#icarus you outdo yourself

[starjunkyard]

Watched that episode where wilson compared house to god and icarus before house bitterly remarks that god doesn't limp then stalks out of his office . Hey what the fuck you guys

I FEEL CRAZY? LIKE I WATCHED IT LAST NIGHT AND HAVE NOT STOPPED THINKING ABOUT IT SINCE

Why does wilson start crying after house leaves . What was "god doesn't limp" supposed to imply . Does it imply that his leg is the only thing that proves he's just as fallible and mortifyingly human as everyone else and house resents himself for it . Does house resent himself for being human

"If we told you that you'd solved a case based on zero medical proof... you'd think you were God. And... I was afraid that your wings would melt." Are u fucking CRAZY

Their entire relationship revolving on how wholly and entirely devoted they are to each other . Then Wilson using religious metaphors to describe house .Wilson confessing that he's "afraid of house's wings melting" . I'm afraid you're going to kill yourself trying to outdo yourself again and again in the hopes of feeling like your life means something

God . House's entire life isjust him screaming for someone to look at him. Idk . Can't stop thinking about how House will die trying to prove that he's useful for something. die trying to maintain the one thing he thinks makes him worthy of being loved And yet wilson loves him above all without house having to do a single thing . Idc (lying)

#God. God. God #PLEASE TELL ME YR THOUGHTS..... I FEEL LIKE IM GOING CRAZY #If i do not dissect and analyse every piece of subtext and passing comment in this show I Will Die #hate crimes md #house md #hilson #james wilson #gregory house

[goldfincheli]

Things That Remind Me of the Death Note Characters:

Light: late night walks when you feel overwhelmed with aimlessness, the minutiae of life growing unbearable day by day, the drone of the news buzzing in your ears until it’s blotting out anything else, the sudden and abrupt realization that you don’t remember what you felt before this world-weariness, this boredom, ink stains on your hands, recurring nausea and disappointment in humanity, that invisible halo burning the flesh of your back, the desire to make something beautiful and lasting, knowing you’re meant for something grander but lacking the words to define it, the ticking hum of your watch, your jailed thoughts, that ache for the unattainable, shadows following your wake, blacked out words, your myth-making of yourself.

L: the ghastly glow of a monitor illuminating the room, crumbs littering a desk, those frequent moments when you’re awake and the entirety of the world seems asleep, not-so furtive glances and whispering following your wake whenever you go outside, high-rise buildings, sleepless nights scrolling through Wikipedia pages with a hunger that is never appeased, acquaintances but no true friends, hotel rooms, mystery novels, faded jeans, question marks, those moments when you forget your own name, the whir of helicopters, droplets of rain, messy cords, dregs of tea, the intermittent sound of your hands typing out theories with your keyboard in the dark, the echoing peals of bells, how dull absoluteness feels.

Misa: your intense, severe devotion that is hardly ever returned, the wine-dark color of your lip gloss imprinted on envelopes, the bright neon stickers that you attach to every notebook you get, charms rattling against your cell phone, contact lenses, the fading memories of your happy childhood that you greedily try to keep, when you were young and believed in the love potions of fairy tales and how you never really managed to grow out of it, tarot cards, parroting the lines of the lead actress in every movie you watch and reciting them with uncanny ease, that black cat you insisted on having lounging around your bedroom because you were damned for misfortune anyway, that long and winding road you avoid when it’s dark, amor vincit omnia.

Mello: the scent of kerosene burning in your lungs, clutching your fists so tightly that the circulation almost stops, sleepless nights trying to outdo someone who seems so indomitable, the wind in your hair as some unknown artist belts out a tune, feeling untouchable and so recklessly alive as the scenery zips past by you, the image of Icarus flying too close to the sun burning behind your eyelids, chocolate shavings melting off your tongue, learning how to hurt the other children first before they hurt you, those first staggering steps when you master a new skill, the second place trophies and medals that have collected dust lining the back of your room, that heavy tightness in your throat when you have to ask for help.

Near: dossiers, crispy white sheets, a pair of dice, static screens, glue setting on bare skin, unsteady card houses, confined spaces, hand-crafted gifts, fog, spacing out when too immersed in a singular activity for far too long, the telltale sound of shuffling cards, the rustle of long sleeves, not remembering when was the last time you left for the world outside, the caress of your hair against your ears, the clink of ice scattered in glass as it dissolves in pure rushing water, snow blanketing the world as you gaze outside, white noise, optical illusions, dominoes falling in perfect tandem, condensation building on the panes of windows from the sheer cold outside, morning dew, perfect symmetry, telescopes to observe the vast sky.

#Death Note #Light Yagami #L Lawliet #Misa Amane #Mello #Nate River