one last refuge

Last year’s birthday was pretty much the lowest point of mental illness for me, and for the year since then I’ve been just trying as much as I could to try to dig away from that point. Trying everything, throwing everything at the wall, putting in effort and confronting my unhappiness even though I felt so constantly exhausted and terrified and in pain. I didn’t really believe there was anything I could do to change that black pit, but like somebody already lost in the desert, I kept going anyway.

And just a year later, I’m lucky to get to have such a nice birthday with a clear mind and heart. I’ve never thrown a party before, and now I have. Working on mental health seems hopeless and impossible, especially if you feel constantly worthless and embarrassed, but I’m so grateful I kept looking for a solution even after so many years. I’m very lucky that some of the things I threw at the wall stuck, because that’s not the case for everyone. but I’m mostly grateful to myself from months ago, who felt so terrible but crawled out of the mud anyway, because she really could have stayed there a few more years. And I’m thankful for everybody who’s helped me… or were happy for me. It’s really meant a great deal to me.
All Things Rare and Precious - spirithorse - Tales of Zestiria [Archive of Our Own]
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
By Organization for Transformative Works

Rating: G
Fandom: Tales of Zestiria
Summary: In the face of escalation in the civil war that’s consuming the Rolance Empire, Eizen and Edna try to escape from their home and flee to the one last refuge left for seraphim.

A short prologue to All Glory Ends in Night (aka the Kingmaker AU).

Notes: I got hit by some serious Eizen feels while watching Tales of Berseria, this was not helped by Nami’s encouragement. Takes place before All Glory Ends in Night.

ladymaliwan  asked:

we’re at the mall when there’s a severe weather warning over the loudspeakers, guess we’re spending the night here- rebelcaptain

*head in hands* Sorry, I heard “5k word, in-canon fic with vaguely serious themes and oddly timed fluff that just so happens to take place in a mall.” I’ll post an excerpt of it here, but the whole of the piece can be found on AO3 (and has been gifted to you) under the title, “In Plain Sight.” I hope you like it!

The records Draven keeps on her claim that she was born on Coruscant, in a hospital not far from the Imperial Palace. If she cared, Jyn feels certain that she could rouse up a memory or two of the city-planet: family dinners, maybe; electric lights blurring as she walked the streets with her mother while they ignored the Galen-shaped emptiness in their apartment. It’s not pleasant, though, nor does it do her any good, so instead, Jyn ducks her head and ignores the familiarities of the architecture supporting the largest mall on Coruscant’s 3204th level. There are a thousand shadows and two decades separating her from her child-self, and she no longer has any desire to bridge the gap between them.

Despite this, Level 3204 is familiar.

It is, Jyn knows, one of the last refuges for the still-living people of Alderaan. While she doesn’t have the tongue to mirror their accents, the grief she allows to contour her face does her speaking for her and lets her blend into their pacing crowds.

It has been two standard weeks since the Death Star obliterated Alderaan, and just under a week and a half since the Death Star was, in turn, destroyed. “Victory is a gift to the survivors,” Jyn remembers Mon Mothma saying, tears streaming down her cheeks while her hands clutched a throw away piece of Death Star rubble.

Jyn, relief pounding in her chest, had bitten her tongue to keep from responding. Only when Mon Mothma had moved back to the warmth of the Council did Jyn duck her head and grumble, “Victory doesn’t bring back the dead.”

Read the rest in “In Plain Sight” on AO3

There’s a storm room in your mind. Lock the door and think!

DOCTOR:  Sorry I’m late. Jumped out of a window. Certain death. Don’t you want to know how I survived? Go on. Ask me! No, of course I had to jump! (…)

DOCTOR: Rule one of dying, don’t. Rule two, slow down. You’ve got the rest of your life. The faster you think, the slower it will pass. Concentrate. Assume you’re going to survive. Always assume that. Imagine you’ve already survived. There’s a storm room in your mind. Lock the door and think! 

Many joked the storm room was a very Sherlock thing. And, yes, EMP is inspired by the idea that Sherlock is actually dying and is trying to find the one path that will save him.

But, inside the Mind Palace, where is Sherlock storm room?

DOCTOR: This is my storm room. I always imagine that I’m back in my Tardis, showing off, telling you how I escaped, making you laugh. That’s what I’m doing right now. I am falling, Clara. I’m dying. And I am going to explain to you how I survived.

For the Doctor, this is his trusty TARDIS.

For Sherlock, it has to be Baker Street.

Didn’t the stairs in his mind lead him back to the front door after all?

The storm room is a safe house. The one last refuge, the one where the one you love is waiting for you, where you are absolutely safe and can show off.

The danger is gone, now is the time to be clever, to explain how you survived.

So, imagine how horrifying it blowing up can be. Because there is no more refuge, time to go to hell, wihout anything to protect you.

But guess what? As Sherlock starts playing ‘Who you really are’ with Eurus, they start rebuilding. And the damage isn’t that horrible.

John’s chair is toast, but yours is intact. You’ve managed to survive this devastation. All the symbol of what makes this place ‘home’ are there.

You can rebuild your storm room if something happens. You can stay there until you wake up. The people you love are there, you have your piece of happiness.

Your storm room is indestructible. And this is where you’re going to tell John how you are going to survive.


Monster and their dire counterparts

We have a large number monsters and beasties for Last Refuge, and most of them have or will have a larger, more “DIRE” counterpart. As you can see here we have the common wolves that roam the mines, but we also have a larger dire wolf. These guys have a rarer spawn rate and have abilities that the smaller ones do not have. 

One of the last refuges of someone whose pet project or per theory has been exposed as economic nonsense is to say : “ Economics is all very well and good  but there are also non-economic values to consider…Of course there are non-economic values. In fact there are only non-economic values. Economics is not a value in and of itself.  Economics does not say that you should make the most money possible. Many professors of economics could themselves make more money  in private industry…Adam Smith the father of laissez-faire gave substantial sums of his own money to less fortunate people, Henry Thornton,  one of the leading monetary economists of the 19th century and a banker by trade regularly gave away more than half his annual income. The first public libraries in New York city were  not established
by government but by Entrepreneur Andrew Carnegie. The United States which has come to epitomize capitalism in the eyes of many people around the world is unique in having hundreds of colleges, hospitals, foundations, libraries, museums and other institutions created by the donations of private individuals, many of these being people  who earned money in the marketplace then devoted much of it-sometimes most of it-to helping others…The market as a mechanism for the allocation of scarce resources among alternative uses is one thing; what one chooses to do with the resulting wealth is another.
—  Thomas Sowell,  Basic Economics.
The Importance of Going to the Symphony

Originally, I was going to finish up my series on “Five Most Famous Classical Composer Comparisons”. However, I could not do this without first describing an experience of a lifetime. This all took place Monday evening as I went with my family to see a concert by the Boston Philharmonic Youth Orchestra, conducted by Benjamin Zander. I had been to the symphony before when I saw younger and too inexperienced to truly appreciate the value of going to the symphony. On the program was Glinka’s “Russlan and Ludmilla Overture”, Stravinsky’s Violin Concerto, Debussy’s “La Mer”, and Tchaikovsky’s Fifth Symphony. Before the concert, I already knew that this was a great line up of orchestral masterpieces. 

So after an hour and a half wait outside, my family and I went into Symphony Hall. After finding our seats, we waited another 45 minutes. Finally, at 7:30 the concert began. The conductor leapt onto the podium and Glinka’s Overture began with a bang. Right away I was shocked with the grand, glorious motif. I had never heard anything by Glinka before, and never thought much of him. However, listening to this work performed right before me, I paid attention to the interweaving melodies. It was almost a game a catch between the strings and winds with the motif. One second it was the strings, then the brass, then the wood winds. It ended gloriously. The conductor, Zander then through an ailing microphone spoke to us. I laughed as he stressed caution with applauding between movements. Then came the Stravinsky Concerto. The soloist came onto the stage, dressed in fiery red. The four movement concerto concerto commenced. I had never liked Stravinsky’s music before. I always thought it to be too brash, too annoying, too loud. I did, however, understand his importance in music. However, I liked the first movement. The opening was beautiful and interesting. Then came the applause, much to the conductors anger, I could feel it. The two arias that followed were breathtaking. I sat in my seat in pure awe of the raw beauty of the arias. I thought to myself “this is of another world”. Then came the capriccio. I was solely amazed by the virtuosity of the soloist. After the duly deserved applause, I whispered to my mother, “Now I understand his genius”. 

Then what followed was, at least for me, Debussy’s anticipated “La Mer”. I was most interested in hearing this work most of all. I couldn’t wait to hear this live. I was not disappointed. The beautiful colors took my breath away. I could feel the sea, as cliche as it may sound. After the first movement the applause began. The conductor waved at the audience to stop. As a performer who often performs multiple movement works, I loved watching that. The pure melody was breathtaking. I couldn’t believe the ludic quality of music that the youth orchestra put forward. The next two movements were just as beautiful. I could only imagine the hundreds of hours put into this work. “La Mer” was followed by an intermission. After walking around, stretching my legs, I returned to my seat anticipating the Tchaikovsky Symphony. I had always regarded as a great composer, however I always favored Brahms’ style rather than Tchaikovsky’s. However every movement of the symphony was nothing short of a pure masterpiece. I heard such beautiful Russian Romantic melodies. The second movement tore my heart out. I can confidently say that I now lean my ear to Tchaikovsky as well as to Brahms. The end of the concert saw a 10 minute standing ovation for both the orchestra and the conductor. It was nothing short of pure magic. 

The reason why I am posting about this is to stress the importance of going to the symphony. If you are a classical musician, whether pianist, violinist, cellist, etc., seeing a performance is magic. There is no comparison to seeing a live concert over seeing a recorded one on YouTube. It is also essential to support our local orchestras as classical music is often seen as a dying art. It is essential to preserve the classical flame for the next generation. The symphony is one of last places of refuge for those seeking the most beautiful of the arts. No matter what will be performed, you will love it. Going to the symphony is like going to mass and listening to a beautiful sermon. So please, go to the symphony and watch magic performed right before your eyes.    

anonymous asked:

wow please get out of the smith college tag, people in our community don't need to see your hateful, discriminatory opinions.

Penis is not a female organ (if it was, I wouldn’t have taken hormones the last 20 years and gotten a “sex change”), and as someone who works in STEM and is perceived to be a woman, i support female-only educational institutions because I know first-hand how hostile mixed-sex environments are for women trying to get into STEM. The real discrimination is when men make sexist jokes during math class, so women start intentionally getting the answer wrong so they don’t stand out. Then when they graduate, the man becomes an engineer and makes $100,000 a year, and the woman becomes a high school teacher and makes $30,000.

Not to mention, if you don’t want to go to a female-only school, why not go somewhere else, instead of trying to dismantle one of the last academic refuges left for women born female?