#rdg imagines

[seiwas]

andie you have made me yearn for this man with a want so deeply rooted into my being 🥲😭🥲

i maxxed the tags but just wanted to add this one more thing — that he is soooo acts of service here its driving me insane. to be loved is to be known, that saying 🥲 my chest ached at the bookstore, at when he said that everything that’s his is rdr’s oh my goooood literally HOW TO GET A HE. HOW TO GET A HE i’m losing it. thank u for writing this I SWEAR

𝑤𝘩𝑒𝑛 𝑖 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑒 : 𝑡𝑜𝑑𝑜𝑟𝑜𝑘𝑖 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑡𝑜 𝑥 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 : 𝑝𝑎𝑟𝑡 𝑖𝑣

𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: In order to placate your anxious mother, you agree to return to your hometown to participate in a mating run—knowing full well that betas rarely get chased, never mind betas nearly old enough to age out of the practice. You’ve decided to treat it like a vacation, a chance to visit with your childhood friends, the mating run itself a nice relaxing hike.All in all it’s a solid plan—until alpha Todoroki Shouto, your best friend's little brother,steps in and blows it all to pieces. 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡: omegaverse, no quirks au, alpha!shouto, beta!reader, mating rituals, age gap, best friend’s little brother, older reader, afab reader, some class differences, aged up characters, semi-public sex, slight small town romance vibes, background implied dabihawks for some reason, smut, knotting, 18+; mdni! 𝑙𝑒𝑛𝑔𝑡ℎ: 7.6k | chapter 4 of 4

Then

“Shouto duty,” was the first thing Touya grumbled as he emerged from his house.

A little shadow with red and white hair peered out from behind him, big eyes staring up at you. Shouto was dressed in a periwinkle t-shirt and khaki shorts in the late spring heat, and he was nearly vibrating with excitement. You reached out reflexively to pat that fluff of hair, and Shouto seemed to lean into your touch like a cat, probably starved of affection from his fussy older brother.

“My lucky day,” you said, grinning at the way it made Touya roll his eyes.

Shouto nearly launched himself off the steps, looking quietly thrilled to be tagging along. He shoved himself in between you and Touya as you walked, as if unable to bear Touya’s proximity to you, making Touya bark out an annoyed, “Oi, watch it.”

Shouto ignored him, turning to you. “Y/N, I have something to tell you.”

You looked down at him curiously. “What?”

“I lost a tooth,” he said, staring up at you seriously. You laughed, knowing most kids would have smiled to show off their tooth gap, but Shouto had always been a little bit more withdrawn, though he was fairly open around you.

“When?” you asked, ignoring Touya’s scoff. “Did the tooth fairy come?”

Shouto nodded. “Last night. I am adding the money to my inheritance for you.”

That made you laugh again, and you bumped his shoulder. “You’re a good kid, Shouto. I think you should buy yourself something with it though. Especially in this weather—it’s good popsicle weather.”

Shouto looked like he was seriously considering this. “Do you like popsicles?”

You nodded. “Definitely.”

He seemed to pocket that information, and you hid a fond smile. That kid was too sweet for his own good, when it came to you. You wondered when his little case of older-brother’s-friend worship would end. You hoped not for another few years, at least.

“Fucking finally,” Touya said when he caught sight of Rumi and Keigo at the end of his neighborhood, his booted steps growing faster, as if eager to get away from the two of you.

You didn’t mind—Shouto was easy company.

“Oi!” Keigo called out to you, waving a skinny arm. You accompanied Shouto over, watching with a little bit of self-satisfaction when Shouto ducked a hair ruffle from Rumi, the look on his face almost reminiscent of Touya.

You were still his favorite, it seemed.

The usual round of arguments commenced about what to play now that all of you were united, Touya snottily vetoing everyone’s suggestions—except, notably, Keigo’s. Eventually you settled on hide and seek, something Shouto could participate in too, since it didn’t involve convoluted rules, and established a set distance you could go.

Finally Shouto was dubbed the first seeker, and the rest of you took off into the surrounding neighborhood.

You immediately beelined for the sprawling oak at the edge of the neighborhood, its thick, leafy branches the perfect place to conceal yourself. Touya, Keigo, and Rumi had long caught on to the fact that you were almost always to be found up a tree, but Shouto hadn’t played this game with you before.

Thirty seconds and one bark-scraped palm later had you settled in your hiding place, just as you caught Shouto’s shout from afar, “Ready or not, here I come!”

You quieted your breath, listening for the sound of his approach. This late in spring, the cicadas were already roaring. The leaves rustled around you in the breeze and you could hear some other band of kids shrieking and laughing, far in the distance.

It was nearing ten minutes on by the time you heard the thump of Shouto’s sneakers approaching, and you could just make out that distinct mop of bright hair through the branches. He poked around behind bushes, peering at eye level, but didn’t seem to think to look up for you. You watched him hunt through the surrounding area, then dash off when you heard a distinctly Keigo squawk not too far away.

You were nearly asleep on your tree branch when you heard his return, and you sat up quietly to watch him again. You were impressed that he seemed to know you were somewhere nearby.

As you watched him rifle around, you wondered if you should drop a hint, just because he’d been so sweet to you earlier. He’d been so adorable insisting he’d save you his tooth money.

You deliberately rustled a branch, leaning on it so it made a loud creak.

Immediately, Shouto’s head snapped up. Two mismatched eyes narrowed in on you, and his face seemed to brighten when he saw you. A small smile quirked the corner of his mouth.

“Caught you,” he called up to you.

You stuck a leg down tauntingly. “Not yet.”

Something passed over Shouto’s face, and his gaze seemed to sharpen. “I have, too.” You could almost hear a foot stamp in his voice.

You grinned. “Not until I get down.”

A determined look settled across Shouto’s features, and he prowled over to the tree. You watched him jump for a lower branch, catching it securely before hefting himself up. His arms were skinny, but his movements were sure, intent. In no time at all you were helping lever him onto your own branch, pulling him up alongside you.

“I caught you,” Shouto repeated, settling a proprietary hand on your arm. His hand was warm, and his fingers caught your wrist tightly.

You smiled. “I let you catch me by making all that noise, you mean.”

A tiny frown pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I knew you were around here,” he said, something almost like a pout in his voice.

You laughed. “I did notice you came back. Those are some good tracking skills—although don’t forget to look up. I’m usually always up a tree, when it comes to hide and seek, and Touya and the others I think have caught on too. They’re probably up their own trees somewhere.”

“I do not care about finding them,” Shouto said. His straightforward tone startled a laugh out of you.

You settled back against the branch, Shouto still gripping your arm firmly. “Should we let them wait, then?” you asked, grinning. “I bet Rumi will come out on her own pretty soon, she’s so impatient.”

Shouto nodded. “I will stay here with you.”

The sincerity of the statement warmed you, the way Shouto’s serious little proclamations always did. He was too sweet for this earth. “Then shall we discuss which popsicle you’re going to get later? I have some recommendations.”

Shouto nodded seriously, and you launched into your nonsense, pleased. The leaves rustled around you, the breeze cool and pleasant against your skin. It felt like time stretched out around you, thick like taffy, slow and lazy and easy in the late spring breeze.

You thought absently that wished you could have a million more moments, Shouto the easiest company beside you, just like this.

Now

The morning of the run dawned warm and dry, sunny with a light breeze.

It was perfect hiking weather, and that was the only thing that kept you in good spirits. You tried not to think about Shouto—about how he was going after someone today, how you’d possibly seen him for the last time before he did. He’d said he’d find your tree, but there was really no guarantee his omega was going to run in the same direction as you.

You ate breakfast on the couch with your mother, listening to her excitedly chatter about your prospects today. You hammed it up a little bit, pretending you had any interest in being chased by an alpha, so that you could milk it later and avoid promises to commit to next year’s run. You hoped it would be enough of a deterrent for her—every year you grew older without a mate, she seemed more desperate to find you one.

You repacked your bags, readying yourself to board your train back to the city tomorrow, feeling mournful. Then you spent the rest of the morning finishing up the small things your mother had let go while you were gone, YouTubing your way through a door knob repair, and some weather stripping replacements. You lifted her air-conditioning into the window, swearing and sweating the whole time and wishing you had even a fraction of Shouto’s easy alpha strength.

After everything was finished, you packed up for the run, placing all your snacks and the sandwich Shouto had helped assemble into a small backpack, stuffing in a water and a book after. Then you scrounged around in your clean laundry for some hiking clothes, settling on leggings and a tee-shirt, no reason to try to impress anyone.

It was late morning by the time you ducked out of your house and started the trek to the preserve on the edge of town. Throngs of people were already gathered when you got there, alphas and omegas alike crowding the entrance. An overwhelming mixture of scents washed over you, the sweetness and florals of the omegas, the tang and spice of the alphas, even the small muted underwash of a few betas.

The overstimulation was nostalgic, and brought to mind your first few runs—the anticipatory hope you felt, the determination not to get caught for some one-time mating with an alpha who wouldn’t prove to be your life mate. It had been years, and you knew the outcome already this time, but some small thrill of anticipation thrummed in your veins regardless.

You kept to the edge of the crowd, sprawling out on the grass until the organizers called for the omegas and running betas to come forward to their starting mark. The alphas and remaining betas would be called to the mark a half hour later, to follow their intended targets into the preserve.

Then the whistle was being blown, and the crowd of omegas around you surged into the forest.

The first hundred meters of the preserve were a tangle of wild trees and overgrowth—omegas typically stayed on the trails until the forest opened up, several paths intersecting and leading away into hills and towards a pond, with the last one stretching towards the coast. This was your usual route and you followed it until the trees thinned out, then stepped off the path to tromp through the woods in the direction of the coastline.

You kept a brisk pace, wanting to get as far in as you could before the alphas were let in. Eventually the spruces and firs gave way to mostly coastal scrub pines amid tall grass, and you could smell the ocean through the trees, hear the crash of the waves against the rocky outcroppings.

You stepped out of the woods along a small coastal path that stretched for miles, and followed it a few minutes more until it flattened out. There was a small meadow laid into the coastline, spanning several square meters of pale seagrass and flowering bushes, shaded by an enormous willow tree—your target.

The meadow had a beautiful view of the shining blue waves through the barren scrub trees, but more importantly it was out of the way, little known to people who did not frequent the coastline trails. The willow was the perfect cover, its trailing fingers and dense greenery more than enough to hide one disinterested beta.

You ducked through the leaves, latching onto one of the lower branches and heaving yourself up. It had been years since you’d climbed anything—the city not exactly chalk-full of great climbing trees—but you were pleased to find it just as satisfying. You scrambled up into the canopy, testing your weight against your designated branch, finding it still held you easily.

Perfect.

You immediately rewarded yourself with a granola bar, settling onto your branch and chewing contentedly, pleased with the temperature. The sun was hot, but in the shade of the leaves and the salty breeze drifting in off the sea, it was perfectly comfortable.

You’d just gotten out your book to read, flipping to the spot you’d last left off at, when the chirp of nearby birds stopped. The meadow seemed to grow quiet around you.

You sat up, alert, at the soft tread of a bootfall close by. Your breath froze in your lungs. An omega, looking for a place to hide? Or some alpha?

Except then a long-fingered hand parted the hanging tendrils of the willow, and a familiar head of scarlet and white hair was ducking inside the canopy.

Embarrassingly, your heart swelled. Shouto had made time to stop in before finding his omega.

“Shouto!” you shouted down, pleased.

Shouto’s face tipped up to you, a tiny smile on his mouth. He looked especially good today, you thought, a navy tee shirt stretched across his broad shoulders, baring the flesh of his biceps, a flush on his cheeks from the warm spring sun. He looked a little taken apart, windswept like he’d run here, and you furiously stamped down on the flash of heat in your tummy.

Nope. No.

“Y/N,” Shouto intoned quietly, his eyes glittering up at you. “Caught you.”

You were momentarily taken aback by the sound of something unfamiliar in his tone, some strange intensity in his voice and expression. It sounded almost like it meant something to find you here, something more than a momentary pitstop on his way to his omega—but of course that was ridiculous.

You waved down at him, smiling and sticking a leg down tauntingly like when you were kids. “Not yet.”

Shouto’s eyes narrowed, a flash of something predatory tinging his handsome features.

In the blink of an eye, he crossed to the tree, dense muscle coiling and pulling beneath his tee shirt as he pulled himself up. This time he needed none of your help, moving with a panther-like grace. He pulled himself onto the branch immediately below yours, close enough that it put him at eye level with the bottom of your chin.

Then he reached out and snared your ankle in one large, warm hand, a smug sort of glint in his eye. The follow up caught you went unspoken.

Another laugh bubbled up out of you. “Alright alright, this time you got me,” you agreed, flexing your ankle in his hold.

Shouto’s mouth turned up, clearly pleased, but he did not let go. A thumb stroked softly along the hollow beneath your ankle bone. A surprised shiver caught you, sliding up your spine.

“You, um, got here so quick,” you said, trying to think past the sudden fuzz of static in your brain. You hoped your voice sounded impressed and not embarrassingly breathy. “Did you at least note which way your life mate went?”

Shouto’s head tilted, his bangs falling into his eyes as his thumb petted across your skin again. “I did.”

You nodded approvingly, tensing against another shudder. “Did they come out this way? You’re probably the first alpha to make it out here but you won’t want to waste too much time.”

Shouto’s mouth twitched, those heterochromatic eyes trailing down your face. “No time spent with you is a waste.”

That made your face warm. You tried to prod him with your foot, but Shouto’s grip was firm. “You’re going to want to save the charm for your life mate, mister.”

“I am,” he said simply, tone sincere.

You felt your brow furrow—now what was that supposed to mean?—when suddenly Shouto leaned forward, abandoning his grip on your ankle. His hands found the branch at either side of your hip, trapping you inside his reach. You stared down at him, stunned with his sudden proximity.

You felt suddenly a little caged in, your breath pulling up short. What was he—?

“Will you come down to me?” Shouto asked, eyes intent on yours.

The ask felt significant, though you had no idea how. And he was so close, so focused on you.

But you had no clue exactly what he would need you to come down for. Maybe he wanted to split lunch or something? You had your sandwich in your bag, and it would be easier on the ground, you supposed.

Although Shouto probably shouldn’t go running around on too full a stomach, especially if he—with his omega, after—if they…

You found you couldn’t think it, your mind shying away like you’d prodded a nerve.

Really, Shouto should be going soon, before any ranging alphas made it this far out and sniped his life mate before he got to them.

With that thought, however, some selfish thing recoiled inside of you. You desperately craved just a few more minutes with him—this achingly familiar boy, this mind-numbingly beautiful man—before he wasn’t really yours to think of anymore. These were the last few moments you’d get to spend with him before everything changed. It took less than a second to make up your mind.

“Yeah,” you said, smiling. “I’ll come down.”

You shifted, gathering your backpack and maneuvering off your branch carefully. Shouto gave you just enough space to get down, a hand finding your waist as you steadied yourself. He shadowed you down, close at your back to make sure you didn’t slip.

He was acting the consummate gentleman—but there was a strange tension about him, something about the way he moved and the intensity with which he was trailing you. There was something expectant about it, something almost impatient.

Maybe he needed you to hurry up so he could get going. That was probably it.

You turned to your backpack as soon as he guided you safely to the ground. You’d barely gotten it unzipped, however, when Shouto suddenly crowded into your space, startling you.

You stumbled a reflexive step back, breath whooshing out of you when your back connected with the trunk of the willow. Shouto followed, still watching you with that unnerving intensity.

His fingers dipped under your chin, softly turning your face up to his. His gaze was serious—more solemn than you had ever seen him. You went still in his grasp, heartbeat rabbiting in your chest.

What was with him today?

“Shouto,” you said slowly. “Are you… alright?”

Shouto leaned down, pressing his forehead to yours. His slow exhale ghosted over your mouth, thumb stroking across your jaw. It sent a swarm of shudders down your spine, and you suddenly weren’t breathing at all.

“I have dreamed of this moment a thousand times,” Shouto said, his tone reverent. It was almost a whisper.

His tone implied there was something incredibly significant about this moment, but you could not for the life of you think of what. Especially not with his face so close, clouding up your thoughts.

You felt your brow furrow against his, and you opened your mouth to ask him what on earth he could be talking about.

Except before you could, Shouto’s hands took either side of your face. And then he bent his head—and pressed his mouth to yours.

All higher thought immediately evacuated your brain, leaving only a sudden zing of panic and the horrible, wonderful excitement of Shouto’s mouth on yours, of Shouto’s strong body so close to yours. Rough bark scraped against your back as Shouto’s front slotted warm and firm against your chest, and the feeling of all that strength pressed so tightly to you made you dizzy.

“Sho–-? Whuh—?” you said, slightly muffled into his mouth.

But Shouto only took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, soft and wet and so unbelievably hot your brain short circuited. Every single nerve ending in your body lit up as you realized Todoroki Shouto had his tongue in your mouth, and that he was kissing you so thoroughly and meticulously it felt as though this was the last kiss he’d ever be allowed. You heard yourself let out a gasp that turned into an embarrassing moan as he pressed harder against you, pinning you between himself and the tree.

Your mind felt like it was melting, Shouto’s mouth doing terrible things to your thoughts’ coherence. Your hands went to his shoulders, and you found yourself opening up to him, every inch of your skin hot. Every flick of his tongue, every brush of his lips felt better than you could have ever imagined, and you were helpless to do anything but let him have you.

Your thoughts were a puddle when Shouto finally let your mouth free. All you could do was stare up at him, shocked.

“Y/N,” Shouto said, his eyes searching your face. “You came down for me.”

His handsome face wore an expression you hadn’t ever seen before as he regarded you, something almost—possessive? His hands had slid to your waist, his touch hot through the material of your shirt.

Your brain swam. Words, what were words? “I—? Uh, yes—?”

Shouto seemed to understand you weren’t getting his point. “‘If I’m not an alpha, and I have to hide somewhere, I’m going to find the best tree in the preserve and go up it and not come down until I find my life mate,’” he said.

It sounded like a quote, and it took you an embarrassingly long moment to realize it was something you had said, years and years and years ago, when you were both kids.

Was he saying—? But that was absurd. No, there was no way. You hadn’t—he wasn’t—

“But you’re Shouto,” you groped around your thoughts for logic and reasoning. “You’re Shouto.”

Shouto watched you patiently, a white eyebrow raising slightly.

“You can’t mean—?” you sputtered. “No. You’re Touya’s baby brother. I’m too old for you. The first time I held you, you were a baby.”

Shouto pressed impossibly closer to you, a long-fingered hand winding its way into yours. “I am not a child, Y/N. And you are not that much older than I.”

You struggled to think through the feeling of his body pressed to yours. You knew it. You knew he wasn’t a child. But all the same, you’d spent long enough telling yourself he’d been meant for someone else. Long enough convinced that you were too old for him.

Long enough that you were absolutely certain this had to be a mistake.

“You’re off limits,” you told him, trying to press him back. Shouto did not budge, however, as solid as stone under your hand.

“You are my life mate,” he said. He raised your joined hands to his mouth, kissing over your knuckles. An electric jolt went through you at the feeling of that mouth on you again, firm and warm. “I have known my whole life. I am off limits to all but you.”

A storm of emotion churned in your gut, everything from guilt to disbelief to pleasure to relief. To hear it said so plainly, after all this time—you are my life mate—by a man who was already so beloved to you. By a boy you’d loved as a friend, a man who you wanted to love as more.

But you couldn’t—he had to deserve better.

“I won’t take advantage of you,” you insisted.

A small smile pulled at Shouto’s mouth. “I am not a child. And I am an alpha besides. Your alpha.”

You fought down a furious flush.

“But Shouto there’s so many things–!” you insisted. Beyond being older than him, beyond being a staple in his life since he was young. You were quickly realizing so many of the promises he’d made when he was younger, he actually meant.

“Your inheritance—I never meant to accept that from you for real. And your family, they would not like that I—”

The rest of your words were muffled in Shouto’s mouth, as he bent his head and kissed you again. A flick of his tongue turned even that into a muffled squeak instead. Why was he so good at this?

“Much of my family understands what it means to pursue something singularly,” Shouto said against your lips. “What it means to give everything you have in service of pursuit.”

Your stomach flipped. The Todoroki single-mindedness that you had been convinced had skipped right over Shouto. Suddenly years of solemn watchfulness over you, years of following you like a shadow, years of sharing all his toys and his thoughts and promising to take care of you—it all made a terrible, perfect sort of sense.

Single-mindedness. But not as destruction, as Enji’s and Touya’s had been. As devotion—as thoughtfulness, something so uniquely Shouto you wanted to cry.

God how had you missed this?

You rallied yourself for one last defense.

“Shouto. At the very least you need to consider if you’re making a mistake. Alpha-beta couplings are nontraditional—maybe your senses are off here. Maybe because I’m a beta and I was around when your brain was still forming and you liked me then it feels like there’s something but—”

Shouto’s grip on you flexed, and suddenly his determined expression flickered, a crease forming between those perfect brows.

“Do you see me as a child still?” he asked.

You shook your head. Not since you’d seen him prowl across the Todoroki kitchen, miles of sleek muscle flexing, that perfect campfire scent fogging your brain, tall and gorgeous and unmistakably alpha. And especially not since you’d come to understand the expanse of his life—the home he’d made, the job he had, the goals he’d taken.

“Then do you… not want me?” he asked.

Your heart immediately sank, aching with the soft flicker of hurt that crept across his features.

Your hands had shot out to hold his face before you knew what you were doing.

“Shouto, of course I want you,” you found yourself saying. “Who wouldn’t want you? You are perfect. You are so kind and have always been so good. You are sweet and funny and so beautiful it hurts to look at. Of course I want you. But I don’t want to hurt you—”

“Then say yes,” Shouto insisted.

God you wanted to. You wanted to. You had been so jealous this whole week, you realized, of whoever his life mate was going to be.

The realization crashed into you like a wave, knocking you off balance. You wanted all of Shouto’s time, all of his attention, wanted to curl up in his apartment on that plush couch with him and all but bodily fuse to him, never to come apart again. You wanted to spend a million afternoons cooking in that kitchen, running lunches to him at the firehouse, kissing him, laughing with him, indulging in him—in how kind and sweet and good he’d always been.

Your face must have said it all, because Shouto was crowding back into you.

“I am going to be so good to you, Y/N,” he promised, his mouth drawing closer.

You shivered. Some part of you still felt like you needed to resist him, needed to make him see. But the other part of you, the largest part, wanted to melt in his embrace. Wanted to let him kiss you and kiss him back, wanted to thread your fingers in that fluff of hair and sink into the relief of his companionship.

Shouto hammered the final nail into your coffin with the unerring precision of a boy who’d known you for twenty years.

“Trust me to take good care of you,” he said, his voice dipping to a low whisper.

And that was it—the refrain from all those years ago, before you’d ever understood what he was promising you. Even if you were uncertain about everything else, you would always be certain about Shouto’s care. Shouto’s inherent goodness.

Surrendering, you let yourself fall.

“I do,” you told him. “I trust you. I—always will.”

Then you closed your eyes and let him kiss you.

You could feel Shouto’s soft smile against your mouth, feel a renewed intensity in the way he poured himself into you with his next kiss. You almost sagged against him in sheer relief—the relief of knowing, against all odds, that your life mate had found you even across the years that had threatened to separate you.

Shouto kissed you with a startling vigor, leaving you breathless against the willow when he moved down to your neck, pulling your tee shirt wide to suck several very insistent markings into the hollow of your throat.

You leaned into the rough bark as he mapped his way lower, and lower, only startling when he dropped to his knees before you, pressing his face into the crease of your hip.

Your heart shot into your mouth, a shock of heat licking up your spine. “Shouto!” you stammered.

Shouto only uttered your name into the fabric of your leggings, the material thin enough that you could feel the heat of his exhalation on your skin. One of his hands came up to take your calf, the other creeping up into the band of your leggings, carefully pulling it down.

You watched him as he did, stomach fluttering.

He gently helped you step out of your leggings and panties, leaving you bare and vulnerable to him. You would have been more embarrassed if it wasn’t for the way his eyelashes fluttered appreciatively, and the immediate way he ducked his head to press his mouth right to your core.

You muffled a moan into your palm, thunking your head against the tree trunk.

You could feel Shouto’s slow smile as he hefted your thigh over his shoulder, hands grasping your waist. “Mine,” you heard him utter, soft and low, before licking right over you, possessive and deliberate. It made every inch of your skin flush hot, every nerve ending come to life under his mouth.

You could still hardly believe what was happening, even as you muffled more sounds into your palm as Shouto worked you, with the attentive diligence he’d always done everything when it came to you. You could feel those mismatched eyes on you, cataloging your every reaction to what he did.

He learned all too quickly exactly what you liked, and you were a writhing mess within minutes. Shouto pinned you to the tree with an iron arm across your stomach as you arched and screamed, not letting up until you’d come against his mouth, chanting his name like an oath.

He looked very pleased with himself when you were done, his hair ruffled from your hand, face flushed.

He looked too good to be real.

“I want—Shouto, please—” you said, nearly incoherent but apparently utterly shameless now that he’d had you.

Shouto got to his feet to kiss you again and you flushed when you could taste yourself on his mouth. “Come home with me,” he murmured, tone low.

“You don’t want—?” you said.

Shouto shook his head. “Not here. I’ve imagined this a thousand times, how I wanted it to happen. I’ve thought about what you deserve. I’ve thought about how I will not want to separate, after, not even to take you back home. Come home with me first.”

Fire spread across your cheeks at the idea of Shouto imagining it with you, over and over again. The way he said home, like it was both of yours.

“Okay. Okay yes,” you said, breathless.

Shouto helped you back into your leggings and gathered up your abandoned pack, which you’d apparently dropped and forgotten entirely the moment he’d kissed you. He held your hand in his the whole way back through the woods, occasionally cocking his head or scenting the air, and then taking a long detour around some place, like he didn’t want to share your presence with whoever else was in the woods.

The walk was long, but so easy in Shouto’s company, even with this new dimension of your relationship settling itself between you two. It was frighteningly easy, in fact, after everything.

You talked about everything and nothing, reliving the entire week together, Shouto sharing that he’d hoped you’d see him as a man, had taken the time right up until the run to try to be sure. Ears flaming, you’d shared that you’d been gone for him the moment you’d seen him in the doorway of the kitchen. Shouto’s smug look immediately mopped up any of the reflexive embarrassment you felt sharing that.

By the time you made it to Shouto’s you’d also managed to shoot a text off to your mother, and an emergency extension of your time off to your workplace.

Shouto was on you as soon as the door shut behind you, catching your noise of surprise in his mouth.

Your arms came around him, and he walked you back to his couch, following you down onto it and laying himself out over you. The weight of him made you shiver again, the heaviness of all that muscle anchoring you down.

Shouto kissed you absolutely boneless into the cushions of his couch, hands wandering everywhere, skimming under your shirt, calluses catching on the fabric of your leggings. Everywhere he touched felt like it was on fire, your nerves singing with pleasure. Shouto seemed to be trying to take his time with you, but you could sense something underneath that, his usual layers of patience eroded.

Feeling brave, you let your hands wander to the buttons of his pants, working them open. Shouto’s breath left him in a hiss as you wrapped your hand around him, feeling him hard and hot and velvet smooth in your palm.

“Ah… fffuck, love,” he muttered into your neck. He chased it with the soft scrape of his teeth, groaning when it made your grip tighten on him reflexively.

His hips flexed, sliding him through your fingers, flush and full. Butterflies fluttered to life in your stomach, and a hot streak of arousal licked up your spine. Your own hips shifted, lifting up into him, and you realized with a sudden desperation that you wanted him inside you, didn’t want to wait another second.

“Shouto please, please, please,” you found yourself babbling, stroking firmly down the shaft of him.

Shouto’s eyes were dark when they found yours again. “Anything, I would give you anything,” he said, his voice tight.

“I want you inside of me, please,” you said, your face burning with the admission.

The sheer elation flashing across his handsome face quelled any more embarrassment. In what felt like barely a breath, Shouto had you bare to him once more, flinging your leggings and shirt somewhere towards his kitchen. He covered you again, fitting himself between your thighs with another appreciative groan before pressing in.

You were so wild with want that he slid home easily, despite his impressive size. His skin burned hot against yours, and he felt so perfectly right over you, inside of you, that you had to fight down something like a sob.

Shouto looked equally as overwhelmed, staring at your face rapturously. “I have loved you my whole life,” he said, his tone wondering. “You are finally mine.”

Your entire body went hot with his declaration. You had not realized until today that you loved him too. But now that you did, it felt like everything made sense, that all was finally right.

You managed to gasp out as much between Shouto’s thrusts, as his hips bucked into yours, slowly at first, and then faster, more sure. He kissed you everywhere—your face, your neck, your shoulders, layering in soft bites like he could not help himself.

“Say it,” he groaned, mouthing at the underside of your jaw. “Please say it.”

“I love you,” you said. A yelp escaped you when Shouto suddenly seized you around the waist, rolling you on top of him and holding you to him as he levered the two of you upright. The position in his lap only made him sink deeper inside of you, and you hissed with the feeling, your fingernails digging into his back.

“Ah, fuck—Shouto!” you cried.

Shouto’s hands on your waist guided you with an easy strength—your head spun with the reminder of his power, the reminder that you had an alpha—your alpha—inside of you.

“Going to take good care of you,” he panted into your hair, pausing to kiss the shell of your ear even as the snap of his hips undid you. “Going to take such good care of you.”

Your fingers flexed on him, and you could feel your toes curl. You did not know what to do with all of the emotion welling up inside you, the well of your pleasure almost overflowing. He ground up into you, making your eyes nearly roll back in your head, and you fought down a scream when the pad of his thumb pressed to your clit, heightening every sensation.

“Oh Shouto, please—” was all you could manage.

Shouto looked enraptured, drinking in every change in your expression. As you squirmed and writhed under his touch, you felt him start to swell inside of you.

Both apprehension and arousal swirled inside of you, a beta’s body a little less adapted to knotting than an omega’s. But the firm circle Shouto’s thumb was drawing on your clit, and the low murmur of his voice in your ear, began to drown out any other thought.

“I have you, love,” Shouto said. His mouth dragged across your throat, leaving a sucking bruise along the column. Your nails scrabbled at his back as he swelled even further inside of you, starting to catch on your walls and make it harder to press back down on him.

“I have you,” Shouto said again, his voice rough with pleasure. The reassurance that he did, and the knowledge that he was barely managing his own pleasure struck you like a bolt of lightning. Something inside you unraveled and came loose, and you muffled a cry into Shouto’s broad shoulder as your orgasm slammed into you like a tidal wave.

A low swear escaped Shouto, and his knot swelled even further. His hands suddenly seized tight on either side of your waist, holding you down on him as he thrust up into you. You felt a sort of pressure you’d never anticipated, so overwhelming it was nearly painful—but then Shouto’s knot slid into you.

Shouto groaned into your neck, biting down hard. You writhed over him, your pleasure wringing you out until finally you slumped against him, shivering. Shouto eased back, propping himself up on the arm of the couch, you stuck to his chest like a sweat-slicked barnacle.

“That was—so much more intense than I ever imagined,” you said, when you’d recovered your faculty for human language.

You could feel the curve of Shouto’s smile against your neck. “For I, as well,” he said. “Though I had imagined it a great many times—we still have many other fantasies I intend to live out.”

You were embarrassed to feel yourself tighten around him. Shouto hissed, leaning back to pin you with a look—then looked more smug than you’d ever seen him.

“Like that, do you, love?” he asked.

The pet name made your ears heat, and you couldn’t help but pinch him. “You used to be so sweet, when did you get this fresh?” you demanded.

“Fresh is the least of what I intend to get with you,” Shouto informed you seriously. “I take my duties as a child bride very seriously.”

Your jaw dropped open, and you pressed back from him, gasping when it shifted him inside you. “You—! You heard—?”

Shouto’s smile was far too handsome and self-satisfied to be allowed. “That is when I knew I stood a chance.”

Your face burned. You couldn’t believe him. “You’re a menace.”

Shouto leaned into a press a kiss over where he’d sunk his teeth into you, butterfly-light. The touch of his mouth was warm and his campfire scent washed over you, fuzzing your thoughts. His mouth moved up to catch yours, and you let him kiss you until you realized you’d started to squirm in his lap again.

Several minutes later he had you coming on his knot again, locked against him and muffling the sounds of your pleasure into his neck.

He looked, if possible, even more satisfied, and you lifted a hand to thread through the strands of his hair, silky and damp.

“I can’t believe this is real,” you said, several orgasms having made you loose-tongued. You rubbed a strand of his hair between the pads of your fingers.

Shouto turned his head to drop a kiss to the base of your palm. “We have time enough to make you believe it, love.”

Another butterfly took wing in your stomach at the pet name. You wondered if you’d ever get used to hearing him say it.

“I’ll have to figure out my work—I don’t know if they’d let me work remotely all the way from here?” you said, thoughts suddenly shifting. You sort of doubted your company would make the exception for you, and a pang shot through your heart at the idea that you might have to leave Shouto to work in the city on weekdays. At least until you found another job, which might take months to arrange.

You did not want to be separated from him, now that you’d let yourself have him.

A hand caught your chin, thumb smoothing along your jaw. “I do not think you will have enough time,” Shouto said, a slim brow raising slightly. “What with the bookstore opening.”

You stared at him, wondering if you’d just had some sort of auditory hallucination.

“The—what?” you asked.

“The bookstore opening,” Shouto said. His mouth made the shape of the words exactly, and so it could not be that you’d hallucinated. But—

“What bookstore?” you asked.

Shouto’s mouth pressed into a deliberately flat line like he was trying not to smile.

“Yours. Downstairs,” he clarified—which did not clarify at all.

Your mouth dropped open against his fingers, your eyebrows shooting for the moon. “My—? Downstairs—?”

Your mind scanned back over the events of the last twenty-four hours, the first time you’d caught sight of the shop downstairs again as you’d followed Shouto home. The way it seemed so well-maintained, the windows glinting crystal-clear in the soft evening light. Your eyes reflexively dipped to the blonde wood of Shouto’s floor, the very same that had been installed across the floor of the shop, and an understanding suddenly dawned on you.

“I remember everything you have ever told me,” Shouto had said when you mentioned you’d been in love with the shop downstairs.

“No way,” was what left your mouth as you glanced back up at Shouto, disbelief rising.

Shouto was watching you carefully, his handsome face serious. “Your name is on the deed.”

A wellspring of emotion rose up inside you like a geyser, and you slammed yourself back into Shouto, throwing your arms around his shoulders. “Shouto—I. You didn’t need to—there’s no way I can accept—this is incredible, you’re incredible—but I’d be taking advantage—I can’t—”

A warm, long-fingered hand slid up your spine to rest on the back of your head, holding you against him. “I have always been yours,” Shouto murmured. “Everything I have has always been yours. If it is too much now, we can wait. But I, and everything I have, will always be yours.”

You blinked, embarrassed to realize you’d started dripping tears into Shouto’s shoulder. Shouto didn’t say anything, fingers petting through your hair as you tried to fight the emotion down.

“I promised to take good care of you, and I intend to,” he said. Pressed against him, you could feel the way the words rumbled in his chest.

You closed your eyes and shoved your face in his neck, letting him hold you to him. Everything about today felt too good to be true, but you knew with absolute certainty that Shouto had always been too good to be true, himself. And yet you’d told him you trusted it, when he said he’d take care of you.

And you did—you realized you would always trust it, trust the beautiful boy you’d known all your life.

“I’ll need to pay you back on your investment,” you said some minutes later, when you finally found your voice again. You leaned back to look Shouto in the face, trying not to be embarrassed about the drying tear tracks.

“There is no need,” he said, eyes finding yours.

You realized you were still in his lap, though his knot had softened, and you thought you might be able to separate now.

But now you had other plans—and an investment you wanted to enthusiastically return.

“I insist,” you said, leaning forward to mouth at Shouto’s neck.

You caught the flash of his eyes widening, and his head fell back as a sharp breath left him. “I—see,” he said, his voice growing rough as you sucked a careful mark into the skin of his shoulder.

You smiled against his skin. “You will,” you promised, feeling bolder than ever. It felt like you were daring to believe it, that you’d found your life mate, that you really got to have him, that he’d loved you as long as he’d lived.

You wanted to return all those years of love, now that you loved him too.

“I’m going to take good care of you too,” you informed Shouto, hips already flexing over his.

You felt him start to grow hard inside of you again, and he turned his head to catch your mouth. You could feel his smile against your lips.

“I trust it,” he said, his voice dropping low.

You smiled too, grinning against your lifemate’s mouth, intent on proving yourself worthy of that trust.

Though perhaps that could wait until you’d delivered some of the many fantasies it sounded like he’d stored up. There was no reason to rush.

You had the rest of your life together, after all.

[toasteri]

THERE is never a moment when Jesus is never THERE.

Photo by Ben White on Unsplash

1st Rdg: Hebrews 7:25-8:6 Thursday of the Second Week in Ordinary Time | USCCB

The high priests that the First Reading speaks about were many, but even so, death ended their priesthood. Jesus holds his priesthood permanently. Consequently, He is able to save those who come to God through Him, because He lives forever to intercede for us with God the Father.

It is hard to say which of St. Paul’s letters is the most important. Since his letter to the Hebrews is about the priesthood, I would say it’s one of the top three. And verse 25 is the heart of the entire letter.

Verse 25 says: “Therefore, he is always able to save those who approach God through him, since he lives forever to make intercession for them.”

This is the high priest we need – an enduring priest. The priests of Jesus’ time were called Levitical priests and they could not be for the people what they needed. They put the rules first, remember all those arguments Jesus had with the Pharisees?

The people needed a high priest who was luminous and holy and completely innocent and eternally able to bring us to be with His Father in Heaven. THAT COULD ONLY BE JESUS.

There isn’t a second, an hour or a time of your life when Jesus is not able or willing to save you or I. His power to save is limitless, yes is true. The grace of God in Christ extends further than you can imagine, to the deepest, most outrageous sin that you have ever committed. His grace is sufficient for you. The devil will always try to shame us into thinking that He is a vengeful and merciless God but remember His words “For the Son of man has come to seek and to save that which was lost.” (Lk 19:10).

“Jesus is always able to save those who approach God through Him.” (Heb 7:25) One of the key responsibilities of a priest is to make atonement for the sins of the people. That is to offer personal sacrifices, like fasting and the insults that sometimes they receive from their people as atonement for them. Jesus does this atonement perfectly. We go through God through the person of Jesus. He is the one who brings us into God’s glory.

There is never a moment when Jesus is never “there”.

I remember back in Wisconsin in the Seminary when we were studying Hebrews and someone asked a professor, “What would you do if you knew Jesus was in the next room praying for you? The professor told the seminarian: “Hebrews 7:25 tells us Jesus is in the next room praying for you: The next room is eternity.

He prays a prayer of absolution for you when you ask forgiveness for your past sin. He prays when you sin in the present moment hoping that you will repent.

And He prays that you will not fall into temptation.

That is what living forever to make intercession for you means.

[imaginationcamp]

IMAGINE Rob cannot concentrate on the the interview because all he can think about is you two broke up recently.

[theroncook]

"Who Am 👁 " #art Project 🎨 with Visual Artist Theron Cook #theroncookart @theroncook “The Village” Thank you everyone for a wonderful successful end of the Summer event we are truly grateful! Also Save this date: October 12th 6-9pm Paint with TC at Reading Museum Stay tuned for more details. Thank you! 🙏🏾 #love #modernart #contemporaryart #museum #painting #artist #creatives #imagine #success #inspiration #motivation #youth #future #rdg https://www.instagram.com/p/B1WlxTkHAQ9/?igshid=etlebcqvz15d

[calinalefter]

Look how my palette came to life! My little daughter turned it into a story ❣️ #pallet #metamorphosis #art #creation #kids #imagination #animal #figurative #drawing #rdg #rdgarts (at Reading, England) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGC2qWhnb0m/?igshid=1onfse5l0uxhz

[ukrfeminism]

The train station manager whose idea launched free ‘Rail to Refuge’ scheme for domestic abuse survivors

It would not be an understatement to say that for some people, a train journey is their ticket to freedom and safety.

Every day since April 2020, around four survivors of domestic abuse across Britain have used the Rail to Refuge scheme, which covers the cost of their train ticket, enabling them to escape a dangerous relationship. Financial abuse can leave them without the means to get far away from their perpetrator.

Anyone who uses the scheme has Southeastern rail worker Darren O’Brien to thank. The station manager came up with the idea of offering survivors free travel to a refuge after watching a Channel 4 documentary about Reigate and Banstead Women’s Aid.

“There was one particular incident where a lady was offered a place at a refuge but she couldn’t afford the travel there – a ticket for her and her three kids. She would have lost out on the place if she couldn’t travel,” he told i.

After bringing up the idea with his manager, Southeastern began covering the cost of fares for domestic abuse survivors in September 2019, with Great Western Railway joining the initiative six months later. With violence and abuse worsening in the Covid-19 pandemic, Rail to Refuge rolled out across Britain’s train companies in April 2020.

How does Rail to Refuge work?

When Women’s Aid connects a survivor with a refuge vacancy somewhere else in the country, a ticket is also booked, with train companies covering the cost. Train tickets will also be provided for their children.

The survivor uses an e-ticket on their phone or they can pick up a paper ticket from the train station with a debit or credit card before they travel.

The setup of the scheme allows survivors to board trains without having to explain their situation to anyone.

Mr O’Brien says: “They just want to get [to the refuge] safely. They’ve been through years, or whatever it is, of torment and abuse and they’ve got their kids and they live in fear and now they’ve got their opportunity. I can imagine their minds won’t rest until they actually get to that safe place.”

The Rail Delivery Group (RDG), which worked with Women’s Aid to expand the scheme, has now extended it indefinitely.

Mr O’Brien, in his forties, becomes emotional when asked if the scheme is the highlight of his 16 years at Southeastern.

“I remember talking to somebody, saying if we could just help one person, that would be brilliant. But we’ve helped over 1,300 people.

“Apart from being a father and getting married, there are not many other moments in my life, I suppose, that would surpass this,” says Mr O’Brien, who lives in north Essex with his wife and two daughters.

He knows people who have been in abusive relationships but says he could not always help in the past.

“So this is my way of giving something back.”

In its first year, the scheme has helped get 1,348 survivors, including 362 children over the age of five, to a safe refuge.

“It’s quite sad to think these things are prevalent in today’s society,” says Mr O’Brien, adding that the subject of domestic abuse is still taboo and associated with shame.

It is vital to get children out of abusive homes. “You don’t want these things to be normalised… You don’t want that child, if you’re a parent, to think this is acceptable because it’s not. Nobody should have to go through this.”

He believes schemes like Rail to Refuge need to exist for as long as domestic abuse is a problem.

“This should be in place to help people because they have enough obstacles to overcome. When you can help… [remove] barriers, it makes such a huge difference to their lives.”

Farah Nazeer, chief executive, at Women’s Aid said: “Rail to Refuge is a wonderful story of different organisations working together to support survivors of domestic abuse to safety.

“Sadly, demand for refuge spaces is still higher than the provision available, with 57 per cent of refuge referrals declined during 2019-20. So, it is absolutely vital that women and children are not prevented from reaching a refuge by the cost of travel. Now, on the first anniversary of lockdown, it is incredibly welcome news that RDG is extending the scheme until further notice. There is no end date on the scheme ending.

“We hope Rail to Refuge will continue because it is clearly needed, with four survivors on average using it every day,” she added.

...

It looks like this scheme is hugely helpful to those in need - I hope railways and public transport providers in other countries will also provide this service to domestic violence victims. In fact, if you’re based somewhere that doesn’t yet, you might consider starting a campaign!

[agirlinjapan]

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes (Story 2- Week 1)

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes By Noriko Ogiwara A Translation

The Red Data Girl translation is back with another short story from Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes! This story takes place between RDG 1 and RDG 2 and gives us some information about Miyuki’s first days at Houjou Academy.

It’s nice to be working on RDG again! The past few months have been wild for me, as I’m sure they’ve been for everyone. Now that it’s summer vacation though, things are just a bit calmer than they were during the school year.

I hope everyone’s staying safe! Don’t forget to wear your masks!

Red Data Girl: Ice Shoes, Glass Shoes By Noriko Ogiwara Story Two: September Transfer Student- Miyuki Sagara- Third Year of Middle School- Fall Part 1  

Miyuki Sagara didn’t feel well that morning as he sped west down the expressway in his father’s car.

It was September fourth.

Many elementary and middle schools in Tokyo had summer vacation until August thirty-first and Houjou Academy, the school he would be going to now, was the same. The fall semester had begun on September first. His late transfer date was being explained by a leave of absence due to an illness, the same excuse given to Awatani Middle School for his sudden removal from the school.

The truth was completely different, however. This time around, Miyuki was not sick or injured. Until the beginning of September, he had been on Mt. Haguro, undergoing “fall” ascetic training.

Yukimasa hadn’t objected to this decision, but he had made plenty of snide remarks about it to his son to let him know how he really felt.

Yukimasa Sagara was an ascetic monk, but he did not train on Mt. Haguro. Miyuki’s teacher was a member of his divorced mother’s side of the family, Harunobu Sengoku.  

Yukimasa even calculated how he could bring up training to his advantage while we talked…

Even watching the scenery go by outside the window was making Miyuki feel sick, but he didn’t want to bring that up either. Yukimasa didn’t need to know that.—Afterall, the reason why Miyuki felt sick was due to the fact that he was hungover.

If this had been September first, I would have been able to go on my own…

He had gotten used to the idea of transferring schools and he would have much preferred to arrive at his new school without his father driving him there in the car while he, Miyuki, was hungover.

…Ugh. My head is pounding…

Regardless of that though, he wasn’t too upset that the day he would transfer schools had arrived. He was also completely fine with the fact that the classroom experience he was about to begin would be entirely different from the training he had just left. Besides himself, the ascetic monks he had been working with had all been adults. As a result, Miyuki had been rather on his own during his time in the mountains.

Mr. Sengoku helped me out a lot…

As far as Miyuki was concerned, the real father figure in his life was Mr. Sengoku. It was true that the man holding the steering wheel next to him right now was his father in the way that he had come before him in the gene pool, but in the end, that was really just a source of anger to Miyuki.

From Miyuki’s perspective, Yukimasa, who was driving the car with a pleasant expression on his face, didn’t look anything like a father. He had the physique of a young person and his hair was dyed a stylish brown. What was more, he was so used to being admired by other people, he tended to strike poses without even realizing what he was doing.

It was clear to anyone who saw him that he was the sort of man who had made plenty of women cry.

Miyuki had been born when his father had been barely legal himself. Then, seven years later, he had gotten divorced. Miyuki could vividly remember the day it had happened. He had been in fifth grade at the time. Yukimasa had conducted himself in a completely shameless manner even on the day it had taken place.

After the divorce had been made official, Harunobu Sengoku had been the only member of his mother’s side of the family that he had continued to see. He had even more or less lost contact with his mother. He didn’t know what his other relatives’ situations were, but in Kaori’s case at least, she never reached out to get in contact with him.

Yukimasa didn’t seem to notice the silence in the car. Smiling at something he had thought of, he opened his mouth the slightest bit as if he was going to hum and then said, “That’s right. I need to tell you something. I’m coming with you today so that I can get a certificate of residency here in Tokyo. I’m changing my address from the house in Wakayama Prefecture to one here. That’ll take some time to process, though.”

“Oh.”

The house in Wakayama had been Miyuki’s address when he had been transferring middle schools last time. When Miyuki had taken the elite Keibun Academy’s entrance exam, he had been grateful for a chance to live without his father, but Yukimasa had quickly acquired a house nearby. Yukimasa’s ability to pick up and move wherever was a great nuisance to his only child.

“Are you going to be living near my school again?”

“Seeing as you’re going to be living in the student dorms this time, it doesn’t really matter where I live.”

“Thank God you’re not throwing me into some random woman’s house again and making me eat her bad cooking.”

Since Yukimasa’s divorce, this had happened more times than Miyuki cared to count. Of course, there had been women who had been good cooks as well, but he ignored that in this moment.

“That’s an ungrateful thing to say,” Yukimasa answered composedly. “They were all just doing their best.”

“If by doing their best, they had an ulterior motive,” Miyuki retorted testily. In reality, however, Miyuki had always gone along with those sorts of changes in his father’s life, quickly finding the good points of each of the women that moved in with them. There had been a limit to all of that though.

“I wish you would have let me move into a dorm earlier.”

The car had turned off of the highway at some point and was now driving down a city road. It didn’t look the way Miyuki imagined Tokyo. The rows of buildings they were passing were small and simple. A nearby mountain range with blue sky and clouds above it was visible beyond the buildings as well.

Seeing as Miyuki was always moving, he had never gotten used to one area over another, but not having lived in Tokyo before, he was thoroughly surprised by what he was seeing now.

“…This looks like the countryside.”

“The Tokyo area has little towns and even remote fishing communities on islands. Your perception of the city is limited.”

Miyuki decided to keep his mouth shut until he got out of the car. However, it turned out that they were only a few minutes away from their destination.

The place was greener than he would have thought with stylish school buildings. It reminded him a little of the updated area of Tokyo Station in the way that the buildings were older, but had clearly been remodeled. Miyuki wasn’t necessarily impressed with the school because of it, but assuming the buildings weren’t a deception, this was probably an expensive place to attend.

Yukimasa parked the car outside of the school’s front gate, but did not move to undo his seat belt.

“I guess you can go on alone from here,” he said to Miyuki, remaining where he was. “I’m not going to introduce myself at the school today. You can handle the apology for being three days late on your own, right?”

It was all a bit strange, but seeing as it was what Miyuki wanted as well, he hurried to get out of the car before Yukimasa could change his mind.

“Yeah, sure.”

“Don’t let anyone know the real reason why you’re at this school and stick to the plan as much as possible. And don’t drink as much as you did on the mountain.”

Miyuki felt like snapping at Yukimasa. His father always needed to get the last jab in.

“Obviously.”

“This school takes school customs more seriously than Keibun Academy did. You need to figure that out quickly. And don’t forget that you’re the one who wanted to come here. There’s no point in resenting me for sending you.”

“You can leave now.”

As Miyuki scowled at him, Yukimasa turned his smiling face from his son and drove away. The rental car grew smaller until it turned a corner on the street and disappeared.

Miyuki continued to gaze down the road, not because he was reluctant to enter the school, but because the weather was so nice. The longer he stood there though, the harder it became to move.

…I think I’m carsick now on top of everything now. I feel terrible.

His mood no brighter than it had been before, Miyuki took an unenthusiastic step towards the entrance to the middle school.

Keep reading!

[lucarioisinthevoid]

Dragons!

I already showed you these, but I’m curious what the boys would think of them! - (Submitted by @glitchy-mc-glitch-face​ ) - For a while, Henry inspected the page, his expression calm, unimpressed. “… well, that is a nice drawing.” Oh god, he loves it. “… it is acceptable.” He’s over the moon, his inner child is screaming. “If I had an inner child, I would have stuffed it into Fredbear long ago.” And maybe you did, BUT I CAN STILL HEAR IT SQUEAL IN DELIGHT! Finally there was a crack in his expression and he turned away, rubbing his face. “It is a NICE drawing and I appreciate it. The added detail of the taser, as well as the position, together with the pleasing design of shades of pink and gold that is a nice connection to the habit of dragons to hoard gold, implying that my draconic version has gone a step further and actually used it to create a kind of light armor for itself. I feel like this is an important detail that helps show off my character even in the design itself.” … still no scars, seems you heal just as fast as a dragon. I bet you are just as salty about it in that dimension. Ignoring these accusations elegantly, Henry pointed again. “The claws are black, which implies my horns and the marks on my back WOULD be black too if I did not improve them to be of more use to me. I wonder if I am capable of sending shocks over my back, to prevent anyone attacking from above.” He stared at the picture for longer. Oh. Oh no, Henry, don’t. “… gold is actually very conductive to electricity, I wonder if I could rebuild-“ NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO- “Oh, HUSH, if I build it, nobody will know anyhow. I am bored, a golden, charged armor would be exactly the kind of mindless, silly project that would keep me patient and busy.” Pleased he put the drawing on the wall, in a place it was easy to be seen. Seemed to already be one of his favorites. Which totally doesn’t have to do with him being a dragon in it. LISTEN. YOU GUYS. THIS MIGHT LOOK LIKE FUN AND GAMES, BUT NEXT TIME HERNY LEAVES THE VOID HE MIGHT BE FULLY AMOURED UP WITH A FANTASY WEAPON OF SOME SORT, WE ALL NEED TO STOP GIVING HIM IDEAS, I’M BEGGING. - Old Sport screeched, very happy. “DAVE, DAVE, LOOK AT US! WE’RE LOOKING GREAT! I’M A DRAGON. THAT’S EXACTLY WHAT I WANT TO BE. A DRAGON!” “AND I’M A DRAGONBORN! I BET’CHA!” “Might be, but what concerns me more is how you became a knight. Who the hell would want YOU to represent their law and order?” Dave snorted. “Yeah, imagine Sportsy. Next thing ya know, they’re gonna make me a GUARD. Ya know? WHO’D DO THAT? Nobody, surely.” “Royal Dragon Guard. RDG. I probably ate the king and thus the kingdom now belongs to me.” “Oh shit, but then where’s your crown, Sportsy?” Old Sport paused, scratching his chin. “Damn, you’re right.” “Consider, the Phoney-Kingdom was tryin’ to sacrifice me to ya and I chose to just have a seat and make ya snicker. You soon realized I’m waaaaaaay too loveable to kill!” “You can SAY that, but will it make that true?” “You tell me!” Playfully Dave nudged his friend with his shoulder. Old Sport picked up the drawing and grinned. “But seriously. Glitchy. Why are my eyes dark. Where’s my soul, Glitchy. My soulgem. Did Henry eat it?” Leaning over the figure, he insisted. “Glitchy, please, I’m concerned, where is my gem, what did they do to my gem-“ “Gem?” Confused Dave asked, but Old Sport waved him off. “Oh, don’t worry about it. I have PREMIUM BEHIND-THE-SCENES information. I have knowledge you could only DREAM about-“ “But not enough knowledge to actually know the answers to the questions, eh?” For a moment it was quiet, then Old Sport proceeded to jump Dave in an attempt to murder him and his BIGBRAIN™ observation. How dare. Needless to say, they love it AND SO DO I. DRAGON AU IS ONE OF MY FAVORITES AND NOBODY WILL EVER CONVINCE ME OTHERWISE. ESPECIALLY WITH THE AMAZING MECHANICS AND WORLD-BUILDING YOU MADE FOR IT. One day you will make a webcomic for it and I will DIE for it. It’s just fate. EITHER WAY, THANK YOU VERY MUCH FOR SENDING IT IN, I’M SO HAPPY TO HAVE IT ON MY BLOG NOW, BECAUSE I WANT PEOPLE TO SEE HOW GODDAMN GREAT THIS IS! I APPRECIATE THE HELL OUT OF YOU! HAVE AN AMAZING DAY, I HOPE EVERYTHING IS GOING GREAT ON YOUR BLOG!

[pamiart]

Just wondering if you watched RDG yet?

Yes! I’ve actually watched it when it first came out *-* I couldn’t help imagining S/H in it

[artbeacondsm]

interview with emily susanin kessinger, yellow door gallery

credit: Preservation.

Will Signs caught up with Emily Susanin Kessinger of Yellow Door Gallery to learn more about the gallery she and her husband run in their home, hear about her vision for the space, get her take on the art scene in Des Moines and discuss all things Art Week Des Moines.

Why did you decide to open Yellow Door Gallery? 

My husband, Mason, and I have a friend in D.C. (Chris Maier) who runs an amazing initiative called Little Salon. He organizes salons in other people's homes monthly and has creators come together and share their art, music, song, dance, food, drink, whatever. I loved the idea of such events and thought about trying something similar out in Chicago, where we lived before moving to Des Moines. I never got around to it in Chicago but knew it was something I'd pursue when the time was right. So, when we moved to Des Moines in 2016, we decided to try out Yellow Door Gallery – a different yet somewhat related idea here in the community – and it clicked. While our model isn't that similar to Little Salon, I give credit to Chris for the inspiration and for encouraging me to try my own version of salon hosting. Turns out, it morphed in to more that I could have imagined.

So, back to your real question: Why Yellow Door Gallery? For Des Moines. For artists. For something different, something changing, something that expands one's mind and one's view of the world.

What led to the decision to open a gallery in your home, rather than in another space?

While I'd love to have a gallery in another space, I believe Yellow Door Gallery is where it's supposed to (physically) be for now. Running a space elsewhere in Des Moines would take time and money away from other pursuits and interests that I have in life. Plus, I work full-time at Weitz doing marketing and communications, and I love my job and the people there. I enjoy having two vocations and passions that I can switch between.

What is the philosophy that drives how you choose topics and artists for exhibitions, salons and other events at Yellow Door?

I curate the gallery shows with emerging contemporary artists that are pushing boundaries, unique in their practice, and creating art, objects or installations that make me stop and think. Sometimes they're local. Sometimes they're not. Most all of the artists I have shown are friends or friends of friends or friends of friends of friends. Benjamin Gardner and Andy Davis were the first two artists to have a show at Yellow Door. They were local. I've known Andy for 15 years, and he is one of the big reasons I finally launched the space. Mostly because he kept saying, "Why not?" and I listened to that. He believed in it, and I believed it in. And it worked.

I met Benjamin Gardner thanks to Instagram, and he referred the next three artists who I showed at Yellow Door to me directly (THANKS, BEN!). Then, one of the artists he referred whose work I just LOVE, Gyan Shrosbree (of Fairfield), introduced me to the work of Katy Kirbach (of Fairfield/Chicago/Berlin). Then, Katy did a show with her extremely talented friend Zoe Nelson (now of New York). Then, an incredible artist, Heidi Wiren Bartlett, had a performance I saw in Chicago in 2015 that really stuck with me. I found out she was in Iowa City and contacted her there. She wanted to do a show with her friend Kuldeep Singh (of New York), and so it went from there. Referrals, listening to IPR, Instagram, conversations with friends and strangers – that is how exhibitions come together.

I'd say the salons and other events are similar. When you surround yourself with good people doing great things or have friends who know good people who do great things, your network widens and you feel the strength of the community. There have been a few awesome “cold calls” that I've made or that have been made of me. One that sticks out is when April and Josh Visnapuu of Open Door Rep emailed me out of the blue. I was SUPER excited to hear from them and meet them for a coffee date with Mason. They are a driven, adorable couple and were launching a pop-up theatre company. What wasn't to like, and how could I say no? WE BOTH HAD DOOR IN OUR NAMES! So, we partner quarterly and continue to support one another. It's a neat thing.

You’re originally from Des Moines, and your husband, Mason, is a transplant to the city. What are your thoughts on the art scene in Des Moines, and how have you seen it change since you've been back?

The art scene here is growing and vibrant and getting more diverse by the day. We have a freaking Kerry James Marshall now in our public art collection! Mainframe is a major attraction in our city. We have a wonderful Art Center and some rad groups within it (Art Noir, Print Club, Salon 4700). Shoot, Art Week Des Moines is a huge deal, and so is the Des Moines Arts Festival. The Barnum Factory is open and thriving. Art Terrarium in Elevencherry is hosting unique events and bringing artists and creators together. Olson-Larsen and Moberg Gallery continue to have incredible shows of local, regional and national artists, and fun events in and out of their gallery spaces. I love the OL (Olson-Larsen) Guild concept. There are various exhibition spaces around town in places one wouldn't normally think to look, including in Blackbird's Wilkins Building lobby, Baratta's at the Historical Building, Mars Cafe, The Lift and so many others. It's SWEET. And it's only going to get sweeter. I love when people come visit because there's always so much to do within the art scene.

What does Yellow Door Gallery have planned for Art Week 2018?

* RDG Dahlquist Art Studios Tour: Thursday, June 21; 5:30-7:30 p.m.

* June Exhibition Featuring Michael Velliquette and Joey Faerso: Sunday, June 24; 1-4 p.m. (exhibition open June 9 - July 8)

* Art Week Wind Down Yoga at Yellow Door Gallery: Sunday, June 24; 4-5 p.m. ($5 suggested donation)

Visit www.yellowdoordsm.com for details. See these events and others on the full Art Week Des Moines event schedule: www.artweekdesmoines.com/events

What Art Week events are you most excited to take part in?

The Artist Studio Tours that were organized this year each day of DSM Art Week are an awesome feature and super exciting to see on the lineup. I'm stoked to attend as many of those as I can. In addition, there are some great shows up during that time at Art Terrarium, Olson-Larsen and more. I'll see Betsy Hart's work at The Lift during Art Week and attend the Festival over the weekend. It's also fun to check out the Des Moines Social Club's Urban Visionaries show. So much to do in one week. Ah, I better start planning now.

Are there artists that you're looking forward to seeing at the 2018 Des Moines Arts Festival?

It's a secret.

Yellow Door Gallery is a residential alternative gallery space that is shifting the perceptions and dynamics of visual, aural, and performance art. Located in a private home in Des Moines, Iowa, the space connects emerging artists and collectors through salons, installations, concerts, and afternoon teas.

2121 Wakonda Drive

Des Moines, IA 50321

Open Sundays 1-4 p.m. or by appointment.

Interested in making an appointment or sharing your work? Contact info@yellowdoordsm.com.

[brotherseph]

Jesus Predicts His Death

March 21, 2021, Sunday Fifth Sunday of Lent (Violet) CYCLE B - YEAR I RDGS: JER 31:31-34/ PS 51:3-4. 12-13. 14-15/ HEB 5:7-9 GOSPEL: JN 12:20-33

Some Greeks who had come to worship at the Passover Feast came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee,  and asked him, “Sir, we would like to see Jesus.” Philip went and told Andrew;  then Andrew and Philip went and told Jesus. Jesus answered them,  “The hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified. Amen, amen, I say to you,  unless a grain of wheat falls to the ground and dies,  it remains just a grain of wheat;  but if it dies, it produces much fruit. Whoever loves his life loses it, and whoever hates his life in this world will preserve it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me,  and where I am, there also will my servant be. The Father will honor whoever serves me. “I am troubled now.  Yet what should I say? ‘Father, save me from this hour’? But it was for this purpose that I came to this hour. Father, glorify your name.” Then a voice came from heaven,  “I have glorified it and will glorify it again.” The crowd there heard it and said it was thunder;  but others said, “An angel has spoken to him.” Jesus answered and said,  “This voice did not come for my sake but for yours. Now is the time of judgment on this world;  now the ruler of this world will be driven out. And when I am lifted up from the earth,  I will draw everyone to myself.” He said this indicating the kind of death he would die.

GOSPEL REFLECTION:

In every death, there is life - this is the big message of Lent and of Easter. The grain of wheat will die and will through death nourish us with food. In the death of relationships, of health, of faith, and all that may be dear to us, there is always the invitation to a deeper life. In our final death is the call to everlasting life.

PRAYER:

Jesus, in this time of prayer I imagine you putting a grain of wheat into my hand. You and I chat about what it can mean. When I next eat bread, it will have a deeper significance for me. When I share in the Eucharist, I will try to be aware that it means your own life, which is blessed, broken, shared out, and consumed for the life of the world.

[carmenlidiavidu]

Jurnalul unei revoluții

La scurt timp după prima carantină impusă de coronavirus, la Teatrul Național din București a avut loc premiera spectacolului „1989. Jurnal de România” al artistei Carmen Lidia Vidu. Cunoscută drept regizor de teatru și film multimedia, Vidu a făcut deja senzație în ultimii cinci ani pe scena națională și internațională cu proiectul său „Jurnal de România”.

de Irina Wolf

În anul 2017, Vidu a fost invitată la Schauspielhaus Viena cu „Jurnal de România. Sfântu Gheorghe” și „Jurnal de România. Constanța”. Doi ani mai târziu a fost invitată la Theaterhaus Jena cu „Jurnal de România. Timișoara”. În noiembrie 2020 a câștigat Premiul feminin (acordat de municipalitatea Karlsruhe) pentru scurtmetrajul „Jurnalul meu românesc” la Festivalul Internațional de Film Independent Days din Karlsruhe.

Factorul decisiv pentru acest amplu proiect documentar, care a apărut sub titlul „Jurnal de România”, a fost un incendiu devastator din 2015, în care 64 de persoane au fost ucise într-un club din București. Incapacitatea statului de a lupta împotriva corupției și de a-și proteja cetățenii a determinat-o pe Vidu să se îndepărteze de teatrul convențional și să se implice în activități socio-politice.

În timp ce primele trei producții de teatru au fost dedicate unui număr cât mai mare de orașe românești, Vidu are în vedere răsturnarea regimului comunist în țara ei în „Jurnal de România. 1989”. Revoluția română a durat doar o săptămână; dar peste 1000 de oameni au murit în vâltoarea evenimentelor. La 25 decembrie 1989, dictatorul Nicolae Ceaușescu a fost executat. Până în prezent, circumstanțele schimbării politice din România sunt controversate. "Jurnal de România. 1989” este modul meu de a arăta că fiecare contribuie la modelarea istoriei, că atitudinea proprie este importantă", spune Vidu în broșura bine concepută a programului. Această viziune a apărut din convingerea artistului că „teatrul riscă să devină irelevant pentru comunitate” și că „autosuficiența ne conduce la izolare, deoarece ascultăm doar opiniile care ne confirmă propria părere”.

Pentru toate jurnalele, responsabilă pentru text și regie este Carmen Lidia Vidu. Procesul este întotdeauna același: în timpul procesului de creație, regizorul discută cu actorii despre viața lor privată, precum și despre implicarea lor în conturarea vieții urbane și a revoluției. Apoi materialul este vizualizat și performanțele individuale ale membrilor ansamblului respectiv sunt reunite pentru a forma un întreg coerent. Ion Caramitru, Oana Pellea, Florentina Țilea și Daniel Badale sunt cei patru protagoniști ai „Jurnalului de România. 1989”. Ei nu imită personaje, dezvăluie o parte din propria lor biografie și, mai presus de toate, descriu modul în care au trăit evenimentele turbulente din 1989. Cele patru perspective nici că ar putea fi mai diferite. Ion Caramitru, în prezent director al Teatrului Național București, avea 47 de ani în momentul revoluției și era unul dintre cei mai cunoscuți actori din România. „Fraților, am câștigat!”, a exclamat cu entuziasm în 1989 la transmisia în direct a postului de televiziune românesc TVR. Astăzi, Caramitru condamnă vehement revoluția „eșuată”. Oana Pellea, pe atunci în vârstă de 26 de ani, a răspuns în decembrie 1989 la apelul de apărare a postului de televiziune, un loc în care s-au purtat bătălii acerbe. A fost confundată cu soția unui terorist. „Nimic în viață nu este gratuit, doar moartea”, spune actrița. Cuvinte care cu siguranță vor afecta mulți spectatori.

Florentina Țilea avea doar doisprezece ani în 1989. Ea aparține generației „crescute în frică”. Țilea făcea parte din copiii aleși care urmau să recite poezii patriotice în timpul vizitelor de oraș ale lui Ceaușescu la Iași. În calitate de recitator al său, ea s-a bucurat de privilegii precum băuturi Cola, banane și călătorii în străinătate în RDG. A fost întristată de împușcarea lui Ceaușescu. Ea a vărsat chiar și câteva lacrimi. Daniel Badale este, de asemenea, un caz special. Acum 30 de ani făcea serviciul militar și ar fi trebuit să tragă asupra populației civile rebele conform ordinelor sale - ceea ce din fericire nu s-a întâmplat. Își amintește că la momentul revoluției, vehiculul său de luptă blindat era poziționat în Piața Universității din centrul Bucureștiului și în fața lui se afla, printre altele, Ion Caramitru.

Este vorba despre impresii complet diferite ale unor oameni din generații diferite, pe care Vidu le pune în scenă. Cele patru monologuri unice sunt completate de trei înregistrări video. Printre acestea se numără interviuri cu Dan Voinea (fost procuror care a investigat „dosarul Revoluției”), Germina Nagâț (membru al Consiliului Național pentru Studierea Arhivelor Securității) și cunoscutul istoric britanic Dennis Deletant (expert în comunismul românesc). Scurtele sale intervenții oferă informații importante și sunt folosite ca elemente de legătură între cele patru apariții live ale actorilor. Toate aceste povești oferă o imagine vie a timpului.

Și totuși, producțiile lui Carmen Lidia Vidu își trag seva din diferite personalități scenice, precum și din cadrul în care sunt încorporate poveștile lor respective. Fotografii bine alese din viața actorilor și a familiilor lor, secvențele video inteligente se întrepătrund și creează o imagine de ansamblu deosebit de interesantă. În cazul „Jurnalului de România. 1989”, partea multimedia joacă un rol special. Din cauza pandemiei, premiera inițial planificată pentru primăvară a trebuit amânată. Noile măsuri restrictive au însemnat că a fost prezentat în aer liber pe terasa spectaculoasă a acoperișului teatrului. În loc de peste 300 de locuri, doar 60 au putut fi puse la dispoziție în sala amfiteatrului de la etajul al șaptelea.

Mare a fost uimirea, când spectatorii proiecțiilor lui Vidu ale imaginilor care arată evenimentele dramatice ale revoluției, dar și din viața unui actor, ca să spunem așa, au fost aproape „învăluiți”: regizorul a folosit în acest scop suprafața imensă a pânzei disponibile, lungi de 33 de metri și înalte de 21 de metri, care tronează pe acoperișul clădirii. Proiecțiile nu au trecut neobservate de trecătorii din Piața Universității. Faptul că Piața Universității este denumită kilometrul zero al Revoluției, deoarece cei mai mulți oameni au murit acolo în 1989 este, de asemenea, emblematic. Trebuie menționat aici că Cristina Baciu se ocupă de abordarea multimedia, Ovidiu Zimcea este responsabil de coloana sonoră și Gabriela Schinderman este responsabilă de banda desenată, care reproduce secvența cronologică a evenimentelor. Toate contribuie la succesul producției.

Producția de teatru documentar multimedia a lui Vidu – conform subtitlului „Jurnalului de România. 1989” - este emoționantă și distractivă în același timp. Această contribuție importantă la perioada plină de evenimente din istoria României se adresează atât generației mai în vârstă care a trăit comunismul, cât și generației mai tinere, care nu este familiarizată cu dictatura lui Ceaușescu și cu evenimentele din decembrie 1989. Puține alte spectacole de pe scena teatrului românesc au stârnit atât de mult interes public în ultimii ani - un semn clar pentru cât de extraordinar și în același timp necesar este acest proiect.

[all-things-witchcraft]

Hi 💓 sorry if it seems that I'm rushing you, but in case it didn't send 😅 may I please have a in depth general reading? thank you so much 😀 I'm curious in ur rdg cuz a friend told me you're accurate 😊

Sorry for the late response! I was pretty busy. I went ahead and did the reading for you. :) Here it is!

Right away, I have the Knave of Pentacles. Automatically I’m getting from the cards that you’re a sensual person. Especially towards your friends! Tied in with this, you’re reaching your objective of having less toxic people in your life. 

There are some difficulties with your family though. It seems there is some tension between your parents. Don’t fret about it, since the Magician card says that you’re trying to make a new “reality” when it comes to your parents in a sense of changing them and trying to intervene. Everything will turn out alright, just let it flow.

School wise, something new is coming up. A big event that will require you to think about what you want to do in life, says the Judgement card. The High Priestess card talks about how you will need to use your intuition when it comes to this event.

In general about you, the 4 of Swords says that you need a lot of rest and healing. What they mean by this is that you’ve gone through a lot in the past, which made it a negative impact on your thoughts. You need to come to a truce and stop thinking so negative about yourself. Along with this is the 2 of chalices, telling you that once you stop having negative thoughts, you’ll feel happier and feel good physically! Among this is the 9 of Wands explaining that you need to be sincere with yourself, like you are with others.

Lastly, we have the Knight of Wands, The Knight of Pentacles, and the Knave of wands. You have a very creative imagination which will get you far in life. You will seek ownership over your negative thoughts and fear of failure, and be more positive. You will have a new way of thinking and it’ll brighten your future up as the days go by.

There you go! I hope this helped and was accurate in some way. I’m still learning so, bear with me. :^) Let me know how you feel about the reading!

[ayonixanimations]

Kagerou Project x Voltron

Can you imagine Lance and Keith in the setting of Kagerou Project's song 'Kagerou Days'? Yeah, no thank you. I have made a mistake in imagining it. Here's the link to the song. Warning. It has violent themes such as multiple death scenes, lyrics describing said death scenes and a suicidal/sacrifice play aspect. https://youtu.be/MU-rdG-M5Ho If you don't want to watch the song, cool. It's basically about this boy who has a crush on this girl. In a dreamscape like world, she jumps out in front of a truck by accident while chasing a cat. The boy holds her, sees a version of himself who says "What you see is exactly what you're gonna get", and the boy passes out. He wakes up, it being the same day as that weird dream he just had. He meets the girl in the park and is a bit suspicious because of him having déjà vu and tells her of his dream. Him stating "Hey but I, I really have to wonder why. 'cause in the dream I had last night we sat in the same old park, we are sitting in now." She's confused when he stops her from chasing the cat, but lets him lead her away from the road she got hit on in the dream. They're walking along the sidewalk and a construction beam slices right through her, obviously killing her. The boy passes out again, and wakes up, just like the morning before. It's basically Groundhog Day, if you've seen that movie. Or that one Supernatural episode. (It's more like the Supernatural episode if you know what I'm talking about, but I won't spoil it) The boy tried again and again to save her, leading her away from the spots she got killed last time, and protecting her, but she dies every time. He gets sick of this (stating that he's been doing this for ten years) and when the day restarts he tries to stop her and jumps in front of the truck, pushing her out the way. He is released he could save her, deposited dying instead. As he loses consciousness he sees another version of the girl, like the one of him that's been following him around. The screen fades black, only to show that the girl has been going through the same thing. Every time they sacrifice themselves it switches to the other one trying to save them. The girl proving this by stating "Guess I failed again" when she woke up. It's a vicious cycle. I am very sad my brain randomly supplies me with angst prompts. Mostly for the innocent couples or innocent characters.

[theroncook]

“Don't think about making art, just get it done. Let everyone else decide if it's good or bad, whether they love it or hate it. While they are deciding, make even more art.” -Andy Warhol Don’t Quit! 🦋 #theroncookart @theroncook @butterfli3ffect Your invited to the: “Imagine” Art Workshop Sat. October 12th 6-9pm Reading Public Museum Message me for #tickets or get your tickets here: https://www.eventbrite.com/e/imagine-art-workshop-tickets-70379419739 #art #inspiration #motivation #workshop #museum #rdg #contemporaryart #fashion #painting #artlovers #artcollector #video #butterfly #abstractart #love #culture #community #imagine #creative #design #future #complexcon #andywarhol https://www.instagram.com/p/B3M9jRInoU6/?igshid=iy6g3ev3q0cj

[lixchn]

hi~ i'm the resident gay dork who also loves corgis and seems to be too shy to come off anon - RGD ♡

ah hi my love how are you???