Just My Thoughts

And believe it or not, it gets better. Rosa’s also gives out sweatshirts to the homeless (or sells them to the general public) that has information on local soup kitchens and even computer training in the area, on an insert sewn inside the sweatshirt.

(Details)

Takes place after helping the twerps take down Team Rocket from the inside!

“I have to teach the book.” He said. “You have to read it and I have to give a test on it to make sure you know what’s in it.”

“Okay,” we said. “This is what school is.”

He also said “but I don’t have any rules that say I can’t teach you more than one book.”

“But this isn’t English class,” we complained.

“No it’s not,” he replied as he handed out photocopies of a different book I do not have the name of. I would learn later that he paid for the photocopies himself, because he could not afford to buy a set of books for us, and the school wouldn’t help. We had to turn in the photocopies at the end of the lesson. He’d done this for years, and the packets of paper were sets of folders containing well read photocopies and some pages were crumbly and he’d replace whole packets or pages in a single packet at a time. He had a whole cabinet full of these folders, broke down by chapter, out of a different book. Some of the packets included photocopies from more than one book, some news articles, a couple academic papers. We were not always required to read those, but we were promised extra credit if we did.

“Write me an essay,” he’d say.

“Ugh,” we groaned. “What about?”

“The differences between what’s in the packet and what’s in your books.”

And we would. He’d accept full essays and he’d accept a simple list of differences, but that was always an assignment. Point out the differences.

“Which fact do you believe?” He would ask us.

“The packet,” we’d answer.

“Why?” He’d ask.

“Because they don’t want us to have them,” we’d answer.

“Good,” he’s smile. “With this chapter, I’m not going to give you a packet. I want you to make your own packet based on the information in this chapter in your government supplied textbook.”

“Ugh,” we groaned.

But we learned how to do some simple research, and we were told that Wikipedia could be edited by anyone, but everyone that edited had to present sources. We had to come up with twenty pages worth of extra information on the chapter in our textbook. The textbook’s chapter was something like ten pages long. We had to do our essay/lists on what was left out/added/changed. It was a good two week long project.

“Why am I making you do this?”

“Because it’s busy work,” someone answered.

He frowned. “Because one day you’ll be presented something as fact and you’ll have to decide if it is fact or not.”

“How do we know the difference?”

“Maybe one day one of you will grow up and be able to give a simple answer to that question because I don’t have that answer.”

“You just didn’t want to do the work to make a packet yourself, huh?”

He smiled. “That is an advantage to having minions.”

she literally stood up to lord voldemort and lied that harry potter was dead and i don’t know about you but if i were an evil ruler i would probably want to triple-check that my nemesis was, you know, actually deceased

voldemort had actual doubts about snape

narcissa malfoy understood those rules, and she layered her mind with them. 

look pretty. wear the most expensive robes. grandmother’s pearls. curl your hair every night. think only of clothes and dimples and the way your hair falls when you flutters you eyelashes at a boy. 

say nothing. don’t speak when mother and father are screaming at each other. demurely look down as another boy asks you to dance. retreat into the reading room when your family friends, known death eaters and criminals, pay your parents a visit and speak in hushed voices over tea. think of pretty things. 

marry well. marry into a family of your parents’ friends. bear children. wear pearls and look demure and think of nothing but pretty, pretty things, like the way your husband’s hair gleams in candlelight. 

masters must learn the rules before they can break them. narcissa learned the rules so well that they wrapped around her; sank into her skin and her mind. they protect her from enemies. they conceal the quick, strategic plots ticking her brain into gear every moment of every day. they hide the calculation of each smile, each movement. 

narcissa is so good, so perfect, that no one will ever know.  

#voldy was shocked when he found out his mom was the witch #he assumed his father would be magical

WHERE

THE FUCK

SHOULD I...

REALLY EVEN START!!!????