“It was with Esther that the Nerdfighter community came together and helped the Harry Potter Alliance win 250,000 dollars. And Hank, it was because of Esther that on Esther Day I told you that I love you (which I do, although I don’t want to talk about it). And even though Esther has died we will continue to do projects with her. Because it will be when we work to decrease World Suck and when we show our love for others that Esther will be with us most.”
Happy birthday, Esther <3
Happy Esther Day, tumblypoos!
(Source: harryjamespotter, via fascistrevolution)
My fellow Americans, come November we must choose to elect either a gay cactus or a lying unicorn.
Oh and both of them are the antichrist.
(via fascistrevolution)
“The wand chooses the wizard… it’s not always clear why.”
I always imagined that all wands looked roughly the same, maybe slightly different colors, but certainly not all those different, carefully constructed, unique, designs. I think of them as more utilitarian. Though I see the appeal of a unique design for every witch and wizard, it seems impractical, especially since they only cost seven galleons and a unicorn hair can cost up to 10 galleons. It doesn’t seem to be good business for Ollivander.
Tread lightly, she is near
Under the snow,
Speak gently, she can hear
The daisies grow.
All her bright golden hair
Tarnished with rust,
She that was young and fair
Fallen to dust.
Lily-like, white as snow,
She hardly knew
She was a woman, so
Sweetly she grew.
Coffin-board, heavy stone,
Lie on her breast,
I vex my heart alone,
She is at rest.
Peace, peace, she cannot hear
Lyre or sonnet,
All my life’s buried here,
Heap earth upon it.(submitted by joelpublic)
I knock at the stone’s front door.
“It’s only me, let me come in.
I want to enter your insides,
have a look round,
breathe my fill of you.”
“Go away,” says the stone.
“I’m shut tight.
Even if you break me to pieces,
we’ll all still be closed.
You can grind us to sand,
we still won’t let…
I ask them to take a poem
and hold it up to the light
like a color slideor press an ear against its hive.
I say drop a mouse into a poem
and watch him probe his way out,or walk inside the poem’s room
and feel the walls for a light switch.I want them to water-ski
across the surface of a poem
He is a god in my eyes, that man,
Given to sit in front of you
And close to himself sweetly to hear
The sound of you speaking.Your magical laugh—this I swear—
Batters my heart—my breast astir—
My voice when I see you suddenly near
Refuses to come.My tongue breaks up and a delicate fire
Runs…
Just thinking of him can put a smile on my face. What am I going to do? He said he won’t enter a realtionship, I think he is just scared. He seems to flirt but he never fully commits. He hangs with a girl who likes to minipulate people for fun. Any suggestions?
