harry potter, surprising literally everyone, retires from being an auror to make ceramics in a cottage in the hills. “i don’t know,” the boy who lived said in a statement. “becoming a potter just seemed right, you know?”
I’ve been on this site for how long and I am in shock it took this long for a potter joke
i draw and make pottery but ive never drawn somebody doing pottery so this was fun and i fully support this even if its just a joke lol
Since Tumblr never runs out of new ‘improvements’ to inflict on us, here’s a broad-blast Greasemonkey script that nukes any post on your dashboard by a blog you aren’t following. To use: install the Greasemonkey Firefox extension or the Tampermonkey Chrome extension, open link, click “install.”
Created to fix the latest BS where unmarked, unlabeled sponsored posts kept getting pinned to people’s dashboards, with nothing to distinguish them from regular posts except that they were random crap from blogs you’d never heard of. On the bright side, it should also whack the vast majority of posts from your saved searches that keep cropping up like dashboard herpes no matter how many times Tumblr has ‘helpfully’ shown them to you already. It won’t kill ads that aren’t actually Tumblr posts, but that’s what XKit and ad-blockers are for, right?
Only applies to the dashboard, so it won’t mess up search results or blogs in sidebar view. Unlike the Adblock-filter fix, it won’t block legit posts if (…when) Tumblr changes where the sponsored posts appear on the page.
Ping me if you run into any issues with it. I wrote it in one hour in a fit of pique and Tumblr randomly stopped doing the thing while I was testing it, so it may behave unpredictably in situations beyond basic dash-browsing.
At first the marchers came one by one, then in droves. By 7 P.M., on April 24, 1993, Dupont Circle was filled to bursting, spilling over like a dyke Times Square on New Year’s Eve. Young ones, old ones. Suburban dykes in their khakis, city dykes in their boots, softball dykes with the little rat tails in the back of their short-cut hair, shaved Sinéad heads like mine, the big hair of die-hard femmes in dresses, butches dressed to the nines. People who knew about the march before they got to D.C. brought their own banners and signs. The rest dragged each other. I was supposed to be in charge, but how can you manage a hurricane? A tsunami of twenty thousand dykes? You don’t. You just try to get out in front. The Avengers gathered the fire-eaters and drummers together and with the banner pushed our way to the head of the crowd. When that huge entity started moving, what a roar.
[…] I bellowed the few words I had to say into a bullhorn. Probably no one understood, though it didn’t much matter because all those dykes knew where we were (in front of the White House), and how many we were (enough to fill the streets of the entire city), and that together we were Dyke America taking over the capital.
After I got done shouting, a dozen of us Avengers stood on the plastic crates we’d toted from New York. The crowd around us grew quiet. It was getting dark by then. You could hear voices shouting in the background, others yelling, “I can’t see. What are they doing?” We dipped our torches into lighter fluid, lit them, and raised the flames in the air. Then, silhouetted against the familiar glowing white form, we brought them slowly toward our faces, which were lit up, too. Exhaling, as the heat approached our lips, fire entered our mouths and disappeared. The crowds hollered and screamed. And we did it again, while Marlene Colburn tried to get a chant going, “The fire will not consume us. We take it and make it our own.”
That moment, of dykes eating fire in front of the White House, endured as the image of the Avengers. Photographers sent out their photos. The Ministry of Propaganda shot off their press releases. Journalists from major venues beat down our doors for interviews, marveling at the turnout, at the drama and life compared to the same old, same old of the official March on Washington for Lesbian, Gay, and Bisexual Rights and Liberation with all the groups lined up and orderly. All the speeches predictably moving.
The message of the Dyke March was in our bodies. All twenty thousand of them there together in front of the White House, lit up with flame. We were disorderly, raucous, happy to be behind our own lesbian banner for a change. I can almost hear a couple of dyke readers murmuring as they turn the pages, “What’s the big deal? I don’t need anybody’s validation.” But if you don’t think it makes a difference, it’s because you don’t know. Maybe you’re dulled a little by seeing one or two lesbian faces on TV, in your local politics. One among thousands. Well, imagine what it’s like to suddenly be the majority. Not even the one in ten on the street or whatever it is. But the 100 percent. I suppose that would be my Lesbian Dream if I could describe it now. To be big enough to count. To take up space in the great brain of the country, for even ten minutes a day. To be free.
Kelly J. Cogswell describing the first national Dyke March in Washington, DC, in Eating Fire: My Life as a Lesbian Avenger (2014), Ch. 1, Pt. 8 (via enoughtohold)
i was at the zoo and just kind of vagueing out leaning on a rail and watching the duck pond and in the background a kid started yelling “he’s coming for you! he’s coming for you!!” and i thought it was some game she was playing with her family or something up until i felt a little hand grab my elbow and looked down to see this tiny wide-eyed child staring up at me with the world’s most serious expression and she said in a solemn voice
“he’s here for you”
and something reached out and grabbed my other hand
it turns out that a resident cockatoo has figured out that if it just waddles back and forth along the rail it can get the maximum amount of attention and headskritches with the minimum amount of flying and objectively this is very cute but at the same time this was very nearly the way that a grown adult died of a heart attack at the zoo
i love bird tumblr so much, where else could you go “hey look at this bird” and have a complete stranger not only know where it lives, but declare that it’s their nemesis
Why is it that every werewolf book is this weird testosterone fueled alpha male/female romance thing?
Like guys. Werewolves are family groups. They are basically big ol’ dog families. Your werewolf family wouldn’t be made up of alpha males fighting each other for dominance and subjugating females.
If there was a werewolf in your neighborhood, they’d be that family of 10 kids always roughhousing outside and their house is the one all the neighborhood kids go to hang out at because Mr. Werewolf and Mrs. Werewolf are the Cool Parents that their kids find really embarrassing.
“Wait…Emily? Aren’t she and her whole family…you know?”
“Don’t believe everything you’ve heard; worst thing that’s ever happened over there is the twins teething on visitors’ shoes.”
Here’s the thing, though.
While the notion of the “alpha wolf” is indeed misguided, being based on observations of wolves in captivity, the dominance thing does happen. And it’s not just the adult males; adult females do it too – but it’s only a thing when wolves who aren’t related by blood end up sharing a habitat.
So consider: by some happenstance, two unrelated werewolf families end up living across the street from one another. Of course they’re not going to start brawling in the streets – they’re civilised people, after all – but that urge to show the other pack who’s boss comes out in other ways, resulting in the two clans getting, like, weirdly competitive about everything.
you’re very clever! people tell you about your problems looking for your advisory. you go to extremes to solve problems, and either do everything traditionally, or come up with a whole new amazing way. you never go in between anything. people find you strange before actually meeting you, and you go out of your way to impress others. if you’re feminine aligned you’re probably wlw.
gentiles on this website: “The Old Testament God is cruel and vengeful!” actual Jews in my synagogue yesterday: “My favorite part of the reading is when it says the Torah is not in heaven so it’s too far to reach, it’s not across the sea so we can’t get it, but that it’s in our hearts… the idea of having that be so close, of being so close to something divine, that thrills me.” “And here, where it says ‘the Lord will delight in you as he did in your fathers’, that’s such a beautiful thing. You know, God is this all-powering being, and God delights in us.”
gentiles on this website: “You can’t be an atheist and religious!” actual Jews in my synagogue yesterday: “I’m just not buying any of this. I was born during the Holocaust and I could never wrap my mind around this omnipotent all-seeing God, and usually I’m a little moved by this, I try to be hopeful, but when I look around the world now, I just don’t buy it! If I really believed there was a God, I would resent him.” [still wears a prayer shawl and attends synagogue regularly]
gentiles on this website: “Religious people never question what they’re told, they just followed blindly!” my actual rabbi: “Sometimes the Torah can be like an older relative whom we love dearly, and who has a lot of wisdom to give, but who also says things that cause us pain, that we find offensive or wrong. And I think the wrong instinct would be to pretend we don’t hear what they’re saying, or to cut them out entirely, or to be guided by them into thinking and behaving in offensive ways. What we need to do is engage the Torah. We need to wrestle with it, and try to understand it, to figure out where it’s coming from and learn how we can progress from it, because the Torah is not unchanging. It belongs in each of our hearts, and it changes for us as we study it, as each generation challenges its old assumptions.”
just moving along like everyone else 