who is responsible for this i must know

Negative Expressions of the Signs
  • ♈ Aries: Aggressive, forceful, inconsiderate. Immature, offensive and spontaneous tantrums with no apology. Egocentric, boastful and feels entitled. The ram has an ill temper and a hard head; they believe their way is The Way.
  • ♉ Taurus: An affair with greed and sloth. Roots embedded and wrapped around the brain, suggesting unchangeable ways. Clingy of things and people, and little patience when bothered. Too proud to admit faults. The bull has their hooves dug underneath the ground, becoming immovable and unyielding for willful reasons.
  • ♊ Gemini: Contradictory, superficial, and an erratic chatterbox. The nerves are easily irritated, causing a sharp and offensive tongue and volatile emotions. Flightiness; The butterfly that flits from one thing to the next seeks connection coldly from the mind, but not warmly from the heart.
  • ♋ Cancer: Needy, teary, moody and repetitive of unhealthy habits. Cautiousness and hidden paranoia; the crab is scared and selfish, only thinking of their own safety. Conflicting emotions. "I'm so lonely" cries the crab, yet is the one who withdraws into their shell and into the internal womb, never to be seen again.
  • ♌ Leo: Emotional flares, spoiled tantrums, and dramatization of trivial events to play the role of the martyred victim. The ego is self-centered; they must be the king of their domain, to have everything their way. "Hear me roar I am king" says the mere cub, attempting to be a lion.
  • ♍ Virgo: Magnification of the faults of others, yet doesn't see that their judgment, fault-finding and criticism towards others is merely a reflection of the flaws they see in themselves. Shrewd, easily bothered, a fickle & nervous mind, worrisome and bluntly opinionated. "Well, I think..." starts the mercurial maiden, ready to impose their unwanted opinion on another.
  • ♎ Libra: Indecisive, eager to please for personal gain, and forced pleasantness. Characteristically neutral that shows as a form of passiveness to avoid confrontation. Isn't quite sure of what they want. Superficial and dependent on the company of others to avoid loneliness. The instability of the scales reflects moodiness, irritability and inconsistency.
  • ♏ Scorpio: Actions driven by irrational and emotional impulses. Thinks highly of oneself and holds an all-or-nothing attitude. Controlling behavior, underlying paranoia, and internal anger manifesting as visible irritability and frustration. "No one understands me" says the Scorpion, who actively isolates themselves from others.
  • ♐ Sagittarius: Laziness, offensive humor and reckless behavior. Forceful of views & attacks and critically questions the views of others. Boastful, temperamental and self-centered; believes they can never be wrong. Escapism through indulgence. The Ego is inflated and judgment is poor. The centaur preaches and claims to have wisdom, yet through actions show an irresponsible fool.
  • ♑ Capricorn: Superficially concerned with status. Criticizing, selfish and cold. Takes oneself too seriously. Gloomy, worrisome, lethargic, and emit an unwelcoming presence. The saturnian seagoat sees the world as against them, as a mountain blocking their way. "I am unlucky" they sigh, when it is only their consuming pessimism and self-doubt acting as the mountain.
  • ♒ Aquarius: Detached, arrogant, unsympathetic, frigid and erratic in action. Preaches open-mindedness yet expresses opinions in a dogmatic manner. Minimizes serious situations, breaks rules that do not make sense by their flawed standards, and fights for pointless causes. "I seek belonging" says the water-bearer, who purposefully tries to not belong for the sake of individualism.
  • ♓ Pisces: Overly sensitive, teary, and a habit of lying. An open display of indulgence in one's sorrows and misfortunes that reflect a victim complex. Unreliable, lazy and avoids responsibilities through escapism. "I sacrifice so much and get nothing" weeps the fish, who must know that it is not sacrifice if there is reward.
Wanna know the truth behind Girls like Girls?

I have been working on finding my voice for years. As an artist, I always want everything I create to represent what my soul feels and sounds like – whether it’s a video concept or a lyric or melody.

Two years ago on a rare rainy day in Los Angeles, in a songwriting session with Owen Thomas and Lily May Young, I was venting my frustration about my music not connecting the way I wanted it to. Lily looked me in the eye and asked, “Tell me something nobody knows about you, something you are afraid to sing about?“ I immediately thought, well I like girls and that’s what I want to sing about, but even then I struggled to say it out loud. Finally, I told Lily that I always say “you” and “them" and never the pronoun “her" in all my songs because I was afraid it wouldn’t connect. We talked more about concepts and my experiences, and how I loved the idea of stealing another guy’s girl because that was always a fantasy of mine. Growing up, everything I did was always about girls. I took dance because of girls. I got involved in student council because of girls. Not that I ever expected any of them to like me back, but I just felt comforted being around them, even if I could never date them. So there we were. The song “Girls like Girls" was born.

I imagined a very emotional, heart-wrenching but real music video to go along with the song. When we shot the music video for “Girls like Girls,“ I felt like I was finally telling my story for the first time. The yearning feelings I had and also the feeling of being so alone. I think that’s why people connected with the music video. Not only because they too have experienced deeply liking someone, but also the sadness and longing that comes with it. You could be around so many people, and still have the feeling of being so alone and misunderstood. It’s that fear of rejection and uncertainty of whether the person will like you back that makes you question everything. I struggled with these feelings so much growing up. I’d fall in love with girls who would never give me the time of day, or if they would, they had no idea I had other intentions. I had my heart broken over and over again; I never felt good enough. My life was led by these crushes as far back as first grade, when I had a crush on my teacher. That was the first time I realized I liked girls. But the problem is you feel like you can’t share these true feelings with anyone for fear of outing yourself and facing judgement. So you struggle. And feel alone. Growing up, there were some [out] celebrities who were much older than I was and I wondered if I had to wait until then to be happy. I didn’t have role models who I could relate to at the time, where I could think, if they can do it, I can do it.

Most of the time, you become confident after years of struggling during your young adulthood. I want to encourage the youth to find that confidence now. Not later. For them to know their own self-worth at an earlier age. It’s been really cool at my concerts to see all of these young fans showing up alone, and then leaving with friends. The music and stories I create have built this judgement-free safe zone. But most of all, they have inspired me to be comfortable with myself, and to let them in. They unintentionally gave me a gift that I am forever grateful for. Most of my music isn’t necessarily about heartbreak or other people, but more so everyone’s personal journey and falling in love with yourself.

I think that’s why my fans and I relate to each other. My music reassures them that they aren’t alone – that their feelings are valid, that they are enough and they will find someone to love them back. I didn’t have that hope growing up, so I get emotional and inspired (or encouraged) every time I meet a fan who looks at me that way.

It’s hard sometimes, especially after this election, because I feel a responsibility to these girls. I know they are looking to me for guidance and comfort. It breaks my heart that fear is so present in our world right now. School is hard enough and it breaks my heart to see these kids under attack by hate crimes and bullying.

Hope. That’s my cause. I strive to inspire hope through human compassion and through music. Hope leads me through my lyrics, stories, and melodies. You must continue on, and know in your heart you are not alone, and have confidence that love will find its way back to you.

Statistics are so hard to understand. Like you know how less than 1 percent of the population are vegan? And how between 47 to 60 percent of mono-crops like corn, soy and grains go to feed farmed animals, not humans? And how despite these two facts, vegans are still somehow solely responsible 100 percent of the exploitation of workers who pick those crops? I mean that makes no sense at all to me so I must just be really bad at maths.

2

Gemanimate 2!
color study

For those who don’t know yet, I’m participating on the second project of @gemanimate ! We’re reanimating the episode “the answer” and I’m responsible for the shot where sapphire says “Now, please wait here, I must attend to my duties” to the rubies! So I made the background inspired on the Book version of the answer and based on that got this color variations to choose. Still working on the rubies ;)

Mad: Part 16 (Final)

“We're all a little crazy on the inside, some are just better at hiding it than others.”

Warning: Contains graphic smut

Teaser  Part 1  Part 2  Part 3 Part 4  Part 5  Part 6  Part 7  Part 8  Part 9  Part 10  Part 11  Part 12  Part 13  Part 14  Part 15 

Keep reading

siriustblack  asked:

57 + andreil?

from this list of prompts - please don’t send more!

The first time Neil meets Andrew, there isn’t any intention behind it. Or rather, there’s no intent to go out and meet new people. Neil doesn’t intend to catch someone’s eye and share a joke from across a room. And he definitely doesn’t intend to be rescued from his own drunk self by the same stranger.

Matt seems kind of alarmed to see Neil with a stranger - probably because Neil openly resisted getting to know Matt, the least threatening person in the world, probably, and now he’s in a decidedly angry-looking stranger’s lap on a curb. “Neil, I left you alone for five minutes, how did you make everything go wrong in that time?”

Neil doesn’t groan. He doesn’t. “Bad luck follows me?”

The blonde guy doesn’t laugh. Neil’s not sure he said anything. Neil really doesn’t know why he’s the one to follow Neil out of the bar when the world started spinning.

Matt laughs, a little. “Not entirely unlucky. You’ve made a friend?” Neil’s sure he’s sizing the other guy up, making sure he has no untoward intentions with Neil, but he doesn’t see it. All he sees is cement and surprisingly nice shoes (not his own). 

“Andrew,” the guy offers, not unkindly. In fact, there’s not much of anything in his tone.

“Right,” Matt says, sounding somehow unsure. “Well, thanks for helping Neil. He’s kind of a danger magnet. I should, uh, get him back home.” Matt’s voice is hesitant, and even through the fog in Neil’s mind, he knows why.

“It’s Dan’s night,” he protests weakly. “Go back in. I’m fine.”

“Neil,” Matt says, and his voice is as hard as it always gets when Neil lies. “You freak out when I pat your shoulder and you’re in this guy’s lap. Can you even stand up? Don’t- don’t try it, man.”

Neil tries it. The world shakes, and he ends up back in Andrew’s lap, with only the addition of a hand on his back that might be for stability or maybe just for ease. Andrew seems nonplussed by all of these events. Any other time, Neil would be full of questions for Andrew. Any less drunk, and he’d ask them. Maybe it’s good you met this way, some self-preservation instinct suggests, but Neil isn’t sure this state is good for anything.

“Dan won’t mind,” Matt says, and Neil knows he’s right. “It’s part of parenthood, eh?”

So Matt starts to pull Neil up, and wraps an arm securely around his waist despite the height difference. 

Neil was never really taught manners, but something sticks out anyway. He looks at Andrew with all the focus he can muster, trying to commit his face to memory, and says, “Thank you,” carefully. Andrew doesn’t respond, or maybe Neil just doesn’t notice, and then he’s gone.

Keep reading

|| the rosewater potion ||

[[request prompt: /Harry Potter au/ …Person A (reader) was making a love potion for her crush and person B (Peter/her enemy) accidentally drank it. Nothing happened to them so person A thought she did it wrong and gave the rest to her best friend who /did/ actually fall in love w somebody meaning it worked…]]

guys, I’m sorry!! I know I said I would quit writing to focus on a personal project of mine, but I just got this request sent to me like a few hours ago and I just HAD to write it.

also a bit of a warning, peter is kind of an asshole in this story so ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

tags [permanent + peter parker]: @ghostedwolf , @lovelybaka , @animexchocolate, @psychicwitchphilosopher , @pharaohkiller , @moonlight53 , @literatureandimmature, @daydr3ams-away, @wannabe-weasley , @mcusebstan , @tmrhollandkay , @pepcvina , @nekonerdxox , @lokigirl18 , @fangeekkk , @kylielo22 , @wavy-ley , @lghockey , @buckysendoftheline , @1022bridgetp , @potterjamesharry , @aenna-4 , @mcheung0314 , @samanthasmileys

word count: 2,800+

**please don’t repost/plagiarize this story. Reblogs are fine**

——

You were staring at your crush, admiring his handsome features from afar as you had your Potions textbook open. Before your beloved Daniel stepped into the scene, you had been researching the recipe to make the perfect love potion, and you were determined to use it on Daniel.

Flakes of snow gently fell across the courtyard, making you shiver a bit from your seat on the bench. Your cheeks were turned into a rosy red as the air came out of your lips in wispy puffs, but you didn’t mind the cold so long as Daniel was around.

Keep reading

Negative Expressions of the Signs
  • ♈ Aries: Aggressive, forceful, inconsiderate. Immature, offensive and spontaneous tantrums with no apology. Egocentric, boastful and feels entitled. The ram has an ill temper and a hard head; they believe their way is The Way.
  • ♉ Taurus: An affair with greed and sloth. Roots embedded and wrapped around the brain, suggesting unchangeable ways. Clingy of things and people, and little patience when bothered. Too proud to admit faults. The bull has their hooves dug underneath the ground, becoming immovable and unyielding for willful reasons.

Keep reading

the-word-weaver-of-the-faeries  asked:

“let’s keep this between the two of us.” Azriel and Feyre?

“Let’s keep this between the two of us, okay?” Feyre mutters to Az as he slips, unobtrusively into her bedchamber and she jumps to her feet, hurrying to meet him. 

The shadowsinger just nods, ever dutiful to his High Lady’s every wish. 

“No-one saw you come up here, did they?” she can’t help herself asking anxiously, glancing over his shoulder as though expecting Rhys to burst through the door at any moment and catch them together. 

Azriel just gives her a flat look that implies he’s insulted she would even ask such a thing of him. Perks of being a super spy, she supposes. 

“Alright, I’m ready,” she says, holding out a hand in invitation. Azriel grips it tightly and they winnow into shadow and darkness. They emerge moments later onto the pleasantly warm Velaris streets, pleasantly bustling but not overly crowded, something neither of them would have appreciated. 

They set off together, Azriel quietly leading the way while Feyre follows, smiling and nodding at some of the people they pass who wave greetings to her. “Thanks so much for this, Az,” she puffs out, checking her bag to ensure she brought her purse with her. She doesn’t usually, typically relying on the convenient credit she has in most stores, but she doesn’t want Rhys to have any inclination of her purchase today. “You’re a lifesaver.” 

“It’s no trouble,” he says, leading them down into a quiet, shaded street and walking to the very end, a small store tucked into the corner. “I live to serve at the  High Lady’s pleasure.” She squints up at him, one eyebrow raised, and he smirks. “And entertaining as his last birthday was, I understand it’s not an experience you want to repeat.” 

“No,” Feyre groans, burying her face in a hand at the shame of it. She has many talents and she loves her mate dearly, as Azriel knows,  but gift buying has never been her strong-suit. And the bastard has a habit of finding exactly what she wants every single year without fail. Just once she wants to get him something absolutely perfect. Fortunately, she has a secret weapon in the form of Azriel. 

“Really though,” she grumbles, pushing into the shop after him, “Who’s allergic to strawberries?”  

“Rhys,” Azriel hums simply in that way that implies he knows everything in the world and that nothing could ever surprise him. 

Well, he had been surprised last year when Rhys had taken a large bite from one of the chocolates she had delightedly given him and then promptly started choking. The shadowsinger hadn’t been expecting that. Unfortunately neither had she. 

“And Keir,” he adds as an apparently innocent afterthought. 

Feyre blinks, startled, looking round at him. She supposes it’s not too odd, Keir and Rhys are related, even distantly. Still, “I suspect that comes from the list you have tucked away somewhere that details every known method of killing that bastard; not a concern for the steward’s meal choices?” She muses lightly. That tugs a small, dark smirk out of Az. 

Azriel leads her to the back of the shop then stops in front of one of the small, dusty glass-fronted cabinets to let her see what he’s picked out for her. She opens her mouth to point out that the display is stuffed full of items, she isn’t sure which one he means, but she stops when she sees it, her face lighting up in a smile. Hugging a rather startled Az she whispers, “It’s perfect.” And is relieved when he accepts the hug, smiling, patting her rather awkwardly on the shoulder to convey his acceptance of her gratitude. 

Once Feyre has made her purchase and had it carefully wrapped up by the owner, who seems friendly with Azriel, well, as friendly as anyone can be with him, the two wander back out onto the streets of Velaris. Feyre insists on dragging him into a nearby shop and pressing a large amount of fine differently coloured balls of wool into Az’s protesting hands and then further insists on taking him for a quiet cup of tea. 

She rarely spends time alone with the shadowsinger, he always seems to be out somewhere on some secret mission sometimes she doubts even Rhys knows about. That or closeted up in his room with Mor, enjoying the time he has with her. Usually she only has conversations with him like this when they all go to Rita’s and neither of them feel much like dancing for an hour or so. 

It’s nice, though. Azriel has a quiet, oddly calming presence, even with the shadows darting around him, whispering, always whispering. There’s a comfort to being around him, a sense of safety, and an odd feeling that she could tell him anything and he would simply nod and understand. As a result, Az is the one she’s gone to more times than she can count when she’s had a difficult decision about the court to make that she doesn’t want to put on her mate. He inevitably listens to all she has to say and offers a few quiet insights that help her make up her mind. She values his opinion, and his friendship, more highly than she thinks he’ll ever know. 

Not longer after they’ve sat down in a comfortable booth by the window, they’re both brought two teas and slices of cake that she hadn’t ordered, but that she suspects Azriel did, given that they’re both topped with liberal amounts of strawberries and that their arrival prompts a rare, mischievous smile to blossom across his lips. 

Feyre nibbles at her cake then decides now is as good a time as any to bring up what she wants to, as well as have her revenge for this little dig about the strawberries. Looking slyly at Az over the rim of her cup she says innocently, “I’m sorry to take you away from Mor, I know you just got back, you must have been wanting to spend some time with her.” 

Azriel just blinks at her, saying nothing, as he drops a lump of sugar into his tea. Then another. Then another. She’s discovered, from these little retreats they make to this place from time to time when they both need a little peace and quiet, that he takes an inordinate amount of sugar in his tea. He had confessed to her once, with a small smile, that it was his one and only weakness. 

Finally, carefully, too carefully, Azriel says, “I’ll have plenty of time to brief Mor, later.” Yes, brief her, amongst other things. 

“Mm,” Feyre muses, taking a small sip of tea, “Wouldn’t you rather have spent the morning with her than me?” 

Azriel blinks, apparently genuinely bemused by this comment, “You’re my friend, Feyre,” he says quietly, sincerely, “I like spending time with both of you.” Damn. She really should leave the subtlety and intrigue up to Az as well as the gift choosing. And he’s too earnest and good-natured, there’s no fun in teasing him at all. 

“Azriel,” she says quietly, a soft smile tugging at her lips, “I know.” He blinks owlishly up at her again, clearly implying you know what? And she just scowls at him because if she doesn’t get to tease him then she’s not playing games with him either. 

A deep flush of colour burns into Az’s cheeks as he stares at her, “How?” he rasps eventually and she smirks smugly at him. 

“You’re not the only one who can know other people’s secrets, Az,” she says with a grin, taking another pointed bite of the strawberry cake, which really isn’t half bad. She might have to bring Rhys here at some point, then she might have half a chance of finishing a dessert on her own without the High Lord’s spoon magically making its way over to her plate while he twitters about ‘mating bond equality’ and ‘what’s yours is mine, Feyre darling’. 

Azriel’s face darkens at that and a low, protective growl rumbles in his chest, “Who told you?” he demands, hands curling into fists. 

She starts in surprise at the sudden black venom in his voice and opens her mouth to say something when Azriel freezes, apparently realising how he’d reacted. The blush on his cheeks darkens and his wings twitch, clearly uncomfortable. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs quietly, and she has her suspicions that he and Mor haven’t been together for long confirmed, based on his response. 

“It’s alright, I understand,” she says quietly, and she does. That need to protect, to keep her safe must be heightened for the two of them after the amount of time they spent apart. She smiles, “And no-one told me, Az,” she huffs, a faint hint of playful scolding in her tone, “I can find some things out without the help of you and your spies, you know, I’m not blind.” 

“Says the woman who didn’t notice for nearly fifty years that her mate is allergic to strawberries,” Az mumbles into his tea, but she notes the playful spark in his eyes and resists the urge to kick him under the table with difficulty.

Instead she reaches over and takes his hand, “I’m happy for you, Azriel. For both of you. You deserve this,” she gives his hand a soft squeeze and finally manages to coax a faint smile from him.  “But why-” 

“Didn’t we tell anyone?” Azriel supplies for her. She supposes he has to find some way to claw back his composure, the best way he knows how, making sure he knows everything she does. Mostly. She nods. He shifts uncomfortably, wings rustling in agitation at his back as he shrugs. “We would have, when we were ready,” he says quietly. “We’re just…Not.” She’s never seen him so discomposed before, he’s usually the picture of articulate eloquence. But Mor…She does this to him. “Not yet, Feyre, please-” 

She gives his hand another quick squeeze, smiling, “I won’t breathe a word of it to anyone, Az, I promise.” He smiles, nodding his head, and thanks her. 

They finish their tea and cake and then Feyre winnows him to Mor’s townhouse before returning herself to the House of Wind to finish up her preparations for Rhys’ birthday. 

The next day, her mate is delighted by the delicate ornament of crystal Illyrian wings she gives him, after having spent all of the day before painting them, accenting the details until they’re a near perfect replica of her mate’s own. 

Feyre notes the way Azriel’s scarred, gentle hand slides around Mor’s waist, squeezing, drawing her in close, just for a moment while no-one else is watching….But misses the way Rhys raises his glass of wine in Azriel’s direction while she’s chatting to Mor, thanking his brother for picking out the gift. Az nods and smiles. The two of them are content to keep this particular secret between themselves for the rest of their long eternities. 

Shower Stall Encounters || Bucky Barnes x Reader [[smut]]

{summary: lately, you’ve been going to the gym, but not for the sake of losing weight or living healthier. no, the reason why you were at the gym was to admire a buff young man with dark hair and startling blue eyes. (note this is going to be a modern au, meaning bucky is going to be an oridinary man with no metal arm)}

*in idubbbz voice* as a content creator, i shall abide by the rules of the internet and use all the newest and coolest devices at my disposal to create content for the internet no matter what…uh amen.

an anon wanted more smut content so…here I am >w>

permenant tags: i won’t mention them because this post is very NSFW, so unless they specifically state that they want to be tagged in nsfw posts, this part will remain empty

warnings: female masturbation and smut (sex in the shower stall)

**dont plagiarize/repost this story, reblogs are fine**

——

Dear God, he was doing laps around the pool, and you were practically drooling at the sight of his strained body dressed in nothing but a pair of swimming trunks. The fact that you could see the droplets of water running down his chiseled chest and abdomen made your knees feel weak.

This had to be the only time you regretted going to the gym.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Today's my birthday and I'm lonely

It’s some sort of natural law that children are twice as heavy asleep as they are awake. Tsunade grimaces faintly, shifting Naruto where he’s passed out against her shoulder. She’s out of practice with children, is still reeling from the fact that this bright, irrepressible five-year-old managed to drag her back into the village she left years ago, but she’s not about to leave him again.

Sarutobi is watching her, gaze both sympathetic and deeply relieved, and she feels a faint pang over her long absence—not quite guilt, but close. After all, he’s had to retake the seat he gave up, had to face his successor’s death and the aftermath of the Kyuubi and all of the stress that’s part and parcel of the Hokage’s job, even though he’s rapidly approaching seventy. And maybe the decision to leave was the right one, but—

Maybe it wasn’t.

The concern in those wise old eyes is clear, though, and Tsunade manages to dredge up a smile through her emotional exhaustion. “Stop looking at me like that, sensei,” she says softly, so as not to wake the little boy responsible for all of this. “I promise, I’m done running.”

Sarutobi shakes his head with a sigh, turning his pipe over in his fingers. He clearly wants to smoke it, but Tsunade’s glare is deterrent enough that he doesn’t even try. “I do not blame you for leaving,” he answers softly. “You must know that. But…are you sure this is what you want, Tsunade?”

“Who else do you have to take the position?” she asks bluntly, and it aches, talking about it, because this is Dan’s dream, Nawaki’s. They were the ones who wanted to be Hokage, not her. Never her. But at the same time, maybe it’s fitting that she be the one to continue their legacy, to carry out the goal that they gave their lives for. “Danzo is a good soldier, but he’d be a terrible leader. Jiraiya is still missing, and has been for years. And Orochimaru…”

“Orochimaru understands that he is not quite suited to the position of Hokage,” Sarutobi finishes gravely. “We have discussed it at length, and come to an agreement. He will forever be a pillar of support for this village, but he is not the correct one to lead it.”

Tsunade shoots him a sharp look, because there’s clearly more to that story than she’s being given, but it’s not her business and she lets it go. “So you’re left with me,” she concludes, and her grip tightens on Naruto as he sighs into her haori. “Besides,” she adds, just one hair shy of fierce, “it will be good protection for Naruto. He’s been gone a week and a half already. I’ll just keep him out of sight until my appointment and then introduce him as my son. No one will dare do anything to the Hokage’s heir.”

Sarutobi’s smile is small and wry, but still warm. “I’ll get the paperwork together,” he agrees easily, eyes on the little blond. He looks…tired. Tired and regretful. “This will be…good for him, I believe. You will be good for him, Tsunade.”

Her grasp on him tightens, the flat of one hand pressing against a narrow, delicate back, the other sliding into hair the same color as his father’s. “He’s good for me,” she murmurs, pressing a kiss to Naruto’s forehead, and doesn’t even try to fight her smile. “That he could have grown up as he did and still be so—so bright, it’s…amazing.”

“That it is.” Sarutobi tucks his unlit pipe in the corner of his mouth and smiles back. “That it is.”

Imagine your brother checking in on you and Chris.

A/N: Part 3 of ‘Just Friends’ 😊 I love every part of this, I hope I’m not being conceited when I say that. 😂 You can read the previous parts here: (Just Friends: Part 1/Part 2)

Chris sat on the floor with his back against your sofa; the hands on your clock were slowly ticking over to midnight. He took a bite of his pizza and eyed you as your black Sharpie dashed lines along the top left corner of the pizza box. It was your turn to be the hangman, to create a word, phrase, or message for Chris to guess. You’d guessed his phrase ‘bossy control freak’ fairly quickly, and that phrase resulted with a half eaten pizza crust being tossed at his face. Now it was his turn, and from the number of blank spaces- he knew it wasn’t 'egotistical asshole’ 'cause well- that would’ve been too easy.
_ _ _   _ _ _   _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _

“Why is it so long?” Chris asked and you shrugged, taking a bite of your slice of Hawaiian pizza. You slid pizza box over to him and he ran his index finger across the dashes, pondering with furrowed brows and pursed lips. “I’m going to start with the vowels, I guess. Give me an A,” he told you and slid the box back across.

_ _ _   A _ _   _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _   _ _ _   _ _ _ _ _

“Is there an E?”

“Let’s see, shall we?”

_ _ _   A _ E   _ _ _   _ _ E _ _ _ _ _   _ _ E   _ _ _ _ _

“Three Es,” Chris pressed a finger to his lips, tapping the tip of his nose. “Okay, um- can I get an I?”

“You most certainly can,” you nodded.

_ _ _   A _ E   _ _ _   _ _ E _ _ I _ _   _ _ E   _ I _ _ _

“That doesn’t help,” he laughed and you smirked. “Okay, give me an O and a U while I take a bite of this pizza.” You did as he asked while he did as he said. He chewed his bite slowly, watching you with a smile on his lips. Everything about you did something for him. Even as you laid on your stomach on the floor, makeup free, and in your grey 'Basic’ sweatshirt and your sheepdog print pajama pants- he thought you looked beautiful. He wished every night could be spent like this, with your company. Even though he’d rather a little less hangman and a lot more kissing, he couldn’t complain; he was with the girl he’d spend every minute with if he could.

_ O U   A _ E   _ O _   _ _ E _ _ I _ _   _ _ E   _ I _ _ _

“What’s next?” You looked up at him and tried not to blush at the way he was looking at you. “What’s next, asshat?” He chuckled because he knew 'asshat’ came from one of your favorite shows 'Supernatural’. The two of you binge-watched it when Sebastian was out of town and he came to take care of you because you had a terrible stomach bug. “Well?” You asked as he studied the letters he already had.

“Is the first word 'you’ and the second word 'are’?”

Y O U   A R E   _ O _   _ _ E _ _ I _ _   _ _ E   _ I _ _ _

“Well done,” you smiled, capping the pen before you took another bite. “Do you want some time to study the riddle?” You murmured with your mouth full, sliding the box over to him. He stopped it with his hand and picked it up; his head tilted adorably as he went over the possibilities in his head. You hoped he figured it out soon because you were starting to lose your inhibitions. Alcohol may not have been involved, but the way his fingers were playing with his lips…

“You’re making me lose my mind.”

“I’m sorry your riddle is so hard,” Chris countered and you realized you’d said that out loud instead of in your head. The heat rose to your cheeks and you dropped your gaze picking at the pineapple on your pizza. “Would you hate me if I give up?” He asked and you shook your head, getting off your belly and sitting cross-legged instead. “Can you tell me what it is?” He asked and you took the box back from him. He watched as you uncapped the pen and filled in the blanks, a soft chuckle escape his throat when he read what you wrote.

Y O U   A R E   N O T   S P E N D I N G   T H E   N I G H T

“Tell me something I don’t know,” he rolled his eyes, trying not to smile at the idea of spending the night one day. “Is that your not so subtle way of kicking me out?” He asked and shoved the final bite of his pizza into his mouth, waiting for an answer of some kind from you.

You wanted to nod, but you couldn’t. You didn’t want him to go, you wanted him to stay the night. You’d spent the last seven years being just friends with a guy you had a major crush on. You spent the first three years of your friendship thinking that was all you’d ever have with him, that he wouldn’t be interested in someone eleven years younger than him. He thought the same, thinking he was way too old for you and that Sebastian would never approve even though he’d stated time and time again “you can date her after she turns twenty-three.” Chris always thought it was a joke, so he watched you date guys your age and he dated women his. It wasn’t until you were twenty-three that he admitted to having some feelings for you, which you kind of pushed aside as he was drunk and you weren’t ready to be a relationship with him. Then you turned twenty-four and he told you- sober- that he liked you. But before anything else could happen, you found out he was directing your first piece creating a bit of conflict.

“What are you smiling at?” Chris caught your ankle in his hand and pulled you towards him. You giggled and swatted his hand away, but made no effort to move back to your original spot. “What?” He asked, getting onto his knees so he could inch closer. He knew he made a promise, but he was getting real tired of being friends with you; he wanted more. “What are you smiling at?” He whispered, his lips inches from yours.

“Nothing.” Your hand gently caressed his face and he pushed his all of his weight onto his left hand as his right moved to rest on your waist. “I was just thinking about what I said in the car, and how I’m right and you’re wrong about our level of self-control.”

“Oh, I knew this would happen,” he told you, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into your side. “I just said all that to get myself here.” You chuckled softly with a shake of your head. “There was no way I was leaving before something happens. I want you way too much,” he admitted breathlessly.

“What are you waiting for?” His lips barely brushed yours when his phone rang. “Don’t pick it up,” you urged him, but he had to; it could’ve been important. “My God, Chris,” you groaned as he sat back down, answering the call. “You’re an idiot,” was your response to him mouthing “I’m sorry.”

“Hello?”

“Get the hell out of my sister’s apartment,” Sebastian’s voice came through and Chris flinched, looking around the vicinity for a hidden camera. There had to be one, the timing was too perfect. You knew from Chris’ expression that it must have been Sebastian and you cursed out Mrs. Baker next door who was Sebastian’s little spy. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s happening in there, asshole. Mrs. Baker from across the hall called me when the two of you arrived home. It’s almost midnight, you’ve eaten your pizza. Now get out of her apartment and go home.”

“C'mon, man. You know I’m-”

“Go home, Chris,” Sebastian growled and Chris sighed, looking over at you. You sighed and nodded, agreeing with Sebastian even though you couldn’t hear what he was saying. This was a mistake, the two of you couldn’t do this- not now. “Go home, please.”

“Yeah,” Chris grabbed his jacket off the couch as he got to his feet, giving you a small smile as he made his way to the front door. “I’m going.”

Tags: @chrisevans-imagines @widowsfics @m-a-t-91 @xoxomioxoxo @imaginesofdreams @ateliefloresdaprimavera @katiew1973 @winter-tospring @shamvictoria11 @caitsymichelle13 @michellekeehlmello @letterstomyself21 @soymikael @faye22 @always-an-evans-addict @sammyrenae68 @brobrobreja @elizabeth-matsuoka @thegirlwiththeimpala @camerica96 @heartblackerthancoffee @whenyourealizethisisntagoodname @yourtropegirl @smoothdogsgirl @createdbytinyaddiction @siofrataylor @dreamingintheimpalawithdean @imaginary-world-of-mine @wanderingkat77 @grantward3 @rileyloves5 @chrsmom302 @buckys-shield @mylittlefandomfanfictions @breezykpop @catch-me-im-a-falling-star @tabi-toast @ssweet-empowerment @hayleesteashoppe @chrixa @feelmyroarrrr @akidura79 @louisespecter @castellandiangelo @ccrossfire @assxmblesstuff @edward-lover18 @princessesnaddy @1d-niallerbieberforever @dxbrevgrey @brokenwingsxix @yourenotrogers @im-a-fandom-slut @royalexperiment256 @palaiasaurus64 @avengingalec @tacohead13 @badassbaker @pegasusdragontiger @evanstanimagines @avengersgirllorianna @sfreeborn @dorisagent101 @antisocial-angel13 @mizzzpink @aekr @scarltvison @imagine-cats96 @adeptkillsyasse @shliic @ask-steverogers @justanotherfangurlz @winchesterandpie @creativeheartgemini @marie-writes-things @what-if-wenevermet @thestarlighthotel @sf0206 @lilya-petrichor @pinkleopardss @lizzysugar @poemwriter98 @bywonater @nerdingoutismylife @rayleyanns @domcaaa996 @drinkapplejuicecuzojwillkillyou (I’m planning on cleaning out my tag list soon, so please let me know you’re actually reading by leaving a message or a like or something. Thanks.)


Part 4

anonymous asked:

Why was Dean acting like an ass to Cas in season 6?

Don’t worry about it, though. We’ve all been there, and especially me. 

So, I won’t get into this a lot because season 6 has been discussed so much - some meta bloggers, like @elizabethrobertajones, even have weirdly specific tags for it (hers is ‘we don’t talk about season six’, which I always assumed was a veiled threat and, as it turns out, she thinks it was a very romantic season and we don’t discuss it nearly enough). 

There are various theories about how this season was built, and one of them is that it was supposed to turn Cas for good - to make him into an enemy and then eliminate him from the show, if I remember correctly, so the general consensus seems to be, Why wasn’t Dean more of an ass to Cas in season 6? This was a narrative centered on misunderstanding and miscommunication, and from Dean’s point of view, Cas was acting like a demented Callahan type for no reason, which, given angels were (they still are, but back then it was particularly noticeable) the most powerful creatures Dean’d ever encountered, was incredibly dangerous, not to mention unpredictable. Dean should have wanted to take Cas out just to be on the safe side, and if it had been anyone else, he would have done it. But, of course, deep bond and stuff. Even after Cas’ done the unforgivable and hurt Sam, possibly for good (protect Sam: remember that’s Dean’s genetic imprinting, and he steamrolls over both friends and enemies to get that done), Dean still has enough empathy and affection for Cas to come clean about his own feelings, and to try and help Cas, or even save him, if he can. That, I think, is unprecedented?

Something that doesn’t come up a lot as a reason why Dean was so awful to Cas during this season (and therefore, what I’ll focus on here) is how Dean constantly refuses to see Cas for what he is - not a human being, but an unknowable, alien, otherwordly creature

Now, from Dean’s perspective (at the beginning of season 4), angels are not monsters, or things he hunts, or things that exist in the real world; they are, instead much more close and personal than that. They are a cherished memory of his mother, and they are, therefore, an emotional concept which symbolizes peace and being safe and thinking that things could, one day, be alright. This is thrown into particular sharp contrast if we compare Dean’s religious beliefs to Sam’s - we know that Dean doesn’t believe in God, and therefore angels, and that he doesn’t pray. So, for him, angels really are this intimate, childish thing he’s allowed himself to cling to all these years: his mother’s voice, full of love, biding him goodnight. And when Cas shows up, it’s painfully clear that Dean takes his very existence personally, and he’s not at all happy with any part of it. Cas is important in the narrative because he sort of ‘pushes’ Dean out of his comfort zone; he challenges him, and makes him feel out of control in a life where Dean’s fought so hard to be in control at all times (because someone had to be). In a way, I wouldn’t be surprised if Cas’ overt sexual aggressiveness was planned for exactly this reason - because Dean’s been written as bi from the start, and yet this is a part of himself he keep a tight rein over, and Cas’ behaviour very nearly shatters all that. We’ve seen Dean’s uncomfortable with being flirted at, and he’s uncomfortable with anyone being too close to him (in every sense) and Cas, in this sense, is a nuclear reaction. All those secrets Dean’s fought so hard to protect from his brother and Bobby and everyone else - now there’s someone who knows them. All of them, including what he really thinks about himself and the shameful things he did in Hell and how they made him feel. And the fact Cas was always in Dean’s personal space was partly meant, I think, to symbolize this intrusion into Dean’s mind and soul. 

(It must have been terrifying, really.)

And the thing is, out of all the possible responses Dean could have to this gobsmacking, life-changing revelation (that God exists and angels exist and one of them saved him from Hell and is now following him around), what Dean chooses to do is extremely revealing: he starts treating Cas like a human

Keep reading

My first year at EU was interesting to say the least. I learned the secret behind the many strange traditions early on. I learned of you within the first month. I went from shock at your discovery to fascination. Then to fear and loathing as I saw what you would do.

I didn’t let that get in the way of my schooling. I was majoring in Conservation Biology, so you left me be. I was protecting your places, after all. The fact that I wasn’t doing it for you didn’t matter. I could feel you watching me as I knitted in the common rooms or worked on my book in the food court, and I could hear the baying of the hounds and the cries of the hunt some nights. But you left me be, and so I carried on.

I took the normal precautions, of course, and a few of my own. Vervain in the window-box, iron wire on the bedposts, iron charms for wrist and neck, iron symbols on the walls of my dorm. A pair of iron knives beneath my mattress, salt packs in my pockets when I walked alone, especially at night, shampoo made with rowan, lotion of hazel. I fed the crows, read them poetry, talked to them about how my semester was going. I gave them trinkets, and their favorite foods. I grew popular with them. Far more than I was with the other students. And for the most part, my first year at EU was uneventful.

No, the first year went fine. It was my sophomore year that things got bad. It was an active year, my RA told me. Kidnappings were frequent. You took many, and kept them for a long time. Several were never returned. The faculty started pushing more precautionary measures, warned us all to be careful, though many never learned what they were being careful of. I was safe, though. I was cautious, I was an ally of the crows, I had little to fear. But not all were so lucky.

It was midway through the first semester when you took something of mine.

I say mine. She was everyones.The most personable, gentle, kind person I knew. One of few I would really call friend. But she was in the choir, and could play the flute with skill, and you took her for yourselves. Everyone who knew her was upset, but musicians and singers are the ones most often returned unharmed, so we waited. I waited. For a month, when It finally became obvious that you had no intention of giving her back. And I knew rage, and I would make it felt.

I made a pair of goggles from silver wire and mood rings, sewed iron charms into my clothes, and I wove iron wire into a helm, made iron rings for my fingers. I spoke to members of the chemistry department, who told me of the war they had fought in the 80’s to get back their professor. Burning iron and sprays of silver had taught you that not everyone would suffer your depredations, and if you would not give her back I would do the same. I had no desire to bargain, because a bargain would have implied you had some right to take what you did. Several other science majors came with me, and we entered your world, and we demanded you return what was ours. You laughed until the iron knives came out, and you hissed when we reminded you of the iron that burns hot and bright as the sun. You gave her back, unwillingly, but without violence. You promised there would be a price, and I promised you that if you tried to take something of mine that I would burn you all.

Now, I am a 5th year working on my masters. There is peace between us. I still take my precautions, but I set out offerings for you some nights. I have drunk with you, made bets and won, given and received favors; given gifts. But you remember that what I give you must be given freely or won, and that you do not take what is mine. You know who is responsible for the ring of five rowans in the middle of campus, who gives out iron charms to the freshmen, who has the protection of the crows. You know that while your activities are tolerated, there are lines you would be very very wise to not cross.

[x]

the standard response to someone on the net saying “i do not care for this fake space fascist or his feelings and i do not want to see him more than i absolutely must” should be “oh ok cool” and we should all leave our super condescending explanations of the hero with a thousand faces or whatever the hell out of it, because who gives a shit. oh you’ve read a tvtropes page in your life and now you know how Intelligent people watch movies good job

anonymous asked:

Can you please write how story will turns out (after the party) if MC actually is a favourite daughter of the head of the most powerful criminal organization and even Saeran didn't know it, bc it was hidden very well? And her dad actually lost her for that 11 days. For RFA + Saeran +V. Hope, you'll like this idea. Love your writing!

I love requests like this, I’ve read them on other imagines blogs and it was so hard not to go the same way they did, so I tried to keep it soft. Like, her dad is very angry, but he can be very sarcastic and more passive aggressive than really violent and intimidating, and MC is the only one who’s not scared of him. And I think I just made this clear on Saeran one, but MC doesn’t have a mom here, which probably made her father even more concerned, since she’s the only one he has.

Hope you like it! ^^

TRIGGER WARNING: Mention of a panic attack on Saeran one


RFA + V and Saeran meeting MC’s criminal father


Zen                

  • You tell him your gangsta boss dad wants to meet him
  • He thinks is a joke at first, but when you two come to your father’s house and he sees the guns… boy
  • He was nervous just because he had to meet your father, now he’s pretty much scared.
  • “Sweetie, is this your new bodyguard? If you wanted a pretty one, you should have asked me instead of looking for one on some stranger’s apartment. You roll your eyes.
  • “Oh, I’ve seen the news, isn’t that the guy accused of sexual harassment?” “Which he already proved being innocent, dad. Something that would never happen if you went to trial. “
  • Zen is scared of seeing his delicate and sweet princess so feisty, but thinks your interaction with your father is kinda funny.
  • Not so funny when your father brings up everything he found about him. School dropout, former member of a biker’s gang and those promo pictures for “Promiscuous Jalapeno”…  your father doesn’t even know what to think.
  • But the worst is the fact that you disappeared from his sight for 11 days and came back with this guy… “Oh, she wasn’t with me for 11 days, sir. She’s been at my house for 2 nights, well, one and a half, technically…” ZEN, SHUT UP!
  • By that point you’re pretty much done with your dad’s passive aggressive threats and Zen’s brutal honesty, so you snap: “Daddy, listen to me. I was staying at this apartment for a couple of days, then he broke his leg and I went to his house to help him, but he kicked me out during night, which I must say… not cool, Zen! I got back to the apartment, which had a bomb on it, and then there was this weird punk guy talking about taking me to paradise or whatever, and Zen saved me, dad! I love him and I never felt safer like I feel around him!”
  • “You… saved her?” “Of course! She was left on her own at this apartment with a bomb! Can you believe it, sir?” and then the two of them started talking about your safety and… well, you were relieved they found something in common.
  • In the end, your father is very impressed about his fast healing and the fact that this isn’t his real name. “We work with fake names around here too.”
  • “You look very strong, son. If you ever consider changing careers, I might have something for you…” you refuse before Zen can say anything.

Yoosung

  • He’s so scared when you tell him your father wants to meet him
  •  And you didn’t even mention he is the head of the mafia
  • When you do… poor thing, he keeps saying he’s fine, but you can see him shaking.
  •  And all those guns on the dinner table aren’t helping at all…
  • “Hi, sir… I’m Yoosung Kim, I’m a vet student at Sky University, I’m 21 years old and this isn’t my natural hair color!” What the fuck, Yoosung?
  • “Oh,I see… sweetie, I thought you were bringing your boyfriend to dinner, who’s that girl?” “Very funny, dad.” He’s so terrified at the guns he doesn’t even hear this comment.
  • “So, sweetie… long time no see, what you’ve been up too? I mean, besides going to stranger’s apartments and dating guys who could come across as your younger brother?” Now Yoosung listens, how mean…
  • “Nothing much, dad. I’ve been trying to get away from your overprotective care and dating a guy who hasn’t a criminal record, for a change. What about you?” Yoosung couldn’t believe the way you treat each other, if he ever talked with his mother like that… well, he wouldn’t be here to tell the story.
  • Your dad keeps throwing these shady comments during all dinner, and you know Yoosung didn’t say anything yet because he’s trying to be respectful, not because he is a coward, so you let it out:
  • “Yoosung, don’t worry, I love you and I’m not going anywhere, no matter what my father says. And as for you, dad, I… do you really want to know what happened in those 11 days? I’ll tell you! I was trapped with a bomb on his dead cousin’s apartment, may god rest her soul, and this guy  here did anything he could to find who led me there. See his eye? It’s MY fault! And it’s completely unfair to him to be treated like that when all he’s done to me is caring and loving me. So, please… just stop being this prick to the MAN I chose!”
  • “What happened to your eye, son?” “Oh, I… I was just gaining some time for my friend to run away, a guy… tortured me and…” “And you lived to tell? That guy was an amateur…” “Or maybe I’m stronger than you think, sir.” OH WOW!
  • In the end, your father really appreciates Yoosung’s devotion to you, since loyalty is something very important in his… business.
  • He also likes how despite all that, he seems like a very innocent guy… oh, father! If he only knew the things you are gonna do with your boyfriend after seeing him so confident like that…

Jaehee

  • When you tell her your father wants to meet her, she seems fine?
  • Then you tell her about his… job, and she’s… not even impressed? Okay…
  • It looks more like you’ve never been here before, she… feels so calm…
  • “Hi, sweetie, you brought a friend for dinner?” “Girlfriend, daddy.”
  • “Oh… I see…” his tone is so monotone and cold, neither of you can tell what he’s thinking. Honestly, you can live with your father being a criminal, but he being a homophobic? That’s another story!
  • “I should have seen it coming, all these guys who work for me on this house every day, and you never showed any interest on any of them.” “I like guys too, daddy, But the mafia thing, you know… is not really my type.”
  • “Well, sweetie, you should make up your mind before you hurt this poor woman…” “Bisexuality is a real thing, sir. And I won’t be hurt since I’m bisexual as your daughter.” “Jaehee?” you look at her surprised, she’s not even looking at him and just calmly drinks her water.
  • “Okay, Ms. Kang. But should I be worried about you hurting my daughter, then? You seem a little older than her, maybe a little more experienced, my daughter is a immature naïve girl who disappeared from me for almost two weeks and came back thinking she’s bisexual… you are not using her, are you?” “Daddy, come on…”
  • “You should think higher of your own daughter, sir. She’s younger, but she’s smart and if you must know, she’s the one who’s been showing a lot more of knowledge in life helping me through my change of careers.” “Oh, really? Tell me more about that.”
  • And then she tells everything about leaving C  & R and opening her own business, and then she tells a little about her life, how was growing up at a house where she wasn’t wanted, graduating early in college and being a black belt in judo. sometimes I forget how baddass she is, Ilove her so much
  • When she finishes, your dad is enchanted, and you fell in love with her all over again.
  •  “I apologize, Ms. Kang. You are a very amazing woman who does justice to another amazing woman. If you ever want some help with your business, I’ll be more than glad to take down the competition…” “I would rather do that providing a good service, sir, but thanks…”
  • “Marry her, or I will…” your father whispers to you.

Jumin

  • You tell him about dinner with your father.  He’s glad, he’s been longing to make your relationship official to both the families.
  • When you tell him about  the mafia, he’s… curious. How come a sweet and innocent girl like you grew up at such a violent environment?
  • He promises he’ll try not to be judgmental, but as soon as he sees the henchmen in position and the guns… he’s legitimately worried about you.
  • “Hello, how is your father?” “He’s fine, thank you for asking. Do you know each other?” “Well, his company has been a pain on my ass for a while now…” “It’s my company too, as it is very likely I’ll be the next CEO.” Jumin, shut up!
  •  “I see… maybe we can do business pretty soon.” “Right now, I would rather focus on getting to know my future father-in-law.” Uhh, Jumin, so smooth…
  • “Oh, so you’re the one who kept her trapped at your house for two days?” “I believe it was three days, sir.” WHAT THE FUCK, JUMIN? YOU’RE GONNA MENTION THE CAGE TOO?
  • “Daddy, I was completely fine with him there. And I must say I felt way safer with him than I ever felt here with all these… guns… and your… employees…” both of the men feel really flustered with your response.
  • “Now, sweetie, don’t be ungrateful. You might see me as overprotective, but I’m always concerned for your safety. And don’t let yourself be fooled. He looks like a gentleman, but if he is anything like his father, you might be in trouble.” Oh boy…
  • “I’m sure you mean well, sir. But I should warn you I’m nothing like my father. And I must say I understand very well why would you be overprotective of such a adorable lady, but you should let her be free to make her own decisions. That’s… something I’m learning by myself as well…” both you and your father feel very thrilled right now.
  • “Well, I suppose she was safe with you after all, much better than being by herself at some stranger’s apartment…”
  • Your father is very impressed about Jumin’s respect for you, he feels as reliable as any of his henchmen, and most importantly, you seem so happy… how can he fight against your happiness?
  • Dinner is over, and you accompany Jumin to his car where Driver Kim is waiting. “Jumin, be honest…” “Yes, MC?” “How many times you held yourself of answering everytime I said ‘daddy’?” “More than you would like to know, MC…”

Saeyoung

  • He’s pretty nervous about meeting your father when you tell him.
  • But when you tell him about his job, he’s surprisingly more relaxed?
  • Oh come on, he’s been dealing with shady people his whole life! Why would he be worried?
  • “Oh sweetie, you brought a clown with you, when is your boyfriend coming?” Saeyoung has a comeback involving “coming”, you almost can read his mind and just glare at him, so he gives up.
  • “So… you must be the boy who got trapped with my daughter at some stranger’s apartment, then took her to this secret cult organization, huh?” “Yeah, and don’t forget the bomb!” Goddamit, Saeyoung!
  • “Well, if it makes you feel any better, daddy, he really tried to push me away, but I was very insistent.” “Push you away how, sweetie?” “The same things you used to tell my mom…” oh, that explains a lot…
  • “I see, so you were a jerk to her…” shit, you though it would be enough… it only made it worse!
  • “Yes, but if it is the same case here, I’m sure you were only thinking about your wife’s safety…” “And yet she ended knocked up, are you trying to imply it’ll be the case here?” SHIT SHIT SHIT!
  • Saeyoung sees his confidence fading away. This man is different, he’s not just some thug, he’s you father, the man who raised you. Why did he think he could be okay with all this? Your father is absolutely right about hating him, he put you in big danger!
  • You see your boyfriend conscience splitting, it’s too much for you to handle, so you vent: “Daddy, don’t be like that! Mom always told me how much you suffered acting like that around her, he suffered the same way, daddy! Even worse, because the person who was after me it’s his own brother who he didn’t see for a long time and… daddy, if you only knew what kind of hell the two of them grew up….” You couldn’t help but cry, Saeyoung hugs you, he doesn’t even care your father is watching this.
  • “Tell me, son. I want to hear your story.” And then Saeyoung tells him everything, always holding your hand.
  • “And your father is the current prime minister? I never liked that guy, anyway. He’s always been a despicable little man!” that coming from the mafia’s head…

Saeran

  • He’s freaking out about meeting your dad, because he doesn’t really feel comfortable around, well… people
  • Then you tell him about your father’s job, and he thinks it’s kinda cute you trying to joke to make him relax
  • You tell him is not a joke, he doesn’t believe it because he did a whole background check on you before deciding you should be the one to stay at Rika’s apartment, and there wasn’t no mention about this.
  • But, come to think of it, this kind of information shouldn’t be easy to find out, right? Oh shit…
  • But your father being a criminal doesn’t really bother him, he would be terrified about him even if your father were a geologist or whatever.
  • The guns and the whole atmosphere on the house is very familiar to him… it reminds him of… oh no! He can’t go there on a moment like this!
  • “So… if this isn’t the one who kidnapped my daughter. Seriously, sweetie? Stockholm Syndrome? I thought I taught you not to fall in love with criminals…”
  • “W-Well, sir, there’s also Lima Syndrome, when the kidnapper is the one in love…” oh no, Saeran… please keep quiet…
  • “How romantic, huh?” your father scoffs, Saeran feels the air escaping from his lungs for a moment, no… no no! Stay calm, Saeran…
  • Dinner is being a disaster, your father keeps glaring and insulting Saeran on his usual passive aggressive manner. You look at Saeran, you’ve seen him like this before, he’s…
  • “He’s having a panic attack!” you jump out of your chair and go to him, your father never seen you move so fast.  He observes you helping this kid telling him to inhale and exhale like he learned in therapy… what’s going on?
  • “Thanks a lot, daddy!” “MC, calm down… I’m okay…” “No, Saeran, he has to listen! Dad, if you can live in peace with your own crimes, good for you, but not everybody is capable of. You see this guy here? He tells me everyday how much he regrets the things he did. I’m able to forgive the men I love, I did it with you, why wouldn’t I do for him?”
  • “You’re… in love with me?” “I already told you that, Saeran…” “Yeah, but if you’re saying in front of you father, you really mean it…” “Well, yeah, I meant before too…”
  • Then your father realize this is just a very lost kid, like he used to be when we was younger. Your mom passed away very young, so he always wondered if she would be able to make him regret it and have a normal life. He’s so glad your mother’s kindness lives through you and if you’re so willing to heal this guy, who is he to get on the way?

V

  • He’s very happy when you tell him your father wants to meet him.
  • And he doesn’t seem to mind your father’s job. “If he was able to raise such a wonderful person like you, he’s not bad at all. Who am I to judge him, anyway?” This guy…
  • And he doesn’t even flinch when your father shower him with threats disguised as questions. “Do you know what people like me do when their loved ones disappear?” “Are you really that insane to show up here like nothing happened?”
  •  “Daddy, please stop…” “I’m just trying to understand what’s gotten into you, sweetie. This older blind guy and… you? I’m sorry to say, but I never knew you had so much daddy issues…” “What are you even saying, dad?”
  •  “With all due respect, sir, daddy issues most of times implies that the daughter seeks for his father features on men she falls in love with. For what I can tell, you and I are nothing alike.” Oh no… V being passive-aggressive gives you the creeps more than all these henchmen…
  • “You’re right, I’ve never put her in dangerous on purpose. You, on the other hand, allowed her to stay at a place where I know it happens to have a bomb, correct?” “Yet, she claims she’s never felt safer, that says a lot about your own household, no?”
  • This polite fight is driving you insane. How can they discus about you like if you were not even there? “SHUT UP YOU BOTH! Dad, you have every right to be mad, but you should know this man here was doing his best to make sure that, whatever was happening, I wouldn’t be hurt, and he didn’t even know me that well… and V, please don’t talk to my father like that, he’s just as scared and worried as you were, and please, don’t ever talk about me or my life as if I couldn’t speak for myself.”
  • “I’m so sorry, love, I had no idea I was acting like that!” he rushes to hug you and keeps apologizing, your father wonders if this man is real…
  • “Sir, I sincerely apologize for my behavior. I know exactly how it feels wanting to protect someone you cherish this much. Just know you raised an amazing woman with the most beautiful soul and I deeply respect you for that.” Your father thought you were the one in danger? Now he feels sorry for this poor man having to handle your temper… and nah, he can’t possibly be real, can he?

My first year at EU was interesting to say the least. I learned the secret behind the many strange traditions early on. I learned of you within the first month. I went from shock at your discovery to fascination. Then to fear and loathing as I saw what you would do.

I didn’t let that get in the way of my schooling. I was majoring in Conservation Biology, so you left me be. I was protecting your places, after all. The fact that I wasn’t doing it for you didn’t matter. I could feel you watching me as I knitted in the common rooms or worked on my book in the food court, and I could hear the baying of the hounds and the cries of the hunt some nights. But you left me be, and so I carried on. I took the normal precautions, of course, and a few of my own. Vervain in the window-box, iron wire on the bedposts, iron charms for wrist and neck, iron symbols on the walls of my dorm. A pair of iron knives beneath my mattress, salt packs in my pockets when I walked alone, especially at night, shampoo made with rowan, lotion of hazel. I fed the crows, read them poetry, talked to them about how my semester was going. I gave them trinkets, and their favorite foods. I grew popular with them. Far more than I was with the other students. And for the most part, my first year at EU was uneventful. No, the first year

went fine. It was my sophomore year that things got bad. It was an active year, my RA told me. Kidnappings were frequent. You took many, and kept them for a long time. Several were never returned. The faculty started pushing more precautionary measures, warned us all to be careful, though many never learned what they were being careful of. I was safe, though. I was cautious, I was an ally of the crows, I had little to fear. But not all were so lucky.

It was midway through the first semester when you took something of mine.

I say mine. She was everyones.The most personable, gentle, kind person I knew. One of few I would really call friend. But she was in the choir, and could play the flute with skill, and you took her for yourselves. Everyone who knew her was upset, but musicians and singers are the ones most often returned unharmed, so we waited. I waited. For two weeks, when It finally became obvious that you had no intention of giving her back. And I knew rage, and I would make it felt.

I made a pair of goggles from silver wire and mood rings, sewed iron charms into my clothes, and I wove iron wire and heavy yarn into a helm, made iron rings for my fingers. I spoke to members of the chemistry department, who told me of the war they had fought in the 80’s to get back their professor. Burning iron and sprays of silver had taught you that not everyone would suffer your depredations, and if you would not give her back I would do the same. I had no desire to bargain, because a bargain would have implied you had some right to take what you did. Several others came with me science majors all, and we entered your world, and we demanded you return what was ours. You laughed until the iron knives came out, and you hissed when we reminded you of the iron that blazes hot and bright as the sun. You gave her back, unwillingly, but without violence. You promised there would be a price, and I promised you that if you tried to take something of mine that I would burn you all.

Now, I am a 5th year working on my masters. There is peace between us. I still take my precautions, but I set out offerings for you some nights. I have drunk with you, made bets and won, given and received favors; given gifts. But you remember that what I give you must be given freely or won, and that you do not take what is mine. You know who is responsible for the ring of five rowans in the middle of campus, who gives out iron charms to the freshmen, who has the protection of the crows. You know that while your activities are tolerated, there are lines you would be very very wise to not cross.

[x]

anonymous asked:

(rape tw) Can you explain why you don't think HIV+ people have a moral responsibility to tell potential partners their status, if that is indeed your position? I understand that if they have an undetectable viral load and they practice safer sex, the risk of transmission is very low, but it still exists, no? I'm just trying to understand. I have HPV and I feel guilty for not telling the man who raped me beforehand, and that's not even a potentially fatal illness, just an inconvenience. (1/2)

(2/2) I want to support HIV+ people and not make their lives harder, but I’m having a really hard time with this perspective from an ethical standpoint.

(anon sorry, i answered this but forgot it in my drafts)

anon, i’m not really sure where this is coming from since i haven’t posted about this in a while [since this came in before my other post got resurrected] but i’ll try to explain (and forgive me, this got so damn long but i’m quite swamped lately and have no time to edit)

i don’t think i’ve said that there’s no responsibility to disclose, and i wonder what made you think i did, but the main point i want to get across is that it doesn’t really matter what i think about the morality of nondisclosure in any given situation — what matters is whether i think it should be a serious crime. this is a separate question because the law isn’t about morality, in this case it should be about public health.

and these laws are a resounding failure from a public health perspective, especially since as written they penalize testing and usually completely fail to take into account the risk level of the activity (including condom use) or even whether transmission actually occurred (even when the charge is “criminal transmission”!). these laws were born out of stigma, not science or real ethics. but you don’t have to take my word for it; this is the accepted position among HIV/AIDS and sexual health advocacy organizations, and even the CDC is recommending that they be reviewed. i really recommend reading what these organizations have to say about it. from a quick search UNAIDS’s policy brief (pdf) seems pretty good and clear but there is much more out there.

i’m so sorry about what happened to you and i want to know that you’re not at fault at all. no rape survivor is at fault for their rape or for the consequences of the rape for the rapist. he chose to do that to you, and he accepted the risks that came with that. that is entirely on him!

i think a major problem with the debate about disclosure is that, as the UNAIDS brief says, it “places […] responsibility for HIV prevention exclusively on those already living with HIV and dilutes the public health message of shared responsibility for sexual health between sexual partners.” this applies to other STIs as well. we all have to take responsibility for our own sexual health, at least when it comes to acts we consented to.

even if it may seem to make sense on a moral level, placing the entire responsibility on people who know they’re positive for HIV or any other infection just doesn’t work. there will always be people who don’t know their status or can’t know their status for sure because they were exposed too recently. these people can’t disclose, yet if they are HIV+ they pose a much greater transmission risk than people who know they’re positive because they can’t possibly be accessing treatment, because transmission risk is highest in the acute infection stage when they’ve first contracted HIV, and because they’re less likely to be taking the additional safer sex precautions that they’d take if they knew.

there is still a profound stigma against people living with HIV and other STIs. when we’re influenced by this stigma, we’re likely to focus on finding someone to blame for transmission (or even the possibility of transmission). when we reject the stigma, we can focus on effective methods of prevention which involve helping everyone accurately judge their risk level and make informed choices to protect themselves.

you mention that safer sex with someone with an undetectable viral load is very low-risk (so low-risk, in fact, that i don’t think there’s ever been a documented case of transmission under these circumstances) but that any risk is too much. it’s fine if you feel that way; you set your own boundaries. but sex with someone who doesn’t know their status is much riskier. so is it morally permissible not to disclose to your partners that you don’t know your status? and should not disclosing that be a crime?

i don’t think most people think so, or they haven’t thought about it. to a lot of people, not knowing their status is normal, because their sexual choices are governed by assumptions: they assume that they are negative, for HIV, HSV, etc., and they assume that everyone they have sex with is negative, unless they say otherwise. they assume this partly because of lack of education, and partly because of stigma. we think of people with STIs as dirty, reckless, less than virtuous. we don’t want to think of ourselves or the people we’re intimate with that way. but of course, people with STIs are not those things — having an STI is an entirely morally neutral characteristic of a person. and these assumptions about ourselves and others aren’t sound. they are actually an obstacle to STI prevention.

so these debates trouble me because they obscure the fact that the best practice for everyone is to get tested regularly, disclose what you know about your status (including whether you know it!), and ask about your partner’s status, making it clear that it’s safe for them to be honest. and when we place all responsibility on people who know they’re positive, we validate our assumptions that everyone is negative, but we have to challenge those assumptions if we want to protect ourselves and each other. we have to acknowledge that when we decide to have sex based on the assumption that our partner must be negative, we are taking a risk. even in a world where everyone who knows they’re positive disclosed — and i believe most do — this would be a risk.

the sooner we can accept this and reject stigma, the sooner we can take steps toward more honest and open communication in our sexual lives and make healthy, fully informed choices, the sooner we can stop the spread of HIV.

anonymous asked:

Mark liked a tweet by a big misha/vicki (calling her ugly etc) hater and while he may not know everybody whose tweet he favors the tweet itself is an insult to misha and his fans calling us crazy or something and he clearly saw and liked that

Uhm, I just went through Mark’s Twitter and honestly I still feel the same way about him. Over the last few days, he’s mostly liked stuff about Manchester, and he’s also given visibility to a fan who needed money and her GoFundMe page, which was very decent of him. Also, his response to Jim Michaels proves that, if anything, he really respects the fans an awful lot.

He also retweeted these (a very short selection of the many political things he retweets or likes) -

- and he chose to share this pic of his daughter on Instagram, knowing full well what the fans would make of it -

- so I really don’t see any evidence that he’s a hater of any kind. Sure, he seems slightly annoyed by how Crowley’s death was handled -

(he liked this tweet)

- but to me, that’s the rational response. Hell, it annoyed me as a viewer, it must have been way worse for someone who brought that character to life for eight years with such love and care. Ugh.

All in all, he seems to be a wonderful person. Please, don’t be so harsh on him?

(liked this tweet)

decembercamiecherries  asked:

I don't know if you're still doing the "Travel Drabbles" buuuuut if you are, would you be interested in writing a drabble with the prompts of 'killugon' and 'royalty'? I really love royalty aus haha ^^ If not just ignore this whole thing! (you're really great and an incredible writer by the way and every time you post anything it makes my day okay bye)

[shows up with prompt fill two weeks late] so uh, hallo, anyone want cookies? dc, this prompt was excellent. fun fact: I had the last two lines done basically since this hit my inbox, I just had to figure out how I’d get there. killugon, royalty au, 600 words

It takes almost a week for anyone from the Zoldyck castle to finally track Killua down after he’s kidnapped. Not like it matters really: even if he hadn’t been able to take care of his attackers—which he was, he’s a prince not a weakling—traveling mercenary and accidental freer of princes Gon Freecss has been more than capable. Once he’d cut Killua’s bindings and put a small dagger into his hands, the two of them had cut a swath through the bandit camp. The following week has been…

For Gon, it’s probably been an irregular but otherwise acceptable week of mercenary work—although he hasn’t gotten paid at all, and the gold offered by the Zoldyck butlers is turned down with an awkward laugh. He’s certainly taken Killua being the heir to a small but almost hilariously affluent kingdom with barely a blink.

But for Killua, it has been everything. Because for the first time, someone didn’t give a shit about who he was supposed to be, and only cared about him.

“Will I see you again?” Gon asks, expression tight with unspoken nerves. The idea of never seeing Gon again is utterly inconceivable. The realization that Killua doesn’t want to live in a world without his new friend hits him like a felled tree. It’s been a week. How has Gon turned his world on its head in a week. What would it be like with a month? A year?

“Of course, idiot.” Gotoh, Canary, and Amane are all glaring at him as though channeling Queen Kikyo and Prince Illumi all at once, but he doesn’t care.

Gon doesn’t look like he’s ready to let Killua go. “Then, take this as a promise!” he says, and holds out the same dagger that he’d shoved into Killua’s hands almost a week ago. The worn leather sheath is incongruous with the blue steel of the blade. It had been Gon’s father’s, once, and now it’s Gon’s—from Killua’s experience, he uses it more to slice meat and clean his nails than as any sort of memorabilia.

“Will you take it?” Gon asks again.

Killua grins. “It’s a promise,” he says, and tucks Gon’s dagger—his dagger into his belt.

Gon closes his hand over Killua’s, hot as a brand, and Killua’s heart flops over. He can’t stop smiling, though, not in the face of Gon’s grin. And then he’s gone, back into the forest, and Killua can breathe again.

Gotoh’s glare deepens. “Do you know how furious your brother will be,” he says.

Killua shrugs. “You found me, right? And Gon found me first. So there’s no harm done.” Not if he can convince Gon to visit at the palace soon. Maybe he’ll come for Killua’s birthday? Or a feast day? Or maybe Killua can make something up…

“My prince,” Canary says in a tone that might as well be saying you complete idiot. “You are aware the Freecss family is from Whale Island?”

“Of course. Gon told me all about it. He even invited me to visit his aunt—which I’m going to, first chance I get.” He dares them to challenge this, one of the sparingly few things Killua’s ever wanted for himself.

Gotoh’s expression falls into bemused frustration, making Amane and Canary both cough back laughter. He says, “Then you must also know that for the people on Whale Island, willingly accepting a personal dagger is equivalent to accepting an engagement for marriage?”

Killua chokes.