Queer, Feminist, 18.

30th August 2014

Photo

Can definitely say I’ve had worse evenings #peakdistrict #champagne #hottub #countryside

Can definitely say I’ve had worse evenings #peakdistrict #champagne #hottub #countryside

Tagged: countrysidechampagnehottubpeakdistrict

29th August 2014

Post

Never go out when you know the guy you have been in love with for an excess of 8 months is out. Every time I saw him I wanted to cry. And this guy grabbed my wrist and held me tight and I’ve never freaked out so badly.

28th August 2014

Video reblogged from Lindsey's Tumblr with 835 notes

marinashutup:

Abuse in the YouTube Community - There is No Neutral

Source: marinashutup

28th August 2014

Photo reblogged from Let's pretend I put a really meaningful quote here with 56,907 notes

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.)

Source: thelethifoldwitch

28th August 2014

Chat reblogged from I'm Fawned of you with 1,040 notes

A Summary of GBBO

  • Sue Perkins: Iain No
  • Audience: Iain No
  • Iain: Iain Yes

Source: partyinhannahsroom

28th August 2014

Photoset reblogged from Ariel's Grotto with 254,670 notes

unamusedsloth:

Nude Portraits series by photographer Trevor Christensen

Source: unamusedsloth

27th August 2014

Post

I go through Danny’s twitter when I really want to torture and hurt myself and I cant stop

27th August 2014

Post with 3 notes

Read More

27th August 2014

Post reblogged from I'm Fawned of you with 24 notes

xfawnx:

I agree where tumblr user ethiopienne is coming from on her tweets peeved at the guys who invented the nail polish that can tell if a drink has been date raped. Link here 

But I would love to have it on me. So much is f*cked about rape culture and it angers me, there is no ‘but’ to that sentence, right here and now I personally want all the date rape detection in the world while I continue to fight the hell out of the system. 

Tagged: my thoughts better worded

27th August 2014

Post

I’m so confused. I called a nice end to us because it was complex and I cant be dealing and it was all fine and nice and ‘have a nice life’-y and final. Then you text me today wtf. V confused

27th August 2014

Video reblogged from i'm a coward, sir with 183,160 notes

sixthrock:

sofapizza:

pleatedjeans:

This dog barks like a person screaming for his life. [via]

their neighbors must be terrified.

*wag wag wag*
*happy dog face*
*BLOODCURDLING DEATH SCREECH*
*wag wag wag*

Tagged: this made me laugh more than it should

Source: pleatedjeans

27th August 2014

Photo with 6 notes

Having a good hair day. #me #selfie

Having a good hair day. #me #selfie

Tagged: meselfie

27th August 2014

Photo

Up the hill with my pup #dog #walks #view #cheltenham #goldenretriever

Up the hill with my pup #dog #walks #view #cheltenham #goldenretriever

Tagged: cheltenhamviewgoldenretrieverdogwalks

27th August 2014

Photo reblogged from Alan Lastufka with 720 notes

Source: arandanauts

27th August 2014

Photoset reblogged from tcm fanclub president swag with 15,552 notes

asylum-art:

Leandro Erlich - Swimming Pool

Leandro Erlich, Argentina b.1973

Swimming pool 2010 Timber, swimming pool ladder, plexiglass an water

“An extraordinary and visually confounding installation…Erlich constructed a full-size pool, complete with all its trappings, including a deck and a ladder.

When approached from the first floor, visitors were confronted with a surreal scene: people, fully clothed, can be seen standing, walking, and breathing beneath the surface of the water.

It was only when visitors entered the Duplex gallery from the basement that they recognized that the pool is empty, its construction a visual trick fashioned by the artist.

A large, continuous piece of acrylic spanned the pool and suspended water above it, creating the illusion of a standard swimming pool that was both disorienting and humorous.”

Source: asylum-art