#it's such a tiny silly detail but I'm glad I was able to make the text line up like that lol

[sheliesshattered]

I finished my lightsaber bag last weekend, but work has been so hectic that I haven't really had the time to take photos and write up a post about it until now.

The finished bag, when closed like this, is 39" long and 5" wide. It fits my lightsaber (hilt with 28" blade attached) just perfectly, and it's so nice and soft and padded inside that I feel like my saber is protected from most things it would encounter either at home or out in the world. I wouldn't check it as airline baggage in just this bag, but short of that it feels pretty secure.

The top flap closes with a large strip of brown velcro, which makes it quick and easy to get my saber out when I need it. That faux-suede fabric I used for the lining is a bit grippy, and the interior of the bag is too narrow to get even my tiny raccoon hands into, so it takes just the right amount of force (no pun intended) to draw the lightsaber out of the bag. Even with the flap open, there isn't much risk of the saber just falling out of the bag.

The fake pocket flap in the middle of the bag, near the right edge of the above picture, hides another bit of velcro, which allows me to close off the bag at a slightly shorter length by folding the top flap down even further, until the velcro on the left side of the picture meets up with the underside of that flap. I didn't get any pictures of that, since it's really only usable when I separate the hilt and blade of my saber, which is just fiddly enough that I prefer to keep them attached when I can. But it does give me the option, say for a Disney trip, to remove the hilt and wear it on my belt, and then have just the blade in the bag, with the bag being a little bit shorter and lighter and easier to carry onto rides and such.

The pocket at the lower end of the bag is sized for carrying the hex wrench and little screws needed for attaching the blade to the hilt, and also has enough room to tuck the charging cable in there as well.

I've taken to storing my fingerless leather gloves clipped onto the bag, just so they're handy for practicing with the saber every evening. I've built up a good repertoire of flow arts combinations, training on both hands pretty equally, and find that my frequently achy wrists and shoulders are much happier for the routine. I'm hoping to get video of it soon.

When I'm not using my saber, it lives in the bag hung from a hook on the wall. I might like to eventually have a dedicated hook at something closer to waist level, but for now this higher up coat hook works just fine.

The carrying strap took a little bit of fiddling around with to figure out what was most comfortable (even though the whole thing is easily under 5lbs, probably closer to 3), but looped through the top ring and then clipped at the bottom seems to be the winning combination. I can pull the bag on over my head, but the easier thing is to unclip the big S carabiner from the lower ring. The strap isn't permanently attached to the bag anywhere, so I can experiment with other arrangements or even other straps in the future, if I want to.

The chalk guidelines from when I put the lettering on are still showing up somewhat in these photos, but in person they're hardly noticeable. I may do another erasing pass on them at some point, and I still haven't decided if I want to do some weathering with fabric paints or just leave it as is. Generally I'm really happy with how it turned out, but it's nice to know that I can easily make a few more adjustments to it if I feel like it.

But the next thing I want to spend some time working on is the lightsaber hilt itself. I picked out this particular combination of pieces knowing that I wanted to do some practical weathering on it. The hilt is made from aluminum with a nice matte black finish over top, and I've seen lots of examples online of the difference that sanding that surface makes to the overall look of the saber. Now that I've gotten to know the saber and figured out where my hands naturally want to hold it most often, it's just going to be a matter of getting in there with some sandpaper and starting to take off that black paint in a few places.

I've also been toying with the idea of adding a bit of heat bluing to the emitter using paints, and I think all those details will really help it look more like the 'fragile antique' that the bag proclaims it to be. Modifying my saber like that is a bit daunting, but I have a pretty good idea of what I want the hilt to look like when it's finished, so it's really just a matter of carving out some time to take pieces of the hilt apart and strategically attack them with sandpaper.

And besides that, the only thing I still need for Star Wars Nite is the actual tickets to Star Wars Nite, lol. We're coming up on the end of our third week with our new client, and we have a better idea of when the major milestones and deadlines are in April and May, so hopefully Jack and I can sit down soon and figure out when we want to head back to Batuu.

[jamisonwritestf2trash]

October is almost here!! Any idea what the mercs would dress up as to celebrate halloween?

Love your writing :D

TF2 Mercs Halloween Costumes!

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I'm gonna cry I love Halloween and I'm also really glad you like my writing 😭

Mutual appreciation comment: Thank you for such a fun request and thank you for being a mutual, ily 💖

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I tried super hard to come up with originals ones and not like opt out into easy costumes, I sorted through many a costumes and my god some were so bad.

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Demo dresses up as the Grim Reaper and doesn't hold back on making his costume as scary as he can. Like this man is going to make at least one kid piss themselves. His costume gives people (Scout) Nightmares. It's even scarier/funnier when he gets drunk and starts stumbling around and groaning, looks like he's about to actually harvest someone's soul. The other mercs end up having to carry him home, and apologizing to multiple angry parents, Demo is only allowed to wear less scary costumes or at least not get wasted while wearing a scary one.

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Engie and Pyro have to go together, I'd be so wrong not to put them down as having a duos costume. Kronk and Yzma, please it's such a funny concept to have Engie as an evil (semi) mastermind and Pyro as a well meaning but slightly dumb sidekick. I just love this idea so much. Their so silly going trick or treating together, people are a little freaked out by them but it's all in good fun I'm sure. If anyone dares say anything about them being "to old." there will be hell to pay from Engie.

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Heavy is Michaels Myers, I just think this fits so well? Like? I don't know how to elaborate on this one other than the fact that he'd play the part so well. Also, if we're talking about the fear factor like we did with Demo, and costume this man wears is terrifying everyone, it just so happens that dressing up as Michael Myers yielded the most terrifying reaction. Made kids cry, felt bad about it, probably went back to the base after that happened, or just took off the mask. Gets made fun of for this for at least a month afterwards.

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I have rewrote this for Medic at least six times now. I want this man to dress up as a nurse so bad it's not even funny. I'm going feral over here guys, I'm using all my restraint to not go into graphic detail about Medic being a nurse for Halloween. But for this prompt I will attempt to be a normal and sane human being, and go with an almost cliché, I think he'd be a plague doctor for Halloween. He loves his job, what can I say, of course it'd transition over to his Halloween costume. I think he'd also just like the look of it, and it doesn't help that this man is a history nerd who was obsessed with the plague. Dresses up Archimedes as a tiny plague doctor so he can take him with, introduces Archimedes as his assistant. Also manages to get the bird head tilt thing on point and pull that move every so often to freak people out.

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Scout is going as Beetlejuice. I think he'd be able to act as gross and silly as Beetlejuice. ALSO kind of obscure but not really, in an episode of The Amazing World of Gumball, Gumball dresses up as Beetlejuice while scamming the entire city of candy and I honestly saw that and though, oh yeah scout would do that. Like my man manages to get as much candy as he possibly can, he is ruthless. Accidently uses semipermanent hair dye instead of the washout stuff and has green hair for about six months after Halloween.

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Sniper was planning to just go as he was, Scout begs him to dress up, it being traditional and all. Decides he's pretty much dressing like a cowboy at all times anyway, so why now just roll with it? Manages to beat the system with this one, and bearly puts on anything new for his costume. Makes a lasso buys a sheriff star and some boots and deems his outfit complete. Scout is mildly disappointed but still happy he could at least convince him to dress up.

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Is it to much if I say Spy would be a princess for Halloween? Is it too much if I say a specific Disney princess? I mean it's not my fault that Cinderella is so iconic, and that Spy would slay so hard in that dress, like come on, I can't stop putting him in dresses now. If that's not what people wanted they wouldn't have made the art of Spy in a dress. And you know this man has the glass heels, takes dressing up very seriously. Maybe even makes a couple of stuffed mice to keep on his dress to make it look more accurate to the movie, who knows.

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I think it would be so funny if Soldier dressed up like a revolutionary soldier, but I won't go for something so easy, I refuse. I'll say he'd dress up as a werewolf, but with a twist, he's a were-raccoon! He'd make the costume himself and be so proud. Shows it to his raccoon pals (I don't know if this was someone's headcanon or actual canon but either way, I agree he has pet raccoons), and they cheer.

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Sorry it's not super long! I don't know why my headcanons have gotten less detailed, maybe the brain rot is that severe, but I still loved doing this one. and I'm glad I could at least get this one done!

I promise one of these days I'll get back into being able to do longer posts!

Love you guys 💖

[sunny-lounge]

We got matching Christmas sweaters. (Ch 2/2)

Relationship: Sami/Jey (SamiJey)

Rating: Teen — feelings and emotions, fluff, Christmas, a kiss, fun and silly, ugly Christmas sweaters, slight possessive feelings, established relationship, secret relationship, relationship reveal, family

Summary: Jey and Sami have matching ugly Christmas sweaters, it's a secret. Until it's not. Part 1 - how Jey and Sami got their matching sweaters Part 2 - how the others found out.

Word count: 2,667

Ao3 link - Ch 2 / Ch 1 here. / *Other Fics*

A/N: I said I'd write something lighter this time so here it is, and I wanted to try something different. I didn't have a lot of time to write this because I wanted to get it out before Christmas. But hey, even if one person out there enjoys it!! 🥰 HERE’S PART 2!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!!✨❄️🎄🎁🎅🏻🎉☃️✨ I hope you enjoy this! 🌸🌺

[— Again: I wouldn't classify myself a "writer" SO... Comments/Feedback would really really be appreciated (comments sec; tags; or asks- anon or not), to really just actually, and quite genuinely gauge how good or BAD this is. So I know for myself 😁. And obviously I'd really love to know if you enjoyed it! - comments are so wonderful and so motivating as well! Thank you again for reading! 🩷]

Tagging: @afterdarkprincess @fantasyismyonlyrealescape @imabillyami

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He knows he's being ridiculous. The others won't care right? Maybe they won't even notice that it's part of a set, after all, Sami isn't scheduled to come in today. So Jey's confident he can get away with this.

And, really where would Sami even wear his 'Christmas' sweater, he doesn't actually celebrate the occasion...Jey thinks they're safe.

Walking into the locker room dropping his bag down Jey spots Jimmy immediately, grinning at his older twin. It's hard not to, Jimmy's always had that ability to make him smile, big smile, always been able to no matter what else is going on around them, no matter how bad or how chaotic, Jimmy always puts a smile on his face without even trying, seeing his face is enough to.

Jimmy's wearing a holly-green sweater that's looking extra soft and fluffy. At the top, "BITE ME!"— shiny silver sequins bordering it's glittering red letters, a large gingerbread man cookie dancing at the midsection one leg up in the air twirling, complete with a glitter candy cane in its hand being swung around, icing embroidery outlining its features, and the most gaudy obnoxious looking pompom buttons known to man going down its front. It looked like someone had thrown up a mix of different colored glitter in random patches all over the remaining parts of his sweater.

All in all it is hideous. His brother Jimmy has hit the brief of "ugly" Christmas sweater to perfection, he's understood the assignment and executed it to the highest standard. Jey is not one bit surprised...that Jimmy excelled at this.

“Ain't you all 'sweeet'  lookin' today, Uce,” croons Jey, leaning in with a smirk. Jimmy just grins at him like he's pleased with himself, throwing a candy cane at his head, which he manages to duck last minute.

“You so lame, Uce. 'Sweeeeet'!?  Really? This early with them lame ass puns?" huffs out Jimmy, laughing. "But, I am lookin' damn 'sweeeeet' aren't I?" he smirks, wriggling his eyebrows.

"I'm jus' learnin' from the best, Uce," quips Jey, shooting him a toothy smile. "Yea, you just soo...sweeeeet lookin', Uce, my teeth all gon' fall out."

He can see Jimmy gearing up to reply, but before he can, Solo's walking around the corner and giving Jey a stoic once-over. “Nice,” he nods, and continues on his way. 'Well, if that isn't the highest compliment coming from Solo..,'  thinks Jey. He's glad once again that he changed his mind and chose to wear this sweater.

The Wiseman already seated to his right is dressed in a purple sweater with a spectacular looking golden menorah on its front, orange flamed white candles resting in it, and immaculately detailed tiny multi-colored dreidels delicately embroidered all around the hem and ends off his sleeve. Classy.

“Wiseman! Lookin' good!” says Jey, a little too loudly, sue him, he's a little surprised with the holiday spirit and enthusiasm being shown, as he himself is feeling it. Seems like everyone's getting into it, he'd forgotten the Wiseman was Jewish.

Looks like Jimmy was right after all, he really is starting to feel an extra sense of camaraderie and togetherness already.

“Figured I'd join you rather than fight it," says the Wiseman, with a shrug, "I knew I was out numbered...,” trailing off, sighing. Looking and sounding down and defeated, if not for the slight smirk gracing his lips.

Always a sly low-key shit-stirrer...but that's what made him so unique, that's what makes him the 'Wiseman'— One minute he's showing off his brilliant and intellectual mind, the next he's strategically taking down their opponents with his hidden expertise. But, on the other hand, he's also cleverly busting your balls, and half the time you don't realize it till it's too late. They appreciate this side of him too, it's one of the reasons they all got on so well.

Solo's sweater is more subdued, a dark deep red with little white snowflakes embroidered around the collar, the midsection, hem and his cuffs, little shiny threaded brightly colored hollies in-between them. So Jey makes it a point to tell Solo, "You look nice too, Uce."

Solo's made the effort and that matters, and Jey wants to let him know it, it shows that Solo still underneath it all wants to be a part of the "family", to somehow even fit-in, in his own way, even if he sometimes acts otherwise.

"He does, don' he, Uce," adds Jimmy, cheesing at them from the other side. "You look nice, dawg!"

And of course, Solo responds with his single stoic nod, because that's what Solo does. And, it's the best they'll get from him, but they're used to it. And, it's okay, because that's their baby brother.

Just then the door opens and in walks Roman, announcing Sami will be dropping by soon to go over their tag team match together; it's unexpected, but he's excited to see Sami, just like he always is and he silently wonders if this feeling will ever fade. It's like he's perpetually living in the 'honeymoon' phase of theirs, just over and over, on and on, never completely escaping. Ever since, well, ever since the beginning, really. So, he's looking forward to seeing his boyfriend especially when they'd thought they would be spending today apart.

They've been in plenty of work situations since they've become boyfriends, and nothing's changed. Jey isn't worried about that.

'Boyfriends' it still feels weird saying it because it's such a foreign concept to Jey. And he's not sure, if he'll ever get used to the swarm of butterflies he feels that comes along with it. His stomach in chaos every single time, another occurrence that's completely foreign to him, every single time making it fluttering like crazy when he realizes that Sami is now—his boyfriend.

It hasn't caused any trouble yet, both of them being able to remain professional. Even though he's finding it harder and harder to stop himself from jumping Sami, and trapping those sweet pink soft delicious kissable...damn..he could go on...lips between his whenever he sees them, like they were always demanding to be taken—and really, he'd just be taking what's now his. The possessive bastard that he is, constantly wanting to come out and play whenever Sami is around. Something else he's never experienced, this constant need and want for someone, for them to be his and only his in every way, never until Sami.

“Told Sami we're wearin' Christmas sweaters, so he don't feel like a damn fool when he shows up,” shares Roman, walking past. And amused murmurs of agreement rise, from Jimmy and the Wiseman, waiting to see what the 'honorary Uce' will turn up in.

Roman himself is wearing a sweater that's a rich royal deep red, almost bordering on maroon, tight and fitting, an intricate extremely detailed golden snowflake carefully woven with fancy shimmery gold thread featuring right in the center, tiny white and silver snowflakes scattered around, the illusion of snow falling from the sky. Completing out the look of a magical, royal and regal Christmas—just like Roman.

So far, it looks like it's three for three. Three very decent, nice, and put together Christmas sweaters worn by Solo, the Wiseman and Roman. And, three 'ugly' Christmas sweaters worn by, Jimmy, himself and...

And, then it hits Jey. Now he's a little worried, because he knows Sami only owns one Christmas sweater—the one that matches Jey. The one he's currently wearing.

Jey is quickly running through his options, his escape plan, his excuse...

He's hoping maybe he'll get called out, by management or the crew for something that needs to be taken care of. Or, he can pretend he is sick. Maybe, pretend this is all just a big coincidence, and they just happened to have matching sweaters, he's fairly sure no one's going to buy that though. Or, he could just take his sweater off.

And, none of which would solve anything because everyone's already seen the sweater. At the very best he'll be able to avoid their reactions for a while, but what's the point, he's going to have to face them eventually and avoiding it will only make them rib him even harder. And, he can't find it in himself to leave Sami all on his own to face these bunch of brutes he calls family.

As though fate has been listening in on his lamenting, his inner dread, it is at that precise moment that Sami casually strides into the locker room.

Jimmy notices first, guffawing out a high bubble of laugher. “Jey, you and Sami matchin'! Man, I thought you 'n me was twins, dayoneish!”

Jey can't really focus on Jimmy, shifting his gaze a little, away from his twin now training it on Sami, wearing the matching set of their pair of sweaters. Sami just gives him a sheepish rueful smile in return, messily running his fingers through his hair, a nervous gesture of his. Shrugging, with a 'it is what it is and I'm going to run with it' motion.

Jey is stuck for a second, not knowing what to say or how to react, but he doesn't need to.

“I’m surprised by your taste, Jey. Nice ugly sweater you're wearing by the way,” grins Sami, with a wink, smirking like nothing's wrong at all.

'That smug cocky red-headed menace,'' thinks Jey, adoringly, still unable to say anything helpful as he hears Jimmy let out another bout of laughter, watching Sami heading towards Roman waiting on the other side.

Jey stealthy grabs his phone typing out a quick message to his boyfriend.

- - 'Shit. I don' know if I wanna punch you right now or kiss that damn smirk off your face. You enjoyin' this too much Sami...'

He watches as Sami, still listening to Roman going through all the possible scenarios of their match and how to strategically counter them, read the message. Sami's eyes widen just the slightest, you can barely notice it, almost like Jey is seeing things, eyebrows rising just a touch, again not noticeable unless you're really looking. He sees Sami's tapping out a reply, face blank again still appearing unbothered and nonchalant as ever to everyone around.

But, Jey knows him better than that, he can see Sami's body barely keeping from reacting, coiling tense in anticipation, something simmering at the surface.

- - 'Then do it, Jey. I’m game if you are.'

Jey's staring at the message, he stares and stares, dumbfounded mildly disbelieving what he's reading. Is Sami joking? So he looks up again and almost flinches, Sami is looking right at him, dead in the eyes with a seriousness so intense that it sends a shiver straight down his spine.

He didn't think Sami would ever go in for such a bold move, he'd have thought if it had been one of them suggesting it, it'd have been him—suggesting this, to kiss in front of everyone, in the middle of the locker room...but Jey can't deny that he really wants to. He wants his family to know how happy he is, he wants everyone to know just how lucky and complete he is, and he wants to share this. He wants to show Sami off. And, it looks like Sami wants to do the same.

Roman and Sami seem to have finished discussing their move for their upcoming match, vaguely hearing Sami agreeing with the plan they've come up with. And, they say their goodbyes. Sami says his goodbyes to the rest of them as well, each in their own unique way, a handshake, a hug, a nod, or a combination.

And as Sami turns to leave, Jey calls out for him. “Hey, Sami?”

Sami turns around with a questioning look on his face.

Jey ignores it stepping forward, wrapping his large hand around Sami's shoulder holding him in place, softly sliding it up the back of his warm slender neck, and slowly pulling him in and kissing him—open-mouthed, long and hard, possessive and hungry, licking right into his mouth chasing the taste of him. He's putting on a show, claiming Sami in front of them, marking him as his.

Jey can feel Sami's sweet grin of acceptance and complete surrender under his lips, mapping it out with his own, and he's sure Sami can feel him smirking right back, he hears his twin whooping and wolf-whistling in the background, and he's pulling away with a laugh, huffing out a little breath.

Resting his forehead against Sami's, they're breathing a little hard, Sami with his eyes closed and Jey with his open. Sami savoring the moment the still phantom feel and taste of Jey on his lips, while Jey is savoring Sami taking in the beautiful blissed out man before him.

They probably didn't need to kiss for that long or with so much intensity. But, now there isn't a single doubt in anyone's mind as to who Sami really belongs to. He might be part of the Bloodline, but he's Jey's.

And, there's a pleasant prickling, a tingling against his skin at the thought of it. He knows he's become a possessive bastard, and now his family knows it too. He's just made it very clear, there's no doubt in anyone's mind. Sami belongs to him. He belongs to Sami.

He keeps looking at Sami and he wants to taste those reddened plumped up swollen lips in front of him once again, in front of everyone once again, the ones that he caused to look that way.

"We still on for tonight?” asks Jey, going for casual, acting like the last few minutes didn't just happen.

Sami just grins at him all teeth, dopey looking fully gone on Jey, with that twinkle in his hazel eyes that's so distinctly Sami, the one that Jey can't ever look away from. “Of course, Jey.”

Sami ducks his head a shy smile now gracing his kissed-out lips, face still flushed still looking slightly dazed as he leaves, making an obviously quick escape while he can, in these precious last few moments of silence when he has the chance to.

Jey slowly turns back to his family and catches Solo passing Jimmy a $50 note. Roman and the Wiseman solemnly doing the same. He hears Roman distinctly mumble something like 'He couldn't have waited another week?'

“You knew?” Jey asks Jimmy, as casually as he can.

He's surprised, but he's also really not to be honest, more like a little affronted if anything, he could never really hide anything from Jimmy—his twin, the one person who sometimes knows him better than he knows himself, knows his own thoughts even before he does, his own feelings even before he can comprehend them, his dayoneish.

“Course, Uce! You know you ain't hiddin' nothin' from me. Don' know why you even think to try. 'Sides we be blind not seein' it,” says Jimmy, rolling his eyes grinning, and Solo is doing his stoic nod in agreement next to him.

He looks to the others, at Roman and the Wiseman and they too are giving Jey the 'you really think we didn't know? Do we look blind and stupid to you?—that's sad...' look.

Jey just shakes his head not knowing whether to feel a little put out by the whole thing or rightfully elated by their reactions, and sits back flopping down. All the tension and anticipation leaving him, his body loosening up and relaxing. They finally did it. He and Sami had done it, and the world hadn't ended, Sami had been right all along, Jey had just been over thinking it all.

Jimmy is still giving him that stupidly large and wide grin of his, and for all it's worth Jey can't help but return it in equal measure.

His attention turns to the pinging of his phone and he scoops it out of his pocket opening it.

- - 'I love you.'

Another ping rings.

- - 'I've got dessert waiting for you 😏'

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Thank you for reading! Hope you enjoyed it! 🩷

[kadoodles-on-ao3]

Hey there!! Thank you for the kind ask (this is Zanthe's "Main" blog) I didn't want to reply to it directly because i'd like to keep it in my inbox to treasure, but I wanted to say thank you. It truly means a lot!

We are 🤝 over rarepairs in this tiny little fandom, though I do admit I love the anonymity nowadays! I've been here for years and it's very comfortable and nice being an older, more obscure artist lol.

I do recommend at the very least, sitting down and writing down your amv ideas. There are many i've never drawn, but i have a ton written down to chip away at the day I have the energy to, and it's very good to keep those ideas with you, i hope you're able to realize them one day, I'd love to see them!

Also, I'm glad my checklist can be of help!! If you're curious, it took about 4 days to make it, in which i was completely hyperfixated on it!spreadsheets my beloved. Good luck on your project!! If you'd ever like to chat, feel free to send a message ^w^ have a lovely day

Oh!! Of course, I'm glad it made you happy! To hear you liked it so much you want to preserve it is really touching and made me smile, thank you! :>

(I hope it's alright that I'm replying to your ask directly, if not let me know and I'll take this down and copy-paste what I said below to you in a DM if you'd like!)

Haha it's really true that rarepair fans are like their own group that crosses fandoms and/or specific ships, a little subculture inside a subculture of a subculture :)

I definitely can't blame you for not wanting a lot of attention since I feel the same way, I'd be terrified to be a big name haha.

Oh I really appreciate the advice! The fact that you think my ideas are worth preserving is very kind of you haha :) I'm very much the type who gets random inspiration at 3 AM or while eating dinner, and would otherwise forget my epiphanies if I didn't write them down. So ever since I was a kid I made a habit of it! Although back then I used pencil and paper haha, but now I have a 22-page-long semi-organized google doc. The AMV outlines are in there somewhere! Knowing there's even one person out there who wants to see something I've made or plan to make is an incredible feeling, thank you so much ;v;

Anyway, how did you learn to animate and make AMVs? And what drawing software do you use? If you don't mind me asking of course!

Oh thank you again for that checklist!! Wow 4 days seems like nothing compared to how extensive it is, that's amazing! I've been working on my own Xenoblade excel sheet project for a long time now, and it took me months and months to get that near completion. But if you're much better at organizing/planning than I am it saves a ton of time, I went through like 3 major restructurings of stuff that took days to finish... only to redo everything like a week later haha

And you're also very kind to read my silly tags and wish me luck on my project!! (It's a different one from before haha, that one is a comprehensive list of when all the party members' and bosses' voice lines play and under what circumstances. I'll be making it public on the upcoming anniversary!) For this other one, it's a challenge run of XC1 of sorts! But I have a dumb irrational fear that if I go into detail about what it is, someone else will swoop in before I get a chance to do it myself and take the world-first credit of it hahaha. But one day I will do it, I really want to, and your checklist will be immensely super helpful in planning my route and keeping track of everything, so thank you again! And thank you again (again) for this wonderful message, it really brightened my whole day! :))

[lil-melody-moon]

hello! hope you are having a good day! i saw from your blog and your other santa that you like birds, i'm so glad we can all appreciate the funky little winged creatures! do you have any favorite birds, or a top 5 list of birds you would like to be able to see? my favorite i've seen would have to be a galapagos penguin, they're so adorable and just the sleepiest little guys ever! i'm hoping to be able to see a kiwi bird at some point though, they're so cute!

-pickle

Hello, Pickle! I do, thank you very much, hope you are having a wonderful day as well <3

Yes, I love those tiny animals. Even yesterday I saw two male great tits, they were just on a small tree where I exited the car. It was freezing but I've watched them for a while, it was a good idea, a bit of joy at the end of a difficult week.

I do have favorite birds, saw a few of them and will get in details, but I just checked the galapagos penguins and they are adorable! Kiwi birds seem to be very silly, not found in my country, but it would be nice to see them as well and I hope you get to see them at some point!

To the list tho:

Canaries

One of the three pics my tiny one let me do of herself, she be posing in this one. Those birds have their character. They are territorial most of the times, very fighter like, but if you're their owner they won't do anything to you, unless you piss them off. And they sing very beautifully - my lady does as well, I love her pips and her tries at singing, she's good at that!

2. Peacocks

Those are beauties, literal beauties! Up there on the first pic, there's male and female, both very beautiful and even if females don't have that wonderful tail, they're still cute. I like the white feathers on them, makes them look like they would have dots. The blue feathers of the male's one are to kill for, truly a blue color. AND THE TAIL!

3. Tits (God, English sucks at birds's names)

They are adorable in any form. Perfect tummies, perfect shapes and their pips are just <3 Not to mention chicks are very cute as well - included a pic, I love them so much! I actually once encountered a chick tit on a pavement. It was jumping around on the place where cars could drive in to get to a square. I waited there, seeing if there's a mama bird somewhere and there was, she was gathering food for the little one and I just couldn't leave the tiny one alone. There was a small field of trees and what not on the square so I walked after the chick, leading it there. The parent was watching me and once I almost got near the trees it was ready to attack me but it didn't luckily. I only wanted for the tiny one to be safe and hopefully the tiny one is out there, enjoying the winter now <3

4. Ravens

Black beauties. I only saw them a few times in my life, once during a walk in winter, they were on a building site, I think, on a huge heap, doing so much noise. I was on the other side of the road so I didn't see them up close, but there were so many. They seem elegant to me, maybe because of how their feather are always so shiny, neatly done.

5. Magpies

Big, mean assholes, that's what they are, but they are beautiful. Very territorial - had a pair of them build a nest on a tree before my window, one poor pigeon landed under that tree, I thought the magpies will kill this poor idiot. I think they also don't like each other much, looking at how they acted while they were gathering branches - 5 pairs were on literal war in front of my window for the branches from two trees, and like, they are not nice to other birds. Other birds doesn't like them either, but after seeing them attacking other ones, mostly jackdaws, I once saw a magpie near a crow. Crow is much bigger in height and size and this was the first time I saw a magpie avoiding other bird in such a big distance. The crow was standing and the magpie did a huge circle to not be noticed. But overall, in all the negative behavior, they are very intelligent. I mean, to pull as much shit as they do you gotta have a brain XD

[reinvent-and-believe]

saying your names

Prompt: hallucination Relationships:  Geralt & Visenna  Rating: T Content Warnings: unintentional but constant misgendering by a parent; depiction of gender dysphoria in a small child; reference to child self-injury (scratching); abandonment issues; minor book spoilers Summary: Visenna's child is claimed by a witcher through the Law of Surprise. When she bears a daughter instead of the promised son, she thinks she's cheated Destiny. But Destiny rarely accepts such defeat. (Or - the trans Geralt mommy issues fic)

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo​

-

i. The Brave Knight

There’s an old fairy tale from far-away Toussaint, one Visenna remembers her grandmother telling her when she was little more than a babe, of a cohort of the bravest knights who gathered at the behest of the first duke to slay monsters and defeat villains and protect the land from all manner of evil. They were five in total, but none rivalled the gallant Sir Geralt, who defended the innocent and the weak, who perfectly embodied the Virtues, who fearlessly and faithfully loved the beautiful maiden Liliana. It’s a story like no other, full of heroics and chivalry, grand quests and epic romance. Visenna remembers sighing as a little girl, of braiding flowers into her shining copper hair and pretending to be Lady Liliana, rescued by that most puissant and most chivalrous of knights.

She hopes that her own daughter will love the tales as much as she did, so she recounts them while Greta lies in bed, wide dark eyes barely blinking as she soaks in every detail. She’s two now and obsessed with stories, any silly rambling thing Visenna remembers from childhood or improvises about the forest creatures near the village, but none have captivated her quite like this tale.

The next day, Visenna hears her daughter whacking at the swaying cattails at the bank of the river with a stick. “I defeat you!” comes the tremulous cry. “I Sir Geralt! I brave knight!”

It’s a small thing, and silly, yet Visenna goes cold.

ii. The Babe

When she realizes she’s with child, Visenna knows it will be a boy, feels it as sure as she feels the wind on her face, the blood pounding in her veins. She’s happy for a time. She knows the horrors women face, has seen, has felt firsthand the cruelties the world inflicts on beautiful little girls. Better a boy, then. Better a boy with a chance at a good life, a boy she can teach and train, a boy who won’t beat or violate or torment.

A mere month before the babe is due, the man returns, and finds her with child, and tells her what he’s done. He blames Destiny and the Law of Surprise and Tradition as Visenna learns a new type of cruelty men can inflict.

And so she hardens herself, tells herself that she will not become attached to what’s growing within her, this life promised to pay a life debt. “Don’t be absurd,” her friends tell her, through nervous glances. “You always assume the worst. It may well be a girl. The witcher won’t have need of a girl.”

But Visenna knows it, feels it with every spark of chaos within her and every pulse she sends out. The babe will be a boy, and she will have to give him up to the witchers, to be trained and transmuted into something other, something more and something less than the child she’ll birth.

And so Visenna grows cold.

When the midwife puts the squalling red girl with dark hair and wide dark eyes in Visenna’s arms, she sobs for days, sobs until she has no tears left and her eyes are raw and swollen. She won’t let the tiny thing out of her sight, barely lets others hold the babe, even in her utter exhaustion. Destiny may have promised her child to the witchers, but Destiny made the folly of giving her a daughter instead of the promised son.

iii. Greta

Greta will not wear her clothes.

At first, it’s almost a game. Visenna dresses her in a frock while the three-year-old protests then glares in turn when she’s overridden. She moves stiffly in the garment, pulling at the sleeves and tugging at the skirt, but she complies. But the minute she’s out of her mother’s sight, the dress comes off, and Visenna finds her naked, regardless of the weather. And the process repeats.

The struggle over clothing is only the beginning. Generally obedient, respectful, intelligent, Greta is nonetheless not an easy child, prone to inconsolable fits of panic and distress, prone to disappearing if not constantly monitored. It’s as though Visenna has birthed two different children. There’s the sullen, timid girl who hates wearing clothing, who barely speaks, who flinches at the sound of her own name, who stiffens in panic sometimes when she’s called, who cries at the slightest provocation, who goes missing only to be found after a frantic hour of searching lying on the floor in the narrow space between her bed and the wall, staring blankly, hearing nothing, seeing nothing. Then there’s the other child, the one who cuts dark curls short with the pruning shears from the shed, who runs fearlessly through the woods, slaying invisible monsters all around, yelling and laughing and breathless.

When a young couple with a son not much older than Greta moves into a nearby cottage, Visenna hopes that companionship will stabilize her daughter’s volatile, inexplicable moods. Instead, it leads to an immediate altercation: on the first day Greta and the boy Marek play together, the boy’s father shows up on Visenna’s doorstep, furious, with a wide, bleeding gash in his hand. He’d found them wearing each other’s clothes, he tells her. Greta had refused to surrender Marek’s clothes, and when he moved to force her out of them, she’d bitten his hand. “Like a rabid beast,” he spits out as Visenna runs past him to the small shack where Greta makes herself as small as possible, shaking all over.

Visenna shoves a few coins at the man with a glare. “Buy your son another outfit,” she snaps, and when she kneels down to Greta’s level the terrified child’s arms wrap immediately around her neck. She takes her child home in the roughspun tunic and trousers.

(Maybe she should punish the child for biting, but Visenna knows the ways men can be cruel, had seen the terror in her child’s huge brown eyes. Even if he meant no harm in trying to retrieve his son’s clothes, she can’t help being glad the child bit him rather than permit his touch.)

Visenna has never listened to Greta’s thoughts before, rarely listens to anyone’s on purpose, hates the uneasy sense of violation the act stirs up in her. But as she carries the silent, shaking child home, the thoughts ring so loudly she can’t keep them out.

Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl. Not an idiot girl.

Then:

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

Not a girl.

iv. The Child

The morning after the incident with the neighbor, Visenna lays two outfits side by side on the bed: the tunic and trousers nicked from the neighbor boy, or the dress most frequently tolerated, a plain shift of soft linen, comfortable and loose.

"Which would you rather wear today?" Visenna asks, making the beds as usual. She hears the sharp intake of breath, sees out of the corner of her eye the hesitation, and then the child grabs the boy's clothes and cradles them in trembling arms.

Visenna visits a tailor and trades in little frocks for breeches and shirts. She watches her child’s face light up when she presents them, watches the child run reverent fingers over each garment, little hands doing their best to neatly fold each piece.

She stops calling the child Greta; stops calling the child anything but child. The child doesn’t seem to mind this namelessness; on the contrary, the child thrives. The too-thin frame rounds out with healthy, nearly chubby development as the child begins to eat more than a few bites at each meal; weak, skinny arms and legs grow strong with constant running and playing in the woods near the house. Banished is the pale, terrified little girl; only the rambunctious, talkative, joyful child remains.

"When I'm a knight," the child tells her one day, coming in from the yard wearing a bucket as a helmet, "I'm going to ride a big horse."

"Oh, a big horse," Visenna echoes, ladling the soup into a wooden bowl and blowing gently to cool it. "What will you name the horse?"

The child considers this. "Does it have to have a name?"

"All creatures need a name."

The child doesn't speak for a long while. Then that piping, gentle voice rings out. "What if the horse hates its name? It won’t be able to tell me."

Visenna sets the bowl down on the table. She doesn't ask any of the questions pounding through her head as she looks at her nameless child, lost in thought. She doesn’t think about Destiny, how a witcher may well show up at her door at any moment looking for their payment, doesn’t think about taking the child there herself. "Helmet off," she says instead, running a hand through dark curls when the child obeys. "Come, eat your soup."

v. The Butcher

She first hears whispers of the Butcher of Blaviken when she’s traveling through Poviss, brought north by an outbreak of smallpox needing healers. She hears of the vile, deranged, white-haired witcher who slaughtered nearly an entire village unprovoked, even women and children. She thinks little of it. The child she left with the witchers over half a century ago had brown hair, and the years would not have turned it so quickly, not on a witcher.

If he’s even still alive.

She puts the thought away, carefully, as she has for decades.

She thinks of it a little more in Kovir. “You’re one of them!” shrieks a woman in the tavern, pointing at a bulky man sitting in the corner. “One of them witchers like that Butcher! I seen your wolf necklace!”

All eyes train onto this disfigured witcher who is not Visenna’s child. (Does her child bear scars like this? Do his shoulders stoop in such defeat?) He scrubs a square hand over his face, looking almost pained, before he shoves away from the table in silence and leaves.

School of the Wolf, then, just like the witcher she’d surrendered her child to with naught but a letter left at the inn where he was staying. Your Child Surprise will be at the crossroads by the river at midday. A few brief, stilted sentences explaining that the child was different from other boys but Destiny had chosen him nonetheless. A terse plea that the witcher treat the child with kindness, to protect him if he could. A postscript, written in a shakier hand than the rest of the letter. My son’s name is Geralt.

Vesemir. The child’s father had called him old, grey-haired even then. Is Vesemir this Butcher, the ruthless, barbarous old witcher who leaves a trail of fresh corpses in his wake? Had she entrusted the helpless child to a merciless brute all these years ago?

It’s not until the notice board outside of Tridam that she understands. It’s a fairly standard notice concerning some vague, nondescript monster that’s caused disappearances, pleading for help from any witcher, excepting the butcher Geralt. Show your face in Tridam and we’ll finish you off like they should have done in Blaviken.

Her child, the Butcher of Blaviken.

She doesn’t know what happened in Blaviken, can’t find a clear telling. Killed a woman, some say, killed an army, killed all but three people, killed everyone down to the dogs and cows and sheep in his rage. Tales grow in the telling, she knows, but she can’t dispute it. Perhaps he is evil incarnate, perhaps by sending him to the witchers she doomed the continent to bloodshed, perhaps he is the monster in these furious whispers.

But she can’t help remembering the tiny, terrified body, rocking in the corner of a shack, those wide eyes staring up at her in panic. “Like a rabid beast,” the man had said, but Visenna found only a petrified child shaking in the corner.

vi. The White Wolf

The young man swaggers towards Visenna. Between the bright turquoise doublet, the enormous feather swooping dramatically through the air on his jauntily tilted hat, and the self-assurance of his stride, he looks like a veritable peacock.

It’s her own fault. She knows she’d been staring, but the sound of that name on his lips…

“Lovely evening, isn’t it?” His smile is bright and surprisingly genuine, reaching all the way up to his eager blue eyes. He’s younger up close than she’d imagined from across the tavern, barely more than a boy. “Though not half so lovely as you, I daresay. Might I interest you in a drink?”

She nods, silent. Watches him charm a passing barmaid who blushes and quickly returns with the desired ale. He slips into the chair across from Visenna, resting his elbows on the table and lacing his long fingers together beneath his chin, fixing her with a wide-eyed, adoring smile.

Before he can speak, she asks, “Your song. About the witcher.” She pauses, unsure what she means to ask. “Did you write it?”

Somehow the boy looks even more delighted. “Indeed I did! By the gods, it’s wonderful to chat with a fan. It’s one of my most recent compositions. How did you like it?”

“Hmm.” The boy’s song had been so jarringly different from any reference to the child she bore than she’s ever heard. In the bard’s honeyed voice, he sounded almost heroic. She hesitates. “Do you know him?”

“Only a little,” he admits, but there’s a slight flush on his childish face that he attempts to cover with bravado. “The song is the true telling of our grand adventure. I accompanied the White Wolf on his quest to defeat the Devil of Posada, the most terrifying monster to ever...well, terrorize the good people of the Valley of the Flowers.”

“And he’s...he’s not what people say?” Those huge brown eyes staring up at her, tiny body trembling. “Not a butcher?”

“Oh my good lady, not at all!” The bard’s expression of dismay is guileless, earnest. “He saved me, put himself between me and harm’s way when we were captured by the elves, offered his own life for mine.”

A life debt. Just as the child’s father had promised the Law of Surprise to the old witcher, the vow that had set the course of Geralt’s life before he was even born. And now this strange boy owes Geralt a life debt of his own.

“So that’s why,” she confirms cautiously. “Why you write songs for him. Make him the hero when men would be more than happy to remember him as a monster.”

The boy hesitates, his charismatic blustering slipping as he bites at his bottom lip. He reaches distractedly into his pocket, finding some trinket he rolls about in his palm to occupy his busy, nervous hand before he slowly answers. “Even if he hadn’t saved my life I would have written about him. Well, not if I hadn’t survived that particular encounter, of course. But if I’d gotten away myself, or if I hadn’t followed him into the wild in the first place, I would still have written about him.”

“And why is that?”

“Because I…I don’t think he’s known very much kindness.” The bard doesn’t look at her, quite, as he speaks, slower and softer than before. “You ought to see the way he responds to a simple compliment, you’d think his head might explode, he twitches and looks bewildered and grunts angrily. It’d be amusing if it weren’t so very sad.” He’s quiet for a moment, tracing the wood grain in the table with his eyes as he gathers his thoughts. “But he’s kind, even if the world isn’t. He gave his reward for the contract to the…well, to someone who needed it more. And before that, he…” He glances down at the dull gold coin between his fingers, rubbing absently at worn, beveled edges, his face flushing prettily. “He liked my singing.”

She watches the bard, lost in thought and fiddling with a lone coin, for a long while.

vii. Geralt

A slip of a thing running through the woods. Frightened. Alone.

A fight. Gruesome, brutal, fast.

The stench of decay.

“And me? What did I do? I bandaged a wounded man who’d fainted away and put him on my cart and didn’t leave him to expire. It’s an ordinary matter.”

“It’s not so ordinary. I’ve been left...in similar situations...like a dog.”

Blood. Not running, red and healthy and clean; slow. Thick. Dark. Foul.

Infection.

Youths dancing in lusty delight on a warm spring night. A woman with raven curls, naked and wistful in his arms, the warmth of a bonfire lighting her face a beautiful gold. Children screaming, playing in a dried moat. A queen, formidable and sneering, full of contempt.

Hideous wounds, threatening the leg. Amputation may be necessary, without immediate intervention.

Resin in the air.

Ashen hair matted over the clumped, drying cake of blood deforming half of a pale face.

Black potion with a green seal. And then darkness.

Visenna awakes with a start.

The druids’ campsite is still, the last embers of the fire the only light in the darkness of the forest. She pulls the woolen cloak around her thin shoulders, grabs her medical bag, and goes to find the witcher that was once her child.

She finds him a pale and bloody mess on the back of a cart, eyes open and unseeing. He’s racked with feverish chills as his body desperately attempts to fight the infection poisoning him.

She helps the merchant move Geralt carefully onto blankets on the ground. She tends to him, as she’s tended to thousands of others. She cleans his wounds, scraping destroyed, decaying flesh away from healthy tissue, pulling the gentle pulses of chaos from the earth to purify his blood, draining infection and necrosis and narcotic alike from him.

She’d cleaned blood and dirt and debris from scraped knees, once, the too-fast beating of a little, huge heart pounding so loudly she could feel it. The wounds of childhood.

His pulse is slow, the drumbeat of a dirge.

She’s warm all over, suddenly, then cold. Her vision swims before her eyes.

A little more. The pulsing wanes, wavers as she begins to join him in the dark void beyond consciousness.

No.

She breathes, her eyes closed, then returns to her work.

She feels him stirring before he makes a movement, senses him swimming to the surface, coming to. He’s quiet, still, blank. When his eyes open, he’s staring at the treetops above them. His face is impassive. Lifeless.

The way she would find him, sometimes, after he went missing as a child. Staring at nothing. Trying not to be.

She can hear it in his voice. He knows.

His leg will heal, now. She’s done all she can.

She moves on to the bedsores, massaging ointment carefully into the open wounds. His body is stiff and unyielding beneath her touch.

She gives him what she can. “It’s my profession,” she says. Her voice is steady, cool. It’s no excuse, no answer, but it’s what she has. “The only thing I’ve ever been good at.” This much at least is true. This much she can give him.

She’s always known she would meet him again. She never sought him out, never avoided him. “People linked by destiny will always find each other.” She hears it, as though it’s someone else’s voice.

“I want you to look at me.” It’s a snarl. Not a sound she’s heard from those lips before. “How do you like my eyes? Do you know, Visenna, what they do to a witcher to improve his eyes?”

She knows enough. She meets his gaze.

Those eyes, the greatest marker of his difference, his inhumanity. They’re golden, now, instead of brown. His pupils are wide, round, black, pained. They aren’t so different. So monstrous.

Just the eyes of a terrified child lashing out in desperation.

“Do you know it doesn’t always work?” he demands.

“Stop it, Geralt.”

And something breaks.

“You don’t get to use that name!” There’s a frantic rage dripping off every syllable, hatred and agony, like a festering wound ripped open and left to bleed. He glares at her with a wild fury. “Vesemir gave me that name.”

And he’s a child, he’s three years old and screaming like he’s being tortured when she calls his given name. He’s five and distraught over the thought of a horse who hates its name and can’t tell anyone. He’s four and he’s a trembling mess with blood beneath his fingernails, shaking and unable to stop ripping at his own flesh.

“You trusted Destiny rather than trying to find me yourself,” he begs.

A child with nothing in the world running through the forest and into the arms of a witcher.

There’s a tear running down her face. It’s the only thing she can feel. “Don’t ask me any more questions,” Visenna says softly.

“Why?”

She’d known since before he was born that she wasn’t to keep him. That Destiny had other plans.

When she thought she had a daughter, there was hope.

“The answers will only hurt us both.” Carefully, Visenna presses him back into the makeshift sickbed.

“Yen was right.” His voice is low, barely audible, a broken murmur. “It’s not enough to be destined for each other.”

A child runs through the woods and finds a witcher waiting.

Brown curls become ashen locks. Eyes swirling brown and gold and green.

“Something more is needed.” He’s not speaking to her anymore. He’s staring up, at the treetops and through them to the stars above, his eyes losing and regaining focus. “I...I want…”

“No.” Her voice is soft, and she sees him relax into the smooth cadence in spite of himself. “Go to sleep, Geralt.” She hesitates as his eyes grow heavy, begin to drift shut, and she can’t help leaning toward him to gently whisper, “And just between us, Vesemir didn’t give you that name.” She lets herself reach out, carefully brushing white hair off his sweating brow. “It doesn’t change anything, but I’d like you to know that.”

“Visenna…”

“Sleep. I was just a dream.” She hesitates, watching silently as he fights the exhaustion, like a child fighting to stay awake past his bedtime, begging for one more story. “Sleep, Sir Geralt.”

He does.

viii. Sir Geralt

She does not see him again.

She travels to Sodden and heals the injured, soldier and mage alike.

She hears tales, as she has for years.

Geralt’s kidnapped a young Cintran princess for unspeakable, nefarious purposes.

Geralt died on Thanedd, caught up by chance in the mages’ bloody revolt.

Geralt led the forces of Lyria and Rivia against Nilfgaard, earning himself a knighthood and a position in Queen Meve’s army.

(She doesn’t believe any of them, doesn’t let herself care either way, but she hopes the latter is true. Hopes he lives out the rest of his days a brave knight, as he always dreamed of becoming.)

Visenna works. Cleans and stitches and bandages wounds, wanders from battleground to battleground. There’s no shortage of work for a healer.

So many tales of Geralt the witcher, Geralt the traitor, Geralt the butcher, the knight, the outlaw, the hero, the father. Of his victories and defeats, his loves and enemies, his transcendence, his demise.

Visenna listens to them all. Collects the stories, the lies, the praises, the calumnies. She draws them carefully within her. Carries them with her as she continues on the path.

For all the rumors and speculation and ballads, of all things, for all the different Geralts, there’s one that’s hers and hers alone. A skinny, adventurous child with brown curls and a bucket-helmet falling into his eyes who swings a gnarled oak stick as a sword. He’s ever vigilant, ever ready to defend the weak against the unrelenting onslaught of monsters only he can see.

[hapalopus]

Cross Your Heart Chapter 17 live blog/initial thoughts

@karkalicious769 I've been so excited for this chapter I went out and bought snacks to really make it a special reading experience. I can't believe we're finally gonna figure out what's going on!!!

I'm tired of tumblr's image limit, so instead of screenshots I'll just copy-paste whatever quotes I'm reacting to. And I'm on mobile, so I can't do line-breaks only paragraph breaks RIP

Anyways without further ado...

The image of Rook in Max's old 70s clothes is delightful and I need fanart stat! at least in my mind it's 70s, don't ruin this for me dfghgdd

"a tiny part of Rook was thrilled by his lack of respect today." THAT’S MY BOY!!! He's really grown as a character during this fic and it shines through in little things like this<3

"Even his eyes were the wrong shade of green." Yes yes we get it Blonko, you're madly in love with Ben and have memorized every detail of his face xD

"Rook certainly could think of worse ways to spend eternity. He was glad that he was sharing it with Ben, even if only one of them would get to remember."

"When Ben made no move to take the origami rose, Rook leaned forward a few inches more to tuck it behind his ear. Without his armor and gloves on, he could feel Ben's hair against his fur and had to resist the urge to stroke his jaw." When I tell you I had to stop myself from squeeing here. Oh man.

"Ben turned pink, eyes widening at the gesture as Rook's intentions sank in. His lips formed a silent "oh" HE HAD AN 'OH' MOMENT AAAAA!!! Good or bad, is there anything more satisfying than Oh Moments? no. no there is not

"Rook took a step back, even though he wanted to be closer." Excuse me miss?? How do you make the simple act of moving out of the way give me feels????

Paradox's dialogue is on point, I am 100% reading it in his voice!! And by that I don't mean the rest of the dialogue is not on point ofc, it's all great, sfjjhfdk

"though Rook doubted that the man actually had a doctorate" get his ass

""At first, I wasn't planning to speak to anyone at all," Paradox admitted. "I was simply going to end this timeline and move on. But you're close to Ben— closer than you should be, even— and I must confess to a certain level of, well… personal curiosity." For all the meta talk about how Rook isn't cosmically significant and how this timeloop has nothing to with him... it's oddly satisfying to know he's the reason the loop hasn't been ended yet. Even if the reason is less "your existence matters" and more "your existence is curious". Also, Paradox being able to just erase entire timelines is terrifying and I love him existing as some kind of eldritch being who views people as ants.

NO WATCH BEN CAMEO AAAA

"To demonstrate, Paradox snapped off the end of one branch. Everything that came before still existed, but there was nothing in the future, and there never would be again. Rook tried to imagine time just stopping and couldn't." This makes so much sense!! I feel silly for not catching on earlier, but then again it's been a while since I watched those episodes :3 But god, this is a really good explanation and suddenly the Eternity ending (or what I assume it revolves around) seems disturbingly likely o.o

""No, Ben can't be dead. He isn't supposed to die. Why—?"" THE CONTRACTION, I'M-

"Rook stared into Paradox's eyes and saw the endless march into infinity. He saw nothing at all." For some reason this really drives home how... idk, I keep repeating myself, but I really have no better word for it. Paradox is a terrifying eldritch creature. I imagine his eyes, matte and empty like shark eyes now. Dreadful.

"He was seconds away from launching himself forward and decking Paradox in the face." He should've :/

I always get a little bit of second hand embarassment when a character bares their soul like this, but it is a really good speech. However much I may dunk on Ben, Rook is right, he really is just a good person who does good things. And who can live up to something as simple as that?

And then the ending. If you hadn't been generous enough to share the date for tge next chapter I might drive myself mad with that "we need to talk" xD

Gah, I loved this chapter!!! So satisfying in so many ways :DDD

[mithranqueersmusings]

I Think I'll Love You Too II

Chapter: 2/?

Rating: U

Summary: George and Ringo have been going out officially for a couple of months. Ringo anticipated that dating a stripper would be complicated, but he didn't understand exactly how complicated it would be.

Tags: Modern AU, Established Relationship

Pairing: George Harrison/Ringo Starr (Background McLennon)

AO3 link here / Fic masterlist here

The following clean-up from their nocturnal experiment was far from easy, the wax seemed to crumble into tiny pieces and was determined to cover each inch of the carpet. George was insistent on doing most of the work, a struggle of manners ensued in which Ringo was adamant that he should help but eventually gave in and took up George's offer to relax in the bath.

Soaking in the warm water, Ringo's mind began to wander to their first official date. It seemed like such a long time ago now, although it had only been a couple of months at the most. Ringo could vividly picture arriving at George's house for the first time and picking him up for dinner, bruises still dotted across George's pale skin from the somewhat embarrassing but retrospectively rather comical fall at the club. Ringo had struggled to figure out the best place to take George, unfortunately the only advice available was John's.

"He's a vegetarian." Ringo emphasised for the fourth time, John had once again offered up a meat-only establishment.

"Oh, well you could've told me sooner." John scoffed, sometimes Ringo couldn't tell whether he was joking or truly that oblivious.

"What about sushi? That can be veggie, right?" Ringo was fiddling with a bouquet of flowers that had been left on John's kitchen counter, a small card had the name 'Paul' written on it, punctuated with a kiss.

"Sure." John offered "You could always, and hear me out, ask where he wants to go."

Ringo rolled his eyes "Great advice John, thanks. What if he doesn't know either?"

"Then you're both helpless and you belong together."

In the end Ringo had settled on sushi, which only calmed his panic somewhat because he still had to find which sushi place was best. He'd forgotten all about how stressful dating could be, and it'd been a long time since he'd been a proper date. Eventually he settled on a fairly affordable place that wasn't too far from his house, he felt rather silly calling up to make a reservation an hour in advance but he didn't want to risk embarrassing himself by not having a table booked.

This struggle with the restaurant left Ringo only an hour to get himself looking presentable for the date, his closet was emptied onto the floor and bed as he rummaged around for something suitable. He felt like making more of an effort than usual, this was one date he didn't want to screw up, especially knowing how fashionable George was likely to look. In the end he settled on a paisley blazer, it had been a gift from John years ago and had hardly been worn, and a black shirt underneath which he experimented with the buttons of.

He left himself just enough time to brush his teeth, sort out his hair and tidy the room as quickly as he possibly could. Hurrying over to George's in the car, he'd almost forgotten to be nervous about the date itself. Almost forgotten, because as soon as he knocked on George's door Ringo felt a wave of dread washing over him. He hadn't even thought of any conversation starters, or what he was going to order at the restaurant. As he waited for an answer, the dread only festered further. Yet once the door finally opened, revealing George draped in a decorative kimono, all fear subsided.

"Hi." Ringo spoke, suddenly sheepish.

"Hey." George replied with a grin, stepping out onto the street and locking the door behind him.

The two of them looked at one another for a few moments, eyes tracing from head to feet with no words being said. George was wearing makeup: his eyes darkened with liner and mascara, his gaunt cheekbones sparkling with highlight and his lips painted a tempting shade of red. Ringo could see that he'd tried to use foundation to cover over the bruises on his face but it wasn't entirely successful, not that it mattered.

"You look great." Ringo managed to get out without stumbling over his words as they walked over to his car.

"Thanks, so do you." George responded but Ringo supposed he was only trying to be polite.

Passing a shop window, Ringo stole a glance at the reflection and found himself presently surprised at how good the two of them looked together. Ringo was even beginning to believe George's compliment, a surge of confidence arising merely from being stood next to George. He'd anticipated that George would only make him look worse, but there was something complimentary in how the two of them were dressed. It was a small boost that Ringo needed to quash his nerves, he was determined to not ruin the night just because he was feeling anxious.

"So... Where are we headed?" George asked, stretching his legs out in front of him.

"Sushi." Ringo replied more curtly than intended "Is that alright?"

"I love sushi." George answered cheerily.

"What a relief." Ringo chuckled "I'm not gonna lie I was struggling to find a place to eat, with you being a vegetarian and all."

George paused for a moment "You remembered that?"

"Of course I did." Ringo panicked for a moment, afraid he'd said the wrong thing and given too much away but the smile that spread across George's painted lips calmed him back down.

It didn't take them long to arrive at the restaurant, it was rather busy but not so much that it would become uncomfortable. Ringo still couldn't believe his luck, that he'd actually been able to get a date with George. Looking back on how their relationship started, it was strange to consider that they'd end up here.

"Is your face alright?" Ringo asked when they'd been seated, it was hard to not notice the swelling on George's lip.

"Oh yeah, it's fine." George provided evidence with a genuine smile "I've had way worse, don't worry."

"You fall over a lot then?" Ringo joked, looking down at the menu and feeling a little intimidated by the amount of choice.

"Only when I know you're there to catch me." George winked "No, I've had my fair share of scraps here and there. That's just life, isn't it?"

Ringo chuckled "Not in my line of work, no."

"Don't be so modest, I haven't forgotten when you beat up that creep in the club." George was studying his menu with far less fear than Ringo "Any idea what you're gonna order?"

"Haven't the faintest." Ringo read the same words over and over again as though it'd help him understand "What about you?"

"Hmm, I think so." George answered with a confidence Ringo envied "Want some help?"

"Please." Ringo smiled sheepishly, laying down his menu and looking to George for assistance.

The date was hardly going as Ringo had anticipated, but while George went through dishes on the menu with a clear expertise Ringo couldn't stop himself from smiling. The intimidating Spike was describing in detail the difference between maki and temaki with such delicacy, it was such a strange moment of realisation for Ringo that made him truly understand how far they'd come. Ringo realised too late that he hadn't been listening to what George had been saying but it didn't matter in the end because George ordered for the both of them.

"So..." George began, drink in hand.

"So." Ringo repeated with a raised eyebrow.

"How long have you been waiting to take me out?" George asked with a knowing smile.

Ringo half expected this line of questioning to begin, he only wished he'd prepared some answers "Does it make a difference?"

"I'm just curious." George leaned in a little closer, a devilish look in his eyes.

Ringo sighed "Now I'm debating whether to lie so you don't think I'm a loser."

"I wouldn't bother with that, I already know you're a loser Ringo." George spoke deadpan, staring without expression then burst into laughter "I'm sorry, I had to."

"And that's meant to encourage me to be honest?" Ringo laughed nervously.

"Come on, tell me." George sounded almost whiny, a tone Ringo had heard before but never in regular conversation.

"Fine, fine." Ringo conceded after drinking his beer "In all honesty it was probably the first time I saw you... Not that I thought you'd ever say yes, of course."

The answer seemed to satisfy whatever itch George had "Really? I'm that good looking am I?"

"Not to sound cliché, but have you seen you? I don't think I've seen anyone more attractive." Ringo spoke somewhat seriously.

George blushed just slightly, having to look away from Ringo's intense gaze "You're sweet. But why were you even in the strip club in the first place? You didn't seem too at home, at least from what I remember."

Ringo felt rather complimented that George even remembered how he'd been acting all that time ago, he'd always supposed he hadn't left much of an impression at all and whatever he did was surely negative.

"John dragged me there. He, uh-" Ringo stopped himself before saying too much "Thought it'd cheer me up."

George squinted his eyes in suspicion "What aren't you telling me?"

Ringo paused, debating the best verbal exit strategy but the good beer and even better food was slowing his thought processes "Uh... Nothing?"

"Oh come on." George kicked Ringo lightly under the table "You think I'm gonna judge you?"

"Well, yes... But fine, I'll tell you." Ringo chuckled, pausing for an anticipatory breath "I'd been going through a bit of a... dry spell, so to speak."

A grin spread across George's face "Seriously?"

"Seriously." Ringo repeated, hiding his shame behind his beer.

"I find it hard to believe that you were having a 'dry spell'." George rested his hand on Ringo's own, his finger tracing around the metal of the rings.

"Well, I'd, er- I'd still be having one if you hadn't come along." Ringo stammered "Shit, that sounds really pathetic, doesn't it?"

"Just a tad." George smiled reassuringly "I'm just glad I could be of service."

"For a while you were making it worse, actually." Ringo had finished his beer and was itching for another "With all my pent up frustration and then I see you undressing on that stage, I nearly lost my mind."

George chuckled, looking rather proud of himself "I can only apologise for being so tempting." He emphasised the word by running his tongue over his top lip onto his sharp canine tooth.

"No need to apologise, it's your job after all." Ringo tried to remain composed "And in the end it all worked out so... No harm done."

"My aching body disagrees." George pouted his still somewhat swollen lip.

"Well... That was your own fault really." Ringo joked, finally catching the waiter's eye so that he could order another beer.

"You're right, you're right." George's hand was still pressed against Ringo's "Hopefully from here on out all the pain will be consensual."

Ringo blushed "Hopefully."

Later that night it was clear that there was no longer any need to be hopeful.

[dolphin-enthusiast]

hello my beloved morgy!! i'm alive and well! 💌💘💞 awaaaaa,, i missed you a lot darling!! even if its only been a few days, life is way more dull when i can't check in with you here :( i hope you've been doing well during that short absence of mine, and if things aren't going so swell, i'm here to hopefully cheer you up dear!! 😊❤ (1/10)

"i am doing much better now and i'm fully recovered, and thank goodness i didn't wind up hospitalized again!!! apparently my narcolepsy fired up crazily when i started to fall ill, and that ended up confining me to my bed, which was absolutely horrible (especially since i couldn't talk to you 😞💕) we still don't know what the illness was, but luckily i fought it off fast thanks to my family and friend's quick thinking!! i'm much happier now that i'm here again with you 💖 (2/10)

and oh gosh, you finished sbr??? ahhh that makes me so happy and so sad at the same time!! it's actually my favorite part along with vento aureo, and don't worry love, i want gyro back too, so you're not alone on that 😖 oh, and all those picrews?? lovely as always!! i love how much creative liberty you all take,, it astounds me!! and it shocks me that you all remember such miniscule details about me,, like the fact that i love the bahamas, ahhhh i'm so flattered by all of it!! (3/10)

i can never choose a favorite creative piece that any of you send in, i just love them all so much!! once again, thank you for all of your hard work and effort, i adore it each and every day 💕💕💕💕 thank you all for your well wishes and love!! my sister told me that apparently you mentioned something about people freaking out over me,, oh my! that surprised me a lot,, so any of those anons who read this, please don't worry about me!! (5?/10)

i assure you i'm okay, i just have a bad immune system and get sick easily, that's all!! but all of your concern means so much to me, thanks a million 💞 before i got sick, some friends came over since they wanted me to teach them how to ballroom dance for some reason,, it was very sudden but i was happy to do so nonetheless! i haven't danced like that in a long while, so it was quite exciting for me,, i am a dancer after all! (6/10)

i taught them how to do a basic waltz and tango,, they seemed to enjoy it a lot!! i suppose i'm a dance teacher now hehe 💞 oh, and last night, a friend slept over and we spent the night watching different televised comedy shows! stand-up has always held such a special place in my heart,, because when i was very small, i wanted to be a famous comedian for a long period of time,, silly isn't it? (7/10)

i would watch all of these different comedians perform and look up to them as inspirations,, i even wrote a few comedy routines to perform in front of my family when i was 4,, i guess i was really into it! now that i'm older, my aspirations have changed, but i still love to occasionally sit in comedy clubs with a glass of whatever i want, ahhh,, it never gets old ✨ (8/10)

ooh, and my mom and i were finally able to catch the escapee bunny from a while ago!! we brought him back to the garden, and he wouldn't stop following me around! i named him toffee, and he kept trying to jump on me for cuddles,, awaaaa it was so cute!! i can't wait to see him again 🌺 (9/10)

ahhh there's still so much i need to talk about, but its getting late here!! so i'll just continue on tomorrow then hm? goodnight amore, sleep well for me!! sweet dreams! 🌹 - love always, your amorous waifu xoxo 💕💖💘💌💋🌹 ps: you know morgy, like that one anon said, you also live in my brain rent free 💗 also, you are way too nice to me for your own good morgy dear, i swear, i can't stop smiling whenever you pull your sweet one-liners <3 (10/10)"

Im very glad to see ur back and fine darling, i acc forgot to answer all the anons but trust me my inbox was literally b o m b a r d e d w ppl sayin they miss u and wishing that u'd get better soon😳😳😳 if anything i'd say the fact that u didnt end up in the hospital again is very lucky and relieving

I myself cant believe i finally finished sbr yesterday and goddamn dat ending was far from pleasant🤡🤡 imma just say shame on araki for killin off all my homies....no more homies all my homies are D E A D (as a matter of fact my fav is p4 but i think u know that already)

And wow u as a comedian? Ngl i did not see it coming but thats oddly cute?? Like just imagining a tiny waifu creating comedy skits and performing them is really amazing for whatever reason jdhshsn i still see u more on the v o g u e side of things doe👁️👁️

Even if u were hella sicc at least u managed to snatch wigs and teach ppl how to dance (cant relate watch me step on everyone's toes within a 10 mile radius, mine included) a n d summoned ur disney princess powers again in order to get that rabbit😩😩😩 i also love pullin one liners bc really ur reactions are g o l d darling and thats just how it is on this bitch of an earth👀👁️👀👁️

[spirit-of-vengeance]

7th ROTG anniversary. Time to get emotional.

I never written this down, but now I feel the need due to the intense nostalgia and the notice of how quickly time is fleeing. I have a tale to tell, I need to share my story about how this film changed my life. Warning: it's long.

Brief into: I believed in the Santa, Easter Bunny (I really wanted in the Toothfairy too and unfortunately never heard about Jack or Sandy) even when I was 10. (Which was considered pretty old to believe) I even got into an argument with my teacher in the 3rd grade because she said 'stop being childish, they aren't real' because I was excitedly whispering with my classmate about catching the Santa this year. A boy, who ironically looked exactly like Jack Frost began endlessly teasing me and calling me stupid for still thinking he's real. On the way back home with mom I confronted her about this, not giving up until she told me whenever he was right or not. Backed into a corner, she was forced to give up. I cried every day for weeks. The magic was ripped away from me.

Year 2012, December. I'm 11 and a victim of hardcore bullying since my whole life. Students, teachers and sometimes parents. To cheer me up, mom took me to the shopping center to watch a movie. We couldn't really decide & she saw a giant poster of North smiling at people. Her eyes lit up and excitedly said 'Let's watch that! ' I followed the direction of her finger and my face scrunched in malice "I am not watching a movie with the Santa. Its stupid. I'm a big girl, I want to watch a bloody action movie! " but she was unbending. She could bribe me into it with a large bowl of popcorn; I was still grumbling when the lights went out.

The change: first snowflakes, first notes of the piano worked like magic. I immediately shut up and wondered what actually happens here. Why is it so soothing? At the first few shots of the North Pole when North is working on the ice train, I jumped in my seat and I shit you not, I thought the Santa is actually getting murdered. My eyebrow rose higher when I realized that guy with the chainsaw and swords is the Santa. Unfortunately, I can't remember more first reactions; stress, depression, traumas really ruined my long term memory. It seems silly now, but I kept the last piece of popcorn what I was munching on during it, I still have it in a little jewel box; one of my sacred memories. The car ride back to home was quiet, I was staring out of the window my mind stirring with creativity.

Aftermath: 2013-2018; while my classmates were busy getting drunk, being a petty bitch, giving oral in the toilet, (yes. I am talking about elementary school.), getting laid, I was lost in a world of wonder. I learnt 60% of my English knowledge in 3 months with reading fanfiction. I browsed deviantart for hours and laughed my ass off at the hilarious, extremely well done fanarts.

I grew up on mostly Blackice videos I wasn't 100% aware what I'm actually seeing tho, I was exposed to gay ships from a young age and plot twist, nothing serious happened😀. My mental health wasn't shit because I saw the Bogeyman and the Winter spirit kiss.

I began talking to the Moon. I cried my pain to him. Sitting on my windowstill, debating whenever I should jump or not. My extraordinarily strong bond with my mom and this film were my only lifeline. I was making it through, in my own world. My imagination created wonderful sights, scenarios; at nights I was certain I can spot Sandy on his cloud, at Christmas North trying to push himself out of the chimney cussing, at Easter that enormous bunny running around, at winters mostly yelling at Jack 'get out of my country' because I'm a summer person, going to school on a chilly yet sunny autumn day and see Pitch standing on the edge of the misty forest.

I began to change, respond to the pressure from my bullies. My personality began to morph. See the wonder in everything; like North. There's hope and spite, don't dare to give up; like Bunny. Awaken and enjoy creativity; like Sandy. Shit on the rules and have a damn good time no matter what; like Jack. Cherish memories and friends; like Tooth. Be ruthless and stand up from the most brutal blows; like Pitch. And never forget, the Moon will always be there even when he's an antisocial dick and says nothing.

My aim, my dream was to write the sequel. When I was done I wanted to send it to William Joyce. I wrote 200+ pages, but unfortunately in Hungarian. I still don't know why I stopped, why I abandoned that plan.

I was looking for ROTG posters because I wanted to email them to my friend to show what I've been obsessed with. I was just lazily staring at a Pitch poster, realizing his V neck actually never closes - then my eyes crossed the date: November 21. I let out an ungodly shriek of disbelief and mirth. Mom rushed into the living room with terror and met with the sight of me screaming in ecstasy "RISE OF THE GUARDIANS CAME OUT ON MY BIRTHDAY!!!! "

Around 2016 I became really interested in this roleplay stuff and oh god I was terrible. Cindy Flame then was an always angry Mary sue but after years of practice, expanding she is a completely built, extremely complex character, flawed, strong, tragic and ruthless; divine yet oh so human. So I was making friends online, most of them failed, I think one of them committed suicide but that belongs to an another story.

I have been lurking Tumblr for 3 years? More? Because I had no idea how this site worked and I was shy because I thought my writing is not good enough I realize now I felt right. I admired blogs from afar, read their writing and falling deeper and deeper into this fandom.

Nearing present day: I actually came to Tumblr to pursue a friend of mine. I was borderline desperate because I've thought they are one of the last one in the fandom and it scared me. The fun thing is, I actually never interacted with them after making this blog. So I break this two year old spell and hi @kingofnxghtmares it's me, Jasmine😊 You don't have to answer/interact/or anything, I wanted to get everything off my chest and finally tagging you just felt right.

So now I'm on Tumblr. And I love every second it. I've found amazing friends, insanely dynamic muses, crack threads, angst, the chance to expand my muse even more and where I belong. So there I am, wondering where 7 years went. I've grown up (somewhat), and I'm glad I was protected from the 'disaster teenage years ', drinking, heartbreak, drugs, etc instead I grew up in a magical world interviewed with reality so closely; it became an escape place when reality became too heavy.

About ROTG & finale: masterpiece. The animation is insanely lifelike yet fantasy. Every tiny, microscopic detail is perfect, the characters, the storyline, the atmosphere original and capturing. The music is gut wrenching. Everything is absolutely, 200% on point. I don't think there ever will be an animated movie which can be better than Rise of the Guardians animation and/or storywise. No 'love is the answer ' movies can ever come close this iconic masterpiece no matter how they rip it off looking at Frozen 2😒

I watched it today (I have it in Spanish as well and I only can encourage everyone to watch it, the Spanish voice acting is, 100% in my opinion Pitch's bested Jude Law, damn that rich hiss of malice was incredible ) on my 18th birthday while cuddling with mom, laughing and heavy with nostalgia. I think I will remain in this fandom for a very long time, I don't think I would ever be able to let it go due to my deep emotional ties. I would like to thank everyone who were present in making this film, the artists who still keep this fandom alive, all of my friends, roleplay partners; thank you for brightening my childhood, giving me purpose and a place to belong.

To my all of my friends:

@paintbrushtheelf @muerte-rojo @nightmarinqs @mr-mansnoozie @gatekeeperoftheunderworld @50shadesofpitchblack @flossinspector @magicmiyeh

@black-equals-mysoul @nxghtlight @lindzem

I love all of you,

Jasmine

[mysmesomefluff]

Merry Christmas! I'm so excited for your choi-mas collab :D Would you mind writing Saeran with MC who doesn't feel happy during Christmas or doesn't like to celebrate it, maybe due to bad memories of them in the past? (Maybe this is asking too much, but please don't make the reason like she's always been alone on Christmas :')) afrfhikfegifvfvhtf I'm sorry if I'm too specific or too demanding;;;; feel free to ignore the details;;;

A long wisp of white mist escapes you as you heave a long sigh while walking aimlessly down the pavement of the quiet park. You’re grateful for the fact that there aren’t that many people around. With your hands stuffed in the pockets of your coat, you take slow steps down the path, listening to the sound of your boots crunching on snow when you stray closer to the edge of the pavement.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it. It’s probably more funny pictures being sent to the messenger. There’s a Christmas party being held at Jumin’s villa for the RFA members at the moment, and from what MC has told you, the party games had been planned by Saeyoung, and the result of that has been quite disastrous for Zen in particular. Saeyoung took a lot of pictures of the handsome actor wearing cat ears and sneezing so hard he looks like his nose might fly off soon. The host wasn’t spared either – Jumin got a beard of whipped cream and was forced to wear a santa hat and costume, though he kept his necktie on. It made for a rather strange-looking santa get-up, but you suppose it does suit him somewhat.

There were a couple of pictures of Saeran sent to the messenger as well, mainly of him holding plate after plate stacked with a mountain of Christmas cookies and treats.

A tiny smile lifts your lips briefly at the pictures of your silly boyfriend that are still fresh in your mind. At least he’s having fun. You’re glad that he’s finally getting the chance to make up for all the years he lost and all the Christmases he had spent alone. The happy gleam in his eyes that you spotted in the photos surfaces in your mind, stirring a pleasant warmth in your chest.

A strong, cold gust of wind that hits you in the face then brings you back to reality.

The dull ache that has been there the past three days returns, settling like a heavy weight on your heart. The small smile on your face vanishes just like that, and you close your eyes, biting down on your lip as your feet shuffle to a stop.

Christmas – it’s the happiest time of the year, a time for laughter and joy, the most wonderful time of the year.

Not for you, it isn’t. Not since two years ago, at least.

Your hand comes up to touch the heart-shaped locket resting over your collarbone. Memories of silver hair fluttering in the warm summer breeze, of her wrinkly eyes shrinking as she smiled happily at you, and of the skin on her forehead creasing in worry whenever you looked tired and weary flood your mind like a gushing river. The ache inside you worsens to the point that it’s suffocating, and you have to swallow the painful lump forming in your throat before moisture starts building in your eyes again.

You continue down the lonely road, eyes downcast and trying to take your thoughts elsewhere, but that doesn’t work. This place is filled with so many sweet, warm memories of her. The children’s playground to your right that you just walked past? You used to play in that sandbox, and she used to chide you for rubbing sand on your face with your dirty hands. The swing just next to it? You would plead with her to keep pushing you while you were on the swing, and she would comply, too soft when it came to your cute round eyes. And this path. She would take your hand in hers as you walked home together, and she would remind you to be careful whenever you skipped and jumped about, and would squeeze your hand in hers more tightly to keep you from falling.

Maybe coming here wasn’t the best idea. You just didn’t want to stay cooped up in your apartment, but out here, it’s hard when you have to hold back your tears and when you’re too drained to dig through your bag for a pack of tissues you’re not sure you even brought.

You come to a stop, figuring you should probably just head home for the night. You just want to go back to your bed, to crawl under your comforter and cry yourself to sleep. Sleep means not thinking, and you want to stop thinking and remembering for a while.

You turn around to walk in the direction of your home, but the moment you do, you hear someone call your name. Someone all too familiar.

Your head snaps up towards the source of the voice, and you’re surprised to see him there, standing a distance away from you beneath the fairy lights strung around the trees by the side of the path, his unruly red hair and scarf flying in the winter breeze.

You feel your heart sink. He shouldn’t be here. He should be at the party, not here, and not now, when you’re in this sort of state, lips quivering and vision blurring with hot tears as each second drags on. You look away and start walking away from him, ignoring the concern in his voice when he calls your name again.

Your pace quickens when you hear his footsteps becoming faster. “What are you doing?” he demands, chasing after you. “Are you running away from me?”

“Leave me alone, Saeran. You shouldn’t even be here. You should be at the party,” you reply over your shoulder, loud enough that he won’t hear the shaking of your voice.

“I got tired and left early.” His footsteps are louder now, and before you can hasten your walking pace you feel his hand latch onto your wrist, stopping you and spinning you around to face him. Resolutely, you keep your face down. “You said you weren’t feeling well so I went to check up on you,” he explains, grip on your wrist tightening. “But you weren’t in your apartment so I panicked and started looking for you. What are you doing out here while you’re running a fever?”

“I’m not,” you reply in a vexed tone, wrenching your wrist from his hold. “I feel fine.”

There’s a beat of silence, before he places a hand on your forehead, and another on his own to check. You don’t even have the energy to protest. Once he’s done ascertaining that you’re physically well, you expect him to let it go and you’re about to ask him to go home and get some rest when he states, “You don’t have a fever, but you are definitely not okay.”

He doesn’t ask why, but the unspoken question lingers in the air and space between you two. Nevertheless, you’re grateful that he doesn’t ask. You can only manage a meek, slight nod at his statement, since there’s no point trying to argue otherwise. Saeran knows you, his eyes never missing a detail when it comes to you. At times like these, you find a small of yourself rather resenting that observant quality of his.

“I’ll walk you home.” He settles for that, taking your hand in his and walking by your side.

A comfortable silence hangs in the air, and you relish in the comforting squeeze that he offers your hand, the warmth of his body next to yours, and the sound of another pair of footsteps apart from yours. You wanted to be alone, but he’ll always be an exception to that. His presence alone is like a thick, warm blanket draped over your shoulders, and you find yourself absently sticking closer to him.

“Thanks,” you whisper, your free hand coming up to brush the tips of your fingers against your locket. Holding his hand and walking like this… It reminds you a lot of the walks you used to take with her, your beloved grandmother. You’ve missed that so much, but more than anything else, you miss her. You miss being able to throw your arms around her and cry into her shoulder when you’re having the worst day, you miss being able to hold her hand and walk down the long stretch of road while talking about anything and everything under the sun.

You miss being able to spend Christmas with her, picking out presents for her, eating her famous roast turkey with the rest of the family and sitting with her by the fireplace when she’s too tired to play games with the younger ones.

Christmas. It’ll never be the same without her.

You sense his questioning gaze on you when your shoulders start to shake, but he doesn’t utter a word. It’s only when you begin to sob that he comes to a stop so he can pull you into his arms and rest your head against his shoulder so you can cry freely into his coat without having to worry about others seeing your face.

He runs his fingers down your hair, gently stroking your head and holding you close to his chest. It only reminds you even more of how she would hold you and stroke your head when you cried.

“I miss her so much,” you sob, fingers digging into the material of his winter coat. “It hurts so bad, Saeran.”

His arms wrap tighter around you, squeezing you tightly. “I know. It was your grandmother’s death anniversary a week ago, right? I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for you.”

You pause, still choking on sobs but you manage to pull away to look at his grim expression and ask, “H-How did you know?”

“You started being distant since last week, but I was afraid to ask so I went to check it up, and I just… found out.”

You’re not sure what to think about him digging into your personal information, but it’s not exactly the first time Saeran has done this and it wasn’t as if you were going out of your way to hide it from him – you didn’t want to ruin Christmas for him, that was all. Right now, you can’t find it in yourself to care about that, and you wrap your arms around him, nestling your head in the crook of his neck.

“Are you mad?” he asks hesitantly.

“Not really,” you reply, still sniffling but feeling a little better already. “You could have just asked though.”

“You didn’t seem like you would tell me even if I asked.” Fair enough.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he questions softly.

“I didn’t want to ruin Christmas for you. You deserve a happy Christmas, for the first time in your life since coming back to Saeyoung and MC.”

“It’s not a happy Christmas without you,” he mutters. “Especially not when you’re alone. I know how much it sucks to be alone during Christmas, especially when you’re hurting, and I never want you to feel that way.”

“Saeran…”

“We’ll go to your house, watch some shows if you’re feeling up to it and then we’ll sleep this off. I’ll make you hot chocolate too. Okay?”

That brings a genuine smile to your lips. You nod and hum. “Sounds good.”

“Good. Let’s go, then.” He carefully brushes your tears away when you pull away from him, and then takes your hand in his once more before heading down the path back home.

A/N: This ended up dragging on and on… T_T Hopefully this was okay. Merry Christmas to you anon :) 

[the-sapphire-general]

My Thoughts and Feelings About Sephiroth (Part 2)

There was originally going to be just one part about what I think and feel about Sephiroth, but it turns out I have more to say than I thought I did. You can say I'm passionate about Sephiroth. Not a day goes by without at least thinking about him several times. Lol Anyway, if you haven't read my previous post, here's the link because I will describe things I have said in the first part in more detail.

My Thoughts and Feelings About Sephiroth (Part 1)

As I mentioned before, I can identify with Sephiroth. At first I didn't consider him an idol considering how different we are, but I realized about the similarities we have, even if those similarities can be different. I hate mentioning my former friend, but she used to be someone that took advantage of me, a lot of the time without my knowledge. So I know how Sephiroth must have felt after discovering that everyone lied to him about his origins. Now his situation was extreme compared to mine, but the key thing is we were both betrayed somehow. It's difficult to handle, and we both took it hard, with Sephiroth taking it farther than me. Betrayal, whether big or small or somewhere in between the two, isn't pleasant, especially if those who betray you are people you thought you could trust. I know what that's like, and it's not an easy thing to just brush off as if it were nothing.

To further prove how Sephiroth and I are similar is our personality traits. For starters, we are both quiet. Now it's hard to tell online if someone is shy or outgoing, but believe me, I'm one quiet girl. I'm real timid in real life. I don't think Sephiroth was timid, and I bet he was just sheltered growing up. Be honest. Hojo sucked as a father, and Sephiroth wasn't treated like a human being. So Sephiroth may have been socially awkward, which can appear as timidity or coldness. I'm timid and I can get a bit anxious, but I hide it really well. I'm not a social butterfly, and neither is Sephiroth, but that doesn't mean I'm purposefully ignoring others. It's just I'm not good at socializing. I am socially awkward myself and people have to get to know me to know the real me. Others saw Sephiroth as cold and distant, but they didn't even try to get to know him. Angeal Hewley and Genesis Rhapsodos saw past this and became his friends. Sadly others see me as cold and distant as well, and to be honest it hurts. I bet it bothered Sephiroth as well. Or maybe he didn't care, I don't know. I'll believe that it did bother him. Of course, despite our shortcomings, Sephiroth and I do have friends (well, Sephiroth used to have friends). I may struggle to be social, but I can bond with others. I mean, hello! I have my boyfriend, his friends, my family, my own friends, and my online friends. Sephiroth had a few close friends, but at least it's something. Angeal and Genesis. I swear, if things didn't get so screwed up, they would have been best friends forever. Heck, Zack could have been a great friend to Sephiroth if he was given the opportunity. In a way, they could have helped Sephiroth back in Nibelheim, but the damage is already done.. What I'm trying to say is I understand this real well because I've been there. It just makes me want to give Sephiroth a hug and possibly a kiss to comfort him and let him know that I care. Though he might be annoyed by my affection. Lol

The next similarity we have is we're intelligent. Unfortunately a lot of people don't see me as intelligent, but Sephiroth's intelligence is what has me striving to prove to others that I am all while improving my own intelligence. They just see me as a girl with average intelligence and I was once accused of being an idiot. I wonder if Sephiroth had naysayers always doubting him. Looks can be deceiving. I'm not what others claim that I am, and it's annoying. This brings me to my next point. When Sephiroth was still part of SOLDIER, others might have perceived him as so many things, which includes being cold and distant and such. I've said this already, but this isn't just assuming that someone is cold or timid or whatever personality trait. It's about others assuming things about others that may be false. Sephiroth didn't consider himself to be better than everyone else (prior to Nibelheim of course). Heck, he didn't even show interest in fame to the point that he allowed Genesis to take it, possibly unaware that he was jealous of him. Maybe he tried to do that to ease his jealousy. Though Genesis should have handled his jealousy better. Before you assume anything about a person, either get to know the person or keep it to yourself until you see who they really are. Otherwise, it can be damaging to them. It was to Sephiroth. Something tells me all those soldiers had mixed opinions about Sephiroth, many of them potentially formed out of false assumptions and simple ignorance. Okay I'm getting too deep into this due to my own personal experiences, so I will switch to the next similarity.

Sephiroth and I hate certain people. How else can I explain my former friend that I have mentioned plus other people? Although Sephiroth took it to an extreme and hates everyone, I can still relate. Now it doesn't mean I will be as destructive and cruel as Sephiroth, but I can relate. Everyone at ShinRa treated Sephiroth like an experiment without his knowledge. He was never told about his origins. He never knew his parents. Then again, never finding out that Hojo is his father is a blessing (unless he somehow found out already?). He was deceived and manipulated ever since the day he was born. Correction, he was manipulated BEFORE he was born! He has the right to hate those who mistreated him. However, that doesn't justify any of the horrible things he did. Now my case is nothing compared to Sephiroth's since I was simply deceived by certain people, but my dislike for them is reasonable. Seriously, who would be able to let someone pretend to be your friend only to harm you emotionally and verbally, try to control you, spread lies about you, and basically destroy you? That's what my former friend did, and I hate her. All the bullies I've encountered throughout school? I hate them too. But that doesn't mean I would try to hurt them back because that wouldn't make me any better than them. I was given one opportunity to tell off my former friend online after I cut off contact for years. I told her to get well because she was sick, but she was getting better. She insulted me, not directly, but she did imply it. I was furious. But what did I do? I kept my mouth shut, told her to have a good life, and bid her farewell. Telling her everything that she made me feel and how much I loathe her would have only caused trouble, and the last thing I need is for her to stalk me online or try to pick a fight with me since she's freaking insane. She got angry over tiny things, physically assaulted someone just for being rude, as in getting into a conversation between the skank and someone else. Like what the fuck?! She could have told him to wait until she was finished. She was not psychologically well in my opinion, but I'm not one to confirm it because I'm not a psychologist. I thought she had changed but I was wrong. All my suspicions I had about her have been confirmed. Everything. And I vowed to never speak to her ever again. So Sephiroth and I may have handled our hate differently, but it still counts as something we have in common. Looking back, I see Sephiroth as an extreme version of my hate, anger, and pain, making me picture what I would have been like if I had taken it too far. It's a bit terrifying for me to imagine, and I am glad that I have more good inside me.

Now the next thing is something that still affects me to this day, and it's this. Sephiroth and I have felt like we were different, that we didn't belong anywhere. Having an identity crisis isn't fun, and Sephiroth is proof of that. He's not like everyone else. He's the only one with long silver hair and green cat-like eyes, he's part-alien, he's the strongest of all, and he always felt different because of this. I feel like I'm different because I'm not as outgoing as many people, I get worried about what others think of me, I'm not as confident in myself and my talents, and people don't pay attention to a wallflower like me. So I'm trying to improve myself and find my own place where I belong. Sephiroth found his, albeit in a rather dark way, but I have yet to find myself. But I know I will soon, and I have loved ones who can help me.

With all of this that I've said so far, Sephiroth means a lot to me. He means a lot to me more than I thought, and just by typing this, I'm realizing that he's a character that I love and admire in the exact same level as Sonic the Hedgehog. And as silly as it may sound, I get defensive when others talk smack about my favorite fictional characters like Sephiroth. Why? Because he's someone that I can identify with, regardless of the myriad of contrasting characteristics that we have. Opposites attract!

Now what else I wish to talk about related to Sephiroth...Well, there's his current self. I can hear those that say he's a cruel bastard that will kill you at first glance in milliseconds. My boyfriend and his friends think so. Well, you know what? It's bullshit. If that were true, then why didn't he kill Zack, Tifa, and Cloud immediately? Why didn't he kill Cloud and his team right away during numerous points in the game (other than the fact he needed Cloud to get the Black Materia for him)? Because he's not just a one-track mindless killing machine! This may be an unpopular opinion, but really, Sephiroth doesn't go just "Kill kill kill! Stab stab stab!". You kiss him on the cheek, stab. You compliment him on his looks, stab. You try to join him in his cause, stab. You try to have small talk, STAB! It's boring, predictable, and annoying. Do you really think I would do that on my Sephiroth blog? I would have grown tired of it! I deleted the posts about this, but do you want to know how many characters, users, or whatever I've had Sephiroth kill in roleplays???........One. That's right. One, a character that a friend roleplays as here on Tumblr, in a span of....a year-and-a-half, I think? If I had followed the "logic" of Sephiroth the utterly mindless killing machine and does nothing else, I would have had him impale over 1000 characters, users, anons, etc., maybe 10,000. You get my point.

This sort of thing strips everything about Sephiroth. He's cunning, arrogant, and manipulative, so of course I would have to implement that in his interactions if I want him to harm or kill a character, for example. And in some cases, I portray Sephiroth as just being intimidating, mistrustful, and bitter towards characters. In others, he is intrigued by who he's talking to, and he shows a range of emotions (as long as they fit him). I make him multidimensional. Really, try portraying Sephiroth as just a killing machine and nothing else and see how long it takes for you to get tired of taking out tons of people's muses in split seconds. I'm sorry if this portion became somewhat of a rant but it has been bugging me. Moving on to another Sephiroth subject.

Ahhhh, the theories. I almost forgot about them. Let's see, the lab rat theory is kind of possible, but ShinRa didn't blatantly abuse him. Otherwise, Sephiroth would have had serious psychological issues prior to Nibelheim. If he had endured severe physical and psychological abuse, he wouldn't be calm and collected. Of course he was abused to a degree, but the thing is he didn't know he was abused. He had no idea ShinRa used him as just a tool. That's clever of them. Cruel and despicable, but clever. They had to be discreet or else Sephiroth would have questioned their motives early on or tried to get away from them. Sephiroth was their puppet, which does explain why he referred to Cloud as his puppet. If others manipulated him to screw him over, he will do the same back at them. Sephiroth basically gave them a taste of their own medicine. Unfortunately, he takes it out on the whole planet. Think about it, though. He was deceived and manipulated by others, and this is his way of showing others that he will never allow himself to be controlled by anyone anymore. And this brings me to the next theory.

Jenova possessing Sephiroth is a famous theory and I don't blame people for believing and supporting this. I confess that I used to believe this theory as well, but as I looked back at the events of Crisis Core and Final Fantasy 7, it doesn't make sense. First of all, after being used by an evil company his entire life, why would Sephiroth allow himself to be controlled by an alien that arrived to the Planet millennia ago? Yes, he was at the library at ShinRa Manor for a week reading endlessly about his origins without sleeping, and possibly eating or drinking anything. Obviously that must have left him vulnerable, but I don't believe Sephiroth would have been brainwashed easily. He was controlled by ShinRa, and he wasn't going to allow anyone else to control him again, especially Jenova. Sephiroth was the one who controlled her, not the other way around. If Jenova had gained control, that would undermine Sephiroth's reputation as the main antagonist of FF7. He is the villain, the real villain, not Jenova. Sephiroth burned down Nibelheim. Sephiroth killed many people. Sephiroth killed Aeris (or Aerith) in FF7. Sephiroth summoned Meteor to injure the Planet in order to absorb its life stream to become a god. Sephiroth created the Remnants to achieve his goal to claim the Planet as his own, become an unstoppable god, and bring despair to those who stand in his way. It's all Sephiroth. And besides, Jenova is a parasite. I doubt she would have planned all of this before trying to destroy the planet. I also doubt she's even alive. Sephiroth is the master of his ongoing desire to take back what he believes is his planet, conquer it as a god, and destroy anyone who stands in his way.

Alright then, this post has gone long enough. Now I'm not sure if this is all I have to say about Sephiroth. Well, I assumed that I did’t have much else to say in the previous post, and look! Here's another one. I like doing this sort of thing. It makes me feel good and I just love Sephiroth. I could go on forever if I want, but I’ll end it here. I hope you liked this and if there’s any more things that I haven’t said here, I’ll make sure to do a third part.

[thetraumadiaries]

My experience with MDMA & PTSD

So let me tell you about the first time I made a major breakthrough with my PTSD.

It's the first time I felt like I was capable of healing. What I'm about to say may be controversial, and perhaps not all of you will respect my decision, nor do the same thing I did. In fact, I am not trying to encourage you to do what I did, but I just want to come out and be honest about how I felt.

Anyway.

For years, I've been the kind of girl that's very "against" drugs. Well, I didn't have a problem with people that chose to do it, but I could see their suffering and reliance and I did not want to become weakened by a substance, or reliant on it. I am an incredibly resilient person. Heck, I don't even take painkillers when I need them. But for a while, the idea of drugs scared me because of their dangers. Also, the social stigma made me really adamant on staying away from them.

Of course, when I turned 20 I did try marijuana for the first time. Tbh, I didn't even really enjoy it. It made me ridiculous, silly and paranoid. It enhanced the overthinking parts of my brain. A few years later, I decided to try it again... this time I had sex while being high. It was actually a great experience. It was fun. But meh, it wasn't really something I cared for tbh. At the time, that was the "hardest" drug I'd ever do. I'm glad I tried it, but I vowed not to do anything else.

You see, my mother has paranoid schizophrenia. We aren't sure what triggered it in her... perhaps it was having me after 3 miscarriages before. I wasn't meant to be born.

Maybe it was the way my uncle treated her as a child, and how horrible people were to her. Maybe it was her own traumatic experiences time after time.

Either way, I grew up with a crazy mom.

It was hard. I won't explain the details of that today, but of course, you can understand my hesitation and fear of drugs after growing up with a mother like that. No, my mom never did any drugs. But knowing that schizophrenia COULD be hereditary and that drugs CAN trigger it, means it is a very real risk for me.

After university and postgrad, I had a friend who tried to talk to me about drug therapy. I was very open about what I was going through on Instagram & Facebook. But I kept explaining to him that I have a very good reason not try any substances. He was telling me how MDMA research had found breakthroughs with PTSD. This is when I had just started suspecting that I had a severe case of PTSD, but wasn't yet diagnosed. Honestly, when he was talking to me, I didn't even know what MDMA was. I didn't know what ecstacy really did to people. Or meth. Or cocaine. Or heroine. I just knew that they could ruin people's lives - and that the risk to me is the greatest. So I brushed him off, educated him on my schizophrenic parent, and was adamantly against was he was saying.

But I have to say, I think that knowledge haunted me subconsciously.

Half a year later, I made some new friends when I was on my way to go clubbing with my girls. I really like to dance, and these new friends - two guys - they noticed that. They told me that I should come raving with them, and that I'd really enjoy it. I honestly knew nothing about raves, but being a metalhead for so long, I've also been exposed to harder styles of EDM and was interested in it. I decided to go with them. They offered me M but I declined, of course. I didn't explain my reasons right away, but they respected me for it & it was a great time.

I wanted to go again to another event. I was also interested in the guy that invited me. But he told me something that was strange. He said he doesn't feel comfortable around sober people when he raves. I thought that was some weird af guilt-tripping bullshit tbh. So I explained my reason and TBH, I always have a good time sober. I'm just as happy and fun and crazy as everyone else! But sure, whatever...maybe I didn't "tap into" whatever they did.

So we all went to another event. It was good. But I started growing more and more curious. My PTSD was actually getting worse. A few months before these raves, I got raped.. and I hadn't healed properly. I even lost my job because I wasn't able to focus on both a criminal investigation, how I felt and doing my daily tasks. I didn't even look for a new job in this time. I was so lost, going through so much. I think I really just wanted someone to talk to who wouldn't blame me or question the logic of what happened. But heck, I couldn't afford therapy. I didn't even have the energy to make the phone call to get help. But I really needed help. So I kept talking to this guy. He was nice to me and would talk to me, having "real" conversations with me (not like the BS small talk that most Toronto fuckboys engage in). Looking back, I think I liked him because I felt like I could heal through him. This was a mistake, of course. But it's okay, we live and we learn.

Now comes the good part. The first breakthrough.

Dreams Festival was around the corner, and since I'd been exposed to all my friends on M at every rave, I was really thinking about it a lot. I had done some research and read that M with assisted psychotherapy really did do wonders for PTSD. Of course, I didn't have a psychotherapist... but I was curious. What if I did just a little bit? Just a tiny amount.

The guy I was seeing - he would make his own pills. So he could tell me exactly how much is in each of them, and customize it for me. I told him I wanted to try it... but I didn't want to do it both days of the festival. Just one. I read and saw my friends go through a lot of the side effects and a lot of the highs, and they educated me a lot on it. So I think I was okay.

Day 1 was great, but Day 2 is when I popped for the first time.

I only took 0.10, but man... it was enough. Believe me. When I started rolling, it was like...

I didn't even know I was capable of feeling that way. It was as though a HUGE weight that I'd been carrying for my whole life was literally lifted off my shoulders. The sun was setting and it felt so good on my skin. They kept telling me to put my sunglasses on, but I didn't want to. I wanted to look at the sunset, and feel the warmth on my face. I didn't have a fear in the world.

And that was profound.

I didn't feel any fear. For the first time in my life.

I wasn't scared or worried about ANYTHING. I had no stress. I wasn't thinking about anything bad that had happened.

So I started crying. I was fucking balling my eyes out. I didn't know it was possible to feel this way. I didn't even know that hope existed. I didn't know what recovery felt like. But feeling that... made it all possible. I realized that it was actually possible for me to feel that way sober. The "real me" came out. I realized that there was a kind of "fear cloud" haunting me, and that I just need to separate myself from it to feel good and heal.

It was magical. This realization was the biggest epiphany I've ever had in my life.

I was okay. I was REALLY okay... and I would continue to be if I can remember how to do that again.

I just have to remember....

Since that amazing night, I got A LOT better. It was like 6 sessions of therapy, I swear. Don't get me wrong- the "fear cloud" definitely came back LOL. & I'm still damaged af. But tbh, I learned a lot and I can tap into that experience to help myself move forward.

The best part is, I had no come down and I didn't even crave the feeling of being high like that again. Just that one experience was enough for me to know that I'll be okay, but that it's going to take a lot of pro-activeness for me to get there.

And so I've been working hard at psychoanalyzing myself, and keeping my mental health in check.

When I break down, it gets REALLY bad. But I can tap into that and talk myself out of the overwhelming negative memories and bad thoughts that stop me from sleeping. It doesn't go away completely, but it really does help a lot. I'm not a lost cause anymore. I'm not bad anymore.

I'm not the way I was last summer.

And well, there you have it.

That's just one baby step in a life long journey of healing from PTSD.