#finally managed to write something

[blackrosesandwhump]

June of Doom Day 11

“We’re out of time.” | Bleeding Out | Collapse | Flatline

CW: royal/fae whumpee, bleeding out, collapsed lung, open ending

“…out of time…going to die if we can’t heal him…”

The healers’ whispers filter briefly through the haze of agony surrounding the elf prince’s mind. He knows he’s dying. His body is screaming it to him.

“…so much blood…bleeding out quickly…barely alive—”

Can’t breathe. I can’t breathe. His back arches as he struggles for air. Help me. I can’t die here.

He can see himself lying on the bare ground, feel himself slipping as his blood flows from numerous lacerations marring his skin. The healers are doing all they can, their magic surrounding their prince in a faint golden glow, but it’s not enough. It’s not enough to reverse the destruction that the monster inflicted on him.

“Highness, please…stay with us…” The magic intensifies, and the healer’s hands start to shake.

Don’t let me die here. Outside his body, fighting for breath and soaked in his own blood, the elf prince pleads into the void, his voice silent.

I must live…to save my people…save them from—

His mind is swallowed in darkness as, finally, the bleeding stops.

[slashmagpie]

It’s quiet when the wild cards stop.

Pearl comes to a stop for the first time in hours, her body shaking, heart still pounding. She can feel the heavy thrum of blood in her veins. She stares out over spawn island and the server beyond, her breath misting in the cool evening air.

It hits her then, all at once. Impulse is gone. Her friend, her ally, the man she’d wanted to win. She’d given him everything, her resources, her totem, her time, her devotion…

And he’s gone.

The next breath in hurts, catching against something tight and sharp in her chest. It comes out shaking. She swallows hard against the lump in her throat.

Gem’s gone, too. If she’d lived just another thirty seconds she’d have survived the explosion of wild cards enough to see this quiet aftermath. Pearl could have been her friend, then, maybe, best friends again on red just like Gem had promised. If she hadn’t changed her mind again. Because Gem’s been confusing, all hot-and-cold, and Pearl’s been confused, so confused, and now she’ll never have clarity.

…They’ll never have that 1v1 either. 

The breath in burns. Her eyes burn too. The breath out catches at her vocal cords, not quite a whine, not quite a sob.

Impulse gone. Gem gone. BigB’s gone, has been gone for a while, taken by his snail, their friendly, (un)reliable, formerly nosy neighbour. Pearl remembers losing him before, gone too soon, time run out, and she’d wanted him to win, she’d wanted—

Scott’s dead. And isn’t that—isn’t that just—they’d made it to the end as a team. Just like Scott wanted. Because everybody had said they couldn’t, that they’d turn on each other like before, and he’d wanted to prove them wrong. And she still doesn’t know, really, how she feels about him. If this season has healed those wounds. If there's a part of her that will always feel bitter and sick and angry when she thinks about him. Even now, it’s still not gone. But they’d laughed, and they’d stuck by each other, and that had to mean something. It had meant something, however small.

She wraps her arms around herself, curls in around the burning ore in her chest. Her cheeks are wet. The in breath is just as ragged and broken as the out breath.

God, she feels pathetic. Completely and utterly pathetic. Alone and aching and everyone she’s fought with, fought for, is gone. Just like last time. Just like the time before. It hurts, and not in a good way, and she longs for the familiar and soothing sting of powdered snow. 

(A pain that is completely inaccessible to her in this world.) 

���Pearl!” 

She turns. Cleo’s standing on the bank, and she looks just as exhausted as Pearl feels. Pearl hurriedly straightens up, wipes at her eyes, sucks in a shaking, aching breath.

“Cleo!” 

Cleo doesn’t say anything as Pearl crosses the water towards her. She regards Pearl with sad eyes, soft eyes, and god, it doesn’t help with how pathetic Pearl feels. She draws in another painful breath, sharp in her throat, and Cleo opens her arms.

Pearl takes the invitation gladly, practically throwing herself at Cleo. Cleo is large and tall and broad and her arms are strong and warm around Pearl, or as warm as a zombie can get, at least. Pearl buries her face into the sweat-and-blood-soaked fabric of Cleo’s leotard and hiccups a sob around the glass shards of grief in her chest.

“Cleo, I’m so lost, I don’t know what to do anymore.”

Cleo hums, fingers running through Pearl’s tangled hair, and her voice catches in her throat, awkward and unsure before hardening. “I—If nothing else, we kill Joel.”

Killing Joel won’t make anything better. It’s barely a goal, nothing like help Impulse win, nothing ever so noble. (Nothing like get Scott back, nothing like protect BigB, nothing like get Bdubs—Joel—Scar to the end, it’s not—)

But it’s something. Something to latch onto, when it feels like the stillness of the world is somehow even more unstable than the chaos that had preceded it.

She swallows, pushes herself back from Cleo’s chest, looks up into Cleo’s dim green eyes. They’re rimmed with red and cushioned by deep purple bags, steely and uncertain and the last thing Pearl has to rely on.

“I agree with that. I like that, I like that thought. Okay. Y’know what, that’s fine.”

“That’s—that’s the law.”

“Alright. Fine. Let’s do that.”

And the words come out harsh, bitter, stinging her tongue like lemon juice and bile. Really, there’s nothing else to fight for, nothing else to win, not for Pearl. She’s not dead, but she’s already out of the game, all of her pieces stolen. There’s just Cleo, her old friend, her old enemy, her last remaining teammate. There’s just Cleo, and Pearl, and a half-dozen losses shattered between them.

So Pearl will sideline her grief, and take those shards, and she will do her best to kill with them. Just like everyone’s been goading her to do all season. Red in her clothes, in her eyes, in her blood, between her teeth. A stray dog that’s been ordered to attack. She doesn’t fight it anymore. There’s no point in pretending to be a person now.

After all, there’s nothing left to lose, and nothing left to win.

[mumblesplash]

heartbreaking: this viral post is saying things you completely agree with in the most irritating way possible

[lovealwayssay]

It would have been so beautifully poetic if Dean had rescued Cas from the empty paralleling Cas rescuing Dean from hell.

[valictini]

Anyway congrats to sansmaeda, see you all on sunday for the most wedding ever

Bonus: collective mental breakdown below

You just never know what to expect with this funny little guy!

[imtrashraccoon]

Hmm... golden boys 💪

So, with Dream Sans, perhaps a reader who has snuck in a small puppy and is currently giving it a bath-

The only reason how Dream found the two is the strangely Reader-shaped footprints of mud tracked along the floor and into the bathroom... and the squeaky barking.

(For added effect, Reader is a muddy MESS from wrestling the puppy to stay in the bath 🤭)

I thought because you originally sent a similar ask for Lord Nightmare, I would do this in a similar style? So, enjoy a special Don't Imagine, just for you my friend...

Don't Imagine finding a small lost puppy behind the barn covered in mud. How it's big sad eyes instantly melt your heart and how you can't possibly leave it there. How you look around to see if anyone is watching but thankfully find no one.

Don't Imagine scooping the poor thing up into your arms when you realize it really is by itself. How you don't even care that now you're all muddy too. How it whimpers and whines, trying to break free from your grasp. How you wonder if it's had bad experiences with people to be this afraid of you.

Don't Imagine tucking the pup into your coat and slipping back to the cottage. How you open the door a crack and listen intently before stepping inside, just in case your master returned early. How you heave a sigh of relief when it seems that he's still out.

Don't Imagine heading straight for the bathroom. How you draw a warm bath and search the cabinets for a soap that would be safe for the puppy's fur. How you are forced to give up when its squirming proves to be too much to handle. How you nearly have to wrestle it into the tub.

Don't Imagine the poor pup absolutely wailing as you attempt to scrub the mud out of it's fur. How it struggles to get away but you manage to pull it back into the tub every time it gets remotely close to escaping. How you realize this would actually be sort of funny if you weren't in a bit of a rush to finish.

Don't Imagine nearly jumping out of your skin at the sound of a soft knock on the door that you had carelessly left ajar. How you can feel the affects of his presence and how you know that you've been caught. How your mind scrambles to think of any reasonable excuse but comes up short. How you know he would see through any lie you could make anyways.

Don't Imagine how Dream waits for you to turn around. How your heart sinks when he meets your gaze with an unreadable look. How you quickly look away and suddenly realize how big of a mess you've made. How you apologize profusely and promise to clean up the muddy footprints and the bathroom. How you wish he'd say something, anything, and not just stare at you like that.

Don't Imagine how he sighs and reassures you that he's not upset. How you tentatively look up, not fully believing him. How his expression takes on a pained look for a moment before he quickly hides it behind his usual smile. How he reiterates that you've done nothing wrong and how he actually praises you for helping the puppy.

Don't Imagine how he chuckles and kneels next to you. Definitely don't imagine how he carefully wipes some mud from your cheek. How he quietly compliments your kindness. How his touch lingers a moment longer than it probably should.

Don't Imagine how all the uncertainty seems to disappear. How your vision narrows until all you can focus on is his face. How you wonder why you were ever worried about him finding out in the first place. How he comments that the sanctuary could use a good guard dog and suggests that he doesn't mind if you want to keep the puppy. How quick you are to thank him, promising to take good care of it.

[hxhhasmysoul]

Hey so i have been seeing this sukuna hates yuji thing very often and i feel like sukuna is still indifferent to him very much as I don't see difference in his behavior even after chp 248 .

Did I miss something?

I think we see Sukuna’s attitude towards Yuuji quite differently. To me, between the two of them, the person who’s been showing indifference, has been Yuuji. 

In the beginning Yuuji had tried to establish some rapport with Sukuna. He even approached him with some dose of sense of humour right after Sukuna ripped his heart out. 

But the moment he realised Sukuna can’t be reasoned with, when Sukuna refused to help Junpei and mocked Yuuji for asking, Yuuji crossed over to cold hatred. He repeatedly doesn’t let Sukuna bait him. Not when Sukuna blames Yuuji for people’s death in chapter 63, not when Sukuna tries to get Yuuji to keep quiet when they meet Angel. Yuuji just dismisses him. Even Yuuji’s reaction to Shibuya isn’t directed at Sukuna. It’s directed inward. He hates Sukuna but in a passive way, he prioritises other things. Trying to do at least something good after Shibuya, getting Gojou out, saving Megumi. Sukuna is an obstacle, but Yuuji tries to engage with him as little as possible.

The opposite is true for Sukuna. He talks to Yuuji, he tries to actively torment Yuuji and constantly questions Yuuji and his worldview. Tries to mock Yuuji.

I personally don’t like the word hate, when it comes to Sukuna’s attitude towards Yuuji. I think Yuuji unsettles him, causes him discomfort, irks him. Yuuji’s existence and especially perseverance go against what Sukuna believes to be true. He believes that only power matters and those who can’t go toe to toe with the strong are insignificant. He deems their lives to be pointless misery. Yuuji on the other hand cherishes human life, it matters to him on a very personal level. 

And even though Yuuji seems weak to Sukuna, someone not on par with him. Still Yuuji has power over Sukuna, he might be the only one apart from maybe Kenjaku and possibly Tengen that has ever had true power over him. Anyone else he can kill and keep his independence from, but Yuuji. He needed a plan, he needed to trick Yuuji into a binding vow to get out. 

When Sukuna was inside, Yuuji unsettled and irked him. But now Sukuna is slightly drifting towards fascination. He’s been introspecting a bunch after he got out from Yuuji, he asked Yuuji directly why he keeps going. He is trying to understand, while he never does that for Yorozu, Gojou or Kashimo. The groupies don’t interest him because they represent the status quo he’s always believed in. Yuuji is its contradiction, a glitch in the system Sukuna’d lived by before they cohabited a body. Sukuna ignores everyone else who’s jumping him. The only other person who’s sparked his curiosity is Maki. Though with her it’s more of a jujutsu nerd kind of curiosity. Yuuji interests him on a far more personal level. 

Of course he’s trying to put on a dismissive front, he constantly insults and diminishes Yuuji, but he’s also constantly thinking about Yuuji. It’s kinda “the babygirl doth protest too much, methinks”.  Especially that Yuuji is still not giving a rat’s ass about Sukuna. It’s kinda like notice me at this point. Like: I can’t get you out of my head, react to my crude cries for attention.

[deoidesign]

.

[halfelven]

Celebrían falls asleep in Elrond’s arms, and it is not a dream. It is just a field of heather, just purple flowers underneath a blue sky. There is a slight wind that carries the scent of birch trees, and the sun is high and white above them. It is not another lifetime; it is just a field and the wind and the sky. Everything real, everything here—her hair falling silver across her face, her hand resting on his knee. There is a rock sharp beneath his leg, and he is glad, for in a dream it would not hurt.

[hergrandplan]

Little snippet from an upcoming fic

Neither of them spared Simon a glance as they passed by, which would have Simon rolling his eyes usually if he wasn’t still so taken with Wilhelm.

He shook his head to get himself out of his stupor – focus, Simon. You have a job to do, and turned his attention to the next guest, all the while thinking about how gorgeous the stupid ex-prince had looked in his stupidly gorgeous suit.

[soupandsorcery]

Continued from this

They only have a moment.

Illario is waiting outside, practically vibrating his impatience, and Sole can smell the trouble on that one already. Just a hunch, but Illario doesn't seem the type to take being kept out of the loop with grace. Harding went with him, with a furrowed brow look over her shoulder as she withdrew, so there will be some explaining to do, once they're alone.

But all of that is outside, and in here, there is just Sole and Viago. Funny, how often it comes down to that. The two of them against the world.

Sole's missed it. In the privacy of their own head, they can admit that being sent away cut like a blade and burned bitter like poison in their veins, and there's a twisted sort of satisfaction to know, just from a glance, that it cut Viago the same to do it.

It feels like they're both holding their breaths, waiting for the other one to move first, to speak first, to reestablish the careful balance of all they are to each other.

Sole isn't feeling particularly charitable, so they just wait, face impassive, as the seconds tick away.

Viago breaks first, and that's a point to Sole.

He crosses the room in three quick strides and has gloved fingers under Sole's chin in the space of a heartbeat. He nudges upwards, and Sole lifts with the motion, letting Viago see whatever it is he wants to see.

"What happened here?" Viago asks. The words are surprisingly soft in his mouth, and he raises his other hand to trace the scar that slices its way down Sole's face.

"Bar fight," Sole replies, leaning into the touch. "Someone hit me in the face with a bottle." It's a lie, and he wonders if Viago will be able to sniff it out. The truth is a much longer story than they have time for right now.

Viago's eyes narrow, silently calling Sole's bullshit, but he lets it go. He curls fingers into Sole's mess of curls and uses the grip to pull them in close enough to fit their mouths together.

Relief.

Cool and instantaneous. This, at least, hasn't changed. Viago's mouth is still warm and unyielding, and he still kisses like a demand, urging Sole to part their lips and let Viago taste the truth from the source. Sole surrenders to it because they want to. Because a year and more has passed since the last time they were close like this, and a part of Sole is always ravenous for Viago. Time apart has only honed that hunger to a full fledged need.

When Viago pulls away, Sole makes a soft sound of protest, chasing him for another kiss. And then one more. For kicks.

"Enough," Viago says, and it's gratifying that he at least sounds a bit unsteady. "You have work to do."

"I think that's about to become the story of my life," Sole sighs.

"You will do it, and you will do it well. Don't forget who you represent out there."

Sole grins and fingers the spot on their hip where they have been branded a de Riva and Viago's own. "You know I never could."

Viago eyes the spot, and Sole sees some of their own hunger reflected back at them. "Go," he says. "Bring back Lucanis if there is anything left to retrieve."

"And when I'm done with that?"

Their gazes catch. Hold. Burn.

"Come back to me," Viago replies, like it's the simplest thing.

Sole supposes that it always has been.

[puppppppppy]

Jitterbug

[lesbianalanwake]

Scratch is still a distinct entity from Alan. I think the Dark Presence has just found too good of a host and has itself gotten stuck - it tries to use Alan to escape, tries to leap into Casey, but Alan is able to draw it back in, and its temporary escape is colored by Alan's life and perspective, its own will wrenched into a different form by Alan's, even more pronounced than the fight over the narrative was in the first game.

It tries to escape, and Alan reels it back it. Alan tries to escape, and the Dark Presence reels him back in. Ad infinitum.

The entity called Scratch is Alan and the Dark Presence both, where they collide and get lost in and overwhelm each other. He's not just Alan's "dark side" - I think that's too literal and simplistic an interpretation, after Control very much established that beings and forces exist beyond us and beyond our reality, and when these games tend to put layers upon layers into any one thing.

I was struck by just how much of himself Alan has retained in the second game, despite everything. Even as he and the Dark Presence draw closer and closer together, taking on the appearance of the other, there's a stark difference between them still. And that difference illuminates (hah) the thread of similarity between them that has bound them together so tightly - the sheer, visceral desperation to escape, which the Dark Presence has been trying to do before Alan, before Zane, before Jagger.

The first game implies that the Dark Presence has existed for an unknown amount of time and has been trapped within the Dark Place for a very long time. Maybe it wasn't always a rageful, hateful being - isolation in the dark will do funny things to one's head, and desperation will do a number on you. (Which we see in Alan. Which is mirrored in Scratch, in the Dark Presence.)

The slidescape from which Hedron, Polaris, and the Hiss come, that Jesse calls "Hand," is desolate and empty, nothing but red sand and five pillars that Darling describes as being like outstretched fingers. I think Dark-Presence-as-Jagger is just one of those fingers reaching up from the lake, a crude imitation wearing a long-gone face to pull at the strings of Zane's grief. I think Scratch in American Nightmare is another one of those fingers, living darkness once again trying to breach reality but never quite managing to break the surface, an exaggerated parody wearing dark rumors made flesh for a skinsuit. And Scratch in AW2 is all of those fingers, the Dark Presence wearing Alan like a glove, only to find that when it breaches the surface at last, it can't take that glove off anymore.

The "Drowning" video in the Writer's Journey is one of the most brutal things to listen to in the game, and one of the clearest representations of the game as a whole, despite how incoherent it is. Thanks to some lovely voice work by Matthew Porretta, you can hear the switch from Alan to Scratch. You can hear them mirroring each other, and you can hear where the Dark Presence sounds just as despairing as Alan, even though the last several lines of the monologue don't actually leave Scratch's perspective. When it takes over, it's speaking to Alan, speaking from his perspective, speaking from it's own perspective, and Alan is speaking through it, all at once, and it gradually gets more unhinged and incoherent and despairing. I will highlight it with some thematic coloring.

I'm lost. I'm lost in the dark. Drowning. I'm drowning. I'm drowning. No way out. There's no way out. Sinking deeper. Deeper and deeper. This is hell. I'm in hell. I died. I wish I was dead. Let me die. I just want to sleep. Please let me sleep. I'm so tired. I just want to go home. I've written so much. I write and I write. There's nothing left. It's all gone. I don't know how to write. All the words are gone. There's no more words. Where did they go? Did I eat the words? I don't recognize these words anymore. Are the words moving? This is familiar. Why is this familiar? I've been here before. Have I said this before? I've read this somewhere. Where am I? Who am I? Alan Wake? Wake? That's a strange name. A. Wake. That sounds like a character's name. Did I write the name up, did I make that name up? I don't want to be a character. I don't want to be in this story. Just write me out of this story. Ram these words down your throat. Make you choke on these words. I know the words. Secret words. You can't take the words. I eat the words. These are my words! Stop using the words! The words! Cult of the Word! This isn't your story. It never was your story. The story is a monster. The story will eat you alive. The darkness is coming! The darkness inside. This is my story! You're in my story! Get out of my story! You are a character in my story! You can't stop the story. This story will go on forever. There's no escape! You will never escape! You will drown here. You're stuck in a loop. You don't have a clue. You're lost. You lost the plot. I'll show you.

The Dark Presence is stuck. It's been stuck, been drowning, for a very long time, and now it's irrevocably tied itself to Alan. It can't get away from him, anymore than he can get away from it.

The end of the loop that we play through is a recognition of that, so perhaps later steps in the spiral will be steps to reintegrate Alan with pieces of himself that have gotten scattered - the pieces in Scratch, the pieces in whatever the hell "Zane" is. Maybe even steps to reintegrate the Dark Presence with its own lost pieces - the pieces in Scratch, the pieces scattered within and corrupting the Dark Place, the pieces in the light? I don't think either of them will be able to truly breach the surface and escape a neverending death by drowning without that.

While playing AW2, part of my brain became fully convinced that the "dark" and the "light" used to be a whole being that shattered and split at some point, and the "fight" alluded to in the first game and in American Nightmare was simply failed reintegration, over and over again. Because we see the Dark Presence splinter (into itself and Jagger and and Scratch and Alan), and we see the light / the "Bright Presence" splinter into almost nothing of itself anymore ("until nothing remains," into Zane and Alan), and we see that there's still a unity in that fracturing and dissolving (Alan and Scratch and "Zane" all having the same face).

We see that there's a light in Alice now - a photographer capturing light on a canvas, delivering a light switch through a shoebox, speaking cryptically across videos and phone lines. She's slipped into the role that light plays in the story, that Zane used to play, illuminating and guiding Alan up and down a spiraling path.

So maybe reintegration and unification is waiting somewhere down the road - Scratch and Alan, Alan and Alice, the memories and pieces of self that Alan and Alice have lost in the darkness, the "Dark" and "Bright" Presence, the dark and the light, constantly circling and never quite reaching each other until at last the branching spiral path reaches its end.

[hood-ex]

Ughhh just want it to be January already so we can see Dick and Damian interact. Although, Damian is going to be... a cat... but... I'll overlook what I gotta overlook, mkay?

[bow-of-aros]

Could we get a lil drabble with lee Eiffel & lers Minkowski & Lovelace? I feel like they’d bully him so much lol

He Had it Coming

I wanted to get something written because I am about to be Very busy. It's kinda rough writing-wise but I love them and the little family they built. Thanks for the prompt and I hope you enjoy this <333

-

“Wait Commander! I’m sorry! Nononono plehehehease!” Minkowski was merciless as she disregarded Eiffel’s pleas. Her brows were drawn together in the single-minded pursuit of making her Communications Officer eat his words.

Said comminications officer’s laughter jumped in pitch when she redirected her attention to his stomach, prodding and kneading the softness there in a way that punched Eiffel’s breath out of him in a wheeze.

Minkowski scoffed, “You’re not sorry. Not yet at least.” Her tone darkened, “Oh, but you will be.”

“So, what did he do this time?”

Eiffel managed to suck in a few hasty breaths when Minkowski faltered briefly. He turned to Lovelace floating there in the doorway, his saviour, “Nothing! I didn’t do anything!”

She just looked at him disbelievingly before her gaze slid over to Minkowski, eyebrow arched questioningly.

“He said that Chicago was a bad musical!” She squeezed at Eifel’s sides, anger renewed at the reminder, “Can you believe it?!”

Lovelace nodded, “Yeah, he totally deserves this. You should let me help, I found this really neat spot the other day that I think you’d enjoy.” Minkowski gestured at her, like have at it. There’s more than enough Doug Eiffel to torture for everyone.

“NO!” Eiffel, on the other hand, did not appreciate this, “Yohohohou don’t have to dohohoho this! Lovelace! Commander! Hahahave mercy!”

Of course, there was no mercy to be had as he was completely ignored in favour of Lovelace saying “There’s this spot right under his chin where, if you scratch it, he fucking snorts and it is adorable.”

Any attempt at defending himself was easily thwarted by the two significantly stronger women and Lovelace’s point was quickly proved.

“Aw!” Minkowski cooed, “That is adorable. You know, maybe I can forgive him if I can hear that a few more times.”

Lovelace grinned was Eiffel thought was a grin made of pure evil and said, “Your wish is my command, Commander.”

Eiffel made sure to sing the praises of any musical that Minkowski mentioned for a good long while after that.

[seaofreverie]

Sparkstember Day 28: The Sparks Brothers

I'm not a movie person... So when I do actually rewatch a movie (I mean, even watch it, at ALL, haha) it must really mean that something is up. I mean, well, it also IS a thorough, highly enjoyable and visually appealing movie about a band that I've been so incredibly invested in for the past several months. So maybe it's a surprise that I don't watch it more often actually. Because one beautiful side-effect of seeing it each time was getting an unexpected and very strong surge of motivation to keep on going towards the things that matter to me the most, despite any and all obstacles that could appear on the way. Another side-effect of it is being happy and joyfull and being filled with warm feelings and thoughts for the whole following day at least. Usually up to 3 days afterwards actually.

But ok, of course, what I'm getting at is that the Maels' story is so incredibly inspirational. Seeing how they persevered through all those years and NEVER lost their spirit or their vision, never gave up... is not only moving but also something that reminds me that wow, so much *really* is possible. I spent so many years fully convinced that there are things that I'll never be able to achieve. And sure, some of them are indeed pretty unlikely to happen. But if you told me from even one year ago that I'd be making art daily and not dreading being so much as perceived anywhere in the great world (so, including the internet)... well, I would have not believed it at all. I really mean it when I say that I used to believe that there are things that I'll just never be able to do. It's like it was simply not meant for me to be able do it and have those experiences. And yet...!

There's a lot I owe Sparks and this is one of the biggest things I'll always be grateful for. They really changed my life for the better. Truly nothing else before them reaches the same degree of how much it helped me. And well, I'm saying this on TSB day because this is where this feeling of gratitude and feeling SO lucky becomes the strongest. And the beautiful thing about it all is that they were always just themselves. They had their vision, they knew what they wanted to do and didn't care about how it would be received. Which is such an important and meaningful message to me, I can't even express how huge it is to me to see these two people who only really had themselves and their endurance and got exactly where they wanted to be.

Alright, some less grandiose observations now. Well, let's start with the fact that this was by no means my introduction to Sparks but it still really cemented my love for them even more. I loved being reminded of their whole journey and learning more about it, and even moreso I loved being able to see more of their beautiful brotherly bond and their wonderful personalities. Truly no other people in this whole world make me as happy as them currently. And the brothers' sense of humour hits super close to mine, so this is also a time filled with genuine laughs (I die laughing at the absolutely true Sparks facts at the end EVERY TIME). And since I'm a huge fan of animation and mixed media art and such things, this was simply a joy to view for my more artistically-inclined side too.

And damn, those two hours and 15 minutes really fly by so fast. When I have to arrange a huge timeslot to watch it all in one go, because that's the only way to do it for me, and then it feels like no time has passed anyway. And even with so much being said there, it feels like there's still so much more to get to. But it's still enough to lift my spirits completely for a pretty long time. And to make me cry a lot of the time too... Absolutely impossible to not shed a tear by the end of it all. It's moving, it's funny as heck, it's super fun and it's absolutely beautiful and truly lifechanging. 💖