All my favourite characters die. Usually. My name is [REDACTED]. I'm [SUBJECT AGE HERE] years old, and I live in [SUBJECT HOMETOWN HERE].

[ SIDEBLOG: amfd-rebagels-music.tumblr.com ]

This blog is: 50% fandom, 30% random stuff that everyone reblogs because it's funny somehow, 5% social justice (because people make good points about stuff), 5% my own failed posts, and 10% things such as music, art references, and writing references.

 

blackout-escapist:

bagmilk:

*concerned white parent voice* sweetie don’t write on yourself you can get ink poisoning

image

(Source: heteroh)

xcuteikinz:

gryffindorgeek7777:

mad-piper-with-a-box:

thetomska:

giddytf2:

the-last-teabender:

Robin Thicke is unapologetic about how rapey ‘Blurred Lines’ is, meanwhile the dude who parodied it issues a public apology for one word.

And that is just one reason why I love Weird Al.

It’s great that he’s addressed this but are we really supposed to believe that NO ONE during the extremely lengthy processes of writing a song, recording it, mastering it and animating the music video wouldn’t have brought it up?

Excuse me but how the hell is spastic even remotely insulting?

So I just recently learned that in the UK calling someone spastic means the same thing as calling someone retarded, only much worse.
If it makes people in the UK feel any better, people in the US literally do not know this (like literally no one I have ever met and/or know). Here being spastic is usually meant to mean something along the lines of acting like a hyper-active child (like running around in circles yelling just because they feel like it please be quiet for just 2 minutes type of child). NOBODY here uses it as a slur.
Since Weird Al is a US musician and the US music industry is pretty non-international, yeah actually I think its entirely possible that none of the people who worked on this song actually knew that spastic was considered an awful slur in some parts of the world.
And I’m like 99.9999% sure that Weird Al is genuinely very sorry that he was accidentally offensive.

^^^^^

xcuteikinz:

gryffindorgeek7777:

mad-piper-with-a-box:

thetomska:

giddytf2:

the-last-teabender:

Robin Thicke is unapologetic about how rapey ‘Blurred Lines’ is, meanwhile the dude who parodied it issues a public apology for one word.

And that is just one reason why I love Weird Al.

It’s great that he’s addressed this but are we really supposed to believe that NO ONE during the extremely lengthy processes of writing a song, recording it, mastering it and animating the music video wouldn’t have brought it up?

Excuse me but how the hell is spastic even remotely insulting?

So I just recently learned that in the UK calling someone spastic means the same thing as calling someone retarded, only much worse.

If it makes people in the UK feel any better, people in the US literally do not know this (like literally no one I have ever met and/or know). Here being spastic is usually meant to mean something along the lines of acting like a hyper-active child (like running around in circles yelling just because they feel like it please be quiet for just 2 minutes type of child). NOBODY here uses it as a slur.

Since Weird Al is a US musician and the US music industry is pretty non-international, yeah actually I think its entirely possible that none of the people who worked on this song actually knew that spastic was considered an awful slur in some parts of the world.

And I’m like 99.9999% sure that Weird Al is genuinely very sorry that he was accidentally offensive.

^^^^^

fantasticallyficticious:

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.
Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.
They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.
“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.
“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”
If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.
Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.
~
The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.
This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.
Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 
The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.
~
The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.
They were worried they would have to be kind.
They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.
Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.
Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.
(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

THIS WAS SO STINKIN CUTE EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ THIS


H

fantasticallyficticious:

livesandliesofwizards:

At twilight on August the 25th 1999, one week before classes were to begin, Hermione Granger Apparated into Hogsmeade, a wand box clutched under her arm.

Headmistress McGonagall was waiting for her outside the Three Broomsticks. The two women greeted each other warmly, and then set off towards the castle. Or rather, towards the grounds outside the castle.

They chatted amiably as they strolled towards the groundskeeper’s hut.  Hagrid, sitting outside and darning a pair of enormous socks, looked up as they approached.

“Good evenin’ Headmistress, Hermione,” he said with some gruff surprise.

“Good evening, Hagrid,” replied McGonagall. “May we go inside?  I believe Hermione has a proposition to discuss with you.”

If you had stood outside the hut as the evening darkened and the stars rose into the sky, you’d have heard the rumblings of an argument coming from inside the hut. You’d have heard Hagrid’s gruff refusals, Hermione’s calm (and then not so calm) rebuttals, and the very occasional interjection of the Headmistress.

Hermione did not emerge until the moon had fully risen and darkness enveloped the grounds. But in the light of the nearly full moon, you could see a smile on her face.

~

The Shrieking Shack was no longer widely believed to be haunted, now that the story of Remus Lupin was fully known.  Still, the residents of Hogsmeade and Hogwarts avoided it out of a mixture of respect and residual fear.

This suited Hermione perfectly. The interior of the Shack was now stacked with books and bottles of potion ingredients. A cauldron sat in the corner, a telescope pointed out a cracked window, and cushions lined one wall. A table was covered in parchment, broken quills, ink pots and stains. Once a week, Hermione would apparate into the Shack and go over her notes from the previous session while she awaited her student’s arrival.

Sometimes he was late without explanation. Sometimes he would bring a wounded bowtruckle he wasn’t comfortable leaving on its own.  Sometimes Fang would follow him and sit in the corner whining while his master sweated and cursed over a cauldron. Hermione was calm but firm, making adjustments as needed and letting Hagrid’s frustrated words roll off her back like water droplets. 

The Hogsmeade residents may have turned a blind eye to the goings-on in the Shrieking Shack, but that didn’t mean they weren’t relieved as time went on and there were fewer and fewer roars of anger echoing through the village.

~

The OWL testers had been warned in advance that they would have an unusual student that year. That didn’t mean they weren’t taken aback when Rubeus Hagrid appeared on their testing scrolls. They all knew of him of course, knew the role he played in the Second War and of the false accusations leveled against him.

They were worried they would have to be kind.

They needn’t have. No one could have Hermione Granger teach them personally for a year and not improve in all aspects. His potions may not have been textbook perfection, he may not have fully transfigured his toad, but Hagrid had clearly worked hard to master his long dormant abilities.

Rubeus Hagrid may not have followed the traditional path to wisdom.  But he had a new wand, the (sometimes grudging) respect of his peers, classes to teach and 6 OWLs.

Including the highest score ever recorded on Care of Magical Creatures.

(written and submitted by ppyajunebug; please excuse me, because I have something in my eye. Oh yes, it is my joyful tears. ppyajunebug has a way of bringing those out of me, you see. Their submissions tackle some of the saddest moments in canon, turning them around and making something beautiful out of them.)

THIS WAS SO STINKIN CUTE EVERYONE STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING AND READ THIS

H

vivianvivisection:

jonesdavid813:

h0llo:

Putting on makeup is such a spiritual experience I watch myself go from a 3 to a 9 right in front of my mirror I love it

no, if you are putting on makeup, I don’t care who you are or what you look like, you go from about a 10 to 1

keep talking shit you gonna go from a basic ass 2 to a 6-feet-under

percyjacksonandbooksusalliwant:

beckendorph:

i have a headcanon that annabeth does gymnastics and her instructor is like “wow annabeth! if you get any better you could be an olympian!” and its like a camera zoom on her face and shes likeimageeheheheeheheh…ehehehe…eheh…eh

The mortals don’t even know

tinysteve:

dr erskine said he chose steve for the serum because of his kindness and courage to cover for the fact he read steve’s enlistment form and realized this fucker’s birthday is the fourth of july