Children. They were teaching children

Rowena, Godric, Salazar; they tended to forget that. They saw young minds, young acolytes - eyes that would look up to them. Not innocence. Not childish wonder.

Toughen them, said Godric.

Make them smart, said Rowena.

And ambitious, above all, said Salazar.

But war and the real world; that was not where children belonged. Aye, they would belong one day, but it was not their part to turn them cruel, make them hard, make their eyes dart sideways always looking for ways to twist the world to further their own ends. They were to protect them. Shield them from the worst so that some good, some kindness would find its way into an ever darkening world. To give them weapons and teach them how to use them, but never tell them that those weapons were their only hope.

She’d seen in all the battles she’d rode out to just how dark the world could be. Was it not their duty to bring light into this world? To fight darkness with light; not with more darkness - with divisiveness and strife and hatred?

I will take them all, she said. 

I will protect the ones you will not. I will save them. I will give them a home. They will be the last rays of all that is good in this world. I will teach them kindness. I will teach them loyalty. I will teach them selflessness.

I will teach them how to be the backbone, the heart of this world. I will teach them how to stand steadfast, when all hope is lost. 

I will teach them how to be human, to be more than just one single word.

No, she knew, theirs would not be an easy path, or a glorious one. They would have no songs. No great tales in books. No laurels. No consolation, no thanks.

But they would be the reason why, when the darkness finally came, all of them in all their different colours would stand shoulder to shoulder and draw their wands as brothers in arms.

Not for achievements. Not for trophies. Not for power.

For goodness. For hope.

And when the time came for them to choose the words that would forever guide the children that would come to them, Helga smiled and engraved, upon a bronze plaque, these words:

Draco dormiens nunquam titillandus.

(But her students remembered a very different set of words. Hogwarts will always be there to welcome you home.)

(Helga Hufflepuff requested by boney-eyes-jefferson)


Whose bad end is this again?

aka thoughts that keep me up at 2am if we had his ROUTE

Things go down when Chat Noire meets Chat Noir (sin)

dedicated to @rinrynren for reminding me of this ridiculous au


My height can be a problem. A lot of directors and photographers are sometimes not happy because I’m pretty tall and especially if I work with short actors the difference can be pretty massive.

i don’t want to clog yr dashes with a long string of caps, so all the highlights of yesterday’s NYC q&a with Rebecca Sugar that i posted on twitter!! (and here’s the video i got of her performing at the event!)

  • when asked if Sugilitie or Sardonyx is stronger: ‘DEFINITELY, definitely Sugilitie’ 
  • her animation inspo as a kid was looney tunes + simpsons, ‘a lot’ of anime, and canadian animation
  • when asked if she considered Rose Quartz to be a tragic hero in the classical sense: ‘NO. but more on that to come.
  • when asked about the possibility of an Adventure Time/SU crossover ep: ‘they take place in completely different universes!’ the crowd aww’d and someone yelled out ‘what about Uncle Grandpa?’ Rebecca responded ‘uncle grandpa crosses dimensions and realities! he can facilitate these things because of his interdimensional qualities!’
  • Rebecca learned about music playing irish music on the hammer dulcimer as a kid- she then said that she took piano lessons after that, but her teacher ‘hated her; because she would always switch out the classical sheets with irish music because she was used to playing it. she picked up the ukulele after that because she felt she just wanted to play SOMETHING, and the ukulele was easy!
  • someone asked what she had for dinner. she said pizza, because she’s in NYC. the crowd cheered for NYC pizza. 
  • people asked questions ‘will there be an episode about Lion’s origins/what exactly IS Lion’, and ofc she responded ‘i can’t tell you this!!’
  • a question that she said was ‘very specific’- in onion gang, Pearl is a contact on Steven’s phone, so does that mean that pearl got a phone? Rebecca said ‘that will be addressed in detail later.’
  • of SU’s characters, she said that she identifies with Ruby and Pearl the most. (and then, ‘does that seem weird?’)
  • with regards to future projects- Rebecca said that yes, there are things she wants to do, but she’s very focused on SU right now. 
  • with regards to future books based off of episodes, like ‘The Answer’, she said that there is another one she wants to do in the ‘far far future!’
  • a teacher, who was writing a lesson around ‘The Answer’, asked if there was any message that Rebecca would like to introduce the book with. she said that it would be ‘to consider what is considered good/bad/normal/expected- about the things that everybody thinks are normal, and how they don’t really work for everyone. and then how to make that different.’
  • as the last question, someone asked how it felt to be redefinig kids’ cartoons, and she gave an answer my notes don’t really do justice. i wish i had gotten it on video, but basically- Rebecca said that it was an honor to be referred to that way, and it feels really surreal. SU was the kind of cartoon she needed as a kid and she’s astonished at its success. she told us that she had felt very alone when she was younger; but it was hard to feel alone [with everyone] in this room now.

suitcase of memories
time after –

I just wanted to say that my inbox is an Alesha lovefest and that we are THANKFUL FOR YOU ALL. We’re overwhelmed by the positive response on James Wyatt’s story “The Truth of Names.” On behalf of Creative and everybody who works on Magic, I just wanted to say thanks, friends. Thanks for being awesome humans and for your enthusiastic/thoughtful/celebratory/giddy feedback about Magic’s first canonically trans character. Thanks for all your words of support and the high-fives and heck-yeahs, and for being the kinds of fans that creators dream of creating for. Alesha is busy slaying four-winged dragons and leading the fearsome Mardu and kicking various other forms of ass right now, otherwise she would thank you, too.

-Doug, Who Smiles Through Tears


“C’mon! Your heaven is somebody else’s Thanksgiving. Okay. It’s bailing on your family. What do you want me to say?” (5x16)


And so it begins… remember that Baltimore is NOT Ferguson. This is in the backyard of the nation’s capitol, and I have no doubt that the Maryland National Guard will respond with force is they feel justified. 

Prayers to protesters fighting for their city and against wanton destruction of their homes. Prayers to rioters who feel like there’s no other resolution or pathway to justice but the one they’ve undertaken. Prayers to Baltimore, that change is possible WITHOUT the city burning. More to come. #staywoke #farfromover


Osomatsu-san Phone Wallpapers [540 x 960]
Please like/reblog if using. Don’t claim as your own or use for other purposes. Don’t post anywhere else. Enjoy~

He’s alone when it happens. Dean has ensconced himself in the library, going through the same five books over and over in hopes that they will turn up something new, and Sam needs some time to work the kinks out of his shoulders and to try for a new burst of inspiration, away from the constant reminders his brain sends him that Lucifer is back he could come for you any time he wants and you’ll be utterly powerless to stop him, just like the last time. So he makes his way to his room, crouching down almost automatically to tug out the small wooden chest from underneath his bed. The weight of it in his lap provides a strange form of comfort as he sits down, and he lets his hand linger on the clasp for a moment, a single finger running across the slightly uneven surface. Flipping it open, he moves that same finger along the assortment of oddities which dwell within, letting the familiar memories wash through him, a temporary release from the stifling pressure he has been feeling of late. People are still dying, and the world is still going to hell, but these small snippets of the past serve to remind him of the future he is fighting for. A wave of sudden calm encompasses his chest and he shifts aside the top layer, reaching down deeper in a deliberately lazy, meandering search through the different scenes each item conjures to mind. When he reaches the bottom layer, though, his hand jerks back of its own accord and a sharp hiss escapes his mouth.

Something is hot.

It takes a couple of seconds for him to work past his wariness before he reaches back in, pressing down on the sudden flicker of fear that the sensation was all just his mind playing tricks on him again. The item is still there, however, its shape almost more familiar than his own body has proven to be, and he draws it out with a sudden jerk, the raw heat forcing him to toss it straight onto his mattress. An echo of words spoken years beforehand rings through his head, and for a moment it’s almost like he’s back there again- twenty-six years old and newly disgraced, standing in a crowded hospital room as an Angel of the Lord discusses their futile plans to clean up Sam’s mess.

“I did come for something. An Amulet.

“Very rare. Very powerful.

“It burns hot in God’s presence.”

Something tingles at the base of his neck, and Sam spins around, eyes widening as he takes in the vaguely humanoid shimmer of light in the centre of his room. Multitudes of faces and forms flicker through it almost faster than he is able to register, and for a moment he could almost swear he sees Kevin’s face among them. Then the shifting stops, coming to rest on a body he hasn’t seen in almost six years. His brain grinds to a shuddering halt.


“Hello, Sam.”

The form is Chuck’s. The voice is Chuck’s. But there’s something extra in there, too- a rich, warm power the prophet himself had never shown- and Sam just knows.


“Got it in one.”

The entire world seems to freeze. There’s a thrill of electric power practically buzzing in the air, and Sam is painfully aware of just how dirty he must seem- this filthy little not-quite human, unkempt and undoubtedly repulsive, right down to the core. He can practically feel the taint of his blood. The stain it has undoubtedly left on his soul. He, of all things, has no right to be before God, of all beings, not with all the crap he had pulled in his life. Not with what he is.

God’s brow furrows in what looks eerily similar to empathetic grief. “No, Sam. Don’t think like that. Please.”

He can barely speak past the stubborn lump in his throat. “What- what are you doing here?”

God smiles, at once both unassuming and awe-inspiring. “I need your help, Sam.”