#I can’t imagine a world without you so I offer myself up to become a part of you ughhh

[dontmindmejustdoomscrolling]

Just finished reading Gideon the Ninth.

I’m going to cry what the FUCK

[simmireen]

Head over heels

The taxi pulled over at my apartment complex. It was just a five minute drive so in the presence of the driver we were quiet. We were hand in hand, me playing lovingly with her fingers. I really wanted to know what she thought of the evening. For me these nights are part of the job, but for her, it's an entire experience, I know. All the people, the photographers, the glam, everything is bigger than she ever could imagine. And then this was a smaller premiere even. 

Even while walking to my apartment door, which I held open for her, she was quiet. She seemed overwhelmed, but in a good way. Taking in all the buzz that happened around her those hours before. And she did amazing, even though I held her close to me all evening, because I know this all is overwhelming to her. Without taking her coat off she walks over to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. I walk over to her, "My lovely lovely lady. Can I take your coat?". She chuckles and helps me take it off. I walk off to hang it onto a chair at the diner table and walk back. She takes a sip of her water and I wrap my arms around her. Her arousing scent filling my nose. Her naked shoulders are now showing and I am in need to kiss them, so I give in. She looked so beautiful all night and I had difficulties keeping myself sane, because she had this tendency to touch me a lot. 

"And.. What did you think about tonight?", I ask between the kisses. I kiss her close to her neck and I feel her body answering me with a little shiver. She smiles, "A lot of people, but definitely amazing". It stays quiet for a minute, while I'm still gently kissing the silky skin on her shoulders. She takes it in, how I took in her strokes all night- Oh I did take them in, but I had to stay professional, so I couldn't do much more than just holding her close and tight to me and enjoy her touching in silence. Which was hard, but I am so proud that I could finally show my little world this woman is with me. 

"This is your life, already for ... how long?" She asks while I move my hand subtly up from her waist. I really have to restrain myself from making some moves since her body replies to my hands embracing her sides with another soft shiver. While I subtly stroke the side of her breast, I give her another soft kiss on her shoulder and answer her question, ‘Mmm, twenty-five years’. 

It really has been almost twenty-five years. At the end of the year I would be a producer for all those years, of course before becoming a producer, I did several things in the industry. I almost can’t imagine doing something else, but at the same time I know I will be doing something different in the near future, since I still have that job offer in San Myshuno. I basically said I would do it, if I could find an apartment first. I know it’s going to be a big change, but I also know it’s so worth it. As if Minnie could hear my thoughts, she tells me she agrees with Geoffrey. She met my direct boss, Geoffrey Landgraab today. I have worked with him for about twenty years. I think through the years we became, well I don’t think I can call it friends, but good acquaintances in and outside our workfield. Tonight Geoffrey came to introduce himself to Minnie with the statement she would steal me away from him. Of course he said that as a joke, but I also know how Minnie blames herself for me making this decision of moving away from Del Sol Valley for, well, her. “You really shouldn’t give that up Jim”, she says softly. I move in a little closer while I still am taking in her soft skin. She means the fact I have this lifestyle we both encountered tonight. The luxury, the glam, the fame around me. I’m used to that life. I sometimes even choose not to go to the smaller premieres, because they bore me, but sometimes you have to go, to show yourself to the directors and actors you work together with. 

She leans on the counter with one hand while her other hand is touching my hand resting on her waist. I’m still on and off kissing her sensually on her neck and shoulders, her lovely flowery sweet scent that always turns me on reaches deep, while her body still heavily responds to my touches too. I love worshipping her, caressing every inch of her soft skin. I gently move my hands up to cup her breasts -God, that’s such a manly thing to do- but I can’t help it, but clearly she doesn’t mind, because she starts leaning forward with two hands on the counter so her ass stroke my intimate area which makes my pants become a little tight. “After all that time, these parties become very monotonous. Definitely if you are always the one who comes alone.”, I answer absentmindedly. It is true, being alone at an event like tonight is kinda lonely. So the fact I could finally bring her, but also the fact she stayed close to me all night instead of taking a distance, which she normally does when we are in public, means so much to me. She becomes more confident next to me, and I want her to know. I find her ear and whisper, “So, sharing this with a gorgeous lady that stands next to me, that I want to show off to everyone, looks way too sexy and arouses me with every touch she made tonight, makes my choice so much easier”. I want her, I only want her. This job has become meaningless for me since she is in my life, which is a miracle, not even a year ago this job meant everything to me. She does things to me, I’m head over heels, but physically she lets me burn inside. She drives me crazy, gives me the worst primal needs, like grabbing both of her boobs just now, that’s so not like the man I want to be. I blame the ‘staying professional’ rule I gave myself tonight. Right now, I don’t have to restrain myself any longer, I slowly move my hand down. She leans forward a little more on the counter and gasps when I reach her inner thigh. Her breathing quickens while I am still playfully moving my fingers around that thigh area. 

Fairly sudden she turns around and pants while she says my name. The first thought that comes up is that I went too fast, did something she wasn’t ready for, “Sorry, I let myself go for a minute-” but she interrupts me with a hard no. “Don’t apologize”. Her breathing stabilizes a little again and she says my name again, “Jim, you are everything a woman wants. You are a real gentleman, you put me on a pedestal. You are so very passionate about the things you love.” Oh, she is right, I’m very passionate about her, I want to answer, but she doesn’t let me, she looks away. “And you are so.. so very attractive”, she sighs, leaving out a heavy breath after saying that compliment. I’m flattered, I’m silenced. I know she isn’t that outspoken about what she feels for me. A few butterflies wake up in my stomach and flutter around. “And above all, you have the lifestyle everyone dreams about. You really shouldn’t give that up. Not for me”, she continues. And there it is, her insecure inner thoughts about the thought that she doesn’t deserve me, that she doesn’t deserve my love, love in general. Is that what I like about her so much? The fact I want to make her happy, the fact I can be the one who makes her happy? She is the very reason I want to give it all up. I want to make her happy. That lifestyle? - I don’t give a fuck about it anymore. Yeah it’s nice to be able to buy a nice car and a good suit, but I’d rather buy ten pairs of heels for her, “but what if I’m tired of that lifestyle, and am willing to give that all up for something I am way more passionate about?” I answer. Now she is silenced. I still hold her tight, because when she turned around facing me, I didn’t give her much space. When I’m explaining her the rest of why this glamorous world is as fake as it is, I see her thoughts racing. Her mind is finding reasons again why she doesn’t deserve me. I see her slipping away, so I find her back with my hand and pull her closer to me. She looks at me with her big brown eyes, only now scared, silenced. Her hand caresses my face and there it is, “What if, eventually, the light you see in me… dims?”, she whispers softly and looks away. I understand that question, it comes from deep within and answers why she is this broken beautiful fragile woman. She is afraid I will leave her, what her ex-husband did, and he did it without any warning. This hits me deep also, because in some way I was a man like that. Only I never left anyone, but it was my fault my marriage collapsed. Because yes, the brighter light I followed was my work and now I am leaving my work for this mesmerizing woman. Am I that simple? Clearly I am. Besides, I also learned a lot about myself these last years and ending up alone is something I secretly am a little scared of. 

“I don’t think it will”, I answer her in all honesty. It’s not the straight up answer she is looking for, but I stay calm, because she isn’t. “You don’t know”, she replies as if she can hear my thoughts. “Nope, that’s very true. We never know.” She stares at me again with her big beautiful eyes. “We can’t look into that future Minnie. But for now I am very, very sure I want to spend the rest of my life with you. If these three months define my life with you, I’m looking forward to the rest”, I reassure her. A deep breath leaves her mouth, into mine. Nothing is a lie about that. These three months are the happiest my life has ever been and she is the reason. “Let’s look at it day by day”. With every word I say, I see her giving in to my reassurance, so I decide to continue a little more. “Today I fell in love with you even more. I want you, more than ever. This evening you showed me how much you fit into this lifestyle. The confidence you had tonight. How beautiful you look with your outfit and new heels, how kind you are to my colleagues. How sweet, arousing and sexy you are.” I push her gently against the counter and she moves her arm around my neck. She always melts into me if I tell her how much I want her. And I want her, desperately. I know she wants it too, because the tension between us reached a new high. I move my hand to her leg and in an automatic response she lifts it up. I chuckle, “but I’m very selfish by telling you what I want, but way more important is what you want. What do you want my beautiful lady?”. She swallows, looks away and it stays quiet for a few seconds. My eyes still locked on her, she looks back to me and whispers, so almost no one could hear it, “You.”

She sighs. 

“I want you. I need you.” 

I lean my body closer to her, if that’s even possible, my hands find both of her legs and pull them both up so she gets lifted up the kitchen counter. And I give her the kiss I've wanted to give her since we came home. One where you forget everything around you. Sucked into each other’s presence. Giving into the tension that’s built up all day long. From the moment she walked the red carpet next to me, from the moment we sat together in the dark theatre trying not to touch each other constantly to the moment after the movie when Geoffrey told me the fact she is the lucky one for me. Her way of fiddling with my shirt and suit she did after I confessed that she is indeed the lucky one, made it very clear she didn’t really know what to do with that tension. It all came out now. I couldn’t hold myself any longer. I barely could hold in the impure thought of how much I wanted to pull that jumpsuit off of her and take her right onto my counter, but no. She deserves the pleasure all night long. She is that lucky one, that drives me insane and I never have felt this way about any woman in my life. I love her, I want her and I definitely need her in my life. I stop the kiss to breathe and look into eyes that are full of desire for more. God, I need her. I really really need her. “And you have no idea how much I need you…”

We fall into the passionate kiss again. I gently pull her off the counter and guide her out of my kitchen, along the diner table, to the bedroom door. When we are inside, I close the door and push her gently to the door so she is locked between me and the door. I lift her up against the door, which startles me, but clearly my instincts take over my sanity. Her soft lips on mine, her tongue playing with mine. 

I can hold her for a little while, and she helps with locking her legs around my waist, but while kissing, it’s a tough job to do. I haven’t been working out in a while, and that’s what I feel right now. In the little breathing break I decide to kiss her neck again. I have her lifted and pushed against my bedroom door, where she is currently taller than me, so it’s a free play for me. A soft moan of pleasure fills the room. 

I decide to make it easier for myself and walk two steps backwards until I hit the edge of my bed and make myself sit with her still on top of me, kissing me passionately. Her on top of me, yes please, this is so very sexy. This Minnie I haven’t seen yet, I know she always holds back in some way and doesn’t show me exactly what she wants. Maybe also my fault because I feel like I’m responsible for pleasing her and taking the lead, but I would die if Minnie would take control sometimes. I open my eyes to take a look at her. Our eyes meet and she stops kissing. Flutters in my stomach. My heart skipping a beat or two. A silence full of feelings. Her hands find the buttons of my shirt and undresses my jacket and shirt. I decide not to do anything, yet, but it’s hard to contain myself. Her warm hands stroke my chest and I softly lean backwards until I feel my pillows and pull her with me. I have her on top of me now, with her head on my chest, but before I could make my next move, she surprises me with kisses on my collarbone. She traces my neck with more kisses, my chest, lowering to my belly until she meets the edge of my pants. I let out a groan because I can’t contain myself much longer. Bewildered, I push myself up and look at her and meet with a set of surprised eyes. Now it’s my turn, I move her to the edge of my bed to find the zipper on the side of her jumpsuit. I undress her- sadly I had to take off her heels. It reveals a lace panties again. Help me. She dressed up entirely, but my impure thoughts tell me to get it all off.. There she is, standing in front of me in all her naked beauty. I undo myself from my shoes and my pants. Including my boxershort. My erection showing proud.

I pull her beautiful naked body onto me again, so I have her on top of me. Skin to skin. She pushes me onto the pillow again and starts giving me a deep kiss again. The weight of her on me is pleasant. With my hands on her hips I control how much she moves, but she still has me in total control. “You really should stop surprising me”. I know Minnie looks very shy and insecure and innocent to the outside world, I know different by now. As long as you give her a warm and trusted safe place where she can be herself, she shows how lustful she is. “What did I do?”, she asks with a little smirk. Oh, she definitely knows what she is doing. “And then she asks me what she does”, I answer playfully. She chuckles. 

I find her hands and lock her fingers into mine so I can push her up so she sits on top of me, but I continue to push her onto her back so I am on my knees above her. She should be pleased first. I don’t think with her on top of me, I could have lasted very long. My finger is lovingly stroking the curves of her naked body while she looks at me full of desire. “Can I kiss you?”, I ask. I wish I could make love all night with this woman. Please her multiple times. Kiss her whole body. She nods, she knows I mean something different than kissing her on her lips. I make my way down and pause for kisses on her breasts, her belly and her hips tighten while I move down to the place where I wanna be. I start slow but speed up the pace little by little. Her heavy breathing tells me she likes what I do. It doesn’t take long until she starts moaning softly and I feel her body tightening up. I feel her grabbing the sheets with both of her hands and she lets out a moan I never heard her making before. Can she get even sexier?

I slowly stop what I’m doing while I feel her body go back into relaxed mode. She is breathing heavily still and caresses my head with both of her hands. I move up again hovering over her and stare into the most beautiful face I have seen tonight. “I love you”, she stammers. 

“I love you too”, I answer with a huge smile. 

She lowers her hands to grab my hips and slowly pulls me back onto her. She is very much not innocent at all tonight, a groan escapes while she folds her legs around me. I know I can handle waiting patiently, but I can’t help craving her even more after the climax I just gave her. I want her. Badly. 

She gently pulls my head to her face and gives me an intense kiss. I softly grind my hips against her and she whimpers. I stop and look into two craving eyes. “Can I..?”, I whisper. I always make sure I ask for consent, she knows. She nods slowly, whispers a yes and kisses me again. I tilt my hips and push myself slowly in her. 

This feeling, melted together deeply, making love, is the most intense and happy feeling I have ever had. I don’t think I have had this before in my entire life. 

Is that what the love of your life is supposed to be? 

Then I found her. 

Want to know more about these two (mostly in images - see my (way too long story on instagram or discord channel)

[sisterandscripture]

Christ as a Caretaker 💞

Hi siblings!! It’s mee, Elle, your sister in Christ! 🎀

If you’re new to my blog, welcome!! I created this to help strengthen my relationship with God and hopefully help others do the same ^^

I was feeling a little down today, so I thought of posting this for a bit of comfort <333

Soooo if you’ve had a bad day…

Sit down, relax, and take comfort in Christ 🙏

📜Bible Verse of The Day

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.”

‭‭Matthew‬ ‭11‬:‭28‬ ‭[NIV‬‬]

💌Something’s in your Inbox!

(im terribly sorry for the random info dump, please bear with me sharing my experience 😓)

I’m an eldest daughter, so uhm…

As you can imagine, there was definitely a lot of pressure put on me, even at a young age. I’m always expected to be independent and strong.

Even now, my sister gets most of the attention in the family and that’s okay with me, I understand why. She’s younger and needs more care than I do.

Along with the rest of my family, I take care of her too.

Sometimes though, it comes to the point when there are times that I have no one to go to for comfort, and I can’t even care for myself.

When I am burdened by something, I’d much rather keep it to myself than add to my parents’ burdens. I don’t want to become someone else’s problem just because I’m dealing with my own.

Yet, I can’t help but yearn for someone to take care of me— for someone to prioritize me, give me their undivided attention, unwavering comfort, and put me first.

Now that I’m growing up and growing more in my faith, it’s time I taught myself run to God.

Matthew 11:28 reminds us that there is someone who cares for us, someone who is willing to pay attention to our struggles and to lift our burdens.

God is our caretaker, He is the one person we can constantly go to for comfort.

Jesus Christ is the epitome of safety, warmth, and care. (I mean, the guy loved us so much that he died for us sooo…) He will always be there for us.

If you’ve been feeling a little unloved today or for quite awhile now, it’s okay :))

You don’t always have to be strong, sometimes it’s okay not to be okay. Whatever you’re feeling is valid. It’s okay to cry, it’s okay to break down, it’s okay to lose sight of your path.

Leave it to God to build you back up again and bring you back on the right track.

Come to Him, and he will give you rest. Come to Him, and I promise, you’ll instantly feel much better 🥹🥹

Christ is our caretaker and our refuge— without fail, He will care for us. He will always be there for us. Whenever you feel alone, you aren’t.

God’s just waiting for you to reach out to Him. He loves you so much. Even when it feels like the whole world hates you, God is there.

Take comfort in Christ, and you won’t regret it.

And who knows? Maybe there will come a time when He’ll send someone here on earth that will care for and love you sincerely.

(hey, if you do need someone to talk to though, you can always reach out to me too— just send a message, and i can include you in my prayers or we can pray together!! but I strongly encourage you to go to God first :3)

📞God’s on the Line

I always say that prayer is a powerful thing. It’s your strongest weapon and your biggest comfort. It’s a one-way ticket to reach out to God!! ✨

Almighty God,

Thank You for being my caretaker. Thank You for constantly being there for me, and for being my best source of comfort. Thank You for allowing me to go to You when I am tired, sick, burnt out, sad, and hurt. Thank You for Your unconditional and perfect love— and the ultimate sacrifice that proves it, dying on the cross for my sins. I love You and offer all that I have to You. In my times of need, remind me to always go to You.

In Jesus’ Name,

Amen!!

(you may continue this on your own, take all the time you need. let the prayer bring you comfort, let Him speak to you)

Goodbyeee my siblings!! Take care of yourselves, and remember that God takes care of you too. He loves you sooo much!! 💗

[lesbianneopolitan]

NGO Diary Entry: Pieta

Original post by Nyalra

-💊-

The internet reeks of chaos. It's packed with people, and panic lurks everywhere. Every little thing sends everyone into a frenzy, with the crowd eagerly adding fuel to the flames. Adults desperately critique others for their failures, all while ignoring their own mistakes.

Yet, we love the internet. Amid its disorder, it offers a slight reprieve from the real world, where we're expected to conform to the rigidity of "society." In an effort to rescue the souls lost in this vast, electronic wilderness, I chose to become an Internet Angel. By doing this, I could be seen, maybe for the first time. People crave attention... much like me, someone ignored in the real world. I provide fleeting comfort to those who recognize me. Angels guide the lost, after all.

Tonight, I’ll descend into the depths of cyberspace as an Internet Angel. I’ll tie up my black hair and don a golden wig. My favorite style is pink and light blue twin tails. As I move during my broadcast, those two colors spiral beautifully. My makeup is flawless—just exaggerated enough to give off an air of unreality. It makes me feel like I’m something beyond the mundane. All that's left is to slip into a sailor uniform that shimmers like the aurora and flash a smile I would never wear in real life.

A beam of light cutting through this chaotic Reiwa era internet, promising smiles to the otaku drifting in the sea of pixels, and a peaceful future. I may struggle with my emotions, but leave it to me, the Internet Angel has arrived!

"Hey Gelban! I'm KAngel, your neighbor who loves you!" When I greeted Gelban, the comments exploded with excitement. They’re pure, passionate fans, the kind who inspire me to be a faithful angel. Even though, let’s be real, there’s no god here on the internet.

"Today, I’ve got something special! My song is now available on an analog record! Can you believe it? A record! In this day and age!" [I’ve reserved mine!] [That’s amazing!] [I want one!]... The comments section is flooded with excitement. I love these honest reactions. They feel so genuine, like people can’t help but share their thoughts without a second thought. It’s as if their emotions are directly pouring out from their minds, unfiltered. Either way, it’s dazzling. I try my best to keep up with the flood of comments.

“It’s my first time using a record player, but I bought one just for this! Now I can play KAngel’s song all night long!" [I might buy a player too!] [What’s a record?] [Are you doing a solo show?]... Tonight, the comments flow like a waterfall. As long as I’m carried by this current, I imagine myself as a source of comfort for my viewers. Even in the face of hardships, there’s a joy in being a part of their lives. There are challenges, sure, but the connection I feel with so many people makes it all worth it. The night falls again with tens of thousands of otaku, all in their own little worlds, watching me...

-💊-

After the stream, I shut down my computer, took off my wig, and slipped into my regular clothes. The reflection in my desk mirror shows my usual self—not an angel at all. Just a lump of flesh, full of desire, unseen by any of the tens of thousands of otaku who tune in.

I’ve been criticized before for being "just like all streamers—fake." People without imagination always say that. If they think it’s so easy to be in front of a screen and make a living, they should try it themselves. It’s hard to reach the top in this world. Most people don’t understand how difficult it is to play the fool on purpose—to show a bright and cheerful face while hiding your pain behind the screen, all to avoid letting viewers see your suffering. Instead, they criticize anonymously, blind to the effort involved.

I don’t care about their slander—I’ve heard it a million times. But the term "fictitious business" really gets to me. It implies a business that’s fleeting, one that doesn’t leave a lasting impact. And yeah, with streaming, what’s left after a broadcast? A video. Sure, there are merchandise and things, but it’s not a solid, tangible business.

So, is KAngel just "fiction"? A collective hallucination of the lost souls of the internet? Of course, the persona is based on me—my body, my mind. But there’s a layer of fiction over it. I’m sorry it’s a lie, but no one sees the real me. I have no choice but to live this way.

-💊-

Finding material for my daily streams is a struggle. The most important thing for any broadcast is having topics, so I spend the day brainstorming, running around until it’s time to stream. When I have nothing planned, I wander the city. It’s fine to stay cooped up in my room and online, but sometimes it feels like the heat from my computer seeps into my body, dragging me into a depressive slump. When that happens, I just go outside.

Today, I went to Shibuya. I remembered that my project’s advertisement was displayed in front of the station. I pushed through the crowd to see it. On one of the walls by Shibuya Station was a large poster of KAngel, smiling brightly and holding a bottle of cola-flavored natto.

Some young girls spotted the poster, squealing, "So cute!" Some of them even took selfies next to the display with the plastic bottle of cola natto I was promoting. Everyone loves the Internet Angel. They couldn’t see the real me, standing right next to them.

I took a sip of the cola—it was awful. I only drank it because it was part of the job. If it weren’t for work, I wouldn’t have touched it. But the poster KAngel smiles, holding the cola, and those girls who don’t know any better are happily buying it. I’ve never seen such a look on their faces.

After the girls finished taking selfies, they left. How would they react if they knew KAngel was right next to them? Sometimes, I wonder if angels might be watching over people like this, unnoticed.

A little while later, we reached the Scramble Crossing. This place’s infamous for the controversial behavior of streamers trying to stand out here. There’s a superstition now that bad things happen if you film in this spot. Well, that doesn’t bother me since I rarely stream outside.

The internet can be so cold-hearted. People consume content voraciously, but once a creator slips, they turn on them like predators. Even if KAngel posted a plan to sleep in the middle of the intersection, it’d be met with a storm of criticism: "Don’t you think about the inconvenience to others?!" Of course, it’s the people causing the trouble who are at fault. It would be nice if they considered how hard it is to walk this tightrope every day.

The internet is tough. One moment, they’ll shout, "This is amazing!" or "A new star!" and prop you up on their shoulders. But the next, they’ll tear you down the moment the wind changes direction. Can people who consume content in this way really have any faith in anything? Maybe one day, I’ll be discarded like an old toy when they get bored. That would be sad for an Internet Angel.

-💊-

"Hey Gelban! It’s KAngel, Scramble Angel! I secretly went to Shibuya today! Did you see the poster in front of Shibuya Station for that natto-flavored cola? So cute, right?" [Cute!] [I saw it!] [Took a selfie with it!]... Fans respond with excitement, and the stream feels like a pure moment. It’s almost sacred. A little religious, even.

“Shibuya was so crowded that KAngel got tired… Angels can’t stay in the lower world for long. I’m more exhausted than usual, so please heal me~?” [Good work!] [Take care!] [I’m always here for you!]... Super chats pop up—comments with money attached. People give tips, hoping their comment gets noticed. It’s a world built on self-satisfaction, but if it makes people happy, then I guess it’s worth it. I provide them with content they enjoy, and I should be proud of that.

By using the Super Chat money to buy things I love, I weave a part of their world into mine. That sense of unity is strangely comforting. At first, I felt guilty about it, but now, I almost feel honored. I provide comfort and joy to others, and that’s something good.

Tonight, once again, I’ll be the cutest angel on camera.

After the broadcast, I return to be myself. I try to fall asleep quickly after searching for my name online and reading reviews. But tonight, like every other night, the stress of being an angel makes it impossible to sleep. The opinions of the internet invade my mind, keeping me awake. As my follower count grows, so does the weight on my chest. The more I take, the more pills I need to feel normal.

Eventually, I can’t sleep. As usual, my mind races. I recall the moment when even the girls taking selfies by my advertisement didn’t recognize me. I need the medicine. I swallow more pills than usual, hoping they’ll quiet my mind. The chemicals course through my bloodstream, dulling my thoughts. I feel the cold sensation at the back of my head, and while I don’t mind it, I can’t shake the feeling that something’s wrong.

I still have time before I become completely sleepy. I got up to go to the bathroom, and after staggering to relieve myself, I jumped up when I saw my face reflected in the bathroom's mirror.

For a moment, my face looked like KAngel's.

Even though I had already taken off my makeup and wig, I saw myself in the mirror, shaking my pink and light blue twin tails and smiling at myself. Unable to bear the fear, I looked down, and saw the hair that had accumulated in the drain shining gold, and I gasped again. Slowly... I took a deep breath and looked back, and there was a gloomy girl all frightened on the other side of the mirror, and the hair in the drain was also black. Thank goodness, I am now "Ame-chan".

I went back to bed and thought about what was happening. My ego and KAngel's ego are merging. My two brains are melting from the days of going back and forth between a lump of flesh and an angel. I feel like both are me, but neither of them are me.

In other words, I don't need a personality like "Ame". KAngel is the one who entertains and guides otakus on the surface, and I'm just a part that supports her activities. Because, none of the viewers are looking at me. The counters are counting up into the thousands, but not a single one of them knows who "Ame" is. Unlike KAngel, I'm not needed. No one would be sad if I died right now. The only ones who would be sad are the fans who are lamenting the fact that I've somehow disappeared from KAngel's online world. And even then, they'll probably be chasing another streamer in a few months.

It feels like I'm suffocating, but I keep thinking, "I don’t need you," over and over. It gnaws at me. I don’t want to think like this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this. I don’t want this.

Finally, I reach for the sleeping pills, swallow one more, and feel my head go hazy. This must be some kind of nightmare. I've always had this strange ability to sense when I’m about to slip into one.

Tonight, I’ll endure the pain in my dreams once more. Please, someone, help me.

-💊-

A vast, pure white space. It’s just me, as always. I suddenly realize I'm sitting in a chair, and across from me is KAngel, smiling brightly as usual. Her twin tails, a soft mix of pink and light blue, sparkled and swayed with every movement. Even I couldn’t deny it—the colors were stunning.

"Hello, Gel Ban!" she greeted me cheerfully.

"You don’t have to greet me like that," I said. "There are no viewers here. It’s just me watching you."

"I see. Sorry about that, Ame-chan."

But even so, her smile never wavered, always radiating from her face.

"There’s no need to apologize. I know you’re trying your best..." I muttered.

"That’s mutual, right?" she asked.

"I’m not so sure," I replied. "I’m just an ordinary woman with a rotten character... Unlike you, no one would even notice me walking around Shibuya."

"Ame-chan is KAngel too."

"I’m not KAngel," I said quickly. "Even if I am, it’s just a small part of who I am."

"No, you two are the same."

"Unlike me, KAngel isn't tainted. The whole world, the entire internet, loves you."

"Isn’t that the same for you, Ame-chan? You are me."

I hesitated. "No. There’s a clear difference between me and KAngel."

"Is it because KAngel is a beautiful being loved by so many people?"

"Yes."

"I love you, Ame-chan."

I looked at her, my heart heavy. "I told you, I’m impure."

"Even if you're impure, even if you're a sinner, it's the role of a guardian angel to guide you."

"You don’t have to protect me," I said softly.

"No. I’ll protect you. When you’re hurt, I’m hurt too."

"It’s fine if I’m the only one hurt. It doesn’t have to affect your image."

"That’s impossible. You and I are one. We’re inseparable, lifelong partners."

"Then..." I started, but my voice faltered. "I’ll give you my ego. I panicked today because I couldn’t figure out if it’s me or KAngel who’s the main personality. Maybe I should just let you have my whole mind."

"No. If you do that, we’ll both disappear. I’ll vanish too."

Before I could react, she took my hand gently.

["KAngel, what should I do?"]

["Ame-chan, what should I do?"]

["I think it’s the other way around, Ame-chan, what should I do?"]

["I don’t know,"]

["Ame-chan, do you like me?"]

["I get annoyed sometimes, but I still like you."]

["More than anything else?"]

["No, I guess... there are times when I prioritize you over KAngel."]

["Do you like being around KAngel?"]

["Not really. To me, KAngel is so perfect it feels a bit creepy."]

["Do you like looking at KAngel?"]

["I do. She’s beautiful. I think she's cute, even if I’m just being conceited because we have the same face."]

["Do you think KAngel is stupid?"]

["I don’t think so. She’s just playing the fool for the viewers. The real fool is me, because I can’t tune into that."]

["Do you think KAngel is attractive?"]

"Yes. Thousands of fans adore you. Every ribbon you wear is charming—everything about you is perfect."

"Are you serious?"

"I am. I’m KAngel, and KAngel is me, so I wouldn’t lie."

"Do you like me?"

"I love you,"

"Do you really love me? Do you love me that much?"

"Yes, I love you so much, I really do."

She released my hand and, with a smile, rolled up her long sleeve to show me her arms. They weren’t the flawless, angelic white I expected—her arms were scarred, rough, and lined with deep red markings.

"I told you, Ame-chan and I are the same. I’ve been hurt too. I’m tainted, just like you."

Even then, KAngel kept smiling.

"I’ll save the internet, but only you, Ame-chan, can save me."

I gave her my best smile of the day, and she ascended into the sky like an angel, disappearing from my sight.

-💊-

That night, I became an Internet Angel again.

I donned a blonde wig, an iridescent uniform, and flicked my pink and light blue twin tails.

"Gelbanha! I’m KAngel, the Internet Angel!" I called out.

The otakus greeted me back with the same enthusiasm, and I smiled brightly into the camera. Among the comments, one Super Chat stood out, marked by a red frame: "I had a dream about KAngel yesterday!" It was the biggest frame, and I could tell that person was thrilled. Comments like that made me want to acknowledge them.

"With me in your dream? Ah! Angels sometimes visit in dreams, and they speak to us in strange ways. Their words are hard to understand, but they are carrying out God’s will. So, remember what KAngel said to you in your dream. That’s the message from God!"

The chat flooded with comments: [I’d love to meet KAngel in my dream too] [Does God exist?] [Angels know a lot!]...

"Now that I think about it, I’ve been chatting a lot lately. Maybe I should explain more about angels today! As an angel, I study about God. Do you all know who the wrestler who has withstood the most attacks is?"

A flurry of wrestler names flew by in the comments, but I ignored them, quickly moving on.

"It’s Jesus Christ. He’s been attacked by the emotions of so many people, but he’s the strongest pro wrestler. He returned everything with love... or so I read in a manga!"

The internet was alive with chatter as always. KAngel, the Internet Angel, received all the affection and hatred, her wings flapping once more in the window of cyberspace.

-💊-

Maybe because of the religious talk on my stream last night, I felt the urge to visit a church. I’d heard of a large one not too far away, so I decided to check it out.

The stained-glass windows were magnificent, especially how the light streaming through formed a cross on the floor. I walked through the light and spotted a real, massive cross. The most significant symbol in Christianity—the cross on which Jesus was crucified.

Suddenly, I had a vision: KAngel, crucified, her pale skin shimmering with red scars, her usual smile gone, her eyes closed in peaceful repose.

I carefully took KAngel down from the cross, holding her in my arms. I whispered, "I love you. Really, I love you so much."

Her blue eyes opened just for a moment. When she saw my face, she seemed relieved before closing her eyes again and drifting into peaceful sleep.

[clarcced]

Chekov's Heart Shaped Gun - An Analysis Of What Love Means In Loki (TV)

What Sylki actually means and why it’s not romantic love. / How S1E3/4 and S2E5 prove that love is who one calls home. / How Lokius will prevail.

Let's begin our analysis in s1e3.

Sylvie says she can’t sleep when another version of themselves is around. She is stronger than most in the show, yet she lacks trust in themselves- then wakes up from her nap a scene later, but alas, her even saying that is interesting. On that note, Sylvie and Loki are variants of each other. It's only fair to say that they basically have the same trust issues.

Mobius is a trustworthy person overall but to a Loki that’s near impossible to come by as it seems. Loki sleeps soundly with Mobius literally across him, considering the fact that he too couldn't sleep around an untrustworthy person. He trusts Mobius, even before he met Sylvie.

Moving on, Loki takes the glasses offered to them on the train and drinks both upon Sylvie’s refusal to drink hers. The glasses and their contents are identical and have a green tint to them- which is symbolism to establish the fact that Loki and Sylvie are in fact the same person- in variance, supported by the cinematography of this scene: mirroring sides.

Loki drinking both can mean three things all together in this context which I transformed into sentences because I lack in English vocabulary:

“See, I am you, you can trust me.” – Which she doesn’t.

“I take what comes my way.” – Loki doesn’t go around looking for love in any shape or form and takes what is thrown at him – resulting in “whim-prone” actions.

“I can have my cake and eat it too.” as in Sylki stuff- which sounds like clumsy and desperate flirting to me, honestly. There is also the element of Loki’s massive ego in this context, which turns into self love and becomes less (self/)destructive as the show progresses throughout S1 and S2.

Why did they address Loki’s bisexuality in the show specifically? Verbal “representation” without context? That’s below this well-thought-out show’s writers.

I keep coming back to the wording.

"Would-be-princesses" - plural, derogatory (as in aspiring to be, but not one) "Another prince" - single, specific

[Note: I saw some people posting that the timeline name of Mobius "Don" means 'prince', but couldn't find that specific definition myself in any online dictionary/baby names site. Best definition I could find was "brown, chief, noble" over on Wikipedia, so for now let's refrain from that specific definiton and focus on what is given to us plain and straight. I'll make this note make sense in the end of this analysis.]

Or could it be perhaps to give them a common ground to stand on? Nope. They don’t stand on that common ground, not even for a minute.

A drink. (Ding ding ding!!!!)

Yes, a drink. When he gets that drink, he sings an Asgaridan (well, Norwegian) song:

In storm-blackened mountains, I wander alone

Across glaciers, I travel forth

In the apple orchard the fair maiden stands

And sings, "When will you come home?"

When she sings, she sings, "Come home."

So who’s the maiden exactly? Loki dedicates the song to Sylvie, but never says it was specifically written for a romantic love interest. Not gonna lie, I might be reaching here, but hear me out: the lyrics can go both ways. They talked about their mother and how Sylvie barely remembers hers. So, Loki, as he is, sings about a traveller coming home to a maiden, possibly his mother or lover, depending on the context at which the song is directed towards.

The only time we see Loki truly helpless against the world is when he mourns his mother. The purest form of love he has ever received, gone. Upon their conversation with Sylvie about what “love” is, Loki disagrees with it being mischief itself, instead takes time and a couple drinks and sings about a fair maiden- his mother calling him home. That is the only type of love he has truly ever felt for another.

Now imagine singing a song about your mother to another variant of yourself. Mommy issues much? Sure. Bad way to flirt? Absolutely. He basically shows Sylvie what he thinks love means to him, but also establishing a connection with Sylvie based on HIS mindset: They are the same. No matter what the maiden represents, a romantic interest or love for a mother, these two variants are of the same kind in the end.

“No. Terrible metaphor.” Sylvie says. Fast forward to 3 episodes later in s1e6 she drops the dagger she holds on Loki’s throat and proceeds to kiss him, says they’re not the same and kicks him back into the TVA.

Being a Loki is not about being a villain and losing every time, it’s about surviving. To survive, they must adapt and adapting they do. They hold hands in s1e4 and a nexus event begins. A Loki, a so-called villain, in league with another Loki. No mischief, just loving each other- by each other by this point I’m talking about THEM as ONE. They easily could’ve kissed right then if their relationship was romantic, but they didn’t. They love themselves in that moment of an approaching apocalypse.

“But I’m not you.” – As the track “Stop” plays.- [The Sylki track that also played in the scene mentioned in the previous panel.]

Loki just wants Sylvie to be okay. He wants his inner mischievous giant to be okay. He wants his inner self to be okay. But Sylvie refuses this. She kisses him BECAUSE she refuses the fact that they can ever be the same or view love the same way. To Sylvie, love is very much real in the shape of a dagger, yet she drops it to the ground, then kisses Loki. Sylvie shows Loki that love is not what Loki thinks it is.

Love is not what Loki thinks it is.

Reality isn't what you think it is. -Loki to Mobius in s2e5

Fast forward to s2e5. Loki is in conflict with himself. – Thus, time slipping.

Everyone is sent back to their HOMES. Loki remains at the TVA when others are back in their original timelines- except Sylvie. She sees that McDonalds life as her home. So, that means, these people were sent to when and where they belonged before the TVA, or in case of Loki and Sylvie their respected new homes- also giving purpose to their belonging to that place- the when, where and why.

In Loki's mind, Mobius's home IS the TVA, his purpose, his 'glorious purpose' if you will. He searches around the TVA where him and Mobius spent their time pacing around or just sitting down to have a key lime pie.

Sylvie says that they are, in fact, Lokis of the same nature.

The acceptance.

Then it turns out it wasn’t about when, where or why. It’s about WHO. Loki could never have that drink because these two variants of the same species, Loki and Sylvie, are on different paths of life and love. Their roads have crossed but went their separate ways in the end.

Home.

It's about who, right? Loki could have found himself beside Sylvie in the McDonald's, easily, if he actually saw her as home. But no. He remained in the TVA, where Mobius once called home- which apparently he does too now. He belongs in the TVA with Mobius and their friends, with or without Sylvie.

This brings us to the smoking love shaped gun.

"Must've been would-be-princesses or perhaps, another prince."

"Love is... uh, something I might have to have another drink to think about."

2 people close to him offered him the drink he's yet to enjoy: Sylvie and Mobius.

The would-be-princess and the other prince.

"It's about who." Loki says, looking directly at Mobius.

He chooses the prince.

He makes it known to Sylvie at the very end of the episode, slowly turning to her: "I can rewrite the story."

He found his purpose in Mobius. He is the "who" that'll help him rewrite the story of time. He is home.

.

Thank you for sticking around till the end of this one. I appreciate any corrections/reminders of what I've missed or got wrong.

[sailorshadzter]

something quick!! cause ive been thinking about THEM A LOT HEHEHE.

They talk until the sun comes up.

Though Jon begs for her to retire, to tuck herself beneath the furs he offers, she shakes her head- perhaps out of fear, or perhaps out of joy. In those first few hours that pass since their reunion, she cannot bear to separate herself from this single man, from the only family she has left in this world. She cannot bear to unwrap his fur cloak from her shoulders and slip away, perhaps only to wake in the morning to be alone once more.

And so, together they sit tucked away into the rooms he’s slept in all these years, just an arm’s length apart, her smile shy and his gray eyes as stoic as she recalls them to be. They talk of it all- of his time in the Night’s Watch, of his regret of not heading South to save their father, of not joining Robb in hopes of protecting him from his untimely fate. She tells him of the abuse she once suffered in King’s Landing, of watching their father’s head bounce on the ground, of her clothes being cut away before all of the court. She can’t yet bring herself to speak of the other horrors- the ones she suffered in their childhood home, inside of Winterfell. “It was that awful Lord Slynt that did it,” she whispers, recalling as well as ever the sight of the ugly man forcing her father down to his knees, holding him there. Jon’s eyes widen, his heart skipping a beat. “He held father down so Ser Ilyn could take his head.” Her eyes are wide and glossy, her rosy lips curving with a frown; in that moment, he can picture her as she must have been that day- a naive girl full of hope, that in the end, all would work out as it was meant to. Instead, Sansa had been made to watch their father have his head struck from his neck in the most gruesome of ways, to witness the blood splatter the concrete, to watch it bounce until it lay still at the feet of the men who took it so easily. 

Now he only wishes he’d made the man suffer more.

“I took his head myself,” Jon says quietly, twisting his hands in his lap. 

She looks up, surprised, but a smile takes root, once which he’s certain he’s never seen before. “I dreamed a hero would do such a thing,” she admits without blushing, reaching for his twisted hands, calming them there in his lap. She’s thinking of those stories she’s long since left behind, the ones she believed could never come true, the ones which she wishes she never bothered to believe in. Someone who is brave and gentle and strong. Her father’s words come so suddenly she’s shocked by them, drawing her hand away from Jon’s as if struck by lightning. 

“I should have come for you,” he whispers, his most prominent of regrets. 

Again she’s smiling, shaking her head. “You’re here now,” she says as if this were enough, and in truth, it was. Even if they could never return home, even if this was all they had left for the rest of their lives, it would always be enough. “And I am better off for it.” She cannot imagine what would become of her if Jon were not alive, if Jon were not here now. This time it is Jon reaching for her, hesitantly, as if he worries what his touch, a man’s touch, might do to her at this moment. But she knows she is safe, she is loved, and she does not shy away from his touch. Not now, not ever. 

“Aye… As am I…” He murmurs, tightening his grip on her hand, marveling at how perfectly hers fit within his. In truth, in the lingering days since his resurrection, he’s found little reason to be as he was now… That was until her arrival. Just like that, with just her arrival, his life has found some sort of meaning once more. The dark world in which he’s been living is once more full of vibrant color. Though he once thought he’d be better off dead, he’s thankful to once more draw the breath of a living man. “I’ll keep you safe,” he reminds her and she squeezes his hand, a silent answer. 

“I know,” she says, something like a promise.

[vodika-vibes]

Because I can’t help myself. Requesting from Best Friends to Lovers prompts. With hesitant Darman. 🫠

“I can’t imagine being with anyone but you” with “I’ve wanted this forever”. Or two separate fics. I won’t mind if it’s two separate fics. 😉

You know you’re quickly becoming the unofficial official writer for our favorite Republic Commandos. ❤️

One More is Never Enough

Summary: Darman asks you on a date.

Pairing: Darman Skirata x Reader

Word Count: 763

Warnings: None

A/N: Sorry this took so long, my perfectionism kept telling me that what I was writing wasn't good enough. I think I'm happy with this one though. I think. I also haven't finished my coffee, so who knows. You said you were having a Time™️, so I hope this helps, at least a little.

Divider by Saradika

Of all of the things you hate most in the world, paperwork is the top of the pile. Followed closely by inventory and getting shots. Which is why you’re glowering at the towered stack of flimsy on your desk.

Just because you’re good at paperwork, doesn’t necessarily mean that you want to do the paperwork.

“Why?” You ask the room at large, not expecting an answer.

You flip through some of the flimsy, and your scowl deepens. Some of this paperwork doesn’t even belong to you.

“Ah, you’re back.” You jump when you hear Darman behind you, and you whirl around to glare at him, “Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you.”

“What the hell is this?” You demand, gesturing at the desk and the stacked flimsy.

Darman glances at the paperwork, and he makes a face. “It was your supervisor's idea, not mine.” He replies immediately, “Everyone else is getting started on inventory, so they left their paperwork to you.”

Your jaw drops and you’re torn between screaming and cursing up a storm. 

Darman slowly, and hesitantly, places some more paperwork on your desk, “Sorry.” He says sheepishly as you turn a furious glare onto him, “In my defense, this is yours. It was left on the printer.”

You snatch the top piece of paper off the stack and glare at it, and then your shoulders slump. He’s right. Not only is he right, you’ve been looking for these documents for the better part of an hour.

“I don’t want to be here all night doing paperwork.” You whine, turning a petulant pout onto Darman as though he’ll help you. And you’re surprised when he averts his gaze and rubs the back of his neck.

“I mean…I can stay and help, if you want?” He offers, “Maybe…maybe after we get dinner though.”

You beam at him, “Darman Skirata! Are you asking me on a date?” You ask gleefully.

“Um…I mean, if you want…?” He offers in return, still not really looking at you.

“Of course I’d like to go on a date with you!” You reply, “I’ve wanted that forever!”

He blinks at you, “You have?”

And you sigh. “Apparently my flirting was a bit too subtle.”

“You were flirting with me? When?”

“Like, every day since they say we met?”

“...where was I when this was happening?” Darman asks.

“Apparently not there.” You counter, slightly sarcastically.

He laughs nervously, “Sorry, mesh’la. I guess it was just a little too subtle?”

“It’s alright. Apparently most people are really bad at recognizing flirting.” You admit as you finally drop the documents back on the table and hurry to his side. “So,” You say as you beam at him, “Where are we going for food?”

“There’s a little sandwich shop not far from here,” Darman offers, The food is good and cheap.”

“Good and cheap is my favorite!” You lightly wrap your hands around his arm and tug him out of the office. And he follows you willingly.

You don’t quite make it to the sandwich shop before Darman tugs you into a small alley, and lightly sets his hand on your shoulder. He looks nervous, but also determined.

“Darman?” You ask, as you look up at him. 

“I…um…” He pauses, as he tries to gather his thoughts, “I just wanted some time with you without having to deal with other people…or work.” Darman says slowly.

You smile up at him, soft and sweet and painfully fond. “You could have asked, darling.”

“I know. I just…I…” He shakes his head, and his hand moves from your shoulder to brush lightly against your cheek, “I can’t imagine being with anyone but you.” He whispers.

Your face heats with slightly flustered embarrassment, but you’re unable to look away from him. There’s something in his gaze that speaks of adoration and worship and your stomach flips with a nervous excitement. 

“Mesh’la,” His voice is a low rumble that causes shivers to run down your spine, “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.” You say, quickly enough that it would have been embarrassing if this was anyone other than Darman.

His smile is warm as he leans in and gently brushes his lips against yours. It’s not the deep, passionate kiss that you were expecting. But it was so tender that you couldn’t help but lean into him to try and get more. 

Darman’s hands settle on your hips, and you release a soft sigh, “Again?” You ask, your voice plaintive. 

His hands are warm against your cheeks, “As you wish,” He whispers as he leans in for a second kiss.

[hearthspeaker]

Robin Wall Kimmerer's The Serviceberry: Abundance and Reciprocity in the Natural World has been my lullaby the past couple of nights. It's a quick read but left me with a lot of thoughts. I had to write them down.

I have yet to read a work of Robin’s that I did not appreciate. The Serviceberry, however, is a bit more uncomfortable than her previous books. Not uncomfortable in a bad way, per se, but it brings to the surface of our consciousness the many ways we as humans have dug ourselves into disconnection. Culturally, we have become so detached that even a “nature lover” like me finds it difficult to look at the gift economy, which The Serviceberry illustrates, without a degree of cynical skepticism. It has me wondering, is a gift economy even possible? Are people, from those who buy brand new Christmas decorations every year, to those that revert sacred land agreements in the name of economic expansion, really capable of treating a gift economy with the respect it would require to function? With hope, I wonder if those people (and the pieces of myself I see reflected within them) have solely become the way they are as a side effect of the machine we live in. Would they not exist within that mindset if it were not for our systems of disconnection that have long been in place? And if not, how did the system originate? It is hard, as an American, to even imagine what the other side of anthropocentrism would look like on a cultural scale. 

It also trudges up questions of how capitalism feels beneficial to us. Despite knowing the diversion it causes, it seems scary to let go of. To call it comfortable may be a stretch for many, but familiar certainly fits. Capitalism promises us opportunity. In the systems available on a global scale, it is special to be able to create your own profession, especially one that exists on the cultural periphery, even if the promised opportunities for doing so are limited. It also feels special to swing by a coffee shop to pick up an iced coffee with raspberry syrup you can’t find anywhere else. Little treat culture has its hand on my heart. But are little treats an attempt to fill the void of our disconnection? Would we even desire little treats if we were continually recognizing life itself as the greatest gift that can be given? And it is given. Over and over and over again. We owe our whole lives to this fact. 

So how do we heal the rift we’ve created? Kimmerer offers grassroots solutions. Within our own communities, we can recognize the gifts we have to share. When we have more than we need, pass something along. This can exist within capitalism, and in spite of it. Perhaps big problems don’t always need big solutions. If we emulate nature’s economy - gift giving - within our own lives, within our small circles, perhaps the circles will radiate forever outwards, like the ripple created by a pebble dropped in a pond. Perhaps we can find our mirror, as Robin draws the comparison, in rapid growth after ecological disaster - like a wildfire, for example. Scrub trees and other fast growing plants come in to quickly colonize the area, but are later replaced and pushed out by the species designed to stay. In that sense, perhaps we are in a phase of mandatory learning. Perhaps, in Earth’s time, our systems divorced from nature will soon be replaced by something meant to stay.  

[lesbianandstressing]

His legacy | A station 19 fanfiction

Summary: It’s Thanksgiving at station 19, and it’s been a couple weeks since Dean Miller passed away. Maya bonds with her teammates daughter, reminiscing about her fallen friend.

A/N: This is a rewrite of the scenes with Pru and Maya in the Thanksgiving episode. Although it is not canon, I imagine Maya to be very natural with kids, and this is the result. Warning that there is mention of Dean’s death, and dying in the line of duty. Happy reading!

-

“Well, I guess it’s just you and me, kid.” Maya murmurs, carrying Pru up to the lounge.

Maya settles Pru down on the couch, sitting down next to her. However, Pru climbs off the couch, going to the piano. Maya joins her.

“You know, your daddy used to play this piano.” Maya remarks. Pru looks up at her, her chocolate brown eyes filled with curiosity. “He did?”

Maya nods in confirmation. “He did. It was soothing and beautiful, especially during long shifts. I’m sure you’re just as amazing as he was.”

Maya is never going to get used to talking about Dean in past tense. She still can’t believe he’s gone. She wasn’t as close with him as Jack or Vic, but he was still her colleague, teammate, friend, and brother.

“I miss daddy.” Pru murmurs. Maya’s heart breaks. A little girl, so innocent, so young, has lost her dad to the cruel fate of death. Being firefighters, death can come at anytime. But you never think about that until it happens to one of your own.

“I miss him too, baby.” The pet name slips out before Maya can stop it. She settles Pru onto her lap, hugging the little girl tightly to her chest. “I loved your daddy. And I love you.”

Pru snuggles into her chest. “I wuv you too.”

Maya moves them over to the couch, with Pru still in her lap. Pru eventually falls asleep in her arms, and that’s when Maya lets the tears silently fall.

Dean Miller is dead. He died in a freak explosion, leaving behind his daughter, who is barely two years old. Vic almost died, both at the scene and in the hospital.

Maya can’t help but wonder what this could entail for her. How could she have kids with Carina without the intense, raging fear that she could suddenly die, and leave her child behind. More than fear of becoming her father, that is the fear that is holding her back.

Ben enters the lounge, and concern fills his features immediately. “Hey, what’s going on?”

“How do you do it, Ben?” Maya asks brokenly, her voice hushed as to not wake the sleeping girl in her arms. “Do what?” He questions gently.

“Live with the fear that you might not come home to Joey and Tuck, and now Pru. That you might leave Miranda as a single mother. How do you do it?” Maya replies.

Ben sighs. “I don’t know how I do it. Because Dean passing has proven that no matter how careful you are, as long as your running into active fires, this job can kill you. But living with that fear? You live with it. It’s exactly what you do. And you fight as hard as your body will let you. When you get injured, you rest and take breaks, and make sure your body is at it’s best before you go back to work.” He explains.

“I’m so afraid to have kids with Carina. Because a little girl’s dad died and now she won’t get to grow up with him. I would never forgive myself if I put Carina in that position.” Maya confesses.

“I get that. But Maya, you need to understand that having kids is the greatest blessing. They will become your entire world, and make life even more worth living. You can’t let the fear of death get in the way of that.” Ben encourages.

“Thank you, Ben.” Maya smiles, wiping her tears. “I can take her now, if you like.” He offers, but Maya shakes her head. “I got her.”

Maya continues to hold a sleeping Pru in her lap, and Carina makes her way into the lounge.

“Aww, bambina. That is precious.” She coos, sitting down next to the pair. “Carina…this is part of the reason why I’m so afraid to have kids with you. Because a little girl’s father died, and it proves that no matter how careful you are, this job can kill you. It’s why I still want to be captain so badly. Because if I’m captain, I’m much less likely to be running into active fires on every scene.” Maya explains.

Carina nods sympathetically, moving closer to Maya without disturbing Pru. “I completely understand that bambina. And trust me, I live with that fear every shift. Losing you would absolutely break me, Maya. But I’ve come to realize that we can all die at anytime. Death is always there. Yes, being a firefighter or even a police officer makes that risk more likely, but you can’t let it run your life. You just have to live.”

Maya leans into Carina, kissing her softly. “Let’s have a baby.” Carina pulls back, looking at her wife, somewhat shocked. “Really?” Maya nods. “Yes. Despite all my fears, holding a little you…thinking about that? It nearly makes my heart implode with excitement. So yes, let’s have a baby.”

Carina grins, tears in her eyes, before kissing Maya passionately. They both feel like it’s going to turn into something more, but Maya pulls back. “Ok, I know we are both excited, but I am still at work, this is still a common area, and I currently have a sleeping child on my lap.” Maya chuckles. Carina rolls her eyes playfully, choosing to snuggle into Maya instead.

“I love you so much bambina. And I can’t wait for our journey to continue.” Carina whispers.

Maya nods, her eyes full of tears at how lucky she is to call this incredible woman her wife.

“I love you too, babe.”

-

A/N: Thank you so much for reading! Comments appreciated :)

[the12thnightproject]

Chapter 41: Miles to Go Before I Sleep. Katsu and Yukimura set off to look for Toshiie, and try to convince themselves they’ve done the right thing. Also... Katsu gives Yukimura advice on women.

Shingen x OC; Kenshin x MC (Mai)

Previous Chapter: Here

Logline - Disguised as a boy, Katsuko finds herself working for Shingen, but her dangerous masquerade becomes difficult to sustain when she falls for the man with a fatal secret.

“What the hell did you guys just do?”

Maybe it was my imagination, but Mai’s question felt like it echoed in the quiet temple. What the hell did we just do? Saved his life, saved his life, saved his life. Was that the answer? Or a mantra? Please, let them be able to save his life. What if all we had done was send him to a new world where he would die alone?

“It was necessary. Sasuke will take him to a healer in your time, and they will cure him.” Kenshin spoke firmly, as if no modern doctor would dare fail in that task, or Kenshin would hop into the next wormhole and stab them in retaliation.

“Cure… of what?” Mai turned to me. She’d not only been kept out of our plans – she hadn’t even known they were necessary.

“I don’t know. He was dying. He told me he didn’t believe he would s-s-survive…” I took a deep breath. “Survive past this winter.” Honestly, I couldn’t talk, or even think about it any longer, so I gave Mai an apologetic smile, made an excuse about wanting to check on my horse, and went outside. Kenshin or Yuki could explain it to her.

Once outside, I ignored the muzzling rain and buried my face in Moonlight’s neck. Up until that last moment, I had hoped that one or all of us would call it off, or that Shingen would change his mind and volunteer to go to the future. But the look of shocked betrayal on his face, and Mai’s horrified What the hell did you guys just do, was playing like a skipping record in my mind. I had no way of turning it off. It would likely loop all the way to Ikuno.

“Katsu?” I lifted my head to see Yuki standing there, looking about as uncomfortable as I had ever seen him. “Aw geez, you aren’t crying, are you?”

Was I? I brushed my hand across my face. “It’s the rain.” Who was he to sound so horrified over a few tears when his own eyes were wet? “What?”

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Nothing. I wanted to make sure you hadn’t up and left for Ikuno.”

Oh. Actually, I’d probably been about ten minutes away from reaching the conclusion that I could just leave. I gave him as much of a smile as I could manage. “Well, to quote Sasuke, there was a nonzero chance of that happening, but I won’t leave without saying goodbye.”

He scrubbed his hands through his hair so that it stood on end. “Kenshin and Mai will be out in a moment. We can say goodbye to them then.”

“Alrigh- what?” We? Them? Did I hear that right?

“He’s going to be mad enough at me enough already. There’s no way I will let Shingen’s woman travel alone to Ikuno.” It was said in a casual tone of voice, but the set of his shoulders told me I shouldn’t argue.

Even so, I put up a token protest. “I can take care of myself.” I could. However, to be honest, I felt torn between wanting to stew in private misery and wanting company to keep me from doing just that.

“I know. You don’t have to. Besides -.” He looked over his shoulder to where Mai and Kenshin were emerging from the temple, looking like they were a single unit unto themselves. “The last thing I want is to be the odd man out on their trip home.”

Hm, ok, yeah. Yukimura trapped for four days with Kenshin and Mai without the mitigating presence of Sasuke was a stabbing incident in the making.         

Mai hurried over to me and I braced myself for a lecture. “I’m not sure I agree with what you did.”

Fair point, given I wasn’t convinced it had been right either.

“But I can’t say that I wouldn’t have done the same thing, if I were in your shoes, so I understand.” She hugged me, and I imagined that she was also offering a shoulder to cry on, if I wanted.

I didn’t want that though. If I allowed myself to cry, to really cry, I might not be able to stop. So, I stepped out of her embrace and simply thanked her.

Kenshin convinced us (translation, at sword point) to get a few hours of sleep before setting off, pointing out that we’d be safer travelling in daylight. Yukimura and I reluctantly agreed. After a few hours of fitful sleep at a posting inn on the outskirts of Kyoto, and one last morning ‘kill,’ I was more than ready to get on the road.

As shattered as I still felt at saying goodbye to Shingen in such a manner, there was, behind that sadness, anticipation of the reunion with my brother. For the first three quarters of my life, he had been my other half, the person who could always be counted on to balance me out, the one person I didn’t need to tell anything to, because he’d been there through all of it. Now that we’d missed six and a half years of each other’s lives, would we still have that connection?

“Safe journeys, Katsuko,” Kenshin said. “I hope you find your brother in good health. He is as welcome in Kasugayama as you are.”

Well. That was an interesting idea. I imagined that Toshiie would be in sheer bliss, surrounded by all that beefcake in the castle. “Thank you. But you can’t kill him. Toshiie is a healer, not a fighter.” At least the Toshiie of my memory had been. But I wasn’t the same person I had been seven years ago – I wasn’t even the same person I had been that day seven weeks ago, when I shot the sniper out of the tree. Therefore, I shouldn’t freeze my brother in time either.

Kenshin scowled. “He must train to fight. It is a necessary skill.” He looked ready rhapsodize on the issue, but Yuki stepped in and reminded him that we needed to get going if we were going to reach Ikuno in another three days.

Without any additional fanfare, Yuki and I set off. Behind us, I heard Mai suggesting that since they were so close to Azuchi, they should drop in on Nobunaga so she could say hello to her friends. We encouraged our horses into a trot, neither of us wanting to be anywhere near Azuchi if Mai succeeded in convincing him that was a good idea.

Yukimura proved to be a good traveling companion. Though I at first had resented the thought of company, Yuki was the type to stay quiet unless he had something worth saying. He would occasionally point out something or someone interesting along the route and he had a knack for befriending other travelers to the point where they would tell him their entire life history. It was a useful talent to have – I imagined that Aki would have enjoyed having him as one of his scouts.

“What’s so funny?” Yuki asked me, on the third evening of our journey, when we had stopped to camp for the night.

I handed him a bowl of rice, then found a log near the fire to sit on while I waited for the tea water to boil.

“I was just thinking that my previous employer would have appreciated your um, people skills.” Then, because he looked a little confused at that, I added. “Basically, I was admiring your ability to talk to anyone, no matter what their station in life.”

“Any man,” Yuki corrected, with his mouth full. Ok, yeah, his table manners might be a little rough (and Aki... would likely have called him feral). “I can’t talk to women, remember?”

Would it be worth pointing out the obvious? Reminding Yuki of my gender when I was dressed as Katsu might actually prove his point, so I approached the issue from another angle. “So, when you talk to a woman, pretend you’re talking to man.”

Once again, he roughed up his hair with his hands. I could always tell where Yuki’s emotions stood, just by looking at the top of his head. “Yeah, yeah sure. If I wanted to have a conversation. I’m terrible at flirting – and I hate it anyway, so why bother?”

“Conversation is really important Yuki.” The tea water was finally boiling, so I got up to prepare a couple cups. “If you prefer to just talk, I guarantee lots of women would be happy with that.”

That comment was rewarded with a patented Yukimura Eyeroll (TM). “Yeah. Right. Hard to take your word for that. You’re with one of the biggest flirts in the country.”

Was this some kind of Sengoku era Godwin’s Law where all conversation inevitably returned to Shingen? “Well, that’s a bug, not a feature.”

 “Katsu, please don’t think you have to take Sasuke’s place by making weird comments… Thanks,” he added when I handed him a cup of tea.

“Aw. So I shouldn’t call you bestie?” I plopped back down opposite him.

 “Please don’t.” He sipped at the tea, and when he didn’t wince, I figured I had remembered how he liked it. “What did you mean about the bugs?”

I thought back. “Oh. The flirting thing. I fell for Shingen because of how he treated me when he thought I was boy.” His kindness… the way he took me seriously… the way he helped me after I had killed the sniper… the way we could just… talk.

“Huh.” I could tell that Yuki didn’t believe me, but I didn’t plan to go into any more detail, so that was that. “And, not that I was around for any of it,” a fact that I was really grateful for, “but I cannot imagine that Kenshin flirted with Mai.”

“No. He threw her in the dungeon.” He rolled his eyes again (a sentiment I agreed with one hundred percent).

Ugh. Right. She’d mentioned that. “See. No flirting. Although I wouldn’t recommend imprisonment as an effective romantic tool. Everyone is different.”

Yuki kicked his feet in the dirt in front of him. “Where do the bugs come into it?”

I sighed. “Well, probably you’re going to need to find the girl who understands that when you put a bug down the back of her kimono, you’re actually telling her that you think she’s cute.”

He threw a twig at me. “I wouldn’t do anything like that.”

“If you say so.” Anyway, I imagined that if Yuki ever found a woman he wanted to pursue, he would figure it out, or… er….. huh. “When you meet the girl of your dreams, come and ask me, or Mai for help, ok?” Between the two of us, we’d make sure he didn’t torpedo the relationship before it set sail.

“Yeah. Alright.” Sounded like he didn’t think such a girl existed anyway.

“We’ll sort you out.” Or. Mai would, if I wasn’t around any longer.

He was quiet a long time, and we sat there listening to the cicadas buzzing and the wind rattling the trees. “First or second watch?” he eventually asked.

“Second, unless you are really tired.” On our first night after leaving Kasugayama, Yuki had had the watch immediately after mine, and I nearly had to dump a bucket of water over his head to wake him up.

What the hell did you guys just do?

What the hell did you guys just do?

Kaya, it was too late – you just cursed him to die alone… as will you. You’re a tool that has outlived its usefulness. No use yelling. This time there’s no one around to hear you.

My hands pounded on the side of the crate, fingers scrabbling at the splintering wood. Without seeing it, I knew the sides of my coffin would be smeared with blood.

I kicked and pounded at the sides of the crate, yelling for someone to hear me.

“Katsu! Katsu! Wake up, damn it!”

Clearing the border between sleep and awake in seconds, I sat up. “What? Are we under attack?” I reached to grab my dagger from where it was sitting next to my bedroll and discovered a fistful of twigs and leaves was already in my hand.

 “No. Shit. You were making so much noise I thought you were the one being attacked.” His face shadowed by lantern light, Yuki rocked back on his heels and raked his hand through his hair. It was at critical mass. I must have scared the crap out of him.

 “Sorry,” I mumbled. “I have bad dreams sometimes.”

Yuki awkwardly patted my shoulder. “Unless you, um, need a hug.” His tone of voice pleaded for me to not need a hug.

 “I’m ok. Thanks. It’s probably time to switch out anyway.” I scrubbed the sand out of my eyes.

 “Yeah.” He looked away while I got out of the bedroll, a polite, but unnecessary gesture, as I was fully dressed.

“Yuki?” Maybe it wasn’t worth asking his opinion, but the dream had left me rattled. Iekane always left me rattled, even if the dream Iekane was only a product of my subconscious. “Did we do the right thing?”

Again, the hands went through the hair. He was likely to be bald by the time we got to Ikuno if he kept that up. “Shit. Yes. We had a good reason. That counts, right?”

Yeah, but that thought wasn’t keeping the nightmares away.

But he wasn’t finished speaking. “We did it. There’s no use thinking about it now.” He sighed. “As long as we’re both awake, why don’t we just get an early start?”

Maybe I should have objected – he hadn’t had a chance to sleep… but I wanted to see my brother, so without another word, I nodded and packed up my stuff.

Thanks to decent weather and no sudden obstacles, we made it to Ikuno late that afternoon. Ikuno was a small mining town – small enough that I only needed to ask one person where to find the Healer, in order to be pointed to a small house on the outskirts of town.

In my head, I was chanting, please be the right person, please be the right person as we approached. A woman was gardening out front. When she saw us, she dropped her spade and put her hand to her chest. She jumped to her feet and rushed inside.

This can’t be good. Moments later, a man rushed out of the house, musket in hand. He stared into the road, and raised the gun, pointing it right at us.

@bestbryn

[platonic-qpr-selfshipping]

When teasing goes a bit too far [Letter 1]

Selfship: Asra and N (queerplatonic)

Words: 0.6k

Summary: N's letter for Asra to read at their wedding.

Notes: kshdjbjhskhkns not the first time I've written a letter to him. I got a habit of relying on them since years ago

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | Letter 1 | Letter 2 | Epilogue

“Dear Asra,

I would have never imagined that one of these letters would end up becoming what you’ll read at our wedding. Hello. How is the wedding going? You better have brought that chocolate cake you promised me. And I hope you don’t read this out loud, that would be too embarrassing. Please, do not read this out loud. I don’t think I’m close enough with some of our possible guests to have them know all that has been going on inside my head while I write this to you. I don’t even know where to start.

We found each other so many years ago and in such a casual way that I don’t think I remember it that well. We started to meet more often over time, and got to know each other thanks to that. I’m so grateful for it. I’m so grateful to have you. I can’t think of a time where I thought I couldn’t rely on you and, even if the path ahead of me seemed too dark to realise so, you still were there. You received my letters, gave me alone time when I asked for it and hugs when I needed it the most. You’ve seen me grow and learn, and you’ve been so accepting of me throughout the way that you’re making me even look forward to the scary future if it means I get to spend it with you. I don’t think I’ll find enough words to write all you’ve meant and mean to me.

Thank you for offering me a safe space besides Faust and you. There’s nothing like going to sleep by your side after a hard day, and your words and affection always seem to be exactly what I need. Gosh, I’m sobbing a bit right now. Don’t mind me if the paper gets a bit dirty or something with a few tears. You’ve been with me through so many things that trying to look back feels like telling the story of a whole life. A life that has been better since you appeared in it.

And now we are here. We are getting married. Who would have thought? I’m still getting emotional remembering the way you said yes, and the way your eyes were overcome with surprise when I asked you to marry me. Writing those words feel like a dream. You really are marrying me, huh? With all I am? All this chaos, specific needs and a few changes you’ve seen over the years? Would you really like to continue by my side, especially like this, as we discover more about ourselves and the world together? Sometimes, when I’m overwhelmed with doubt, looking at your eyes seems to be enough to ground myself. But I can’t do that as I’m writing this, this is supposed to be a secret until the important day. So I just got to imagine that sweet smile of yours, your soft way to hold my hand that I adore and a few reassuring words I know you would say. And let me tell you some back this time, too: I love you, you amazing magician who helps me appreciate life better. I love the way you speak and laugh, your passion for travelling and doing your best for those you care about. It’s hard to imagine how I would have gotten through many days without you, or how I would even be now if you hadn’t been there helping me and trusting my abilities and decisions. Thank you so much. I just love you so much. I really, really hope you are not reading this out loud. 

Your fiancé (soon to be spouse),

-N”

[daz4i]

ok. a post to brainstorm doa chuuya bc i gave myself mild brainrot over it just by putting those words together

if any detail in this post inspires you to make art or write a fic please on god tag me if you post it or send it to me 👀👉👈

so. i have a few ideas and unfortunately i can’t quite get them to gel together into one, so i may as well list them all

the mentor fukuchi option

fukuchi got him out of the research facility around the time he was 14-15ish, and, well. mentored him - taught him to fight and basically put in his head all these ideas about unifying the world

i imagine chuuya would be loyal to him, but still somewhat suspicious, esp when he can’t remember his past. speaking of

the bait option

idk if bait is quite the right word? but, like. the way sigma is kept in the doa - he’s promised something he simply can’t say no to. and that thing is information about his past, kept by fyodor who gives him small bits after every mission he completes - just enough to keep him going, but not enough to make him feel fulfilled and want to leave

i’m not sure where this would fit with the timing in his life, but i assume he gets to be in the sheep here, but not with the mafia. do the events of 15 simply not happen? does he simply say no to mori’s offer? maybe fyodor meets him on that cliff before he gets to dazai. idk.

i lied when i said there are a few ideas btw i think i only have these two. anyway the real interesting part isn’t the how and why but rather what he’ll be like when interacting with the members and such. starting with the simplest and getting more complicated as i go

(also an important detail i can’t seem to find a place to fit, but i assume the doa will have the means to nullify arahabaki before it kills chuuya, given how fukuchi has ties not only with the government but also the un, and given how meursault has cells that nullify abilities, one can assume such technology exists and in which case there’s no reason for the doa not to get their hands on it. also as i typed this i remembered sigma has this nullifying gun iirc. so they probably just have more and this is how they get arahabaki down when they need to. or maybe it’s implemented in him somehow, like they can remotely activate smth that’s constantly on him coughchokercough and “turn off” arahabaki without getting near him)

bram

yeah no he doesn’t know about his existence. at least not at first? in the mentor fukuchi option i’m sure fukuchi will show him bram at some point, right before the time of the doa’s introduction in the main story. in this case, i feel like chuuya would honestly feel a sense of kinship with bram, both kind of used as a weapon of mass destruction, except unlike bram he can leave if he wants to (but... can he really? a bit harsh to think about, so he doesn’t like, go out of his way to interact with him)

sigma

“oh my god. another sane person. thank you”

like bram, def a lot of sense of kinship here, but more about the “i only remember the last few years of my life” thing. i feel like they could actually be friends even beyond that, tho. they’re really similar in a lot of ways and they could def bond over it, and i think having someone like chuuya around would make sigma feel better about the whole thing, which i think will make him even deadlier, more desperate to stay in this place he calls home. also, chuuya could back him up in the casino arc, and. um. yeah the hunting dogs will not survive that one

nikolai

nikolai finds out chuuya can technically fly and loses his shit. chuuya will become his new favorite person (but like, the way sigma is, not the way fyodor is). chuuya does not like that to say the least, but he does like to train with him sometimes bc nikolai can help him hone his reflexes

eventually nikolai would get tired of him tho imo? at least in the pre-canon part. chuuya would just be annoyed with his antics, no surprises, and it’ll get boring for nikolai. then he’ll find out abt the arahabaki thing and immediately chuuya is the most interesting person in the world again. he will definitely try to get him to use it constantly. he would love arahabaki sm.

during the actual story tho, after nikolai defects, i imagine he’ll want to free chuuya too. maybe he’ll steal his choker at some point, store it in his overcoat. “prove your free will by possibly be willing to die if you let arahabaki run loose” sort of thing, but actually it’s secretly “don’t be confined by what fyodor and fukuchi are doing to you. be your own person. never use arahabaki if you don’t want to”

fyodor

definitely the one holding the metaphorical leash over him, and chuuya knows it, and hates it. if we go by the “fyodor coming to recruit him at the end of 15′s events” route, he’ll hate how much the guy reminds him of dazai. also he thinks he’s creepy. still, he respects his plans, and does as he’s told for now, but he knows damn well not to trust fyodor. i imagine in said recruiting moment fyodor would probably kill some/all of the sheep to give him a sense of helplessness and like he has no other option but to go with him, so naturally chuuya would resent him for that

like p much everyone else, he has no idea what fyodor’s ability is, but he noticed pretty early that fyodor seems unkillable, so he doesn’t even try. something tells him that despite his own immense power, he won’t be able to kill fyodor, so he picks his battles carefully and never even tries (tho, maybe in the future. maybe i could offer more insight once we learn what fyodor’s ability is and what’s the deal with his supposed immortality)

fukuchi

father figure (derogatory)

i kinda of already got into it in the mentor fukuchi option, so as a tldr, chuuya respects him, is loyal to him, but is suspicious of him

however in the other option i feel like the knowledge of fukuchi being a part of a terrorist organization despite his position would kind of make him... bitter? also eternally curious if fukuchi was somehow involved/knew people who were involved in the arahabaki project somehow. he tries to keep his distance from him, just do what he’s told so he can get what he wants, without getting involved with things bigger than him

i imagine if anyone encourages him to use arahabaki a lot - for actual strategical reasons, not like nikolai who mostly thinks it’s cool - it’d be fukuchi (fyodor would not want to rely on smth this chaotic unless there’s no other choice, imo), which would also make chuuya resent him a bit.

also i wonder if fukuchi would ask him to infiltrate the hunting dogs with him in any of these options. could also be interesting, and also oddly fitting tbh.

anyway yeah that’s all i have for you now. would love to hear your own ideas, or takes on what i already wrote here, just be respectful!! and again if any of this inspires you in any way, please share, i would love to see 🥺

[plusreaderswhenever]

Hello again!

Could I trouble you for a Bandana Dee + Reader ficlet? (Same as last time, if you already did it, can you point me towards it?)

Thank you so much in advance! (I still love the Magolor fic you wrote!)

Signed, I need more Bandee fluff

I'm sorry for the wait, I lost my phone right after I wrote most of the fic! I just got it back and finished it, here you go!

Off to Castle Dedede you rushed, an important bag slung over your shoulder. The dark clouds overhead and feeling in the air could only mean one thing- soon it was going to rain and drench all the mail you were carrying! When you took the job to become a mail carrier, you didn’t imagine it would be this perilous.

You sped in through the castle door and it was a good thing you didn’t slow down once since the first signs of rain, because it started pouring instantly once you got in. On the downside, you were exhausted from running at top speed for so long.

You set down your bag to catch your breath and laid on your back next to it. Breathing heavily, you let your muscles relax for now.

It must have been a few minutes, because a certain bandana-wearer carefully crept up to you. “Are you okay?” He asked with concern, standing next to your head so that you could turn your face to him and look him in the eyes because he was a tiny boy. To a human at least.

“Yeah,” you didn’t move from your spot on the floor. “Just needed to rest for a bit. I had to run a lot to get here before the rain.”

He nodded sympathetically, then saw the sack next to you. “Is that a mail bag? I didn’t know you were a mail carrier!”

“Yup! Got the job pretty recently, so it’s no wonder you didn’t know.”

“Oh that makes sense!” He waited for a bit. “Why aren’t you getting up?”

Poor guy looked and sounded so worried, you had to respond as quickly as possible! “Oh- uh- don’t worry! I just, uh… didn’t want to get up.” You got up. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay!”

You concentrated for a second on remembering something you forgot. Oh yeah!

“I’ve still gotta deliver this mail. Where do I put it? I don’t know where the Castle Dedede mailbox is.” 

“Well… the mailbox is outside in the rainstorm… so I’ll just take whatever’s for this place and deliver it myself to everyone here who needs it!” You looked outside at said rainstorm. “Well, I can’t let the rest of the mail get wet, so I’ll have to stay here until it passes. I’ll help you do that, then.” Bandee smiled with his eyes. “Thank you for helping! This way!” You picked up your bag and followed him down the halls. 

You were very fast without even trying, is what most people of this universe would say. He was pretty slow to you due to being so small and not having legs, but you had patience. For a while at least. After the first few deliveries, you offered to pick him up and carry him.

He seemed a little surprised at the thought, and you wondered if you had made him uncomfortable. It turns out, he was just excited about being held by you. You lifted him up and held him in one arm. He was impressed by your strength, but though it was true that big things are generally better at lifting than the smaller things that were abundant here on popstar, he was stronger to be honest. 

Not enough to pick YOU up, but enough to lift things that you couldn’t. It was a bit freakish to you considering he was only a little above eight inches tall. (9 or 10 inches maybe? Taller than Kirby) The people of this world had proved to you before that their weight did not correlate with their strength in the same way humans worked. You picked up King Dedede’s hammer once, and were shocked by how you could barely get it off the floor! King dedede also picked you up (with some difficulty) to show off once, but you could raise Dedede about as high as you wanted! He weighed about as much as a cat though, which is the most heavy anyone here has ever been to you other than Adeline. Most of them were like plushies, such as the dee you held now, but Kirby was light as the spring breeze! It was a wonder he didn’t blow away all the time, but you had learned most things didn’t follow the logic you were used to. Such as how that same Kirby could hold you over his head with zero effort. Apparently his power was infinite in all categories. Most people here couldn’t lift you no matter how hard they tried, though.

You were a little bit wimpy for a human to be honest, but you could still easily hold a lot of little guys, so you were happy with the strength you had.

You carried him through the rest of the deliveries for the castle and went back to the room you ran into when you first got indoors, but it was still pouring hard as ever. You wouldn’t be able to leave and deliver anywhere else anytime soon.

You looked down at the brave warrior nestled adorably in your arms. He looked back, knowing the same thing you just realized. You just stood there in silence for a good second, then asked, “Is there anything I can do?”

Bandee thought for a second. “Well, we can race raindrops on the windows.”

“Good idea.” You went to the nearest window with him in your arms and set down your heavy bag of mail, then sat down facing it, holding Bandee so he could see the window and the water on it as well as you could.

“I pick this one!” He exclaimed, putting his paw/nub/fingerless flap for an arm on the window pointing to a raindrop he liked. “That one.” You smiled, putting a finger on the window pointing to another drop that looked promising to you personally.

His drop was bigger than yours at first, but yours absorbed a lot of other droplets and won! You raised your fist into the air. “Woo!” Bandee took the loss like a champ. “Congrats!”

You continued to race raindrops until you saw the rain stop through the glass and you had to continue on your mail route. You said goodbye to Bandee, promised to meet him again sometime, and gave him one last hug before you went. He waved as you left until you were out of sight. A good day!

[mamuttuth]

So, um, I can’t sleep last night because my mind was occupied with particular thoughts. And, well, I write it.

Hope someone like it or not, it doesn’t really matter now, cause I light my brain pulling it out. So, it a short bkdk story, before their graduation. Idk how to call it. Maybe

Late kitchen talk

Okay, so here it is. If you will have some thoughts, welcome 💬

〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️〰️

It was a peaceful night, the graduation ceremony less than a week now and all students of hero class 3A ready to go into the big world of pro heroes. Their last exams ended yesterday and they all pass it with ease. After so many bumps and tears on their way to become a heroes it was a beautiful calm time where all their troubles now seems like nightmares that are in distant past.

Izuku Midoriya standing alone in a dark dorm kitchen with a mug of warm herbal tea trying to drift himself to sleep. The aromatic drink slowly did its job, relaxing tense body after intensive training. His green emerald eyes look through the kitchen window to the backyard of their dorm without focusing on anything in particular.

A slight rustling caught his attention, he turned his head towards the sound and find the one and only Katsuki Bakugo entering the kitchen with sleepy eyes.

“Hey, Kacchan” he greeted didn’t want to startled him.

“Can’t sleep?” ask the ash blonde moving towards kitchen counter grabbing a mug to pour the water for himself.

“Actually, I just finished my training not so long ago, so, um, getting ready for sleep now” the greenett answer slowly sipping his tea.

“If you want there are some herbal tea in teapot, still warm, probably” he offered the drink to Katsuki.

“I’m good” he politely declined taking a big gulp of water.

“Still training so late, you should know it’s not good for you, nerd. Good rest is also important.” slight concern could be heard in his voice.

Even after those three years in hero course Izuku trained himself twice hard then most of his classmates. Nothing can stop him to become a greatest hero.

“Can’t help it, you know it, Kacchan, like nobody else” the sheepish smile find a way on greenett features. The ash blond with crimson eyes only humms for reply.

They stood in dark kitchen some more in silent until it was broken by the last one.

“What are we?” his voice was quiet like a whisper. It was a random question and Izuku trying to process it turns his head towards Katsuki.

“What do you want us to be?” he questioned him instead of answering.

The ash blonde close his crimson eyes and deep inhale in thoughts. They have a live-long complicated relationship. Bump and rough path. Childhood friends, bully and victim, rivals, and now they are some sort of friends? They both have a strange feeling about each other in their heart, they both sense a deep connection to each other, but they can’t wrap their minds about it. Do they want more than just friendship? Do they want to be a partners? Hero duet? Oh, if that tho they would be unstoppable team. Or maybe just maybe they are both want something more from each other.

“I really don’t freaking know for myself, but I know as heck that I want you in my life. We know each other almost our whole life, I can’t imagine future without you by my side. I know it sounds freaking crazy and selfish from me, but I mean it, Izuku” the crimson eyes now wide open and look in green emerald pulls with determination in voice. The freckles cheeks tint with light blush the darkness of night hide it from soft crimson gaze. He always look up to Kacchan, always admire him, he was and he is his imagine of victory. Do he want more from him?

The green eyes look down to his mug with already cold tea on the bottom of it and scared fingers fiddle with ceramic handle.

Izuku’s voice was timid as he was scared of what he was about to say.

“I have the same thoughts about you, you know. I don’t want us to be separated”.

Silence took over the dark kitchen again, all you could hear was the calm breathing of two people and distant sounds of night from outside. After another long moment Katsuki put his mug down on kitchen counter and reached out to take Izuku’s mug. The green eyes glanced up to reached hand and extended his hand to give him his mug. Their fingers brushed lightly and this are a weird feeling in their stomach.

“Can I hold your hand?” the ash blonde simply ask after putting down their mugs in sink to wash it later. Emerald wide pulls look up quickly in deep rubys on soft face. Freckles cheeks now warm and prominent pink. He startled when he replies “Um, s-sure” extended his scared hand to Katsuki to take it.

Carefully the ash blonde took the large scared palm in his and lightly squeezed it. He eyed every scar and scrap on it running his thumb over the back of greennet’s palm. It feels almost relieved, like it is the most valuable prize in his life. And memories of their past flood his mind.

“You know, I dream about that freaking hand constantly. After that day when I felt from that damn log, when you reached this hand to me. It’s hunting me in nightmares sometimes” he suddenly feels how that scared hand tense in his grip. Crimson eyes glance up at the greenett, he didn’t mean to scare him. “Heck, didn’t mean to scared you” he says reassuring. “What I mean is that I’m so freaking regret that I push you away from that damn day. I was egotistical and arrogant brat and I regret my past decisions. I’m sorry, Izuku”

The greenett relax and cups the ash blonde’s hand with his other hand.

“Thank you, Kacchan, but you don’t need to apologize to me for that, I already forgive you long time ago” he beam at him. “And you already apologized for your past, I don’t hold a grudge against you, never will be. You are so amazing and strong, Kacchan, if so I will be your number one fan when we graduated. You will be the great hero, Kacchan, no doubt” his bright smile illuminate dark kitchen and Katsuki almost squeezes his eyes.

They stayed there staring at each other’s eyes hand in hand and no one wanted to take a move to disturb their peace. But nothing is eternal.

The loud yawn leave greenett’s mouth and one hand trying to covered it.

“We should probably go to bed now” suggests the ash blonde feeling that sleep has reached him too.

“We should” flutter open green eyes replied.

Katsuki turns towards staircase and tug Izuku with him. They slowly climb up to second floor and when the greennet was about to say his farewell, the crimson eyes boy tug him higher with himself. Freckles cheeks heated up with new portion of pink blush but he didn’t complain or says anything against it. He trust Kacchan, he knows he won’t hurt him in any ways. They reach fourth floor and Bakugo’s door. The latter quietly opens revealing neat and tidy dorms room.

“Can you stay with me tonight? I won’t do anything to you, freaking promise” crimson eyes boy says reassuringly, he squeeze large scared hand lightly.

“Of course, Kacchan, I’ll stay with you” the greenett smiles brightly to him. It feels unreal at that moment, he would never have thought that this amazing young man with spiky ash blonde hair and deep ruby eyes would hold his hand so tenderly with soft gaze toward him. And that rare treasure smile on his face is worth a lot.

They entered Katsuki’s room, door close with quiet thud.

The ash blonde lead him into his bed, the mattress sagged under their weight. They lies there face to face still hand in hand on their sides carefully watching each other under duvet cover their shoulders.

Crimson eyes close and forehead touch the green mop of hair “I could be anyone you want me to be” he whisper to greenett.

The latter one put his free hand on ash blonde’s cheek and gently run his thumb over cheekbone. The green emerald shut close by eyelids.

“Then be yourself, Kacchan. I won’t you to change” his soft voice lull him to sleep. “I promise you, we will stay together, side by side. Wherever fate takes us”.

“You better”.

They lies on the ash blonde’s bed quietly, slowly slipping to peaceful sleep. Their minds and hearts calm and steady, tomorrow they will talk more, but right now they’re enjoying each other’s company.

It was a rough long path, but they heading to bright future together and that is enough for now.

[denimbex1986]

'Doctor Who fans worldwide are being charmed by the highly anticipated 60th anniversary specials. However, one character has sparked excitement and intrigue among disabled viewers: Shirley Anne Bingham, played by Ruth Madeley.

This more nuanced portrayal of a wheelchair user in Doctor Who is an extraordinary step forward for representation in the beloved series — but amid the fantastical, fairytale things, there can still be hard realities.

Ruth Madeley’s work has never been about perfection, but complex, hard-fought realities, and the same can be said of Russell T Davies. Both can get to the personal, up-close, staring-you-right-in-the-face experience through their writing and performances. They possess a unique ability to bring audiences close, allowing them to leave a lasting impact.

In these seconds on screen, we see the full power of disability representation. Often, the small, up-close moments have the most unforeseen consequences. Upon close inspection, a subtle, perhaps unconsciously done detail becomes apparent in a scene: Ruth Madeley’s character crosses her legs.

This seemingly insignificant moment holds profound meaning for disabled people as it was picked apart across social media by non-disabled people. We understand all too well the scrutiny and misunderstanding we often face regarding our own bodies.

As a wheelchair user, I have endured so much: uncomfortable gazes from men on buses, questions about why my leg is “bent” or “warped,” and unsolicited comments about my muscular legs not appearing “disabled enough” not to work. One of the earliest questions I ever asked a stranger was, “Why are you looking at my legs like that?”, instinctively adjusting protectively.

So, the abundance of social media reactions about a wheelchair user in Doctor Who crossing her legs on screen, frequently mistakenly assumed to be a continuity error, was unsurprising. Non-disabled people know nothing of what it’s like to live in and around our wheelchairs through various stages and moments in life and health.

This is still our burden, having to be explicit and clear on social media and everyday interactions. Knowing that this is a conversation that we very much need to be in control of — we need to be able to have these moments and question non-disabled ignorance — and get through it.

That is the core of good disability representation, even if it’s unconsciously done: the chance to acknowledge that ordinary disabled people still have these hard conversations and live in these moments.

Amid these fantastical fairytale things, there can still be small moments, small details that speak to an everyday truth — eliciting knowing nods from a disabled audience.

As Shirley asserts: “Don’t make me the problem, just get in there” when faced with a staircase that UNIT officers need to climb. This line serves as a knowing nod to the social model of disability, reminding viewers that people are disabled by barriers in society, not their impairments or differences.

But imagine disabled children getting to be Shirley.

Getting to play make-believe — to be the scientist, the leader. Getting to dress up or replicate and imitate that image, getting an earlier understanding that our society is built on half-truths and incomplete histories.

As a child, Doctor Who offered an escape, a reprieve from my “othered” existence, from the growing pains of existing in a disabled body, a place to rest my tattered mind. From the first “Fantastic!” we had each other with matching northern accents. We each wore muted clothing and a black leather jacket for a time.

I can’t imagine not pushing parts of myself down to relate to a character or escaping into other worlds without compromising my identity.

But, from the UNIT-branded wheelchair to including weapons as wheelchair accessories and the casual, calm confidence of “I don’t just fire darts, mate”, the show now embraces diversity in a way that will continue to resonate with disabled viewers for generations, and the disabled community will now go into inaccessible places and proudly proclaim, “Even the TARDIS is accessible now”.

Ultimately, it’s not just about the accessibility of the TARDIS or the ongoing conversations with those who aren’t disabled. It’s about this new generation of disabled children finally seeing themselves represented in Doctor Who. During frightening points, they will still experience the familiar jitters of monsters hiding under their beds or behind the couch, clutching at a cushion. They will have “their” Doctor, “their” companion, and “their” era.

One day, they will fondly recall that chilling moment when a Russell T Davies villain gave them nightmares. However, amid all the heartwarming nostalgia, they will also find comfort in knowing that disabled characters exist within the expansive Doctor Who universe, woven in whatever incredible guises they may take now or in the future. Action figures will bear their likeness and be beaten down in over-enthusiastic child’s play; drawings will proudly adorn fridges with the help of multicoloured magnets, and homemade or shop-bought Halloween costumes will be worn.

The inclusion of a nuanced portrayal of a wheelchair user in Doctor Who’s 60th-anniversary specials is a positive step towards greater disability representation — but it’s also a reminder that even amidst the fantastical, fairytale somethings, we can still experience the harshest of our realities.'

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

Partly because you can release software the minute it's done. Arguably pastoralism transformed a luxury into a commodity? Lisp's power is multiplied by the fact that communication is so much faster now. The young are the test, because when people aren't rewarded according to performance, they're invariably rewarded according to seniority instead. At first it may seem cool to get paid for it. The first thing I would do, after checking to see if you'll get an offer from Silicon Valley VCs that requires them to move to Albuquerque just because there are some smart hackers there they could invest in. But I will give you a set of rules here that will get you out of most difficult situations. Hear no till you hear yes.

Afterward I wondered, what am I even measuring? Fundraising is not what will make you successful—making things and talking to users—and the path I've described will for most startups be the surest way to that destination. Can imagination flourish where people can't criticize the government? One of the most useful mental habits I know I don't. But I'm not prepared to cross moms. I do that? Not even Error. In a job there is much more damping. The way to kill it is to keep everyone motivated during rough days or weeks, i. In most domains, talent is overrated compared to determination—partly because it gives you fewer options for the future. One advantage of Y Combinator's position at the very beginning, but only a little.

And of course the other investors you're talking to that you have an idea. Everyone knows computer science and electrical engineering are related, but precisely because everyone knows it, importing ideas from one to the other doesn't yield great profits. There are thousands of smart people who want to partner with you, and they will also become part of the compensation is in the bank. You can't just say Err to the user of a company's products. The first step is to have multiple plans depending on how much they damage the companies they invest in. If so, this revolution is going to be an all or nothing proposition. Every thing you own takes energy away from you.

Most people implicitly believe something like this would happen. Their expertise is mostly in business—as it should be universal, and there was a strong middle class—countries where a private citizen could make a fortune without having it confiscated. I wanted to know everything. In effect, you call the same functions on random arguments. The adult response to that's a stupid idea, a kid will either crawl away with his tail between his legs, or rebel. In social settings, I found myself thinking: I can understand why German universities declined in the 1930s, after they excluded Jews. What we really do at Y Combinator we get an increasing number of startups are created to do product development on spec for some big company, and then after generating interest there, ask more prestigious VCs for larger amounts, stirring up a crescendo of buzz, and then when you do. But in fact you shouldn't. So they prefer bigger deals, where they alternate between doing great work and doing absolutely nothing. That's what Facebook did. Once you realize that existing conventions are not the upper bound on user experience, it's interesting in a very pleasant way to think about that thing for years—perhaps for the rest of the world in 587, the Chinese system was very enlightened.

But mainly because users have other things to think about. If angels are so important, why do investors ask how much you're planning to raise. When you make something cheaper you can sell more of them. After a certain age, programmers rarely switch languages voluntarily. Public school textbooks represent a compromise between what various powerful groups want kids to be innocent is that we're programmed to like certain kinds of helplessness. If we want to know what they're thinking. The remarkable thing about this software was that it ran on our server, using ordinary Web pages as the interface.