stand tall and proud

the-jade-goblin  asked:

Ok I just read your post about the bullshit you had to experience in school because of your disability and honestly??? You're my freaking hero. You're a damn legend and the fact that you're still standing tall and proud after all that is just so inspiring and amazing I love you

Omg you’re sweet. Thanks so much. This post is going to turn into a PSA LOL

It’s funny because it still happens every damn day. Like I can always name at least one instance of someone being a prick to me over my disability, and all you can really do is make a decision.

Which is more important to you? You, or how they see you? I’m not asking people to like me. I’m asking them not to be giant fucking dicks. They don’t have to like me to help me, to show they have character. I’m asking them to have integrity, and when you put someone in that kind of situation, frame it like that for them? They will almost always either do the thing or give you a clear picture of them (which really helps you to keep your confidence).

Let me see if I can explain it in a way that makes sense.

Often when dealing with a physical impairment, particularly one that other people don’t notice, is that you will get bullshit. You often have to find ways of building yourself up, prevent yourself from internalize the bullshit. So there are usually two ways of doing this, either you learn how to effectively handle people and frustration and build mantras that sort of get you to remember that you are not lesser than anyone, or you get angry.

Anger is effective, and plenty of disabled people use it, but it backfires, because while it makes fighting easier, you very quickly build yourself into a kind of prison you can’t get out of.

So you have to learn how to turn every situation into a learning experience for them and you. you have to become a more effective communicator, you have to make up little quick fire speeches about your condition so that people can be managed. You have to learn how to ask for things, when to get forceful, when to get out the attitude. How to remind yourself that you are a person, and that your disability is also turning you into someone who is strong, independent, capable, communicative, knowledgeable. Your disability is giving you the tools you need to be an amazing person. And when you, this amazing person, confront an asshole, it’s important to keep that perspective.

They’re not stooping to your level to do you a favor. You’re on a level so high above them you’re asking them to climb, and that’s not something everyone can do. I mean they can’t help it if they’re just weak or stupid. A person could even say that these normal people are “handicapped”. Being a giant dick is easier.

Every time you hit a wall, every time someone bullies, mocks, or refuses to help you, you need to be able to remove yourself and flip the perspective. That asshole who told you you were lazy…they just showed you what kind of person they are. That person who made fun of you…their psychology is feeble. That bastard who thinks you need to be educated about your own condition, who has a list of things you should eat and exercises you should do to cure yourself…they’ve just handed you everything you need to tell them off.

Confidence isn’t hard so long as:

1. You know your condition inside and out (do your research about your body and be proactive.) if your condition is idiopathic (like mine) then know everything that you can about potential causes

2. You learn how to say no. Don’t say “if you don’t mind” or similar ways of avoiding questions. Don’t let them think they are allowed to control the conversation. Say simply and firmly “I would rather not talk about my condition to you Can you please just compensate in this way?” For example, I paid for a walking tour of Italy. I went. I told the tour guide that I have a visual impairment. It doesn’t need to be addressed except that you can’t just walk away without saying something. If you move the tour on, please be sure you still have me when you arrive at the next destination. She wanted me to tell her everything. I simply said “I spend a lot of my day explaining my condition to complete strangers who think they’re entitled to know about my body. I’d prefer not to talk about it in this kind of setting.” And she and the group immediately felt as if they were being the invasive assholes they were actually being. They apologized and no one asked me a single fucking thing about it for the next week, except to ask me if I needed help with anything. I was absolutely friendly and civil, and no one behaved toward me as if my bid for autonomy was offensive to them.

3. You learn how to think about yourself and your “disability”. Remember that you may have a few limitations, but what you gain from those, in terms of knowledge, integrity, character, are invaluable. So no matter how frustrating it is to not be able to do the things you want, keep thinking of this as a chance for you to be better. It’s not a test. There’s no one who is grading this, and sometimes you’ll fuck up. It’s a process. You have to see it that way. A lot of people will think that by saying this, I’m somehow giving thought tools like, how to trick yourself into believing you’re valid. No. You are valid, but your mind isn’t letting you believe it because your mind is being attacked from a million sides and is firing back with all the stress hormones you can imagine.

I agreed to be a test subject for a group of grad students. They were measuring the responses to stress of disabled people. Disabled people, on any given day, produce way more stress hormones than a normal person. Makes us more prone to secondary illness, fatigue, cancer, chronic pain (because it is cyclical and once started cannot be stopped. Stress hormones trigger it). In one of my posts I talked about how having a disability isn’t just the actual impairment, but also the other shit that comes with it like PTSD and stress management. When under that kind of stress chronically, it can be impossible to see yourself clearly. It can even lead to clinical depression. You need to find ways to convince yourself NOT OF LIES, but of the truth.

You are not lesser. You are different. This difference makes it difficult to deal with the world of the other people, but it makes you better at seeing facets they cannot. Find ways to convince yourself of that truth, and the stress will dissipate. It will be managed more effectively.

4. You know how to navigate. If you have a mobility issue, learn those elevators. If you have a difficulty with navigating, research and find the strategies that work for others. Should you have to learn clever ways to hack the world? No. But are you worse for learning them? No. When I was in college, I did a year abroad. My mom was fucking white knuckling her life right, because if I kept being independent, I’d either get hurt or I wouldn’t need her anymore. But like, when I got there, I realized they’d segregated the disabled people in dorms where they were like, clumped together. I had a few hall-mates who were blind. I mean one had only light/shadow, one had no eyes. I was partially sighted so I had a foot in each world.

Who do you think the fully blind kids wanted guiding them around school or shopping? It wasn’t a fully sighted person. It was me. Why? Because I knew exactly how to give auditory clues, how to lead them, how to get around. If I couldn’t see something, I’d ask for help, and they knew I could do that too. I learned a ton about my own thinking of my disability in that time. I was amazed by how capable they were with so much more extensive blindness. I learned that I was really throwing myself a pity party, not learning how to think. They taught me how to see past that stress and just build my strengths. How to feel no depression whatsoever about learning extra information to keep myself safe. I’d do it for them in a heartbeat, so why couldn’t I do it for me?

It was an emotional barricade. It prevented me from traveling and doing things because of fear. So I broke it down and rethought it and memorized those step counts, those elevator maps, those short cuts, those tricks. I just fucking did it. And I felt better about my capabilities than ever before.

5. You learn to feel comfortable defending yourself. I don’t mean necessarily physically (but that’s also a good idea). I mean verbally. You need to feel justified in speaking up. That can be the most difficult thing, because many people with chronic illness or disability feel a sense of shame or responsibility for their condition. You may have some measure of responsibility, but you’re not asking people to forgive you your sins. You’re asking them to not be giant dicks, remember? So you were driving the car that got in the crash that put you in that chair. So fucking what? That fact HAS NO BEARING upon how people should behave. I mean really. No matter how or why or what is “wrong” with your body, this doesn’t excuse people from being giant fucking dicks! This is about how they behave toward someone who is disabled whom they SONT KNOW! They don’t get to be an asshole. They don’t get to pass a value judgment on your body.

You are your only advocate. You’re the one who knows it best. You need to be able to call bullshit and stand up to bullies.

I told the story about the guy whose dog attacked my friend’s guide dog. And that even though he was a full grown man, and those people around us were strangers, I called them out. That was easy to do, because I was defending my friend, but you have to be willing to do that for your own disability too, like the time the guy got in my face and got physical with me over my guide dog.

Take a self defense class if only to learn how to scream and punch. Get your voice out. Practice that until you feel no more embarrassment. Then refine that voice to match your own self-advocacy.

Anyway, sorry that turned into a lecture! I didn’t mean it to, it’s just that I want people to feel confident being what they are.

Thanks for the shout out.

2

Because of my anxiety lately, I thought it would be therapeutic to challenge myself to write a journal entry every day this week. Reading back on my week’s entries, I think self-doubt and regret have become my top arch enemies. Sometimes it’s not always easy believing that everything happens for a reason. This week has been a lot of self-reflection and trying not to be so hard on myself for things out of my control. Breathe, reflect, and try to do better.

You’ll never know just where you’ve been, dear, ‘till you get to where you are. When the clock’s run out, the stars align, and the lost are found, will you stand up tall and proud?- “Nothing Left To Lose” by FIELDS

The Signs as Flowers
  • Aries: Allium. Aries stand tall and proud, they're generally pretty content with themselves. Although they are not conceited, so they give off good vibes.
  • Taurus: Leadwort. They are fragile, but lovely people. It may take time for them to open up, but once they do, you'll be happy you stayed around to see it happen.
  • Gemini: Yellow Loosestrife. Full of life, vibrant, and exciting. They don't like any lack of attention - they'll do anything to keep the spotlight on them.
  • Cancer: Trillium. They are great friends and amazing, funny people. They can be hard to tend to, though - as they are very emotional and require a lot of support.
  • Leo: Shooting Star. Leo's are beautiful and bright people. They give off positivity and they like making people happy, and they don't like being the center of attention all the time, but they do enjoy the spotlight every now and then.
  • Virgo: Scarlet Sage. They're easy-going and good people, you'd be smart to befriend a Virgo. They get along with pretty much everyone.
  • Libra: Mazus. A Libra is usually a good person to keep around. They funny and personable, but if you don't keep an eye on them, they can easily leave and move on once they get bored.
  • Scorpio: Malva. They're lovely and fun, and everyone seems to know them. Not many close friends, but they have tons of acquaintances.
  • Sagittarius: Heliotrope. Small and cute, friendly and funny. But don't hurt them, or do them wrong. They're easily broken.
  • Capricorn: Gomphrena. Capricorns are nice and good people, and they low drama so they're easy to deal with. Once you're friends with a Capricorn, you'll never want to let that friendship die.
  • Aquarius: Marigold. Just as a Marigold is a quick fix to making a boring garden more colorful, an Aquarius will bring light and happiness into your life.
  • Pisces: Lantana. Pisces will immediately make you feel happy and warm. But once you get to know them, you'll find that some of their traits may be off putting. They can easily make you uncomfortable. Although they are great supporters.
Now or Never (m)

Pairing: fwb!Jimin x Reader
Genre: SMUT / angst 
Word Count: 26k magic
Summary: Road trips are always great. Especially, when spent with your playboy friend with benefits, whom you happen to be in love with.
Author’s Note: There’s literally all kinds of smut scenes in here omg lol But I’m SO HAPPY this is finally done. I’ve been working on this since December 31st, which sums up to like 9 months now? I’ve put so much effort into it, I hope you’ll like it. Enjoy!


“Let’s go to Vegas.”

The sentence still rings in your ears as you grab your black duffle bag, filled with all your belongings, and flee from your grand shared hotel suite. You disregard the fact that you haven’t bid him goodbye, but you’re sure he wouldn’t mind with the state he was in when you’ve seen him last.

Normally, you hate wearing sunglasses at night, your dim surroundings then usually leading to a confused jumble, but you pull them on nonetheless to exude the image of a cool girl. A cool girl is someone who takes life as it is, whose everyday life is an adventure and who doesn’t care about what others think or want.

You’ve nearly perfected that persona since you started seeing him, bent on changing your personality in ways to fit him perfectly. In the end, it still wasn’t enough to keep him hooked.

The shared nights in the motels you stayed at during your road trip with him, or the hot makeout sessions in his new Mustang are burnt into your memories like reminders of your failure. You have nowhere to go, but anywhere else is better than waiting for him to return to the suite with a stranger’s scent to him.

Keep reading

anonymous asked:

Do you think Neil has a binder (solely) for Andrew (and him) and one for his Foxes? What's inside the binder(s)? And ohh btw I just simply love your hc about the photos ((and i want more bec i love you and your hcs so much))

thanks bb <3

(neil only got the binders because he can’t cover every spare inch of the walls of their apartments in photos and articles - even he recognises that it would make it look like a serial stalker’s den. yes, andrew’s slightly judgmental expression did help him to reach that conclusion)

anyway, a list of some of the contents of neil’s post-graduation binders:

  • every photograph and article about kevin day neil can get his hands on - and there’s a lot of them. kevin holding trophies, kevin with his teams, kevin and thea in elegant clothes at big events, kevin smiling in a way that starts fake but gets more real as the years pass. kevin, alive. kevin, victorious. kevin with everything that riko tried to take from him. (enough of them that andrew made a dry comment or two about neil at least being predictable in his obsessions) (he’s quietly satisfied by the progression, too)
  • articles on robin, as both a fox and afterwards, concrete proof of neil’s work as a captain and andrew’s…something neil isn’t quite sure of sometimes, still. photos of her standing tall and proud, no trace of the mousey child who was nearly too afraid to be a fox
  • a collection of postcards addressed to them both in renee’s neat hand - pictures of mountain ranges and jungles and forests and deserts and cityscapes, ones that still make neil think about a different kind of travel than the frightened bolt he and his mother did across half the planet all those years ago with that vague kind of longing for something different
  • the entire photographic coverage of allison’s first fashion show (neil was there, which meant andrew was there. unsurprisingly, andrew ‘i wear designer clothes’ minyard found it more interesting than neil ‘the height of fashion is my partner’s oversized hoodie and these jeans that i’ve had for ten years’ josten)
  • a heavy piece of cream card inviting neil and andrew to the wedding of nicholas hemmick and erik klose (they went. neil had never seen nicky happier)
  • a picture of matt and neil hugging on the court after eschewing the more normal post-game handshake, wearing different colours and smiles
  • articles following dan’s career, from her first teams through to the foxes, including photos of her familiarly disapproving and determined and delighted expression on the sidelines or amongst her players
  • a collection of photos taken by various foxes at their ‘reunions’ - matt and dan curled in the same armchair, dan laughing because she’s getting squashed. renee braiding allison’s hair, her face all careful concentration, while allison sits on the floor between her knees drinking wine. aaron and kevin arguing, for old time’s sake. nicky and andrew making drinks while erik watches on in the background. all of them together in one mess, no one looking the right way, someone’s eyes closed, someone laughing a little bit too hard - perfect
  • a singular photo of jean moreau, helmet under his arm as he looks down at jeremy knox, the man he followed through the professional leagues post-college. he’s smiling in it, grey eyes crinkled in the corners. (neil can’t quite explain why he kept it - he doesn’t look at it much. when he does, he remembers)
  • a collection of articles about andrew on the court, from his first year pro all the way through. articles that still call him dangerous, but mean it in relation to the scoring percentages of his opposition. photos of him stretched out in goal, immortalised in brutal determination, beside total strangers calling him talented, even calling him revolutionary because of his style of play
  • more articles about andrew, off of the court - andrew as an icon, flat-faced beside LGBT campaigners for sports, speaking bluntly and truthfully and tactlessly at events as an invited guest. 
  • andrew, whose thesis on the treatment of mentally ill juveniles in the justice system was publicised by a psu student, who stared at everyone who questioned him about it in a way that unmistakably said i meant what i wrote
  • andrew, the survivor, who donates so much of his salary to a variety of causes, who did before anyone knew and who continued after it became public like he didn’t give a fuck because he didn’t
  • photos of the andrew that belong to neil, ones that make andrew curl his lip if neil pins them up - he and his brother standing shoulder to shoulder at the reception of aaron’s wedding, caught on camera by the official photographer in a very rare moment of understanding. him bathed in the light of a sunset on their balcony, all golden. he and neil together wearing red, white and blue in the locker room of a foreign stadium, ready to walk on the court for their country. him on the couch, asleep on his belly with one of the cats curled up in the cup of his lower back
  • (neil doesn’t mean to document his own history, only theirs - it happens by accident. there’s a photo of him beside kevin, medals around both of their necks at a world cup final. a photo him in the audience of an event where andrew is on the stage, photographed looking up from the crowd with a slight smile on his face included in an article on andrew. one from a reunion, taken from behind him and andrew with the sun turning them to silhouettes, including where their hands are curled together between them. a headshot of him from a where are they now-style article on the first ncaa champion fox team, scars on display and stare as bright and challenging as ever - still alive)

Summary: Sansa is sent as an emissary instead of Jon to meet with the Dragon Queen [Season 7 Spoilers - some of the dialogue is word for word from the script]

Dedicated to the lovely @qinaliel for the prompt!! 


“Then send an emissary!”

Jon paused, turned towards her and sighed. In the few short months since they’d been reunited, Sansa had come to learn his sigh’s and this one said that she had won. He was finally beginning to listen to her.

“Sansa,” he said slowly, coming to stand before her. They had been arguing in his solar for most of the afternoon. “Who will I send? You?”

Without hesitation, she nodded. “Yes.” She didn’t want to leave Winterfell, not after everything they’d done to get it back, but for Jon? For their home? She would face down Cersei if she had to. What was a Dragon Queen to that woman?

Immediately, Jon shook his head, stepping closer, until she could feel the heat radiating from his body. “No. No. I will not send you. She is a queen, only a king can get through to her.”

“You are more needed here than I am,” Sansa said. She reached for his wrist, circling her fingers delicately around it. “Jon, let me do this for you. I know women like her. And I am not merely anybody you’re sending. I am the Lady of Winterfell. She will listen to me.”

He twisted his hand from her grasp only to retrieve it back in his own. “I can’t protect you in the south.”

“No one can protect me anywhere,” she reminded him. “I will have Brienne with me. And Podrick. I will not be alone.”

Jon furrowed his brows. They both knew there was sense in her words, but she could see the struggle, the conflict warring in his mind. He was so noble, always so honourable, and it made her heart ache for him, fear and love mingling like the warmth of her breath fogging in the cold winter air.

He turned away from her, dropping down in his chair. Jon rubbed his face. “How can I plan a war when all I’ll be doing is worrying about you?”

Sansa let out a soft breath, a half-hearted laugh, as she came to kneel before him. “If it is any comfort to you, at least I will be far away from Littlefinger.”

His head snapped up at that and a small rueful smile broke over his face. “You heard then?”

“There is not much that happens in Winterfell that I don’t hear, Jon Snow,” Sansa grinned. “Although if you must wring Littlefinger’s neck, try not to do it in full view of the guards. You know they like to talk.”

He laughed. “I appreciate your counsel, my lady.”

Sansa made to stand up, but this time, Jon wrapped his hand around her wrist, the hard callouses grazing over her soft skin. It made her heartbeat spike unbiddenly. “You will be careful, won’t you? You will go, say our peace and come home?”

“I don’t want to be away from Winterfell more than I need to,” Sansa answered him, keeping his gaze, so he knew the words she didn’t wish to say out loud, that it was him she didn’t want to part with most.

Jon nodded once and let go. “Get some sleep, Sansa.”

That night, she tossed and turned, dreams of Winterfell lit on fire, blazing orange and red against the blinding white of winter. She dreamed of dragons screeching overhead as her people screamed for mercy, for reprieve from this slaughter, and then, just as she could feel the flames licking her own skin, she heard the keening howl of a wolf, as big as a mountain.

Jon, she whispered, reaching for him. Jon

Sansa woke with a start, sweat matting her hair to her forehead. She was warm, so much warmer than she had been in the night, but when she turned, she found the reason for the heat. Ghost lifted his head, blinked at her, something like concern shining in his eyes. She carded her fingers through his fur and pressed a soft kiss to his head. “You came to save me, didn’t you, boy?” His tongue lolled out from his mouth and Sansa laughed. “My hero.”

It was the day she would leave Winterfell. Sansa never thought that she would have to again after winning it back from Ramsay, but soon when the winds burned like fire and the sun refused to shine, her people, her Jon, would have to pick up their swords and fight, and Sansa needed to ensure they survived the Long Night. If this Dragon Queen could be reasoned with, then she would go and speak to her. Never mind that a Targaryen could never be trusted; never mind that this woman had stolen into their lands with a foreign army and three dragons. Sansa could understand the necessity of her alliance – although the feeling of trepidation did not ease, not when she broke fast sitting beside Jon as he watched her carefully and not when she sat with her maids to pack her belongings.

“I thought I would find you here.”

She didn’t turn, only wrapped her arms tighter around her body. He came up behind her. She could hear the crunching of his boots on the soft powdered ground.

“You don’t have to go.”

Sansa made a noise and he sighed in response.

“I wish you didn’t have to go,” he amended instead, his voice low, barely audible above the whistling wind. “Some days I think…” Jon paused and gave a soft chuckle. “I think, what if we had just run? Gone south and never looked back.”

“This is our home,” she murmured to him.

“Aye, and I will fight with my last breath for it,” he said firmly. “But maybe it keeps me sane to imagine what our lives would be like if we had run.”

Sansa turned then, eyes sweeping over his face. “And?”

“We would have a house,” Jon answered immediately. “Maybe by the sea.” He averted his gaze, staring up at the heart tree. “We’d be safe.”

She reached for his hand. “I’ll come home.”

“Promise me,” he said softly, squeezing her back.

“I promise, Jon.”

But promises were meant to be broken and Sansa would soon realise that the Dragon Queen would not be so easy to persuade.

“You stand in the presence of Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, rightful heir to the Iron Throne, rightful Queen of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Seven Kingdoms, the Mother of Dragons, the Khaleesi of the Great Grass Sea, The Unburnt, The Breaker of Chains,” the woman spoke.

Sansa refrained from grimacing. She had met another once who liked to shout his titles at anyone who would listen and he had been a monster. She desperately hoped this Daenerys was different.

“This is Sansa Stark of House Stark, eldest daughter of Eddard and Catelyn Stark, blood of the First Men, Lady of Winterfell and Sister to the King in the North, Jon Snow,” Brienne immediately replied, standing tall and proud, Podrick a step behind her.

“Forgive me. I never did receive a formal education, but I could have sworn the last King in the North was Torren Stark who bent the knee to my ancestor Aegon Targaryen in exchange for his life and the lives of the northmen. Torren Stark swore fealty to House Targaryen in perpetuity. But do I have my facts wrong?” Daenerys asked, poison hidden in her polite words, but Sansa had lived with lions. A dragon did not scare her.

“No, your grace,” Sansa answered, keeping her tone equally as polite. “You are well-versed in your history, but mayhaps you have forgotten that House Targaryen was overthrown during Robert’s Rebellion when your brother kidnapped my aunt and your father had my uncle and grandfather burned alive.” She paused to let this sink in. “House Stark has not been loyal to a Targaryen in many years.”

Daenerys’ lips twitched as her brows furrowed infinitesimally. “My father was an evil man. On behalf of House Targaryen I ask your forgiveness for the crimes he committed against your family. And I ask you not to judge a daughter by the sins of her father. Our two houses were allies for centuries. Those were the best centuries the kingdom’s ever known. Centuries of peace and prosperity with the Targaryens sitting on the Iron Throne and a Stark serving as Warden of the North. I am the last Targaryen, Sansa Stark. Honour the pledge your ancestor made to mine. Bend the knee and I will name your king Warden of the North. Together we will save this country from those who would destroy it.”

She couldn’t help think that peace was the farthest thing this woman wanted. A Targaryen’s house words were not ‘fire and blood’ for nothing, but she could hear Jon’s voice in her mind, reminding her of how important it was to ally with the Dragon Queen.

“I cannot judge you for your father’s crimes any more than you can hold me to my ancestor’s vows,” Sansa told her. “The North will not bend the knee, your grace.”

“Then why are you here?” Daenerys demanded, the politeness fading from her tone.

“Because we need each other,” she said easily. “To survive, House Stark and House Targaryen must form an alliance.”

The Dragon Queen turned, smirking at Tyrion. When Daenerys finally returned her gaze back onto Sansa, she caught her former husband’s apologetic glance. So it would seem even the Hand of the Queen was aware of her arrogance, but it was hardly surprising to Sansa. Those with power tended to believe they deserved it. The only king or queen Sansa had ever met who wished for less power was the one she had left behind, the one of whom she missed so achingly she would turn around right this moment and swim back to him if the survival of her people didn’t rest in her hands. With an inward sigh, Sansa steeled herself as the Dragon Queen spoke once more.

“Did you see three dragons flying overhead when you arrived?”

“I did.”

“And did you see the Dothraki, all of whom have sworn to kill for me?”

“Yes, your grace.” She fought the urge to roll her eyes.

“But still, I need your help?” Daenerys asked, looking amused and patronising, but Sansa had learned to weather all manners of insult, those personal and evasive, and those from arrogant rulers.

“Yes,” Sansa answered simply. “My…” she paused for a fraction of a second, “king has seen unspeakable horrors beyond the Wall and there is an army marching towards us at this very moment. If we do not band together, there will not be a kingdom for anyone to rule.”

“And what is this army you speak of?”

She sighed. It was impossible to imagine the kind of army that Jon spoke so fearfully of and yet she knew his words to be true. It didn’t, however, make convincing Daenerys Stormborn any easier. “The Army of the Dead.” Sansa straightened her shoulders. “I know how it may sound, but my king is no liar. If he says they are coming then it is true.”

“I have no reason to believe in a man who wishes to oppose me –”

“Jon does not wish to oppose you,” Sansa interjected. “He does not wish to sit on the Iron Throne, not now, not ever. Your grace, you are not grasping the severity of the situation. Cersei is a formidable foe, but the Dead will kill us all if we don’t work together.”

Daenerys let out a scoff. “You will have me place my trust in a man I have never met?”

“Do you trust your Hand?” Sansa asked, looking to Tyrion. “Because he will tell you that neither Jon nor I have any reason to lie to you. Nothing good comes from a Stark leaving the North, but I am here because it is necessary.”

Tyrion sighed. “Your grace, I trust Lady Sansa and I trust Jon Snow. They are honourable people.”

There’s a long pause that fills the room, so tangible Sansa could feel it crowding her, pushing up against the cloak she still wore. Daenerys stood up and began to descend down the stairs, eyes unwaveringly locked onto Sansa’s, but she refused to be intimidated by a woman not much older than her.

“I was born at Dragonstone. Not that I can remember it. We fled before Robert’s assassins could find us. Robert was your father’s best friend, no? I wonder if your father knew his best friend sent assassins to murder a baby girl in her crib. Not that it matters now of course. I spent my life in foreign lands. So many men have tried to kill me. I don’t remember all of their names. I have been sold like a brood mare. I have been chained and betrayed, raped and defiled,” she said, the emotions making her voice rise. It was the first time since they had arrived that Sansa saw something more than just pure arrogance. She saw defiance and strength, but if Daenerys thought she was the only woman to have ever been violated, she was mistaken. Cersei was defiant and she was strong, but she was as bad as the men who underestimated her, if not worse. Sansa won’t be swayed so easily by sad stories; she’s had her fair share.

“Do you know what kept me standing through all those years in exile?” The Dragon Queen paused, only a few feet away from Sansa now. “Faith. Not in any gods. Not in myths and legends. In myself. In Daenerys Targaryen. The world hadn’t seen a dragon in centuries until my children were born. The Dothraki hadn’t crossed the sea. Any sea. They did for me. I was born to rule the Seven Kingdoms. And I will.”

Brienne shifted behind her, but Sansa was not here to trade trauma for trauma. Her pain was her own and no one else’s, not even Jon knew the full extent of what she had gone through. She didn’t need to sink so low for this alliance, but she did need to get through to Daenerys somehow.

“The world is not a kind place for any woman,” Sansa said slowly, evenly, while observing the queen for a reaction. “For many men, we are no more than a womb for their seed to grow and that is if we’re lucky. But this war cares not if you are a man or a woman, Daenerys Stormborn. It will devour us all if we don’t act.”

“My lady,” Tyrion spoke up, his eyes were soft, kind and pleading. “I understand your brother may believe that he saw something beyond the Wall –”

“He did,” she reaffirmed.

“Yes, but you cannot expect us to halt hostilities and join him in fighting in the North,” he continued. “If Jon bends the knee, swears fealty to Daenerys, then we can defeat Cersei and take up arms together in your war.” Tyrion moved forward. “Sansa, you know what my sister is capable of. You know you will never be safe while she’s on the throne.”

“With respect, my lord,” Sansa said through gritted teeth. “I do not need reminding of what Cersei is capable of. As you said, I know far too well, but I also know when there is a far greater threat and that is the one in the North. You may believe me or you may not, but the Long Night is coming. Winter is here.”

“Then bend the knee,” Daenerys demanded once more. “Do it now and we can cease with this squabbling.”

“The North has suffered too long under southron rulers. We will not bend the knee,” she said confidently. “Jon will not bend the knee. The people have put their trust in his hands and he will lead them for as long as he can.”

“That’s fair. It’s also fair to point out that I’m the rightful queen of the Seven Kingdoms. By declaring himself King of the northern most kingdom, House Stark is in open rebellion,” she concluded, eyes narrowed.

That night, she dreamed of fire, bright and orange, flickering up the walls of Winterfell as screams pierced through the air. She could feel the heat on her skin and she wanted it to stop. She tried to remove her cloak but the heat persisted. Sansa opened her mouth to scream, to beg for mercy, for anything that could stop the pain running through her, but her voice would not work.

The thundering flap of wings had Sansa peering up into the ashen sky. There amidst the clouds, she saw two of the most fearsome creatures circling her home. Fire rained from their mouths, turning stone walls to pebbles and people to nothing more than dust. When Sansa could feel the skin peeling away from her bones, she felt it, looming great and big over her, its shadow turning day into night. Sansa moved, whirling around to face it, and immediately, she was struck, jaw gaping open, as she stared into the grey eyes of a pure white dragon. It looked back, sentient like it knew her, and flapped its large wings. The gust of air cooled the fire away and soothed the pain running through her body.

Sansa dropped to the ground and wrapped her arms around her legs. “Just kill me,” she whispered. “Kill me.” It bent its neck towards her like it was bowing, eyes cast down. Confused, Sansa shouted at it, angry and hysterical, “what do you want from me!”

Before it could respond, Sansa woke with a start, her chest pounding loudly in her ears, and the overwhelming feeling that washed through her was that she missed Jon. It was not the first time since arriving at Dragonstone that she thought this, but now knowing that Daenerys was holding them prisoner on this godsforsaken island, she missed him all the more. The thought of never seeing him again made her ache down to her very bones. She had to find a way back to him; she refused to let that moment at the gate be their last moment together.

“I should be going,” Jon said, touching a hand to her cheek. “It is not too late to change your mind.”

Sansa leaned into his touch, uncaring that Brienne, Podrick and Ser Davos were only a few feet away. “We cannot have this argument again, Jon. You’re king. The people need you here.”

“You would do just as well leading them,” he countered, thumb stroking the curve of her cheekbone. “I may be king, but you’re their lady. They love you. They trust you just as well as they trust me.”

“It’s better this way,” Sansa said with a small smile. “Smarter.”

Jon sighed. “I will not convince you otherwise, will I?”

“Have you ever?”

“No,” he said, chuckling softly. He kept his gaze on her, lingering, and drawing out the silence before he finally spoke again. “Be safe.” Without another word, Jon leaned forward to kiss her gently on the forehead, so familiar yet so different, as when he parted, he dropped his forehead to hers, allowing their breaths to swirl in between them. “I’ll miss you, Sansa.”

Tears pricked at the back of her eyes. She ran her hands up his chest to grip onto his furs. “I’ll miss you too.”

Sansa wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand as she stared out unseeingly towards the horizon. The wind blew gently, tossing her hair away from her face and neck, leaving a cool breeze to ease the heat of the south. The sound of footsteps announced his arrival.

“I came out here to brood over my failure to predict the Greyjoy attack, but I can hardly do that in the presence of my lady wife,” Tyrion said, that teasing lilt to his voice.

“I have been a prisoner many times, Lord Tyrion,” Sansa said coolly. “I have been kept against my will at the hands of your family, forced to swear my loyalty to the people who murdered my father, brother and mother. I have been kept and sold by Littlefinger to the Boltons where I was imprisoned in my own home.” Her chest rose up and down rapidly. “But I will not be a prisoner to your queen. Jon is my king and I will make it home to him.”

“Lady Sansa, you are not a prisoner. You are free to roam the beaches and –”

“Do not trifle with me, my lord,” Sansa turned to look at him. “Or have you forgotten how long I spent under your sister’s tutelage?” She pursed her lips tightly. “Your queen does not believe me. It is fair. I hardly believed Jon when he first told me and every rational thought in my mind is saying to look to Cersei. She is our biggest threat, but you don’t know Jon the way I do. Not as he is now.” She returned her gaze to the sea, imagining the man in question and what he must be doing in this moment. “He is a great king, a greater man than you and I ever thought possible in these hellish times, and if he says the Dead are coming, I suggest you heed his warning and act accordingly.”

“My lady, it is not a question of belief,” Tyrion said. “Daenerys could have sailed for Westeros long ago but she didn’t. Instead she stayed where she was and saved many people from horrible fates, some of whom are on this island with us right now. While you’re our guest here you might consider asking them what they think of the Mad King’s daughter. She protects people from monsters, just as you do. That’s why she came here. And she’s not about to head north to fight an enemy she’s never seen on a word of a man she doesn’t know after a single meeting. That’s not a reasonable thing to ask.”

Sansa smiled, though it was derived of humour. “You will forgive me if my faith in rulers who believe themselves entitled to a throne is lacking, Lord Tyrion. But I appreciate your advice and will consider your counsel with great thought. May I suggest you listen to mine as well?”

Feeling all at once exhausted and weary of this conversation, Sansa moved past her former husband and went in search of a quill and parchment. If she could not see Jon, she could write him. He’d need to know that Sansa wouldn’t be coming home for awhile yet, and that as long as she was alive, she’d find a way, not just to return to him but to convince the Dragon Queen to help one way or another. He had tasked her with an important mission and Sansa would not fail him.

What You Are According to Your MBTI Type

INTJ: You are the coldest shard of ice, but also the hottest flash of lightning. You are the sofest velvet in a rose petal, and also the sharpest thorns underneath. You’re the terrifying depth to the ocean, and yet you are also the sun twinkling on the waves. You may be the sultriest summer day, but often you choose to be the quiet coldness of a winter morning. You are the calmest logic and also the roil of blood boiling under your skin. Of all these things, INTJ, you are a Paradox.

ENTJ: You are a screaming crowd, the rush of adrenaline pushing you further. The words I will not give up, a business contract with all signatures in place. You are droplets of blood-red ink, and the glint of sunlight off a reflective glass building. You are the gory beauty of a sunset before a storm, the soft certainty of a plant blooming each year. You are a mountain threatening to crumble, and a young tree that refuses to snap in the wind. You, ENTJ, are the confounding fluidity of Strength.

INTP: You are the rapid clicking of a rubix cube under clever fingers, the glint of dark steel, the soft sigh of rain on concrete. You are the flash of unexpected rage, the sound of a chair scraping against the floor as it is pushed hastily back. You are the flipping pages of a textbook, and the squint of eyebrows while reading scrawled writing. It is no wonder that you love asking questions so much, INTP, for you yourself are a Question.

ENTP: You are the flash of an old camera as a photograph is taken. You are the tinest licks of flame in a fireplace, and also the devastating blaze in a forest at the tops of the trees. You are a bright red canvas, washed over with every shade imaginable. You are the blackness of a pupil, going ever deeper in. You are the grafitti I see on street walls as I walk home at night, and the glimmer of icicles on a cold morning. You are the snapping of scissors being suddenly closed, and the sound of ripping fabric as it is pulled apart. You are the irregular motion of fingers tapping against the wooden table. You are both pleasantly warm and dangerously hot, ENTP, because you are Flame incarnate.

INFJ: I see the quiet strength in a mountain side in you, and yet I also see the dangerous temptation of a cliff face. You are the smooth rustling of a stream past rocks, but somewhere you become the roaring power of a waterfall. You are pure white sand and the burning heat on your feet from the sun; I see the softness of vanilla and also the sharpness of peppercorn in you. You are the warmth of the sun on one’s back, and the burning blaze of a desert’s surface. You are power in reserve and power in extremes, you are a dam holding back an entire lake and also the cracks threatening the stone deep beneath the surface. You are mocked as the ‘unicorn’, INFJ, but you prove yourself as something much deeper as the Moment Before a Wave Breaks.

INFP: You are the silken tinkling of water in a cave, and you are the echo of a terrified voice lost somewhere far beyond. You are gentle like a sheet of new paper, yes, but you are the stinging pain of a thousand inflicted papercuts. You are the burst of a flower blooming fast-motion on a camera, and you are the wilted petals underneath. I see the blur of water colours on the white of a desk, and also a room with no visible end or beginning. You are the sudden smile that appears for no reason, and the ugliest frown appearing like a storm. You are early mornings and quiet whispers, but most of all, you are Changes.

ENFJ: You are a mirage; the image of a shallow pool with a thousand feet of water underneath. You are dirt lining the cracks in one’s hands, and the threatening pull of mud under one’s feet. You are the purest feeling of happiness, and you are a maze with level after level. You are a bright blue shirt flipping on a clothesline in the breeze, and you are the flick of a light illuminating a dark room. You go many places and love to see new things, and that is well, for you are an Adventure.

ENFP: You of all others are a perennial favourite. You are the favourite younger sibling in a family, you are the warmth of protection glowing in one’s chest. You are waking up late on a slow day, and you are the beat of a song that plays during work. You are a child skipping rope on the sidewalk, and the wonder of a scientist testing an Element. You are pens scattered on a table in every shade of the rainbow, and the hopeless scrubbing of an eraser over paper. You are notebooks sitting in a shelf unused and half-finished art projects left for a soon-due essay. You, ENFP, are the Glow of Praise.

ISTJ: You are the crisp of white sheets being put on a bed. You are pancakes on a china plate, and black shoes polished to a shine. You are hair in graceful waves, and the graciousness of a smile. You are the furrowing brow of brewing anger, and the sudden splash of cool water on overheated skin. You are the beep of a heart monitor, and the prick of a needle on your finger. I see the quiet, far reaches of the ocean’s surface in you, and the grey shadow of sharks swimming somewhere below. You are not so easily stereotyped as boring, ISTJ; for you are Deep Water, slow to move and full of changes underneath unseen by those on the shore.

ISFJ: You are the glint of a sword being drawn free, and the warm smell of leather. You are the glossiness of a horse’s back, but also the sudden kick of fear. You are tiny smiles and curling fingers; a garden full of colourful flowers. You are the unexpected sting of poison ivy under one’s feet, and the soothing balm of chapstick over cracked, bleeding lips. You are a train rushing forwards, carrying thousands of pounds of cargo. You are the steady thrum of a heartbeat, a yellow ribbon wrapped around a present. You are still water in a vase, and the sudden frustration of broken glass and spilled liquid on the floor. Well are you called a defendor, ISFJ, because you are a Strong Wall, full of the tiny cracks that come with humanity and yet standing strong for all those who need you.

ESTJ: You are the click of an old typewriter’s keys, the soothing hum of a printer completing its task. You are a smile showing teeth, and the biting nip of the cold outside. You are the comfortable feeling of coming home, and a suitcase lying, half-packed, on the floor. You are the beautiful sound of a violin playing, and you are the sobs it so often draws out. You are an army of baked goods resting on a kitchen counter, and the smile on a child’s face. You are the secret desire for untested things, and you are a kind email directed at someone who needs it most. You are always accomplishing things, ESTJ, for you are an accomplishment yourself. Finally, you are spinning in a desk chair unobserved, for you are the Sense of Satisfaction.  

ESFJ: You are the flick of long hair over shoulders. You are gift bags resting on the floor at a party, and the sparkling bubbles of champagne. You are the terrifying shriek of a hurricane and hands wrapped around a warm mug. You are striped colours on a wall and the ticking beat of a watch on one’s wrist. A lively tune on the piano, the blur of 3D movies without glasses. You are the feeling of wandering across a busy city at night, and shaking hands gripping each other. You are as delightful to some as you are strange to others, ESFJ: you are an Unexpected Surprise.

ISTP: You are bubbles rising in a beaker, a baseball slamming into a glove. You are the curl of lazy smoke, and the sheen of sunglasses in the daytime. You are the age-old familiarity of denim, and the crisp cleanness of a white t-shirt. You are a smooth voice making love to the microphone in your hand, and the faint rasp of a speaking voice afterwards. You are a comb moving through hair over and over again, and the yawn unrestricted by a covering hand in a classroom. You are narrowed eyes moments before a game, and the passionate sting of a sudden kiss to the mouth. You and your eagerness, ISTP, are the easy impatience of a Rumbling Engine, desperate to move.

ISFP: You are paint rubbed smudged on a nose, and freckles washed over cheeks. A whisper louder than any scream could be, steam rising from a cup of hot chocolate. You are the bright green of grass in the summertime, and the wilting curl as it shies away in the Autumn. You are a picture of two lovers hugging, their faces absolutely at peace. You are the tossing of a ship in a storm, and the glint of a seashell on damp sand. You are the trusting curl of a child’s hand in your own, and the flash of pain when one bites their tongue. You are Rafflesia arnoldii and Wolffia growing together in a field, some strange combination that manages to be beautiful. You, ISFP, are the Beat of a Dragonfly’s Wings, beautiful and fragile and quick to escape.

ESTP: You are a thousand screaming voices in a stadium, and also the shaking earth underneath. You are a building standing proud and tall, full of life and energy and bustling movement. You are a fist holding the ribbon attached to a medal, and the rumbling growl of a motorcycle’s engine. You are the sting of cold air in the lungs on an early morning, and sparks crackling off a bonfire. You are a tree in the woods, being hacked to the ground, and you are a weed growing rampant in an abandoned garden. You are a force to be reckoned with, ESTP, and a formidable one at that, for you are Determination.

ESFP: You are the twirl of a new dress in the mirror, and the shredding of fabric under a foot. You are a newly polished mirror and shards of a broken glass on the floor. You are the pettiness of envy and also the beauty of magnitude, the gloss over pictures in a magazine and the sound of feet moving on a dance floor. You are the excited shout of a new discovery, and the shattering loss of a loved one. I see the allure of a late night, and the glow of string lights in you, and the rapid beat of a lunar moth’s wings. It is easy to see why you have such quickness in everything, ESFP, for you are Movement.

yannaw  asked:

Soo this was going to be a scenario i was gonna write but i feel like you would know how to organize it better than I can lol. Where Y/N is currently giving Jimin a "helping hand" when Rapmon calls and either she keeps going while he's on the phone and he is struggling to hide the fact or she keeps going, while she is on the phone with him and Jimin tries to keep quiet but in the end Rapmon knows. Can it be funny but very smutty at the same time ? 😂 dirty talk and all that saucy stuff 😂

Of course I’m going for Jimin here because little shit fucked me up too much with Not Today 

Helping Hand:

Laying down on the bed, you look ahead at the television as your boyfriend walked back into the room moving to lay on the bed beside you. His body dripping wet as the towel hung low on his waist. He looked up at the ceiling breathing deeply as the steam from the bathroom roamed into the room panting both of your skin with light films of sweat. Your eyes continued to watch Jimin as you bit on your bottom lip before you looked back at the screen crossing your legs because you felt an urge to touch him but you told yourself to keep your hands at bay to yourself. Eyes twitching a bit you cleared you throat as you tried to spark up a conversation but nothing came out. His abs glistened with water, his damp hair, plump pink lips. His biceps tightened up and flexed before he looked at you with a boyish smile eyes dark.

“Something on your mind?” He asked you, letting his tongue flick out to lick his bottom lip and you growled looking off.

“Nothing in particular.” You lied looking at the wall next to you.

“Jagiiiiiii. Don’t lie to me, I can tell when something is on your mind.” He drawled letting his fingers dance up and down your bare thighs. Shuddering you bit on your bottom lip cursing because he made you weak. He was sinful and dammit you hated him. A pink cotton candy headed fool. “Yah!” He whined leaning forward to peck against your neck licking gently a little mark against your spot causing you to push him back.

“Aright, alright alright. I want to give you a hand job.” You mumbled out the last part slowly and shyly looking down at your hands.

“What?” Jimin asked you with a crooked smirk. He had heard you, and even in just those little words his cock managed to harden under the confines of the towel wrapped around his waist. But he wanted to hear you say it again. Just because he liked teasing you. “Baby speak up?” He asked again tapping your leg.

“I said I want to give you a hand job!” You shouted looking at him with burned red cheeks. He laughed at the anger trying to build up in your eyes because you were embarrassed. He shook his head leaning forward to brush his lips against yours and he nipped on your bottom lip pulling back.

“Do it then. Touch me baby. You know I like it when you do. And keep in mind last night you did leave me hanging.” Jimin frowned nuzzling your nose continuing to kiss your lips with his own plump ones until you were nodding with a slight sigh of resignation.

“Fine! I will touch you. Lay back so that I can take care of you, you little needy baby.” You mumbled softly watching him wink at you with a bright smile of victory. Jimin moved towards the headboard watching you with hooded eyes he bit on his bottom lip slowly letting the towel fall on the bed on either side of him. He spread his legs wide, his hardened shaft pressing against the lower pit of his stomach standing proud and tall waiting for your attention.

“Come on baby girl. Get a grip.” He teased and you wanted to face palm at the corn innuendo. He kept hurling dirty jokes at you as you crawled between his legs pressing them down against the mattress. Grabbing at his shaft just to shut him up, you watched him moan in pleasure rolling his head back against the headboard. Your tiny hand tried to fit all of his cock inside your palm moving slowly you jerked on his organ watching it move as he bucked his hips up. You loved how he moaned for you, his hand fisting at the sheets as he enjoyed your touch. He licked his lips again trying to take deep breaths but he always melted when you touched him, especially like this. How you stare at him, disheveled hair falling in your face, your body hunched and eyes concentrated on him. He saw how you looked at him with hunger, how your hand gripped harder onto him wanting to elicit more moans from him. It was too much and part of him wanted to push your head down but he would let you keep the pace you were going at. In a few minutes the room was filled with sinful moans from Jimin who was a submissive mess against the headboard panting and begging for more.

You watched him feeling your own stomach tighten and your pussy was beginning to dampen your panties with how much you wanted Jimin, it was something about how he reacted to you pleasuring him that made you always want to do it. Your hand moved a bit faster, your thumb pressed against his tip the precum oozing out. Jimin was breathless sliding down the headboard and the next sound you heard instead of a scream was his phone going off. Both of you froze and you looked at the source were the noise was coming from. Jimin frowned, he wasn’t going to answer it as it shut off. Looking down at you he wiggled his hips and you got the hint starting to move your hand again. Once again Jimin’s phone was going off causing you to stop as he growled. Picking up his phone his body was red and voice stern as he answered.

“Hello.” He said cryptically only for his demeanor to fall a bit. “H-hyung-ah!” Jimin almost moaned out on the phone glaring at you because your hand started to move again. Shrugging your shoulders, you mouthed ‘you wanted to get off, right?’ smiling sweetly as he glared at you.

“What are you doing?” Namjoon asked Jimin frowning at how light and airy his voice was because Jimin was acting weird.

“Mmmmmm, just enjoying this lovely view of this show.” Jimin admitted watching as your tongue darted out to lick around the tip of his shaft. He bit on his bottom lip, watching as your tongue danced up and down his shaft, taking quiet short breaths Jimin felt his back arch as his cock throbbed the phone almost slipping from his hand. He was trying not to respond much to Namjoon in fear that saying anything would make him moan and blow his cover. He was trying to pull you up by your head once your tongue started to play with his balls but you fought him licking and sucking at his sack only to have Jimin losing his shit.

“You don’t sound to good man.” Namjoon started as they went more into the conversation pressing the speaker button he sat the phone down letting Hoseok and Yoongi listen in onto the quiet line.

“Yeah.. Hyung, I feel a bit bothered.” Jimin harshly gritted his teeth.

“What’s wrong did you eat something bad?” Namjoon asked as his smirk grew wider trying not to laugh at the poor male on the other end of the phone.

“I have a s-stomach ache.” Jimin whimpered his face burning as he buried his head into the pillow pressing the phone down beside him he also turned Namjoon on speaker, one hand gripping at the back of your head Jimin started to thrust his hips up, moaning silently as your hand and mouth worked to bring him closer.

“You should take something for that. Those things don’t usually end to good. It’s like seeing white if you hold it in for too long.” Namjoon said wryly his dimples popping out on his plump cheeks.

“I don’t know- it’s hard to get it out.” Jimin frowned trying to choke you in punishment for what you were doing your fingers dancing along his balls, it had his stomach tighten up.

“You know, its ok to release it all Jimin. A boy your age, has nothing to be ashamed about. We all get stomach pains and we need help letting go of such things, which is why we have other partners to help us along the way. I think that what you’re doing is a step in the right direction.” Namjoon continued to talk on and on receiving a fry being thrown from Yoongi and a snarky remark from Hoseok as they looked around the little diner place they were in.

“You r-really think so hyung?” Jimin asked, his eyes dropping shut as he finally allowed you to pull back with a pop. Breathing heavily your hand continued to move faster on his wet shaft, your lips chapped, cheeks red and puffy your eyes hooded and spit was everywhere. It was sloppy and messy and perfect all at once.

“Yes, get rid of the stomach pains or you will be cranky and bitter. And it will hurt much more.” Namjoon choked on his soda, as a waiter walked by given them a look of indignation. Causing a round of laughter from the two males across from him.

Jimin nodded his head not responding back because he couldn’t. Taking your chance, you leaned down taking him back into your mouth willingly choking and gagging on his cock. It hit the back of your throat, and you swallowed around him your teeth gently grazing his shaft with your teeth along his veins, Jimin let out a loud cry of pleasure as he started to cum in your mouth. The white substance sliding down your throat and filing your wet cavern. You looked up at him started to swallow around his shaft licking him up trying to clean him. He panted against the sheets and a round of clapping was heard and so was cheering causing your eyes to widen as well as Jimin.

“Do you feel better now that you’ve busted a nut?” Namjoon asked as he chuckled deeply and other little chatter was heard in the background from the others. Jimin was so embarrassed he just lay there looking at the ceiling with a red face and part of you felt bad. Reaching for the phone you cleared your throat.

“I think you guys broke Jimin.. How did you know?” You asked part ashamed but not regretting anything.

“I think you meant to say you broke Jimin. Besides, how could we not know? Jimin is always energized on the phone, making little jokes or anything but you took one lick and he was melted.” Rap monster admitted shrugging.

“Well, I started to use my hand first and then he got really needed so I-“

“YAH HOW DARE YOU!” Jimin shouted grabbing the phone causing strings of snorts and laughter to be head through the phone. Jimin felt himself getting more fed up with you, part because of how true you were and another part because you were embarrassing him. Grabbing the phone, he pinned you down under him growling through the lines all playfulness gone. “Sorry hyung’s I’ll have to start this back up later. I have a problem to solve.” Hanging up he took out the battery from his phone pushing it off the bed and flipping you on your stomach with a dark deep laugh.

2

I’m a Hufflepuff, I’m a proud Hufflepuff. For far too long now Hufflepuff’s have been victimized. They call us boring, beige. So we’re the nice guys. But you know what? Do you know what I see in Hufflepuffs? I see loyalty. I see fierce friendship. We are hard working, we are compassionate. And at the end of the day, we’re going to do the right thing, and not because of the glory, but for the greater good. Because fuck it — sorry it’s naughty to swear — because that’s what Hufflepuff means. Be proud, stand tall.

This fic has been on my chest for days and I’m so glad that it’s finally done!

Anyway, this is based on @kaxpha‘s lost lance au and I was so excited to write this, the au has taken over my life no kidding. It also has a second part and you can find it here on @bleusarcelle‘s blog.

I’m very proud of how this came out(for now at least) :’)

I hope you’ll like it! <3


Keith hears the moment when Shiro takes in a shaky breath as the two of them and the rest of the guests watch Allura walks down the aisle. She stands tall and proud, a big smile on her face but when she meets Keith’s eyes for a few moments, he can see the storm of emotions that they hide.

He gives her an encouraging smile before her eyes move on to Shiro. The moments their gazes lock it’s like something shifts in the room: the mood, the quiet, the air. Keith isn’t sure what changes, but it feels like a relieved sigh. It feels like Allura is saying you’re here, like Shiro is agreeing iIm here, it feels like both of them are realizing we’re here and this is happening and i’ve never been more happy before.

Keep reading

Zach x Reader: Before You Leave (One Shot)

(A//N: This is by far one of my least favorite work but I’ve gone so far already so I decided to post it anyway just to get it out of my drafts. SO I HOPE YOU ENJOY THIS TRASH I CAME UP WITH AND BETTER CONTENT WILL ARRIVE SOON)

Plot: The one where you learned love and grudge doesn’t mix well.

Originally posted by void-obriens

“You used me?”


Zach could’ve sworn his heart broke in half when he remembered the pain in your face and how you’re voice broke when you heard him bragging to his friends how he would soon drop you once Hannah decided to ‘wake up’ and get jealous and finally go out with him. How you were so replaceable, how you didn’t matter.

It was a party and he was a drunk and insecure little boy that wanted to fit in with the rest of his sex-crazed friends. He knew it was wrong, and his excuse are literally nothing. He wanted to punch himself the moment those words came out of his mouth but it was too late. You already heard it.


You heard all of it.


And Zach would’ve sold the whole world if it meant he could take back everything he said.


“Big Z!” He put up his facade and cheered with the rest of his friends, eyes discretely running around the cafeteria to check for you, out of instinct, but his heart give out when he found you sitting with Jessica on a table, not even sparing him a glance. He saw Jessica rub your arms up and down and whispering something in your ear.


“Hey Zach,” before he could prepare himself, too focused on what Jessica was saying, Therese (a cheerleader he once had a complicated thing with) already had her arms wrapped around his neck. Not wanting her to lose balance and fall he placed his right arm around his waist. “,you up for Bryce’s party this Friday?”

“I – I don’t – I’ll try to see if I can.”


He had enough of Bryce’s party. Nothing good ever came out of it.

Therese was obviously trying to convince him based on her high-pitched voice but Zach’s eyes were already back to your table which was surprisingly void of you and consist of only a glaring Jessica. Zach panicked, pushing the girl off of him unnecessarily hard before getting his bag and running out of the cafeteria.

He saw you walking towards the main building and Zach nearly broke his legs from trying to catch up to you.


“(Y/N)! WAIT UP!”


You flinched when you heard his booming voice through your headphones but stopped walking regardless. He just had that effect on you.


“I …” Zach noticed how the walls he had worked so hard to break down were now standing tall and proud in your dry and sunken eyes, mocking him. Reminding him how much he fucked up. “, I never apologized. What I said in that party was … not right. I was being an ass, I’m sorry.”


He kept staring at the top of your head since that was all he was blessed with considering you’re barely giving him a glance. Nothing made him hate himself more when you looked up and gave him the fakest smile you could muster. 


“Okay.”
You barely whispered.


Zach was flabbergasted by your reply. “Okay?”


You bit your lip and for a brief moment Zach could clearly see the damage he has done that was reflected in your eyes. “I don’t know what to say.” You looked down again and Zach felt his nerves shot up to the sky.


“Tell me I can fix this.” He tried moving closer but you just stepped back, not wanting him too close in your personal space.


“You want to fix it?” you said, almost angry, mostly confused. Zach was prepared to beg on his knees right there.

“I don’t … you hurt me, Zach.”
“I know.”

“Do you?” you looked up to him with watery eyes, lips trembling making Zach want to hug you back together. “, because let me tell you, Dempsey … you have no fucking idea.”

“(Y/N), plea –“

“It was so hard, Zach.” There it was again, your broken voice. The voice that you unconsciously used when you were trying hard not to cry. “It was so hard to be the one for you, to be enough for you. I learned to cook cause you said you hated cafeteria meals, I fixed my grades to appease your mom, I lied to my parents and sneaked out so I could spend more time with you and I ignored every single red flag that came because I …”


Zach held his breathe. If you would say what he thinks you’re about to say then Zach lost more than what he thought. He had lost so much already.


“I loved you, Zach.” You sniffed, smiling up at him sadly.

Zach has never wanted to beat his sorry ass so much before.

“I loved you, Zach … so much. I thought …” you laughed, covering your face with your hands but Zach couldn’t do anything. He was a statue stuck staring, just now noticing, the little gashes and red marks and band aids in your dainty fingers. “You win, Zach. I loved you. Go ask your friends if you get a bonus $50 for that. Or am I just worth a 25?”


“What – no! (Y/N), listen –“
“I’m sorry I wasn’t good enough. I’m sorry I wasn’t Hannah.”
“(Y/N) –“

“YO, Z!” you flinched again when you heard Justin from the hallway, looking confused seeing his best friend with one of his hook-ups.


“You should go.” You pushed Zach away, catching him off guard and making him stumble. Before he could protest you were already disappearing off a curve and wiping off the tears that slipped. Zach couldn’t help but punch the wall nearest to him which resulted to a broken wall and a bloody hand.


You loved him, and he was a fucking idiot.


He wanted to tell you he loved you too and that he didn’t mean shit that he said. He wanted to beg for you to come back until his knees broke. He wanted to tell you that you were one of the only people that mattered to him in this God-forsaken world. He wanted to beg for you to love him again, just one more time because he can promise you he will give you the world on a silver platter.


“Man, are you okay?” Justin eyed the right hand that was just dripping with blood warily as Zach neared him.


“Fuck off, Justin.” He nearly plastered Justin on the wall when he barged past him, not wanting his best friend to receive all of his pent up anger right now but he was making it so hard with Justin following him.


“Whoa, calm down! I’m only trying to—“

“WHAT, JUSTIN?!” Zach lost it. He can actually hear himself snap, can feel his blood boiling. “HELP?! You’re trying to help!?“ It took everything in Zach not to punch Justin and break his jaw just to have anything to release the stress inside him. “I wouldn’t accept help from any of you even if it can cost me my life.”

“Look if this is about that chick then you knew what you put yourself into, man. It was just a joke and she took it too seriously. ”


Zach was aware the whole cafeteria could hear him and he couldn’t give a flying fuck right now. He’s lost enough trying to impress everybody and he was sick of it.


He just lost the girl who loved him for who he is in exchange for the world who barely bats an eye on him unless he was shooting three points on the court. He literally traded a diamond for mud.


He saw the rest of his team watching from the cafeteria door.“You know what, if you wanted to help so much,” he took off his wallet from his back pocket, cleared it with all of his money and threw it to the general direction of his team. “, you can have your money back with interest. Maybe we can all use that to stop being assholes that uses people for fun, yeah?!”

“Zach …”

“I’m done with all of you.” He shook his head, tightening his hold on his backpack in anger. If only he did this sooner, if he just loved you better sooner then he wouldn’t have to lose you.


But he did and he is gonna curse the whole world for it and nobody is gonna fucking stop him. Because he was done being a pushover, he is done begging for their approval, and he is done being who he is not for the world to love him.

He just wanted your love back.

He just wanted you back.



Zach immediately got out of his car when he saw you exit the school gates. He had the whole afternoon to think through on how he would get you back and he decided to do what he does best: be annoyingly persistent.


“(Y/N)!” your head nearly snapped when you heard that familiar voice. You heard what Zach did, everybody was talking about it for the rest of the day. It’s not every day their resident friendly giant snaps.


“Hey, Zach …” you swallowed. You always hated confrontations.


“Can we talk? Please?” he looked behind you and on cue you became aware of the whispers and eyes surrounding you. You nodded, also wanting privacy.


He took your bag, on instinct, and went out to take your hand but you flinched so he stepped back. He opened the door for you and you gave him a small thanks. He drove and drove and even if he took an unfamiliar road, the long way, you knew where you were going. To their family’s lake house.


The whole car ride was filled with tense silence that when you arrived,  you didn’t even wait for Zach to open the door for you and just went barging out and heading straight to the dead wood that laid flat on the ground, just in front of the lake.


Sunsets always made the lake so pretty.


“(Y/N).” You looked at your side and saw that Zach was already sitting beside you, although he preferred to sit on the ground, only leaning on the wood to support his back.


“You’re very brave.” You cut him off. “I’m proud of you.”
He scoffed. “Yeah, you shoudn’t be. I’m still an ass.”
You genuinely laughed but looked up at him anyway but he was just looking straight ahead. “We were never compatible anyway.” you mumbled.

“That’s bullshit and you know it.”

“I know.” You nodded, shaking your head to prevent yourself from crying. “But it hurts less if I tell myself that.”


Silence, once again, became the third wheel. Nobody knew what was the right thing to say because the two of you were not just walking on eggshells – no you were way past that, you were walking on knives and every step only made everything hurt more and more.


“Can you love me again?”
he whispered, this time looking straight at you.
“I don’t think I can un-love you, Zach.” You breathed deep and hard. “But that’s not enough.”


“We can make it enough.” He kneeled in front of you, feeling a small relief when you let him take both of your hands in his. You could almost cry at how perfect it fits. “I’ll change.”


“Zach –“

“I’ll quit basketball.” Your eyes widen with his sudden announcement. “I’ll never talk to any of them ever again and I will be the best boyfriend you will ever have. I’ll even walk you every day to every single one of your class and just spend the weekend with you just … one more chance, (Y/N).” This time he was hiding his face by seemingly studying your fingers but the sniffles he tried to hide were clear as day.

“Just one more because … I can’t lose you – not like this. I promise I’ll do better this time. I’ll be better.”


You shook your head, still being stubborn, afraid of opening up from the regret you felt when you got hurt. “Hannah –“

“I don’t give a shit about Hannah, okay?!” He screamed, reaching his breaking point. He grabbed you, desperate for contact – desperate for anything. He is desperate for you to understand that it was a mistake, that everything in his life has been a mistake except you. He had shitty friends, a shitty family, and have been a shitty person for the majority of his life but it didn’t matter then because he had you.


And he can’t lose that – lose you. 


He won’t allow it.


“I love you.”


The hitch in your throat did not go unnoticed but it was still too early to celebrate, you were still not looking Zach in the eye – still not believing him.


“I know,” Zach sighed, hands gently taking yours. “It’s kinda hard to believe, especially after all of the shit you just heard me say but I swear to you if you … if you just give me a chance, I promise … I promise you won’t regret it.”


You really wanted to believe him, wanted nothing more than to forgive and forget about everything that just happened but you simply can’t. You could barely trust him before how much more now when he already shattered your illusion of love into a million pieces.


“You don’t have to forgive me –“


“I forgive you,”
you cut him off and you can feel his grip in your hand starting to tighten. “That’s actually … that’s actually the easiest part, Zach.” You chuckled humorlessly. “You could’ve murdered me and … and I would still forgive you but I …”


The sobbed escape before you could finish your sentence but you braved through it, not wanting to show any more of your broken state to Zach.

“Tell me, Zach,” you gripped the front of his shirt and buried your face in it in hopes of drowning your sobs. “How can I forget?! How can I forget what you did?! I can’t – I don’t know how and I – I –“

“Shhh,” Zach nearly carried you from how tight he held on to you but it was just what you needed: just what you needed to stop from falling apart. “I … I can’t answer that, baby. I’m sorry.”


You sobbed even harder, holding on more tighter. You were desperate, desperate to forget but you were only human. A human who can get hurt and can hold grudges.


“Don’t worry baby I’ll still be here.” He tried to calm you down and you were so surprised by his statement you actually shot up and looked at him. “It’ll take a long time and I don’t care. I’m … We’re in this together, okay? I’m not leaving. I’m winning you back.”


“Zach,” you sniffed, shaking your head. “I’m not sure I’m worth all that effort.”


This time it was Zach’s time to laugh, disbelief written all over his face as it got closer that you were pretty sure the breaths between you was one. 


“You’re the only one who’s worth anything to me now, baby.”
He whispered like a secret that the thought made you release a watery giggle causing him to smile.  “I’m not letting you go.”

how long has it been

Originally posted by iheartgot

pairing: Jon Snow x Reader

summary:  When Y/N and Jon leave each other and their feelings for The Wall and King’s Landing, They go through hell and back, but when they meet back after rumours of their deaths, things start to become tense.

words: 3.1k

part 2

-

There they were all 5 Stark children along with Jon Snow were sitting near the skirts of the lush forest along with their loyal companions the Y/L/N children.

Y/N was the Eldest among the 3 siblings, she had flowing h/c locks that went right down to the curves of her bum. Her eyes were as bright s the sky and had a e/c hue to them. She hunted like most of the men and fought like a true warrior on the battlefield. She had near to most of the men of the north grazing over her skills and presence, but it seemed like she had eyes for only one suitor.

Next was Stefan, the proud but shy son of House Y/L/N. He had shaggy golden mops of hair atop of his freckled face, his auburn eyes burned deep into any book he could find and only at 14, he was one of the cleverest and smartest people in the whole of Westeros. Unlike his older sister, Stefan preferred to stay huddled up in a cosy room with the fire crackling instead of learning to wield a sword in the harsh cold.

The youngest child was a little girl with the name of Grayce, though she was small, she had an ever burning energy. Grayce’s wild blonde hair would flow in and out of her mouth as she sprinted around her Mother. She would run with her sister when she went out to hunt for supper that evening and begged her brother to place the books somewhere else and direct his focus onto her ever growing attention.

The Y/L/N and Stark children never left each other’s side. If you saw one House heirs walking down, you find the opposite child pacing next to them. Most of the Time Grayce played with little Rickon and Arya, Stefan stayed close to Bran and Sansa; who he might have something for, While Y/N would constantly play around with Robb and Jon. Out of all of them, Y/N and Jon had the closest relationship, they would spend most nights together sharing secrets and chuckling close to the warm heat of the fire.

The Pair had become quite the friends over the years, Jon had even opened up to her about his heritage, all Y/N would do is look him deep in his dark eyes and simply state that she didn’t think as Jon as The Bastard Of Ned Stark but instead as Jon Snow, A wanting Ranger of the Night’s Watch. Jon would be lying if he said he hadn’t thought of Y/N more times than he should’ve. he couldn’t help it though, the way she treated him with nothing but respect and honesty made his cold heart thaw up, even her name sent Jon over the edge in a matter of seconds.

Arya and Bran stood idly by one another in front of the hay archery target, standing right behind them was Jon and Robb has the helped aided the pair to the best of their abilities. Stefan, Sansa, Rickon, and Grayce watched cautiously at the two at a near by tall, old willow tree that offered total shade to the group.

Bran had struggled through the whole process, barely hitting the target once, he hasn’t even hit the board yet, but at least the boy is trying his hardest. Arya, on the other hand, had shot a mere 6 arrows in the centre of the aim.

“Bran, how many times do we have to say this, stop staring at Grayce and Focus boy,” Robb chuckled lowly as he bent down to Bran’s height and placed two firm hands on Bran’s delicate shoulders.

“Where’s Y/N when ya need ‘er,” Jon joked quietly, slightly nudging his brother as he brushed his dark curls out of his eyes.

Suddenly a spotted grey horse came sprinting through the thick trees, though they didn’t get a clear view of the rider, they all instantly recognized the horse as a familiar girl’s trusted stallion; Grey Hoard. The horse turned to face the group of children and revealed the devilish girl holding a handful of squirrels and a beaming smile on her flawless face, sending small vibrations through Jon’s stomach.

Y/N quickly slid off her majestic steed and bounced towards the crowd, still with bright eyes.

“ I brought squirrels,” Y/N laughed as she placed the animals next to her younger brother’s satchel.

“I can see,” Sansa replied in a faulting voice, “remind me why you needed to go out and find yourself a family of squirrels?” she gagged as adverted her eyes up to Y/N’s E/C orbs instead of the carcasses below.

“Supper, dear Sansa,” Y/ smirked widely at the auburn haired girl.

“The mighty Y/N returns,” Robb proclaimed as he bowed towards the giggling girl as she made her way over to the patch of Starks.

“Miss me that much Stark?” Y/N laughed loudly as Bran shot another poorly loosed arrow at a nearby branch.

“Gods Bran, what has your brother been teaching you?” Y/N spoke sarcastically as she strode towards the young lord.

“Only the best archery in the whole of The Seven Kingdoms,” Robb joked as he turned to his brother beside him, Y/N simply scoffed in disagreement before turning her attention to the faulting boy.

“Relax Bran, you’re putting too much stress on your shooting arm,” Y/N spoke softly as her slender fingers danced over Bran’s thin forearm and her face came up next to his, “Use the wind to your favour,”

Bran’s fingers finally let the arrow fly free and it struck straight in the middle of the target. Off near the tree the other cheered and clapped for the boy as Bran took an egotistical bow towards the howling group of children.

“And that’s why you get me to teach you,” Y/N giggled as she ruffled Bran’s straw strands. The whole pack chuckled in amusement and agreement.

“What about me,” Arya whined desperately as she shot another arrow into the middle of the target before turning to face Y/N with big eyes.

“Arya, you’re bloody natural, you require no such training,” Y/N smiled brightly at the young girl as she walked towards the batch of kids, she was just about to place herself net to Rickon when one of her father’s men ran up to her.

“Lady Y/N, your father, and Lord Stark wish to speak with you,” he spoke quietly and harshly.

“Tell them, I’ll speak with them in a moment,” Y/N groaned as she gripped her sword tightly.

“They want you, now,” the man breathed out once again in a distracting voice as he cracked during his sentence. Y/N simply whined and approached Grey Hoard and mounted him.

“Don’t let your brother fuck him up,” Y/N smirked proudly to Jon before she rode off towards the castle and leaving him with a love struck smile, a tight chest and teasing siblings.

-

“You wished to speak with me Lord Stark,” Y/N spoke highly as she titled her head towards Eddard as she paced down the long hallway towards The Lord himself.

“Yes, as You know House Stark and House Y/L/N have been loyal allies since the beginning,” Ned started as he placed the familiar firm Stark hand on Y/N femininely clad shoulder.

“We have served you and your house with honour for decades, my lord,” Y/N spoke softly as she looked down at her closed in shoes.

“And you’ll continue to do so,” Ned smiled as she lit up in excitement.

“What are you insisting my lord?” Y/N beamed brightly.

“I’m heading towards King’s Landing, the south is full of vipers that’ll do anything to get what the want, I need someone who has my back all the time,” He warmly spoke to her as Y/N tried her best to compose herself in front of Eddard. “I wouldn’t want anyone else for this,”

“It would be my pleasure to serve House Stark for another generation,” Y/N bowed slowly.

“Wonderful, We set track at noon,” Eddard boomed as he stomped away from her and Y/N simply bounced away, a spring in every step.

-

Y/N  was at the gates of Winter fell standing tall and proud as her true fantasy is finally coming to a reality. She was there with her fellow guards, The Lord and Lady Stark abroad two beautiful snowy horse, Sansa and Robb had accompanied the parents on their journey while the other Stark Children stayed behind along with Jon Snow.

“Do you have to go?” Grayce whined as she tugged at her older sister’s uniform softly.

“Yes Grayce, but I’ll be back before you know it,” Y/N smiled weakly as a tear slipped back her long lashes and onto the little girl’s soft cheeks. Grayce clung even harder to her, snaking her tiny arms around Y/N toned thigh squeezing tightly at the skin. Y/N turned to the rest of her family, sure she didn’t feel a lot of comfort from her parents: but they still gave her life, she told them she would write to them as much as they could. Finally, she turned her younger brother, she placed a firm hand on his shoulder and looked deep in her golden irises, “Stefan, I know you may not like what I’m about to say, but you need to learn how to wield a sword,” Y/N told him quietly and sternly.

“Anything,” Stefan spoke softly as he nodded his locks and walked back over to his mother.

It was the time to say her goodbye to her long-time friend and companion, Jon. She felt her heart slowly splitting in two as she saw the brooding man make his way over to her. Her stomach did flips and bounces, as his dark eyes locked with her bright ones. Sure the pair have had their ups and downs and Y/N knew that Jon would just see her as a loyal friend to the end, but they way he swung his sword at his opponents during their training made her knees weak.

“I guess this is goodbye,” Jon spoke weakly as he rubbed the back of his neck and adverted his gaze elsewhere

“You know we’ll meet again once we travel back North after Sansa’s wedding,” Y/N tried to make this whole situation lighter but failed miserably. Tears threatened to spill past her lids but she hid them behind her lashes, although she wanted to profess her love for the Stark bastard before riding off she would disgrace her family’s name by her foolish actions, so she simply kept the fateful words to herself.

“We won’t,” Jon spoke harshly as he peered up at her with his dark eyes but this time they were filled with anguish and suffering.

“What?” Y/N choked out, her E/C orbs fell right into his.

“I’m joining The Night’s Watch, Although I won’t be returning for much of my remaining life, I’ll finally be free of my bastard name,” Jon explained quietly, his orbs searched for anything in Y/N’s ones. Silence and tension filled the air, for the first time in what felt like an eternity Jon finally spoke up, “What do you suppose of that,” Y/N said nothing but instead ran right into his arms, squeezing him tightly as she brought her lips up to his ear.

“Be safe and don’t forget me,” Y/N sobbed quietly into his shoulder as she hugged him for longer than she should’ve, Jon arms had already snaked around her curved waist and brought back the feeling in her lower back.

“Of course and Never,” Jon replied with a small smile, Y/N simply placed her warm lips on Jon’s cold cheek, pressing a small kiss to the area before she walked away and rode away with the rest of them, leaving her feelings behind in Winterfell and with Jon.

-

Y/N has escaped another close encounter with guarded men for what felt like the millionth time. She had been on the run since the death of Robb. She felt guilty for his death, if she hadn’t have warned him sooner he would be alive and well, living a wonderful life with his son and wife.

She couldn’t go back home, All of her family were dead, killed right in front of her face. Frey’s men had snuck in, right at midnight at set their home a light, killing all of them, while Y/N was tied up right outside.

Frey’s men had nicked her after the Red Wedding, as she was one of the only people to survive, they tortured her, raped her until she was a heap of blood, sweat, and tears. The memories had etched their way into her mind and would never crawl their way out.

Currently, Y/N had been sitting a comfortable wooden stool and a large pint of Ale, her e/c were gazing out the window, snow falling gracefully against the clear glass, reminding her of the better and more happier times back at Winterfell. Y/N heard a quiet squeak next to her, her orbs danced over to the origin of the sound, to see a small and timid man sitting idly by her.

“So pretty girl,” The man started as he placed his elbow on the splintered table and smirked widely. “Why don’t you give me a smile,” Y/N turned her face to meet his. There sliding down her cheek was a red angry scar, it was irritated and swollen, Y/N wondered how it hadn’t got infected yet. The man flinched back at the sight of the slash and retracted any props to her presence.

“I’ll give you a smile when you get the fuck out of my face,” Y/N sneered and she sipped at her finished Ale.

“How in the hell did you get that?” the man almost shouted, Y/N thought he would start pointing at her sore. She simply rolled her eyes at him and slowly drew her silver sword at him.

“Here want me to show you,” Y/N smirked widely, she pressed the cold metal into his skin almost drawing blood, the man scurried away in fear, she was about to strike him when out the corner of her eye she spotted two much bigger men stand their ground. Although Y/N knew she could take them, she decided to save her energy for a much bigger threat, especially if she was riding north.

Quickly Y/N drew her sword back into its leather holder, threw her payment on the table and stomped out of the Tavern.

“For fuck’s sake, is there not one good place to get some Ale,” Y/N whined as she for what felt like the hundredth time, she mounted her house that she has had for more than 3 years. The Horse softly nudged its head upwards to Y/N, telling her it was hungry.

“Don’t you fret boy, I got you your favourite,” Y/N smiled brightly, she snuck her hand under her thick coat and pulled out a red and ripe apple. Pleased with himself the stallion happily chomped the fruit away from Y/N hand and started trotting in the same pace.

-

Though she knew, what she was doing was wrong, but she had to do it. There in all, its glory stood the mighty walls of Winterfell. Y/N had dismounted her house and slowly paced towards the entrance.

She hesitated on whether she should greet her old friends or not. Would they mark her as their brother’s and father’s murderer or not. She had so many concerned that he simply whisked them away and entered the gates.

As soon as Y/N felt the cool normal breeze against her face, a small smile adorned her face as she finally felt safe and welcomed, after 2 long, terrible years he finally had a place to call her own.

Y/N started to address the place a bit closer now, she had noticed, some arrows sticking out the corner of the stone walls, she also saw men laying on the ground wailing for their life. Quickly Y/N raced over to one of them and helped them to sit up. Y/N had helped his drink a special concoction she had traded.

After that Y/N had got back onto her feet and watched the man slowly soft crying for help and started to breathe normal and nod his head towards her for gratification.

Y/N was about to start walking away from the man when a light voice was calling out her name, she had swivelled around to see a young woman with bright red-hair charging towards her. When Y/N caught sight of her cold eyes, she as well started running towards the girl at full speed until they meet one another. The two women embraced each other in a tight hug.

“I thought you died along side my brother,” Sansa sighed into Y/N neck as her delicate hands gripped at Y/N waist.

“I wish I did,” Y/N whined as she pulled away and looked deeply at Sansa’s snow kissed face.

“You did everything you could,” Sansa replied automatically, running her hand across Y/N deep sore. “You must come with me, there is someone you have to see,” Sansa finished as she pulled Y/N wrist and dragged her up the stairs and into a small room. There in the corner was a tall man that was draped in similar fur coats as Sansa, and his dark locks were pulled into a tight bun, immediately signalling Y/N’s stomach to do so many flips that she thought it was slip up into her mouth.

“Jon,” Sansa warm voice filled the air as even his name alone brought tears to her eyes. The man turned around slowly, the sound of the leather against leather made Jon more brooding than the past times she had seen him. 2 years ago she saw him as a shy timid boy, but now he was tall handsome king.

Y/N didn’t waste any time on talking to Jon in between the few seconds of silence but instead, she had sprinted towards him and embraced him in a heartwarming hug, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck and his ruggish beard tickling her chin.

After a small minute, his arm had snaked around her waist and brought back the tight grip onto her back and pulled her closer into his torso.

“I missed you,” was all that was flung between the two.

-

You know, it’s oddly appropriate and perhaps inspiring that the Sonic franchise as a whole is just as persistent, durable, and defiant as Sonic himself is.

People keep wondering if or when it’ll get cancelled. Other people keep hoping out of spite that it’ll get cancelled. But like the blue hedgehog himself, it never stays down. The franchise still stands triumphantly no matter what is thrown at it. Other franchises would have collapsed if they had been in the same shoes, and yet Sonic remains standing, tall and proud, with a fanbase as large as ever.

I guess It Doesn’t Matter applies just as much to the franchise as it does to the character. Because like Sonic the hero, Sonic the series will never give up the fight.

Theory for the season finale

spoilers from the book. 

So as the book readers know,Jace dies near the end of city of glas(i think it was glas,sorry I dont care enough to look it up)But is brought back by Raziel at Clary’s request.But this left us with a HUGE plothole. Because Alec hadn’t even noticed that Jace died,and according the Parabatai lore a part of your soul dies when your Parabatai dies. So I find it hard to believe Alec didn’t feel a thing,but knowing Casserole,she probably just couldn’t be bothered with Alec,and wanted to give the spotlight to Carrot.

But judging from al the interviews and tweets,the show will handle it differently.There will be a”heartbreaking divide between Alec and Jace”.As Dom stated in one of his interviews.So I came up with my own concept.

One that would give Magnus and Alec a new storyline for season 3,instead of having them disappear for half a goddamn book.

note:its gonna be pretty long,sorry

When Valentine(or maybe Sebastian)is sacrificing Jace to summon Raziel,Alec is with Magnus, fighting Demons and protecting Alicante,maybe we get some alliance rune action.It cuts to Jace and we see Jace being killed,Clary screaming and crying.

Then we cut back to Alec,about to deal the killing blow to a fallen demon,but mid-attack he freezes.And he feels it,he feels his parabatai,his other half,his brother,leaving him.He drops his weapon, we see the blade clanging to the ground.The pain is unbearable, he falls to his knees while clutching his Parabatai rune and screams, a broken,agonizing wail.

The scream makes Magnus’ head turn,and he sees his Alexander on his knees, in unspeakable agony,clutching at his side,screaming in pain and grief.And Magnus knows what’s going on,he knows every location of every rune on Alec’s body and he knows which on Alec is clutching now.With a panicked ”Alexander” he runs to Alec’s side but is blocked by a new wave of demons and circle members.His magic flares up and he cuts his way trough them,desperate to get to Alec.But they just keep coming and wont let him get to his love.behind the demos he sees a circle-memeber make his way over to Alec’s crumpled form.

Cuts back to Jace and Clary,
Clary, heartbroken and filled with rage,uses her powers and limited shadowhunting skills to kick some ass.And idk severely wounds Sebastian or Valentine and they flee or something(I wasn’t really invested in this part as you can see)

Cuts to Alec,
Alec is still on his knees and everything around him numb,the battle going on behind,all distant noise.His eyes are fixated on the ground,he feels empty,and alone.He faintly hears someone scream his name.two boots enter his field of vision and he drags his gaze upwards,and is met with a circle-member, seraph blade in hand,grinning down at him.Alec cant bring himself to lift a single finger to defend himself,he closes his eyes and thinks of Jace,his parents,his siblings and Magnus.

He feels a pang of guilt and sorrow for causing Magnus pain and silently begs, for him to find love again after his death.Then the circle-memeber stabs him trough his heart.And all goes dark

Cuts to Magnus.
Magnus bares witness to the circle-member stabbing the love of his life through the heart.And Magnus screams,his magic flares to life with an unforgiving rage.He lays waste to everyone in near proximity,even Shadowhunters who might have been on their side.Every single demon in his vision is reduced to nothing but ash.

There is no one left,except Alec’s murderer.Who is on his knees next to Alec’s fallen form,cowering in fear.Magnus slowly makes his way over to the man and goes to stand before him.Magnus looks at the man at his feet with an empty expression,the man is crying and begging for mercy.Magnus says nothing as he bends down to pick up Alec’s fallen seraph blade,as soon as it touches his skin it flares up in an angry red light. Magnus glances at the blade for a second then turns towards the man,he raises the blade above his head and brings it down with a roar. 

Cuts back to Clary.
Who is now crying over Jace’s body and begs him to come back to her.

Cuts to Magnus

Magnus(in parallel with Clary) is holding Alec’s body against him,slowly rocking him.Crying and begging him to come back to him.”Nonononono,please.”
“Please,I just found you”
“You cant leave me, not yet,please Alexander”

Cuts between Clary and Magnus.
Now we see,Clary using her rune powers to try summon Raziel once again,while muttering some ritual thats part of the summoning.And while she is doing that.We cut back to Magnus again who is still holding Alec,but has begun to mutter to himself,the air starts to sizzle around him.

The runes around Clary start to glow,as she chants the holy ritual.

The ground around Magnus and Alec starts to crack

“I summon thee, Raziel”
I
n flash of blinding light an angel descends upon the earth,and stands proud and tall in front of Clary

“I summon thee,Asmodeus” 
In a cloud of smoke and ash a man suddenly appears in front of Magnus,(please let him be played by Godfrey Gao,that would be so cool)bearing the same cats eyes as Magnus.Magnus looks up at him,not loosening his grip on Alec.He grits his teeth as he meets the mans eyes”hello father

Both Jace and Alec are brought back to life,but without their parabatai rune.
And the price for Alec’s life was to release Asmodeus,so now he can roam freely on earth.And thats who Magnus,Alec and Izzy are hunting in those pictures from set.That would actually give them a plot,instead of just writing them out of the goddam book.

God that was long,thank you if you made it all the way through!!!!

Anyway tell me what you think.   

Guys, this is a photo of Astrid that her breeder took of her enclosure.

You can see some poo there, but that’s only 24 hours worth.

Look at her water and feed containers in the back ground! Look at the bars she’s standing on! These are the things that get nasty the fastest and hers are SO clean!

It’s obvious that her set up is regularly maintained.

Now, look at Astrid herself.

Big, bright eyes. Nose nice and clear. Feathers smooth, NO stains on the white parts.

Deep, dark black wing shields, with no visible dust. (Birds in poor ventilation do get visibly dusty!)

This is EVERYTHING you should be looking for when evaluating a breeder.

THIS is a bird who’s owner is NOT just giving you a sales pitch when he claims that she is a member of his family!

Astrid is not a show bird.

Her frill is nearly non existent, she stands pretty horizontally, and with nine white flights on one side and only six on the other, she’s really uneven.

A good breeder knows that a bird does not have to be a shoe in on the show circuit to be a good stock bird, and treats ALL of their birds like show winners.

All a great breeding bird needs to improve its breed is one or two really exaggerated or outstanding features, and a mate who cancels out their faults with out spoiling their best features.

In Astrid’s case, those are her beautiful head and her deep, rich color.

Her eyes are big and round. Head is solid and powerful, and her beak is structurally perfect! Her crest is full, beautiful, and even! (And the icing on the cake: her temperament is very patient and sweet.)

Hans stands tall and proud and has PERFECTLY even flights. 9 on both sides is AMAZING! (There can be between 5 and 10 white flights on a shield marked bird, with symmetry highly favored! 10 x 10 is considered perfect, but 11 flights on either or both wings is a fault, undermarking the shield) 

He has a good head and crest that won’t degrade hers, and is a pretty deep, shiny black.

I am SO excited to pair these two!

Flight Buddy

Summary: 100 banging kinks for Bucky’s 100th birthday! | On a plane. (Bucky x Reader)
Warnings: smut clearly; oral (f receiving), dirty talk
Word count: 1,7k
A/N: Let’s just all ignore that this drabble is way over the word limit. But oh look! It’s Gen! @bucky-plums-barnes (Babe don’t kill me for the word count lol) LEAVE ME FEEDBACK!!!!!! <3

Masterlist

Originally posted by oscarsisaacs

„Attention! Flight 343 from Sydney to New York is now boarding. Please make your way to gate 4.“

You gathered your backpack and started walking towards the gates, flicking your eyes up and down between your phone and the directions to gate 4. This was your first time abroad on your own and you were quite nervous at airports, fearing you’d board the wrong flight.

You followed the directions and some people that seemed to be heading the same way. You checked in successfully and boarded the plane, you were greeted by a lovely flight attendant wishing you a safe flight.

„19A.. 19A..“ you murmured to yourself looking at the numbers above the seats, looking for your own. Of course, you figured, that’s what the A meant. 19A was an aisle seat. You sighed and stuffed your backpack in the compartment above the seats and made yourself as comfortable in the comfortable leather seats that came with such long distant flights.

You were in the middle of texting your friend Genevieve of your safe boarding that you didn’t notice a man standing right next to you, holding a ticket of his own. The man cleared his throat loudly and you snapped your head in the direction of the voice.

„I think that’s my seat.“ He pointed his long slender finger to the seat next to yours.

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Anonymous said: Can you please writer where the reader meets jeff’s family ( you can pick if they are dating or not but either way jeff 100% never shuts up about the reader to his parents) and atkin’s family embarrassment ensues haha

Author’s Note: So I couldn’t come up with any shenanigans, so I double whammied Jeff&Y/N. Lets just say that both sets of parents ship it. And not afraid to be vocal about it ;) I’m sorry it didn’t come out as you hopefully expected.

Originally posted by qrunge-alexxaa

Jeff X Reader

“Jeff. Jeff!” You laugh. “Stop stuffing your face and drive.”

“But it’s s'good!” He mumbles, shoving another spoonful of chili frito into his mouth.

You pull your phone out, taking a video as his cheeks puff out with all the food he’s stuffed into them while you’re stopped at a stop sign. He had surprised you by driving you an hour into the big city for a major league baseball game and the two of you sat in the middle of crowd, cheering and booing and stuffing yourselves full of ball game food. But Jeff- Jeff couldn’t get enough of their chili frito and even ordered another tray right after the game had ended.

A car honks from behind Jeff’s car, you cackling as Jeff startles in surprise. He laughs directly at your phone’s camera, he then passing over his food to you before driving away. You quickly edit a small piece of the video to add to Instagram for everyone to see just how much your best friend is better than theirs, and then settle in for the drive home while eating half of Jeff’s food.

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2

mcenziehughes said:Will you please do an imagine of where you’re the new kid at Forks High School and you’re really shy and quiet and awkward but you’re really obsessed with the Civil War and you’re Jasper’s Mate?


A/N: Yes, of course, lovely! I hope that you enjoy what I’ve come up with, sweetie; and thank you for sending in your request! I apologize for how long it has taken me to get through all of my requests and get to yours. Nevertheless, please enjoy!


Not my gif. Gif credit goes to the amazing creators!


Imagine: Being the new kid at Fork’s High School, and being quite awkward and quiet. Despite this you’re obsessed with the Civil War and you’re Jasper’s mate.


You bit your lip at the nauseating sea of orbs hit you as soon as you got out of your car. Your lack of socializing-know-how, made you stand out even more as you hurriedly attempted to find your way to the front office. You stared around you, perplexed and puzzled as ever.

Jasper felt your distress from across the parking lot and sent you a wave of comfort and ease. Despite his siblings strict expressions, he moved forward at an uncomfortably slow place for him.

“Pardon me, Ma’am, but you seem lost. I don’t recognize your face, so you must be new.” Jasper’s talking before he can even process what he is saying. He stands before you, tall and proud, like a soldier.

“O-oh!” you squeak, tilting your head to look up at him and you swore that you could have just died in that moment! “Yes, yes I am new. Do you know where the front office is, so I can get my timetable?” your voice stammered and stumbled across the words as a rare smile spread across Jasper’s complexion, an immediate spark flaring between the two of you: Not out of negation but out of something he was unfamiliar with.

“Certainly, this way.” his charm was flawless as he began to walk without you, stopping and turning shortly, hi stare on you warm as he urged you forward. “I don’t bite.” he chuckled, but that would be determined on whether he could control himself, which he usually could.


Jasper was silent for the majority of the journey towards the office, opening each door like a gentlemen. He allowed you to get your schedule, waiting for you outside before offering you his help once more, enjoying your company much more than he really should.

“So, what sorts of things are you interested in?” Jasper asked nonchalantly, his honey colored eyes peeking at you for but of a moment.

You.’ you wanted to say but strictly left that in your head. “I’m sort of a Civil War nerd.” you were pretty blunt, straight to the point, which made Jasper laugh, stopping and turning to you, pleasure written across his face.

“Well, here’s your first class…” he trailed off, unsure of your name.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N), I forgot, my name is Jasper.” he spoke politely. “I hope to see you around, because I’m somewhat of a Civil War nerd myself.” he simpered before he walked off, leaving your mouth agape and clueless as to what exactly had just happened.


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