fuckin-way

anonymous asked:

Which Austen book/movie do you think had the most sexual tension?

Persuasion, hands down.

Think about it: every other novel depends wholly upon the uncertainty of the heroine being unaware of the hero’s romantic interest for some portion of the novel, with misunderstandings and difficulties largely brought on by the structure of Proper Courtship where it was generally considered inappropriate for either party to display too much obvious inclination until a proposal was actually made. (Marianne’s quick and clear affection for Willoughby makes a lot of people uncomfortable. Fanny Price is commended for her placid response to Henry Crawford’s flirtations. Elizabeth Bennet doesn’t even begin to remotely consider Darcy as a marital prospect until after he’s proposed and been rejected with some of the sickest burns ever committed to the page.)

But Persuasion. Ah, Persuasion. Anne has already previously accepted and then rejected Wentworth before the novel even starts. The whole book already exists at the level of tension we see reached when Lizzy runs into Darcy unexpectedly on her visit to Pemberley. That’s the whole book.

And it gets better.

Anne didn’t reject Wentworth because she couldn’t fuckin’ stand him, the way Elizabeth chewed off Darcy’s ear for being a dillhole to Jane and (she thinks) to Wickham. Anne loved Wentworth, and he loved her. They were devoted to each other. It’s the fact that she broke off the engagement despite this that rankles, for both of them. The attraction was there. It was acknowledged. It was allowed to burn wild and bright for that brief, delicious time before Lady Russell’s doubts and concerns seized hold of Anne and persuaded her to wreck his happiness, and her own. No, they were both fully aware of how much they wanted each other, and they were like “yeah, let’s get married, it’ll be great, I love you so much, oh God you’re so attractive, you’re amazing, I want to spend the rest of my life with you, you’re everything I could ever want.”

It was real and undeniable. They cannot unsay any of it. And then it was over.

[SAD TROMBONE]

And that’s just the backstory.

So despite Wentworth being hella difficult for Anne to read, and her own shattered expectations and self-esteem leading her to believe that of course he’s over her and totally into Louisa Musgrove, why wouldn’t he be, she’s young and cute and so many things Anne is not…we still get to watch Anne burn for this man after eight years apart and know that that’s a fire that’s never going to go out for the rest of her life, if time and distance and hopelessness and even the attentions of other charming young men in Captain Benwick and Mr. Elliott haven’t managed to put out those flames.

And on the re-read we can pick up on every look and cue from Wentworth which we then know to be signs of the fact that he is as helplessly lost to his desire for this person as he was nearly a decade earlier. He wants to believe otherwise and tries to act as if it is–and in a classic case of over-compensation gives rise to hopes and expectations from Louisa Musgrove which then very nearly lock him into an attachment which would surely divide him from Anne forever. And even when he feels himself safe from that, he confronts the possibility of Anne being taken by a rival in Mr. Elliott, and can only watch, rather than give a clear sign of his intent. After all the time that has passed, he is now in the position Anne was in at the beginning of the book, and must painfully struggle to weigh his own doubts against his desires. The no-liking-each-other-too-much-until-you-pop-the-question courtship rules still apply, and an open and happy flirtation at this point is not in their natures as individuals–they’re older than most other heroes and all other heroines. They know the risks. They’ve seen happiness slip away, before, and wonder if it is lost forever. Their emotional stakes are higher. He cannot bear to ask again, face to face.

The misery. The agony. The helpless and resentful eyefucking. That LETTER.

I͚̞̖ ̗̮͈̰̬͇͙c̺̗̮a̗̗̤̜ṉ̯ ̦͔̞̫̟l̯͎͇i̮̱͓̹̭̝͍̥s͓̣̱͎͉̙̻̱̩t͖̠e̼͍̻̣̼n̪̜̮̟̖ ̼̣̼̱̩n̬̳o̩̱̪̟͚̟̲ ̪̺̺l̗̦o͉̝̺̳̤̺̬̻ͅn̗̤̦̥̥͔g̗̰e̜r͎̙̲͚̥̫͇̰ ̜̻͎͈i̘̻̲̫͖̘̫n̩̳̻̮̳̪ ̖̳̳̬̭s̩i̹̩̗̻̘l̹͚e͈̮͖͚͈̫n͔̣̰̯̝̠̤̝c͚͍̙͈̱͉̗͇e̤̭̯̳̹̳.̘̖̫̩̭̻̤͖̱ ̳̞I͓̞̣ ̦̗̼͙͙͎̗͚m͚͙͖̜̜u͈̱̦̩s͓̰͚͎t̼͕̬͈̗̫ ̝͉͕̯̣͈ͅs͖̼͓̤͎͚̮p̲͇̮͓̩e͍̦̹͉͕̠͎̠a̻͎̝̭̜k͉̫̭̣ ̫̣̲̜͙͉̳t̺͚͔̜̗o̫͓̩̝ ̯̻̙̱y͕̳̘̺͎̞o͍̮u̲̭̙̦ ̺̦͎̬̦̣̤

b̩̹͖y̦̝͙̣̮̦̫ ̼̪s̜̜̼͓̝̣͉̺ṵ̼̦̪c͕̝̝h̝̞͈̻̺̩̼̬̩ ͕̺̟͓ͅm͖͈̣̰͍̫̦e̫͕͇̗̳̩̣̠a̬͕̭͕ͅn̖ͅs̲͕͉̙̥͉̠͙ͅ ̤̳̞̖̼̥̰a̗̗̹̰̳̟̙s̭̭͍̦͎͙ͅ ͇̭̰a̱̩͈r͍̦̟̣͚͙̱e̠̟̬̮ ̘w͔̩͈̩̠̮̭̘i̳̻̯͙̦̼t͇̖̹̙̩h͎̣͎̖̩̬̥̪̦i̙n͚̫͈̗̘ ̱̺m̯̜̬͈y̹̟̝̱̼̝̰̘ ̖̞̪̪̦̭r̮̝̙̻̣̯e̳̮̦͚̞̣a̱̞c̠̞̝͎̥̯͚͍ḥ͎̟̯.͎̪̬̟̻̥͉̦͙
̭̭͕̲̫̖̜
͙̰̬͓̪̹͈ͅY̰̯̟̜͎̼̳͖̱o̘̜̞̣̭̥u̩͎̰̣̤̻͚͙ ̫̲̻̲̜͈p̱̹̯i͎e͈̣̩̠̲̖r̳͉̺c̩͔͉̩̤̥͉̲e͎̗ ̞̠̮̲̝̠̤̜m̯̙̹̖̗̺y̤̺͙̼̮ ̮s͇͔͔̦̮̤o̯͖̥̭͓͍̤ͅu͔̥̩̯̻̖̙̲l̟͎.̤͕ ̰̼̘I̭̝̫ ͚̠̝̜a̮̮̘m̝̖͖̫͙͖̟ ͔̳̯̟̺h̗͖̩̬̟̱͓a̺̳͔̲͈l̙̺̙͓̞f͍̠ ̠̞̘̮̩a̲̝̬̟g̪͖̲͙o̩͚n̩̞̹y̗̖͔̪̮͚̹̻,̖̩̬̗̣͇̺̹ ̥̙͇̜͓̙̠̰͎h͕̮̪͕ạ͙̰̠͓l͚͙͚̤͇̮f͉̰̝͈̳͍̖ ̭̘ḥ̞o̗̲͎̩̜̙p̭e͖̮̼̱ͅ.̻̳ ̙̣͍͍̦̩̼͓̯

T̻̣̖̼͍͉̝e̳̮̯̘̜͖l̪̰l͕͕ ̼͈͉̻̙̗̰̬m̟̬̙̫ͅḙ̬̰̲̦̮̜ ̣̲̘n̺̰̦̟͍͔̫o͙̬͓̗̫̻̻̱t̻̘̰̜̖̦̜͈ ͖͇̜͚̣͍t̳̞̼h̗̹͓̮̖̲̟͕a̫̞̖̣̳̩ͅt͈͚̩ ̝̤̗̲̭̫̭I̪͙͙ͅ ̝̜̭͚̙̞a͉̹͖̫͔̪̮m̯̘͇̪ͅ ̳͍̩t̠͈̻͚̩͇͚o̩̭o̘̦̝̙ ̰̬̠͓̠͚̙̹̹l͚͕͍a̰͎t̖̭̥ẹ͈̝,̩̲͓̖̘͇͎ ̻̲̬̲ț͔͎̹̪͍h̘͔̙̝a͇t̫͎͙͖ ̬̩͇̫̮s͖͉̘̙u͔̹͚c͕̣̝͙͍h͖̤̲̱̟ͅ ̖̺͔̠̰̬p͈̤͔̖̯ṛe͚͙̯̖c̝͔͙͉i̻o̖͙̠u̜̬̦̹̻̫ͅș̝̪̹̝̦̩̼ͅ ̦̥͉̞͉͚̗f͇̪e̝̰̠̝ẹ̹͔͉̟̤l̻͖͔̜͇̝ͅi̟̘͎̦͈̞̱n̲̮̤̤͉͈̬g̱͓͖͕̣̯͚͙s̱ ̩̯̲̪͕̩a̪̠͓͈̩ͅr͓͚e͍͇͖ ̹g̳̖͎͙͉͇͎̯o͓n̘̜͈̫e̲̥̥̞͖̩ͅ ̭̺f͓̺̮͈͚̼̲o̼̝r͖̰̩̞̺̼̮̰̪ ̗̮e̼̬̹̳͕̼̤v̲̝e͙̤͎ṟ̙̘̱.͕̞̥͙̝
̘̭̪͙̙̥̲̗
̰̺̮̗̳̭̹I̺̼͎͕ ̳̖̘͇͚̦̳͉o̞̥̥̞̘̗̗f̜̱̞͔͕̹͙f̟̹̖̺e̲̬͉̥r̲͚̣̘̪͓̫̳̹ ̙͚͍̘͍̘̦m̪̫͔̼̙͔̯͕y͎̖̯͇s̞e̺̣͓̻̗͎̹͇̻l̙̣̮͈f͖̩̫̱̤͙̘ ̝̩̥͖̞̜͉̻͎t͇̳͈̳o̙̜̳͎̣ ͕̤̣y̱̞̦͈̳̥o͚u̦̭̥͔ ͈̹̗̮a̠̺͓͕͖g̤͇̟͍a͚̱͉̯̬͍̘i͚̣̣̻̥n̞͍̜̗̝͓ ̤̠̹̪̳͉̪͓w̼̭̠̭̝i͖̭t͎͕̮̭ẖ̟̱ ͉̩a̗͇̪ͅ ̩̥̺̱̱̦h̺̝͕͓̠e͈̜̮̪a͚̦̦͇͔̗͙̝͈r͖͔̜̠̰̥t̬̥̻̭͕̬ ̦͇̠͎̱͓͎e̥̙̠̥̼̩͎̘͍v̩͙e͎̭̺̫̥n͍͚̙̺̼ ̘̰̱m̗̲̯̞͇o̝͈͓̰͇r̹̤̞̙͕e͙͍̦̦̦ͅ ̱͔͇̩͓y̻̖͚̱̼ͅo̜̯̗u̦̲̦͎̙̬̭r̼̲̗̟̯̟̱͓ ̗͖o̜͍̤̩͓̲̬ͅw͈̳͎̩̪̤͓͍͎n͖͍͈͔̪͖͔ ͇̳͔̫̮͙̭͕

t̤͕h̲̲̩̱a̪͚͚̞͈͈͉ͅṇ̝̪̞̰̦͎ ͍̺̼̳̦̜w̝̹̖h͉̥̟̝e̮̞͇͕̩͉̰̮n̘͓̜͙ ̙ͅy͕̗͇͎͙͉̹̻o̖͈͈ͅu̺̱͈ ̮̥͍͍͓a̝̮̱l̥̩̤̹m͖̻o̻͚̯s͚͎̳̻͙t̟̹ ̱̹̤̝̞ͅb̰͍̺̜ͅr̤̙͍̹̯͎̻o̥͚͇̻k̹e̟͍̪͎͖ ̱̝̭̥̠i̠̝̬̙̲̤t͇͚̺̯̣̮̜͚ͅ,̙̣̭͓̭̮ͅ ̗̰̞̳͕͔e̦̱̹i̺̙̰͕̲͓̜ͅg̖̯͈͇͔̣h̻̻̺̼͉͍͇̞t̠̝̦̮̟͈ ̤̩̦̻̥y͕̼e̺͉͖a̭r͎̜̻̯͖s̺ ̰͔a͚̗̰̞̺̣n͕̳̜̲̰̱̮ͅd̮ ̲̳͉̙̲̙a͖̞͕͍̗ ̝̲͖̖h͈͈̮͉̯̱̪a̺̖̼̘̯̳͕̼̩ḻ͚̩̰̪̻̞͙f̺̫̻̬͓̩͇̜ ̖̮a͎̯̣͍̻̲̺g̞͖̹̭̻͓̻̥ͅo̺̲̯͔̪̹͖̭.̭͓̮̖
̞̞̜̩̮̖
͚͍̮̟D̹̺̺͚͎͈a̱̫͕͕̩̞r̭̟̖̤͍̘e̫̞̞͉̖̮̳̣ ̼̱̜ͅn͙o͇̮̰̫̠̺t͕̱̜͎ ̟͕̩̼̙s̹a͖͉y͓̣ ͕̩̠̗t̟͈͍͚h͕͕͖̣̟a̤̹̯̗̪͕t̮̳͓ ͎̳̰̳̙̹͙ṃ̟͕̟ͅa̪̩n̥̲͇̺̞̖̰̫ ̫̖̯̜̼͖͖̼f̟̮̪̖̞o̯͉̝͚r̺̭̞͕g͕̹̤̖̣̤e͖̦̜̘t̺̮s̳̯̳̻̘̟ͅ ̻̜̻̱͉s͍͙̟͇̜̦̬͍o̬̪͔̟o̖̠̺͙̺̯̘͙n̼̫̥̮̬̜̞͖e̤̹͇͇̼r̬̻̰̻̻̹ͅͅ ͇̠ṭ̪̰͈̪̥͙̫h̫͕̙̞̟͍͖̺a̬̭̼̲n̹͙̮̹͚̘̞ ̜̺̤̪w͇̦͖̦͕ͅo̫̪̦͎̜̭m̜͕̹a͉͚̮̫n̪̥̣͖,̠̣ͅ ̺̺̪̠̮̘̮ͅͅ

t̫̳͎͙͎̩̹͕h̙̬̦̟̣̝̜̹a̟̠̖͍̜t̘̣͉͍̤̦̮ ͔̲̹̤̤̝̮͔̠h͖̲̲̣i̜̲͈ͅs̝̠̪̭̝̭̳ ̪̤͓̗̣̩̺l͔̺̱̼͇͕̩o͖̠͖͖v͓̫̤̲̬̳̳͔e̟̮͖̩̲̯̻ ̹͕h̼͚̠̘̺̖a̯̰s͍̹̠͔̠ͅ ̟͈̞̩̳͉̮ͅa͔̺̹̟̼̲̝̦n̳̖͕ ̣̗͍͎͇e͓͉̦̺ͅa͔̰r̠̺͖̝̗̼̼̘l̻̘͕̤̯̩̟̙i͔͚͙̠͓̥ẹ̯͙̼͙ͅr̲͈͉ ̣ḏ̲̯̟̪͇e̳͓̫̲̻͚a̯t̲̭̬̻̯̥̼̭h̠̘.͍̰ ͚͍

Ị̱̻ ̙̭͇̗̟̠͓̠h̲̳͎a͍̠̤̗̠̰̝v̙̘̖̼͖e̞̻̟̹̣̣̭ ̠̱͍̯͈l̹͇̗̣̙͈͈̩̰o͎̭̝v͈͕e̠̳̗͓͍̺ḓ͍͔̯̖̹̼ ̹̼̳͙̗̘̬n̳͕̰̻̲̰̖͉o̬͉n͚̭ͅe͚̮̯ ̺̺b̥̬̩̼̣͈̻̺͖u̫͖͖̦̪̜̠̱t̲̤͓̩ͅ ̙̮̣̜y͚͎̘̭̤̼̞̞o͔̩̭u̖̩͍̫̤͖.̠̬̞̰͍

Originally posted by kickinyoass

I'm Not Okay (Vocals + Bass)
My Chemical Romance
I'm Not Okay (Vocals + Bass)

IT IS BACK!

I’m Not Okay (Vocals + Bass), 
Originally performed by My Chemical Romance.

i know ive posted two im not okay edits this week shush that’s all i have ok :)

10

              ⭐ 💜 ⭐ 💜 ⭐  🅒🅞🅢🅜🅘🅒 🅓🅡🅔🅢🅢  ⭐ 💜 ⭐ 💜 ⭐

Back in the fall I got super inspired by this outfit from @cosmashanti​ (the outfit link goes to a reblog on my main blog because the original post has been deleted) and decided I needed to recreate it for my mayor! And then when I was done I realized it was October and my mayor would freeze in the short sleeves… so I made a long-sleeved version to match!

Mairin likes to wear this dress with the star hairpin, black tights, yellow buckled shoes, and heart i. balloon - but it goes well with a pretty wide variety of items~

If there’s a wide enough demand for it, I might try to make a matching umbrella pattern… (or I might just make one either way because I want it) And if anyone wants a darker skintone edit just let me know & I’ll hook you up!

Sometimes John and Sherlock accidentally talk all night.

Like maybe the intention to go to sleep at a normal time was there, but then they get distracted.

11 PM: They finish the movie and it just naturally feels like time for bed. Teeth are cleaned, doors are locked, and they settle in between the sheets, and damn is the bed comfortable compared to the haphazard dog pile of limbs they had gotten into on the sofa.

“What did you think of the film?”

“Nice; very enjoyable.”

“Did I tell you it was my favorite when I was a kid?”

“No. Really?”

“Yeah. Would watch it on repeat.”

“Interesting. But it’s no longer your favorite?”

“Right. I dunno- I still love it, but not in the same way.”

“I understand. Your favorite now is that one Bond, um…Die Another Day?”

“Yeah.” John gives Sherlock a small, soft smile. He looks almost bewitched.

“What’s that look for?”

“It’s for you. ”

“Yes, but why?”

“Because it’s really nice to have someone remember things like that about me.”

1 AM: The discussion has shifted to favorites, and why they’re favorites.

“So you would rather listen to that same Rolling Stones album again and again for eternity than ever even trying something like Debussey?”

“Correct.”

“Alright, well, now I know.”

“You know what?”

“That we’re breaking up.”

They laugh.

2 AM: …and now they’re just naming things they like.

John: “Long car journeys”

Sherlock: “The smell of coffee.”

“You hate coffee.”

“I hate the taste of coffee.”

“You are a complex being.”

“Thank you.”

They laugh some more.

John: “Rainy mornings that last all day.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t know that.”

“They’re lovely.”

“Why’s that?”

Sherlock fidgets with his lips, trying to figure out how to phrase his answer.

“Because you always wake me very…pleasantly… and often you continue waking me pleasantly for most of the morning…afternoon…even into the evening sometimes.”

“Do I? When it’s raining?”

“Yes. Not every time, but under a certain set of conditions I can, for the most part, look at the forecast for the morning the night before and know in advance whether or not I’ll be getting anything done the next day.”

John looks back at him, a concoction of surprise, then near embarrassment, then a sly smile.

“Interesting, see, I find that I get one thing in particular done consistently on those days.”

Sherlock snorts.

4 AM: The topic has shifted between worst hangover stories and crazy uni memories to some more difficult things, like John’s time in the service, and Sherlock’s addiction.

“We’ve sort of been dealt a few tough hands eh?”

“Truly.”

“Makes me want to take you away somewhere and just be relaxed for a bit.”

“I would agree to that in an instant.”

“Yeah? Let’s do that, then.”

“Fantastic idea!”

“I do get them on occasion.”

More laughter.

5 AM:

John is trying to work in to the concersation something he’s been wanting Sherlock to know for a long time. It’s difficult, though- he’s never really said anything like this- anything so personal.

“It says a lot about you, I think, that I can do things like this- stay awake all night, not having to be overwhelmed or rampant. You balance me, John.”

“Yeah..yeah I- I know what you mean. You also- I mean, you sort of…I don’t dread…my life to come…anymore. I used to think of all the days and years I had left to endure, wonder how I would fill them, hoping I could find something that wouldn’t feel so miserable, something to settle for, but you- fuck, Sherlock, I think back to that now and it feels like a horrible nightmare. I’m…more than just glad, to have found you. You- damn, this is hard, I-”

Sherlock ties his fingers with John’s and moves even closer.

"Take your time. No rush. No pressure. Anything you want to tell me, you can. You’re safe here.”

"I suppose…You umm…you made me rethink- my plans, for me, yes. But not only that, you also showed me a way of living so different from what I had known, so much better and full of richness, I look back at those days where I no longer wanted to be alive and think -it’s probably because I wasn’t alive. I had every responsibility and felt every drawback of life but was denied any of the good stuff. You showed me so much more than I ever knew was out there- you sort of saved my life by…showing me how to live it? That’s so cheesy, I-”

And now Sherlock is crying. So John starts crying.

6 AM: they’ve got themselves together by now and moved on to something a little lighter.

"Right…so, you mean to tell me that James Moriarty, criminal mastermind, scary man with an affinity for the latest in explosive fashion, still sleeps with a teddy bear?”

"Precisely.”

"How did you figure that one out?”

"It took a few-visits- to piece it together, mostly because I was in disbelief myself, but he shows signs of a stiff neck as if he sleeps in an extremely bent position with one arm hooked partially under himself, likely around a small item. Persistence of this soreness shows that he didn’t just sleep wrong once, he makes a habit of this position. But what really sealed the realization was the right thumbnail. Much shorter than all the others, wrinkled texture, dry skin around the edges where the rest of his finers are immaculately manicured. Exposed to moisture for long periods of time.”

"No fuckin way!”

"Oh yes. He sucks his thumb. What a terrifying creature.”

Hysterical laughter.

"I’m always curious what you could tell about me right away and what took you a bit longer.”

That’s a dangerous path John- not everyone wants to know what others can tell about them.”

"Yeah but I’m just tired enough to ask anyway.”

"Well, all the things I pointed out at Bart’s…then more and more about your childhood based on your dating habits…around a month after we moved in I had narrowed down the approximate size of your…tyre lever…”

"Really?”

"Well…I had underestimated, to be honest. Your stature is misleading, as I’m sure you know.”-

"So, that is to say, you were-”

"Incredibly anxious and then surprised in the best possible way.”

"I was going for ‘not disappointed’, but alright.”

"Not in the slightest. My God, not even a little. In fact, what’s the opposite of disappointed?”

"Satisfied?”

"More than.”

"Sated?”

"Never.”

7 AM: Talking has ceased. The sun seeps in at the sides of the drapes, pale and gray. It’s a bit chilly, but neither know- it’s aafe and warm in the bubble of their room.

Neither sleep until around noon, after tea and toast in bed- the rain hits the roof in steady droves, tapping occasionally at the window if the wind blows a certain way.

Sherlock gets absolutely no work done.

unlike all the other season 3 trailers, the official one released earlier today is giving me very mixed emotions right now and I gotta write em down so here we go!

the pros

  • lotor’s galra women were back, and as stunning as ever
  • the action shots were absolutely beautiful, and it was really nice to see the lions flying together without actually forming voltron (showing that all have them have improved their piloting skills)
  • “we need to get out of here, we’ve been led into a trap! the tables have turned - he’s flipped the script - the hunters have become the hunted!
  • keith was shown being an good leader and successfully giving the others a will to keep fighting which may or may not have made me tear up a little (god I’m so proud-)
  • “this is OUR team” - resident lone wolf keith who isn’t alone anymore punch me in the face I’m crying
  • hunk asking keith, their leader what to do, and then the trailer immediately cutting to pidge, the fOURTEEN YEAR OLD telling him they needed an ACTUAL plan
  • AND OF COURSE - THIS FACE

the cons

  • way too much lotor. like way too fuckin much. put him back. put him back in the hellhole he came from please and thank you
  • where on earth were lance, allura and coran? allura had one line about the black lion, lance yelled ‘yeah!’ along with the others after keith rallied the troops, and coran screamed the word ‘no’. like. that’s all they got folks
  • no signs of shiro’s whereabouts, but I wasn’t really expecting any so I don’t mind too much
  • most of the situations the paladins are shown in are very hopeless looking, it looks like they won’t be catching a break this season because of low turd
  • carrying on from the above point, it looks like lance is being shot at, so I’m glad the trailers are carrying on their trend of showing lance in danger or not showing him at all
  • and coran’s scream actually hurt my soul. don’t hurt space uncle. blease.
Through the Years (Part 3)

Summary: Through mysterious circumstances, you find yourself exchanging letters with a man who lived 70 years in the past.

Word Count: 1,803

Part 1 Part 2

Originally posted by yesbucky


2011

It was impossible, you knew that it was. There was absolutely no way that this letter really was from the date written on it. Yet again, it was yellowed and seemed to be crumbling. After all, it had supposedly existed for seventy years. Swallowing thickly, you began to read.


Dear Y/N,

My name is James Barnes. I am the new tenant in the apartment and would like to ask how you know about the fire that happened in the bedroom. It just happened a week ago and I was already living here. How did you know it was going to happen, that it was going to leave a large burn mark on the wall?

I’m not accusing you of anything, please don’t think I am. I am just curious.

Sincerely,

James.

Keep reading

More Voltron Quotes Inspired by Shit My Friends Have Said

Lance: *glaring at person*
Another friend walks up: “What are they doing?”
Me: “Oh, they’re staring and judging that one person.”
Friend: “Okay, so…?”
Me: “But they’re staring and judging them in Spanish.”
Friend: “Oh shit, what did they do?!”

Pidge: “I would sell my soul to have free wifi wherever I went, but that would indicate that I had a soul to begin with, so…”

Hunk: “Oh jeez, I’m so full. I will never eat again. I can’t even look or think about food.” *Literally two seconds later* “Holy shit, is that cake? Get out of my fuckin’ way!!”

Shiro: “Can I sue my parents for giving birth to me? I didn’t ask to be born, and this fucking sucks. Just launch me into space with some Doritos and, I dunno, a cat or something and we’ll call it even.”

Keith: “Will you stop being happy for one second because it’s really pissing me off.” *Friends stare at them* *Realizes what they just said* “Uh, I mean, yay I’m sooo fucking happy for you!!”

Allura: *stuffing face full of food, getting it all over the place*
Friend: “Gross.”
*With mouth full* “Excuse me?! I’m a fucking princess!!”

Coran: “I would shave, but I’m already at my prime sexiness, so why would I change that?”

2

So on pg. 8 of Red Queen, Mare is at the arena watching the First Friday Feat and she feels the electricity in her. Maybe everyone feels it, idk, but I thought it was really cool! You really do learn something new each time you read it!

Originally posted by prettyokcowchopblog