#you have christmas in july as just some randomly accepted real thing??

[randonauticrap]

Edit: I do not hate Christmas, I just think it should save its Ho Ho Ho's til after Thanksgiving.

[elfenbensord]

GOODBYE, STRANGER / CHAPTER 1

GOODBYE, STRANGER / CHAPTER ONE / OBLIVIATE

SERIES MASTERLIST

3-10.8.20

A/N: This is a new series I started a bit randomly one night. Enjoy some sad  Remus and chaotic Y/N content

Warning: A Sad™ time.

Word count: 3.8 k

It was an early morning yesterday

I was up before the dawn

And I really have enjoyed my stay

But I must be moving on

---

October 31st, 1981

On a train to London

Remus could see tiny stars on a black infinity as he looked up at the sky through the dingy windows of the train. He was all alone in the carriage, something which reflected his current life situation very well. In his mind, a series of panicked questioned were playing on repeat.

What had Dumbledore said? That the hiding place had been compromised? That the Dark Lord had personally gone after Lily and James?

And where was Sirius in all this? Where was Peter?

Were his best friends still alive?

The stars above granted him no answers. 

---

October, 1982

A year after

Remus woke up early. He always did. For a few hours, it was just him and the early morning sun. He hated it. Once, he could’ve given anything for just an hour of silence, a minute of calm. Now he felt himself suffocating on this endless expanse of nothing. The silence acted as yet another confirmation of one of his many dreadful suspicions - that he was lonely. Perhaps he always had been. He probably always would be. 

Breathing in deeply, he couldn’t help but turn his nose away in distaste. His entire flat smelled of old stains and neglected dishes. Sunlight peeked through the curtains of his bedroom window, illuminating a gentle storm of dust for an instance. After shining in a quite naturally magical way, it settled into his clothes, into his lungs. Looking down, he saw the same shirt and slacks he’d worn the night before. And the night before that.

I’m not even hungover, he thought. 

He wasn’t. He hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol in months. The thought of drowning his sorrows in brown liquids and vile smells had never been appealing to him. Not even now. ‘Now’ being the end of everything. Well, maybe not everything. But the end of him, at least. It had already begun, deep in his mind. He just hadn’t come to the right conclusions just yet. 

The sun smiled at him from its rightful place in the sky. After giving it a dirty look, Remus closed the curtains.

---

His morning coffee tasted way too bitterly. With every sugar, it only seemed to turn darker. Nothing tasted quite the same anymore. Sweet was often exchanged for bitterness, and vice versa. Whenever he wished for one, he got the other. If anything, it made eating an awful business to him.

That night a year ago constantly lingered in the back of Remus‘ mind. That final night. When his entire fate was turned upside down. 

He’d lost so many things that one night. Went to bed one day, to discover it all gone the moment he woke up. He’d had a home. Grimmauld Place 12 had been a wonderful place back then, always full of volunteers and members of the Order, old and new. And there was a constant lingering smell of Molly Weasley’s roast chicken, companionship, and too much firewhiskey now and then.

And he’d had friends. Best friends. “Cross my heart and hope to die” friends. 

He’d had a purpose, or something like it. The war had given Remus a meaning. Where it to so many others had taken lives, it had unusually granted him one.

It was a life he did his best to take good care of. A life he’d spent years building, repairing, and desperately ensuring. He was even making plans to enroll in studies at a university nearby that hopefully one day would become a degree in teaching. He’d known where he was, and where he was going.

And over one night, nothing was left of that. 

He still remembered arriving to Grimmauld Place, only to see it empty and abandoned. And that recurring question - Where were his best friends? 

Gone. He’d discovered in the morning. No one had bothered to tell him - instead, he’d had to read all about it in the Daily Prophet.

James and Lily Potter dead. Their son, Harry, somehow survived. 

The Dark Lord defeated.

Peter Pettigrew - dead at the hands of Sirius Black. 

Sirius Black - the damned traitor! - a life sentence in Azkaban.

Remus was the only one left. Without friends. Without a home. And without purpose.

---

“Mr. Lupin, are you listening?”, the Healer inquired. 

“Hmm?”

“Did you hear what I just said?”

“Yes, of course.”

“Then what did I say?”

“I- I don’t… I don’t know.”

Remus felt like he was being scolded, like a child who’d nicked candy from the Christmas shelf. A heavy knot of tears started to settle in the base of his throat. Like a child. Pathetic. 

The Healer smiled in a, what he thought, sympathetic way. To Remus it simply looked like pity. A lot of things looked like pity to him now. “No worries, I’ll go over it again…”

Please, don’t, he thought. 

“As I said, I need you to keep coming back for checkups at least once a month…”

Great, another thing to dread.

“... and I’ll have your asthma medication ready next time…”

Not only are all my friends dead, now my lungs are giving in as well.

“... and I really think it’d be good for you if you started making some new friends.”

New friends?

“Did you hear me this time, Remus?”

“Loud and clear. I’ll be back in a month.”

“Looking forward to see you.”

I’m not.

---

New friends?

Remus wasn’t even sure how to do that anymore. Friends were something for the past him. He hadn’t had anyone since that final night, a year ago. He didn’t even consider himself to be his own friend. Because what other friends than his first and last could he possibly ever have? And he even felt like a traitor to them. Most days, he tried to think as little of them as possible. Hoped to eventually forget them, in an attempt to soften the pain. Tried to stay in the present. But nothing worked. Nothing would grant him a single second of relief.

How could it? His best friends had died. 

And now… Now he was someone else. He suspected he’d become unrecognizable to the ones who’d known him. He hadn’t cut his hair in a year. It hung around his ears in sorry curls. He hunched in a new way now, something which might’ve granted him a sense of anonymity and security during the war, but now only hurt his back more as each day passed. Sometimes he felt like he was still in the thick of it. Still in the middle of a wizarding war. Like he’d forgotten it was all over. That’s why he still couldn’t walk without casting cautious glances over his shoulder every other minute. That’s why he awoke soaked in sweat, terrified and confused, in the middle of the night. 

They were always there. In the back of his mind. Their screams. Their final words. 

And as he failed to forget them, he started to forget himself instead. His existence before this seemed more and more like a dream for each day that passed. He existed in an endless vacuum. Only ‘now’ existed. Nothing before or to be. Nothing ever would. 

And he could never forget the night that made him want to forget himself. But Remus wanted to forget. For real, not just for a moment.

And he knew just the spell.

---

“Bloody fuck”, he whispered, eyes locked at the grey cobble street by his feet. The wind tugged at his hair. He added a curse for himself, and for not realizing he should’ve worn a hat. His ears burned in that cool way, when warmth and cold seem indistinguishable. He drew his worn-out tweed coat tighter around him. It’s unusually cold for July. Is it even still July?

Before him was his well-familiar grocery shop. In one of the big glass windows hung a sign, ‘Sorry, we’re closed!’ and a handwritten note, stating that the shop was to close permanently because of family troubles. 

For Remus, that meant he’d have to walk two more blocks to get to the next shop. Or disapparate. But he hadn’t tried to teleport in so many months, he was scared he might’ve forgotten how to. And if he messed up, who would he call? 

What he’d have to do was to walk. And he’d come to despise walking. He muttered a few swears, before beginning his journey. 

It took one block, before his lungs started to burn. Remus had come to despise the wheezing sound they - his lungs - made after the smallest kinds of exercise. His airways only seemed to close in tighter, in their wild ambition to strangle him. He found that even if he did arrive at the shop, he wouldn’t be able to get home. And then the whole thing seemed rather pointless. 

All this resulted in him turning around, and accepting the fact that he couldn’t have dinner tonight. It wouldn’t be the first time. Sure, his Healer had said that any more skipped meals would eventually result in some sort of wicked starvation, which could get him a place at St. Mungo’s. And another month at St. Mungo’s wasn’t something he wanted. He thought he’d wasted enough time lying in a bed, being fed and dallied with.

Remus didn’t know what to do. His lungs burned. He could’ve killed for Molly Weasley’s roast chicken. With buttered potatoes and steamed green beans. Only a year ago, he had killed for Molly Weasley.

His lungs wouldn’t stop gasping for air. He pulled his arms around himself, and let out an ill-sounding cough. The sorry sight gained him a few looks from the people passing by. 

Pull yourself together!

Then he remembered - a few weeks back, he’d bought far too many instant soup packs after finding a coupon in the Daily Prophet. Maybe he could find one of them, preferably mushroom-flavoured, somewhere at the very back of his kitchen drawers. It was a shot in the dark, he admitted that. But it was a shot at something, at least.

---

Coughing and wheezing, he finally arrived home. Well, perhaps ‘home’ wasn’t the right word. He arrived at the place where he’d been hiding away for the past year. How homely that was, he didn’t want to judge for himself. 

As he held on to the wall beside the staircase for his dear life, he noticed how the front door opposite his own was hanging opened. 

Someone’s in there! His mind went haywire, hand cramping around the wand from his inner pocket. Breaths became shallow, inaudible. Steps softened. Time seemed to slow down. He could feel the seconds moving past him.

The top step creaked under the weight of his right foot. 

Remus moved closer to the open door. Meanwhile, he rehearsed the most useful spells for attack and defense.

But the scene before him was nothing like he’d imagined or rehearsed for.

“Hello there, stranger!” A girl half-shouted from inside. She was surrounded by moving boxes, but already looked quite at home. There was a happy look plastered upon her face. 

No Death Eaters. No ‘fight or flight’. Just a girl.

Remus was taken aback. “Good evening”, his voice sounded like an unfamiliar croak. “... stranger.”

At the presence of another human being, Remus also found himself quite self-conscious about his looks. He knew he hadn’t showered in ages, and he couldn’t remember if he’d brushed his teeth this morning. Only Godric knew the last time he’d combed his hair. He made a half-hearted attempt to calm his disorderly brown locks, before tucking his arms into his sides. He felt the sharp end of his wand dig into the flesh of his hips, and hoped he wouldn’t accidentally turn his insides to jelly. 

There was a stack of bowls wrapped in old newspapers in her arms, and a cheery smile on her lips. She hurried to put them down on the floor, causing Remus to cringe at the clinking sound they made. Surely something must’ve broken. She got up from the floor, standing in her full length. She still didn’t reach past Remus’ shoulders. “I’m the new neighbor.”

New neighbor?

“I’m Y/N”, she handed him her name. And, judging by the smile on her lips, a piece of her heart as well. She looked so effortlessly happy. It stirred something in Remus, making him wanting to return the smile in the best way he could.

He got lost in her happiness, and forgot himself for a moment. “I’m…”, an idiot. “I’m Remus Lupin.”

“Nice to meet you”, another goddamned smile. Wide and white-teethed. “I guess we’ll be seeing a lot of each other. I mean, sharing a whole corridor and all.”

Remus had never once given that corridor a single thought. “Yup. An entire corridor...”

Another smile. “It’ll be fun, won’t it?”

Fun? “Sure.”

He realized he still had his wand in his hand, and quickly put it away as to not look like he’d just been planning an attack on a devotee of the Dark Lord. 

“I better get back-”, he mumbled.

“I need to keep unpacking-”, she said.

She reached out a final hand. A final smile. “Nice meeting you.”

Remus took it. It was softer than he remembered hands could be. His lips were forced into a strained smile, “Same.”

Nose crinkled, eyes sparked. “See you around, Remus.”

Her door was still hanging open when Remus turned his back on her to return to his own nest. Careless girl. 

All of this made Remus unsure of how to feel. This exceeded all his expectations - but to be fair, pretty much anything did now a days. He felt himself thrown off his usual dull rhythm. This was... new. He threw a last look down the corridor, and noticed he could still see her through her open door. 

Anyone could walk through an open door. Shaking his head, he closed his own door with a loud ‘thud’. 

---

FRIDAY

Remus had made sure the door was locked at least three times now. He got up from the coach to check again. Locked. Like it’d been the first time.

Satisfied, he returned to the coach. Looking around him, he made sure to check that everything was in order. He’d written himself a note, containing his name and birth information. He didn’t intend to forget every thing, but he knew that these sort of spells could be incalculable. ‘These sort of spells’ being spells for desperate fools. Such as himself. 

The note was in place on the coffee table in front of him. He figured he better sit down. It wasn’t impossible that a erasing your past could make you a bit fussy. 

It’s probably best to just nap it out, he thought to himself. Just… fall asleep old and wake up brand new.

The familiar wood of his wand felt like an old friend. Not that he particularly knew what those felt like anymore. The slender stick was the only thing linking him to his past. It started heating up slightly against his hand. Almost as if it knew what he was about to do. Begging him not to. His wand hand started shaking more. He needed steadier hands for this. The truth was, he needed someone else’s hands for this. Someone else to pull the plug. 

He had no one. Nothing. 

His lungs wheezed as he took a deep breath, steadying his hands. Another breath, and he braced himself.

His lips begun to shape the word, but his voice wouldn’t produce a sound. He tried again. Nothing.

Then, there was a sudden pain. The ever present ache in his head became more apparent; it turned into a sharp pain. His hands started to shake, dropping the wand like it was burning his skin. His airways closed in, there suddenly was no sair for him to breath. He could feel his head starting to spin, his vision becoming fuzzy. He felt like he was melting away.

Then there was nothing. 

---

SATURDAY

Remus woke up late. Judging by the way the sun was burning into his eyes, it must’ve been past noon. He’d been passed out for more than 12 hours. 

His mouth felt like sandpaper. Head was still fuzzy, and hands and limbs not feeling quite like they should. He was alive. And he didn’t know whether to be disappointed or not.

A shower, he thought. A shower and I’ll be fine. Well, ‘fine’ was an overstatement. 

Looking into the bathroom mirror, he barely recognized himself. Who was this man? With sunken in, dull eyes, gazing back at him. There was an angry red mark on the bridge of his nose, probably caused by his metal-rimmed glasses digging into his face all through the night. And most of the day. His face was nothing more but a pale complexion in a dirty mirror. 

I used to be covered in freckles, he remembered. Little delightful brown spots everywhere. Now, his face was laid bare. 

The hot water from the shower hurt and pricked his fragile skin. But it was a good hurt. It was an ‘I’m alive’ hurt. Remus rested his head against one of the tiled walls, feeling the water pour down his back. He still couldn’t understand what had exactly happened last night. He’d tried to forget. He’d ended up passing out. 

“Shit”, he mumbled. The water ran a little hotter. His fist punched the hard surface of the tile wall. “Shit, shit, shit, shit!”

Through the small window of his bathroom, the sun kept pouring in. It burned his eyes with its brightness. 

He cursed the sun. He cursed the moon and the stars. He cursed himself. Himself and his incapability. Himself and his naivete - had he really thought he could just forget?

A cold, frosty feeling started to settle into his insides. The water from the shower head turned freezing cold. Out of hot water. 

“... Shit.”

---

There was a knocking at the door. Three quick beats. At his front door. Remus was still standing in his hallway, towel wrapped around his middle and hair in a wet mess. He muttered a series of curses and swears, as he tried to find a clean shirt in his mess of a bedroom. Finding no such thing, he retorted to one of his coats from the hangers next to the door. It’d have to do. He’d fought off Death Eaters - one time even the Dark Lord himself - with worse dress sense. 

The knocking continued, followed by a voice. “Hello?”

The last syllable was dragged out far too long for Remus’ liking. Realizing a Death Eater most certainly would never use the word in such a comical way, he let himself relax just a little.

“Anybody home?”

He opened the door an inch, casting a cautious look outside. 

The new neighbor. The girl. Whatever her name was.

“Good afternoon”, followed by a wide smile.

Was it really that late?

She noticed the coat. The damned coat. “Are you going out?”

He crossed his arms around himself, in yet another attempt to hide himself. “No. Not particularly.” 

Remus’ confused face clearly amused her, for a bubbling laughter fell out of her lips. 

“Were you out for a bit too long last night?”

Was that a joke? “Yeah, something like that… Sorry, did you need anything?”

“No. I was just wondering what you were up to right now.”

A small smile started to involuntarily form on his lips. “I’m not doing… anything. Ever.”

At least that’s true.

“Good. ‘Cause I need a companion.”

“Companion?”

“You know, like a friend.”

Friend? “Oh. Right.” Friend? “Me? Am… Am I your friend?”

Another smile. “Of course. You’re the closest friend I’ve got in London at the moment.”

Friend? Remus wasn’t anyone’s friend. The thought both thrilled and concerned him.

“Okay. Sure. I can be your”, he cleared his throat, “companion.”  Then he remember, the damned coat! 

With his easiest smile, “Could you give me just a quick minute?”

“Sure. I’ll just wait inside.”

Before Remus could say or do anything she halfway forced, halfway snuck into his sorry excuse of a flat. This was not what he was expecting. But then, what had he really been expecting? From minute one, she’d been completely… unexpected. 

Whatever-her-name-was looked around, inspecting his dirty dishes, the clothes that had been on the floor for months. The layers of dust covering almost every area.

A small nod, another dawning smile. “I like what you’ve done with the place.”

Remus could only try to keep up, “... Thanks?”

“You’re welcome. Oh, and you should probably put on some clothes before we head out.”

Remus looked down. His stomach dropped as he saw how his coat was hanging half open, revealing the towel around his waist. “Sorry! I’ll see to that right now.”

---

Dressed in his only clean button up shirt and a pair of almost clean jeans, Remus now walked side by side with his new acquaintance. He didn’t dare call her a friend yet, partly because of his own doubt, partly because of her (so far) unpredictable ways. The terms and conditions of this so called “friendship” were still a mystery to him, like so many things about her. 

“Excuse me for asking, but exactly where are we going?” He turned around to look at her, only to be met with a smile. Didn’t she ever stop smiling?

“Didn’t I tell you?”

Didn’t her mouth ever get tired?

“No, I don’t think so.”

Yet another smile. She seemed to have smiles for everyone. “How silly of me!” Her lips only widened. “We’re going to a marketplace.”

Marketplace? “Is there such a thing here?”

“I guess we’re about to find out.”

Right. Of course. 

“Right… And why did you need me to come with you?”

“So I don’t get lonely, obviously.”

Who was she? “Right. Sure. Obviously.” 

He realized a rather embarrassing fact. “I’m sorry, what was your name again?”

A smile. “You must have a really bad memory.”

“Well, no, I’d actually argue my memory’s quite good, but I was… distracted when I met you.” 

Another smile. “I’m Y/N Y/L/N. I’m your neighbor.”

“Yes. Right. And I’m Remus.” He stuck his hand out, “Very nice to meet you.”

She grabbed his hand in an unexpected way, and sped up her pace. “Come on, this’ll be fun!”

A strangled noise forced its way out of his throat. Chest begun to feel warm and slightly shaky. He was laughing. She soon joined him.

Looking up, Remus saw how the sky was clearing up. The sun still strained to reach through a fading curtain of clouds. He closed his eyes, and felt the sun smile on his face for what felt like the very first time.

---

taglists

permanent: @rocking-like-a-ravenclaw​ / @kapolisradomthoughts​ / @siriusement​ / @classy-sith-lady​ / @hermione-who / @theseuscmander​ / @sleepingalaska​

remus lupin: @writingwitchly​ / @serenefreakgeek​ / @spideyfan456 / @un-nouveau-soleil​ / @evyiione​ / @reggieblck​ / @bookworm0123​ / @deathbyramennoodles​ / @cedricisnotonfire​ / @allauraleigh​

[bunnylouisegrimes]

Happy New Years Eve! I’m hoping this next year will be brighter and healthier than the last has been! Ily all sm! 💖💞

It’s been a while since I’ve done or posted a traditional drawing. Here are the pony versions of Maggie, Charlie, and Vic: Scrabble Tiles, Candy Cane Fangs, and Lost n’ Found.

In this MLP/NOS4A2 crossover, ponies, like humans, can be born as Strong Creatives. They exhibit all of the same abilities and the like. The only notable difference is that Creative ponies earn their cutie marks at a later rate than most ponies. Once they unlock their abilities, they earn their cutie marks.

Scrabble Tiles is a book loving unicorn who once lived with her mom, who was crazy about religion. She earned her name because when she was first brought home from the hospital, she loved to play with the Scrabble tiles on the board game. This love stuck with her even as she matured. She liked to carry them with her in a pretty purple bag. Scrabble also loved to try to find the truth when it came to the world, as she was restricted to religion as answers thanks to her mother. Throughout her life, she’s avoided her mother to the best of her ability, especially since she isn’t accepting of Scrabble being a lesbian. When she realized she was a Strong Creative, Scrabble was playing with her tiles when she decided to try something new: ask them if they could help her find her purpose in the world. She randomly moved them around to form words, but that’s when something sparked in her magic, something she never felt before... her Creative abilities unlocked and words spelling out, “Creative” were just beneath her hooves. She noticed a sensation on her flank, and that’s when she earned her cutie mark. Her drawback to using her abilities is her stutter. Scrabble Tiles lives in her library, where one can often find her reading or being with her cop girlfriend, a Pegasus named Justice Wings, or Lost n’ Found, her best friend.

Lost n’ Found is a tough Pegasus with a rough family. Her dad, a Pegasus named Gritty Nails, and her mom, an Earth pony named Stone Hooves, didn’t get along the best and had many issues. She earned her name because she liked to wander away a lot, especially when her parents fought, so she was always “Lost n’ Found.” This name would take on a whole other meaning when she discovered her Creative abilities. Like her dad, she loved flying fast on her wings, and she used it as an escape. One day, when she was flying fast, she found a bridge that wasn’t there in the real world, but it projected from her mind. Through this bridge, she could find lost things. The first object she ever found was a lost watch. When she came back from the bridge, she earned her cutie mark. This is known as The Shorter Way bridge. Her drawback is her one eye bleeding and feeling sick. Her wings also feel painful for a bit. Later on in her life, she falls for an Earth pony named Warm Heart, and has an Earth pony son named Bats. You can usually find her flying fast, finding lost objects, reading comics, and spending time with Warm Heart, Bats, or Scrabble Tiles, her best friend. She tries her best to work out the rough relationship she has with her parents.

Candy Cane Fangs was born an Earth pony in a small town in Coltorado... 135 years ago. He earned his name when his abusive whore mother described his growing teeth as “sweet little candy canes to some, but fangs to me, the little vamp pony.” His father left when he was a few days born and was found in bed with another mare. Her stallion came home and shot him dead, where he died in his new girlfriend’s arms. Candy Cane Fangs was left on his own a lot and slept in a coffin bed in the back of the inn and mortuary he lived in with his mother. Candy Cane’s greatest Christmas gift was the Fantom Sled he bought with his own money he saved up from drawing the hearses in funeral processions. As he grew older, the pony often noticed an odd static in the sky, and as he played on his sled, odder and odder things would happen. One day, when Candy Cane was playing, a stallion, unsatisfied with Candy Cane’s mother’s “services,” decided he would do unspeakable things to the poor colt. When Candy Cane managed to escape, he hit a tree, and his powers unlocked for the first time (but not to their fullest extent, hence why he didn’t earn his cutie mark yet). He snapped and killed the stallion who hurt him, the owners of the inn and mortuary, and his mother, with the blades of his sled. He left Coltorado and ended up in Dodge Junction, where he worked as a chauffeur pony.

During the 1920’s, he met Golden Princess, a richer Earth pony. To celebrate her birthday, her family took her to see the Wonderbolts show and to go see a movie. Since her father was too scared to go on an airplane to “fly” with the Wonderbolts, Candy Cane volunteered to go with Golden Princess. He realized that he was in love with her, and she realized she was in love with him. Their first date was that same day, when the two of them and her family went to see a movie about a vampire pony named Nosferatu. Within the next year, they got married and had two Earth pony fillies, Nutcracker and Silver Bell. They lived a comfortable life thanks to Golden Princess’s father’s money, but once the stock market crashed, he lost everything. Their family especially lost everything thanks to her father falling down the stairs in a daze when he found out the news about losing everything.

Forced to live on a farm, Candy Cane did his best to work hard for his family, but Golden Princess grew to despise him, becoming abusive. She even hated the fillies and would sometimes mistreat them. One day, Candy Cane Fangs was conned into believing a place called Christmasland existed through a tricky pony named Nick LeMark. He spent a bunch of money to own two-and-a-half percent of it, and even bought a fancy black carriage known as The Wraith. He convinced Golden Princess everything would be okay, but while he was traveling back to Coltorado where Christmasland supposedly was, Golden Princess began to grow mean again. Slowly, Candy Cane’s attachment to the Wraith sparked something inside of him, and his Creative powers were starting to spark up again, and this time, they were stronger. He was beginning to transform into a vampire pony, alongside Nutcracker and Silver Bell, who turned on Golden Princess and ate her. When Candy Cane found out Christmasland was fake, his mind snapped beyond his control. Completely by instinct, he ran with all his might, anticipating to end himself and his fillies by running into a mountain, but instead they were teleported to... Christmasland. It became real through Candy Cane’s mind! He realized he and the fillies became vampire ponies, and he had earned his cutie mark! When he discovered the Graveyard of What Might Be, he discovered a way to find foals who are abused by their parents that he can save, make vampire ponies, and take to Christmasland. This is what Candy Cane has been doing for many years.

Candy Cane Fangs, also the strongest Strong Creative there is, enjoys reading books, celebrating Christmas, spending time with his vamp foals, and searching for the perfect mare to be his Mother Christmas to his Father Christmas. His relationship with a Creative Earth pony named Jazzie July, who’s abilities were harbored through her roller skates, failed miserably. His best friend is a unicorn named Brewski Trots, the second most powerful Creative. Sandy Hooves, another Strong Creative unicorn nicknamed “The Hourglass,” looks up to him and wishes to be just like him.

Welcome to My Little Strong Creative: Imagination is Magic.

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed and have a (better and healthier) New Year!

[astralmorganite]

3.14.2017 - Timing

Today marks 135 days until the wedding, which is such an odd feeling. It doesn’t quite feel real yet, if I’m speaking honestly. I don’t know that it will feel real until after it’s already done. But it is what it is. I feel like I contribute to Parker and I’s future marriage more in my every day life than I do thinking about wedding planning, but I think that’s just because I’m getting a little burnt out on being engaged. The actual planning itself has gone fairly smoothly lately, don’t get me wrong, I just kinda wish we were within the last month of this. That’ll be when the fun stuff happens, like bridal showers and bachelor/bachelorette parties and rehearsal dinners. By that time, I’m hoping things will be easier. Right now it’s a lot of financial stress that won’t be resolved until after I finish the school semester at the end of April. This summer is so close I can practically taste it. 

Sometimes I think about the time frame of how Parker and I ended up here. If I’m being honest, I absolutely never wanted to get married in July, much less in 2017. I have a weird hesitation against certain number combinations, such as odd numbers in odd places, and with the year being 2017, I knew many date combinations I had previously been ok with, would suddenly change. When I was engaged once before, I wanted to get married on 3/30/13, because if I had to deal with the year ending in 13, then the rest of the date also needed to have 3′s in it. A similar logic has applied to our wedding date of 7/27/17. If I was going to have to get married in the year 2017, it needed to match up with the rest of the date. About this time last year, I was hoping we could get married before the end of 2016, as I felt 16 was a much better number to accompany the end of a wedding date, but ultimately that became impossible. 

Parker and I spent a lot of time worrying about when we would get married. We got engaged on October 20th, 2016, but didn’t actually have a wedding date until February 2017. In six days, we will have been engaged five months, four of those months having been spent in free-floating limbo regarding when our wedding would actually happen. Even though we have a date now, that uncertainty has plagued my whole mind. It seems impossible; how can this be happening when we’ve spent every moment of our engagement fighting off roadblocks? How can we possibly guarantee that the roadblocks are truly gone from our path to marriage?

It’s been impossible to deal with. Even with our plans mostly set in stone, it feels like at any second, our dreams could be ripped away from us again. It happened time and time again for the first four months of this engagement, conditioning me to always be in fight or flight. It’s too late to turn off the anxiety, because it’s already here. It’s already programmed within me to assume that everything will fall apart and that something huge will ruin our wedding. It’s tearing me apart inside to think that something, ANYTHING, could randomly come along that we would have to deal with that will make our wedding dreams impossible. I’ve accepted that our wedding plans would require us to get married in a month and year that wasn’t my first choice. I’ve accepted that our wedding would have to be one of many that has happened or will happen on his side of the family. I’ve accepted that my family couldn’t help with the larger expenses. I have had to make myself accept a lot of things about this wedding.

I have a friend named Madi, who got married about six years ago. Her first wedding was a civil marriage performed outside of a friend’s home in the center of Washington State. Her wedding was beautiful, and she certainly looked beautiful, but a lot of the friends involved in her wedding planning then, later revealed themselves to be unstable, unhealthy, or just generally toxic. I don’t blame her for feeling that her wedding left a bad taste in her mouth. We were freshly out of high school by about a week or two, so it makes sense that the people in our lives then are not the same people who are around right now. But the problem lies in the fact that most of the people who provided effort then, have since shown their true colors. Then the year after, when Madi went through the LDS Sealing ritual, she attempted to make it like a second wedding, and had a mini-reception once the sealing was over. Unfortunately, this event was also marred by other people for her. Now, she’s reached such a point of discomfort with her past attempts at celebrating her and her husband’s relationship, that when their ten-year anniversary happens in 2021, she anticipates having a vow renewal that should encompass everything she wanted from her wedding in the first place.

I’ve thought about that. I think that a majority of the stress of wedding planning comes from my uncertainty, but in order to combat that, I have leaned to Madi’s mindset to help me get by. I keep thinking that if the wedding derails beyond reason, well, then at least I could have a vow renewal in five years, or so. It’s helped with the anxiety, but it hasn’t helped much in solidifying the reality of our impending marriage. 

There have just been far too many disappointments to feel like this is really happening. There have been too many people who have interrupted our lives for me to feel like that won’t happen ever again. It feels like Parker and I are just generally unimportant in comparison to others within our extended circle. It has always felt like Parker and I have been independent to a fault; in the sense that we have disconnected ourselves from so many people that now we have been dropped down the ranks. Aside from our immediate circle of friends (namely, the bridal party), it seems as though our circles have treated us so independently, that our wedding seems to be a secondary thought. Upon announcing our wedding date, we received more complaints about the choice than we received congratulations. Its things like this that make me feel like we should have just skipped a wedding in the first place, just gotten the dress and a photographer and shot our wedding in the mountains. We could have just informed everyone later and not have bothered with half the things we’re bothering with now. 

But I’ve always wanted a big wedding. I always pictured my wedding to be like a grand ball where I am the princess-becoming-queen, standing beside my strapping king. I envisioned some grand event where hundreds of people would ooh and ahh about the surrounding beauty; the flowers, the dress, the location, and most importantly, the couple. I envisioned a wedding similar to this line from a song I have listened to repeatedly since childhood:

I dreamt I dwelt in marble halls With vassals and serfs at my side, And of all who assembled within those walls That I was the hope and the pride. I had riches all too great to count And a high ancestral name.

But I also dreamt which pleased me most That you loved me still the same,

The song is called Marble Halls by Enya. I remember listening to this song on my first walkman I got for Christmas in 1999 or 2000. I don’t quite remember the exact year I first heard the song. But I remember feeling this kind of serenity and elegance in regards to how she described the scene around her. Do I consider the wedding attendees to be vassals and serfs? Certainly not, but the concept of being surrounded by people who, even temporarily, were devoted to us, excited me. It always has. But the reality of the situation is becoming clear; Parker and I just aren’t as important. It’s evident in the fact that for most of my life I was physically and mentally abused. It’s evident in the fact that for most of Parker’s life, he was neglected and abandoned. It’s evident in the fact that people we’ve been distant with in the past have bothered to show us support through occasional messages of support, or through words of encouragement. Most of the people involved in our very innermost circle have expressed how our relationship deserves the highest of accolades; that our relationship brings them hope that love and relationships are not inevitably doomed. We’ve made a difference in the lives of the people closest to us, but on a wider level, it seems that people are more invested in themselves.

And I understand that. I’ve had friends whom I’ve ignored when they’ve gotten married. But overall it’s been because I didn’t think they were right for each other. Is that how people see us? When we stand at the altar, will people applaud for us because they truly understand and support the love we’ve built up for each other, or will they be there out of obligation?

But this uncertainty in how people see us is causing me to keep more of the anxiety on my shoulders. But then I keep thinking about doing this with nobody else around, and I feel stronger. I would rather be alone than have people feel they are obligated to support me. I would rather have genuine support despite obligation, than support out of obligation, but if I cannot have the first option, I would rather have no support at all. It’s interesting to me, because even as Madi and I have disconnected and reconnected at random intervals in our lives, she has put forth so much positivity towards Parker and I. She doesn’t even have a personal relationship with Parker, but she has still encouraged me. She helped me feel alright about not having extended support; her vow renewal is my inspiration for one I may do myself. 

One thing that I’ve worried about in regards to posting this blog entry is that someone may feel they are being specifically referenced when I say I don’t have extended support. I worry that people may think I am referring to them, and that I am demanding MORE than they have already given. Obviously I don’t want people to read this and think “Oh, so I haven’t done enough for her already? Well screw her then!” I think the main point I seek to get across to those that feel they may fall under this category of people, is that if support is not genuine, then it is not support at all. The reaction of getting upset at me making a vague call-out is indicative of two things; one, that you understand that you have not provided genuine support, and two, that you feel as though your half-hearted attempts should be enough. Obviously, those with genuine support would already know they have provided genuine support, and would not feel they are specifically being addressed. Or in the least, they would feel comfortable asking me if I felt they have been genuine. So, I suppose one could say that, if you feel attacked by this entry, then it is likely I am talking about you. If you feel for me, then you’re probably one of the supportive ones.

And of course, its not as if I require support in the form of monetary reward or even physical labor. Madi (as aforementioned) has shown strong support despite living a thousand miles away, and certainly has not paid for any part of my wedding. But she still participates. She texts me on occasion and talks about wedding plans with me. That’s part of how I learned of her vow renewal plans, we carried on the conversation to talk about HER “wedding” plans and developed a rapport. Even if we didn’t keep talking about my wedding, we held up a conversation. We continued to develop our friendship, and that means so much to me. This wedding has served its purpose in that sense; I’ve become close to the people who have provided support. Even my mother has been incredibly supportive, even though her financial situation is far tighter than my own. She periodically sends me pictures of dresses she might want to wear to the wedding, she asks me how things are going, she keeps in contact. It means so much just to receive a text, especially from my mom, and it’s just as meaningful coming from distant friends with whom I haven’t spoken in a long time. It’s sweet, it’s thoughtful. It’s little efforts. It’s just as important as the bigger displays of support, such as Parker’s dad building us a set piece, and my grandmother buying a lot of the flowers that will make up our bouquets and boutonnieres. 

 Or perhaps I am blind to my privilege and I am truly not seeing how much effort people are putting in for me. I accept that this could be the true reality, and I accept that people may be able to get upset with me for how I feel. It could very much just be an irrational portion of my anxiety. Perhaps my perspective is skewed because my anxiety wants me to believe that people don’t truly care about Parker or I, and that this lack of support is just all in my head. In the least, I’ve used writing about it to ease the anxiety, so even if it is just in my mind, then readers who may feel personally attacked can say “well, clearly this is just her anxiety, so no reason to feel hard feelings.” I do have a well-documented anxiety disorder, and its hard to differentiate between legitimate concerns and imagined ones. I’m not trying to discredit myself, but rather just give everyone else the benefit of the doubt, I suppose. In any case, whether this problem is real or imagined, I would hope that it lifts soon.

I would rather not let my doubts win over me completely.