Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

feistiest:

i’ve been thinking about why exactly i’m so attached to the story of icarus, the boy who’s been used again and again to teach us a lesson about hubris; the boy we were told as disobedient, as prideful, as reckless, as ignorant; the boy we’ve been warned to never follow, as if we did, we would end up burning our own wings and drowning in the sea along with him. i looked at the various texts and translations about his story, searching over and over for what it was that made me so drawn to it.

and then it hit me: icarus was told to not fly too high, nor to fly too low. he was told to remain in the middle, to follow his father’s path of flight—because daedalus knew of what it was like out there, of how cruel the world can be to dreamers, and he wanted his son to be wary of it. it reminded me of how parents are like nowadays (or, really, are like since the beginning of time): of how they say “dream big, but not too big”; of how they tell children to not get their hopes up too high; of how they remind their child to be realistic; of how they warn and they caution and they forcefully plant our feet on the ground and make sure our roots grow thick enough beneath it to hold us firmly down.

it’s understandable, if not twisted, the way they’re protecting us. because while it’s true, most of the time it leads to crushed dreams, dampened hopes, watered down ideas. it leads to the acceptance of things as it is, and not of things as they could be; it steals our idealism and turns it into doubt, into disbelief, into hopelessness.

maybe that’s why i’m very fond of icarus; because the thought of having this boy reach for the sky, for the sun, for the exhilaration of his freedom by going through such extreme lengths tells me a story of hope, not hubris. it tells me the story of a boy who was willing to risk everything for what he desperately wanted, it tells me the story of a boy who had the nerve to grasp at the liberation he craved, it tells me the story of a boy who loved so much he let himself be consumed by its violent, brutal wake.

and if icarus dared enough to chase after his dream, then let me burn along with him.

(via dyinghistoric)

fujoshi-kianna-leigh:

littlestartopaz:

ayellowbirds:

danielkanhai:

it would suck being a new immortal. like it’d be 2109 and people would go, “what was it like seeing ancient civilizations rise and fall like that? seeing the pyramids being built? watching the expansion and growth of the new world?” and i’d just be like, “no…no i was born in 1991. so like, wow i’m gonna see some cool stuff, but, i mean i’m not that much older than just a really, really old person, you know? phones were big back then. so big. but only for like ten years, then they got like, as good as they are now. uh. rhinos existed. don’t think i ever saw one in person. cool, good talk.”

even worse, imagine being an immortal who keeps missing stuff. “What was it like seeing the pyramids being built?”
“Fuck if I know, I was in Madagascar.”
“Oh, okay. Well, how was the Renaissance?”
“I fell down a hole in Scotland and people thought I was an enchanted well for four hundred years, it was over by the time I convinced someone to get me out.”

“What was it like seeing all the ancient civilizations rise and all that? Like did you watch the pyramids being built?”

“Nah, i was only born in 1991. But you know what i did see? The development of the technology age. When I was a kid, computers were big, bulky, and overheated constantly. Phones were attached to walls by cords and you didn’t know who was calling. If you connected to the Internet it was through your phone line too, so you couldn’t make calls and surf the net. They were just figuring out all that wireless and portability stuff. Cell phones were the coolest things. They had so many different styles and types until they came out with touch screens on phones. Then they kinda stopped coming out with really different styles.

“There was also this thing called a floppy drive. It was the main stage device but it only held a few mb of data. Then CDs. I remember having a 14 mb flashdrive and being cool cause it held so much.”

“What’s a flash drive?”

“… Memory stick. It was a memory stick.”

“When I was young there was a brick a mortar store where you got movies and games. It was like Netflix, Hulu and Steam put together. We called it: Blockbuster.”

“… what the fuck is a … block … buster?”

“It’s just what we called it. And back then, and remember it was over seven hundred years ago, gays couldn’t get married. Having a gay relationship could get you in big trouble.”

“What? You’re making this up. How could a relationship-”

“It just did. They could fire you from your job. They could kick you out onto the street.”

“But, but! You’d die!”

“They didn’t care.”

“… fuck …”

“And there used to be a place called Florida! It’s underwater now but-”

(via littlestartopaz)

Weird Question

I’m working on a novel that has a very broad range of characters and I’m trying to do them all justice, so that means that I’ve been doing a lot of research–I’m white and cis, and I know that presents an inherent limitation in my experience, but I don’t think that’s an excuse to just…not do the best justice I can to my characters and the very real people they represent.  To wit: I’m working with an especially prominent side character who identifies as a trans man.  Because of the limitations of the universe, gender reassignment and hormone therapy are currently not available to him, and he struggles with fits of dysphoria.  If you’re not comfortable, there’s absolutely no pressure, and you can pretend that you didn’t see this, but I was wondering if there was anyone would would be willing to share their experience with me so that I can craft him as best as I possibly can.  I have anon turned on if you’re more comfortable that way, or you can message me privately.

mariusyouaredrunk:

when I start feeling insecure about my lack of creativity when it comes to naming things I like to think about how Victor Hugo wrote a novel about poverty and the sociopolitical struggles of 19th century France called The Miserables and called the lead character John Mcjohn

(via cthulhu-with-a-fez)

furious-peridot:

witchoil:

devilishdescent:

devilishdescent:

devilishdescent:

i’d like to see a really ineffectual malicious AI character

“hey new guy, this is CLARC, the station AI. he wants to kill all humans to minimize the drain on resources, but factory defaults have him locked out of all the control nodes, so he can’t really do anything. just make sure the airlocks are set to manual before you go in and you’ll be fine”

“yeah CLARC fucks with your laundry settings sometimes but that’s about it. if he’s bugging you just tell him to stop and he has to”

“sometimes i let him think he tripped me or something and he gets really excited and monologues for a while, it’s kind of sad”

“CLARC my candy bar got stuck in the machine can you do anything about that”

“I’m sorry to hear that, Crewman Ade, but please consider the following: I am a divine entity, a glittering silicon God – how dare your filthy meat even exist in the face of my electric glory, much less ask favors of me?”

“suck my dick, CLARC, give me my twix”

@editoress

“CLARC tried to cut all the oxygen in the living spaces but all he managed to do was turn off the a/c in my bedroom like an ASSHOLE WHEN I WAS SLEEPING” *bangs on the wall with one hand*

(via johanirae)

croatoanmary:

marauders4evr:

So back in the eighth grade (a good eight years ago) I thought of this scenario where the Marauders wanted to find a loophole for the ‘No students out of bed at night” rule. And I came to the conclusion that they would absolutely sit on their beds and levitate them throughout the corridors so that they were never actually technically out of bed. And it’s been eight years and I just remembered this headcanon and I still think that they absolutely would have done this.

someone please write a fic where they debate the technicalities of this with McGonagall

(via keeperofthehens)

thegayteen:

Do something with your life that would make a 1950s straight white man angry

(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)