Feb. 8th, 2017

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….FUCK, now I’m imagining Grindelwald catching Newt alone and telling him how proud he is of him, how excellent a job he’s doing, he knows it’s a farce, of course, but really, Newton, you have a knack for it….

Newt feels so, so unclean and just, when they’re out of eyesight of any Dark wizards or witches, just collapses into Tina and Graves’ arms. 

(Also, wish me and my family luck. We’re going to an adoption event at Petco this weekend and are hoping to find a female puppy since our Yorkie, Bella, passed away. Fingers crossed!)
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hope your pets stay healthy in 2017

I almost didn’t blog this and felt guilty
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via http://ift.tt/2k3LyVS:‘Sanctuary City’ Mayors Vow to Defy Trump’s Immigration Order:





Martin J. Walsh, Boston: “To anyone who feels threatened today, or vulnerable, you are safe in Boston. We will do everything lawful in our powerful to protect you. If necessary, we will use City Hall itself to shelter and protect anyone who’s targeted unjustly. They can use my office, they can use any office in this building. They’ll be able to use this building as a safe space.”

Bill de Blasio, New York: “We’re going to defend all of our people regardless of where they come from, regardless of their immigration status.”

Rahm Emanuel, Chicago: “I want to be clear: We’re going to stay a sanctuary city. There is no stranger among us. Whether you’re from Poland or Pakistan, whether you’re from Ireland or India or Israel and whether you’re from Mexico or Moldova, where my grandfather came from, you are welcome in Chicago as you pursue the American dream.”

Ed Lee, San Francisco, with Sam Liccardo (San Jose) and Libby Schaaf (Oakland): “We will not give in to threats, or political grandstanding. Together, the Bay Area will stay true to our values of inclusiveness, compassion and equality, and united against any and all efforts to divide our residents, our cities, and our country.”

Joseph Curtatone of Somerville, MA: “People are questioning whether our leaders still desire to maintain a diverse and tolerant society. The message I want to send to those whose confidence has been shaken in this city is this: our city, Somerville, Massachusetts, will not waver. … Somerville will stand with you regardless of your race, creed, color, gender, nationality, legal status, religion, disability, gender identity, or sexual orientation. And Somerville, let me be clear, will remain a sanctuary city. We will not turn our back on our neighbors. Our diversity is our strength.”

Don’t forget Pittsburgh!!
Our mayor has also released a statement.


he even ended with a mr. rogers quote
“The world needs a sense of worth, and it will achieve it only by its people feeling that they are worthwhile.” – Mister Rogers (Pittsburgh, PA)
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Dear fanfic authors and fanartists, you’re doing fine.

I aspire to this level of reckless self-confidence
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(In relation to this post and this one)

Graves? Obscure and ridiculous magic? Nonsense. He wouldn’t. Never.

On the other hand, sometimes in the middle of a particularly pressing duel, he’ll do this little fancy bit of footwork, you know? A bit of a sidestep, a half turn, hip jutting out to the side and weight shifting onto his front foot, and the curse that should have flambéd him just kinda… fizzles out. When it’s his turn to fire the offensive spells, he could fire them the usual way but then again, he could go for a one-and-two lockstep and that extra flare to his wrist, and bam that’s an overpowered stunner right there that no one’s getting up from any time soon.

Not that Graves is doing anything unusual to power it up, of course not. Wand movements are an inherent part of magic. Ask anyone. Dancing? Fuck no, don’t be ridiculous. Graves doesn’t dance. Ever. Haven’t you noticed? He stalks around MACUSA’s annual ball messing with the wards or skulking near the food and if anyone tries to get him to take a turn on the floor he glares them into submission. No dancing.

(One time when he was out celebrating the end of a particularly hard case with his aurors he maybe had a bit too much to drink and maybe forgot the no dancing rule. And, given that we’re talking about maybes, he maybe got up on the table did something completely sinful with his hips that maybe transfigured every liquid in a two mile radius into single malt scotch and given that this included the water mains, the gas in the nomajs’ cars, the various medicines and fluids in the local hospital - yeah. That, uh, that wasn’t Graves’ finest moment.)

But if you’ve ever wandered by the Graves property in the evening, ever peered in through the lead-paned windows to the crackle of firelight inside, you might see Graves leading his mother through a lively foxtrot while his father stamps the time. The tiny space between the sofas and the coffee tables is taken up by a grand hall, white marble pillars, vaulted ceilings painted with triumphant angels and magic-wielding saints; Graves’ tartan pyjamas fade into an old fashioned suit and when he spins his mother her jewel-studded silk skirts flare around her feet. The fire is replaced by wide open doors, a balcony, the golden light of an Italian evening; his father’s stomping forms parts of the orchestra his mother remembers from her childhood. The notes hang in the air for long moments after the dance ends and the grandeur fades back into their cramped sitting room.

And if you’ve ever seen Graves while his aurors are in the hospital, you’ll know that he can’t keep still. He fidgets, foot tapping, fingers twitching; leave him alone for a minute and he’s likely to pace, rhythmically, with sharp turns and heels ringing against the floor. Tina swears he once moonwalked a circle around her to stop her bleeding out in the field but, as Graves pointed out, she’d lost a lot of blood and was probably hallucinating. She hadn’t lost a lot of blood when she caught him checking the perimeter of their temporary camp and sneaking in a touch of Irish line dancing to strengthen the wards. Graves freezes for a moment when he notices her watching and then continues in perfectly normal strides as though he’d never been doing anything else, and Tina rolls his eyes and lets him keep his secrets. 
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“Girls want a Superman, but they walk past a Clark Kent every day”

You fuckin CLOWNS think you’re a CLARK KENT? Not on my fuckin watch. You dumb, headass motherfuckers are barely a Guy Gardner and you think you’re a CLARK KENT? The amount of disrespect is unreal.

And here it is, a mad cunt openly recognizing she’s alone sand and angry

oh feminists, never change

But that’s the point, you moron. We aren’t alone. Clark Kent AKA fucking SUPERMAN married one of US. Clark Kent’s dream girl ::was:: a “nasty woman” *TM feminist who was angry about patriarchy and if she was real right now would be no doubt spending her days railing on Donald Trump and going to protests and he would be right there with her. The most handsome, wonderful man in fiction has been in love with kind of woman you hate for 80 years years because, unlike you, Clark Kent actually respects women and is a good person. Which is why he’s not alone. He’s happily married and has a child.

That’s why this post got 17,000 notes in 24 hours. Because men like you who literally call women “cunts” actually think you identify with Clark fucking Kent! That he’s your namesake. You honestly think that Clark Kent—the man who told Pulitzer Prize winner LOIS LANE that he would love her “until the end of time” would agree with you. You are getting laughed at by 17,000 women because you have the audacity to think you are Superman when you are actually the villain in this story. You are Lex Luthor. Meanwhile, women like us aren’t alone unless we choose to be. We are quite literally validated by SUPERMAN. Which is why he’s awesome and you are not.


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