Every now and then Baz will look at me with this expression that I’ve come to know as his plotting face. His eyes will narrow just slightly, and his chin will tilt up just a little, and there’ll be a tiny crease between his eyebrows, and this cloudy look in his eyes, like he’s deep in thought even while he looks straight at me.
Like I said. Plotting face.
Sometimes I catch him watching me in class with the plotting face. On those days he usually ends up picking a fight with me up in our room. Probably to throw me off my guard. I’ve seen him give me the plotting face while I’m carelessly shoving down food in the dining hall, as though he’ll find some way to use my awful table manners against me. (Maybe poison.) That day that he forged the note from Agatha and I came back in the early morning shivering, cheeks red from the cold and hair dusted with snow, he blatantly stared across the room with his plotting face.
‘Maybe that’s just his face,’ Penny says. ‘He has resting plotting face.’
‘If he has resting plotting face, it’s because he’s always plotting,’ I say.
I’ve learned to recognise the plotting face. I never know what he’s up to, so he’s always a few steps ahead, but at least this way I can know when he’s up to something. (Which is pretty much always.)
And the BIGGEST shout-out to my support and beta, @baz-n-simon (:
UPDATE: The amazing @dancingwdinosaurs has created a wonderful piece of art inspired by this fic! Go check it and follow her and show her all the amazing love she deserves!
Baz is a sharp bloke, and I don’t mean because of his fangs. He’s smart and studious, values his education, and takes classes at Uni every weekday. He comes over most days, but only after he studies, and he only stays the night when he doesn’t have class the next morning. Which is why I think it’s strange that this morning, a Tuesday, I wake up to find him sleeping peacefully next to me.
“Baz,” I say, rather loudly. I nudge him in the arm, and his skin feels like icicles.
He doesn’t move. If I were anyone else, I would think that he’s dead. Which, I guess, he is. Dead, I mean. Or undead. Or both.
“Baz,” I say again, quieter. “Wake up.” I push him on his shoulder this time. More icicles.
“Hn…” He stirs and groans, but doesn’t open his eyes. “Wha’s it, Simon?”
Baz’s voice in the morning is always deep and raspy, and he calls me Simon instead of Snow. It was like this even when we were at Watford. And I realize that it’s always been something that I liked.
“Don’t you have class, Baz?” I ask, softer than before.
He peeks one eye open, but immediately scrunches it closed it when the sunlight hits him, and he pulls the blanket over his head.
He rolls over to face me and pulls the blanket down just below his eyes.
“I said, I’m skipping.” And then he pulls the blanket right back up again.
I smile. Baz is also very grumpy in the morning, but less like a bridge troll and more like a five-year old child pouting.
“What about your classes?” I try to pull the blanket away from his face, but he holds onto it. “Don’t you have a test today? Won’t you fail?”
He snorts and pulls part of the blanket away from his face, only leaving one eye covered. “I never fail.”
I laugh. “You look like a pirate.”
He smiles briefly, then frowns, and pulls the blanket back over his face again. “I just want to go back to sleep, Snow.”
I roll my eyes and swing my legs off the bed. When I start to get up, I’m startled briefly by Baz’s icy grip around my wrist.
“Where are you going?” His eyes are peeking out from the blanket again.
“You said you wanted to sleep?”
He lets go of my wrist and pats the spot on the bed where I was laying. “Stay.”
I raise an eyebrow at him. “Why?”
He pats the bed again. “Let’s stay in bed for a few more hours.”
I grin. “The Baz Pitch? Wanting to cuddle?”
Baz furrows his eyebrows and hides his face again. “Nevermind,” he says grumpily, pushing his icy hand at my arm. “Go away.”
I laugh and grab his hand. It’s soft, even with his cold skin.
“I’m going to find a snack,” I say. “And then I’ll come back to bed.”
Baz just groans and rolls over.
When I come back from the kitchen, Baz is already asleep again. The curtains are closed, and his head is peeking out from the blanket. And he’s hogging the entire thing.
I crawl across the bed next to him. I try tugging part of the blanket away, but Baz has a death grip.
“Baz.” I touch his arm gently. “Will you let go of the blanket?”
He shifts slightly and mumbles. “…when I get my cuddles, Snow.”
So like a nerd I headed straight for the Rito village for advancing the main story of the game…they’re my favorite Zelda race (BIRD PEOPLE! WINGS!!), and I love the outfit you can buy there, it’s neat and viking-esque and cute!! ;v; I couldn’t decide which color cast I liked better though, so here’s both.
I spent all this time goofing off in the wild, I just now finished my first “Divine Beast” dungeon…it was amazing, and I’m glad to see the story side of this game certainly does not disappoint! :’D
the first two seasons of downton abbey are perfectly preserved in your memory
and then after that
it’s this vague jumble of indistinct guest stars and weird lackluster haps and a general sense of “?!?!?!??!” that you’re not quite sure actually occurred because you might as well have just made it up in a fever dream
Request - Reader is one of Ned’s ward’s is secretly in love with Jon but doesn’t know that Robb, Jon and Theon are all fawning over her.
Pairing - Jon Snow X Female Reader
Wordcount - 5.431
Warnings - Normal Game of Thrones type scenarios.
A/N - I could do a part two to this
Ned Stark had always been a very kind and gentle man. On a particularly rough stormy night where the wind was so powerful and people struggled to walk through it, Ned was just returning home from a particularly long travel to a place where the disputes had turned from aggressive confrontation to bloody and gruesome battles, Ned had been instructed by King Robert to dissolve the quarrel and quickly, when he had heard the wails of a baby. Ned suddenly became more alert to his surroundings. As he dismounted his horse, he began to search for the cause for the sound. Ned soon located the sound to find the small baby wrapped very scarcely in a couple of woven blankets. How could anyone leave a baby like this? Ned thought as he scooped the baby into his arms, holding it close to himself in an attempt, to share his warmth. Ned mounted his horse and continued the rest of his short journey home, praying to the old God’s that the baby would survive the cold until he could reach the warmth of the castle. The God’s have blessed this child, Ned thought as he entered his chambers where his wife laid waiting for him, wrapped in warm furs.
“Ned is that another one of your bastard children that you insist on tormenting me with.” Catelyn snapped at her husband as she pushed the furs away from her body, whether it was to inspect the child further or to injure Ned, he couldn’t be quite sure.
“Relax my love, this baby is not mine, I found the baby nearby abandoned in the snow. I couldn’t leave it there to suffer and die. The baby is strong, near death and still made it all the way here.” Ned laid the baby down on the furs, it’s skin with a blue tint. Yet as cold as the baby was, it was still curious looking around the room at the strange people. Catelyn, got out of bed, walking over to the baby, the baby turned out to be a little girl, with bright Y/C/E, Catelyn’s gaze melted at the sight. She had always wanted a girl, there was no doubt that Ned and herself would have more children, yet Catelyn was not going to give up the opportunity to have a little girl sooner.
“She certainly is strong, why don’t we take her in as a ward? Let’s call her Y/N, I’ve always thought it was a beautiful name.” Catelyn, picked up the newly named little girl, holding her tightly to her chest.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my love. Y/N it is”
This is incomplete! Please add to this by messaging me, commenting, or reblogging.
It’s interesting that the hole in Cullen’s ceiling never gets fixed. According to World of Thedas, Cullen is claustrophobic as a result of the trauma he experienced when he was younger. I think it was probably hard to convince him to sleep inside at all - he probably wanted to stay in a tent with the rest of his men. At least with the hole in the ceiling he gets constant fresh air and a view of the sky. Plus it’s not right over his bed so, you know, he won’t get rained or snowed on all the time.
I’m almost positive that this is Cassandra’s little room. There’s only a bedroll, but it’s above the armoury, there’s a stack of books on the little table, and there’s a one-handed sword lying on the bench.
This is the smaller of the two bedrooms above the garden. It just has a Dorian vibe to it, and it’s fairly close to his alcove in the library where he spends most of his time. There are lots of books lying around haphazardly.
The larger and more stately of the two bedrooms above the garden, this is also the one closest to Vivienne’s usual spot on the upper balcony. It’s very well kept and has expensive decorations.
Solas is accustomed to sleeping in strange places after his many years of experience as a fade walker. Maybe he sleeps up on the scaffolding for some privacy? Or just curls up on the couch?
Ah, Blackwall. A true man’s man. Here we’ve got some pallets with furs spread across them, and some hay bales for a pillow. This is in the stable loft.
Fairly obvious, Sera sleeps in her tavern room.
Does Cole sleep? Has this ever been established??
The Iron Bull’s room is pretty funny. There’s an axe stuck to the base of the bed, a bottle of wine under the pillow, a pie under the bed, and tons more food and booze scattered around.
I’ve been laying on the couch for about an hour, staring at the pile of Baz’s books that are still sitting on top of the bookshelf. I keep thinking about my conversation with Penny, wondering over and over if I’m supposed to be worried about Baz leaving his stuff here. I mean, I really haven’t thought about it before. Baz has been leaving his stuff here for months. He has his ridiculous posh soaps placed randomly all over my shower and a toothbrush that he keeps on the bathroom sink. There’s a pair of his shoes sitting out by my wardrobe and at least three of his shirts and a pair of trousers hanging over my laundry hamper. And two other places where he has books laying out that Penny hasn’t noticed yet.
I sit up and walk over to the bookshelf. I pick up the top book from the pile and stare at it. I can’t come up with a single reason why I should be bothered by this. When we lived together at Watford, I often got worked up over the fact that Baz hid almost all of his belongings. It was never that I wanted to snoop through them; his side of the room just always felt so empty and lonely without anything in it. A constant reminder that he never wanted to be in that room in the first place.
“Simon, have you noticed how Baz has so much stuff here?”
I smile and place the book down.
I walk into my bedroom, over to the wardrobe. It has four large drawers, and I open the top two and start pulling out all my clothes. Then I open the bottom two and shove the clothes into them, not bothering to organize any of it (the top drawers weren’t organized either.) I grab Baz’s shoes off the floor, then walk over to my closet. I only have one pair of shoes on the floor, but I push them over anyway and put Baz’s shoes there. I then notice that Baz left his coat laying on my bed, so I put it on a hanger in the closet.
I then walk into the bathroom and immediately put his toothbrush in the holder. I’m not sure why he never put it in there before, but then I remember that I wouldn’t even own a holder if it wasn’t for Penny buying me one. “Ew, Simon! You can’t just leave your toothbrush on the sink. It will collect bacteria!” I just rolled my eyes, but she bought me one anyway.
I pull my phone out of my (Baz’s) jeans, and I realize that Baz will probably be on his way over soon, so I decide to shower. During my shower, I rearrange Baz’s soaps so they’re not just placed wherever there’s an empty space. Now they have their own corner. When I step out of the shower, I grab the nearest towel from the back of the door, and I realize that it’s mine, but it smells like Baz. I look at the other towel, which is also mine, but it’s the one I normally use instead of this one. And I smile. Because even though Baz keeps so much of his stuff here, he still borrowed something of mine.
I put Baz’s jeans back on but dump the rest of my clothes in the hamper. I grab a shirt from my wardrobe, then walk back into the living room over to the bookshelf. I pick up the top book again and smile at it.
“I didn’t realize Sarah Dessen made you so happy, Snow.”
I turn around quickly, almost dropping the book in the process, and I see Baz sitting at the kitchen table, sipping tea out of his mug.
“Baz,” I say. ‘I- I didn’t realize you were here.”
He arches an eyebrow at me, then sits his mug down and walks into the living room toward me.
“Wait,” I say. “How did you get in? I have forgot I have your key.”
Baz stops in front of me and smirks. “I used my vampire abilities to walk through walls.”
I roll my eyes.
“Magick, of course, Snow.”
“Baz, I told you not to use magick outside the flat.”
Baz grins at me. He runs his fingers through my hair, then leans in and lingers his lips along mine. “Someone should stop stealing my key then.”
I smile. “Fair point.”
“So,” he says, leaning back a bit. “What are you doing with my books?” He pokes at the book in my hand, then looks over towards the shelf.
“Oh!” I turn around and move around a few stacks of paper around on the shelf. Then I take the books and place them in the empty space. “I was making room for them.”
Baz cocks an eyebrow at me but doesn’t say anything. Instead he walks over to the loveseat and grabs a book off the side table, then reaches under the sofa and pulls a book out from there. He walks back over and hands them to me.
“Can you find a place for these, too?”
I nod and shove the books onto the shelf beside the others.
“Snow,” Baz says. He slides his hand into the front pocket of my jeans. “Are these mine?”
I grin at him sheepishly and rub the back of my head. “Uh, maybe? I need to do laundry.”
He snorts and shakes his head. “Me too. Come on.”
We walk into my room, and I stop at the wardrobe. “Look, Baz,” I say. I pull open the top two empty drawers.
He arches his brow at me, then furrows both of them in confusion.
“What am I looking at?”
“These empty drawers.”
“Are you trying to tell me that you don’t have any clean clothes left?”
I laugh and shake my head. “No, Baz,” I say. “These are for you. For your clothes that you keep over here.”
Baz’s eyes go wide briefly, but then a slight grin forms across his lips, and he runs his hand through my hair again.
I smile at him. “By the way, I’m buying you a towel.”