It Feels Like Static

   “A fight is going on inside me; it is a terrible fight between two wolves.

   One is evil – it is anger, envy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority, and ego.

   The other is good – it is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion, and faith.

   The same fight is going on inside you – and inside every other person, too.”

                 “Which wolf will win?”

    “The one you feed.”

Natalie Dormer as Jamie Moriarty

Penelope Wayne: Former Robin, Former Talon, Current Badass

Thomas Kyle: Former Catlad, Still a Thief, Currently Bobcat

They aren’t from this Gotham, or this Earth, and now they’re stuck.

Multimuse Multiverse OC Blog

Yes, the news that Clare Foley being replaced is extremely sad. 

But whatever actress replaces her is not to blame, and should not be on the receiving end of fan outrage. They didn’t actively try to oust Clare, and if you think that an up and coming actress or even an established one can turn down a role easily, they can’t. They’re simply trying to do a job. 

Think of them like an understudy. Maybe they aren’t the start you came to see in this Broadway play, but that doesn’t mean they won’t do their best and that you should boo them for not being someone else.

“But does this mean I can’t be sad about Clare being replaced or express that?!” Heck no! Tweet her, tweet the show, tell them how bummed you are (she’s a young girl, I don’t know how much her parents let her have free reign on her twitter account, so just keep that in mind). Let them and her know how much you’ll miss her!!

That being said? This new Ivy is probably gonna have a Twitter, and that twitter is NOT the appropriate place to launch your complaints at. Tweeting things at this new actress like “I miss clare bring her back instead” is just rude. I’m not saying don’t have an opinion, just know who it should be directed to. Who actually has control over these things. And neither Clare nor the new Ivy are that person. This decision came from VERY high up, and even if those High Ups don’t have a twitter where you can express your dismay, don’t default it down to people who can’t do anything about if, even if they wanted to, like the actors. 

Even if you don’t like the new actress, don’t use Clare as a weapon against her, please. Women have enough problems with being used this way, let alone outside of the acting profession. And again, keep in mind that these are TEENAGE GIRLS in the ACTING BUSINESS. They have, on a daily basis, enough grown ups in their profession pitting them against each other in the worst kinds of ways, and a bunch of other hurdles to deal with. 

Don’t add to that. Be better than that. Be good fans. 

Jean felt full, full of power she didn’t understand at all. And yet, she felt entirely empty–like apocalypse broke a dam in her that could not be quelled. What filled her wasn’t good. She felt her stomach tumble nervously as she tried to settle in to sleep. The dreams still came. Maybe Apocalypse was right–maybe I am the destruction. She hadn’t told Charles about the dreams although he’d appeared in the night to help calm her several times. Tonight, she wouldn’t get that far.

Jean sighed and slid out of bed. She pulled out the key to the roof that she had swiped from Charles’ desk (it was an accepted offense) and headed to her semi-secret spot. The people who knew to find her here were few and far between. 

Jean pulled out her cigarettes and lit one. She enjoyed the heat of the smoke and, more than anything else, the silence. It was a calm unlike any other in the day. She could hear the crickets chirping in the summer heat and fireflies danced in the empty yard. She wished the beauty touched her but instead she felt nothing. She was white noise personified

Jeanette had seen the redheaded girl through the school on various occasions. She knew her as Jean Grey, but had never had the chance to properly meet her. It had been recent that she’d seen some changes about her; the way she held herself, the conflict in her eyes. Jeanette wasn’t a mind reader but she could read people. 

hoarse “good morning”s whispered in the soft dawn light, hands clumsily finding each other through the haze of sleep

sprawled out on the couch together, marathoning so-bad-theyre-good sci-fi movies, flicking popcorn at each other to try to catch in their mouths at commercial breaks

dancing on hardwood floors in fuzzy socks, catching one another when they slide too far (the tall one stopping to argue- “you’re wearing my socks” “no i’m not” “they come up to your knees!” “… that proves nothing”)

curled under a shared blanket on the couch, watching scary movies far later than advisable, clinging tighter to one another at each jumpscare