Someone recently asked me why I like Braille, and my first thought was, I like Braille because I couldn’t live without it. I’m writing this post in Braille right now on my BrailleSense (my Braille notetaker mentioned last week).
My husband’s second blog post! Again, asking questions or giving input is greatly appreciated, and it will improve posts and give inspiration for new posts, so don’t be shy!!
for the morning crew!!
Galadriel for this challenge.
They were clad wholly in white; and the hair of the Lady was of deep gold… but no sign of age was upon them, unless it were in the depths of their eyes; for these were keen as lances in the starlight, and yet profound, the wells of deep memory.
You wanna talk Pacific Rim characters growing up with Harry Potter?
Stacker Pentecost was an eleven year old boy growing up in London when Philosopher’s Stone was first released.
He literally grew up with the series. Read one as they were released every year just before his own school year started up through age 14, waited anxiously through the long hiatus between Goblet of Fire in 2000 and Order of the Pheonix in 2003 (maybe followed along in fandom for a while in between, was there for the great Cassie Clare plagiarism drama and everything) only to cry and rage at Sirius’s death, betrayed, when OotP did finally come out (as me and all my friends who were also that age did).
But that’s also the year we meet Luna (also his sister’s name), and the bright spark of heroism and faithfulness and goodness that burns so bright at the heart of the character reminds him so much of his own Luna that he has a hard time reading it to Mako, later, stays up long after she’s fallen asleep on those nights, hands brushing along the worn spine of the book, remembering another little girl he once shared the magic of Hogwarts with, back when he was much littler, himself.
And if you tell me that when he stepped out of his Jaeger, looked down, and saw this dark-haired little girl with all that she’d ever known and loved ripped away from her by evil, he didn’t at least flash briefly back to the boy he’d grown up with who’d suffered much the same, who’d been lost until he looked up with hope and wonder into the eyes of a literal half-giant stranger who came to be as much of a father if not more than any of the other protective figures in his life, then I will tell you that you are wrong.
oh my god i am going to cry