look at all those notes from them

Moonlight Academy Google Classroom

I have recently discovered Google classroom and came up with the idea of creating a classroom to specifically for connecting witches and encouraging them to learn all they can on witchcraft.

What will be included?

  1. Weekly Discussion Topics
  2. Advice from seasoned witches
  3. Witchcraft book recommendations
  4. Weekly assignments
  5. Connections with a variety of witches, lets make this witchcraft community stronger!
  6. Powerpoint presentations 
  7. Videos 
  8. Weekly ‘themes’

Who will be included?

Anyone with an interest in furthering their path through google classroom

What do you need?

A gmail account and an open mind :)

NOTE: I will be looking for other witches, preferably those with a bit of experience, to help me run this.  Shoot me a message if you are interested!

I will post the code to get onto google classroom once everything is organized.

Have some ideas or questions on this google classroom? Please feel free to message me! I would love some feedback. 

anonymous asked:

Rosso is playing pranks on all of the tall El Masters (Solace, Ebalon, Gaia and Ventus). Denif finds out that it was Rosso causing all the mischief and is not amused. But Rosso was apparently just paying back all the short jokes he had to endure from them. (Nobody dares to joke about Denif, because Denif is an ancient dragon, but Rosso is just as short.) I leave it to you how Denif reacts C:

“Wait, so you’re the one who put a scorpion in Gaia’s pillowcase.”

Rosso grimaced.  That was confirmation enough for Denif, that he didn’t deny it.

“And replaced Ebalon’s sunscreen with tanning cream, and covered every surface of Ventus’ room with sticky notes?  What were you planning to do with all those cat pictures you have now, then?”

Rosso looked down at the massive stack of cat pictures he was carrying.  “Well… Um.  I was going to replace all of Solace’s pictures of Harnier with these, but I guess you’re going to stop me now, huh?”

“No, I’m not.”  Denif shrugged.  “I might have stopped you for literally anyone else, but for Solace, I’m inclined to actually help you.  Any reason why, though?”

“They teased me for my height.  We can’t all be ancient, all-powerful dragons who never get made fun of.”

Denif laughs, and Rosso actually grins.  So maybe he’ll get away with this after all.

A Really Fucking Vulgar Guide to Not Losing Your Shit in College (Condensed Version)

Bitches love to put things into lists. Moreover, bitches love numbered shit. Here’s some numbered shit in list format to help you not suck in higher education. You’re welcome.

1. Go to class. Like 210% serious. I don’t give a shit if you’re a get by on nothing, A+ slacker. You’re fucking paying for this crap so you might as well get the services owed to you. Take your ass to class even if you zone out 99% of the time. You know 1% more than you did when you walked up in there. Congrats, asshole.

2. All that free time you have during your first week of classes? Make it your bitch. Don’t just print the goddamn syllabus and be like all done. No motherfucker. Take a good fucking look at that assignment list. What’s due next week? Yeah, do that shit now bc I know you don’t have anything else to do. Then when you’re coughing up a lung six weeks into the semester and don’t feel like getting your ass up to do that calculus homework, you’ll remember this week. You’ll remember that you’ve been a week ahead this whole damn semester. Pat yourself on the back, ass wipe.

3. Prepare yo self. No seriously. You got notes to print for class? Sure you could be like all those other bitches and just shove them into your backpack, or you could actually /prepare/ for class. I’m talking looking that shit over, identifying key concepts, getting a decent grasp of the material before your ass is even in class. You a STEM major? Yeah, make this kinda shit your life because now class is like one bomb ass group review session. Again, you’re welcome.

4. Snack like a motherfucker, but save that junk food shit for the weekends. From now on, you are a fucking health guru during the week or if you’re a slacker like me, at least on the days you have class. Fruits? Hell yeah. Pack some of those. Mind wandering in class? Snack on some apple slices. Can’t stay awake? Keep eating some almonds or some shit, but don’t be that bitch with the potato chips. Just don’t.

5. Read. Yeah, you heard me. Read and I’m not just talking assigned reading. I bet my left butt cheek that your campus library has /something/ of interest to you. Commuting and don’t want to drive out there? Library databases bro. We’re in the digital age, motherfucker. I’d bet my other butt cheek that the shit you want is in a nice little PDF somewhere. But na man, you thinking maybe you want to go into computer science? Check out computer science books and eat them up bro. You don’t like reading them? Probably not the field for you. You a biology major in your second year? Yeah dumbass. Time to break out the bio books and not the ones your professor is shoving in your face. Amaze your friends and teachers with your out of class knowledge. Be a fucking star.


all the times he surprised her and the one time he didn’t…

a. Stop making excuses for yourself to do the things you really want and love to do.
b. Spend your time wisely and productively.
c. Keep learning. Every day is a new opportunity for you to grow.
d. Save as much as you can. Save for a long-term goal. Do not save today and spend it later on for unnecessary things. Value your money. You don’t know what the future holds.
e. Stop complaining. Stop ranting. Start appreciating whatever you have right now. You just have to realize that life is about acceptance, being contented and making the best out of the things you have since you have more than enough.
f. Keep in touch with your old friends. They helped you to be the person you are right now. Plus, you are all growing old. It’s nice to look back at those funny moments you did back then.
g. Spend a lot of time with your parents. No matter how busy you are with your work, other activities or friends, make sure that you still lend some of your time to talk or laugh with them before the day ends.
h. Forget the past but learn from it. Live in the present and make the best out of it. Be ready for the future.
—  redserpentfortytwo, Eight Notes to Self I have to Live by Everyday
delicate | (m)

Originally posted by yoongijae

 pairing: min yoongi x reader, pianist! yoongi
genre/warnings: smut, oral, fingering, slightly-dom! yoongi, 
• words: 4,373
→ summary: in which Yoongi is your piano teacher and you just can’t stop yourself from looking at those delicate fingers and all the not-so delicate things he could do with them…
• note. inspired by a request I received here. I have never studied the form of a piano so intently before now just to make this smut doable.

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Tips for Writing Spell Incantations

Keep it simple. I like to memorize my incantations. It just keeps the spell moving smoothly. So keep it simple, keep it short.

Rhyme. Rhyming helps me get in the witchy mindset. It just feels more like magic to me. It also helps with memorization. Some paths (Wicca, mostly) believe that rhyming binds a spell and increases its chances for a desirable result.

One word can be an incantation. Words can help focus a spell and direct its energy, but the magic itself comes from within you. Repeating one word or phrase over and over again is definitely a good way to approach spell work. For example, my general curse spell simply requires the repetition of the phrase, “Pain, Panic, Dread.”

Find a multi-purpose ending. I was raised Catholic, and while I’m no longer part of the faith, I definitely got into the mental habit of saying ‘Amen’ after a prayer, which to me signaled the end of my Important Communication with Higher Power. So when I started practicing witchcraft, I wanted something that would signal the end of a spell. While I don’t do this for every spell, I tend to end most of them with either, “Let it be done” or “So mote it be.” Note that the latter is a Wiccan phrase, not a general witchcraft phrase.

Find inspiration. Lyrics, poems, and lines from plays or book are all great places to look for words for spells. So if you’re not much of writer, don’t sweat it.

Incantations don’t need to be spoken. If you don’t want to speak, or if you can’t, you can think it or mouth the words. Or, if neither of those work for you, you can also write it down, or go a step further and turn your incantation into a sigil (though I don’t recommend this if you’re using other sigils in your spell).

BUT, if you do speak your incantation, play with your voice. I whisper or hiss for curses, I speak normally for other spells, I sing for glamours and love spells. The way you speak can influence your spell as a whole.

Be confident and comfortable. Whatever you end up saying during a spell, make sure that it is true to you and your craft and that you are comfortable saying it. This is your spell, and you should be proud of it :)

Soooo :D after you all requested it (about 3 ppl did - but just let me exaggerate in peace) here is part 3 of Isak and Even doing trust excercises <3 
it starts up right where part 2 ended so if you want to read those first: Part 1 / Part 2 

When they stepped back from each other Isak looked over to Magnus and Vilde. Vilde had a frown on her face that changed into a too bright smile when she caught his gaze. Magnus looked a bit deflated when he saw how close Isak and Even had been. The other two had stopped close in front of each other when both decided this was as close as was comfortable, but there was still a hand length between their bodies.

They had been pretty happy with themselves (especially when most of the other couples had stopped a meter or further away from each other) until their eyes landed on Isak and Even. Who were obviously trying to morph into each other to be closer, toes stacked, noses pressed against each other, touching from chests to knees.

Even shot Mags an encouraging smile as the woman – maybe Lille? – announced the next test.

“Everyone, take one of these scarfs,” she said as she went around and handed each couple one of the colorful fabrics.

“I want the light blue one,” Even stage whispered to Isak who rolled his eyes with pure fondness.

“You’re a child, Even.” But nevertheless he hurried over to where the women was and plucked the light blue one from her arm (this got him a rewarding cheek kiss).

“Blindfold your partner and take your place behind them,” came the instruction. Even raised his brows at Isak and grinned.

“So, nothing new there,” he said as he turned his back to Isak who snorted at his words.

Magnus gave a high pitched “What?” at that which got ignored by the other three.

The next exercise was to guide your partner just with your voice through an obstacle course that the woman – Laura? God, he knew it had been something with L – placed on the ground in front of them.

While the woman talked on about how important it was to completely trust your partner for this Isak rested his hands on Even’s hips and his chin on Even’s shoulder. Even leaned into him a bit and tugged on one of Isak’s hands. He understood the gesture and wrapped his arms around Even’s middle.

When it was time to start Isak placed a quick kiss to the shoulder his chin had been resting on and untangled his arms from around him.

“Ok, go one step forward. For the record, we are talking about normal human-sized steps.” Even laughed and took a relatively moderate step forward.

“Don’t do any of your long spider steps.” This got Isak an offended scoff.

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@bitchycollectionfury-78be5e8b here ya go, thanks, this was fun to write ^-^ nice to write about people being dumber than you are to make yourself feel better


McCree was…

He was…

Well, he was definitely not panicking, that was what he was not doing, because Jesse McCree was one cool customer that could take things as they came and laugh it off.  He’d survived the foster care system and his weird adopted father and his overly intense adopted sister.  He’d survived losing his damn arm, alright, and everything that went down that made it necessary to bundle a young Jesse up and whisk him away to the houses of strangers rather than leave him at home.  And by the end, he’d survived everyone that had thought they could make judgment calls about him without even trying to get to know him, every teacher that had shaken their head and decided some idiots couldn’t be helped, every classmate that had turned their nose up at his accent – a vestigial limb left over from a childhood in the south – or his manner of dress or his sense of humour.  After all, it hadn’t been as bad as all that.  He’d wound up with a great family (he’d die for Gabe and Sombra), and plenty of friends.  He’d learnt to let people go.  Some people just would never see past his shaggy hair or his loud mouth or the cowboy hat he refused to “grow out of”.  Fuck ‘em, that’s what Jesse had learnt.  Shrug your shoulders, turn your back, and go find people that matter.  There had been a time when he couldn’t do that.  There was a time when he’d been living back with his birth family that every disappointed look the teacher had sent him when he’d acted out in class had been like a slap and every report card returned home had been… well, not just like a slap.  There’d been a time when he’d hated everything about Gabriel Reyes, but mostly the fact that he was forcing him to confront a brand new school with people that stared and laughed and huddled among themselves in the cliques they’d formed years back, no space for a new, pushy, desperately loud kid.

Then things had changed.  Then he’d made friends, real friends, and found out what people could be like – what he could be like.  And suddenly the people turning their nose up didn’t matter any more.


And so that was why, as Jesse McCree sat in school library across from Hanzo Shimada, he definitely was not panicking at all.

Even if Hanzo Shimada was hot as sin, with long, dark hair cascading down his back, the most intense eyes Jesse has ever seen, and holy fuck those biceps.

The guy did archery apparently.  Archery. Who the fuck did archery unless they were preparing to run off in some goddamn fantasy movie?  Jesse had never even really given archery much thought as a thing people did – it only really existed in historical documentaries and the Olympics – but now when it was nearly thirty degrees outside and Hanzo Shimada was sitting two feet away from him in a tank top, Jesse was really, really thinking about archery.  And how it must take a lot of strength to constantly be drawing and holding a tense bowstring if you wanted to aim with any degree of accuracy.  And how that sort of strength made it look like your arms and shoulders had been carved from fucking marble.  Especially when one of said statuesque arms had a sleeve of vibrant, blue tattoos running all the way down it.  Jesse could get lost in a bicep like that, with or without blue dragons staring back at him, but the dragons definitely didn’t hurt.

The thing was though, it wasn’t just that.  Jesse had met hot kids before that were out of his league and it generally didn’t really trouble him.  Whatever, laugh it off, move on.  No, of course it had to be more complicated than that.  When Jesse had first entered this class he’d wound his way through the filling seats until he’d found himself sitting next to a boy whose name he would learn was Hanzo.  Jesse had then immediately had his smile met by a flat stare, and he’d figured, oh well, here was an uninteresting asshole.  A hot one, maybe, but an asshole all the same.  It hadn’t seemed important at the time because he’d already turned to the person on his other side – a girl named Angela who apparently wanted to be a doctor (or a researcher…? Something like that, which involved more of the human body than Jesse wanted to think aobut).  She was friendly and laughed easily.

Everything would have been so much easier if Hanzo had just stayed an asshole. The guy was quiet, sure, but Jesse sat elbow-to-elbow with him three times a week and he slowly began to realize that underneath the prickly, don’t-look-at-me-don’t-speak-to-me aura the guy projected, there was something far sweeter down there.  The guy chuckled at every single one of the prof’s bad jokes and Dr Winston had a lot of them, and they were always nonchalantly that most of the class didn’t realize they’d happened… heck, Jesse usually didn’t realize they’d happened until he heard a soft snort next to him.

(And yes, it was a snort. Absolutely and completely undignified and it made Jesse stare at Hanzo until he’d been glared back into submission by the man, who’d seemed flustered that someone had heard him.  How do you tell a guy that may or may not hate your guts just for existed that you thought his silly snort-laugh was cute?  The answer was you did not do that and focused back on your own notes if you value your life.)

As for Hanzo’s notes, well, they were painfully neat and precise.  But amid the sharp ballpoint and careful diagrams, Hanzo Shimada apparently had a habit of making snide details about the lessons in the margins (Jesse knew this because it was a two hour long lecture and sometimes watching your neighbour writes notes out of the corner of your eye was better than trying to listen to a prof drone on at the front of the class for another hour and a half).  It made Jesse start fantasizing about taking out his own pen and writing a little comment in the corner of Hanzo’s page.  Made him think about getting into some sort of stupid note-passing conversation with him like they were eight year olds rather than college kids.  Made him think about getting to have all those weird, witty little comments directed at him, and then seeing where the conversation took them.  (And, occasionally, it made him think about continuing that conversation out of class, possibly down towards a pub he knew for a chat and maybe, oh just maybe, a date.)

Jesse, however, did not dare try – to write the note, that is, entertaining anything else would have been madness.  Hanzo looked like the sort of person that might try to tear your head off if you messed up his notebooks.

Then, just to top it all off, during their lecture breaks, Hanzo often got calls from what Jesse could only assume was a brother.  And, against every expectation, Hanzo Shimada was sweet. Well, still a bit of a deadpan asshole, but no one who’s a hundred percent bad uses his ten minutes of free time to talk with his brother every single day.

“Don’t look at me, I am not playing wing-man for you in a class I need to ace if I wanna keep my GPA up,” Angela had said.  Jesse had pouted at that – he hadn’t even gotten a chance to ask her, had just glanced at her with maybe a slightly-too-hopeful gleam in his eye during one of the breaks Hanzo had left the room to talk with his brother.

And then the fateful day of the class project had arrived.  Winston had told them just to group up with someone sitting beside them rather than running piecemeal through the class.  Jesse had, of course, turned to Angela only to find she had turned around in her seat and was quickly making plans to team up with a girl sitting behind them named Mei.

Frantically Jesse had spun around, but everyone else was making groups with the people to their left or right who they had been getting to know since day one.  With Angela breaking the system, that meant he had only one person left sitting next to him.

Hanzo Shimada was watching him with an unimpressed face and an eye brow raised.

Traitor, he mouthed at Angela.

You’re welcome, mouthed Angela, the Stealth Wing-man.

And so here Jesse was, sitting in the library with someone who presumably hated his guts and thought he was – what, loud? Obnoxious? Lame? – but who Jesse still pathetically, wistfully wanted to impress.  Life, sometimes, was enormous unfair.  At this point Hanzo hadn’t even given Jesse the time of day, he’d been sitting at one of the study tables since before Jesse had arrived, nose an inch from his phone as he texted someone.  Presumably someone cooler than Jesse McCree.

Jesse wanted to groan.  Or shove his pencil in his eye just so he could get out of this project.  Instead he mechanically started pulling out his books and waited for Hanzo to be ready to start on the project with him.


Hanzo Shimada:


Obnoxious Little Brother:
oy give me a sec some of us are still in class and don’t want our phone to be taken away
besides i’m trying to tell zen about how i, the lowly highschooler, am helping my university-bound brother pick up boys

Hanzo Shimada:
Don’t you DARE

Obnoxious Little Brother:
too late
he wishes you luck by the way and says he has complete faith in you
goes to show which one of us  knows you better eh? not him!

Hanzo scowled down at his phone before he gaze flickered briefly up to the person who had sat across from him.  He’d been painfully aware of Jesse McCree since McCree had arrived in the library and pulled back the chair with a scrape that had made the hairs on the back of Hanzo’s neck stand on end.  So far McCree had made no acknowledgment that there was another person at this table, another person he was going to be forced to work along side for the next two weeks.

Hanzo didn’t know whether Zenyatta had faith in him or if Genji had just been trying to wind him up, but Hanzo certainly did not have faith in himself, not about this.  He had never been good at… people. He made, in Genji’s words, “seriously just the worst first impressions.  Like wow.  So bad,” which just wasn’t fair because when it came to a professional setting, when it was about work or networking, he was fine.  He could move effortlessly through the crowds, introduce himself, chat, plan, negotiate.  He’d been dogging his father’s footsteps since it had been decided he would one day take over the family business and he was a devoted student.  But as soon as it was real people in real life Hanzo may as well be carved out of wood; somehow he always managed to put his foot in his mouth.  Which was why he had fallen so low as to turn to his baby brother for advice, because at least Genji, if nothing else could be said about him, was good with people.

Too good with people, if you asked their father.  Genji was a social butterfly who wasn’t so much a butterfly as a housefly, flitting about around everywhere and getting where at lot of people would probably wish he wasn’t and really not caring who he chatted with or what they thought about him.

Obnoxious Little Brother:
look, just don’t do the Hanzo Special and you should be fine

Hanzo Shimada:
Excuse me??

Obnoxious Little Brother:
u kno, your patented Grunt & Growl technique
don’t do that and assume other people can actually understand you bc they can’t

Hanzo wanted to snap back that he did not grunt or growl, thank you, he was a mature adult unlike Genji, but he found his fingers hesitating on the keys.  Frantically he scanned his memory to figure out if he had grunted or growled at Jesse McCree.

God help him he probably had.  He had almost certainly stared stupidly at him.

McCree… glowed, though, and Hanzo wasn’t sure what to do with that.  He spoke so easily.  All it had taken was one glance from McCree on the first day of class for him to apparently decide that Hanzo was a lost cause.  Before Hanzo had managed to scrounge up a single coherent, reasonable thing to say to the sunshine bright, smiling boy who’d sat down next to him, said boy had turned his attentions to the much more receptive form of Angela Ziegler, the girl sitting to his right.

McCree was loud and raucous and ridiculous and he wore the stupidest hat Hanzo had ever seen but god help him he wanted to see McCree smile at him, rather than catch glimpse of it from the corner of his eye while he laughed with someone else.  He wanted to have McCree attention at some point other than when he’d made a fool of himself with his ugly laugh or by seeing McCree stare judgmentally at his notes.

Obnoxious Little Brother:
at the risk of sounding too much like a disney movie have you tried just…. being yourself???
(this was zen’s suggestion btw i’m personally pretty sure being someone other than yourself would be a step in the right direction but you never know maybe disney knows whats up)

Hanzo thought about what McCree had looked like when they had been forced to choose partners.  He had wanted to be anywhere than with Hanzo. The look he had shot Ziegler when she had found a different partner… the helpless, defeated look when he had accepted that the only person nearby not taken was Hanzo.

No, being himself was definitely not going to help him here.

Hanzo Shimada:
Never mind I’ll figure it out

What he was going to do was pretend that Jesse McCree was just some other random student, keep his head down, get this project done with the least amount of fuss, and move on to his next set of class next semester and hopefully forget that McCree existed.

“Shall we get started?” he asked briskly, pocketing his phone and pulling out his own book.

McCree’s face was despondent and it sat like a stone in Hanzo’s gut.  He would rather be anywhere than here.

“Might as well,” said McCree.

jk and tae both HATE jimin

listen here, im here to prove to all of you once and for all that these two despise jimin. like, you’ll see in just a second how the hate rolls off them in waves. anyways, starting off with the maknae

Originally posted by equitas

listen to me, this is exactly how i look at someone i hate

Originally posted by jikookdetails

LOOK. jk’s giving us all pointers on how to show your hatred towards someone through your eyes. take notes peeps.

now, THIS is how you do it. look at him shoot hearts daggers with his eyes. anyways, let’s move on to tae bc im already losing it

Originally posted by kthish

tae be like…”jimin get your frickin small hands away from me. i dont like you jimin, i dont like your small hands either i dont find them cute at all”

Originally posted by tayonge

tae: “wow, i hate jimin with every fibre of my being…” look at those daggers hes shooting at jimin. damn. can you feel the hate yet?

Originally posted by locotaehyung

what you’re seeing above is NOT vmin cuddling. fuck no.

Originally posted by chimtae

dont even get me started on this jealousy…thing bc thats a separate post can you feel me rolling my eyes yet

Automated Responses

So, I’m a bit of a nerd. I admit it. When I first got into this sugaring thing several years ago, I was lost. I stumbled around, was taken advantage of several times, I had lots of dates blow up in my face (pun intended). And I really got nothing out of it. So, this second time around, I wanted to make sure I didn’t waste my time.

My solution? READ
I purchased lots of books (on my Kindle) on sugar babying (if that’s a verb). Taylor B. Jones’s book. The Liedra Lawson book (even though it’s now laughably dated). The Ho Tactics book (personal favorite). Among others. I read this shit out of these last summer and go back to them frequently.

And one of my favorite tips from all of them, specifically Taylor’s book, is automated responses.

Before, I used to spend so much damn time answering messages and talking all about myself when most men would NEVER put that much effort into responding to me. It was exhausting! It made searching for a sugar daddy even more of a job than it already felt like. I was not having it. So, I came up with a system.

1) On my profile, I specifically state that men must a) tell me their name, b) must share their private photos with me before requesting mine, c) must state why they think we’d be a good match based on my profile. If they do not do all three, I simply send back a message stating “Hi __blank___. Please see my profile for tips on messaging me and requesting my private photos. Thank you and have a happy __whateverdayitis___.” That is #AutomatedResponse1.

2) When they do follow instructions –Keep in mind, those that don’t, will NOT get a response from me. If they won’t take the time to do three simple things, I know they won’t take the time to be good SDs. Very easy way to weed out fakes! –anyway, I respond with a more lengthy automated message. A) I tell them thank you for their message. B) I write something person from their profile that caught my attention. C) Then I ask 5 questions that I expect them to answer. My questions are i) what are they looking for in a relationship/how many arrangements have they had? ii) what’s they’re relationship status. iii) why did they want a sugar baby in the first place iv) what are their likes -sports, movies, food, etc.. And v) what is their budget for an arrangement. After all, if their budget is too low, then I don’t want to waste anyone’s time here.

Also note, those men who don’t want to answer question 5 about budgets, have always consistently ended up screwing me over. So now, if they don’t answer or say “Let’s talk about it in person”, I write them off. Fuck anyone who won’t take the time to answer my questions, number one. And number two, if they don’t have a budget in mind or don’t want to tell you what it is, they don’t have one. They just want to fuck you for free. Which I’m not about.

I’ve learned a lot with these automated questions. A guy might seem really nice and then as soon as I send this message, he’ll call me all sorts of names simply for trying to get some basic info from him. Or likewise, a guy will seem on the cheap side but when he answers, will pleasantly surprise me with his ideal arrangement budget. It’s a quick way to get info. I keep these questions in a Google Doc and simply copy and paste them into messages and change only subtle things, depending on what I read in my POTs profile.

I’ve found this really helps streamline the process of messaging guys back and getting as much info with the minimal amount of effort. Please feel free to take my questions! Remember, if he won’t answer the questions, he’s not worth your time!


Favorite Doctor

“Imagine being Harley’s psychiatrist and the two of you have become really good friends. When the Joker finally comes to rescue her, she refuses to leave without you.”

Requested by Anon: “Can you do one where you are Harleys psychiatrist and they get along like best friends would your in the middle of a session and the door breaks open revealing the joker right before they leave Harley askes to bring her psychiatrist and then you make up the rest plz and thank you”

Warnings: Mentions of Murder


Your pen glided across the paper as you took notes, each word carefully chosen as you listened to the blonde across from you speak. The sessions you had with her were usually light-hearted and “fun”, but you needed to remind her that therapy was about dealing with issues and this girl had a lot of them.

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Images: Dreamworks Voltron Legendary Defender © 2016-2017 Dreamworks Animation LLC. TM World Events Productions. LLC. All Rights Reserved

I spent more time cropping this together than I should have, but I wanted to compare these two side by side because they’ve got a lot of similarities personality wise and it shows in how they stand and express themselves. However, that’s not where I wanted to go.

Let’s talk Team Forestfire

Actually I wanted to know just how over sized Keith’s jacket would be on Pidge. I also wanted to see just how tall he is compared to her. I noted several things when I layered their arms/torsos on top of one another to compare them. First that while Keith’s arms are longer than hers and his shoulders are set a little farther apart: Pidge’s arms are the same width as his, also her mid and lower torso are the same width as well, but her torso is shorter than his. Not by much though. So this leads me to believe his jacket would hang longer on her in the sleeves and longer on the torso, but there wouldn’t be all that much extra slack in the width of the torso of the jacket. I like to note that one would only see the tips of her fingers peak out. Separately while on the subject of borrowing clothing/items from each other, if Keith borrowed her glasses he instantly looks ten times more anime. He also looks older. Pidge conversely looks younger without her glasses. 

Also side note: does Pidge need those glasses to correct her vision? They clearly have glass in them, she’s clearly wearing something with a prescription. So what happened did she wear contacts before hand or something? 

Jumping back to personalities now: these two are both exceptionally smart, very stubborn, and are both sarcastic. Although I’d say Pidge more so than Keith. Though Keith is more stubborn than Pidge. They also both have parental issues and authority issues. 

I enjoy comparing these two. So feel free to tack on headcanons, theories, and other observations below. I thirst for theories and headcanons!


Summary: Y/N and Peter have been best friends since childhood, but when they enter middle school, Y/N joins the popular crowd and leaves Peter behind.

AN: this may become a series lol

Peter Parker x Reader

Send in prompts from this list! // Masterlist

Originally posted by gryffinclaw-in-wilde-times

I ran as fast as I could and hid behind a tree. I peeked from the side to see if he was following me and saw no one. He was right behind me. I thought. I faced back and waited for Peter to call out for me. I went to peek behind me again. Nothing. I turned back and -


“Ah!” I let out a high pitched scream. Peter Parker was hanging upside down from a low branch and laughing his brains out. “Peter! That wasn’t funny!” I crossed my arms.

Peter swung down from the tree. “Oh, come on Y/N. You have to admit that was pretty funny.” He gave me a grin, showing off the loss of his two front teeth.

“For you.” I said, still pouting. I turned around and walked away from Peter. 

“Hey! Y/N! Wait!” Peter yelled out. I stopped and waited for him to catch up. He stood in front of me. “I’m sorry for scaring you.” He looked down at his shoes.

“Okay!” He looked up and I gave him an equally toothless grin. “Let’s go play another game! I’m thinking…tag! TAG YOU’RE IT!” I tapped his shoulder and ran off, laughing. 

“I’m gonna get ya Y/N!” 

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Daiya no Ace Act II Chapter 83: Bloom of Youth

So here it comes, another practice match, Seidou (Tokyou) vs Naruta Tech (Chiba). 

The opening page though, it’s such a familiar scene. You can guess who’s the other figure running separate from the others. How the roles have changed.

Y’know the moment I read where Seidou’s opponent for the practice match is from. I was like, wait, Chiba? Isn’t that where Kuramochi comes from? 


IT IS!! (my memory doesn’t fail me, yay!)

Looking at them, I’ve got the impression that Kuramochi will fit in just fine. They all look like delinquents, even the head coach. Is it something in the water? XDDD

The lineup for this practice match is worth noting. The first to sixth batter is the same from Hakuryuu’s lineup. So it’s safe to say that the players and the positions they hold are locked down, leaving heated competition for those seeking starting Left Fielder and Third Baseman positions with the contenders Asou, Yuuki and Furuya; and Higasa, Kanemaru and Takatsu for each. It’s not just Ace position which competition is fierce.

It looks like this chapter’s analysis is gonna be long and spoilery so…

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Wisdom Teeth Struggles

Characters: Dean x Reader, Sam

Word Count: 2,286

Warnings: None

Summary: You get your wisdom teeth out and Dean and Sam take this opportunity to mess with you… Or you mess with them. 

Author’s Note: This isn’t edited. I just wrote this a while ago and never looked at it until today so I am sorry for all the mistakes in it. 

Originally posted by yaelstiel

Dean was lucky to not have wisdom teeth. However, you did, and they were on their way to pick you up from the orthodontist.

“Remember when you got yours taken out?” Dean looked over at his brother with a smirk.

“Dude, I was 17 and I was hopped up on all those drugs.” Sam grimaced at the memory.

“You tried to kiss me and feel up dad. You thought you were at a gay strip bar.” Dean started to laugh.

“Yeah, yeah, can we not talk about that? That happened a long time ago and frankly, I don’t want to revisit my teen years.” Dean till laughed but he shut up about it and continued to drive. He got to the orthodontist a while later and walked with his brother into the lobby area.

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Sammy’s Gotcha

gif is not mine

Title: Sammy’s Gotcha

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader

Word count: 1,078

Warnings: injured reader, fluff

A/N: This was requested by three different people (all anon). I hope you all enjoy this! Feedback is welcomed and appreciated! I love you all so much! <3 <3

For the past week you had been incredibly stressed.  You never gave yourself time to relax.  There was no time to relax, or so you thought.  Realistically, there was time to relax, but you never did.  You wanted to keep going.  You were afraid that if you slowed down your thoughts and feelings would catch up to you.  The thoughts that stopped you for a whole week only two months ago.  It was as if your whole world as going to crash down around you once again.

Sam was always there by your side through it all.  He never failed to see the signs that things were getting bad again.  Sam saw the way you blocked them out.  Sam noticed how you didn’t sleep at night.  He could see that it was only a matter of time before you would snap.

Unfortunately, that day happened to be today.  After the three of you returned to the bunker, you went straight to your room.  Sam and Dean watched you with concerned eyes.  Dean thought it was best to let you work it out yourself, but that’s not how Sam felt.  Sam kept a reasonable distance behind you as you walked to your room.  Sam could hear your sniffles as they echoed off of the hallway walls.  

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Professor Daddy - Namjoon (BTS) (M)

Summary: ahhh hiii! Could I request a daddy!namjoon smut where he’s also your teacher?? Ahhh

Pairing: Namjoon (BTS) x Reader

Word Count: 2.4k

Genre: Smut, (not so) pure and simple

Warnings: Smut, of course; Daddy kink; Professor kink (is that a thing?)

(A/N – I’m sorry. Truly I am. I’ve never written Daddy! anything before so I’m truly sorry if it came out horrendous)

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Summary: What happens when Jon and Sansa break up - Multiple POVs [inspired by this amazing Bellarke fic]

– warning: mature language – 


For the most part, Arya doesn’t like to involve herself in her siblings’ lives. What they do and who they do are none of her business and she likes to keep it that way. It’s all in a vain hope that they’ll return the courtesy but of course that never happens. The Starks are entirely too involved in each other’s lives, especially Robb, who thinks it’s his duty to order them around just because he’s the oldest. But Arya still tries to keep her life to herself and she actively avoids any and all discussions of her siblings’ love lives. It frankly does not interest her in the least.

So when she finds herself coming home early from hanging out with Gendry and the boys, the last thing she wants to witness is Jon and Sansa fighting. They always bicker every now and then – the problem with opposites dating, she supposes – but this feels different, wrong. And Arya is definitely intruding, only she can’t find it in herself to leave. Call it morbid curiosity.

“You went to Petyr, Sansa, don’t you get that!” Jon yells. “You went to him instead of me!”

“I was trying to help! And it’s not like you were even listening to me. You keep doing this. You keep shutting me out!” Sansa’s shrill voice echoes in the empty house, so laced with hurt that Arya has to suck in a breath.

“So it’s my fault now?” Jon snaps back. “I told you I had it figured out! I had everything under control and then you – you went to fucking Petyr! Petyr, Sansa!”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have if you had just trusted me from the start! But you never have. You always try to shoulder everything yourself and you never let me in.” Sansa’s voice breaks and Arya can imagine her sister so clearly now, red-faced and cheeks splotchy with tears. “I can’t be with someone who doesn’t trust me, Jon. I can’t do this. It hurts too much.”

There’s a moment of silence before, “so that’s it? You’re giving up on us? That’s really it?”

“Don’t you dare, don’t you fucking dare say that I didn’t put everything into this relationship, Jon Snow!”

“Then what, Sansa! Why are you doing this! We fight! This is what we do!” Jon shouts, sounding more and more desperate with each word. It’s unnerving for Arya to hear him like this. Jon’s always been her hero, the person she could depend on to save the day, to always know what to do, but here in this moment, he sounds so small, so lost.

“Maybe it’s not what I want to do anymore! I’m tired of fighting with you. I’m tired of trying when you won’t let me in,” Sansa says but the fight is gone from her voice too.

“I let you in…” But there’s doubt in his voice and even Arya knows he’s lying. More quietly, Jon says, “so that’s it, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

The door leading to the kitchen clicks shut, loud and final even from where Arya is hiding, and then she hears Jon’s heavy exhalation before footsteps lead up the stairs. She doesn’t know what just happened or what they were even fighting about but this feels wrong. Everything about this feels so wrong.


It’s a bit selfish that Tormund is more upset that he won’t get to see Brienne anymore than he is about his friend’s breakup but it’s not like Jon will let him comfort him either. Nor would Tormund even know how to. He’s not really a relationship kind of guy and breakups are completely beyond his understanding. The only thing he can really focus on is how Brienne won’t come around anymore because Sansa won’t come around and that really bloody sucks. He’s kind of grown attached to the woman. There’s something so fierce in the way her gaze flickers around the room, noting everything with calculated precision as if she’s eyeing her best escape routes. It’s weird, sure, but it’s hot as all hell.

He hoped at first that Jon and Sansa would reconcile by the end of the first week. It just didn’t seem possible for those two to stay away from each other for longer than that. They were both stupidly loyal to one another and stupidly in love that on occasion Tormund had walked into a room to see them cuddling only to walk straight out again. But a month has passed and it doesn’t look like they’re getting back together. This is probably it for them. It’s a shame too because he really did like Sansa. She was good for Jon. She made him less of a moody prick.

– which was why when he spots Brienne in a cafe sitting alone in a booth, he instantly sidles along the vinyl seat across from her. She looks up from her book, an exasperated sigh escaping her lips.

“Miss me?” he asks, unable to keep his eyes from appraising her. She’s in a plain beige jumper and dark jeans. Her short cropped blonde hair is messy and falls a little over her forehead. Adorable.

“Don’t you have other friends, Tormund?”

His eyes light up and she realises her mistake instantly. “So we are friends!”

“By proximity,” Brienne snaps irritably. “But now we don’t have to be so go away.”

“We could be again,” he says easily, leaning back and smiling broadly. “I don’t know about your side but Jon’s still hopelessly in love with Sansa. It’s pretty obvious. Man is pathetic.”

There’s a flash of hope then amusement before Brienne schools her features into that impassive mask she always wears. “It’s not our business to meddle.”

“But if they’re both miserable without the other, isn’t it? As friends?”

“I… guess…” Brienne looks thoughtful and then she sighs. “Sansa’s lost weight.”

“Um… congrats?”

“No, you numpty, she’s not eating properly, she’s not sleeping. If I don’t force her every morning to get out of bed, she might not even do that.” Brienne runs her fingers through her hair and Tormund desperately wants to do the same, see if it’s as soft as it looks. “Do you even know what they were fighting about?”

Tormund abruptly sobers up at that and shakes his head. “Every time I ask, Jon just shouts at me so no. Haven’t got a bloody clue.”


“So she’s really a mess without him?” Tormund asks, aware of how this knowledge makes him ache a little because he really did like Sansa. A lot.

“Yeah, and Jon?”

“Hopeless,” he answers easily. “Pathetic. More of a grumpy cunt than ever before.”

Brienne laughs, looks surprised that she did, and shakes her head. It’s adorable. So fucking adorable that Tormund has to hold himself back from just reaching across the table to kiss her. He can do that later. They have friends they need to sort out first.


At sixteen, Rickon is the youngest of the Starks and he’s more than aware that he is because none of his siblings ever lets him forget it. It was nice at first, to be coddled and spoiled by his siblings and parents, but he’s sixteen now. That means he’s almost an adult – not that that means shit to his family. It’s why Rickon spends so much of his time outdoors with his friends. Anything to stay away from the manor and keep active.

But Sansa is home for a week and he can’t help lingering around her. She’s always been his favourite. Sure, he gets along with all of his siblings but Sansa just gets him. She’s always been there for him, a calming presence in his life, and now that she’s home, he just wants to spend all of his time with her. But she’s different. Her smile never quite reaches her eyes and there’s a slowness to her movements like she’s treading against the current. It’s hard to look at her and see the sister he loves so dearly so broken. It makes him hate Jon because Rickon knows this is his fault. He broke his sister’s heart and Rickon’s not sure if he could ever forgive Jon for that.

When Rickon enters the lounge, Sansa is sitting curled up against one end of the sofa with a blanket cocooned around her. She looks so tiny. He hates seeing her like this so in spite of being sixteen and almost a man with a reputation to uphold, he drops on the sofa and curl into her like he was six again.

“Hey,” Sansa chuckles softly as she wraps an arm around him. He’s getting too tall for this but he doesn’t care. His sister is hurting and he needs to help. “What’s up?”

“Nothing,” Rickon hums, resting his head against her shoulder. “You don’t come home that much anymore.”

Sansa’s face falls. “I know. I’m sorry. Work is crazy and I promise I’ll –”

“Sans, it’s alright,” he says, feeling bad for making her feel bad. “I was just observing. Are your shifts really bad?”

“No, it’s… I’m in pediatrics right now and that’s really nice,” she says but he heard her, that falter at the beginning. He knows what she’s thinking without having to ask because he may hate Jon right now but Sansa loved him with everything she had. He’s not a particularly romantic teenager. He’s still in that stage where all he can notice about a girl are her boobs, which he knows distantly is really horrible because he has two headstrong sisters who would kill him if they knew that’s how he’s been reducing the girls in his class to but his hormones are out of whack and it’s honestly hard to focus on much else right now. So yeah, romance is completely not on his radar at all but he’s not stupid. Jon and Sansa dated for years and they’ve probably loved each other for longer. Everyone could tell. When they looked at each other, it was like they were seeing the sun for the first time or the ocean or whatever that makes people that blindingly besotted. A part of him is glad Sansa at least found that kind of love in her lifetime but he’s also angry on her behalf that she lost it too. She deserves the world.

“Is that where you want to be?” Rickon asks after realising he’s been silent for too long.

Sansa shrugs. “I don’t know. Maybe.” She turns her head to look at him. “You don’t have to check up on me. I’m… managing.”

Of course his sister knows exactly what he’s doing. She always could read him. Rickon sighs. “Are you?”

She’s quiet for a long while that it makes Rickon a bit antsy. “No,” she finally whispers softly, heartbreakingly anguished. “No, I’m not.”

Rickon nods, not knowing what else to say. He shifts so he can wrap his arms around his sister. “You will be though.”

“Yeah,” she murmurs before falling asleep a few minutes later, and in that moment, Rickon decides that love sucks.


As soon as she enters the pub, she’s assaulted by a loud raucous shout from the corner where a group of burly men are watching the football. Ygritte rolls her eyes and continues forward until she spots him slumped at a lone table, gripping onto his pint like it’s his lifeline. She walks forward, dodging the stumbling drunks, and drops into the seat across from him.

“When the bartender calls your ex-girlfriend to come and drag you home then that’s a sign that your life is really bloody pathetic,” she says, mild, watching him curiously. “What the fuck is up with you?”

Jon snorts, lifts his eyes to glance at her and then looks back down at his pint. “Nothing. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” she tells him. “You’re the farthest thing from fine.”

“Go home, Ygritte,” he says, sounding exasperated, but he’s also scowling at his pint so it’s really hard to get a read on his emotional state right now. She just knows he’s clearly not fine and he hasn’t been for two months.

“Not without you so either come now or you can finish your pint and tell me what’s really going on.” But she already knows what’s going on. Everyone bloody knows and it’s really honestly the last thing she wants to do right now because listening to her ex-boyfriend talk about his other ex-girlfriend is not exactly fun for her. But it’s also been years since Jon and her broke up so it’s not like she’s jealous or hurting still. She just really hates talking about emotional shit.

“I…” Jon starts, and for a second, Ygritte thinks she’s going to have to beat the truth out of him, but he sighs again. “I fucked up. I fucked everything up.”

“Mhmm, I’m sure you did. So what happened?”

He flashes her a scowl before it falters and then he just looks broken. “I kept pushing her away. I knew I was doing it too. That’s the fucked up thing, right? I knew I was pushing her out and I still did it.”

“You did that with me too,” Ygritte says gently, which isn’t really a state of being that she’s used to but there’s something wild about the way Jon looks right now, like if she said the wrong thing, he’d bolt.

He smiles faintly. “I know.”

“You want to hear my theory?” she hedges because why the hell not? There’s no guarantee he’ll even remember this in the morning.

“Yeah, why not?”

Ygritte snorts. “You’re scared she’ll leave you anyways. I mean it’s understandable, sort of. You grew up knowing your father wanted nothing to do with you and your mum, and then your mum dies when you’re fourteen. You’ve had to do everything on your own. So letting someone else into your life, having them play a major part in your decisions and shit, yeah, that frightens you, Jon. You don’t want to go through all of that again.”

“Huh,” he says, studying her quietly. “When did you get so smart?” He flourishes his hands around, nearly knocking the pint off of the table.

“I’ve always been smarter than you,” Ygritte says, pulling the pint towards the centre just in case. “It’s not really hard to be smarter than you. You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

He laughs but there’s no real humour in it. “I miss her,” Jon says quietly, thumping his forehead down. “I miss her so fucking much, Ygritte. She’s… She’s Sansa.” He suddenly sits bolt upright, staring wide-eyed at her. “Oh. Oh. I shouldn’t say that to you, right? You’re my ex!”

“Jon, we dated when we were seventeen,” she laughs loudly. “I’m fairly sure I’m over you.”

“Right… of course,” he nods gravely. “Then yeah, I bloody miss her. It’s like… With her, everything finally made sense. You know? And I fucked it all up. She thinks I don’t trust her but she’s the only opinion that matters.”

“Fucking hell, Jon, then go tell her!” Ygritte snaps.

Okay, she is over him and she really doesn’t want to date Jon ever again but she can’t help the spark of irrational jealousy. She’s fine on her own, she really is, because she has a great job she loves, friends she loves and she’s independent. She likes being alone. But the fact she can’t ever imagine someone loving her as much as Jon loves Sansa kind of stings a little. It’s stupid and totally irrational because she’s awesome. Why wouldn’t someone love her? Right?

Jon nods and jumps to his feet, swaying and nearly toppling into the next table. Ygritte sighs, standing up too. “Okay, lover boy, maybe tomorrow. Let’s get you home to sleep this off first.”


Sansa is her best friend, the greatest person she knows, but holy shit is her friend also dense as a fucking log. It’s the only reason why she would willingly go out on a date when she’s still so clearly, pathetically in love with Jon. She’s not ready to move on – nor does Jeyne think she should because those two are the real deal – and this date is a supremely bad idea. But does she listen? No, of course Princess Sansa bloody Stark won’t listen to Jeyne.

It’s why she can justifiably march over to Jon’s flat and demand he go win her best friend back because four months is four months too bloody long for them to go without each other. It’s not that she’s worried Sansa’s going to have such an amazing date she’ll forget about Jon because that is laughable, but it’s the fact that Sansa is so desperate right now to feel anything that she would conceivably date someone to just forget how much she’s hurting.

The door peels open a couple seconds after Jeyne starts pounding on the frame. Jon is standing there in ratty sweats and a thin shirt with holes at the collar. He looks like a really handsome homeless man. “Jeyne?” he squints at her. “What – is Sansa okay?” His eyes suddenly widen and every muscle in his body tenses simultaneously like he’s readying himself to go to battle. Jeyne rolls her eyes. At least now she knows they’re both equally as pathetic as each other.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s healthy, ten toes, ten fingers,” Jeyne tells him and watches smugly as he visibly deflates.

“So what… um, what are you doing here?”

“Okay, so here’s the deal,” she begins quickly. “There’s no easy way to say this. Sansa’s going on a date. Tonight.”

Jon’s face wilts, dying right before her eyes, and it pains her so despairingly she reaches out to grab a hold of his hand. “Her heart’s not in it, Jon,” Jeyne assures him. “She still loves you. But you need to… You need to show her you still love her too.”

“Of course I still love her,” he replies forcefully. “But that wasn’t our problem. If she wants to… If this is what she needs then she should do it.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Jeyne throws her hands up in the air. “You’re both so dumb!”


“No, stop it, you are!” she shouts. “I’m so sick and tired of both of you pining away for each other instead of just talking like bloody adults. Put on some shoes and go out and fight for her. This cowardly thing you’re doing,” she gestures to his whole body, “is not you.”

Jon rubs his chin with one hand. “She deserves better than me.”

“Yeah, probably,” Jeyne bites out because she’s pissed off and he deserves that for being so obtuse. “But she chose you. All she needs is some indication that you still want her too.”

“Yeah… I, um… I have to go. It’s nice seeing you again, Jeyne.”

She’s going to kill him. She’s going to kill him then kill Sansa. She’s going to kill them both before they put her in an early grave.


The thing is Robb had a plan. It was a very intricate plan to get Jon and Sansa back together because over four months with those miserable sods was just beginning to grate on everyone’s nerves. He was going to invite them both to the Stark cabin in the Lake District and lock them in there together for a whole weekend. It was going to be super romantic and brilliant and then they’d both owe him for the rest of their lives. Their firstborn would be named Robb Junior. It was all going to be awesome.

So of course as most of Robb’s plans goes, it completely falls apart when he goes to visit Jon at the fire brigade station and he realises that not only is his best friend not alone but his baby sister is there with him. He thinks about ducking out but he’s also too curious for his own good at times.

“You’re okay,” Sansa breathes out and the relief on her face is so palpable Robb instinctively sighs with her even though he really has no idea what’s going on.

“What are you doing here?” Jon’s voice is hesitant, wary even, but Robb’s known the man since he was five years old and his best friend is practically bursting with being able to see her again.

“Edd texted me. He…” Her voice breaks and she muffles a sob behind her palm. Jon’s instantly at her side, gripping her shoulders, as the tears rush down from her face. “He said you were in the hospital. That you got hurt in a house fire.”

Understanding rushes over both Jon and him. His best friend smiles softly. “I’m okay, Sans. Look at me, I’m here. It wasn’t anything. They just wanted to check me over but I only have a couple bruised ribs. Nothing serious.”

She nods and then without warning, she punches him in the shoulder. Even Robb has to wince from where he’s standing. “You asshole!”

“What?” Jon looks affronted and he steps back instinctively from his raging sister. Robb’s a little proud of her.

Four months, Jon,” she yells at him. “I haven’t seen you in four months and it takes your coworker texting me that you’re in the hospital to bring us together? Do you know how stupid that is?”

“Yeah,” Jon mumbles, looking at the ground.

“Yeah,” Sansa repeats, the anger suddenly leaving her, and now she just looks young and vulnerable. Like when she was a gangly ten-year-old and crashed her bike and Robb had to carry her home. He had been so worried then, every whimper of pain a piercing stab into his own body, and he feels that way now. But he can’t carry her pain now any more than he could then.

“I should – I’ll leave you alone then.” Sansa turns to leave but Jon immediately grabs her wrist and pulls her back.

“Don’t. Sans, please,” he says softly, almost too softly for Robb to hear. “I can’t do this anymore. I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Sansa isn’t looking at him and she doesn’t say anything.

“I’m sorry. You were right. I did push you away. As soon as I found out they were going to charge me with assault, I should’ve come to you. You shouldn’t have had to find out from Petyr to begin with. But even though I knew they had no evidence against me, I just didn’t want you to see me like that… It’s hard for me to let people in,” Jon admits, his hand still wrapped around Sansa’s wrist. “But it’s harder to not be with you.”

“We can’t do this if you don’t trust me, Jon.”

He tugs her again so she has to look at him. “I do trust you. I always have. I just didn’t trust myself not to screw it up.”

His sister laughs a little. “You’re a grumpy idiot.”

“I know that,” Jon laughs too. “Robb tells me everyday.”

Robb smiles because that’s true. He totally does. Who else would if not for him?

The silence stretches on for a long while as the two stand there staring at each other. “I missed you too,” Sansa eventually says. “But I can’t do this if you’re not sure, Jon. I can’t go through all of this again. You broke my heart.”

“I know, I know.” Jon rushes forward so he’s cradling her face in his hands. “And I’m in this completely. I want this. I want you. Sans, you have to know you’re it for me.”

“Yeah?” she asks, the insecurity so audible there Robb has to bite his tongue to keep from jumping in to rally for his sister. But as Jon rests his forehead against hers, Robb realises he doesn’t need to.

“Yeah,” Jon answers. “There’s never been anyone else.”

“So we’re doing this again?”

“If you’ll have me,” he says, pulling back to look at her. She smiles and it’s this inexplicable brightness that makes her seem so breathtakingly ephemeral Robb is a little floored by this side of his sister. Jon kisses her then, at first slow and sweet, but that soon gives out to something more desperate and needy, with hands carding and tugging through hair and pulling at clothes. Robb immediately turns around because like hell is he going to stand there and watch his best friend and his baby sister fuck right there on the floor. For his very delicate sensibilities, both his sisters are still virgins and Robb would like to continue to believe that for the foreseeable future.

Before he completely exits the station though, he hears Sansa one last time.

“You’re it for me too.”

so if u remember my post from a week or two ago u probably also know that my design is Pretty Far from what that gem actually looks like so, dragonfly lazuli is now Mine her names lazulite and she has an agate pal 

(please note i have not seen the episodes yet, i am watching them when they air so please keep spoilers off this post and out of my inbox. thank you!)