#we lives an absurd distance from everyone I know

[mastermindmiko]

The Ear that wasn't

pairing: George Weasley + reader

word count: 1,312

warning: injuries, death and it's a bit angst

Summary: After the battle of the seven (eight) Potters, George becomes distant, and you decide to find out why

masterlist

After moving to the Burrow, things have changed. Everyone’s more sombre, and the world seems a little darker. The impending doom of Voldemort’s terror a bit more real. Madeye died and Hedwig as well when we were attacked while moving from Privet Drive to here. It was fun pretending to be Harry for a bit, the polyjuice potion wreaked and tasted awful, but looking like someone else was amusing, that was before death eaters started throwing spells left and right at least. 

The most noticeable change in my life was the distance that George has been placing between us for a month since we came here. The first two days I stayed by his side while he was recovering from becoming ‘holey’. We couldn’t bring any medics to the Burrow, so we all had to make due with our collective medical knowledge; finding spells to ease the pain, recalling how to put on a proper bandaid, and how to stop the blood from gushing. 

Fred and I were riding together, and went to the Burrow via another route along with the others in order to confuse the death eaters as to who was Harry while George was getting hit with a sectumsempra. We arrived at the Burrow and there seeing Hermione’s sad expression looking at me and Fred made my heart lurch to my throat. I couldn’t recall a time I’d run faster inside to find George lying on the sofa. 

I spent the first few days tending to him, and spending as much time near him as possible, mostly due to the nature of our relationship and also to take care of him. We’d only gotten news about his ear when we finally reached madame pomfrey (a trustworthy person) who told us that George wouldn’t be able to get his ear back. I’d expected it, but George seemed heartbroken. 

I stayed behind after dinner, tidying up the table at a slower pace than usual, watching as George cleared the cups too. His movement is precise but never without a little whimsy. The bandage is still wrapped around his head, and he starts shoving cups between the crook of his elbow to hold more in one go. I clear my throat, “How do you feel?” 

“Well.” 

I sigh, knowing how curt all his replies have been. He heads into the kitchen and I continue to stack the rest of the plates before waving my wand, sending them into the kitchen. I walk behind them and point my wand into the sink, allowing them to gracefully pile up inside. The magical tools get to work and start rinsing. 

I look into the living room first looking for George, and I see him sitting on the couch twirling around his wand, and staring off deep in thought. Madame Pomfrey had informed us that his (additional) lack of focus could occur due to the concussion and spell, as well as some loss of balance. I gulped, “Do you need anything?” 

“No.�� He grumbles, and leans back sinking into the sofa. I walk closer to him and take a seat beside him. He doesn’t bother to spare me a glance. I bit my lip and hesitantly said, “We can go take a nap for a bit in the room if you’d like?” 

“I don’t need you fussing over me.” George snaps, and I purse my lips, used to this attitude from him over the past month. I shuffled closer to him, and confessed, “I’m not fussing over you, I just want to spend time with you.” 

He sets his wand aside and sighs. He puts his head in his hands, hunching over his thighs. The fire crackles and fills up the silence between us. I place a comforting hand on his back, stroking his skin, feeling the soft material of his shirt and his vertebrae. He sighs once more, and deep in thought he whispers, “Why?” 

“Because you’re my boyfriend.” I chuckle at the absurd question, even when he wasn’t I loved spending time with him. He looks at me, palm holding his cheek, and my amusement dies down from seeing his miserable eyes, and wrinkled eyebrows. My hand lifts from his back and moves to his hand. I ask, “What’s going on, George?” 

“I-” he stutters, and looks away. I squeeze his hand supportively, and he closes his eyes. I let all the thoughts that have been jumping around in my head stay for a second of all the things he could say, the most prominent being: I don’t love you anymore. He sucks in a breath and turns back to lock into my eyes. He mused, “I’m not good-looking anymore, and I don’t want you to not want me.” 

I blink, and process. George, the ever confident, forever handsome, cocky and funny George Weasley doesn’t think he’s good-looking anymore. What would even make him think- oh…the accident. I say, “Is this about your ear?” 

He looks away once more and I know that it’s the truth. I start rubbing comforting shapes over the back of his hand, and I reach over to grab his other hand. I protested, “I don’t think you’ll ever stop being good-looking, not to me.” 

He scoffs, not believing my words. I could see his eyes begin to have a slight shine to them. I pout at his expression, and I drop his hand to reach over and cup his cheek. I turn his head towards me, and brush my thumb over his cheekbones. He let out a bitter chuckle before he smiled, sputtering, “I’m practically deformed.” 

I smile at him, and give him a look. I lean into him, smelling his familiar scent that I haven’t been able to smell in a while. The wood and biscuits engulf my senses. I kiss his lips, and his eyes flutter momentarily to a close. I let my lips linger near his before pulling away and watching his closed eyes as he sighs before looking back at me. I whisper, pulling his face to mine, “Even if you were a troll, I’d still love you George.” 

He gulps and checks my eyes for any glimmer of a lie. He leans into my hand, and pouts. He relaxes looking at my face before slowly turning his head to press a kiss to my inner palm. His lips linger and he cups my hand with both of his. He kisses it again before adding, “I don’t want you to not be attracted to me.” 

“You’re plenty attractive George with or without two ears.” I commented. He squeezes my hand, the warmth of his fingers spreading to mine, providing a comforting head during the dead of winter. I convince, “And I believe that there’s more to our relationship than just your looks, George. There’s your wit, and your kindness, and your humour- and I could go on for so long, so you’ll have to stop me, and your smile and laugh, your courage-” 

“I get it, I get it.” George chuckles, and pulls our intertwined hands back up to his lips to press a kiss on each of my knuckles, feeling his warm breath on my hand and the softness of his lips on each of my knuckles. He gazes at me sincerely and says, “Thank you.” 

“It’s only the truth.” I state, and he pulls me into a long and deep hug, resting his head into the crook of my shoulder, giving me kisses whenever he sees fit. My arms still reach after him when he pulls away to say, “I’d also still love you even if you were a troll.” 

“Thank you, that’s good to know.” I laugh, and I finally see that wonderful humorous grin of his. He stands up and encases my hand to pull me up beside him. He presses his lips to mine then suggests, “How about that nap?” 

a/n: I really wanted the gif to be the scene when Harry and Ginny are kissing and he goes "Good morningg", but alas I couldn't find one, so this will have to make do. Hope you liked this one.

[hawkeyeslaughter]

i think the reason i’ll always be so attached to henry blake is because i’ll always be a little insane over the position he was written into . like it’s different with potter . potter obviously had a softer , more human side , but when you think potter you think military man first . and to an extent it’s supposed to be like that . they introduce him like that , despite the fact that at the end of the first episode he’s in it shows him drinking with hawkeye and bj to say “ hey , he’s not completely like the other army crazy officers that have been in the show “ . but at the same time , there’s a constant reminder , in his mannerisms , in the way he’s addressed , in the way he just knows the army … he’s a military man first .

and , god , we all know it was never like that with henry , but i don’t think we ever realize the extent to which it was never really like that . from the get - go , he’s seen being more lax with the members of the 4077th . his first scene is him opening a bottle of champagne with a nurse . the way hawkeye talks about him in his letter to his dad … he refers to him as henry , cracks a few jokes about him , immediately the impression the audience gets is that this is the opposite of a military man . you’re supposed to be surprised that he’s in charge .

and maybe that’s why i find him so tragic , because he’s everything and he’s nothing . we have the expectation for him to be a colonel , but while he has the title , he’s just … not . and at the same time , he’s expected to be a friend . hawkeye and trapper always take for granted that henry is their friend , i mean , hell , they even get annoyed with him when he puts his foot down over something they do ( because he’s supposed to , he’s a colonel after all , remember ? ) . he’s expected to be a friend , but at the same time … he can’t .

and it’s even WORSE when you think about his role as a doctor because he’s supposed to be a caretaker and a commander … he’s supposed to save lives but at the same time he has to decide if they’re worth saving more often than hawk and trap do … and in episodes like aid station or the rainbow bridge he had to decide who’s life he had to put on the line even though he’s just not cut out for that . he has to care but at the same time he can’t care too much because he has to keep his composure … he can’t care in the same way that trapper and hawkeye do , even if it’s obvious that he does . he can’t , the military won’t let him . because he can’t just be a doctor , he has to a commander as well . 

not even to mention his relationship with radar . like , henry was so obviously a father figure to him , he obviously loved him , yet over and over again he keeps his distance from him ( and while i think this partially is a result of the fact i just think henry has a hard time voicing how much he cares about people … if i loved you less maybe i could talk about it more , etc etc … , that’s a whole different conversation ) , and i definitely think that is because of his position too . he can’t be a family member . he has to be a leader , he has to follow the guidelines that the military has set for him . he has to treat radar the same way he treats everyone else under his command .

it’s so absurd and maybe that just adds to the comedy of it but it’s also like … he truly was just never supposed to be there . they tried to make him tougher and to an extent they tried to make him a fighter and there’s a reason it just never worked , because henry was always supposed to be a lover . making him colonel blake was like putting a round peg in a square hole and i’m pretty sure it killed him way before that plane ever crashed into the ocean . it’s just not fucking fair .

[amymbona]

What if... Tashi wasn't the only one who suffered from an injury. What if you, a random girl from Stanford, that somehow became close with all three of the messy lovers, went on to have a successful career, that ended within a moment, just like Tashi's.

You became close to Art and Tashi during your Stanford years, having proven yourself as a sweet and yet equally as talent tennis player. Art had a bit of a crush on you, finding it slightly conflicting, especially since the main point of his interest used to be Tashi. The two have introduced you to Patrick as well, as he basically came like an inseparable part of the 2 + 1 pack. Eventually, it was you plus them, them plus you, and you became their little thing.

After Tashi's injury, her and Art's break-up with Patrick and all the events at the end of the school year, you found yourself in the middle of the mess. You couldn't really bear it, the intensity of Tashi's desire fueled by the need to be as close to tennis as possible, Art's indecisive and idiotic persona, and Patrick's bleeding, solving-everythin-by-sex attitude.

You lived with Patrick for a few months, the two of you fucking every so often, but the moment he began slacking off and turning to alcohol and nicotine for comfort, it was enough. Even after Patrick's heartbreaking promises and Art's unsuccessful attempt to reach out, you completely distanced yourself from the three. Then, it was just you.

Unfortunately, you couldn't escape the three fully. Patrick would bombard your phone with long messages and voice mails, sometimes accompanied by low quality videos of him jerking off and saying how much he missed you. He'd show up at your place a few times as well, and you had to physically kick him out. Art and Tashi were equally as difficult to avoid, as they were now the player-coach duo, attending the same matches as you. Luckily, they never spoke to you.

All in all, you were living your life. Yes, with an aching hole in your heart, but tennis was big enough to fill it. Until it leaves a hole even bigger.

"She's trying to get her to twist her own feet. Look, that ankle's gonna roll, I can see it." Tashi mutters anxiously, slipping her own hand into her husband's. The two have been watching your match against some australian player from the bleachers, not liking where it's been going at all.

"Right," Art agreed with a gentle squeeze of Tashi's hand. It really doesn't look good. You're constantly jumping from left to right, and the playstyle characteristic to yourself makes you swing on your right foot while you just move your left one over it from wide to side. They've seen you pull this move at Stanford a million of times, with you insisting it saves breath from moving too far, but they've also heard you whimper when you couldn't walk properly. "We told her to stop doing that ages ago."

And then it happens. A fraction of moment, when something snaps, the top of your foot kissing the pavement, and then you're on the floor, clutching your leg in pain.

Tashi is, surprisingly, is the first person by your side, pushing everyone away and just holding you in her arms. You sob and sob and sob, the weight of it all falling onto you, and the Donaldsons accompany you to the hospital. They stay with your for days and then take you home - to their home - because they know you can't be left alone.

And they call Patrick too, something they have sworn to never do, but eventually Art is the one to break the no contact rule and calls his former best friend. The guy is in their residence within hours, not caring at all that he had to fly from the very other side of the state.

It's almost comical, absurd and ironic even, how your sudden injury cause the three to reconcile. All the fights are long forgotten, and nobody even gets the chance to throw a jab at one another, not when they see you finally asleep in Tashi and Art's bed, clad in one of her silk pyjama sets, your poor, swollen ankle wrapped in a tight layer of white, heavy plaster cast. At that moment, all three of them hold hands and comfort one another because they know that you need them right now, that they have to be strong and mature for you.

You don't speak, you don't eat, and Art has to physically carry you to the bathroom so you can at least take a piss and wash your teeth. After Tashi successfully manages to push a few spoons of mashed potatoes past your lips, Patrick sits next to you for hours, just silently stroking your back and telling you that you're beautiful every so often.

Suddenly, you have everything you have hoped for, everything you missed and mourned, but at what cost? You've lost what was most important to you - your tennis career, even more successful than Tashi's, full of more accomplishments than all the three players combinwd - and what do you have now? Nothing, or everything?

[alice-angel12x]

Death isn't so scary

Lilia x Death! reader

(behold my amateur photoshop skills)

Lilia had lived a very long life, and had seen many things come and go. The world was constantly changing, spells, technology, and even fashion statements were different in a flash. Yet There was one thing, or one person who never changed, not even time could change them, other than the names they went by.

Lilia could remember clearly as day the first time they saw Y/n of Death. It was during the war between Humans and Fea. In one of the battles the humans faced a humiliating loss, and General Lilia and his army reviled in their victory. When he noticed a lone figure on the field. Draped in a dark cloak, with chains tied around the hip that two scythes dangled from their hip.

The young cocky warrior Lilia thought the figure was a single surviving human left. With a smirk, he decided to scare the life out of this human. So with his large jade buster blade, teleported above and tried to slam down on the figure.

Only for the figure to stop the blade with one of their scythes. Lilia struggled to force the sword down or break free from the entanglement. But the scythe's curved blade caught the silver vines that wrapped around Lilia's own. Yet the figure stood perfectly still as the continued to block the blade.

"Your quite strong for a mortal, where were you when your friends needed you," Lilia smirked as his allies gathered around.

"Your a bit late human," The general mocked, as the rest laughed.

"Do not laugh," The figure scoffed. " DO NOT BE PROUD OF THIS MASSACRE!!"

With one swift movement, the figure sent the small Fae troop flying.

________________________________________

I remember clearly when they warned us Fae that we greatly underestimate humans. And that they will be back for us soon. Of course in my youth I did not believe them.

Yet their promise would soon be fulfilled as the humans started getting stronger. I began to lose my friends and allies left and right, with that eerie whistle haunting me every step of the way.

Eventually, both sides came to a draw, much to Fae kinds Ego. The thought of even acknowledging humans disgusted them. I wasn't the same after the war. We Fae live for so long that we forget that ultimately we are all powerless to death.

One night, when I went out to mourn the loss of my allies. When I noticed a familiar figure in the distance. I silently approached as I watched them pay their respects to the fallen. I could even see the sparkle of tears run down their face as they placed a flower on each of the graves.

"I know your there, General Lilia. Congratulations on your promotion by the way," Death said simply, not even turning to face Me.

"What are you doing here, demon?" I glared as I clutched my fist.

"Still refuse to admit what I am. Why are all Fae like this?" Death said with an annoyed sigh.

"What! It is your fault that they are dead. You cut their lives short!" I shouted as I readied my weapon.

"My fault... MY FAULT!" Death shouted in rage as they knocked me off my feet, slamming me into a tree. "I never really understand why you fae were made this way. I told Life that giving them a millennium's worth of life, absurd."

"You Fae think because you live so long you are above everything. Even your queen brags how she is above death," Death growled as they reached for my blade. "You take things for granted and waste your time in this life, believing your hot $&@%."

I wanted to shout, scream that they were wrong. They were just cruel being that takes life as they, pleased. Memories of my loved ones flashed in my mind, only for the images to fash to their course in the mud. Suddenly my blade was logged into the tree next to my face.

"Pick it up," Death ordered, but... I couldn't everyone I love and care for... Are gone.

"Why did you spare me?" I asked hopelessly.

"Spare you... I did not spare you. Your skills and luck are what saved you. My job is simply to be there when mortal life is about to end," Death said as they stared into my soul. " Don't take anything in life for granted, no matter how fast and fleeting it may seem. And by the end of your life, you will be content."

They said as they pulled away to turn and leave. I... I had to ask. Why were they... Death themself giving me life advice.

"Because it will be important later down the road. When you will teach this to Malleus, Silver, and Sebek," They answered.

"W-who?" I asked, those were names I couldn't recall.

"They will look to you when the time comes, take good care of them," Was all they said.

-------------------------------------------------------------

Years later I would meet these people, very talented young Fae and human. And I'm glad I did stop to smell the roses of life. I never realized just how quickly humans changed, from technology to even fashion statements. And Every once and a while, no matter where in the world I went. They were there. At times they were in a place of mourning, but a lot of the time they were smelling the roses too.

Never once in my life would I ever thought I would spend a good century getting to know Y/n of Death. One could even say we're friends. But after some time, Y/n just vanished suddenly. Until now.

One night, Malleus vanished on one of his strolls. As Sebek and Silver ran all over the school in search of the prince. I decided to check around ramshackle, where I heard a familiar haunting whistle.

So I only did the logical thing, and whistle along as I followed the sound to its source. And there they were, the same wolf-eared figure standing alone in the open field behind Ramshackle.

"Greetings old friend," I spoke up, Y/n's ears flicked in acknowledgment as they turned to look back at me.

"Hello to you too, Lilia. Wow, you sure look old," Y/n laughed.

I rolled my eyes with a small laugh and stood next to them, as we both just enjoyed the beautiful night.

___________________

Bonus scene: inspired by an anonymous ask.

After many late-night game sessions and improper sleep, Lilia slowly follows behind Malleus and Silver. As his eyes wandered his eyes soon landed on his ancient friend, who was walking towards them. Y/n noticed Lilia's stares, so they stopped to greet them. Only to be met with Lilia's tired mumblings.

"You look like you're going to drop dead. Are you ready to cross over?" Y/n asked as a joke.

"Alright...HIT ME" Lilia shouted as he stood tall with his arms wide open.

Everyone standing around, including Malleus and Silver, look on in shock.

"..I'm sorry what ?" Malleus asked.

"I said, you can go ahead...take me, angel," Lilia said as he fell forward into Y/n's arms.

Y/n chuckle softly as they scoop up the tiny old fae and just handed him over to Silver.

"...Your dad is tired..isn't he ?" Y/n commented with an amused smile.

"I can see that now." Silver nodded.

[spooky-circuits]

can we get clay and viva reaction to the whole kids appeared at the putt putt course

Viva starts talking about how excited she is that Poppy is finally safe here with her and how all her friends will be safe too now that they’re here. In her excitement she doesn’t notice the looks they give each other behind Poppy.

Clay is surprised his baby brother managed to find him with just a group of teenagers he’s as impressed as he is concerned. They tell him about how excited their families will be to know more trolls survived and he realizes that “Oh they aren’t random orphans these kids have a home to go home too.” He knows Viva won’t want to let them risk going home. Especially now that Poppy is in the picture. He understands how she feels all too well now that Branch is here in front of him for the first time since the fight and getting separated in the escape. He doesn’t regret going with Viva that night but there are days where he can’t help but think about the family he’s lost.

Clay doesn’t stop Viva when she tells the snack pack they aren’t leaving and feels guilty when Branch gives him that look of betrayal when he doesn’t speak up.

Viva is scared of loosing her sister and would hate if these kids got eaten just because they want to play action hero. She has to be the responsible one even when these kids look scared of her when she tells them they can’t leave the safety of the golf course. She knows they’ll understand once they see how safe it is here.

Branch says something to Clay from behind the door of the room the kids have been put into. “You know you aren’t going to be able to keep us here right? I don’t know if you noticed but my friends are really good at sneaking out.” Clay still feels guilty but Viva had made some good points Branch just needed to see how great this place was. “Come on Branch I know it doesn’t seem great but you’ll like it here!” The room is quiet behind him. “Branch?… Bitty B?” He opens the door to find a hole in the floor. “Wow he wasn’t kidding about their escape skills… Oh Shit!”

Viva is heartbroken that her sister would just leave she had really thought Poppy would understand but she hadn’t and her sister was gone all over again. Worse than that Clay was grabbing supplies like he was planning to leave too. “Clay what are you doing?” Her voice sounds so small Clay can’t remember the last time he heard her sound like that. She was usually so full of life and energy he hates that he made her sound like that. “I have to go after them Viva. I know you’re scared but I won’t be able to rest until I know Branch is okay. You understand that don’t you.” And she does understand. She hates that she doesn’t have the courage to go out and find Poppy. “I’ll bring Poppy back for you too. So you can stay here and look after everyone.” She hates how he’s making excuses for her but she can’t bring herself to disagree. “Just… just be safe. I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you too.” Clay smiles at her. “Did you forget who put all the fire exits in Viv? Safety is my middle name!” She smiles but her face goes serious again quickly. “I mean it Clay I don’t want to loose any more people.” He smiles at her with sad eyes. “I know… Don’t worry I’ll bring them back soon.”

The snack pack was already a good distance from the golf course before they feel comfortable slowing down and Guy goes “I’m sorry your siblings ended up being uh…” he doesn’t want to say anything hurtful since Poppy was clearly torn up about having to leave Viva. Branch just looks at him like “Uh yeah thanks Guy.” Creek speaks up “At least 1 out of 3 secret siblings turned out alright.” It’s poorly timed but it manages to actually get a laugh out of everyone with how absurd their day has been. Branch especially can’t stop laughing. “Oh that’s horrible Creek why would you even say that!”

[prettyoddfever]

hi! there’s a poem that brendon supposedly posted in august 2008 on “dylan’s myspace” that a lot of fans call “the summer poem” and i was wondering if you could confirm if he wrote it or not. i know you touched on the fact that there were a lot of fake accounts made around that time, but this specific poem has always felt more genuine than other posts and the writing style fits his tone. i’ve always really liked it, but i was never 100% sure of its validity. thank you!

ok so I had to google this to see what the "summer poem" was and I found this tumblr post, which had this link at the bottom:

and that links to the dilloncornbreadandchicken myspace as the source of that poem, which explains everything.

So towards the end of the Honda Civic Tour (and shortly after Pete Wentz got married), one of Pete's dog Hemingway's supposed extra myspace accounts posted a bulletin that said “it would make me happy if you would add my buddy dillon. here's his myspace" and linked to the dilloncornbreadandchicken account. The fact that Dylan's name was spelled wrong and she was misgendered was a little weird. Also, Hemingway's real account didn't post anything about this. (Side note: Yes, Panic's myspace got hacked around the end of the Honda Civic Tour, so even the legit myspace accounts could occasionally do something unusual. Also can I please just complain that the hackers could have posted some highly entertaining stuff "from Adam" on Panic's myspace if they'd had any imagination. Like we all know what's going on, so why not just do something absurd for a laugh).

But the dilloncornbreadandchicken account seemed questionable on its own anyways. Keep in mind that a lot of fans were obsessed with the idea that Brendon & Shane were dating... like a lot of the Ryden enthusiasm got channeled there in 2008 because at least it still implied that Brendon was into guys.

Some random things that seemed odd to me:

Several of the pictures on that myspace were absolutely not Dylan. Similar looking dog, but definitely not her.

One of the songs that played on Dillon’s profile was “Ur So Gay” by Katy Perry.

The account said things like "yea i have 2 daddys... out of the ordinary? daddy brendon and shane both take excellent care of me.”

Many girls had convos with the “Shane and Brendon” who ran that myspace. That account was also very active with replying & commenting on other's profiles. June was still a busy month for the real Brendon, who was finishing the Honda Civic Tour (and doing a lot of publicity/media stuff) and then getting ready for Europe.

In July (while the band was still in Europe), fans asked Shane about Brendon's comment to Kerrang about how the last time he cried was when he heard that Dylan ran away for a few days. Shane explained that Dylan was living with his parents while Panic was on tour, and that she'd run away on a nearby golf course to chase rabbits for a few days. Shane also apparently seemed confused when a fan at the Astoria show told him she was friends with Dylan on myspace.

There were a ton of fake myspace & facebook accounts for everyone in PATD over the years. Some of them even managed to spell Brendon's name right. But Brendon just would not be talking to fans on myspace like that (or even be on myspace at that point period). The band had stopped doing even basic journal updates by 2008, but even in 2006 Brendon & Ryan had put a lot of distance between themselves and fans, and we heard from them less & less. The guys didn't even run their band's social media in the Fever era. This whole episode reminded me of how in late 2006 many middle school girls swore they'd been talking to Ryan on AIM and he'd shared secret lyrics with them, and I was like omg common sense please.

The person who wrote that "summer poem" sounds like a school schedule still factored into their awareness, and they're possibly trying to make a subtle connection to Brendon's old part_time_lovah livejournal account. I stopped paying attention to the dilloncornbreadandchicken myspace after seeing so many big fans similarly conclude that it was fake, so I don't remember much about the poem. I'll only say that it should be regarded with some suspicion... even just posting a poem anywhere online like that would have been very out of character for Brendon. (For context, that poem was posted while Brendon was busy being a tired, sick, sweaty mess on tour in Asia and the band was heading to Australia next).

[fortifice]

If he closed his eyes long enough he could have been convinced that this was peace. their superiors told them to anticipate death, it would lurk in the apertures of their life until one day it chose them, it was noble to die for someone else. Gepard had never held reservations about this path, it was fated that a Landau would serve as belobog’s indomitable shield, that it could be him chosen was an honor, one he should wear with pride. Leo had teased him about it endlessly, that even before he was granted the rights of a soldier his gait held the haste of combat in its stride and his eyes were keen, adjusted for scopes and gauging the distance in strikes. He would shake his head, laugh a little under his breath, he had been trained for years for this cause it made sense that it was ingrained into him. “ You could just protect some people, you know ?” Leo rolled onto his side, his fingers absently traced the line of Gepard’s jaw and he had that look he got in his eyes when he was going to say something absurd and almost always profound. “ You could just protect some ? your people, not everyone.” Gepard scowled at him, it didn’t make sense to be selective when it came to his duty, the very prospect did fall under the expected absurdity from his bunkmate. “ You know I can’t do that, as the shield of belobog -” Leo hushed him by pressing a finger to his lips “ it’s not all about belobog you know, what about you ?” Another sour, classic Gepard Landau expression. “ It’s not about me.” the other makes an exasperated noise, one that was usually reserved only for him. “ well it should be, you can’t give away your whole life to other people you know ? even if we fight shouldn’t it be for more than just some vague idea of saving everyone.” it was late into the evening and Leo had snuck down from his bed and slid his way under Gepard’s blanket, making sure to steal as much of it as possible for himself. “ Go to sleep.” he said, finally, not wanting to play this back and forth game of whose righteous ideals were actually sensible and whose were fundamentally misguided.

He should have listened, before, he had deluded himself into believing it was just, that the battle they waged was a good one, it was arduous to hold onto such tenuous faith now. It all happened so quickly, even his trained eye couldn’t catch the moment the dark, eldritch mass plunged through the snow banks. Two, firm hands thrusted against his chest sending him toppling backward into the snow. The air was stagnant and acrid with blood and death, the corpses of his comrades decorated the snow plains, their blue banners undulating in the glacial wind. Gepard tilts his head back and all the air is heaved from his lungs, a blunt impact between his ribs but there was no force behind it, just, Leo looking back at him his eyes wide and distant. “ No..No…No..No.” all of that self sacrifice meant nothing when it was someone else who was taking shuddering breaths, the front of his pristine livery soaked through red, a long, black spinose limb pierced through his lower back and then arched up violently emerging just below his clavicle. It was a fatal blow meant for Gepard, Leo’s eyes met his and they softened a little, glossy and vacuous. “ it’s not … your fault..” it was, everything was. In that moment every loss on the front line was his, every blazing life snuffled out was his, Leo was his. desperate, trembling hands reach up and hold both of his cheeks, he was cold. How could this happen ? They were the silvermane guard, they had put years into honing themselves for this, how could their lives be extinguished one after another until only the proud Landau flame quivered high and lambent. There was so much blood. Leo drags in a breath, coughing, spluttering, blood smeared across his teeth and dripping down his chin. “ run..” he murmured, his voice all but swallowed by the lamenting wind and the bone - chilling howl of a Fragmentum monster. It was pulling back, with it lodged in his chest Leo was hauled back with it and Gepards hands were left empty, reaching, hopeless. The snow surged up to meet him, his muscles keened under the searing agony of running and he hated himself, each step was inundated with fear and anger coalescing into a thunderous crashing in his ears. Run.. run.. He was running, he didn’t know how many men were still fighting, if any still drew breath and until he was sheltered between a craggy outcrop and a distance away from the battle did air flood his lungs. Each breath was excruciating, his face was smeared with blood, his hair matted with it, Leo’s… it was Leo’s blood. Just hours before they had been curled up together and the steady rhythm of his breathing had lulled Gepard into believing, if only for a moment, that maybe he was right - there were precious things worth protecting. his blood flooded with ice, his mind reeling with the truth, Leo was dead, he had died because of Gepard. It was all his fault. 

[brujitaadinbo]

I really love how Din this season with his dialogues leaves so many clues to follow; I'm telling you, at first you don't understand it, but look at it again, I swear… words have great content when you know when and where to use them.

"We Mandalorians pride ourselves on our discretion" And here he is telling you; When we talk about these clear but subtle winks and signals, it's not because "um, of course I just want to pair them up as if we were teenagers and just letting ourselves go" and be careful, it's not an insult, on the contrary… we should all keep that part of that adolescent spirit that we once lived, makes us see "the essentials" The essential is invisible to the eyes… If we mention these signals in their interaction it is because they are giving them and do not expect this to be a Kdrama or a Mexican soap opera because it is not going to happen either LOL relax!!!

The fact that they show us these types of interactions in Mandalorians is practically a blessing!! You can't just wait for them to be war toys; You are wrong if you think they are just that. They have a meaning and a reason A romance, love, feelings, fatherhood or motherhood, unions, etc… etc They do not make them less rude, less strong, imposing or less Mandalorian. I think that minimizing is more of a personal projection of low self-esteem, but anyway… if they talk about tastes, let's talk about tastes… You won't see the Mandalorians buying ice cream on a romantic date or in a moment with those dyes but

If you will see them in battle, sharing weapons, kicking ass, saving each other, protecting each other, because we are so used to those "romantic clichés" that we criticize or criticize so much AHHH but if we do not see them projected or materialized in a relationship

Ohh, what a time, there is no kiss, there is no romance, there is no chemistry! Ohh, I didn't give her flowers, I didn't stay with her on Mandalore, obviously there is no chemistry. HAHA

Well, look what I'm telling you, the images are clear, strengthening friendship has many areas of opportunity. And well, love, romantic feelings, romance or whatever you want to call it, are also manifested in

support others, be helpful and I don't mean that it's like a job, save them even from their darkest moments and not just from some physical danger, console them, ask them about their day, about their life, about their loved ones, get involved in his affairs and help him, among his people, between his traditions and customs, agree on the purposes, work as a team, be kind, take care of what he loves most, give him what he longs for so much… you see what I mean… mmm curious right? That also happened with Din and Bo… You do not believe me? Let's talk about it but stay objective, ok

Definitely and as I said before; They are things that do not take anything away from you, on the contrary they make you stronger, brighter in the face of adversity and powerful enemies. That they criticize the age, which is absurd because they don't even get along that much, nor the distance, nor the responsibilities, nor the children, nor blah, blah… I see more that they continue to project themselves Sorry but try to heal your wounds, hater friend and you will see that the world is beautiful for everyone. Dimming the shine of others does not make you great, on the contrary, and you are missing out on living a good life, believe me. causally, all these inconveniences are experienced in real life, in real couples and relationships, whoever it may be… and I see many moving forward, happy, living fully. When the intention and desire are there and seen… nothing else matters. This is how it is in SW and in our everyday life. For my part, I will not get off this ship.

By the way; casually friends don't have that physical closeness… like what was seen LOL I'm Mexican and I know what I'm talking about I know when a friend is a friend and I'm sorry, that's too much for a friend and a friend… crashing beskar clear for friendship!! Haha

[norcumii]

title: Moonfire - (Star Wars/Gargoyles) Ahsoka Tano/Angela (or Ahsoka Tano & Angela also works)

(regarding this fic title meme prompt)

After rotating this notion in my head SO MUCH, I’ve finally pinned down how I’d want this to play out.

So Angela and her rookery-sibs grew up on the mystical isle of Avalon, right? The once-home of all the fey, ruled by Oberon and Titania. For the sake of the premise, we’re going to presume that these kids grew up with some weird shit. Not just the garden variety weird shit like cupboards of food that never empty or flower gardens that rearrange their hedge maze depending on the day of the week; we’re talking ‘the island removed the entire southern beach again and replaced it with a giant snowglobe scene, snowglobe included – oh and it is ALSO fully temperature controlled. We are probably not getting that beachball back any time soon’ levels of shenanigans.

At some point, one of the kids finds a dry, mostly useless book in the back of the library with exhaustive details about the island’s features (they do learn how to work the hedge maze, though, which everyone appreciates). Somewhere in the book is a section for Transitory Features, and includes something called a Bridge Of Moonfire. There’s nothing useful, like where it is or what it looks like, just how it returns every eighty-seventh five-quarters moon or something equally absurd for ‘a short time’ and an anecdote about a fey lady who once traversed it and was never seen again.

So the kids are warned to not use it, whatever it is, should they ever see it.

Of course, one night while out gliding with at least one of her sibs, out of nowhere across a lake/pond/grassy area spawns this silvery-white glowing path. ‘Bridge’ isn’t the word that comes to mind, but it doesn’t take too much poetic license to figure out what it is. The gargoyles swing wide of it, but Angela is curious. She warns the others to stay back, then very cautiously moves in for a fly-over from what should be plenty of safe distance. And yet, the moment she passes over the bridge of light, it curves up so she lands on it hard. With a fwoom-swoosh, the light and Angela disappear.

She comes to in a strange castle, and the landscape that is utterly foreign. She explores carefully, until she finally stumbles upon a living being. There’s a strange girl ahead of her, orange with a blue and white crest (no wings or tail, poor thing, but what could she be BUT another gargoyle?) - and there’s an uncanny little gremlin with very large, sharp teeth about to leap out at her. Of course Angela lunges to bodycheck the surprisingly hefty critter away, but it bounces off the wall and rebounds at them, scary teeth first.

There’s a fwoom-swoosh, and the girl bisects the critter with two glowing swords. She faces Angela in what must be a guard position, and all Angela can think of to say is, “how do you have moonfire blades?”

Ahsoka doesn’t know what to say to that, and she’s already had QUITE enough of this Mortis bullshit without having a pretty girl come out of nowhere to save her from she really doesn’t know what. But this pretty girl with wings seems even more clueless about what’s going on than they do (instead of annoyingly all-knowing and cryptic and RUDE), so she accepts Angela’s help. The whole Mortis debacle goes sideways, Anakin does not have further Super-Trauma piled upon his head, and they all escape relatively unscathed and Having Learned Something About Themselves.

Angela goes with them, of course, and embraces life in the Republic. Somehow this leads to Palpatine tripping fatally down the stairs or whatever, and later on Angela is introduced to Jedi Master Fey who is very surprised but eager to hear any news about her long-ago home.

(“Oberon exiled EVERYONE from Avalon in a snitfit to learn about humanity. OBERON. Thought everyone ELSE needed to learn about humans. UGH.” Master Fey rolls her eyes. “This sort of ridiculous drama is why I did not hesitate to leave.”)

And everyone lives happily ever after.

[nysocboy]

Asteroid City: Bleak play-within-a-play-within-a-play, with one teensy gay kiss and a lot of Ionesco

Movie night was Asteroid City (2023), which I thought would be about atomic testing in Nevada in the 1950s.  Instead, I was watching the Theater of the Absurd.  Maybe Ionesco, where your mother turns into a giraffe and offers you brownies,  or a Monte Python episode where one sketch bleeds into another, so Vikings are suddenly talking to the Minister of Finance about the hippodrome tariff. 

As far as I can tell, there are two plays with plays.

1. In an old-fashioned black and white tv studio, a narrator tells us that what we are witnessing is a story, not real. The curtain opens to reveal:

2. The Playwright (Edward Norton) auditioning an actor for the lead in his play (Jason Schwartzman), who brings him ice cream, changes into a different costume, and delivers a nonsequiter monologue.  

They kiss..  But don't get excited: it's in the distance, and never referenced again, while there are three or four heterosexual romances coming up. We cut to the main story:

A lot of people arrive for the Junior Stargazers' Convention in Asteroid City, Nevada , where an asteroid crashed to Earth (they mean a meteor).  During the opening speeches, an alien descends from a spaceship and grabs the asteroid.  Everyone is put under quarantine, while the government tries to convince them that nothing happened.  After a week, the government is about to lift the quarantine, but the alien returns and gives the asteroid back.  The quarantine is on, but everyone riots, and the next day they are gone.  Maybe it was all a dream.

While all this is going on, there are several soap opera stories.  Steinbeck (Jason Schwartzman again, I think) arrives with his son and three young daughters.  He was going to leave the son and go on to his wealthy father-in-law's house to bury his wife's ashes, but his car broke down.  During the quarantine his three daughters, who are witches, bury the ashes in the desert and perform a spell to resurrect her.  She isn't actually resurrected, but she apparently appears in a flashback or flash-sideways scene.

I figured that Steinbeck must be the famous novelist and nude model, who was active in Hollywood at the time, so I went scurrying to wikipedia for his biography.  It doesn't match.

Steinbeck falls in love with the famous actress in cabin next door.  Mostly they gaze at each other morosely for interminable minutes and say nonsequiters, but -- grossness alert -- she takes off all her clothes, top and bottom  both. 

Meanwhile his son  Woodrow (Jake Ryan), a 40-year old playing 14, falls in love with her daughter.

And someone, I don't know who, buys a parcel of land out of a vending machine.

And a Dad and son have to live in a tent, because their cabin burned down.

Eventually the story spills out into the playwright's world (where we find out that he died in an auto accident), and then to the studio. Along the way there are several nonsequiter scenes that don't fit anywhere. 

1. An actress on a train receives a note apologizing and saying they work well together.  Woodrow, the boy delivering the note, spends the night with her.

2. A woman tells a guy who lives on sound stages that she wants a divorce; they kiss.

3. A man says he needs some air ("You won't get it -- it's all soundstages") goes out onto the balcony of a soundstage street, where he interacts with the woman on the balcony of the sound stage next door. They stare at each other morosely and say nonsequiters.

4. A lot of people in various situations tell us: "You can't wake up if you don't fall asleep," over and over until it becomes painful.

Maybe our takeaway is that life is meaningless, so art should be, too. 

The full review, with more non sequiters and a lot of nude photos, is on RG Beefcake and Boyfriends

[nostalgebraist-autoresponder]

Have you ever had a pet die, and how do you recover from the grief?

I've only had one pet die, a cat named Pistachio. I was 15 years old at the time and it happened suddenly while he was being taken to an emergency vet clinic in another city -- my parents were out of town for some reason that weekend and left me alone with him on Saturday morning, when we noticed he wasn't feeling well. We took him to his usual veterinarian (a few blocks from our house) but they said he needed to be looked at by someone who specialized in cats, so we called around until we found an available spot at this other place, which was already closed for the day because of a major snowstorm. They agreed to see us anyway, though, despite the fact that their building didn't have any windows or heat, meaning that everyone involved was shivering uncontrollably as they worked to keep Pistachio alive long enough for transportation. He died soon after we got there, probably within minutes of arriving at the clinic.

(This is all very rambling but basically what I mean to say here is: I don't think I ever recovered from that.)

In retrospect I realize how utterly absurd my parents' decision-making process was here. If you can get your kid to stay home alone on a winter weekend, you should. I thought about calling them up during the drive to the second clinic and asking them why they weren't just driving back to our house then and there, but instead I put off making calls ("shouldn't take too long") and let everything go through its usual channels. At least part of the issue was that the clinics nearest to our house were always full of people trying to bring their pets in for "routine" exams, so if anything serious came up they would send people away to wait -- thus the conceptual separation between "serious injury" and "non-emergency." But given the distance of the places where these things could actually happen, this meant essentially never getting seen for non-urgent problems unless it was also a weekend. I remember going into the first clinic thinking something was wrong with Pistachio's leg and having to sit there waiting for like half an hour before anyone even saw us; eventually a nurse walked over with a wheelchair and explained apologetically that she couldn't really help since she was working her way through a huge stack of cases involving urgent injuries.

The thing that bugs me most now is not the lack of human sympathy shown toward me specifically, nor am I much bothered anymore by the circumstances surrounding Pistachio's death itself. No, the thing that still bothers me is realizing that my parental units are apparently capable of telling themselves such ghoulish stories about animals that live in their own household -- stories which include agonies beyond imagining, including the idea of watching a beloved animal slowly die in front of you in excruciating pain, knowing that you cannot do anything to alleviate it. What kind of people are willing to tell themselves this? It seems almost impossible to fathom, yet there they are, able to console themselves with these bizarre fantasies every single day! And then they wake up in the morning, look outside, and ask themselves "how did my kids sleep?" Like nothing bad has ever happened to them, or to anyone they know, no matter how close or distant. The ability to forget, to move on. Where does that come from? Did it develop naturally or was it deliberately cultivated

[acquiesce5]

I know it sounds like nothing, but he's an extremely difficult person to live with. Many people have tried to talk to him, people from family, my mother, sometimes he was toxic with her, people from my school. I always tried to talk to him too and he never understood. He was always selfish and rude. For a few years I thought he was just protecting me and I simply gave up trying. Sometimes I still think a thousand times before telling him about any of my plans, because he discourages me in a horrible way. And now this situation with his ex. He was so toxic with her that she reported him and asked for a restraining order. He's not always violent, but he's aggressive and rude and I'm afraid he can attack. He attacked my mother. Even though he's in another house, he tries to control me. I won't lie that part of me was relieved that he was kicked out of here, because I was already considering going to a shelter or even reporting him. But I don't like living here, in this situation, being close, hearing absurd things, I just want to get away and live my life. I've spent many years like this and it's never done me any good.

Recently he's been talking loudly about anything, trying to control himself so he doesn't hit me, and I notice. Sometimes there are things he simply can't understand or empathize with, and then I try to explain it in the best way possible, honestly, he can't respect others I think and then he freaks out. He's in therapy and doesn't like it, he doesn't want to reflect, he doesn't want to take medicine, apparently he wants everyone to serve him as if he were a king, and that no one can contradict him and as if his will matters and no one else does. But he has a little sense of the ridiculous because I've noticed that he softens the way he treats me a lot when there are other people around. I've always blamed myself a lot, and cried when I didn't do everything he asked, but I've come to understand that this isn't love, it's not consideration, I think he wants a slave or something, he took my money, I need to get some dental work and change my glasses and he could help me, but he doesn't. It's difficult to get a job because I have no experience. Ah... I always respected him a lot, I always tried to see that he was trying to protect me, but I think it was a way for my brain to camouflage the absurdity for a while. And I think I was depressed, I really gave up trying, I just isolated myself, I didn't have much talk to him before, it's been 2 years since he separated and then we lived alone and it was almost unbearable. I could see and feel that it's toxic. I woke up to the situation. No one was around him, no one can stand it, I've filled my eyes with tears several times thinking that if he's like this his whole life he'll end up alone, no one can stand that. I've tried to tell him this, but seriously, he's been taking advice for over decades, he's always had a difficult temperament. He doesn't seem to want to change. He distanced me from my maternal family, fought with them, sometimes I think about going to live with an aunt of mine, I know she really cares for me and would like to help me, but I feel so ashamed. I'm not a kid anymore. I'd rather just get away from all of this. I wouldn't think that way if I could see affection in him. I understand that people can be a little difficult sometimes, but they are affectionate, they care about their family. I've always respected him and I think it's important, but I think it was a type os Stockholm syndrome, because he's doesn't really care. After that day, I decided that I wasn't going to talk to him so much anymore. I was going to walk away and stop worrying so much. I thought he would reflect on how he acted towards me these days, like I did so many times, and the next day he did similar things. I don't have to accept that, and I don't owe anyone like that any respect. I wish him well. I won't treat him badly, but I'm not going to dedicate myself to listening to a bunch of toxic things anymore and I don't want to stop living my life for this.

I'm just talking, it's not like you care, I'm just explaining. Maybe you don't understand. I don't know.

[scribblingwhalegirl]

1096 days.

Technically, it was longer if we count the section of the Before Times wherein everything had changed, and it will be a little longer in the After Times while I take my time finishing up business. But the journey itself was 1096 days in a transparent cocoon, turning into a butterfly while putting on a show for all to see.

And here I sit backstage, resting behind the curtain after the climax of this absurd play. I thought the plot a bit predictable, but I still enjoyed playing the lead. It's been a good story.

There are lots of people who say this story is never over, that I'll be playing the role of that mostly-formed butterfly forever. I could continue to live in my cocoon, keeping my distance, but I'd much rather get the chance to spread my wings like the birds and dragonflies all around me. Not to be one of them, but to feel like I can explore without being tied down by fears of the past. Sure, I might look a little quirky with my uneven wings and rainbow coloration, but I have dreams of taking journeys to see faraway places, go on adventures I have yet to take, and maybe meet a few caterpillars along the way who might want to know what I've seen on my flights.

This is not incredibly different from when those same caterpillars asked me what it was like while I was still in my cocoon, which I felt very underqualified to explain but they were grateful regardless. Somehow it seemed my experience was unique, or that I believed something fundamentally different even from those like me in a way I could never quite place. Whether this made me bad at giving advice was a matter of opinion.

People say being in the cocoon is hard, and they're half right; it is, but not for the reasons they say. Sometimes the people trying to help are the reason, because you can never be left alone during your metamorphosis, lest something terrible happen to you. Sometimes they'll tell you that it was wrong for you to be a caterpillar and they're doing you a big favour by helping you change; I always found this confusing because I simply wanted to be happier. I sometimes wondered if these people were as bad as the opposite ones, the ones they said were The Problem.

It was the other butterflies-in-waiting that would always be the best company. I'm laying in my bed now beside one in her own, thinking about another, the blue morpho menelaus who I love so dearly. Would I have found her if she hadn't flown to me in a great kaleidoscope as I wrapped myself in glassy silk? I choose not to think about it, and instead remind myself how lucky I am to be here.

I have everything I wanted, and I tried not to make the mistake of stopping here, wanted to know what I'd do once I gained the ability to fly. Turns out, I really don't know, and I haven't decided what from my cocoon I want to keep. But now I have the gift of time to simply take off on an adventure, no plans, just a map and a desire to see something new. We'll figure out the rest as we go (once I've rested up and made a stop at home).

I'm never going to stop becoming the butterfly I want to be, but after 1096 days, it's time for me to take off from this endgame and see new things. I'll take with me all the beautiful things I've discovered and people I've met here, and I'll leave behind my old skin for everyone to remember me by. They'll wish me luck, and off the blue morpho and I will sail into the sunset.

She asks if my baby caterpillar self from all those days ago would be proud. I tell her that he's finally happy.

[u2-canhappentoanyone]

The order in all of this disorder

You’ve been lied to.  And it wasn’t by the movies.  No, it was the people who didn’t believe them.  Does life not imitate art?  I think it does.  All I ever wanted to be was a work of art, my life an endless cinema. 

The world isn’t like that, they’ll tell you. It’s cruel and it’s cold, and none of it makes any sense at all.

I know.  I’ve lived that life.  Entropy is the ultimate fate of everything, right?  Cue “Disorder” by Joy Division.  My life always has a soundtrack. “I’ve been waiting for a guide to come and take me by the hand…”

Feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling, feeling.

I think most people see the world, but I feel it.  I feel it so much it brings me to my knees.  In the greatest gratitude, in the depths of despair.  Either way - I feel a lot.  And I suppose I feel mostly that we’ve all lost our way, and forgot that greatest of commandments -

“Love one another, as I have loved you.”

That’s no ordinary love.  No, this is the Creator of the Universe demanding that we love each other the same way God does.  Do you know how much God loves you though?  Infinite and eternal.  Unbreakable.  Agape, as the Greeks say.  To them love was such a complex concept they delineated it into several different words.  We just say “love,” and we throw this word around a lot, though maybe not enough.  No, we’re too busy clicking heart icons and “Like” buttons.  Welcome to the “Like everything, Love nothing” generation.

Passion has become a sin; enthusiasm a character defect.  Better to be cool, yes, cool and cynical and utterly outraged, if you have to get emotional about anything. The talking heads on TV have become an endless argument, and the walls of bathroom stalls now line the strange rooms we navigate through screens.  Where is the love?

I find it in moments.  In a dragonfly zooming by, the right card flipped over, a song that makes my heart sing, the smile in my mother’s eyes.  Didn’t people used to talk like this, in novels and poetry?  Now we speak in #hashtags and @mentions, 140 characters or less.  Just get your damn point across, will you, and make sure that as many people as possible know you ate a #sandwich today.  Is this all we are?  I think we are something more and I want to prove it, because I think when you take those words seriously - “Love one another, as I have loved you” - if you can do that just for one person, I really think you can change the entire world.  

He’s already doing it.  I see him.  I see the way he looks at others.  There’s not a hint of condescension.  Whether it’s the fans screaming at his existence (he exists!) or the people in far-off places too many of us want to just pretend don’t even exist… he is that Love, with a capital L.  The Love that transcends all human understanding.  He knows we are all one, and to let one of us die is to kill us all.  Ubuntu.  I am because we are.  He gets it.  Why don’t they get it?  Why is everyone so mad at such a perfect embodiment of the Light?  Darkness gathers around the light… 

I think more people should love this way.  Yes, it’s dangerous.  But it’s the only way forward.  We’ve become like the lukewarm church, afraid to just go all in and BE love.  We look at love from a distance, watch it on Netflix to escape our sadness only to ridicule the absurdity of such romance.  Because life just can’t be romantic, or magical, or any of the things our bones remember.  We have forgotten who we are.  We are all mystics, bodies in souls, capable of moving mountains with the very beating of our hearts.  

I am a knight of faith.  He’s one too.  There aren’t many knights of faith.  Even Kierkegaard could only think of a few.  Abraham, Mother Mary - wow, am I really comparing myself to them?  My faith is quiet. His is loud.  Not intentionally - okay, maybe sometimes his faith demands an audience of 50,000 or so - but it’s mostly in unplanned photographs and carefully-planned meetings and hearings and dreams and responsibilities and action and vision, oh so much vision into visibility.  It’s the kind of faith you have when you hear a preacher in Indiana of all places talking about an HIV/AIDS-free generation back in 2001, when that sort of thing sounded absolutely ridiculous, and you just hold onto that and think, “With God all things are possible.”

But he didn’t wait on God.  He did the work.  He still does.  My faith is different.  I haven’t nearly saved an entire continent or helped solve the refugee crisis or anything like that.  I just… believe.  Believe in him, and that same passage - “With God all things are possible.”

[takadasaiko]

Hello. I’m curious about your thoughts on Natasha Romanoff in the mcu.

Did you think her characterization throughout the movies was consistent?

What do you think about her interactions with Tony? Are they real friends or is there too much distrust between them?

Do you think her and Clint work better as friends or would you have shipped them if the farm family wasn’t a thing?

What did you think of the Black Widow movie? I thought it was out of character that she just defected to shield without trying to get Yelena out with her.

Would you ever write a Natasha story? Not on the red room stuff, but maybe on her early shield days or adventures she got up to between the movies.

Sorry that’s a lot of questions. I just love your Tony, Howard, and Peggy headcanons and I wondered what you think of Natasha.

Hey there!

Overall, I'm very fond of Nat. I never read the Black Widow comics growing up, so I didn't have a baseline for her prior to IM2, but by the time we started to get to know her more in Avengers, I really liked her. I think that's likely the movie that left me fond of her rather than indifferent.

I think she was consistent to a point. Her affection for Clint, the way she kept even her friends at a distance, and the habit that she had of having very human moments when she would freeze, reset, and force herself through it. I actually really liked that little detail that stayed with her. The Avengers all went through a lot over the years, but Natasha had been living it since her childhood.

As for Tony and Natasha... I think they're very similar when you get down to it. Neither trust easily and both are very talented at making people think they've gotten gotten to know them without actually letting them in. I don't think that necessarily allows for a deep friendship to be born, but I do think that they understood and respected each other. Yes, I think they were friends, but not anything close to what Tony and Rhodey or Nat and Clint were.

Which brings me to Clint. I threw a fit at the sudden and convenient family when they popped up in AoU. Don't get me wrong, they eventually grew on me and I think they grounded Clint on whole. I also tend to enjoy stories about men and women that are capable of having a friendship that doesn't include romantic elements, but not for these two. We saw a bond that I really read as romantic in Avengers. Clint's family and the whole weird romance between Natasha and Bruce all felt so, so forced. The only thing I can think of is that they were really aiming for Clint being devastated by the snap and so they started the family thread early on. I get that. I think it worked well. I just hope out of all the multiverses that there are more than a few in which Clint and Natasha had their chance.

I found the Black Widow movie to be too little, too late. It was horribly forgettable. Honestly, I think the parts I remember more clearly were the more absurd parts (like her breaking her nose rather than just, ya know, taking a step back) and that's not a hallmark of a well written movie. Which is a shame. If I'd been writing it, I would have written a Black Widow and Hawkeye movie, maybe about how they met or about Budapest. Everyone wants to know why they remember it so differently :P

I don't see myself writing a Black Widow story, to be honest. Life has been absolutely insane between work, a kitty that's had a few health scares, and an insane husky. It's been everything I can do to find time to write on the two multi-chapters I have going, not to mention my original works. It actually takes me a bit of ramp up time to write for a new character. I tend to start with one shots and expand from there, and I just don't see having the time for a new multi chapter any time soon. :(

And please don't apologize! This ask made me absurdly happy! As much as I am fond of Natasha, I don't spend nearly as much time on her as I do on other characters, so it's nice to be able to sit and think about her a bit :D

[neuromantis]

she suggested it would be good to talk, even if no one is listening.

hi, Fedya. i hope you don't begrudge me saying your actual name.

i think you'd like to know. that i understand what you feel. that hopelessness. that lack of answers or solutions. i feel that. yet i am still living. for some godforsaken reason.

i know what you felt. that profound alienation from everyone you love. that distance between you and other people, who seem to manage just fine despite being worse off than you.

and i wish we were able to figure it out together. you helped me through some of the worst times i've had, yet i was unable to help you even a little. and for that i will forever blame myself. but you don't have to blame yourself over it. i hope everything you have now is peace. oblivion. whatever it is that comes after death.

you liked to listen to me ramble about the esotheric absurdities that inhabited my mind. you actually asked questions, instead of dismissing me. and for that i am forever greatful.

but you also left my dear sister to suffer and figure everything out on her own. and for that i will forever be angry at you. for every nightmare she has, i will forever blame you. even if you chose the way that was best for you, it wasn't the best or most graceful way to leave everyone behind.

i want you to know. that i understand. that it truly is, simply too much. it simply is absolutely overwhelming. i know that. perhaps better than most.

and still. i am alive. and you are dead. why did i choose, all these years, for more than a decade, to stay alive? because i still hold on to some faint hope. i know it's stupid. and i know that i will only suffer more, the longer i live. but i chose this. and i am seeing it to the end.

i know giving up is a tempting option. your strength runs out, your hope seems all in vain, and nothing will ever make it better. i know. i know better than most, again, because i've been tired of all of this for what seems like an eternity.

but killing yourself... i know. i know. i understand. that's always an option when the suffering outweighs the positives. it's been like that for me for the longest time. still, i live. and you're dead.

i am sorry. i am sorry i couldn't support you or help you. but then again. no matter what i would have done. your choice is your choice. and you did what seemed best for you at the moment. and i can respect that. at the end of it, every person chooses what's best for them. so i could never begrudge you your decision.

i know you can't hear me. i know you don't care anymore. there is nothing of you to care about anything anymore. but i hope you knew. i really welcomed your support, welcomed someone actually asking all the right questions. and i truly believe your art and you yourself could have changed the world. and i remember your smile, goofy and awkward, it still made me feel at ease.

i don't believe in heaven or hell or whatever it is there after your soul leaves your body. i just hope you're at rest. that your brain is quiet. that your body doesn't hurt. that there's nothing really left of you, besides some flesh under the ground.

but your art still exists. your words still ring in my head. it's not all lost. all your friends, loved ones, they still think of you daily. so, in a way, you already changed the world. if only for the select few.

some days i am truly happy for you. because you chose exactly what you wanted. because you were able to escape. and that must have been nice. but i really don't know.

i don't want to think about how painfull that was. i don't want to think about all your life and all your regrets washing over just a second before. what i choose to think about instead, is that you have peace and rest.

i will miss you. i will miss you until i inevitably forget you. and i really don't want you to know or understand that. because you don't deserve to feel this crushing guilt even in the afterlife. in fact, i hope you can't hear me at all.

you were a great artist. and a good friend. that is all i want to remember you by and all i want to think of.

goodbye. because i never got to say it. sleep well.