i really need to get this story done

Thoughts on OITNB Season 5

The Good:

  • This season was a lot of fun. I never felt bored, and the pacing was just right. They made roughly four days (I think?) last 13 episodes, but I don’t feel as though anything was dragged out.
  • Red on speed was fucking hilarious. So many great lines out of her this season. “In Russia, we don’t have proverbs. We have vodka and misery.”
  • Young Red back story!
  • Soso’s memorial to Poussey.
  • The subtle social commentary/anti-gun message in the premiere, where every time someone asked/talked about the gunfire a different American mass shooting was referenced. Needless to say, there was a lot.
  • Taystee taking the fucking microphone from Judy King. 
  • Taystee repeating Poussey’s name over and over. Punching Caputo in the face for not doing so. A+
  • Taystee as a whole was pretty amazing this season, even if she eventually screwed everything up.
  • Linda becoming Boo’s girlfriend for five minutes but then ultimately getting completely fucked over.
  • Piper and Alex sticking mostly to mundane couple issues. Nothing hugely earth-shattering between the two of them. I was sick of the constant forced drama.
  • I feel like Piper made actual progress with her mother, and the fact that particular conversation lead to her impromptu proposal was awesome.
  • Nicky was clean, hilarious, and hot as hell. Couldn’t get enough of her this season, and loved seeing the real depths of her feelings for Lorna. The brief role reversal with her and Red was a fun trip as well.
  • Red and Blanca friendship was an unexpected treat.
  • FRIEDA
  • I could not love Gloria Mendoza more if I tried.
  • Alison was fleshed out, and I’m really starting to love her as a character.
  • Piper being a Slytherin, headcanon confirmed. 
  • Caputo being a badass in his negotiations with Fig. 
  • Chang peacing out. 
  • Ending the season with The Cinematic Orchestra’s “To Build a Home” – a better song choice doesn’t exist. I have always associated that song with this show. Bravo. The last five minutes gave me chills.
  • Cindy singing Suzanne to sleep, then later Cindy hugging Suzanne, apologizing, crying. I loved it.

The Bad:

  • I feel like the overall message with Suzanne was scattered and poorly handled, and while Uzo did an amazing job with what she was given, I feel like the writing wasn’t necessarily realistic in that it hasn’t been tackled what exactly Suzanne’s mental illness is, purely so the writers can twist her symptoms to fit the plot.
  • Unlike most people I’m not mad about the Piscatella back-story, but it felt incomplete to me. I feel like there is not enough explanation there. What happened to Wes? It seemed like given some of what Piscatella said that there must have been some kind of betrayal there. Given that he’s dead, we’ll probably never find out, but I just felt like there were pieces missing to his story.
  • I feel like Daya fell flat this season. Her characterization was all over the place until she gave herself up and quietly disappeared. 
  • Vinnie and Lorna are, as always, the cringiest. I guess that’s sort of the point, though.
  • I’m not sure what they were trying to do with the Nazis/Sankey? I don’t know if they were trying to endear us to them, but it felt…weird. Like their racism was purely situational and just seemed to disappear when it was convenient. I feel uncomfortable that they were played in a way that I wanted to like them, then felt horrified because Jesus, they’re FUCKING NAZIS
  • Black Lattes Matter would never be a meme
  • Sophia disappearing halfway through the season. Seriously? Her helping in medical was awesome. I would’ve loved to have seen more of that.

The Ugly:

  • Coates x Pennsatucky makes my fucking skin crawl. How can this be a thing? Why is this a thing? WHY IS SHE PAIRED WITH HER RAPIST AND WHY IS IT PORTRAYED AS CUTE?
  • The general rapeyness of how most of the male hostages were treated, mainly Stratman, Josh, and Luschyek. It dehumanized a lot of the girls for me and made me really uncomfortable.
  • Adding onto that: Angie and Leanne have become way too much. “I’ve raped guys before, and I could tell that was genuine.” What the fuck? Why did this need to be in there? I don’t understand how we are ever supposed to have any sympathy for these two ever again. Which is a shame with Leanne, because she has one of the more interesting back stories on the show.
  • Watching the guy who raped Wes Driscoll get burned alive was something I could’ve done without seeing. Hearing his screams would’ve been enough to get the point across.
  • Humps was creepy when he was alive, creepy when he was dying, and creepy upon death. Not sad to see him go. 
  • Piscatella torturing Red in front of her girls…Alex’s arm getting snapped…that whole episode was amazingly handled, but it was still really difficult to watch.
  • Caputo getting trapped in the POO for so long was really gross and disturbing. The man was literally locked in a piss/shit/puke filled porta-potty for days in what I’m pretty sure is summer or early autumn. 
  • Seriously, all of those guards are going to be permanently traumatized. What they were put through is sick.

TL;DR: This has been one of my favorite seasons yet, fun and brilliant, even if there’s an unfortunate amount of it I desperately wish I could un-see, and I feel some of it should have been handled differently. 

I'm just doing what you said boss!

First time poster; be gentle. P.s. this is going to be pretty long. Tl:Dr at the bottom.

Set up; I work at a big box retail store. Like the biggest. You know the one. And I’m a customer service manager. My job has a lot of responsibilities, and as the closer I have an extra one. My shifts are 2-11, with an hour lunch at 6 (usually 730).

As the closer, it’s my responsibility to pull all but a couple register tills in the store every night by 9pm (I would have to start at 8 for this) and by 10 I needed to have a certain set of registers set up for 3rd shift, because at midnight it’s a new day and this is how they keep track of sales.

Seems simple enough, right?

Now, keep in mind, after 9pm, the mid shift csm leaves. So it’s just me until 10 when 3rd shift comes in.

Well, when we pull the tills, we bring them into our Cash Office (CO) and then we put them into this monstrous machine. This isn’t usually a problem as there is generally two of us until 9pm.

That is where the issue lies. Starting at 9, we have an hour to set up 16 register tills. Half of which are the 8 self check outs we have at our store. Each non self-check till take a about 3 minutes each, so around a half an hour. The self check outs take about 4 minutes each, about another half hour. So you would usually get done right before 10. Now, this is assuming you are completely uninterrupted and can progress non-stop.

Except anyone with retail management experience knows that that’s not how it works. Most days, I could get the 8 non-self checks done in between. That wasn’t good enough though. I needed to do them all, and if I didnt, it would be a write up every time until I was doing it right.

But it didn’t stop there. Our asset protection(AP) team realized we had to leave the new tills sitting on a shelf in the CO to go help customers and cashiers. This was unacceptable. So we were told that we could no longer leave the CO if there were tills out.

Sure. So, the next night, 9pm rolls around and I start making tills. About 5 minutes in, my little palm pilot goes off, telling me someone needs help. So I radio management and have the following conversation;

“Hey, CSM Clockworktank here, would someone be able to come up and grab the training question on register x?”

The Assistant Manager (ASM) for the night; “why can’t you get it?”

“I have tills out in the CO, I can’t leave them in here”.

“Oh. Okay we’ll I guess I’ll be right up”

I thank them and continue my business, and again another person needs help so I call again. This goes on for the entire hour, about every 5 minutes. At one point i call to have someone send one of my cashiers to their break, as I’m still in the CO.

10 comes around, I finish up, 3rd shift comes in and I spend my next hour sitting in the CO because I can’t leave the room.

Shift ends, I come back the next day to an email;

“When setting up tills, instead of calling for management to come up and answer questions, put all the tills in "big blue”(A wagon type thing that’s meant to hold the tills. It used to lock, but someone broke it) and management can put it into accounting for you until you need it again.“

Sure. No problem.

So, as usual, a few minutes after I start setting up, the palm pilot goes off. I call thr ASM and they come put it into the accounting office for me. I help that person, come back to the CO, set up another couple of tills before the palm pilot goes off again, so I call management up again so I can put these tills in the accounting office too.

While up there with me, the ASM says "This is ridiculous, how am I suppose to get anything done if I have to constantly come up here?”

To which I respond “talk to AP, they made this rule.”

I came back the next day and MY manager pulls me into the office and starts asking me why the other managers are frustrated and saying that I can’t run the front end and that it shouldn’t be this bard for me to manage things on my own.

I tell her that I’m by myself at night, and that I can’t leave the CO with tills out, by hers and AP’s orders, so I have to call management because for an hour I’m constantly making new tills.

I’m just doing what you told me to do boss.

Before I left for that day, I checked my email again.

“We’ll be scheduling two closers starting next week.”

TL:DR - I’m a front end manager at a big box store. When I make the new registers at night, it takes about an hour and I can’t leave the office so they tell me to call management when someone on the front end needs help. The closing management can’t get anything done for an hour so they complain to my manager. I tell her I’m just doing what she told me to do. They hire another front end manager to work nights with me so management doesn’t have to come up.

Sorry if this is terrible or isn’t really malicious compliance. Also I feel like I rambled on.

Sorry.

4

aaaand the trial ran out, so that’s all folks! I didn’t have enough time to do her post-LoE outfit, but I did get her ponytail in. @_@

I thought she’d be really easy because I already had regular Twi done, but then I went “no obviously she needs three different hairstyles and all this stuff for her glasses” and, well, here we are. everything took longer than I thought it would = story of my life.

reminder: if you’re going to post these elsewhere, please be considerate about it – nobody likes image spam. :( thank you!!

Things I've done/said while writing

• “Oh my God this is taking too long, just shut up and get to the fucking place already.”

• Forgets I have the power to make the characters get to the fucking place already

• Constantly checks word count to see if I’ve written as much or more than I had for the last chapter

• Opens doc and rereads to remember what I was planning to write and can never remember what I was planning to write

• Opens doc and immediately closes it

• Looks over already published chapters for inspiration and feel part of my soul die when I see it’s ridden with typos

• Dad: “What are you working on?” Me: “..A story?” Dad: “Oh! When do you plan on letting me read it?” Me: “I’m lying, I’m talking to a friend.”

• Panics after I’ve closed the doc without saving, forgetting that I use Google Docs

• Forgets how to spell the word ‘wet’

• “Can I say a character tied her hair into a ponytail? Are ponytails in fantasy settings still ponytails?”

• “Why can’t I just write this part already? I really want to write this part.”

• “How many times can I mention this story to my friends before I get them to read it or make them annoyed by it?”

• Looks up definition of a word several times just to make sure it means what I think it means

Dating Castiel Would Include:

Originally posted by subcas

Author’s Note: I haven’t caught up with supernatural because I’m lazy (I still need to watch 2&3) so here is a ‘dating x would include’, this is first one I’ve ever done and I hope you all like it!


  • Cas being really shy because you’re the first human he falls for.
  • Cas holding your hand all the time.
  • Cas giving you cheek kisses and making Dean gag.
  • Cas holding you close when your asleep because he knows about those nightmares.
  • Late night movie sessions to get Cas caught up in his pop culture.
  • Endless stories about Heaven and the Garrison. 
  • And stories of him and his brothers and sisters.
  • You learning Enochian so you all can send messages without the brothers knowing what you said.
  • You teaching Cas how to text.
  • Cas zapping you around the world to see a certain land mark just because.
  • Cas showing you his wings.
  • You telling Cas how beautiful they are.
  • You telling Cas how much you love him.
  • Being Proud of Cas no matter what he’s done.
  • Cas giving you silly nicknames like ‘honey bee’.
  • Making all sorts of angel puns.
  • Cas givng you soft kisses when no one’s around.
  • Laying your head on his shoulder while riding in the back of the impala.
  • Cas telling you he loves you so much.

i really hope that there are no redemption arcs in the star wars sequel trilogy, period. they feel outdated; like, it fit the late ‘70s and early ‘80s in part because it was very fresh storytelling at the time (esp in genre fiction) and in part because of the culture of the era

but tfa was very updated for the late 2010s, even if the basic story arc was still the monomyth (which doesn’t prescribe redemption or forgiveness or w/e anyway so it’s not A Given Just Because It’s Star Wars)

what would be fresh and culturally relevant storytelling today would be accountability arcs

I’m totally open to Rey and Finn and Poe d fucking up and having to be accountable and fix their own mistakes. I’m totally open to Luke and Han and Leia being acknowledged to have made mistakes in creating the New Republic and the new Jedi and being held accountable to fix them. but the difference is… no one ever held Vader accountable. that’s why i don’t believe he was redeemed, too, bc he got the easy way out of his massive bad choices. he just did one semi-decent thing and immediately died. neither he nor palpatine was ever held accountable for what they did.

i think it’s time to leave the idea of absolution or redemption or forgiveness being some kind of inherent rights to feel as outdated as the rest of 1977’s cultural landscape. that shit has to be earned through hard fucking work on yourself and accountability. just saying you’re sorry and doing nothing to change your behavior bc you conveniently immediately die means nothing tbh

i want to see Kylo Ren’s punishments fit his crimes. i don’t want anyone to forgive him just because he asks for it. I’m about accountability arcs. i want him to have to truly, truly face what he’s done and i want his victims to have the latitude to choose not to forgive him, even if he does get held accountable by some higher authority I’m the story. his victims owe him nothing and never will.

our culture right now needs to make accountability the priority of the decade in fucking general. that includes in our stories. i don’t think you can really call any idea a significant part of a culture until it’s embedded in its stories.

Substituting with “anything” (a quartz and rosemary-inspired rant)

Apparently this is the month of me sticking my foot in places I’ll likely regret. But I feel like this really damages the learning process for a lot of witches and needs addressing. So today I’d like to talk about this thing being told to new witches way too often: that they can use “anything” as a substitution if they don’t have X ingredient for, say, a spell jar or whatever.

Can I just say, as someone whose practice focuses heavily on herbal work, how crazy that makes me?

I am not saying spells are set in stone and substitutions can’t be made. They totally can be.

I am not saying that this here fancy spell with all these fancy, expensive ingredients can’t have a more accessible re-working done with more common ingredients. It probably can.

I am all about making spells work for less money, less time, and less privileged people. You tell me what you’ve got in your kitchen and yard, and I will help you find a way to make that into any-damn-thing you please.

I am not all about the elite-extra-special “old way” or some dead guy’s mandates on how to witch.

But when I see, “just use quartz/rosemary instead” as the generic advice for EVERYTHING, no matter what the missing component in question is, it makes me crazy.

What’s the purpose of using ingredient-based spells? No, not just for the aesthetic™. It’s to reduce the energy load on you by replacing it with stuff that ALREADY HAS a given energy, or focus.

So if you remove it and just stick a generic energy booster in there, what’s going to happen?

One of two things:

1. The spell doesn’t work as intended, because you took off a wheel and put a rocket where it used to be.

2. The spell does work as intended, but I’m willing to bet you feel the exact same drain you would have felt if you’d just done energy work… because that’s probably what you did (and a lot of people don’t realize that isn’t supposed to happen).

So while I’m not saying that you’re wrong and your spell didn’t work regardless of whatever generic substitutions you made, I am going to say that if that’s true, I wonder if you’re wasting a lot of materials in your practice.

The purpose of spell ingredients is to use the properties of the ingredient in order to add a specific energy to the spell, which reduces the burden on you to supply that specific energy, and to have highly consistent focus while doing so. If your spell calls for valerian, then there is something about valerian itself that is aiding the spell. You can’t simply swap it with cayenne and expect to get the same results. There are definitely things you COULD swap it with because they have similar properties, but not absolutely anything.

If you can swap the valerian with literally anything and get the same results, that likely means you are not actually using the valerian to help you cast the spell. You’re simply using your own energy and the herbs are set dressing.

And there’s most certainly nothing wrong with being adept at pure energy work. That’s a great skill to have as a witch. But it sure is a waste of herbs if you’re not actually using them, eh? I mean, a lot of these herbs we use aren’t cheap or readily available.

Why not just get rid of the set dressing and save yourself time and money and just do energy work? Or if you like your set dressing, use tools meant to amplify energy work, like a wand or a staff or something?

Also, I think there’s a certain level of damage being done when we tell witches who are trying to learn herbal work that anything is just the same as anything else and none of it matters.

The magical uses of herbs are often tied to their mundane uses. Let’s remember: cunning craft was the mother of medicine. To this very day, the magical uses of many herbs are tied to their physical affects. Even when they aren’t, they’re often a sort of hypersigil, and they’ve gained those associations through dozens or even hundreds of years of thousands or millions of people all imbuing them with the same purpose and energy. Most correspondences have a biological reasoning behind them, or have been basically sigilized by being used the same way thousands of times.

Exceptions and personal correspondences are a thing; I have a few myself. But these tend to be herbs that have been highly significant in my own life over a long period of time, and have consequently become a sort of personal sigil, as opposed to the cultural sigil of most broader correspondences. My personal correspondences tend to be things I have history with (even if it’s mundane), not just literally anything. Basically, I’ve overridden the cultural sigilization, by writing over it with my own over time. But that’s an exception.

It makes it impossible to learn herbal work – which is a totally different skill from energy work – if you’re proposing that none of it actually matters and it all works the same anyway. And furthermore, it’s pretty discouraging if a witch tries that, and then their spell fails, which I see with some regularity.

Witches read that they can replace “anything” with quartz or rosemary, and then they come back and say their spell is doing all kinds of weird stuff it shouldn’t be doing.

Well, I’m not surprised. The original ingredient was there to give the spell a specific property, and then someone told them to replace it with a neutral energy booster and not do anything to replace the loss of that specific property, or control all the unprogrammed energy.

So, the result is going to be a high-powered bouncy ball of a spell that just pings around doing random shit and putting holes in the wall. Because they didn’t give it anything except energy with no focus. Because you can’t just replace “anything” with quartz or rosemary.

That tripped me up for a while, as someone who relies a lot on tools. I’m an empath, and like a lot of drain-prone people, I find using ingredients helps reduce how drained I get by casting spells. Becoming adept at herbal work was really important for me to be able to cast at all with any consistency. I can DO energy work, but I don’t always wanna wind up spending the next day in bed, and that’s where tools help me.

It’s not very helpful to just say “replace it with anything.” That’s not how herb magic works.

Substitution can be done in most cases. But if you’re gonna remove a wheel, you need to add a different one that’s compatible with the car, not just strap a rocket to the axle.

So, long story short: I really wish people would stop saying you can substitute with “anything.” While I get that the intention is to try to make the craft more accessible, it just impedes people from learning how to do it with stuff that’s ACTUALLY accessible. I mean, what’s inaccessible about the stuff most people have in their kitchen? You can substitute for a lot with that!

While it is completely true that you don’t need ingredients to do a spell, it is also true that if you’re going to use ingredients, they matter. If they didn’t matter there’d be no point to using them.

If you find that you can substitute with “anything” and get the same results no matter what, then I think I can save you some time and money: just get an energy working tool instead!

anonymous asked:

What do you think happened after the pool kiss? Like, how did they get home, what did evak do when they got to isak's place?

  • I’m thinking it was a breathless ride back on that bike, Isak holding onto Even’s shoulders, shaking from the cold, the excitement, the idea of living in a world in which kissing boys in pools is possible now, is a thing that happens to him now. Even laughing loudly, throwing his head back and looking over his shoulder like, “did you see her face, Isak? did you see it?” and nearly crashing into a tree. Isak yelling, “fucking watch where you’re going!” but feeling like they could quite honestly crash into five trees and he wouldn’t care as long as he can keep pushing his nose into Even’s wet shirt and smell the last of whatever cologne he was wearing. 
  • it was Isak holding Even’s hand and stumbling up the stairs and Even trying to kiss Isak’s mouth in the hallway but missing, the kiss ending somewhere near Isak’s ear so Isak grabs his face, his hands splayed over Even’s cheeks, gives him three of the softest, shyest kisses, not missing this time, feeling like flying. 
  • it was Isak praying, praying, praying with every step, please don’t let anyone be home, oh, please don’t let anyone be home, yelling out a, “hello?’ while Even’s putting his hands on his hips, feeling like singing when nobody answers and Isak realizes they’re alone, they’re alone, they’re alone.
  • it was Isak throwing a dry shirt and a pair of pajama bottoms at Even, which Even catches ever so casually, then softly excusing himself to change into dry clothes in the bathroom because he needs time. time and space to breathe, to calm down, to collect his thoughts, which is not something he can do if he catches an eye full of Even’s butt one more time. 
  • it’s falling onto the bed, Even pulling him close like this is something they’ve done a million times before, whispering, “you’re so cute, you’re so fucking cute, what did you think when I kissed you? what did you think?” and Isak smiling up, not really answering but asking for more kisses, because this needs to last, needs to last for as long as he can get it to last. 
  • it’s falling asleep to the sound of Even’s heartbeat, head on his chest, Even whispering something about swimming pools and tragic love stories, and not waking up for six full hours, which hasn’t happened since months and months and months.

anonymous asked:

dicta do you have any larry fic recs? nothing specific but just any fic that you loved a lot? thank you, your opinion on fics means a lot to me, and i feel like you'd probably know the really good ones!

Oh my gosh anon I love the wording of this ask so much. I’ve been meaning to make a larry rec list for going on a year but it just feels so official/overwhelming? But this, fic I loved a lot??? I can absolutely do that!!! and aaaaah there are SO MANY!!! I am not as organized about larry fic as drarry fic so this is, basically, like, a list of fics that stuck in my brain and/or heart and that are all so so good. SO GOOD! (and tbh there’s a whole other list of stuff that i’d rec but would want to reread before attempting commentary, and I have so many things marked for later and like….yeah….there’s a lot of good fic out there) And really, what better rec is there than “this is a fic that stuck in my brain and/or heart”?? Everyone should read them all!!

an act of faith against the night by @elianefics- M, 65k - It’s a clear path, drawing itself in Harry’s mind – where they began, how they ended up here. It’s not hard to convey all the events that led them to this very moment, with all of their twists and turns, not when Harry has been going through them again and again every night, albeit searching for something else.  “Did you know?” When Harry replies, it’s a question, not an answer. “Did you know, that it would end like this?” [Harry and Louis had never imagined that, when they would finally go back to New York, it would be as spies.] (part two of the landscapes of war series)

  • The war from ‘a prayer for which no words exist’ (recced below!) is over, or at least as over as war can be for the people who were there, which is to say….not all that over, just taking different shape. I have endless love for the way this fic treats that aftermath, the way it shows how deeply and irreversibly harry and Louis were shaped by being fighters, and it is a stunning mix of beautiful prose and important ethical questions. It also does some really fascinating meta work with Simon Cowell, the Azoffs, and the Cordens taking on central roles in the post-war nation-building project. It’s a lot for one fic to do, and this one manages it beautifully, and throws in some more beautiful NYC cityscapes, heartaching and conflicted nostalgia, and taut but unwavering H/L love, you know, just for good measure.

another hazy may by deLILAh - M, 41k - louis is a terrible poet and harry lives in the now and they have six weeks to fall in love but, really, it only takes six seconds. bookshop meets military meets summer romance au ft. marlboros, the backstreet boys, and underrated literary devices.

  • It’s been over a year since I’ve properly read this all the way and I can still see parts of it as vividly as if it had been last night. Harry’s hair, cigarette smoke curling upwards, hardwood floors, the rhythm of Harry’s feet as he runs to stay in shape for the job that will take him away from Louis, the feeling of seconds slipping away, and each of them more precious for being so few in number. This is one of those fics that made me nostalgic for somewhere I’d never been - except who hasn’t felt as though time was moving simultaneously quickly and too slowly, as though there is something precious that could fall apart at any second? And that’s one of many things this fic does beautifully: gives us the universality of their story, and reminding us of our own.

Auf Wiedersehen, Sweetheart by @conscious–ramblings - M, 19k - Louis and Harry had been childhood best friends, but had been separated by evacuation as the city they grew up in was destroyed around them. Now, twelve years later, they are both back in London, and through chance they meet again. In a time when you can’t admit to being gay, for fear of arrest, admitting to your best friend that you love them seems like an insurmountable obstacle.Featuring boxer Harry and mechanic Louis, much pining, and a lot of post war Britain

  • There’s often a moment in fic where they’re trying to figure out if the other one is gay and/or available, that’s full of a certain kind of tentative hope because there’s some kind of attraction there and what if, what if it was everything they think it might be? This fic takes that to 11 in the most meaningful way, because it’s the 40s, and being gay is a crime, and it’s not a question of whether they’re reading the right signals - neither of them can afford to send any - but of trying to accept that it could never, can never be. Set against absolutely simmering chemistry (the moment Louis first sees Harry in the ring is a thing I’m still not over) and wonderful research and settings (loved the feel of it, the way it all came to life, how present the remnants of the war were as they went about their lives) and fab secondary characters (Niall is a gem, and Liam is so how I think of him, and really everyone was just perfect) and this incredible click where you can feel the ease and understanding between them, feel the sense that they are destined and absolutely belong together…it takes that tension and longing, already at an 11, to a 12, and the ending is cathartic and beautiful and means so much more for knowing how rare and lucky and precious that moment is, and how much they’re willing to risk, and how it’s kinds of risk that are sometimes very specific to being queer in a moment when it’s illegal and how many of them are universal, and how incredible and enormous and moving a thing it is when both kinds of risk pay off.

Don’t Look Down by zarah5 - M, 92k - AU. In which Louis is a solicitor at one of London’s most prestigious law firms and Harry happens to apply for the position as his trainee. And everyone else is around, too.

  • Harry is unbelievably charming here, and it makes total sense that Louis falls for him, and as the story unfolds the clarity and meaningfulness of their connection gets more and more apparent even as Louis is fighting it tooth and nail. But it’s not miscommunication and it’s not self-loathing, it’s that Louis’ reasons are genuinely thoughtful and important (professional ethics!!!!!! With real implications!!!!) and that they’re genuinely in a difficult position and can’t be together without betraying things that mean a lot to both of them, which made me love this version of him even more and root for them that much harder. And I was already rooting for them pretty damn hard. They fit together beautifully from the first, understand each other on so many levels, are drawn together just magically…and then there are these beautiful moments (Venice omg) and heart-wrenching moments (after that dinner and that one morning and then that other one omg) and hold-your-breath moments (what is Louis gonna dooooo) and heart-pounding momebts, and I could not put it down.

Fake you’re full and feel tomorrow by theglitterbee - NC-17, 21k - Louis is a high class prostitute and the best at what he does. Harry is a hard to please 17 year old who wants to give himself completely to another man. [It contains prostitution, d/s, daddy kink, silly banter and two idiots in love.](The one with the text messages.)

  • listen this is gonna sound like a weird rec but bear with me. this fic was one of the first 1d fics I read, and on face is almost entirely made of things i don’t like, and yet, here it is. It did that alchemical thing where it just worked and it did all these things really well - like daddy kink was 100% squick for me before this and it’s still like 80% squick but this fic explained it in such a way that i got it and could understand it and see why it worked for them and what it meant for them and that psychology made it work (and made me get why it was hot? which is pretty massive for something in the squick category). and i was hesitant about their ages but it wound up being (i think not unrealistically) part of a fundamental kind of self-discovery that was part of why things between them felt so critical and important. and i was v skeptical about social media stuff in fic but this one did it so well that i got it and felt like it really enriched the story and showed a particular kind of progress and dynamic in their interactions that needed to be done that way (and wound up being really cool and impressive). and i was nervous about the potential for the dynamics to not work but they are both full people who needed each other in this very specific way and fit together beautifully and it did some of the best stuff kink fics do imo, where the kink reveals something about who they are and what they need and why they work and who they are individually and together, and so here we are, a fic with tags i wouldn’t usually touch, reccing away and considering a reread. this kind of rec can be kind of ~, i know, but the tl;dr is that this fic is so good it overcame every hesitation and left me totally engaged and impressed and invested.

Hold Me Closer by balanceds - NC-17, 36.5k - Louis Tomlinson is one of the most promising dancers of the English National Ballet, on track to become the youngest principal dancer in the company’s history. That is, until forces conspire to significantly complicate his life, including: a surprise ballet, an unfairly attractive guest choreographer, and being pushed into a rivalry with his best mate. Featuring lots of wine, dancing, pining, and a happy ending.

  • I was so surprised when I looked up the word count for this bc I would have sworn it was at least twice as longc there is so much story, and so much development, and so many moments that stick that. Watching Louis come to terms with who he was as a dancer and and person was this beautiful process that was so rewarding to read, and it was unusual and fresh in this way I really want to talk about but really don’t want to spoil. Along the way there is spectacular chemistry, zayn and Louis taking on gay swan lake, so much yearning and despair and happiness and reckoning and growth, an amazing and deeply satisfying Simon moment, and one of those h/l relationships where they make each other strong.

like a boomerang by @youwilll- M, 52k - AU in which Harry gets trapped in a lift, Louis gets stuck in a Wednesday, and it’s always February 2nd. Until it isn’t.

  • This fic is so so utterly charming in like nine different ways. Harry and Louis slot together so beautifully you can practically hear the click, and then they do it again and again and somehow every time feels fresh and important, and through it all the stakes get bigger as Louis contemplates the meaning of their repeated day and all of these deep questions sneak in, and a bit of a mystery, and a bunch of self-discovery, and a bunch of personal growth as Louis learns and thinks, really thinks, about what he needs to do, and realizes how willing he is to do it. It was so perfectly balanced between being gentle and exciting, between destiny and action, between grand gestures and quiet moments, and it settled like a warm blanket and I looked forward to every chapter so much.  And then, at the end…it was one of those stories that made me want to add and place to my travel list because the relevant moments are so well located and satisfying that you just want to be there, and it captured this particular instant - the way it wound sound and smell and how the air would feel and the electricity of it - so vividly. Lovely through and through.

Love Is A Human Right by @conscious–ramblings- M, 41k - The one where Louis has spent years getting over his ex, Harry Styles, and was almost successful. That is until Harry is elected as an MP, and Louis is given the task of getting him to support an Act of Parliament. Through tears and arguments and a heavy dose of LGBTQ+ politics, their lives finally line up. Will Louis be able to forgive? Will they still want the same thing? It’s difficult to let go of five years of hurt, but even more difficult to be close to the love of your life and let them walk away again.

  • This fic is basically everything I want in a fic, but together so amazingly well that I would never be able to put into a prompt because it’s the *how* that makes it so perfect. I mean, politics, check, LGBTQ politics, check, larry, check, vivid settings, check, emotional stakes, check, pining, check, everything, check. But the kicker is the beautiful complexity to all of it, that the story really truly understands the complexity of coming out and why people  do and why they don’t and what it mean and how it works and the ways it plays out in queer communities, and these gay leads aren’t incidentally gay, but engaged in identity and politics in a way that feels true and resonant, and that manages to both say really important things about queer communities and tell a beautiful love story about coming to terms with who you are and what you stand for and how love shapes (but doesn’t always determine, and I love that about this fic too) your priorities. Then add some simmering UST and simmering RST (hot damn i mean really) and viscerally, deliciously painful pining and hilarious side plots (SGIL!! Ziam!! Nick’s guessing games!!) and a background story that had my heart twisting for them from the first and settings that felt so real they were popping back into my head for weeks and just…superb. Superb.

a prayer for which no words exist by @elianefics - M, 65k - “Louis is a few seconds away from blowing up a rather important section of the New York subway when he sees Harry for the first time.” (part one of the landscapes of war series)

  • War!AU in NYC! Another one that I will admit fit my interests beautifully but it’s the execution that makes it work so beautifully. From the second they meet, there’s an urgency and fragility to Harry and Louis’ relationship that is a perfect fit for the politics and the newness of it all. At the same time, their connection is so certain and solid, and whether they’re waking up in the Brooklyn penthouse loft that I am still not over or getting ready to run into battle, their love casts everything else into relief and brings out some of he human consequences to why people fight and what they have to gain or lose, and shows what all they’re risking. Left me breathless in the best ways, and so glad to have gone on this journey.

Pull Me Under by zarah5 - NC-17, 140k - AU. As the first British footballer to come out at the prime of his career,  it helps that Louis Tomlinson is in a long-term, committed  relationship. Even if that relationship is fake. (Featuring Niall as Louis’ favourite teammate, Liam as Louis’ agent, and Zayn as Liam’s boyfriend, who just happens to be good friends with one Harry Styles.)

  • This was the fic that tipped me right over the precipice and properly into the fandom; how could I not rec it? Even if I wasn’t personally attached, how could I not rec it? It’s so bloody beautiful, watching Louis come to terms with the idea of being out, and to take steps towards it, and to see how his interactions with Harry change that and what develops between them. The pacing is amazing, the depiction of internalized homophobia is chest-tightening in the good illustrative moving way, the world is so immersive (like I went to get the link and 20 minutes later I was still reading and totally entranced), and their relationship 100% made my heart sing, in both the big triumphant moments and the little ones.

things have gotten closer to the sun by starseas - M, 49k - it’s strange, making the choice to face his past—it almost feels like he’s heading for the sun straight on, like he’s screaming come on and burn me, i deserve it.-when a solar flare is announced to end the world in twelve days, harry reunites with the people that he used to know better than the back of his own hand.

  • I’m not even entirely sure what to say about this fic that won’t give it away or send people running because here’s the thing: it is heartbreaking. It is worth it. It is sad, yes. It is also exhilarating and beautiful and about why love, platonic and romantic, makes the risks worthwhile, and how we know, viscerally know what is important to us. Real talk pt. 1: read it because I had terrible pms and really needed to cry. Real talk pt. 2: it worked, in that very particular way thar also made me sit and think about who and what is really important and had me sobbing in the best, most cathartic way. That lasting, deep way that’s making my chest a little tight just thinking about it, but that also means that I can smell the snow and feel the frost and see the brilliance of the sun and feel the boys’ love as - more - constant than the sun, and what the heck else could you ask for?

These Inconvenient Fireworks by mdasch and everydayslike - NC-17, 190k - Future AU in which nobody tries out for X Factor but the boys end up finding one other eventually anyway. Louis is a jaded bastard who owns a cat named Duchess and teaches drama to teenagers, Harry is an idealistic aspiring photographer/part-time footy coach, Zayn teaches English lit and wears leather jackets, Liam saves people from burning buildings, and Niall is Niall.

  • this is one of the top ten most affecting things i have ever read in my life. i don’t know how. i don’t know why. i do know that i couldn’t put it down for days and wound up finishing it in a blanket fort on a friend’s couch at 4am, literally doing that feet-kicking thing where you’re so full of feelings you can’t actually physically contain it but have to be quiet and still because the rest of the world is asleep during your emotional revelation. it restored my faith in love and hope. i am still not recovered from the thing on the soccer field at night before the train or the star tattoo or harry taking picture after picture or basically anything about it. clear your calendar if you have to but read this fic and then pls come talk to me about it because like i said i am deeply affected and possibly forever changed.

walk my days on a wire by sunshiner - M, 38.5k - Harry hums, staring at his hands in his lap, and Louis can still feel their smoothness, how solid they were in between his own. “Do you think it’s the same for us? Are we here only because of the likeliness of our jobs? Of our lives?”
“We’re here because we have inventive managers,” Louis says, giving Harry’s leg a little nudge with his knee, but all that’s going around in his head is, I think I’d be in the same spot in every possible universe.  or, when actor Louis Tomlinson used to daydream about dating Harry Styles, this is not what he had in mind.

  • There’s this one moment in Cannes when they kiss and I both really want to talk about it bc it is amazing and really would not dream of talking about bc you have to go read it yourself. So like the summary suggests, they’re in a fake relationship, and they know that that’s what it’s supposed to be, but of course - of course - there’s more to it than that. Like instantly more in this way that you can feel rolling off the screen, that is about sexual chemistry but also a certain kind of very precious fitting together. Watching them see themselves through each others eyes is beautiful, as is seeing how much it means to them to have someone else who understands the pressured of this rarefied, panopticonic world of celebrity, and who loves and validates the ott celeb performer and the human underneath the facade. It’s interesting to read in the context of this fandom, and entirely universal at the same time - who doesn’t want a partner who can love them at their most extreme and most mundane, most accomplished and most afraid, right in the middle of a stadium or right in the middle of taking up the whole damn bed?

whispering of fields half-sown by @elianefics- PG-13, 7k - “And how ironic is it that even now, at the end of all things, Louis’ mere presence makes Harry want to believe that anything is possible again. That the earth isn’t close to collapsing on itself, that the tomorrows are bright and shining and full of promises. Harry hates Louis for giving him something to look forward to when the sky only keeps getting darker. Harry loves Louis for it. ”[All of his boys come back to him in the end, but it’s Louis, Harry has been waiting for all this time.]

  • heartbreaking, lush, moving apocalypse!fic wherein it is absolutely the case that through fire and water and earthquakes and ice, there is one person Harry needs by his side. There’s Liam and Niall and Zayn, too, and what it would mean for all of them to say goodbye, really goodbye, who they all are and what those friendships mean. And Louis. Oh, Louis. My eyes got mysteriously damp in the really good way, and it made me want to sit down and write just to make words like this. The conversation at the end of this stayed with me like whoa, and my chest is getting a little tight thinking about it again. That may make some people want to X it off the list; think twice before you do. This is worth it.

Young & Beautiful by velvetoscar - M, 227.5k - Louis, to his horror, attends an elitist university in which the name Zayn Malik means something, Niall Horan doesn’t stop talking, there are pianos everywhere, and Harry Styles, only son of a drug-addled, clinically insane ex-rocker, has a perfect smile and empty eyes.

  • absolutely beautiful. so vivid i dreamt about it and then went and got a whole bunch of flowers and spent a while wandering around in fancy clothes just because it felt as though i was already living in the story so why not? And how could you not want to be part of this world that is complex and nuanced and subtle and gorgeous (which is not a way i expected to feel about a fic about rich kids btw but this fic makes them so full and the story so engaging that it happened and not only a little). Dimensional characters, wonderful tension, simmering slow burn, complexity, believable and complex psychological motivations,  theme parties, a falcon named cleopatrick, long nights, loaded touches, meaningful subplots, love, resilience. The only possible complaint is it made me want a champagne fountain, and that is not any sort of complaint at all. (lmk if you have a champagne fountain though, it’s been a few weeks and i am really still about wanting to live inside this fic, and also champagne)
Flood my Mornings: Allegro con fuoco

@caitbalfes said: I still have a need for some drunk Frasers, so if anyone wants to write that for me, it doesn’t have to be long or anything, that’d be very appreciated. It’s not Christmas yet, nor is it my birthday, nor have I really done anything at all to deserve it … but … *swallows pride* *gets down on knees* … please?


  • This story takes place in an AU in which Jamie travels through the stones two years after Culloden and finds Claire and his child in 1950 Boston.
  • Previous installment: Fight 

Bostonian friends, plz forgive me for taking liberties. I do know that factually, Symphony Hall doesn’t have boxes, damn them *per se,* but…. well… 

ALL THE THANKS to @drunklander for the venue idea!!! (A Fenway Frolic will follow someday, I promise)

NSFW


September, 1951 

GOD, it’s good to be drunk again.” 

I’d said that FAR too loudly, given that we were in a great bloody swell of finely-dressed folk queuing to enter the auditorium, but funnily enough, I was too drunk to be bothered about it. 

It was our first real night out alone since Ian was born, and we were enjoying it for all it was worth. We’d shared a sumptuous meal and a large bottle of wine and ordered a whisky or two apiece while waiting for the house doors to open for the Dvořák suite that was being performed. Standing now in line waiting to get our handbills, I was positively plastered and couldn’t have been happier about it, to be honest. 

“D’you like it?” I demanded of my tuxedoed husband, somehow feeling it necessary that he be on my same plane of looniness. “Th’drunk?” 

“Oh, aye,” he grinned. “Tis always great fun to see ye in drink, Sassenach.”

Wot??” I rounded on him, indignant. “You’re not drunk?” 

“I’m a Scot, remember? I’m never drunk.” 

This utter lie was reinforced at once as he ran into an umbrella stand. We both fizzed with giggles as he struggled not to fall, drawing the eyes of many a more decorous symphony-goer ahead of us in line. I made faces at them when they’d turned their backs (well, almost-turned, as it turned out) causing Jamie to hastily usher me—though shaking with laughter himself—into another queue and up toward our seats. 

“These can’t be ours??” I said, flabbergasted, for he’d brought me to a private mezzanine box angled toward the stage, decked out with comfortable armchairs. 

“Course they can! Only the best for my lady,” he said, kissing my cheek exuberantly. “That and Tom’s brother has tickets for the whole season and happened to offer these up.” 

“But it’s so—so—” I wobbled around the box in my high-heeled shoes, trailing my fingers across the luxurious curtains. “shwanky…no….swhank…. bloodyhell. POSH.” 

“Well, and so are you, a nighean,” he said, gesturing to my getup. “Like a million bucks.” This last was delivered with such a spot-on American accent, I burst out laughing, making him say it again and again.  

I did look fairly smashing, I admitted, especially for being only five-or-so weeks post-delivery. I hadn’t worn anything so elegant since our wedding, but when Jamie had announced grandly a few days before that we were going ‘to the symphony,’  I’d been shocked enough that I’d taken myself to the shops and risen to the occasion. It was a tea-length gown, black lace over a cream lining, belted at the waist and baring my shoulders daringly, accentuated still more by elbow-length black gloves. I humbly estimated a cool million-and-a-half for good measure. 

Jamie pulled me down into the seat beside his. “Come on, lass,” he said, slurring only a bit. “S’starting.” 

So it was. The lights were dimming and the people below scurrying to their seats. 

I plopped down and twined my fingers with Jamie’s, leaning my head on his shoulder and letting things be a delicious, swimmy blur for an indeterminate period of time as the opening movement progressed. 

“Remind me ‘gain why it is YOU wanted to come to see music?” I asked in his ear over the sleepy oboe interlude, having to concentrate hard on each syllable. 

“Mm?” He jerked, popping his eyes open. “Wha’s that?” 

“You are drunk, too!” I crowed in whispered delight, poking him in the chest. 

“Only a BIT,” he muttered with dignity, straightening. “And we’re here because a night out was just the thing, and I thought ye might like it. And if it sounds like little more than a verra large beehive to my own ear, so be it.” 

“I do like it,” I whispered back, beaming, the whisky making me very emotional about it, in fact. “New World Symphony is one of my favorites. I get chills whenever the brass start up with the—oh—um—oh, you know, the bit where they go duhhh-dut-dut-DUHH-dt-dahhh! DUHHH-duhhh-da-dt-DUHHH!! Y’know?” 

He snorted and fondly shushed me. “No, I dinna ken, but I’ll keep my ears tuned for the dut-duhs, all the same.

The piece was dreamy and epic, utterly sweet, then shifting to great terrifying roars and back again, just like I remembered. About twenty more minutes in, though, my alcohol haze lifted just enough for my mind to begin to wander pleasantly. 

Along with my hands.   

Jamie’s groan was loud enough that I had to fling the hand upward to cover his mouth. “ShhhhhhhhHHHHHHHh!” I hissed. “You’ll disturb—THE MUSIC.” 

“Suzznuck,” came the protest from my gloved hand before I consented to remove it. “What in God’s name do ye—oh—C H R I S T!”  

I hadn’t removed said hand without purpose, now, had I?

He was hard in my hand—very, though he was doing quite a masterful job of acting casual from the navel upward, training his eyes intently on the stage, but his breathing was another matter entirely. “Oh… God….” he gasped, legs trembling as I rubbed and teased and pulled through his trousers. “Sassenach,” he whispered urgently, “ye must st—Jesus—stop that…else—" He hissed as he felt me move away. “Where in the name of—?” 

I’d stood up, quite suddenly, and moved to the side of the box furthest from the stage, sheltered from any onlookers by the obliging angle of the curtains. I put my back against the wall …. and beckoned.

Lost your mind? he mouthed, looking absolutely dumbstruck. He motioned emphatically about. All these people?? 

No one can see, I mouthed back. Come here. 

A glare. Sit. down. 

I shook my head definitively, languidly pulling off my gloves, the whisky making me reckless. I slowly—oh so deliciously slowly—moved my hand downward, inching toward the hem of my gown. His eyes went wide, and I thought he was going to scold some more, but he only watched. 

We’d done our best not to submit to complete celibacy as I’d healed from the birth, enjoying ourselves as best we could in stolen moments with hands and mouths. Even those non-penetrative forms of enjoyment had come with painful twinges and jarrings for me, though, and so we’d erred on the side of caution. Setting aside those attempts, it had been nearly six weeks since we’d last made love properly—and we both were more than hungry for it. 

Though his posture was still proper, I could see the furtive movements of his hand as he watched mine pulling up the hem of my dress, inch by inch, and sliding between my thighs. A groan passed through his barely-parted lips as I found my mark and mouthed,  COME. HERE.

Blazing need in his eyes, smoldering and growing under the whisky’s power. A flicker of doubt and concern as he asked, *….Can* we? 

We bloody well could, finally, and not a day too soon. I didn’t say this aloud, only gave him a look and—with a raising of one knee— a view that answered the question in no uncertain terms. 

He stood suddenly, keeping his eyes on the stage as he buttoned his tux coat casually. He turned and headed for the box door as though in need of the loo. Just as he reached the handle, getting out of the sightlines of the audience, he turned on a dime. An instant later, he was pressing me against the wall, hard, his mouth on mine. 

GOD. YES. THIS

Jamie was a man of great control, when called for. He delighted in tenderness and gentle service, and yet, in times like this, when he could unleash, not least of all after such a long deprivation—Jesus H. Roosevelt CHRIST. 

His hand pushed mine away, and my knee came up again in reflex around his hip as I moaned—quietly, quietly— for what I wanted, and then he had two fingers inside of me and—

Ye feel so good, mo nighean donn,” he growled with soft violence, his fingers stroking points inside and out at the same time making me gasp and moan see stars. I bucked against his touch, seeking more, demanding more, and he gave it. “Christ, to feel ye again—” His free hand moved hungrily over me, lips, shoulders, back, buttocks, arms, hair. The thrill of necessary silence—not to mention the sheer insanity of what we were doing in this revered landmark—had me moving like a wild thing, silently keening, panting like I’d been running for miles. But oh, God—YES—

I gasped as I felt the tremors start, and I sunk my lips into his neck to keep from crying out as the glorious sensations ripped through me. His fingers were still stroking me within and without, his arm around my back tightening, hand gripping the back of my bared thigh, hard enough to bruise. 

As the stars cleared and normal breath returned, I blinked, looked over Jamie’s shoulder…. then started giggling into his lapel. “Not ‘no one.’” 

“What?” he demanded in an annoyed hiss, breathing heavily. 

The oboist—has a mag—nificent—view.” 

He swore under his breath and jumped back, clearly about to beat a hasty retreat toward propriety, but I would have none of that, and was already dragging him downward into the greater fray.

He opened his mouth to protest but I was faster. “On your back,” I said, low and commanding. “Right now.” 

That growl of lust

I was in no mood to tease, in no mood for anything except to have him, and as soon as he was bared, I did, that first rush of contact making us both gasp and groan. SIX. BLOODY. WEEKS.  

My chest bent low over his so as not to be seen, I ground against him, using that extra contact to my advantage, taking twice for myself everything I gave, though I suspect I was giving him quite a lot. It hadn’t been mere banter, earlier—he did love to see me drunk, to watch my inhibition fall away, leaving only the pleasure-hungry beast within. He was watching me now, intently, his own drunken beast out in force, too. Without a single bloody sound, we were ravaging one another. Though I loved him with all my being, would cradle and gentle him forever, this wasn’t making love; this was fucking, hedonistic and violent, and I gloried in it. 

In this drunken state of blazing euphoria, the pounding music seemed to come from within me, driving me to greater speeds—con fuoco, indeed—giving me that feeling of unbridled victory as I chased that wave, higher, higher, my toes curling and my skin igniting as—

GOD

And so drunk was I on myself and the spasms ripping through me that I opened my eyes, met Jamie’s with fiendish delight, and finished him, nearly coming again myself to feel his release and his ecstatic groan vibrating through me with such intensity— 

It truly was too bad that said groan coincided with the very final chord of the symphony. I had to fling myself forward and clamp hands over his mouth as the world’s tiniest pianissimo fermata—incidentally held by only two or three players— faded slooooooowly out into silence. 

I could feel the thump of Jamie’s heartbeat in my body. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

Thump. 

And then, AT LAST, blessed applause. 

“Well,” I sighed heavily at normal volume above the raucous ovation, leaning down and nipping Jamie’s slack lip mercilessly. “Sounds like they enjoyed the show too, mm?” 

anonymous asked:

I've seen 3 way of interpreting the color cover: Death (obviously with how the chapter ended), Loss of Virginity (her offer to Kaneki when he's ready and /or considering sex as a way to get him to stay, and flowers used in poems and literature as a symbol of a young woman's virginity, lastly (and least likely to me) pregnancy (flowers also meaning new life, the red either meaning loss virginity or childbirth going along with Touka offer of sex resulting in a One Eyed Prince/Princess)

do u think this chapter is a death flag for touka?

do you think the blood splatter on the colour page might be hinting that mutsuki might stab touka with one of her knives or something?

Idk if anyone asked this before, but there’s been death flags already marked on touka from the latest chapter and I just want to know you’re opinion and what you think. Considering how the chapter ended, I’m really worried and concerned for her.

Hi! So according to the colored page of latest chapter. I guess you’ve seen the 3 possibilities of what might happen to Touka. I would like to hear what you think about it. I highly doubt that she would die, Ishida sensei doesn’t kill characters lightly especially if it doesn’t serve the story (which I think is applied on Touka right now). Also her expression in the picture doesn’t imply bad thing happening, but more like she’s happy? I mean even if she were to die I don’t think it will be now..

Or pregnancy.

Dude the stain on toukas stomach kinda looks like a ukaku kagune. What if the color page is implying pregnancy?

rebeccastarlight: The blood splatter on the cover page it also looks like she’s going to die from childbirth

I wasn’t really a believer of the cover page implying that Touka became pregnant, but I recently saw a reddit post about it. [You can probably find it on the front page.] So anyways, it talked about the poem Ishida made a year ago, “Her womb smelled like it was burnt”. Bad sign already, but if you go through the translated lyrics its even worse. It also straightforwardly says the children meant to be born, had died. Do you think that relates to whats happening now? ItAlsoWouldLeadToParallelling 

Wow, this is a really popular question, huh? Well, really it’s two and a half questions: 1) Will Touka die next chapter? 2) Will Touka get pregnant? 2.5) Will it end tragically? But since they’re all related to the cover picture, I’ll answer them all here before saying what I think is going to happen.

Q: Will Touka die next chapter?

A: No way Jose. If I’ve learnt anything from all that I’ve ever read, watched or played, it’s that female deuteragonists are IMMORTAL. Even more so than protagonists on some occasions. Don’t worry about the death flags, because this arc will be a parallel of the original Anteiku Raid arc, and you know who had a ton of death flags back then and who Touka has been paralleling since the start of :re? Old man Yoshimura! Who, despite it all, is still alive (if not kickin’). Touka won’t die - it’s far more likely that she’s going to get captured like her predecessor, probably as bait for Kaneki. 

Q: Will Touka get pregnant, and will it end in tragedy?

A: Unlikely. That would require a 9-month timeskip to pay off, and things are way too hectic in the story right now to allow for something like that. The alternative would be that it’s foreshadowing for the epilogue, but it seems a bit strange to do that so early on and before Kaneki and Touka have even done the deed. It’s also not something that really needs to be foreshadowed because it would be part of the denouement rather than the actual plot. I don’t think it’s ukaku kagune since Ishida always draws blood with artistic flair in his colour art, and the drops over her breasts are unmistakably blood. As for the flowers, those are Kaneki’s signature flower, sweet olives, and they represent him.

Where the stillbirth/death in childbirth theories are concerned, I really doubt Ishida would kill off Touka so needlessly in the story’s epilogue of all places, and killing the baby would be equally pointless as we’ve seen Kuzen and Ukina (moar parallels) manage it. As one of these anons has already said, Ishida always has a point to his tragedy; he wouldn’t just throw either of those things in at the story’s conclusion for the sake of squeezing our tear ducts, especially since it would have nothing to do with the plotline of Tokyo Ghoul and, again, an epilogue is supposed to unwind tension rather than wrack it up.

What I think is going to happen

I think the blood on her stomach is indicative of a wound inflicted by Mutsuki. But it’s not just going to be any wound that’ll regenerate in a week - I think that out of jealousy, Mutsuki is going to damage Touka’s womb beyond repair. Since Ghouls have high-speed regenerative abilities, the only way to ensure that the womb won’t grow back would be to tear it out of her body, or maybe even eat it (we’ve already seen Mutsuki feed from bodies, and it could serve to parallel Ayato eating her kakuhou in the original series). Sexual mutilation would fit Mutsuki’s parallels with Torso and Nutcracker, and Kaneki and Touka talking about sex foreshadows that specific calamity more than a general death - especially since we’ve seen how good Touka is with kids in Ch 120. It also allows the aforementioned poem to fit in -  “The children who were meant to be born, died” - referring to Touka’s ability to reproduce being robbed from her. 

So I think sad times are ahead for Touka, but she will live on. And isn’t Hinami kind of her and Kaneki’s kid already?

                                                   𝓛𝓮 𝓢𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓲𝓵


My latest illustration, finally done! x_x It wasn’t really that hard to do once you get hold on the shading. (My finals are coming save me)
Here’s Soar in his prior form! I like to think the altar dedicated to him has this drawing as a mural painting. What a majestic lion :D


                                        ~ zoomed in details ~

Harry Y/N


Was thinking maybe I could pick you up in a few? Just got out of the gym and Gemma wants to have an early dinner tonite.

She mentioned something about it yeah. But I really need to get all this stuff done by tomorrow, H!

What have you got to do that’s too important you can’t make time for your boyfriend??

Do you want me to take off for Paris with you or not Styles? But I left packing till the last minute….that and Grimmy’s coming round for his waffle iron since somebody forgot to return it!

Knew that’s what’s got you so worked up, couldn’t even give me a proper kiss before I left this morning haha should really ™ procrastinating. But leave it, we’ll just get you new stuff when we arrive, it’s not a big deal. And Grimmy can wait, I’ll let him know I’ll leave a spare key so he can pick it up tomorrow.

Maybe I should start sending myself emails for everything I’ve got to do right? Haha And that’s really nice of you, babe, but I honestly think I’ve got enough clothes!

Have I ever forgotten or left things till the last minute? No! Thank you very much. But c’mon. We can get pastries from that little shop you love on our way to Gemma’s. I haven’t had them in a while. Please, angel!

Gahhhh!! I guess I can just pick out a few outfits really quick. You’re taking a shower though right??

That’s my girl! Of course. Can you throw my towel into the dryer for a few? I’ll be home in a bit yeah.

Done! Can you pick up a bottle of wine on your way. I feel like it’s a wine type of night haha

Only if it gets me some hanky panky tonite!

Gonna be too tired and tipsy, my love! But just get home and we can take that shower together.

And suddenly I’m not so sore from my workout! But you will be. Gonna fuck you so hard you’ll be feeling me for weeks.

Oh yeah?

Mhm. Been missing your tight little cunt round my cock. My hand just doesn’t cut it anymore. It’s been too long since we’ve had a proper shag. Gonna fill you up, miss being balls deep in you. Reckon it’ll be a better workout than the gym.

Got me pressing my thighs together, baby. Can’t promise it’ll be the first time I cum when you get home. Just thinking about your thick cock’s got my tummy tightening. Wanna feel it inside me, your red, swollen tip teasing me. Mmmm. Can’t stop touching myself at the thought.

Might just drive straight home now. You know how much I enjoy seeing you worked up, but be a good girl and wait for me, angel. Or I’m gonna have to do the same and tug this one out.

I promise. But get that bottle please, the one Gemma and Michal like.

No more dirty talk till I get home then. Would be embarrassing if I walk about with a hard on. And I’ll let Gemma know we might be a bit late.

6 Things Every INFP Needs To Be Reminded Of

1. The voice(s) in your head can be friend or foe.

As an INFP, you most likely have a rich inner world. Sometimes, this makes it hard to distinguish thought from reality; emotion from truth; optimism from insanity. It really can go either way, any which way… it all just depends on the parameters you define.


What I mean by this is: your mind is particularly susceptible to (over-)analysing and processing the stimuli around you, at any given time — whether you realize it or not — so it’s up to you to decide what meaning you ascribe to it. If, for instance, you’ve got a nightmare boss or frustrating coworkers (not speaking from experience here…), taking a step back to understand that it’s not about you can be life-saving.


On the other hand, this internal chattering can lead to some of your best work, your most thoughtful comments, and unusual perceptions. When you use it to your advantage and focus it on positive acts and expressions, you may just find the universe starts working in your favor.


2. Your childlike energy is just what the world needs.

One of the things I think the world doesn’t understand about INFPs is that, despite coming across as quite serious or “shy”, we actually have a very loopy sense of humor. The thing is, this is generally reserved for our nearest and dearest — we don’t just give away our best accent impressions to just anyone.


If you find yourself on the receiving end of comments about your withdrawn nature (“You’re so quiet” is a personal favourite of mine — by the way, we can also be pretty sarcastic), just take it in your stride. At the ripe old age of 28, I’ve realised that every Joe Blow has an opinion, and what they think of me is none of my business. Once you get that… well, the world is yours, my dear.


3. You need to harness your creativity.

The majority of INFPs tend to be highly creative, and this can take a variety of forms: writing, painting, dance, music, design… the list goes on. However, as generally receptive and analytic individuals, we can (at least in my personal experience) overthink our art to the point where we don’t produce it.


Again, it depends on what the voice in your head is saying — or, rather, how you channel this energy. Because at the end of the day, our minds just work with what we feed them. If you consciously decide to focus on living a creative life, your inner force of expression will rise to meet the occasion. Trust me, it works.


4. You absorb emotions like nothing else.

I feel like this point could also be called “Open-plan offices are your idea of hell”, but I decided against it. A lot (not all… but a lot) of INFPs are also empaths, which basically means that you suck up the emotions around you — whether you like it or not.


There have been days where I haven’t done anything productive at work (holla!) but have come home feeling like I ran a marathon — and it’s because of the immense amount of energy it takes me to absorb, reflect, and move beyond the emotional energy of my work colleagues (in the aforementioned hellish open-plan office).


Once I realized this, though, nothing could stop me. While I still have my days where other people’s gossip, negativity, or just emotional flatness gets the better of me, I’ve learned to create both mental and physical barriers around me.


Mental barriers include (but are not limited to): energetic shielding (yes, I work in personal growth), mindfulness, consciously focusing on one task at a time. Physical barriers: obnoxiously huge headphones, isolating yourself in a booth or some other area with a modicum of privacy, deep breathing. Mix these babies up and you’ve got yourself a recipe for peace and quiet!


5. Your psychic abilities will guide you.

Whether or not you believe in the supernatural, it’s hard to deny the intuitiveness and psychic connection most INFPs possess. There are times when, in my own life, my own gut feeling — apropos of nothing — has steered me in the right direction. There’s also been a lot of weird moments where my thoughts have seemingly sprung to life, as if in a movie; or when, in a conversation, I’ve felt that my comrade would spout certain phrases would and then they did… and then I follow that up with a bizarre look. It’s all a bit of fun!


It’s hard to explain; in fact, it’s probably impossible to explain… but just like a million other things in this world (venus flytraps come to mind), the fact that we humans can’t understand it doesn’t mean it’s not real.


6. You have gifts to share with the world.

At the end of the day, many INFPs are full of talents, gifts, and surprises — but all too often, we keep them to ourselves. We don’t believe in controlling others or bothering them (yes, we’re very considerate types), which often ends up with us erring on the side of keeping things bottled up. This can be troublesome — not only for you, but those around you.


Assumptions don’t tend to do much good, but INFPs in particular need to be aware when they are arriving to conclusions before actually consulting the individuals involved. What I mean is: if you have an idea, a story, a learned lesson that could benefit someone — it’s important to share that. It’s not always helpful to hold back, wary that others may be bothered by your contribution — when it could be just what they need.


Of course, you need to feel comfortable with this, and there’s a lot to be said for taking your time to get things right… but it doesn’t always have to be perfect. It just needs to get out there. Once you’ve done that, that’s when the magic can really begin (oh, and INFPs love a good bit of magic).


These are just a few of the pearls of wisdom that have helped me to understand myself. Hopefully it’s been of use to you — if you have any other INFP-specific suggestions (try saying that five times fast), I’d love to hear in the comments below!


By- Stephanie Murray

Dream Daddy Joseph Spoilers.

Just looked up Joseph’s ‘Good’ ending.

And I’m not going to lie. I am fucking irritated by it.

He’s got, to me, the most interesting story in the game. It’s actually got conflict and interest. He’s married. Yet he’s this good guy who is good with his kids. Who is trying to make the world a better place. Who is in an unstable marriage at best, yet still stands up for Mary if you speak badly about her to him. It’s a common story with people, and I was so here for how it was going to play out.

And every single one of his endings turns him into OOC man from how he’s presented up through all your dates with him.

Keep reading

7 times they noticed (2/7)

(in honour of my salty child’s birthday. Happy Birthday Pidge! I decided to write this from Pidge’s pov rather than Lance, just for a change.)


Pidge was up late again. Whoops. It was something o’clock in the dead of night - though she could argue in space, time was sort of irrelevant - and she was still perusing through Altean history. Obviously it was all in Altean, and she didn’t know that much, but still there were thorough diagrams of the technologically advanced civilization, so she didn’t mind. So time passed and lo and behold, she was still awake, fervently looking through incomplete blueprints of Voltron, frustrated at her inability to understand the scribbled notes alongside the drawings. It wasn’t as if she was tired. She didn’t really sleep much anymore.

As her rubbed her eyes in annoyance, the screen still bright, she heard a faint muffled noise - though she couldn’t really make out where or who it was coming from, nor the nature of the noise. The door slid open as she crept out into the hallway, seeking the source of the noise. She wondered if it was Shiro, knowing that he too had trouble sleeping, but it didn’t make sense; his room was a way away from hers. As she walked along the corridor, her bare feet cold against the metallic floor, the noise grew slightly louder. Soon she stopped at a door, and it occurred to her that she thought this was Lance’s, but that couldn’t be it. Lance always slept like a log - she fondly remembered in the Garrison days, all the boys trying to wake him up. Then she remembered why she was at the Garrison in the first place, and it seemed less fond.

She hesitated, unsure whether to open the door; but against her better judgement, she did.

The door slid open with a sound, and the owner of the room looked up in surprise. Pidge’s suspicions were correct. It was Lance. But he looked different. In the darkness, she could see watery trails down his cheeks, his eyes puffy, and dark circles apparent. Her eyes widened.

“L-Lance? Uh…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say, not really. He just stared at her, eyes wide and hands shaking, holding his knees under his chin. “Um…should I…go?” Pidge questioned.

“Yeah, sure. Sorry if I woke you up.” Lance found his voice, and it was hollow, as hollow as the smile that appeared on his face. Pidge frowned at his careless air, contrasted to his sweat-laden hair, which was uncharacteristically sticking up in different places.

“You…you didn’t wake me up. I couldn’t sleep.” She was uncomfortable; he looked so very different to the picture of ‘Lance’ in her mind. “Uh…are you alright?” Lance noticed her discomfort, and got up, rubbing his hair with an attempted air of nonchalance.

“Yeah. Totally, dude, don’t worry.”

“Um…really?” Pidge played with her sleeves, twisting them around her fingers.

Lance visibly stiffened, dropping the pretense of confidence, his shoulders tightening.

“…” He didn’t reply, tears brimming. Pidge cautiously approached him, arm outstretched, and patted him on the shoulder nervously. He flinched at her touch and she drew her arm back in shock. “I just…can’t do anything right?” His voice cracked. “I mean, look at you. You’re fourteen, and a genius. How the hell can I compare?” He looked to her, desperation on his face. She paused.

“I mean, you don’t have to, I guess?” She bit the inside of her cheek. “Shit, how do I say this?” She grabbed her hair and sighed, wincing. “Like, we’re all good at different stuff, and…well…” She closed her eyes. “Fuck! I mean, I don’t know how to do half the stuff that you do!” Her voice was louder than she had planned, and Lance’s face froze into an impassive stare.

“Like what, Pidge?” His tone was harsh and she winced in response..

“For one, you’re a really good shot. Like, really good. Do you remember when you came out of unconsciousness? And you hit that bad guy perfectly?” She looked to him for an answer, willing him to just accept it.

“Luck.” He stated simply.

“Well, you’ve done it more than once. Plus, you’re actually funny sometimes, though it pains me to admit it.” She raised her eyebrows and Lance smiled weakly, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You’d help anyone out - you believe the best in people. We’re in, this like, crazy situation and you haven’t stopped being just you. Stupid, amazing, you.” She scratched her ear. “I guess.”

Lance let out a short laugh.

“Sorry, I’m not that good at pep talk - which you are by the way. You can just energise anyone around you. But it’s okay to hurt, Lance.” Pidge looked down.

“I -” Lance begun, but she cut him off.

“But, dude, it’s not okay to hurt alone.” She crossed her arms, biting her lip.

“Thanks for calling me stupid?.” He was smiling as he said this, and Pidge laughed in response.

“Yeah, I’m pretty shit at this, aren’t I? But…if you need to talk, my door - hell, probably everyone’s door is open. I mean, like in the dead of night, probably don’t knock of Hunk’s door, he’s probably asleep. But like, I know Keith trains at this time occasionally, so…” She trailed off when Lance scoffed.

“Keith doesn’t want to talk to me.” He looked down, and Pidge rolled her eyes.

“Sure. Now, can you get back to sleep? I know I really should.” She smiled tersely and Lance nodded, wiping his cheeks. “Um…this is the worst question, but, how do you not look like shit after nights like these? I do.” She winced, but relaxed when he laughed.

“Oh my dear friend, skincare cream and foundation do their wonders.” Lance let out a grin as worry creased Pidge’s face again.

“You shouldn’t have to hide it.” She turned around. “Bye Lance.”

The door closed behind her, and she put her head in her hands. Now she knew. She cursed, wishing she knew earlier. How come she didn’t notice before? She had to tell Shiro, and although she didn’t want to betray his trust, this was far more important than pride. She bit her lip. Maybe it was a once-off thing? In the meanwhile, she should really get some sleep. God knows she needed it.


Read the other parts:


(nb as of 6/4/17: Hunk is up (along with Shiro and Pidge) Others will follow! I’ve done some editing to make the conversation flow better, once again thanks to the anon that pointed it out. I’ve edited Hunk’s and Shiro’s will be done soon. Thanks!)

(7/4/17: Coran is up!)

(17/4/17: Allura is up!)

(general note: I see Pidge and Lance as platonic, but you can read into it as you like. Also, all these stories work together, but can be read separately)

winnieleighwrites  asked:

hey! how are you? story time, lol - I have spent about 5 years on this whole series that I plan to publish. all the characters are set, I know what I want them to go through, and how both the individual novels and the whole series should go. my problem is that, even though I write scenes here and there, I can't seem to be able to write at least the first book, to connect the scenes together. most I've done was redo my outline hundreds of times and write first drafts of 2 chaps. help/advice?

I’m doing quite well because of a super-productive meeting, thanks for asking!

I’m certainly impressed by your dedication to that story, but with that dedication comes my obligatory warnings about The Danger of the Story You’ve Always Wanted to Write and Why You Should Avoid Knowing Your Characters Too Well. I don’t mean to scare you or turn you away from your work, but it’s something that a lot of writers need to hear, especially early on in their skill development. It only helps you in the long run to at least be aware of the potential issues.

Part of that reason I stress it for you in particular, is because you haven’t really written much and yet you have this elaborate plan. When you get around to actually writing things, that plan isn’t going to cooperate was well as you want it to. You’ll get new ideas in the middle of scenes and you’ll need to be able to decide what to do about them. Some may change a small detail, some may overhaul your ending. You also may find that your plan has holes or your characters have inconsistencies that aren’t noticeable until you see them in scene form, and you need to be flexible enough to work with the issues you find without giving up. Writing isn’t easy. 

I’m in a wordy mood today so I also feel the need tell you about publishing, since you mentioned that’s a goal. If you’re self-publishing, you can ignore the rest of this paragraph, though it may be an interesting read anyway. Publishers, unless you’re already well-known and popular, do not usually accept series. You need to write your first book to work as a standalone novel with a complete plot, but loose ends are okay and can work as a ‘teaser’ to see if readers really want to stick with your work. The reason for this is publishers want things to sell, and a first book is like a test. If it sells well, they can grant your wish for the rest of the series, but if they can’t market or make money off your product then they wont extend the offer. It’s a common business practice for more than just books, and there’s no such thing as a 100% guarantee in business.

For your issue about being unable to write, here’s a few potential problems and how to fix them:

- You’re probably focusing too hard on your outline. Writing is one of those things where being too rigid can actually hurt your progress, as mentioned in my first earlier link, because that outline isn’t going to create any of the emotions that a story can need. An outline can have lots of detail, but it’s always missing the personal element that makes a scene come to life, which is often what creates that enjoyment of writing/reading.

- If you really have an outline that detailed, then you should already have scene connections. Look at the logic of your plot. You have to get your characters from point A to point B somehow, and sometimes that just means throwing in a time skip. I just read a book that had 5 chapters that took place in a single day and then 1 that spanned the course of a week. If nothing important is happening, don’t focus on it. 

- Related to that, your scenes should have a sense of flow. There should be a logical structure (often cause-effect) that connects each scene to make up a full story. There’s also a lot of things that connect between scenes, like emotions, reactions, etc. If two characters get in a fight in scene 1 over a choice, whichever choice prevails is going to affect both of them in scene 2.

- Here’s an ask briefly covering scene transitions if moving between them is really causing that much trouble.

- Don’t sweat the small stuff. You’re better off alluding to a small event (like a character dropping off a letter in the mail, even if it’s super plot significant!) than showing it. Showing too many little things can really drag a story down, though it’s possible to integrate them into bigger scenes with some skill and practice. Have you seen this ask where I explain the multi-purpose scene? This is one example of how to integrate tiny things that matter into the more important scenes.

- Drafts of two chapters is a start! Now figure out why that’s all you’ve written. There’s a reason you aren’t getting things done and you need to figure out what it is. Is it insecurity about your writing? No examples to follow? No time? The wrong mood? There are so many things that affect writing and unless you figure out the exact cause, I can only help so much. I seriously recommenced reading more, since your question is something that you can see so many examples of in published fiction, and examples are a great way to learn.

I’m sorry I couldn’t give specific advice, but the issue of “my writing isn’t working” isn’t really specific either. I covered what I thought might help, but I’m serious about you needing to figure out what the roadblock is. I can help much more once you know, and it’s good practice to be able to problem-solve with your own writing like that. 

Good luck with everything!

Fic Rec - The Unquiet Grave

Title: The Unquiet Grave
Author: @magpiefngrl
Pairing: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Word Count: 21k
Rating: Explicit
Content: Getting Together, Bodyguard Harry, Inventor Draco, Malfoy Manor, Referenced PTSD, Fic Noir, Gothic Romance, UST, Frottage, Masturbation, Voyeurism, Anal Sex
Summary: Harry had known it would be a mistake to work as Malfoy’s bodyguard. And yet, here he was, in a haunted house with an unquiet grave, a locked tower, and a violently attractive host.
My Thoughts: I love this fic so freaking much I barely have words to describe it. For the Career Fair LJ fest, the author (anon for now) managed to take Bodyguard Harry (which would be good enough, amiright?) and turn this fic into something completely unique. (There’s no such thing, really, as a “little” unique, but the word seems bare on its own when referencing this story.) Immediately upon starting it, the tone is… lush, and a little dark, as Harry accepts a job to protect Draco from mysterious threats while he works on a formula for a new invention. Only there’s a backstory — a history of tension between Harry and Draco that causes this dazzling push-pull between them for the duration of the fic. The sexual tension is fucking thick in this, in pretty much every scene they share, and the way Harry and Draco relate to each other makes me drool. (Excuse me. *wipes off keyboard*) Their characters are so totally them in this — Harry curious and suspicious and attracted, Draco prickly and mysterious and… c’mon, also very, very attracted. But there’s a healthy dose of pining here, too, and… um. Idek if I can properly discuss the voyeurism without losing my total shit again. Plus, the plot!  The PLOT.  It’s so interesting, and fast paced (even though the fic feels almost… luxuriously slow-burning, though it’s not at all), and lends perfectly to the drarry you’ll barely realise how sucked in you are until the end – at which point you’ll be screaming at the story “WHAT WHAT IS HAPPENING OH MY GOD THIS IS AMAZING I NEED THERE TO BE 5M MORE WORDS OF THIS!!!!”  (I refuse to admit having done that. …I totally did.)

Read. Immediately. I’m leaving so much out of this it kills me (the gorgeous prose and descriptions, and the magical world-building, which is a huge story kink of mine) but you’ll thank me for not spoiling too much when you start reading it. I have several others recs from the career fair to rec you guys (the entries that I’ve managed to squeeze into my reading time have been really strong), and I’ll try to get to those over the next few days, but this one needs to be devoured at once. Go. Shoo.  

*runs off to read it again*

Relogging for Author Reveal: the always gorgeous @magpiefngrl!!!

Yuya and Reiji’s VAs speak their thoughts on ArcV ending

What were your thoughts and feelings as you finished the final postrecording session?

Ono Kensho (Yuya): As I recorded my lines, I kept thinking, “The show’s ending!?” It was kind of sad (laughs). But I still gave my all for this final Entertainment Duel. It was very fun!

During the three years that you worked on the show, which Duel do you think is the most impressive?

Ono Kensho: All the Duels were impressive, but if I have to choose one, the most impressive one for me is Yuya vs Yuri. I’ve been anticipating that Duel since Yuri debuted, and when it actually happened, I was like “It’s finally here!” That Duel was basically Me vs Me, and it was very fun.

Do you have a message to the fans who have supported the show?

Ono Kensho: Thank you all for the past three years! I have grown alongside Yuya during those three years. I’m really happy that I was able to participate in a franchise that I’ve loved since I was a kid, and I will treasure it for the rest of my life. Please continue to support the Yu-Gi-Oh series!

What were your thoughts and feelings as you finished the final postrecording session?

Hosoya Yoshimasa (Reiji): It still feels really unreal to me that we won’t have another postrecording session starting next week. I kept wondering about how the story will end as the postrecording for the final episode drew near. And…What do I say…I was musing about how the final product will be delivered after the recording for the final episode is done, and so on.

Do you have a message to the fans who have supported the show?

Hosoya Yoshimasa: There’s always black and white, light and dark, up and down… And sometimes you’ll get what you want and need, sometimes you won’t, but at the end of the day, I think that all of them are still part of a show and entertainment. A world without heart (kokoro) would be a lonely one, so I think it is something we all need. And also, a performance must have spectators for the entertainment to matter. With that said, I would like to thank you all for supporting the show!

Thanks to DMC3444 for the translation