That’s an interesting idea! Maybe It would try and turn the Losers against the other people of the town (they are, after all, not humans, it should really be no concern of theirs what It eats, Stan needs to drink blood after all, in some literature, werewolves have to eat human flesh…). 

It gets quickly shot down by the Losers, though, because It ate Georgie, who was a inhuman being like them. (Maybe Bill and George were some kind of fae mix?)
25 September 2017 @ 05:03 am
25 September 2017 @ 03:53 am



Daryl Davis is a Chicago blues musician, who uses his friendship with KKK to convince members to leave this organization. He successfully persuaded 25 former white supremacists that there’s another way. Davis has his own strategy, he explains and talks to people in more than friendly way, that allows to prevent usual misunderstanding. 

‘They may be yelling and screaming or pounding the table, but at least they’re talking, they’re not fighting.’

Davis choose to disarm them with polite conversation and smile. And this worked out. 

It doesn’t mean he’s anti-Black, he just chose his own path. No need to spread fake facts. This is very important!


He has a great story on the podcast snap judgement def worth a listen (also snap judgement is pure gold)

Yes, thank you, I dug through the reblogs to find this mention, because in the Snap Judgement episode, he talks about what it took to get someone like a Grand Wizard in the KKK to talk to him like a human being, and it’s not something that just everyone off the street could do to the average KKK member, and it was not without cost! He got harassed, assaulted, and arrested outside of a Klan club by racist cops. Klan members regularly brought weaponry to interviews with him, and sometimes pointed those weapons at him while threatening him. He endured endless slurs and insults, both casual and pointed. He kept his cool under circumstances when most people wouldn’t be able to.

It wasn’t sunshine and kittens, because KKK members are not uwu widdle babbes who just need a fwend, they are violent dickheads and it takes an extraordinary person to handle them with confidence and chill.

And all of you in the comments blithering about how “this is how you stop facism/racism/nazis,” take note: white supremacists should not expect to be able to run roughshod over the rights of others until someone extraordinary with the patience of a saint and balls as big as all outdoors changes their minds. It would be great if they do change their minds, but until then, we should all be concerned with making sure they don’t take over and kill more people.

Those of us with privilege should be protecting those without, no matter what. Don’t allow abuse to go on without response because it doesn’t feel “loving/peaceful/non-violent” to stop it.

Here’s a link to the episode, it’s amazing, and Daryl Davis is amazing.
via Maria Left Puerto Rico Absolutely Devastated:


The communication outage by Hurricane Maria made news come very slowly…

But the news are VERY BAD, folks.

What Irma didn’t wipe, Maria finished.

No electricity, no communication, not even road connectivity.



this is my favorite poem from milk and honey !

this always touches me

edgar allan poe?? sorry i read REAL poetry
25 September 2017 @ 01:09 am

Hello tumblr, I’ve got another person in need of help but this one goes a bit beyond asking for donations.

I’ve got an Autistic, queer, disabled person looking for help but who needs to remain anonymous for this post in case their abusive family finds out what they are doing. They’re currently living with their family who have been stealing their SSI benefits, and also siding with a sibling who recently threatened to kill them and has enacted physical and mental violence against them. It’s not been good fam, not good at all.

Our friend is trying to get to North Carolina where they have some friends while they try to sort things out, but unfortunately their friends cannot have them staying with them at this present time. What we are basically asking is:

does anyone have a spare room or even a couch for a queer disabled person to crash while they recover from being mentally and physically assaulted by their family? Or even know of a place in North Carolina where they could get help? 

They have no money at the moment and wouldn’t be able to pay but I’m trying to find ways to fundraise for them or to help them get their SSI back. We’re kind of at a loss here, and while they do have some support from their fiancée in the UK (where they eventually intend to try and get to) they are pretty much unable to work and have no means of supporting themselves until they are able to get their SSI benefits back from their family.

In their own words “I don’t even need a room, just enough space for an inflatable bed. I’m very clean and quiet and I won’t bother anyone. I’ll do chores if I’m physically capable of doing them, like folding laundry and doing the dishes. Pets are okay but no children preferred bc I am immuno-compromised and kids can bring home all kinds of fun things but I’m also desperate. My fiancée is trying to help but she’s in the UK and also disabled. I just don’t know what to do anymore.”

If anyone could help or knows someone who could or an organization we could contact, please PM me. I’m also going to leave a link to their paypal down below in case anyone has a few spare dollars they can offer, but please, only give what you can. And if you can’t give, please boost. Thank you <3
25 September 2017 @ 01:09 am


I don’t think I’ve ever written this down before. This is the story of the first time I played a shofar (as I remember it, not as it happened).

So it’s the mid 90s and I’m in primary school (‘elementary’, my dear yanks). We were doing Religious Education and learning about Judaism, I think for the first time. The teacher didn’t really know anything about Judaism that wasn’t written in the book, so he kept asking me, since I was the Only Jewish Kid In The Class (only jewish kid in the school in fact, except my sister). I wasn’t very religious, but I was doing my best to make up reasonable sounding answers. Anyway, the school had somehow got hold of a shofar. (If anyone’s religious education wasn’t up to the stellar standards of mine, the shofar is the ram’s horn that’s blown like a trumpet as part of the ceremony of certain jewish holy days). The shofar was passed around the class, and of course, hygene be damned, everyone tried to play it. But it’s not an easy instrument to play, there’s more to it than just blowing. So everyone is puffing and wheezing and red in the face, and the best anyone can get out of this thing is a pitiful squeak. But we’ve all just seen the guy on the VHS tape with the hat and odd hairstyle blowing it, and we heard the tooting noise come out of the tinny little speakers of the TV on the wheely cart, so we know this isn’t right. Is our shofar broken or something? Is it blocked up?

Finally the shofar gets around to me, and I am psyched all the way up. I haven’t played a shofar before, but I’m determined to get some kind of noise out of this damn thing, because my heritage is looking silly right now. The burden of upholding the dignity of Judaism itself falls upon my narrow shoulders. So, I take the biggest breath I possibly can, and put the shofar to my lips. Everyone’s looking at me, because I’m The Only Jewish Kid In The Class. And the thing that nobody in the room (including me) is thinking about, is the fact that I’m also The Only Trumpet-Player Kid In The Class. I only know one way to blow into an instrument. It happens to be the right way. And I do it, just as hard as I possibly can.

If you haven’t heard a shofar played properly in person, it’s not easy to describe. Recordings don’t capture it at all. Maybe it’s just because you usually hear it in a context of fasting and extreme reverence, but nonetheless a shofar blast (and that’s what they call it, a “blast”) is an amazing sound. The shofar sounds like raw naked power, it sounds like righteous fury. It sounds like more noise than a single human could ever make, yet it has a property like a human voice, like a bellow, a howl, like a newly bereaved mother splitting her lungs with blood and thunder. It’s a BIG sound, in the sense that it’s very loud, but also in the sense that it seems to fill whatever space it’s in, to come from all directions at once. It makes sense that the ancients gave it religious significance. When you hear the shofar’s call, the story of the Walls of Jerico tumbling down doesn’t seem that crazy.

So, it’s not possible to play a shofar quietly, and I’m giving the thing everything I’ve got in a little red brick classroom in southeast london. I can feel the room resonate and shake, hear the single-glazed windows rattle in their frames. I’m having a great time - this is the loudest noise I’ve ever made in my short life! And it’s in school! And I’m allowed to do it! So I keep going as hard as I can until my little lungs give out. I remember surfacing, out of breath and grinning, and listening as the antique cast-iron pipes throughout the building slowly stopped reverberating over the slack-jawed silence of the room.

The kids of course have seen enough TV to know exactly what happened. The Shofar knew I was Jewish. Obviously it’s not going to unleash that kind of unearthly sonic firepower for just anyone. Shofars only work for Jews. And the teacher is like “…That doesn’t sound right… but I don’t know enough about Judaism to dispute it?”. I didn’t offer any other explanations, because why would you demystify your Mystic Jew Powers?

And I’m writing this because I just realised that there were perhaps 30 kids in that class, and there just aren’t very many jews in southeast london to set them right, so it’s quite possible that there’s at least one 25 year old adult out there who still believes that the Shofar is a Holy Sacred Artefact which will Sound its Mighty Voice for none other than God’s Own Chosen People. And that cracks me up.

bringing this back for a happy new year

24 September 2017 @ 05:08 pm
It's been interesting to watch the brouhaha about the NFL controversy. The saddest thing is that this is just another example of Trump's attempts at misdirection. He could care less what the players are doing on the field. He sure as heck doesn't care about them as human beings. If he did he wouldn't whine that they're not playing rough enough since the newest safety measures were put in place to try and keep them from incurring such severe brain damage from the hits they take during the games.

My father fought in World War II, my brother fought, and died, in Vietnam, to earn, and continue to support, every US citizen's right to peacefully protest. Whether you agree with them or not, they have the right to protest what they perceive as a racial injustice. It's part of the freedom we enjoy living in this country.
Well, let’s try the dragonrider one - and let’s hope the ghost of Anne McCaffrey will not come to haunt me with a tent peg for my sinful thoughts about her universe…

1. Michael was the son of a smallholder, who was left orphan when the family home burned. A big, strapping boy, he was sent to Smith Hall to be an apprentice - except, well, eventually they caught him starting one fire too many. An orphan without connections and suddenly retrospectively thought guilty of his family’s deaths, he was sent into exile to the Eastern Ring Islands.

2. Leonard was the son of a man who called himself a trader to get into markets - a man, who, when he eventually was caught, let his son take the fall for his crimes. Leonard was sent into exile to the Eastern Ring Islands, holdless and disowned by his father.

3. The two teenage boys found themselves fast allies in the tropical hellhole that is basically Pern’s maximum security jail. Somehow, they managed to befriend a dolphin, which helped them to escape back to the Northern Continent, where a life full of petty crime and sneaking ended with Leonard having a clever plan to steal from the guests at the local Weyr’s hatching.

4. Which is how two un-Searched youths ended up Impressing. Which in itself was a bit of a scandal, especially once the Weyrleader found out exactly what sort of young men had made their way into his Weyr.

5. Admittedly, the scandal would have been a lot smaller - Weyrs are used to ending up with odd characters from Searches - if only Michael and Leonard had managed to Impress appropriately green and blue dragons. Instead, M’ick was now the rider of bronze Heath, while L’en was happily bonded to brown Snarth.

6. Eventually, M’ick and L’en settle down as the Wingleaders (really, it should be M’ick, except he always lets L’en take the lead, especially since M’ick’s pyromania is - an issue in the field) of a Wing mostly composed of whichever misfits and undesirables the various Weyrs have wanted rid of. Too small, too odd, to rebellious, too female (Shawna’s the first woman to Impress a Green this Pass). They make it work.

7. Barry’s a Runner. He met M’ick and L’en one day when he dared to attempt to make a delivery of life-saving medicines to a small, remote Hold on a day where Thread decided to start falling just that bit earlier than expected. They took Barry back home to the Weyr to get treated for his injuries - a bit of Thread burn and a bit of normal burn - and ended up seducing the wide-eyed youth with their wicked Weyr ways.

Kylemore Abbey, Ireland (by Petersunberg66)






Reblog in 40 seconds and you will be put on the path to achieve your dreams and find your fortune


Can’t hurt.


I’ve been rolling in the dough lately so it seems like these things are working 🙏🏻

No they literally work

when ppl act like leaving gifts for fairies is to get the fairies’ attention so they’ll be kind to you~~ when really leaving gifts for fairies is the supernatural equivalent of a mafia protection racket
24 September 2017 @ 06:38 pm


“I am a simple person with simple wants,” I say, scrolling through AO3 and ignoring fics for a variety of petty reasons

I am a simple person with simple but very specific wants.
24 September 2017 @ 06:16 pm
So...third largest party in parliament...sometimes I still hate people so much...



This is the lucky clover cat. reblog this in 30 seconds & he will bring u good luck and fortune.



I’m convinced bc I reblogged this on Friday, got hired at a job I had a million interviews for, went on a first date that went well, and got kissed a billion times so like hell ya to the luck cat
24 September 2017 @ 07:58 am



y’all: finally the EVIL summer is over!!!!!!!! getting ready for my one true bae fall!!!!!! pumpkin spice and aesthetic here i COME!!!!!!

me, a northener: 

me, a southerner:

me, a Californian:



As a fanfic author, my number one goal in life is to make someone so emotional with my fic they have to use this gif to describe how they feel:
24 September 2017 @ 01:43 am

Born Anger and Vengeance – fantasy concept by Benjamin Ee  


More Divine Vengeance concepts.

Pierre-Paul Prud'hon (Cluny 1758-1823 Paris), Justice and Divine Vengeance Pursuing Crime, 1808, Louvre Museum

Tags: ,

Pairing of the star Hen 2-427 with the nebula M1-67 surrounding it. Image captured by the Hubble Telescope.
Image credit: ESA/Hubble, NASA
Full image-feature here
23 September 2017 @ 06:08 pm

“Gardens by the Bay, Singapore”




Fred Rogers Acceptance Speech - 1997

Our neighbor didn’t die, he was just needed someplace else.

He took a moment that was about recognizing him and turned it into a moment to recognize everyone who was there and everyone who made it possible for him to do what he does. If you want a perfect example of why he is so fondly remembered and such a great person, it’s tough to find a better one than this.

I say this kindly, but if you wanna land in my inbox and ask me questions that lead me to think you even remotely might be looking for ammunition to use against me, or someone else, or that you are trying to feel out my position on some problematic Tumblr personality, I’m gonna just delete it.  Doesn’t matter what my actual opinion is.

No lie, I have three of these kinds of messages in my inbox and IDK what’s up with that, but I’m not getting out of the car.

There is some interpersonal drama on this site I will not come near for love or money because it is absolutely savage all around.  It doesn’t matter what “side” I’m on, I’m still not putting my foot in that mess just to satisfy someone else’s curiosity about where I stand, because there is no “side” that doesn’t come with the inconvenience of getting attacked by mostly perfectly decent people and the lessening of my faith in humanity that ensues.

Y’all can probably surmise where I stand on most things based on the sorts of things I reblog.  My blog is a pretty accurate instrument with which to gauge my outrage and my sense of humor.  You shouldn’t use it to draw conclusions about what I think of individual Tumblr people.

Reblogging something doesn’t mean I agree with all the politics of every single person who contributed to the thread, even if I agree with the point they made on that post.  Saying “soandso is trash but this thread is good” and proving myself virtuous by denouncing sinners every time I open my mouth is just not a thing I’m prepared to do anymore.  I’m old now, and I get tired.

“Do you think smacking beehives with sticks is good or bad?” is a valid question I would probably be willing to answer, although I really think you should probably be able to guess where I stand (Nazis are bad, abuse is bad, bigotry is bad, cats are the best pets, etc.) and if you disagree with these basic things, in the words of @elodieunderglass​, I do not think you will like my blog very much.

“Soandso is a terrible person who smacks beehives/does not smack beehives, jsyk,” is something I prefer not to have to deal with because wow, do I ever not have the spoons for drama. I will take action if I think I need to, though I probably will not respond, nor should you ask me to.  Leave that up to me.

“Soandso has taken part in problematic bee discourse, and just now I saw that they were in a thread you reblogged.  Would you care to make a comment?” is … not a thing that gives me good feelings, whether I agree with beehive-smacking or not.  “Did you know about Soandso’s beehive-smacking?  It bothers me that you would support/denounce them/their act by reblogging this thing!” makes me kind of annoyed because wow, that hostility isn’t necessary.  “Stop defending/denouncing Soandso/beehive smacking! You’re awful!” makes me angry, because usually I haven’t defended or denounced anyone.  The content is just there among other content, and I’m interacting with some other aspect of it.  (Like, I’ve actually never gotten a message about this over any of the times I’ve actually done such a thing.  It’s all been jumping to conclusions based on proximity. That’s kind of fucked up, when you think about it.)

If you want to know what I think of beehives, ask.  If you want to warn me about bees or sticks in general, warn me.  If you think I need to know that Soandso specifically is Team Free Bees (or Team Smack Those Hives), tell me.  But don’t make me feel singled out, and don’t ask me to single anyone else out, publicly OR privately.  I understand why you are doing what you are doing, but it’s disturbing to be asked, even in a roundabout way, to shun someone publicly when they are not a public figure, or to be expected to pass/fail some weird ideological purity test I didn’t even consent to taking in the first place.

If you take issue with how I run my garbage blog, and suspect I might be on the “wrong” side of the bee/stick equation, and this is really troubling you, please unfollow and block me so you aren’t bothered by having to wonder. I promise I won’t be offended.  There are tons of other really cool blogs to follow.
23 September 2017 @ 04:30 pm
Two actors I love, and a writer-director I don't. I'm not saying I hate Taylor Sheridan, but his previous films haven't really appealed to me. But this one seemed different. Or maybe I'm just a sucker for snow.

Continued on my blog
23 September 2017 @ 09:48 am




Today has been a good day. I have managed to get my hands on not only The Book of Lost Tales but also Morgoth’s Ring. Specifically, the section entitled ‘Of the Laws and Customs Among the Eldar’. Which has sparked various thoughts regarding mine and @elenothar​ ‘s ongoing Lord of the Rings/Fantastic Beasts and Where To Find Them worldbuild. See below for some of my musings!

Canonically, Eluréd and Elurín were six or seven years old when the Second Kinslaying descended upon Dorianth. However, it is also canonical that elvish children mature at a vastly slower rate then do humans; assuming that the twin followed elvish developmental patterns (they did have human ancestry), they might have had the physical appearance of three to four year old children. Little more then toddlers. That - really puts it into perspective. Tolkien also states that Eldar mentally mature at a much faster rate then do humans, but trauma and mental and physical shock could have induced psychogenic amnesia. (My knowledge of psychogenic amnesia is strictly obtained from wiki, so there is every possibility that I might be wrong).

Newt and Theseus would have been children. They might have seen their parents die; they would have been taken from all that was familiar and driven into the wilderness to die of cold and hunger. They would have had nothing left but each other - Graves tries not to think about it. Newt and Theseus have spent literally years trying not to think about it; their earliest recollections - of fear and hunger and darkness - are not particularly pleasant ones. The twins have - mixed feelings about their lack of memories of what transpired before. Prior to the revelation of their heritage, the temptation of knowing their true backgrounds was a factor - but. But even if it had been a possibility, they weren’t sure if they wanted to know who they were before the gap in their memories. The twins had foster-parents that they loved among both humans and the avari; they know who they are. They like who they are. 

Despite it not being strictly necessary, apparently there are uniquely elvish wedding traditions. …Newt, for one, wouldn’t care about a traditional ceremony. Percival, on the other hand - well, he might not particularly mind either (Graves is practical; it’s one of his defining characteristics) but he might also feel that Newt deserves every courtesy and honor that he can bestow. Namely, a year-long betrothal, as jointly agreed upon/announced by the families of the spouses-to-be, and the exchange of silver rings - which are later swapped for gold in the actual ceremony.

…Newt’s only known family (at that time) is Theseus; Graves, on the other hand, doesn’t have any blood kin remaining; however, the House of Elrond has always regarded him as both a longstanding ally and family in some vague, undefined way. (He’s been a constant of their respective childhoods, served and watched and guarded them all these years…) As such, Graves goes to the only member of Elrond’s family he admires for their practicality, fellow-feeling, and capability not to spread around the news that he’s getting married.

…which means that the marriage is formally agreed upon approved by Theseus and Arwen. The latter is delighted. The former somewhat less so. (His brother! His little brother is getting married! Newt politely asks one of the wolves-not-wargs-why-would-you-think-they’re-wargs? to sit on him until he calms down) Newt thinks this is all very silly, but it makes Percy happy, so why not? 

A marriage feast followed by the actual ceremony is also traditional; in this case, the ‘feast’ in question was a picnic in the middle of Mirkwood forest, and the ceremony was officiated by Radagast instead of the parents of the spouses - considering that none of said parents were actually living, and getting the knot tied by a Maia is definitely something. Apparently, it’s tradition among the Noldor for the parents to give their new offspring-in-law a ‘jewel upon a chain or collar’; Arwen, acting on Graves’ behalf, might give Newt a pretty necklace or something.

…of course, none of the above is strictly necessary considering that apparently it’s the wedding night that is the actual act of marriage, with everything else being ceremonial and not really needed. I’m choosing to believe that there’s some kind of mutual intent needed between the parties in question to forge said marriage. Or is casual sex just - not a thing among elves?

With regards to Gondolin - I wonder what House Graves belonged to? I’m tempted to say he was a guard/soldier in the House of the King, considering his canonical rank in MACUSA - the seat of power. Individuals in said house consisted of “the King’s family and bodyguard.“ Then again, he could be a member of the House of the Wing - “The bodyguard of Tuor, and the smallest house.” If Graves was a member of either House - that could also be one reason why he sticks close to the descendants of Turgon/Tuor (in addition to his sense of duty); they’re basically the only semi-family he has left.

…I’m actually pretty sure he was a member of the House of the Wing, seeing as how The Book of Lost Tales states that the member of the House of the King basically stayed with Turgon to the last and died alongside him. Also, there’s a pretty good likelihood that the House of the Wing might have had one of the highest survival rates of the various populations in Gondolin - considering how they basically followed Tuor, and how Tuor was the one who led the evacuation.

“Mighty was the array of the house of the king and their colors were white and gold and red, and their emblems the moon and the sun and the scarlet heart…” That’s the House of the King. The House of the Wing - “All these wore wings as it were of swans or gulls upon their helms, and the emblem of the White Wing was upon their shields.” I wonder if Graves has any physical remembrances - any tokens, or badges of office, or anything from that time?

Just - Graves. Graves, looking out over the walls of Gondolin during what was supposed to be a holiday, and seeing the plains teaming with dragons and fire-serpents, orcs and balrogs. Being there when the northern gate fell and the orcs poured into the city, killing everyone in their path. He saw the House of the Hammer of Wrath die to a man; he might even have seen Ecthelion slay Gothmog, Lord of Balrogs. He ran with the rest of the survivors across the plains, in that last desperate rush - and there’s a strong likelihood that he witnessed Glorfindel’s last stand.

Also - @elenothar​ , remember how we talked about just how many elves survived the Fall of Gondolin? The Book of Lost Tales says that 580 survived to resettle at the Mouths of Sirion. I looked up some speculation online - apparently, Gondolin was able to field an army at least 10,000 strong in the Battle of Unnumbered Tears, meaning the city had - about 30,000 people, maybe?

…meaning about 2% of the population of Gondolin managed to escape.

…Graves can sympathize with Newt to a rather large extent regarding his spouse’s disinclination to listen or sing about his family. Graves was present at some of the events that elves love to sing about - the fall of Gondolin, the battles of Ecthelion and Glorfindel, the death of the House of the Hammer - they’re not good memories.

I’m so here for the idea of Graves being sort of unofficially adopted by the House of Elrond. Arwen is delighted when he asks her about standing with him at the wedding - she knows Graves well enough to realise what a huge show of trust that is. (Elladan and Elrohir are definitely not going to hear the news from her, though it’s inescapable that they’ll eventually find out and start the teasing.) Newt, though he usually finds jewelry impractical, always wears the small chain that Arwen gives him on behalf of Graves. It’s in the shape of a wing because of Graves’ house. Graves as part of the House of the Wing actually makes a lot of sense to me - plus I really like the assocation of him with birds (you know, some kind of proud bird of prey?). I think he may wear a discrete wing embroidered on his cloak, maybe, but generally he doesn’t advertise who he is and where he comes from. But he can’t bear to be entirely without reminders - he not only feels he owes Gondolin and all his fallen kin that much, but it’s also a part of him.

… Oh man, do you think he might have some ridiculous helmet with wings stashed away somewhere? He never wears it, of course, didn’t even like wearing it back in Gondolin unless it was an official function and he had to. Tuor probably teased him about that. Given that Tuor only arrived in Gondolin fairly close to its end, maybe Graves was a high-ranking guard and member of the House of Kings before his arrival and Turgon assigned him to Tuor and the newly formed House of the Wing as a sign of his favour and trust in his new son in law? After all, his daughter’s husband should have the best security bar the king’s. Or did the House of the Wing already exist and just shifted its responsibilities to Tuor?

I didn’t even think of the fact that Graves would know Glorfindel (have seen him die) before now. Maybe that’s part of the reason he’s drawn to Rivendell? Actually, wouldn’t Glorfindel be a good choice to come to the wedding as well? He’s not kin, but he is one of the very few survivors of Gondolin that Graves knows about who hasn’t returned across the sea. 

2%. Jfc. Sometimes I forget that all of the Silmarillion is pain.

Graves has been a longstanding ally of Elrond’s family since before Elrond himself was born; he served Turgon, Elrond’s great-grandfather, Tuor, Elrond’s grandfather, Eärendil, Elrond’s father -  who himself probably regarded him as a close friend and surrogate uncle. Graves is loyal - and he’s been a constant in Elrond’s household for a very long time. Tuor probably released his men of all obligation to him and his House a long, long time ago - but Graves still stayed. I’d imagine that there’s little that Graves would ask that the house of Elrond would not willingly give him. Which might be one reason they were so worried when he started to go on longer and longer trips in the wilderness, looking for a fight, for a challenge, for something. And it’s also another reason that Arwen would be honored and delighted to help the elf who had given everything for her family and never asked for a thing in return.

…of course, it turns out that Graves really is family when the truth of his husband’s background becomes known. He’s literal Elrond’s uncle-in-law now - Arwen and the Twins probably start calling him that immediately.

I was under the impression that the emblem of the House of the Wing was more along the lines of a swan-wing, but a bird of prey sounds - quite suitable for Graves. I also now have the sudden mental image of Graves having a cloak shaped like a pair of folded wings that he keeps stuffed in the very back of his closet. It can keep company with that ridiculous winged helmet - which he hates, but can’t bring himself to throw away. Considering that Morgoth’s forces attacked on a holiday - a day when everyone would be dressed in their most ornate, ceremonial wear - there’s a high likelihood that said helmet is the one that he wore during the Fall of Gondolin and carried to the Mouths of Sirion.

…perhaps the fact that said attack took place during that time meant that Graves was lucky (?) enough to be carrying/wearing the more formal heirlooms of his family, meaning that they weren’t lost when the City fell. He was probably shocked when Orcrist and Glamdring turned up again; he never thought he’d see those again in his lifetime. Also, didn’t we speculate that his own sword was - nothing spectacular or out of legend, but a good sword that’s been with him through many battles - and yes, it glows blue in the presence of orcs.

I like the headcanon that Graves transferred from the House of the King to the House of the Wing! I don’t know much about the size of the latter, except that it’s mentioned to be the smallest of all the houses. Google-fu doesn’t provide any answers on that front either, but - well. Tuor led them (except for the guards he left with his wife and child) through the thick of the fight; I wouldn’t be surprised if they sustained heavy casualties. I also wonder just how many survivors of lost Gondolin remained in Middle Earth during the time period of The Lord of the Rings? The Havens, where most of them ended up at, were destroyed by the Feanorians; I don’t - think many survived. Honestly, I’m surprised that more of them didn’t seek the Sea when the option was presented to them. As it is - Graves lost his city, what remained of his family, and most of the people that he knew during the Fall of Gondolin, and he’s had to sit and watch as war, sorrow, and time whittled away the few survivors. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s one of the few members of the House of the Wing - maybe the last member - on this side of the Sea.

Graves and Newt probably keep their wedding/betrothal quiet - not because they care about what other people think of them, but because it simply isn’t in either of their natures to make a production out of it. And it really, really isn’t anyone else’s business. Although once the Noldor custom of providing necklaces as a gift is explained to the Scamanders… well. I now have the mental image of Theseus showing up sometime after the wedding and handing Percival a necklace, apologizing that it took him so long - he wasn’t aware of the custom before Arwen explained it to him, and it took him a while to save up for something nice. Theseus actually commissioned it from the Dwarves - it’s a silver warg’s tooth, or something along those lines, and might also make for a weapon of last resort. 

Apparently Thingol’s emblem - which might be the one the Scamanders could claim by right by right of descent (they wouldn’t. They actually literally run away whenever anyone suggests as much - although I wouldn’t be surprised if Graves’ winged cloak and helmet share the space in the back of the wardrobe with a cloak emblazoned with said heraldry) - was a “winged moon on black surrounded by stars”. Odd coincidence.

I don’t think Glorfindel and Graves are particularly close - they knew one another in Goldolin by sight, but they never really talked or moved in the same circles. In Rivendell, they’re on a more equal level, and help coordinate the defense of the valley - and, rarely, they might sometimes just sit and remember. But they’re still not friends, or at least not close enough that Graves would invite him to his wedding - either that, or he simply didn’t trust the ex-Head of the House of the Golden Flower not to keep his mouth shut.

Uncle Graves does have a certain ring to it, doesn’t it? He probably stares blankly the first time Arwen calls him that, then scowls, even though he’s secretly quite pleased. He hasn’t had a family in a long time.

Oh, yes, The House of the Wing definitely has a swan wing, or possibly like an albatross or a gull, but absolutely everyone agrees that that fits Graves not at all. He ended up with a nickname almost immediately when he transferred to the House (something like keen Hawk, along those lines). I really like that image of a cloak in the shape of great wings - you can’t quite see it when it’s worn normally, just that it has a feather pattern, but when it flares it looks magnificent. If possibly a bit pretentious, or so Graves always thought. Wanna bet that Elladan and Elrohir go snooping in his room one day when they’re still young and impetuous and find the helmet and cloak?

Probably not a silver warg’s tooth because Newt wouldn’t like that so much and it’s not really Graves’ style either (unless Theseus is taking the mickey, but he wouldn’t do that for a wedding gift), though I agree that it’s likely to be something with a sharp edge *restraining myself from adding feather/wing imagery everywhere*
Of course the Scamander’s emblem is a winged moon. Of course. Though maybe Newt would rather claim a nightingale? Still got wings…

Glorfindel is notoriously bad at keeping his mouth shut and that hasn’t changed in the last few centuries. I think though they might not be close (they’re two very different personalities after all, though actually that might lend itself to friendship), there’s a solace in not being the only/last survivor of Gondolin around. Between them they can recreate the city and remember the good times, too, not only the dark that they both remember only too well. Graves is probably like ‘Glorfindel who?’ whenever he’s asked whether they knew each other. It’s partly facetious, but mostly that’s just a private thing between the two of them.

Just wait until Elrond calls him Uncle - dropping it into casual conversation, so that Graves is halfway through a response before his brain catches up to his ears. (The Twins had to get it from somewhere, and Percy does know what Elrond got up to as a child). Elrond - and the rest of his House - are ecstatic at gaining more family, especially Graves - who has been family in everything but name for literal Ages of the world.

The fallout from that incident still makes Elladan and Elohir shudder. Graves was not happy to find them snooping around in his personal possessions, let alone some of the very few relics he has of the place of his birth. He’s a very private person in some ways, and the twins snooping through his room, going through his things, violating his privacy… Graves came back from patrol to find Elladan posing as the helmet slipped down over his nose, and Elohir whooping with laughter as he flapped the cloak like wings.

Graves was not happy. The twins literally didn’t know he was there before hands closed around their shoulders and dragged them out of the room; they started to be genuinely afraid when they looked up and saw Graves’ expression shut down. The last of the House of the Wing dragged the two before their father, plunked them down, explained the situation to Elrond, and then - talked to the twins.

Graves was not strictly fair with them. After all, he too thought that the helmet was ridiculous, and he’d burn that cloak if he ever found a viable excuse. But he lambasted Elladan and Elohir until both elflings were tongue-tied and felt lower then pond scum - this wasn’t helped by Elrond’s grave expression, or the way he formally apologized to Percival afterwards. Or the way Graves wouldn’t accept an apology until they could tell him what they were apologizing for.

I’m being silly. Of course Theseus would give Graves a pendant in the shape of a silver salamander. Perhaps something like this or .  I’m fairly sure it wouldn’t have a sharp edge, but Graves would treasure it. And I think that their grandmother’s (Luthien’s) crest was one of two flowers - Thingol’s crest isn’t exactly a thing that’s emblematic of his family as a whole. But I must agree, I like the idea of Newt and Theseus having a winged moon for a crest.

Graves has probably snapped at people before that Gondolin was a BIG city; just because two elves are from the same place doesn’t mean that they’re acquainted with one another. (Graves is, for the most part, being painfully truthful while not telling the truth at all. )
23 September 2017 @ 09:18 am


My [PATREON] is still a thing, and I’m only $4 away from reaching my next goal! Come check it out if you like. Stay awhile, maybe. Suggest some things you’d like me to write or draw, or watch as I continue to chip away at my own personal creative endeavors, while sharing how I do it. Come look at some of the shiny exclusive content on there.

(Hella Rexobi art in particular at the moment *cat purr*)

I am signal boosting this because pops is an amazing person, who deserves your attention and (those who can afford it), your patronage.

She is witty, salty and talented and should be given proper consideration.

I understand perfectly well if you can’t afford to give anything, but I ask my followers (the ones who aren’t porn bots) to please signal boost this so that other people may come to know the amazing person she is.

I always comfort myself with the fact that no matter how badly I mess up, I will never mess up as badly as literally every character in the Silmarillion

@greenekangaroo @urloth
23 September 2017 @ 06:08 am

theotherguysride replied to your post: Re-sending 2 prompts in all; here’s the first….

Every time something in this ‘verse crosses my dash I have to forcibly reformat my brain, because the Losers to me are: Clay, Roque, Pooch, Cougar, and Jensen.

I have to admit that I don’t know who they are! Care to enlighten me? I’m always interested in finding out about other fandoms!

It’s a comic-book-turned-into-a-movie named “The Losers” - which is basically a much more gritty and gory version of ‘The A-Team’.
True. It’s their own little compound which most of the residents of Derry kind of just tilt their heads at and then shrug. To each their own, it’s none of their business. 

This also insures in Creature Bill verse that when It does start to rear Its ugly head again, Bill is surrounded by six of the people most dedicated to protecting him from Its influence. 
That’s an interesting idea! Maybe It would try and turn the Losers against the other people of the town (they are, after all, not humans, it should really be no concern of theirs what It eats, Stan needs to drink blood after all, in some literature, werewolves have to eat human flesh…). 

It gets quickly shot down by the Losers, though, because It ate Georgie, who was a inhuman being like them. (Maybe Bill and George were some kind of fae mix?)
True. It’s their own little compound which most of the residents of Derry kind of just tilt their heads at and then shrug. To each their own, it’s none of their business. 

This also insures in Creature Bill verse that when It does start to rear Its ugly head again, Bill is surrounded by six of the people most dedicated to protecting him from Its influence. 
23 September 2017 @ 05:38 am

To me, Stan Uris is one of the most tragic characters in It. He was such a sweet child, always considerate and caring toward his friends (In the novel, it was Stan, not Bill, who suggested that they clean up the blood from Beverly’s bathroom after she showed it to the other Losers and he insisted on paying for it when they took the rags to get cleaned at the laundromat as well). 

He was loving and considerate toward his wife, Patty, and when they were struggling to have children, never blamed it on her, unlike Beverly’s husband, Tom (who was an abusive sack of shit, but I digress). He supported Patty’s career and was proud of her achievements as a teacher. 

Even though the entire business with It terrified him and made him uncomfortable, he didn’t back down from trying to destroy It. He even was the one to save Eddie and Mike during their confrontation with It in the sewers by yelling at It that the form of bird It had taken did not exist (Stan was an avid bird watcher and bonded with his father over their mutual love of them). 

His killing himself wasn’t out of moral weakness or cowardice, but because Stan was implied to be psychic, much like Danny Torrance from the Shining, and thus could see Its true form without the filter that the others had. It is also implied that he could tell that It was a female and was pregnant. These things combined with Stan’s inability to accept the existence of something like It into his worldview (which did not hold with supernatural beings like It) caused Stan’s mind to break, resulting in his decision to commit suicide. 

Stan Uris deserved so much better and I wish with all my heart that he would have survived and been able to reunite with his friends. I think they’re forgetting was the result of the Other (Gan from King’s Dark Series) trying to protect them from the trauma of what happened to them, but in Stan’s case, I think it was a mistake. That if they had been to able to remember each other and what they went through together and had been able to stick together and he had had the other Losers to lean on and be supported by and to support in return, Stan wouldn’t have broken and all seven of them would have been able to make it out of their final confrontation with It as adults alive. I firmly believe that and I wish it were so. 

Stan was one of my favorite characters in the book, and it is a delight to see someone articulate this so clearly.


Mr Rogers Facts.

Source: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 Follow Ultrafacts for more facts daily.
23 September 2017 @ 04:18 am

Please, let him be soft. 

I know you made him 
     with gunmetal bones
     and wolf’s teeth.
I know you made him to be
     a warrior
     a soldier
     a hero.

But even gunmetal can warp
and even wolf’s teeth can dull
and I do not want to see him break
the way old and worn and overused things do.

I do not want to see him go up in flames
     the way all heroes end up martyrs.

I know that you will tell me 
that the world needs him.
The world needs his heart
     and his faith
     and his courage
     and his strength
     and his bones and his teeth and his blood and his voice and his–
The world needs anything he will give them.

Damn the world,
     and damn you too.
Damn anyone that ever asked anything of him,
     damn anyone that ever took anything from him,
           damn anyone that ever prayed to his name.
You know that he will give them everything
     until there is nothing left of him
         but the imprint of dust
              where his feet once trod.
You know that he will bear the world like Atlas
    until his shoulders collapse
         and his knees buckle
              and he is crushed by all he used to carry. 

Dear God, 
you have already made an Atlas.
You have already made an Achilles and an Icarus and a Hercules. 
You have already made a sacrificial lamb of your Son.
You have already made so many heroes,
and you can make another again. 
You can have your pick of heroes. 

So please, I beg you–
he is all that I have, 
and you have so many heroes
and the world has so many more. 
Let him be soft, 
and let him be mine.

- Please, let him be happy ( j.p. )
23 September 2017 @ 02:38 am
23 September 2017 @ 01:13 am
23 September 2017 @ 01:13 am

reblog to give stan uris a hug
22 September 2017 @ 07:58 pm

Anne Siems

I used to; honestly, I was always MUCH more interested in the setting - the  fascinating, complex worldbuilding of the World of Darkness.



this is from the wikipedia page for hades and have no idea if it’s true or not but i really hope it is because there are few things funnier to me than the idea of hades in the underworld banging on the ceiling with a broomstick because the mortals upstairs are slapping the earth at 3 am to get his attention

5 or so people have tagged this with ‘1-800-ARE YOU SLAPPING’ and i’d just like to say y’all are people after my own heart

@grimoireoffolkloreandfairytales I am dead
22 September 2017 @ 05:23 pm

                                                                        Happy Hobbit Day!

The American Tolkien Society first proclaimed Hobbit Day and Tolkien Week in 1978, and defines them as this: “Tolkien Week is observed as the calendar week containing September 22, which is always observed as Hobbit Day”, but acknowledges that Hobbit Day pre-dates their designation. Hobbit Day is the birthday of the hobbits Bilbo and Frodo Baggins, two fictional characters in J. R. R. Tolkien’s popular set of books The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. In the books both Bilbo and Frodo were said to be born on September 22, but of different years.
22 September 2017 @ 06:58 am
Inductionby hamelin_born

Fandom: Vampire: The Masquerade

Previously posted in its unedited form on


An introduction to the thirteen classic vampire Clans of Vampire: The Masquerade, as relaid by an exceptionally unreliable narrator.

Notes: @robininthelabyrinth, I blame you. YOU KNOW WHAT YOU DID.

…also, I wrote this literally more then ten years ago, and I wrote it more for the fun of it then for the literary quality thereof. So I guess all that I’m saying is - be kind?


Some stalk the hills the sidhe have fled, their magiks free for all.
Some seize the prize their sires stole, their fangs so fast to fall.
So dine with them in revelry, or dance in the Great Game
But childe, don’t ever, ever let them know your secret name.

Oh, gold and gems and sceptered rings; a lesson here to learn.
The more they own, the more they thirst – nay, more then long for, burn.
Their glory’s in the crown and throne, the coffers they can fill –
But childe, don’t ever fall beneath ‘his lordship’s’ poisoned will.

The shadows are our eldest friend; theirs is the sweetest song
Of power and pride and briny coast, of Abyss swelling strong
Of the noonday night, the emptiness the stars once sang awake -
Don’t ever tread the boundaries that the shadow-dwellers break.

Rats and rust and hoarded rot – the refuse of our kind.
The lepers wield thorny strings; their restless eye is blind.
Their worth is in the wonder that their horror can’t chase away –
Don’t dare to judge by what they are, or by what others say.

The poet-kinds of deadened years remember Carthage well -
The standard bright of reddened white; they fought and fed and fell.
Their memories stretch vast and deep; they fight, but not to win.
And childe, don’t ever dare insult the honor of their kin.

Steel and smoke and dusty sky – the ashen taste of fear
As the shadow slides throughout all the night, its deadly purpose clear.
Their passion lies within the vein, although it’s judged as weak -
Oh childe, don’t ever find yourself the quarry that they seek.

The graveyard is a second home; it grants the sweetest sleep
But every crypt and yawning ditch some gristly secrets keep.
A ravaged mien, a scalpel keen to pierce the shrouded lands -
My childe, don’t ever find yourself within these seekers’ hands.

There’s power in the sculpted hand, the modulated voice -
The painted dancers on the stage all think theirs is the choice.
Their muse will grant them wonders that the world would weep to see –
But childe, don’t dare mistake it for the truth of slipping free.

Blood and blade and polished bone – their code is chill and grim.
The very strands of life are theirs, to warp and twist and dim.
The lords within the keep. Their foes? The screams that scrape the sky.
Don’t cross the voivode, my dear – they will not let you die.

The mirror is shattered past recall; the shards burn clear and bright
As brilliant as the gibbous moon, when fools draw down the Sight.
They see the Truth behind the lie, the scope of all the Game –
Don’t traffic in the secrets bartered so by the insane.

A hound will bell throughout the night; the wolf bites back its cry.
A glimpse of eyes, a flash of fang – the hunt that’s yet to die.
Their silent pact of savagery shall leave them less then whole;
Don’t bargain with the Beast, my love, on peril of your soul.

We know the serpents as of old from cracked papyrus tombs
Where they hoard their twisted secrets in the dank and mottled gloom.
Their tongues pour honeyed venom - theirs a god that never fell.
Be cautious in your dealings. There is nothing they won’t sell.

I’ve walked this wide old world a spell. I know each secret way
Past every street and crossroad where the trickster’s children play.
Oh, shut him in a coffin barred with forty silver locks,
But even then, my childe, don’t you ever trust a fox.
22 September 2017 @ 06:18 am
…why am I pulling out a piece of fanpoetry I wrote more then ten years ago for an extremely small fandom? Why am I editing it?

B.A.P Aesthetic Moodboard

World of Darkness Series - Vampire The Masquerade edition

∟ 2. Ventrue

“Power is my food. Combat is my sleep. Blood is my oxygen.
Politics is my blood. Sleep is my enemy. My enemies are my food.”

22 September 2017 @ 03:53 am




Oh my God this actually explains so much.

So there’s a known thing in the study of human psychology/sociology/what-have-you where men are known to, on average, rely entirely on their female romantic partner for emotional support. Bonding with other men is done at a more superficial level involving fun group activities and conversations about general subjects but rarely involves actually leaning on other men or being really honest about emotional problems. Men use alcohol to be able to lower their inhibitions enough to expose themselves emotionally to other men, but if you can’t get emotional support unless you’re drunk, you have a problem.

So men need to have a woman in their lives to have anyone they can share their emotional needs and vulnerabilities with. However, since women are not socialized to fear sharing these things, women’s friendships with other women are heavily based on emotional support. If you can’t lean on her when you’re weak, she’s not your friend. To women, what friendship is is someone who listens to all your problems and keeps you company.

So this disconnect men are suffering from is that they think that only a person who is having sex with you will share their emotions and expect support. That’s what a romantic partner does. But women think that’s what a friend does. So women do it for their romantic partners and their friends and expect a male friend to do it for them the same as a female friend would. This fools the male friend into thinking there must be something romantic there when there is not.

This here is an example of patriarchy hurting everyone. Women have a much healthier approach to emotional support – they don’t die when widowed at nearly the rate that widowers die and they don’t suffer emotionally from divorce nearly as much even though they suffer much more financially, and this is because women don’t put all their emotional needs on one person. Women have a support network of other women. But men are trained to never share their emotions except with their wife or girlfriend, because that isn’t manly. So when she dies or leaves them, they have no one to turn to to help with the grief, causing higher rates of death, depression, alcoholism and general awfulness upon losing a romantic partner. 

So men suffer terribly from being trained in this way. But women suffer in that they can’t reach out to male friends for basic friendship. I am not sure any man can comprehend how heartbreaking it is to realize that a guy you thought was your friend was really just trying to get into your pants. Friendship is real. It’s emotional, it’s important to us. We lean on our friends. Knowing that your friend was secretly seething with resentment when you were opening up to him and sharing your problems because he felt like he shouldn’t have to do that kind of emotional work for anyone not having sex with him, and he felt used by you for that reason, is horrible. And the fact that men can’t share emotional needs with other men means that lots of men who can’t get a girlfriend end up turning into horrible misogynistic people who think the world owes them the love of a woman, like it’s a commodity… because no one will die without sex. Masturbation exists. But people will die or suffer deep emotional trauma from having no one they can lean on emotionally. And men who are suffering deep emotional trauma, and have been trained to channel their personal trauma into rage because they can’t share it, become mass shooters, or rapists, or simply horrible misogynists.

The only way to fix this is to teach boys it’s okay to love your friends. It’s okay to share your needs and your problems with your friends. It’s okay to lean on your friends, to hug your friends, to be weak with your friends. Only if this is okay for boys to do with their male friends can this problem be resolved… so men, this one’s on you. Women can’t fix this for you; you don’t listen to us about matters of what it means to be a man. Fix your own shit and teach your brothers and sons and friends that this is okay, or everyone suffers.

The next time a guy says, “What? You don't want to be my friend?” I’ll text him this and then ask if he really wants to be friends or just have another potential girlfriend.

Inktober/Drawlloween 4 - Vampire
Bunnicula was a weird book that stuck with me for some reason over the years. 

22 September 2017 @ 03:33 am