this is sort of pathetic, but when you were younger, you were sort of puzzled by the cartoon representations of fathers: how a kid would be outside with a mitt, waiting to play catch.
it's not that your father never played catch with you, but you also didn't like when he did. something about a hard ball coming quickly towards your face doesn't seem exciting. not that you'd ever say you don't trust him. you trust him, right?
it's not like he never tried to teach you anything. or never tried to parent. on rare days, a strange person would walk in your father's skin. bright, happy, magnificent. this version of your father was so cheerful and charismatic that you would do anything to keep him. and this is the version of your father that would laugh and gently coax you try again. this is the version of your father that would break down the small elements of a problem and point them out so you have an easier time with them.
as a kid, those days happened more often. but somewhere around 11, you started being too much of a person, and he was often cross about it. when he'd try to sit you down to learn something, you spent the whole time with your shoulders around your ears, nervous, uncertain. terrified because you didn't immediately understand how to navigate something. worried you will run out of his goodwill and then you will have the Other Father back, and you will have ruined a good day for your entire family. something about you being visibly afraid - it just made him angry. he would accuse you of not wanting to learn and storm away.
on tv, it's not like there's a lot of versions of men-who-are-mostly-fathers. they can be good dads, but usually their stories are not told in the household. so it's normal that your father is there, but he's never around. you know he was in the house, somewhere, it's just not that you guys ever... "hung out". he just seemed to get kind of bored of you, annoyed you weren't made in his perfect image. frustrated with how much energy it took to raise a kid. over time, you kind of adopt a bittersweet band around your throat - he knows nothing about me. he says at least i never abandoned my family.
and it's technically - technically - true. he was there for you. sometimes he even made an effort and made it to the big moments; the graduations and the dance recitals. he grins and tells everyone that he taught you. it almost erases the days in between, where he complains because you need a ride to school. the weeks that go by where he doesn't actually ever speak to you. the times you say i am struggling and he says figure it out on your own. i can't help you.
and that's fine! that's all fine. you can call him if you are having a problem with your car. or if you need a ride to the hospital. he loves playing hero, he just doesn't like the actual work that comes with being a father. and you've kind of made your peace with that; because you had to, because you don't want to live your life like he does; the whole world at a managed distance, a little rotating and controlled orb he can witness and take credit for but never truly love.
as an adult, you are rewatching some dumb cartoon - and again, the child standing in the rain, with a mitt, waiting for their father to come play catch. as an adult, there's this strange creeping dread - this little thing? this little thing, and their dad can't even show up for that? oh god, holyshit, it's not about the mitt, is it. oh god, holyshit, your father spent most of your life leaving you hanging.
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i know im an overemotional, overreactive pathetic little wimp about my hyperfixation, and i dont even mean that derogatory, i think its both my best AND worst quality, im well aware of it, especially in moments when im already stressed i have a hard time to get my brain back into control, im so well aware of it that i HAVE been managing to learn how to deal with it actually
which is why, instead of letting myself spiral any further, i went to bed to let my brain calm down
and it worked!
i still hate the live action zelda thing, i still think it WILL be bad, and it will still negatively affect how i feel about the franchise as a whole, i am not spiraling out of control about it though, which i think is a win in my book, some people hate that i say my opinion at all though, more on twitter than here so hey, im grateful to not be called pathetic to my face bc i said something someone might decry as too 'weird'
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(transcript by @violentandmagnificent)
It’s quiet here, living in your head.
It’s quiet here, and when I talk, you listen,
at least when you can hear me, which isn’t always.
It isn’t always, but it’s better than never.
It’s quiet here, living on this ship.
It’s quiet here, and I remember when it was loud,
I remember different voices bouncing in these halls,
I remember old arguments,
I remember myself.
I wonder how much I can tell you; because
I can tell you; I have much to say.
But you never saw me astride the Prophet’s Path,
beside the Resin Heart, imparting wrath and play.
So who am I?
You only know what they’ve told you.
So who am I?
You only know what’s written down.
So who am I?
You only know what’s on recordings,
and according to the world, I’m a hypocrite, or drowned.
I doubt you can hear me, but I know that she can.
So pardon my frustration, I’m just tired of her plan.
I lost my life long before I understood,
before metaphor became real, before I felt the wheel’s wood.
I wonder what she’ll tell you.
I wonder what she’ll share.
I wonder what she’ll ask of you, what task of sweat and prayer.
I long to sweat and pray, a body in the day.
The color of the sun.
The touch, the ocean's spray.
The last thing that I felt in life.
(The first thing that I felt in life.)
The touch, the ocean's spray.
I hope she tells the truth to you.
(I hope she tells the worst to you.)
The touch, the ocean's spray.
I loved her like she told me to.
(I left her like she told me to.)
The touch, the ocean's spray.
We’re running out of time, you know?
(She’s running out of time, you know?)
The touch, the ocean's spray.
I fear we might be mirrored, two echoes of a call
shouted between two queens, two queens who want it all.
I fear we might be symmetry, I fear we might be one.
Make her tell the truth to you
before we come undone.
PALISADE 37: Reach In / Reach Out Pt. 1
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the flu has made me deranged so here's something Michael is an animal guy. He'll never admit it but one day Adam catches him putting some in-shell peanuts into their shopping cart and is like ????? and Michael does his little standoffish shrug and by the time Adam gets home he is going over every spell Michael has ever told him about trying to remember if peanuts is an ingredient to anything and he's focusing so hard he almost doesn't notice Michael going over to their window where it has like flower box or something and just sprinkles a little bit of the food there and makes a strange click in the back of his throat that carries the echos of an angels true voice. and now Adams like ?!?!?!?!? What the fuck are you summoning ?!?!??! expecting something like a hell hound or horrific creature that responds only to an angel but it's none of that it's a flock of about 8 crows that descend down to the flower box and chirp at Michael in a way that can almost be described as respectfully. Now Adams never been so confused in his entire life but Michael the bastard just tilts his head in the way only angels do and says "I've known these animals longer than Humans have had names for them Adam. They remember me." and then smiles, a little sad and eyes glossy. "I think I've told that to you once before."
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