#and he thought hed grown. that hed become something beautiful. do you GET IT

[candyskiez]

God the jonelias dynamic really is insane huh. What if you'd spent your entire life being blamed for things you didn't do. What if you'd spent your entire life very aware people didn't want you around, that you hurt people just by existing too close to them. You are constantly under the impression you're being judged or mocked or excluded. Everyone else is laughing at a joke and you have no idea what it is. So you sit away from everyone and you pretend you're smarter than them and they just don't get you, so you don't have to admit they just don't like you. Because you don't know how to be likable and you don't think you could be. So clearly they just don't understand what you're saying. Obviously.

And you're searching for answers, for safety, for some way to defend yourself against what could be anywhere. What could just catch you and steal you from yourself and ruin your life, again and again. And someone died in front of you, and you couldn't do anything. You can't shake being that small. That helpless. Sitting on the sidelines, not knowing how to do anything. You want, so badly, to be at the center where you can fix it. Where you won't be small and scared and always hurting. So you join the magnus institute and you meet a man who sees through you.

He treats you like you're special. Like you aren't some stupid, annoying know it all who fumbles through everything. Like you actually know what you're talking about. He takes you seriously. He's dismissive and cagey but he seems fascinated by what you have to say, seems to enjoy prodding you for thoughts. He seems to be interested in you. Really, truly interested in you. You love it. You've never impressed the authority figures in your life. You've never made them think you're special. You are beginning to realize you love feeling like you actually know what you're talking about.

And then he promotes you. You know you aren't qualified. You know your friend could do so much better. But he's so sure that you know what you're doing, he's so sure that you can do this, and that you're the only one who can, and it makes an awful selfish little part of you preen because deep down you want that. You know you shouldn't accept it. You know you absolutely cannot do this and everyone's going to find out, but you want so badly to be taken seriously, to stop being the punchline or the helpless little kid outside that damn door. So you take the promotion, and suddenly the knowledge of all the worst things in the world is at your fingertips. It feels wrong and ugly and it feels right. You don't know how to feel about it.

You learn more about him. He is not a good person. He would kill, willingly, if it meant he got what he want. He sees you terrified and crumbling and tries to put you together again. Like you're something precious. Praises you just for being alive. (How do you deal with that? You always seem to survive on accident. You always seem to survive at the cost of someone else. Yet he smiles at you, like you're incredible, like you deserved it. Like he's impressed with you. You think about it a lot, whenever you can't fall asleep.) He's either soft and professional or cruel and biting. You hate him more and more. He is the only person you have. You desperately wish he wasn't, and you go to him anyway. He could make all of it make sense if you just could push him. But you can't, and he doesn't. But he gives you this approving little nod whenever your humanity slips through your fingers. You think you hate him more every time. You think you hate yourself for being relieved he's not scared. For not blaming you. And then you hate him again for making you this.

And then he's gone. He turned you into something else. Something that nobody wants, that not even the kindest person can put up with, and then he just left you alone. You're starving and you're scared and he's gone and he could make it make sense. But he doesn't. And you think about it. Again and again. You think you hate him for leaving you. You used to wish you'd never see him again. You think there might be something wrong with you.

You finally see him again. He's proud of you. You hate him for it. You demand his guidance, his patience, his anything like you used to. He gives it so much easier than before. Because he's proud. Because you've earned it. Because you're ready. You think you hate him. There's something else, too. Something painful. Something twisted and desperate and born out of the urge to survive and nothing more. It isn't love, but it isn't not love either.

You escape. You're free. You open a statement.

And congratulations. You're special. He favored you. He was intrigued by you, adored you, shaped you with his own hands, all to ruin the world. He tells you it isn't your fault as he uses you to destroy the world. You were the joke the whole time. He used you, like you knew he would, and it was so much worse than it ever imagined. All that fascination, all that adoration, it was all- it wasn't even fake. It just was for the worst reason it possibly could've been. You hate him more than you ever have in that moment, as he praises you, as he's so so proud of you, as he tells you you'll get used to it. You hate him. You hate yourself so much more. You want him dead.

He does not hate you. He finds you as fascinating as he did before. He talks about you like you're a work of art. You might be sick. You think you almost wish he was a good person, that he was anyone else, so you could love it. You think a part of you does, sometimes. That dumb little part of you that never went away. That will always be that starving man that just wants to be taken seriously. You think you always wanted to be the center of attention. Maybe this is his twisted form of love, translated through layers of fears and wanting to hurt.

And even in his last moments, he doesn't hate you. He fears you. He is so very afraid. He doesn't want to die. He begs for his life. But his last words are just....good luck. That's all. Nothing more. The one person you hate more than anything. The one person you wish you never met. And he is the only person who looks at you and feels no anger, no blame, nothing at all. He looks at you stealing everything he's ever worked for, and just says "Good luck." The one person you hate more than anyone else, who ruined your life more than anyone else, and he is the only person who has never blamed you for anything. He is the only person who has ever forgiven you for every horrible, unjustifable thing you've done. He is the only person who looks at you at your worst, betraying everyone you have left, and understands. In some horrible, cruel way, he understands. He does not hate you. You don't know how you wanted him to react. But he's dead. He's gone. And you do not have time to feel about it until you wake up somewhere else.

They don't know yet another reason why you're so upset. They don't know that the only person who could ever truly forgive you, could ever truly understand why you did what you did, was the worst man you'd ever met. And you can never unknow that.

Which I mean. First off, gay. But second off how do you even begin to unpack that. Jesus christ.

[tf2-incorrect-quotes]

MY TF2 FURRY HEADCANONS 💥💥[LONG POST]

NOTE: PLEASE BEAR IN MIND THAT IN CANON THESE ARE A BUNCH OF GROWN MEN IN THE 60S AND NATURALLY THIS WILL HAVE SOME LEVEL OF OOC CONTENT. HOWEVER TRUST MY BEAUTIFUL MIND. I WILL GROW SOMETHING GOOD IN THIS GARDEN. THE DIFFERING COLORS ARE FOR LEGIBILITY AND NOT TO SHOW WHAT TEAM.

SOLDIER : soldier does not know what a furry is. he has a fursuit. he calls it his battle armor. its awful. it reeks. its handmade. possibly made using real fur. hes infamous at every con in the country. hes banned at the one in teufort. he uses his suit to blend in with the other con-attendees because he thinks they are actual, real anthropomorphic animals. he identifies heavily with his fursona and draws it frequently. PYRO : pyro SCOUT : hates them with a passion but if you ask him why he just says 'i dunno.. i just think its kinda weird'. probably out of some desperation for peer approval. but also at the same time itd be really funny if he just didnt care. pick your poison DEMO : demo is like "aye thats a wee bit odd" and then gets in an argument with scout about what his fursona would be because scout is like "with your halloween costumes i thought youd love being drawn as a hyena" (its a maned fox) and then he gives a long drunken (argument goes on for a long time) speech about why hed be . like. a cu-sith or something. ('those things aint even real' 'yes they fuckin are mate ive seen one with me own eye') . if he actually saw someone in a fursuit depending on sobriety and their sona he either wouldnt really care because people can have hobbies or he would start acting buddy buddy because he mistook it for the wulver HEAVY : heavy doesnt really care for that kinda stuff. doesnt see the point in wearing animal suits unless you are camoflaging among the bears in the siberian wilderness in order to get their meat without gaining the attention of the mother. pyro draws him a fursona once and hes like . mm. good. because bears are large and honorable creatures. SNIPER : sniper is a man who lives alone in a camper van whos job is sitting still all day. he would be a furry. see my vision boy. itd be some weird animal too like a reptile or something. he wouldnt be loud and proud about it. he dreams scout finds out in the way a bully finds out about the protagonists dark secret in a high school drama movie and then tells everyone else and then they kill him with hammers and he wakes up in a cold sweat. ENGINEER : engie doesnt bash it because hes glad folks have their hobbies and he can admire the creative skill and ability of the community. pyro draws him as a beaver sometimes (non anthropomorphic, just a beaver with a hardhat, goggles and overalls) and he doesnt mind and it starts becoming his favourite animal because of that. i dont think he'd ever really directly identify with the community though. probably calls them 'furbies' from time to time because he forgets the word. SPY : spy thinks theyre all degenerate freaks and is happy to loudly claim this. he has several incredibly expensive suits and attends cons frequently. hes been here for years. he tries to sneak around it and deny anything to do with them but the team Knows. they all know. MEDIC : i honestly didnt know for him. other mod suggested he has an awful flesh homunculus fursuit that lives and breathes on its own. you crawl inside and its sticky and wet and warm and pulses. doesnt even have anything to do with the subculture.

[biderboy]

angel, why me? / jegulus

a/n: i’m so sorry this is horrifying it’s a mess

word count : 3136

warnings : indication of abuse/violence , indication of sex, cheating

you tell your side of the story like, i can't read in between the lines, and pick out every lie. 

james touched his left ear when he lied, it was something regulus had picked up on when they were young. when all the lies james ever told where small, non lethal. when he’d tell sirius he had detention, when he was really meeting regulus at the astronomy tower. when he told his professors he had no idea who painted the slytherin common room red and gold. 

he had that habit his whole life, regulus figured out, one morning over coffee with Euphemia, even when he was just a child. “he has never grown out of it” she said, sipping her coffee. “i reckon he never will.” 

she was right, even at 20, james still fiddled with his left ear, telling tales of highschool to his new friends, ones who weren’t aware of the entire other world they lived amongst. friends he had to lie to, had to tell he was on the football team, or how he learned to drive at 16, when he still couldn't manage to at 20. 

and james’ hand was right next to his left ear now, spilling beautiful lies to regulus own ears. his smile bright and trustworthy as he recalled spending the night with peter and remus, how they had stayed in, watched some muggle movie james told him about a few weeks ago. 

he was telling regulus he was ridiculous, thinking he had been out on a night like last, how he had plans for weeks. he fiddled with his ear as he told regulus there was no reason for him to believe barty when he told him he saw james with lily evans last night. 

he had sounded so sincere, so full of confidence. but his hand was on his ear, and reglus knew that was the moment his heart broke. 

what i really wanna know, what made you a hero

the fight after that had been horrifying, the words were ripped from throats, the pain seeped deep into open wounds that will never close again. they were biting and clawing at each others souls in hopes that breaking a bit more would make them fit back together again. 

but james was always strong willed, he had a hero complex, he could fix things. he was good, he would fix what was broken, he would make it right. but in his eyes, regulus was what was broken, and he didn’t believe he was the one who broke him. 

“just let me help regulus, just let me fix this” he screamed, hands shaking and breath unsteady.

“youre the one who ruined it james.” 

how james thought he had the right to try and fix him, try to heal him, when regulus wasn’t broken, when regulus was trying so hard to get him to see that they're whats broken, was beyond him. but james was never one to listen, was never one to admit when he wasnt able to help. 

the fight went on for hours, till voices were sore, eyes were red, and they were left more lost than they were when they started. too similar to a story of a broken hero.

when did you become an angel, when’d you grow a pair of wings

regulus could still remember the first time he felt his heart flutter around james, could still remember the smile that grew across his face, the unfamiliar feeling of something he never had the privilege of doing. 

he could remember how it felt, truly seeing him for the first time, its as if he took a breath for the very first time. as if his soul was finally letting light in, after years of being dusty and dim. he could feel in his every being that the boy in front of him, with curly hair and a dimpled smile, the boy whose hands were a bit too big and whose eyes held shades of golden, was an angel.

it didn’t take him long to fall in love, he was young and james had the prettiest laugh hed ever heard. james, who listened to him when he spoke. who held his hand with no ounce of shame, who kissed him softly and loved him gently for the first time in his life. 

he could remember it all, the first kiss, the first time james wiped his tears and traced his freckles, the first time they ran from their responsibilities, the first time they hid, the first time they lied. 

he couldn't remember when it broke. 

he couldn't remember when james wings had turned from snow white to dark, dim black. 

he couldn't remember when the halo above his head slowly broke, couldn’t remember when his soul no longer shone golden, when his eyes no longer held the love they once did. 

he could remember when james was an angel, he couldn’t remember when he forgot the devil was an angel too.

tell me where'd you get the privilege of forgetting everything 

james didn’t look at him like he used to. when they were younger, full of life and ready to tear the world apart for one another,

james didn’t press his fingertips against his eyelids anymore, didn’t kiss the freckles dusted over his nose. he didn’t smile shyly when telling regulus he was pretty, didn’t run his hands over his ribs when he went to hug him. james no longer linked their ankles together as they slept, nor did he whisper stories about the stars when no one else was listening. 

james never held regulus hand anymore, not the way they did on late nights, rushing down the corridors, smiling into each others necks and laughing far too loud for the dead of night, 

he didn’t pick flowers just to lay them in regulus’ hair, when they were 17 and too in love for the war around them, barely able to keep the happiness from seeping out of their lungs as they sat and watched the sun rise.

james didn’t ask for his hand anymore, like he did when they moved in, when they didn’t have a couch or plates, only an old record machine regulus stole from home, and far too many muggle records. when all they needed was each other as they spun around for hours on simply the sound of their own heartbeats. 

james used to look at him like the angels crafted him themselves, used to have such light in his eyes, as if regulus was the sole reason he was breathing and feeling on his own, as if there was nothing he could love more in the world.

he doesn’t look at him like that anymore. 

as if james had forgotten who they used to be, who they are still supposed to be. james looked at him like he was a stranger living in the body of a boy he used to know.

the promises you broke and burned

under the eyes of the stars that would never utter a word to another soul, promises were once made, in the depth of night, in empty hallways, under covers, standing pressed against windows or laying across overgrown grass.

the first promise, too young to think of what was said, sad eyes meeting truthful ones. james had held his hand out, a smile on his face.

“i promise to be your friend forever.”

two years later, when regulus was broken and bruised, left with nothing more than he could carry in his hands. shaking, wondering if anything was truly worth what people said it was. james was there. 

a cup of tea, a blanket he claimed he never stole, and a smile too bright for the 14 year old boy infront of him. 

“it’ll be okay reggie, i promise.”

when sirius had left, and regulus was alone in a manor that had never been home. when every curse thrown his way held pain he could no longer handle, when his bones were weak and his soul ached for something he no longer thought he deserved. 

when he was too young to feel that way, but too old to cry in his mothers arms and ask for forgiveness. when he lost faith in the people he had once called family, when he was truly alone. 

 “you’ll never be alone again, i swear.”

when james kissed him under the dark clouds, in a muggle town far away enough from the world they lived in to be cautious. when he held his hand with no care, when he smiled and pulled him through cafes and stores, telling tales of love and light.

when he pushed a paper ring on his finger, softly twirling him under the moonlit alley, pressing kisses to anywhere he could, basking in the simple existence of his lover. 

when regulus laughed like a child, when he let himself be spun and loved in all the right ways. when he was too in love to think of anything else. when he kissed james back, again and again and again until they sun was starting to come up and the town was waking up.

“i’ll love you until the last star in the sky disappears.”

somedays i think you convinced yourself, that i'm the one that's in need of help, its like youre self compelled 

some fights were harder than the others, when the clock kept ticking and the sun was already down, and the neighbors were already asleep. 

the fights when their voices were no louder than a whisper, when there was no lingering, no pain, just the tired sighs and the shaking hands. 

the fights where james would never admit he was wrong, when he would point a finger and hope it landed on anyone but himself, when he took to telling regulus he was done, he was over it. 

the nights where james would leave the house too late for the roads to be blocked, too late for sirius to allow him inside, but having an extra key anyways. the nights regulus couldn’t look himself in the mirror because for the life of him, he couldn’t even miss his lover despite him not being there. 

the mornings after when james would come home, gentle words and gentle hands, as if one wrong move would break regulus anymore than he did the night before. 

when james would pretend he hadn't spent the night crying, when he would say he was fine and his hands were shaking as he dropped the plate onto the floor. when he couldn't look regulus in the eye, but pushed himself into his arms to seek comfort anyways, 

the fights where james acted like he never got hurt, but was always the one left feeling more than regulus ever thought he could.

but we both know that that isn't true, that i would never betray you 

the first time they broke was when regulus was 18, and james was holding onto his wrist, yelling accusations at him like he was the same level of filth as his parents were.

when sirius and remus were just across the hall, pretending they didn’t hear their best friend breaking, or their little brother begging him to listen. 

regulus had never felt more numb than he had in that moment, had never felt his heart stop in the way it did that day. 

when james eyes were full of tears, and hatred. A look he had never seen directed at him before. 

when the pain in his wrist became unbearable, when the lies that spilled off james tongue where too much to listen to.

when regulus ripped himself from his loves grip, when he pulled his own sleeve up, throat raw and eyes red from the tears leaking onto his cheeks. screaming back at james face, pointing to the blank skin on both his arms, letting the truth seep into his lovers head.

“i would never betray you.”

but the damage was done, james having believed he could, believed he would. james had thought, and believed that regulus would give up his life, his love, to become the same thing he feared. 

You did this all yourself 

regulus figured it was his own fault. 

falling in love had always been warned as a weakness, as a threat. something that would end up hurting you, no matter how tightly you held on, no matter how hard you tried. 

he saw the first crack, he felt the pain of each fight, of every empty glance. he knew the concerned looks sirius sent him when james wasn't looking, he heard the words remus whispered in his ears as he broke down again and again.

but he held on, he fought. he loved james and he wasnt going to let a crack, or simple pain, take that away from him. he loved james, it was engraved in his very being. who was he, if he didnt love james potter? he didn’t want to find out, he refused to let himself.

so he stayed.

even when his heart felt like it was no longer there, even when james lied while looking in his eyes. even when james no longer kissed him like he once did. despite the soul crushing and earth shattering realization of james maybe not loving him anymore.

regulus stayed.

he had no one else to blame for it, he could have seen it from a mile away, should have. 

could you please enlighten me, what is this truth you see, and does it involve the part where you ruined love for me 

james saw it before him.

james had wanted to be let go, he had wanted something else, he had fallen out of love long before regulus saw it in his eyes. 

regulus didn’t get it, he thought they were fine, he thought they were okay. he didn’t see whatever it was james saw, months before he did something about it.

he wished he did, wished that james would have talked to him, wish he could have done something, anything. wished he knew if it was because of who he was, or who he used to be. 

wish james told him before falling in love with someone else. 

before james ripped his heart out with his bare hands, and watched as it fell to the floor. before james took what little light he gave regulus’ soul, and burned it out. 

wished he would have seen it before.

before he let himself believe love was good, before he let his hands be held and his veins filled with gold. before he completely engrossed himself with the feeling of loving and being loved in return. 

before, when he still believed love to be hurtful and morbid, wished he let himself continue to think that.

don't you dare forget all the things you did, all the memories we had to miss 

regulus was 20. 

when they had fallen in love, he was 16. four years of promises and plans, of love learned and given and cherished. 

years of love ahead of them, the same love that was written in every letter james’ parents ever wrote to each other. the same love in his mothers cooking, and his fathers garden. the same love they tried so desperately to show regulus was real. 

the kind of love written in the universe, when two souls were meant to spend time and energy on each other because they were simply made from the same star. 

regulus and james had that.

they had years ahead of them, ones that were supposed to be filled with children's laughter and the smell of the sea right on their noses.

they had talked about it, when they were younger, and star crossed souls filled with promises. 

had planned of a house, not too big, just like the one james had grown up in. one by the seaside, where regulus could take their son swimming and where james could teach him the stars. 

had planned to bring his parents out there, to show them they learned to love too. show them the handmade recipe book they started when they were 17. the pictures and stories they've collected along the way, gently displayed in their home in ways regulus never had been able to.

had planned of a dog, one the kids could run and play with, one that could go on hikes with remus and mess up the kitchen with james.

they talked of vacations and family, of owning their own coffee shop, of bringing love to all the people who couldn't get it anywhere else. 

they had a future, they had earned it, they had loved for it. 

threw it all away just for a kiss

when he kissed her, his eyes were closed. 

there was a smile on his face too, barty had told him. it wasn't just a peck, or something regulus could consider a drunken mistake.

it was something james enjoyed, it was something he wanted. something he longed for. something he used to ache to have with regulus. 

a kiss, a real one. again and again, until he was grabbing her wrist and pulling her up the stairs. until hours later, when the sun rose and he snuck out, with ruffled hair and a blissed look on his face. 

until he came home, and changed his clothes. until regulus woke up and smiled, until he went to kiss his own lover and couldn’t.

if it was just a kiss, maybe regulus would have ignored that too. 

but it wasn't just a kiss, and they both knew it. 

tell me was it worth it? 

james no longer lied to him. 

his eyes weren’t empty, but they were not filled with love. they were dim, guilt ridden, broken. 

his boxes were packed, pressed against the far wall of the dining room. his hands no longer shook when he went to bed, his throat was no longer sore, they never yelled anymore. they were tired.

in just a night, years of loving and being loved were broken and stored away. 

regulus did not want to think of his lover anymore, but it still hurt too much to ignore. because even with james no longer sleeping next to him, even with his years of love no longer on the walls. he was still there.

the house was still full of him, his heart was still aching, his soul still searching for its other half. he wonders often if james felt that too, wonders if he hurts as much as regulus does when he wakes up.

“was it worth it?” he whispered once, and james took a shaky breath. 

“no.”

but what is broken is broken, and the devil is a pretty liar. 

angel, can you tell me just one thing? why me?

[theresa-nam-nam-me]

| hybrid seokjin | true love

Masterlist

Requested?: yes

Sugar glider Hybrid jin x reader

Summary → owners and their hybrids, a magical story of the two falling in love at first sight but jin knew better then anyone that this wasn't the case. Meeting you though, was nothing but a pure miracle.

Warnings: none

"Y/n!" Your friend shouted for you "yes misa?" You said trying to swallow your salad "I and jisoo are going to Italy next week" she said excitedly showing you her plane tickets. "That's great!" You smiled "and i, kind of need a favor" she dragged her words "i was wondering if you could look after jin for a few days, while I'm in Italy." You had forgotten she had that sugar glider hybrid she hadn't talk about him much "you aren't bringing him along with you?" You asked confused "uh, no i don't want him to ruin the mood, so will you please!" She begged clasping her hands together. You knew he was a hybrid but he was also a grown man, couldn't he take care of himself? "Fine" you sighed

The week passed too quickly and now you were standing outside misas door with a small suitcase in hand. "Y/n! Come in" she gestured you inside. "Good evening misa" you greeted, looking forward was rather a tall hybrid with small ears, a long tail that match the soft brown of his hair, and plump red lips. "Good evening jin" you smiled taking off your coat "good evening Miss. L/n," he said "oh please call me y/n" he smiled and nodded "ill show you to your room," misa said dragging you alongside her. "Here you go" she opened the door. The room was just a plane guest room with a bed, small tv, and a few plants.

"Well ill see you in a few days, take care!" Misa waved to you before sprinting out the door. After unpacking your things you left your room and a great creamy smell hit you. You followed it into the kitchen seeing jin make an alfredo sauce. "What is that?" You asked "oh, it's nokey" (Italian dish) "it smells amazing" you complemented making him smile "thank you, would you like some?" He asked, you nodded your head happily. Seokjin placed the bowls on the table and pulled out a seat for you. "Thank you jin" you said before sitting down.

Jin picked up his fork blowing away the steam making his cheeks puff up. "Do you like it?" He asked, tail slightly swinging behind him "yes, it's delicious" you said stuffing your face with more "I thought I'd be making dinner for you though" you commented. He could clearly cook very well without issue so you didn't see why he needed to be babysat. After dinner you decided to take a shower before bed. getting out you wrapped a towel around you, when you opened the door you were met with jins now flustered face “oj jin, can i help you?” you questioned, he shook his head “i was wondering if you would like to watch a movie” he asked “sorry jin maybe tomorrow, i'm really tired right now”

you felt bad seeing jins smile drop and silently moving out of the way “goodnight jin” you smiled making his small ears perk up again “goodnight y/n'' it took you a few minutes to adjust but you slowly started to drift off with heavy eyelids and the sounds of rain hitting the roof. you were barely coneses when you felt the other side of the bed dip. “hello” you grumbled out looking through halfly opened lids. “sorry i just don't like storms...may i stay here” you nodded not thinking much of it until you felt him cuddle into you. his head hid in your neck, you let out a soft sigh before combing your hands through his hair.

The sun shines through the window and you hid under the cover but the sudden smell of pancakes slowly pulled you out of bed leading you to the kitchen “Jin?” You called seeing him flip pancakes over the stove “good morning y/n” he greeted you “please take a seat in almost done with breakfast” you nodded seating yourself at the table watching him flip a few more pancakes before placing them on a plate and setting it in front of you. “ thank you seokjin” he smiled before digging into his plate. You whipped you mouth with a cloth before picking up your plate and washing it “would you like to watch a movie today before I go?”

“Yes, do you like Avengers?” he asked. You nodded after seokjin finished his plate he quickly washed up before sitting on the soft Couch turning on the tv. “Sit with me” he pulled you next to him as you held a bowl of popcorn. You had seen the movie plenty of times before so it was no surprise when you started drifting off to a soft nap and slowly leaning against seokjins shoulder. “Im back!” a loud voice interrupted your peaceful slumber making you flinch away from jin as if being caught doing something wrong. You quickly regained yourself standing up straight “misa! How was your trip?” you asked moving into a hug “amazing, you should have seen it, such a beautiful country!” she smiled greatly. “How was jin?” she asked looking over at him, her voice toning down from her energetic energy. “Oh, he's fine, he is a grown man after all” she only mumbled an “i guess” to your comment before changing the subject.

After a few more minutes of catching up, you packed your stuff and headed to the door “y/n” jins voice called behind you, when you turned your head jin held out his hands holding out a small box, you gentle took it from his hold “what is it?” you asked “some homemade chocolates...a thank you for visiting” he smiled “thank you jin” he nodded opening the door for you. “Goodbye jin” you waved goodbye to each other.

His smile feel as he closed behind you, he felt his heart suddenly ache as he walked deeper into the house. “Can y/n come for dinner?” Jin asked sering misa started to unpack, she just shot him a glare to leave her alone. That evening when dinner rolled around he sat in silence as misa stared at her phone paying no mind to him,you seemed to have plagued jins mind, he missed your conpany at the table and recalled the conversation you had together. He began to realize how lonely he truly was and how you weren't just in his head but filled his heart with a warm sensation.

That night he felt himself twisting and turning in bed, he was unable to sleep. The previous night cuddled up to you felt like such bliss that tonight couldn't satisfy him. He reluctantly threw his covers off and touched his feet to cold hardwood floors. He tiptoed into the living room seeing misa to occupied with what was on tv to notice him slipping by. He made his way to the door, slowly turning the nob before slipping out. He followed the smell of rosemary and soon ended up in front of a small apartment door. He honestly hadn't thought what hed do when he got to this stage but he knew it was to late to turn back now.

He slowly rose his hand knocking it against the door. “Hello” you peaked your head out from behind the door in your PJs and messy hair. “Hi y/n” jin greeted “oh seokjin, it's late is misa here?” you asked confusion. “No it's just me, I just wanted to see you and maybe stay a while,” he said awkwardly, not wanting to jump on you with the idea of mates just yet. “Uh sure,” you opened up the door making way for him. “What brings you here?” you asked closing the door “i thought we could hang out” you raised a brow looking up at the clock, “at 1 am?” he nodded his head. “We could finish our movie” he smiled hoping to lighten the mood. You nodded your head before making your way to the couch together.

-time skip (the next morning)-

The sun shined in between the curtains, you pushed your blanket of touching your feet to the cold hardwood before making your way into the kitchen. You could see jins sleeping figure on the couch, he stayed the night after falling asleep during the movie. You turned around to make breakfast. “Y/n?” seokjins mumbly voiced called out. “Good morning jin, I'm making breakfast if you'd like to take a seat” jin stood from the couch making his way to the dining room padding down his messy hair. You set his plate down in front of him and began to eat. “You never told me why you came over last night” jin nearly choked at your comment. “Oh well, you see there's this thing called a mate and-” the doorbell rang cutting off jins sentence.

You opened the door to see misa with a very unpleasant look on her face “misa you must be looking for jin-” you were loudly cut of by her yelling “so he is here!” she pushed past you “who gave you permission to leave last night?!” she screamed at him “it's really no big deal misa” you tried to rationalize. “I wanted to see y/n but you wouldn't listen!” jin yelled back slamming his hand on the table. “And this is the type of stunt you pull! You can't listen to you lucky if you ever see her again!” misa spat balling her first “You can't! Y/ns my mate!” he screamed out. There was a moment of f silence before misa gave a huff and snatched jin by the collar of his shirt in an attempt to drag him out the house. jin harshly pulled back riping his shirt. “Im staying with y/n!”he screamed pulling you in front of him.

“Please y/n will you keep me?” his eyes turned puppy looking at you. “But mias your owner not me” he sighed “but your my mate, like a soulmate!” he begged “i-i don't know jin misa can provide better-” “i don't care I want you y/n!” he said nudgeing his head into your shoulder. You looked back at misa who gave you a nasty glare but then back at jin who could break into tears at any moment “ill keep him” you said. Misas eyes widened before returning to a glare “fine!! but don't even think of coming back to get your stuff!” she yelled walking out slamming the door behind her.

Your mind was blank at what had just happened but you were brought back to reality by jin snuggling his face into your neck. “Thank you y/n this is all I've ever wanted” a sense of relief washed over you as you wrapped your arms around him, you didn't know what could become of this but you are willing to accept whatever it may be.

[scandeniall]

falling in love | atsumu m.

pairing: atsumu x reader

warnings: few curse words. Yk the usual; aged up/post time skip

alternatively; what its like falling and being in love with atsumu

thank u all for the thoughts on the sakusa version. figured i’d give another boy a try and am considering making this a series 

Falling in love with Atsumu feels like being on a roller coaster. There are so many ups and downs but you never want to get off. Falling in love with him requires time but once you do its the most amazing thing in the world. 

Its meeting at Onigiri Miya after he’s had a long and rough day at practice and you two order the same meal. The order is called off and in a haze of exhaustion he thinks its his grabbing the bag almost immediately bumping into you and dropping the bag. Hes so so tired and so so hungry that he nearly tears up before mumbling a series of expletives, not even processing any of the spew of apologies you shoot at him. Even worse when he finds out it wasn’t even his order he dropped, because so much for a free meal. He’s in shock when you decline him buying you a new one because he “looks ready to drop dead at any moment.” He barely processes the way Osamu comes out both annoyed at the mess and amused at his frozen twin before telling you a replacement was on the house and forcing Atsumu to go nap in the back for a little because driving home. 

Its how after that night, he’d started seeing you more and more at the shop, very brief conversations here and there leading up to him asking for your number since “ya seem to come here as much as me.” At some point he found out that its because its your roommate’s favorite spot and picking up dinner is on your way home (not that you've ever mentioned that you’d gotten to enjoy the view of both the cook and his brother.)

Its the friendship you develop with his twin and fit right in with their friends. In some whirlwind of conversation you expressed concern for him (as a stranger) to where his brother said it wasn’t unusual for him to come in, half dead, eat and sleep off some of his exhaustion before heading home. It wasn’t all the time, but often enough. However, accidentally stealing someone else's food was a new one for him. You jokingly called Atsumu sleeping beauty, which was the start of it. The two of you frequently teamed up against the twin, to tease at him and no matter how much Atsumu claimed to hate it and he wishes you two despised each other, he cant hide the smile that tugs at him. 

Its the moments like the one when you met where you end up picking him from practice, catching a ride to the gym because he's so so tired and wants nothing more than to stuff his face and sleep for days. Just months into your friendship he’s trusting you with his car, because you seem that dependable. The praises of you being a good friend as his hand lingers against yours after passing the keys over to you. The way he looks slumped against the cars window has something stirring inside of you. You take a picture for blackmail later and to reinforce how much better he is when hes not talking. 

Its how he sits on your couch eating all your snacks while he shit talks all the guys that appear on your tinder. Calls some of them jobless losers, and its the frist time he admits that he thinks you're hot. “Yer too hot for that guy”, while swiping left on all of them (even the ones you would’ve gone right for.) The way you retort confirming that he thinks you’re hot has him speechless and stuttering, insisting that he didnt mean it like that, yet can’t explain how he meant it. 

The times you bicker and he suddenly becomes the worst friend you have. The time you two had stopped talking for like a month, mad over something you’d forgotten a week later. Yet, all you knew is that you were supposed to be mad. He could “go to hell” and you were “so fucking annoying.” Over the course of your friendship he’d made it a habit of taking things from you; your favorite mug because he still had a drink in it when it was time for him to go. Your fuzzy socks that he’d claimed during a movie night, because your apartment was way too cold. The spare reusable bottle because he forgot his and was already on his way to the gym. You’d resorted to trying to slowly get your stuff through Osamu, but by week 3 he’d grown tired of it. He promised you both a free meal if you came and helped him close up one night, before forcing you two to talk it out. Within five minutes the two of you are laughing. 

Your first date had been one by accident of some sorts. You’d been walking around a shopping center at night and he’d caught view of a new ice cream shop. It was his cheat weekend and he suggested stopping. His treat. Some time in between you going home he’d teased that it felt like a date. You both were hit with a oh shit kind of moment because it was true. Throughout the night your hands had brushed several times, and you’d both even let the other use your spoon to taste your different ice cream flavors. 

Atsumu’s feelings came relatively easy. He thought you were kind, funny, interesting, and of course attractive. You had a way of leaving him speechless with your quick and witty comeback, and it was refreshing. It’d been something he hadn’t seen much since his high school days with Aran. However he’d denied the feelings for the longest, swearing to himself that he’d never have a crush on you. You were just one of the bros, but better.But, after that first date its like the feelings just flooded out. It’d ended with you hinting that you’d be interested in going on another one, “perhaps a real one this time,” and he just nodded. 

There weren’t many dates before the two of you dived into your relationship. Afterall, you’d been friends for over a year and if he’d thought you were annoying he wouldve “been gotten rid of you.” His first act of the two of you becoming a couple, was a cute picture for his new wallpaper. It’d been a hassle to get because with every picture, one of you had a problem. The first time his roots were peaking through too much and he fussed at you for not telling him he needed a touch up. Then the one he liked you were blinking, and hed insisted you looked good anyways (or that he did). He’d recounted a time where he didn’t care about making memories, but it was different now. They made him who he was, and wanted to keep the memories of your growth. 

Its the nights before games that he spends with you doing self care (an act he used to pretend like he only did because you wanted to, before just begrudgingly admitting that he liked it too.) You’d gone to look for a specific face mask, before he admitted that he stole it and forgot to bring it back (when really he used it all up and was just waiting for you to buy another one so he could take that one too). When you rolled your eyes at him, he’d just brush it off a promise of returning it before opening his arms for you to return to your cuddle position. You were supposed to be watching a movie, but he’d pulled up old games of his future opponents and kept showing you interesting plays. One hand holding the phone, the other unconsciously rubbing circles onto your back. He asks if you’re paying attention to him and you admit that you aren’t at all and he sighs in over dramatic disappointment before locking the phone and focusing on you.  

Its the argument that almost led to your breakup that happened due to a miscommunication. You’d been out with friends, Atsumu already trying and failing to coax you into staying the night with him instead. All it had taken was a picture taken completely out of context for him to feel hurt. He really really liked you (borderline was ready to admit loving you)!and thought you’d at least felt a fraction of the same emotion towards him. That night he hadn’t thought through anything before sending the picture (snapped on who knows who’s phone) to you with a simple ‘I see how it is’. What made it even worse is that you hadn’t seen the picture right away. 

It’s how your heart dropped later that night when you were finally ready to head back to his, and your heart ached at how you called him several times only to be sent straight to voicemail. Your attempt at reaching his twin was lucky as he hadn’t even told him about what he thought had happened yet. Another strike of luck when Osamu believed you and ensured that this was a case of his brother acting first and thinking later. 

The makeup had been one both of relief and realization that the two of you needed to talk. It’s when you found out that he was in love with you and that he really did love hard. Just like with volleyball, he wasn’t sure what kind of dumb shit he’d be getting into if you weren’t there. Having to sit through the conversation was uncomfortable for him as he was often the one doing the scolding to others. However the difference was that you admitted that you could’ve handled it better as well (something he doesn’t do when he’s complaining about others).

Its the nights where he hits you up at 2am already outside begging you to just take a late night drive with you. He knows you can’t tell him no so he’s offering a smirk pushing the door open as you sleepily make your way in. His eyes soften at how cute you look (he’s definitely known to slip up and talk in a baby voice like this and yes you’ve blackmailed that ass when he annoys you). You tell him that you look like shit at the moment and he agrees before backtracking and still saying you look good. 

You end up at some late night drive through arguing about fries because “ya didn’t even wanna come out in the first place” and you both don’t need them. You could just share. The workers in the drive through literally have to tell y’all to hurry up to where he just glared at the faceless menu. You have to end up shouting over him the order that he still ends up complaining about. Even though you end up with the two different orders he eats all yours and every time you try and swat his hand away he exclaims that he bought them. 

Those nights you wake up pretty easily because he lowers the windows and turns up his throwbacks playlist pretty loud and sings terribly and just looks so happy. Beautiful Soul by Jesse McCartney comes on and he loves grabbing your hand at it while singing along. Those moments are a different kind of joy from when he’s playing volleyball. He’s not focused on a win or his team and how to celebrate. He’s living in the moment, happy and carefree and with his favorite person.

a/n: um yeah cant lie I do like the sakusa version better but here we go. another middle of the night ramble. 

[gtdanganronpa]

  Sizeshifter Shuichi x Kiyo

  Shuichi had seemingly grown since he's been yelling at the male. However, after he has finished his lecture it seemed that he'd gone back to his normal height. It was almost definitely interesting. Sometimes it seemed the male was shorter than before. One time he was standing next to Himiko, and seemed only a few inches taller than her. How had anyone not noticed?

  Regardless, Kiyo realized that his crush, Shuichi, seemed to shift size. Most likely depending on emotions. And most likely, he couldn't control them.

  So Kiyo, being the curious cat that he is, decided it wouldn't hurt to do a bit of... experimenting.

  It started off plain and simple. He would personally provoke emotions inside the smaller boy, then record them. Of course, he'd do this away from others. He was not so cruel as to divulge his secret. He simply wanted to study this strange ability.

  One day after class, he hung around with his friend group. Nothing too out of the ordinary. When the boy laughed, it seemed that his hat ended up falling over his head, like it was too big. Kiyo didn't personally have to do anything, and it seemed his secret was still safe. Good.

  Of course there were feelings Kiyo had to rely on other things for. He couldn't think of a way to provoke sadness in him. But... he could scare him.

  Shuichi was in the bathroom. Kiyo had... admittedly stalked him there. Once the door opened, Shuichi walked out and Kiyo quickly stepped right out from behind the door. Seemingly out of nowhere, causing the smaller boy to yelp. Well... he was smaller. For only a split second it seemed the male grew to almost the same height as Kiyo. Not enough for someone to think he had an ability. One would probably just think they mis-saw something. Shuichi quickly went back to normal size. Ah...

  "My apologies. I did not mean to startle you." Kiyo said, giving a slight bow as a sorry before disappearing into the bathroom.

  Very interesting. He wondered how the male would react to severe amounts of stress. Well... that was rather easy to figure out. He knew his reaction to it would probably divulge his secret if anyone around. That's why Kiyo distracted him his entire week he had to study for a test. That's why on the day of the test, when Shuichi rushed out of the room to the bathroom, Kiyo followed him.

  The male had locked himself in the bigger stall, and Kiyo, of course, wasn't going to intrude. But, he did knock on it. Just to spike some more stress. Nice. "O-Occupied!!"

  The voice definitely belonged to the detective. But it was a lot louder than he felt it should've been. There was a loud thud. "..." Kiyo simply walked out. No need to cause any damage to the actual room. The male seemed to grow a good amount when under stress.

  For maybe a month these experiments continued. He was able to examine his behaviors and record them. However, one last emotion. But judging from what he'd seen, he'd also judge it wasn't too difficult to cause it.

  Constantly, while Kiyo had been studying him, he found Shuichi looking at him. Sometimes Kiyo could see him staring when he thought he wasn't looking, and Shuichis hat would get bigger again. It fascinated him. Of course, after some digging he was able to get out of his more eccentric friend, Kaede, that the male did have feelings for him.

  Oh, how wonderful!

  It was time for the last emotion he needed to record. After extra curricular activities, he stopped outside of Shuichi's club room. Everyone exited, and that left Shuichi in there, alone. He entered.

  Shuichi tilted his head and looked back to see who came in. It seemed the smaller boy was getting ready to leave. Normal size. "Oh... hey, Kiyo. Did you need something...?"

  He asked, with a curious tilt to the head.

  "As a matter of fact... yes. I'd like to talk to you about something. Maybe ask you a question or such." He hummed in thought, walking directly up to the boy. Probably too close for comfort.

  And he got a little bit smaller. He took a few steps away. "Oh... am I... did I do something...?" He blinked a few times, seeming a little nervous.

  And Kiyo continued taking steps forward. "Oh no, you needn't worry. It's nothing... wrong." He shook his head. The more steps he took, the more Shuichi took back. He seemed to be getting a little shorter. Kiyo ended up hovering over him, Shuichis back against the wall.

  He leaned down so that they were eye level, putting a hand on the wall behind him and leaning forward a little bit. "..." Shuichi's eyes were wide. There was a red tint in his cheeks. It seemed he was processing what was happening. "What, exactly, are your feelings for me, dear Shuichi?" Kiyo's voice was low, and soft. His face was close to the others.

  Finally, it seemed the past few events caught up with the detective. His face began a flustered color. "I-I..." oh jeez. Shuichi had no idea what he was supposed to do. He covered his face with his hands, attempting to try and calm himself down. And then he was engulfed in darkness.

  Kiyo blinked a few times. He did... not expect that. He knelt down onto the ground, carefully sliding two bandages fingers under the bill of the hat, lifting it. Wow... 

  Shuichi Saihara had shrunk down to the size of a freakin paper clip. Kiyo's eyes were wide. He didn't know his size could fluctuate this much. How beautiful!

  Shuichis hands were still over his face. Kiyo very carefully poked the boy's side with his finger, wanting to get his attention. Shuichi slowly lowered his hands as he felt the boy poke his side, though it felt more than a small poke. His eyes widened. Oh. O h. Shuichi was panicking now. He couldn't get smaller than this, so he didn't have to worry about that at least. But- he'd shrunk. Right in front of Kiyo.

“O..oh...” was all the smaller male could manage to say. Just ‘oh’.

“I was not... expecting you to become this small.” Kiyo murmured under his breath. He carefully took the top back of the boy’s shirt with two of his fingers, lifting him off the ground. Shuichi squeaked as he felt himself get plopped into the bandaged hand of the normal sized male.

“H-huh...” Shuichi couldn’t focus enough to try and calm down and turn back. He felt smaller than ever, so he was gonna stay small. Whether he liked it or not.

“...it truly is a fascinating thing, fluctuating size...” Kiyo murmured, bringing the boy close to his face to examine him. Shuichi stared at him wide eyed, trying not to get scared or flustered.

“...h-huh-... so you...”

“Knew? Yes, I’ve been knowing. Though I must admit, seeing you at such a smaller scale... you really are quite adorable.” He hummed. Shuichi seemed paralyzed, unknowing what to do. Why would he ever even be prepared for this? Why would he ever think hed be in this situation?

“...a-adorable..?”

Kiyo didn’t respond. He just held him there in his hand, staring at him. “...I suppose it would be best if I were to bring you to your home. It doesn’t seem you’ll be going many places this size, and I don’t believe you’ll grow while I’m near. But I cannot simply leave you, since we’ve no idea when you’d grow back in general.”

“...w...was that what that was?” Shuichi frowned softly.

Kiyo blinked, tilting his head. “Was that what what was?” He noticed Shuichi had gotten maybe an inch bigger.

“...p...pinning me against the wall like that. Getting close... asking that question...” another inch bigger. Shuichi still felt relatively small, so of course he’d stay that way. But, he was slightly... well, he didn’t know. But it made him grow a little bit. “J...Just so you could see the outcome...?” His voice sounded bitter.

The anthropologist blinked a few times. “...” Was that the only reason? The answer was no. Kiyo did wanna see what would happen. But also... he wanted confirmation. He needed confirmation about the boys’ feelings towards him. “No.”

“...” Shuichi looked up at him, waiting for him to tell him why else he got that close, said those things, spoke that way, etc. but Kiyo simply picked up Shuichi’s things. Everyone in their class knew everyone’s address since they had weekly hang outs, so he easily knew where he lived.

Shuichi didn’t speak at all the whole time, but remained small. Eventually shrinking back a few inches to when he first originally shrunk. Tiny one inch detective. Once Kiyo pulled up to his door, he searched Shuichi’s bag for a key and unlocked it. He placed his bags down inside and left the key on the counter. He looked at the boy in his hand one more time.

“...thanks... thank you.” Shuichi murmured. He was glad that... even though someone found out, at least it was Kiyo.

“...” The male pulled down his mask, and softly placed a kiss on the boy, though got lipstick over his clothes and such. He was tinier, so the male’s soft lips kissed the entire male. He quickly pulled up his mask after, setting the boy on the counter without explanation or saying and quickly left.

Shuichi just stared. He kissed him? Like- kissed him? Kissed him- like lips? Like lips kiss? Hsjdjfjrjgjfd. The male curled up in a flustered ball, but then felt himself seem to fall off the counter. “!!!” Ah. He was back to normal size, so no harm done as he hit the ground. He blinked. How come he was back to normal?

Ahhh. Shuichi curled up again, smiling slightly to himself.

Yay. Ok. Uhm. The end. Uhm. Yes.

[barryjeanblues]

taako meets death (again)

(also posted to my ao3)

taako has met two raven queens in his life before now.

well, close enough, at least. most - though not all - of the worlds the starblaster had traveled to had gods, and surprisingly enough, those gods were usually - though not always - strikingly similar to their homeworlds gods. (this was useful, because one of the crews number relied very heavily on a certain nature god for his magic. luckily, the nature or life god of each world always seemed to have a soft spot for little old merle, even if they werent merles traditional cloven-hoofed pan.)

twice, taako had met the death god - someone equivalent to faeruns raven queen. 

this had led to taakos understandable trepidation upon kravitz finally putting his foot down and insisting taako meet his mother boss. 

the first time taako had met a raven queen, she had been… overwhelming. the light of creation had fallen into a forest dedicated to her and her followers, and the head acolyte refused to give the wandering crew the light unless they first received permission from the queen.

the crew had agreed, with no other option, bracing themselves to firmly explain the direness of the situation. surely a goddess would be intelligent enough to understand. 

that raven queen had burst into a forest cleaning in an explosion of black feathers, half illusion, half steel, so that when lup brushed the smoky feathers from her eyes they blurred and dissipated, but when magnus tried the same thing he yelped and brought his hand back bleeding. 

that raven queens laughter had been eerie and echoing, almost but not quite mocking, almost but not quite infectious, almost but not quite joyous. the crew had stood firm and offered their argument, and the queen had given them tests and tokens and bargains and tricky promises with too many clauses and loopholes and at the end of it all the ipres numbers had been halved and the rest were weary and worn as they caught the light of creation and fled with only minutes to spare, the faelike laughter of death following them terribly even through the overwhelming cacophony of the hungers assault. 

that laughter had trailed after them longer, if only in their heads. taako would be making stir fry, planning outfits, swapping merles shampoo for hair-loss potions, when hed have to sit down suddenly and breathe through the musical trills of the raven queens cruel pleasure. it had seemed to bounce in his head the way a rubber ball might, ricocheting off thoughts and feelings until it rolled under a couch to be forgotten about, till some slight movement sent it rolling and bouncing about once more. 

davenport had died in an illusion, thinking he was saving his crew. poor merle had been choked by his own plants, betrayal writ across hos face. barrys skin had grown sickly purple with poison - ten to one odds arent very good odds. taako doesnt forget easily. he decides the goddess of death can go fuck herself. 

the second raven queen taako had met much later in their journey, and taako had met her alone. 

lup and barry had become liches a few cycles back. it was something taako had still been coming to terms with. 

taako loves lup. this is an immutable fact of any and every universe. taako loves lup and lup loves taako and not death or memory or space can separate them, not for long. but seeing your sister die, and then… go beyond death, to twist herself and latch on to a chance that she may never return except in madness and spite - thats a hard thing to grasp, even when she succeeds. taako had still found himself shivering when his sister forgot she had a body again and grabbed a hot pan off the stove, crying out in pain. taako still woke sweating from nightmares in which his sister and his friend flew apart and reformed as cackling red robed horrors of insanity and cruelty, too far for him to reach. 

until that cycle, though, barry and lups choice had only been an asset. 

but some raven queens do not take kindly to anything they see as a perversion of their domain. 

barely a week into that cycle, taako had awoken from the guilty non-elven pleasure of a nap only to find himself in some cold, hard court, fashioned seemingly of steel and silver and concrete, onyx lining the floor and the only color coming from sparse sapphires sparkled throughout the long echoing hall. 

at the end of it - and taako had known his eyes must have played tricks on him, because at first the being at the end of the hall seemed, while large, not much larger than a giant, but when hed called a nervous greeting his voice had echoed so awfully he knew the hall stretched much farther than hed thought and the goddess at the end of it must have been unimaginably huge. 

her eyes had glinted a flinty sapphire in her carven steel face when she ordered him to defend the existence of his sister and his sisters lover. 

taako had tried. he truly, truly had. but while taako is a being of preservation and caution, full of intelligence and cleverness, he is not one of cold hard logic. perhaps lucretia could have convinced this raven queen, the only of their number who had ever been able to grasp true hard reason… but taako doubts it. he had doubted it then and he doubts it even more these days. 

the point is, taako, for all his love for his family and his brilliant wit and devotion (probably, in fact, because of it) taakos arguments couldnt convince that raven queen. she saw past his genuine belief that lup and barry had made a good decision, and into his fears for her, and the goddess of death had based her own argument on those. she won. taako never had a chance. 

he, lup, and barry had woken up in the next cycle, newly resurrected. taako never stops feeling guilty about it. 

so. yes. 

taako is more than a little nervous about meeting the goddess his boyfriend serves so devotedly. but, and youd be hard pressed to convince him to admit it, taako would do anything for kravitz. and despite it all he does actually want to see what the deal is with his sister and his best friends boss, and his patron gods… friend? lover? girlfriend? taako isnt quite sure what fate and death are to each other, but its definitely something.

kravitz lays a warm hand on taakos shoulder, but taako squares them up. he can do this, for fucks sake - hes died a shitton of times, he can meet death. 

the doors open and taakos breath - the only breath in this realm of the dead - catches in his throat.

taako is a die hard istus fan, and shell always be his goddess. but if taako wasnt a taken elf, hed follow the raven queen, he realizes with a startle.

shes beautiful, yes. shes gorgeous, and taakos always been weak for beauty, but hers isnt the cold hard beauty of gemstones and gold, thinks his nimble fingers snatch up and hoard in his endless pockets. the raven queen is beautiful in a way that taako cant describe as anything other than simple.

he cant pin down any features. she has a kind face, gentle hands, bright eyes, but taako can tell she is a goddess because despite staying still the image of her flicks and shifts in his head. at once she seems to have every kind face hes ever seen, even if he doesnt recognize anyone. her hands reach out to comfort him - no more than comfort - but she stands without moving in front of taako and kravitz. her eyes glitter and sparkle and crinkle up with cheerful laughter, except taako isnt entirely sure she has eyes at all, or maybe she has too many. 

he thinks… he thinks maybe she has wings, or maybe theyre arms, or maybe theyre black fabric, draped around and behind and below and above her, shifting with the last breaths of every mortal in the universe. its darkness but its not scary, taako realizes, its solacing, healing, the way that he feels when dusk passes to night and the sky is huge and warm and the brush of lups hand against his as she says goodbye for the night is a relief and a love. 

hello, taako, death says. its lovely to meet you. 

she means it, taako knows. he can tell, somehow. shes just happy to meet him. nothing more, nothing less. 

'oh,' taako says aloud, and kravitz laughs his quiet sweet dorky laugh, and the raven queen laughs too, and its just that. its just a laugh, and its a nice one.

'oh indeed,' kravitz says. 'taako, did you really think id serve a monster or a cruel master?'

'well,' taako replies hesitantly, 'honestly, homie, i kind of thought you were, and id, like, have to start some quest to slay death itself and rescue you.'

the anthropomorphic personification of death laughs again, a note of delight in her tender voice. i like him, my kravitz, she says, good job.

kravitz does the dead-reaper equivalent of blushing. taako grins a little because its very cute. 

'death is different here,' taako hums. 'its… it wasnt like this anywhere else i went. it was cold, or cruel, or empty. i dunno why its different in your world.'

'then i guess we're the lucky ones, huh?' kravitz asks. taako leans up against him and murmurs an agreement. 'its why i love my job so much, why it means so much to me. its not that im some hardass, i just…'

'yea, cha'boy gets it now,' assures taako. 'still.' he looks at the ever-shifting, ever-stable face of death again. 'you better treat my boy kravitz and my lady istus well, capiche? or we will have issues.'

its a deal, taako, the raven queen says, smiling. 

when taako opens his eyes, hes in his home in the material plane, and kravitz is next to him, and theyre both smiling. 

[meirimerens]

If you're accepting fandom questions could we have some elaboration about those mgs jupiter family alaskan daydreams please? Also your amazing TEW art got me into the series so thanks, I'm liking it a lot!!

first of all, i’m so deeply honored that my art could get you into a game, and also : god i’m fucking sorry lol

second of all

oh god oh fuck alaskan daydreams time

okay so long /, the read mores don’t work, you’re gonna have to bear with it

so tldr i have… EXTENSIVE imaginated stories about dave, hal and sunny living in a little remote cabin in alaska. 

BACKSTORY 

i’d imagine it’d come somewhere post-mgs2 even though sunny is already a bit grown so maybe like just disregard canon OR imagine a different timeline i don’t know, and it’s from a place where hal and dave don’t have anything to do after the mgs2 incidents (so no mgs4 and love of god NO accelerated aging i can’t deal with this), and there is this atmosphere of… “we’ve been sticking together for so long, i can’t see ourselves just parting ways (plus we have a kid to raise and i can’t imagine raising her alone) so how about we make the rest of our lives together” and dave is just like… “hey, we’ve been running all across the country, jumping from shitty motel to shitty motel to shittier apartments, and i have this cabin i once lived in, how about we just all move into it and re-inhabit it” and that’s just how it starts. 

THE CABIN

it’s a cabin i have extensively thought about (because i’m obsessed with cabins and being a hermit, so that helps). it’d be near the shore of the Twin Lakes, Alaska (taken from the canon fact that this is where snake lived pre-MGS1), so they’d live off-the-grid and in almost-self-sufficiency (they become more and more self-sufficient as time goes on and they make more adjustments to the cabin). 

i imagine it would look similar to Proenneke’s cabin (which incidentally is also near Twin Lakes), maybe on the other shore, all wood with a vegetation/moss roof + a slight porch/elevation to protect the entrance from a bit of the snow. it’d be surrounded by wooden little dog kennels/crates for the huskies (more on that later) similar to the ones in [this video] around the 0:59 min mark (warning for animal death/general stuff that goes on in a trapper’s lifestyle for the vid).

it here’s a floor plan of the cabin, not to proportions because i’m just shit at it :

(good luck reading that)

not pictured : when sunny was smaller (before the addition), her bed was like a little shelf just above the big bed (that hal and dave share) with little like “walls” so she doesn’t fall and a thick mattress, which was discarded when she got her new room.

later would be added an outdoor kitchen and a chicken coop (more on that…….. later)

EATING THERE

as i said, they’d first be living in semi-dependency : every ¾ weeks they’d have to go to Port Alsworth/Anchorage or somewhere else to stock tf up. Snake would fish (you can fish for subsistence if you’ve been living in Alaska for over a year according to law) and hunt (seems to be the same type of law when hunting for food, YES i’ve researched this, leave me alone) for food. As he has done odd jobs to afford his cabin, I imagine he’d have done crabbing, and would show up to help on crabbing boats from time to time to get some of them crabs.

later, I imagine they would get 4 rescue hens to get some of them fresh eggs. snake would build a chicken scoop from forest wood. 1 of the hens wouldn’t be able to make eggs because she was traumatized from the industry but they still took her in because she was close friends with the other hens and they didn’t want to separate them. 

I imagine Snake had been growing his own herbs in the kitchen but maybe they’d get a greenhouse ready.

they’d go foraging for berries, fruits and mushrooms according to the seasons and make a SHITTON of jams and preserves.

LIVING THERE

i imagine there would be a lot of solidarity with the surrounding populations. for exemple, Hal would help set up and manage online dictionaries for Iñupiat, Yup'ik or Alutiiq languages with the local communities, maybe help wire up some schools, things like that, and as thanks some people would go check on them and give em veggies or something.

THE DOGS :

Snake is getting them.

since we don’t know what happened to his huskies around mgs1, i suppose/guess they were at some time confiscated from him, so first, he’s get a lovely husky female from a shelter (i also have long thought about how he’d never go to a breeder and only adopt, because the whole “creature created with a man’s ideal in mind” hits a bit too close for him you feel) that would later be revealed as pregnant with like 5 puppies (it will come back later as relevant as promise). Then he’d do his best to regain contact with his huskies, maybe setting up a call on social media (THIS WILL BE PART OF A BRAIN ROTTING DEGENERACY I WILL EXPAND ON IN A MINUTE) to find them again. i imagined he would get to see one of his old huskies, who has well aged, who was adopted by some nice nice people. then said nice people, after his visit, insisting on him getting his husky back because “since you left she hasn’t been herself, she refused to eat. we think she misses you too much. we love her tons and it breaks our heart to let her go, but we think she would be so much happier by your side” type of deal, i’m fucking crying just thinking about it.

of course, once his team is back in shape, he’s run the Iditarod again. Hed keep contact with hal over walkietalkie during the race. hal would jump in his arms when he crosses the finish line, the pic would circulate in the news. it’d be cute i’m saying.

THE HENS :

as I said, adopted, in a little scoop snake built himself. they give eggs. sometimes they let them roam free and they bully hal when he peels vegetables (i’ve drawn smth about this). sunny feeds them in the mornings. things are good.

MORNING ROUTINE :

Snake wakes up around 5AM because he don’t need no sleep and goes to his huskies. feeds them. then make them run. when he gets back around 8 to 8:30, hal is still asleep. snake makes breakfast. the scents wake hal up. things are good.

SUNNY?

Sunny is taught by snake how to chop wood. he makes a tiny axe for her tiny hands. he and hal teach her how to swim in the Twin Lakes. the waters cold but she grows immune to it, strong and stronger. she learns how to differenciate which mushrooms and berries are edible.

they try to send her to school but she’s WAY too advanced and is bored to death. she stays at home. she’s outside all day or she learns astrophysics with Hal, who’s taking online classes in his free time. she learns some Athabaskan languages at a community class once in a while, she makes some friends.

HOW’S THE WEATHER

They go on hikes a lot. Often, and long ones. At first, sunny is in a little baby back carrier (i have drawn about this), then she walks just right. Alaska has gorgeous national parks, they explore them, year after year. They arrive in a town, exhausted and beat, they find a hotel room. It has a bathtub and warm water. Hal is OVERJOYED.

in the earliest hints of spring, snake takes them to Fairbanks through the beautiful alaskan railroad. they see the most beautiful and powerful of northern lights during the full season. hal and sunny can’t tear their eyes from the skies.

THIS IS WHERE I GO CRAZY GO STUPID.

ok…. so bear with me.

i mentioned an internet/social media presence.

it’s because in a deviation of this daydream, snake has a little youtube channel (and an instagram to go with it).

it’s not much. it’s really not, but hal has a few cameras and more that he finds and fixes.

it’s mostly lowkey, chill vlogs. stuff like 

“slow alaskan winter day (no talking)” 

“sprintime berry picking ( + jams recipes!)”

“alaskan summer outdoor fire cookout ( + wild moose and caribou near the lake)”

“denali national park hike (day 1)”

stuff that like you know. as well as some more…

“i ran the iditarod (and won)”

“we got hens (building a chicken scoop, meeting the rescue hens and more)”

“musher’s morning routine (i’d recommend you didn’t try this at home if you are not the genetically engineered clone of a super-soldier, for your sake)”

and as you guessed…

“so our rescue husky was pregnant… (i’m an idiot who didn’t notice, trip to the vet, building a whelping pen, whelping, bottlefeeding tiny pup + all the puppies’ pictures!)”

where dave would teach hal how to bottlefeed a puppy and you’d be able to hear hal’s “oh god oh god oh god oh god”s from out of frame as the camera focuses on dave’s hands holding his to have him perfectly cup the puppy in his palm and carry the bottle. this type of deal.

then follow-up videos of the puppies climbing the bed where hal is, playing on his gameboy. he chuckles nervously and then heartily when a puppy licks his face.

some winter days, the videos have snake bringing all the huskies in the small cabin. some of them sit calmly on the wide bed where hal studies his astrophysics.

and an instagram with wilderness pictures… all except a few taken by hal. some of snake posing in front of the snowed in cabin. some of warm drinks made on winter days. you know the deal.

and they’d have such a nice… positive… lowkey and easy-going comment section. dave would reply to a lot of them. 

he’d get quite a share of “hey man, i love your vids so much, thank you for posting this content. i was wondering, sorry if it’s a bit too personal, are you and your roommate dating? you two seem very close, but i don’t want to assume anything 😅 absolutely love your content either way, you’re the only youtuber i have notifs on” to which he’d reply “thank you so much, really appreciate it. and we’re not, we’ve just known each other for a long, long time. we’re aware two straight guys raising a child and living together isolated makes for a bit of confusion, but it’s totally platonic between us. thanks for sticking around.” but one day he uploads a vid that’s like 

“crabbing in juneau ! + life update (please read description)”

and the desc + the first 20 seconds of the vid is a text superimposed over embarassing pictures of hal and it reads “hey all / quick personal update, i’ll make it quick / otacon and i realized we loved each other / (as more than friends that is) / so if we seem just a bit closer in the videos from now on this is why / no idea how this is going to turn out for up / but yeah. if he seems a bit more affectionate it’s because we’re dating now, or something like that / and to everyone whom i told ‘it’s just strictly platonic between us’:  / well. ha ha. whoops. / anyway thank you for reading / enjoy the video” and all the comments would be like “that’s so dope i’m so happy for you” and other “tbf we saw that coming” and snake would smash that like button on these comments.

and he’d have a video of the whole iditarod race as taken from a camera on his jacket/on his sled… and he’d have videos of him filming hal film the landscape through the window of the train during their trip to fairbanks… and of hal and sunny in said train sharing a tangerine… and of him building a little axe for sunny…. and he’d always ask her if she is okay with being on camera, and when she’d say no he’d make sure she doesn’t appear on here or add a cute husky sticker on her face so she’s not seen.

just lowkey. chill. upbeat. simple life moments. he’d disappear off the internet for a month because he’s just enjoying the life and when he’d come back everyone would be very understanding and glad to see some cool pictures or vids. you know? just chilling. just chilling. just living.

one day before a “hiking through lake clark national park” he has the same little life update thing and it goes “hey / so otacon and i got married / sunny and aksinya [rescued pregant husky] were our flower girls / otacon cried / i cried / anyway, enjoy the video” over pictures of the tiny alaskan wedding. and it’s well.

[justauthoring]

tears of despair (2/2)

request: Could I request a Lorenzo x Reader where the reader is sold off due to her fathers debts and Lorenzo does everything he can to get her back

part one

please don’t plagiarize my work!

word count: 1,724

The bed shifts under his weight, and all too soon do you feel an arm wrap around your waist, pulling you against another. 

You keep your eyes on that one small spot on the wall adjacent to you, it being the only thing to somewhat calm your nerves. Your right hand grips the sheets beneath you tightly, crumpling them up in the palm of your head as you entire body tenses upon the feeling of him behind you.

His free hand brushes the hair around your neck back, revealing the skin from him as he presses light kisses against the exposed skin. Your eyes fall shut, not in contentment or pleasure, but rather discomfort. And as your eyes fall shut, you like imagine that it is Lorenzo behind you, not Leonardo, and that you are back home in Florence with Lorenzo by your side.

When you open your eyes, the dream fades and reality settles in.

“Will you join me for breakfast this morning?”

You swallow thickly at the sound of his voice, your grip on the sheets tighten if more so. Shoulders tensing, you press the side of your head into your pillow, your silence giving Leonardo his answer.

You hear him huff in frustration, his arm practically ripping from your side. The bed once again shifts under his weight as he stands up to his feet, and while you don’t glance back at him, the urge to is strong. Your body is completely still, tense in anticipation towards his movements. 

You hear the slight ruffling of clothing, signaling that he was getting dressed before footsteps echo around the room. They stop by the door, and for a moment silence seems to be the only thing you can focus on. Then, Leonardo scoffs and his lips part; “I have been very patient,” he mumbles, his voice thin and cold, displaying his frustration. “Given the circumstances, I thought it best to let you become acquainted with your new home on your own terms. But this has been going on for too long.”

Your jaw clenches when you hear footsteps once again, and then suddenly a shadow falls in front of you. Your eyes flicker upwards, meeting Leonardo’s own angry ones staring down at you.

“Get up,” he orders.

You stay put.

His lip snarls and then Leonardo grabs your wrist, pulling you up with a hard yank. A gasp leaves your lips in response, being pulled up to your feet by no will of your own. Leonard then grabs your other hand, squeezing both wrists tightly that you know it will leave a bruise, as he leans in close, his eyes narrowed dangerously.

“I am your husband,” he growls, eyes blazing. Your lips part in fear, heart pounding against your chest. “You will obey me.”

Gaining courage, you narrow your own eyes, struggling in his grip. “Let me go.”

Leonard only response by tugging you forward once again, he shifts his body in one quick movement and suddenly you find yourself slamming against the floor. You land with a thud, a moan of pain leaving your lips. You barely have time to register your pain before you hear Leonardo lunge towards you, causing you to spin so you are on your back, staring fearfully up at your husband.

“You will obey me,” Leonard repeats, the words a underlining threat. “You will learn to accept your position as my wife and this foolish pity party you are throwing will end.”

You stare up at him, chest rising and falling rapidly. 

“Is that clear?”

Once again, you don’t respond. That little bit of defiance in you still fighting.

You flinch, though, a whimper leaving your lips when Leonard raises his head. “Is that clear?”

Cowering, you finally nod; “y-yes--!”

A knock on the door interrupts you. Your eyes flicker over to it, your body stilling when it slowly opens and a servant pokes his head in through. Leonard spins around to face the servant, his eyes falling on that of you to your husbands, and for a moment, you swear you see realization of your state hit him. But he says nothing.

“What is it?” Leonard snaps.

“Uh, sorry, Messer,” the servant shakily bows his hand. “There is a man here that wishes to speak to you.”

Leonardo’s eyes fall on yours briefly before turning back to the servant. “Messer Medici, sir.”

Your eyes widen. That couldn’t...

Growling, Leonardo nods; “leave us.” The servant is quick to obey, but not without a brief glance your way, the door shutting behind him.

You are pulled out of your thoughts when Leonard takes another step your way. Meeting his eyes, you swallow nervously. “Get dressed,” he orders gruffly, before a tight-lipped smile crosses his features. “We have company.”

-

You keep your head bowed, hands clasped before yourself as you listen carefully to those around you. Leonard is stood to your left, a few steps ahead of you as you both patiently, or impatiently given your circumstance, wait for Messer Medici be brought into your husband’s family’s hall.

You don’t have to wait too long before you hear the familiar sound of the large doors squeaking open. You know who it is, but you don’t dare raise your hand to confirm your suspicions. It’s been weeks since that day in the streets of Florence when you had cried and pleaded with Lorenzo to save you from what was now your marriage. From when he promised he’d save you and find you once more.

That had been weeks and you were starting to lose hope.

“Messer Medici,” your husband greets, and you can practically envision the fake smile plastered on his lips. “How nice it is to see you again.”

“Please.” You falter slightly at the sound of his voice, finally daring to raise your head. When your eyes finally land on Lorenzo, you feel your heart quite literally stop. Lorenzo is careful not to meet your eyes, but something about the smirk on his lips tells you he aware of your wondering gaze. “Call me Lorenzo, as I shall call you Leonardo.”

Your eyes flicker to your husbands as he feigns a polite grin; “okay, Lorenzo,” he corrects with a slight tilt of his head. “What is it that brings you so far away from your home?”

“I think you already know, Leonardo.”

You have no doubt what, or rather who he speaks of.

“Ah,” Leonardo nods, and your thoughts are only confirmed when his gaze slides to you. “My wife.”

For the first time in what feels like forever, your eyes meet Lorenzo’s.

“The wedding has not actually occurred,” Lorenzo comments, that confident smirk on his face never faltering. “Or had I heard wrong?”

You see the edges of Leonardo’s feigned politeness waver, his smile faltering just slightly. “No, you are correct,” he nods stiffly. He reaches out for you, and you listen without fault, not wanting to cause a seen or end up with another bruise. Your face tenses when Leonardo wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you securely against his side. You keep your gaze firmly on that of Lorenzo to help calm yourself. “But she is still to be my wife,” Leonardo continues, raising his chin in defiance. “Why should I give her back when her father as already promised her to me?”

“Because I can pay a hefty price,” Lorenzo bargains, “one that would greatly benefit your family.”

Leonardo’s lips part and he pauses in thought for a moment; “you are right,” he relents, “But, I have grown quite fond of Y/N.” You swallow slightly when Leonardo raises his hand, stroking it across your left cheek, causing you to flinch away from his touch slightly. Meeting Lorenzo’s eyes, you don’t miss the way his shoulders square tightly upon your reaction. “Money can’t always buy such beauty.”

“Have you ever heard of love, Leonardo?

Your breath halts in your chest at Lorenzo’s words, your eyes widening.

Leonardo also seems surprised by Lorenzo’s words, pushing you away as he takes a step towards Lorenzo. Coming to a stop before him, he crosses his arms over his chest. “Are you telling me you are in love with my wife?”

“Fiance.”

“Answer the question, Lorenzo.”

“Yes,” Lorenzo nods, his eyes sliding past Leonardo’s shoulder to meet your own. “I am in love with, Y/N. And I will pay any price to have her. I have already made the preparations.”

There is a startling moment of silence where you are unsure what Leonardo will say. Where you truly believe he will say no. But then, he spins, meets your eyes and nods, signaling towards Lorenzo. Your eyes widen, brows furrowing as you hesitate walking forward. Then, slowly, you step forward, crossing the short distance to Lorenzo as Leonardo makes his way back to his previous spot.

The moment you reach Lorenzo, he grabs you by the wrist, tucking you securely and safely behind him.

“That’s it?” Lorenzo questions, obviously confused. “No bargaining? Arguments?”

“She was never more than a bargaining chip,” Leonardo shrugs, and you feel your heart plummet at the fact that you were nothing more than a pawn in this mans game. That he never even considered you an actual human being with feelings and thoughts. “I wanted money, didn’t matter from who; her father, you, someone else. And i’ve got what I wanted.”

Lorenzo’s shoulders square and you can see the anger in his eyes, but you squeeze his hand, causing his eyes to fall on your own. Sighing, Lorenzo turns back to Leonardo; “my men will provide you with the appropriate sum.”

Leonardo grins; “pleasure doing business with you, Messer Medici.”

Lorenzo doesn’t respond. He simply turns, pulling you with him as you glance back at Leonardo one final time, hating the way he glowers down at you. The moment Lorenzo and you are alone and far away from Leonardo, he pulls you quickly into his embrace, pulling you firmly against himself and cradling the back of your head.

“Lorenzo,” you breathe, voice shaky. “The money--”

Pulling back, Lorenzo leans his forehead against your own. “It doesn’t matter,” he argues softly, “all that matters is I have you back in my arms.”

Letting out a shaky breath, you nuzzle your nose against Lorenzo’s warmth. “I missed you, my love.”

“As I missed you.”

-

Let me know what you thought? Remember, reblogging always helps!

[hookedonapirate]

The Way She Makes Him Feel It

Summary: She wants to break up every night, then tries to fuck him back to life.

A/N: I really have no excuse for this, it’s just something that came from listening to the song Break Up Every Night by the Chainsmokers. I rated this mature but the smut is referenced and not detailed at all, this is mostly an angsty little thing I wanted to write.

Happy New Years everyone! 

Rated: M

Word Count: 1830

AO3 I FF.N

She wants to break up every night, then tries to fuck him back to life.

And she succeeds every time.

To think, his life used to be so simple… before she came in like a whirlwind and turned his world upside down.

They’d met at a bar, sparks flew between them immediately and what had started as a one night stand had quickly spiraled into something more. Or so it did.

Now she flees every chance she gets.

Maybe it’s his fault for putting too much pressure on her to start a relationship when he knows she’s had a rocky history in the dating department. She’s had a boyfriend who’d cheated and one who died, another who did both. So she’s too scared to risk giving away her heart again and wanted to keep things between them casual. He can’t help the way his heart has grown fond of her though. She’s so fierce and full of life, she's a firecracker in bed and so insatiable. Being with her is like going to France one time and becoming Parisian.

He can’t seem to stay away.

Nor can he resist her when she comes knocking on his door wanting to get back together again. Even though his older brother is constantly insisting against it, telling him not to fall for her games or her prowess.

Each time she breaks up with him, they go through the same ole song and dance.

“I need some time to think, I need some space,” is what she tells him as she’s leaving.

She changes her mind every night like the seasons, not knowing exactly what she wants. Meanwhile, he's at home, drowning in misery and loneliness from the emptiness she’s left in her wake. He checks his phone every second to see if she’s called or texted, then checks his pulse to make sure his heart's still beating because he feels lifeless without her, like he’s drowning.

So when she shows up on his doormat the very next day and says she wants him now, he sees the sorrow and apology in her eyes and can’t help but take her back. When she lunges forward, crushing his mouth with hers, pushing him back inside the apartment and slamming the door shut, he can’t help but let her use him to her heart's desire. When she presses him against it, kissing him breathlessly until he’s deprived of all oxygen, he can’t help but come to life again. And when she unbuttons his shirt, runs her fingers through his chest hair and pushes him on any available surface close by and rides him good and hard, until their bodies are crumbling and shaking and sweating and breathless, and after she’s made him come, milking him for everything he’s worth, he can’t help but like the way she makes him feel it.

In the morning they’re satisfied and sated and that’s when they start getting close again. They build the bridge up again, and that’s when she gets scared and takes off, burning the bridge down once more as she goes. And that’s when his heart stops again.

She wants to break up every night, then tries to fuck him back to life.

It’s the same rollercoaster ride over and over again. It’s like being at an amusement park and buying a ticket for one good ride, only the ride keeps stopping before it gets to the really good part and he has to keep starting from the beginning.

That’s what their relationship is like.

But he kind of loves it.

He loves the power she has over him. He loves it because he knows she feels as he does. And he can’t wait until she finally decides to realize it. She can’t stay away from him just like he can’t stay away from her. So she keeps coming back before she can feel the pain rising in her chest. She comes back hoping for a different result, hoping she won’t feel as strongly for him. But it’s always the same.

She gives him the runaround and leaves him wondering who he’s with now. She’s got seven personalities and everyone of them’s a tragedy.

But the thing is he loves each and every one of them.

So when she breaks up with him for the millionth time and doesn’t show up at his door the next day, his whole body aches. He remains hopeful, but when she doesn’t show up the next day or the one after that, he feels numb. He wants to give her the space she needs, but he also can’t live without her.

So he waits.

Still, she doesn’t come.

A week goes by and he hasn’t heard a word from her, so he goes to her place, but she’s not there. He tries calling her and texting her everyday, but there’s no reply.

It’s not until three months pass when there’s a knock on his door at seven in the morning. And he knows it’s her. He recognizes her knock because it’s soft and tentative, like a child’s knock.  

He doesn’t hesitate to stride across the room in his plaid pajama pants, his hair wrecked as he rubs the sleep from his eyes. He takes a deep, shaky breath and with unsteady fingers, he turns the knob and pulls the door open.

Normally a smile would take over his lips upon seeing her breathtaking beauty—she may even look more beautiful than she did when he’d first met her—but when there are a million tears streaming down her face, his heart constricts in pain.

“I’m so sorry,” she mumbles through her sobs, and he can hear his brother’s voice in his ear telling him not to let her take him down again like every other time, but Killian’s unable to shut his feelings off for her. Even after three months and the numbness that had taken over him, everything he feels for her comes rushing back to the surface.

“Emma…” he starts to say, but she shakes her head to stop him.

“I don’t expect you to forgive me, but…” she chokes out another cry, “I had to feel pain again.”

Cocking a brow, he’s not sure what she means. ”What pain?”

“The pain that I felt every time I wasn’t with you. I’ve been numb for so long, I had to learn to feel again.”

Her words tear him apart. He swallows the lump in his throat, needing to know exactly why she’d needed to feel pain again. “And do you?”

Emma manages a strangled laugh, tears still falling down her cheeks. “Yes, I kept running away because I was afraid where things between us were going, and I would always come back because my heart would hurt…” the words stutter in her throat and she pauses and takes a breath, a soft smile forming on her lips. “My heart hurts when I’m not with you.”

“So you left to feel pain?” he asks in confusion, but it’s very early in the morning, so his brain is still foggy with sleep.

Emma nods. “Yes, I needed to feel the pain again so I could find out the truth, and so I could stand here and tell you to your face…”

“Tell me what?”

“That I… I love you, Killian Jones, and I don’t ever want to leave again.”

A big grin stretches across his lips, heart soaring to life again. “I love you too.” He steps forward, but to his dismay she puts a hand on his chest to stop him, her facial features growing more serious again.

“Wait, there’s something you should know before you decide to take me back.”

“You’ve never left, love,” he confesses, his words completely shattered as he raises hand to her cheek, his thumb wiping away her tears. “At least not from my heart.”

Another smile spreads across her lips as she sees the truth in his eyes. “But I have to tell you the reason why I had to make sure my feelings for you were real. I have to tell you why I didn’t come back the next night.”

“Why’s that?” Not that it matters, he’s in this for the long haul, whatever her reasons are.

Emma doesn’t speak right away, her emerald greens shining with the evidence of her love for him. She reaches her hand out, taking his and pulling their joined hands towards her abdomen. Lifting her sweater, she places his hand on her belly.

Killian‘s breath catches when he feels the roundness at his touch, his eyes glowing with wonderment.

“I’m pregnant, Killian. Sixteen weeks. And when I found out, I was more afraid than I’ve ever been in my life. I even,” her words crack as she continues, “I even considered giving the baby up, but I knew I couldn’t. I couldn’t let go of something—someone—we created together. So I needed to make sure my feelings for you were real. I needed to know I couldn’t live without you, pregnant or not.”

Killian has no words at first. His eyes widen and he looks down trying to process everything, his hand tightening around the life growing inside her. After those three months, he’d thought he’d lost her. He’d thought she hadn't wanted him anymore. Turns out he couldn't have been further from the truth. He should have never given up on her for one bloody second. “I’m going to be a father?” he finally musters, his words completely shattered.

“Yes, you are, if you want to be that is,” she says swallowing thickly. “I’m sorry it took me being pregnant to realize that I love you, and I can understand if you want me to leave and never come back.”

His eyes darken at the thought, but he quickly banishes it from his mind as he kneels down and plants a warm, loving kiss on her protruding belly. Still holding her hand, he caresses her delicate stomach with his other fingers, appreciating the feel of her skin finally on his lips and underneath his fingertips again and the way her scent permeates his senses. He’s so relieved to have her back and carrying his child, words can’t even express how he feels. So he rises and takes her into his arms, kissing her deep and fierce, expressing everything he feels for her in a breathless, heady kiss. And when they come up for air again, his heart thumping wildly, he touches her forehead with his to keep the world from spinning around him, a soft whisper pouring from his lips. “I never want you to leave again.”

She sighs in relief, a big smile blooming across her lips “Good.”

It’s not until she’d arrived on his doormat that morning, bearing his unborn child and promising to never to leave again when she brings him back to life again. Only this time it’s permanent. This time, the bridge they build that day never gets burned down ever again.

[captaingondor]

Okay, but if you're still looking for romantic prompts, how about Character A saying I love you to Character B without using the words "I love you." (Through actions, or an "as you wish" situation. That kinda thing.)

Thanks for the prompt!!For this, I wrote about probably my favorite of my OC ships. Tragically I probably won’t be able to show as much of their relationship as I’d like in the work itself, and neither of them is the perspective character. This is fortunate in that  I can write whatever I want for self-fanfic without stepping on the main narrative’s toes, and unfortunate as I want to just write their whole relationship basically which made this a little hard to pare down. Hope y’all love them too!If you want some dramatic irony, also read this piece I wrote with Corrianne earlier. And, if you are curious, the correct way to pronounce her name is ‘cor-ee- AHN,’ with a French R sound.

How Empress Corrianne Learned to Speak Her Husband’s Language

When they married, Corrianne could not speak to her new husband.

Like most nobility around the continent, she had never studied Pelasian. Even centuries later, the fears birthed by the Speaker Wars lived on. No mage could twist your mind to his will if you couldn't understand the words he needed to do it. (Of course, now Pelasia had grown to power anyway without the use of mind-altering magic, so maybe it had all been for nothing.) And the Emperor, it seemed, had never bothered to learn any language but his own native tongue.

Corrianne studied and practiced until she was able to carry on something of a conversation with him without going through her ladies-in-waiting or his translator. The Emperor could not even say her name right.

But chipping away at the language barrier was not aiding their communication to the level that she had thought it should. True, she did not mind the extent to which he left her to herself - she had encouraged it. No, the Emperor was simply a hard man to understand. So she told herself, and so she held firmly in believing.

She could not have said when she first started noticing a difference.

***

He knocked at the door between their suites late in the evening, when she had retreated to hers from the court but not yet prepared herself for bed. He always knocked - these rooms remained hers, not his. The first few times he’d done this, she’d sent one of her maids to answer instead and give her regrets. When he proved unfailingly polite to them, and did not push past her excuses, she decided this could be allowed and came to the door herself. He never demanded her presence, or even requested - a request from the Emperor was little less than a demand. He merely gave an offer - he had ended his work for the day and would be in his sitting room, and would welcome her company if she wished to join him.

“I usually take this time for some quiet when I can… read for a bit by the fire, have a glass of wine… but if you would like to talk instead -” His eyes flicked to the maid murmuring all his words in Corrianne’s ear. “Perhaps practice your Pelasian?”

He had not offered to practice his Ruveldin, or even Idan, so that time she had refused. But she didn’t really want to spend the rest of her life married to a man that she would not talk to, so the next time she had accepted.

She’d been worried about his intentions that time, though he’d never touched her without her permission. But he really had just sat by the fire with his book and offered her a glass of wine, and did not press her unduly for conversation when she opened her own book. They made a few simple comments to each other on their day, and what they were reading, and spent the rest of the evening in silence together. She wondered how many times he’d had two glasses brought up, hope. She wondered if he’d left a few dregs in each to keep the servants from talking. She felt a little bad, but only a little.

She’d come over many times since then, and it had almost become a little ritual between them. They did not always spend the time reading silently - she truly did wish to practice her Pelasian, and he proved a patient conversation partner.

This time when he knocked, she answered with a smile and stepped through before he even needed to make his offer. She carried a book with her, but did not open it immediately when she sat down, and so he did not reach to pick up his own.   “Thank you for joining me.” Even now that it was a regular occurrence, he thanked her. “I enjoy your company. I have little time to myself, but this has been an improvement on solitude.”

She had not thought the Emperor one to seek out solitude. He demanded the attention of the world. Perhaps she had misunderstood him. She smiled politely and asked him about his day. He was a man of routine; she knew the words he would use to speak about that well enough to follow, better than whatever that declaration had been.

***

They were at dinner, which was rarely a private affair. There were always people at court to entertain. But today was no great feast or party, only a regular meal, and while the Emperor’s attention might as ever be demanded at any time, at present Corriane and her husband were left to converse among themselves as they ate, should they choose to.

They did not always. Corrianne preferred practicing her Pelasian when they were in private, and going through a translator was more clunky than casual dinner conversation with her husband ought to be. And besides, it was dinner, and their main focus was eating.

But today, he chose to strike a conversation up. “Have you heard from your sisters lately?”

She’d received a letter from Everrie just that day. Perhaps he’d had mail come in from Ruveld as well, or seen the messenger bring it in. Or perhaps it was a lucky guess, though that seemed less likely. “I have.”

“And how are they?”

A few times, early on, when the Emperor had asked about her family, she had wondered if he were fishing for information on them, for his schemes or politics. But that had been silly. Surely he had plenty of sources for that without her.

“Both are well. Also my father, and -” She paused. She did not know the proper word for stepmother or half-brother. But he knew that they were her stepmother and half-brother, of course, there was no need to explain it to him. “And his wife, and Alairon.”

“Glad to hear it. Your younger sister’s birthday was coming up, wasn’t it?” He didn’t try to say her name - maybe he’d seen Corrianne wince as he mispronounced hers too many times.

“Yes, they had just celebrated it when Everrie wrote me.”

“She could handle planning for it without you, then?”

Oh. He had remembered, from the last time Everrie wrote. She had told him how Everrie was used to following her lead for social events, how she had been so frantic about taking it on herself, how she had wanted to prove she could step up to the task without leaning too heavily on their stepmother. She hadn’t passed on all of Everrie’s pouring out her heart - she did not think she’d have like the Emperor to hear all of it - but she liked to talk about home, and it was a good subject for her to use in practicing her conversation. And, she realized, her husband had been very attentive in asking her about her sisters. He had been since the first time she brought it up.

“It was as I told her, she -” She hesitated, and finished the sentence in Ruveldin for his interpreter to pass on. “She is more competent than she gives herself credit. She just needed to get her time of worrying out of the way and put her mind to it.”

“Still, they must miss you at home. You light up my court so, I can see it would be hard to lose you.”

She hardly knew how to respond to that, and took a bite so that she would not have to.

***

One of her ladies reported to Corrianne that her husband had had a gift sent to her rooms, so she came to them and found the box set on a table. She opened it to find a delicate golden hair comb, set with many small, deep red gems. Beautiful, and very much to her taste. She wondered if he had picked it out himself.

It was hardly the first gift he had given her. Fine cloth for her dresses, a dark bay riding horse, expensive jewelry, books - ones that he thought she would enjoy, or Pelasian translations of ones she had to help in her study. Some she had written off as no more than what might be expected from the Emperor to his wife. The others had confounded her. What did he mean by them? Was he trying to buy her affections, to keep her and thereby her father’s kingdom sweet? Did he wish to flaunt his wealth and power?

But none of those thoughts came to her now - only a desire to find her husband so she could thank him for it.

She made a few inquiries and was glad to be able to find him alone, going over his correspondence. He looked up, and smiled when he saw her. She’d never noticed before how different that smile looked from the one she saw him wear in public, how his eyes brightened with it. He nodded at the comb she clutched in her hand.

“You like it?”

She nodded. “It is -” It is lovely, she wanted to say, but could not find the right word as she filed through her Pelasian vocabulary. “It is very nice.”

He stood up from his desk and walked over to her. “I thought it would look well with your hair.” His eyes lifted to the honey-gold braids crowning her head as he spoke. He hesitated a moment, and then held out his hand. “May I?”

She passed the comb to him, and he slid it into her hair as though he were one of her maids. Her husband stood back, and looked at her admiringly for the space of several second, before frowning.

“I’m sorry - I don’t have a mirror here for you to look at it -”

She smiled softly. “I am sure you put it in straight. Thank you.”

“I’m happy you like it, Corrianne.” He stumbled over the r, and tried again. “Cor - Corrianne -”

It still was not right, but she smiled anyway. “I understand, Seyetto.” And she set her hands on his shoulders, pushed herself up on her toes, and kissed him.

[computerguideworld-blog]

This Wife Thought She Had a Great MarriageThen She Logged Onto Their Computer

New Post has been published on https://computerguideto.com/must-see/this-wife-thought-she-had-a-great-marriagethen-she-logged-onto-their-computer/

This Wife Thought She Had a Great MarriageThen She Logged Onto Their Computer

Husbands, I share this with you, not to point fingers or make you feel bad. I share this because I want you to know…

Every week, I receive numerous messages from wives who have discovered that their husbands are looking at porn, and its heart-breaking. Porn can wreck a marriage. I know this pain, because I, too, have walked through it in my own marriage.

Early in our marriage, I logged into our computer and discovered thatDavehad been looking at porn. I couldnt believe what I saw. My heart was beating out of my chest, and I seriously thought that somebody had broken into our home and surfed the web for porn. Not Dave. Not my Dave. We had a great marriageat least I thought we did.

All I could think was,

How could he do this to me? To us?

Am I not enough for him? Am I not pretty/skinny/sexy enough?

Doesnt he know this is wrong?

Didnt he know this would hurt me?

I took an hour or so to process what I eventually realized and accepted as the truth: Dave had been looking at porn for awhile. He had a porn addiction. My Dave. My husband. My hero.

I knew I had to address it. I called him at work and simply asked if he had something to tell me. He immediately confessed to the porn. It was like hed been waiting for me to find out. He told me that he was glad it was out in the open now, and he knew it was wrong.

I would love to tell you that the days that followed were easy, but they werent. I was so hurt. I felt ugly and unwanted. I could tell that Dave felt horrible about it. He wanted to stop doing this a long time ago, but he said he just couldnt stop through his own willpower.

As a Christian, he understood that he was lusting after the women in those images. He knew what Jesus stated so clearly in the Bible, that to lust at a woman is committing adultery in your heart. It goes directly against our marriage vows.

Dave knew this, and yet, he struggled with it. For more on Daves story, please read his blog post The Truth About Porn.

Husbands, I share this with you, not to point fingers or make you feel bad. I share this because I want you to know what your porn habit does to your wife.

It breaks her heart. It makes her feel like you cheated on her. It makes her doubt her beauty and sexual appeal. It causes her to have a deep insecurity with your marriage. It causes her anxietyand even depression. It makes her feel cheap, and she sees you as sleazy. It fractures the trust she has in you, and it immediately makes her lose respect for you.

You may tell yourself the lies that so many other husbands in our culture believe.Lies like,

Im not hurting anyone.

Im not actually sleeping with another person, so its not cheating.

Whats wrong with me spicing up my sex life?

This is something I do alone, so it doesnt affect her.

Porn actually enhances my sex life, because it gives me ideas for what we can do in the bedroom.

Im a grown man, and I can do whatever I want to do. Its none of her business.

Its okay if I look at porn to meet my needs, because she doesnt want to have sex as frequently as I do.

All of these are excuses that mask a HUGE problem and keep husbands intertwined in a terrible habit that can become a full-blown addiction.

Husbands, if you are looking at porn, please get help and STOP immediately. Go confess this to you wife. Dont hide it any more. Seek Gods forgiveness and your wifes forgiveness.

Then, take the steps necessary to regain her trust. Put accountability in place. Remove computers or other devices from hidden places. Get blockage software that will alarm a trusted friend or your wife any time you look up porn on your computer. Get rid of any television channels that show porn at night.Be willing to do WHATEVER IT TAKES to beat this and save your marriage.You can do this if you are willing to put in the work.

You must show your wife that you only have eyes for her. Show her that you want her and love her with all your heart. Give her your time and attention daily.

Those porn stars cant love you back. Dont trade the love of your life for a temporary, empty fix.Go to your wife and talk about your sexual desires and needs. Listen when she shares hers as well. Work together on having a God-honoring and sexually satisfying marriage. Dont settle for a counterfeit image to fulfill a need that only your wife should meet.

Porn is never the answer. It doesnt spice things up. It chokes out real intimacy between a husband and wife.

Please know that there is hope. Dave and I grew stronger through this struggle, and you can too. Be blessed!

For more on how wives can also struggle with porn, please readThe Truth About Women and Porn by clicking here.

For resources on how to beat your porn addiction, check outXXX Church.

For an honest conversation and information on improving your marriage and intimacy, check out our latest video resource,Best Sex Life Now, by clicking here.

About the Author: Ashley Willis is a wife and mom of four boys who together with her pastor husband, Dave, foundedStrongerMarriages.organd the Marriage app as a way to encourage couplesto build stronger marriages. You can follow Ashleys blog on Patheos where she encourages women in faith, marriage and motherhood.

Read more: http://www.faithit.com

[trendingnewsb]

MIA: This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me

Maya Arulpragasam is bringing dancehall, hip-hop and grime to this years Meltdown. Is the outspoken British Sri Lankan the best argument for positive cultural appropriation?

The Guardian said that you couldnt shag to my record. As conversational openers go, MIAs beats the banal niceties of, say, Hello, how are you doing?. Its no surprise that she charges straight into a chat about why her last album was considered too confrontational for the bedroom by this paper. Its an icebreaker moulded to MIAs very own design: abrasive, compelling, underpinned by sex. Yeah, she finally concedes with a grin when I suggest we move past it, you cant have it all, can you?

Its a theme she warms up to when we talk about her edition of Meltdown at the Southbank Centre, which were ostensibly here to discuss. Usually, I wouldnt do something like this, she says, slouched under an oversized khaki coat dress. [But the organisers] were like: Hey, you can do whatever you want. Still, putting on the South Banks annual festival, curated in previous years by the likes of David Bowie, David Byrne and Patti Smith, has turned out to be a fairly arduous affair for MIA who says she doesnt do computers at the moment.

They didnt tell me it was nine days long. I thought it was a weekend. And then all my lists were, like, Well, this person wont be in London and that person is doing Glastonbury. Organising festivals is actually really complicated, she stresses. It wasnt just about dreaming something and then it appeared. Programming literally means, like, programming.

For all that Maya Arulpragasam didnt quite know what she was letting herself in for, one suspects the Southbank Centre didnt either; logistics aside, the mornings photoshoot has already been met with some flapping from the press officer made nervous by MIA climbing on the roof without safety clearance. Still, her lineup dancehall, Brooklyn hip-hop, depressive Swedish rap and Nigerian grime is perhaps the most underground the festival has seen in its 24 years. How much is she expecting to shake up its comfortable concert halls, cafe bars and conference-room spaces?

Click here to watch the video for last years Go Off.

When I was a teenager in London, I would just get a Travelcard and go somewhere, explore the city and go to weird places, she says. I would never judge the place, like, This is middle class and white. This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me, but there wasnt ever a limit on where I could go or what I could do.

A long, elliptical digression on London then and now follows, which takes in the optimistic multiculturalism of the 90s, Tamil house parties, empire and British identity. Its the bento box of an MIA interview: individually contained ideas that dont obviously bleed into one another and yet, overall, make a collective sense if youre prepared to go with it. Thats the key thing about MIA: you have to be willing to go with her to properly get her. Given that she still looks and sounds like a beautiful, bratty, art-school upstart and is prone to labyrinthine tangents, its easy to portray her as inarticulate or unhinged. But MIAs intelligence is instinctive rather than intellectual, and fuelled by the political.

The Mehrabian maxim that reckons that only 7% of communication is verbal is one that might best be proven by the transcript of a chat with MIA removed of all tone, attitude, context and body language. Take, for instance, her explanation of why only the future remains relevant:

As humans, we dont use our past and our history to work out the importance of what our role is in the present, she says. And if you cant use the past to define your present, then it should not be an element that holds back the future. Greece is a perfect example. More than Britain, they were brought to their knees, and not a single white country thought about saving them. And it was part of their heritage. Its where their mythology comes from or their concept of capitalism and democracy comes from. Nobody cared, everybody cared about the modern. Right?

Kim Kardashian is actually more powerful than Greece. She has more money than the whole of Greece, she continues. Therefore, thats where the power lies. If you then define it that way, then you kind of just have to live with that. And maybe whats happening in modern society: that if youre going to judge it by that, then other countries are gonna come in and define the future.

In print, its a statement that seems lacking in logic and coherence. In the moment, Im fairly sure Im able to follow her and we go on to consider how and where this future is being defined (for the record: You cant ignore the fact that China is going to be doing their thing in the next 50 years) and how Arulpragasam believes the immigration issue has become a red herring covering up a truth that can explain the American and British swing to conservative populism.

With Brexit, the idea was to get away from Europe and reinvent our identity, she says. And really, that identity was going to be American, but then they gave us Trump! So, everyone now is like, Oh shit, what is Britain? Are we going to rewind back to the 1800s? We cant. Its too late for that. So, going forward, we need a charismatic leader who then va va vooms the British identity. And we dont have that either.

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted … MIA. Photograph: Stephanie Sian Smith/The Guide

The prime minister has called a snap election on the day we meet. Does MIA have any faith in our political system? Or in the left?

Everyone keeps going, Corbyn cant do this, but its, like, well, who else is there? she says. If people just left him alone to actually do the job and actually gave him some support, maybe hed be different. Treating him with so much contempt fighting that takes all his energy. How the fuck do you expect him to do interesting things? In any case insists the estranged daughter of a Tamil revolutionary, politicians are people who couldnt get jobs somewhere else.

MIAs politics, unwieldy and unslick though they may be, have often made her an easy target for tedious sneering in the press; the most insistent narrative is that, like Banksy, shes big on arch, subversive statement but lacks substance. Or that she is a hypocrite for making herself the poster girl for the worlds most marginalised people. And yet, shes one of the best pop stars Britain has ever produced. For all the ear-clanging experimentation of her five albums, MIA has always kept a sleeve full of pop bangers Bucky Done Gun, Paper Planes, Bad Girls, Finally that have sounded like little that came before or since her. Even if she didnt have the tunes, here is an art-school refugee Sri Lankan single mother with a visual aesthetic co-opted by everyone from Vetements to Versace who was born into political rebellion and revels in controversy. Gleefully gauche and carefree, MIA is the best argument for when cultural appropriation works. Bland singer-songstress beloved of Radio 2 playlists she isnt. So how much has the criticism bothered her?

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted because Im not, she ays. I just had to fight for shit, and I still do. I just dont care any more. I dont know. She stops and starts. What I deal with as an artist, the media, the public persona, its a walk in the fucking park, compared to how confusing the universe really fucking is. Theres so much beauty in it and theres so much mystery, theres so much confusing shit in it. That is way more interesting to think about than why, like, Patricia hates me. You know what I mean? I laugh. Its like, Who the fuck is Patricia? and How can Patricia say this shit about me?. It just does not matter to me at all.As it is, she says shes most preoccupied with how to be a functioning grown up, an adult and a mother to an eight-year-old son (whose father Benjamin Bronfman is son to the billionaire heir of the Seagram fortune) born into immense privilege.

When the war came to an end in Sri Lanka in 2009, it actually did affect me, she explains. Everyone was, like, What the fuck does she know? Shes, like, a pop star, but that was my life. It was 50% of who I was, it was my identity. I didnt know what to do with myself. So I had a kid. Its the year the cause died, but the year my personal cause my son was born. And then, OK, I have to figure out what to do in very small parameters: I have a son, how is he going to see his grandma, am I going to make it there on Saturday? Can I make sure that I dont mess up his head by being depressed about certain things?

She struggles to reconcile her upbringing poor and living in Sri Lanka for her childhood to poor and living on a council estate in Mitcham, south London, in her adolescence with her sons. Im not very straightforward as an immigrant. That whole My kids would never see the pain that I saw; Im not like that. Im totally up for reintroducing him to the pain. I dont have any qualms about that. Her problems havent changed, she says, because of money or better circumstances. Whether Im in a mansion or a council flat, I would feel the same anxiety waking up going: I need to write this thing in a scrapbook, wheres my notepad? I would still have all those problems. I might still overcook the fish fingers. Those things are not going to magically transform because your house has changed. At the beginning I thought that money couldve saved my family. Very quickly I realised that money is not the thing.

Her conflict in wanting to being huge and commercial versus credible and ahead of the curve has been a persistent tension threaded through MIAs career. When I got into the music game, it was never an option to shut up and make lots of money. she says. To be a huge pop star, I would have to be, like, Yes, I think bombing Afghanistan was a great idea, I love our democracy and what it has achieved. I love the American flag and Im going to make a jumpsuit out of it. I just think it was important to have all of those Arab Springs, and its great and lets drink Coca-Cola. I had to do that, and do it all in a thong. Could I have done that if it meant that my mum had the nicest house in Chiswick by the river?

Click here to se the video for MIAs Bad Girls.

Does she worry about money now? If youre preaching living within your means, you have to, to some extent. But I also know that if youre someone in society that speaks out about injustice or political issues, one of the things that happens is that you get economically punished, 100%. I take that hit all the time.

The most recent, obvious example was MIA being forced to quit her headline slot at Afropunk last year, following a contentious quote in which she asked in an interview why Beyonc and Kendrick Lamar might not discuss why Muslim lives matter or Syrian lives matter. I dont regret [raising the issue], she says, with triumphant chutzpah. You saw how bad it was. And the Muslim ban didnt happen just with Trump, it was already happening under Obama. But you couldnt say that about him, you couldnt say that he introduced the Muslim ban, or banned seven different countries, or was already monitoring people, or dropped more bombs than Trump has. In truth, Obamas administration did identify the seven countries on Trumps list for additional screening measures, but it didnt bar their nationals. Shes already skipped ahead. The quantity of damage cant be quantified right now, she insists. Well have to wait the four years. After eight years of Obama, we kind of knew [his failings], but we just werent allowed to say them because he was so great. He was better than any person in Hollywood that I wouldve watched. He was really likable and just had loads of swag. That doesnt mean that you have to deny the truth, though.

This (and much more) comes moments after she tells me she has no time for opinions these days. She claims she doesnt read the news any more and that her primary sources for information are customers at the local kebab shop, taxi drivers and then sort of figuring it out. What about the state of the world? MIAs moment as an agitprop pop activist has never seemed more potent. Politics? I have no time for these things because Im so stuck in the zone. Ive become a hermit. [Meltdown] is actually giving me the chance to actually go out and meet people again. Ive gone for weeks without talking to a person, I do that happily. I tell her I dont believe her, as I suspect it would be a recipe for her to go fully barmy.

Im actually quite an extreme person, so I dont see that as madness. I see that as, like, solitude, doing a phase of solitude is not that bad. After declaring her fifth album AIM to be her final one, shes also trying to find new ways to channel her creativity. Im trying to write a film. I havent stepped into it yet because I want it to be good. Once you hit the start button you cant really stop it. She has, she tells me, the added complication of ADD to contend with. When was that diagnosed? I just have it. Dont even need diagnosis, its a waste of time, its a waste of the NHS. In truly blithe MIA style, she adds: Its just when you have too many ideas and not enough ways to get them out.

MIAs Meltdown is at the Southbank Centre, SE1, 9-18 June

Read more: http://ift.tt/2rBtxTD

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2rbYbGf via Viral News HQ

[trendingnewsb]

MIA: This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me

Maya Arulpragasam is bringing dancehall, hip-hop and grime to this years Meltdown. Is the outspoken British Sri Lankan the best argument for positive cultural appropriation?

The Guardian said that you couldnt shag to my record. As conversational openers go, MIAs beats the banal niceties of, say, Hello, how are you doing?. Its no surprise that she charges straight into a chat about why her last album was considered too confrontational for the bedroom by this paper. Its an icebreaker moulded to MIAs very own design: abrasive, compelling, underpinned by sex. Yeah, she finally concedes with a grin when I suggest we move past it, you cant have it all, can you?

Its a theme she warms up to when we talk about her edition of Meltdown at the Southbank Centre, which were ostensibly here to discuss. Usually, I wouldnt do something like this, she says, slouched under an oversized khaki coat dress. [But the organisers] were like: Hey, you can do whatever you want. Still, putting on the South Banks annual festival, curated in previous years by the likes of David Bowie, David Byrne and Patti Smith, has turned out to be a fairly arduous affair for MIA who says she doesnt do computers at the moment.

They didnt tell me it was nine days long. I thought it was a weekend. And then all my lists were, like, Well, this person wont be in London and that person is doing Glastonbury. Organising festivals is actually really complicated, she stresses. It wasnt just about dreaming something and then it appeared. Programming literally means, like, programming.

For all that Maya Arulpragasam didnt quite know what she was letting herself in for, one suspects the Southbank Centre didnt either; logistics aside, the mornings photoshoot has already been met with some flapping from the press officer made nervous by MIA climbing on the roof without safety clearance. Still, her lineup dancehall, Brooklyn hip-hop, depressive Swedish rap and Nigerian grime is perhaps the most underground the festival has seen in its 24 years. How much is she expecting to shake up its comfortable concert halls, cafe bars and conference-room spaces?

Click here to watch the video for last years Go Off.

When I was a teenager in London, I would just get a Travelcard and go somewhere, explore the city and go to weird places, she says. I would never judge the place, like, This is middle class and white. This is a white country, you dont have to spell it out to me, but there wasnt ever a limit on where I could go or what I could do.

A long, elliptical digression on London then and now follows, which takes in the optimistic multiculturalism of the 90s, Tamil house parties, empire and British identity. Its the bento box of an MIA interview: individually contained ideas that dont obviously bleed into one another and yet, overall, make a collective sense if youre prepared to go with it. Thats the key thing about MIA: you have to be willing to go with her to properly get her. Given that she still looks and sounds like a beautiful, bratty, art-school upstart and is prone to labyrinthine tangents, its easy to portray her as inarticulate or unhinged. But MIAs intelligence is instinctive rather than intellectual, and fuelled by the political.

The Mehrabian maxim that reckons that only 7% of communication is verbal is one that might best be proven by the transcript of a chat with MIA removed of all tone, attitude, context and body language. Take, for instance, her explanation of why only the future remains relevant:

As humans, we dont use our past and our history to work out the importance of what our role is in the present, she says. And if you cant use the past to define your present, then it should not be an element that holds back the future. Greece is a perfect example. More than Britain, they were brought to their knees, and not a single white country thought about saving them. And it was part of their heritage. Its where their mythology comes from or their concept of capitalism and democracy comes from. Nobody cared, everybody cared about the modern. Right?

Kim Kardashian is actually more powerful than Greece. She has more money than the whole of Greece, she continues. Therefore, thats where the power lies. If you then define it that way, then you kind of just have to live with that. And maybe whats happening in modern society: that if youre going to judge it by that, then other countries are gonna come in and define the future.

In print, its a statement that seems lacking in logic and coherence. In the moment, Im fairly sure Im able to follow her and we go on to consider how and where this future is being defined (for the record: You cant ignore the fact that China is going to be doing their thing in the next 50 years) and how Arulpragasam believes the immigration issue has become a red herring covering up a truth that can explain the American and British swing to conservative populism.

With Brexit, the idea was to get away from Europe and reinvent our identity, she says. And really, that identity was going to be American, but then they gave us Trump! So, everyone now is like, Oh shit, what is Britain? Are we going to rewind back to the 1800s? We cant. Its too late for that. So, going forward, we need a charismatic leader who then va va vooms the British identity. And we dont have that either.

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted … MIA. Photograph: Stephanie Sian Smith/The Guide

The prime minister has called a snap election on the day we meet. Does MIA have any faith in our political system? Or in the left?

Everyone keeps going, Corbyn cant do this, but its, like, well, who else is there? she says. If people just left him alone to actually do the job and actually gave him some support, maybe hed be different. Treating him with so much contempt fighting that takes all his energy. How the fuck do you expect him to do interesting things? In any case insists the estranged daughter of a Tamil revolutionary, politicians are people who couldnt get jobs somewhere else.

MIAs politics, unwieldy and unslick though they may be, have often made her an easy target for tedious sneering in the press; the most insistent narrative is that, like Banksy, shes big on arch, subversive statement but lacks substance. Or that she is a hypocrite for making herself the poster girl for the worlds most marginalised people. And yet, shes one of the best pop stars Britain has ever produced. For all the ear-clanging experimentation of her five albums, MIA has always kept a sleeve full of pop bangers Bucky Done Gun, Paper Planes, Bad Girls, Finally that have sounded like little that came before or since her. Even if she didnt have the tunes, here is an art-school refugee Sri Lankan single mother with a visual aesthetic co-opted by everyone from Vetements to Versace who was born into political rebellion and revels in controversy. Gleefully gauche and carefree, MIA is the best argument for when cultural appropriation works. Bland singer-songstress beloved of Radio 2 playlists she isnt. So how much has the criticism bothered her?

People thinking that Im a bitch is totally unwarranted because Im not, she ays. I just had to fight for shit, and I still do. I just dont care any more. I dont know. She stops and starts. What I deal with as an artist, the media, the public persona, its a walk in the fucking park, compared to how confusing the universe really fucking is. Theres so much beauty in it and theres so much mystery, theres so much confusing shit in it. That is way more interesting to think about than why, like, Patricia hates me. You know what I mean? I laugh. Its like, Who the fuck is Patricia? and How can Patricia say this shit about me?. It just does not matter to me at all.As it is, she says shes most preoccupied with how to be a functioning grown up, an adult and a mother to an eight-year-old son (whose father Benjamin Bronfman is son to the billionaire heir of the Seagram fortune) born into immense privilege.

When the war came to an end in Sri Lanka in 2009, it actually did affect me, she explains. Everyone was, like, What the fuck does she know? Shes, like, a pop star, but that was my life. It was 50% of who I was, it was my identity. I didnt know what to do with myself. So I had a kid. Its the year the cause died, but the year my personal cause my son was born. And then, OK, I have to figure out what to do in very small parameters: I have a son, how is he going to see his grandma, am I going to make it there on Saturday? Can I make sure that I dont mess up his head by being depressed about certain things?

She struggles to reconcile her upbringing poor and living in Sri Lanka for her childhood to poor and living on a council estate in Mitcham, south London, in her adolescence with her sons. Im not very straightforward as an immigrant. That whole My kids would never see the pain that I saw; Im not like that. Im totally up for reintroducing him to the pain. I dont have any qualms about that. Her problems havent changed, she says, because of money or better circumstances. Whether Im in a mansion or a council flat, I would feel the same anxiety waking up going: I need to write this thing in a scrapbook, wheres my notepad? I would still have all those problems. I might still overcook the fish fingers. Those things are not going to magically transform because your house has changed. At the beginning I thought that money couldve saved my family. Very quickly I realised that money is not the thing.

Her conflict in wanting to being huge and commercial versus credible and ahead of the curve has been a persistent tension threaded through MIAs career. When I got into the music game, it was never an option to shut up and make lots of money. she says. To be a huge pop star, I would have to be, like, Yes, I think bombing Afghanistan was a great idea, I love our democracy and what it has achieved. I love the American flag and Im going to make a jumpsuit out of it. I just think it was important to have all of those Arab Springs, and its great and lets drink Coca-Cola. I had to do that, and do it all in a thong. Could I have done that if it meant that my mum had the nicest house in Chiswick by the river?

Click here to se the video for MIAs Bad Girls.

Does she worry about money now? If youre preaching living within your means, you have to, to some extent. But I also know that if youre someone in society that speaks out about injustice or political issues, one of the things that happens is that you get economically punished, 100%. I take that hit all the time.

The most recent, obvious example was MIA being forced to quit her headline slot at Afropunk last year, following a contentious quote in which she asked in an interview why Beyonc and Kendrick Lamar might not discuss why Muslim lives matter or Syrian lives matter. I dont regret [raising the issue], she says, with triumphant chutzpah. You saw how bad it was. And the Muslim ban didnt happen just with Trump, it was already happening under Obama. But you couldnt say that about him, you couldnt say that he introduced the Muslim ban, or banned seven different countries, or was already monitoring people, or dropped more bombs than Trump has. In truth, Obamas administration did identify the seven countries on Trumps list for additional screening measures, but it didnt bar their nationals. Shes already skipped ahead. The quantity of damage cant be quantified right now, she insists. Well have to wait the four years. After eight years of Obama, we kind of knew [his failings], but we just werent allowed to say them because he was so great. He was better than any person in Hollywood that I wouldve watched. He was really likable and just had loads of swag. That doesnt mean that you have to deny the truth, though.

This (and much more) comes moments after she tells me she has no time for opinions these days. She claims she doesnt read the news any more and that her primary sources for information are customers at the local kebab shop, taxi drivers and then sort of figuring it out. What about the state of the world? MIAs moment as an agitprop pop activist has never seemed more potent. Politics? I have no time for these things because Im so stuck in the zone. Ive become a hermit. [Meltdown] is actually giving me the chance to actually go out and meet people again. Ive gone for weeks without talking to a person, I do that happily. I tell her I dont believe her, as I suspect it would be a recipe for her to go fully barmy.

Im actually quite an extreme person, so I dont see that as madness. I see that as, like, solitude, doing a phase of solitude is not that bad. After declaring her fifth album AIM to be her final one, shes also trying to find new ways to channel her creativity. Im trying to write a film. I havent stepped into it yet because I want it to be good. Once you hit the start button you cant really stop it. She has, she tells me, the added complication of ADD to contend with. When was that diagnosed? I just have it. Dont even need diagnosis, its a waste of time, its a waste of the NHS. In truly blithe MIA style, she adds: Its just when you have too many ideas and not enough ways to get them out.

MIAs Meltdown is at the Southbank Centre, SE1, 9-18 June

Read more: http://ift.tt/2rBtxTD

from Viral News HQ http://ift.tt/2rbYbGf via Viral News HQ