Professional goofball.

riddlemarvolo:

“Harry Potter has to go into the lake and find his Wheezy—”
“Find my what?”
“—and take his Wheezy back from the merpeople!”
“What’s a Wheezy?”
“Your Wheezy, sir, your Wheezy—Wheezy who is giving Dobby his jumper!”
Dobby plucked at the shrunken maroon sweater he was now wearing over his shorts.
“What?” Harry gasped. “They’ve got… they’ve got Ron?”
“The thing Harry Potter will miss the most, sir!” squeaked Dobby.

johnmulaneysgf:

rawest fucking hozier lyrics in no particular order:

  • i’d suffer hell if you’d tell me what you’d do to me tonight
  • heat of her breath in my mouth; im alive
  • i’d be the choiceless hope in grief that drove him underground
  • idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword
  • and when the earth is trembling on some new beginning with the same sweet shock of when adam first came
  • every version of me dead and buried in the yard outside
  • the stench of the sea and the absence of green are the death of all things that are seen and unseen
  • if I was born as a blackthorn tree i’d wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies
  • some like to imagine the dark caress of someone else, I guess any thrill will do
  • before the wave hits, marveling at god; before he feels alone one final time and marries the sea
  • betray the moon as acolyte on first and fierce affirming sight
  • i have never known peace like the damp grass that yields to me, I have never known hunger like these insects that feast on me
  • screaming the name of a foreigner’s god; the purest expression of grief
  • sweet and right and merciful, i’m all but washed in the tide of her breathing
  • but you don’t know the hell you put me through; to have someone kiss the skin that crawls from you
  • so i try to talk refined for fear that you find out how i’m imagining you
  • my head was war, my skin was soaked, I called your name ‘til the fever broke
  • be still, my indelible friend, you are unbreaking
  • remember me, love, when i’m reborn as a shrike to your sharp and glorious thorn

ralts:

Christmas was coming. One morning in mid-December, Hogwarts woke to find itself covered in several feet of snow. The lake froze solid and the Weasley twins were punished for bewitching several snowballs so that they followed Quirrell around, bouncing off the back of his turban. The few owls that managed to battle their way through the stormy sky to deliver mail had to be nursed back to health by Hagrid before they could fly off again.

stark:

The hall looked spectacular. Festoons of holly and mistletoe hung all around the walls, and no less than twelve towering Christmas trees stood around the room, some sparkling with tiny icicles, some glittering with hundreds of candles.