A Patchwork Life

living life one patch at a time

39,669 notes

chicagochi:

allotherfairiesfly:

Will this about cover it? This should cover it just fine, Lottie!

I just love Lottie’s adorable little jump here!!!

I love how Tiana was never too proud to accept help from friends, and the movie didn’t show this as making her any less hard working or devoted. I think that’s an important lesson.

Similarly, Lottie was always giving and loving, even though she was by all counts supposedly a spoiled brat. This is truly one of my favorite Disney friendships.

(via rinzijade)

52,846 notes

homebeccer:

"oh my god stop criticizing young girls who like 50 Shades of Gray or Twilight you can’t tell them what they can and can’t read"

no we can’t but we have to protect young girls from mistaking abusive behavior for genuine affection at all costs

(via marvel-pin-up-girl)

138,950 notes

Ron Weasley’s character is consciously written as somewhat racist. Not as racist as Malfoy, of course - he doesn’t scoff at mudbloods and halfbloods, and he doesn’t see himself as superior at all. Still, he unquestionably accepts the inferior position of house elves (they love serving), when he finds out that Lupin’s werewolf his reaction is not only scared but also disgusted (Don’t touch me!) and he is clearly very uncomfortable finding out that Hagrid is half-giant (giants are wild and savage).
And this is brilliant. Because it demonstrates that racism isn’t only present in clearly malicious and evil people, in the Malfoys and Blacks - it’s also there in warm, kind, funny people who just happened to learn some pretty toxic things growing up in a pretty toxic society. And they can unlearn them too, with some time and effort. Ron eventually accepts Hagrid’s parentage, lets Lupin bandage his leg and in the final battle, he worries about the safety of the house elves.
Some people are prejudiced because they are evil, and some people are prejudiced because they don’t know better yet. And those people can learn better, and become better people. And that’s an important lesson. The lesson taught about discrimination shouldn’t be “only evil people do it”, because then all readers will assume it doesn’t apply to them. Instead old JK teaches us “you too are probably doing it, and you should do stop ASAP”.
damned if i do.: Ron is racist - and that’s great  (via raphmike)

(via web-of-t-ruth)

17,932 notes

Toad Words

jumpingjacktrash:

the-real-seebs:

ursulavernon:

            Frogs fall out of my mouth when I talk. Toads, too.

            It used to be a problem.

            There was an incident when I was young and cross and fed up parental expectations. My sister, who is the Good One, has gold fall from her lips, and since I could not be her, I had to go a different way.

            So I got frogs. It happens.

            “You’ll grow into it,” the fairy godmother said. “Some curses have cloth-of-gold linings.” She considered this, and her finger drifted to her lower lip, the way it did when she was forgetting things. “Mind you, some curses just grind you down and leave you broken. Some blessings do that too, though. Hmm. What was I saying?”

            I spent a lot of time not talking. I got a slate and wrote things down. It was hard at first, but I hated to drop the frogs in the middle of the road. They got hit by cars, or dried out, miles away from their damp little homes.

            Toads were easier. Toads are tough. After awhile, I learned to feel when a word was a toad and not a frog. I could roll the word around on my tongue and get the flavor before I spoke it. Toad words were drier. Desiccated is a toad word. So is crisp and crisis and obligation. So are elegant and matchstick.

            Frog words were a bit more varied. Murky. Purple. Swinging. Jazz.

I practiced in the field behind the house, speaking words over and over, sending small creatures hopping into the evening.  I learned to speak some words as either toads or frogs. It’s all in the delivery.

            Love is a frog word, if spoken earnestly, and a toad word if spoken sarcastically. Frogs are not good at sarcasm.

            Toads are masters of it.

            I learned one day that the amphibians are going extinct all over the world, that some of them are vanishing. You go to ponds that should be full of frogs and find them silent. There are a hundred things responsible—fungus and pesticides and acid rain.

            When I heard this, I cried “What!?” so loudly that an adult African bullfrog fell from my lips and I had to catch it. It weighed as much as a small cat. I took it to the pet store and spun them a lie in writing about my cousin going off to college and leaving the frog behind.

            I brooded about frogs for weeks after that, and then eventually, I decided to do something about it.

            I cannot fix the things that kill them. It would take an army of fairy godmothers, and mine retired long ago. Now she goes on long cruises and spreads her wings out across the deck chairs.

            But I can make more.

            I had to get a field guide at first. It was a long process. Say a word and catch it, check the field marks. Most words turn to bronze frogs if I am not paying attention.

            Poison arrow frogs make my lips go numb. I can only do a few of those a day. I go through a lot of chapstick.  

            It is a holding action I am fighting, nothing more. I go to vernal pools and whisper sonnets that turn into wood frogs. I say the words squeak and squill and spring peepers skitter away into the trees. They begin singing almost the moment they emerge.

            I read long legal documents to a growing audience of Fowler’s toads, who blink their goggling eyes up at me. (I wish I could do salamanders. I would read Clive Barker novels aloud and seed the streams with efts and hellbenders. I would fly to Mexico and read love poems in another language to restore the axolotl. Alas, it’s frogs and toads and nothing more. We make do.)

            The woods behind my house are full of singing. The neighbors either learn to love it or move away.

            My sister—the one who speaks gold and diamonds—funds my travels. She speaks less than I do, but for me and my amphibian friends, she will vomit rubies and sapphires. I am grateful.

            I am practicing reading modernist revolutionary poetry aloud. My accent is atrocious. Still, a day will come when the Panamanian golden frog will tumble from my lips, and I will catch it and hold it, and whatever word I spoke, I’ll say again and again, until I stand at the center of a sea of yellow skins, and make from my curse at last a cloth of gold.

Terri Windling posted recently about the old fairy tale of frogs falling from a girl’s lips, and I started thinking about what I’d do if that happened to me, and…well…

!.

You know how if you go through years and years of “best science fiction short stories”, every so often you find some short story you’ve never heard of before, but it’s just amazing and brilliant and leaves you wondering why you never read stories with that plot before? This is one of those.

Seriously, wow.

this made me smile.

i’m still smiling.

(via dovahkiin)

8,569 notes

sandboxalchemy:

The Faerie Queene - 2013 - PhotoshopSee it on Deviant Art!
…Unlike some fairy folk, she is not young and lithe, a wisp of a spirit passing through the ether… but, on the contrary, she is shrewd, powerful, and kind, possessing a grace and elegance that never fades… and she has far more interesting stories to tell, if you care to listen.
I’ve been working on this digital painting for the past couple of weeks. I thought it might be time to share it with the world. I hope you like! 
Edit: Thank you for all the faves and reblogs! When I originally posted this image, I had no idea how popular it would become. (Most of my blogs do not receive much attention.) This image was something of a personal exercise, and there were still details I was hammering out. My apologies! For the most recent iteration: See it on Deviant Art!

sandboxalchemy:

The Faerie Queene - 2013 - Photoshop
See it on Deviant Art!

…Unlike some fairy folk, she is not young and lithe, a wisp of a spirit passing through the ether… but, on the contrary, she is shrewd, powerful, and kind, possessing a grace and elegance that never fades… and she has far more interesting stories to tell, if you care to listen.

I’ve been working on this digital painting for the past couple of weeks. I thought it might be time to share it with the world. I hope you like! 

Edit: Thank you for all the faves and reblogs! When I originally posted this image, I had no idea how popular it would become. (Most of my blogs do not receive much attention.) This image was something of a personal exercise, and there were still details I was hammering out. My apologies! For the most recent iteration: See it on Deviant Art!

(via dead-star-residue)