#i had to do half of this on my phone so i couldnt use canva for some of the parts i wanted to so thats why its so low quality :/

[hewantshisbrideback]

THE LITTLE SISTERS — Character parallels between Queen Lucy Pevensie of Narnia and Princess Arya Stark of the North

Click for quality. Plain images.

[thetransguard-archive]

couldnt find the promt posts but: joenicky monster/supernatural au? i absolutely adore ur writing btw💕

you cannot hand me the word supernatural and not expect me to think of buzzfeed unsolved RGEHFBRWFHKJL im sorry this turned into a ghost hunter’s au i just don’t know how to write vampires or werewolves or whatever else constitutes supernatural

nicky does not believe in ghosts.

so why is he standing in front of a long-abandoned house, carrying several hundred dollars worth of largely useless equipment, wearing a shirt emblazoned with a big cartoon ghost? he tells himself it’s a favour being returned. his room mate, lykon, is endlessly more enthusiastic then he is, mumbling to himself as he fiddles with the camera that was paid with money that probably should’ve gone to rent.

“don’t look so worried nicky,” lykon says, as they step inside the threshold. his best friend flashes him a wide grin which is immediately contradicted by the alarming creak of the floorboard under his foot. “we’ve got holy water and everything else. we’ll just check to see if there are any ghoulies in here, they can’t hurt us.”

“you know i think this is a load of horseshit. i’m more worried about the house collapsing on our heads.”

“don’t be dramatic, dude. it’s in perfectly good shape.”

as they start setting up lights, laying out their sleeping bags for preparation of sleeping the night in this place, nicky is forced to admit there’s a sort of melancholy beauty to the place. it would have been a very nice house, once, not too ostentatious like the other houses they’ve “investigated”, with high ceilings and large windows, and stunning art covering the walls. landscapes, bowls of fruit, studies of fire and light and the night sky. but not a single person. nicky notices the same sprawling signature on all of the art, and steps closer to see if he can make out a name-

“nicky! let’s start recording.”

lykon begins unrolling the backstory of this house and the ghost allegedly haunting it, and nicky interjects throughout, punctuating the otherwise dead serious narrative with bursts of skepticism and humour, the way they’ve always done. lykon’s little ghost hunting channel is small now but getting bigger every day, and nicky can’t say he doesn’t enjoy it, verbally sparring with his best friend. lykon’s a believer and nicky isn’t, and while they’ll argue fiercely on camera they agree in pretty much every way off screen. apparently this house used to be home to an artist who’d been slowly making his way up in the art world before being murdered mysteriously. with no convictions, the story went that people were compelled to stay away from the house, wouldn’t be able to write without doodling, and smell fresh paint. also the standard doors opening and closing on their own, lights turning on and off, footsteps and the like. nicky was not exactly enthused to spend a night on the dusty floor, but hey. it beat sitting on the couch watching reruns of the same bland reality tv shows.

nicky’s halfway through a longwinded joke when lykon jolts like he’s been zapped, hand gripping nicky’s forearm, eyes darting around in sudden fear.

“what? dude, let go.” he elbows lykon in the ribs gently to get his attention back. “hello? what happened.”

“swear i heard a laugh, from upstairs, maybe,” he replies, face furrowed in concentration. he flashes a smile at the camera. “alright, i think we got all the background done. lets investigate.”

predictably, they find nothing. well, nothing of worth to nicky, but lykon insists that the room that used to be the studio feels colder then the rest of the house, they hear noises from inside the room once they leave it, and the spirit box spits up a few noises that lykon insists are words. a pretty standard investigation, then. they pack up their stuff and tuck in for the night. lykon spends half of it jumping at every little noise, but eventually drifts off as the exhaustion of the drive here finally gets to him. nicky turns over in his sleeping bag, hoping to salvage at least a few hours of rest from the night, but-

is that paint?

nicky breathes in as hard as he can, and it’s unmistakeable, that scent of chemicals that reminds him very vividly of the disaster that was year seven art class. he sits up, rubs his eyes. lykon doesn’t stir and nicky sniffs again. it’s still clear and strong, and now that his ear isnt pressed against the pillow, he can hear faint clattering, like the lid of a paint tin being wedged off. it’s coming from upstairs, where the artist’s studio would be, if he had to guess.

oh, fuck. 

there’s a perfectly rational explanation for this, he reasons to himself, even as he crawls out of the sleeping bag to cram on some shoes and get a torch and a camera. he should probably wake up lykon, but something inside him is telling him, wait, to just see for himself first. maybe we disturbed the paint when we were in there earlier. an old house like this, it’s probably just settling. hell, there’s probably raccoons in the roof, or something. ghosts aren’t real.

the studio is... not how they had left it. it had been such a sad space, everything covered up in white sheets, shelves of paints covered in dust. now, the room is strangely warm, like the summer sun had spent a few hours streaming in through windows that were now uncovered, the night visible through dusty panes of glasses. there is an easel set up, with an empty, clean canvas about the size of a dinner table on it. and on the floor, a thin, fine paintbrush rocks back and forth, like it had just been dropped.

this was entirely too much weirdness for nicky’s brain to handle, but he wasn’t giving up on his hard line stance on ghosts just yet. strangely enough, he doesn’t really feel afraid at all. 

“if this is a prank,” he says, deliberately loud in the empty room, as he bends to pick up the paintbrush. the tip of it is still wet, and the paint looks black on his fingertips. “if this is a joke, lykon, i swear-”

hi, nicky.

the words appear abruptly on the canvas, a rushed hand like whoever’s writing isn’t sure if they can keep it going. nicky almost drops the paintbrush he’s holding, but steps closer. the paint is still wet on the canvas, and it’s the same dark shade as the stuff on the brush. he shines his torch at it. it’s a very dark blue, not a black like he’d first assumed, the colour of a twilight sea.

“what the fuck,” he mumbles to himself, touching the canvas. it’s just fabric on wood. what the fuck.

did i scare you? i didn’t want to do that. 

"i’m not scared,” he says, feeling oddly giddy. “this is a very strange dream.”

i promise it’s not a dream. tah-dah! ghosts are real. i am one of them.

as whoever it is writes, they doodle around their letters with incredible skill, little birds and flowers and suns circling their words. it’s strangely endearing. the paint smell gets stronger and nicky finds that he does not mind.

“what’s your name?” he asks, remembering that he is technically a ghost investigator and he should probably be doing some investigation. his phone is left forgotten in his pocket, though. he doesn’t know if he should be recording this or not.

joe, joseph, but it’s yusuf, really. the art world of my time was not quite ready for a name like mine, but i suppose it doesn’t matter anymore.

“you’re the artist, then.”

who else would i be? as far as i can tell i am the first, last and only death of this house.

“you were murdered.”

yes, but can we not talk about that? it wasn’t a pleasant experience.

the last full stop of yusuf’s sentence is darker then normal, like he’s pressed harder. nicky touches a finger to the canvas.

“i’m sorry. i won’t bring it up again.”

thank you.

nicky takes a step back, the room is lightening around him. he hadn’t realised it earlier, but the windows of this room all face east, which is why he supposes yusuf chose it to be his studio. on some level, a part of him is wondering why he isn’t screaming and running to get lykon right now. he really isn’t afraid, though. yusuf hasn’t meant him any harm.

“why did you choose to talk to me? we were up here earlier.”

it’s harder when more alive people are in my room. you take up so much energy. the handwriting pauses, like yusuf is considering. and most people are so afraid. i’ve tried talking to others before, but they get so scared. you didn’t seem frightened at all.

“that’s because i didn’t believe in any of this stuff.” nicky presses a finger to yusuf’s words, just to check. his finger comes away dark blue. “part of me still think i’m dreaming, though.”

well, you can’t see reflections in dreams, i’ve heard. there’s a mirror behind you.

nicky turns to see a sheet drop off a large standing mirror in an ornate frame, and sure enough, he can see his face, a pale shape in the darkness of the room. he steps closer, and skids a finger over the glass, leaving a smear of paint behind. not a dream, then.

he feels a gust of air, warm, behind him and he turns. nothing but the canvas. when he turns back, that’s when he sees him.

he’s about the same height and build of nicky, standing just behind him and to the side. handsome, a full beard and a rueful smile and curls, and eyes that are the kindest nicky has ever seen. and the most startling thing- he is opaque. his head and shoulders are more or less solid, but his torso peters out into nothing at all.

“ghosts are real,” he says, to the spectre in the mirror, dumbfounded, and yusuf’s half-smile widens to a proper grin. he does a little wave in the mirror and something in nicky’s chest swells. he smiles back.

“your friend downstairs is waking up.” a breath, barely a whisper in his ear. and sure enough, noises from below. he can almost hear the sound of his name.

“i won’t tell him about you, if you don’t want me to,” he says, and yusuf shrugs, flickering.

“i don’t mind, but i'd rather you not. the more people come in here, the harder it is to... exist.” 

nicky can hear footsteps on the stairs now, and he blurts out, quickly, before this bizarre moment is over, before he is thrust back into the mundane of his normal life. “we’re leaving now. can i come back, sometime?” and the thing is, he really wants to, wants to know this strange, sad ghost with messy handwriting and beautiful art, and kind, kind eyes. he has so many questions. what’s it like, being a ghost? are you lonely in this house? and, why do you not have any paintings of people? yusuf meets his eyes in the mirror and smiles again.

“i’d like that.”

“nicky!” the door opens and nicky blinks, his hands dropping to his sides. lykon sweeps his gaze around the room looks at him with a raised eyebrow. the canvas, nicky is stunned to realise, is now as clean and blank as when he’d walked in.

“c’mon man, you know we’re not allowed to mess with this stuff.” lykon steps forwards and plucks the paintbrush out of his hand, the tip still wet with paint, and sets it on the easel. “you said it yourself, nothing in here now. we’ve gotta get going.”

“sì, of course. i was just... looking around. it’s a beautiful room.”

his room mate just gives him a look. “uh okay. whatever, man. let’s go.”

before nicky leaves, he picks the paintbrush back up again, tucks it into his pocket. says to the empty room, slowly filling with light and colour from the rising sun, “i’ll be back, yusuf, i promise.”

the faint ghost of laughter as he walks out feels, somehow, right.

[ivyuns]

after hours ❆ ✰

han jisung

genre: angst and fluff

word count: 1.6k

warnings: language + self harm

A/N: since you guys asked for it, heres part two of moral of the story (: repost

listen to after hours by the weeknd

part one | part two

masterlist

thought i almost died in my dream again.

right after you left changbin’s embrace to hop onto your plane back to korea, he was furious. he didnt even knew jisung was cheating on you. as a cousin, he went to yell at your ex lover.

“han fucking jisung.” changbin muttered out. the younger one lifted his eyes and saw his hyung. quickly wiping his tears and waits for changbin to continue speaking. “did i just witnessed y/n catching you cheating on her? are you serious jisung? after everything she done for you, for us, and you did this in return!?” changbin ran his fingers through his hair and let out a heavy sigh.

“i wont hurt you or anything, just at least talk to y/n and fix some things alright?” jisung immediately nodded as changbin left the room. jisung got up and changed into a casual outfit and met up with his manager to talk about some things.

without you, don't wanna sleep. cause my heart belongs to you.

after meeting up with his manager and convincing to continue the tour without him, he finally agreed. jisung dashes through the hallway, into his hotel room and gathers his stuff and gets his belongings then heads to the airport.

handing in his ticket and sitting in his seat in the plane, he pulls our your promise ring that you threw at him a few hours ago and remembers your pained face the moment you saw him cheat on you. the way the tears fell onto your cheeks. the way you wanted to hold back your tears but couldnt. jisung kicks the seat in front of him and starts bawling his eyes out, earning a groan from the elder who he kicked, immediately starting to apologize to the boomer.

wanting to fall asleep so time can pass by, only to have nightmares of you, taking your own life of his yet another stupid mistake. forcing himself to stay awake by looking back at all the memories you two shared.

baby where are you now when I need you most? i'd give it all just to hold you close.

after the plane has landed, he made his way out of the gate and hailed a cab and gave the driver the address of your apartment. few minutes pass by and jisung looks up and sees his destination. thanking the driver and giving them money and tip, he gets his stuff and unlocks your door. everything looked normal. you had to be here. quickly going to each room to see where you were, you were unseen.

memories start flooding in his mind and sees the first fight you two had. seeing your pale body on the bathroom floor. bunch of tubes connected to your body to regain the nutrients needed. he ran his hands through his hair and yelled, not caring about the neighbors. he needed to find you before his nightmare in the plane could actually happen.

i know it's all my fault, made you put down your guard.

he ran to the dorm, thankful you decided to live a few blocks away from them. taking out his keys to unlock the door and smells a familiar scent, knowing you came here recently. he goes to his room to see a box on his bed and the pictures hung up of you two hidden in his drawer.

seeing the note placed on the box made him feel even more worse. he let out another scream and pulled out his phone, seeing if you still share your location with him.

entering the passcode for his phone and opening his friends locator app. he searches for your name only to find only you can see his location. he threw his phone on the bed and fell on the ground. not knowing where you could be. who knows if youre in the streets all alone.

knowing if youre upsetting at something, jisung always knew you wouldnt have the appetite to eat and ruin your healthy life. even if you came back to korea a few hours ago, your body could make you sick, especially since you didnt eat anything before you left for japan.

i know i made you fall, they said you were wrong for me

remembering how you acted towards him after telling stays about your relationship with him made him guilty. he knew how insecure you felt since the beginning of high school. after the mean comments stays made about you, you felt everyone was coming at you and that you didnt deserve jisung.

until jisung stepped in and defended you. he brought in the light when you fell into the darkest time. even til before he cheated on you, whenever you would fall into a dark time, he would be your knight in shining armor and bring you back to light.

i lied to you, i lied to you, i lied to you. Can't hide the truth, I stayed with her in spite of you.

he knew he shouldnt had cheated on you. but something that jiseo gave him made him fall harder for her and started cheating behind your back. the times he cancelled the dates and plans was only to hang out with jiseo. with the excuses he used was just he needed to practice more or make a new song. all the lies he said to you. all the unsaid i love you.

you did some things that you regret, still ride for you. cause this house is not a home.

currently on the bridge you were sitting at, with the han river under your dangling legs and with park near the bridge, where you two met when you were a little kid. with a blade in your hand, you rolled up your over-sized button up flannel to reveal a fresh canvas to place the scars. each memory and tear that fell, you would cut into your flesh. you promised yourself you would never cut youself or try to harm you, but you felt weak and nobody was there to help.

jisung, who was running around trying to look at the places you would always go to relieve some stress or just for fun. remembering you would always go to the park next to the han river always made you feel so calm since it was the place you and him landed eyes on each other. running to the park, only to find nobody. looking up afar, he sees a figure. a very familiar figure. noticing the same flannel you would always wear.

making his way to the bridge, he hears the sobs which pains him. going up to you, he sees blood coming out of your fore arm. widening his eyes as he approaches you, he takes the blade and throws it in the river and hugs your trembling body.

“its okay y/n” he tries to make you calm. slowly sinking into the hug, relaxing. you then remember what happened. with your shaking body, you push jisung back to where he isnt hugging you anymore and falls on his side. “how can you say that as i caught you cheating on me?!” you yelled out, which you shouldnt have, making you see more than one jisung.

“y/n, let me explain!” due to lots of blood loss, you fainted. having jisung to press on your wounds and take you to the hospital. “please y/n, not again. please i cant lose you again.”

jisung waited in the waiting room with his elbows on his knees and bloody hands on his hand. as the doctor was walking towards him with papers in his hands, he stood up. “ah so jisung. y/n is fine but due to the lost of blood she lost which was almost half a gallon, she will be having blood transmitting to her body. you can go to her room now” jisung thanks the doctor as he pats jisungs back.

walking to your room, only to see you looking at the window. jisung grabs a chair and places it next to your bed. jisung grabs your hand and starts speaking.

“im sorry y/n. i-i shouldnt have cheated on you. if i didnt, we wouldnt have to be in this situation. i dont know why i did it in the first place but after seeing you hurt, it just made me feel so guilty. i didnt return you the love you gave me and seeing your pained face, i just felt my heart shatter. and after having to keep stray kids continuing their tour without me and coming back here to talk to you. just because i love you and i dont know what life ill be doing without you.”

you turn your head to see jisungs face full of regret of what he did in the hotel room. you smiled after hearing ‘i love you’ after months. “i love you too jisung”. he lifts up his head and sees you smile. he gets up and hugs you. “if you do this again jisung, i wont hesitate and break up with you.” and kiss jisung on his lips. he sits back down and grabs your left hand. “i believe you need to put this on again, sunshine.” and slides in the promise ring you threw at him.

and finally, he goes on his knees and pulls out the small black velvet box you found earlier. without jisung even asking, you immediately say yes. “baby i didnt even ask you” jisung laughs.

“i dont care, yes is my answer.”

jisung smiles and puts the engagement ring on your ring finger.

“thank you for this second chance baby”

sorry that i broke your heart, your heart. and I said, baby, i’ll treat you better than i did before, i'll hold you down and not let you go, this time i won't break your heart, your heart, no.

END <3

a repost since first try didnt show up in the tags but ty for reading

[mintbluerockets]

Whats up?

So last weekend I participated in my second year at the Art Walk down on Whyte Ave in Edmonton.

As is the way things go, there was a scorching heat wave during this weekend. Because, what is an outdoor celebration of art without heat stroke and possible skin cancer. Really.

Speaking of which, check out my awesome/weird sunburn.

It is literally just right there. And only there. The rest of my arm is perfectly fine. The rest of ME is perfectly fine (there might be a slight red spot on my upper back, but eh), its just this spot. How fucking obscure.

Because of my location I couldnt set up the tent I decided to invest in this year…. That was a great choice to make. So I know for next year to pick a better location. One that allows all day coverage provided by my brand new, never got to be used tent. P.S. If anyone would like to have me for an outdoor festival of any sort… I HAVE MY OWN TENT.

Slightly bitter, but moving on.

So the rules of the Art Walk are pretty simple. The majority of your display must be 80% originals, so not prints. Fair enough. Otherwise it would be print artists everywhere. So I had a rather large display…. Because I have a lot of canvas stuff. And I framed my other originals in order to properly display them.

After the first day I rotated my column of grid wall to be on the other side, so as to provide shade for me during the first half of the day. And then the grid wall on the table provided shade for the second half of the day. Not just a hat rack, my friend.

Unfortunately because a lot of stuff was originals, and also original pieces not fan art, the price points were higher and not as many people were willing to throw down the moneys on my weird stuff. Which I totally get. My fan art pieces sold almost instantly though.

I found out I could order pizza to my table on the Ave though. That was pretty rad. And I also found out that a lot of my new stuff scares people. Mostly kids. But still…. High five me.

Also one of the photographers of the Art Walk caught me working on some doodles. Which I thought was pretty nifty.

Its probably one of the best pictures I’ve ever seen of me working that wasn’t like a self timer thing from my phone.

I would have tried to dress up more in my usual style but it was FUCKING HOT. So I kept it comfy. Sloppy, but comfy. Kept the goggles though.

Anyway, I’m doing my best to get commissions done now that I have a bit of a break before I head out to Ganbatte Con in Saskatoon. I know I’ve fallen pretty far behind on those thanks to… life…

Honestly, it seems like when one issue has finally been dealt with, 6 more pop up… It’s gotten pretty overwhelming for me. But I’m doing my best to just… not feel like dying. Which is really all I can do. I’m hoping that if no new things pop up, I should be right as rain soon.

Anyway, the paint I was waiting for should be dry now, so I’m gonna get back to work. Hopefully I’ll see you guys in about a week at Ganbatte!

Ciao!

Art Walk 2017- Super Late Edition Whats up? So last weekend I participated in my second year at the Art Walk down on Whyte Ave in Edmonton.