Jan. 6th, 2017

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Reblog while it’s still true

I wanna see this get a million notes before he leaves office.

My boy !

January 19th’s the last day we can reblog, so don’t miss your opportunity!

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Carrie Fisher being an absolute treasure in “8 Out Of 10 Cats.”  
athousanderrors: from 'Spirited Away' - soot sprites, clutching confetti stars, running about excitedly. (Default)
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how in the fuck do you find a good url without hyphens 

ship a rarepair

find a thing u like, add ing to the end

change a vowel to something like x v or c

stick an s or two in there

figure out a creative pun

make up something ridiculous

Add numbers

just put your full fucking name in

Don’t waste my time thinking of a “good” username.

IDK, a fucking miracle or something.


An inside joke


spend five hours going through quotes

fandom that isn’t very active, phrase used only twice in the show (i think?)

alternate version of an OC’s name that you’ve used since you were like 15

Obnoxiously obscure literary references.

get lucky because on no other social media is this pun untaken

a sentence

Stick two random words you like together.

quote a line from a fanfic that hasn’t been big in years from a fandom that hasn’t been at its peak in years


also chumhandle

Just use the name you use everywhere else online.

Reference an obscure side character from an even more obscure tabletop rpg. Then use it everywhere online. 

remove the spaces from your favourite line from your favourite sonnet. Use it everywhere for the next 15 years online. 
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technology related sensory memories from my childhood

sliding the metal cover on floppy disks

the slight resistance of inserting cassette and video tapes

ripping off the strips of holed paper off of dot matrix printer paper 

rolling the wheel on a disposable camera to take another photo

The heaviness and rubber texture of the roller ball in a computer mouse, and the little ring of lint

Unkinking the curly cord of a telephone while you talked

The -peww sound and slowly fading image of a crt monitor turning off, and then running your finger through the static on the dusty glass

The crunch of opening or closing a plastic Disney vhs cover

The sound effects in kidpix

Extending and collapsing metal antennas and using them as magic wands

…God, it is so weird these things aren’t around any more. Cause it’s true, the sensations are so distinct. It’s bizarre to think about missing these tiny relics.
athousanderrors: from 'Spirited Away' - soot sprites, clutching confetti stars, running about excitedly. (Default)
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From the stories I’ve heard of carrie fisher’s anxiety coping methods, I feel she’d approve of glittery nails to help me through today. #generalleia #princessleia #carriefisher #theprincessdiarist
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concept: willy wonka and harry potter take place in the same universethe ministry of magic haaaates Willy Wonka

“Mr. Wonka,” Dumbledore smiled warmly, looking down into the Pit from his podium. The members of the Wizengamot muttered disapprovingly, shifting in their seats. Willy Wonka, clad today in a bright magenta suit and tophat, beamed cheekily up at them from his chair, his silver-gloved hands cradling his chin. 

“Mr. Dumbledore,” He replied brightly, with the barest hint of a lisp. 

“I trust you know why you are here?” Dumbledores question was crisp and businesslike, but the twinkle in his eye gave away his amusement at the situation. 

“Not at all! I’ve nary a clue,” Wonka wiggled his eyebrows. Dumbledore audibly stifled a laugh. 

“You are accused of improper use of magic, improper use of muggle artifacts, and several counts of using magic in front of a muggle,” Dumbledore reminded him. He conjured a projection with his wand. Displayed in grainy sepia was Willy Wonka, arm around a boy of around 10. Behind his back, he twitched an ash wand, and machines in the background around them whirred to life, producing all manner of sweets. 

The projection ran its course and collapsed, and Dumbledore stowed his wand back inside his robes.

Wonka smiled and fiddled with his hat. 

“How do you plead?” Dumbledore asked, leaning forward eagerly for what would surely be an amusing trial. 

“Not guilty on all counts,” Wonka said, perhaps a tad smugly.

The members of the Wizengamot muttered amongst themselves. Not Guilty? Impossible!

Dumbledore hushed them quickly. “Explain, if you would. We have, after all, quite a mountain of evidence.”

Wonka stood and brushed a bit of dust off his suit. He tipped his hat mischievously. “Of course,” he grinned. 

“Firstly, use of magic shall only be considered improper whereby it is applied to cause harm or applied recklessly. All magic used in my sweets is rigorously tested for both safety and taste. It is not used to cause harm, but to bring joy.” Wonka paused to adjust his jacket. 

“But surely,” Dumbledore said, leafing through his notes, “you cannot deny that you illegally charmed several thousand muggle artifacts?”

“Ah, but I can,” Wonka said, now twirling his cap in his hands. “Muggle artifact refers, of course, to any muggle made object. But, you see, I built those machines, each and every one. They are not muggle machines at all, but wizarding machines, built by a wizard. The factory itself, as well. You could argue that, as machines are a muggle invention, I still broke the rules, but then I could argue that every wizard dwelling with any charms applied to its walls is in violation of the law, as muggles were the first to make bricks.”

The Wizengamot glared silently. He was right, of course. Violating the spirit of the law was not illegal if one followed the letter. 

“And the last charge? These are definitely Muggle children, are they not? No magical talent, raised in muggle society?” Dumbledore straightened his glasses and peered down at Wonka, his eyes still bright with intrigue. 

“Not at all,” Wonka grinned, placing his hat back on his head. “You see, the ticket system was not nearly so random as I pretended. The tickets were charmed, they would only becomes visible to children with magical heritage. All the children chosen were second generation Squibs.” Wonka bowed low, as if he were finishing a particularly well executed play. 

“Well, ladies and gentlemen, it seems no laws were violated after all.” Dumbledore stifled a grin at the groans of angry disapproval from the Wizengamot. 

“But he very clearly violated the intent of the rules!” Spluttered a large, rather red faced wizard in the second row. “He’s just…cheating! He’s cheating!”

“Ah, this is true, but he did not, technically speaking, break any of the rules. He did not expose muggles to magic, nor enchant muggle made objects, nor improperly apply magic anymore so than any magical confectioner. I’m afraid we have to let him go.” Dumbledore smiled gently and put away the rather thick file with Wonka’s name embossed on the cover. For the brief second it was open, a list of hundreds of charges with “Not Guilty” inked beside them was visible. It was carried off by a house elf, and the Wizengamot began to file out until only Dumbledore was left. 

“You’re a very clever man,” He called down to Wonka. “We could use you at Hogwarts, you know.”

“No thank you,” Wonka called back, grinning. “Skirting the law is far more fun!”

Willy Wonka is a fucking Slytherin.

I’d prevviously said ‘Yes! Gene Wilder! Wonk!’. Now there’s pics.



MS. FRIZZLE! (and the MAGIC School Bus).

She must be before the Wizengamot ALL the TIME.

(Is her excuse; ‘Well, it’s educational’???? And it WORKS?!!)

Cornelius Fudge sighed and rubbed a hand over his face. Behind him, the members of the Wizengamot muttered amongst themselves, wondering what his next move would be. When he finally looked up from his podium, all he could do was glare at the chipper redheaded woman perched on the arm of the interrogation seat in the Pit. A bright green lizard poked its head out of the collar of her planet patterned dress and skittered around her shoulders to stare back at him. 

“Mrs. Valerie…” He checked the file again. “Frizzle?”

“Good morning, Minister!” She replied happily, a hint of a laugh in her voice. 

“It’s 3:30 in the afternoon, Madam,” He replied. He was tired. 

“Here yes, but in America, its 10:30 in the morning! Aren’t time zones incredible?” She smiled and he could see all her teeth. 

Fudge’s eye twitched irritably and he took a deep, steadying breath. 

“Do you know why you’ve been called before the Wizengamot today, Mrs. Frizzle?” He asked, shuffling the papers from her file. 

“I’m probably in trouble,” she smiled serenely, absentmindedly petting the lizard. “That is, after all, what the Wizengamot deals in!”

Fudge stifled a groan as he began leafing through her file. He didn’t even know where to begin. “Mrs. Frizzle, you are charged with no less than two hundred and thirty two counts of violating the Statute of Secrecy. Note that this is one count for each muggle known to be exposed to magic through your actions, and not a reflection of how many actions you have taken.” He drew out a page from the file. “Actions that include unlawful use of a sentience charm upon a muggle bus, unlawful use on that same bus of indestructibility charms and some sort of curse or hex that made the damn thing not only unresponsive and utterly unusable to anyone but yourself and your students, but also made us unable to decharm, move or even hide it, several unlawful uses of shrinking charms, bubble head charms, transfiguration, and at least one unregistered charm of your own making that allowed you to leave the planet entirely!” He slammed his hand down on the podium. “Do you have anything at all to say for yourself?!”

Mrs. Frizzle smiled politely. “Prime Minister,” she said calmly, “With all due respect, I have a question for you. Have you ever captured lightning in a bottle?”

“Have I- What?” Fudge spluttered, taken aback by her odd question. 

“Have you ever captured lightening in a bottle?” She repeated, eyes flashing. 

“Of course I haven’t, what sort of nonsense-” He began, but she threw up her hand and interrupted him. 

“Muggles have. They’ve known how to use the same energy that comprises lightening to light their homes for over 100 years now. They can generate what amounts to lightening in a bottle with water, or the light and heat from the sun, or the wind. They can carry music in their pockets. They have been able, for nearly 30 years now, to leave the Earth and stand on the Moon.” Mrs. Frizzle straightened her dress. “I have, yes, been using my magic to help teach my students, but what I’ve been teaching them is science! It’s a shame that we don’t learn science as children the way muggles do. They know how the planets move! They know why the Earth turns! Muggles have a wealth of knowledge that rivals that of the centaurs, and we just,” She gestures around incredulously. “We just ignore it! Did you know they are able to not only capture movement, but also sound on film? It’s incredible!” 

Fudge waved a hand to silence the incensed grumbling of the Wizengamot. “Mrs. Frizzle,” he hissed angrily. “It does not matter how many trinkets and non-magical work-arounds the muggles have made, regardless of how incredible you find them. Their ‘science’ is not on trial here, you are, for exposing muggles to magic!”

“Minister, you do know my students are all muggle borns,” Mrs. Frizzle said, perhaps a touch angrily, her usual enthusiasm for science replaced by an anger at tech marvels being referred to as ‘trinkets’. 

“They’re not the only ones who have seen your…Magic Bus!” Fudge roared, slamming his fist on the podium and eliciting a dull rumble of approval from the Wizengamot. “Mrs. Frizzle, since you have failed to mount a defense, we will now take a vote. All in favor of conviction?” 

A sea of hands shot into the air. 

“All opposed?” 

2 or 3 hands were placed waveringly in the air, then quickly fell. 

“Mrs. Frizzle, you are found guilty of 232 counts of breaking the Statute of Secrecy. The wand you surrendered upon entering the Ministry will be kept, and you are fined in the amount of 1,160 galleons. If you cannot pay this fine, you will be given a job on low level staff or doing community service until such time as the debt is paid. Good day.” Fudge closed her file and handed it the the Junior Undersecretary, who ferried it back to the Hall of Records. 

Mrs. Frizzle stomped out, angry but not ready to give up. Luckily for her, they hadn’t taken her backup wand. She had classes tomorrow, after all, and they couldn’t very well explore the world of pollen without a proper shrinking charm. She made a mental note to stop by her cousin Xenophillius’ house to pick up her backup to her backup. She loved his house. Shaped like a chess peice, can you imagine?

This is why the Wizarding World of Harry Potter is just so…..dumb.

I think you’re all forgetting the obvious… Mary Poppins.

“Back again, Mary?” Dumbledore twinkled at the woman in the
felt hat standing ramrod straight in front of the chair in the pit. She’d
always been one of his favourite students.

Keep reading
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I work at an archery shop this is our christmas tree

Clint, no

Clint, yes!

@copperbadge, Barton Christmas tree, y/y?


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