It's way funnier to me to imagine that Geralt is the one who desperately wants Dandelion to winter at Kaer Morhen with him but Dandelion keeps saying no on the simple grounds that it's too fucking cold and do you want me to die Geralt? Do you want me to get hypothermia and fucking die?

And Geralt's like "please I am begging on my knees I will cuddle you every night to keep you warm I just need to prove you actually exist"

i made the mistake of listening to the pjo musical while also being on a spy x family kick and came to the horrifying realization that Damian is so Annabeth-coded, particularly combining their ambitions with the trauma of being seen as invisible and their determination to prove themselves....

so, here is a damian-centric amv to the song "My Grand Plan"

Growing up in an extremely ultra religious, cult-like family was a mindfuck for multiple reasons but that doesn't stop unfortunately, even when you escape. For example, see: The overwhelming feeling of boiling hatred and shame for who you used to be.

The angry hatred for the past person I used to be, the version of myself that mindlessly parroted my family's beliefs and listened to their every command, constantly simmered under my skin and invaded my every thought. I was embarrassed of what I used to be- even as I made friends of different ethnicities and faiths, as I listened and explored new ideas and worlds that I never knew existed, as I started the first LGBTQ+ club at my school and volunteered with kids who deserved so much more- there was always a little voice in the back of my head.

"They would hate you if they knew what you were. They would hate the horrendous teachings that were seared into your mind, the things that you used to say and believe. You are nothing but a pretender."

And it is true that my beliefs were bigoted in all the worst ways. It is true that I believed truly heart-wrenching things without a second thought and judged others in such harsh and unfair ways. I told myself that there was no coming back from that, not really. There was nothing I could do to ever make up for it.

Then I remembered that the person who said those things wore velcro light up sneakers and collected finger puppets that the librarians handed out as awards for reading picture books. The person that held signs at pro-life rallies and anti-LGBTQ+ protests had a cherished sticker book and hunted minnows in the creek after school and adored their puffle on club penguin and was really into greek mythology and had skinned knees from climbing trees at recess and knew every Disney song by heart and was absolutely terrified of the dark.

That person was a child.

I was a child.

It took a really long time. Years and years of reflection and distance, but I've decided that I can't hate the past version of myself anymore. I feel pity and remorse, I feel anger- I feel so much fury and violent rage- at what my childhood was and I grieve what could- no, should- have been, but I no longer resent who I was.

I'm not ashamed.

I am so, so, so unbelievably proud of that little kid. For being brave enough to leave the comfort and safety of what I was told was right. For not being afraid to be wrong. For seeking out information and knowledge in a culture that praised ignorance. For questioning everything, relentlessly.

I am by no means a perfect person, I never have been and I never will, but I am proud of myself in every iteration that has ever existed because I know that I have never stopped trying to understand and learn and grow, and I never will.

If you have ever been in a similar situation and feel similar things, first of all: My condolences on your lost childhood. Second of all: Please be nice to that past version of yourself and recognize all the hard work they did to make you who you are today. That person was a survivor and an inspiration. They deserve nothing but love.

911: Lone Star | S4E15 Donors

full moon bond 👀

So I actually answered that here. But I will share a snippet!

With Christopher happily tangled in a literal puppy pile with Harry and Denny, Eddie strides over to where Bobby and Athena are putting the last touches on the camp site. "Need a hand?" He asks the pack leaders. Bobby frowns at the papers before him, "Um maybe." he hands over the crumpled pages and Eddie immediately recognizes his mates delicate handwriting and masterful spell work. He swallows down a whine, trying to hide how much he misses his witch. "You know Buck's magic better than any of us." Bobby points towards where Athena was painting an intricate symbol on a fallen log, "Due north, on a surface of nature bathed in the light of the moon. Marked in the essence of those you wish to keep away." The alpha recites the instructions from the page in Eddie's hand. Eddie runs his fingers across Buck's words and the ache for him widens further, "What uh-" He sniffles and tries to blink away fresh tears, "What kind of essence did you use?" "Ground bear claw, urine from a non-pack wolf, coyote fur, and raccoon blood." Athena answers coming over to the two men. She wrinkles her nose, "Don't know how your boy got his hands on wolf urine from an outsider, but if it keeps the mongrels away from our site, he can keep his secrets." "He knows the right people." Eddie states, thinking of the hidden magical market that appears only during the new moon and how elated the witch is as he drags Eddie from booth to booth.

started another bg3 playthru bc i Am Sad TM, draconic bloodline dwarf street-urchin sorcerer bc i am making this as Sad as possible for a gale romance <3 i probably will not actually play it for a bit, but i was cooking in the character creator for like 3 hrs

merry crisis

gerry + 64 pleaseeeeee

[Image ID: A monochromatic digital sketch in cool and eerie teals. Gerry stands in a forest of snowy pines, surrounded by fog and darkness. They are facing away and look back over their shoulder at the viewer with an expression of profound exhaustion. Text above them reads "I don't want to be the only one living when all my friends are gone." End ID]

Frozen Pines by Lord Huron + (beloved of my heart) Gerry = Lonely!Gerry

chilling vibing getting stuff done and then suddenly getting hit by 'why do you try so hard to make something new and good and bend yourself backwards pushing for quality when that stuff is mostly discouraged and low effort quantity-over-quality stuff is constantly rewarded'

I am unable to write scenes without homoerotic tension. Everytime I reread what I've just written I'm like "Oh these bitches gay! Good for them, good for them." It's not even intentional. I'm writing ship fics about characters I don't even ship.

day 07: legacy

[Image ID: A darkly colored digital painting done with oil brushes of Alfendi Layton, from Layton Brothers Mystery Room, sitting at his desk in his office at dawn, as seen from the back corner of the room. He is sitting cross-legged with a cup of tea in his hands and he is blankly staring forwards. Behind him is a large window with the blinds half-down showing a grey dawn sky with mutliple buildings and Big Ben in within view. The same wall the window is on also has shelves, newspaper clippings, and a framed letter of apology addressed to Alfendi. In front of him is a messy desk with a lamp, a rotary phone, and a typewriter sitting on top, dimly shining in the light. /.End ID.]

like 16 people have told me happy birthday and i’m ngl i’ve been tearing up over it