#krasimer speaks

[krasimer]

STORY TIME!!

So

I should tell someone about how and why I was banned from playing Druids in my DnD group. 

I was playing a halfling Druid who was somewhat on the insane side of things. Her backstory involved her entire clan of the people who had raised her, including her wife, being killed while she was out in the forest with the other Druids. She collected teeth and bones from the casualties of the game. One time someone tried to steal her bag of holding that was just teeth and bones. She made arrows and bracelets out of them. She also collected feathers. 

For those who don’t know: A level 20 Druid can, in one version of the game, have a T-Rex as an animal companion. 

Also: They can cast polymorph on themselves. 

Also Also: They can summon a handful of 1HP faeries. 

Who can also cast Polymorph. 

When Polymorphed into a T-Rex, the person being Polymorphed has the IQ of a T-Rex. I could summon enough Faeries, at level 18, to Polymorph my entire party. There was no distinction between friend and foe, there was just T-Rex urges. Primal Rage, baby! Head and Butt attacks, double move!

It would have been glorious Chaos. 

I made it to level 16 before my DM took a look at my papers and what I was planning and said, “No.” 

I was not allowed to make a Druid character ever again.

[krasimer]

Right: Drawn in 2011

Left: Drawn today (9-23-2017)

Same character, drawn six years apart.

[krasimer]

So guess who was late for the art thing but decided to post their art anyway?

*finger guns* It’s me!

Anyway, have a creepy Antisepticeye. 

... @therealjacksepticeye  I hope you like this

[krasimer]

https://discord.gg/RmgTP5A

http://archiveofourown.org/users/Krasimer/pseuds/Krasimer

So as some of you know, I write fanfic. If you wanted to talk to me and sometimes get spoilers for stories I write because occasionally I just have to tell someone, you can join the Discord server I made. The link after that is to my AO3, which some of you may recognize.

[krasimer]

Thing I am grateful for: The people who put volume warnings on their vine compilations.

[krasimer]

So it’s been a while

How about another story from the life of Krasimer?

I’m a cosplayer. Firstly, let’s get that out of the way. Secondly, as many people who know me can attest to, I am absolutely batshit crazy about Halloween. Like, I start celebrating the moment August rolls around (Don’t you dare judge me.)

Anyway. 

Last year, for Halloween, I was in college. We were allowed to wear costumes on campus and there was a trick or treating event at my school. This allowed me to dress up as creepily as I wished because I have always wanted to do costumes in a major way -- I might do them for theaters at some point in the future? -- anyway. I wanted to do something simple that could be broken down easily if I wanted to move easier afterward. 

I chose Little Georgie, from It. As in, the creepy version of the child who got murdered. The version controlled by Pennywise. 

I had the balloon and everything. I had the raincoat. I had the boots. I had dark makeup smeared around my eyes and I had blood dripping down the sleeve of the coat. (Another story to tell later is the story of ACQUIRING THAT FUCKING COAT, but this is not that story.) 

I went to class. With my balloon, which I had rigged so that it “Floated” without helium -- I wrapped a thick wire in white yarn and made it look like it was a normal balloon. It just didn’t shift around and that creeped people out even more. 

But I went to class. 

Dude across the classroom wearing a pajama onesie looked up from where he sat down to see me sitting there. He squinted, frowned, looked a little closer and saw the special effects. He then jerked back in his chair and looked like he wanted to run away. 

He came up to me after class and asked me if I was Little Georgie. I said yes and he grinned. 

I should also mention, I do amateur voicework. I can imitate the, “You’ll Float Too!” thing. Like, dead-on. I did this in front of him and he almost fell over sideways. 

I got a lot of candy. 

Another “Should mention” thing was that it was EXTREMELY foggy that day. So I’m wandering around in a bloody raincoat, with a bright red balloon, in the thick fog and people cannot see me until they are right next to me. 

It was Beautiful.

And that was last Halloween. 

[krasimer]

Freeform

((I’m sorry, but after reading the latest chapter in ‘Here We Are We’re Back Again’, I couldn’t help myself. Have my headcanons about Ballora/Lara would be like after the events of your story.))

Sometimes, after it was all over, she felt the urge to dance. Her new legs (and they were such lovely legs, long and elegant and able to bend in ways she never could before) itched with the desire to move, to spin, to leap across the stage like never before. But she had became an expect in ignoring her body, when she was trapped on stage with nothing but the pains of electric shocks and her own mistreated form, and she could use that here, if she had to.

Lara didn’t want to dance. She didn’t have to dance- but at the same time, she did.

She never told any of the others, how could she? It was not that that none of them would understand, almost all of the other animatronics have been forced to do things, unsavory, horrible things… Compared to that, what was a few twirls?

Sometimes she found herself standing en pointe without even realizing it. Sometimes she couldn’t force her heels downwards, even after she realized what she was doing.

(Michelle checked and checked again, but there was nothing wrong with her body. Lara understood that it was etched into her programming, if not her very being, but it was nonetheless disconcerting.)

Whenever it happened, the feeling in her legs or her unruly heels or the dark thoughts that followed, Lara sought an escape. She socialized with her fellows, loudly and openly with no fear of reprisal. She spent time with Rica, as her Chica decided to call herself, and somehow that was different from spending time with anyone else, (even Mike, who won her eternal gratitude after what he did for them, and Bonny, who always managed to make her smile even on the worst days.) She curbed the urge to dance into other creative enterprises, such as singing (which everyone seemed to think she was somehow good at, even if Lara personally thought her voice was too deep and too somber to be truly enjoyable) and the violin (which she was… not as good at.) And of course, she painted.

In the beginning, once she was in her new perfect body, her restored sight was almost too much to bear. Everything was so bright, so full of light and color that it overloaded her. She refused to let Michelle lower the intensity of her vision, or even accept the sunglasses Mike tried to give her; she had missed these sights for so long, and she refused to let them be taken from her, even through all the pain. And slowly, her vision adjusted and she was able to fully appreciate the beauty around her. She wanted to keep that beauty with her, no matter what, and that’s when she began to copy it down, not trusting photographs to capture the emotions in the same way something drawn by hand would.

She started simply, little drawings on the corners of napkins and things such as that. Lara didn’t even think anyone noticed, and yet she was presented with a sketchbook and a set of colored pencils, and from them she moved to watercolors, then pastels until finally she was painting with oils on a canvas.

Her subjects were wide and varied, sometimes her friends, sometimes landscapes, sometimes things she had never seen before she was rescued, sometimes things she never wanted to see again. She was messy and inspired, imprecise and imperfect and she loved it. She painted things as the way she felt them, rather than the way they looked, and while the results were never perfect, she always finished with a smile (and occationally a little paint) on her face.

((I chose painting because it seemed to be the best way for her to harness her creative energy into something the most unlike the dancing she was forced to do. The dancing was forced and regimented, always going through the same basic routines, while painting is wild and with a different result, no matter what she does. It’s also the most 'free’ artform I could think of, since she has complete creative control over what she creates.

Of course, this is all obviously headcanons, so you don’t have to encorperate any of this into your series, but I just thought you might be happy to know you inspired me, even if it’s just a rambling sort of drabble written at 1:30 in the morning.))

-AB

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I don’t know if you are okay with me posting this, but I love it so much. I love it I love it I love it.