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The Best of: Steve Harrington

An easy step-by-step guide on why he isn’t that bad of a guy.

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These are my favorite parents in any movie ever.

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Alone for Christmas

Waking up was an everyday occurrence yet today was painfully hard for the young brunette to open her eyes for more than five seconds. The morning light was already streaming into her bedroom and coated her as the light continued to grow, she knew it couldn’t have been too late in the morning as her body was still in work mode. It was a normal day, she should be at work stocking shelves and taking inventory but because of this pointless holiday the shop was closed. She had begged her bosses to let her work over time in the shop and get it ready for tomorrows big shopping heard of bargain hunters, yet they found it immoral to make someone work on this joyous day. Slowly the brown eyed beauty blinked her eyes open and squinted and the light, regretting that she didn’t close the curtains last night. Groaning in annoyance she rolled to her side and picked up her phone from her nightstand and glared and the screen. Eight forty-five AM. Why did she have to wake up early and allow herself to experience more of the day? A new message kept blinking on the lock screen and created confusion, no one was working today, why would someone text her? Opening the message her blood ran cold ‘Merry Christmas Tessa, from your friends at EE. Missing friends and family abroad then click the following link to upgrade your…’, she would have finished reading the text yet her phone had already been flung to the other side of the room. Throwing herself on her back Tessa stared at the ceiling, chanting to herself repeated phrases like ‘stupid EE’, ‘I need to change phone providers’, ‘fuck EE’. She knew she wouldn’t do anything about the phone company as then she would have to talk to someone and go through a lot of hassle, only for another phone company to text her a similar message next year.

Slowly rising she slumped down the stairs and pushed down the button for the kettle lazily. Today she couldn’t feel anything, if she was in the serene minimalistic room with her therapist she would describe herself as numb. Opening the cupboard above the kettle she grabbed the closest mug without looking up, once the drinkware was removed an avalanche began. Suddenly the cold kitchen floor was filled with broken porcelain and the occasional cracked mug that had landed very safely. Sighing, she lowered herself to her knees and started to pick up the shattered pieces and throw them in the bin behind her. Sometimes she would come across the piece with a comical phrase or a picture of a puppy that had probably been gifted to her by her mother that constantly showered her with gifts years ago, to make up for living thousands of miles away. Tessa didn’t care about her broken belongings, they were all just cluttering up her home that she wouldn’t miss. Slowly her fingers scratched along the surface of a sharp edge causing blood to come flowing out, the physical pain was nothing compared to the cold feeling that ran through her. The mug stood out from the rest of the pile, there was no random dog, no joke that she never found funny or not just an obnoxious bright colour. The mug housed a simple picture of a two-week-old baby, it was a gift to say ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been getting up during the night, I love you and I promise I’ll try to be better’. At the time, she called him stupid and told him they didn’t need any more junk yet she felt herself release a slow tear in happiness. The little brown haired baby would be enjoying her third Christmas today, if fait wasn’t cruel.

She had forgotten about the small possession and scrambled quickly to grab any pieces that belonged to the mug and placed them gently on the side. Once she thought she had assembled all the appropriate pieces she ran across the floor and flung open the drawer and grabbed the glue. Although she could feel all the pieces she had left behind stab into her feet and pierce her skin yet she couldn’t even pretend to care. Anyone else would see the many shards and know the mug was unfixable, she couldn’t give up on this even if her life depended on it. She hadn’t saw this mug in over two years and hadn’t remembered that she owned but now she remembered its existence she needed it in her life and couldn’t live without it. After attempting to put the pieces together in multiple different ways, she slowly came to the realisation that no matter how hard she tried she wouldn’t be able to rebuild her lost love. She had lost it. Grabbing the closest thing to her she flung it to the opposite wall, the bowl crashed and smashed over the room.

Moving towards the living room limping, her hand wrapped around the first aid kit that housed the bandages and ointment. Everything hurt and she could no longer keep the scream inside her. Falling into herself on the couch she started to wrap her injured limb up. No matter which direction she went in, the bleeding wouldn’t stop. He was the doctor, she was just another shop assistant trying to earn enough money to support herself.  When they met, she had recently just failed her A levels and was looking to get drunk, he was celebrating just passing his. When he hit on her she hated him yet when she was too drunk to walk straight he looked after her and made sure she was home safely. He left his number with her dad so that he could be told that she was ok. Any smart person knew he was hitting on her yet she couldn’t be bothered to care and just text him every day to avoid loneliness. No matter how good of a doctor he was, he couldn’t stop the glass impaling him.

As the memories resurfaced a tear threatened to fall to relieve herself of the pain, stubbornly she pushed them both away and dug around the remote control. Jamming the on button for what felt like an eternity she slowly heard talking fill her space. Background noise always soothed her, any noise helped calm her and help her forget about the lack of crying and gurgling. She used to cringe at the sounds of distress that babies would release yet she would do anything to hear it again just for today. Two years ago, her house was alive with wrapping paper thrown across the floor, packing ripped to shreds and her husband chasing a baby around on a push along truck. Her life was never perfect but on that day, it was. Tessa regretfully focused on the image of the TV and laid her eyes on Colin Firth confess his love to Renee Zellweger. Romantic comedies were never her thing, she only knew of this movie as ITV was playing it one night when she was breast feeding. Movies like this annoyed her when she was a teenager as she always thought it was impossible to even witness a love like that. Like every cliché though, she fell in love with a guy that acted as though he was picked straight out of a romantic movie. The difference between her great love and Bridget’s was that although there is bumps in the road she got her happy ending, Tessa didn’t.

After half an hour of allowing the burning liquid to slip down her throat, she no longer felt guilty about breaking her promise to herself of not drinking today. She had honestly tried her hardest not to touch a drop of alcohol, she hadn’t bought any but she had remembered about the bottle of whiskey that she was supposed to gift to her father last year. The bottle was residing under the bookshelf and attracted her attention, it called to her making her feel safe. Normally the brunette favoured cocktails and vodka but if this was her only option then she would live with the fire and bitter taste. She was too unaware to even feel the stabbing in her heart as she heard the love confession between the two fictional characters, it was something that had begun to feel foreign to her. The Whiskey helped. She could think about Abbie’s little toes and not cry, she could remember the way Max’s node wrinkled when he sneezed without sobbing, she could reminisce about her perfect little family of three without breaking down.

She wasn’t aware how long she had been asleep but the light from the windows had disappeared and been replaced with the sparkling lights. Calls could be heard to children as they were summoned home from playing with their new toys outside. Glancing at the clock she confirmed that she had been in an alcohol induced sleep for most of the day, just like last year. Carol wasn’t going to be impressed, the older women thought she knew best as she was a paid therapist. Most of the time Tessa believed that Carol enjoyed looking down at her and longed for the day when the nightmares would stop so she could stop seeing her. She had thought about visiting a new specialist yet Carol was the only one that would take her after witnessing her temper tantrums of throwing chairs. Moving towards the stairs she wobbled up them barely being able to put one front in front of the other as her body was still fuelled from the bitter liquid. Falling down the stairs when she reached halfway was almost enough for her to give up and stay where she was yet the faint sound of laughing pushed her ahead. Reaching her bedroom, she tugged on his big coat that she mocked when he walked into the house wearing it. Carol thought it was unhealthy to have his belongings in their usual spot, Tessa argued that if they were gone where would they go and what would go there? Stumbling the front door, she reached for the small teddy bear and walked out not bothering to lockup, if someone broke in they would just see her misery and maybe take some of it away. The winter air bit at her skin and blew at her untamed hair and blocked her vision but she continued on her path. The walk was only about forty-five minutes away, she had still yet to drive from that day and refused to ever sit in a car again.

Upon reaching the crossing she fell to her knees and allowed the tears to overtake her for the first time today as she recalled the events. The singing, the laughing, the car horn, the impact, the crying and worst of all the silence.

She was driving to see the lights on a house Max had saw on his way home from University that he thought Abbie would like. She was only seven months and was intrigued by nearly everything that her father was. Sometimes it made Tessa feel excluded that she wasn’t a big kid like her new husband and didn’t bond as easily with their daughter but she was too happy to allow that thought to linger. Max was busy singing obnoxiously to their daughter to make both females laugh, although she told him to shut up Tessa couldn’t ignore the joy that she felt consuming her. She stopped the car as she reached a crossing with the light flashing red and looked back to her giggling daughter. A large grin took place on her face as she glanced at Max, her hand moved up to fiddle with the new necklace that he had gifted her this morning. The tag had been addressed to the love of his life and was covered in glitter, she expected nothing less of the first Christmas as a married couple. Staring at the lights change to green, Tessa advanced the car and her a car horn as the laughing stopped and was replaced by metal crunching. Soon the crying started as Tessa tried to blink her eyes back into focus, her daughter’s cries were manic and were screeching for attention. Normally Max would have soothed her by now but she heard not movement. Why wasn’t max Getting Abbie? The crying came to a gradual stop and caused Tessa to panic only to realise she couldn’t move. The paramedics later told her that the steering wheel had blocked her in. Looking next to her she released a devastating scream, Max was staring at her impaled by the windshield glass with blood running down his face.

It took ten minutes for help to reach her but Tessa had already made the connection that if Abbie wasn’t crying then she had lost her. She had lost everything because of that dumb driver that was racing away from his home after being kicked out by his wife. He got a few years in prison but he was alive unlike her family, he could still feel unlike her. She still remembers the look on the paramedic’s face as she begged them to check on her husband and daughter as she screamed ‘Abbie’s not even one yet, please make sure she’s ok’, ‘Check on my husband, he hasn’t moved yet. Please, I’m scared’. They took her to the hospital and broke the news to her that she already knew, she was alone.

Sleep slowly over took Tessa as she lay on the pavement next to the road that had taken her family two years ago. Jacob would find her on his morning run like he did last year and the year before, he would call for help and then sit with her for the day too scared to leave her alone. She was content to let this be her life from now on. She murmured ‘Merry Christmas’ to herself as her eyes closed, maybe this year she’ll freeze, maybe next year she’ll feel something other than pain. Maybe one year she won’t be this anymore.

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Long Names for Girls

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This is so me ❤❤❤ ***I do not own this photo***

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Imagine Person A beginning to doze off while Person B is holding them. Person B whispers “I’ll protect you” and Person A tiredly mumbles “From what?” Person B thinks for a moment and says “I don’t know. Anything.”

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Cute OTP prompts are nice...

But what about the bad days?

Who loses it first in a fight? Who starts yelling first?

Who puts their head down and just takes it, because they know the other just needs to get it out?

Who slams doors and yells and stomps away?

Or do they sigh and their shoulders slump, as they walk away, quietly shutting the door behind them? Because sometimes the silent disappointment is worse than any yelling

Who sleeps on the couch?

And who breaks the silent treatment first, apologising and begging for a hug?

Who breaks down into sobs, saying they aren’t worth it and why are you still here? And who is the one that hold the other, tells them they’re beautiful and that it’s going to be okay, because at the end of the day some stupid fight shouldn’t ruin years of smiles and happiness?

Is the makeup sex hard and rough and loud pinned up against the wall, biting and sucking marks into each other’s necks because this person is mine dammit

Or is soft kisses and apologies, gentle caresses and touches? Is it telling the other they’re beautiful and amazing and deserve to be loved?

Because lets be honest, relationships aren’t perfect, but what’s perfect is putting all that aside and loving each other no matter what

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Person A: I'm mad and I'm pissed, but most of all, I want a kiss

Person B: Why are you pissed?

Person A: CAUSE YOU WON'T GIVE ME A FUCKING KISS

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Suggestive Dialogue Prompts

“I’m gonna need you to stop talking. Watching your mouth move that quickly is doing strange things to me.”

“Look, you’re single, I’m single. Let’s just… Fuck. It’s mutually beneficial for the two of us.”

“Stop it! Stop being so fucking hot.”

“It’s really not fair how wet you make me.”

“It’s really not fair how hard you make me.”

“I’m sorry if I’m staring. It’s just you’ve got a face I can totally see myself sitting on later.”

“You’ve gone red. Is it the banana thing again? Christ, I’ll stop eating them around you if it makes you that uncomfortable. Or….. Actually, nah. Forget it. There’s no way you’d wanna do that.”

“If you bite your lips one more time I swear I’ll bite them for you.”

“Come over and make me.”

“Haha. As if you’re that good. Prove it.”

“I’m far too turned on right now to even pretend I don’t find you attractive.”

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WUT....😀😍😲😻❤🎁 #supernatural #jaredpadalecki #jensenackles #samwinchester #deanwinchester #mishacollins #castiel #samanddean #spn #destiel

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My collection has grown out of my room and onto a bookshelf #collection #collectibles #popfunko #funko #twd #thewalkingdead #walkingdead #disney #frozen

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I've done gishwhes twice,and I always feel I don't do very well.I have a horrible habit of comparing myself to others and it takes away from the art I've created. Is there anyway to avoid this?

Actually, i think this is a good axiom in life: Don’t compare yourself to others, but do take inspiration from others. (Not bad, eh?) There was a time in my life when i measured myself against other people’s accomplishments. Then i realized that there’s always going to be lots of people better than me at everything. So i just stopped competing and it was liberating. It’s maybe easier said than done, but i think it’s kind of important. As for gishwhes, there’s always going to be someone that does an amazing rendition of a particular item, but the winning teams don’t usually have all of the most spectacular items. The great thing about gishwhes.com is it doesn’t require that you be a master at anything it just requires that you be game to do your best and to have your funnest. (Good word, eh?)

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sometimes Lucifer doesn’t look like devil