"keep me in mind"

The name is JJ. Happily married to a Sailor. Diagnosed with Fibromyalgia and Chronic Fatigue Syndrome. Owner of a messy faith.

Hubs and I are expecting the newest member of our little family in September <3

Follow or message, I return the favor.
These people are swell

tylerknott:

After all this time and all this work and a lifetime of words, it’s so hard to believe that tomorrow, this little book will be officially released to the world. I am humbled and flattered by the support I have received all of you amazing people, and I just have one favor to ask: Please help me show the world that poetry, new poetry, still matters. Please help me spread the word about this little book and get people buying it. Every single pre order I am donating $2 to an amazing and hauntingly relevant charity, @twloha and the more books are ordered, the more money I give.

Thank you. All of you, for helping make this dream come true. I love you all and I hope when this book finds your hands, you love every word you read.

http://tylerknott.com/chasers

When I get lonely these days, I think: So BE lonely. Learn your way around loneliness. Make a map of it. Sit with it, for once in your life. Welcome to the human experience. But never again use another person’s body or emotions as a scratching post for your own unfulfilled yearnings.
Elizabeth Gilbert (via saintofsass)

(via aloveofpomegranatesandpeaches)

littlemissmutant:

Within three days of becoming engaged, I had already been told that I shouldn’t wear my glasses, because they’re not bridal. I was told my cane wasn’t bridal. I was told my eye… was not bridal. And I realized that if I was going to be “bridal” in their eyes, I was going to have to change who I am. I am proudly disabled.

This photo is giving me LIFE

(via angel-of-the-odd)

I remember the first time you held my hand. I don’t know if it was because of the cold or the fact I loved you but fuck, I felt the world rush through my veins.
11:49pm sadness (via im-not-doing-okay)

(via coffeeandsleepdeprivation)

dr-torres-robbins:

cheeky—-cunt:

PSA

How to keep yourself safe from iCloud hackers. Please make sure your auto photo sharing is turned off so that others don’t fall victim to having their photos stolen like those poor celebs.

Reblog to get the word out!

favorfire:

jean-luc-gohard:

So apparently iCloud was hacked and pretty much every female celebrity’s nudes were leaked. I’d like to remind my followers not to post them, because they’re supposed to be private, and just because some asshole leaked them doesn’t mean you should make it…

punch-a-your-buns:

missespeon:

auwa:

fiztheancient:

fireskink:

jacketlizard:

jetgreguar:

grandmasterflash:

tumblr you can keep your glorified nostalgia about the wild thornberries and tony hawk’s pro skater and getting to hold the flea-ridden stuffed lion during the d.a.r.e program and what have you because THIS right here.  now THIS was the essence of the 90s

YOU’LL CALL NOW

oh man it took me literally 2 seconds of this video to remember exactly how the rest of it went

I hated this commercial. Turns out I still hate it.

OH MY GOD THIS DAMN COMMERCIAL

I CAN’T FUCKING STOP LAUGHING its as awful as i remembered it

i cant quite explain this commercial and how it came back to me like

i couldnt remember the exact words by heart but. everything they said chimed in my head like a song i’d heard a long time ago. it was almost rhythmic, buried deep in my memory. it was probably the most bizarre way ive ever remembered something.

DEAR LORD why did you have to remind me of this? This was one of those commercials that you saw a million times a day, to the point you could recite it by heart, but you wouldn’t just recite it, no, you would make annoying voices for the people as you mocked it just to release the feeling of how much you hated them and this commercial.

Also, can I just say that I find it amazing that a single Sears commercial can bring us all together like this? This commercial is probably 20 years old by now, no one remembers it but when its brought up you remember every little bit of it like it was your favorite song on the radio. We all probably thought that we were the only ones who got that commercial too, but now we know that we all hate it and we can come together now because of it. You want to bring people together through nostalgia? You loved Rugrats as a kid? Of course you did doofus! We all did! But this, this is what nostalgia really is, not some old pop culture reference that any wannabe 90s kid can look up and play along with, this is something that is buried deep within us. A true memory worth remembering, whether you like it or not.

(via nerdycupcake)

rubesdragon:

riderphanomhive:

memeguy-com:

There is no good and evil there is only power

I swear to god I tried to scroll.

the caption is what did it for me

(via angel-of-the-odd)

masturbraiding:

Do you ever catch yourself thinking rude things about someone or judging them and you’re like “hey stop that, that’s not nice don’t u do that”

(via notthatkindofchronic)

arrghigiveup:

jabberwockypie:

deadcatwithaflamethrower:

amemait:

last-snowfall:

deducecanoe:

ppyajunebug:

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.)

Reblogging this kickass post by the equally kickass
lavenderpatil
because everyone should read it

I think… I could be wrong… but everyone Prof Trwylany (sp) said would die at the beginning of every term DID die in the battle of hogwarts? BUt yeah. The year after that was probably filled with grand speeches about those who sacrificed their lives, and how they would rebuild hogwarts, etc. meanwhile… the kids knew. They were there. They knew what it was really like. And the incoming first years probably had a very different relationship with the older kids, who’d seen shit, than in years past. I think there’d be a long year of seriousness and severity… or everyone would try to put on a happy face and pretend that Colin Kreevy wasn’t working on the school paper any more because he was dead. Stiff upper lip. But with a very subdued attitude.

Imagine the seventh years who came back. Because nobody finished their seventh year. That year was a loss. But the ones it really mattered for were them.

Imagine the older kids who are up in the night because they can’t sleep for bad dreams hearing the crying from the lower dorms and finding that little girl who can’t make pincushions but can make Fiendfyre hugging her knees, and saying, “You know what, bring your pillow up, you can sleep on my bed while I read.”

Imagine the new first years, the ones who hear the story on the train, who’re eleven and still young, seeing an older student sitting alone staring blankly and going over to them and saying, “D’you want some of my chocolate frogs?” because they can’t think of anything else to do.

Imagine one finding someone who’s sitting staring at nothing one day and asking in a quiet voice, “Do you need a hug?” and then staying for an hour while the older student cries and cries and hugs them, because some eleven year olds are really smart (and some eleven year olds already came to the school from Bad Shit) and know that sometimes it helps to hold someone you could look after.

Imagine the older students who look at these younger ones coming in, all new and safe and bright, and swearing on Merlin’s grave that nothing will ever, *ever* hurt these kids.

Imagine the alumni of Dumbledore’s Army, who refused to let the fucking Death Eaters win when they were here and kicking and sure as she won’t let them now, finding things to do on weekends, organizing things, refusing to have it so that people just stay there alone being sad. Fuck the third-year rule: *everyone* can go to Hogsmeade, you just buddy up the young kids with the older kids and I mean, fuck, *who’s going to be a threat to the older kids now*?

Imagine them making up insulting nicknames for their old enemies, taking Voldemort and the Carrows and Lestrange and metaphorically spitting on them every time they use them.

Imagine Ron volunteering to take on the Boggart that takes up residence in the one class cupboard because no, look, the stupid thing *still looks like a bloody spider* and look it’s fucking hilarious when you take its legs off and tie it up with a bow. And the class laughs.

Imagine Harry staying at the school for a couple years, even when he’s done, because once people understand how the charm worked - how because he let Voldemort kill him it meant that nothing Voldemort could do could hurt any of them anymore - everyone just feels *better* when he’s there.

Imagine the nights where everyone leaves the common rooms and camps out in the Great Hall and drinks Butterbeer and tells stories and cries and sometimes there are shouting matches because people get so raw, but in the end everyone falls asleep in a pile together.

Imagine all the really, truly inappropriate jokes the survivors make, the ones that make their parents’ eyes fill with tears and terrify the first years, because actually when you’ve been dragged face-first through Hell the *worst shit* becomes fucking funny.

Imagine how the owls don’t have to be kept in the owlry anymore, because every kid needs the animal they brought with them; imagine that for the kids that lost theirs, or never had one, their friends finding them some, buying them some.

Imagine the girl who knows the Cruciatus Curse breaking down crying because she can’t believe she did that, she can’t ever believe she would and she knows she’s wrong and evil and tainted, and Ginny holding her while she cries and when she calms down, Hermione tells her the story of Regulus Black, and about how just because you made shit choices once that doesn’t mean you can’t make better ones now.

Imagine that people have been dealing with this kind of horrible shit all through human history, and people are out there dealing with it today, and yes it absolutely sucks and it’s horrible and the scars it leaves are real and heartbreaking and sometimes people are too badly hurt to go on, but also former child-soldiers play team games and laugh at funny stories and refugee kids with horrible stories love colouring books with bright colours and play games with the friends they’ve made in the camps.

And these are kids who fought. Who fought like little demons. Who *chose* to fight. So yeah, it could be awful. It could be nothing but bleak from beginning to end, a year (a decade) of sternness and unhappiness. But it doesn’t have to be; it isn’t guaranteed.


(and as @tygermama notes, we Muggles have been figuring out this shit: we give it names and throw our best guesses at it, and some of them are good. So there’s help there, too.)

Ooooof

This entire post is a story unto itself.

*Sob* This is much better and wonderful and … BRB, CRYING IN A GOOD WAY.

Fuck this almost made me break down on public transport ;__;

(via nerdycupcake)

nerdycupcake:

all-time—lord:

When you put it that way…

the-pietriarchy:

why are there so many “romantic” black and white gifs of tate from american horror story that aint right did you guys pay any attention to that show at all

(via dr-torres-robbins)

(via itty)