AU The Fault In Our Stars where Hazel Grace succumbs to the cancer and dies and in the last scene all you see is Augustus standing out side with a cigarette between his lips and a hand slowly reaching up to light it.
HOW IS THIS ANY BETTER THAN THE ORIGINAL ENDING!!!!
This post ruined me.
THIS IS SO BEAUTIFUL AND I AM CRYING ALMOST WORSE THAN THE ACTUAL TFIOS ENDING BECAUSE THEY ARE BOTH BEAUTIFUL AND SAD AND I DONT WANT EITHER TO BE TRUE BUT THEY ARE AND EVEN THOUGH THIS ISN’T REAL IT IS STILL DEFINITELY NOT OKAY
So, last night, I attended for the first time the Penguin Teen Australia Live (hosted by penguinteenaus) event held at Hoyts cinemas in Melbourne. It. Was. AMAZING! The Penguin crew put on an amazing show (and Felicity was a fabulous speaker, also I wanted to steal her shirt) and I am so glad I made the trip to the city to be there.
From the word go they had a Bookworld table to purchase the Penguin titles discussed, there were The Fault in Our Stars feels everywhere (the feels!) and of course, what would a Penguin night be without Vampire Academy to talk about! Nick Wheeler aka Adrian (from the Bloodlines book trailers) aka A WALKING GOD OF A MAN was there *fangirl screams* and RICHELLE MEAD came to the party via recorded message for the upcoming Penguin Teen TV. It was beautiful.
There are also so many good titles still to be released for the year! Being a Mead fan, I have to admit that The Immortal Crown and Silver Shadows are definitely top of my list, but Afterworlds by Scott Westerfeld and Dangerous Creatures by Kami Garcia and Margaret Stohl are also going to have homes on my bookshelf when they are released.
In a nutshell, I just want to hop into my time machine and go back to last night. It was fun and fantastic, and I am totally in for any events in the future! Bring on PTALive2015, anyone?
"why didn’t you do your homework over the holidays?"
This is the best thing I’ve ever seen
Me on monday mornings at uni when the teachers ask if I’ve done the readings.. weekends are breaks too!!
We waited in silence, nine bodies lining the sides of the corridor. Legs tucked underneath those who were sitting on the carpet, a single solitary chair rested against a wall, a device for comfort but too far away for anyone to bother with. Most students sat with mobile phones perched on their laps on in their hands, thumbs moving rapidly over the keys honed form years of playing video games. Only two were not immersed in technology; both male, one devoured the words within his heavy textbook while the other sketched idly inside an opened notebook, the contents unknown to those surrounding him. No bell sounded the herald the closure of one class and the beginnings of another. This was not high school any longer. The stream of students exiting the nearby room, bustling with noise, were the only clue given that signified the passage of time. Standing and rousing themselves from their zombified catatonic state, they shuffled through the doorway, not a single word spoken.
She is twelve minutes precisely late. No apology is offered, and the lecturer continues without pause as she takes the first available seat, not noticing the awkward stares and glances towards her face.
It’s not that her features are unremarkable that draws their attention. In reality, her features are obscured by a clean, white medical mask that is the source of curiosity. Unconcerned, her notepad is taken out and the pen placed beside it.
Slowly, the room moves back into its Monday morning lull. Being the second last lecture before the start of summer holidays, there are notably less students than at the beginning of the semester. Those present are certainly within the room, but yawning as they fight the battle against sleep and dreams. Barely any notes are taken, and after about ten minutes the girl with the mask leans over and retrieves a bottle from her bag.
Lifting it up, a couple of students glance over again, perhaps wondering if she will remove the mask. Fingers reach up and flick one side off her face, she takes a small, tiny sip, replaces the cap of the bottle and replaces the mask.
being a capable writer:
having the urge to write:
having a list of fic ideas:
having new ideas get in the way of old ones:
not having the inspiration/motivation to write:
Conclusion; Jack Sparrow is my creative mind:
And when you write something amazing and you love it and you share it and it’s still amazing and people love it and you’ll never be able to do anything like it ever again and you’re just like
And in that moment I swear.. We were Captain Jack Sparrow
Why does the boy mark sections within his writing?
The squares are not of exact size, lines stretching and wobbling without precision.
The first square is around twelve lines down the page and half the length at the top.
The second is square and fits neatly into the right-top corner of the page.
Is there a method to the madness? The seemingly chaotic arrangement?
It seems unknown to anyone but him.
And I won’t ask.
For I too am writing against the lines, though my boxes are my margins.