make another world

I think one of the reasons the Harry Potter Epilogue was so poorly received was because the audience was primarily made up of the Millennial generation.

We’ve walked with Harry, Ron and Hermione, through a world that we thought was great but slowly revealed itself to be the opposite. We unpeeled the layers of corruption within the government, we saw cruelty against minorities grow in the past decades, and had media attack us and had teachers tell us that we ‘must not tell lies’. We got angry and frustrated and, like Harry, Ron and Hermione, had to think of a way to fight back. And them winning? That would have been enough to give us hope and leave us satisfied.

But instead. There was skip scene. And suddenly they were all over 30 and happy with their 2.5 children.

And the Millennials were left flailing in the dust.

Because while we recognised and empathised with everything up to that point. But seeing the Golden Trio financially stable and content and married? That was not something our generation could recognise. Because we have no idea if we’re ever going to be able to reach that stage. Not with the world we’re living in right now.

Having Harry, Ron and Hermione stare off into the distance after the battle and wonder about what the future might be would have stuck with us. Hell, have them move into a shitty flat together and try and sort out their lives would have. Have them with screaming nightmares and failed relationships and trying to get jobs in a society that’s falling apart would have. Have them still trying to fix things in that society would have. Because we known Voldemort was just a symptom of the disease of prejudice the Wizarding World.

But don’t push us off with an 'all was well’. In a world about magic, JK Rowling finally broke our suspension of disbelief by having them all hit middle-class and middle-age contentment and expecting a fanbase of teenagers to accept it.

Also. Since when was 'don’t worry kids, you’re going to turn out just like your parents’ ever a happy ending? Does our generation even recognise marriage and money and jobs as the fulfillment of life anymore? Does our generation even recognise the Epilogue’s Golden Trio anymore?


Kdrama kisses

So lemme tell y'all a story:

I was in 10th grade honours English. I loved my teacher - she was super cool, but didn’t take any shit from anyone. During our time with her, she was going through a rough divorce.

Our teacher had developed this system: if we were good, she’d add “time” to our class, with each “time” being worth ten seconds, so we had to work hard. That meaning, she would give us a free period after we’d built up the exact time that a period extended to be. It was an earned privilege, and we always did our best to try and obtain it. Hell, playing puzzle games and reading was way more fun than a test or worksheet!

We were reading Animal Farm, a book my mom had given to me when I was ten bc she knew I loved to read and enjoyed anything that was thought-provoking. I’d read it then, and again later in my parochial middle school. Living in a big city, public schools aren’t well-funded, and I was lucky to have all my close family scrape together cash for a good education. Needless to say, I was rather familiar with the book.

Now back to the system! Our teacher had implemented a rule that every morning (she taught my first period class) we wood stand up and recite the commandments of animalism. We’d all try our hardest to do it perfectly, lest “time” be taken off our class. But one morning, she was… cold.

My classmates who’d recited before me were all told to sit down and stop reciting, because they were “wrong.” Knowing that, I was confused, as was everyone else. Yet, we all kept trying the same thing. She let the first few people finish. Then, she let people get partially through before she’d utter, “wrong” or something of the sort and deduct our hard-earned time.

It finally got to me; it was my turn. I stood up and started, and was immediately shut down by her. I was frustrated, to say the least. I replied after a second and told her that I was, indeed, right. She muttered for me to sit down. I refused, and by now she’d taken off twenty seconds. Everyone groaned, but I continued to disobey. Eventually, my classmates started telling me to just stop and it turned into yelling at me once I’d lost our hard-earned twenty minutes (meaning we had been halfway to a free period) as I continued to argue. Once we were in the negatives, people were literally yelling obscenities at me. They even yelled at her, blaming her divorce and period. Gross behaivour, mind you.

I didn’t stop.

The teacher said that she was going to call security and have me removed. I replied that it was a-okay with me to do so. I promptly walk out of the room and she followed up by telling me to wait in the hallway. I’d intended to walk to the office myself, but obliged figuring it was no matter to me.

I was in the hallway for about a minute before she rushed out and gently grabbed me by the shoulders. I was rightly confused. She gasped, and stammered out that she had never imagined it would happen. Why was she suddenly not being so ruthless? Why was she flabbergasted? Well, apparently what she’d “wanted” was for us to all fail. That it was a lesson, and she’d have given back the “time” she had removed. It was all about “knowing” what was coming, and how fascism meant that the rules could change at any time, without your knowledge and consent, but you could still be punished for it. She told me that she’d called security, and told them if they saw me in the hall during that call, to excuse me. Nobody had done that before. Apparently, throughout her decades of teaching, not one student had done that. They had all caved and sat down eventually.

You can be that person. In something that matters to us all. It’s not fun, but when has fighting for what’s right ever been easy?

  • People: I can't believe Damien's not a Slytherin!
  • Me: What? Have you ever met a LESS ambitious person? He could do literally anything he wanted to the world. He could start or end wars. He could restructure the government. He could end hunger and poverty. He could appoint himself king of everything. And what does he do? He skips lines and makes people tell him their secrets!

『You are fanatical like a demon.』

anonymous asked:

Could you point out the differences between a kangal, malakli and anatolian shepherd?

ah yes, the subtleties of the fawn-with-mask-turkish-livestock-dog-things!  ill use turkish line dogs so you can see really what the breed differences are traditionally, instead of western/euro examples of the breed which are different than middle eastern “true” shepherds

so, its like a dog thermometer but with aggression and size

turkish-line anatolian shepherd! not huge, on the lankier side of the spectrum while still being strong and sturdy. pretty much exclusively used as livestock dogs and dont do anything in fighting, although they can also be companions.

getting bigger now! kangals are a little more aggressive, a little wilder, per say. very territorial, suspicious, blah blah blah. used in fighting, but still also used as livestock dogs!

now we’ve got the big guns! malakli are the largest of the turkish shepherds, very aggressive animals and were actually bred from kangals (most say they were mixed with big mastiffs and other fighting dogs, though the exact origin to my understanding is unknown). they are pretty exclusively used for dog fights, dont do any livestock work, and tend to be the most mastiffy in appearance and often have the wrinkly faces.

now ill be totally honest, malakli and kangals often look very similar, and less “typey” examples of each breed are hard to tell apart, particularly since malakli have kangal roots anyway. likewise, a lot of kangals, especially the thinner ones, look a lot like anatolians because those breeds are also related. so really what im trying to say is that all the turkish breeds are kind of a hot mess of within themselves and they all sort of look similar and have very mixed purposes and are, quite honestly, probably still interbred with one another. the line where one ends is vague and malleable; landraces are not distinct “breeds” the way modern kennel club dogs are, and while the differences do definitely exist they are subtle and alien comparatively to how clubs view dogs. 


Malec Appreciation Week Day 3 - Favorite Malec Moment

I can’t help but love you
Even though I try not to
I can’t help but want you
I know that I’d die without you


mellivia in 5x15, pencils down
“i guarantee you there is no one on this planet as stubborn and as arrogant and as big a pain in the ass as mellie grant. and yet, somehow, i think she’d make a great president.”


THE MODERN OLYMPIANS (females & males)

There is something dangerous about a teenage goddess. These abnormal, peculiar youths. One possesses a skilled tongue, silky and delicious, yet so dangerous, curled in a pool of poison. Another only wakes at the howling of her huntresses and another could make the world quake, her wit as her only weapon. One is beautiful and indispensable, she feeds the world with lies and burning ashes. Another tie souls to each other, leaving them to rot and decay together until only one survives and another became so sad and overpriced that she became something no one could receive, no one deserved. These girls were queens, rulers amongst men and feral beings that slowly learned, by the centuries, how to tame their darkness.

ai ai ai, it always is super frustrating to me how washed out all the characters end up whenever I do desert sun lighting. but yaaaaay you finally get to see Chupacabra :y

Canyon Jive, a fun, lively, and colorful story about coyotes just fucking everything up. just constantly. pretty much everything that happens is because one of the three coyotes in the story royally screwed up.

agent-jaselin  asked:

Ford and/or Stan struggling with some of the changes they are going through or experiencing as they change?

This sort of turned into the lesson Harper and Lute give Ford and Stan on mermaid reproduction, instead of like, them dealing with living underwater or whatever.  But hey, Harper and Lute making the Stan twins feel awkward?  Sounds like a good time to me.

               “What do you mean, I can’t have beer?” Stan demanded.  His tail beat angrily, stirring up currents. Fiddleford sighed.

               “It’s an alcohol made from grains.  Merfolk can’t digest grains,” Fiddleford replied.  He, Stan, and Ford were in the MerGucket kitchen, going over some of the ways the new mermen’s lives would change.  

               “So I can’t have bread, either, then?” Stan asked.  Fiddleford shook his head.  “What the fuck, Fiddlesticks?”

               “I’ve lived my whole life without eatin’ bread, and I’m fine,” Fiddleford said defensively.  Ford, who had finally grown his gills, but was still stuck with scale-covered legs, frowned.

               “If merfolk can’t digest grains, then they can’t have whisky, either,” Ford said.  Stan stared at Ford.

               “Holy Moses, Sixer.  You’re right. Dammit, I can’t even get drunk anymore?”

               “That’s not true,” Fiddleford put in.  “We actually have a fam’ly recipe fer rum.”

               “Rum,” Stan repeated.  Fiddleford nodded.  “I don’t want rum, I want beer.”

               “What’s beer?” Lute asked, swimming into the room.  

               “Land folk kind of alcohol,” Fiddleford said.

               “Ah, okay.  So yer tellin’ ‘em ‘bout the diet changes, then.”

               “Yessir.  Ma started tellin’ ‘em, but had to leave fer somethin’.”  Fiddleford frowned at his younger brother.  “What do ya have there?”

               “Oh, this?” Lute said, holding up the posterboard.  “Some charts ‘n visual aides.”

               “For what?” Fiddleford asked warily.  Lute grinned.

               “Why, fer explainin’ merfolk reproduction to the new mermen!” Lute said. Fiddleford grimaced.  “I ain’t expectin’ ya to help.  Fer one thing, Harper already agreed.  Fer another, someone needs to run interference when Basstian gets here.”

               “Gosh dangit,” Fiddleford muttered.  “I forgot he’d be comin’ by.”

               “Wait, who’s Basstian, and why does Fiddleford need to run interference?” Ford asked.  

               “Basstian’s one of our older brothers,” Lute replied.  “He don’t have a fond opinion of humans.  Given what all happened with Amy.”  Lute shook his head.  “But ya don’t need to know the fam’ly drama quite yet.”

               “Dammit,” Stan muttered.  Another merman, similar in appearance to Fiddleford and Lute, entered the room.

               “Ready, Lute?” the merman asked.  Lute nodded.

               “Stan, Ford, this is Harper, the oldest son of Ma ‘n Pa.  He’ll be helpin’ with the explanation today,” Lute said. Fiddleford smiled weakly at Stan and Ford.

               “Good luck,” Fiddleford said.  He swam out of the room.  Lute set up the posterboard on the table.

               “All right, here’s the thing with merfolk reproduction,” Lute said. “It starts in the same manner human reproduction does.”

               “So, fucking,” Stan said.  Ford elbowed him.

               “Don’t be so crass,” Ford hissed.  He looked around.  “Is there anything I can use to take notes?”  Lute raised an eyebrow.

               “Uh, sure,” Lute said.  He looked at Harper.  “You can keep on explainin’ while I get Stanford somethin’ fer notetakin’.”

               “Got it,” Harper said with a nod.  He cleared his throat.  “Now, even though the act of conception is the same fer humans and merfolk, what happens after is different.  Uh, Stanford, ya don’t need to raise yer hand.”

               “I had a question,” Ford said.  Stan groaned.  “In the diagram, the, um, sexual activity is between two humans.  How does it work for merfolk?”

               “‘Sexual activity’?” Stan muttered.  Harper grinned.

               “There’s a reason we can turn into a human form.  Conception between two merfolk happens when they’ve got legs. Actually, merfolk can’t get a full human form ‘til puberty.  ‘Cause, evolutionarily speakin’, there’s no reason to.”  Ford nodded.


               “As I was sayin’, after conception, things work differently fer merfolk,” Harper continued.  He pointed to an image on the posterboard of a mermaid laying eggs.  “Somewhere’s between a month and two months after conception, the merfolk what is carryin’ the clutch lays the eggs in a special basket called a guppy basket.  That’s where the eggs will stay until they hatch, and where the guppies will sleep until they’re too big fer it.”  Lute swam into the room and handed Ford a notebook and pen.

               “Ah, thank you,” Ford said.  He busily scrawled down what Harper had said so far.

               “How does the mermaid know she’s pregnant?” Stan asked suddenly.  

               “Well, sometimes, they don’t know they’re carryin’ a clutch until they lay it.  But most of the time, they can tell because they’re feelin’ weird,” Lute said.  “The average clutch size is anywhere from 40 to 55.” Stan and Ford gaped.  “But that’s ‘cause there’s such a low hatchin’ rate,” Lute continued.  “Only ‘bout 20% of eggs in a clutch hatch.  And that’s with a merfolk-merfolk union.  In yer cases, clutches ‘ll be smaller.”

               “What?” Stan asked.  

               “Human-merfolk unions produce smaller clutches, ‘n smaller numbers of hatchin’ eggs,” Harper said.  “I’ve only got one clutchmate.  Basstian and Fidds don’t have clutchmates at all.  That’s rare fer merfolk.”  

               “But we’re not human anymore,” Ford said.  Harper shrugged.  His tail swished idly.

               “Fine, former human-merfolk unions.”

               “So, none of this is a seahorse type situation?” Stan asked.  Harper frowned.



               “Oh, ya mean with the male carryin’ the-” Lute started.  Stan nodded.  “No.  Our kind of merfolk don’t do that.”

               “Thank god,” Stan muttered.  He paused. “Wait, our kind?  There are actual seahorse merfolk out there?”

               “Hon, you’ve got a lot to learn,” Harper said.  Stan grimaced.


anonymous asked:

Hey 😃Maybe a Bellarke Fic were something dramatic has just happened and they go back to their room and suddenly everything is silent and calm and they clean each other's wounds? Maybe in cannonverse ? Your blog is amazing and you are a blessing thank you

Omg thank you :’) I’m sorry it took me forever to get to this but I hope you like it. Not TOTALLY sure if the title is 100% applicable but it’s super bellarkey anyway so. ALSO! This is 4x06 spec

Hello Love, My Invincible Friend


Fandom: The 100
Pairing: Bellarke
Rating: G, I guess
Words: 1,441

On her forehead there’s a slash from which blood trickles in a steady flow into Clarke’s eye. She feels a bruise blossoming across her cheekbone. Her head pounds in her temples and between her brows, a sharp ache that rears its ugly head with each second that passes.

But Clarke has jumped hundreds of feet into violent waters. She’s opened her own stitches and slit her skin to cut deals. She wrestled a damn jaguar and survived.

She’s dealt with worse.

Bellamy has too, but that doesn’t quell the fear bubbling in Clarke’s gut like a waking volcano when she looks at him now.

His jacket is thrown onto the bed, leaving him with only his t-shirt to veil the gash sliced along his bicep. Blood drips in a curtain down his arm, staining the fabric of his shirt and falling in thick drops to the floor. With his opposite hand, Bellamy tries rolling up his sleeve to get a better look at the damage. When he fumbles, frustrated, Clarke crosses the room to help him.

It’s the first time since Trikru attacked them on their way to Becca’s lab that Clarke has seen the injury, and when she does, she can’t help the shallow breath she sucks in. Bellamy tenses. Clarke knows the blood makes it look worse than it actually is, but even so, she can tell slapping a band aid on this one won’t fix it.

Over the lump in her throat, she says “I need to clean this,” and hurries to the attached bathroom to wet a cloth. “And stitch it.” She grabs her first aid kit from their traveling bag. “And probably amputate it.”


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