Fear is a goldmine for growth and the only time we stagnate is when the cushiness of our comfort zone becomes our reality for too long and we stop looking out beyond what feels possible. Lean into your fear, take action, screw up every now and then and celebrate the fact you’re grabbing the life you were born to live with both hands.
- Rachel Magahy (via purplebuddhaproject)
via  purplebuddhaproject  (originally  purplebuddhaproject)
3 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 10:12pm 830 notes

queenbroslob:

laina:

weloveshortvideos:

Got my j’s on

NOOOOO

I showed this to everyone at work that would give me the time of day.

via  daavenrey  (originally  weloveshortvideos)
4 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 9:24pm 113,726 notes
via  jeffreeeyte  (originally  durianseeds)
5 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 8:36pm 204,586 notes
The mind is everything. What you think you become.
- Buddha   (via quoteessential)
via  ccyanblue  (originally  quoteessential)
6 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 7:48pm 2,466 notes
via  the-ice-prince  (originally  baelor)
6 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 7:00pm 400,455 notes
via  dayvidnewyen  (originally  gaytemple)
7 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 6:12pm 17,467 notes
via  the-absolute-best-posts  (originally  generalelectric)
8 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 5:24pm 294,958 notes

baracknobama:

theres this kid in my maths class who can recite pi to 720 digits

and im there like image

via  the-ice-prince  (originally  baracknobama)
9 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 4:36pm 306,541 notes
via  youknoitstravis  (originally  sexanax)
10 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 3:48pm 96,368 notes

Happy Birthday Hermione Jean Granger (19 September, 1979)

via  callmekev  (originally  harrypottergif)
15 hours ago on 19 September 2014 | 10:00am 4,866 notes
Try to be a rainbow in someone’s cloud.
- Maya Angelou
via  purplebuddhaproject  (originally  purplebuddhaproject)
1 day ago on 18 September 2014 | 10:12pm 1,012 notes

meanplastic:

seeing someone from school in public

via  the-ice-prince  (originally  meanplastic)
1 day ago on 18 September 2014 | 9:24pm 43,161 notes
via  paper-shuriken  (originally  akiashi)
1 day ago on 18 September 2014 | 8:36pm 48,830 notes
lordadammudman:

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 they’re 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 significant other 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.)

But that’s why some of them went back, right? Neville became the Herbology professor there. Harry went back to give lectures. And don’t tell me that Ron, Hermione, Luna, all those others didn’t at least go back to visit. And I can imagine them encouraging those students who lost hope to not give up—to remember the sacrifices that were made so things could be good again, and to not think of those sacrifices as just being another part of a horrible war machine. Sure, there had to have been some people who only saw the darkness in all of it. But if Harry’s generation could stand up against Voldemort and what he stood for after the world broke apart a little bit when his parents’ generation had their war, then there’s still hope that the new kids could stand up against what Voldemort’s evil left behind.

lordadammudman:

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 they’re 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 significant other 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.)

But that’s why some of them went back, right? Neville became the Herbology professor there. Harry went back to give lectures. And don’t tell me that Ron, Hermione, Luna, all those others didn’t at least go back to visit. And I can imagine them encouraging those students who lost hope to not give up—to remember the sacrifices that were made so things could be good again, and to not think of those sacrifices as just being another part of a horrible war machine. Sure, there had to have been some people who only saw the darkness in all of it. But if Harry’s generation could stand up against Voldemort and what he stood for after the world broke apart a little bit when his parents’ generation had their war, then there’s still hope that the new kids could stand up against what Voldemort’s evil left behind.

via  itskhaixd  (originally  thelethifoldwitch)
1 day ago on 18 September 2014 | 7:48pm 75,278 notes
via  princeofseattle  (originally  nodaybutlatte)
1 day ago on 18 September 2014 | 7:00pm 113,199 notes