"You should thank me for helping you." I grit my teeth. "Thank you? You almost stabbed my ear, and you spent the entire time taunting me. Why should I thank you?” “You know, I’m getting a little tired of waiting for you to catch on!” He glares at me, and even when he glares, his eyes look thoughtful. Their shade of blue is peculiar, so dark it is almost black, with a small patch of lighter blue on the left iris, right next to the corner of his eye. “Catch on? Catch on to what? That you wanted to prove to Eric how tough you are? That you’re sadistic, just like he is?” “I am not sadistic.” He doesn’t yell. I wish he would yell. It would scare me less. He leans his face close to mine, which reminds me of lying inches away from the attack dog’s fangs in the aptitude test, and says, "If I wanted to hurt you, don’t you think I would have already?" He crosses the room and slams the point of a knife so hard into the table that it sticks there, handle toward the ceiling. “I—” I start to shout, but he’s already gone. I scream, frustrated, and wipe some of the blood from my ear.
♛ make me choose
jaimeswhitecloak asked: house lannister or house martell
"Look, the Pie!"-Ancient proverb for defusing tense family situations (via alphalewolf)
Isn’t everything we do in life a way to be loved a little more?
They were all of them warm in their admiration; and at that moment she felt that to be mistress of Pemberley might be something!
While leaving the David Letterman show, Emma stopped to pose for a photo with a young girl. When heading to her car Emma overheard the girl say that the photo didn’t turn out, so she ran back to retake the photo.
"Come with me," she whispers so low that she does not think he hears her, but it does not matter — she knows that he has spent too long fighting against life to know how to stop.
His hair is slicked back with perspiration and his desire to fully see the world around him, and it a stark reminder of their youth. Of him, and Hogwarts, and when she had first encountered him with his hair like that. There are moments, huge lapses of time, that hang between that faded twelve year image and the one she sees so defined and hard in front of her. She feels time, heavy and cruel inside her chest, swelling up along her skin until she feels bruised by it. He was a horrible little boy, who became this man in front of her now. And while he stands there as a single speck among the hordes of war and loss, she sees him in sharp, bold lines against a backdrop of faint colors and other people’s lives. Because while Draco Malfoy is nothing to the world, he…he is everything to her. -(Chapter 47: The Fallout)