herriestiles:

shelterfromcold:

two deer walk out of a gay bar, one turns to the other and says “man, i can’t believe i blew thirty bucks in there”.

this literally took me forever to get

(via tinystarofthekindlywest)

imacatmiaow:

idonotlikethatsam-i-am:

matafari:

Reason number 3457398735973495 why I love Pink

Respect.

I forgot that Pink’s name isn’t actually Pink

(via itsdeepforhappypeople)

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.)

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 qui-ne-tente-rien-n-a-rien)

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]

(via qui-ne-tente-rien-n-a-rien)

theamericankid:

Where is the “stepped on lego” or “stepped on pronged plug”?

(via mishaliciuos)

treely3256:

hashtag-loser:

cloudcuckoolander527:

vaspider:

doctorblainewilliams:

thedoctorsherlock:

Why doesn’t this have a million notes?!

i love how the “did you drug them” has a little pit stop at “you’re evil”

As well it should.

I’ve reblogged this before but Imma do it again because a)it’s awesome and b) I have a specific voice when I say “Do not do the sex”.

This needs to be on a billboard and posters all around the world. Maybe even on menus are restaurants

Needs to be in bars

treely3256:

hashtag-loser:

cloudcuckoolander527:

vaspider:

doctorblainewilliams:

thedoctorsherlock:

Why doesn’t this have a million notes?!

i love how the “did you drug them” has a little pit stop at “you’re evil”

As well it should.

I’ve reblogged this before but Imma do it again because a)it’s awesome and b) I have a specific voice when I say “Do not do the sex”.

This needs to be on a billboard and posters all around the world. Maybe even on menus are restaurants

Needs to be in bars

(via saltedpenguins)

zeklos:

foreverdepressedteen:

allhailtheboyking:

IM GOING TO SCREAM IM IN CLASS AND THESE GIRLS WHO BULLIED ME IN 5TH GRADE ARE WHISPERING AND THEYRE LIKE

"holy shit did she go to our elementary school"

"i dont know if thats her"

"i rly dont think thats her guys"

AND THE TEACHER CALLED MY NAME AND THEY GO

"holy shit shes hot"

THIS

IS

THE

FUCKING

L I F E

YOU FUCKING GO IM PROUD OF YOU

OWN IT FOR ALL OF US

(via itsraininbritishmen)

al-the-stuff-i-like:

thebrowneyedzombie:

i’m sorry but can we just take a moment to appreciate disney genderbending

like

image

i mean

image

just look

image

image

at the perfection

image

image

in all of this

image

image

image

and let’s not forget the best one

image

image

AND FROZEN

image

image

image

image

image

i’m so satisfied

HADES THOUGH

(via tinystarofthekindlywest)

thepocketwatchparadox:

davestrider:

dreamingdusk:

a mystery wrapped in an enigma drizzled with conundrum

see that bit of grey, faded text? mystery solved.

thepocketwatchparadox:

davestrider:

dreamingdusk:

a mystery wrapped in an enigma drizzled with conundrum

see that bit of grey, faded text? mystery solved.

image

(via itsraininbritishmen)

Everybody whose favourite books have been turned into movies.

(via laughterlinesx)

lalatula01:

malfoysdeliverance:

itsmarshalltime98:

whenyouwishupondisney:

our-fate-lives-within-us:

itstumblingwithgrace:

My sister and I have a headcanon that Jane is Belle and the Beast’s grandaughter.

and I think this further proves our point…

image

Which would explain why she understand Tarzan, he sort of reminds me of Beast in attitude…. he is sort of a Beast… hmmm. I like your headcanon. 

I agree. Professor Porter said that she got her wild stories from her mother. Belle had wild stories, which turned out to be true, just like Jane’s story about Tarzan was true.

This must be shared, with EVERYONE!

SCREAMS

And as a friend pointed out, Jane does wear yellow…

(via baglebites)

infinitelyteenage:

30 Day Fall Out Boy Challenge:
Day 13 : Favorite Pete Wentz Quote

•again I couldn’t pick one but id say my favorites are the last two

(via theoncomingangelbot)