Here is a side by side comparison of how The New York Times has profiled Michael Brown — an 18 year old black boy gunned down by police — and how they profiled Ted Bundy, one of the most prolific serial killers of all time.
Character assassination much.
I AM THROWING UP
SO WAS ANYONE ELSE WATCHING THE VMAS AND SAW THIS CAR AD
AND THEY HAD TO MAKE THE GIRL HAMSTERS SEXY
THE FUCKIN HAMSTERS NEEDED FUCKIN TITS AND CURVES
GODDAMN YOU CAN’T GET A BREAK AS A GIRL EVEN IF YOU’RE A FUCKING H A M S T E R you STILL GOTTA BE SKINNY AND HAVE BIG TITTIES
they gave the hamsters TITS they could have looked exactly like the dude ones and just had the hair and the eyelashes BUT THEY HAD TO MAKE THE HAMSTERS SEXY???
I FUCKIGN QUIT
Went to the state fair today and noticed that 4 out of 5 police I saw were wearing bulletproof vests.
The fifth was a woman.
cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat cat
this cat lives in a show horse barn which is why it walks and runs that way
THIS CAT THINKS ITS A HORSE
The video begins humorously as Anthony Carbajal, a photographer, dresses up in a neon bikini top and soaps up a car before being doused with ice water.
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 they’re 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 significant other 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.
(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)
yo but mermaid monster hybrids though
- vampire mermaids who prey on their own kind — when they get bitten, their scales fall off, their tails turn a slick and fleshy grey, a dorsal fin begins to sprout from their spine, and suddenly there’s six rows of teeth where once there was only one
- mermaid medusas who’ve got eels for hair and it’s not their gaze that can turn you to stone but their song
- fairy mermaids who’re born of spite and mischief — they’re small, the size of seahorses, and they speed through the currents causing mayhem and sometimes destruction
- were-mermaids who turn into huge, hulking great whites when the full moon filters through the deep waters, who cannot be restrained because what shackles can you find in the deep?, who leave blood and guts in their wake
Let’s go deeper
- Mermaid dryads tied to a whole kept forest, fins and hair perfectly camouflaged with their natural habitat. They drift serenely through their gardens until it is threatened, when the whole kelp forest turns on the attacker and drags it down to its death.
- Elementally aligned mermaids - air-aligned mermaids leap joyously from the water and glide on tough fins, punching through the surface of the water like tiny spears of silver-blue. Fire-aligned mermaids drawn to deep volcanic vents, blind and sickly-white with teeth that fit together like a sieve.
- Kraken mermaids.
Your tea-drinking experience is about to get a lot more mesmerizing with the upcoming Sorapot 2 by industrial designer Joey Roth. Part teapot, part sculpture, Sorapot 2 has a glass chamber that lets viewers watch the tea brew before their very eyes.