an-arch-wherethrough:

second-breakfast:

can y’all shut the fuck up about snape when we had LITERALLY THE SWEETEST MAN EVER

Can we talk about how Hagrid is a half-giant and basically the only of his kind at Hogwarts? How his birth was revealed without his consent in a “news” article, causing parents to see him as incompetent and violent? How he took the fall for a crime he didn’t commit because he looked brutish and dumb compared to the golden-child prefect Tom Riddle, who accused him? How this caused him to miss out on the rest of his education and left him to be banned from using magic, the biggest indicator of outsider status in the magical world? How, despite all of this, he’s still genuinely a better person than a kid who got bullied a few times and became obsessive over the girl he didn’t get? How Hagrid’s love of those big, scary monsters isn’t because he’s silly or naive, but because he knows what it’s like to be seen as a monster when it’s not true?

Hagrid is miles more interesting and compelling, but people can’t get past the obsessive, creepy asshole.

I have strong feelings about Rubeus Hagrid.

(via humorrelated)

I’ll never punish my daughter for saying no.

The first time it comes out of her mouth, I’ll smile gleefully. As she repeats “No! No! No!” I’ll laugh, overjoyed. At a young age, she’ll have mastered a wonderful skill. A skill I’m still trying to learn. I know I’ll have to teach her that she has to eat her vegetables, and she has to take a nap. But “No” is not wrong. It is not disobedience.

1. She will know her feelings are valid.
2. She will know that when I no longer guide her, she still has a right to refuse.

The first time a boy pulls her hair after she says no, and the teacher tells her “boys will be boys,” we will go to her together, and explain that my daughter’s body is not a public amenity. That boy isn’t teasing her because he likes her, he is harassing her because it is allowed. I will not reinforce that opinion. If my son can understand that “no means no” so can everyone else’s.

3. She owes no one her silence, her time, or her cooperation.

The first time she tells a teacher, “No, that is wrong,” and proceeds to correct his public school, biased rhetoric, I’ll revel in the fact that she knows her history; that she knows our history. The first time she tells me “No” with the purpose and authority that each adult is entitled, I will stop. I will apologize. I will listen.

4. She is entitled to her feelings and her space. I, even as a parent, have no right to violate them.
5. No one has a right to violate them.

The first time my mother questions why I won’t make her kiss my great aunt at Christmas, I’ll explain that her space isn’t mine to control. That she gains nothing but self doubt when she is forced into unwanted affection. I’ll explain that “no” is a complete sentence. When the rest of my family questions why she is not made to wear a dress to our reunion dinner. I will explain that her expression is her own. It provides no growth to force her into unnecessary and unwanted situation.

6. She is entitled to her expression.

When my daughter leaves my home, and learns that the world is not as open, caring, and supportive as her mother, she will be prepared. She will know that she can return if she wishes, that the real world can wait. She will not want to. She will not need to. I will have prepared her, as much as I can, for a world that will try to push her down at every turn.

7. She is her own person. She is complete as she is.

I will never punish my daughter for saying no. I want “No” to be a familiar friend. I never want her to feel that she cannot say it. She will know how to call on “No” whenever it is needed, or wanted.