Just random stuff

engrprof:

dualscar:

captainexposition:

shermansgallifreyan:

oxboxer:

feferipixies:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

everythingis19:

cosmicsyzygy:

Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!

DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING
I NEVER REALIZED

are you serious
I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.
FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD
YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD

can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too
like voldemort couldnt even do that shit
molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that
who are you

Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!
PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT

Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.
Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.
“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“
Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.
“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”
Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.
Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”
“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”
Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”
“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.
“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”
“What’s yer point?”
“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”
“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”
Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”
And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.
“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.
••••••••
Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…

This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.
“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.
“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”
“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”
Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”
“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”
Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.”
“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.
“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”
The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”

IT GOT BETTER

I WANT this book!

engrprof:

dualscar:

captainexposition:

shermansgallifreyan:

oxboxer:

feferipixies:

the-fandoms-are-cool:

everythingis19:

cosmicsyzygy:

Look, I made a gif of this most awesome wizard at the Leaky Cauldron!

DUDE IS READING ‘A BRIEF HISTORY OF TIME’ BY STEPHEN HAWKING

I NEVER REALIZED

are you serious

I always assumed wizards just ignored science, because the fact that “magic” exists, can explain anything. But there are MuggleBorn wizards, ones who, until they were eleven, lived in the real world and learned science and things. Did they all just abandon that normal, muggle knowledge, like Harry did? It’s always been there, itching in the back of my mind.

FOUR FOR YOU SCIENCE WIZARD

YOU GO SCIENCE WIZARD

can we point out that he’s doing wandless magic too

like voldemort couldnt even do that shit

molly fuckin weasley couldnt fuckin do that

who are you

Quick, somebody write a book series about the adventures of Magic Prodigy Science Wizard!!!

PLEASE SOMEONE JUST DO IT

Alan Baker had no use for wands, of course. If one were to Prior Incantato his outdated, duct-taped rod of walnut wood and dragon heartstring, its most recent use would have been the enchantment of the long-lived neurons in Alan’s own mind. This enchantment, possible only for those who were capable of seeing themselves as a complex amalgamation of neural impulses, allowed him to bypass both wands and words. Alan did this, not for show, not for power, but because wandwork distracted him from his reading.

Unfortunately, there was no legal spell to get rid of barflies.

“Hey- hey mate, you gotta- gotta minute to-“

Sobrius, Alan thought, placing one hand on his neighbor’s forehead without looking up. He pondered whether or not to cast a silencing barrier, even in violation of the Leaky Cauldron’s safety code.

“Thanks,” said the now-sober man, “Readin’ more of that Muggle trash, I see.”

Alan closed his eyes and counted to three, but when he opened them, the man was still there. Alan lowered his “muggle trash” in defeat, meeting the baggy, bloodshot eyes of the wizard sitting across from him.

Alan leaned forward, placing his hands steeple-like on the table. “Mr. Fletcher, do you know why time turners don’t send you into space?”

“The sky, y’mean? Cause they’re fer time turnin’, not apparation.”

Alan had to take a deep breath. “No,” he replied, “If time turners weren’t anchored to anything, the Earth’s rotation alone would be enough to ensure a time traveler’s demise. But someone at the ministry was clever enough to anchor them to a carefully guarded object that never moves relative to the Earth.”

“Fascinat’n,” slurred Mundungus, whose eyes had glazed over once it became clear that Alan didn’t actually have a time turner on him.

“But time turners are still very limited,” continued Alan, more to himself than to Mundungus, “They can’t go more than seven hours back, and not forward at all, and only in increments of one hour, and they only work on Earth… no, they’re very clumsy, if one truly pauses to think about it.”

“What’s yer point?”

“My point is that while wizards are slowly stagnating in their backwards remnant of the Dark Ages, Muggles are making progress, ever reaching for the light. Do you know that they don’t need magic to craft a hand of living silver?”

“Bah,” was Mundungus’s only reply, “You’d be best mates with that Weasley nutcase at the ministry, you would.”

Alan stood up, silently casting an infantes gelata to check for paradoxes. “I don’t know why I bother with you,” he sighed, “you’ve just wasted another two minutes of my time. Perhaps I bother because I have time to waste.”

And he twisted, as if to apparate, but instead faded out of existence with a distinct vworp. The air swirled in the wake of his departure, blowing back Mundungus’s straggly ginger hair.

“Muggleborns,” the short wizard muttered, then turned back to his drink.

••••••••

Thirty minutes earlier, Alan lounged contentedly within his quieting barrier, stirring his cup of tea absently and rereading one of his favourite Muggle books. He wondered, vaguely, which planet held the nearest sapient life, and what their magic would look like…

This rereading, however, would be slightly shorter than the last. Even within the barrier, the presence of another at the table tickled at Alan’s consciousness. He set down his book (rather forcefully, he had to admit,) and looked up. The bloodshot eyes of Mundungus Fletcher didn’t meet him when his own rose.

“Hello,” mouthed the man. Finite Incantatum, thought Alan.

“Hello,” he answered, “Can I help you?”

“No, not really. Well, maybe. Well, probably. Have you seen anything strange lately? Disappearing cats, people moving backwards, variances in the time vortex causing precise and intentional reversal of the course of events?”

Alan couldn’t help but stare. “Er…now that you mention it, I was just…” he trailed off as he glanced out the window and did a double take. There was a 1960s-style Muggle police telephone box in the middle of Diagon Alley. “…Is…is that a telephone box?”

“No. Yes. Recreation. Mock-up. Don’t worry, nobody will notice,” the man said, waving his hand dismissively even as he pulled on a pair of what appeared to be cheap 3-D glasses. “What I want to know,” he murmured conspiratorially, “is what’s giving you that floaty, aurary, bizarrey stuff all over you, because that should not be happening to a human. Person. I said person”

Alan’s eyebrows furrowed. “First of all, this is Diagon Alley. Most people out there wouldn’t know a police box from a pillbox, especially given it’s bright blue. Second of all, those glasses shouldn’t give you the ability to see what you’re seeing. And thirdly, Expelliarmus.

“Expelliwhat?” the man squawked, just as a long, chunky metallic object with a blue tip shot out of his jacket pocket and into Alan’s hand. A quick Identification spell told him all he needed to know.

“Fuzzy logic neural interface configured for ease of use, limited nonverbal manipulation of mechanical and electronic objects…Interesting. And leaps and bounds beyond anything wizards or Muggles can conjure up. What are you?”

The man stared at him for a few minutes before breaking out in a wide smile. “Hello. I’m the Doctor. Let me tell you a little bit about the universe…”

IT GOT BETTER

I WANT this book!

engrprof:

laughterkey:

bobbycaputo:

braiker:

Are you fucking kidding me? Did we all just wake up in 1938?

The fuck is this?

JFC

What???

engrprof:

laughterkey:

bobbycaputo:

braiker:

Are you fucking kidding me? Did we all just wake up in 1938?

The fuck is this?

JFC

What???

“1:all fungi are edible.
2: some fungi are only edible once”
— Terry Pratchett (via bableman)

(via no-sense-of-humor-and-that-chin)

sophygurl:

katewithanxiety:

krazieleylines:

typicalpony:

How awesome does this sound though. You get infinite money and once a week you get to take a child to a candy store or toys or us or somewhere they love and buy them as much they want this would be fun given the kid wasn’t a brat.

There is no downside to this at all

"can you buy me disney world?’
"fuck yeah buddy"

Also, like, kids have fantastic ideas okay. Like, with my infinite monies maybe I’ll be thinking about boring stuff like buying a nice house and hiring some people to clean it.
A kid, on the other hand, will be like “BUY AN ENTIRE HOUSE MADE OUT OF TRAMPOLINES! HIRE DISNEY PRINCESSES TO COOK FOR YOU! BUY A THOUSAND TEDDY BEARS AND GIVE THEM TO SICK CHILDREN! BUY A PONY! BUY A PONY AND HAVE IT SURGICALLY ALTERED TO LOOK LIKE A UNICORN! GROW A HEDGE MAZE IN THE BACKYARD! HIDE COOL SHIT INSIDE IT LIKE STATUES MADE OF GLITTER AND THE BIGGEST CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE WORLD!”
IDEK, but kids man. Yea I’d let them tell me what to buy for a week out of each month if I had infinite monies.

sophygurl:

katewithanxiety:

krazieleylines:

typicalpony:

How awesome does this sound though. You get infinite money and once a week you get to take a child to a candy store or toys or us or somewhere they love and buy them as much they want this would be fun given the kid wasn’t a brat.

There is no downside to this at all

"can you buy me disney world?’

"fuck yeah buddy"

Also, like, kids have fantastic ideas okay. Like, with my infinite monies maybe I’ll be thinking about boring stuff like buying a nice house and hiring some people to clean it.

A kid, on the other hand, will be like “BUY AN ENTIRE HOUSE MADE OUT OF TRAMPOLINES! HIRE DISNEY PRINCESSES TO COOK FOR YOU! BUY A THOUSAND TEDDY BEARS AND GIVE THEM TO SICK CHILDREN! BUY A PONY! BUY A PONY AND HAVE IT SURGICALLY ALTERED TO LOOK LIKE A UNICORN! GROW A HEDGE MAZE IN THE BACKYARD! HIDE COOL SHIT INSIDE IT LIKE STATUES MADE OF GLITTER AND THE BIGGEST CHRISTMAS TREE IN THE WORLD!”

IDEK, but kids man. Yea I’d let them tell me what to buy for a week out of each month if I had infinite monies.

(Source: honeyipwnedthekids, via superwholockible)

smashsurvey:

Now think of how many of those female characters and protagonists are oversexed, created for the male gaze, or put in an inactive damsel role for the plot of the game. Representation matters. A Study last year proved that exposure to tv shows increased the self esteem of young white boys and markedly decreased the confidence and self esteem of girls across the board (and we haven’t even started on the representation of characters of color and the effect it has on children’s self perception). 

Video games are a different media, and even more concerning if representation metrics are changing how our kids think of themselves. Especially knowing that 67% of American Households have video game consoles and 91% of Children play video games regularlyhow do you think the portrayal (and lack of portrayals) of women and girls in these games is affecting little girls – or influencing how little boys view their importance and/or influence over them? 

Comics. Movies. Lit. Pop Culture. The Smash Survey is an upcoming podcast project that will critically explore the representation of race, gender, and queer identity in media and pop culture in a fun and engaging format. 

(via wilwheaton)

a-flying-emu:

bunniferbennett:

say it with me:

makeup is gender neutral

I whispered “makeup is gender neutral” out loud on the train and the guy next to me looked at me weird but then whispered “fuck yea” back

(Source: rabbittwalter, via thetrekkiehasthephonebox)

sailingsolo:

loki-dokey:

sunnymurasaki:

wtfml:

adventuresofawhitegirl:

simonwang:

I laughed so hard. It’s so in sync with the song.

image

I actually cried laughing.

EVERY TIME THIS APPEARS ON MY DASH

this video this video is incredible

OMFG TEARS ARE ROLLING DOWN MY CHEEKS

I am laughing so hard that my dad just came to see if i was okay.

(Source: videohall, via laughingstation)

bilesandthesourwolf:

Osric is a gift and I’m still upset about Kevin.

(via two-winchesters-and-castiel)

overlordofthelollipopguild:

mischiefmagicandmayhem:

febricant:

natreidess:

lbrossoit:

Well he missed a pretty god damn big one didn’t he

u fucked up, Tony
u fucked up big time

you had one job, Tony

what if he did find it though?
what if after the avengers, he just archived the data, fully intending to look at it all later, and then kind of forgot about it because he was too busy trying to tinker his trauma away?
what if after iron man 3 he got bored one day, went through his data banks, found all this damning evidence, and figured it out?
what if he found out during winter soldier and tried to contact someone, but steve and natasha were already underground, fury was faking the dead, hill was with fury, coulson and his team were being held hostage on the plane, clint was nowhere to be found, thor was in asgard, and bruce was on vacation in hawaii?
what if he couldn’t do anything about it because he’d gotten rid of all the suits?
what if he was building one from his old files and going to try to do something about it, but then jarvis brought up the news and all he could do was sit there and watch the helicarriers fall because as good as his tech was, it still couldn’t finish the armor fast enough for him to help?
what if he knew but he couldn’t do a thing to fix it?

overlordofthelollipopguild:

mischiefmagicandmayhem:

febricant:

natreidess:

lbrossoit:

Well he missed a pretty god damn big one didn’t he

u fucked up, Tony

u fucked up big time

you had one job, Tony

what if he did find it though?

what if after the avengers, he just archived the data, fully intending to look at it all later, and then kind of forgot about it because he was too busy trying to tinker his trauma away?

what if after iron man 3 he got bored one day, went through his data banks, found all this damning evidence, and figured it out?

what if he found out during winter soldier and tried to contact someone, but steve and natasha were already underground, fury was faking the dead, hill was with fury, coulson and his team were being held hostage on the plane, clint was nowhere to be found, thor was in asgard, and bruce was on vacation in hawaii?

what if he couldn’t do anything about it because he’d gotten rid of all the suits?

what if he was building one from his old files and going to try to do something about it, but then jarvis brought up the news and all he could do was sit there and watch the helicarriers fall because as good as his tech was, it still couldn’t finish the armor fast enough for him to help?

what if he knew but he couldn’t do a thing to fix it?

image

(via buckingbuckybarnes)