Don't Have A Drink Before Song 9. Well, It's Song 9.

Don't have a drink before song 9. Well, it's song 9.

Terry Wogan, to Graham Norton

Reblog if you would be comfortable living in a dormitory with an openly transgender or intersex individual. We’re working on a campaign for gender neutral housing and we could use your support.

I actually love this so much. It's perfect

Gryffindors are bright mornings, leaves dripping in gold. They’re the trailblazers, unafraid of the road ahead. They’re laughing so loud your stomach hurts, the knowledge that your friends are right behind you wherever you go. They’re ice skating with someone you love, clinging on to them for dear life. They’re make-believe games with quests and dragons and swords pointing at the sky. They’re rosy cheeks, winter winds and freezing hands. They’re the adrenaline when a plane takes off, the drop at the top of a rollercoaster. They’re delighted screams and freedom, the wind through your hair. They’re panting, pillow fights, feathers bursting into the air. They’re finger painting and festivals and burning sunsets. They’re the burn in your lung after chasing something you’ll never be able to catch. 

Hufflepuffs are honey and flowers and the soft autumn sun. They’re knitted jumpers and scarves and soft tan boots. They’re fresh air and nature, the sound of birds singing. They’re rolling down a hill in the spring, grass stains on your knees, daisy chains in your hair. They’re waving at someone across a crowded room, bright smiles and laughter. They’re coming home after a long day and seeing your family. They’re playing fetch with your dog, your cat weaving between your feet. They’re fluffy socks and song birds and kraft notebooks with hand drawn patterns. They’re throw cushions on a bed, a tiny cottage surrounded by wilderness. They’re the ground beneath your feet, the air that you breathe. They’re the light you chase when you thought you’d never see the morning. 

Ravenclaws are leather bound books and overstocked libraries. They’re waking up at two am to google that thing that’s bugging you. They’re journals with half the words crossed out, scribbles and ink stains and missing pages. They’re stretching when you’ve been hunched over all day, rolling off the edge of a bed, burrowing in blankets. They’re torch light and held breaths and reverent whispers. They’re the entire night sky and everything beyond it; the embodiment of the universe. They’re desperate searches and hidden castles and ghost stories by firelight. They’re the mystery of a dark corridor, the force of a whirlwind. They’re the excitement of discovery, the rustle of crunched up paper. They’re the last whisper before you fall asleep. 

Slytherins are foggy hillsides and picturesque landscapes. They’re hand written love notes and subtle glances across a classroom. They’re black boots, long coats, buttons done up to the top. They’re tipping your head back to breathe the air, kicking up stones on a deserted path. They’re mirrored lakes, everything below the surface. They’re the confidence to get something right, the feel of magic in your fingertips. They’re holding your breath underwater, pretending to be a mermaid when you swim. They’re finding that one song that makes you want to create a storm. They’re the chill in the breeze, the force in the tide. They’re enchanted forests and lingering glances and long drives. They’re the lightning and the thunder and everything in between. 

I completely agree with this. I always loved that Harry having glasses wasn’t a major plot point aside from friendly ribbing, it didn’t make him smart, or a ‘nerd’. It didn’t stop him from being good at sport and it didn’t make him the archetypal ‘ugly geek’ it was just a fact of life that other characters didn’t feel the need to constantly remark on. He just had them. NBD. And honestly, we need more protagonists with glasses, because, hey! I may be a speccy git, but I can be a hero too!

I hate reading fanfiction where Harry no longer has his glasses because he magically fixed his eyes. Right, because James, Albus and Minerva weren’t proof enough that there is no spell to cure eyesight. Besides that, I like Harry wearing glasses, it’s not often we get a hero with them.

I suppose I should feel disappointed in myself for being 100% trash and reblogging this but...

Muggles are not able to REBLOG this.

REBLOG this to prove you are not a Muggle.

my reblog button fucked up and i almost had a heart attack

I did it in the first try.

OH YEAH

The first thing that I thought when I saw the staging in front of the moon, I was like, "she's a werewolf"