“Today, every day, and on Valentine's Day, I will visit my wife of 56 years. We are separated by her dementia. I will tell her what's been going on outside, as I spoon-feed her in her care-home hospital bed. She says, "Thank you," when I tell her I love her. We both know she would say more, if only she could. We have had a great life together, ever since the second grade. She is slowly leaving, I know that. But we're a pair until then.” I saw this quote on NYT’s post about small acts of love, and I immediately thought of Thenamesh which made me think of you. I know this might be a sensitive topic so feel free to skip this as a prompt if you’re not comfortable, but I do think you could write something not only respectful but absolutely beautiful about this vein of love for our favorite pair. It reminds me of the Notebook too, if that’s at all inspiring! As always, love everything you give us <3
Far out in the Australian desert, there is a house.
It sits completely apart from everything around it. The land is tended to and the house is inhabited despite the arid nothing surrounding it. There is a water pump and an oven, a garden and space to keep goods.
Everyday, a man leaves the house. He leaves with a basket in hand, and he walks under the unforgiving sun. The trip is made in silence, walking for hours. He says nothing, stops for nothing. His journey takes him even further into the desert, further away from everyone and everything.
He walks until he sees a figure on a hill. The figure is all white from a distance, standing out against the sizzling red sands. It remains completely still. Most would even assume it doesn't breathe.
The man sets down the basket first, lowering himself next to the figure. Her hair picks up in the breeze, but he keeps it away from her face. Her eyes are as white as the dress on her back. When the weather turns bad he comes and stands over her, wraps a blanket around her shoulders.
He would fight off the lightning and thunder if he needed to.
He touches his hand to her cheek, to make sure she has warmth in her skin. He checks her eyes, which have not been green in years now. He checks to make sure she's still breathing, that time has stopped for her in a way that leaves her comfortable. He checks that she is still the Warrior Eternal, Thena, his wife.
The Strongest Eternal settles for the time being. He comes and sits with her everyday. Some days it's hours, some days it's only one. He has their home to attend to. He comes and tells her he misses her, what is happening back on their little patch of land. Tells her of the lizards she loved so much running through his garden.
The man pulls over the basket, pulling out some of the mead he has perfected over the years. There's no harm in letting her taste it, now. He pours it into a delicate sipping vessel and brings it to her lips. It is not as if she can expire of natural causes, out here. He can't either.
But he likes to come and share things with her. He's even started taking up her old practice of drawing, although he is certain she would tell him if they were as terrible as he thinks they are. Still, he brings them and shows them to her, one by one. Many are of her.
He eats something for himself, whatever he has made and brought with him. He still cooks because he enjoys it, even if there is no gentle humming at the table or smiles bathed in kitchen window sunlight. She always told him that her favourite part about his cooking was how happy it made him. She wouldn't want him to stop.
He points out clouds to her, asking what she thinks they look like. She would always just say weapons in the past, so now he makes up things like bunnies and monsters and even their family members, in a way. He asks her how they are sometimes, certain that she must be with them. Because he hopes that whatever happens within those completely white shrouds in her eyes, that she is happy, and safe.
He packs up the basket again, preparing to walk home. He tilts her chin towards him. Sometimes he can imagine her lips lifting ever so faintly. He can imagine the smile his wife always had for him. "Hey."
She does not reply.
"I'm heading home," he whispers sweetly to her, promising the next time he will feel most alive instead of the hours in between. "I'll see you tomorrow, sweetheart."
Her head tilts, leaning into his touch just a little more.
He smiles. Because sometimes she's in there--his Thena. He can see glimpses of her in times like these, when she leans into his touch, when her fingers twitch to hold onto him as much as she is able. There are traces of her still there, in the time he feels most alive.
He has no illusions, nor regrets. An Eternal has only the merciless and indefinite future to look forward to. He said they would take that chance, and they did, for almost a thousand years.
He's happy for these moments, and he can live with the hours in between. He leans forward and presses his lips to her forehead. She stopped blinking long ago but he swears he can see her eyes moving when he does this. "See you soon, Thena."
His hand slips from hers, and he sees that little twitch that makes him smile again. The first time he'd seen it, he had stayed for hours and hours afterwards. Now he knows he will see it again.
He walks back down the hill, looking back at her a few times just because he feels like it. She does not move. He knows she will be there tomorrow, and the next day. And if the earth shatters in half the day after then he will come and get her, and he will carry her to a place that is whole. He will carry her to the ends of the earth and sit with her when that end comes.
He would have nowhere else to be.
The man walks back, hours and hours again. The sun shifts in the sky and he makes it back before nightfall. With the dusk oncoming, he can see the light he always leaves on at the house. He follows the same path he walks everyday. He sets the basket down and walks out to check on the garden and the lizards. He makes sure his apron is hung up and his dishes are clean.
He goes to their room, lies down in their bed, and he thinks about his wife. He falls asleep with his hand on her pillow, thinking of her hair trailing onto his shoulder, of her soft breathing and her laughter. And tomorrow, he will go and see her again.
Far out in the Australian desert, there is a home.
It is the home of two Eternals, a husband and wife. They travelled the world together, even saved it, in a way. It was always known that she would leave before him, and they took that chance. They built an entire life out in the arid desert, out surrounded by the sand, surrounded by the sea.
Their home is built at the ends of the earth, and the wife resides further into the nothingness still. And her husband walks to see her, every single day.
rewatched TG:M all the way through for the first time in a couple months, and god. hans zimmer did not have to put everything he owned into that singular swell. and neither did literally everyone else.
maverick: terrified and alone, realizing his son basically just blew up in front of him
cyclone warlock and hondo: different levels of hopelessness, expediting the mourning process so they can continue with the mission
hangman: physically stops breathing. can’t focus. he has to hyperventilate to get oxygen back in his body. all he’s thinking about is bradley seven summers ago, when they were still okay. and now he’s never going to be able to apologize for everything. it’s his fault. he’s the better pilot, everyone knows it, but bradley had the winning hand, the ace in the hole. so he should’ve tried harder with maverick, not picked as many fights, flown better, flown faster, fought harder, been different, done everything different. you can physically pinpoint something inside himself dying alongside bradley.
Y'all since we already know that Gwen can and probably does look at Peter B being happy now and think how her Peter never got a chance for a better life cuz he died so young because she accidentally killed him now imagine she goes to Earth-42 and finds Miles-42 fatherless and she knows that she almost let that happen to this Miles. I get that we assume Miles will understand that she had her own problems and was forced to be in Spider Society and he would eventually forgive her but I'm saying that I don't think she will forgive herself, ever.
after 'wilson's heart' he really flipped from being the emotional/feelings-driven part of the relationship for me. amber dying really a number on him and it shows in how his relationship with house warps a little. before wilson was the lover and house was the loved one then amber shows up and house gets crazy defensive, then she dies and it makes wilson draw back enough to scare him. like after that he really fishes for wilson's attention all the time and obsesses over him and does everything to keep their relationship stable. literally after season 4 there's a visible switch from him being dismissive of feelings to being like wilson did you know i love you forever. and the dynamic switches and wilson is the loved one and house is the lover. do you get me
I just think Hunter was obsessed with Willow and didn't even know it during the period from any sport in a storm to labyrinth runners. They maybe don't talk as often as they could, they're both busy and have conflicting schedules, so when they do talk, Hunter absorbs everything she says.
After roughly 3 weeks of texting (hexting? I feel like the kids would call it hexting), He knows that her favorite colour is orange, she likes her tea with extra milk and a bit of honey during winter, she likes working out to the noisiest angriest music in her playlist, her dad Gilbert is a construction witch who specialises in pottery, she used to listen to breakup songs and think about her childhood best friend (Hunter doesn't know it's Amity) and she actually has a mild pollen allergy despite being a plant witch and has to take potions for it.
He casually drops all this info piece by piece during their stay in the human realm and willows like. Well I can't not marry him. It'll have to be a winter or fall wedding to account for her allergies </3
hello i’ve written 4k of basketball spec fic and im having so much fun and it’s almost done but i simply MUST watch 2x01 rn instead because i suddenly miss them terribly unbearably so this won’t be a valentine’s day fic like i thought but i need to see them on my screen immediately or i will pass away
Smunker is DESCENTED? is that a procedure he elected for? No more stank? (Btw i know how it works for skunks irl i just think its funnie + endearing so i wanted to ask abt smuk)
Yes! skunks can also be descented in my furryverse, I imagine there's different groups/cultures within the species that have mixed views on removing built in self defense like this. i've explored the same with cows/bulls and their horns
smunker is Like Me so if we're going by similarity i dont know he'd actually genuinely feel strongly enough to get descented. medical stuff is scary. + having built in pepper spray is pretty solid....
however i am a person whose main fursona is a skunk and I am not into #farting or adjacent interests. something had to be established within lore to curb assumptions LOL
i keep getting rejected from job applications and i have no idea what im doing wrong. i wish they would just tell you WHY you're getting rejected and ways to improve. its a guessing game that ends up making me feel even more worthless than i felt before