“What do you see when you look in the mirror?”
“I? I see myself holding a pair of thick, woolen socks.”
Harry stared.
“One can never have enough socks,” said Dumbledore. “Another Christmas
has come and gone and I didn’t get a single pair. People will insist on
giving me books.”It was only when he was back in bed that it struck Harry that Dumbledore
might not have been quite truthful. But then, he thought, as he shoved
Scabbers off his pillow, it had been quite a personal question.
do you ever read a piece of fanfic that is just so fucking spectacular that makes you actually feel things?
boy, i swear to god, i’m so goddamn grateful for every single one of you writers, yall literally giving us entertainment for free almost every goddamn week; and this is not only for those gracious magnificent bastards that are practically gods because they’ve perfected (and keep developing) their craft, this is also to that little (and equally amazing) writer that is just starting and might not be the best at it, you my friend keep writing because practice makes perfect, don’t stop writing if that’s what makes you happy. i just want all of yall to know that i appreciate you so goddamn much and yall the fucking best
to every fanfic writer out there: i love you, u crazy motherfucker
Fkksjfjfjdjkdjdjs dfmf
Imagine your OTP?
hilariously enough this post was making me recall several years back when there was a brief fad for writing fics based on that william carlos williams poem “this is just to say”
does anyone else remember that? when everybody and their brother wrote about which member of their otp would have eaten the plums and what would happen when they apologized for it?
I don’t remember that particular plum meme, but I remember another and I hope to hell 90% of those fics were Stucky.
That is so awesome! 😀 But probably long before my time on Tumblr, so no I don’t remember it.
…..slime creature…..
Mine just said “bastard”
‘sexy sentient mist that fills you with anxiety’
If one makes a metaphor of the storyteller as farmer, one would never say that only those whose fruit reaches millions of mouths half a world away can claim themselves the name.
I will feed myself, my friends, my neighbors, strangers passing by along the way. And perhaps there is a sweeter taste to the apples I plucked yesterday and brought to your door with a grin, knowing your own skill with pies.
Perhaps. Perhaps not.
But there is still the soil, the rain, the nourishing sun, sweat and hours and exhausted evenings. And filling up this small corner with the opposite of hunger.
Baldursbrá 