Tag: all the feels

it starts quiet 
the burning rage inside us 
but darling, don’t hold it in for too long 

because don’t you know that we are dangerous
that we are conquerors, not the conquered 
that we have been barred from the podium before
and we never will be again

because we’ve had to fight to do things that are as natural as the sunset
that are as necessary as water
and don’t you know, that makes freedom more precious 
don’t you know, all our hearts are barely contained volcanos 

and it’s restless, this type of desperation, this type of longing
it tugs at contentment, like the tide drawing rocks in the sea
and it’s ours 

 these steel spines, these held hands, these broken hearts
we can turn them into destruction, we can turn them in constellations
we can burn your kingdom down
we can rebuild the shattered pieces of the universe 

and you’ll never be able to take that away
because you were the ones who made us impervious to the flame
darling, that rage, that hope, those are ours

here’s to the girls by Abby S (via fireandsteelofangels)

happy international women’s day!!!!

dedicated in part to: @marauders-groupie @goodqueenalys @montygreen @ohmypreciousgirl @gabrielledelacour @blyedeeks @junebugninja @allisonaergents @solobellamy @bensolcs @deadcatwithaflamethrower @deadshotbellamy @abazethe100 @sometimesrosy @thesnowyswan @asexual-mechanic @everybodyknows-everybodydies @gustinfucker @nerdiestblake @harpermcintyre @jynersos @rashaka @thatonekimgirl @jahaliel @so-caffeinated @dust2dust34 @jbuffyangel @clarkebellamy @martinlydia @rongasm @kazghaffa @lucys-preston @head-and-heart @ravenbellclarke @thelovelylights @grumpybell @wellsjahasghost @wellamyblake

(via the-ships-to-rule-them-all)

bloodphoenix:

alayshalifts:

faintedincoils:

cruelbl00m:

cookiexslut:

I’m such a sap I teared up so hard while reading this. Pits don’t deserve the mistreatment they get, they’re such sweet babies.

My sweet babe wouldn’t ever hurt someone unless I was in real danger. Such a perfect breed.

Sources for the stories: 

Chako

Lefty (apparently she lost one leg but is otherwise fine and well)

Baby

Creature

Bella

This made me cry its so sweet. I love them

Good doggies are so good and pure and we don’t deserve them 😭

@elegantmess-southernbelle

thebibliosphere:

wtfiswrongwithme:

keepcalmimspidey:

midoriko-sama:

the-chicken-is-not-amused:

artschoolglasses:

I will never forgive them for cutting out this scene.

Tumblr app doesn’t show this gif set but I already know what it is. No need to hesitate to reblog.

And he did this just before a road trip, stuck in the car with his parents asking what he was thinking.

The look of utter defiance Dudley gives Vernon as he steps over the fence though 

And how he does it really slowly as well as if to say “What you gonna do about it huh?”

The phone rings. It was an absurd wedding gift from his father in-law, and one which much to Harry’s surprise, had actually worked when he’d plugged it into the landline. Arthur had taken to phoning him on it, just for the pure novelty of the thing—though how they’d managed to get a BT engineer out to the Burrow without causing an incident, Harry doesn’t know. He’s not sure he wants to.

“Hello?”

“Uhm,, is this…is this the Potter residence?”

There’s a beat of silence as Harry adjusts the receiver against his ear, not quite sure he’s heard who he thinks he has. “…Dudley?”

“Yea…uhm, Harry?”

“Dudley.” Harry repeats numbly, turning to look at Ginny who is looking at him expectantly, eyebrows raised. “Uh…Christ, Dudley, hi how did…how did you find this number?”

There’s another beat of silence and the crackle of static that might have been a sigh or simply just the line breaking up. “Hi, sorry I know you probably…sorry this was stupid. I uh, I put your name in the computer and this was the only thing that came up.”

“Oh.” Harry breathes, still trying to recover his equilibrium. Ten minutes ago he’d been using his wand to clear away dinner, he’d been getting ready to sit down and read through some reports before putting the kids to bed, and now somehow, he’s talking to his muggle cousin who he hasn’t seen since… “How, how are you?”

“Good, yea” Dudley replies, seeming to rally, “You?”

“Yea, uh, doing well…”

The conversation lasts maybe a half hour, faltering and awkward. But they’re going for a coffee at the end of the week and Harry supposes…that’s…that’s a thing that is happening.

*

“Harry…”

Harry turns and looks up, and looks up some more at the looming figure blocking out the light. 

“Dudley,” he says, standing up and hoping the pang of something awful doesn’t show on his face. For a moment he thought he’d been looking at Vernon. “It’s good to see you.”

Dudley gives him a look that says he clearly knows Harry is lying, but is thankful for being humored. “You too, you’re looking good…”

They pass the  first few minutes with awkward pleasantries and even more awkward silences. But it’s…nice would be too strong a word, but it’s not bad either. He even manages to get a smile out of him when he calls him Big D, the other man shaking his head with a self depreciating eye roll.

“Dad died,” Dudley says after a while, and Harry feels an icy hot flash go down his spine, curdling in his gut.

“Oh,” he says, not quite sure how he’s supposed to feel about that, “I’m sorry to hear that.”

Dudley snorts into his coffee. “Somehow I doubt it.” and it’s not accusing, but Harry still can’t help but feel like he should defend himself. The words they locked me in a cupboard are on the cusp of his tongue but Dudley gets there before him. “There’s a lot of things…looking back…lot of things…” and it’s not an apology, not really. “Took me a long time to realize certain things weren’t right…too long.” 

Harry nods at that, because yes, it had also taken him a long time too to understand the full of extent of what had gone on in 4 Privet Drive. He still doesn’t like tight spaces.

“You realize things though, when you have kids,” Dudley carries on, shaking his head, “Like they’re just kids, how can you do that to a kid? They need you for everything.”

And Harry can relate to that too. Lily is three and Ginny is pregnant again and James already has an alarming alacrity for finding trouble and with or without magic Harry doesn’t have enough hands to deal with it all. But he loves it, and he loves them, and the thought of anyone ever treating his children the way he remembers his first eleven years of life is enough to make the electric lights over their head flicker. 

“You’ve got kids?”

“Two,” Harry says, “third one on the way. You?”

“Nice. Just the one, so far.” He hands over his phone, the image of a bright young girl with dark skin and tight ringlet curls staring back at him from the grasp of Dudley’s arms. “Effie.” He smiles ruefully at Harry’s obvious surprise. “Dad wasn’t too happy about that either.”

“She’s gorgeous.” Harry says, handing the phone back and pulling out his own wallet to reveal the moving pictures inside. 

Dudley flinches a bit at that, but he guffaws broadly when he spies James. “Cor, he don’t half look like you. No glasses though.”

“No,” Harry says, pushing his own glasses back up his nose. “He’s got his mother’s eyes, thankfully.”

“Actually, Harry, there was something I was hoping we could…talk about.”

And ah, there it is. “What about?”

“It’s…it’s about Effie…”

And when he’s done talking Harry just wants to lean back and laugh and laugh and laugh, because of course Vernon Dursley’s granddaughter is a witch, of course she is. But he doesn’t, because Dudley is doing the one thing he can think of to try and help his child, and Harry can’t fault him for that.

*

They keep in touch after that. Christmas cards, postcards—gifts for the kids on birthdays. The year Effie turns eleven—the same as James—Harry drops a casually long thought out text into the familial void.

“Diagon A this weekend, if you’re up for it?”

The text comes back quickly, a little too quickly for the way Dudders pecks at his phone whenever Harry has seen him typing. “Snds gd, 1st pint on u 😉 – Big D 🍺🍺🍺👌👍”

It’ll be painfully awkward, it always is. But it’s something.

Ew! Please. :)

theotherguysride:

*adjust marshmallow stick* 

Okay, first of all you’re one of my faves because your content is quality. You’re problematic because A: you don’t have a sword (or lightsaber, acceptable substitute) but you also don’t have NEARLY enough sandwiches in your day. 

God damn, have a snack. 

Like Norcumi, you don’t give yourself nearly as much credit as you should. You’ve got this idea that you need to do ‘as much’ as people, when you’ve consistently done ENOUGH over the last what, year that I’ve been following you? to improve, to live a better life. 

Your documenting your days is a comfort honestly. I can look at your twice daily posts of your status, how honest it is, and I can say ‘hey, she’s doing okay’ and also ‘hey, she needs a smile’ and I can rebagel something ridiculous to make you grin. I don’t tag you always but I KNOW. 

Also JFC snuggle your cat more. She’s a ball of love and floof and yowling complaints but she loves you and is good for you. Making you do things at LEAST twice a day even! She’s a sweet floof and deserves snuggles and possibly a laser pointer. 

Literally the LEAST PROBLEMATIC FAVE EVER JFC. 

*passes out s’mores*

*is currently in tears, though happy tears*

fattyatomicmutant:

space-australians:

the-real-seebs:

madddscience:

An interesting sci-fi short story from 4chan.

[Imgur]

That is some fine writing.

The Imgur link is broken so:

[Series of posts on 09/16/11]

About twelve years ago, a man died in high orbit over Tau Ceti V.

His name was Drake McDougal, and aside from a few snapshots and vague anecdotes from his drinking buddies, that’s probably all we’ll ever know about him. Another colony-born man with little records and little documentation, working whatever asteroid field the Dracs deigned to allow them. Every now and then a Drac gunship would strut on through the system, Pax Draconia and all that. But that was it.

One fine day, one of those gunships had a misjump. A bad one. It arrived only ninety clicks above atmo, with all its impellers blown out by the gravatic feedback of Tau Ceti V’s gravity well. The Dracs scraped enough power together for a good system-wide broadbeam and were already beginning the Death Chant when they hit atmo.

People laughed at the recording of sixty Dracs going from mysterious chanting to “’what-the-fuck’ing” for years after they forgot the name Drake McDougal. The deafening “CLANG” and split second of stunned silence afterwards never failed to entertain. Drake had performed a hasty re-entry seconds after the gunship and partially slagged his heatshield diving after it. Experts later calculated he suffered 11Gs when he leaned on the retro to match velocities with the Dracs long enough to engage the mag-grapples on his little mining tug.

Even the massively overpowered drive of a tug has its limits, and Drake’s little ship hit hers about one and a half minutes later. Pushed too far, the tug’s fusion plant lost containment just as he finished slingshotting the gunship into low orbit. (It was unharmed, of course; the Drac opinion of fusion power best translated as “quaint,” kind of how we view butter churns.)

It was on the local news within hours, on newsnets across human space within days. It was discussed, memorialized, marveled upon, chewed over by daytime talk-show hosts, and I think somebody even bought a plaque or some shit like that. Then there was a freighter accident, and a mass-shooting on Orbital 5, and of course, the first Vandal attacks in the periphery.

The galaxy moved on.

Twelve years is a long time, especially during war, so twelve years later, as the Vandal’s main fleet was jumping in near Jupiter and we were strapping into the crash couches of what wee enthusiastically called “warships,” I guaran-fucking-tee you not one man in the entire Defense Force could remember who Drake McDougal was.

Well, the Dracs sure as hell did.

Dracs do not fuck around. Dozens of two-kilometer long Drac supercaps jumped in barely 90K klicks away, and then we just stood around staring at our displays like the slack-jawed apes we were as we watched what a real can of galactic whoop-ass looked like. You could actually see the atmosphere of Jupiter roil occasionally when a Vandal ship happened to cross between it and the Drac fleet. There’s still lightning storms on Jupiter now, something about residual heavy ions and massive static charges or something.

Fifty-eight hours later, with every Vandal ship reduced to slagged debris and nine wounded Drac ships spinning about as they vented atmosphere, they started with the broad-band chanting again. And then the communiqué that confused the hell out of us all.

“Do you hold out debt fulfilled?”

After the sixth or seventh comms officer told them “we don’t know what the hell you’re talking about” as politely as possible, the Drac fleet commander got on the horn and asked to speak to a human Admiral in roughly the same tone as a telemarketer telling a kid to give the phone to Daddy. When the Admiral didn’t know either, the Drac went silent for a minute, and when he came back on his translator was using much smaller words, and talking slower.

“Is our blood debt to Drake McDougal’s clan now satisfied?”

The Admiral said “Who?”

What the Drac commander said next would’ve caused a major diplomatic incident had he remembered to revert to the more complex translation protocols. He thought the Admiral must be an idiot, a coward, or both. Eventually, the diplomats were called out, and we were asked why the human race has largely forgotten the sacrifice of Drake McDougal.

Humans, we explained, sacrifice themselves all the time.

We trotted out every news clip from the space-wide Nets from the last twelve years. Some freighter cook that fell on a grenade during a pirate raid on Outreach. A ship engineer who locked himself into the reactor room and kept containment until the crew evacuated. Firefighter who died shielding a child from falling debris with his body, during an earthquake. Stuff like that.

That Dracs were utterly stunned. Their diplomats wandered out of the conference room in a daze. We’d just told them that the rarest, most selfless and honorable of acts – acts that incurred generations-long blood-debts and moved entire fleets – was so routine for our species that they were bumped off the news by the latest celebrity scandal.

Everything changed for humanity after that. And it was all thanks to a single tug pilot who taught the galaxy what truly defines Man.

This makes me cry

xvnot15:

scarimor:

ashermajestywishes:

bookstorepropaganda:

ahu-gozlumm:

🙂

I’m only slightly crying.

I’m completely crying.

my 16 yearr old son is watching over my shoulder and we’re both crying

I use this in my cheder classes at synagogue when we’re learning about Gemilut Chasidim, acts of loving kindness. It’s really important to start the message off with the point that no religion corners the market on that concept. This is an amazing and life affirming commercial of all things. Brilliant.

spikedluv:

actuallyclintbarton:

cantgetanygayerthanthat:

becksndot5:

A little video we all should take a moment to watch and think about. 

Instead of thinking about what divides us we should think about what we have in common…

I’ve reblogged this on every account I have.

This is simplistic and intended to tug on heartstrings and all that shit but guys I really needed to see something about people not being dicks so if you needed that too please watch this.

Thanks for this, Denmark.

It worked. Consider my heartstrings tugged.

Bedtime 4 Apr 17

I was wrapping my braids around my head idly and they each go all the way around my head. I have a crown made of hair, and it’s pinned up with two hair forks, and it is GLORIOUS!

Also, it’s coming down in about half an hour so I can sleep, but still. Crown. Made from my own hair growing from my head. Now it just needs flowers. All I have outside is daffodils right now, and I’m not sure I actually want them in my hair. Also, would probably bulk up my hair too much to do the crown thing so nicely.

Somewhere I have artificial vines and flowers. I should find them. Make a flower crown to go with my hair.

(I have not had my hair do this since I was a tiny Morgyn. It wasn’t quite long enough when I was a teenager/young adult to do this. Almost, but not quite.)