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inkskinned · 11 months

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so while i was writing the book, i became violently suicidal.

this was mostly due to the fact that i had a very bad reaction to some meds and my brain stopped producing any serotonin. also i was in the last semester of grad school where it's actually illegal to feel anything but dread. so it wasn't going well.

somewhere in the fog of it i became aware i needed help. nobody was taking clients or my insurance. i didn't want to do inpatient care - it wasn't right for my needs. there's not really an "in between" stage between "inpatient" and "no care," but i was trying to do the right thing. i was trying to activate the chain of command that was my emergency plan. i knew i needed help now.

i used betterhelp.

i know, i know. i'm a straight-A student and so smart and so clever, how could i ever use something so blatantly bad. to be honest with you, i didn't feel particularly keen on it from the getgo - things that seem too good to be true usually are. also, if something online is free, the price is usually your privacy.

the thing is that there was kind of a global pandemic happening at the time and i worked 5 jobs alongside of being a fulltime student and also like writing a book on the side. it is a miracle that i even thought about getting help. i would love to tell you i had the mental wherewithal to like, process whether this was the right choice for me. mostly i was desperate. i was so suicidal that i was trying to find a reason to stay inside of fortune cookies. i was the kind of suicidal that looks like splatterpaint. i hadn't been that bad in an entire decade.

they took my data. i gave them it freely. somewhere out there, they have a dossier on me. on everything i survived. my story in little datapoints, scattergraphed beautifully.

the first woman told me that really i should be grateful, because (and this is a direct quote): "at least you're not anne frank." i said that i felt that statement was antisemitic, as anne frank's life and experience shouldn't be compared to like, a nonbinary lesbian in western massachusetts. the therapist said that i should try to use lucid dreaming to try to picture myself in an actually scary situation, like running from nazis.

i applied for another therapist. i was willing to accept the possibility that there was a bad apple in the bunch. the next therapist and i even laughed about how inappropriate that statement was. and then, in our next session: the new therapist said if i was struggling with body image issues, i should just work harder on my appearance. she spent 3 sessions in a row talking about how she was grieving, and made me memorize facts about her grandmother so "she can live on through my clients."

i am a three's-a-charm kind of person. okay, so what if the last person made me uncomfortable. i figured it was just a misunderstanding of priorities - she had felt she was sharing with me, i had felt like i had to take care of her. i applied for another therapist.

the last woman asked me to help her pray. she bowed her head. i stared at her, frozen, while she said: lord, i beg you: cure her. take the pain of being gay away from her.

i spent somewhere between 2.5 and 3 months on betterhelp. in that whole time, i was not getting the professional help i so desperately needed, even though i was fucking trying.

in the end, i survived this because i finally could get off the meds that were literally killing me. a request for a real therapist finally went through. i survived because my friends saved my life. because nick let me sob myself dry in his arms. because maddie took the razors out of my room when i asked them to. because grace slept over in my bed for like 3 weeks in a row since nobody trusted me not to hurt myself when i was alone. i survived because i got fucking lucky. because even when i was desperately suicidal, i was too old and too self-aware to take "you need to be prettier" as good advice.

the thing is that there's a 19 year old me who isn't like that. who would have heard "just think about how grateful you should be" and said - oh, i see. i would have assumed that is what it means to be in therapy: the same thing my abusers used to tell me. that i am just pretending and lazy. that i am ugly and unworthy.

betterhelp positioned itself to take advantage of an incredibly vulnerable community. it preys on desperation. it knows it is serving people who are not doing well mentally. it saw that there is a huge need for real, immediate, compassionate mental health care: and then it fucking takes your money and privacy.

i still get their ads on instagram. last night i watched as a woman in a pool pretends to talk to a different woman. they discuss her anxiety.

there's a 19 year old version of me, and she didn't survive this. she was too tired, and drowning. i almost fucking died. this thing almost fucking killed me.

in the ad, the woman playing the therapist takes a note on a clipboard and then nods once, sagely.

i have to admit it's a pretty scene. the steam and light coming off the pool water lands on the actresses. like this, it almost looks baptismal, holy.

#writeblr #the book....#coming soon #hey so if ur someone who has ever said “you need to write a book”#i wrote the book #it's ... probably the best thing ive ever written #this is maybe too honest lol #okay to reblog thank you for asking i love u i am in love with u our wedding will be in may

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icyg4l · 2 months

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PAC: What Would Happen If You Had a Friend Like You?

Hello beautiful people! I thank you guys so much for the support I’ve received over the past couple of months and even this past weekend. I will continue to make content that resonates with my collective. I am delivering my new PAC as promised, even though it was supposed to come out last night (oopsie lol). Anyway, I really hope you guys enjoy this one. It is inspired by tears and frustration of those who feel taken for granted in their friendships (including myself). Please don’t hesitate to book a reading with me if you would like to receive a personal reading. Without further ado, please select your pile.

Top Left-to-Bottom Right: (1-4)

Pile One: If you had a friend like you, PIle One, I think that you would meet them while working/interning for a company. I think that this person would be the fresh air to the heavy atmosphere surrounding y’all. I see that you are both sophisticated professionals who know how to handle conflict calmly for the most part. It’s hard for you both to “pop off” and this may be a problem within you guys’ friendship. You both must learn how to be okay with not letting things go off the hook. You must be intentional with the way you navigate or you will be screwed over every time. I feel that if you had a friend like you, you would be very suspicious of this person because you can’t put a finger on why you feel this way. This person will be equally suspicious. But once you actually talk to each other, you will share stories and experiences regarding business ideas, your dream career environments, many of you will bond over being the only women at work and even sharing secrets about your family dynamics. I could see that you will run a business with this person and it will be successful. It may take a while to hit this bump but it’s definitely possible. Lastly, beware of oversharing too soon or jumping to conclusions. Take it slow, babe. There will be slip ups between the both of you but it’s best that you become strict with yourself on what it means to have a healthy friendship.

Cards Used: Queen of Cups, The Chariot, The Emperor, The Tower (RX), 9 of Wands, 6 of Swords

extras: nipsey hussle. “motivate” saweetie. moldavite. overbite.

Pile Two: It’s very interesting how your story will play out, Pile Two. It’ll be a story to tell your grandchildren. So what I am getting from your pile is that you will meet your other half during a breakup. But the thing is, this person will partially be the reason for your breakup. I see the scenario of women getting played by a guy. The movie ‘John Tucker Must Die’ comes to mind. Also, the storyline between Teddy, Spencer and Skylar from Good Luck Charlie comes to mind. You guys will find comfort in each other during this painful period. Many people would stay away from “the other woman”, but you won’t because your situation is unique. I feel like if you are dealing with someone right now, they have two sides to them. They could have air sign placements. I feel like when you come face-to-face with this person, you will not feel any sort of anger or resentment towards them. You will cry in this person’s arms and immediately feel at home. But you should know that once you feel that you want to move on from this, the bond that once existed will change and this change will more than likely not be taken lightly. So enjoy your time with this person for the moment being, Pile Two. Have conversations with this person about how the dynamic will change overtime to prepare for it.

Cards Used:The World, 3 of Swords, Two of Cups, Wheel of Fortune, King of Cups (RX)

extras: igbo tribe. medulla. voguing practice. thelma and louise. grief counseling. hideous bangs.

Pile Three: I feel like this group is into music. You may want to move to one of the music capitals like Atlanta, Nashville, New York or Miami to pursue a music career. In my third eye, I am seeing snippets of the pilot episode of ‘Star’. The premise of the show is the formation, trials and tribulations of a girl group. There are two sisters and a best friend that are in this girl group. During the pilot, the blonde sister has to physically fight her sister’s abuser to bring her to Atlanta so that they can move to Atlanta with their aunt. After this, they are proactive in jumpstarting their career even with drama, drugs and whatnot clouding their future. Now, I feel like your friend will obviously be a newcomer in the music industry as well. It is best if y’all work together. I see that if this person has a kid, you will be the child’s godparent. I also see some notoriety, fame and recognition coming with this person once you all decide to work together. This will only happen because y’all collaborated; if y’all went solo, the same result would not happen. But you need to be aware of doing things in vain. You and them both need to think about each other because the spotlight can blind people’s true intentions. Think clearly. But I feel like y’all would actually be friends for a long time despite any differences that may occur because of vanity. There’s chemistry that y��all have with each other that you will not have with anyone else so cherish each other while you all are still here.

Cards Used: 10 of Cups, Four of Discs (RX), The Star, The Empress, 8 of Cups, 6 of Wands, King of Wands

extras: girl groups. ‘musically inclined.’ music industry. tlc. money grab. “cut the check.” “ain’t shit sweet.”

Pile Four: And last but not least, Pile Four. Your situation will involve meeting someone who is also addicted to something. You have their vices so do they. I am channeling the energy of Edward Norton and Maria Singer. They are liars. They show up at AA meetings for fun and catch each other in a lie. I feel like this friendship will be about holding each other accountable. I am also channeling Rue and her sponsor, Ali. They have an uncle-niece relationship. I believe that you all will have a significant difference in maturity. And this will be the reason why you bump heads. Someone believes that they know more than the other person because they’ve been doing it longer or they don’t believe that their vice is worthy of being taken seriously. Now, this vice could be drugs, sex, over/undereating, online shopping, gambling, playing video games, etc. Now, when you meet this person, you will be put off because you won’t know any better. But this person will leave a strong impact on your life. It is best that you keep them around because you won’t know what you got till it’s gone. Taking this person for granted will be the worst thing that you can do because there is no one else that will hold you accountable like them, Pile Four.

Cards Used: 9 of Discs, Princess of Cups, Temperance, 6 of Wands, The High Priestess, The Hermit, 9 of Wands

extras: low fade haircut. burning hair. electric slide. goal chaser. fear of death. close call. chewing ice.

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phoenixblaze1412 · 7 months

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Webttore relationship Hcs ?? i am normal i am normal (lying) - 🐓

I too am normal (lying) when it comes to Webttore anon^^

Webttore is the one who confessed to you first... rather gruesomely.

He just held out a still-beating heart towards you before exclaiming that his heart belongs to you. You held the organ in your hands, blood dripping down your fingers as you stared at him in surprise.

He reassured you that it wasn't his heart. You pitied the poor soul that he had to gut out just to grab the organ before giving it to you. But since it's Webttore, you were used to his crazy experiments. Surprisingly, you liked him as well and reciprocated his feelings.

You were immediately promoted as his personal assistant instead of being the harbingers' secretary, he would prefer to have you by his side.

He made you do a blood pact with him to make sure you don't even try to leave him.

He also may have a vial of your blood hanging somewhere in his outfit as if it was a vision. Don't worry though, he gave you his blood as well and you're currently wearing that blood-filled vial as an earring like him.

He would even proudly show you off to the others that you're his partner, he would always have a hand either on your waist or holding your own.

This man has no shame whatsoever. He isn't embarrassed to kiss you in front of others. He would even nip at your neck before sticking his tongue out to anyone who would be watching.

Whenever he is tired, he would be found sleeping on the couch, a book he was reading earlier was covering his face instead of his mask. But now with you by his side, he will just up and drag you to the couch, cuddle you and sleep with his head buried in your neck.

He would push you out of the laboratory whenever he and his segments would be experimenting on a human test subject. He already knows your tolerance for the sight and scent of blood but he wouldn't want you to see him have fun with the subject's viscera. He may be a mad scientist but he has a reputation to uphold as a gentleman towards his lover.

You know how he would always be stressed out whenever his experiments either failed or lacked the materials so congratulations! You get to be his stress-reliever!

There's one action that Dottore will do to you relieve his stress. Squish you.

But where? He has two things he likes to grab and squish.

Your cheeks and ass.

Whenever he would be stressed due to annoyance, he would be squishing your cheeks and rant to you how useless the people working for him are. He would later laugh at you when you told him your cheeks were aching from how he kept squishing and pulling at it.

Then there are those times where he would be quiet and stare off into space as he thinks on how to solve the problems in his experiments, how fortunate that you were there beside him and arranging some documents. His hand would subconsciously grab your ass and squish and grope. Hearing the noises you would make because of his actions actually helps him focus and think straight. He would do it a lot.

Dottore is a biter. He likes biting and nipping at your flesh whenever the two of you were alone. He liked how you would whimper under his hold, all the bite marks he left on your neck trailing down your shoulders would leave him grinning. Your pain is his pleasure but he wouldn't do anything very painful that would leave you to die in his arms, he wouldn't want that.

Under all his crazy and silly antics, Dottore is insecure.

There would be times where he would be staring at the corner and wondering if you would ever leave him for someone else if he wasn't a psycho.

Reassurance is the key to help Dottore.

Always make sure to remind him that you love him for who he is. Shower him in your affections until he's drowning in your love, figuratively. He'll be like a cat, nuzzling into you and just holding onto you tightly as if he were afraid you would disappear if he let you go.

His love languages are physical touch and words of affirmation.

He also gets jealous easily. If he sees someone, man or woman, even placing a hand on you, he would be pulling you away from that person before giving them one of those grins that he does whenever he's about to experiment on someone and telling them to 'kindly fuck off'.

"Honestly, darling.. have you even noticed the way they were looking at you? I'll make sure to remember their face and make them my next test subject!"

He immediately stopped ranting when you gave him a kiss on his cheek. His face turning a shade of red as he looked away for a moment before looking back at you with a scowl.

"Are you being serious? That wasn't even considered a kiss!"

He would immediately pull you inside his laboratory before pinning you to a wall and pressing his lips against yours.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #dottore #dottore x reader #zandik x reader #il dottore #female reader #gender neutral reader #il dottore x reader

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archiveikemen · 3 months

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『 The Past Records 』 Collection Event: Chapter 1

Jude Jazza & Ellis Twilight

This is a fan-made translation solely for entertainment purposes with no guaranteed perfection. I do not own any of the original content. Please support CYBIRD by buying their stories and playing their games. Reblogs appreciated.

❥･• Warnings and FAQ

< Ellis' POV >

I’m sure we met each other four years before we joined Crown.

On the night I arrived in London and was wandering around town in search of accommodation, I was crossing a bridge when I saw him there looking up at the moon.

Looking at his vacant facial expression from his side profile as he finished smoking a cigarette, I thought he was going to fall into the river below.

So, I asked him a question.

Ellis: Are you happy?

Jude: … So what if I am?

Ellis: I’ll make the happiest moment in your life… last forever.

Jude: Hah? What was that? You’ve got a screw loose.

Jude: The happiest moment in my life, huh. Perhaps—

…

< Third Person POV >

Victor: Work again? I was informed in advance, but you two sure seem busy.

It was morning at Crown’s castle. Victor had just arrived at the dining room for breakfast when two people were already heading out after finishing theirs even though it was still early in the morning, and so he called out to them as they passed by one another.

Ellis: Sorry, Victor. We’ll be back by nightfall, so let’s discuss the mission then.

Victor: Ahh, how very commendable! I’m perfectly OK with that!

Jude: Shut up. You don’t have to apologise to this weirdo every single time.

Victor: You have a very sharp tongue, Jude. But I like that about you.

Jude: Creep.

Ellis: We’ll be taking our leave now.

The two left the castle with facial expressions contradicting each other’s.

Liam: I’m impressed with how you’re still not depressed despite being treated with that tone daily, Victor.

Victor: Well, those two were recruited by me after all.

Liam: Just like them, you also told me that you were “OK with me keeping my current job” when I joined Crown. But they seem so much busier than I am.

Liam: I wonder if they have the time to go on missions for Crown.

Ever since Ellis and Jude joined Crown a few days ago, the two had yet to even go on their first mission.

William: Well, there’s no deadline for when they must have their first mission by.

Harrison: … You know, can we really trust those two guys?

William: What makes you say so?

Harrison: They say that they're traders, but I heard some suspicious rumours about them. It’s said that they have enemies everywhere holding grudges against them.

Liam: Oh, I heard those rumours too. Such rumours occasionally spread amongst my fellow actors.

Liam: There's rumours about things like an aristocrat got swindled of their entire fortune.

Harrison: It won’t be a problem if they’re merely immoral businessmen.

Harrison: But if they're spies from elsewhere, we can’t just sit back and do nothing.

Victor: Do you not trust them?

Harrison: As much as you’re a weirdo, but I believe that you’re a good judge of character. It’s just that…

Victor: !! Did you hear that, William?! Harry just praised me!

William: Yes, I did. He has more to say.

Victor: Right, please continue!

Harrison: … You’re really a pain in the neck.

Harrison: It’s just that because of these rumours, their background is too dubious for us to feel like we can safely assume that they’re trustworthy.

Harrison: Don’t you think we shouldn't let them go their own way too often?

Victor: Hmm, you have a point… but I don’t want to impose too much restriction on their freedom.

William: Why don’t we ascertain for ourselves, whether they can be trusted?

Victor: Ascertain for ourselves… I like that idea!

Liam: Ahaha, looks like something’s brewing.

Harrison: Ohhh I have a bad feeling about this.

…

Victor: All members of Crown are here~! It’s time for a new mission, and I call it “Operation Observe Jude and Ellis’ Way of Life”!

Liam: Wow—! *seal clapping*

Alfons: Another one of Victor’s idiotic plans? Marvellous.

Victor: I want everyone to observe the two of them and submit reports to me.

Victor: The theme shall be “are the two of them suited for Crown?”.

Harrison: Damn it… I shouldn’t have said anything. I already have enough on my plate as it is.

Elbert: … You’re busy?

Alfons: If I’m not mistaken, you’re in the midst of a proofreading job with no extensions allowed for its deadline, and the author of the book has yet to submit their first draft.

Alfons: I think you also mentioned having to burn the midnight oil before the deadline.

Liam: Then, why not have Harry be the commander?

Liam: The investigation works will be distributed amongst all the members except Harry!

Alfons: A Sneaking Mission? Sounds like fun.

Elbert: I don't mind.

Roger: I mean, I don’t see why not?

Harrison: … By the way, can I choose NOT to be a part of this?

William: At this juncture, I highly doubt so.

Harrison: … Right.

Victor: Well then, the investigation begins!

#ikemen villains #ikemen series #cybird ikemen #otome #cybird otome #ikevil collection event #jude jazza #ellis twilight

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possibilistfanfiction · 1 year

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avatrice + kiss on the back of the hand?

[ava + some friends, more outside pov (in the future!) for @unicyclehippo]

despite the fact that physical therapy is boring, and not at all your favorite activity, you like your therapist, brian, and at least you’ve gotten to consistently schedule it early enough in the morning you don’t miss your bridge group. and you’ve been compliant — mostly; you did spend more time on your feet last week than you were supposed to, but your grandson was visiting and you would never let him leave without having his favorite brisket and matzoh ball soup — and have done the exercises brian gives you to do at home every day.

the physical therapy gym is mostly boring, more — and you hate to say it — old people, like you, recovering from total knee or total hip replacements, and a few young athletes. your son, ezra, drops you off and picks you up twice a week; sometimes his husband, marcus, fills in and he always takes you to get donuts afterward, your little secret. today you sit at the table you always start at, your walker steady and almost unnecessary at this point, and a young woman, exhausted-looking and the kind of pretty that could easily belong in a party when you were young, sitting in a sleek wheelchair by the table, smiles gently across you. you’re early by a few minutes — ezra is wonderful, but he’s a bit wound up all the time — so you smile back. ‘i’m ruth,’ you say.

‘hi.’ the young woman seems happy to talk, cheerful. ‘i’m ava.’

‘very exciting beginning to your morning, it seems like.’

she groans. ‘ugh, tell me about it. my partner barely woke up in time to drive me here.’

you laugh. ‘not a morning person?’

ava rolls her eyes. ‘no, not at all. i love mornings though, even if they’re at physical therapy.’

‘it’s not so bad,’ you tell her. ‘have you done it before?’

‘not really.’ she shrugs. ‘i have some chronic spine stuff from a car accident when i was younger, and my doctors have tried… a lot, so we’re hoping this helps everything.’

‘i hope it’ll help.’ you gesture to your walker. ‘total hip replacement. from being old.’

ava’s smile is bright. ‘kinda cool, to get old, though, huh? and to have as cool of clothes as you do? i can only hope the same for myself, one day.’

it’s sweet, and sincere, and aching under the surface. ‘it is wonderful, to get to grow old. and —‘ you wink — ‘to get to be better dressed than everyone around you.’

‘hell yeah.’ she looks at her own hoodie and joggers. ‘i usually am better dressed than this, or, at least, more fun; i just had surgery last week.’

‘well, when you’re feeling better, i’m sure i’ll be very impressed.’

‘i don’t know about that.’ ava blushes a little, and you’re delighted. ‘i think my partner is probably the better dressed of the two of us; she’s very chic. but i’m fun!’

‘fun is the most important part. especially when you’re an old lady.’

she laughs and then brian walks up, says hi to you, and you wave. ‘good luck, ava. i’ll talk to you soon.’

‘for sure,’ she tells you enthusiastically.

you’re waiting on a bench in front of the physical therapy gym in the warm sunshine — not too hot, not too cold, perfect — when ava walks toward you, slowly and with a cane, but walking.

‘is this seat taken?’

‘for a pretty girl like you? absolutely not.’

she laughs, bright and warm. ‘ruth, you flirt.’

‘i’m old.’ she sits gingerly and it makes you hurt for her, just a little — not that she needs any mobility aids, but because it’s clear she’s in pain. ‘i get to flirt whenever i want.’

‘oh, is that how it works?’

‘absolutely,’ you tell her sagely.

‘well, other than me, of course, let me know if there are any crushes i should know about? i love drama, and my life is, both tragically and fortunately, drama free right now.’

‘well, sean in my bridge group, and david from shul. oh, and lee from my favorite cafe i go to for lunch.’

‘hmm, pros and cons? or are we playing the field?’

you laugh, and you tell her about sean’s clever hands, the beautiful way david reads scripture, how lee always offers you half his reuben. ava listens attentively, like she really cares, and, after she asks a thoughtful series of questions about how to play bridge — my girlfriend would probably demolish at this game, honestly — you understand that she really does care; she really does want to know you. so you ask her questions too; her partner’s name is beatrice, and she is, according to ava, beautiful and kind and exacting; ava grew up mostly in spain and is a bartender, which she loves, and they live in a house on the beach because beatrice, apparently, works in consulting all over europe, and also enjoys teaching aikido. ‘she has four black belts,’ ava says, and fans herself. it makes you laugh, and when marcus drives up in his practical, nice bmw hybrid, you pat her hand.

‘see you tuesday, ruth.’

‘enjoy your weekend, ava.’

ava’s walking better on tuesday, and she sits next to you without asking this time, after you’re both finished. she fishes around in her crossbody bag and then holds out her hand, some candy with wrappers in mandarin on her palm. ‘they’re plum candies. they’re beatrice’s favorites, so i thought i was being sweet, but, i kinda went overboard and ordered, like, enough for a small army.’

you laugh but take one — you would never turn down an offered sweet; something of a communion — and open it while ava does the same. it’s wonderful: flavorful and sweet and a little sour, and you tell ava that.

‘ugh, i know,’ she says. ‘i don’t think bea had had them for a really long time; she cried the other day.’ ava smiles, like she’s trying not to laugh. ‘it was very sweet. a little dramatic, but i get it. i kind of go crazy for panellets.’

‘well, i’m making babka tomorrow, how about i bring you both some thursday?’

‘ruth, that’s too much.’

‘i love to share food,’ you say. ‘really, it’s part of the job description of a bubbe. they only let you in if you share your babka.’

ava rolls her eyes but then she nods. ‘i would really love that.’

ezra drives up, and you stand — easily, now, without pain and much stiffness — and wave.

your babka turns out as good as it always does — the best at shul, despite the fact that yael claims hers is better — and you place a few carefully in a tupperware to bring to ava, who seems a little wilted when she sits next to you. she waves you off when you look concerned.

’no big deal,’ she says. ‘just didn’t sleep too well last night. but! now i’m going to eat the world’s best babka and nap after bea drops me off. do you think i could convince her to nap with me?’

‘depends on why you didn’t sleep well last night.’

it takes ava a minute but then she laughs, brightening immediately. ‘ruth!’

‘you’re young, you should be having fun.’

‘oh, we have fun.’ ava grins. ‘don’t worry.’

‘well, speaking of fun,’ you say, ‘a few of my friends and i go to this water aerobics class at the country club together, every wednesday. i’m sorry if i was eavesdropping, but i heard kayvon tell you that some water therapy might be helpful? it’s really quite fun.’

‘that sounds awesome, honestly. i just got cleared to drive myself next week, so i would love that!’

you don’t bother to mention that everyone in the class is over seventy, mostly because you don’t really care, but, also, ava doesn’t seem to care, at all, that you’re at least fifty years older than her: you’re friends, and she’s kind, and bright.

once again, marcus is there to pick her up before her ride, but you give her your number — and you add her on facebook, because that’s easier for you sometimes — before you leave. you send her the details later that day, and she responds with a few emojis you don’t understand, but that your grandson laughs at when you show him. good enough.

‘i didn’t know, really, what to wear to water aerobics,’ ava says, happily sitting on the edge of the pool with you. she has on a simple red one-piece, her hair tied up in a bun, although short pieces escape. the back dips low and you see multiple scars, some faded and one new, and painful looking; ava’s light often makes you forget why you first met.

‘this is great,’ you tell her. you gesture to your brightly colored, polka dotted tankini. ‘you can spice it up however much you want. just wait until you meet angela.’

as if on cue, angela, tall and Black and striking, walks in, with her perpetually perfect close cropped hair, in a pair of heels and draped in an elegant silk coverup over a royal blue bikini. ‘whoa,’ ava says, and it’s so earnest it makes you laugh.

‘listen,’ ava says, ‘i’m bi, queer, and, yeah, i have a partner who is so so so beautiful, like, god, this morning she came home from surfing and used our outdoor shower — thank god for her trust fund, am i right? — but… ruth, i have eyes.’ she looks over to you. ‘you have eyes too, right? like, no offense to sean and david and lee, but… angela is stunning, okay?’

‘she is,’ you grant her, mostly because you’re amused. angela walks over and smiles, gracious and perfect, and you gesture to ava, who gulps. ‘angela, ava. ava, angela.’

‘hello, ava,’ angela says. ‘ruth says that she’s quite fond of you from physical therapy.’

‘yeah,’ ava says, a little stunned. ‘that’s — that’s really kind, ruth.’

‘we don’t invite just anyone to water aerobics. it’s an exclusive club.’

‘other than courtney,’ angela grumbles.

’well, true,’ you admit. ‘but she’s not part of lunch. ava, next week, you should come join us.’

‘i would love that,’ she says. ‘beatrice will too, i’ll make sure of it.’

you laugh, and angela waves to rosa and farha when she sees them. class goes great; ava seems, when you look over at her a few times, to enjoy it a lot. even though you hadn’t really worried that ava would feel out of place, any nagging feelings are assuaged when she gets out of the pool and wraps a towel around her shoulders, carefully moves on the wet floor with a cane.

‘i told bea i’d be home soon,’ she says, ‘and she gets kinda nervous when i’m late. but! i’ll see you at therapy tomorrow, and i’ll definitely plan on lunch next week.’ she hesitates for a moment and then gives you a hug, which fills you with a very particular kind of warmth. ‘thank you, for inviting me.’

‘of course, ava. see you tomorrow.’

you see ava at therapy and you think, for the most part, she’s improving: you haven’t seen her wheelchair in months, and she still uses her cane, but you think it’s mostly because it feels safer, especially if she’s sore. you start going once a week but it doesn’t really matter, because she comes to water aerobics in increasingly fun swimsuits, including a purple stripped bikini that makes even angela whistle. ‘oh, to be young again,’ she had said, and ava had blushed.

‘so, how did you meet beatrice?’ margot asks, back from her annual trip to florida.

ava puts down her fork and smiles, so soft. ‘work, in spain. a job i didn’t even want, even. but, even from when we first met, she’s always just been so kind. we spent a sabbatical together, one summer, and that’s when i really fell in love with her.’

‘love at first sight, then?’ angela grins.

‘maybe not quite,’ ava says, then laughs. ‘i was… difficult, back then. obviously, i’m a total angel now.’

you roll your eyes and farha says, ‘oh, sure.’

‘we’ve been through a lot,’ ava says, softer and very sincere. ‘she’s — she’s the best person i know.’

‘well we need to meet her,’ you decide, even though you’ve been meaning to ask them both to shabbat soon anyway. ‘bring her to lunch friday?’

‘if that’s okay with everyone? i guarantee she has exceedingly good manners, much much better than mine.’

‘low bar,’ rosa says.

‘ha ha, very funny.’ ava tries her best not to smile but then does anyway, brighter than the noon sun overhead outside.

you’re just sitting down at the table, one extra seat this week, when ava perks up and then stands, steady and even, and you see who you know, from pictures ava has shown you, is beatrice, smiling a little nervously. ‘hi, baby,’ ava says, and beatrice takes ava’s hand and gently places a kiss to her knuckles, like a genuine knight.

‘absurd,’ angela whispers from next to you, and you try not to laugh loud enough for them to hear you, because they’re young but they’re not that young: they have a home together, and you know, from the few things ava has mentioned privately, usually on days that are too, too bright, things have been hard, and they’ve had to spend time apart in the past, and ava is thankful.

‘hello, everyone,’ beatrice says, her accent and posture extremely formal, in contrast to her casual but still, somehow, smart black hoodie and white sweatshorts and birkenstocks. her hair is in a messy bun, a few strands escaping that ava happily pushes behind her ears, and a big tattoo sitting above her left knee; she’s muscular and strong, but there are freckles spread across her cheeks and, when ava smiles at her, she softens, entirely. they are young, and, even though ava has shown you pictures, you’re still struck, in the moment, by how much they fit.

there’s a chorus of hi, beatrice and it’s so good to meet you and ava talks about you all the time, but beatrice takes it all in stride, a happy little smile on her face. you understand, quickly, that they fit, the same way you and aaron had, so long ago: ava is loud and overwhelmingly bright, enthusiastic and generous with all of her affection, and beatrice is quietly funny, whip smart, and thoughtfully attentive to ava. she turns and listens, fully, to whoever is talking, and knows about rosa’s birding, and the shrine farha talks about in lahore, and the new podcast angela is listening to. she’s impressive, as a person, and ava seems distinctly aware of it, basking, a little, in being chosen by someone so special.

‘sorry i’m underdressed,’ beatrice says after you order. ‘i was surfing this morning, and then had to jump on a work call, and i didn’t want to be late.’

‘everything okay?’ ava checks.

‘yes,’ beatrice says, soothes a hand along ava’s thigh and then squeezes her knee. ‘nothing of concern.’

ava squints. ’were you just asleep? you wouldn’t lie to me, right?’

beatrice pauses. ‘i was — well, catching up on some sleep, when camila called.’

ava barks a laugh. ‘bea is the sleepiest person i know.’

‘sleep is one of the great pleasures of life,’ angela says, regal and finite in her statement, ‘among other things in bed.’

beatrice grins while ava blushes. ‘now i know why you like coming to these classes and lunches so much,’ beatrice says, shooting angela a wink. ‘you do have a type.’

‘ah, and what a type it is,’ ava says, sighing for effect, seemingly recovered from her momentary emabrassment.

at the end of lunch, you do invite them to shabbat, and beatrice asks your favorite kind of kosher wine.

‘okay, you are all sworn to secrecy,’ ava says, leaning forward at the table. it’s not particularly quiet, because farha’s hearing aides can only do so much, and rosa flat out refuses to wear any, but there’s no on important around you anyway.

‘wonderful,’ angela says.

‘i love a secret,’ you agree.

‘well.’ ava lets out a big breath. ‘beatrice and i are going to switzerland, next week, to the alps, where we spent our first summer together, and i —‘ she shakes her head — ‘this feels so crazy, but i’m going to propose.’

it sends the whole table into a flurry of excitement, asking about ava’s plan — a hike, the one they would go on every tuesday together, slowly and for fun — and the ring ava had picked out — beautiful, and elegant, and perfect, you think — and, ‘do you think she’ll say yes?’

ava gulps. ‘i know she wants to spend her life with me.’ she sounds sure, and calm, despite her fingers nervously fidgeting with her napkin. ‘she was… very religious, for a long time, so, like, she’s always been really accepting of other same sex marriages, but i think it’s taken her a minute to get her to feel ready for, like, our own very queer marriage. sacrament, and all that, i guess.’ she shakes her head. ‘but anyway, yes! i think she’s ready. i think she really wants to get married.’

her smile is gentle, serene, and you had watched beatrice — in neat linen, her hair long and swept over her shoulder, fight her way through eating multiple bites of gefilte fish last friday, even though it was clear she hated it, and say prayers in hebrew, quietly. ava had been in her chair; you hadn’t asked, and neither had anyone from shul or your family, but beatrice had made sure that she had everything she needed, unobtrusive and practiced. ava had been, unexpectedly, the life of the party, charming everyone with her laugh and her silly puns and a very spirited debate with your granddaughter about women’s soccer. they’re a pair, you understood, very clearly: at the end of the night, ava had encouraged beatrice, gently, to take extra kugel along with the challah and chicken you’d already put in tupperware for them; beatrice had gotten their sweaters from the closet and handed ava’s to hers with a kiss to her forehead, tender and private, a moment that had belonged just to them.

‘we’ll all be eagerly awaiting the engagement photographs,’ angela says with sure gravitas.

‘post them on facebook,’ you tell her, and ava laughs, but she promises, later, when you give her a hug, that she will.

‘thank you, for inviting us,’ you tell ava, a bit in awe, if you’re being honest, of their house. she bounces around happily, and angela just looks at you with a raised brow for a moment. there are bright red and gold decorations everywhere, and beatrice walks over with a neat bun and beautiful jacket, embroidered so elegantly even angela seems a little in love with it.

’happy new year,’ she says, and you both give her a hug as you return the sentiment, then shows you to their kitchen, with a spread of chinese food that smell so, so good, and then gestures out to the open-air doors and patio that overlooks the ocean. ‘help yourselves to whatever you want. ruth, there are plenty of dishes that i made sure meet all kosher standards; they should be labeled. and there’s plenty of seating, and come find me if you need anything.’ she pauses. ‘or ava, but she gets a little… activated when we have a lot of people over.’

‘so, did we know how rich they were?’ angela says, loading her plate with everything she can after beatrice walks away to greet more guests.

‘not this rich.’

you both wait a beat and then laugh, and you find seats by the railing; your hip doesn’t hurt at all anymore. ava finds you both eventually and steals an egg roll from your plate with a laugh. ‘i’ll get you another one,’ she promises. ‘and, i just wanted to say, thanks for being my friends. i know it’s silly, but the water aerobics have really helped me feel better — and much less bored — when my mobility has been limited. and i love hearing about your lives, and sharing mine. i just —’ she scrubs her hand along the back of her neck, her hair neatly trimmed to her chin, fluttering in the breeze. ‘i went a long time without great role models.’

it’s so sincere and so touching. angela sniffles and you fish a hanky from your purse and hand it to her; she dabs her eyes.

‘don’t call us old,’ she says, voice breaking, and ava laughs.

‘i could’ve called you my adoptive grandmothers, so count your blessings.’

you roll your eyes when she takes a big, smiling bite of her (your) egg roll. ‘you are a blessing,’ you tell her.

ava swallows her bite and then leans to hug you, tight and sincere. ‘thank you,’ she whispers.

‘happy new year, ava.’

‘yeah,’ she says, a little teary but with a huge smile. ‘happy new year.’

#we have been talking abt ava & her bubbe for... Months !! lol #finally got to it #ava & the gals #ft sleepy bea #wn #warrior nun fic #avatrice #avatrice fic #prompts #also happy lunar new year!!!! this is the new year they're attending fyi if that isn't clear lol #also yes ava's type rly is like exacting smartly dressed women who are in fact taller than her

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3332344444 · 5 months

Text

I swear I loved you

Warnings: Dilf!Johnny Cage, Age gap (Reader is 34, Johnny is 56), Blood, Dead (I think that is enough of a warning, actually). Actually I think this shit is sad soooo

Resume: Reader and Johnny are married and Reader is deadly injured. Something happens and they can find themselves again in another timeline

Writer note: I wrote this as my first time writing something about Mr. Cage, if you would like the second part of the fic, pls tell me about it and I will write it. Please listen to the song, I took a lot of inspiration from there

I can't let you go with grace.

Forgetting you is beyond me. You know I'm no stranger to pain. I won't release my grip unless they sever my hands or, at the very least, my fingers.

I don't want to set you free.

But I can't bear to witness your suffering any longer.

Today, in this moment, in this version of myself, I find myself back on our wedding day.

You, in that blue suit you adored. That day solidified that the sky's color truly belonged to you.

There you are again, waiting for me at the altar, a white rose on your suit.

And me, once more in my long white dress and veil, with my brother by my side. Clinging to Tomas like there's no tomorrow. Only he knew how terrified I was that day, supporting me so I wouldn't crumble.

Seeing familiar faces as I walked toward you was both comforting and heartbreaking. Seeing Kuai Liang and even Liu Kang made me believe the war could end, and we could finally be happy.

Despite our 22-year age difference, it all faded in that moment. Nothing else mattered, just your brown eyes looking at me and your restless hands waiting for mine.

Cassie smiled at me, crucial for me to feel accepted. After what happened with Sonia, I didn't want you both to suffer more. Luckily, you both found comfort in me, not as replacements, but as a refuge.

When I reached you, my brother handed you my hands like they were delicate flowers. And then he sat down.

Lifting my gaze and meeting your brown eyes, my soul sighed.

That day, we accepted each other and promised eternal love. Unknowingly, with that kiss, we bound our souls forever.

And even though these memories are beautiful and precious, unlike anything else in my life, I have to face reality. The truth now is me in your arms, fading away, promising to let us go.

This wound on my neck will not heal even with your faithful kiss. And I am not willing to see you cry again.

With the last strength that I have in me, I try to touch your cheek. I want to apologize for the blood that I left where I touched you, but I know I don’t have time for apologies.

“We need to let go, Cage,“ I told you as if it was nothing, even though I choked a little on my own blood. “I need you to know we will be bonded forever.“

I felt dizzy and tired. I just wanted to sleep, and the world seemed hurtful enough to even have me in it.

You were crying, and for one moment, I wanted to stay.

You held and even kissed my bloody hand. One rebel tear ran down my cheek.

“I need to find you in another life, in another timeline, beyond this world,“ You said crying. “It is not as easy to let you go as it seems.“

I did not have much time left, and I needed to make a promise with you.

As I could, I pulled my dagger and handed it to you.

“I… need you to take care of this… while I am gone,“ I told you. I could not hold you anymore, and in a few moments, I would lose the ability to speak too.

You looked at me, and fortunately, Kuai Liang grabbed you by the shoulder and told you to let go. I shut my eyes, ready to let myself go too.

You left me on the ground, but not before you told me how much you loved me.

The floor felt hard at first, but then it just became as soft as our bed. I opened my eyes as I wanted to see you go, but the only thing I found myself with was two white eyes.

“What the…” I said.

I did not really understand the situation until I realized I encountered with Liu Kang right in front of me.

I sat down, touched my neck and, to my surprise, I wasn't bleeding anymore.

Liu Kang gave me his hand and helped me to stand on my feet.

We were in a place with a lot of trees, and I could feel a breeze on my face. I was calm as I would never be in life. To my understanding, I was dead, but I did not understand why Liu Kang was there with me.

But he was there with me, and I hadn't seen him in a long time. I looked at him and hugged him tightly; I missed him so, so much.

“I missed you lots,” I told him. “It's so good to see you again.”

He laughed and held me tight. I felt his warmth and thought that death wasn't that bad.

I looked at him again, and he just smiled at me. He started talking.

“You died,” He said. “But I know how much you loved Johnny, and as I couldn't have another opportunity with Kitana, I would like to give you another opportunity with him.”

We started to walk along the trees, and I was very confused by his words. We were mere humans; how would he do that?

“I am very thankful, but how exactly would that be possible?” I asked him.

He laughed again.

“I am a god now; I will create another timeline, and I would like to consider the love that you and Johnny have. But with this, I have some conditions that I would like you to know,” He told me.

It was a lot of information, and he just spoke as if it was the most normal thing in the world.

“I can not explain to you many things, but over time, we will speak about it, I promise,” He spoke.

I trusted Liu Kang with my life; he was like a brother to me. I nodded, waiting for him to keep talking.

“You will meet a new Johnny, but he will be exactly the same one you loved. You will remember everything, but he won't. It's your decision whether to accept this or not; I cannot assure you will fall in love again, but I am almost sure you both will. There are things that are impossible to forget.”

I just thought about it. It was my Johnny, but It was not my Johnny at all. Was I willing to take the risk?

“I want to be with him in this timeline and in any other,” I said.

He nodded and smiled.

“I'm sure this will be the best for you both.”

#mk1 #mortal kombat #johnny cage mk1 #johnny cage mk11 #johnny cage #liu kang mk1 #kuai liang #sub zero #dilf johnny cage #cassie cage #smoke mk #mk11 x reader #mk1 x reader #tomas vrbada #Spotify

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tobiasdrake · 3 months

Text

Okay, here we go. It's time to give a new game a go. I've had a lot of people pushing for this one so I'm excited.

I realize those are supposed to be rays of light shining off of whatever the thing is - a star, presumably - but it honestly looks like it's shooting at me. Should I be concerned?

I bet it tastes like lemon. It looks lemon-flavored to me. Though that might just be the black-and-white color scheme.

Hey. Uh. Pro tip, don't stand directly over someone's face when you're wearing a dress. There are better angles you can approach from.

Fortunately for you, I am a, uh... I am a....

...

You know what, I just woke up and I do not have sufficient information at this time to describe myself as "gentleman", "lady", or "person of esteemed character". I will get back to you when I have gathered more information as to my personal gender situation.

Yeah, sorry, I'm coming down from a wild trip. The kind where you can't be 100% sure if the things you just did caused the hallucinations or were part of the hallucinations. I think I actually saw the curvature of time.

It's a serrated crescent. I don't know what to do with that information. But I have it now.

Thank you, I feel like I will be able to hold more coherent conversations when I am more fully awake. And possibly caffeinated. If that is a thing we have.

FUCKING OW

I'M AWAKE

Ugh, that's like rolling over in just the wrong way so that your whole leg cramps up and then you have to throw yourself out of bed and walk on it to make the unbelievably agonizing pain go away. I GUESS I'M DONE BEING ASLEEP NOW.

There we go, information gathered. I have consulted the pocket notes I wrote to explain my gender to me and arrived at a conclusive answer: Masc-leaning non-binary.

Now that this mystery has been settled, I'm ready to face the day.

Well, the maybe/maybe-not hallucinations were fantastic but then it ended in violent agony so I'm gonna say that balances out to a 5.

You are alarmingly invested in my naptime quality. Are you trying to hint that you want me to go away for a couple more hours?

I dunno; I kinda just ruined my appetite for bedtime and I don't want to be that one person in the group who keeps trying to talk for hours and keeps everyone else awake.

Plus we're supposed to go fight the big bad evil guy in the morning and that might not be an appointment that we can show up to sleep-deprived. He might take offense.

Then again, we might be able to intimidate him with our cavalier attitudes and complete lack of regard for the severity of this situation.

OH NO

I didn't mean no! I just meant... we should really consider all the factors first!

...

I might be history's greatest monster.

...ugggggggh how did this become my problem.

Why does Odile get to be a Madame? I want to be a Madame. Super unfair that she gets the cool title and I'm just... uh....

SIFFRIN. I'm just Siffrin. Unfair.

If we're all staying in the same place then what's even the point of calling it a sleepo-- I MEAN I AM DOWN AND VERY ENTHUSIASTIC ABOUT YOUR SLEEPOVER IDEA YES THIS IS A WONDERFUL PLAN.

...

*quietly shuffles pocket notes back into pocket*

My memory is fine. Perfectly adequate.

OH THANK YOU I wanted one but I was too machismo to ask. You're always looking out for me, Mar... Merma....

Mirabelle! You're always looking out for me, Mirabelle. I appreciate it. ^_^

Now then. We have a fulfilling day ahead of us! Time to carry out the task I was assigned wander aimlessly around the village pokin' stuff.

#in stars and time #drake plays in stars and time

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thebunnycruise · 5 months

Note

Less of a question and more of a comment, Im sorry if its in the wrong spot lol, I just had to say this. I promise it’s not a hate comment, and sorry for the length.

I have never in my life seen something that has made me feel so physically ill. I feel genuinely sick reading this, and mentally exhausted from it. I have never read anything that has ever made me want to do something about these topics so badly. I hate this comic, and feel every fiber of my body crumble that I can’t do anything to help these women. It’s such an uncomfortable and painful feeling to see such heinous acts being done to people who i know are just down on their luck and never deserved this. I hate to sound cliche, but this was the eye opener of the fucking century.

You should be proud of your work, you’re doing something that I haven’t ever seen work as effectively and as potently as this.

One question I guess; I unfortunately can’t donate, but what else could us readers do? This comic destroyed me and I’m genuinely desperate at this point to see some happy ending come out of this, and I don’t know what I can do.

Thank you for this question! And sorry for ruining your mood, I think... TL/DR: Giving a shit is free. I recall this one lady being interviewed by a local news reporter regarding her views on the homeless problem in her neighbourhood, and she said something that stuck in my mind: "The more I have to [pick up] human feces, the less empathy I have." I think that one comment really hit home why we're at this point in society. People connect with the characters on the Bunny Cruise because we see their backstories, how they got to where they are, what they've lost along the way, what they dream of for the future, and how they've suffered in trying to reach for that dream. But, even though we know the guy OD'ing on the sidewalk passed out in his own sick must have had a life, have dreams, it's not something we think of in the moment. The difference between the Cruise and real life is that the girls have each other to support them through it, but we will walk over or side-step the heroin addict on the sidewalk without a second glance. That "mentally drained" and "physically ill" feeling is the cognitive dissonance talking. It's when we're forced to confront an perspective that challenges our way of thinking, or in this case, face a fear that perhaps the only difference between us and 67, 10, the twins, or that guy on the sidewalk, is just pure luck. For a lot of us, this is something very uncomfortable, and it's much easier to put it out of our heads and move on with our lives. And politicians take advantage of this fear and apathy far too often. Famously, Mark Sutcliffe (Calling you out, asshole), the recently elected Mayor of Ottawa, campaigned on zoning land for more large, single-family homes rather than more compact, affordable housing. He called it "preserving the community and keeping it safe", but we all know what that really means by now. Or they will call for increased police spending and promise to be tougher on crime (which Sutcliffe also did). Because having bad luck or being neglected and abused by capitalism is a crime now... I think the easiest thing to do, is to just think about it, and speak up when the issue comes up. All too often, things like homeless shelters, affordable housing projects, and safe injection sites, don't get built because people don't want to think about the people living on the fringe of society. But the thing is, people with nowhere to go have to go somewhere.

I donate to a women's shelter because I've worked with women fleeing violence in the past, and it's an important cause for me. I also realize that I am in a very fortunate position to be able to pay rent and have a little left over to put toward charity work. But speaking up and spreading the word is free. The next time someone wants to veto a safe injection site project, speak up against them, ask them what millionaire real estate firm is lining their pockets. Vote for that city councilor campaigning to build shelters and affordable homes. Have a relative who says "the homeless deserve what's happening to them"? Shut them down, ruin that christmas dinner. They sound like a dick anyway.

It's not much, but I think if we can all treat our fellow humans a little better instead of kicking them to the curb, we can make a bit of a difference in the world.

#ask the bunny cruise #ask me anything

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multiplicity-positivity · 1 month

Note

I know where very much not fake at all but it sucks specially as someone with OSDD-1B with the lakc of anesthesia that we fake claim ourselves at least once a week and cause we have really horrible communication with each other and difficulties even knowing who is fronting and such and them, of course the feeling of your trauma not being enough. It really sucks and we just want thoes feelings to go away :< Sometimes i cant even feal any of the symptoms at times and sometimes they all just hit us like a truck and me the host am front locked. Its not possible for me to even get out of front at all i can only be co conscious.

Hi! It sounds like y’all have been struggling lately, and we’re really sorry to hear that!

We know this is probably a vent, but if it’s okay, we’d like to offer a few affirmations for you. We’re putting them under a cut though since they are unsolicited!

- All these feelings you’re experiencing are natural and they’re pretty normal for most systems! They are definitely a pain to deal with, but we promise you’re not alone in feeling them. It’s okay to feel negative emotions and try to experience them fully! Your feelings alone are in no way an indication of the validity or lack thereof of your system.

- Not experiencing amnesia is not at all an indication that you’re not plural or not dealing with a dissociative disorder. As far as we understand, a lack of amnesia is even a qualifying criteria for OSDD-1B!

- Struggling with communication is also incredibly common and an unfortunate reality for many systems. Fortunately, for most systems, communication is a skill like any other and can be improved with time, patience, and lots of practice! Don’t give up - please keep trying to keep in touch with your system as often as you feel able to!

- It’s actually a common trauma response to feel like the trauma that you endured “wasn’t enough” or that “other people have had it worse.” You didn’t deserve any of the trauma or hardships you were put through - your trauma is real and your response to that trauma through your dissociative disorder is valid!

- There are lots of systems out there with frontstuck hosts. Our own system has a host who is nearly always frontstuck! There is actually a community-coined label (specutien <- pluralpedia link) that describes such systems with frontstuck hosts!

We hope this helps, even if only a little bit! We truly do wish that things get better for you soon, anon. Thanks so much for reaching out, and take care!

#osdd 1b #communication #trauma #vent #frontstuck

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outofgloom · 7 months

Text

DAYSTARS

Daystars burned orange above the tundra and the mountains of storm, and showed us our position. Five days we had tracked across the snowfield. Five warmthless days and nights on the waste, but the beast was close now. I splayed my many-jointed fingers upon the fresh snow and focused my uppermost eye, and I could smell it.

Aabar stopped beside me, knelt down to my level.

“How far, inspector?” she asked, and I could smell her impatience. Vortixx despise the cold and the stillness it brings. She was ready to end the hunt.

I sank my fingers further into the snowcover, twitched them against the stone beneath. Vaguely the shape of the terrain ahead revealed itself to me, the sloping up into hard rock and the ravine opening there, less than thirty bio ahead. I relayed as much.

“The beast wants to escape through the pass,” the Vortixx hissed.

“The poison jungles of Tren Krom are beyond,” Japra added as she approached, rubbing her arms to warm them. “Does it know that, you think?”

Aabar shrugged: “It’s only a Rahi.”

“A Rahi that is immune to all poisons, toxins, and paralytics, according to our employers. Maybe the jungle is its home, and it’s returning there. Or maybe it’s just smarter than we thought?”

“Doesn’t matter.” Aabar stood to her full height again, stretched her claws. “We’ll catch up by day’s end, and our commission is to kill anyways, not paralyze-and-capture.”

“I know, and it’s a shame. I’ve been itching to use the Makika-venom concentrate.”

“Next time.”

I spoke: “It is unlike the Makuta, to seek death for such a specimen.”

“Why do you say that?” Japra asked.

“They usually like their targets living, for their strange purposes.”

“We are paid to do, not to ask why,” Aabar said. “If the Makuta want this thing dead, that’s that.”

I nodded. She beckoned to the Olmaran hunters down the slope, made signs for them to break camp.

“It’s strange, I agree,” Japra said to me quietly. “We’ve hunted for the Makuta before, but this is different. The emissary called it something…the last living Keeta-beast, I think. I’ve never heard of it.”

“The scent is unique, yes, and the tracks…” I wove my fingers together in thought. “Maybe you should’ve learned to power-feed off of confusion, instead of the emotion of fear.”

Japra laughed. “Many times, my friend, they are the same thing.”

======

I stumble, and my traitor body leaves a trail to darken the white snow behind me. It is dark beneath the night and the driving stormwind, and I am slow because my legs are bent wrong now. Fortunately, it is also very cold, so the pain is dull.

Above and ahead, I can still see the last few daystars burning, though the air is full of ice. I set my course by them, away, away…

My lefthand fingers are crushed to ribbons and useless, but my right…My right can still feel. I spread my many-jointed fingers across the ground before me, to smell out the return path, back down the mountain. The ravine is far away now, back up the snowfield, and the wrecked bodies of my companions are frosting over.

There was nothing to be done. I had to leave them. It was my mistake. I should have seen it. So confident were we, so sure of ourselves, and then…and then…

I am the last, and I must make it back, tell them that our hunt was successful, in spite of everything. That we brought down our quarry. Someone must know.

I can still smell the beast, somehow, even though I know it is dead. Its scent clings close, like a memory.

I hope that it will fade soon, and maybe, someday, I too can forget.

======

It was midday by the time we reached the ravine, but the tracks were still clear. Even Aabar could make them out. Large, cut deep in the snow. Further in, it was dark, and there was fog pouring off the mountainside above.

The three Olmaran hunters readied their equipment, affixed spearheads, loaded the Sai-Lutu and the tangle-lines. Japra performed the breath-action to calm her nerves, and readied herself to feed upon the beast’s primitive fear. Aabar tested the charge on her electrified claws, then pulled the party’s Hau from her pack, handing it to me.

“Just a precaution,” she said when I grimaced. “The fog is heavy in there, so you will have to sight the way for us.”

I sighed and placed the mask on my face, felt the surge of its protective energy. I squinted my third eye through the narrow upper vent. It was constricting, but not as bad as other masks.

“When we reach the target,” Aabar continued, “sign the beast’s position, and then fall back.”

“That’s right. Leave the heroics to us,” Japra said winkingly. “Can’t have you claiming a greater share.”

I itched at the mask.

Forward we went at a steady, silent pace. The Olmaran hunters crept along the walls of the ravine, while Japra and Aabar followed just behind me, on either side. I crouched, and my fingers crawled across the stone, drinking the vibrations of earth and air, creeping my perceptions forward through the gloom.

Minutes passed. We moved ahead. The air was dull with fog. My breath steamed through the side-vents of the Hau. Slowly, carefully.

All at once, there it was. I stopped and gave the sign, pointed into the mist. Five bio ahead it crouched behind a fallen boulder. The smell was very strong, and I could almost make out the beast’s shape in my head: A long, lithe body, claws clinking on the stones. Two forelegs…and the rearlegs–

Japra stepped in front of me, gesturing for me to fall back. Aabar was already advancing, and the Olmaran hunters flitted past on their spider-like legs, spears raised. I retreated a few steps further. The rearlegs…the rearlegs were not legs, I realized.

Ahead, the air buzzed with electricity, and there was a report from one of the Sai-Lutu. A sudden roar, cut short, and I could hear Japra laughing. The smell of the beast…the smell was very strong here. Was it over? I stepped forward through the fog, saw the shape of the downed Rahi dimly. One Olmaran stood over it, and Japra was kneeling by its side.

The rearlegs were not legs, I saw. They were treads…Two treads, with two clawed forelegs. A great mouth on a long extendable neck.

“All safe, Lhanen,” came the voice of Aabar, a few bio away. She was cleaning her claws. “Just a Muaka, it seems. Biggest I’ve ever seen, but no match for us. This might be the easiest job we’ve taken.”

A Muaka. I scratched my chin. It was strange…I had tracked the beast all this way, through snow and sleet. There hadn’t been any tread-marks. I had thought that the beast I was tracking was a biped–

I turned too late. A vast shape loomed through the fog behind me, square shoulders topped by a huge domed head. A single red eye glared with grim intelligence…and rage.

A shattering blow struck my Hau shield and broke it, and I was flying backward into the cliff–

======

The fog had subsided when I awoke, and a layer of frost had settled on the bodies of my companions, and on me. The ravine was silent except for the low moaning of wind above.

I examined their broken bodies for signs of life. There was none. I wept over them, though there were no tears in me and every step and movement was pain. I could not bring myself to touch the body of the beast, however. It was too terrible, lying huge and still. I could not see what injury had finally brought it down.

It was not really a beast–not like we had been told. In the moment when it attacked, I remembered how it had looked at me. There was something in its gaze, some strange form of understanding.

That eye was deep with knowledge, not like the eyes of a simple Rahi. There was anger, and the desperation to survive, but there was also judgment…and calculation.

It was an old creature, maybe even wise.

======

My leg twists wrong again, and pain breaks through the numbness, up into my body, but I keep on, through the wind and dark. I won’t give up. Not yet.

I can still smell the beast. It annoys me. I shake my head, wring out my frostbitten fingers, wishing to leave it all behind. The night is complete now, and the wind is howling steadily over me. I must find shelter soon, and in the morning I will make it across the rest of the snowfield and down the slopes beyond. I am tired, but I can make it. I am sure.

One last daystar burns through the driving snow ahead, and I am walking toward it, fixing my course on it. I am sure that it will lead me home.

======

I stood before the great corpse and knew that I should feel anger, or something, at least, but all I felt was loss.

The creature had known that we were tracking it…that I was tracking it. It had known…me, somehow. I saw the bruise-marks on the armor of the Muaka. The creature must have taken down the Rahi-tiger and carried it ahead, set a trap for us. It had been cunning. No wonder the Makuta sought it, even for its death.

“F-forgive me,” I stammered in the cold air. “Forgive us.”

The great eye did not glow. It stared straight ahead. I could not bear to remain before its gaze any longer.

======

The last daystar is low on the horizon. Very low. It is still there, in fact, though the silver nightstars have now appeared. Closer now. It is getting closer as I walk.

It is not a star.

I stop in my tracks. I can smell it, and my fingers twitch at the sensation of its presence. It is alive after all. I did not touch it in the ravine. I could not bear to.

The eye continues to approach, though I am standing still, and I understand. I am no longer the tracker, nor the hunter.

It is both.

Red light beams through the snow-filled air, and I feel the heat of it on my face.

My voice rasps out against the wind. I don’t know why:

“Hear me,” I say unbidden, though I doubt the creature can understand my speech. “You are no beast. I know this now. The Makuta told us that you were Keeta Ongu, last of your kind.”

One last heavy step, and it stands over me, a black shape beyond the margins of my sight.

“I wish I had understood before, for the sake of my friends, but we hunted you and harried you, and now it is done. You are no beast. You are the last, and so you must survive.”

The eye does not blink, nor waver. I am transfixed.

“Spare me,” I say, “and I will tell the Makuta that you are no more. I swear. On the third eye of Kalmah I swear it. Judge me, as you did before.”

A moment passes, and I spread my arms wide, wincing at the pain. The black shape stands before me, and my sight is filled with the light of the great eye.

“You are no beas--”

My words are battered away as a sudden roar flattens me to the ground. The air shakes with the noise, and all my senses are overwhelmed as I wait for death to come. The smell of the creature is everywhere, all around, and my eyes register nothing but red, red rage, red judgment, red death--

======

I awaken face down in the snow. It is dark, and pain moves through my legs and through my ruined fingers. I feel the pull of sleep once more, and I wish to let go, but something stops me.

I groan and roll over with some effort. I am alone, and the wind has subsided. Snow is falling gently on my face.

My head throbs as I raise it, looking around. I want to lay back down, but I can't yet. I squint my third eye and focus. I can see my footprints and the dark stain of fluid leading back up the slope, still just visible beneath a layer of snowfall. I cannot have been lying here for long.

I raise myself on one arm, and the pain in my legs jolts my weary brain further awake. I crane my neck around, to look where the creature had stood.

But there are no other tracks, no sign of a trail. The snow is unbroken. Not only that, but the smell of the creature is gone. Not even a trace. My mind is fuzzy, and sleep pulls at me again. It is very cold, and though I am used to the cold, even my body has limits. Sleep, rest. Your companions are gone. You are alone. It would be better...

No. I struggle up shakily, stamp my twisted legs, and roar with the pain in them. The pain is real, even if my memories are confused. It angers me, and the anger is good.

I start walking again. This time, I will not stop.

Ahead, the nightstars burn silver above the tundra and the mountains of storm, and I rage at them, for they are so far away, and I have so far to go.

I rage like a beast, a wounded beast, because that is how I will survive. The anger warms me, and I feel my eyes burn red with it, red with loss, and with rage, red with death...

You are no beast. You are the last, and so you must survive.

I have come through confusion, to the other side of fear. I have seen the last of the Keeta Ongu, and looked into its eye with my own.

Judge me, as you did before.

I am no beast.

I am the last.

And so I must survive.

#bionicle #art #writing #fanfiction #outofgloom #works

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welovemonstergirls · 11 months

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My thoughs on the recent Skullgirls censorship

Okay. So. I’m not the kind of guy that’s gonna call anyone a pedophile or a neo nazi or a racist for raising a fuss at the devs cutting out what they did.

I am, however, the kind of guy that’s gonna call everyone that’s throwing a conniption fit over a few cosmetic changes that effect NOTHING in the grand scheme of the game a pathetic, whiny, entitled crybaby BITCH for being so outraged about absolute NON-ISSUES.

What are you losing from not being able to stare at Filia’s ass in that one cutscene anymore? What’s being lost because they removed some armbands from the Egrets? This doesn’t make SENSE. All they changed was minor cosmetic stuff!

Filia’s panty shots? Who cares?! They’re not cutting out any of the stuff that makes people like the game, she’s still baring her midriff and wearing a belt in place of a skirt, that hasn’t changed! The sexualized stuff is still there! So Cerebella was censored in a FEW story shots where she’s in a non-consentinal situation where she’s literally about to be murdered or eaten, she’s still flashing her underwear in her actual gameplay! Parasoul, Ms. Fortune, Valentine, Eliza and Black Dahlia are all RIGHT THERE! Your precious sexual content hasn’t gone ANYWHERE, so this entire complain is just WORTHLESS and PATHETIC. You can’t handle the game being two percent less horny so you need to get all up in arms and review bomb the game in an active effort to hurt it because of some minor changes?!

The Egrets armbands make perfect sense! Maybe when the game was initially pitched they were meant to be something more Nazi-esque, but that simply isn’t the case anymore! EVERY time we see the Egrets in the modern age, they are portrayed as GOOD GUYS. Parasoul is a righteous ruler that genuinely wants to do what’s best for her people, and the men she leads are the only people in power that are FIGHTING FOR THE PEOPLE. They don’t want to have their biggest force of GOOD associated with LITERAL NAZI SYMBOLISM. Why is that such a hard thing for people to grasp?! I keep saying people claim that the Egrets are supposed to be the bad guys. No the fuck they’re not, what are you even watching to think that?!

Big Band’s story mode, that I can kinda get, it was very important to his overall character, that is the one thing I won’t fault anyone for being upset over. At the same time though, I get why they did it. It’s a very topical issue that they don’t personally feel well equipped to handle, and it’s possibly a bit too real for their fun action fighting game where a cartoon character fights a ninja nurse. I don’t agree with this choice, but I can understand it.

The concept art... I can also kiiiiind of get, I feel like if they’re gonna delete guest art they can at least replace it with new ones so that the fans are still getting SOMETHING out of it, but I can see what prompted the change. Like, them wanting to censor the fanservice on Filia and JUST Filia is not a big deal! If you don’t want to play the game with both hands, just pick Parasoul or Valentine ffs. And how often do you even go into the art gallery to look at images you can just as easily get online? This is another non-issue that doesn’ have anything to do with the game itself.

Finally, the Soviet Announcer voice pack. ...That voice pack was literally voiced by their fucking ABUSER. I can understand them wanting the voice of someone that hurt them OUT of the game they’re working on. Even if they got a different guy to voice it, it’s still a bit that was MADE by their abuser, Mike Z used it in his tutorials for Tager and Potemkin and it became a running gag. That voice pack is a literal reminder of someone who hurt them. So stop crying about “Muh soviet russia pack doh!” and accept the fact that they don’t want to hear his voice because it brings back painful memories for them. It’s not that hard. And as for Ben’s alternate voice pack? It’s literally based around sexual misconduct. So yeah.

I’m just pissed off that my favorite franchise of all time is suffering because some entitled, whiny little puke stains can’t handle minute changes that effect next to NOTHING about the game itself. Like a few cosmetic differences is the absolute end of the world. If you’re like that and you’re reading this? Stop crying like a little bitch, put on your big boy pants and accept the fact that these changes are LAUGHABLY MINOR. The designs are still the same. The story is still the same. The gameplay is still the same. The characters are still the same. The art style is still the same. EVERYTHING THAT MATTERS IS THE SAME. WHO. CARES?!

#skullgirls

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makima-s-most-smile · 10 months

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Trigun Maximum 8 Part 1

Emotional destruction Vol.2. There is more to come!

How… how has Nightow the style of 80s shoujo manga down to a T? I love it.

I didn’t see this at first, BUT KNIVES IS HOLDING A KNIFE! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA

01: Invasion

Of course, the Golden Gate-like-Bridge needs to be destroyed to show that the attack has begun. While the ark looks cool and all, it doesn’t really looks like something that can stay in the air. (really, Knives? Tell me how you plan to let the people on the ark live after you do the genocide. Self Absorbed bastard. This is your ark, for you alone.)

Yes, take even more agency from him.

Having his whole body weight on one point, the connector must hurt so much right now. I am sure it feels like it gets slowly torn out.

Legato could make a fortune by being a sport instructor. Just make me move! I pay you!

I wanna slap him so badly. Seriously. THANKS TO VASH?! He is running around trying to help them as much as he can!

KNIVES! YOU ARE THE REASON THAT YOUR SISTERS ARE ON THIS PLANET AT ALL! TELL ME AGAIN ABOUT YOUR SIN OF ACCIDENTALLY KILLING THE SISTERS THAT WERE ON THE 802 SHIPS. YOU DID NOT KNOW THAT YOUR FUCKING HAIR TURNS DARK WHEN YOU START TO DECAY! THE FIRST LAST RUN YOU SAW WAS LIKE 2 WEEKS AGO! TELL ME HOW MANY SISTERS YOU HAVE SEEN DIE, AGAIN?! You had 150 years to learn about this! 150 years and you failed to do so. Your sisters and their wellbeing aren’t that important to you, buddy. Don’t use them to give yourself validity. And don’t you dare to use Tesla again!

FUCKING FINALLY! I NEED SOMETHING MORE THAN CAPSLOCK TO MAKE MY RAGE ABOUT KNIVES’ DENIAL KNOWN!

Oh, tsundere Legato time. And Knives does not stop him. Does Knives truly not understand that Legato is starting to act not only on his own but against Knives’ stated interests?

At first I thought this was a moment of peace for Wolfwood that boils down to him finding his determination. But in hindsight, this is him knowing he is starting to get crushed between the rock and the hard place. He is waiting to act, he cannot act, even though most gruesome things are happening all around him and he is part of it. (Insert the: "Kitten, I'll be honest. Daddy is about to kill himself"-meme)

Who else thought about Carl? “That’s what forgiveness sounds like. Screaming and then silence.” Knives, that kills people!

*snorts* Yeah, because you have had such a presence in the story til now. Tell me again, how lawful the world is. I'll wait. Yeah, at the bar of that nice granny with the guy that was nearly lynched with his truly innocent bestie.

I forgot about that. I forgot that Wolfwood is used to kill in the cities. I made a pained squeaky noise when I saw them. Someone shut Chapel up and hug Wolfwood!

Wolfwood’s past pulls him down. His training and way of life goes so strongly against his morals. And Chapel knows exactly how to use it to hurt Wolfwood.

But Wolfwood has already changed so much during the story. From the start, while he put his own life first, he never killed with any animosity, the didn't torture people. By following Vash’ (pretty selfdestructive) ruling, he found a way of going forward that fits his morals so much more. He cares about life and especially the lives of others. His responsibilities still stand, that’s why he is still able to kill, but this Wolfwood here is very far from the pupil Chapel had true power over.

Can someone shut this bitch up, please?

Chapel is a manipulator. He knows his “pupils” and knows how to put them down. He doesn’t plan to take Wolfwood in again. He just wants to hurt him. He wants revenge for Wolfwood acting out, for Wolfwood deserting the Eye of Michael's teachings. But this is a struggle for power over Wolfwood, too. Livio is a much better pupil in his eyes, since Chapel seemingly erased his character and wants successfully.

The antithesis of the blank ticket. Your past binds you down. You cannot start anew. Just give in and accept your given place in the world. It is Wolfwood's way of thinking, too. No wonder he hurts so much. Chapel’s teachings dug deep into him.

Wolfwood realises how deeply Chapel has dug his claws into Livio. That’s why he tries to force Chapel to make Livio stop and not Livio himself. But he has no power in this situation here. Chapel has the power since he has power over Livio. And, damn, he uses it to hurt Wolfwood in revenge. Wolfwood is desperately looking for a way out, but he cannot find one.

His sisters want him to stop, too. Not that he listens.

Vash is still hateful of himself for attacking Rem. He never stopped. Even working through his anger at Rem... The anger was replaced with selfhatred and ever since then he has been spiraling.

But the thought about people not changing… They talk about humanity, but isn’t it about Knives, too? I highly doubt that Knives can change. Everyone is able to, but not everyone chooses to do so. Knives cannot reflect upon what he has done, because then he himself and humanity wouldn’t be that different. Both twins are so good in seeing things just as black and white. Damn all of humanity or all of humanity is good, instead of what it truly is, grey.

OF COURSE HE SAID TESLA! This is so much not about Tesla. Poor girl is just a pawn for Knives, like everyone else. He was such a sensitive kid and now he cannot even realise his own true feelings, much less recognise feelings in other people. He is living a delusion.

It makes Knives an interesting villain, though. I like villains that you can somewhat empathise with. Every last one of us can end like him (without the outright genocide). He is a warning and he is not redeemable, however much I feel for him.

Ugh, yes, Vash is completely right.

But look at you, Vash. You are a bottle under so much pressure, too. You drinking away your pain does not erase it. You know the source, but you never started to deal with it at all. Why does the stuff you preach never reach you yourself?

But Knives turns away from Vash, again and again. Knives cannot open himself up to Vash. Anger and hate are feelings that are so much better than the vulnerable hurt and fear. Seriously, Vash, how long til it is enough?

“Then we will be even.” No, not really. The people who have hurt Knives are gone. There is no balance to be redone. Knives’ “even” means that the scales are completely destroyed and only he remains. Knives pumps out new victims of violence daily, the only words that are spoken are “Hate creates more hate, violence creates more violence.” Knives has been gone up in his crusade since the Great Fall. Everything after that was him actively searching for and creating more and more reasons to justify him causing the Great Fall and more importantly, killing Rem.

02: Silent Ruin

I shall save our imprisoned sisters! By imprisoning them in MY BODY! A much better idea! Knives does not care about them. Everyone has to agree with him. There is no group, there is no peace, there is only Knives. And Knives can only stop if only Knives remains. If he successfully erases humanity, then he will turn on his sisters, he will turn (more) on Vash.

I have to agree with one thing from Chapel. He taught Wolfwood really better than to let someone get away… Someone like Chapel… Just saying.

Wolfwood tries his best to protect his home. It is never enough, the odds are so against him. How must that feel? That you give your all, you put yourself between something that evil and children and it is not enough. Remembering Wolfwood’s second nightmare, he killed Chapel to protect the orphanage from Chapel. Maybe Wolfwood found out about the continued usage by Chapel just then.

“So many uses for the good-natured.” I don’t think Wolfwood gets that Chapel means him, too. Wolfwood has been used and abused by him. He is a victim. And he cannot see it. He only sees the things he has done, not that he literally had no choice there. And he lets all the sins fall back to him, making him completely monstrous in his own eyes.

Chapel is so sure that his grip on Livio is complete and I so hope that Wolfwood can prove him wrong.

There is something to be said about the arm sticking up into the air like the ship from the Great Fall. Even the angle is the same. This is something like the Second Fall.

Just a reminder that Wolfwood is on the ship, unable to do anything to stop this, waiting and hoping for something to happen so he can act. And it is eating him alive. He is isolated and completely alone. If he rebels now, his life would be not only forfeited, but he would also be unable to help when… if… the time comes. He has to kill in Knives’ name while he waits all his morals and pain aside. The deaths would happen anyway. But that doesn’t change Wolfwood from hating himself for doing so. Vash is at least actively fighting Legato, Wolfwood suffers a different kind of torture. And I am not gonna lie, I'd prefer to be in Vash' position instead of Wolfwood's.

So, like after the Great Fall. How many people died after the initial crash due to hunger, infighting and exposure? Has the population since then grown? Or is it still stagnating?

INSURANCE WOMEN! AHHHHHHHH!

03: Counterattack!!!

I just love Meryl and Milly as intelligence, checking out the situation in the different cities and bringing the info to the people who are able to do something.

I love the proactiveness, I love their care, I love their bravery.

Meryl looks so different. She has lost her spunk, her spark. She looks so much more downtrodden and depressed. Softer and hurt, really.

I love our brat Brad. Like Meryl and Milly, he is a good person who tries to help the way he can. He couldn’t go out, til now, because his expertise was needed, but he is ready to go at the frontlines.

It looks like none of them know what happened to Vash. The last people of the group who have seen him are Meryl and Milly and that was when he was driven out of the city.

FINALLY SHE TELLS SOMEONE!

And I didn’t get that Meryl knows everything… She saw more than Hoppered, but it looked like everything since Vash was adulty, but maybe Nightow retconned that one.

I have complicated feelings about this. Meryl wanted to get to know Vash and know of his enigmatic past. But narratively, Vash and she didn’t really do anything to get there. It was an accident. Vash didn’t need to change and open up to share this. And… that is an ongoing flaw of him, a flaw that has already cost him so much and we don’t see it changing. Vash not only gets her total empathy without opening up, he now gets it from all of Home (or at least the command). That said, I like that we see it affecting Meryl. She is traumatised, rightfully so. She is working through it either completely alone or only with Milly. For all the empathy Vash deserves for his life, he doesn’t really earn it by connecting to others. Others connect in his stead for him. While Meryl suffers for it alone, Vash profits from it. This is an ongoing pattern, not only with Meryl. With Wolfwood, too. How often did Wolfwood persist and run after Vash to keep on talking, while Vash avoided? And it irks me more and more, the further the volumes go. Vash is a self made martyr, but it is the people that care about him that pay most of the price. Vash needs an Oh-Moment, but I don’t trust that even that would be enough.

Oh. Vash fought Knives before! Until now it looked like July was his first “real” fight with Knives, but he had altercations before. I would love to know more about those, because from what we saw in July and Jeneora Rock, Vash had so much trouble confronting Knives. Vash’ conflict avoidance, especially with Knives, is such a big part of him. He actively goes against Wolfwood’s advice to check out the erased towns more than once. We know that Vash has a real inner conflict going on about Knives, that he says he wants to kill him but his actions say otherwise. Did no one zoom in on that in the past? Or wasn’t it there then?

Young Luida!

Is he fighting on his own? Maybe, maybe not. But I love that the humans are now empowered enough to go and help Vash and don’t leave it to him. It doesn’t look like they wanted to in the past, either, but Vash left them no choice. Now Vash needs them, even if they don’t know how much.

No, Luida! Don’t join the selfhate club! What counts is your actions and not your thoughts. And you are the least of a coward. You lead a fucking company. Same for you, Meryl! You stood by Vash’ side. Yes, you didn’t completely understand the danger you were in, but may I remind you of Keele? Please don’t let yourself get pulled down by those martyrs. You do enough and are strong enough.

And next to everyone is like that. People don’t want conflict, they don’t want to risk being hurt or worse killed. They don’t want their loved ones to die. So if someone else is able to bear all the responsibility and pain, they feel relief. But that often leads to people like Vash and even more like Wolfwood. People who have to bear the gross alone. But what counts is action. And Meryl is going out into a warzone, trying to help and get info, Luida is leading a resistance.

Being a leader is such a difficult position. On the one hand you are safe from the frontlines, but everyone's life is on your shoulders. Your mistakes add up and your victories are easily forgotten. It is so easy to see leaders as highpaid CEOs that cash in while the workers suffer. Luida is not one of those and I hope she does not stick to that fallacy.

The plants share their memory. Vash has been shown to connect to his sisters via his mind, why wouldn’t his sisters be unable to do it, too? And this is a sign, this is a cry for Knives to stop. His sisters do not want this. They could show him hurtful things, but instead they show him humans appreciating them. What is important for me in that scene is that it is not only a child asking questions, it is a mother teaching the child ageappropriately about the plants, showing her own gratitude to the plant in question and it then gets reflected in the husband, too. The plants care for humans, they want to help. (Little siderant about angels. Angels are so much like machines. They exist for their godgiven purpose and are satisfied with this. They do not wish for more. Dependent plants seem more and more like angels, especially with Nightow saying they see humanity as their god. Independent plants, like humans, have no ingrained purpose and maybe part of the twin’s struggle comes from this. They don’t know their purpose, but they feel like they need one. Nice reflection of the modern human.)

Knives is visibly upset by his sister’s memory. Of course, since it goes against what he preaches. It shakes his resolve. Vash seems shaken, too. I cannot really put his expression there. Well, he is most likely in pain and enduring Legato. But beyond that… who knows.

I am not sure how to interpret these panels. Especially with it ending on Wolfwood smoking, what we have seen before is him enduring and waiting, too. Could it be that the dream of the plants is on par with Vash and Wolfwood, with them enduring and waiting for their time to act to give balance back to humanity and plants? Or is it a foreshadowing that those two will help the plants achieve this balance?

COUNTERATTACK! THE TIME OF WAITING IS OVER! Yes, Knives… you are so completely rational, standing at the front of your battleship, laughing maniacally.

Plant memories. Good ones. Even the researcher with the cross that got halved by Knives is part of it. His sisters see the good in humans, how they try and they appreciate it. Moreso, they actively use these memories on Knives to stop him, to make him listen.

Even here. Brad doesn’t want to attack the innocent plants. But Knives uses them as shield. Brad has to do this to get through to Knives, to have any hope of success. And again, a struggle that is caused by Knives himself that in the end hurts mainly his sisters, while he is unaffected.

And this is what the regular panels of Wolfwood smoking boiled down to. He waited for a time to act.

It looks creepy and quiet, like a predator inching in on his prey, looming over it in a real display of power difference. An omen of death and judgement. But Wolfwood also looks like a broken man, a dead man walking at the same time. Like I said, Wolfwood has been through his own torture for seven months and I truly believe that it has left massive scars in him.

#trigun bookclub #trigunbookclub #Trimax 8.1 #god I hate chapel so much #the more the volumes go on the more I feel for Wolfwood #give this guy a rest #and Meryl #the first time reading I didn't like her #now I wanna protecc

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boredmezzosoprano · 2 months

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In defence of Catherine Earnshaw

I just wanted to take this time to talk about the heroine of my all time favourite book Wuthering Heights. She is often described as "selfish" by a lot of readers and yes this is true, but there are reasons for why she acts the way she does. It bothers me how much quicker people are to defend Heathcliff than her when if you ask me, Heathcliff has done worse things than her i.e manipulating and abusing Isabella Linton, abusing his own sickly son, abusing Hareton and robbing him of his inheritance, manipulating Catherine Linton into marrying his son and then robbing her of her inheritance and kidnapping her so she couldn’t be with her dying father and then there’s the little matter of him being the last person to see Hindley before he mysteriously dies (admittedly Hindley was an a$$hole, but still). Don’t think I’m unsympathetic to Heathcliff’s own pain and suffering - I am, it’s just that you cannot judge Cathy harshly while whitewashing Heathcliff’s character🤷🏼‍♀️ Anyway the points I want people to keep in mind are thus:

Like Heathcliff, nobody ever really raised Cathy as her parents both died when she was a child (and even then she wasn’t the favourite of either of them) and Hindley and Nelly couldn’t have been less bothered. Even though the Linton's tried to tame her spirit and mould her into "a lady" it makes sense that her default mode will always be that of a feral child.

People often accuse her of being a gold digger and yes she did plan on marrying Edgar for his money in the hopes of using that money to get Heathcliff out from under Hindley's tyranny, it should be remembered that Cathy really did love Edgar too just not as much as Heathcliff. Also how was she to know that Heathcliff was able to make his own fortune? Given that he never reveals how he made his money and nobody ever finds out how could she have known. It’s speculated that he became a highwayman i.e a glorified thief, most people would choose to avoid living such a precarious lifestyle if given the choice and its hard to blame for not wanting to live a vagabond existence, even Heathcliff admits that he "struggled". As a woman living in the 1700s the only honourable way she could make any kind of life for herself was by getting married!

When she marries Edgar she had no idea where Heathcliff was and when or if he was ever coming back and her choices were limited to marrying into a family who treat you well or stay in your own chaotic and miserable household with your violent drunk if a brother and a maid who’s made it clear she hates you and does not see you as worth her time. So yeah…

Catherine seems to suffer from some sort of disease that’s only ever described as "brain fever". Some readers have described it as encephalitis and others have called it epilepsy. In any case anytime she’s aggravated or upset in anyway she becomes violently ill and this ultimately kills her. With that in mind it becomes understandable that she would actively avoid anything that would cause her any distress as it could (and did) kill her!

There were moments in the book where Cathy with her mood swings came across to me as being bipolar or at least having some kind of personality disorder. Nelly describes her as "having seasons of gloom" during her marriage and she self harms a couple of times in the book. She also threatens to kill herself if it would get a reaction! She seems to place her own sense of value on the men in her life which shows a fundamental lack of self esteem. As someone with BPD these things all hit home for me very deeply, but unlike Cathy I have the freedom to back away from situations that trigger me (well most of the time) and access to medications that even my moods.

While it was undeniably harsh of Cathy to humiliate Isabella by revealing her feelings for Heathcliff with both of them in the room but at the same time she wasn’t wrong to try to snap Isabella out of this naive fantasy. Isabella is a character I care about deeply but it’s obvious that she was in way over her head when it came to Heathcliff! Cathy knew better than anyone that he hated Isabella and would only hurt her. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. Poor Isabella does ultimately learn too late that Cathy was right. Even Nelly has to begrudgingly agree with Cathy on this one.

Speaking of Nelly, it should be remembered that everything we learn about Cathy as well as many other characters, we learn only from Nelly who it is clear is quite biased against the characters whose story she is telling. Because she can’t relate to the intense emotions of the other characters she tends to assume that it must be because there’s something wrong with them. It’s entirely possible that Nelly made Cathy out to be far worse than she actually was. It has to be said that Nelly is a character that I tend to back and forth on…

Anyway that’s my take on Catherine Earnshaw. If you disagree that’s fine but please no rude comments cuz we’re all adults and we can agree to disagree😉

#wuthering heights #catherine earnshaw #Cathy and Heathcliff #cathycliff #character study #emily bronte

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vvatchword · 3 months

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In Which I Get Zooted (and Talk about Paradise Lost for some reason)

Part 2 (View Reblogs for Flavor) ->

I am reading Paradise Lost again. Jesus christ it is so good. The first time I read it I had to get used to Ye Olde Englifh Poetic Conventionf and didn’t do very well. Fortunately, I read lots of early modern English in the distant past—it’s like a language I’ve mostly forgotten. That means that repeated exposure has reopened the prose to me. Eventually, I’m going to have to pick up a book about John Milton himself, because there are definitely some alien theological and historical points whizzing right over my head.

I don’t know what it is about Paradise Lost. Reading Dante was painful outside the Hell part… Bunyan’s Pilgrim’s Progress makes me want to kick him in the pants. or die (Dante’s cuntiness goes a long way, that said)

But like every time Milton writes a Satan speech you just wanna do a fistpump. Just the most conniving, fascinating character. Every other fucker in the “good” section pales by comparison. Hell—I’ll just say it: all of the devils are beautifully written. They feel like real people. Half of the time, you’re nodding along with them, and there’s a point where you have to kinda look over your shoulder at Milton, like… buddy do you have any idea what you are SAYING.

The way that everyone talks about Paradise Lost, you’d think the whole goddamn text was about Satan. It’s not. Three of the ten books focus on Satan. All the others are about the war in heaven, Adam and Eve, or the Fall. Look here: if all we had were the books about Adam and Eve and God’s tried-and-true, this would still be great literature, but it’s greater because the stilted, proper characters clash against what are supposed to be our villains. We are literally being forced to ask the question: WHY do the devil and his minions sound like the people we’d rather know? If Milton’s God were real, I’d be straight-up scared of him, okay. I’d be in the “shit shit shit I hope he doesn’t see or think of me ever” camp.

Fun fact about Paradise Lost: people got mad at it for presenting the devil so well. They assumed that Milton was pro-devil somehow. This is because people have been bad readers since the beginning of time.

Milton is not pro-devil. He’s fallen into the problem that everyone has with writing God, which is: we have to explain why life, an extremely chaotic dumpster fire, is actually according to Divine Plan by a Big Guy Who Loves You! (Really!), but the more you try to explain the Plan the more you have to explain why God isn’t doing X or Y, until finally you have so many asterisks that essentially your religion is *teleports behind you*

So not only can no one read, no one can admit the real problem: how fucking shitty god and the angels are by comparison, and how they are, by all rights, being written correctly.

See, how ELSE could Milton have written God et al, that’s really the question. He does his best, and he’s very, very good at it. Look, I’ve read a LOT of religious texts over my life—and across the board, God is represented this way. CS Lewis wrote some wildly enjoyable fiction, but every time Jesus or God has to show up without the handy-dandy Aslan mask, everything stutters to a halt.

There are even points in the story where Milton has to tell you why what a devil is suggesting is sinful. For example, here’s the devil Belial giving his suggestions for how to deal with God now that all the devils are in Hell. So far, he has suggested not acting at all: God’s power is not only great in strength, it is great in cunning. He cannot be tricked; he cannot be beaten. So why not just wait it out? Don’t poke the tiger. Maybe the tiger will show mercy someday, if the devils don’t get used to the pain eventually:

“This horror will grow mild, this darkness light, Besides what hope the never-ending flight Of future days may bring, what chance, what change Worth waiting, since our present lot appears For happy though but ill, for ill not worst, If we procure not to ourselves more woe.”

Uniquely among the other devils—Moloch, Mammon, Beelzebub, and Satan all speak in this Book—Belial gets an addendum.

Thus Belial with words cloth’d in reason’s garb Counsel’d ignoble ease, and peaceful sloth, Not peace.

I can just imagine Milton reading it out loud to a friend and then that friend saying, “Hey, that Belial guy has the right idea!” and it’s like the tenth time that Milton has read this to someone only for them to look at him like, “Yeah, why not?” so Milton grumpily flops down at his rustic table with a quill and he’s grumbling about how everyone is a fucking idiot since he most clearly counsel’d IGNOBLE ease, and peaceful SLOTH, not PEACE, fuck thee, Thomas, thou slipshod bastard

In sharp contrast to Belial, Moloch—the first speaker—suggested fighting God until he just erased the devils from existence. Which is, you know, a mood.

It’s like the only way that you can represent god in fiction is as a one-dimensional cardboard cutout. The religious are terrified of judgment even while writing him and every time he shows up he’s boring and constipated. Of course we like the devil better: he’s more likely to give us a fair shake. God would fucking crush you like a beetle in slow-motion, ensuring you felt every pang, and he’d talk about how great he was the entire time he did it, and how he loves you, actually. Oh he loves you so much. There went your liver! Juiced. with love

So well are the devils written—so sensible, so motivated, so grounded—that the final devil to speak comes out of left field. Let me set the stage:

So far we had Moloch—future child-eater—suggest eternal war, with the aim of dissolution; Belial, who’s just like, why not chill and let the future bring what it may; and Mammon, who expands on that with “let’s actively seek ways to enjoy ourselves, altering everything around us until we form a world that meets our needs.” All of these devils focus on the pain of Hell, the loss of “bliss” (which I’m assuming is meant to imply both feeling and place: painlessness and Heaven, specifically), and the disgusting idea of returning to God, who they abhor.

Beelzebub brings up the idea of finding Earth, one tiny little planet that God made with a special creature called Man, and fucking around with it.

I had gotten so into the devils’ speeches—I was very zooted—that I had to do a double-take and then run back to re-read them.

“Bub, baby,” Belial should have said, “what the actual fuck are you talking about.”

Perhaps this is only me, but I couldn’t help but think of the vastness of creation, and the absolutely miniscule goal that the devils chose for themselves. The devils fell for nine whole days and nights, and Earth supposedly lies past dangerous voids and environments past understanding. It’s a big step down: go from fucking with the Creator to the Created, and not just any Created: some dumb human babies.

It’s the first break with the devils’ characters, and it doesn’t make a lot of sense.

to be CONTINUED.....

#vvatchword #paradise lost #vv zootin #reading #literature #vv reading

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queer-geordie-nerd · 5 months

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A nuanced and insightful interview with Mira from November 1996, in the middle of filming S4 of Babylon 5 - it touches on her war time experiences in Yugoslavia and the events that drove her from her home, and the similarities between her own life and that of Delenn. Once again, I am bowled over by the incredible integrity and courage she possessed:

STRANGER IN A STRANGE LAND

It's the one subject that pains Mira Furlan to discuss. The one subject that invades her privacy. The one subject that so violates her very soul.

And yet, it's the one subject that can't be avoided.

Nearly five years to the day of this interview, Furlan left her homeland of Yugoslavia, which was about to be engulfed in a bloody and horrific civil war. Ethnic passions restrained by decades of Communist rule had been unleashed by its collapse. Fascistic Nationalists arose to take its place, many of them former Communists. In their lust for power, they tore apart a nation of disparate republics and peoples that had once been a dream of poets, intellectuals and writers.

As one of Yugoslavia's most prestigious actors, Furlan risked her life and fortune to perform in cities on both sides, in Croatia and in Serbia. She hoped that she could be a bridge of unity, a symbol of pacifism, a clarion warning what terrible price their country would pay for unleashing the war their leaders were about to start.

Except for her husband, Goran Gajic, no one supported her.

Her colleagues abandoned her. Nationalist demagogues threatened to have her killed. Anonymous death threats were left on her answering machine.

She could not go silently. Before she left Yugoslavia, Furlan picked up her pen and wrote a farewell letter to her country. The letter was published a few days later in Zagreb (the capital of Croatia) and Belgrade (the capital of Serbia), cities on opposite sides of the coming war. It began:

“I hereby wish to thank my co-citizens who have joined so unreservedly in this small, marginal and apparently not particularly significant campaign against me. Although marginal, it will change and mark my whole life. Which is, of course, totally irrelevant in the context of the death, destruction, devastation and bloodchilling crimes within which our life now goes on.

This is happening, however, to the one and only life I have. It seems that I've been chosen for some reason to be the filthy rag everyone uses to wipe the mud off their shoes. I am far too desperate to embark on a series of public polemics in the papers. I do, however, feel that I owe myself and my city at least a few words. Like at the end of some clumsy, painful love story, when you keep wanting, wrongly, to explain something more, even though you know at the bottom of your heart that words are wasted; there is no one left to hear them. It is over.”

In Yugoslavia, Furlan was a leading actress of film, television and stage. She appeared in over 25 films, and won two Golden Arenas for Best Actress, their equivalent of the Oscar. Among her acclaimed theatrical roles were Ophelia in Hamlet, Celimene in The Misanthrope, and the title role in Euripides' Helen.

Under socialist rule, the arts were state-funded. "Your star status didn't mean that you were making money. But there were other advantages. Money was not the main obsession. The absence of money gave you a certain degree of creative freedom. We had all the time in the world. Movies were shot forever. Theatre plays were rehearsed forever. I personally was bored with that; things were not quick enough for me. But you had the luxury of having time to explore, to enjoy the creative process. These were the few advantages of living in socialism."

The notion of "freedom" in the arts in a socialist country may come as a surprise to Americans raised on Cold War propaganda asserting the opposite. "With my generation, the Communists were dying off," Furlan said. "Their grip on the artists' community was not as strong as after the war (World War II), when you could be in prison for just saying the wrong sentence. So we didn't feel it. I grew up totally despising them - the so-called them - and not having anything to do with them. And they left me alone. So there was relative freedom. Theatre was free because no one cared, basically. It was so marginal to the cause of the regime that people were left to do what they wanted. Film was much more dangerous, thus much more controlled."

That started to change when the Nationalists came to power. "The Yugoslav Communists didn't have the force that these new Nationalists now have, because these new leaders feel that the world is starting from them. They're creating new realities, new history, new language, new values. There's always this passion in the beginning; as a citizen, you don't want to be touched by that passion, because it can cost you your life."

Life in the former Yugoslavia was a political lifestyle largely unknown to Americans. "It was a double life. People had their own private thoughts. Publicly, they behaved as was prescribed; the majority were members of the Communist Party. Opportunism ruled. I think all Eastern Europeans have that built in — no confidence in any government, in any politicians. But, a contradiction! When Communism collapsed, Nationalism was born out of the old Communism. Trained in opportunism, people easily converted from Communism to Nationalism. That's the irony of it. Nothing has changed. The same people, the same names. The same faces. They just converted, switched just like that. That's what's so ugly in that whole situation. You just watch it and cannot believe that people don't remember what they were saying just two months ago. They didn't learn anything. They actually jumped into the first trap, completely surrendering to those new Nationalist leaders that brought them only pain lsss and devastation."

“I have no other way of thinking. I cannot accept war as the only solution, I cannot force myself to hate, I cannot believe that weapons, killing, revenge, hatred, that such an accumulation of evil will ever solve anything. Each individual who personally accepts the war is in fact an accessory to the crime; must he not then take a part of the guilt for the war, a part of the responsibility?”

"Historically, there were all kinds of frustrations on all sides, among all the peoples of the former Yugoslavia. There was a general feeling that each of these peoples who lived together in the former Yugoslavia had been somehow abused by the others. And there was a lot of truth in that. Nationalism is always partly grounded in truth. The Nationalists' politics manipulated the existing anger and frustration of the people and put their emphasis on that, and that's how the war started. The new Nationalists, who were for the most part converted Communists, took all the media. Journalists, I think, and media in general, bear an incredible responsibility for what happened."

The Babylon 5 episode being filmed during this interview, "The Illusion of Truth," has some eerie parallels. An ISN news crew films a documentary on B5, only to use the footage in a propaganda film for President Clark's fascist regime. It's an allegory for how America was consumed by Senator Joe McCarthy's witch hunts in the 1950s. "Sometimes I'm so appalled by what Joe (Straczynski) knows. I happened to experience a witch hunt — as an object! — but it's nothing new. Old stuff."

Furlan drew the attention of the Nationalists after she travelled from her home in Zagreb, Croatia to Belgrade, Serbia to perform at the annual BITEF Festival. BITEF was an international theatre event attended by actors from across Europe. She believed that her participation was a statement that her profession should not be drawn into supporting any political or national ideas. She felt it was her responsibility to establish bridges and ties, "for the sake of something that would outlive this war and this hatred which is so foreign to me," she wrote at the time. But the political leaders in Croatia were furious with her — and targeted her as an example of what would happen to others who chose the same path. Fearful for their careers, if not for their lives, and perhaps even sympathetic of the Nationalist cause, none of her colleagues spoke up to defend her.

“I think, I know and I feel that it is my duty, the duty of our profession, to build bridges. To never give up on cooperation and community. Not that national community. The Professional community. The human community. And even when things are at their very worst, as they are now, we must insist to our last breath on building and sustaining a bond between people. This is how we pledge to the future. And one day it will come . . .

I was willing and I would still be willing to undertake all and any efforts, if the hatred hadn't suddenly overwhelmed me with its horrendous ferocity, hatred welling from the city I was born in. I am appalled by the force and magnitude of that hatred, by its perfect unanimity, by the fact that there was absolutely nobody who could see my gesture as my defense of the integrity of the profession, as my attempt to defend at least one excellent theatre performance.”

"People's behavior is mainly built on fear. People think, 'Let them destroy her but just leave us alone.' When the media went crazy in Yugoslavia, I was a good example. I was a perfect target. I was a totally unprotected woman. Woman, that's very important. The war propaganda was constantly in search of 'internal enemies' just to homogenize the people, and to put fear in their heads so they could manipulate them. It's interesting that the majority of the 'internal enemies' were women. It's a very misogynist culture. It's a very misogynist world. I happen to be partly Jewish, and that came into the picture nicely. And I was never very obedient in my life and career. I left projects that I didn't really believe in. I made some unexpected choices in my work and in my life. All of that got wrapped up - Liberal. Feminist. Whore. Jew. Everything. The media combined it into this juicy bundle and served it to the people, who devoured it."

Abandoned by her friends and colleagues, and living with the threat of assassination, Furlan and her husband left Yugoslavia on November 15, 1991 for New York. She left behind the open letter explaining her departure.

“I am sending this letter into a void, into darkness, without an inkling of who will read it and how, or in how many different ways it will be misused or abused. Chances are it will serve as food for the eternally hungry propaganda beast. Perhaps someone with a pure heart will read it after all.

I will be grateful to that someone.”

American life and culture were a difficult adjustment, both in her profession and her personal life. Furlan has found the acting profession, indeed the entire entertainment industry, radically different from what she knew. Unlike in Yugoslavia, she found that diverse acting talents in the United States were rarely appreciated, much less rewarded.

"It's a European tradition among actors. Serious actors build their career in the theatre," Furlan said. "It's a completely different thing in America. The theatre is so marginal. The theatre doesn't matter because it's not mass culture. It's not the money-making machine. So yeah, I've learned that. We had a crash course in capitalism in the toughest spot. Hollywood is probably the toughest spot on Earth that way, the most cruel. It's a struggle, it's a fight. It's all about publicity and agents and names. That's what I really hate about being an actor here. I hated many things about acting in Yugoslavia. I was frustrated, and felt hopeless as an actor in socialism. I hated many things there, but I really miss concentrating on my work, which should be enough ideally, and it's not. Here, it's just a tiny part of everything else. Everything else is much more important, and you have to do so much of it yourself because no one else cares. Doing stuff that takes away your energy and your concentration and your precious time. These telephone conversations with people who have no interest in you, who don't have interest in anything but quick and easy money."

Babylon 5 is Furlan's first major television role in the United States; in fact it was one of her first auditions. It was also her introduction to science fiction. "I'm completely new to this whole thing. I knew the basics of science fiction literature — Bradbury, Clarke, just general culture — but there wasn't anything remotely similar to this. I was shocked when I went to my first convention."

The similarities between Furlan's life and Delenn's travails are striking. But it seems that it's no more than an amazing coincidence. According to Furlan, Straczynski didn't even know about her personal history when she was hired to play Delenn. "He surprises me so many times. And sometimes I feel as if he's written something directly for me. But he didn't know anything about me. Nothing. When the series started, we talked and he found out."

Furlan was an only child, raised among adults in a family of university professors. What was it that led her into acting? "It was a game! I always wanted to study languages. I studied English and French when I finished high school. I did them together, languages and acting. I went to the Academy for Film, Theatre and TV, and the University. But it was the other part of me, the part that wants to play, that finally won over the serious part, the one who sits at home and reads and learns and does research. It started as a game, it started as 'Let's play.'

"When I started at the Academy, they always used me for comedy, for light, playful stuff. Then I did a play in which something clicked in me. It was an English play in a famous little avant garde theatre, with only me and another actor. It was a very heavy play about marriage, marriage in three stages, which ends with this woman committing suicide on stage. I was so much younger than the part I played, but it completely opened this world of reality in acting. It started a journey inward for me. Once you experience that, once you open up in that way - people talk about getting in touch with your emotions, that's what you do in acting. That's your main job. That's your profession.

"That's why I miss theatre. That's the beauty of doing theatre. You are in touch with the greatest writers of world literature. Their thoughts, their characters. That's unbeatable. That's a pleasure in itself, no matter in what way it forwards your so-called career. I miss film. I miss having time to try things to discover subtleties, layers, little things. The comforting thing on Babylon 5 is Joe's writing, which sometimes touches the depth of the classic literature."

If Straczynski were to ask her to write a B5 episode, what story would she tell?" I have an image for some reason of the set for The Wizard of Oz. I'm in the middle, kind of a Dorothy figure. On one side is G'Kar, and on the other side is Londo, and we walk towards some incredible adventure. Having them on each side of me would make me feel strong and protected, and I would dare to go anywhere!" She suggests that her cat could play Toto, and we agree that cats are very Minbari.

Babylon 5 is fiction. But much of that fiction is rooted in reality, the reality of our 20th Century. It's easy to turn off the TV each week at the end of the hour, put away the popcorn bowl and say, "Aw, that couldn't happen here." But it has. It does. And it will.

Delenn is a fictional character, but Mira Furlan is not. It's easy for a fictional character to risk her life for a cause. For a living human being with friends, family, and a successful career, that decision is much more difficult. Fiction often poses for its characters the question, "Will you sacrifice all for what you believe?" In the fictional world of Babylon 5, that question is, "Who are you?" Reality rarely presents any of us with that challenge. Few of us will ever know what our answer would be.

All Mira Furlan ever wanted was to experience the pure joy of acting, the inward exploration of her soul, and to share that exploration with her audience. But history forced her to explore down unseen paths, paths of darkness, the same paths that took countless lives in her homeland. History demanded, "Who are you?"

Mira answered, and suffered for it. She and Goran have started a new life in America, strangers in a strange land. Their experience reminds us that life may one day demand a test of our integrity. If it does, let us hope that we are equal to their courage.

#mira furlan #babylon 5 #delenn #incredible woman #may her memory be a blessing

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