Fandom/personal blog. Dr Who, Sherlock, Lord of the Rings/The Hobbit, Supernatural, Hannibal, Harry Potter, Hunger Games, and the Avengers. I actually hate blonde roast coffee- the coffee flavor isn't strong enough for me, but I'm blonde and I love coffee. Like, I really really like coffee, but anyways... Um... I'm sorry my blog is a mess but I really don't want to put forth the effort to fix it right now so...

paradoxes-for-breakfast:

reasons why halloween is the best holiday:

  1. you are not obliged to visit your relatives
  2. you are not obliged to get gifts for anyone
  3. people will give you candy for absolutely no reason other than halloween
  4. its the only day when its socially acceptable to go out in public dressed like a penguin

1 day ago with 264,211 notes

nowyoukno:

NowYouKno more about Tupac
More Tupac facts here

dean-has-a-wing-kink:

theboywhocried-dean:

sonicspocketwrench:

spaceandbones:

List of significant females on Supernatural to wear plaid

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List of significant females on supernatural who aren’t fucking dead

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plaid saves the day

This explains why even when the Winchesters die, they don’t stay dead. Chronic plaid-wearing makes them immune.

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OH.

2 days ago with 135,418 notes

wayward-sons-and-fallen-angels:

darecrow:

darecrow:

are you guys okay

I didn’t mean for this to get this many notes I’m just genuinely concerned for these people

Once I realized that I wasn’t in America because I was confused as to why we were using the metric system

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.)

tankenabard:

kmckayhi:

Corny jokes will be the death of me

"And they’d both like to give you some feedback"

all-the-kili-feels:

lehgolass:

Orlando Bloom + kissing Percy | requested by anon

And in that moment I swear we all wish we were Percy.

getoffmysheetmycroft:

lastallianceofelvesandmen:

escapedninja:

Friendly reminder that Fili and Kili weren’t born until almost a hundred years after the fall of Erebor and are rescuing a home they never knew

#a home they will also never know

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2 days ago with 47,055 notes