Prolixious Blushes

hotsenator:

hotsenator:

my dad had surgery today so he is kind of high off his pain meds and he keeps telling me “get me a ham sandwich” and i’m like “no dad we don’t eat ham.. we’re jews’ he goes “ham… ham sandwich please” “dad no no, no ham..” 

now he’s just reading from the dessert menu and my mom is telling him “your doctor said no sugar or anything too heavy…” and he’s going “this is so unfair! this is so unfair to me!”

flygoing:

she likes carrying around random rags for no reason

ask-koki-kariya:

randomfandom121896-2:

ask-koki-kariya:

qorter:

So I found Doug Dimmadome at Dragon Con


You mean Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome?

That’s right Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

Wow I’m your biggest fan, Doug Dimmadome owner of the dimmsdale dimmadome!

ask-koki-kariya:

randomfandom121896-2:

ask-koki-kariya:

qorter:

So I found Doug Dimmadome at Dragon Con

You mean Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome?

That’s right Doug Dimmadome owner of the Dimmsdale Dimmadome.

Wow I’m your biggest fan, Doug Dimmadome owner of the dimmsdale dimmadome!

Until I started taking my antidepressants, though, I didn’t actually know that I was depressed. I thought the dark staticky corners were part of who I was. It was the same way I felt before I put on my first pair of glasses at age 14 and suddenly realized that trees weren’t green blobs but intricate filigrees of thousands of individual leaves; I hadn’t known, before, that I couldn’t see the leaves, because I didn’t realize that seeing leaves was a possibility at all. And it wasn’t until I started using tools to counterbalance my depression that I even realized there was depression there to need counterbalancing. I had no idea that not everyone felt the gravitational pull of nothingness, the ongoing, slow-as-molasses feeling of melting down into a lump of clay. I had no way of knowing that what I thought were just my ingrained bad habits — not being able to deposit checks on time, not replying to totally pleasant emails for long enough that friendships were ruined, having silent meltdowns over getting dressed in the morning, even not going to the bathroom despite really, really, really having to pee — weren’t actually my habits at all. They were the habits of depression, which whoa, holy shit, it turns out I had a raging case of.

thevolutionofnerdy:

deaneggsandsam:

no but could you imagine one of the quidditch team members saying “knock on wood” and they all just hit oliver before a big match

I’m almost a thousand percent sure the Weasley twins did that at some point

arelyhepburn:

This is the best gif you’ll ever see

arelyhepburn:

This is the best gif you’ll ever see

suzie-guru:

Imagine Harry and Ginny a few months into their marriage and they’re so happy and in love and then one day they go shopping for food and household items and Harry just casually grabs certain items before Ginny hisses at him to "Check the prices, Harry, God! That bed set is far too expensive, we’re not going to have anything left to get the food with!" And Harry starts to laugh and say "We don’t have to worry about -" and then he stops and he and Ginny look at each other. And Harry realizes that she’s grown up having to measure out all her money and decide what she can and cannot have for a certain week or month or year. And Ginny realizes that she is actually no longer obligated to worry about money ever again. 

Imagine Harry and Ginny eating dinner together and Ginny’s telling him about certain meals her mum made and teasing him about how he wolfs everything down and "Honestly Harry, you’re worse than Ron!" and Harry retorts laughingly "well old habits die hard, I had to fight Dudley for meals all the time, you at least knew you were going to eat every day!" And Ginny’s grin starts to fade and she asks "You…you didn’t get to eat everyday?" And Harry realizes what he said and he changes the subject quickly and Ginny looks at the plates in front of him and resists the urge to pile on some more potatoes. And the next day Vernon Dursley’s car is egged. 

Imagine Harry and Ginny both suffering from night terrors and PTSD and agreeing that maybe going to that therapist Hermione recommended isn’t such a bad idea, and that’s how Thursday night became Therapy Night when they go out to dinner or to the pub after each session and agree that  they need to talk to some Healers about introducing these sessions since therapy is still widely seen as muggle nonsense in the wizarding world.

And Ginny murmurs over her fire whiskey that sometimes she can still hear Tom Riddle murmuring in her ear, and Harry whispers that he dreams about running after his mother and father and Sirius and Remus as they disappear behind the Veil in the Department of Mysteries and he doesn’t know if he wakes from terror or regret about not making it through. And they go back home and hold each other closer that night and both wake up with raging hangovers.