Ok, I’m going to get off Tumblr and actually finish programming this fucking game now.
#ladies and gentlemen #meet ginevra molly weasley #teased 24/7 when she was growing up for having a crush on the famous harry potter #wasn’t allowed to play quidditch with her brothers because she was considered too weak and too little #was constantly overlooked and underestimated because of her size and timidity #was possessed by none other than lord voldemort for basically an entire year #almost fucking died #not only fought off said horcrux for a year #but survived #blossomed #THRIVED #grew up to be a shockingly well adjusted young woman #not even a year later she faced dementors and didn’t even pass out despite the trauma #made the house quidditch team because at the age of six she said ‘fuck it’ and taught herself how to fly on a broom #GREW UP TO PLAY THAT SAID SPORT PROFESSIONALLY LIKE A MOTHERFUCKING BOSS #GREW UP TO BE SENIOR SPORTS EDITOR OF THE FUCKING NEWSPAPER #not only learned how to standup for herself #but also for her fellow classmates #students who unlike her were still overlooked and underestimated #BECAUSE SHE IS HELLA FUCKING NICE SON #proved her bravery and skill by willingly fighting adult deatheaters at the age of 14 #and at the age of 15 #and at the age of 16 #FUCKING PWNED AND SURVIVED AGAIN AND AGAIN AND AGAIN #LIKE A BOSS #FUCKING LED THE D.A. #DO. YOU. EVEN. #fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck #ASDFGHJKL; #all in order to help those she cared about and loved #BECAUSE SHE LOVES AND CARES FIERCELY MMK #proved herself to be so charming and so fierce #that soon her pumpkin juice starting bringing all of the boys to her yard #owned her sexuality like a motherfucking QUEEN #when her own brother tried to slut-shame her you know she ended that shit right quick #COULD NOT BE TAMED #WILL NOT BE TAMED #not only won the heart of the D she was yearning for since the age of 10 #but also PUT A RING ON IT #you know thats right #she made sure that shit was hers forevaaaaa #became a momma who still profits dollas #THROW YOUR HANDS UP AT ME #you know she ballin #BASICALLY YOU FUCKWITS #MEET GINNY WEASLEY #the girl who could NOT be fucked with #the girl who proved all the haters wrong #THE GIRL WHO HAD NERVE
CALL HER “THE GIRL WHO WAITED” AND I’LL PISS ON YOUR SOUL
I went to get myself a newspaper to do the crossword, and a cup of coffee and a packet of cookies. I went and sat at a table.
I want you to picture the scene. It’s very important that you get this very clear in your mind.
Here’s the table, newspaper, cup of coffee, packet of cookies. There’s a guy sitting opposite me, perfectly ordinary-looking guy wearing a business suit, carrying a briefcase.
It didn’t look like he was going to do anything weird. What he did was this: he suddenly leaned across, picked up the packet of cookies, tore it open, took one out, and ate it.
Now this, I have to say, is the sort of thing the British are very bad at dealing with. There’s nothing in our background, upbringing, or education that teaches you how to deal with someone who in broad daylight has just stolen your cookies.
You know what would happen if this had been South Central Los Angeles. There would have very quickly been gunfire, helicopters coming in, CNN, you know… But in the end, I did what any red-blooded Englishman would do: I ignored it. And I stared at the newspaper, took a sip of coffee, tried to do a clue in the newspaper, couldn’t do anything, and thought, what am I going to do?
In the end I thought, nothing for it, I’ll just have to go for it, and I tried very hard not to notice the fact that the packet was already mysteriously opened. I took out a cookie for myself. I thought, that settled him. But it hadn’t because a moment or two later he did it again. He took another cookie.
Having not mentioned it the first time, it was somehow even harder to raise the subject the second time around. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but notice …” I mean, it doesn’t really work.
We went through the whole packet like this. When I say the whole packet, I mean there were only about eight cookies, but it felt like a lifetime. He took one, I took one, he took one, I took one. Finally, when we got to the end, he stood up and walked away.
Well, we exchanged meaningful looks, then he walked away, and I breathed a sigh of relief and sat back. A moment or two later the train was coming in, so I tossed back the rest of my coffee, stood up, picked up the newspaper, and underneath the newspaper were my cookies.
The thing I like particularly about this story is the sensation that somewhere in England there has been wandering around for the last quarter-century a perfectly ordinary guy who’s had the same exact story, only he doesn’t have the punch line. Douglas Adams (via poltergina)