#that quote changed lives (my life)

[dizzybizz]

some stuff picked out from my tgaa sketch dump :) figuring out some faces,, memes,,, stuff based off of dialogue,,, exactly one sad,, gays,,,

[inabigworld]

i don’t desire mediocre love. i want a love that is so deep, i want someone to drown in me.

[starrrbakerrr]

HSMTMTS Appreciation Week Day 2: Favorite Dynamic

"Nobody amuses Gina like Ricky and nobody makes Ricky happy like Gina." -Tim Federle (creator)

[gqandw]

[invalidstories]

I hope you have the courage to...

"I hope you have the courage to keep loving deeply in a world that sometimes fails to do so. In a generation that orders up attention like they order up a meal, in a generation that has started to love with one foot out the door, I hope you have the courage to believe that genuine connection still exists. And I hope you have the courage to stand up for that, to open yourself to it when you start to feel it bloom within the heart of you. I hope you have the courage to appreciate it for all that it is, to not approach it wearing a mask, to not try to desensitize yourself to it or to play it cool. Please, I hope you have the courage to crash your heart into the people life gifts you. I hope you have the courage to believe that goodness still exists, that there are those who have the capacity to love the way you do, and that there are those who will see you, will grow you, and teach you more about the world. I hope you have the courage to fight for connection. I hope you have the courage to go deeper. To never exist on the surface of your life, even if it’s easier or more convenient. At the end of the day, you should leave this world with a heart that is worn-out and soft all over. A heart that is bruised from loving, and feeling, and caring in the best way possible. At the end of the day, you should be proud of your inability to be anything but open to the world. You should be proud of who you are.

I hope you have the courage to do the hard work. I hope you have the courage to sit down with your demons, to befriend them; to look them in the face and to not feel fear. I hope you have the courage to stop picking or numbing or avoiding the wounds within, and I hope you choose to heal them instead. I hope you have the courage to understand yourself, fundamentally—to open up the deepest, darkest parts of your mind, to unhinge your rib cage revealing the gritty parts of your soul, the parts no one else claps for, and I hope you have the courage to clean them out. To forgive yourself for what you had to do to kill your sadness. To forgive yourself for the ways in which you didn’t fight for the person you were becoming. I hope you have the courage to nurture your pain, to not disregard it or sweep it under the rug of distraction or convenience. I hope you have the courage to heal yourself, even when it hurts.

I hope you have the courage to know when to end things. And I hope you have the courage to see endings as beautiful, transformative stepping stones. I hope you have the courage to let love and opportunity move through you like rain. To not grip, or seek to change it, to not ask people or circumstances to be more than they can be for you. I hope you have the courage to see endings as the cornerstones of the chapters that changed you without needing them to be a part of the rest of your story. And when that is done, I hope you have the courage to give yourself closure. To be your own home. To be your own safe place. I hope you have the courage to not let the losses destroy you, to not let them burrow into the heart of who you are and convince you that you failed, or that you are unworthy of the happiness you are standing up for in your life. I hope you have the courage to see the way in which you loved and tried and fought for something as a testament to just how deeply your capacity to feel is, just how beautiful moments can be when you appreciate them for what they were instead of nullifying them or letting them harden you to the world. Please, I hope you have the courage to move forward. I hope you have the courage to walk away with grace.

I hope you have the courage to do things differently, to be the kind of person who takes the risk, to be the kind of person who leads with their heart and shows up in their life with a ruthless dedication to learning and growing and enjoying the hell out of their moments here. I hope you have the courage to never let comfort or apprehension convince you that you are better off staying still. I hope you have the courage to trust the part of yourself that knows there’s more out there for you, the part of yourself that is easy to quiet when you’re trying to live by the rules and the expectations of a world that has bred so much dissatisfaction and sadness. I hope you have the courage to trust the part of yourself that seeks freedom from those trends, from those boundaries, and I hope you have the courage to go after whatever it is that genuinely makes you want to get up in the morning. I hope you have the courage to find the things in life that ignite you and deepen your understanding of the world and those within it. I hope you have the courage to fight for a future that inspires you, even if it doesn’t look the way you thought it would. I hope you have the courage to change. I hope you have the courage to trust in the person you’re becoming."

-Bianca Sparacino

Masterlist

[little-candy-store-of-horrors]

"The man's a penis."

[lunacelebrateslife]

[doctorbrown]

MCFLY JULY ‘24 ⸺ 「 28 / 31 * ON THE RADIO 」

October 8, 1984

How he was convinced to undergo this massive undertaking wasn’t the question. Emmett knows exactly how it happened. Left to his own devices, things had begun piling up and now that their newest side-project was underway, the so-called mega-powered amplifier, they would need to clear away more space before the garage became even more of a tripping hazard than it already was.

The more appropriate question he needs to ask is why he is attempting this in the first place when he knows he will commit to the task for two hours, perhaps slightly longer than that if he’s focused, before his attention is called elsewhere and the task abandoned for the three-hundredth time over the years.

Then the why swings the front door open excitedly, shouts ‘Hey Doc, I’m here!’ and Emmett slides a two-tiered box of two-plus decade-old paperwork to the side of the couch in what has become the designated garbage pile.

“Hey, uh, Doc, you home?”

“Over here, Marty.” Marty follows the sound of his voice over to the couch. “I figured I’d try and clear up some room now that we’re going to be building your amplifier in here over the next few months.”

Marty looks around, noticing the additional layers of paperwork and other seemingly random things strewn across the floor, and frowns slightly. “If it’s too much trouble, we don’t have to do it. You’re working on your other thing, that thing you won’t tell me about a—”

“Marty, I wouldn’t’ve agreed to build it with you in the first place if I didn’t want to. Or if I thought I couldn’t juggle both projects.” After a second, Marty smiles, a visible weight lifting from his shoulders. Emmett stands, passing him a stack of old, yellowed papers that he accepts without question.

“I thought you had a research project you were supposed to be doing.”

“I do. Actually that’s—hey where do you want me to put these?” Emmett gestures to the discard pile and Marty curiously flips through a couple of the documents before dropping the whole pile on top of the box. “That’s why I came. Earlier than I thought I would, anyway. Doc, you ever heard of The War of the Worlds?”

“The book or the radio adaptation?”

“Both, I guess. But mostly the radio adaptation. It was a book first?”

“It was. Written by H.G. Wells. Do you remember me telling you about his other book The Time Machine?”

Marty presses his lips together. “Mmm, yeah, kind of. This guy turns a sled into a time machine and then goes to the future, right? And a lot of things aren’t great there. Didn’t you say they stole his time machine?”

“That’s a quick explanation of it, but essentially, yes. He wrote a lot of plausible science regarding the time-travel into his novel, which I quite liked, and the idea of his time machine—” Emmett stops, waving a hand to get himself back on-track. “Anyway, you were asking me about War of the Worlds. What do you want to know about it?”

Marty flops onto the couch and starts digging through his backpack, producing a crinkled, horribly yellowed newspaper. The tagline reads ‘WAR’ ON THE AIRWAVES: RADIO PLAY STIRS TERROR ACROSS NATION and Marty grins up at Emmett from behind the page. Emmett’s brows fly up as he accepts the proffered paper, unfolding it to read the rest of the front-page news article.

Halloween hoax turns deadly!

Thousands of radio listeners were seized by panic during a dramatization of H.G. Wells’ The War of the Worlds performed by Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre on the Air between 8:15 and 9:30 o’clock last night, believing Martian invaders had come down to attack the Earth.

Households all across the country were disrupted, radio waves jammed due to volume, mass hysteria caused people to flee their homes en masse to escape—

“I was going to write my paper about the invention of radio and how it changed our lives, so I went to the library. Mom and Dad, well, they weren’t so helpful and this is before they were born anyway.” October 31, 1938—Emmett hums. No, his parents were likely just born around that time, far too young to remember it.  

“Almost everything I’ve found about this radio play just talks about how Orson Welles caused so much chaos and panic on Halloween back in ’38. To the point where he had to publicly apologise for freaking people out. Any chance you remember that, Doc? That you were listening to it? I’d kinda like to hear it from someone I trust.”

The memories have adopted that fuzzy quality that time often brings to them, their integrity broken down at the edges to where they are still recognisable, but the smaller details have since faded, been sacrificed to time.

Emmett remembers being eighteen, lounging in the most comfortable chair he had, tuned into CBS, eagerly awaiting the radio adaptation of Wells’ novel. He remembers hanging on their every word, devouring the reports as if they were the real deal, scientific papers published by one of his heroes.

For an hour, he had suspended his disbelief, allowed himself to be dragged into the reimagined world created by Welles and his troupe, and thought about fondly once it had ended, to the point where he’d pulled out the novel to reread.

“I was a little older than you when that broadcast happened and yes, as a matter of fact, I was tuned in.” Marty’s eyes light up and he leans in, eagerly awaiting the story. “This was forty-six years ago so I don’t remember every single detail about the broadcast, but I remember being impressed by the effort put into it. Welles and his troupe did a great job of making it sound very realistic despite the outlandish material he was working with.”

“How’d he do that?”

“He performed it like it was a news bulletin happening in real-time. So he had fake accounts from scientists, from government officials, from ordinary people at Grovers Mill—the novel happens largely in London, but for the play, they moved the invasion here, focusing on New Jersey and New York instead—who were watching the Martians come down, witnessing the destruction, talking like everyday people. In that manner, it was very convincing. I remember being glued to my radio, even appreciating all the changes they had made.”

Marty’s expression turns thoughtful. He can see the gears turning in the boy's head, but what he could possibly be thinking in the moment is a mystery. “So you weren’t afraid at all?”

Emmett chuckles. “No. And not just because I’d been listening the entire time and knew it was just a play. These newspaper articles”—he holds up the one Marty passed to him, indicating the clearly polarising title—“aren’t indicative of what actually happened.”

Marty pinches his brows together and Emmett continues. “For one, nobody, at least not that I saw in California, ever ran out of their houses screaming. It was only ever in the newspapers that that happened. I doubt most people even tuned into the radio show—back then, science fiction wasn’t widely popular amongst people yet, not like it is nowadays—and one look outside would have told people immediately that this was not real. Besides, the Mercury Theatre was scheduled to be performing War of the Worlds at that time; it wasn’t a secret.”

Marty’s expression falls slightly and Emmett finds himself wishing the reality of it could have been far more interesting to match up with the stories perpetuated in the news. He passes the paper back to Marty.

“Then where’d all these stories come from? Do you think he expected this to happen?”

“I think that’s the million-dollar-question, isn’t it? Orson Welles was a very talented man of the theatre; I think he had a vision in mind with that play and he knew exactly what he was doing. However, I believe he didn’t expect the media to use his performance as a stepping-stone the way they did.” Or, maybe, he expected exactly that.

They may never know the truth.

“But if I had to guess, it was the newspapers' way of trying to stay relevant. Around that time, most people owned radios and it became the primary source of news and entertainment. Newspapers were starting to become a medium of the past. Not unlike now, how video is replacing radio as the prime source of media entertainment.”

“Video killed the radio star!” Suddenly, Marty stuffs the paper back into his bag and hops off the couch, startling Emmett. “Not gonna lie, Doc, I was hoping you’d have some crazy story to tell about the panic, but I think you’ve given me exactly what I was looking for!”

In his haste, Marty nearly trips over the couch as he tries to vault it, searching for the quickest way to the door.

“Oh, Doc! Do you mind if I use you as one of my sources for this paper?”

“Sure, go ahead.”

[meep-meep-richie]

Three minutes and seventeen seconds

[catmint1]

I must change my life so that I can live it, not wait for it.

Susan Sontag, Reborn: Journals and Notebooks, 1947-1964

[syl-stormblessed]

JUST SAW LES MISERABLES IN BOSTON. I CAN FINALLY DIE HAPPY GUYS.

[euesworld]

"You can be successful if you try and never give up, the trying is the hard part.. but once you find success, it will come easy. The key part of that is not giving up.. I know things seem lost sometimes, but set some goals. Start at the first one until you achieve it, then move on to number two.. we often get overwhelmed when looking at life as a whole. It's a lot to take in!! Just pick one thing and go for it, once you taste success.. go for another, and life will start bending to your will. You CAN be successful and it starts with trying.. you will fail and you will succeed. There may be a lot of failure but don't give up, that's how you learn.. if everyone gave up in the past, we wouldn't be where we are today. Failure is a part of the learning process.. you can do it if you try, so try try your little heart out my friend and you will succeed eventually. Get into the rhythm of trying every day, get into the rhythm of success.."

Just throwing that out there for anyone that needs to hear it - eUë

[onemomentinhispresence]

[revserrayyu]

One HSR Character a Day Day 41: Serval (aka: revs' favorite)

[tokruta]

Life isn't over until you're dead

Life isn't over until you're dead

Life isn't over until you're dead

Life isn't over until you're dead

Life isn't over until you're dead

LIFE ISN'T OVER UNTIL YOU'RE DEAD!!!!

[st-louis]

@herstrionics the partially but not completely serious answer is "from hell's heart i stab at thee, for hate's sake i spit my last breath at thee"

the actual serious answer is צדק צדק תרדוף