*serious voice* My name's Liz and I am a fangirl. I have lots of interests and the occasional hobby here and there. I feel I must warn you that I enjoy many shows/movies/books/things so this blog will have lots of things. But most importantly, my dogs :)

 

ellierose101:

striderkid:

dokidoki-artichokee:

hamburgurl:

1 universe, 9 planets, 7 seas, 7 continents, 809 islands, 204 countries, and I had the unfortunate luck of meeting u

THERE ARE 8 PLANETS, YOU UNCULTURED SWINE.

VIVA LA PLUTO FUCK YOU

I’m pretty sure “Viva la Pluto fuck you” is the best sentence I’ve heard all week. 

(Source: hashtaglmao)

caraphatash:

hagakures-burger:

bennybones-cumbercheeks:

lordoftheinternet:

poptech:

And the highest paid public employee in your state is…

are you fucking kidding me

Do you ever just see America’s priorities and cry?



"You saved a persons life through surgery? Fuck that, this guy lead our team to WIN THE FINALS!" 

caraphatash:

hagakures-burger:

bennybones-cumbercheeks:

lordoftheinternet:

poptech:

And the highest paid public employee in your state is…

are you fucking kidding me

Do you ever just see America’s priorities and cry?

"You saved a persons life through surgery? Fuck that, this guy lead our team to WIN THE FINALS!" 

livesandliesofwizards:

The Great Hall is repaired first. It must be first, because here is the damage the worst. Even a first year mediwitch will tell you that you must repair the heart before you can go on to do the rest. Here, where the dead were laid to rest, the witches and wizards who are left standing raise their wands towards the cracked and darkened ceiling to make it shine with stars once more. There, Filch scrubs blood off the stone tiles. And over there house elves carefully sand down the brand new benches, ever watchful for even the tiniest splinter that might cause a careless student harm.
Next come the common rooms, because there must be safe spaces - even when Hogwarts, and the world, are crumbling around you you must have somewhere to retreat to. Each head of house takes on their own common room, and eventually they are restored. Even made greater. Slughorn in particular takes great pleasure in banishing every hint of dankness from the corners of his former house. No slithering first year will ever think they have been banished, that their fate is nothing but the cold and the dark.
Slowly, Hogwarts heals. Eventually, there is nothing left but a single scar in the shape of a beaten down greenhouse. Eventually, new students fill the halls who never knew Hogwarts before The Last Battle. To them, it only makes sense that the dark third corridor on the fifth floor is festooned with magical fireflies that never die. It is as it has always been. They don’t stop to think of the generations of bumped heads and stumbles in the dark that made Flitwick stop and think maybe.
Hogwarts is changed, as are they all. As is the world. But change is relative, and swiftly Hogwarts is as it has always been for thousands of students. A home. Nothing to be remarked upon.
But some remember.
Hermione Granger, who, returning for her seventh year, cannot eat in the Great Hall where she saw Fred’s body on the ground. She sees Aberforth often that year. Dennis Creevey, who goes back every year even though he can hardly bear it, because his brother had loved Hogwarts, had fought and died for it. Laura Madley, who still flinches at every loud noise. Yatin Baghat, who sleeps with his wand under his pillow every night for the rest of his life. Stephen Cornfoot, who has to have his own separate room apart from the Ravenclaws because he wakes up screaming at least once a week.
For people like them, sometimes seeing Hogwarts so whole is not a relief. It is not home. It is a mockery of their pain to see their scars buffed away as if they had never really happened. Sometimes the perfect walls of Hogwarts close in on them until they can’t breathe.
During those times, they go to the Room of Requirement. True to its purpose, it gives them what they need. They can walk on the stones still cracked from curses, and see proof that what they had gone through was real. Proof that Hogwarts still remembered its ruin, still had cracks running through it as real as the ones that scarred its students. On those bad days, those students can go curl up among the broken things, look up at the sky through the gaping wounds torn into the walls, and be able to breathe at last.
It can be comforting, to know that you are not alone in your damage.
(written and submitted by rainbowrites, who has such an incredible, subtle way of conveying the very very difficult and the tragic. In rainbowrites’ hands, something like this remains painful, but it also becomes beautiful, a joy to read.)

livesandliesofwizards:

The Great Hall is repaired first. It must be first, because here is the damage the worst. Even a first year mediwitch will tell you that you must repair the heart before you can go on to do the rest. Here, where the dead were laid to rest, the witches and wizards who are left standing raise their wands towards the cracked and darkened ceiling to make it shine with stars once more. There, Filch scrubs blood off the stone tiles. And over there house elves carefully sand down the brand new benches, ever watchful for even the tiniest splinter that might cause a careless student harm.

Next come the common rooms, because there must be safe spaces - even when Hogwarts, and the world, are crumbling around you you must have somewhere to retreat to. Each head of house takes on their own common room, and eventually they are restored. Even made greater. Slughorn in particular takes great pleasure in banishing every hint of dankness from the corners of his former house. No slithering first year will ever think they have been banished, that their fate is nothing but the cold and the dark.

Slowly, Hogwarts heals. Eventually, there is nothing left but a single scar in the shape of a beaten down greenhouse. Eventually, new students fill the halls who never knew Hogwarts before The Last Battle. To them, it only makes sense that the dark third corridor on the fifth floor is festooned with magical fireflies that never die. It is as it has always been. They don’t stop to think of the generations of bumped heads and stumbles in the dark that made Flitwick stop and think maybe.

Hogwarts is changed, as are they all. As is the world. But change is relative, and swiftly Hogwarts is as it has always been for thousands of students. A home. Nothing to be remarked upon.

But some remember.

Hermione Granger, who, returning for her seventh year, cannot eat in the Great Hall where she saw Fred’s body on the ground. She sees Aberforth often that year. Dennis Creevey, who goes back every year even though he can hardly bear it, because his brother had loved Hogwarts, had fought and died for it. Laura Madley, who still flinches at every loud noise. Yatin Baghat, who sleeps with his wand under his pillow every night for the rest of his life. Stephen Cornfoot, who has to have his own separate room apart from the Ravenclaws because he wakes up screaming at least once a week.

For people like them, sometimes seeing Hogwarts so whole is not a relief. It is not home. It is a mockery of their pain to see their scars buffed away as if they had never really happened. Sometimes the perfect walls of Hogwarts close in on them until they can’t breathe.

During those times, they go to the Room of Requirement. True to its purpose, it gives them what they need. They can walk on the stones still cracked from curses, and see proof that what they had gone through was real. Proof that Hogwarts still remembered its ruin, still had cracks running through it as real as the ones that scarred its students. On those bad days, those students can go curl up among the broken things, look up at the sky through the gaping wounds torn into the walls, and be able to breathe at last.

It can be comforting, to know that you are not alone in your damage.

(written and submitted by rainbowrites, who has such an incredible, subtle way of conveying the very very difficult and the tragic. In rainbowrites’ hands, something like this remains painful, but it also becomes beautiful, a joy to read.)

twyll:

i have these people i follow who follow me too and i think they’re really cool and stuff and we mutually reblog each other and

and sometimes i just sit down and look at their url when it shows up on my dash and im like

aw yeah

we tight

we bros

but we’RE NOT???? WEVE NEVER EVEN HAD A CONVERSATION?????

(Source: marinsco)

doritos-maragaritos:

theramen:

wellhellotello:

fckingmajeliblood:

so-much-hilarity:

I keep having to remind myself that it’s the lionesses that do the hunting and killing and get their faces soaked in blood I mean is there a more badass animal



the king of the jungle
in the second it’s like ‘maybe if I look away she’ll stop yelling at me’

I TOLD YO BITCH ASS TO PICK UP THE CUBS

Its the alpha

doritos-maragaritos:

theramen:

wellhellotello:

fckingmajeliblood:

so-much-hilarity:

I keep having to remind myself that it’s the lionesses that do the hunting and killing and get their faces soaked in blood I mean is there a more badass animal

the king of the jungle

in the second it’s like ‘maybe if I look away she’ll stop yelling at me’

I TOLD YO BITCH ASS TO PICK UP THE CUBS

Its the alpha

http://del-fin.tumblr.com/post/83320980075

prolethean:

for everyone who were dolls and asked for my thoughts on delphine thus far, i’m pretty sure the sentiment can be boiled down to: the road to hell is paved with good intentions.

she wants to stand with cosima, wants to have that solidarity, but she knows she realistically cannot…