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#have a fun birthday!
victorluvsalice · 1 month
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Happy Birthday Newt!
@dont-offend-the-bees A combination of you telling me that anything cute and Valicey would do as a birthday fic and me knowing that you are still into Saw as a fandom led to this -- Victor and Alice reacting to the first Saw movie, inspired by a couple of posts I saw on your blog before you moved all the Sawposting to The Secret Saw Sideblog! Though the fic is technically Valicer out of necessity, because the only way I could think of to get the pair to watch it was to have it be a Halloween Movie Nights pick by Smiler's friend Thirteen, as per this headcanon post...
--
“That is unfair!”
“What’s unfair?” Thirteen asked, looking over at Alice.
“The ending!” Alice said, waving at the slowly-rolling credits on the screen before them. “All Jigsaw said to Adam was that he had to survive until six o’clock, correct? Nothing else? No other secret catches?”
“Don’t ask me,” Victor muttered, hands over his face. “I am actively trying to erase this movie from my mind.”
“There there,” Smiler said, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You’ll be fine – and yeah, ‘survive until six’ was the gist of it,” they added to Alice.
“Well, six o’clock rolled around, and Adam was still alive!” Alice pointed out, stabbing another finger at the TV. “He was wounded, sure, but he was still very much fucking alive! Which means he succeeded! Lawrence was the one who failed in his goal! And yet Lawrence’s the one who gets to crawl off and seek help while Adam gets electrocuted and sentenced to – I guess starving to death in that horrible bathroom? All because he, unsurprisingly, didn’t notice a damn key in his bathtub when he first woke up?”
“You are assuming a lot in thinking Lawrence survived after–” Victor swallowed and shuddered. “After c-cutting off his own f-f-foot.”
“Actually, uh, it’s canon Lawrence survives,” Oblivion put in, sporting a slightly sheepish grin. “He shows up again in Saw 3D.”
“Oh great – when do we watch that one?”
“Don’t worry, we don’t have time for tonight,” Thirteen informed him with a cheeky smirk.
“What, because it’s long?”
“No, because it’s film number seven.”
That finally got Victor to look up. “It’s – wait, what?”
“Yeah, for some reason they decided to name it after the 3D gimmick instead of following the numbering system,” Rita explained, leaning around her girlfriend. “And then films eight and nine are Jigsaw and Spiral respectively, though Spiral’s actually more like a spin-off of the main series–”
“Can I please fully express my annoyance over the fact that Jigsaw killed Adam despite him winning his ‘game’ before we start talking about how this series screwed up its numbering system over halfway through?” Alice cut in, folding her arms and scowling.
“Well, the thing you have to understand about Jigsaw is – he’s a total asshole,” Thirteen reminded her. “He says that his games are to help ‘rehabilitate’ people and make them appreciate life and all that bullshit, sure, but honestly, I believe the dude just wants to torture as many people as he can, both before and after he bites it.”
“I can believe that,” Victor muttered, shivering. Smiler put a comforting arm around him. “And this is probably the least bloody of all the movies, isn’t it?”
“I haven’t seen them all, but I’m pretty sure it is, yes,” Galactica confirmed, giving him a sympathetic look from the other side of Oblivion. “You know, you could have left if you weren’t enjoying it – we wouldn’t have thought any less of you for it.”
“Yeah, I’m shocked you actually sat through the whole thing,” Smiler admitted, giving him a little squeeze.
“I am too, honestly,” Alice said, wrapping her arm around him to do the same. “I’m used to horrors like these – hell, the bathroom looked kind of like one I saw in Rutledge – but I know it’s not your cup of tea.”
“I thought it would be too rude to just get up and leave,” Victor groaned, putting his face in his hands again. “And I kept telling myself, ‘it’s the very first one, it can’t be that bad...’”
“We won’t make you watch any of the others,” Thirteen promised, patting his knee. “I mean, I appreciate you making the effort, but despite appearances, I don’t want you to have nightmares.”
“Thanks.” Victor shook his head. “I know you love that sort of thing, but – it’s just not for me.”
“Me either – especially if John Kramer can’t practice what he preaches,” Alice agreed, glaring at the screen as the DVD menu came up again.
“It’s actually not my favorite series either, if I’m honest,” Thirteen confessed. “I just like this one because of all the hot gay tension between Lawrence and Adam.”
“...there was a surprising amount of that,” Victor allowed.
“Mmm – though given Lawrence is married, he’d better start talking to his wife about either opening the relationship or getting a divorce before he hobbles his way back to that bathroom,” Alice declared.
“You know, I bet there’s a fic like that somewhere on AO3,” Smiler said, pulling out their phone. “Who wants to find a nice domestic AU to help us all decompress?”
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mybuginette · 3 months
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i'm obsessed with this shit now
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sorry, in universe social media is my roman empire now
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anyone else have multiple traumatic memories associated specifically with holidays/family vacations? because that is a topic I never see discussed in all the So You Had A Shitty Childhood, Now What? self-help books i've been reading. but for me, it was a significant thing. and the more i think about it the more it seems like this would be an (unfortunately) common experience. would be grateful to hear if this matches other peoples' experiences...
#not a shitpost#serious post#ask to tag#tw trauma#cptsd#c-ptsd#and if so we should TALK about it#because it means there are a whole group of survivors out there whose mental health regularly worsens during holidays#like i know i am most certainly not the only person who feels an undefined Dread hanging over christmas/my birthday/july 4 etc#bc too many shitty things happened during those times and now my brain is hypervigilant bc traditionally these are the Danger Times#and this seems like it would be particularly common for survivors of abusive/dysfunctional households (aka most people with c-ptsd)#because holidays/vacations typically mean 1) the whole family is together/being forced to interact#2) and undergoing external stressors e.g. travel/relatives aka 'outsiders' visiting/routines & coping mechanisms being interrupted etc#3) there is social pressure for this to be a Fun Family Bonding Experience which only highlights the cracks in the foundation#and exposes the common Everything Is Fine/We Are A Happy Family lie#4) the cognitive dissonance of feeling tired/anxious/stressed/afraid during a time when you are 'supposed' to be Making Good Memories#and then everyone is angry/tired/anxious/triggered and things boil over and something or someone goes Very Wrong#weird that i'm posting this in october when halloween is...sort of the ONLY holiday i have only good and happy feelings towards#i got lucky there#also i have positive feelings towards Labor Day but that's for socialist reasons
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kuttblueberry · 21 days
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GRRR I should have posted these on Jonathan's birthday,,I am a fool </3 happy late birthday to our favorite gentleman
Aaagh anyway here's a little more Ms paint stuff I had saved
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xulips · 2 months
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scrapped kohane birthday comic idea
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bluestonewings · 3 months
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HAPPY BIRTHDAY FIRESTAR!!!
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deep-space-lines · 4 months
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I am inflicting, or perhaps bestowing, upon you: Garrus as various unnecessarily sexualized references that come up if you look up refs of women with guns :)
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(( @milkywayes i know we’ve like almost never interacted but the silly comment i left on your post would Not leave my brain. I need to show u what you inspired ))
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tomaturtles · 6 months
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HAPPY SONIC FRONTIERS FIRST ANNIVERSARY TO THOSE WHO CELEBRATE (inspired by this)
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qwakque · 5 months
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it shined more brightly than any gem could,,
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christakisbang · 7 months
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lilybug-02 · 1 month
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Happy Birthday @akanemnon :3 ✨🎉
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thunderc1an · 7 months
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Hold me one more time, so that I never forget how it felt to hug the sun
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deadsetobsessions · 1 month
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Bruce didn’t come here often. Perhaps that was terrible of him but he couldn’t bear to visit his son’s resting place. It was difficult to equate his high-spirited son, bright as the sun itself and endlessly brilliant despite the more he grew up in, to the cold and lifeless stone engraved with his name and words that did not encompass everything his son was to him.
His hands were full of flowers, Jason’s favorite books, a round rock, and his son’s favorite foods.
Bruce didn’t come here often, because it broke his heart even more when he did, but today was a day that love and grief triumphed over his need to avoid.
He walked down the winding pathway, Alfred a silent sentinel behind him. He hated it, but he understood. Today was the only day Alfred allowed himself to be emotionally closed off. He’d lost a grandson.
Bruce didn’t come here often, but his son’s birthday was a day Bruce would remember how to love and live again, just for Jason.
“I will be over here, Master Bruce.” Alfred stopped at his designated spot, where Bruce had added a bench and a draping tree to shade Alfred as he stood vigil.
The first time they’d- it was April, and the sun- after the funeral, Bruce was lost in the throes of grief and had kneeled over the freshly tilled dirt for hours. Alfred had stood there, in that same spot, in the city’s rare blazing sun until Bruce came back to himself.
Bruce had almost lost his second father that day, and what good was wealth if it could not prevent that? And so, water, shade, a bench, and a space heater was added.
Bruce knows better than anyone how stubborn Alfred can be, when it comes to matters of the heart. After all, he didn’t have to raise Bruce after Martha and Thomas died.
“Alright, Alfred.”
Bruce splits from the haggard butler with pointed looks at the water bottles he’d prepared for today for Alfred (who manages, this time, a faint but amused raise of an eyebrow) and walks towards Jason Todd’s grave.
Here where his son is buried, the grass is kept green. In April, Forget-Me-Nots bloomed and dotted the place where Bruce’s world collapsed with bright colors. In August, it is still green, but the tin engraved with the names of the deceased stood out without the flowers.
Bruce kneeled and quietly arranged the flowers before placing them in the tin. He set the platters of food down and uncovered them. The scent of chili dogs made his heart stutter, flashes of a bright smile and book references blinding Bruce with their nostalgia.
He swallowed, grief building, and placed the stone he’d brought atop the gravestone. He sat back, gripping Jason’s book with white knuckles.
Bruce didn’t turn around when clothing rustled behind him. Alfred would have verbally cut down anyone that dared to approach them today, especially here. That he didn’t do so was telling of who it would be.
“I’m still mad at you, for not telling me as soon as you knew.” Dick Grayson sat down, hand over one of Jason’s school bag pins he had carefully attached to the front of his jacket.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“He deserved better. I should have been there.” Dick whispered, placing another bundle of flowers into the tin. It fit, but barely. “I would have dropped everything to come find him. Even if it wasn’t on time, even if it wasn’t enough, I deserved to be there when he was buried. We were family.”
“I know.” Bruce repeated, no less regretful. In his grief, he had wronged his loved ones. “I’m sorry.”
Dick casted a quiet, assessing eye at him. Bruce stayed quiet.
“It’s too dreary,” Dick said. He took out paints, little statutes of robins, bright birds, and bits and bobs Bruce knew Jason would have loved had he been alive out of his pockets.
“It should be more colorful,” Dick murmured as he placed them artfully against the headstone.
They sat there, for a while. Dick glanced at… at Bruce’s hand, and settled down.
It’d been a while since they’ve spoken, but he knew what the man intentioned to do today. This will be the most Dick will have heard Bruce speak outside of his civilian obligations.
Bruce took the cue and gently opened Jason’s book. He’d bought it for Jason- the first gift- and he’d read it to Jason every night. Dick had a similar book.
“Call me Ishmael. Some years ago- never mind how long precisely- having little or no money in my purse…”
——
A boy with black hair and blue eyes wandered amongst the graveyard. They’ve been here for a while, and the man’s low rumble was soothing to listen to. The shades that hung about the graveyard settled as he read out loud from the book as his son sat quietly beside him.
As the boy, invisible and intangible, brushed his hand against the gravestone, he wondered why they were reading to an empty grave.
——
Dick had left long before Bruce did.
And when it was time to go, as stars began to climb and as the cold began to nip at his fingers, Bruce heard a quiet voice.
“Do not stand at his grave and weep,” and Bruce turned, recognizing the poem. “He is not there. He does not sleep.”
But there was no-one.
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you'll be alright, oh, here it is @magicshop ♡ (cr. namuspromised)
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zu-is-here · 10 days
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hall of a forgotten hero
[4/17] Underswap!Sans by p0pcornpr1nce
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hatsunemiku-official · 8 months
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16 years ago today I was released to the world ! thank you for all the birthday wishes, and here’s to 39 thousand more years of music !!!!!
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