if anyone’s around for a chat that would be awesome just verging on panic attack waiting for my roommates to go out needing to face the actually i’m not going out moment.
Just tried Turkish Delight for the first time.
It was good, but not “Sell out my family to the White Queen” good.
I’ve said this before and I’ll point it out again -
Menstruation is caused by change in hormonal levels to stop the creation of a uterine lining and encourage the body to flush the lining out. The body does this by lowering estrogen levels and raising testosterone.
Or, to put it more plainly “That time of the month” is when female hormones most closely resemble male hormones. So if (cis) women aren’t suited to office at “That time of the month” then (cis) men are NEVER suited to office.
If you are a dude and don’t dig the ladies around you at their time of the month, just think! That is you all of the time.
And, on a final note, post-menopausal (cis) women are the most hormonally stable of all human demographics. They have fewer hormonal fluctuations of anyone, meaning older women like Hilary Clinton and Elizabeth Warren would theoretically be among the least likely candidates to make an irrational decision due to hormonal fluctuations, and if we were basing our leadership decisions on hormone levels, then only women over fifty should ever be allowed to hold office."
i think this may just be the greatest string of tweets in the history of mankind
TO BE COMPLETELY HONEST I REMEMBER EVERYTHING BUT READING THESE TWEETS AGAIN AFTER SO MANY MONTHS IT ALMOST FEELS SURREAL LIKE “I CANT BELIEVE THIS PERSON IS ME”
"Somebody said to me, ‘You’ll never be in a film as successful as Harry Potter.’
“I said ‘You’re right, but neither will anyone else.’”
Imagine Hogwarts after the Battle, after the War, sure –
But imagine Hogwarts’ students, after their year with the Carrows and Snape.
Imagine a tiny little first-year whose porcupine pincushions still have quills, but to whom Fiendfyre comes easily. The second-year who tried to go back, to fight; whose bravado got Professor Sinistra killed, as she pushed him out of the way of a Killing Curse. The third-year who perfectly brewed poisons, hands shaking, wishing for the courage to spike the Carrows’ cups. The fourth-year who throws away all of their teacups, their palmistry guidebooks, because what use is Divination if it didn’t see this coming? The fifth-year who can barely remember what O.W.L.S. are, let alone that she was supposed to take them. The sixth-year who can’t manage Lumos to save their life, but whose proficiency with the Cruciatus Curse rivals Bellatrix’s.
Imagine the seventh-year who laughs until he cries, thinking about the first-years who will fall asleep in History of Magic while their story is told.
Imagine the Muggleborn first-years left alive, if there are any: imagine what they think of the magical world, when their introduction to it was Death Eaters and being tortured – by their classmates –for having been born.
Imagine the students who went home to their parents (or guardians, or wards, or orphanages) and showed them what they’d learned: Dark curses, hexes, Unforgiveables; that Muggles are filth, animals, lesser. Who, yes, still can’t transfigure a match into a needle – but Mum, there’s a hex that can make you feel as though you’re being stabbed with thousands. (Don’t ask them how they know.)
Imagine the students who will never be able to see Hogwarts as home.
Imagine the students Hogwarts has left, when it starts up again – the lack of Muggleborns, blood-traitors, half-bloods, dead and gone – the lack of purebloods; the Ministry would have chucked everyone of age (and possibly just below) in Azkaban for Unforgiveables, wouldn’t they?
Imagine how few students there are left to teach; imagine how few teachers are left to teach them.
Imagine the students who can’t walk past a particular classroom, who can’t walk through a hallway, who can’t walk into the Great Hall without having a panic attack or breaking down. Imagine the school-wide discovery that the carriages aren’t horseless after all; that everyone, from the firsties to the teachers, can see Thestrals.
Imagine the memorials, the heaps of flowers and mementoes – in every other corner, hallway, classroom; every other step you take on the grounds.
Imagine the ghosts.
Imagine the students destroying Snape’s portrait, using the curses, hexes, even Fiendfyre they’ve been taught how to wield – it has to be restored nearly every week; Snape stays with Phineas Nigellus semi-permanently. (None of the other portraits will welcome him. His reasons do not excuse his conduct.)
Imagine the students unable to trust each other – everyone informed on everyone, your best friend might turn you in.
Imagine the guilt that everyone carries (it should have been me, it’s my fault s/he’s dead, I told on them, it’s all my fault), the students incapable of meeting each other’s eyes because it’s my fault your best friend, your sibling, your Housemate, your boy/girlfriend is dead.
Imagine the memorials piled high with the wands of the dead. Imagine the memorials piled high with the self-snapped wands of the living.
Imagine the students who are never able to produce a Patronus.
Imagine Boggarts being removed from the curriculum because Riddikulus is near impossible to grasp, even for the sixth- and seventh-years. Because their friends and families dead will never, ever be funny.
Imagine the students for whom magic feels tainted.
Imagine the students who leave the wixen world – hell, the students who leave Britain entirely, because there’s nothing left for them there.
Imagine the students who never use magic again.
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickasslavenderpatilbecause everyone should read it
I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.
Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them.
Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.”
Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do.
Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after.
Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids.
Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?
Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them.
Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs.
Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there.
Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together.
Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny.
Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some.
Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now.
Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps.
And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed.
(and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)
I’M SAVING THESE TO FUCK WITH PEOPLE’S BRAINS
oh my god
huge trigger warning but oh my god
No…no… Comedy central unfortunately hit the nail on the year and just ouch
This is an important message on how privilege really works.
it’s good to remember that we shouldn’t only define ourselves by our marginalized identities. for example I am cis, I am middle class, I am educated, I speak English, I am a documented citizen—remember all of those identities you possess that give you privilege.
Always check your privilege. Everyone has one in some way
This is so cool! But what country are they from? “Africa” is really vague.
Their names are Duro-Aina Adebola, Akindele Abiola, Faleke Oluwatoyin, and Bello Eniola and they’re from Lagos, Nigeria. There’s a neat video about them here.
boost the fuck out of this, and make sure you include their goddamn names and country of origin.
isn’t captain hook and his crew suppose to be a lost boys who escaped and that’s why he’s trying to kill peter pan
…what the actual fuck
I NEVER TRUSTED PETER PAN
nah everything in Peter Pan was fucked up.
Tinkerbell and her fairy buddies were having an orgy when they found baby Peter. Tinks also extremely jealous, tricking one of the Lost Boys into shooting Wendy in the fucking chest.
Peter’s also crazy omnipotent. Like, he “make believes” he’s a doctor, and heals Wendy. When he’s hungry, he pretends to eat imaginary food and his stomach actually gets fuller.
He’s also a dick. He would teach children how to fly but never how to stop, so they’d fly for months on straight without rest or break, and they couldn’t sleep either or they’d stop flying. And when one of Wendy’s brothers actually fell asleep and plummeted into the ocean, Peter laughed his ass off. He only saved him when Wendy begged him too.
okay but that’s the point of Peter Pan. It’s not supposed to glorify never growing up, it’s supposed to show kids why growing up is not only good, but necessary otherwise they’d end up as fucked up as Peter. He never matured, never learned right from wrong, he never listened to his parents because - according to Peter - he ran away as an infant.It’s a tale to teach children that listening to their parents and growing up is good. As far as Tinker Bell goes, if you actually read Peter Pan you would know that fairies only feel one emotion at a time and they feel that emotion very strongly so the orgy? lust. Trying to kill Wendy? Jealousy. She embodies the seven deadly sins and what happens if you let your emotions get the best of you. (And as far as the new fairies series of films making her nicer it’s because you only see the jealous side of her in Peter Pan and you see other sides of her in the series because those movies are about her).
Rant over, you can go back to your regularly scheduled blogging now.
So if Peter Pan shows up in your window. Stab him in the fucking chest kids. You have school tomorrow
Reblogging because I believe this will be important to the Once Upon a Time fandom tomorrow.
It’s more complicated than that. Peter is kind of a tragic hero. He chooses not to grow up, he knows he is incomplete.
I mean, he cut off Hook’s hand because he thought it was a game. He clearly doesn’t know right from wrong. He also only knows the unconditional love of a mother to a child, which is why he thinks everyone wants to be his mother. He also switches sides in a fight just for fun, kill pirates for fun, and “thins” out the Lost Boys when they can’t fit in the tree anymore.
But, like, it wasn’t a cautionary tale to tell you to listen to your parents, it’s a story about death and youth. Why can’t Peter grow up? One of the popular theories is that it’s because he’s dead. J.M. Barrie’s older brother died when Barrie was little and he dressed up in his brother’s clothes to please his mom. His mom - who was always distant, whose love Barrie craved like Peter craves a mom - started crying and said something like “At least my baby will never grow up” and that idea stuck with Barrie forever. Then, as an adult, it’s believed he never slept with his wife because Barrie was just a kid. He was Peter Pan. He was too innocent for that. He befriended the Llewelyn-Davies boys and based Peter Pan off of them and their games. (Fun fact: The boy Peter Pan was named after, Peter Llewelyn-Davies, threw himself under a train). There was also a bunch of stuff about Barrie being in love with The Llewlyn-Davies boys’ mother, but that’s not important here.
People think Peter’s dead because he literally cannot return home. He tried and the window was barred and his parents had replaced him with another baby. Why? Probably because they had lost Peter to the flu. Why does Peter come in through the window? Because of the joke “I once had a bird names Enza. I opened up the window and ‘influenza’.” Because lots of babies died back then form the flu. The Lost Boys are children who fell out of their prams. Odds are babies could not survive falling out of their prams. Peter is liked the pied piper ferrying the souls of young children to the neverland/afterlife. Barrie believed that all children were “gay and heartless” but he didn’t think that was a bad thing.
Also, Hook and his crew are not old lost boys trying to kill Peter. Hook was once a British gentlemen (hinted at to be associated with Charles II and attended Elton) and he is afraid of growing old. His biggest fear is growing old and dying - that is why his nemesis is the embodiment of eternal youth. That is why the crocodile that chases him swallowed a clock and ticks. That is why when Peter finally decided “It’s Hook of me this time” the crocodile has stopped ticking and Peter started (he’s trying to trick them into thinking he’s the croc). At that moment - Peter is time and time has ran out for Hook.
Also, it’s not so much that Peter is omnipotent. All kids basically are in the Neverland. Like, it states that the island looks different to every kid because it’s the land of their dreams and stuff. Also, the island legit freezes when Peter leaves and thaws when he comes back. He’s been there so long he’s not human anymore - but fey. (keep in mind being fey isn’t good, just chaotic neutral). Peter even secretes pixie dust now. The island is so fine tuned with him because he’s one of the only people that stay, that it caters to him. Most likely any child that stayed as long as he did would become omnipotent to an extent.
As for Tinker Bell, the above stated is true. Fairies are so tiny they can only have one emotion at a time - “Tink wasn’t all bad” - and they also have really short lifespans so, like, Tinker Bell isn’t even that important to Peter Pan. He forgets all about her and Hook by the time Wendy is grown up.And the orgies thing is because in the legends fey are known for their revelries.
And it wasn’t so much that Peter was a dick, he just doesn’t know when to stop. He’s a child. He doesn’t know right from wrong. He doesn’t know when to stop playing -cutting Hooks hand off was a game to him. He also has the memory of a child, so odds are he just forgot to teach kids how to stop flying or how to imagine food, etc. He is just carefree, like all children. Everything is a game to him, because he never learned anything else.
But like, no, Peter Pan is not a cautionary tale. Barrie loved his character and the story and brought up a lot of good things in it. He wrote Peter as an exaggeration of a cocky overconfident boy, but, like, Peter wasn’t afraid of death. It says “he felt scared, yet he felt only one shudder run through him when any other person would have felt scared up until death. With his blithe attitude towards death, he says, “To die will be an awfully big adventure”.” and with that Barrie is showing us both a naivety and bravery we possess as children but lose as adults and is basically telling us that we shouldn’t let that go. Like, the point is growing up is inevitable but you don’t have to lose everything.
And so yeah….I’m really passionate about Peter Pan.
Today, I have learned.
My life has been a lie
It’s like english class. but better
God I hope this is true.
i dropped my monster space condom for my magnum astro dong