Why can’t arya just…….go home? Head south later and stop by just to say “hey, still alive and kickin”. She’s gotta know about Jon and Sansa right? Everyone knows.
Listen, all I fucking want is a stark reunion. Cersei can destroy King’s Landing with wild fire. The dragons can die and Dany can marry Euron. Petyr can sit on the iron throne for all I care. Just please give me a stark group hug, or even just 2 minutes together, PLEASE.
Robert raised an eyebrow as his husband entered the room, the blue polka dot shirt he was wearing oddly familiar. “Is that my shirt?” he asked, realising he recognised it because it usually hung on his side of the wardrobe, not because he spent his life picking it up off their bedroom floor, like he did with most of Aaron’s clothes.
Aaron grinned at him, shrugging as he walked past to turn the kettle on, clattering mugs about as he replied. “I’ve got a meeting, haven’t I? You’re always banging on about how presentation is everything, figured I’d dress like a posh twat today and see if that helps.”
Robert rolled his eyes. “I don’t dress like a posh twat,” he defended himself, glancing down at the jumper he was wearing that day, the dark navy material adorned with elbow patches.
Okay, maybe he did, a little.
Aaron set a cup of tea down in front of Robert, settling into the chair beside him. “What are you doing today anyway?” he asked, practically sinking into the kitchen chair as he drank his tea.
Robert couldn’t reply. Aaron so rarely wore shirts, it felt like an absolute novelty to get to sit and look at him now, the immaculately ironed shirt an almost strange sight on his husband, so different to his usual choices of black and grey.
And his arms.
Whatever it was about the shirt, it accentuated every inch of muscle that made up Aaron’s arms, arms made strong from years of pulling and drag metal up at the scrapyard.
Robert’s mouth was practically watering as he spoke up. “What time have you got that meeting at?” he asked, tea long since forgotten.
Robert glanced at his watch, a grin on his face as he watched the hand tick over to nine. “Because,” he said, grabbing Aaron by the front of the shirt, enjoying the wide eyed look on Aaron’s face as he leaned in, brushing his lips against Aaron’s in a barely there sort of kiss. “You wearing my clothes is a big turn on for me, Mr Sugden.”
“I’m not going to put myself in a situation I know I’ll be uncomfortable and stressed in,” shouldn’t warrant being told to just “give it a chance,” after months of “"giving it a chance,”“ and shouldn’t warrant being forced to do something that will make you unhappy, and after you don’t give in it still shouldn’t warrant the silent treatment and anger.
Handling a situation with maturity and calmness should not result in hostility from the other person.
You should always have the right to refuse going into a situation.
I’ve never really learned how to miss things. People. Places. I moved around a lot as a kid. And always, really. I’ve been on the move my entire life. Running from or to something. Who knows. That’s another post.
I’ve been away from home for three weeks. Big work trip to Switzerland. And for the first time in my life I think I have some glimmering of an idea of what people mean when they say they miss home. I’ve missed my apartment and my roommate and my friends. I’ve missed my bed and my routine and my favorite restaurants. I’ve missed home. Really, truly ached for it in a way I don’t think I ever have before. I kept thinking it would be nice to talk to people, to call people…my coworkers talk about that, about calling home and talking to loved ones. It sounds nice. I don’t really know how I’d do it. I’ve never really learned how to behave when you miss something. What would I even say? Who would I even call? I don’t really know. There is just some new, fumbling part of me that wants to reach out toward home. Some way to know it’s still there.
See, I’m really bad at permanence. A lot of moving, a lot of death, a lack of family, a bout of serial monogamy (probably in an attempt to fill this very void….) does this thing to you where nothing feels permanent. I know my apartment will be there when I go home. I know my roommate will be there. I know my friends will be there. I know things are still there. Logically I know that.
But some part of me doesn’t believe it. Not really. As excited as I am to go home, some part of me doesn’t want to. Wants to disappear off into the wild blue yonder, to never find out how little home needs me or wants me. To never discover what little impact my presence (or lack thereof) has on this place that has become so important to me.
On this trip (and indeed in the last year or so) I’ve learned a lot about what it means to have a home. I’m not entirely sure I like it.
Someone left a comment on my college au and it made me feel so warm and happy inside and I remembered how much I enjoyed writing it and well… this happened…
It’s very short. I haven’t written anything in a long time and I’m super out of practice.
“You guys left me.” Snotlout’s pout would have suited a five-year-old
fine, but Astrid scowled at the sight of it on his twenty-four year old face.
“We’re in Spain,” she reminded him, working to control her temper.
“And you wanted to do laundry,” her eyes rolled heavenward and prayed for patience, what had he
expected would happen? “Yeah, we left you.”
“That’s not fair guys.” On a child, that tone would have
been accompanied by a foot stop. Both of Snotlout’s feet stayed firmly on the
ground. Thank heaven for small mercies.
“What’s not fair?” Astrid argued. She gestured to Hiccup. “We
stayed up last night to do it, you could have done that too.” Hiccup, for his
part, said nothing and considered ignoring his friends’ argument. It wasn’t the first they’d
had on this trip, it probably wouldn’t be the last.
Snotlout frowned. “Yeah, but-“
Astrid cut him off. “No, but-“ She mimicked the whine in his
tone. “Snot, will you just cut the crap and stop it?”
Hiccup decided it was time to attempt damage control. They
had drawn the attention of a number of other tourists exploring the park.
“Come on guys,” his hands came up in a conciliatory wave. “We’re
all adults here, can’t we just-“
“No Hiccup.” Astrid turned on her boyfriend, facing him as
she jabbed a finger in Snotlout’s direction. “I’ve put up with a lot of things; his complaining all across Europe.”
Jab. “His refusal to compromise on any
activity.” Jab. “I even put up with him running out of money in Italy.” Jab. “But
I’m not going to do it anymore.”
“Jeez, harsh Astrid,” Snotlout whined.
Astrid threw her hands up. “I’m done,” she muttered to the sky.
Her hands dropped to her side and she stormed off.
Snotlout gestured towards her retreating form. “This is why
we don’t invite girls on Bro trips,” he told Hiccup seriously. “Girls ruin
Hiccup was half turned to follow Astrid up the path. “What
are you talking about?” He glared at his cousin. “This was our holiday before
it was yours.”
“It’s a family bonding adventure.” Snotlout complained,
ignoring Hiccup’s long-suffering sigh. “Y’know, because we’ll all be family
Hiccup’s head jerked up. “Shh. Stop. Stop talking.” He
stammered, spinning wildly to glance back towards Astrid but she’d disappeared
around a hedge. “Just… No.”
Snotlout’s expression turned smug, a smirk tugged at the
corner of his mouth.
“You still haven’t…” he trailed off.
“No Snotlout I haven’t,” Hiccup’s hand slid into his pocket
to check that its contents remained. It had become habit since they’d set off on
their holiday. He was terrified he’d lose it, but wanted it close in case he
came across the perfect setting. “Please just- can you please just do your own
thing for the rest of the day?” Not that it
was going to happen today, not with the weight of Astrid and Snotlout’s
argument hanging over them all. Maybe once they were back in France…
At this rate, they’d probably be home again, before Hiccup
found his courage.
“But Hiccup-“ Snotlout was still standing in front of him,
looking set to launch into another argument on the injustice of it all.
“Fine.” Snotlout scowled, he crossed his arms over his chest.
“But you owe me.”
Hiccup scoffed. “No, Snotlout I really don’t.” He watched
his cousin with a pointed expression, until the other man finally sighed and
wandered off, muttering under his breath.
It’s a Get to Know Me of sorts; I’ve done a similar one, but this is actually longer so why not?
Name/Nickname: Raccoon, Racc, Coon (ahaha), Moon. The Most Illuminated and Sacred Prince Raccoon Charming the Adorable. Mama calls me Getoffthetable.
Gender: Firegender master.
Height: 30 cm or 11.8 inches :3
Hogwarts house: Ravenpuff!
( ´ ▽ ` )
Favorite animal: WOLF
Hours of sleep: Around 8, I think
Dogs or cats: DOGGOS. I mean, I love both, but I’m a very doggo raccoon
Number of blankets: Three! Coon’s apparently very coldblooded
(; ω ; )
Dream trip: ICELAND AND JAPAN AND I WANT TO GO TO THE NORTH POLE AND EVERYWHERE.
Dream job: Royal Mage
Time: 11 and some minutes pm right now
Birthday: *nervously sweats*
Favorite bands: Green Day and Rhapsody of Fire and Eluveitie and MCR and FOB and Queen and Halestorm and yes
Favorite solo artist: *nervously sweats* why only one
Song stuck in my head: *dramatic violins* PUGNAA-AAATE BELLATOOO OO OO RES RUUUBRI- Divine Fire, from Final Fantasy Type-0 OST!
Last movie I watched: Pixar’s Coco c:
Last show I watched: MY NAME IS BARRY ALLEN AND I AM- *dramatic pause* The Flash
When did I create my blog: Right, this is always tricky…around October 2016, started using it around May 2017? ヽ(´ー` )┌
What do I post/reblog: I spam FFXV content, freak out in the tags, and answer asks :3
Last thing I googled: “Cold clooded” (non speaker reviewing every concept to make sure it’s fine, leave me alone okay)
Other blogs: Not yet but I plan to make a second one for important notes I wanna take c:
Do I get Asks: Ohboi. So many. They’re 99% of the time always so pretty. I’m slow and I’ve got loads and I hope people don’t hate me for taking so long, but I’ll answer and I love each of them. Coon likes answering things. :3
Why did I choose my URL: Well. I am a raccoon. I come from the moon.
ヽ(´ー` )┌ what were you expecting
Followers: Up to today, 432! I don’t know why but it’s when I’m spamming most and feeling “omg everybody hates me” that people start randomly appearing to follow. Hhnfghfdngf, I love each of these people. Every person following me is a Raccoobo by default, and a raccoobo is friend.
Lucky number: 11 and 9!
Favorite instrument: As in to listen to? Because I love harps and classical guitars and I love flutes and pianos.
What am I wearing: My Prince crown and my fabulous royal cape, and that’s it because I’m a raccoon. Probably should be getting in my PJs tho. Coon’s sleepy and tired
( ˙꒳˙ )
Favorite food: I cannot choose
Nationality: The moon is not a nation, it’s one big raccoon garden! :3
Favorite song: how do you ever pick only one
Last book I read: Seraphina, by Rachel Hartman.
Top three fictional universes I’d like to join: Right, but only if I get some skills or powers to survive or if I live in the peaceful times? Right. Obvioulsy FFXV because it’s consumed my soul. Some Hyrule. Avatar: Last Airbender’s :3