#in one day. And in any case- i am one of my loved ones. and spending this night just by myself shouldn't be considered sad at all

[paraphwrites]

@carpediemma made a poll post about which characters would be who in an alice in wonderland au and none of the one's winning are the ones i want so i will now be justifying my thesis

alice - niko. above all else, alice must be curious and kind. she is also afraid, a lot, because she's in a wild new world - very similar of how niko is scared and in a new world (both ghost/supernatural, america, and a world without her father)

white rabbit - edwin. polite yet preoccupied, punctual yet anxious, obsessive yet unpredictable, always dressed smart... the similarities go on. and while i think some of their actions might not align entirely, i think there is a case to be made for edwin shewing someone along, insisting it must be done his own way

mad hatter - charles. playful, defiant to social norms, bit of an eccentric dress style! though charles is a bit less over the top, i feel that in the right environment, he could go totally mad. hatter has a lot of fun but there is this hint of despair to him which to me, entirely emulates charles

the dormouse - jenny. tired, confused, and underpaid, next question

the march hare - maxine. unpredictable, bizarre, reckless, excitable. not a huge character so not too much to go from but i see some loose similarities in the erratic nature - it's not that they're evil, it's that they're so invested in existence that they might stab you

please do not think of the implications of shipping the dormouse and the march hair i will not be held responsible for that

tweedledee and tweedledum - litty and kingham. petty?? childish?? looks similar??? guys come ON there is no more iconic duo in dbda! they're not very kind, they're not anti violence, they love attention- am i talking about the tweedles, or litty and kingham? you literally can't tell.

the caterpillar - tragic mick. appears when alice is uncertain and needs help, prompts her to reflect on her own identity. not particularly nice but is very helpful and kind, in his own way. calm, almost cryptic, slow manner of speech.

cheshire cat - the cat king. im not gonna explain this one

ok guys bare with me for the next two. they're kinda controversial. i could see them flipped and i did flip them many times but this is what i decided on

the duchess - esther. the duchess is abusive to her child (monty), but can be overly affectionate, as well. duchess is hella comedic in a dark way, she's got a fucked up relationship with power (duchess is a slave to the Queen, esther is a slave to the Snake), she's absurdly contradictory (like esther and her contradiction of wronging girls using lilith's gift)

the queen of hearts - the night nurse. the queen cannot see a way of life other than executions. i know she SEEMS hella emotional, but legit, i think it's more this desperate desire for feelings and sensations because she is so stuck in a loop of being listened to. the night nurse is similarly stuck in this loop of bureaucracy. neither are happy and neither have any true meaning to their lives. they both also seem to lack a nuance to empathy (nurse thinking ends justify the means so no need to feel guilty about the means, almost viewing finding the boys as a game in order to feel SOMETHING). neither would not survive a day in therapy

the king of hearts - kashi. foil to the queen of hearts, very minor character. gentle, soft spoken, trying his best, exists more in his own universe than anywhere else. the key difference is if they went to therapy, kashi's therapist would end up getting therapied, and king would just break down sobbing

the knave of hearts - monty. while if esther was the queen, maybe this would be more apt, but this is my analysis so i'll do what i want. the knave is a victim of absurd injustice, is somewhat sympathetic but ultimately a perpetuater of this same system. monty does the same thing with esther & her abuse. he is also young and handsome which, we've all seen joshua colley, i don't need to explain

the talking rose - crystal (with/pre-david.) haughty, mean, cruel, flirtatious. she's not a villain but she's definitely not on your side. she's critical, both of your looks, personality, and general vibe. but she's also just one of the many flowers, kind of how crystal was just one of the rich kids, not really doing all that much

in this version, i'd have when the flower's roots are freed be the same energy as the boy's getting rid of david. moment of self-transformation, free from curse. i will probably make a follow up post on how i'd do the plot, but i wanted to throw that bit on david out there.

[bitchslapblastoids]

thinking about the more cutting elements of the show... thinking about how they prod at the grotesquerie that is the youtube landscape now. something that was originally homespun and free and fun is now this soulless maw of manipulation and cynicism, and they're naming names.

thinking about the more cutting elements of their feedback for us; how the sweet homespun thing they birthed then morphed into something massive with its own acute levels of grotesquerie and horrors for the two of them. and how alongside all of the giddy love and joy and euphoria i've experienced these past couple of days, i have also been feeling some more complicated feelings. and i guess some of that may be shame, because for all the years i've loved them so, i was in the trenches participating in the retraumatization of dan (a word that kind of bowled me over to hear). and i sure as shit wasn't 12. i just fervidly wanted to know every damn thing i could. still do, i guess. tis my nature. but hearing dan describe him and phil as the internet's 'first true crime case' had me feeling quite specifically chastened. and sad.

because it is sad that their private world had all these porous slippery bits and all these intrusions and this panopticon around them and their every move, tracking every blush, every whisper of a mention of attraction to men, every possible slip-up, every morsel of their deeply personal love for one another. i imagine a feeling akin to a trapped animal. with helicopters overhead and a searchlight. and you don't know where the predator is or even if there is a predator at all or if you're the one who has done something wrong, all you know is you're trapped.

this isn't a mea culpa; i'm not looking for feedback or reassurances or anything. i really feel super duper okay about feeling this weirdness. i think it's probably good and healthy. i'm sure it's cathartic as hell for them to finally say all of this and point the finger at (some of) us. and we're moving on. they've moved on. i'm aware. and i don't think anyone else should feel any kind of way; i am not a proponent of shame. i'm sure you all know my entrenched live and let live approach to fandom, so it feels weird to make this post when i've railed so much against the phandom's guilt complex.

but i did just want to dog-ear this somewhere. that among all of the sappy giddy fluttery feelings, i'm also feeling some weirdness and some reflection. and that amidst all of the joy and hilarity, there was some heavy fucking shit in that show. and so it is odd to feel like i was in some small way a participant in the construction and reinforcement of some of that shit. i know this may all feel like..yeah...duh...rudimentary....and yes of course i've considered this all before, i am self aware, yes. but it's different hearing it so explicitly from them in the flesh, you know?

[shychick-52]

I was watching the og 80s Transformers show some days ago. And I got the hc that when Starscream has time, he likes to transform into his jet-mode and just fly for hours, just to clear his head when the pain and frustration of his life (how nobody takes him seriously or respects him, Megatron's abuse, etc) gets to be too much. Kind of like a person going for a long walk or drive to relax.

I hc that when in their transportation form, Transformers' thoughts are not quite as complex, another reason they're not as efficient as their robot forms. (I'm *not* saying they lose any of their sentience at all tho, I just imagine they don't have to use as much processing power). This makes it easier for them to have downtime and relax.

And I like to imagine that Starscream loves flying, as it's the only time that he feels free and at peace.

Honestly, I see this as the case for *all* versions of Screamer.

I am still VERY new to Transformers, and my wonderful friend @fantadym recently introduced me to the franchise and to Starscream; so, if there's anything inaccurate or stupid about what I said, please forgive me. Fanta is the biggest fan of Starscream there is, and she is truly awesome!! If you want to scream with somebody about Starscream, she is absolutely the one!

And please check out Fanta's incredible reblog of this post!!

[blue-eyed-beastie]

Oh my goodness! This is it!! Thank you for this!

I was able to find the original novel through Project Gutenberg. It's free to read on any web browser! Helpful hint: If you use Firefox, it gives you the option to translate it automatically (but with varied and sometimes hilarious results).

Anyway, as far as I can tell, the story is told through a series of letters. The excerpt from Belle's book is from a letter written by one Annette Bourdon to her friend Adelaide Fairlie, dated 19 September at Les Frênes (in case you want to look up the exact chapter, since they aren't numbered).

I won't include the entire translation, because it is quite long, but it's worth the read. By the way, I'm not at all disappointed that my earlier guesses about the context were wrong. I'm just thrilled that someone else knew what the excerpt was from so that I could read it in its entirety!

For those who don't have the time to read it right now, the summary of it is that Annette is discussing her engagement to Paul, and what has happened since, and how she feels about it. She also wonders what comes after marriage (and yes, she means the bedroom!):

There must be novels that talk about these situations, novels that I'm forbidden to read. As soon as I'm married, I'll read everything that's been forbidden to me; so I will be informed and I will know what I must do, in case of necessity. I am determined to be very good to my husband, but I would not want to cause anyone unnecessary pain. If someone courts me, I will be happy. I like to be looked at, and to be talked to. All alone, I get bored and sometimes I have done extravagances to attract attention. I told you about the one in the river, but it was my sister who had the idea. No matter, I see that the idea was not bad, because it is since that moment that Paul began to look at me with completely new eyes. As for me, if I saw a naked man swimming on the surface of the water, it would frighten me and I would start running. Men are braver; they are not even afraid at all. They both seemed ecstatic, and I almost laughed, which would have made me drink water and drown. What a pity, but what an opportunity for Paul to fish me out and hold me in his arms, like a languid siren!

Ah, the languid siren that was mentioned at the beginning of the excerpt! One translation suggested "mermaid", which I actually prefer in this context, since sirens tend to want to drown their victims. Mermaids, not so much! (See: The Little Mermaid, as a case in point.)

Now, I won't quote the entire excerpt again, but I did want to know what the very last fragmented sentence turned out to be, so I will include it below in its full context, plus a little more:

Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with large eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down beside me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have that desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul. It is very difficult to keep a man within the bounds of respect. He addressed me informally once; I did not like that. No one has ever addressed me as "tu" [you] except women. In the mouth of a man, this familiarity seemed unbearable to me. Nothing vulgar pleases me. A woman must be a queen to be completely a woman. This is the attitude I want to take from now on; even when I play hide-and-seek, people feel that I am a princess and they do not pull me carelessly by my crumpled dress. I turned eighteen the day before yesterday. At that age, one has a scepter or a fairy wand. When I laugh, there are eyes that are worried; and when I smile, people look at me to share in my smile.

The last of Annette's letter sees her looking forward to marriage, but wishing this feeling would last. She ends with this last romantic thought:

I feel that I am embarking on a long pleasure voyage. Everything laughs. Autumn itself is spring-like this year. There are languors of the month of May and freshness of new grass. One would say that it rains love every night…

While there are no sword fights or magic spells in this one, there seems to be plenty of romance, and that's all right with me. ❤️

A Closer Look at Belle's Book: Part II

In Part I, I went into some detail about the illustration inside Belle's book, but now I want to turn the page, so to speak.

Thanks to the magic of 4K, I was able to zoom in on some details in Beauty and the Beast that I had never noticed before, and this time I wanted to see what story Belle was reading. I've seen theories that it was either foreshadowing Aladdin or referencing Sleeping Beauty, and I myself noticed that it bears some artistic resemblance to Snow White... but it turns out that it has nothing to do with Disney, or its fairy tales.

It's something else entirely, and it's in French!

After zooming in and studying each frame, I managed to make out the following text:

une languissante sirene! Enfin, il sera bientôt heureux, si c'est là ce qui doit causer son bonheur. Je sais que je suis agréable à regarder, puisque j'y ai du plaisir moi-même, et de ce plaisir je ne priverai pas mon mari, au contraire. Je ne sais si je l'aimerai, je l'espère; mais je veux qu'il m'aime lui, et je ferai pour lui plaire tout ce qui lui plaira. Ah! chère Adélaïde, je suis pleine de rêves absurdes et de pensées contradictoires! Je songe à des choses qui me semblent à la fois douces et vilaines, et j'ai des imaginations qui me font rougir en même temps que pleurer! Au moins, je ne m'ennuie pas. Je vis plus en une heure de ces journées que l'an passé je ne vécus en toute l'année. Chaque heure me renouvelle, me grandit et m'épanouit. Je me semble un rosier qui fleur rirait à vue d’œil, je suis fraîche et parfumée; je suis légère et forte: j'attends le bonheur. Paul est plus beau que je ne l'avais encore jamais tu. Il est pâle avec de grands yeux pleins de fièvre et d'amour. Je le trouve sublime quand il s'agenouille près de moi pour me regarder comme en prière. J'ai envie de le prière aussi, parfois, et de coucher ma joue sur ses genoux, mais quand j'ai cette envie-la, je me fâché contre moi-meme et je boude Paul.

Which, roughly translated into English, means:

a languid siren! Finally, he will soon be happy, if that is what will make him happy. I know that I am pleasant to look at, since I take pleasure in it myself, and of this pleasure I will not deprive my husband, on the contrary. I do not know if I will love him, I hope so; but I want him to love me, and I will do whatever he pleases to please him. Ah! dear Adelaide, I am full of absurd dreams and contradictory thoughts! I think of things that seem to me both sweet and ugly, and I have fantasies that make me blush and cry at the same time! At least, I am not bored. I live more in one hour of these days than I lived in the whole year last year. Each hour renews me, makes me grow and blossom. I seem to myself a rosebush that blooms laughing before my eyes, I am fresh and fragrant; I am light and strong: I await happiness. Paul is more handsome than I have ever seen him before. He is pale with big eyes full of fever and love. I find him sublime when he kneels down next to me to look at me as if in prayer. I want to pray to him too, sometimes, and to lay my cheek on his knees, but when I have this desire, I get angry with myself and I sulk at Paul.

By the way, there is one more sentence (maybe even two) at the bottom of the page that is partially obscured by Belle's shoulder and right hand. It may or may not be important to the rest of the excerpt, but for completion's sake, I'll share it here:

Il est ... maintenir un homme dans les ...

Which translates to:

He is ... to keep a man in the ...

Intriguing, isn't it? What was she trying to say?

Overall, the author appears to be an unwed woman dreaming of her future marriage to a man named Paul. Her confidante is someone named Adelaide, but I suspect she is actually writing to herself. Regardless, she is either betrothed to Paul or she longs to be, since she calls him her husband. Perhaps it is an arranged marriage? She goes on to dwell upon his handsomeness, and how she longs to be close to him, but then she gets angry at herself for feeling this way. The last line of the passage is incomplete, but my best guess is that the author is saying that Paul is not to blame for her sulking, so it is not right to keep a man in the dark, i.e. ignorant. I could be wrong, though. In any case, she is conflicted about her feelings on the matter. You could even say that her feelings are "new, and a bit alarming".

I can see why the filmmakers chose this passage for Belle's book.

It may not be a fairy tale, but it certainly has elements from the film. There are references to beauty, roses, imagination, and eyes filled with love, and passion.

Belle:

"Oh, isn't this amazing? It's my favorite part because—you’ll see Here's where she meets Prince Charming But she won't discover that it's him 'til Chapter Three!"

Do the lyrics match the story hinted at on the page itself? No, but I really respect the filmmakers for going out of their way to include this kind of detail in the film. They could have taken the easy way out, by writing out something like "Once upon a time" to echo the opening narration, or used "Lorem ipsem" Latin filler, or even meaningless brush strokes just to fill the page... but they didn't. They chose something in French that Belle herself might have liked to read. And I think that's really cool.

[diamonddaze01]

[3:27 AM]

Pairing: lc x reader | wc: 1.1k au: criminal minds au | warnings: mentions of people getting hurt a/n: based on an ask from my 101 drabble prompt game! // surprise i have decided to turn this into a drabble series bc i love criminal minds and i love lee chan so it’s only natural

The insistent knocking at your door at 3 AM could only mean one thing: Lee Chan was about to ruin your night. Again.

You groaned, the harsh thumping reverberating through your bones. It was past 3 AM, and you had a flight to catch in a few hours for another high-risk case. The weight of exhaustion pressed heavily on your chest. You had been barely catching a few hours of sleep in between case files, strategy meetings, and debriefings. But of course, Chan—your insufferable, impossible rival at the BAU—had to make an appearance now, ruining whatever tiny shred of rest you could scrape together.

You briefly debated ignoring it—he’d leave if you waited long enough, right? But the knocking only grew louder, more demanding, until it felt like the walls themselves were shaking with the force of it. With a frustrated sigh, you shoved the blanket aside, letting the cold air of the apartment hit your skin as you dragged yourself out of bed. The room smelled faintly of coffee and stale paperwork, the remnants of a long day.

“God, I swear to God, if it’s another case…” you muttered under your breath, rubbing your tired eyes.

You swung the door open, barely suppressing the irritation that bubbled up in your chest. The sight of him, standing there in a BAU hoodie, his disheveled hair falling into his eyes, made your blood boil instantly. His hoodie smelled like his usual cologne mixed with the scent of a rushed flight—a mix of sweat and caffeine—and you realized, with a sinking feeling, he hadn’t even bothered to look presentable.

“What the hell, Chan?” you snapped, your words a little sharper than you intended, but you didn’t care. The exhaustion was wearing on your nerves.

He blinked, his wide eyes—normally so full of cocky arrogance—filled with something you couldn’t quite place. Worry? Guilt? His usual bravado was nowhere to be found.

“I... I needed to make sure you’re okay,” he said, his voice unusually low.

You blinked at him, confused, still half asleep. “What?”

His gaze flickered away for a moment, and you noticed the way his hand fidgeted with the edge of his hoodie. A nervous habit, something you’d never seen him do. "I had a nightmare,” he admitted, almost sheepishly.

“A nightmare?” Your brow furrowed. "And you thought waking me up at 3 AM was the best solution?”

He ran a hand through his hair, clearly frustrated with himself, his eyes shadowed by something darker than the fatigue you both shared. "It wasn’t just any nightmare." His voice cracked slightly, and for a second, you weren’t sure if he was going to continue.

But then he did, his gaze never leaving yours. “It was about you.”

You felt a chill run down your spine, despite the heat of the apartment. You tried to brush it off, but it was too late. His words lingered in the air, thick and heavy.

“Me?” you repeated, incredulous. "You had a nightmare... about me?"

Chan nodded once, his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets as if he was trying to hide from something you couldn’t quite understand. The cocky, competitive Chan you knew so well—the one who always put you in second place on every case, who made you fight tooth and nail to keep up with him—was suddenly nowhere to be found.

“Yeah. It felt... real,” he muttered, his gaze flickering away. “We were chasing that unsub last week in that warehouse, and you—you got hurt.” He paused, the words choking him slightly, and for the first time, you saw that the normally unflappable Chan had something real on his mind. “I couldn’t get to you in time. I couldn’t protect you.”

You froze. The air between you felt suddenly thick, charged with an emotion neither of you had ever voiced out loud. He was standing there, looking uncharacteristically vulnerable, and you—well, you weren’t sure how to respond. You opened your mouth to say something sharp, something biting, but nothing came out. Instead, you found yourself staring at him, not sure where to place the sudden tenderness you felt creeping up.

“Chan, this is insane.” You crossed your arms, though the action felt more like a defense than anything else. You couldn’t quite make sense of the situation. “We’re agents. We know the risks. This is what we signed up for.”

He shifted on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “But you’re not just anyone. You’ve had my back when no one else would. You think I’m just supposed to act like I don’t care?”

His eyes met yours, something raw and unspoken passing between the two of you. The usual banter, the sharp edge of competition, had dissolved into something... softer. You wanted to laugh at how ridiculous it all seemed, but you couldn’t. You felt your heart thud, unexpectedly heavy in your chest. You had spent years trying to keep things between the two of you cold, professional—just another rivalry between agents vying for the same promotions, for the same cases. But this? This felt different.

You swallowed hard, avoiding his gaze. “You’re an idiot, you know that, right?” you said, trying to sound like you normally did. But the words came out more strained than you intended. "I’m fine, Chan. I’ll always be fine."

He didn’t flinch, didn’t back away like you expected. Instead, he stepped closer, his gaze steady, unyielding. His presence in your apartment felt almost suffocating now, like the tension between you was finally breaking, like something had shifted—and you weren’t sure if you wanted it to.

“I don’t want to be just your rival anymore,” he muttered. “Not with you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You didn’t know how to process that. You wanted to argue, to shove him away and pretend nothing had changed. But you couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

“Well,” you began, the words coming out slowly, unsure, “I don’t need you to baby me.”

Chan’s lips quirked into a faint smile. “I’m not trying to.” His voice dropped even lower, almost a whisper now. “I’m trying to say that I care.”

You weren’t sure how long you stood there, in the dim light of your apartment, staring at the man who had been your rival for so long. The cold air from the hallway had long since seeped inside, but you were no longer cold.

Finally, you let out a sigh, stepping back, breaking the tension, just a little. “Fine. But only because you're annoying.”

He chuckled, the sound softer than usual, more genuine. “I’ll take it.”

You watched him stand there for a moment, before the gravity of it all hit you. Lee Chan—the arrogant, cocky agent who always outshone you in the field—had just shown up at your door at 3 AM, not with a case file or a new lead, but with something deeper, something raw. And maybe, just maybe, it was time you stopped pretending it didn’t matter.

send me an ask for my drabble game!

[thefusioncelestial]

Mix 10: We Only need One Prince & One Kingdom

For the last one thousand years, two neighboring kingdoms have been in some form of conflict or another.

Recently they achieved peace. A weak peace.

With the wisdom borne from two kings, they formed a peace treaty via a marriage contract. A daughter to a son. The son would inherit the daughter's kingdom and unite the warring nations.

There is a problem. Both kings had sons.

Here is one half of that problem:

Prince Admir.

Everyone wants him. In normal circumstances, he would be considered a great boon to a kingdom. In this male dominated world, a male prince is always a good thing. But not in this case.

He was supposed to be female. A princess. The snake in his pants meant that war could be coming. His father is trying to get the nations to wait one more generation, but it is clear to everyone that he & the other king will fail. Even to this famously shy prince.

In the meantime he does whatever he needs to do to play the part: be athletic, sociable, dutiful, and now play the marriage game. He gets a marriage proposal from every noble & aristocratic family every month. He turns them down.

He has to pick the right marriage.

The wrong one could cause a province to revolt. It could lead to assassination attempts. There were other royal lines within his family who would love to take his place.

He needed to clear his mind. He needed speak with the other prince; his best friend.

And he got that opportunity. An secret invite reached him via the royal guard, and he wanted to meet Admir at a beach on neutral ground. It also said that he had a long term solution.

He could use any of the modern transportation methods to get there, but they were electronic & detectable. Too many people would follow. If either prince got hurt, it was war then & there.

He went by horse.

A one hour trip by train took three days by horse.

It was a serene beach. Blue sky, clear water, and light caramel brown sand. He spotted a cottage & a horse tied to it.

A white Saludorian Stallion. My friend, no practically my brother's horse he thought. He had very fine tastes. That breed was imported. One costs one village's tax revenue for a year.

Worth every penny.

Within minutes, he tied his own horse to a post next the other prince's.

The other prince came out and with a sword. He thought he was followed, or that some neighboring country wanted him dead. Many nations would benefit if he got hurt and from the ensuing war.

Or someone wanted to move up the line.

Once he saw that it was Admir, he dropped his blade. His tense look went a away. His muscles relaxed. A very slight smile ran across his face.

Admir noticed it. Prince Kazahad was naked.

He left his eyes open, but blushed. Had fate been kinder, he would be seeing and feeling that wonderful body as his wife.

"Brazen as usual," Admir said.

"I am in the company of my best friend, and why should I deny what I am," Kazahad responded.

"A little decorum goes a long way," Admir said.

But before he could continue, Kazahad was already in the throes of taking Admir's clothes off.

"Let's enjoy each other as we naturally are, one last time," he said.

Admir & Kazahad were secretly dating. Had either of them been a lady, they would be able to do it more openly.

Since puberty had hit them and left 5 years ago, they came to know and like each other. But two rods can't further the line. They can't be married. In the old days of such parings, the married couple each would have their own harem.

But harem politics is nasty. Every mother wants the throne for their son or daughter. Much bloodshed.

And trust it all that the two princes have read & tried nearly everything to get each other pregnant. If one of them could get a baby bump, they could marry each other and unite their kingdoms. But fate says no.

"What do you mean last time, found a marriage partner, who is the lucky princess," Admir asked.

Kazahad went back in the sea cottage. There was rumbling. Admir was piqued, but he stayed outside. He watched the area to make sure he wasn't followed.

Kazahad came back out with a scroll. A really old one. The decayed and flayed edges giving hints to some of what the scroll went through to survive to today and be beheld by his eyes.

"Mir, you know that both our kingdoms have been around for over five thousands years. That's a long time-,"

"Long enough to live through the mysticism of the old eras, see the transition into a more logical one, and benefit from age of scientific reasoning, " Admir finished for him.

Admir was known to be a shy prince, but Kazahad an affect on him. He found his courage whenever Kazahad was near. Kazahad lowkey wished he knew the shy Admir. He didn't even look away when he came out in the buff. But he loved confident Admir more. Especially with what he was about to do to both of them.

"The modern era has no answers for us. Straight up gender swapping is still in its infancy when it comes to making families. In our positions, adoption is a no starter, and royal surrogacy would see our systems abolished after the reforms five hundred years ago ended the Harem system," Kazahad continued.

"So I went into the royal library, very deep too. Five thousand years of storing knowledge means very extensive tunnels. Anyway, the answer is a form of time manipulation," he finished.

"So what, you want to grandfather paradox our kingdoms," Admir asked.

"No, I want to merge us into one. One prince. We are both heirs to our kingdoms. If we become one, our timelines become one. Perhaps our kingdoms as well. If I read right," Kazahad finished.

Admir closed his eyes a little. He has seen magic performed. He still preferred science though, Kazahad was all about the magic. This reflected in their kingdoms too. One drenched in technology, the other magic. Kazahad was the most powerful mage in his kingdom. He practiced the sword too. He was a noted battle mage. But Admir was better on the front. Better with the physical arts, worse on the magical. A Magic Warrior.

Kazahad put the scroll down and quickly scooped Admir in his arms.

He whispered in Admir's ear: "Come one let's do this."

Admir loved that about Kazahad, he went for what he wanted. It also meant he sometimes acted before thinking. He mastered teleportation for a reason.

Admir got out of Kazahad embrace. He looked miffed. He turned around and looked out into the area. The sea breeze and the smell of saltwater was calming.

"What happens to our minds, who is operating this new us," Admir asked.

"Both of us and neither of us. We will become a new being, a new persona. Everything we do, we do as one," Kazahad answered. He was scared that Admir was going to say no. He was asking Admir to give up his individuality for their kingdoms. To be joined and mixed up with a another person.

"Is it permanent," Admir asked.

"Yes."

"..."

"..."

For his people. He was raised to be self sacrificing for his people. If this is what he had to do to obtain longer lasting peace, to not push the problems of the past to the next generation, his prospective kids & grand kids, he must do this.

Sigh.

"Ok," Admir responded.

Kazahad was elated. He wanted to jump up and down like an 8 year old girl, but he too understood what they were giving up. But oh, what they would be gaining. Kazahad was excited with the idea of join his existence to Admir's. His body showed it as well. Admir looked over and saw the rod reacted in agreement. He blushed again. He was joining with this oversized knuckle head.

Kazahad got the scroll and some belongings and took Admir to the beach. Before long, Admir realized what he was doing. A picnic. One final picnic before they tie the knot. Romantic.

They finished their last lunch together as individuals, and cleaned up the area. After digestion, the bathroom, and wash up, they were both back on the beach.

Kazahad unfurled the scroll and began drawing a large design in the sand.

"While I finish making this, take it all off. I am not going to become part cotton," he said.

Admir agreed. He then sat next to the symbol and waited. He looked out at the beach one final time as himself. He took a deep breath.

It was done. Admir couldn't make out heads or tails save a large featureless circle in the middle.

"We sit or stand in the middle there. I pour my mana into the circle, and boom: super hot mega prince," Kazahad was beaming.

"How do you know that this new prince is going to be hot, we could just turn into a blobby monster," Admir joked.

"Haha, get over here," Kazahad said.

"Such a rush to join with me," Admir responded.

"Who wouldn't want to," Kazahad said.

Admir blushed for the final time.

They were soon in the middle of the circle. Admir was careful to not smudge the lines. Kazahad poured his mana into them. They glowed green & blue. The color of their princely auras.

Then both princes went limp. They fell to the ground, the circle expanded to not have them fall out of it. They were both in an sleeping position.

Both princes began to melt. They were now two puddles with the color of their skin next to each other. They then swirled around each other and mixed. The merged puddle stopped moving.

Inside this puddle was the sum of their merged mass. The dna of the two princes merged, but in a rare occurrence, became a quad helix dna structure. Nothing of each other on that level would be abandoned. Once the new structure was done making itself, it fired off.

The puddle began to move again in response to the new genetic instructions. Starting from the head first, a body began to form. It was as if someone was floating out of a deep pool. And as more of the body came out, the puddle shrank as well.

There was a featureless humanoid where the princes once stood.

The dna fired off again.

The initial body was lanky, the features small. There was a series of pops. He let out a low "uhhh". His chest, shoulders, neck, arms and legs suddenly exploded with muscle. It was clear that this was Kazahad's doing. He was the bigger of the two.

"ah"

His hands & feet followed, they grew to meet all of that muscle. More ligaments came as well. You could hear a snaps as they connected his limbs.

"mmm"

His stomach expanded to be like Kazahad's but Admir took the reigns, the skin tightened around his stomach area. He had Admir's abdominal insertions, but Kazahad's abdominal size.

"ngh"

Admir & Kazahad were sitting on a beach. The same beach cottage nearby. They knew this was it. The final step. They were next to each other. All they had to do was join hands. Admir hesitated at first. No more him, but what he would become, this new journey he would share it with Kazahad, his love.

He took the initiative and grabbed Kazahad's hand first. Kazahad blushed this time. He finally did it, he made Kazahad blush instead. Kazahad let out a sigh of content. They both looked at as sea. This was this new prince's inner mental world, his subconsciousness. His two halves would live in blissful harmony, within him.

The face began to change. He had a mixture of the two prince's hair & skull shapes. Kazahad's style with Admir's volume. The ears were Kazahad's. The nose Admir's. The eyes & mouth were a mixture of the two. The eyebrows as well.

Admir's skin tone won out.

The new prince opened his eyes to the waking world. He was Prince Ehsan.

There was a bag of clothes next to him, he a got a shirt and a towel before he noticed the surrounding area:

The beach had a city on its shores. And there were people gawking at him. Some giggling too. He was naked. He facepalmed himself, Admir's side, and ran to the still existing cottage. It was too late.

News of the prince going naked at the beach hit the news. Again. Lots of comments from admirers. The negative ones wanted his work out & diet secrets.

The two kingdoms merged as well. A kingdom of science & a kingdom of magic became a kingdom of alchemy.

Ehsan was one of the best alchemists as well. Some attributed this to his intelligence, some to his habit of going full in on experiment without crossing all of the t's & dotting all of the I's, and lucking out 90% of the time. Kazahad was smiling from deep inside Ehsad.

In this new timeline, the kingdoms merged five hundred years ago. Finding a balance between magic & science has led it to becoming one of the most advanced civilizations in history.

While Ehsan ensured peace for the two kingdoms he would call home when he was two people, these two kingdoms, now one, were not the only nations out there. However, he was happy as he was, and didn't want to go about absorbing other princes. His better understanding of this merger method and time meant that he could risk unraveling time & reality.

He put some clothes back on, and went to the internationally famed academy. It was the final stop to becoming a mage, warrior, alchemist, scientist & everything between and out within his kindgom. His people's university. He was a professor there. It was time time scout out talent and create his own royal squad.

The dragons are going to quake in their scaly boots.

[hydrangeapartridge]

The Last Day of a Condemned Woman (Veilguard Female Rook/Emmrich)

Beware spoilers for Emmrich's quest line.

Okay so I wrote a little something thinking about the day Johanna would receive her punishment and Emmrich and Rook would have to say goodbye to her. Set after the events of the game.

It's a bit sad but also domestic Rook and Emmrich!

Enjoy!

«Darling, have you seen my collar pin ? » Emmrich’s strained voice was heard from the bedroom, distant noises of his shuffling around reaching Rook’s ears.

« I believe it would be in the box where you always put it away, on the nighstand ? » She replied from the living room.

« I already searched there an it wasn- » Emmrich started before he interrupted himself, then grumbled something intelligible. « Nevermind, I found it ! » He told her from afar.

Rook chuckled to herself. Emmrich was obviously stressed. It was unusual for him to misplace his belongings. He was a very organized and tidy man ; except for the eventual stray papers and books that could litter his desk when he was really engrossed in his studies. So much so that when Rook moved in with him, she didn’t quite feel at home in the space that he had inhabited alone for years. But that was ancient history. Now his cosy but spacious residence in Nevarra was their home. And Manfred’s of course.

Emmrich was stressed but he had reasons to be. Today was a big day.

« Urgh, now he has memory impairement.. I cannot fathom how you decided to attach yourself to that senile sentimental you call ‘husband’ » Johanna’s voice echoed from her skull under the glass container that Rook carried her in.

Husband. That notion was familiar too now. It had been a few years already since Rook and Emmrich exchanged vows, first alone in the intimacyof the Necropolis’ garden where they first kissed, with Shroud’s Kiss flowers in her hands and hair, and then in style with the people they loved in the beautiful scenary of her native Arlathann.

Rook sighed at Johanna’s usual bickering but didn’t grace her with a reply. That onlt served to irritate the undead more.

« I heard you again last night you know ! How that decrepit weakling can go at it like that without breaking his osteoporotic bones is beyond me ! »

It wasn’t the first time Johanna said something crass of the sort, yet Rook still blushed, remembering the events of the previous night. What started with her gently holding her troubled husband turned into less chaste activities to keep his mind off things when he got frustrated that he couldn’t find sleep.

It was a delightfuly tender moment, and a good way to then spend a good night. But Rook didn’t really want to share that with a half-liche power hungry necromancer.

« Jealous Johanna ? » Rook grinned, regaining her composure and usual cockiness. « You won’t be getting any anytime soon I fear »

Johanna only huffed indignantly.

After a beat of silence, Rook asked more gently. « So, ready for the big day ? »

« You mean the day I finally get to leave that sickenly sweet home of yours ? » Johanna scoffed again.

Rook was used to her antics, that old lady didn’t know how to express herself in any other way.

« At least my ordeal will end there » Johanna dramatically added.

Those Necromancers really had a thing for the dramatic.

The corners of Rook’s lips turned down. « It would be okay to be afraid you know » She said, lower this time.

« Afraid ?! Me ?! » Johanna of course was offended. « Unlike Volkarin I am not a coward »

She paused and the silence felt heavy in the room.

« I’ll face whatever will come, like I did everything else »  Her voice came from the skull, quieter this time.

Rook’s fingers ran over the glass of Johanna’s highly warded prison, almost synmpathetically. After a long trial, as well as years of researches and discussions, the Liche Masters of the Mourn Watch adjudicated the case of Johanna Hezenkoss, as well as the punishment for her crimes. And the day of judgement was this very one.

After a ritual in which Emmrich was to participate, Johanna’s soul would be cut from any contact with the fade, and then, all maimed and powerless, would be imprisonned in a forgotten dark corner of the Necropolis, guarded by spirits and warded by the most powerful of spells, for eternity. As a mage, Rook likened her fate to being made Tranquil. A fate worse than death, and a life of suffering for a soul that wouldn’t be complete anymore. It was a fate she wouldn’t have wished upon even such an ennemy.

Dear Emmrich in all his kindness and idealism voted against that cruel punishment, but he sadly wasn’t part of the decisive majority.

« I’ll miss you Johanna » Rook half jested half confessed.

All these years they had kept her, for it was Emmrich’s duty to watch her. When they could have put her away in an abandonned room, they chose to keep her in Emmrich’s study. Guarding her was a duty he took very seriously (like he always did with work), and which also allowed him to regularly converse with an old friend (on the rare occasions where said friend was in a good enough mood not to insult him). Johanna had been part of their lives since the Veilguard, and seeing her go was like turning a page over years of their shared lives.

If Rook felt nostalgic, she couldn’t begin to picture how Emmrich felt on this day. Given how long he took to get dressed, it must have been worse than she thought.

« Of course you’ll miss me » Johanna retorted « I’m the only interesting person in this house ! »

Rook didn’t pay attention to her and asked Manfred to go check on Emmrich.

- - -

If the Necropolis could sometimes feel warm, intimate and inviting, the room where they stood felt as cold as ice.

Emmrich stood before Rook in his elegant gold and black ceremony attire. The wrinkles at the corner of his eyes and of his lips were deeper than when they met, from age and from smiling so much since then. There was more white now than grey in his hair, but he still looked most dashing of all the necromancers present. However Rook could tell his posture was stiff and his shoulders tensed when he carefully took the glass container that held Johanna’s skull in his gloved hands.

« Thank you for accompanying me today darling » He whispered as not to disturb the ambiant calm.

« Of course. Wouldn’t want to miss Johanna’s retirement party » She joked to try and alleviate the heavy tension in the air.

« You know you won’t be able to attend dearest »Emmrich seriously replied. She knew that, he already told her so, but she let it slide. « And it’s best you don’t. The ritual might be… difficult to handle for unprepared souls»

Emmrich was frowning and Rook knew he wasn’t eager to participate in the curse Johanna would be put under. She wished she could support him further. She placed one hand over his and squeezed gently ; she couldn’t do much more.

« Let us get this over with » Vorgoth’s voice echoed behind them.

Emmrich let out a deep sigh and gave Rook an admitedly melancholic smile. « See you soon darling »

Rook waved and let out a casual « Bye Johanna » trying not to let emotion fill her. Her goodbye got no answer.

Manfred stepped beside her and watched Emmrich walk to the other necromancers, observing, curious as ever.

« Sad ? » He asked.

He kept surprising Rook everyday with how much he improved in magic, language, and these days even grasping human emotions, trying to understand them in his own way.

« Yeah. Saying goodbye is always a bit sad »

Manfred nodded with a contemplative whistling sound.

- - -

The group of mages performing the ritual was already in place. All Emmrich had to do now was open the large ornated doors of the grand auditorium and join them. This would be over soon and he would go back home with Rook and Manfred and forget about the horror of it all.

Taking another slow shaky breath to calm his nerves, he went for the door handle when a short call of « Volkarin ! » stopped him, making him jump in surprise.

He eyed down Johanna’s skull, blinking twice then clearing his throat to regain his composure. « What is it Johanna? Last words or requests maybe ? » He asked kindly, ready to listen to her like he would anyone on the verge of dying. She did terrible things in the past, but he still made it a point to respect the final wishes of a sentenced soul.

Johanna didn’t answer immediately, and Emmrich started wondering if she was stalling. But then her voice came out, low and softer, just how he remembered it from their shared years as students.

« Will you be there until the end of the ritual ? »

Emmrich’s gaze softened « I will » He promised.

A beat of silence. Then a voice from inside urging him.

« Be more strict with the wayward company you dare call a family would you ? » Johanna said when he reached for the door again. He stopped but before he could retort, she whispered her last words.

«  Live long, and live well, you impossible man »

- - -

Rook was tapping her foot nervously when the large doors of the auditorium finally opened. Waiting for Emmrich had felt like an eternity. She kept worrying something would go wrong. Johanna was full of surprises, and it wouldn’t have been past her to try and get out of her sentence with a few dirty tricks. She was relieved to see only calm necromancers exit the room, unharmed. Everything seemed to have gone right.

Now to see in what state of sorrow she would get her soft husband back.

Emmrich was the last to exit, stepping away from the group carrying the funeral urn in which the remains of what once was Johanna were trapped. He didn’t spare a word to anyone and rushed to rejoin with Rook. He stopped before her, looking down, inhaling deeply before he straightened up, repositionning his already perfectly adjusted collar.

« It is done » He told her, nodding his head solemnly.

When he looked up to meet Rook’s eyes, she saw how misty his warm brown gaze was. She tenderly raised a hand to cradle his cheek and gently wipped an unshed tear from the corner of his eye.

Emmrich leaned into the touch for a short moment of indulgence, then sniffed and cleared his throat, stepping back. « The ritual was messy ; old books, bones, dust everywhere... » He mumbled, keeping his crying in check with a rub of his gloved thumb under each eye. Of course he would blame it on allergies. He probably didn’t want the others to see how affected he was.

Watchers were supposed to be at peace with loss and accept it with detachment. Emmrich’s tender heart never quite achieved that, but to Rook, it only made him more human and more lovable.

Rook took his hand and slowly traced his pulsepoint with her thumb. « My dear husband, the love in your heart overflows it seems. » She smiled just for him. « Let’s get you home to a nice warm cup of tea »

« Home ! » Manfred chirped in, excited. « Tea and biscuits ! » He raised his arms in the air. « With sugar ! » He then added, mimicking the sugar clamp he loved so much with his hand. The spirit’s show of enthusiasm made Emmrich chuckle, the sound still a bit wet from his tears.

« Yes my dears. Let us go home »

[theworldoffostering]

This is your friendly political reminder:

1. We have a child who immigrated to the United States. It was difficult to do so, and my guess is those of you referring to people as “illegals,” don’t have a very good understanding of the cost or the process. Additionally, there seems to be a severe lack of compassion and understanding that human beings are human, and we are called to love one another. People are suffering all over the world. Jesus did not call you to “take care of your own.”

2. We have three children in the local school district with IEPs. I’ve spent most of the fall vigorously advocating that they get what they need WITH their IEPs in place. Those of you looking to see the Department of Education dismantled might be lucky enough to not need any of the safeguards that we need in order to ensure that our children can learn. Five of our kids went to HeadStart. One is currently receiving a Pell Grant for college. Please step in alongside me to attend IEP meetings, drive my children to school to receive services (today alone I will do 12 pick up/drop offs at four different schools), or offer private tutoring in the form of specially designed instruction, tutoring, or OT, all of which are needed.

3. Five of our children came to us through adoption. Being anti-abortion while trying to strip away all of the things our kids and family needs in order to stay afloat with our children that are very much alive, but need additional help in various areas (like healthcare and education) is inconsistent at best. Please volunteer to help me out at home. Many people are single issue voters, but are not actually taking kids into their home that survived birth, but don’t have a home in the world. We are managing mental health diagnoses, former police contact (monthly at one point), a prior CPS investigation (now closed), complex medication management, attachment trauma, the inability to spend time together as a couple, and so much community judgement. It’s hurtful. I am an all-in parent, but it’s impossible to do alone.

4. All seven of our kids have utilized state insurance, and currently six of them have it. It sure saved us financially when we had a child that needed to be life flighted to a hospital with a fractured skull and brain bleed. It has also allowed for countless in-patient stays for mental health.

5. Being a foster parent for 16 years has unfortunately provided me with an up close seat to see the impact of sexual abuse on children and teens, some of whom are now adults. Sexual assault is never okay. Being willing to overlook sexual assault as a means to justify the end, is also not okay. Ever.

Policies have real impact on real people. This fall has been one of the hardest yet for me as I work to meet everyone’s needs both personally and professionally. Our family is already isolated as is often the case when trying to walk through life against the grain. Last fall a local family (a mom in her 40s) told one of our older daughters that their entire church here in town hated me, and that I needed professional help. (You may report back that I do have a therapist because anyone processing this much secondary trauma over 15 years needs one.) This is awfully difficult stuff to endure in a small town both as an adult, and a child, and yet endure we must, because there is no other choice.

Hate breeds hate. Please choose differently. We are just trying to survive in our small corner of the world here. It’s already incredibly challenging, and would be less so by having people to circle around us to support us, love us, and encourage us. At the end of the day, isn’t that what most people need?

[justwater4meeeeeee]

hit there, im relatively new to , to @na and eveyrthing, but I'm trying to hard, I hate my fat ass body so much, but it's like I keep giving in to these little meals, then they become big ones, and then I'm like, "it's OK I'll start tmrw." I feel so disgusting right now and so fat, like I'll never be skinny. Do you have any tips to stop that, I want to lose like 10 kg before the 19th of December because I'm flying home and want to surprise my family with how skinny I am.

Thank you so much

Hii, haha love your username. Stop buying food that you tend to binge on, if you don’t have any food that is high calorie in your pantry worst case scenario you’ll eat lots of low calorie foods and still will be lower calorie intake than what could be 2k+

I would highly recommend that at least try to get into a workout routine and add some intermittent fasting into your diet, And don’t forget the water<3

Consume as much Ed content related, that way you can unconsciously focus into doing better every single day <3

[bunnyboy-juice]

NO MORE ASSOCIATING THINGS WITH FEMMES ONLY BECAUSE THEY ARE PINK!HYPERFEM FEMMES ARE GREAT AND I LOVE YOU CAMPY FEMMES WHO EMBODY PINK BUT ALSO JESUS CHRIST CAN YOU GUYS NOT GO MORE THAN ONE DAY W/O TRYING TO SHOEHORN FEMMES INTO BEING ONLY PINK UWU BABIES. I AM FEMME AS IN GRASS AS IN DIRT AS IN TREE BARK AS IN WEEDS SPROUTING THROUGH THE SIDEWALK CEMENT. FEMME AS IN GENDER NONCONFORMITY AS IN FUCK YOU MY FEMININITY IS WHAT *I* SAY IT IS. FEMME AS IN DEPTH AND DARKNESS AND WARMTH AND TERROR. FEMME AS IN CAVES. FEMME AS IN LIGHTNING. FEMME AS IN AN AMALGAMATION OF TRAITS THAT I HAVE DECIDED ARE FEMININE REGARDLESS OF WHAT SOCIETY SAYS. FUCK IS IT THAT HARD TO UNDERSTAND?!???

[icewindandboringhorror]

I have a big google doc thing where I keep track of media and stuff (putting everything in loosely ranked categories), which is mostly just for my own reference so I know what tv shows I've already seen before, etc. and I never really look back through it, typically just a quick "okay, watched two movie in the past 8 months, need to quickly slap them somewhere in the lists. okay. done. save document. exit". But today I was actually reading through some of the old notes and there are like... MULTIPLE places where my comment is basically "It would have been good if it were about elves" or "I wish there was a fantasy show made in this same style" or "It's well made, but I just keep thinking about how I would like it more if everyone was an elf or was in old 1700s costumes" or etc like...... lol.... Most biased media ranking system on earth blatantly made by someone with an extremely hyperspecific range of narrow interests. It'd be like if a food reviewer only had 5 foods they actually liked, so they'd just go to a pizza place and be like "eh, the pizza was okay, but I just think it would be better if it was cereal instead. :/ ...2 out of 10"

[magentagalaxies]

one of the absolute funniest moments on scott's tour that i wasn't able to capture on camera (for obvious reasons) was at the meet and greet after the nashville show these two older gay guys mentioned they were reading scott's wikipedia page before the show to find out more to chat about at the meet and greet and like. idk if this is just because i am very familiar with scott's wikipedia page but you could tell that was the extent of their scott knowledge (which is valid not everyone is researching a documentary on the guy)

but then they asked about the poster for the lowest show, which they'd never heard of before their wikipedia reading, specifically this quote:

"The posters—featuring Thompson lying supine on the ground with a big wad of semen dripping down the side of his face—went up around the city on September 10, 2001"

and they were like "wow we'd love to see those posters hahaha" and i immediately jump in like "oh i have that photo on my phone give me like 2 seconds"

to be clear: these guys had not interacted with me or acknowledged my existence the entire conversation. they had their backs to me when they were talking to scott, i did not introduce myself as directing the documentary since i wasn't filming and they didn't ask who i am, etc. but my brain was like "oh someone wants to learn more about scott? my time to shine, let me pull up that folder in my camera roll". even scott was like jfc here they go again.

anyway i barely had to scroll back in my doc research folder so i immediately held out my phone to the guys and showed them this

it's a photo taken days after 9/11 of scott in front of the posters for his show which was supposed to open the following week

so i hold out my phone and explain this thinking like hey i'm being so helpful these guys wanted to see this aspect of scott lore and i gave it to them!! meanwhile these two old guys are like i can't even focus on the poster anymore i am standing next to scott thompson and also WHO THE FUCK IS THIS CHILD AND WHY DID THEY JUST HAVE THIS ON THEIR PHONE?

another one of the funniest tour moments was after meeting up with some gay guys in their 70s who were friends-of-a-friend-of-scott and immediately befriending both of them we were about to leave and i asked for their phone number and scott just rolled his eyes and was like i'll give you his phone number in the car as though he was saying "jfc jessamine this is ridiculous even for you". he never ended up giving me the old guy's number

[seagull-scribbles]

Some requests of the Mutant variety⚠️

Also, with this post we have hit a milestone :)

[elegyofthemoon]

can someone remind me to write up my thoughts about gallagher and the enigmata later or at least compile them somewhere i want to share it but also my Goodness i am sleepy as heck today and i have work tonight 😔

[scamera-writes]

Her. An Essay.

The spring air lies heavy in your lungs as you breathe in deeply, the bright smells assault your nose and waves of nostalgia roll off the hills. You know this is her favorite season so you’ve dressed prepared for the chill in the air.

It's a long walk to the meadow with a shovel in hand and wheelbarrow pushed in front of you, but you do it. When you get there, a girl smiles up at you from where she is playing in the grass.

You know her age, but do not say it. You know her name, but do not say it. You know her, but do not say it.

She says hello in that sweet mellow tone that sounds so foreign yet so similar and tastes like syrup on your tongue. Her eyes are wide and shining, but blissfully not tear stained- like your own- and her cheeks are round with a warm flush as her smile softens.

You do not meet her eyes, those same beautifully colored eyes that match yours, searching for a hint as to what you’re doing here. You gaze across the meadow instead but still catch a glimpse of her blue denim overalls and green shirt.

They match your own in a way.

You finally say hi back and take the shovel to the dirt under a beautifully perfect sycamore tree that arches into the sky; it rises before the two of you, right in the middle of the meadow. The dirt stains your clothes as you drop to your knees, using your hands more than the shovel to dig at the layered earth.

You hear soft footsteps behind you but don’t look up from your work. To your side you see the girl walk up to you again and she places a small flower behind your ear before grinning and moving to lay in the sun near you.

You pluck the flower out from behind your ear to examine it. A white petunia. A wistful familiarity to the flower washes over you and you tuck it back behind your ear before moving back to the freshly unearthed dirt.

You can feel her watching as you dig this pit, you hate the feeling of dirt under your fingernails. The mud cakes on your hands and crackles with every movement; it makes your skin crawl but you don’t give up now. After a small hole is dug, you grab the large stone and tools brought in the wheelbarrow and begin to carve. She sits next to you now, her smaller hands grip a rock in her own palms and she plays with it gently.

You carve a name you didn’t think you’d ever write again into the rock and place it at the top of the pit. She recognizes the name, tips her head smiling gently, and in an understanding manner she stands up.

And walks away. Around the back of the sycamore tree she disappears and then reappears.

She plucks a sycamore leaf off the ground when she´s visible again and looks up as you smile at her. She drops the leaf into the hole you've dug, then helps you repack the layers of sediment that you both know you’ll unearth again, in the future, to be intertwined together in the end.

But not now. Now, the earth is resealed and she smiles sweetly, laying a makeshift bouquet of petunias and poppies with a gentle hand.

You get up and hold a hand out for her, she doesn't look away from the earth you've both just moved and instead runs her hands over the top of the rocks again before sighing with a big smile. She gets up and grabs your hand, it's so much smaller and softer than yours yet you can still feel the dirt on both of your hands.

She grips your hand a little tighter, following your lead as you walk towards home, flower still tucked behind your ear you notice a matching flower behind her own. And you smile.

When you get closer to the house, her eyes are wide with soft recognition, a place so familiar to the both of you yet it feels cold and empty at the same time. You invite her inside again, it's been so long for you both, still the house is like an old friend, in a way. You hold open the door and she steps through.

She walks over to the dinner table and sits down at the far side, gesturing for you to sit on the other but you shake your head politely.

You aren't ready yet.

You ask if she’d like a drink, and she nods. You already know what she would like so you don’t have to wait for her to tell you. Passing over the tall glass with ice clinking in it feels like a ritual. You don't want to let go. You do. You sit down across from her.

You know what's coming next and it's hard. You know you have to accept it. Losing her again won't be easy but you know it's not permanent this time.

She takes small sips of her drink, smiling over to you but neither of you attempt to make small talk anymore, you both know how the interaction will end.

And it's not bittersweet. Neither of you are upset. She is content in a way you don’t think you quite understand yet. But you think you feel complete, whole and peaceful for possibly the first time in your life.

It's enjoyable to watch her glowing eyes look at you with respect and admiration, to be able to grow into what you did makes her heart beat with something adjacent to love.

And as you leave the house, knowing you will be reunited in the end, to be buried in love & hate, happiness & anger, and warmth & heartache. You know it's love. It's always been love.

For her.

-Her. An Essay. (By me)

Happy trans visibility day. This is an ode to the girl I was. We will be buried together in the end. I love you, take care.

[theragamuffininitiative]

Ah, for the people who have blocked me bc I am simply (and reasonably) asking for proof of the validity of wildly circulated misinformation based on nothing but hearsay that is actively damaging hurricane relief efforts, and stirring even greater division among our fellow citizens:

I sincerely hope you have done so for reasons of not discoursing on the internet with a stranger in a way that for you is detrimental to your mental health, and not bc you refuse to acknowledge and discuss the possibility that you might be wrong.

One thing is very healthy, the other is very dangerous and sad.