regulus black, unappreciated bamf extraordinaire
Rosie here. I have a bachelors degree in English. Plus I'm a certified teacher. This blog is an eclectic mess of thoughts and fandom.
some muggleborn like “i want to be an astronaut when i grow up!”
wizard kids like “wtf is an astronaut”
"oh you know…the people who go to the moon"
james and sirius made out so many times though
(Continued) because she ALWAYS wanted to skype. I would say okay we can skype while I do my homework. So I’d start doing my work and she would complain that I was ignoring her and we would talk about bugger all, which meant I couldn’t focus on my work. She acted strange after my whole family saved to get me a new laptop for the Christmas we were together over. She told me her family wasn’t having Christmas so I spent £60 getting each of them a personalised gift and shipping it all, (continued)
(Continued) and shipping it all only for her to tell me after Christmas Day that they did actually have a full Christmas. I had sent her my 1 year old iPod touch so we could skype and FaceTime on there because it was my dad’s side that got the computer and my mums side was getting me a new phone (divorced). Was what I experienced abuse?
That definitely sounds like some emotional abuse, but I’m not an expert on these things. If you feel like you were manipulated and mistreated, then you have a right to feel upset by these things. If its truly bothering you, it wouldn’t hurt to talk to an actual psychological professional for help.
I’m sorry. I’ve been super busy with my writing workshop. Let me see if I can find them.
I before E
except when you run a feisty heist on a weird beige foreign neighbour
fuck the english language
Space Coffee Sucks: A memoir
My name is Cat Martinson, and you know what the worst part about living in space is? The coffee is awful. I don’t know why that is- the filtered water, the recycled air, or just some penny pinching decisions made in catering that saddled us with lack luster coffee in the first place, but the stuff is near undrinkable, like swamp water or something. It makes me yearn for plain old Earth gas station muck, you know, with the powdered creamer? I can’t even remember what Starbucks tasted like anymore. How sad, I know. All my fond memories of mocha cookie crumble cappuccinos have been overridden and lost. My imagination can only extend to mediocre coffee. It’s a tragedy.
There’s other awful things about space; no sunrises, no sunsets. That’s a big one for me. I’m a sunrise person. A fresh cup of coffee as a new day cracks open like a fried egg before you. None of that in space, obviously. The passage of days is marked in sudden, stark flips of the lights. Sterilized brightness by day, instant consuming blackness at night. On or off with nothing in between.
There’s no grass either, of course. All the air, pumped through the Agriculture pods for oxygen, smells like Styrofoam. This is another mystery- why the smell?
No pets either. No fish, no dogs, no lizards, and no cats. Except me, everyone jokes. Cat Martinson, the only cat in space. (It makes me wish my parents had named me Jessica or Riley, something less darn punny.)
Somedays I wonder why I climbed into this bottle rocket to the stars. It’s not like things at home were bad. I’m not running away from anything. 26, single, healthy; I had a good job at the University. I had just paid off my car. My life was ok. The whole country was ok, economy booming, innovations abounding. I had always assumed it would be desperation that drove humanity to interstellar travel. Like in the old movies, it would be war, or sickness, or global warning, something tragic, that would force us to flee our little world. In the end, it was just money. Space colonies would be profitable. Figures. No poetry in that.
Not everyone on the Argo is bad though. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not just here to complain. She’s a state of the art Star Vessel, loaded with all the supplies and tech needed to sail the void and settle on a new planet, to extend humanity’s reach into the universe. Soft beds, healthy food, even a coffee machine (flawed as its product is.) Really, what more can you ask for?
And the silence. That’s a perk. You never heard such silence on Earth. You’d never guess, but atmospheres are noisy. In space, at lights-out, when all the machinery is powered down and the whole ship is cruising on inertia, you find the deepest silence you ever imagined. You can hear the stars glow.
You dream pretty too. Maybe its the artificial gravity moving the blood in your brain all weird, but in space all the dreams have extra colors, extra smells. It’s like stepping through the looking glass, into another life. Once I dreamed I ate a bowl of strawberries, all bright and sharp. That was the whole dream, me and a bowl of strawberries. So red they were flirting with purple, so sweet it made your tongue buzz. I woke up licking my fingers, trying to get the last drops of juice, desperate for it not to end. Then I had to go drink crap coffee.
So there is all is- space in a nutshell. Bad coffee, no cats (except me, haha), deep silence, bright dreams. I don’t know what else to tell you, except maybe why I’m here. Why I left my nice job and nice life behind. I’ll tell you, but its a secret, so don’t spread it around. The others will laugh at me. The reason is this- more than anything in the universe, I want to watch an alien sun break over an alien ocean, and I want to know what no one else has ever seen it happen before. I want to be the first.
Silly, I know, but it keeps a girl going.
Passing the mantels onto different characters (which is a comic superhero staple and has been done with these characters before) allows for writers to explore new facets of the universe and mythos, as well as how that particular mantel is situated within it.
What is the importance of Captain America if the mantel is passed? How will Sam fit into those shoes? In what way will he fulfill the promise of the name differently than Steve? How does being Captain America change Sam as opposed to being Falcon? Does the man change the mantel, or the mantel change the man?
What does it mean to not only have a woman worthy of Mjolnir (which has been done before in the comics) but to have her actually take up the mantel of Thor? To give her a run of her own? To separate this hero image from the mythology it spawned and was spawned from, it begs the question of what does “Worthy” mean? What traits will this woman have that makes her worthy? How will we see that compare and contrast with Thor before her?
It is a good and interesting comic choice because it opens up new possibilities and energizes those fan bases. Just like Robins and Batgirls and Green Lanterns pass the mantel on every now and then to give a fresh look and feel to a familiar mask, this will expand the mantel of these characters, to see how the image of this hero is larger than the face who was behind them.
Anyone with an appreciation of comics from a fundamental narrative perspective and macro-cultural viewpoint has to be excited about this opportunity.
It’s time to try defying gravity-
-Like a shooting star, I can go the distance-
-Kiss me goodbye I’m defying gravity-
-I will search the world, I will face its harms-
-I’m Flying high, I’m defying gravity-
-I don’t care how far, I can go the distance-
-And you won’t bring me down! And you won’t bring me down-
-‘Til I find my hero’s welcome right where I-
-And you won’t bring me…