cchannette:

jwisser:

thepasta-nerada:

vvrathia:

the sexual tension when u and ur crush are online on fb at the same time and u just stare at their lil green dot

and suddenly you know what gatsby felt like

This is actually the most profound and appropriate literary allusion I’ve encountered so far this week.

oh my god

idle3re8u5:

ascandalinthepolicebox:

it’s been like six years and i’m still not over the last five minutes of dr. horrible

really? because I didn’t feelimage

oliviawhen:

What if sleeping beauty became a knight instead? 

A mini project I’ve been thinking about for awhile. You can find a backstory comic [here].

ronanczernys:

women in history meme ➝ 8 authors

We teach girls shame. “Close your legs. Cover yourself.” We make them feel as though being born female they’re already guilty of something. And so, girls grow up to be women who cannot say they have desire. They grow up to be women who silence themselves. They grow up to be women who cannot say what they truly think. And they grow up — and this is the worst thing we do to girls — they grow up to be women who have turned pretense into an art form. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie

frick-n-furter:

WE DID THE MASH

*KICKS THROUGH YOUR DOOR*

WE DID THE MONSTER MASH

*BACKFLIPS INTO YOUR LIVING ROOM*

THE MONSTER MASH

*BREAKS ALL OF YOUR WINDOWS*

IT WAS A GRAVEYARD SMASH

AU where Bucky gets a service dog.

It was Sam’s idea. Him being the most qualified on the areas of rehab for former soldiers after all. Although Bucky might be the worst case of PTSD anyone had ever come across. Bucky could handle himself just fine during the day. He had been hard wired to deal with anything and everything no matter the pressure. A lot of things would make him tense suddenly. Certain situations sent him into red alert for no reason. He grits his teeth. He handles it. He tells no one.

The nightmares however, were becoming a serious problem. Several months of sleep deprivation can wear down even the toughest of super soldiers, and Steve starts to take notice.

They visit a training center to meet several rehab dogs looking for partners. The slight tug of a smile on Bucky’s face as he meets them is worth the visit by itself. He chooses a huge black lab. It’s a big bear of an animal with a tail that could clear a coffee table in seconds, and yet it’s so gentle and patient.

They pick up an extra large dog bed on the way home, but one look in those liquid brown eyes and Bucky instantly lets the giant lab join him on the bed.
Maybe it’s knowing that someone with even sharper ears than him is in the room to let him know if danger is coming. Maybe it’s just the big warm body and that slow, deep, breathing that is so calming. Maybe it’s just having a friend nearby, but for the first time in a long time, Bucky finally sleeps all the way through the night.

stuffimgoingtohellfor:

checkthemargins:

It is my headcanon that there is a gun on the table in this scene because The Winter Soldier has been trained to arm any of his handlers who are not already armed while in his presence so that, if they so choose, they can put him down at any time.

Later, it takes Steve months to figure out why Bucky gives him a knife every time they’re in the same room.

 [via feanorinleatherpants]

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.)

huh

glowist:

pray-for-waves:

igadrobisz:

Grand Central, NYC 1929

Its not possible anymore to take such photograph, as the buildings outside block the sun rays.

I think about this at least once a day

oh my god

tatianamaslanies:

jon-snow:

"YOU CAN’T CANCEL QUIDDITCH"

"wood there’s people that are dying"

My AO3 My icon's artist