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Photo reblogged from Where do you get your ideas from?
It’s the Lord of the Rings fan in me saying this, but while I find the God Tier moments totally triumphant I think this picture is a really important element in the whole thing (my personal take on it, anyway) because something warm and sweet and young is lost when Gandalf the Grey is reborn as Gandalf the White.
It’s the same reason I sob at the end of Pan’s Labyrinth even though Del Toro has said that he believes the film’s fairy realm is real and not just a dying child’s imagination. It’s the part of The Lovely Bones I sobbed at hardest when I saw it, when Susie awakens in her heaven and she’s so luminous that she literally glows but she isn’t human anymore, she was a little girl and then she died and now she’s perfect but something precious and vital was burned away forever.
I mean, Origins and Overtures exists within the Wolf House series essentially so that no matter how much Bette and Jay have later in the story, no matter what good things happen, the full cost of that first initiating loss is properly understood by the reader.
And okay tl;dr I know I know, but basically: for each of the gods that are born, a child has died. Vriska bled to death slowly, her consciousness screaming as she pleaded for a mercy killing. Aradia was murdered, the boy she loved used as the weapon.
And the kids are the saddest of all, because we know the kids best. We watch them being silly and young and exasperated by their guardians and teasing one another and being earnest and brave and reckless and stick fake arms in a cake.
And then we watch them die.
And even if they rise again as gods after that… well, who ever heard of a god getting an ordinary thirteen-year-old happy ending?
(Source: yoccu)
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Post reblogged from magpie's nest
Mai and Zuko got married, obviously, and the first thing Mai did when she moved into the Palace was adopt a cat. She named it “Your Honor”, simply so she could go around the palace shouting
“Zuko, I can’t find Your Honor! Zuko, do you know where Your Honor is? Zuko, you have to get Your Honor down from that tree! Zuko, Your Honor is terrorizing the turtle ducks again.”
no no no no no
she isn’t SHOUTING, Mai does not shout! She simply walks about and INFORMS HIM OF THESE FACTS with the most perfectly straight face in the history of the world, just says all this COMPLETELY DEADPAN while Zuko turns like eight fascinating colors and all the servants in the background look at each other out of the corners of their eyes and struggle not to say a word, not a WORD, do not snicker, do not even TWITCH, this is the ROYAL FAMILY and their imperial dignity must be respected
(this lasts until Aang and everyone else are visiting during one of these escapades and hear Mai say this, whereupon Katara dissolves into giggles, Toph ROARS, Sokka and Aang basically fall over and DIE, every servant in the wing of the palace finally loses their battle not to notice any of this, and Zuko is about to storm out when Mai starts smiling and he has to put all his WOUNDED DIGNITY on hold to make out with her then and there)
(Aang and Toph immediately start pelting them with everything on hand, probably rice)
(Some hits Sokka and Katara who respond in kind, Mai retaliates, Zuko gives in to being a kid and covers his wife while she hurls vegetables, and the servants either duck a lot or join in, I’m not sure, but either way after everyone has left they all look at each other and DISSOLVE INTO PURE HYSTERIA)
Yes. Best headcanon.
(Source: potlatl)
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Photo reblogged from Take a Bow
They told me the big black Lab’s name was Reggie, as I looked at him lying in his pen. The shelter was clean, no-kill, and the people really friendly. I’d only been in the area for six months, but everywhere I went in the small college town, people were welcoming and open. Everyone waves when you pass them on the street.
But something was still missing as I attempted to settle in to my new life here, and I thought a dog couldn’t hurt. Give me someone to talk to. And I had just seen Reggie’s advertisement on the local news. The shelter said they had received numerous calls right after, but they said the people who had come down to see him just didn’t look like “Lab people,” whatever that meant. They must’ve thought I did.
But at first, I thought the shelter had misjudged me in giving me Reggie and his things, which consisted of a dog pad, bag of toys almost all of which were brand new tennis balls, his dishes and a sealed letter from his previous owner.
See, Reggie and I didn’t really hit it off when we got home. We struggled for two weeks (which is how long the shelter told me to give him to adjust to his new home). Maybe it was the fact that I was trying to adjust, too.
Maybe we were too much alike.
I saw the sealed envelope. I had completely forgotten about that. “Okay, Reggie,” I said out loud, “let’s see if your previous owner has any advice.”
____________ _________ _________ _________
To Whomever Gets My Dog:
Well, I can’t say that I’m happy you’re reading this, a letter I told the shelter could only be opened by Reggie’s new owner. I’m not even happy writing it. He knew something was different.
So let me tell you about my Lab in the hopes that it will help you bond with him and he with you.
First, he loves tennis balls. The more the merrier. Sometimes I think he’s part squirrel, the way he hoards them. He usually always has two in his mouth, and he tries to get a third in there. Hasn’t done it yet. Doesn’t
matter where you throw them, he’ll bound after them, so be careful. Don’t do it by any roads.
Next, commands. Reggie knows the obvious ones —-“sit,” “stay,” “come,” “heel.”
He knows hand signals, too: He knows “ball” and “food” and “bone” and “treat” like nobody’s business.
Feeding schedule: twice a day, regular store-bought stuff; the shelter has the brand.
He’s up on his shots. Be forewarned: Reggie hates the vet. Good luck getting him in the car. I don’t know how he knows when it’s time to go to the vet, but he knows.
Finally, give him some time. It’s only been Reggie and me for his whole life. He’s gone everywhere with me, so please include him on your daily car rides if you can. He sits well in the backseat, and he doesn’t bark or complain. He just loves to be around people, and me most especially.
And that’s why I need to share one more bit of info with you…His name’s not Reggie. He’s a smart dog, he’ll get used to it and will respond to it, of that I have no doubt. But I just couldn’t bear to give them his real name. But if someone is reading this … well it means that his new owner should know his real name. His real name is “Tank.” Because, that is what I drive.
I told the shelter that they couldn’t make “Reggie” available for adoption until they received word from my company commander. You see, my parents are gone, I have no siblings, no one I could’ve left Tank with .. and it was my only real request of the Army upon my deployment to Iraq, that they make one phone call to the shelter … in the “event” … to tell them that Tank could be put up for adoption. Luckily, my CO is a dog-guy, too, and he knew where my platoon was headed. He said he’d do it personally. And if you’re reading this, then he made good on his word.
Tank has been my family for the last six years, almost as long as the Army has been my family. And now I hope and pray that you make him part of your family, too, and that he will adjust and come to love you the same way he
loved me.
If I have to give up Tank to keep those terrible people from coming to the US I am glad to have done so. He is my example of service and of love. I hope I honored him by my service to my country and comrades.
All right, that’s enough. I deploy this evening and have to drop this letter off at the shelter. Maybe I’ll peek in on him and see if he finally got that third tennis ball in his mouth.
Good luck with Tank. Give him a good home, and give him an extra kiss goodnight - every night - from me.
Thank you,
Paul Mallory
____________ _________ _________ _______
I folded the letter and slipped it back in the envelope. Sure, I had heard of Paul Mallory, everyone in town knew him, even new people like me. Local kid, killed in Iraq a few months ago and posthumously earning the Silver
Star when he gave his life to save three buddies. Flags had been at half-mast all summer.
I leaned forward in my chair and rested my elbows on my knees, staring at the dog.
“Hey, Tank,” I said quietly.
The dog’s head whipped up, his ears cocked and his eyes bright.
“C’mere boy.”
He was instantly on his feet, his nails clicking on the hardwood floor. He sat in front of me, his head tilted, searching for the name he hadn’t heard in months. “Tank,” I whispered.
His tail swished.
I kept whispering his name, over and over, and each time, his ears lowered, his eyes softened, and his posture relaxed as a wave of contentment just seemed to flood him. I stroked his ears, rubbed his shoulders, buried my
face into his scruff and hugged him.
“It’s me now, Tank, just you and me. Your old pal gave you to me.” Tank reached up and licked my cheek.
“So whatdaya say we play some ball?” His ears perked again.
“Yeah? Ball? You like that? Ball?”
Tank tore from my hands and disappeared into the next room. And when he came back, he had three tennis balls in his mouth.”That’s not even fair, I’m sobbing. Just fucking sitting here sobbing…
(Source: stephaniekilbury)
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Photo reblogged from A gentle song
Headdress & Winged Harness designed and made by Rob Goodwin
Costume Design: David Bamber Photographer: Diego Indraccolo Ballerina: Ksenia Ovsyanick
Reblogging a second time. Don’t even care.
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Photoset reblogged from When words become unclear.photographer: diego indraccolodesigner: rob goodwinI want to mention that the young woman who wears this wonderful stage costumes, are not a professional mannequin, which is a famous ballerina and true professional and his body is made of muscles for an art of the most difficult the dance! ! this outfit is an outfit for a ballet dance arts, the headdress is meant as a fashion model.This is amazing and what I hope for in a career. Not the model.
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Link reblogged from we have reached the open seawe have reached the open sea: "Wandering Around an Albuquerque Airport Terminal" by Naomi Shihab Nye
After learning my flight was detained 4 hours,
I heard the announcement:
If anyone in the vicinity of gate 4-A understands any Arabic,
Please come to the gate immediately.
Well — one pauses these days. Gate 4-A was my own gate. I went there.
An older woman in full traditional… -
Video reblogged from She Goes Ding When There's Stuff
Loved this
This video. Is the most amazing video. I have ever seen. The end… is perfect. It’s almost too beautiful.
VERY GOOD
WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT
WHAT
WHAT??????????????????????
This is amazing wow
oh my god.
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Photo reblogged from Being Human Confessions
How was Owen a “bad-ass” by any metric? He abused and murdered an unfailingly kind, physically weaker person. He was a bully and a coward. As soon as he was confronted by more powerful creatures, he turned tail and ran. His sanity cracked under a secret the woman he killed carried around with a smile since she woke up dead.
See, I actually found him physically attractive for the first few episodes. As soon as we realized what he’d done to Annie, what their relationship was really like, I not only lost any aesthetic appreciation for him, I started to find him physically repulsive. Seeing his face makes me literally nauseous, and he’s just a fictional abuser.
(Source: beinghuman-confessions)
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Photoset reblogged from Women to the Front
For anyone who only sees gender and sex in black and white, here’s proof by the lovely humon that nature is just as fluid with representations of gender and sex as we are.
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Photoset reblogged from the best possible day to die hardest
to this day, I think Azula is probably one of the most interesting villains. Ever.One of the really fabulous things about ATLA that I think is sometimes overlooked is not just this character arc, Azula’s character arc, which is often discussed, but rather the subtle and subtly evolving character arcs afforded each of the dangerous ladies, from Mai’s silent struggles with the repressive restrictions put upon her by her parents and how slowly as the series progresses she begins to break through to Ty Lee’s lack of a personal identity and almost instinctive molding of herself to meet the expectations of others—how they see her and what they think of her—to, of course, this: Azula.
Azula is introduced as the favored child to unwanted Zuko, the prodigy to whom firebending comes naturally where Zuko struggles and struggles with it, the natural successor to Ozai and Zuko, her opposite, the exiled prince. She’s cool, detached, amused by the struggles of others, in every way privileged over them and so certain of her absolute power that she repeatedly and willfully overrides the advice and suggestions of others, at times to her detriment. She’s cruel, even to the two girls closest to her, Mai and Ty Lee. She assumes loyalty from them (and affection from Ty Lee) and rarely allows them kindnesses (and when she does allow kindness, she only ever allows it to Ty Lee—who she also threatened till Ty Lee agreed to join her); it never once occurs to her that they might not follow her in all things. She is absolute.
But she’s also lonely and as much a victim of Ozai’s abuse as Zuko, though the abuse they each suffered took very, very different forms. Both were emotionally neglected in unique ways. Zuko was shunned, physically struck down, turned aside. Azula was elevated by her father and coddled by him, but in this, she was also removed from the love and guidance others—like her mother—could offer her. Ozai encouraged what flaws existed within Azula as strengths, and furthermore he encouraged her to think of others not as people, but as tools. Through Ozai, she learned to command fear of others instead of asking love of them; through Ozai, she learned to prioritize her own skill, her own power, her own—wholeness in herself, that she believed she needed nothing but herself. And certainly he provided her with ample demonstration of this: Ozai saw his own family as tools. Zuko dispensable, a sacrifice. Iroh dispensable, too. His own wife, Ursa, a tool to be manipulated to kill his own father, the man who blocked his path to the throne. Of course Azula would grow thinking that people were tools at her disposal: weapons to be used or obstacles to be broken.
And more than anything else, her relationship with Ursa is this quiet, subtle thread running through all of it. In “Zuko Alone,” we see how Ozai has already begun to favor Azula and spurn Zuko, how Ozai more than Ursa guides Azula. We see Ursa, frustrated and exasperated with Azula’s behavior—her disregard for the safety of her friends, her casual cruelty to Zuko, all encouraged and condoned by Ozai—thoughtlessly say that she doesn’t understand what’s wrong with Azula. And—well, for me, personally, I don’t think Ursa was abusive; I don’t think she favored Zuko over Azula, but rather that she tried to compensate for the obvious disdain and disfavor Ozai showed Zuko, and that she was truly at a loss as to what to do to help Azula or how to do it without contradicting Ozai. But when a parent says something like that—when a parent says there’s something wrong with you, or they, in frustration, say or imply that you’re irreversibly flawed—that sticks. It hurts. It wounds. And then Ursa vanished, and Azula was still just a child; she was nine, and her strongest memories of her mother shortly before her mother vanished—died, for all Azula knew, and certainly Ozai never spoke of Ursa to either of his children after—were that her mother thought her wrong. And between that and her father’s grooming of her, his teaching her that she was always right, the emotional distance he gave her even as he praised her, the competition he encouraged between her and Zuko, whom Azula perceived as favored over her by their mother (when Azula had been taught by her father that she was the smart child, the strong child, the best child), and the lack of real, true affection in her life (which certainly Ozai would never have encouraged—love a weakness, to be feared a sign of power and strength)—just. She would have told herself it didn’t matter. She didn’t need love. She didn’t need her mother’s love. Love is weakness. Caring for others is weakness. Wanting love of them is weakness.
But she did want love. She wanted her mother to love her. She didn’t want her mother to think her wrong, to think her a monster. She wanted her mother to love her as her mother loved Zuko. And then her mother was gone.
And of course, then, when she thinks she will be at Ozai’s side when they literally raze the Earth Kingdom, when he tells her she will not go with him, she says, “You can’t treat me like Zuko.” She’s supposed to be the favored child. She’s supposed to be the child Ozai loves, the child of whom he’s proud. And he leaves her behind. Then he tells her she will be the new Fire Lord, and Azula is, for that moment, truly speechless, truly touched—but he gives himself power over her, still, as the Phoenix King—because he will always have that power over her, because he does not trust her, because he does not love her, because to Ozai, even Azula is a tool. And it’s just—ugh! When people ignore that Azula is a victim of abuse, too, because she IS. She was deprived of love; she was deprived of guidance; she was only ever a tool to Ozai, his perfect child groomed to serve him that he might cement his own power.
Just—BLEGH. Azula’s entire arc is about fear and power and the absence of love and deception but especially self-deception, and it’s about wanting love when she doesn’t really know how to love, because nobody loved her; nobody taught her. All she ever knew was fear.
(None of this, of course, justifies or excuses the atrocities she commits or attempts to commit through the course of the series. But nor do those atrocities erase the tragedy of her own life. I JUST REALLY LOVE AZULA, SORRY.)
(Source: benditlikebolin)
