1. Fifty Two (M)

sehun/baekhyun x reader, 19.6k, soulmate au; you have the same scars as your soulmate

warning: mentions of death, self harm, sex and alcohol use

“It was…” you choke a sob through your sentence and Sehun can feel the burning on his knees where you’re digging into broken glass before him. He wants to stop you but he can’t even talk to you right now – unless he wants to lose his final moments with you. “You were…this whole time? Sehunie, please. You can’t leave me. No, Sehun. No, you can’t.”

Originally posted by intokai

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The Dream

A live-action Star Wars Netflix series based on Knights of the Old Republic, with four seasons.

Season 1: The Fall of Exar Kun, featuring Jolee Bindo as a major character and sass master. Exar Kun is appropriately handsome, evil, and a bit of a fuckboi. The Qel-Dromas are incredibly dramatic about everything.

Season 2: The Jedi Civil War, with the big twist concerning Revan still in place. Essentially the plot of the first KOTOR plus some extras. Juhani is explicitly a lesbian (this ain’t 2003 anymore, Bioware). Jolee Bindo is still around and becomes even more of a sass master in his old age.

Season 3: The Mandalorian Wars, where we see Revan and Malak’s fall. We are introduced to the Jedi Exile. Canderous is our view into the Mandalorian side of things. He is appropriately awesome. Maybe venture a little into the opening days of the Jedi Civil War if there’s time.

Season 4: The Dark Wars and the adventures of the Jedi Exile. Essentially the plot to KOTOR 2, but more grounded. The actress who plays Kreia must be awesome. Peragus and Citadel Station aren’t as miserable to watch as they are to play in the game. Atton Rand teaches the audience how to play Pazaak in an after credits sequence.

The Lion, The Witch, and the Bassist. (Chapter One)

Originally posted by amyknives

Word count - 1,473 words

co-written by thelittleuniverseinmyhead

Its not easy growing up in a small town in Ohio and being ‘different’ but that’s what I was. I got picked on for wearing black , and loving metal bands. But I made it through, with my best friend Andy Biersack.

But all good things must come to an end right? I kind of developed a crush on him. We were so close, we even went to prom together… as friends of course. He was so just so oblivious to the fact that I had feelings for him. Then he told me he was going to live his dream of become a rock star and I was so hurt because I thought that he was leaving me without a second thought. I had the idea to start a band with him while we were kids and all I really wanted was for him to ask me to come with him but that didn’t happen. So when I heard that he had gotten signed with an agent I was so happy for him but I didn’t answer his texts or callls.

I soon finished high school and went to  L.A. not because of Andy but because I hated Ohio. I wanted the big city, I wanted to get into the music business.

Which brings me to right now, I was in a L.A. bar in the middle of Hollywood wearing tight skinny jeans, black makeup and an old ripped tank top that I had stolen from Andy years ago. I’m currently working as a bartender and I’m loving it.

I looked up and saw a man with hair as big as a lion’s mane and his 4 loud friends. The one with the big hair looked somewhat familiar but I decided to brush it off. Soon I heard them laughing and getting buzzed. I saw them pointing around and a man with long hair and a goofy grin came over to me pulling a stupid pick up line “Hey, did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”

I scoffed and heard a lot of stupid drunk people over the time I worked here but I have never heard someone say something as dumb as this. So I decided to reply with “No but I scraped my knees coming up from hell”, It was something that me and Andy had come up with together.
He laughed then walked away.


I watched as CC came over to me laughing. I looked at him “Why the hell are you laughing?“

“That bartender chick, she had the same comeback that you did to the heaven pick up line”, he says smiling. I looked over to her curiously, only one other person that I knew of knew that comeback and that was (y/n) but I haven’t seen her in years, I don’t even know where she is.

I looked over to her again and saw those vaguely familiar facial features. I narrowed my eyes and thats when I saw it I saw the tank top. Yes it could have been a different one, but it had the rips on it that my old one did. The one that I had ‘lost’ and by lost I mean (y/n) had stole it. I walked over to her.

“(y/n)”, I said cautiously. Her eyes got wide and a smile grew on her face.

“Andy?!” I nodded and she ran over to the small door, pushed through it and ran to me.


I saw Andy and before I knew it I was running to him. I wrapped my arms around his neck and his hands landed on my waist picking me up. We hugged for a couple seconds before I smiled and he put me down, It felt good to hug him we had not hugged like that in such a long time. I looked up at him and grinned remembering our height difference even in heels I was a good 3 to 4 inches shorter

“Oh my god (y/n) I missed you so fucking much it has been forever”, Andy said as his friends came over and sat at the bar. They looked confused but still smiled at me.

“I know. It’s been wayyy too long”, I say smiling at the familiar person I had grown up with.

“So, you guys know each other?”, CC asks Andy and I as he smiles looking at both of us.

“I’m surprised Andy hasn’t told you about me”, I laugh while acting hurt.

“(y/n), this is Ashley, CC, Jinxx and Jake, they’re in my band, Black Veil Brides. Guys this is (y/n)”, he says pointing to each of the guys giving me a name to the faces.

“Hi!” I say smiling and wave.

“So can I get you girls something to drink”, I ask making my way behind the bar.

“Beers for all of us”, Andy says taking a seat as well.

“Oh come on Andy, are you sure you don’t want a good old whiskey” I say winking at him. He rolled his eyes obviously recalling the night where we stole his dads whiskey. and I laughed at his reaction.

“I’m sorry but… did you two date or something?”

I look at the man Andy had said was Ashley, I looked at Andy and to the floor my face getting red. Andy looked towards the door getting up and walking out because his phone rang, leaving me there awkwardly with the guys.  

“ No……… we didn’t we just, uh we were or are I guess old friends. I’ve pretty much known Andy my whole life. We uh, grew up together”, I smile at them.

Of all my days being a bartender I’ve never blushed so hard at a question in my life. Being charismatic, open, self-spoken and friendly was part of my job so I learned to avoid awkward situations and rarely got taken aback when questions like these were asked.

CC cleared his throat trying to clear the heavy atmosphere

Andy comes back and I can tell he looks angry. He had the “troubled relationship” face on. Living with Andy for most of my life made me notice when something was up.

“I wouldn’t know, and that wasn’t Scout it was my girlfriend”, he sighs and takes a gulp of his beer.

“Who is…” I urged andy to tell more.

“Juliet Simms”, Andy said weary of my reaction. I fell into a mixture of emotions partly, disappointment, partly hatred, and partly amused. You see I knew who she was, she was actually a friend of Scout’s and not only did I hate both of them I hated her music, and I hated everything she stood for, and she hated me in all the same ways.

“Oh” I put an obvious fake smile on and some of the guys laughed at my reaction.

“(y/n) I know you don’t like her but trust me, she’s not that bad anymore”, he smiles reassuringly.

I want to believe him, but people don’t change that easy and I have always had some trust issues.

“So how is your show biz plan going?”, he asks trying to change the topic.

“Well it’s uh…”

“Good! Because I wanted to know if you wanna join my band, you still play bass right?” I nodded quickly.

“Well good we have been looking for a new bassist”, Jinxx says.

“You sure she can play Andy?”, asks Jake. I smirked and looked at Andy then at the guys then back at Andy.

We started going on about how I could play the bass really well at the same time so I don’t think the guys could really understand what either of us were saying. We laughed when we saw the confused looks on their faces.

“Well if Andy likes you, you’re in!”, exclaims CC. There was a chorus of agreements, and I smiled happy to be reunited with Andy and to have 4 new friends.  

About 4 hours and many drinks later, I had gotten off work and had a couple drinks with the band. It was great and we all exchanged numbers. I head back to my apartment with Andy because he insisted that he help me inside. Both of us in a drunken stupor we stumbled upstairs laughing. i giggled as andy opened the door and bowed. I curtized sloppily. and laughed as i walked inside and fell on the couch. It was an L shaped couch, I put my legs up and andy shut the door and fell on the couch next to me putting his head on my lap.

“hey-andyy, wanna-watch-some-batman” i said my words slurred

“yass-I wanna see BATMAN” I laughed and put batman on. and minutes later we fell asleep me sitting up my hand resting on Andy’s head, as it rested in my lap.


They’ll tell you to live your dream and shoot for the stars, but they’ll put a glass ceiling on top of you and all you can see is your 5 year old self who wanted to become a rose when she grew up and the face of your parents in disappointment. It’ll be so thin you won’t feel it, and so thick you can’t pass through. I’m sorry.
They’ll tell you that you could trust them and tell them how you feel, but the second you mention his name they’ll treat your body as if it wasn’t a creation of god and that your hands are no longer clean they’re staring to go smaller. I’m sorry.
They’ll tell you that you could love anything and you’ll start growing fond of action figures and superheroes like Wonder Woman, but they’ll replace them with blonde haired dolls and kitchen sets to remind you that you are just a paper doll in the back of their notebooks ought to be forgotten and crumpled. That saving the world was a man’s Job. That you will always be the damsel in distress. I’m sorry.
They’ll ask you to choose a favorite colour, and you’ll pick them all -because they all remind you of the kaleidoscope of colours in in every breath he takes between his I love yous - but they’ll think you’re being rebellious. They’ll deny you the freedom of choice, and as you grow up you realize that you don’t pick your own demons. They’ll force the one that reminds you of your father and of how his fists and anger liked your cheek so much. I’m sorry.
They’ll talk about depression and they’ll pity the ones who suffer from it.
“look at that poor soul”, they’ll say, “be tender, they need it.” But they’ll ask you to man up the second you cry because you scraped your heart against life’s unpavedstreet and you can’t seem to pull it together. They didn’t understand. I’m sorry.
They’ll tell you you should stand up for yourself and that you have rights. But one day you were walking down the streets and someone calls out whore because you wore that yellow dress that showed off some part of your knees and when you go crying to your mother, she’ll spit out the words “it’s your fault anyway.” You’ll feel like your naked body belongs to man who hasn’t been born yet and that your choice of clothes are the same colour of shame.
They’ll ask you to speak your mind, and not be afraid. But when you decide to call out the man who tired to slip his hand on your body and tell him “touch me one more time and I will fuck you up.” You are now standard-less . How can a young lady cuss and swear? My mother asks. How can such a delicate flower show her thorns? How are you expected to get married and raise kids with such a sloppy attitude?
My mother doesn’t understand that I don’t want to be here. That the world is pressing on my heart and I wish it treated me differently. That I just want to kiss a boy I like and not feel like I ripped the contract between my thighs because society put it there. That I just want to breathe but they have have put me in an ocean with no floor so I just keep on falling. The blueness begins to subside and grow darker and I can’t see god anymore.
I sleep to escape my mothers words of how I’m not good enough and what man would want to share a home with me.
I have decided that I won’t sleep anymore. I will not sit down and watch people walk around treating me like I am an object because they find my skin is “appealing”. I will shed that skin and grow an armor instead. I will not be silent, for my tongue is silver and my heart isn’t empty. They will set me on fire, but I will sit in the flames and be reborn from the ashes because I am not just “a pair of tits”. I am a woman, and I will not be put into shame because of my gender. No man shall rule me because I am powerful. I don’t like pink, I don’t like dresses, and I will not be expected to act lady like when all I want to do is fill the ashtray with red lipstick and fall in love.
This is for my mother who gave in. This is for a girl who was taught she didn’t know any better. This is for the ones with broken hearts because society looked them in the eye and told them that they were nothing. This is for the ones who want to dance in the streets but they were told that their dresses were too short for the twirls. This is for the ones who carry their hearts within their fists because the fabric around their chests was too tight, its home was demolished. This for the girls who don’t know what it’s like to be touched tenderly, because all they know is a hand in their hair or a strangers palm around their throats, when they decided to speak up.
I’m sorry.

anonymous asked:

hi there, i hope im not bothering you. i watched bbc's sherlock and am right now catching up witch doctor who (fifth season right now) and i see many people complaining about moffat? i don't understand that 100% and i thought you might explain? sorry for interrupting!

You’re not bothering me dear, don’t worry. I’m going to preface this by saying this is my opinion and whether you (you being anyone who is reading this, not just you personally Nonnie) agree with it or not does not change the fact that I am entitled to my opinion (because I’ve been having some issues lately with people saying my opinion of Moffat is wrong, and there’s no such thing as “wrong” opinion — it’s a personal thing).

That said, there are quite a few reason people don’t like Moffat’s Who. I’m going to split this into four categories — storylines, treatment of women in Moffat’s Who, the Doctor in Moffat’s Who, and Moffat the person.

Buckle up, because these tend to get a bit long. Since you said you just started series five, I should warn you that this is not going to spoiler-free, as my opinion on Moffat comes from watching the show, and referencing examples is a key part of understanding why I don’t like him. I’d also like to say that you shouldn’t let my (or anyone else’s opinion) keep you from continuing the show. Everyone should form their own opinion.

So. Let’s start.

Storylines: Moffat’s storylines tend to be convoluted and full of “timey wimey” non-explanations to justify everything. There are plot holes in the show so big you could drive a truck through them. He creates all these grand elaborate storylines, and it’s clear he has no idea how he’s going to follow through. Matt Smith’s entire tenure as the Doctor is proof of this. Moffat got to Matt’s last episode and realized “Shit, Matt is leaving and I have all these open storylines, what am I gonna do with them?” And what did he do indeed? Created a smorgasbord of an episode in which nothing happened — commonly referred to as “Day of the Doctor.” Moffat’s storylines look good on the surface, but the deeper you look, the more you realize, “Wow, he has no idea what he’s doing, he just likes using flashy effects and making things explode.”

Treatment of Women: Moffat has no respect for women. I’ll get more into that later, but I mention it now because it definitely colors the way he treats women in the show. What do Amy, Clara, and River all have in common? They were all “special” in someway, and their lives all revolved completely and entirely around the Doctor.

Amy: The girl who waited. The girl who spent her entire life waiting for the Doctor to come back, because apparently that’s what people do. Sure she made a show of “moving on” — getting a job, going out with Rory, etc. But she was still willing to give all that up just to run off with the Doctor the second he gave her a minute of attention again. That’s not a life.
The woman who killed the Doctor —OR— the Doctor’s wife. Either way, she had sense of self. Her entire identity revolved around the Doctor — she was raised to kill him and as a result became obsessed with him, and later transferred that obsession into “loving” him when her mission to kill him failed.
Clara: The impossible girl. Her entire first season on the show revolved around being a mystery that the Doctor had to solve. We knew next to nothing about her other than that some clones or something had once appeared in other parts of the Doctor’s life (yes it’s later explained that she jumped through his timeline, but that’s all we knew about her for the longest time).

Remember Rose, Martha, and Donna? They weren’t special in any way. They were normal people living normal lives until they met the Doctor. They had back stories and families who cared about them and jobs and responsibilities. They didn’t have to be “special” for the Doctor to care about them.

Getting off the special train here. His general writing of women just isn’t enjoyable. He uselessly oversexualized River, and the “love triangle” between Rory, Amy, and the Doctor was just unnecessary. It would’ve been a much better story if Amy had struggled between living her dream of seeing the stars and living a life with the man she loves (Rory). But no, Moffat had to introduce the “well maybe Amy actually loves the Doctor” storyline.

And River as the Doctor’s life just makes me angry. Like I said before, I don’t believe she actually loved him — she was just obsessed. It was a dangerously unhealthy relationship, with River giving everything to the Doctor and getting nothing back in return. Which is demonstrated clearly by her line in Angels Take Manhattan — “Don’t let [the Doctor] see your damage.” No, River. That is not how a relationship works. If you’re hurting, you should let your husband see it, because your husband should want to take care of you. It’s clearly a dysfunctional relationship. There’s nothing “romantic” about it.

As I said before, I disliked Clara’s entire storyline, and I really dislike the way the Doctor treats her in this current season. But I’ll get into that next.

Moffat’s Doctor: Since he’s now written two Doctors, I’ll split this up into two categories.

Eleven: Eleven was, essentially, a cosmic, bratty child. The whole with fezzes and bowties being “cool” was fun at first, but then it just got ridiculous. He also used humans, which disgusts me to no end (like using them to destroy the Silence). Remember River’s line from TATM about not letting the Doctor see your damage? That gives you a pretty good idea of who he is — he’s incapable of handling the consequences of his actions, and therefore needs to be “protected” from all the bad things he does. That doesn’t just apply to River, but to anyone he’s ever hurt (which as we know the Doctor thinks he hurts everyone he comes into contact with).

Not being able to handle consequences actually leads me to another point — Moffat’s handling of the Time War. Rather than deal with the consequences of the Doctor having to destroy his entire planet (which I would have found to be a much more interesting storyline), he simply rewrote it so the Doctor could have a happy ending and essentially erased seven seasons of character development. Moffat sees the Doctor has a god, and “consequences” are below him.

Twelve: Twelve absolutely disgusts me. I knew the moment it was announced that Twelve was going to be a “dark” Doctor, it was going to be awful, because Moffat can’t write emotional upheaval or consequences (I’ll get into that in a minute), and those are two big parts of being dark. Moffat doesn’t get that though. He seems to think that “dark” = “asshole” which is exactly what he’s turned Twelve into. Which brings me to what I was saying before about his current treatment of Clara — he’s horribly sexist toward her, insulting her appearance every chance he gets. That’s not okay. There are children watching this show, including little girls, who are now looking at themselves and wondering if the Doctor thinks they’re fat too. And before you say I’m overreacting, I’ve seen actual proof of that from other posts (unfortunately I can’t find them right now, but if I do I’ll gladly show you). And it makes me sad, because I really did want to like Twelve — Peter Capaldi is awesome. But Twelve is awful.

Moffat The Person: Moffat is a sexist, homophobic asshole. Don’t believe me? Have some quotes:

About women: “There’s this issue you’re not allowed to discuss: that women are needy. Men can go for longer, more happily, without women. That’s the truth. We don’t, as little boys, play at being married - we try to avoid it for as long as possible. Meanwhile women are out there hunting for husbands.”

About bisexuals: I can’t find the exact quote for this one, unfortunately (not one from a reliable source), but here’s a summary: Moffat is happy that bisexuals “probably don’t even watch” his shows because they’re off “having far too much fun” getting laid. If they were watching, he’d have to make them characters or something, which would be weird, because his gay characters are “going through a phase” anyway, like Irene Adler was before she met the man who could turn her straight. (from here).

Yeah. These are actual quotes from this actual human being. This human being who is in charge of writing one of the longest-running and most popular shows in television history. He’s also horribly degrading to DW fans, saying things like how we don’t need explanations for things that happen on the show (hence his timey-wimey non-explanations), and he acts like we’re all morons.

And before someone says “Oh but he was bullied as a child, don’t be too hard on him!” Yeah, no. I was bullied as a child too, and you know what? I didn’t turn into an asshole. I put all my energy into trying to make people feel better about themselves, rather than saying they’re needy or don’t need representation because they’re too busy having sex anyways.

So here you have it. For the tl;dr version (this is over 1500 words, if you read all of this then god bless you): Moffat’s treatment of women is despicable, his writing of the Doctor and the show in general is awful, and he’s a horrible human being.

Thank you and again, if you stuck with me for this long, god bless. Please remember that this is all my opinion, and if you don’t like it, that’s fine, but don’t tell me I’m wrong. I’m just as entitled to my opinion as everyone else is.

It must’ve been a really interesting time when all the immigration issues were sorted out, the trade agreement settled, and travel opened between Earth and Luna. Earthens and Lunars have had little to no contact with each other for decades and what little there has been was soundly antagonistic. The process of the two planets getting to know each other again must be…interesting.

  • There would be a massive tourism boom on both planets. Hordes of awed Lunar tourists wandering around gawking at the trees, the mountains, the sky. Tons of Earthen tourists gushing over the architecture of the domes and taking pod safaris outside of them on Luna’s surface. It would be both endearing and hilarious to bystanders on either side.
    • “What…what are they taking selfies with?” “I’m not sure, but I think they’re aiming for the sky.”
    • “I bet you fifty univs that guy backs into the lake again.” “Honestly, how many wide-angle pictures of Artemisia does one person need??”
  • I feel like a lot of young Lunars and young Earthens that were bitten by the travel bug and eager to explore the new world that’s been opened to them would take jobs aboard transport vessels to mitigate the costs of their wanderlust…which would mean that they would have to work together. Two peoples that are for all intents and purposes alien to each other, working together. Fun.
    • Exhausted Lunars who are sick and tired of explaining for at least the 90th time that no, they didn’t glamour the captain into giving them that raise.
    • Exasperated Earthens who are sick and tired of chasing after their Lunar shipmates with sweaters when they’re on shore leave because they never seem to remember that Earth isn’t climate controlled.
    • Endless bickering over whose planet is better.
  • Immigration would probably be a big thing, too. 
    • Intrepid Earthens who’ve always dreamed about living among the stars moving to Luna as aid workers in the wake of the revolution and loving it so much they settle there after the reconstruction is finished.
    • Lunars who just want to be away from all the bad memories renting cheap apartments in the first Earthen city they can get to and falling head over heels for the fresh air and blue sky.
Preference #22 - Mr. Brightside - Based On Killers Song - Requested





I’m coming out of my cage

And I’ve been doing just fine

Gotta, gotta get down

Because I want it all.

I had to break out. That’s what I knew I had to do. I had to take control. Sure I’d been doing alright, wasn’t getting hurt since I was playing it safe but they never tell you when you play it safe, you can’t even win the game and maybe, just maybe, I want to win the game for a change. I could win the game. I want to win the game because I want it all and I want her.

I had to break out from what was holding me back, the crowd between us. I was supposed to be just walking through the chaos making my way but just making my way was too boring when I could be making my way to her. In a moment, my feet started moving toward him.
Maybe this crazy train of thought, this idea was coming from the cup of spirits in my hand but I didn’t care. I wanted her. I ducked below the arms of the people between us until I was standing in front of her. I looked at her then I figured I probably looked like a freak without talking to her or even attempting to talk to her.

“Hi,” I said and she giggled setting her beer bottle down.

“Hey,” She said with a smile and stepping closer to me. I smiled watching the movement of her hair over her shoulders.

“I’m Ashton.” I said and she nodded.

“I know.” She said giggling again. “My sister’s been a fan. I’m a fan too…” She said her easy going smile faltering.

“So any chance of coming off like a normal guy with you is dead now, huh?” I said putting my glass on the table beside her. She shrugged.

“I don’t know, I think you’re a normal guy who just doesn’t live a normal life. Can’t fault for that since normal is boring.”

“You didn’t say your name.” I practically blurted.

“I didn’t. It’s Y/N.” She answered and I nodded.

“Pretty.” I answered. Good job mate, putting forth a great effort there.

“Yeah… So what made you come over here?” She asked tilting her head.

“Just kinda wanted to get out of my beaten track.” I shrugged.

“Have you ever wanted jut to break free?” She asked leaning into me. I nodded. She reached her hand out for mine.

“Well then, do you want to dance?” She asked and I nodded again. I could feel the cage I’d locked myself into opening up as I stepped away with her. I was down for anything. She was what I wanted then and I’d come out just fine. I was already free and nothing had killed me.

“So… do you know how to dance?” I asked as she began to move her hips.

“Not really but I know how to try.” She said with a bigger smile. I hesitantly dropped my hands onto her hips.

“Don’t worry about me. It’s alright.” She said shaking her head at my all too evident apprehension.

“What’s alright?” I asked over the music.

“Being free.” She answered easily.

What was being free going to do to me?


Now they’re going to bed

And my stomach is sick

And it’s all in my head

But she’s touching his chest now

He takes off her dress now.

Let me go

I had seen her tonight for the first time since she’d ended things. I hadn’t expected it. It’s strange how you can live with the scars of the pain and then one thing can just bring it all back for you. Seeing her again and all the pain from ending things came right back. Then I started drinking because of what I was seeing.

She’d been with someone else. It’d only been a couple months since she said it was over. I had seen it coming. I hardly had any time for her and she’d always been independent. Once our relationship stopped having something in it for her, she would be done. She’s not a cold person, she’s just not the type to stay in a situation that feels like it’s killing her. I don’t blame her since I felt the killing pain too, I just thought it was worth it for us to be together. But she thought with her head and my head was dragged along by my heart.

She’d even been wearing the same dress. The same girly little black dress I loved to unzip at the end of the night as we came together like lost puzzle pieces. She’d been laughing sitting on the arm of a couch with her legs over his and his arms resting in her lap. He was making her laugh and that realization almost killed me. I loved to make her laugh, knowing that the light that that swept across her face came from something I had said.

I was at the other side of the room getting a beer. When I stopped talking, my friends knew something was wrong. They had looked around and saw her and I had stubbornly turned away, determined not to let her and her new boyfriend get to me but they already had.

I left shortly after that. I didn’t want to see them anymore but I already was in my head. I could see them sliding into a more intimate position on the couch as the evening wore one. I could see her arms falling around his shoulders as his wrapped like a blanket around her waist in the same place my arms were fitting so perfectly mere months before. I saw the entrancing smile I still dreamed about filling her face as she leaned into him, the one she wanted now and how he smiled up at her knowing that he was the envy of the guys in the room. I could see her hands interlocking with his… After that moment I left. I couldn’t watch anymore but I could still them, their night together, playing like a movie designed to torture me in my eyes.

I could see her pulling on a jacket going toward the door waiting for him for a moment. I could practically here the click of her heels on the pavement as they walked. I saw her leaning against his arm until they made it back to her place. She’d be smiling as they moved smoothly to the bedroom. When the door closed behind them, her hand would land lightly on his chest feeling his heartbeat. His hands would land against her back to the zipper of her dress, their eyes locked together as he pulled it down and the fabric slipped away from her skin. I could see her teeth bite just the slightest bit into her dark lips with anticipation. I could see how his hands would run over her as he drunk her in, just the way I had before…

I knew it was in my head and I knew it might be what was happening but I could still see it and I could feel the great things we’d had just slipping further and further away.

Soon she’d be completely out of reach…

Even in my memory…


But it’s just the price I pay

Destiny is calling me

Open up my eager eyes

‘Cause I’m Mr. Brightside

There’s a price I pay every day and like most prices people pay my price comes with pain. In order to do what I love to do and what I think I should be doing, I have to leave her behind. It started when we met and I can tell you it felt like destiny.

I’d been sitting in the library with my eyes closed and leaning back in the chair. I was trying to use mental imaging technique to imagine myself as a rock star in the hopes that doing it would get me there or something like that…

“Excuse me,” I heard a pretty voice say. I smirked. Pretty voices meant girls and I liked girls.

“I’m going to guess you’re the confident type huh?” She said with a tinkling giggle in her voice. That sound stirred something in my brain and I was already trying to figure out ways to hear it over and over again forever.

“What is it?” I said with my smirk coming off even in my voice. I still hadn’t opened my eyes yet. She giggled again.

“I just wondered what you were doing? You were leaning back too precariously to be sleeping so…” She trailed off. I smiled bigger. I really wanted to see what she looked like but I held off in order to have a moment to picture it myself.

“I am day dreaming.” I said and she laughed. I finally opened up my eager eyes. She was prettier than I’d imagined…

Her eyes were squinting with laughter and her pink lips curling into the prettiest smile I’d ever seen. Her locks framed her face and moved with her smoothly.

“Mind if I sit?” She asked pointing to another chair at my table. I gestured for her to join me while I sat up.

“So…” She said after getting settled and looking back at me. When I looked into her eyes, my heart skipped a beat and I finally understood the cliché statement.

“So…” I said smirking again to cover up my rapidly racing mind.

“What were you daydreaming about?” She asked with a friendly smile.

“Being a rock star.” I said proudly and she smiled.

“Not girls? Wow. You dream big.” She replied and I laughed.
“Well I mean, one girl entered into my thoughts expectantly.” I replied and she laughed again.

“Girls never come around when you expect them too.” She said and I nodded.

A new thought entered my head and stuck there with a feeling of truth; she was the one I was destined for, she was my destiny. I fell in love with a voice and then I girl and I am still struggling to get my balance even after all this time.

Now that I am living my dream of being a rock star, it means I’m leaving her behind every time I go. I hate paying that price, not being with her, to live my dream.
But that’s the thing, destiny never really lets you go and it doesn’t leave you behind and it will catch up to you every time.

For me that holds more meaning.

She leaned closer to me over the table. “What’s your name?” She asked.

“Michael…” I replied and she nodded.

“I’m Destiny.”


It started out with a kiss

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss

It was only a kiss

Maybe she was my drug and then maybe I just got addicted and like all addicts I found I couldn’t let go of her or the feeling or the sensation. I could let any of it go because I needed it in order to avoid feeling the low after the high. After all, once you get high, coming down again is almost the worst feeling ever.

The clearest memory is how it started. We’d met at a party. I asked her to dance. The feeling of her body moving against mine was enough to get me to be begging for more. I wanted more. As the night wore on and the wanting increased and her eyes became more like bottomless pools I was already falling into, she lifted her arms up and wrapped them around my neck. She had a suggestive grin picking up the corner of her mouth as she pulled me closer. I had a dazed smile on my face, already partly too high to know everything that was going on.

Then she kissed me. Just a kiss but neither of us could stop. I could feel her hands against my jaw and cheeks pulling me even closer than I thought I could’ve ever been to someone else before. My hands gripped blindly, desperately to her. She pulled me through the crowd with her lips never leaving mine. She kept going until she became pressed up against a wall and she pulled me closer. Things were rushing, sparks were flying in the attraction sense and I could’ve sworn I could see them igniting around us.

That was my first taste. When you get addicted, the first taste is where it begins. She’d found a void, a hole or something in me and the only thing that could fill it was her. It spiraled from there. That same night we fell into a taxi going as fast as we could to her place. We stumbled into her room, desperate to get that hit, that taste of the other’s skin. What we needed to curb the desperation.

She became the thing that consumed. Everything I felt I needed. I couldn’t want or think of anything else. She made my thoughts disappear when we were together. No one ever tells you that your thoughts can kill you. No ever tells you how addictive it can be when you find something that just makes the chaos in your head stop and fade away into a numb haze.

But there never tell you the danger of when your head gets like that. How that’s when you lose your sense. You lose who are when your head gets hazy.

It all started with a kiss. In my rare moments of lucidity, usually during withdraw, I asked how it ended up like this. How something that felt so good was so bad, for the both of us. From the pictures on her walls, she’d been a good girl but she’d lost that now. I’d been a good boy but I’d completely lost myself. But that’s the thing about the things that feel good, like how junk food tastes good, it’s just not good.

The bad things hide behind appealing appearances and good tastes, like the taste of her on my lips. She was the addiction that was breaking me. She was the thing that was killing me. But nothing felt better than letting it happen, than letting myself slip away and my thoughts die in a haze.

We were filling each other’s addiction but we weren’t healing each other.

But it all started with a kiss.

And it was a very good kiss.

One I’ll never forget.


Empty Dreams

This series is about children who have dreams but aren’t able to live them. The images were taken back during the early 1900’s where children did not have much of a childhood. They were made to work on the family farm or go to the city to work in sweat shops to help raise money for their family so that they could survive. I wanted to touch on how children have dreams and should be able to live them. The dreams in these images are empty because they will never be reached due to the circumstances that they live in. 

Pretty Face and Electric Soul

by izanamii /


Kuroo Tetsurou is finally living his dream. He’s a rock star, front man of the wildly popular new band, Trash Kings, and last weekend he had lunch with The White Stripes. But a chance encounter at one of the Trash Kings’ concerts in his home city causes Kuroo to cross paths with Kozume Kenma, a gifted classically-trained musician. Needless to say, Kuroo falls head over heels for his new “musical angel”, but Kenma isn’t having any of Kuroo’s rock and roll bullshit.

Oops my hand slipped ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ This story is fricking amazing and I really wanted to draw rocker Kuroo. Should I color it?