oh my god snow

baz: *eats*

simon: oH mY gOd he is teSTIng the foOD he’s goiNG tO poiSon mE wiTH

baz: *doing homework in the corner of the room*

simon: hE wrote pages about hOw He’S GonNA kiLL mE what iS hIS pLaN

baz: *sleeps*

simon: oH mY gOD whAt hE is smiliNG iN hIS sleEP he iS prOBAbLy drEaming oF killiNg mE

baz: *breathes*

simon: whAT tHe fUck iT iS oFfICIaL he iS goINg tO atTack mE soO000N


“(Y/N)?” Loki knocked on your door.

“Yeah?” You answered. He walked in gracefully (as usual) and sat beside you on your bed.

“The Avengers tell me that you are sad because it isn’t snowing.” He looked into your eyes searching for the answer.

“Yeah.” You giggled softly, it was true, it hadn’t snowed where you are and you craved it.

“Why don’t you just make it snow?” He furrowed his brows, clearly confused.

“Because it’s a naturally occuring thing that can’t just be made.” You were now the confused one.

He simply raised his hands and looked up, causing you to look to your ceiling, where snow now fell from.

“Oh my God! Loki! How did you do that?” You laughed as you jumped up attempting to catch the falling snow.



Jon was not afraid of death, but he did not want to die like that, trussed and bound and beheaded like a common brigand. If he must perish, let it be with a sword in his hand, fighting his father’s killers.