diary of the young and married

reasons why the princess diaries 2 is actually the best movie ever made

ok so i know that when we were all young fanchildren we all watched this movie and sighed dreamily. but i am here to tell u that this movie is even better than u remember

1. the main conflict in the movie is the arranged marriage. i’m gonna stop right here, because princesses in arranged marriages are a classic fanfiction trope that we are all trash for. don’t lie to yourself. but it gets BETTER. not only is there an arranged marriage… the guy she’s arranged to marry is actually a really chill dude. u like this dude. u know they would be good friends and partners. he would make a good king. but sHE DOESNT LOVE HIM!!! she doesn’t love him. and it would be so easy for the narrative to say ~oh look at this selfish girl she has a handsome titled good man ready to marry her she’s so SELFISH for wanting passion and true love, so naive~ (see fuckboys: i’m so nice and handsome why doesn’t she love me she’s horrible) instead the narrative presents her not marrying him as a perfectly valid choice and one the viewer sides with her on. the narrative supports her choice and makes it clear it was the right decision. ADDITIONALLY, the solution presented to fix the arranged marriage problem is to DESTROY THE PATRIARCHY. like???? don’t fuck with me this movie is perfect

2. literally the other main conflict is the love interest. he’s essentially a conman trying to convince mia to fall passionately in love with him so he can steal the throne. but along the way… he falls in love with her. THIS IS LITERALLY THE PLOT OF THREE THOUSAND FANFICTIONS PEOPLE

3. speaking of fanfiction…this movie is one. like, i’m not even joking. the first princess diaries movie essentially compiled the first 3 books into a movie, but the sequel wasn’t based on the books at all. disney just pulled something out of their asses and was like “this will make the fangirls happy”

4. at the beginning of the movie mia graduates from princeton’s woodrow wilson school of international affairs… literally one of the best international studies programs on the planet.. then she’s flown to a castle…where she’s a princess..and has hot men falling all over her…and wears ballgowns…like…mia is such a mary sue but somehow the movie manages to avoid making her one AT ALL

5. also holy shit??! mia doesn’t just stand around looking pretty as a princess.. she’s clearly really smart and genuinely cares about the people of genovia and does her best to serve them well even to it’s hard work… like damn mia is fucking committed to being a good queen she’s not just a princess because castles make good backdrops for romances

6. the queen/joe YAAASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS u fucking know u shipped that shit


8. chris pine. what a hot piece of ass amiright

9. the number of times something fucking bizarre happens to mia and she theoretically looks into the camera like she’s on the office is comedic gold honestly. the maids?? flirting with her arranged husband?? climbing out a window?? the fAKE LEG!? mia is just trying to live her life but the universe keeps fucking it up. i feel u mia. 

in sum i have n o idea how the fuck this movie got made but goddamn is it not god’s gift to man


nina‪: We started out as fetuses. Now we are women. The trips, adventures, and laughter I have shared with these beautiful souls makes me tear with joy. I love them more than I could ever explain or begin to put into words. Each of these photos is from season 1. We were all so young, and SO excited about the new and exciting show we had booked. And even more excited that we got to be a part of it together. It felt like we had this awesome little secret, no one had seen Vampire Diaries yet. But we couldn’t wait to spill the beans, for the pilot to air so people could see it. We hoped so much that people would like it. Prayed that it would be a success and continue for many years. We got our wish. 8 seasons later, some are engaged, some married and some have fetuses of their own. These are incredible women and forces to be reckoned with. I’m so proud of you all. #FlowerPower #TVDForever


Anne Frank at the Window 

In 1941 a young couple in Amsterdam were married. One wedding guest with a camera shot a home movie of the bride and groom coming out of an apartment building. The camera pans up for a few moments, about six seconds. From this view we see several neighbors leaning out of their windows to watch the wedding party down below. One of these people is a young girl, twelve-year-old Anne Frank. This is the only known footage of her.

A year later Anne would receive her famous diary for her thirteenth birthday. Only a month afterwards, the Frank family and four others would be forced into hiding due to the Nazi occupation of the Netherlands. It was here that Anne would write page after page of her thoughts in her diary, which she later intended to rewrite as a novel. Two years after going into hiding they would all be discovered by the police, arrested, and sent to a concentration camp. 

Anne would die, days after her sister Margot, of starvation and disease in Bergen-Belsen concentration camp around February or March of 1945. It is believed that she died just weeks before the camp was liberated by British soldiers. 

Today Anne’s diary has sold over 30,000,000 copies and has been translated into 67 languages. The young girl filmed at her window has become an international symbol of hope and faith in the goodness of humanity, even in the face of the most extreme adversity.

Gifs colorized by me, footage can be watched here

Nintendo for most Zelda games:
We want to keep Link’s possible love interests ambiguous and to a minimum because that’s not the point of our game

Nintendo for Breath of the Wild:
Everyone is wildly attracted to this young man. Princess Zelda? Yes she definitely loves Link in this game and we have 409 NPCs to inform you of this. The current Zora Princess of this period is keeping up the Ruto Tradition™ of wanting to marry him. Also, that Paya chick descended from Impa? She has a whole diary dedicated to pining for Link. And don’t forget the completely random Zora NPC named Kodah who nicknamed him “Linny” and admitted to yelling at him to choose between her and Mipha 100 years ago. Even when he’s cross dressing in Gerudo Town that weird running creep hits on him. You may as well add Sidon to this list. There is no escape. He captures the hearts of All. Run


*Philip Hamilton x Reader
*Word count: 2121

Summary: You somehow find a diary/journal of your old self and read through the contents of how you met your soulmate centuries ago.

Request: SOULMATE AU WITH PHILIP PLSS - @pearltheartist

A/N: Okay I had so much fun writing this and I hope you guys enjoy reading it and please send in more requests because I’m sick and noT going to school today k bye

And anything that’s italicized is memories/journal entries

Warnings: EXTREME FLUFF (idk someone might not like that???)

Originally posted by fuckyeahanthonyramos

“Nana, why do I have to go clean out your attic? Why can’t Liam do it?” You groaned, mentioning your brother as you climbed up the old stairs that led to your grandmother’s attic. “Because dear,” she called out, watching you climb up the stairs, “there may be some treasures up there that you might like.”

You looked down at her with furrowed brows, pursing your lips in question at her statement. She simply shrugged and wandered off, muttering something about making cookies for Liam and your grandfather.

Sighing, you opened the wooden door and pushed yourself up, letting out a low grunt as you did so. “I really need to start working out again,” you muttered, shaking your head as you looked around the old attic. The attic contained boxes upon boxes that probably contained items that hadn’t been used for years, along with piles of dust everywhere.

Running a hand through your hair, you nibbled on your bottom lip, not exactly sure where to start. “What on earth did nana think I’d find up here that I would love so much?” You wondered outloud to yourself, “all I see is boxes full of useless junk.”

“Stop complaining, Y/n.” You lectured, “nana sent you up here for a reason, obviously.”

When you finally decided to get to work, you grabbed the first box you saw, setting it down gently and opening the old box, coughing as dust flew everywhere, waving your hand in the air to blow it away. “Okay,” you breathed, beginning to rummage through the box and finding nothing of importance.

This continued for over an hour and you were to head back downstairs to complain to your grandmother, when something in the box you were currently looking through caught your eye. A black leather journal that looked like it was going to fall apart any minute now.

You slowly reached down to grab it, gently picking it up in fear that it would break if you tried to do anything else with it. Once you opened to a random page, your eyes narrowed as you recognized the familiar handwriting. It looked like your handwriting.

February third, 1795.
Dear diary,
Today me and my parents went to the Hamilton estate, something about me meeting my betrothed, which makes me uncomfortable at the mere thought of being forced to marry someone I didn’t love, especially if he wasn’t my soulmate. But, what can I do? I’m just a child, and a woman at that, I didn’t get any say in the matter at all. Mother didn’t look too happy either, muttering the entire way there about how “I shouldn’t be forced to live through what she did.” Whereas father was claiming it’d be good for both of our families if I married young Philip Hamilton when we were both eighteen years of age. I have indeed heard of the Hamilton’s before, but I have never met them. Mr. Hamilton was known for his over-the-top personality whereas Mrs. Hamilton was known for her soft and sweet nature. I knew nothing of Philip Hamilton, though. I do hope he is as great as my father says he is. We have arrived at their estate, I’ll update you later.
Y/n Y/l/n

Your eyes widened, nibbling on your bottom lip as you reread the journal entry over and over again. What made you more suspicious was that this girl had the same name as you. You somehow found yourself wanting to know what happened next, so you kept on reading:

Dear diary,
We have just gotten home and I’m very tired, yet I remembered I promised to update you on everything that happened before I went to visit the Hamilton family. I’ll tell you everything from start to finish. First, we were greeted by a maid, she was a nice young lady, yet she looked to be around my age, which made me feel unpleasant at the thought of these people forcing young girls to work. But nevertheless, I didn’t complain and allowed the girl to lead me and my parents to the parlor, where she said the family awaited us. Once we reached the parlor, she simply announced our names and curtsied, leaving right after. I remember feeling nervous as I came to see Mr. Hamilton staring at me with a straight face, but Mrs. Hamilton’s sweet smile made me feel comfortable after. “Mr and Mrs. Hamilton, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” I found myself saying, curtsying just like mother had taught me to do. “Please dear, call me Eliza.” I remember nodding, letting a short smile appear on my features before it disappeared right after. “Well, I suppose you must be here to meet our son. Philip, come here!” Mr. Hamilton called out, motioning for a young boy around my age to come downstairs. Once he did so, I felt my eyes widen as my mouth dropped into a slight ‘o’ at the sight of the boy. He was absolutely magnificent. I then remembered how unladylike my actions were and curtsied once more, “Y/n Y/l/n, pleasure to meet you.” I remember the boyish grin that appeared on his freckled face as he leaned down to kiss my hand gently. “Philip Hamilton, the pleasure is all mine, Ms. Y/n.” I don’t think anyone could ever understand how absolutely helpless I felt when he did that. I don’t think I can describe the smiles on our mother’s faces as they watched our actions. It was absolutely amazing. Well, I do fear that I’m starting to doze off… Until tomorrow
Y/n y/f/n

You were definitely gaping at the old journal now, everything seemed so similar, from the handwriting down to your name. You had the exact same name. Now, you were never one to believe in soulmates or reincarnation like your nana did, but this had seemed very suspicious.

“Dear? Did you find anything?” You heard nana call out, making you shake yourself out of your trance and call back, “yes nana, I did. I’m coming down now.” You gripped the journal tightly as you walked down the old ladder, closing the attic door behind you as you turned to your grandmother. “Well?” She asked expectantly, making you smile and show her the journal. Your grandmother’s eyes brightened as she gently took the journal from your hands and admired it, “I… recognize this…” She whispered breathlessly as she took in the sight of the old journal.

“The lady has the same handwriting and name as me, nana. Isn’t that strange?” Your grandmother nodded slightly, a breathless smile appearing on her lips as she opened the pages and flipped through them, letting out a soft sigh at the sight of ripped pages.

She eventually handed the journal back to you, leading you towards grandfather’s study. “Dear, you do know about soulmates, correct?” You sighed, slowly nodding your head. “Nana, you know I don’t believe in-” Your grandmother shushed you, cradling you in her arms making you set the journal down on your grandfather’s messy desk.

“Just let me speak, dear.” She whispered, pulling away yet she still gripped your arms as she gave you a large smile. “You know of soulmates and reincarnation, right?” You nodded slowly, frowning in confusion as her smile grew.

“You know me and your grandfather are soul mates, yes?” You nodded, sighing softly. Your grandparents were one of the few people in the world who met each other long ago and were soulmates, reincarnating together every time they died. “Well… This young lady you are reading about, that’s you.”

Your eyes widened as you laughed, pulling away from your grandmother. “Yeah, right,” you snorted, “and Beyonce is my mom. Nana, just because you were lucky enough to meet grandpa years ago and reincarnate with him, doesn’t mean we were as well.”

Your nana rolled her eyes, scoffing. “When you were reading this journal, what entry did you read?” You frowned, “something about her meeting Philip Hamilton, I guess they were betrothed or something.” Your nana squealed softly, “and do you know anyone by the name of Philip now?”

You nodded slowly, “uh yeah, we have World History and Biology together… Oh shit.”

“Watch your language,” she lectured before shaking her head and smiling again, “dear, next time you see him, talk to him. You won’t regret it.”

Later that night, when everyone else was asleep, you found yourself reading this girl’s journal some more, reading every entry from the first page and so on until you reached the end of the journal, which came to stop in the middle of the diary. There was only one more journal entry after this one:

November twenty-third, 1801.
Dear diary,
I have never met a man more foolish than Philip Hamilton, not even his father could be more foolish than he. This man, my soulmate, my betrothed, has decided to challenge Mr. Eacker to a duel all because he insulted his father. Philip, has always been a man of honor, he was unlike any man I had ever met before. He was sweet and caring like his mother, yet would do anything to protect his father’s legacy. And to make things worse, his father encouraged it. If I weren’t a lady of high respect, I would’ve given them both a piece of my mind. Anyway, I must sleep now, I’ll write back tomorrow.
Y/n Y/f/n

Your brows furrowed, your eyes were narrowed and you found yourself turning to the next page, desperately needing to know what happens next.

November twenty-fourth, 1801.
Dear diary,
Today, on the twenty-fourth, the love of my life has passed away at the hands of a dishonorable man. I watched as his mother and father screamed in aguish when he passed, I remember feeling his cold lips touch mine one more time before his closed his eyes, finally at rest. “I’ll come back for you,” I remember him promise, which had resulted in me crying, it hasn’t been the same anymore. He’s only been gone for a few hours yet for some reason, it feels like centuries. It feels like my whole entire world has turned upside down… Philip… He was my world. I couldn’t be more thankful for the six years we were able to spend together… The six years I was able to spend with my soulmate. I do hope I get to see him again soon, my heart cannot take this pain much longer.
I’m afraid this may be my last entry
Until next time,
Y/n Y/l/n

You felt tears form, wiping them away so they wouldn’t ruin the already thinning paper, and slowly closed the unfinished book, setting it down on your nightstand by your bed as you let out soft cries at the thought of never seeing him again.

Oh, I do hope I get to see him soon

The next morning, you hopped out of bed the minute you woke up, grabbing the journal as you ran and raced into the living room to find your grandmother waiting. You gently set the old notebook down and ran over to hug your grandmother, the smile never leaving your face as you did.

“I get it, nana.” You whispered as she hugged you back. “I’m going to see him again.” She pulled away from you and smiled down at your warmly, squeezing your upper-arms reassuringly. 

“Go get him, dear. I cannot wait to meet him.”

The next day, you were back in school, desperately searching around for Philip. You finally caught him talking to his group of friends, tossing his head back in laughter. For some reason, it all clicked. You received every memory of you two together and your smile grew as you felt yourself run faster and faster. 

“Philip!” You called, gaining his attention as you stopped a little bit away from him. He stopped talking to his friends and stared at you, his eyes widening as well as he took a few steps towards you, as if all of his memories were coming back as well. He opened his arms and you ran into them, wrapping your arms around his neck as his wrapped around your waist.

“Y/n…” He whispered, pressing a kiss to your temple. You both pulled away and gazed into each other’s eyes lovingly. “It was only a matter of time, my dear.” 

Salvatore Brother Imagine

“This is crazy” Damon said as him and Stefan walked down the row of chairs. “She’s too young” he kept being grumpy. 

“You know she isn’t. We both knew this was going to happen one day.” Stefan said as they both got to their seats. 

“Bullshit. I said I wasn’t okay with this. She can’t get married. She’s our little sister. ” Damon kept going on and on about how he wasn’t okay with this and that he didn’t trust the guy you were getting married to. It was all a lie. That was the first guy you dated that Damon liked. He just couldn’t believe that you were all grown up. He couldn’t let you go. He still felt like you were the little sister walking after him with your teddy bear in your hands. To him you would always be his baby sister. And he would always protect you. He was pulled out of his memories of you as a little girl by the sound of the wedding music. Him and Stefan waited for you to come and soon you came. All dressed in white and all grown up. 

“She isn’t little anymore”Stefan whispered to Damon not taking his eyes off of you. Damon looked at, as you walked by him he gave you a sweet smile and realty hit him. You didn’t need him anymore. You weren’t the little one who needed a protector. Damon let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and said 

“She really isn’t” it was sad to know you didn’t need him like you needed him before. You didn’t need a shoulder to cry on, you didn’t need someone to pick you up after a party, you didn’t need a shelter. But Damon would never stop being there for you no matter what. “But she’ll always be our little sister.”

Originally posted by the-vampire-diaries-gif

Micaela Almonester (1795-1874): The Survivor Baroness of New Orleans

This is the story of a survivor.

Micaela Almonester had everything going for her. Smart, beautiful, and sole heiress to one of the most prominent (and wealthy) couples in 19th century New Orleans, she was destined to do great things. Unfortunately, she would have to go through decades of misery before achieving them.

Keep reading

The Man in the Diary, Part 3

For anon’s prompt

 Part 1 Part 2

Dumbledore sighed heavily, placing his glasses on the desk beside him so as to rub his eyes with long, bony fingers. The Weasleys had left his office only moments earlier, a weary and broken unit of red rimmed eyes and wretched sobs. There was something inherently tragic about the death of someone so young, with lips sticky and sweet from treats and eyes wide, blind to the horrors of the world.

People were meant to grow. People were meant to be broken. They were meant to leave behind their mothers and fathers, to marry, to conceive children of their own. They were meant to be buried in their own cemetery plots, separated from their parents by a fence, a town, a country. They were not meant to be buried beside the two graves that would someday belong to their father, their mother. Families were not meant to remain whole in death, they were not meant to be buried side by side like that.

And the school would be closed, a decision that he agreed with. It was unsafe, and he would be damned if another child fell victim to the same cruel hand that had ended young Ginevra’s life. Though, he didn’t think that anyone else were in danger, if he were being honest.

He didn’t know for certain, but whatever role the youngest Weasley’s death had played in, there was no more need for it. No more need for another child to die.

But children did not need to die to be lost, and the thought alone made Dumbledore sigh once more, his shoulders sagging.

He was concerned for Harry, concerned by the wide and frightened look in those green eyes. Concerned for the way he made himself small, shrinking into a ball. Concerned by the way he perked up at Tom Riddle’s name, as if he had heard it before. As if it meant something. Concerned by the silence, the tightly pinched lips that seemed too purposeful to be unintentional.

Concerned by the fact that over the past several months, Harry had evidently become quite an accomplished occlumens, and that no amount of prying on his part could allow him in.


Harry sat against the tree, the letter clenched within his fist. He read over the words, eyes scanning the page, flicking over them as if they might change. As if he could will them to change.

‘We are sorry to inform you that Hogwarts will not be opening this year…’ 'Students have been enrolled into nearby schools, taken into consideration location and eligibility…’ 'Mr. Harry Potter has been accepted into Beauxbatons…’ 'Travel accommodations have been made and a train will depart from the usual platform of 9 ¾ at King’s Cross Station…’ 'Students are encouraged to leave the morning of August 31 so as to have time to familiarize themselves with their new schools…’

He crumpled the paper, holding it in his hands as he chewed his lips. Hogwarts was closed. It was his home, the closest thing he had had of such a thing, and now it was gone. For how long, he did not know.

His hands were clean, and yet if he strained, he thought he could still see the pink tint.

He had tried to tell Dumbledore of everything, he really had. He had even on more than one occasion sat down to write a letter, sitting up in bed after trying and failing to sleep for several hours. But the words would not come, and his scar would hiss in pain, roaring to life, blinding him. It was as if a hot poker was being pushed through his eyes, searing his brain. He was bound to secrecy, signing a contract he had not meant to sign.

He pressed the heel of his palm against his head, breathing in the fresh, earthy scent. Much of the town he lived in had been paved in concrete, buildings clustered together to fit as many in a row as possible. The woods he sat in now were perhaps the only of it’s kind for miles, and it had become a haven. Away from the Dursleys. Away from excitable and screaming children at the playground.

They had not been pleased at all to find that his school had let out early, and that he was expected to return home in May instead of midway through June. A student had died, and they suffered for it. They had taken away his room as punishment, locking him within the cupboard once more, the walls and cobwebs familiar, the spiders that inhabited the corners more of a family to him than the ones beyond the little space underneath the stairs.

He had written to Hermione and Ron, though Ron was slow to return them, his letters short, bare. He couldn’t imagine what the Weasleys were going through, they had even turned down a trip to Egypt offered as a reward from the Ministry.

He carded a hand through his hair, fingers trembling, tugging too hard at the roots. He exhaled, his chest shaking with the breath. Months had passed, he had not found the diary- the real one, crisp and hardened with blood. He had not spoken to Tom Riddle- to Voldemort- in the same amount of time, and hung his head, heavy with shame.

The entire time. It had been Lord Voldemort the entire time. He had not known how, he had not known exactly what sort of magic led to a young version of Lord Voldemort existing within the pages of a book. But he did, and Harry had spent an entire school year conversing with him, had confided in him, trusted him.

He had promised to help him escape the prison, and his hands were coated in blood.

He could hardly eat with the guilt of it all, and Dudley’s old clothes hung even looser on his skinny frame, the contours of his bones pressing too sharply against his skin. He looked sickly, with thick, shadowed bags below his eyes and his skin a sallow color, looking just as gray as the world within the diary had been.

He hadn’t slept, not properly, and all he wanted to do was confess, to tell someone what he knew and the role he had played and apologize because it was all his fault, if he hadn’t written in that bloody book none of this would have happened.

But even the thought of doing so left him with crippling pain, and once when he had brought pen to paper, ready to write it all down for Dumbledore, blood had dripped from his eyes, from his nose. Trickled down his neck from where it slipped over the shell of his ear. He had fainted before he could even write the u in the Headmaster’s name, his body thudding to the floor of the empty dining room.

He had not seen an optometrist, but he had held a hand over his left eye with no glasses on to determine that he had lost most of his vision in his right eye. That there was a bit of a film over it, like a cataract.

He physically could not admit to it, and he wasn’t sure why.

He startled at the sound of rustling leaves, a twig snapping under someone’s weight. He looked up, jumping to his feet and shuffling backwards at the sight of Tom Riddle standing between two trees, his forearms resting against them. He was smirking, lips skewed unevenly so one side was lifted higher than the other, a slight crescent of a dimple forming in his cheek.

Lord Voldemort had dimples.

“You,” Harry hissed, lacing the one singular word with as much venom as he possibly could.

Tom chuckled. “Me.”

Harry shook his arm, sliding the wand down from where it sat tucked in his sleeve and into his palm, curling his hand around it and aiming it at the wizard in defense. This only made his smirk deepen, his dark blue eyes gleam. “Not happy to see me, Harry? Pity, seeing as how happy I am to see you.”

“You tricked me!” Harry roared, his voice cracking over the words.

“Guilty,” Tom said, unabashed by the claim. He took a step forward, pausing as he flicked his gaze over Harry, humming in thought. “You’ve grown so much over a single summer. Funny how that happens, isn’t it? A child one month, practically a man the next.”

It wasn’t funny at all. Nothing he said was funny.

He should have cursed him, underage magic rules be damned. Surely, defending oneself against the Dark Lord was a special circumstance. But he didn’t curse him, chewing his lip instead as he asked the question that had tormented him since the night he awoken covered in blood, “What did you do to Ginny?”

He needed to know. He didn’t want to know, but he needed to. Perhaps if he knew what sort of spell Tom had used to free himself, he could reverse it, vanish him from the world permanently.

Tom frowned. “I protect you from being arrested for murder- hide all the evidence for you, even go to the trouble of occluding your mind, and you want to repay me by killing me? That isn’t very fair.” His tone was light, playful, and it made Harry’s stomach coil into a tight knot.

Occluding his mind? What had that meant? And was he able to read his thoughts?

His green eyes fell to the ground for a moment, flinching when Tom barked out a sharp laugh. “If you really must know, yes I can read your thoughts. And I did nothing to Ginny. You did it all yourself.”

He shook his head. “No, I would never-”

“It’s a shame you forgot it all. You might have enjoyed it, the way she cried, begging you to not hurt her. To not kill her,” he said the words as if reminiscing over a fond memory, his lips curled into a small, wry smile.

Harry’s lip trembled, his wand wavering in his grasp. “Why…why would I do that-”

Tom shrugged. “Because I told you to. You’ll find I can be rather persuasive when I need to be.” After a second, he added, “If it wasn’t her, it would have been you. The diary leeches onto a soul, whichever one pours itself onto the pages, and siphons the life from them, feeding it to me. I decided I rather liked you, and that another soul would have to do in your place. It took a bit of doing- some rather archaic usage of blood magic, but it did the trick you see.” He thumped a hand against a side, as if it was evidence of how alive he was. That he was flesh and blood and muscles and tissues instead of ink and paper. 

So that was it then? Ginny had died so that Harry wouldn’t- yet another instance in his life in which he had lived, another falling in his place. If possible, the guilt mounted even more within him, and he clenched his jaw, ground the crowns of his teeth together.

Tom took several steps forward, kicking pebbles out before him as he did so. Harry made to step back, to jab his wand forward, but branches burst through the earth, flinging dirt as they wrapped around his ankles, winding tightly around his clothed legs and locking him in place. He stumbled, waving his arms to prevent himself from falling backwards, when an unseen force tugged at his wand, pulling it from his grasp.

It flew in an arc in the air, settling in Tom’s outstretched hand as his fingers curled around it. He held it up, twirling it within his fingers experimentally, skewing his lips in thought. “It’s not as good as mine was, but extraordinarily close. Phoenix feather?” he asked.

“Go to hell,” Harry seethed, digging nails so deeply into his palm that he drew blood.

Tom took another step forward, until he stood directly before Harry, using the tip of the wand to push aside the air that had fallen over his face. A hand rose, cupping his chin to hold him in place as he looked at the scar with interest, blue eyes narrowed. “You are far more special than you give yourself credit for, Harry Potter,” he murmured. And then he bent his head, placing a chaste kiss to the small fragments cutting over Harry’s skin. It sparked, as if electrified, and something shot through him, something delicious and euphoric as if he were whole and complete and Harry was horrified to realize that he had leaned forward, a hand raised pressed flat against Tom’s chest to steady himself.

He quickly brought it back to his side, struggling against the hand that held onto his chin, a second hand reaching out and wrapping around his upper arm. “I’m not special. I’m nothing. Why don’t you just kill me and get it over with then? Isn’t that what you want- why you tried to kill me in the first place when I was a baby?”

Tom eyes flashed, the blue turning into red so quickly, so wholly, that it seemed to happen all at once, instead of a transition. The fingers around his chin tightened their hold, nails digging into flesh. “NO!” he roared, and Harry stiffened at the fire in his voice, at the warning that lurked beneath the words. Tom spoke again, his words lower and quieter yet far more frightening, the hair on Harry’s arm standing on end. “Nothing will harm you, not if I have anything to say about it. Not me, not Dumbledore, and certainly not that pathetic creature, searching for a new host to play parasite with until he can fix the mess he got himself into.”

It took only a second for Harry to understand what he meant by creature. Voldemort, the sliver of the man that had fed off Quirrell in his first year. He furrowed his brows at that. Were there two of them then? The younger version of him, stepping out from the encrypted pages of a book, and the one that had always existed, the one that had killed his mother and father?

And Tom was planning on…protecting him from Voldemort?

The hand on his chin moved, running through Harry’s hair and disheveling it before settling on the back of his neck. “Yes, it does mean I’m protecting you from him.”

If anything, it was more disconcerting to be offered his protection than to be threatened, and Harry squirmed against the hands that wrapped around him. The roots had risen to his hip, snaking further along him and holding him in place, and he could only wriggle his torso.

“Let me go,” Harry hissed, raising his hands and shoving against Tom. Not as if it would accomplished much, as he couldn’t run anyway, bound by the branches that were thick as his calves. But Tom’s grip was too tight on him, and he was too sturdy, and he remained standing before Harry, fingers dinging into his arm, hand cradling his neck.

Tom shook his head, making the curl fall in front of his face. “You can’t leave me, you can never leave me. Where ever you go I will follow, and where ever you hide I will find you. Even in the deepest depths of the ocean, or in death. You are mine and you belong to me, my love.” He spoke the words, his voice hardly above a whisper, as if he were making a vow to a lover.

A desperate sob broke from between Harry’s lips, and he shook with anger. Anger that he had ever seen Malfoy slip the journal into Ginny’s cauldron, anger that he had taken it and wrote within its pages. Anger that he fell for it, for every caring word, for every pretty lie and broken promise. Anger that he offered his soul away, that he had killed someone else in his own place.

And all over a book; a simple, blank diary.

It was something so simple. Something so so unassuming, so innocent seeming. It was just a book. What harm had ever come from a book?

MBTI types as Oscar Wilde quotes

I usually don’t like the posts that are like “MBTI types as Inspirational Quotes from Sappy Author So-and-So”, so here’s some Oscar Wilde cause he’s one sassy ENxP

ESTP: “I don’t want to go to heaven. None of my friends are there.”

ESFP: “I never travel without my diary. One should always have something sensational to read on the train.”

ISTP: “Experience is merely the name men give to their mistakes.”

ISFP: “If you are not too long, I will wait here for you all my life.”

ESTJ: “When I was young I thought that money was the most important thing in life; now that I’m older I know it is.”

ESFJ: “There is only one thing in the world worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.”

ISTJ: “True friends stab you in the front.”

ISFJ: “There is nothing in the world like the devotion of a married woman. It is a thing no married man knows anything about.”

ENTP: “I have nothing to declare except my genius.”

INTP: “I think God, in creating man, somewhat overestimated his own ability.”

ENTJ: “Everything in the world is about sex except sex. Sex is about power.”

INTJ: “I am so clever that sometimes I don’t understand a single word of what I’m saying.”

ENFP: “Life is far too important a thing ever to talk seriously about.”

INFP: “Always forgive your enemies–nothing annoys them so much.”

ENFJ: “The nicest thing in the world is to do a good deed anonymously–and then have someone find out.”

INFJ: “Whenever people agree with me I always feel I must be wrong.”

Diary Of A Saudi Girl: Karate Lover, Science Nerd ... Bride?
For two years, Majd Abdulghani kept a journal during a crossroads in her life: Should she get married or keep studying? Or can she do both?

“I like genetics and I like karate.”

She counts in Japanese recreationally. She takes karate classes secretly, comparing it to Fight Club. And her parents keep bugging her to get married, while bragging how good she is at memorizing the Quran.

This is the radio diary of Majd Abdulghani, a charming, normal young Saudi woman. In a time where entrenched interests seek to demonize any and all Muslims, it’s worth taking time to listen to this diary and remember how similar and human we all are.

Love, what is love? I don’t think you can really put it into words. Love is understanding someone, caring for him, sharing his joys and sorrows. This eventually includes physical love. You’ve shared something, given something away and received something in return, whether or not you’re married, whether or not you have a baby. Losing your virtue doesn’t matter, as long as you know that for as long as you live you’ll have someone at your side who understands you, and who doesn’t have to be shared with anyone else.
—  – The Diary of a Young Girl ( Anne Frank )

anonymous asked:

Were any of the older Romanov sisters being "courted" by any boys before they died?

Hello ! Olga being the eldest was more concerned by marriage matters than her sisters, one of her first suitor was the twenty-three-year-old Prince Christopher of Greece and Denmark he fell under the charm of Olga while visiting his sister Grand Duchess Maria Georgievna, His sister´s lady-in-waiting wrote :

He told me, that he greatly admired the Grand Duchess Olga…and asked me if I thought he had any chance. To me this was nothing very new, as I was accustomed to his short-lived enthusiasms, but this time I decided it would be a very good idea. After endless discussion, we decided to speak to his sister, the Grand Duchess George, and she suggested, ‘Why not try?’ So, having been given a stiff whisky and soda, he started for Livadia that afternoon. Whilst he was away, we three, the Grand Duchess, Zoia [the Baroness’s daughter] and I, walked about aimlessly. We worked ourselves into a perfect fever of excitement. When we heard the wheels of the car returning we nearly broke our necks trying to get to the door. I slid down the staircase in my haste but neither I nor anyone else took the least notice of that. He looked pale but dignified. We imagined he would have returned triumphant with a ring on his finger. Pushing him into the small writing room, we yelled at him, ‘Well?’ He slumped into a chair, and with a bewildered expression said, ‘I don’t know.’ ‘What do you mean, you fool, you don’t know?’ ‘Well, I don’t.’ Then, when we had ceased insulting him, he told us that the Emperor had been most kind but said firmly, ‘Olga is too young to think of such a thing as marriage yet.”

An union between Carol of Romania and Olga was considered more carefully, but it didn’t work out because clearly Olga wasn’t attracted to him, Carol also didn’t fell anything for her, at that time she said to Pierre Gilliard ‘ I don’t want to leave Russia. I’m a Russian and I mean to remain a Russian.’ However Carol was charmed by Maria, and asked her hand but Nicholas refused upon the fact she was too young. It was for the best Carol wasn’t a gift and they knew it, the girls purposely sunburned their faces during the voyage to Romania so that Carol finds them ugly.  Here is the opinion of his mother Queen Marie :

When the idea of a marriage between our son, Carol, and Olga, the eldest daughter of the Czar, was proposed, I was more against than for it, because I feared that uncanny illness—hæmophilia—which the women of certain families are supposed to give to their sons. I knew that poor Alix had given this illness to her heir, and I dared not face such a risk for our family. Gladly would I have welcomed one of Nicky’s daughters, had it not been for this, as, besides the ties of affection, it was a most flattering proposal, especially as it had been brought forward by the Russian side.”

Alexander of Serbia exchanged letters with Tatiana, it is said he was quite smitten by the second daughter of the Tsar.

The English side, Prince Arthur son of Prince Arthur Duke of Connaught, visited Russia in 1911, the British ambassador’s daughter noticed that his visit was ’ secretly to look at the Emperor’s daughter. ’ We know nothing about this meeting, or the impression for both of them.

Their cousin Louis Mountbatten fell in love with Maria and kept her photograph on his bedside all his life, who knows what would have happened if the Revolution didn’t broke out ? He was quite loved by his cousins, but I don’t think Maria had the same level of love than Dickie.

Of course Edward, the Prince of Wales who was 1 year older than Olga was mentioned but nothing serious came out.

The Russian side Prince Ioann Konstantinovich had a soft spot for Olga, he was very sad when he realised that he couldn’t marry her. But he had a happy marriage with Helena of Serbia, short but happy.

Grand Duke Dmitri Pavlovich was once considered as a prospective husband for Olga but his behaviour made him fall from the grace of Alexandra.

Alexandra was horrified when Maria Pavlovna proposed her second son, Boris, as a possible future husband for Olga, she wrote :

to give over a well used half worn out, blasé young man to a pure, fresh girl, 18 years his junior, & to live in a house in which many a woman has ‘shared his life’… An inexperienced girl would suffer terribly, to have her husband 4th, 5th hand or more.’

Boris of Bulgaria, Adalbert of Germany, Peter of Montenegro were also names which were circulated at that time.

• • •

We know that the three eldest developed strong attachment over few officers. Olga nursed an innocent passion for a junior officer on the Standard, Pavel Voronov, it seems he shared her feelings, but it was doomed from the beginning and he married Olga Kleinmikhel. Olga wrote in code in her diary : ‘T. was there with my S [Voronov]. In the end he is S. to me, for the bride [has] the rest of him, but for me [he is] S.’ Here is a young and older Olga with Voronov

Then she grew, as a nurse, an attachment to Dmitri ‘Mitya’ Shakh-Bagov, she often wrote about ‘Mitya’ in her diary and I. Belyaev wrote :

The Grand Duchess Olga Nikolaevna had her very own ‘protégé’ : the sick young ensign from Yerevan - Shakh-Bagov, very sweet and shy like a girl. It was obvious that he was utterly in love with his nurse. His cheeks burned with a bright flame whenever he looked at Olga Nikolaevna.’

Meanwhile Tatiana had fallen for Dmitri Malama a Kuban Cossack, Alexandra had a special affection for him and she wrote

My little Malama came for an hour yesterday evening…Looks flourishing more of a man now, an adorable boy still. I must say a perfect son in law he w(ou)ld have been – why are foreign P(rin)ces not as nice?”. Tatiana also had another suitor Boris Ravtopulo he was hooked by her but never had the courage to tell her his feelings. ‘

He fought for the White Army after the Revolution broke out and was killed in 1919. It seems that she had another love interest in Vladimir Kiknadze. Here she is with Malama :

As for Maria she felt affection for Nicholas Demenkov, she openly talked of her crush to her father, she’d even sign her letters ‘Mrs. Kolya Demenkov.’, Alexandra called him  ‘Marie’s fat fellow’.

At leas they lived the early stage of love. Nicholas and Alexandra wanted to take things slowly, World War I put a brake to any marriage prospects. Moreover they were so close that I think they cherished the fact that they could ‘keep’ their daughters with them. In my opinion they would have never push their daughters into a loveless marriage nor a dynastic marriage that could have been unhappy, maybe I’ve an utopian view on the subject but despite many people think Alexandra wasn’t a snob and cold hearted..

It is the year 2065, awards season is in full swing. A lifetime achievement statuette is being presented to renowned egalitarian and producer/director Ian Somerhalder. The presenter is his lifelong friend and renaissance woman, Katerina Graham.

Backstage, he bumps into an old friend who he has not seen since his halcyon days working on the Vampire Diaries: It is Nina Dobrev.

They smile at each other. So much time and life separates them now. “Selfie, for old times’ sake?” he offers.

Her eyes widen, the delicate wrinkles around them crinkling. “Are you sure it’s… safe?”

“It’s been fifty years. I’ve been married to Nikki for almost as long, and I see pictures of you and a different young man every week. We are respected artists, legends some would even say. Surely we are past all that.”

They take the selfie and he posts it on twitter, assured that the world is a gentler, more mature place now.

He is wrong.

Within seconds the tweets pour in. “NIAN LIVES OMG MY FEELS!!!” cries @delenasarmpit. “I KNEW IT, I KNEW THEYVE BEEN SECRETLY TOGETHER ALL THIS TIME” rants @damondieswithoutelena.

Ian immediately posts a picture of himself and Nikki on the red carpet, in an attempt to control the damage, but within 5 minutes there are a thousand angry replies, most of them calling his wife of fifty years a stupid bitch.

One of them is from Matt Davis, who will swear upon all that is holy to other people that he was being ironic and you are just too crazy to appreciate it.

Ian realizes his mistake, but it’s too late. The nightmare is reborn.

Mona’s Book

Before Mona was “fake murdered,” she was laying in her bed reading a book called Le Grand Meaulnes, written by French author Alain-Fournier. The writers often give us clues about the story-line through props, so I decided to do some research on this book and it was VERY interesting. 

I decided to do an in-depth summary and analysis of the book and its connections/parallels to Pretty Little Liars. 

François Seurel is the narrator of the book. His father is the director of a school in a small village in France, where Francois is studying to become a TEACHER. 

Below is a photo of the schoolhouse from the book…

Very similar to Radley Sanitarium….

A mysterious boy joins Francois’ class, named Augustin Meaulnes. One night, Meaulness went to pick up Fracois’ grandparents in a carraige. The next day the carriage returns but Meaulnes is nowhere to be found.

Meaulnes returns 3 days later wearing a marquis under his school uniform and acting strange. 

Meaulnes tells Francois what happened:
As he left home to pick up Francois’s grandparents he got lost and his HORSE ran away. He hurt his knee and decided to rest for the night in an abandoned sheep pen. In the morning he began walking again until he came to a mysterious estate where a magical costume party was being prepared. HE SEES WOMEN IN OLD FASHIONED CLOTHES. 

Two men invite him to join the MASQUERADE BALL. Meaulnes disguised himself as a marquis.

Meaulness finds out that the party is being held for the son of the manor, Frantz de Galais, and his fiancé Valentine.

But Frantz arrives alone, and announces that Valentine no longer wants to marry him. He is heartbroken. He leaves the estate in despair with a note saying he is going to kill himself. 

Meaulnes discovers a room where a young woman is PLAYING THE PIANO. She is Frantz’s sister, Yvonne. 

Early the next morning he follows Yvonne ON TO A BOAT and they talk for the first time. He falls madly in love with her. Yvonne tells him not to follow her.

As Meaulnes gets into a carriage to go back home, he hears a gunshot and sees someone carrying a body. 

Francois and Meaulnes decide to draw a map to try to find the mysterious estate. 

One night they hear strange noises outside and go to investigate. They find a gypsy boy with a BANDAGE AROUND HIS HEAD and steals their map.

The following day the gypsy boy joins their class as a student and quickly becomes best friends with Francois and Meaulnes. He gives the stolen map back to Meaulnes with the missing parts now filled in. The three swear their allegiance to each other and the gypsy tells Meaulnes that Yvonne is in PARIS.  


At the end of the performance, the young gypsy pulls away his bandages revealing his identity as Frantz de Galais, Yvonne’s brother.

Ali’s “brother” Charles…….

A number of robberies have occurred throughout the village and the police arrive the next morning to arrest Frantz and his friend Ganache, but they leave just before the police arrive and Meaulnes loses the only hope he has of finding the mysterious castle where the party was held.

Meaulnes goes to Paris to try to find Yvonne but sends Francois a letter saying Yvonne is already married.
A year and a half later, Meaulnes has still not returned, but Francois happens to find the address of the mysterious property. He contacts his uncle who lives in the village and finds out that Yvonne was never married. François meets Yvonne and learns that she has been in love with Meaulnes all these years. 

Francois’ aunt tells him a strange story. One night last winter, as she was coming back from a party, she came upon a young woman in distress. She helped her and brought her to her home. The woman then left for Paris. 

Francois’ uncle decides to throw a party and invites Meaulnes, Yvonne and François. At the party, Meaulnes finally sees Yvonne again. Although he is happy to see her, he realizes that nothing will be the same as it was before. 

He questions Yvonne at length and learns that not only has the old manor been demolished (RADLEY WAS CHANGED INTO A HOTEL), but that in order to pay Franz’s debts, the family had to sell the boats and horses which Meaulnes remembered from the party. 

Meaulnes falls into a destructive NOSTALGIA.

That night, through his tears he asks Yvonne to marry him.

Meaulnes and Yvonne get engaged and are married. On the day of the wedding they hear Frantz wailing in despair because he still has not found his fiancé Valentine. He reminds Meaulnes of their childhood friendship pledge to always help one another.  Despite his love for his new bride, Yvonne, Meaulnes decides to leave with Frantz the next day in order to help him find Valentine. Yvonne remains home alone and François becomes her confidant and tries to comfort her.

The following year, Yvonne gives birth to a baby girl. She becomes sick, however, and dies of a cerebral embolism without ever having seen Meaulnes again. François moves into the estate and tries to figure out why Meaulnes really left.
A few months later, Francois finds Meaulnes’ diary, and discovers what happened to Meaulnes when he went to Paris to search for Yvonne.

While searching for Yvonne, Meaulnes met a young woman and seduced her. 

He later discovers that the woman is Valentine, Frantz’s fiancée. He felt horrible about his betrayal to Frantz and drove Valentine away rudely. 

Later, feeling guilty about his treatment of her, he tried to find Valentine, but she was already gone.

In order to make amends to Frantz and Valentine, Meaulnes leaves Yvonne the day after his marriage to help Frantz find Valentine. 

They return one year later, with Frantz and Valentine married. 

Meaulnes takes his daughter and disappears forever, leaving François alone. The book ends with François musing “And I imagine him, in the night, wrapping his daughter in his coat, ready to take her on new adventures”.

As you can see there are COUNTLESS parallels to PLL. Very interesting…

Thanks for reading. Hope you all enjoyed!


The First Gentlewoman of Her Time

Theodosia Bartow Burr was born on June 21, 1783. Her parents, Aaron Burr and Theodosia Bartow Prevost Burr, met in 1778 at the Hermitage, the Prevost family seat in Paramus, New Jersey. They were married in 1782 and had four children, of which only Theodosia survived to adulthood. She was given a rigorous education, befitting her parents’ belief that women and men had equal intellectual capabilities. By the time Theodosia was ten, she could read and write French, Greek, and Latin; she studied classics, mathematics, and geography, while also receiving instruction in ballet and skating. When Theodosia Prevost Burr died in 1794, her young daughter became the mistress of Richmond Hill, her father’s estate, hosting such dignitaries as George Washington, Alexander Hamilton, Andrew Jackson, and Joseph Brant.

In 1801, Theodosia married Joseph Alston, a wealthy South Carolina planter. They had one son, Aaron Burr Alston. The Alston family remained loyal to the elder Aaron Burr throughout the turbulence of his political career, and stayed with him in Richmond, Virginia during his 1807 trial for treason. Theodosia’s health worsened during the years of Burr’s self-imposed European exile, during which he kept a diary for his beloved daughter; she had long suffered from many of the same ailments as her mother. After Burr’s return to America and the death of her son in 1812, Theodosia made plans to travel to New York aboard the Patriot to visit her father. The ship was lost off the North Carolina coast in a violent storm. To her devastated father, this was the event that “separated him from the human race.”

anonymous asked:

Hi Sam! Your how to be an adult posts I always find comforting! How do you deal with feeling like you haven't achieved enough and are behind in your career, and life in general? I just turned 28 and feel like I could use some sage advice from the resident Tumblr adult XD. Thanks if you decide to answer!

Okay, Anon, you will not believe me when I say this and I swear to god I’m not trying to condescend here but if I don’t say this they take away my Thirty Something Card:

a) Twenty eight is, believe it or not, still A BABY. You are so young.  

This might be slightly more believable and way less condescending:

b) Feeling as though you haven’t achieved enough and are behind in your career and life in general is what your twenties are for

I felt this way from the age of 24 to the age of 32 or so. I was envious of people younger than me who were my supervisors or who had achieved amazing things or were married or were, for fuck’s sake, financially solvent. For a while I kept a diary of who I envied and why because I literally could not deal with FEELING THIS FEELING ALL THE TIME and if I wrote it down it went away for a while and I wasn’t a shitty human being to those people, who didn’t deserve my attitude just for being cooler than me.

So, c) If you need to, keep a Hater Diary so that you do not actually become a Hater Person.

But the longer you live I think the more you realize that we are each on our own individual journeys, and everyone’s is different, and:

d) While benchmarks in business or industry or technology are good things, benchmarking your actual life is utterly pointless

I spent so much of my twenties trying to seem like I was a normal well-adjusted person with friends and (mainstream) hobbies and good job prospects and then one day I realized that I had no idea who I was pretending all of these things for. Like. Who was this person I was trying to present myself to, and why did I care what they thought if they wouldn’t like the me under my skin?

We spend essentially the first two decades of our life being graded on things in school, and when we get out we tend to think we’re still being graded. But unless you believe in some kind of Almighty Schoolmaster who won’t let you into the good bits of the afterlife if you don’t have babies when all your friends are having babies or make middle management by thirty-five, literally nobody is going to mark you down or punish you for not meeting an imaginary industry standard for existing. (Nobody who matters, anyway. There are smug shits in this world who will look down on you, but you could be a billionaire and you’d still run into smug shits who’d look down on you, so that’s a universal experience that should not influence how you live your life.) 

The major benefit of this revelation is that it makes you way more compassionate and less judgey of others, too, and you get to throw out the Hater Diary. 

So I downshifted and stopped spending my time building a facade of Sam The Ordinary Person Who Is Definitely Not A Weirdo and began spending that time and energy learning how to live the life I had, rather than act out a life I didn’t even want. I stopped pretending I didn’t have weird, gross health issues and got my health shit together. I stopped pretending I was going to do the job I trained for in college, and instead I started working towards a job I wanted while embracing the idea that college was an education in how to live life, not in how to enter a vocation. I stopped reading books everyone was reading and started reading books I wanted to read. 

Am I happier? Maybe. I think so. Am I more together, and do I come off as a way cooler and more interesting person than I used to? Absolutely. Do I still have issues? Of course, but at least now they’re my issues, not the issues of someone I’m trying to be.

Being Yourself is not the be-all and end-all, and if done incorrectly can lead to Being A Selfish Narcissist. But if you’re feeling like you haven’t achieved enough, take a deep breath and ask yourself who’s telling you what “enough” is, and if you give a flying fuck what they think. Generally the answer to the first part is either “an imaginary person” or “someone I don’t know or care about” and the answer to the second part is “no”. 

Good luck. It’s not an easy row to hoe, existence. Good news is, by 35 you’ll probably have all this way more figured out and understand just how little is really at stake in the Being A Grownup LARP. 

Some Reasons I Ship Jonsa

16) They are cousins. 

I have not read the books but what I have seen on tumblr about the books Jon & Sansa didn’t really have a relationship and she was awful to him lol. Yeah, maybe she talked to him once or twice when she had to, like when a lady tells you her name you say her name is pretty. Or to me it seems Jon had listened to her talk when he was around her talking to other people it seems cause she wouldn’t interact with him a lot cause of what her mother thought of him? I might be wrong. Anyway, they are cousins, actually first cousins. 

Now, its still incest but Nedd Stark parents were cousins when they married and I don’t know beyond Stark history but cousins marrying isn’t a taboo thing in this world. Like sisters and brothers being romantic and even marrying *cough cough* Lannister & Targaryen. I mean if they are cousins I don’t get huge deal. 

Now, if they had Jon/Arya relationship I could kind of see I guess but their are Jon/Arya shippers out there that feel and think Jon & Arya are endgame which can be true. I can see Jon ending up with Sansa or Arya tbh…

17) Ironic?

Sansa wants to marry a prince that is not only is really a psychopath but a bastard, and ignores a bastard and reunites and is developing a relationship with him who is really a prince (idk Lyanna & Rhaegar married & someone correct me but I think Jon is a prince lol).

Originally posted by casydean23

18) Nedd Stark’s Wanted Match For Sansa

Nedd had bad feeling about Joffrey. He saw through the kid. Sansa was thirteen though and did not listen. The point is Nedd Stark wanted Sansa to be with a man who was brave, gentle, & strong and so far only guy in Sansa’s life that matches that is Jon. The only other guy is Tyrion but idk if Sansa & Tyrion will reunite and happen and I feel Sansa didn’t appreciate Tyrion that much imo…but I am Dany & Tyrion shipper lol.

19) Tully & Stark 

Sansa is a Stark but I feel she is just like Cat. She has that Tully. Jon is a Stark technically and acts like Nedd and prob little Rhaegar but how he was raised he acts more like Nedd (which why I think maybe being Rhaegar son & not Nedd’s son will hit him hard.) 

Jonsa just has that Tully/Stark vibe that fits like the last puzzle piece in a puzzle like how Nedd & Cat worked.

20) Queen & King of North

Now, Jon & Sansa don’t have to even marry. I think it would be cool if they are just like hey we King & Queen of North deal with it lol. 

21) Creepo Finger

I mean first, he was always trying get middle of Cat & Nedd & now he gonna try get in middle of Sansa & Jon. Its just dude the Tully women are always going to pick the Stark just I just can’t with this pedophile creep…but its just coincidence he gonna try do same thing he did in his generation???

22) Jon Snow Stark-Targaryen?

If Sansa still does have resentment towards Jon cause he was a bastard then him actually being a Stark/Targaryen will release some tension. Her father was just not breaking his promise for his sis. He didn’t betray her mom in any way. Plus, she might look at Jon in another light. 

23) Jon see’s only Sansa

I can list all the reasons I loathe P*tyr & Sansa pair but one I will list is that LF does not see Sansa. He doesn’t see Sansa and I kind of don’t get why people don’t get that. LF see’s a daughter him & Cat never had that he tries to get with every chance he has.

Originally posted by misslaineybug

Also teenage fantasy & a young Cat. Like I bet if we saw through LF eyes we would see a young Cat and not even Sansa. 

The point is LF doesn’t see Sansa, he see’s Cat and that is fucked up. If she looked more like Nedd and didn’t look like Cat or wasn’t Cat daughter he would have treated her worst. Sansa deserves a person who see’s just her. Not her mom that they wished they got with and was obsessed with.

Jon see’s Sansa not Cat. Now a lot of anti Jon & Sansa shippers say he would be repulsed by Sansa cause she does look like her mother like how Jon looks like Nedd…but I think some forget Jon isn’t that type of person. He is not the type to be repulsed or mean to Sansa cause of what Cat did to Jon. Jon KNOWS HOW THAT FEELS! TO BE TREATED DIFFERNTLY CAUSE OF SOMEONE ELSE’S ACTIONS!! SO JON DOING THAT TO SANSA FOR ME WOULD BE OUT OF CHARACTER.

Jon looks at Sansa he see’s Sansa and who she is and still learning who she really is has a person.

Sansa looks at Jon and see’s Jon and who he is and still learning who he really is has a person.

Creepofinger see’s Sansa & even Jon & see’s young Cat & Nedd back from the dead & has to find ways to bring the apart. 0_0 

Originally posted by hodorhodorhodooor

24) Jon Marrying Sansa’s in Stark History??

Lord Jonnel Stark married Lady Sansa Stark 

Like is this thing? Like on Vampire Diaries Elena & Stefan  descendants have always fallen in love with each other or married in history??

Is it like that?

George what you doing???

Originally posted by yourreactiongifs