I don’t want to say too much about that. I don’t want to lay my cards on the table. I want to preserve that. There were more feelings for Sansa than I’ve let on the in the past. It becomes obvious. It’s an emotional farewell. And it’s a humiliating position to be in. He’s back in the sort of humiliating position that has been a driver for him: The rejection of Catelyn Stark, the humiliation by [Ned Stark’s older brother] Brandon Stark — back when he cut him from navel to collarbone and didn’t kill him [after their duel over Catelyn in their youth]. He’s put back in that position again.
Tumblr prompt: runaway prince!simon and
Two weeks from his coronation and three
from his wedding to Princess Isabelle of Idris, the Prince of New York found
himself on a park bench in Brooklyn. His face buried in the palms of his hand
as his phone continued to ring.
Deep breaths. Deep breathes. Deep- the phone is laying in pieces on the
concrete walkway in shattered fragments.
“You’re a little far from the palace” A
slightly accented voice said, from out of the corner of his eyes Simon saw
“Oh I’m sorry your highness, I apologize
for not bowing” The boy snorted.
“Please, just leave me alone” Simon
Simon is always looking for excuses to be near
Raphael. When he finally finds a suitable excuse, he walks in on Raphael doing
something that Simon would have never thought Raphael would do. He was cooking.
Corazón—His heart. He loves Simon so much it hurts.
His beauty, his optimism, it’s a sea of good and Raphael does nothing but dive
right in. And he is not ashamed, because Simon is a gift. God’s gift, and
sometimes Raphael can’t believe what they have together is real, but when Simon
leans down and kisses him, hands running through each other’s hair skimming
down backs, and gripping hips, Raphael lives in every sense and knows that this
Raphael sighs, shaking his head more to himself than
anything else as he reaches down for Simon and pulls the other boy up again.
“That will be all for today” he pulls the bottom of his tank top up, using the
material to wipe away sweat, unaware of Simon’s gaze tracking over his abdomen.
“You did good but not good enough, even if you pinning me down was kind of hot”
I’ve just been thinking about how my brother broke his wrist on the playground in elementary school and said afterward that he felt like crying but was proud that he didn’t. And I’ve also been thinking about how when I (a girl) was around the same age and I broke my wrist in a similar situation, surrounded by my peers, I broke down crying IMMEDIATELY because that’s just what your body DOES when it’s in that kind of pain. And it’s so disturbing to me that boys are told from a young age to suppress that harmless instinct to cry, that if they act human it’s a threat to the male identity. Let boys cry, and stop using the act of crying to reaffirm your ideas of inherent female weakness.