"I hope you find what you're looking for."
You will see a lot of stuff on here about what I'm writing, as well as what I like and my ships. Oh, and probably a lot of Matthew Fox, just be forewarned.
Ships:
Jack and Kate. Mark and Lexie. Juliet and Sawyer. Harm and Mac. Joey and Pacey. Lucas and Peyton.
After Dominic Monaghan went on twitter and said Matthew Fox had a history of beating women, it was only a matter of time before Fox came out and issued the strongest possible denial. But it’s not that time yet.
Until then, TMZ says that a source says that Fox says–a little too…
@PeterWebber I was casting Dominic Monaghan @DomsWildThings in my next movie till I realised there wasn’t a role for an immature bitter shittalking troll
@PeterWebber @DomsWildThings showbiz rule number one. Don’t diss your co-stars. You broke it. The showbiz cops are coming to bust you :-)
@PeterWebber Well well, that should put the cat amongst the pigeons. Ive had enough of this shit. No-one disses the stars of my movie on my watch :-)
@6.50 - “I’m gonna kill you Dom” - Matthew Fox couldn’t be more accurate.
Evangeline Lilly taking over the interview is HILARIOUS btw.
I went ahead and took screenshots of the entire Dominic Monaghan twitter conversation. If you look at the twitters of the people he’s talking to, they basically just say that he’s lying and Matthew Fox never hit any women. Pretty scary mentality .
I have a hard time believing that Foxy would hit women…just saying.
“You can seek the advice of others, surround yourself with trusted advisers, but in the end, the decision is always yours, and yours alone. And when it’s time to act, and you’re all alone, with your back against the wall, the only voice that matters is the one in your head. The one telling you what you probably already knew. The one that’s almost always right.
“I lied. I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in it’s humiliating because here I am, begging. Okay, here it is. Your choice? It’s simple. Her…or me. And I’m sure she’s really great, but Derek…I love you, in a really, really big, pretend to like your taste in music, let you eat the last piece of cheesecake, hold a radio over my head outside your window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me, choose me, love me.”
(via forever-erica)
(via forever-erica)
only lost will tell you about a story in the first episode
and then bring it up in season three
and then finally actually see the scene we have known for years in the fifth season
(via vivalavieebohemeee)
I’m about halfway done with the chapter. Enjoy :)
Reaching for her clothes on the bench inside the shower area, she realized she had left her fresh scrub pants in her duffle bag by her locker. She sighed heavily, slight frustration showing through her demeanor, pushing open the stall door. Walking into the main area of the locker room, she stopped short, taking in the strong, bare back before her.
Her breath hitched in her throat, at the thought of being caught in a towel by a man she barely knew, and of the sight of his broad, muscular back, naked for her to see. She thanked a higher power he was wearing pants, for that would have made the moment so much more embarrassing for her. She moved forward, forcing herself to her bag, which was placed only a foot or so in front of him. She felt his eyes on her as she tried to bend her knees to pick up the pants lying right on top, as to not give him a show of what was under her towel. He cleared his throat slightly, and as she turned, she offered him a shy smile, barely lifting her head.
“Sorry,” she mumbled, not making eye contact with the tall doctor, who continued to stand shirtless before her, it clearly not bothering him like it did her. She held up the pants, “I left these in my bag.” She mentally slapped herself, knowing he didn’t need to know why she was out there in a towel, but she couldn’t help herself.
“No worries,” Jack offered her a smile, finding her red cheeks cute. He knew he’d been avoiding her on some small level, knowing she would confront him about the little girl’s tumor, but in the towel, holding her scrub pants, her hair soaked to her porcelain skin, she caught his eye. As she scooted past him, holding the towel up so tightly her knuckles were white, he couldn’t help but scan her small body with his hazel eyes, taking her in. He watched her walk away, though the playful smile on his face faltered slightly.
“Shit,” he breathed, and she stopped immediately, afraid of what was to come next. “What the hell happened to your leg?” He asked curiously, with what she could have sworn was a hint of concern.
Oceanic 815, from Sydney, I bumped into you coming out of the bathroom, and I stole your pen.
