Rise Up, Oh Heart, For There is Another Battle to Win

werewolfjokewar:

improbablenormality:

kvothetheravenclaw:

Headcanon that the Ravenclaw door allows entry to those who willingly and humbly admit that they do not know the answer or that their answer is wrong, because having an open mind and awareness of the limits of your intellect is proof of wisdom.

Supplementary headcanon that there are a lot of good answers, because the door opens for good reasoning, good arguments, and the way your mind hacks away at the problem, not the actual answer itself.

Tertiary headcanon that the door will no longer open for puns, no matter how clever.

(via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

menpale:

REBLOG THIS IF YOU ARE LITERALLY SUPRISED WHEN PEOPLE FIND YOU ATTRACTIVE.

(Source: instagram-addicted, via johanirae)

4poc4lyps3-v1s1on4ry:

deadmomjokes:

purrypixel:

princess-shatter:

dear-bunni:

robina-otaku:

eezybree:

SCIENCE HAS CONFIRMED THAT DOGS LOVE US BACK BECAUSE THEY GET THE SAME RUSH OF OXYTOCIN WHEN THEY LOOK AT US THAT WE GET WHEN WE LOOK AT THEM

Are you telling me that dogs are looking up to us and think “omg what an adorable fucking cutiepie”?

a while ago I read an article about how dogs love us back, but recognize that we’re different from them, while cats see us as bigger and clumsier than them, but do not consider us different  

Dogs: I am fuzzy creature and you are a different adorable creature and I love you!!!!!
Cats: I am lanky and graceful and you are a giant mess

This is why cats occasionally try to bathe and feed us

It’s true; cats see us as giant dumb hairless babies. That’s why they bring us half-dead prey– to teach us how to hunt and eat properly. That’s why they attack when we rub their bellies– that’s how parent cats teach kittens to defend themselves. That’s also why they meow– cats communicate with other adults on a frequency we can’t hear, but meow at kittens because their ears aren’t fully developed. They even specialized a set of meows they use only for humans, because we are especially deaf babies.

We are all of us dumb kittens.

Today I Learned That I Am A Dumb Kitten

(via lupinatic)

sapphichands:

hobbitcreampuff:

But what about vampire history teachers. Vampires who read something from a text book then proceed to light the book on fire and throw it out the window because “No. that’s not even close to what really happened. Listen up nerds I’m about to teach you what really happened in France during the revolution”

I need this as a series

(Source: haughtssockgun, via yea-lets-do-this-shit)

clarabeau:

theyankeecandle:

madame-vashtranerada:

blackberrycreek:

stepone:

clarabeau:

Ladies, I am holding out my hand. Do you trust me?

I need you to open Google Maps. Locate your nearest mall. Get in your car. Drive to Yankee Candle.

Past the seasonal pumpkin display, near the back of the store, you will find a trash pile Man Candle section. You will see candles called MMM, Bacon!. Riding Mower. Man Town. (I’m not kidding. Man Town.) Stay strong. Not in this section, but likely very near this section, you will find a candle called Mountain Lodge.

Hold this jar in your hands like a talisman. Close your eyes and picture a man.

I want to be clear: I’m not talking about a Hugh Dancy. Or an Andrew Garfield, a Ben Whishaw, even a Tom Hiddleston. This exercise requires someone in the Chris Evans weight class. The Richard Armitage department. Someone with smile lines around his eyes who could chop the cedar for your bower with his own hands, strangle an alpha wolf, carry you home when you sprain your ankle in the woods, bench press your entire body. Picture this man in your mountain home with a full beard, a slightly grimy white henley, a fond half smile he reserves only for you. Now open the lid and smell Mountain Lodge.

Steady yourself on the man candle display. Give yourself a second. No, you’re not wrong. Yes, the Yankee Candle Company has just eliminated the need for men. This medium tumbler Mountain Lodge candle jar is now your boyfriend. The Yankee Candle Company has effectively replaced the need for contact with the male half of our species with a compact and clean-burning candle in a jar.

“Do you like this one?” the cashier asked, ringing me up. “Every man should be required by law to smell like what this candle smells like,” I replied intensely. “That’ll be $12.01,” she said.

MOUNTAIN LODGE

it literally smells like waking up on a cold night to find a bearded richard armitage adding another quilt to the bed before he gets back in and pulls you snugly against his chest

I’m not fucking around I feel like I should be watching chris hemsworth in flannel and suspenders whittling a delicate masterpiece in front of a fireplace rn

All right, Tumblr, I saw this post a few months ago and immediately realized I had to smell this candle.  I have never in my life experienced such a burning need (pun intended) to smell what the Yankee Candle website described as a warm aroma of cedarwood and sage, but what Tumblr described as my new boyfriend.

The trouble is that nearest Yankee Candle Company store was a bit of a trek, and my schedule tended to prohibit this olfactory adventure.

So for the last few weeks, as I’d scroll my Tumblr dash and look at images of attractive manly men, I’d sigh and wistfully think, if only I could engage another sense with this image. If only I could I could truly fathom the ideal fragrance of this man.

And then this happened.

And I knew.

I knew whatever was happening, I needed to get to a Yankee Candle Company. The scent of Mountain Lodge would transport me instantly to this scene. The aroma of this infamous candle could make me live out a self-insertion Avengers fanfic.

So I got in my car, made the drive, and located the Yankee Candle Company.  The store was crowded with holiday shoppers. My nose was immediately assaulted by hundreds of warring scents.  

I battled through the sea of humanity and the Angel Wings-Merry Marshmallow-Magical Frosted Forest assault, buoyed on by my need to understand what Steve Rogers ripping a log in half with his bare hands smelled like.

I waded toward the back of the store, only to discover the man candle section seems to have been discontinued. What was I going to steady myself on, once I found my scented gateway to hanging out with the Avengers on Hawkeye’s farm? I felt lost, adrift, unable to find my bearings amid Soft Blanket-Fluffy Towels-Home Sweet Home.

And then… rising from the “Fresh” display, there it was.

Mountain Lodge.

It was the moment of truth. What would it be like to smell this infamous candle?

I opened the lid. I took a deep breath.

And I giggled.

Ah yes.  This was it.  This gentle, pleasantly masculine fragrance, in fact, reduced me to what I’d probably do in the actual presence of Chris Evans: giggle like an idiot.

The smell makes me smile, makes me laugh, makes me gently swoon: all reactions that, indeed, can be elicited by an ideal man. I can barely handle the true power of Mountain Lodge.

Several months have passed since this discovery. I have regaled friends with the saga, and after hearing of it, they, too, felt the burning need to smell the candle.  One by one, we have all become Mountain Lodge converts. In times of need, this candle is our refuge. Our group has developed escapist superpowers, infused by the Yankee Candle Company. 

THE CANDLE, THE MYTH, THE LEGEND.  

MOUNTAIN LODGE.

This is how you do advertisement

we love everything about all of this. We will always be there for you, just light your Mountain Lodge candle and know that our love burns bright for you.

The official Yankee Candle™ tumblr account has recognized the Mountain Lodge mythos. My work on the material plane is finally complete. A being of pure light, I slowly ascend to the aether.

(via academicfeminist)

shonilane:

madgastronomer:

unitsoul:

cinderfell:

so i think i mentioned how my entire junior class got to sit in our auditorium and listen to ruby bridges talk about racism for two hours yesterday, but i didn’t talk about one of the most powerful moments in the presentation?

so we got to the end—like, the last twenty minutes—and she asked for questions. and we had a few standard questions (”how do you feel about people taking their education for granted?” “what would you say to the people who stood outside and protested you going to school if you met them again?”) but there was this kid waiting in the question line fidgeting nervously. and everybody could see it?? when he finally got up to ask his question, he asked her about her opinion on the events on ferguson.

and she mentioned her sons again, who she talked about earlier in the presentation. and then she told us about her son who was murdered. and she talked about the mothers who had their children taken away and how if you took a life unjustly and forsake your role as a keeper of the peace, you should be punished. and then she talked about how everybody chooses a side in this thing; good and evil.

and then she said that racism today is scarier than it was to her when she was growing up.

and the entire junior class was silent.

for those of you who don’t know, Ruby Bridges was the first black american child (one of the first???) to go to an all white school in the south, meaning all those photos you’ve seen of little black kids being harassed by a violent mob full of white adults - she grew up with that. and despite growing up in that environment she still thinks racism today is scarier than when she was growing up. idk but that comment got to me. 

to everyone who has said that racism is gone or isnt as bad as it used to be “back then” - here’s someone who grew up “back then” saying that not only is racism is still alive today, but it’s even scarier than it was when she was growing up. go and read that comment again and think about it

For those who don’t know, the famous Norman Rockwell painting of the little Black girl being escorted by four US Marshals? That’s Ms. Bridges.

She was one of the first six Black children chosen to integrate New Orleans schools. Two of those chose to stay at their original schools after all. The other three went to a different school. Ruby was alone. Six years old, and all alone, escorted to and from school by US Marshals assigned to her personally by President Eisenhower.

White children pulled out of school when she was enrolled. White teachers refused to teach her. Only one teacher could be found who was willing to teach her, and that woman taught a class of one for an entire year. She received daily death threats, including from one woman who waited for her every single day in order to threaten to poison her. She could eat only food prepared at home that her Marshals had kept watch over. Her father lost his job. Her grandparents, who were sharecroppers, were turned off their land.

And she says racism is more frightening today.

Well, damn.

(Source: rangervex, via lupinatic)