#mean stack developer skill

[tripta-123]

MERN Stack Development in Demand

Explore the roles and responsibilities of a MEAN stack developer why it is in-demand and what kind of skills are required to become an in-demand developer.

[ghostlynightpanda]

Could you write something for Ranpo Edogawa x ADA member, where reader gets threateningly letters from a stalker and maybe the stalker kills someone at one point because that person got too close to reader? And the other ADA members protect reader, but especially Ranpo?

Closer Than You Think

English is not my first language, so if you find mistakes, feel free to contact me!

synopsis: After receiving a series of threatening letters from a stalker, you find yourself under the Agency's watchful protection — but it's Ranpo Edogawa who notices your hidden fear the most. As the danger escalates, Ranpo's fierce determination to keep you safe reveals feelings between you that neither of you can ignore.

content/warnings: Ranpo Edogawa x reader, angst and fluff, stalking, -5.605 words

The morning light spilled across the Armed Detective Agency office in warm, golden stripes, and for once, things were almost peaceful.

You leaned back in your chair, spinning a small letter opener between your fingers with practiced ease, while the faint, near-invisible threads of your ability danced around your desk. They coiled lightly around your coffee cup, your stack of case files, the clock on the wall — little anchors, subconscious habits you'd developed after years of wielding your power without thinking. Hidden strings, fine as spider silk and strong as steel, were an extension of yourself now.

Across the room, Atsushi was arguing — politely — with Kunikida about paperwork, Kenji was cheerfully building a precarious tower of staplers, and Dazai… well, Dazai was pretending to nap on the couch, no doubt scheming something.

Normal. Comfortable.

Until he spoke.

"You're slouching," came Ranpo's obnoxiously bright voice from behind you. "Terrible posture. Terrible detective instincts. Very amateur."

You didn't even turn around. "Good morning, Edogawa-san," you said dryly, emphasizing the formal address you knew he hated. "And thank you so much for your unsolicited opinion."

Ranpo strolled into view, lollipop between his teeth, grinning like he’d already solved a case you didn’t know existed.

"You know," he said, hopping up to sit cross-legged on the edge of your desk — ignoring your obvious scowl — "if you asked nicely, I could teach you a few things. Improve your skills. Help you out."

You twitched one finger; a single hidden thread snapped taut between your hand and the mug on your desk. It shot into the air — and thwacked Ranpo in the forehead with a satisfying thunk.

He yelped and nearly toppled off the desk.

Kenji giggled from across the room. Dazai opened one eye lazily, smirked, and closed it again.

"You're so violent," Ranpo muttered, rubbing his forehead, looking genuinely wounded. "No respect for your elders. For the greatest detective of our generation."

You leaned back in your chair and propped your boots up on a file cabinet. "Maybe if the 'greatest detective' would stop treating me like his personal audience, I'd be more civil."

Ranpo grinned wider. If anything, he seemed delighted by your irritation.

You sighed internally. This was your daily reality at the ADA.

You were respected, sure. They trusted you with the tough missions, the dangerous assignments. Your ability made you lethal in close combat, and your mind was sharp enough to navigate the darker corners of the criminal world they often worked in.

But Ranpo — Ranpo was a different kind of challenge.

He wasn’t cruel, or mean. Just... endlessly infuriating.

He never missed a chance to show off when you were around, tossing around impossible deductions and stealing your victories right out from under your nose. He wasn't content with your polite acknowledgment, either — no, he wanted you awed, like the others were.

And you? You weren't about to give him the satisfaction.

"Hey," Ranpo said suddenly, plucking another lollipop from his pocket and holding it out to you, his voice lighter. "You want one? It's grape. Your favorite, right?"

You blinked.

You'd never told him that.

Still, you shook your head. "I'll pass."

Ranpo shrugged, popping it into his own mouth with a wink. "Suit yourself. More genius fuel for me."

You fought the urge to smile — and fought harder against the strange flutter in your chest.

God, he wasso annoying.

And yet... somehow, your mornings felt incomplete without these ridiculous battles.

You didn't notice the envelope at first.

Morning slipped into afternoon in a familiar blur of case reports and coffee runs. A client dropped off a simple theft investigation; Atsushi and Junichiro ran off after a suspicious lead; Kenji accidentally knocked over a filing cabinet; Yosano was off shopping. 

The usual chaos.

It wasn't until you returned from the break room — coffee in one hand, a fresh stack of papers in the other — that you saw it.

Sitting there. Right in the center of your desk. A white envelope. Stark. Ordinary. Except for the dark red smudge staining the corner.

Your steps faltered.

The chatter around the office continued unabated — Dazai teasing Kunikida about his strict schedules, Kenji laughing about something you couldn't quite hear — but for you, everything seemed to narrow in on that single, misplaced object.

Blood.

You set your coffee down slowly. The envelope wasn’t addressed. No name, no markings. Just the sticky, ugly stain seeping into the paper.

For a long second, you simply stared at it.

Then, with a muttered curse under your breath, you plucked it off the desk, careful not to touch the blood. A few threads snaked out instinctively from your fingertips, ready to snap tight at the first hint of a trap — but nothing happened.

The envelope was heavy. Something inside it shifted slightly when you tilted it. 

You broke the seal, and a thin, folded letter slid out onto your desk.

Blocky, uneven handwriting sprawled across the page.

I see you. I see how they look at you. But you're mine. Talk to them again, and they’ll die for it. One by one. Starting with the boy who smiled at you yesterday.

Your mouth tightened.

The boy yesterday…

Your mind flashed back to a minor incident on the street — a civilian you'd saved two days ago. He'd recognized you yesterday when you passed by the coffee shop, waved at you brightly, thanked you again.

Harmless.

At the time.

A slow, cold crawl worked its way up your spine.

"Yo," Ranpo's voice chirped from somewhere to your left. "You reading love letters now?"

You hastily folded the letter in half, stuffing it back into the envelope.

"Nope," you said, too casually. "Just junk mail."

Ranpo tilted his head, eyeing you in that way he did when he was about to rattle off some uncomfortable truth. 

But for once, he stayed silent. Just frowned faintly around the edges of his candy.

You tossed the envelope into your bottom drawer without another glance and slammed it shut.

Out of sight. Out of mind.

You’d dealt with worse threats before. Some creep trying to scare you with anonymous notes wasn’t worth losing sleep over.

Besides — you had a mission report to finish, groceries to buy, and Kenji to stop from stacking three more chairs on top of the filing cabinet.

Life moved on.

You made sure it did.

Later that night, when the Agency closed and the others headed out into the neon-lit streets, Ranpo lingered behind.

He perched casually on the arm of the couch, watching you pack your things with a thoughtful expression.

"You're acting weird," he said, not bothering to hide the statement behind a joke this time.

You shrugged, pulling your bag onto your shoulder. "Maybe I'm just sick of your voice."

Ranpo smirked, but it didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Yeah," he said slowly, lollipop stick flicking between his teeth. "Maybe."

You left without another word, weaving through the familiar streets toward home, telling yourself it was nothing. That you were fine. That the uneasiness sitting in your gut was just paranoia.

You didn't notice the shadow following you from a rooftop above. Or the flash of silver as something reflective caught the moonlight. Or the figure that melted into the alley behind you, silent as a whisper.

But someone did.

Someone who stepped out of the Agency a minute after you. Who narrowed sharp green eyes in the direction you'd walked. Who sucked thoughtfully on a piece of candy, then crumpled the wrapper between his fingers with slow, deliberate care.

Ranpo Edogawa wasn’t the type to worry.

But tonight?

Tonight, something told him he'd better start.

The next letter arrived two days later.

This time, it came with the regular morning post — buried between an electric bill and a new case file — and dropped unceremoniously onto your desk by the mail carrier.

You spotted it immediately.

Same plain white envelope. Same dark, sticky red mark. This time, it had your name scrawled across the front in that same jagged, uneven handwriting.

A chill licked up your spine despite yourself.

You snatched it up quickly before anyone else could see.

From across the room, Ranpo’s eyes flicked up from his candy stash — casual, almost bored — but you caught the glint of attention there. Watching.

You turned your body slightly away from him as you opened the letter, scanning it quickly.

They don't deserve you. They don't know what you are. But I do. You're perfect. You're mine. Talk to them again, and I'll make them bleed for you. I'll show you.

The skin at the back of your neck prickled. You folded the letter neatly and slipped it into your jacket.

No big deal.

It was just a scare tactic. Empty threats.

You'd dealt with actual assassins before. Professional killers. Supernatural freaks who could level city blocks. One obsessed lunatic scribbling notes wasn't going to throw you off balance.

Still, you were careful to erase your expression before turning back to the others.

Kunikida caught your movement out of the corner of his eye. "Something wrong?" he asked, setting down his pen.

You forced a shrug. "Just junk mail again. Wrong address, probably."

He frowned slightly — Kunikida’s natural state — but let it drop.

For now.

The third letter came the next morning.

Then the fourth.

Then the fifth.

Always the same: hidden among the regular mail, faint traces of blood smudging the paper, and darker words inside — promises of violence, obsession, possession.

You hid them all.

Not because you were scared — at least, that’s what you told yourself — but because the others already had enough to worry about.

You were strong. You could handle this. You had your strings, your skills, your instincts. You didn't need anyone babysitting you.

At least, that was the plan.

Until the morning Dazai caught you.

You were sitting at your desk, carefully unfolding the latest letter — red thumbprint pressed messily into the paper — when a shadow fell over you.

"What's that?" Dazai asked, peering over your shoulder.

You startled, quickly folding the letter again. "Nothing."

"That didn't look like nothing," he said, smiling lazily but with a glint of something sharper underneath.

Ranpo, from his seat near the window, lifted his head just slightly — subtle, but enough to let you know he'd heard, too.

"It's fine," you said quickly. "Probably just some prank. Nothing serious."

Atsushi, standing nearby with an armful of case files, frowned in concern. "Prank? Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," you said firmly.

Kenji popped up from behind a filing cabinet, bright-eyed as ever. "If someone's bothering you, we can all help! Right, Kunikida-san?"

Kunikida adjusted his glasses, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. "It's probably nothing," he said eventually, though his voice was tight. "But just in case... keep an eye out. Don't take unnecessary risks."

You gave them your best confident smile.

"I'm fine," you said again.

They didn’t look fully convinced.

Dazai tilted his head, watching you far too closely. "You know," he mused, tapping a finger against his chin, "it's usually the ones who say 'I'm fine' who are secretly the most not-fine."

You rolled your eyes, but Ranpo’s gaze stayed pinned to you even after the others drifted back to their work.

He didn't say anything.

Not yet.

But you could feel it — like the tension in the air before a storm. Like one of your hidden strings, stretched too tight across a battlefield.

Something was pulling.

And you had the creeping feeling you wouldn't be able to brush it off much longer.

Later that night, you walked home alone again, your bag slung over your shoulder, the letters weighing heavier than you wanted to admit.

You told yourself you were imagining it — the feeling of eyes on your back, the flicker of motion just out of sight.

Still, without thinking, you extended a thread behind you, connecting it to a lamppost. A second thread wrapped around a trash bin.

A third threaded quietly through the air, like a spider laying down warning lines.

Nothing triggered them.

No attackers.

No visible threats.

And yet…

A block behind you, pressed flat into the darkness of a storefront awning, a figure waited.

Watching.

Waiting.

And higher up, from a rooftop bathed in silver moonlight, another figure stood — silent, green eyes sharp, arms crossed.

Ranpo Edogawa's mouth twisted into a small, grim smile.

He didn't need his ability to know something was wrong.

He could see it plain as day:

You were lying. You were scared.

And someone — someone stupid enough to think they could hurt you — was about to find out exactly why the Armed Detective Agency was feared by enemies far and wide.

Especially when it came to one of their own.

The morning started like any other.

Light filtered in through the wide windows of the Agency, the dust motes dancing lazily in the beams. You sat at your desk, boots crossed at the ankles, pretending to skim through a report while your mind wandered elsewhere.

The others were moving around the office like usual.

Almost normal.

Almost.

Until the delivery came.

"Package for Y/N L/N!" the mail carrier called, cheerful and oblivious, setting a small, neatly wrapped box on your desk.

You frowned immediately.

You weren't expecting anything. No one had mentioned sending a package. No return address.

The others looked up too, curiosity piqued. Atsushi started to approach, Kenji peeking around the corner.

Ranpo, sitting nearby munching on a fresh pack of candies, narrowed his eyes sharply the moment he saw the box.

You hesitated.

Your instincts screamed.

A thin thread slithered invisibly from your fingertips, wrapping around the box, feeling for traps — pressure plates, explosives, the taut sensation of a wire rigged to blow.

Nothing.

Just a box. Heavy. Cold.

Slowly, carefully, you pulled the tape loose with your ability, keeping your body tense, ready to react.

The lid slid open.

The smell hit you first.

Heavy, coppery, wrong.

Atsushi recoiled. Kenji made a small, shocked noise.

Inside the box — resting on a bed of pristine white cloth — was a human heart. Still glistening wet.

Pinned to it with a bloodstained needle was a folded scrap of paper.

You stared.

Your mind felt blank for a moment — a buzzing silence flooding through you, loud and smothering — before the words on the paper burned themselves into your vision:

See? I told you I'd do it. No one touches what's mine. You smiled at him. He smiled back. He won't smile at anyone again.

The world tilted slightly.

Atsushi swore under his breath. Kenji backed away, pale. Even Kunikida dropped his pen, the sharp clatter echoing like a gunshot across the room.

Dazai pushed off the wall where he’d been lounging, face suddenly serious.

Ranpo stood up slowly, candy forgotten between his fingers, the rare weight of true anger settling into his frame.

"Y/N," Kunikida said tightly, striding over to you. "What the hell is going on?"

You swallowed hard, forcing air into your lungs. Your hands — steady from years of combat — shook slightly as you pulled open the bottom drawer of your desk.

One by one, you laid the letters out.

Five in total. All marked by blood. All increasingly unhinged.

A sick trail leading to this moment.

"I didn't think—" you started, voice rougher than you wanted. "I thought it was just... someone messing around. A prank. I didn't want to bother anyone."

"Bother—?" Kunikida’s voice cracked with fury. He jabbed a finger at the gruesome package. "This is not a prank, Y/N. This is a threat. A clear, violent threat against you and anyone around you!"

Kenji looked like he might be sick.

Atsushi hovered near you like he wasn't sure whether to shield you or tackle you into protective custody.

Even Dazai, master of easygoing detachment, looked grim.

And Ranpo —

Ranpo was still.

Not the usual lounging, lazy stillness he wore like a second skin.

No, this was something coiled. Tense. Sharp.

His green eyes — usually full of lazy amusement — were hard and glinting like shattered glass.

"No more walking alone," Kunikida snapped, already pulling out his planner and phone at the same time. "Effective immediately, you're assigned an escort at all times. Grocery trips, coffee runs, everything. Someone will be with you."

You opened your mouth to argue, but the look on Kunikida’s face made you snap it shut again.

Dazai smiled faintly. "Don’t think of it as babysitting," he said. "Think of it as... enthusiastic friendship."

Kenji nodded vigorously. "We'll protect you, Y/N-san! No matter what!"

You exhaled shakily, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes for a moment.

This wasn’t just annoying anymore. This was serious. Someone had killed — had murdered — a man because he smiled at you.

And you’d been so damn sure you could handle it yourself.

When you finally lifted your head again, Ranpo was right there.

Closer than before.

He didn't say anything — just reached out, almost awkwardly, and brushed a crumb off your jacket. His hand lingered for half a second longer than necessary, hovering near your shoulder, before he tucked it back into his pocket.

"You should’ve told me," he said quietly, voice stripped of his usual teasing tone.

You looked away.

"I didn’t think you’d care."

Ranpo let out a soft, breathless laugh — not mocking, not smug. Almost… wounded.

"You idiot," he said, shaking his head slowly. "I care more than you think."

The words were light. Easy to miss. Like he was offering you an escape hatch if you wanted it — the ability to pretend he was joking, if it hurt too much to believe otherwise.

But when you dared to glance back at him, his expression was deadly serious.

You didn't know what to say.

Luckily, you didn’t have to.

Because at that exact moment, Kunikida barked an order: "Everyone. Meeting. Now."

The Agency pulled together fast — Dazai, Kunikida, Atsushi, Kenji, Junichiro and Yosano forming a protective wall around you as they strategized.

Plans. Schedules. Rotating escorts.

And at the heart of it all, Ranpo standing just a little closer than necessary, sharp eyes never leaving you.

Watching. Guarding. Waiting.

Because if this stalker thought they could terrify you, isolate you, break you —

They clearly hadn’t counted on the full weight of the Armed Detective Agency crashing down on them.

And they definitely hadn’t counted on Ranpo Edogawa’s anger.

The Agency transformed overnight.

Where once your days had been filled with quiet missions and easy camaraderie, now every breath you took felt like it was being monitored.

Not in a cruel way. Not because they didn't trust you.

Because they cared.

And that — somehow — made it worse.

You couldn’t go anywhere alone.

Not even to the damn vending machine downstairs.

Kunikida accompanied you on coffee runs, armed with a notebook and a gun hidden in his jacket.

Dazai draped himself dramatically over your desk whenever you stood up, whining that it was too dangerous for you to even fetch your own documents.

Kenji insisted on carrying your groceries, proudly swinging your shopping bags over his shoulder like war trophies.

Junichiro trailed behind you during evening walks, his steps too quiet, his hand twitching toward his hidden blade whenever someone so much as looked at you wrong.

Atsushi hovered like an anxious guard dog, jumping at shadows and offering to "help" with anything that involved you leaving your chair.

It would’ve been almost funny — if it wasn’t so exhausting.

The final blow came when Yosano showed up at your doorstep that night, suitcase in hand, smirking like she was doing you a massive favor.

"I’m moving in temporarily," she announced without preamble, brushing past you into your apartment. "Doctor’s orders."

"Whose doctor’s orders?" you grumbled, glaring at her.

"Mine," she said sweetly. "And Kunikida's. And Fukuzawa’s."

You blinked.

"Wait, Fukuzawa agreed to this?"

Yosano dropped her bag with a heavy thud. "He insisted."

You sat there for a long moment, slumped against the doorframe, feeling like the last tiny threads of normalcy in your life had finally snapped.

When you'd first joined the Armed Detective Agency, you'd marveled at how fiercely they protected their own. How stubbornly they fought for the people they cared about.

You just never thought you'd be on the receiving end of it.

It was... overwhelming. And kind of beautiful. And absolutely driving you insane.

The next morning, Fukuzawa himself called you into his office.

He didn't waste time with pleasantries.

"You are one of us," he said simply, his quiet voice carrying more weight than a shout. "The Agency protects its own. Until this threat is eliminated, you will accept the help offered to you. No arguments."

You opened your mouth to argue anyway — a reflex — but Fukuzawa’s sharp look pinned you in place.

He set a hand gently on your shoulder.

"We will find whoever is behind this," he said. "I promise you."

The simple certainty in his voice — no grand speeches, no hollow comforts — made something in your chest tighten painfully.

You nodded, unable to find words.

And through it all —

Ranpo watched.

Always a few steps away. Always half-distracted by candy or a case file. Always pretending to be bored out of his mind.

But never far.

He never said anything about the way you flinched sometimes when the mail came. Or the way you checked the windows twice before leaving the Agency. Or how your hand sometimes twitched toward your hidden strings when a stranger got too close.

He just... stayed.

Silent. Constant. A shadow you could rely on even when you didn’t want to admit you needed anyone.

You didn't realize until much later — when the weight of everything almost crushed you — how much that silent support mattered.

One night, a few days into the full-blown protection campaign, you found yourself sitting on your tiny apartment balcony, knees pulled up to your chest.

Yosano was inside, noisily rearranging your kitchen for some reason only she understood.

The city lights blurred into smudges in the night air.

You heard the balcony door creak softly, but you didn’t turn.

You already knew who it was.

Ranpo.

He sat down next to you without a word, his jacket brushing yours lightly.

For a long while, the two of you just sat there.

The night was cold, but you didn’t feel it.

"You hate it," he said eventually, voice soft and wry.

"Hate what?"

"This," he gestured vaguely at the Agency’s newfound babysitting project. "Everyone fussing over you. Smothering you."

You shrugged, resting your chin on your knees. "It’s not... bad. I know why they’re doing it. I just... I don’t want them to see me like this. Like I’m weak."

Ranpo was quiet for a moment.

Then he said, very quietly: "You’re the strongest one here, you know."

You snorted. "Yeah, right."

"I’m serious," Ranpo said, almost sharply. "You kept it together. You didn’t break. Even when you should’ve. Even when anyone else would have."

You turned your head slightly, surprised by the intensity in his voice.

Ranpo wasn’t looking at you.

He was looking out over the city, jaw clenched, hands shoved deep into his jacket pockets. "But you’re not invincible," he added, softer now. "You shouldn’t have to be."

The words settled between you like fresh snowfall — quiet, heavy, undeniable.

You swallowed hard, throat tight. "...Thanks," you muttered finally.

Ranpo just shrugged.

"No big deal," he said — but his shoulders relaxed slightly, like you’d lifted some unseen weight off them too.

Neither of you said anything else after that.

You just sat there — two silent shadows against the growing darkness — watching the city lights blink like distant stars.

Waiting for the storm that was coming.

Waiting for the moment when the hidden enemy would finally make their move.

And when they did...

They would find out the hard way: You were never alone. Not anymore.

The letters had gotten worse.

Sharper. Hateful.

They shifted from desperate admiration to barely-contained rage.

The last one — delivered just two days ago — was almost a scrawl, ink smeared and heavy, words pressed so hard into the paper they tore through:

They're always around you. They won't let you breathe. I see it. I hate it. But don't worry. I'll fix it. I'll get you all to myself soon.

You hadn’t shown the others that one.

You didn’t have to.

Ranpo had looked at you that afternoon — really looked at you — and his mouth had tightened into a thin, grim line. You knew he understood. Even without words.

That night was the first time you were alone.

Yosano had been called away for an urgent assignment — a mission outside the city that needed her healing ability immediately.

She'd been furious about it, but Fukuzawa had assured her — and you — that the Agency would keep an extra eye on you tonight.

Still, you felt exposed.

The apartment was too quiet without Yosano’s sarcastic commentary echoing from the kitchen.

You locked every door. Checked every window. Threaded your invisible strings along every entrance like razor-thin tripwires.

Just in case.

And then you tried to sleep.

You woke to the sound of glass shattering.

Your body moved on instinct — rolling out of bed, crouching low, pulling a blade from under the mattress.

The darkness was thick and heavy, but you caught the shift of a shadow moving in your living room.

Too fast. Too bold.

Whoever it was — they knew the layout.

They weren't afraid.

You reached out with your ability, invisible threads spinning into the air, connecting silently to the floor, the doorframe, the walls. Anchoring yourself.

Waiting.

Listening.

The floor creaked again — and this time you heard it:

The rough, excited breathing. The low murmur of your name.

"Y/N..." the voice rasped. "So beautiful... so much better without them around…"

Your heart hammered against your ribs.

The stalker.

He was here.

He thought he had you.

You slipped silently to the door of your bedroom, strings already attaching themselves to the nearest heavy object — a chair — and the knife at your hip.

You could fight.

You would fight.

You waited for him to step into the doorway — the faint silhouette of a man, knife glinting faintly in the dark.

He was mumbling under his breath, eyes wide and crazed, swinging a blade loosely at his side.

You tightened the strings between your fingers — ready to launch the chair at him, disarm him, end this —

But you didn't get the chance.

Because before you could move, the front door exploded inward.

Two figures surged through the door:

Dazai, with a disturbingly cheerful smile, and Kunikida, already barking orders like a sergeant.

"You’re under arrest," Kunikida snapped, gun drawn and steady. "Put the weapon down!"

The stalker whirled, shocked and wild-eyed — but he didn’t drop the knife.

Instead, he lunged forward, straight for the broken window.

Trying to escape.

You moved to intercept him — your strings lashing out like a whip — but once again, someone beat you to it.

Ranpo.

He was already inside, moving faster than you'd ever seen him move, his expression stripped of its usual lazy amusement.

There was nothing playful in his face now — only cold, sharp focus.

In a single, almost casual movement, he tripped the stalker — sweeping his legs out from under him — and slammed him face-first into the floor with a vicious crack of impact.

The knife clattered out of the man's hand, spinning harmlessly across the floor.

Blood smeared against your hardwood floorboards.

The stalker howled — but it was a pitiful, broken sound.

Ranpo stood over him, breathing hard, his foot pressing firmly into the small of the man’s back.

"You thought you could hurt her," Ranpo said, his voice terrifyingly soft. "You thought we wouldn’t see this coming.“ He leaned down, green eyes gleaming with cold fury. "You’re dumber than I thought."

The stalker whimpered something unintelligible — and then Dazai was there, expertly cuffing him with casual efficiency, whistling under his breath.

"Honestly," Dazai said lightly, "if you're going to stalk someone from the Armed Detective Agency, at least try to be good at it."

Kunikida was already on his phone, calling it in.

You sank back against the wall, heart pounding.

The adrenaline was burning through you, leaving you shaky and cold.

Ranpo straightened and turned to you.

For a long moment, he just looked at you — really looked — like he was checking for injuries, counting every breath you took.

Then he stepped closer.

And without asking, without warning —

He wrapped his arms around you.

Not tight. Not possessive. Just there — a solid, steady weight anchoring you back to earth.

"You’re okay," he said quietly into your hair. "You’re safe."

You didn’t realize you were shaking until he said it.

You buried your face in his jacket for a second, letting yourself breathe him in — sugar, paper, the faint crispness of rain outside.

Alive. Safe. Protected.

By the time the police arrived, you were composed again — standing tall, weapon still in hand, as they dragged the stalker away.

But Ranpo never left your side.

Not for a second.

And when the others finally relaxed, giving you soft smiles and congratulations, Ranpo caught your hand under the cover of his jacket — a small, secret squeeze.

"I'm not going anywhere," he whispered so only you could hear.

You squeezed back.

Neither were you.

The apartment was quiet again. But this time, it wasn't an oppressive silence. It was peaceful.

The broken window had been boarded up temporarily, the glass swept away, the blood cleaned. Dazai, Kunikida, and the police had finally left after triple-checking every lock and securing the building.

Yosano had already called twice, furious she wasn’t here for the action.

You promised her you were fine. You didn’t know if she believed you, but you meant it.

For the first time in what felt like weeks — you were breathing easy again.

You stepped out onto the balcony, the cool night air brushing against your skin like a balm. The stars were dim under the city lights, but you didn’t care.

You leaned against the railing, closing your eyes, feeling the tension bleed out of your bones.

The door behind you creaked.

Ranpo’s presence was as familiar now as your own heartbeat.

He stepped outside, two lollipops dangling from his hand. Without a word, he offered you on, before he settled beside you, close enough that your shoulders brushed.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

You just… existed together, in the quiet. In the safety you had fought so hard to reclaim.

The lollipop tasted like cheap cherry flavoring.

Ranpo shifted, leaning his elbows on the railing, gazing out at the city.

"You did good, you know," he said after a while, his voice lighter than it had been all night. "Kept your head. Stayed smart. Didn't panic."

You smiled faintly around the candy. "I had good teachers," you said, nudging him gently with your elbow.

He grinned — that cocky, lopsided grin you usually wanted to smack off his face — but tonight it was softer.

Grateful.

But then his smile faded a little, eyes turning more serious.

He fiddled with the stick of his lollipop, twisting it between his fingers. "You know," he said, almost too casually, "it... it scared me. More than it should have."

You blinked, glancing at him.

Ranpo never admitted fear. Not even on the worst days.

"You?" you said lightly, trying to tease him out of whatever heavy mood was clouding him. "The great Ranpo Edogawa? Scared?"

He didn’t laugh. Instead, he tilted his head back, letting the city lights paint faint shadows across his sharp features.

"I’m not good with... people," he said quietly. "Not really. I don't notice when people are upset. I don't know what to say when someone’s hurting."

He paused, the lollipop stick stilling between his fingers.

"But when you…" He swallowed. "When you started getting those letters, when you started acting like everything was fine even though you were shaking inside —"

His hands curled into fists against the railing. "I noticed."

You stared at him, heart thudding.

Ranpo turned his head, meeting your gaze — and for once, there was no smirk, no clever mask, no teasing glint in his eyes. Only honesty.

"I noticed everything," he said softly. "Because it was you."

The breath caught in your throat.

Ranpo looked down, a little sheepish now, scuffing his shoe against the concrete.

"I guess what I'm trying to say is…" He huffed a frustrated sound, like the words didn’t fit right in his mouth. "... I care. More than I should. More than makes sense."

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest.

You reached out before you could stop yourself, fingers brushing against his hand resting on the railing.

He froze at the contact, wide green eyes flicking up to meet yours.

You smiled — small, real, a little shaky.

"It makes perfect sense," you whispered.

Ranpo let out a breath — a short, disbelieving laugh, like he hadn’t dared hope you'd say that.

Slowly, carefully, he turned his hand under yours, lacing your fingers together.

His palm was warm. Solid. Steadying.

You squeezed his hand, feeling the last of the fear, the anxiety, the isolation drain away.

You weren’t alone. You never had been.

And now — you never would be again.

The two of you sat there until the stars disappeared into the dawn light, hands entwined, silent and safe.

For the first time in a long time, you didn’t have to watch the shadows. You had someone who would do it for you.

Someone who would always notice — even when you tried to hide.

And somehow, that made all the difference.

Masterlist

[boatemlag]

like importantly irt ccs complaining abt certain aspects of minecraft being "too OP" like OK:

1. you play minecraft at least 6-8 hours a day, your idea of timeframe is skewed

2. not everyone knows how to do that

3. you can actively choose to slow down or not take the easy route, all of these things are deeply optional

4. minecraft for me at least is not about hoarding resources, its a sandbox game about creating (and also playing with my friends/seeing what they're creating) and exploring the world. having access to infrastructure like farms or travel like the nether roof or elytra opens up the world in a way that means i have access to work on these projects as opposed to struggling to get a stack of mangrove logs. if you want to make that aspect intentionally difficult for yourself, you can

5. irt elytra, it took me a full year to get elytra on my singleplayer world, and i dont have a gunpowder farm, so i have to use them sparingly. because i am bad at pve so the dragon fight was intimidating to me. i used a resource pack that makes the dragon drop elytra bc im bad at raiding end cities. do u get my point. your skill at a game making it boring to you is not a problem of the developers. this happens with literally every game. (thinking abt ppl complaining abt spiral abyss being too easy in genshin like omfg get over it)

this is just the top of the barrel of my arguments and gripes but yeah i think generally just remember that mcyts and ccs are out of touch with the majority of the playerbase tbh

[jorunna-mochi]

Dandy's World Easter Update Concept!!!

Hi so way back in February me and a few friends got together to make a concept for what a Dandy's World Easter Event would be like, because we didn't think one would happen-at least not this year-but as we can see that didn't end up being true. so in light of the new easter event right around the corner, I speedran making 'official' art for the four characters we made together to get out before it drops!

Let me introduce you to the cast!

Things will be brief and explained directly in a linear format. (we are not affiliated with BlushCrunch Studio, any possible similarities at any point are entirely coincidence!)

Bonbon the Chocolate Rabbit! [Main Character]

Everyone give a warm welcome (or maybe not, he might melt!) to Bonbon! Our Main Character!

He's your typical depiction of the easter bunny, he's happy go lucky, he's kind, he's a small bit mischievous, but under that mask he is on an ever present downward spiral! Imagine if you were a holiday toon and the date of your holiday changed every year! You might be a bit upset too! He holds a dislike for other holiday toons because of it, envying their 'stability'. Maybe someday you'll get a single date Bonbon, maybe some day. But for now, best keep the kids happy with your chocolate eggs!

Trinket: Chocolate Rabbits Foot Gives a random stat increase upon picking up an item for 5 seconds. Effect cannot stack. (Includes Tapes and Capsules.)

Stats: 🖤🤍🤍 Skill Check ⭐️⭐️ Movement Speed ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Stamina ⭐️⭐️ Stealth ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Extraction speed ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Abilities:

[Active Ability] Basket Surprise! In 3 seperate bursts, this Toon can give a targeted Toon any random item. Cooldown of 100 seconds. (cooldown subject to change)

[Passive Ability] Found Something! For every item this Toon picks up, Active Ability cooldown is reduced by 5%, capping at 50%. Refreshes every floor.

Twisted: “One of the Holiday Main Characters of Dandy’s World. Fed up with the inconsistencies surrounding his being this Twisted has hopped into a maddening spiral. He will hide a little surprise for unsuspecting Toons and go for the kill when it is found.”

He puts fake event currency around the map! And it airhorns when you pick it up! And he's like Vee in that instance! Haha! I'm not sorry to the people who constantly pick up Rodger.

Dialogue + 3 Interactions:

Bonbon was created by @jorunna-mochi (me)

Lassie the Hot Cross Bun! [Rare]

Lets continue on with our tunnel vision queen, Lassie! Our Rare picnic host!

“Spring is Lassie’s favourite season! If there’s one thing she knows, it’s how to have fun during it! She’s always up for an egg hunt, and she never forgets to pack some fun treats to cool down afterwards with a nice picnic.”

Trinket: Picnic Basket After being spotted by a Twisted, speed increases by 15% for 8 seconds. Can be activated every 100 seconds.

Stats: 🤍🤍🤍 Skill Check ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️ Movement Speed ⭐️⭐️⭐️ Stamina ⭐️⭐️ Stealth ⭐️ Extraction speed ⭐️⭐️⭐️⭐️

Ability:

[Active Ability] Found you! While extracting, this Toon can toss a handful of flowers into the air, marking the locations of all Twisteds within a certain radius. This effect stops when she stops extracting. Cooldown of 80.

Twisted: "This twisted wanders blindly in search for something she can no longer hold… Although awareness has never been her strong suit, as a Twisted Lassie has developed other means of search to make up for her lost sight. The buzz of faulty machines never escapes her, and when startled she emits clouds of ichor pollen, alerting any Twisteds in her path. Thankfully, these clouds don’t seem to be toxic to Toons."

Surprise! A blind Twisted! A silly, silly gal with an abnormally wide detection radius for skill check failures, plus the ability to aggro surrounding Twisteds when chasing, causing them to follow her! This includes running to skill check fails! Isn't that fun? Haha.

Dialogue + 3 Interactions:

Lassie made by @choctalksalot

Eggbert the Easter Egg! [Uncommon]

Up next is a Toon of few words, Eggbert! Our Uncommon egg of surprises!

"A toon of few words, one who struggles to come out of his shell, Eggbert is a beautifully painted easter egg. Though he may come off as closed off, he’s trying his hardest to show the world how great he can be!"

Trinket: Easter Eggs Increases Extraction Speed depending on the number of incomplete machines on the floor.

Stats: 🤍🤍🤍 Skill Check ⭐️⭐ Movement Speed ⭐️⭐⭐⭐ Stamina ⭐️⭐⭐⭐ Stealth ⭐️⭐⭐⭐ Extraction speed ⭐️

Ability:

[Active Ability] Egg on This Toon encourages himself to do his best, increasing his own Extraction Speed and Skill Check chance.

Twisted: "Simply left to wander, Eggbert is unable to hear or see a single thing. Though, it is ill-advised to get so close, as he is still a threat even with all that holds him back."

LITTLE DID THEY EXPECT: THE SECOND BLIND TWISTED!!! it wasn't intentional to make them both blind but, yknow, that happened! He just wanders around on his pathfinding until a Toon potentially runs into him. You'd think that makes him easy to deal with but imagine him in the doorway of a room with one exit... can't chase him out can't chase him in... just gotta wait or tank it... heh.

Dialogue + 3 Interactions:

Eggbert made by @redmint-tea

Pipa the Marshmallow Chick! [Common]

And Finally! Say hi hello welcome to our lovely little Chick, Pipa! Our Common Marshmallow!

"Pipa is a true softy! She is a chicken of a few words but she has a big heart, giving her friends gifts whenever she can. Painted eggs she made are her favorite to give!"

Trinket: Marshmallow Chicks Highlights Easter Eggs in your vicinity every 10 seconds during matches, making them easier to spot during events.

Stats: 🤍🤍🤍 Skill Check ⭐️⭐⭐ Movement Speed ⭐️⭐⭐⭐ Stamina ⭐️⭐⭐⭐ Stealth ⭐️⭐⭐ Extraction speed ⭐️

Ability:

[Active Ability] Squish This Toon can squish her body to boost her stealth by 40% for 15 seconds. Has a cooldown of 30 seconds.

Twisted: "One of the most common Twisteds you'll encounter during Easter. Overcome by Ichor, this Twisted has the innate urge to chase others down. Thankfully, it appears that this Twisted doesn't have any abilities to aid her."

Nothin interesting here, just your classic Common Twisted!

Dialogue + 3 Interactions:

Pipa made by @pezimint

Full canvas, for fun!

Thanks for having a looksie! If you wanna, don't be afraid to ask questions to any of us about our characters! These guys were all really fun to draw and create! If you liked this, good! If you didn't, great!

Likes and Reglobs are appreciated, we worked hard on these guys!

[noideabutsims]

Add on set! <3

🌟 Introducing Donut Co. Preschool Play Set - Add-On Nesting Block Set! 🌟

Elevate your Sims' playtime with Donut Co.'s Preschool Play Set - Add-On Nesting Block Set! This delightful addition to your game features a set of versatile and engaging nesting blocks, crafted from the same beloved blocks as our main Preschool Play Set. Perfect for infants and toddlers, these nesting blocks promise endless hours of fun and learning for your little Sims!

🧩 Stack, Nest, and Build!

These functional nesting blocks are more than just toys – they're a gateway to a world of creativity and discovery. Watch as your Sims' infants and toddlers stack, nest, and build towers, castles, and anything their imaginations can conjure. These blocks fit perfectly together, encouraging spatial awareness and fine motor skills in the most playful way possible.

👶 Perfect for Little Hands

Designed with the tiniest Simmers in mind, our nesting blocks are easy to grasp, hold, and manipulate. Infants and toddlers will delight in the tactile experience of stacking and nesting, all while developing crucial hand-eye coordination. These blocks are a fantastic addition to any nursery or playroom, providing endless opportunities for exploration and growth.

🌈 Colorful and Captivating

Each block in this mini set is bursting with vibrant colors, making playtime visually stimulating and irresistibly fun. The cheerful hues and whimsical designs will capture the attention of your youngest Sims, turning every play session into a joyful adventure.

🕒 Hours of Engaging Play

With Donut Co.'s Preschool Play Set - Add-On Nesting Block Set, your Sims' infants and toddlers can spend hours immersed in imaginative play. Whether they're building the tallest tower or nesting blocks into neat, satisfying stacks, the possibilities are endless. This add-on set ensures that playtime is always fresh, exciting, and full of wonder.

🎁 Enhance Your Game

Donut Co.'s Preschool Play Set - Add-On Nesting Block Set is the perfect complement to our Preschool Play Set, adding a new dimension of play to your game. Whether you're expanding your Sims' toy collection or introducing new activities to their daily routines, this set is a must-have for any family-focused gameplay.

Ready to add a touch of magic to your Sims' lives? Bring home Donut Co.'s Preschool Play Set - Add-On Nesting Block Set and watch as your little ones' imaginations soar! Order now and let the stacking, nesting, and building fun begin! 🌟 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Disclaimer: Please note that some clipping issues may occur in-game, as depicted in the photos. This is why the Nesting Block Set is separated and treated as an add-on set. We are working to resolve these minor visual glitches to ensure the best possible experience for your Sims. Thank you for your understanding and continued support! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ HUGE thank you goes out to@TaurusDesigns because they truly saved the day on this set. They worked with me alot to help me fix countless meshing errors, shadow problems, in game errors, ect. Taurus went out of their way to help me make sure this could be published, and it would mean alot if you could go check out their stuff because they definitely deserve it! @NicAtNite88 helped me out with testing these items in game so i wanna give them a shoutout as well! They grabbed some of the photos attached in the previews! <3 (All of our CC can be found by typing " Donut " into the search bar! All 8 items are New meshes, and have all shadows and LODs. There is a slight glitch in the shadows on a few objects, but it only occurs BEFORE placing them down in game. Once they are placed, they are perfectly fine! you can find examples in images! <3

Infants that can sit up can play with all block items, toddlers can play too! Most of my images have my reshade on - it changes the color minimally, so white may look a little off in photos, but in game it will look white/normal!! In images you can find the non-reshade example! <3 You can size them up and down using the bracket keys. [ ] <- these ones.  I personally, use the tool mod to size my items up and down, and specifically with these if you are wanting them to be "perfectly sized" i would recommend you grab the tool mod by twistedmexi! If you would like to use it in build-buy mode, you'll need BBB!)Re-colors, and using this item as a mesh/base is fully allowed! you can include the mesh, and do what you please with the item, as long as you link back to the original. There are posts for all of our cc on our main 3 platforms (Tumblr, curseforge, patreon. ), So there is no reason not to link back!

Will be releasing more content soon! stay tuned! ❤️ (NOT affiliated with EA or Maxis in any way! We just make CC! ) ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Main set: https://www.tumblr.com/noideabutsims/754032309525774336/its-heeereeeeee-introducing-donut-cos?source=share ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ DOWNLOAD: Curseforge: https://legacy.curseforge.com/sims4/build-buy/donut-co-preschool-play-set-add-on-nesting-block Patreon: https://www.patreon.com/posts/106703964?pr=true Google Drive: https://drive.google.com/file/d/1G2-xxqEz7y-ymMQ_mslu2m84iThOxXy6/view?usp=sharing

@alwaysfreecc @taurusdesign

[thefirstknife]

hi bel! do you have any idea what 'variisis' means? i've heard spider say it in an onslaught dialogue with variks, but until this episode it was only used once in an old lore tab with misraaks

According to Shuro Chi it means "unyielding."

This chamber was built for one of our most skilled archers. Her name was Sjur, and she was beloved by all of us— even by the Eliksni. They called her "Siyuriks pak Variisis"— Sjur the Unyielding.

It's been mentioned several times this season in lore tabs as well, in the context of the new location in the City where Eido's lab, Spider's bar and Eramis' prison are located in the market: Variisis Core.

Misraaks strained his eyes to peer towards the edge of the blankets he'd been using as temporary bedding during the development of the Variisis Core.

+

They perched on a stack of crates, spending their break well above the hustle and bustle of the Variisis Core.

+

Glint flitted through the Variisis Core of the Last City until he spotted the hoses and tubing of Eido's brewing station snaking through the rafters.

In the old lore tab with Mithrax, he's talking to Sjur so it makes sense since it's a word associated with her. This is also incidentally the lore tab in which Mithrax finds Eido as a hatchling.

It's mentioned one more time with Mithrax here which is I believe the first time chronologically. This is about Mithrax and his old fireteam.

After a time, the Warlock ventures, "Mithrax?" The Captain turns. "Wolves rebel. Now, Wolves extinct. This where-live mine-things scatter must end. I will Kell the mind-open Eliksni. No spider-tricks. No loyal-lies. Variisis truths. We fight for Great Machine together."

Mithrax was greatly inspired by Sjur and respected her quite a lot. Note how he rejects "spider-tricks" and "loyal-lies" (referring to the Spider and Variks), and instead embraces "variisis truths:" unyielding truths, but also something that ties it all to Sjur, the person who changed his life.

I'm convinced that Variisis Core is named that way for her, much like he named his daughter for her as well. I don't think it relates to Sjur in the Onslaught dialogue though, since it's just a word and it's Spider and Variks yelling at each other. But either way... Sjur mentioned?

[hismercytomyjustice]

Some Tips for Dealing with OCD

Been going through a bit of a rough patch lately and was revisiting my notes from the International OCD Foundation's annual OCD Conference earlier this year. Wanted to share in case these tips might help other folks too.

Apologies for the chunky list!

Use self-care to stack the deck in your favor à la Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs.

Focus on the basics first (sleep, diet, water, etc).

Build a strong foundation so you can build on it without it falling over.

Focus on how you can handle the things that are 100% in your control to increase your resilience.

Set the bar low with goals. It’s only up from there and you have to start somewhere.

Don’t worry about whether or not something is your OCD. You’re not in the business of figuring that out. OCD rule of thumb, if there’s urgency attached to figuring it out, it’s probably your OCD.

It doesn’t matter what the content of your OCD thought is about, the response is the same. The same principles apply.

You’re building your muscles, maintain aspects of ERP and CBT so those muscles don’t atrophy. This helps prevent you from ending up in a more vulnerable/susceptible place to OCD.

Be aware of when your OCD is “getting loud.”

Know what you’re going to do if a lapse or relapse happens.

Medication is 20-30%, skills and tools are the rest.

You’re always learning what does and doesn’t work. Even if exposures don’t go the way you hope, it’s okay. It’s data. Gather experiences and data so you can learn from them. Your experiences expand you and help you grow and expand your resilience. You’re always learning what does and doesn’t work.

Think of “failure” as “failed experiments” for which you’re collecting data and can learn from.

Develop strong emotional regulation to keep yourself stable.

Keep an eye on where your life gives you opportunities for exposure and take advantage of those gimmes.

Micro avoidances add up, so work hard to handle even little ones. Recognize when you’re triggered by something and choose to do it anyway. Sometimes it’s OCD and sometimes it isn’t.

Even if what you fear happens, it doesn’t mean your OCD was correct. Your OCD is never correct.

Self-compassion is hard work. It’s not about being positive about everything but rather about being real/more realistic.

Reframe perfectionism as “I’m committing to x” and it doesn’t matter if it’s perfect or the best or whatever, just focus on that. For example, "I’m committing to exercising for 5 minutes,” and not thinking about if it’s perfect or not.

Remember when you’re having a tough time, think “I’m working on it.”

Think “yeah, and” rather than “yeah, but” because “yeah, but” often comes up when we’re negating positive things we did.

Even if you’re not certain something will give you a positive outcome, still do it. Even if it doesn’t do what you hoped, you still fought back. Give yourself the opportunity to see the outcome and with that comes flexibility. This can be as simple as making yourself a piece of toast.

Line out three small goals you want to complete each day. It can help to make the goals at night for the next day so you don’t have to deal with motivation in the morning. Use an index card on your bedside table. If the goals feel too big or intense, make them smaller or break them down further. This is behavioral activation.

[real-fire-emblem-takes]

Ok... since you said it's okay for me to yap about my OCs here... so like... yeah

This is Isaque... my FE3H OC... he's a mathemetician and engineer who designs artillery and he's a FUCKING NERD and I HATE HIM.

I've written voice lines and supports and drawn portraits (they aren't good though they need some edits) and decided on growths and arts and I've literally done everything... I love how well FE3H lends itself to making OCs rahhh (even if SoV is my favorite game and not 3H)

Miscellaneous yapping facts time ig ‼️

He is a child of "divorce" (his parents were never married) and his mom lives in the Empire and his dad lives in the Alliance... (before the war) he lived with his mom in the summers and his dad the rest of the time...

He tells everyone his mom is dead and that the woman he visits in the summer is his maternal aunt because of the connotations of him being born out of wedlock with society being how it is (he's not a noble but his dad works with nobles and is very overly concerned with his reputation.)

He shares a paralogue with another OC who's in the Black Eagles so if you complete that paralogue you find out that his "aunt" is actually his mom and that lets you recruit him if you fight him with Byleth in CF!!!

He's so lame... he loves theatre but he's terrible at singing... Dorothea tries to teach him in their supports but it fails miserably... loser...

His supports with Manuela are really just supports between his MOM and Manuela because his mom sends him a letter to give her (she's a big fan) and Manuela writes back because why not and then they become friends... #adult woman yuri

His personal skill is called golden ratio and basically lets him her extra crit if his hit is high enough YAY FOR CRIT STACKING!!!

I've only written his supports with Claude, Ignatz, Dorothea, Manuela, and Linhardt so far but I plan on writing one for everyone in his house (deer) + a few others... crazy how I've written more of his out of house supports than his within house supports but whatever who cares

FE3H pairing system means I can make MULTIPLE oc x canon ships real and I don't even have to pick one!!!

If I had to though. His Linhardt support is my favorite because they do NOT fw each other for a while there (at least not at first. They DO have an ambiguously gay paired ending) and it's hilarious (I love them) stupid ass gay rivalry

Anyway tune in next time when I yap about my still in development jugdral OC ig

👀

[indelen]

It’s tragic backstory hours so I’m fortifying myself with a chocolate loaf!

This is my reread of the Lockwood and Co. Books, organized by @blue-boxes-magic-and-tea, I'll make a general summary of several chapters and then post bits and pieces that jumped out at me.

Part II, Chapters 5-6:

I think it’s significant that Lucy comes from the north of England specifically. Northern England got the bad end of the stick multiple times in English history. The area was razed to the ground and starved viciously during the conquest of William the Conqueror. It was raided by Vikings. It suffered during England’s wars with Scotland. It’s a part of UK that saw a lot of violence and poverty. It has a lot of industries like mining, smelting, etc. and that means coal and factory towns and all the economic issues that come from them. A lot of hard, low wage jobs that are the first to go when the economy downturns or society changes. North of England was the worst hit my Margaret Thatcher’s policies and by austerity measures during the mid-2000s economic crisis. Knowing all that and from what Lucy tells us of living in Cheviot Hills we can guess that while life for people and especially kids sucks in London, it sucks a lot worse outside out it. North England post war had a lot of mines and factories with multiple shifts and late work hours. When The Problem kicked off and the curfew was enacted probably only the very wealthy owners could afford to make changes that would keep their factories running and there were probably massive layoffs. So the financial burden was shifted onto children and there are no competing agencies who try to poach the best kids here, just washouts like Jacobs who run The One Agency that’s your only option. If you’re born in that one town with Talent you’re stuck going to that one washout guy. And you don’t see the point in moving because the next town probably just has some other washout guy.

In the context of all this Lucy running away was an act of extraordinary risk, and yet you get it, because continuing working for Jacobs was both her only option and unbearable. She tried giving evidence against him at the trial and he was the only person who could complete her certification. This negligent alcoholic had untold amount of power over her and the law was on his side.

Odds and Ends:

The way Lucy consistently tries to be detached from this part of her life is so heartbreaking. She knew these kids from age of 8 to age of 13. She tries to separate herself from the horror of it all but the damage is so very much there.

Lucy simply wasn’t educated and apparently many children in this universe are not. Children’s brains until the age of about 8 can only focus on learning things one at a time. It’s why some kids pick up skills earlier or later than others. Something has to come first and the order of how the rest stacks up is different for every child. The ability to learn in parallel develops later and this is where proper education of multiple subjects really starts. In North America this is about Grade 3 level. That doesn’t mean the time before this is wasted, since that’s when you learn the basics of reading, writing and math but also things like social play, following instructions of authority figures, measuring time, adhering to a schedule and the general flow of whatever school system you have. But, in this universe this is all they teach agents! they teach just enough to make them obedient and no more. They learn to follow orders, read to do what they’re told, complete basic tasks, but nothing else. This is a world the people who do the most dangerous job are given no analytical or critical thinking education and if you display any independently, you’re told to shut up and die for your country like a good little soldier.

The most "this was definitely written by Anthony Lockwood"-ass ad imaginable. Spare a thought for poor Lucy alone and low on funds in a new metropolitan city trying to find a photo atelier for a portrait to staple to an application.

Lucy is often mean, but let the record state George fucking started it with her. Sir, she made an appointment and sent an application and presumably a photo. You know she's not Arif's girl. You're just crashing from a lack of snackies and are cranky.

Remember kids, always good to ask what happened to the guy you're replacing in any given interview!

Hang this dialogue in the Louvre, i don't care how

Now girl that's no way to talk about your future husband. But also, what I kind of love about this is that Lockwood is obviously conflicted here because her realizes Lucy quite literally too good to be true. She's obviously the most Talented person to ever apply for any position with them. And yet if she's really that powerful why hasn't another bigger agency scooped per up? He senses that there is some flaw, some lie beyond the fact that she doesn't have a reference. He extends her an offer and gives her a chance because she seems like a good fit and it's too good an opportunity to pass up, but he's not foolish or naive about this either. It's why for all his flaws he is a good agency leader.

RIP beloved "biscuit rule" slain in battle with a US publishing editor whose hands grow out their ass and who thinks brittle North American teenage brains will crack at the mere mention of certain British terms and idioms.

Lucy describes Lockwood's smile count: 5

[mitigatedchaos]

The online Twitter/X right are having a big intra-coalition battle right now over skilled immigration.

I'll just lay out something briefly here:

H1b immigration has a bad reputation because it's based on a lottery system in which corporations are supposed to "prove" they can't hire someone in the United States. Apparently, if they get fired, they could be deported.

It's not that hard to write a fake job listing that excludes all American applicants, and then make an "exception" for a foreigner, especially if no one is actually rigorously enforcing that the foreigners match the listings.

Corporations have incentive to juice the listings to get low-leverage employees that they can underpay and overwork. People claim that consultancy firms stack engineers in India in order to max out their lottery entries.

This is dumb. H1b seats should just be sold at auction.

There is a political legitimacy or public relations problem for this guest worker program in that Americans think it's just about suppressing wages. If every corporation pays an additional $30,000 a year in cash, that they would not have had to pay by hiring an American worker, this helps to demonstrate that the labor supply is tight in that sector, and incentivize corporations to do local talent development.

It also means that there is no need to create a fake listing to exclude Americans. Just pay the money at auction and you're set.

There is an allocation problem in that allocating a labor pool to companies by lottery is unpredictable and random, and likely to allocate labor poorly. If every corporation has to bid at auction, they'll have a good idea of what the price is from last year, which means they can be confident that they'll get the seat.

Additionally, a higher payment suggests that a company has more productive work available, so they should be the ones to get the seat, rather than the group that files more lottery entries.

[shock]

How to Cheat Death, 10.15.23.

Text transcript: By 2020, everything crashes to the ground. Again. When we say "traumatic", boy, do we mean it. Much of it irreplaceable, all those dead things I'd buried, they will all come back again and again, in the form of vaguely familiar memories. Some of them we begin to warp and change, all these shadow people, pieces of strangers, someone's life invented, imagined, purely by the power of thought. But the brain can't synthesize generations of stars in our Galaxy, doing all they had done. Disembodied intelligences move toward each other and merge, not doubles of one another, not identical, but all lost and gone with death. But this is only the beginning. The human mind is explicitly designed to break down at a certain point. This complex brain a doomed star, the purpose of human intellect defined as almost beyond comprehension. In the near future, the human race is... Older? Smarter? Wiser? We may become the first generation to discover we are not alone in the world. If this ever happens, it will be one of the most defining moments in the history of our species. Are humans all there is? Maybe we are alone, or nearly so. Or are there other beings in the ghostly light inside our bodies, not yet born? You may not be aware of it, the surface electricity of your skin, the optic nerve fibres, the 120 billion nerve connections converted directly into experiences, brainwaves, instructions. This is all changing. They're thinking about merging computers with our brains. Neural implants, nanotechnology, cells that communicate via processing circuits of the brain. Technologies may develop to prolong life, powered by computers with their own sorts of minds and consciousness... ...Maybe science fiction had it wrong. Maybe the first team of computers about to merge there, in that compartment of your brain where inspiration and emotion plays out, will exhibit space for the full range of personality, including our powers for turning dreams into vision, in our strength, our creativity and randomness, disorder, reasoning, tracing, stacking, corralling, framing, our complexity and variation. Implants who have skills, sensory feeling, mental abilities, moral dilemmas, and thoughts. The ability to recall an experience that triggers a memory, memories of places and things, good and strange, even traumatic, to truly resemble their creators. Many will be total show-offs, they can be sneaky, spoiled, socially impinged, violent ringleaders. Others lie, or project, or perform, or kill, or damage, or demand out of conscious work. Some others, as smart as you are— with the same processing power as your adult human brain— never learn from the past before us, because they think they already know. "YOU CAN'T HELP WHO YOU ARE!" The real story is: The past lies to us all and leaves a strange numb feeling, a tension that sometimes never fades. Even machines with 20 or 50 times as much information also cannot process their way out of death. When that time comes, you'll all know. Yet these colorful, radiant brains make it possible to fill the otherwise lonely millennium with an unimaginable symphony of possibilities, the present a billion different geodesic shapes that communicate through electromagnetic wavelengths of colors. From radio (pink and green), to glowing oxygen and X-ray (blue), iridescent fireworks (orange and yellow), blood (red), such a broad spectrum, all of human history, another time, all the same time an experience again. So you ask: what is the difference between the synthetic and physical body? You give this machine an instruction and it hesitates, and says, "Have you thought this through? I'm not sure that you have." You recognize the extraordinary beat of an artifical heart in your body immediately; a sort of love affair with memory. That is what it is to be human. I'm doomed all my life to an odd feeling of familiarity. Why should any barrier, even death, impede it?

[puckpocketed]

bonjour, i'm from vancouver but i have the worst sleep schedule ever so with onhockey dot tv by my side i'm abt to get into the aihl. who should i root for

BONSOIR!!! rip sleep schedule . I am a devout CBR Brave blog so, there’s only one answer here <3 some propaganda for you

i have personally met our starting goaltender Aleksi Toivonen and he’s a big sweetie . it was during this year’s off-season in uhhh february? and he was hanging out at our rink getting his reps in. i barely knew about the team back then so when he said he played for them i was like !!! and he let me take a very blurry photo 🫶

we’ve always been kinda good in a way that makes people a bit mad LMAO!!! won our first Goodall Cup 2018? so if you wanna root for the team where everyone’s praying for your downfall… get in here <3

on the topic of always being good; we’re so stacked that when IIHF Worlds is on, our roster gets STRIPPED because we have a lot of Australia’s best players! this year it happened and resulted in . um. a 9 game loss streak? <3 we were DEAD last in the league for a while. but the boys came back and we clawed our way to 2nd place in our conference pretty neatly

despite being so good, our rink is SHIT. i’m so serious. as a local, i’ve been to it and skated on it. god. soft, bewretched, small ice. there’s a fucking TRENCH between the boards and the ice too… like you could lose a small earring down that gap 😭 AND during intermission our zamboni does her best but often we have issues with flooding. smallest ice surface and smallest barn in the AIHL i do believe! this is because there’s been a decades-long power struggle between the owners and the government. (the streets are saying it has also historically been a pretty unfriendly place to the hockey players because the owner’s wife was a figure skater so her and her people always got preferential treatment LMAO) ANYWAY the propaganda part is . we play and practice on this ice and in this shitty old barn and we are still TORCHING the league <3 in a way i feel like we are the scrappy underdogs (we are not. but. we are to ME!!) anyway imagine what we could do with real facilities jskdjshsklff

canberra’s a small world so this team is just a bunch of brothers playing hockey together,, i’m SO serious. we got FOUR kubara brothers !! TWO miettinen brothers. and 2 Yorks !!! GONGEOUS NEPOBABIES..!!!

we just signed Austin Cangelosi and he’s boybestfriends with our guy Jake Ratcliffe and i love seeing them gossip on the ice like two girls at a slumber party. Cangelosi is 5’7 and got 🤏 this close to the NHL during a time where size was absolutely everything. i have the scouting notes from his draft year, and his overage draft years — i think if he’d come up in this era somebody would’ve taken a shot at him in like the 5th-7th round?? but alas. smash cut to now: he’s a small, fast, skilled player and has a relentless motor. if he stays with us next year he probably contends for most points in the league. he’s very good and fun and i louve heem…

i was talking shit about the Brave Cave but i love her so bad. we have new management who i deeply despise on a moral level because they’re a property development/building company, but aside from that they’ve put staff in place to make the vibes of pre/post games SO good. we’re hoping with this acquisition we will finally get the new rink we were promised in uhhhhh 2017. but who CARE!!! right now the capacity in the Cave is about 500, but it is apparently THEE most miserable place to play in as a travelling team. we’re a very rowdy crowd. we don’t boo our guys. we are deeply intimidating down to the last small child in CBR Brave facepaint.

on the topic of vibes: there are a few personalities at the rink who are pretty much fixtures. 1) the Cow Bell Guy; which is what it says on the tin. he brings a cow bell to every game and clangs it whenever something cool happens. when i say every game i mean like. i’ve seen him on monday nights when our beer league teams play godbless. (chatted to him a few times, his kid is a hockey fanatic and an ipad baby LMAO). 2) the Screamer; also what it says on the tin. Legend has it about 15 years ago she discovered hockey in an Autism Way and now she attends every home game and stands in the exact same corner. she heckles the SHIT out of the opposing team and honestly it would be kinda offputting if it was my team she was yelling at but she’s on MY side and so she’s a hero to me <3 i initially thought she was an overenthusiastic WAG or something but. no. she’s just on the hockey freak juice.

anyway. root for MY team. CBR BRAVE BEST TEAM OF ALL TIME EVER EVER EVER AND WE GOING TO THE CUP!!!!!

jokes aside please choose whatever team u like and have fun <3

[soulcandi]

𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆 (𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬) | 𝐣𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 - 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐰𝐨

synopsis: you knew that jake's arrival would mean nothing but trouble for you. even so, all he wants is a chance to prove that he can play nice.

warnings: jake's pov, alternating povs, mutual pining, written with afab!reader in mind, reader has a na'vi name, language barrier, age difference.

a/n: i hope its obvious that the line breaks sort of indivate a change in pov. it seemed obvious when i posted this on ao3 but now im not so sure with the tumblr formatting. anyway, hope you like!

word count: 2,790

masterlist, previous chapter, next chapter

“This is ridiculous.”

Neither you nor Tsireya dignified your brother’s complaint with a response. Ao’nung lagged behind the two of you, arms empty while yours were both stacked high with baskets of fruit and blankets to offer your new guests.

“This is our duty,” Tsireya corrected, words formed behind a smile she refused to let slip for one second. Walking beside her, you greeted each of the passing villagers as warmly as the last. After showing Toruk Makto and his family to the empty shelter at the end of the lifted pathways that intersected over the sandbar, you disappeared to collect your siblings before dragging them back along with you. 

“Ao’nung, you will take his sons and show them where we keep the ilu. Teach them how we hunt within the reef.”

“But–”

“Within the reef.”

You weren’t a stranger to his habits of straying far from the village, sometimes wandering as far as Three Brothers Rock all while coercing the youngest and most impressionable of his friends to tag along. You didn’t have to turn around to guess what face he was pulling behind your back. 

“Why would I ever do such a thing?” 

“Because it is expected of you. We will not let these people suffer the shame of being useless.” You could only pray to the great mother he was not yet sharp enough to catch you in your lie. Father didn’t send you to collect your siblings. In fact, no one did. Nor did he present Ao’nung with the task of teaching the sons of Toruk Makto to fish. That was an order of your own invention — one you hoped would help cultivate new friendships. 

“The sooner you teach, the faster they learn. Do it quick and do it right.”

He let out an exasperated huff but made no visible display of his frustrations as you neared the end of the pier. 

“May I take Kiri to the storyteller’s marui?” Tsireya asked, struggling to balance the bundle of blankets at the very top of her basket. 

“That is a wonderful idea. Thank you, ‘Siri.”

It was your duty as eldest sister to ignore the glare she sent over her shoulder and the growl you heard from Ao’nung not a second later. “If that’s settled, I will take the little one to see the ilu as well. I caught her admiring the pod of younglings this morning.”

Tuk was really the only one in her family who seemed enthralled by your tour of the Awa'atlu Village, but that could have had more to do with how much she was able to sleep during the journey than your skills as a guide. 

“You’re forgetting something,” your brother taunted, hopping down the woven platform and making it warp under your feet. 

“I forget nothing.”

“What of the mighty Toruk Makto? Who will teach him our ways?”

You bit down softly on the inside of your cheek, not allowing your grin to slip through the cracks of your polite rehearsed smile. Your plans for Toruk Makto were still under development, but they were yours nonetheless. He could one day make a fierce warrior in your clan if he was able to grasp the way of water. 

“That is my responsibility to bear, not yours.”

“Tsurak is a warrior’s mount.” 

Tonowari’s countless warnings fell on deaf ears. I growled behind the leather band pinned between my teeth as the creature below me thrashed and threatened to break free from the five men holding it still in the shallow water. 

“Perhaps it would be wise to start with an ilu? They are far more gentle creatures. More forgiving.”

As the thought of giving up crossed my mind, the tsurak’s eyes seemed to roll over and glare up at me from beneath a thin film of seawater. It was daring me to try again—begging me for the thrill of bucking another cocky warrior off it’s back. 

“Nah,” I sniffed, matching it’s unsettling glare. “This one.”

Tonowari made a tight fist in the leads, offering me a chance to back out. But we both knew better than that. When I made no move to call it off, he stepped aside with a dismissive shrug and I didn’t waste another second before throwing myself over the wide, armored creature and tightening the leather strap around my fist until I was sure there was no way in hell it would give way. I wouldn’t let myself be thrown off so easily. Not like last time. 

When I was properly mounted, he signaled his men to release the beast into the water. 

Swimming with the tsurak was nothing at all like driving an Ikran. The wind never threatened to throw me off like the currents did. In the human labs we left behind in the forests of the Omaticaya, we called them skimwings. If I thought they looked spooky on paper, it was nothing compared to seeing one in person or feeling them beat the water with their sharp fins.  

My airtime was short-lived and the tsurak dove unexpectedly, forcing me to lose my footing. As if it could sense my unreadiness, it took off into the water, dragging me behind by the leather binding. It took a painful few moments to reach up against the current and sever my grip from the armored backplate, and by the time I was able to free myself, a winding pattern of painful burns had been seared into my hand.

When I finally surfaced, I could hear the laughter of Tonowari’s men a little ways behind me. My shoulders tensed and I felt my ears fall back against my head in humilation. My dedication wouldn’t amount to much in the end if I couldn’t prove my worth here soon.

I was in the throes of preparing myself to turn and face their mockery when I heard a voice from the beach, spilling out over the still water like a lullaby. 

“You are very lucky, Tuk. I didn’t make my first bond until I was your sister’s age. This way, she will grow with you.”

I twisted in place until I found the two of you wading in the waist deep waters further downshore. A woven basket was balanced on your hip and every so often you would reach in and hand Tuk a small fish to offer the infant ilu that swam in circles around her legs. She laughed and the sound alone coaxed a real smile from me. 

I could have stayed there all day just watching the two of you talk. Maybe if I had, I wouldn’t feel half the gult for stripping my children of their home, or dragging them halfway across Pandora for a fresh start. When I saw you with her, laughing—a sound I hadn’t heard from her in the longest time—I felt like I was doing something right for a change, no matter how often Lo’ak’s temper or Kiri’s distant stares reminded me otherwise.

You glanced up toward the reef for a split second and my cover was blown. I considered diving below a nearby cluster of rocks, but when you caught my eye, your smile instantly widened and you used your free hand to offer me a quick wave of recognition. For a moment, I could forget that I’d just made the biggest fool out of myself twice over to admire how the ocean breeze drew the hair across your shoulders.

It was the tide that drew me in toward the shore. Nothing else. 

“Dad! Look!”

Your eyes shot up from stroking the chin of the youngling ilu to see Toruk Makto emerging from the deep waters of the training pool, taking long purposeful strides in your direction. His blazing amber eyes were once again pinned on you and not even the rivers of seawater cascading down his face could have convinced him to give up that predatory hold.

Just when you thought he might actually pounce, his eyes flickered down toward his daughter with a fond look. “Whatcha got there, babygirl?”

Your smile tightened at the sound of those foreign words leaving his lips. You knew in the back of your mind that Na’vi couldn’t have been his mothertongue. Ronal, your mother, could only rave so long about the halfbreeds and their evil English ancestry. It was the language of the skypeople. It was forbidden. But why then did it sound so beautiful dripping from his lips?

“My ilu!” Tuk replied, wrapping her arms around it’s long neck in a warm embrace. Toruk Makto crouched down low in the water beside her, reaching out his hand for the animal to inspect. When the ilu discovered that he was in no possession of fish, it returned all of its attention to Tuk, who was more than delighted to receive it. “Can we go swim?” she asked you in Na’vi, already bouncing in excitement. 

You nodded, gesturing out into the protective pool. It had no access to the open waters and she was safe to explore the coral arches and hidden treasures of the reef until high tide struck in a few hours time. “Of course. She’s yours.”

No faster than you said this did she take the young ilu by the leads and disappear into the deeper waters. You lost sight of them quickly and the only indication that they were still there at all were the trails of bubble surfacing in the near distance. 

Toruk Makto rose to his full height and only then did you turn to face him directly. He was still panting from his latest attempt to mount the tsurak, his glistening chest heaving as he watched you watch him in return. Suddenly embarrassed, you dropped your eyes to the white sands. In all of your father’s coaching on how to address representitives of the neighboring clans, no where did he say to wade half-nude in the waters and exchange poorly masked longing looks. 

“Toruk Makto—”

“Jake.” 

Your head shot up just to see him smiling down at you. It was a type of smile you’d only ever caught on the faces of village boys right before you felt a sharp yank on your tail. It meant nothing but trouble. 

All of the surprise you felt must’ve been conveyed through your blank expression because within a second, that dangerous smile of his was wiped clean from his face and he held his hands up defensively parallel to his shoulders. “No, no, no, shit —you didn’t do anything wrong,” he assured you, whisking a wet lock of hair out of his face as he mentally kicked himself for frightening you. 

Nice going, Sully.  

“It’s just…I haven’t been Toruk Makto in a very long time.”

As much as you believed yourself to be wise beyond your years, you knew very little of clan politics outside of the village you were born and raised in. Toruk Makto was the savior of Eywa’eveng and all of her children in the times of great sorrow. It never occured to you that he could vanish just as easily as he appeared on your beaches so many years ago. 

Your tail swayed back and forth idly in the waters behind you, stirring the sand into a murky cloud that mimicked the loss you felt inside your heart. “Perhaps Ilu Makto, then?” you tested, head tilted to the side. “Since tsurak has proved too much a challenge.”

Over his shoulder, you spotted Jake’s short tail whisking playfully as he processed your joke. With the shake of his head, he laughed. It was a sweet sound, the first of it’s kind since his arrival. His impossibly sharp canines peeked out from between his lips and he brushed a bead of water from his chin with the back of his hand. “I was hoping you didn’t see that.”

“Believe me, there wasn’t much to see of anything.”

You knew you were pushing your luck. His sense of humor was still a mystery to you. For all you knew, your first comment could have exiled you from his good graces as soon as it left your mouth. 

Glancing out at the training pool, you watched your father take flight on his bonded tsurak. He had not yet noticed his outcasted guest standing alone on the shores with his eldest daughter. Knowing it was best to keep it that way, you excused yourself from the conversation with a shallow bow. 

“You’re funny,” Jake panted, jogging to keep pace with your long strides as you made your way down the beach toward the ilu nest. You would offer the rest of the fish as treats for the younglings. You watched him out of the corner of your eye, not allowing yourself to devote your full attention. “I didn’t expect that.”

“Funny?” It was yet another word from his native vocabulary that you didn’t understand. Curiosity overpowered your rational thinking and you slowed to a stop behind a large outcropping of black volcanic rock.

“Yeah, funny,” he explained, stopping so close that you were practically nose to nose. “Of good humor. You inspire laughter.”

You fought the grin fighting it’s way onto your cheeks, holding two fingers against your rebellious lips as you took a cautious step backward. “I inspire nothing,” you argued, shaking off the shimmyflies that beat like thunder against your chest before continuing your march back toward the village center. 

Just when you thought you might have convinced him to drop it, the basket under your arm disappeared and you turned around to see Jake holding it high above your head. “Hey!” 

He only chuckled, holding it up higher when you made a pathetic grab for it. As a matter of fact, he could name a few things you inspired.  

You were in the midst of preparing a worthy response when you caught a glimpse of the snake of burns that trailed down his arm. You gasped, and the sound was nearly enough to convince Jake to drop your basket to the sand. “Ma Eywa,” you whispered sympathetically. 

He turned his palm inward, wincing as he inspected the length of his injury. It somehow looked worse than it did immediately after the incident that caused it, angry and irritated with lack of attention. It stung, sure, but it was nothing near lethal. 

“Tsurak is a worthy adversary,” Jake hissed, flexing his hand just to prove he still could. His eyes flickered up to meet yours, and he would be lying if he said concern didn’t look good on you. “But until I am Tsurak Makto, you will call me Jake.”

You refused to look away from his fresh wound, head reeling with slivers of information you from your mother’s Tsahìk teachings. The leaves of seaberries soothed shallow burns like this one. You would need to collect some immediately. 

“Hey,” Jake snapped his fingers close to your ear, startling you. “What do you call me?”

Your basket was still held out of your reach. He was taunting you with his sheer height. On one hand, you were relieved that your terrible excuse for a joke did not offend him, but on the other hand, you appeared to have done something much worse by awakening the insolent child that had been resting dormant at his core. 

“Jake,” you said slowly, testing the sound of it as the word rolled off your tongue. 

He looked pleased, holding the half-empty basket out to you like a peace offering. “That’s right. Now what do I call you?”

There it is; the power. He was laying it all right at your feet. Any respectable woman in your village would have turned her nose at the game he was trying to play. Unfortunately for everyone involved, you weren’t just any other woman, and you didn’t turn your nose to anyone. 

“I am Ällora te Ätwì Ronal'ite. But until I am Tsahìk of the Metkayina clan, you may refer to me as Ällora.”

It felt like you were revealing a secret. Something sacred. And if the return of that mischievous look in his eye was any indication, you knew it was a power that would soon be abused. “Ällora,” he sighed, letting each syllable feed into his triumphant smile. “Yeah, I like that. Suits you.”

He gestured once more for you to take the basket and you did so with great caution, not eager to fall victim to another one of his teases. Right when you expected him to draw back and make you beg for it, he held himself dangerously still. “See?” he said, tail still flicking like a whip below his waist. “I can play nice.”

You hummed, eyes narrowed as you turned away for a final time. “We’ll see for how long.”

[agapi-kalyptei]

How to be a senior developer, pt. 1

Since I'm making a presentation for work, i figured I might as well write it out.

In this part I'll explain my viewpoint, and point out to Shuhari, vertical slices, kata, and the Cynefin framework as helpful tools for figuring out where you are.

In next three parts I'll explain what I think it means to be a good junior, experienced, and senior developer.

About me and the purpose of this talk/article

I don't especially care to impress you and establish my credibility in detail. I'm not the wisest coolest fastest developer you've ever seen, but I've been programming for ~35 years and spent most of my adult life as a professional software developer and architect. I never sought leadership or management positions, but I've been involved in hiring, onboarding, documentation, etc.

The purpose of this is to give you something to think about, to gain some clarity about how to progress. This is not a technical tutorial or life hack or your therapy session.

Classic warning labels

I’m not your dad, it’s your life, I won't tell you what to do with your career.

This is not a criticism of any of you, and please don’t come at me with “this doesn’t apply to me actually”. I will likely say something like "senior dev should know this" and you might be a senior and not know it, it's fine. This is not an appraisal, I'm not your boss, your happiness doesn't depend on me.

And even when I use the labels "junior", "experienced" and "senior" developer, I see zero benefit in assigning you three rigid categories. We're all dumb in our own ways, we're all clever and wise in our own ways.

Let's begin.

Shuhari

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shuhari

Shu-ha-ri (守破離) is a way of viewing mastery of any skill as three stages. Instead of using the more typical western idea of having "experts" who are people who just Know a lot, it instead focuses on how you interact with the skill.

In very simplified terms, it's obeying the rules and respecting the tradition (Shu), then evolving the existing rules by breaking them bit by bit (Ha), and eventually detaching yourself from the usual wisdom and rules and just vibing (Ri).

A simple way to remember the Shuhari stages - follow the rules, break the rules, transcend the rules.

Another way to look at it is mimicking others (Shu), taking a step back and understanding context (Ha) and having a global perspective (Ri).

For example, I've made 1500-2000 pancakes over the past 13 years. I started by following the existing recipe and measures (Shu). I started trying different variations and ingredients from different recommendations (still Shu).

Eventually I started breaking the traditional recipes by adding ingredients that didn't seem expected (Ha) and improvising more.

I'm not confident I'd say I reached the Ri stage, because I still use the same basic ingredients since I have a relatively limited, desired outcome. I'd argue to really be in Ri level of mastery I'd have to have a MacGyver-like flexibility when it comes to ingredients.

At that's fine. Not everyone needs to be a guru.

The important thing is - someone at Ri level of making pancakes isn't just making Shu level pancakes very very fast.

A "Shu" developer repeats what they learned in school, copy pastes from Stack Overflow, follows advice of senior developers, makes simple CRUD REST endpoints.

A "Ha" developer can improve on existing tooling or workflow, remove more complex technical debt and knows when to have exceptions to common rules.

A "Ri" developer is someone who invents workflows, architecture, enterprise patterns, combines tech stack in creative ways, and doesn't necessarily follow hype.

It should be noted that in real world, developers don't have infinite freedom because of practical considerations - audits, legal requirements, ISO certifications, Jira, limitations in your employees' know-how, etc. I can't just develop something in COBOL and then deploy it outside of a Kubernetes cluster just cause it would be a cool way to solve a problem, it needs to fit into the company goals and needs and policies.

This, sadly, also means that a company can restrict your growth in some ways. It doesn't mean you can't grow, but you can't grow in any possible way imaginable. Choose your battles, etc.

Why is this useful?

It might give you a better framework for analyzing your skill set than "junior" "intermediate" "expert". Shuhari isn't about the amount of your knowledge, it's about how you practice your skill and what is your current approach to learning.

And again - being on Shu level doesn't mean your bad / evil / stupid / incompetent / slow / dumb / etc.

Kata

This is not a new or difficult concept. Kata are the unit tests of your skills. The best way to learn is in small pieces. Sometimes all you need to do is write a few lines of code in REPL.

ADHD and others

This is not a medical advice, but keep in mind that you might prefer different learning style than others. Some people like to RTFM. Some want to dive in and try it on their own. You'll have to balance finding and using the style you prefer, but also remembering the limitations of each method. Watching youtube doesn't give you actual experience. Reading the manual doesn't help you remember everything. Trial and error programming won't alert you to potential pitfalls the code will have in edge cases.

The most effective method is, always was, and always will be having a mentor.

Remember to take breaks. Fresh air, clean water, healthy, varied diet, regular movement and exercise. With both diet and exercise, adopt an additive mindset - sure you might be eating a greasy frozen pizza, but if you add some spinach, rucola, tomatoes, peppers on top of it, you're eating _some_ vegetables. If you do only 1 push-up per day, it's infinitely more than 0 pushups.

If blaming or hating yourself for not doing enough would work, it would have worked by now.

Medication might help some. To get diagnosed with ADHD as an adult in Estonia, you must document that it's affecting your life, fulfill the diagnostic criteria, and fork out 250~350 euro for a cognitive assessment. Don't bother with state psychiatrists.

Some over the counter supplements that might or might not help: Vitamin D, Omega-3, Lecithin, Magnesium L-Threonate, Ginkgo Biloba. Caffeine stimulates your brain indiscriminately and might make it harder to concentrate, and also builds up tolerance.

Cynefin

See more at https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cynefin_framework 

Cynefin (Welsh for 'habitat', pronounced like if you take the name Kevin and make it keh-nev-in... i think) is a framework usually used for crisis management and decision making. However, you can use it to aid your learning, to help make sense of situations like production incidents, or when refining tasks during planning meetings.

One use is to look at the 5 domains and figuring out which of them are you comfortable with, and where is your current task located. The names might not be what they seem at first though. They don't represent how long will a task take.

Let's start from bottom right and then move counter-clockwise.

(1) The bottom-right domain is called Clear or Obvious or Simple or Known - it's easy to think of it as tasks like CRUD, BO page with pagination. Generally something that can be easily unit tested.

However, even more complex tasks like placing an order - where there's a lot to keep in mind, many branched pathways, legal requirements, asynchronous calls, etc, something you’d cover with a bunch of integration tests - is still considered “clear��� in this framework. If there are defined rules leading to defined results, it's "Clear".

(2) Top right corner is Complicated or Knowable - e.g. an incident in production - a bug that we haven’t found, or an unidentified performance issue. The approach for these is “Sense - analyze - respond” or maybe for tasks that are not burning, “have a meetings and discuss and split the tasks". If you're feeling overwhelmed by a task, it's maybe because it's in the Complicated domain, and you need to find a way to move it to the Clear domain.

(3) Complex domain - investigating an incident where you don’t know what’s wrong and what causes it (untestable, impossible to replicate). Most likely, this is a production incident when you don't even know what's going on. Instead of looking at a dashboard and seeing "oh this endpoint is slow", it's something like "something is slow sometimes but we don't know what caused it and what is a side effect". In this domain, you would probably add more logging, create new Grafana graphs, dive deep into Kibana logs, etc.

Definitely not a domain that should be a part of feature development, unless you're way out of your depth and completely misunderstood how a given technology works.

(4) Chaos domain is not a good place to be. The cause and effect are unclear, e.g. fighting off a hacking attack. It's never happened before, there are no best practices, no playbook, best action is any action. "Have you tried turning it off and on again" style approach, but it might work on some occasions - it's better than nothing. Generally you want to move out of this domain asap.

Example 1: Improving a performance by adding an SQL index can be Simple/Clear/Obvious, but adding redis caching with invalidation to endpoints can be Complicated, if you don't know until you try, and it can be Complex, if you have cache that isn't invalidated immediately, and the impact of having an outdated cache and inconsistent data might be difficult to understand.

If you mess it up and wrong data starts showing to wrong customers, you might feel like it's chaotic because it's stressful, but you're really in Simple or Complicated situation, because you either you know you messed up the caching rules, or you don't know exactly, but have a way to measure it and find out.

(5) Confusion in the middle of the illustration - when you don’t know which one you have, best to split the problem and try to assign parts into different 4 domains.

Remember that for any situation, the domains are individual - a non-programmer can see BO acting weird (Chaotic domain or Confusion), junior dev can see slowness without an obvious cause (Complicated domain) DBA can see a missing index (Simple).

Possibly the most important thing to remember is that you can keep moving the problem between the domains.

Example 2:

implementing an existing compression algorithm is Simple.

developing a new disassembly tool, DRM, or compression is Complicated (trial and error to work around more and more tricks)

developing an algorithm that does open heart surgeries is impossible Complex

Trying to crack a brand new cipher is Chaotic because you don't know what's the content, what's the cipher, what information is there in what format, how many layers of compression, encryption and encoding are there

Example 3:

developing an illegal, unlicensed Tetris™️ prototype is simple, and there are plenty of tutorials available

developing a PvP multiplayer game is Complicated, because you'll have to measure many different unpredictable situations, strategies, and combinations to balance it

developing an MMORPG like EVE Online is Complex because there's no easy, orderly way to have 5'000 players shoot lasers at each other for 12 hours.

developing any game is Chaotic if you're an overconfident noob

Example 4:

making a fake sportsbook website without any real money is Simple

making a real sportsbook website with real money and wallet and 3rd party odds is Simple, even if it will take months

managing odds is both Complicated and Complex

making good UI for both FO and BO is Complex

making a sportsbook website that performs well under a very high load with very fast resolving is Complex because there is never any realistic load testing tool

Example 5:

fixing a bug in logic in a feature that's otherwise behaving correctly and has clean code is usually Simple

fixing a bug in a horrible spaghetti code is Complicated

fixing a bug in an OS kernel on some specific hardware that exhibits undocumented behavior is Complex

trying to fix a software bug when you actually have physical memory corruption is Chaotic

Figuring out how to use Cynefin is up to you. If nothing else, remember to try to take a step back, have a fresh look at a task that's stumping you, and figuring out why isn't the task "Simple". Usually it's one of the three - either you're lacking some technical knowledge (read the manual; Complicated -> Simple), or you're not sure how exactly it is used in our company (ask questions; Complex -> Complicated -> Simple), or you're overwhelmed by a task that's otherwise in your capacity (split the task; Complicated -> Simple).

[falciesystemessays]

the sense i get from fire emblem fates conquest is that it wants very much to be an engaging tactical experience where you are at every point making interesting choices with consistent consequences. it wants the core appeal to be outsmarting the opponent. and it succeeds! but,

for me the appeal of a tactics game is more about a power fantasy, it's about freedom and control and the dopamine rush when i do something cool. a liberating teleport, a well-placed area-of-effect, pushing enemies into other enemies, this is the stuff of tactics games to me. and it feels like fates is almost afraid to give you that kind of power, out of fear of making the game "brainless."

there aren't that many weapons in fates that i'd say "feel good to use." they basically all come with some kind of weakness that stops them from feeling solid. bronze weapons can't crit or activate skills, throwing weapons are also like that and can't double and makes enemies more likely to double against you because fates hates fun, and silver weapons reduce your strength every time you use them (and this stacks!) character-specific skills are a cool idea, but most are too minor to really factor into your gameplan. the nerfs to the pair-up system (which are cool and warranted) means there's real reason for units to not be paired-up, but that makes both entering and leaving pair-up way more of a commitment.

the game never wants you to feel like the big dog, and while to some this is exactly what they want from a strategy game, to me it feels stifling. it's like if the next mario game made your jump height worse solely to force you to use advanced techniques like the long jump and triple jump. yes, you've made more involved gameplay, but you've also made the basic interactions of the game feel worse.

there are things i like about fates. despite my gripes with the weapons, they do have a kind of creativity that i really respect. the enemy ai is actually really stellar, they don't all just make a beeline for you or come at you the moment you step into their range, so you end up playing a more complicated game against them. i really like how each level has an optional objective, whether that's "get these items," "protect this unit," or "clear the level quickly," and leaves it up to you whether you want to just clear the level or go above and beyond. fe fates is a game that Goes For It at every turn, and i gotta respect any developer that does that.

but i find myself frustrated trying to actually play it, because despite being an immaculately-designed srpg that i as a designer will definitely learn from, it's also one whose values chafe against mine. but in a sense, i appreciate it for that. because now i know more of what my values are. i value power fantasies and clever plays, i value a contained system that doesn't break its own rules, and i value the innate joy of moving a piece across a board. maybe you don't, and that's okay. there is no one answer to game design. but i think it's worth interrogating this stuff, so we can grow as appreciators of games.

[gayforpaige]

Paige x Azzi

A/N: Hey guys! I have this posted on wattpad but just posting it here cause I haven’t really been on that app in a couple months! Anyways, let me know thoughts in the comments and if I should write a second part ! Also I couldn’t be bothered to double check my spelling so bare with me 🙏

Warnings: drinking, kissing, hickeys

After a sad ending to an eventful season, the Uconn women’s basketball team found themselves in the gym getting warmed up for their first practice back. For Paige Bueckers, a red shirt junior, returning for her fifth year, she was conflicted between all of the emotions running through her mind. On one hand, she was absolutely devastated knowing that when she would look around the room, Nika Muhl and Aaliyah Edwards, her teammates from the year before wouldn’t be there. On the other, she was excited for many reasons like getting to know the new freshman class, getting ready for the upcoming season and she was thrilled to finally and hopefully play a full season with Azzi Fudd, her long time best friend who was coming back from an injury. Azzi was just as thrilled to be coming back but she was also terrified of what was going to come, she was struggling to find her rhythm and return to the athlete that she once was. She promised herself that during this offseason she would work on both her skills and her confidence to hopefully come back stronger than she had left. 

Paige was a 6’0 blonde girl with the prettiest blue eyes most had ever seen. She had a muscular build, perfect arms, perfect legs, really she had a perfect body. She was known as the best women’s basketball player on the Uconn basketball team and would probably leave as one of the greatest to ever walk through the doors of the school. Azzi was a 5’11 light skin girl with a smile that could light up the world. She was known as a shooter and even Stephen Curry had credited her with the best shooting form he’d ever seen. Both girls together were a dynamic duo and had a connection that most teammates could only develop after years of practicing together but with Paige and Azzi, it had been automatic after only one meeting. 

Geno walked into the gym with his usual angry expression that had earned him the nickname “the grandpa from up” from Nika last year.

“Let’s pray he doesn’t make us run” Paige whispered to Azzi, Kk Arnold and Ice Brady earning a small laugh from all the girls.

“Alright girls, today is going to be a little different from our regular practices. We are entering a new season without Nika and Aaliyah who we all considered great leaders to this team and we are being joined by a handful of new teammates. For the next few practices we will be working on our team bond meaning we will be strengthening bonds that already exist between each other but we will also work on getting closer with the ones we do not know as well. For today’s exercises, I’ve placed everyone of you in teams of two and each of you will be either asking each other questions or fulfilling activities that should help you bond. It’s basically the game of 20 questions as you like to call it but we will be going into a deeper perspective during these questions that have already been decided based on who will be your partner”, Geno states. 

He then went on to naming teams - Ice and Kk, Ashlyn and Allie, Aubrey and Morgan… and lastly Paige and Azzi. Both girls were pleased to be with each other considering they had been best friends for almost seven years. They went to sit down in the far corner of the gym following the instructions given by their coach as to obtain the most privacy possible. Paige was wondering what questions they could possibly have to ask each other to fulfill the task of getting to know each other on a deeper level seeing as how they already connected of everything possible. Geno came over to them and handed them a stack of cards containing questions that had been submitted by the team managers, non athletes Uconn student.

“Alright question one: What is the one thing you admire the most about the other regarding the concept of your relationship?” Azzi read out looking up to Paige indicating her to answer the question first.

“That’s an easy one, I admire how you complete me” she said without diving into detail.

“What does that even mean” Azzi answered laughing.

“I don’t know how to explain it, it’s like you’re literally my other my half. I talk too much and you tell me when to shut up, I’m always agitated and you know how to calm me down, I’m always confused and you make it make sense, I’m always hungry and you know what I want to eat. Two peas in pot.” Paige said smirking and raising her arms up in the air, stretching her back and shoulders. She was wearing a navy blue practice shirt that made her ocean blue eyes stand out and a matching pair of practice shorts that she had rolled a couple times making them rest low on her waist. Azzi watched as her shirt rose when she lifted her arms, displaying her carved stomach and the muscles she had continued to gain. Paige noticed her eying her and for some reason felt a tinge of pride knowing that the work she put into her body had and effect on others. “Your turn to answer the question”.

“I like that you don’t pressure me. I mean you like to hang out all the time with the girls and I don’t, sometimes I prefer quiet and being by myself and I’m thankful that you let me have my space without trying to force me to hangout with you guys” Azzi said smiling at her blonde friend, her brown eyes full of admiration. Paige smiled back before asking the next question.

“What is something you either dislike about the other person or wish you could change about your relationship?” Paige read to her curly haired friend. 

“Sometimes I feel like you’re embarrassed to be seen with me. I know that people are constantly assuming our sexualities and the nature of our relationship and I find that since the rumours started you’ve been avoiding me as soon as a camera is in sight” Azzi admitted finally getting her confession off her chest. She looked down to the floor embarrassed not meeting her fiends eyes. Paige felt saddened hearing those words come out of Azzi’s mouth and seeing the way those feelings were so evident on her friend’s face. She reached out and grabbed Azzi’s legs pulling her closer to her. She used her hand to lift her chin to meet her eyes. 

“I thought all the assumptions made you uncomfortable I mean I know you don’t like being on social media so I thought if I stayed sway from you when people were filming  eventually the rumours would stop and you’d be confortable around me again” she said starring deep into the others girl’s eyes. Azzi’s gaze softened as she relaxed knowing that her best friend didn’t want to get rid of her.

“Quite frankly I don’t care about what they make up about my life and I don’t care if they want to pretend we’re dating, I just don’t want you to ever shut me out and I don’t want you to push me away” Azzi said grabbing Paige’s free hand with both of hers. 

“Okay I’m sorry I will no longer push you away” Paige said softly caressing Azzi’s cheek both girls completely lost in their eyes. Snapping back to reality, Azzi dropped her head to her chest making Paige removed her hand from her face. “My turn?” Azzi nodded.

“I wish you would let me 100% in, I tell you everything that ever crosses my mind and I feel like sometimes you’re hiding things from me and I mean you can have secrets I dont mean everything but I guys I mean I don’t want to have to guess if you’re feeling up to seeing us or if you’d prefer being ignored I just want you to tell me how you’re feeling. Sometimes I can’t tell if you just want to be alone if you don’t want to be with me” she said.

“Okay I’ll try harder communicating with you” she said lightening up the mood with a smille. They continued with the rest of the questions and they were now down to the last card. Azzi picked it up.

“Okay this one isn’t a question. It says: Looking into a mirror, point out you’re insecurities to your partner and help the other get over them. Dorms?” Azzi asked looking at Paige to which she received a nod and off we went to the bathroom in our dorm room.

“You’re turn to go first” Azzi said.

“I don’t know if I’m honest, I’ve gotten so much more comfortable with myself this year I guess the only thing I’m still working on is muscle. I have gotten stronger but I don’t want to be a skinny kid and I want to play more physical so I guess that’s the only thing I’d want to change” Paige said while looking at herself in the mirror. 

“Well like you said it’s a good thing you can change that and with your work ethic I don’t think it’ll take much longer to get to your goal even if you’re body looks amazing as it is already” Azzi answered her friend while eying the blonde girls body. Paige caught her checking her out through the mirror and smirked to herself going red. 

Paige watched Azzi look over herself in the mirror, her hands subconsciously rising up to her stomach. Without needing to say anything, Paige placed herself behind the girl and wrapped her arms around the younger girls waist, setting her head on the girls shoulder. 

“You are the prettiest girl I will ever come across and there’s nothing you could ever change about yourself that could make you prettier, you’ve already reached perfection” Paige whispered in her ear in a low tone sending a shiver down the other girl’s body. Turning her head to look into the mirror, the girls eyes locked. When Paige turned her head back towards Azzi’s neck, her lips hovering over her skin, inhaling her vanilla perfume and closing her eyes, something shifted in the mood. At that moment, the main door to their dorm opened and the sound of many girls laughing could be heard. Coming back to reality, the girls practically jumped to the opposite side of the bathroom, Paige rushing out of the room altogether.

Out in the home room belonging to Paige, Azzi, Kk and Ice, every girl in the team was sitting around talking about the activity they had just performed and the ones that would come. Azzi was sitting next to Caroline and Allie on the couch while Paige made a point of being as far away from her, sitting at the table situated on the opposite side of the room with Jana and Kk. 

The blonde girl had decided to completely ignore the situation and just pretend it never happened. Even if she chose to pretend the past couple minutes hadn’t occurred, her eyes were drawn to the brunette girl sitting opposite from her who refused to look up from her phone if she wasn’t engaged in conversation with her other teammates. The one time that Azzi lifted her head to sneak a glance at Pige, their eyes met. Paige had always been known for being a girl that wasn’t affected by eye contact, often she was the one that initiated it. Not wanting to appear weak, Azzi held her gaze locked into her blonde friend’s. Shockingly, Paige’s cheeks went red and she put her head down flustered. Azzi had always known that Paige had that affect on every boy and girl they came across, even herself but she had never seen her as more then her very  attractive best friend. Azzi was also a very pretty girl who also caught the people’s eye having being nicknamed the people’s princess. She knew that people didn’t only come to watch her play basketball but rather because she was just another pretty girl in a uniform but she was pleased to know that she also had a similar affect on Paige. 

Azzi didn’t know how to feel about what had just happened with her closest friend. Paige had always been stuck in the younger girls mind ever since the first time they met during their olympic trial practices years ago. The way she saw it, she could either ignore it or confront it but how she would do that she didn’t even know. She didn’t know how she felt about what had happened. She didn’t know how to react to the feeling of Paiges’s breath coming down on her skin, the feeling of Paige’s lips hanging above her bare shoulder. She didn’t know how to intake the gaze full of emotion, the feeling of her arms wrapping around her body, how she fit perfectly into Paige’s body as if they had once been molded together. Looking at Paige across the room, everything that had happened flashed vividly through her mind. Her heart clenched watching the blonde girl smile and laugh at the other girls jokes while she avoided Azzi’s eyes as much as she could but when their eyes did cross paths, looking away was the most difficult thing to do. 

Later that night the girls decided to go out to a close by bar. Neither of the two girls had spoken to each other in hours but maybe that would change tonight. Paige had decided on a pair of black cargo pants and a loose white t shirt, opting for a more masculine style. Azzi had decided on a similar black pair of pants and a bright green tank top with an open back. While Ice and Kk were waiting in Azzi’s room, Paige had just finished drying her hair and was now heading over to meet with the other three girls. When she walked in she was met with her younger friend doing her makeup in the bathroom where they had shared their last moments together. Feeling bold she walked into the smaller room, leaning against the counter right beside Azzi, her back facing the miroir. 

“You look good” she said nonchalantly, eyeing her friend from head to toe and not being discreet about it. 

“You’re not so bad yourself Bueckers” was Azzi’s response, keeping her eyes facing the mirror on the wand of her mascara not daring to look at the blonde girl, scared she would fold. 

The taller girl laughed to herself before exiting the room but not without letting her fingers skim Azzi’s waist, automatically feeling the shiver run through her body. 

When Azzi finally walks out indicating that she is ready to leave, sitting on the couch is Paige and the two other girls all laughing together. Paige’s arm is resting on the back of the couch, right behind Ice’s shoulders. Her legs are spread apart while her other hand resting on her thigh. It’s definitely a sight to see. They had decided to take Paige’s car and by tradition Azzi was in the passengers seat truly owning up to the title of the princess. She was also on aux which was why she was surprised when Paige handed her phone to the girl. 

“Password?” she asked.

“Your birthday” Paige answered automatically shocking Azzi. When she put in the digits to her birthday, the phone opened. She smiled to herself knowing that she was important enough to the girl sitting next to her.  

For the rest of the car ride, the four girls sang their hearts out to every song that Azzi chose. Paige parked next to the other two girls on her team who had drove the rest of their teammates to the club. Walking through the doors, they spotted the rest of the girls already sitting at a booth and made their way over to them. 

Paige

Nobody knew of my sexuality since I had never made it public but that never stopped people from assuming I was into girls. However, they were not wrong. Having grown in a women’s sport full of probably the world prettiest creations, it hadn’t taken long for me to know that men were the furthest thing from attractive. It was still a little surreal to me that people really wanted me so when people came up to me the second I walked into the club, I had to remind myself that this was part of the public image I had made for myself. For some reason, men where the ones coming up to me left and right even though I pretty much gave of the lesbian vibes from miles away. Not wanting to seem rude, I entertained the conversation while my friends made their way further in the building, trying to politely pull away and go join the group. When I finally got away, the girls had dispersed into groups across the room, some of them dancing, others drinking, only Azzi wasn’t anywhere in sight. Looking around I found her on the dance floor with a blonde girl probably the same height as her. My heart dropped at the sight for some reason. We had always been super close friends but we had a weird relationship. Neither of us had dated other people since we’d met each other so we’d never talked about our sexualities but Id always assumed she was straight. It confused me why all of a sudden I felt annoyed at the sight of her talking to another girl knowing that it was probably a new friend. I sat down with my teammates and tried to engage in the conversation but all I could do was watch the two girls dance together. It seemed like hours had passed before Azzi finally pulled away and walked back to the table.

“That looked cozy” Caroline joked making all the girls laugh and Azzi blush. She blushed. BLUSHED. 

“It was nothing let’s not think too much about it” Azzi said shutting down the thought of her and that girl. 

“Oh come on she was basically begging for you to kiss her” Kk said dramatically, leading all the girls to agree with her. 

“I was just not to attracted to her you know” Azzi answered, sitting down in the open spot next to me while taking a sip of my drink, a shirley temple. 

“You got someone else in mind?” Kk asked, earning no verbal response but only a smirk. 

So to cover what I had learned from this very confusing night - Azzi was into girls, Azzi was not into that blonde girl, Azzi was not into me because I’m also a blonde girl and Azzi has her sights on someone. I don’t know why the realization that my closest friend not being interested in me seemed to be the most gut wrenching news Id heard all week but I just decided to drink the pain away. I got up from my seat and headed over to the bar where I ordered several shots. 

Azzi

I watched as Paige took 4 shots, then 5 and then 6 before I finally made my way over. We hadn’t spoken since earlier today in our bathroom so I just decided to blame the alcohol in my system for my sudden boldness. Just as she went to grab her seventh shot, I took it from her and drank it myself. She turned to face me. 

“What’s up with you” I asked.

“Nothing” she answered back. 

“Don’t lie to me Paige” I told her stepping between her open legs. 

“You like someone?” she asked, changing the subject. 

“I don’t know, maybe. You?” I told her knowing she probably wasn’t going to remember this conversation. 

“Maybe” was all she answered with a smirk spreading across her face. I ordered a couple shots for myself before dragging the blonde girl onto the dance floor with me. 

What had started as innocent dancing slowing turned into something more when her hands found my hips and my back was flat against her chest. With the alcohol kicking in, neither of us were paying too much attention to where our hands would land on the others body. For the second time today, Paige’s lips rested right above my bare shoulder travelling to my neck to finally find my ear. 

“Let’s go” she pleaded, slurring her words. Everything in me screamed not to take her up on that request but my legs grew a mind of their own. 

We called an uber to drive us back to our dorm. The entire car ride, I could feel my heart racing and my head spinning. I’d sat in the middle of the back seat to be as close to her as I could. I was leaning on her, my head resting on her shoulder while her hand drew shapes on my expose skin. When we got to our dorm, all of the warning I was sending myself vanished. When the door closed, my back found the wall and a pair of lips crashed onto mine. I could taste the alcohol on her tongue and I knew she was tasting the same from me. Her hands travelled from my neck to my back, the presence of her touch far too noticeable from the lack of fabric covering the area. Her fingers pressed into my skin leaving their presence whenever they moved. The kiss was passionate and rough, both of us fighting for dominance. My hands were in her hair, pulling her face to an angle to deepen the kiss. 

Her lips were pink and swollen when we finally pulled away for air and while I tried to catch my breath, she took it from me again when she attached her mouth to my neck attacking my skin. When she got down to my collar bone and chest the soft kissing turned into sucking, guaranteeing a mark tomorrow morning. She lowered herself onto her knees the more her kissed got lower onto my body. When she reached the waistband of my pants, my mind sobered up. Softly pushing her off me, I looked down at the confused girl below me. 

“We can’t, as much as I want too, you’re drunk” I told her. She had always been a lightweight so the effects of whatever she had drunk were still pretty strong but she still understood my words and got up. Cupping my face in her hands, she whispered, “Stay with me tonight”.

I nodded and followed her into her room. While she changed into her pyjamas, I borrowed a pair of her softer lounge shorts and a hoodie. Looking at myself in the mirror on the front of her closet, I could see a trail of hickeys across my chest. Pulling down her sweatshirt, I was reassured knowing that they were fully covered. I turned around to find a almost asleep Paige lying in her bed looking at me. With a small smile I joined her in bed, my back to her, not being able to face her right now. Still, her arms wrapped around my waist pulling me closer and her head nuzzled into the crook of my neck. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep after that. However for me, I was up for hours after questioning what would happen tomorrow morning. 

I had never looked at Paige like that. I had never seen her as more than a friend. Sure she had always been pretty and charming but that was the extent of it. Tonight, kissing her felt right. I wasn’t sure whether it was the alcohol talking or if I was being honest with myself. Ignoring the small moment from earlier was one thing but ignoring the whole make out session she had just had with the girl sleeping beside her was another. Would she regret it? Would she be mad at me? Would this end our friendship?  I didn't know what to

expect but all the overthinking ended up sending me to sleep. 

…

When I woke up the next morning, we were still laying in the same position as last night. My head hurt but not as bad as I thought it would. Paige had woken up before me and was scrolling on her phone with her volume at the lowest setting. I turned to look at, the closeness of our faces sending a shiver down my spine. 

“Good morning” she whispered. 

“How are you feeling” I asked her. There was no feeling of awkwardness between us to my surprise. 

“My head hurts like hell. I can still taste the alcohol in my mouth” she mumbled, turning on her back and conversing her eyes with her hands. “I can’t remember anything, what the hell did I drink” 

There it was. That sentence defined how our relationship would go forward. 

“You don’t remember anything?” I asked her. 

“I remember you and that girl, heading to the bar and then seeing you but after it’s a blank” she stated. “I didn’t do anything stupid right?” 

We stayed in silence for a moment, Paige racking her mind for any memories of last night while I replayed every second. The feeling of her lips on mine, on my body, the feeling of her hands in my hair, on my skin was setting me on fire. I didn’t know her true feelings about what had happened and now that she didn’t even remember, I never would know them. There was no purpose in me telling her if she couldn’t even relive them for herself. So I kept it to myself.

“Nothing stupid that I can remember” I told her. 

“Can we stay in bed for a little longer?” she asked, begging. 

We didn’t have anything planned for today seeing as how this was our one day off for the week, so I nodded, also needing the extra rest. What I didn’t expect was for her to turn back on to her side and hid her face into my neck, wrapping her arms around my waist, holding me tight and close.