“they Couldn’t Make The Maximoffs Jewish Because They Can’t Make Any Reference To Magneto”

Friendly reminder that this is technically my main blog but I am actually using and reblogging on my blog @r-we-taire-yet so I'll follow you on this blog and like your posts on this blog and then reblog stuff on there!

Sufganiyot! Peach and Nutella gluten free ones made in an air fryer!

Ehhh?

Do you ever just wanna cry because the cutest greatest girl, the first you've had crush in life, is straight? ;-;

((Sharing here so people actually see.))

A Little Story That Popped Into My Brain While Playing Fruit Ninja

Trigger Warning: Stab. Wound. Fighting.

Haruka- A young apprentice who just started learning how to fight. She’s strong willed and won’t back down until she succeeds with her task.

Isamu- A former apprentice of sensei who fell into the dark path. For one reason or another, she can’t say no, especially when it comes to fighting. She is the most skilled because of this.

Kanta- A fire blooded apprentice who has been following the light path for years. He was sensei’s only other apprentice when Isamu was around, and he feels deeply about her descent.

Ami- A bright and friendly apprentice who joined soon after Isamu’s descent. She and Kanta are very close because of this. She adopted Haruka right away, treating her like a little sister.

———-

“Again!” Haruka shouted, not taking her eyes off her opponent.

“You’re so weak! You’re going to die, Haruka. You don’t have a chance!” Isamu laughed.

Haruka wouldn’t back down despite that truth. She had only recently started her training. They had watched her slowly grow in her skills. Haruka was relentless, she refused to stop until she won, no matter how many duels she lost to get there. That wasn’t a problem when it was Kanta, Ami, or their sensei, but Isamu? Isamu wouldn’t give her a break. Isamu was going to allow Haruka to continue challenging her until she got bored and ended it, permanently. Everyone knew how this would end.

Isamu grinned, lashing out expertly with her katana. Haruka blocked frantically, automatically on the defence. The fight was over before it began, Isamu disarming her easily.

“Again!” Haruka cried, scrambling for her weapon. She, for the briefest moment, looked up at her fellow students and friends. The two pupils stared helplessly from the balcony looking over the fight. There was nothing they could do now. Haruka had challenged Isamu for them, sacrificed herself for them, and they could do nothing to stop the duel, not from up there.

Quickly, Haruka was disarmed, this time cut badly on the arm. She frantically reached for her weapon, holding it up in defense.

“Again!” she shouted, trying to be more aggressive. Her attempt only landed her empty handed and a cut on her other arm.

Kanta and Ami clutched the railing, shouting support and suggestions to their young friend. The duo had been training for years. They were highly experienced, talented fighters, but they didn’t stand a chance against Isamu. She had been badly beating them before Haruka, who they had told to stay back, put a stop to it by calling for a one on one duel.

“AGAIN!” Haruka cried, refusing to relent.

It was clear in Isamu’s expression that she’d had enough. She abruptly disarmed Haruka and stabbed her in the chest.

Haruka gasped, still for a moment in shock and looked up at her screaming friends in the balcony as she fell to the ground. The tournament hall dispersed, allowing Kanta and Ami to race to their friend. Isamu cleaned off her blade and began walking off.

“Shhhhh, shhhhh, Haruka, it’s okay, shhshsh it’s okay,” Ami soothed, trying to comfort Haruka. The young girl gasped for breath, deeply pained by the wound.

“ISAMU!” Kanta shouted, holding up his katana.

She turned around lazily. “She didn’t give me a choice. She wouldn’t stop. You know I couldn’t say no.” And with that she left, Haruka gasping for life as she walked away.

I have never heard of Norman Rockwell. I don’t understand anything about art. But this picture shook me and caused a storm of emotions. It is called Breaking Home Ties, 1954

The boy is going to a Uni and wearing his best outfit; the Uni sticker is on his luggage, even his tie and his socks are the colours of the sticker. He is excited and impatient. The father - obviously a farmer, is sitting at the worn farm truck with a flag and a storm lamp, because their place is so small the train won’t normally stop there, so the father will need to “catch” the train and signal with the light and the flag for it to stop.

His son will never come back to the farm.  

I think I understand why this picture sold at 15,4 million dollars in 2006. 

@zaxawesome is the guy getting beaten, I'm that girl.

Walter Molino, 1958

Shoes a-flame with the modernity of the 1920s, gold licking the red leather in curlicues but what was the frock of choice to go with? Drexel University.

My dearest Granddaughter.

Na, “Annwyl Wyres”. You’ve asked me to write what I remember for your school project, So I suppose you’ll want me to do it in Welsh.

Cariad bach, Sai'n gwybod beth i ‘weud wrthi ti. Silence is a hard habit to break.

Right from day one, this wasn’t something we talked about. It was a non-subject. Mae'n rhyfedd pan ti'n meddwl am y peth; While the whole world and his wife were talking about us, With their editorials And their news items and so on A tra bod y beirdd yn sgwennu cerddi amdanyn ni   A'r holl eiriau'n golchi droson ni

O'n ni'n dweud dim.

We said nothing.

So how much should you know? It’s part of your history, Our family’s history. But I can’t share my guilt with you For making the child I lost go to school that morning (I wish I’d never shared that with your Bampy even) And that I felt guilty for having A child that lived.

But I wouldn’t have had you otherwise, would I?

None of this makes sense.

There are pictures that you ought to see from afterwards. The photographer came over from America And he was here for weeks after the disaster - Rapoport his name was. ‘Sgwyla di ar ei luniau fe. He took one of the first baby born afterwards The first wedding The first smiles And how many hundreds have there been since then, thank God? Those pictures show us carrying on Because we had to.

But there are things that those photos can’t show.

Like candles in pockets. Your aunty was afraid of the dark. I would light a candle for her in the cemetary - Lots did. It was like a second home to us for a long time afterwards. I would take extra candles in my coat pocket In case somebody else’s Had burnt down to nothing.

These are things I will carry with me ‘til I die.

But Do you have a right to them?

Because it was so terrible, Should you feel like so many before you That it’s your duty To comment To sympathise To identify?

Elli di ddim, cariad bach.

But I don’t want you to forget, either.

I can only give your aunty flowers On be ranna i beth alla i ‘da di. 

I’ll give you all the memories that I can.

- Llythyr Mam-gu, by the bard Ifor ap Glyn.

Written in memory of the Aberfan Disaster, 50 years ago.

That moment when you're at a Japanese baffet and the one girl who works there asks if you need more Pepsi in the cutest voice and you go, wow, I'm not straight. She said it so quiet and like "Pepi-si?" And her eye makeup was cute and her face was cute and she just ughdkdkfsnvd small cute. V nice.

Passover

This potsherd from 475 BC was found on the island of Elephantine, close to the border between Egypt and Nubia, which was home to a small, close-knit Jewish community at the time.It reads; “To Hoshaya. Greetings! Take care of the children until Ahutab gets there. Don’t trust anyone else with them! If the flour for your bread has been ground, make a small portion of dough to last until their mother gets there. Let me know when you will be celebrating Pascha (Passover). Tell me how the baby is doing!”Besides a wonderfully evocative peek inside a daily conversation, the sherd contains one of the earliest non-biblical references to #Passover. Passover commemorates the liberation of the ancient Israelites from Egypt and is observed annually by Jewish people all over the world. This year, Passover begins tonight and ends on Thursday 16 April. You can find out more about this sherd and many other fascinating objects relating to Judaism in our collection in ‘The Jewish Journey’ by Rebecca Abrams, available online.