Passionate about writing, art, creativity, humanity, nerdiness, charity, beauty, craziness, psychology,
circuses, uniqueness, family, and epic friendship.

 

Let me be clear: THIS generation didn’t make The Bomb and drop it. This generation didn’t invent, “I’m OK, you’re OK.” This generation is not responsible for smooth jazz or Muzak. THIS generation didn’t gut economy and leave those under 40 the fucking scraps. This generation didn’t make a job market for college graduates that requires unpaid labor followed by unemployment or retail work.
Don’t fucking bash my generation, we didn’t do, aren’t responsible for, and are picking up the pieces of our asshole parents.

Me angry as hell about a really lame comic strip expounding on why Generation Y (Get it, Generation Why?) being worthless. I’m not even going to link the strip because I want the author to die in obscurity. (via holy-mountaineering)

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.)

Gamora: I was adopted.

Loki: Me too!

Gamora: My "father" slew my parents in battle.

Loki: Wow, same here!

Gamora: He killed them right in front of me.

Loki: I was just an infant so I don't really...

Gamora: He changed me...

Loki: Mother was the one who changed me, actually...

Gamora: Tortured me...

Loki: Father could really raise his voice sometimes, hurt my ears and my feelings...

Gamora: Turned me into an assassin. Used me as a weapon.

Loki: ...

Gamora: I turned on him because I knew I finally had to stand up and do what's right.

Loki: Yes... look, this is getting awkward so...

foxnewsoficial:

Person: I’m a woman and I don’t need feminism
What she’s actually saying:
My life is perfectly okay and I don’t really care what other women go through
I think feminists are just whiny and can’t take jokes that perpetuate harmful stereotypes
I believe that people are just obsessed with political correctness
I am blind to the fact that there are still problems faced by women
I have forgotten that feminism gave women rights such as the right to vote
I have no idea that feminism is an egalitarian movement that fights for everyone’s rights regardless of sex, gender, sexuality, race, religion, nationality, and ethnicity but mostly focuses on women’s rights.
I am more concerned about semantics rather than human rights
I can’t distinguish between real feminists and shitty people who call themselves feminists
I still believe in the false notion that feminism is about hating men
I actually don’t understand what feminism is

foxnewsoficial:

Person: I’m a woman and I don’t need feminism

What she’s actually saying:

  • My life is perfectly okay and I don’t really care what other women go through
  • I think feminists are just whiny and can’t take jokes that perpetuate harmful stereotypes
  • I believe that people are just obsessed with political correctness
  • I am blind to the fact that there are still problems faced by women
  • I have forgotten that feminism gave women rights such as the right to vote
  • I have no idea that feminism is an egalitarian movement that fights for everyone’s rights regardless of sex, gender, sexuality, race, religion, nationality, and ethnicity but mostly focuses on women’s rights.
  • I am more concerned about semantics rather than human rights
  • I can’t distinguish between real feminists and shitty people who call themselves feminists
  • I still believe in the false notion that feminism is about hating men
  • I actually don’t understand what feminism is

mitsutsuki:

If you want to keep from crying, you'll just have to get stronger. 
Strong enough so that you won't be the one crying in the end.

Feminists: Hey. We'd like for women to be treated as equals.

Society: Oh sure. You want "equality" but then you expect men to open the door and pay for meals, is that it? That's not equality! That's special treatment!

Feminists: Um, no not really. You don't have to open the door and pay for our meals. We can do that ourselves.

Society: *gasp* What? You don't want men to open doors for you? Why do you hate nice people? No wonder chivalry is dead! You'd yell at a man for just being polite and opening the door for you?

Feminists: No! We're just saying you don't have to do it just because we're women!

Society: And while we're at it, how come you don't protect male victims of abuse and rape, huh?

Feminists: Actually, we think it's really terrible that men are forced to stay quiet about their abuse because they're worried about not being taken seriously. It's this Alpha Male myth that causes it. Men are abused and raped and they're not helped because men are supposed to be tough and able to handle it. This also goes for men not being able to express emotions.

Society: Oh, so you just want men to be a bunch of pansies then, huh? You hate men for wanting to be strong LIKE NATURE INTENDED THEM TO BE. You'll be sorry when you end up married to some weak, simpering fool who likes to talk about his "feelings"!

Society: Also, you can't have equal rights because women aren't aggressive enough to want higher pay and stuff.

Feminists: HOW ABOUT YOU GO FUCK YOURSELF AND THE HORSE YOU RODE IN ON?

Society: Jesus, calm down. No need to be so aggressive.