You’ve been in that skin suit too long. You’ve forgotten. There used to be a real Margaret Blaine. You killed her and stripped her and used the skin. You’re pleading for mercy out of a dead woman’s lips.

Doesn’t the universe implode or something if you dance? 

1941. Right now, not very far from here the German war machine is rolling up the map of Europe. Country after country, falling like Dominoes. Nothing can stop it, nothing until one tiny, damp little island says “no”. No, not here. A mouse in front of a lion. You’re amazing. The lot of you. Don’t know what you do to Hitler, but you frighten the hell out of me. Off you go, then. Do what you got to do. Save the world. 

Peter Alan Tyler, my Dad. The most wonderful man in the world. Born 15th September, 1954.

Create a climate of fear and it’s easy to keep the borders closed. It’s just a matter of emphasis. The right word in the right broadcast repeated often enough can destabilize an economy, invent an enemy, change a vote. 

caitlinthearchive: I love your blog! It has the perfect things to reblog for my tribute blog! Ahh!

thank you!

I can feel. So many ideas, so much darkness. Rose, give me orders. Order me to die. 

That’s the thing. If I don’t dare, everyone dies.