its not on her website yet but it will be eventually

Homestuck Meta Theory

Alright, so I know there’s a lot of people disappointed with the ending, again, I sound like a broken record by this point. And don’t get me wrong- While I love the ending, I would still love to see more of the characters and the story! I just feel it’s a good end as it is. I’ve made a lot of theories about what the End means and everything about Act 7, but all of the things I said, about the Jujus, about becoming freed from Paradox Space, it made me think about the rest of the story, and I believe it has made my entire idea of what Homestuck is change.

So the big question here is, what IS Homestuck? Most people, including me, when talking to someone who knows nothing about it, will speak about the story, the 4 Kids playing SBURB, and the subsequent destruction of Earth. And then mention its huge amount of references towards programming languages, popular culture, storytelling in itself, and it’s self-referential nature. But this Ending has got me thinking that maybe the reason why so many people have been disappointed in the End is because they got Hussie’s intentions wrong.

We tend to reference how the humor and the nature of Homestuck’s narrative is a little extra onto the story, and while it is true the story itself and the characters have drawn a big part of the Fandom, I thought… What if the important part of the Narrative isn’t the Story, but the Meta elements.

As soon as I made connection, everything about the ending began to fall into place. I have commented before that I feel Act 7 is like being shown the Good Ending of a video game without seeing its Neutral Route. 

The Kids have Earth, and Juju Vriska uses manages to flip the ending so that instead of being trapped by Paradox Space’s rules…

They manage to ‘End’ the game properly and get their Happy Ever After.

All while Caliborn is shown getting his power of Immortality, and while we’re left ambiguous about what happens to Vriska and Lord English and everyone in the Dream Bubbles…

Another thing people have complained about is the Character Arcs.

They say how ‘different’ the timeline is. What was the point of Rose’s alcoholism if then Vriska just swats the drink away and it never had any relevance anymore? Terezi’s relationship with Gamzee never happened. Dave and Karkat got together? The Game Over Timeline is bad, everyone agrees that people dying is never good, but they also claim that suddenly having all that Character Development changed made them unable to relate to some characters anymore.

And of course there’s always the mention of how Vriska, even though she’s an abusive 8itch, ended up being somewhat of a heroine, or at the very least not seemingly getting too punished…

That’s where the Narrative itself told us there was something off.

DAVE: rose we dont have fuckin “arcs” we are just human beings

Many have mentioned it, about how not having a closure to certain character arcs referenced this portion, the notion that the characters didn’t have an arc. The same way she then references Jade breaking Endgame ships and such. Rose’s power is Light, and her information source comes from the same place as SBURB and Skaia. It’s a game. Of course she’d have the notion that all of them have to fit certain predisposed stereotypes or their stories have to follow a certain pattern- Rose is looking at their lives since SBURB started as it has been. A Story.

But Dave is having none of it. Dave is beyond the thought that all they do has to follow a set pattern, and claims they don’t have character arcs. This might sound like a clever device by Hussie so he didn’t have to explore more of each of these character’s lives and he could close the comic leaving some loose ends but, there’s more.

Hussie? As an entity? Exists within the story. This would be all fun and dandy if it were a couple of stupid references and memes. And that’s what many people think! Most of his appearances in canon have been a joke, really. But…

Hussie joked about his influence on the comic, when his bot-self was about to mess up with the Kids in the Yellow Yard, but eventually didn’t do it. And yet? His fight with Vriska. His interactions with Caliborn. Everything pictured above? Hussie is a physical entity that follows the same rules as everyone else in Paradox Space and can influence the story. But he’s not a self-insert. He IS the Author. He is the one who wrote every of these characters and continued the story. He’s not another character, he’s himself, in the Homestuck Universe.

And then it began to dawn on me, that perhaps the Meta aspect of Homestuck was a bit more than Fourth-Wall Breaking fun and references to real life stuff. Of course, this train of thought led me to another main plot device that has never exactly been explained to its full extent. Jujus.

There’s the Sucker…

The Crowbar…

The House Juju…

A lollipop that could change character’s personalities, making them immediately make up for aaaall of their mistakes without a care in the world, start alchemizing new weapons, and end up exactly where they needed to be.

A crowbar that can break other of these mysterious devices, and more importantly, has been shown to be able to interact with the Website itself, which seems to be its own physical entity as well!

A house that gave John the ability to change the story, and that ended up being used against the Big Bad of the entire comic.

A puppet that trapped the Souls of various characters and became the gateway for the Big Bad of the comic to become who he is.

A mysterious pair of rings that oh so conveniently appear and disappear on characters, and leave you wondering what they really do, but clearly shown to at least be able to revive someone who, by no other means in the story, would have been able to get back to the world of the living.

Jujus are mysterious, when you look at them from the perspective of the characters. They have no beginning, no end, they just appear at some point and do a loop through time, ending up exactly where they appeared first. They are powerful artifacts able to change reality itself, with no explained origin… But we are no characters. We have seen what these things do on the comic through its entire lengths.

Jujus are plot devices meant to alter the Meta of the comic. They are not things that make sense in a true physical reality. They are artifacts that alter the rules of the plot. Because that’s what the plot is. A story. Because Homestuck is not real, and it acknowledges this.

Or at least… It was supposed to acknowledge this. Many have also claimed that the last updates were so disappointing, compared to Cascade, as Cascade managed to solve so many plot points, but this last one felt empty of everything. Plot. Character Development. That’s where Jujus and Hussie come in.

Hussie dies, in his own comic, a comic that acknowledges him as the actual AUTHOR of the events taking place. And later, we see…

Caliborn, the young version of Lord English, acknowledging Hussie’s death, as he takes the rest of Act 6 and makes it his. Through the use of the Command Prompt, through his own drawings, he begins to write his own story.

[S] Cascade had so many plot points resolved, and these last updates didn’t. Because that is the point. Ever since Act 5 ended and Act 6 started, Hussie has begun to lose control of the story. He was killed by Lord English, the big bad, who also took control of the narrative. Vriska acknowledges a narrator speaking, and forces the narrative to shift back to her opening the Juju chest out of frustration. The command prompts, John’s retcons- At this point, Hussie is no longer in control of his characters.

The Game Over timeline was bad, but it felt like it had more Character Development. That is because it was a not-retconned Timeline. The characters had struggles, the plot moved on forward, some people was possessed, it was all prime material for a conflict and a resolution afterwards! But Aranea’s intervention made it a Doomed Timeline. A Bad End. We all know how Doomed Timelines work, so everything that happens there would have been totally irrelevant. But John didn’t want to accept that. Roxy was still alive, and sad. And Terezi wanted him to fix things up. So instead of acknowledging he was in a Doomed Timeline, like Roxy did? Roxy, who saw her mother-daughter die in her arms, and claimed there might be nothing left for them. And meanwhile, John just managed to get his powers ready, zapped back in time and solved everything.

New problems arose in the new Timeline, sure, but not as many. And a lot of the character arcs were suddenly shoved back. Rose no longer struggles with alcoholism, Karkat doesn’t chase after Terezi, and becomes Matesprits with Dave after mellowing down. Gamzee, one of the biggest dangers, is shoved back by Vriska until he’s barely relevant anymore.

And all of this might just be me trying to find an explanation to the sudden loose ends not being tied. But I think, all of this, was meant to express more than Hussie rolling the story back or changing the story to fit other things. No.

We go back to Dave’s words. We’re real people, we don’t have arcs. We are real people. In a comic, where the author is a character, and that always acknowledges it’s a comic? Dave saying they’re real people is big. It was taken as a joke, because they are characters, come on! Right? … Right?

Well of course they are. But that’s the thing. Up until Act 6, all of the various characters were nothing more than that. And even during the Game Over Timeline, they were nothing more than that. But Hussie’s death, the ghosts, no longer relevant, trying to fight back against Lord English? Caliborn’s acknowledgement of a story and trying to take control of it? And finally, John’s powers.

The House Juju gave John something more important than being able to change the Timeline.

The ability to make Selfcest canon.

Wait no- That wasn’t it.

The ability to alter the plot to his own whims.

John’s zapping doesn’t follow the rules of Paradox Space. It allows him to change the timeline as he wishes and it still be the Alpha. Not only that, but he can also warp out of the story itself, sending people and things to the background of the website.

It’s when Vriska starts to try and find this Juju that everything about the narrative begins to shift gears. John now can change the plot. Which means he is not adhering to the rules that bound them all anymore. He can go back, bring people who were dead back to life, save his friends, and aid them get a better ending.

And in this new timeline he’s changed? Everyone seems a bit different. They have gone through different things, and are as confused as anyone else about what is going on. This is the moment where these characters stop being characters.

This isn’t a story about Four Kids playing a Game, getting involved in Shenanigans and trying to live a happy ever after as villains try to plot on destroying them and reality. Homestuck is the tale of the characters from a webcomic, becoming self-aware, and escaping the grasp of the author and the narrative.

I don’t know if this is what Hussie intended, and if it is, at what point he planned to start leading the story this way. I might just be crazy and be reading too much into this? But as I see it? It closes every single loophole in this story.

Doomed Timelines are meant to be nothing. They are meant to fade, and not be relevant anymore. But the ghosts are having none of this. They WANT to be relevant in this story again. They create an army, and head off to defeat the biggest threat in the entire comic.

Caliborn knows reality itself isn’t as it seems, and tries to make his own story within it. He strives to become almighty, and then begins to destroy and rend reality itself so he can make way for his own rule.

Vriska knows she’s in a story, having interacted with the very Author and the command prompt! But she is not trying to change the story- All the opposite. Vriska follows the rules of the story, closes loopholes from what she has seen, but tries to be the one who causes everything. She wants to be in the spotlight of this tale. She creates Bec Noir just because she had seen it in her screen. And knowing this is a story, she goes off of her way to find methods to defeat each of these villains, at any cost. Because in a story, once she defeats these big, powerful foes, she’ll be a heroine, and everyone will regard her so highly, she’ll be over everyone else. Just like she wants.

John? I don’t think he knows he’s in a story. But he has the power to alter it. And after he begins to mess with the timeline, the rules of Paradox Space begin to shatter around him and his friends. Time loops, Rules, Plot, why would they care about how a story goes, if it’s not a story, it’s their lives. They just want to be happy and get away from this cycle of destruction and death.

I’d even go as far as to say God Tier Calliope knows this. If her Land and her Earth were anything like Caliborn’s, she might also been in contact with the command prompt. Perhaps the fact her entire mission was a self-sacrifice to collapse the Green Sun represented how she, too, saw Paradox Space as what it was- A construct that kept these characters trapped as that. Characters. And the only way to escape its grasp was the erase its very existence, using Lord English’s destruction to tear a hole through the comic, and destroy it.

In this way, everything that happens towards the ending makes perfect sense. There are hundreds, thousands, who knows how many timelines, in which every plot hole will be closed. But we’re not following these. It would be easy to cause, say, the Condesce to wake up. Because of her immortality curse given by Lord English. Or the Draconian Dignitary get to the Frog Lily Pad. Something happens, interrupts the kids from entering to the new Session, and bam! Suddenly more plot! Their entrance to the Universe is blocked. Terezi worries about Vriska, so they begin to plot a way to help her defeat Lord English. The black hole in the Session that likely leads to Caliborn’s land becomes relevant, and they all have a trip to beat up Caliborn. Something happens to Calliope, her ring has ended up in Caliborn’s hands as well, he traps the kids, the Alphas beat him up, all loops are closed, we have a bittersweet, predictable ending. And this has happened. In many timelines before. Over, and over. Perhaps the one we’re following isn’t even the Alpha, for that very reason.

But it doesn’t matter. I talked about how the Jujus were a way to alter the plot, and let’s go back to this, and look at my theory about the Kids Souls being Trapped for all eternity in this Juju. The moment Caliborn uses this Juju, he kickstarts the entirety of the rules of Paradox Space. These kids we follow through the story, are trapped in a plot, with rules dictated by narrative that they HAVE to adhere too.

Then the ghosts decide that this is bullshit, and that they, even after death, want to still be relevant. Instigated by Vriska and Meenah, and aided by Aranea’s mind control, they manage to find a way they can alter the plot once again, a Juju. John touches this Juju, and suddenly he gains the power to alter this plot as well, and begins his and his friend’s journey to escape the clutches of Paradox Space and the comic itself.

John was trapped in the house all along. So of course, shoving his arm through it? He managed to grasp at the other side. He got a taste of what it was to be free. And he gained the power of changing the plot as a result.

Then, Vriska becomes alive again. She’s relevant, and bashes down on her ghost self. Ghost self that had at one point tried to make herself relevant, even though since she’s dead she shouldn’t be. This way, Vriska proves that, while she acknowledges the story as a story, and wants to be always present and in the middle, she never sees it as something she has to escape. She has no character development, because now, in this timeline that John has changed, she’s free to do whatever she wants, she’s her own person without a character arc, but doesn’t find the need to become said person. She doesn’t want to change, she wants to keep following the plot, and take down the big bad.

So Vriska takes the house Juju from her alternate self, goes against Lord English, beats up the Author of the comic itself as a last Fuck You, and then uses the Juju towards him. And this is when Alive Vriska makes her big mistake. By following this plot, this story, the Juju house crashes behind her…

She’s on Lord English’s side of the house. Because both of them know the comic is just that, a story. He knows about the narrative, and the author. So he kills the author, and becomes the big evil that must be defeated. Meanwhile, Vriska knows about the narrative, and the author, so she beats up the author and tries to become the heroine.

Caliborn and Vriska could very well strive to break free of Paradox Space in other ways, but instead they do what they do best- Be themselves, and fuck shit up in the process. And it’s this mentality that in the end, as the House Juju appears, tells us that both of them have been doomed. Doomed to be trapped in this Collapsing Paradox Space there’s no escape from.

Except there is an escape.

Because the door opens. It opens for the Kids and Trolls on the lily pad. And it opens for the Ghost Army and everyone else in the Bubbles. These are people that have been living aside from the story for a long time. The ones that are alive in the Session have had John change everything and the events happening after make them question Paradox Space itself. And the dead ones or the ones just stuck in the Furthest Ring? They fear being forgotten. They fear being erased by the collapsing Paradox Space, and had faced Lord English to try and become relevant once more.

Of course Condy’s curse didn’t wake her up. Of course DD didn’t appear. The moment the Juju appears, the story is done. There is no more plot. Because it’s not a story. The ones wanting to follow the plot are now seeing it crumble, seeing everything end. And the ones that wanted to become relevant against Paradox Space- Why would they need to even follow the rules? They are trying to escape them.

The Plot Holes are part of the plot in itself. John and everyone else didn’t need to fill it up. Because they are not part of the story anymore. We didn’t see their character arcs close. Because they are not characters anymore. They are not characters anymore. They don’t need to show us they have grown- Or maybe they haven’t even grown. They are always growing, learning. But now, they have escaped this evil Universe that trapped them and forced into cruel and crueler situations. They have escaped to a peaceful realm. They don’t need to keep following the story. They are happy and free to live their lives however they want.

They are finally happy.


Asphodel and Nightshade

My interpretation of Hannibal and Will as Hades and Persephone, Alphonse Mucha style. Originally planned for the @hannibalcreative​ HannibalOdyssey event, but I’m way past deadline since this turned out to be a LOT more complicated/detailled than I’d originally planned.

If you’re interested in the symbolism of this piece, check it out under the cut!

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answering asks!

ok i answered more than i usually do this time just to clean out my inbox so lessssgo

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Shawn hands me the phone when he’s done uploading the picture and I look at the image, the caption underneath it saying, “Us and our son.” 

Pairing: Shawn Mendes x non-gender specific character 
Rating: Explicit
Words: 1451

A/N: So this is the requested full version of the blurb I wrote about getting a dog with Shawn. It’s fluffy. And a little smutty. Thanks to everyone that suggested names for the pup! ^^ My primary goal with this is to make B uncomfortable with the kiddo’s name. 

Shawn reminds me of a child on Christmas morning the second we step into the shelter. We introduce ourselves to the volunteer and his face lights up when the woman leads us into a large room with kennels.

“Here’s your guy,” she says with a bright smile on her face. “ He’s been waiting for you.” She unlocks the door to a smaller kennel and as soon as the door swings open, a black and tan Yorkshire Terrier puppy rushes out to greet her. The energetic creature runs circles around her until she crouches down to scratch his head.

Shawn kneels next to the woman and starts to stroke the puppy’s back. “Oh, look at you! You’re so beautiful, yes you are!” He picks up the Yorkie, kissing it. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you little guy,” he murmurs to the puppy in his arms. The ball of fur barks, licking at Shawn’s nose.

“Please be careful,” I beg.

“I took an allergy pill, promise I’ll be fine,” Shawn smiles at me, and then his attention is diverted back to the dog.

“Are you sure about the dog being compatible with allergic people?” I ask the animal carer.

She stands up next to me and looks at Shawn and the dog. “It varies from person to person, but Yorkshire Terriers are fairly hypoallergenic and they’ve been known to be compatible with people who have mild allergies. Some other hypoallergenic breeds include Havanese, Poodle,  and Maltese,” she informs with a smile.   

“So we saw on the website that he doesn’t have a name yet?” Shawn asks, his face nuzzled in the Yorkie’s fur.

“No, we haven’t named him yet. Well we have, but none of us could agree on one name so I guess it’s up to you guys.”

When the adoption is finalised, we put the Yorkie in a transport cage in the car, making sure the young puppy is comfortable.

“I’m staying at your place tonight,” Shawn states.

“Do you think that’s a good idea? You know you’d have to pop a pill every few hours right?”

“Can’t I just take several at once?” Shawn questions.

“I’m pretty sure that’s not how it works. But you can stay if you want. I’d want you there.”

“I love you so much. And I love him so much. I can’t wait to cuddle him. We’re gonna become best friends.”

“Fawkes is so unoriginal though.” I move my fingertips through the wet fur, making sure the shampoo has been distributed everywhere.

“But Fawkes is so badass! He saves Harry in Chamber of Secrets!” Shawn squeezes the bone shaped squeaky plastic toy, attempting to pull it out of the puppy’s mouth.

“This little guy cowers at the sound of the doorbell and we can’t even get him into the bath without baiting him with a treat.”

“Fine,” Shawn smiles with an exaggerated eye roll.” There’s another name I’ve been thinking of…” Shawn turns on the shower head, rinsing out the shampoo.

“What kind of name?” I stroke the Yorkie, keeping him calm.

“How about Pick? Short for Pickering? Like home,” Shawn smiles.

“I like that,” I nod. “That’s a really cute name actually. Pick. Also like guitar pick!”

“Interstellar or WALL-E?” Shawn asks, his eyes glued to the TV screen as he reads the description for Interstellar.

“Have you never seen WALL-E?”

“Of course I have, it’s just good enough to watch again. I think we have to watch WALL-E anyway because Interstellar has a PG-13 rating.”

“Shawn, he’s a dog, he doesn’t understand anything.” I scratch at Pick’s head that’s in my lap, his body still in its resting state as he quietly snores.

“I’m not putting my child’s innocence at risk,” Shawn deadpans.

“WALL-E it is,” I smile, endeared. “Have I told you how much I love you?”

“Nope. Have no memory of that,” Shawn shakes his head, smirking. He moves closer to me on the couch, crawling up between my legs.

“Well, I do love you. A lot,” I grin. “Come here you goof.” I reach out to Shawn, and as soon as our lips touch, Pick wakes up and barks.

“Think we woke up the little man,” Shawn laughs.

“He’s such a cockblock. I haven’t gotten any Shawn-time in forever,” I pout.

“Do you think he feels excluded?”

“Maybe,” I ponder. “But sex….” I groan, letting my eyes wander down to a strip of skin above Shawn’s pants.

“We can always close the bedroom door,” Shawn suggests.

“I think he’d just whine and scratch at it until we feel guilty enough to let him in.”

“Okay, that’s true. But I like kissing you, so I’m gonna do it anyway,” Shawn smiles, moving closer and placing his lips against my jaw.

Pick barks again.

“Shawn, look, he’s asleep,” I whisper a while later.

“He’s so adorable! Come on we have to take a selfie with him!” Shawn picks up his phone and aims the front camera at us, and I smile broadly, getting into the frame. “Look at us! We’re the most adorable family ever. I’m gonna put this on Instagram. What should I caption it? Wait, I know!”

Shawn hands me the phone when he’s done uploading the picture and I look at the image, the caption underneath it saying, “Us and our son.”

“You are the cheesiest being on this planet,” I chuckle.

“Fetch, boy!”

I watch as Shawn throws a tennis ball across the living room. Pick chases the ball and holds it between his teeth, playing with the object on the other side of the room.

“I don’t think he gets the game,” I smirk, trying to hold in my laughter.

“We’ve been doing this all morning,” Shawn sighs.

“I’m sure he’ll learn eventually. Maybe try something simpler, like teaching him to sit? Operant conditioning works well on young dogs.”

“That sounds like a good plan. Until then I’m just gonna spoil him with toys and cuddles. And chase him around the house.”  

“Are you sleeping again?”

“Huh? What?” Shawn stirs, opening his eyes. “No, I swear I was awake.” He lifts his head off my shoulder, blinking rapidly.

“Yes you were,” I laugh. “You’ve been taking naps as often as Pick.”

“S’not my fault, the allergy meds make me sleepy.”

“Just like Pick,” I smile, running my fingers through his hair. “Maybe we can go for a walk with him, that would wake the both of you up.”

“Mhm. Where’s my boy?” Shawn looks around the living room, spotting Pick sleeping on a pillow on the floor, front legs tucked under his chin.

I sigh as Shawn places kisses down my neck, his hand pushing up my shirt to feel my skin. His thigh rests between mine, his hips pressing against my body. He starts to move so that I feel him press into my hip; I push my lower body up against his and he groans at the contact.

“I’m so hard,” Shawn breathes.

“Do you like that?” I press against him again, earning a moan. I take a hold of hair at the back of his head, lifting his face to mine so I can kiss his lips.

Shawn’s hip moves in circles, his erection a warm bulge against my thigh. “That feels amazing. Please, don’t ever stop,” he says as I suck at the skin on his neck.

“I like making you feel good,” I mumble against him.

Shawn’s fingertips graze my stomach, traveling downwards and he tugs at my waistband. His fingers slip under the elastic of my boxers and he tugs at the confines, pulling them down my thighs. I kick them off my legs and our bodies bump into one another’s. Hands grab at my hips, shifting me further up the bed. Shawn kisses down my chest to my abdomen where his mouth lingers. His teeth gently drag along my skin, making me shudder. My hips buck up desperately for contact as he kisses me.  

“I want to taste you,” Shawn mumbles against my skin. He kisses the insides of my thighs, licking his way to my pelvis. “I could spend all day between your legs.”

I moan at the words being spoken between my thighs, and shudder when Shawn’s mouth finally finds me. His soft hands hold my hips in place, one of them trailing down to my thigh to lift it up. Suddenly, I feel a weight shift next to me on the bed and I tug at Shawn’s hair, pausing his movements.

“That good, huh? You alright, love?” Shawn looks up at me, smirking.

“No, Pick’s on the bed. Next to me.”

Shawn moves his head up so that he can see Pick, and groans. “Not again.”



It had been 2 weeks since you had gone live on YouNow with your new song.

And it had been 2 months since your break up with Shawn, which somehow ended up as breaking news on a bunch of websites.

Every interviewer you met didn’t even want to talk about your new music. It somehow always ended up into a conversation on how you felt about your ex boyfriend of 2 years.

“It’s okay, we’re okay. I’m okay. It ended…things end. Ya know?” That was your usual response to these irrelevant questions.

As frustrating as it was, you understood why they wanted to know so much. You and Shawn didn’t even announce it to the media. It just happened and everyone realized that you both didn’t go out together in public anymore.

You recently joined the music business, around a year ago to be specific. And you had gotten signed to Shawn’s label as well. You’ve bumped into him quite a few times since the breakup. Especially at award shows or any big events.

But 2 weeks after everything went to shit, there was a video of Shawn that had gotten leaked.

And everyone was talking. Everyone.

The quality was crap, but you could easily tell it was him. And you could clearly make out what his drunk self had said.

“I can’t live without her.” His shaky voice said as he walked with one of his friends from the crew.

Apparently, a fan had approached him at a night club. They had asked him about our breakup, and this is what they captured on their phone.

When you heard that, you immediately felt numb. It sent chills through your body, and words couldn’t come out of your mouth.

The only way you could figure it all out, was by music. The answer was always music.

It was your way of expressing your feelings, just like any other artist.

You opened up your writing journal, grabbed a black pen and instantly started jotting down words that came to your head.

In 30 minutes, you had gotten the chorus figured out and the first few lines.

You hummed a toon to yourself and sang softly under your breath, making a few changes every now and then.

The song eventually was completed in a few days and you immediately got your laptop out and hit the record button.

“You say you can’t live without me. So why aren’t you dead yet?” You sang softly as you looked into the camera.

You continue to hum the tune, and bite your lip before singing the next line.

“Why you still breathing?”

Taking a deep breath, you continue singing and keep an eye on all of the comments.

Sure enough, it was mostly Shawn’s fans spamming the whole thing.

As you come to a finish, a silence took over as you read messages, and then you force a smile and speak up.

“So I’ll be heading to the studio soon to record the whole song. But that was just a preview. I hope you guys liked it, bye!”

Quickly ending the video, you shut your laptop and sighed.

It felt amazing to finally get that out.

But it wasn’t so amazing at all of the hate you got instead.

Days passed and soon, a new interview with Shawn was released on YouTube.

Your fans had tagged you in it thousands of times on twitter. You had to see it.

Clicking the small play button, you sit back and watch.

“So Shawn, I’m sure you’re aware of the new song that Y/N wrote. And I also think you’re aware on who it’s about” the woman spoke, with a hint of teasing in her voice.

Shawn uncomfortably shifted in his seat and pressed his lips together. His cheeks flamed up and you saw he started to play with his ring.

A habit he had whenever he was nervous.

Your eyes narrowed as you waited for his response. Of course it was about him, no secret there.

“Um yeah, almost any artist writes from their own experiences. I mean, I sure do. But Y/N created something great, there’s no denying that.”

You slammed your laptop shut and groaned in frustration, but seconds later, you heard the doorbell ring.

Getting up, you walked to the door and opened it to reveal a wet Shawn, soaking from the rainstorm outside.

“Shawn?” You breathed in confused and bit your lip.

Shawn breathed heavily as more rain poured down on his head.

“So that song. Can we talk about it?”.


Drabble game request: Namjoon + Pub! AU | for anon

Character: Kim Namjoon

Genre: Pub!au, Angst

Word count: 1,712 words

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Yona ch.138 spoilers

Akatsuki no Yona chapter 138 “Disturbance” summary with pics

Please don’t repost/reuse my scans and translations without permission. Tumblr reblog is fine.

Do not use the raws or translations for scanlations and don’t upload them on other websites. If you need watermark-less images to make graphics, send me an ask (not on anon) and I’ll give you a link - you can only request 3 images per chapter.

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Let’s be honest here

The real issue of this fandom isn’t whether or not they think a character is good or bad. It doesn’t matter that people have positive or negative headcanons, that they think the cult ending is or isn’t canon, that they, personally, believe Robert/Mary/Joseph is abusive/terrible person or are certain that they a ray of sunshine that’s done nothing wrong.

The issue of this fandom is the constant need for people to go onto other’s posts and attack people for posting them.

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My Hearing Aids, And How I Got to Having Them

I finally got my hearing aids and went to the doctor to have them set for me. It took me a very long time to get there, and with this tiny bit of hope I now have, I want to share my story

The year of frustration

I first decided to go and see an ENT doctor after Misophonia started to be too much and I had finally gathered the courage to take care of myself. I come from a place where you can’t see an audiologist without seeing and ENT doctor at first, so I thought I should start with that.

I set an appointment with my regular ENT doctor, a doctor that is considered a very good doctor. I waited for over four months for my appointment, and when it was finally the time to go, I got really excited. But when I got to her and started explaining what I had, she just sent me to a hearing test, thinking it was hyperacusis.

So I set another appointment and a hearing test, waited another couple of months for those two, and when I got back to her with my results, she gave them one look, then looked up at me and said, in these exact words, “Well, that’s what you get for hearing too good”.

I got so very annoyed and insisted she do something. “It’s a neurological condition,” I pointed. And so she sent me to a neurologist.

Of course I waited another month for that appointment. When I got to his office and explained all I went through, he actually made an effort and looked Misophonia up. Then He looked me in the eye, and said, “I can’t help you. You need a psychiatrist”.

Well then. No hope here. I went home, and cried all the way back and at home, for over an hour straight. My Mum then somehow convinced me that I should drop it for a bit. I don’t know how she’d done it, but I dropped it for three months, a bit more.

Then one day I came home from work and saw the newspaper open on a random health article. I looked for a second, and the first word I read was tinnitus. Intrigued, I sat and read the article. I saw the name of some doctor who was one of two doctors who are licensed to perform TRT (Tinnitus Relief Treatment) in my country. Of course I saved the name and looked her up the day after.

Her title was ENT doctor, specializing in tinnitus and hyperacusis. I got so excited and hopeful, yet I was afraid I’ll get to her office and start to cry again when she dismissed me. I called and set an appointment, sad to find out that my health insurance didn’t work with her and it was going to cost me about $200.

I drove all the way to the clinic, paid, and went in. I was so stressed I just said, “Please tell me you know what Misophonia is”. She said, “Of course”. I started crying.

The diagnosis

I sat with her for an hour. She asked questions, smiled at me, and actually looked like this was interesting for her. I guess when you love what you do, you love having those special patients.

She laughed, she smiled, she encouraged, and after forty-five minutes, she said, “Now you’re my patient, and we’re going to help you”. She asked how my parents felt about it, and when I said they refused to understand, she nodded and opened her computer. She wrote a letter for them, explaining everything I was going through, and what they needed to do to help me.

She also said I should order white noise generating hearing aids. She gave me the name of a company that made Tinnitus hearing aids – ones that only generated white noise and weren’t actually hearing aids, and so were cheaper. Unfortunately, we don’t have them anywhere where I live, and I had to order them online from the UK.

The hearing aids

My doctor said that, unfortunately, my country doesn’t have any noise generator sellers. She told me about this British company “Puretone”, and sent me to their website. I started doing my research and had to decide between ITE (in the ear), ITC (in the canal) or BTE (behind the ear).

Each kind of hearing aids has its pros and cons, and eventually I decided to go with BTE. Their battery is bigger, so it lasts longer, the sound is of better quality, it has easier volume control (from 1 to 4, but with in-between options), and with an open fit, it’s not that visible.

My hearing aids are Puretone 22MA+ Open Fit. They cost less than £500, including shipping. They use battery type 312, and they are very small and they come in brown and beige to go with your skin colour.

They generate white noise. The lowest volume option (1) is very nice and you can only hear it when you’re in a really quiet place. The highest volume (4) is a bit loud, and can help cover noises that are a bit stronger than the general sniff.

The Choices Made (Adlock)

Set at the end of The Reichenbach Fall

Motherhood had never been part of the Woman’s plan.

For most of her life, she had been focused on survival and domination, and she had pursued both with a reckless frivolity that burned everyone in her path. None of these things were conducive to raising a child.

Her first discovery of the new little parasite she was incubating was not a joyous moment, as it was for some women. 

Her initial reaction was of shock, because she had always been very careful. Meticulous to the point of obsession. Though her work as a dominatrix never involved actual sexual intercourse, she’d had her own set of lovers, both male and female, prior to her acquaintance with a certain consulting detective, and protection was paramount to her.

It must be a mistake. A false positive.

But before the opportunity to analyze how, and which, bout of sexual activity with said detective – it had to be Sherlock’s; all her other recent lovers had been female – had resulted in this little inconvenience, the dread settled in. 

It was not dissimilar to a wall of rain come crashing suddenly down on her head, invoking a long-forgotten childhood memory of watching little cartoon figures with black clouds above their heads.

Dear God, she was thinking of cartoons. It was already starting.

She drew a deep breath. That felt a little better. 

Perhaps this was not the black cloud she was imagining it to be. Hell, she wasn’t even sure if she really was pregnant.

The dread lifted somewhat, eased by practical thought into a small niggling at the back of her head that could be easily ignored. Tomorrow, she would go to the doctor. Just to make sure.

Tomorrow, however, did not bring the fair weather report she had been expecting.
The moment the doctor walked in with the results, she had known even before the other woman had opened her mouth.


The Woman held up a hand. She didn’t even want to hear it. The dread, which until then had been at the back of her mind, came to the foreground and threatened to take over.

But she was the Woman. She was not given to emotion or sentiment. She had already allowed emotion to take over once, and look where that had gotten her – sitting in a clinic with a foolishly smiling doctor offering her congratulations.

Her brain immediately went into damage control, as it always did when confronted with a crisis. Find the root of the problem, and fix it. 

She quickly went over her upcoming calendar in her mind, and without letting the doctor start a spiel on – God, she didn’t even want to use the word – pregnancy and pre-natal care, she cut the doctor off with a cold, professional hand and set up an appointment.

The doctor tried to argue, to offer other options, but she was stopped by the calm look on the Woman’s face. There was no confusion, emotional turmoil or hysteria there. Only calm decisiveness. She had made her choice.

The appointment was made.

There were no major changes to the Woman’s routine. At least not at first. No specific alterations or concessions made for the developing creature inside her, except maybe her morning routine was altered to compensate for the absolutely horrid morning sickness.

Then the “morning” sickness turned into “morning to noon” sickness. But still, it wasn’t that bad. She had always been good at concealing physical ailments. And tea helped.

But when it quickly became “the whole fucking day” sickness, she had to admit, it was harder to conceal. The tea, which was now unpalatable, no longer helped. She had to scale down on her clients, and cancel various appointments because now she just felt violently ill all the time.

She abhorred it. The wretched nausea, the sweating, the heaving and dry-heaving, the dizzy spells and light-headedness, the weakness. It was all so distasteful, especially for someone who had been so meticulous about her body, and so immaculate in appearance. 

Pain she could handle – she was a dominatrix, after all; pain was her bread and butter – but this prolonged, ever-present discomfort was threatening to undo her. That, and the lack of control over her own body, which before had been a beautiful weapon for her.

Still, she took comfort in the fact that this would all be over soon, and she could return to her normal (if it could be called that) life.

Three days before her appointment, an article appeared on the British news website she frequently monitored. 


It was accompanied by a photograph of a man in a dark Belstaff coat and a blue scarf lying on the street, face intentionally obscured to spare the readers the man’s gruesome, bloody death. But even through the blurring, the vivid red bloodstains on the man’s face and on the street he had landed on were evident.

The bile that she had been suppressing all day rose to the back of her throat, and she had to look away to keep from being sick. 

She slammed the laptop shut and tried to breathe.

It took her several long, shaky minutes, but the nausea eventually subsided. Enough, at least, for her to be able to pick up the phone and place some calls. Half an hour later, she was feeling slightly better (physically, anyway), the story was confirmed, and she received an unobscured copy of the photograph.

The nausea threatened to come up again, but she tamped it down with a deep breath, and analyzed the picture as logically and impartially as possible.

It seemed genuine.

The blood was real, and though there was no way to be sure until her contacts at the morgue confirmed it, she would venture a guess and say that it was his. The face, covered as it was with blood, closely resembled his as well. 

But she, of all people, knew how easy it was to fool someone with a pretty face.

And she had seen his work, too. She had seen the cleverly-edited video of her own “execution” that had made its way into Mycroft Holmes’s hands. As loathe as she was to admit it, if she wasn’t alive and whole – and now currently carrying evidence inside her body that would absolutely refute her death in Karachi – she probably would have been fooled by it too if it had been her.

It wasn’t real.

It couldn’t be. He was too clever, too good of an opponent to die. True, he had a certain self-destructive streak, but there was no way someone as arrogant as he was would ever commit suicide. And certainly not for something they both knew was a lie.

That thought helped her calm down and settled her nerves.

All she had to do now was wait for the video to prove it.

Fifteen minutes later, the email arrived, and she opened the file. The angle of the video was limited to Sherlock alone, as her contact had been focusing on him, and the sound was less than ideal, but it was clear enough that the detective on the roof was speaking to John Watson, unseen, on the street. She could hear Sherlock confessing to the lie the press and the British public had been fed. 

Rich Brook. Reichenbach

They both knew it wasn’t true. She, herself, was evidence that it was a lie. And yet, here he was, extolling the opposite to John Watson.

“Keep your eyes on me.”

That immediately raised a flag. A magician directing the audience to the illusion and away from the trick. The Woman examined the video intently, trying to spot any discrepancies.

And that was when she saw it. 

A glint of sunlight from the roof a few buildings to the right. It only appeared as Sherlock said “Goodbye, John” and hung up the phone.

Before he dropped the phone and jumped, disappearing from her contact’s view and the camera’s.

Frustrated, and though she would never admit it to herself, more than a little shaken, she played the video again, to the part of the timeframe where she saw the glint of sunlight. She knew what that was.

The reflection from a rifle’s scope, revealed only at the last minute before the shot. A shot that Sherlock Holmes’s apparent death had prevented.

A sniper.

And it wasn’t pointed at Sherlock.

And then she understood.

Sherlock, despite all his arguments to the contrary, was an irrationally sentimental being. He formed emotional attachments to people. 

While between the two of them, the Woman was more attuned to people, it was Sherlock who actually cared for them. When she had been exposed, it was only too easy for the Woman to abandon all ties, including her loyal Kate, and leave her former life. 

Sherlock, on the other hand… He had a whole brood of people he surrounded himself with. The doctor, his landlady, his brother, the detective inspector, his mousy little pathologist. 

If an instance occurred where he was required to give up his life for the few people he cared about, especially if it included John Watson, she had no doubt the idiot would actually do it. Hadn’t he already infiltrated one of the most dangerous terrorist cells in Asia to save her life?

Foolish, foolish man.

She stopped the video and closed the laptop.

The day of the appointment came. And went.

She stayed home, phone in hand.

It never rang.


By SorrowsFlower

Yeah, okay, so I made this on one of those “writing game” sites where you “fight” a monster by completing x-amount of words in the allotted time. So my lazy ass didn’t edit, proofread or research any of this stuff like I normally would have.


word count: 3468

genre: eventually all of them ;; there’s a few parts

|| It’s been two years since Kim Seokjin died in the arms of his lover, so what was he doing on a dating website?


1 | 2 | 3 | 4

Originally posted by soekjins

It’s been two years, Y/N,” Yoongi whined over the phone, his hand pushing the brown locks out of his eyes as he laid back in his bed, “Just go ahead and move on.”

Y/N sighed as she held the phone a little tighter, the device pressed against her ear. Closing her eyes and rubbing her temple with her free hand, Y/N let out a defeated sigh.

“It’s hard to move on, Yoongi…” her voice was soft and gentle, cracking at the last word, “Jin died. And even worse, he died in my arms.”

I understand that, I really do, but it’s best for your mental health to move on.” Y/N could hear Yoongi shuffling around in his sheets – he was still in bed, and her phone call probably woke him up. Feeling stressed out at her workplace, Y/N decided to call him in the early hours despite Yoongi being a night owl.

“And how do you expect me to move on from him?” Y/N became more frustrated, her eyes shooting open and her hand resting on her forehead.

Calm down,” Yoongi said, his voice maintaining a sense of tranquility, “Go on a dating website or something.”

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Absolute Yoongi

Originally posted by imaginesbts

Summary: But then what good would he make as an outlaw if he did not take risks? If he did not play with risks? It’d been years since he’s had this much fun.


Yoongi would think that after an entire decade of running with various packs below ground, he would have discovered all there was to see of the side of the world relevant to his survival and livelihood. A heart seasoned, hardened, against unimaginable cruelties, gore, immorale, knives that were not always metal blades—but rather, the words slipped from cunning tongues—plunged into the backs of former allies, comrades, friends, family, drummed unfailingly beneath cement-like ribs broken and repaired beyond count.

Yet as he slinked low in his seat, housed by the warm fumes of drip coffee and fresh bakes on the day of Sabbath, an entire twenty-four hours traditionally dedicated to rest and recovery—deserving even for the most inhumane—it would be a lie for him to claim that he foresaw the elephant-like stomps of a figure that perhaps did not even break five feet, the sudden occupation of the seat across him and the slamming of crisp, white documents imprinted with neat black wording in rows and rows of unintelligible phrases before him.

He did not quite expect a pair of round, curious eyes of toffee staring back at him, intercepting his field of vision with sentiments displaying a hardened resolved, yet those same toffee eyes were wavering, shaking, signs of a fallible confident front that seemed to crumble inch by inch as the seconds ticked by, a silence bursting at seams to be addressed. Yoongi merely balked.

Who is this girl?

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anonymous asked:

How would you like the reveal to go? In my ideal world Kara would tell her, because I want Lena to see that she trusts her However, I don't think it will go that way because it would be less drama. But if she finds out any other way then she will always think that Kara would have never told her and it's kinda awful that your bff didn't trust you with a big part of her life. So, what do you think/want? Someone else tells her, Kara gets accidentally exposed, Lena starts to suspect and finds out?

Well they could go the direction they did with Alex’s secret reveal to Kara (that she killed Astra) and have Lena surprise accept her immediately. And while that’d be pretty nice to see in some sense, that situation tends to gloss over the tension that’s been building a bit too much for me.

When Kara forgave Alex immediately, Kara still had some stuff going on underneath it all that wasn’t… fixed. It was addressed later, but in the worst way for Kara. After Kara had had just like a really shitty couple of weeks in which the world and it’s people wronged her in like 20 different ways, she had the Red K incident. 

She lashed out at everyone, against her will, and put even the irrational issues she had with people at the surface so that it then made her the bad guy. So she had to go on a tour of sorrys to people she didn’t make the choice to hurt and who had hurt her beforehand, effectively silencing any of the issues that we actually legitimate.

When Kara woke up, Alex said “There’s some truth to what you said. We’re going to have to work on that.” but we didn’t get to see if that was a conversation, and it’d be so easy to focus on the intrusive, obviously untrue thoughts Kara had versus the ones that had merit.

Of course, Kara didn’t see any of it this way, she was genuinely sorry and felt responsible. 

And I’m afraid of that happening with Lena. 

That Kara (as is true to her character) will just feel terrible that she had trouble telling Lena, and that the reasons won’t go deeper than the surface betrayal.

Listen, I’m a slut for drama, so I need there to be a confrontation. Either Lena finds out and brings the information to Kara, asking for an explanation, or Kara tells her.

And I think Lena has a habit of lashing out when hurt, so I kind of want it to go… horribly?

But I want her to gather her senses after the initial negative reaction (like she did when Supergirl told her that her mother was the head of Cadmus) and come at it from a more empathetic standpoint (possibly with the help of Alex, who… idk Lena is forced to work with instead of Supergirl- because Alex stepped in so she wouldn’t have to see her yet- and Alex kind of begrudgingly helps Lena understand Kara a little better.)

I’d like Lena to eventually come to the conclusion that it’s not about her and her trustworthiness. Not really. It’s about Kara. 

It’s about how Kara has been told to hide her alien-ness from humans at all costs, (even at the cost of human lives) since she was 13.

It’s about how Kara didn’t tell a single soul about her family or her powers or Krypton or her alien-hood for 12 years. Her entire identity, everything that made her who she is, hidden because the Danvers told her that she would be in great danger if anyone found out.

And she has since only really willingly told one person- Winn. Who was like aliens’ #1 fanboy, and whose opinions she could easily have seen in written form on the literal website about aliens he was submitting to in the pilot. Who, even if she didn’t 100% trust, was the only viable option for someone to be excited for her, so she was at the end of her rope and willing to risk it.

And honestly… she didn’t really seem to come out as an alien, just the woman with powers. And given that Kara was arguing that aliens didn’t exist earlier in the episode, the two weren’t necessarily linked.

Aliens weren’t even like… a thing until this year. There wasn’t political commentary surrounding the personhood of these beings until very recently. And Lena’s first on-record response on the matter was “here’s a device to find them” which, to someone who has been hiding herself for half of her life, who has been told that she or the people she loves will be hurt if she’s found out (case in point: Jeremiah), it’s terrifying.

When you are an alien, you are willing to sacrifice anything, everything, betray your fundamental instincts just to fit in. To belong somewhere, to find your place in the world.” 

Kara has shown again and again that her instinct is to trust Lena. But this is about more than if Kara has faith in Lena. 

This is about the fearful environment that Kara grew up in.

Perhaps Lena was raised to hate and has grown tremendously from that point, which Kara knows. But Kara was raised in fear of being hated, in fear of what real danger hate will put her and the people she loves in. 

So perhaps logically, she knows Lena would eventually accept her.

But logic cannot always touch fear, because what if she doesn’t? 

And it kind of… doesn’t matter who Lena is. Kara would be in the same situation with almost anyone else who she had had, at one point, reason to believe they wouldn’t accept her.

And in some ways, I think it’s a matter of Kara’s acceptance of herself in this world. Of if she feels like she really fits in, or ever could.

So… that’s what I’d like to see Lena realize. And I’d like to see the whole messy process of it. 

And at the end of it all, when Kara can show her unyielding trust in Lena and Lena can return the sentiment in full, it’ll have been earned.  

CinemaVariety's Top 6 Horror Films of 2014

Compared to last year, 2014 was a pretty disappointing year for horror films. I liked a lot that were released this year, but I didn’t fall in love with many as I did in 2013 (The Lords of Salem / Maniac). However, that doesn’t mean that there weren’t some quality horror films released this year. None of the films on this list are perfect. But as far as horror films go, they all work well.
** This list is in order. **

#6 - As Above, So Below
Directed by John Erick Dowdle

I was not looking forward to seeing this film at all. I thought the trailers looked pretty cheesy and I am usually pretty good at spotting a shitty horror film just by watching a preview for it. But I like the director who also made some of my favorite horror flicks such as The Poughkeepsie Tapes and Quarantine. After reading bad things about it, I read almost just as many good things. I have to agree with the supporters for the film - critics were too harsh on this. It was an equivalent to a bad trip on hallucinogens. The whole idea of being trapped in the underground catacombs and having to continue deeper into the earth is my idea of a personal hell. I developed a definite dread as the film went on. That being said, As Above, So Below  suffers from a weak last act that had me rolling my eyes a little.

#5 - Oculus
Directed by Mike Flanagan

Oculus was another horror film that I wasn’t too eager to see. I thought it looked a little cliche. Going into the film with low expectations definitely resulted in a pleasant surprise. The movie isn’t your average horror film - in fact, it could easily be classified as a dramatic thriller instead. The mirror in the film is portrayed as a blood-thirsty object and the affect that it has on the characters is an affirmation of that. Great performances by the two parents, especially the mother, are what made this film unsettling - not to mention the really awesome way the director blended the past and present.

#4 - Willow Creek
Directed by Bobcat Goldthwait

Willow Creek caught my interest after reading a positive review about in on IndieWire (one of my favorite websites for film news). I had never seen a horror film centered around big foot before and I wasn’t too sure if it could be done without coming across as ridiculous or comical. I had reservations while watching the beginning of the film, but as it went on I let my guard down a little and I’m glad I did. This film played on the same fears of mine as The Blair Witch Project did, and for that I appreciate its execution. My biggest fear is of the unknown and not knowing what is out there. The last portion of this film, which is in the photo above, started out making me nervous and ended up instilling actual fear in me. That rarely happens for me anymore. A much better big foot film than the mediocre Exists.

#3 - Afflicted
Directed by Clif Prowse & Derek Lee

Not only is Afflicted one of the best horror films released this year, it is also one of the best found-footage movies ever made. I applaud both the directors who also starred as the two main characters. The mockumentary style is overdone in the horror genre, but Afflicted breaths new life into it. It starts out with some really genuine and believable interactions between the characters. It felt so believable that I could have been watching an actual documentary. As it progresses, Afflicted works as an action film as well. GoPro cameras are utilized to create a really immersive experience in certain sequences. If Chronicle was more of a horror film - it would be this.

#2 - The Sacrament
Directed by Ti West

Ti West is obviously a director of great quality. But his films are always a hit or miss for me. His directorial debut, The House of the Devil, was a truly creepy slow-burn 80s throwback with a dash of satanic ritual which always satisfies me. However, his short in V/H/S was the weakest in my opinion and The Innkeepers felt like a horror film made for children. Thankfully, The Sacrament was a definite hit and is easily West’s best film yet. I have studied a lot about the Jonestown massacre and watched documentaries on Jim Jones so when I found out a movie was being made based on the massacre, I was very intrigued. The hand-held aspect of the film can actually be overlooked for once because it is a notable news crew (Vice Media who I follow and enjoy) making a documentary about the commune. The film builds up an atmosphere of true dread which caused me to feel very uncomfortable. Cults always get under my skin and the fact that this film is based on true events made it break my heart in a way. I drew tears out of terror and disgust as the “sacrament” takes place in the end. The Sacrament created a knot in my stomach and I can easily classify it as one of the most disturbing films ever made.

#1 - Starry Eyes
Directed by Dennis Widmyer & Kevin Kolsch

I was set on seeing this film after seeing both the teaser trailer and the official trailer. It looked as if David Lynch and David Cronenberg had a baby together and the outcome was Starry Eyes. The concept is of a young actress struggling to make it in Hollywood and the eventual sacrifice of her body in order to transform into a “star”. The whole film is symbolic about Hollywood turning you into something you’re not and it has many allusions to the Illuminati. If you loved Mulholland Drive, then this film is for you. The majority of this film plays as a psychological drama. However, the last thirty minutes takes a bloody turn and it shifts into overdrive as a brutal and unflinching horror. Body mutilation and transformation hits a strong chord in me. I watched in horror at the disgusting, yet beautiful, ending. Starry Eyes deserves its place as a future cult classic.


He wasn’t sure why he’d gone to Japan in the first place, maybe because it was in a way a mirror reflection of Britain for all that it was the other side of the world. He knew the reason why he’d stayed though, her name was Saori.

He wasn’t entirely sure even now how it had been that they’d met, except that it had been a hot Tokyo night, sticky and steamy. There had been alcohol involved, blurring and distorting the neon lights. He hadn’t intended to stay long, just another stop in a road to nowhere. But somewhere in that first week of staying at a different Love Hotel every night and seeing all the seediest bars in the city, somewhere in between his broken Japanese and her rusty English, they had understood each other. He wasn’t a thrill seeking womaniser and she wasn’t a wild party girl, they just both needed a break away from who they really were and Tokyo was an easy place to lose yourself.

She had been the first person to compliment his nose, a compliment that had taken ages for her to explain, going round and round in circles as she became more frustrated with his inability to understand. He was used to it now, now that he lived somewhere that his nose drew compliments. He had almost forgotten that once it had only drawn insults. That had been a very long time ago. It felt at times like it had happened to another person, back when he’d still been Severus Snape.

He’d taken Saori’s name when they married, happy to cast off the reminder of his past. After close to twenty years, his Japanese was good, so the Japanese surname combined with dark hair and eyes resulted in most people assuming he was a half. He had never felt the need to correct the mistake, confidently and calmly writing the kanji for Miyata as though he had never known another name. His first name was still officially Severus, though no one called him that any more. It was too long, and the V was a problem. Even Saori called him Seb. A life time ago Lily had shortened his name affectionately to Sev, before their friendship had ended, and no one else had ever been close enough to dare to consider a nickname. There had only been a few who called him Severus, and even then most of that was through professional courtesy. He might have been doing them wrong by making that assumption, but he had left that life behind in the image of a bled-out corpse in the Shrieking Shack. Ironic, that he had twice nearly been mauled to death by magical dark creatures in the same building. He’d burnt it, leaving the wizarding world with only Harry Potter’s firm insistence in his death and a heap of ashes that no one would ever know contained no body. Fire symbolised rebirth, and he had been reborn.

He’d been washed clean in a fancy jacuzzi on the first night, when Saori had given up on trying to say Severus correctly and had called him Seb, and he had let her. He had thought it didn’t matter what a woman he would never see again called him, yet somehow it had become his name, the name he thought of himself with, the name he scrawled in katakana without hesitation. A name more his own than Severus Snape had been.

Saori had been the daughter of a Shinto priest, though he had never met him. Her sister had been a witch, who had left her muggle family behind when she went first to school and then to marry into an ancient magical family who had played an important role in advising the government since the Heian period. It was, Saori had explained bitterly, in part the betrayal and abandonment of his daughter than had worsened her father’s illness and led to his early death. He had felt awkward, the first time meeting her mother, confessing guiltily that he was a wizard. Saori’s mother had considered this carefully, slowly, before judging him as a good wizard to her mind. He would not have called himself a good anything, and he wasn’t even certain about wizard. He had had nothing to do with the magical world since leaving the Shrieking Shack, content to live in the muggle world where there was less chance of him ever being recognised. The only time he had done so had been two years after their marriage, which had been a traditional Shinto one, when he had realised that his old wand so rarely used no longer suited him. They had gone, uncertainly and feeling like foreigners in a strange land, to buy him a new one. The wandmaker had tried to tell him that his new wand, made of the wood from a cherry tree, showed that he was a wizard worthy of respect, but he had just shrugged, paid and returned to his muggle village on the slopes of Mount Aso. He had been grateful of it and his magic when the house had shaken in the earthquake that seemed to last forever, but even then it had not been true necessary.

At first he had taught English, finding adults to be a far more appealing type of student than the teenagers he had found so annoying. It had been an easy job, but now he sold teas. Saori was an acupuncturist, and it was rare that her patients would leave without buying an infusion that was just right for their needs. The villagers and the customers who would come from quite a distance would often swear that it was magic, the way in which his brews managed to perfectly soothe whatever problem they had, and he would just smile enigmatically as he gently touched their minds for hints of what troubled them. He had a website, where people could buy infusions from as well, but he preferred the personal touch. Those were generic infusions, rather than the carefully mixed ones that he made for anyone who came to his little tearoom where he would mix herbs kneeling on a traditional cushion on the tatami.

He found he was forgetting words of English now, through disuse and maybe the slow creep of age. He had stood in front of a herb, twisting it in his hand, smelling it and trying to recall what its name was in English. He had given up eventually, looking it up on Tangorin on his phone, translating it from the Japanese that came much easier.

His keigo was the only aspect of Japanese that he struggled with now, though he had little need for it normally. The one time he had used it was to an obnoxious American customer who had insulted Saori, and he had with a calmly collected fury insulted him in perfectly polite Japanese. He had no idea if the American had understood everything he had said, but he hadn’t thought of that at the time. Saori had laughed at that, especially when he had later cursed the man in the savage English of a working class lad from Cokeworth, words that she didn’t understand.  Her English was good now, though they normally spoke in Japanese, but there were some words that she had no need to know.

Now he was used to the smell of tatami, accustomed to folding his futon every morning and spreading it out every night. He was content to live in a volcanic land where he could bathe in hot springs heated by underground lava. He rarely thought of Hogwarts, of the people he had once known. He knew new people now. Aside from the villagers, Saori had dragged him dancing. He had thought at first that she was joking, that it was a part of her wild phase when she had wanted to lose herself in response to grief, but he had realised she was not. There was sometimes something wild about it, about staying out all night dancing either salsa or Argentine tango in Kumamoto city or sometimes even further afield, but there was something in the release of the combination between the music and the movement that he had found himself falling in love with.

They had returned that night, late, from a regular milonga followed by a cheerful meal and some drinks with the usual crowd. As always upon their return he let the herbs steep in the pot, nothing particularly magical just a simple concoction to ward off the creeping cold of autumn, before pouring them carefully into two cups. Saori smiled gratefully from her position on the floor as he entered the room, handing her her cup. Her hair was still wet from the bath and her expression still a relaxed contentment from a pleasant evening. He knelt beside her, blowing on his tisane.

“ね〜さおり,” he said, as he had many times before, “愛してるわ,”



 At this point, I’d like to introduce a post that has been circling around Tumblr for quite a while now, which features a linguistic discussion between two Tumblr users. At a certain point, the font is smaller because it was received by Tumblr user Prismatic-bell in the form of an Ask message, and she copied and pasted into this post due to its direct relation with the post. Her answer is in a bigger font.

When revised, this discussion presents us with the questions of:

a)      Whether Tumblr English presents us with a new dialectical form.

b)     Whether this form is particular to Tumblr or is widespread on the internet.

c)      Whether a written dialect can be considered a dialect on its own.

d)     Whether Tumblr English is entirely made up of written forms.

The first two problems have been tackled by the second part of this study, though perhaps not with the specific focus they require of us. It is understood, however, for all purposes of this study; that Tumblr English is the extreme form of internet English, whereas Facebook English is the merging point between those familiar with this kind of wording and those who are not. Furthermore, one must take the demographics of Tumblr into account, especially when regarding the age group of most Tumblr users. It is, in fact, actually considered weird when someone over thirty is “still” actively using the Website. Many older users are attacked over their age.

Nevertheless, because of the age of those users, one can safely assume they have greater expertise in the online word and are therefore more active in creating internet trends, which include new speech patterns.

In conclusion, it is clear that Tumblr English is the most “purified” example of this dialect, simply because Tumblr is its source and as it dwells further away from it, it inevitably becomes less marked and eventually dilutes into the more conventional internet forms until it is “discovered”.

With regard to the third question, of whether a written language can be considered, the points user prismatic-bell is making are not in the least far off- written language has its own merits, especially when we consider Tumblr dialect does not follow the vernacular and is therefore a variation. Furthermore, just because a tendency is not voiced, it does not mean that the reading thought voice in our heads is not selecting a specific way of reading it. Perhaps illustrating this effect would be the best way to make our point:

Answer to Question c); Example 1:

This example is useful to us due to its criticism of the way pauses are handled on a written dialogue inside Tumblr. While the first user talks about a literal “blank space in thought voice”, which is, in itself, a fascinating concept, these three people seem to find a consensus on how one should think-read the symbol in question. Such a discussion, therefore, demonstrates not only the existence of a rarified internet language specific to Tumblr, but also the acknowledgement its speech community provide it with. Even though they are not speaking to each other directly, a verbal convention is established and later certified by the number of notes obtained by this post, showing how many people have liked or reblogged it- which could in a way count as a form of signing an agreement.  

One might argue that pronunciation of “deg-deg” will vary given the international status of the website, but it could be assumed that, because the majority of the posts is in English, most of the users will submit to English pronunciation rules.

Answer to Question c); Example 2:

This is yet another instance of predicted pauses during the reading of the text. In addition, one must note these symbols are reflecting different kinds of pauses.  

Answer to Question c); Example 3:

This post features an interesting development. In recent years, the question mark has been used in the internet as a marker for rhetorical speech as much as the lack of punctuation which prismatic-bell talked about. They differ only in tone- while lack of punctuating signifies a neutral question with no need to reply either because there isn’t an answer or because the appropriate reply would simply to agree with the question and its terms, the question mark- and oftentimes a whole lot of question marks- is most often used after what the OP considers to be obvious statements. It conveys an impatient tone, given that the question is not whether the statement we are presented with is true, but rather why other people would ever think to question it in the first place. Mostly in disputes, it is meant to call out ignorance or what the OP thinks of as ignorant. Some posts, however, do use it as a means of seeking confirmation to the statements they have made- something in the neighborhood of an “isn’t it”.  This next one is an instance of the first scenario described:

Answer to Question c); Example 4:

Here, the OP is reacting to the news that the television show “Grey’s Anatomy” will get a spinoff. Because fandom culture is so prominent in Tumblr, it is important to find posts that also feature that.

Answer to Question c); Example 5:

This post features a recommendation for another television show. While we have cut it short given the amount of items that do not interest our research, in this particular extract one can easily spot the use of this same intonation marker. Because OP is trying to get people to watch said TV show, the question marks can be interpreted here as seeking for silent acknowledgement that what she says (namely, that the television show is good due to the healthy relationship it portrays) is true- which she gets through notes. The notes are a curious aspect of online and Tumblr culture; it allows for rhetorical questions to thrive in a way they never would have before- so much that we have come up with ways to signal each kind of rhetorical question.

Answer to Question c); Example 6:

We have picked this post to illustrate the reading voice thought for two reasons. Firstly, due to how quickly the intonation here is picked up. However, it is also interesting to note that “Karen” here represents a social archetype. That is because Karen has become the default name for “the dumb blonde”call-outs. *The Karen meme is based on the 2007 “Mean Girls”, in which Rachel McAdam’s character reprimends her friend Karen (Amanda Seyfried) when she asks Cady (Linsay Lohan) why she is white, if she grew up in Africa. McAdam’s character, then, says: “Oh my God, Karen, you can’t just ask people why they’re white”, hence the meme.

Incidentally, “Karen” is not the only name that has become an archetype symbol. Names like “Becky” and “Jan” have also made it to the call-out sheet. The first one peacked when singer Beyonce Knowles wrote a song about “Becky with the good hair”, which in black English is synonym to “generic white girl”, and the second one is a reference to A Very Brady Sequel, in which the reference character is discreditted by Marcia, who does not believe her surrealistic story, and repplies with the famous “Sure, Jan”. On Tumblr, it is easily used as a reaction to incendiary posts.  

Answer to Question c); Example 7:

Again, this example demonstrates just how much we rely in our reading voice.

Answer to Question c); Example 8:

This post plays with how we, in our heads, read pauses.

Answer to Question c); Example 9:

Yet another example of how reading intonation does make a difference in your interpretation.  


Regarding the fourth question, of whether Tumblr English is only ever a written dialect, we are inclined to answer that it is not. The fact is, people do bring these expressions into everyday life. Slowly, the intonations we are accustomed with online mold our intonations in real life- it’s a circle in reverse. I asked some teenagers to read those same posts we just saw out loud, and the results were practically the same. You can see the audio files HERE. Far from being the most thorough research, this study does call attention to the remarkable similarities in tone and overall interpretation- demonstrating that a written form does have linguistic spawns in verbal language.