amandayahh

snaps7:

snapslikethis:

queernymphadora:

snapslikethis:

riversnogs:

riversnogs:

That moment in your childhood when you realize that Diagon Alley is just the word diagonally….

image

And the Mirror of Erised is just the word desire backwards.

Didn’t even realize. Does that mean Knockturn Alley is nocturnally (dark/night)?

Yes, and Grimmauld Place is a play on grim old place. 

DUDE.

And Dumbledore is just a dumb old door

solid-snoop
jetn:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

*prepares party popper*


*nervously shakes the party popper*


*slowly falls asleep with the party popper*


*has a wonderful night with the party popper*


*gets married to the party popper*

It’s a beautiful evening in February. My wife and I are sitting at the fireplace, when suddenly a terrible image appears on the screen of my computer.

My wife looks at me. As I look in her terrified, cardboard eyes, filled with tears, she takes a deep breath, before saying with her shivering voice “It’s what you’ve always wanted, dear. Do it.” My hands start shaking and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I can’t, honey. I’m not like that anymore.” “I will do it.” a small voice behind us says. As I turn around, my eyes cross with my son; our son. “You don’t have to do this, Benedict.” I say, as I hold his hands.
Ignoring what I told him, young Benedict Popper-Are Optional holds my wife’s cardboard body in one hand, and her long, beautiful string in the other. With tears in my eyes, I turn my head away. A loud pop sounds behind me and I watch in terror as I see my wife’s confetti spread across the room.
"It’s what you’ve always wanted, dad…" my son says, putting his small, cardboard hand on my shoulder. "Yes," I say, "but not like this… Never like this…"

what the actual fuck

jetn:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

fingersareoptional:

*prepares party popper*

*nervously shakes the party popper*

*slowly falls asleep with the party popper*

*has a wonderful night with the party popper*

*gets married to the party popper*

It’s a beautiful evening in February. My wife and I are sitting at the fireplace, when suddenly a terrible image appears on the screen of my computer.

My wife looks at me. As I look in her terrified, cardboard eyes, filled with tears, she takes a deep breath, before saying with her shivering voice “It’s what you’ve always wanted, dear. Do it.” My hands start shaking and a lone tear rolls down my cheek. “I can’t, honey. I’m not like that anymore.” “I will do it.” a small voice behind us says. As I turn around, my eyes cross with my son; our son. “You don’t have to do this, Benedict.” I say, as I hold his hands.

Ignoring what I told him, young Benedict Popper-Are Optional holds my wife’s cardboard body in one hand, and her long, beautiful string in the other. With tears in my eyes, I turn my head away. A loud pop sounds behind me and I watch in terror as I see my wife’s confetti spread across the room.

"It’s what you’ve always wanted, dad…" my son says, putting his small, cardboard hand on my shoulder. "Yes," I say, "but not like this… Never like this…"

what the actual fuck