Signs As Unhinged Things Harry Has Done

The ‘Taylor Swift’ smile.

kinda sad to get to the time of year when everyone on the internet starts memeing about how they gotta go play hours of #cool-special-indie music on mute for the next few months just so their spotify wrapped looks good at the end of the year. idk i just find it depressing to see how even your most private and personal joys, even the music you listen to, must be tweaked and polished and contrived so it can be presented to the world. how even your taste in music must be performed.

if u reblog this in 45 seconds u will meet ur favorite musician(s). no matter what. they will be raised from the dead 4 u.

*sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he did that” *sees a picture of harry* “i can’t believe he

𝐇𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐫𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭.

𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟔.𝟔𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐞, 𝐬𝐞𝐱𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭

Thursday, 13 September 2018

Y/N felt weird. She had felt like this most days over the past three months. It was as if her body was restless, wanting to do something that her head did not know what was, and so she had found herself walking about her house in Nottingham, trying to find an answer somewhere that had never revealed itself. Sometimes, she looked out at the front of the house as if waiting for something or someone. Maybe Marcela would show herself again, maybe Finian or Kit would drive up and explain everything. But nothing happened. Nothing at all.

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to lovely humans who were excluded from invitations, left behind when they tied their shoes, forced to walk in the grass when the sidewalk was full, spoken over when you tried to contribute, whispered about or laughed at, given the side eye when you tried to fit in... you are so worthy of love and I’m sorry people have convinced you otherwise. I promise that your people are out there - people who will see the side of you others ignore, people who share weird inside jokes with you, give you affectionate nicknames and go to museums or roadtrips with you and fulfil whatever idea of friendship you’ve always fantasized about. even if you feel like an empty shell of your former self because you’ve hidden yourself away due to shame, this exterior will melt when you accept yourself or let people in and you’ll realize there was nothing wrong with you all along. you have interesting things to say, you deserve new chances and beginnings, your heart is probably made of gold because you know what it’s like to be left out in the cold, and you have so much to give. you are so worthy and someone’s idea of a friend too, and I hope you receive lots of hugs in the future from yourself and others because you’re so lovable.

so I got into grad school today with my shitty 2.8 gpa and the moral of the story is reblog those good luck posts for the love of god

𝐁𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 𝟏𝟐.𝟏𝐤 𝐍𝐁: 𝐚𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐡𝐨𝐥, 𝐚𝐧𝐱𝐢𝐞𝐭𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐞𝐫, 𝐞𝐱𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐭 𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐮𝐚𝐠𝐞

A/N: IT’S FINALLY HERE! ARCHITECT!HARRY! 🏛️❣️✨ It’s been ages since I posted writing on here and it feels good to be back! Believe me when I say that though nothing much happens in this chapter, something will go down in absolutely every chapter, so you’ll hopefully be entertained at one point AOIJFOIREJ! I absolutely adore architect!harry (yearly as much as I adore you lot), I hope you lot will too! Now, let’s start this journey, shall we? 🥰🌟

Friday, 15 September 2017

Monday September 8th 2014. Y/N had spent an abnormal amount of time thinking about that day over the last three years. Sometimes, even if she were in the middle of something else or thinking about a topic completely unrelated, it would just come back to her. Like a flash, as if someone turned on the dim light inside a dark room, she would be taken back to a time, a moment, that would be burned into her brain forever. It would paralyse her for a few seconds, making her unable to do or think or be anything besides that memory. It was almost like, at this point, she thought the ghost of her sister would never quite leave her.

Okumaya devam et

Ivan Konstantinovich Aivazovsky - Winter landscape, 1880s.