Arwen falls in love when she is just ten years old, with the gardens of her father’s home. She likes the smells and the flowers and brushing her hand against the petals’ silk-soft flesh.
But autumn comes to Rivendell and with it, the gardens wilt, and the flowers fall dead at her feet until she cries under the withering trees.
“Galad,” her mother says, wiping the tears from Arwen’s cheeks like they pain her. “Why are you sad?”
“I do not want them to die,” Arwen says, cradling what is left of her first love; half-hearted blooms crumbling in her hands.
“Ah,” Celebrian hums, a melodic sympathy. “What a tragedy it is, to love what does not last. How fortunate that you and I will live forever.”
But what good is living, Arwen thinks, if it causes this much pain?
Her brothers bring her yellow flowers from Lothlórien, which do not die even as they rest on her window sill for many years, but it is not the same. She knows now, what loss tastes like, and so she is not the same, either.
Arwen falls in love again when she is two hundred, in the midst of adolescence, heart overflowing with a song she cannot name. She is in Lórien with her mother and her mother’s mother, and her grandmother’s guard Eregwen.
Eregwen is silver-haired with stern eyes that feel like frost on Arwen’s skin whenever they catch her. She is tall and strong and can shoot three arrows one through the other in the time it takes to blink.
“She is also old enough to be your mother,” Elladan laughs, plucking a golden apple from the tree above their heads.
“Or grandmother,” Elrohir adds, always quick to join in teasing her.
Arwen glares at them both. “What do you two know about love, anyway?” Her brothers have had no great loves of their own, more interested in things like war and glory, fingers inching towards their swords even in their sleep.
When she confesses her love to Eregwen and gives her the bracelet she’s made from a lock of her hair, a token of her affection, the guard accepts it, as graceful and stoic as always, and her refusal is not unkind.
And when Eregwen dies later that same decade in a skirmish with some orcs, Arwen weeps bitterly into her bed sheets though she hasn’t thought of the guard in some years.
Even immortal things are unsafe, she’s learning. There is no soft place to rest her love so that it may not break.
Arwen falls in and out of love enough times in her life to lose track. For she has such a very long life, and time is a difficult thing for immortals to keep track of. It moves differently for them, sometimes stretching languidly in a century that feels like one honey-sweet summer, and sometimes falling over itself in a jumbled up rush.
She is closer to three thousand years old than not by the time she meets the boy called Hope, the false son her father brought home to Rivendell for safe-keeping, as if he was some rich trinket rather than a child.
miraculoussparrow asked: I'm reading a biography about a badass screenwriter Dalton Trambo, blacklisted during HUAC and sent to prison. He was cool. Anyway, my point is that one of the movies he worked on is titled Lonely are the Brave and the first thing I thought of was "That so describes the animorphs". Then I thought hey, that sounds familiar and remembered you screaming in the tags about "Too few in number and too proud to hide" so I figured I should tell you.
First of all, I’ve never been so pleased in my life as I am by this fact. If every single person on this blog knows me as “that one person screaming about the Animorphs” I’m fine with that.
Second of all, I’m with you???? I’m so with you?? There are so many good terrible tragic Animorphs quotes in the world. This one (the one you mentioned) is still my favorite though and I’m constantly screeching about how good it is. Behold the brave battalion… Hell yes. That’s the stuff. I should write a whole entire fic about how a rich Controller who saw the six of them go into battle at the end of the war commissioned a statue with the money their Yeerk made, and so there’s a statue in their rebuilt hometown of four kids standing back to back, one of the girls with a hawk on her arm and a young Andalite at their side ready to strike, with that quote on the base and the years of the War and not a damn thing else.
Fuck.
Anonymous asked: (sword Anon) omg haha i thought abt saying THIS IS A BLUE SWORD ASK but i was running out of space!! thank you for answering! also if i may ask, what do you think would have happened if corlath had waited to ask harry to marry him? would it have ever happened, or would he have just flailed eternally? would mathin still be alive? would, if he were, have died of exasperation? (good luck on your MCATs!!! i hope your day goes well!!)
I mean, let’s be real: there’s only so much that the Riders can TAKE. They’re only human. Even the most patient of them reaches the end of their rope eventually. That being said: Corlath is very stubborn and Harry is very oblivious.
So here’s my guess.
Yes, Mathin does live. Corlath welcomes Harry back with honor and a tight embrace and the return of her sash, and there’s a beat where they look at each other and Harry opens her mouth, and Corlath takes a breath, and then…it passes. Corlath smiles at her, faint and wistful, and Harry grins. In the healer’s tent, Corlath grips Harry’s shoulders and holds her up and bleeds himself dry of kelar because it’s her doing the asking, and he tells himself that this will be enough. She will sit at his left hand as Rider all her life, and that will be enough. He will figure out a solution to the problem of succession some other time. At the moment, Harry is alive and strong and wild with kelar, performing miracles under his hands, and he could not ask for more than that.
And so life pretty much goes on. No one really talks about that time where their king was wearing his Rider’s sash, at least not around either of them. Plenty of people discuss it on their own time, though, and none more so than the rest of the Riders. Harry is one of them, the Daughter of the Riders–Mathin’s affectionate nickname is taken up with enthusiasm after her dramatic victory against Thurra–and they love their king, and they’re both respectably intelligent people so what the fuck is taking so long. It’s obvious to literally anyone who spends more then a minute and a half in the company of the court that the King and the Rider at his left hand are soulmates. Except, apparently, Harry, and–they’re all extremely aware of this–Corlath would never push.
Richard and Kentarre get married and Corlath officiates, Jack is made a King’s Rider instead of a Queen’s. Aerin visits Harry in fires and dreams and around halfway through the winter rains, when Harry complains that she misses sun and sword training and riding and racing with Corlath, Aerin laughs until tears are dripping off the end of her nose and Harry is scowling.
“Oh, Harimad,” Aerin wheezes once she’s breathing again. “I can hardly judge you myself, but honestly.”
“What?” Harry demands, annoyed. She got over her shock and awe a long time back. Aerin doesn’t even answer her, just flaps a hand and fades away as Harry wakes.
The Riders start out kind of assuming that Corlath will move on and Harry will carry on in blissful ignorance, but it rapidly becomes clear that It Is Not So. Corlath watches Harry mutter curses as she stubbornly learns Hill embroidery techniques with an unreasonable degree of warmth in his eyes, and Harry has fallen asleep in Corlath’s study when kelar dreams keep her restless more times than she can count. The Riders progressively go from “this will definitely sort itself out one way or another” to “we might need to have a discreet word with Corlath about taking action” to “wow, these people need an actual legitimate matchmaking crew” within the months of the rains. Then they take bets on who’s going to choke to death on the unresolved affection and confront them with it first.
Two weeks before the rains end, the Riders and the king are enjoying a casual dinner. Innath watches Corlath silently wave away one of the hafor approaching Harry with a plate of spiced stik meat–she can’t stand the smoked flavor–and Harry smiles brightly at him, a little nod of thanks, and Innath–
Well, Innath cracks.
“I’m out, gentlemen,” he announces to the table at large, rising to his feet and bracing both hands on the table. A quiet ooooh of excitement winds around the table as Innath gives his king a mildly desperate look.
“Innath?” Corlath asks, raising his brows.
“May I speak freely?”
“Always,” Corlath agrees, bemused.
“My lord,” Innath says, clear and slow, “has it come to your attention that it will be spring in a fortnight?”
“…yes?”
“We are on diplomatic terms with the Outlanders, and the Northerners are defeated.”
“We’re all aware,” Corlath confirms, obviously amused. Harry is almost giggling beside him.
“Right,” Innath says. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and says, “Has it occurred to you that this spring would be an ideal time for a wedding?”
Harry perks up, still smiling. “Are you getting married? You didn’t tell the rest of us.”
Innath clearly can’t think of a response to this for a moment, staring at her while the other Riders watch, riveted. “I’m–no,” he finally says. “I just–listen, Harimad. Do you love Corlath?”
Harry’s smile evaporates to leave shocked silence in its place. “I–” The moment of intense thought is followed by visible revelation, and she shoots a borderline panicked look at Corlath. “What?”
“I think that looks like a yes,” Forloy says, raising a glass to Innath in a silent gesture of it’s all you and takes a swallow of wine.
“Corlath, you love Harimad, and everyone in this room knows it,” Innath says, barreling on without thinking–honestly if he thinks, he’s going to run out of the room, he knows it. “So why don’t the two of you do something about it? Like getting married this spring.” He toasts the two of them with his own wine glass, quaffs it in one, and tells the other Riders, “Right, I think that’s our cue, after you, Faran.”
No one, not even the hafor, ever actually knows what conversation happens in the dining room after the Riders pile out into the hallway.
But the next day Corlath and Harry issue a formal announcement that they’ll be wedded in three weeks, at the height of the spring blooming season. They’re holding hands below the railing of the stone balcony overlooking the courtyard, and even Corlath is smiling, honest and happy, as he looks down at Harry by his side.
Mathin collects a handsome sum of cash, but he cares more about the way Harry laughs and touches the gold sash at her waist.
public high school things
•naruto kids
•kids punching windows
•kahoot
•"miss…..miss……c'mon"
•leaks coming from everywhere
•screams from every direction•jeopardy review games
•chicken nuggets that are orange and all the same shape
•people fighting for no reason
•couples who make out in the hallway like they’re never gonna see each other again
•those kids who take the bathroom pass and disappear for half of class•clapping in the middle of lunch for no reason?
•only going to the homecoming game
•being embarrassed by the student art in the hall
•that one teacher that no one calls mr./Mrs./miss/etc but instead just their last name
•hearing yelling from other classrooms and wondering wtf is going on????- People who stop in the middle of the goddamn hallway
- That one kid who always has a winter coat on no matter what
- ‘Gay table’
- Kids who rap/blast rap music in the hallway
- “—– Please take off your hood/hat.”
- The bell doesn’t dismiss you I do
- We still have 3 minutes left don’t pack up yet or you’re getting a detention
- Mysterious ceiling stains
- Smoke coming out of the bathroom
-People who skip class and hide in the bathroom all period instead of leaving
- those 3 kids who everyone knows are drug dealers
- the secretary who is Tired
- finding outdated memes printed out and pinned to the walls in teacher offices (ex: condescending willy wonka: “oh so that OTHER teacher didn’t give you homework?? i see”)
- singing songs u learned in middle school language classes
- the end of class is whenever someone shuffles their papers into a binder or moves their backpack, everyone else will follow like some freaky instinctual mimicry shit
have u ever seen something so american like… wtf
This all sounds so fucking weird…
You mean this isn’t normal
Help us
(via notanightlight)
on the subject of Humans Are Space Orcs i keep thinking it would be funny if ‘pursuit predator’ humans got together with an ‘ambush predator’ feliform species. and like. humans enjoy walking around with their friends! and the feliforms enjoy huddling in a concealed location with their friends! and it takes all of half an hour for a human to pick up a scarf and make a sling to take their pal with them while they go grab some lunch.
our new friends are like ‘are you sure this isn’t an inconvenience’ and the humans are like ‘are you kidding we do this with terran cats whether they like it or not’
also the team-up of humans and the feliform species gives most herbivore species in the galaxy screaming nightmares because here is a mobile tower that will follow you for 16 hours straight and it’s carrying a bag full of sneaky murder like it’s a baby this is not okay
YES
Why does it have to be an alien race, we could just enhance cat intelligence and figure out usable vocal chords for them. My one cat is a regular American Shorthair, except he’s 18 pounds of solid muscle and is larger than several dog breeds, and has pitch-black fur. Now imagine *that* as a common scarf baby.
My husband and father in law like large house cats. Like 15lbs is an absolute minimum. Most are in the 20-25lb range and none of it’s fat. One, Matarro, looks like a damned tortoise shell body builder. Do you even lift? And then they train them to be “shoulder kitties”. So these cats hide on top of entertainment consoles and armoires and curio cabinets to ambush you for rides through the house so they don’t have to walk because I guess every earth species plays the floor is lava.
I’m not a big person. I’m 5'2. Both my husband and his dad tower over me by a full foot. They have the shoulder space for these tanks to suddenly pounce on them for rides. I do not. The first time i went to my in laws house, I was walking to the kitchen when Matarro decided he wanted to come along. Matarro was 27lbs at the time and from shoulder to hip was 3 inches longer than my shoulders are wide. He ambushed me from the dining room hutch and literally knocked me off my feet. It was like having a bowling ball with claws thrown at me.
If they weren’t basically all marshmallow fluff insides those cats would reign terror on the known universe. What would aliens think? “The monster is attacking!” “OMG why are they just letting these things attack them?!” “What the shit?! They intentionally TRAIN them to hone the murderous ambush skills?! They think it’s cute? He’s just a big softie, really?! We’re leaving. We’re leaving right now. Fuck this planet just get in the ship. Go! Go! Go!”
And all the humans would be confused like “but he really is just a big softie! Where are you going? It’s adorable! You should have seen the time he knocked Jen on her ass jumping down on her. Wait, what did I say? Why are you running?”
Lol, 27 pounds of cat just sounds like a weapon.
(via bonehandledknife)
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Can we take a moment to appreciate the fact that K.A. Applegate might be the only sci-fi writer EVER who both (a) condemns the mass killing of aliens even if they are attacking the earth AND (b) shows why it’s sort of necessary in the situation?
It seems like too many other sci-fi stories go the route of Avengers or Doctor Who (S1) or Independence Day where a protagonist wiping out thousands of aliens is portrayed as uncomplicated heroism and we all celebrate at the end. Either that or they go the route of Avatar the Last Airbender (S3) or Buffy the Vampire Slayer (S5) where the characters that don’t want to engage in violence don’t have to get their hands dirty because a deus ex machina comes along and prevents that from having to happen. In both cases doing the right thing is also a matter of doing the easy thing.
Applegate, by contrast, doesn’t let her characters get away with an uncomplicated happy ending. She doesn’t say “they were aliens so it’s okay to kill them,” and she doesn’t offer them a third way out of their impossible choice. She gets into the hell that is war and doesn’t use the sci-fi genre to let her gloss over the dirty details.
Orson Scott Card also does this really well in Ender’s Game!
We’re going to have to agree to disagree about Ender’s Game, because while that book has a powerful anti-war message, it also [SPOILERS FOR ENDER’S GAME] features a main character who has no idea that he’s making decisions with real people’s lives at stake at any point while making those decisions. Ender literally believes that he’s playing a video game when he annihilates the buggers and the human navy, and so none of those decisions near the end of the novel reflect the thought process of “oh god I have to end lives to save lives and there are literally no good answers.” He’s actually more concerned with impressing his mentors and building up useful skills at the time than he is with any kind of moral quandary—which is, of course, exactly why everyone lies to him about it being a training simulation—but it’s hard to say what he would do when faced with the choice between consciously ending thousands of lives or passively allowing the potential for billions to end, because he never actually gets the chance to make that choice. [END SPOILERS] Still an awesome piece of sci-fi, but…
But where I think K.A. Applegate goes a step beyond that into disturbing-moral-paradox land is that [AND NOW FOR SOME ANIMORPHS SPOILERS] when Jake and Marco and Ax make the decision to wipe out 17,000 yeerks because the alternative is the death or enslavement of 5 billion humans, they know exactly what they’re doing. They’ve also been up close and personal with the yeerks at that point—Jake and Ax have both literally shared brain space with yeerks, however briefly—which means that unlike Ender they don’t have the option of dehumanizing the enemy, diffusing responsibility onto authority figures, or otherwise morally disengaging from their actions. Applegate shows us time and again that what the yeerks do to their hosts, making them into “The most total slaves in all of history, because even their own minds [aren’t] theirs anymore” (#20) is an atrocity to the point where any halfway decent person cannot allow it to stand, pretty much no matter what it takes to end that atrocity. [END ANIMORPHS SPOILERS] Both stories have messages that are not simply pro-war or anti-war so much as they are about the impossibility of moral simplicity in times of war. However, Animorphs features child characters consciously making impossible moral decisions under conditions of grey-and-black morality; Ender’s Game does not.
(via chromatographic)
staff You are recommending that I follow a nazi blog I blocked last night. Your site promotes anti-semitism to Jews. Your site shoves Nazi Swastikas in the faces of Jews. It’s bad enough that the Nazi blogs seem to be sprouting up like weeds on a site that claims to have an anti-hate policy, but to actively promote them to people who have taken the steps of blocking these blogs is beyond the pale. Clean this place up. It’s turning into Stormfront.
I encourage everyone who sees this post, Jewish or otherwise, to reblog it. Tumblr has been ignoring the growth of Nazism on this site for too long. It needs to end.hey @staff!
@staff get your life together
(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)
If you publicly and unreservedly condemn the actions of Nazis in Charlottesville and elsewhere, including everything from quiet hate speech to vehicular terrorism, can you please reblog this post.
I think a few friends, a few followers, every Jew who happens across this post and my own heart could do with knowing that there are more of you out there than there are of them
(via notanightlight)
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