i'm sorry it's 3 am

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from a mountain in the middle of the cabins // panic! at the disco

Last Chapter Update

Whoo. My week has been packed and I am very tired and ouchy. I also just spent the last hour and a half doing some major Home organizing and crunched  some numbers according to my plot outline:

There are 57 drawings remaining; 27 of those are absolutely essential and must be included in the last chapter. I just counted my drawings and I have 30 (almost 31!) finished.

Which brings us back to my original claim back in August that the last chapter would have 60 drawings (31+27 = close enough). The drawings that aren’t essential would be adorable and funny, but I think I will have to omit them since… Since I don’t want to post the last chapter in 2021.

Soooooo according to my calculations, since it takes me about 4 days (14-24 solid hours) to complete one drawing, it will take me 108 days to finish the last essential 27…. AKA, 3.5 months. Factoring in family dinners and other distractions, I’ll round up to four months. So…

New estimate: Chapter 18 will be posted in late June.

A few have already started proclaiming their disapproval/lost interest due to the time I’ve spent already. I really want you, my beautiful and kind readers, to know that it pains me dearly to delay the last chapter as long as I am, but I’m adamant about ending Home right. These drawings are very warm, colorful and detailed, and it will wrap up everything in the best, fuzziest, happiest way.

Thank you for your endless patience ♥

7

HAPPY NEW YEAR!🎊🎈🎆

idk if anyone’s done this already but a Sportarobbie hospital AU, where Robbie is a talented surgeon and Sport is a nurse who helps him in the operating theatre.

Sport thinks that Robbie is so gifted at what he does and how he saves people, and Robbie just thinks of it as a job and doesn’t see much else to it. he’s pretty private and always sits on his own in the break room and doesn’t socialise with others.

one day someone is rushed in for emergency surgery and Robbie can’t save them, even after trying all he can. he’s really shaken about it and Sport can’t help himself and tries to get Robbie to open up and talk about it. eventually, Robbie cries and talks to Sportacus and they share a heart to heart on the steps outside the hospital. after that, Robbie says hi to Sportacus every time they pass each other, and Sportacus sits with Robbie in the cafeteria.

blah, blah, they fall in gay love.

okay you know what pisses me off? the fact that every other love interest kara has had, it has ended because of things that happen have even to her and mon-el

with adam, she didn’t think it was meant to be because they were always interrupted (via kidnapping or other means). with james, it was the same damn thing. they were getting interrupted constantly. that led her to think that the universe was telling her not to do it, that she wasn’t ready and needed to focus on her

now, i’m not knocking that. i’m knocking the fact that that same shit happens with mon-el. their first kiss was under a poison/drug induced mon-el who pretended it never happened. their other “flirtations” were interrupted or kara showed obvious disinterest. and their latest “thing” was interrupted again. but kara will bend over backwards to make this work, right? because he’s basic straight cis white boy #3 and that’s who she’s meant to be with because oh don’t the cw just love their basic white boys who give nothing to the plot but take everything from the leading ladies and the men of colour who should be getting the screen time (and the girl), and also the lesbians

“Scoot.”

Yoongi blinked once, then twice before looking up at Hoseok.

The other had obviously just come out of the shower, his hair frazzled and wet with a towel draped around his neck. As for himself, Yoongi was still wearing the clothes given to him for MAMA, the glitter and sequins sticking uncomfortably to his skin.

After the members had all arrived home from the show, bumping shoulders and tittering with nervous energy, they had rather quickly began winding down for a much-needed rest. Now the entirety of their group seemed to be asleep save for Yoongi, who was sitting on the kitchen floor, and Hoseok, who was standing above him and dripping on said kitchen floor.

They stared at each other and for a second, Yoongi considered just ignoring the request. But as if reading his mind, Hoseok poked a bare foot into his side with a huff.

“Yah, don’t ignore me.”

Yoongi rolled his eyes but complied, shuffling over on the tiles to give Hoseok enough space to plop down beside him. Flecks of water flew against his skin, and Yoongi frowned slightly as he moved the towel around Hoseok’s neck onto his wet hair.

“I told you to dry yourself properly when you get out of a shower. You’re going to catch a cold.”

The younger’s laughter bounced across the room. “Says the guy who’s drinking beer on the kitchen floor.”

Yoongi blinked, and looked down to realize that he did indeed have a glass bottle hanging precariously in his light grasp. Rather than answer back, he took a swig of the now rather lukewarm drink, and Hoseok laughed once again, understanding the concede of defeat for what it was.

Hoseok reached over and grabbed the glass, taking a large gulp himself and finishing it off with a contented sigh before setting the bottle down on the floor with a delicate click. And then there was silence, for what seemed like an eternity– just the sound of their breaths moving in and out.

“Hyung, you should go to bed.”

Yoongi made a sound, something between a grunt and a groan, that made Hoseok smile slightly. Yoongi felt a light touch on his chin, guiding him to turn towards the other, and he complied willingly, only to be met with a face full of wet towel.

His rather unattractive squawk of protest was muffled by the cotton as Hoseok rubbed it across his face vigorously, giggling the entire time. After a few seconds of flailing, Yoongi did manage to pry the towel away from him with a deep scowl, only to be met with a bright heart-shaped grin.

“Ah ha! There’s Min Yoongi! I knew you were hiding in there somewhere.”

And just like that, all of Yoongi’s words shriveled up in his throat as Hoseok rested their foreheads together and stared into his eyes with a fond smile.

“Yoongi-yah, let’s go to bed.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered across Hoseok’s face, as he felt something well up in his chest: something dangerous and terrifying, something that he would never be selfish enough to ask for.

But maybe.

But maybe.

“Okay.”

Just Another Mafia AU 3 (still needs a name)

Wow! There was such a huge reaction last chapter, I am very honoured. I really love each and everyone of you who reblogged, liked or commented. Seriously. So much. I hope this stands up to the hype though. It is actually only the first part of what was going to be this chapter, but it got so long that I split it in two. I hope you enjoy it xx

Part 2: http://classicalcassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/155393084558/another-mafia-au-2-i-need-a-title-for-this

———————


III. Newt And Percival

Curling russet hair, hazel eyes shining gold in the mid morning sun, a pale face spattered liberally with freckles. Long aristocratic nose and wide mouth. Percival felt his mouth go dry. Jesus Christ.

“Sir? I’m Newt Scamander, the owner of this practice. How can I help you today?” Oh and he sounded like an angel too. Percival barely took in his white coat, unbuttoned to the waist over a royal blue jumper and white shirt. One thought was in his mind; he had to impress this man.

“Ah, yes.” Not a great start Percival, keep going. “I just came here this fine morning to thank you.” Yes. That was good as an opener. Said what he wanted, not at all forward. Good.

“I, uh, what for? I mean, you’re welcome?” He appeared bewildered. Shit.

“Last night, you saved some particular friends of mine. I am greatly indebted to you.” Percival took the hand resting on the counter and bent over as if to kiss it. Ha! Now he had done it, dear Mr Scamander had to understand this time. And he fitted a kiss in! He basked in a glow of self-satisfaction, even as the hand was hastily withdrawn with a delightful squeak.

“Oh, no, that was no problem, Hippocratic oath and all, do no harm, help who you can, I mean, you’re very welcome, um-” the other man it himself off, blushing a very fetching pink in the face (and ears, Percival noted with delight). Oh sweet baby Jesus he was adorable. Percival kind of wanted to listen to him talk forever. “Are they well though? Your friends?” He seemed to have steadied himself and was now watching him intently with the protective gaze of a mother hen.

“Oh yes, they’re fine. The doctor that check them said it was most excellent work, highly professional. She was highly impressed. As am I.” Nice segue. He could do this. “So I was wondering if I could give you a little show of my gratitude.” He dropped his voice low at the end of the sentence. And- oh look, there was that blush. “You, me, dinner tonight? How ‘bout it.”

The redhead took a moment to respond. “I am honoured, really I am, but I don’t need your gratitude.” He met Percival’s eyes for the first time so far. Percival’s knees went a little weak. “I do what I do because I want to help people. My actions last night were taken in that spirit. If I can save even one life with my work then I consider it more than worthwhile. So I understand that you are grateful for your friends survival, and I thank you for it. But I couldn’t accept your offer as recompense for it. And I especially couldn’t accept it for dinner tonight, as I open late every other day.” Oh shit. This man wasn’t going to accept it as a debt, was too proud for that. He was goddamned perfect.

“Then will you accept it as a date with me? No strings attached, just a nice dinner. Whenever you like?” He slung out the offer before he could really think it over.

For a moment, silence prevailed. Then a little smile turned up one corner of Scamander’s mouth. “Yeah. Yes, alright. One date.” Yes! Well done Percival, he patted himself on the back. It had taken a while but he had got there in the end. He felt his face crease into a foreign soft smile.

“OK. OK, that’s great thank you so much. I can give you my number, yeah? Call anytime.” He fished a pen from his jacket pocket and nabbed a leaflet from the counter to write his number, eagerly shoving it over the counter to the other man.

“I will.” The copper head smiled at the paper and slipped it in his breast pocket, folding it gently. Percival nodded.

“Right. Great. Well, I guess I will be going then. I eagerly await your call.” He gave a slight bow and reluctantly turned to leave. He had made it out the door, whose lighthearted closing bell seemed to mock him, and had gone a few metres up the street before he heard a call.

“Wait! Wait.” Scamander had run out after him and was half out the door. “Who are you?” He called up the street. Percival paused in horror. Tina, who had gone ahead of him, was shaking silently with laughter. He turned and walked backwards, affecting a casual demeanour he definitely didn’t feel.

“Graves. My name is Percival Graves.” With a jaunty wave he stepped into the Mercedes and left Scamander on the sidewalk. An air of mystery, that would salvage that fact that he hadn’t even introduced himself.

“Wow.”

“Shut up Tina.”

“No seriously I have never seen you fuck up a conversation in quite such an impressive manner. Or recover that well either. I’m just saying, you got lucky there.”

“Oh fuck off.”

Newt, for his part, thought that Percival Graves was potentially the most attractive person in New York. When the man had first come in Newt had been in the back unloading the free flu jabs he would be offering in winter, and he had thought him just another customer. Big mistake. The moment Newt had hurried to the front and seen the man he had instantly regretted not cleaning himself up a little.

He was smoking hot. Seriously. Tall, well dressed. Broad shoulders and trim waist. Salt and pepper hair and consuming dark eyes, an air of danger. Looked like he could hold him down and just take him. Exactly Newt’s type. He had given his introduction by force of habit. And then- then he began to speak.

His voice was like silk or dark chocolate or something equally cheesy, Newt had thought, slightly dazed. Very good on the ear. Soothing. He could listen to this man recite the phone book and be entranced. He only really noted what the guy had said an embarrassingly long time after he had spoken. Newt made it through the conversation in a halting fashion, until the man had kissed his hand. The brand hot fire of his lips on pale flesh made him squeak in a manner his mother would certainly have punished him for.

Stuttering past the haze in his head and burning on his cheeks, he managed to force a focus on the twelve patients last night. None of them had been critical wounds; three gunshots, two to the legs and one in the shoulder. Seven knife slashes on the arms and abdomen. A couple of concussions he could do nothing about. It was obviously underground though, and this man said he was their friend…what if he was their squad leader? Newt couldn’t bring himself to regret his actions in saving them, a life was a life to him, but. The Mafia. The Mafia he was kind of hiding from. He had come to the USA under his own name because the underground there was very unfriendly to the British one and unlikely to give him away to his family out of spite, if nothing else.

Then this man had offered Newt dinner. Now, Newt would very gladly have dinner with him. It may be a bad decision given his past, but Newt was a master of bad decisions. It was practically his MO. However, the slight the offer cast on him, the way he had implied Newt would have to be recompensated, like the men’s survival and wellbeing wasn’t payment enough. He could not let the man continue with that opinion of him. Thankfully, his rebuttal hadn’t put Percival Graves off at all. If Newt was any judge of behaviour then the man had seemed even more eager to have dinner.

He had given in. Percival seemed attracted to him, he was definitely attracted to Percival. Why not? Giving his permission and receiving a number in return, he was entranced by the smile on the other’s face. He seemed so genuinely happy to have dinner. A fizzle erupted in Newt’s belly. Would asking about his availability tomorrow come across as too needy? Before he could even ask, the man and his friend had left the surgery. It was only as he reached out for his phone to program the number in that he had realised that he didn’t even know his name. Dashing out the door after him in the hopes of catching him before he left, Newt threw caution to the wind. In the daylight of the street, he had appeared even more inhumanly attractive. As the man drove away, Newt’s returned to the back room. Percival Graves. What a man.

In the end, they did have that date. Newt didn’t summon up the courage to call until the next day, so they set a dinner date up for that weekend at Percival’s favourite restaurant. He had decided against a fancy one, it would be a bit too extravagant for a first date. Instead they went to a smaller, but still classy place, with an excellent variety of Indian dishes.

It was there that Percival learned that Newt was vegetarian, heard from his own mouth some of his experiences from his travels across Europe and Asia, found out that he had picked up four languages as he went “because it would be rude to just expect people to know English” and was still in contact with a great deal of people he had helped.

Newt for his part, managed to tease out stories of Percival’s time at NYU studying business and politics, tales of his parents and of his friends. He manfully ignored Tima and Queenie having dinner together a few tables away with a couple of other guards. In the days after calling so set up the date, Newt had done his research. The Graves name was whispered on the grapevine as the kingpin of most of New York, who had risen over the last ten or so years from a mid-level group to incorporate almost every gang in the city. The boss was rumoured to be one of the most brutally deadly men alive, with the most fearsome assassins under his command - who it seemed, were having a competition over who could stuff the most breadsticks in their bag without the waiter noticing. As for the boss himself, he was winding up a story about how he and his college friends had pranked the dean by stealing all his office furniture then flogging it in a college-wide auction. Newt found himself giggling helplessly by the end of it.

“So, you really got away with it? He couldn’t find the proof of who did it?”

“Not quite. He knew it was us, but the whole college population thought it was a great joke and everyone said that they had done it. He could hardly expel the entire student body. He was fuming for months though.”

Newt burst out laughing again. He hadn’t laughed so much for a very long time, and his sides ached but Percival had put him so much at ease, was so considerate and lovely that he was falling dangerously fast for the mobster.

Percival was so happy. He didn’t even mind disclosing some of his more foolish moments if it made Newt glow like that. He too had the file on Newt expanded. Queenie’s contacts in the UK had managed to expound on the reasons for his feeing the country; according to one of the ex-maids of the Scamander Manor, he was treated more as a piece of furniture than a person by his parents. The neglect had been entrenched from childhood- from neglecting to pick him up from Westminster School at the end of semesters, to leaving him the care of the servants his whole life, they shows not an ounce of care for him and his wellbeing. His brother, Theseus, tried his best but was forbidden from interacting too much with Newt. The maid had gone on the emphasise how kind he was to the staff, how he tried his best to protect them from his parents whims. They were all glad when he ran away, she had confided, he deserved better. Everything he had heard made Percival’s blood boil. Getting to know the sweet young man over dinner had been one of the most enjoyable nights of his life.

They had parted ways that night with the promise to meet again the next week. Newt had even summoned the courage to kiss Percival’s cheek “as repayment” just before he ran down the steps to the subway, his face glowing red. He left Percival standing with his hand on his face, smiling helplessly. Even as his men caught up and he was ushered into his car, he was quiet.

“He seems nice.”

“He is. He is wonderful.”

“Way out of your league though.”

“Tina I swear to god-”

That was the precursor for several more dates of that kind. Between Newt’s punishing work schedule and Percival’s obligations both legal and not, they revelled in the hours they kept solely for each other. They didn’t progress further than kisses on the cheek and hand, though both silently wanted to. This seemed too important to rush. Instead Percival took Newt to art galleries and restaurants, and Newt pulled Percival out on walks through the city absorbing the buzz and life of the place. A month passed like this, their cozy hours together uninterrupted by many cares as they fell further and further in love. As far as Percival was concerned, this could have gone on forever, albeit with more action of the sexual variety. Sadly, this was not to be the case.

It was a Wednesday mid afternoon tea break that changed everything.

———— Part 3.5: http://classicalcassiopeia.tumblr.com/post/155715952508/another-mafia-au-35-i-have-given-up-this-is-the
3am thoughts

What if Calvin one night before going bed or whenever his bored, scrolls through some tumblr accounts ? What if he sees someone and falls in love ? What if one day you wake up and see that he messaged you ? What if a few months later you become friends? What if after those months you two become something more? What if you wake up the next morning and you see the soft yet messy brown ish black haired boy laying next to you, slowly opening his eyes… those perfectly shaped eyes that shine as bright as the stars… What if… You was his, and he was yours ?

Happy New Year!! (To those of you who inexplicably continued to follow this blog despite the fact that my posting rate has trickled off quite badly.) I’m still reading and bookmarking and loving a substantial number of fics, but I’m afraid I haven’t made the time to sit down for thorough re-reads with an eye toward writing up full recs that would do them justice.

So, in an attempt to make up for this terrible neglect, I’ve gathered together a list of some (not all, of course!) of the Sterek fics I’ve enjoyed over the past year. Hopefully I’ll be able to set aside more time in 2015 to write about these in detail, as well as other wonderful fics that you may or may not have already discovered.

Despite everything that’s happened with the show and fandom in recent months, there are an astonishing number of creative, beautifully-written fics still being produced. Sterek will always be the OTP of my heart, and it’s amazing to see all the ways their story twists and turns in each talented author’s hands. I look forward to seeing what 2015 brings.

Play Crack the Sky | Derbobbs ( wearethecyclones) | Mature | 122,797

This fic. Oh my goodness, this fic. I wish I had more space right now to express the ways it hit every chord in my heart, bringing back fond memories from my very earliest fic-reading days (~17 years ago). It is, quite simply, a beautiful novel. And, to my surprise, it didn’t rip my heart out, even though I anxiously read it as a WIP, holding my breath and expecting the worst around every corner. It’s well worth the ride.

Come with Me and Walk the Longest Mile | DevilDoll | Explicit | 39,257

Speaking of authors who do make a habit of ripping your heart out through your throat and somehow making you love the process…this was another lovely surprise. It’s remarkably sweet, considering both the author and the setting. It’s also a road trip fic, which is one of my not-so-hidden weaknesses. Put these two in a car for weeks on end and have them talk and fall in love, and I am hooked. Add in DevilDoll’s impeccable characterizations and unerring emotional honesty, and you have an unforgettable experience.

Phases of the Weaker Heart | calrissian18 (wellhellsbells) | Teen | 16,197

I actually did write a full rec for this one, but I’m including it again because it meant so much to me. I think it’s possible that some Sterek fans skimmed over the description and the pre-slash rating and assumed it wasn’t actually about their relationship. While it is an Allison-centric fic (part of what makes it particularly beautiful), Derek and Stiles and their budding romance are absolutely crucial to the narrative. Some fics dig into your heart and stay with you long past the first read. This is one of those.

What I Did On My Summer Vacation | grimm (coyotequeens) | Explicit | 118,749

If I sat down and listed everything I could possibly want in a single fic, this one would cover nearly all of them. Not only that, it does it extraordinarily well. Fullwolf!Derek, magic!Stiles, alive!Laura, the Sheriff and Derek bonding, a whole town that’s aware of the supernatural, and much, much more. It makes me think, oddly, of a show like Gilmore Girls, where the town as a whole is as much of a character as the individuals. It’s a world that’s easy to sink into for 100k while barely noticing the time pass. Honestly, with so many new fics constantly popping up on my dash and in my inbox, it can be hard to go back and re-read longer fics. This one is worth returning to more than once.

Keep reading

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He who fights with monsters might take care lest he thereby become a monster. And if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you.

Because I’ve been so excited about the recent Person of Interest season finale, I decided to revisit my older paintings of Reese and Finch - they are among, if not actually, my favorite portraits I’ve ever done, and deserved some touchup and refinement. This show has come so far and raises such interesting questions - it’s a privilege to paint these characters (and hopefully I’ll do more this year during the hiatus!)

You can buy prints and products of “He Who Fights Monsters” and “The Abyss Gazes Back” at my Society6 shop!