#i have so many good memories with this game

[juli-2004]

1. What song makes you feel better? Hmm I’d definitely say Linger by The Cranberries or Summertime by The Sundays

2. What is your go to comfort show? I have many lol, Supernatural, Buffy and Angel, probably more but I can’t think of them right now

3. Reading or writing? Why? Definitely reading, I’m not good with coming up with writing ideas but I have written some things, pretty fun

4. What is your favorite feeling? Accomplishing something I’ve been wanting to do

5. How do you like to take care of yourself? I like eating as healthy as I can and having nice long showers with music playing

6. What’s your favorite candle scent? Strawberry or vanilla with coconut

7. Who do you feel most like yourself around? My mom or my bestie

8. What’s a fabric/ texture that’s nostalgic for you? A soft fluffy fabric for blankets

9. Best childhood moment? Playing videos games with my family whenever I could or going on my dad’s work trips with my family whenever we were allowed

10. When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? Probably last night when I was talking to my mother and we were joking around

11. Do you have a comfort item? I used to but I threw it out lol but I do love my bumble bee pillow pet that I still use as a pillow till this day

12. What calms you down? Crocheting or listening to music

13. Bath or shower to relax? I don’t own a bathtub so shower I guess (I’m lowkey scared of bathtubs too, I slipped in one when I was staying at my uncle’s house as a kid)

14. What’s something upcoming that you’re excited for? I would say the I Know What You Did Last Summer sequel, it’s coming out pretty close to my birthday and I love horror movies (nothing can beat the original obviously but I’m curious to see what they’re gonna do with this one)

15. Comfort food? Chips with salsa/ pico de gallo, makes me happy every single time

16. What’s something you wanna create soon? I’m hoping to work on a new crochet project soon (I should post my crochet items on here) also a new drawing

17. How do you feel best loved? When someone tells me something reminds them of me (I love when people know me so well)

18. What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at? No idea but I hope it’s soon lol

19. Have you ever written or received a love letter? I have written one but never received one

20. Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart. My first interaction with my bestie

21. Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa? All but coffee, not a fan of coffee (I know scandalous lol)

22. Name of your favorite playlist? 90s/2000s mix (I listen to it everyday I’m so happy I made it)

23. Have you ever received flowers? Yes but not romantically

24. Who is your best friend? Nelly and my mom

25. If your soul was a color, what would it be? A light pink or purple

26. If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring? I would say the states or Italy with my family, pets and bestie

27. Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something? I have tried but didn’t succeed however I would love to try again in the future

28. What are you proudest of? My ability to learn new hobbies quickly

29. Are you a kind person? I try to be… I hope people see me as kind, I like to think that I am

30. What do your hobbies look like? Crocheting, listening to music, watching movies, making edits, reading, trying to knit, drawing

No pressure tags: I have no one to tag lol but this was super fun to do

✨soft asks✨

What song makes you feel better?

What is your go to comfort show?

Reading or writing? Why?

Whats your favorite feeling?

How do you like to take care of yourself?

What’s your favorite candle scent?

Who do you feel most like yourself around?

Whats a fabric/texture that’s nostalgic for you?

Best childhood moment?

When was the last time you laughed so hard you cried? (or just felt really good afterwards)

Do you have a comfort item? Tell us about it!

What calms you down?

Bath or shower to relax?

Whats something upcoming that you’re excited for?

Comfort food?

What’s something you want to create soon?

How do you feel best loved?

What age in life do you think you’ll feel most yourself at?

Have you ever written or received a love letter?

Tell us about a memory you hold close to your heart.

Tea, Coffee, or hot cocoa?

Name of your favorite playlist?

Have you ever received flowers?

Who is your bestfriend?

If your soul was a color, what would it be?

If you could live anywhere with anyone you want, where would it be and who would you bring?

Do you like to garden? Have you ever grown something?

What are you proudest of?

Are you a kind person?

What do your hobbies look like?

[mariacallous]

My earliest memory of 4chan was sitting up late at night, typing its URL into my browser, and scrolling through a thread of LOLcat memes, which were brand-new at the time.

Back then a photoshop of a cat saying "I can has cheezburger" or an image of an owl saying “ORLY?” was, without question, the funniest thing my 14-year-old brain had ever laid eyes on. So much so, I woke my dad up by laughing too hard and had to tell him that I was scrolling through pictures of cats at 2 in the morning. Later, I would become intimately familiar with the site’s much more nefarious tendencies.

It's strange to look back at 4chan, apparently wiped off the internet entirely last week by hackers from a rival message board, and think about how many different websites it was over its more than two decades online. What began as a hub for internet culture and an anonymous way station for the internet's anarchic true believers devolved over the years into a fan club for mass shooters, the central node of Gamergate, and the beating heart of far-right fascism around the world—a virus that infected every facet of our lives, from the slang we use to the politicians we vote for. But the site itself had been frozen in amber since the George W. Bush administration.

It is likely that there will never be a site like 4chan again—which is, likely, a very good thing. But it had also essentially already succeeded at its core project: chewing up the world and spitting it back out in its own image. Everything—from X to Facebook to YouTube—now sort of feels like 4chan. Which makes you wonder why it even needed to still exist.

"The novelty of a website devoted to shock and gore, and the rebelliousness inherent in it, dies when your opinions become the official policy of the world's five or so richest people and the government of the United States," the Onion CEO and former extremism reporter Ben Collins tells WIRED. “Like any ostensibly nihilist cultural phenomenon, it inherently dies if that phenomenon itself becomes The Man.”

My first experience with the more toxic side of the site came several years after my LOLcat all-nighter, when I was in college. I was a big Tumblr user—all my friends were on there—and for about a year or so, our corner of the platform felt like an extension of the house parties we would throw. That cozy vibe came crashing down for me when I got doxed the summer going into my senior year. Someone made a “hate blog” for me—one of the first times I felt the dark presence of an anonymous stranger’s digital ire, and posted my phone number on 4chan.

They played a prank that was popular on the site at the time, writing in a thread that my phone number was for a GameStop store that had a copy of the ultra-rare video game Battletoads. I received no less than 250 phone calls over the next 48 hours asking if I had a copy of the game.

Many of the 4chan users that called me mid-Battletoad attack left messages. I listened to all of them. A pattern quickly emerged: young men, clearly nervous to even leave a message, trying to harass a stranger for, seemingly, the hell of it. Those voicemails have never left me in the 15 years I've spent covering 4chan as a journalist.

I had a front-row seat to the way those timid men morphed into the violent, seething underbelly of the internet. The throbbing engine of reactionary hatred that resented everything and everyone simply because resentment was the only language its users knew how to speak. I traveled the world in the 2010s, tracing 4chan’s impact on global democracy. I followed it to France, Germany, Japan, and Brazil as 4chan's users became increasingly convinced that they could take over the planet through racist memes, far-right populism, and cyberbullying. And, in a way, they did. But the ubiquity of 4chan culture ended up being an oddly Pyrrhic victory for the site itself.

Collins, like me, closely followed 4chan's rise in the 2010s from internet backwater to unofficial propaganda organ of the Trump administration. As he sees it, once Elon Musk bought Twitter in 2022 there was really no point to 4chan anymore. Why hide behind anonymity if a billionaire lets you post the same kind of extremist content under your real name and even pays you for it?

4chan’s “user base just moved into a bigger ballpark and started immediately impacting American life and policy," Collins says. "Twitter became 4chan, then the 4chanified Twitter became the United States government. Its usefulness as an ammo dump in the culture war was diminished when they were saying things you would now hear every day on Twitter, then six months later out of the mouths of an administration official."

But understanding how 4chan went from the home of cat memes to a true internet bogeyman requires an understanding of how the site actually worked. Its features were often overlooked amid all the conversations about the site's political influence, but I'd argue they were equally, if not more, important.

4chan was founded by Christopher “Moot” Poole when he was 15. A regular user on slightly less anarchic comedy site Something Awful, Poole created a spinoff site for a message board there called “Anime Death Tentacle Rape Whorehouse.” Poole was a fan of the Japanese message board 2chan, or Futaba Channel, and wanted to give Western anime fans their own version, so he poorly translated the site's code and promoted his new site, 4chan, to Something Awful's anime community. Several core features were ported over in the process.

4chan users were anonymous, threads weren't permanent and would time out or "404" after a period of inactivity, and there were dozens of sub-boards you could post to. That unique combination of ephemerality, anonymity, and organized chaos proved to be a potent mix, immediately creating a race-to-the-bottom gutter culture unlike anything else on the web. The dark end point of the techno-utopianism that built the internet. On 4chan you were no one, and nothing you did mattered unless it was so shocking, so repulsive, so hateful that someone else noticed and decided to screenshot it before it disappeared into the digital ether.

"The iconic memes that came out of 4chan are because people took the time to save it, you know? And the fact that nobody predicted, nobody could predict or control what was saved or what wasn't saved, I think, is really, really fascinating," Cates Holderness, Tumblr's former head of editorial, tells WIRED.

Still, 4chan was more complicated than it looked from the outside. The site was organized into dozens of smaller sections, everything from comics to cooking to video games to, of course, pornography. Holderness says she learned to make bread during the pandemic thanks to 4chan's cooking board. (Full disclosure: I introduced Holderness to 4chan way back in 2012.)

"When I switched to sourdough, I got really good pointers," she says.

Holderness calls 4chan the internet's “Wild West” and says its demise this month felt appropriate in a way. The chaos that defined 4chan, both the good and the very, very bad, has largely been paved over by corporate platforms and their algorithms now.

Our feeds deliver us content; we don't have to hunt for it. We don't have to sit in front of a computer refreshing a page to find out whether we're getting a new cat meme or a new manifesto. The humanness of that era of the web, now that 4chan is gone, is likely never coming back. And we'll eventually find out if that's a good thing or a bad thing.

"The snippets that we have of what 4chan was—it's all skewed,” Holderness says. “There is no record. There's no record that can ever encapsulate what 4chan was."

[hockeygirl101]

Blank Space

Quinn Hughes x singer!reader

Warnings: none, slight alcohol consumption.

Enjoy guys 😊

The cold air of the arena nipped at my skin, making my arm hair raise and small shudder to wreck through my body. Here I was, again, sitting in this cold plastic seat, freezing my ass off. My best friend had been dragging me to Hockey games for the past few weeks, she had started dating one of the guys on the team. She wanted to go support him, but didn't want to be alone so I agreed to a game. One game turned into the next four weeks, every-time I was free and they were playing, me and her were there.

"Did you know Brock mentioned the other day that a couple guys on the team are single." My girlfriend says to me after the buzzer signals the end of the second period. I look over at her and roll my eyes. I had met a few guys on the team in passing, mostly the captain, Quinn Hughes. Exchanged all of maybe five words to each other but I thought he was cute.

"Oh really? Well please tell Brock, I'm not looking for anything right now." I pick up my drink taking a long sip. My friend shakes her head at me.

"You have to get back out there. It's been months since your last relationship." She says fishing her phone out of her pocket. She was right, it had been months. But I had been in a very public relationship, since I'm a signer, everyone I date is thrown into the spot light. Most guys can't handle that, shockingly enough.

"Yea I know, I just don't want to deal with the media twisting another guy I date. I mean, my ex is going around to every major gossip site saying I'm insane and only date pro athletes. They all do it, I just can't deal with that right now." I turn to her, she looks up from her phone with a sad smile on her face.

"I know, I'm sorry babe. But just please, think about it." I nod at her words, I stand up and tell her I'm heading to the bathroom. Once I get back to my seat, the third period had started. I sit down and start watching the game, growing up in Toronto Canada, I love hockey. All my brothers played growing up, I have so many memories of staying up late in the rink cause their games would go long. I snap back to the game infront of me, and I notice one player has the puck on a break away, 43 Hughes. He skates through everyone like it’s effortless, on the very edge of his skates. When he pulls back to shoot, the puck flys right past the goalies glove into the back of the net. The goal buzzer sounds and I jump up clapping, before noticing my friends smirk in her face.

“What?” I roll my eyes at her as I sit down. She shakes her head laughing as they get reset for another puck drop.

“Nothing, just Quinn, one of the single guys I was talking about earlier.” She states before picking up her phone, she quickly pulls up hit stats and hands her phone to me. she knows I actually care about that kind of stuff. I like to know how well the guys I date are at what they do.

The first thing I notice is his hair, he had great hair, always had. Even passing him in the hallways his hair looked good. His stats were impressive, especially because he’s a defensemen. As I scroll through his highlights I can’t help but look at his face, he was so handsome. When she arrives back with drinks in her hand she give me a look.

“Can you set us up? One date maybe?” I mumble to her as I hand the phone back, she miles and nods, already sending a text to Brock. The game continues on without anymore goals, but my eyes stay glued to Quinn. The way he passed the puck was magic to me.

After the game I head back to my apartment, having to get up early and head to LA for some work stuff. As I’m in my bathroom brushing my teeth my phone lights up with a text from a I know number.

Hey

I stare at it, not very many people have this number because it was my personal one. Only very close friends and family had this number.

Sorry it’s Quinn Hughes. Your friend gave me your number saying I should text you.

This makes my heart beat faster, in a different way. Quinn was texting me, I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think she would do it this soon, I told her to wait till I got back from LA.

Hey yes, sorry just not many people have this number. I just wanted to say I think you’re a great player.

After I send the text I slap my hand onto my face, what the fuck was I doing. I knew this was a bad idea, I should have told her no. But when I look back down Quinn had already texted me back.

Thank you, that means a lot. I was listening to some of your music on the way home, you’re really great.

I feel the blush creep up my neck, I can’t stop smiling. Not only did he like my music, he had listened to it just to mention to me I was great. I made me warm on the inside.

Thank you Quinn, I really hate to cut this short but I have a flight in the morning to LA. When I’m back did you wanna grab a drink?

I’m sorry for keeping you, but a drink sounds great, just text me when you get back. Goodnight, sleep well.

Sounds good, goodnight Quinn.

A few weeks had gone by, I had been so busy I hadn’t had time to text Quinn back, and I felt like and asshole. I knew his seasons was over by this point. But what I didn’t know was that he was in the exact same bar as me.

“Hey, sorry to bother you…” Quinn trailed off as he tapped me on the shoulder. I whip my head around, I had been hoping no one knew who I was, wanting to get a drink and then go home. When I met his eyes, my heart dropped.

“Hi Quinn, it’s good to see you.” I say softly smiling up at him. I looked him up and down, he had on a suit, very new money. He looked good. His tie looked a little tight. I could tell he was a little nervous. He smiles back. “Nice to meet you, kind of. Didn’t know you’d still be here, figured you’d gone home.”

“Yea I got a week or two left here before Michigan.” He says as he sits down on the barstool beside me, waving down a bartender. “I’ll get another and then whatever she’s had for the night can go on my tab too.” He slides his card over to the guy and he nods before running off.

“Quinn you didn’t have to do that, I haven’t even texted you back. Which I’m very sorry for by the way. I meant to, I just got so busy I mean I have a new album I have to put out and-” I trail off as I realize I was mumbling. That one drink I was going to have had turned into three before Quinn had even come over. I look over at him and he smiles, I mean really smiles teeth and all.

“You talk a lot, I like it.” He grabs my stool and slides me closer to him. “You know, I’ve always thought you were pretty, even before Brock told me you were single. Your friend was saying you guys were looking for somewhere to take a weekend away. Come to Michigan with me and my brothers to out Lake house, you’ll love it.” He says so casually, I blink at him in disbelief.

“You’re serious? Oh my god.” I start laughing gently, a little tipsy, now finishing my fourth drink of the night. I never had a guy offer to let me use anything of theirs, much less a whole house.

“Yea I am.” He chuckles out, looking down at me. “But in all honesty you will love it, you can text me yea?” He says leaning closer, “if you still have my number I mean.” He pulls back and winks before standing up. “I gotta head back to some friends I’m with, you want to join?” He asks sticking his hand out, I notice his watch on his wrist, and the time. Shit, I was sooo screwed, I had agreed to meet one of my brothers back at my apartment an hour ago.

“Fuck I’m so sorry Quinn I actually have to run, oh he’s going to be so mad I’m drunk. Sorry I will text you. And I will come with to Michigan.” I say as I quickly out my jacket on, and chugging a glass of water the bartender gave me a while ago, hoping it will sober me up. I text my driver to tell him I’m leaving and to meet me out front. I look up and Quinn’s still standing there. I lean over and give his cheek a quick kiss. “Thank you for the drinks, I’ll text you.” I grab my bag and walk out of the bar into the spring Vancouver night.

A few days had passed since the bar, I had texted Quinn when I got home that night, after I felt with a very angry brother waiting in the lobby. He had texted me the address and plane tickets for Michigan, once again shocking me. They were for the long weekend coming up, he said his brothers would be joining, and to bring whom ever I wanted.

The plane ride into Michigan had been good, me and all my girlfriends had sat together and gone over everything we wanted to do this weekend. Once we get to the front of the airport a driver was waiting for us. He drove us the next three hours to the Hughes lake house, but once we arrived, we all knew it had been worth it. The view of the lake house was enough to make me smile. But when I saw Quinn waiting on the front porch I smiled even wider. The car pulled up and Quinn opened the door helping me out.

“So? What do you think? Good enough for your weekend away?” He asks as he gently places his hand on my back as I look at the lake house.

“Quinn it’s so beautiful here I can’t believe it, this is amazing thank you.” I squeal as I wrap my arms around him, he immediately pulls me in hugging me back.

“Yea of course.” He mumbles out once he lets go, scratching the back of his neck nervously. “So small little problem, none of my brothers are going to be here till tomorrow, so you girls will get the house to yourselves tonight.” He smiles down at me, I give him a puzzled look. “They’re all idiots and booked their flights for tomorrow morning not this morning.” Quinn leans down and whispers in my ear, I blush at the small gesture.

“That’s totally fine, most of us are tired anyways from the flight and drive, probably gonna go crash right now actually.” I say smiling up at Quinn, trying to reassure him about the small mix up. He nods has picks up my bags, walking to the house.

“Come one I’ll show you guys to your rooms.” He walks up the steps, carrying my bags as if it’s nothing. I follow him closely as he shows my two friends their rooms, finally showing me mine.

“Mines right across the hall, so if you need anything just let me know.” He says hand in the door handle.

“Wait Quinn, can I ask you something?” He turns and nods, quickly moving closer, so close I can smell the cologne he put on this morning. “Why are you doing all this? It’s not that I don’t appreciate it, I do but it seems like a lot. I mean you bought my plane tickets, that’s crazy. We haven’t even gonna out yet.” I say moving so we’re both sitting down on my bed. Quinn nods along to what I’m saying, letting me move him to my bed.

“I mean, come on, you’re one of the nicest most deserving people I know. Even before when all we would say is hi to each other in the halls, I knew you were a good person. Why wouldn’t I do all this? I know what your exes say about you, and how the media has spun you into some guy obsessed signer, but I know you’re not. I just wanted to show you that.” He says softly, not looking at me but rather out hand that are still connected. I smile at him, pulling my hands away from his, his eyes snap up to mine.

“That’s the nicest thing a guys ever said to me, most guys are good for a weekend. I just grab my passport and their hand, the weekend ending in flames. I don’t want that with you, I can tell you’re a good guy Quinn. I don’t have to pretend to be a different girl around you. I like that.” I look down at my hands now, picking at my nails. “You don’t care that my exes all call me insane, or that I’ve been called young and reckless. I’ve never had that before so thank you” I look up at him and he’s already smiling.

“How about this, you nap, and in about three hours you and I will go to dinner and we’ll get that first date. We’ll take this nice and slow, and no one has to know anything unless you want them too yea?” I nod as I lay down onto my bed, Quinn gently gets up and goes over to the door. “Can’t wait to finally take you on a date.” He confesses as he turns out the light, closing my door.

I’m my mind I make a mental note, I scratch off my exes name and write down Quinn’s. I mean love is a game, you gotta play.

[angelnoe9]

Love beyond Deepspace

Chapter 8: Fluff, Fun, and You

Summary of the chapter:

One more off day left, so why not spend it going out? Date? Fun? Maybe both. Whether it’s holding hands, playing, or running into unexpected moments—this day off might turn into something more than just a casual outing.

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧

The sudden buzz of your alarm pulls you from the warm haze of sleep, and you blink in confusion. You’re still here—still wrapped in Xavier’s arms, not back in your room, not back to your world.

You fumble to silence the sound, heart skipping when you realize the time. Why am I not back yet? A wave of panic almost rises… until you remember—you do have one more off day left.

Thank goodness. If you’d ended up as a no-show to work without warning, your paycheck might’ve taken a hit. Not exactly the kind of memory you’d want tied to your time with him.

Xavier shifts behind you, his voice still thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Still early,” you murmur, sinking back into the pillow.

He hums, burying his face into your shoulder. “Then stay a little longer. Just a bit more.”

You smile, your hand finding his. “I still have one off day left.”

His grip tightens slightly, like he’s trying to keep you anchored to this moment. “Then I’m stealing every second of it.”

You snuggle deeper into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body seep into yours. For a moment, all thoughts of the real world fade away, and all that matters is the here and now.

If you’re not back yet, and you have that extra vacation day, then why not make the most of it? You haven’t had the chance to just enjoy being—to explore the world with Xavier by your side, instead of being tied to your routine. Maybe today could be a perfect escape.

A playful idea sparks in your mind, and you turn slightly to look at him. His eyes are still closed, but there’s a soft smile on his lips, like he knows what you’re thinking.

“Xavier,” you murmur, “what if we went out today? I mean, you know, just... enjoy it?”

He blinks slowly, clearly still not fully awake, but the curiosity in his eyes is there. “What did you have in mind?”

You grin, the thought of all the possibilities lighting you up. “Claw machines. I’ve played them in games, but... never tried one in real life.”

His lips curl into a smile, and you can almost hear the spark of excitement in his voice as he responds. “Claw machines, huh? I think I can manage that.”

You both lie there for a moment, letting the idea take root. A day without the constraints of responsibilities, without the need to rush. Just you and Xavier, out there enjoying simple things, like a scene from one of those games you both used to play. It could be a day full of fun and maybe even a little bit of mischief.

“Let’s go get our prizes,” he whispers, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “I’ll let you win as many as you want.”

You let out a quiet laugh, still nestled in his arms. “There’s just one problem,” you murmur. “I don’t exactly have any clothes to wear out.”

Xavier doesn’t miss a beat. “Then borrow mine.”

You raise a brow. “Pretty sure your clothes are going to swallow me whole.”

He smirks, already sitting up and stretching. “That’s part of the charm.” He hops off the bed and heads to his wardrobe, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a soft white hoodie. “Here. This one’s cozy, and it’ll be long enough to cover most of you. You can still wear your pajama pants under it—no one’s going to notice.”

You look at him, skeptical. “You do realize these have tiny cartoon strawberries on them, right?”

Xavier shrugs, tossing you the hoodie. “Strawberries are in this season. Trust me, you’ll start a trend.”

You sigh, a reluctant smile tugging at your lips. “Fine… but only if you promise to walk slightly ahead of me in case someone stares.”

“I’ll do you one better,” he says with a smile. “We’ll stop by a shop and get you something cute to change into. My gift.”

Your hesitation melts away. The thought of spending the day with him, doing silly little things, outweighs any embarrassment. You tug the oversized hoodie on and peek at your reflection. It is ridiculously big—but soft, warm, and it smells like him.

“I look like I stole your entire closet,” you mumble.

He smiles. “You look adorable.”

And with that, the day begins—with mismatched clothes, sleepy smiles, and a promise of stolen moments waiting just beyond the door.

With the promise of a day spent together, you both leave the warmth of the apartment and head out to the nearby mall, Xavier’s hand resting lightly on the small of your back. The air is cool, but the morning sunlight makes everything feel a little brighter.

As you enter the clothing store, you can’t help but glance at the shelves, a bit unsure of what to pick. Everything looks so cute, but none of it feels quite right for the day ahead. You wander down the aisles, your eyes scanning the racks, but nothing quite catches your eye. Xavier, however, is on a mission.

“Here,” he says, pulling you toward a section of dresses. “I think this one would look perfect on you.”

You glance at the dress in his hands, and your breath catches. It’s a charming white sundress adorned with blue floral patterns, so delicate and light. The thin straps and square neckline speak to a simplicity that feels effortlessly beautiful. You picture it in your mind—the way it would feel swaying gently with every step.

“I…” You blink, touched by his choice. “I love it. It's beautiful.”

He grins, clearly pleased with his find. “I thought so.” Then, he reaches for something else. A pair of light-colored platform flip-flops, with a soft yellow and beige plaid pattern on the strap. They’re simple, cute, and perfect for walking around without tiring your feet.

You take the items gratefully, excited to try them on. You disappear into the fitting room, and moments later, step out to show Xavier. The dress fits beautifully, flowing down in a flattering, graceful way. The sandals are just as comfortable as they look, and you feel like you could walk for miles in them.

Xavier stands there for a moment, his mouth slightly open in awe as he takes in the sight of you. His gaze softens, his eyes lingering over every detail. “You look… incredible,” he finally says, his voice full of admiration.

You blush slightly, but a playful smile tugs at your lips. “It’s your pick. So, I guess I should thank you.”

He chuckles, stepping closer and lifting his hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear. “I’m glad you like it. But…” He hesitates for a moment, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “I still think that hoodie looks even better on you.”

Your heart skips at his words, a soft warmth spreading through your chest. “You’re impossible,” you tease, nudging him lightly with your elbow. “But thanks. I think this might be my favorite outfit now.”

Xavier grins, shaking his head fondly. “You’re welcome, but don’t get too attached. I might steal you back into my hoodie by the end of the day.”

You laugh, stepping forward to give him a quick kiss on the cheek, knowing this day is going to be filled with more sweet moments like this. Together, you walk to the register, ready for whatever the rest of the day holds—hand in hand.

As you both step out of the store, your stomachs growl in unison, reminding you that all the shopping has worked up quite an appetite. Xavier glances at you with a knowing look.

“Hungry?” he asks, his smile already forming.

You nod, and he responds with a twinkle in his eye. “I know just the place. How about Tumi Hot Pot? It’s my favorite spot.”

You’re intrigued, and the idea of hotpot sounds perfect. Xavier leads you to the cozy little restaurant, the scent of spices and fresh ingredients filling the air. Inside, the ambiance is warm, with a comforting vibe that makes you feel right at home. The menu is vast, and as soon as Xavier sits down, he orders with a confidence that makes you smile.

“I’ll get the usual,” Xavier says with a confidence, his tone almost too familiar, as if he’s been coming here for years. “You’ll like it.”

He looks over at you, his expression turning thoughtful. “Do you prefer spicy or mild?” he asks.

You think for a moment, then shake your head. “Mild, please. I can’t handle too much spice.”

Xavier nods with a small smirk, placing the order with a sense of authority. “Mild it is. They’ll make it perfect.”

Not long after, the waiter brings over a collection of dishes that look as appetizing as they smell—steaming bowls of beef, lamb, fish, and noodles, the spicy soup red and vibrant in color. The bowls themselves are adorably themed like little rabbits, and you can’t resist pulling out your phone to snap a picture of the cute designs.

To your surprise, when you glance up, Xavier is holding his phone out, capturing a picture of you. “You look cute,” he says with a soft chuckle, his eyes fond as they settle on you.

You smile back, feeling a warm blush rise to your cheeks. “I wasn’t expecting a photo shoot with my meal,” you tease.

Xavier just shrugs, looking completely unbothered by your playful words. “You’re always camera-ready.”

You both dig into the hotpot, the rich flavors warming you from the inside out. Each bite is comforting, delicious, and made better by Xavier’s animated commentary—how he critiques the broth like a seasoned food critic, or winces dramatically after sipping the extra spicy soup he insisted on. You can’t help but laugh, the kind that bubbles up easily in his presence.

He looks so at ease here, completely in his element, and that comfort is contagious. Before long, your bowl is empty, your belly full, and your heart even fuller.

By the time you both lean back, thoroughly satisfied, there’s a shared sense of contentment hanging between you. No rush, no stress—just the gentle thrill of knowing the day is far from over, and more memories are waiting to be made.

After the meal, Xavier takes you by the hand and leads you out of the restaurant. You wander through the street, making your way to the Twinkle Toy store. You’re immediately drawn to the colorful array of plush toys displayed in one of the claw machines.

Xavier watches you, his eyes lighting up with a spark of mischief. “Claw machine?” he suggests with a raised eyebrow. “Think we can win something?”

You both take turns trying to grab a cute plushie, but neither of you has much luck. Xavier’s attempts are just as unsuccessful as yours, with the claw consistently slipping off whatever you both try to grab.

Then, your eyes land on something, and you smile. In the corner of the machine, there’s a row of adorable bunny dolls, their ears perked in the cutest way. They’re just begging to be won.

Xavier notices your gaze and smile. “Do you want this bunny plushie?”

He steps up, a determined look crossing his face. “I’m getting that bunny for you.”

You watch with amusement as Xavier leans in, his concentration unwavering. With his Evol, his hands glow with a soft light as he carefully uses his powers to manipulate the claw, making sure it’s lined up perfectly.

The claw descends, and with a light flick of his wrist, it grabs hold of the bunny plushie. It’s not the cleanest grab, but Xavier manages to secure it, pulling the plushie out and into the prize slot.

He grins widely, handing you the cute bunny. “For you.”

You laugh, touched by his effort. “I can’t believe you used your Evol for this.”

Xavier shrugs, looking pleased. “Anything for you.”

You hold the plushie close, your fingers brushing over the soft fabric of the plushie. It has long, light-colored hair and delicate features that oddly remind you of someone—elegant, composed, and a little too perfect.

You glance at Xavier, a teasing smile curling on your lips. “This plushie kind of looks like you, you know.”

He raises a brow, clearly amused. “Is that so?”

You nod, cradling the plushie like it’s the most precious prize. “Stylish, a little cute, definitely has main character energy.”

Xavier chuckles, brushing his fingers against your arm. “Then I suppose it was meant to be yours.”

As you both step out of the store, the playful energy lingers in the air. The sun is warm, your hands are full—with the doll and his hand in yours—and your heart feels lighter than it has in days. Moments like these—simple, silly, and filled with laughter—are the ones you know you’ll keep close forever.

And you can’t wait to see what else the day has in store for the two of you.

Not far down the street, a colorful storefront catches your attention. Bright lettering spells out Twinkle Photobooth, and inside, you spot rows of costumes, props, and photo booths glowing with soft, inviting light. Your steps slow as a sudden wave of nostalgia washes over you. You remember this—taking endless photos with the characters in the game, posing together in all sorts of outfits and silly filters.

You glance up at Xavier, eyes sparkling. “Can we… take a photo together?”

He blinks, then chuckles softly. “You want to take a photo? With me?”

“No,” you say with a teasing smile. “I want a memory—with you.”

That’s all it takes. Without protest, he lets you lead him inside. The atmosphere is light and fun, with a robotic assistant chirping out greetings and pointing you toward the DIY booth. You both head toward the props station, and you quickly grab a pair of bunny ears and plop them onto Xavier’s head. Then, you pick a set of cat ears for yourself.

“There,” you say, stepping back to admire your work. “Now you match my plushie.”

Xavier glances at the doll in your arm, then at himself in the mirror, ears slightly askew. “I’m not sure if I should be flattered or offended.”

You laugh, striking a playful pose in front of the camera. “Definitely flattered.”

He lets out a breathy chuckle and joins you, looping an arm around your waist. The camera snaps as he leans in close, whispering something teasing that makes you blush and giggle. Then he pulls a serious face in the next frame, and you poke his cheek, ruining his act.

Before long, you’re both caught up in the moment, switching poses, trying out ridiculous props, and grinning way too wide for the camera to catch everything. And when the photo strip finally prints out, it’s a perfect mix of cute chaos and stolen glances that speak louder than any caption.

“We look… kind of silly,” he murmurs, but there’s a smile tugging at his lips. “But I like it.”

You smile, slipping the photo into your bag. “We look happy.”

And that’s more than enough.

The day slips by faster than either of you expect. Time always seems to move differently when you're with him—like the world slows down just enough to let you savor it, only to speed up when you're not looking.

By the time you step out of the photobooth, the sky is already painted in shades of gold and soft lavender, the warmth of the afternoon giving way to the gentle breeze of evening.

Xavier glances at the sky, then at you. “Dinner?”

You nod, your stomach agreeing before you can speak.

He leads you to a nearby restaurant, tucked just off the main street. The place is cozy, softly lit, with a calm ambiance that feels like a nice wind-down from the day’s excitement. You both settle in, and when the server comes by, you order a plate of chicken rice and some refreshing drinks.

Over the meal, the conversation flows as easily as the laughter. You talk about everything—the claw machine, the doll, the photo booth mishaps. He teases you about your cat ears, and you remind him how well the bunny ones suited him. He only smirks in response, sipping his drink with that familiar glint in his eye.

It’s simple. Easy. Comfortable. The kind of dinner you’ll think about later—not for the food, but for the warmth that settled in your chest the entire time.

And as the evening deepens, so does the quiet comfort between you. Just you and him, sharing another small, perfect moment in a day that already feels unforgettable.

After dinner, Xavier suggests a slow walk through the nearby park before heading back. The night air is cool and crisp, carrying the scent of flowers and distant street food. Stars begin to scatter across the dusky sky, twinkling like tiny lanterns.

You stroll side by side, his fingers brushing yours until they tangle together again, like magnets drawn by some invisible thread.

“Full day,” you murmur, hugging the plushie close.

Xavier glances at you, his smile soft and a little sleepy. “You tired?”

“A little. But I don’t want it to end yet.”

He stops walking and turns to face you beneath a tree wrapped in delicate fairy lights. “Then let’s make it last a little longer, Starlight.”

You blink at the nickname, warmth blooming in your chest. “…Starlight?”

He shrugs, eyes holding a spark of mischief. “It suits you. You shine without even trying.”

Your heart does a quiet little somersault.

As you sit together on a nearby bench, the park quiet and peaceful around you, he suddenly lifts his hand. A faint shimmer glows at his fingertips—his Evol stirring to life. Slowly, threads of light weave through the air, forming into the shape of a small bunny. It floats gently in front of you, made of soft, radiant strands like moonlight spun into form.

You stare in awe. “It’s… so cute.”

He watches your expression, clearly pleased. “It reminded me of you. Soft, a little stubborn… and somehow always glowing.”

You laugh, cheeks warm. The bunny flickers slightly before settling in your lap like a little guardian of the night.

The two of you sit in peaceful silence under the tree, the glowing bunny pulsing softly beside you. The world around you feels far away—just light, warmth, and the quiet bond between two people sharing a moment.

Eventually, when the breeze grows a little cooler and your eyes begin to droop, you both stand and start walking back, hands still intertwined.

Back at the apartment, Xavier helps you out of the sandals you'd been wearing all day, placing them neatly by the door. You look at him—this man who can turn light into magic and ordinary days into memories—and your heart feels impossibly full.

“Thanks,” you say softly.

He tilts his head. “For what?”

“For today. For calling me ‘Starlight.’ For the bunny. For… everything.”

Xavier just smiles, brushing his knuckles gently along your cheek. “Anytime.”

And with that, the day finally winds down—tucked away like a perfect photo in your heart, glowing gently with the light of every moment shared.

After a few more moments of quiet conversation, you realize the day has caught up with you. Your eyes feel heavier, and the exhaustion of all the fun you had begins to settle in.

“I think I’ll change back into something comfortable,” you say with a yawn.

Xavier nods, his hand still loosely holding yours. “I’ll be right here.”

You slip into the bathroom, removing the dress and sandals Xavier picked out for you earlier. You pull on your soft pajama pants again, the familiar fabric warm and cozy against your skin. The one constant, however, is the oversized hoodie that still belongs to him. It hangs off your shoulders, the sleeves long enough to cover your hands completely, and it smells faintly of him—comforting, like a promise.

When you emerge, you find Xavier already sitting on the bed, his eyes immediately lifting from his phone as he hears the door open. His gaze softens when he sees you in his hoodie, and his lips curve into a smile.

“You look good in that,” he says, his voice low and warm, as he pats the spot next to him.

You chuckle, pulling the hood up over your head a little. “I feel like I’m swimming in it.”

He shakes his head fondly, his smile widening. “No, you look perfect.”

You slide onto the bed next to him, settling under the covers. The two of you stay like that for a while, quiet and content, each enjoying the other’s presence. The faint glow of the night lights from the city outside seeps into the room, casting everything in a soft, golden hue.

Finally, as the quiet stretches between you, Xavier turns his head to look at you, his expression tender. “Are you ready for sleep?”

You nod, your eyelids starting to feel heavier with every passing second. “Yeah... but I want to thank you, again. For today. For everything.”

He leans over and presses a soft kiss to your forehead, the warmth of his lips lingering. “You don’t need to thank me. I’m just glad I got to spend today with you.”

You smile, letting the peaceful silence take over, feeling safe, secure, and loved.

You both curl up into bed, with the world outside fading away, leaving only the sound of each other's breathing and the warmth of shared moments.

Xavier's arm naturally drapes around you, pulling you closer, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

As sleep slowly claims you, your thoughts are filled with all the little joys of the day—his teasing, the fun at the photo booth, the light bunny he made just for you—and the certainty that moments like these are exactly what you’ve always wanted.

˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧₊⟡₊˚⊹˖⁺‧

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[bored-trans-orchidsexual]

Funnily enough, I ALSO hate DnD beyond and have since day 1, but for completely different reasons and overall stand differently on this.

"but it's useful to remember my abilities and spells" Yes, it is... and in no way uniquely. It's more descriptive than an official character sheet, but it has ZERO advantage over a blank sheet of paper or even a notes app, except that the words are all there for you without having to copy anything. and if the goal is to remember... copying things down is a GREAT way to build memory, it's literally a popular exercise for children to study. "there's so much text I can't keep track of it all" It's literally ... the same amount of information. On paper, on an official sheet, on dnd beyond... the app is not some TARDIS that makes the many words, less words. either you have all the info and have to keep track of it or it has less info and we're back to point #1. "but how will my DM see my sheets and keep track of my damage" literally don't fucking worry about it. If you're such a novice to DnD you don't understand how DMs operate, you do not need to worry about it, and if you are in the know... for any DM who *wants* to track your sheets and damage they already are. For my playgroup as the DM I'm practically the only one actually working with the sheets we use, offering reminders and tracking HP, spell slots, ect. Yes the other players are a well but I keep track for myself because I'm RUNNING THE GAME and it's a good idea to be aware of how it's going, it's like the HUD gages of DMing. If a player thinks they have more (or less) HP or spell slots or something, if I voice it's different they don't even question it because they play with me and know I'm tracking every spell, point of damage, ect and will even remind them when they have something situationally useful. Maybe you don't play that way but whatever your way of play, your DM (unless they entirely rely on dnD beyond) will have thier own methods of tracking everything. we have screens for a reason. and my main issue with DnD beyond? it's so RESTRICTIVE. What's stopping me from adding additional skills to be proficient with in DnD? for everything else, *nothing* I can write them in. for dnD Beyond? BZZT this engine wasn't designed to be changed that way. You want to refresh a single feature with a custom item or change how a class feature works in your games? Sorry, that's not how you play dnd, according to this app. yo restore through long resting or spells only, and features are thier official versions, or nothing. For how popular homebrew classes are I'm shocked DnD Beyond was as popular as it was, I literally use word documents I make and edit myself for each player and it works so much better because you aren't arbitrarily limited.

I may not be openly vocal about it but I am a certified dndbeyond hater. Have been since day one. Log the fuck off, cancel your account, and stop paying hasbro rent on your imagination. I'm serious.

"OH but it's so useful to help remember all my character abilities and spells"

No it's not. You've only been tricked into thinking it's easy because you're a fucking Ipad baby who's let your brain be sandpapered smooth by corprorate UI design. The moment the wifi cuts out or your app fails to load you're going to forget how to play your character and you're going to eat up precious session time looking it up on your phone.

"but there's so much text, I could never keep track of it all!"

PAPER, motherfucker. Read your abilities and either transcribe them into a word doc to print out or grab a notebook from the dollarstore. Writing them out this way will not only keep them on hand but help you learn how they work in the first place. Doodle in the margins, apply cute stickers, and spill things on them like god intended.

"But how will my DM be able to see my stats and track my damage?"

Why the fuck does your DM need to manage your character sheet? That's your job. Keeping track of your abilities and doing minor math is part of the fun of the game, and the moment you let a computer do the gruntwork you've put up another barrier between you and the character you've created.

Don't even get me started on people who pay for digital dice skins when real dice are right there. Real life illustration of Plato's cave.

[yourfavasamilkshake]

Hiya Papa! May I get one "In Stars And Time" Siffrin milkshake please?

He's the sillyjokepuns person and Rogue/trap master of his five person party/friends/family, and is currently stuck in a timeloop! They're doing Great! (no they are not get them therapy please-)

Entire game is black and white (red shows up a little if something is "breaking"), Sif has incredible self-esteem issues that I'm not entirely sure you can show through a milkshake, and he is allergic to pineapple! Like, seriously allergic. Tastes spicy, then gone.

Good luck Papa!

Siffrin from In Stars And Time has been SHAKED!

Papa made two shakes today; a fully monochrome one (excepting red) adhering to the ISAT worldbuilding, and one with other colours for fun.

Base is bonfire toffee mixable and vanilla syrup on a low-blend. What can I say, bonfire topping continues to be the most emo ingredient possible. The jagged fragments of the bonfire toffee represent Siffrin's fractured, damaged memories, the brokenness and incompleteness inside of him that he could not reconcile. The pieces also represent the trauma that his amnesia has caused him. Since the milkshake was on a low blend, the bonfire toffee pieces are mostly intact, and are pretty sharp and jagged. You'd probably have an unpleasant time consuming this milkshake but Siffrin would eat the sharp ass pieces of cookie indifferently because he needs therapy!!!!!

In keeping with the monochromatic colour scheme, we went for basic whipped cream. I used the Creameo topping for the drizzle, which as you can see, is unique because it is the only two-toned drizzle topping in the game! I was so happy to have a chance to use it today. Continuing with the black-and-white colour scheme, the drizzle also mimics Siffrin's hair. I also wanted to space the lines of the drizzle apart so as to look like jail bars, representing Siffrin's imprisonment in the time loop.

In the first shake, I used the pomegranate shaker topping, an oreo, and a cherry. The oreo represents their lost eye. I wanted to bring in some red elements in accordance with ISAT'S lore. In the second shake, I put some bananas in reference to the whole Siffrin dying via banana peel shenanigans, and some salt water taffy. I liked the hit of red in the taffy, and the spiraling shape of the taffy evokes cycles, repetition, and looping. I also wanted to include the taffy because it's playful and cute. Siffrin is a deeply tragic character in many ways, but they also have the capacity for so much love, levity, humor, joy and bravery. They deserve Sweet Treats and Candy...

Papa has not played ISAT but he did read the wiki and watch a let's play to make this shake. I want to play it for myself now! Thank you for introducing me to this cool game!

Love,

~Papa

[woradat]

Dear, memories

PT1(here) — next ->

SUMMARY - He didn’t think he’d ever see you again. You weren’t exactly sweet and kind to him—in fact, you were pretty much the emotional equivalent of a punch in the face. And yet... weirdly enough, he found it kind of refreshing

THEME - angst, drama, slow burn (I meant it)

PARING - tarn | damus/reader

Tarn has been many things in his long, dramatic, and very loud existence—power, leader, enforcer, Decepticon, devout fanatic. And yet, after all these millions of years, he still found himself... mildly surprised to run into you, of all bots, on some random dirtball of a planet his team landed on for snacks and a breather

To be fair, he hadn’t exactly expected to meet anyone from his old life. Especially not you

Mainly because most of the bots he used to know are very, very dead

And yet here you are, strolling back into his life like a ghost with attitude. Part of him—the twisted part that he usually tries to keep under wraps—wanted to wrap his fingers around your throat and see what kind of sounds you’d make. Would you beg? Plead for mercy? Or would you still be the same insufferable bastard, spitting in his face like the good old days?

Ah, memories

Back then, Damus was just a helpless little nobody—ostracized, bullied, shunned. And what did you call him again? Glitch. Charming, really. A nickname that reeked of mockery. But Damus couldn’t do much about it. The weak didn’t get a say. Or the strength to fight back

You both started off in Shockwave’s little institutional hellhole for rejects. Outcasts together, sure—but you made it very clear Damus was the bottom rung on your social ladder. And he accepted that. Reluctantly. If Mirage was prideful and smug, then you were a walking cautionary tale on what happens when arrogance gets drunk on its own ego

You were the emotional punching bag kind of bully—he was too sweet, too soft, too damned kind to stand up for himself. And that made him perfect for you

So at first, Tarn told himself it wasn’t you. Just a bot with a similar frame, similar paintjob. Surely the universe wouldn’t be that cruel

But the more he stared, the more time ticked by, the more sure he became. Oh yes. That was you

The asshole from the past

But Tarn is no longer Damus. He’s grown. Smarter. Wiser. He knows not to pick a fight over the ghosts of yesterday. Still, he couldn’t help but wonder—how’ve you been these past few million years?

Not out of concern. Please. Tarn's pretty sure concern was surgically removed from his emotional registry eons ago

.

.

Then the crash happened

Of course. What’s a scummy dive bar without a little chaos? There was yelling, clattering, and a full-on brawl because a fragile-looking blue bot had the misfortune of spilling someone’s drink

And of course it had to be that guy—the angry drunk with the loudest voice and the least self-awareness

He didn’t look like he was going to let it slide. And that’s when you stepped in

If Tarn had eyebrows, one would’ve shot straight off his face

You? Helping someone? Willingly?

“Act like that again and you won’t have hands left to swing,” you growled, twisting the drunk’s arm till he yelped like a malfunctioning servo

Rude. Violent. Effective

You de-escalated the situation—more or less—and the bar returned to its regular mix of chatter, laughter, and background noise. You got a few thank-yous. The drunk got a free lesson in not being a jerk. And Tarn?

Tarn was trying very hard not to stare

Spoiler alert: He failed

His red optics followed you like a stalker with a philosophical grudge. And eventually, he stood up and walked over

“May I sit here?” You didn’t answer. Just stared at him like he’d tracked mud onto your face. Charming, he thought (sarcastically) But he took the silence as a yes. He knows how to play this game

His giant frame folded awkwardly into the seat beside you, nearly breaking the poor thing in the process. It was almost funny. But no one laughed. Not with his reputation

“That was... brave of you, back there. Helping some random bot you don’t even know—”

“What the hell do you want?”

Ah. There it is. That sweet, nostalgic hostility

Tarn blinked, a little thrown. You always did have a gift for turning words into weapons. It worked back then, and it clearly still packed a punch

Damus would've flinched. Tarn? Not so much

“Relax,” he said, voice like steel wrapped in silk. “I was just appreciating your bravery. No one else in the bar was going to step in. Am I wrong?”

“No. Just a bunch of cowards. That bastard’s only talent was being loud and annoying. I did everyone a favor”

“Fascinating”

And he meant it

.

.

You were still all rough edges, sharp tongue, and zero tolerance. But you’d grown too. Matured, in your own, uh, special way. You’d learned things—just like he had. For him, it was strength. Purpose. Becoming everything Damus wasn’t allowed to be

And you?

He wasn’t sure yet. You were different, but still you

You helped the weak now, apparently. That was new. Tarn’s optics scanned your frame for any insignia—nothing. No Decepticon badge, no Autobot scrap. Nothing

Neutral, then? Disappointing

He would've bet his mask you’d be one of the first to dive headfirst into the war for the sheer drama of it all. Guess he didn’t know you as well as he thought

Then or now

And that made him... curious. Very curious about you

[pillsopa]

splatoon 1!!! you changed my life n I’ll miss you…there will always be a space in my heart for you

may your squid jump to the skies be a smooth one…��

[robotsafari]

redrawing my favorite gba chain of memories scenes with my own interpretations part 1(?):

“You’re thinking about me… You’re afraid of the darkness I command.” (NOT SHIP)

[the--highlanders]

what do you think jamie does after he's sent back to scotland without his memories?

i think he's always been torn between loving his home, the house he grew up in and the river he played in as a child and the hills he knows like the back of his hand, and yet still deeply longing to leave his little world behind, because he never quite fit right. (and he did! he got out!) but then suddenly he's right back there. he goes back to his childhood home but it's not home anymore and he doesn't know why.

so would he stay and try to fit again, even though he's grown out of his place there? or would he leave, and go looking for whatever had changed him?

YESSS I am so 100% on board with everything you said here. jamie really feels to me like he's someone who's so deeply rooted in his place and his culture, and yet someone who's been battling off this sense of isolation his whole life, and it's all tangled up and complicated inside him. in part he knows his home like the back of his hand /because/ he was somewhat isolated and spent a bunch of time wandering around on his own, and connects to his culture so much because he was chasing a sense of belonging. and on the other hand he had friends and was probably well-liked! but the isolation is still there. maybe even worse for the fact that he wasn't entirely alone.

I do think the crucial point to what jamie does when he's back in scotland is. why exactly he stepped on board the tardis in the first place. which is something I still don't feel like I've fully been able to express even after literal years of trying, maybe because it works best as an impulse borne of him having a deeply traumatic turned deeply strange day. I hc that while jamie's father, brother, and best friend have now died, his mother is still alive and at home, along with other relatives and much of the rest of his community. he /has somewhere to go back to/. he chooses not to go to france and to try his luck with making it home instead, and then all of a sudden he's stepping onto the tardis. sure, he's somewhat confused, and certainly doesn't know what's happening or that he won't be able to get back - but he does still go with them. in that moment, some part of him wanted /out/. going with people he knew to france didn't tempt him, but running off with basically total strangers did. he wanted an entirely fresh start, a blank slate.

on the flip side, the jamie who gets sent back after the war games is /different/, even subconsciously. somewhere buried in there is a person who's more mature, has had three more years of experience, has dealt with so much more and stepped up in ways he probably couldn't have dreamt of when he first left scotland. he's dropped back on drumossie moor, apparently in daylight, presumably with something implanted in his head telling him that the doctor and ben and polly left, he waved them off and turned towards home. so I think that's what he'd do - he'd go home, and try to pick up the pieces as best he could.

at this point, and as he realises more and more that something's /not right/ and he's missing something, I think his sense of isolation is worse than ever. he's so, so close to snapping. but his whole world is holding on by a thread, now - his own family has been decimated, many others are in the same position, they're close enough to culloden and inverness to be subject to a few reprisals and raids from the government - and oddly enough I think that holds him together. he steps up, because somewhere deep inside he knows how to do that now. he's grown up. maybe everyone else just puts it down to the war. it's not like they know any better. and if we know anything about jamie, it's that he can hold himself together if someone else needs him. is it good for him? certainly not. but he's hanging in there.

in my timeline for things he does settle down somewhat once he starts to regain his memories and understand what's happened to him. it /is/ just another thing that sets him apart, and that always hurts, but he's also more confident and understands more about himself than he did growing up, so it rattles him less. he's probably easy to talk to and go to with problems, and friendly enough that you never really realise he doesn't open up about himself. he grows into a bit of a leadership position in his village, and it's good for him, in a way. he's also his own person, not his father's son, and I think that's a sick sort of relief for him. marrying kirsty also helps, because she's a fellow misfit and a great friend, and someone who he can share the truth with. their 'more children than there are days of the week' are lost and orphaned kids they collect, because he's not going to let anyone else grow up alone. it's a weird sort of limbo where he's waiting for the doctor but also has no certainty that he'll ever see him again, where he's made a life he's proud of with people he loves and yet there's always parts of him that are desperately unhappy - but he's getting by. he's good. he's got good things that get him through.

if he /didn't/ get his memories back, though, if he was just caught in that confusion forever... that's where I could really see him leaving. at some point he /does/ snap, and he just. heads off on his own, looking for something he can't remember. it feels good, to always be on the road, maybe to help people where he can as he passes through. he's not tied to anyone, doesn't have to be who anyone else wants him to be, and there's freedom in that. but he always feels like he /shouldn't/ be alone in this, that he should be wandering with someone.

[yoroshiu]

Sora: Self-Esteem, Or Lack Thereof

I legit got struck with many thoughts when I woke up and decided to write an essay instead of going back to sleep. As in, this one's another long one ToT

Making Kingdom Hearts Stuff Until KH4 Comes Out (Day 13)

This is a topic that has been brought up a lot as of late but I found myself wanting to talk about it after reading some comments from some KH videos I was watching.

Specifically in Sora’s sacrifice scene in KH1 and his breakdown scene in KH3, it was interesting to see people say that they had just realized how low his self-esteem actually is, and I thought to myself, it must be interesting for them to look back and see how far back this feeling goes for him. I had my own thoughts as a result.

Sora grew up in Riku’s shadow. In the words of both of them, they agreed on the belief that Riku was the better one between them. It makes sense that Sora from the get-go had already taken blows to his self-confidence.

This is only added onto when it’s revealed that Sora was “just the delivery boy” for Riku, leading to the loss of the keyblade (which, for one, alongside the title of “Hero of the Keyblade” gave him a lot of confidence/assurance) and Donald and Goofy. This is a moment that stuck with him as shown in 358/2 Days is a memory that makes Roxas cry (in the same way seeing the Twilight Town trio made Sora cry). And while this is mostly supplemented by the manga/light novel adaptations mostly, Xion’s frustration in her encounter with Riku is reflective of that moment for Sora (especially in the manga).

In the perspective of the audience, Sora getting the keyblade back is a show of his own will and strength of heart. But in his eyes, since Donald and Goofy came back just a bit before, this is probably where the idea that his strength coming from his friends gets cemented. For him, the keyblade chooses him because he chooses to support others, which we will see rear its head in 3D.

One of the things that kept grabbing my attention when watching people play through 3D is when they get to the part where Sora says “I know the keyblade didn’t choose me, and I don’t care” because that ends up warranting confusion, and they usually say “but he was chosen though?” This is where that perspective thing shows up.

3D spent a notable amount of times mentioning how Sora isn’t the first choice. How the keyblade moved down the list (Riku to Sora), how the Organization moved down the list (Riku to Roxas to Sora). Xigbar even makes an attempt of mentioning such before Sora says the Thing. In Sora’s view, he wasn’t chosen for being special or having some kind of power but he was chosen because, in his eyes, his purpose is to help “those it [the keyblade] did choose.”

Even at his most confident (as he was on that KH2 victory high), he never viewed himself as “chosen” due to being worthy from his own merit.

And it doesn’t help that after 3D strips him of his power, he gets poked and prodded at for losing it. And that constant loss of power is something he’s aware of (“It’s always like this” line in Japanese). Others have mentioned it in other posts before, but Sora’s mistakes and failures weigh more heavily on his mind than the others who see his strength and victories over all else. Sora knows that he doesn’t understand everything and only does what he feels he can do in the situation for others. It’s kinda like everyone else sees him through these rose-tinted glasses (he gets through everything with a smile, he follows his heart /pos) but for him, he’s clawing through and following his heart /neg.

"It's okay, it's always like this."

This is all the buildup leading to his breakdown. It’s very in line with him, and it’s so fascinating seeing people realize that. Sora’s relationship with his self-esteem, alongside his trauma, are much more subtle arcs compared to other characters. It’s very much due to his style of coping being repression and smiling through everything until he can’t take it anymore.

This isn’t even taking into account other moments of his perspective like how he kinda blames himself for Donald and Goofy leaving him in KH1 (he puts it as “they had to leave” or that “they were separated” (in Japanese), never that they left or abandoned him. He usually doesn’t blame his friends if they’ve hurt him before. There’s even the tangentially connected topic of him being dehumanized.

Sora is both very straightforward and complex in his presentation and writing, just as his series is. His relationships with others are actually pretty complicated and are both the reasons for his strengths and his weaknesses (he and Riku alone are a whole doozy, being each others reasons for improvement but also their downfalls). Sora’s mental health is and will continue to be a topic of interest for me as we go into the next saga.

Someone please get him a nice hot cocoa and proper therapy…

[vaguely-concerned]

I don't know what I love more, the fact that as rook you can make a statement in NO uncertain terms that you are NOT responsible one way or the other for the theological implications of the shit you're discovering in the 'regrets of the dread wolf' memories. not my jurisdiction. quite simply none of my business. not my chantry circus not my chantry monkeys. irrelevant to the matter at hand here we'll kill that god if we get to him he can get in line. or if the best thing about it is seeing the lone little 'lucanis approves' that pops up right after choosing it. corvid with a knife about to commit deicide keeping it real and sensibly, pragmatically, wilfully agnostic with me here in this magical lighthouse today

[zaddyazula]

obviously i love strangelove’s character but she wasn’t written well… as a woman or as a lesbian…

[woradat]

Dear, memories #3

<- back — PT3 (here) — next ->

Tarn had always been the patient one. Patient to a fault, some might say. Even back in the good old days—if by “good” we mean “a flaming dumpster fire of verbal abuse and unchecked ego”—he kept his composure. You, meanwhile, were busy running your mouth like you were auditioning for “World’s Most Punchable Face” But now? Now Tarn doesn’t even get angry. He just… laughs

Because really, it’s hilarious how small you look from where he’s standing now—so far above the mess you’re still wading through

It’s funny how power changes the taste of old insults. Once upon a time, your words might’ve stung. Now they’re just noise. Background static. Like a mosquito trying to heckle a dragon. He knows what he’s capable of. He knows who he is. And unlike you, he’s not desperately clinging to a persona built on sarcasm and secondhand bravado. He doesn’t have to try anymore, he simply is the superior force in the room

Is this what you used to feel like? That smug sense of control, the power to bend the game to your will? If so, congrats. Tarn gets it now. And honestly? It’s intoxicating. Knowing he could end you right here and now—at the bar, no less, poetic as hell—and nobody would lift a finger. Maybe they’d even applaud. But no, that’d be too easy. Too quick. And Tarn? He’s not in the business of easy

No, he’s thinking long-term. Strategic. Because if he’s going to settle the score, he’s going to do it with flair. He’s going to make it art. Besides, the hit list has been thinning out lately—an occupational lull, really—so what better way to kill time than to toy with the past?

And look who stumbled back into his life like fate’s idea of a joke. You. At the perfect moment. The stars must really like him this week

How fortuitous - How gloriously convenient

They say revenge is a dish best served cold—but Tarn prefers his with garnish. Something theatrical. A little extra seasoning. After all, why just win when you can humiliate?

Now, he’s not saying he’s been lying in wait all this time like some cartoon villain with a tragic backstory and a monologue problem. He’s not that petty (Okay, maybe a little petty)

But still—just because this is coincidence doesn’t mean he’s not going to wring every drop of satisfaction out of it. You’ve practically handed him the opportunity on a silver platter, and it would be rude not to accept. Tarn's not just going to take advantage of this—he's going to enjoy it

Maybe a bit too much

Just imagining your expression when he makes his move—when you finally realize how much the tables have turned—makes him nearly giddy. Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. That would ruin the mystique. And if there’s one thing Tarn values more than revenge, it’s looking cool while exacting it

“Tarn! Are you even listening to me?”

“Hm? Sorry, Nickel. Mind repeating that?"

“Never mind. You wouldn’t do what I tell you anyway. You’re good to go”

“Much appreciated”

And with that, he strode out of the infirmary, unaware that he’d been spacing out. That kind of lapse was rare for him. He was usually razor-focused, disciplined, cold

But maybe—just maybe—he was looking forward to this little reunion more than he cared to admit

Can you blame him?

So many possibilities. So many delightful, calculated ways to turn the tables. Tarn liked to say he never took things personally when it came to work. But the truth? He was a masterclass in professional hypocrisy

Still, it’s like they always say: love what you do, or you’ll go mad

And Tarn? He’s thrilled

.

.

It had been hours since that loud, messy night at the bar — long enough for the artificial buzz to wear off and reality to hit you square in the face. And reality, in this case, meant dragging yourself back to the ship before your teammates found you and decided to haul your shiny ass back up themselves. The last thing you needed was to scratch the fresh coat of paint — the seventh this week — courtesy of their oh-so-gentle method of transportation

“Hey! One second later and we would've left without you, you know that?”

“Chill out. I was totally gonna hitch a ride on some random ship parked out back. You think I was gonna beg you? Please”

“Now that everyone’s here, can we not start a fight? Pack up. We're heading out soon”

Supreme Red’s calm voice cut through the snark like a soothing AI meditation loop. He was, without question, the most mature out of the three of you. No one really said it out loud, but you all silently accepted him as the unofficial captain — because, let’s face it, he had the emotional range of a functioning adult and the leadership skills of someone who'd survived multiple near-death space fiascos without screaming

Then there was Hardwire…

A walking headache with a mouth that could probably violate intergalactic decency laws. Half the time you couldn’t tell if she was quoting some ancient Earth drama or making it up just to sound cool. (Probably both.) Still, she was like the sibling you never asked for and definitely didn’t order, but somehow ended up stuck with. The universe had tossed you three together in its usual chaotic style, and weirdly enough, it worked

Hardwire had been pushing you to grow up from the moment you met her — mostly by being the most immature person you’d ever encountered. Her chaos taught you patience. Supreme Red, on the other hand, passed down actual knowledge — survival tips, repair hacks, and that unshakable cool in a crisis. He was kind of a legend, in your book. Not that you’d say that out loud. But yeah, you respected the guy. Which, for you, was saying a lot

Three bots. No backup. No reinforcements

But somehow, nothing felt missing. This was perfect

“The board’s actually fixed? I thought the whole thing got fried”

“Are your optics working or are you just pretending again? I fixed it. I’m a genius, in case you forgot”

“Oh wow, look at you. So smart, very humble” you rolled your eyes, your voice dripping with sarcasm. This was the usual dynamic — biting remarks, endless teasing, and enough banter to confuse anyone who didn’t know better. Outsiders might think you two hated each other. In truth, you were just… siblings in denial

“Too bad your frame didn’t grow to match your ego”

You added the jab with a smirk

“HEY!”

Supreme Red didn’t intervene this time. He just watched the exchange with a quiet smile, a glint of amusement in his optics. Maybe, just maybe, if this moment could last forever – it wouldn’t be such a bad thing

.

.

Fate operates in silence, cloaked in secrets no mind can predict

Five hours ago, the ship buzzed with life, laughter, casual banter, the soft humming of circuits and camaraderie. Now, it lies shattered and smoking on the surface of a nameless planet, twisted like a carcass devoured by unseen jaws

You were lucky to remain conscious. Or maybe that’s the curse. Disoriented and bleeding coolant, you dragged yourself through the mangled corridors, ducking under collapsed beams and searing sparks, eyes scanning through the black smoke for any signs of the other two bots. Maybe they were still alive. Maybe…

Then a scream

Not just any scream. Supreme Red. His voice - mechanical yet painfully tears through the wreckage like a razor across steel

You ran. Without thinking. Without breathing. Hope screamed louder in your mind than the fires did in your receivers

You turned a corner

— and the world stopped

It wasn’t silence. The fire still crackled. His scream still played. But time itself seemed to freeze, trapping you in the moment of horror that refused to pass

His optic just one hung loose from its socket, swinging slightly as if it, too, had tried to escape. The rest of his face had melted into the wall, metal fused with metal in a grotesque sculpture of agony. The scent hit you then — scorched alloy, burning insulation, and something else. Something organic. Sickly sweet and wrong. Your systems lurched; you nearly purged on the spot

energon: thick, bright, and slick – coated the floor in erratic patterns, sprayed from what was once his arm, now torn from the socket and left twitching, sparking weakly. And then the scream… that endless, awful scream kept going. Even as you stared into the hollow cavity where his throat should’ve been

It was a recording

His voice module had been torn open, left to loop the final cry. A cruel echo embedded in the ruin of your teammate’s body, still active, still screaming even though he was long past pain

Torn wires hung like veins from his chest. Shattered plates bent inward like broken ribs. Everything about the scene felt wrong, obscene — like you’d stepped into someone nightmare and couldn’t wake up

This wasn’t just an accident

Something.. someone did this

Your steps faltered, retreating instinctively in a futile attempt to distance yourself from the tragic spectacle before you, only to be met with a wall of presence as your back collided with someone standing behind. You must have been too consumed by the gravity of the moment to notice the silent approach of the enigmatic figure. Judging by the hand that now settled upon your shoulder - broad and firm enough to nearly envelop it entirely, they were clearly much larger than you

“Quite the sight, isn’t it? We’ve invested considerable effort in tracking him down. Remarkable, really… how fortuitous this moment is”

"I afraid I must ask you to accompany me aboard the ship, Y/N, for questioning regarding your involvement with and support of the former Decepticon, Supreme Red. He has forfeited his right to speak – but you still have the chance to prove your innocence. I urge you to cooperate for your own sake" His voice was soft, his words carefully chosen—elegant and melodious. Yet this bot wielded them in the worst possible moment. To mock? To assert dominance? Perhaps both

And to refuse…

would be to invite death

Or worse—something far more unforgiving than death could ever be

[dukeofthomas]

I will forever maintain that Jason would've been fine and Not a vigilante without Bruce making him Robin

[liquidchocolatecake]

currently captive audience to a knock down drag out fight in my brain between desire to respect the wishes of the creator and not look for anyone redistributing the comic and god i fucking miss wonderlab i miss wonderlab so much you have no idea i want wonderlab back so bad