Yuuri has a picture of Victor and him as his lockscreen and wallpaper, maybe from their day at the beach or a picture someone took during their pair skate or a picture from practice where they are both sweaty and laughing and so in love.
But Victor has (two different) pictures of just Yuuri and he changes them a lot (because he takes a lot of pictures of Yuuri and would like to use them as a wallpaper all at the same time), and every time he opens his phone he just forgets what he was about to do and stares at the picture for a full five minutes, marvelling at the beauty of his husband.
And one time, Yuuri uses Victor’s phone because his own is dead (when Victor is still in the shower or sth bc you know The Hair) and Victor’s lockscreen is a picture Yuuri didn’t even know existed of him looking out over the city lights of Saint-Petersburg with a small smile around his lips while he’s absentmindedly patting Makkachin, and his heart just swells until he can hardly breathe, and he figures out how to make your phone switch wallpapers every time you open them and takes a bunch of selfies where he blows kisses and makes funny faces and just smiles, but he leaves the lockscreen the way it is. And now every time Victor opens his phone, his heart stops beating for a moment and whenever one of the pictures appear Yuuri took, he immediately calls him if he’s not around to tell him how much he loves him and asks him to get married again.
i love ur fusion art!!!! if u have time/want to you should do a bakushima fusion
You’re not the only one that asked, but actually I already did draw it! It’s the first one I’ve drawn haha I felt like drawing it again tho, so here’s a doodled comic of the first time they fused accidentally ✌️
We never much care about skin, like the Americans.
Where we’re from, everyone has the same color, so we must fight over shades. You see, my brother had light hair and beard. Me dark, like you. I was like the black man over there. As against my brother, the white. Everybody thought he must be the good one. Yeah. So I became me. But time passes. Now I’m gray. Yeah, he too, I– I believe, now is gray. So you wouldn’t be able to tell who is light, who is dark. So much for fighting over color. American Gods: The Secret of Spoon
And perhaps I’m a little touchy on the subject and maybe I hold Carrie a little too dear to my heart, but the reason I do is because Carrie Fisher helped me realize I was mentally ill.
Oh I knew I was crazy, in the same vague way you worry that you’ve left the stove on at home, despite not having cooked yourself a meal in weeks because you’re too depressed to eat a proper meal. (Except you don’t call it that, you call it “laziness” and maybe try and convince yourself it’s a new diet called “whatever requires the least amount of effort to put calories into my face”.)
Something was “off” inside my head, but no one seemed to care about it too much. Even when they threw me into eating rehab for a perceived eating disorder—despite lacking several of the vital criteria on the checklist to have typical eating disordered behavior—no one gave too much of a shit. I was just a girl who was “too nervous”, “too in touch with my emotions”, “too fragile”, I was “attention seeking”. And their remedy to this was ignore me and wonder why I crashed and burned at regular intervals, blame me for being selfish, then go back to not giving a fuck until it inconvenienced their life again.
I was crazy. But maybe I wasn’t. Maybe if I just tried harder…so I learned to cope. I became the one who Coped. I was There For Everyone. I became Reliable and above all else, I learned to be Funny and make It funny.
My mother still hates that. She thinks it’s crass for women to be funny. Personally I think I’m fucking hysterical, but then what do I know, I’m fucking nuts.
Later, now with hindsight and being able to look at my life from a safe(-r) mindset surrounded by people who care and want to help, I realize that what I was going through was (and is) untreated PTSD. Whether or not the PTSD caused the other issues, like the depression, the anxiety, the compulsive behaviors or the ADHD I think I might have, I don’t know. I likely will never know, because the Thing happened and shot my still developing child brain into a million tiny fragmented pieces of unparalleled terror and poor coping mechanisms. It doesn’t really matter at this point, all that matters is dealing with all of it as best as I can, however I can. But there’s a very real chance I might never have gotten to this stage if I hadn’t found out that Princess Leia, my childhood icon who helped me feel brave and strong while my world was ending, had written a book about living with mental health issues.
I wasn’t sure what to expect from it to be honest. I knew vaguely, that Carrie Fisher had issues. The word “junkie” had been used by my father—while unironically taking a drink from his self-medicating poison of choice and my mother tutted and tisked about how some people just ought to pull themselves together.
Ten, maybe twelve minutes into the book locked away in my room, I can’t even tell you anymore whether I was crying because I was laughing so hard or if I was laughing because I was crying my heart out, but I was having a fucking revelation.
This was me, holy shit this was me, this was me, this was me, an unboken mantra in my head pounding to the beat of my heart, this was me, this is me—I do exist.
That’s a weird thought to have, right? I do exist.
It wasn’t, “I’m normal”, because normal is not this. It’s not feeling like your mind is running a million miles a second in circles while simultaneously wading uphill through treacle and juggling chainsaws while trying to keep all your Life Plates spinning and oh gods someone just handed you a kitten to look after. What it is however, is fairly common, and suffered with varying degrees of severity by a rather sizable chunk of the world’s population. I mean, who knew? I sure as shit didn’t. I thought it was all in my head.
You know what I mean.
I’m told some people get up in the mornings and go through their entire day without once having an intrusive thought or struggling to do basic shit like take a shower and manage to remember to feed themselves. I know, seems fake right? It certainly does to me.
And here was Carrie, my Princess Leia, laying out her issues past, present and probable future, in what remains one of the funniest, most brutal attempts at self-lobotomy on paper I have ever had the privilege to read. I consumed that book in mere hours, I devoured her words and breathed them in like inhaling steam in a sauna and breathing out fire in their wake and moved onto her next book, then her next, then her next, and by then there was this blessed thing called Twitter and it should be impossible to be hilarious and poignant through 140 emojis or less, but that was the kind of brilliant she was. And this was me, this was someone like me. And she was witty and brilliant and funny and yes, things were difficult for her and yes, some parts of her life were an absolute clusterfuck of mistakes, addiction and general all round fuckery leading up to that point…but she was still there, y’know? She was still there.
And it breaks my heart a little every day, knowing that I’ll never be able to tell her how important that was to me. And to thank her for it.
So instead I try to pay it forward. Every day, from one day to the next, I try to be a little kinder, a little brighter—a little more like Our Lady Carrie—and throw two loving sparkly middle fingers up at the world that tries to stamp out and demonize the notion that mentally ill people like me, like you, exist.
And we deserve to exist, and more than that, we deserve to be treated with human fucking decency.
And if you are of a mind that the latest news surrounding Carrie’s death means that she was any lesser of a vital energy force in this world, that she mattered less, that her words were less important or that she “deserved” to die because they found drugs in her autopsy report, it is with my profound and heartfelt best wishes, that I invite you to cordially:
When Lena confesses her love to Kara, Kara thinks ‘this is it, I’ve ruined another friendship by not loving them back.’
Because she knows that she likes guys, even if she hasn’t liked the ones she is friends with.
And when Lena stops by less and less, when Jess the receptionist tells her “this is actually a really important meeting” more and more, Kara is crushed.
So it’s isn’t until she brings it up to Alex and Maggie at the bar after a bit of alien ale, that she remembers.
“Well, actually,” Maggie says gently, one hand resting on her sister’s arm, “you technically could like girls too. Not that you do, but ‘I like guys’ isn’t really an argument. Has to be that you don’t like the other thing.”
Kara wants to be able to quickly say ‘well, I don’t’, but she hasn’t really thought about it. She came to Earth just as she was beginning to experience romantic feelings, and Earth has always made it seem like boys were the only option. She didn’t feel anything for any humans when she landed. They were too different, and she had too much going on.
In fact, other than celebrity crushes, when has Kara experienced feelings for anyone on Earth?
Have I loved anyone?
Oh. Yes, of course, she remembers.
She had crushes on many people, just before it died.
As Kara cycles through the people she had a crush on, a boy from her lessons, one who lived across from her, a flash of long, jet black hair, the blue sun of Casador and a girl whose family was in the same tourist group as hers enter her mind.
She leans back suddenly. Alex and Maggie are mildly startled.
“I like girls.”
She stands up, knocking against the table and nearly spilling all of their drinks.
Alex and Maggie are thoroughly startled.
Kara stares at them intensely, not really seeing them. They exchange a quick and confused glance.
Kara practically flies into the ceiling.
“I like Lena!”
Kara heads immediately for the door, almost crashing into a yellow fella, a table, and the waitress trying to clean it up, before she finally just super speeds out of there.
They laugh and Alex reluctantly pulls out ten dollars and hands it to Maggie.
The moment I opened my eyes in this dream, I was literally blown away! I have fallen so in love with this town that I spent an hour just walking around in the calm afternoon, enjoying the scenery. I am definitely dreaming of Cosmos again very soon!
Parallels: shocked blue boys in episode 1 and episode 94
They’re the same pose and very similar expression, but Yami’s leaning towards surprise, the colours warmer and darker with royal purple undertones, and a black background, while Kaiba is leaning towards horror, and the colours are cooler and brighter with icy undertones and a futuristic light effect in the background.
And that really tells you everything about these two: long connection, similar attitudes; Yami’s warmer, darker, royalty, and is surrounded by death and darkness; Kaiba’s colder but more flamboyant, doesn’t deal well with a lack of control, surrounds himself with cold light and gleaming futurism.