded to the guesthouse.
Ringfinger wrapped in a horseshoe nail.
I will meet you by the eighth day dream
in the wide open purpose of a locomotive coming
to a stand still with the sea,
like thumb

on pulse

you watch

what happens

when the air


into suction cups
opening up to breathe,
like the love in my lungs
took the tip of my tongue
and finally taught it how to read,
you five-acre ladder-backed pearl book pouring
from a pileated chest of Earth.
I know our story may look like octopus ink
to the rest of the breath in this world
(flying in under the radar
holding to a pattern of worth).
Come closer you guest of honor.
Chickens stay off the porch

in quiet,
in kindly.
We are the house gift-wrapped in welcome mats.
Your dinner’s on the table in thanks of that
and the loaves of chocolate toast,
the Book of Job and of Jet Propulsion,
raincoats floating in a rocket ship,
playing naked checkers in bed.
It is an utterly epic arrival
every time I get to see you again.

God, this is what I was talking about
for like 37 years,
a true story,
of oceanthroat,
of grace,
the holy goodness glory
I was praying to your face,
My Man,
is what I meant
and this is what I’m meant to do
so sit me down inside us now
and let me praise the greatest good in you
by laying down my weapons
including the shield,
in rest,

on cue, my friend,
you came
your name
well lit,
stenciled on the walls of Fremont County
years before we even met
in landscape,
in scope
and so,
wing tipped,
I wrote it
down to the ground you walk on
with the heels of my helium shoes,
“Put your ear to the sky
and listen my darling,
everything whispers I love you.”

anonymous asked:

i'm sorry to shit on your post about marilyn, you made excellent points to anyone whos ignorance overwhelms them in a case like her's, but she did sleep with producers and writers to get part way to where she ended up mainly because, in her words, 'if you didn't do it, there were a million other girls who would.'

No she didn’t. Where is that quote from? Your source please? I have quotes from her autobiography that disprove this. Not some badly written Daily Mail article.

She admitted the exact opposite. Here’s her talking about an experience with the ‘casting couch’ in her autobiography.

“What do you want me to audition?” I asked.

Mr Sylvester picked up a script from the desk and handed it to me. It was the first movie script I ever held in my hands. 

“Which part do you want me to read?” I asked. I could hardly get the words out of my mouth. I kept thinking. ‘Get hold of yourself, you’re an actress, you musn’t let your face twitch.’

“Try one of the long speeches.” Mr Sylvester said.

I looked up at him surprised. He seemed almost as excited as me. I opened the script and began to read. 

“Would you please raise your dress a few inches.” Mr Sylvester interrupted. I lifted the hem above my knee and kept on reading.

“ A little higher please,” said Mr Sylvester.

I lifted the hem to my thighs without missing a word of speech.

“I will always love you,” I read in the throbbing voice I used for ‘Hail To Thee, Blithe Spirit’, “no matter what becomes of me, Alfred.”

“A little higher,” Mr Sylvester said again.

I thought that Mr Sylvester was probably in a hurry and wanted to audition my figure and emotional talents at the same time. Still reciting from the script, I pulled my dress up and uncovered my thighs. And suddenly Mr Sylvester was on the couch. For a moment I was too sick at heart to move. I saw Mr Sylvester plain

The whole thing was a fake. He didn’t work for Goldwyn. It wasn’t his office. He had pulled the audition gag to get me alone on a couch. I sat with my dress up and the treasured script in my hand while Mr Sylvester started pawing me. Then I moved. I socked him in the eye, jumped up, kicked him, and banged my heel down on his toes - and ran out of the building.


From “Marilyn: her life in her own words” by George Barris

I think I had many problems as the next starlet keeping the Hollywood wolves from my door. These wolves just could not understand me. They would tell me, ‘But Marilyn, you’re not playing the game the way you should. Be smart. You’ll never get anywhere in this business acting the way you do.’ My answer to them would be, ‘The only acting I’ll do is for the camera.’ I was determined, no one was going to use me or my body—even if he could help my career. I’ve never gone out with a man I didn’t want to. No one, not even the studio, could force me to date someone. The one thing I hate more than anything else is being used. I’ve always worked hard for the sake of someday becoming a talented actress. I knew I would make it someday if I only kept at it and worked hard without lowering my principles and pride in myself.”


Here’s a quote from Maurice Zolotow’s biography on Marilyn which was written when she was alive.

“Marilyn has never co-operated in studio-managed romances. She almost never went out with a man who she didn’t want to go out with. She would not exchange sexual compliance for a line in Hedda Hopper or Louella Parsons or a story in Photoplay Magazine. And she never submitted to sexual advances even if they could help her career. I’ve been told this many times, often by persons who had tried to seduce her in bygone years, men, often who were in a position to put her in good parts if she went on a weekend with them to Palm Springs, Tia Juna, or Las Vegas. The conclusion of these men is summed up in this statement by a producer, “Marilyn never slept with a man who could do her any good.

Wolves At My Door
Wolves At My Door

i’ve searched with pen and paper
i search to show you
just how far i broke from myself
in the name of fear and doubt
in a better world there would be a better me
without the chase that won’t leave me be
wolves at my door keep all your wars
i’m going home to bed
i’ve paid more death then you will ever live