Nikkaliah

The Mystery and Melancholy of a Street -Prologue- Sherlock BBC x Alice: Madness Returns Title based on Giorgio de Chirico's 1914 Surrealist painting of the same name. 'Underneath this reality in which we live and have our being, another and altogether different reality lies concealed.' -Friedrich Nietzsche 1. Sherlock never tells anyone about his dreams, not even John. He finds it rather embarrassing, really, to admit to having something that dominates his brain function at night and allows it to run rampage among the illogicality of the subconscious, an aspect of which he deems incredibly unnerving. He cannot fathom the notion of

Dean, after looking all throughout Bobby's house, wandered out to salvage yard in search of (y/n). As soon as he opened door he heard the sound of "Shoot to Thrill" blasting off in the distance. Wandering toward the sound he discovered (y/n) lying in front seats of a rusted and beat up cherry red '58 Plymouth Fury. As he got closer to the car he could hear the sound of (y/n) voice singing along to every word. "Mind if I join the rockfest?" he asked opening the door. "Hmmm...depends on whether or not you're gonna make me move." She said without opening her eyes as she continued to pretend to play the drums. "Now why would I ever do that?

Everyday I wake up. Somedays, I consider that to be my great accomplishment. Everyday I sleep less. Somedays, I feel my heart start to pound and sleep is not recaptured. I'm living in a bubble. Waiting for the pin to drop and let me out. I don't know how to describe how I feel, because I'm not very good with words. In my mind, I'm able to say everything perfectly. In my mind, everything I think is exactly what I mean. But in the quick trip between my mind and my mouth, there is a short and it comes out jumbled.   [can you understand me now?] Sleep is where I recapture perfection.   Sleep that I push off until the last second, b

“Gods, (F/n). How did you get yourself into this?” you outwardly asked yourself, trudging aimlessly through the charred, dead forest that you had come terribly accustomed to. The only landmark that you had to go on in this desolate land was a monstrous mountain, its beauty juxtaposed by the ugly woods that dotted the countryside. “There is an enormous mountain to guide you and yet you still managed to get lost!” This wasn’t the first time you had become hopelessly lost in a completely foreign landscape, and you sincerely doubted that it would be the last. That’s if I ever find my way about of here, you tho