Tom Hiddleston dancing. Again.
(Source: pettey)
One of the good things about being blind is I don’t have to waste my time worrying about appearances. I don’t care what I look like. I’m not looking for anyone’s approval. I know who I am.

I wanted to try giving Shep some hair. I’ll try harder in the future.
(Also no Kaidan, no you don’t ever get used to it. Vancouver, baby, I love you but oh man so much rain.)
if shepard complains about his hair after—after they come in from the rain, wiping off their shoes, shrugging out of their jackets, all these simple things that strain at shepard’s shoulders and pinch his toes, something he’s getting used to but slowly, slowly, along with the damn vancouver rain—then all he’ll have to do is turn to kaidan, who has one eyebrow already raised. that vancouver humidity is hell on thick hair, and kaidan’s got the thickest. ‘get used to it, huh?’ shepard asks, hand still warm from where kaidan was holding it, sharing that warmth again with his palm on the side of kaidan’s throat. protecting their right to get wet without an umbrella, the pulse under shepard’s thumb, the curl at kaidan’s temple. ‘sure, i think i could do that.’

I lied. Apparently I also drew this.
Shepard can’t fight migraines. But, he can snuggle, right? Close enough.

my Borra headcanon: this is the precise moment when Bolin knew it was real love.
(Source: watayaarata)