My Outward Mind


nextgenconfessions:

I hate Scorose.

submitted by: anon


A short list of things they don’t tell you about pregnancy in health class…

  • You start to feel out of breath on occasion.
  • As time goes on you can literally feel your insides shifting around in there.
  • Results have been cramps in weird areas and general discomfort.
  • Bending starts to feel a little bit more difficult as well.

Oy… :\ And I am only 4 1/2 months.


I’m gonna write tonight!!

– Me fucking lying to myself (via biological-splicer) Via Happening in my Head

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.)


candlewinds:

it’s so unsettling to be reminded as an adult that the people and things you loved as a child are not immortal like you once thought they were

Via The Underestimation Of The Highly Probable

i’m free

(Source: faantasmic)


Via Just Be Me


notthedisneyyourelookingfor:

I’m still in disbelief…


Via ☽☆☾

Reblog If You Can Take Off Your Bra Without Taking Your Shirt Off.

sailing-s0ul:

awomanfromitaly:

anukii:

mis-c3l-la-neous:

themishamigosofthemishapocalypse:

50eathaters:

image   

Girl’s are amazing

I think we broke the notes…

i feel like i’m reblogging history. “the post that broke the notes”

THERE ARE NO FUCKING NOTES

WE HAVE REACHED INFINITY

what the heLL

where is it



After many months of not playing ACNL, I had a dream about one of the more popular dreamie neighbors (Merengue) being sad about not being able to find a parasol she liked. I personally do not have this neighbor, but the dream really spoke to me enough to where I thought I would try and make a neighbor “themed parasol” of sorts.  So… this is what I came up with.  I hope the ACNL community likes it.  If you have any tips on improving it, feel free to send concrit.

What do you think?





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