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Hey there, I'm Hayden. 16. Dragons are my thing, so you might see me accidentally post or reblog something that's supposed to go to my flight rising blog on here. Message me if you ever wanna chat about anything! I like fantasy things, animals, art, reading and writing (including roleplay!), and tons of other suff. I'm always looking for new book recs!

joeyokosuka:

pixeflutters:

everytime you think “that’s too big to be a sea bass”

you’re wrong

you are fucking wrong

its always a fucking sea bass

i honestly didn’t know what this was referring to so i just assumed that tumblr was filled with a community of disgruntled fishers smh

stand-up-comic-gifs:

Kumail Nanjiani on the Mash Up pilot

moffatsapprentice:

ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS.

moffatsapprentice:

ASKING THE RIGHT QUESTIONS.

Tagged as: #sour #real questions tho

alexanderwilliam:

send me a ♦ if you see me as primarily feminine, a !! if you see me as primarily androgynous or a # if you see me as primarily masculine 

raptorific:

I see how it is. Rihanna can wear a shiny, completely transparent dress in public and everyone loves it, but when I did it, I was “wasting saran wrap” and “ruining Easter, Daniel.”

itseasytobemerry:

thismachinespewssarcasm:

itseasytobemerry:

why didn’t harry use the chamber of secrets when teaching dumbledore army? i mean, only HE could open the door?

because the giant basilisk skeleton might have been a distraction

if anything it sets the mood

horror-is-not-dead:

urban legends  (◠‿◠✿)

scary stories (◕ω◕✿)

creepy things (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*: ・゚✧

paranormal and supernatural things ✧・゚: *✧・゚:* \(◕ヮ◕✿)/ *:・゚✧*:・゚✧

hearing a noise in the middle of the night  *: ・゚✧ヽ(゚Д゚)ノ

agirlcalledfrost asked: OH OH OH PLEASE TELL US A BOARDING SCHOOL STORY PRETTY PLEASE

ofgeography:

so my school had this thing called “senior skip day,” except that senior skip day didn’t exist and every year the administration sent out emails in the spring that were like DON’T FUCKIN SKIP CLASS OR YOU WILL RECEIVE RESTRICTION (restriction was like, my boarding school’s equivalent of detention where instead of staying after school you had to go to bed early and help stuff envelopes advertising the summer program until your hands were BLOODIED AND CRIPPLED BY CARPAL TUNNEL) and every year the seniors were like YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!

  • spoiler alert: yes they can? THEY ALWAYS CAN.
  • 200 years of american high school and teenagers still think that there is a cap limit on kids in detention and that you can leave after 15 minutes if the teacher doesn’t show up.

anyway, my senior year, we all got together and nattered at each other until some brave soldier (i feel like it was my friend paula but WHO KNOWS) was like “OK SENIOR SKIP DAY IS THIS THURSDAY!!!! NOBODY GO TO CLASS OR UR A SCAB.”

  • she didn’t say scab because she’s not from the 1920s and we aren’t newsies, though this story would be way more interesting if we were
  • what she said was “YOLO THEY CAN’T PUNISH ALL OF US!!!!!”
  • except not yolo because it was 2009 and drake hadn’t been invented yet except as a dear sweet boy in a wheelchair.

we also used this email system to communicate with one another that has very deeply informed the way i understand email and which probably makes it very frustrating to be my friend and receive emails that have subject lines like “URGENT” and then just 42 links to the same florida georgia line youtube video.

  • I’M NOT ASHAMED, but in that way where like i kind of AM ashamed so i’m really aggressively NOT ashamed? 

so the day of reckoning rolls around and my alarm goes off at 8 (class started at 8:05 but i liked to PLAY WITH FIRE when it came to being late; my mom actually asked the school to stop emailing her when i was a sophomore because i was late so often that their rote “Mrs. Ofgeography we are emailing you to say—” was CLOGGING UP HER INBOX and she was like “i GET IT MY CHILD IS THE MOST BORING MISCREANT OF ALL TIME.”) and i looked at my roommate elle and she looked at me and went, “you going?”

"hell no," i said. "YOLO. they can’t punish all of us."

elle, who was far prettier and far cooler than i was with the notable exception of her obsession with tswift’s “love story” and her tendency to look at the endangered species list and cry sometimes during study hall, quickly bizounced across the street to this shopping center thing where all the cool kids smoked in secret where huge trucks dropped off clothes for the Dress Barn. i think there were also tennis courts nearby. more importantly there was this chinese food delivery place and a lil restaurant that made HELLA BAGELS.

  • WHAT KIND OF BAGELS?
  • FUCKIN
  • HELLA.

off goes elle! meanwhile i’m like, “yessssss i’m gonna use senior skip day to watch 14 hours of tv shows and eat frozen peanut butter bars that i stole from the dining hall! I’M GONNA LIVE LIKE I’M 23 ALONE IN CHICAGO ON A WEEKEND WHEN MY ONLY PLAN IS TAKEOUT AND CUDDLING WITH THE FAUX-SNOW-LEOPARD BLANKET I WILL ONE DAY SURELY OWN.” 

of course, during this time the administration was continuing to send out emails that reminded us with increasing urgency that senior skip day was NOT A THING and that we were ALL GETTING RESTRICTION if we didn’t get our STUPID ASSES TO CLASS, GODDAMNIT, WE ARE NOT RUNNING A CIRCUS HERE. 

but i was like! yolo, motherfuckers!!! i already got into college, YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME.

at some point during the day elle and our friend ginna came back to the room with takeout from the chinese delivery place and we sat on our floor eating it and probably watching veronica mars or looking at the endangered species list and crying.

all of a sudden, elle said, “guys shut up, guys shut up, GUYS SHUT UP,” and ginna and i were like, “WHAT we have a LOT to SAY about FRIED FUCKING DUMPLINGS, ELLE," and elle said, "did you hear that?"

"hear what?"

that!”

'that' was the sound of one of our dorm moms, mrs. f, knocking on doors and saying things like, “IF YOU DON'T GET YOUR BUTTS TO CLASS IN 5 MINUTES YOU'RE ON CATEGORY 4 RESTRICTION FOREVER.” elle quickly scampered up our raised beds to hide in the corner, where a tiny human like elle could actually hide from view; i leapt immediately into what we called a closet but was basically a cubby with a flap that was DEFINITELY not meant for a 5'8” individual with knobby as hell knees.

our door, which was never locked because we both hated the effort of typing in the lock code, opened. mrs. f said, “mollyhall?”

i held my breath. 

  • i should add here that i seemed to be operating on like a scooby-doo level of logic where basically i thought that she was somehow NOT ALLOWED to investigate?
  • like, if she can’t see me, there is NO POSSIBLE WAY that she could prove i’m in here, right?
  • she’ll just poke her head in and be like oH GOSH NO KIDS HERE and leave!!

you can see the flaw in my logic.

mrs. f sighed. “mollyhall, i know you’re in here, i literally heard your voice ten seconds ago.”

  • there’s no WAY she guesses i’m in the closet!!!

"mollyhall, i know you’re in the closet."

  • NO YOU DON’T
  • I AM SCHRÖDINGER’S SENIOR

"mollyhall—"

there was a creak. mrs. f stopped. it wasn’t actually a “creak,” so much as this like, prolonged groan? like it’s the sound an elephant would make if it sat on a really large accordion.

i poked my head out of the closet. mrs. f looked at me. elle sat up.

i said, “where’s ginna?”

  • YOU KNOW WHERE GINNA WAS.

"um," said elle, "she’s in the—"

  • GINNA NO

ginna yes.

i really wish i could describe the sound the ceiling made when it collapsed. it sounded a lot like the way losing your breath feels. i sort of remember ginna falling in like, really slow motion, like i could see the expression on her face. i didn’t really think about how i would describe this in words. ginna’s face said:

  • oh no.
  • what have i done?
  • this was a mistake. 
  • i regret a series of decisions that i have made.
  • is there a way out of this?
  • are those oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • why are there oreos under mollyhall’s pillow?
  • mollyhall, you HAVE a food cupboard, what good is a food cupboard if you don’t—
  • oh, crap.

she belly flopped onto the floor. i mean, the girl bounced. and then she just laid there. mrs. f looked at her. elle looked at her. i looked at her, still mostly in the closet. we were all going to get category 4 restriction forever.

ginna said, “hi, mrs. f. i feel like i should explain.”

Tagged as: #best #saved

wiseyoungravenclaw:

Remus Arthur Potter, you were named after two men who looked out for my safety and cared about my well-being out of altruism and decency rather than because I was a tool for them to use or because I was someone’s son.

opinion of anime over time

pre-weeb: oh, those Japanese cartoon things! I saw an episode of sailor moon once
naruto phase: I love naruto!!!! Itadakimasu! *attempts to use chopsticks on instant ramen* jutsuuuuu! *does naruto run up tree, falls on ass*
the Full Weeb: IM REALLY KAWAII ANIME IS MY LIFE BAKA BAKA BAKA
post-naruto: naruto is so lame and overrated. anyone who likes is a baka. I watch the REAL anime, like vampire knight and soul eater. Desu
post-weeb: anime is for babies. I hate anime, fucking weeaboos need to stop clogging up this earth
accidentally finding an anime I like: it's just one, I'm not a weeb or anything. I just appreciate this ONE show regardless of the medium.
weeb-in-denial: I... I'm not a weeb... okay maybe I am. I'm so sorry. Gomen
post-weeb weeb: Y'ALL BITCHES BETTER CALL ME SENPAI

trainhardbestrong:

hannahroad:

hannahroad:

hannahroad:

Miley: “Dad I have something for Tanners bug collection”

my uncle: “that’s great”

Miley: “it’s a bird”

my uncle: “no its not”

-chirping noise-

image

They let it go and it flew away just fine, so we’re wondering how she caught it.

update:

she caught another bird.

image

update: she caught a squirrel today

image

She is gonna rule the world one day with this power

pr1nceshawn:

Shocking Truths Behind What Cat Behaviors Really Mean…

imnotmrholmes:

frozenwaffle21:

bairnsidhe:

nyxetoile:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.
She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 
(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)
But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.
Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”
She didn’t really know who Harry was. 
But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.
He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.
Val wanted to go.
Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.
Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.
"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"
Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.
"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"
Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.
But they moved.
Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.
She knew what she was now.
(Image Source)
(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I’m a minor Potterhead at best. But I love this.

I love this.  I’ve always headcanoned that Dudley turned out ok in spite of his upbringing, and this is the kind of thing that my mental image of Adult!Dudley would do.

*SONS UNCONTROLLABLY

I love the idea that Dudley grows up to realise that his parents were horrible people and that the way they treated Harry was wrong. I especially love this.

imnotmrholmes:

frozenwaffle21:

bairnsidhe:

nyxetoile:

thelethifoldwitch:

Val was adopted. Her dad, lovely though he was, wasn’t really her dad. She didn’t know who really was though, and her dad was kind, even if she refused to call him “dad”.

She’d never known why he’d fought so hard adopt her. She was the weird kid at the foster home, the one weird stuff happened around, the one who’d managed to warn Gemma that there was an adder by her foot, and managed to tease the adder away. 

(She made things vanish too, though she didn’t know where they went. She could get them to come back, sometimes.)

But Dudley had fought for her, said that yes, the other children were perfectly lovely but Valerian Makepeace was something else, something, he said, pointing to her empty file, no other parents had seemed prepared to accept.

Val was a child Dudley Dursley fought to adopt, and adopt her he did. When things went missing he was never angry. When odd things happened he never demanded to know what had occurred. When the snake crawled up his leg and only Val could get it off he just nodded and said, “just like Harry you are.”

She didn’t really know who Harry was. 

But when, that summer, the year she turned 11, an owl landed on her windowsill, holding a letter in its beak, Dudley smiled. “Just like Harry you are,” he said again.

He explained about magic - or what little he could. Explained how his cousin - no, he wasn’t in contact with Harry much anymore, just that odd moving Christmas card each year - could do magic. Explained how there was a place in London, Diagonally, where she could get the things on the list, if she wanted to go.

Val wanted to go.

Dudley sent a letter to his cousin. The address (Godric’s Hollow, what a funny name, Val thought) neatly written and the letter quickly responded to. A barn owl (named Wendelin, apparently) came with a letter saying to go to a particular corner in London, where Harry would meet them.

Meet them he did, him and his whole family, and extended family, red head after red head, and Harry standing dark haired among them all, two dark haired boys, bickering beside him.

"Val are you?" he said, bending a bit so his eyes, dancing and green, were at her height. "It’s alright, I didn’t know what was going on when I was told. You’re a witch. Have you ever done strange things before?"

Val nodded because she had, though she’d always hesitated to call them magic.

"It’s alright. Would you like me to show you how to do something else strange?"

Val nodded because this was an adult not just, as dad did, accepting the strangeness, but asking for it. When she tapped the bricks, lifted by Dudley so she could reach the top one, she didn’t expect anything to happen.

But they moved.

Behind her the army of redheads cheered, and as her dad lifted her down and touched a kiss to her hair she smiled, properly, widely, as she handed the wand back.

She knew what she was now.

(Image Source)

(Idea of Dudley having a muggle-born Slytherin daughter from ninnieamee)

I’m a minor Potterhead at best. But I love this.

I love this.  I’ve always headcanoned that Dudley turned out ok in spite of his upbringing, and this is the kind of thing that my mental image of Adult!Dudley would do.

*SONS UNCONTROLLABLY

I love the idea that Dudley grows up to realise that his parents were horrible people and that the way they treated Harry was wrong. I especially love this.

sodomymcscurvylegs:

[AGGRESSIVELY AVOIDS USING HEALING ITEMS TO SAVE THEM FOR BOSS BATTLES.]

[AGGRESSIVELY FORGETS TO USE HEALING ITEMS DURING BOSS BATTLES.]

kireinahana:

spoken-not-written:

stunningpicture:

When radiologists take a selfie

dead

Wait I’ve seen this

kireinahana:

spoken-not-written:

stunningpicture:

When radiologists take a selfie

dead

Wait I’ve seen this

credit