cognitivedissonance:

Tonight in Ferguson, Mo. Even CNN is calling out police brutality.

We are watching history unfold. Do not stand down. Spread the word.

No justice, no peace.

I am unbelievably done right now…

I’ve just had a really shitty day.

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daisy1355:

gonesherlocking:

ibroketheuniverse:

sleepcastiel:

hazelshaw:

Celebrities doing the ALS ice bucket challenge

wow im really happy that all of these wealthy people would prefer doing this than donating money to a charity that will save lives

Okay, I’m a stop you right there. Yes, the basis of the challenge is dump water on your head or donate. But what this challenge is meant to do is RAISE AWARENESS. People who see this end up wondering and then learning what ALS is. And who better to spread the message than celebrities?

People who do the challenge are also still asked to make a donation, and to pass on the challenge. This is good. These celebrities are raising awareness, spreading the message, and probably still donating. But hey, they’re horrible people because they participated in this right? It would ‘ve been better if they wrote a check and never told anyone about it at all.

Yeah, haven’t they raised like $13 million or something??

I think a lot of them are also donating. And I think its a sweet way not to flaunt their wealth - its nice to see them just like everyone else!

mukuroikusaba:

showing your friend something you know they would flip out over and they say “I’ve already seen it”

no

i was supposed to be the hero

twinperfect:

You all asked and we all delivered! Here’s what we think of Kojima’s Silent Hills announcement. We cover the teaser’s release, the demo itself, Del Toro’s involvement, and the possible influence of past Silent Hill games.

So really solid concerns from people who’s opinion on Silent Hill I respect a lot.

It’s a bit early to really say this is looking bad or good for me. I see a lot of people are stoked about it simply because it’s Hideo Kojima behind the helm of the game, and that’s totally valid. I’m excited about Silent Hills for that reason too. But more than that, for me, it’s about trusting that Kojima will respect what Silent Hill is and what it should comprise of in order to bring the series back to the quality of the Team Silent titles.

I’m hoping they aren’t going down the path of multiple dimensions as that’s a no-no. If you watch TwinPerfect’s “The Real Silent Hill Experience” you’ll find that there are no multiple dimensions in Silent Hill. It’s just the real world being manipulated into something else, usually by something demon related. The plural of “Silent Hills” would suggest that it might run down those multiple lanes but perhaps it may just relate to the dopplegangers plot point mentioned.

As for Norman Reedus’ involvement…well…personally I don’t like the guy. I’m not too much of a fan of his acting, particularly in The Walking Dead, so him possibly being the protagonist doesn’t really do anything for me. It won’t detract from my enjoyment, but it’s not a plus.

Del Toro’s involvement excites me a little. I was really interested in the project he had going a couple years back called “Insanity” and looked really good. I’m curious to see what he brings to the series in terms of monsters and general horror.

All in all, Silent Hills has me excited at the least. I hope we see more of it soon, but I’m not expecting to see something substantial until maybe GDC next year. It’s possible something might pop up at the VGAs but I doubt it.

queer-terror:

sometimes it’s really hard not to hate this country.

this is extremely relevant rn

katwaterflame:

ppyajunebug:

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.
(Image source.)
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass lavenderpatil because everyone should read it

This is some powerfully deep stuff…. This should be book eight.

katwaterflame:

ppyajunebug:

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.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass lavenderpatil because everyone should read it

This is some powerfully deep stuff…. This should be book eight.

creatureboy:

letthebeatdropx33:

sckrewedup:

We are here to serve & protect

Bullshit.

Someone I’m related said this:

"I was a policeman before this job, and I moved in to this [other line of work] because I got used to being able to hit something if it annoyed me."