#maybe i’ll continue on one day

[andreai04]

We always look forward; never look back. But this thing ... it's different. It challenges us. It spits in the face of physics, anthropology, religion. It rewrites history. It dares us to question everything we know about ourselves ... about everything.

I want her and everyone involved—that means you too—to understand that the more chips we put on the table, the more difficult it becomes for us to fold.

—If you had an employee you knew was leaving in six months, just how much responsibility would you be willing to give her?

—I don't see your point.

—You work for someone who may lose his job after four years, who has to quit after eight. I am merely pointing out there are many things of interest to this nation that require a more long-term commitment.

—I'll be sure to mention that to the president.

Am I ready to accept all that may come out of this if it works? It might give us a cure for everything. It might also have the power to kill millions. Do I want that on my conscience? I wish I knew where this journey will take us, but I don't. All I know is that this is bigger than me, my self-doubt, or any crisis of conscience. I now truly realize how profoundly insignificant I am compared to all this. Why does that make me feel so much better?

Most people don't really have a purpose, a sense of purpose anyway, beyond their immediate surroundings. They're important to their family but it doesn't go much beyond that. Everyone is replaceable at work, friendships come and go.

Bluffing doesn't mean what it used to. No one wants an all-out war, and everyone knows it. Both sides know the other doesn't want a fight, so we push each other against the wall, a tiny bit further every time. It's all about saving face but, basically, we're playing chicken, and both sides think that they can do whatever they want because the other guy will never use its nuclear arsenal. It probably won't be today, but someday ... someday one of us is gonna be terribly wrong.

No one really wants to fight, but no one wants to be the one to back off either. It's a hundred times worse with military men, and a hundred times more so with politicians.

—What about you? You're fine with that? The end justifies the means, is that it?

—You make it sound as if I were irrational. Yes. I do think this particular end justifies considerable means. I draw the line somewhere, like everyone else. I just draw it based on reason and not emotions.

—So you'd let a few hundred people die? Would you stop for a thousand? How many lives are you willing to sacrifice for this? A million?

—Certainly not. But a thousand seems like a reasonable figure.

…we must draw the line somewhere if we’re to remain human.

You train your soldiers to kill using video games. They blow enough people up on their computer and it becomes easier for them to kill with a real weapon. Why do you think your government funds so many war and terrorism movies? Hollywood does your dirty work for you. Had 9/11 happened twenty years earlier, the country would have been in chaos, but people have seen enough bad things on their television screen to prepare them for just about anything.

War brings out the worst, and sometimes the best, in people.

How can we be accountable for our actions if we do not know what is expected of us?

[inthehouseoffinwe]

AU where even after death our favourite Finwëions are being stubborn as ever so a new solution is found. Finarfin just wanted to help his grandson in law.

Fëanor and Fingolfin are being stubborn as ever

It’s been three ages, their wounds are healed, they’ve made up and understood most of their deeds

But they cannot for the life of them get along, and everyone, from Mandos to their children and people, know that if they’re released in their current state, things will go right back to how they were

Even if their people are kept in line by their kids, it’s a very explosive situation

And in all honesty, Námo feels like they’ve put poor Finarfin through enough without this addition

He can’t keep them here forever. The halls aren’t meant to be a permanent residence unless it’s by choice, and they’ve started causing chaos in here too

…but speaking of the sons of Finwë

Finarfin himself isn’t doing particularly well right now. He feels great guilt for his inaction over the last two Ages, especially as Tyelpë and Ereinion turned up with their own tales

Then of course little Celebrian

(Doesn’t matter how much everyone tells him they’d genuinely be lost without him and his actions. The Noldor especially would’ve been outcast and alone. They needed a stable ruler, not another revolutionary. And the work he’s done is more impactful than either of his brothers ever managed)

Not to mention he’s still furious at his brothers despite what he’s convinced himself of

…and misses them greatly.

Truth be told, the Valar owe him a lot.

So they offer him a choice.

Ereinion’s skilled with managing all kinds of people and people don’t have a problem with the kid, so for a time he’ll be the High King

Finarfin is overjoyed at the chance to help his granddaughter’s family. Elrond is dear to many across all factions, and his children too.

…He’s less overjoyed at the news his brothers will be joining him if he agrees.

Nevertheless desire to be of use for once wins out and he accepts.

He gets a week or so to say his goodbyes and prepare for the journey. Asking around, particularly asking the third age elves who’ve recently arrived and Celebrian most of all, gets him the clothes and supplies he needs to somewhat blend in.

They’re still his colours (though he has none) and his symbol is carefully hidden under the cloak.

And he heads to the Hall’s Opening.

“For what it’s worth, Arafinwë, I’m sorry for the additional baggage. We’ve asked much of you, but hopefully this at least will benefit us all.”

Námo is kind when he stands and opens the gates.

“I know you’ve missed them too.”

The soft whisper dissipates into the wind with the Vala and now two figures are walking out. Tall. Broad shouldered. Eyes shining with light.

Clad in their usual blue and red, weapons strapped to their backs and hips.

Fëanaro and Nolofinwë have returned at last.

Before he can say anything there’s a whirl of light and the three elves are swept away.

Aragorn did not sign up for this

A bright flash of light all but blinds him, leaving three figures in its wake.

Three very tall. Very Elven. Figures.

And if that’s not enough, they look strangely familiar. Like he should know them from somewhere.

“That damn Vala! He couldn’t have warned us!”

And now they’re speaking Quenya.

“He did. It’s not his fault you don’t listen to anyone but yourself,” the one clad in blue says viciously.

The third elf, the only one with blond hair, groaned and glared at the two others. Aragorn winced at the look, thankful he wasn’t under it, though neither of the others so much as flinched.

“You’ve been back how long?” He scoffed. “And here I thought I missed you.”

To his credit the one in blue showed some regret and bowed his head. Beside him, the red one huffed, but it was much less heated, and his hands clenched into the leaves around him.

“Forgive me, Arafinwë,” the blue one said.

Aragorn’s hand found his blade. It couldn’t be…

“Depends what you want forgiveness for, Nolo,” was the cold reply, tinged with hurt.

No way.

But it was there. The uncanny resemblance to the portraits he’d seen in his books as a young boy learning his history. This was no doubt Fingolfin, and beside him Finarfin. Which only left-

“My feud with Fëanaro has long tainted our relationship, little brother,” the blue elf- *Fingolfin* replied bitterly, glaring at the third elf. “I’d like to start again.”

“Well I’d like you two to shove your issues aside for once and try and get along!” Finarfin hissed back, and his older brother’s eyes widened. “How long will you keep fighting?! How long will you divide your people, your children! How long will you make them suffer for your egos?!”

Aragorn expected Fëanor to scowl, angrily proclaim his youngest half brother had no right to speak that way, but the elf only glared into the floor. Fingolfin stared into the trees and Finarfin turned away, eyes clouding with pain.

Only to stare right at Aragorn.

“Fëanaro, Nolo. Swords up.”

To their credit the elves immediately stood and followed Finarfin’s gaze to Aragorn. The Ranger carefully stepped into the light as the three sons of Finwë stared him down.

“It is not polite to lurk, stranger.” Fingolfin said in the common tongue and Aragorn vaguely wondered if he’d been taught it in the halls. He put his hands up, free of weapons, and lowered his hood.

“Forgive me, my lord Fingolfin. But I had to identify if you were friend of foe. You appeared in a strange manner wearing faces of old, and the enemy is skilled in his deceit.”

“You dare accuse us of being Sauron’s creations?” Fëanor’s eyes lit with a fell fire and Aragorn would have shuddered was he not accustomed to seeing much worse from his own father. Elrond could be… rather terrifying when he decided he’d had enough of his son’s’ shenanigans.

“He was being cautious,” Finarfin retorted. “Something you could learn from considering how your life ended.”

“I didn’t know what Balrogs were!”

“The great Fëanaro admitting to not knowing something, have the end of days come at last?”

“Some would say his presence here is an indicator of that,” Fingolfin muttered as Fëanor scowled at the blond. The scowl turned to him and he met it squarely. “I said what I said.”

The situation was fast unravelling and Aragorn had Nazgul on his tail. For all his training in Elrond’s house, nothing had prepared him for dealing with three Princes - Kings??? - of the Noldor at each others throats. Sending a prayer that this wouldn’t get him skewered, he whistled sharply and the three elves spun his way. He raised his hands in apology.

“Orcs and other fell beasts roam these lands, my lords. I’d advise a quieter argument?” He grimaced at the two stunned faces, wondering when it would turn to explosive anger that ended the line of Elros once and for all.

But Finarfin tilted his head, a small smile playing about his lips.

“It takes great courage to step between the arguments of the House of Finwë. What’s your name, stranger.”

The Ranger bowed his head.

“The trees have ears, my lord, I’d take you to an Elven safehaven before telling you that. But for now, you can call me Strider.”

[the-bi-space-ace]

Okay I’m going to talk about cutting off Crosshair’s hand because while I know plenty of people see a lot of symbolism in it and think it was a good decision I have things to say about it.

I have CPTSD which has a lot of different symptoms. One of them is trembling or shaking. There’s a lot of complexities tied up in it but I’m not going to go into more detail because it’s not a fun thing to talk about.

What I liked about Crosshair’s trauma was that it impacted him not only mentally and emotionally but also physically. It’s very representative of what it’s actually like dealing with symptoms from something like PTSD and CPTSD (there are differences between these two that I won’t go into rn). I loved that we got to see a physical symptom of something psychological. It’s so rare that it’s handled well. Because yeah meditation and safety will help, certainly, but oftentimes it’s not the end all be all. I’m safe. I’m protected. I take care of my mental well being. But I still have symptoms that say the opposite. Because it’s not as simple as ‘no longer in the bad situation therefore the symptoms will stop’. I’ve made my peace that it’s lifelong and, honestly, Crosshair’s symptoms would be lifelong as well.

Cutting off his hand…

Here’s the thing.

The show really makes it seem like cutting off his hand is something he needed to move forward. He needed to be rid of the symptom because it was a physical reminder and it was holding him back from moving on. Cutting off the hand means no more shaking which means he’s healed. No more shaking hand=no more trauma. He can finally move on with his life.

And to that I say ouch.

There’s been plenty of times my symptoms are inconvenient to myself or others. Times when I wish I could just make it stop. Times when I’m terrified that it’s holding me back and I’m screwed up and that’s all I’ll ever be: broken. There are plenty of times I know people wish i could just knock it off and get over it and cut it out but that’s not how it works. Like I said. I’ve made peace with this thing that’ll be with me forever.

It was refreshing to see him try to adapt to dealing with it instead of ignoring it or trying to get rid of the part of him that was hurting. I loved that. It was such a freeing thing to see. Someone who will live with the hurt and the symptoms and it doesn’t make him any less. It just makes him have to do life a little different.

I hate that they cut off his hand. I hate that it wasn’t handled with any sort of nuance or delicacy. And I hate that this thing that made me so proud of him, so proud to share something with him, just got cut off for��� what? Shock? To ‘fix’ him?

If we had gotten more time with the loss of his hand maybe I’d feel differently. Hell, I’d love to see how Crosshair adapts to losing his hand, see how he learns to accommodate. It would give him and Echo something to bond over and talk about, finding healing with each other. I think this could’ve been done well. I’d still be on the fence about it but I would’ve held my breath and saw how it played out.

I fully expect people to roll their eyes at me here. I expect that people will say that I just don’t get it or that this isn’t what they intended. I’m sure this isn’t what they intended. At least I hope it isn’t. But what they intended doesn’t change how insensitively this was handled after a whole season of him unpacking his hurt and trying to learn to adapt to it. No one reacted to it, not even Crosshair, and we got no unpacking of what happened. I’m not happy with this but it is what it is I guess.

[valoale]

I painted Pansy last summer and I realised I never posted it and quite frankly forgot this existed

I like it, though

[undyinglantern]

[yesandpeeps]

Get in, loser, for the joyride 😝😝

[gothsuguru]

she’s real as fuck i’m obsessed w her

[fawcetttweets]

I need a new profile picture. Every time I see the picture I use now I think “Oh! It’s me!” Even when it very much isn’t. This is a problem all the time but especially when the main character in my tweets uses the exact same profile picture! Haha

[silentgrim]

when u want your gameplay to be a story so badly but you’re too lazy to do so

[ashysmultifandomcatdump]

wander <--> peepers bodyswap thoughts

the concept of a woy bodyswap thing has been taking over my mind lately…specifically between wander and peepers. they’re the most interesting option i think!!! they have a lot of parallels i feel but they don’t often get explored which is a shame because i love them. and i feel you can do more with them than other potential bodyswaps

read more is a bunch of thoughts i have about this concept!!! directly copied from a twitter threads i wrote about it so they’re a bit disjointed i don’t feel like writing anything more coherent at the moment

sylvia would recognize that wander isn’t himself like Right Away and would have some Fun tormenting peepers (psychologically. she would not harm a hair on wander’s head) and pretending that she Doesn’t know. (he might try to play the part of wander to idk gain info? try to capture them or something ?) but peepers might still figure out that she does. when this happens (or when sylvia gets tired of messing with him) they team up to grab wander and try to change the two back

now, on wander’s end. of course he’s going to take advantage of the swap as MUCH as he can. of course he’s going to try getting back to his own body! eventually!! but this is a huge opportunity to get close to hater as his Actual Best Friend!!! and to try his best to influence hater to do more good. lots of silly shenanigans unfold.

NOW. one of the aspects of this i REALLY find interesting. is how their luck shakes out

i’m not quiet about how much wander’s luck interests me. probability manipulation wander my beloved. whether it’s inherent to him, mysterious creature that he is, has something to do with the hat or both, i Like It A Lot. peepers lacks this luck—he’s a common victim to all the slapstick humor. but since they’ve swapped bodies, this is changed for them

peepers now has wander’s luck to protect him and wander loses it. and just WAUGGHH imagine how peepers feels the first time he notices this—when normally he’d fall square on his head he lands gracefully on his feet. where he’d get hit by whatever object makes most sense it narrowly avoids him. Suddenly he’s not a punching bag anymore. incredible

and on wander’s end—the exact opposite. wander is rarely on the receiving end of slapstick compared to the rest of the cast, and now he could get a Ton of it. idk! the concept just!! intrigues me!!! i want to know how he’d deal with all of this

it’s all fun and games at first but honestly i feel like it Could stress him out a good amount. especially considering he doesn’t have sylvia or (importantly) his hat who often ground him when he’s getting anxious. dude He Doesn’t Have His Hat!!! what is wander gonna do when he realizes peepers can’t function without heaps of coffee. for peepers this whole thing could actually be kind of a break. wander is going through Hell lacking his normal coping mechanisms. DOES ANYONE ELSE SEE MY VISION

[deityofhearts]

im ngl im getting to a point where I don’t want to try talking anymore because I keep getting talked over or ignored or having the subject immediately change regardless of if im done speaking or not

[deus-ex-mona]

my five surviving braincells when something remotely good happens:

[angelcakez-art]

Baghera Jones! 🐤🇫🇷

I saw people talk about how she’s depicted in racing jumpsuits sometimes due to her skill at racing games and it reminded me of one of my favorite To Alice collections so I wanted to draw her in something inspired by that lol, inspo under the cut

[anxeious]

"Why are you posting all the happy birthdays" anon you sound like a kill joy. Anyways happy birthday!!!!

🥳🎊🎉🥳🎊🎉🥳🎊🎉🥳🎊🎉🥳🎊🎉🥳🎊🎉

thank u!! and i appreciate the reassurance 🩵🩵

[cuteniarose]

nia, r u doing ok??

No.

[imogenkol]

— WIP WEDNESDAY

tagged by @socially-awkward-skeleton @inafieldofdaisies and @corvosattano thank you 💕💕💕

tag list (ask to be added or removed!): @marivenah @risingsh0t @jillvalentinesday @aceghosts @florbelles @v0idbuggy @shegetsburned @voidika @kyber-infinitygems @simonxriley @adelaidedrubman @eloquentmoon

Don’t have much this week so have the most pleasant interaction that Cal and Imogen have had so far (major Survivor spoiler mentioned!)

She almost did not entertain him with an answer, but her curiosity won out. “I was under the impression that you barely tolerate my presence, much less view me as a friend.”

Cal shrugged. “I didn’t know what else to call you.” 

Imogen pondered that as they continued on. She supposed – were she in Cal’s position – that she would not know what to call him either. Long ago, they used to be peers in the Order. Then they were false allies. Then enemies. Then allies once again, albeit tentatively. Naming him her rival did not quite fit, she was far too skilled to be truly threatened by his abilities. She hated him, but felt less alone at his side. Did a word really exist for what they were? 

“Am I?” Imogen asked, breaking the silence. Cal glanced at her in question. “Your friend?”

His mouth opened and then closed as his brow furrowed. Clearly, the Jedi struggled to place it as well. He took a deep breath and said “After everything we’ve been through… I don’t know, maybe you could be?” 

Everything we've put each other through, more like, Imogen thought.

“Have you not learned your lesson when it comes to companions?” 

The jab was as lighthearted as she could manage, but he must have grown used to her brash tone because he smiled briefly. “I didn’t see it with Bode. His betrayal completely blindsided me. With you, I expect it. I guess I find that kind of comforting in a weird way. No surprises.”

Imogen hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “That is probably wise, Cal. However, I have begun to make a habit out of subverting expectations.” 

“Since when do you have anything to prove?” he asked with amusement. 

“Since I discovered that I have much to prove to myself.”