cityarcade | Secret Santa Day Three

Here we are on the third day of Chrismukkah!

Each day from now through Christmas, you'll find a post like this one waiting. Leave anonymous comments with your gift for your Secret Santee (make sure to put his or her name in the subject line so they can find it!). Remember, it's okay if you don't have something every day. We do, however, encourage you to leave a little note to let them know they haven't been forgotten. Christmas Day will be a free-for-all, where you can leave presents for anyone at all and, if you so desire, reveal your identity.

Let the gift-giving begin.

NOTES: Passwords for various uploading sites, galleries, the game anon account, etc., are available here. For those of you who'd like to play around with some Photoshop but don't have access, Pixlr is a fantastic online alternative that comes close. And remember, if you're posting pictures, they won't show up in an anonymous comment, so for those kinds of comments, it's better to use the

citysecrets account.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Y O U ' V E B E E N W E A T H E R I N G T H E S T O R M
a mix for tris prior
1. "girl in the war," josh ritter
i got a girl in the war, paul
i know that they can hear me yell
if they can't find a way to help her
they can go to hell

2. "fake empire," the national
turn the light out, say goodnight, no thinking for a little while
let's not try to figure out everything at once
it's hard to keep track of you falling through the sky
we're half-awake in a fake empire

3. "après moi," regina spektor
i must go on standing
you can't break that which isn't yours
i must go on standing
i'm not my own, it's not my choice

4. "somewhere a clock is ticking," snow patrol
in slow motion, the blast is beautiful
doors slam shut, doors slam shut
a clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away
safe and sound, safe and sound

5. "animal," ellie goulding
you have stolen all my senses, there's a fever in my heart
and you are taking my defenses, you are pulling me apart
forever we're young and we are dying
and we will be spilling all our blood

6. "run," daughter
we will step outside
checking that the coast is clear on both sides
we don't want to be seen
oh, this is suicide
but you can't see the ropes

7. "the storm," boy and bear
we are the fugitives
and we'll keep running for our lives
'cause one nor a hundred men
could keep us from clinging to our pride
'cause it's been blowing hard, and it'll wait for no one
oh, and i'm not leaving nothing to the grave
we'll keep running with the masses just to show them the way

8. "uprising," muse
interchanging mind control
come, let the revolution take its toll
if you could flip a switch and open your third eye
you'd see that we should never be afraid to die
so come on, rise up and take the power back

Edited 2016-12-22 11:30 (UTC)

Santa, this is wonderful. Thank you, THANK YOU.

It's the thought that counts?

And the DW points in your inbox :3

Edited 2016-12-22 19:06 (UTC)

Sharks! Why did it have to be sharks?! :D

Thank you, Santa!

For the third day, a Raven Reyes playlist, and some points for the lovely lady!

This is awesome I will be listening to this all week THANK YOU :D

Since he's getting married tomorrow, Santa thought Eduardo could use some paid time today!

Ahhhhh, thank you, thank you, Santa! :-* Such perfect timing!

Santa had a very ambitious idea to make a Padme-centric art for you that incorporated space photos. It turned into a stained glass in front of stars? Think young scions of the Rebel Alliance, learning the history of their forebears through inset windows and looking up at them with the galaxy behind them.

Or something! We're not sure exactly how we like this, but we hope you do! ;)

Ohmygod ohmygod ohmygod I love this. It's gorgeous, Santa, thank you so much! And that idea is just gorgeous and I'm kind of upset about it. <3333333

Edited 2016-12-23 10:47 (UTC)

On the third day of Christmas, have some nonsense:

And a video for you!

Santa I wish you could see my face rn bc I can't

I can't even omg

Late Santa is late but I hope this ficlet makes up for it~

Magnus always thought of mortals like candles. Bright flames that danced and flickered and sparked. Beautiful and fascinating and just dangerous enough to burn. But inevitably, they sputtered out and died. That transience was part of their beauty. More than that, it inspired Magnus to stay alive. Age wore on you, made you cynical and brittle, fossilized you. Connections with life, however brief the life or the connection, made you want to live.

She wasn’t a very good singer. That was the first thing Magnus thought as he and a group of friends seated themselves in the disreputable Kit Kat Klub. His friends insisted that he was an awful singer, completely ignoring Magnus’ insistence that they simply didn’t understand music. So he did not judge her harshly for being middling at best. The thought quickly faded anyway, replaced by the certain need to have her in his company.

She was a gem in a tarnished setting, not diamond but cubic zirconia. Everything about her was fake but what mattered was how she sparkled despite it. She joined them at their table, plopped herself down in Magnus’ lap. He was wearing the best clothes of the lot, gold buttons and diamond cuff links. The candlelight almost hid the nicotine stains on her teeth and fingers, made her eyes look bright and blue, lengthened the shadows to give her curves she did not have.

He whispered all the words he needed to and brought her home. He showered her with gifts -- flowers, dresses, nylons, perfume, jewelry, a half dozen bottles of that emerald green polish she loved -- and she came home with him more often than not. She was a smart girl, after all.

Nothing about it was real. Between the gin and champagne and cocaine, there were moments. A kiss that went too long, too soft. A glance that held too much. He liked to think that she had grown as accustomed to him as he to her, that she felt too how well they worked. They were both beings of flash and smoke, held together by lies. Perhaps they could hold each other together as well.

Perhaps Magnus was too soft. She always broke the kiss; she always turned away. When their hands joined, their fingers entwined, she was the one to fiddle with his rings and let loose his hand. It was for the best, he told himself, and he knew that it was true. She never cut too deeply; she carried blunt knives, only a dim understanding of who he was and how he worked. She didn’t know how to wield them. But it was reminder enough of Camille, of his heart still wounded, that whenever she did pull away, he didn’t suffer for it. Light and carefree, heated spats about nothing that ended in fantastic sex, to shower someone in affection and gifts and know for certain sure that they would never be rejected -- these were the things he needed to heal. She needed someone to take care of her, to keep her clothed and fed and liquored, to adore her even where she fell short.

Whatever else she needed, he could not give. And she did not have the strength to admit.

It ended as he knew it would, inevitably with a lie. He admired too much her ability to commit to a lie to explain that it was physically impossible for a man like him to father a child. He considered staying. He considered rising to the challenge of her falsehood, to brazenly accept whatever toe-headed, blue-eyed child she gave birth to. It was only fair to meet her halfway, wasn’t it?

But there was a time for honesty: Berlin was not the place for a free-wheeling, bisexual, half-Indonesian such as him anymore. His papers were flawless, but it became clear that they would soon only be papers, nothing more.

Sally would survive. It was what girls like her did. Magnus would run. It was what men like him did.

He left her money, more than enough for her condition, and a ticket out to Paris. He knew it would all go to shiny things and dust. But that wasn’t really the point. He wanted to believe that she was safe somewhere, happy somewhere, singing (moderately well) somewhere. He wanted to believe that she was loved somewhere, the way she needed to be, if not deserved to be.

He always was a dreamer.

SANTAAAAAAaaa!!!! I DON'T EVEN HAVE WORDS. This is so Sally, this is so them, I love this so much? I am just sitting at work screaming internally, as one does. I love what they have now and I love this glimpse at what could have been in another world (and Sally loves the idea of living like that). Thank you!! ♥♥♥♥♥

Replying on CitySecrets so I don't narrow down your identity any more than it may have already been narrowed (idk, I give Stef credit):

This is AWESOME, Santa. Chin in hands.

Secret Santa Day Three

Ria

Re: Ria

Sarah B (lessthanpie)

Re: Sarah B (lessthanpie)

Jess

Re: Jess

Laine

no subject

Julia!

Re: Julia!

Kat

Re: Kat

STEFFFfff

Re: STEFFFfff

Re: STEFFFfff