my bunnies are the world to me

When I was a very small child, my mom used to bury coins in my sandbox, leave huge boot prints in the sand, and tell me pirates had come in the night and buried treasure. I would be out there happily for hours, with my little sieve, and my mom got a quiet morning to herself for the price of a handful of pennies.

I was always kind of skeptical about Santa, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy, because visiting every kid in the world did not seem reasonable. But the pirates only visited me, so they were probably real.

So that’s the story of how I ended up being an archaeologist. How about you?

Send Nude Pics of Your Heart to Me

James Potter to Mrs. Wife: lily can we have another baby?

Lily Potter to Wears Socks to Bed: R u going to text me that every time Harry does something cute?

James Potter: yes

Lily Potter: U know if we got one every time u asked we’d have like 35 babies by now??

James Potter: i’d be okay with that

James Potter: they might give us our own tv programme

James Potter: lil and jim and their kin 

Lily Potter: Ur right what’s the point of having children if not to pimp them out for reality television

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Okay I need to ask. Why do YOU write?

I grew up surrounded by words, quite literally. By the time I was six months old my parents had taped words to every surface in the house, so the walls said “wall” the window said “window” and so on so forth. I still don’t know how they managed to get the cat involved but some things are meant to be wondered at.

But for the next six years the world was covered in words, as first I learned to read, and then my brother. I dare say if you move some furniture in my parents house to this day you will find a faded piece of paper that says “shelf” or “bookcase” on it. It was a sad day when they were taken down, they were like old friends. But by then the magic had already worked. I was able to look at the world and see words, whether they were printed there or not.

I was four when I sat down to consciously write my first story. I remember it vividly because I had my bright yellow Cadburys Caramel mug, that had the purple flowing font on the side with the bunny rabbit lady on it. It was filled with “baby tea”— mostly hot milk with a splash of tea from the pot to give it color— and I was holding it in both hands, sitting at the little “art” table dad had built for me in the corner so I had a place to sit and scribble that wasn’t the walls. Contemplating my next masterpiece I looked around the room for inspiration. Would it be an exploration of color through pinky finger painting only? Or would it be the greatest macaroni interpretation of a dog we’d ever seen? Sadly we’ll never know how this might have worked out, as at that very moment, mum came in holding a crystal mobile and hung it up on the window sill. This in turn had the effect of creating a living, dancing rainbow in the living room, and something in my brain short fused.

That was the day I learned the word “iridescent”. It was like learning the language of angels.

After that I was always scribbling something. My school books were a mess of words, crammed into margins and on back pages. I was always in trouble for letting my mind “wander into whimsy.” Once I got a report card that said “fantastical leanings towards flights of fancy.” It was meant as criticism, but dad still has it framed in the office.

Then there came the time a few years later when I was reading the Hobbit with dad, and I turned to him quite seriously and asked “where are all the girl hobbits?” and dad hemmed and hawed before eventually telling me “they’re in another book, darling…having their own adventure…” and I accepted this and settled back down to let him finish the chapter. He probably thought I forgot about it until that weekend I marched up to the Librarian and asked for “the girl hobbit book please”, which was met with much confusion and my dad rushing over to tell me they probably wouldn’t have it yet because it was very rare. A few weeks later, dad handed me something. It was sheaves of paper bound together by string. It was, he told me, a very exclusive copy of the girl hobbit book.

I still have it somewhere, back home. Probably on a shelf somewhere that still says “shelf”.

And sweet, naive thing that I was, I believed him. It wasn’t until later on and someone else popped my bubble, that I realized dad, not Tolkien, had written it. And oh I was furious, furious because the story had been so good and because dad had lied about not writing it himself. But that small bubbling anger was nothing compared to the heat inside my brain when my dad confessed he’d tried without much success to find books I might like with girls in them. All the heroes were boys, you see. It made me quite tearful actually, that no one had ever thought that someone like me could go off on an adventure and save the world, when I knew it to be a blatant lie. Old Mrs McDougall across the street had been a land girl and saved a man shot down from his spitfire. Mrs Mitchell had been the emergency coordinator and saved people from burning buildings when the Nazis bombed the shipyards, and her skin was all bubbled and tightly pulled across the left side of her face because of it and her hands didn’t quite work because she’d gripped burning metal to try and free the men inside. Those, were heroes. But we never learned about them at school. We only learned about kings and tyrants and the kind of heavily filtered history that lead you to believe that women were in there somewhere, but only in the same sense that a wall has paint on it.

And now my books, my lovely wonderful books, where you could travel through space and time or climb up volcanoes to throw rings inside and save the world…those wonderful colorful worlds that spoke the language of angels, were just the same.

I was ready to cry and be defeated about it until dad, raising his eyebrows at me and offering me a notebook, said, “well, maybe someone ought to write one.”

And you likely know the rest by now. But in short I write because there are stories to be told. I write because it’s the closest I’ll ever be to how the word iridescent feels. I look at the world and I see words, dancing like rainbows, singing like angels.

There’s words everywhere. I’m just scribbling them down.

youtube

Okay yeah okay yeah okay 

WARNING: RANT AHEAD

I can’t even pretend it’s anything else XD

so normally I’m like very chill and open-minded about this kind of thing; like okay people give the *probably* hard-working movie-studio a chance, you haven’t even seen the movie yet, let’s not go bashing something before it’s arrived okay.

and I never want to make a big deal out of “not approving of” something, that’s just not my style, nor do I enjoy planting seeds of negativity in a world that’s got enough of that already holy crap XD

but

I’m sorry

you done hit a nerve, Sony. And that’s just me taking it personally, which I don’t have a right to do… but damn it, Sony, you’ve made it kind of difficult with this one. 

As you can probably imagine, I’m a fan of Beatrix Potter’s work; which, fyi, appeared in the early 1900′s as illustrated children’s stories featuring Peter Rabbit and many of the animals seen in this trailer. Needless to say, these stories mean a lot to me… I would go so far as to say they’ve shaped me as a human being, and as an artist; Ms. Potter remains one of my personal patron saints. 

This trailer (at the risk of sounding like a prude) offends me, not because it strays from the classic material (God knows, the written word is no more sacred these days than a hand-me-down sweater), but because it shits on it. It takes the world Ms. Potter created, gives you a glimpse of what it looked like, then slaps you in the face for smiling fondly at the sight of a familiar, jacket-wearing bunny, and proceeds to (very loudly and crudely) inform you of how outdated, useless, babyish, and uncool the old stories are. “But don’t worry, Sony’s here to make them cool again, with CGI party animals, pop culture references, a creepy sexual undertone, and tried-and-true sight gags like ‘naked’ animals and two guys screaming at each other for five minutes!”

In honesty, I wouldn’t have been thrilled, but I could have stomached a “modern times” version of Peter Rabbit. If it had treated the original stories with a semblance of respect, I could have dealt with it. I can deal with the stupid Nick Jr. cartoon that’s been airing (though make no mistake, I’m still bitter about the American accents and significantly, badly altered character designs). At least you can tell it has some respect for Ms. Potter’s Lake District world. 

Unless this trailer is lying to me, it doesn’t appear that this movie has anything resembling respect for its source material, and that is what offends me. Not the dumb gags, the adult angle, or the cultural appropriation (though, c’mon, that’s all bad). It’s the lack of respect for a classic that has been a part of so many people’s growing up, that has changed the face of children’s publishing over the more than 100 years since its genesis. In the trailer, mischievous adventurer Peter is a stereotypical charismatic party animal… he sorta strikes me as a much less well-meaning Ferris Beuller. And Mr. Tod, one of (in my humble opinion) literature’s darkest, most calculatingly evil, and frightening villains is reduced to a bad-tempered tagalong. I could go on, but I’m exhausted already. 

I just

Ugh. 

While we’re crapping on modernizing children’s classics, why don’t we just remake Ted and replace the main characters with Winnie the Pooh and Christopher Robin? 

The Dreamer Within You

I wear sunshine on my lips and stars on my nails. My hair is a garden of roses that blossoms in a different color every morning. I drink galaxies for breakfast and use ribbons of moonbeams sprinkled with comets as laces for my shoes. My eyelids are the wings of hummingbirds and my skin, the velvet blackness of night seasoned with stardust. My breath is the scent of wildflowers and magic. And I wear music as jewelry around my neck.
You’ve known me as the dreamer who lives within you and the creativity you lost as you grew up. I helped you discover your imaginary friends and whispered in your ear to create your own world. I replaced your ordinary eyes with kaleidoscopic diamonds and your nightmares with dreams of flying. You still see me in children: the five-year-olds who pray to the Easter bunny and the eight-year-olds who wear rose-colored contact lens, viewing the world as a big bundle of joy where everyone is happy. You wish I’d never left you when your parents fought and got a divorce or when your first love broke your heart into pieces. You think I faded inside you little by little every time your teacher said you’d never amount to anything in life or during those sleepless nights when you felt unloved and believed you no longer belonged anywhere.
You wish you could trade all your ‘growing up’ for just one more day of staying a child. To feel my soft fluttering kiss on your salty, world-weary cheeks as I lead you once again into the world you created and then abandoned. And to help you rediscover the pirate ships and treasure chests hidden in scudding masses of clouds. To just be a child again, nothing else.
You think you outgrew me when your turned thirteen when all your friends seemed more interested in their own bodies than your fairytale stories about flying imps and green-skinned witches. You let the world turn you angry, cynical and disappointed. You learnt that not all people are good and that rainbows don’t really lead to leprechauns’ pots of gold. Growing up had changed you and you blamed me for letting you down.
With every day of disbelieving, I was vanishing within you until one day I was nowhere to be found. Your head full of dreams wilted as real-life responsibilities mounted on your shoulders and left you on your knees. Soon, I became just another tattered memory you remembered occasionally on bus rides back home and sighed at.
*
But one evening, you stop to look at the moon. It is deliciously glowing and hangs crescent in the sky. You casually envision a Siamese kitten sitting on the inner curve of the moon with its kinky tail waving at the stars. And just like that, you hear me laugh. That laugh you hadn’t heard for years; that laugh that still rang with innocent delight and childlike wonder.
I say to you, “Remember, I’m the dreamer within you. The bottle of rainbows in an ocean under a rainstorm. The sweet clusters of dew in a field of parched grass. You’ll never lose me, you just have to find me. But I’m always there.”

You then realize you’ve been wrong this whole time. It wasn’t me who had let you down, but yourself.

Y'ALL. I just saw a pilot trailer called world destroyer-

It looks AWESOME but one thing popped up for me.


HOLY

Shit.

This little cinnamon bun is just so precious yet -

So

Fuckin

BADASS


If this becomes a real thing in the future I will be so happy. Spread the word of this pilot trailer animation and help the creators achieve there goal to turn this into a animated movie so this cinnamon bun can be loved more TwT

The Secret History: Oscar Wilde edition

Richard : “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read in the train.”

Henry : “You will always be fond of me. I represent to you all the sins you never had the courage to commit.”

Charles : “We are each our own devil, and we make this world our hell.”

Camilla : “After a good dinner one can forgive anybody, even one’s own relations.”

Francis : “I don’t want to go to heaven. None of my friends are there.”

Bunny : “A good friend will always stab you in the front.”

Julian : “I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I am saying.”

  • Me: The Tyde is coming in...*a wave of ship art consumes me*
  • Me: *looks at someone else's Stan x Kyle art* I like your Style.
  • Me: *goes to a gumball machine* I love Candy *puts in quarter and gets a fanfic*
  • Me: I devote my attention to my darling Bunny *pets stack of art and stories*
  • Me: This Creek is beautiful *stares at picture then saves it*
  • Me: Pass me some Dip *receives Copenhagen* That's not what I meant--
  • Me: *talking to friend* then they gave me actual dip. I was so devastated, I Cryde all night.
  • Me: The world shall hate me forever
Natural Charmer

Third time DMing the party (same one as a fine crowmance), one player was missing today, so we spend our time in town and only advance the plot a little bit. The story is set in the world of Dragon Quest 8. The half elf Oracle (Alv) and human ranger (Selena) walk up to a bunny girl selling Yggdrasil leaves. These are powerful healing items that basically can bring players back to full from unconsciousness. I expected them to see the price and walk away.

Alv: How much for one of these wonderful items?

Bunny Girl: 1000 gold per leaf 

Alv: Uhhh, ok. How about 5 gold? 

DM: Roll diplomacy

-rolls 4 in diplomacy-

Bunny Girl: I think you should get the hell out of my store.

Selena: How about one copper piece?

Me: -stifling a laugh- You should get the hell out of…

Selena rolls a natural 20 on diplomacy. Whole table goes nuts for 3 minutes.

DM: Wow, ok. She hands you a leaf and asks that you pay her back when you do have the money.

Alv: She must’ve fallen for you.

Selena: She wants me. The bunny was thirsty.

The ranger, who has lived in the woods most of her life, charmed a bunny girl into giving her a powerful healing item for basically free. Both the oracle and the ranger were nearly killed by a bear 20 minutes later.

4

just chankai being dumb and in love

songs to base your plots off of:

                             selena quintanilla version  ;

el chico del apartamento 512. // the guy from apartment 512.

( y camino a mi cuarto muy lentamente, con la esperanza de verlo. y cuando sale a caminar me saluda con una sonrisa, que de veras me conquista ) MUSE A and MUSE B live in the same apartment complex. MUSE A usually attracts the attention of every other guy in the complex but her eyes are always on MUSE B— the hot guy who lives in apartment 512. MUSE A usually writes about how MUSE B smiles or interacts with her in a diary. one day MUSE A musters up the courage to talk to MUSE B only to have another female answer the door. this leads MUSE A to believe MUSE B is in a relationship until MUSE A finds out that the female that opened MUSE B’s door is MUSE B’s sister. and so things continue until MUSE A finally declares their crush to MUSE B.

 si una vez. // if i once.

( si una vez dije que te amaba no lo vuelvo a hacer— ese error es cosa de ayer ) MUSE A and MUSE B were in a toxic relationship, one where MUSE A was head over heels in love with MUSE B but MUSE B never actually felt the same. MUSE B would just show enough interest and affection towards MUSE A to keep them happy. until one day MUSE A realized how better of they were without MUSE B, leading to a messy break up.  if i once told you that i love you, i now regret it.

la carcacha. // the jalopy.

( aunque sea pobre y tenga un carro viejo, me saca como reina — un hombre de verdad ) MUSE A and MUSE B have been dating for a while, they’re the embodiment of relationship goals. however, MUSE B is not rich at all and MUSE A is. their financial statuses have never been a problem for them but it does have everyone else talking. MUSE A doesn’t care that MUSE B has an old, raggedy car because MUSE B treats MUSE A right. this leads to MUSE B going to a lot of fancy events and not knowing what to do and MUSE A whispering words of encouragement to them the entire time.

no debes jugar. // you shouldn’t play.

( se te hace fácil con mi amor siempre jugar pero muy pronto, yo te pongo en tu lugar ) MUSE A has had enough of MUSE B treating them like they’re just someone to mess around with so MUSE A begins to do the same. they flirt with others and do things that they know MUSE B doesn’t like. ultimately, MUSE A is giving MUSE B a taste of their own medicine.

la llamada. // the call.

no me vuelves a llamar, no te voy a perdonar, otra oportunidad — no te la doy no vales la pena ) MUSE A catches MUSE B cheating, which leads to them breaking up. however, MUSE B won’t stop calling MUSE A and it turns into constant arguing and MUSE A cussing MUSE B out every time the phone rings.

amor prohibido. // forbidden love.

( amor prohibido nos dice todo el mundo, el dinero no importa en ti y en mí, ni en el corazón oh, oh baby ) MUSE A and MUSE B have been dating in secrecy for a while, neither of their families or friends approving of their relationship for x reason. but the couple is so happy together that they hardly ever let the rumors and gossip about them get to them. but when things do get intense, MUSE A and MUSE B do get into some pretty nasty arguments.

como la flor. // like the flower.

( si en mi no encontraste felicidad, tal vez alguien más te la dará ) MUSE A and MUSE B have been in an on again and off again relationship for a long time. their relationship has never been stable because of the lack of affection that they both don’t share. after their last breakup, MUSE B moved on and began dating MUSE C ( npc ) which sparked MUSE A’s jealousy and feelings towards MUSE B. now, MUSE A is trying to get back with MUSE B, even though MUSE B is in a relationship with MUSE A.

no me queda mas. // i have no more.

( no me queda más que perderme en un abismo de tristeza y lágrimas ) much like the como la flor plot, MUSE A falls into immense sadness after their breakup with MUSE B— not realizing how much they loved MUSE B until they see that MUSE B has moved on to MUSE C. however, MUSE B sees how much pain MUSE A is in and the feelings come rushing back but MUSE B in a tough spot because they’re in a committed relationship with MUSE C.

bidi bidi bom bom.

( cada vez, cada vez que lo veo pasar… mi corazón se enloquece y me empieza a palpitar ) MUSE A is madly in love with MUSE B but MUSE B is completely clueless. even when MUSE A fling themselves at MUSE B, they’re still so oblivious to it all. this means so it’s up to MUSE A to do as much as they can to catch MUSE B’s interest.

i could fall in love.

( so i should keep this to myself and never let you know i could fall in love with you ) unrequited love between MUSE A and MUSE B. MUSE A is a dreamer, head always in the clouds as they have always wanted things they could not have. MUSE B on the other hand is a realist, accepting a situation as it is and is prepared to deal with it accordingly. after meeting MUSE B, MUSE A falls in love at first sight— intrigued by the way MUSE B handles themselves. but MUSE A is too shy to ever act on her feelings, so they write a book about being in love with MUSE B. bonus points if MUSE B reads the book and finds out it’s about them.

is it the beat?

( i believe, that love doesn’t come when you plan. here i am—  caught up in these feelings i don’t understand ) MUSE A and MUSE B know each other through mutual friends. every time there’s some sort of get together or party, you can always catch the two there. over time, they start to develop feelings for one another but the gag is that they’ve never told each other their names or any type of personal information because they don’t want to get into a serious relationship. the only time MUSE A and MUSE B see each other is at social events but never outside of the party scene.

dreaming of you.

( and there’s nowhere in the world i’d rather be than here in my room dreaming about you and me ) a cute, fluffy plot about MUSE A and MUSE B being so madly in love with each other that they’re always doing intimate couple things. cuddling, napping, passionate kisses and what not. 

"Modesty is not a trait I would have pinned on you."

Jack Kelly is surprisingly modest, but I feel like he’s only modest when something is super important to him.

Like if it’s a big deal to him he’s like eh its ok it’s just a bunch of trees it’s no big deal. But if it’s something completely trivial he’s like…*flips table* GODDAMNIT SPOT I CAN SHOVE FIFTY MARSHMALLOWS IN MY MOUTH AT ONCE WATCH ME B I T C H

In Honour of AgustD, let me tell you why I love Min Yoongi

Ok, first of all, I can’t say WHY I love Min Yoongi. These are just some from the never ending list, so if I miss some points, they are still there.

We’ll start with his hair.

Have you seen anything as fluffy and frumpy as Yoongi’s hair? 

Felt like running your fingers through it? I know you did.

(STOP RUINNING MY LOVE’S BEAUTIFUL NATURAL HAIR)

His Eyes:

Yes, he looks like a kitty. A kitty I would bring home no matter what my parents say.

His smile:

(Especially when his eyes are scrunched like that)

Plus, no matter how much he pretends to be done with the world (even if he is) He is my small baby ball of fluff and I am not ashamed to say this about him even if he would pout and grumble at me.

Now that we’ve put all his physical attributes away, let me tell you this man is one of the greatest thing that happened to me.

I don’t need to tell you that I discovered BTS purely by accident and thanks to that accident I’m living ok with 7 wonderful loves of my life and a beautiful vast family of ARMYs. My best friends @kookies-bunny-grin and @jimin-meeny-mo (I can’t thank you guys for being my friends)

The first time I heard Yoongi Oppa singularly was a small clip of his solo rap in the days when BTS wasn’t this huge. I had no clue what he was talking about so what does this nerdy, geeky creature does? She finds someone who could sub it, of course. (I didn’t know I was going to be this deep with them so I had no reason to even want to learn the language then.) So, the rap was about how he struggled and how those struggles are actually relevant in the lives of all the youngsters who had dreamed of something to do in their lives.

I wasn’t hooked then. Not to the men, not to the lyrics, not to the theories, not to Army or Bangtan. What I was taken by, was the beats, the tones, the melody and the voices. So, I looking through all their songs. More I heard, more I got curious especially about Yoongi, because there were all these stuff about his health and his parents and something about his dog.

Well, I subbed all the songs and slowly I began to recognise myself in the songs. I’m not being cliche, I’m not exaggerating, I’m sure loads of you have seen yourself in the songs. Societal Pressure, (I’m Indian, but I’m lucky to be in the progressive numbers) Pressure to do what is being told and not thinking out of the box. Terror for someone as strange as me.

If Namjoon taught me to be proud of myself for who I was, Yoongi taught me to actually be myself. He taught me that no matter what I do for someone, people will find flaws in it, people even as slow and as dumb as my teachers (no lie). So, just do your own things and don’t let anyone pull you down. Eventually people will love you, and they will be the ones who matter. I did. I found someone who was as proud of me as I’m proud of them. Even if it’s indirect, BTS is always proud of me and so is ARMY.

I wouldn’t have written ONE SINGLE WORD of fiction or song if it wasn’t for him. I wouldn’t have pulled out one single chord out of my throat or pushed something in my sound studio if it wasn’t for him. I wouldn’t have touched my dusty keyboard if it wasn’t from listening to him play the piano.

He may not be a dancer but he tries and now he’s as good as them, at least to me. I can’t pick any mistake in any of his performances. 

That’s how hard he works. In his studio, in the recordings, in writing his songs, his raps, in the dance practice and I want to work that hard.

I want to be so worthy of his appreciation just like he is and will always be worthy of each and everything he has accomplished.

I love you, Min Yoongi. Never change.