#fandom friends

Lately, there’s been a twinge of pain in conjunction with Star Wars… Well, there’s a twinge of pain in everything since my dad passed, but it’s particularly challenging to feel it in association with this thing that I have long turned to for happiness.

It’s been hard to post; I haven’t felt the same excitement when I share or reblog, but I so desperately need that connectedness with all of you.

Last weekend, I made a spur of the moment decision to travel to a con. I thought it might be helpful to be around fandom people while maintaining anonymity; the chance to be a stranger and to appear to be fine - attempt to feel normal. But while the freedom and empowerment of the solo getaway seem to have been positives for my mental health, Star Wars was further tainted for me on this trip when I found myself in a situation with some very entitled and very rude “fans.” I don’t want to think of these people and the way they angered and upset me when I think of Star Wars. I need to get back to my comfort space, and I am asking for your help to do it.

YOU are a major part of what makes Star Wars such a joy. Please help me in getting back to a place where I relate this fandom with all the good things - the best things. I don’t really know what that will look like. Maybe some asks or replies about… anything Star Wars, really… my collectibles, my writing, whether that be comments or questions. Or tell me about your writing, or what you like to draw or create. Let’s talk ships or tropes. Or let’s keep it canon and tell me your Star Wars favorites or firsts, or ask me about mine. Characters, books, movies, series episodes… whatever might be fun for us to discuss - as an anon or yourself. I’m open to anything. I just need the reminders of those things that make me smile. I need to talk to you, but it’s been so hard not to isolate myself from the people that matter most.

"If…if your back and shoulder are hurting, I can give you a massage," he offers, grasping at straws. "Or you can try some of the medi—"

"I won't take pills for it, Roy. You know I hate that," she says coldly, turning back around on her stool, grabbing a tissue and wiping at her eyes, trying not to smear the makeup she already applied.

"I know you're stubborn," he replies before he can think better of it. It frustrates him to no end that she won't actually do anything to try to alleviate the pain. She always told him before the Promised Day that the scars on her back didn't hurt. He knows better now, and it breaks his fucking heart to think of it.

"It's not stubbornness not to want to be on drugs every hour of the day when I can handle it," Riza growls. They've had this argument so many times, but on the edge of the conversation they've just had, he loses his temper.

"Do you just want to be in pain?" he demands, standing and pacing across the room. "All this talk about being born flawed or whatever—do you honestly think so little of yourself? You wouldn't let me take care of you after I burned your back, and I was so fucking guilty over it that I let you push me away. Now it hurts you. All the time. Every day. And that kills me, Riza. It kills me to know that Envy hurt you because of me and that you're still paying the price for it. But what's worse is that you won't take care of yourself! First you won't take the medications. Then you won't follow the physical therapist's instructions." He puts his hands on his hips, glaring at her. "And now you're saying you want me to hurt you more? On purpose? You've got to be fucking kidding me with this shit."

She doesn't reply to him, and somehow that makes him even angrier. He doesn't think at all as he strides over to her and puts his hand on her shoulder, intending to make her turn around again and talk to him. But it's her left shoulder, and she lets out a surprised cry of pain. He lets go, holding up his hands in surrender and taking a couple of paces backwards.

"I'm sorry," he says immediately, watching as she takes in a ragged breath, staring down his reflection in the mirror. "I'm sorry; I didn't mean—"

"Get out, Roy." Her voice is calm and even—devoid of emotion in that way that makes the hair at the back of his neck stand on end.

"Riza, honey, I—"

She bangs her fist on the vanity table.

"I said get out! Go away!"