can you believe that this is what i ended up doing rather than actual update art

University/College Au Masterlist

#latteart - imagines

Tiger House looks like it can’t decide if it’s an English pub, a used book store, or a bakery. The only sign that it actually sells coffee is the smell of freshly-roasted beans that hits Otabek when he pushes open the door, a little bell jangling above him. There’s nobody here but a bored-looking barista leaning on the counter by the register. “Can I help you?” the barista says, in a tone that heavily implies he would rather do no such thing.

100 Ways to Say ‘I Love You’ - Kelly_J_Jackson

Every day for the first 100 days of the New Year, I will be posting a drabble for each writing prompt that tumblr p0ck3tf0x created on their list “'100 Ways to Say I Love You’.” It will be mostly Victuuri with some Yurio (and possibly Otabek). It’s going to be a challenge, but I’m going to try my best to update daily. OR They’re a bunch of dorks, really.

admiration in falling asleep - calliopinaround

Rooming with Otabek is fine. It really is—they’re best friends, Otabek is the perfect roommate, and there’s nothing about each other that they don’t already know to make it weird. (Except Yuri hadn’t known that Otabek walks around only in his pajama bottoms in the morning, or what he smells like right out of the shower, or that he likes his coffee with two sugars and nothing else, or that he has a knack for losing the television remote regardless of where he puts it, or that he keeps his keys on his nightstand and nowhere else, or that he opens the blinds half-way first thing in the morning to let the sunrise in…) So it’s fine. It really is. Yuri likes this arrangement, and no matter how many looks Mila gives him, that’s the truth. He just wishes it sounded like all of the truth.

A Gays guide to Surviving College. - CoffeeAndDesperation

Yuuri katsuki, a young mathematics major starting his 2nd year of college, finds himself rooming with an illegally hot Russian linguistics major. While across the hall things heat up between Yuri plisetsky, and his interesting roommate who has a deep passion for writing.

a glass heart, and all its parts - AliFyre

Katsuki Yuuri comes to study in America with the hope that a change of environment will give his mental health the break he needs to finally write that book he’s always wanted. Viktor Nikiforov ended up in America a long time ago and stays there because he can’t think of anywhere better to be, sitting on a novel draft with zero inspiration to finish it. This is the story of how they struggle with themselves and their stories, and how they maybe find love in the process.

All the Warmth of the Sun - pythaglorious

Yuuri wasn’t sure if he could call it a date, but Phichit had set them up, and they were alone. In a bar. And, if Yuuri should consider this a date, there was worse company to be had than Viktor Nikiforov, with his shining silver hair and a baby blue stare that somehow held all the warmth of the sun.

Anatomical Accuracy - Fayina (Dayea)

Yuri has a secret talent in drawing, and he’d be damned if Otabek finds out about his shameful collection of the Kazakh’s portraits. Oh and his skype call with Mila and Sara is getting out of hand.

An eternal bee buzzes in my ear - mozaikmage

AU where the russian characters are international students studying in NYC, and otabek the kazakh guy is the hot waiter at that one russian restaurant they go to every weekend, and anyway don’t look at me 

artistry - lilium_parvum

“The city lights always called to Yuuri. Even as a boy, he dreamed of the neon glow on his face and riding fast, fast, fast down the busy roads. Maybe in a sports car. Or a motorcycle. Perhaps he would just run. He hadn’t worked out the details on that yet. Yuuri dreamed of a whirlwind love, the kind of person with cold eyes and a dark smile, a troubled person with a kind heart. ” In which Phichit’s Instagram leads to Yuuri and Viktor meeting.

A Yellow Highlighter - henriqua

Otayuri Week 2017 Day 7: Soulmates | Too bad Otabek is a people watcher, not a people meeter, and on top of that he’s convinced he would probably live a happier life without meeting a soulmate whose first words to him are rude ones.

Behind Locked Doors - dia_dove

College student Yuuri Katsuki is in love with his professor, Viktor Nikiforov. A love he plans on keeping to himself, until one drunken mistake leads him to a world of pleasure.

centripetal force - braveten

Victor speaks seven languages. (Physics isn’t one of them.) Luckily, though, he ends up rooming with his antithesis: a shy, black-haired boy who just so happens to be a physics major.

Close Quarters - i_like_my_eggs_benedict

Yuri moved thousands of miles away from home in Russia to attend a prestigious performing arts university in the States, gambling that his stupid former rink mate Victor (who also attends) wouldn’t be anywhere near him. Otabek also took a chance by coming to this university so far away from the security of life back home, hoping his future and career will go somewhere. They were both slightly worried about who their roommate would be, but it seems like the guy they were put with just seems to…fit.

Cold Light of Morning - kepitto 

do you believe in soulmates? - foreverhalo

A drabble about Yuri and Otabek in college.

Fragile Hearts - aksnowchild

*Title and Story are subject to change as this is an ongoing story* AU where Yuuri Katsuki is a Japanese college student going to school in America. He studies to become a vet while working at Ice Pets Adoption, which is owned by his friends the Nishigori family. He keeps his life fairly simple, but one day a mysteriously beautiful Russian waltzes into Yuuri’s life and suddenly he experiences something he never has before: attraction.

It Doesn’t Have to be a Lie - Recesskup

Yuuri is not outgoing. That’s why when Phichit supplies Viktor as his fake boyfriend he’s bringing home for Christmas he nearly dies on the spot. And in all Honesty, he’s not quite sure how he managed to convince Viktor Nikiforov to play the role of his pretend boyfriend. And he’s even more at a loss for words when he remembers he has to go along with this for two weeks. Or- The pretend relationship AU where Yuuri is a shy Dance Major and Viktor is the attractive, outgoing Art/Photography Major and Phichit is the worst wingman ever.

Legendary Lovers - rjk122

Leave it to Yuri Plisetsky to humiliate himself and then have the only person on campus that he wanted to avoid also end up being the only person who he sees all the time. And also who never does anything but stare at him. Like, seriously, why is this dude always staring at him? College AU based on a prompt by theappleppielifestyle on tumblr!

Love Like You’ll Never Be Hurt - OurMidnightMuse

(College AU) In high school Yuri Plisetsky was the end of many pranks by his fellow classmates, being a slight in stature ballet dancer. One in particular resulted in Yuri being forably outed as a homosexual in a most humiliating way, causing a rift in who he felt he could trust. Now in college, Yuri is trying to move past all of the things that bothered him in the past, however, they keep on cropping up. At a college party that he was coaxed into attending, Yuri meets the most unlikely of friend; a former ballet classmate whom he had not seen in many years named Otabek Altin. As the two grow closer, Yuri discovers something troubling about his new friend. Could the two possibly help each other through their past and present troubles, or will the blockades in the road cause them to fall apart before they even begin to come together? (TWs will preface each chapter in the beginning notes as they come.)

Match Made By PhichitSociallyAwkwardFox (Maze_Runner_Fae)

Five times Phichit plays matchmaker for his friends and the one time they play matchmaker for him.

Music of Love - mechatitan

“Otabek felt pure panic course through him. What did he do now? He was accidentally intruding on an extremely private moment for this beautiful man he didn’t even know. How did one even address this.
Maybe the best thing would be to just leave as quietly as he could. Otabek watched as the man leaned forward and onto his knees and crumpled in on himself. He knew he couldn’t just leave now.” Or the story in which Otabek accidentally witnesses Yuri dealing with a tragic loss and kinda fucks up.

Never Content - silvershrubbery, Sukiyaki_Rut

“If you look for perfection, you’ll never be content.” Or: Mila and Sara end up as roommates their sophomore year of college, but there’s a problematic division among the international dance students that puts them on opposite sides of a war. Despite that Sara can’t deny her crush on Mila, and Mila has a growing appreciation for the quiet but free-spirited Italian. When a scandal ensues, things become more complicated for everyone involved. Alternates between Mila’s and Sara’s perspectives each written by one of us, but you’ll catch on. Also, the ages have been adjusted so Mila and Sara are the same year in college; everything else is pretty much based on canon.

Oh the world is okay - mozaikmage

now with more characters and everyone being friends, yay

On Love: Voice - Pigfarts23

Au where Otabek and Yuri have to collaborate and they compose Agape together. The unholy music/college AU you didn’t ask for but got anyway

poly-A tail - owlinaminor

poly-A tail: a long string of RNA containing only adenine bases, added to the 3’ end of a pre-mRNA transcript to protect it from degradation as it travels through the cytoplasm. when depicted in textbooks, the structure is written as simply a long string of A’s. (or: in which yulia plisetskaya forms a study group, makes a friend, and learns that finals week is about more than taking tests.)

Shape of YouForestfish

Yuri wants to sleep but his neighbour keeps remixing into the wee hours of the morning. (in this AU they’re studying in England and living in the same halls of residence)

Taste of Paradise - Spicenee

With another successful house party under their belt, Yuri wanted to keep the party going with his roommates/boyfriends which wouldn’t be too hard to do. “We were wondering how much we made tonight.” Otabek said. He wrapped an arm around Yuri’s waist, pulling him closer to his chest. “Oh. Right, the money.” Yuri got up, turning so that both Otabek and JJ had a good look at his ass. Yuri reached back in to his back pocket, making sure to stick his ass out. He smirked when he noticed how JJ’s pupils dilated when he ran his hand down the curve of his ass. He slowly pulled out money from one of his back pockets before running his hand along his ass to the other back pocket.

Three Cheers and you Lose.Goddess_Of_Profanity

Yavok Feltsman, a retired NHL coach, is forced into teaching a team of useless, enthusiastic college students. As the hockey team grows closer together, problems develop, and relationships evolve. Will the group be able to hold everything together, or will it all fall apart?

wannabe rockstars and prima ballerinas - thehearsesong

au in which yuuri and viktor both attend columbia college in chicago. viktor is a music major and in a band and yuuri is a ballerina studying at the joffrey ballet academy as well as majoring in dance at columbia. they get paired up together for a project in class and viktor wants to be yuuri’s friend, dammit but yuuri has crippling anxiety basically yuuri gets bullied into supporting vitya’s band, there’s some ballet, phichit is the ultimate wingman as usual, and there’s fluff and college student hijinks

who you gonna call? - apollothyme

“Who would win in a fight between a giant pigeon and Iron Man?” “Yura, it’s four in the morning.”

You Must Be The Roomie - kaitlynsmth

AU where Yuri Plisetsky is a 19 year old social media star/dancer and is at college, and his roommate is in a band with Otabek Altin, who Yuri can’t help but pine over. 

Anonymous | pt. iii

Originally posted by kaisanity

[ back to masterlist ]

Scenario: Tumblr AU
Pairing: Chanyeol/Reader
Word Count: 1339
Rating: T

Summary: Can you fall in love with someone you’ve never met?
You just shot to tumblr fame when the latest chapter of your webtoon went viral. Messages start flooding in – hundreds of people saying things good and bad alike. One anon catches your eye, and you find you just have to reply to them…

<< previous part x next part >>

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I’m going to attempt to recap Duchovny in Boston day (February 22, 2017.) Warning: this could get long and sappy because it’s 3 AM and I’m just brain dumping. Under a cut…

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Picture Perfect Ch. 2

You’re not particularly into BNM, the new rising kpop group, but your best friend has fallen head-over-heels for their adorable maknae, Lee Daehwi. Your days in college are filled with working on your photography portfolio in hopes that a magazine will hire you, while your best friend’s is filled with stalking keeping up with BNM. However, when one day, your best friend decides to attend a fansign with your best camera, your entire world changes.

A multichaptered fic ft. Park Woojin, the trainees of Brand New Music, Yoo Seonho and the pd101 boys. In this story, your best friend’s name is Lee Seonmi; you two have been friends since high school, and you attend university in Seoul and room together.

Chapter One

Chapter Two: Loyalty

  • ft. Bae Jinyoung as your classmate in university!
  • 2.6k works


“Seonmi!” You yelled loudly, racing up to her. She looked up, makeup smeared and cheeks stained with tears. As soon as you pulled her into a hug, she burst into tears again, resting her face on your shoulder.

“T-they kicked me out!” Seonmi wailed loudly, “I didn’t do anything wrong! I was just standing there!”

You pulled Seonmi away from you, gripping her by the shoulders. Fumbling, you pulled a napkin out from your pocket and wiped the makeup away, mouth set firmly.

“Yah, I’m not letting them get away with this,” you snapped, setting off in the direction of the music store. “You didn’t meet them right? Because you got kicked out?”

“(Y/N), no, it’s okay,” Seonmi tugged on your hand, trying to stop you, “I’ll just get into the next fansign.”

“And waste even more money?” You shook your head defiantly, “Hell to the no.” No one– no one– was allowed to treat your best friend like that.


As you quickly wrote down your contact and identification information for the manager (and apologized for causing a scene), you had the sensation like someone was staring you. The manager punched your information into his phone, giving you time to glance up.

Your glance was met with an intense stare, coming from the dark eyes framed by the burgundy fringe of Park Woojin.

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8 things finishing my 8th book taught me

*I wrote this post on the 16th of October, for the record!*

Hey People of Earth!

So just like in the post I wrote up in January when I finished my seventh novel, this is kind of nuts to say, and I didn’t think I’d be writing this for another month, but uh.

I finished my eighth book.


I’m going to quote past me in that particular post (which you can read HERE) because if this isn’t scary accurate, I dunno what is:

So I kind of made a stupid, somewhat fleeting goal this past Friday, as I usually do. And that was to finish this book at all costs.

It doesn’t *really* surprise me that that I finished my seventh novel, and then my eighth under the same parameters, lol. (Both were finished on Sunday nights too, I believe?)

I genuinely can’t believe this book is over. It’s been eight months of writing this novel (HA eight months for my eighth book) and I can say I’m genuinely so sad it’s over. I walked around today feeling like I lost an important part of myself which is really dramatic seeming as though I just finished the book, but I hope someone out there relates.

I started this book right after finishing my seventh novel (book four in this series), and I’ll be honest–I was so scared about writing this book. Book seven gave me a really hard time, and I almost thought I’d made a mistake in a) continuing this story and b) taking it in the direction I did. I couldn’t evade fear when writing this novel. Starting it took me a while because it was so nerve-wracking to think it could be as much of a struggle as the last. I didn’t want to fail because I knew if I did, I wouldn’t be able to pull myself out of that rut, and then end up with an unfinished series.

Annnnnnd then I started my Doing the Write Thing updates, and all of that worry faded a bit. I started DtWT at a little under 10k words, and reached a little under 160k through that series. It kept me accountable. It excited me, and more than anything, motivated me. I know I mentioned this in DtWT #61, but thank you again for supporting that series so much, and for reading those posts. Genuinely, it means a lot to share my work with you, and to see my work improve as each post passes. I really don’t know if I would’ve finished this novel without that series. It really kicked me into the gear of writing again, and gahhhh, thank you again.

FOSTERED #5 houses some of my best work, but most importantly, taught me so, so much, and so, here I bring to you, eight things finishing my eighth novel taught me.

1. I really care about writing.

This is my eighth book, and I can confidently say this is the only one in which I cared about the writing from start to finish. (Sounds strange, but I’ll explain.)While writing is a lot of things, at its core, writing is writing, and it took me eight books to really immerse myself in words and enjoy using them as tools to create something beautiful. I crave beautiful prose—a desire I didn’t really feel until writing this book. Making sentences read and sound like art is what I strive for now. 

From books 1-6, writing wasn’t my top priority. Telling a story no matter the quality was my priority, and while that isn’t wrong, I think working with that mindset for so long wasn’t becoming enough for me. I needed to re-evaluate, and really focusing on the craft of writing, rather than storytelling was what I needed. Of course, writing also includes good storytelling, but I feel, looking back on it, that until halfway around book seven, I didn’t even think about the writing. I didn’t edit it all that much, and most importantly, didn’t care about writing. I liked words, yeah, and enjoyed creating the random nice sentence here and there, but I didn’t view it as something I could use to create art. Now, good writing means a lot to me, and while I don’t think my writing is perfect, and could use improvement, I’m so happy with the improvement I’ve made and the love of actual writing I’ve procured start-to-finish through it. :)

2. Sometimes acceptance takes time.

Book four of this series (my seventh novel) took me a very, very long time to accept, and even after I’d written it, I wasn’t confident in the route I’d taken it. I still had the same worries when writing book five and it took a whole lot of crying to realize that I’m very proud of how these last two books turned out. I’m an emotional person, but don’t often show my emotions, so it’s sort of funny looking back how much I cried when writing this book, HA. I had a lot of worries about this novel, and my anxiety was eating me alive every time I wrote it. That was my issue in the beginning, but I found, the more time went on in writing this book, the more I accepted it, and the more I grew to really love it. So, if you’re in a position like me, and you’re seriously not feeling your book, sometimes time is the best remedy.

3. Moments like these are the ones you need to cherish.

When I was writing the last paragraph or so of this book, I got really emotional (lol how do I say that without sounding melodramatic). I didn’t cry or anything, but it felt like I was losing something. It was bittersweet. I’ve never felt this way before when I’ve finished a novel. It’s honestly usually been me moving onto the next book the same day or the next day, or feeling content.

But this… was something else. It was letting go of something I loved so much. I learned through this book that every time you write your book is time you should cherish. It’s something you spend a chunk of your life on. Moments happen around your book, and your book is there with you to experience them. This book in particular holds such a strong place in my heart because it gave me–as cheesy as it sounds lol rip–some new hope.

I learned to love the book I write when I write it even if it’s a pain. To cherish my time with this book, and to take my time. It hurt to finish it, honestly, I guess it’s particularly angsty for me to say I feel this grief for something that hasn’t left me. I’m so glad it’s done, but it was like closing the door to a chapter I didn’t want to end. It had to end in that spot, rightfully so, but I wanted to hang onto it for as long as I could. I genuinely appreciate every moment I had to write this book, looking back. And I’m so happy I learned so much through it.

4. Taking your time isn’t a bad thing.

This sort of bounces off that last one, but this is a lesson I learned the hard way. My average drafting time before I wrote my seventh book was 3 months. This book, as I mentioned, took me eight months, and before then, the longest it’d taken me to write a novel was six months, and that was the hardest book I’d ever written. A big issue I had when I was writing book four in this series was that I felt as if taking three months longer than my average to draft was a telling sign that I was struggling with the book. I can pretty much say writing this novel was a bit of a breeze (it had its moments, but overall), and taking my time helped in terms of quality. A disclaimer, the time it takes to write a book varies from writer to writer, so this is completely personal, but I feel like taking a little longer writing this book realllyyyyyyy amped it up in the prose department.

Not to roast past me, but yooooo my older books lacked a lottttttttt of literary merit, like where is the good writing cuz I see none, lol. Not to say this book is amazing and the writing is excellent, but I do see a substantial improvement from my older stuff. So yes, initially when I started writing this book I was keen on finishing it in three months and rushing it so I could just be done and write something else. But as time went on, I realized that there is no rush. Even though I constantly feel at rush in my life (for mental health reasons I don’t want to get into now, but if you’re curious, let me know!), I learned to take it slow. Enjoy the writing process, and create something at the end of the day, regardless of how long it takes.

5. I’m growing up.

A common question I posed while writing this book to myself and to my sister was well where did all the fun times go? Books 1-3 in this story are pretty juvenile—more banter between characters, ‘missions’, and so on, but as I aged, I found those things dried up and turned into just straight melancholy? (lol) I don’t have many if any fun times in book five, not in the sense I defined fun times as at least in the past. This series has spanned five books, and three years of my life, so I’ve done a lot of growing up since writing the first one. Its message and morals have gone from super obvious to pretty ambiguous, and the lines of morality have been blurred quite a bit (which I enjoy incorporating into my writing now). Right and wrong aren’t as easily spotted (and tbh this book is totallllyyyyy not suited for a YA audience lol content is hella graphic but), and a lot of it is rooted in the darkest corners of the human mind. I don’t know if 13-year-old me would’ve expected these books to wind up in this path, but 16-year-old me is cool with where it is. I left a lot of me in these books, and pretty much grew up with them. It’s strange to have captured so much growth of myself personally in these novels, but this is already something I’ve learned to cherish.

6. I might actually be a true Pantser (but we’ll see)

So if any of you have been following this blog since the good ol’ 2015 days, it’s common knowledge that I made it clear I was a Pantser. I pantsed everyyyythiiiiingggg. In recent years, I’ve decided to start outlining projects I plan on publishing (for the most part, excluding ALANNIS) just so I can see what I’m getting into before I start. The FOSTERED series, since it’s all personal stuff, isn’t going to be published. I pants these books, but occasionally, and I found this happened a lot more with book five, I’ll write up ‘scene screenplays’ which are basically just the bones of a scene.

OH did I find out that writing with a guideline does noooottttt work for me. I’m not going to say anything here is permanent, but I pretty much realized my writing with my outline VS without one is drastically different… I’m not actually happy about this discovery to be honest, as I’ve already started outlining a couple projects, and the struggle was so real when writing with an outline for this novel. I really do hope this is not the case, and was just subjective to this book, but yes, this was a major lesson I picked up on when writing this particular book (and I reallllllllyyyyyyyy hope this changes)!

7. I like writing really sad, dark things

This is sorta morbid, I’m sorry, but I’m really into writing all things dark and upsetting and overall, enjoy a darker tone in my writing. I noticed, if I had any ‘happier’ scene, it’d take me a little longer to write/I had more trouble writing it. Don’t know what that says about me, but as someone who is sort of naturally on the darker side (edgy af the edge is real), it makes sense that I do enjoy the not so pleasant sides of the mind, and life. Or, I’m just really angsty, and angst (poetic angst in this book, I’ll say) is all you need. Love is all you need more like angst is all you need.

Originally posted by psychedelic-people


I don’t think there’s anything particularly wrong with enjoying writing darker things, and I noted that I often struggle writing joy. Honestly this is just sad, lol. (But I mean look at my boi Edgar, he wrote lots of dark things and I mean that’s my dude now speaking of Edgar, the epigraph of this novel [which I’m including, even if the others don’t because epigraphs are aesthetic goals] is an Edgar quote and Edgar is my bro.)

8. I love this book so much, and if I could go back and tell myself I would have when I started it, I would.

I worried a lot when I started this novel. I worried it would fail, that it would get nowhere, that it would end unfinished, that I’d taken it the wrong route, that it would take too long to write, that I wouldn’t enjoy what I was writing, that the plot was dumb, that I focused on the wrong things, that the first chapter wasn’t strong enough, and a whole other laundry list of worries pretty common between writers. I really would go back to my past self and tell her not to worry. To tell her that just because she wrote this book and said she wouldn’t, doesn’t mean the product would be shitty. I’m genuinely proud of this novel, and I don’t know if I’ve said that in a long time. I’m happy I wrote it. Happy I poured eight months of my life into it, and most importantly, am happy it taught me so many valuable lessons. I’m happy I got to connect with you on another level through it, and happy I carried it with me through this stage of my life. It saw my hatred, and my worst moments, my great moments, my worry, and every other emotion I also tried to share on here. Books are books, but this one felt like a friend. I’m sad to lose my friend now, but I’m thankful for the time we spent together. This got all sappy again, but yes. Thank you, book. I will miss writing you, lol.

So that’s it for today’s post. I had a blast writing this. It’s always a nice reflective period to go back in time and really point out what exactly I learned through this journey. I think this novel shaped me a lot as a writer, and I’m happy to move into other projects without it, because I feel like I know a lot more than I did before. Thank you for being on this journey with me, and for reading through everything that happened in these last eight months. I truly appreciate everything you give me, and couldn’t express my thanks enough.

Aaaaand before I leave, a mega thanks to my dudes who continuously supported this journey: @sarahkelsiwrites, @sssoto and @shaelinwrites for listening, encouraging, and teaching me so many things about writing.

See you in the next one. :)


i will kill ‘em all

Originally posted by bubblegumdefective

Yes, you are, Jonathan, yes you are. 

Here’s the TL;DR:  John Wick Chapter 2 will never be as good as John Wick and it knows it.

However, it kicks ass anyway.  It tries to aim for Empire Strikes Back and Aliens levels of awesome and it succeeds. 

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Solangelo Fanfiction Masterlist

I lost my masterlist after I changed url, so, time for a new one.


  • And What Would Your Message Be? [ Between different people telling different stories and of messages to come across, maybe that evening came out a bit more special than usual. ]
  • Captivated  [ At first, he only went as a favor for Percy. The next time had been for Hazel. Then his trips became frequent and it totally had nothing to do with the cute blonde working inside the jewelry store… At least that’s what he kept telling himself. Oh look, he ‘accidentally’ destroyed Thalia’s bracelet.]
  • Chance Meetings And Puppy Tales [ Will just wanted to save the small puppy he saw soaking wet from the rain, meeting someone wasn’t actually part of it. Not that he’s actually complaining because Nico di Angelo is one fine piece of art he wouldn’t mind getting acquainted with. Solangelo. Mortals AU.]
  • Chicken Soup  [ A what happened after the three days in the infirmary]
  • Hold Tight, Don’t Let Us Go [ Sometimes, a relationship is worth taking the risk for]
  • Holiday Surprises [Between having finally spent Christmas eve together with one Will Solace after not getting much time for each other, he thought that it couldn’t get any better. He was wrong. Nico’s Holiday just keeps getting better]

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How to Make Writers Not Want to Continue a Fic

I’ve been seeing this both on my fics and those of writers that I follow and it’s starting to get to me. Writing fanfics goes both ways: people write for the fandom, and people read for the fandom. Some people do both, some do one and not the other. There is no right way to do fan fiction. Let’s get that out of the way right now. However, there is a form of etiquette that I personally think should be observed at all times, if only to not come across like a total douche. We already talked about what turns people off from reading fics, so let’s talk about what turns people off from writing fics.

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struggling with an injury - story and advice!

Hey everyone! In some previous blog posts, I mentioned that I’m struggling with an injury to my drawing arm. Although I hoped that the problem would have totally gone away after more than a month of rest, it actually hasn’t, and I’m still struggling with it at this very moment. It’s actually been harder emotionally than it has physically. I’ve decided to go ahead and write a blog entry about it, not only to keep my followers in the loop but also as a cautionary tale to any artists out there who have not yet sustained an injury. If I had been more aware of the risks, maybe this would never have happened to me, so the very least I can do is try to help those who aren’t aware of the risks.

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Diversity in gaming, but with a happy ending

With all the talk of diversity and representation in games I need to share an awesome story, because there are more than enough negative stories to go around.

So the former punter of the Minnesota Vikings is a gent named Chris Kluwe. We became acquainted at PAX this year over a shared love of magic, and have spoken about a game he was creating, which involved deities from different pantheons fighting. Now, that set off some alarms for me, because it has historically not gone well, you might say, as it always ends up being a bunch of dead or highly marginalized pantheons and Hinduism, because something about having many gods and lots of colorful representations makes folks think they have the right to use the tradition like a public domain comic book or something.

(This is a pretty long post, more below the cut)

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Reasons why D5 is a Prequel and more things about a Certain Character -- Spoiler City

Also includes all the evidence I have for a character being a certain thing so all the spoiler cut.  I’ll mark any evidence that I’m kind of reaching on with a “(loose),” since some of this is conjecture, I will admit.

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We Are The Kids From Yesterday (Two Roads Meet Epilogue)

a/n: HELLO HI ITS BEEN WAY TOO LONG SINCE I DID ANYTHING IM SO SORRY I HATE YEAR 11 i’ve been writing this on and off for ageS pls icant believe its done praise the lord and his miracles 

as it’s an epilogue it corresponds with the story of two roads meet (no shit) so it probably won’t make a lot of sense if you haven’t read that beforehand

anyway yea here goes



They finally have a few days off tour, but Phil figures he would probably rather die than spend the tiniest fraction of them with any of his fellow members. These last few months have been insane, to give the greatest of understatements. Forming a band after graduation, for a start. Progressing from a dirty, noisy garage in the back of Ryan’s uncle’s house, to performing in late night bars and small shows, to this. Being signed. Actual touring; putting the contrast of trailing to Starbucks a few times in the space of four days, to travelling from London, to Manchester, to Glasgow, then to Dublin. In the same amount of time. He’s seen more cities in the space of a week than he previously had in his whole life. It’s insane. Everything’s just insane.

He’s probably talked to more people in the space of a week than he has in his entire life, too, to come to think of it. The likings of meeting up with his cosy circle of Tom, Esmée and Grace, had now somehow expanded into speeding through Drive-Thrus at 3am and losing count of the amount of food fights that have commenced in the hotel room using the products of their complementary mini-fridges with the likings of Ryan, Alex, and Charlie. His best friends, and fellow band members of two years. He never, ever, ever in a million lightyears, thought of his future shaping up like this. Never.

Of course, he’s still in contact with Tom and the group. He doesn’t know what he’d do if he wasn’t. He’s proud of him; his best friend of nine years. His rock. And now, an aspiring film director, working closely with some kinds of high-profile media producers Phil can’t remember the names of. All he knows is that he probably isn’t far off a glittering career in Hollywood waiting for him at the end of Sunset Boulevard. Their little secondary school joke was coming to life.

With being busy with Art college and with a portfolio six times the size of Phil’s song writing book, he doesn’t often get to see Esmée as much as he’d like to, although with Grace living so near, he’s never too far from an update from her; whether it’s a fond chuckle at a sneaky Snapchat selfie from her behind the desk in Topshop HQ, or a wistful sigh at her texts about how much she was missing them on account of the fact she’s living halfway up the country. She’s doing well, too.

As for Grace, well. He’s surprised she isn’t touring with them, to be honest. Her fate has followed similarly to Phil’s in terms of music-related careers; flitting from concert-to-concert, meeting and conversing with band member after band member had somehow developed into being offered a provisional place in none other than Star Surface after announcing they were in need of a new lead guitarist. Phil had never had the privilege of being introduced to Grace’s true talent when it comes to guitar-playing until only a few months ago, when he and the band decided to surprise them at a concert on their free night off.

Their young lives are already full of such success, undoubtedly accompanied by more potential waiting amidst the brightly lit years down the line. They’re living in the light at the end of their tunnels of teenage lives, and it’s blinding.

For Phil, maybe a little too blinding.

Days, months, even years have rushed past as quickly as opportunities without a single chance for hesitation, and Phil can’t keep up. He lived for years under the impression life was too dull for him; too slow, too uneventful. He always kidded himself that all he needed was a bit of action; a bit of light in his life to lift his spirits and chase the crawling demons inhabiting the depths of his mind away.

But the light he had in his life had burnt out many years ago, consequently burning a hole in Phil’s life, heart, and soul in the process.

There isn’t, hadn’t been, and never will be a single minute of Phil’s life spent without Dan on his mind.

Phil knows this isn’t a life he should take for granted. He knows he’s living a product of something only many teenagers can wildly fantasise of; and a life burning so fast, so brilliantly, so brightly, isn’t something every human is gifted with. It’s barely something any humans are gifted with.

Phil loves everything about this life. He loves grinning into the microphone at the sight of the glimmering lighters decorating the crowd in the middle of their cover of ‘Just One Yesterday’; every individual light illuminating the darkened population of fans beneath them reminding him of the population of the night sky (corresponding nicely with what that particular song meant to him). He loves being the only one awake at night when the tour bus is hurtling down the road at 70 KMPH, thinking of how he once gazed out of windows that weren’t tinted black, and sat on upholstery that wasn’t manufactured using very expensive leather.

Once, he fell asleep embracing something that wasn’t his own pillow.

Phil sighs into the night air. He loves this life, sure.

But he isn’t happy. He’s far from happy.

He gulps back any potential tears as the icy gust of wind slaps his cheeks, the inevitable feeling of crippling loneliness crawling back into consciousness after spending a few minutes without being surrounded by the presence of countless other people, whether it be friends fellow band members, fans, or their agency.

The lack of company also allows him to realize how it had been a very long time since he’d been alone like this; so long that the idea of being in his own company is now apparently considered an abnormality instead of the other way around.

Although being the centre of such a hectic life, Phil realizes how warped his views on abnormality and normality have been. He never anticipated living a life where the idea of going to the corner shop for milk on your own would be the height of alienation, and being screamed at by thousands of teenage girls is now just another part of the day.

It’s not normal.

Although Phil never wanted to be.

But he never wanted to be a celebrity, either.

He breathes out a shaky sigh of relief as the fallen leaves crunch under his shoes, the moon accentuating the silhouettes of the trees surrounding him and highlighting the opening he’s approaching.

He indulges in the almost-silence of the night he’s gifted with, following the uneven footpath created by an amount of steps from previous walkers that Phil can’t possibly comprehend.

He bets none of them are celebrities, though.

It just isn’t what you do, when you’re as staggeringly high up the social ladder as he’s found himself to be. There are parties to attend, interviews to go to, paparazzi to pose for, and journalists to satisfy. No-one has time for country lanes in the dark. They’re for people of supposed normality; non-celebrities, dog walkers, human beings. People with the biggest worry in their life being what casserole to cook for dinner, or whether they’ve remembered to e-mail their boss about the weekend errands. People who have time to walk, to think, to talk, to evaluate, to live.

Maybe that’s why celebrities’ lives tragically collapse in the way they do. Phil thinks. Because they don’t have time for this. They’re dealing with the lives that probably demand this kind of mental attention more than anything. We need time to think. We need to talk. We have more in our lives that needs to be evaluated, considered, and assessed.

But there’s a public image to keep polished, songs to write, agents to please, and guitars to play. No one has time for it.

He reaches the opening faster than he’d expected due to his straying train of thought stealing his consciousness for a couple of idle moments. He lets his lips tug at a soft, content smile as he finds a promising-looking log a few footsteps away from him, letting the full moon’s hazy glow serve as an effective enough light to guide him over to the log without tripping over any unwanted obstacles; his ankle still ached from the result of a few too many drinks combined with the tree root he had completely missed, and ever since he’d been determined not to repeat the performance of falling flat on his face in front of the group of newly-made friends.

Only there would be no-one to fall in front of, now, on account of the fact Phil’s almost completely alone.


His gaze immediately settles on the luckily clear night sky, the broken clouds exposing a dark blackness behind them, which reveals the breathtakingly intricate patterns of stars peppered into the midnight hour above the treetops Phil realizes how dearly he’s been missing.

The brightest light burning into the stretch of varying shades of darkness catches Phil’s eye, sending a sudden chill jolting down his spine, feeling his breath catch in his throat the moment he tries to break the self-created silence with a whisper.

“Hi, Dan.” He sighs softly into the nothingness surrounding him, refusing to let his eyes wander to anything else that wasn’t the star dwarfing the rest of the pinpoints of light in the sky, the unnaturally bright light glimmering softly in response.

If Phil was crazy, he’d let himself believe Dan’s listening.

“It’s been a while since I’ve had the chance to do this.” He gestures sadly up into the array of stars he’s realised how much he’s been bitterly missing. “It feels weird that this used to be such a day-to-day procedure, whereas now I feel like I’ve de-familiarized myself with silence. It doesn’t feel right not having thousands of other humans in my company.” He gulps, gazing up into the sky as he suddenly realizes he’s now in the company of thousands of other stars, not humans.

But it’s only the company of one star he particularly cares about right now. He wouldn’t care if all the stars burnt out if it meant keeping Dan up in the sky, lighting up the darkness he’s such a stranger to.

“I don’t know how I’m finding all this celebrity stuff, Dan.” He sighs, feeling his voice wobble on the last word. He wonders if Dan’s been watching him as much as he’s been thinking about him; if he could see the countless concerts he’s performed in the space of these two years, watched over the roads he’d been hurtling down in the tour bus, the oceans he’d been flying over, leaping from city to city, making the most of the sheer undiscovered broadness of the earth humans are given no choice other than to explore. He’s living this live in a way he’d never imagined remotely possible, and he wonders if Dan would be proud of him.

He wonders if Dan knows a lot of things about his life. He wonders if he knows about his almost love-affair with Ross; the drummer from Star Surface. He wonders if he knows how much it pained him to see the heartbreak written into Ross’s face after having to turn him down. He wonders if he knows about him seeing his own face on the cover of Wednesday’s latest Kerrang! magazine, the countless interviews they’d been flitting to and from, the appearance they’d been asked to make at Reading Festival last year to introduce Arctic Monkeys. He wonders if Dan’s proud of him.

But most of all, he wonders if Dan knows he’s not happy.

“I know I shouldn’t take this life for grante- well, strictly speaking, no human should ever take a life on earth for granted.” He corrects himself. “I know I shouldn’t be taking this quality of life for granted, and I really do try to appreciate it. I do appreciate it; of course I do. I’m just-…” He sighs, lowering his voice although it’s pretty evident there’s no need unless he feels like he’s going to disturb the trees. “Until now, I never understood how someone constantly surrounded by people, friends adoring fans and an eventful life full of excitement could be so lonely.”

He fiddles with his shirt sleeve, keeping his gaze fixated on the light which, although he’s certain could be a trick of his imagination, had dimmed slightly in empathy. Almost as if he was trying to hint he can relate.

He frowns in sudden realization of what Dan was possibly trying to imply.

“Celebrities-… they’re like stars, right?” His voice cracks. “Only the ones that shine the brightest get credibility; they get noticed. They’re given a name, a purpose, a sense of belonging in the futile culture of stardom. Like stars; it’s only the brightest most noticeable ones that are given a name, given a place in the man-made constellations made for them. The Ancient Greeks only cared about the ones that burnt the biggest, most beautiful light. There must be an uncountable amount of less-bright stars that have been completely overlooked by ‘Orion’ or the 'Big Dipper.’ Where’s their sense of belonging? Their existence hasn’t been determined because they simply haven’t been recognised by humans? Humans; who make up the most infinitely tiny, insignificant proportion of the universe. We’re nothing to stars. Yet we seem to have enough control over them to feel the need to name them. Almost as if we created them.

It’s the same kind of culture with celebrities, really. Some with equal, if not more talent can be completely unknown, overlooked, completely disregarded because of stupid celebrities with wasted fame that isn’t deserved, nor is it remotely necessary at all.” Names such as Paris Hilton and Kim Kardashian spring to mind. “Some are never given a name. They’re never given a sense of belonging in the world of Hollywood. They’re never noticed. They’re just another anonymous, insignificant proportion of the population that makes up human life, aren’t they?

Why do we have to rely on others in order to make ourselves noticed? Why is it their responsibility to determine our significance as a human? We’re all the same family under one sky; why should it be when one celebrity dies, millions cry, although when millions of humans die, no one even notices, let alone cries?” He has to gulp back a tear at the mention of death while having Dan’s light in his line of vision.

He sighs, letting the silence cut into his consciousness as he realizes how much he’s been repressing his star talk. Five minutes of being alone with the stars later, and he’s already feeling better than he’d ever been before; well, since Dan’s passing at least.

“I find it rather abstract how…” He pauses with a frown. “How while in the concept of man-created astrology, giving stars names and constellations is effectively humanizing them; transforming them into a concept humans can comprehend. One they can feel as if by joining a few dots they can suddenly conquer the universe.” He shudders; astrology sickens him. “Although while the culture of celebrities is almost dehumanizing humans- turning them into objects. Into perfect dolls that should only be approached with a scream and an autograph pen being thrown at their face.” He smirks at the memory of the Sharpie hitting his eye. “I mean, kissing the ground where Justin Bieber has walked? You wouldn’t exactly fall to the pavement after the postman had delivered something to your house, would you? Just because he’s known, because he has a name and a place in this world, that apparently results in the perception that he’s less than a human, and more of a God?” He shudders, one experience with being in the same hotel lobby as Justin bloody Bieber and his rudeness to staff had been enough to put him off meeting any huge celebrity ever again. It wasn’t as if his opinion on him was sky high as it was, but if that experience wasn’t offputting, he doesn’t know what else possibly could be. “I’d never really come to terms with how different a celebrity’s image can be from their actual self. I’m sure Justin would probably have a lot less people falling to his feet and cradling the gravel he’d stepped on if they knew only a fraction of the stuff that we do.” He grins. It’s the best part of being 'famous’; hearing all the embarrassing gossip about your fellow celebrities. It gives you the same rush as you used to get while hearing something awful about someone you hate back in high school.“ His eyes glitter. “Although they do say high school never ends.”

That statement has been pretty damn true in the world of fame. If you’re not rich, good looking, interesting or remotely talented, you’re forgotten about. You’re worthless. Four years of battling for popularity and significance in high school, as he realizes, is only a sample of what to expect for the rest of human life. It’s unescapable. The only thing that changes, are the trends. The names. The faces.

It almost seems as permanent and timeless as a star’s life cycle through the eyes of a human; especially considering a human life is gone before a star can even blink.

“But even stars die out.” Phil breaks the heavy silence as he suddenly flickers his eyes up to the sky, meeting Dan’s light in a hard, sincere gaze. “Like celebrities.”

Like celebrities. The words echo relentlessly through the midnight atmosphere, hauntingly laced into every gust of wind rustling the forest of trees behind him, shattering the peaceful quietness resting on the grassy fields in front of him, and hollowly circling Phil’s mind, stinging with realization over not only what he’d just said, but how much he’d actually meant it.

He stands up suddenly, his teeth chattering in the sudden drop of temperature the cruel midnight weather inflicted upon him. “I would say I’ve had a lot of time to think about the mortality of the universe, and bore you with another lifeless tangent in the name of being somewhat poetic.” His voice is suddenly bitter, every word spat into the darkness coated with venomous self-hatred as he begins walking. “But I haven’t. I haven’t had time for anything apart from being able to collapse into a bed in the corner of a 'Tour Bus’ for a few hours before being woken up to repeat the same routine over and over again, with the same false smile etched onto my face, and the same sharp ache in my hand after unwillingly playing the guitar for hours after I’d usually pack it up for the night.

It’s not how they edit it to look in those stupid 'band documentaries’. That’s just a sugar-coated perception made by staring down the lens of a Canon Powershot with our 'Greatest Hits’ edited into the background. Never have they thought of giving the public an idea of what it’s like from the alternative point of view, minus the heavy layer of media.

They don’t care about the receiving end though, do they?” He gulps, staring up at the blackness of the star-studded sky exposed between gaps of thick, pale clouds. “We’re hid behind it all.”

Dan dims briefly in response, responding with a shaky glimmer in response to the tidal wave of dark clouds ominously approaching, as if he knows exactly what Phil is desperately hinting at, and responds in opposition with an equal amount of desperation, the flickers in his light becoming increasingly panicked as Phil continues walking.

Although, how does Phil know he’s even listening? Undeniably, it’s a more logical explanation that his imagination was still fucking with his conscious state of mental health causing him to believe in ridiculous concepts such as the whole 'afterlife’ thing he previously expressed relentless scepticism towards. How does Phil know he’s not being completely ignored, when that’s all he’s ever known his whole life?

As he walks out of whatever forest/field situation he’s found himself in, his eyes are caught by a glimmer of light shining through the bare branches of mid-winter. He gulps, walking ahead in order for further revelation of what seems like a building of some kind behind the dispersing trees he’s walking out of.

Ten minutes is all he needs to come to the realization that the building is not alone. As the lights accumulate and the trees  He gulps again, his eyes trailing over the beautiful city skyline that it’s a part of, surrounded by an array of artificial lighting poured into every tower, skyscraper and apartment his peripheral vision can take in one glance.

It’s the same city.

The same city they shared the night with, those many years ago. The same city that stole their breath as they exchanged sleeping for beholding the glittering view from the Skybar. He locks his gaze on the same building that saw him and Dan rushing out in the middle of the night to become a part of the beautiful view of the surrounding urban galaxy. The same building where they had proved their love to eachother in a way that can only bring back Phil a haunting shiver whenever his mind ghosts over the memory.

The same building where Phil was about to become a part of not the human-created galaxy, but the real one. Above him.

“If I started here…” He glances up in the sky. “It only makes sense that I end here.”

Dan’s inability to respond doesn’t stop Phil’s instincts screaming at him that this was completely crazy, wrong, insane, along with any other panic-fuelled adjectives the English dictionary can cope with.

Phil knows damn well Dan’s aware of what he means.

He follows the path, swapping grassy mud for cold, hard concrete as his feet hit the ground at a quickening pace, leaving the country for the city in one swift motion of the worn-out wooden gate, escaping the shadow cast by the last tree and casting shadows of his own in the amber streetlight he suddenly finds himself under.


It takes a lot of use of his sunglasses, pulling his fringe down over his eyes and hitching his scarf up over his face to avoid any dreaded recognition. Plastering on yet another false grin while scribbling his name in Sharpie ink onto someone’s phone case really would be the last thing he could possibly be dealing with right now.

But he’s made it. He’s here.

He allows himself to let out a soft chuckle in disbelief at the postcard-perfect view that had so nearly completely slipped his memory. He tugs off his sunglasses, almost taken aback again as he’s suddenly exposed to the vibrancy of the sight without having to peer through tinted lenses.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Dan’s voice echoes hauntingly in his mind, causing Phil’s heart to clench at the vividness of is voice. If he didn’t know any better, it would’ve been enough to convince him that Dan’s still here.

But he’s not.

Phil gulps, locking eyes with the unchanged skyline stretching 360 degrees around him. Everything’s identical to how they left it; all those years ago; the skyline still juts out with the family of skyscrapers over to his left, his heart clenching at the lights studding the concrete. The same Cathedral that had stuck in his memory since he last gazed at the city stood proudly to his right, the lights peppering the building with a soft glow, illuminating every detail of the breathtaking, historical architecture Phil can only wildly dream of creating.

The seemingly infinite network of roads is still there. They all still run, curve, wind, twist and meet in the same directions; and the family of traffic and humans still continue to drive across the tarmac, the miniature life forms whizzing past eachother at a rate Phil can’t even comprehend.

He finds almost immediate comfort in being in contact with the roads again. Hearing the distant roar of the bustling night life continuing on beneath him in complete oblivion to his observations was enough to cause the tension in the pit of his stomach to unknot. Because whether you’re dead, or you’re alive, humanity lives on. People have futures to experience, hearts to break, achievements to be made, opportunities to grab at the last second, opportunities to pass up, love to fall in, and lives to live. 

They’re all sorted, in terms of human life. The roads have taken care of their futures. All they have to do is ride through it.

“Apart from me.” Phil suddenly confesses out loud, although he’s certain Dan will understand. “I’m one of the less fortunate ones, aren’t I?”

His eyes leave the city for the night sky, studded with starlight above him. “I used to think of my fate to be set in concrete. I could see it laid out in front of me, and I was content with the possibilities the future could’ve provided me with. I was happy.”

He sighs to himself. “A lot can change in a few years, can’t it? I couldn’t recognize my future if someone personally wrote it in the stars for me.” He hesitates. “Maybe because there is no future for me anymore.”

He lets his eyes trail over to the largest, brightest light in the sky, and he gulps at the pang in his heart.

“It’s said that the lights that shine twice as bright, burn for half as long.” Giving the example of Dan’s life was pretty much useless given that it’s blatantly obvious to both of them, so he settles for another example. Perhaps a little less obvious.

“Celebrities are considered the brightest stars in the sky of humanity.” He begins to reflect back on his previous musings in the field. “They’re the ones who make a name in the world; make an impact in society, the ones who get noticed. Noticed for perhaps not entirely who they really are inside, but the name they make for themselves. The mask they’ve created to hide behind.

I think I can safely say I’ve had my fair share with Celebrity culture.” Phil narrows his eyes, reflecting back on the crazy mess of memories from his short-lived course of a couple of years of burning as bright as he did. From the glimmering lights illuminating every venue they’d performed in, through the millions of flashes per second of the paparazzi lights in his face, to here; under the stars, locking his gaze with the only light in the sky that matters. The only light that has ever mattered to Phil. “I’m done with it. My road’s finished, and fate has stopped serving me.” He gulps. “All that’s ahead is a dead end.” He feels a mixture of adrenaline and anxiety begin to swirl hotly in the pit of his stomach as he dares to glance down at the sickening drop beneath him, the lofty height dwarfing even the tallest of humans amongst the grandest of buildings. He’s at the top; at the very edge of the city. At the very edge of his life.

“I’ve always believed soulmates meet, because they have the same hiding place.” He glances up at the sky, allowing himself to edge further forward. “The stars were the only place we felt comfortable in. In the fields, immersed in the night with only the moonlight to give us a sense of directions, we could be ourselves. We didn’t have to worry about the impressions we were giving to other people. We didn’t have to worry about anyone else, apart from eachother. And the array of lights above us.”

He begins to lift himself onto his tiptoes, inhaling the city air, rich with pollution. Rich with human life.

“You’ve returned to the hiding place.” He gulps. “And it’s time for me to join you.

Because I like the thought of two people spending forever together.”

He suddenly whirls round, turning his back on the city. Turning his back on humanity, the endless roads, fates set in stone, and life.

His gaze sets only on the brightest light in the sky. His light. His star, his guidance, his sense of belonging, his hiding place.

The only light that always has, and always will matter to Phil.

He closes his eyes, and relaxes his feet.


And you only live forever in the lights you make

When we were young we used to say

That you only hear the music when your heart begins to break

Now we are the kids from yesterday

angelthainguyen  asked:

can you do a modern au where eun owns a toy shop and soonduk and so own a martial arts center and hae soo is a famous beauty blogger?? idk how to weave these altogether but i just have these head canons?? (btw, the-wolf-puppy is my side-blog and i've been following and loving your writing and all your moon lovers posts!!)

I love your side blog! I’m pretty sure I’ve liked every post on there haha Thanks for the prompt & enjoy! :) 

Of course with concealer, you always want to go a shade or two lighter than your actual skin tone, otherwise you’ll actually draw attention to your blemish. 

So I want to end this post with a final tip. If you have dry skin, try sticking with cream or stick concealer, and if you have normal or oily skin, go for the liquid! 

Thanks for reading and I’ll post again soon! \^o^/

Soo shut her laptop and stretched her arms, feeling the stress lift off her shoulders.  

She had been in a writing slump for a whole week, not knowing what to post on her blog. Not to mention, she was constantly receiving messages from her readers asking for another update. 

It wasn’t until she started experimenting with different types of concealers that she finally found something worth writing about. 

So’s scar had always made him a bit insecure, whether or not he liked to admit it. Whenever they’d go out, he always wore a hat or made an excuse to avoid crowded areas. 

One night, she offered to apply makeup on him.

So refused at first. He was too prideful and makeup was too “feminine”, but after much persuasion, she got him to agree.

“You can’t even tell,” she said. “Look!” 

She handed him the mirror and watched his eyes widen in surprise. It had been a long time since he was able to look at himself without staring at the wretched scar. 

“I guess it looks alright,” he mumbled. 

“Just alright?” she asked, snatching the mirror from him. She placed his face between her hands and smiled. “It looks great, So. Now we can actually go to the marketplace together and eat street food without you worrying about people staring at you. We can go to the park during the daytime!” 

“All you care about are dates dates dates,” he said, rolling his eyes.  

Soo frowned and let go of his face. She grabbed her makeup brushes and began placing them back into the bag, clearly upset by his reaction. 

Just as she began to walk away, So grabbed her arm and pulled her onto his lap. “I just meant,” he said, kissing her neck. “That I’d much rather spend my time with you here. Or more preferably, in my bed. Not surrounded by a bunch of strangers.” 

Soo tried to pull herself off him but he responded by tightening his hold on her. She began to laugh as he tickled her sides, his face still nuzzled against her neck. 

“This is amazing, Eun!” 

Soo stepped into the toy shop, So following behind her. She had dragged him from bed earlier that morning to come visit Eun. 

“It’s the grand opening. We have to go!” 

She spun around, amazed by all the toys and gadgets surrounding the store. Eun quickly stepped around the counter and pointed at a vintage slingshot in the display case.

“That’s my favorite,” he said, pulling it out. “It’s made exactly like how they were during the Goryeo era. Pretty cool, huh?” 

“Are you still a child?” So asked.

Soo elbowed him in the side. “What he means to say, is that this place looks great. We’re so excited for you.” 

“Hey So…your face! The scar’s gone,” Eun noted. 

“See? I told you!” she said, grinning up at him. So touched the side of his face but she quickly swatted his hand away. “You’ll mess it up if you keep touching it.” 

Eun’s face broke out in a grin as the front door opened. 

“You’re here!” he yelled out, quickly handing Soo the slingshot and rushing to the door. “I thought you had a class!” 

So turned and saw Soon Duk unwinding the scarf around her neck, her martial arts uniform peeking out under her coat. 

“Yeah, I thought you had a class,” So repeated. “I definitely don’t remember you having the day off.” 

“I had my father cover for me,” she explained. “He’s been wanting to teach a class.” 

“You’re father?” he scoffed. “I didn’t know he was in town…”

“Got in last night,” Eun said, taking his wife’s coat. 

“He meant to tell you but-” Soon Duk’s eyes widened when she saw So’s face, the scar nowhere in sight. “Your scar…”

“It’s amazing isn’t it?” Soo said, grabbing onto So’s hand. She knew he didn’t like all the attention and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “The power of makeup.” 

“Ah, speaking of makeup,” Soon Duk walked over to her and pointed at her face. “I need some more of your face masks, Soo. It’s getting so dry!” 

Soo offered to bring some by later that day and began walking around the store. She couldn’t believe how big a toy shop could really be until now. Eun really outdid himself. 

“How long are we staying here?” So asked, glancing around at all the toys. 

“We’ll leave in a little bit,” she said, pulling him behind a shelf of dolls. “But first…” 

Soo pushed him back into the wall and smiled up at him before placing a light kiss on his lips. When she pulled back, So stared down at her with amusement in his eyes.

“What was that for?” 

“For being such a trooper today,” she said, wrapping her arms around him. “I know you hate all the attention but you came out anyway.” 

“Well if you’re going to act like this all the time, maybe I should get out more…” 

Soo slapped him on the arm but continued to rest her head against his chest. 

Bing bing! 

Soo pulled out her phone and saw that the screen was full of messages. 

- Thanks for the new post, unnie! 

- Soo, the concealer tips were great. I’ve been having trouble finding the right kind but now I know which ones work with my skin type. 

- Yay a new post!

She smiled at all the replies and put her phone back in her purse. 

“Ready to go home?” she asked. 

So grabbed her hand and began walking towards the front of the store. “Well, I was thinking of taking a stroll around the park, but if you want to go home…”

“No! Let’s go!” she yelled out. “I mean, if you want to. I think it’s a great idea.” 

The corners of his lips twitched before his smile erupted into a laugh. “Since you say so, I guess we’ll have to go now.” 

They said goodbye to Eun and Soon Duk before heading out the door. Despite the cold weather, Soo felt the warmest she’d ever been. 

Note:  I just feel like Modern AUs have to be fluffy since they’re going through so much shit right now haha I hope you guys enjoyed this one! Now off to study for my exam! (Maybe) 

On Female Objectification in Superhero Movies and Why it Needs to Stop

Look, I love superhero movies, and this is a problem I’ve noticed in many of them, but I’m going to pick on Guardians of the Galaxy in this blog post.

Admittedly, I liked the movie, but here’s my issue with it (and superhero movies in general)–the lack of female characters AND the hypersexualization of most of the few female characters actually found in the film. (Zoe Saldana is a gorgeous, talented actress, but come on now; can we treat her like she’s a real human being and not a sexy piece of meat?)

Maybe I’m weird, but most of the time, I’d rather watch an action film, a superhero film, or a fantasy/sci-fi film than a rom com or anything that could be considered a chick flick. I like action. I like magic. I like blood and gore. I like people with super powers. I like monsters. I like fight scenes and car chases and fiery explosions. I like watching the heroine/hero kick the villain’s butt. Maybe my taste in movies isn’t like most women’s. Whatever. I know plenty of women who love superhero movies just as much as I do.

It pisses me off that Hollywood is still catering superhero movies to a straight male audience, clearly sending this message: “No Girls Allowed (Unless They Are Serving The Purpose Of Standing Here And Looking Pretty).” Girls in superhero movies (heck, most action movies) are generally treated as little more than eye candy (and sometimes, if they’re lucky, they get to kiss the hero).

Their “superhero” skills usually involve the art of seduction. No man can resist their feminine wiles. They can manipulate the hero (or the villain) to get what they want by being sexy, flirty, and seductive. You don’t see male superheroes using this particular skill set to manipulate other male superheroes or male villains.

They always look pretty, and they’re often barely clothed (or not clothed at all, as is Mystique’s case). I don’t have any problem with women wearing (or not wearing) what they want, but scantily clad women in superhero movies are constantly objectified. And it’s obvious they are dressed the way they are in order to appeal to straight men. They’re certainly not minimally dressed to appeal to straight women. THAT’S what I’ve got a problem with: the objectification.

And the number one purpose of a woman in a superhero movie, even if she’s a superhero herself (like Gamora), is to fall in love with the hero. (I was happy to see that Gamora, unlike other heroines, didn’t seem to fall for the hero’s charms. At least, not in this moment when she & Peter Quill almost kissed but she rejected him.)

It’s like the people who make these films think they can get away with being sexist while claiming not to be by throwing in one or two female characters. And hey, bonus–you should feel grateful because we’re doing your gender a solid by making the only female characters present in this movie super sexy! Isn’t that awesome!

No. No, it’s not awesome. It’s degrading. It’s infuriating. It’s humiliating and insulting. It further proves why we need feminism and what is wrong with Hollywood and our society in general. Women are PEOPLE. We are not OBJECTS. We aren’t FANTASIES. I don’t think I’m alone when I say this: I don’t enjoy being objectified, and I don’t like watching my entire gender be objectified either.

And if the tables were turned and men were the ones being objectified by women left and right and being treated as little more than a candy-wrapped sexual fantasy in movies, magazines, TV shows, music videos, and actual everyday life, how do you think men would react to that? Not great, right? Not well at all. (And yes, I realize male objectification happens sometimes too, but not nearly as much and not in the same demeaning, harmful way it does to women.)

It isn’t fun to be objectified, guys, and it’s not flattering. I don’t like being sent the message that my worth is tied to how pretty my face is and how good I look in a bikini (or a shiny, skintight superheroine bodysuit). I don’t like being told that yes, I can, in fact, kick butt and take names, AS LONG AS I LOOK SEXY AND MAKE A FEW MEN DROOL WHILE DOING IT. I don’t think any woman enjoys being sent this message.

Because WE know our worth isn’t tied to those things. So stop trying to feed us those lies, and please, for the love, put some more heroines in your superhero movies. And dress them in outfits that don’t make them look like strippers. (No men wear outfits like that in those movies; why do women have to?!) And make them respectable AND respected. Show their worth is found in their minds, their hearts, and their skills, not how svelte they look in catsuits. And don’t tie their importance to the heroes. Don’t make them only useful to the story line because they are love interests. Make them have their OWN story lines. 

Katniss Everdeen (Jennifer Lawrence) in The Hunger Games

Elizabeth Swann (Keira Knightley) in Pirates of the Caribbean: At World’s End

Hermione Granger (Emma Watson) in Harry Potter & the Deathly Hallows: Part One

Alice Kingsleigh (Mia Wasikowska) in Tim Burton’s Alice in Wonderland

Goodness knows women deserve to be the leads in movies just as much as men do. We have interesting, exciting, awesome, compelling stories to tell too. We CAN and DO save the world too. (And HELLO, we sell movie tickets!) If you don’t believe me, have you met Katniss Everdeen? Hermione Granger? Johanna Mason? Tris Prior? Ginny Weasley? Elizabeth Swann? Alice Kingsleigh? And countless others. Look ‘em up. (That’s not even mentioning heroines in superhero movies, like Babydoll from Sucker Punch, Storm and Rogue from X-Men, and Catwoman from The Dark Knight Rises.)

Babydoll (Emily Browning) in Sucker Punch

Storm (Halle Berry) in X-Men

Catwoman (Anne Hathaway) in The Dark Knight Rises

Thanks but no thanks for the crumbs. We don’t want crumbs. We want a whole freaking cake.

And please don’t try to feed me this line: “Well, they’re based on comic book characters, so…” Don’t. Just stop. There are plenty of female superheroes out there in Comic Book Land, and there’s no reason their costumes/looks/personas can’t be changed or updated. Hollywood takes liberties like that all the time. And if we run out of those characters, hey, new source material is always fantastic. I’m sure the filmmakers in Hollywood can come up with SOMETHING. That is, you know, their job. 

Please, Hollywood. Do better. I don’t want to hate or be ashamed of superhero movies, and I don’t want to have to stop watching them. Please do better.

Women deserve that.

– TL Milligan

on the sherlock special?

well, that didn’t clear up/answer anything. except, y’know. ev e ry thing??? (i’m sorry i’m still very confused but excited???)

I’m just going to assume that 98% of that is a huge hallucination, meaning that, we perceive the world strictly from Sherlock’s view. John and Mary’s situation? The influence Moriarty currently has over Sherlock’s mind? Sherlock’s constant battle between humanization (”You keep me right, John Watson… It’s always you.”) and being the sociopath he wants to be (”I am you! … I’ll burn the heart right out of you.”)? All there. I would only consider the bit near the end on the jet, before Sherlock leaves to baker street, and near the beginning where Sherlock admits to overdosing, to be canon. And even then - maybe not?? (I do love this episode. I really do.) 

speaking of overdosing, something a lot of people keep pointing out; I really want to know when/how he got ahold of those drugs.

Was he high while speaking to john? I want to say this is unlikely (”He didn’t seem high”). I also want to bring attention to how angry john was at sherlock (and hurt?? wow) to the point where I was almost surprised. I’d be upset, too, if my best friend endangered himself (fucking agaiN???) and invalidated his own goodbye/almost-admission-of-love by being under the influence.

Did he only think to drug himself himself after he got on the jet? Probably? I’d say so. I mean, sure, if we’re putting on our johnlock glasses - holy shit!! he’s because he’ll never see john again!! he’d rather die than leave jawn!!! - but there’s also the fact that he has about 6 months to live, as predicted by his, possibly dying, uncaring brother. On top of that, his best friend (and probable love interest) is left with an untrustworthy woman, their unborn child(!???!), and Sherlock likely views himself as the only one to blame. So, yeah, he’ll read Jawn’s shitty blog and mope. Can you blame him? (I mean, I love Johnlock, but saying it’s only about John seems a little unfair.)

Sherlock still reading John’s blog after finding out about Moriarty’s “resurrection” turns into a more… “This is what I sacrificed for Moriarty’s death. And it was all for nothing.” Or, maybe he’s considering, “If Moriarty is still alive, how extensive is his network? How far back does our connection go?” Maybe he’s reading those ‘anonymous’ comments, or those from ‘theimprobableone’ and he’s connecting the dots.

Then, of course, I have to wonder about Mycroft. It’s clear he’ll die in two years (As Victorian Sherlock predicts… repeatedly, or, perhaps, Sherlock’s subconscious just simply worried). And Mycroft… might know his own time is limited?

  • He’s being increasingly tender towards Sherlock, which doesn’t fit their brotherly rivalry. Him telling sherlock how he’s always been there, etc.(I have no doubt Mycroft really does care, but he’s better versed in the art of tough love. Why change it now? Though, the last Christmas before the whole CAM ordeal, and we see Mycroft still acting out of character.)
  • He tells John to take care of Sherlock… to either mean “After I’m gone…”, or, “Take better care of him” (As John has the ability to make or break Sherlock, said by Mycroft himself is S1)
  • Mary (who many speculate is connected with Moriarty somehow, after having been in the CIA and then done ‘freelance’. And there’s her disappearance, which has Napoleon of Crime written all over it. Of course, no one ever gets out of Moriarty’s employment and debt, you know. She’s a perfect pawn to burn John’s, and then Sherlock’s, heart out.) keeps interrupting Mycroft, showing him up, and illustrating his fall from power = Power shift from Mycroft towards Moriarty.

And there’s everything else the episode tells us about Sherlock, simply because it’s all from Sherlock’s point of view. Consider it a fanfiction written by yours truly. Quite meta, isn’t it? (”Stop shoving everything up it’s own ass!”)

  • Generally, modern-day scenes in the mind palace seem to = Sherlock’s perception of reality, and the Victorian era is closer to how things were/should be, though all of it is really a fantasy.
  • Sherlock’s finally addressing his own ingrained misogynistic views: Underestimating Mary (“If you take another step, I’ll shoot you” “No, Mrs. Watson, you won’t.”) How horribly he treated Molly Hooper. His usage and cruelty towards Janine (which she arguably knew about and instead, I believe, was using Sherlock). And Sherlock brushing dear Hudders aside as a mere plot device. Maybe this will change?
  • His self-loathing, or, at least, confusion with himself is reviewed. But really, Victorian!Watson is basically prodding him into a conversation about sexuality, one they’ve had before (”You know more about women than I, Watson”) and Sherlock shuts it down. Again. Maybe repression acts as a safety for him? Or he views himself as an obstacle? Either way, we know this is still a big question for Sherlock - he cares.
  • The idea that he is explicitly aiming to be what John expects/a sociopath is also highlighted at least twice (”Love is just a crack in the lens..” ”No, those were my words… I know you’re a human”)
  • We see Victorian!Mary and Sherlock deduces that her husband has been stolen by another. (Himself. Hah.)
  • Then seeing Sherlock’s version of reality (digging up a grave? er, just go with it. at least it’s modern-era) where John readily gets sick of Sherlock and leaves with Mary.
  • As a ‘replacement’ for John (like Molly temporarily was), Lestrade enters the picture to help Sherlock dig up the grave. Lestrade is the only one helping = Lestrade is Sherlock’s last reliable link.
  • And this is only after John leaves with Mary - I’d say Sherlock saw himself losing John to Mary, and was worried about this. And with the “Quip Rule” (anything that makes the audience laugh has a deeper meaning), “I’m taking Mary home”/”Mary’s taking me home”, we know it probably holds importance. 
  • Sherlock is completely aware of John’s jealousy towards Irene Adler. And has been, for a long time. (And he’s still bothered by it!)

and of course,“It’s never twins.” Maybe we can actually take something at face value for once. I doubt it, though.