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12 May 2013 @ 05:16 pm

Say my name.Collapse )
Current Mood: contentcontent
13 March 2013 @ 12:45 am

What the hell is a Stiles?Collapse )
Current Mood: amusedamused
10 October 2012 @ 12:09 pm
I have a lot of mixes happening at the same time. But I have no idea what order I should do it in. THUS:

Poll #1871703 Next Fanmix

Which should I post next?

Sherlock: John(/Sherlock) - sequel to "If the Light Takes you In"
Sherlock: Molly EP
Doctor Who: Rose Tyler
Doctor Who: The Master
Doctor Who: Eleven/Rose EP
Being Human: Mitchell EP
BTVS: Drusilla EP
The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo: Mikael/Lisbeth EP

Some of the EPs were part of a fanmix meme on Tumblr from way back when, though I never posted them here. So yeah, help. Help would be appreciated.
26 March 2012 @ 02:46 am
He builds up the dominoes. He takes them down. Piece by piece. These are the small actions that have begun to define him, and he lets them. He can always feel that familiar itch underneath his skin, the hunger, the lust, the thirst which swells to forces he can barely control. And so he builds them up, one after another after another. The dots of the dominoes become something else, a marker of his accomplishments — some kind of ghostly code that tells him he can do this. He can do this. His fingers ache and he tries not to think of what will happen if he knocks them all down, if he relapses into the fury of his kin and lets slip his mask and declares war. But he won't allow it. And so he builds up the dominoes. He takes them down. Piece by piece.

I'll have you know I am a ruthless killerCollapse )
Current Mood: excitedexcited
He knew, of course he knew, that it would have to come to this. But there are things that have also left him unguarded in this long moment, things that nothing could have prepared him for—mostly the feelings, the overwhelming swell of anger and protectiveness and the strange desperation. And then, of course, the resignation. He is not one to think that there is meaning behind any one moment of his life, seeing only the chaotic assembly, but somewhere he knows that if his life were to have any poetry at all, this would not be the final act. It would be the turn, the climax, and as he toes the edge, he can see John's dark shape down below, and feels the resignation turn toward determination. Maybe it doesn't have to be the final act after all.

Before the fall, there was the pause.Collapse )
Current Mood: cheerfulcheerful
02 November 2011 @ 11:16 pm
What he doesn't realize is that you know— and you love him all the same, because his freckles stain him like stars and his skin is rough and smooth at the same time, because his hair blows in the wrong direction when he faces the wind, because he lights up when he sees you though he tries to hide it in the curl of his hands, the twisting of his wrist inside his pocket, the furrow which begins to deepen on his brow. You know now, that you are all he has, and that it feels like a responsibility or an obligation, but it isn't—only now you have the ocean at your feet and it almost feels like freedom. The shore for you has always been some kind of stigma, a tragedy on the fringe of the world, but now it is made of beginnings, a newness and calmness that mirrors your steady hands.

The ship is your idea.Collapse )