CLMR
rates of change;

maria. 22. grad student. microbiologist in training. fencer. unabashed nerd.
multi-fandom and multi-interest!

you might see art, science, literature here - maybe personal posts, fandom posts, etc

feel free to ask questions or say random things to me!

dftba

RAVENPUFF
{ wear }

see what i'm currently reading:
(currently-reading shelf)

Read the Printed Word!


1 2 3 4 5

Buzzfeed Results: Ripley

Jul 30th · 7 · ©

fuchsiacladbastard:

Plot twist: Lady Stoneheart, Arianne Martell, Val, and Jeyne Westerling take the iron throne and form a matriarchal democracy and d&d don’t know what to do

Jul 30th · 2870 · ©

thehat2:

meladoodle:

what do you mean a thesaurus isnt a dinosaur

image

Jul 30th · 390981 · © · tagged: dinosaurs so cutteeeee
Jul 30th · 222 · © · tagged: this was fun moonlight

lady-nyms:

WtNV - Opening + Closing Lines - Glow Cloud

Proverb: Men are from Mars; women are from Venus; Earth is a hallucination; podcasts are dreams.

Jul 30th · 587 · ©

also urgh bruised toe from lunging into the front of my shoe

can you not, please, feet?

Dear arms, feet, legs, fingers, wrists,

WHY DON’T YOU DO WHAT YOU KNOW YOU NEED TO DO??

Sincerely,

bruised fencer

thelethifoldwitch:

She remembers the first war, when Potter reappears with the cup and a corpse. She remembers the deaths, whole family branches disappearing in single fell swoops, she remembers the eerie green mark over house and house and house and —
Stop. Pause. Process. Do not dwell on what was done. Prepare in the present. Focus on the future.
She remembers the McKinnons when Amelia Bones is killed. That same, silent, certain execution of action, dead bodies left where the few remaining relations can realise what was done and who by. She remembers walking into the house, led by Alastor to see body after body after body and her ex-student curled so small against the wall, legs and arms at impossible angles, skin torn, her eyes —
Stop. Pause. Process. Don’t dwell. Prepare. Focus. 
She remembers the stories of Grindelwalds defeat at Dumbledore’s hands when the Daily Prophet doesn’t deny the Death Eaters attack on the Department of Mysteries. She remembers the disappearance of Peter, a mirror to the death of the much dearer Sirius. No parents, aunt hates him, godfather gone, what will become of Potter?
Stop. Pause. Process. Focus.
She remembers Lily and James when she sees Dumbledore dead at the hands of Death Eaters. She remembers the news, and how, even tempered with the good of Voldemorts supposed death, how everything crystalised around it.
Stop. Focus.
There is nothing she remembers when the Death Eaters come to attack. She has no comparison to help her cope. So she creates order from chaos, calls students to safety and battle stations, she stands in Dumbledore’s place at the fore of the Great Hall and prepares.
Piertotum Locomotor.
The battle is horrible, brutal, bloody. Even magic goes Berserk and rips people limb from limb, in a fearfully expressed spasm of terror. It is a battlefield, and her robes rip, her arms ache as she casts hex after curse after every other spell she can think to cast. Horrida bella, she thinks, recalling her fathers Virgil. Horrible war. Horrible war indeed.
Stop. Pause. Focus.
The war is over. Dark Lord Dead. Death Eaters damaged, dying, dead, or disappeared. They’ve won.
Her eyes scan the Great Hall, flicker over every dead - one Weasley twin, the elder Creevey boy, Tonks and Remus, and student after student after student, children all.
Pause. Focus.
This end of the war is different. He is dead. Their dead can be buried with less chance of a Death Eater interrupting the service. Voldemort’s Generals were dead or petrified or so injured that action against them was futile.
The sun was rising, illuminating the Great Hall and Minerva McGonagall paused, relaxed, refocussed.
The war was over.
Battle of Hogwarts by Taters7
(Originally posted here on my personal in response to a prompt.)

thelethifoldwitch:

She remembers the first war, when Potter reappears with the cup and a corpse. She remembers the deaths, whole family branches disappearing in single fell swoops, she remembers the eerie green mark over house and house and house and —

Stop. Pause. Process. Do not dwell on what was done. Prepare in the present. Focus on the future.

She remembers the McKinnons when Amelia Bones is killed. That same, silent, certain execution of action, dead bodies left where the few remaining relations can realise what was done and who by. She remembers walking into the house, led by Alastor to see body after body after body and her ex-student curled so small against the wall, legs and arms at impossible angles, skin torn, her eyes —

Stop. Pause. Process. Don’t dwell. Prepare. Focus. 

She remembers the stories of Grindelwalds defeat at Dumbledore’s hands when the Daily Prophet doesn’t deny the Death Eaters attack on the Department of Mysteries. She remembers the disappearance of Peter, a mirror to the death of the much dearer Sirius. No parents, aunt hates him, godfather gone, what will become of Potter?

Stop. Pause. Process. Focus.

She remembers Lily and James when she sees Dumbledore dead at the hands of Death Eaters. She remembers the news, and how, even tempered with the good of Voldemorts supposed death, how everything crystalised around it.

Stop. Focus.

There is nothing she remembers when the Death Eaters come to attack. She has no comparison to help her cope. So she creates order from chaos, calls students to safety and battle stations, she stands in Dumbledore’s place at the fore of the Great Hall and prepares.

Piertotum Locomotor.

The battle is horrible, brutal, bloody. Even magic goes Berserk and rips people limb from limb, in a fearfully expressed spasm of terror. It is a battlefield, and her robes rip, her arms ache as she casts hex after curse after every other spell she can think to cast. Horrida bella, she thinks, recalling her fathers Virgil. Horrible war. Horrible war indeed.

Stop. Pause. Focus.

The war is over. Dark Lord Dead. Death Eaters damaged, dying, dead, or disappeared. They’ve won.

Her eyes scan the Great Hall, flicker over every dead - one Weasley twin, the elder Creevey boy, Tonks and Remus, and student after student after student, children all.

Pause. Focus.

This end of the war is different. He is dead. Their dead can be buried with less chance of a Death Eater interrupting the service. Voldemort’s Generals were dead or petrified or so injured that action against them was futile.

The sun was rising, illuminating the Great Hall and Minerva McGonagall paused, relaxed, refocussed.

The war was over.

Battle of Hogwarts by Taters7

(Originally posted here on my personal in response to a prompt.)

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.
Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.
“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”
“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”
“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”
“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”
You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.
I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.
There are two wars.
There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.
A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.
She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.
There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.
There are two wars.
Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.
He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.
Come home, Gittel.
Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.
Δ ○ |Resist
“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.
There are two wars.
It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.
The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”
They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.
“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.
“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.
There are two wars.
The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.
“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.
“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.
She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.
“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”
Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.
There are two wars.
“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”
“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.
She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.
The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.
There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.
There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.
She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.
“Wait!”
(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

thepostmodernpottercompendium:

There are two wars.

Gittel is at Durmstrang when she hears. She’s in the corridor by the potion laboratories with Rozalija and Audra—the only other Lithuanian girls in her class—when her owl comes through the window and lands on her shoulder.

“Someone’s writing from home,” she tells them, unfolding the letter. “My brother, Elizer. He says—he says there are Germans in Šeduva, that they’re rounding up the Jewish families, forcing them to work—”

“Good,” Rozalija says. “My mother says the Jews are rotten. All they do is steal from us. It’s about time someone imposed some laws on them.”

“I am Jewish,” Gittel says, trying to keep her voice calm. “Or did you forget? When have I ever stolen from you?”

“Not you, specifically,” Audra says, a little embarrassed. “Your people.”

You must come home, Eliezer writes, you must use your magic to help us.

I have to stay at school, Gittel writes back.

There are two wars.

There are whispers in the corridors about Grindelwald and his followers torturing wix from non-magical families, and Gittel thinks of the look on her father’s face when an owl came to their window with a letter tied to its leg.

A boy grabs her arm as he walks past her, hisses in her ear. “Your blood is filthy.” Lets her go, pushes her against the wall.

She wonders how he knows. Maybe she is wearing her surprise on her sleeve, a star that lights up every time something magical turns her eye, every time something happens that she never knew was possible.

There’s a symbol scratched into the wall, a triangle with a circle inside it and a line through it. Gittel wonders why people need a picture for their cause.

There are two wars.

Another letter comes from Eliezer, his handwriting sprawled and urgent. Gittel has to squint to read it—she’s lost a little bit of her Yiddish with every year she spends away from home. He writes that in other towns, they’ve started herding the Jews out of the ghettos in trucks.

He does not know where they are taking them. He fears that Šeduva will be next.

Come home, Gittel.

Another boy grabs her arm in the corridor, but this one does not push her aside. He slips a piece of parchment in her pocket without a word. She doesn’t read it until she’s alone in her dormitory.

Δ ○ |
Resist

“I cannot,” she tells herself. Her education is more important than fighting in a war.

There are two wars.

It’s a Friday morning when the school is called to assembly in the courtyard by the front gates. “What do you suppose is so important that we had to leave our hex class?” Rozalija asks.

The Headmaster conjures a platform and raises himself above the crowd. “A school ought not take sides in a war,” he says. “But we can no longer allow Muggle-born students to attend our school.”

They are told that they have a week to gather their belongings and make their way home. There is nothing more for them at Durmstrang.

“It was only a matter of time,” Audra says.

“Perhaps it will be better this way,” Rozalija says.

There are two wars.

The day before Gittel is due to leave Durmstrang and return home, one of the boys in the courtyard is reading a Muggle newspaper.

“Where did you get that?” Gittel asks him.

“I’m not telling you, mudblood,” he says.

She hides behind a tree as he reads it aloud to his friends.

“… and they have taken all the Jews in Šiauliai…”

Her home county. It seems too easy, too sudden, but now Gittel has no home to return to.

There are two wars.

“We’ll miss you!” Audra says. “Do you think we’ll see you again?”

“I don’t think so,” Gittel says. She doesn’t think they’ll miss her, either.

She takes a train away from Durmstrang with the other Muggle-born students. There are first years there, crying in fear, and older students holding their hands and telling them that everything will be alright.

The train pulls into its destination and the former students flood out, looking for their families. Gittel has not heard from Eliezer in weeks.

There are two wars, but both wars are fought over the false worship of one blood over another. Both wars are forcing Gittel from her home, and she wants to fight in both. But she finds the newspapers at the station, she reads the headlines, and she loses hope that she’ll ever see her family again. She still has magic, though. She still has her wand, and there’s one war that still needs fighters.

There are tears in her eyes, but there is still a piece of parchment in her pocket. Resist.

She sees the boy who gave it to her leaving the station and she runs after him.

“Wait!”

(submitted by memordes. This piece is a poignant and touching look at how these two wars - magical and muggle - could have intersected.)

Jul 29th · 153 · © · tagged: wow harry potter

I accidentally got the “tall” pants.

This does not work when I am 5’2” and even “short” pants are on the long side…

thelethifoldwitch:

It started after the war.
Well.
Thats a lie.
It started before, when a housemate first called her “Looney”. Some might even trace it back further to the first injustices in society, but Luna was happy to say it started after the war and so what she said stood.
There were many after the war who demanded change.
The Lupin Laws did a lot to integrate werewolves into society, to end the perception of them as the monsters they were only once a month.
The Dobby’s Deed Foundation, set up by Harry Potter, worked with S.P.E.W. to protect house elves and to, where necessary, negotiate their freedom from untenable circumstances. House elves liked to work after all. They did not like to be punished.
Luna worked with Neville to rebuild Hogwarts, and, with him, made some changes during the process.
She knew, for example, that Ernie Macmillan had been hit by a back-breaking curse and barely survived but fully intended to return to redo his final year, use of his legs or no. Luna built ramps and slides into the stairs where she could, and invented a chute one could say ones destination into, enter and be flown through the school to ones destination.
Lavender was blind in her left eye now, Luna knew, so she put up large-lettered signs to direct students. After the first week of term with all students arriving on time the Professors wondered why it’d ever been any other way.
Dennis Creevey still froze up when he saw blue spells so Luna set her whole house to finding alternative spells to use, and a way of blocking such spells from Dennis’ sight
Hermione came to her and Neville to talk about muggle-born students with issues integrating into the magical world and students with trouble learning. Neville was the one who suggested an introductory course to the wixen world, and made a muttered comment about terrible teachers and terrible teaching and something which sounded like Snape.
Luna and Hermione asked Cho and Parvati and Padma if they’d help make a study group for students of all years, and ask Justin Finch-Fletchly and Daphne Greengrass to organise muggle-raised students and wixen-raised students into buddy-pairs so they could each learn about one another’s world.
It wasn’t much, at the time, and Luna planned to do much more. But until then, she thought, changing Hogwarts was as good a start as any.
(Image Source)
(Originally posted here on my personal. As said there I am an able-bodied person so if anything here is at all problematic in any way shape or form tell me and I will fix it as soon as possible.)

thelethifoldwitch:

It started after the war.

Well.

Thats a lie.

It started before, when a housemate first called her “Looney”. Some might even trace it back further to the first injustices in society, but Luna was happy to say it started after the war and so what she said stood.

There were many after the war who demanded change.

The Lupin Laws did a lot to integrate werewolves into society, to end the perception of them as the monsters they were only once a month.

The Dobby’s Deed Foundation, set up by Harry Potter, worked with S.P.E.W. to protect house elves and to, where necessary, negotiate their freedom from untenable circumstances. House elves liked to work after all. They did not like to be punished.

Luna worked with Neville to rebuild Hogwarts, and, with him, made some changes during the process.

She knew, for example, that Ernie Macmillan had been hit by a back-breaking curse and barely survived but fully intended to return to redo his final year, use of his legs or no. Luna built ramps and slides into the stairs where she could, and invented a chute one could say ones destination into, enter and be flown through the school to ones destination.

Lavender was blind in her left eye now, Luna knew, so she put up large-lettered signs to direct students. After the first week of term with all students arriving on time the Professors wondered why it’d ever been any other way.

Dennis Creevey still froze up when he saw blue spells so Luna set her whole house to finding alternative spells to use, and a way of blocking such spells from Dennis’ sight

Hermione came to her and Neville to talk about muggle-born students with issues integrating into the magical world and students with trouble learning. Neville was the one who suggested an introductory course to the wixen world, and made a muttered comment about terrible teachers and terrible teaching and something which sounded like Snape.

Luna and Hermione asked Cho and Parvati and Padma if they’d help make a study group for students of all years, and ask Justin Finch-Fletchly and Daphne Greengrass to organise muggle-raised students and wixen-raised students into buddy-pairs so they could each learn about one another’s world.

It wasn’t much, at the time, and Luna planned to do much more. But until then, she thought, changing Hogwarts was as good a start as any.

(Image Source)

(Originally posted here on my personal. As said there I am an able-bodied person so if anything here is at all problematic in any way shape or form tell me and I will fix it as soon as possible.)

I work better alone.

Phil Noto’s Black Widow is amazing. Actually, Phil Noto’s art is amazing. (just look at that light and color and ahhhh…)

thedailyballet:

Claudio Cangialosi in William Forsythe’s The Second Detail.
Photo (c) Costin Radu.

thedailyballet:

Claudio Cangialosi in William Forsythe’s The Second Detail.

Photo (c) Costin Radu.

Jul 29th · 339 · ©

shakespeareandpunk:

might i also suggest Matthew Bourne’s Dorian Gray ballet 

I was going to sleep… but then ballet…

I miss it way too much.