so many thoughts yet so little words

anonymous asked:

Thoughts on Louis' new interview saying that "he's so honest and wants fans to know his honest feelings and that the lyrics will be controversial because he doesn't want fans to read between the lines ". Can't believe how me.... a huge Louie, is already dreading this album. My enthusiasm now is totally gone, I guess his team is smarter than we think because it's sure pushing my Louie ass away. 💔💔💔

Louis said:
• Lyrics are honest, not hiding behind words
• No songs inspired by Freddie yet
• Lots of lyrics inspired by Eleanor
• In chronological order over the last 3 years, 2014-2017, or perhaps 2013-2016
• Inspired by bands like Oasis and Green Day with their kind of non-abstract lyrics, though more pop in feel

Louis has written a lot of direct, honest lyrics in the past, lyrics that have communicated a lot of emotion in a few words. Just as a reminder:

Make a little conversation
So long I’ve been waiting
To let go of myself and feel alive

So many nights I thought it over
Told myself I kind of liked her
But there was something missing in her eyes

I was stumbling, looking in the dark
With an empty heart
But you say you feel the same
Could we ever be enough?
Baby we could be enough

And it’s alright
Calling out for somebody to hold tonight
When you’re lost, I’ll find the way
I’ll be your light
You’ll never feel like you’re alone

I’ll make this feel like home

These are honest, no-nonsense lyrics that clearly state: I don’t love “her.” I tried, but I can’t. I know you struggle too, and I embrace you, I sympathize, I will make you feel loved, comforted, consoled. You’ll never feel isolated or ostracized, no matter what @Louis_Tomlinson says. I know how you feel.

These lyrics were written in May 2015, well within Louis’ supposed three-year timeline.

His new “honest” lyrics, therefore, will have to be measured against these.

Just like with Harry’s album, the claim of honesty comes with a huge ocean of salt. “Honest” lyricists don’t stunt with transparently arranged beards.

I completely understand your distaste for the stunts and the language, but I think Louis deserves a listen and the most sympathetic interpretation. Songs have metaphoric and double meanings. Many, many closeted artists write lyrics that make much more sense in retrospect.

One of the many many many many reasons I love sheith so much is, like…

You have this big buff golden boy and this little fiery dude. And Shiro’s so good at everything, he’s so strong and smart, yet this younger guy has to keep saving him. And I don’t know why that’s so important to me, but it is. Maybe it’s because Keith is a character a large portion of the fandom likes to portray as more likely to be the damsel in distress, but in canon he’s such a solid character on his own. That doesn’t mean Shiro is weak - not at all - but I think it’s really refreshing to have the bigger, stronger, “can do no wrong” character needing saving for once. 

I’m so used to seeing gay relationships portrayed like an old cliche BL, where one man happens to be younger or smaller in stature and he’s the one who constantly needs saving. The big guy is never allowed to be vulnerable. But Shiro and Keith, they turn that on its head, and I just… I love it so much.

The exhaustion is setting in, my eyes burn and sting. Yet I cannot sleep. Too many thoughts. So much going on. I feel like I am on sensory overload. My head, gah, it hurts immensely. Throbbing, pounding, quaking intensely. Sick. Sick. Sick. So sick. Days. It’s been days since I’ve slept. Really slept where I have rested. I feel. Oh, how I feel every little thing. My mind. Turn it off, even if for just a moment.
—  Insomnia and the Episodes that Follow- intimatemermaid

Let her love you, Anders.  She loves you so damn much.

That was something that Isabela had told him.  She had initially dropped by his clinic because she had a cold, which Anders told her he couldn’t cure, and although she was extremely put out by this she quickly distracted herself with gossip.  She told him all about her latest escapades with the rest of the crew while he made her a concoction that he said would at least help a little with her symptoms, and then her words turned to Hawke.

She spoke of her teasingly, at first, but Anders deflected every one of her hints that maybe Hawke wanted more from him, and finally, frustrated, she’d dropped the bombshell before she left.

Let her love you.

She loves you so damn much.

It was bullshit, Anders thought, as he mixed up a potion later for one of his many patients.  It was just more teasing from Isabela.

And yet she had been so sincere when she told him.

His hands were shaking and had to take a break.

The phrase kept popping into his head over the next couple of days.  It didn’t matter where he was.  In his clinic.  Out on the road.  In bed.  He agonized over whether or not it was true, much to the chagrin of that particular side of the thoughts in his head which he recognized to be Justice.  She’s distracting me, he thought to himself, and he went back to working on his manifesto– for two minutes, before thoughts of her overtook him again and the words on the page trailed off and he caught himself smiling.

Let her love you.

She loves you so damn much.

The words echoed in his mind again a few weeks later when he and Hawke were on a mission to find evidence of a templar plot against mages– she was always, always willing to help him– and they came across a templar threatening a mage and the Justice thoughts in his head, the thoughts usually kept so carefully balanced with his own, all tipped forward at once, like water in a spout, and suddenly everything was terrifying and everything was unjust and everything needed to be fixed.

Except Hawke, who looked at him with tender eyes, who let one hand trail up to his face, never once pausing because he was all fierce blue fire and a booming voice, and somewhere, somewhere in the back of his mind–

She loves you so damn much–

His thoughts returned to equilibrium.  Hawke was standing there, in front of him, and her eyes were concerned, and her hand was on his face, and Anders ran home.

She came to check on him because of course she did.  He was plotting to run away, somewhere where he couldn’t hurt anyone, somewhere where he couldn’t hurt her

–and yet.

Her words stopped him.  Her complete lack of fear over what he had just been stopped him.  And she was approaching him and he saw the look in her eyes, and from his mouth words were spilling unbidden “You’ve seen what I am.  You saw what I almost did to that girl…”

“I know who you are,” said Hawke.

She loves you so



He kissed her.

That night he was in her estate.  He was having doubts.  He’d been having doubts all day; he was doubting everything as he walked into Hightown and into her open door.  She turned and looked at him and she smiled at him.

“When I was in the Circle, love was only a game,” Anders said.  And there was that word.  Love.  He dared himself to think that maybe it was true.  That maybe it had all been true, all of it, because he needed Hawke the way he needed air, the way he needed to see justice carried out.

And she took his hand.

And somewhere in the back of his mind, it was Justice’s thoughts spelling out that it this was actually Right.

She loves you, those thoughts told him, so damn much.

@teamblueandangry // Kindness


I really want Tucker to be friends with Thel'Vadam and Rtas'Vadum.

But I think it’d be really fun if Thel saw the Project Freelancer Faux-Spartan armor as a hereditary thing. My headcannon is that Sangheili design their armor after their clan or family and blue team unwittingly followed this tradition when making Junior’s armor with Tucker (and Doc’s) paint/scrap so as far as the Arbiter knows Tucker is the immediate family of a spartan or a spartan-in-training and has continued the family-armor-aesthetic with his own sangheili son.

Anyway, Thel knows that Spartans are rare and few in number so Tucker must be part of this prized warrior pedigree if he’s wearing the unmistakably Spartan armor, right? But who’s kin could he be? Those that Thel knows are either old or part of the newer generations, but in the Sangheili tradition armor color is important to denote bloodlines with more respected family members in darker, richer colors and younger ones in lighter, brighter colors. Tucker is bright as fuck blue-ish green! And he’s in solid color, no accents or anything so maybe Tucker’s only interested in claiming relation to his green family. Who is the only Spartan who wears dark green armor without accents? Who is old enough to possibly be an uncle if not his father?

Master Chief. John-117. SIERRA MIST OF DEATH HIMSELF. And Thel has stated in canon that Chief is his friend and ally. So when Tucker shows up on Sangheilios to be an ambassador and learn about his son’s people Thel just speculates that this Little Spartan (Tucker’s 5'10" in my headcannon which is short for a Spartan as Chief is canonically 6'7"-6'8" out of armor) is related to his friend in some way and should be treated well. But he mentions it in passing to Rtas'Vadum and maybe some others and it turns out the Sangheili are lousy gossips! If it isn’t classified it’s fair game.

And then Tucker’s being avoided/catered to because Old Ones help them if the Demon finds out his kin has been mistreated while visiting their planet. Peace with the humans is a fragile thing!

Tucker didn’t even want to be an ambassador! He just wanted to learn the language and culture for his son because he’s trying to be a good dad. The rumor took off though, and now the Demon’s kin is here- Little Demon and Little Demon the Second Coming of Lavernius! And then the warriors all want Junior to like their clans so when he’s older he petitions for membership because who DOESN’T want the infamous Demon’s bloodline to merge with theirs?! So Junior gets an army of friends his age as the adults push their offspring into potentially beneficial bonds but its okay because the kids are actually nice and Junior’s cool and his dad’s sword is cool and he knows the Arbiter and Rtas and the Swords of Sangheilios and he’s got the best stories about silly warrior humans.

When the UNSC gets word, oh hey we can totally use this to better interspecies relations! Wham bam thank you Ambassador Tucker. Which only adds to the problem as he has Rank and Title so if he is the Demon’s kin well now he’s coming into his own! The human Master Chief and the Arbiter are friends so of course the Demon would entrust his family with securing the peace.

Thel learns the truth from Tucker who is tired of this wishy-washy too-in-my-face and then not-helping-me-at-all behavior the sangheili keep switching between due to respect and fear for a man who Tucker doesn’t know and isn’t even related to. But it’s gotten out of hand so they need Tucker to just go with it.

As an apology, Thel helps him learn the language and how to use his key-sword while teaching him the history about the ancient Sangheili. Rtas shows up one day while they’re training and no Arbiter the bet way to kill a Brute in tight quarters is like THIS- and soon enough the Swords of Sangeilios, warriors hand-picked by the Arbiter, are putting Tucker through his paces. BAMF!Competent!Tucker is best Tucker.

Then they learn that the Covenant is investigating a temple in the desert supposedly built by the ancients which means Tucker’s sword can probably access it so then send him and a mixed squad of humans and sangheili. They die getting Tucker into the Temple to protect it and he manages to call the nearest Red base where Donut is so he joins him and later goes looking for help and we all know the rest.

On the Hand of Merope Tucker calls Rtas to catch him up but also inform the sangheili embassy of his impending arrival but holy shit the ship crashed. Later on Chorus, Rtas personally comes looking for Tucker only to find out his mentee/annoying friend has been stabbed and betrayed but uncovered a conspiracy and who else but the Demon’s kin would be put through such a trial (maybe he knows the truth but still likes to tease Tucker about it) and come out alive. Tucker regains consciousness enough to ask for the Sword’s help in liberating Chorus and of course the sangheili leap at the opportunity.The beam that’s been pulling down ships doesn’t target sangheili-built ships so Rtas and his men bypass it repeatedly in order to bring in troops and weapons and food. Damn this’ll look good for interspecies relations! and they’ll reclaim ancient sangheili ruins as well so win-win. Rtas struggles to speak english due to his severed mandibles so Tucker’s practically glued to his side translating sangheili like a pro. But then the warriors see that Tucker’s got a bunch of adolescent humans wearing his color on their armor so the Little Demon has been protecting the clan younglings and thats why he not yet returned! And of course this means that Tucker’s team must all be related to the Demon too, and more sangheili come and eventually there’s so many that individual members of Tucker’s “family” have eight foot tall alien guards following them around (mostly protecting them from Jensen’s driving). If Palomo thought Tucker was cool before you need a new word for the kind of admiration he feels for the captain now.

Carolina doesn’t like the Elites and certainly doesn’t trust them but haha, the only adult human female in Tucker’s colors must be his mate or kin and they say that she has nothing to worry about they’ll protect her hatchlings with their lives and they mean it to appease her but it just makes her angry and she chases Tucker down because she thinks he’s spreading rumors about them being together. He’s not because he likes his blood to stay inside of his body and has to spend a whole week explaining sangheili armor color family relations. She doesn’t end up hating it all that much because being mistaken for Tucker’s family/wife means that the sangheili obey her commands second only to Rtas, like Tucker. She does hate being called ‘brood-mother’ and the constant updates on the state of her and Tucker’s “hatchlings”- and does she approve of Palomo’s intended female from the red clans?- but the sangheili presence means that the army is running like a proper military outfit so she tolerates it. (she does like that the closest english translation of “brood-mother” is “Matriarch” so the english speaking aliens call her Matriarch Carolina). Epsilon fears she will go mad with power. The sangheili think Tucker has good instincts choosing the strongest, smartest, deadliest female for his mate and by the Old Ones she must be fertile for Tucker’s brood is plentiful and strong. And if the younglings are weak it is only because Matriarch Carolina is so strong her offspring can afford to be weak. What a luxury. And if they try to sell her up to Kimball because they can smell the mutual interest and think she’s just nervous and needs the help- which she doesnt but okay- then they are more than happy in securing the Demon clan another powerful female.

With the sangheili there in force, the army finds the second key-sword which is supposed to go to Wash because he has knife/blade experience but Palomo grabs it on accident and oh it must be a sign that the best of Tucker’s brood is a holder of the key! Rtas laughs in Tucker’s face. But this gets some of them to try and wing-man Palomo to Jensen because he’s Meant for Greatness and aaaahhhhhh its adorable. Eight foot saurian aliens delivering flowers (and fresh-meat) to Red Team Patriarch Colonel Sarge (its difficult to tell the different red shades apart and Simmons isn’t exactly authoritive) for Jensen, and listening to Palomo’s bad poetry and giving advice like you should emphasize her strong legs and uniquely dappled skin and her metal fangs! (she’s faster than him, freckles, and braces respectively). They especially like her metal fangs- maybe their hatchlings will get them!

The army chases Charon forces off planet and we get the epic sword fight between Tucker and Felix that we deserved, and the Swords of Sangheilios put the fear of god in Locus for daring challenge Matriarch Carolina. When Hargrove arrives the Swords and RedsandBlues fight his Mantis mechs and storm the Staff of Charon and Tucker doesn’t need a fancy suit in order to be awesome. They arrest him and finally lay ALL of Project Freelancer’s loose ends to rest.

Tucker takes Blue Team and Palomo to sangheilios and reunites with Junior and Junior tells him about teaching his friends how to play basketball and is it true you’re a hero dad? and its great.

BAMF!Competent!GoodDad!Tucker for the all the money.

uuhh cant you tell this got away from me? i love tuckington but i think i would make this gen.

anonymous asked:

"I bet i can get you to scream my name"- bellarke. PLEASE LVE U

Thank you anon, I love you too.

Bellarke, Modern AU, ~1850 words

For the prompt “I bet I can get you to scream my name” from this list.

On AO3.


Two weeks ago, at Raven’s end-of-summer beach party, Clarke made the maybe-mistake of hooking up with one of her closest friends. With, basically, her best friend, if she’s being honest. She’s holding back judgement on whether the encounter was actually a mistake or not until they talk about it, which they’ve yet to do; or until it destroys their friendship, which it has yet to do; or until something more grows from it, which hasn’t happened yet either. The last two weeks haven’t been particularly awkward, but nor has there been a repeat performance of their few hours of passion in Raven’s guest bedroom. Mostly, they just hang out as part of groups.

Then Bellamy invites himself over with a stack of DVDs and enough Chinese for four and Clarke figures, well, at least after tonight she’ll know.

Clarke’s not usually one to let other people, even less pure chance, make major decisions in her life, but this is a delicate situation, and it needs to be treated as such. Would she like to push Bellamy back against the couch cushions, straddle him, and then kiss every single freckle on his unfairly beautiful face? Yes. Would doing so be worth potentially destroying her friendship with the only person she knows she can call any time, day or night? No. And so far he’s given no indication that he thinks of the night at the beach as anything other than a fun, impulsive, one-off between friends.

But then again, neither has she.

This isn’t the first time they’ve spent their Friday night sitting too close together on Clarke’s sofa, his arm around her sometimes and her head on his chest, or his legs stretched out across her legs, but tonight each of these insignificant intimacies leaves her mind racing. Is Bellamy just doing what he always does, because nothing has changed between them? Is this a sign that they’re friends still, just like before? If he were afraid to touch her, that might mean he sees any contact between them as charged with meaning and consequence, an admission that whatever they started at the party isn’t necessarily finished just yet. Maybe, paradoxically, being affectionate is his way of telling her that their friendship is safe, not to be threatened by some sexual tension that might have, once, gotten just a little bit too strong.

Or maybe she’s overthinking all of this by half and the way his arm curls around her waist is exactly what it feels like: a nudging open of the door, a signal of openness, an invitation. 

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

there are places you can go. youth homeless shelters, social services, ominous mountains. you're not trapped.

[* That sounds so scary.]

[* You don’t know the phrase “better the devil you know then the devil you don’t”, but if you did and if you didn’t consider “devil” a bad word, and also if you’d ever use that to refer to your mother ever, you’d definitely consider using it.]

[* You aren’t ready to leave just yet.]

[* That’ll be in about a year.]

[* But, but, but…]

[* Oh, you’ve had so many hard thoughts today. You don’t like thinking about all this.]

[* You can’t sing when your voice isn’t working, but you can hum!]

[* Twinkle, twinkle, little star…]

[* How I wonder…]

[* …]

[* Getting to sleep is, as usual, much easier than staying there. Every distant dog bark and police siren chases away any time longer than an hour that so much as looks askance at you.]

[* Finally!!!]

[Previous] [All] [Next]

They told you good people forgive.

so you learned that when you tuck things
just a little deeper into the corners of your heart
in places where your thoughts can choose not to reach,
your mind calls it forgiveness.
But it’s 2 am and you’re tossing and turning
so everything starts to fall out of the corners
and every thought catches on,
you’re drowning and drowning
But it’s okay

Because they told you good people forgive.

So when you offered every innocent part of your heart you had to give,
one by one
because you thought they deserved it better.
You give and give
And they take it
stomp on it,
rip it apart
and give it back.
So you spend the nights sewing the pieces back together
and yet you go back and offer,
with hands that bruised and bled to give again
But it’s okay

Because they told you good people forgive.

So when it’s the middle of the night
and you can’t breathe
through parts of you he took and never gave back,
you fill the emptiness of it with excuses
you never thought you could give
because you need to breathe,
and you do what you have to do.
But it’s 9 am now and he’s says I’m sorry
so you take it and pretend
you’re not trying so hard to squeeze in those excuses that never fit
that it hurts, it hurts.
But it’s okay

Because they told you good people forgive.

So when you find yourself letting go out of habit
For people who made a habit out of you,
you try to cover every part of your mind that doesn’t give you space
to trick yourself into forgetting and forgetting
because that’s forgiveness you tell yourself.
But it’s that minute you stopped trying for a little,
and the thought that you’re actually
being taken advantage of
hits you so hard
you cover it up all over again.
Yet it’s too late because the truth left behind its impact
But it’s okay

Because they told you good people forgive.

So when you’re falling under
the weight of so many things
you were unable to leave behind,
you learned how tuck those things
just a little deeper into the corners of your heart instead
in places where your thoughts can choose not to reach,
and your mind can call it

Because they told you good people forgive.

My Destination (Translation)

by YuRiKa, from “Shiny Ray” single track #3

I couldn’t sleep, and opened the window
Though hidden by the clouds, the stars are still in the sky
More than any pain from running and falling
Or being wrong in my answer
That there are so many sights I’ve yet to see
I thought was far scarier, so I made up my mind

The map I drew that day is expanding
I’ve added so many marks
Whenever reality and my aspirations overlap
Your words give my back a push
“Be honest with yourself”
I will walk straight ahead, without hesitation
Towards the future I chose
Here, I’m still only in the middle of a long journey

The waves dyed in daybreak
Glitter just a bit too brightly
But I kept watching as the sun rose

Rather than running to the gentle dream I had last night
Or ignoring my feelings
Accepting my own weaknesses
Seemed far more enjoyable
If that’s so

Instead of drying my tears
I’ll increase the times I smile
My hardened footprints create a path
To the far ends of my future

“I’ve taken a detour”
Is the sound of my newly born hopes
Always ringing out
So lend me your ears

The map I drew that day is expanding
I thought about it carefully, again and again
I’ll embrace my joys and regrets with these hands
To know that light I can’t yet see
“I’ll be honest with myself”
At a place I chose
I believe that I can meet a new me
Here, I’m still only in the middle of a long dream

Looks Can Be Deceiving - BTS Preface

Originally posted by doona-baes

Words: 1,530

Genre: school au, angst, fluff, (possible smut in later chapters)

Summary: You’re dream came true when you were accepted to go on exchange to South Korea. You had planned to focus on your studies and make friends, and them you met Kim Namjoon. He was the perfect guy, or so you thought…

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, possible smut).

A/N: Welcome to my first fic! This section is just a little back story, so members won’t be mentioned yet. Inspired by many talented writers (check recommendations), and my love of school aus. I’m a new writer so I’d love some feedback.

Preface | Chapter 1


2 months prior

After exchanging goodbyes with my mother, I accidentally slammed the car door shut and sprinted up the lane way from the cul-de-sac. I hauled the bag that was in hand onto my back and began setting up today’s ‘to school’ soundtrack.

This was the usual to school routine, as the lane way took me to a set of lights adjacent from the residential train station. I was on time for the early bus for once. It was 7:43am, meaning I had supposedly 19 minutes to get to the bus before it left. Supposedly, due to the drivers preferred to be ahead of schedule and not care too much for the stragglers they left behind.

Realistically, I had to catch the next train, the 7:47, or the 7:52 at the latest, to make the 6 minute commute to the next station. The bus would probably leave just before 8 if the driver kept the early streak they’ve had for the past month. I’m not a fan of having to do math this early in the morning just to keep my well-rounded attendance. Too many numbers for someone who is NOT a morning person.

I made my way across the street, Monsta X blaring in my ears, blocking out the unwanted attention of the world. I mouthed the words “Monsta. Monsta!…. X. X.” as ‘Hero’ matched my pace. I arrived at the platform as the train pulled in. Perfect timing I smirked to myself.

taking a seat in the corner of the car I was in, I looked out the window and daydreaming about going on exchange to South Korea. Goodbye, Australian education. I had applied for the exchange a month ago now, and had already heard the buzz of the acceptance letters being sent out.

The thought of getting that letter made me want to squeal and stamp my feet in excitement - My version of a happy dance. Yet, the celebrations would have to wait as I was yet to receive news. Was I going to South Korea instead of graduating next year? Well, I’d graduate, it would just be in South Korea. I was prepared for that, as well as for the possibility of being away from my family for a year.

I snapped back to reality as the automated voice announced the arrival at my stop. I strolled up the escalator with the fluidity of a dancer, as if I was in the music video of the current song that came on only minutes prior.

I reached my bus stop to the lean, shy figure of my friend Raine. She was an artist and a genius. An artistic genius. She had hazelly-brown eyes, a gently sloped nose, and light brown her in her usual ponytail. She greeted me with a hood-eyed smile, mirroring my own. She gave me a quick hug with her hello. I had converted her into a hugger mwahahah. I’m an affection person and Raine became the only person who I could express that with.


My ex boyfriend, Antony, and I had a rocky relationship. A very rocky relationship. As dramatic as it sounds, it really was filled with lies and betrayal. I had shared the same friendship group, which meant everyone got involved, intentional or otherwise, in whatever drama we were going through at the time. Even Nicole when he got her to fight his battles. 

It was safe to say I did not get along with his best friend; a woman that he worked with that was 4 years older than him. Keep in mind, we’re in high school! 

On top of this, drama was caused especially with one of the only other girls in the group, who held an unprecedented grudge against me; Ebony. No matter how hard we tried for everyone’s sake, we just couldn’t get along.

Everything took a turn for the worst,

Long story short, Antony cheated on me with Nicole - he knew it would hurt me the most - yet, somehow I ended up being the one in the wrong. I should’ve seen it coming, but I didn’t. The people I cared about most turned against me, including Michael and my best friend since birth, Danny. That’s what hurt the most.


I barely speak to any of them anymore, which puts a negative in my week, as I only have one class without any of them. Art. It gave me another reason to want to be accepted into the programme so badly.

I made small talk with Raine about upcoming assessments and her current animes she was struggling to keep up to date with. I wasn’t the only one who felt like study was taking over their life. We got on the bus and took “the long way”, which was just waiting an extra stop to get off. It was tradition. Raine was definitely one person I was going to miss if I went on exchange to Korea.

Naan and Taelah were sitting at the usual bench when I had arrived. I was happy to see them, but the close proximity between the groups of my new and old friends was too close for comfort. They always acted like I never existed.

“…but why did he kill him? I mean, it was already too late to save her so that wasn’t going to do much good…” Naan asked innocently, with her perfect pronunciation of each letter, hinting at a Sri Lankan accent.

Her thick and wavy black hair was in piggy tails. A new favourite hairstyle of hers. Her big brown eyes slightly squinted in confusion, allowing them to match her brown skin. She was so pretty. I’d take exotic colouring over vampire pale any day.

“Because he was mad and upset, Naan. Not everyone is as innocent as you” Taelah said, switching from an authoritative to teasing tone of voice.

Taelah was your typical Australian. Short brown her that had seen the contents of a hair dye bottle a few times, tall and white but able to tan. Lucky girl.

To an outsider, the topic must have seemed sinister, but you knew better.

“STILL going on about the season finale of that anime?”.

I knew some anime, like Attack On Titan, Fairytale and One Punch Man, but there weren’t many others that interested me. I thought subtitles distracted me from the whole point of a movie or show; to watch.

“Yes! It was the most emotional ending ever! oh, y/n! You don’t understand!” she fake sobbed and her head fell into my shoulder, as I smiled at the soft impact.

I chuckled softly as I curled a hand up and patted her head in a soothing manner.

“Aw, Naan”.

Almost as soon as the words had fallen from my mouth, the annoying sound of the school bell hit my ears. That’s something I wouldn’t miss.

“Wait!” Naan quickly jolted to an upright position to stare at me with wide eyes. 

The sudden reaction drew the attention of Taelah. Both of us exchanged a glance as our eyes fell back onto Naan.

“What?” I give her a raised eyebrow to pair with my response.

“So?” She began to tense with excitement as she stared at me expectantly. I had no clue what she was on about, and from the looks of things, neither did Taelah.

“Just spit it out, Naan. we have no clue what you’re saying.” Taelah said bluntly. Something I admired about her.

“Tae! How don’t you remember? we were just talking about it before y/n got here!”

A wave of realisation visibly washed over Taelah as she suddenly clicked with what Naan was asking. She suddenly smiled as an “Ohhh…!” fell from her lips. She turned to me with a seated jump and the same expectation in here eyes as Naan did. I was slightly intimidated and even more confused.

“Guys, you realise I still have no idea what’s going on, right?”

“Korea!” The practically squealed in unison.

I had completely forgotten to check my emails now that I was connected to the school’s wifi.

“Oh my god!” I said to myself. How could I forget?

I practically sprinted to my locker with the girls in toe, throwing open the plastic door and snatching my iPad.

I began to shake as I unlocked it, as my eyes scanned over an amazing picture of Seoul that was currently my wallpaper. I pressed lightly on the little blue icon with the white letter on the front. My hands were getting clammy and my heart was beating faster. I was the only one out of our group of three that was allowed to apply. My getting in was equivalent to all of us getting in. I refreshed the page, loading… loading…loading… and then my breath hitched.

The blue dot was situated next to the Subject: South Korean Exchange Programme.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Tae pushed, the excitement in her voiced matched the excitement building in her eyes. Naan nodded feverishly in support.

I clicked open the email:

            Dear Miss Y/F/N.

            We would like to in form you-

“I GOT IN!” I screamed.


THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! The next part starts mention members and y/n will finally be in Seoul! Please let me know if you’re liking this and think it’s worth writing more. I have a few other ideas I want to bring into play and to create more fics! Again, THANK YOU!

Title : No Man is an Island

Author : @sternenmaler

For : @moshimochi

Rating/Warnings : General Audiences, No Warnings

Prompt : ( post-sdr2 ) Komaeda and Hinata sleeping together, ( post-sdr2 ) Komaeda and Hinata making up from a fight

Author’s notes : I really wanted to use the ‘making up from a fight’ prompt but it took me so long to think of a good reason TT I probably irritated you quite a bit with my cryptic asks! But I wanted to focus especially on how Hinata has to cope with his own identity problems while still taking so much of his time to help out the others. I do hope you can enjoy this fic and thank you so much for letting me write this !

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Maybe Someday: Preview

This is a preview for the impending project for Winter Comiket (Dec 2014) which will be a composite of a novel and manga.

This novella is a Shinohara Kenji backstory and his first assignment. Translation is in progress for it to port into Japanese and Chinese are in progress.

We were going to post this for White Day suprise gift to celebrate Shinohara winning the Valentine’s Day Poll but due to our upp'ed schedule last week, Jo just completed this illustration this afternoon.


Maybe Someday

          They said nothing, from the moment they met in the Administration office and exchanged a quick handshake.  He was gestured to follow and he did, a few steps behind the middle-aged man with a neatly trimmed salt-and-pepper hair.

          He followed, watching the sway of the long coat and the fabric buckle that dangled from its waist line loops.  They walked in silence until they reached the near empty parking lot and paused at a dark blue sedan.

          The older man didn’t speak until they were both in the car and the doors closed.

          “From this point forward, you are not to introduce yourself by your real name.  Do not acknowledge it, even if you ran into your friends.  Understand?”

          A wallet was pulled out from the glove box and shoved into his hands.  He looked at it and instantly, an amused smile grew on his face.

          The wallet was his police ID with his picture and his new name. 

          “A complete and a new profile was created for you under this name,” the old man continued and gestured to the opened glove box.  “It’s all in that folder in there.  Read it.  Memorize it.  It’s your new life.

          “Shinohara Kenji,” he said his new name out loud.  It was strange hearing it. 

          The old man started the car. 

          “I’ll brief you the rest later,” he said.  “Study your profile.  You don’t have a lot of time.”


          “This is a sensitive assignment,” he was told as soon as the door shut behind him.

          Shinohara pulled out the seat that was tucked into the table and sat down.  The man had led him into a small office in a non-descript building in Shibuya, surrounded by the noisy bustling buildings that welcomed the hip and trendy.  Although he was within the age range of the crowd that gathered in that part of the City, Shinohara didn’t like being there.  It showed.

          “I assure you this is really government-owned building,” the man said, catching Shinohara’s frown.  He took off his jacket.  The man wore a laminated badge on a lanyard with the man’s photo on it. Beneath the headshot, it said “A. Asakawa” and the Tokyo PD Crest under that.

          “Sure,” Shinohara said.  “Are we waiting on more people for the surprise party or is this it?”

          Asakawa laughed.  The wrinkles around his kind eyes gathered, making him appear older and more paternal.  Shinohara knew Asakawa was a cop at the first look.  The kind that spent years on the road and even more years in the office – yet he’d not forgotten his roots.  Shinohara guessed Asakawa to be in his late 50s with all of the wisdom and calm of men twice his age.  Shinohara liked him.

          “Because this is a sensitive assignment,” Asakawa said, pulling up his briefcase that had been underneath the table and placed onto the polished tabletop.  “Your contact with the official channels will be limited to just me.  I will be your handler.”

          “For? I’ve not even graduated from the academy yet.”

          Asakawa snapped open the latches to the briefcase but he didn’t open it.

          “We have to recruit someone who had not been introduced into the police department yet,” Asakawa said.  His fingers tapped the leather surface of the briefcase for a few moments.  “Let me start over.”

          Asakawa pulled out the seat and sat down in it, angling his chair toward Shinohara.

         “The assignment involves a rather big and deeply layered organized crime outfit.  As much as it pained me to say it but even the Superintendent do not know how many cops in what offices are on…friendly terms, let’s just say, with them.  So we have to use someone whom no one in the active department anywhere, have yet met.”

          “It’s quite …” Shinohara said, gesturing to find the right word to finish his sentence.  “…bizarre to use a newbie that’s a months short of graduation for something that requires you to brief me in a stuffy little room.”

          Asakawa shrugged. 

          “I thought so too,” he said.  He opened the briefcase and pulled out a thick bundle of papers bound into a manila folder.  “We don’t really have very much time to put another plan together or find the person with considerably more experience that fit our requirements.  Your instructors assured us that you’re perfect for the job.”

          A corner of Shinohara’s mouth pulled up and he laughed.

          “I am not one of the best trainees and I annoy most of them.  It’s kind of a daily routine that at least one of them reminds me I’d make a shitty patrolman.”

          “They told us that too.  But they’ve been in the business for as long as I have.  They have an eye for people with particular talents,” Asakawa said.  “And they are probably right.  You don’t have the capacity to write tickets or listen to someone tell you about why they plowed their car into a pole.  They see a lot more potential in you than doing those menial things.”

          “If you are trying to flatter me, it’s working.”

          Asakawa grin widened. 

          “People gravitate toward you and want to follow you.  You have a very strong personality.  You test poorly on paper but you are the best they’ve seen in practical situations.  You think very fast and can act efficiently and naturally in difficult situations.  I can’t send most 20-year veteran patrolman to do this job but I am quite certain I can count on you.”

          Shinohara laced his fingers together, laying them on the tabletop.

          “I would be blushing now, if I wasn’t too entirely aware of what this assignment might mean.”

          “I’m not going to tell you it’s easy,” Asakawa said.  He laid down the thick manila folder and opened it.  There’s a glossy color photo of a young man posing in front of a water fountain was pinned to the inside cover. 

          “Cute,” Shinohara said.

          “He’s the youngest son of one of the Upper House Parliament members.  And reason why this assignment has to be very quiet.”

          “The kid did something unbecoming of a son of an important man?”

          “Very much so,” Asakawa said.  He reached over and turned over a few more pages of the paper in the folder for Shinohara until another photo turned up.  An older man this time, perhaps in his 30s – with groomed looks that made him look more like a Host at a ladies club than a salaryman, even in his prim suit and tie.

          “The kid’s name is Rei.  You don’t need to know the last name or about his father.  He turned 19 a month ago.  In fact, he met Mitsura,” Asakawa said and tapped at the photo with his finger tip.  “…at his birthday party in a club in Shinjuku.”

          “And they’ve run off together,” Shinohara surmised.

          “If it were just that, this would have been easy,” Asakawa said.  “Mitsura’s one of Teraoka Group’s doll collectors.”

          “Doll collectors…?”

          “Slick men like him troll the Clubs primarily owned by the yakuza to pick up good looking young men and women.  He’d befriend them, become their lovers.  Separate them from the existing family or friends then encouraging them to go into a sex trade at the very Clubs they were picked up from.  Or worse, they simply disappear.  We assume they were tricked into leaving the country with promise of a casual vacation and they never return.  Not very much follow-up we can do then, since we end up fighting over jurisdiction whenever we try to investigate the leads.”

          Shinohara flipped back to the picture of the young man and studied it.  Rei was smiling brilliantly in the picture.  He was leaning against an elaborate water fountain with a stack of open clam shells with water sprouting from them.  Good looking kid; the kind that a quick look will tell someone of his privileged life.

          “He confided to a friend that Mitsura had gifted him a ticket to Hong Kong and had asked the friend to provide him with the alibi for the four days he would be gone.”


          “That was a week ago.  We believe Mitsura had taken him to one of the hotels Teraoka operated out of.  A small place but very elite.  We have no doubt most of the trafficking Teraoka did happen at that hotel and where Rei is likely to be at.”

          Asakawa opened his briefcase again, this time he pulled out a white plastic binder.  He dropped it atop of the papers in front of Shinohara.

          “Learn this in one day.  While you pack and we’ll get you a passport.  We fly out to Hong Kong on the 8AM flight the day after.”

          Shinohara opened the binder – his eyebrows furrowed inwards, mystified.

          “Cocktail recipes?”

          “You have a spot in as one of the bartenders in that hotel.  All you have to do is find Rei, snatch him and get him to the nearest American or Japanese Embassy – as fast as you can, in any way.”

          “That easy huh?”

          “Could be,” Asakawa said.  “Impress this old man and I..rather, the Powers that Be can guarantee you any job your heart desires that exist in Tokyo PD.”

          “Ah,” Shinohara said.  “Nice to know I might want to refrain from telling you what I really think of this half-assed plan.”

          “Yes. Please do refrain.”

themortalviolinist  asked:

Number 2 with Clary and Alec!

Clary, Alec + Awkward Subway Conversation

The rush hour train was packed and Clary had to stand, jammed between two other people which made her extremely uncomfortable. Not to mention they were much taller than she was and didn’t seem to realise she was there. She was having trouble breathing. She tried to squeeze out from between them but was unable to move, and when she tried to ask them to move they couldn’t hear her over the rattle of the train in the underground tunnel.

‘Excuse me,’ a voice said. ‘You’re crushing that girl.’

Both people looked down, surprised to see Clary there. They stepped back as best as they could with murmured apologies and Clary slipped out from between them.

The boy who had helped her was also tall, but gave off the impression that he was trying to make himself as small as possible, with his hunched shoulders and hands stuffed in his pockets.

He waved Clary over to him, where he lifted his backpack off a seat and offered it to her.

‘No, it’s okay,’ she said quickly.

‘I’m less likely to get crushed standing up,’ the boy said.

She couldn’t deny it, so she thanked him and sat down.

The boy was looking down at her with his brow furrowed in thought. ‘Is your name Clary?’ he asked.

Surprised, Clary nodded. ‘Have we met before?’

‘You’re dating Isabelle Lightwood?’


He smiled. ‘She’s my little sister. I knew I recognised you. There’s a photograph of the two of you on her phone lock screen.’

‘Oh!’ Clary said. For a moment her girlfriend’s brother’s name completely slipped her mind and she panicked, not wanting to look rude. Then it came to her. ‘Alec, right?’

‘I’m surprised she mentioned me, I was starting to think she was hiding you from us,’ Alec said.

‘She’s mentioned you a lot!’ Clary said. ‘I mean, she complains about you a lot but I don’t think she means it.’

‘If I tell her I’ve met you she’ll have to bring you round for dinner sometime, she’ll have no choice. Mom has been asking her for weeks.’

Clary laughed, even as her stomach tightened at the thought of meeting Isabelle’s parents. She knew why Isabelle had not introduced them yet. Isabelle struggled with commitments. Not because she didn’t like them, but because they made her panic. She was scared she would get too attached and then Clary would leave her, stranded and alone. She had never explained it to Clary in so many words, but Clary had pieced it together from little things Isabelle had said over the three months they’d been dating. So Clary had assured her they’d take their relationship slowly and had never pressured her.

‘You know what, maybe it’s best if we don’t tell her just yet?’ Clary suggested.

Alec smiled. There was a little sadness in his smile, but something else too. Something like approval. He knew his little sister well.

They spent the next five minutes making small talk – school, Alec’s boyfriend, how Clary and Isabelle had met – and then the train pulled into a station and Clary had to get off.

She got to her feet. ‘I look forward to meeting you for the first time,’ she said.

‘Hopefully it won’t be too long,’ Alec agreed.

When Clary stepped onto the platform and looked back to wave, she saw Alec offering her vacated seat to someone else rather than taking it himself, and with a surge of relief realised she genuinely liked her girlfriend’s brother.

Don’t Look Back

And now for some Captain Swan! A little ficlet written using the speculation that the Underworld is gonna be 5B.  It breaks pretty much all of @lenfaz‘s fanfiction rules… so oops?

When he awakes, the world spins and he feels as though he might be sick.  He rolls to his side, retching, though nothing actually comes up.  

               He’s vaguely aware of a scrambling sound, and then hands carefully smoothing his back.  

               “Easy there, Little Brother,” a warm, familiar voice murmurs.  It’s a voice Killian hears almost nightly in his dreams, and so it doesn’t matter that it’s been well over a century, the answering response comes so easily.

               “Younger brother,” he grits out, and then he freezes.  His stomach his more settled, though the quick spin he makes to look behind him probably isn’t one of his better choices.  But Killian doesn’t matter.

               He knows that voice.

               He knows this face.

               It’s haunted him for so long, but in those nightmares he always looks wan and grey.  But now, Liam looks so very alive. Vital and healthy, and he grins at Killian, and it’s the same grin he would give every time he asked if his little brother was ready for their next adventure.

               “Liam,” he gasps out, and lunges forward. Liam catches him in his arms with a laugh, and they’re hugging and slapping one another’s back, and Killian can’t remember being this happy since… since…

               “Swan, welcome back.”

               She throws herself into his arms, pressing kisses onto his skin, and Killian can’t stop smiling, because he had never given up on getting her back… but seeing her there, being unable to touch her, had been so damn hard.

               “I love you,” she chants.  “I love you. I love you.”

               “Aye, Lass, I know,” he replies, and she pulls back, her eyes firing, but Killian just laughs again – too full of joy to hold it in – and presses a searing kiss to her lips.  When they pull apart, she is flushed and panting, and so is he, but he finally, finally, says the words that have been on the tip of his tongue for so long.  “I love you too.”

               The memory dampens Killian’s joy somewhat, and he releases his brother, troubled.  Because Liam is dead.  Liam is dead, and Killian’s last memory is of holding Emma, but now he’s in unfamiliar territory, and there is Liam, and suddenly, this doesn’t seem like such a joyous reunion.

               “Am I dead?” he asks his brother softly, his heart breaking at the thought that he’s left his Swan behind, after swearing so many times that he’s difficult to kill.  The question wipes the joy from Liam’s smile as well, turning it bittersweet.

               “Not exactly.  Not yet.  We’ll get you out of this, Little Brother.”

               “Younger brother,” Killian reminds him again, and Liam’s answering laugh is enough to distract Killian from his brother’s choice of words.

               Liam had said they would get Killian out this… but he hadn’t said anything about himself.

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Calum Imagine: Werewolf AU Part 2

Author: Rhine

A/N: Day 5 for the Halloween AU countdown! The first part was actually written by Julie last year for our last Halloween AU week, so I thought it was appropriate to continue it for this year, given how many people had expressed a desire for a continuation previously. I do hope you guys like it, despite having the authors being changed! Also, check out Day 4 of the AU Countdown by Alexa - if you love Luke and ghosts and pirates, you’ll adore her latest imagine. 


Part 1


Do you remember what happened?

Black fur and paw prints in the mud, red leaves on the forest floor that crunched underneath your boots and jacket pulled close to your body, pointed ears and gold eyes, nuzzles against your leg and long tongue lolling out, eyes closed and soft whine when your small hands met the warm body of the wolf curled up next to your legs.

Do you remember what happened?

Five or six wolves in the forest, flashes of bronze, gold, sand, ashen, mahogany, and bleach – Michael bleached his hair again – fur, darting in between the thick pine trees and sturdy cedar trunks, the crunch of leaves and the sniffling of snouts, the soft whistle of pine needles falling from low branches and birds rustling from above as they flew away from the wolves hiding below.

Do you remember what happened?

Playful yips, light nips on hind legs and tails, occasionally barking when you see one younger wolf get a little too frisky with one of the elders – Calum’s notorious for biting back, hard – you would know – chasing one another around in the autumn wind, mouths open to show their sharp teeth as they ran in circles, mouths open as they bounded towards you, mouth open as they come too close and skin against fang –

A squelch of human flesh against animal teeth, the thud of a tackle and the vicious snarls of a black wolf with haunches raised against the burgundy wolf with your blood on its teeth; it’s alright Calum, I’m alright; the quick shift back into the boy with heavy breaths and panicked eyes that look at the gaping holes in your skin, glaring at the boy who reverts back with leaves in his brown hair.

Blood is oozing and Calum’s tearing off his shirt to staunch the wound but he knows, he knows it’s too late and all it takes is a single prick, nevertheless a bite; you don’t know why you feel every vein travelling through your body or every nerve that goes back to your brain, you don’t know why your blood is rushing like a tsunami or why your brain is having an electrical storm; breaths haggard, knees shaking, you’re on the ground in Calum’s arms and you don’t know how you got there, you don’t know why your vision is more blank than seeing, you don’t know –

“Do you remember what happened?”

There are dark purple circles under his eyes and the wrinkles on his shirt are so predominant that they might be permanent, much like the creases of worry on his forehead.

He’s sitting by your bedside and you recognize the room as his, but you can’t remember how you got there or why you’re wearing one of his overlarge t-shirts.

“I… I only remember – I only remember being bit by one of the newly transformed. I was bit.”

He leans closer to you with his hands wrapped around yours, the veins popping from how hard he grips onto you and you feel every bump, every bruise, every scar, every millimeter of his skin – and then he lets go.

He slowly releases himself from you, shoulders slumping, deflating – and when he looks to you again, you see the gold of the wolf in his eyes and you know he’s howling somewhere in the crevices of his bones, you know the tears are behind his eyes but he’s pushing them back in because he’s drowned too much in them in the five days you were gone right by his bedside.

“You were bit. You’ve turned.”


“I… what?”

“You’ve turned. You’re going to turn. You’re going to be….”

“Half puppy. Like you.”

He can’t even try to smile at your attempt at playfulness, and that’s when you know it’s bad.

He bites his lips – and judging by how red and swollen they were, you don’t think this is the first time – and he bows his head, shoulders hunched.

“I’m sorry.”

He whispers the words and they come out cracked; he’s said them so many times to your lifeless body unconscious on this bed and his heart chips more and more every time at the thought of all he’s done to you and all he cannot do for you now.

“Cal… Cal, don’t be sorry. It’s nothing, I swear – okay, so I blacked out for a couple of hours. But it’s no big deal. I’m awake, I’m here; it was just a little mistake by a rookie who wasn’t quite ready to control himself in his new form yet, Cal – oh, Calum. Please… please don’t cry.”

Your words trail off when he lies his head on your lap, shoulders starting to shake and tears setting in, his sorrow spilling onto your legs like a broken dam that he couldn’t keep in; your innocence, your sweetness, your smile of bliss – gone.

“You don’t understand.”

His voice is muffled against your lap and your fingers are in his hair, his tears against your soft skin.

“I never wanted this for you.”

He whispers the word and it comes out like a whimper, the noise from his lips tearing your heart at its raw fragility.

“What do you mean, Calum?”

“All of… this. This life. Of being half human, half… animal. Full freak. Of losing control – of killing – of tasting human flesh and forgetting how to turn back again, of waking up and not recognizing your own skin, of ripping a piece of yourself out and putting a piece of the moon in, of being a monster – you don’t deserve this.”

“Calum, I – “

And you never stopped to think about what he does on night of full moons to have you swear on his life to not follow him, to come back too late to be innocent, to not look at you in the eyes for days.

“When you are a werewolf – when you are a monster like me – you are less than human, you are more than gods. You are the creation of torture on subjects and insanity of experimenters, you are folklore that has always been feared, you are a disease that people kill and a curse that some spend their life trying to end.”

“When you are living like me – when you are half living, when you are half surviving – you are more sinner than saint, you are more damnation than salvation and there is reason why God didn’t make animals like us, though god knows why humans would stitch up something like me. When you are a werewolf, you are not free. You are plagued, and I – “ he’s starting to crack, he’s losing his words and his eyes start to fall from your own, “ – I was the one to infect you.”

“Calum, no – it wasn’t you, it’s not your fault, I – “

But the words start to die one after another like a train crash on your lips and you don’t have anything to say to the boy with the red eyes and drying tearstains on his face.

“I wanted to protect you from all this.”

“Well… now I can protect myself.”

“You shouldn’t have to. You shouldn’t have even needed to, and you wouldn’t have – if… if you hadn’t known me.”

Calum. It’s not your fault – and besides, we would have found each other another way anyways, what with being Connected and all.”

“Then I should’ve left.”

“You don’t think I would’ve followed you?”

He’s silent.

“Calum, I would follow you to the ends of earth, to heaven and to goddamn hell if I have to – and what’s done is done. I… I know what’ll happen to me. I still don’t know what happened to you, but I promise – I promise I won’t see you as any less, and I promise we’ll find a way.”

He holds your stare and this time it’s you pleading for him to believe instead of him begging you to tell him this was all just a dream as he waited by the bedside.

“It’s a full moon tonight. Your first change – it’ll… it’ll hurt. More than anything. It’s always the worst, the first. And I – “

I never wanted to see you like this.

“I have you. And… and that’s all I need to be okay.”

Please tell me it’ll be okay.

He looks unconvinced, but a touch of soft lips to the top of his head releases a teaspoon of the worry in his scrunched eyebrows.

“We’ll get through this.”

He doesn’t tell you that not everyone survives the change.


more imagines here!

Guardian- The Voice

Dipper Pines was glad to say that his second summer at Gravity Falls was nowhere as strange as the first.  Weird still of course, he was pretty sure that it was the weirdest place on Earth, but this year there was far less… chaos.

No evil child physic trying to steal the Shack, no cult erasing people’s memories, no mermaids in the public pool.  All in all it was much quieter.  He found this as both a blessing and a bore.  He wasn’t constantly worried about his and his sister’s lives, but now some of adventure was gone.  At least now he got to explore the mysteries of the town without some invisible force attempting to stop him at every turn.

All in all everything was normal- as it could be.

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