The Little Ludwig

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86,473 notes

sherlockbringthejam:

vhanstiel:

klynneb:

grimmspeight:

zellabellamellawella:

neraiutsuze:

amorremanet:

#yeah ok #you ”like the pizza” #right right #death lbr you just have a huge dumb soft spot for dean winchester like 85 miles wide #and wanna spoil him rotten #oh you want your brother’s soul back? #welllll i don’t usually do things like this but omg pls i’ll make an exception for you dean #dean i don’t like it when people try to bind me and make me kill rampaging angels #but i’ll let you off the hook this time because i like you so much #hm okay chicago can stay since you ask #because i ~like the pizza #DEATH PLS YOU JUST LIKE DEAN (via chainedtocastiel)

 

DEATH TRIES TO STEP UP AND BE HIS FATHER FIGURE

OHMYGOSH

Death X Dean is my BroTP

OMG, how sad is that? The fandom’s gone and made Death a father figure to Dean. Freaking DEATH people. I just can’t anymore.

I don’t even have to mention the fact that 

1) He gave Dean an opportunity by assigning Dean a duty
2) So that Dean could learn
3) When Dean failed, he didn’t punish or called the agreement off
4) He just taught Dean more and finally retrieved Sam’s soul for Dean

So, yeah. Death has a soft spot for Dean. After God has been missing for years, who else has the nerve to step up to him? 

Maybe it was all those times he randomly died on that Tuesday.

(Source: casterley, via dusk-illusionist)

42,581 notes

eraofstories:

haaretz:

At least three dead in two shootings at Jewish centers in Kansas. 15-year-old boy reported to be critically wounded; police report one person was in custody; man reportedly yelled ‘Heil Hitler’ when police arrested him.

Click here for the full story and breaking developments

Reblogging again to add: 

Also, non-Jews, please spread this. People will forget about it otherwise. The police say they aren’t ready to call it a hate crime, despite the fact that witnesses have said that the man was asking people if they were Jewish and waiting for an affirmative response before shooting. The more people who are paying attention to this story the harder it will be for it to be swept under the rug. 

A lot of people are currently very excited about the recent Cap movie. If you believe that it was worthwhile for Steve Rogers to fight fictional nazis, please show that you care about the people harmed by those in the real world who still agree with Nazi ideology. If you can get super excited and make tons of posts about Cap, then you can do this too, right? (obviously there are people who are upset/triggered by this stuff, which is an entirely different situation. but if you can spread the word please do)

(via bookswillbemylife)

424,951 notes

macabrekawaii:

dualscar:

captainexposition:

shermansgallifreyan:

oxboxer:

feferipixies:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

everythingis19:

cosmicsyzygy:

Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!

DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING
I NEVER REALIZED

are you serious
I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.
FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD
YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD

can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too
like voldemort couldnt even do that shit
molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that
who are you

Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!
PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT

Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.
Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.
“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“
Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.
“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”
Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.
Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”
“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”
Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”
“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.
“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”
“What’s yer point?”
“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”
“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”
Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”
And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.
“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.
••••••••
Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…

This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.
“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.
“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”
Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”
“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”
Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.
“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”
The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”

IT GOT BETTER

I am done, this is the end of the world, it’s all downhill from here

macabrekawaii:

dualscar:

captainexposition:

shermansgallifreyan:

oxboxer:

feferipixies:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

everythingis19:

cosmicsyzygy:

Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!

DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING

I NEVER REALIZED

are you serious

I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.

FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD

YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD

can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too

like voldemort couldnt even do that shit

molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that

who are you

Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!

PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT

Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.

Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.

“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“

Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.

“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”

Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.

Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”

“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”

Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”

“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.

“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”

“What’s yer point?”

“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”

“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”

Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”

And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.

“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.

••••••••

Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…

This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.

“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.

“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”

Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”

“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”

Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.

“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.

“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”

The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”

IT GOT BETTER

I am done, this is the end of the world, it’s all downhill from here

(via forever-a-couch-potato)

185,980 notes

Urgent security update

support:

Bad news: A major vulnerability has been disclosed for the technology that powers encryption across the majority of the internet. That includes Tumblr. Our team took immediate action to fix the issue, but you should still take some time to change your password, not only here but on any other sites you visit. 

You should also strongly consider enabling two-factor authentication. It’ll go a long way to ensure that no one besides you can access your account. Thanks, and take care.

15,880 notes

absentlyabbie:

shinykari:

legete:

haipollai:

ok, idk how easy this is to read but since everyone is discussing dates, i went to the movie to check. this is steve’s rejection from the beginning, his birthday is in the upper right corner and there’s ANOTHEr date in the lower left which I think is supposed to be a today’s date kind of thing and it looks to be June 14 1943
so there we go, steve enlists in mid 1943

#this feels late for bucky to be enlisting #but that isn’t the issue
How interesting that you would mention this, because I’ve recently been thinking he didn’t enlist. His serial number, which he’s heard muttering when Steve comes to rescue him, starts “32557.”
According to this fabulous WWII serial number generator, an enlisted man from New York should have a serial number starting with the numbers “12.”
A New York man with a serial number starting with “32”? Drafted. What we may be dealing with here is a Bucky who didn’t choose to go to war but was instead compelled to do so versus a Steve who is desperate to get in. I think it opens up a lot of different and interesting storylines for the two of them.

There’s been some great meta/discussion about this in the last couple days, which I think is great.

Makes you wonder if Bucky got the draft, and then, knowing how Steve felt about things, told his best buddy he was “enlisting.” Because how do you face this skinny, brave idiot who just won’t stop trying to volunteer that you wouldn’t be going if you didn’t have to?

absentlyabbie:

shinykari:

legete:

haipollai:

ok, idk how easy this is to read but since everyone is discussing dates, i went to the movie to check. this is steve’s rejection from the beginning, his birthday is in the upper right corner and there’s ANOTHEr date in the lower left which I think is supposed to be a today’s date kind of thing and it looks to be June 14 1943

so there we go, steve enlists in mid 1943

#this feels late for bucky to be enlisting #but that isn’t the issue

How interesting that you would mention this, because I’ve recently been thinking he didn’t enlist. His serial number, which he’s heard muttering when Steve comes to rescue him, starts “32557.”

According to this fabulous WWII serial number generator, an enlisted man from New York should have a serial number starting with the numbers “12.”

A New York man with a serial number starting with “32”? Drafted. What we may be dealing with here is a Bucky who didn’t choose to go to war but was instead compelled to do so versus a Steve who is desperate to get in. I think it opens up a lot of different and interesting storylines for the two of them.

There’s been some great meta/discussion about this in the last couple days, which I think is great.

Makes you wonder if Bucky got the draft, and then, knowing how Steve felt about things, told his best buddy he was “enlisting.” Because how do you face this skinny, brave idiot who just won’t stop trying to volunteer that you wouldn’t be going if you didn’t have to?

(via bookswillbemylife)

94,475 notes

meoplelikepeople:

When I have kids, the rule is going to be, ‘you can be whatever you want to be; a doctor, an artist, a stay-at-home-mom, a stripper, a monk. You can be gay, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, straight and everything in between. You can be a UU, Christian, Hindu, Ba’hai, Atheist, Questioning, whatever. You can be any gender you want, just tell me, and I will support you. But the minute I hear about you bullying someone, we’re going to have a serious problem.’

(via bookswillbemylife)

391,507 notes

isneezedintoregeneration:

the-outsiders-dishonor:

romy7:

celestialdeth:

misterkevo:

theadventuresofpam:

Harry was the favorite kid and he wasn’t even an official part of the family

Because Molly knows exactly how the Dursleys treat him. There’s no way Ron wouldn’t tell her. And Molly Weasley is a Mother. She gets a capital M because she is goddamn phenomenal at what she does. When she hears Harry Potter is on the train to Hogwarts in Book 1, her reaction isn’t to be starstruck. It’s to say “that poor dear had to come here all on his own.” Molly Weasley loves harder than anyone. She loves like it’s her sole reason for being. And when she hears there’s a poor boy who has never known love his whole life… how could she not?

In Year One Molly Weasley knit Harry a Weasley family sweater and made him homemade chocolate so he would have something to open on Christmas DON’T TOUCH ME

could I also just add that kids from abusive households tend to assume that yelling is directed at them and/or it heralds something bad for them so she’s making extra sure that he knows that this is not his fault and she’s not actually mad at him.

Also look at his reaction, he tenses and looks to Ron and the Twins for support.

(via bookswillbemylife)