LIKE YOU KNOW

10


January 30th: Happy Birthday, Lily Evans!
 (Featuring Karen Gillan)

"Not only was she a singularly gifted witch, she was also an uncommonly kind woman.”

"One of the brightest I ever taught. Vivacious, you know. Charming girl.


"I don’t imagine anyone who met her wouldn’t have liked her…very brave…very funny

/Thank you SO much for 10,000 followers! I could think of no better way to recognize the achievement than some self-indulgent Austinstuck with these nerds!

Dave likes to take John to random Austin hotspots, and take horribly unplanned pictures while John is talking. Unfortunately, Dave cut off part of the mural. Lol.(It’s probably Roxy taking the picture.)

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 One gifset per week 2k15Week 5 » Captain Swan + reaching out to one another.

For the sweet Maï

They're Back ~An Everlark One-Shot~

This fic was inspired by the ever talented Leticia ( unicorn-feelings), who managed to create such a wonderful edit of Everlark that it actually brought me to tears. It looks so realistic, like something that actually came from the movie, so naturally, I had to write a fic to go along with it.

Essentially, I’m denying that the last part of Mockingjay Part 1 even happened lol, but I think that’s better off. Katniss and Peeta deserve the world, deserve to be happy.

So, without further adoooo~

"They’re back."

Those two simple words are enough to send a bolt of energy, of anxiety, of relief, surging through my body.

I was petrified that the rescue mission was going to fail, and end up with fatal consequences. The moment we lost contact with the rebels, those brave souls who risked their lives for my request, I thought it was all over.

Not only did I believe I had lost Gale, but Peeta as well. 

The person who understands me in all of this. The person I would die to protect. The person I cannot live without.

But somehow, fate have it, they managed to return, safe and sound.

It takes me a moment to process what Haymitch just told me, before I’m barreling out the door, running blindly as I careen for the piece of my life that has been missing for far too long.

I think I can hear Finnick behind me, but I’m too wrapped around my own motives to pay him much notice. We arrive into the main ward of the District Thirteen hospital together, and immediately my eyes are scanning around.

He’s not here, or at least I don’t think so. But others certainly are.

I spy an emaciated feminine body on a gurney, and I find myself doing a double take.

"Johanna?" I weakly croak out.

She rips the breathing tube out of her nose, shoving medical attendants away, before giving me a sneer smile.

I stare at her agape, unable to say anything more. I’m absolutely horrified at her appearance; she has changed so much. 

If the Capitol was able to inflict that much damage on her, someone who wasn’t directly associated with me, then what they did to Peeta would have to be…

My throat clenches painfully, and I shake my head curtly to snap myself out of my thoughts.

No, he’s here. I have to remind myself that. He’s here in District Thirteen, alive.

It doesn’t matter if he’s completely bruised, battered, beaten and bloody; he’s Peeta. He’s my Peeta. And I will never let him from my sight again.

I jolt away from Johanna just in time to see Finnick crashing into Annie, their embrace tight and filled with tears. Is that how my reunion with Peeta will be?

Various nurses point me in the right direction, and I stumble towards the small hospital room in a daze. Giddiness has begun to flow through me, overtaking any fears I was once feeling.

Peeta. Peeta. Peeta.

His name sounds in my mind over and over again, causing my heart to race.

I can picture his shinning blue eyes, staring into mine with so much affection and gentleness laced behind them. I can hear the sound of his voice, the soft, sweet tone that never fails to soothe me. I can feel the strength of his arms, the solidity and warmth of his embrace.

It doesn’t even sink in that I’m crying, tears dripping periodically down my cheeks as my gait speeds up to a run.

Peeta. Peeta. Peeta.

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.

'you're a man who says 'i love you' whilst looking over a woman's shoulder, into the mirror'

third-degree burn holy shit

Me: *attempts to start a conversation*

Five seconds later

Me: *runs out of things to say and conversation promptly stops*

2

impress potential friends and potential employers by getting just the right amount of undershirt and parrot in your profile picture.

thank you!! wow!! shit this is really amazing and i feel so stupid for not catching it earlier but wow thank you all so much i dont know what to say and i feel like cryin

dixoniisms

When he’d managed to claw his way out from hell, Michael found the world above not much…different, from where he’d come, in a sense.

The dead walked the earth, their main driving force seeming to be eating…and nothing else. Thankfully, Michael managed to hold onto what grace he had, saving it for when things were dire-

-and before he really knew it, he found himself amongst a group of humans, fighting for their survival. The archangel had grown close to one of the humans in particular, being the only one he told what he truly was. He trusted Daryl, and it was unlikely that would be changed.

Michael found himself that one morning, almost lounging by Daryl’s side with one wing draped lazily over the other in place of a blanket.

"Good morning…"

as long as erza keeps her long hair i’m good

3

He has not been back an hour when Killian brings him shakily to the small loft he is left to assume is his brother’s home, introducing him weakly to a blonde he can tell by the glimmer in his eye he loves, and motioning to the other blonde in the corner.

Liam knows by his brothers movements that whatever situation they are in is wrong— he’d been given as much knowledge by his shakes and shivers and those first weakly muttered words pushed past from behind wide blue eyes; that he is dead.

But the woman in the back corner that smiles soft and shy has hair that shines silver and eyes that glisten bright as the ocean, and he is sure he never wants to look at anything that is not her again.

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I’m too lazy to render my own tallow anymore.
— 

white woman, in Boulder

submitted by Isabella