she is competent and can hold her own in just about any situation

Yuri on Ice interview translation - PASH! 2017/05 (p24-25)

I am pleased to bring you the very first interview with director Sayo Yamamoto!!! You don’t know how much I’ve been waiting for this… This one is pretty general because of course she has never been interviewed before so they are asking her the basics, but it’s very interesting to finally hear things from her perspective too, since she’s the one who started it all. More interviews with her will be appearing in other magazines in the near future, I’m looking forward to those ones too.

Also, I believe a bright future is to be expected for Yuri on Ice, since she seems to have lots of plans…!! (I was shivering typing out the translation, lol)

Translation is under the cut.

***If you wish to share this translation please do it by reblogging or posting a link to it***

***Re-translating into other languages is ok but please mention that this post is the source***

Interview (first appearance in media!)
The world of “Yuri on Ice” that director Yamamoto wanted to create
With 8 notebooks full of notes in one hand, director Sayo Yamamoto has answered our interview for the first time. We have asked her how this new animation that no one had ever seen before was born.

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anonymous asked:

I'm so excited to see the way the plot unfolds after shiro disappears; how do you think keith is going to "discover" his "new powers" in relation to allura having recently discovered she has magical abilities, and the fact that he has to step up to lead the team at the same time?

I mean, I remain skeptical that Keith is really going to step up and lead.

The thing about Keith is he’s self-sufficient and competent, but this doesn’t mean good things for his character. Keith’s self-sufficiency is born out of necessity- that he’s good at taking care of himself is the nice way of saying he’s spent most of his life repeatedly deprived of people to rely on either practically or emotionally and so his reflex is to assume no one is looking out for him besides himself.

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[Fire Meets Gasoline] • 2

Professor!Negan x Reader

A/N: Did I mention I love Professor Negan? Because I loove Professor Negan. This is full dark smut, with extra smut on top. Negan is pretty dominant/possessive in this fic. Also, this is kind of long so forgive me! I do hope you enjoy it though, and feedback and comments are always so appreciated! xx 


|| Part 1 || Masterlist ||

Originally posted by loveviral


“Love, whether newly born or aroused from a deathlike slumber, must always create sunshine, filling the heart so full of radiance, that it overflows upon the outward world…”

You breathed out a heavy sigh while closing the book in your hands. Trailing your digits along the spine, your eyes followed the movement of your fingers to read the title. The last time you read this novel you were fifteen, naïve, and oblivious to the important lessons the story was trying to tell you.

Now you were suddenly drawn to Hester Prynne’s character; a woman who lived her life in sin just as you were now living yours. 

Instead of the red “A” written across your chest, you had the letter “N” etched deep in your heart and it was a painful scar that only you could see and feel. 

You found yourself caught in a toxic game of tug and war. No matter how many times you pulled away, Negan gripped the noose tighter around your neck and drew you back in.  

He wasn’t making your new position as his “mistress” any easier. 

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incandescence; pt.1

Genre: werewolf!au, angst, mystery (lol kinda)

Pairings: taehyung x reader

Word count: 2.8k

Summary: You must run away, as fast as you possibly can. But in that very moment a gust of wind blowing in from seemingly nowhere causes the curtains drawn close on the tiny window to flutter wildly, illuminating the room with a tinge of sunlight that streams in. And that’s when you see him.

Warnings: mentions of blood

prologue, pt. 1

Your mother had found you collapsed at the top of the staircase.

You wake up to the feeling of the soft duvet on top of you and the worry and relief in your mother’s eyes. For a moment you feel almost a bit too disoriented to recall the string of events which had gotten you here. However, your blissful ignorance does not last too long as the memories come flooding back to you all at once. The fear feels raw and fresh in your bones at the mere thought of, well, ’it’. The menacing pair of dark eyes gleaming with a razor like sharpness, the rumbling of the low growls erupting from deep within its chest. A man, a beast, a nightmare. You found both, the reality and falsehood inseparable in your head.

 “Y/N, Oh my God, I was so worried. Don’t you dare die on me like that again.” The panic in your mother’s voice grew progressively, until her words were literally coming out all rushed and jumbled up. “Just what happened? Don’t ever scare me like that again.” Close to tears she plopped down at the foot of your bed, running a hand over her tired face. And suddenly you could no longer bring yourself to tell her the truth.

 Some wicked shadow of a possible ghost suddenly zapped up out of nowhere and the poor faint hearted me passed out at the sight of it. There is a possibility the house is possessed,  Mom and all those horror movies are actually true. Now my soul is in danger. It sounded so absurd in your head that for a moment, even you doubted yourself. Before you knew it a lie that sounded way more close to the truth fell out of your lips. “I think… I might’ve fainted out of exhaustion. I hadn’t really eaten all day. Sorry, I made you worry.” 

 She did not for a second doubt your mumbled explanation, and that moment had you wanting to believe in your own lie.


The coming few weeks are nothing short a literal hell. A hell you’d crafted carefully with your own over active imagination and hyper alert senses. You jump like a scared cat at the slightest of  sounds and the slightest of shifts in the air. Your own heart beat feels a bit too loud in the ever silent misery of your new home. However when weeks tuned into a month, without any menacing dark shadows lingering around you, or anything even remotely poltergeist, you somehow force yourself to find a way to lock up that incident from days back and the paranoia that came with it in a little box which you then carefully hid away somewhere in the back of your mind.  Maybe it had been a hallucination, a trick played by your own exhausted mind on you, after all.

Your mother worked a hectic shift which usually required her to be gone all day. You constantly found yourself worried about her health when day after day she kept working herself down to the bones. “I’m fine Y/N. As strong as ever.” She would tell you with a small smile and even though the dark shadows lining her eyes would tell you a story otherwise, you never pushed it.

 Alone and with nowhere to go, the days felt too long with nothing much to fill in the long uneventful hours. You took care of the house hold chores almost a bit too enthusiastically as they provided you with your much needed distractions. You wanted to be optimistic about this whole situation but the coming months felt daunting when not even a single day passed without dragging on lethargically. It was all too quiet, too tranquil. Your days were caught up in a vacuum. However, even though you had failed to notice any of it, the silence was growing louder by the minute and sooner rather than later you would come to realize that what you once thought was a tranquil nothingness, is no longer as empty or peaceful as it had first seemed.


On one early Thursday morning, you wake up feeling a strange wave of nausea hit you out of nowhere. A foul smell invades your nostrils so overwhelming that you almost gag. It smells like something rotten and decaying. You furrow your eyebrows in puzzlement, you had been thorough with your housemaid duties, disinfecting and bleaching almost every surface in sight every single day without fail. There was no way you could have missed-wait!… the storage room.

 You had never really been in there, never bothering to explore that particular end of the house for some reason. As your mother had explained it, it was a little room which held a few of the broken items and old furniture belonging to the tenants who had lived here previously.  You sighed covering the half of your face with your t-shirt as you sauntered down the hallway, grabbing the bunch of house keys which held the one to the store as well, on your way.

 You had no explanation as to why fear was once again starting to cloud your mind and your feet felt as if they were made of lead. The sickening stench continued to go stronger the closer you got to the store’s door which stood closed at the end of the hallway a good few paces from your bedroom. The urge to just hurl out the contents of your empty stomach was desperately real. This was when your muddled memories of that one eerie evening from several weeks ago began escaping it’s rightful place from the little cage you had tucked them away in, as you stood in front of the door, trying to muster up the courage you needed to push it open. Fumbling around trying to find the key in its bunch you battled the inner conflict where your brain chided you, mocked at you for being such a coward while your entire body and soul wanted to just flee and never come back. 

Wow so what were you now? A paranoid lunatic?

 With that you pushed the door open and the excruciating whiff of burnt flesh and blood almost had you crumbling in an instant. You blinked away the tears which were beginning to form in your eyes and you frantically searched the dimly lit room for the source the smell. A rat it had to be a dead rat. But when your eyes did adjust to the dull lighting of the room, terror began to claw its way out and dread tore apart every bit of composure you had been holding on to.

 There was a pool of coagulating blood on the floor, and the red was smeared on one of the walls resembling the vague shape of handprints. Over your own loud and shallow breaths, you could hear someone else's ragged and unsteady breathing. You were frozen at your spot unable to speculate, unable to make a decision. You were all alone, unarmed, the closest neighbours a mile away. Screaming your lungs out would be a pathetic failed attempt at survival.

 "W-who are you?“ You stammered, not expecting an answer and surely enough you did not get one. You took a tentative step forward red flags going up in your head. You must run away, as fast as you possibly can. But in that very moment a gust of wind blowing in, from seemingly nowhere, cause the curtains which were drawn close on the tiny window to flutter wildly, illuminating the room with a tinge of sunlight that streams in and that’s when you see him.

 The blood curdling scream you let out in that moment could have been loud enough to split the skies apart.


Your visions blurry and the pumping of your heart is so hard that it almost hurts. You are breathless and petrified, a deer in front of headlights.

 He sits crouched in one of the corners, his head in between his knees. His silhouette trembles with every breath of his and a low guttural groan rips out of his chest. You snatch the curtains open immediately and your gaze flits downwards landing on the blood covered shreds of the once grey t-shirt he wore, which is now a gruesome shade of crimson. There is so much blood, on his torso, on his hands, his cheeks, you feel light headed just at the sight of it.

“Help me, just this once” his voice is a faint whisper, but his desperation rings loud and clear in the silent room.

 Rationality and common sense are long  forgotten as you rush to grab a first aid kit, a couple wet towels and a bottle of rubbing alcohol from your bathroom. You were nowhere near competent when it came to first aid, the only bits being the things you had learnt watching Grey’s Anatomy and other medical sitcoms. You were sure that the boy and the bloody mess he was in required more than just your superficial knowledge of healing.

 It was hard to keep the disgust and queasiness off your face when within seconds your own hands and clothes were splattered and smudged with his blood. Every time you pressed the wet towel onto his wounds he jolted under the ministrations of your hesitant and trembling hands. The bleeding continued incessantly and within moments the towels would begin to drip with the gushing red liquid.

“I can’t do this. I-I don’t think I can help you. I should call the police, the ambula-” Your own shriek stops you mid-sentence as the boy in front of you, roughly grabs your face with his large bloodied hand, forcing you to look at him directly. “Don’t. You don’t have to do anything. Just let me stay here for a while. I’ll be fine.” Contrary to his actions his words were barely pained whispers as he begged you to let him be. He lets go of your face and you sigh out in relief. “But-” He groans in frustration at you and you swallow your own words but as if he had read your mind, he answers that one thing which was constantly eating you from the inside out. “I do not have any intentions of harming you. You don’t have to be afraid of me. Look, I’ll leave right now if you want but just don’t call anyone, okay?” You had absolutely no reason to take seriously the words falling out of this stranger’s mouth. A con artist, a sweet talking rogue, a psychopathic cold blooded killer, he could be anything and everything gravely dangerous. 

Your faces were inches apart and you peered up at him through your lashes. He seemed to be a boy around your age, perhaps a bit older. His eyes were sealed shut and his face contorted in pain. His lips were chapped and drained of color, parted slightly as he let out short puffs of breath trying to hold on to whatever bit of composure that remained keeping him from screaming out in agony.Maybe you were about to make the mistake of a lifetime, a stupidity that could cost you your life, and perhaps even your mother’s. Maybe he was nothing but a beautiful nightmare, a beast with a seraphic face, and maybe falling for his deceptive innocence was going to be your biggest mistake yet.

 "So I just watch you bleed to death?“ the corners of his lips quirk up and a ghost of a smile plays on his lips. “Yes” he replies “You do exactly that.“ 


The hands of the clock race against each other at a frightening pace as the day flies by in a blink. Soon the fading sunset blends into the incoming night filling the little room with nothing but darkness once again. He does not look up at you even once in all those hours you spend sitting a few inches away from him on the floor, too afraid to move, too afraid to let him out of your sight. The slight rise and fall of his chest are the only indications of him still being alive but other than that he remains completely still. Your gaze wanders to the little window, the curtains fluttering around wildly at even the slightest touch of the winds. When the adrenaline has vanished from your blood stream, you can finally assess the damage of all the stupid impulsive decisions you’ve made ever since you discovered the injured intruder in your store. 

The events from a month back return to you in vivid details and you shudder. Looking at the broken boy in front of you, it is hard to put together any analogies between the two events, between the two intruders. Even though he sits crouched up the way he does, the boy’s face is finally peaceful like a child’s. He appears to be too lean, too… human and harmless, much unlike the burly shadow and its looming and intimidating presence, from your previous unfortunate encounter. There was something predatory in its stance and something venomous in its aura, traits the boy deep in his slumber clearly lacked.

You stand up, suppressing your groans as your legs feel like a thousand pin pricks. You needed to clean up the bloody mess the room was in. It takes almost an hour for you to get rid of the stains which seemed to have engrained themselves into the tiny ridges of the floor’s ageing wood.  Finally when the sting of bleach and disinfectant is way stronger than that of the metallic scent of blood which continues to faintly linger in the air you hear your mother’s car pull up in the driveway. 

You pretended like not a thing had changed in this entire universe during these past 24 hours, like you had not just given an intruder, a possible murderer shelter under the roof of your own house just because you felt sorry for the injured criminal. How were you supposed to explain to her the reason why you could not bring yourself to dial 911.  

 After serving dinner and catching up with your mother over it like any other day, you stayed up that night, pacing the hallway while your mother snored softly, sleeping peacefully in her own bedroom. Trying not to make any unnecessary sounds, you tiptoed to checked up on him twice, getting him a bottle of drinking water and changing his soiled towel for a fresh one. He looked too weak, too pale and your heart yearned for him to get better. Maybe you should have, afterall called an ambulance. But then his desperate plea echoes in your mind so you just stand at the crossroads unable to make a sensible decision, finally just choosing to go along with the wishes of the complete stranger. 

If anything was to go wrong that night, no one but you, yourself would be the one to blame. 

Morning comes when you are far too gone, deep asleep slumped in a chair close to your bed. You jolt awake when you hear a loud thump, like a heavy bag of sand falling loudly onto the wet ground. Apprehension causes you to bolt straight towards your mother's bedroom before you yank the door open. She’s still asleep, breathing and snoring under the covers, unharmed and you almost cry out with relief. 

Tip toeing, you head towards the store, almost not wanting to go in. You felt shaken up and unprepared, unsure as to what awaited you in the other side of the door. A lake of blood? A dead man? Gathering every ounce of courage you make your way in.

The curtains continue to flutter wildly, almost with a kind of desperation. As if they were dying to tell you the many secrets only they knew of. 

The boy was nowhere to be seen, and the cramped up space suddenly feels too huge without him in it.  

a/n- my updates are tragically slow n I’m forever sorry about my lack of motivation. I’ll try my best to post more frequently! thank you for sticking around :) feedbacks are welcomed *howls like a werewolf* *sounds more like a puppy* whoops. 

The Princess & The Swan | Na Yeon + Mo Mo (TWICE)

The Princess & The Swan | Na Yeon + Mo Mo (TWICE)

Word count: 3.2k
Genre: smut + high school!au
Warnings: public sex, threesome, dom/sub themes
A/N: wtf is this ??¿?

The twittering of voices that should sound like the sweet symphony of early morning birds has turned into the white noise of swarming mosquitoes after hours on end of suffering through it. Each voice, though different in sound, has the same message to relay like a flock of mindless parrots. The names printed on the lags pinned to their lapels may suggests that the members of your classroom are individuals in their own right, but the almost puppy-like loyalty they display towards one particular student shows it’s not true. Mo Mo Hirai sits in the desk directly behind yours soaking in all the praise as though she’s a newly anointed queen, and with how much attention the entirety of the school–faculty included–is showing her, she might as well be.

It’s no secret that Mo Mo is a good dancer. Better than good, she’s the best dancer at your high school and was chosen to represent the school’s dance club in a recent competition. The school had been taken aback at the prospect of competing in any type of competition after years of being just below the cut off for qualifications. Even the prestigious math league that was the school’s pride and joy never saw the light of day when it came to selections for seminars abroad that would most likely be taught by professors even the most dignified of teachers sought after for attention. Yes, on the outside Jang Sang seemed like the perfect high school that was striving towards greatness one year at a time, but on the inside it was just as corrupt and self-absorbed as they accused lower ranking schools of being.

Mo Mo was no different. In fact, she was more akin to the lower schools than anyone else seeing as she was brought into Jang Sang on a dancer’s scholarship. This was information privy to only the smallest amount of people inside the school and it wasn’t hard to see why. While everyone that gravitated towards Mo Mo like a moth to a flame wore the same uniform as she did–the females did, at least–Mo Mo hadn’t paid a penny out of her pocket for it. It showed in the designer bags and fancy makeup that was branded in some foreign language that most girls clung to like a lifeline. You have never once seen Mo Mo with anything other than her generic brand bookbag, but you can figure where all her families funds went. Not only did she dance, but her older sister did, too. So while all the other girls seemed to find no fault in dropping their entire allowance on a new makeup palette Mo Mo put her extra cash into her dance.

The newest addition to her equipment was the simple pair of black ballet shoes that you could see just poking out from her bag. The ribbons looked to be made of something luxurious; probably silk. Whatever it was couldn’t come cheap. It makes you wonder why Mo Mo let these careless kids inflate her ego as much as they do. All their dark eyes looked like blank abysses that search for nothing other than another stack of money.

Mo Mo was a lucky one. When she graduates she’ll have her whole life ahead of her. Any performing arts college would be foolish to turn down an application from such a promising woman. With the way she’s going it could be a free ride for her on another scholarship. Yeah, she’d be doing just fine. But the rest of these brainless zombies that have become so preoccupied with anything and everything superficial, they’ll be lost once our graduation ceremony is over. A select few could get by on their parents’ plethora money, but the rest who don’t have the grades to make it will probably get stuck serving drinks at the elegant places Mo Mo will surely be performing one day.

You realizes for as much as you ridicule the rest of them anyone could say the same things about you and not be wrong. Of course, you’re a good student; good enough to make it into some pretty elite schools, but money is on your mind as much as the next person. While Mo Mo probably dreamed in elaborate dance routines, you dreamed in a more domestic setting. From a young age you realized two things; one: you wanted to be a mother, two: you didn’t want to be away from your children. That in itself meant two things; marry early and hopefully marry rich. No one could raise a child on their own if they stayed home all day. It took you a few years after to release your hold on the stay-at-home mom dream. Money doesn’t grow on trees and so neither do rich people willing to marry you. You’d decided at the ripe age of thirteen to not let money rule you, yet here you are going back on your word. And to add salt to the wound, you happen to be dating the richest girl in school: Im Na Yeon.

She didn’t take issue with working hard seeing as she’s the student body president, but she also had a strict rule about people taking handouts. “If you’re not going to work hard with help then you don’t need it to begin with,” was her saying and she took it quite literally. You’d asked her about the whole stay-at-home mom situation and she’d loving told you that raising a child was the hardest, most demanding job in the world and she’d be lucky to help you in any way possible. As for Mo Mo, she wasn’t as forgiving. Na Yeon wasn’t a particularly hateful person–quite honestly she only hated enough people to count on her hands–but Mo Mo just got under her skin. She knew about her scholarship and was fine with it. The girl would dance her heart out to stay in this school, but what she wouldn’t do was pass her classes if they weren’t PE. This Na Yeon also knew about and it made her absolutely livid. To the point where she avoided Mo Mo like the plague and insisted it was for the dancer’s safety. You’d never seen Na Yeon fight or really hit anything, but you knew a thing or two about your girlfriend’s strength from a few heated encounters.

As you shake your head to disburse any perverted thoughts that could get you in trouble due to your current setting (and length of your skirt) the final bell rings. There’s no idle pretense on a Friday afternoon. Everyone immediately bolts to be free of their scholarly duties like bats out of hell. From your seat next to the third story window you can watch everyone skip happily down the front stairs in all their separate groups and separating into cars, vans, or walking. You get up to follow them, but your foot catches on a slick part of the tiles and flies out from under you. You land on your elbows with a slight groan, glaring at whatever almost handicapped you. Instead of it being a stray paper or lost pencil two pretty black ballet shoes sit a few inches from your feet. On of the ribbons it dyed grey with a mark that matches that of your shoe.

You quickly scramble to grab it and rub the mark of off the fabric. These shoes definitely cost more than what you hand in your wallet and Na Yeon would rather go toe to toe with Mo Mo after hearing how you came into possession of the girl’s shoes. Luckily, the dust mark swipes off on the hem of your skirt without much issue and the lace looks good as new once it’s gone. Once your back on your feet you check out the window. The last stragglers that aren’t staying after for clubs are on their way out and Mo Mo isn’t amongst them. She must be in the dance studio. You cradle her shoes close to your chest like a newborn as you walk through the maze of hallways on your way to the studio. You pass the student council room on the way there but think little of it. Na Yeon is always busy doing something in there and you don’t want to disturb her just to say hello. Instead you continue on your way, humming as you go.

Soon your soft singing is overlapped by a more prominent voice that’s being churned out of loud speakers. The light slipping from under the door in the otherwise unlit dance hallway is the only reason you keep walking. Usually this wing is alive with loud music and shouted command with numbers being shouted off to the beat. Now it’s much more calm as only one studio is being occupied. You stand on your tiptoes to see into the room and can barely glimpse the top of Mo Mo’s head as she sits on the floor facing the wall of mirrors. Quietly, you open the door and step inside. The singer you’d thought you were hearing through the speakers is actually seated on the floor with her head on her knees as she stretches, leisurely singing along to the instrumental. Of course, there’s no singer. Mo Mo was known to dance almost exclusively to music without voices.

As if reading your thoughts, said girl raises her head to look at you through the mirror. You clutch her shoes tighter to your chest and wait for her to accuses you of being a sneaky pervert for watching her stretch. She doesn’t. Rather than scolding you she smirks at you in the glass. It’s a smooth, knowing smirk that makes your stomach drop.

“You left your shoes!” You say as quickly as possible. You shove said items out in front of you as you bend in a perfect 90 degree angle bow. Mo Mo chuckles darkly causing you to peek up at her through your lashes. Now she’s facing you on her knees, waving you forward with a curl of her finger. Your body jolts towards her like you’ve been electrocuted. You realize belatedly that you’ve never been alone with Mo Mo before and are completely unprepared for how intense she is on her own. Once you reach her she takes the shoes from you and tossed them over to the rest of her things. You almost want to berate her for the harsh treatment, but dancing shoes are made to be battered, you suppose. Mo Mo doesn’t seemed worried either was as she rises to her full height with enough grace to stop your breath inside your lungs.

Even though she’s only a few inches taller than you she somehow seems to stare down at you as if you’re an ant. Maybe it’s the heated look in her dark eyes or the close proximity, but whatever is it seems to be working to shut down your brain and you need to get away from her before you do something you’ll regret. As of now you can’t tell if it will be painful or pleasurable. Though you have your answer as soon as her lips descend upon yours. Your arm easily snaps up on its own, fully intending to strike Mo Mo across the face, but the loud crash of the door slamming into the wall has the two of you jumping apart in fright before you can do so.

Na Yeon stands in the doorway wearing a less than pleased look on her pretty face. She’s angry; but you can’t tell if it’s at you or Mo Mo. Hopefully the latter seeing as you didn’t actively participate in her sneak attack on your lips.

“You just couldn’t help yourself, could you?” Na Yeon’s voice is deathly calm as she speaks each word with purpose. “You won the competition and now everyone loves you, so you think you run the school now? That everyone will fall at your feet and do whatever you want?” Na Yeon steps closer with each word until she’s at your side, just a foot separating her from the girl she hates most.

“How do you know she didn’t come to me on her own? Ever think of that, Miss Know-It-All?” It’s a cheap shot, a five year old could probably concoct a better comeback, but with the way her face is turning a bright red you’re sure Mo Mo is too angry and embarrassed to care what she sounds like.

“I watched her. She did come to you. But it was you who came onto her. I can’t let that go unpunished.” You’ve heard this voice before. It’s the tone that promises a sore ass after she’s spanked some sense into you. Heat gathers between your legs at the thought of watching Mo Mo get knocked down a few pegs by your ever-dominant girlfriend. The blonde would never step out of line again. Na Yeon reaches across the space between them and hauls Mo Mo forward by her tiny waist.

“You were stretching, right?” A small nod of confirmation, “Well, don’t let [Name] stop you.” Na Yeon easily flips Mo Mo until her ass is pressed into her hips, then drags a hand up her back to lower her head to between her knees. Na Yeon carelessly kicks at Mo Mo’s ankles until they’re a desirable distance apart.

“[Name], since you seemed so eager to return Mo Mo her shoes without any supervision why don’t you show her how eager you can really be?” There’s a pushing pressure on your shoulder until you’re seated between Mo Mo’s spread legs. “Go on, princess, you know what to do.” Na Yeon encourages you without a hint of remorse. You tug at Mo Mo’s spandex shorts, causing her to break her stance to kick them off. Na Yeon gives a quick reproach of her palm to Mo Mo’s tight ass, kicking her feet back into position. You continue where you left off, eager to please Na Yeon by pleasing Mo Mo and push her pretty lace panties to the side with your thumb.

Her lips are already glistening with arousal and you lick her clean before spreading her open with your fingers. Mo Mo moans as you do, earning another smack on her ass from Na Yeon.

“Shut up,” She grunts, digging her fingers into her waist to pull her back into her hips. “This is a punishment.” Mo Mo’s seals her lips and pinches her eyes shut before you return back to her awaiting pussy. More of her delicious juices have leaked out and you take your time gathering them on your tongue, flicking across her clit as you pull away. Her teeth dig into those perfectly pink lips that were against yours just minutes ago, trying to stay quiet. You continue to suck at her throbbing bud, occasionally enjoying the never-ending stream of slick she keeps giving you. It’s not until her thighs twitch around your head that you pull away to look at their faces again. You can feel Mo Mo’s juices painting across your cheeks, your nose, your chin, your lips, but you can’t find it in you to care. Not when Na Yeon has hiked up the trembling blonde’s shirt and sports bra to play with her pretty nipples. They’re hard and pretty between your girlfriend’s fingers and you crane your neck to lick at one of them. Mo Mo trembles as if the room is being wracked by an earthquake and drops to one knee. From the height her warm, wet pussy is just breaths away from your eager lips and you quickly grab her hips before she can stand again.

Na Yeon seems to get an idea from the new position and kicks out Mo Mo’s other leg so she’s fully seated on your jaw. What you hadn’t expected was the feeling of your legs being forced apart and panties being yanked off and tossed haphazardly across the studio. Immediately, Na Yeon’s fingers are lost in your heat and you moan into Mo Mo’s folds. She ruts her hips towards the vibrations and grabs hold of your hair, rocking her needy pussy against your tongue. You get lost in the sensations of eating one of the prettiest pussies you’ve ever seen and having your girlfriend’s fingers work magic between your legs. A particularly loud scream is muffled against Mo Mo as Na Yeon curls her fingers against your g-spot. Your legs shake in time with Mo Mo’s as your orgasms approach. Na Yeon suddenly pulls away her fingers causing you to pull away from Mo Mo to voice your complaints. Instead of listening Na Yeon yanks Mo Mo back into the cradle of her legs, tugs off her panties, and grabs the backs of her thighs. With no thoughts given towards Mo Mo’s flexibility, Na Yeon yanks the blonde’s legs back so Mo Mo’s feet rest on her shoulders. You swallow at the sight of Mo Mo being so spread out before you, still dripping with arousal.

“Come sit on your throne, princess.” Na Yeon says pointedly. You waste no time crawling over Mo Mo and sitting down so your lower lips kiss. You both toss your heads back, strained noises of pleasure leaving your lips. Na Yeon coos at the two of you as she watches you fuck the person she hates most. Mo Mo desperately wraps her arms around you, crushing your chest to hers. You can feel the heat of her sweat doused skin and the frantic beat of her heart as you grind your pussy against hers. A small chant of your name starts to leave her lips until her back arches awkwardly off of Na Yeon’s lap and she comes hard with a shout. Though you’re still unfulfilled you sit back, allowing Mo Mo to unfold her straining muscles. The blonde falls bonelessly off of Na Yeon’s lap. Said girl taken the opportunity to replace Mo Mo’s absence with you. She easily tugs you up so your legs are spread outside of hers before prodding her slender fingers at your opening. Two easily glide in with no resistance. You’re so wet and strung out from feeling Mo Mo’s pussy against yours that you near your high within seconds. Na Yeon adds her thumb to the equation, rubbing rough figure eights across the aching bud until you seize up in her arms, come dripping over her hand and onto her skirt.

By now Mo Mo has recovered from her own orgasm and gently maneuvers you to sit across her face. She plays with your over sensitive sex, flicking at your clit and swirling her fingers through your arousal until you come again; this time on her face. Mo Mo immediately attaches her lips to your lower lips to drink in everything you have to give her. The feeling is bordering on painful as she sucks hard at your pearl until you have to reach to Na Yeon for help. Your girlfriend is wearing a devious smirk on her face as she backs away from your reaching hands.

“Mo Mo, you did so well during your punishment,” She praises, pushing the blonde’s sweating bangs off her forehead, “How would you like [Name] as a reward? I quite enjoyed seeing the two of you together. It made me forget how much I hate you.” Mo Mo either doesn’t hear or doesn’t care about the last bit as she moans her approval into your pussy. Na Yeon smiles earnestly at the two of you.

“My princess and my black swan.”

In the months after, you perform a role that doesn’t feel right. It’s strange, being in this skin, and the only thought you keep on having is that you’re fake. You’re fake; it’s not you – it’s a stranger portraying a version of you that doesn’t exist in this universe. But no one seems to notice; that’s how good you’ve become at being someone else.

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Fury Road for the Fifth Time

I don’t even know what to say here.  I’ll listen to the soundtrack and dig up some fanart and see if anything comes to me.

[two hours later]  Okay, here’s what I’ve got:

-Furiosa brought Max around using only 7 words - visual story telling
-Pacing and editing in the service of character
-Coherent Action Cinematography
-Artistic Cinematography
-Use of Color

Furiosa brought Max around using only 7 words - visual story telling

I’ll take a guess here and say I bet George Miller is a marvelous actor’s director.  Obviously the casting is spot-on - but you don’t get performances where every flick of the eyes or slight cringe of the shoulders or freeze-in-the-headlights tell the story in the way that other movies rely almost solely on dialog to do…without fantastic direction.  Example:  Furiosa’s handling of Max is a massive relationship interaction almost sans dialog that could have been pages of dialog in most other movies.  Forgive an extended break-down - I’m just having a great time here.  In every section below, imagine how other movies would have the characters narrating, explaining, pleading, ordering - so much belabored language could have been thrown at turning Max around - but no, not here.

She starts at ‘this guy is an absolute wild card we cannot afford - executing him is the only option.’  When he had the out-and-out chance to kill her though…he didn’t do it.  This gives her a totally new set of options to reframe the situation, and she goes through them one by one. [does she ‘exposition’ any of this to the wives? nope.]

When she has to adapt to the reality of ‘he’s got the rig, we’ll die without it,’ she looks for possible handles on this guy, and ends up hitting on the critical one ‘he’s an animal in a trap (the muzzle being the most horrible, visceral element to him). I’ll offer him a way out.’  Once they’re all back in the rig, she makes good on her promise and with non-threatening body language hands him a file.  It’s hard to resist an inkling of trust at that kind of integrity. [and here we have our one direct line on ‘dude, would you calm down? we’re not going to kill you, you don’t have to kill us. we can figure this out’ but, you know, without any expository dialog. ‘you want that thing off your face’ is frankly manipulative, rather than conversational]

When she reaches for the start-up switches, he assumes she’s going for a weapon - and sure enough there’s one under the dash.  Considering her actions in this scene, I doubt she was going to pull it on him just now though - it would have put them in a stand-off and destroyed any chance of deescalating him (increasing their danger).  She lets him take it. [does any one remark on trustworthiness or suspicion or trust? nope.]

She then puts up with his panicked sequester of all weapons (played for humor, but really structured like ‘a stray on the verge of fear biting’ as someone insightfully pointed out).  ‘I’ll wait him out for a while, see if he calms down when allowed some element of control.’  Her approach sets the tone for the choices of the wives - they put up with his panicked attempts to cover every angle.  They, too, wait him out (with an air increasingly disbelieving nonchalance, all things considered).  Max gets visibly calmer throughout this scene as he’s given space to sort himself out.  [does any one reach out to calm Max verbally? or even in eye contact? nope. all action-based story telling.]

When Nux screws up the fuel pod, her strategy pays off - Max has stopped panicking enough to assess strategic options.  He’s still holding a weapon on her, and he actually goes through the fuss of reflexively taking the bag of guns with him (which is kind of hilarious), but it’s clearly a better idea for her to drive and him to fix - a better deployment of skillsets - so he acts on that.  And she lets him.  Staying in control of the rig is her preference, I’m sure - but letting Max feel competent is the right move here psychologically as well.  It’s one more way to give him back agency and get him further calmed down.  So Max has a job - now he’s part of the group. [no one remarks on this, no in-cab-while-Max-is-gone discussion among the women, nada. in any other movie 5 extra minutes would have been wedged in here for dialog]

In the same scene he finally gets the muzzle off, and boy does that transform him.  He walks back up the rig like he owns the thing - his terror is almost completely dissipated.  He arrives back at the cab, gun back in hand, only to come in on this scene of chaos.  What to do?  By the time they’ve shoved Nux out the door, Max is no longer holding a gun on anyone.  He could have taken advantage of the chaos to take over completely…but emotionally he no longer needs to in order to feel safe.  Again, her plan of solving for “terrorized” rather than “terrorist” was shown to be the right call.  [not even ‘you okay?’ let alone ‘glad you helped, ready to stop pointing guns yet?’ dialog]

Furiosa’s next move in handling him is undoubtedly born of necessity (her plan is kind of fucked - she’s trailing 3 war parties and knows she’ll end up making a run for it) - but it also follows from deescalating Max, giving him her trust in small ways (file, not waving guns in his face though he surely didn’t find them all), engineering the interactions with him to calm him down etc.  The next step would have to be giving him critical work and trusting him to do it.  Giving him complete control of the rig is going pretty far, but what choice does she have.  She gives him the start-up sequence - and though he starts the scene with one last attempt to feel safe by holding a gun on someone (Angharad), by the time she’s back in the rig she arrives to find him loading her rifle and handing it to her without hesitation.  Her fleeting smile to herself as she sees he’s fully engaged with her rather than alienating himself from her is a work of fucking masterful acting on Charlize Theron’s part. [ugh, I shudder to think of the phantom dialog possibilities here starting with ‘I’m trusting you’ and going to ‘how about not holding a gun on Angharad’ arguments and ending with ‘you really saved our bacon’ - I mean, can you imagine? terrible]

How much direct dialog is used to bring Max around?  It starts and ends with, ‘You want that thing off your face?’

Visual story telling in this movie extends all the way to the acting taking place almost without dialog pertinent to a crushing pace of character/relationship development.

dropkicks in one of the excellent film-theory threads said they wanted to slap down the script for Fury Road on the desk of every screenwriter in the biz with ‘what is your excuse now??’ wrt writing women as people.  I feel the same way about, well, everything else.  

This movie is a master class in visual story telling - a masterwork of the genre.

This is how visual story telling is done.

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anonymous asked:

Hi! This is such a cute little blog. Can you do a reaction post on the hosts reacting to their SO finding out they sleep with a teddy bear because of their traumatised past?

//Thank you! I hope to keep this blog active. I’m still quite new to Tumblr so I’m still getting the hang of it all. But thank you for my first ask! It’s made me so happy! Hopefully I can do all the hosts for you ^^“\ 

 ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ Teddy Bear Imagines ʕ⁎̯͡⁎ʔ 

 He’d be a little bit like Honey with his own brown bear, Kuma-chan. He uses his Kuma-chan as a comfort thing too so he would be completely understanding. In fact, he’d even start drawing the two teddy bears together instead of just his on his own on any notes etc. Like Honey, he would insist you use Kuma-chan if you ever lost your own teddy. But he would also scour the entire area just to find your teddy! Especially when he found out the reason behind why you are so attached to your teddy bear. “My dear Princess, you have nothing to be afraid of when you’re with me. I will keep away those night terrors. With the power of our teddies combined; we will remain safe throughout the night!” He would cry out majestically! 

He would be a little annoyed at first (especially since Tamaki and Honey do the same thing at the host club) because he expected a more ‘mature’ side from you. However, as you patiently explain to him the importance of the teddy bear, he will begin to understand. He’d even be calmly pissed (yes that’s a thing with Kyoya!) about the thought of such a lovely person having suffered something so horrific if it’s left the need to seek comfort that he can’t obviously give. When you’re lying in bed and he can feel you pat around bed for the teddy, he will quietly reach it and place it in your searching hands. Not saying a word to each other, but the mutual understanding is there. He’d still hold you (and your teddy) against him throughout the night. And yes, if you happen to go on vacation and forget your teddy, he will order the car to be turned around (or one of his service men) to go collect teddy. Naturally, he’d be annoyed. To keep up his appearance. But deep down, he’d understood. 

Expect Teddy Bear picnics with lots of cake! Honestly, Honey wouldn’t mind one bit. He’d be ecstatic that Usa-chan has a friend to sleep with too! You would all be a big sleeping ball of warm fluffy cuddles! However, Honey would cry when he heard about your traumatic past. How could anyone hurt someone so lovely!? If you ever forgot your teddy, Honey would immediately give you Usa-chan until you both could find yours. 

He would be more protective of you than you are of your teddy bear! Especially once he found out about your past trauma. Just like he does with Honey, he would always look out for you and your teddy. Making sure your teddy will always be near you and nothing happened to it. If you were ever upset, he would comfort you by wrapping his arms around you and handing your teddy to you; having both of you wrapped in his arms in a quiet, comforting embrace.

Kaoru: He’d tease you (jokingly) at first but once he found out about the seriousness of the situation, he’d understand. He’d find it quite cute and adorable seeing the two of you snuggled together on the couch or the bed. He’d probably never understand the full importance of such a stuffed bear, but he would still be understanding with you. He’d probably even snuggle your teddy if he was ever ill and missing your presence while you were away (at school or something). And on brighter days, he’d play games like ‘Come and get Teddy!’ By holding teddy up above your head, slightly out of your reach.

Hikaru: Upon seeing her curl up to your teddy rather than him, he would be annoyed and upset. After all, isn’t here there for you to seek comfort in him rather than competing against a stupid stuffed bear? Despite his obvious annoyance, you open up and tell him the reason behind it. Hikaru becomes quiet as he takes in what you said and tries to understand. He’ll probably never fully understand, but he does try and sympathises with your past trauma. Only, he’s even more annoyed now knowing that there were people out there who have hurt you. 

 Haruhi: Much like Mori, she isn’t fazed by the need of having something to self-comfort with. It really is no different to her having a preferred pen to write with. So she certainly won’t judge. She knows what it’s like to seek comfort in something when you’re scared or lonely. She would listen to you and sympathise with your past, and would take it into consideration in the future (making sure your teddy is always packed if you’re going away on holiday). Being the domesticated woman she is, she would also hand-wash teddy every now and then to help keep him clean and preserve him longer. She could only hazard a guess as to how many nights your teddy has soaked up your tears. 

*・゜゚・*:.。..。.:*・’ BONUS '・*:.。. .。.:*・゜゚・* 

Tehe, this bumbling sweetheart wouldn’t mind if you had a teddy bear to cuddle with at night. He’d probably blush more because he thought it was the cutest! Hearing the reason behind the need for the teddy bear, he would have his gang protect you and escort you wherever you went. And he’d not only pledge to protect you, he’d also pledge to protect the teddy bear too.

//eep I’m not confident with this character! Forgive me!!!!\
He would immediately put Teddy through a welcome/pledge to the darkness kind of ritual. He would also put a curse on Teddy. A curse that is sweet in a way. The curse would be for any of those people who have or going to wrong/harm you in any way, they will be cursed. He will even lurk in the darkness to witness the consequences of the curse; to make sure that they are getting what they deserve for harming his beloved. 

Momo spends her evening making a chess set.

The purpose of making the chess set it twofold: firstly, to practice forming small, intricate figures made of both wood and paint, and secondly, to play chess. Chess was always something she wanted to try, but never had the chance to. That’s not entirely true: she’s played against a computer before, so she knows the rules and a bit of strategy. But she’s never played with a real person. She wants a real game, during which she can physically move the pieces and see the board in three dimensions. She wants to play against a real person she can clearly see in front of her.

Momo sits in the common area, laying the board she created first in front of her. Then she begins making the pieces, concentrating deeply while pieces fall out from her thighs. At first, Jirou and Tooru keep her company, but they soon tire and head off to eat. Aoyama compliments her on the shiny paint job. Iida asks if he would be allowed to play against her once she’s finished.

In total, it takes her two hours. By the time she finishes, she’s starving. Before she heads to the kitchen, Momo arranges all the pieces in their proper places. She’s pretty proud of her work; the pure white and pitch black armies look rather regal standing off against each other on the checkered board. As an afterthought, she pushes a white pawn forward.

Her stomach rumbles, and Momo head off to make herself a big dinner.

The next morning, she sees that the chess board is not as she left it. A black pawn has been moved two spaces forward, two columns away from the one she pushed forward last night.

She asks around to see who might have done it, but no one knows.

Before she goes to bed that night, she pushes her pawn forward another space. And the game begins.

It goes on like that for a week. Momo still doesn’t know for sure who she’s playing. She doesn’t think it’s one of the girls; since she’s friendly enough with all of them, they would most likely tell her directly. Her second guess had been Iida - he had said he wanted to play her. But when she had asked, he said it wasn’t him. She suspects it’s Tokoyami, or maybe Ojiro. They seem to have the disposition for chess, and might be shy enough to avoid confronting her about it.

She can’t bring herself to ask them, though, afraid that if she did, she would scare them off and the game would end.

But playing one move a night is agonizingly slow. They’re getting nowhere at this rate. So that night, Momo waits up, hovering around the kitchen while keeping an eye on the common area.

Evening fades into night, the natural light of the setting sun replaced by electric lights within the dorm. The hands on the clock tick away slowly, round and round, and still, no one touches the board. Each of her classmates head up one by one, until it’s only Tokoyami and Bakugou left. And then Tokoyami heads upstairs.

No way.

Sure enough, Bakugou gets up and moves a piece. He flickers his eyes up and glares at her.

Momo jumps. She didn’t think he realized she was there.

“Well?” he asks. “Your move.”

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Miso Soup Everyday

Summary: This is supposed to be a certainty – the one sure thing in his entire life. Yet he can’t fight the same mounting apprehension he experiences when crossing into a dimension he’s never visited before. [SasuSaku Festival 2017 – Day 2 – Prompt: “Insecurity”]

Disclaimer: This story utilizes characters, situations and premises that are copyright Masashi Kishimoto, Shueisha, Shonen Jump and Viz Media. No infringement on their respective copyrights pertaining to episodes, novelizations, comics or short stories is intended by the author in any way, shape or form. This fan oriented story is written solely for the author’s own amusement and the entertainment of the readers. It is not for profit. Any resemblance to real organizations, institutions, products or persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All fiction, plot and Original Characters with the exception of those introduced in the books, manga, video games, novelizations and anime, are the sole creation of KuriQuinn and using them without permission is considered rude, in bad-taste and will reflect seriously on your credibility as a writer. You will be incinerated by a giant fireball should you be found plagiarizing.

Warning: Spoilers for pretty much everything up to Chapter 699.

Canon-Compliance: As close to canon as fanfiction can possibly be. With a few personal additions :P Takes place during the Blank Period.

Fanon-Compliance: Takes place several years before An Inch of Gold and Unplanned.

Beta Reader: Sakura’s Unicorn

User: kuriquinn 


Honestly, it’s a bit of a role reversal.

When they were children, Sasuke was the aloof one – cool and confident, perpetually at ease in his role as the storied prodigy of Konoha. He was the genius of Team Seven, overshadowing Sakura’s presence as if she was no more than an afterthought. Between his rivalry with Naruto and the attention Kakashi lavished upon him, it was all too easy to consider Sakura as a barely requisite third wheel. Insecure and needy, she trailed after him like a puppy.

That’s no longer true.

These days, it’s Naruto and Sakura that are beacons of hope in the community, the heroes that little children crowd excitedly around when they walk through the streets. Sasuke is the one people don’t think of – or rather, prefer not to think of. The third wheel of the new generation of Sannin, whose reputation is maintained only by his connection to the other two.

He might’ve helped to save the planet, but it’s Sakura’s name that opens doors.

And if that doesn’t work, her fist splinters them.

Since returning to Konoha, Sasuke has noticed the whispers and stares that follow them when they walk together. Initially, he thought the behaviour was directed at him – judgement on his past deeds and the dark legacy that will hound him until he dies – except the general tone of the whispers is usually deferential. He knows from years of wandering that people are more likely to avert their eyes than risk his attention. However, it’s Sakura to whom they look; it’s she who holds the admiration of every inhabitant of the growing city.

What’s surprising about it, though, is how much he doesn’t mind. As a child, the idea of being second to anyone was unacceptable, especially in comparison to his teammates. Naruto because he was the village screw-up and Sakura because – back then – she was just support. An admirer to cheer on his successes and, in the early days of their team, to highlight just how much Naruto was beneath both their skill level.

It’s all different now.

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anonymous asked:

You've brought up the negative aspects of the dynamic between Seidou, Akira, and Amon several times before; do you think their relationship has any prominent positive traits? (Also, I do like the more negative or pessimistic posts as well. Your metas are always thought-provoking.)

No, you can’t make me. 

Well okay…. Amon paid for their food once when they all went to eat together, that was nice of him.

Amon, Akira and Seidou really are the only friends each other has. Their social circles are completely dominated by other work acquiantances, but the three of them are the only ones who can be described as roughly on the same level. Seidou had Houji, but it was shown in the end Houji didn’t seem to value him that much. Amon had Shinohara to look up to professionally, and Mado as a father figure but both of those people also were distant from him. Mado had no one, and even in Re: the closest she has is Sasaki who she holds distinct power over, and Arima who holds distinct power over her and literally ordered her to form a bond with Sasaki Haise to help control him. 

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jane headcanons (+ others, because this girls relationship to other people is important to me)

  • ben can turn into a beast. like an actual beast. but he has full control over it, and he never ever does it unless he thinks he’s in a life-or-death situation. jane knows about it and doesn’t tell anyone cuz its none of their business but it does lead to weird looks when jane gives him something humans can’t eat/drink and everyones like wait a sec
  • because ben can change and by definition he is Not Human but everyone forgets that (they also forget janes fae a lot too)
  • jane and ben are actually really good friends because Introverts™ need to stick together.
  • bens really protective of her but he’ll never admit it unless someone asks (brother/sister but no one else has context for it so they come across as two random people that know weird amounts about each other). Do Not Hurt Jane Where Ben Can See It.
  • janes kinda like sherlock holmes, running experiments and doing stuff that looks really bizarre without context (and she rarely gives it because people don’t ask and having a reputation as a weirdo lets her get away with doing stuff other people would DEFINITELY get in trouble for) (ben lonnie doug and sometimes chad know what the context is. they let her do it, because the bafflement on peoples faces is always funny)
  • she and her mother have a relationship kinda like gina and holt on brooklyn nine-nine: ones more of an authority figure, but have a rock-solid friendship (this does cause trouble when jane needs her to be a parent) because parental authority doesn’t quite stick after the fortieth year of a humans life and that authority doesn’t stick around anywhere near as long for fae.
  • you’re equals in physical power and there isn’t a full chance one will outlive the other why deal with that?? fae run on a different morality than humans okay, parental authority isn’t gonna be a thing that transgresses species. (also FG has been more on the neglectful side when it comes to raising jane (not fully her fault she’s a busy lady) and as jane ages she’s lost the desire to have FGs attention. they are friends tho
    • like “mom i need your permission to do this thing" 
    • "you’ve never asked my permission to do this thing before?? why now??”
    • “because if i screw it up i don’t wanna be the only one blamed for it”
  • (jane and ben have had this conversation too btw)
  • if jane and FG are gina and holt then jane and chad are gina and jake: they’ve influenced each other since childhood (jane on chad more than the other way around) but most people don’t know they known each other that long so when the two do something weirdly in sync everyone not in the know is just???
  • but they love each other but jane thinks chad a douche now and is going to be forever Not Impressed™ until he cuts it out
  • she knows where all the clubs and bars for fae are and she drinks there once or twice a month. she keeps getting into arguments with other magic peoples, mostly over magic theory. it never really escalates except in volume because turns out janes really easy to rile up when she’s drunk?? jordan has to drag her away
  • everything jane knows about magic is almost entirely self taught. FG won’t teach her but she can cajole info out of other faeries when she plays her cards right & jane totally knows where EVERY store in the city that sells magic shit is. every. single. one. she’s a regular at all of them
  • really hates that when audrey left she was put in charge of cotillion planning?? she’s an introvert whats she doing this for. its her own personal hell.
  • Queen of Odd Friendships. well not really Odd Friendships, its just that she gives off the air of someone without many (any) friends, so when it turns out she’s low-key friends with half the fae community in Auradon City (and some in Cinderella’s kingdom) its jarring. the girl ignored in Auradon Prep is on first name basis’ with a five hundred year old gargoyle and a vampire? when did this happen everyone asks. fours years ago, jane answers with a straight face. janes telling the truth
  • top student (doesn’t need to sleep). refuses to compete or even let people know that she’s a high-achieving student because she knows her classmates will go nuts trying to figure how she’s so good (she hasn’t slept in months. she does homework to fill in the hours to dawn. you cant beat her)
  • doug knows this, doesn’t even try to top her in class. its not “be the best in class” its “be the next person after jane to be best in class”. he’s dealing w it. other people aren’t.
  • when she’s grateful to people she kisses her fingertips and then presses them against the persons forehead. its super cute and always (ALWAYS) leaves the other person blushing to their ears because who expects that from her??
  • loves scary movies. watched silence of the lambs when she was like. nine. whenever she’s rewatching it she laughs at the most inappropriate moments. laughed when the dinosaurs ate people in jurassic park
  • she speaks a bunch of languages with varying fluency including the native fae language (which she and her mother use solely whenever they’re alone. keep that heritage up ladies). can read about a dozen more languages (magic books are old a lot of the time and you need to be able to read them properly otherwise you mess up)
  • is a good bit stronger than anyone knows. like. she could flick a person across a room if she’s angry enough. can totally cave someones skull in if she’s got enough adrenaline in her. doesn’t like that about herself and tries to hide it. because faery
  • (but she and jay spar all the time when jaynelos are in the flirting stage/awkward trying to figure out emotions stage and have no-holds-barred fist fights. janes SUPER brutal when she fights even when she’s holding back. one time she kicks jay in the head and he’s all Heart Eyes™)
  • anyone who knows takes bets whenever/if-ever she gets attacked on just how trashed the other person is gonna be. anyone who doesn’t is freaking out because jane looks like Jane. she’s tiny. why are you so calm about someone trying to kill her. (get to her and the attacker is moaning in pain on the floor. not-knowers are ????)
  • brenna d'amico is a really good singer and so jane is too. one of the tie-in books says janes in the acapella group and is an alto. she can play guitar and piano. also did ballet when she was younger and hated it - was forced basically at knifepoint. you Don’t want her to kick you.
  • she does pole-dancing now. less for the ‘sexiness’, more for the cardio. pole dancing is exhausting.
  • she and her mother have a deal: jane wears the light blue shit during school hours/days and at formal events. on weekends, jane gets to wear whatever she wants. leads to weird looks when people need to talk to her and she’s dressed like someone else. she refuses to explain herself.
  • blushes whenever someone complements her because people don’t complement her much. is even cuter when she does it. complementer is blushing too. she’s cute. its a loop of blushes. (she deserves all the complements. come on guys. be nice to her)
  • sweaters and knitwear everywhere. all winter she can wear a sweater every day and never repeat and outfit (she makes them)
  • has tattoos. will never tell, and they’re really little and she can hide them under her clothes, but she has them. she’s got freckles on her back that have been joined into constellations and a couple runes on her skin for protection (she was visiting her dad in starlight valley and he held her hand when she got them done) she loves them.
  • also has blue freckles and pointed ears. if mal gets to have magic green eyes and purple hair then jane gets to have magic identifiers too. (she covers the freckles up w makeup tho, it weirds people out)
Thoughts on Belief

“It is the mark of an educated mind to be able to entertain a thought without accepting it.”- Aristotle

I would be lying if I said that my head wasn’t a mess lately. I’ve been going through a period of contemplation regarding my view of the spiritual world. It’s not quiet a crisis of faith, because my core belief system has yet to feel truly challenged as it has in the past, but there is still an inward struggle occurring. 

Believe it or not, I’m a very logically minded person. I’m studying psychology with the hopes of eventually getting my Doctorate, and much of my belief system lies substantially within the laws of nature and science. I have never understood people who choose to avoid learning about the sciences, and would instead prefer to stay in the dark and label things as being “supernatural” or “magical” with the pretense that the natural laws of the universe have little to do with their causation. Instead, the areas in which my spirituality lie are within the unknown, the areas of the Universe that we cannot yet prove to be simply scientific.

I will openly admit right now, that this causes a lot of paradoxical thinking. These items - such as belief in a higher power, spirits, or astrology - are often fed by personal biases and wishful thinking, and cannot be tested to be proven either true or false. They feed both my skepticism and my spiritual side equally, to a point that they are often facing off with aggression in my head. I’m under the impression that sometimes my friends might get annoyed with my common rants about the incredible power and immense detail of the brain and how it is very much capable of producing all of the spiritual experiences we have - such as astral travel - all on it’s own, and how they may not necessarily be the independent, magical workings we all want to believe they are. I’m sure they wonder just as much as I do why the ever-living hell I care if I’m still practicing witchcraft and spirit work. 

The answer I keep coming back to is that the deniability of anything that cannot be proven true or false is ultimately the opposite of scientific thought. Five hundred years ago, people were absolutely certain that the world was flat, and five hundred years before that, people were absolutely certain that Earth was the center of the Universe. To be absolutely certain of the untruth of anything that is currently unable to be proven false is illogical. Dr. Dean Radin, a parapsychologist of the Institute of Noetic Sciences, once stated that to deny the possibility of paranormal or supernatural events (such as hauntings) without giving them genuine consideration and research is the antithesis of science. The fact that so many people are having such experiences is enough to justify genuine research into them, rather than simply stating them as false. This does not mean that one cannot be skeptical, but that giving such situations at least the possibility of truth is more reasonable than denying them outright. Especially in recent years, as science has begun to uncover details about the universe that are so complex they might be considered incomprehensible. 

This being said, it is also equally silly to believe in something without a doubt that it is true, especially when there is rising scientific evidence that proves its improbability. I personally consider skepticism with open mindedness a healthy thing, though I am also aware that it can be very stressful for some people, and putting minimal thought into the possibility of their belief system being incorrect is more comfortable for them. This being said, my own beliefs are always changing and evolving, adapting to new information I find, especially if it is within the realms of Occam’s Razor, which states that “among competing hypotheses, the one with the fewest assumptions should be selected.”

One thing I should touch on here, however, is the idea that simply because something can be explained by science does not mean that it isn’t magical. That word means something different for everyone. To me, it represents what I mentioned earlier, the areas of the universe that cannot yet be tested as correct or incorrect, and the work that takes place within this paradigm. Astral travel and spirit work, for the most part, take place within certain levels of induced trance that allow us to speak with creatures from, and enter the Otherworlds. However, it has also been discovered in some studies that those people who are inclined to easily travel astrally, or even experience Astral Projection and OOBEs are very sensitive to hypnosis, and extra sensitive to suggestion. This can include self-suggestion, in which the imagination may take over and fill in the gaps of nothingness. Vivid hallucinations can be induced by prolonged sensory deprivation, in which subjects have experienced speaking to deceased loved ones, and meeting creatures that claim to come from other worlds.

While all of this is true, and the brain is capable of making itself experience amazing things without the direct intention of the person, who is to say this is still not a magical experience? Who is to say that the brain itself is not a tool to connect with the magical and spiritual, and that what we experience, though perhaps explainable, might still be a pathway to what lies beyond our scientific understanding? In addition, who is to say that simply because something can be explained scientifically, that it does not have magical significance? A friend of mine with Aphantasia has stated to me before that the fact that his brain lacks the capability of experiencing visions and spiritual connection is enough evidence for him to be an Atheist, and hold no belief in anything magical or supernatural. Yet, when a tree falls in the forest and there’s no one around, does it make a sound? Science says of course it does. If a human mind is not capable of comprehending or connecting to feelings of divinity, does the Divine simply not exist? Ironically, science has no say on this matter, so we are made to come to our own conclusions, any of which are valid, so long as we remain open minded. 

I, personally, am fond of Hermetics, and the accompanying saying “As above, so below. As within, so without. As the Universe, so the soul.” When I think of this statement, I feel that it implies a circle by which the mind connects to the Universe and reads signs within it, as the Universe itself both creates the mind to locate such signs. Perhaps Astrology is not correct or provable in the scientific sense, but perhaps the fact that the mind is capable of reading signs within it, and allowing those signs to have influence on it is already magical. Though many people may simply label this as self fulfilling prophecy, or the placebo effect, perhaps the way in which the mind connects to the Universe is magical enough. Ultimately, it can be assumed that the Universe and the brain speak the same language and are reflections of each other. 

“As above, so below…” not only implies this circle of reading signs, but it implies that that which happens in and effects the macrocosm will have the same effects on the microcosms within it, and vice versa. Our thoughts make our reality, but our personal reality still creates our thoughts. Because my belief system surrounds Hermetics, and my personal interest and study involves psychology, it is easy for me to believe this loop of cause and effect. The human brain is an incredibly powerful thing, not only capable of connecting us with the universe, but is capable of influencing our own lives through our subconscious. When done actively and through practice and intent, this is magic. The spiritual may have great influence on our minds, yet our minds have incredible influence on the spiritual, hence the three major Hermetic levels; The Physical, Mental, and Spiritual, with the Mental lying between the other two, forming the bridge which allows them to interact. Whether or not this is simply supernatural magic, or the magic that lies within deep and complex variations of physics is irrelevant. 

Gemma Gary, an author and traditional witch, once stated that she simply would not bother doing witchcraft if it did not seem to work, and that whether or not the majority of it is the placebo effect would not matter to her enough to effect her practice. She stated also that she has no problem using a car to get from point A to point B, but that she genuinely has no idea how a car truly works, nor does she care to know, just as long as it works for her. She compared this analogy to her practice of the craft. 

Though all of these beliefs that we choose to take part in are not provable by science, they can still have significant meaning. Though I am not certain that the spirits I commune with are not simply figments of my imagination, I cannot deny that the feeling is different from when I purposefully dream them up, and I cannot deny that their influence on my life has been significant. I cannot deny that when I enter the astral world, things seem to happen without my expectation or intention, always surprising me. I cannot deny that when I have had my friends do astral healing on me, even if I am skeptical and doubtful the entire time they are doing the work, that I feel incredibly better by the time they are finished. I cannot deny that I have done spells, and things have happened that might have seemed impossible beforehand.

A little Bird (and her Condor) once explained to me that if something is real to me, then it simply cannot be stated that it isn’t real at all. A Vexer of Spirits once added that the imagination is powerful, and that if a vision is vivid enough to create deep feelings within, then our spirit experiences it. It simply does not matter if it was dreamed up or not.

I am presently sitting here in my apartment writing this, and my thought form companion is sitting across the room from me. I will be writing about him in another post shortly. While I am writing it I will be second guessing our entire conversation, feeling as though perhaps I had simply imagined all of it. Yet, with him here in front of me now, I have a deeply warm feeling in my chest. A sense of safety, and a deep feeling of affection from him. I can nearly smell his cologne, and I hear his voice with almost crystal clarity. This may simply be all in my head. Perhaps I am dreaming him up with such vividness because he matters so much to me. Perhaps it is silly and childish, something that should have been outgrown years ago. Yet he has still influenced me. He has made me wish to become a better, stronger, more compassionate person, and he has told me wisdom that I may not have ever found, if I had never created him by mistake. 

This is magic. Whether it is in my head, or it is as real as the leather couch I’m sitting on, it is changing me and my reality. It is not testable, it is not provable. I am okay with that. 

“I would rather live my life as if there is a God and die to find out there isn’t, than live as if there isn’t and to die to find out that there is.” - Albert Camus

AOS Fic - In Darkness, Part VIII

For @gracieminabox

In Darkness chapter index.


Y’all know the warnings by now.

McKirk, ‘cause it’s always McKirk.

But often faltering feet
Come surest to the goal;
And they who walk in darkness meet
The sunrise of the soul

~ Henry Van Dyke

They isolate the pathogen the very next day.

An undocumented, encapsulated protist, Jim learns from Dr. M’Benga. Infecting the erythrocytes and inducing massive hemolytic anemia.

Jim understands less than half of that, but Dr. M’Benga’s words send a shiver of dread down his spine all the same. “When can I see him again?” he asks through dry lips.

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anonymous asked:

hi! do you have any strong opinions or hcs about the dirk+jane friendship? i really like your dirk stuff and i love this relationship and it would really make my day to see some of your hcs or meta! (not as a couple tho thats ew)

I basically think that Dirk and Jane are the closest, purest platonic friendship in possibly the entire comic and I love them deeply?? The alphas feel closer to me than any other group, and the Dirk<->Jane relationship is the only one among them that isn’t tinged by either romantic interest/pining or repressed resentment. 

Like. Roxy and Jane, they are best friends, absolutely, but we know from canon that Roxy honestly and actually felt quite bad about Jane literally just not believing even the tiny bits of the reality of her situation that Roxy let slip (her “mom” being dead is the one she talks about) and felt awful about having to “lie” about living in post-apo future partially because Jane would never have believed them anyway. Like. There is a lot to unpack there. Add that to their weird thing with Jake, too – not competing over him, exactly, that’s the wrong word, just, Roxy constantly being frustrated about the situation and Jane just willfully refusing to see that, and blah blah. 

Jane and Jake’s relationship is obviously weird because of the way they dance around each other’s romantic inclinations and Jane sort of holds Jake on this pedestal as her Crush before she thinks of him as her Friend, and part of Jake’s relationship to Jane is having to always be vaguely receptive and live up to that view of him while not actually giving her an opening to make anything official. So that’s weird. They’re close but there’s a performative element to aspects of their relationship on both sides that’s hard to look past.

And of course, Dirk and Roxy have the one sided pining, the last people on earth baggage, the mutual guilt, they love each other more than anything in their own weird way and are so fucking close it hurts but that guilt and resentment between them is a wall covered in thorns and spikes and poison. 

And then Dirk and Jake, which is as far as I can tell and I’ve mentioned this before, a story about two boys who have loved each other for basically EVER, but Jake never let himself think about it that way until it was too late and he’d already given Dirk the impression that he COULDN’T and then the AR happened and everything got weird and difficult and frustrating fast. 

So Jane and Dirk. There is NONE of this there. Like maybe it is just me but I NEVER got the impression that Jane found Dirk romantically appealing, which means that Dirk doesn’t have that swirling self loathing about being unable to reciprocate like he does with Roxy. They are just two actual best friends who share a bunch of interests and enjoy talking to each other and respect each other’s opinions and capabilities, they’re just FRIENDS.

As a side note – I think it’s so cool that (what I think is) honestly the closest most purely platonic friendship in homestuck is between a man and a woman, because I see it so rarely, media creators rarely extend the self control to keep man/woman relationships platonic from all angles, even when they DO there’s often a sub-arc where one side or the other freaks out like BUT DO I LIKE THEM LIKE THEM OH NO or DO THEY LIKE ME LIKE ME OH NO and neither ever happens with Jane and Dirk. And I love it. So many of my personal platonic friendships throughout my life have been with men and I get so fucking tired of the overarching narrative that it’s impossible. Okay. Side note over. 

I loved Jane and Dirk’s conversation on the quest beds so fucking much. Like. I think there is still a lot more for them to work out, and Jane’s lingering resentment/jealousy over Dirk ending up with Jake after all is something they need to deal with – I think that conversation indicates they WILL deal with it though. They weren’t quite ready right then, they were still in the anger phase of everything (not at each other, but partially at Jake and partially Dirk’s own self loathing at work), but I think they will work it out and go back to being best friends. 

The only “negative” things I have to say about it is that they both mutually do not seem to “get” each other’s biggest flaws – but uh, none of the alphas really do and that’s part of why when they all get together in person everything gets shitty so fast – but I think they will get better about this, too, and the REASON they miss the mark at first is because they are both so anxious to think well of the other, they don’t let themselves look too hard at the bad stuff. I think they can reconstruct their friendship on earth C with a better understanding of one another and end up closer than they were before all the shit went down because of it. 

Rowaelin Gym AU Part 8

Hello guys!! It’s not Friday but oh well. I was having a tough time figuring out where to go with this because I didn’t plan this fic out. My next one is not going to be like that. Anyway I hope you guys enjoy. Hopefully I’ll be getting a part 9 up soon. 


@disneyaddict27 @writerbutalsoanasshole @emilyshi101emu

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Dancing in the Moonlight (m)

Word Count: 4,607

Warning: Namjoon smut

If there were a way for you to escape responsibility, you’d gladly accept, whatever the consequences might be.

“Now smile and hold your head up high,” the voice behind you says drowning with sternness and expectations.

“Yes, mother.”

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