IRC-Galleria

"You live eighty years, and at best you get about six minutes of pure magic."
- George Carlin


Song to listen to: Mansun - Six (from the album "Six", 1998)
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B5tq1fXTxhQ

Seitsemän on eri hieno numero. Tietoutta:


• Antiikin maailmassa on seitsemän ihmettä.
• Maailmassa on seitsemän mannerta.
• Sateenkaaressa on seitsemän väriä.
• Viikossa on seitsemän päivää.
• Suurimmalla osalla nisäkkäistä on seitsemän luuta niskassa.
• Neutraali pH arvo on seitsemän.
• Moniälykkyysteorian mukaan älykkyyteen kuuluu seitsemän erilaista ja itsenäistä kykyä.
• Kristinuskon mukaan Jumala loi maailman seitsemässä päivässä (leväten seitsemäntenä).
• Kristinuskon paheissa on seitsemän kuolemansyntiä.
• Hindu mytologiassa universumissa on seitsemän maailmaa, maailmassa on seitsemän merta ja seitsemän gurua nimeltään sapta rishis.
• Islaminuskossa helvetissä on seitsemän tulta.
• Islaminuskon mukaan myös helvettiin vieviä ovia on seitsemän.
• Espanjankielessä ja muissa latinalaisissa kielissä kissalla sanotaan olevan seitsemän henkeä.
• Myös Iranissa on tapana sanoa kissoilla olevan seitsemän henkeä.
• Seitsemän on viisaiden miesten määrä Hindu mytologiassa; heidän vaimonsa ovat jumalattaria joita kutsutaan ”Seitsemäksi Äidiksi”.
• Irlantilaisessa mytologiassa eeppisellä sankarilla Cúchulainnilla on seitsemän sormea kussakin kädessä, seitsemän varvasta molemmissa jaloissa ja seitsemän pupillia kummassakin silmässä.
• James Bondin salainen agenttinumero on 007.
• Disneyn piirretyssä Lumikki asuu seitsemän kääpiön kanssa.
• J. K. Rowlingin Harry Potter-kirjasarjaan kuuluu seitsemän kirjaa.
• Samassa kirjasarjassa koulua käydään seitsemän vuotta.
• Harry Potterissa Lord Voldemort jakoi sielunsa seitsemään osaan pysyäkseen kuolemattomana.
• Suomalaisen kirjallisuuden kuuluisin kirja on Aleksis Kiven ”Seitsemän Veljestä”.
• Neil Gaimanin Sandman-sarjassa on seitsemän Endlessiä: Destiny, Death, Dream, Destruction, Despair, Desire ja Delirium.
• AFI yhtyeen kappaleessa “Transference” lauletaan, ”I'm one hundred eleven less than perfection.” Oletetusti tämä viittaa Raamattuun, jossa kirjoitetaan Jeesuksen (tai jonkun muun duden) sanoneen "Älä anna sinulle vääryyttä tehneelle anteeksi 7 kertaa, äläkä 77 kertaa, vaan anna hänelle anteeksi 777 kertaa" (ei ole tarkka lainaus, tästä on aikaa kun tähän satukirjaan perehdyin). Jos 777 tarkoittaa ns. "täydellistä ihmistä", joka kykenee antamaan toiselle anteeksi tarvittavan monta kertaa, niin lasku menisi: 777 - 111 = 666.
(Toim. huom. Taas se ateisti luulee tietävänsä jotain...)

.Kittens are SO cliché.

Tehdäänpä jotain hauskaa: postauksessa mitä tahansa mikä liittyy jotenkin jäljellä oleviin päiviin.
Let's call it ¡The Amazing Number Game!™, hosted by the always so marvellous Melina, straight from her devious mind all the way along her fingertips to your computer screens!

[ No. 8 ]

Song: Pitchshifter - Eight Days (from the album "PSI", 2002)
Link: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xldkOgw_ooQ

Pääsen töistä 22.30 ja mun alkuperänen seuralainen teki bänät (38 asteen kuume ole mikään syy olla ryyppäämättä!). Voisko joku tulla pitämään mulle seuraa? *big brown puppy eyes*

● A tattoo artist
Problem: I can’t draw.

● A freaking awesome vegan chef/confectioner
Ulterior motive: I’m going to lure Davey Havok into my restaurant and amaze him with my ridiculously amazing muffin making skills. In his sugar high he’ll hire me as AFI’s private tour chef.

● A bassist or a singer in a punk band
Work to do: This is so going to happen once I sound even half as great as Erica Daking.

● A gore/horror writer
Note: It will all be gay.

● A model
Note: It would have to be this kind of rock-modeling.
Problem: I’m 154 cm. And, seriously, with this face? I may be cute in this fucking annoying quinea pig sort of way, but I’m not THAT pretty.

● A clothes designer
Problem: No way in hell I’m going to spend three more years of my life being in school.

● A spontaneously rich person
Work to do: Trace your family tree. There has to be someone old and rich who I can inherit.
Option No. 2: Start lottoing.

● A vampire
Note: Not this ridiculous oh-look-at-me-I-sparkle! -Twilight sort of vampire, but more in the gothic lines of Anne Rice and Poppy Z. Brite.
Remember: Everytime you say “I don’t believe in vampiros”, one vampiro will DIE.

● A demon hunter
Ulterior motive: I just wanna hang out with Sam and Dean.
Conflict: Who the fuck wants to be both a vampire AND a demon hunter?
Note: This is MY wish list. I can put anything I want in it, even fictional boogeyman chasers.

● A British/Irish/Scottish person
?: ???

● A beautiful gay man
?: ???

● An inventor of a time machine
Where to go: 1995, Bay Area, CA; November 25th, 1994, Finland; October 14th, 1994, Finland; 1992, Blackwood, Wales; 1988, Seattle, WA; 1977, London, England; August 14th, 1975, England; July 30th, 1954, Memphis, TN.

Congratulations, Jesse! You win The Quote of the Year Award!

No trust can be given freely, it's a valuable commodity,
but obviously this is something you've never learned.

Faith is something that you put in friends, and had I excess morals to lend,
I'd let you borrow them, but my trust you haven't earned.

We've got a problem? First of all there is no "we", I'm detached from you completely.
I've got a problem. You tell lies to my friends and think it won't get back to me.

No bond can ever seem to make a stable fit in our relationship,
but one thing that never comes between us is honesty.

When you've got something to say, you always seem to find a way to avoid the truth or instead, avoid me.

We've got a problem? First of all there is no "we", I'm detached from you completely.
I've got a problem. You tell lies to my friends and think it won't get back to me.

Straight up is how you'll see me stand, but it is never in your plans to be straight forward,
so instead, you use deceit.

Now I would like to take apart what you've been breaking from the start.
I'll remain intact, I won't be broken in defeat.

We've got a problem? First of all there is no "we", I'm detached from you completely.
I've got a problem. You tell lies to my friends and think it won't get back to me.
No trust!

(AFI - He Who Laughs Last...)

Neljä Word-sivullista kaikensorttista masentavuutta eri fandomeista.

~~~

The people around him were all alien. He felt like he had been cracked into a million pieces but had been glued together again. He didn't want to be stuck together anymore, he wanted to fall apart.

The stupidest part of all was that some tiny little part of him wanted to cry and he didn´t know why.

The thought actually made him laugh, but by the time he'd had some considerable amusement, tears were running down his cheeks, and he was too sad to remember the joke.

The stone beneath his fingers was cool and smooth, and he was arguing with himself, and he didn't even remember what the argument was about.
(Bond by Anna Fugazzi)

Pity is such a remorseless, wrenching thing. Something you offer when you see something weak, and cannot summon up the energy for contempt. Something so far away from love.
(Underwater Light by Maya)

Harry was incredibly tired. Not the sort of tired that was 'I need to sleep. I can't keep my eyes open.' but more like 'I don't want to be here anymore. I don't think I can stand to keep my eyes open without them welling up with tears.'
(Beautiful World by Cinnemon)

The boy's grey eyes were so sad and Harry's mind informed him that it was not fair, no one as young as them should have that look in their eyes. The thing was he had seen it before, he saw it every day when he looked in the mirror.
(Gold Tinted Spectacles by Beren (aka Didi))

"I'm perfectly fine," he said firmly, refusing to acknowledge the tears that were making their way down his cheeks.
He wished he didn't feel so very cold.
(Absolution by Rushlight)

He thinks bleeding is a lot like flying. Every time, he bleeds a little more and makes sure none of it lands on his crisp white sheets. More than once he notices that the blood matches the red duvet on his bed. Ironic, really, he thinks as a few drops disappear and converge with the blanket. Sometimes he heals the wounds but other times he lets them heal naturally; scar his skin. He likes to look at them. They bring him happiness and a little bit of pain.
(Book of Shadows by Lux)

Usually it's nothing but Harry likes to pretend that someone would come looking for him if he did disappear. As much as he wants to be left alone, he also likes to dream about someone caring about him and looking for him. It feels insane to him that he's so indecisive about his feelings.
(Book of Shadows by Lux)

He hurts himself because there's no one else to do it. He never thought that he would like pain so much. But maybe it's not the pain that is so fulfilling, maybe it's that he does it. He does it to himself. He can stop when he wants, he can whisper the safe-word when it becomes too much for him. At the same time, though, he doesn't know when to stop and he doesn't know what the safe-word is.
(Book of Shadows by Lux)

"I'm not insane," he whispers. "Crazy, perhaps, but insanity can only be proclaimed by a court of law." He begins to laugh and laughing feels so right so he keeps doing it until he thinks that maybe he is insane.
(Book of Shadows by Lux)

Every evening I would look into those empty eyes, wondering if he could hear me, if he simply was unable to react or so withdrawn into himself that it did not matter at all whether or not I was here.
Every evening I would feel myself die a little more.
(To Regain Lost Time by lordhellebore)

And, most of all, happiness was seeing the shadow of a smile on the lips of a man who probably did not even know that he was smiling, or why. Sometimes, I allowed myself to imagine that he smiled because of me.
(To Regain Lost Time by lordhellebore)

Harry wants to say, 'can't you see the darkness in the cracks of the wall, under the doorstep?' He can't. He sits down at a checked tablecloth and eats apple pie that tastes of dust and ashes.
(Black Story by Jay Tryfanstone)

Draco wishes illusions didn't have to be shattered before you could grow up and start being real.
(Broken Down by halfofme)

"What were you dreaming about, I wonder?"
Dreaming...
No. No.
Something inside Harry seemed to crack open at the question, sucking the last of his soul away.
(A Fracture of the Mind's Eye by Rushlight)

He shivers and curls up further into the corner. Maybe he'll be lucky and freeze to death, they won't find him for a week and it'll be okay.
(As Children Often Do by Lux)

They were all just dolls at a tea party, animated by psychopathic children who forced words in their mouths and made them dance to whatever tune they chose, and when the game was over they were thrown in the corner, dirty, broken, unloved; forgotten.
(The Playroom)

I'm doing this for a purpose, but sometimes at night the agony overwhelms me, and I find myself kneeling pathetically on the hard flagstones, wishing there was a higher power I could pray to, someone to ask for forgiveness.
(Dragonweed by Penguin)

Tobias lifted his eyes and scanned his own personal hell. Not one willing to stop what they knew was happening. Not one. Tobias wondered fleetingly whether if he cried out to God, God would have don't involve me plastered on his fucking forehead, too.
(Cat and Mouse at lovethatdares.com)

"Will you hold my hand in there?" Davey asked. "I don't want to die alone."
(Auschwitz: Finding Love In Hell. by IceAngel)

Robin turns back towards him. "Nice."
Wilson smiles, attempting to look at ease, and gives a mild shrug. "It'll do."
The story of my life, he thinks bitterly.
(Reverberation by cryptictac)

"I finally came up with an answer to my own question."
"Question, what question?"
"Am I happy. I know the answer."
"Where are you?"
"I'm not happy."
"Where. Are. You?"
"I'm not happy and I never really have been. I've just been putting up, playing with masks, trying to find one to suit me. But I couldn't. Do you know why?"
"I'm not kidding.."
"Neither am I. I couldn't find a mask because masks aren't real, and I'm real. I am."

In his dreams, Donnie doesn't think at all. He just takes Frank's blank slate of a face in his hands and presses it to his. Closes his eyes and kisses that regretful mouth and doesn't think about the fact that he can taste blood.
(He Dreams)

Davey reached his hand up and touched it to Adam's cheek for comfort. He really didn't know what to say to him to make him feel better because everything that people said to those that were losing loved ones were just polite statements because in reality there really was nothing you could say to take the pain away or make a loss hurt less.
(Permanent by Havoksangel)

He felt empty now. He no longer wanted to get out of here. Now he wanted more than anything to be seen. He wanted someone to notice him and hold him like the secretary had done, tell him that it would be all right. That he wasn't alone. That maybe he even mattered.
(Days Before You Came by Trillie)

He could taste himself as they savoured him, not just his anatomy but his thoughts, his feelings, and his panic tasted like battery acid.
(Days Before You Came by Trillie)

Jade laid the rose down gently next to Hunter's pale hand, wiping tears away from his eyes furiously.
"Be careful of the thorns," Jade whispered, voice cracking as he stood up abruptly. "I know you've always loved roses, but you've got to look out for the thorns."
(But you promised me by scarredsodeep)

“I wonder what she’ll do when you realize you can’t run from yourself anymore. When you can’t keep up with this lie anymore. You know you will. You live in fear of that fact. You’ve gotten yourself so deep in your denial that you’re drowning in it. And God knows I won’t be the one to save you this time.”
(Lies by sparkinside)

He figured out a long time ago that he would always be stuck in a box, clawing at the walls to try and break free as everyone around him watched in disappointment.
(Definitions by Maj)

It was that someone could live this way, and never once show any signs that they were suffering. That someone could endure this sort of existence, and still smile at the rest of the world, still laugh at the rest of the world, feeling completely hollow and empty, never knowing what it was like to smile and really mean it.

Finally he just kept going, almost like a violinist swiping his bow across the instrument, playing a lovely, pretty tune. Yet Jade was no artist, and there was no music. There was nothing beautiful about this. It was ugly. Just as he was.

It only made him hate himself that much more. That his pain and insecurities were so visible, letting others know immediately that he was not worth the effort, and had never been worth the effort.

What do they want from him? What is it that he’s apparently supposed to be doing, because he had always thought that he was trying? Short of slitting his wrists and telling everyone around him to drink, to take every drop of him into themselves until there is nothing left of him, he’s not sure what else he can do. He’s not sure if there’s anything left of him to take.
(Mahlus Gardens by Maj)

Everyone thinks he’s nothing but a liar, a fake, when he’s not. Sometimes he just wants to stand before them and rip his own heart out, hold it out to them so they can see every beat, every twitch, that way they would know that he does have a heart. That he does feel.

He can feel that his body is on the verge of betraying him, but yet he cannot find the motivation to do what he needs to do to protect it, to nourish it.
It is somewhat difficult to find a reason to take care of himself, though, when there is nothing to look forward to, in general.

He is reminded of his most fatal flaw of all; his sensitivity to the things that have not personally happened to him. He has been slighted, tossed around, burned more times than he can count, yet it is the things like abandoned parks that sits heavily on his heart. It is the things such as empty swing sets and dry, brittle leaves that brings tears to his eyes, that makes him weep for so much loss and rejection.
You don’t have a heart, he’s been told several times before. You care for nothing. You feel nothing.
That isn’t true. He’s just missing that spark, that remote part of the brain that allows connection to the living and the breathing.
He cares. Just about the wrong things.

A suspicion clicks into place, he thinks shit, Tosh, and starts stroking her hair.
“It will all be ok,” he whispers, and for one horrible moment, he can’t remember who he’s talking to.
(That Old Black Magic by paperclipbitch)