Palestine Charity Stream
Edit: Due to router issues, the stream will take place Wednesday, not Tuesday! Sorry for the inconvenience!
Through this upcoming Tuesday Wednesday, to celebrate DanganWLWeek and make a small difference in the current humanitarian crisis, I'll be hosting a fundraiser in support of the Palestine Children's Relief Fund! The fundraiser is up and running right now, so you can donate it to it whenever you please - the earlier, the better! You can follow the link to donate directly to this fundraiser and have an impact on both the stream and the lives of kids suffering in Gaza.
The stream will be hosted on twitch.tv/pechebeche. It's been a long time since I've run a stream instead of just watching one, so it's still being set up! Please have patience if we run into any technological mishaps.
On this stream, I will be ranking and discussing F/F ships and characters in Danganronpa from the perspective of That One Lesbian Who Majored In Literary Analysis And Won't Shut Up About It. We'll talking about themes within the games, rare or often-forgotten content, and just plain ol' headcanons. We'll make sure to hit every single ship through this excellent tierlist by @catgirlchihiro!
At minimum, I'll be discussing every single F/F ship between THH characters and responding to any notes from donations. For each $50 we'll raise, we'll tack on another section! The following is the full list of stretch goals up to the current goal:
Base - THH F/F ships and everyone gets to hear what my voice sounds like! (It's not that impressive)
$50 - SDR2 F/F ships
$100 - NDRV3 F/F ships (and postcards giveaway!)
$150 - Komaru F/F ships, DR3 and spinoff F/F ships
$200 (Goal reached!) - Cross-game F/F ships (and Rantaro clearfile holder giveaway!)
$250+ - ???
$300 - Tsumioda keychain & stiff Kaemaki mini-print giveaways!
These donations don't have to be completed Sunday - you can donate at any time, including right now, and they'll still count towards the final amount! I'll also respond directly on stream to any notes you leave in the donations.
In addition, every time we hit $100, I'll do a giveaway of some merch from the recent Mochizuki Kei collaboration on this tumblr!:
Depending on how much we raise, the stretch goals themselves may take multiple streams so I don't lose my voice talking about girls for eight hours straight. However, any goal we reach WILL be completed by the end of the week, even if I have to stream a couple times! In addition, all stream VODs will remain on Twitch, and hopefully be posted to YouTube. Any donations after the first stream ends will still count towards the giveaways, but not the stream goals.
If you have any questions or offers to help, you are welcome to drop an ask in the inbox or to message through tumblr DMs! You can also e-mail me directly at
[email protected].
Even if you can't donate yourself, please do your best to boost this post! Regardless of the stream itself, if even one person sees this post and notices they can donate to the relief fund as a result, that's a win! (:
And if you came looking for my pinned post to find WLWeek rules and found this instead: the WLWeek information can be found here!
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TwiFicmas Redux: Shadow To Light
Happy New Year to everyone, and I hope 2024 is a beautiful and positive year for everyone - I think we've all earned it.
As promised, as an auspicious offering, the first 1000 words of the STL Ch 13 draft. Mary-Alice is being profoundly difficult about this chapter, but she's allowed to be a little bit messy.
Here's to a great year with more regular updates and more of my self indulgent nonsense ;)
Fourteen. Starved for so long of beauty
Once upon a time, a lifetime ago, she made a choice. It was an easy choice to make, because it was the right one. Because she didn’t truly know what came next; her certainty in her own visions, her certainty in who she was going to be - who the Major was going to be - had made her confident.
(She doesn’t regret it, she would never wish to go back and make a different decision. She just wishes… she just wishes that she knew better what was to come. What it was like to be stripped right down to the bone, layer by layer, from loneliness and violence and hopelessness. She wishes she’d read the contract she was signing in blood and tears and time, just so she could look fate in dead in the eye and make the same choice without a second thought.)
The Major smells like… he smells like something she doesn’t want to acknowledge.
(He smells like home.)
—
She feels silly after the worst of her panic attack is over, and the Major is there next to her with his arm around her. She feels utterly ridiculous, actually - the stolen t-shirt in her arms, curled against him so tightly… She almost feels ashamed.
(Except… she’s frustrated. She wants to demand answers - when is she allowed to fall down? When is she allowed to break apart and have someone else put together the pieces? In more than eighty years, it’s always been up to her to maintain control, to be the thing that bends but does not break and she’s so tired. But she’s also supposed to be better than this. Isn’t that what the Major always said? Why Peter always resented her? Even Maria noticed. Mary-Alice is sturdy, reliable, consistent. If she falls, she gets back up. It… it would just be nice not to, just once.)
“How are you feeling?”
The Major’s voice is warm and kind and it almost makes her feel less pitiful.
Almost.
“Present.” Her voice is quiet but her tone is clipped and distant, and she regrets it when she feels him withdraw slightly. She’s wrecking this, like she wrecks everything. It’s all she ever does.
(Maybe that’s why she was such a good soldier; she knows exactly how to ruin things.)
But the Major doesn’t leave. He just shifts so he’s not pressed quite so close, his cheek no longer resting against her hair. But his arm is still around her.
“Do you need to hunt?” He asks, and she doesn’t know. Everything feels odd and off balance and maybe she’s not as back as she originally thought.
So she doesn’t answer. She just rests her head back against the wall and closes her eyes.
The Major watches her for a moment before looking away. “When I met the Cullens,” he begins in a gentle voice, “I swear Esme only made Carlisle approach me because I resembled a drowned cat. Hadn’t stopped raining on the East Coast for weeks, and I’d been roaming the woods the entire time. I was disgusting. Maria would have thrown a bucket of water at my head weeks before if we’d been back home.
“And Esme took one look at me and whisper-bullied Carlisle into approaching me, like I couldn’t hear every single word. She kept saying that I looked cold.” The Major chuckles and she’s close enough that she feels the vibrations through his chest and it’s… it’s not unpleasant.
It’s strange being this close to another person and not being on edge. Not waiting for the killing blow, trying to figure out how to get to their throat first. Making sure that she knows exactly where their hands and teeth are, that she’s prepared for their next movement, for the tightening of their muscles before they lunge…
(It’s very strange being this close to someone, at all. She prefers to keep her distance normally. But this… it’s not the bad kind of strange, she doesn’t think. She’s just so intensely aware of him.)
“Just imagine it, will you - Esme wearing a tweed coat and riding boots and a hat to go hunting, and I look like a monster who spent a week sleeping in a swamp,” the Major continued, “And she was worried about me, like I was a soggy kitten.”
She can imagine it, honestly; his hair sticking to his face, and that gaunt, murderous look he got on his face when he was thirsty. Weeks of grime pressed into his clothing, his skin, looking like the monster from an old story or some mythological horror rising from the riverbed. Nothing sympathetic or pitiable about him for most people.
Right now, she feels oddly grateful to Esme for looking past all of that and seeing the Major as he could be.
“And you followed them home?” She tries to make the words sound light-hearted, but they fall flat and ugly, and she wants to take them back.
That makes the Major laugh out loud, a rumble against her side that is startling and she jumps a little.
“No. I told them to fuck off and leave me be; I had to tell them that a few times over the years until I gave in and talked to them. Let Esme convince me that taking a shower and accepting new clothing was a right and not charity. Let Carlisle remind me that I owed them nothing by ‘visiting’ with them. It took a long time for them to lure me over the threshold.” The Major takes her hand in his; his thumb smooths over a patch of scar tissue, a repetitive motion that feels… soft. Nice. “I think in the end, I hinted that I was ready for them to ask me to stay with them. I don’t think I was subtle about it either.”
“They didn’t ask you before then?” Mary-Alice feels the frustration boil for a second. She watched as much as she could bring herself to, for many years, and there are pieces that she’s missing. They just weren’t important enough for her to see, or something changed and recalling what she’d politely dismissed was too difficult.
(She had entrusted the Major to the Cullens. It didn’t matter that they had had no idea, all those years ago, her visions had made the contract. And even now, knowing that it all came together the way it was supposed to, it upsets her that he had to wait for so long to be taken home to his family.)
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i miss sub!steve rogers
I really miss him too! I think he'd fit really well with a thought that I just can't shake this week, I'm so wrapped up in the idea of backshots and then taking pictures on a polaroid camera. To the point that I got a fucking polaroid camera this week
I just love the thought of a sub!Steve trying out different positions for the first time and using it as a chance to explore his interests. Particularly because I don't imagine he's tried many.
I think he'd like to start off with the more intimate ones, where he gets to see your face and gets to whimper his pleasure against your hot skin. He can lose control and watch your face while you take it, and you let him give in and ground himself in sensation, rather than thought.
The sight of you on the bed, on your hands and knees for him is one he won't forget though. The way your back curves, presenting your soaking wet, fluttering core to him almost makes the man drop to his knees and delve his tongue deep into your warm heat.
He doesn't do that though. Not on that first occasion anyway. His head is ruled by an uncomfortable, throbbing need in his cock and it's one he can't ignore for much longer. All thoughts of a condom leave his head, he's just so keen to be inside you like this. "Oh my God." He groans with one huge hand on the small of your back, pressing gently to guide you onto his dick, rather than thrusting it inside you.
You gasp at the initial slide. You always do. There's something so delightful in the feeling of him rubbing against your velvety walls and feeling your body accommodate him. Your head almost spins at the realisation that he's now fully seated inside you. There's nothing at all keeping you apart anymore and it doesn't get more intimate than this.
"Fuck, you should see yourself." Steve's voice is almost a whisper, gripping and massaging your ass and groaning at the sight in front of him. This position is a little more than what he's used to but he's entirely convinced it's one of his new favourites.
"Take a picture, Stevie. It'll last longer." You tease but when you look back over your shoulder at him with a fond smile on your face, he does his very best not to fuck you as recklessly as his brain tells him he needs to.
You'd left the polaroid camera on the bed for a reason, he now realises. That's new to him.
Things get just a little bit away from him though. He can't bare to be so deep inside your throbbing heat but not moving so he gives himself a few little test thrusts first.
One turns into two. Two turns into three. Three turns into Steve moaning and sobbing, mesmerised by the bounce of your ass when you fuck yourself back on him. "Oh h-holy shit. God, that fucking ass. Sh-shit, I'm not gonna last." That's fine. In fact, it's essentially a compliment. The slap of skin on skin fills the bedroom, along with Steve's soft whimpers and your moans.
"That's okay, Stevie. Make a pretty mess for me." That's all he needs to hear, just your soft, gentle voice, coaxing him to completion. He knows better than to finish inside you but he's never been more tempted to just press as deep as he can and fill you as he is in that moment.
He resists the urge though, pulling out as he always does, this time cumming over the swell of your ass with a few frantic sobs. "Fuck, fuck, fuck." He chants, spurts of hot cum painting your skin, marking you as his.
"Holy shit." He sounds totally spent and you can't help but notice how he lifts the camera with a shaky hand, snapping two photos of his spend glistening over your ass. "One for you and one for me." He smiles, kissing you gently before going to fetch a damp cloth.
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