There were unexpected moments. These lightning strikes made of sudden calmness and tenderness, of electricity and love, when she would realize again and again just how much the rogue had stolen her heart (and stayed).
Dawn is my little sister. When I was 11 and she was just a tiny baby, I hurt her really badly. I didn’t know what I did was going to cause so much trouble. I just wanted to do something nice. Something that would make us happy.
My parents made me go away for a long time. I didn’t understand why everyone was so angry. I missed my sister terribly. Even worse, I felt betrayed by the people I’d expected to understand me.
After six years of hospitalization, I got to see her again. My parents had passed away in a car accident while I was gone and I went to live with my aunt and uncle. Both were psychologists. Both understood the problem I apparently had. Still, they believed I’d learned to cope with it over the course of my rehabilitation. And they were right. I would never hurt anyone again. The mere thought of it was abhorrent.
So. Sansa. I hear some people think she’s not very clever. This is a view shared by several characters in the books.
But there’s no reason the readership should share those views. Sansa is a very clever individual who makes increasingly good use of several skills she started the series with, and develops greatly as an observer and an actor over the course of the story.
Putting everything under a cut, for reasons of four books of brainpower.
what the hell is she doing. she looks like her joints are malfunctioning. she looks like she’s doing the robot or something, which is not a dance suited for her dress. yuck. 3/10 nice outfit though
a shameless ripoff of apple but with the default lady head pasted onto it. disgraceful. 2.5/10 at least she doesn’t look as broken
what the fuck?? the outline is thicker than donald trump’s skull, the “shoe” is just a semi-circle, and her head is detached from her body! 2/10 help her!!
samsung over here is going for a more casual form of dancing. very bold. it takes guts to try something new like this. 7/10 where is her other hand though
not sure about this one. on one hand the anatomy is alright and the hair is GORGEOUS, but on the other hand her dress is very plain and her dancing (ballet??) doesn’t seem to suit her dress. 5/10 on the fence
this is unbelievably lazy. there is no face, hair, or neck. there are only two colors. this is just a lazily rendered ps1 avatar. i hate it. 1/10 points for pretty sick moves
this is absolutely gorgeous!! it may be simple, but it is very, VERY elegant! the layers of the creatively colored dress, the rose in her hair, the skilled moves, this just screams perfection!! 10/10 facebook amazes me again
such energy!! such passion!! such gorgeous looks!! she does not need a face to convey her excitement! i love it! 10/10 she clearly has lots of practice
uhm…twitter? i think you misunderstood the concept of “dancing”. that is clearly yoga you are doing. 0.5/10 try again
mamma mia is this Honey I Shrunk The Kids?? why is she so small? i can’t even see her! 3/10 wasted potential
i’m kind of on the fence on this one. she moves swiftly and gracefully, yet she is a bit too simple for my tastes. she could pass for the average google emoji, though. 6/10 can you paaaaint with the coloooors of the wiiiind–
A/N: a random story that popped into my head! For all I know, it could be incredibly cringe worthy. I hope you all enjoy it, nonetheless! I have also made the reader a Gryffindor, because it just flowed nicely with the plot. Also, my requests are now open! Feel free to shoot me an ask or a message if there is something you want!
She has her nose pressed up against the window pane of the Gryffindor common room. Her fingers slowly trace the lines of frost dancing across the frosty glass.
It’s the middle of the night, and the world outside is covered with a thick blanket of fluffy white snow. The world is peaceful and quiet, and yet, she feels lost somehow.
Her mind is completely lost and her thoughts are as scattered as the fluttering snowflakes just outside her window. She shakes her head and pulls her icy fingertips away from the window. She really should have gone to bed by now, but she just can’t seem to sleep. Her mind is too scattered and she’s too confused to make heads or tails or her thoughts right now. Normally she has her act together. Normally she knows exactly what she should, would and could do.
But not when it comes to Fred Weasley.
He was a wild card, and she never expected herself to become friends with him, let alone fall madly in love with him.
She had always seen her Prince Charming as a tall, rugged, blond-haired, blue-eyed classic beauty. She never in a million years expected him to have red hair, or that playful smattering of freckles on his face, or those beautiful eyes that almost always had a mischievous twinkle in them.
They didn’t become friends until her third year, and she was surprised to see how much they actually had in common. They soon began to hand out more and more, and what used to be “Fred and George Weasley” slowly grew into “(Y/n) and Fred and George Weasley”.
Their friendship was wild, fun and filled with endless days of laughter. There were countless copies of silly photographs scattered around their dorms of their wild adventures, capturing some of their finest moments. Endless trips to Hogsmeade, days spent lounging out by the lake, days filled with Quidditch and laughs and smiles and all the best things in life.
The day that Fred asked Angelina to the Yule Ball instead of her broke her heart just a little bit. That was the day that she began to suspect that her feelings for Fred were something more than just pure platonic friendship. Those consuming feelings were swallowing her whole and she couldn’t get rid of them. So, naturally, she shoved them deep down inside her and forced herself to put on a smile instead. She would be happy, and she would continue acting like everything was perfectly alright in her seemingly picture perfect life.
She wants so desperately to scream out to the world her love for Fred, but she won’t let herself do it. He is her friend, and probably thinks of her as nothing more than that.
She shakes her head, jarring herself back to reality. She traces a tiny heart in the corner of the glass with her index finger, smiling at the simplicity of it. She slowly peels herself up and off of the bench, making her way over to the staircase leading up to her dorm. She would just have to deal with all of this in the morning.
The next day dawned as beautiful as ever, and (Y/n) woke up and peeled herself out of bed. She got ready for her day, following the same thoughtless routine. She was making her way into the common room when she was tapped on the shoulder by none other than Fred Weasley himself.
“So. (Y/n). You’re still on for Hogsmeade today, right?”
She raised her eyebrow.
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“You’ve just been sort of off lately. You haven’t been your normal self.”
She let out a single, melodic laugh.
“You have no idea, Fred. No idea.”
With that, she bid him farewell and rushed out the door.
Fred turned to George with a look of utter bewilderment on his face. George simply shrugged and shook his head.
She continued to sit at that same window, every night, hoping to reach some sort of conclusion to her problems. It was one fateful night when Fred happened to get up in the middle of the night, for some unknown reason. He didn’t notice (Y/n) at first, but when he did, he noticed the utterly confused look on her face. He paused for a moment, sighing.
“(Y/n), what are you doing up this late? You should be sleeping!”
She jumped, only registering Fred’s presence when he spoke. She looked up at him, blinked slowly and threw her hands into her face. Fred rushed over to her. He sat down on the bench next to her and gently asked what was wrong. She mumble that absolutely nothing was wrong into her hands.
“Now, we both now that isn’t true. Please, tell me what is wrong so I can try and help you.”
It was at that moment in time when she reached a conclusion and shattered into a million tiny pieces.
She said, all in a big rush “You’re not supposed to fall in love with your best friend!”
Fred’s face was unreadable. (Y/n) couldn’t tell what he was thinking. He turned his face to the window. She gently nudged him.
“Fred, what is it?”
“It’s George, isn’t it? You fell in love with George.”
She shook her head slowly, beginning to understand. Fred thought she was in love with his brother this entire time.
“Fred” she shook her head. “It’s always been you.”
He turned to look at her, doubt clouding his eyes.
“You’re not in love with George?”
“No. If anything, I love him as a brother.”
She smiled awkwardly.
“I understand if you don’t feel the same way… it’s just I’ve been thinking about it for so long, and I didn’t know what to do and I’m just honestly a mess right now so I really hope you’ll forgive me.”
Fred smiled and laughed a bit.
“You’re adorable when you ramble, you know that, right?”
“Are you sure? Because sometimes I just ramble when I’m nervous to fill up space and…”
He cut her off with a simple kiss, tangling his hands in her hair.
They break apart, hundreds of unspoken promises filling the air around them in that moment. He holds his arms out and pulls her into them. He waves his wand and summons a blanket over to the two of them, wrapping it around them. She leans her head on his shoulder, and everything is right in her perfect little world again.
They’re thunder and lightning, the two of them
Coming one after the other
Even if they’re a bit apart
He roars, softly shaking the whole universe
Not seen, but refusing to go unnoticed
She electrocutes the sky and disperses into a million sparks
Like a firework created by God himself
Together they jump from balconies
Hold the stars and cling to them
When he would forget what he sounds like
She would crackle and remind him
And when she would cry out and the whole sky burned
He would scream with her so that she was not alone
They made a perfect storm
Intense and sometimes disastrous
But so beautiful they could fill rooms they weren’t in
And when they laughed
I think the angels could hear them