Flosscat

beautiful things and confuzzled thoughts

ducktrainer:

saemiligr:

dear-monday:

So we know it’s JK’s headcanon that Dudley has a magical child, right? Imagine his kid starting to show signs of magic and Dudley remembering all the odd things that used to happen around Harry. Imagine his kid coming home from Hogwarts and being all, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME UNCLE HARRY WAS FAMOUS?” Imagine Dudley reading up on Harry and finding out about all the stuff he did and all the things that happened to him and struggling to grasp how his scrawny, speccy cousin saved the wizarding world. Imagine Dudley, white-faced with terror at his first big family get-together with Harry, Hermione and all the remaining Weasleys. Imagine Mrs Weasley being decidedly cool towards him until he eats fifth helpings of everything she cooks and telling her that she’s the best cook he’s ever met. Imagine Dudley meeting Fleur. Imagine the others embarrassing Harry by telling Dudley stories about him. Imagine Dudley and Harry going down the pub together for beers. Imagine Harry still calling him Big D. Imagine Dudley cheerfully never dieting ever again and being fat and happy forever THE END.

This makes me absurdly happy

did they just made me happy about DUDLEY

(via tinyhungryhippo)

sooo i tried out parting my hair in the middle and i feel really weird but i think i like it?

she’ll carry on through it all - she’s a waterfall

will you ever cease to be uncertain // will you ever get the confirmation you seek

will you ever cease to be uncertain // will you ever get the confirmation you seek

I suppose I think of the notebook as a house for words, as a secret place for thought and self-examination. I’m not just interested in the results of writing, but in the process, the act of putting words on a page. Don’t ask me why. It might have something to do with an early confusion on my part, an ignorance about the nature of fiction. As a young person, I would always ask myself, Where are the words coming from? Who’s saying this? The third-person narrative voice in the traditional novel is a strange device. We’re used to it now, we accept it, we don’t question it anymore. But when you stop and think about it, there’s an eerie, disembodied quality to that voice. It seems to come from nowhere and I found that disturbing.

[soon the time is upon us when we can bundle up in warm layers of clothing; stay inside with a clean conscience; in the cold weather the heat we create when we’re together burns much hotter than usual]

Desire Lines

When you were young
And your excitement showed
But as time goes by
Does it outgrow?

Is that the way things go?
Forever reaching for the goal
Forever fading black
Comes a glow

Walking free, come with me
Far away, every day
Walking free, come with me
Far away, every day

When you were young
You never knew which way to go
What was once gray
No undertones

Well, every day do what you can
If you let them turn you round
Whatever goes up
Must come down

Walking free, come with me
Far away, every day
Walking free, come with me
Far away, every day

nothing gives me more hope than a beautiful sunrise. this is going to be a great year View high resolution

nothing gives me more hope than a beautiful sunrise. this is going to be a great year

(Source: Flickr / hms_chic)

She wore blue velvet
Bluer than velvet was the night
Softer than satin was the light
From the stars
— Blue Velvet

my eye is my sanctuary

[I need the cold, silent, frosty winter night where I can walk in the empty street by moonlight, all sounds muffled from the snow and feel as if I’m the only person left on this earth]

You Can Have It All

I’ll tell you what it’s going to be like
I saw you on the bus and that was that
There’s more to this than passing by
There’s more to this than meets the eye

I’ll tell you what it’s going to be like
I saw you on the bus, I saw your shoes
They fell apart some time ago
I’ll buy some more in five years

It’s not my fault, I don’t care
I don’t regret a single thing
It’s not my fault, I don’t care
I don’t regret a single thing

I’ll tell you what its going to feel like
You lost a limb and you can feel it
If you leave, at night, not by my side
Cause I’m not there to hold you too tight

Leave, I’ll tell you what its going to be like
No you can never hold my hand
If only they can know or understand
That you and me are now together

It’s not my fault, I don’t care
I don’t regret a single thing
It’s not my fault, I don’t care
I don’t regret a single thing

Oh oh, you can have it all, if that’s alright
Oh I will give it all to you, cause you never lied before
And you can have it all, if that’s alright
And you can have it all, if it’s alright, oh oh

I won’t be the one to disappoint you anymore / I know I’ve said all this and that you’ve heard it all before / the trick is getting you to think that all this was your idea / and that this is everything you’ve ever wanted out of here View high resolution

I won’t be the one to disappoint you anymore / I know I’ve said all this and that you’ve heard it all before / the trick is getting you to think that all this was your idea / and that this is everything you’ve ever wanted out of here

[love’s not a competition but i’m winning / at least i though i was but there’s no way of knowing]

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