The veil came down with a crack, a loud rolling thunder. He smiled to himself, a thousand years suddenly lifting from his shoulders as the tingling of magic settled on his skin.
He turned back, ready to embrace what he thought he once lost; she had been standing in the same meadow, watching him as he dismantled the enormous spell, praying for him to make it.
And he did. He made it out whole and alive; he looked to the sky and laughed, a bubbling giggle setting the tone for his future.
Now they could live an eternity together,  although he still considered it too short.

What he did not expect was that the crack and the rolling thunder had sent a piece of debree right through her shoulder, but it was wrong; it faced tilted down and had pierced her heart.

They were supposed to be immortals, the wolf and his halla, but bloodloss and one non-beating heart was something only magic could cure.
Magic he couldn’t muster no matter how hard he tried, only small sparks of veilfire caressed his now dying love.
No, he had whispered. It was not suppose to happen this way.
She caressed his cheek and said that her love for him would still be immortal and with her dying breath she mustered a “ma serrannas.”.
He had howled loud enough to wilt all the flowers in the meadow, and split the sky in two with the broken shouts of his regret.
They say the wolf was never seen again.

“But he did manage to save her?”

“No, da'len, he did not. But he saved part of her, and he was thankful for that.”

“It is a sad story, papae. I don’t like it.”

“Neither did he. But he made the best of it.”

anonymous asked:

As another Jewish person I'm gonna have to disagree and I'm kind of am a bit hurt by the fact that you heard that description with not mention of him being Jewish and immediately thought it was anti semetic. There's more to me that a stereotype and part of dismantling stereotypes is using those traits for character of other races too. I feel a bit like you're using us to further your SJW credentials or something. A little hurt and I say this as someone who likes your blog.

hey i can appreciate the concern here, but i most certainly did not hear the description of him and then decide it was antisemitic. this is something that has been brought to my attention by many, many Jewish people (some whom i know personally, some whom i just follow on tumblr/see the posts of) years after i read harry potter.

i get what you’re saying about “using jewish people to further my SJW credentials” - that’s a really valid concern, and whilst i don’t think i’m doing that (i really do believe in just making the world a better place; until very recently this blog was run anonymously so it’s not like it would get back to me personally) i will make sure to think long and hard about things before doing/saying them, and i will keep that in mind. thank you for your input.


The wrinkles of youth were playing

in the garden of adolescence 

where stubborn roots make their way through infinite bouquets

of blades of grass

piercing the innocence of the horizon

wandering hearts

that have bled before

meet in this verdure

to bleed together

while we wait for a boat on the shore of a lake

on the shore of life

to come retrieve yesterday’s dew

because the unspoken’s remains

dwell in us

dismantle us

at every quiver of the waves

at every shiver of the waves

pieces of faith bloom

only to fade

when will the flower skim the greenery?

Copyright © 2017 Margaux Emmanuel

there’s a lobbying group called “hobson’s pledge” in new zealand advocating for “colour blind” policy because they think māori are favoured by government policy.

their definition of colour blind policies include: ending “affirmative action”, dismantling the waitangi tribunal, abolishing māori seats/electorates and believe that māori gave up their sovereignty to the british fair and square.

there’s not even any affirmative action in this country, just laws that ban you from refusing to hire people based on their race. they’re just white supremacists who are trying to claim “we’re all one people now” while ignoring the fact that the process to making us one people was colonial genocide.

Remember that fic “Stormy Weather”?

That’s what I think of with Owen Wilson’s Cars 4 “thriller” idea.
Think about it. The rookie and the veteran team up as equals and grow a stronger bond by the end. The tension. The stakes. That vibe.

OBVIOUSLY it would be all minus the “two racecars are drugged and captured to be dismantled for parts and sold on the black market”, there’d be a much lighter conflict, but it’d still be something much more challenging than Cars 3.

Like, if Stormy Weather was a mere note, it would be a good note to hold if a “thriller” concept was ever adapted. (And hopefully, it would be very lightly done, as a tie-in to the racing, with racing being the main plot)

My assessment of the Power Rangers
  • Jason: troubled cinnamon roll, too young to be having an existential crisis
  • Kimberly: sassy boss ass bitch with a mean streak
  • Zac: caring and crazy son of a gun
  • Trini: smol angry lesbian bean
  • Billy: protect my son at all costs
Depth of Cloud’s Grief


kanojo no shi ga amarini mo kanashikute , sono imi o shiroto shinakatta .

“Her death was too sad, and [ I ] couldn’t understand.”

(Dismantled,  p.175)

Cloud says this after learning the meaning of Aerith’s death. I know it’s pretty obvious that Aerith’s death was heartbreaking for Cloud, but I find it really sweet and incredibly sad that Cloud admits that he couldn’t understand the meaning of Aerith’s actions because her death was so sad it was all he could really focus on. 

[ Note: Also, the above translation is my own and translated very literally. To me, it sounds childish to phrase the sentence “her death was too sad”, while that’s the literal translation, I would rather translate the connotation of the sentence, which is along the lines of “I was so sad after losing Aerith that I couldn’t understand the meaning of her sacrifice”. To me, that’s the more accurate translation because it sounds less childish. Shippers might get angry if you don’t use literal translations, but IMO you can use either. ]

We see this repeated in the original game as well as Maiden of the Planet.

Cloud: …Shut up.
The cycle of nature and your stupid plan don’t mean a thing.
Aerith is gone.

Cloud tells Sephiroth that his plan to destroy the entire planet didn’t matter anymore simply because Aerith was now dead. To me, this has always indicated that Aerith was what Cloud loved most and now that she was taken from him, he saw no point in continuing on with the battle to save the planet.

There’s also this quote that shows Cloud started to close himself off from the others after losing Aerith:

[ ティファ:ガスト博士の家で]

Tifa: “From that point on [from Aerith’s death], Cloud became reticent. He wasn’t very talkative before, but now during the trip north, he only talks if it’s absolutely necessary. I can’t [seem to] console Cloud.* He didn’t just lose Aerith, a piece of him also seems lost…..”

(Dismantled,  p.167)

[* My own translation again—literally, she has no words for him, but the meaning of Tifa’s words is that she can’t console him so that’s what I went with so it sounds better.]

Then in Maiden of the Planet, we see Aerith consumed by Cloud’s heartbreak.

But a cry came through to her.

It wasn’t the sound of her cry. If it was then she would have felt the blood gushing up through her throat and the fury that forced its way out from the depths of her soul - It was the sound of Cloud’s heart cracking. It was the cry of his heart that could never be healed of the grief he had towards Aerith’s death, the blame towards himself and the hatred he had for Sephiroth.

She was surprised at the great sorrow he had for her. She was a little happy that he thought so much of her but she also felt the pain that was many times greater. There was nothing she could do about Cloud’s suffering and the pain ached in her heart.

The pain continued even though she was in the Lifestream.

At the moment that Aerith died, it wasn’t her own pain of losing her life that she felt most, it wasn’t the pain from any of the other millions of people on the planet—it was Cloud’s pain that was so strong that it was all she could feel, even during her own death.

To me, that has always been so telling. For Cloud’s pain to be the only thing she could feel at that moment means that no other feeling from humanity was nearly as strong. And then to make it even more sad, even though she was in the Lifestream, because of Cloud’s suffering, Aerith’s heart ached in pain.

Anyway, Cloud’s heartbreak over losing Aerith is really sad and I hope we get to see this and so much more executed in the remake.


the false equivalence between anger from the far-right and the anger from the left who are being attacked daily by those same people, is both cruel and manipulative. republican conservatives and democratic party centrists keep arguing that the left has a “rage” problem as though being angry about vast inequality and suffering is irrational. as though the left being concerned about the increasing violence after the rise of trump is the same as far-right bigotry itself. bernie sanders has never incited violence. saying that trump is dangerous is not the equivalent of hate speech.

if someone lives in the current political and economic system and isn’t angry about the cruelty and inequality that it produces then they are incredibly privileged and willfully ignorant. i am wary of people who are not angry and who don’t want to be politically active. what kind of person sees the police brutality against black people and feels nothing? what kind of person learns that 5 men own more than half the wealth of humanity and isn’t angered by that fact?

the progressive left is also made up of millions of women and poc who centrists like to erase to fit their “bernie bro” narrative. the left is trying to bring about change by dismantling white supremacy, patriarchy, and capitalism. and we are not just angry. we are demonstrating, peacefully protesting, advocating for progressive policies, and loudly standing up for the most vulnerable in society. it is something the left should be proud of. we will not be silenced because it makes conservatives and centrists uncomfortable. the truth is that the establishment doesn’t want the system to change because they make vast sums of money from it, and as long as we comply with their demands it won’t.

we should refuse to be vilified for speaking out against racism, sexism, and inequality. and we should see the smears against bernie sanders and the progressive left for what they are: centrist elites in the democratic party trying to hold onto power at any cost.

I heard a rumor that butches have access to the world of men by virtue of their polished boots and perfect Winsor knots
Some tragedy tells me that they are the pretend women; the women born wrong; the women-not-women
who inhabit a spectral plane where they wear shackles identical to mine but cannot name the cage they’re in

I heard a lie that butches are men in a bad plastic mask
That their privileges include public hisses, leering eyes, and strangers plodding close behind
I heard that butches sink venom
into femme women
into straight women
into whoever passes by their street corner
at which of course they are leaning against a brick wall with their thumbs hooked into their Dungarees

(But this is not about my fantasies)

I was told some tedium
when I was a baby gay
salivating over Stephanie with the chain wallet and the sneer
who spoke against the cruelty of boys in my class
when I was sold the snake oil that butches were hiding in the shadows
with lighters
waiting to burn my bra
But here is what I have learned:

Butches swing bats against true predators
scaled monstrosities preying up and down the block
They have dug their heels in for my right to call myself a lesbian
to free me from every constricting dress and shapewear that men would otherwise cram me into

I was always good enough, small enough, big enough, loud and quiet and sour enough

A butch woman taught my public school sex education class
and gritted her teeth when her students asked about barrier methods
hands tied by the confines of simply needing to pay her rent
so no she could not dismantle the system
But, she said,
“If anyone–anyone–Has any questions, my office is open”

Butches ask me if I’m doing okay when I’m in a new space
They ask me to dance
if I feel safe
if I need to get a cab home
Butch women have been the ones to catch my terrified stare when I have Shrodinger’s rapist standing next to me on the subway

because you don’t know
until you know

Butches love flowers,
split the bill
whisper sweetly to their cats
secretly sleep with teddy bears

Butches snore like sleeping dragons and bite like them, too
but only when their homes have been invaded
caved in, gutted
and carved beyond recognition

Butch is not a liminal space
a go-between
Butch is a force to be reckoned with, but if you let it, then the rain will come
and everything good will grow from the ground
The rain will come

The dyke rages on.

—  Dan Yell, @anarchism-lesbianism

Commission for @inarelashionshipwithmyself

Lance had been cranky the last few weeks. On it’s own that wasn’t too unusual, Lance got cranky about the weirdest things.
About running out of the good face masks and having to use different ones that Allura gave him. About the mice not being in the mood to play with him when he wanted. About getting too little sleep. About getting too much sleep. About an alien he’d never seen before and never would again rejecting his embarrassing advances.
But usually his mood brightened again as quickly as it had soured and this lasting slump was starting to worry them.

Keith wasn’t the first who’d noticed it, he hardly ever was when it came to these things. But after Hunk had addressed Lance’s recent attitude and he’d started to pay attention, the signs couldn’t be ignored anymore.
Usually Lance chattered endlessly during their meals and meetings, now he hardly ever said a word, leaving the group as soon as he could where he’d despised being alone for long periods before.
He seemed tense during training sessions, focused but way too stubborn to really make anything out of it, the slightest mistake throwing him off for the whole day. Keith had caught him more than once on the training deck, using it late into the night, expression hardened and determined.

Whenever Hunk or Shiro or, lately, even Allura tried to talk to him he’d put on a cheery mask and pretend everything was fine before retreating to the shooting range to utterly destroy every target the ship gave him.
Keith didn’t know what to do, didn’t know how to reach Lance if not even their most empathetic team members could. He hadn’t felt this helpless since he heard the reports about the Kerberos mission failing.
Until the afternoon he was paired up with Lance for hand to hand combat training.

“That’s – okay, that’s enough”, Lance spat, squirming helplessly where Keith had him pinned, one hand tapping a fluttery rhythm against the floor. “I yield! Fuck, I yield!”
Keith furrowed his brows, not used to the other boy giving in this easily, but he still stepped back, offering Lance a hand to help him get up.
Lance scoffed and slapped the hand away, pushing himself upright. Frown deepening Keith watched him.

“You okay?”, he asked, wiping sweat from his forehead. They’d been sparring for a while already. Where Lance had been almost tenacious in the beginning the fire in his eyes had subsided with every failed try to overpower Keith, every time it was him tapping the mat instead.
Now he leveled Keith with an icy glare but instead of getting back into stance he turned away.
“Leave me alone”, he mumbled before he left the training deck.

Shiro perked up from where he was pinning Hunk against the floor, the yellow paladin about to twist free from the hold and counter it when he also noticed Lance’s retreat.
Allura stepped forward, hands on her hips as she called after him: “Lance! Lance, we’re not done, where do you think you’re…”
“It’s okay!”, Hunk called, having used the distraction to free himself and scramble to his feet. “It’s okay, I’ll go get him!”

“No”, Keith said, body moving before he could even think about it. “I’ll go, I’ll talk to him…” He could feel their eyes on him, skeptical and unsure. Could hear the breath Hunk took, the careful “Um, Keith buddy…”
But he just shook his head, going for the doors.
“I got this.”

As expected he found Lance in his room, already changed halfway out of his armor, the leg pieces still clinging to his body.
“I told you to leave me alone”, Lance mumbled, no emotion to be heard in his voice, but Keith still stepped further into the room, arms crossed and face determined.
“Yeah”, he answered, taking a look at the helmet and armor pieces Lance had put on the table for now. “But I wanna know what your deal is. You’ve been … weird.”
Lance huffed a dry laugh and shook his head.
“I’ve been…? No. Nothing. No deal, everything’s just … peachy.”

“Bullshit.” Keith shook his head. “You can tell Hunk and Shiro that. Because they want to … respect your privacy or whatever. But something’s wrong. I wanna know what.”
Lance groaned, throwing another armor piece onto the table.
“What, so you can feel even better about yourself? Just go away!”
Keith huffed and leaned a hip against the desk, trying to catch Lance’s gaze but the blue paladin already turned away from him again.

“Listen”, he began, not quite sure where this would lead but just going with it for now. “Just because you can’t beat me at hand to hand doesn’t mean…”
“Hand to hand? What can I beat you at then?”, Lance spat, whirling around to finally meet Keith’s gaze and there it was again, that fire he’d seen at the beginning of the training session. “You’re the amazing pilot, the martial arts expert, the brave one everybody loves and wants to be like! What else is there, what else … what else can I contribute?”
Keith frowned.

“You … you want to be like me?”
“Oh piss off!”, Lance cursed, turning away again with an exasperated huff. Slowly but surely Keith began to suspect he really wasn’t the right one for this job, that he was only making worse. Maybe he should retreat and send one of the others instead, to settle what he’d done wrong.
“I’m … I’m not good at this”, he began, already setting up to excuse himself when he had an idea. “At uh … talking to people. When they’re upset.”
“Oh really…” Lance’s voice was dripping with sarcasm but Keith pressed on.

“Or just in general. I just can’t seem to … connect with others. I’m not good at that. You are.”
Even though Lance’s back was turned to him Keith could see how he froze, head tilted a little. Listening. He took his chance and went on.
“Remember when we were on that desert planet and neither Pidge nor me could convince the aliens to let us evacuate them? But then you came in and only needed two minutes with their leader to make them trust us?”

Lance shook his head.
“You were still wearing your helmets, that was rude to them.”
“Yeah but we didn’t know! We never would have figured that out if you hadn’t!” Keith took a careful step forward, around Lance, to look at him again. Some of the tension had seeped out of the other boy’s shoulders and his expression wasn’t quite as hardened as before.
“Yeah”, Lance mumbled. “You guys would’ve been lost without me.”
“We would have been!”, Keith insisted, still not sure what he was doing, only that it seemed to work at least a little.

“And … and that’s not the only thing! You’re … you’re a great shot. An incredible shot! There’s a reason your bayard is a rifle and mine is for close combat. You’re our long range guy, yeah? You don’t have to beat me at hand to hand when you can beat me in a shooting competition any day. And your bond with your lion…”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. Lance rolled his eyes and shook his head.
“Yours is better. The things Red does for you, it’s crazy…”

“Oh god!”, Keith groaned, throwing his arms out. “Stop comparing yourself to me! You’re your own person! And you bring your own skills to the team! We all need you and if you can’t see how much Blue adores you, you’re an even bigger idiot than I thought!”
There was a pause, Lance squinting at him as if deciding to trust him or not. Keith stubbornly held the gaze.

“You mean that, don’t you?”, Lance asked after a while, expression shifting from suspicious to thoughtful. He sucked his lower lip into his mouth, biting down on it.
“In case you haven’t noticed”, Keith said, posture relaxing again. “I’m also a really bad liar.”
Lance huffed another dry laugh at that but the creases around his eyes vanished as he relaxed.
“You really are”, he smiled tentatively and Keith couldn’t even bring himself to be mad at him. Not when he just coaxed a smile out of Lance. The first one in weeks.

Then Lance reached out to take his hand, squeezing it tightly, and Keith was way too surprised to react. The grip around his fingers was strong and warm, oddly pleasant.
“Come with me”, Lance said, tugging him towards the door without a care in the world for his half dismantled armor.
“What … where…”
“Shooting range”, Lance answered, completely nonchalant with a little shrug. “Wanna beat your ass at something right now.”
Keith snorted but let himself be dragged away. If that’s all it took to make Lance smile again he’d lose a hundred shooting competitions against him.

[This fanfic was a commission! Check out how to commission me or consider buying me a Coffee if you liked this story!]

You know that part in the cartoon where the bad guy punches someone right in the jaw and breaks his own hand, and he screams and grabs his hand, and then suddenly looks up as he slowly realizes just how immeasurably he screwed up as his target glares back at him?

I think that’s what’s happening with Trump and the United States Government right now.