Unleash the waistcoat within

SIMON: Post-collegiate straight jewboy and immigrant to NYC looking to FIND HIS FORTUNE, or just a real job thanks. Kind of a dandy. Likes writing, gaming, literature, Homestuck, men's fashion, liberal politics, and a variety of Magical Picture Box shows.

Now comes with an AO3 account! Check it out here: http://archiveofourown.org/users/whisperwhisk
MAGE OF LIFE
COOL PEOPLE LISTED BELOW

justice4mikebrown:

(via ultranos)

solarbird:

kiango:

kittydoom:

salon:

We dare you to say we don’t live in a rape culture.

Amazingly, not The Onion:

“[W]e now have young men telling Bloomberg News that they basically view their female peers as rape bombs just waiting to explode and ruin their lives.”

I literally was getting ready to reblog this with a caption about how On Point “The Onion” has been lately but I get this horror instead

Bloomberg News took it down, but here’s an echo on Business Week.

And here again is the trouble with how we talk about sex, consent and sexual violence in the United States. There are so many ways to flirt and have really enjoyable casual sex without being predatory, but we never talk about them. The importance of listening to the person you’re interested in having sex with and being alert to non-verbal cues certainly isn’t being taught in schools, and this kind of thing generally isn’t modeled in pop culture. So we have a vacuum about relationships and healthy sexuality.”

mallowninja:

thisshitfunny:

thatdudeemu:

queerasfuck88:

Jon Stewart Goes After Fox in Powerful Ferguson Monologue

I been waiting for the daily show to come back so they could cover this

Jon rip them boys a new asshole 

"You’re tired of hearing it? Imagine how fucking exhausting it is living it."

hey i’ve found my new response if anyone i know gets mad at me for talking about the ferguson bullshit

(via microrockets)

fuckyeahmelancholy:

moon-crater:

drunktrophywife:

I don’t like this

I need it.

That’s gonna try to kill Spider-Man, I just know it.

(via professorspork)

  • Carlos: I do know two things. I love you.
  • Cecil: I love you too. What's the other thing?
  • Carlos: You just said it.

youngpeopleofcolorinc:

thepoliticalfreakshow:

Coroner: Black Man Shot Himself in Chest With Hands Cuffed Behind Back

According to a coroner’s report obtained by NBC News, Victor White, a 22-year-old black man, committed suicide in the back of a police car by shooting himself in the chest while his hands were cuffed behind his back. The report contradicts the official police account, which said White shot himself in the back.

White died March 3rd in New Iberia, Louisiana, after a night spent hanging out with friends. He was stopped by police along with an acquaintance, Isaiah Lewis, on the way back from buying cigars at a local gas station. Cops found a small amount of pot on White during a pat-down, then ran the two men’s names through a database and called for backup. A second search yielded a small amount of cocaine, and White was arrested and placed into an Iberia Parrish police cruiser, where he allegedly produced a .25 caliber semi-automatic handgun and shot himself in the right side of the chest.

The story and the new coroner’s report raise several questions about the incident. One friend said White joked about having a gun earlier that night, but no one is on record as having seen one. If he did have a gun, why didn’t police find it during one of the two searches? How was he able to reach around and shoot himself in the chest with his hands cuffed behind his back? (The coroner’s report said it was possible due to White’s “body habitus.”) Why did police initially claim he shot himself in the back? Why didn’t the coroner find the gunpowder stippling common to close-range shots on White’s wound? White had a laceration on his face at the time of his death that Lewis said wasn’t there the last time two men saw each other, before White got into the cruiser. Where did it come from?

Louisiana State Police opened a still-pending investigation hours after White’s death, NBC reports, but White’s father, a Baptist minister, has doubts about what it will find. “You can’t make me understand,” Rev. Victor White II told NBC. “You can’t make me understand how my son took his left hand, when he was handcuffed behind the back, and shot himself. I don’t believe a thing they’re saying at this point.”

Because the investigation is pending, many pertinent details—including dash cam footage and the names of the officers present during White’s death—have not been released. The state police did release a preliminary incident report stating White had been shot with a .25 caliber handgun—not the .45 caliber gun Iberia police officers are issued—but that police hand’t found it during their searches.

[Image via NBC News]

Source: Andy Cush for Gawker

Let’s go people. Make this viral. The world needs to know it’s not Just Michael Brown. Cigars or no cigars. Weed or no weed. State sanctioned murder of brown people at the hands of law enforcement/military is one of the most heinous crimes of this century and It. Must. Stop.

(via longroadstonowhere)

thelethifoldwitch:

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 s/he’s 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 boy/girlfriend 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.

(Image source.)

(From the mind of the wonderful lavenderpatil, a keen look at how students might be after war.)

(via counterpunches)

neversoma:

*Flips through yachting magazine menacingly*