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In The Darkness Bind Them
I'm Rebecca, this is a multi fandom blog, I have the same birthday as Draco Lucius Malfoy, and I'm a NerdFighter from Toronto, Canada who has been Sherlocked.

Currently in love with Sebastian Stan and Erika Linder.

Personal blog link bellow: it's about music, books, writing, art, fashion, photography; Stuff I like.

The Dean to my Castiel
The Sherlock to my John
The Derek to my Stiles
August 18th
10:15 AM
Via
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

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

meowgon:

kinginthewest:

it’s just like, why are there cat emojis for loads of emotions as well as normal humans emojis

image

like, when do i need to express these emotions… but as a cat

they’re not for you… they’re for ME

image

August 9th
10:00 PM
Via

lilbijou:

xwatchmerise:

merosse:

If u see a guy with long hair he’s either gorgeous or fucking weird and the answer lays in what type of shoe he’s wearing

This is the best post I’ve ever read

i love this post

spidey-cents:

archangel223:

That’ll be 10 groot please. 

In Groot We Trust

spidey-cents:

archangel223:

That’ll be 10 groot please. 

In Groot We Trust

July 29th
10:27 PM
Via

p0kemina:

builttobulk:

secretlyybroken:

Weight should be like virginity.
Once you lose it you can’t get it back.

Ohhhh. I thought you were gonna say “Weight should be like virginity: a societal ideal by which we shouldn’t measure our personal worth.”

B A M

a message from Anonymous


Shut the fuck up about 50 shades of grey. No one fucking cares

myheartbelongstoabarricadeboy:

winchesterinengland:

oh hun

let me just give you a quick run down of all the things wrong with this ask:

1-you assume i care what some asshole anon has to say when i have 300 pounds and i’m going kikass birthday shopping today

2-you assume id care about some asshole anon any other day of the year

3-i care about the 50 shades of grey thing. and whether you do or not is irrelevant to me because you are, after all, just an asshole anon

4- this is my blog and i’ll post whatever the fuck i want, if you cant take three fucking posts about something without turning into a soggy cum stained dishrag then i suggest you make use of that unfollow button because youre gross

5- lemme break this down for you

if you dont care about this 50 shades situation, you need to grow the fuck up and look at the facts

the fact is the book was so misinformed that all the practises about bdsm culture were ignored and shit all over.

he ignores the safeword

he legitimately rapes her

he never explains everything about bdsm culture to her, shes so misinformed its ridiculous

and all of this is going even more public than it already has and its being romanticised and released on valentines day 

like “happy valentines honey! i bought some ropes i dont actually know how to tie and a whip i dont actually know how to use and i’m going to just gloss over the fact you’re uncomfortable because that clearly doesnt matter!”

incorrect use of a whip can cause organ failure

incorrect knots used on wristst or feet can literally cause them to need to be amputated

its perpetuating rape culture in ways ive never seen it be advanced to this leve; and if you dont care then youre truly disgusting 

you dont care about the kids not fully understanding their sexuality being abused by older people who they think are totally allowed to do this shit?

you dont care about the people that will be raped because of this because hey apparently rape is sexy?

you dont care about the fact that the bdsm culture is, once again, being portrayed as people who are fucked up and must have been abused to be that way rather than normal people who enjoy a kink in their own homes?

you dont care about the fact that youre not supposed to bleed on your first time. ever. and now tons more girls are going to think that its completely normal? that tons more guys will? that tons of people are going to think its expected for the female to bleed when SHE WONT IF SHES BEEN SUFFICIENTLY TURNED ON AND STRETCHED ITS REALLY NOT THAT HARD

you dont care about the stereotype of subs not actually enjoying bdsm culture is being widespread? that all subs dislike it and simply have an ulterior motive?

you dont care about the underlying message of the book being “a woman should give everything, including herself, to a man”?

you dont care about all the people in abusive relationships that will think “oh well this must be normal then” and stay there?

christian grey is a run-of-the-mill abusive boyfriend. he isnt a dom. 

a dom loves his/her sub completely and the motto of bdsm is "safe, willing and sane" (or something like that anyone feel free to correct me)

it means that both partners have to be completely willing, with boundaries, safewords and everything worked out before they even think about touching eachother intimately. 

if something is a boundary, you dont fucking do it

that simple

if the safeword is used it stops. everything stops

that simple

a dom should treat his sub like a goddamn princess (unless they have prearranged and understand that he wont eg-pet play, slave play where anything outside of the bedroom is also in the same dynamic HOWEVER IT IS STILL CONSENSUAL SO IT IS STILL OKAY)

a dom is not christian grey

but millions of people are going to think he is and are going to think that thats the way bdsm should be and they’ll get involved in something very dangerous if they dont have the real facts.

that people will think its romantic because this shit is scheduled for valentines day  to treat your partner like shit, abuse her, and that what? getting them off absorbs you of all your shit? no. this is so fucking gross and im not taking a backseat when this shit happens

so in conclusion

literally fuck you, you insensitive fuck stain, this issue is so fucking important.

Important

sometimes it’s really hard not to hate this country.

July 21st
1:29 PM
Via
1:26 PM
Via

Aaron Johnson by Kristian Taylor-Wood

Aaron Johnson by Kristian Taylor-Wood