still waiting for an a quality version of this picture but you know

Bachelorette, Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Prompt: You’re starting to question your place in life when you find out your best friend is engaged.

Words: 1,550

Author’s Note: It’s been awhile, huh? Life’s been a bit crazy and a lot of my writing attention has gone to Cafes and Late Nights, but I was able to get this one together! Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Drinking.

Askbox | Masterlist


“You’ve got an admirer, ten o’clock.” Pippa’s tipsy voice sounded from next to you. You ignored her insistent tugs at your shirt sleeve as you ordered another water. “Come on! We’re in a club, you’re single, he’s attractive.”

“Then you talk to him.” The bartender smiled as she offered your drink, a sympathetic look for the designated driver. Pippa wiggled her ring finger in front of your face.

Oh. Right. The whole reason you were out tonight, celebrating.

Pippa’s impending marriage was certainly something to go to a club for - Paul was a good guy and he supported her and you definitely weren’t pissed off that anti-hopeless romantic Phillipa Soo was tying the knot before you were. Sure, you were excited for her and couldn’t wait to squeeze yourself into whatever unflattering maid-of-honor dress she picked for you, but there was a cloud of uncertainty looming in the distance

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anonymous asked:

Phantom thieves and hogwarts houses GO

YOU JUST MADE MY DAY. HERE WE GO FAM (I’m not finished with the game so since I don’t know much about Haru we’re just gonna go through Futaba)

Starting with my best boy Ryuji Sakamoto IS A HUFFLEPUFF AND THERE IS NO ARGUMENT AGAINST IT. I will accept that Ryuji has Gryffindor qualities (bravery, not afraid of confrontation, risk-taker, etc) but that boy is NOTHING if not LOYAL. Ryuji is sunlight incarnate I will accept no other metaphor. He cares about literally everyone before he cares about himself. He literally offers to be beat up if it would make his old team feel better (pls). He is relationship-driven and his risk-taking behaviors, his confrontations, his passion for justice all come from helping out someone else. Definitely the kinda dude that would consider the house elves in a dire situation. He’s so aggressively selfless that it’s almost like “pls care about yourself first just once.” Ryuji time and time again puts other people before his personal needs and safety without a single second of hesitation. He just DOES it. And he’ll do it fifty times if you need him to. If you call him at 3am crying he’s showing up in your room, sneaking you into the Hufflepuff common room for snacks.  If you don’t have a pencil in class, he’s giving you his without mentioning it’s his only one (s’not like he was gonna do nothin’ with it anyway). You about to head into a fight he’s got no stake in? Doesn’t matter, he’s got your back. He once punched a student for making snide comments about another student’s sexuality and he has no ragrets about it. A blushin’ fool whenever someone is tender towards him cause he’s so busy being that/doing that to everyone else he doesn’t think about being on the receiving end. He’s just happy to make someone else smile, ya know? HE IS KIND. HE IS TRUE. HE IS A HUFFLEPUFF.

Akira Kurusu is 3000% a Slytherin. Dark, mysterious, smug ass mofo. A leader of his in-group (teenagers being the in-group, adults being the out-group) and thus inclusive in the sense that anyone who joins the cause can be a Phantom Thief. Where a Hufflepuff (Ryuji) might do anything for anyone they care about impulsively, a Slytherin pauses for a second, calculating–instead of diving headfirst to save Ryuji in the first palace and ending up with nothing, he hesitates and that’s when Aresene is like “so u gonna let the boy die??” and akira is like “no gimme a second there’s a fucking mask on my face.” His persona is all about MAGIC and DARKNESS if that’s not obvious enough for ya. This boy is snakey sneaky, all cunning eyes and cocky smiles and deep, mocking laughs. He knows he’s powerful and he’s not afraid to show you that he knows it. What’s wrong with knowing your own strength? Let’s not forget he is a master of interrogation. The ultimate trickster, he’s not above pulling dumb pranks on you and blaming it on a Gryffindor for its lack of complexity. He a good dude, tho, because obviously Slytherins aren’t bad. He gives his plant nutrients to make it stronger bc he likes building something up to be more than it started (most ppl would just water it but aiight dude). He’ll casually walk up behind you while you’re getting bullied, sling his arm around your shoulders, and be like “something the matter?” Totally threatening without a single verbal threat. Secretly loves bubble baths, will give you a scathing look if you even try to tease him about it tho. 

Ann Takamaki, Gryffindor extraordinaire. She starts out kinda timid but she’s actually daring af. She keeps a relationship with Kamoshida who is the worst man alive just for her friend’s sake, but she also isn’t afraid to ignore Kamoshida’s calls (hesitant =/= afraid, ok). Fiery af, Ann is liable to go off on you at any time for a bunch of really good reasons (and some just ok). Ryuji, stop being a dick. Akira, enough brooding. Morgana, shut up for once. Just as spirited as Ryuji, but his light is like warmth and hers is like scorching. Like…literally, her specialty is fire these things write themselves i swear to god. Extremely passionate, especially for the things she believes in like The Phantom Thieves, Shiho (obviously), and giving people courage to stand up for themselves. She really wants to prove herself, seen esp in her social link, and be strong for herself and others. She’s headstrong, kind to the little guy, scathing to the big guy. She’s incredibly competitive and gets into eating contests all the time in the Gryf common room (she also wins every time, especially if the food of choice is crepes). She knows she is beautiful, and is thus confident, but avoids being vain by reminding herself how each person she comes across is also beautiful (”pretty eyes, biggest heart”). Feeling insecure? Call Ann, she’ll hype you up in under ten seconds. Spend an hour with her in a crowded room and you’ll swear it was just you two the whole time. Ann is giving, courageous, and ready to fly off the handle if need be. 

Yusuke Kitagawa, my darling painter boy, is a Ravenclaw. Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back!!!!! Yusuke is a Ravenclaw through and through. He wants to know more, wants to expand his understanding. He’s not afraid of doing whatever it takes to achieve these things: he’ll spend hours watching the river, waiting for something to come to him, or he’ll awkwardly approach a couple in love and ask them what their love life is like (he needs to know for a painting ok it’s not a sexual thing). He is elegant and fluid and his definition of “the finer things in life” EDIT i’m dying i accidentally wrote “finger things in life” the first time depends on how much he knows about it and how much value he sees in it (for example, a cup of coffee brewed by Akira is one of the most delicious things he’s ever known, much finer than any rich person food, purely for the effort it takes to think of the beans, to make sure the water is the right temperature, etc). Gets lost in his head all the time. Has an understated air of haughty in certain situations, like he’s fully aware he’s better than u but only mentions it to remind you when it seems you’ve forgotten. Uses way too many words to describe a sneeze just because he can.  Yusuke doesn’t give a shit who you are: if you came out to him, he’d nod solemnly and then ask if he could interpret your emotions into an abstract painting (that he would then gift to you, of course). He’d ask you on museum dates, historical bus tour dates (why yusuke why), planetarium dates *cough*, even if things between you two were totally platonic. He just likes discovering, especially with someone he can bounce ideas off of. 

Makoto Nijima is, brace yourself, a Gryffindor. WHAT. yes. trust. Dis girl is POWERFUL. And you can be Ravenclaw and powerful too, no doubts about it, but just because she’s top of her class doesn’t mean she’s Ravenclaw. She studies cause she’s competitive. She’s student council president because she likes the status, the power associated with it (power to protect, to serve, not corrupt power). Makoto is also fiery like Ann, but in a different way. She doesn’t fly off the handle like Ann can; Makoto calculates first, strategizes, and then fuckin’ GOES FOR THE KILL. She’s a headshot kinda girl–take em out simply, easily, quickly (metaphorically speaking obvs she doesn’t go around killing ppl). Queen is a very apt codename because Makoto’s path is a fiery blaze of ambition and strength. She’s gonna get what she wants because she’s been working very hard for it and don’t u take that away from her u piece of shit. She’s not terribly confident though, and this sometimes makes her feel uncomfortable in the Gryf common room when everyone is talking about their achievements. She’d rather just show than tell. Not really a master of stealth (lol), Makoto is your big sister in the hallways always looking out for you. If someone breaks your heart she will literally punch them in the face (and apologize profusely afterwards, but you know she’s secretly p pleased with herself). She likes learning new things about the world, always turns it into a competition with you even if it pushes her boundaries (you two went to a strip club once and even though you put a dollar on the stage, she one-upped you by putting it in a thong, face blushing so hard but determined to overcome). Her drive and determination are her biggest, most redeemable, wonderful qualities. The rest is just the happy byproduct. 

Snarky is as Slytherin does for Futaba Sakura. This girl is a nightmare in all the best ways. Somehow she figures out your weakness just by looking at you and has the ability to absolutely destroy you in just a few words. What she doesn’t show is the literal hours of research she did on you beforehand: she bugged your robe, your wand, set up a camera in your common room…a girl’s gotta have intel, alright? Futaba is an actual mastermind of everything, but the Hat settled on Slytherin because of how Futaba intended to utilize such knowledge. She doesn’t love it for the sake of knowing it, she loves it for what power it gives her. Futuba loves the upper hand and having full view of the whole picture, so Slytherin’s innate ability to lead a situation and turn tables was a huge calling point for her. If Akira is the dark mysterious Slytherin, Futaba is the loud and out of control Slytherin who nobody messes with because she’s got dirt on everyone and the means to release it widely. She prefers to stay in her room than gather with her house or other classmates, often completing assignments from there, but no one minds because it’s not like she’s really gone. She conjures up stand ins for her and speaks through them, engaging without really engaging. Watch out for when Akira and Futaba team up tho–they’re the Slytherin version of Fred and George, conniving and ruthless when it comes to playing tricks on you. Like Akira, she’s still a good girl: she understands anxiety better than anyone and is well known for comforting students who fall into a panic attack. She struggles with social situations sometimes and no one makes mention of it, this time not because they’re afraid of her but because they care about her and they know she’d never cross a line with them, so why cross one with her? She just likes to wield information like a weapon. That’s all. >:)


I forgot Morgana lmao so you can find that here

Lost and Forgotten

Chapter Five

Warnings: angst, smut, fluff

(Prologue) (Chapter One) (Chapter Two) (Chapter Three) (Chapter Four)


“(Y/N)?” Bucky’s voice resonated in your ear as he followed your gaze to the door. “(Y/N)!”

You dashed towards the entrance, determined to confront your father. You had no idea why he was showing up in your life again, you needed to know why. You needed to show him how done you were with him, that he was to stay away from you.

The world spun around you as the cool air hit you. You pushed the people around you, searching for him. Tears backed your eyes as your hope diminished. Was he at the bar as a coincidence? Had he known you had spent a few nights there a week or so ago? Was he trying to find you and toy with your goddamn feelings?”

“What the hell is going on, (Y/N)?” Bucky huffed behind you, desperate to figure out what was going on.

“I…” You paused, you couldn’t tell him what was going on. “Nothing, I thought I just saw someone I recognized.” 

“Who did you think they were?” He was prying.

“No one.” You whispered, still looking around for your father.

“So, no one makes your demeanor change to a terrified child and then causes you to run out after them?” 

“Yeah.” You sighed, knowing your dad was gone. “Can I sleep at your place tonight?” You didn’t have high hopes, you assumed he’d say no.

“Fine.” He sounded angry but you ignored it. “Let’s go.”

“Thanks.” You watched him call as cab, knowing you’d have to tell him something about yourself to get him to calm down.

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Do You Think I’m Cursed? || ‘Heathens’ One-Shot

Summary: A prequel to Part 3 of “All My Friends Are Heathens.” Your first conversation with Bucky when he tells you about the story behind his dark limb.

Pairing: Vampire!Bucky x Reader
Word Count: 1594
Genre: AU
Warnings: Mentions of blood, violence and disfigurement

A/N: So this part is pretty much the backstory into Bucky’s past that I wanted to write apart from the series, but connected to it. I wanted to focus more of Part 3 on the reader and Bucky getting a little…closer. ;)
I warn you now that I’m an extreme dork and that I’m far too deep into this monster universe…far too deep.

Click HERE for a little more character information.

| Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 Prequel | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 |

Originally posted by sherryzizi

Originally posted by dancing-at-the-funeralparty

You spent the morning after your return getting reacquainted with the sense of security and stability that being home offered you. You had initially planned to take some time and relax your travel-worn body, but your curious mind had other plans. Your thoughts kept trailing back to Bucky, more specifically, to his hands.

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Why I can't go back to western music

I’ve been a kpop-per or a fan of kpop for about a year and a half now (maybe more, I’ve lost track) and one of my friends - who introduced me to kpop incidentally - was trying to get me to watch an American show and get back into western music and we had this huge discussion on why I can’t see myself truly ever going back. I think a lot of you would understand where I’m coming from and maybe even feel the same way. But anyway, this is just what I think.

Quality of music

Honestly, the biggest variation between western and Korean (to some extent, even Indian) music is the quality of it all. And I’m not talking about Korean/Indian/East Asian music is clearly better. I mean the level of production and work that goes into it. Even though the album’s are released after years, I don’t think western music (the ones I’ve heard especially) can have the production quality of Korean music.

Sidenote: because it’s going to get super annoying trying to consider all kinds of music let’s just say I’m trying to consider the western pop I was exposed to - Taylor swift, rihanna, Ariana Grande, Beyonce, Shawn Mendes, one direction, 5SOS etc to the Korean music I’m exposed to - BTS, exo, vixx, got7, Nell, Epik High etc. So these are the two grand umbrella sections of music I’m talking about.

The complexity of production in EXO’S exodus or even love me right repackage album is definitely more than any of Taylor Swift’s work I’ve ever seen. And they’re both pop artists. Lyrically, western music does have a better hand on English music but Koreans are doing just fine lyrically in Korean too. But that gets me to the next point.

Lyrical Mastery

As a bilingual person, I’ve always been more drawn towards older languages like Urdu or Chinese. Ofcourse English is an old language too but the English we see in western pop is too watered-down and don’t try to deny me. I feel like some jazz British musicians still keep the french+English part of it alive but it’s mostly “shawty get low” and I have nothing against it except that I expect a little more from the music I’d like to listen to.
Korean music on the other hand, is bloody plain simple to those who hear it, yes. But the idea of Korean rap has always inclined me to think that the command these rappers have over their own language, enough to make people speaking the same language admire them, must be quite a lot. Again, not denying that we have the Korean version of “shawty get low” in Korean music too. Like Psy’s gangnam style. But we also have Epik high’s Amor Fati and BTS’s whalien and VIXX’s Shangri la. Because I’m exposed to songs where witty idioms (BAEPSAEEE) and slangs are promoted - I like this side of music more. If I’m getting brilliantly produced music with amazing lyrics then why should I complain. Amirite?

Quantity of Music

If we talk about quality then we have to talk about quantity too. An average kpop group has a comeback atleast thrice a year. Ofcourse there are overachievers like exo and Bts who have 3 Korean comebacks and a tour and a Japanese comeback all in one year. But my point is, that’s an average of three mini albums. Atleast 12 songs from just one artist every year. It’s bloody brilliant don’t you think? I nearly died waiting for 1989 to even launch. And Adele is awesome but duuuudeeee waiting for every two years to hear your beautiful voice is painful. I’m a selfish consumer of music and I’m not afraid to admit to it.


Extra Footage

Even if we are just talking about music we can’t avoid focus on the artist themselves. In this fandom culture, the person who makes and sings the music is just as important. Kpop groups have their own reality shows, variety show appearances, broadcast stages, and then there is the plethora of content that is VLive. Do I even need to go on? As a psychology student I can literally give you an assessment of who these kpop members are in real life and what they’re like. That’s HOW much content is out there about them. Want to know what jinyoung from got7 wore to the fashion week in Seoul? It’s out there. Those fansites are no joke.

I can never see the western world ever investing so much video time and footage into their artists. Other than magazine interviews and variety shows like Jimmy Kimmel, there isn’t much out there. Which probably does a lot of good for their privacy tbh

Fandom Power

To be honest if I had to decide between my local thug group and the army, to fight a war for me, I’d choose the army. Have you seen the fandom? They’re savage. They could break into airport security to get a picture of jimin’s arse. Are you even looking at what they’re doing to BBMA’s??? And other fandoms?? They could feed half a town from all the money they collect and all the album’s they buys and the food trucks and birthday missions and such. Asians are just far more passionate about their fandoms ok you can’t deny this. Chinese fans? Honestly scare me. The airport pictures alone scare me.

How are fansites zooming into each pore on sehun’s face????? Incredible. Paparazzi, take notes.


Well I have a lot more to say, considering all the background work that goes into creating broadcast stages and stage outfits and THE CONCEPTS GUYS THE CONCEPTS but this is already too long a post so imma keep it for later but yeah
I can’t see myself being truly loyal to western music anymore.

DeLiteful rain

(the file name for this was “rooni dazlib btw)

Something of the Wolf, Chapter 1

This is a prompt fill for @doctorroseprompts pulling out all the stops for Bad Wolf month. It’s a Bad Wolf reveal addressing Rose’s longer life and telepathic abilities as a result. Also a Doomsday fixit and a Jack Harkness reunion with a side helping of established relationship Ten x Rose because I never do anything by halves.

Summary: Rose was able to hold onto her lever just that little bit longer and she and the Doctor both walked away from Canary Wharf. But it wasn’t just coincidence that kept them together, as the Doctor and Rose are soon to discover. There may be a bit more than just something of the Wolf about Rose Tyler…

Chapter 2 | 3Ao3


“I want to go through the flat.”

Rose’s pronouncement, delivered over breakfast the morning after Canary Wharf, prompted an instant of stunned silence from the Doctor. He had been expecting an entreaty for a relaxing spa planet or a quiet day in, not a determined set of the chin and a firm demand. He swallowed, buying time to respond.

“Rose, are you sure?” As Rose’s gaze took on a steely glint, he quickly backpedaled. “I mean, we live in a time machine. You don’t have to do this right away, you could take some time…”

Fortunately, Rose didn’t seem offended by his suggestion. She sighed, and her demeanour softened slightly.

“I know, but I want to do it now,” she said, picking at her granola. “It’s just… all that belongs to my old life,” she said, putting down her spoon as she gave up all attempts to feign appetite. “I don’t want to have it hanging over my head for any longer than it needs to.” She fixed him with a frank look. “I wanna move forward, with you, Doctor.”

The Doctor found himself once again humbled by Rose’s love and devotion. He’d all but destroyed her family the day before, inadvertently forcing her to choose between himself and her mother. After their initial rush of passion and relief had burnt itself out, once the Doctor had taken care of her various injuries, Rose had cried herself to sleep in his arms, the full consequences of the day crashing down on her all at once.

For all that she’d so strongly advocated that her mother go to the other world with Pete, it didn’t make their separation any easier to bear, and the Doctor knew that. He’d assumed that she might withdraw a bit, take some time to adjust to her new circumstances before she could be her old self around him. He wondered if there would ever come a time when Rose Tyler would stop surprising him.

“It’s your decision, Rose,” he said at last, meaning every word. He’d learned his lesson after his aborted attempt to send Rose to Pete’s World against her will. She smiled at him; a small smile, but the Doctor counted it a triumph nonetheless.

“Thank-you, Doctor,” she said, rising and beginning to clear away the remnants of their meal. At the sink, she hesitated, biting her lip as she looked back at him. “Could you… I mean, would you mind…”

The Doctor’s hearts twisted. “Of course I’ll help you, Rose,” he said quietly. “You don’t have to ask.” Reassured, she turned back to the dishes and he grabbed a towel, watching the movements of her hands within the suds as she methodically cleaned their plates.

Was it possible that she was unaware that there was absolutely nothing in the universe that he would deny her, if it was within his power to grant (including a number of things that weren’t, if he were being completely honest) even before she essentially renounced her family in order to stay with him? Half of him was of the opinion that this was a situation that should be rectified immediately and the other half lived in terror of the day Rose figured it out. Still, he felt Rose deserved a tangible symbol of how much she meant to him, and he set the idea to percolate in his brain as they made their way to the console room.

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Yuri on Ice interview translation - Spoon 2Di 2016/12 (p38-41)

Here’s an interview with Manabu Ootsuka, producer and actually also representative director of animation studio MAPPA. It appeared on the Dec. 2016 issue of Spoon 2Di. It’s very interesting, as it’s a still different point of view compared to seiyuu and other creators. It only covers the first 4 episodes because Spoon is published earlier than other magazines and this issue was sold in stores at the end of October.

By the way, in the interview he mentions Sayo Yamamoto’s short anime “ENDLESS NIGHT”. It’s also about figure skating and it’s really beautiful. I highly suggest checking it out! (It’s not hard to find, just lookup the title on YouTube..) I admit I just watched it today for the first time too because I didn’t know of its existence… 

I will also take this chance to encourage everyone to appreciate the role of Sayo Yamamoto in YOI. Mitsurou Kubo is on the SNS and you see her name often so everyone knows her, but Yamamoto is as involved in YOI as Kubo is (if not more, since the idea to create YOI in the first place was hers). As you can read in this interview too, many of the brilliant ideas in YOI come from her. Apparently she is very busy so there are still no interviews with her, but I hope we’ll see something in the future.

Since the article is quite long I’m putting it under a cut. Enjoy!

***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***

MAPPA producer Manabu Ootsuka interview
“Yuri on Ice” has gathered many skilled creators, among which director Sayo Yamamoto and Mitsurou Kubo-san. This show, that stands out for its quality even when compared to other original anime, has been supported by the production studio MAPPA. We have invited its producer Manabu Ootsuka to ask him about inside stories and the appeal of this anime.

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Dumbapples and LOVELESS
  • Why the hell they exist
  • Why Angeal Hewley is a very important character
  • Why Genesis is 99.9% going to die
  • LOVELESS act 4 and act 5 interpretation
  • SE is planing a more Sephiroth centered compilation title?
  • Adding the exchange between Zack and Cloud to Zack’s death scene wasn’t about Cloud or Zack, but actually about Sephiroth and Angeal.
  • Remake speculations

Ok yeah, I know LOVELESS doesn’t have an official interpretation and everyone are free to think of it whatever they want, but I just have to say..

Ok kidding, I actually didn’t see ANY theories about LOVELESS, since I’m guessing everyone trust Hojo about it being pure drivel, and well.. Genesis pretty much just made the whole thing look like a joke…

It’s not though..

But in order to understand why we had to suffer through an entire game of Genesis quoting that dumb poem we first need to talk about….

★·.·´¯`·.·★Dumbapples★·.·´¯`·.·★

Because they’re kinda important apparently.

So Exactly like Angeal says here,

So ofcourse there’s a reason why he suddenly starts rambling on about dumbapples in the middle of Wutai mission. (specially considering this is one of the first scenes we see)

In story, From Angeal’s point of view, I think it’s pretty telling why he felt like talking about something that seems like has absolutely nothing to do with Zack or the situation there. Genesis deserted in Wutai, Zack is taking his place on this mission, obviously Genesis is on Angeal’s mind even if he doesn’t say it, and he’s thinking about their friendship and about what the hell is going on and what it means Genesis betrayed them like that. 

Angeal is telling Zack about his friendship with Genesis, but since Zack doesn’t know enough to make any connections there yet, it’s more like Angeal is affirming something to himself or is trying to tell Zack what will happen if they run into him here and maybe even about his own true objective on this mission (to help his friend).

And I’m sure there were lots of people, who just like Zack, scratched their head at that story and were like “Ooo k…whatever Angeal.. I don’t really get it, but ok…” and never really thought of it again.

But Crisis Core is kinda built in a way that the player is supposed to be like Zack, you know, just screaming at everyone “Huh?? What the hell do you mean?? What the hell is going on??? Why no one explains anything to me??” and towards the end with more information gradually revealed throughout the game, just like Zack, we are finally supposed to be able to put all the pieces together (if you were really paying attention that is).. Only I guess almost no one does, because it’s kinda hard to see anything through all those tears and hunky men.. (took me awhile too, damn you Zack and your gorgeous face and tragic life story!)

Anyway, it seems like the dumbapples in Crisis Core are kinda telling us about the friendship between Sephiroth, Angeal and Genesis, or more precisely about Genesis’s friendship with Sephiroth and Angeal. (since he’s the focus in CC)

And yeah I know the popular opinion and even official sources make it seem like the 3 of them were really close friends and everyone for some reason just accept it, but..

Notice that in all cases we’re always told about a friendship but we’re not actually shown a friendship in the game, we are shown something completely different. And that happens to be important.

And I think the dumbapples were put there to kinda tell you what was really going on beneath the surface.

And ofcourse I’m not trying to ruin anyone’s lovey dovey ASG headcanons or put holes in anyone’s ship, I just think it’s important to understand the nature of the 1st class trio’s friendship in order to understand the ending of Crisis Core better (and CC in general) and what it means for the future of FFVII.

So forget all the happy lies fanon has taught you for a sec, and lets look at what the game hints at. And I’m sure to some this is not something new, because it should be pretty obvious if you pay attention to things, but I just gotta cover this before I get to LOVELESS.

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anonymous asked:

FAHC prompt: "Why are you looking at me like I'm dinner?"

shit, I’m so sorry this took so long. I’m not even sure if you’re still hanging around anon… this prompt literally went through like 5 different versions before I finally came up with this. hope you like it if you’re still out there!

“Ryan,” a voice sings in his ear. “You’ve been avoiding me.” The Vagabond sighs and pointedly doesn’t look behind him.

“I have work to do Gavin,” he responds. “I need to get this done for Geoff. I can’t afford any distractions right now.” He hears a huff and then the sound of Gavin flopping down onto his couch.

“You’re no fun,” the Brit says, sounding particularly childish. “And you’re a horrible boyfriend. We haven’t hung out in almost a week! I’m hurt, Rye-bread.”

“No you’re not, you’re bored. You’ve avoided me a lot longer when you’ve been in the middle of a job. A week is nothing.”

“Do as I say, not as I do, love,” comes the quick response and Ryan sighs again, knowing this isn’t going to be the quick exchange he was hoping it would be. Or at least, the quick exchange he was telling himself he hoped it would be.

“Gavin, please. The sooner I get this done the sooner we can spend some time together. I’m almost done planning this out, just give me another day.”

“I want to spend time with you now!” Gavin whines. “I’ve been really patient! I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Gavin,” Ryan stresses. “You realize this is counterproductive, right? I’m not going to get this done any faster with you pulling this shit.”

“I think you’re just grumpy ‘cause you haven’t gotten laid in forever. Which is really no one’s fault but your own,” Gavin replies, sounding bored now. “I mean, seriously Rye, here you are with the supposed love of your life in the room and you won’t even look at me. Why won’t you look at me, boogie man?”

 At this, Ryan twitches. He can’t resist. Gavin only ever uses that nickname when he’s feeling particularly playful and playful Gavin always works out in Ryan’s favor. He knows he can’t look, if he does he’ll give in and he can’t afford that right now. If he doesn’t get this job all worked out before tomorrow night, there’s no way he’ll finish in time for Geoff. So, he ignores the shifting he can hear coming from the other side of the room, and the heat that’s pooling in his gut, and goes back to work without giving his boy a reply.

Honestly, he should have known Gavin wouldn’t give up that easily.

The crew’s golden boy is quiet just long enough for Ryan to start to get suspicious. He’s just about to text Michael to see if he can distract Gavin and tempt him away from Ryan’s office when his phone buzzes with a new message.

A picture message.

From Gavin.

He shouldn’t open it, he knows that, but the temptation is too great and Ryan would be lying if he claimed that the dry spell of the last week hadn’t been getting to him. Besides, he misses Gavin, misses their dumb, cheap dates and stupid pet names. He wants to be tempted just so he can give in and convince himself that at least he tried to stay on task.

He swipes the message open and breaks. It’s just a selfie but it’s selfie from a Gavin who wants something so it shows off all his best qualities in all the best ways. Ryan only looks at it for a few seconds before he finally gives in and turns to face his couch.

“Hey Rye-bread,” he hears as soon as he turns around, but fuck if he can be bothered to reply, not with Gavin looking like he does. Fuck, pictures are never as good as the original. No picture could compare to the living, breathing treasure laid out on his shitty couch. He’s just wearing one of his regular silk shirt but its unbuttoned three buttons too many. His hair’s tossed attractively and he’s  forgone his usual sunglasses, meaning Ryan can see his hooded green eyes. His legs are spread out and his arms are splayed across the back of the couch, stretching his shirt and pulling it open. And shit, the come-hither smile on his face is such a familiar and welcome expression.

Dear lord, that fucking expression.

“Gavin,” Ryan says, unable to tear his eyes away from the seductive, knowing look on the Brit’s face. “Why are you looking at me like I’m dinner?”

Gavin’s tempting smile changes into a smirk. “Maybe it’s ‘cause you are,” he says. He holds his arms out, motioning that he wants Ryan to pick him up. “C'mon big guy. You know I’ve won. Time to carry me to my room and ravish me until dawn. Chop chop.”

Ryan isn’t even ashamed that it takes him less than ten seconds to get up, cross the five feet separating them, pick a laughing Gavin up into his arms, and carry him out of his office.

Geoff can fucking wait. Ryan has more important things to be doing.

mypiafan  asked:

Imagine Jamie survived Culloden and went through the stones and wind up in the hospital where Claire is now a Doctor. Frank is not in the picture. :)

[Eloise comments: So due to a joke and the resulting draft conversation, this turned into a somewhat strange AU. This is dedicated to the amazing Mod Wheel, whose birthday passed recently. Happy hedgehog, Wheel!]


“They certainly have you looking lovely, mo nighean donn,” laughed Jamie as a scruffy, ridiculously-clothed Doctor stepped out of the familiar blue police box on-screen.

“Oh stuff it.” The Doctor replied, settling in beside her companion with some tea and toast.

“With pleasure!” He replied, snatching a slice of toast off her plate.

“Oi!” She made a grab for the toast, but he gobbled it up before she could snatch it back.

“I like bananas!” Jamie protested, as though that excused his actions. “Ye ken that.”

“I should never have introduced you to banana daiquiris” She grumbled, carefully balancing her plate on the armrest away from him before nearly overturning it as she gestured angrily at the TV.

“Honestly, why is it always a man? For a show with such imagination, you’d think they’d be able to conceive of a non-white and/or non-male timelord.”

“Weel they canna do that. After all, he is a doctor, aye?” He replied nonchalantly, washing his stolen snack down with a swig of coffee.

She turned to him, furious, to find him grinning foxishly back at her. 

“Watch yourself there laddie, or I’ll drop you in the Paeleolithic age and leave you to the mercy of the glyptodons and sabre-tooth tigers.”

“I could hold my own.” He said confidently, leaning back and propping his feet on the small coffee table. 

The Doctor snorted.

“And besides, ye’d come back.”

She raised her eyebrows “Oh would I?” 

“Ye ken ye’d get lonely without me, even if ye did have the nice-looking Nine lad the watch on the box.”

The Doctor grinned. “Don’t risk it, that’s one interpretation of me I have no problem spending lots of quality time with.”

Jamie opened his mouth to protest, brow furrowed in jealousy, before catching a glimpse of his own TV counterpart.

“Speaking of interpretations, I’m nothing like that gowk!” He exclaimed, gesturing at the mop-haired Scot talking with the TV Doctor.

The Doctor laughed. “Really? I think it’s a rather flattering portrayal.”

Jamie scowled. 

“I dinna ken why that lout inspired yon American to write about us.” He commented, with a nod to the blue book on one of the side tables whose cover bore a crown and thistle.

“Well, at least she got it mostly right, except for the nonsense about the Stones.” The Doctor allowed. 

Jamie cocked his head and hummed in agreement. “Hmm, and te be fair, ye did show up on Sanhaim, and a tad worse for the wear at that.”

“Damned Daleks.” The Doctor muttered, recalling the cold, wet night she’d met Jamie after one particular plan of hers went awry and she’d had to beat a hasty retreat. Unfortunately the Tardis had been a bit too enthusiastic about that course of action and had spit itself back out a few centuries later than she’d expected, and a few countries away from where she’d intended. 

“And it was some time before we made our way back to the wee large box.”
That too was true, the Doctor having been taken prisoner by the friendly MacKenzies and separated from the Tardis for a good few years. Luckily it had disguised itself as a faerie stone and, superstitions being what they were in Jacobite-era Scotland, nobody had dared take a closer look.

The Doctor took Jamie’s hand thinking, as he was, of their abandonment of his people. For all she’d explained that you can’t change a fixed point in time, it had been hard for them both – him in particular – to leave them to their fate. They had ensured Jamie’s family was as safe as they could be, and his tenants too, but in tying his fate to hers, he’d been unable to shape history himself as he would have. 

“It wouldn’t have worked, Jamie.” She reminded him for the hundredth time.

“I ken. And ye canna know how happy I am that I’m able to stay with ye. But…”

“You mourn it the life we could have had there.” It had been some years now, but the Doctor knew he still imagined them living in a large place with a couple of children running around. In another world, perhaps that would have been possible.

He nodded. “Aye, it would have been hard, but then, so is this. And in this, we’re alone.” He noted, reminding them both of that this little distraction was merely a way to calm their nerves as they waited.

“Well, alone except for the 12 other version of us, plus our book counterparts.”

That teased a smile to his lips.

“Aye, except for them.” 

Just then they heard a mechanical noise from outside.

The Doctor sighed and reached for her disintegrator gun. “Well, I guess break time’s over then.”

Corpse Party PC & 3DS - Victim’s Memoirs (1/?)

Sachiko, we beg of you…

  Sachiko, we beg of you…

     Sachiko, we beg of you…


…That’s how it all began. And so it begins again…

We’ve just announced a Corpse Party double bombshell: a release date for the digital PC version of the game (April 25th via Steam, GOG, and Humble Store, for a list price of $14.99) as well as release plans for the 3DS version, which will be dropping in both digital and limited edition physical forms in North America this summer (nothing to report yet for Europe; sorry!). Counting our previous digital PSP release, this means the very first Corpse Party title will now be available in English on three major gaming platforms, widening the spread of Sachiko Ever After all the more (truly, we are doing Sachiko’s work here!).

But this brings up a crucial question: if you can only pick one version of the game to play, which will it be? Each of the three has something unique to offer, despite all being fundamentally the same game. And there have been a lot of concerns and misconceptions surfacing on this and other topics since our announcement went out yesterday morning – so I’d like to take a moment to assuage the most commonly voiced worries, as well as provide a general breakdown of the three editions to help you figure out which team you’re on.

Keep reading

Top 5 Season 3 Olicity Moments

Ciao Jen,
You are a fantastic writer, really! but I miss your answers on your blog so here’s my question .. What were your 5 favourite Olicity moments of season 3? thank you <3
annap-olicity


I miss writing answers on my blog!! I’ve been in a fanfiction hole. What is this thing they call sunlight? But I’m peeking my head out to answer some asks. Hope you don’t mind me pulling this off fan mail. I thought it was a fun question.

Let’s dig in…

Keep reading

madnessinthemist  asked:

About the body pillow: What are the details? Like, what material is it? Is it machine-washable? Will it be soft, or should we kind of lower our expectations in that regard? Is the picture printed, or is it threaded? By extension, will the picture eventually peel if not handled well or washed gently (like a graphic tee)? This is the first time I ever considered getting one of these, so I don't know if this is standard information or if there's a default;; Thank you (and I love your art omg)!

I haven’t got the example yet but I will state from what I heard from the shop I ordered! (very well-known among the artists in my place tho!)

The fabric I chose called Hanako fabric. The shopkeeper stated that it was imported from Japan. It could be washed in washing-machine (but suggests hand washing for longer lifetime) The texture is thick, soft and very delicate loomed (with high price.. TwT). Also no need to be ironed and very durable.  

Sounds good right? x3 But I haven’t got the example of it yet so you still have time to consider buying this.

 I will get the example soon so please wait for my previews!

oh also this is the picture the shopkeeper sent to me. (**It’s older version which I initially drew just for my personal use so pls ignore the name on his arm bahahahahhaaa / On the current version, I have redrawn some parts too such as his shoulder, hands, the cross and etc.) 

sorry for low quality pic because I saved it from FB messenger..

anonymous asked:

I've been out of loop for a long time, could you please tell me what hand-holding pictures happened in Brazil? Thanks!

On May 7, 2014, the boys were in Brazil for the WWA tour and they went to visit Christ the Redeemer. This pic were taken:

Bigger version, but lower quality & with a watermark:

Basically they’re totally holding hands in that picture. This little outing caused us a lot of pain in general because they were just being adorable.

Brazil was so good to us. Also, I hope Harry and Louis know we’re still waiting to see that selfie. I haven’t forgotten. I’LL NEVER FORGET.

002. Children of Divorce

Originally posted on my removethemaskandregret account, but I’ve lost my information for that account so I’m reposting everything here. Thank you. 

Harry: Returning through the front door of his home in Chelsea, London, Harry pulled his hands from the pockets of his faded blue jeans and stopped dead in his tracks at two suitcases packed in the corner of the entrance way along with three labeled and concealed cardboard boxes. He wasn’t surprised by them, he was well aware that this was what he would be coming home to after being away on the American leg on the latest tour, but it was the way the bags were waiting for him, how they looked cloaked in the darkness of the room, and exactly what they symbolized that really upset Harry. His stomach sank while his blood boiled within and Harry had known the two could happen at the same time before. While he and his wife had been struggling over the last year and worse so when he was on tour, he hadn’t expected her to at least be there and waiting when he returned. She had told him that she would pack his things for him and he could move out swiftly upon his UK return, but Harry still figured she would be waiting and they would be able to talk about the break before they went on one.

Sighing, he rubbed his hand over his mouth and felt the jet lag take over his body. He was exhausted. He may have been standing inside his own house, but he knew he wasn’t supposed to be there right now, that he wasn’t welcomed. So, he ignored his tired bones and went over to his corner of things, bending at the knees to pick up the top box marked ‘Harry - Kitchen’. Even though he and his wife were going through their problems, he knew she would be kind enough to not leave him high enough. They had been friends for so long and married for four and a half years, the least she could do was be civil. As soon as Harry turned to go back outside, he realized he wasn’t alone. At the bottom step of the staircase stood Edwin Styles in his small stature, dressed in his Curious George pajama set that was still just a smidgen too big for him.

“You’re going already?” His voice was quiet, he knew he was supposed to be sleeping, but today was the day that his dad was coming home and he hadn’t seen  him off of a magazine or computer screen in nearly three weeks. It would be unreasonable for a boy of three to be able to not stay awake in anticipation. Besides, he had so many questions that his mother wasn’t properly asking. Before Harry could answer his son, he continued, “You just got here.” Edwin held onto the rail with both of his tiny hands and helped himself down to the ground.

“I know, but…” Harry was so happy to see Edwin again, his mini partner in crime with already bouncing curls, and the last thing he wanted to do was disappoint the boy by leaving again. He didn’t have much of a choice though. Eventually, Edwin pick up on how unhappy his parents were together. He might not understand it now, but Harry knew that space was what he and his wife needed. Edwin would benefit from it, even if it didn’t feel right. He reminded himself that this was only temporary. It wasn’t cast in stone. He could very well be back in his own home with the family he made in the future.

“Mum says you have to go stay with Grandmum.” Edwin saved his father the trouble of having to come up with a child appropriate version of the truth. Harry had considered telling his little boy that he was going back on tour, but it didn’t feel right to lie to his child. He didn’t want to teach him that. He was going to go stay at his mum’s house, and then, maybe, a hotel or to Louis’s. “Why?” Edwin continued.

“Because…” Harry wasn’t sure what to say next. Edwin was standing there, looking up at him with huge blue eyes that could swallow someone whole, just waiting for his Dad to answer him. Harry had performed at a multitude sold out arenas, visited countries all over the world, made millions of dollars, but answering his son felt like the most challenging thing. “Because…” Once more, Harry reminded himself that this was only temporary and put down the box to his side before kneeling close to his son and looking at him with intensity and sincerity. “Eddie, Mum and I are going to spend a little time away from each other.” He hoped that if he said it softly, Edwin would react better to the news. Harry didn’t know exactly what his wife had told their son already. “Just for a little bit.” Harry added at the end, but mostly for himself. He didn’t like to think of it as a step towards divorce, it was only a separation. People could reunite from those

“But you just got home.” Edwin whined. A trial separation was a foreign concept to someone Edwin’s age. All he understood was his Dad had gone away, come back, and was now leaving again.

“I’m going to see you, don’t worry.” Harry pulled at Edwin’s pajama shirt and straightened it out over his shoulders. “We’re going to go to that football game the day after tomorrow.” Edwin had yet to learn the order of the days of the week yet, so it was easier for Harry to say it that way. He was about to wrap his arms around his son, ask him how he was feeling, but he saw a light reflect from upstairs and he knew his wife must have heard Edwin awake or Harry come home. That was the worst part about big houses, sound carried. “You need to go back to bed, though. It’s late.” It was 9 PM. Edwin was just about to turn around and battle the stairs again. Harry swallowed the growing lump in his throat and closed his eyes to bury the tears threatening to slip out. “Wait, Eddie,” He called for his son to turn around. His arms were wide open and impatiently waiting to devour the little boy in a big bear hug. He held his tiny  body in his grasp and for a moment, Harry actually considered trying to wrap his son up and take him along with the boxes. Would his wife even notice? Of course she would. “I love you, little man…” He whispered into each one of Edwin’s ears once and inhaled through his nose as the tears defeated him and fell down his face.

“You don’t have to go, Daddy.” Edwin managed to let slip from his pink lips, even though his dad was crushing him with his hug so strong. Harry leaned back for a moment to see his kid’s pouting and hopeful face. He thought, maybe, if he said it, his dad would stay. “I’ll be good.” He softly promised, thinking it could only help.

“I love you.” He said once more, whispering it like a promise. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning.” He kissed him with the smallest peck.

“Love you, Daddy.” Edwin started to pitter patter away. “Safe drive.” He fumbled out before taking the railing again and helping himself up onto the first step.

“Thanks.” Harry smiled at how precious his son was and contemplated if he could really take any credit for that at all. His wife was the one who spent most of her time with him, she brought him to the day care she worked at everyday. Things had worked well when his wife didn’t have a job, but she had a degree in Education and refused to let it go to waste, so when Edwin turned three, she decided to go to back. Of course, Harry supported his wife and it was time for her to pursue her own dream, but her hours weren’t flexible and neither was his tour. It made it impossible for them to spend any time together, quality or not. Eventually, Harry just stopped calling every night and just did when he felt like it and she wasn’t going to stand idly by and accept that attitude.

As soon as he arrived home, he was completely slapped in the stomach with how much he actually missed her and his family. He liked having his own family and he was proud of what he and his wife had accomplished together, but every success came with a failure. She knew things weren’t working and she needed to figure out what was best. It didn’t really make any sense to Harry, if the problem was that he was away too much, why was she asking him to leave?

This is only temporary. He thought as he picked up the box by his feet and listened as upstairs his wife helped Edwin back into bed and to sleep.

Liam: It used to be the highlight of Liam’s day. He would wait outside his daughter’s school and she would come flying out of the school, nearly jumping over the cement stairs out front completely, and head straight to him where she would throw her arms around his knees and press her face into them. The car ride home was loud with giggling, the radio, and his daughter’s story that seemed to only end when they arrived home or to the playground. When he looked over at Belle, even now with her sweater’s hood over her head like a mask, Liam could still picture that little girl with plastic Cinderella shoes on and a half undone French braid in her hair. He can still remember her asking him everything from if he could teach her how to play piano to why they weren’t allowed to keep raccoons for pets. Had that much time gone by? Was he that old? Regardless of how moody she was, Liam could not fathom how his daughter had come to be 15?

“Do you want to go and get some chips or something?” Liam offered, trying in the only way he knew how to try and make some leeway with his little girl. “I’ve got time.” Even if he didn’t, Liam would always make time for Belle and he wished that she trusted that.

Out of the pocket of her sweater, she pulled out her thin music player and glided her painted red fingers around the dial before popping the ear buds into each one of her ears. Liam had the radio on and even put it on the station that he was confident she liked, but it didn’t matter. It seemed like all the little attempts he made went unnoticed by the teenager.

“Hey,” Carefully, he took one hand off the wheel to reach over and pull the buds from her ears, but Liam kept his eyes focused on the road as he did. “Don’t be rude, not when I’m talking to you.” He was willing to beg for her to be his little girl again, to be good, to give him a chance, but Liam tried to keep calm. He hadn’t pick her up from school in so long and it was so far that he was the given the opportunity. He didn’t want to waste this time arguing. Out of the corner of his eyes, he caught Belle fidgeting with her uniform kilt. A tartan red number and he couldn’t help, but notice how short it was. Surely, that wasn’t the length they were sold or how they were supposed to be worn. He opened his mouth to ask her about it, but thought twice and decided against it. It would only give her more reason to be unhappy with him. Liam figured he would just take it up with her mother, his ex-girlfriend from years ago, later. “How was school?” He tried again, licking his lips and waiting for an answer. It was difficult, but Liam always tried to remain positive. He was optimistic that he would make a breakthrough with Belle eventually. “Learn anything?”

“Not really.” It wasn’t much and she said it in a low mumble, but Liam lit up at the sound of Belle’s answer. He had got a response out of her! He wanted to roll his window down and shout it out, but he knew that wasn’t what a cool dad would do.

“Well, I’m paying them to teach you, so you must be learning something.” He tried to joke. “Your mum said that you are up for a -”

“Why do you even talk to Mom?” Sternly, Belle spat, sounding more American like her mother than British like him in the moment. She always did when she was annoyed or, maybe, it was something she only did when she was around him.

Confused by Belle’s reaction, Liam’s face furrowed down in the middle and he tried to make sense of the ridiculous question that had just been thrown his way. He wondered if, maybe, it was rhetorical. As they pulled up behind a line of stopped cars, Liam took a deep breath and adjusted himself to be looking right at his daughter.

“Because she’s your mother?”

“Yeah, not yours. You don’t have to talk to her. You chose to not be with her in case you’ve forgotten.” Belle said quickly that Liam found it hard to believe she hadn’t been waiting all day to remind him that. It was no secret how much Belle resented her father. Liam knew it plainly and it was something that he felt guilty over every day of his life. Belle had been only six when her parents first broke up, nine when they gave it another go and broke up again. Liam regretted deeply dragging through his kid through the whole mess. While he and his ex stayed in contact and had been on good terms for the last few years, he had somehow still been painted the bad guy in the whole mess. His family assured him that Belle and her mother had had their share of arguments about the whole thing, too, but Liam never saw any signs of that. He always felt like Belle would rather he was out of the picture for good and left her completely in her mum’s care.

“First of all, Belle, it was your mother’s decision to…nevermind.” He didn’t need to explain the story to her. She didn’t need to know all the details of what happened between her parents and Liam was sure that Belle would always find a way to make it his fault, to be disappointed with him. “Belle, what happened between your mother and I happened years ago and we are great friends now, why can’t you and I work on that, huh?” He nudged her, trying to be playful though he was completely serious. “Why can’t you get along with me?” His hands were on the wheel again and he waited for his turn to drive as traffic began to move again.

“Are you going to marry Jenna Cooke?” Belle slid her eyes, the one feature she had that were identical to her father’s, over towards him and studied his reaction long before he began to speak. “People say you are.”

“I’ve always told you not to listen to gossip, Belle. Just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re worth listening to.” It was something Liam had worked hard to drill into his daughter’s mind since the first decade of her life was plagued with rumors and gossip. She was used to it now though and knew it would always follow her around.

“So is that a yes or a no?”

Liam sighed so loudly that he was sure the people in the car next to them heard. He nearly fogged the front window with his frustration. If they weren’t in rush hour, they would never be having this conversation. He wanted to tell her the truth that his current girlfriend, model, Jenna Cooke, was going to move in with him, that they were looking into a home in Los Angeles together where they would have a room for Belle, but Liam also was smart enough to know that wouldn’t go over well at all.

“It’s a no.” He said, figuring it was the truth since he wasn’t thinking about marrying her at the moment. Belle’s smirk at his answer didn’t sit well with him though. “But, we are still together and she really does want to get to know you.”

“I bet.”

“Belle, come on. For me…”

Slowly, Belle slid her hood off of her head and eyed her dad as if he was growing a second head right before her eyes. She stared for a moment, wondering if he could hear the words that came out of his mouth sometimes.

“You’re going to need to come up with a better reason than doing it for you if you really want to persuade me.”

“Are you this difficult for your mother or am I just lucky?” He promised himself he wasn’t going to lose his temper, but nobody could push his buttons like his daughter. Not his band mates, not his exes, not his mother. Only Belle was talented in the ways of driving Liam out of his mind.

Belle rolled her eyes and huffed, turning away from her Dad and reaching for her ear buds again. “Whatever.” She simply muttered, the typical teenage response, and plugged them in her ears. Her Dad could go and marry the kid dressed up as a pizza slice outside of Domino’s for all she cared. As long as she didn’t have to hear about it. She was happy to tune him out with the sounds of her music for the rest of her life.

The car ride felt longer after they stopped talking. Liam never remembered anything feeling so long, not even flights from Los Angeles to Japan. He wished Belle understood that, how hard it was on him for them to be so distant from one another. He knew she was hurting, but he was hurting, too. He pulled up in front of the building she lived with her mother, in the same street parking spot he usually wound up in by fluke. “Do you have your keys?” He knew Belle’s mother would probably be stuck on the tube still. Belle reached into her school backpack on the floor and pulled out a key fob from the front pocket, jingling it in his face for a moment before she threw the passenger side door open. It hurt Liam physically to see how anxious she was to get away from him. “Belle?” He leaned forward, his chest just missing the car horn and hoped to catch her attention. She turned around, brown hair thrown over her shoulders and dropped a single ear bud from her ear while waiting for him to continue. Belle didn’t expect anything from her dad and just stared at him blankly as he wasted her time. “We’ve got to stop this. You can’t go on being mad at me.” He breathed out, his words exhausted by the pain that was wrapped around them. “I don’t know how many times I can apologize to you for things that happened years ago. You know I’m sorry and that has to be enough. You’ve got to try to forgive me.” He tried to plead with her. “I am still your father and no matter where I am, that doesn’t change, I always love you and want to be here.”

Belle bit down on the tip of her tongue, her eyes fighting on whether or not they could really make contact with Liam right now. She thought more about her dad than she would let out, it ate away at her that they didn’t have a good relationship, but it still wasn’t a very simple subject for her to talk about, especially not with him.

“Those are really nice words, but I don’t want to do this right now.” Slowly, she choked out, holding out one palm as if to keep him at arm’s length. “I can’t do this right now.”

“Come back in the car, come sit.” Liam nodded his head to the side, egging her to sit down and talk with him. “Or I can come inside if you’d like…” He always secretly wanted his daughter to invite himself inside into the place she shared with her mum. Liam had been inside many times, but Belle had never asked him to.

“No.” Belle shook her head, looking down and hoping her Dad couldn’t see how upset she was getting with her eyes on the pavement and her brown locks falling over her face like balcony drapes. “Dad, I can’t talk to you. I don’t feel like I know you.” For the last five years, Liam had just been a name to her. He was a ghost, but even his hauntings were infrequent. Belle had shared him with the whole world every day of her life, even her first and second  birthday, people climbed fences and helped themselves to photographs, and now at fifteen, when she was dealing with a hundred other growing pains, she was happy to have space from this stranger that she called ‘Dad’. Liam could try to understand how his notoriety affected his daughter, but he selfishly wanted her to love him like the rest of the world did, but more. He would never let her go. From the second she came into the world, she was his obsession and passion for living. “Just stop forcing yourself into my life. It hurts, looking at you hurts me.” She rolled her lips inward when she finally looked up at him, her eyes sunken in and sad by the truth.

“I can’t do that for you, Belle. I’m never just going to walk away from you. If you want me to move back to London, move into this building, I will.” Liam had been away from his daughter enough to know that it was pure torture. Sure, she wasn’t sunshine to be with, but Liam would choose having her glare at him any day than being away from her. “Whatever it takes, we’re going to get better, baby.” He promised her. He couldn’t leave her life. The idea was ridiculous because it was purely impossible.

“If you say so.” Belle told him, swinging her head around since she really didn’t believe him.

“Look, Belle, I promise you - ”

“I have a lot of homework to do. I’m up for this scholarship, science stuff, so I got to go inside.” It wasn’t a lie. She did have an especially large amount of homework at the moment and she was naturally very good at science despite her indifference towards the subject. Mostly though, Belle was just aching to get away from Liam. It felt the same way it did when a drunken stranger approached her on the street and asked for directions, her body just filled with tension and a desire to run away.

“Okay. Good luck. Call me if you need any help.” Liam offered, desperate for any in with her. He watched her walk towards her building after the car door closed, fiddling her key fob around in her left hand. Liam couldn’t help himself though. He pulled out his cell phone from his pocket and texted his daughter before she even reached the front door of her building. ‘Dinner tomorrow?’. He would ask her that every day if he had to and fly her to wherever he was in the world. Liam was determined to make things better with her. No matter how long it took.

Louis:  She was twelve years old now. Louis could hardly believe it. When he looked at his youngest kid, he still saw a little toddler who begged him to watch Dumbo over and over again. Sometimes, Louis could only think of Stella as the newborn baby that smelled as soft as she felt. He had been so happy with his life, but then Stella came in and realized just how truly unfulfilled his life was. Had Louis been a great father? He sincerely doubted it. While he made sure to see his daughter weekly, regardless of his schedule, he carried guilt around with him for having to live away from his little girl. He would always be travelling, it came with the turf, but Louis felt like he had failed Stella by not making things work with his ex-wife, her mother. They barely spoke now, but when they did it was only about Stella. However, there was a time when the three of them had made quite a happy little family. He wondered if Stella could remember that, he hoped she could at least. Louis had stressed to Stella in the past, a year or so again when the divorce was finalized, that he tried absolutely everything to make it work. He wanted it to work and considering that he and Stella were on pretty good terms as far as a twelve year old daughter and her Dad went, Louis felt confident she believed him.

It wasn’t always just the three of them. Stella had been a big sister for nearly three months and Louis had been the father of a son for a little while. Nobody ever brought it up, the name ‘Jack’ never uttered, not by one Louis’s band mates, not by fans, journalists, even paparazzi didn’t dare say his name around Louis - not after he passed away from SIDS. After a year or so, when Stella was just starting primary school, Louis and his then wife tried again, but she suffered a miscarriage and shut down even more so. For most of Stella’s twelve years of living, Louis felt something like a single dad and he wasn’t even her primary caregiver. His wife had been changed by the death of their son, understandably so as Louis had as well, but the miscarriage was too much. Their marriage couldn’t get through that challenge. Louis went through four years more, just pretending, but they were both so relieved when the marriage was over. It had been raining hard outside when Louis walked into his lawyer’s office to sign the papers with her and almost as soon as he left, a divorced man, the sun started to shine over him. A shadow literally lifted.

The sun had been shining then a lot like it was today, but strangely enough; Louis couldn’t seem to corral his daughter off the tour bus. It was their last day together and he was hoping she would want to enjoy the day to its fullest. He had offered up a pancake breakfast, but she politely declined and happily ate Corn Pops in bed instead. He tried tempting her with the beach or horseback riding, but she remained uninterested. Louis had even told her that they could have a water balloon fight, which he would get the whole crew involved, but the twelve year old just chuckled and said that she was fine.

“Stella…” Louis started to walk into the back room, the place that was always for the kids when Stella or any of the band’s children came to visit. He was going to just walk right in, but Louis had to remind himself that his little girl was growing up. She was a budding lady now. He knocked his knuckles lightly against the door to capture her attention. “Are you decent?” He checked, waiting for her to call back with a loud ‘yes’ before he slid the door open and came inside.

Stella was still in her oversized pajama shirt and small striped blue shorts, underneath the covers, hair in a very mess sock bun on top of her head. It wasn’t like her to be lazy. Louis chalked it up to part of her age, but he was used to her being very active. She had indulged in football, dance, and horseback riding throughout the last ten or so years.

“Are you feeling okay?” Very concerned, Louis asked before helping himself to a corner of the bed to sit on. He spotted the doll he had given to her when she came at the beginning of her three week stay by her suitcase on the ground (still unpacked). He knew she was probably too old for dolls now, but appreciated that she accepted it graciously and didn’t make a fuss. Stella seemed to know that her Dad couldn’t take the reality check. He needed to believe she was still his little baby.

“Yeah, I’m fine…?” She looked up at her Dad like he was crazy before breaking out in a smile. Stella reached for the remote between her feet and put the television hung on the wall on mute. She wasn’t really all that invested in her movie anyway. Zayn had recommended it to her because he knew she liked movies with subtitles, but this one was a little too old for her.

“Okay.” Louis accepted her answer. She didn’t look pale. She was still smiling and breathing. “You just don’t usually spend the day in bed. It’s half two.”

Suddenly, Stella looked very ashamed as if she was about to confess to committing a crime after being guilted.

“What’s going on?” Sounding even more concerned, Louis pressed on. He leaned in closer to her, but still tried his best not to be smothering. He had read on an online parenting blog that teenagers needed space. “You can tell me anything, you know.”

Rolling her lips together, Stella sucked inwardly and tried to think of the right way to tell her Dad what was on her mind and how she was feeling. She itched nervously at her neck and let her eyes roam around the room. While Stella felt lucky to have a close relationship with her Dad, she had never been one for heart to hearts. Stella just pretty blessed. Yes, her parents had split up, but she still had more pros in her life than cons and even at the ripe age of twelve, she knew that. She had never really had a big issue that bothered her this much before. While Stella was figuring out how to form her words properly, Louis was internally freaking out. Maybe, she was in trouble. Could she be pregnant? He assumed it was possible and his heart nearly exploded inside his chest. Maybe, she was smoking pot. Some of their crew on tour did and, maybe, she was pressured. Louis was close to having a full on meltdown. Stella couldn’t have chosen a better time to start talking.

“I don’t want to go home, Dad. I want to stay on tour with you.” She finally confessed, her words releasing a huge weight off of her shoulders.

Internally, Louis breathed a sigh of relief. It could have been so much worse. However, he was still slightly concerned as to why his daughter looked and sounded so desperate to stay with him. He thought by now the tour bus and stinky men-filled tour bus would have her itching to go back home to be with her mother and the comfort of her own bed.

“I wish you could, too, Stell.” He smiled fondly at her, reaching over to squeeze her foot of the covers. “I’m going to visit in two weeks. You won’t even have time to miss me.” Louis was trying to lighten the mood, but Stella only looked at him as if he was insane.

“Why can’t I stay, Dad? I could do home school.”

Louis’s eyes dilated to the size of teacup saucers. He hadn’t a clue his daughter wanted to live with him for good. While he was flattered and so happy his daughter felt close to him, he wondered what prompted her desire.

“Where’s this coming from, Stella?” He climbed further onto the bed, moving to be closer to her as she grew agitated. He could see it in her eyes and how she was fidgeting with her blanket covers. “Is something going on? Did you and your mum get into a fight?” All he could do was guess. She hadn’t really been anxious to call her mother like she usually was when she visited her Dad. It seemed as soon as Louis mentioned her mother, Stella’s bottom lip began to warble slightly and she looked away in hopes he wouldn’t spot how sad she was becoming.

“She’s, like, she’s seeing this guy and I don’t like him and I miss you all the time…and I don’t understand why I have to live there and I can’t be with you.” Like water rushing over Horseshoe Falls, it all came pouring out of the new teenager all at once.  “I want to be with you!” Her voice nearly cracked and she stared at her Dad with wide eyes that were filling with water. She might have been growing up, but in this moment, Louis felt like he was face to face with his little girl. She needed him, he was there for her, but he couldn’t give her what she wanted. He wrapped his arm over her shoulder and pulled her closer to him, shushing her as he kissed the top of her head and let her rest on his chest.

“Darling, I would love you to stay here, but you have to go home.” He tried to be as gentle as possible with her. It had been so long since he had seen Stella upset. Even when she was injured in a football match, she pulled herself up and kept going - not even bothering to wipe the dirt off of her knees or anything. It broke his heart to see her this way, though he was happy to be there for her. He wished that Stella could stay with him, but at twelve, Louis felt she needed her mother in her life. He would see her constantly once the tour wrapped, but for now, she needed the stability of a parent always in the same place, a bedroom, a physical school, and a good group of friends. Louis could provide her with plenty of things, but stability wasn’t one of them at the moment. The agreement between Louis and his ex was that they could have joint custody, but that she would live under the care of her mother. Louis had all the access he could want to her, but his ex remained the primary caregiver. He thought it had been working out. He thought this was what was best for Stella.

“But, I don’t want to go home!” She pulled away from him, her face pulling itself in two different directions in agony. “You’re my Dad!” Stella shouted as if he didn’t know that, surely gaining the attention of anyone else on the bus. Louis was already planning to talk about this outburst with his best mate and Stella’s godfather, Harry. “Why can’t I stay with you?!” She just didn’t understand.

“Stella, it’s just the way things are. You belong with your mother.” He tried to explain, looking to pull her close to him again but she was already off the bed. Stella rubbed at her red eyes with both her palms and took a deep breath. She wasn’t used to feeling so emotional and she hated it.

“How can you know that? You’re not me and you’re not there all the time!” Stella fought. “I’m happy with you. We have fun together, Dad. I don’t get why it can’t be like this always. Why can’t Mom be the one I visit?” Her hands wound up on either side of her head somehow as she paced back and forth a few steps.

Louis was growing frustrated with the situation. He felt like his back was up against the wall. He had to honor the deal he had, in paper and by word of mouth, with his ex-wife regarding their daughter but he had a commitment to his kid to make sure she was happy. Right now, Stella was anything, but happy. In fact, Louis couldn’t remember the last thing she had behaved this way. Maybe, when she was four and he put her on a time out for throwing a temper tantrum in the middle of the Four Seasons lobby in New York.

“It’s just the way things are.”

“That’s not good enough!” She said, stomping her foot and then being incredibly embarrassed about it. Stella calmed herself down for a moment and stared at her feet. Her father just watched her, feeling like a complete disappointment. “I just want to stay with you.” She told him again, whispering it to her toes.

“Oh, honey.” Louis breathed out and maneuvered himself to the edge of the bed, facing her and reaching for her little hands, one to hold in each of his. Even though they weren’t as small as they had been years ago, they still seemed to fit in his like a custom fit. “I want that, too, but a tour is no place for a little girl. I don’t want this for you. I want you to go to school with your friends and use that big brain of yours.” He reached up and tapped it with one of his fingers and smiled, especially happy at her small giggle as a reaction. “If I could have things my way, I’d never be away from you. Not for a night. You would be in my care all the time.” While Stella was seemingly calmer, Louis felt terrible for not being able to give his daughter what she wanted and what she really was entitled, too. “Tour is over in just a few short months,” Of course, when he was over in Asia and Latin America for most of that time, it would be difficult. “And then we can talk about having you stay at my place, alright?”

Stella nodded, wishing she didn’t have to wait but she was used to it. She was used to him not being around and having to share him and her time. It wasn’t fair, but it was better than nothing and she would make do for now.

Niall:  He couldn’t understand this. Daughters were supposed to be moody, confusing, and all around challening, not sons. Niall just couldn’t wrap his mind around why his eldest, Dylan, was being a right brat about the divorce while his daughter, Jane, just a ripe ten year old now was being reasonable and understanding. She seemed to be able to see that this was what her parents needed and she never made a fuss about going back and forth between Niall and her mother. Dylan had been treating Niall like a pariah since the whole thing was finalized. In fact, it had been almost four months since Niall’s marriage ended and this was the first time the two blond Irish guys had been alone for more than four minutes when Jane excused herself to the washroom. Even then, Dylan rarely showed up to have dinner with his Dad. He never came over to Niall’s new penthouse flat, he didn’t invite Niall to his football games and if Niall showed up, he didn’t so much as nod to acknowledge him. It was cold between the two Horans and if anyone walked into the apartment now, they would think Niall didn’t have a furnace. The air was thick and chilly.

“Hey, I called you, like, 20 minutes ago.” Niall pushed open the door and found his son happily ignoring him while lying on the hardwood floor, back against the bed, and flipping through a Rolling Stone magazine. Just like his father, Dylan wanted to be a rock star. He had since his parents bought him a blow up balloon from a carnival when he was eye high to a grasshopper. “The pizza got here 20 minutes ago.”

Dylan could not have been less thrilled about the situation. He tried to find a friend’s house to stay at, but everybody was busy or going out of town with it being the long weekend. He even asked his grandmum if he could come over, but she knew all about what was going on between her son and grandson and wasn’t going to steal a chance for Niall to have some quality bonding time with his eldest. It was all Jane’s fault, really. Why did she have to have a slumber party with ten girls at home? Why couldn’t she just go to the movies or horseback riding for a day like normal girls? Dylan felt like it was ridiculous for him to be forced to spend the night at his Dad’s, while everyone else thought it was ridiculous for him to be so against it.

“I heard you.” Dylan shrugged his shoulders, moving one page over and continuing on what he was doing as if his dad wasn’t there.

“Well…come on then.” Niall said, not knowing what else he could do. He really didn’t want to fight with his boy. Dylan had inherited his hot temperament from him (and his Irish genes) while he seemed to have learned his mother’s methods of perfecting the dead stare and silent treatment.

“I can’t have pizza.” Dylan finally looked up and asked his Dad, his raised his eyes presenting some kind of challenge to him.

“Since when?” Niall was positive that his son liked pizza. He had memories of them chowing down, watching football matches, and just being men together. “We always ordered pizza on  your birthdays.” He was absolutely sure of it.

“Nope.” Dylan shook his mop of hair at his Dad, rolling his eyes as he counted this as a win for himself. “I’m lactose intolerant.” And not mildly, Dylan was the type to have the worst stomach ache for days after a cup of yogurt. “Jane is the pizza party one. We had hamburgers at mine.” Of course, Niall would forget. He was the back-up parent, the one who was around for the laughs or the discipline. It was their mother who did the real raising and memory making. He felt rather embarassed about confusing the whole thing and forgetting about his son’s allergy, but it was really just a mistake. “Oh, well, you can scrape off the cheese.” Dough, sauce, and meat sounded perfectly delicious to Niall. “Or I’ve got plenty of food in the fridge. Want a hot dog?”

In protest, Dylan rolled his eyes again. “You’re an idiot.”

Niall had been trying to take it easy with his son, but at the sound of Dylan’s last comment, his demeanor changed completely. He might have been the second string parent, but he would not be spoken to in that manner by anyone, especially his own child. He stood up straight, shoulders back, and narrowed his usually animated eyes on his kid. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that again.” He warned, stepping deeper into the room and keeping contact with Dylan (who looked somewhat unaffected) “You might not want to be here tonight, but in my house, you show me respect.” He tried to lay down the law. There would be Hell for Dylan Horan to pay if he didn’t abide by his rules. “Are we clear?”

“Yeah.” Dylan muttered, back focusing on his magazine again. It never took his Dad longer than a few minutes to get on his nerves.

Niall composed himself, inhaling so deeply his stomach caved in and even closing his eyes until it was pushed out evenly again, “Well, come on.” Prepared to forget what just transpired and have a good night with his son, Niall started walking to the door, expecting Dylan to follow right behind him.

“I’m not hungry.” He informed his Dad once he reached the door, not looking up from the magazine’s pages. It wasn’t even a riveting story.

“What was the last thing you ate today?” Sighing, Niall was beginning to feel the defeat enter his body. He felt shorter already.

“I don’t know.”

“Just come have dinner. You got to eat.” It was like when Dylan was a little kid and refused to open his mouth when Niall would try to feed him. It didn’t matter how many times he pretended the spoon was an airplane. The kid was just impossible sometimes.

“I’ll eat when I’m hungry.” Dylan protested.

“Just come hang out with me. We never get to hang out like this.” Maybe, it was silly of him but Niall was optimistic that his son kind of craved a better relationship with him and would jump at the chance to chill with him one on one.

“Dad.” Dylan groaned. His hands left the sides of his magazine as he slowly opened his eyes up and over at his very persistent and equally irritating Dad. “Let’s just get this night over with. Don’t force yourself on me. It’s…” He searched for the right word. Fucked up? Nah, his Dad would be offended. Pathetic? Also offensive. “Weird.” Dylan settled on that.

“Weird?” Niall questioned, not sure what to make of the statement his son just put together. “Look, I know you’re not happy about your mother and I getting divorced. You’re entitled to that. I hate putting you and your sister in this position -” He tried to explain himself.

“But you did.” And again, the magazine had all of Dylan’s focus.

“We did. Your mum and I did. This is what is best for everybody though.”

All Dylan could do was roll his eyes. Was his Dad that much of a moron?

“You might not think so, but you’ll understand when you’re a grown up.”

Dylan tried to stay quiet, tried to pretend his Dad wasn’t there, but just knowing that he was breathing in the same room as him was making the teenager’s blood boil to a volcanic temperature.

“Can you leave me alone? I said I’m not hungry.” Dylan blurted out rudely, looking up at his Dad with pure disdain in his eyes. He was too mad at him to pretend otherwise.

“This is my flat, Dylan.” Niall pointed out the obvious, using it to his advantage. He could be in any room he wanted and he wanted to be with his son. His eldest. His little shit.

“Just fuck off.” He muttered, sitting up and jumping off the bed. It took his father only a few milliseconds to start freaking out after he had sworn him off, but Dylan took to throwing his  backpack over one shoulder and curling up the Rolling Stone mag in the other hand and start to leave the room, past his blond father, and down the hall to the door.

“If you walk out that door, Dylan Horan, you’re not coming back.” Niall was pretty sure he meant it. Of course, his son was always allowed in his life. There was forever an open door for him, but he had become such a terror since Niall moved out and he was at the end of his rope.

“Great.” Dylan said through tightly clenched teeth, stuffing his huge feet into his sneakers.

“Dylan!” Niall shouted, his hands curling into fists as he grew closer to his boy. “Just sit down, so we can deal with this. Yell at me, get whatever it is your mad about out, okay?” Niall offered and, for a second, he thought it worked. Dylan stopped in his tracks and faced his dad dead on. He puffed out his chest, his nostrils flared, but just like that, he drew away again and just walked out the door. Leaving his Dad alone with his dark thoughts, failings, and pizza.

Zayn: The park was not an ideal meeting place for Zayn. He thought it was most stupid that he couldn’t just pick his daughter up at her house. It was still his house technically. Even if they decided to get divorced, which he knew they would, it would still be in Zayn’s house. Even though she was already with someone else and he was on Zayn’s side of the bed, it was still his house and his bed. Vera would always be his daughter and he was pretty sure that meant he could pick her up wherever he wanted and whenever he wanted. However, he decided to just go with the flow and make things as easy as possible. His wife claimed this would be easiest on Vera, help her get used to the fact that her Dad was not living with them anymore, that she would have two homes from now on. If it helped Vera, Zayn would oblige. So on the second Friday of the month, just like they had decided, Zayn showed up to the small playground in their gated community and slid out of his car slowly. He held the keys in his hand, feeling their cold edges to keep him grounded and calm. This wasn’t exactly a position he had hoped for. A pending divorce, a deceitful wife, and his precious angel caught in the middle. Zayn and his wife had been fighting like animals in the wild, but he tried to never let Vera catch on. She was petty and used their three and a half year old as often as possible, a weapon in their childish games, but Zayn was trying his damnedest to keep his promise to Vera, the one he made only a night after she was born, that he would always act on her best interests and make her proud.

Zayn walked from the pavement and onto the dead grass, spotting Vera right away. She was walking with her knees bent over the little wooden bridge that connected the two structures, one old and the other new. She was a slow mover, but it was due to her boundless curiousity. She had to take her time and look at every little crack and divet in the wood, the ladybugs on the chains, and dirt on her light up Elmo sneakers. Other kids flew by her and over to other areas, but Vera could spend five minutes looking over the same thing, noticing the details with sincere fascination. It was Zayn’s favorite thing about his kid, well one of the many. He was smiling as large as he had in a long time, watching her from a distance, but it went away instantly as he figured out who she was standing up to wave to. He followed her happy big brown eyes and he landed right on Sterling Kennedy, his wife’s boyfriend of two weeks. The guy had already been photographed outside Zayn’s house in Zayn’s striped pajama bottoms, picking up Vera from school, and now he was hanging out with his daughter at the park. He had some nerve. Zayn tried killing him with an angry glare, focusing narrowly on the back of his head but it was worthless. He couldn’t figure out where his wife was. As far as he knew, she was never far from her new guy’s side but he couldn’t spot her anywhere. If she had arranged for Sterling to drop off Vera to him, she was in for one Hell of an angry voice mail. Zayn calmed himself down, rubbing the edges of his keys until the pads of his fingers hurt and walked right by Sterling and to his little girl on the bridge. “Hey pumpkin.” He grinned up at her, resting his chin on a wooden beam.

“Hi.” Bashfully, almost whispering, Vera spoke back. She didn’t look up, her thin brown hair hanging in her face, as her little fingers traced at lines in the wooden panel underneath her tiny feet.

“I’ve missed you.” Zayn reached over the beam and tugged lightly at the bottom of her purple tunic. He had never seen it before, but she was so badly spoiled by both his and his wife’s family that it wouldn’t surprise him in the least if it was new. “Have you missed me?” Zayn was hopeful that she would answer with a loud ‘yes’ and he wanted Sterling to hear it, but all Vera did in response was nod discreetly. It was so discreet that he couldn’t even be sure it was a nod. What had happened to his excitable little bug? She was always jumping at him to pick her up, yelling instead of talking, and full of exuberance. Was she affected by the divorce? Had her mother told her something that no little kid should be exposed to? “Ready to go?” He put the keys in his pocket and held out both his hands to help her down. If she wanted to stay and play, he would happily do so. He wouldn’t mind going up and down the slide with Vera all night if she wanted. His time with her had been so limited due to his hectic career, but now with the divorce, he was really savoring all his moments with her. All his accomplishments in music and entertainment could go away tomorrow and he wouldn’t care, as long as he was able to be a great dad to Vera.

Finally, Vera threw her head up and made bold and straight eye contact with her Dad. She moved her head so fast that she felt on her Pull-Ups covered butt, causing Zayn to crack an endeared smile.

“We’re going for ice creams.” She told him, sticking her hand in her mouth.

Zayn reached over the beam again and gently pulled her hand from her lips as it was probably covered in germs from the park. Who knew what she was touching before she was grabbing at the structure?

“We can get ice cream after dinner.” Nonchalantly, he told her. He had a kid-friendly and healthy dinner in mind back at his place.

“No.” Vera shook her head. “Sterling.”

That was all Zayn needed to hear. He rolled his eyes and felt his head shake. He was too enraged to really pay attention to what he was doing. Without another word, he slid his arms underneath both of Vera’s little ones and lifted her off of the bridge and started to carry her away. The sound of his name coming out of her tiny mouth could have killed him. That much he knew. He only made it two steps from the structure before his daughter, the tiniest thing and light as a feather, started to scream bloody murder. Zayn had never experienced her like this before. She was capturing the attention of all the adults at the park. It was the last thing he needed or expected. Usually, Vera was so well behaved and sweet. What was the matter with her today?

“Vera, please.” He whispered, hoping she would hear him over her own pandemonium. As he moved off of the rocks and onto the grass again, the unfortunately familiar figure of Sterling, all muscles and no neck stepped in front of him, stopping Zayn dead in his tracks. It wasn’t until Sterling’s fingers touched at Vera’s back that she stopped screaming, but Zayn jolted away. “Don’t touch my kid.” Forgetting all about his desire to always make sure he kept Vera out of the divorce, Zayn spat his words like fire at the other guy.

“Look, she clearly isn’t up for going with you for the weekend.”

“She’s upset. She’s probably tired from daycare.” Zayn scoffed. Every second he stood near Sterling was a second more he added to the pending beating he was going to give to him.

“She didn’t go to daycare today. We had a beach day.” Sterling chuckled, stroking Vera’s cheek and evoking a little giggle from her, too. Usually, it was Zayn’s most favorite sound, but right now it sounded like nails on a chalkboard. He was infuriated.

“I said don’t touch her and, you know, that should really be discussed with me. Now, excuse me.” He stepped aside and started to walk right by Sterling only to hear his daughter begin to wail, hot tears coming down her eyes. Zayn was determined though. He figured once they were in his car and she was strapped into her car seat, he would be able to calm her down. He had only ever seen her this upset after a nightmare and even when he was away, Zayn was always good at helping her to feel better. However, when Zayn felt his daughter’s tiny trainer clad feet start jabbing into his ribs, he had to put her down. He knelt onto his knees and grabbed her wrists to hold her in place. “Hey, we don’t kick.” He warned, sounding stern like his father would when he was Vera’s age and acting how she was. “Apologize to me, please, Vera.”

“No!” She yelled and stomped her foot into the ground.

“Vera.”

“I want Mom!” She fought with him, trying to squirm out of his gentle grip.

“Vera, come on.” Zayn’s voice softened as did his eyes. He didn’t care so much about his apology now, though he hadn’t forgotten, he just wanted her little arms around him and he wanted to hear her call him ‘Daddy’. He had been so looking forward to having her around for the weekend and now he could see that reality drifting away. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could see Sterling watching them and he felt like he was the newcomer, like he was being judged, and replaced. “Do you want to stay at the park longer? We can do whatever you want.” Usually, Zayn wouldn’t be so relaxed and willing, but he felt like, maybe, Vera needed a little bit of slack. It was hard having your parents split up and she was too young to really understand why her world was completely changing.

“No.” She shook her head and took his hands removing themselves from her wrists as an invitation to escape. “I want Sterling.” She could barely say his name properly, but it still killed Zayn to hear. His heart dropped, but that didn’t stop Vera from running as fast as she could (which was remarkably slow) over to her mother’s new boyfriend and jumping into his arms to cling to his side as she always had Zayn. He had to look away. He stood back up on his feet and reached into his pocket, holding onto the keys, while he pondered what to do. He could stay and fight for his weekend with his daughter or he could leave her with what she wanted.

4

so yes…i did it…finally…heh

PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE CONTINUING

this is most definitely a filler chapter. sorry, it was necessary. but the next chapter is going to be exciting, i promise <3

Heads or Tails - OOC high school gruvia - Part 1Part 2      Part 2.5       Part 3   Part 4  Part 5 Part 6  Part 7 Part 8

fanfiction link —> here

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“Welcome to the jungle, we’ve got fun and-“

“Wow, dad. Literally, not even five minutes ago. We established no singing.” I said, outrightly pointing to the post-it note pasted on top of the radio dial.

“Come on Juvia, don’t you wanna jam with your old man?” He asked jokingly, hitting the horn to the beat of the song.

“Dad, that’s an excellent way to get shot.” I informed, watching the other drivers get mildly aggravated by my dad’s horn abuse.

“Aw, you’re not gettin’ it. You see, I’m just trying to get it on like all the young kids nowadays-“

“Jesus Christ, dad, I thought I could get at least another good year out of you before you turned into one of those dads.” I snarled, turning up the radio to tune out his tone-deaf antics.

“Well if you’re going to be rude about it, I guess I have no choice but to turn to Rush.” My dad threatened, cranking the radio up to an ungodly number and probably deafening several forest animals in the process.

Rush was my dad’s signature old man band, he pretty much bought all their merch, watched all their movies, rage listened to every CD, he’d even seen them in concerts a few times.

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Parenthood

[Part 1: “Family”]

content: Dean freaks out because his little daughter wants to know where babies come from. But little does he know why she asked in the first place …
word count: 2117


“We have a serious emergency!”

“Dean …?”

“C'mon, Cas!”

Dean grabs Castiel’s hand when the former angel just walks through the door and pulls him into a spare room before he even gets a chance to say a word.

“Dean, what is it?” His husband seems highly alarmed now, looking around as if he expects a supernatural monster to pop out of nowhere right next to the closet or the nightstand.

“No demons or shit like that,” Dean hastily assures. “It’s worse!”

Castiel’s eyes widen. “Worse? Leviathans?”

What? No, Cas, no one’s gonna die, okay? Jeez!”

Castiel folds his arms, his face serious. “What did you expect? You look agitated and told me about an emergency worse than demons! That sounds life threatening to me!” He sighs exasperated. “So, what is worse than demons or Leviathans?”

“Our daughter …,” Dean begins and Castiel starts to stiffen at the mention of Hope. “She … she wants to know where babies come from.”

Castiel blinks, a strange expression on his face.

Frowns.

And obviously waits for Dean to continue.

But when his husband stays quiet he finally asks, “That’s your emergency?”

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Taylor Swift's Debut Album Turns 10: A Track-by-Track Retrospective of 'Taylor Swift'

Taylor Swift has always been Taylor Swift. She came upon the music world 10 years ago today (Oct. 24) with her debut album – Taylor Swift – with a fully formed idea of herself as an artist, despite being a mere 16 years old.

With her debut, she proved the power of country music – specifically, its confessional storytelling – to reach teen girl audiences on a massive scale. As a result of its success, she helped make country cool again and gave young women a voice in music. She subsequently brought country storytelling to her pop crossover, used her market leverage to stand up to streaming services, and parlayed gossip-magazine interest in her love life into hit songs that may have been about certain other famous people.

She is, in fact, so ubiquitous in pop culture now that it’s hard to remember a Swift-free landscape just a decade ago. When Big Machine Records released Taylor Swift, full of suburban-teen longing and angst, the boys Swift was singing about were unknown fellow high schoolers (or figments of her adolescent fantasies). Those feelings, packaged up with twangy melodies and classically structured songwriting, spawned five consecutive chart hits, including “Tim McGraw” and “Teardrops on My Guitar,” and scored Swift a Best New Artist Grammy nomination.

Aside from its strong commercial performance, Taylor Swift served as an honest introduction to what we’d get from Swift for the next 10 years. If you don’t like her now, well, it’s not like she hasn’t been telling us precisely who she is since the beginning. From the very first single, “Tim McGraw,” which is also the album’s opening track, Taylor Swift shows Swift’s obsession with the impermanence of relationships – an astounding number of her songs foresee the end of a relationship, a future without it, often when it’s just beginning. But tracks like “Picture to Burn” also betray a bitter streak when she’s scorned. She’s a Romeo-and-Juliet romantic who’ll push you off the balcony if you betray her.

It’s a character she’d hone on the follow-up, Fearless, through Speak Now, the poppier Red, and the very pop 1989. As her love interests became more famous, she switched the name-dropping from fan-girling over Tim McGraw to subtly hinting that lyrics might refer to Jonas Brother here or a One Directioner there. She became, essentially, the perfect pop star of our time, a mastermind of tabloid publicity with the country-honed storytelling chops to feed the narrative through song.

And it all began with Taylor Swift being Taylor Swift on Taylor Swift.

1. “Tim McGraw”

Swift wrote the song in math class during her freshman year of high school, humming the melody to herself while thinking about her boyfriend at the time. She knew they were going to break up when he went off to college in the fall; they shared a love of McGraw. And thus she came up with the marketing gimmick that likely helped the song break through – the unknown newcomer name-dropping a successful artist in her genre. It was presumably unwitting, though given Swift’s savvy since then, you never know; from a 2016 perspective, this technique looks like a precursor to her now-legendary ability to spin tabloid romances into coy hit songs. As a single, it hit the Billboard 100, peaking at No. 40, and established Swift as a singer-songwriter to be reckoned with. The video demonstrated that she was young and pretty and relatable, showing her in lush, romantic scenes straight out of a swoony teen romance. These were tropes that would serve her dear-diary approach in the future.

2. “Picture to Burn”

Welcome to another of Swift’s defining song types: the woman-scorned track. She’d later perfect this art form with the chanting and drumbeats of “Bad Blood,” but the country-radio translation here includes some electric guitar, banjo, and a “stupid old pick-up truck you never let me drive” (not to mention a bit of excessive twang in Swift’s vocal delivery). Oh, and here’s a lyrical nugget she’d also return to many times to come: “Go ahead and tell your friends I’m obsessive and crazy.” The blessing of Swift as a lyricist is that she admits she’s a bit intense in relationships – it’s this emotional vulnerability and self-awareness that make her a great lyricist, even if she sometimes denies these qualities in interviews.

3. “Teardrops on My Guitar”

This track’s chorus serves as nothing less than a thesis statement for Swift’s songwriting: “He’s the reason for the teardrops on my guitar.” So specific that the object of her affection has a name – Drew – and yet so universal: the boy you love loves someone else. So perfectly tuned to teen longing. No wonder it was the best-performing single from the album, peaking at No. 13 on the Hot 100. The guitar of the title also has the nice, subtle effect of underscoring Swift’s identity as a songwriter – she's not just a teen star singing adults’ lyrics.

4. "A Place in This World"

“I’m just a girl … tryin’ to find a place in this world.” This is the last time Swift could believably sing such a regular-kid statement, and surely her fans ate up every word. I’m here from the future to tell you, Taylor, that you will do okay.

5. “Cold As You”

Not a total dud, but hardly a standout. On the emotion spectrum, it hits a mushy spot between the wistfulness of “Teardrops on My Guitar” and the anger of “Picture to Burn,” without an interesting unifying concept like “Tim McGraw.” With lines like, “you do what you want ‘cause I’m not what you wanted,” she’s working out wordplay skills that will later serve her better on songs such as “Mine” and “Red.” But at this ballad tempo, we need something more to grab onto than, “I’ve never been anywhere cold as you.”

6. “The Outside”

This creeps awfully close to pop, aside from the occasional sound of a steel guitar, and it introduces another of Swift’s favorite themes: being an outsider. In this song, she’s literally on the outside looking in at a group of kids, feeling excluded. It’s an idea she’d return to later with lyrics like, “She’s cheer captain and I’m on the bleachers” in “You Belong With Me.” And though she certainly looks more like the cheerleader type, she has said she wrote “The Outside” when she was just 12, feeling shunned for being different – taller than other girls, and more apt to spend a weekend singing at a festival than attending a sleepover.

7. “Tied Together With a Smile”

She opens with a line that feels like it addresses the listener directly: “Seems the only one who doesn’t see your beauty is the face in the mirror looking back at you.” It’s a trick – a good-natured one – that makes a certain kind of pop song extra-appealing, whether it’s Christina Aguilera’s “Beautiful” or One Direction’s “What Makes You Beautiful.” You find yourself singing it to yourself later because the lyrics make you feel great. No one needs this message more than the teen girls who made up Swift’s original fan base: You’re more beautiful and wonderful than you realize.

8. “Stay Beautiful”

Forget Drew from five tracks ago. “Cory’s eyes are like a jungle/He smiles, it’s like the radio.” The similes might be a little messy, but we get it. This paean to a cute boy has the added punch of Swift’s trademark way of always looking at her present life from the sage vantage point of the future: “And when you find everything you’ve looked for/I hope your love leads you back to my door/Oh, but if it don’t, stay beautiful.” This ditty’s light-hearted approach tells us that Future Taylor knows she’ll be just fine without her Cory, and we’ll be just fine without our Corys, too.

9. “Should’ve Said No”

The opening steel guitar riff is basically a sped-up version of the “Tim McGraw” opening, and the lyrics make this song your basic why-did-you-cheat-on-me jam – a less-interesting kiss-off song than “Picture to Burn.” That said, listeners love a good kiss-off song, and this relatively ho-hum track still charted, peaking at No. 33 on the Hot 100 as the album’s final single.

10. “Mary’s Song (Oh My My My)”

Swift’s evocative storytelling gift is back in full force on this one, about a couple who originally meet as family friends at ages 7 and 9 and grow up to fall in love, much to their parents’ delight. The details make the song – turning up creek beds and riding in trucks at 2 a.m. – but you’re right there with her if you’ve ever been in a similar situation. (Mine was named David.) Spoiler alert: This isn’t the last time a guy is going to get down on one knee in the last verse of a Taylor Swift song.

11. “Our Song”

The concluding track pulls out all the tricks. Mellifluous lyrics begging to be sung with a twang: “I was riding shotgun with my hair undone in the front seat of his car.” And then, immediately, the sweetest imagery ever: “He’s got a one-hand feel on the steering wheel, the other on my heart.” The central conceit has Swift lamenting to a beau that they don’t have a song. His answer is beyond romantic: Their song is the sound of him tapping on her window when they’re sneaking out, of her voice on the phone, of him wishing he’d kissed her on their first date, “And when I got home, before I said Amen, asking God if he could play it again.” Then, just when you think it couldn’t get cuter, she adds the meta coda you’ve been waiting for: “I grabbed a pen and an old napkin and I wrote down our song.” It’s the perfect ending to this debut effort – and a hint that there would be plenty of similar songwriting in her future.