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flamingplay · 8 months

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Letters From the Hole

When we imagine Sisyphus excited to get his workout in, Plato’s cave is alive and well. There’s no shortage of culturally relevant allegories that speak to a) the futility of progress, b) humanity’s willful ignorance, and c) the fact that both of those concepts are central to modern-day American capitalism. We forget about the oppressive nature of wage labor when we think, If I work for 2 hours, I can afford to get myself a little treat. And after I get that little treat, then I’ll be more excited to have to work to stay alive. If we live in a world where life is not guaranteed without needing to work for it, then maybe we don’t live in a world that cares if we live.

Mountainhead, Everything Everything’s upcoming album, gives us a new, eccentric, and equally bleak allegory for unchecked capitalism and its meaningless growth. Set to release March 1st, the UK group tells the story of a world not built from the ground up, but dug from the top down. Mountainhead takes place in a society whose existence is dedicated to endlessly growing a mountain by digging deeper at its foot. As a teaser to the album, Everything Everything frontman Jonathan Higgs writes a letter as one of the lower-level members of mountain society. Those at the bottom work tirelessly to keep the elite elevated at the mountain’s top. It’s something we know a bit too well. As one must imagine Sisyphus happy, one must imagine the mountainheads watching Disney+.

Introduction Izzy Capulong

Letter Jonathan Higgs

Photos by Steven Gullick and Everything Everything

Dear Raymond

Greetings from the hole!

How are you doing? I don't know if your last few letters got lost on the way down or what but it would be great to hear from you. How is life on the slope? Things are very much the same here, every day we build the mountain and every day we dig a little deeper into the earth. There is a load of new stuff being installed in the pit at the moment, we have a simulated daylight bulb in the centre of our cavern, full spectrum, and it's on at least 5 hours a day. A new set of bird song recordings are being trialled and there is a renewed sense of urgency and hope down here. Yeah it's dark, a lot of the time, very very dark. But we're getting Disney+ soon apparently.

We're yet to hear anything but I guess you must have been ordained by now. So what is the daily life of a “Hellkite”? It must be so bright and the air must be so clean on the mountain. Real trees and real fur and breath and feathers and all the animal things around you. We have our own priests down here of course, and they do their best not to tire of us. They're so kind to give us their time and to warn us about drifting off into the dark. David says they are manipulative but I think they're doing us all a favour. One day we can all be like them, we can all get up the mountain, we just have to follow the rules and keep building. David calls it a pyramid scheme, I said “it's not a pyramid lol it's much, much, much bigger than that”. Is it true the mountain reaches the moon now?

There are rumours about what's at the top. Have you ever heard this? Some say it's a big mirror, 1000 miles wide. Some say it's a video screen and all that's on it is an infinitely reoccurring picture of whoever is looking at it. Is that really true? Why would you want to see yourself a million times over stretching into forever? Sounds mental. I heard some people say it's really a statue up there but the face changes into the highest person on the mountain. This all sounds magical and lovely but I think it's going over my head. Have you seen it? Do they tell you what's at the top?

At the deepest, darkest part of the cave they say there is a snake, an immense golden snake that will eat anyone that comes near. I don't know if it's bollocks or what. The priests are very adamant about it and prevent anyone from talking about it. I think it sounds quite cool. Have you ever heard about this snake? I used to be afraid of it but now I think it's the priests that are afraid of it. On some 'nights' we do hear a rumbling that is quite different to the machinery.

David has got a terrible cough, he says it's from the thick black smoke down here but I don't think the fumes are anywhere near as bad as they used to be. Yes we do still have deaths, quite a lot to be honest. Electricity has become quite expensive so we're using fire a lot of the time for heat. Grandmas are a thing of the past. The mining isn't ideal for my back but that's age for ya. My eyes are also getting worse, some of the pigment has gone from them and it's a bit of a strain to see through the smoke especially in the dark. Who needs eyes though really, I can dig and I can carry and I'm going to do my bit to make the mountain bigger. Kevin's head has flattened right out, it's like a slab of cheese, whatever that is. Also, our skin is translucent, more like a jelly or a tadpole. Again, no idea what a tadpole is. Or a jelly actually. Hair is white but that's normal. We get all the vitamin D we need from food it's not like we need sun, plus we'd actually get burnt to a crisp if we ever went outside.

Handsome William is now one of the many shapes of black and grey that slope through our tunnels. I lent him 101 Dalmatians on CD-ROM but his brain started coming out of his nose. David has started to wear the sign of the snake on his face, he says it's the only way to get what we want.

Teeth. Teeth teeth teeth. They've all gone. Kevin has one or two left but mine are all gone. Can teeth fall out of a brain? That's what I feel like, toothless all over, especially in my noggin. I know we don't technically need them anymore and we do have a lot of flavours now. We've got edible brown, ordinary grey, partially submerged grey, extremely colourful brown — we've got flavours coming out of our ears. That reminds me, I'm mostly deaf now but whatever, there's been an incessant hum for most of my life but it's slowly being replaced by a kind of hissing. Neither of which I'm that bothered about. We've got channels too, hundreds of them. Lots of choice. I watched a true crime series about all these crimes and it was entirely true. Well, I say “watched” but I can't see or hear and we don't have a TV.

I don't know if I've been going mad or what but I just feel like maybe I'm starting to maybe possibly have some doubts about this whole mountain thing. It's just, we never get told when things are going to change. I know the mantra is to keep making it bigger, but when is big enough? It's been growing all my life and my parents' life and their parents' life. It's fucking massive. There are millions of us down here just swimming back and forth in the dark and we're dying without ever seeing a crack of light. It's shit in the pit. Please get back to us, we can't keep waiting we need to know when it's our turn to go up.

We have to know why we're building it, we have to know what's at the top. The mountain is in the exosphere and I'm in a disposable nappy. Toothless in the blackness beating my head against the walls of the cave.

But I'll stick with it, I know I will, it's just around the corner. We'll grow it and we'll win it and we'll expand it and we'll do all the things they want. I just miss you and I want to see the sun one day.

I'm 45% microplastics and 55% mountainhead, what a time to be barely alive.

From Office Magazine

#Everything Everything #Jonathan Higgs #Mountainhead #@J: a must read

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roobylavender · 1 year

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I was thinking about superhero comics and really it’s amazing how American they are. Like I have a friend from a different country who said that superhero comics aren’t big where she’s from and they don’t really sell them there. And I guess it was the first time where I really made to see like how hero comics are just an American thing which makes sense why justice is such a big theme in them when really it is mostly punishment. Somebody once told me that america doesn’t like sympathizing or understanding but loves to punish. It’s a country that like to punish and not help despite how progressive America likes to think it is. And I never saw it that way until I started paying more attention to both like cancel culture and just the justice system and how true it is.

i mean the big two have their origins in jewish immigrants' response to nazi fascism, so it was very much borne out of what it felt like to be american in the sense that that identity was analogized to freedom compared to what the nazis represented. but obv we both know america has never truly been a radical state and despite eventually aligning itself against the nazis its entry into wwii was delayed and purposefully so bc it wasn't until there was a threat to america directly that joining the war effort mattered much to the government. so what comics ultimately represented was something immediately reactionary but not necessarily stable i think. and i don't think you can solely blame the creators of cape comics for that bc i mean who wouldn't produce art reflective of their immediate circumstances. but it does go to show how insulated the industry has been over time that it's never strayed far from the status quo of america vs the rest of the world, rather than truly rooting itself in any consistent idea of freedom and justice. the inextricable nature of american identity to cape comics is precisely its downfall bc it can rarely consider any worldview beyond that

#outbox

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diverse-hearts-ocs · 2 years

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Spoiler Warnings for the 3.X Archon Quests and the Aranara Quest Line ~

Unpopular theory time ~ I do not believe that Nahida and Ilana (My take on the Greater Lord Rukkhadevata) are the same person, and this will be reflected in how I write them both going forward. This is a theory that is still a work in progress given that I have not yet finished ALL quests in Sumeru and that 3.3 will no doubt give us more information. Please also note that I DO NOT look at leaks concerning storylines and do not wish to be spoiled on such. I look only at character leaks for the reasoning that I’m the type of person that enjoys a good story playing out before me, so please DO NOT comment with spoilers that is information that has yet to be released. The rest will be placed under a read more so you can avoid spoilers and cause of my rambling.

Let’s address the elephant in the room - the last cutscene that plays about the Scarlet King and Rukka’s sacrifice, shows AND states that the Greater Lord became the form of a small child. Which I believe to be true - but I do not believe that form was Nahida. The incident with the scarlet king happened BEFORE the calamity that was to do with Khaenri’ah and we know that she was thought to have died only five hundred years ago, while the Scarlet King sacrificed himself around one thousand years to one thousand five hundread years ago (around the end of the archon war I believe?) ago. Therefore, although Ilana spent all her strength and fell back into the form of a child, this was at a different time from the great calamity that would claim her life and therefore before Nahida was ‘born’.

This suggests that the Greater Lord was a small child form, for at least part of the time in which she ruled over Sumeru....which could also explain as to why the Statues of the Seven are of a small child, after all, why would there be statues of an Archon that the people barely acknowledge? The Statues are of Iiana - but of the Child form that is the most recent form for her to have taken prior to the fall of Khaenri’ah - and we can assume, from the book The Folio of the Foliage, that she later becomes part of the Irminsul - which I believe is when Nahida was then ‘born’.

“She stepped alone to that emptied earthly heart and softly touched its timeless face, becoming the immortal Gaokerena and the earth itself. Every thread of spiritual knowledge and every sweet-smelling plant is her undying will.”

Also - the words that are spoken whenever one comes into contact with Irminsul - World Forget Me - I believe these are spoken from Ilana and that they are a clue in how to cure the world from the blight that is the withering and eleazar, the blight can only be gone once she has been truly replaced. And this is why Nahida is the ‘moon’ and linked to deception and illusions. For the world to truly heal, she needs to fully take over as the Dendro Archon, to replace even the memories and legacy that once belonged to Iiana, for only then can her people move on, only then can the forbidden knowledge be wiped, for Nahida has no knowledge of which to cause another blight. Honestly, I wonder if Iiana is as old or even older than Morax. ALSO - I don’t think Zhongli, Venti and Ei would all be, the Dendro Archon is only 500 years old, if they were the same person? I know that’s clasping at straws a little, but they seem to be much more knowledgeable about ‘divine things’ than they let on. If Nahida was the original archon but in a smaller form with no memories, I think at least Zhongli and Venti would acknowledge this in some way. Further clasping at straws, is the way in which the Aranara refer to Iilana as Queen Aranyani and state - In order to heal the world, Queen Aranyani went to a place far, far away. However, she did not return. Perhaps she turned into a tree to bear fruit that can heal the world.

Anyways, as I said, a theory in progress - I have more to rant about but this has been something that has been driving me slowly insane since I saw that cut scene and I needed to get it out my system LOL

#Head Cannon(Ilana)#//I guess it kinda is... watch 3.3 just kill this though lol #//But just *waves hands in a frantic manner* theres SOMETHING that just doesn't match up okay >_<#tw: genshin impact spoilers #tw: spoilers #//Special thanks to Kiki to listening to me for the last like two hours

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straydog733 · 2 years

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Watching Resolution: Spoiler Alert (2022)

5. A film based on a true story: Spoiler Alert (2022)

List Progress: 1/12

Terminal illness stories are a genre unto themselves, one that tends to be fairly polarizing among audiences. What some will find saccharine, others will find deeply touching. What some will find repetitive, others will find universal. Spoiler Alert, the 2022 film adaptation of Michael Ausiello’s 2017 memoir, Spoiler Alert: The Hero Dies, will not change anyone’s mind about terminal illness stories, but it does add nuance and heart and a personal touch that can be missing in these stories. For anyone in the mood for a good cathartic cry, Spoiler Alert will do it.

Spoiler Alert tells the story of television journalist Michael Ausiello’s fourteen year relationship with his partner Kit Cowan, before Cowan died of neuroendocrine cancer in 2015. Ausiello (played here by Jim Parsons) lost both parents at a young age, and contextualizes events in his life through the lens of the tv shows he used to watch with his mother. Looking back at his childhood, he imagines a laugh track as they exist on the set of a sitcom, and he reflects how much easier losing Kit would be if they existed in the sweeping drama of a soap opera, not in the messy realities of life. This theme isn’t pushed quite far enough, as those two examples are the only ones, with some subplots never touching on it, but it does add some good structure to the film, with Ausiello as a narrator commenting on his relationship with television.

The part of the film that feels like it breaks the most expectations of the genre is in Ausiello and Cowan’s relationship status. While the audience sees their meeting and the blossoming of their romance, the movie then skips forward thirteen years. They have built up resentment and anger over the years, and by the time Cowan is diagnosed, they are taking a therapist-recommended break and living apart. Neither of them are angels, and their problems do not go away when Cowan gets sick, though they do become much smaller in the face of the disaster. It feels so much more real than a lot of these stories, where the ill loved one seems too pure for this sinful earth.

The inclusion of Cowan’s parents doesn’t work quite as well; while they were probably important figures in both Ausiello and Cowan’s lives, they do not offer much dramatic potential for how much screen time they have. After an early coming-out scene, they do not have many real conflicts with either of the men, and it’s unclear if the Cowans ever know that their son and his partner are partially-separated when the health crisis strikes. Combined with Sally Fields chewing a lot of the scenery as Kit’s mother, and their scenes don’t resonate as much as the central couple does.

Spoiler Alert is a well-crafted tearjerker, with just enough unique nuances to make it stand out among its tearjerking peers. The film does not pretend to be anything other than a cancer story, down to the title giving away the inevitable ending, but for those interested in engaging, it achieves its goals well and wrenches all the right guts.

Would I Recommend It: A tear-stained “yes”.

#straydog's watching resolution #spoiler alert movie #spoiler alert 2022 #michael ausiello

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lizzygrantarchives · 2 years

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Rolling Stone UK, March 9, 2023

After a decade of feeling unexcited after the critical response to her debut album Born to Die, the greatest American songwriter of the 21st century is finally inspired about her career and life again. Rolling Stone UK meets her in LA to discuss the “overculture”, romance and her new album, Did You know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd.

Lana Del Rey had not felt enthusiastic for more than a decade. Her career wasn’t animating her like it used to. Everything felt like an endurance test. This went on for a terribly long time, she says, but it’s over now. It ended three months ago, actually. She and her younger brother Charles, with whom she is highly energetically in tune, went to a mall in the Valley with their sister Caroline’s baby. It was a slow day of total serenity. They breezed through the aisles with their face masks on, invisible to people. After they pulled out of the parking area in separate vehicles, Charles called her and said, “Do you feel like something’s different?”

And Lana Del Rey took an emotional and metaphysical reading of her atmosphere and said, “That’s so funny. I really, really do.”

There was no obvious logic to why this change occurred. “That’s the funniest thing about life,” she tells me in her breathy Old Hollywood voice, sitting on an outdoor sofa in a backyard in Los Angeles. “You can pray and pray and pray to feel unburdened, but for no explanation for why and when, all of a sudden everything lifts.”

Del Rey’s persistent lack of excitement began with the scathing critical reception of her 2012 debut album, Born to Die. Despite its hit status with the public and immediate cult relevance to fans, the hip-hop-inspired orchestral pop album was initially mis-assessed by music journalists and bloggers. Her detractors said she was a hack, a fraud, a rich kid whose entire identity was a construct of a major label and her management. Last-minute changes to the album’s production altered it drastically, which didn’t help in framing who she was. “I was like: ‘This sounds really, really different now. Ballads sound like pop bangers.’ For that reason, instead of being assessed as a more left, thought-based, diaristic or whatever artist, it was assessed on a regular level, which was challenging,” Del Rey recalls. “Having such a heavy critique makes it harder to progress in a cheerful way.”

Her ideas were before their time and heralded a new era of alt-pop where Lorde, Halsey, Sky Ferreira and the next generation’s biggest pop star, Billie Eilish, emerged young, moody and sad. Maybe if some people her own age — Del Rey was then 27 years old — had reviewed and written about her, it might have been different, she thinks. That’s not to say that some critics couldn’t recognise her distinct star power. In an article in the Guardian — one of many that circled the unimportant question of her ‘authenticity’ — a pop-culture magazine editor defended her, saying, “I think she cares about the art that she is creating. I don’t think that’s fake at all,” and adding that, “Lana Del Rey can go anywhere she wants to go. She’s going to one day be the cover of Rolling Stone.”

The year of the album’s release, Del Rey left New York, the state she grew up in, for LA to escape the media and people on the street who treated her with visceral negativity. Experiences and encounters throughout her mid-twenties to mid-thirties further compounded the feeling that the world was not reflecting how she felt about herself. “It was like being in upside-down land,” she remembers. The driving impulse behind her work was no longer self-expression, which was true of that debut and, to a dwindling degree, her follow-up, 2014’s melancholic, stripped-back Ultraviolence. “It was not about anything other than surviving and trying to add a little bit of glamour and explanation of how I planned to get through some of the stuff I was singing about,” she says. In the case of Ultraviolence, that was contemptuous romance, being the ‘other woman’, isolation and loss. Later, it would be co-dependency, passivity in relationships, fame and her complicated connections to men, her mother and America.

As Del Rey explains how she regained her former lust for life, she wonders in real time if the way we currently relate to each other more positively around mental health and trauma could have contributed. “It’s almost like no one can do any wrong, unless you’re Kanye talking about Nazis, which is, you know, a problem. But other than that, you can kind of be like, ‘Well, when I was ten, a tree fell and ever since then I haven’t felt that I could walk to the store…’. Everyone has these nuanced but specific stories that are so universal to people, and I think the culture shifting and softening had something to do with it, without me knowing about it.”

It’s a good thing because Del Rey was really wondering, ‘Where’s the regeneration period?’ Finally, she beams, after 11 years she is excited again.

Meeting Lana Del Rey in person is strange given the degree of iconography around her. She’s not in monochrome or sepia tones, nor is she wearing one of her favoured white dresses complete with palpable A-list aura. Instead, you have the uncanny sense of experiencing a deceptively understated human being like a David Lynch or Joan Didion or Patti Smith: an artist who either created a world, documented the world or really lived in the world. If you’re Del Rey, you simultaneously and prolifically do all three.

It’s mid-afternoon a few days before Valentine’s Day. I’m in the garden of a modern West Hollywood home seemingly made of stone, glass and pure light. Del Rey is exactly as any fan obsessed with her everyday paparazzi photos would hope. When she steps out through the patio doors for our interview, she’s dressed in a white V-neck, brown zip-up hoodie and yoga pants, bare-faced except for light kohl and eyelash extensions and with her long brunette hair down like a gorgeous off-duty soccer mom. She juggles a red vape, the keys to her truck, a venti Starbucks cup and an iPhone she smashed on the way here. In short, this is the most normal genius you’ve ever seen.

Del Rey moves as she speaks, with the mannerisms of a 50s luminary transported to a world of Brandy Melville, Sephora and Instagram. Her answers to questions are elusive and seem to curl and drift away like a wisp of smoke, which only underlines the fact that we don’t know much about her. She’s funny in the unsanitised and undecipherable ways your favourite creative friend would be if they were famous, like when she tweeted Azealia Banks, the rapper who started a feud with her: “U know the addy. Pull up anytime.” Or when she did an Instagram live from a Denny’s restaurant with her then-boyfriend as he gave presidential election updates to her and her fans. Or, if the rumours are to be believed, when she paid for a billboard to promote her upcoming album in an ex’s hometown — and only that town. Her casualness is at unambiguous odds with her image in photoshoots and music videos — the coiffed brunette housewife meets movie star — because she’s predominantly a songwriter and, since the release of 2019’s ambitious state-of-the-nation folk-pop album Norman Fucking Rockwell!, widely considered one of the best currently working today.

Daily life for Del Rey is just as basic and uncomplicated. Her friend and the producer of some of her most recent and best work, Jack Antonoff, is a constant witness to this. “Lana is in her truck at a gas station in LA, thinking and writing some lyrics, FaceTiming me, going to visit her friend, going to a different gas station, just sitting in the parking lot in her truck and thinking. It’s not a ‘bit’, that’s not a character,” he says. “People often don’t understand this about her, because so many people are playing characters these days. She’s just a wild soul.” As she said in an interview with Billboard a few years ago, when the muse takes her, she’s writing, but when it leaves her alone, she’s just in Starbucks, talking shit with her friends.

The mystical ordinariness of Lana Del Rey has been heightened by the fact that she decided to escape the “overculture” sometime in 2021. That year she announced she would be leaving Instagram to focus on her creative projects. She continued to use a private Instagram account, where she posts to the two million fans who didn’t miss the brief periods it was made public and accessible. The idea of an overculture — as coined by psychoanalyst Clarissa Pinkola Estés to mean the dominant culture we try to navigate without being over-assimilated into, thereby losing our unusual talents — was presented to Del Rey by her psychic Tessa Dipietro, who she sees weekly every Thursday. “I was talking to Tessa about feeling that there just wasn’t really a place for me to land, physically and psyche-wise,” she says. “I think if you’re a singer and people’s opinions of the work change so many times, you kind of realise: OK, there’s something to be learned from what you hear. At the same time, I’m definitely not one who thrives from outside validation, other than from a few people. It was very important to me to not have any influence from the outside culture that didn’t resonate with me. I always knew that I was going to do something else as well, aside from singing. To be more connected to what that path was going to be, I just needed to tune in more to my gut.”

By retreating, she believes she has begun to see the culture more clearly. Her albums have followed suit, increasingly humorous and observational in their commentary. Meanwhile, regardless of genre, her sound has distilled into something that is pure Lana: classic and glamorous with her trademark airy, theatrical vocals. She found a fellow partially off-grid companion in Antonoff. “Jack Antonoff and I are super similar in the way we know about so much that’s going on culturally, but we have no idea how. We definitely don’t read that much about it or hear that much about it, but all of those turning points in culture, somehow we’re always aware,” she explains. Often, she and Antonoff will sit together in the studio and discuss what they’re doing to try to survive the negative waves of trends in tech, self-promotion, music and society. “I think even if I was in a remote area, I would always know what’s going on and I’ve always had a little bit of an intuitive finger on the pulse of culture,” she continues. “Even when I started singing, I knew it wouldn’t completely jive right away.”

A spiritual instinct is ever-present in Del Rey, the person. As soon as she sits down, we’re laughing about astrology and the time she tweeted her birth time and everyone realised — along with her — that she’s a Cancer, not a Gemini. “Once I had a thousand dollars, I bought this beautiful Gemini medallion which is no longer relevant to me,” she hoots, clapping her hands together. She’s so impressed with her regular psychic that every time someone tells her that she must be proud of her music, she thinks, “‘You should see what these people in the wellness community can do’ — especially in LA, it’s the mecca.” Singing is a talent too, but psychic abilities to her are magic. “It’s so validating when I meet someone like that because it’s very affirmative that there’s so much more going on.”

This fascination with the otherworldly began when she was young growing up in Lake Placid, New York. “I had fun playing sports and meeting new friends, but I was concerned about why there were no television shows or talks from people and parents about where they thought we came from and why they thought we were here. It deeply troubled me from the age of four,” she remembers. “So, my parents did have their hands full with a lot of esoteric questions. I think that’s just a predisposition.” Attending a Catholic elementary school only encouraged this search for knowledge, as did her philosophy class at age 15. In the mid-00s, she went to Fordham University in the Bronx to study for a degree in philosophy with a specialism in metaphysics. “I tried to get as many questions answered in four years as I could,” she says, sagely. “And then I was taught that philosophy was a study of questions, not answers. There were no answers, which almost made things worse.”

Plenty of girls who were drawn to the idea of being looked after by a divine plan grow up to become women who exist with the exclusive purpose of knowing an all-encompassing romantic love. An impassioned relationship offers escape from the greyscale existence of living out the complicated family dynamics they typically grew up with. Del Rey announced herself as one of these women with her first artistic statement: “They say that the world was built for two / Only worth living if somebody is loving you.”

That first single ‘Video Games’ captivated restless listeners with its repeated, self-abandoning call of “It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you”. Of that sentiment Del Rey can only say, “We were in a town of 600 for most of my life, so that seemed like what the trajectory was: school, junior college, trade school… get married?”

If you made a Venn diagram of people who narrativise their pain to survive and those who make a man the protagonist of their lives and encourage his self-mythologising, you’d find Lana Del Rey acolytes in the intersection. For obvious reasons, young women and gay men were largely possessed by the dark star of Americana when she debuted. Her early music synthesised the all-consuming concerns of my late teens and early twenties: seeking out money and nurturing from men, the ways in which sex (and the withholding of sex) was weaponised and how I resented and desired that, the exhausting and obsessive project of love that could be so easily dismissed by an idiot playing video games. In the female empowerment era of the 2010s, Del Rey represented the pleasure and fun of being a woman but also the indignity of being one when you believe romantic love will solve any material or emotional problem.

When I mention this adoring cohort of fans from the Born to Die era, Del Rey responds with a breathy gasp: “I thought it was going to be for the boys! But again, it’s funny how it turned out to be the opposite. What an amazing lesson to foray into your people: The Girls.” Her eyes widen conspiratorially. “Love the girls. Girl’s girl. How awesome is that? But no, I definitely wrote Born to Die for the boys.” A big laugh from Del Rey at how ironic this is. “I mean, if you listen to it, it’s kind of…” This impression of herself she does almost inaudibly: “Pick me! Listen to me!”

From Ultraviolence onwards, male and female critics accused Del Rey of glamourising abusive relationships. Meanwhile, other women — including Del Rey and her fans — were living out those common painful or toxic relationships. “The one thing I’ve never been spared from is having these normal, somewhat contentious relationships,” explains Del Rey, punctuating thoughts with raised eyebrows or a pointed tone. “It’s not like if you become a singer, when you date people, they feel like they have to be nice to you because if they’re not, maybe they’d be called out. That never happens. They’re still themselves completely. And I think that’s why some people might call some of my stuff polarising, because either you’ve been in a contentious family dynamic or interpersonal relationships, or you haven’t. So, if you haven’t you might use the words or phrases I’ve heard like ‘feigning fragility’, or ‘glorifying being submissive’. OK. Maybe it’s also just trying to see the light at the end of the tunnel?” To bring these narratives into a musical context and make them sonically depressing or the accompanying visuals unappealing wouldn’t work for Del Rey. “You’re writing what happened but you’re also trying to lift it up a little bit, maybe melodically in the chorus,” she says.

If emotionally abusive relationships are all you’ve ever known, there are relational lessons that have to be completed to proceed to healthier dynamics. That’s probably why Del Rey’s songs are increasingly self-possessed and full of humour about these relationships (“God damn, man child,” she practically winks to us as she opens ‘Norman Fucking Rockwell!’). Often these lessons come directly from specific people, Del Rey says, referring to a relationship with one particular man: “The lesson was so shocking and it didn’t even really take the sting out of it. But I realised only that person with that particular look and stature and cheerful disposition that people considered him to have — that almost made me look like I wasn’t the positive one — only that kind of person could’ve brought me to my knees in the way that I needed to see what else I could add to my life to have a baseline foundation so that I could always come back to myself.”

In a poem from her first collection, Violet Bent Backwards Over the Grass, she describes desperately travelling to an AA meeting, knowing that she must leave her unpleasant relationship with a secretive man. She cries to the women and rehab teens while she tells her story. Del Rey ends ‘Thanks to the Locals’ with the lines: “I don’t have a pretty couplet to give resolution to this poem / nothing very eloquent to say / except that I was brave / and it would’ve been easier to stay”.

This was completely autobiographical and it’s amusing to Del Rey that no one knows she and this man were in an on-off relationship for years because they were never pictured together. “There’s also a lot of carnage that can come from being the partner to the person who is the funniest, sparkliest bar fly in the room,” she says of this relationship, laughing when she adds, “Now I’m like, ‘Get your sparkle away from me.’” She considers this person briefly, looking across to the swimming pool that takes up most of the backyard. “Everybody wants you…” Which is funny, she says, because you’d think as a singer that everyone would want her, pay her attention, not her partner. “That’s probably why I am interested in those kinds of people because it’s never about me in those cases, it’s always about them. And I love that because I don’t have to think about what people are thinking.”

The conversation moves towards our generation’s current inability to maintain a relationship. I ask if she thinks this is less because our ideals around marriage or commitment have changed and more because we’re conscious of ourselves and how we evolve which makes it harder to meet people and stay together for more than…

“…a year,” she says, finishing my sentence. “I never understood the saying ‘timing is everything’ but I get it now.” I suggest that you can torture yourself wondering if the timing had been right, you’d be together still. “That’s my whole thing. I’ve literally in the last couple of months left that whole question on the back burner. Because it would bother me.”

The metaphysical and the romantic are entwined in her mind. A recent relationship she had with someone entrenched in their own personal problems comes up and Del Rey describes the mysterious way the question of whether to go or to stay in a partnership can manifest change. “I was laying on the grass and I was so pleased with myself because I was committed to this idea that I was like, ‘It doesn’t really matter, things don’t have to be traditional or perfect, you love him, that’s fine,’” she recalls. “And as I committed, he came home and was like, ‘I can’t do this anymore.’ Tessa always says as soon as the person who is somewhat ambivalent tries to put two feet into the relationship, if it’s not right the universe has a way to sweep both people out immediately.”

So, when I ask why the overarching theme in her work is romantic love, the answer seems so obvious, as though we’re repeating ourselves. “Everybody finds themselves in a different way,” she replies. “Some people really find themselves through their work, some people find themselves through travelling. I think my basic mode is that I learn more about myself from being with people, and so when it comes to the romantic side of things, if you’re monogamous and it’s one person you’re with, you just put a lot of importance on that.” It’s different to her now, though, as part of this puzzling mood shift. Now in life and in writing she is orientated towards what’s happening day to day, “not being reactive to what appears to be the reality of the current circumstance and being as proactive as you can but letting everything go.”

If you had wondered why Del Rey released two albums in 2021, it’s because one was a reactive album. It was a final decision to respond directly to circumstance. The Chemtrails over the Country Club cover art was a black and white photograph of a group of women, including Del Rey, sitting around a table presumably at one of these clubs. Some commented that given the political climate around Black Lives Matter it wouldn’t hurt for her to feature Black women on her album artwork (the women on the cover art were Del Rey’s friends and some of them were women of colour). Immediately after being condemned for her response to that criticism, Del Rey decided to create and release more music about the accusations of cultural appropriation and previous claims that she glamourised domestic abuse. “I was just like, ‘Let me try and write an album that maybe could explain why, if that was true, let’s say, I could potentially identify with certain modes of operating,’” she says. “So, Blue Banisters was more of an explanatory album, more of a defensive album, which is why I didn’t promote it, period, at all. I didn’t want anyone to listen to it. I just wanted it to be there in case anyone was ever curious for any information.”

Del Rey’s music once had a cool distance. It felt like she was melancholically singing over your shoulder. Now, however, her lines are played straight to the camera and then knock the fourth wall aside entirely to speak to you directly. There’s a playfulness, freedom and an honesty about her immediate reality on her new album, Did You know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd. Tracks flow in a jazzlike trance; classic piano and acoustic songs blend into hip-hop, pop, gospel and choral numbers. Colloquial lyrics move as fast as a Beat writer’s poem: they seamlessly speak to a friend about culture, offer mundane updates on what’s going on in her daily life, present notes on dark relationships. But songs frequently, as Antonoff notes, come together with a “voice of God, some joy or hopefulness”.

Antonoff returns as a producer on multiple tracks. “You have a weird whiplash of not knowing what you’re supposed to feel,” says Antonoff of the second single, the horror folk meets internet rap track, ‘A&W’. “That sensation is across the album: you could dissect the tone of whether it’s hints of gospel or bringing back some of the 808s and the fucked-up side of things. But in the studio, it was just about finding what is shocking in the moment.”

The tunnel under Ocean Boulevard is a real place. In LA’s downtown Long Beach, the abandoned Jergins Tunnel will still gleam if you cast a light on its white, sand and caramel-coloured tiles and beige mosaics on the floor. People walk above today not knowing what lies beneath. In the late 60s, it was sealed off and closed to the public, but once upon a time it was a subway for holidaymakers to access the beach. Cotton candy and souvenir vendors lined those walls. Not to be too literal, Del Rey says of Did You know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd, but “would it be a worrisome concept to be boxed out and sealed up with all these beautiful things inside with no one able to gain access except maybe family?”

It’s a revealing query that shows Del Rey’s sensitivity around how she’s perceived and understood has softened but remains an enigmatic concern. “That was a question I had because that’s a very plausible thing that could happen with the music, with how pointed people’s perceptions of my music can be,” she explains further. “Would it probably, plausibly, get to the point where it became a body of work that made me a vessel that was sequestered to the point where only family would have access to the metaphorical tunnel?”

This album is a box of treasures of its own dedicated to family. You hear it in the constant reminders that this is what Del Rey calls a “name-out or call-out album”. She mentions her father, sister, brother, Caroline’s baby and all those loved ones around her to “keep them close in the music” because they’re with her every day. Some jokes and lines are drawn directly from conversations with her girlfriends, like on ‘Fishtail’ when a friend’s date promised he would come over to her house to braid her hair, but he never did. “If people think my music is good it’s because there’s other people involved in the songs and in the process of making it. So many people,” she says, with a smile at just how good it is.

On the title track and first single, Del Rey asks longingly, “When’s it gonna be my turn?” Though she says this refers to wondering when it’s her turn for anything to happen for her, the question of whether she will carry the family line on by being a mother and when (and whether marriage and love is included in that) appears multiple times across the album. As for maternal yearnings, she’ll only talk about the passage in The Bell Jar when Sylvia Plath’s protagonist considers the metaphorical tree of life choices that face a woman: marriage, children, career options and so on. I wanted each and every one of them, but choosing one meant losing all the rest, and, as I sat there, unable to decide, the figs began to wrinkle and go black, and, one by one, they plopped to the ground at my feet, Plath wrote.

“It’s giving fig tree,” says Del Rey. “It’s giving Sylvia Plath, so many figs and if I don’t pick one first, they’ll all wither away and then there will be no figs to choose from.”

There are questions of knowing and not knowing when it comes to love on the album. On a fairground-style meditation that wouldn’t feel out of place on a remake of Amélie (‘Paris, Texas’), Del Rey travels from Paris to Alabama barely needing to wonder about her failing relationship back home anymore: “When you know, you know / The more you know, it’s time to go”. Later, on the delightfully rom-com-esque ‘Margaret’, we learn that The One is not a myth. It was written for Antonoff’s fiancé Margaret Qualley as the kind of song that could hypothetically be played at their wedding. “So if you don’t know, don’t give up / Because you never know what the new day might bring,” Del Rey says brightly to anyone not as sure as Antonoff and Qualley. For those still searching for their person, there is always the devotional love that overarches the 77 minutes in the form of God, preacher’s lessons, and a warm and wistful spiritualism.

In the vein of including the loved ones around her, Del Rey’s ex-boyfriend, the cameraman and DP Mike Hermosa, also features as a producer on the album. If it weren’t for him the album would not exist. Every Sunday, Hermosa would play his guitar around Del Rey, who began to sneakily record him. On one occasion, she asked if she could sing along and out came ‘Did You know’ in full. “Music is like a little bird who is always right on my shoulder,” she says. “Even when I’m looking for respite someone always comes in and plays a little tune and I’m like, ‘Shit, it’s happening again.’”

From then, every available Sunday, they’d record a song on her phone. Five of those appear on the album. “When we broke up, I was like, ‘You know at some point we’re going to have to talk about the fact that you have half of this album. It will come out,’” she says. Thankfully, Hermosa heard the finished album and called her to tell her he loved it. “The water is warm out there to be a couple of different things, so he’s definitely warmed-up to it. He has to be, he’s on the album sleeve smoking a vape. He’s fucked!”

That Did You know that there’s a tunnel under Ocean Blvd feels once again so different from what she’s done before and yet a collage of everything she’s ever made — it even ends with the grimy, heavy, original and unheard version of ‘Venice Bitch’ — is testament to where Del Rey is nine studio albums into her career. “Lana is boundaryless,” says Antonoff. “She’s reached a point in her work, which is really my favourite place to work from, where there’s nowhere to go but way out into the fucking wilderness artistically. Go chase radio? That’d be so stupid. Go chase trends? So stupid. She created all the trends. It’s a freeing place, if you can accept it. The only place to go is to be a leader.” So, she sauntered ahead with the bird on her shoulder to create what was, according to her, the easiest album she’s ever made.

Do you know about telomeres? They’re the strange, hand-shaped nerve endings that shrink as you age. Experts think that within a decade we’ll be able to preserve them. During the creation of Did You know, Del Rey continued her research into telomeres and the concept of the extinction of death, wondering if she and her family will be all right, will they reach this ten-year mark? Something so freaky is naturally fascinating to Del Rey. “Why not have that be the focus: self-preservation. Just to stay around and see what happens, you know?” she says encouragingly, seeing my concerned expression. “It’s a good thing — or at least my dad has always said that it’s going to happen and he’s been waiting. He’s very in touch with the scientific revelations that have been happening throughout the past ten years, or more. But I keep seeing it now, there’s been two articles in the last two weeks.” Why not live forever!

She’s excited now, elegantly bulldozing away on a tangent. “No matter what happens from here on out, I already learned everything — I can tell — I’ve learned everything I need to know, I don’t need to experience anything else,” she says. “I’m just really happy that I pushed through all those turbulent times that were sometimes brought upon by myself and sometimes were suppressed onto me by other people and things to the point that I’m just so lucky that my heart isn’t fragmented all over the world, bits of it with other people who it doesn’t belong to, that my head is clear enough to not have my self-will run riot all the time.”

“And,” she says as a grin strikes her face, “to still enjoy the fucking fact that I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone. Are you kidding me?! To be able to enjoy that and also to know that it’s about the experience of it. To enjoy the fact, the fun literal fact, that you’re on the cover of Rolling Stone. The first time I was on the cover of US Rolling Stone, I couldn’t believe it but what’s more unbelievable is 11 years later to be on the cover of UK Rolling Stone. That’s unfathomable. I can’t actually even register it. It’s wild.” Later, she’ll pass through the patio doors into the open-plan kitchen and use her hands and upper body strength to spring off the table like a baby lamb, saying, “I’m on the cover of Rolling Stone!” It’s a jubilant surprise for anyone in the room who witnesses it.

The interview on the patio has essentially finished because we’ve segued into Lana Del Rey giving me advice on her specialist subject (men). We hunch over her iPhone to see a photo she took of a forgotten copy of William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and of Experience that she discovered when going through her old belongings. Years ago, Del Rey wrote something on the sleeve. “What a beautiful concept: to have a bottom line of what you will not do. I myself would love to be with someone who doesn’t believe in pressure and someone who ignites passion not just safely, someone whose look reminds me of why I love living, a person whose naturalness reminds me of my own and that beauty is to be enjoyed.”

We sit back on the garden furniture, and she gives me the patient look of an older sister imparting knowledge. Then she says, delicately and so off-handedly it’s coy, “I had a lot of ideas there.”

Originally published on rollingstone.co.uk with the headline Lana Del Rey: she does it for the girls.

#2023 #Did You Know That There's a Tunnel Under Ocean Blvd #Rolling Stone UK #Hannah Ewens

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cas-iopeia-blog · 1 year

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"Under The Rock Of Ages" 2021

An essay exploring the complex relationship one holds living in the south, inspired by "The Rock of Ages" by Joan Didion. (I wasn't out as queer at school, and I have long since left this school)

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REDACTED, 86 miles northeast from the nearest city, the epitome of slow summer days and slower people has never failed in its goal to be true to its roots. The church-rush on every Sunday in the local Cracker Barrel discusses the latest sermon, gossip, and federal policy with an undeniable pattern.“Have you heard that Heather is pregnant?” I was asked recently by a friend, who was shocked that I did not know Heather nor the date of her upcoming baby shower. With no connection to this elusive pregnant woman nor the other circulating gossip, REDACTED became an unrelatable, unachievable state of mind; I was born and raised in REDACTED, yet I felt like an outsider. The monotony and culture of the small town of REDACTED, which reflects both the people and ideas rooted there, illustrates the complex relationship between heritage and progress while challenging the validity of mundane life.

Since I was little, I have been surrounded by the importance of heritage. A boy, shorter than I was at thirteen, argued that the adhesion to traditions and religion trumped necessary things like common decency and what he referred to as “political correctness.” Although the argument against compassion lacked any strength, there is validity to the great weight that heritage has on a culture. In the south’s history, wealth and status built from plantations have formed the very foundation of southern tradition. Rooted in aristocratic slavery practices, southern hospitality governed many if not all small towns in the early American south but progress, while slow, has morphed these practices into a unique culture of generosity and loyalty. Nothing can beat a southern, middle-aged woman serving sweet tea in a funky glass cup on a particularly hot summer night; the south becomes a breath of fresh air when compared to an overstimulating northern city. One, however, cannot ignore the bigotry that the dedication to traditions of the south foster, for every glass of sweet tea, a confederate flag flies on a wrap-around porch. REDACTED personifies the culture that drives the spectrum of attitudes in small southern towns, walking the strict balance between refreshingly traditional and astonishingly ignorant, influencing generations of people developing in this unique environment.

There is a tradition that surrounds womanhood in REDACTED. I learned from a very little age the expectations of the small girls playing house with me, a reality that only grew as we aged. “He won’t pay for my college. I don’t think I can go.” My sister and her friend drove me to Sonic after school one day when I heard their complaints surrounding their applications to college. While I happily enjoyed my Oreo milkshake, blasting the air conditioning in the back of the car, her friend ranted: her father refused to pay for her college because she would “just marry… It would be a waste,” he argued (he had covered both her brothers’ educations). Although I did not understand then, as I grew up with my female classmates, the pressure of female idealization in the south rooted itself in the education of my classmates. A type of discrimination not so egregious as the numerous anti-abortion bills introduced into local legislation nor the removal of trans-women’s rights, yet hearing my classmate surrender her education to marrying and finding children because that was her only given option stoked a certain flame that continued through my teenage years. Womanhood, a personal journey that should never be dictated by others, is tainted by the influence of southern traditions; expectations for women in the south reflect the strained path of progress in REDACTED.

Like every other place, despite the south’s reluctance, the roads grow wider, the cities grow bigger, and the culture shifts. My parents scolded me once because I was too critical of my grandparents on my father’s side. “They were raised in a different time. You will understand when you’re older.” I understood what they meant but I could not help my annoyance. They lived through the progress, the time; yet, unlike my maternal grandmother, my grandparents complained when sitting next to a black person on a flight or when gay people were allowed to marry. Both sets of my grandparents grew up within a walk of each other in the same bustling city, with the same dusty hardware store where my parents worked in their teens. My father’s parents are like the majority of REDACTED, raised to spew the very same beliefs that their parents did. With hampered cultural change, discriminatory or simply outdated ideologies creep into each new generation. Social media has an acute effect on the blend of heritage and modern society in the younger generations; there is something about the repeating algorithms that tend to cater to one’s ideas. It magnifies the negative side of southern culture by highlighting the “best” parts of a user’s life: strings of photos of one’s Sunday best and your neighbor’s recent mission trip to Africa prettily headed with 1 Corinthians 15:58. This is not to argue against religious persons or media itself, but that toxic southern culture is perpetrated in younger generations through the polarization of social media, impeding the natural progress of other regions.

My sister, who experienced the same small town and had once reflected my aversion to southern culture, encouraged me to watch her favorite coming-of-age movie, Lady Bird, where an opinionated teenage girl struggles to feel connected to her hometown. In the end, Lady Bird was able to appreciate the small, outdated town she grew up in. Despite the gossip that followed each church sermon, despite the discrimination that hid in the local legislature, and despite the toxic southern culture of presenting your faith rather than living it, she fell in love. At the end of my sister’s last year in REDACTED, we drove through the town with fresh sweet tea in large cups, over an old bridge that could only hold the weight of passenger cars, and under the arching branches of southern red oak trees. Passing the rolling fields, I could only cry.

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If you made it this far, thank you for reading. ★彡

- cas

#queer #trans #personal essay #writing #art

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wildflowerdylan · 2 years

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WITH BENEFITS

PART SEVEN - PART EIGHT - PART NINE

Pairing: Stiles Stilinski x Reader

Warnings: 18+ Content, cursing

Concept: College can change a lot of things. Some of those things might even be the status of your friendship. At least, that’s what happened with Stiles and Y/N.

“What the fuck was that?” Stiles says, running into my apartment shortly after me. He has a smirk on his face. The silly boy was trying to lighten the mood, having no clue about what just happened.

“Go away, Stiles.” I groan angrily, leaving my face buried in my arms. Stiles finally catches onto what’s going on and comes over to me, wrapping his arms around me in a tight hug.

“Get off!” I shout, pushing him away aggressively. Stiles looks at my tear stained cheeks with a hurt expression. I ignore his eyes and move to look out the window I was sitting next to, wiping my face with my sleeve.

“Y/N/N, what’s going on?” I roll my eyes, looking at him with a smug expression. “Just go away. Go get the girl of your dreams.” Stiles furrows his eyebrows together in confusion. “What?” I feel myself progressively getting frustrated.

Frustrated at myself for hurting Lydia.

Frustrated that I fell for him when we said we wouldn’t.

Frustrated because he was going to pick her.

“Lydia! Go to Lydia!” Stiles looks at me blankly, not totally sure what was going on still. “She’s your dream girl isn’t she?” Stiles shrugs awkwardly. “Well, she likes you too. You both like each other. And, and we don’t like each other.” Stiles looks all over my face for a second, “We don’t?” I shake my head.

“That’s not true, Y/N.” I scoff bitterly at the boy, “Yes it is.” He shakes his head, looking down for a second and then moving closer to me. He bends on one knee and grabs my hand, “I like you and I think you like me, too.” I feel a few more tears roll down my cheek.

“Go to Lydia, Stiles.” What was I saying? “No, I’m gonna stay here. With you.” I push him off, “Go to Lydia.” Seriously, what the hell was I doing?

Stiles moves to grab both my arms and hold me again, but I don’t let him. “Y/N, please. Just let me hold you, you need it.” I scoff again, “I don’t need a hug and I especially don't need you.” He moves back, that hurt expression makes its way to his face again.

“Just go to Lydia, Stiles. Fall in love with her and leave me alone.” He shakes his head, still fighting for me for whatever reason.

“No." He shakes his head, trying to move closer to me again, "I want you and I know you want me to.” I shake my head, sniffling for a second, “No. I don’t” I pause. “I don’t like you Stiles. I-I hate you. I always have.” I speak through gritted teeth and tears. I think I’ve managed to hurt myself more than him somehow. And I don't even know why. Because I’m scared, maybe? I don't know what I have to be scared of though. If Lydia knew what was going on, what was really going on, she would step aside for me. Lydia isn't exactly known for holding onto a crush for a very long time anyways. And everyone would be ecstatic to hear that Stiles and I like each other, even if it is romantically... I mean, what am I doing?

Stiles moves to back away from me, having taken enough of an emotional beating for the day. He shakes his head and rubs his face. He was trying not to cry. I turn back towards the window, but I could still see his reflection.

I get out of my chair and face my body towards his. Stiles looks up from the ground to look me in the eyes. He steps closer to me, trying to pull me into a hug still. I, of course, stop him.

“Get out, Stiles.” He looks at me with the same hurt expression from before, “What?” I stand my ground, “Get out. Get out now.” He shakes his head, “Y/N, what’s going on?” I pull my chin up to stand tall and confident, “I don’t want to see you anymore. Get out.” He looks at me before the ground again, by now a small tear falling down his left cheek. He nods his head carefully before wiping his nose with his hand and walking out the door.

It has just gotten dark now, but Stiles was sure he couldn’t stay with me any longer today. He knew I was speaking out of anger and he knew I didn’t mean what I said. He’s a better human than I’ll ever be.

The boy shook his head thinking once more to our conversation before shoving his hands in his pockets and making his journey over to Scott and his’ apartment.

Just as he could see the building, something began rustling around near him. The boy stood frozen for a moment as he tried to address the situation. He was alone in the dark and human. So basically.. he was fucked.

Stiles took a deep breath as he calmly looked around at his surroundings. He saw where he thought he had heard the noises and then he saw a fairly thick stick close by his shoe. He looked around again before quickly grabbing the stick and holding it up like a baseball bat.

“Come at me!” The boy yelled, preparing himself for a potentially losing fight.

The creature took this as an opportunity and ran towards the boy briskly. Stiles swung the stick at the creature, wounding it just enough that he could run to the front door. The boy began pounding on the apartment door for Scott to come and let him.

Kira had answered the door quickly, rushing poor Stiles into the building while her and Scott went to temporarily take care of the danger.

When Scott got back to Stiles, he checked to see if his best friend was okay. Once Stiles has proven to Scott that he was perfectly fine, Scott was finally able to let himself get mad.

“She just kicked you out?” Stiles nodded. “When she knows the danger out there?” The boy nodded again. “Kicked you out!” Scott yells. Kira walks over to Stiles to be a bit more helpful that her wolf boyfriend. The girl urges the boy to walk off and cool down as she was pretty sure the only reason why he was so angry was because of his recent transformation.

“Are you okay?” Stiles nodded his head, “Physically, yes. Mentally, no.” Kira smiles shyly at the boy, urging him to continue. “Y/N/N said some pretty harsh things out of anger today. That hurt pretty bad, but I know I'll get over it..." He paused for a moment. "I-I’m scared that maybe she’s gonna convince herself she believes them.” Kira looks at the boy with slight confusion as she tries to piece this puzzle together. She's been given a lot of new information in a very short amount of time.

Kira takes a second to finish placing her pieces before catching a breath of air and speaking, “You guys weren’t just hooking up were you?“ Stiles shakes his head, “We were… at first.” He sighs, looking at his nervous hands.

“Now I think it-" He stops to sigh, not fully believing the words that are coming out of his mouth, "It might be something real.”

TAG LIST: @fandomhopped @taylorann2013 @malfoyscamander

#dylan obrien #dylan o'brien #dylan o'brien au #dylan obrien au #dylan o'brien x reader #dylan obrien x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader #stiles x you #stiles stilinski x reader #stiles stilinksi smut #stiles x reader #stiles fanfiction

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kseniyagreen · 3 years

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The drama Beyond Evil as a philosophical parable about human relationships.

The drama begins in the spirit of the classic detective story. A young policeman, Han Joo Won, arrives in the small provincial town of Manyang, the place where a murder took place 20 years ago and remains unsolved. Han Joo Won is talented, educated and has connections at the very top - his father is deputy chief commissioner of police. Han Joo Won is also full of enthusiasm, bordering on obsession, to solve a case that his father never solved. According to the laws of the genre, we have a limited number of suspects connected by a long history of relationships, keeping their own and other people's secrets. And the biggest secret seems to be Han Joo Won's partner, police officer Lee Dong Sik. Twenty years ago, he was arrested on suspicion of the murder of his sister, but released for lack of evidence.

The plot of Beyond Evil is well twisted, and a new intrigue is revealed behind each denouement. But at the same time, already in the first episodes, I felt that Beyond Evil could be more than just a good detective. And I was not wrong.

From the very first episodes, we plunge into the drama, like into a fabulous whirlpool. We get to know the life of a provincial town. We watch Lee Dong Sik intently, trying to figure out what is behind his extravagant behavior. Shin Ha Kyun in this role masterfully balances on the border of light and shadow, sober calculation and madness. In the meantime, we are wondering who he is - a "fallen angel" or a bright angel who fell from a height and broke his wings. We look into the faces of all the heroes, trying to determine which of them is the monster. And gradually we are imbued with the mesmerizing beauty of this world and its inhabitants.

At first, Han Joo Won was perceived as an outsider. "Young master" in an expensive suit, completely alien among the ordinary people of Manyang. And it's not just about social status. Han Joo Won chose this role for himself - an independent observer who looks from above at the ugliness of this world and does not touch the dirt. However, the further he progresses in his research, the more personal it becomes, and the mask of equanimity slips from his face. This is how a classic detective story turns into a psychological journey - to feelings and memories walled up in the basements of the soul, into a journey to someone else and to oneself. Because these two processes always go together - to find yourself, you need to see the other and be seen. Find your own reflection in the other person's eyes.

The drama Beyond Evil is a real maze of reflections. Each significant event, the history of each hero has its own reflection. Some of them are false, some of them are true, but all these fragments, put together, allow you to see the truth. There is such a method of image restoration - from several dull and even distorted reflections, you can recreate a real image. We recognize heroes by the way they are reflected in each other. And each new meeting, each new dialogue is another step towards finding a real face. This approach makes the image of each character multidimensional and deep.

The drama really captures all aspects of the relationship. Family relationships – healthy or toxic. Relations with oneself, relationships with the world, social relationships - the law and its implementation. Morality as the ability to contact. Breaking up relationships like disappearing. The attitude towards the deceased loved ones and the ways of dealing with loss, with death. Relationships are alive, supportive and healing. Relationships are codependent, burdensome and suffocating. Personality always lives in a relationship. Fencing off from the world, a person cuts off a part of himself and, ultimately, can completely die as a person. This is how a person turns into a monster.

“Everyone in the city is like one family,” says Han Joo Won of the residents of Manyang. And he is absolutely right. All heroes are connected to each other by a whole network of threads. But somewhere these are the supporting threads of life, and somewhere they are suffocating fetters. The family image is central to the drama. Everything begins with it - everything ends with it. For each of the heroes, this word means something different - a project, a burden, a duty, a dream of absolute happiness. But for everyone, it carries a lot of weight. Thus, a small town turns out to be a global metaphor for a community, a social family, in which our humanity is born, but sometimes dies. The density of connections and meanings in the drama is so great that not only each character, but the whole world of the drama is felt as something living, animated. The city of Manyang is not just a place of action, but an independent character. The whole city, as an integral living system, exists according to its own laws. The Beyond Evil story is the story of Manyang's illness and healing.

What's also great about the Beyond Evil is that there is no moralizing in it. Despite the great semantic load, the author does not reduce everything to one idea, does not teach, but shows reality in its complexity, even paradoxicality. Each character is a part of a big picture, an element of the inner life of an integral system. But also everyone is a separate unique person, with their own choice and responsibility for this choice. The story of the Beyond Evil is the story of Manyang, but it’s just as much the story of two people meeting. It is no coincidence that all the main scenes are "doubled". If you look at the titles of the episodes, you can see that the pairing is "sewn" into the very structure of the script. As if the whole story is a long dialogue between two, a series of questions and answers. Each character in the drama is interesting. Each has its own story, its own drama, its own unique personality. But the main axis of the whole story is the meeting and dialogue of the two main characters.

Lee Dong Sik and Han Joo Won, so different, but equally extraordinary, strong in spirit, but practically buried under the rubble of their own psychological trauma. Throughout the drama, they continually drift apart and collide, let go and catch each other, meeting again each time on a deeper level. They go a long way from mutual irritation, exploitation, projecting their fears and expectations onto each other, to true mutual understanding. Throughout the entire drama, the characters stare at each other - with suspicion, with rage, with interest, admiration, tenderness. But invariably - with intense attention, as if looking for something very important in each other's eyes. And in the end they find and return to each other the opportunity to be themselves - whole, feeling, alive. In my opinion, Beyond Evil, like no other drama, showed us an example of perfect human contact. At that difficultly attainable level, when you see and accept another as he is, in his true essence. The bromance of the main characters of the Beyond Evil is so beautiful that it overshadowed all the drama love lines for me. In fact, this is a "love story" - like the love of one soul for another soul. Someone sees them as a mentor and student. Someone sees them as father and son or even as a couple in love. In my opinion, we were specially shown these relations at such a level of generalization that each viewer is free to interpret them in his own way. For me, they are the embodiment of the idea of an existential meeting, beyond any categories.

The Beyond Evil is a theatrical chamber drama. But this simplicity of the means has a deep meaning. The real challenge for an artist is to show everyday reality as something magical, wonderful, and sometimes monstrous. And the Beyond Evil succeeded to create a heroic epic in the scenery of a small provincial town, where a butcher's shop, the basement of an old house or a reed field feel like a mystical place. Where dramatic battles and wonderful metamorphoses take place in the dialogues between the characters. Magic is created in the Beyond Evil, not taking away from reality, but immersing it in it. This is the fantasy world that really exists - in the space of the human psyche, in relationships between people.

This is a huge burden on the actors. They don't just need to play their characters, the actors pretty much create the world and atmosphere of the drama. And they also need to show the development and even the rebirth of their characters. Many characters in the drama wear masks. But in the end all the masks will be removed, ripped off or washed away by the rain. And under someone's mask we will find a monstrous grin, and under someone's - a beautiful face. Shin Ha Kyun and Yeo Jin Goo play characters whose faces change throughout the drama. In each new episode, they experience new trials, different emotions, but their eyes express not only situational emotions, but also profound personality changes. In some scenes, they need to act so subtly that it is like walking on a tightrope. A slightly different expression - and the impression would be wrong. But the actors are perfect in every shot.

The talent of all the participants has created an amazing artistic world. It's like the famous Doctor Who machine - more inside than outside. And you can dive into this depth over and over again, finding new nuances and meanings.

#jtbc beyond evil #beyond evil #shin ha kyun #yeo jin goo #Beyond Evil articles

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airplanned · 3 years

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All the Trashy Novels Part 30

This was fun, y’all. Thanks for humoring me!

Part 1...Part 29

***

She spent four days mostly standing in front of the Goddess statue, trying to glow without requiring something inappropriate to trigger it. She could now get it every single time with very minimal effort, but that effort was usually Link coming up behind her and placing a kiss where her neck met her shoulder, or trailing his fingers from the inside of her elbow to her wrist. And suddenly her skin was lit up like a camp fire, a fuzzy pleasure brushing over her like a thin blanket. It was embarrassing and frustrating, but at least she could trigger it without an orgasm and could hold her luminous state for long stretches once she got it going.

"That's true," Link agreed. He'd taken a seat on the ground with his arms resting on his bent knees. "You just need to work on not making that face."

Zelda huffed, her arms flopping to her sides and her glow spluttering out. "I'm trying!"

The problem was that now that she'd allowed herself to feel affection for Link, she always felt a little giddy and ridiculous when she did so. Apparently, this manifested not only in a divine luminescence, but also in a love-struck look on her face. Link referred to it as "bedroom eyes" when he was being polite, and "fuck me face" when he wasn't. He'd taken a bunch of pictures to show her, and he was (annoyingly) correct. She could not make that face in public.

"Maybe you'd look less sultry if you closed your eyes," he said.

"Then I wouldn't be able to see anything!"

"Can you use your Goddess powers to see things?"

"I can use my Goddess powers to glow! They don't do anything else!"

"Are they supposed to?"

"I don't know!"

"Try it."

She closed her eyes and tried it. She remembered the warm pressure in her chest and she remembered the heat of his breath on her skin and she thought about how he he'd made her a tiny little cake the night before and then blushed as she'd gushed over it. Those were things that she liked about him. Those were good things, and she felt a way about them.

The glow didn't light.

Why not? Those had made her feel things. She felt things. Things for Link. She took another breath and pushed into less appropriate territory, of the way he'd wrapped around her back the night before and let his hands wander until she was moaning with abandon and glowing, burning.

"You got it?" His hands came to rest on her hips, and her eyes popped open as she lit up.

Goddess, she hated that he could do that. She batted the thought away, and held tighter to her lust. Goddess, she liked his hands on her.

He looked taken aback, almost awed. Even though he was expecting it. Even though he'd seen it dozens of times now.

Part of why she needed to get her face under control was that it affected Link so.

He swallowed hard. "Close your eyes. Let's see if that...oh." His voice turned rough. "Oh, that's so much worse."

He pulled her in at the waist and kissed her desperately.

Link made himself scarce as she wrote up her field notes. She had very little to write. She'd made very little progress.

In frustration, she tossed her journal away. She would just have to have Link come touch her when he was done battling Ganon. Maybe he could magically poke her with his index finger as if she were the Sheikah slate. And they most likely would evacuate the area, so it wouldn't matter if she had on her come-hither face. Link would just have to deal with not making out with her for however long it took to seal the Calamity away. And who cared if she made a face? If making a face saved the world, no one would be allowed to say anything.

Except Zelda cared. She didn't want to look ridiculous, and she didn't want to rely on Link to access her own powers. She glared at her journal.

Where was Link anyway?

She stomped off to go glare at him. Or go have him be gentle and compassionate until she had too much trouble holding onto her irritation.

She found him before the Goddess statue, his head bowed, the sword drawn with its tip resting against the ground.

She frowned harder. "Are you praying?" she asked.

He startled and spun around. "Oh. Yeah. Um. You haven't been praying lately, so I've had to...pray by myself."

An old, familiar hurt settled over her. Of course he was on such good terms with the Goddess, when she was...she was...

She was working on her relationship with the Goddess. She understood that maybe it was all a big misunderstanding, but that didn't mean it didn't still hurt, and it didn't mean she wasn't still upset that she couldn't fully access her powers without the help of someone the Goddess liked.

Link looked nervous, as if he knew she was about to shout at him again. Guilt lanced at her stomach. She lowered her eyes and stepped near him.

"What do you pray for?" she asked quietly.

"Um. Nothing?"

She snorted. "You pray for me."

He didn't say anything, which confirmed it.

"Show me," she said. She turned him back to face the Goddess, and slipped her way into his arms, her back to his chest. She placed her hands over his as they planted the sword to the ground.

He held himself stiff with discomfort, but then relaxed his arms under hers and lowered his head. "Close your eyes," he murmured.

Well, this was her idea. She closed her eyes and lowered her head.

"I pray for you to have some guidance," he said. "Because you desperately want to please her, and you want to do it right, but all you have to go on are rumors and what you're ordered to do by people who don't know what they're doing either. I pray for some sign that you're on the right path. Not because I want to know, because I know you'll get there. But for you. You need assurance or your self-doubt eats at you, and there's no way that self-doubt will save Hyrule.

"And I pray for you to be happy. Because you're beautiful when you're sad and you're beautiful when you're angry, but I would die to see you smile. To hear you laugh. The way you carry yourself when you're at ease, the excited way you talk when you catch onto something new. That light in you could light the whole world. It could burn away the Calamity."

"You're a charmer," she murmured.

"You're a peach."

She snorted. "You don't pray like I do."

"Yeah?"

"I wouldn't tell the Goddess all that."

"Why not?"

Why not? "Because she already knows?"

"But maybe she wants to hear you say it."

"She wants me to wax poetic about a girl?" she teased.

"Wax poetic about what you love."

"Love is a strong word."

"And you're asking for a powerful weapon."

Her eyebrows furrowed. In a small voice she asked, "What should I pray for?"

He thought for a moment. "Why do you want to save Hyrule?"

"Because it's my--"

Duty.

She startled. The answer had rolled off her tongue.

Anxiety she couldn't name clawed at her chest. She shifted uncomfortably. Maybe standing like this had been a bad idea.

"She'd like to hear you say it."

Her breath shook. "I want to save my people. My friends. Urbosa and Revali and Mipha and Daruk. They're so devoted and encouraging. If they fell, then their people would suffer. All the brilliance of our people would falter, all compassion and the triumphs. The wonderful art and music and literature--"

"Even the bad literature."

"Especially the bad literature! And the bad music! All the ridiculous rumors, and the guards who devour those rumors, and all the fake girlfriends out there. We would lose all of that! And as shameful as it is, I would fight for those things."

"What else would you fighting for?"

"The Sheikah technology. You don't know the victory you feel when two pieces snap together. The thrill when a guardian lights blue under my hands. The way Robbie nods along when I ramble and then picks up my thoughts and runs with them, taking them somewhere new, and the I can pick them up again and run farther. The way Purah grabs my arm the moment I walk into the lab. The way she drags me to a diagram and asks my opinion. As if I'm wanted! As if I'm needed!"

The sword flared under her hands, a ringing note at the base of her skull, and her eyes flew open at the call for attention.

She was glowing. A warm pressure burned in her chest, and she grabbed hold of it to maintain it.

"What--"

"Things you care for," Link murmured.

She turned her head to look at him in surprise and confusion.

The corner of his mouth quirked. "You're not making the face."

"How long have I been glowing?"

"Since you declared your love for trashy novels."

"Love is a strong word."

He shook his head and laughed under his breath.

"But,” she said, “I need a strong weapon.”

His eyes darkened. “You’re making the face again.”

When she kissed him, it was bright and sharp as the sun.

#Zelda #My Fic #All the Trashy Novels

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secondhand-trash · 4 years

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Sun Shower

Kinktober 2020 — knotting

A/N: I need everyone to know that anything I write that has something to do with foxes is immediately self-indulgent, I cannot begin to describe you the joy I feel whenever I write about it

Pairing: kitsune!Miya Atsumu x f!reader

Description: Foxes, they mate for life.

Warning: feral foxtsumu, biting, oral (receiving), vaginal penetration, knotting, creampie, borderline cumflation but just putting it here to be safe

Word count: 4551

(more of the modern magic au here)

The sound of sizzling filled the small apartment you called home, the weak venting system of the old complex far too incompetent to truly stop the blended smell of oil from spreading everywhere.

You were laying on your couch that you bought from a second hand store when you moved in, one that could barely fit in the two of you if you sit any less properly. Atsumu had claimed that it would be alright, saying with his loopy accent that he could just turn back into a fox when you cuddle to save space. That, on its own was far too tempting of an offer to give up and so you used the money that you had saved from buying the couch that was technically a love seat to get high quality tuna sashimi to celebrate your first night in your new home.

It was a lie, he never did willingly turn into the cuddly fox like he said he would when you tried to get him to scooch over because his much larger frame was squishing against you, only pulling you above him in a position that defied human anatomy before dozing off to his nap again.

“You should know that foxes are deceitful creatures,” he mumbled in his sleep when you smacked his arm for him to loosen up his grip, “should have known better...”

Deceitful creatures indeed, who were infamous in folklores for casting illusions on innocent humans only to run away leaving nothing but echoes of laughter once their tricks were see through. Sometimes you would walk up to him and poke his chubby cheeks out of nowhere, replying with a smirk that you were checking if he would eventually show his true form when he winced.

You wondered if he had pulled any tricks to get you to be with him. You fell for him little by little with harmless bickering and occasional moments of sudden charm that had your heart beating faster. Even though you were groaning inwardly that you couldn’t believe you were swooning for Miya fucking Atsumu of all people when he was just deliberately pissing you off with his grinning face just moments earlier. But before you knew it, you had already gotten used to making space for him and his flicking tail that always accidentally hit you when he turned around.

You couldn’t say you were surprised when he brought you to the neighbourhood Inari temple that day, pulling you close to him by your wrist and confessed to you in a voice that he thought was incredibly swoon-worthy. You rolled your eyes when he tilted his head at you with a smirk that seemed out of place for what he just said, mostly because you could not believe this really was the guy you stayed up at night thinking about.

You could never forget how almost immediately after you returned his feelings. a droplet of water fell from the sky. You gasped when you felt the rain soaking into your shirt but was far too mesmerised by the way sun filtered through the rain and made it looks like threads of gold and silver appearing in the middle of a sunny day. Atsumu looked up at the sky and laughed, opening his palm to catch the rain while his other hand held you close to him.

“They say sun showers are the signal that the band to welcome the fox bride has set off,” he said, golden eyes glimmering brighter than the sun as he leaned down. His breath was warm against your lips when he spoke again before closing the gap, “the gods must be sending a message.”

Much later into your relationship after his perfect confession, you would learn that he seemed to be very friendly with the god that resided in the exact same temple he brought you to. If the god seemed to be casually good friends with your lover, who was to say that the “message from the gods” was not deliberately planned?

But trick or not, you could not forget the way he smiled when you told him that you also liked him with a grumble. Not one of his usual lop-sided grins or mocking lift of his lips, a real smile, the kind where his mouth could not be wider and he had to force them shut so he wouldn’t be showing his teeth. Nor could you forget the feeling of his tail that appeared out of nowhere curling over your leg when he held you close, the soft fuzz of his fur sending tingles all over your skin as if the feeling of his lips on yours was not enough to have you going haywire.

You could not say it was a scam when you fell for it willingly, that was what you believed.

Right now, the cunning fox was standing in front of the stove with one hand on his waist, his tail swaying side to side as he whistled a tune you had never heard of before. Sometimes, when you blinked, you would see the shadow of what seemed to be more tails swooshing around only for it to return to just that one brush when you focused again.

The number of tails a fox had was a sign of status and power, he had told you one time while he was forcing you to give him scratches with his head on your lap. The dart of red at the outer corner of his eyes furrowed when he scrunched his face up in comfort, whimpering in content as he moved his head around to make you scratch down on the right spot.

More often than so, his antics would make you forget that beyond grinning faces and smooth words, he was indeed a powerful youkai much unlike yourself. Until he would crouch down in front of you after an argument, turning leaves into all sorts of strange objects just to make you laugh even though you were determined to give him the cold shoulder. The soft glow on his skin when he curled up next to you on the bed after just coming down from his high making you admit that he did look whimsical at times.

Some foxes were the gods’ messengers, even though the same fox that might have been worshipped centuries ago was here singing off tune in your kitchen while cooking dinner.

Calling it “off tune” was a bit of a merciful statement, you sighed and stared at the ceiling as his singing got louder and louder. Standing up, you made sure your steps were light enough that even his superb hearing would not catch onto as you slowly made way to the kitchen. His tail was swaying like a gigantic paintbrush, and you held your hands out to focus on your target.

“Heh??????”

The chopsticks he was holding in hand dropped onto the frying pan with a clink as he felt the sudden grip on his tail. You could feel his fur standing up like a pompom under your hand, your lips curling up at his reaction as you continued to rub your face against the soft fleece.

“What, what, what are you doing?” he stuttered, his nostrils flailing when he felt a very untimely wave of heat rising in his core. Shivers run down his spine as you handsily toy with his tail, your nails scratching lightly at his skin beneath the coat as you ran your hands up and down.

“Nothing, just checking on your progress.”

Atsumu gulped at how nonchalant you sounded, your hands not once stopping. If you had peeled your eyes away from the floof that had taken up all your attention, you would see that his ears were twitching uncomfortably on his head. His shoulders tensed as he bit his lips, focusing on anything but how he could feel himself popping a boner if you don’t stop it with your hands anytime sooner.

His breathing halted to a paused when you put your chin on his shoulder, your hands still around his tail as you pressed up against his back. He could feel the softness of your chest through your thin shirt and it was not helping with how hypersensitive he was.

“The patty is starting to burn.”

“Huh?” he let out an incomprehensive string of curses when you let go of him with a light shove, his hands flailing to save the poor piece of meat that was crisping up under his lack of attention earlier.

He huffed, wincing at how long it would take him to get the burnt bits off the perfectly fine pan while thinking that he was definitely going to let his frustration be known later.

Atsumu leaped on you the moment you were about to pull your phone out to do some scrolling before bed.

“Tsumu, what is it?” you asked, letting your phone slide out of your palm as you stared flatly at the man that was pinning you down. He was smiling, like the scheming foxes straight out of a fable as he looked down at you. His pupils were squeezed into two thin lines, slicing his golden eyes into two halves. You could see the pattern like amber as he stared you down, the dart of black pulsating as he exhaled through his nose.

“You knew what you were doing.”

“Know what?” you asked again, this time slightly more amused than the last when the answer you were seeking for slowly appeared in your head. His ears were standing up on his head, the thin strand of fur at the very tip flicking as it twitched. His tail was swaying between his legs that trapped you under him, his position much like a predator that was ready to feast on his prey.

The chase was part of the fun too.

“You were railing me up,” each word fell off his lips with a short pause in between, his tone a special kind of sultry as he exaggerated the slight raise of his voice after the sentence.

Still laying flat with your face right below his, you glanced down at where a slight tent was poking against the material of his sweats.

Horny bastard.

“How did I rail you up?”

He snorted in bafflement, his head tilting like he could not believe what you just said as the wagging of his tail got wilder. “You know that my- hmph!”

You bite your lips to stop the chuckle from slipping past when he let out a choked whine the moment you hooked on leg over his waist and brushed the heel of your feet along his tail.

“Like this?” you said, widening your eyes to forge innocence when you could physically felt the fur on his tail standing up at the stimulation. His face was contorted, the nonchalant smile on his face replaced by a scrawl. You would not mistake the grumble from the back of his throat when your hand reached up to rub his pointy ears between your fingers, scratching your nails down on the soft fleece at the bottom as your feet not once stopped.

He glared at you, his eyebrows locking together in place when he felt the dull ache in his groins growing. His face was on fire, a flush dusting at the top of his cheek and threatening to spread everywhere else too.

“Or this?”

You were grinning ear to ear when you press your pelvis up against him with the help of your leg around his waist. What was only a small tent before was now a full on bulge and his tail stiffen under your foot at the pressure. His arms that were at both sides of your head was shuddering, his muscles flexing as you continued to blatantly feel him up.

One press of your heel on the base of his tail where the fur met with his hips was what made him snap. The animalistic growl that rumbled out from the back of his throat shaken you to the core when he latched on you, pinning you down by the shoulder with one hand while the other gripped onto your thigh that was still at the side of his waist. His lips were messy on you, forcing your mouth open with a bite on your bottom lip before his tongue dominated your senses. Muffled moans and breathy groans slipped out between heated kisses, his hand trailing down and groping anything he could get his hands on when you melted under his force and let him take the lead as he pleased.

You let out a breathy sigh when he released your lips and proceed down your neck, leaving trails of saliva as he went with the bites and sucks he left. His canines brushing against the sensitive skin had you whimpering, giving him the perfect opportunity to bite down. You yelped at the pain, your hand shooting up to find leverage in his hair as he licked at the sore spot he just clamped down on. The warmth of his spit left your skin tingling, the mark of his teeth still apparent to your senses with the dull ache that remained.

His hands clawed impatiently at the thin shirt that clad your body, slipping underneath immediately when you scurried to peel it off of you with a slight arch of your back in the brief removal of his weight on you. You arched against him when he took your nipple in his lips, licking and sucking on the sensitive bud that sent you into an overdrive of pain and pleasure. You moaned when you felt his bared teeth brushing against the perky tip, the air of the room feeling exceptionally chilly with the slight sheen that was left on your skin. His fingers replaced his lips when he moved to the other side, his hand kneading and fondling roughly with your breast while his tongue swirled around the other bud.

His hips were held up as he lost himself in the want to feel more, taste more of you. Out of the corner of your eyes that was threatening to shut tight in reflex, the vigorous flick of his tail was all you can see between your lashes. He looked like a wild animal waiting to pounce on his defenseless catch, the pointy tips of his nails hooking onto the band of your shorts before yanking down with a forceful pull. You arched yourself off the mattress while his lips trailed down from the valley of your breast to the center of your stomach. Nothing could stop you from whining out loud when he shamelessly shoved his nose against the thin cotton of your panties where a damped spot was starting to form, the loud inhale making you squirm underneath him and wanting to push him away in embarrassment.

“Tsumu, don’t-”

Your breath hitched when he cut you off with a snap of his head upwards at glare at you. The low growl that was gritted out from his bearing teeth had your knees weak, the sharp tip of his canines on show as he warned you from stopping him. The look in his eyes was dangerous, like he was about to tear you apart and it was shameful how it made your cunt clench around nothing.

You could still hear the purr from his throat when he dipped his head back down, his tongue poking out to lick a stripe up the crotch of your panties. He had your knees hooked on his shoulder, holding you in place as his tongue mapped out the print of your folds and making you threw your head back against the pillow. You bucked your hips forward, urging him to give you more and his ears twitched at your antics.

One finger hooked under the strip of fabric and you hissed when he shoved it to the side, revealing your pussy that was already coated with a thin shine. He did not waste a moment before latching onto your folds, his tongue that had always been anything but well-behaved parting your pussy and delving in. He groaned at the taste of your arousal, his tail tugging neatly to the side as he dug his fingers into the soft flesh of your thighs and pushing them back further.

He was lapping at you like he had been starved and you were the first meal he had, salvaging every inch of you as far as his tongue could reach and drowning in your scent. His hips were humping against the mattress, trying to relieve some of the ache in his pants that was fueled by the feeling of your skin right under his hands. Your voice came out as broken moans and pants as his tongue plunged in and out of you, the brief moments when he slipped his tongue out of you to catch a breath was when he smeared your juices coating his lips over your clit and sucking on the engorged nub.

Your panties were shoved to the side but the flimsy cotton was still too much of a constraint to the greedy fox and he let go of your legs with a displeased hiss before pulling it down until it was out of his way completely. He did not bother to fling it to the ground before scooping your knees up again, a high-pitched moan ripping from the back of your throat when he flicked his tongue furiously against your sopping folds, your toes pointing in pleasure with your panties still barely hanging on your ankle with how hasty he was at removing it from you just earlier. You felt your limbs numbing at the coil that tightened every time he growled between his teeth against your cunt, kicking your panties off of you before letting your eyelids fell from the white you were seeing in your vision. His name rolled off your lips in a cry when you cum around his mouth, his tongue rubbing against your walls encouragingly as he basked in the sweet sounds you were making.

The fox perked up from between your legs, his long tongue swiping across his lips to lick up your juices that was tinting across his face and strong jaws. His eyes were glinting when he rose up, ears pointing upwards as he took your quivering lips in his once again while his hands fumbled to pull down the band of his sweats. You whimpered into the kiss when you tasted yourself on him, his tail brushing against the side of your waist as the comb of fur swayed behind him now that he was bare. His cock was pressed against his lower stomach, the vein at the side pulsing and beads of pre-cum rolled down his length from the leaking tip. He held your legs up once again, the time pushing your knees all the way back until they were right against your chest.

He sucked in on your scent at the crook of your neck in satisfaction, loving how you were always smelt more euphoric after you were lost in bliss. Rubbing the side of his chin on your neck, you whined at the stretch pulling at the side of your thighs as he messily glided his cock across your folds that was dripping with the mixture of arousal and his spit.

Your soft moan overlapped with the feral grunt he let out when he pushed his tip inside of you with ease from the wetness, the stretch making your fingers dug into his back as he filled you up inch by inch.

Atsumu’s warm huffs of breath was moist against your neck, his nostrils flaring at how warm and tight you were around him. The first thrust set him loose as he focused on breaking you into pieces, each surge of his hips hilted deep inside you with how you were bent in half underneath him. Your brain was in a mush as his tip rubbed against your velvety walls, the vein at the underside of his cock creating extra friction and making your skin burn.

He was not shy with letting you know how much he was enjoying himself, grunting and growling in your ear as he jackhammered into with frigid snaps of his hips. His tail was stiff at his back, the fur on it spiking up as his stomach spasmed. His nails were almost painful on your thighs as he gripped onto you tightly, his broad frame completely towering over yours as he drilled inside of you in a force that felt like he was not going to stop until he shattered your bones.

“Tsu- tsumu!”

He groaned at the way you mewled out his name, your eyes struggling to stay open as a wall of mist glossed over your pupils that were blown out in wanton lust. Your hands clawed at his back for leverage before they found hold on his hair, a loud grunt falling off his trembling lips when your fingers scratched down on his ears.

His thrusts were short and fast, not bothering to bottom out of you completely before slamming back in. The position he had you in allowed him to plow as deep as he wanted, making your toes curl each time his tip slammed against the spongey spot in your lower stomach.

Your breath hitched when you felt the swell at the base of his cock starting to form, stretching your cunt out even more than he already did. He panted in your ear, nibbling at your collar and trailing his tongue along the marks that he had left as his primal desire started to kick in. You whimpered at the feeling of him filling and growing in you, your hands fisting his golden hair egging him on to keep slamming his hips down on you.

“So big...” you whimpered as his knot grew larger and larger, feeling like you were being pulled apart by the seams when he pushed the rounded base inside of you until it locked him in place. The burn from the stretch had you seeing stars and you felt the band in your core snapped when his thrusts turned into rigid humps from your cunt clenching down around the thick base of his girth. His chest was heaving as his breath got heavy, your legs pressed up against his shoulders as his brows twisted together.

Your head was thrown back but if you could look down and see your stomach, you could imagine the outline of his knot being visible even in your belly, pressing up against you and filling you up like nothing else.

The first time you experienced that, you jokingly told him that you could never try anything else after having a taste of getting your brains fucked out with his knot to which he replied with a humph that you should not even think for a second that he would give you the choice of having anything else.

That was a useless statement to make, because you were certain that no one could make you feel as good as he could.

Your pussy was fluttering around him from your high and the tension made him moan. His shoulders were tensed, shuddering as his cock pulsated inside of you. His jaw felt painful from how hard he was clenching it tight, his hands no doubt leaving bruises on your thighs with how hard he was gripping down on you.

A choked whine leaked out from his lips when he finally felt the pent up frustration in him coming out like a river. You whimpered at the warmth that rushed over you as he shot ropes and rope of cum in you, his body stiffening on top of you as he bit his lips from the pleasure that had his mind in blank with no thought other than how you were all wrapped up around him. The was a faint glow on his skin as his muscles clenched, the dart of red at the corner of his eyes like they were actual spurts of flames as he lost control of his power at a moment of vulnerability.

The specks of gold reminded you a lot of the sun shining through the droplets of rain on the day he told you that he was in love with you.

He held you there for a while, the fat load of his release making you felt like you were about to combust from how much he was cumming. The knot at the base of his cock slowly eased down, allowing him to give a few sloppy thrusts before pulling out of you. The last few spurts of his cum splattered across your lower stomach as he heaved, the sticky substance that filled you up gushing out with each flutter of your sensitive cunt. You felt used and worn out, the feeling of his fullness still lingering even though it was just his release mixed with your juices that stuffed you now.

“You,” you said with a pant as Atsumu flopped down on you in content, “are an animal.”

“Low blow...” he mumbled, his cheeks squished out as he laid on top of your chest. It was an amazement how fast he went from feral beast to this harmless looking baby that had his face buried between the soft mounds of your breasts. His tail was now swirling happily behind him, brushing against your legs in a steady rhythm. The softness did help to coax you down, and he grumbled in satisfaction when you put your hand on the back of his head and rubbed his ears gently.

“You better clean up the mess you make later.”

“You’re ruining the atmosphere," he complained with a pout, smiling a little at the snort you made. He pressed a light peck onto the center of your chest, nuzzling his face against you before looking up at you with his jaw leaning on you.

Fine, you would have to admit that Atsumu always looked cute when he was in his post-sex clingy form with his tail curling around your leg and ears flicking at the top of his head.

“You know,” his words sounded off with how he could barely move his lips. His eyes were squinted into two thin curls on his face that was tilted to the side, pressing his ear against you to hear the steady rhythm of the pounding of your heart, “foxes mate for life...”

You wanted to tell him that you do know, because he told you that every time he was feeling mushy. When he just woke up, when you two were in the bath together, when he was in your arms like he was now, he liked to remind you every now and then that he was ready to do all that with you for the rest of his life as long as it might be, like how he seemed genuinely overjoyed when the drops of rain fell from the sky as you told him that you loved him too.

So you stayed silent, and basked in the simple bliss of knowing that the universe had sent a message and it was that you made the right decision choosing each other.

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu smut #miya atsumu x reader #miya atsumu imagine #miya atsumu imagines #miya atsumu smut #kinktober 2020

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oceanbaby888 · 3 years

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IN LOVE WITH VENUS!!! (Part 2)

Note: While I am not a professional astrologer, I love studying astrology and its aspects. Please do not reword/repost/steal my work!! Thank you so much.

HELLO AGAIN!!!

I am back again to finish the Venus series. Today we will discuss Libra-Pisces Venus signs! Thank you all so much for the love on Part 1 and I hope you learned alot. I know it basic, but I love helping people learn. I'm so excited to discuss PART 2!!!

LIBRA VENUS:

Venus is in its domicile in this placement. A Libra Venus loves harmony. They love aesthetics. Personally, I have observed that Libra Venuses and other Libra placements love the color pink, but that is just a personal observation. A Libra Venus is a connoisseur in the arts as well. Being that Libra represents 7th house themes such as partnerships, a Libra Venus may feel best or better when they are in relationships or always socializing with other people. This is even more so if the Libra Venus is in said person's 7th house. Not saying that a Libra Venus can not live without a relationship, but partnerships make them feel really balanced and they always love taking care of their partners. Its beautiful. Anything creative a Libra Venus wants to pursue, they will definitely either want it to be a team effort or they will consult many opinions from others that they trust. They care about people and their thoughts, but remember Libra Venus, you got this!!

SCORPIO VENUS:

While Venus may be in its detriment here, that does not mean a Scorpio Venus can not love. Actually, these are some of the most passionate lovers ever. Love is also loyalty to them, so remember that next time you want to pursue things with a Scorpio Venus. They are not the types to just date around. Not saying it isn't possible for them to do so, but a Scorpio Venus wants depth in their relationships. Yet, knowing all relationships don't work out, Scorpio Venus, your Pluto-ruled Venus means that through every relationship you change for the better. These are also the type of artists that create after a significant transformation or period in their lives. A Scorpio Venus puts their all, at least emotionally, into their creative endeavors as art is not surface and a Scorpio Venus needs a way to translate their feelings. Some people may not understand a Pluto-ruled Venus way of expressing themselves, but who cares? Scorpio Venus never hold your true emotions back. You feel it, so create with it.

SAGITTARIUS VENUS:

I feel like this is such an interesting Venus sign. A Sagittarius Venus is open to love. They see love as an adventure and a learning opportunity. They love being with people and you may find a Sag Venus that has diverse partners. Being a Jupiter-ruled Venus, they are always learning from their partners as well, esp if they come from different backgrounds (cultural backgrounds, socioeconomic backgrounds, etc). It is so interesting. When it comes to their creativity, a Sagittarius Venus will use their creativity to teach! Teaching is a Jupiter-ruled theme, and its almost impossible for a Sagittarius Venus to create something and not hope that the world around them learns from it or is impacted. These people are fun-loving, carefree, and live their lives like tomorrow is not coming. Their relationships can also be a catalyst to understanding themselves on a more spiritual level.

CAPRICORN VENUS:

Having a Saturn-ruled Venus is not easy for a Capricorn Venus. Actually no Saturn placement is easy, but anyway a Capricorn Venus is the type to view love or partnerships more traditionally. These people may take on the viewpoints of how they saw their parents together or how their family views love. A Capricorn Venus is not super uptight like some may think, yet they are serious about what they want and don't want out of a relationship. It's not to be picky, but it is no point in wasting a Capricorn Venus' time if you are not going to be committed to the relationship as much as they will be. Being a Saturn-ruled Venus, these people may feel better dating someone older than them (reasonably older should I add). A Capricorn Venus likes creative endeavors that are closely related to what they want to do in their careers, or said endeavor can become their career. Capricorn represents 10th house themes such as career and public status, so a hobby isn't just a hobby, they know it can be a potential business if they really want to do it. A Capricorn Venus is more of a traditional individual when it comes to their values, but they know that their love and deep and reserved for the right individual.

AQUARIUS VENUS:

This Venus placement is not talked about much but we're gonna talk about it!!!! An Aquarius Venus does not view love as serious as Capricorn Venus deeming they are both traditionally ruled by Saturn. However, that does not mean an Aquarius Venus will just go off and date anyone. An Aquarius Venus does not view love as a box or maybe as traditionally as others may, but connection is their most important aspect. Being an air venus, Aquarius Venus connect with you based on the ideas you have and what your views are. If they don't like it, you won't get a text back lol. Which is why many may question an Aquarius Venus love choices, but just know that it is because they person they are with connects with them!! Especially in terms of ideas since Aquarius rules 11th house themes like ideas and goals. An Aquarius Venus may end up in relationships with people they were once close friends with as Aqua rules friendships and communities. In terms of their creativity, an Aquarius Venus may spend their time in tech, advocacy, or literally anything that just keeps them preoccupied mentally and they know can help them progress as an individual. They also love doing hobbies that include their friends, or they may just simply like being with their friends. Either way, connection is key with an Aquarius Venus.

PISCES VENUS:

Venus is exalted in the sign of Pisces!!! Exaltation means that the sign will exhibit the strongest qualities of said planet. So a Pisces Venus will exhibit Venusian qualities by 10x. A Pisces Venus is so creative in anything they want to do, and it touches people as this is a Neptunian ruled Venus and Neptune represents 12th house themes like the subconscious collective. When a Pisces Venus creates, it touches and heals others and people can not even explain why!!! This can also happen in their relationships. Love is a movie for a Pisces Venus. Love is boundless. Love is what makes a Pisces Venus go round. This is such a beautiful placement to have. Being with a Pisces Venus is so amazing because they will go above and beyond for their partners. Yet, being a Neptunian-ruled Venus, that can come at a cost. Pisces Venus make sure you and your partner are on one accord as Neptune does represent illusions and secrets. Not to scare you, but some people like to take advantage of your good energy and don't let them do that. You are too beautiful of a soul to let that happen.

THAT IS IT FOR THIS SERIES!!!! I HOPE YOU LEARNED ALOT ABOUT VENUS THROUGH THE SIGNS!! TUNE IN NEXT TIME FOR MY NEXT SERIES (idk yet), BUT IT WILL BE COMING OUT SOON!! LOVE YALL!!

-Claude

#venus in libra #venus in scorpio #venus in sagittarius #venus in capricorn #venus in aquarius #venus in pisces #astrology #astrology blog #astrology basics #spirituality #astro notes

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airis-paris14 · 3 years

Text

See You Again

A/N: Just something short I never posted. It probably sucks, but I thought I'd share anyway. WE OUTSIDE YALL. (Please be outside RESPONSIBLY. COVID is still a thing. Please get vaccinated and or wear a mask.) Love Y'all.

Masterlist

“My King,” Okoye called, handing T’Challa a bag he forgot. “Next week.”

“ I know Okoye. I promise I will be ready to leave.” Okoye nodded before reboarding the jet. The king watched before beginning the short walk up to his friend's front door.

He rang the doorbell before staring up at the building. It’d been years since he’d last been in this apartment. Freshman year of college to be exact. Anaya’s parents had invited him to spend Thanksgiving with them after finding him and their daughter studying together on a surprise visit to their daughter's dorm. They weren’t in the room, lucky for them, but it seemed that her parents were invested in a dream that wouldn’t come true. Not that either of them was ready to admit they couldn’t be together either. At least that early on.

So much has changed since then. They graduated. Got two Ph. Ds respectively and then moved on. Anaya became a celebrated fashion historian and critic, and T’Challa a king. Halfway across the world, they’d reconnected by chance in Paris and hadn’t let go since. Somewhere T’Challa had been holding on to a silly notion that maybe he and Anaya could give being together another go, but he knew it was a fruitless endeavor.

Same as his ringing of the doorbell had been. Worried, the king began knocking on the door. “Quit your racket! She’s not here!” An elderly woman crooned from her front porch. “Pardon?”

“She ain’t here! The baby called.” The woman chuckled to herself, “Ran outta here like a firecracker. Her two friends following close behind.”

“She was pregnant?”

“Don’t know how you missed it sonny, big as a blimp, carrying high though. My bets on a girl you know,” she paused to size up the young king. “And you must be that no good bastard baby’s father. Walking out on her like that you know I should-!”

“Ma’am, I promise you I am not him. As much as I wish I could have been,” the king mumbled the last part.

“Well then now’s your chance son. The real father ain’t here, and I hate to see that child grow up without a father figure. What’s keeping you from claiming that child?”

“A lot more than you’ll ever know..” T’Challa looked up, despair written across his face. The woman's gaze softened. “You’ll never know till you try. At least go and see her. I mean you came to her house. All dressed up with flowers and a bag of gifts. You must really care for her.”

“I do.”

“She’s at the university hospital.” The old woman instructed. “Thank you,” the king nodded. “Anything to see her happy, ever since her parents died she’s been sitting up in that house all alone. Make it right.”

Two hours and four phone calls later, T’Challa pulled up to the hospital in his hired car. The driver opened the back door of the SUV to allow the king and his baby present out into the air. He nodded at the driver before making his way up to the reception desk. “Hi, how may I help you?” The woman looked up from her computer. “You must be looking for our maternity ward. This your first?” She nodded at the gifts. “You could say that,” T’Challa chuckled.

“May I have your name and the patient’s?”

“T’Challa, and Anaya Johnson.”

“Great, Ms. Johnson is in room 408 in the maternity wing. Go down the hall, on the left, there will be an elevator. Take that up to the fourth floor, make a right and it should be the fourth door down. You can’t miss it.”

“Thank you,” the king smiled hoisting up the big teddy bear, careful not to crush the flowers and various other bags. “Would you like an escort Mr. T’Challa?”

“I believe I can handle this one,” The king insisted. “Very well, and congratulations.”

The king frowned. “Thank you.”

Four floors up, and three doors down, T’Challa finally stood outside of room 408. He took several steadying breaths before knocking. “Who is it? A familiar voice called. He heard footsteps on the other side of the door before it carefully creaked open.

“T’Challa?”

The king smiled in surprise. “Tella? Hi.”

“Hey, what are you doing here?” The brown skin woman beamed, opening up the door, her eyes widening slightly as she saw all of the gifts.”She said she hadn’t heard from you in months.”

“Yeah, I was on my way to visit Anaya and her neighbor told me she was here, having a baby.”

“Yeah, um come in. She and Jean went for a walk, the doctor said it would help with contractions.” Tella grabbed the bear from T’Challa and moved to set it in a corner, while he found space to set down his other gifts. “So how’ve you been? We used to get status updates from Anaya for you. Then you just vanished.”

“Well, there is a lot I haven’t told you all. Wakanda is a monarchy, and my father, and his father, and his father, and his mother, and her father, and his mother, and so on, have all ruled our country. Now it is my turn.”

“To rule?”

“To rule.” The king nodded. “So you vanished because you became king?”

“I vanished because there was a coup, an attempt on my life, which was almost successful. The coup sent my country into a civil war,” The king explained.

“T’Challa, this doesn’t even sound real,” Tella interrupted. “I mean, how is anyone supposed to believe you?”

“May I see your phone?” T’Challa stopped her.

“T’Challa,”

“Just let me prove it to you. I did not ghost Anaya by choice. I still want to be with her.”

“After all this time-”

“Please, I know it seems implausible, but let me show you,” the king reached out a hand.

“Fine T’Challa-” Tella handed over her phone. “Ask siri,” the king instructed.

“Seriously?” Tella frowned. “Just ask her.”

“Siri, who is the king of Wakanda?”

Her phone glowed before responding, “T’Challa Udaku was crowned King of Wakanda after the passing of his father last summer during a United Nations Assembly. I found this article online from the New York Times and several other sources.”

“T’challa if this is true, I mean since this is true, the prospects of you and Anaya getting together is now even more impossible. Why are you here?”

“Because she is my friend, and I love her. She is having a baby, and I will support her.”

“You are not its father!”

“Don’t you think I know that? Do you know how much it hurts me to know that I’m not? That I may never be the father of any of her children.”

“This isn’t about you T.”

“I know, but the child’s father is not here. I am. Even if he was, I still would be, because she is my friend too Tella.”

“I just do not want to see her hurt. Don’t give her false hope T’Challa.”

“On the contrary, I believe it is she who gives me false hope,” the king sighed. Tella pulled him in for a hug. “Just give it time, and who knows, you’re a king now aren’t you?”

“That I am,” T’Challa nodded as the room’s door squeaked open. A nurse helped Anaya back into the room and T'Challa couldn’t help the way his eyes widened at Anaya’s pregnant form. His heart erupted in butterflies, imagining if that had been his child. Tella slapping his arm startled him back to reality. Tella jerked her head towards where the nurse was trying to help Anaya and maneuver the IV stand back into the room with her. T’Challa hurried over to wrap an arm around Anaya’s waist and grab her other hand. The nurse smiled in thanks and surprise. No surprise could top Anaya’s expression. She gaped as T’Challa shot her a smile. “Long time no see,” The king teased as he helped her further into the room and onto her bed. A grimace stole her smile as another contraction hit.

“I’ll grab Dr.Ben and she’ll be right in to check on your progress, Ms. Johnson.” The middle-aged black woman smiled at the expecting mother. “Thank you,” Anaya smiled before turning back to her best friend. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise you, only to find out from your neighbor that you were in labor,” The king smiled.

“Mrs. Patterson told you where I was?”

“I guess so,” the king frowned. Anaya and Tella laughed. “What did you do to her? Mrs. Patterson doesn’t like anyone. Especially men.” Tella explained.

“She did almost try to beat me up when she thought I was your ‘bastard baby’s father’.” T’Challa told the two women who groaned. Anaya grimaced her way through a contraction and T’Challa stepped over and offered her his hand. The mother smiled at his touch and threaded her fingers through his as the contraction dissipated.

“I’m gonna go find Jean in the gift shop,” Tella excused herself, leaving T’Challa and Anaya alone. “What’s been going on with you King T’Challa,” Anaya teased as she tried to push herself into a seated position.

“Nothing much. The world of politics cooled off for a while and I wanted to apologize for being awol these past months.” T’Challa helped rearrange the pillows so she could sit up. “What about you soon to be umama?”

“Well, this has been my life pretty much, still don’t know how I’m going to manage working at museums and shows towing this one around.”

“Where’s the father?” T’Challa asked softly. A tear formed in Anaya’s eye, “He doesn’t want to be involved. We were drunk that night and you know…..”

“You don’t have to explain,” T’Challa squeezed her hand. “Thanks,” she murmured. “What are you having?” The king inquired, sweeping some box braids back over her shoulder. “I don’t know. I wanted to be surprised.”

“Your neighbor thinks it’s a girl,” T’Challa laughed. “She’s been telling me about me carrying high since it became visible I was pregnant.” Anaya laughed. “I guess we’ll find out today or tomorrow.” T’Challa chuckled. His face quickly fell as she slipped into another contraction. He tried to help her breathe the way he’d seen on television but ended up making her laugh. “You’re really bad at this,” Anaya reclined back onto her pillows rubbing her stomach absentmindedly. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” T’Challa smiled. “It’s two quick ones and long out. Not in out in out,” Anaya explained. “I’ll do better next time,” T’Challa promised.

“How long are you visiting, you don’t have to stay. It could be another day or so before I give birth.”

“I’m here for the week, until next Tuesday. And Anaya I want to stay. Besides, I can give Tells and Tonya-Jean a break to walk around.”

“Thanks,” the pregnant mother smiled. Her face contorted as another contraction washed over her. “There you go,” T’Challa soothed as she squeezed his hand. He helped her breathe through and eventually, she settled back. “At this rate, it’ll only be a couple of hours until they’re here with us,” the mom to be sighed. “Then I’ll be here as long as you’ll let me be here,” T’Challa kissed the back of her hand. Sweat had gathered on her forehead and he reached for something to dab it away. “I want you here as long as you can be, distract me.”

“Why? You are not enjoying the miracle of life.”

“Says the man not currently pushing a baby out of his body.”

“Fair enough,” he raised his unoccupied arm in surrender. “Tell me about Wakanda and being a king,” Anaya asked, groaning through another contraction.

“Well,” T’Challa started.

Eight hours later, the room was silent. Tonya and Tells had gone home to catch up on sleep. Anaya was sleeping off her exhaustion and the king of Wakanda sat rocking a sleeping baby girl. Well, she was sleeping. Sydney Iesha Johnson’s big brown eyes fluttered open and stared at the man holding her. She stretched out her tiny body and T’Challa’s heart soared at the feeling of her moving around in the swaddle.

“Hi pretty girl,” he whispered. “Hi,” he cooed, smiling as she yawned. “You are so beautiful, just like your mommy. She was the most beautiful girl in the world and now she’s tied with you.” He rocked the infant softly. “T’Challa?” Anaya croaked. “Hey,” the king stood up and walked the baby over to her mother. “She was fussy in the crib, and the nurse suggested I hold her, I hope you don’t mind,” he rambled. Anaya laid a hand on his arm and shook her head. “It’s fine. I love seeing you with her.

“You know I’m here for you right? Both of you now,” the king searched her eyes. “I know I’m not her father, and I’ll never try to be that for her, but she’s a part of you and that makes her important to me.”

Anaya teared up and nodded.

“I want you to move to Wakanda.”

Taglist: @almostpurelysmut @blackbypurpose @tchoking @sisterwifeudaku @wikiwakanda @royallyprincesslilly @90sinspiredgirl @thedelightfulone @autumn242 @purple-apricots @kumkaniudaku @queertrex @kaciidubs @halfrican-heat @skysynclair19 @dramaqueenamby @leahnicole1219 @kreolemami @mzbritt @derangedcupcake @chaneajoyyy @lalapalooza718 @ororowrites @leahnicole1219 @sarcastic-sunshines @sarahboseman @faatassbitch @lady-love-and-glitter-roses @cxnismajcr @tchallasbabymama

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inkmemes · 3 years

Text

ryan ross lyric sentence starters ↪ taken from various songs he’s written, lyrics he’s sung, & poetry he’s penned. trigger warnings for mentions of sex, cheating, drugs. alter as you see fit ♡

“so close …”

“i am composing a burlesque.”

“i'm all alone in an afterglow.”

“but we haven’t even met yet.”

“this war ain't gonna fix itself.”

“you can’t be lonely.”

“you're gonna have to dig your way out.”

“she was nowhere to be seen.”

“some people never change.”

“i know i broke your heart. mine is broken too.”

“i'm carving pumpkins.”

“i'm afraid that i may have faked it.”

“though you tried to cut me down it wasn’t deep enough.”

“this may call for a proper introduction.”

“i know it’s mad.”

“all the lights are on, but no one's home.”

“a year ago, i was dreaming of where i am now.”

“charm your way out.”

“we're all too small to talk to god.”

“you’re invited.”

“it's not so pleasant.”

“if you're going, then go.”

“i was suspicious and naive.”

“we're still so young, desperate for attention.”

“things have changed for me, and that's okay.”

“that's the spirit.”

“watch your mouth.”

“it started with a simple kiss.”

“don't you move.”

“what a wonderful caricature of intimacy.”

“we'll never go hungry.”

“praying for love in a lap dance and paying in naivety.”

“i lie in silence and feel like a fool.”

“grab your hat and fetch a camera.”

“your eyes are the size of the moon.”

“it's time for us to take a chance.”

“you should take this heart of mine.”

“how did i get here in the right from wrong?”

“i know it just doesn't feel like a night out.”

“it just made her more interesting.”

“she didn't even see me.”

“do you know what i mean?”

“i'm wrecking this evening already, and loving every minute of it.”

“i sure do make an easy target.”

“someone i love loves someone else.”

“don't bother waiting up.”

“don’t you go down.”

“you vanished when you'd gotten what you came here for.”

“would it be alright if we just sat and talked for a little while?”

"when did he get all confident?"

“you know it will always just be me.”

“i feel the same.”

“all my forgotten poems are a joke.”

“she'd wanna kiss you all the time.”

“i want a big celebration.”

“i'll ignore my heart and lie to the truth.”

“film the world before it happens.”

“that's just ridiculously odd.”

“it grows like fancy flowers.”

“he tried to save the calendar business.”

“i wonder if this was physical or if it could have been in my head.”

“i wouldn't be caught dead in this place.”

“you're pulling the trigger all wrong.”

“i saw you, i met you, i loved you.”

“so let me set you free.”

“i'm aware that you're scared of my heart, but it's here.”

“northern downpour sends its love.”

“you better put that pen to paper.”

“if you're gonna preach, for god sakes, preach with conviction.”

“haven't you heard that i'm the new cancer?”

“i know i broke your heart.”

“i am something velveteen.”

“we're locked inside.”

“just don't put your teeth on me.”

“when i’m good, i’m the baddest.”

“i’m up, looking for you now.”

“you can call me tonight.”

“it sure as hell ain't normal.”

“haven't you people ever heard of closing the goddamn door?!”

“we sure are in for a show tonight.”

“can't take the kid from the fight.”

“she's got me twisted in love.”

“i could've waited for the train to come.”

“you could love me if i knew how to lie.”

“if it were me, i'd write another song.”

“i fell from the heavens as a fetish.”

“i am renewed.”

“i hope that i've still got your help.”

“take a look at what you got me into.”

“we should feed our jewelry to the sea.”

“who could ask for any more?”

“i'm pouring out my heart for paper.”

“i need to leave you but i never will.”

“i forgot how to call you.”

“just stay where i can see you.”

“it's the greatest thing that's yet to have happened.”

“i’m doing my best.”

“she didn't choose this role.”

“life is not a fairytale.”

“our loneliness will keep us warm.”

“i don't mind taking a photograph.”

“you're gonna bend until it breaks.”

“maybe something in my blood could lift my spirits up.”

“i am out of my mind.”

“imagine knowing me.”

“i hope it's where i belong.”

“is it still me that makes you sweat?”

“your speech is slurred enough that you just might swallow your tongue.”

“i must be lucky to have you be the one who loves me.”

“but who could love me?”

“you clicked your heels and wished for me.”

“give me your attention.”

“you set the house on fire.”

"man, it feels good to feel this way."

“i've got more wit, a better kiss, a hotter touch, a better fuck then any boy you'll ever meet.”

“if the clouds were singing a song, i'd sing along. wouldn't you, too?”

“i know i've been wrong.”

“kissed a girl in the lobby ‘cause she asked so politely.”

“i can't get out by myself.”

“true love like ours is worth so much more than a diamond ring.”

“it never made her happy, 'cause she couldn't ever have me.”

“i do drunk dialing minus the alcohol.”

“i hope to god he was worth it.”

“he looked like he was barely hanging on.”

“why do i find myself outside at your window in the night?”

“i'd put a statue of myself upon the shelf.”

“they spill unfound from a pretty mouth.”

“ i'm going to need you to keep time.”

“you better back your shit up.”

“i think i owe it to you to try to be every hallucination you see in me.”

“you do this all the time."

“you're not what he's thinking of when he's with the other girl.”

things have changed for me.”

“this was no accident.”

“it's much better to face these kinds of things with a sense of poise and rationality.”

“just sit back and relax.”

“i, for one, won't stand for this.”

“we play by donner party rules at all times.”

“the glitter is gone.”

“boys will be boys.”

“you're all that's left for me.”

“my mind is all mixed up.”

“who knew that love was a dangerous drug?”

“'she couldn't ever have me.”

“isn't this exactly where you'd like me?”

“we can play normal for a few days.”

“i ground my teeth and you bite your tongue.”

“in case i lost my train of thought where was it that we last left off?”

“it seems i’m someone i've never met.”

“i think i made you up.”

“it never gave a damn about me.”

“perhaps, i was born with curiosity, the likes of those of old crows.”

“i'm cold, i'm hungry, but i'm bored.”

“i don't want no gifts.”

“the monster mash is playing.”

“do you really even live here?”

“this kind of thing always happens.”

“you were right. i was wrong, like i always am.”

“i missed your skin when you were east.”

“i feel as if i’m a figurine.”

“every night is the same.”

“ i'm sure i didn't ruin her.”

“i could have sworn we danced slow before.”

“i'm seated and sweating to a dance song on the club's pa.”

“it's nice to think that you are always wanted.”

“am i who you think about in bed?”

“you'll never know until you're there.”

“come on, this is screaming ‘photo op’.”

“you and i will always be ‘the dream’.”

“any practiced catholic would cross themselves upon entering.”

“it was a scream when we were young and dumb.”

“i know i should've never left.”

“who can i believe?”

“she always had her fangs at my jugular vein.”

“and a few more of your least favorite things.”

“in matters of opinion, love has gone insane.”

“if i go to hell will you come with me or just leave?”

“in the house of mirrors, ain't nothing keep you safe.”

“you know that you feel it too.”

“now we're making some progress.”

“god damn, i’d hate to see what i’d do under the influence.”

“i’m only reflecting your perfections.”

“just a first kiss to face the new year.”

“we’ll sit in silence.”

“you're a regular decorated emergency.”

“euphoria is a risk on the floor.”

“she could never win me.”

“love is all i'm really after.”

“have some composure,.”

“this was a therapeutic chain of events.”

“on the hotel floor, drinking warm champagne.”

“we need to talk.”

“every word gets you a step closer to hell.”

“let me help you please.”

“i never said i missed her when everybody kissed her.”

“now i know it's just a matter of time until i make her come.”

“if the world were ending, would you kiss me or just leave me?”

“forgive me if i’m not quite ready to give them to you.”

“i want to know what everyone knows.”

“you told me not to fear the dark.”

“the weather is impeccable.”

“i don't love you, i'm just passing the time.”

“i can't help but to hear an exchanging of words.”

“love is established philosophy.”

“but it might’ve been the calm that comes before the storm.”

“let's sing it like you mean it.”

“there's a devil in the corner.”

“there’s never anything good on tv.”

“everything goes according to plan.”

“i ran from love like it was laced.”

“i guess we're back to us.”

“we can't help ourselves.”

“i remember fuckin' in the falling rain.”

“i wasn't born to be a skeleton.”

“i couldn't quit her.”

“everything's gone missing.”

“we must reinvent love.”

“i know it's sad that i never gave a damn about the weather.”

“what do i know?”

"the best part about you was me."

“check the pocket of my leather jacket.”

“i am truly made of one million glowing constellations.”

“i mean, technically our marriage is saved.”

“she's a dangerous place.”

“even the truth is wrong sometimes.”

“was it god who chokes in these situations?”

“i feel like something on strings.”

“she couldn't ever catch me.”

“i try not to think about it and you.”

“i know it's just a matter of time.”

“i can't prove this makes any sense, but i sure hope that it does.”

“you know you should take it a day at a time.”

“i never said i’d leave the city.”

“it's the greatest thing you'd ever imagine.”

“i might have lost control.”

“i'm in a rut but still adored.”

“i'll keep my distance.”

“i need to take a vacation.”

“it's almost halloween.”

“is it a fairy tale?”

“well, this calls for a toast, so pour the champagne.”

“you can't stand it.”

“i'm exactly where you'd like me, you know.”

“we were always thick as thieves, you and me.”

“maybe i will, maybe i won’t.”

“all i want to do is dig a hole with you.”

“stop stalling.”

“it truly is enough to be alive and be in love.”

“i can't believe my eyes.”

“if i were to die tonight, would you cry, or deny my place in your life?”

“you are at the top of my lungs.”

“things do like to build up and fall apart at the same time for me.”

“why can't we just be friends?"

“i never know where the evening goes.”

“i want to go where everyone feels the same.”

“i fell in love again.”

“all i do is lie.”

“they asked for it.”

“was it all a dream?”

“all your wishes, they will sink like stones.”

“i wandered through the sunshine.”

“living even one minute without you is a moment i'd rather not have to live to see.”

“i want to go where everyone goes.”

“i think that i have had enough.”

“asked to be her husband; she already had one in prison.”

“true love is scarce.”

“somehow it still came undone.”

“things are shaping up to be pretty odd.”

“is ‘young’ a word for ‘dumb’; a word for ‘fun’?”

“said i'd let you keep it forever.”

“i never said i’d leave this town.”

“guess i'm going to a party.”

“damn, this is rough.”

“someone should have told her that pretty ain't a job.”

“something changed along the way.”

“i can't convince myself that you were good for more than cheap thrills.”

“now i’m the only one to blame.”

“let's not get selfish.”

“i hardly knew a thing about you.”

“give your feet a chance, they'll do all the thinking.”

“make a name for yourself.”

“it's useless searching in the cupboards.”

“i won't cut my beard and i won't change my hair.”

“it’s just the end of the world.”

“back to the room where it all began.”

“what was it that you put into my guts?”

“what a shame.”

“we'll leave the past out to pasture.”

“i know the world’s a broken bone, but melt your headaches, call it home.”

“everybody knows it but you.”

“it looks like the end of history as we know.”

#rp meme #rp prompt #rp starters #rp sentence meme #rp sentence starters #'ink ...' u say. 'i know' i say #if u know my newest rp blog and u see this ... simply Do Not Perceive Me #im having me time get OUT #let me live my LIFE

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shihalyfie · 3 years

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The paradox of the relationship between Takeru and Hikari

The issue of the relationship between Takeru and Hikari has been a question of interest since the series first aired, and especially after 02, which prominently depicted them constantly hanging out together and clearly having some kind of relation to each other...and yet, strangely, very rarely having a real heart-to-heart or even talking to each other much at all. The constant juxtapositions of them standing next to each other all of the time in both the series and in external media, combined with the fact they’re so associated with each other in terms of being Adventure returnees and with Digimon partners with similar evolutions, makes one almost mentally geared to associate them with each other, and yet we never really get to hear what they think about each other in the entirety of Adventure or 02′s running.

Part of this is because Takeru and Hikari are the two most “difficult to read” characters in the 02 team -- Hikari because she compulsively suppresses any selfish or negative feeling she has, and Takeru because he covers up his problems with a smile and pretends everything is okay, until it’s not. And, as it turns out, that “gap in communication” exists between the two of them as well; in the web of 02′s relationships, it’s a strange mix between being “comfortable around” each other, and yet not truly knowing each other...

Disclaimer before we continue: With some exceptions related to unambiguous canon depictions, I try to write my meta about relationships between characters in such a way that both shipping readings and non-shipping readings are possible in most cases, and my main reason for this is that I very strongly believe that even if you do ship the pair in question, it’s rather reductive (and not very fun) to stop an analysis at “anyway it’s because they’re in love” or something and not go any further. If you don’t care for Takeru/Hikari as a ship, I hope you can take this analysis as-is, and if you do happen to ship it, I hope you can take my analysis of the gaps in their relationship as “things they would have to consider and overcome for such a relationship to be possible” (i.e. a possible fanfic prompt?) and not me trying to dismiss the ship as inherently possible or impossible.

A second disclaimer: A lot of the important key points below are heavily dependent on how they were presented in the Japanese version of 02, especially in regards to the key 02 episode 13. The American English dub took a very large number of liberties with a lot of the below aspects, so if you are reading this with only that version as a reference, please be aware that there may be significant differences for the sake of avoiding confusion.

Hikari didn’t get to spend much of the series with the rest of the Adventure group, having been a “latecomer”, but once she enters, it’s rather interesting how much Takeru doesn’t socialize much with her. Granted, part of this was because of the circumstances -- there was a lot to be done, and Hikari had a cold relapse not long after they’d entered the Digital World -- but you’d really think Takeru would be interested in at least socializing with someone who’s actually his age, and yet we don’t get any real depiction of doing so outside of discussing important matters. It’s not to say that they never had any kind of conversation offscreen, but by the time we get to the end of Adventure, we have zero scope of what they actually think of each other.

By the time we get to 02, it turns out that this is probably by design.

First of all, we very quickly learn that the two of them did not keep up between Adventure and 02 -- they’re meeting each other again for the first time in a long time, and the last time they did meet was when they were much younger (probably their last meeting being the one depicted in the flashback in 02 episode 27). This is understandable considering that, up until the beginning of 02, Takeru lived in Sangenjaya and not Odaiba, meaning that it wasn’t like they’d have opportunities to meet up much in real life either, but the point is that this is how little contact and how little involvement they’d had in each other’s lives up until this point.

So, once the plot of 02 kicks off and the two of them become active as Chosen Children again, the two of them end up hanging out a lot. So much that Daisuke starts accusing them of having something between them. And the two of them never say anything to really firmly deny him, which of course only makes him more confused and upset, until 02 episode 17, when the concrete connection between them is established to the rest of the 02 team, and it’s properly disclosed that they were part of a whole adventure back in 1999 together.

Takeru knew Hikari before, and she’s still the one he knows the best out of this team, and on Hikari’s part, Takeru understands the nature of “being a Chosen Child” in ways the others don’t, and both of them had that formative experience that the others don’t understand. But 02 is a series that’s not only about relationships, but also about the differing nature of relationships -- it’s true that, having known each other well beforehand and also being all-around decent people, the two of them would certainly have an extra level of investment in each other’s welfare, but...

In 02 episode 13, we learn that as much as Takeru knows Hikari, he doesn’t really know her, and on Hikari’s part, she’s still incapable of communicating the extent of her thoughts so that he can.

The conversation between Takeru and Hikari behind the school in this episode is the first time we get to really see an opportunity for the two of them to bare their actual emotions, but nothing that can be called a "conversation" is had between them. Hikari is still plagued by a compulsive desire to not be a burden to others, including the idea of “burdening” her brother, and, when Takeru finally prompts her on what’s going on, she says nothing that properly clarifies what she’s going through, nothing but a cryptic mention of the “sea”, a statement that she "might be going away”, and a reference to her brother having always protected her beforehand. Takeru takes it as a sign that Hikari’s become overly dependent on Taichi, and snaps at her angrily -- a persistent symptom of him being unable to regulate his emotions properly -- and, unable to handle it, runs off awkwardly, leaving her alone to eventually be taken away. Later in the episode, Takeru reflects that he’d basically just doomed Hikari by his own actions, and with his last words to her having been something awful.

Ultimately, some degree of progress is made in that Hikari realizes that Takeru reaching out to her earlier makes him someone she should be reaching out to for help -- in the end, nobody in the 02 group had yet been able to reach out to her emotionally because of how closed-in she was, and the only people she truly trusted with her feelings up until that point were Taichi and Tailmon. So in other words, Takeru is another person she can finally “trust” with her feelings and welfare. But while Takeru is finally able to connect to her in some sense with this, when the two finally close off the episode and return to the real world, everything ends in complete silence. They do not say a single word to each other. They’re getting by with a sense of “inherent trust”, and their disconnect was resolved with that alone this time, but this problem hasn’t been fully solved yet and will be rearing its ugly head again by the time we get around to the Jogress arcs.

And so the two of them return back to their “comfortable with each other” status quo -- but, again, 02 is a series that portrays relationships in a very multi-layered and multifaceted form, and being comfortable around someone still doesn’t necessarily merit emotional closeness (for instance, Ken was pretty clearly indicated as being “comfortable” and straightforward in terms of working with Miyako in 02 episodes 25 and 33, but there’s no doubt that Daisuke’s the one who was more properly addressing the things he emotionally needed most at the time, which could arguably be said to be exactly why Ken was having a hard time adjusting to him at first). We see them “go off together” to do...completely mundane and practical things, like discussing why they’re still able to come to the Digital World in 02 episode 22, or trying to have their Digimon partners evolve on their own in 02 episode 24 -- they’re not having any kind of emotional heart-to-heart, they’re just there.

When you look at the wider picture, you can see that Hikari and Takeru’s relative comfort around each other at this point is largely because they’re still not comfortable being alone with anyone else yet. So far, they kind of had a bonding (not really bonding) session back in 02 episode 13, and they hadn’t had anything of the sort with anyone else, and they’re still the only people who understand certain things relevant to the adventure in 1999 that the others don’t. They’re both still ridiculously closed-in and guarded, and not trusting anyone with their feelings -- they can’t even trust each other with their feelings -- so they’re getting by on hanging out with each other because it’s either that or go off to be completely alone. As the two most “emotionally isolated” people in this group, there’s a wall between them and the others, and that wall is only slightly thinner between each other -- and you can even imagine that they’re willing to hang out with each other because they won’t be bothering that wall and causing intimidation.

And by the time we roll around to 02 episode 31, we learn that, this whole time, nothing has improved. Takeru sees that something is going on with Hikari, but does and says nothing -- perhaps because he’s not sure what to say, perhaps because he’s afraid of lashing out at her again, whatever it is -- but he can’t and won’t speak to her nor address her feelings.

In the end, the person who does establish that ability to “communicate” with Hikari is not Takeru but Miyako -- an aggressive, in-your-face, overly honest person who gets straight to the point and refuses to hold back, whose messy personality causes Hikari to become assertive in handling her and allows Hikari to finally vocalize one of her truly sensitive feelings, and who’s able to use her immense emotional sensitivity to identify what Hikari needs and break through to her.

But just because Miyako ended up being the person Hikari needs to move on past this issue does not mean Takeru’s role wasn’t important, nor that Miyako coming into Hikari’s life means that all of her relationships are inferior or pointless -- rather, a recurring element of 02′s portrayal of relationships is that everything has a ripple effect, and that “opening up” one person’s heart allows them to open up to others as well (see how Daisuke reaching out to Ken eventually helped him reach out to the others in the group, how even in this very same episode Miyako expresses that this experience helped her understand Ken better as well, how Daisuke’s experiences end up giving him a healthier relationship with the rest of the group, how Iori and Takeru’s Jogress ordeal helps them both become better at reaching out to Ken...). Unlike how they’d both closed off 02 episode 13, Hikari and Takeru end this one by talking -- with Hikari’s newfound confidence from her dealings with Miyako allowing her to more openly speak what she’s thinking with Takeru.

One thing you might notice is that after 02 episode 31, Takeru and Hikari are never seen going off on their own together for the rest of the series -- because, again, their “latching” onto hanging out with each other at the exclusion of anyone else was because they were that isolated from everyone else, but not anymore! Hikari starts to hang out more with Miyako as the two of them become more comfortable hanging out after the events of said episode; after all, Miyako had come to understand the real reason why Hikari “keeps so much inside” and that she needs to actively reach out to her, and Hikari is able to properly trust Miyako with her feelings, meaning that now that Hikari is starting to open up, she doesn’t need to fall back on her “truce” with Takeru to get by. Which ends up leaving Takeru rather alone for the following set of episodes. Well, seemingly alone, but...

...he’s not truly alone, because this is also where Iori realizes that there’s a lot more going on with Takeru and that he needs to make a proactive effort to understand him, and it doesn’t take long for Takeru to realize what Iori’s doing (especially when Yamato tips him off that Iori asked about him in 02 episode 35). Once again, very much unlike Hikari, Iori is straightforward and to-the-point, and is much better at cutting through all of the complicated layers Takeru puts up in an attempt to cover up his emotions.

The rest of the series has them in significantly more emotionally tense situations than before, and while the fact they end up spending the rest of the series with their respective Jogress partners instead of each other is partially sheer pragmatics, it’s also how the two of them start taking a more active role in actually checking on the others’ emotions and communicating with them in regards to their feelings. This is a huge deal -- compare this to back in 02 episode 13 when they were practically the only people willing to have this kind of serious, emotional conversation with each other -- and said attempt at a serious conversation exploded in their faces. (The other time one of them had made an attempt at something vaguely resembling a heart-to-heart during that time was 02 episode 11, which also resulted in Takeru blowing up explosively.) But here they’re capable of communicating clearly and openly and making their positions known in a way that gets through to their respective Jogress partners’ issues, without being stifled by anything.

But, again: just because they don’t “go off together” anymore doesn’t mean they stopped being important people to each other or comfortable around each other -- it’s just that now they’ve stopped wandering off together for the sake of blocking themselves away from others, and no longer trapped in this strange, paradoxical relationship of knowing-but-not-truly-knowing each other they had all the way back in 02 episode 13. The relationship they had back then was something built off of coping mechanisms, and not something you could truly say was healthy, not when their communication was stilted and Takeru had snapped at her so badly -- but both of them learning to open up more and be more honest with their feelings means that they may well have an actual healthy dynamic going forward.

And for all it’s worth, we learn that they’re still on very good terms by the time of Kizuna, getting breakfast together in the opening -- but it’s left ambiguous if their reason for doing so like this was because they still have a penchant for particularly hanging out together, or whether it was just circumstance because they were free to get breakfast after the Digimon incident (they act independently for the rest of the movie). Moreover, their relationships with the others in the 02 group are still going strong, because as per the drama CD, Takeru’s happy to hang out with Daisuke like it’s nothing and actively join in to reach out to Iori (it’s said Daisuke was approaching Iori “first” despite Takeru being there, so both of them were hanging out independently and decided to pick up Iori together), and Hikari comes in with Miyako, expressing a very firm intent to hang out with her for their trip, and ultimately it’s established that them not being with the rest of the group at the time of the movie was sheer scheduling circumstance and not necessarily them going out of their way to operate away from them.

So in other words, whatever relation you can say they have at this point, or their ability to get along, is not based on them falling back on each other as an unhealthy coping mechanism of silence, but one carried out in a more genuine manner.

#digimon #digimon adventure #digimon adventure 02 #digimon adventure last evolution kizuna #kizuna spoilers #takaishi takeru #yagami hikari #takeru takaishi #hikari yagami #shihameta

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