in memory of those who lost their lives

Memorial Day weekend is a time when a lot of Americans remember those who have served and lost their lives during war — and not all of those individuals were U.S. citizens.

When the Iraq war started, nearly 40,000 members of the military were not U.S. citizens. Army Pfc. Diego Rincon was one of them.

In 1989, his family immigrated to the U.S. from Colombia. In 2003, he was killed by a suicide bomber in Iraq. He died for his country even though he wasn’t a citizen.

His parents, George Rincon and Yolanda Reyes still remember their son and how quickly he adapted to his home in the U.S.

“We came here when he was 5-years-old,” Reyes says. “Diego started speaking English faster than we did. He was often letting me know, ‘When I finish high school, I’m going to join the Army.’ ”

Diego did go on to join the Army and he was on his way to becoming a citizen, along with his parents.

“Before he went to Iraq, he got the green card,” George says. “But he said to me, 'Dad, don’t do the citizenship until I return. We’ll do it together.’ ”

Remembering A Soldier Who Died For His Country Before Becoming A Citizen

Photo: Von Diaz/StoryCorps

Happy Pride!

This year, I’ve learned a lot about what compulsory heterosexuality really looks like. I’ve seen friends and family become more attentive, encouraging, and interactive with me when I tried to date a man one more time after feeling as though I’d never achieve any “happily ever after” if it wasn’t with a partner of opposite sex. I’ve learned that even when you know who you are, social pressure can do a hell of a job to convince you that you’re not what you think or that you’d be better off being different. 

It took me twenty-four years to tell anyone that I was gay. And the three years since have been tumultuous. I’ve doubted myself so many times I couldn’t count or remember all of them. I’ve come face to face with reminders of what the closet is and how homophobia reinforces that closet, even in people we hold most dear. I’ve been reminded why the family I’m choosing is the best family I could ever know, the ones who have sat through nights of seemingly endless toil as countless questions of self-doubt roll in like the tides, “Am I a woman? Can I call myself a lesbian? What if I’m pansexual? What’s wrong with me? Don’t I ever get to be happy? Why do they only come around when I’m acting straight? I think I might be on the ace spectrum?” 

And they showed me time after time what it means to be an ally. Why we call these spaces a community, a family. 

You want to know what the beautiful thing is about this family? We build movements with love. Love is our weapon, and it makes us the best family in the world. We encourage, we uplift, we accept, we communicate, we listen… we never give up on each other. Sure, we have our problems and our dysfunctions like any family. We have our disagreements. But at the end of the day, we stick together. If someone comes for one of us, we all fight back as one voice and one force. 

It’s been the privilege of my life to find my own place and my own voice in this family. The past year has seen evolving knowledge and understanding of what it means to be LGBTQ+ and how we engage that on a daily basis and occupy our spaces as a united front in a climate of expanding tensions. I am honored to know, love, befriend, and live life with some of the most brave and beautiful people in the world. They are my friends, they are my family, they are my peers– my brothers and sisters and the beat of my heart, and I will spend the rest of my life fighting for our every right to exist and breathe free air away from fear and discrimination.

This year’s Pride will be one of many experiences. We will celebrate what we have earned through ages of struggle, we will celebrate how we love and live, we will make memories and friendships and maybe even forge lasting love. We will remember those we have lost in this struggle– to disease, to bigotry, to ignorance, to violence. We will stand -as we always do- under the rainbow banner that whispers the promises of those who have blazed the trail before us and taught us how to be brave, these whispers that echo back through years: You are welcome here. Here, you are safe. In this place, you are loved. With us, you are free to breathe and just be. 

So! With that said, I would officially like to welcome everyone and wish you the happiest and most love-filled Pride Month!

Originally posted by clinicallymoi

anonymous asked:

Hey, do you know any fics with POC drarry?

Hello anon!!! I feel like I’ve definitely read more POC Drarry fics than the ones I’m about to list, but I’m not sure if it’s usually stated explicitly or if I just kinda always imagine POC Harry by default? Either way, I think we definitely need more POC Drarry and if anyone else has any recs please leave a reply!! :) 

Harry Potter and the Future He Doesn’t Really Want, Thanks. by Seefin (70.5K) It was addictive, the feeling of Draco Malfoy telling him things in a soft voice early in the morning. Harry felt like he was taming a wild animal, or petting a cat that hated everybody else. This train existed outside of time, that was the only explanation Harry could come up with as to why Malfoy was actually having a civil conversation with him right now.
Unnngh, this fic is just so lovely and slow and sweet, and it really transported me! I felt like it was a movie or something??? I don’t know, just it really had #ambiance, just like literally every one of @seefin‘s fics do! I loved everything about it, from Harry’s intrusive dreams of the future, to Luna’s plant-filled apartment where he’s staying, to my brotp Draco and Pansy, to all the random meetings, to LITERALLY EVERYTHING! poc!harry 

Wild by seefin also contains poc!harry and it is fucking amazing as well! You can see my rec for it in this list of slow-burn fics :)

The Devil’s White Knight by angryspaceravenclaw (64.5K)- When Harry wakes up in an alternate timeline–a timeline where Voldemort was defeated long before the first war–he discovers everything is different. His parents, his godfather, his friends–and him. Harry must deal with the consequences of who he would have been if he had been raised by his parents, and figure out where he stands with his casual hook up, Draco Malfoy.
This fic was really interesting!! It’s one of the only “everyone lives” AU fics I’ve ever read! I generally stay away from those fics because it just seems like cheating or something, but in this one Harry retains all his memories of going through the war, so it was really nice to watch him be reunited with all the people he lost! And his relationship with Draco was really compelling as well!! poc!harry

Volunteers by Anna Fugazzi (52K)- Harry, Draco, and a volunteer position that was supposed to be quick and easy.
Soooo this fic doesn’t actually have (explicitly) POC Harry or Draco, but it does have POC DRACO’S WEE LITTLE SON AND HE’S ADORABLE!!! It’s not epilogue compliant at all, and both Harry and Draco have oc sons. The fic is mostly about Drarry volunteering to organize a Beltane festival together, their sons being friends, and them being dads. I just love a good dad fic, okay?!?! And this was the first and ONLY time I have ever seen *ANY* POC Malfoys, and I didn’t realize how amazing it would be until I happened upon it and my heart stopped and I gasped and then couldn’t stop grinning. 


fuma kotaro x mc (unnamed)

a/n: i had two anons request the same prompt for kotaro, so i figured it was in high demand! so here’s number 31 from this list - “you may be an idiot… but you’re mine.” @jemchew and @demon-princess-anastasia, i’m sorry you’re both getting spammed <3

He is certain of very few things, really: he has never been bright and he has never been particularly talented, but he has come to understand that there is not a thing more precious in the world than her and the sounds of their hearts beating in time. He still makes mistakes a bit too often, and he has lost count of how many times he has seen her pretty face marred with fear and concern for him as he acts in ways she cannot understand. She cares so much for him, so terribly much — he can tell, because he feels the same for her: terribly, terribly in love.

So terribly that, at times, he cannot even think of his own safety when he comes to visit her. He can’t help that Lord Yukimura hangs at her side so often — and that his reaction is always so violent.

Obviously, however, she cares, if the pinched look on her face and the way she keeps her arms crossed is any indication.

Keep reading

In memory of those we lost on the road to tk5:

• the eyeliner. Brandiva lived and died in just a day
• brandons sams town show mustache who disappeared under mysterious circumstances
• Bronnie (murdered by Alex Cameron)
• One More Song (allegedly)
• Brandon and Ronnies solo Twitter presence
• everyones chill
• Dave has been dead for about 2 weeks now

anonymous asked:

Fuck each and every person who defends the Confederate flag because it represents "heritage" or whatever. I've lived in the South my entire life and have ancestors on both sides of my family who fought for the Confederacy. But you don't see me celebrating those racist fucks. Fuck them and their memory.

Guys, you shouldn’t even let your alive racist relatives off the hook, why the fuck so you care about the dead racists who lost a fucking war?


“We are the dead.
Short days ago
We lived
Felt sunsets glow
And were loved,
And now we lie.”

100 years ago today Canada became a nation when the four divisions of the Canadian Corps came together for the first time.
Together, the soldiers were able capture the previously unattainable ridge of Vimy. After the four day battle, the Canadians earned respect from their allies, and four outstanding soldiers earned Victoria Crosses for their endeavours; the divisions also struck fear into the German soldiers who previously doubted the Canadians.
But this was not without loss; 3,598 Canadians lost their lives, another 7,000 were injured.
The memorial of Vimy Ridge includes 20 large sculptures that represent the ideals the Canadians fought for - truth, justice, hope and peace.
The memorial also includes the inscribed names of the 11,250 Canadians who died in France who have no known grave.
The “Canada Bereft” at the centre of the memorial gazes downwards over the graves of her valiant soldiers.
The stature represent those who were left behind to mourn their lost.

3,598 pairs of boots were placed around the monument; one for each of the fallen.
Without these brave soldiers, Canada would not be what it is today.
We do not owe them something.
We owe them everything.

@koori-mizu replied to your post:

“Jellal wanted to kill Erza like SS and also japan raw implies that Jellal was in his mind when he wanted to kill her”

If you have the source to the Japanese version, share this with me, and I’ll get my friend to read this to clarify your point because she can read Japanese. 

From what I read in the manga, I see quite the opposite with what Mashima was trying to show me. It was pointed out that Jellal wasn’t in his right mind all those years when he was under Ultear’s manipulation, kinda like she was the one planting these ideas in his mind, where Jellal thought they were his but he was just a puppet to Ultears plans, this was revealed in the manga. Jellal wasn’t in his right mind to make correct decisions because this was locked away by Ultear when she had control of him. Mashima even go as far as to have Ultear revealed the truth that none of those crimes Jellal did in the tower was entirely Jellal’s fault because he was being controlled by Ultear. 

Mashima made this point quite clear. We also know this because when we take the real Jellal (under NO manipulation) before he was manipulated and after he was freed from Ultears manipulation, we know for a fact that the real Jellal have always wanted to protect Erza with his life. He even wanted to take Erza’s place for the punishment instead when those guards found out they were trying to escape the tower. After Jellal was freed from Ultears manipulation, the first thing he did was (again) saved her by taking her place to infuse his body with the Lacrima instead.  Remember it was said that a body needed to be fused, that’s why Erza offered herself up to save Natsu…And, the last we’ve seen of Erza before Natsu carried her to shore was she offered her body up with the Lacrima (as a sacrifice) to save Natsu, it was pointed out that’s the only way, but she can’t be saved unless another person take her place.  Natsu isn’t the only one who saved Erza, Jellal did too. We know this person is Jellal because both Natsu and Erza was saved and the next time we’ve seen Jellal again, his body was covered with Lacrima. Honestly, I’m not sure why it’s so hard for people to understand the real Jellal never wanted to kill Erza, he has always wanted to protect Erza with his life. It was pointed out over and over again in the manga and I’m sure this is what Mashima wants to convey even if there are haters who refuse to believe it and believe that he wanted to kill Erza and it was within his right mind that time even when we have Mashima made Ultear revealed Jellal wasn’t the one to be blamed entirely:

Jellal isn’t someone who will pass the blame/faults on another person.  Jellal didn’t fault Ultear in any of this because (like said) he isn’t someone who wants to pass the blame on others. He is taking responsibility of his actions in the tower for the “crimes” he’s committed even when we (who take context into account) know he can’t be fault entirely. Mashima made sure readers are understood that when Jellal wanted to kill Erza, he WASN’T in his right mind, that’s why we are introduced of the Jellal prior to/after he was freed from his manipulation…For this whole truth, this needed to be told through Ultear’s mouth because Jellal won’t say it, this doesn’t make him a wimp, it just shows that he doesn’t like to fault others for his crimes and he understands that despite he doesn’t have full control of his actions back then, he needed to take responsibility for his crimes/actions because it’s within his character, he’s not running away from his crimes, and he’s also not someone who will pass this blame to another person, even when that person (Ultear) have to take responsibility for Jellal’s crimes as well. 

Yes, Jellal felt great remorse for his actions (this shows me how kind he truly is by the way), because while we know that isn’t his real self when he committed all these, and he also knows this as well, but it doesn’t change the fact that those memories and actions will always be with him even when he was freed from Ultears manipulation because he knows he’s the one who gave into the darkness, he knows he’s still the one who committed those crimes with his own two hands, and he can’t forgive himself for this. He also couldn’t forgive himself for getting that happiness with Erza because he have hurted her greatly and quite frankly I believe he actually hated himself for that. He just wants Erza to be happy. 

When it comes to Jerza, there’s also a reason why Mashima gave a back story to Jellal and Erza and how the real Jellal treated Erza before he has fallen into the darkness. This is for us to understand and take Jellal’s real character into account when judging his actions. When we ignore the whole part Ultear was playing with his mind, and we look at his real character, you’ll know that the REAL Jellal (under NO manipulation) have always risked his life to protect Erza. He was even willing to take Erza’s place for the punishment in the TOH as well. That’s the REAL Jellal. Also, he did the same thing after he was revived by Wendy in the OS arc, when he lost all his memories (yet, that’s the pure side to him), he just wanted to take all those sadness away from Erza by sacrificing himself because he doesn’t want Erza to be sad anymore (even without his memories, this is what he wanted), until Erza told him to live and convinced him to deactivate the destructive spell he placed on himself). We also see when Midnight came, Jellal stand in front of Erza to protect her even when he knows he doesn’t have much magic level/stamina left…that’s the real Jellal mind you. 

For someone who was in the right mind to kill Erza, he wouldn’t need to take this long to forgive himself. I mean it didn’t take Ultear long to forgive herself for those crimes she committed.. nor did it take the other characters like Gajeel long to forgive himself when he tried to kill Levy…I mean mind you, Gajeel was within his right mind when he did that to Levy… do you understand the difference? (no offense here)

Lastly, when I said someone is within their right mind to do something, I meant it as they can make decisions of their own without anyone influence or manipulation, we know that their sanity was not locked away and they can make decisions of their own actions. Jellal couldn’t when we know Ultear was controlling him like a puppet. Mashima revealed this, he made her said this after Jellal was freed from her manipulation, why do you think Mashima go so far as to have this explained? Why do you think Mashima go so far as to show us all this and what Jellal real character was like when he have the right mind to make the correct decisions in comparison when he was being manipulated? It’s to show us the difference between the two and want us to understand that the real Jellal wouldn’t have done any of those. When Ultear manipulated Jellal it almost felt like (to me) Jellal’s real character was locked away by the darkness and the Jellal that was being manipulated can no longer see the light or what is the right thing, to him the right thing is reviving Zeref, but these weren’t his real thoughts because Ultear was controlling his way of thinking and manipulating him this whole time (even though Jellal thought they were his thoughts and the one in control). It’s almost like, it’s Jellal’s body, with his memories intact but his real self/character was locked away because he was her puppet. This is fact.  When Jellal was freed from Ultears manipulation, you know what his character was like for all that I said.

Beauty and the Beast (KG3 x Reader) (Part 1/?)


Summary: Once upon a time a spoiled young king meet a beautiful girl who will save him from destruction.

Warnings: None? Gaston being an idiot. KG3 isn’t really in this one but he will be in the next one.
Once upon a time in the hidden heart of Britain a young king lived in a shining castle. Although he had everything his heart desired he was selfish and unkind. He taxed his colonies to fill his castle with the most beautiful objects and the most beautiful people.

One night an old woman came to the castle, offering a single rose in return for shelter from the bitter cold. Repulsed by her haggard appearance the king turned the woman away. She warned him to not be deceived by appearances for beauty is found within. When the king dismissed her again the old woman’s ugliness melted away to reveal a beautiful enchantress.

He tried to apologize, but it was too late she had seen there was no love in his heart. As punishment she transformed him into a hideous beast. Placing a spell upon the castle and all that lived there. As days bleed into years the king and his servants were forgotten by the world. For the enchantress had erased all memory from those who loved them… and hated them.

The rose she had offered him was truly an enchanted rose. If the king could learn to love another and earn their love in return before the last petal fell the spell would be broken. If not he would be doomed to remain a beast for all time. As the years passed he fell into despair and lost all hope. For who could ever learn to love a beast…

The early morning sun had already risen when you walked out of your tiny cottage. You held a new book you’d gotten from the library a few days ago. A story about a beanstalk, and an ogre, and a-

“Go’ mornin’!” You heard from a path leading to the woods near your home. You nodded and curtsied to the man. He must not know who you were.

“Bonjour.” You said and his face became sour. Right. The British didn’t quite like the French. (An understatement, but you’d never liked to think people hated you. Barely anyone in this town knew you well enough for that.) That’s one of the reasons you felt you didn’t belong in this small rural village. You held the book closer to your chest as you continued walking.

People were just starting to come out as you entered the town limits. They all greeted each other. One or two saying hello to you. You greeted them kindly, but continuing your trek to the library. You could hear them talking about you. They had never learned the skill of whispering.

“Look at her boots, they look like a man’s.”

“You can see her underwear, the way she has her skirt tied up like that. I’d believe she was some common whore if I didn’t know she was so strange.”

“I still don’t see why Gaston likes her so much.”

“Well she is pretty.”

“Yes, but completely mad.”

You rolled your eyes and kept walking. You didn’t care what they thought of you.

“Good morning Belle.” You blushed at the nickname.Gaston had given it to you when he’d learned you were French. The whole town had followed suit. You stopped to talk to the old man who had called to you. Mr. Smith, the oldest man in town.

“Bonjour Mr. Smith. How are you today?” You asked with a kind smile. The old man meant well and you’d always found him polite.

“Oh, it’s been okay. I do believe it will rain soon. My back is giving me troubles.” He said and shrugged slightly.

“Well, lets hope it will clear up soon.” You said. He looked at your book disapproving for only a moment.

“Where are you off to?” He asked and you looked at you book.

“The library, I just finished this. It’s a wonderful story.” You said and he nodded.

“Well I’ll let you be on your way. Have a good day.” He said and limped away.

“You as well Mr. Smith.”

You could see the library from where you were standing. You increased your pace as you got closer. You opened the door to the small building the little bell singing as you walked in.

“You know that thing doesn’t ever ring for anyone else, but you.” He said and you let out a laugh.

“Well no one truly appreciates this place then.” You said and as you set the book on his desk.

“Do you gave something new?” You asked and he shook his head.

“Not since yesterday, but you’re free to take any of the others.” He said and you nodded. You looked through the stacks for a moment before pulling out the one you wanted. “This one again?”

“It’s my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise!” You and looked at the book adoringly. It had been the first book you read in this town. It had kept you warm on cold nights and happy when things got tough.

“Well if you like it all that much it’s yours.” The librarian said and you gasped.

“Really?” You asked excitedly.

“Yes, now be on your way. Your father will worry.” He said and smiled at you.

“Thank you so much.” You said and flipped to the first page on your way through the door. You tuned out the chatter of the townspeople as you read. You were almost back to your home when you bumped into something and dropped your book. Or more specifically someone. An arrogant, rude, and conceited someone.

“Good morning Belle.” Gaston said putting on his most charming smile. Which honestly just looked creepy to you. You took a breath and gave him a forced smile.

“Bonjour Gaston,” you said as he picked up your book. “May I have my book.” He had started shaking his head at it.

“How can you read this, there’s no pictures.” He said as he flipped through the pages. There were in fact pictures, it was in the middle of the book. It was quite beautiful you thought.

“Some people use their imaginations.” You quipped grabbing your book from him and dusting it off.

“Belle it’s not right for a woman to read. Soon they start thinking, and getting ideas.” He said and you rose a brow.

“I think those are synonyms for each other.” You said and he got the funniest face as he was confused.

“Synonyms? Anyways Belle-”

“Gaston I would love to stay and talk more, but I have to get home to my father.” You said and started to walk away.

Gaston looked around to see if anyone had seen the rejection. One man had and he scoffed,”She wants me. She’s just playing hard to get.” He said and the man nodded walking on. “She will be my wife.”

“Papa?” You asked as you entered into your home.

“Ah mon ami you’re home! Come come look at what I’ve been working on.” He said from the basement of your cottage.

“Papa?” You asked walking down the steps to the painting room your father had made. He loved to paint, you lived to invent. You both used the space equally. When you reached your father you put your head on his shoulder. The painting was of a woman, with roses all around her. You smiled at the perfect painting of your mother.

“Oh papa, it’s beautiful.” You said and he leaned his head against yours.

“You really think?” He asked.

“I know, and you’ll win first prize at the art fair at the end of this week.” You said and he smiled.

“Why thank you dear. Would you mind fetching me my white paint I’ve run out and I want to add a few more things.” He said and you nodded going over to his extensive painting collection.

“Papa, do you think I’m odd?” You asked. No matter how you refused to let the townspeople get to you, sometimes it’s all your mind could think about.

“My daughter odd? You’re absolutely mad to think that!” He said and you grabbed his paint shoving it into his hand.

“Not funny Papa.” You said and sat on a stool near him.

“I thought it was quite funny.” He mumbled and you rolled your eyes. “Now is that why you’re really upset?” He asked and you nodded.

“Yes, I just- I don’t fit in here Papa. I don’t really have any friends.” You said and he rose a brow.

“What about Gaston, he’s a handsome fellow.” Your father suggested and you scoffed.

“Yes, and rude and conceited. Oh Papa he’s not for me.” You said and looked at your hands that had fallen into your lap.

“Hmm.” Your father hummed and continued painting. He smiled when he was finished. “You are truly your mother’s daughter: Class.” He said and you smiled a little.

“Well I will let this dry. Come on let start a late breakfast don’t you say. Then you can get to your inventing.” He said and your smile grew even more. You walked with him up to the kitchen to make breakfast.

The week passed on slowly. You’d go into town and buy the things you needed. Avoid Gaston and try to not let the girls in the town make you self conscious. Then on Friday your father was set to leave for the art fair to sell his paintings.

“Is there anything you want while I’m in the city?” He asked and you thought for a moment.

“A rose, like the one mother’s holding in the painting.” You said and he nodded.

“Take care my dear. I will be back before you know it.” He said and kissed your forehead.

“Goodbye Papa. Be safe.” You said and kissed his cheek. You watched from your porch as he rode off. You turned and walked into your home going to read. Everything had been taken of that morning and you could wait to get back to your story.

An hour after your father had left a knock came at your door. You set your book down on the table in front of you. You marked your page and walked to the door. You looked into the peephole contraption you’d made and groaned at the person who was standing there.

You reluctantly opened the door. “Gaston what a… surprise.” You said as he made his way in. You watched as he walked his way to your dining table.

“Good evening Belle. I hope your day has been well.” He said and set his muddy boots on your table cloth next to your book.

‘It was good until you got here.’ You thought crossing your arms over your chest. “Forgive me if I sound a bit unpleased but why are you here?” You asked him.

“Belle, I’m here to make all your dreams come true.” He said and you walked over and grabbed your book away from him.

“And what do you know about my dreams Gaston?” You asked moving to put your book on the shelf.

“Plenty, picture this, a the tavern, a roaring fire place, my little wife massaging my feet. While the little ones play with the dogs on the floor. We’ll have six or seven.” You realized you’d turned your back to Gaston and quickly corrected that.


“No Belle, young strapping boys, like me. And do you know who that little wife will be Belle.” He asked coming closer to you.

“Let me guess-”

“You Belle.” You gasped a little and slid from under his arms. He followed after you.

“Gaston I’m flattered really I am, but I-” he’d backed you up to the door and was leaning forward eyes closed mouth puckered. His hands had trapped you in. “I just don’t deserve you.” You said and opened the front door and got out from under him as he fell into your porch. You slammed the door and saw his boots on your table. You quickly grabbed them and opened the door throwing them out and locking the door.

You took a deep breath and sighed. This was your life. Walking through a provincial town and dodging a delusional egomaniac.

You looked out the window and saw a whole wedding ceremony set up. You rolled your eyes with disgust. You couldn’t believe he would do that. No you really could believe he would do that.

You huffed and went out to the back. “Can you believe him?” You asked the chickens.
“Me? The wife of that boring brainless?!” You screamed in frustration and threw down the food.

“Madame Gaston can’t you just see it! Madame Gaston his little wife ugh! No sir! Not me! I guarantee it I want much more that this provincial life!” You said as you stomped through your backyard. This was so completely and utterly unbelievable.
Then the truly unbelievable happened.

Philippe, the horse your father owned, came running through the field behind your house and you ran to meet him. Why? Because your father wasn’t with him.

“Philippe where’s Papa! Where is he?” You asked and quickly undid the small painting coach attached to his saddle.

“Take me too him Phillippe.” You said and climbed onto the horse and you sprinted for the hills.


The Duke of Cambridge and Prince Harry, accompanying The Prince of Wales, today attended the 100th anniversary of the Battle of Vimy Ridge in France. Their Royal Highnesses were joined by the Governor General of Canada, the President of France François Hollande and Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau 🇫🇷 🇨🇦 #Vimy100

The Duke of Cambridge and Prince Harry lay poppies and a commemorative pair of soldiers boots at the Canadian National Vimy Memorial in memory of those who lost their lives during the Battle of Vimy #Vimy100

- Kensington Palace on Instagram


A/N: I promise the next one will be fluff. I swear. This however is not. 

It was hard to believe that it had been forty-nine years. Sometimes it felt like yesterday, other times it felt like a lifetime ago. She could have lived her entire life never returning to this cursed mountain. Today, however, was not about her. Today was a day of remembrance. A day to remember a blue faerie who lost his wings, a wolf that sacrificed his life for a dream, a handsome fae youth with eyes the color of a sky, a bronze eyed girl who prayed to the mother and the countless others that fell victim to Amarantha’s tyranny.

The memorial was a piece of art. At first it was going to contain all the names of those fallen, but the list was long and full of nameless faeries. Instead at the base of the mountain they carved the Mother standing at the gates of eternity embracing an innocent fae girl.

Today she could not stand on the dais with the other High Lords and Ladies, today she needed to be just Feyre. Today she needed to mourn the girl that had died under the mountain. She remembered their faces, those that she had killed, to save the many. Her nightmares would never let her forget.

Instead she stood in the crowd with Cassian as her support. She tried with all her will to push away the thought that this would be the closest she would ever get to those gates. The blood that stained her hands would never allow her entrance to a land filled with milk and honey.

She looked around the countless fae gathered, a golden-brown hair girl caught her attention, when the girl turned, her breath hitched, her knees barked in pain. The Mother was cruel. So cruel. The girl was not the same as the one she had murdered, but there was no mistaking she was a sister. The resemblance was as uncanny as Nesta and hers. Same eyes, same hair, a little softer edges.

Between her sobs she can hear the words she is trying to push out of her throat, to free them from being locked away.

I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, it should have been me, it should have been me that day, I’m sorry.

She can feel Rhys winnow behind her, embracing her, rubbing circles to sooth her tears away. She hears a soft gentle voice, “we never blamed you. You freed us, with my sister’s sacrifice, you freed us. You took the burden on your soul, so we could be free. You ended the cruelty and I am sorry it has cost you.”

Even if her throat was not clamped shut, she had no words. This girl was giving her forgiveness, the one she had sought for forty-nine years.

DnD SHAN’T ELUDE ME ANY FURTHER! HAHAHA! This time I drew a character with an already done sheet! Ready to be played! I’m just waiting for my buds to be ready (or the DM for that matter).
So, this guy, is my most seemingly overpowered character! A 3.5e Warforged Monk (I also got some pretty nifty rolls) + an AC of 37 at level 5 seems pretty good!
Now in actual character business, this is THE YELLOW DEVIL! They are a living yellow suit of armour, who goes around the world looking to recover its lost humanity, as it was once a living being, trapped and at a loss for memory, absorbing the souls of those he defeats and filtering them for their raw emotions, like the greed of a dragon, the courage of a hero, the love of a lover, the joy of a bard, all taken from the souls as they pass through the Yellow devil. Inside their chest cavity is a dark ball of gook made of pure distilled emotions, slowly piecing their humanity back.

(Also the souls they absorb temporarily affect their personality to be like of the previous bearer of the soul)

Solas has spent his life as an apostate, living in the wilderness well away from the civilized world and those who would shackle him for what he is. He mastered his magic without the help of tutors, spending years exploring the spirit realm of the Fade and coming to an understanding of its denizens that few others could claim. He would be happiest left alone to sleep in ancient ruins, searching for memories and knowledge that has been lost for ages, but the Breach in the sky threatens all worlds.
At a time when other mages flee into hiding, Solas has put his freedom at risk by emerging from the shadows to assist those who would combat the chaos. He will not stand idly by when his knowledge of the arcane could mean the difference between salvation and utter destruction. 

rebeccaravenroth  asked:

How about some angsty feels of "big brother" Mitsuhide looking after Obi and helping him out man. Like, he just recognizes when Obi is in a funk and just needs someone there for him.

His hand is at his sword before his eyes fully open.

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Dressed in a rather exotic uniform of army boots, army caps and fur coats, this image shows five female members of the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry standing in front of some Red Cross ambulances. As the first female recruits of this organization came from the ranks of the upper classes, perhaps the fur coats should not be too surprising. The women would have worked as drivers, nurses and cooks. Established by Lord Kitchener in 1907, the First Aid Nursing Yeomanry (FANY) was initially an auxiliary unit of women nurses on horseback, who linked the military field hospitals with the frontline troops. Serving in dangerous forward areas, by the end of the conflict First Aid Nursing Yeomanry members had been awarded 17 Military Medals, 1 Legion d'Honneur and 27 Croix de Guerre. A memorial to those women who lost their lives while working for the organization, can be found at St Paul's Church, Knightsbridge, London.