occasionally I will explode into a butt of Joe Liebgott feelings; this is perfectly normal and will pass as soon as it comes.
Mary Elizabeth Winstead photographed by Matt Morris
Seven years ago, the world said it was the end of an era. News outlets prepared for what they thought - and perhaps hoped - would be their final coverage of the Harry Potter phenomenon. While small bookstores celebrated alongside readers, big box stores were gearing up for “one last midnight release.”
Seven years ago, we knew better. We were ready. We were decked out from head to toe, friends new and old by our side and wand at the ready. Maybe we were lining up, filling stores and sidewalks with our excited chatter, shutting down Harvard Yard with our music movement, pushing our favorite fansites’ servers to their limits. We were loud because we knew the rest of the night would be spent in silence. We knew we’d be reading well into daylight. We knew better.
Despite that, parts of us were scared that - beyond all reason - they were right. Scared that it would inexplicably fizzle out, that this would be the last time, that we’d reunite briefly for the remaining movies and then move on. We knew this wouldn’t happen, but fear resists reason and we were scared.
Seven years later, we’re still going strong and it’s easy to laugh at those fleeting concerns. It’s easier still to forget that we made this happen. We made conscious decisions to keep the Harry Potter community alive, to talk about what we’d just read and wonder what would happen next. Even when the first wave of discussion died down, the fandom went on. We hadn’t stopped loving Harry Potter. We’d only just begun.
Seven years ago, the Harry Potter Alliance was still just starting out. We’s made some big strides and had some - okay, more than just some - big ideas. In the time since then, you’ve helped us make some incredible moments possible. There are already too many campaigns, discussions, and memories to nail down in one tidy list. This fandom’s commitment to Harry Potter and each other is what made those big ideas possible and makes them possible still.
In just a few minutes, it’ll be midnight again and we’ll be celebrating the book that brought us all together - not for the first time and not for the last - seven years ago.
But first, we want to celebrate this community: the one that saw Harry through until the very end, the one that already has new things to count down to, the one that knows know what it knew then.
some muggleborn like “i want to be an astronaut when i grow up!”
wizard kids like “wtf is an astronaut”
"oh you know…the people who go to the moon"
shout-out to that time danielle got sick so este had to sing honey and i, thereby rendering me infertile
literature meme — ten prose [9/10]
Anne of the Island by Lucy Maud Montgomery (1915)
Anne of the Island is the third book in the Anne of Green Gables series and was published seven years after the bestselling Anne of Green Gables. In the continuing story of Anne Shirley, Anne attends Redmond College in Kingsport, where she is studying for her BA. [x]
New adventures lie ahead as Anne Shirley packs her bags, waves good-bye to childhood, and heads for Redmond College. With old friend Prissy Grant waiting in the bustling city of Kingsport and frivolous new pal Philippa Gordon at her side, Anne tucks her memories of rural Avonlea away and discovers life on her own terms, filled with surprises… including a marriage proposal from the worst fellow imaginable, the sale of her very first story, and a tragedy that teaches her a painful lesson. But tears turn to laughter when Anne and her friends move into an old cottage and an ornery black cat steals her heart. Little does Anne know that handsome Gilbert Blythe wants to win her heart, too. Suddenly Anne must decide if she’s ready for love… [x]
"What does it mean to have powers? To be able to look like someone I'm not?"━ Kamala Khan / Ms. Marvel
“Mother, he is a gentleman.
He is a builder with bricks of moonlight.
He knows the secret places of the earth.
He washes the sleep from the eyes of the souls.
He lets them look on beauty.
He lets them tell him they hate him.
In the mornings, I gather berries and apples.
I scrub his back with rind.
I weave spider-spit, eyelash.
He talks in his sleep: pudding, fire, discus,
the things he misses.
He breathes, Your body is my orchard.
I am undulating grass.
I am a field of wheat he parts with his fingers.
Poppies bloom in my veins.
When he kisses me, he tastes pomegranate.
The night crawls nearer.
The moans of the dead roll and swell.
Mother, we are well.”
Tara Mae Mulroy, Persephone Writes To Her Mother
Currently on a island in the atlantic isles this was the sunset last night.. Such a natural beauty here its amazing..
dragon print for ax because i.. love… dragons
IM TABLE E20!!! i’ll post a map later when i feel more alive ahh