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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.)

Post by thelethifoldwitch (via zer0tucker)
October 10, 2014 at 7:29 PM | Post Permalink | 84,454 notes



glamdamnit:

My sister asked if the events of “The Labyrinth” are meant to be Sarah dreaming, or are they real? Although my primary reaction was that she shouldn’t put that much thought into any children’s movie (or any instance of David Bowie in tight pants), I’d like to take this opportunity to put so much thought into this children’s movie, that it’ll blow your mind.
So why is David Bowie kidnapping a child from an underage Jennifer Connelley?
In a time long long ago a sorcerer named Jareth fell in love with a girl named Sarah. Sarah’s father and step-mother would not let her marry Jareth because they wanted her to keep her, as a servant, to care for their other child. In a fit of rage Jareth kidnapped this other child and spirited it away to the fairy world. In this new world Jareth built a palace for his Sarah. He turned the spoiled child into a goblin, and kept it to be a servant.
Many stories of the fairy world tell us that time moves differently there than in our world (Rip Van Winkle for one). In the time it took for Jareth to build his kingdom, which he may have thought was little more than a few years, Sarah grew old and died.
Overcome by grief and addled by a lifetime spent in a strange world filled with monsters, Jareth goes mad. He refuses to believe that he has lost his love. He searches the mortal world from his castle, looking for her.
Sarah is Hebrew name. So, it is common, and has been in use for thousands and thousands of years. It does not take long (for him) to find a dark haired girl named Sarah, who has a younger sibling, and who feels that she is treated unfairly by her step mother. In a fit of rage he kidnaps this other child and spirits it away to the fairy world. Perhaps this new Sarah dies in the quest to find the child, perhaps she wins her sibling back and flees.
Jareth searches the mortal world from his from his castle, looking for her.  It does not take long to find a dark haired girl named Sarah…
This is how Jareth becomes the goblin king. Every goblin in the goblin city is a child Jareth has stolen, who was not recovered by a Sarah. (he told the current Sarah that Toby would become a goblin if she did not find him in time)
This is why he builds the maze. The magic bog, the junk yard of useless treasures, all tricks to slow Sarah down. Because if he can only have his Sarah for the time it takes for her to regain the stolen child, he will make it take as long as possible, keep her as long as possible.
This is why there exists in our world a book containing the story. Because it has happened before. So many times. At some point some lucky Sarah must have returned to our world to tell the story.
This is why when the most recent Sarah first meets Hoggle at the start of the labyrinth, and introduces herself; “I’m Sarah”, Hoggle responds “That’s what I figured.”
Because of course she’s Sarah.
They were all Sarah.

glamdamnit:

My sister asked if the events of “The Labyrinth” are meant to be Sarah dreaming, or are they real? Although my primary reaction was that she shouldn’t put that much thought into any children’s movie (or any instance of David Bowie in tight pants), I’d like to take this opportunity to put so much thought into this children’s movie, that it’ll blow your mind.

So why is David Bowie kidnapping a child from an underage Jennifer Connelley?

In a time long long ago a sorcerer named Jareth fell in love with a girl named Sarah. Sarah’s father and step-mother would not let her marry Jareth because they wanted her to keep her, as a servant, to care for their other child. In a fit of rage Jareth kidnapped this other child and spirited it away to the fairy world. In this new world Jareth built a palace for his Sarah. He turned the spoiled child into a goblin, and kept it to be a servant.

Many stories of the fairy world tell us that time moves differently there than in our world (Rip Van Winkle for one). In the time it took for Jareth to build his kingdom, which he may have thought was little more than a few years, Sarah grew old and died.

Overcome by grief and addled by a lifetime spent in a strange world filled with monsters, Jareth goes mad. He refuses to believe that he has lost his love. He searches the mortal world from his castle, looking for her.

Sarah is Hebrew name. So, it is common, and has been in use for thousands and thousands of years. It does not take long (for him) to find a dark haired girl named Sarah, who has a younger sibling, and who feels that she is treated unfairly by her step mother. In a fit of rage he kidnaps this other child and spirits it away to the fairy world. Perhaps this new Sarah dies in the quest to find the child, perhaps she wins her sibling back and flees.

Jareth searches the mortal world from his from his castle, looking for her.  It does not take long to find a dark haired girl named Sarah…

This is how Jareth becomes the goblin king. Every goblin in the goblin city is a child Jareth has stolen, who was not recovered by a Sarah. (he told the current Sarah that Toby would become a goblin if she did not find him in time)

This is why he builds the maze. The magic bog, the junk yard of useless treasures, all tricks to slow Sarah down. Because if he can only have his Sarah for the time it takes for her to regain the stolen child, he will make it take as long as possible, keep her as long as possible.

This is why there exists in our world a book containing the story. Because it has happened before. So many times. At some point some lucky Sarah must have returned to our world to tell the story.

This is why when the most recent Sarah first meets Hoggle at the start of the labyrinth, and introduces herself; “I’m Sarah”, Hoggle responds “That’s what I figured.”

Because of course she’s Sarah.

They were all Sarah.

Post by glamdamnit (via zer0tucker)
October 10, 2014 at 7:08 PM | Post Permalink | 74,041 notes



kingdomofrevolution:

Oh, boy, I am so NOT in board with this.

Post by kingdomofrevolution (via kingdomofrevolution)
September 9, 2014 at 3:24 AM | Post Permalink | 13 notes



indigosalmon:

Sailor Moon Crystal OP - Moon Pride Movie scenes

Post by indigosalmon (via indigosalmon)
September 9, 2014 at 3:14 AM | Post Permalink | 90 notes



The Pretty Guardian in a Sailor Suit, Guardian of Love and Courage, Sailor Jupiter!

I’ll make you feel so much regret, it’ll leave you numb!

Post by watashikathy (via watashikathy)
September 9, 2014 at 3:10 AM | Post Permalink | 1,726 notes



Post by vodka-blueberry (via vodka-blueberry)
September 9, 2014 at 3:09 AM | Post Permalink | 1,714 notes



Reblog if you’re a Ravenclaw.

allonsyforever:

Wit beyond measure is man’s greatest treasure!

Just taking attendance!

Gryffindor click here

Slytherin x

Hufflepuff x

Post by allonsyforever (via allonsyforever)
September 7, 2014 at 12:35 AM | Post Permalink | 75,656 notes



I need some more music to listen to

len-kagamine-lover:

Anything Len Kagamine or 96neko related cause I haven’t listened to them in a while.
I dont mind Len singing english but I don’t prefer it but please give some songs that aren’t popular because I’ve heard most if them but I’m not looking fir duets its ciol uf u kniw sime tell me any way but make sure that they are sung by him I dont care if they are covers just something I havent heard
And for 96neko basically anything thats not on her albums cause I basically memorized those songs

I don’t know if you would be interested in this or not but 96neko has done a cover of Lovelessxxx (one of Len’s VanaN’Ice songs) along side Clear and Pokota. 

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wQeTbovuuJI

Post by len-kagamine-lover (via len-kagamine-lover)
September 2, 2014 at 2:24 AM | Post Permalink | 1 note



I’ve always admired the control that 96neko has over her voice. It’s absolutely amazing how easily she can switch from portraying Ib’s voice then switch to Mary’s and finally Gary’s. Honestly, she one of the nico nico douga vocalists that I admire the most because of that.

September 2, 2014 at 2:18 AM | Post Permalink



fuckyourfate:

this is me in the top photo. the second photo is me last night.

my name is Heather, I am nineteen years old, broken hearted and broken. my boyfriend did this to me.

if you EVER notice abnormal jealousy or controlling issues with your “man” LEAVE HIM. THINGS WILL NOT GET BETTER WHEN HE DOESN’T KNOW HE’S SICK. i almost lost my fucking life last night to someone who claimed he loved me. 

we were fighting.  arguing. like any normal couple. until i tried running. i was dragged up the stairs by my hair. he started strangling me. so i suggested we take a break. when i said those words, something flipped inside of him.. the look in his kind eyes vanished and all i could see was anger and evilness. he then smashed a milk jug into my face repeatedly until my nose started gushing blood all over the bed. once he saw what he had done, he ran to the bathroom and was screaming ” WHAT THE FUCK DID I JUST DO!!! OH MY GOD!!!! I’M SO SORRY!!! WHAT HAVE I DONE!!!” etc. that was my final chance. i ran downstairs to phone 911 and request an ambulance RIGHT away. as soon as he heard me on the phone he started coming downstairs screaming “DON’T CALL ANYONE” 

i have never been so fucking petrified in my life. and i’ve been to hell and back. as soon as i heard that, i ran outside into the snow banks wearing nothing on my bare feet, jogging pants, and a tank top. i luckily immediately saw two strangers walking across the street, dropped the phone in the snow and ran over to them screaming for help. all they could see was a face covered in tears and blood. one of them instantly pulled out their cell phone and explained the situation to 911. the other sat with my on a set of stairs holding me and comforting me until i flagged down a random black van. he backed up and gave me a ride to the hospital where i was rushed into emerg. 

thankfully, i have no broken bones. i have two black eyes (one is verry swollen.) i have gashes all over my forehead and the hidden parts of my body. i have three sets of stitches. one under my eye, one on the bridge of my nose, and one on the palm of hand. 

up until last night, i wanted to spend the rest of my life with him. i wanted his children, i would do anything to keep him in my life. now i’m terrified of living my own life. i’m terrified of my reflection, i’m terrified of what he’s now going through, and i’m terrified of sleeping. 

i wish i could have seen the signs. 

please reblog, i think every young girl needs to see this. 

Post by fuckyourfate (via rivan145th)
December 27, 2013 at 11:26 PM | Post Permalink | 112,479 notes




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