waldafrey:

Margaery Tyrell flirting with chicks at her own wedding, and continuing to be a true inspiration to us all

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edwardspoonhands:

robscallon:

I found out one measure of Pharrell’s “Happy” is exactly 6 seconds…

A MILLION STARS!

video  music  

Good, you promised. No backing out.

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gyzym:

LET’S ALL PRETEND THAT THIS IS HOW IT IS, that steve and bucky are just regular people, hipsters, kids that grew up in each other’s pockets and never got sent over the edge of the train, or down with the ship, or into the cryo chamber, or to war. that they made it to the 21st century the same way everyone else did and neither one of them has ever woken up disoriented in a borrowed future. that somewhere deep down in the bowels of the city there is a train running with their initials carved painstakingly into the underside of the plastic seats, each of them using the other’s housekey to carve their bit on the ride home from school, and it’s as close as either one of them has ever come to being memorialized. 
let’s pretend that the only time steve’s ever thought bucky was dead was for those six terrible hours last summer, when bucky sprained his wrist at work and there was a mixup at the hospital, a message on steve’s machine that was meant for someone else. that bucky finally took a cab home alone after waiting fucking hours for steve to show up, only to let himself into their apartment and find steve plastered to him a second later, gasping these wet, strangled-sounding breaths against the side of bucky’s neck. that bucky didn’t know what had happened but guessed enough to let his own anger drain away, to close his eyes and wrap his arms around steve’s waist in apology.
let’s pretend that bucky’s never been anyone but himself except on painkillers, a couple of times, so zoned out after getting his wisdom teeth pulled that he couldn’t remember his name; that steve laughed, and brought him ice cream, told him he could be anyone he wanted to. that their hurts are easily catalogued and explained. that underneath bucky’s t-shirt there is a patchwork of freckles and musculature but few scars, nothing that would make anyone gasp and wonder, that if there’s blood on his hands its only his own, or steve’s, maybe, picked up patching him up, trying to hold them both together. that his sleeping dogs are left to lie and even awake, they’re not so terrible, little trespasses, mistakes, nothing that would make anyone bat an eyelash. 
let’s just pretend that this is it, the two of them, steve in a sweatshirt and plastic-rimmed glasses and bucky like this, black pants, black t-shirt, his v-neck stretched out from all the times steve’s grabbed him by it and drawn him in for a kiss. let’s pretend that this is just one of a hundred thousand moments before they go somewhere, anywhere — a party or a ballgame, dinner with their friends, the grocery store, even work. let’s pretend that this is the part of their day where steve checks again that he locked the door as bucky leans against the railing on the stairs, eyes fond, mouth parted around whatever conversation is coming easy between them today, and says, “c’mon, rogers, c’mon.” 

gyzym:

LET’S ALL PRETEND THAT THIS IS HOW IT IS, that steve and bucky are just regular people, hipsters, kids that grew up in each other’s pockets and never got sent over the edge of the train, or down with the ship, or into the cryo chamber, or to war. that they made it to the 21st century the same way everyone else did and neither one of them has ever woken up disoriented in a borrowed future. that somewhere deep down in the bowels of the city there is a train running with their initials carved painstakingly into the underside of the plastic seats, each of them using the other’s housekey to carve their bit on the ride home from school, and it’s as close as either one of them has ever come to being memorialized. 

let’s pretend that the only time steve’s ever thought bucky was dead was for those six terrible hours last summer, when bucky sprained his wrist at work and there was a mixup at the hospital, a message on steve’s machine that was meant for someone else. that bucky finally took a cab home alone after waiting fucking hours for steve to show up, only to let himself into their apartment and find steve plastered to him a second later, gasping these wet, strangled-sounding breaths against the side of bucky’s neck. that bucky didn’t know what had happened but guessed enough to let his own anger drain away, to close his eyes and wrap his arms around steve’s waist in apology.

let’s pretend that bucky’s never been anyone but himself except on painkillers, a couple of times, so zoned out after getting his wisdom teeth pulled that he couldn’t remember his name; that steve laughed, and brought him ice cream, told him he could be anyone he wanted to. that their hurts are easily catalogued and explained. that underneath bucky’s t-shirt there is a patchwork of freckles and musculature but few scars, nothing that would make anyone gasp and wonder, that if there’s blood on his hands its only his own, or steve’s, maybe, picked up patching him up, trying to hold them both together. that his sleeping dogs are left to lie and even awake, they’re not so terrible, little trespasses, mistakes, nothing that would make anyone bat an eyelash. 

let’s just pretend that this is it, the two of them, steve in a sweatshirt and plastic-rimmed glasses and bucky like this, black pants, black t-shirt, his v-neck stretched out from all the times steve’s grabbed him by it and drawn him in for a kiss. let’s pretend that this is just one of a hundred thousand moments before they go somewhere, anywhere — a party or a ballgame, dinner with their friends, the grocery store, even work. let’s pretend that this is the part of their day where steve checks again that he locked the door as bucky leans against the railing on the stairs, eyes fond, mouth parted around whatever conversation is coming easy between them today, and says, “c’mon, rogers, c’mon.” 

The first girl ever. And the message she delivers is terrifying.
 Remember. SurviveRun.

gif warning  tmr  teresa  

sexymalfoys:

"Dead."

and with that one word Narcissa Malfoy became one of the biggest bad asses in fictional history.

theivorytowercrumbles:

thefingerfuckingfemalefury:

xenainnuendoisland:

Requested.

CANON

THEY ARE QUEER

THEY ARE LOVERS

IT IS ACTUAL CANON OKAY <3

The difference between a show that had to dodge censors and a show that queerbaits for fans.

Can't you imagine it? If James and Lily were alive when Harry and Ron crashed the Ford Anglia into the Whomping Willow and the next day Harry gets a Howler and the whole Gryffindor table would be like 'Oh he's going to get chewed out' and then the Howler explodes and it's full of effusive praise. 'HARRY POTTER, THAT WAS TRULY INSPIRED. CRASHING A CAR INTO A TREE. NOT EVEN PADFOOT WOULD HAVE THOUGHT OF THAT. YOU'RE LIVING UP TO THE MARAUDER BLOOD THAT RUNS THROUGH YOUR VEINS.'
- Anonymous

believeinprongs:

AND HARRY SITS THERE TRYING NOT TO SMILE AS HE HEARS LILY IN THE DISTANCE GOING “NO JAMES NO, YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ENCOURAGING HIM HE IS IN SO MUCH TROUBLE.”

"LiLY DON’T GET IN THE WAY OF TRUE INHERITANCE."

AND RON’S LIKE “HARRY I HATE YOU SO MUCH”

hp  yesss  

THINGS THE TEEN WOLF FANDOM GENERALLY CAN AGREE UPON

unnecessarycombatroll:

1- Danny is cool and hip

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2- Lydia is a boss ass bitch

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3- Kate Argent is a fucking monster

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4- Coach Finstock is a goddamn treasure

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minderellahutch:

housewifeswag:

what-a-hoth:

This was my first splatter paint project that I did for my girlfriend before she left the states. It was a lot of fun and I can’t wait until she’s back so we can do more.

I wanna do this!

this is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen.

iouanowinscenario:

music for a minimalist
quiet, simple songs for someone who just wants to unwind

death cab for cutie - i will follow you into the dark // sleeping with sirens - scene five — with ears to see and eye to hear // paramore - interlude: i’m not angry anymore // jaime preciado - so contagious // ingrid michaelson - be ok [acoustic] // mayday parade - miserable at best // rihanna feat. mikky ekko - stay // rufus wainwright - hallelujah // weezer &amp; hayley williams - rainbow connection // valerie june - on my way / somebody to love (acoustic version) // fall out boy - young volcanoes (acoustic version) // tonight alive - amelia (acoustic version) // paramore - misguided ghosts // sleeping with sirens - scene three — stomach tied in knots // sugarland - shine the light // tonight alive - safe &amp; sound (acoustic version)

image credit

iouanowinscenario:

music for a minimalist
quiet, simple songs for someone who just wants to unwind

death cab for cutie - i will follow you into the dark // sleeping with sirens - scene five — with ears to see and eye to hear // paramore - interlude: i’m not angry anymore // jaime preciado - so contagious // ingrid michaelson - be ok [acoustic] // mayday parade - miserable at best // rihanna feat. mikky ekko - stay // rufus wainwright - hallelujah // weezer & hayley williams - rainbow connection // valerie june - on my way / somebody to love (acoustic version) // fall out boy - young volcanoes (acoustic version) // tonight alive - amelia (acoustic version) // paramore - misguided ghosts // sleeping with sirens - scene three — stomach tied in knots // sugarland - shine the light // tonight alive - safe & sound (acoustic version)

image credit