when my mother was in my age, she was already in a relationship with my dad and they were on trips together and they lived together and everything, and what am i doing? watching the big bang theory in my bathrobe, alone in my room and running a blog about harry potter
>> before and after of my editing process?? i just brighten it up, slap in some saturation, smoothen the textures, blur some shit, then sharpen it all up..honestly it takes like a minute to do but i get a pretty shitty result i dunno u guys seem to like it so yah idk
you guys should read the captions i think they’re funny maybe
not for him, you’d be dead—or slaves to a servant of the Blight.
alone stood against Clarel’s madness.
have no one left of any significant rank.
l i s t a i r…
wind’s blown crisp and sharp all morning, frozen flakes crystallized in the
stubble of his jaw, and Cullen marches, steady, along with the forces of the
Inquisition. Skyhold looms large before them, Adamant a memory far behind, and
he hears the cacophony around him, his men, echoes of relief and muffled notes
of laughter as they walk the last of their journey home, and it doesn’t feel
like it should. They’re alive. Some badly injured and others barely
breathing, but they are breathing, enough to feel the cold air on their
skin, and it’s so much more than they could have hoped for. They’re alive,
Cullen reminds himself, and he marches forward, a backward leap in his chest.
where is Alistair?
march forward because of him, unfaltering steps in the snow. They march forward
because he was left behind, for the Wardens, for the Inquisition, and
the larger Skyhold grows before them, the farther Cullen feels, limbs numb and
heart as well, slightly hunched under the pressure straining his back. It
doesn’t feel real. Every now and then he halts and turns, furtive glances
over his shoulder, hopeful, and the breeze washes his frown away and it
hurts, leaving his face creased in foreign pain. There’s a longing in his
eyes that doesn’t go away and it ripples from his chest, gut churned and coiled
in dread, the sort of fear he can’t explain, and it grips his blood and it
wells in his throat and he wonders, why, after all this, why has he come
back to him, memories stirred alive, only to leave again?
one direction | 3234 words | ziam kink series | zayn malik / liam payne
“Wouldn’t cut my hair all off mate,” Zayn mumbles some time later when they’ve made it to the bed, Liam propped up against the headboard and Zayn curled up in a ball, his head resting on Liam’s thigh so he can play with Zayn’s hair. “Know how much you like it, don’t I?”
“I wouldn’t mind,” Liam insists. He likes everything about Zayn. He’s always liked everything about Zayn.
“You can brush it if you want,” Zayn says nonchalantly, his eyes still closed and Liam doesn’t know if he hears the hitch in Liam’s breath or pays attention to the way Liam’s hands still.
or the one where Liam wears lipstick and mascara and Zayn promises that next time, there’ll be lace panties.
Zayn can see Liam’s wired, a restless energy racing through his body as his gaze darts around the room. Curious, Zayn reaches out and slots his hand over Liam’s hip, deliberately brushing over the faint curve of Liam’s arse. Liam calms immediately, sinking into Zayn’s side as he stops his frenetic movements.
The first time Zayn realises that there might actually be something a bit wrong with him is when he’s half-asleep, watching Niall and Liam wrestle half-heartedly on the tour bus floor and he’s half-hard.
Or Zayn learns that he likes being pinned down, and he maybe wants to call Liam daddy.
I literally don’t understand at all when people go ‘You don’t defend Snape, but I bet you like the Marauders!” Because the Marauders, from the one snapshot we saw of them, were not exactly nice teenagers. They probably were bullies, and I’m not defending their actions. But Snape was literally involved in an organisation that systematically killed people that they deemed inferior to them.
Bullying is awful, but I think condoning and being actively involved in mass murder is just a little bit worse.