dickenchippers:

socialjusticekoolaid:

What they won’t show you on CNN tonight: Ferguson residents line a parade of roses down W Florissant, leading to where Mike Brown was taken from this world. #staywoke #powerful #insolidarity 

This is what gets me, man, about the whole thing. @Prisonculture on twitter said it the best (and I highly recommend you follow!) These protests in Ferguson aren’t about hate or anger, at their core. Sure, people are pissed off, but that’s not the main motivation…the main motivation is love. Love for their race, their community, their connection to each other. That’s why people focusing completely on the rage/anger aspect (cough all media cough Anonymous) are totally missing the mark here. Love lasts. Love changes shit way better than hate. This stuff makes me cry.


How do I measure success in life? By how I sleep at night.



micdotcom:

Vile photos show the crisis at the U.S.-Mexico border no one is talking about

With a spate of huge stories breaking in the past few weeks, you might not have caught the massive environmental crisis in northern Mexico that began earlier in August.

According to the Associated Press, local politicians claim that Grupo Mexico, a private mining company in Sonora with a troubling track record of hazardous waste violations in Mexico and the U.S., was slow to report a disastrous fault in its leaching ponds, which hold industrial acid used in the mining process. The spill released around 10 million gallons of acid into the Bacanuchi and Sonora Rivers.

20,000 people were without water | Follow micdotcom 


skullspeare:

blastortoise:

I never tell people off the bat that I’m gay. I wait. I wait until they say some homophobic shit and then I laugh and am like “you know I’m gay right?” And watch the look of terror on their face.

i like you



x09:

Wed. night, 20th Aug, Ferguson


indiefoxproductions:

allysmurfy:

You probably already know this but, don’t spray sun screen onto a fire



You probably already know this but, don’t spray sun screen onto a fire



hardly-rebel:



thelethifoldwitch:
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.

Fuck you okay. God damn it!

hardly-rebel:

thelethifoldwitch:

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.

Fuck you okay. God damn it!



,


1 day ago with 1 note
via:

writingnotebooks:


Ooooh, I LOVE this question!
Lots of people keep journals with systematic diary entries, but I understand that it doesn’t work for everyone.
Here are some cool/interesting/fun/motivational/productive things you can do that don’t necessarily include keeping a diary:
Turn a Moleskine (or other notebook) into a planner/organizer/PDA/productivity system
52 lists
30 Days of Lists
Answer "50 Questions That Will Free Your Mind"
Start a gratitude journal
Create a "life handbook"
Keep morning pages
Start a scrapbook
Use journal prompts to answer questions when you feel like it
Participate in the 7-week Life Cleanse
Keep these 9 lists updated — REALLY useful things to keep track of!
Take notes as you learn something new
Use a notebook to keep track of goal-setting and productivity: 60 Ways to Improve Your Life in 100 Days
Keep a recipe book
Keep a reading journal/movie journal/music journal/fashion journal
Start a quote book
Make a travel journal — use it to plan your trip/vacation, then glue in transportation ticket stubs, itineraries, maps, photographs, dinner receipts at fancy restaurants, and write about your adventures
Doodle in it
Write poetry
Cut out and glue pretty pictures
Create a bucket list journal and record each item as you complete it
Does that give you enough ideas to start with? :)
(Made rebloggable by request.)

writingnotebooks:

Ooooh, I LOVE this question!

Lots of people keep journals with systematic diary entries, but I understand that it doesn’t work for everyone.

Here are some cool/interesting/fun/motivational/productive things you can do that don’t necessarily include keeping a diary:

Does that give you enough ideas to start with? :)

(Made rebloggable by request.)



indecisive-bamma:


Let’s leave this here.

indecisive-bamma:

Let’s leave this here.



allysmurfy:

Erm. Thanks Anon, for that. You’ve won and I’m not posting that

Tbh it was really nice.



Erm. Thanks Anon, for that. You’ve won and I’m not posting that


1 day ago with 1 note
via:

suricattus:

gaymergirls:

aww nasa has a page for space technology terms you can use in science fiction

nerds

So if you screw it up in your story  and fans call you out, you got nobody to blame but yourself….