I slay blazes.
Sheree. (It means "dear" in French.) Aged 22 and a big ol' nerd, most of the time I think I'm hilarious. I hope my (multi-fandom) blog makes you a little happier. Click on 'tags' if you wanna know more about my blog; click on 'about me' if you wanna know more about, well, me.

Sometimes I liveblog things and make personal posts. My tags showcase my personality. I'm also angry at the patriarchy.

Queue is always on.

 slaying blazes


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theywereinseparable:

the Potters were to Sirius what the Weasleys were to Harry



the-final-bl0w:

This is so satisfying to watch..

the-final-bl0w:

This is so satisfying to watch..



Anna Kendrick for Zooey Magazine



Anonymous asked: "Some dark percy maybe? (◡‿◡✿) Pretty please with chocolate on top? (◕‿◕✿)"

greenconverses:

suchastart:

The thing about war is that it requires sacrifice, and the thing about love is that it makes its soldiers both strong and weak in all the most callused, broken ways—puppets on strings, children fighting their parents’ battles, afraid and brave and angry.

Percy loved Annabeth, and so fell into Hell to be at her side, fought for her life, succumbed to Mother Nature in order to allow Annabeth a chance to escape. Listened to Gaea’s lies-promises-prophecies from his bone-lined prison cell, her visions of nightmares-turned-glory crawling through his brain. Believed her, because what else did he have left?  Stood by her side. Became her drummer boy. A spoil of war. A prisoner. A champion.

Annabeth was a warrior, and so she let him. Seven billion lives weighed so much more than the hold Percy had on her heart. And anyway, what was the saying? If you loved someone, you had to let them go?

He should’ve let her go. If he had just let her go, as they hung over that precipice, if he’d just listened…

*

Ten months, thirteen days, and two hours after Hazel and Nico bled out on a marble slab to summon Gaea and her fiercest monsters, after Piper lead an army of demigods into battle, after Jason beheaded a titan, after Frank Zhang shoved a lightning-charged sword through Gaea’s dirt-mound of a chest—almost a year after the funerals and the parties and the many attempts to rejoin the real world where gods remained in the confines of their myths and monsters were stories that lived only in the dark shadows underneath beds—

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I



caption the couture [x]





spookyrikku:

Random NPCs who heal your pokemon

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lasertagandcigars:

The Final Page commentary

Craig Thomas: Future you could not have been clearer in the pilot. People still ask us! People still say ‘is Robin the mother?’

Like, what a bunch of dicks we’d be, if we completely subverted… that was in the pilot, that was one of the last lines in the pilot.



onlysaneman:

If we mutually follow each other on here there’s at least a 20% chance I’ve referred to you in a real life conversation as “someone I know”



padasp8jrsbowtie:

togamisnipple:

instead of flirting guys should just start doing weird complex dances in colorful outfits to seduce us like most birds of paradise do to attract mates

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That was the 70’s