high quarter


So. The Silver Stallion, or as our Australian friends prefer to call it, The Silver Brumby.

There are just two problems with the title.

You see this horse? This is the silver stallion - except he’s not silver … and he’s played by a mare. 


- Kate

What A Deep Voice You Have

Context: A male wood-elf and a female dark-elf are breaking into temple to find information. The dark elf is digging around the High Priestess’ quarters while the wood-elf keeps watch

A blind cleric starts coming down the hall towards the wood-elf, pausing outside the High Priestess’ quarters when she senses someone standing there

Cleric: “Reverend Mother, is the that you?”

Wood-elf: *in his deep voice* “…yes?”

*we all die laughing*

DM: roll for deception

Wood-elf: *rolls a freaking nat 20*

a short unpolished elsewhere fic

Students who sought out contact with the Fae at Elsewhere University where normally rejected by other students, I was no exception to this rule. The faeries at Elsewhere where the trickster type who liked to steal people, make wagers, and steal people. My first year at elsewhere had been hard for a different reason- people didn’t accept who I was. I very much looked like a typical boy and talked like a typical boy so they all thought I was a boy, this lasted about a week. When I thought people where starting to like me I became more comfortable expressing the fact that I wasn’t a boy, not always at least. You see they had trouble understanding that my gender was so fluid that one day I could be a boy, the next a girl, and one some days both or neither. At least thats what I thought. The real reason why everyone was uncomfortable when I would express this fluidity is because students like me where more likely to be taken by the faeries here, or make deals with them and no one wanted to be friends with someone who would be stolen away, possibly to not return until. During midterms in my second semester people started opening up to me and I made a few friends, this however was an especially hard time for me and I began to want to seek out a faerie that would help me. I began taking my mood ring on walks around the school glancing through it to see the truth and when I would find a faerie I would simply put the ring on and talk to them. I must have talked to a dozen faeries posing as students before I got the answer I was looking for, that if I were able to win a contest with the faerie they would give me the ability to control my voice and then at least I would sound the way I wanted whenever I wanted. This “parlor trick” as the faerie called it wasn’t very costly. I had to wager my second favorite dress (one that I had bought for less than twenty dollars) so I thought the risk would be well worth the reward, the ability to change my voice. This contest was a game of quarters, I became very good at quarters in high school when I would drink my dysphoria away at parties with all the “cool” kids. This was the first of three contests I won with the Fae in two years. The second contest won back a student who had been taken, and the third wager won me a potion that would grant happiness and inspiration for a day (I used this potion to finish my first novel and the short story that secured my A in my creative writing course.) Each wager became more dangerous than the last. For the student me and two others had to put up something with extreme emotional attachment- the teddy bear my grandmother gave me, Hannah’s bracelet their dad gave them before going off to a war they would never return from and Johnny’s blanket (he wouldn’t explain why it was so important to him but the faerie we were dealing with seemed surprised at how much it meant to him.) The potion, well I nearly lost that wager and my voice along with it. But this is nothing compared to the last wager I made at Elsewhere University.

I was on a mission to find the most powerful faerie who would be willing to gamble with me, I knew that was the only way. Even my closest friends told me that they wouldn’t support this endeavor as the risk would be too high. “They’ll take you forever” they warned. I didn’t care anymore, I was tired of the body I was living in and I was going to find a faerie powerful enough to grant me the power to change it. I had seen one student win a wager with a faerie that changed their body once, her name was Ellie and she graduated much happier than I ever imagined she would be, but still not as happy as she deserved to be as her fear of what her parents would think gnawed at her from time to time. But what Ellie had done wasn’t what I wanted, I wanted to be able to change my body, to be the way I felt like I should be on any given day, and that was no parlor trick. That feat was no small task of magic and no complex potion could grant my request. This was strong magic, magic that the faeries only ever used on themselves, I wasn’t even sure it was possible for any Fae to grant my request.

One day though in class room 231- the classroom that time moves the slowest in- I met a faerie who gave off an imposing energy, I knew instantly that if anyone could grant my request it would be them.

Keep reading

liswae  asked:

Are you still active snaj ? 😘



But you have mild Autism, right?

So, I just got back from a haircut today. And the conversation I had with the stylist there took an unpleasant turn. 

My mother came with me, because I have an issue with going nonverbal under stress, and it made me feel better to have her there in case I couldn’t explain to the stylist what I wanted. My mom explained that I was autistic, and that’s why she was with me. “Oh, my stepson has autism.” Great, the ‘being compared to a friend/relative that also has autism’ line. Bonus points for saying “has autism” instead of “is autistic” But, whatever. People like comparing things, that’s just how society works. She asks me about my day, I attempt to make small talk. 

And then the dreaded question: “But you have mild Autism, right?” Almost every autistic gets this question. You might get it as “But you’re high functioning, right?” or as “But you’re not severely autistic, are you?” I have always been uncomfortable with this question, but for the longest time I couldn’t put my finger on exactly why, but today, I think I figured it out. It’s not just because they’re using functioning labels, which everyone who’s listened to the autistic community knows are not only inaccurate and unhelpful, but are almost always used to deny agency or support. 

It’s because that’s not what she’s asking. She isn’t asking how much support I need, or what accommodations I use. She isn’t asking what activities I struggle with, or how many ADLs I can perform. No. She’s asking me “But you’re not one of those, right?” “I can still talk shit about autistic people in front of you, right?”

 “I didn’t mistake one of those ‘low functioning’ autistics for an actual person, did I?”

The question caught me off guard, and I (unsuccessfully) tried to explain that functioning labels didn’t really work, and my mom added that today was a good day for me. The lady seemed to get that it was a day to day thing, but because I was able to speak, I believe she kept her assumption that I was ‘mild’. Which is always really wild to me because when I was diagnosed by my psychiatrist, I was actually classed as “extremely low functioning” (I don’t agree with functioning labels, but that’s literally what’s on the paperwork). Like, ya, I can speak verbally sometimes, and I’m capable of blogging and stuff, but I can’t drive, make my own food, or even remember to eat on a regular basis. You can’t call me high or low functioning, or say I have mild or severe autism, because Surprise! Humans are more complex than that. Shocker, I know.

And then she started telling me about her stepson. And everything she said about him was negative. She complained about how it was “so hard to explain to people” when he flapped his hands in public because he’s really tall for a kid, so people mistake him for an adult. Implying that only children are allowed to stim, I guess? I flap my hands, and I’m 22. Fuck anyone who tries to tell me that expressing yourself is only for kids. She told me about how he’s “decided he’s not going to drive, he’s not going to get a job, he’s not going to college”. Which, you know what? Fine. If he’s recognizing his limits and thinks he’s not capable of doing any of those things, that’s fine. He’s still a worthwhile human being. If he decides later on that he wants to attempt those things, more power to him, but they’re not necessary. But more than that, apparently this kid is 13. 13. What fucking person knew exactly that they were going to go to college, get a job, and were capable of driving at fucking 13?!?! This is fucking ableist garbage. You’re setting a higher standard for a disabled child, than most people do with their non-disabled children. While also implying that he is wrong for making such decisions. Stay classy.

I told her that I also couldn’t drive because it was unsafe. But she went on about how she “just wants him to try, how hard is it?” How hard is it? You’re driving a fucking one ton hunk of metal, electronics and flammable gas at high speeds, in tight quarters, in highly populated areas. Driving is fucking dangerous, and the consequences of making a mistake are LITERALLY life and death. Just because this is something that almost everyone in our culture can do, doesn’t erase the fact that it’s fucking complicated and dangerous as shit, and it’s fucked up that not being able to drive is so looked down upon. 

So I just tried to smile and nod and wait for the haircut to be over so I could get out of there as fast as I could. And at the end of it, she hadn’t said a single positive thing about her stepson. Not. One. And I can’t help but feel sorry for this poor boy, who has to deal with this Autism Mom™ who trash talks her son to strangers. Who likely knows exactly what she thinks of him, even if he doesn’t say it.

Which brings me back to my main point. Why the hell would this woman think talking negatively about her autistic son to me, another autistic person, would be remotely okay? Why the fuck would that even cross her mind? 

And it’s because ableism is so ingrained in our society, so widely accepted, that neurotypical and able-bodied people think even disabled and neurodivergent people want to hear about it. The dehumanization of autistic people is considered the norm so much, that it’s assumed everyone wants to participate. Which is why I hate that that question. “But you have mild autism, right?” Because they’re not asking how autism affects you. They’re asking if you’re going to object to how bigoted they are going to be. If you say that your autism is ‘mild’, welcome to the Ableism Club! If you say that your autism is ‘severe’, then they’re likely to talk shit in front of you anyway, because they think you’re not capable of understanding what’s going on around you. 

This question makes me uncomfortable because not only is it NEVER asked by people who are actually allies of autistics, but because it’s a warning sign that someone is going to be a shitty person. So forgive me if I’m not wanting to play devil’s advocate here, and pretend that she’s probably actually a great mother who really understands, and she just doesn’t know the correct terminology. If she has a fucking autistic child and cared AT ALL, the barest amount of research could tell her that is not a cool question to ask. The fact that she uses person first language (You know, so she doesn’t forget we’re actual people) and labels autism like it’s a fucking salsa at taco bell, tells me she knows nothing about autism. And if she knows nothing about autism as the parent of an autistic child, she’s a fucking shitty parent. 

But anyway, I’m really worked up now. Probably going to go eat a burger and hope that this kid has got SOMEONE is his life that cares about him. All autistic people deserve that. 

Tennessee caused a stir earlier this year when it ran an audit of the state’s 2015 graduating class. The number crunchers in Nashville reported that nearly a third of students who received a diploma didn’t complete the required coursework. One in three.

Naturally, parents and politicians alike were baffled and more than a little bothered.

“I’m just having a hard time reconciling ‘requirement’ with 'didn’t do it,’” board member Wendy Tucker said at a public meeting, hypothesizing on the spot that this could explain Tennessee’s trouble with students succeeding in college. Less than a quarter of high-school graduates earn a postsecondary degree.

She wasn’t the only one having a hard time. The state’s Department of Education struggled to explain the gap.

Should High School Students Need A Foreign Language To Graduate?

Illustration: LA Johnson/NPR

maeyourskiesbeblue  asked:

period piece and arrange marriage trope please and thank you. I can never have enough of that trope

*added ff.net link*

I started writing this MONTHS ago as a multi-chapter that I just couldn’t get working. So I tweaked a few bits and here you go:

Also on AO3 and FF.NET


This wasn’t how it was meant to be.

It was, she had conceded with a heavy heart, the fault of decades of conflict and suffering. No sooner had the Ogre Wars finished than a disagreement over trade routes had embroiled half the kingdoms in the world in a series of dirty naval battles which had left no winner. Instead, with so many ships destroyed, trade slowed to a trickle - now reliant on old overland routes that had been neglected for decades. Famine followed, a pestilence destroyed almost half that first year’s harvest. Thousands died and those who lived were not enough to reap what remained and so much of it wilted in the ground further compounding the shortages. Finally, in a cruel blow, a terrible plague then began to sweep over the land. The disease took no heed of age or station and left every family, rich or poor, affected. Such a terrible trio of curses. Dark magic was suspected by some parts to be the cause, yet no culprit admitted to it.

In the end, almost 15 years of hardship passed and the population of the kingdom dwindled to almost half of what it was. Its neighbours too were stricken- including so many of the royal families that had lost their heirs.

Misthaven was fortunate. Princess Emma had lived. She had made it through a childhood rife with the terrors of pestilence and starvation that she had seen so many of her childhood playmates not reach puberty. The princess had lived to see crops begin to flourish again and the navy of the kingdom rise once more - with new ships painstakingly formed by those remaining craftsmen who began to teach their skills to the young who had been lucky enough to make it. Finally, the kingdom was getting back on its feet with the most imminent threats gone.

Now, as the only heir to the throne, the duty of the princess was to marry and provide continuance for the bloodline of the royal family. Yet, there was a fly in the ointment. There were so few men to whom she could be betrothed. Princes were scarce, dukes hardly less so. All the traditional venues upon which a daughter of a king and queen would find a husband were gone. Balls and tours were still rare affairs, and frankly, her parents were beginning to worry. Almost a half dozen years past the age when marriage would have been acceptable and yet no offers to consider. There just was not the pool of eligible men for her to be exposed to and form an affection for (and hopefully, they prayed, to love).

From her quarters, high up in one of the castle’s four turrets, Emma surveyed the kingdom below her. To the west, the port stretched out into the shimmering ocean. There, dozens of ships crammed into the harbour. A sign of the return of prosperity to the kingdom. In the east, the city bled into farmland, all ripe with crop that would be harvested that autumn. Beyond, the woodland from which the kingdom had earned its moniker - ‘The Enchanted Forest’ - lay, green and lush with the freshness of Spring. It was beautiful.

Keep reading

Taylor buddy! Just wanted to give you a lil update on my life because I’m proud of myself and I think you would be too :)

basically these past two years I’ve eliminated people in my life that make an unhealthy impact on my well-being. It’s been tough but I’m finally able to realize my worth and ask for it.

After being bullied for four years and my grades suffering because of it, I transferred schools in the middle of junior year last year. Once I made that step, I’ve had a clear head and straight A’s ever since.

I was accepted into college and already starting my prerequisites for a competitive nursing program this next year-something my heart has always been set on. And this next quarter in High school, I will be taking a college level, intro to healthcare course.

One of my new years resolutions was to put myself out there more, and post at least one video of me singing. I got over that fear. The response I got from others was amazing, my heart was so full. 

Lastly, I finally got over a boy who broke my heart into millions of pieces. I took months and months to realize that I deserved better and it wasn’t stupid of me to become vulnerable with him even though her hurt me deeply. Your music was my safe haven during those long and draining months. Thank you for that. 

My life is becoming what I wanted it to be. I’m grasping onto those fleeting moments of happiness, and making sure I realize the beauty of them when they’re present. I know you love to hear about our lives to keep a sense of normality in yours, so I hope this is something you enjoy reading. Hopefully you’re as proud of me as I am of myself. I love you, sunshine @taylorswift

-Jess :)