i'm graceful at falling and not much else.

sageayanna:

setissma:

Headcanon:

When Harry gets his first place after Hogwarts that actually has more than one floor, he comes home after getting a load of boxes to find Hermione using a sledgehammer on the drywall beneath the stairs. And Ron’s like, “Look, mate, I borrowed this stuff from my dad, I’ve got a DRILL and a - what’s it called again, Hermione?” “A stud finder.” “Right, one of those, and we’re going to fix your stairs.” Harry’s like, “But there’s nothing wrong with them.” “Yes, Harry, there is.” Harry’s just sort of standing there in total bewilderment while Hermione totally demolishes the wall. “We couldn’t have done that with magic?” “No, Harry, this is personal. You two take this mess out to the skip.” And then Harry stands around a while longer and Hermione puts in support beams in the appropriate places so the stairs don’t fall in, and Ron’s very excited about using the stud finder even though Hermione won’t let him use the drill. When they’re finished, Harry has this set of shelves. So he says, still completely confused, “I thought we picked this place because it had loads of storage.” And Hermione says, “Go get some of my books. I know it’s just shelves, but it’s not a bloody cupboard.”

And every time Harry moves for the rest of his life, Ron and Hermione are there on moving day and they knock out anything under the stairs, even if it’s just a wall. Hermione reads a lot of books. Ron learns to use a miter saw and a carpenter’s square and practices the nail hammering spell until he can do it perfectly on the first try. And sometimes it isn’t very practical but it looks nice…

And sometimes, when they all get older and have children, it’s cozy and has a purpose…

And eventually Hermione gets the trick of there being nothing under the stairs at all…

Which is the story of how Harry Potter never lived in a house with a cupboard under the stairs again for the entire rest of his life.

Quality post.

(via lesmiserablephantom)

embalm:

sorry but positivity posts like “support boys who get angry and yell and scream” like im sorry but men yelling is terrifying and traumatic for me and tons of other women they honestly dont need positivity for being aggressive 

(Source: embalm-remade, via pardonmewhileipanic)

gabbyzvolt25:

bi-est-witch-of-middleearth:

kittenwiskers:

writing-prompt-s:

You’re in charge of assigning every child on Earth the monster under their bed. One child in particular has caused every monster assigned to him/her to quit. You decide to assign yourself.

Case: #273402
Status: Disastrous.

I stare at the file and realize I have no options, over the last 2 years every monster assigned to Charlotte Dower has quit, every last one. Her first monster; a giant goldfish-faced humanoid named Bubba, had been with her for four years, and then she wasn’t scared of him anymore. After that it was a string of different common, uncommon, and rare monsters… I even assigned a sentient sock monster to her. He came back crying!
I look on my tablet, only one assignable monster left; myself. Field work has never been my cup of tea, but desperate times call for desperate measures. So at 8:03 pm, after Mrs. Gideon tucks in Charlotte and her little brother Daniel; I slither into the space beneath Charlotte’s bed.
Across the room underneath Daniel’s crib is a rookie, Chico, a standard Creep kind of monster.
I turn my attention to the bed above me, Charlotte is still awake but barely, I reach up over the bed and run an ice cold finger over her cheek, silence, so I do it again.
“I’m not afraid of you monster!” She whispers, but her voice is shaking. I can see a small clock on the wall 8:14, a door somewhere in the house slams and there is an audible hitch of breath from above me. A few minutes go by I can hear Francis Gideon yelling at his wife. There are heavy footsteps on the stairs, and loud panting breaths, Charlotte scrambles off the bed and…
She. CRAWLS. Under. The. Bed. With. Me.
“Move. Over!” Charlotte hisses at me. I do.
The door to the bedroom slams open and I smell the stench of human intoxicants before the man even steps inside.
I know why Charlotte isn’t afraid of any of my monsters; she’s afraid of her own.
Francis reaches a hand under the bed and I thrust my wrist into it, he starts to pull, I slither out.
“What the…” I cut Francis’s next words off by unfolding to my full 12 foot height. Looming over the drunken man I caress my cold fingers down his face.
“If you ever touch, scare, or harm my child again, I will find you, and I will do the same to you, for all eternity.” I promise to him.
As Francis runs from the room he soils himself.
I pull Charlotte from under the bed, tuck her back under her covers and kiss her forehead goodnight. “I’ll be back tomorrow night, sleep well darling.”
Charlotte Dower is my child, I am the monster under her bed.

WELL GODAMN, WE HAVE OURSELVES A WINNER

Holy shit I’m gonna cry that’s beautiful.

(via ruinedchildhood)