@hcathledger / hcathledger.tumblr.com
Well, then you were fooling yourself, because pain and suffering is every day, and we are both still a trained killer. Except I’m not the one that’s on the cover of a magazine. I’m not the killer that little girls call their hero.
Washington Square Park, Lower Manhattan, New York City
Native english speakers will never know the joy of purposely talking terrible english in your native accent
18th january 2019
A Jedi’s strength flows from the Force. But beware of the dark side. Anger, fear, aggression; the dark side of the Force are they. Easily they flow, quick to join you in a fight. If once you start down the dark path, forever will it dominate your destiny, consume you it will, as it did Obi-Wan’s apprentice.
Star Wars: Episode V – The Empire Strikes Back (1980)
plot twist: you let someone in and they don’t fuck you over
*sits down*
dont you think its weird. dont you think its weird that the space race last time was two of the biggest powers in the world. and now its a handful of rich men. dont you think its weird they can afford that. dont you think its bad that rich men can afford the same things as the government.
dont you think its weird that while the world is suffering and poverty is everywhere, where there's wars and climate change and human pain and homelessness. the same month I've watched people die on the news from unbearable heat and unprecedented flooding. that a rich handful of men are going to space, causing more carbon emissions. dont you think its weird that instead of putting their vast amount of money to use for good they're using it to find a way off the planet theyre destroying.
dont you think its really fucking weird.
star wars meme: [3/5] movies ≡ the empire strikes back
Obi-Wan never told you what happened to your father. He told me enough. He told me you killed him. No. I am your father.
Harry isn’t quite out of his teens when it fully hits him—the war, the blood and the guts spread across the corridors of Hogwarts, the screams and sobs, the nightmares, the shadows that never seem to leave him.
It’s too much.
He gets a flat in London—Muggle London. Hermione and the Weasleys give him space. Kingsley ensures the wizarding world gives him privacy. Not that some aren’t reluctant. Rita Skeeter releases articles every day, wondering when their Boy Who Lived will return.
But Harry doesn’t see those articles.
He tries to forget who he is for awhile.
His flat is cozy. He stuffs it with plants and paintings and books. He has a cat (or three). He wears sweaters and blazers with corduroy pants. He goes to the market every morning to buy fruits and vegetables. That’s where he meets the kindly old woman who lives down the street.
She lived through World War II and so many other wars, wars that Harry has never experienced but can only imagine.
She goes to his house and she goes to hers. There’s always tea and small cakes and dinners and cocoa—apparently she believes that a teenager needs cocoa—and baking and reading and knitting.
Harry uses magic to brew the cocoa one day, not realizing that she’s standing in the doorway. She calms him by telling him that she knows all about magic.
Their conversations shift after that. They talk about their favorite creatures and how hard it was to watch them perish before their eyes. They talk about the wall that seemingly gave way to let them enter the magical world. They talk about lions and friends and family and love and betrayals and life and death.
“When did you leave?” Harry asks one day.
She pauses, a hand resting on his cat’s head. After a moment, she looks up with a heaviness in her eyes, a heaviness that Harry sees when he looks in the mirror everyday.
“I was young,” she says. “Younger than you are now. But I had already grown up. I didn’t want to leave, not really, but it became too much.”
“Do you regret it?”
“Some days I do, some days I don’t.”
“Yeah…”
It’s a few months later, when he’s helping her shovel the first snow from her walkway, that he asks, “Did you ever try going back?”
“Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t,” she says, shoving a cup of cocoa into his hands. “I was shut out as soon as I hesitated.”
He pauses, nearly dropping the cocoa, before whispering, “That’s horrible.”
“What about you?” She escorts him inside, her cane tapping against the floor that he’s magically heated to warm her feet. “Would you be welcomed back?”
“Oh, yeah,” Harry says. “Til they turn on me because they don’t like the color of my shirt or because I sneezed the wrong way or because—you name it.”
She laughs and he smiles.
“Imagine that,” she softly says. “Rulers of our worlds and we’re not even allowed in them.”
“Imagine that.”
He does go back to the wizarding world, of course, but he never forgets his London flat. He visits the street from time to time, knowing that Susan Pevensie will be there, ready to push a cup of cocoa into his hands.
1892 star map.
(✿◠‿◠)
love really just is *sharing blankets* *driving together in silence* *this song made me think of you* *i made them for you* *having the most fun just talking* *cold hands warm hearts* *i got home safe* *you said you needed one so i found one for you*
Teenager at a soda fountain, 1950. Photographed by Elliott Erwitt.
