Crazy Tumblr Themes
rainbowrites:

spacethefinalfuck:

thebigfour-ahojako:

satan-chan:

Incredible cosplay

I think that he took cosplay a little bit too far.

he saw his chance and he took it

DISABLED PEOPLE COSPLAYING DISABLED CHARACTERS
SO HAPPY

rainbowrites:

spacethefinalfuck:

thebigfour-ahojako:

satan-chan:

Incredible cosplay

I think that he took cosplay a little bit too far.

he saw his chance and he took it

DISABLED PEOPLE COSPLAYING DISABLED CHARACTERS

SO HAPPY

ppyajunebug:

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.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

ppyajunebug:

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.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

24 Symptoms of Love

psych2go:

relationshipadvice23:

Here is a list of 24 signs that you might be in love. Do you agree with these?

24 Symptoms of Love

Thoughts on this list?!

cumberbuddy:

Benedict with his Actor of the Year award and Dan Stevens! [x]

cumberbuddy:

Benedict with his Actor of the Year award and Dan Stevens! [x]

dutchster:

fat-amy-for-president:

albamentum:

drunktrophywife:

being a girl is really fucking expensive

hahahahhhAHAHAHAHhahahahahhahahah WHO IS PAYING FOR YOUR DATES

hahahahhhAHAHAHAHhahahahahhahahah WHO IS PAYING FOR OUR TAMPONS, PADS, ULTRA SOUNDS, PAP SMEARS, OB/GYN VISITS, BRAS, CLOTHES, MAKE UP, HAIR PRODUCTS TO GO ON DATES WITH FUCKERS LIKE YOU?

[cricket sounds]

http://hobbit-feels.tumblr.com/post/96480387092/warmth-and-constancy-i-am-100-convinced-that

warmth-and-constancy:

I am 100% convinced that not only is TJLC real but that it will end with those little shits getting married, not just because Mrs. Hudson Hath Spoken, not just because we’ve seen one half of the couple getting married to an actual villain and now they have to top that,…

kinky-saint:

rock10zxa:

manafromheaven:

werewolfloves:

squigglydigg:

vvankinq:

teamrocketing:

i was looking up chicken noises to annoy my sister and now i can’t breathe

IM CRYINGG

I STARTED PLAYING THIS IN THE CAR AND MY ENTIRE FAMILY TOLD ME TO “TURN IT OFF HAILEY” WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT

ITS 2 AM AND I AM DYING

EVERYTHING HURTS

this is literally what i’ve set up as my alarm for school

How can I teach my chickens to sing???

dijonayvevo:

"Remember in 6th grade when you-"

image

image

gjume:

this is full of surprises

"I’m a naturally pretty shy person, which I’m cool with now. I used to think it was this affliction I had to overcome.”

i just wanna hold your hand and maybe kiss you sometimes is that too much to much to ask

Colin and Bradley (2008 - 2013)

forced-abortion:

fastinmywcar:

Emmure writes a song called “Bring a gun to school”, everyone freaks out. Foster the People writes a song about a school shooting, and it peaks at #3 on Bilboard and stays on the charts for like five months. But it’s okay, because he’s not screaming, it’s not scary.

I dislike Emmure, but this is pretty fucking relevant.

tennantbutt:

DO U EVER HAVE THIS CELEBRITY THAT EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU SEE THEM YOUR HEART FEELS LIKE ITS GOING TO RIP OUT OF UR CHEST AND YOU GET BUTTERFLIES IN UR STOMACH AND U START SMILING REALLY BIG

makingitastrength:

mending: a Castle & Beckett mix centered around early season 4 and the lingering hurt from that summer {listen}

i almost do (castle version) by taylor swift/edited by jade chapman | all i want by kodaline | home by mumford & sons | come back when you can by barcelona | some kind of home by thriving ivory | wrecking ball by london grammar | hearts a mess by gotye | fresh pair of eyes by brooke waggoner | all i want by dawn golden | come around by rosi golan | for blue skies by strays don’t sleep

makingitastrength:

mending: a Castle & Beckett mix centered around early season 4 and the lingering hurt from that summer {listen}

i almost do (castle version) by taylor swift/edited by jade chapman | all i want by kodaline | home by mumford & sons | come back when you can by barcelona | some kind of home by thriving ivory | wrecking ball by london grammar | hearts a mess by gotye | fresh pair of eyes by brooke waggoner | all i want by dawn golden | come around by rosi golan | for blue skies by strays don’t sleep

denied:%20http://stoptheslowlane.com/