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coveredinsnow-:

ilovemaydayparade69:

rubee:

"why dont you just give him a chance"

idk because im not physically or mentally attracted to him and ‘but he likes you’ or ‘but hes really nice’ isnt going to change the fact that im not interested

Damn, I don’t think women know how much that really hurts

image

carlygreig:

Raiders of the Lost Ark: Marion Ravenwood

Listen, Herr Mac, I don’t know what kind of people you’re used to dealing with, but nobody tells me what to do in my place.”

postracialcomments:

The young lady that was shot in the head by a police officer is still waiting to be interviewed by the police department
Ferguson Police claimed that 4 to 5 Black males conducted a drive by which resulted in a White woman being shot in the head. (Here, Here, Here)
(they’ve edited the articles to take out the white part and that she was killed hehehe)
Residents knew it was BS. 
Turns out Mya was shot by a police officer. The department forced surgeons to take the bullet out and took the bullet for “Ballistics”
Over a week later, she still has yet to be contacted by the department
Do not let her story go ignored

postracialcomments:

The young lady that was shot in the head by a police officer is still waiting to be interviewed by the police department

Ferguson Police claimed that 4 to 5 Black males conducted a drive by which resulted in a White woman being shot in the head. (Here, Here, Here)

(they’ve edited the articles to take out the white part and that she was killed hehehe)

Residents knew it was BS. 

Turns out Mya was shot by a police officer. The department forced surgeons to take the bullet out and took the bullet for “Ballistics”

Over a week later, she still has yet to be contacted by the department

Do not let her story go ignored

queertrees:

geekygothgirl:

verycuriousnocure:

During World War II, Josephine Baker served with the French Red Cross and was an active member of the French resistance movement. Using her career as a cover Baker became an intelligence agent, carrying secret messages written in invisible ink on her sheet music. She was awarded the Croix de Guerre, and received a Medal of the Resistance in 1946. In 1961 she received the highest French honor, the Legion d’Honneur awarded by then President Charles de Gaulle.
Our loss, U.S.A….

If you don’t admire the shit out of J. Baker, who was also pretty openly bisexual and adopted NINETEEN children in addition to the badassery mentioned above, I want you to go sit in the corner and think about your life choices.

um she was also a huge civil rights activist and her refusal to perform for segregated audiences at major clubs that were fallin over themselves to book her helped de-segregate vegas performance venues
aaaand she had a pet cheetah

queertrees:

geekygothgirl:

verycuriousnocure:

During World War II, Josephine Baker served with the French Red Cross and was an active member of the French resistance movement. Using her career as a cover Baker became an intelligence agent, carrying secret messages written in invisible ink on her sheet music. She was awarded the Croix de Guerre, and received a Medal of the Resistance in 1946. In 1961 she received the highest French honor, the Legion d’Honneur awarded by then President Charles de Gaulle.

Our loss, U.S.A….

If you don’t admire the shit out of J. Baker, who was also pretty openly bisexual and adopted NINETEEN children in addition to the badassery mentioned above, I want you to go sit in the corner and think about your life choices.

um she was also a huge civil rights activist and her refusal to perform for segregated audiences at major clubs that were fallin over themselves to book her helped de-segregate vegas performance venues

aaaand she had a pet cheetah

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.
Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.
“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”
“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”
“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”
“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”
You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.
I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.
There are two wars.
There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.
A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.
She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.
There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.
There are two wars.
Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.
He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.
Come home, Gittel.
Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.
Δ ○ |Resist
“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.
There are two wars.
It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.
The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”
They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.
“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.
“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.
There are two wars.
The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.
“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.
“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.
She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.
“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”
Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.
There are two wars.
“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”
“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.
She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.
The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.
There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.
There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.
She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.
“Wait!”
(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.

Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.

“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”

“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”

“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”

“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”

You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.

I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.

There are two wars.

There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.

A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.

She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.

There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.

There are two wars.

Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.

He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.

Come home, Gittel.

Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.

Δ ○ |
Resist

“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.

There are two wars.

It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.

The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”

They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.

“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.

“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.

There are two wars.

The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.

“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.

“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.

She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.

“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”

Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.

There are two wars.

“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”

“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.

She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.

The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.

There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.

There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.

She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.

“Wait!”

(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

jewbat:

literally all i’ve ever cared about in harry potter is what the jewish witches and wizards were doing during wwii

You have no idea how many fics I’ve thought about and planned on and wanted to write about wizards in WWII. Things going on so horrible that of course the wizarding world can’t fail to take notice, right? Do the Death Eaters have roots in the literal wizard nazi movement? Protective spells cast over No. 1 Downing Street and the Eagle’s Nest, wizard bodyguards for churchill and hitler alike, wizards using magical means to hide (or detect) jews and roma and other undesirables? I just…. WWII messes me up emotionally enough normally, trying to figure in wizards to it turns it up to 11.

Like the young scottish wizard who hollows out his rifle stock just enough to fit his wand in. His is the squad that always manages to find water in the North African desert, that never gets lost on patrol, whose gear breaks down less than any other, whose wounded are almost always miraculously healed by the time the medics arrive. He’s the one they always send out on patrol to take german prisoners, because even if he’s a lousy rifle shot he seems to have no trouble moving around unseen or knocking people out. He’s the one that the ministry of magic contacted after his draft notice came (since he’s half muggle, y’see), saying that they had a witch in the draft office that could make his paperwork disappear. This is older Wizarding Britain after all, maybe they thought that wizarding blood was to precious to be spilled in the wars of muggles.

How strongly does the international statute of wizard-secrets-whatever hold in the face of blitzkrieg? Is it like poisoned gas, or nuclear weapons? Neither side wants to use it first because once it starts, it’s impossible to control the monster that is Magical warfare on the industrial scale?

idk man. idk. Wizarding WWII fucks me up.

amidala-skywalkers:

Star Wars+ Scenery

moonglade-poetess:

tastefullyoffensive:

Bop it, Twist it, Pull it, Spin it, Flick it.


fixed it.

moonglade-poetess:

tastefullyoffensive:

Bop it, Twist it, Pull it, Spin it, Flick it.

fixed it.

(Source: memewhore)

whiskeydrinking-operating:

This is Chester. When I was in Afghanistan I got a care package from one of those “Adopt a Soldier” programs that lets families send care packages to service men and women who are deployed overseas. Anyway, I got this care package, and it came with the usual stuff: Baby wipes, crackers, peanut butter, the Dad threw in a pack of cigarettes, and there was some jerky. But there was also a little beanie baby gold fish and a hand written note from a 7 year old girl that said  “Dear Soldier, (I wasn’t even mad) I hope you are doing well. I’m sorry you have to miss thanksgiving with your family. This is my friend Chester. He keeps me safe from monsters, but I think you need him more than I do. I hope he keeps you safe from the monsters you’re fighting. Take good care of him for me”.
You bet your ass that little fish was in my pocket every time I went on patrol.

whiskeydrinking-operating:

This is Chester. When I was in Afghanistan I got a care package from one of those “Adopt a Soldier” programs that lets families send care packages to service men and women who are deployed overseas. Anyway, I got this care package, and it came with the usual stuff: Baby wipes, crackers, peanut butter, the Dad threw in a pack of cigarettes, and there was some jerky. But there was also a little beanie baby gold fish and a hand written note from a 7 year old girl that said
“Dear Soldier, (I wasn’t even mad)
I hope you are doing well. I’m sorry you have to miss thanksgiving with your family. This is my friend Chester. He keeps me safe from monsters, but I think you need him more than I do. I hope he keeps you safe from the monsters you’re fighting. Take good care of him for me”.

You bet your ass that little fish was in my pocket every time I went on patrol.

a-little-melancholy:

chaz-gelf:

sixmilliondeadinternets:

Gandhi has been historically the most aggressive character in Civilization due to an original bug in the first game that caused him to go all-out once he reaches democracy. They just kept the thing going ever since.


To further explain this bug, because I was chatting with mothmonarch about Civilization and other strategy games last night and I never got around to explaining this fully, but I love this story:
Gandhi’s AI in the original game had its aggression set to the absolute minimum (0 on a scale of 0 to 10, I believe, I may have this wrong but the basic idea I’m about to explain is accurate, as far as I can tell). Adopting democracy lowers an AI civ’s aggression by 2 points, so when someone who is fully peaceful loses two points of aggression, they should still be nice and polite, right?
Except this is an old DOS game, and so computer math is in place. What actually happened was that Gandhi’s aggression level ticked backwards two steps, from 0 to 255. On a scale of 0 to 10, Gandhi is now 255 points of pure nuclear rage.
And that’s the story as I recall it, but again I may have gotten some details wrong, so feel free to correct me! After that, as the original poster said, the devs loved the bug so much that they just kept it in as a running joke!

“On a scale of 0 to 10, Gandhi is now 255 points of pure nuclear rage.”I about pissed myself laughing at this.

a-little-melancholy:

chaz-gelf:

sixmilliondeadinternets:

Gandhi has been historically the most aggressive character in Civilization due to an original bug in the first game that caused him to go all-out once he reaches democracy. They just kept the thing going ever since.

To further explain this bug, because I was chatting with mothmonarch about Civilization and other strategy games last night and I never got around to explaining this fully, but I love this story:

Gandhi’s AI in the original game had its aggression set to the absolute minimum (0 on a scale of 0 to 10, I believe, I may have this wrong but the basic idea I’m about to explain is accurate, as far as I can tell). Adopting democracy lowers an AI civ’s aggression by 2 points, so when someone who is fully peaceful loses two points of aggression, they should still be nice and polite, right?

Except this is an old DOS game, and so computer math is in place. What actually happened was that Gandhi’s aggression level ticked backwards two steps, from 0 to 255On a scale of 0 to 10, Gandhi is now 255 points of pure nuclear rage.

And that’s the story as I recall it, but again I may have gotten some details wrong, so feel free to correct me! After that, as the original poster said, the devs loved the bug so much that they just kept it in as a running joke!

On a scale of 0 to 10, Gandhi is now 255 points of pure nuclear rage.”

I about pissed myself laughing at this.

(Source: halcy)