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Fav Musicals Songs that are Pretty Underrated

For Forever - Dear Evan Hansen

My House - Matilda the Musical

A Way Back to Then - [title of show]

Part of it all - [title of show]

Disappear - The Burnt Part Boys

Time - Tuck Everlasting

One Last Time - Hamilton

When Your Feet Don’t Touch the Ground - Finding Neverland

You and Me (Mostly Me) - Book of Mormon

A Little Fall of Rain - Les Misérables

I’m Not That Girl - Wicked

Wonderful - Wicked

Maybe - Miss Saigon

Opening Up - Waitress

I Wish I Could Go Back to College - Avenue Q

Memphis Lives in Me - Memphis the Musical

B.A.P as Youtubers
  • Yongguk: Indie music artist, edgy monochrome home-made MV's of people walking in streets and broken buildings, actively doing charity events, does videos of him talking about social issues but with his face cut out of frame, literally everyone had tried to parody him and his voice at some point
  • Himchan: Lifestyle blogger with one of those really annoying intro's like "HELLO MY DEAR WATCHERS IT IS ME, HIMCHAN, AGAIN WITH ANOTHER VIDEO!!!". Always sponsored by beauty products, fashion lines, app games, diet foods. Really click-bait video titles and icons. Does loads of collabs because he's friends with everyone. Does regular meetups with fans.
  • Daehyun: Cover artist who changes genre of the song to make video's like "WHAT WOULD BOHEMIAN RHAPSODY SOUND LIKE IF IT WAS AN R&B TRACK??????". Probably a huge musical nerd. A little bit Thomas Sanders with the good vibes and kindness. mas massive following of teenage girls who leave disturbing graphic comments on all his videos and instagram posts. Sometimes youtubers make fun of him until they meet him at vidcon and he's just the nicest guy.
  • Youngjae: Lets Player known for his really graphically violent threats at the game as well as his sneaky tactics and bad sportsmanship in online FPS'. Has not played a single other game since Overwatch came out. Sometimes sings as he plays to deal with his burning hatred for other gamers. Has a REALLY annoying LPer intro like "WHATS UP GUYS ITS YOUNGJAE AT IT AGAIN HAHA!!!". Has his own line of tshirts and assorted merchandise with his ugly af logo on it.
  • Jongup: Makes anime parodies or commentaries of pop culture movies and has a really fucking annoying fanbase that quote the same ancient meme for 300 years. Has a line of merchall based on said annoying memes. Sometimes plays games using the voice of the popular characters of the anime's hes parodied. Once bumped into Youngjae on Overwatch and they spammed the hello emotes at each other for the whole game.
  • Junhong: Sketch-comedy videos based on his #relatable life, all of them with over-the-top youtuber titles like "MY DOG NEARLY KILLED ME :O!!" "MY GIRLFRIEND BROKE UP WITH ME BECAUSE IM TOO TALL :(!!" "I NEARLY DIED DANCING TO EDD SHEERAN!!". He owns several low-quality wigs for re-occurring characters in his sketches. Has a really embarrassing story about the time he bumped into Himchan on the streets and made a fool of himself. Himchan commented on it. One time he parodied Yongguk in a video and Yongguk put it in his favourites playlist and Junhong has never recovered.
The Haunting of Braidwood Manor Soundtrack

Note: Some tracks are included @hollyashton’s descriptions.

1. A Chorus of Men’s Altos (x)

WARNING: Don’t play this at night unless you want to feel the real horror.

When The Haunting of Braidwood Manor was released, @hollyashton posted something about the music from the story (x). I wanted to give credits to her for posting a brief description of the music.

As the title frame loads, you’re hearing a chorus of altos (men?) which immediately sets the spooky mood. The same alto chorus plays when you enter the manor and look around. - @hollyashton‘s description.

2. Sinister Sounds (x)

WARNING: Don’t play this at night unless you want to feel the real horror.

This plays in a very terrifying situation or a suspenseful situation that gives you the chills. Alternatively:

When fire begins to appear in your room, and as you look around the haunted house, a quieter sound comes on accentuated by what sound like hushed whispers. I bet that’s just my mind playing tricks on me but it sounded like the wind or whispers. Creepy. - @hollyashton‘s description.

3. It Was Only A Bad Dream (x)

WARNING: Don’t play this at night unless you want to feel the real horror.

You woke up from your nightmares of Jonathan haunting you, your heart racing. It was only a bad dream.

4. The Music Box (x)

As you approach the house, the music becomes less daunting. It sounded like a music box to me, suggesting simpler, happier times. This same music plays when you encounter the tin soldiers. Does this suggest the innocence of the souls at Braidwood? They are mostly children after all. - @hollyashton‘s description.

5. Piano Melody of Braidwood Manor (x)

I love this soundtrack so much. It’s beautifully composed by the Pixelberry Team for this horror story and it’s quite relaxing too. By the way, this and “The Music Box” are considered as the “Normal Tone Music” in this story. They play when you’re with the children and Eleanor Waverley. Nothing spooky happens.

6. Hannah and Thomas’s Piano Duet (Snippet) (x)

This plays in Chapter 4 of The Haunting of Braidwood Manor, where you (canon name is Hannah) meets Thomas Waverley in the parlor. Thomas was seen playing a lovely melody on the piano. He hit a wrong note and you decided to join him, much to his dismay. Later, you two played the melody as a duet. Finally, you and Thomas bonded after playing the melody.

Total length: 0:04:25 (4 minutes 25 seconds)

Seer of Doom

Seer:knows/sees/understands aspect

Doom: inevitability, rules, death

so a Seer of Doom is “One who sees/understand/knows inevitability,rules, and death.

All seers will have some type of snarky humor. For this is a way seers cope with all they see good or bad.

A seers challenge is too be able to know what to do with this information and when to tell others about it.

 Seers of Doom will obviously be able to see things of the unchangeable and death, so these players need some humor and will most likely be pessimistic.

This title would most likely be a very challenging title for the player. Death is a serious and common matter in Sburb and Seers of Doom will be able to see a lot of it. A Seer of Doom would also most likely know the rules of the game, and of what to come of them.  Seers of Doom will try to have the team avoid any doom timelines. They will know what to do and how to avoid and when to avoid it, so they are a very helpful team member to have.

A good example would be a fully realized Seer of Doom who can take in this information and know what to do with it. A Seer of Doom can defiantly go Grimdark, it would make a lot of sense too, but this Seer of Doom would then need to get their head together and will learn what to do by themselves.

A bad example would be a Seer of Doom who would freak out about it and choose the wrong times on when to tell their teammates. This can result in a lot of chaos in the group and break it apart!  Seers of Doom may even break apart themselves and will sit there not knowing what to do.

As far as relationship status goes, They would probably be very busy with their job, but if they had a chance the relationship would all be based on the other persons personality, and their future.

A Seer of Doom would invert to Witch of Life

(This one seems a bit all over the place so if you’d like to point out some things to me you can tell me by using the ask box)

The crew didn’t dare touch Ray’s room. But there was a spare one next to it. And that’s where Jeremy sleeps. Well, at least attempts to. He swears to them he could hear an Xbox turning on and off at night. Or muffled sounds of a video game. And no one believed him. Until one night he records evidence; sounds from the computer in Ray’s room. “Let me out… Let me out!” playing over and over on a loop.

And Michael’s petrified. It’s Ray’s voice from an old prank video they recorded years ago when he and Gavin shut Ray in the closet of the old base.

The Lads want to perform a seance. Geoff want’s to move, right now immediately. Jack gets her way, and so they finally crack open their late friend’s room and begin packing his things. Nothing of Ray’s is to be left in the base.

Months go by until Jeremy is able to sleep peacefully again. And soon the crew forgets about the whole incident.

Until, that is, Gavin drops a quarter in the hallway and it rolls under the door into Ray’s room. And without thinking he busts into the room and is startled to see it completely empty. Completely, except for Ray’s purple Nintendo 64 sat upside-down in the corner of the room.

“Must'ved dropped it,” he thinks. And he reaches for it. But instead of taking it to Jack he’s lingering with the thought of bringing it to his room. His broke a long time ago, and Ray always kept things in working order.

So it sits in his room until the weekend when he’s free. He dusts it off and hooks it up with all his old wires. He clicks in Ocarina of Time, and bloody hell, it works!

But hold on, did Ray ever play Gavin’s game? There’s a profile in the load screen titled “Ray”, and he’s not going to lie, it’s a bit eerie. He wants to tell Michael, but what good would that do? He’ll just tell him to quit it and throw it out.

He enters the profile and it takes him to the naming screen. He hasn’t played for years, but he knows that’s not how it works. The cursor moves without Gavin touching the controller. And it types.

“HELP-ME”

this autumn, prepare to say “fangs fr th mmrs” as the sixteen candles gang prepare to face off against their biggest enemy yet: the mysterious william beckett and his gang of vampire dandies. who will win? will pete and bill’s angsty and slightly homoerotic backstory be expanded on? will we ever get a well deserved sequel? find out, october 2015.

Under His Wing

Third installment of the widely popular Castiel trilogy (well, trilogy so far) “At First Sight,” which consists of the imagines “At First Sight” and “You’re Growing On Me” in that order. If you haven’t already, you can read both of those imagines by clicking on their titles. Requested by loads upon LOADS of minions, and summarized as follows: “Castiel protects the reader during hunts by offering his wings as her shield. When he is injured, the reader works her own healing magic on his wounds.” Hope you like it!
(All past and future installments can be found on the “The Story Continues…” page)

That night had been a turning point in your relationship with the angel (how strange to think the words in relation to each other…), easing the blanket of awkward disconnection from around both your and Castiel’s shoulders without once being snagged on his wings. The tension in the bunker had all but dissolved to mist, as the strain Castiel endured while struggling to keep his anxious wings from cradling you had been banished. Your world was… shockingly simple, now that you could depart from rooms without hearing the angel sigh as his wings, which he had so rigidly held away from you, away from their natural inclination, unfurled to fill the room. Since that first night, you rarely went without contact with Castiel’s glorious wings… in a way, it was as if you were constantly holding the angel’s hands, only his fingers were feathers and they sang to you whenever your pulse thrummed against their quills. It wasn’t uncomfortable to have the masses trailing along your spine, but refreshing. There was no feeling to match the plumes on your skin, no divine relief that could combat the trilling in your ear. It was as if you had been hand-crafted to long for the sound.

You spent your every waking moment with the masses of light and song brushing against your skin, tender kisses Castiel stole without attracting the attention of the Winchester brothers, his eyes sparkling as his feathers swarmed around your face, ruffling your hair in the slightest breeze he could create. Your daily activities often consisted of Castiel’s wings disrupting your productivity in some subtle (to others, of course. To you, no action could go unnoticed) fashion, and when your eyes found the angel’s face, he would offer a playful smile, the edges of his lips tilting towards a smirk. These wordless communications alone should have alerted the brothers of the shift in your relationship, yet you continued to fly under their radar. It was a small miracle in itself that so perceptive a pair as Sam and Dean hadn’t yet calculated the shortening distance you held between the angel and yourself, yet Castiel could stand mere feet away from you, a wing enveloping your entire torso. His feathers trilled with the finest song you had ever been blessed enough to bear witness to, their unnaturally fine texture bristling gently against your cheekbones, your wrists, wrapping around your hands… your world was now fully swathed in soft silk facets, rainbows shattering against nearly every surface touched by the artificial light of the ages old lamps in the Men of Letters bunker. What was touched by this dull, passionless light was born anew from Castiel’s wings, his feather breathing true colour into the room, illuminating every last corner with a dim, kindred glow, furniture painted with hues your tongue couldn’t form a name to match. Surely, the Winchesters must have noticed by now. Castiel’s distance decreased by the inch with every new day until his body stood close enough to touch, had you extended a finger, his wings rising and falling around you with each breath he took. His feathers shimmered ever closer to you, yet the Winchesters remained adhered to their books of lore, unaware of the patterns of crystalline light painting their faces. You would diagnose them with blindness, had they refused to notice your dry hair in the middle of a thunderstorm. Castiel’s wings had acted as both umbrella and raincoat, Cas’ own hair lying flat from the torrential downpour, his wings fluttering to expel the water from among their feathers. Even specimens as courteous as the Winchester brothers couldn’t ignore the defiance of nature.

They knew. They just wouldn’t vocalize their knowledge.

Castiel’s caution had fled the bunker to be replaced by a new type of protection that could only be classified as adoration; his wings transformed from being chained back to hovering around your body as fluttering shields. The walls of light and feathers moved to protect you from harm during hunts, gravitating to match your every flinch, floating alongside you to mimic your every step, Castiel only seconds behind, his eyes burning holes into the back of your head as he dissected your movements. His wings curled around you with ease if ever a threat approached, preparing for the possible attack, Castiel’s body stitched to your hip whenever he believed you were in a great deal of danger, abandoning his distance to further guard you. The humming of his wings went eerily silent as he concentrated on your protection, his sapphire eyes glimmering to reflect the steely light his wings produced, the shrill sound they made when rubbing against each other a darker, terror-tainted noise that exhibited his emotions beyond his composed features. In regards to the possibility of losing you, he was agitated and afraid; just when you had begun to accept (and appreciate) your fate as his soul-mate, you could be torn from his arms. He safeguarded you like the Hope Diamond against jewel thieves, presenting the heavenly extension of his body as unlikely armour, though he could, and would, bleed when your armour was effective in terminating a bullet’s arc. They didn’t appear to be bullet-proof, and they certainly weren’t. His wings screamed in unadulterated agony, blood seeping through the feathers, staining the glorious, indescribable colour with a familiar crimson only you could see. He hid his pain alarmingly well, his face breaking for a split second into the shattered mask of searing pain before fazing back to the warrior’s stoicism that struck fear into the hearts of your enemies, his lust for their lives strengthened by the fact that they had threatened yours. Passion held hands with justice in his ocean eyes, his wings trembling from the pain and the fury that the attacks provoked. Thus was your newly-adopted way of hunting. You were not a fan of anything that caused Castiel harm, but his protective measures seemed as instinctual as they were premeditated.

After a particularly gruesome hunt, after the brothers had retired to their separate bedrooms, you found yourself sitting with Castiel on the library’s wooden floorboards, your legs crossed beneath you as you assessed the damages to his trembling feathers. His wings deflated around his shoulders, suctioning to every corner and disturbance in the room like an exhausted liquid, his blood flowing from various wounds he had accepted while protecting you from harm. You gingerly reached for the masses sprouting from his shoulder blades, the individual feather tips reaching to meet your touch magnetically, subconsciously, a reflex you were both obliged by nature to react to, as your fingers pressed against the wounds. Castiel’s face changed from the relaxed and practiced mask of self control to the crumpled face of an injured soldier, his fingers gripping tighter to your thigh as his wings shimmered a darker hue. His features contorted to reflect the dulling ache his wings carried, his eyes flashing to yours with a sorrowful, fatigued glow burning dimly behind his irises. In his state of disrepair, he didn’t possess the energy to heal himself… or perhaps he did, merely choosing to enjoy your touch and attention as you tended to his wounds in the human fashion. This portion of your relationship was as close to normal as you could manage, if you disregarded the presence of wings and the fact that most normal couples never had to stitch each other shut. You found yourself adhering bandages to his feathers, wrapping clusters in gauze, parting the quills to extend towards the flesh beneath, stroking over the impeccable shine each plume had harnessed from the lamps. As you moved, the angel beneath your fingertips shuddered, caught between contentment and injury, his features frozen in the dying phases of a healing grimace. As you worked, Castiel’s hands toyed with the laces of your boots, fiddling with the hemline of your jeans as you smeared antibiotics over the open wound, his breath hissing lowly through his teeth whenever the pads of your fingertips rushed over his battered feathers. You sighed, wiping the remaining cream on the thighs of your denim, Castiel’s wings shuddering in thanks, his jaw unclenching as he shot you another weary grin.

“Thank you, Y/n. I believe that should suffice,” he whispered, mindful of his volume with the Winchesters slumbering around the corner, his wings beating once to test the wounds, his face twitching just slightly as he did so. He was quick to conceal his discomfort around you. An angel thing.

“Next time, let me take the bullet, alright? I don’t enjoy patching you up,” you returned, your voice equally wary of the bunker’s thin doors. Castiel’s ocean eyes locked on yours, a tender smile gracing his lips as your hand trailed along his forearm to his shoulder, your knuckles brushing absentmindedly through the softer (if that was possible) down they found at the origin of his wings. He shook his head, his eyes closing briefly as he relished in the warmth of your touch, his defiance clear even in such a blissful moment.

“To do so would cause me unbearable pain. Your safety comes before my own, and will always come before my own. Y/n,” he paused, his palm pressing against the backside of your hand on his shoulder, his fingers twinging through yours as he brought your hands between your bodies. “I’m afraid my love for you is strong enough to negate thoughts of self-preservation when you could be in danger, makes it impossible to watch you risk your life. It rebels against my every instinct to stand aside and allow you to be hurt,” he concluded, his index finger calmly tracing what you had learned to be Enochian letters into your open palm. You smiled sadly, returning your attention to the battered masses, your mind wandering to the magic they possessed, torn as they were. Your eyes raked over the miracles hovering above you, tips occasionally brushing a stray hair from your cheek, lingering on your temple. The urge for the feathers to reach out for your skin was lessened some by Castiel’s contact; when he held your hand, the song was diluted. His wings could settle for a more human embrace without ripping themselves out at the roots to stroke your face. Castiel’s hand shifted to cover your kneecap, abandoning his invisible writing to press his palm against the exposed skin peeking from beneath tattered denim. A soft glow warmed against your knee as stolen sunbeams healed the slight sting of a shallow gash until the pain had dissipated completely. All that remained was the gentle heat of his touch.

“Mmm, thank you,” you breathed, Castiel beaming at your reaction. At one point, Castiel had taken to healing you without attracting attention to his intentions, as you would surely berate him for mending a scrape over the Hell his wings had seen, but you had moved beyond his secrecy, Nothing he did slipped under your radar anymore; the curve of his wings was a dead giveaway for any action he planned to take. Besides you assumed he appreciated your thanks over your complaints. He nodded his head, the wing that had managed to escape a casualty trailing along your spine, a delectable wave of security flooding your body as his feathers fluttered down your back. The scent of honey filtered through the air, a signature of Castiel’s aura, the aroma radiating from his chest as if he had doused himself in an unmistakable cologne. You inhaled deeply, attempting to be subtle, but the angel’s smile grew wider, his arms welcoming you to his embrace. You smiled, thoroughly content, as you crawled into his lap, his wings blocking out the expanse of the library, surrounding you completely in their shimmering cocoon, their airy melody tugging you away from reality and into a world completely your own. No composer, no matter the status or talent, would ever be able to replicate the lullaby that tempted your exhaustion now, the sweet tones that clung to your every heartstrings. Castiel’s canopy glimmered warmly, shattering pigment across the skin at his throat, which you pressed your lips against, your eyes opening to new colours. The angel blushed above you, the delicate glow deepening when you chuckled, his arms holding you closer to his body. You nuzzled your face into his shoulder, inhaling the intoxicating scent that clung to his very being, his lips pressing warmly to your forehead, returning your affections quite wonderfully. His hands snaked further around your back and beneath your knees, clutching you to his chest. You sighed, incandescently at peace. “Cas?” you mumbled, his wings shivering to acknowledge your voice, his face turning to bury his lips in your hair, his breath tickling against your scalp. “I love you too,” you mumbled, fading from your reality to a dream world that could never compete. His wings went silent with his shock, his chest expanding with his slow inhale, his radiant smile present even in the kiss he planted on the top of your head.

You slept beneath a canopy of colorful stars, your body held snugly in your angel’s arms.

Joe Sugg imagine || Break up ||

Anonymous said:
hi!! im in love with your writing, it’s so bloody good haha. I was wondering if you could write an imagine where the reader and joe had recently broken up & joe posts a video of him and his new ‘girlfriend’ and people link the reader to it though twitter and reader gets really upset but it ends up joe was only doing it to see if the reader still cared and stuff!! thanks, ily 💗💗 xx

- -

“What is going on?” You noticed your phones screen continued lighting up with Twitter notifications.

You’d gotten a lot of attention recently, you had been seeing Joe Sugg and almost four months but you two started to fight a lot about silly things and decided to end the relationship.

You were both upset about it, you had move out of the flat and into your own one bedroom smaller flat.

You both posted identical videos on your channels tilted; “Grown up stuff.” Which was you both explaining to your viewers you had decided to part ways, maybe not indefinitely but for the meantime you were going to be moving out and going different ways.

A lot of people were upset, you had been accepted very well into the community of ThatcherJoe even before you became a couple people shipped you hard core.

You opened your Twitter feed and went to your mentions people were freaking out;

Everyone was linking you to what seemed to be the same YouTube link. Making a face you pressed the link watching as it opened in YouTube.

Before the video or title loaded you could see Joe was the uploaded, the title finally appeared with the player.

'Meet my NEW girlfriend!’ Was the tilted, you felt like someone had slapped you in the same seeing a gorgeous woman sitting beside Joe on his bed and he was smiling brightly.

“Are you serious?” You whispered, you were broken up five minutes … More like two weeks and he had a new girlfriend?

You already felt hurt, unsure if you wanted to watch this video, you hesitatingly clicked on the play button and the video started.

You sat in silence for six minutes and fourty-four seconds watching as Joe bubbly and funny as usual introduced his viewers to his new girlfriend, the video ended with him kissing her cheek.

Following the end of the video you had gone through several emotions but anger and depression were the main two.

“I can’t believe he moved on so quickly,” you whispered, a piece of you wanted to make a mean comment on Twitter but you held back. You decided to post;

* (Y/Twitter/Name): Congratulations to @Joe_Sugg for finding another someone special! I hope she makes you happy! Truly and honestly. :) you deserve it. *

You still had eight characters left and debated on adding the hashtag; jackass or not… You didn’t in the end and sent the tweet…

… A week and two days had gone by, you were getting a lot of supportive comments and tweets from people who weren’t too pleased with Joe, a lot of people were saying some mean stuff about Joe and his new girlfriend but you tried ignoring them.

You weren’t going to be the cause of a public drama festival online, you just went about your business.

* Caspar 😎 Lee: are you coming to film today like we had planned? Joe isn’t here. *

You read the text message from Caspar.

* You: just putting my camera in my bag and going to catch the tube, I’ll be there in twenty. * you sent the message off, slipping your phone into your jeans front pocket.

Zipping your bag closed you grabbed your flat keys and left for the tube running just slightly behind…

… When you arrived at Jaspar house it was weird knocking, you had left your key the day you finished moving out.

The door unlocked and opened, but Caspar wasn’t standing there, Joe was.

You went to say something sexually inappropriate as you expected Caspar but your expression changed and tone became indifferent, “oh, hi.” You said.

“Hey.” Joe said lowly, you both awkwardly avoided each other’s gazes. “Is Caspar here?” You asked.

“He ran out really quick to grab something - did you wanna come in?” He asked as you noticed he was wearing the red hooded sweater you bought him and it killed you.

“That would be nice - it’s a little cold out.” You pointed out and he nodded stepping aside allowing you to walk in.

You couldn’t help but feel Caspar had lied to you in someway. “What are you guys uh, filming today?” Joe asked awkwardly.

“A Q&A for me and Caspar hasn’t told me exactly what he plans on filming.” You looked around the place.

“Oh, cool.” He nodded and the silence grew around you.

“You moved on quick.” - “you really didn’t care I got a new girlfriend?” You asked each other at the same time.

“Of course I cared! What did you want me to do? Post a video flipping out about it or start tweeting mean crap about you and her? That isn’t my style and you know it.” You shook your head.

“It hurt like fucking hell watching you be smily and bubbly with someone else, it made me hate this poor girl who did nothing to me except replace me.” You were looking at Joe.

“(y/n).” Joe said.

“I wanted to just slap you a little bit, sorry but I’m being honest - how could you just move on like that after I just moved out?” You whispered in sadnesses.

“I was trying to see if you did still care!” Joe said, “she isn’t my girlfriend! She’s one of Caspars friends, it was all a lie.” Joe spilled to you and you stared him down.

“What?” You said darkly.

“I love you, I couldn’t get over you the second you took your last box from this house I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” He stepped in front of you.

“You weren’t suppose to take it that well, I wanted you to storm over here,
Call me an idiot and tell me you loved me and we made a horrible mistake.” He said.

“I could still call you an idiot.” You admitted.

“Only if you promise to take me back? Forgive me for being an idiot and not trying to work things out better.” Joe asked you.

“I promise.” You held your pinky up, Joe extended his pinky, wrapping it around yours you shook making a promise.

“Come here my idiot.” You said softly and you pulled him close by his shirt and kissed him.

Yet another alexxphoenix42 fic list!

They are the ONLY person that Tumblr wont let me reblog.  I try and it says error. I don’t get it.  Anyway, follow them. They are awesome.

Virginlock Fic Recs

Halving Infinity by sophiahelix, 9 k, explicit. First season Autistic Sherlock. Sweet progress from platonic mates to lovers. Staying at a B & B for a wedding of John’s old friend, they take their odd relationship to the next level. Straight John & Virgin!lock. (Part of series - A Matter of Degrees)

The Very Unlikely Existence of a Flightless Bird in a Tuxedo by cwb, 8 k, explicit. This is magic. The author takes the very topical joke that Benny Cumberbatch can’t pronounce “penguins” correctly to save his life, and spins it into gold. A bomb at a zoo has Sherlock saying “pengwings” and “penglings” as fast as hail falling. This adorable mistake has John admitting his buried love for this man, and adorable first time, competent John and virginlock sex ensues. SO sweet. (Locked to AO3 users.)

Praise Me by testosterone_tea, 11 k, explicit. Virgin!lock. John realizes how much Sherlock is affected by praise, and he starts watching Sherlock closely after he praises him. Sherlock is sort of an inexperienced demi-sexual here, and they slide very slowly into a physical relationship. Adorable and sweet. Oh, my gay baby penguins!

Dr. John H. Watson, Sexual Surrogate by smurff, 21 k, explicit. Sherlock hires a sexual surrogate when the man becomes a suspect for several recent murders. Dr. John H Watson has no clue Sherlock is investigating him when he comes to see him for help with leaving his virginity behind. Professionalism is quickly left behind on both sides. Adorable and thumbs up!

How Do You Know? by LaurieRoar, 8 k, explicit. John takes a virgin!lock to bed when he asks Sherlock, how do you if you don’t like sex if you’ve never had it? Slightly awkward, bumbling first time “sex for science” turns steamy. Nice.

The Battle in the Palace by Avice, 6 k, explicit. Sherlock is having a battle in his mind palace between his logical intellect, and the new part that wants to celebrate all things John. When Sherlock simply announces his desire to have sex with John, thankfully good things come of it. Features Virginlock, and a sweet accommodating John. The two of them wait for NSY to catch up. OH THIS WAS SO CUTE! I loved this – fluffy and funny and wonderful!!!! (part 1 of “Love is Round the Corner” series)

Collections of Clues by ianavi, 8 k, explicit. Virginlock. Older John, younger Sherlock. Sherlock works in a library, and one of the patrons, an army veteran, has him stalking the man through the stacks and collecting clues. For some reason, he is simply fascinating. John has Sherlock home for dinner, making pasta, and making out on the couch. OH THIS IS SO SWEET.

Sherlock Gets Dirty by wendymarlowe, 3 k, explicit. Sherlock believes profanity is the refuge of a lesser mind. John tries to prove that profanity and precision both have their place. John talking dirty can get *anyone* going, even a “married to his work” detective …

Slow and Steady by SailorChibi, 7 k, explicit. One night after a case Sherlock and John have sex. Sherlock, who was a virgin, is not prepared for how messy and overwhelming sex can be. John shows him how to slow things down.

At the Heart of it All by SilentAuror, 19 k, explicit. John has been back at Baker Street for four months now and thinks it’s about time they had the Talk to see whether or not they could be more than friends. Sherlock has a lot of uncertainty about this concept for multiple reasons. Unabashed romance.

The Result of It All by magikspell, 4 k, explicit. John and Sherlock have sex for the first time. Virgin!Sherlock, understanding!John. Absolutely no plot whatsoever. Just overly-detailed porn.

Your Idea Of Fun by berlynn_wohl, 4 k, explicit. “Treasure this moment, because you may never hear me utter these words again: I’ve no idea what I’m doing.”

For Sleep by Gem_Gem, 7 k, explicit. “I want to sleep. For once, I want to sleep and I cannot do so because I…I…” Sherlock trailed off with a growl of frustration and pulled at his curls, flopping down onto his back. “I can’t! I just…can’t.”

For you, there’s only me by shock_blanket, 19 k, explicit. Sherlock realizes he has fallen in love with John, but believes he is unlovable. Cue lots of pining and jealousy on Sherlock’s part, followed by our favorite cuddly marksman making it all better. Because for Sherlock, there’s only John.

Corner the Market by sweetcupncakes, 4 k, explicit. John bites the vulnerable skin that maps over kidneys.  Sherlock moans and struggles, which seems like a worthwhile thing so John does it again. “You can want it.  You’re allowed to want it.”  John tells him. Sherlock closes his eyes and shakes his head in disagreement.

State of Flux by Atiki, 24 k, explicit. John’s marriage is over and he is finally back home (i.e. at Baker Street, where he belongs). Sherlock is awfully insecure and John is awfully hesitant, and they’re both awkward idiots, of course, but they figure it out. Many First Times happen.

5 Times Dr. John Watson Touched Sherlock’s Bum and the 1 Time He Asked Him To by brage, 13 k, explicit. 5+1 fic in which the title is the summary. Loads of minor medical issues that leave poor Sherlock a bit wumped with each chapter, but no worries, John is an excellent doctor.

anonymous asked:

hi, i really love your blog! after seeing it i wanted to make my own bullet journal but i don't know where to start, specially bc my handwriting... it's not very good haha i've seen some blogs and they put examples of banners and titles or drawings for the journals, could you do something like that? it would be very helpful

hi there :) having good writing is a plus, not a requirement! if you can read your handwriting, it’s good enough for a bullet journal. 

as far as banner and title examples, i have loads! before posting pictures of my journal, i frequently posted reference pages. here’s a list of them: 

good luck!

10

“In Horst Harnest’s view, humans must evolve in this period of transition into the new humans, and must first avoid repeating the follies of absolute democracy and the Earth Federation, owned by the noble ideas to manage society.

This is the ideology is the source of the future "cosmic aristocracy”. However in promoting reform when he realized that he did not have a distinguished pedigree. In order to achieve the reform goals, he wanted a “noble” title and loads of money to buy an old European aristocratic family home.

Although he did not reach the ideal, and died, two of his children inherited his legacy. They took over the management of the family Group, and lead it into the universal aristocracy. Although he died before seeing this dream through Harness’ family created a doctrine derived from cosmic universe aristocracy called the Cross Mission.

In addition to this, his daughter’s son Carozzo is marshlling trained fighting group called the Crossbone Vanguard, to ensure sufficient military strength to rise up. So far, they have completed the preparations, a hope in a human society to be established that never perishes, a ‘Cosmo Babylon.’“

from Gundam Fact File 54

Tweakscoffee is now Thecreekgame!

I’m getting farther into development, and thus a lot about the game is evolving and changing. Including the original plot- Tweek and his family will be working at “Tweak. Bros” rather than Harbucks, and the idea for the title “Tweak’s Coffee” has been scrapped due to how confusing that may be later on.

The game is now officially titled “At Peace with Pieces”

Partially because it’s unique, partially because I’m making fun of fractured but whole, and partially because it’s abbreviation could be PWP which I think is hillarious

Anyways! I’ll have a few more backgrounds and things to share with you all soon, and there’s a good chance I may spiffy up the title and load screens before I take a short break in March to finish my fanfiction.

Thanks for sticking with me, you guys!

in your hands: a levihan origins mix, arranged chronologically

listenart

neon sky rain - vector lovers | heroes - mika | where is home? (burial remix) - bloc party | blood makes noise - suzanne vega | requiem for a dream (andys ill dubfix) - clint mansell | bloodstain (ft. alice temple) - unkle | hella good - no doubt | of dust and nations - thrice | black black heart - david usher | not in love (ft. robert smith) - crystal castles | when things explode (ft. ian astbury) - unkle | the bitter end - placebo | the long haul - no | the load - barbarossa

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