her daydream

A gift for a girl who no longer exists

It shouldn’t matter as much to her as it does, this small silver hairnet of blue and white stones that Jon’s just given her, stammering all the while.

Sansa remembers when gifts and jewels filled her daydreams. She’d while away the hours spinning stories about the favors she’d graciously bestow on golden knights, and the gowns and jewels suitors would shower her with as they tried to woo her.

Sansa’s gowns are simple now, made by her own hand as she sits in the Lord’s Chambers Jon prepared for her. She sews designs that are easy to take on and off. Lords and ladies alike compliment her on the elegant, sweeping lines. She smiles, and keeps the true reason to herself - she can’t bear the thought of anyone touching her, even if only to help her dress. 

She turns away offers of ladies’ maids, and wears her hair plainly, spilling over her shoulders. Some of her advisers think it’s a strategic move, a “banner for all the North to see,” a subtle reminder of her lady mother. Sansa’s not blind to the symbolism, and uses it to her advantage, But she also can’t bear to have someone stand behind her, to brush and braid her hair. The feeling is too intimate, and too vulnerable. So she pins pieces away from her face, and lets the rest fall free. 

Jon devotes too much time to her comfort, now that he’s King in the North. He asks after whether she’s eating, and makes sure her chambers are well-stocked with logs. When she confronts him about it, he rubs the back of his head and mumbles a few words about remembering how cold she was at the Wall.

She’s frustrated that he recalls that moment of weakness. She’s also touched.

Now, as she pours the hairnet through her fingers, she starts to smile. She thinks how she could make a gown match, with embroidery that would bring out the shine of the silver metal. But she’s afraid of opening up that part of herself again. She’s wary of giving voice to the girl inside her who still loves pretty things, and might, just might, believe in songs. 

Jon sees her face fall. He sways towards her, then stops. “Do you…is it the wrong size?”

Sansa can’t hold back a small laugh. Jon’s stance eases. “No, Jon, I can adjust the hairstyle, a hairnet can’t be too small.”

Jon looks as relieved as he does when a favorable report comes in about their growing support from the Northern houses. “Good, that’s good. I just thought it would…look nice, with your hair.”

At King’s Landing, men had recited poetry for Sansa. She’d even received a few fanciful, beautifully written love notes delivered by secret messengers. All were politically motivated, calculated to test her loyalty, to Joffrey, or to Tyrion. She’d learned to steel herself to sweet gestures. So she’s not sure why she’s fighting back tears at Jon’s simple words.  

“Sansa, are you all right?” Sansa glances at Jon. His brow is furrowed, and he’s nervous again. She wishes he’d leave, and let her vent her unruly emotions in peace. She wishes he’d open his arms, so she could walk into them, because she thinks his touch might be one she could welcome. 

Sansa nods, composing herself. “Yes. Thank you Jon. I’ll…” She has a response ready from her prior life - a promise to wear the gift soon. But she can’t give Jon that promise. As talented as she is, without a ladies’ maid, she can’t craft a style on her own that would allow her to place the net in her hair. So there will be no gown with silver thread, and no moment where she gazes into her mirror, admiring how the stones bring out the color of her eyes. “I’ll keep it safe. It’s beautiful.” 

Jon shifts his weight. He seems about to say something more, but instead awkwardly takes his leave. Sansa carefully stows the gift away in a drawer. She takes it out from time to time, allowing herself to hold the stones up to the light, before tucking it away again. The girl who loves this gift can have a few moments of Sansa’s time, but no more. There’s a war on, after all, and Winter is here. 


inspired by @dragonchristianlady97‘s headcanon about Jon giving Sansa gifts! Edit: There is a sequel here: I don’t know about kings, but I’ll help you, because I couldn’t leave Sansa so sad. 

The fact that Moana put aside her longing for the sea in order to focus on becoming the best leader she could for her people was one of the best and most believable parts of the movie for me. She didn’t mope and turn into a bratty teenager who refused to do what her parents wanted (like many Disney/animated characters often do). People DO grow out of childhood fazes, or at least they move on from them even if they’re not completely forgotten. Sometimes they rediscover them later in life, like Moana did. But I love how her parents were never made to be the villains for not letting her spend all day daydreaming about the ocean. Sure, she argued with her dad, but they gave him a pretty good backstory to support his thinking and Moana never let it become a huge rift in their relationship, despite her frustration. Even when Moana DID end up leaving, it was ultimately to save her people. This theme of responsibility instead of rebellion is wonderfully refreshing and realistic!



does anyone else like……. have….. imaginary friends?? i guess would be the best way to put it. but like im 17 so not exactly like imaginary friends like little kids have but pretty much. i cant figure out if its bc of my borderline or maladaptive daydreaming but kinda both. like i kinda,,, disociate/not 100% conected to reality bc in my head im chillin with like gerard way or my fake girlfriend like ?????? (does that make sense????) but its rly weird and confusing

“When you meet your soul mate, you remember,” Greta says simply, and Jon looks insulted, but Greta always says things that she doesn’t realise offend others. Jon knows she doesn’t mean it. Greta’s now staring into space, eyes unfocused like she sees things the rest of us can’t. “Planets align… the universe pauses… your lips hover over his, and you can almost taste him already. You almost know how soft those lips are going to be… full. Perfect.”
     I feel myself slipping into her daydream. A voice rings in my head, an alarmed ‘What are you doing?’ and then my own voice, trying to be cocky: ‘Pitying you.’ Right there next to the tour bus. The urgency of our lips, the barely controlled want, the –
     “See, he remembers,” Greta says, smirking. I snap out of it. They’re both staring at me. I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.
—  The Heart Rate of a Mouse; Wolves vs. Hearts, Chapter Two

‘When you meet your soul mate, you remember,’ Greta says simply, and Jon looks insulted, but Greta always says things that she doesn’t realise offend others. Jon knows she doesn’t mean it. Greta’s now staring into space, eyes unfocused like she sees things the rest of us can’t. 'Planets align… the universe pauses… your lips hover over his, and you can almost taste him already. You almost know how soft those lips are going to be… full. Perfect.’

I feel myself slipping into her daydream. A voice rings in my head, an alarmed 'What are you doing?’ And then my own voice, trying to be cocky: 'Pitying you.’ Right there next to the tour bus. The urgency of our lips, the barely controlled want, the -

'See, he remembers,’ Greta says, smirking. I snap out of it. They’re both staring at me. I feel like I’ve been caught red-handed.

—  The Heart Rate of a Mouse; Volume II, Book I, Chapter II.
I like her. Like, I genuinely like her. I spend hours daydreaming about walking up to her and slipping my fingers in the spaces between hers and just holding her hand in mine. I spend hours just thinking of ways to say hi to her. ‘Hey’ No. 'Hiya’ Hiya? What the fuck? 'Sup?’ Sup? Sup? Oh my god. I spend hours missing her and texting her stupid gifs and memes that hopefully make her smile. I like hearing her voice even if it’s just through the phone because she’s sick or at work or with her family. When we talk it feels like she’s right next to me. And when she is next to me, there’s nowhere else I’d rather be.
—  Oko Ninjah (like)
Remember (Soulmate AU)

Summary: Soulmates have their names written on their arms. Bucky has the reader’s name written on his left arm. 

Word Count: 2,149

Warnings: Slight angst.

A/N: Hope you all enjoy!

Originally posted by hostagesandsnacks

Bucky Barnes has only one thing in mind, and it is what fuels him forward, makes him get up and fight. It’s the name written on his left forearm, a name he has come to know better than his, a name that acts as the catalyst for his dreams of better days.

Bucky Barnes trails his fingertips over the letters etched on his skin countless times. He daydreams about her, meeting her, loving her, holding her. She is what makes him move when all he wants to do is curl up into a fetal position and wither away into obliviousness.

Bucky Barnes knows that he has to go back home, that she will be waiting for him back in the place he grew up in. He knows he has to survive this terrible war, that he has to be better, because she’s waiting for him. Bucky lives for her, breathes for the sole purpose of one day setting his eyes on her, tolerates everything because it’ll all lead him straight into her arms.

Keep reading

The Lucky One

Everybody’s favourite underrated characters for the Carry On Countdown


The strangest thing for me about falling in love with a girl was that it felt exactly the same as falling in love with a boy.  If I hadn’t known what that felt like, I might have never understood what I was feeling towards Trixie.

           We’d been friends for years, spending more time with each other than with our separate roommates, laughing and loving and simply being the two of us.  It was like the two of us together was a completely different thing from the two of us on our own.  We became a new entity, one that we preferred to our own selves.

           Although I might have taken it a bit too far. Because I fell.  I fell hard.

           And it took me years to figure it out.  Why I would instantly heat up when she smiled at me, why my stomach buzzed when we touched, why I would hear love songs and immediately think of her, why I daydreamed about kissing her and what it would feel like.

           But I didn’t tell her, because I also daydreamed about what it would feel like when she rejected me, told me she only wanted to be my friend, told me she loved me but not like that.

           Of course, there was the chance she would love me back.  I knew she was a lesbian, she had told me so years ago.  Incidentally, it was right around then that I started heating up when I saw her, getting jealous when she smiled at other girls.

           But the odds of her turning me down, of our friendship being ruined, were too high for me to ignore.  And I would rather spend my life keeping my love to myself and being with her, than not seeing her again.

           So I burned silently.


“Does Penny ever sleep in here anymore?”

           “Not really,” Trixie shrugged, “she just pops in to grab her books sometimes.  I practically have the room to myself.”

           “That must be nice.”

           “Well, of course,” she grinned at me, “it means you can sleep over all the time.”

           I looked down to hide my blush.

           “It also means,” she went on, “that I get to keep you all to myself.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “I mean, if I didn’t hold you captive in my room all the time, you’d probably go off and get a boyfriend or a girlfriend and leave me all alone.”

           I chuckled.  “Unlikely.”

           “That’s because you love me the most, right?” She flashed me her biggest smile.

           “Of course,” I said truthfully, saddened by the fact that she couldn’t know exactly how deep my answer went.

           Trixie flopped down on the bed next to me.  “Out of curiosity though, is there anyone you would want to date right now?”

           I tried to laugh but it came out a choke.  “What is this, Truth or Dare?”

           “Sure,” she agreed.  “Truth: do you like anyone?”

           “Can I chicken out?”


           I took a breath as subtly as I could, hoping I didn’t look as terrified as I felt.  “Yes, I like someone.  But it’s not going to work out for me.”

           Trixie’s smile wavered.  “Why not?  You’re a perfectly wonderful girl, beautiful too.  Who would say no to you?”

           I captured her words in my heart to replay later. “Someone who doesn’t like me back.”

           “How do you know?  Have you told them?”


           “Then you can’t know.”

           I shook my head.  “It’s a bit more complicated than that.  I’m afraid that if I tell them, and they reject me, that they’ll never talk to me again.”

           “I dare you to tell them.”

           I laughed.  “You can’t do that, I already told a Truth, you can’t Dare me on the same turn.”

           “Alright, fine, my turn.  But you should tell them, and if they say no, tell me who it is so I can go set them straight for you.”

           “I think setting them gay for me would be more effective,” I murmured before I could stop myself.

           She sat up.  “So it’s a girl then?”

           “No further questions,” I glared at her, smiling. “Your turn, Truth or Dare?”

           “Truth,” she declared without a thought.

           “Do you like anyone?”  I cursed myself inwardly for opening this door.  The last thing I needed was to find out she was in love with someone else. But the words were already out, and she was already grinning shamelessly.

           “Yes I do.”


           “One turn, one question,” she told me, and I saw her cheeks turn pink.  “Truth or Dare?”


           “Who is it?”

           My stomach churned as I realized what kind of a corner I’d backed myself into.  Trixie wasn’t going to let me go without getting answers.  I’d either have to lie or tell the truth, and I honestly couldn’t say what I would do if it came to it.

           “I change my mind,” I fumbled.  “Dare.”

           “Alright,” she gave me a smug look.  “I dare you to tell me who it is.”

           “That’s cheating.”

           “Fine, then I dare you to tell her how you feel.  No chickening out.”

           “You can’t make me.”

           “Unfortunately, I can,” she said solemnly, “it’s in the Sacred Pact of Truth or Dare.”

           “How should I even tell her?” I tried to buy myself time, panicking more every second.

           “Just go up to her and kiss her on the cheek,” she shrugged, “girls love that kind of thing, even if they think it’s platonic. Then just go ‘hey, I think we should date’.”

           “Is that how you would do it?”

           “Yeah, probably.”

           “Then why haven’t you done it?”

           The smile faded from her lips.  “I guess I’ve been waiting for the right moment.”

           “Then I dare you to tell her,” I challenged, hating myself, feeling like I was giftwrapping her for another girl.

           She looked at me for a long moment, her expression solid on her porcelain-like face.  Then, abrubtly, she sat up and shifted nearer to me, until she was too close for me to see her clearly without going cross-eyed, too close for me to think clearly.

           It took me a second to process what was happening, and by then she had already kissed my cheek, slowly and soundly.

           She drew back, looked me directly in my wide eyes. “Hey,” she said softly, “I think we should date.”

           I couldn’t breathe, my hand went involuntarily to cover my mouth.  “This isn’t happening,” I whispered.

           “I like you, Keris,” she told me without batting an eye.  “I like you a lot.”

           “How do you do that?”

           “Do what?”

           “Just tell someone how you feel about them without any fear of them rejecting you?”

           “You deserve to know,” she shrugged, “the chips can fall where they may.”



           I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

           When I pulled back, her eyes were shining, and I was speechless.  I couldn’t say the line she’d given me, I could only try to convey everything I was feeling through my eyes.

           “Really?” she whispered.


           She giggled like she couldn’t believe her luck. As if she was the lucky one.  As if I’d ever been out of her league.  

           I was the one who’d been graced by a miracle.  I was the lucky one.

           When she kissed me, I couldn’t kiss her back at first because I was smiling too hard.

           But I recovered, and then I was kissing her like I’d been waiting my whole life.

The Locomotive Continuation

Very short one shot fanfic (more like a musing) becaue I KNOW this happens to Sheldon and no one can tell me differently. Hope you enjoy it…

It had certainly been a very long day… hours in the car to Nevada but the ride had been relaxing. Amy had managed to get “in the zone”. Her daydreams were so realistic; she was actually looking forward to this excursion too. It had all been worth it to see Sheldon with a content smile even if he hadn’t taken his shirt off like she would have liked him too. He was glowing and had a level of excitement she had not seen in a long time. He quietly browsed thru a train book he bought at the gift shop. She was happy to know she had a part in making him so happy.

She was exhausted though. She couldn’t wait to get to the hotel and take a long shower and wash her hair before going to bed. She felt sticky and dusty at the same time. Upon arrival to their hotel room she quickly opened her suitcase and communicated her intentions.

“I can’t wait to take a shower.” She said.

“Go ahead. I’m intrigued by this book.” He responded.

She began gathering her clothes as Sheldon flipped through the pages. He was distracted by Amy’s position as she bent over her luggage looking for her clothes. He stares at her as she cautiously used her fingers to shuffle through the folded clothes without messing anything up and carefully pulling out her gown. She proceeded to reach in the top pocket in her bag and pulled out her nicely laced light pink panties. Sheldon licked his dry lips and put his eyes on the page again. She sat on the edge of the bed and kicked of her shoes and pulled of her socks, revealing her cute toes. Sheldon looked at how her perfectly crimsoned colored toes still looked even though a little more than a week had passed since Amy had been at the spa with Penny.

Sheldon shook his head as to snap out of it and attempted to look at his train book once again. But he couldn’t help looking at Amy again who had gotten up from the bed and was unbuttoning her cardigan. She brushed it of her shoulders, Sheldon kind of wishing she would without her shirt too. She placed it in a small bag she took out of one of the compartments, also taking out a hair tie. She tossed her head down in front of almost to her knees, collecting all her hair in a cute messy ponytail and taking of her glasses. His girlfriend face was gorgeous and her eyes were a heavenly shade of green which seemed to change colors. Sheldon found them mesmerizing. Her skirt wrapped itself tightly to her beautiful posterior and Sheldon could not help but reminisce on the warmth that radiated from it anytime he was near. He thickly swallowed as he noticed himself feeling thirsty.

She walked to the bathroom leaving the door halfway open and he could see her set the water to the perfect temperature. She proceeded to remove each item of clothes exposing her back side, her juicy rear and her soft naked fair skin. As soon as she got in, she could feel all the tension leaving her body. Sheldon could feel his pulse raising as he felt his pants tighten.

“Sheldon!” Amy interrupted a distracted Sheldon. “Did you hear what I just said?” She said standing in front of him with her gown, toiletries and towel in her hands.

“What?” a startled Sheldon responded snapping out of his flustered state.

“I’m asking if you really don’t mind me going first because I may be in the shower for a while. But it seems like you forgot I was even here. Are you okay?” Amy began to wonder if Sheldon was starting to feel sick.

“Oh! I’m sorry for not responding, Amy. I… um”. He felt like a kid that had just been caught with his hands in the cookie jar. “My mind just wandered off.” He said as he fanned his blushed face with one hand and placed the book down on the table. “What were you saying?”

Amy looked at him curiously “I was just making sure you didn’t want to hop in the shower first because I plan on staying in there a while.”

He stood from his seat. “Do you…?” His voice changed to a husky tone as he raised his eyebrows flirtatiously.

Amy shyly smirked. Her handsome boyfriend always had a way of doing THIS to her, but she knew better than to get worked up. “Yes, Sheldon. I’m just giving you the option. You want to hop in before I take over the bathroom or can I just go? I don’t want to be hurried.”

He quietly approached her freeing one hand into his. Their warm bodies met. “I say we solve this problem right now. How about we both take a shower together?”. His piercing blue eyes dug into hers awaiting a response.

Amy’s mouth almost dropped opened, followed by a smiling nod “Yes, please”. He licked his lips and placed a gentle kiss on her soft rosy lips before leading her by the hand into the bathroom.