I Had To Add These.

Blond people

The first time that England hated blond people was also the first time that he hated himself. He was running, trying to catch his brothers and he wondered "is this the meaning of family?" "helplessly trying to be loved?". He got his answer hours later when they try to drown him for the first time. That is when he saw it. His reflection on the river. He saw his green eyes, his pale skin and his blond hair. He saw everything that he wasn't and everything that he should be. And then he hated himself. And then he blamed himself. He blamed on himself that his brothers didn't love him, he blamed on himself that he could never have a family, he blamed on himself that his mother always looked at him pity. And then he hated his brothers. And then hated what it meant to live.

The actual aftermath of Round 6, btw..

catharsis

Will is a little nervous, coming in this room. Again. It’s always a different mix of emotions, but some key ingredients are the same: thrill, anticipation, sadness. This time the cocktail is a true masterpiece: thrill, anticipation, conviction, confidence, only a drop of sadness. The only really new ingredient in all of this is fear, and it kind of ties it all together, adds the needed spice to the mix. Will lingers for a bit, analyzing the taste of the imaginary cocktail. There’s something else. Just… a dash of uncertainty. It’s not about the act, but it’s in the air, ruining his experience. What a shame.

“Will. What are you doing?”

Phil’s voice sounds so, so familiar. Maybe decades ago he said this exact phrase in this exact tone, when Will was stealing something from the kitchen. Weird how some things don’t change. 

Will is glad to hear his voice. It means that it all goes according to plan. It means that he won’t leave this room. The uncertainty is gone. 

Will is deafened by the sound of the explosion, his breath is heavy and uneven, partially because of excitement, partially because the air is filled with dust, but right there, right then, he has a moment of absolute clarity. It all makes sense to him, all of his questions have answers, he comes up with a name for his cocktail — “catharsis”. It has a wonderful sweet aftertaste of satisfaction. 

There’s only one more thing to do. Will has done it a thousand times before, especially when Phil would catch him doing something he “shouldn’t be doing”. Ask nicely. Phil is surprisingly bad at saying “no”.

Weird how some things don’t change.

bleach au where the human teens are millennials

ulquiorra: if this eye cannot see a thing, then it does not exist orihime: my dude just for got about gravity smh

aizen: i am perfectly capable of reaching your heart at any moment ichigo: pics or it didn’t happen

mayuri: killing you now will be as easy as strangling a baby ishida: op strangles babies but go off i guess

ichigo: i will yeet you into the fucking sun hollow ichigo: i’m a bad bitch you can’t kill me! zangetsu, sobbing: what the fuck is going on

yoruichi, urahara, gin, and shinji are the only ones who understand what the fuck any of them are saying

🕝🕘🕧

Just seen your post about what Holmes saw in Watson, but what did Watson see in Holmes?

I mean, Watson himself has more than a bit to say on the subject. But I would say:

Watson was depressed and anxious and lonely. Holmes is enthusiastic, he’s eager, he’s brilliant, he’s unselfconscious; he talks to Watson the way you talk to a friend from the moment he sees him. He’s a mess. He forgets to eat. He needs picking up after. He makes Watson feel better about his own messy existence.

He’s passionate and principled and anarchic and endlessly unexpected. He is mysteries within mysteries. He’s BEAUTIFUL.

He notices Watson; respects Watson. He wants him around. He teases him and praises him. He pays attention to him, plays for him when he’s weary, takes him out, tucks him up, walks with him, begs for his company in everything.

He looks after Watson, grounds him. He talks about him constantly as “my boy, my dear doctor, my Watson,” and someone who calls you “mine” is a revelation to someone as alone in the world as John Watson.

He is chaotic. He undermines the prevailing opinion of society by not giving a damn about it. He pursues what fascinates him, fights for what matters to him, and thumbs his nose at anyone who expects his respect for their position alone. He looks at everything upside down and sideways. He makes the world seem less bound to be the way it is. He gives Watson a new life that’s less about solid career choices and more about magic, at a time when the world had started to seem terribly, crushingly unmagical.

He trusts Watson. He believes in Watson in all the ways he needs most to be believed in: that he is a good man, a decent man, a brave and a capable one, a good doctor and a friend. He believes in other things, things that Watson might have lost sight of somewhere in Afghanistan–justice, kindness, mercy, an underlying love evident in the loveliness of the world. People looking out for people just because they can.

He’s tenderhearted; he blushes and tears up when he’s praised, asks forgiveness when he fails, starts to shake when Watson’s wounded. He gets depressed, and lonely, and admits it; he tells Watson when he needs him.

He makes beautiful things; music and truth. And he loves, could love, no one else in the world as he loves John Watson.

"I am the world's worst man. I have killed, kidnapped and tortured millions only for money and power. I have looked to the world's misery in the face and I have taken all that they had left and yet here you are with a smile in your face and your eyes, calling me kind, polite, sweet and noble, showing me love even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much pain it causes me? That you love me even when there are a hundred reasons of why you shouldn't, that you kiss me and smile to me even when I don't deserve it. Do you know how much it makes me want to love you back?"

Part of a story that I will never write ;-;

Blond people (2)

The second time that he hated blond people was when he discovered that Germania was his father. He had just been captured by Rome. He had just seen his mother bleed to death.

He was sitting in one of the cells of the coliseum when he saw him. With a blond hair just like his. And he knew, he didn't had to ask, he didn't had to think for long. And then he hated him, he hated him with more passion that he had ever hated anyone, even himself. And he blamed him, he blamed everything that had happened on him. He blamed on him that his brothers didn't love him. He blamed on him that he could never have a family. He blamed on him that his mother was dead. He blamed on him that Rome had captured him. He blamed on him everything that happened and that didn't. And then he hated him even more.

Blond people

The first time that England hated blond people was also the first time that he hated himself. He was running, trying to catch his brothers and he wondered "is this the meaning of family?" "helplessly trying to be loved?". He got his answer hours later when they try to drown him for the first time. That is when he saw it. His reflection on the river. He saw his green eyes, his pale skin and his blond hair. He saw everything that he wasn't and everything that he should be. And then he hated himself. And then he blamed himself. He blamed on himself that his brothers didn't love him, he blamed on himself that he could never have a family, he blamed on himself that his mother always looked at him pity. And then he hated his brothers. And then hated what it meant to live.

What the red means

H-happy buddy daddies friday guys-

It's been an honor :(