song-writer-melo-wrath

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Silly Game Time: WRONG ANSWERS ONLY! Why is the sky blue?

Photosynthesis or smth

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Support My Family Journey to Safety and Peace

🚨Urgent Appeal 🚨

My name is Jaber Al-Haj. I am from Gaza, married to my wife, Menna, and we have a little son named Hashim, who is less than two years old. Like any Palestinian family, we dreamed of a simple and stable life. But the recent war turned our lives upside down. The sounds of explosions never left us, and fear has become part of our daily existence. My son Hashim suffers from health problems that urgently require treatment, but the war has destroyed everything, including the healthcare system, making access to necessary medical care nearly impossible. With each passing day, our suffering deepens, and the fear for Hashim’s health and future consumes me.

Alongside my small family, I used to work with my brothers, Aboud and Bilal, on our joint project—a small lab for producing essential household cleaning products. We started this project with modest resources, dreaming that it would become a source of income to support us and provide job opportunities for our community. But the war left us with nothing. Our lab, which was once filled with life and hard work, was reduced to rubble under the bombardment. We lost our equipment, our livelihood, and with it, a part of our dreams for the future.

Even our home, our only refuge, did not escape the destruction. It was severely damaged and is now uninhabitable. We were forced to flee and live in a tent under harsh conditions unfit for human life. The cold, the heat, the lack of resources, and the absence of privacy have made life nearly unbearable. We try to cope, but every day brings new challenges and suffering.

Today, what worries me the most is my son Hashim's condition. His health is deteriorating, and he desperately needs treatment abroad. However, under the circumstances we’re living in, I lack the means to secure his travel and medical expenses. As a father, there is nothing more heartbreaking than watching my child suffer while being unable to help him.

This campaign is a lifeline for my family in our darkest hour. With your generosity, we can bring hope back into our lives and secure a better future for my son, Hashim. Every contribution, no matter how small, makes a world of difference.

Please support us through the link below:

👉 https://gofund.me/b8dbbb43

Thank you for standing with us and helping us through this difficult time. Your kindness means more than words can express.

With heartfelt gratitude, Jaber AlHaj

✅ My Campaign ✅ 🔍Vetted by @90-ghost here 🔍Vetted by association in this post

@90-ghost @heritageposts @gazavetters @neechees @butchniqabi @fluoresensitive @khanger @autisticmudkip @beserkerjewel @furiousfinnstan @xinakwans @batekush @appsa @nerdyqueerr @butchsunsetshimmer @biconicfinn @stopmotionguy @willgrahamscock @strangeauthor @bryoria @shesnake @legallybrunettedotcom @lautakwah @sovietunion @evillesbianvillain @antibioware @akajustmerry @dizzymoods @ree-duh @neptunerings @explosionshark @dlxxv-vetted-donations @vague-humanoid @buttercuparry @sayruq @malcriada @sar-soor @northgazaupdates2 @feluka @dirhwangdaseul @jdon @ibtisams @sawasawako @memingursa @schoolhater @toesuckingoctober @waskuyecaozu @a-shade-of-blue @c-u-c-koo-4-40k

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Silly Game Time: WEIRD GLADIATOR FIGHTS! A world-class ballerina with knife-shoes and boxing gloves she can't take off VS a hulking and strong killer clown with an axe whose ankles are shackled unbreakably together.

You've got $5 to wager on who will win. Place your bet!

I think based on the track record that they should kiss.

… That said, I'm all in on the ballerina.

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

We need to have a nomination for “Stupidest thing Tumblr.com has ever believed” and just move into an official Top 10 List.

For my nominations, I’m putting up:

If you eat a chocolate bar a very specific way, you will break physics and get infinite chocolate.

or

It is impossible that you spelled “Berenstain Bears” wrong and is, instead, more likely that the universe fractured into separate, overlapping realities in the last 20 years.

I can’t decide which is more beautiful. It’s why we need a vote.

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Warnings: Spoilers

Her mail is full of threats. 

It’s sorted for safety, but then it winds up on her table. Pain filled accusation. She should have died instead, how the blade should have gone to her neck not her eye. Jinx should have killed her. How could she do what she did. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. She reads about people’s loved ones who sacrificed themselves. Sometimes people give their names. Most of the time they don’t. 

Caitlyn reads them all. 

She learns about people’s families. Friends. Their darkest desires. How they would kill her. She drinks the poison with her remaining eye. When it starts to throb she uses the drops the doctor gave her and keeps reading. She got these people killed. She can at least know them. When they name themselves she adds them to the list. She makes sure they get their dispensations from the funds and repairs are seen to. Piltover will take care of all its citizens. She will make sure of that. 

After an hour the threats start to bled together but she pushes past it as best she can. She cannot let these people’s pain blend together like that. They deserve so much more, but she can give them that at least. She is about to take a break when the violent blue ink peaks out at her. 

Everything goes still as she extracts the card. 

She doesn’t recognize the place on the front. Somewhere with mountains capped in snow. The card is bordered in yellow. On the front someone has harshly crossed out bright letters. They peak through the ink. WISH YOU WERE HERE. Caitlyn turns the card back to the side with the blue lettering. 

SHE BETTER BE EATING. 

Caitlyn nearly drops the card. There’s no return address. Hers is ‘the big kiramman house’ with nothing underneath it. There isn’t even a stamp. The handwriting is more precise than anything she’s seen from the bloody nailed girl. It’s like a child practicing their letters. Maybe that’s exactly what it is. 

Caitlyn lets out a breath. It’s plausible, they never found a body. Something occurs to Caitlyn and she begins to sort through the letters. Silently she apologizes to every one she pushes aside. She will come back to them. But her mail is delayed. There’s too much of it to sort through daily. So maybe—

Another flash of blue. 

A cityscape this time with strange, alien buildings. 

Wish you were (NOT) here.

TRY HUMMING TO HER IF SHE CAN’T SLEEP

Pink, this time pink. A river with grey animals hopping merrily by. The sun is setting. No wishes decorate the front. 

SHE HATES THE DARK

Blue ink with a blue card. An endless sky dotted with airships. Two figures have been drawn on the front, holding hands in one. 

SWEETS ARE HER FAVORITE

The last is a pink one to go with a wide red desert. Puffy blue clouds dot the sky. Instead of a message there’s a chart. A family tree. Vi’s name is connected to hers with a long line. 

She traces the line with her finger and feels the indent carved into the bottom. The others all have it too. Each card has a secret. She grabs a pencil and drags it lightly along the bottom, adding graphite to the ridges and revealing the words. 

REMIND 

HER

I’M 

ALWAYS 

THERE

Caitlyn’s throat tightens. Jinx doesn’t ask her not to tell. Caitlyn is eternally grateful. They both know she can’t do that but it would feel wrong somehow to go against a request like that. Jinx has sent her the cards. Caitlyn can imagine her thinking this was the right decision. A clean break. She thought she was doing the right thing. 

Vi is curled up in her bed. Caitlyn wishes she could have made it her bed under any other circumstances. She’s seen Vi sleep for weeks, bleed out, cry until she vomits—all in this bed. Every time Caitlyn sees her in it she wants to scream. Wants to drag her out of this room and to her bed. Where things were better, where things made sense. But Vi just curls tighter and ignores her when she tries to speak. 

It’s anything but a clean break. 

“Vi,” she says, announcing herself to the lump in the bed. Vi’s shoulders stiffen which is as much of a reaction as Caitlyn gets from her these days, “these came for me,” she continues, “I think you should read them.”

Vi turns away in refusal towards the darkness of the room. She’s got the curtains on one side of the bed closed. It lets in light and gives people access, but it also sends the clear message she doesn’t want to be bothered. All one would have to do is open the curtains on the other side. No-one dares. Caitlyn perches on the side of the bed. 

Caitlyn is not a music person. 

She has no idea what to hum. 

But she does. 

Grey eyes miserably turn towards her as Caitlyn tries to remember anything resembling a tune. Her parents tried to make her take music lessons but she was never good at them. Still she forces herself to keep going as skepticism seems to cut through even Vi’s stupor. Vi’s lips are pulled into a frown as she stares at her, slowly easing from her side to her back. The most life Caitlyn has seen in her. 

“That was awful, Cupcake,” Vi mumbles, “if I read those will you never do that again?”

Caitlyn could care less as she nods and hands the cards to Vi. She pulls the first one from her bad hand, turns it over and bolts upright so fast it’s a miracle their heads don’t smack together. Vi shoves herself fully into the light. 

“Where—“

“They arrived in the past week,” Caitlyn says, “I brought them as soon as I saw.” 

Vi shuffles through them five times, turning each card over like she is missing something. Caitlyn is not expecting it when she throws off the sheet and gets to her feet. She kneels down and spreads the cards out, looking at them again like she must be missing something. Caitlyn eases herself down next to her. 

“She’s alive,” Vi says numbly, “she’s alive and she’s—“ she shakes her head, “she said she was breaking the cycle. Where is she?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlyn says. 

“Can you find out?!” Vi demands. After having her be so still and quiet, the angry shout catches Caitlyn off guards, “this could be a copycat.”

“Yes,” Caitlyn says slowly, “but I don’t think it is,” she motions to the hidden message, “she knew I would find that.” 

Vi shudders as she stares at the cards. Caitlyn has never felt this useless in her entire life. She’s used to making things happen. But here she’s failing on all accounts. Only Jinx has been able to pull Vi out of her stupor. Caitlyn has tried and failed so many times. She looks at the graphite boxes. Her fingers pick up the one with the airship and her features twist. 

“She said she was going to break the cycle,” Vi says, “how is this breaking the cycle?!” She smacks her good hand on the floor, “Cait where is she?!” 

Her voice breaks desperately around the last word. Great, heaving sobs wrack her frame. Caitlyn just manages to get her so she doesn’t land on her shoulder when she crumples forward. She takes the post card out of her grip and laces their fingers together as Vi wails at the loss. It’s a cruel thing that Vi’s ghosts never stay dead. She never looses someone once. Caitlyn thought she knew grief when she buried her mother. But the wound has started to heal. Every time Vi gets a bit of healing, the wound is wrenched back open. 

Caitlyn wants to promise they will find her, but she doesn’t know if that’s possible. They could date the cards, find the locations, but she knows Jinx will not be there. She will slip away again and the wound in Vi’s chest will rip open all over again. Vi is strong, so strong. But Caitlyn doesn’t know how many times she can bear this loss. Vi’s existed for weeks on nothing more than broth and nutrients. Her muscles are weak. She should not have this kind of strength. But she keeps sobbing. She sounds more like an animal than a person as she wails into Caitlyn’s embrace. 

Caitlyn just folds herself around her, pushing the cards to the side so they won’t get damaged. 

She expects Vi to go listless again. She knows she must be exhausted. But Vi pulls herself up painfully and wipes uselessly at her face. Most of her weight leans on Caitlyn. Caitlyn doesn’t care, she would bear all of Vi’s weight if she let her. She reaches out and touches the underside of Vi’s eye. The tears she wipes are immediately replaced but for a moment Vi leans into her palm. 

“She loves you,” Caitlyn says, “this is her wanting you to make a life of your own.”

“I can’t do that without her,” Vi says, her voice wretched, “Cait she’s my sister.”

“I know,” Caitlyn says, “I know this isn’t fair to you,” the words are messy and she cannot find the right ones, “maybe one day she’ll see that,” she tries, “but she wants you to let her go.”

Vi looks like she is going to sob again, but there are no more tears left. Caitlyn sees the white knuckled fist she’s making in her lap. A stubborn refusal to follow Jinx’s request. Caitlyn goes on instinct and covers Vi’s hand. Vi makes a noise but doesn’t try to stop her as she pulls her fingers open and slots their hands together. 

“Hold onto me,” she says. 

Vi gives her the same gutted look. Caitlyn knows this isn’t fair. She’s put them in this position how many times. Me or Jinx. Choose. Despite her words in the cell she knows Jinx is woven into Vi’s heart. Maybe in some world there is no choice forced upon Vi. Maybe in some world this all works out differently. But here and now Jinx has taken the choice. She’s made it for them. 

Vi lets out a harsh sound between a sob and a moan. But her fingers tighten on Caitlyn’s hand. 

Caitlyn kisses the back of her knuckles and guides Vi’s arm over her shoulder. It’s a familiar position. No matter the wounds. Something goes automatic in Vi and she gets her feet under her as Caitlyn stands up. Vi looks down at the cards. It hasn’t been that long, the cards all arrived differently. If they are to be believed, Jinx has seen so many places already. Places she doubts anyone in the Undercity has gone. 

“She wanted to see the world,” Vi says. 

“She is,” Caitlyn assures her. 

“I—“ Vi tightens her grip, “maybe you should just get the postcards for now,” Caitlyn looks at her, “will you tell me when you do?” 

“Of course,” Caitlyn says, “the moment they arrive.”

Vi looks at her silently and then gives a jerky nod. 

“Could you help me to the shower?” She asks finally. 

Caitlyn smiles and nods. 

The cards continue sporadically. Sometimes months will go by without them. Sometimes several arrive in a week. Caitlyn tells the Enforcers sorting her mail they are not a threat and should be given to her immediately. It’s difficult because sometimes copycats send blue letters, but Caitlyn learns the difference fairly quickly. Vi puts each one into a box before she cries over them. She treasures them, the only proof her sister is alive somewhere. 

Until the box arrives.

For the first time it’s not addressed to Caitlyn. 

“This is a bad idea,” the Enforcer says, “there’s gears in there—“

“Thank you,” Caitlyn tells him, “it’s alright.”

Vi goes stiff when she sees the unopened box. Her eyes widen when she realizes its addressed to her. She rips out a knife and cuts through the packaging before Caitlyn can mention what the scans have shown. There’s a dull click and fine glitter explodes from the box. Caitlyn is very glad she’s wearing her eyepatch as it coats everything in pink and blue. Vi looks back into the box, reaches in and pulls out an envelope. Inside there’s a blue gem and a card. Vi fingers the gem and offers Caitlyn the card. A smile is already pulling at her lips. 

She turns the card over to see familiar mountains. This time the sentiment on front hasn’t been crossed out. It’s been underlined several times. Caitlyn looks at the back. On it is a bunch of numbers. After a moment she realizes its coordinates and a date range.  

It’s an invitation. 

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

STOP DOING THIS IN INJURY FICS!!

Bleeding:

Blood is warm. if blood is cold, you’re really fucking feverish or the person is dead. it’s only sticky after it coagulates.

It smells! like iron, obv, but very metallic. heavy blood loss has a really potent smell, someone will notice.

Unless in a state of shock or fight-flight mode, a character will know they’re bleeding. stop with the ‘i didn’t even feel it’ yeah you did. drowsiness, confusion, pale complexion, nausea, clumsiness, and memory loss are symptoms to include.

blood flow ebbs. sometimes it’s really gushin’, other times it’s a trickle. could be the same wound at different points.

it’s slow. use this to your advantage! more sad writer times hehehe.

Stab wounds:

I have been mildly impaled with rebar on an occasion, so let me explain from experience. being stabbed is bizarre af. your body is soft. you can squish it, feel it jiggle when you move. whatever just stabbed you? not jiggly. it feels stiff and numb after the pain fades. often, stab wounds lead to nerve damage. hands, arms, feet, neck, all have more motor nerve clusters than the torso. fingers may go numb or useless if a tendon is nicked.

also, bleeding takes FOREVER to stop, as mentioned above.

if the wound has an exit wound, like a bullet clean through or a spear through the whole limb, DONT REMOVE THE OBJECT. character will die. leave it, bandage around it. could be a good opportunity for some touchy touchy :)

whump writers - good opportunity for caretaker angst and fluff w/ trying to manhandle whumpee into a good position to access both sites

Concussion:

despite the amnesia and confusion, people ain’t that articulate. even if they’re mumbling about how much they love (person) - if that’s ur trope - or a secret, it’s gonna make no sense. garbled nonsense, no full sentences, just a coupla words here and there.

if the concussion is mild, they’re gonna feel fine. until….bam! out like a light. kinda funny to witness, but also a good time for some caretaking fluff.

Fever:

you die at 110F. no 'oh no his fever is 120F!! ahhh!“ no his fever is 0F because he’s fucking dead. you lose consciousness around 103, sometimes less if it’s a child. brain damage occurs at over 104.

ACTUAL SYMPTOMS:

sluggishness

seizures (severe)

inability to speak clearly

feeling chilly/shivering

nausea

pain

delirium

symptoms increase as fever rises. slow build that secret sickness! feverish people can be irritable, maybe a bit of sass followed by some hurt/comfort. never hurt anybody.

ALSO about fevers - they absolutely can cause hallucinations. Sometimes these alter memory and future memory processing. they're scary shit guys.

fevers are a big deal! bad shit can happen! milk that till its dry (chill out) and get some good hurt/comfort whumpee shit.

keep writing u sadistic nerds xox love you

ALSO I FORGOT LEMME ADD ON:

YOU DIE AT 85F

sorry I forgot. at that point for a sustained period of time you're too cold to survive.

pt 2

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

oh anyways my dash is semi dead, and i'm still like deeply obsessed with bg3 and would reaally love to find new mutuals who are somewhat actively still posting about it~

also dragon age peeps would be warmly welcome!!! (tbf i haven't been the biggest fan of datv but perhaps new people would get me even a bit more into it 🥹)

tbh any new vg moots would be very super cool ✨️

so if you're 20+ and post about either/or please like/rb so i can check u out and follow! <3

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

the real MVPs of arcane

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

HEY SORRY WHAT I SAID WAS WEIRD I AM FULL OF CURSES

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

*me, checking my own AO3 account to see if I have posted any new fic I’ve been waiting for yet*

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

we all talk about doing it scared doing it alone doing it weird etc. but the the hideously awful truth is that you also often have to do it stupid

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

Silly Game Time: Would you rather have to spend a whole day wearing wet socks or an itchy sweater?

Well, this one made me audibly wince.

I’ll go with itchy sweater.

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

[voice shaking] I love Arcane, I wish gay people were real

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

made another in honor of season 2. everyone sucks. i love them.

[song-writer-melo-wrath]

btw i cannot speak for every person but in general i can say with confidence that people fundraising likely do not give a fuckkkkkk what else you post about. i’ve never seen this addressed but i wonder if some bloggers here think they can’t put their heart behind a fundraiser because of the other content they log on for. i promise it does not matter. yeah i do sometimes chuckle when i see dykepenis666falloutboy or whatever type gay person url in a fundraiser post but it just super fucking does not matter. like it is not a transgression to champion human life while also being a human person who’s annoying or horny or whatever but it is actually cowardly and presumptuous to pretend your content is the thing preventing you from doing more for people in desperate circumstances begging you for your help