John Green, Paper Towns (via meandrouskismet)
|your top 20 favorite people in rp?|
1. Andréas Houghton
2. Axl Descartes
3. Alejandré Houghton
4. Romeo Fin Descartes
5. Blaxe Vernaglia
6. Keeva Katrice Descartes
7. Aaron Yves Vernaglia
8. Druella Descartes
9. Enma Vernaglia
10. Sid Spiller
11. Alaric Houghton
12. Axendra Descartes
13. Ironman Hotfire
14. Daisy Volturi
15. Sulpicia Volturi
16. Hunter Beckett
17. Jacq Heath
18. Lystra Gunnhild
19. Lora Gauthier
20. Sig Faulkner
Thou shall not question the reason behind. Thank you.
Bewitched by my words, you are fascinated, beguiled
By every syllable and I selfishly want nothing
But to capture just the right emotion to sway
Your mind, heart and soul, if possible I would,
Then keep you coming back for more each day
Crave for me, when I please but I will
Keep you waiting until midnight for I am capable
Of doing whatever my irrationality dictates:
Hasten the days into months or years
Or abandon reality when you wage a war,
A new dimension I give myself, then transform
This winter into summer or fall or spring and
To create forevers and inifinities and eternities.
Prolong your agony, torture you with promises,
Assert lies with greeting cards, songs and flowers,
Kill your dreams with mine, you are hopeless
A fool for mistaking this gentleness, you are
Denyingly shattered, unable to stand on your own
Because I can always apologize for breaking
That fragile heart which only demands my touch.
One caress and you are fine again, slave of my whims,
Kisses that weaken your reason, in silence you obey
And in me you find a phony quiet sanctuary:
A home protected by my arms during the cold night
Where you mumble your worries and doubts
But I listen with ears closed, with absolutely no intent
To understand your pain, I do not care, my darling.
Unfortunately, I just need you to amuse me,
Be my ecstasy to finish a book and write a prose
Unadulterated by inexpressible happiness.
Whenever I leave the bed the next morning
Seems a dream to me, I easily forget about it.
Spending the day away from me, you can’t help
Missing the only hands that save you, I dared
Pick you up gently and propel you away
Like an exhausted pencil that can’t be sharpened anymore:
Useless and tearless, condemned numb and longing
For your nonchalant partner who wears the mask
Of a prince charming and this is your fairy tale.
You have no choice but to search for me,
Cry for my name, plead for me to want you back
And stay with you until the stars hide again.
Don’t you know that you are my protagonist?
Oh how I love tragedies, an unending kind of ache.
Resigned to reveal a clandestine as I purposively
End this madness, I declare a fair warning:
Writers are dangerous lovers so be very careful,
Avoid engaging in lengthy conversations,
I may say the right words, I might as well try.
Somebody take me away from your territory
Because I really try my best to pretend that this
Is an emotionless love, an insincere affection.
Am I cursed with mine own destiny to have fallen
For you, my muse, a superbly challenging writer?
With a wink, you have stirred in me a desire
To organize a happy ending in the epilogue instead.
Translation: I have sometimes the impression to wander around the world in the alone intention to accumulate the material of future nostalgias.
I cannot stress enough the significance of these two sets/settings.
Stefan and Elena are standing pretty far apart. Their surrounding is nice and organized and clean. The environment around them is simple and it’s safe. But on the left you can see a shimmering light, a hint of a flickering flame against the wall, dim and dull. Like there was once a fire there, but now it’s small and disappearing. Not completely gone. Like a memory.
Then we go to Damon and Elena, and everything’s different. The room is red and warm and cozy. The room itself has come to life. They are passionately kissing by a roaring fire, representing their love, as well as the fact that these two characters are quite frankly two twin flames. Twin flames that have now come together to ignite an all-consuming fire, like the one right behind them. Just like Damon said to her the first time they met: “You want a love that consumes you. You want passion. And adventure. And even a little danger.” Just like the burning fire behind them. Just like this moment. Just like their love.
But the 8-hour workday is too profitable for big business, not because of the amount of work people get done in eight hours (the average office worker gets less than three hours of actual work done in 8 hours) but because it makes for such a purchase-happy public. Keeping free time scarce means people pay a lot more for convenience, gratification, and any other relief they can buy. It keeps them watching television, and its commercials. It keeps them unambitious outside of work.
We’ve been led into a culture that has been engineered to leave us tired, hungry for indulgence, willing to pay a lot for convenience and entertainment, and most importantly, vaguely dissatisfied with our lives so that we continue wanting things we don’t have. We buy so much because it always seems like something is still missing.
Yves Saint Laurent surrounded by models as the new head of the House of Dior, 1958.
Chimes are swaying out a song
The fan drones in peaceful hum
Summer songs of evening birds
The cooling dusk whisper a sigh
With his last kiss and toddler hug
I can’t resist his goodnight cuddles
“We mistake sex for romance. Guys are taught that pushing a girl up against a wall is romance. Sex is easy; you can do it with anyone, yourself, with batteries. Romance is when someone you like walks into a room and they take your breath away. Romance is when two people are dancing and they fit together perfectly. Romance is when two people are walking next to each other and all of a sudden they find themselves holding hands, and they don’t know how that happened.”— John C. Moffi
Reflection and Emission Nebulas
— Rho Ophiuchi Cloud Complex