Basically Bookish

Welcome to my blog! It's basically my venting place about my irrational book-obsessions, but also contains some other things I love, like tv shows, movies, etc. Feel free to contact me or request an edit any time! 

[andrea-way-deactivated20200221]

About the Houses

Hufflepuff is tea and sweaters. Hufflepuff is punching someone in the face because they need to shut up, calm down, or get the sense knocked into them. Hufflepuff is spring, seeing winter melting away and basking in the sunlight. Hufflepuff is singing loudly to Journey and Queen. Hufflepuff is having the messiest room and yet knowing exactly where to find everything. Hufflepuff is “there’s no such thing as too much chocolate”. Hufflepuff is one too many glasses of champagne so the world feels like sunshine. Hufflepuff is honestly not giving a damn what anyone else thinks. Hufflepuff is prank wars that spiral out of control. Hufflepuff is getting shit done while everyone else argues. Hufflepuff is refusing to fit into the mold, which results in hufflepunks. Hufflepuff is staying up till three am to talk someone out of depression, out of suicide, out of something stupid, convincing them how amazing and how loved they are. Hufflepuff is loyalty, is true friendship, not the plastic My Little Pony stuff but the true friendship. Hufflepuff is the first ones to get Netflix running at Hogwarts, despite magical interference. Hufflepuff is loneliness, is the intense desire for friendship. Hufflepuff is having to deal with derision and scorn. Hufflepuff is loyalty placed in the wrong ideal, loving the wrong person. Hufflepuff is drowning in emotions that bring panic attacks.

Ravenclaw is winter peace and blizzards. Ravenclaw is the beauty of white snow against evergreens and a baby blue sky. Ravenclaw is the sharpness and cutting edge of a cold breeze, the glint of a metal blade. Ravenclaw is the silence of a library, lost completely in a world of ink and screens and words. Ravenclaw is a glass of wine and an old friend. Ravenclaw is martial arts and street smart. Ravenclaw is always asking why. Ravenclaw is pages filled with writing and doodles and diagrams. Ravenclaw is telling dirty jokes in code so no one can tell why you’re laughing so hard you can’t breathe, and the teacher can’t read the notes you were passing in class. Ravenclaw is failing a class because you couldn’t be bothered to read or do homework, it was too boring and you had other things. Ravenclaw is challenging the status-quo and saying “there’s always another option”. Ravenclaw is citrus and a stash of junk food that you always seem to eat right away. Ravenclaw is learning a new language because you want to. Ravenclaw is an innocent face that can hide the dirtiest mind. Ravenclaw is a pile of books that you’ll read - you will, you promise - one day. Ravenclaw is looking up and saying “hell, when did it get to be three thirty AM”, and you have classes in five hours but decide that staying up another half hour won’t hurt. Ravenclaw is love that happens slowly, like creeping ivy, till one day you wake up and realize it’s ensnared you tightly and you wouldn’t have it any other way. Ravenclaw is addiction, to coffee, to drugs, to sweets, anything to get that clarity and that swooping feeling. Ravenclaw is coldness, is locking away resentment to fester, is “revenge is a dish best served cold”. Ravenclaw is shutting up and never ever asking for help, because you’re smart enough, capable enough to handle it. Because you have to.

Gryffindor is summer, cloudless blue skies and endless green fields. Gryffindor is adrenaline highs and truth or dare. Gryffindor is bright red lipstick and cologne that makes heads turn. Gryffindor is parties that go all night. Gryffindor is fireworks exploding in the sky. Gryffindor is standing up to anyone, friend, foe, or stranger, to tell them they’re wrong. Gryffindor is throwing your friend a beer and jumping on their lap to take a nap. Gryffindor is the love of horror games. Gryffindor is steak and burgers, Gryffindor is spicy curry. Gryffindor is taking the risk, making the leap, no matter the odds. Gryffindor is raising your hand in class. Gryffindor is passionate love, whether it be romantic, platonic, or otherwise, that sees no difference in a hand picked wildflower and a diamond necklace as long as it makes the recipient happy. Gryffindor is defending, even if it’s defending someone you hate against someone you love, because Gryffindor stands up for what is right. Gryffindor is recklessness, the uncontrollable emotion, the carelessness with laws and rules. Gryffindor is choosing the ‘morally correct’ option even if it means more are hurt. Gryffindor is solving things brashly, physically, and only making everything worse.

Slytherin is fall evenings, the air crisp but not cold, the setting sun revealing autumn beauty before darkening to show a million billion stars in the indigo inky sky. Slytherin is when the air smells like cloves and cinnamon and smoke from the crackling bonfire. Slytherin is apple pie with vanilla ice cream. Slytherin is a glass of golden scotch. Slytherin is finding comfort in jeans and a leather jacket, dying your hair and tattoos that are like artwork. Slytherin is pride in your heritage, in what it took to get you here. Slytherin is the warm blossom of accomplishment in your chest. Slytherin is tall boots and long scarves. Slytherin is the person you’d trust with anything and everything, the one you love above all else, the one you’d kill for. Slytherin is not being afraid of the dark, but remembering that night heals. Slytherin is musky forests and the steady soothing rainfall. Slytherin is sarcasm and wit. Slytherin is determination in the face of fear. Slytherin is talking your way out of situations to keep those you love safe. Slytherin is the love that shows itself quietly from day to day, with quiet brushes and unsaid favors, but that rears up in fury to defend if necessary. Slytherin is the dark side, the morally ambiguous, the race to the finish line for whatever it is you desire, shoving others aside because you have to. Slytherin is locking yourself in a shadowed corner and curling up, because it’s too much… it’s too much… and wiping the tears and standing anyway, head held high because you can’t stop now, and you can’t show weakness.

Hufflepuffs are not weak. Ravenclaws are not heartless. Gryffindors are not arrogant. Slytherins are not evil.

Break Stereotypes. Be Open-Minded.

[basically-bookish]

All the Light We Cannot See by Anthony Doerr

“So how, children, does the brain, which lives without a spark of light, build for us a world full of light?”

[cilly-murphy]

“You’re an interesting man, Mr. Scamander. Just like your suitcase, I think there’s much more to you than meets the eye. Kicked out of Hogwarts for endangering human life with a beast yet one of your teachers argued strongly against your expulsion. I wonder what makes Albus Dumbledore so fond of you, Mr. Scamander.” —  Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them - Teaser Trailer

[tess-is-reading]

Fun story: I saw this trailer around 12:30 last night, and I was so excited I woke my sister @basically-bookish up and made her watch it with me.

[basically-bookish]

You made the right decision, but that's the only time. @thatravenclawgirl12

[emiliaclarkeresource]

Emilia Clarke and Sam Claflin behind the scenes of a new photoshoot for Me Before You.

[basically-bookish]

Getting a paper cut while reading:

Me: Oh, so now you're going to hurt me physically too?

[princecardan]

Lorien Legacies Characters & Planet Symbolism (insp.)

[thatsadifferentstory]

A patronus, Harry tells Hermione, is acing a test and the warmth of a butterbeer between your hands. It is your friends holding you when you fall, and Ron’s sparkling eyes when you whisper hi. And there’s an otter, swimming, and Hermione is blushing.

A patronus, Harry tells Ron, is Ginny’s shaky smile lighting up the world at the end of second year. It is winning the Quidditch World Cup, unwrapping yet another knitted jumper, and your startled surprise at the sight of Hermione punching Draco in the face. And there’s a dog, chasing the otter, and Ron is laughing.

A patronus, Harry tells Luna, is the feeling of starlight on your skin and grass between your bare toes. It is snow melting through your fingers, the magic your mother used to make, something singing in your heart when you stare at the impossible. And there’s a hare, jumping, and Luna is shining.

A patronus, Harry tells Cho, is Marietta shouting the lyrics of her favourite song, dancing in the rain during a storm. It is the look on Cedric’s face when he saw you at the Yule Ball, his hand holding yours and never letting go. And there’s a swan, sliding, and Cho is crying.

A patronus, Harry tells Seamus, is Dean’s funny expression when he is about to burst into laughter and the sound of a explosion that turns out right. It is the fireworks, bright flowers blossoming in the night sky; and the fire burning in your lungs as you fly. And there’s a fox, running, and Seamus is smirking.

A patronus, Harry tells Ginny, is the world expanding underneath you and the wind playing with your hair. It is dancing and laughing until there are tears on your cheeks, Molly’s disapproving voice and Arthur’s amused eyes after one of the twins’ pranks. And there’s a horse, flying, and Ginny is grinning.

A patronus, Harry thinks, is that weird feeling that lives in his chest when the Room of Requirement glows silver, speaking of times when the world was golden.

[intelligencehavingfun]

A patronus, Harry tells Neville, is the scent of freshly turned earth and the feel of the sun through the Greenhouse glass. It is working with your hands in a garden, helping fragile plants and tender seeds grow. It is being buried under friends at a Closing Feast, having won the victory through a different kind of courage. But there’s no victorious moment here, no animal appearing in swirling silver. Just a puff of smoke, insubstantial and insignificant and isn’t that just the way of it for him?

You’ll get there, Harry tells Neville. I mean, it took me ages to learn. You’ll find the right memory. Though Neville sees an uncertainty in his eyes when he says it that he’s all too used to.

And Harry is wrong. Neville doesn’t get it. Not that year, not in the year that follows, and not when Harry disappears and Neville is left to try and fill a space he knows he will never fit into. It’s his secret, the one he doesn’t tell anybody, that their leader, their hero, their general, can’t produce a patronus of his own.

A patronus, he tells so many others, is the feeling of your mother hugging you goodnight, of your father telling you he’s proud of all you’ve done. It’s family-filled Christmas mornings and sun-drenched summer days and the knowledge that you are protected, that you are safe, that you are loved. He feeds them the memories he wishes he had, and it works, for them, and he is proud of their successes. He is. He is.

And then, when the battle comes, as he always knew it would, they appear, black and lethal and full of despair. And he watches them swoop down on the battlefield, watches them prey on his friends, his soldiers, his comrades, and he fills with fury, that they dare come here, that they dare try to hurt the ones he has sworn to protect.

He is filled with fire, and he doesn’t even need the words. He points his wand, and a silvery shape explodes from its end, banishing the Dementors with its strength and size and power and fury. And as the massive lion makes its way back to where Neville stands, he knows the truth.

A patronus, he thinks, isn’t the feeling of dirt on his hands or the smell of the lilacs that grow outside his bedroom window. A patronus is a sad story told in bubble gum wrappers and vacant stares, a lifetime of criticisms and reprimands and knowing that he’ll never be good enough. It is a childhood with not enough happy memories in it, and a child who somehow overcame all that to stand where he is today.

Someday, a patronus will be the scent of flowers, the laughter of his child, the feeling of his beloved in his arms. Someday, it will be all those moments and memories he fed to others. But today, a patronus is seeing with his own two eyes that even in a world as dark and bleak and black as this one has become, there are things and people and ideas worth protecting. It is doubting yourself and your abilities and your worth, but in spite of that, never once doubting for the briefest instant that protecting those things and people and ideas matters so much more than protecting yourself.

[risarodil]

Made new posters for the Harry Potter series, with a little twist ;) In case you scrolled too fast and missed the instructions, you have to drag or click each poster!

I decided to have a bit more fun and tried to reimagine the book covers with the same trick. After a bit of research, I found out that there is a thing called “photochromic” ink that can change or reveal colors if exposed to UV or sunlight. The colors will revert to original once you remove the light source.

Applying the same concept to the book covers, I thought maybe the white parts can be printed with light reactive inks, so once you go outside and expose the books to the sun, the hidden messages will be revealed. And when you go back inside, the secret images will immediately change back to white. I intentionally designed the covers to look independent even without the invisible elements so people won’t realize the hidden messages until the surprising reveal ;)

I published the whole project with detailed descriptions over here. Then if you want the individual rebloggable posts, I compiled them here.

:D

[basically-bookish]

i feel like this is going to be my life in the future

[abigialadams-deactivated2016091]

tag yourself im john anger

[basically-bookish]

@thatravenclawgirl12 is jemmy and @bleedingetes is dad

[gaalavant]

I’M DEAD

[basically-bookish]

Whoever made this is my hero

[no-passaran]

Les Mis AU where everything is the same but Do You Hear the People Sing is replaced by this song

[casgirl]

My favorite part of mockingjay is when finnick punched all the mutts in the face and swims away to become a stay at home dad :)

[lokidlaufeyson]

When I’m 80 years old and sitting in my rocking chair, I’ll be reading Harry Potter. And my family will say to me, ‘After all this time?’ And I will say, “Always.”

[fangirltojaarch-blog]

Fangirl w Polsce już 29 lipca! <3

[basically-bookish]

My TBR after my birthday, Christmas, and my habit of buying way too many books at once!

[arwcnevenstar]

The Harry Potter Fandom (yep they’re still here)

[ilarual]

all of these are beautiful but I am reblogging because of the second one… I never knew how badly I needed to know that in at least one language Voldemort has the same name as Neville’s toad