“Just tell me how to be different in a way that makes sense.”
he looks so young but he’s turning 21 on the 19th :( its so unfair
Everyone who reblogs this will get the title of a book to read based on their bio/posts.
Everyone. I mean it.
THIS IS THE BEST POST
I HAVE EVER SEEN
EVER
they really do mean everyone
i mean each to their own but i really don’t understand this perception of james as a cold and brooding pureblood. we’ve seen his capacity for cruelty, yes, but we’ve also seen him brandishing an invisible sword and proclaiming the gryffindor motto, scribbling the initials of his crush on an exam paper, messing up his hair to impress a girl, referring to lycanthropy as a “furry little problem” etc. i guess he’ll always be a dork to me. he had his moments, of course–the boy was spoiled, coddled, he lacked impulse control, didn’t think things through–but i’m just not down for this characterisation of him as sneering and cynical. i’m not. and here’s the main reason why. sirius. because sirius WAS that guy. sirius was the lip-curling, supercilious pureblood. sirius didn’t give a fuck. UNTIL JAMES. there were a lot of ways in which these two were one in the same, but this inexorable attitude is just not one of them. because as far as i can tell, sirius saw a light in james. saw something separate from his pernicious pureblood world. saw something worth saying no to slytherin. if james had been as cold as people paint him, how the fuck would he ever have dragged sirius out of that dark?
I was riding the NYC subway on Saturday. Pretty loud, it was a commuter train. We made a stop at 168th street.
Two police officers got on the train.
The entire atmosphere changed. Suddenly, everyone’s quiet. I notice that a Black guy sitting across from me, shifted seats away from the officers and deliberately turned his head away from them. His hands were shaking. Most of the people in the car nervously darted eyes at each other. A Hispanic woman widened her eyes at me when she saw that one of the police officers had his hand on his gun. We all held our breath.
Finally they got off at 59th street.
This is the reality of the relationship between NYC police and ethnic minorities. They see all of us as immediately suspicious. We don’t see them as enforcers of anything but fear.
You know what said the most? The only people who weren’t nervous were a white mother and child, who were happily singing and playing while the rest of us squirmed in discomfort.
The disparity in the experiences of New Yorkers riding the subway based on skin color and facial features amazes me.
Edmund first went to the White Witch because he felt like she understood him. He felt like she actually cared for him. He felt like she actually could be like a family to him.
He felt like this because he thought Peter hated him. He felt like this because he thought his own family didn’t understand him. He felt like this because he didn’t understand himself–that he was more than tearing others down to come higher.
He felt he had to pull others down because he fell in with the wrong group of kids at school. He was either bullied or told he would be ostracized if he didn’t join them. He wanted to be accepted.
After the White Witch turned on him, Edmund felt dread and guilt. If the Witch didn’t love him like a family, who could?
In those few days with her, he began to realize that his family didn’t hate him…he pushed them away. His family could understand him, if he could try understanding them. His family loved him, but like him, they just had a hard time showing it. He realized that he had traded something precious for something empty.
When Aslan approached him after his rescue, He confirmed all this. Edmund felt the weight of conviction heavy on his shoulders. He was wrong. He was a traitor. Now, everyone would hate him. Then, the Lion said five words, which Edmund took to heart and would never let go.
“Go, and sin no more.”
Edmund returned to his family, knowing he would still stumble and fall, as would they. However, this time, they would walk together. They would pick each other up, instead of kicking each other down.
When he saw the forgiveness in their eyes, he knew they were family again. He may have traded them away, but now they had accepted him again. This time he would meet them with open arms.
This was his family.
imaginesassemble
Anonymous asked:
Ani just got my hair cut and i have to actually go to something for school today DESTROY ME RN (plus i have company at my house like ugh)
You have been teaching Vision to cook today, and so far it’s been a disaster. He looked up recipes on the internet, and of course he had to stumble across Paula Dean. After he used all the butter in the kitchen, he ended up leaving the cookies in the oven for too long, the smell awakening you from where you had fallen asleep on the couch. (In hindsight, maybe it wasn’t that great of an idea to fall asleep on a synthetic human who had taken up cooking for the first time in his life). You immediately jolted out of your sleep, and ran to the oven, grabbing a potholder and yanked the cookies out of the oven. They were black as coal, and you could barely tell they were cookies. Vision frowns, as you pry his ‘food’ off the baking pan and into the trash.
“The recipe said that they were supposed to cook this long. Perhaps it was wrong.” He says, monotonously, already looking for another recipe to make.
“Well, Paula Dean is a nasty hoe. Don’t listen to a word she says.” You bump Vision aside with your hip, and decide to look for something that you could help him make. (You end up searching ‘easy desserts for kids’). And after deciding that all the kids recipes are too hard, you end up taking a brownie mix out of the pantry, and telling Vision to read you the instructions aloud.
“But shouldn’t I be helping, Ms. [last name]?” Vision asks, scanning over the brownie mix box. “You were the one who wanted to teach me how to cook, am I not correct?” You sigh in defeat. He got you there, but that wouldn’t stop you from watching his every move (especially when it came to setting timers).
“Fine.” You say, hopping up on the portion of the counter that the food didn’t occupy. “I’ll read the directions, as long as I get to lick the spoon.” You snatch the box from his hands, and take the mix out and set it on the counter.
“Of course, Ms. [last name].” He replies, opening the brownie mix and dumping it into the bowl.
“That’s Chef [last name] to you, Vis.” You retort, a smug smile on your face. You read aloud the measurements for everything, and Vision follows them perfectly. After he stirs all the mix together (and you take the spoon) you pour the mix into the pan, and put it in the oven. You make sure to set the timer this time, so the brownies actually might have a chance of surviving.
“I think you did a great job today!” You say, patting him on the back.
“Besides my original failure, I think this went well, also. Maybe next time we can try something a little more challenging.” He says, a smile creeping up on his face.
“About that…”
