Lights →
Summary: At night Clara has a bad dream that she needs to warn her papa about…until she sees a light. Curiosity always wins out over fear.
Submitted by: Anon
Why can’t this be canon? I JUST WANT MERLIN EVERYONE TO BE HAPPY *SOBS*
Okay we know the writers would never allow Arthur and Merlin to realize that they’d be perfect for each other, in my head canon they’re just not gay in this incarnation. When they come back, then they’ll be together.
So here’s how I’d write it:
Morgana and Mordred get together and start being evil and having fun and braiding each other’s dreadlocks, la lala lala~ cause that’s already happening. They have some big bad plot to kill the king and Merlin cause Modred (or Mo as I will henceforth be calling him) hates Merlin since he tried to get him captured/killed. Merlin and Morgana are doing a magic battle thing and talking, and Merlin makes her see the light of Arthur’s awesome and how he’s not Uther and she already got her revenge on him. She tells Modred to stop and he’s like fuck you guys I’m gonna keep being evil, and bails since obviously w/o Morgs that plan was doomed. He goes and makes his army and whatnot. Morgana and Arthur have a tense but somewhat loving reunion and either before or after this magic is legalized. Merlin and Morgana can fall in love now, but it’ll be a long road of ‘I love you but you tried to kill me’ stuff and it’ll be adorable and Merlin would become King consort if Arthur died and stuff. Gwen and Morgana’s friendship never fully recovers but they get on like the used to eventually and make fun of their boys and keep them from being boyish dummies. Much later, say when Arthur is 40-50 Mo comes back with him big ol’ evil invasion force cause Morgana had promised him he’d be her heir when she was queen and now he wants albion. (Mordred has become even more of a Moriarty since Morgana’s betrayal) then the whole fate of Arthur happens and Mo kills arthur rather than merlin at the last second cause he knows that will just break him. Morgana becomes queen and Arthur’s kids are the next heirs to the throne.
So no happy ending, but there are a good 10-20 years of happy time for the fabulous four. Plus they definitely all have kids so their legacy lives on. I say good deal.
Don’t worry I still love Merthur with the fire of 1000 exploding stars, I just want this to happen on the show cause I’m being realistic and I want Merlin to have a chance at love and happiness in this lifetime.
Also I want the end of the show to be present day, Merlin and Arthur first meeting.
Come on writers, this is a perfect way to make it so all the children who watch the show won’t be completely scared for life by the inevitable tragedy.
ETA: also just saying, they’re probably gonna kill Gaius next series or even have him die in the five years that pass between series 4 and 5
Anglophenia and Doctor Who Facebook Page Present 20 Doctor Who Quotes To Live By In 2012 →
Recently BBC America and the global Doctor Who Facebook page asked fans to submit their favorite quotes from Doctor Who, seasons past, to contribute to a roundup of New Year wisdom, advice – words to live by, if you will – from the Doctor and his companions in 2012 and beyond.
As you can imagine, the response was swift and overwhelming, so here, in condensed form, is what we’re going to have to call The Tao of Who:
We’ll get started with one of our favorites: “A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but it is by no means the most interesting.” – The Third Doctor, The Time Warrior
From the BBC America Facebook page:
“Some people live more in 20 years than others do in 80. It’s not the time that matters, it’s the person.”
The Tenth Doctor, The Lazarus Experiment – nominated by Jennifer Phelps“For some people, small, beautiful events are what life is all about.”
The Fifth Doctor, Earthshock – Matthew Rognstad“There’s no point in being grown up if you can’t act a little childish sometimes.”
The Fourth Doctor, Robot – Melinda Botterbusch (this was a very popular choice, but Melinda was first to nominate it)“Courage isn’t a matter of not being frightened, you know. It’s being afraid and doing what you have to do anyway.”
The Third Doctor, Planet of the Daleks – Leo Sarmiento“The good things don’t always soften the bad, but vice-versa, the bad things don’t necessarily spoil the good things and make them unimportant.”
The Eleventh Doctor, Vincent and the Doctor – Courtney Davis“Never ignore coincidence. Unless, of course, you’re busy. In which case, always ignore coincidence.”
The Eleventh Doctor, The Pandorica Opens – Kathy Quinn Hertzog“One good solid hope is worth a cartload of certainties.”
The Fourth Doctor, Warrior’s Gate – Barry McCann“Nobody important? Blimey, that’s amazing. Do you know, in nine hundred years of time and space I’ve never met anyone who wasn’t important before.”
The Eleventh Doctor, A Christmas Carol – Hayley DennisFrom the global Doctor Who Facebook page:
“Always take a banana to a party, Rose: bananas are good!”
The Tenth Doctor, The Girl in the Fireplace – Bethy Barnum“You know when sometimes, you meet someone so beautiful – and then you actually talk to them, and five minutes later they’re as dull as a brick; but then there’s other people. And you meet them and you think, ‘Not bad, they’re okay,’ and then when you get to know them… Their face just sort of becomes them, like their personality’s written all over it, and they just – they turn into something so beautiful. Rory’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever met.”
Amy Pond, The Girl Who Waited – Katherine Pollock“Our lives are different from anybody else’s. That’s the exciting thing. Nobody in the universe can do what we’re doing.”
The Second Doctor, Tomb of the Cybermen – Romalee Pomi“Your life could depend on this. Don’t blink. Don’t even blink. Blink and you’re dead. They are fast. Faster than you can believe. Don’t turn your back, don’t look away, and don’t blink! Good luck.”
The Tenth Doctor, Blink – Karrie Sturgeon“If it’s time to go, remember what you’re leaving. Remember the best. My friends have always been the best of me.”
The Eleventh Doctor, The Wedding of River Song – Matt Jean-Lubin“Go forward in all of your beliefs, and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine.”
The First Doctor, The Dalek Invasion of Earth – Phil Stewart“There’s a lot of things you need to get across this universe. Warp drive… wormhole refractors… You know the thing you need most of all? You need a hand to hold.”
The Tenth Doctor, Fear Her – Amy K Malcolm“I am and always will be the optimist. The hoper of far-flung hopes and the dreamer of improbable dreams.”
The Eleventh Doctor, The Almost People – Ned Thorne“When you’re a kid, they tell you it’s all… Grow up, get a job, get married, get a house, have a kid, and that’s it. But the truth is, the world is so much stranger than that. It’s so much darker. And so much madder. And so much better.”
Elton, Love and Monsters – Moira Weis“You don’t just give up. You don’t just let things happen. You make a stand! You say no! You have the guts to do what’s right, even when everyone else just runs away.”
Rose, The Parting of the Ways – Mia Kaim“There’s always something to look at if you open your eyes!”
The Fifth Doctor, Kinda – Earl Roggeman“One may suffer a world of demons for the sake of an angel.”
Madame du Pompadour, The Girl in the Fireplace – Will Cole
Remind me that when I’m depressed I should read these.
On the subject of my last post, ‘cause it’s something I wanna rant about a little…
I don’t have this problem, I don’t think anyone is about to use my art to post on their blogs to share it or as their own work (but I added watermarks, just in case because apparently nobody respects anyone). I’m not that good, but some people like cris-art, bigbigtruck, sdkay, alloftheart, hamletmachine, etc. are, and personally I’m tired of hearing artists complain about this problem.
I’m not saying they should get over it, they have every right to complain. I’m saying everyone else should get over whatever laziness that is going on here—I mean, if it’s art theft, that’s another bowl of grapes entirely, and those people are going to the special hell—but if you’re just posting it to share with your friends or followers why is it so hard to link back to them?
Yes, they may never see your post of their work, they may never know about it. But everyone who sees that post, who likes that art, won’t automatically know who’s it is even if there a signature or watermark. I know I appreciate when there’s a link, because if I see some awesome art or fan art, I want to check out that person’s other art. It is not hard to write “by artistshandlegoeshere” under the picture. It helps other people find them and keeps the artists happy and making more work that we can enjoy.
And that’s ignoring the ethical reasons why you should be citing someone’s work entirely, but I thought this would be a good way to incentivize it for anyone who doesn’t get it.
If that small little citation is too difficult, then you shouldn’t be posting it in the first place, stop ruining the fun for everyone else.
You may be wondering what this is.
This is what I’m planning to do to my fanarts. I’m pissed off seeing people who doesn’t source when they upload my pics (when they repost my art, instead of reblogging). I’ve written them asking for a credit link, and they’ve told me: “there’s your signature, that’s enough”.
So I feel they leave me no choice, I’ll have to watermark them like this. I’m sure no one is going to like that, but what else am I supposed to do. So please respect the fanart sources. Not only mine, all artists deserve to be credited for their hard work.
Thanks for your comprehension.
what a bunch of jerks, I mean at the very least wouldn’t you want to be able to link to the artist so that people who enjoy the art can find more of that artist’s work as easily as possible?
¿Dónde está la biblioteca? Me llamo T-Bone, la araña discoteca. Discoteca, muñeca, la biblioteca. Está en bigote grande, perro, manteca. Manteca, bigote, gigante, pequeño. Cabeza es nieve, cerveza es bueno. Buenos Dias, me gustan papas frías. El bigote de la cabra es Cameron Diaz.
DC reveals that the entire company is gay, and is asking Marvel out on a date.
don’t get my hopes up, I seriously would believe that.
My first reaction was ‘Nice thought but there’s no way, Coulson is much younger than…’ and then I stopped mid-thought.
Because you know what.
You know what.
After Steve, the US government had to keep trying to recreate the Super-Soldier Serum.
And who
and who
would be the FIRST DAMN PERSON IN LINE to volunteer?
They told us it never worked again. And that was kind of true. They never again recreated the super-strength or the gleaming pecs. But other things, they got right. They got the vastly delayed aging. And the kind of reflexes that make a man able to take out two armed thugs with a bag of flour. And the talent for leading through example. And they got the most important part, Erskine’s favorite part: the magnification of moral fiber, taking the loyalty and selflessness of a loyal and selfless man and making him into something spectacular.
Coulson didn’t buy those vintage cards on Ebay.
He’s had them since he was a little boy.
That little boy right there.
ALL OF THE HEADCANON IS ACCEPTED
This would be major heartfail!
oh god…I…I
It had been two years, nine months, four days, seven hours and thirty-three minutes since Sherlock Holmes had jumped off the roof of St. Bartholomew’s hospital to his supposed death.
Today had been like any other day. Sherlock burst into the flat, hair wet, jacket sopping, a faint fleck of some unknown substance on his face. John looked up at him and sighed, “Christ, Sherlock.”
“John, I am so sorry. I—“
“Sherlock, it doesn’t matter. It’s fine.” His friend’s voice was level, as though it had been only a day since they’d last seen each other, that he’d never jumped off that roof, that he’d never hidden himself away and forced his friend to endure unbearable amounts of pain.
Sherlock didn’t know what to say. He expected something, anything. Yelling, screaming, crying, punching, he wouldn’t even have put it past John Watson to throw the pocket knife lodged in the side table at him. He guided himself to the couch and sat down, the entire flat seeming as though it were made of eggshells, as though one wrong word, one wrong breath and the entire house of cards would come down around their ears.
He waited for him to say something, thinking that perhaps John had gone into shock and didn’t know how to react. Sherlock stared at him, two-day old shirt, cold tea, book he’d already read twice—no, three times—judging by the dog ears on the pages. He hadn’t slept well, the bags under his eyes looked worse than when he’d been kept up because of the blind banker.
“Sherlock,” John said, not looking up from his book, “you’ll mould the carpet and Mrs. Hudson will put it on our rent.”
He hadn’t even noticed the rain puddling around his feet, a dark ring etching itself against the fabric of the carpet. Of course. The jacket was placed on the coat rack, along with his scarf, and he went to make himself a cup of tea. Something about this situation was bothering him. He kept looking at the various things in the flat, doing his best to find something, anything that could tell him why John wasn’t reacting like he knew John Watson would have reacted.
But there was nothing. Nothing but a string of unanswered question marks that led right to his only friend.
______
“DAMN!” The shatter and loud outburst actually made Sherlock startle—something that hadn’t happened in longer than he could accurately remember. When he looked, he saw John cleaning up a beaker that he’d knocked over.
He hesitated. John was perfectly capable of cleaning up after himself, and something told him to stay away. “Are you alright in there?” he offered, much more quietly than his normal inquisitions.
“Yeah, fine, I just…damn burner. I wish you’d not leave them so near the edge of the table like that, Sherlock!” The sound of the rubbish bin opening , the glass tinkling in, and then silence. When Sherlock looked up from his work, he saw John standing, facing the sink stock still. His head was hung low and his shoulders were sagging. Sherlock felt a tugging in the center of his chest, and he couldn’t understand why. Again, he looked at the signs, observed everything, but all that lay on those slumped shoulders of his friend was another line of question marks.
This happened every once in a while. Something would break, John would drop something, or he would suddenly go quiet and stand in the kitchen as though a man possessed. Sherlock never assisted him, not unless he saw John in any immediate danger. And when he did, he made sure not to touch him.
Once, he had touched John as he helped clean a shattered teacup and spilt Ceylon tea. John had frozen solid for the faintest of moments, a dark colour flashed through his eyes. But he didn’t look at Sherlock. He took what Sherlock saw as calming breaths and continued cleaning it up.
Sherlock didn’t dare touch him again.
____
A particularly quiet day nearly a month after his return, Sherlock had been watching John write on his computer for the past two hours. “John…is everything…are you alright?”
“Yes…” John only locked eyes with his friend for a hair of a second before burying his nose back in the computer, “Yes, I’m…I’m fine.”
____
When John was at work one day, Sherlock had phoned Lestrade. He was going absolutely mental without anything to do. He’d gone far past bored, and he wasn’t about to let his mind go fallow.
One afternoon, a few days later, Lestrade came up to the flat. John made himself tea and offered some to the DI, who politely refused.
“I won’t be here long enough for tea,” he said, brushing past John and coming to stand in front of Sherlock, “I know you’ve been home long enough, but we’ve got a suicide that couldn’t possibly be a suicide. Large metal doors bolted from the inside and a man who couldn’t even open his hands to holda gun, let alone shoot it. Will you come?”
Sherlock looked from the Detective Inspector to John, and that tugging at his chest happened again.
John was paralyzed. The tea was slowly dribbling to the ground as his arms went to his sides of their own accord. His jaw was hanging slack.
Carefully, Sherlock stood and came towards him, “John, John are you alright?”
He didn’t answer him. “L-Lestrade…You can see him, too?” he whispered.
“Bloody hell….” Lestrade covered his mouth and scrubbed at his cheek with his hand as the situation sunk in around the two of them.
It …it couldn’t be. Why hadn’t he noticed? The question marks disappeared as Sherlock chanced a gentle hand on his friend’s shoulder, “Oh, John….”
Does everyone know about this? WHY DOESN’T EVERYONE KNOW ABOUT THIS?! MY HEART IS BREAKING IN THE BEST WAY GSWJGIZJHIETJHNIDGJMBIDKZGZRSHZRSWGD
