community picks

Ok I just finished Power Rangers (2017) and I don’t think Allistics quite understand how important it was to see Billy (the blue ranger) portrayed the way he was. 

In media, there’s generally only one kind of canon autistic. And by canon I mean “The source material uses terminology that references autism or outright states said character is autistic”, and Billy straight up said “I’m on the spectrum” which is how many of us say “I’m autistic” without actually saying it’s Autism Spectrum Disorder. He also said “No it’s a diagnosis” when he missed Jason’s (the red ranger) joke. 

So we only get one (1) kind of autistic in media. What kind is that? Well look no further than Sherlock “I’m a high functioning sociopath” Holmes of BBC’s Sherlock. That is usually what we get. A genuinely horribly written person who treats his peers like trash because he believes he’s smarter than them, and is given ~mystical Autism powers~ [read: he’s really good at logic and things] because of the fact that he is Autistic. 

We generally get the white boy who likes trains, is good at math, and treats people badly (if an adult) or is a “problem child” if a minor. 

Billy is a black autistic teenager. Now I’m white, I should say that straight up, but it is super important that we see black autistic characters. Why? Because people of color are massively under diagnosed with autism. The reasons for that vary, it could be resources (getting diagnosis is expensive), but a lot of it does have to do with racism in the field of psychology. It’s important for young black autistics to be able to see people like Billy on TV. To be able to think “That’s me. I could be a power ranger to.” 

Not once was Billy shown to be a “problem child” at all. He was a Soft Boy. He has special interests, trouble communicating and picking up on social cues. A few times there I thought he was going to cry from the stress of everything and when the bully at the start of the movie broke his pencils I felt what he did because I was in his situation once upon a time. He was distressed and if it wasn’t for Jason stepping in I have no doubt that the bully would have pushed him to tears. 

Billy was the reason everything took off. He found the coins. He was able to map out where the crystal was. He was the first to morph!!

He wasn’t this egotistical jackass who treats coworkers like they’re disposable silverware, he was a real person. He was a real autistic person. 

And seeing someone like him, being himself and was unapologetic about it! And when he did face shit for being autistic, both times the bully got fucked up. It even went the extra step of making the bully a running gag for getting hurt and tbh I don’t give a shit about a bully’s feelings I’m glad it was a running gag. 

Billy is so important, and I need people to understand we need more people like him in media at large. 

I lied. I’m not out of this relationship. I’m in. I’m so in, it’s humiliating because here I am, begging. Okay.. Here it is: Your choice? It’s simple. Her or me. And I’m sure she’s really great, but Derek.. I love you. In a really, really big pretend-to-like-your-taste-in-music, let-you-eat-the-last-piece-of-cheesecake, hold-a-radio-over-my-head-outside-your-window, unfortunate way that makes me hate you, love you. So pick me. Choose me. Love me.
Debt

Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion had answered a distress call. It had probably been stupid on xir part, but what was done was done.

A small ship, even smaller than xir, had crashed on a barren but breathable-to-most-species moon in the system of Hyaldnar. Xe had been making a delivery for xir mentor when xir communication system picked it up, and since xe was barely past adolescence, the journey of not even five rotations was making xem bored and seeing a crash site would be exciting. After all, it was probably an automated distress call, nothing could survive a crash to a rocky moon.

But there xe was, standing in front of a crumpled and burned wreck and the very much alive creature that had crawled out of it after perceiving xir pod landing. Imirrim cursed xir rotten luck, now xe would have to help the poor thing. Xe had been planning on just sight-seeing the wreck a bit, maybe later contact whatever species it had belonged to to tell it had crashed, if only to look good in front of xir mentor.

After a while of the creature gawking and baring it’s teeth at Imirrim, xe recognized the species as human, the fifth longest living space-faring species. Still, xe belonged to the second longest living, and Thalmors like xemself could outlive five humans each born at the moment of the previous one’s death. What had especially stuck from xir exobiology and alien anthropology lessons was humans’ way of expressing their emotions in strange and backwards ways, and their sheer capability to holding grudges. Great.

Imirrim approached the human slowly. It was approaching xem right back, still showing it’s teeth like it was attacking, but but humans expressed their emotions backwards, so that was good, right? Besides, the human was wounded and limping, and xe could outrun it if things went bad.

“Finally someone answered my call,” the human -a male, xe guessed- said as Imirrim was close enough. “I’ve been here for a week and I’m running out of water.”

A week? How was he alive?

“Oh, where are my manners,” the human said and extended the less damaged of its upper limbs towards Imirrim. “I’m Thomas Warren, from the human colony on Clyzma Al Carrim, farmer by profession.”

Imirrim carefully extended a cheliped to mimic the greeting, and did xir best not to flinch when the human grabbed it and shook it. “I am Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion from planet Skismin, apprentice to the Grand Navigator.”

“It is very nice to meet you,” Thomas said and shook xir cheliped some more before finally letting go. “You mind taking me off this rock?”

Imirrim shifted xir weight from a foot to another to a third. “Sure.”

“Great!” Thomas said and pulled his lips even further back, revealing even more teeth, more than could possibly fit comfortably into a mouth that small. “I’ll be right back.” He limped back into the small shipwreck.

Imirrim was regretting this. It wasn’t customary to help strangers, especially from other species, since there was no telling what they could do. Humans had a reputation of being unpredictable, especially when wounded. And this ‘Thomas’ was covered in wounds, some looking much too severe for anyone to possibly survive.

Thomas emerged from his wreckage, carrying something that was clearly important if he was willing to retrieve it from a wreck while severely wounded. “So, Imirrim, was it? Where are you headed?”

Imirrim led the human to xir pod and helped him climb over the threshold. “Back to Skismin. You can get better help there.” If he stayed alive that long.

“Lovely, you’re a real life saver,” Thomas chuckled. “I’ll owe you one.”

To Imirrim’s surprise -and relief- Thomas did not die during the two rotations’ travel back to Skismin. He talked xir auditory membrane off and after a while filled the pod with the faint stench of alien blood, but all things considered he wasn’t the worst passenger. Once xe had docked the pod back on Skismin and had helped Thomas and his bag of belongings (which turned out to be an assortment of small possibly decorative items, data storage devices, clothes, and even a few ordinary rocks one could get anywhere but that were apparently ‘cool’) to the nearest emergency clinic, Thomas turned to xem one last time.

“If you ever find yourself in a bad spot, call me,” he said with a serious expression xe had come to recognize during their time at the small pod. “I owe you my life, just call and I’ll pay you back.”

Imirrim stared after him for a long while before turning away and heading to tell the Grand Navigator that hir delivery was received and thanked for, and to tell xir mentor about human Thomas Warren.

After xe had told hir what had passed, Imirrim asked one last question. “Master, what does it mean when a human says they 'owe their life’ to someone?”

The Grand Navigator’s age-reddened crest rose curiously. “Like you probably know, humans are known for holding grudges and for being almost insensibly loyal. While they keep in mind all wrong that has been done to them, they do not forget a good deed done to them either. 'Owing one’s life’ means you have done something to them that they regard highly of, usually the saving of a life, and that they will do anything in their power to, as they say, 'return the favor’. Did this Thomas say this to you?”

Imirrim nodded. “Right before he went with the medical staff, he said he owes me his life, and all I need to do in a time of distress is to call him and he will come.”

The Grand Navigator raised hir upper chelipeds in a sign of pride. “You have done well, my apprentice. To earn a human’s favor is a feat of great bravery and compassion. One day, you shall become a fine and daring Navigator, like the explorers before us.”

Imirrim ruffled his crest at the praise. Maybe answering the distress call wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

Time went by, and Imirrim progressed from an appearance to a novice and on, up the ranks, and eventually landed a spot as the head Navigator on the long trade ship Pochella, traveling at high speeds through barely charted nebulas and dangerous asteroid fields. Xe plotted courses through the densest of rock fogs and past dangerous gravitational pulls, and not once did his calculations for the course fail.

Xe had lived many more cycles, many more than a human could ever live. Imirrim had counted- xe had kept a distant eye on Thomas Warren in case xe would ever have a need for the favor he had claimed to owe xem, but the need never came. He had died fifty-seven cycles after xe had rescued him, or seventy-two years, as humans counted time, and even more time had passed after that.

Still, even after all this time xe looked back at him for courage when daily life was hard and xir spirit was down. Xe had met and worked with humans many times now and they all shared the same spirit Thomas Warren had had, but none of them had left quite the same impression on xem as Thomas, who had smiled and joked through nine rotations on broken bones and told fondly of his family and farm back on Clyzma Al Carrim.

Imirrim had plotted a course through a particularly dense asteroid cloud, a course that would save the ship a lot of time and fuel. The ship was nearly out of the cloud when the proximity alarm went off and something clamped into the ship’s hull. The computer showed xir an approximate hologram of the something. It was a smaller and armed ship attaching itself to their ship.

The Cieruna members of the crew -small, short-lived, and feathery things with nimble hands and a sensitivity to electromagnetic fields- were screaming in terror. Pirates, they yelled, we can’t shake them off, we’re all going to die. Shush, xe said, we will not die. I’ll call for help, be quiet.

Imirrim galloped to the unoccupied communication post and sent a distress message on all frequencies. “This is Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion, head navigator of the trade ship Pochella. We are inside the Halfway asteroid cloud. And we are under attack by pirates. Please help us.” Once the message was sent xe stepped away from the console and joined the crew in listening to the magnetic creaking of their hull in the morbid silence that had followed xir call.

The ship could not move, following the already plotted course with the extra weight and bulk of the pirate ship attached to them would be suicide, and finding a new safe route out without knowing the exact dimensions of the other ship was impossible, not to mention useless against the threat. All xe could do was hope for a miracle.

And a miracle xe got. Another proximity alarm sounded, and the computer showed an image of a charging mining pod, ten times smaller than the pirate ship and at least a hundred times smaller than Pochella. Outmatched, outgunned, it rammed the pirate ship and despite being hit by their lasers and missiles, it kept on pounding it with its grappling arms and mining lasers and asteroid bombs, everything it had. And finally, when the pod was leaking air and plasma and fuel into space, the pirate ship released its hold and retreated, engines sputtering and its hull dented and battered, and flew away from Pochella and the mad mining pod to safety of the asteroids.

“What was that? What happened? The Cieruna chirred and cheeped. “It is gone! We are saved!”

Imirrim was still looking at the hologram screen. The mining pod was all but destroyed in the short but fierce fight. Someone exited it, wearing a spacesuit and carrying something, and the pod engaged it’s barely functional engines and sped away leaving a trail of debris and smoke in its wake, until it finally exploded from the damage it had sustained a safe distance away.

Imirrim stared at the hologram for a moment, and shifted xir weight from a foot to another to a third. Xe input a code to the control panel and opened a small airlock near the creature that had saved them all. Xe set off from the bridge where xe was posted and galloped through corridors and climbed down stairs, until xe arrived in front of the airlock that had already closed and the creature that had successfully boarded the ship.

“Are you Imirrim-Chæma-Thiridion?” The creature asked. Xe nodded, all the while looking the spacesuited being up and down. Four limbs, two for walking and two for holding. No tail, short neck but a neck nonetheless. No added room for fins or spikes or crests. It was a human.

The human handed their possession to xem -a lumpy bag that both felt and looked like it had rocks in it- and pulled off their helmet.

The human was ruffled and grizzled and had spark burns on his face and his eyes were serious, but he was baring his teeth in a joyous smile. He extended a hand to greet xem and Imirrim took hold of it and shook it.

“I am Stepa Warren,” the human introduced himself. “You rescued my grandfather from a shipwreck when he was young. He spoke fondly of you til his dying day. It is an honor to meet you.”

Support bi people who have a strong preference for women

Support bi people who have a strong preference for men

Support bi people who don’t have a strong preference for any gender

Support bi people who are only attracted to women and nb people

Support bi people who are only attracted to men and nb people

Support bi people who are attracted to women, men, and nb people

Support bi people who are bisexual or biromantic but not both 

Support trans and nonbinary bi people

You don’t get to decide who’s “bi enough”. Support ALL bi people.

Apples and Heroes

Originally posted by kissthejotun

Request: Can you please do a Star Trek story with Bones and the words “an apple a day keeps the doctor away”, “your pulse is weak,” and “all the apples in the world wouldn’t stop me.” They aren’t in your prompts list I hope that’s okay? Thank you!

Keep reading

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20.4.17 [10:03pm]

Hey how is everyone? (•ө•)
I’ve finished my last bullet journal from an architecture talk by Norman Foster (amazing btw) so I’ve started a new one using a gridded muji notebook. For the holidays, to make sure I’m studying to a certain length of time every day, I’ve created a “Studying and tutoring meter” where I highlight parts of the grid indicative of how many hours I’ve spent revising and attending tuition. Hope everyone’s Easters have been great!! ⌒°(❛ᴗ❛)°⌒

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Community Appreciation Week: day 3: favorite episode- Studies In Modern Movement
 ♪ Jesus loves marijuana  ♪ Jesus loves marijuana ♪ Jesus loves marijuana ♪  and drinking human blood, oh ♪

there is NOTHING , NOTHING ! i hate more in this vile world than intellectual elitism first of all the assumption that everyone is going to college or will finish college is nasty

second of all, you dont NEED college to contemplate theory or participate in discussions of art i personally know like 20 million people who are intelligent and astute and constantly learning who never went to college, dropped out, or who are projecting going but haven’t gotten there yet; self education is Valid as hell

college is a Luxury with a capital L and trying to shut out voices on the basis that they dont have a $20,000+ diploma is SO reprehensible and rooted in classism/racism/ableism etc etc

THIRD OF ALL, it is even MORE wild, that someone who HAS this luxury could go through 4+ years of the instruction and community college offers without picking up any sense of social responsibility, without deigning to take advantage of diverse perspectives 

like maybe, before you tell people to wait until they’ve taken a college course to discuss something that they find to be problematic or personally uncomfortable or yes Racist, take course on race theory or postcolonialism and figure out what the fuck you’re doing wrong

This is a very quick transcription of a basic spirit gratitude ritual that we do here for our companions at MM. Note that this may not work for every entity (some of our darker counterparts have said something along the lines of “Come on, what am I? An Overlord of Cake?” though most get the gesture and that is what matters.)

This is a small dedication ceremony, so the purpose is to give thanks, and to assert (for the first time, or again on an anniversary/birthday, etc) your intentions with them and what you hope the friendship blossoms into.

You can absolutely do your own variation of this, make it into a party, or really make it yours!

What you will need:

Three Plates/Bowls/Platters

A Coin

Two tealights or small multipurpose candles

Incense or Singular Purpose (Not used elsewhere) Candle

Cinnamon

Tea or Wine (Water if you have neither, or milk if you prefer)

Offerings such as Cake, Candy, Crystals, Seeds, Flowers, etc.

A hand-drawn sigil or heart that has been cut out of the original paper or is on a smaller piece of paper.


Steps:

1. Lay the three vessels out. Two of them are for any food items you may have or wish to share, so if you aren’t sharing, you will not need them both. We usually share, as it feels more communal that way, which is an energy many entities like. This is up to you and your friend!  Arrange them in a triangle with one at the top and two diagonally out from either side. 

2. Place and arrange any food items or personal offerings on the two plates, serving them first, and then yourself. If you are using gems, or something inedible, you may still do this symbolically if you wish.

3. Place the two candles on either side of the top plate. Welcome your entities forth as you cleanse the space and consecrate it. Take this time to ground and shield so that you are interacting only with the energies you are welcoming into the space.

4. The Dedication - Have the coin, incense or single use candle, cinnamon, and wine/beverage handy. You may change the phrasing if you wish! State “This is my dedication to you, ____. These are the promises I wish to keep to you, as a friend, as a companion, and as a human counterpart. I thank you so much for choosing to stay here with me, and to help me on my Earthly journey. I value you and look forward to growing alongside you. – Insert any personal dedications here-

5. Place the coin on the top plate. Say something along the lines of “Let this coin symbolize the wealth of our friendship, and the richness that comes from having you in my life.

6. Light the candle or incense and place it on the plate. [Dorm folks can use battery candles!] Say something along the lines of “As this flame alights, I thank you for providing a guiding light and inspiration in my life. Let it symbolize the enlightenment that comes from our friendship.

7. Place the cinnamon on the plate. Say something along the lines of “Let this cinnamon represent the grounded, sturdy nature of our friendship, and the sweetness that comes from working with one another.”

8. Place the beverage on the plate. Say something along the lines of “As the river nourishes the earth and allows for growth, so do we inspire growth and enlightenment in one another. Take this libation as my thanks for being a teacher and a friend.”

9. Lastly, place the hand-drawn figure or sigil on the plate. Say something like “Let this sigil represent the time and effort I dedicate to you as you have dedicated to me. This friendship involves work and passion on both parts, and this is my dedication to you that I will do what it takes to show you the love and respect you have shown to me

10. Say any further prayers or dedications, and feel free to bring out tarot cards at this point and allow them to communicate through that or other mediums of scrying or divination. Leave out the offerings as long as you like, bury them in the earth, or consume them if the entity is understanding and if you cannot afford to waste. Know that portions of offerings do not need to be huge, it truly is the thought that counts. 

Note that you can also use apps such as Ghost Radar or Echovox if you use those types of programs, as communication seems to pick up at this time. 

We like to do this on saturdays and follow it with divination, wine/beer, and treats. You can also do it with other spirit companion friends of yours and bring different entity families together! This may not be the perfect schematic for all spirit families, depending on cultures, needs, and preferences, but hopefully it will give you a good outline!

We wish you much love, light, and laughter!

-MM

Originally posted by hppybday2u

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Fitness for me lately has consisted of rock climbing. Every Wednesday, my pals and I meet for a queer/female climbing group, and after a few weeks, I finally caved and got a membership so I can go more often. My upper body/arm strength has improved TREMENDOUSLY over barely a couple of months, it’s so wild. I feel so strong. Combined with the almost complete elimination of gluten and dairy, and my body is pretty stoked on itself. I’m pretty stoked on it, too.

anonymous asked:

okay so i asked someone already and they were an asshole about it. since you are a witch mom, maybe you can explain?? why can't we call them spirit animals?

Originally posted by 2009wasagoodyear

This would be the part that the lights would lower and all eyes would be on me as I roll in a white board.  Anyway…

See, darlin’, there is thing and it is called CULTURAL APPROPRIATION.

*The very words echo off the walls of the empty auditorium.*

By definition, cultural appropriation is the adoption or use of the elements of one culture by members of another culture.  Let’s take the United States and use it as an example…

Because people from hundreds of different ethnicities make up the U.S. population, it’s not surprising that at times cultural groups rub off on each other. Americans who grow up in diverse communities may pick up the dialect, customs and religious traditions of the cultural groups that surround them.

Cultural appropriation is an entirely different matter. It has little to do with one’s exposure to and familiarity with different cultures. Instead, cultural appropriation typically involves members of a dominant group exploiting the culture of less privileged groups–often with little understanding of the latter’s history, experience and traditions.

“Borrowing” is a key component of cultural appropriation. In the 1950s, white musicians borrowed the musical stylings of their black counterparts. Because African Americans weren’t widely accepted in U.S. society at that time, record executives chose to have white recording artists replicate the sound of black musicians. This led to musical forms such as rock-n-roll being largely associated with whites in spite of the fact that black musicians were pioneers of the art form. This move also had financial consequences, as many of the black musicians who helped pave the way for rock-n-roll’s success never saw a dime for their contributions to the music.

Onto the more witchy aspects of this…

The term Spirit Animal, as used by young adults today, is a bastardized version of a Native American tradition.  The word’s loss of meaning is damaging to the concept of tradition, especially one as regularly plagiarized and demeaned as the traditions of Native Americans. Religion and belief is something to be taken seriously, and when it’s corrupted by pop culture and turned into something it shouldn’t be, then that’s where the damage starts to set in. 

I am nowhere near qualified enough to go into the importance of the term, and by no means do I want to generalize Native Americans as a singular identity, especially since Spirit Animal is not the same for every tribe. However, I (and many of my other witchy peers, AKA those assholes you speak of) do feel like the inappropriate use of the term is something that should be pointed out more, since most of the time people don’t know how problematic certain language can be.

Alternatives to “spirit animal” could be: personal totem, Patronus (ha!), familiar, and so on and so forth.

And by the way, I do have three personal animal totems I refer to in my craft.  I used to say “spirit animals” when I was younger and I quickly realized how offensive it was because I, a mixture of some very weird Cajun-Creole/Black Irish, am not Native American.

Hope this helps.

TL; dr: If you appropriate other cultures, YOU are the asshole.

how embarrassing

for day 28 of @snowbaz-feda

word count: 820

Simon feels anxious because he’s at a huge magical event, but Baz unknowingly distracts him.

other feda fics:  DAY 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 10 | 14 | 15 | 26

Baz

Simon and I are sitting in a pew and waiting for the world’s trashiest wedding to start, but he can’t sit still. I’ve tried asking him what was wrong, but he’s not talking. Which means I have nothing to do except look at the familiar faces of every other mage in attendance. They invited the entire magical community, which must have cost a fortune, and the wedding is an aesthetic mess. Its so atrocious that I feel embarrassed to even be associated with it.

Simon

Nearly every person near me went to Watford. I only vaguely recall the couple who is getting married, but they remembered me well enough to send an invitation. Baz’s father said that this is a society event, and I decided to attend to eat some free cake.

I want to leave, but I promised myself I would stay.

I can’t sit still. Why hasn’t it started yet?

I feel the hum of everyone’s magic around me, and its a constant reminder that I’m not one of them. Not really. Do they know I don’t have magic anymore? Would they take back my invite if they knew?  

Baz sits next to me, whispering critiques in my ear, but his tone suggests that he’s enjoying himself.

“Are those carnations? Crowley.”

The red wings on my back feel like a neon sign. I left them exposed because I wanted to attend as myself – a Normal, with a boyfriend, wings, and a tail. It was easy to be brave before I came here, but I don’t feel brave anymore. I feel like an impostor. I feel like I’m lying. I’m not magic, and I’m not part of this community.

“I could have picked better flowers while walking here, and it’s January.”

I could ask Baz to spell my wings invisible; he’s become pretty good at the spell.

“There’s too many balloons. If you’re older than five, you’re not allowed balloons.”

No, I told myself I would come here as myself. Invisible wings wont change anything. I can do this.

“Snow, our wedding will be much better than this,” Baz mutters.

Baz

Fuck. Two lovely blue eyes now gape at me in horror.

Dating Simon for a year has been great. Charmed. A year of bliss that I wouldn’t trade for anything. Except that it was easier to keep my mouth shut a year ago. I’m eight years ahead of him with my crazy thoughts.

I gather the last shreds of my dignity and sneer. “We wouldn’t marry anytime soon, obviously.”

His eyes grow wider.

“You have a time table?” he asks, and I drop the sneer because I have absolutely no dignity left.

Simon

Baz slumps in the pew and I strain to hear him say, “Well, you don’t have to agree to it, of course.”

I’m surprised that someone would think about marrying me, especially Baz, who knows how much of me is missing. I really want to know what is in his head.

“Tell me about our wedding,” I say, matching his posture to be on his level.

He quiet for a long while. Sometimes Baz takes awhile to plan what he wants to say, but other times he closes up completely. I don’t know which type of silence he’s having now.

Baz

I wish I knew a teleportation spell. Or time travel. Can embarrassment kill vampires? Simon is being quiet. so I can’t change the topic. I have to say something. 

I say, “We’d have cherry scones, of course.”

Simon laughs, a watery exhale. When I look at him, I see tears in his eyes. Those tears keep me talking.

“The ceremony would be at night and in the winter, and preferably it’s snowing. To represent our names.”

“You’d freeze,” he says.

“Not with the suits I have in mind.” I tell him about these truly be spectacular suits I found online, and some details that Trixie told me about the uses of pixie magic in such events. I can’t believe he’s listening to my insane ideas. I’m now aware that I’ve said far too much and abruptly shut my mouth.

There’s a beat of silence. Enough of a pause to reconsider teleportation spells.

Simon breaks it by gently asking, “You’re being real? You actually want to marry me?”

He bites his lips, fidgety and shy, and I’d marry him now if this room wasn’t so horrendous. “I’m fond of you, Snow.”

“But marriage. I’d be part of your family. You dad would be my father in law…”

I’m reminded that I don’t even know Simon’s birthday, let alone who he is related to. He was adopted by The Mage but still lived in homes. Marriage means a lot to Simon. I tell him, “I’d do all that with you, if you wanted.”

Music starts to play, and the bridal party queues down the aisle. Their dresses are more horrendous than I imagined. 

Simon whispers, “Are we engaged?”

“Crowley, no. I’d get you a ring. Snow, when I propose, you’d know it was happening. You wouldn’t have to ask.”