hamburgay:

Tumblr giveaway. Must be following me. Everyone is winner. Everyone gets to follow me. My posts are prizes. Enjoy blog friends.

There are strange likenesses between us, after all. Even you must have noticed. Both half-bloods, orphans, raised by Muggles. Probably the only two Parselmouths to come to Hogwarts since the Great Slytherin himself. We even look something alike … but after all, it was merely a lucky chance that saved you from me.

livesandliesofwizards:

The summer after graduation was irrevocably ruined when Potter learned to use the telephone.

“I wouldn’t have given you my number if I’d known you were going to call me all the time,” she told him after it had rung four times in one hour (particularly egregious even for him), “Do you really want to know what I think? I think you could get a job. You could make jobs. You could travel and help people. You have so much. But all you do is—is call me, and ride around on Black’s stupid bike, and — and you don’t care. Not really. I’m not sure you can care about others. You have too much. You’ve never had to give any of it up.”

Silence on the line.

“Stop calling me for every little thing!” she instructed, and hung up. And it must be said that she felt a little bad, but only a little. Because she liked him, but these were times of war and some of them had already had to give up so much, and him? He led a charmed life. He’d never had to give up anything.

But then on the other side of the line there was a young man, quite stupid in some ways but in other ways very persistent, giving up a spare room for his friends who had none, and giving up credibility with the Ministry by publicly siding with Dumbledore, and giving up Uncle Charlus’s conditional inheritance because the man was a bigoted fool — and learning, little by little, not simply to favor his friends. But to give things up. For others, for the greater good, or maybe just for her. But doing it all the same.

Though in a day or so he would call again to ask her opinion on something perfectly inane. There he would not give up. He remained persistent.

fearisforthewinter:

robbstark:

Explain to me why it is more noble to kill ten thousand men in battle than a dozen at dinner. (Tyrion VI, A Storm of Swords)

Don’t you just love it when Tywin Lannister does that thing in which he calls roughly 3,500 people ‘a dozen’. This is a quote that has always bothered me because I’ve seen a lot of people praising it and calling it smart. I know that war is a terrible thing, but Tywin is wrong: it is more noble to kill ten thousand men than “a dozen” at dinner based on the simple fact that those ten thousand people will have an opportunity to defend themselves or at least, an opportunity of being aware of the fact that they’re in battle. I think Tywin is mistaking ‘more noble’ for ‘better’ here - it would not be better to kill ten thousand men in the battlefield than “a dozen” at dinner because killing is wrong, period.  

At the Red Wedding, the Freys got the northmen drunk so they were unconscious or not sober enough to fight. Not to mention that they broke the Guest Right which by nature in Westeros is sacred and simply “cannot” be broken. And this is just leaving out the fact that by itself, the fact of killing an army after offering them an alliance and a night of peaceful rest is cruel.

These are the things that killing “a dozen” people at dinner instead of ten thousand in war is: smarter, crueller, more pragmatic, more cowardly.

It is not “more noble”.

#nobility is overrated and all but #yeah #there’s a reason why the reputations of the Boltons Freys and Lannisters are shit after the RW #there’s a reason Frey Pie happens #it’s not because Tywin’s a keen strategist

she5los:

Being a feminist is kind of like being Bruce Banner.

“My secret is… I’m always sick of this bullshit.”

lissomelle:

is this what it feels like finding out that i’ve got the guts to say anything?

 #yeah gonna have to rant in the tags for a mo’ about this character and how fucking much she means to me #i grew up in a small town in the southern u.s. and was told flat-out that i wasn’t attractive/didn’t matter because i’m asian #i grew up with virtually zero female protagonists who look like me so i always assumed this perception of me was correct #i grew up isolated from my peers because few people would have anything to do with me 

#i grew up on the fringes of a diaspora — and i always imagined that she did too 

#cho was a godsend for me #she felt so much and struggled because she felt so much #she was complex and i HATED how no one in fandom would acknowledge how valid she was in defending her friend and breaking ties with harry when he couldn’t see her side of the issue #the people in charge were TORTURING children not only for information but for emotionally manipulative purposes in general #it isn’t even a matter of bravery when the fact of the matter is that the people who were supposed to be nurturing these students were terrorizing and ABUSING them #and the fact that she stood up for her friend regardless of how unpopular it would make her struck such a chord with me

livesandliesofwizards:

Following his encounter with that clever young human who’d done him a good turn, the snake made it to Brazil. And he soon met up with likeminded souls - hissers and sibilaters and coiling slitherers, the hippest creatures in the jungle, the venomous rulers of their domain. No more zoos for him. Victorious, he shed his skin seventy times over, growing more and growing freer with each new incarnation of himself.

But he always suspected that he wasn’t like the other hissers. He’d had a conversation with one of the world’s walking (or rather stumbling, because who would choose to walk instead of slither?) nuisances, and he’d come out the better for it. He was changed. Cleverer. Brighter. Magical. Each time he shed his skin, he emerged stronger and more unique. But there was a contradiction there. The strength radiated from a strange, steadfast, inner part of him that would never shed or slither away or change. A thoroughly non-hip, un-snakelike part. The memory-keeping part of him. The part that worryingly suspected that his old friend couldn’t possibly be enjoying life as much as he was. The part that nevertheless wished the boy success.

This was the part of him that would not forget his amigo.

HARRY POTTER CHALLENGE || Favourite/Your House

graceebooks:

fandom morality puts good characters who unintentionally make bad choices below bad characters who intentionally do bad things

HARRY POTTER CHALLENGE || Scariest scene