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@aconfusedarmadillo
(◡‿◡✿)
(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”
(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”
✿＼(｡-_-｡) “Kick his ass, baby. I got yo flower.”
i found it
the original post
i found it
this should have the opportunity to be on everyone’s blog.
I hope you guys are happy. You have no idea about the lengths I went to to find this post and get it on my blog.
Everyone on this post is deactivated, this is like finding a fossil
dc literally has better villains than marvel because marvel antagonists are always like “i wear ALL BLACK and THREE PIECE SUITS and i kill people because i’m SAD inside” meanwhile everyone in gotham just be off the shits and have an actual aesthetic and presentation
The villain’s in Gotham are better because no one can out do Bruce Wayne in “i wear ALL BLACK and THREE PIECE SUITS and i beat up people because i’m SAD inside” so they had to come up with something else.
this is the only response anyone is allowed to put on this post actually
you have been visited by the seven magic dragon balls your biggest wish will be granted but only if you reblog
Couldn’t risk it.
didn’t realize they change colors. now I know o gotta wish.
THIS SHIT IS REAL I GOT THE JOB I WAS NUTS ABOUT BC I REBLOGGED THIS YESTERDAY maybe it’s a coinkidink but it okay just take the necessary steps to achieve what you’re wishing for and YOU CAN DO IT
Just like Slughorn, Albus Dumbledore collects people. Only, instead of focusing on those with influence, he looks to the outcasts.
The expelled half-giant. The young werewolf. The repentant Death Eater.
He protects them and gives them a second chance. All he asks in return is their loyalty.
And, if on occasion he requests that they undertake a certain task, invoking their debt of gratitude - well, that is no more than he is owed.
He once thought to add a certain disowned Black to his collection, but quickly realised his mistake.
Sirius is not an outcast, but a rebel. He knowingly chose his path, and chooses what price he is willing to pay for it. He refuses to be used.
So Albus Dumbledore abandons him.
Who gave you the RIGHT?
Dumbledore knows Sirius’s loyalty lies with Harry instead of him, and he has no use for someone who is not willing to follow his orders without question.
Ooooohoo if there’s ever a post that fits my aesthetic…
okay but then where does Harry himself fit into this collection? Is he an outcast because he is “the Boy Who Lived”?
Nooonono, my friend, that’s what makes this post so beautiful. Because it fits the meta I’ve been trying to get people to accept for years.
Harry was an outcast due to a childhood filled with abuse and neglect.
Vernon made him an outcast by dismissing his claims of magic, berating him, locking him in a CLOSET and putting bars on his window, and let’s face it, even though her editor made her cut it out, Jo intended for there to be physical abuse.
Petunia made him an outcast by enabling and contributing to this abuse, as well as making Harry do dozens of chores while doting on Dudley.
Dudley made him an outcast by bullying him and threatening any students at school who wanted to be his friends.
And the rest of the wizarding world made him an outcast when they bullied him for being an outsider.
Harry James Potter became an outcast the moment he was placed with The Dursleys.
And who put him there in the first place?
I’m here for this Anti-Dumbledore discussion.
This makes even more sense when you consider why Dumbledore deliberately made Harry an outcast.
Think about it What would Harry have been like if he had grown up in the wizarding world? Or, to put it another way, what would Harry have been like if he had grown up in a world where magic was the norm?
He would have taken magic for granted. He would have been less likely (especially as he got older) to view Dumbledore as a wise mentor and more likely to see him as flawed and capable of bad decisions. He would have seen both the world and Dumbledore as ordinary, with their good points and bad points.
But Dumbledore didn’t need a well-adjusted boy who took magic and the magical world for granted. He needed a child who would love the magical world unstintingly, even irrationally, because it was a haven from neglect and abuse. Even more, he needed a child who feared this world becoming evil and who therefore would not question someone that he saw as the ultimate authority, especially if he believed that obeying that authority would keep the world safe.
Even if obedience meant his own death.
Dumbledore wanted a martyr who would die for the wizarding world, because he believed that Voldemort could not die until Harry did. Which was why he left Harry with the Dursleys and let them neglect and emotionally abuse him for the next ten years.
To get a martyr, he first had to create a victim.
well… well, shit
Oh shit. Its been updated.
…I’ve been in the “Dumbledore was on the darker side of morally grey” camp for years but this…this. Holy shit. Oh no.
thank god Barack Obama and Hillary Clinton came together to make a PSA about the dangers of fake news
I can’t believe Bill Gates got 546 shares but only 4 likes.
I love genuinely innocent “boys will be boys.” Just saw a guy come out of a frat house to poke a pair of jeans they’d left outside - they were frozen solid, and as soon as he confirmed that, like twenty more boys came rushing out of the house going “YOOOOOOOOOO”
I heard grunting outside my window the other night and there were four boys struggling to push this giant snowball (like 7 foot diameter) down the sidewalk.
I once lost my keys at a frat house.
My drunk ass had actually walked home without them, pounded on my apartment door, gotten let in by my rightfully-disgruntled roommate, and proceeded to pass out on the couch. Apparently I puked in the toilet before passing out. I do not remember this part.
The next morning, I schlepped back to the frat house. I stood there, right in front of the front door. This was a novel experience for me. I’d never been at a frat house in broad daylight before.
A boy, presumably, of the house, asked me what I was doing.
“I lost my keys in here last night,” I called back. “I was seeing if I could go in and look for them?”
He opened the door and gestured for me to come in.
“Go wherever you want.”
I’d never seen a frat house post-party before. Wandering up the stairs and through the halls, I was surrounded by hungover and still-drunk frat boys stumbling around in their socks and sandals and gym shorts, seeking out food and showers like moths to a porch light. A few of them threw puzzled glances my way. I’m sure they thought I was some post-bacchanalia hallucination.
I entered one room where a boy was drunkenly watching some Old Yeller-esque movie on a tiny TV in the corner of his room from his bed.
“Do you like dog movies?” he asked, voice all mumbly from grogginess and also from the fact that his face was squished against his pillow and half-buried by his blanket.
I told him I did.
He mumbled again, pleased, and asked what I was doing. I told him I was looking for my keys.
“Sorry, I haven’t seen any keys around here.”
I didn’t doubt him.
Twenty minutes had passed. I’d searched just about every bedroom and nuclear-waste-dump-site of a bathroom in that house. I’d given up on ever finding my keys and was prepared to beg my roommates’ forgiveness and get a new set copied.
As I stood there in the hallway, silently bewailing my predicament, a particularly-burly frat boy approached me.
“You need help with something?”
“I lost my keys here last night and I can’t find them, I’ve looked everywhere.”
“What do they look like? I’ll put it into the group chat.” He was already pulling out his phone.
No one ever checks a group chat, I thought, but what the hell. It was worth a shot. “Um, it’s just a ring of keys. The keychain is a pink plastic cat, though, like yea big. Like bright pink, you can’t miss it.”
He nodded, presumably typing this description faithfully into the group chat.
“Alright, I sent the message out. Good luck.”
And with that, he turned and left.
A few moments later, I heard a distant thundering. It was coming from upstairs, and it was getting louder and louder. One assumes that how I felt in that moment was how Simba felt seeing the wildebeest stampede through the ravine as a horde of large young men all thundered down the stairs, making a beeling for me.
“Someone tell the girl!” One of them shouted, faceless in the mob. “Girl! Hey, GIRL!!! We found your keys, girl!!!”
They circled around me. I hadn’t felt that small since I was maybe eleven years old. One of them split himself off from the crowd.
“Are these -” he pulled out a ring of keys from his pocket, “your keys?”
And lo, there was the distinctive bright millennial pink cat keychain dangling off the ring.
“Yes,” I whispered. “Oh my god, yes.”
“EYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY!!!”
The cheer went up.
Turns out he found them in the bathroom upstairs. I thanked them again profusely. There was a scattered round of “no problems” and then, just as suddenly as they descended, they all dispersed, like ships in the night.
is matt mercer fucking ok
Wait they have a mansion?
That was likely right after Scientology bought half the company.
Excuse me
Can we talk about how in zombie shows/movies/books they always find a veterinarian and not a surgeon? Are veterinarians deemed more likely to survive the apocalypse?
Yup.
One of our professional skills is ‘not being bitten by patients’
We actually have a good broad knowledge base for both surgical, medical, and GP things
We’re used to improvising equipment because a lot of stuff is just not made for animals
Meat safety is part of our training
Our cars are often full of equipment, especially in mixed practice
We probably weren’t in the human hospital at the initial outbreak
This post is deemed culturally, historically, or aesthetically significant as certified by the National Shitpost Registry.
can i just rave about how much i love grog strongjaw for a sec?
i know he’s often treated as a joke character (even travis downplays his characterization a lot) and he’s generally seen/treated as a simple, unemotional brute but like….. he cares so much??? he loves people so deeply??? he has so much compassion and his emotional intelligence is a lvl 35 if you ask me
he began from a place of deep compassion. he was beaten and left for dead by the herd, all because he stopped them from attacking wilhand, a gnome he didn’t know. and then he was embraced by pike, who taught him a lot about true friendship and family and love and he just grew from there.
grog is the one who makes sure reginald’s daughter is found, freed and told about her deceased father. grog is the one who urges them to go to draconia to try and help the survivors. grog is the one who doesn’t argue with scanlan about his feelings, but simply asks, “what’s your mother’s name?” and tells him, “i’m sorry i didn’t know that.” honestly, grog is the only one who understood scanlan in that moment (maybe because grog, too, is often disregarded within the group).
GROG. IS. A. SWEET. LOVING. BOY who deserves the world.
$50,000 immediately dropped into my bank account wouldn't improve EVERYTHING but boy it sure would be a grand, sexy little start to a good, happy life path, don't you think
Reblog for unexpected $$$ dropping into your Bank account.
yes.
Wasn’t this bitch in they house?!?!?
^^^ literally America
it’s a cold and it’s a broken hollaback girl
It goes like this, the B the A,
The minor N, and the major A,
The baffled queen composing “It’s bananas”
I’d heard, that you, were talkin shit
And didn’t, think, that I’d hear it
oh good to know the tumblr staff team has gone completely insane
sir im gonna need to see your male nipple license
sir that is my emotional support female nipple
I used to have geese so here’s a tip for everyone:
If a goose is attacking you, don’t run. No matter what, stand your ground. They can fly but when they’re mad, they don’t usually try to fly. Hold your hands in front of you, ready to grasp. When the goose gets close, grab it by the neck bit closest to the head and squeeze. Not tight enough to choke the goose, but tight enough so they can’t break free. You can hold them until they calm down or just do the next step right away. The next step is literally just to chuck them as far as possible and run for your life. It makes the goose know you’re in charge and you have a better chance of getting away. Trust me I’ve done this so many times that I’ve lost count
I can’t tell if this is a shitpost or actual advice. But I do know geese are the fucking worst.
Actual advice! Just yeet a goose
every time I use “they” to refer to a single gender-unknown person on Tumblr, another piece of my grammar-filled heart shatters, and the pieces scatter at the bottom of hell
“They” has been a singular pronoun for hundreds of years, you melodramatic dipshit.
well… actually… no… they is plural. people use they when they should use he, she, or it.
dense motherfucker, the pronoun “they” is an english equivalent for the third person indefinite singular and has been for literally centuries. it remains morphologically and syntactically plural therefore you don’t need to shit your little pantaloons at compromising your surely rock solid grammar rules.
i guarantee every fuckin time you’ve ever had to refer to a person of an unknown gender you’ve used “they” subconsciously. (“The post clerk gave me a message for you.” “Oh, what did they say?”) but you only have a problem with it when people specify it as a pronoun for themselves because you’re a shitlord i fuckin guess.
grammarized straight into hell
I remember someone posted an article once about how during victorian times i think the tuberculosis “look” became the new beauty ideal for women, like unhealthily skinny, pale skin, glowing (with sweat due to fever), rosy cheeks, etc and i for real think about that almost every day because its like. We never had a chance lmao
https://www.smithsonianmag.com/science-nature/how-tuberculosis-shaped-victorian-fashion-180959029/
The deadly disease—and later efforts to control it—influenced trends for decades
DUDE I DID A WHOLE PAPER ON THIS. It was a huge Romantic fad for both men and women. It was considered specifically the poet’s disease (the umbrella “artist’s disease” was syphilis, so many composers had it holy shit, it was probs why Beethoven went deaf) and women and poets were seen as especially susceptible because of their sensitivity specifically, not necessarily miasma. It got to the point of popularity where a good poet and handsome man were both consumptive that none other than Lord Byron once wrote to a friend that he wished he had it cause then he would get all the ladies. Alexandre Dumas wrote about the same thing when he was remembering his youth in Paris. This wasn’t just England, it was all over Western Europe. (Also fun to look at: the treatments and prescriptions given by doctors to cure tb, I ended up banging my head against the wall when I was researching it)
