A N T I M A T T E R

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I’m not that special. I’m just anonymous. I’m just alone.

”I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

amanda: night folks! :^)

Dumbledore: Harry, do you know why Professor Quirrell couldn’t bear to have you touch him? It was because of your mother. She sacrificed herself for you, and that kind of act leaves a mark. Oh, no - this kind of mark cannot be seen. It lives in your very skin. Harry: What is it? Dumbledore: Love, Harry. Love.

Anyone can be killed.

I know she is proud. How not? What else was left her but pride? I know she is strong. How not? The Dothraki despise weakness. If Daenerys had been weak, she would have perished with Viserys. I know she is fierce. Astapor, Yunkai, and Meereen are proof enough of that. She has survived assassins and conspiracies and fell sorceries, grieved for a brother and a husband and a son, trod the cities of the slavers to dust beneath her dainty sandalled feet.

//// And suddenly the hag was there, standing in the crowd with her pendulous teats and her warty greenish skin, leering with the rest, with malice shining from her crusty yellow eyes. “Queen you shall be,” she hissed, “until there comes another, younger and more beautiful, to cast you down and take all you hold most dear.” And then there was no stopping the tears. They burned down the queen’s cheeks like acid.

Dragon’s eggs, Daenerys, from the Shadow Lands beyond Asshai. The ages have turned them to stone but they will always be beautiful.

If there is one thing Voldemort cannot understand, it is love. Love as powerful as your mother’s for you leaves it’s own mark. To have been loved so deeply, even though the person who loved us is gone, will give us some protection forever.

The Hunger Games: Redesigned. Inspired by x.

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