the bane of our existences

yoi fic rec list, part 6

we’ll be suffering for updates but it’s worth it

seek those who fan your flames by ebenroot / @ebenroot

Yuuri gets hand-delivered a black-print T-shirt by one of his bodyguards on Friday. There’s a small sticky note attached to the collar in Victor’s handwriting that reads: ‘Our new band shirt! Logo is still a work in progress. Name too. But it’s a start! Let me know what you think after school. - Victor’

There’s a heart next to his name that is hastily scribbled out. Then another heart next to that one, like Victor decided to put it in anyways.

Yuuri thinks he’s in love.

in which Yuuri is a teenager that’s actually a prince, and Victor is a teenager with a band that just wants to listen to rock music with him

I got Princess Diaries vibes while I read the story and it’s a whooping 10k!

Yuuri is a prince but no one knows he’s a prince, except for Phichit. The people at school thought he got his team of bodyguards because his parents are rich people. But hey, there’s this teenager Yuuri meets at the arcade and he likes rock music and wants Yuuri to watch to his band performance!

VICTOR PERFORMING ROCK MUSIC, COUNT ME IN!


 Binding of Winter by dia_dove / @iceprincess-yuri

The Beasts, giant creatures with great power, have always been there to protect them. At least that was the story Yuuri’s mother had always told him. But there is more to that story than Yuuri knows.

A fantasy AU in which Viktor, the new leader of the Great Beasts chooses Yuuri as his future mate.

I have one word: wolves.

Yuuri is only five when he is promised to be the future mate of the leader of the Great Beasts. However, if you think he’s walking down this path with his own will, it’s not happening, especially when no one bothers to tell him what’s going on!

It’s time for two strangers to get to know each other.


I Write Sins, Not Tragedies by cuttlemefish / @cuttlemefishwrites

Things would be a little easier if Yuuri wasn’t so in love with his husband Viktor, especially considering they have an arranged marriage. Two years after their wedding, Yuuri and Viktor are incredibly in love, but can’t seem to get over the hump of their platonic union to consummate their marriage! Good thing Yuuri is the most (in)famous erotic fanfiction author of the Love in the Streets fandom. Now, he’s got the support of the Internet to figure out how to seduce his husband, if only he can continue to keep their identities a secret.

Or, the AU in which everyone thinks Yuuri and Viktor have the perfect marriage full of adventurous sex when, in fact, Viktor sleeps in the guest bedroom and Yuuri writes erotic fanfiction to quench his thirst.

GOSH THE ROMANTIC COMEDY FEELS

I look forward to see the Internet helps Yuuri to seduce his husband.


What Now? by shereadsthestars

Viktor Nikiforov, Niki to his closest friends- well, closest friend, singular, prefers to keep his nose clean.

He’s not the type to hold a strong presence in the room, or even dominate the conversation. He’s quiet, and mindful. And would really just like to finish out the rest of his college career in peace.

So it’s no question that his unwavering, slightly over-the-top infatuation with one Yuuri Katsuki is a bit of a problem.

.. being that Yuuri Katsuki is the guy on campus everyone either wants to be, bang, or just generally know and be on good terms with.

He’s the life of the party. The center of fun. The prime source of the juciest rumors and stories stringing about from dorm room to dorm room. And he’s so far out of Viktor’s league that Viktor isn’t even sure himself what league Yuuri lands in. One of his own, surely.

So what happens when Yuuri asks Viktor’s closest friend where 'that cute guy you’re always hanging out with’ is one night, at an annual get together?

Planetary dysfunction. That’s what.

This story makes me feel warm all over the places because when you thought it’s a one-sided love (from Victor to Yuuri), it turns out to be mutual pining for both sides. DAMN IT THIS STORY IS SO SOFT!


we’ll always have paris by spookyfoot / @katsukiyuuristrophyhusband

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s discovered a new frequency.
“Phichit,” Yuuri hisses, “be quiet.” As though Victor can somehow hear them from the table, thirty meters away.
“I am deeply offended that you failed to text me the very minute you ran into Victor Nikiforov, subject of your teenage and not-so-teenaged fantasies, bane of my existence, and the reason the wall between our rooms has an indent shaped like a fist.” Phichit actually gets louder.
“How—”
“There’s like 50 new photos of you on Victor’s Instagram.”
“Just…shut up for a second!” Yuuri pulls the phone away from his ear. He can still hear Phichit screeching, “don’t ignore me! I raised you!”
Yuuri ignores him. Phichit’s avalanche of laughter echoes against the tile.
He pulls up Victor’s Instagram. Yuuri doesn’t even remember Victor taking seventy five percent of these.
“Yuuri! Stop masturbating, we have to go!” Victor is officially the worst.

____

Or: the canon divergent au where Yuuri doesn’t screw up Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor in the Paris airport on the way to Worlds in Sweden, and somehow embarrasses himself into a relationship on the 18 hour train ride between Paris and Malmö.

Every chapter of this story is an adventure and I love it! I really appreciate it when authors take the dedication to research stuffs. It feels nice to learn a few things or two while reading fanfictions.

I especially love the part where Victor and Yuuri break into the kitchen because they are hungry. Also, the sightseeing makes me imagine all the cool stuffs.

the bright sessions and labels

To most lgbtq+ folks, characters who “don’t like labels” are the bane of our existence. We’ve heard that used so many times- when a writer wants to introduce a same-sex plot line to a previously heterosexual character but doesn’t want to utter the word bisexual, for example. Or to hint at trans or ace or polyamorous characters without actually coming out and saying it. “I don’t like labels” is a shield that writers can hide shoddy representation behind.

The bright sessions’ Caleb is too busy managing life with his boyfriend and his superpowers to think about the semantics of a label. He’s fine with not having some exact word for his sexuality. Normally this might raise a couple red flags, but personally I don’t find it offensive in the least for one simple reason. Though Caleb isn’t sure, the bright sessions includes many characters who are. It includes many gay characters, lesbian characters, bisexual and asexual characters whose sexualities are brought up in a casual and ordinary manner. I was so happy when the words “asexual” and “bisexual” were spoken in passing in a manner no different than alluding to a character’s personality or hair color. 

The truth is, there are people who don’t like labels or haven’t decided on one yet, and that’s okay. I’ve been in the same situation as Caleb, and I think many other people have been there too- a high schooler who wasn’t sure of their sexuality, who knew they were queer but was honestly not interested in spending a long time figuring out a label. It’s when this is all we see that it becomes nasty trope. But the bright sessions is so full of happy queer people who are confident in their identities. If everyone was constantly angsting over the fact that they didn’t know who they liked, or hinting at queerness without saying it outright, things would be different. But this diversity allows Caleb’s story to be told. 

Anyway, I’d like to thank Lauren Shippen for telling the story of a questioning young person in such a realistic and sensitive way, and for making her podcast so gosh dang gay. 

alivingfandoomreference  asked:

Virgil is having a rlly hard time doing basic things. i.e. talking to the other sides, he's getting too nervous, cants sleep at nite. He goes to Logan for advice. Yet butterflies attack his insides and when he look as at Logan all he can do is blush and the same is happening for Logan. Idk it's all fluff in my head

Pairing: Analogical 

Warnings: Sleep deprivation 

Word Count: 784

Sleepy Crushes


Virgil was having one of those days. One of those days where his heart was beating too fast, his hands too shaky, and every little sound would make him jump.

He could barely sleep the night before as his thoughts spiraled to all the mistakes he made the day before: he dropped Patton’s cookies, so obviously Patton hated him now; he spaced out when Roman was talking to him, so now Roman probably thinks he doesn’t care about him; and he played his music so loudly that Logan had to tell him to make it quieter so he could work, so now Logan believes that he’s disrespectful.

Logan. Normally Virgil would go to Logan for help when he can’t sleep, lest he have a day like this. But lately, Virgil’s been having these butterflies in his stomach when he talks to Logan, and no they aren’t just normal I-am-talking-to-someone-dear-lord-save-me anxiety feelings.These butterflies have been more like I-have-a-stupid-crush-dear-lord-save-me feelings.

Keep reading

I mean its true that TERFs are radfems I guess, but tbh there is a difference in behavior enough I feel like maybe they sort of aren’t….like radfems seem ignorant of intersection totally or willfully ignore it, while TERFs take intersectionality and spin it to victimize themselves and brainwash people into seeing it as an evil thing

Like radfem rhetoric is “women are the most oppressed, men hold all oppression, this is literally the only dynamic what’s a trans person” and TERFs are “radical feminism but you need to remember that trans people are the bane of our existence are are definitely more violent than men”

anonymous asked:

I LOVE YOUR ART!!!! I want to be a great artist like you one day. Do you have any tips for a young artist? I've only been drawing for a couple years.

NEVER STOP DRAWING!!! use as many refs as you can, they’re here to help you! Never be afraid to step out of your artistic boundaries! Art blocks are the bane of our existence, but they’re not as bad as they seem! Art breaks are not catastrophic, sometimes you just deplete yourself and need to recharge! Study color harmony! Perspective! The Line of Action! Practice!!! Warm up doodles before big pieces are important!

BUT please don’t rush yourself! Everyone learns at their own pace and that’s okay! Some will be better than you, but that’s okay! Cause you can DRAW!! AND THATS BOMB!! 👍👍❤❤

These are just pointers. Every artist learns at their own pace and their own ways, it’s up to you to discover how you’ll learn!!

Shit I’m back

Here’s a story – 

I used to work at a famous art museum as a lowly ticket counter lackey. I’d sell memberships and greet guests, and have to wrangle wheelchairs at the end of the day.  I experienced some awesome things while I was there – I got to see a giant Roman sculpture lowered through a hole in the ceiling, pass a custodial holiday party in the bowels of the museum that had a smoke machine and a disco ball, sell a ticket to Crispin Glover, who was just as awkward as you might imagine. I also got to work ten feet away from the Mummy Room, which I always thought was kind of neat. They were like my dead coworkers. 

(As an aside – does anyone remember the Reading Rainbow episode, Mummies Made in Egypt? The actual mummies in that episode were the ones I got to hang out with. I was totally traumatized by that episode as a kid but hey, closure!)

Then Chihuly happened. 

You might know his work if you’ve ever visited the lobby of a casino or hotel. 

This fucker. 

His work on a grand scale is pretty impressive, and so every single person in the damn region came to see this exhibition. It was insanely busy, and people were rude, and nobody could pronounce his last name so us lackeys had to guess what people were talking about. 

“One ticket to see the Chihuahua.” 

“I’d like to see the Gillooly please.”

“Are their spaces left for the Chapula?”

Only they were ruder, because that is the nature of people who have been waiting in a line for an hour to then stand in another line to see botanical garden art. 

So Chihuly became the bane of our existence. There were complicated audio guides we were told to sell that confused the hell out of old people, visitors were often crammed into the exhibition rooms, which made the galleries so warm that you could see condensation on the glass, and us lackeys bore the brunt of everyone’s frustration. Literally every day we had someone scream at us for our ticketing policies – because us lackeys were clearly the masterminds behind it.

Cue THE BUSINESS SCHOOL BROS

The museum would get rented out for functions occasionally. (Once there was a Jewish wedding in the European galleries and the groom stomped a little too hard on the glass, and for the rest of the evening he tracked blood around the Rembrandts and El Grecos.)  A very well known business school in Cambridge, Massachusetts rented out a good chunk of the museum for a reception, but NOT the area where the exhibit was. In fact, the exhibit was in the basement, and it order to get to it at night you had to climb down a flight of stairs and over a couple of visible you-can’t-fucking-cross-here rope barriers.

 However, at the bottom of the stairs was one piece. These, in fact: 

Only GIANT, and self standing. 

So I come into work the next day and see this great big hole in the exhibit lobby piece. I ask my coworker, “am I cray, or is there a piece missing from that?”

To which my coworker replies, “oh, yeah. It broke last night.”

I, of course, had to do some snooping, and found out from a guard what had happened. Someone thought it was a good idea to have an open bar at this museum function, and naturally one of the business bros got insanely drunk. He stumbled down the stairs to find a bathroom, and must have been distracted by the shiny, colorful glass at the bottom. Well his drunken brain told him to hop the stanchions to take closer look, and then HE DRUNKENLY FELL INTO ONE OF THE PIECES, SHATTERING THE THING ALL OVER THE LOBBY.

So the museum had to place an order for a replacement, Chihuly was kind of pissed, and the next day my fellow lackeys and I all had a good chuckle. I don’t have to tell you that when they packed up that exhibit for good we all went to the local dive bar and drank ourselves stupid. 


Anyway, that’s a little bit about me. Maybe one day I’ll tell you about the OTHER museum I used to work out. Once I had to untangle the wig of a John Adams reenactor from his umbrella. Oh, and then there was the Abraham Lincoln reenactor who showed up at a colonial America reenactment. OH, OH, AND ONCE LEONARDO DICAPRIO TRIED TO BRING HIS DOG INTO THE MUSEUM. 

Golden Tongue (Bias x Reader) Pt. 15

Jesse has been shot. There’s sirens heard above you. Such chaos. B/N is at Jesse’s side, everyone trying to run and hide but there’s only one exit that happens to be the entrance. Some even decide to run outside, dozens of gunshots going off.

How did the day turn out so horrible? Wasn’t it just hours ago you and Jesse were out getting food to celebrate with B/N? 

Now, as you watch Jesse bleed out on the floor with B/N struggling to hold himself together to help his friend, you know that there must be something that can help him. 

Out of the many people here, someone must be able to heal. 

You look for Adra, finding him trying to escape with the crowd that’s too impatient to take turns to go through the narrow doorway.

But you don’t chase him. Using that telekinetic power, you drag him towards you. You’re so angry, tears flooding your eyes because of all the needless damage that’s been done tonight for entertainment. 

“Who has the power to heal here?” you demand Adra to tell you, but instead he laughs at you on the floor. 

“To save your friend? That bullet went right through his lung, he won’t make it,” 

You clench your fist, indicating that whatever you were crushing, it was him. He’s gasping for air, until blood shoots out of his mouth. 

“Now you have a collapsed lung. And I’m sure you’ll need someone to save you. Who is your healer?” 

He laughs some more with a cough, “I don’t have one,” 

You remember seeing him shock people to death, developing an idea, “Electricity? Or shockwaves?” 

His laughter falters, his face serious and fearful. 

You grab him by his temples, him screaming as soon as you send the pain waves through him. 

“Who is your healer?” 

“Farah!” 

Before you can look for her, a girl steps forward timidly. 

“Save him,” you point to Jesse. B/N has his hands pressed against his chest, trying to stop the blood flow. She’s frozen. After all that’s taken place, how can she freeze in fear? “Now!” she rushes to Jesse’s side. 

Adra exhales in exhaustion, “I’ve killed so many of you, yet you keep appearing. You’re the bane of our existence,” 

You ignore him, hearing B/N speak with the girl, “Tell me, is it possible or not?” 

“It’s not. There’s little that I can do. I can’t heal him. I’m sorry!” 

You leave Adra to go to Jesse’s side, not needing him for anything else. There’s so much blood surrounding him that you almost slip in it. 

“I’ll use the girl’s power. It’ll be stronger if I do it,” Jesse’s head is in B/N’s lap. You press your hand against the areas where the bullet went through, using everything in you to heal him. 

Tearing his shirt, you can see the hole closing in his chest as well as feeling the one closing in his back. You keep your hand there, willing his lung to close as well. 

A few minutes tick by but something isn’t right. 

“Why does he still look like this? He should be better, right?” B/N asks you. 

“Look at the blood he’s lost,” Farah observes. You don’t like the sound of her voice. 

“Why does that matter?!” 

Farah is crying, “There is so little our powers can do. It can’t replenish that much blood loss,” 

“There are flaws in everything,” Adra coughs behind you, “Try your luck at a hospital,” 

B/N’s had enough of Adra’s mouth, ready to get up, but you stop him. 

“Stay with Jesse,” 

As you walk towards Adra, the same smug look is on his face, even with him bleeding internally.

“Come to finish me off? I’ve been waiting. Doesn’t look like your friend will make it,” 

You swallow the urge to literally pull him to piece.

“Why do they call people like me Consumers?” you ask him instead. 

He’s too eager to answer questions that you don’t know, “Because you not only use the powers of those around you, if you will it, you can absorb their powers as well,” 

“Is that so?” you tap his knee with your finger, “Does it last after the source is dead too?” He sees the look in your eyes, realizing all he’s just confessed. His mouth is tight, “You talk too much,” 

He tries to fight you but it doesn’t work. Your hands are on his head, willing his power from his own body. Instead of feeling drained once you use power of any kind, you feel a surge of energy coursing through your fingers. 

Adra is screaming and you can’t tell if it’s painful or if it’s because he’s losing a part of himself. His power is gone but you need him to feel all that he’s done. You send the energy into his body, and he shakes the same way the people he killed did as well. His eyes roll to the back of his head, his mouth bleeding from biting his tongue so hard. Once you release him, he doesn’t move. But neither is he completely dead. 

Jesse wheezes once you’re by his side again. His face has lost so much color that he looks as white as paper. You hold his hand at your lips. You’ve only known him for a few weeks and you already felt so close to him. 

He bites his lip, tears slipping into his hair, “Shit. Am I really gonna die?” he laughs before his lips begin to quiver. 

Suddenly, his eyes start to lose focus, “I’m so tired,” he sighs.

Jesse’s eyes close and B/N begins to slap his cheeks, yelling his name. He checks his pulse, doing the only thing he can think to do; chest compressions. He presses against his heart again and again until Jesse wakes up gasping. 

“Come on, I’m not letting you die here,” he tries to pick up Jesse, but Jesse takes his arm, stopping him. Without a word, he shakes his head. 

Jesse has lost so much blood that he’s slowly dying in front of you both. 

Jesse struggles to speak, “I know I made you promise to never do this but…I’m scared as hell right now,” his body is shaking, tears slipping into his hair, “I want you to take my fear away,” 

“We can go to the hospital right now,” B/N ignores his request.

He shakes his head, “I don’t think I’m gonna make it,” he even manages a smile, “And I think you know that too,” 

B/N clenches his jaw, looking at you as if asking what he should do. You nod. Driving to the hospital, he won’t make it. B/N’s exhale is a shuddering breath, “Okay,” 

You hold Jesse’s head in your lap so that B/N is able to look at him. 

But he can’t seem to find the words to say. B/N looks at you again, and he seems so small and frightened, “I can’t do this,” 

You won’t make him do anything, instead you tell him, “It’s okay,” As you tell him this, you’re also wondering if this is the only thing you could actually do. 

He looks at Jesse’s face, focusing on his eyes, “You’re going to sleep. And it’s gonna be painless and lovely. The best sleep you’ve ever had,” 

Jesse’s muscles begins to loosen, his mind beginning to be put at ease as B/N’s power takes effect. 

“You’re gonna wake up in your bed, in our house, and you’re gonna make a huge breakfast and not give me any,” Jesse smiles but B/N tears are coming so fast you’re not sure he’s able to see clearly. 

He takes your hand, squeezing it so tightly. He pauses before continuing, “It won’t hurt,” 

“It won’t hurt,” Jesse mumbles, his face blank. 

“There’s nothing to fear. You’ll be the happiest you’ve ever been,” 

He smiles again, “I’ll be happy,” 

“And I will be there when you wake up,” 

“You’ll be there,” 

“You’re not scared,” 

“I’m not scared,” 

B/N’s voice breaks, his hand shaking in your own, “I love you, Jesse. And I’m sorry…I’m so sorry,” 

“You are my brother,” Jesse replies, his mind once again his own. Those four words summed up everything: forgiveness, acceptance, and love. 

B/N smoothes Jesse’s hair from his face, “Sleep. It’s gonna be okay. I’m right here,” 

“Okay…” Jesse sighs, as if he’s been waiting for B/N to give him permission to finally sleep. Seconds tick by. Jesse’s been squeezing your hand tightly, but then his grip loosens until you’re the only one holding his hand. His breath comes short, and you cover your mouth because you’re watching someone die. B/N is calm, being strong for Jesse. He releases one last breath before he stops breathing altogether, his eyes staring at the ceiling. 

B/N doesn’t move. He continues to stroke Jesse’s face. 

“I’ll be right here when you wake up,” B/N says, as if Jesse hadn’t left at all. You can’t believe this is happening.


B/N’s never lost anyone close to him and regrets every time he’s said the words, “It’ll get better,” to someone in pain. With Jesse unmoving before him, with Y/N holding her knees to her chest as she weeps, no other feeling could be described except for him wanting to die. 

The guilt was so heavy, his grief like a boulder crushing his chest. His mind couldn’t process the loss of his friend, the only person he considered closer than family. Jesse was the little brother he never had. And it’s his own fault he lays dead in front of him. 

Did no one exist that controlled time? Could no one go back twelve hours to fix this mistake of a day. He doesn’t feel like he’s awake. This moment doesn’t feel real, it’s a horrible reality, possible an alternative reality. Anything is possible at this point. 

He tries to think up any other possibility, hoping that would be the case but his eyes continue to rest on Jesse’s face, with his eyes opened and his chest unmoving. Wasn’t it just hours ago he saw Y/N and Jesse laughing on the sidewalk? 

Reality sinks into his mind so heavily, he feels like he’ll break. 

“Jesse, wake up,” he nudges his side, “Wake up!” 

His words get Y/N’s attention, her face covered in tears. She reaches for him but he avoids her touch. He does what he did before. He presses Jesse’s chest, knowing in a moment he’ll wake up gasping. 

Y/N stops him after the fifth set of compressions, grabbing his arm, “He’s gone,” she says. But he actually cannot accept that. 

He fights her off, moving back to Jesse. He breathes into his mouth, doing anything in his power to bring him back to life because his life wasn’t supposed to be taken today. 

Y/N wraps her arms around his shoulders from behind, keeping his hands by his side. She’s stronger than him, but he couldn’t beat her if he tried, he’s so weak from this ordeal. 

He slumps against her chest and she continues to hold him closely, “I’m sorry,” she whispers against his shoulder. 

He presses his palms against his eyes, finally accepting what he thought he couldn’t and wails. 

Nova vs 20: Rival concerns.

Hello everyone, Mr.e here wishing you an amazing week and day! Sorry I am late with this i’ve been pretty busy with life, and packing (i am leaving for vacation tomorrow. I was trying to finish another always a star chapter before I left but sadly was not able to sorry) but at least we got a novy right? 

so here it is the next chapter taking place on a Saturday. Please enjoy, let me know what you think of it and don’t let the ending lines kill you haha man I’m evil. but have a great day!

If you stumbled upon this and are curious what is this, the link below will help

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11773524/1/Nova-Butterfly-vs-the-Forces-of-Adolescence

Notification squad: @hipster-rapunzel @thefandombytes @isolated-frequencies @artgirllullaby @minthia-ren 

Keep reading

we’ll always have paris by @katsukiyuuristrophyhusband- Fic rec moodboards  [17/?]

“Yuuri!” Phichit’s discovered a new frequency.
“Phichit,” Yuuri hisses, “be quiet.” As though Victor can somehow hear them from the table, thirty meters away.
“I am deeply offended that you failed to text me the very minute you ran into Victor Nikiforov, subject of your teenage and not-so-teenaged fantasies, bane of my existence, and the reason the wall between our rooms has an indent shaped like a fist.” Phichit actually gets louder.
“How—”
“There’s like 50 new photos of you on Victor’s Instagram.”
“Just…shut up for a second!” Yuuri pulls the phone away from his ear. He can still hear Phichit screeching, “don’t ignore me! I raised you!”
Yuuri ignores him. Phichit’s avalanche of laughter echoes against the tile.
He pulls up Victor’s Instagram. Yuuri doesn’t even remember Victor taking seventy five percent of these.
“Yuuri! Stop masturbating, we have to go!” Victor is officially the worst.

Or: the canon divergent au where Yuuri doesn’t screw up Japanese Nationals, runs into Victor in the Paris airport on the way to Worlds in Sweden, and somehow embarasses himself into a relationship on the 18 hour train ride between Paris and Malmö.

awidevariety  asked:

Oh goodness okay so I just watched Jupiter Ascending for the sole purpose of Eddie Redmayne, and I can't get over how, for lack of a better word, bad it was? Like it was entertaining I guess but idk I was getting the vibe that it just really wanted to be Star Wars but I think the astrology part of it was really cool

Welcome to the bane of our fandom’s existence. lol It’s a bad movie, and yet it’s a train wreck you can’t help but enjoy for some odd reason. We all watched for Eddie and ended up confused haha

Really the only good parts: The Special effects, and Balem. And honestly, he got robbed of decent screen time. He’s a drama queen, I love it.

just a psa

Hi there, I just re-read ‘Hitched’ and I wanted to say that I really like this story. I was also wondering if you plan to add more to it maybe a '5 years later’ or something in order to see how they continue after their reunion.
Thank you.

so this is, on its face, a perfectly polite and nice message. sure. cool. glad you liked it, hon

but guys. please realize something about fanfiction writers

we are doing this shit for free. we rarely, if ever, get commissions.  and 99% of the time, we write our stories for (a) our own personal gratification, and/or (b) the joy of getting feedback

as a result, giving praise while in the same breath poking us to write more of the same story with your ideas in mind, especially if the story is finished and marked as “Complete,” is just going to signal to your author that if she’d written more, you would have liked the story better. that if she’d done things your way and continued the story or changed its ending, it would have been better

which (a) is unproductive, insofar as the story is exactly what it’s going to be and you’d better enjoy what you fucking get, and also (b) it will piss off the author

so for example, every time i get a review or PM/anon message in which the person suggests or requests (as if they are the first person to have this revolutionary idea) that i write a second epilogue or sequel to the story “hitched”

even if it’s the most polite and grammatically correct message i’ve ever received

i look at the sequel i’m already fucking writing and think, “wow. i am now 0.5% less motivated to finish this thing”

because i liked how i wrote the original ending. i’m only writing more because i like my babies gettin’ it on and bc that particular AU was fun to write. and when i get messages suggesting (as this one delicately does) that their ‘reunion’ at the end wasn’t enough, my brain automatically digs in its heels and screams FUCK YOU GUYS, I’M NOT GIVING YOU ANY MORE

so in summary: please stop this. it’s called a “backhanded compliment” and it’s the bane of our collective fucking existence as fanfic writers

Rivalmance

anon prompted:  I read this and aw, please write this: We’re both professors in the same department and it enhances your reputation with the students as a mysterious enigma and my reputation as a stone-cold terror if we pretend to hate each other, plus when we back each other up in departmental meetings everybody’s so surprised they give in right away.
also for my klainebingo prompt “office”

Sorry it took me so long to fill this!!! Hope you enjoy anon :) (in case anyone is confused, Blaine teaches History of Musical Theater - I never explicitly state it lol.)

Read on AO3

i.

Exactly four hours before the Musical Theater department faculty meeting, Kurt receives an email detailing the classes he will be teaching that upcoming semester. Which means that Kurt has exactly four hours to stew in anger about it, and four hours to build up one of the most dramatic entrances to a faculty meeting he’s ever given.

“What the fuck is this?” he asks as he walks in, shoving his printed out schedule in Blaine’s face. Blaine barely glances at it, his lips curling into a little smile as he sips his coffee.

Keep reading

Deck your desk

Ideas for making your study space so cute that it’ll actually make you want to study  

Love it or loathe it, you simply can’t ignore it. No, we are not referring to the recent LGBT upsurge. We are talking about studies. Yes. It may be the bane of our existence but there is no getting away from it because no education means no good job, no good job means you don’t get a decent partner and family, and eventually have no future. Ultimately you die a miserable death in a lonely apartment with lots of pet cats. Yes, we exaggerate for effect but you get the gist. One thing that can make you more zealous about studying is a nicely organised desk. Oh, the joys of a neat, personalised and organised desk with everything in its own place! So unless you want to die alone, get de-cluttering right away for a desk that looks like an OCD’s dream come true.

Organisation is key

Some of our desks look like a nerd bomb went off; rubbles of notes and books everywhere, pens with lost caps here and there. Your clutter casualty needs immediate attention. Try to make a designated place for all the supplies and make sure you always put them back there when you are done using them. That will significantly reduce all the clutter as you won’t have to spend more than a second worrying where something should go. As for pens, raid your kitchen and find a mason jar, tin can or an old glass from a broken set to store your pens. Or you can always DIY a nice container. For your notebooks and copies use a magazine holder because there is no rule that magazine holders should only hold magazines. You can also make yourself a caddy to hold all other supplies using cardboard boxes. Or for some extra snazz make a mason jar cubby. To make life easier use a nice and big calendar and keep track of deadlines more easily.

Lighting is everything

Studying makes our future bright so it’s only fair that we study in a well-lit space too. It is best to position your desk near a light source. However, if that’s not an option get a desk lamp but make sure your lamp does not take up too much space. If you have a large window try to take full advantage of the sunlight by placing your desk near it. Working in poor lighting will stress you out and strain your eyes both of which is not good.

Zen it out

Your desk can be your zen zone too. Yes, you read that right. To get rid of the stiff mundane air and get that much needed dose of inspiration, decorate the walls of your study space with motivational quotes to get you going. You can put up some pictures of your squad or your graduation for some warmth. For a touch of greenery add some mini plants. Cactuses are the best choice because it’s almost impossible to kill them. Greenery has been proven to lower blood-pressure and stress levels, as well as purify the air. Also you can keep some colorful candies in a nice container because to some of us food is the highest form of zen. The bright colours will give a nice punch and of course who doesn’t like snacking while studying? If you really wish to channel positive energy then keep your desk as clean as possible. Keep a small trash can handy for those trash papers because it’s impossible to not make any mistakes while doing homework. The idea is to create an inviting and comfortable space.