#because his ability to succeed everywhere made it difficult for him to accept no for an answer

[sportsallover]

Hi! Can I ask you the name of the podcast you mentioned in the tags under MVDP's photo? Thank you!

Sure! But it is in French :/

It is a very interesting listen. There’s some talk about how Mathieu hated losing to David when they were kids. 😁

The bit I mentioned in the tags is at the very end.

[antianakin]

@theneutralmime

I guess that depends on what you mean by weird or difficult to understand.

I think the dialogue is sometimes pretty clunky, I think it's aged really badly in some places, I think sometimes Lucas didn't explain things as well as maybe needed to for a primarily Western audience. But I don't think it's IMPOSSIBLE to understand, either. It's made for children to be able to understand the story and I think he managed that perfectly fine. I think by and large that the intended audience of the Prequel films understood what the story was. They know that the Jedi are the good guys and Anakin's the bad guy even if he seems nicer at the start. It's mostly adults who pick apart the Prequels and find it too clunky to be understood.

I think that Lucas's writing strength is not necessarily in his dialogue, but I also think he WAS intentional with what dialogue he chose and that there's reasons for why characters speak the way they do or say the things they do. Anakin is bad at flirting and awkward because he wanted Anakin to come off as a whiny teenager. This was entirely intentional. You can discuss whether making Anakin a whiny teenager was a good choice or not, but I think he succeeds at making Anakin feel like a whiny, bratty nineteen year old with like little to no ability to be suave.

I think it's possible that popular fandom interpretations of the Prequels have made it difficult to view them the way Lucas intended. It became SO widely accepted that the Prequels were about the Jedi being corrupt that it was nearly impossible to understand them any other way, and it DID take reading several essays on the dialogue and the different interviews Lucas had where he explained some of it for me to change my perspective on it. But that might be less of a problem of the film and its dialogue being weird on its own and more of a problem of fandom interpretations becoming so popular that they manage to overwrite my own understanding of the films. Also, if you're a more casual fan of the films, like I was before a couple of years ago, you're not necessarily looking up interviews where Lucas discusses these things or watching the films with his audio commentary on to hear him talk about certain scenes, so if a certain fandom interpretation is accepted as the truth and starts to spread, you might end up more familiar with THAT than you are with the things Lucas has said that counteract it.

One of the things I needed essays to help me with was attachment, because I DO think that Lucas failed to make sure that his definition of it was made clear to an audience that would've had a very different association with the word already. That being said, I think he DOES make the THEME clear within the story, about selfishness and greed and an inability to let go and how burning the world for the people you love is bad and how you can always choose to be bad but you can always choose to be good again too. I don't think the themes that Lucas was going for in his films are honestly that weird or different from what we OFTEN see in films in Hollywood. The concept of "letting go" is literally everywhere. It crops up in SO MANY films, especially in films aimed at the same demographic, but even films aimed at a more adult audience, too. It's an incredibly basic and popular theme and it's not hard to pick up in his films.

But I think people heard the word "attachment" and it flipped them out because the word attachment is basically equivalent to "relationship" or "love" most of the time in more Western media (see literally any Jane Austen film, they use the word a lot in there) and so they came to the conclusion that the Jedi forbid relationships and love entirely and then it led them to the conclusion that the Jedi were corrupt and THAT'S why Anakin fell to the dark side. That one word being tossed into the dialogue without adequate clarification on how Lucas was defining it had a cascade effect on people's ability to understand the story within the Prequels.

For example, there IS a parallel between Anakin's fall and the corruption of an institution in the Prequels, so people are picking up on something that DOES EXIST in the films, they're just applying it to the wrong institution. It's not the Jedi Order that parallels Anakin's corruption, it's the SENATE. But because people applied the corruption thing to the Jedi, they ended up dismissing the Senate as just already evil because it became the Empire later and it just becomes yet another way to blame the Jedi for things because they were working for an inherently evil organization and either didn't care or were too blind to realize it. So you can see how a misunderstanding of one word in one line of dialogue in one film ended up changing the entire understanding of the films.

But to a kid watching the movies, the word attachment might not yet be something they're familiar enough with to misunderstand. They might just gloss over that line of dialogue the way they would anything that involved a word they didn't totally understand and just rely on the visuals and music and other dialogue to lead them to the correct conclusions. Kids watching these films are capable of picking up that OF COURSE the Jedi are the good guys the whole time, of course they're not corrupt monsters, everything in the films made it very clear that they're the good guys. And it's a lot easier to pick up on the real themes of the story and the way the films are telling it when you start from that conclusion.

So, for me, when I was first reading those essays about what attachment meant in Star Wars and what Lucas had said about it, it didn't feel like I was getting a whole new understanding of the story so much as things were FINALLY slotting into place with what I'd understood as a child. My feelings about the Prequels and the story I'd gotten from them had never really aligned with what everyone else seemed convinced was true, but I'd never met anyone else who saw them positively before, so I'd just assumed if I liked them then it was because I'd watched them incorrectly, that I only liked them because I'd been shown the Prequels first when I was really young whereas everyone else had watched the Original Trilogy first. For me, reading these different interpretations of the Prequels that showcased a very different story than the one most people knew about wasn't NEW (not precisely anyway), it was just VALIDATING. There was a REASON I'd liked them before, a reason I still DID like them as an adult, even though everyone around me seemed to hate them and believe unequivocally that they were terrible films.

So is some of the dialogue weird? Sure, it's clunky sometimes, and there are things that aren't made clear enough, but I don't think Lucas was RELYING on his dialogue to get his story across. He's said before that in some ways he views Star Wars as silent films and the dialogue that's in it is more like music. The story isn't told through the dialogue for him, it's told through the visuals and the dialogue itself is secondary. And this works out fine when you're a kid who's used to dialogue sometimes not being understandable anyway and so you're more reliant on visuals and music to help you figure out the story, but the adults who were watching it were more used to relying on the dialogue to tell them everything they needed to know and so these films fell short. So while I do think the dialogue was flawed, I don't think it really hinders understanding of the story Lucas was trying to tell, but popular fandom interpretations of the films becoming the ONLY interpretation of the films DOES hinder understanding of that story.

[redrobin-detective]

I was really tired overworking myself the past two days and my brain, for whatever reason, latched onto picking apart Aizawa. So here’s some thoughts I guess.

- Aizawa comes across as a bitter person who still maintains his kindness and passion beneath his apathetic exterior. I believe he came from a neglectful home, not truly abusive but one where he was left to his own devices most times. He learned a lot through books which explains his preference for logic and his general awkwardness with people. 

- He was a late bloomer with his quirk, it wasn’t officially diagnosed until he was 5/6 though its debatable if it did manifest earlier and no one noticed. Psychic quirks ran in his family but the quirk erasure really took them by surprise. Began having dry eye and itchiness when he was young and never knew why. I like to believe the quirk developed in one eye first which his folks just slapped an eyepatch on and moved on (inspired by this image from Smash)

- (I have so many thoughts on his parents and their lives/quirks but that’s another story. At best they’re detached, busy parents but at worst... using their psychic quirks to create their wealth as manipulative people causing Aizawa’s general distrust of people and help fan his desire to be a hero)

- ((I cannot let go of the headcanon that the reason Shouta keeps his hair so long, an illogical borderline dangerous “tell” for his quirk, is not only for comfort. One of his parents’ psychic quirks also made their hair float, but they kept it cropped short to fool people. Aizawa values honesty so much and the idea of tricking people like that way burns him so he keeps his hair long))

- Did face some backlash from his quirk, people didn’t like having their “special abilities” taken from them. It wasn’t as bad as Shinsou experienced partially bc he initially couldn’t control erasure to the point kids would fear him and partially because he had little to no interaction with his peers. He self isolated and made no attempts to make friends or declare his desire to be a hero.

- Lots of people argue Aizawa came from wealth or poverty and I say por que no los dos? Aizawa was born into a rich family and as a child was given the best schooling, clothing, etc but very little attention. At some point in his mid childhood (I say about 10) the wealth was taken away and baby Zawa kind of had to realign his world view and adapt. Even when he became financially stable as an adult he still maintains the frugal habits he developed.

- Originally had no interest in being a hero, it was just a stupid popularity contest with no weight behind it. Once he moved to the poorer, more dangerous side of town he saw people suffering and wanted to do something about it. Thought about the police but saw how little power they had compared to heroes. When he expressed a desire everyone told him he couldn’t with his quirk so from then spite was his primary motivator. 

- Was always quiet and sneaky and once he devoted himself to being a hero (a real hero not some fake he told himself angrily at 3am as he’s up training once more) he trained relentlessly. He parkoured everywhere, watched as many fights as he could to learn moves and spent so much time making his own style. A lot of it got corrected once he got to Yuuei and he learned *proper* fighting but he still maintains his own unique sensibilities.

- Has a legitimate sleep disorder only exacerbated by his crazy training schedule and later, all his jobs. Hasn’t gotten a proper nights sleep in years and at this point he’s too afraid to find out what would happen if he did.

- Erasure was an incredibly difficult quirk to wrangle, at first he could only maintain the quirk in second long bursts before his head hurt and his eyes were screaming. It took years of practice before he could maintain it for any significant length of time, much less during the stress of a fight. It speaks immensely to Aizawa’s training and persistence to make an initially weak quirk invaluable. 

- Oboro was his first real friend when he first joined the hero course, from there he met Hizashi who was also Oboro’s friend. When he died, Hizashi and Shouta wondered if they could maintain their friendship without the glue holding them together but they’ve endured, stronger than ever. 

- Was so aggressively prickly and determined when he first transferred into the hero course. He was so filled with energy to prove himself that he really put off his fellow classmates. Once he realized that he wasn’t going to be thrown out immediately he settled down a bit but never lost the feeling that most other students thought he shouldn’t be there. 

- Once Aizawa became well known in underground circles, he became very sought after by mainstream agencies. A hero who could erase villain quirks AND engage in active combat?? Everyone wants him on their staff but he insists on staying out of the limelight, working undercover for a pittance and turning his nose up at high paying sidekick gigs. 

- Never wanted to be a teacher, Oboro was the one who really was interested in coming back to teach at Yuuei. Talked about it alot, though he said he’d do it after he retired from Heroics. It wasn’t the only reason but Midnight, Mic and Aizawa were all thinking of him when they signed their teaching contracts. It took some trial and error but Aizawa took to teaching quite easily, found it really suited him. He’ll never admit it but he prefers it to pro heroing, here is where he’s really making a difference. 

- for the students he “accepts” Aizawa is so devoted to them, paying attention to their exploits in the news and sending them messages with advice or congratulations when they do well. For all that he has a reputation of strictness and cruelty, his students know how much he cares. When 1A graduates, he’s gonna be so damn proud and watch them succeed.

[leviplease]

First of all, nobody except my best friend asked for Digital Devil Saga/Quantum Devil Saga crossover, but I did it anyway. Second, I tried to write something short and make it about MikaAni, but it's 3:30 am and I cannot say how it turned out.

Warning for mentions of blood and injuries, because this is set after a messy battle. Also, DDS is a vore game so there's some talk about eating people and some blood drinking.

A trail of blood leads her to Annie. The woman is propped against the remains of a wall, one hand clutching her other arm which is hanging too low from her shoulder. Her chin is resting on her chest and there's blood everywhere, soaking her clothes in its crimson colour and pooling on the ground. It's hard to tell how much of it is her own and how much belonged to the enemies she fought.

For all Mikasa knows Annie could be dead. It would fall upon her to bring the news to Jean and he would let it affect him more than he should. Whenever the leader of the Embryon has gotten so concerned with the lives of his comrades — it's troublesome. At least that's what their bishop, Armin, would say. Mikasa, however, thinks she's starting to understand as she stares at yet another fallen ally. She doesn't want this, she never asked for this.

A cough shakes Annie's body, weak and violent at the same time. Mikasa rushes to her side and wraps one arm around her shoulder. She winces as Mikasa pulls her close, the arm she's holding slipping down her torso more than it should be possible. Considering all the blood and how torn her sleeve is it dawns on Mikasa that the arm is at least partially severed.

"Shit," Mikasa mutters under her breath. Then, louder so that Annie can hear her: "Hang in there, I've got you."

Annie gives a faint groan, her voice getting caught in her throat. Mikasa tries to be gentle as she adjusts her grip on Annie's back and nudges Annie over to rest against her chest. The first time they met — when Jean proposed an alliance between the Embryon and the Maribell — Mikasa could tell that Annie is a skilled fighter who can hold her own in battle. Now that she's resting in Mikasa's arms she feels so frail and weak. Mikasa hates the thought.

"It's okay," Mikasa assures either Annie or herself. Her mind has gone blank and it leaves her with a swelling sense of panic. Never before was she unable to think of what to do. She always came up with something — it's the only way to survive on the battlefield. If you hesitate you die.

"You're going to be okay," Mikasa continues though she isn't sure how. The arm shouldn't be a problem — none of the wounds should. Annie can regenerate those, just like Jean recovered from Eren biting his arm half off before they made it all the way back from Maribell HQ to their homebase. It's something that comes with the new abilities everyone in the Junkyard received not too long ago. But much like the magic and transformation they're capable of now it comes at a price.

"Star-ving…"

As expected, Annie used up all her strength. If she isn't able to appease her hunger soon she'll most likely start consuming herself. Mikasa has seen the black tar that remained of most of the Vanguard troops, she nearly melted herself and joined them had she not cast aside her own disgust and fed on the enemy she defeated together with Jean and Eren. It has become a matter of survival to all of them.

But not everyone is able to accept that. If Ymir as the leader is anything to go by, then most of the Maribell if not the entirety of them might have refused to feed on others. Half of them already lost their mind from hunger and yet Ymir and her tribe held on to pointless morals without hope until Jean offered an alternative to them. And even then what the Embryon have is just a small alleviation which doesn't actually solve the problem. If Mikasa agrees with Eren on one thing then that there is no high road to be taken here. They eat or they get eaten, they consume or they will be consumed. It's the new laws of the Junkyard as the battle for who will be allowed into Nirvana continues on.

"Just a moment…" Mikasa rummages in her pocket with her free hand. "I should still have my ration of pills."

Before they went to attack the Solids, each member of the Embryon and Maribell received a pouch of capsules containing blood. The small dosage normally would be far from enough to satisfy any of them if it wasn't for its donor being special. Historia appeared at around the same time in the Junkyard as the demonic powers manifested. The Embryon just happened to be lucky enough to find her first and take her in. It was her presence that allowed them to keep their sanity even as they struggled to accept their new fate. It was her blood that kept the monster inside them at bay so they didn't tear out each others throats from hunger.

Before Mikasa can find what she's looking for, Annie voices meak protest: "Don't gimme that crap. I need something proper."

She's right of course. The blood only suppresses their need to feed, it doesn't actually sustain them. Or maybe it could but they would have to consume it at a higher quantity and they don't have enough for that. Historia was already pale and weakened from giving blood for the limited supplies they have. The girl might be a mystery that makes them wonder with the things she says — like when she talks of concepts like night and stars and friendship — but she is mortal just like them.

"Okay." Mikasa turns her head and looks around on the battlefield, hoping to find a body to get Annie through. With all the blood in the area you'd think there were at least some torn off limbs lying around, but she cannot make out a thing. Either the others were already consumed or they dissolved or got away. "Damn, where did they all disappear to…?"

An elbow bumps into Mikasa's stomach. It lacks force, but it catches her off guard and topples her over. Her back hits the ground and she blinks in rapid succession to shake off her surprise. Annie is on top of her, uninjured arm pressing against her breasts. By the time she realises what is happening, she can feel teeth scraping the skin on her neck.

It doesn't take much force to push Annie off. Unlike her, Mikasa has already recovered from the fight with a fair share of enemy flesh. She groans again as she rolls onto the ground. Mikasa has only a little sympathy for Annie as she sits up and reaches for her neck to inspect the damage. It seems Annie drew a little blood, but it's nothing serious and should heal up soon enough.

Mikasa sighs. She wasn't even in favour of this alliance and agreed with Armin that they should backstab the Maribell as soon as the Solids are defeated, because in the Junkyard there are no cooperation between tribes and only one of them can make it to the promised Nirvana by defeating all the others. Yet here she is with one of the Maribell who made it close to the bottom of her sympathy list after just two encounters — and not only did she get attacked by Annie, despite it all she's still concerned. She cannot wrap her head around it.

Next to Mikasa Annie lies motionless on the ground, too weak to move after being denied by her chosen meal. It's almost pitiful if it wasn't for Mikasa believing that she gave her all in battle. Or at least Mikasa wants to believe, even though she remembers Annie saying that this entire fight was pointless and she would rather just sit it out.

Mikasa pulls out her knife which she still carries for emergencies. While guns and most other weapons have lost their use when everyone can transform into demons and wield magic, she couldn't give up on this one. She's glad she didn't as she slits her wrist with the blade and holds it out to Annie.

"You can have some of my blood to help you recover," Mikasa agrees. "But not one piece of flesh."

The offer alone is enough to get Annie moving. Mikasa knows just too well the hunger that drives her as she fumbles to her knees and makes several attempts to position herself in a way that allows her to easily ingest Mikasa's blood. The arm hanging limply at her side doesn't seem like much of a help — if anything it makes things more difficult — and even when kneeling she's swaying dangerously.

Mikasa cannot stand to watch the clumsy display. She circles around Annie and wraps her uncut arm around the other's torso. Annie sinks into her and begins licking the blood off her arm which she is providing so willingly. Her approach was a pragmatic one, but now that she's sitting on the ground and supporting Annie's slim frame it's something different. There's nothing she can do but wait and grow conscious of every inch where their bodies touch.

As Annie's greed drives her to consume more and more blood, Mikasa is growing uncomfortable and impatient. She has no sense for how much time passes, but it feels like an eternity before she allows herself to pull her arm away. Why she is even concerned with Annie's wellbeing when they aren't of the same tribe and they talked maybe once so far is a mystery to her.

"That's enough," Mikasa declares and ignores Annie's huffed complained. "Once we regroup with the others we'll see about finding you some scraps from the battle."

"Fine." Annie pulls out of Mikasa's loose embrace, leaving the cold to spread where she rested just a moment ago. Mikasa tries to ignore that she took notice.

Getting back on her feet turns out to be a challenge for Annie while she's trying to hold her injured arm in place. By the time Mikasa gets over herself and moves to help her, Annie succeeds in standing up. Mikasa pulls back her hand, just in case Annie spares a glance over her shoulder. She isn't sure what transpired between them, she just knows that this shouldn't have been possible a week ago.

"Just so we're clear: this was an exception." Mikasa doesn't want Annie to get the wrong impression. They're not allies, she cannot let herself slip into thinking that they are. One of their leaders just has to change their mind and they're back to being enemies again.

Annie gives Mikasa a look that is hard to read. "Don't worry, I didn't think you were the generous type."

The remark is impassive and yet Mikasa thinks she saw the hint of a smile on Annie's lips before she turned away.

[bemystucky]

AU!Robin Hood (Part II)

Prompt/Summary: This story is for @hunters-from-stark-tower’s movie!AU challenge. The story is set in the world of Robin Hood (Disney) but only loosely follows the plot. It is a modern-ish take. The reader will be a new character in the movie and not a spin-off of one of the characters.

Characters/Pairings: Clint Barton x f!Reader, Nat, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Steve, Tony, Nick Fury and Bruce.

Warnings: Swearing, Angst

Word Count: 1627

Author’s Note: LOL OK SO PART 1 KIND OF FLOPPED BUT I have a deadline to meet and I’m trying not to let (lack of) notes deter me from writing. SO! Here I am again. Some things that don’t make sense in the first part will make more sense after this! Also, not sure if I mentioned it before but the characters do not necessarily have the same characteristics as their Marvel counterparts. Hope you guys like it :)

Part I

Previous Part

“Visit you? Not a chance, Robin Hood. Let’s get moving.” Pierce had Rumlow and his men take Clint and Natasha into the dungeons below. Chancing a quick glance behind him, he saw Wanda’s stunned features. Clint shared a look with Natasha and smirked.

Hook, line, sinker.

In the Forest Shack

Holy shit, what had happened? (Y/N) woke to Sam screaming at Steve.

“How could you not see the signs Steve? She’s affected by whatever is happening to them. It sure as hell isn’t one of us!”

“You don’t know that Sam,” Steve hissed. “It could be Bucky and Bruce. And if that’s the case, then we’ve got problems!”

“Steve, I swear to God you are the most infuriating person! First you don’t believe in her abilities, now you’re saying that it’s Bucky and Bruce. What do you have against Clint and Nat? They’re part of the team! Why do you insist on singling them out?” To say that Sam was exasperated was an understatement. Even Tony was beginning to feel exhausted by Steve’s argumentative nature.

“Clint is always getting into trouble and drawing unnecessary attention to us. We need to lie low and he’s out there doing that Robin Hood shit. It’s a wonder Natasha even sticks to him! He is nothing but trouble and it won’t do us any good. If we want to get the King reinstated, we need to be as inconspicuous as possible!” Steve’s voice was steadily rising. He didn’t necessarily care for Clint’s unpredictable actions. He knew that Clint’s archery skills were unmatchable and extremely helpful but he that didn’t warrant the sporadic behaviour, in his opinion.

“Oh I get it,” Sam snarled. “You’re jealous of Clint.” He was tired of Steve going on his tangents about Robin Hood.

“W-what? Absolutely not!”

“Sure Steve,” Sam scoffed. “Robin Hood is just the type of thing you would want to do. Steal from the rich and give to the poor. I know that, you know that, hell, everyone knows it! You’re pissed because he’s out there doing that instead of you!”

“This is ridiculous, I would never –”

“Please will you both shut up?” (Y/N)’s feeble voice piped up from the couch. “Steve, if you don’t want to help, I don’t care. I’ll go alone.” Sam rushed to (Y/N)’s side and helped her sit up. The two had a friendship that rivaled Nat and Clint’s. People often mistook them to be a couple, but their relationship was more of a sibling bond.

“Not a chance. If you’re going, I am too.”

“You’ve both got to be joking right now. We don’t have time for this,” said Steve. “Tony, tell them.”

Tony’s head thunked onto the table in front of him. “You’re all children. We haven’t even figured out the legality of reinstating Fury. So, if we’re really doing this right now, (Y/N) and Sam can go do whatever the hell they need to do and you can stay here and help me with this shit.”

“Who died and made you captain?” Steve retorted. Tony couldn’t have lifted his head faster, almost hurting his neck as he shot up to face Steve.

“You’re kidding. You know what, fine. You asked for me to say something. I did and I think it’s reasonable. Judging by the look on (Y/N) and Sam’s faces, they agree too. So either help me, or help them, Steve. You’re not making anything better by yelling at them. Don’t let your jealousy blind you,” Tony spat. He couldn’t handle these people. Steve was supposed to be the oldest and yet, he was often the most immature at times like this.

“Thank you, Tony. I really appreciate this.” (Y/N) muttered out. The corners of Tony’s mouth lifted slightly in response. Sam helped (Y/N) off the couch and into the kitchen. They would head out first thing in the morning.

Meanwhile, at the castle

“Fuck you!” Blood trickled down the side of Clint’s head and out the corner of Nat’s mouth. They had been unrelentlessly whipped and beaten ever since they had been caught. But now, they had been chained back up by the bars in their cells.

A dark chuckle rang through the dim and stingy dungeon.

“I’ll pass, thanks. I’m don’t play for your team. Now, your pretty lady friend on the other hand…” Rumlow stroked Natasha’s face through the bars, only to result in being spat upon. “Feisty. I like it.” Clamping a hand down onto her mouth, Rumlow leaned impossibly close to Nat’s ear.

“Tell me, pretty face, what were you and Robin Hood doing? Reveal your true identities to us and we won’t have a problem.”

Natasha glared at Rumlow and bit his palm, earning herself a slap in the face.

“Enough!” A pretty voice stopped Rumlow from slapping Natasha again.

Turning his head to the source of the interruption, Rumlow plastered a fake smile on his face when he saw who it was. “Maid Wanda, what are you doing here? Prince Alexander will not be pleased.”

“No matter. Take a rest right now. Let me speak to them, see if I can get any information from them that you haven’t.” Rumlow shook his head.

“Absolutely not. This is no place for a woman,” he spat. “Besides, you will not succeed more than I have.”

“Try me.” Growling, Rumlow relented.

“Fine, but I stay.”

“They will not speak if you are here. Do not make this difficult Rumlow. Take your men and leave.”

Rumlow looked as though he would defy but ultimately followed Maid Wanda’s orders, much to the surprise of his men and the two prisoners.

Clint and Natasha regarded Maid Wanda skeptically as she nodded to her lady-in-waiting to release the pair.

“What are you doing? Why help us?” Natasha inquired.

“More importantly, how did you get Rumlow to leave? He will rat you out and that will make things even worse for us. And it certainly will not be good for you.” Clint’s eyes never left Maid Wanda’s. As it was, he felt as though there was some sort of connection that he had with her but he couldn’t quite pin his finger on it. It baffled him and he didn’t like that. However, he was quite eager to get to know Maid Wanda better and to find out what that connection is.

“At the moment, I can’t disclose that information. But, if you take the deal I am about to offer, then it may come up.”

“Hold on. How do we know we can trust you?” Nat piped up as she rubbed her sore wrists.

“You can’t. But if you want to get out of here, I’m your best, and really, only bet. No one else is going to get you out.”

“What could we possibly do for you?” Nat carried the conversation as Clint silently observed.

“If I get the two of you out of here, you must take me with you.”

“I knew it! I told you she was here involuntarily, didn’t I Nat?” Clint smirked triumphantly.

“Shut up. This is not the time. And don’t use that name you don’t know who is watching.” Turning back to Maid Wanda, Nat continued. “So, that simple? All we have to do is get you out with us?”

“And hide me.”

“Hide you?” Nat asked incredulously. “How could we, two citizens, hide a maiden of the kingdom? Surely, the second you step out of this castle you’ll be recognized. It would be a task in itself to get you out without the guards trying to recognize you.”

“See, getting out will not really be a problem. I’ve got people. It’s staying hidden that’s going to be the task.”

Nat shared a look with Clint, a silent conversation between them ensued.

“I will give you the night to think about it. First thing in the morning, my lady-in-waiting, Maria, will come for you. Should you choose to accept, she will let you out and take you to meet me. If you don’t accept, she will still let you out but you must navigate the castle on your own. I understand you were blindfolded when you were brought down here. There is only one way out of the dungeons but there are guards everywhere who now recognize you. Furthermore, the dungeons are in the deepest part of the castle. Hardly any people know their way around. Even the guards sometimes have a hard time navigating the corridors. I only know the pathways since I grew up here and I use those pathways to my advantage when I need to sneak out for a breath of fresh air. So, whether I see you or not tomorrow, I bid you good luck.”

As Maid Wanda turned to leave, Clint spoke up in a silken voice.

“Maid Wanda, you make a compelling offer. Rest assured, we will carefully mull this over. No matter what we decide, I would like to thank you for helping us. It has been my pleasure to meet you.”

Looking over her shoulder, Wanda smiled. “The pleasure was all mine. Maria must lock you guys back up in your cells now to provide the illusion that we did our jobs. Tell her something that Rumlow can know. She’ll tell you everything else that you’ll need to know.”

With that, Maid Wanda swiftly exited the dungeons.

“The guards coming in won’t be our people until tomorrow morning,” Maria said as she ushered Clint and Nat back into the cells. “I suggest sleeping well tonight. Regardless of your decision, tomorrow will be a grueling day. I would speak only of this in hushed tones and only in between the guards’ shifts. While they may not physically be in here, there are always people listening and watching so be careful.”

As Maria left and a guard came back in, Nat looked at Clint. It was obvious that they had already made up their minds. They needed their rest because Maria was right. No matter what they chose, tomorrow would be one hell of a day.

Thoughts?

Tagging (let me know if you want to be untagged): @pleasecallmecaptain @crownie-sr @writing-soldiers @hotmessofafangirl @wowhowawkwardisthat @sebstan01 @writingruna @you-and-bucky @sinbad1229 @the-real-tony-stank @theartofbeingmilla @smol-flower-kiddo @marvelfanfichq @mylittlefandomfanfictions @tempestinatea-cup @harrypotter2611 @shamvictoria11 @emmaplum @annadier @23aprliee @imagine-assembling-the-avengers

[stephenaltrogge-blog]

In the summer of 2013, my husband Josh and I flew to Uganda to adopt two small children, a brother and sister, ages 3 and 5. We spent 5 weeks learning, crying, laughing, and praying as we navigated the process of legally adopting and making these kids our own.

We sat in front of a judge, we waited for new passports, we took the kids to have medical examinations and TB tests and we amassed two massive folders of paperwork that basically said, “these two Mzungus (white people) can take these kids home with them.”

In the meantime, our two biological daughters, then 3 and 4, were back at home hanging with their grandparents and aunts and uncles, missing us, but generally enjoying life as they swam and played and were doted on.

Even now, as I look back on that month, my stomach twists as I remember just how incredibly terrified I was. In the lovely videos and pictures that people post, it always appears that adoptive mothers are confident, brave, strong, and loving. I was anxious, fearful, and desperate.

Why on earth did God call me, of all people, to this? And how, how, are these strangers to become my children? What are we DOING?

But of course, time moved us forward. We came home, and the process of bonding and adapting began. In truth, the transition was easier than I had anticipated. Within six months the language changed from Luganda to English. The kids were siblings. God created a new family, and we rejoiced.

Now, four and a half years later, we have a lot of great memories to look back on. We have four funny, crazy, precocious children. They laugh and play and fight with the best of them. Oh and now that the girls are getting older they feel. ALL THE TIME.

We get to see the wonder of children who accept adoption, and having siblings of another ethnicity, as the norm. And it’s beautiful. Like when our Charlotte was asked by a classmate how he was her brother. And she responded in confusion, “Uh…because he’s my BROTHER.”

Or when my brother and his wife, both white, had a baby and our Eva was genuinely surprised that the baby was white. Because in her mind, white parents can have black children and that’s that.

But all beauty and bonding and lovely stories aside, these years have been HARD. We’ve seen psychologists and battled severe educational delays. I’ve had anxiety attacks and discovered the anger issues I thought I had so tightly reined in resurfaced with a quickness.

Discipline has been a total crapshoot, like throwing spaghetti against the wall to see if it sticks. Will this work? How about this? Maybe this? All the parenting lessons we’d learned – out the window.

We experience the inevitable effects of abandonment, neglect, and the death of a parent. We must reassure again and again and again and again and again. We are in over our heads.

World Adoption Day and Orphan Care Sunday were both several weeks ago, with both striving to draw attention to the need for, and beauty of, adoption, fostering, and orphan care; I thought it an appropriate time to share a bit of our own story. But beyond that, I want to share a few of the lessons we’ve learned.

Recommended resource:

Sale

Adopted for Life: The Priority of Adoption for Christian Families and Churches (Updated and Expanded Edition)

Russell Moore - Publisher: Crossway - Edition no. 0 (10/31/2015) - Paperback: 256 pages

$17.99 - $4.10 $13.89

We’re only four years into this thing, so I’m sure these lessons will change or become obsolete as our experience grows and deepens. But that doesn’t mean they aren’t relevant today, and hopefully they’ll bring some encouragement to those who need it.

We Are Not Awesome

Something interesting happens when you decide to adopt. People think you’re amazing (not the people who really know you. They’re not fooled). But the typical bystander thinks you’re brave and selfless and spiritually deep. They think you have a superpower that they just don’t have. They say things like:

“You guys have such big hearts.”

“Those kids are so lucky to have you.”

“Wow, I don’t think I could ever do that.”

Because we are fallen creatures and pride is our natural fleshly bent, I can’t tell you how easy it is to begin to believe this. “Man, we ARE awesome. Look at this beautiful thing we did. Go us.”

Here’s the hard-learned truth, though. We are as sinful and as in need of the gospel as we ever were. We are sinners who adopted kids. That’s it. If our hearts are big, it’s because our God has enlarged them with his indwelling presence. Any good in us comes from Him.

Our kids aren’t “lucky.” They are sinners living in a fallen world, too. They, too, need the blessing of salvation even more than the blessing of food and shelter and love.

As far as whether or not anyone else can do this: who are we to say? It’s funny to watch people get so nervous when talking to us about adoption, as though we think everyone everywhere should do it. If anything, we are very familiar with what a life-altering, difficult decision it is.

I think that in order for the church to really embrace adoption and foster care, we must do away with this notion of “special” people being called into it. It’s become an easy thing to point to in order to avoid really praying about and considering it. It also sets adoptive parents on a pedestal, which they certainly don’t need.

Normal sinners adopt. God is the one who works the miracles that make it possible.

We Are Not Owed Anything

As a Christian, I believe that adoption is an earthly shadow of what our Heavenly Father did for us when He sent His son. The Bible says in multiple places that when we call on Jesus Christ as Lord and Savior, we become adopted children of God. We are co-heirs with Christ, born again into a new life.

I think we can all get our heads around that imagery when we see the adoptive parents drawing their new children into their arms, removing the label of orphan and giving new identities and new lives.

However, where I’ve really seen the gospel picture most clearly is in the worst moments. I’m ashamed to admit it, but deep down there was something in me that felt I was owed something. What I never say out loud, but feel deep down, is, “How could you doubt that I love you? Don’t you see all that I’ve done for you?”

Where is God’s love most clearly displayed? “God demonstrates His own love for us in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.” He saves the prodigals, the children who say again and again, “You don’t really love me. I don’t believe you.”

That’s adoption. Just like the Israelites in the wilderness looked back on Egypt with longing, so the orphan will doubt the parents’ goodness again and again. So we doubt God’s goodness again and again.

Recommended resource:

Sale

God's Very Good Idea: A True Story of God's Delightfully Different Family

Trillia Newbell - Publisher: The Good Book Company - Hardcover: 32 pages

$14.99 - $1.50 $13.49

If I respond as I ought, it’s because He supplied the ability to do so. If I doubt Him and refuse to obey, He welcomes my repentance and bestows mercy and grace once more.

This is what it is to adopt a child. Orphans are needy and desperate they will rely on your kindness and grace repeatedly. Don’t put a burden on them that your Father in heaven has lifted from your own shoulders.

This not only applies to our children, but to others as well. Too often I’ve read blog posts by adoptive parents that demand that other people “get it,” or tiptoe around their experiences. I find this to be fairly unhelpful. It’s a given that others will have questions, and sometimes express those questions in unintentionally awkward ways.

Be gracious, be kind, and remember how many stupid questions you’ve asked in your life. Little is accomplished by expecting one with no experience in orphan care to meet your standards.

There Is Only One Expert

Look, guys. You can read a million things about how to adopt well. There are huge books written on the subject. There are guidebooks and memoirs and stories and blog posts and articles. Some of it may be helpful. Some of it, not so much. In the end, here’s what I know. You are a unique parent to your unique children.

This is true for biological and adoptive parents, but I think is an especially important thing for parents of adopted children and special needs children to understand. The one who knows your child best is God. Then after that, you.

Learning this lesson doesn’t mean we haven’t sought professional help. In fact, we have. We’ve gotten so much from it. We’ve also learned that even with all of the research available, the experts don’t totally understand what childhood trauma does to development. But there is an all-knowing God who does understand everything that we don’t.

In our desperation to always know and control, we can forget that we must trust God and allow Him to speak and instruct. He does this through His church, His Word, and His Spirit. He also does it through the provision of experts and professionals, but those shouldn’t replace the three primary sources of His grace, but rather supplement them.

His Grace Is Sufficient

Perhaps this is the lesson of every parent, but I’ve found it to be particularly true as I’ve entered into brokenness and murky histories and baffling behavior. I am not enough for the task. No adoptive parents are. But the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ is.

Where I succeed, his gracious provision has made it possible. Where I’ve failed, He’s showing my need for it all over again. Most of the time I feel like a huge mess, navigating a hopeless parenting labyrinth. Thankfully, the end is clear and bright, and it’s not up to me to get myself there.

There are no guarantees of wonderful, well-turned out children, biological or adopted. But the grace of God to walk through whatever is coming is a sure and steady promise.

The post When Sinners Adopt It’s Beautiful…and Really Difficult appeared first on The Blazing Center.

[nicktungle]

Path [cont’d]

Blessings upon blessings, I can’t seem to keep up. Everything is I “can’t” this or that. Why do we think that way? Why is my mind specifically so wired to have the perspectives of can’t’s and won’t’s with the inability to process positivity when they slide up my stream? Anyways. I am trying to process all these things as they come and I believe that my vessel, my threshold, is constantly being changed, altered, tested--that is why we say “can’t.” Which is beautiful in itself with a little hint of somberness.  As I’ve mentioned before, I have been on a spiritual journey. The end goal? Who really knows, however, I feel as if the universe is constantly pushing me toward this path. No longer am I cautiously treading through this metaphorical tunnel with the light at the end of the tunnel. Rather, I am my light; no longer at a stride to escape, I am slowly pacing with the ability to see the things--blessings, curses, inanimate objects within arms-length radius. To my left and right are my tools, behind me are the lessons learned, and in front of me--the rest of the path needed to be un/covered. One consistent theme, perhaps I may also be looking too much into it, or perhaps not. Infinite signs are given to us on the daily, it is only up to us to see the message and decipher its meaning, or to simply allow them to pass and not think twice about. What I am trying to say is that what I have chosen to understand about this path are these few instances that I may or may not be reading too deeply into. Enough with the vague dialogues, here are the events that I am going to list and continue to add to as the rest of this path unfolds. Signs of the universe nudging me onto my spiritual journey: 1. Aligning myself with myself allowed the universe to play its role and take over without any of my [direct] influence (subjective; by wavelengths) and pushed me into a world of spirituality to be experienced in 21 days--getting to know myself, my role in mother nature’s world, and the thresholds constrained by years of societal conditioning to be questioned and surpassed.

2. Through this experience, my wavelength crossed paths with meeting Vence. My homie, my spiritual brother, the person who had knowledge of this unexplainable feeling I’ve always had but to put into concrete terms and lessons to be learned and expressed. A week spent with Vence and Dean truly pushing each other to our limits and reaching a few of the highest peaks in California with little-to-no sleep and not only striding through them, but also taking moments, days, weeks to truly reflect upon each mountain and their effects on us physically, mentally, and spiritually. What did each of them mean to us? That week is probably one of my favorite weeks in my entire life. The duration of each climb building my heart and mind with so much energy and to be dispersed at each peak, whether through sweat, deep breaths inward and out, and/or tears. I’m not ashamed to cry at a mountain top. I’m not ashamed to cry tears of joy anywhere for that matter anymore. This was what it felt to truly feel.

3. Following these days, I was inspired once again by my spiritual brother to revisit The Alchemist. Nights spent reflecting upon our experiences, we constantly came back to figure out the goal: what is our purpose here? What is your personal legend? I think it is extremely important to once in a while revisit the things that have once inspired us because as we grow, so does our perspectives. With each visit, we notice other meanings within the same words we’ve read multiple times that take on different meanings, new perspectives that become relevant to who we are today, tomorrow, whenever and whatever it is that we were/are searching for in that moment. 4. Upon finishing The Alchemist, I was also recommended Siddhartha by Herman Hesse. The story of a man’s journey through “finding” enlightenment within the boundaries of mankind and our relationship with ego, greed, hunger, temptation. I brushed off the recommendation because I was still allowing Santiago’s story to set in. However, a few months later, another friend completely unexpected and unrelated once again nudged me to read the story of Siddhartha. So I did. And I’m glad I read it when I read it because only then was it that much more relevant to my days.

5. On a late-night conversation with my loving mom, I expressed to her the issues that I was dealing with--experiences no mother would want to hear from their child--depression, anxiety, hopelessness, distant. She hugged me tenderly. My eyes swelled with tears. She told me she too once felt the feelings I described. I love her, with all of my being, all of my soul, all of my energy beyond this physical plane. Upon completing Siddhartha, my mother summoned a book from her library, The Art of Happiness, a handbook graced by the Dalai Lama.  6. Months later, we all receive an email. The Dalai Lama himself will be speaking at the graduation ceremony of 2017. Coincidence? Maybe. Affected? Absolutely. 7. Every other day I feel like I am going through some type of existential crisis. Constantly wondering where I am going to be after this is all over, constantly questioning if I’ve made the ‘right’ career path, constantly engulfed by every insecurity going on through every early 20-year-old soon-to-be graduated college student during a quarter-life crisis. 

Which leads me to meeting Jumpei. At attempts to keep busy and work toward where I want to be--the considered “safe zone” in this capitalistic society, I study or research music and the various avenues to “succeed”. With my favorite coffee shop getting incredibly busy during this part of the season with college kids sprinkled everywhere, it has increasingly become difficult to find a seat nowadays. One table, in a row of individual tables aligned a long bench, was open, so immediately I sat down and began to construct my workstation. About a half hour into my studies, the Japanese kid in a flashy suit next to me asked what I was studying. Macroeconomics, I replied. “What is your dream”, he asked. Thinking to myself, “that’s a loaded question for a stranger, who is this guy?” I stopped and asked myself that question. Unable to come up with an answer, I was startled. Everybody has a dream. Kids have limitless dreams. Why can’t I think of even just one that can bring me some type of satisfaction? In a string of stutters and verbal circles, ‘I don’t know’ I defeatedly admitted. He said, “It’s okay, I didn’t know how to answer that either when I was asked.” And began describing what he is also trying to figure out in his own life as a recent college graduate. Apparently, he was currently under a mentorship of a couple who retired at 33 years old, who asked him the same question which made him come to realize his biggest fear: not knowing what his ideal life, his dream, was. They have been teaching him how to manage his income and helping him learn the foundations toward future endeavors to be able to do the same--knowledge of building assets, understanding investments, understanding fiscal responsibility, ultimately to become self-sustainable and financially secure. We shared stories. He offered to introduce me and also become students of them and gain some experience before entering the dreaded workforce under corporate america. We shared contact info. I thought to myself, well shit, my questions may have been answered. This may lead to a possible job or whatever the fuck after. Maybe I’m not shit out of luck after all.

8. After a night spent consumed in studies and metaphysical contemplations, I came home to my roommate and his co-workers hanging about in our living room, hookah smoke in the air and glass bottles on the counter. A few exchanges of good-natured banter and “locker-room” talk amongst all of us, I expected nothing but a night left with shallow humor and laughs. Never have I been so wrong. Iraj, the 47 year-old Iranian electrical engineer, began discussing the processes of energy--neither able to be created nor destroyed--and his understandings/perception of the process of how the universe works due to an epiphany from a weekend spent with mushrooms in his undergraduate days. The simple alteration of our minds and the way we perceived things, he said, is the greatest gift you can give yourself. The way he described to us his experiences and the revelations he experienced through years of meditation and introspective thoughts, stuck to me. He said to us, each of us, to the core, is love. Energy is love. We are not to seek or feel, but to be love. Love as an entity of its own, not to be mistaken with romance, we are it. Everyone is it. Neither able to be created nor destroyed, we as individuals and a collection are energy. We are love. And much much more. Furthering the archive of book recommendations, he threw more titles at us to read. I willfully accepted and thanked. 9. Sitting marinated in those thoughts for a few weeks, I continued to bask in all of these ideologies. I’ve come to understand that the fundamental purpose of life is to understand. To be. The purpose which drives us. The final goal of every conscious being on this planet is simply to be at peace. Monks have been practicing this ideology for ages. 10. Jumpei constantly kept me updated with the times he’d meet with Mike and his wife (I forgot her name), and continue to share what he’s learned from them, on top of his day job as a sales representative. 2/22, I met up with him for some coffee while I study for my next midterm and for him to teach me what he has been learning. It’s a simple change in the way we think as a collective, he stresses. The initial lesson began with asset building with settings of a monopolistic firm, proceeding to multiple firms of different depths and markets following the same constraints of a monopolistic firm basically alluding to multiple sources of income. That’s the key, Mike stresses. The atmosphere shifts and we begin conversing on other topics, again reflecting upon self-fulfillment. I come to find out that this money hungry dude is not just some money obsessed guy. Jumpei has an interesting background being from Japan with its intense societal structures and being raised by his grandparents owning a spiritual healing and crystal business. And that all of these money-making plans is just a game to him to break through and out of the system of capitalist consumerism. This kid in an extremely well-tailored suit and flashy watch admits all of this shit means nothing to him. Once, he was a free roaming, dreaded-haired spirit roaming through Thailand as a yogi doing all he can to align himself with the energies toward enlightenment. The same verses spoken by Iraj, the 47 year old electrical engineer. At this point, my mind was spinning, as I shared the same sentiments. The universe works in some fucking incredible ways. He said, look man, I believe we both run on the same vibrations and the universe has united us as indigo beings to question this threshold and increase these wavelengths to higher heights. He believes it’s not a coincidence I sat by him that day and he felt that. We’re spiritual brothers, he continued. That’s why I want to share these things I’m learning with you. There’s more work to be done outside of this game. I laughed to myself as my chest began to tremble nervously and eagerly simultaneously. As for myself, I’m all for skepticism when it comes to crystal healings and whatnot, but I do believe in spiritual connections and magnetic draws in our vibrations. This path I have set upon, fully allowing the universe to take me toward whichever direction, following the omens as Santiago did, questioning but also trusting in myself as Siddhartha has, has led me to this point. I’m on a spiritual journey, who knows where it is heading toward, but I take it all in. And I’m treading these waters carefully, cautiously, and willfully. The metaphorical tunnel I am leading, what I’ve come to understand as, is no test with a light at the end. But rather an unlit road with myself being my light, only able to see an arm-lengths radius surrounding me, but becoming increasingly brighter as I recruit others and awaken them along the path to join with their respective lights becoming a brighter force and shining further to see more of our perimeter as we continue further. [tl;dr] My trip towards enlightenment [influenced out of my control]: 1. I let go and ended up going on a road trip that i didn't suggest nor plan but pushed me onto a path of spirituality unknowingly. 2. Met Vence and Dean and increased my knowledge and understanding of energy. 3. Revisited The Alchemist that allowed me to reflect internally what I believe my purpose to be 4. Read Siddhartha after multiple recommendations which helped me understand what it means to become enlightened and question myself on what it means to me 5. Allowed myself to be vulnerable with my mother about my inner demons, which she suggested a new read by the Dalai Lama 6. Months later finding out the Dalai Lama will be speaking at our commencement ceremony 7. Met Jumpei, what I perceived at the time to be a business connection 8. Learned from Iraj, a 47 year old electrical engineer who used his understanding of physics and applied them to meta-physics and shared with us his thoughts toward enlightenment 9. Grasped the multiple concepts and marinated in thought introspectively to what it means to me and how it is incorporated into everyday life 10. Met with Jumpei once again on a business meeting and learning he too, has been traveling his spiritual journey for years with a background heavily influenced by yogi and meditation. Indigo Children. Spiritual brothers, is what he refers us to be. Find peace. Seek happiness. Become love. My friends, take it all in. Much love to you all.