hogwarts houses as places in middle-earth

gryffindor: rohan
the home of the horse lords is where honor and bravery are held in high esteem, where the wind whips through your hair and there is always action to be a part of.

slytherin: erebor
filled with the resources needed to excel, the lonely mountain is the perfect place to follow your ambitions.

ravenclaw: rivendell
there’s nowhere better for a scholar than the place full of libraries, knowledge, and others eager to learn.

hufflepuff: the shire
the homiest, most welcoming place in middle-earth where you can escape all conflict and enjoy community and a good meal.



Armani Crews, who turned 6 earlier this month, had been begging her parents for “a few months” to feed homeless people in her community, but her parents thought “she was joking,” her mother, Artesha Crews, told ABC News.

“I said, ‘OK, we’ll make some sandwiches,’ to which Armani said, 'No. I want the same thing we’d have at my birthday party,’” her mother recalled.

Even when her father, Antoine, informed her that if she wanted to go through with this, she wouldn’t get a birthday gift, the girl, whose birthday was March 5, persisted.

So the Chicago family spent about $300 buying food to deliver to homeless people in the city’s East Garfield Park neighborhood. They purchased chicken, fish, spaghetti, corn, green beans, mashed potatoes, rolls, cake, cookies, fruit and water.

After Armani mentioned her plan at the family’s local church, congregation members donated other items to create care packages for the homeless. Each care package included a toothbrush, toothpaste, deodorant, hand sanitizer and a snack, such as a granola bar.

Armani’s birthday party was a success, with the family feeding more than 125 people who gathered.
In a statement, the kindergarten student told ABC News, “It was nice to be nice.”

Her mother added, “She was excited. She was happy. Everybody was being fed. …One of the gentleman said he hadn’t had a hot meal in a long time.”

Now the 6-year-old wants to host another community meal for the homeless. Her mother said the family plans to return to the park “within the next couple of weeks.”


Mama Gretchen’s Beginners’ Guide to Offering and Sacrifice

“Knowest how one shall write, knowest how one shall rede?
Knowest how one shall tint, knowest how one makes trial?
Knowest how one shall ask, knowest how one shall offer?
Knowest how one shall send, knowest how one shall sacrifice?”

–The Havamol (Bellows)

One of the most common sources of frustration for people who are new to Heathenry or who are resuming active practice after a long break is the act of sacrifice.  What makes an appropriate offering?  Which gods prefer which observations?  How should the act be performed?  Why would a god want anything that I have?

Now, in my opinion, the most important thing to remember here is that an offering establishes a very personal sort of connection between the person or group giving the offering and whatever wight (god, nature spirit, ancestor, et cetera) it’s being given to.  As such, the wight is going to be the final authority on what is and isn’t appropriate.  If you don’t have that kind of relationship, or aren’t receiving any signals, here are my tips:

A great place to start is to read up on whatever wight you want to build communion with, what sorts of items and deeds they’re associated with, how they may have been honored historically, and how contemporary devotees are honoring them now.  Thor, as one good example, is strongly associated with drinking alcohol, both in the extant lore and in a lot of people’s modern conceptions of him, so a bowl or horn (or can, bottle, cup, etc.) of your favorite adult beverage is something you can’t go wrong with.  Likewise we’re told quite explicitly in the stories that Odin enjoys wine; and just as a general thing, the sharing of drink as a way to build relationships is a very common motif throughout modern Heathenry.

There are a lot of wights about whom we don’t have a lot of that direct information, so you’ll have to divine or contrive the associations based on stories about the things they’ve done–and that’s just fine!  Whatever you end up doing is only “wrong” if it doesn’t work.

And about that:  A lot of folks will ask why the gods “need” this or that thing in sacrifice.  Well, they don’t.  But that’s not the point.  The act of sacrifice is meant to express love, devotion, and respect for the target by demonstrating your willingness to give of yourself–as such, as long as whatever you’re giving is something of value to you (even if that value is entirely sentimental), the intent is far more important than the thing.  The idea here is to build community and establish relationships, not material enrichment.

You really can’t go wrong with consumables–food, drink, sweets, even cigarettes.  I’ve always had best results with offerings that seem in some way appropriate, but really, “appropriate” is a relative term; that’s up to the wight of the hour, so trust your intuition.  I’ve been told by devotees of Loki that he’s a fan of sponge cake.

But an offering doesn’t have to be something like that, or even a tangible item at all.  The target of your devotion will appreciate anything made by your hand or craft, or anything you hold dear yourself or that you think they’d like.  I’ve done well writing devotional poetry for Woden, for one thing.  Whatever you’re giving, you need only approach your focus, whatever that might be–an altar with a picture or statue, or a plain altar, or anyplace that feels sacred to you—with a sense of reverence and respect, and give up your sacrifice with appropriate words. Again, “appropriate” is a funny word; most of the time, just something along the lines of, “Here, this is for you, I thought you might like it” will be plenty.

Now, a point of order:  Whatever you’ve offered up in sacrifice belongs to the wight of the occasion, it’s no longer yours, and it must be got rid of.

That doesn’t have to be as scary as it sounds, though; you certainly *can* ritually break something and throw it into a bog, if you *want* to, but you don’t have to.  There are a lot of ways to do that.

With offerings of food or drink, my favorite thing to do is return it to the earth in some way, by pouring out, burying, or exposing–If you like historical precedents, Ahmad Ibn Fadlan reported that the Kievan Rus would rejoice when dogs came to eat the food offered to the gods, because they saw it as a sign that the offering had been well received.

Burning is also a good option; not only is the offered thing got rid of, but also the act of burning can be seen as symbolizing a transmutation from the physical to the spiritual.

If none of these are an option, there’s nothing wrong with putting offerings in the trash or down the drain; that’s what you do with your own leftovers you aren’t going to finish, yeah?  Just make sure it’s done with the same respect and reverence as the act of offering was; try viewing it as a separation or disavowal rather than disposal.

And you *can* eat the food or drink the beverage yourself, but that’s a different sort of sacrifice; call that sharing a communal meal, rather than giving a gift.

For less tangible things, I consider my devotional poetry to be “got rid of” when I’ve posted and shared them, sending them out into the aether.  And a devotional deed is “gone” once you’re done doing it.

If you’re giving an object that you’re hesitant to break or throw away, that’s okay, too; you can “get rid of it” by considering it a sacred object that you’re now borrowing, and so shouldn’t be used for mundane purposes.  A statue or some other kind of focus is a good offering; it can sit right on your altar, and depending on your spiritual tradition you might’ve just given your wight a nice place to live when they’re visiting.  Knives make good athames.  Tarot decks, kitchen implements, anything else “witchy”; it’s a great way to build spiritual relationships and consecrate your tools at the same time.  And you can come up with a special new purpose for just about any item, if you think about it.

You can generally expect to get some benefit from your offering, but you shouldn’t expect anything specific unless you have a very, very close relationship with the target of your offering, and you should never treat it as a quid-pro-quo relationship.  The idea here is to build a mutual relationship, and whether that means a friendship or the relationship of client and patron, demanding one thing in exchange for another like a financial transaction is pretty friggin rude.

Ultimately, gift-giving and sacrifice are fundamentally personal things; in individual practice, it’s between the wight and the practitioner; in communal practice, it’s between the wight and whatever in-group.  So, what you should or shouldn’t do depends on a lot of things–the particulars of your spiritual path or tradition, the nature of whichever wight you’re offering to, the relationship you may or may not have with them, your living situation, and so on.  All I have to offer are tips and suggestions; at the end of the day, the best advice I can give you is to trust your instincts.  If it feels right, it probably is.

Im on a “Get Out” date night. We’re gonna discuss the struggles within our community over a nice meal, then watch the “Get Out” movie and chill afterwards and get high as fuck.

@youre-on-a-starship - “I’ve got to get my two cents in for this request event: Can you write a Bones fic in which he and the reader finally meet over a communal meal (a holiday perhaps?) and end up bonding because she’s got a rare medical condition that he’s interested in? I love your writing so much; I am unabashedly jealous of the realism you cultivate in your discussion of medical situations. It’s absolutely mind boggling and your writing is exceptional. Lots of love ❤️ ” I will also need to do a little research on this one, but the thoughts are flying fast already.

Word Count: 1892
Author’s Note: I found researching OI pretty interesting, and I definitely have a better idea about it now. I hope I did your request justice :) (And thanks for answering all my questions!)

“Y/N, were you in medbay today?” Your roommate, a nurse who would have known if you’d been hurt, asked as she came into your shared quarters.

“Obviously not,” you replied. “Why?”

“Bones was reading your chart. I thought maybe you’d gotten hurt,” she offered.

“Uhura to Y/L/N, are you free?” You dug your communicator from your hip and flipped it open.

“I’m kind of precariously balanced on the wire rungs of the J-tube, but sure, Nyota, what can I do for you?” You knew she would catch the sarcastic tone.

“I was just checking on you. Medical accessed your personnel file this morning, and I was worried that you’d had an accident,” she responded. “Back to work, before Scotty finds you goofing off!”

“Y/N, join me in my office,” Scotty gestured to a storage closet. It was the running gag, that he’d converted his actual office into a workshop of sorts. When he needed to have official conversations with any of the crew under his command, he’d pull you aside into a secluded corner, a closet or take you down to water reclamation, where it was so noisy, you were guaranteed privacy. You stepped in ahead of him and waited as he found the lights and shut the door behind himself. It was close quarters, and you arched your eyebrow when he started fidgeting with his hands. It was a lot closer than you were used to.

“Scotty, what’s up? Is it the repair on the -”

“No, no, nothing about your performance,” he cut you off. “Are you quite healthy right now?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you assured him.

“Your zero grav sessions are helping?” He pressed. Part of the reason you’d been assigned to a ship instead of grounded was because it was easier to access the therapy your body required to maintain health. As a toddler you’d been diagnosed with a mild form of Osteogenesis Imperfecta. There was a genetic treatment available, and your parents had taken advantage of that, which had strengthened your ability to create the collagen that was absent in OI patients, but you still needed regular physiotherapy to ensure adequate bone density. Space was a crapshoot because the artificial atmosphere meant there was constant real pressure on you and your bones, which was both emotionally and physically draining. But the opportunity to spend a half hour every evening weightless, floating in the safety of an empty cargo bay was one that you were unable to pass up. For a half hour, you were free, with no cares, no worries, no risk. And each session, somehow, for reasons you didn’t understand, strengthened what little collagen you did produce, making your bone density improve enough that you weren’t terrified of scampering up Jefferies tubes when necessary.

“Yeah, Scotty, life is good,” you confirmed. “What’s this about?”

“Doctor McCoy was down here asking questions. I know M’Benga did your intake physical. It made me wonder if you were declining and afraid of telling me,” Scotty explained. “You know you’re too valuable to let go, Y/N. Even if you need to be on light duties for a while, I will be keeping you here in engineering.”

“Really, I’m fine, Scotty,” you asserted. “I trust you. You’re the first person I’d tell if anything were up.”

“I’m not pulling your leg, lass,” he asserted. “If you need extra time away from shift for physiotherapy, or would like reduced duties -”

“Scotty, I’m fine,” you interrupted. “Really. I appreciate all your support. But there’s nothing any worse than usual happening.”

“I’m relieved to hear it,” he nodded, and suddenly realized how cramped the closet was. “Let’s be out of here before people assume the worst.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, and you winked as you walked out ahead of him, deliberately adjusting your skirt just to give him a hard time. He sucked in his breath to protest, and then coughed, drawing even more attention to you both. It was a good thing that everyone in engineering was used to Scotty’s unorthodox use of whatever space he could find. No one even blinked. “Are you headed to the Federation Day celebrations this afternoon?”

“If you think I’m going to pass up real food, you’re out of your mind,” you replied. “I saw the quartermaster’s delivery while I was fixing that malfunctioning door in the cargo bay. There were bananas. Real, perfect, honest-to-god yellow bananas. And I heard a rumour about steak.”

“We’ll see you later on then, Y/N. Save some bananas for me,” Scotty laughed.

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voltron+food headcanons!!! bc why not!!!!!:::

  • hunk is seen as the most ‘food’ centred character bc yes he does love food but a huge factor for him is the experience of food!! he likes the act of setting up communal meals and bonding over making food and getting snacks to watch movies with or going to lunch with someone he just really loves how it brings people together nd it always has positive connotations for him tbh !!
  • lance fairly enjoys food and the food/socializing combo that hunk does except lance is. just. So Distracted by people he’ll walk around talking to someone with a sandwich in his hand for like 40 minutes and the other person will be side-eyein like u gonna….eat that or……and at meals shiro CONSTANTLY has to be like ‘lance sit back down’ and lance will be like ‘oh yeah, yeah, cool’ and then TEN MINS LATER shiro will be like ‘lance finish your food’ bc hes FORGOT AGAIN and h o n e s t l y
  • pidge is still in that Super Picky phase that younger kids kinda go through. she’ll be grateful for food but she’ll play with it for 20 mins rather than say anything and shiro will be like ‘pidge whats up?’ and pidge’ll be like ‘oh! nothin, nothin….’ and shiro will be like ‘……….’ and pidge is like ‘just uh…whats this. Green Stuff. on the side’ and shiros like ‘its vegetables and its good for you’ and pidge is like wrinkling her nose and shiro is like :))) you literally ate them yesterday why are ppl :))) testing :))) him :)))
  • the team is collectively sure keith has like. zero taste buds. did the sand wither them away. is it an adaptive mutation. no one knows?? like he will literally eat Anything you place in front of him ANYTHING and eat it with a straight face like ‘yo thanks for the food’ and everyones staring at him like……surely not….surely he jests……the team thinks this is in equal parts hilarious and disturbing so they give him increasingly questionably edible stuff until one day they give him something like lol guys wanna watch keith eat this weird rock flower i found and he does but it makes him INCREDIBLY sick for like a week and shiro has to intervene like ‘keith is the equivalent of a dog that will eat what u give it bc it doesnt know any better. is it entertaining to watch the dog eat chocolate toffees bc it cant chew them? yes. yes it is. but we are Responsible pet owners.’
  • the team learns the hard way shiro is fiercely protective of his food. he doesnt mind sharing at all as long as you ask or he offers. if u steal chips from his plate tho. boi………wyd………shiro HATES himself for doin this he just really really cant help it ?? in a way that makes him kind of panicky like he just needs space when he eats and hes fine its fine okay!!
Was The First Thanksgiving In Florida?

On September 8th, 1565, more than fifty years before the famous Pilgrims and Wampanoag “First Thanksgiving,” one Spanish Admiral Don Pedro Menéndez de Avilés waded onto a sandy shore in Florida. A number of curious members of the indigenous Timucua tribe watched as he kissed a cross, then claimed Florida for both his God and his country.  Avilés was not alone, but had brought 800 new colonists with him. They were there to start an outpost of the great Spanish Empire. The colonists set up a makeshift alter, still watched by the Timucua, and celebrated a thanksgiving Catholic mass performed by one of the priests they had brought along, to bless their safe arrival.

Then the Spanish and the guest Timucua sat down for a communal meal. Was this the “true” First Thanksgiving? It could be argued both ways. In the end, what I take away is that the Pilgrims’ claim will always be disputed.

aka how not to give yourself scurvy in freshers’

Utilise your freezer.

Freeze everything. You’re going to be buying - and hopefully eating - for one, so there’s potential for a lot of waste. I’d recommend buying frozen vegetables so you’re not wasting money on produce going bad. If you buy something you know you’re not going to be able to finish before it goes off, freeze it as soon as you buy it - meat, half your loaf of bread, leftovers. I’d recommend freezer bags rather than tupperware for storage, though, as they are a lot more malleable and mean you can smoosh more in - especially with leftovers. Just make sure they’ve cooled down to room temperature before you put them in the fridge or freezer.

Shop with at least some idea of what you want to eat that week.

Otherwise, you’re going to end up with a bunch of ingredients and miscellaneous snack foods that can’t really be compiled into any sort of balanced meal. If meal prepping’s your thing, do that, but you can still be financially savvy eating more than one thing for dinner that week. Always have staples in - pasta, rice, canned beans, passata or canned tomatoes, and frozen vegetables - and you’ll always be able to work something out in a pinch.

Cut down your meat intake.

Meat is expensive. Multiple portions of meat a day is not only bad for your health and the planet, but it’s unnecessarily expensive. You’re not going to die of a protein deficiency if you cut out meat a couple of times a week - chances are, you’re over-consuming protein anyway and there’s no scientific data about what that may mean for your long-term health. Learn to love - or at least tolerate - chickpeas, beans, and lentils. You’ll be grateful for the fibre.

Be considerate.

Don’t be a knobsack and leave your dirty crockery strewn over your communal kitchen. If you spill something - especially something sticky, or potentially hazardous - clean. it. up. If you do not trust you’ll be awake by the time it finishes cooking because you’re as good as black-out drunk, DO NOT PUT THINGS IN THE OVEN/TOASTER. Your entire halls will hate you if they have to stand outside in the pissing rain at 2am on a Thursday because your stupid ass forgot about the toast you’d put in and it set the fire alarm off.

Also, don’t be that person that dumps all their washing up in the sink ‘to soak’ and leaves it there for three days. You will end up with cockroaches or food poisoning.

Set ground rules.

I’m not saying there has to be a minute-by-minute schedule or cleaning rota, but sit down with your flatmates and discuss the kitchen rules. Who gets what cupboard/fridge shelf? Is borrowing utensils or food okay, and under what circumstances? Are you going to have a communal meal a week, and who’s making it? How long is it okay for washing up to sit out on the side for before it needs to be done? You are all grown adults now - sit down and talk about what you’re all okay and not okay with, and find an arrangement that suits everyone.

Make yourself eat at least a couple of portions of fruit and vegetables a day.

It’s not hard, it’s not expensive. Sure, you may not like broccoli, but I guarantee you also won’t like having rickets. A banana with breakfast, some beans on toast for lunch and a serving of peas with dinner is sufficient. Eat vegetables first to get it over and done with, so you can enjoy the culinary masterpiece that is chicken nuggets and smiley faces without the nagging side of green beans.

Avoid liquid calories as much as possible.

You’re probably going to gain weight in university. Sure, a lot of that weight-gain will come from Domino’s after a night out or free food at the SU, but a sizeable chunk will come from alcohol and/or caffeine. I’m not saying don’t drink these things, but consider cutting your intake down or making smarter choices - black coffee or an Americano rather than a sugar-loaded flavoured latte, and using calorie-free drinks as mixers, and going steady with the beer.

Likewise, watch your squash or fruit juice intake. A glass of squash has about 90 calories, and a small glass of juice about 150. Drinking exclusively squash or juice over plain water is a surefire way to pack in extra calories without realising.

Learn a few basic recipes before you leave for uni.

There will be a night you get in and you’re exhausted, but do not want to eat fish fingers for the third night in a row. A basic pasta sauce takes fifteen minutes, a chilli can be ready to eat in half an hour, and for the love of god learn how to cook eggs. You do not want to be scrubbing burnt omelette off your frying pan while the smell of sulphur stinks out your entire flat.

Adhere to basic kitchen hygiene.

Label your meat and put everyone’s on the bottom shelf of the fridge so there’s not potential for contamination. Do not put warm or hot food straight into the fridge. If you do not have a fan oven, let it come to temperature before you start counting the recommended cooking time. Wash your hands after handling raw meat, and don’t chop anything on a cutting board used for meat that you’re intending to eat raw. Don’t eat previously cooked rice more than three days after cooking - and make sure all reheated food (especially dishes containing rice and/or meat) is piping hot all the way through. Microwave your dish sponges.

Sharing a kitchen can be a stressful experience. Not everyone has basic etiquette, or the same eating habits, and there’s always the potential for conflict. But at the end of the day, as long as you’re all being mature and considerate, it’s totally manageable to survive a communal kitchen without wanting to stab your flatmate. 

Remember also that food is fuel, and you are now in charge of what you’re consuming. Eat like shit, and you’re going to feel like shit. You’re an adult - and that means you’re going to have to eat like one or else face the consequences. 

anonymous asked:

I am a PR Account Executive for an inner city non-profit, and FUCK you for saying PR is all a game. You're scum. We dedicate our lives to bring attention to their plight, and you degrade an entire industry because you're mad Darren and Chris won't bend to your expectations. Disgusting.

Well well. Mad much? Someone sounds bitter. Amazingly enough I don’t think I personally have said anything one way or another except that pr is a game. Yet you seems to think that I want to dictate how Chris or Darren should act? *goes back and looks* funny I don’t seem to have anything I personally posted that says anything about forcing Chris and Darren to behave as I see fit. Sounds to me that whatever it is that you believe, something has you doubting and so you get bitter.

I mean far be it for me to say oh yeah the pr looks amazing when you have public relations shots after repeated snaps of a certain female with her real bf “Oh Ben look at her” and butt naked in lingerie on snap (i know nipples when I see them, I have a set myself)

Let’s see since you want to go there, I’ve started not 1 but 3 non profits. One feeding homeless and needy families in my community where we provide meals every weekend as many of these families depend on schools to provide two meals a day during the week to their children, another providing children entertainment while they receive chemo and other therapies (multi state project), and my personal favorite a shoe project. Everyone thinks of coats but rarely think of the fact that many children in this country do not wear shoes that fit and many women and men do not have proper shoes for interviews or their work environment. (We also try to provide several suits each month for interviews for adults)

I am very well aware that pr is a game. How else do you think we are able to get the donations we get? How else does one sell themselves to companies for product hauls and testing. How else does one end up being the face of a product?

First thing I learned at disney and warner brothers is pr is end all. It’s not about what you do but what you can make others believe.

Sounds like someone is trying to be all up in the kool-aid without knowing the flavor.

But please tell me again how I don’t understand prs game.

anonymous asked:

Keith listening to Shiro's captain logs.

i could go angst or porn with this but. heres Some ANGST

Shiro still hasn’t been found.

It’s only been @%$ days, Keith reminds the wrenching hole in his chest, but it still hurts. The others are similarly tense, though they haven’t been holing themselves up in Shiro’s room or avoiding every communal meal. Keith knows, because he hears the footsteps outside and the clink of plates being set aside for him.

(“I know you’re in there, Keith,” they say again and again, “You haven’t eaten for &#% days.”)

He doesn’t know how many days it’s been.

It helps to loop the recordings he has of Shiro on his tablet. There are some from the Garrison, of Shiro describing the constellations above them, narrating his flights with all the aplomb of a sports commentator, pretending to introduce their desert shack to prospective buyers.

Keith muffles a sad snort in his palm. He knows every second of these recordings; they’d been part of what kept him sane back before Shiro’s return to Earth.

He has newer videos, too, taken when Shiro was snoozing beside him, or when he’d just woken, hair a bird’s-nest on his head. Keith curls up under his blankets, staring at Shiro’s embarrassed face.

The first time Keith steps outside, his legs take him downstairs and directly to the Lion’s bunkers. He watches in almost-regret as Black opens its maw to let him in.

Thanks, Black.

Shiro’s not sat at the helm, but the Lion wakes with a quiet purr anyway, displays shifting before him as he tries to settle in the seat.

[View recordings?]

Cursing under his breath at how responsive Black is to his needs, Keith selects the prompt, hugging his knees to his chest as files upon files of logs appear before him. He doesn’t recognise the alien dating system, but he’s right in assuming that the first is the earliest.

[Hello, it’s – uh – the Black Paladin, Shiro, here.]

Shiro looks bright and hopeful on the screen, reporting in as though he’s never recorded a log before. Keith hasn’t seen the Kerberos ones (locked up in the Garrison), but whenever Shiro had helped him on a flight sim, he’d been clear and confident in his recordings. Keith follows the shape of his moving mouth with blurry eyes.

The recording doesn’t include the chaos outside, none of Lance’s shrieks, Keith’s grumbling. It’s almost peaceful, listening Shiro’s commanding voice. Keith rests his tired, tired head on his knees.

[… currently on the way to Balmera X – 95 – Vox.]

[… responding to a distress signal – Lance! What are you doing?]

There are hours more logs than his own videos. Keith has half a mind to fall asleep, Shiro’s occasional shouts doing little to startle him. Maybe Black will finally yield some answers, the longer he stays in here.

No one stumbles upon his hiding spot for an entire day.

(feel free to send me more fic prompts)

ao3: catpoop

kofi: x

You know how you start writing one fic that you get stuck on and then start writing another that you’re weirdly insecure about and so on ‘til you end up with over 3000 words of Monastery!AU SilverFlint CrackFic? [nods]

Warnings: Mature content. Non-native speaker writing here. Notes: Zero research went into the making of this fic. Additional Notes: Thighs.

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Yesterday evening I was spending time with some friends in town. We stopped at a community meal for dinner and while we sat there, one of my two friends started talking about someone he didn’t like because of a set of circumstances I could not get him to describe.

Eventually, I asked him this: “What does hating someone accomplish in the long run?”

He looked at me for a moment and shrugged.

I went on to explain that life is short and that each of us has limited time here. Then I asked him if he wanted to live his life bitter and sullen or live it free and happy; living with hatred in you feels as if a heavy stone is on your back–you can’t soar if you’re weighed down.

At this point my other friend, being the comedic type of chap he is, makes a hilarious remark about me being the next big-time spiritual sage of this era and we share a good laugh. Afterwards, the friend who hated a certain person actually called them and resolved their issues within a couple moments.

This is the kind of thing I live for. If I can bring a little light into the world, why shouldn’t I?

So let me ask you, what does hate accomplish in the long run?

anonymous asked:

out of kylo n hux, who would be the best cook?

KYLO. 100% Kylo. I feel like he would hang out with & eventually help the droids in the kitchen when he was very little & his parents were away for long stretches of time. And at Luke’s school I would think that he’d have to help with the rest of everyone contribute to simple but hearty communal meals. And there’s no way he’s just sticking with the bland, nutrient packed meals of the First Order, he’d def pick up all sorts of exotic food & ingredients he’s used to on missions so he could make his own meals. Hux meanwhile…his idea of “cooking” is rehydrating instant ramen or ordering whatever is on menu from the officer’s kitchens. Kylo def introduces Hux to flavorful meals (often too spicy for Hux) & cooks for Hux often when they are together.

Welcome to Mute Laboratories

Facility Tour Master-post

Enclosed below is the official tour of my giant-friendly and tiny-friendly facility, Mute Labs!

Just wanted to say that I was blown away by the amount of interest generated from the sneak-peak yesterday!  Really appreciate it, especially considering my inconsistent activity in the community as of late ^^; I’m hopeful that the interest was from the concept itself and not from the…I think, misconception that some people had that the ‘world-building’ involved was linked to this project of mine becoming a video game…cuz it’s not, sad to say >.> Just a fictional community with which to link future g/t fluff shots and innovative ideas ^u^

As always, I’m open to ideas and questions!  Hope y’all enjoy!

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oh amy, i hear the song of your sadness. you’ve lost someone i think.

One of the things about Sherlock that I find a little bit funny is that despite him being a genius, and quite extraordinary tbh, he still is remarkably relatable.
I guess I find it funny because of how many times I’ve seen people talking about him as if he was a completely unrelatable character (I’m still wanking about dfp characterization, yes, I’ll never stop).

Look. I can relate to this dork who sucks at communicating, who skip meals and has a fucked up rhythm of sleep, who sulks and is vexed, who care about people and about what people think of him, who’s socially anxious and who cries a lot when he’s not rude (unknowingly and against his will), who doesn’t always get social conventions, who overthinks, who sees the world in his own way, makes bad jokes and likes humour noir (black humour, is that how it’s translated?), jokes only a very limited amount of people will laugh at, who has “odd” fields of interest, who is seen as awkward, who uses jokes as a defence mechanism when he’s anxious, who bottles up his feelings, who’s depressed and at the same time who can laugh to tears and jump in excitement, who lets his inner child express itself, who bicker with his brother, who has known rejection and hatred, and bullies, throughout his life, and who has an inalterable affection and dedication to his loved ones, who falls in love completely and passionately, who values loneliness and can’t stand to be alone, who values logic, morals, justice, loyalty, science, arts, music, friendship, kindness, love. And even if I’m not actually gay but bisexual, I also relate to Sherlock for this.

Sherlock is a very relatable character, as much as John is, despite the feeling of surrealism he can sometimes give because he’s basically one of the cleverest people in the world and lives the most incredible adventures; and I can see myself in him a lot - it’s actually with Sherlock I identify with the most, and that since the very first time I watched the show, that’s what makes me empathise with him (and not only understand him through analysis and basic psychology and sociology knowledge). I wouldn’t be able to relate this much if he was the cold sociopath and calculating machine some people think he is.

anonymous asked:

Do you know anything about worshiping Nyx in the modern world?

In the category, ‘questions I got ages ago and am only now getting to’…  Nyx (Νυξ) is the deep Night, born from Khaos (Χαος) and the sister-wife of Aither (Αιθηρ, ‘Light’). In Hellenic mythology, Nyx draws a veil of darkness between the shining atmosphere of the aither and the lower air of earth (aer) at set times in the day, bringing night to man. In the morning, Her daughter Hêmera (Ἡμερα, ‘Day’) removes this veil, and exposes the Earth once more to Light. As Hesiod writes in the Theogony: 

“[At the ends of the earth, where lie the roots of earth, sea, Tartaros :] There stands the awful home of murky Nyx wrapped in dark clouds. In front of it [Atlas] the son of Iapetos stands immovably upholding the wide heaven upon his head and unwearying hands, where Nyx and Hemera draw near and greet one another as they pass the great threshold of bronze: and while the one is about to go down into the house, the other comes out at the door. And the house never holds them both within; but always one is without the house passing over the earth, while the other stays at home and waits until the time for her journeying come; and the one holds all-seeing light (phaos) for them on earth.” [744]

Nyx and Hêmera continually work to both create and dissolve darkness on Earth; Selene (the Goddess of the Moon) moves with Nyx, and Helios (God of the Sun) with Hêmera, as heralded by Eos. In this recap, it is quite obvious we are yet missing a speciffic time of the day: dusk, or the evening. This was in the domain of the Nymphs, in this case the Hesperides (Ἑσπεριδες), who—depending of source—are either the daughters of Nyx or Atlas. Diodorus Siculus, in the 1st Century BC., wrote in his ‘Library of History’: 
“Now Hesperos (Evening) begat a daughter named Hesperis (Evening), who he gave in marriage to his brother [Atlas] and after whom the land was given the name Hesperitis; and Atlas begat by her seven daughters, who were named after their father Atlantides, and after their mother Hesperides.” [4. 26. 2]
Yet, older sources agree that the Hesperides (amongst others like Hypnos and Tartaros) were born from Nyx; Hesiod, for example:
“And Nyx (Night) bare hateful Moros (Doom) and black Ker (Violent Death) and Thanatos (Death), and she bare Hypnos (Sleep) and the tribe of Oneiroi (Dreams). And again the goddess murky Nyx, though she lay with none, bare Momos (Blame) and painful Oizys (Misery), and the Hesperides who guard the rich, golden apples and the trees bearing fruit beyond glorious Okeanos.”   In ancient Hellas, Nyx was only rarely the focus of cult worship. Pausanias mentions She had an oracle on the acropolis at Megara, but that is about it. More often, Nyx was worshipped in other major cults, alongside the main deity: there was a statue called ‘Nyx’ in the Temple of Artemis at Ephesus, the Spartans had a cult of Sleep and Death, conceived of as twins, with Nyx being worshipped as Their mother, etc.   As for modern worship; I have talked before of how I feel all worship is pretty much the same in Hellenismos. The major difference between reconstructive religions and modern ones—especially Pagan ones—is the way worship is conducted. Individual worship of Gods as well as patronage is perfectly acceptable in modern religions, but in Recon religions and the ancient Traditions they were based upon, worship tends to be of the pantheon, not so much the one God or Goddess. What goes for one Olympic God, tends to go for the others as well.   There are five steps to proper, Hellenistic, ritual: procession, purification, prayers and hymns, sacrifice/offerings, prayers of supplication and thanks, usually followed by a feast and/or theatre and sporting events. We can apply this to modern worship quite easily: procession (no matter how short), purification with lustral water (named khernips), a hymn, song or modern poem which praises and draws the Theos in question, a sacrifice of some kind—be it incenses, (mixed) wine, meat or anything else—along with barley seeds tossed on the altar or into the altar fire, prayers or words of thanks, and—in communal rituals—plays, games, or (sports)-competitions. Within communal celebrations, the sacrifice can be some of the (raw) ingredients used to prepare the communal meal that will follow.   Hellenismos is not glamorous; in general, you do the same thing over and over again with minor variations. That is what I love about it. It’s simple, clear, and repetitive. As for Nyx, in the Orphic Hymn to Her, torches are prescribed as an offering, and Gods of the night tended to be worshipped at that time as well. Not always, naturally, but the dark night is Her domain. Bring her sacrifices of wine and try to include Her children and husband in your worship as well. Good luck!
On Clan Lavellan

@destinyapostasy only had to poke me 15 times to get me to write this. This is a recent history of Clan Lavellan made specifically for my story Metu Vincta. I might do more meta for the other clans that appear in the story at some point, if anyone’s interested :P


How Lavellan came to Wycome

In 9:09 Dragon, Clan Lavellan passed through the area of Tantervale in their travel across the Free Marches. They had barely been encamped two weeks before the Lady Chancellor called on her husband to drive them from their land because the aravels “muddied the landscape”. (The Lady often enjoyed painting the riverfront). The Lord Chancellor dispatched the city guard and Clan Lavellan escaped with just under half of their 80 members still living.

The clan lost their First among those killed by the Lord Chancellor and during the Arlathvhen of 9:10, it was decided that Vehra of Clan Carian would be moved to Lavellan to fill the gap. Vehra joined the clan in 9:12 after settling affairs with her young son Isanami and sending him to become Second of Clan Vaharel.

In 9:14 Vehra bore a second child, Senna.

By 9:16 Lavellan was situated on the western bank of the Minanter River across from Wycome. Duke Antoine was quite pleased to have them, as he considered the Dalish a curious novelty. He often made requests for recipes and food samples from the clan to taste their cuisine. However, two years later a misunderstanding arose concerning the disappearance of the Duke’s nephew and, in a rage, Antoine sent his guard to kill as many of the clan as possible, thinking they were responsible for his nephew’s death. (It was discovered a few years later that the boy had eloped with a merchant’s daughter to Starkhaven)

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