makanidotdot:

wowowow tenzin your friend is trying to look out for you why you gotta make it weird

image

Stepping lightly, I feel I can now say:

Book 3 > Book 1 > Book 2.


"Respect is meat and drink to a witch. Without respect, you ain’t got a thing. She doesn’t get much respect, our Miss Level."
That was true. People didn’t respect Miss Level. They liked her, in an unthinking sort of way, and that was it. Mistress Weatherwax was right, and Tiffany wished she wasn’t.
"Why did you and Miss Tick send me to her, then?" she said.
"Because she likes people," said the witch, striding ahead. "She cares about ‘em. Even the stupid, mean, drooling ones, the mothers with the runny babies and no sense, the feckless and the silly and the fools who treat her like some kind of servant.
Now that’s what I call magic — seein’ all that, dealin’ with all that, and still goin’ on. It’s sittin’ up all night with some poor old man who’s leavin’ the world, taking away such pain as you can, comfortin’ their terror, seein’ ‘em safely on their way … and then cleanin’ ‘em up, layin’ ‘em out, making ‘em neat for the funeral, and helpin’ the weeping widow strip the bed and wash the sheets — which is, let me tell you, no errand for the fainthearted — and stayin’ up the next night to watch over the coffin before the funeral, and then going home and sitting down for five minutes before some shouting angry man comes bangin’ on your door ‘cuz his wife’s havin’ difficulty givin’ birth to their first child and the midwife’s at her wits’ end and then getting up and fetching your bag and and going out again …
We all do that, in our own way, and she does it better’n me, if I was to put my hand on my heart. That is the root and heart and soul and center of witchcraft, that is. The soul and center!” Mistress Weatherwax smacked her fist into her hand, hammering out her words. “The … soul … and … center!”
Echoes came back from the trees in the sudden silence. Even the grasshoppers by the side of the track had stopped sizzling.
"And Mrs. Earwig," said Mistress Weatherwax, her voice sinking into a growl, "Mrs. Earwig tells her girls it’s about cosmic balances and stars and circles and colors and wands and … and toys, nothing but toys!” She sniffed. “Oh, I daresay they’re all very well as decoration, somethin’ nice to look at while you’re workin’, somethin’ for show, but the start and finish, the start and finish, is helpin’ people when life is on the edge. Even people you don’t like. Stars is easy. People is hard.”
She stopped talking. It was several seconds before birds began to sing again.
"Anyway, that’s what I think," she added in the tones of someone who suspects that she might have gone just a bit further than she meant to.


~ Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Image by Alicia-mb.

"Respect is meat and drink to a witch. Without respect, you ain’t got a thing. She doesn’t get much respect, our Miss Level."

That was true. People didn’t respect Miss Level. They liked her, in an unthinking sort of way, and that was it. Mistress Weatherwax was right, and Tiffany wished she wasn’t.

"Why did you and Miss Tick send me to her, then?" she said.

"Because she likes people," said the witch, striding ahead. "She cares about ‘em. Even the stupid, mean, drooling ones, the mothers with the runny babies and no sense, the feckless and the silly and the fools who treat her like some kind of servant.

Now that’s what I call magic — seein’ all that, dealin’ with all that, and still goin’ on. It’s sittin’ up all night with some poor old man who’s leavin’ the world, taking away such pain as you can, comfortin’ their terror, seein’ ‘em safely on their way … and then cleanin’ ‘em up, layin’ ‘em out, making ‘em neat for the funeral, and helpin’ the weeping widow strip the bed and wash the sheets — which is, let me tell you, no errand for the fainthearted — and stayin’ up the next night to watch over the coffin before the funeral, and then going home and sitting down for five minutes before some shouting angry man comes bangin’ on your door ‘cuz his wife’s havin’ difficulty givin’ birth to their first child and the midwife’s at her wits’ end and then getting up and fetching your bag and and going out again …

We all do that, in our own way, and she does it better’n me, if I was to put my hand on my heart. That is the root and heart and soul and center of witchcraft, that is. The soul and center!” Mistress Weatherwax smacked her fist into her hand, hammering out her words. “The … soul … and … center!”

Echoes came back from the trees in the sudden silence. Even the grasshoppers by the side of the track had stopped sizzling.

"And Mrs. Earwig," said Mistress Weatherwax, her voice sinking into a growl, "Mrs. Earwig tells her girls it’s about cosmic balances and stars and circles and colors and wands and … and toys, nothing but toys!” She sniffed. “Oh, I daresay they’re all very well as decoration, somethin’ nice to look at while you’re workin’, somethin’ for show, but the start and finish, the start and finish, is helpin’ people when life is on the edge. Even people you don’t like. Stars is easy. People is hard.”

She stopped talking. It was several seconds before birds began to sing again.

"Anyway, that’s what I think," she added in the tones of someone who suspects that she might have gone just a bit further than she meant to.

~ Terry Pratchett, A Hat Full of Sky

Image by Alicia-mb.

makanidotdot:

toph takes care of ba sing se

"worst city ever"


"Blessed. Treasure. Ridiculous words to say about a monster. … Please, tell me more ridiculous things."

Naur in a rare moment without his cloak on, deftly done once again by Psudonym.
If I wasn’t the sole writer of the entirety of Aether Torrent, if I wasn’t therefore heavily invested in the life and personality of the main protagonist, if I were only a third-person fan of the story, then Naur would probably be my favorite character. The day I realized that, I was very pleasantly surprised.
He was a wandering item shop NPC, the kind one meets inexplicably outside of dungeons or far afield in the wilderness, until he met up with the main cast. His species is a bunch of perfectly ordinary shark-like humanoids, but given that he himself was born imbued with elemental Fire magic, he cannot swim. Water burns. It’s a disability.
Any creatures with his talent are simply called “monsters,” with all the fearful prejudice that implies. His baseline personality would have been quiet and retiring anyway, but a very early childhood of violent reactions to his existence made him deeply agoraphobic …
Except when he’s hidden under that cloak. It’s a wearable security blanket, so he has it on practically all the time, except when some tears need sewing.
Those whale shark patterns are entirely unique to him, likely a side-effect of his elemental mutation. They really help communicate his harmless nature, and kudos to Psu for getting them down so well. And the lighting, too. Well done.

"Blessed. Treasure. Ridiculous words to say about a monster. … Please, tell me more ridiculous things."

Naur in a rare moment without his cloak on, deftly done once again by Psudonym.

If I wasn’t the sole writer of the entirety of Aether Torrent, if I wasn’t therefore heavily invested in the life and personality of the main protagonist, if I were only a third-person fan of the story, then Naur would probably be my favorite character. The day I realized that, I was very pleasantly surprised.

He was a wandering item shop NPC, the kind one meets inexplicably outside of dungeons or far afield in the wilderness, until he met up with the main cast. His species is a bunch of perfectly ordinary shark-like humanoids, but given that he himself was born imbued with elemental Fire magic, he cannot swim. Water burns. It’s a disability.

Any creatures with his talent are simply called “monsters,” with all the fearful prejudice that implies. His baseline personality would have been quiet and retiring anyway, but a very early childhood of violent reactions to his existence made him deeply agoraphobic …

Except when he’s hidden under that cloak. It’s a wearable security blanket, so he has it on practically all the time, except when some tears need sewing.

Those whale shark patterns are entirely unique to him, likely a side-effect of his elemental mutation. They really help communicate his harmless nature, and kudos to Psu for getting them down so well. And the lighting, too. Well done.

dragonheartedrabbit:

Going on right now in Ferguson: Police are raiding a church that has been stocked with medical supplies, food, and tear gas recovery kits for community members engaging in protests. This cannot be allowed to continue.

Stand up, speak out. 

(via queensimia)

smitethepatriarchy:

bubonickitten:

capitolhillofficial:

capitolhillofficial:

Dragons are henceforth a feminist icon. You’re no longer allowed to participate in the appreciation of dragons and dragons in culture unless you’re totally down for helping the equality movement. 

Anti-feminist blogs are mad about this post so everyone should reblog it.

I saved this image off Tumblr awhile ago and I never thought I’d find another use for it

image

F*CK YES.

(via queensimia)

I used to be a little somber about a humanity without either Satoshi Kon or Studio Ghibli.
I think I’ll be content if Mamoru Hosoda continues directing movies for a few more decades.

I used to be a little somber about a humanity without either Satoshi Kon or Studio Ghibli.

I think I’ll be content if Mamoru Hosoda continues directing movies for a few more decades.

bluedelliquanti:

"On Demographics."

Following the news this week made me really, really angry and I don’t think some people realize just how many Americans are affected by aggressive and militarized law enforcement. We need to call for immediate police reform for the sake of the kids coming up right now.