r evolve

anonymous asked:

Is the ask box open? It sins telling me >.<, but if it is closed then please just ignore this message :3. I loved your soulmate au! Could you do one with lev, kenma, tssuki and yama? Thank you so so much!

hey hey hey!! i love soulmate aus so much just hit me up with more characters in the future ~ also i felt a little fantasy ish tonight which resulted into 2 magical soulmate aus ^.^ 

AUs credits to: http://r-evolve-art.tumblr.com/post/144380748003/master-list-of-soulmate-aus


LEV:

AU where whenever you lost something, your soulmate would receive it instead

You were notorious for losing a lot of your things, especially the most important necessities such as: pencils, pens, articles of clothing and when you soon came of age, sanitary pads. You pitied your poor soulmate who had all your items mysteriously arriving on their desks or bed because it seemed as if you lost an item every day.

Your soulmate however, was just as bad as you apparently. He had lost many things as well, and once, he had misplaced an expensive looking watch. You kept them in your drawer for safe keeping in an event where you meet your soulmate in the future.

Now coming to high school, you began losing less things and so did your soulmate. It was a sign of maturity to not lose things and you were proud of yourself for only losing two pens within a month! Your streak will eventually become lesser and one day, maybe you’ll be able not to lose a single thing within a month! This month however, was crucial for you.

Exams were coming up which meant more worksheets, more notes to be done etc, in short prep for the exams. You had a track record for misplacing your notes, especially when you want to borrow them to someone but you’ll never be able to find the. Hopefully your soulmate was using those notes to his advantage.

“______!” Lev, your best friend called as you were walking down the hallway. Your backpack was in front of you and you were rummaging through your bag for the notes you were planning to give him. Lev soon caught up with you and stopped you mid track. “I have your notes!”

You stared at him in confusion, raising an eyebrow. “How did you get my notes? Did someone give them to you? Because oh…”

“Because what?” Lev asked in confusion, scratching the back of his head.

“Did you happen to find them in your bag?” you queried. Lev nodded brightly and soon, the realisation too dawned on him.

“We’re soulmates…”

KENMA:

AU where you have the time you meet your soulmate etched on your wrist

11:11. Of all the possible times it was 11:11. It was etched on your wrist the day you were born and you were often complimented on how lucky it was. However, as you grow older, you started to think that your number was rather unlucky. First things first, it was going to be impossible to find your soulmate which has such a unique time like yours. You envied your friends who had more normal times such as 6:30 or even 4:20. It was much more doable than 11:11.

However, that didn’t stop you from wishing during 11:11. 11:11 always seemed more magical at night, resulting in your sleep schedule being slightly wonky due to the fact you stayed up until 11:11 each night to wish to meet your soulmate. The catch about the time on everyone’s wrists was the fact that there are no specific dates - which meant that it could be any day but at that specific time.

Your friends would often be more alert when their time rolls around. It was quite hard for you due to the fact it was 11:11 meaning it could be day or night. You had already gone through two years of high school, and 1460 11:11s and you have yet to find your soulmate. In your last year of high school, your parents had also decided it would be a grand idea to transfer you to another school in Tokyo, Nekoma.

You were against it at first, but hey, being in Fukurodani for two years and still unable to find your soulmate? It’s time to give Nekoma another chance. You were well versed with Nekoma due to the fact that they had practice matches with Fukurodani’s volleyball team every once in awhile however, it had never piqued your interest to watch their matches.

Dressed in your Nekoma uniform, you watched your watch for 11:11 to roll around. It was your first day at Nekoma and it would be great if you could actually find your soulmate. Soon enough, your patience was rewarded as you were introduced to a new class just at 11. Sitting at the back, it was definitely much more easier to track your soulmate due to the fact you had to walk through a row of people.

Staring at your watch, when 11:11 rolled around, your watched beeped in announcement and you felt your wrist burn slightly. Someone next to you hissed softly in pain and you stared at the blonde haired boy next to you. He had chin length hair and his roots were stark black against the blonde. Nevertheless, he had a sort of ethereal beauty around him.

“I’m ______. And I’m assuming your wrist hurts?” you introduced yourself, taking the empty seat next to him.

He gave a small smile and nodded. “Kozume Kenma.”

There was something interesting about this Kozume Kenma, and you were willing to find out.

TSUKISHIMA:

AU where only your soulmate can kill you (DEMON UNIVERSE)

There was once a time where demons ruled the Earth. That time was short lived and soon enough, demon hunters emerged from the heavens, and their single life objective is to kill any demon that comes into their sight. Humans are sent to training schools for demon hunting, whilst half demons (meaning half human half demons) lived in hiding.

It seemed as if fate was out to get you the day you were born. You had a demon father and a human mother, and if that wasn’t enough, you were sure enough that your soulmate was human. Living in a village filled with humans, you were constantly on tenterhooks. However, with a demon father alive, he taught you the art of glamour, disguising yourself as human thus allowing you to live with a partially normal life.

You attended a demon hunting school, where you trained with other humans in martial arts techniques, fighting skills and ways to kill a demon. You would often be on the edge in classes but soon enough, time passed and you were about to graduate when your cover was blown. For a second, your glamour fell, due to your weak state (at that time you were sick) and your identity as a demon was exposed. You ran into hiding because being caught by the government would result in an eternity of suffering, as your soulmate was the only one who was able to kill you.

As of now, you were hiding in an old abandoned shack, hoping that this new hiding place wouldn’t be discovered as quickly as the others. Your expectations were short lived when the door creaked open and in stepped in a human. Your breath hitched and you switched on your glamour, pretending to be asleep when the human entered. Peeking up, you noticed he was a tall, lanky blonde with glasses, katana blades made of silver on his back and a silver dagger poised in front of him.

“I know you’re here, reveal yourself,” he demanded, however, in a rather dull tone, as if he couldn’t really care if he killed you or not. You strengthened your glamour, which took up quite a lot of your energy but it was this a life or death situation. A strengthened glamour often resulted in moments of invisibility but they don’t last very long and was never opted by any demon. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he taunted, throwing a silver knife in your direction, narrowly missing your ear.

Your glamour faulted and you reappeared again, to make eye contact with the demon hunter. At first, he was bewildered however, his cool demure returned. “So, you’re the famous half demon that can’t be killed by anyone, but your soulmate,” he began, twisting another knife in his hands. You could feel energy radiating off him, his aura pulsating in a bright red. “And I’m assuming, by the look of fear on your face, that I am your soulmate.”

You took a step back. “Yeah right,” you scoffed. His aura was getting brighter and brighter and you turned away, cursing to yourself. A demon hunter, really?

“I am right, and always am,” he said with an aggravating smirk. “I have two options right now, to kill you or to let you suffer an eternity under the confinements of the government.”

“I’d rather die than be locked up by the stupid government,” you spat.

“Tsk, tsk, rude,” he shook his finger. “I think introductions are necessary before I kill you right? Tsukishima Kei, twenty-four, demon hunter. And you are?”

You rolled your eyes but played along with him. Anything for more time. “_________, ____, half demon. Notice the term half demon, it means I am not capable of causing any harm to this city.”

Tsukishima took a step forward, his arms still crossed. “I don’t believe you,” You took a step forward, challenging him.

“Neither do I,” and you blew into his face. A demon’s breath could momentarily disable a human’s vision and you watched as Tsukishima struggled to throw his knife in your direction. With a small smile, you hopped out of the shack and broke into the run. Soulmate or not, this was an apocalyptic world, and you were determined to survive.

YAKU:

AU where you have opposite element magic and it disappears when you meet your soulmate (Medieval times?)

Everyone was cursed when they were born. For every person, you were cursed with a different curse and nobody could ever explain why the gods were so evil when creating humans. Your mother was cursed with the inability to talk and your father, the inability to hear. One can imagine how they found each other, when they both realised they could talk and listen to each other. You however, were slightly different and was cursed with elemental magic.

Elemental magic was rare in the community and was shunned, no matter the element. People were always able to find fault with any element: Earth (earthquakes), Water (floods), Fire (it’s pretty obvious), Air (hurricanes, tornados) and the most difficult one, Ice. And you were cursed with Water, meaning you were able to manipulate water according to your needs. One would think it was a blessing to have elemental magic, but it was very difficult to control elemental magic, which was why those who have elemental powers live their lives in isolation.

It was difficult to control and manipulate water, when all you want is a drink or just a swim. Water will naturally be your enemy and you hated being cursed the way you were.

Yaku however, was the complete opposite element of yours, Fire. He could manipulate and create fire, but he himself can never control fire. It was a dangerous element, however, under the protection of gloves, anyone who has elemental magic can be safe (for the time being).

When more elemental magic began to rise, those who were of age created a save haven for these elemental magic practitioners to live. It was hard to part with your parents, especially at a tender age of 12 but it was for their protection. You could flood and drown the village in a day if you were unable to control your powers. The save haven was in the countryside, near the mountains where any sort of elemental magic will be countered by someone.

You had been living in the haven for five years now, and you were desperate for a normal life. You watched as your friends meet their soulmates in this particular place and leaving back to the normal world to live a normal life. To make matters worse, it was rare to find anyone with a Fire elemental power for your soulmate had the counter element to yours. Today however, was special because there were rumours of someone arriving at the haven with fire elemental magic.

He was a short, strawberry blonde man, but you couldn’t say anything about his height because you were definitely shorter than him. He had fire powers and you noticed many of the girls who had water elemental magic as well, tried fervently to counter his powers but their actions ended in vain. You refused to join their gaggle, instead heading to the lake to attempt to control you powers.

“Hey you,” an unfamiliar voice began, interrupting you.

You turned around to see the fire guy. “Oh it’s you fire guy,” you stated plainly, attempting to manipulate the water, You swung your hand, trying to get the ball of water to go in the right direction when suddenly the blob evaporated, leaving behind a cloud of steam and you noticed he had his arm stretched out. Turning your head towards him, you broke into a thankful grin, for you had finally found your soulmate.

“_________.” you introduced yourself.

“Yaku Morisuke.” he introduced with a smile

She is Our Homer

Staceyann Chin gives voice to our collective truth with dignity, power and vulnerability in ways that allows each of us to see ourselves more clearly and understand the deepest nature of our powerful communal experience. I emailed her to ask to post the poem she wrote for our closing circle. Her response follows, and then her poem.  – Lisa Vogel

Photo Credit:  Desdemona Burgin

Tell the women, I am honored to have been given space to speak their beauty. Tell them I exist but only for them. Tell them, without their breath, I would be dead.

Tell them to keep speaking. Tell them, I gather words they throw deliberate into the wind. Tell them, no poem I have ever written would be true without the rallying cry of them in battle for our freedom. Tell them we fight still. Together.  Without end. Tell them we are forever. Tell them, geography and time and space and distance means nothing if we are still talking to each other through the winds of our collected time.

REBIRTH FOR MICHFEST

When the first Michigan Women’s Music festival
happened/in August/in 1976
the local paper called it
an international gathering of weirdos

imagine that first flood of women
pouring into the deep dark Michigan woods
imagine them finding the courage
to stay on the land despite the angry men
circling the perimeter/the only plan
honk your horn/if there is trouble
call your sister/and she will come

that sisterhood has since grown
into a global jungle/from which we all come
sprouting eagle from Kingston and California
slithering snake-like from Scotland and South Africa
howling wolves from Brooklyn and Bangladesh

no matter where we spring from
we have never had any doubt/this place would be here
next August/to recharge us/for the year ahead
in our heart we could not conceive
of the final closing of these gates
and now/as we attempt to say farewell
the center of me is sobbing oceans
my heart broken open/my chest/cracking raw
my ribcage/collapsing
because I will never be here again/like this
on this holy ground
these eyes of mine will never see my daughter
in this place at thirteen/or thirty-three/like me
she will never see it/as I have seen it
open/sky/naked spirits/Amazon women
dancing/round red fires of sticks/and stones
taking back the imprisoned bones of ourselves
and finding new freedoms here

in communion/we mourn this bitter end
each of us/trying to remember/that life is a series of cycles
as old as the moon/as expected as the first coming of blood

we who believe in rebirth/see this period of rest
as only a practice test designed
to help us r/evolve in these complicated times

I ask you to remember that we are trained
in the tradition of doing things/they say cannot be done
I beg you to look again
to the determination of the generation
who built this pussy-centered city
with no fucking internet
no kick-starter campaign/no social media
no legal recognition of the right
to love whomever we fucking choose

those Amazons from that era gave birth to abortion rights
and the equal rights amendment
and rape-crisis centers
and women’s shelters
that movement laid the groundwork
for decriminalizing the entire LGBTQIA-BCDEFG identity

forty years after that first gathering of weirdos/we are still here
because Michfest has always been about more than just music
it has remained a light/at the end of a yearlong tunnel
it has been a promise that has kept so many of us going
in return/so many of us/have tried so hard to keep it going
over the years/we have persisted in coming
insisted on defying the odds
year after economically challenged year
every August/for one week/we orchestrate
this neurotic amalgamation of tarp
and bug spray
and tofu
and Tupperware
this single-minded, slick-wet celebration of flashlights
and foam
these flooded sleeping quarters
these fucking RVs and second-hand Subarus
these butch parades and sweat lodges
is about knowing/with everything in us
that being called a girl/is not a fucking insult

under these Sapphic stars
it’s the highest form of compliment

this place has been a celebration of our girlhood
a recognition of the magic of surviving womanhood
it has always been an open invitation to those of us
existing outside the confines of gender-binary limitations
this place is an homage
to the bra-burning/radical feminists of the nineteen-seventies
they believed they could/not only pick a fight against
racists/sexist/homophobic motherfuckers
but/they believed they could also fucking win

we are still fighting those same battles today
which is why we still need to stand together
against the patriarchy
to stand/to gather
this miraculous gathering of women
is only going down
for an expected cycle of much-needed rest

after all/it has only been four fucking decades
since the young Blood Moon
only 19 years old/with ovaries the size of fucking Saturn
started this shit—radical/feminist/midwife that she has been
she has kept the course for 480 months
Lisa Vogel and the long crew and the short crew
and the cooks from Gals
and artisans from Crafts and the workers at the Night Stage
and the artist on the Acoustic Stage
and the witches from the Womb
and all women stirring the multiple cauldrons
that make up this crazy cavalry
they have been holding down the logistics
of this place of safety for 2,080 weeks
it fitting to acknowledge also
that it has only been 14, 560 days
since you magnificent Michigan festies
have been pushing this impossible rock
up the motherfucking mountain of misogyny

forty years is a very long time/my sisters

as the dust settles on our beloved dirt road
indulge your inconsolable ache
lament/weep/wail/cry all need or want
but know too/the seeds of joy we each planted on this land
will never be dead/instead/the legend of its roots
will grow large inside the heads and hearts
of all of us/who have loved here/and fought here
fucked out loud and without apology here
the memory of it/the spirit of it
will tingle inside the scarred chests
of warriors who survived
breast cancer
and rape
and female castration
and rape
and childhood molestation
and rape
and familial rejection
and rape
and ovarian cancer/and HIV and Aids
and drunken husbands/and human trafficking
and homophobia/and gender-policing
and poverty/and wire hangers
and rape
and rape
and rape again

this year/after we say our final farewell
we will again go home
to stand alongside incarcerated Black men
and undocumented children/and transgender boys/girls
and underpaid women/and all those bodies who remain targets
for the wealthy white bigots who would want everyone
who is not them
enslaved/or deported/or killed

with or without a yearly gathering on this land
we will never stand inside the gender-norms expected of us
we will continue to meet/in tents
in kitchens
in basements
inside convents
and churches
we will keep resisting/and out of this resistance
will come another core assembly of need and opportunity
a door that will push this community to birth itself anew

when it does/it is our duty to be ready
to receive it/every one of us
Lisa/and Judith
and Toshi
and Penny
and Holly
and Elvira
and Thokozani
and Sandy
and Hanifah
after the burning of our holy city
we must do something with this astoundingly beautiful ash
we have to cash in the credit of this place
to race toward a future in which our daughters
and our daughters’ daughters keep demanding
safety for every/body living this planet
this is call for Zuri and Cree
and Maddie
and Ruby
and Zora and Naiobi
this is a call for Zander and Josie and Emerson and Kai
this is a call for you/and you/and you/and me
this call is for all the girls/who grew up here
or came here
or heard about the magic that once existed here
to come together/to continue to fight
to grow up and out/to fucking bloom/and rise
and rise/and rise again
to find our Amazon phoenix spirit/to ascend
in flesh/in truth
let us use this moment to rewind/to reincarnate
to hatch and spawn/new blood
to amplify the ageless power we have all felt here at Michfest
the magic of this place must remain/in each of us
fueling us
protecting us
giving us direction
long after the pain of our present sorrow
is gone

Rebirth for Michfest
by Staceyann Chin

When the first Michigan Women’s Music festival
happened/in August/in 1976
the local paper called it
an international gathering of weirdos

imagine that first flood of women
pouring into the deep dark Michigan woods
imagine them finding the courage
to stay on the land despite the angry men
circling the perimeter/the only plan
honk your horn/if there is trouble
call your sister/and she will come

that sisterhood has since grown
into a global jungle/from which we all come
sprouting eagle from Kingston and California
slithering snake-like from Scotland and South Africa
howling wolves from Brooklyn and Bangladesh

no matter where we spring from
we have never had any doubt/this place would be here
next August/to recharge us/for the year ahead
in our heart we could not conceive
of the final closing of these gates
and now/as we attempt to say farewell
the center of me is sobbing oceans
my heart broken open/my chest/cracking raw
my ribcage/collapsing
because I will never be here again/like this
on this holy ground
these eyes of mine will never see my daughter
in this place at thirteen/or thirty-three/like me
she will never see it/as I have seen it
open/sky/naked spirits/Amazon women
dancing/round red fires of sticks/and stones
taking back the imprisoned bones of ourselves
and finding new freedoms here

in communion/we mourn this bitter end
each of us/trying to remember/that life is a series of cycles
as old as the moon/as expected as the first coming of blood

we who believe in rebirth/see this period of rest
as only a practice test designed
to help us r/evolve in these complicated times

I ask you to remember that we are trained
in the tradition of doing things/they say cannot be done
I beg you to look again
to the determination of the generation
who built this pussy-centered city
with no fucking internet
no kick-starter campaign/no social media
no legal recognition of the right
to love whomever we fucking choose

those Amazons from that era gave birth to abortion rights
and the equal rights amendment
and rape-crisis centers
and women’s shelters
that movement laid the groundwork
for decriminalizing the entire LGBTQIA-BCDEFG identity

forty years after that first gathering of weirdos/we are still here
because Michfest has always been about more than just music
it has remained a light/at the end of a yearlong tunnel
it has been a promise that has kept so many of us going
in return/so many of us/have tried so hard to keep it going
over the years/we have persisted in coming
insisted on defying the odds
year after economically challenged year
every August/for one week/we orchestrate
this neurotic amalgamation of tarp
and bug spray
and tofu
and Tupperware
this single-minded, slick-wet celebration of flashlights
and foam
these flooded sleeping quarters
these fucking RVs and second-hand Subarus
these butch parades and sweat lodges
is about knowing/with everything in us
that being called a girl/is not a fucking insult

under these Sapphic stars
it’s the highest form of compliment

this place has been a celebration of our girlhood
a recognition of the magic of surviving womanhood
it has always been an open invitation to those of us
existing outside the confines of gender-binary limitations

this place is an homage
to the bra-burning/radical feminists of the nineteen-seventies
they believed they could/not only pick a fight against
racists/sexist/homophobic motherfuckers
but/they believed they could also fucking win

we are still fighting those same battles today
which is why we still need to stand together
against the patriarchy
to stand/to gather
this miraculous gathering of women
is only going down
for an expected cycle of much-needed rest

after all/it has only been four fucking decades
since the young Blood Moon
only 19 years old/with ovaries the size of fucking Saturn
started this shit—radical/feminist/midwife that she has been
she has kept the course for 480 months
Lisa Vogel and the long crew and the short crew
and the cooks from Gals
and artisans from Crafts and the workers at the Night Stage
and the artist on the Acoustic Stage
and the witches from the Womb
and all women stirring the multiple cauldrons
that make up this crazy cavalry
they have been holding down the logistics
of this place of safety for 2,080 weeks
it fitting to acknowledge also
that it has only been 14,560 days
since you magnificent Michigan festies
have been pushing this impossible rock
up the motherfucking mountain of misogyny

forty years is a very long time/my sisters

as the dust settles on our beloved dirt road
indulge your inconsolable ache
lament/weep/wail/cry all need or want
but know too/the seeds of joy we each planted on this land
will never be dead/instead/the legend of its roots
will grow large inside the heads and hearts
of all of us/who have loved here/and fought here
fucked out loud and without apology here
the memory of it/the spirit of it
will tingle inside the scarred chests
of warriors who survived
breast cancer
and rape
and female castration
and rape
and childhood molestation
and rape
and familial rejection
and rape
and ovarian cancer/and HIV and Aids
and drunken husbands/and human trafficking
and homophobia/and gender-policing
and poverty/and wire hangers
and rape
and rape
and rape again

this year/after we say our final farewell
we will again go home
to stand alongside incarcerated Black men
and undocumented children/and transgender boys/girls
and underpaid women/and all those bodies who remain targets
for the wealthy white bigots who would want everyone
who is not them
enslaved/or deported/or killed

with or without a yearly gathering on this land
we will never stand inside the gender-norms expected of us
we will continue to meet/in tents
in kitchens
in basements
inside convents
and churches
we will keep resisting/and out of this resistance
will come another core assembly of need and opportunity
a door that will push this community to birth itself anew

when it does/it is our duty to be ready
to receive it/every one of us
Lisa/and Judith
and Toshi
and Penny
and Holly
and Elvira
and Thokozani
and Sandy
and Hanifah
after the burning of our holy city
we must do something with this astoundingly beautiful ash
we have to cash in the credit of this place
to race toward a future in which our daughters
and our daughters’ daughters keep demanding
safety for every/body living this planet
this is call for Zuri and Cree
and Maddie
and Ruby
and Zora and Naiobi
this is a call for Zander and Josie and Emerson and Kai
this is a call for you/and you/and you/and me
this call is for all the girls/who grew up here
or came here
or heard about the magic that once existed here
to come together/to continue to fight
to grow up and out/to fucking bloom/and rise
and rise/and rise again
to find our Amazon phoenix spirit/to ascend
in flesh/in truth
let us use this moment to rewind/to reincarnate
to hatch and spawn/new blood
to amplify the ageless power we have all felt here at Michfest
the magic of this place must remain/in each of us
fueling us
protecting us
giving us direction
long after the pain of our present sorrow
is gone

Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival, 2015.

(Text via the Michigan Womyn’s Music Festival Facebook page.)

8

F R A N K by Bunch / bunchdesign.com

F R A N K is a limited edition typeface designed by Bunch and Alberto Hernández. It was created especially for the rebranding of Cerovski, (a print production studio) in 2013, then developed into a commercial full character set by Milieu Grotesque.
The sans-serif display typeface follows the formal tradition of lathe-milling, as used for modular stencils through a mono-linear, thick main stroke and geometric rounded endings. Following a talk by Assoc. Prof. Eric Kindel (University of Reading), the team were encouraged to explore the subject of stencils further, and after a very positive response to the Cerovski rebrand they evolved F R A N K into a font for all to use and play with.

F R A N K has 207 glyphs including a set of alternative glyphs and additional arrows and it is available as OpenType (postscript flavoured) and Web Open Font formats exclusively via type foundry Milieu Grotesque.

The team have launched a limited edition pack of 100 to accompany the 100 unique copies of the typeface purchased from Milieu Grotesque. The packs contain a 32-page specimen featuring an essay on the history of the stencil by Mag. art. Dr. phil. Thomas Maier, lecturer on typography and graphic design at the University of Art and Design in Linz (Austria), a brass stencil and the digital typeface itself. The specimens also feature embossings, perforations, foil blocking and textured paper to show the typeface at its best, making these very tactile and engaging.

youtube

To find yourself just look inside the wreckage of your past
To lose it all you have to do is lie
The policy is set and we are never turning back
It’s time for execution; time to execute
Time for execution; time to execute!

Friendly reminder that some of the best SQ episodes have had zero SQ promotion or press. Anyone remember Going Home?

I don’t understand how some of you are worried that the finale won’t have any SQ when we know Emma makes a sacrifice to save Regina. It’s not going to be two full episodes of zero interaction and then that.

They don’t talk about big SQ moments. Ever. They save the IMPORTANT STUFF for the episode because it’s what matters to the story.

anonymous asked:

Wasn't Liam pictured with American R&B artists/producers? There were tweets of him with them in studios last year. So in Zayn left because of different music genres, then what was Liam working on? If his music is not for 1d then was it for his solo projects? But i see to remember them being hashtagged @one direction. Its so confusing.

That’s the thing.  Simon green-lighted solo side projects for the band.  Liam could have been working for a side project, working for the band, or just messing around for fun.

People implying Zayn wants to sing R&B and rap and that’s why he coudn’t stand being in One Direction are stereotyping him really badly.  Zayn likes pop music.  He’s listed plenty of pop songs and artists that he admires before.  We know he loves R&B, but that doesn’t mean he hates pop.  I love 1D’s stuff, but I also love Japanese rock music, dance tracks, a cappella music, and rap as long as I like the lyrics.  

Liam also loves R&B and rap.  I would argue he’s a ton more vocal about it than Zayn.  His sense of style, the music he played on livestreams, the artists he talks about, they all refer to those genres.  Liam has just as much reason to go solo as Zayn if the only problem is really the direction of the music.

Also, if Zayn really was being left behind, why?  I doubt the boys would have decided they would rather lose Zayn than compromise.  A real artist learns how to incorporate different genres together.  You don’t have to stick to flat country, flat rock, flat jazz, flat r&b.  Music evolves because you mix influences, add in unusual instruments, and just all around find new ways of putting things together.  If anyone didn’t want Zayn’s stuff on the album, it was their management and label, not the boys.  

Zayn only barely started writing on his own.  It might seem cruel his tracks didn’t get on the album, but that’s the norm.  The only reason we even know about it is because Naughty Boy was apparently touting it before the official decision was finalized.  I’m betting you all the boys have had at least 1 or 2 tracks, if not more, rejected by this point.  We know Liam has stuff he wanted on the album that didn’t make it too.  Assuming Zayn decided to go solo based on his track getting rejected is just making his case seem way more special than it is.  It’s normal.

If this were really about the direction the boys wanted to take with their music, don’t you think it would be Liam and Zayn vs Niall, Harry, and Louis instead of Zayn against them all?  Liam’s voice is gold for R&B as well.  It’s good for pop, but he could probably spread his wings even more if he was doing R&B.

Niall likes old rock the best (which is why he’s over the moon about WDBHG), Harry is more into the Mumford and Son’s vibe and a little alternative from what I can tell from his songs.  Louis is probably the most pop, but he apparently has an interest in Indie bands too.  All of them have different tastes, so why are we singling Zayn out and saying he only wants to sing R&B and hates pop?  He’s given us no reason to think he doesn’t like pop and all the others have different styles too.