VIVIDITY! i'll paint your world.

I got kinda bored so i decided to make some. enjoy.


 
 
 
 

Josh peck has gone and turned in to a HOTTIE.


Proof.

and this amazing fake trailer made by someone with a little too much time on there hands.

What can i say? I love Third Eye Blind.


Any who, here are a few qoutes for the few of you that actually take the time to read my blog.





May the sun shine, all day long,
everything go right, and nothing wrong.
May those you love bring love back to you,
and may all the wishes you wish come true!
+ + Irish Blessing



Why is it everyone looks at him & doesn't see
how wonderful he is? Cause I saw it the first time
I laid eyes on him. I don`t think I knew it then,
but I guess I was falling in love.




Being without you takes a lot of getting used to.
I should learn to live with it, but I don't want to.




i wanna be the girl who he thinks is the cutest. not necassarily the "hottest" or the "prettiest", but the cutest. because hotness refers to the body, and god knows mine isn't perfect. pretty refers to the face and i know plenty of girls prettier than me. but cuteness is refering to every imperfection that he loves. every weird little habit. the funny little things that make me different from every other girl he could have. like how i have a dorky laugh, or i can't watch gory movies. or the way my hair smells. all of the little things that he notices and adores. i wanna be that girl.







When we meet again, we'll probably talk about the
weather cause that's what people do when they grow apart
And that's what we'll do when we grow apart

 

It's a dark night on the West Coast
then a soft breeze as the sun rose,
then the phone rang like a gunshot
like a siren on the beach rock.
there's a message at the river,
a certain package here to deliver
when the day breaks after nightfall,
I will be there, you know I will.



our time is running farther and farther away.
soon it will be gone,
and that alone won't push me to gather up the nerve
and put my feelings into words for you.
I just don't understand why my thoughts won't just pour themselves
out to you, for you to consume and understand
that you're really & truly what I want right now.
that I like you so much that i'm so intimidated that I can't bring myself to tell you.






she was a woman of such grace and style and even
when she was being ridiculous, there was always
this intelligence behind it.






may you grow up to be righteous, may you grow up to be true.
may you always know the truth and see the lights surrounding you.
may you always be courageous, stand upright and be strong.
may you stay forever young





We'll drive in the fast lane out on the freeway
Tell us to slow down starts a car chase.
As long as we've got each other we've
Got it made





"Take off your shoes, come in the room
And baby, let's try not to argue.
Turn out the lights, turn on the radio
And how can we fight when I'm too busy loving you?"

-she's a lady; Forever the sickest Kids.

The more you get to know a person,
the more attractive they become to you.
Because everything beautiful you see on
the inside of them, suddenly you're able
to see on the outside of them too.

 

 

 

 

 

Short Fluff-filled DASEY one shot for you guys :].





Sucking on the cancer stick in my hand, I looked at my step-sister of eleven years and smiled when I saw the look on her face. I dragged the smoke slowly out of my pursed lips and licked them.

“They’re called cancer sticks for a reason, derek.” she commented with a roll of her gorgeous blue eyes, looking away.

I took another deep suck on my cigarette and blew it into her face. Her arms flailed haphazardly around her face, coughing up something bad. “Derek! What do you think you are doing, jackass? Haven't you ever heard that passive smokers die faster than the smoker himself?”

“Tsk, tsk. Casey Mcdonald, was that a curse word i heard?”

I laughed loudly before resetting myself beside her on the bench. “Those things will kill you, Derek.” Her tone was a bit softer this time and I knew she was serious. It wasn’t that I didn’t know about the consequences but come on, we’re all gonna die anyway sooner or later, right?

“Whats your problem with it? You’re not allergic to it so what…” before I could continue, she cut in with a deep frown on her slightly freckled face. A face I often dream about at night only to have her running away from me when i awoke.

“I just gave you what…the MAIN reason why I have a problem with it and you’re still asking that retarded question?”

“We’re all gonna die anyway—”

“Yeah, well excuse me for wanting my step brother to live long enough so that I can" she paused, hesitant "you know what? Forget it. I’m leaving.” She grabbed her books and shoved them into her  bag as she stood up to leave. There was a catch in her voice I couldn’t help but overhear and I didn’t want her to leave before explaining it.

“So that you can what, case?” I grabbed her hand to stop her from walking away.

“Let me go, Derek.” She struggled against my hold, and despite her recent atheletic training, I was still stronger than her.

“Not until you tell me what you wanted to say.”

“Why do you want to know so much, huh? .” There was that catch in her voice again.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I frowned, loosening my grip...just a little.

I sensed her weakening her strong front as she faced me. Her blue eyes seemed to have lost there sparkle and she suddenly looked really tired.

“You want to know what I was going to say?” her voice was surprisingly  harder than ever, despite her appearance. Without waiting for my nod, she barrelled on. “So that I can do this.” She swooped down and placed her lips on mine. Surprise didn’t cover what I was feeling as the cigarette fell from my fingers. I clumsily stood up pushing her away from me.

“Hey…” an almost shy expression clouded her perpetual frown. Her lips were slightly parted, lilting at the edges.

My hand made its way to her neck as I pulled her towards me, our lips crushing against each other once again.

Holy mother of…I’m kissing my step-sister. Casey McDonald whom i bag on constantly  and fight with on a daily basis. Casey Mcdonald who gave me a frog for my eighteenth birthday after she found out that I had a slightly embarissing phobia of amphibians. Casey... who at this instant had her very incredible lips on mine and her hands buried in my hair, pulling me even closer, leaving no gaps between us. Holy mother…

How can a kiss be gentle and demanding at the same time?

This time, she was the one who pulled away. I put my forehead against her cooler one and noted that both of us were breathless. “I want to be able to do that without the taste of nicotine in my mouth.” She whisphered between intakes of breath.

“That can be arranged.” I said before giving her a gentle kiss.

Cold turkey or not, smoking is in my past now.

DEGRASSI:
JIBERTY - JT//Liberty.






SPEPPER - Toby//Manny




CRASH - Craig//Ashley




MELLIE- Marco//Ellie




Life With Derek:

DASEY- Derek//Casey




Kyle X-Y:
JANDY- Josh//Andy






ZOEY 101:
QOUGAN- Quinn//Logan



ICARLY:
SEDDIE- Sam//Freddie



Secret life of the american teenager:
HASHLEY: Henry//Ashley

[this one was hard to find a pic for :| ]





BEMY-Ben//Amy







I support a bunch more, but these would be my main loves ;D.

'Starring ASHLEY LEGGAT ;].


 




Geez...i have too much time on my hands.

For my lack of posting you guys. I've been mega-busy with drivers training the last 3 days or so. But i've returned to you all with a picture post that i hope with make up for it. Enjoy!


















 


As always, no need to credit me. :]

Writers note: This is my first try at a Dasey "story", So bear with me. To avoid confusion, It takes place when Derek and Casey are both in there early twenties, in there last years of college. 




“This was a bad idea” I mutter to myself as I shove my hands deeper into my down-filled jacket in an attempt to stay warm.

Snowflakes swirl between the buildings and dust the frozen, muddied ground. Standing in the parking lot of Kemptville College, my school of choice, leaning against my car, I check my watch for the sixth time. He's fifteen minutes late and he wasn’t answering his cell. He wasn’t coming.

I smile awkwardly at a group of students walking by that I recognize from high school. One makes a joke about being on her turf. I laugh as if her sarcastic barb is actually funny. Right now I’d give anything to be back on my own turf, in the safety of my own home, his home, too, pretending everything is under control. Nothing is under control; it’s all a tangled mess.

I jump as the phone in my hand rings. I look at the caller ID. It’s him. I could ignore it. I could leave and he wouldn’t know I had come. We could stand each other up. I force myself to answer it. He’s in Hudson Hall and he’ll come find me. I hang up. And wait.

Waiting seemed to be a theme with us. He had waited for me to figure things out last year when we decided we needed a break from the drama, the secrecy, the lie our lifes had become. And I had waited for him to come home for Christmas between semesters at The University of New Brunswick, 10,000 miles away. and Now here I was, standing in the January snow, waiting. For what? Answers? Forgiveness? I don’t know what possessed me to agree to this.

Would he be different? He sounded different on the phone. Grown-up, assertive, maybe even...for the first time in his life..sure of something. But why did he have to go all the way across the country to find all that? Ofcourse, the idiocracy   that  was derek was still there. It had surfaced last night when he was re-telling his latest tale of drunken stupidity, interlaced with a shockingly new-found scholarly vocabulary. Damn, I had missed him.

I hear my name, spoken like a question and slightly hesitant, from somewhere behind me.

“Casey.”

I push back the hood of my jacket, feeling the wind attack my hair. Turning around, I look up and take in the hazel eyes and the sun streaked hair of Derek Venturi. My Step brother.

The facial hair was new, but the sarcastic smirk that now covered his face was not. My heart pounds as I recognize the red shirt he's wearing as one I had bought for him.

I wait as his gaze lingers on my wind tossed hair , my jacket,  my suede lace up boots, my new glasses. Then, It stops on the puzzle ring on my right hand, which I am now nervously running through my hair. I was different too, but would he see that? Would he realize that he had broken through my walls at last, from thousands of miles away? He finally looks me in the eye.

“Hey.”

Then everything comes back. All the fun, the fights... all the pain. I remember the night he carried me home from a party - one of my first, after i had niavely took a cup of tequila from a guy who seemed nice enough, and the night he had stayed up all night with me watching re-runs of Sex and the City when lizzie wouldn't- but only because he was unaware that anyone, even fictional, could have more shoes than the ones in my closet.

A vision flashes in my mind of that afternoon, it had been two weeks before December exams and we sat on a bench in the park. He knew what was coming. I felt pressured and caged and restless and he knew I would never tell him that. I didn’t tell him anything; I left him with no explanation. I look away and will myself not to cry. I didn’t cry when I broke up with him, and I won’t do it now. He puts a finger under my chin and tips my head up to look at him. He makes a joke about how short I am, but thats only because he's gotten so tall. I laugh like I did all those months ago when everything was almost-perfect.

Another group of people walk by, glancing at the two of us. So much for privacy. To anyone who didn’t know, we look like any normal couple. But we’re not, we are so far from ‘normal’ and ‘couple’, its ridiculous.

“I leave tomorrow”, he says, not  breaking eye contact. He’s waiting to see if I can work my thoughts around the answer that’s not really an answer, rather a statement of the obvious. He’s giving me an out.

“And then?” I don’t walk away.

“We go back to our lives, case.” He says it like a death sentence. Final. Cold. "the way they were, before, i mean"

“So this changes nothing?” Is he saying what I think he’s saying? Did he just wake up yesterday and decide that his last day in town would be best spent breaking my heart?

“I can’t do this again. You can’t do this again.” God, if I were in prison this is where the guards would slam the barred door shut.

“Then what do you want? Why do this at all?” I gestured around us.

He knew this was hard. I was laying my pride and dignity and common sense on the line. This was cruel.

“I wanted to give you closure. You wanted forgiveness. I forgive you. But, case, we can’t do this again. We tore each other apart last time.” He reaches out and rubs my cheek. I hadn’t realized I was crying.

“I didn’t want to hurt you.” I wrap my arms around myself and look away. There’s a frozen puddle just behind him.

“I know” he says matter a factly.

“This was a bad idea” I tell him. I have no idea how I am even capable of forming full sentences at the moment. I hope he slips on that puddle.

“Maybe” he says, watching me. I can’t help but swipe angrily at my eyes.

I don’t have anything left to say. Every thought I had rehearsed on my way here seems useless now. My heart is cracking and he’s rambling on about going back to "being brother and sister", or something equally stupid and illogical but I can’t listen. I can’t be near him right now.

“I have to go” I blurt out, interrupting him.

“Oh. Yeah. Sure.” He answers and his voice pitches an octave higher than normal. I look up and see what can't be tears in his eyes.

“Have a good flight” I tell him, fumbling in my pockets, looking for my car keys. I need to get away. I can’t deal with people right now. People suck.

“I’ll call you later.” Is he serious? I stare at him incredulously.

“No, don’t. I can’t do this again.” And I can’t. He can’t give me pieces without the whole thing.

“I understand” he says softly, catching me off guard in a brotherly hug.

"i'll see you at easter" he whisphers

and i nod, unable to control my voice any longer. He walks away once I climb in my car. I wait until I know he won’t come back before gripping the steering wheel and breaking down.

“I understand”, he had said.

“No, you don’t” I say out loud, feeling the echo in the emptiness of my car.
 

Created in PSP8. Credit does belong to yours truly...

DASEY style ;D.



I know it kinda sucks, seeing as how Micheals face color doesn't match his neck. But hey - I tried :D.

Created in PSP8. All credit does go to me. :]

1.I'm full of regret for all things that I've done and said and I
don't know if it'll ever be okay to show my face around here.
Sometimes I wonder if I disappear, would you ever turn your head and
look, see if I'm gone? Cause I fear there is nothing left to say to you that
you wanna hear, that you wanna know. I think I should go,
the things I've done are way too shameful.


2.in the depth of winter, i finally learned that
within me there lay an invincable summer.


3.the only thing worse than having
your heart broken, is breaking your own.

4.the only reason why you don't have
answers is because you're too scared
to ask yourself the right question.


5.most of the time, i was a shy kid and i was afraid
what i said sounded stupid, so i hardly ever said
anything. i was the third wheel. fifth wheel? i was
the fucking wheel you didn't really need but i still
hung around. i thought maybe my silence would
one day impress somebody. as of yet, it hadn't
done much for me.



6.this is about love. this about you and me. me and you. and
how we didn't make it. how we both just liked the idea of each
other. never each other. and now i like the idea of someone
else, and you actually love someone else. and i'm glad. you're lucky.


7.Living wasn't easy for you, was it?
You couldn't enter your own life,
but you could be someone else.
You weren't you then, you were safe.



8.you can't lose what you've never had. when you dont like your situation, you leave it or overthrow it. you cant just stand around and whine about it. people just get aware of your noise, they dont really get aware of you.
even if they give you what you want,  its only because your making so much noise.
then you want something else, and something else, and something else,
until it isnt a joke anymore,.
whoever your protesting against finally gets fed up and stomps on everybody,
you can go around trying to bring up people who are lesser than you,
but dont forget your messing around with gravity.
i do believe in equality but i also believe in distance.-bob dylan



9.there's beauty in walking away.




10.Sometimes enough is enough. You need to stand up for what is right, and what is wrong.
You need to tell people to screw off, because this is your own life.
Don't let people take control over you, because sooner or later, everyone will try.

           
  


   

                  
   

 

Okay. That's it for T'Day folks.
Do with em' what you want.
No need to credit me.

'T'

he’s my drug,the deadly addiction I silently vow to quit but never will. right now I need him too much...No, not him. I refuse to be too dependent on anyone. So no, I don’t need him-I need this. I need to not think, to let the numbness I’ve been feeling for the past 6 long months fade away, just for a little while. Just a little while to feel normal. To feel like my only problem at the moment is to worry about getting caught, getting caught being here-being here with him. I need to feel like that’s my only issue; I need to be caught up in a moment, even in a moment as meaningless as this.
In this moment that revolves around heated kisses, wandering hands, adrenaline rushes, and my swollen stomach bumping against his very toned one. With teenage hearts hammering in are chests at the knowledge that what is going on at this very moment is both very wrong and very right at the same time.
Of course the wrong long out weighs the right, as it undoubtedly does in cases such as these. Right now, I should be in my booth, running sound for this Godforsaken play. I should be reflecting on the events of the past few months. I should be coming to terms with my pregnancy, the nause and morning sickness. all that jazz. I should be allowing myself to forgive noah for abandoning me. I should be trying to see things from his point of view. I should be trying to feel anything other than utter hate for him and his “new and improved” girlfriend. I should be trying my very best to deal with jacksons illness, comforting him, telling him things will be fine-that he’ll be fine, even when I, myself believe that things really won’t be fine, not this time, anyway. I should be dealing with a million other things other than this.
i should be anywhere but here, in a booth with Andrew riley, pushing all the “shoulds” in my life to the very back of my mind by indulging in this second sinful act against God.
but he's addicting. and I really can’t help but wonder sometimes if things might have turned out differently between him and i if i hadn't gotten pregnant, if jackson hadn’t gotten sick, if my life hadn’t completely gone to shit. Maybe if things hadn’t turned out the way they did we might have actually had something more than this simple animalistic attraction. Maybe just maybe I would have been addicted to him for reasons other then his scent (resembling some type of masculine shampoo) or his physical attractiveness (a chisled face with stunning blue eyes and his hair, jet black, ). Maybe I wouldn’t have keep coming back for his taste, or his all around knowledge of where to put his delicate hands. Maybe instead of those things, I would have kept coming back because I liked the way he spoke. Or the way he smiles at me when I tell a joke. Or maybe just maybe I could have kept coming back because I was in love with him.
But we don’t talk. I don’t tell jokes. he doesn’t smile, and this isn’t love.
All I know of him is his taste, his smell, and the fact that if I apply just the right amount of pressure to the point where his lips meet mine he pulls me closer to him, Inviting me to to use him, to take out all my anger at the things in my life out on him.
I’m sure there’s something he wants to forget too, possibly a someone. A first love perhaps. I really don’t know, like I said before, we don’t talk. We simply use each other for a single lustful moment and when that moment is done, we mutter our goodbyes, and go back to our separate lives.
For a little while anyway.
just until the high wears off and we find ourselves needing a little pick-me-up. Then we seek each other out, drop whatever the hell we’re doing and 'get down to business'. There are no “oh honey you had a bad day?” conversations, or any talking at all for that matter. Conversations about bad days and troubles at home are things for people in an actual relationship, for people in love.
We are not in love.
We will never be in love.
We were over before we began.
We never stood a chance.
he is my drug, my addiction, what keeps me grounded.
I may not love him, but I do love the way he is capable of making me feel: like everything is fine, like i'm not 6 months pregnant, like jackson will be okay. And most importantly I love the way he makes me forget that before I met him, I had to make myself bleed to feel alive.
and I almost love him for that, almost.
But I don’t, it’s like I said before, we never stood a chance.

 When i begin a story, i always begin it in the middle - and i can never seem to find an ending nor a beginning. So, it usually stays that way. Just an ending. No start, no end. Anyway - heres one i began working on the other day...

The morning after our break up began differently than any day before. I woke up, stretched my freckled arms above my head, and realized that for the first time in a long time, i didn't have to reach for the cellphone on my dresser and call you to make sure you were awake.
Unfortunately, as i pressed my hands to my face i also realized that my eyes were swollen to the touch and that my head felt like it had been run over by a bus; the side affects of having literally cried myself to sleep. After gingerly climbing out of my tangled red cotton sheets, i carefully planted my feet on the cold wood floor, feeling a wave of nasuea run through my body almost instantly. I ignored it, and stood up, walking to my already-open closet. As i fingered through the rainbow selection of sweaters and polyester shirts with dangerously low necklines, my eyes fell upon a worn out, gray, long forgotten sweatshirt wadded into a ball at the very back. i keeled down and pulled it out of the corner, shaking the dust and some of the wrinkles out of it before pulling it over my messy head of brown hair. The garment ended neatly above the knees of my pink pajama pants, and conceled my swollen stomach nicely. i avoided meeting my reflection's eyes as i looked into the full length mirror next to my bedroom door, the sturdy line of my lips slowly cracking into a questionable smile. my hair was a tangle of fiery untamed curls, the sweatshirt smelled of mothballs, and yet, i felt strangely liberated, maybe even beautiful. For the first time in three years, i did not have to worry about what i was wearing. Comfortability, not sexuality, i relized, could come first.

So, ladies and gentlemen...there you have it. One of my many, nameless, beginning-less, end-less storys.

As far as adjectives go, i'm outspoken. I'm stubborn. I'm observant. I'm loud. i'm quiet. I'm happy. I'm guarded. I'm classy. Im blunt. but perfect? Not even close, then again who said i was trying to be? Sorry, but im not like those individuals who drop their dignity and morals at your feet. If you're looking for someone mysterious and unreadable, I'm the wrong girl. The saddest people I've ever met in my life are the ones who don't care deeply about anything at all. Passion and satisfaction go hand in hand. and without them, happiness is only temporary because there's nothing there to make it last. I love to hear people talk about what their most passionate about, because that's when you see people at their best. I believe in no-bullshit answers and saying what you feel. The only time you should cry is when you laugh too hard. I believe in being young and carefree. I beleive in blasting my music and singing off key. I feel best when I'm all dressed up with nowhere togo. Girls look at me and don't understand how I'm still smiling after all I've been through, but baby, life's too short to be anything but happy. I've learned that sometimes people aren't going to trust you, and it may be for no reason at all. Sometimes, people just judge you on what they think you will do, on who they think you are. And there's really nothing you can do about it. But remember one thing, they're not cheating you, they're cheating themselves. I beleive that flaws are what make people attractive. I beleive in second chances, and happy endings - even if i haven't got mine. I beleive that theres beauty in walking away, and to never look down on someone unless your helping them up. Each morning when I open my eyes, I say to myself: I, not events, have the power to make me happy or unhappy today, and only i can choose which it shall be. Yesterday is dead, tomorrow hasn’t arrived yet. I have just one day, today, and I’m going to be happy with it.

In May, i lost my beautiful baby sister



-to SIDS - [SUDDEN INFANT DEATH SYNDROME] which was, and still continues to be very hard for my family to cope with. This  is a way for me to release myself. An online "getway" for me to say whatever i want to say, about anything i choose, during a time in which i feel i've lost my say in things completely.

 

So, Stay tuned - because maybe, just maybe you won't be dissapointed.
Peace and love,
'T'.