it's less popped than ever

Welp, let's get to it.

lawdtoday:

hey

lawdtoday:

hey

(via watershoes)

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.)

(via watershoes)

Where were my women who were forced to learn that with great power comes great responsibility? Where were my awkward school girls who were just trying to graduate high school when they found they didn’t need their glasses anymore, but could lift a school bus one-handed? Where were the funny best buddies? It’s not as though we can all be Lara Croft. Yet for a long time, she was all we had: if you were a woman, you had your place, on one end of the spectrum or the other. Why, I still ask every single time the movie is on TV, is it Kick-Ass and not Hit Girl?

Then the recent Marvel films arrived. Pepper Potts came along in her business-wear and skyscraper Louboutins and was unstoppable in her rise to CEO of Stark Industries. Black Widow slunk onto the scene and showed us that we don’t need to choose between sexy and dangerous. Jane Foster, the astrophysicist genius, still blushed when confronted with Thor’s overwhelming good looks, just the way the rest of us would, while Darcy Lewis was as concerned about her iPod as she was about the faceless government organisation behind its theft.

Maria Hill reached the very top of the male-dominated SHIELD organisation, Sif is a fully-fledged goddess of war, and Peggy Carter was a sharp-shooting, red lipstick-wearing female officer at the frontline of WW2. These aren’t the cardboard cut-out women of action movies gone by. They’re more than the girlfriends or relatives or unobtainable dream girls, more than pawns for a hero’s man-pain. They’re definitely more than a gorgeous yet robot-like tomb raider with a penchant for dressing in clothes that are so often inappropriate for the weather.

They’re you, me. The boss you want to be someday, the academic your friend aspires to. The student who just wants to listen to music and have fun. The women who can do battle, run Fortune 500 companies, wield tasers and drive questionably. Girls who can show fear but fight against the bad guys anyway, who flirt just for fun. The brainwashed Russian superspy assassin. (OK, so maybe not that last one. Then again, we do all have that one friend we wonder about.)

Doctor Who Meme→ [1/6] Companions
↳ “You’ve got your faith. You’ve got your songs and your hymns. And I’ve got the Doctor.

(Source: petercahpaldis, via grlnamedlucifer)

misstransatlantic:

“well that’s just, like, your opinion, man.”

(Source: michaelpierce, via sapphoshands)

sexhaver:

"i can’t read"

(Source: inublo.jp, via fightlikemenintights)

Festive #nails. Finding the right shade of red was trickier than I anticipated. #pesach sameach, kids. #bestjew
back-then:

Winter. 1919

back-then:

Winter. 1919

(via apocalypticgrandeur)

scaredpotter:

Oh, know the perils, read the signs,
the warning history shows,
for our Hogwarts is in danger
from external, deadly foes

And we must unite inside her
or we’ll crumble from within
I have told you, I have warned you…
let the Sorting now begin.

(via fightlikemenintights)