that probably says more about my prospects than anything else really

anonymous asked:

do you have any tips for young writers?

Read widely, and deeply, and over again. Reading is not an avoidance of writing; I think it’s study. The more you read, the better you understand what language is capable of — specifically on a technical level, how it functions, or might be worked into functioning, in the telling of X. And discerning how someone else’s sentences work, or someone else’s poems break, or why precisely you need to go for a walk after reading someone else’s essay is not copy or emulation, but apprenticeship. (Frank McCourt: ”He says, Ah, boys, boys, You can make up your own minds but first stock them. Are you listening to me? Stock your minds and you can move through the world resplendent.”) Surround yourself with evidence of what language can do and it will agitate and add to your own perspective, which is the seat of your own voice.

Don’t think too much about audience. Write first of all for yourself, on behalf of what moves and matters to you, and maybe second of all for a few people you love. I think write to them, rather than for or at or, strictly speaking, about them? While I’m sure these are, in some sense, four distinct actions, I also suspect — I mean, I personally find — there’s a lot of overlap. These people you love might be writers, too, whose work and minds you admire, and whose reactions you trust; they might not be writers at all. But it helps to have a small, grounding faction outside of yourself: a spotting mechanism, not for approval but as a gauge of your own patterns.

Be prepared for rejection, of course. I would not put—especially in the context of just starting out—too much emphasis on publication, or really much at all. Don’t be in a rush. (Having said that, I’ve been in a rush before; it’s a good lesson and a good feeling, but learn it and move on.) Don’t bother trying to decode shades of rejection in a response. Instead, do try to sit through several stages of thinking something is Done. I don’t know if I know when something is done, but I’ve learned to ride out the exhilaration of having written a piece: to expect the doubt and not short-circuit it, to go back and reconsider, and to do this maybe, probably, several times. And on the question of rejection: it will happen a lot, and you can’t know the reason in each instance. A lot of extremely-competant-to-unimpeachable-to-truly-great writing is turned down because of space or length or outside/contractual deadline or notable similarity to something else recently accepted. When you are sending your work out, try to keep both these things in mind: that it may not be about your work, and that your work may not be ready.

Keep a list of passages from literature that move you. Make playlists of songs that round out or score what you’re trying to write, if that feels like a natural and adjacent organizing point re: themes and feeling – a mutable soundtrack to your narrative-in-progress, an inexact mirror. (But maybe don’t listen to the playlists while you write; I don’t know about that.) (I’m extremely unmusical, and not even adept at expressing what I’m responding to in music or why, but a song can lay me out for a day or more. Once, a friend who is widely artistically talented said she thought she might be so enamored of music in part because it eludes her creatively. I think this is right: the marooning comes about precisely because I lack musical talent or inclination, because I am so inarticulate about how other people’s talent operates and affects, because it would seem I am never able to do anything about [the feeling]. I am unequipped to respond; my reaction gets lodged. So on one hand, when I’m writing I’m often trying, in the context of my subject, to pin down, put words to, this actual feeling — the visceral lodging/dislodging — that music sometimes generates. On the other, I’m challenged by the dubious prospect of cultivating the feeling for effect, of learning how to generate it and deliver it to the page myself, from scratch or somewhat at will.) What I mean to say is music might be another check, like people. And this other check may not be music, but painting or photography or fabric or—.

This is advice is never far from me:

Eileen Myles

Martha Graham to Agnes de Mille

Elena Ferrante

Octavia Butler

On that last bit: make writing a daily habit, no matter how little time you may be able to give it. You will have to learn for yourself when to push through blockage or malaise or distractibility, and when to go for that proverbial or actual walk. Whatever your habit entails, keep at it. I’m excited for you. xo

back home

ive never written anything w this relationship so i am pleased as punch and kinda wanna live in this world for a little while so i might post more

words: 2k

warnings: parent death ment

feat: everybody except scott and thor. i’ll probably find some way to work them in though.

a/n: bucky’s gonna b a bit of an ass



You were practically jumping up and down in the elevator because of how excited you were as the doors slid open. It’d been almost 6 months since you’d last seen Tony which was without a doubt the longest period of time you’d gone without seeing him in your life. Things had become chaotic in your life and his but the two of you still talked on a regular basis. You were his one sense of stability at this point in his life and he had proven time and time again that he would do anything to keep you safe.

Keep reading

title: i’m so tired (my mind is set on you)

summary: Clarke can’t sleep. Bellamy’s already there. They cuddle but, like, for emotional comfort.

A/N: It’s set before somewhere between 402 and 403 because I was supposed to post this last week but got lazy s m d h


Clarke’s nightmares aren’t what they used to be. Which isn’t to say that they’re any better. They still leave her feeling hollow, wishing she’d never gone to sleep in the first place. They’re just different. Once, she used to dream of the blood on her hands, of the dead screaming in her ear. Now her dreams are sharper. More urgent. She needs to do something. But before she can, she wakes up. And there’s a hole in her chest where they used to be something else, and there’s static in her head where there used to be so much more.

But these days, she’s been waking up to strong arms around her and hard muscle against her back. She should be uncomfortable with how tight Bellamy’s holding her, but she only melts in what she can only describe as relief. The world’s ending, she reminds herself, but he’s still here.

Keep reading

INTJs: From an INFJs Perspective

As we all know, INTJs are quite complex and individualistic. This has many manifestations, both in how they are perceived and how they perceive themselves. Here are some characteristics I’ve noticed that I’d like to share:

1 - INTJs are hard to get to know. Like really. They’re masters of hiding who they really are deep down and people are prone to assuming that they are merely bitter and hate humanity, but they actually care a good deal. They just aren’t terribly good at showing that they care.

2 - INTJs do not pick up on subtle hints unless they are actively watching for them, which they rarely are. For an INFJ such as myself who communicates through subtle hints a good deal of the time, it has turned into a fun game to see how obvious my hints can get until the INTJ notices. So far they haven’t noticed a single one. (Seriously, INTJs. I’ve seen you people walk into stuff and trip over things that would have injured another person, but you all just get up like nothing happened and move on. It’s incredible, really… It’s like you’ve got metal skeletons or something.)

2a - This item is more of an elaboration on #2 than anything else. When someone likes an INTJ and they attempt to show the INTJ that they like them, it’s difficult to actually get them to realize it without coming out and saying it to their face which is often a daunting prospect. (Any other types feel me here?) I know an ENFJ who likes an INTJ and ENFJ’s main way of showing someone they like them is giving them random hugs. INTJs aren’t too keen on this as ENFJ has found out and ENFJ is a little discouraged, not to mention that INTJ makes a small effort to avoid ENFJ now and it’s making ENFJ rather sad.

3 - INTJs are focused and serious. Very much so. So much so, in fact, that you’ve sometimes go to throw a small object (like a brick) at them to get them out of their hyper-focus state. Although, from past experience I would not at all recommend attempting to bring them back to reality; they are not happy when someone brings them back to this dimension where incompetent humans such as ourselves roam and talk non-stop, haha. (Also, bricks aren’t 100% reliable because INTJs often have their robot guard blast them out of the air and promptly terminate you to reduce the chances of further distraction.) INTJs, when interested in a topic, become a knowledgeable expert almost overnight. If you ask them about a topic they know a lot about (for example, the INTJ that co-runs this blog and does most of the MBTI Chronicles posts is big into firearms, as am I) and they will talk your ear off if you let them. Find a solid common ground and they’ll probably like you. (Being able to think for yourself is another requirement for being an INTJs friend, btw.)

4 - INTJs, when mad, don’t get angry like most others do. While a lot of people become physical and emotional, INTJs will usually become cold and they will openly show their disdain for the thing or being that managed to make them angry in the first place, often roasting them (if it be a person) mercilessly. This is often a terrifying thing to witness because INTJs rarely get visibly angry. People may be well-acquainted with their death-stare, but a full-on angry INTJ is usually enough to make most people shy away, leaving the INTJ to simmer down alone, which is probably best for humanity in general. They rarely get physical when angry, but if a close friend is getting physically abused they will often step in and terminate the abuser.

5 - INTJs can be poetic if they want to be. Not all INTJs take an interest in poetry, but if an INTJ wants to convey a poetic message they can indeed convey it through their writing. INTJs are also brilliant technical writers, able to explain complex concepts through simple language that most would have a hard time with. Having an INTJ explain something to you through writing is about as good as it’s going to get.

Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this little list of (slightly humorous) observations about INTJs. :)

INTJs, what are your thoughts? I’ve known several INTJs for a while, but I’m yet unsure if I know the personality type well enough to make an accurate list of traits.

Thanks you all for reading to the end! It’s almost 800 words long and that’s a fair chunk. Good job! Thank you for following the blog and INTJ promises more MBTI Chronicles posts soon! :)

- INFJ admin

Summary: Sansa is kind of YouTube famous and decides to vlog her family holiday for her viewers but her first video has unexpected results. 


The thing is Sansa didn’t mean to get into YouTube. She had aspirations of being a theatre actress, doing Shakespeare on the West End or something equally as prestigious, but one drunken night at uni, Sansa decides the world is in dire need of a video on how to do your makeup drunk. It’s not her proudest moment and she even uploaded it without any editing whatsoever, but somehow, by the time she woke up the next morning, she already had over 100,000 views. It’s utterly bizarre and – well, it’s kind of cool. Jeyne thinks it’s good exposure because it’s not like she can’t just quit YouTube if she wants, so she uploads a couple more videos. One of her doing the everyday beauty routine challenge and another drunk one where Jeyne and her drink wine and talk about fuckboys. By the end of the month, she’s kind of YouTube famous and life ceased to make sense anymore.

Her family at least thinks it’s hilarious. Robb constantly asks to appear in her videos and her views skyrocket each time because according to her fans, her brother is ‘so hot holy shit let him impregnate me’, which is really, really disgusting. Occasionally Bran will join her if he’s visiting her at uni and they’ll just drink and review movies or shows together. The only two people who adamantly refuse to have anything to do with her channel are Arya and Rickon. Rickon’s still in that awkward teenage phase where hanging out with his older sister is uncool and Arya just scoffs at YouTube in general. But when the trend of vlogging starts taking off, Sansa decides to give it a try. She’s going on holiday with her family and a few of their friends, so it’s the perfect opportunity to test it out.

– although not everyone thinks so.

“Get that fucking camera out of my face, Sansa,” Arya spits out as they stand in the queue waiting to check in their luggage. Sansa sticks out her tongue and her sister rolls her eyes in exasperation. They’ve always had an antagonistic relationship, as sisters do, but it’s gotten worse with YouTube. Sansa doesn’t really know why but she doesn’t want to dwell on it either. Arya can be a cow so it’s probably just that.

Sansa turns the camera to Robb, who’s wearing a greying hoodie, sunglasses perched on his nose and an empty Starbucks cup in one hand. “Hungover, Robb?”

He looks up blearily, notices the camera and flashes a weak smile. “Like you wouldn’t believe.” Looking directly at the camera, he adds, “listen, kids, if your best friend breaks up with his girlfriend and you think it’s a good idea to go cheer him up with a bottle of whiskey eight hours before flying, don’t.”

Arya, Bran and Rickon snicker, but Sansa is a little frozen with this new piece of knowledge. “Wait…” But she doesn’t get a chance to ask because Jeyne comes bounding forward with her hot pink suitcase rolling behind her.

“Morning, Starklings!” she greets brightly – to much groaning from her siblings. She plants a kiss on Sansa’s cheek and squishes Robb’s face between her hands. “Hi, sunshine. Saw your Instagram story last night. Looks like you and Jon had a great time.”

“Story? What story?” Robb questions, rubbing his cheeks, before his eyes widen. “Noooo, I didn’t. Did I? Shit.”

“You did, you so very did,” Jeyne chirps, as she turns to the camera with a wave. “Our resident heartthrob here took our resident grump to a strip club.”

“What!” shouts all four Stark siblings, Sansa included.

Arya punches Robb in the shoulder. “Why would you do that to Jon? Does he look like that would cheer him up? He’s not you or Theon.”

Her brother rubs his shoulder, glaring at Arya. “Drinking games weren’t working! And he didn’t want to talk about it so…” He shrugs sheepishly. “We were out of options.”

“That’s so like you, Robb,” Sansa says on a sigh. “Maybe you should’ve just left him alone.”

She doesn’t usually voice her opinions on any matter involving Jon – mostly because she doesn’t think she has a leg to stand on. They’re not friends, not in the way he is with Robb or Arya or even Bran and Rickon. Actually, she seems to be the only person he doesn’t get along with. But she knows him. He’s Jon. He’s the guy who sat with her on her fifteenth birthday when she walked in on Joffrey making out with Margaery. He’s the guy that drove her home when she got drunk for the first time at seventeen and was too terrified to call Robb or her parents. He’s her grumpy knight in shining armour and she’s been in love with him for six years, so she knows him, probably better than Robb does, but of course no one knows that.

“Speak of the devil!” Arya exclaims as she walks quickly towards Jon, throwing her arms around his waist in a tight hug. He chuckles and wraps his arms around her. Sansa watches them whispering to one another, Arya rolling her eyes and then Jon ruffling her hair with fondness. It twists something inside of her that makes her shut the camera off and look away.

“Are you okay?” Jeyne says under her breath so only Sansa can hear.

She nods mutely, not wanting to say anything to betray how painful it’s always been to see Jon interact with her siblings, how effortless their friendships are and the stark contrast it is to how he is with her. She doesn’t need him to love her back, not in the way she loves him, but she can’t even have his friendship and that stings.

“Morning,” Jon greets as he reaches them with Arya tucked under his arm. “So I guess you’ve all heard.” They nod and there’s a round of commiserations. “Okay, good. Now that that’s done with, let’s not bring it up again.” His voice is teasing but there’s a sharpness to it that means Jon’s serious, so they all laugh and carry on, changing the topic to whether their flight will be delayed.

Theon’s the last to arrive, and thankfully by that point, the queue’s moved up enough that they only have to wait a further five minutes to check in. Her parents arrive back from their morning stroll around the airport just in time and soon they’re all heading to board the plane. There’s a scuffle as they near the gate as everyone’s looking at their tickets to see who they’re sitting with.

“Oh c’mon! Someone else sit next to him!”

“Awe, Jeyne, I’m not that bad.”

“Piss off, Theon. I will stab you!”

“Jeyne, honey, it’s only a couple hours.”

“Yes, Mrs Stark.”

Sansa muffles her laugh behind her bag as she searches for her passport which she shoved down to the bottom as they went through security. Once she has it in her grasps, she pulls out the ticket and reads out, “26C.”

“Oh,” says a voice from behind her and Sansa quickly turns around. Jon’s looking at his ticket then back up at her, a faint smile on his lips. “26B. I guess we’re sitting together.”

“I guess so,” is all she can manage, as her whole body stiffens at the prospect of spending nearly three hours on a plane beside Jon. A single Jon. It’s just all too much for Sansa to deal with this early in the morning. His hair is as unruly as ever, curling just over his forehead, and he’s wearing a thin black jumper that strain against his broad shoulders and a pair of dark-washed jeans. Too much. It’s too much.

Sansa grabs for Jeyne and tugs her forward, turning away from Jon. “I’ll sit with Theon.”

Her best friend’s face widens with joy and then suddenly pinches together as she frowns at Sansa. “Why would you –” She glances behind them where Jon is still standing, now rolling his eyes at whatever Robb is saying. “Oh no, absolutely not. You are not running away from him again.”

“Again?” Sansa cries out indignantly, catching the curious gaze of her father. “What are you talking about?” she hisses a little quieter.

“Um, remember when Robb and Jon came out with us that night in freshers?” Jeyne raises a brow and Sansa deflates because she does remember. “He was practically ready to propose to you.”

“He was drunk.”

“He couldn’t stop staring at you or smiling at you,” Jeyne says. “And then he asks you to go outside with him and you panic and run away.”

“I went to the bathroom!” Sansa whispers harshly, but she did panic. She had been so sure she would never be more than Robb’s little sister to Jon that when he had taken her hand and asked if she wanted to get some fresh air, she panicked.

“And what happened next, Sans?” Jeyne asks, voice a little gentler now.

Her heart breaks all over again as she leans her forehead against her friend’s shoulder, a resigned sigh escaping her lips. “He met Ygritte.”

“That’s right, he did, and guess what? They broke up and you’re not bloody running again,” Jeyne says as she pushes Sansa back upright. “You’re going to sit there and be charming and he’s going to fall in love with you all over again.”

“You’re delusional,” Sansa murmurs instead.

“No, I’m brilliant. Now, c’mon.”

The first hour actually passes by in near to complete silence. Sansa doesn’t know if she’s disappointed or relieved; she’s existing in the realm between both emotions and it’s making it really hard for her to sit still or sleep. Jon seems to be sleeping just fine, his face relaxed as he leans as far back as the chair will go. But as the second hour approaches, the man beside Jon, a terrifyingly large and bulky man with multiple tattoos winding up his arms and peeking from his cargo shorts, slumps his head onto Jon’s shoulder with a thump. He startles awake, wide-eyed and confused, and Sansa can’t help laughing at his expression and the situation he’s now in.

He groans quietly. “Of course this would happen to me.”

“Oh, don’t be such a drama queen, Jon,” she says, nudging his shoulder with hers. “If only I was as lucky to have a handsome man resting on me.”

Jon quirks an eyebrow at her. “Then let’s trade seats.”

“But how could you wake him!” she whispers back, smiling brightly at him and forgetting for a moment that she’s still madly, desperately, stupidly in love with this man.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” he says but his lips twitch and it’s adorable how hard he’s trying not to smile.

“I’m enjoying it just the right amount,” Sansa says before she’s reaching down for her bag and grabbing her camera, turning it on and recording. “Now I’m enjoying it too much.”

Jon eyes the camera and then glares at it. “Sansa,” he says warningly. “If this goes on the internet, I’m going to –”

“What?” she questions with an innocent smile. Sansa turns the camera onto herself. “He wouldn’t dare threaten this face, would he?” She gives a little pout, and in the background, she sees Jon cracking a fond smile as he reaches forward to tug at her loose plait.

“I’ll get you back for this.”

She focuses the camera back on him again. “Hmmm, no, I don’t think so.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no, Jon, you big puppy dog. I can outplay you,” she says still sweetly innocent. She’s enjoying this weird banter they have going on far more than she should because Jon just broke up with his girlfriend and this is only going to end up with her getting her heart broken in the end. Only she doesn’t care. She doesn’t care so much she might as well repress whatever self-preserving brain cells she has left.

“Outplay me? I didn’t realise this was a game,” Jon says, amused.

“Life’s a game, Jon Snow,” she quips back, to which he actually laughs so loud the man leaning on him jumps awake. He stares at Jon and then at Sansa’s camera and yawns before leaning against the window and falling asleep once again.

Both Jon and Sansa stifle their laughter but it’s no use so Sansa does something wildly inappropriate and presses her face into Jon’s shoulder, muffling her giggles into his jumper. He doesn’t seem to mind or maybe he’s too busy trying not to laugh himself.

For a few seconds, Sansa just allows herself the comfort his warmth provides her before extricating herself once she realises her camera’s still recording. She turns it to face her and makes a face. “We’re going to hell.”

Jon nods in the background. “First class tickets.”

“At least I have you as company,” she says, smiling back at him, and he returns her smile.

When she passes out later at the hotel trying to edit the footage, the last thing Sansa expects is for it to be uploaded by the time she wakes up and for her to receive way more notifications than should be normal.

Aromanticbabex: Okay but am I the only one who would still climb hungover Robb like a tree?

1534 likes

Sansa blanches. How is that the most liked comment? Ew!

Lyla Patel: Sansa, you’re so pretty! I’m so glad you’re vlogging! Your videos always makes my days better!

1045 likes

A smile so wide blossoms on her face and she quickly replies, ‘Thank you, Lyla. I appreciate you and all my fans so much! Xxx’

But then the comments sort of devolve from there and she really has no how idea how to handle any of it.

Al Nottellingu: WHO IS THIS JON AND WHY HASN’T HE BEEN IN HER VIDEOS BEFORE?!!!!!!!

893 likes

           Lili Cho: I CAN FEEL THE SEXUAL TENSION FROM HERE!!!

            Roseand Tenforever: I ship it! I ship it so hard!!

            Tom Hart: I AM COINING JONSA AND NONE OF YOU CAN TELL ME ANY DIFFERENT!

Siobhan Hughes: Ummmmmm why the fuck would anyone break up with a man who looks like THAT! Sansa, get in there, girl!

679 likes

Sansa slams her laptop shut and throws a pillow at Jeyne’s head. Her friend groans and rolls away from her. She throws a second pillow at her.

“WHAT!”

“Did you edit my video and upload it for me?” Sansa demands angrily. She slides out of bed to go and sit on top of Jeyne’s prone figure.

The girl huffs and tries to kick her legs out to dislodge Sansa. “I thought I was being a good friend! You looked really tired!”

“But now the entire internet thinks me and Jon have something going on!”

Jeyne opens one eye to narrow it at Sansa. “Well, don’t you? You two were awfully cosy on that plane.”

Jeyne,” she groans, pinching her friend on the hip. “He just broke up with his girlfriend! What if Ygritte sees it?”

“Then her bloody loss!” Jeyne suddenly thrashes wildly and Sansa ends up falling backwards onto the floor. A bruise is definitely going to form on her ass now. “Stop worrying about some girl you don’t even know and go after what you want, Sans.” She leans over the side of the bed to look down at her. “Look, I know Joffrey and Harry really screwed you over in the whole relationship department. And then after Ramsay, you’re kind of hesitant but we’ve known Jon since forever. He’s good and decent.”

Sansa rolls her eyes, even though her whole body’s recoiled at the mention of Ramsay but she’s trying desperately not to dwell on those months in her life. “I know that. Of course I know that. I’m the one in love with him, aren’t I?”

It’s hard to concentrate on having a good holiday when her mind is whirling with what Jeyne’s said. She doesn’t know why she doesn’t just go for Jon aside from the courtesy of giving him a wide berth while he heals from his breakup, but that’s not even what’s making her hesitant. It’s much more convoluted than that. It’s being cheated on in both of her previous relationships. It’s being stalked by a classmate for three months until he’s finally arrested for something completely unrelated – since reporting a stalker who hasn’t done anything means nothing to the police. It’s all of those things that make Sansa start to wonder maybe she shouldn’t be with anyone ever because everything she touches gets tainted one way or another and the last thing she’d want is to taint someone as pure as Jon. He’s the last good man on this planet that’s not related to her. And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? He’s really, really good. He’s honourable and honest and so loyal. He’d never cheat on his girlfriend. When he loves someone, she’s his whole world. Sansa saw the way he used to look at Ygritte, and although it had killed her to see him look at someone that way that wasn’t her, she was happy he’d found someone who made him that happy.

God, she hates love. She hates everything about it.

“Alright, sourpus, what’s got your knickers in a twist?” Arya asks, slumping down into the beach chair beside her. She’s in a simple black bikini with a ball cap turned the wrong way around on her head. She has a bottle of some obscure Spanish beer in one hand.

Sansa shields her eyes from the sun to look at her sister. “What are you talking about?”

“You’re glaring at the ocean like it personally offended you,” Arya points out with a long drag from her beer. “Honestly, you’re in bloody Spain. What have you got to be so angry about?”

“I’m not angry, I’m just… thinking,” she says lamely as she watches Jeyne tackle Theon into the ocean while Robb looks on with an amused and somewhat impressed expression.

Uhuh, well you should think less,” Arya says. “Because you’re on holiday. Thinking is for losers. C’mon, Sans, have some fun.”

Sansa sighs. “What do you care if I’m miserable or not?”

Her sister snorts and rolls her eyes. “I care. Hey, I do. Just because I think you’re a spoiled princess most of the time doesn’t mean I don’t care if you’re happy or not. You’re just annoying.”

“I don’t know if I should be comforted or insulted,” Sansa chuckles as she swipes the beer from Arya’s hand to take a sip. As soon as the liquid hits the back of her throat, she makes a face. “I forgot I hated beer.”

Her sister snatches the bottle back. “Good. More for me.” They fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes, both of them too busy watching their family and friends get into an all out war with each other. “Is this about Jon?”

Sansa’s head snaps to Arya so quickly she probably has whiplash now. “What?”

“He has no idea you fancy him, you know?” she says nonchalantly as if Sansa’s whole world hasn’t just been turned upside down. “Jon’s a bit of an idiot like that. Actually, both of you are idiots like that.”

What?

“I mean god, he fancied you for so long it was honestly super gross,” she continues. “When he started dating Ygritte, we were all like ‘what the fuck’ but also kind of glad he was moving on.”

“What do you mean ‘we’ and what are you talking about!” Sansa is about to hit her sister out of sheer frustration.

Arya finally turns to look at Sansa and she’s wearing a long-suffering expression. “We as in the whole bloody family. Okay maybe except for Rickon. But everyone else kind of guessed it.” Her sister shrugs. “We didn’t think you were interested.”

“But I –”

“You’ve always been the type of person to keep your cards close to your chest,” Arya rattles on, cutting her off. “It was hard for any of us to tell.”

“So what changed?”

“Ygritte.” Her sister sighs and takes another pull from her beer. “When he started bringing her around, it was like – I don’t know. You just looked so broken.”

Sansa bites down hard on her lower lip but the memories come flooding back anyways.

The first time she saw Ygritte and Jon together was at her childhood home during Easter holidays. He’d brought her back with him from uni and it was just so obvious how smitten he was with her. Seeing him like that, so in love with someone else, had ripped out every wall she’d ever built around herself. It was like her mind had just given up trying to protect itself, like it didn’t care anymore what the rest of her did; it just wanted to succumb to its own self-pity and heartache. For days, Sansa had lived on autopilot. She smiled and made small talk but nothing could penetrate through the haze she was living in. Eventually, Jeyne had to come kidnap her and drive them back to uni early before Sansa completely fell apart.

The months that followed were the most agonising of her life. It feels melodramatic now to think it but Sansa couldn’t describe it in any other way. She knew even then how stupid it was to feel such a loss so acutely when Jon had never been hers to lose in the first place, but the petulant, childish part of her mind still screamed out that he was hers. He was her grump in shining armour and no one else’s. It was pathetic and she felt pathetic for thinking it.

“I hated her so much,” Sansa admits after a long silence. “I know that’s awful. I didn’t even know her but I just did. She was everything I wasn’t. Strong, smart, witty – it was like this realisation that I could try all my life to be like Ygritte but no one would ever look at me the way Jon looked at her.” She looks at her feet buried in the sand and says quietly, “because none of them would ever be him.”

Arya reaches out to grip Sansa’s hand. “You don’t just fancy him, do you?” She shakes her head. “You love him?” She nods. “Awe shit, Sans, then tell him.”

“I can’t. It’s not – he just broke up with Ygritte. I’d be an asshole to dump all this on him now.”

“You’re an asshole for not telling him in the first place,” Arya says but she’s smiling softly at her. “I’m no Jon interpreter but there’s a good fucking chance he loved you too.”

That night Sansa can’t bear to be around her family as they mill around the hotel bar chatting and drinking. She has too much to think about so at the first opportunity – which is just when Robb and Theon decide to do a duet at the karaoke machine – she slips out onto the beach with the goal of just walking aimlessly for as long as she needs to clear her mind. As always, Sansa has her camera and she begins to record the ocean as it laps up onto the sand. It’s close to a full moon and the silver light reflects off of the murky surface of the water. It’s beautiful and romantic, and so of course, she feels lonely for the first time in a long time. Sansa’s normally okay being single. After the debacle with Harry and the incident with Ramsay, the thought of any man being near her made her queasy, but now all she wants is for someone to wrap her up in their arms and just hold her. It’s a silly thought, probably born out of all those Disney movies she used to watch as a kid, but it’s there anyways, niggling at the back of her mind as she walks down the beach.

The air is humid and makes her hair stick to the back of her neck but there’s a cool breeze coming from the ocean that eases the humidity. She’s nearing the edge of the hotel’s property when she hears someone call out her name. Sansa turns and squints against the darkness.

“You shouldn’t be walking out here alone,” he says, jogging up to her. “It’s not safe.”

“Jon,” she breathes out, her whole body instantly relaxing at the sight of him. “I was just… clearing my head.”

He nods, grey eyes watching her carefully, before his cheeks flush. “Your viewers seem to like me.”

“You watched it?” Sansa asks, a little incredulous. She turns the camera off and puts it back into her bag.

“I always watch your videos, Sans.” He sounds so casual but the pink flush spreading across his cheeks makes her think this is anything other than casual. It’s unfairly adorable.

“I didn’t… know that,” she says slowly, unsure of what else to say now. “I can take it down if you don’t want anyone to see. Jeyne edited it so I didn’t really get a final say before she uploaded the video.”

Jon shakes his head. “It’s okay. It was funny.”

“Yeah,” Sansa says with a cheeky smile. “You and that man looked really good together on camera.”

He sighs and runs a hand through his dark hair. “You’re never going to let that go, are you?”

“Never,” she agrees, smiling even brighter.

“Figures,” he mumbles, chuckling softly. “You know… we looked good together too.”

“What?” Sansa’s heart all but stops. She’s not really sure what to say or what he’s implying.

Jon takes a couple steps closer to her till they’re only a foot apart. “I wish I knew,” he murmurs softly. “Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted everyone’s time pretending I still didn’t care.”

“Jon, what are you talking about?”

“Do you want to know why Ygritte and I broke up?” he asks instead, which really annoys her, and if she isn’t already so close to coming completely undone she would kick him for being so cryptic.

“It started a couple months ago,” Jon continues when she doesn’t answer. He’s looking at her warily and it’s making her heart beat faster and faster. “Or maybe earlier, I don’t know. But when I found out what was happening to you with that Ramsay guy, I was just – it was all I could think about. Robb and I would spend hours researching what legal action you could take. We’d take turns driving past your flat and making sure you were safe. I was so worried out of my mind that I guess I just neglected Ygritte. And when she tried to bring it up, I snapped at her. I was furious that she couldn’t understand how important this was, how it was you.”

Sansa doesn’t really know anymore if she’s breathing. She wonders if she might’ve just wandered into the ocean and died because this is too surreal. This is Jon telling her she means as much to him as he means to her.

“Once Ramsay was arrested, I promised her I’d get better but it was like – for over a year, I was so sure I was in love with Ygritte. She was great in every way, but…” Jon pauses to glance towards the ocean. “The thought that someone could hurt you and take you away from me suddenly made me realise that I never did move on. And I think after awhile Ygritte figured that out too.”

He looks back at her then and takes her hand in his. “I don’t deserve you but I just need to know if there’s even a chance you feel the same way or if I completely misread the signs in that video and made a total prick of myself. If I did, I promise I’ll never bring this up again and we can go back to –”

Sansa cuts him off by pressing her lips against his. He freezes at first but then his hands go immediately around her and she’s wrapping her own arms around his neck, carding her fingers through his hair. It’s everything she ever wanted and so much more because it’s not just a kiss, it’s a confirmation that Jon really is hers and has always been hers and will forever be hers.

“God, I love you so much,” she admits quietly when they pull apart. “But you really are an idiot.”

“I know,” he chuckles. “And I’m sorry it took me this long to get here.”

“You’re here now,” she tells him, dropping a chaste kiss to his lips just because she can.

“I am… and for the record, I fucking love you too.”

++++

Aromanticbabex: I can’t decide if I want to climb Robb or Jon like a tree. Maybe both together? Anyone else?

2019 likes

           Alison Lowe: I would let them do ungodly things to me

           Superwholock: You guys are gross (but if I had to choose, I’d choose Robb!)

           R0cket Racoon: Uhhhh, are you serious? It’s Jon all the way!

           Sansa Stark: Can you guys please stop trying to climb my brother and my boyfriend? (Also, Jon all the way indeed ;)) xxx

Wonder Starks: I think I peed myself laughing watching Robb try to give Jon ‘The Talk’!!!

1938 likes

           Wonder Starks: Also, how cute is Jon surprising Sansa with a holiday! I wish someone would fucking whisk me away from these exams! Where’s my grump in shining armour!

           Dasha Santos: Seriously, where’s my fucking grump!!!1!@£@!$£!!!

Tom Hart: JONSA IS REAL!!!!!! MY OTP ARE ON HOLIDAY TOGETHER!! I BETTER BE INVITED TO YOUR FUTURE WEDDING, SANSA! I TOTALLY COINED YOUR SHIP NAME!!

1903 likes

           Dani Johnson: I’m not crying you’re crying!!! T_T

           2Slow Veryfurious: This is the best Christmas present ever!!

           Arya Stark: You guys need to get a fucking grip.

           Jeyne Poole: Don’t be rude, Arya. This has been in the making for like seven years!! Do you know how tired I was of hearing her pine away for him?

           Robb Stark: Ugh, do YOU GUYS know how tiring it was for ME to watch my best friend stare longingly at my baby sister? That’s way worse!

           Arya Stark: That’s because you think Sansa and I are like 12

           Robb Stark: But you are…

           Robb Stark: Arya?

           Jeyne Poole: I think she left, idiot.

           Robb Stark: Oi, don’t call me an idiot or I won’t take you out on that date!

           Jeyne Poole: I NEVER EVEN SAID YES!!

           Robb Stark: The lady doth protest too much ;)

           Robb Stark: Jeyne?

           Robb Stark: Oh goddamnit.

           Tom Hart: OH MY GOD! REYNE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Okay, so I haven’t been able to get this post by @voltron-messenger out of my head for the past few days, so to get out of my writing slump, I wrote my own adaptation of it…

Keep reading

Auston Matthews - Part 29

Really long… preparing for more angry messages and asks…

I stare at my phone screen a long time, my fingers hovering over my keyboard with Auston’s name at the stop of my screen. Stifling a groan I click my screen off and throw myself back onto my bed. Ever since Mitch texted me earlier today all I can think about is Auston and the fact that he hasn’t talked to me. I don’t think he would have let Mitch text me unless he was okay with it, but he hasn’t texted, called or snapped me in the last three days.

               Does he even care anymore? I think to myself and quickly shake the thought out of my head. Of course he cares. Auston may not have said it, but I know he cares about me just as much I care about him. I just need to be patient. I spent the last twenty-one years of my life without him, I can stand a few more days.

               My phone rings on the pillow next to my ear and I nearly roll off the bed. I fumble with the screen and finally accept the call.

               “Hello?” I say.

               “Hi, honey,” my dad’s rough voice comes through the other end and I can’t help but smile.

               “Hi, dad! What’s going on?”

               “Still plan on picking me up at the airport tomorrow morning?” He asks.

               “Yep, bright and early at 8:15,” I repeat what my mother told me on the phone yesterday morning.

               “Good girl, you’re going with me to the game on Tuesday with me, right?” My dad asks, a little bit of hesitation in his voice.

               “Yeah? Why wouldn’t I?” I ask him, frowning at the ceiling.

               “Hey I don’t know! You moved out, didn’t know if that meant you were too cool for me or something,” he says defensibly and I giggle.

               “You’re safe dad, we already know I’m cooler than you yet I still choose to spend time with you,” I say, rolling my eyes.

               We chat a bit more until three o’clock hits and the Leaf’s game comes on, being one who can’t talk to anymore while watching hockey, I hang up with my dad and snuggle down into my couch with Zalla and Andie. This is the Leaf’s last game on their short road trip and the first night of a back to back, coming home to play the Blues tomorrow. While my dad primarily works for the Red Wings, he travels around looking at other team’s prospects and possible trade bait, which is why he’s coming when St. Louis is in town.

               I had debated whether or not to watch the Leafs after Auston left, but it was the only way I didn’t feel quite so alone in this big house in a big city. Though I don’t cheer when they score, I just watch, much like my first game in Toronto with Auston’s family. My mind wanders to Mitch’s message about coming over when they get home, being a Sunday, their game is early and they will be home early tonight. I debate with myself if Auston will come with him or not. I highly doubt he would come, but I can’t help but get my hopes up.

               The game ends in overtime with the Hawks scoring just seconds in, a score of three to two. The urge to text or call Auston is almost overwhelming and let out a wail of despair when my phone goes off but it’s only a snapchat from my friend. I miss him. I miss him so much.

               Auston POV

               I stare at my lock screen as I board the bus to bring us to the airport. It’s the picture I took of Y/N when she was getting her dress fitted on her second day in Toronto. The background is a blur, only her smiling face and body in focus. I puff out a small laugh that despite everything, nothing has changed, this picture was accurate then and it still is now.

               When my screen lights up and starts ringing, I nearly jump. Looking around to see if anyone notices when I put the phone to my ear.

               “Hey,” I say after making sure everyone in a few seat radius is occupied with something else.

               “Hey, so I was able to track down Y/L/N before he went home. Looked like a fucking idiot walking around the Joe asking by the way,” Dylan’s voice says through the receiver.

               “Great, can you text it to me? I’ll call him right when we land in Toronto,” I mutter into the phone, sinking down a little in my seat.

               “Sure…” Dylan pauses on the other line like he wants to say something else.

               “What?” I ask him.

               “It’s just… does this have something to do about Y/N? We heard she moved to Toronto a few weeks ago, and I know you… ya know…” Dylan trails off.

               I don’t say anything and Dylan sighs.

               “I knew it. Look, I know you have a thing for her and she probably does you, but just… take care of her. I got to know her more last season before she got heavily involved in school stuff, she’s a great girl… very much like her dad just prettier,” Dylan laughs and I find I’m able to smile.

               “I know Larks, she told me about you actually. Something about falling down the stairs and blaming the black eye on a high sti-“ I snicker into the phone and he cuts me off.

               “Alright that’s enough story time. In my defense it was both the high stick and the combined falling that resulted in the black eye,” Dylan grumbles into the phone and I roll my eyes.

               “Whatever, bud. But really, thanks for hunting him down for me,” I say seriously.

               “No problem, bud. Good luck,” he responds and we hang up. Instantly I get the phone number in a text and quickly save it. As the bus pulls up to the airport I mumble what I have planned to say over and over again as we board the plane and set off towards home. Towards Y/N.

               Regular POV

               Mitch sends me a text as soon as they land and I send in a phone order for delivery from my new favorite Chinese buffet who, I recently discovered, deliver. He mentioned that it’s him and two others coming, who he doesn’t name.

               By the time they arrive it’s close to eight, coming directly from the airport. I don’t bother to get up from my place on the couch when they file in, too absorbed in my sweet and sour chicken. I scan the faces and turn my attention back to my plate when I don’t see the one I was looking for. Mitch, Morgan and Will shuffle to their respective spots they all claimed within the first few weeks of discovering my house. Mitch is in the chair beside me, Will is sprawled out on the sectional with the footrest and Morgan is sitting on the floor with his back against the couch by my knees.

               Almost instantly I relax for the first time in three days and realize how incredibly tired I am. These thoughts are validated by Morgan glancing up at me after thanking me for his meal.

               “Have you slept in twenty years?” He asks, a teasing tone in his voice and I scowl at him.

               “Count to twenty and I’ll answer,” I reply sweetly and he scoffs at me.

               “Good to be home, smartass.”

               I nudge him with my foot and he flicks it with his finger making me squeal with the sting. Quickly, we fall back into the usual banter, I make Mitch go wash his hands before he even thinks about touching the Xbox controller and he huffs at me muttering under his breath as he makes his way to the bathroom.

               No one mentions Auston and I don’t bring him up either. Soon enough, I doze off to sleep, my head on the armrest and my legs stretched out to almost where Will is sitting. I startle awake around three in the morning from an insignificant dream and blink in the darkness, disoriented. I move to sit up but realize there’s a blanket across me and my heart warms. Glancing around now that my eyes have adjusted, I can see Mitch reclined in the chair and Morgan on the other end of the couch where Will had been. I can hear Will’s soft snore coming from down the hall in the spare bedroom that I had thought I would be able to convert into an office but I had to put a bed in there instead thanks to a certain hockey player falling down my stairs one night after having a little too much to drink.  

               All of them seemed to have found blankets for themselves as well and their quiet breathing is reassuring. They stayed with me. My heart blooms and I snuggle back down onto my spot, sleep coming easy again.

               A few hours later I tip toe around them, heading upstairs to shower and get ready to head to the airport to pick up my dad. Zalla and Andie seem to have learned how to tip toe as well as they slink across the hardwood floors, being my shadows like usual. When I pull my shirt on my bracelet jingles on my wrist, I had thought about taking it off the last few days, but I found too much comfort in the strong band and beautiful charms. I finger the charms gently as I make my way downstairs and sneak through the foyer and out my front door without waking a single one of the boys.

               Zalla and Andie come with me, I know they miss dad as much as I do. They seem to sense my excitement as I drive closer and closer to the airport, their whines echoing in the backseat. Right as I pull into the pickup area my phone goes off.

               “I’m outside, honey,” my dad’s voice comes through the car speaker and I think my dogs are going to combust in the backseat.

               “I see you!” I squeal as I make the small loop and put my car into park before jumping out and into my father’s waiting arms.

               “Hi, baby girl,” my dad coos in my ear, I think he’s just as emotional as I am. Happy tears trail down my face as he lifts me off my feet, his arms right around me. I inhale deeply, taking in the husky and smoky smell of my dad and our wood stove from home.

               “I missed you,” I whisper and he laughs.

               “I gathered that,” he sets me down and puts his hands on my shoulder, examining me. “How you doing? Big girl in a big city,” he winks at me and I giggle.

               “I’m good, dad. It’s been a learning process. I now understand why mom never let me buy and eat an entire birthday cake myself.”

               “Ahh yes, that was the first lesson I learned too,” he wraps an arm round my shoulders and leads me back to my car where my dogs are quivering with excitement. “You brought the girls!” He exclaims and leaves me on the sidewalk like a piece of gum, diving into the backseat and being licked to death by Zalla and Andie. I don’t blame him though, I would have done the same thing.

               By the time we get back to the house, the boys are gone and for once the living room is spotless. I smile at the room and give my dad a tour of the now unpacked house, spending the rest of the day showing and telling him everything I’ve been working on at the university.

               Once we get to the arena there are hardly any people milling around yet. But that’s what happens when you get there two and a half hours before the puck drops. My father is familiar with the arena and leads the way through the bowels of the Air Canada Center, sticking close behind him and avoiding looking anywhere but at his back.

               Every time my father stops to talk to someone, I reach up to the ball cap I had thrown on before leaving the house and pull it a little farther down my head. No one my father stops says anything to me, which I’m used to from my years of following him around as a child. It isn’t until we turn down a hallway to head to the elevator that someone acknowledges me.

               “Mike, how are you?” My dad exclaims, clasping hands with the Leafs head coach. I can’t help but peek up at him, my dad and he had worked closely together over the years until Babs left Detroit to take on Toronto, growing up I had been close with one of his daughters when we were dragged by our dads to various games and practices.

               They make small talk a minute before Mike notices me standing behind my dad’s shoulder.

               “Y/N! I didn’t see you there. Heard you’re doing some big things in the Astrophysics department,” Mike winks at me and my cheeks warm with the smile forming across my face.

               “That she is,” my dad says, squeezing my shoulder, a proud look on his face that I beam under.

               “I heard you’ve been here over a month and haven’t come to visit me yet,” Mike quirks an eyebrow at me.

               ‘I’ve been here!” I gesture to where I know the family room is down the hall before I realize what I’m doing and I try to play if off as fixing my hat. My dad and Mike both raise their eyebrows at me. “Don’t give me that look,” I blush under their stares and look away.

               “She’s got a point Mike, she has been here,” my dad says, smirking at Mike and I scowl.

               “I’m surprised she admitted it,” Mike adds, both of them clearly enjoying themselves.

               “Shouldn’t you be yelling at your players or something,” I mutter and he laughs.

               “Only if they piss me off, Y/N,” he says, though he does glance at his watch. “Though I do have other things to get going besides yelling.” He shakes my dad’s hand and pats my shoulder. “I look forward to seeing you after the game, and you,” Mike then directs his attention to me. “I look forward to seeing you around here more often as well.” I make a noise in the back of my throat and nod at him with his knowing smile on his face.

               We head back down the hallway to elevator right when a group of boys rounds the corner in front of us. I immediately see Mitch and I know Auston will be right behind him. I duck into my father’s side and try to stay in his shadow praying that no one notices me.

               “Y/L/N!” Someone shouts behind me and both my father and I whip around on instinct. Babcock is standing down the hallway we just left, leaning against a door frame, a smirk on his face.

               “Ms. Y/L/N, to be exact. I forgot to comment on your hat, looks better than red and white in my opinion,” he says and I can feel the stares of nearly everyone in the hallway. Frowning, I reach up to the ball cap and pull it off my head. I turn it in my hands a Toronto Maple Leafs logo glares up at me, I hold it at arm’s length away much to amusement of the people watching me. What the…?

               “Now the real question is, are you going to put it back on?” Mike winks at me and then disappears into the door frame he had been standing in.

               I look from where he had been standing back to the hat and eye it warily. Turning on my heel I continue walking slowly with my dad, growing closer and closer to the group of guys still watching me. When I’m within fifteen of them I huff out a small laugh and plop the hat back on my head, adjusting my pony tail.

               “Where did I go wrong?” My dad muses beside me and I smile at him, continuing to ignore the gawking Leafs players to my right. They had been trying since I got to Toronto to get me to wear some sort of Leafs gear and apparently one of them had left a hat one night and I grabbed it by mistake.

               “Nineteen years ago when you showed me the sky,” I say back to him and he laughs softly, putting his arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my head.

               “Then I wouldn’t change a thing,” he says and I squeeze his hand. Here is the only boy that would love me no matter what I did.

               My dad takes me up to the scouting booth where much of the Leafs front office people are. He talks with Brendan Shanahan for a few moments as I make my way to one of the free seats and try to ignore everyone around me. It used to amaze me that my dad worked and knew all these people, now I just want to watch hockey.

               We have to wait quite a while longer before the actual game starts and nearly the entire time my dad is either talking to someone in person or on the phone. I take the free time to people watch as fans file in, I start making a mental list of how many Matthews jerseys I see. I lose count very quickly.

               The game wears on, a nail bitter to the very end, even though the Leafs are up by two after an empty netter with two minutes left. With a final score of six to four in the Leafs favor, everyone leaves happy. My dad looks at his watch and mutters to himself, rubbing his face.

               “What are you thinking about?” I ask him, he only every does that when he’s stressed.

               “What? Nothing, just we have a little time before my flight leaves. Want to get some dinner?” He asks standing up and gathering his laptop and notes.

               “It’s almost ten…” I stare at him.

               “I didn’t say we have to go an eight course meal, Y/N,” my dad laughs. “I just need something to hold me over before my short flight home to your mother.”

               “Alright,” I sigh, standing next to him and stretching, my hand brushes against the hat and I smile.

               I drive my dad through Toronto as he looks for someplace we wants to eat and he finally decides on the restaurant that I went to with Auston’s family on my very first night here. As I sit down at a table just a short distance away from where I sat then, I almost feel the bracelet heat on my wrist. I touch the charms as my dad busies himself with the menu.

               “You seem awfully intrigued by that bracelet, Y/N,” my dad says, not even looking up from his menu. Okay, maybe he’s not as busy as I thought.

               I shrug my shoulders and put my hands on my lap.

               “Let me see,” my dad presses, putting his menu down and reaching towards me. I obey and place my wrist on the table in front of him, he gently lifts it and examines the little dangles.

               “This middle one is quite extravagant,” he muses, touching the blue and gold one. “Who gave you that one?”

               “Auston,” I mutter, my cheeks flaming and my dad chuckles.

               “Should have guessed,” he whispers more to himself than to me and I frown at him. I hadn’t mentioned anything about Auston to either of my parents, though my mom suspected it, I had never confirmed anything. Before I can ask, he puts my wrist back on the table and pats my hand before turning his attention back to the menu.

               “You’re being weird today,” I tell him, picking up my own menu.

               “What else is new?” He asks, not looking at me and I nod in agreement.

               Once I’m able to get him to leave and into the car towards the airport, I finally ask.

               “Is there a reason you didn’t want to go back to my house before your flight?”

               “What are you talking about? We were already out, no need to go all the way home and then back in just under two hours.” He’s talking fast and avoiding my eye contact. I pull up to a stop light and eye him.

               “Dad… I live less than fifteen minutes from the airport…” I quirk an eyebrow at him and he squirms in his seat, thankfully I got my poker face from my mama. “You just going to avoid my eye contact the rest of the way?”

               My dad turns his head slightly towards me and opens his mouth but seems to think better of it and looks forward again. “Yes.” He says and I sigh at him.

               We ride in silence the rest of the way until I pull to a stop outside the entrance, it’s a ghost town, not a person in sight. Sadness aches in my chest, it had been so nice having my dad with me all day, it kept my mind off of things. Now that he’s leaving and I have to go back to an empty house, a sadness comes over me.

               “Are you positive you and mom can’t just move here?” I ask him, tears in my eyes.

               “Oh, Y/N, as much as we miss you… I think you’re doing just fine on your own, baby,” he reaches across the console and wraps his arms around me. I lean into him and nuzzle my face into his neck.

               “But I miss you,” I whine and he laughs.

               “I think there are quite a few things you would miss in Toronto if you were to leave,” he whispers and I can hear more behind his words.

               “You’re going great kid, I’m proud of you,” he squeezes me once more before letting me go and reaching into the backseat for his briefcase.

               “Love you,” I say as he climbs out of the car.

               “Love you so much more,” he answers and winks at me, closing the door gently and tapping the roof.

               I blow him one more kiss and wait until he gets inside the airport to pull away. A few tears fall during my short ride home. I had thought having my dad here, even for a day, would make me feel so much better and now that he’s gone, I feel a hundred times worse and even more homesick. Even when I pull into my driveway, I can’t get myself to climb out and walk inside for another ten minutes.

               When I finally get myself composed, I step out of the car and trudge through the snow to my front door, not even noticing the other car sitting in my driveway. I fumble with my keys at the door, I realize my porch lights aren’t on. I tap the glass around the out light bulb and stop myself. That is exactly how horror movies start out, dumbass. Finally getting the door open I step in and close the door behind me before I even realize that the lamp that I always keep on in the foyer is also off.

               I hear a snap and suddenly there’s a light near my feet and I squeal, whipping around and pressing my back to the door looking around in a panic. Looking down at the floor I’m surprised not to see some half eaten zombie crawling towards me but a rope of what looks light white Christmas lights, which lead through the foyer and into the hallway behind it.

               I eye the lights for a minute and taking a deep breath, I step forward.

Highly Recommended

“Hey,” Mike says casually one morning, dropping onto the couch and flipping open a file. “Can you write me a letter of recommendation?”

There’s nothing but silence in the room - No typing or tapping of a pen or even breathing, which is strange. Harvey’s been loud and clear with his behavior, but maybe he didn’t think Mike had the balls.

“Anywhere in particular?” he asks calmly.

Mike shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about investment banking. Learned enough about M and A I’d guess.”

“Sure.”

The continuing silence convinces Mike to look up in a way no amount of argument could have. Harvey has no facial expression, not anger or sadness, though a muscle twitches in his jaw, and there’s something strange about the way he’s sitting, tight and too still.

“Harvey?” he asks softly. “Can you?”

Shaking himself, Harvey nods. “Sure. Should be done before you leave.”

“Cool. thanks.”

He nods curtly. “You’re welcome. Now get.”

“Right.” It wasn’t like he was expecting some dramatic last supper. A few paces past Donna’s desk he imagines the sound of glass shattering, and when he whirls around, Harvey’s standing, fists clenched to his sides, deep inhales shifting his shoulders, but he’s facing the window. There’s no way to tell -

“What did you do?” she asks, soft, no judgement.

“It’s time.”

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Exo When their S/O has a tattoo and they try to hide it

Originally posted by junmyeonstuff

Suho:

Junmyeon definitely strikes me as the traditional type.  Here’s the thing, though, he’s practically lived his whole life surrounded by people with tattoos of both genders.  At this point, he’s use to it by now.  So when he discovers that you also have a tattoo, he might be initially surprised by it, but it isn’t going to change the way he thinks about you.  In fact, I feel like Junmyeon would be the type to really enjoy and marvel at the super colorful and aesthetically pleasing tattoos, bonus points if it’s watercolor!  There’s just something super artistic about it that he would think it only enhances your beauty.  Junmyeon will wonder why you were so adamantly trying to keep it from him, but once you explain it was because you knew Korean society wasn’t too hot on them, he’d tell you not to pay any attention to their standards.  “Jagiyah, you’re dating me, not the whole of Korea.   I happen to really like your tattoo.  I’ll even go with you if you want to get another one.  Honestly, you’re beautiful no matter what.”

Originally posted by dazzlingkai

Xiumin:

KINK ALERT! KINK ALERT!  I don’t know why, but Minseok strikes me as someone who has a tattoo kink.  Like maybe not a super hardcore one, but enough to where it’s definitely a turn on.  You’ll stretch your arms over your head casually after a long movie marathon, your shirt riding up enough to expose the colorful tattoo resting on the inside of your hip.  BAM! Minseok would be transfixed!  He’ll ask you when you got it and all the subsequent questions that go along with such a discovery.  Don’t worry too much if he seems lost in that beautiful head of his or if his eyes kind of glaze over, he’s just playing though some fantasies, he’ll be back.  Your tattoo will become his new favorite part of your body.  He’ll flower bruises all around it, kiss it, nip at it, trace it (fingers, tongue–whatever he’s feeling at the time tbh), etc.  It’s in such a place that he doesn’t have to worry about it being found by anyone else, but dear lord, please do not make the mistake of showing it off to anyone else (even by accident).  That is for his eyes only and he’ll make sure you know.  “Jagi, you were trying to hide this from me?  But I love your tattoo!   Do I need to show you how much?”

Originally posted by laygion

Lay:

This muffin seems like he might be more on the traditional side, but honestly, Yixing will love his s/o no matter what.  I think it will be super surprising for him.  He wasn’t expecting to catch a glimpse of anything on your shoulder, but there it was as clear as day.  It will definitely take a moment to register what exactly it is his eyes are seeing, down to that adorable ‘o’ face he’s so famous for, but the second you go to pull on a sweater or cover it up with your hands, this guy will be swatting your hands out of the way so he can have a closer look.  He’ll ask questions about it, curiosity being a given, but Yixing is an absolute sweetheart, so more than anything he’ll want to know if it had been a painful experience.  To him that’s all that matters.  He just wants you to be safe and sound, so the prospect of you going through something so seemingly painful (even if it was by choice) would startle him.  If you said you were planning on getting more, his reaction would probably mirror panic. “What?  You want more?  How many?  No, no, of course I don’t mind, Baobei, but it hurts, right?  Are you sure it’s something you really want to do?”

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3

Chapter One
Björn Ironside X Reader

Your father, King Ecbert of Wessex, hadn’t told you about the arrival of the Viking Ragnar Lothbrok to the castle. But then again, he never told you anything, believing that you were as unimportant as the servants. He hadn’t cared for your mother either. Always more of a fan of your sister in law Judith, they’d lain together multiple times and you couldn’t understand how your brother was alright with it. But as soon as your mother died he payed less attention to you and didn’t even really acknowledge your existence. As soon as he started having meetings with Ragnar Lothbrok, he got Athelstan to teach you Norse, but no one told you why. If you had then you wouldn’t have done it. You learnt languages quickly because you had nothing else to do. So you were now fluent in Norse but had no idea what words were specific to their culture.

A few months after their first meetings, you were invited into the throne room. Greeted by the same bright blue eyes of the Viking. He looked at you carefully and now you could see a tall blonde man behind him, along with the usual entourage that came with him. Your father beckoned you over and after a side glare at him, you walked over to him.

“This is my daughter, Princess Y/n.” Your father smiled and you saw the blonde boy fidget slightly.

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Why I think Eurus knew that Sherlock was in love with Molly

I think we can all agree on the fact that Eurus had no interest in hearing Molly Hooper say the words ‘I love you’. 

She wanted Sherlock to say it. Like Mycroft says: ‘This is all about you. Everything here’. She went as far as engraving the words on the coffin, placed artfully in the middle of the wall for all to see. Like the title at the top of a music sheet. Not so dumb an image. In that room, I felt that she played Sherlock like she would an instrument (the countdown set up the pace of her musical composition and, like a true conductor, she would be in charge of the tone of the piece ”Softer, Sherlock”). 

But I digress. As I said, the lid of the coffin is a dramatic way of announcing what was to come. This was more than an I Love You scene. This was The I Love You Test. 

Sherlock’s test.

Now. And this is where it gets quite good.

If hurting both Sherlock and Molly by making her believe that he was in love with her but actually wasn’t was the purpose, Eurus could have just urged him to say the words to save her life by changing the deal to:

Molly must say ‘I love you too’.

In fact, that would have been ideal. Sherlock would have been horrified at the prospect. Perhaps once and for all associating love with destruction and it being the ultimate emotional manipulation. He would have said I love you, we know he would have. He would have done anything to save her, as we all witnessed.

Three possible outcomes:

  1. He says it and doesn’t mean it: Molly is happy and says the words back. She’s saved. But Sherlock loses her forever in the aftermath.
  2. He says it and doesn’t mean it. Molly doesn’t believe him and therefore doesn’t say it back. More likely since she can see ‘through his bullshit’. As we know, there was no bomb. She is still saved. But Sherlock loses her forever in the aftermath.
  3. He says it and means it and Molly says it back. They live happily ever after and have plenty of babies.

Actually, I’m fine with option 3 😂

But no.

Eurus didn’t do it like that. She sees things ´beyond the scope’. She knew Molly would want Sherlock to say it first. Say it like he means it. As many of you noticed, Eurus aka The Therapist heard John mention that Molly would be able to tell. Eurus doesn’t understand love, or what it looks like. Unlike Molly, I am personally unaware if she is able to see through Sherlock’s acting skills at first glance. 

Choosing Molly is a smart choice. 

Not only because I truly believe Eurus suspects she is Sherlock’s hidden heart, his overlooked pressure point, but also because Molly would be the only one able to confirm if yes or no, he really meant it. Or at the very least sounded like he did. Molly Hooper is Eurus’ very own living and breathing lie-detector. Perfect to confirm her suspicions. If the cameras have been there for a while, she probably witnessed Sherlock coming in and out of Molly’s house and take her bed. That enigmatic out-of-the-blue anecdote finally makes sense if you see it that way. She suspects that Sherlock is in love with Molly Hooper. He just doesn’t know it yet. The I Love You Test, him saying the words, is evil and perfect for her emotionally constipated brother to come to the same conclusion.

In fact, when Molly orders him to say the words first, Sherlock does a double take and turns automatically to his sister. As if to say: So this is what you were after.  

From a villain’s perspective, this is by far the best option for Eurus to spread havoc in her wake and make her point. As we could see, both parties ended up miserable. Molly thinks Sherlock made fun of her and Sherlock must now deal with waaay more feelings than he thought he had before entering the room. Not to mention the fact that he hurt a very dear friend and perhaps lost the woman he might just be in love with. A love hidden in plain sight. Well, he always misses something, doesn’t he?

And worse? It was all for nothing. His sister knows this is the best way to get to him. Push the right buttons. Break the walls he so carefully constructed around himself ever since Redbeard. A point of no return.

Mark Gatiss said it: Molly is ‘very Key’. The one person that mattered, that counted, that could ultimately make Sherlock Holmes scream in despair. Destroy a coffin with his bare hands out of helplessness, rage, confusion, sorrow. 

The coffin is a nice analogy, actually. 

By breaking the coffin, by tuning out everything else and expressing his agony over hurting someone he deeply cared about, he marked the demise of his former self. Forever gone is the High-Functioning Sociopath, for all the world to see. Molly is The Key. Eurus opened him up with it. With her. Vivisection. You go, Eurus. You’re horrible. But thank you 😊

Lastly, I will add that yes, I do believe he does love her in a romantic way. Why? 

From a pure storytelling point of view, suggesting otherwise would mean Eurus (and the writers) have been staging the hell of a show just so he would admit to something that everybody already knew. That he loves her as a friend. ‘You’re my friend, we’re friends.’ Would be a bit anti-climatic, don’t you think?

If anything, I think this episode was about confirming as well as exposing Sherlock’s love in every shape or form to the audience.

Familial = > Mycroft (last test of Sherrinford), Rosie (proud, tender and playful godfather at the end of the episode) and Eurus (Seek my Room). 

Friendship = > John (the well), Mrs. Hudson, (whom he wants to protect from the explosion at 221B), Victor (he had a best friend in his early years and loved him very much), Lestrade (he calls him Greg).

Sexual History (perhaps romantic?) => Irene (the music he composed for her on his violin).

Romantic love => Molly (I love you).

I will conclude with BC’s words that sum up Sherlock’s growth quite well throughout The Final Problem. And in hindsight, what ‘Sherlock’ has been about since Day One:

Love Conquers All.

Request: “An imagine where reader and Opie have a one night stand and the reader leaves Charming for 3 years and return with a baby that is Ope’s.”

SO MANY EMOTIONS!

———————–

You’d grown up around SAMCRO, considering your father was a first nine member. You grew up with Opie and Jax, all of you trying to juggle being kids of the first nine. All three of you were raised to live the SAMCRO life, never being shielded from anything. While Opie and Jax took their roles and ran with them, becoming prospects as soon as they were old enough, you chose a different path.

You decided to move off from Charming and be something other than a part of SAMCRO. It would always be a part of you, and you loved every member with your whole heart. You were always an adventurer though, and you wanted to experience something other than the life you had been accustomed to. Of course, SAMCRO wasn’t going to let you go off without one last family dinner at Gemma’s house.

           Pulling up to Gemma’s, you could see that everyone else was already there, starting your party without you. You laughed and shook your head as you got out of your car, heading inside after greeting the few members who stood outside. “My baby girl,” you heard Gemma say as she wrapped her arms around you. Gemma was not blessed with a daughter, so you were treated as her own from the time you were born.

           “Hey Gem,” you said, returning the hug before being led into the living room. “The guest of honor is here,” Chibs announced, pulling you into a hug and giving you a kiss on the cheek. Hoops and hollers were heard all around as you were passed around for hugs and kisses. It made you feel a mixture of feelings. These people had been all you knew since you were born, and you were about to leave them.

           The dinner was spent sharing stories about your dad and you, with everyone drinking and eating. After the party was dying down, you walked out to the back of Gemma’s house to get some air. “Fancy seein’ you here,” you said to Opie as you sat down next to him on the steps. You smirked at him while taking a drink of the beer you had in your hand. “When you leavin’?” he asked, looking up at you.

           You shrugged, “Sometime in the morning, no specific time really”

           He sighed before standing up, “Why are you even going, Y/N?”

Out of everyone, he had been the one who didn’t handle it the best, not understanding why you would leave the only family you knew.

You rolled your eyes, “There’s more out there than SAMCRO, Ope. This is my family, but I’m not meant to stay here and be someone’s old lady. I’m just not, I refuse.”

He went to walk away when you grabbed his hand, “No. You don’t get to leave like that. I am not leaving tomorrow with us like this, Ope. I can’t.” He stopped so you continued, “Take me for a ride.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked, leading you towards his bike.

You shrugged, “anywhere.”

——–

The reservation didn’t look any different than you had remembered. A lone tree casted shade over you and Opie as you sat together. There had always been attraction between the two of you, and if you were being honest, you’d probably miss him more than anyone.

           “I know you don’t want me to go,” you told him.

           “I don’t, but I guess I can’t stop you,” he said.

           “You can’t,” you agreed.

The two of you sat there like that for what seemed like forever. You couldn’t help but look at Opie and take it in, this being the last time you’d see him for a while. Maybe that’s why you grabbed his face and kissed him with every ounce of passion you had in your body, him returning the kiss immediately. “You sure about this?” he asked you, leaning over you as you laid back. You nodded and he leaned down to kiss you again.

———-

*3 years later*

“Mommy!” Y/K/N screamed from the backseat. You smiled and continued making faces at the toddler in the car seat behind you as you drove past the “Welcome to Charming Sign.” You had gotten the call last night that Bobby had died, and Gemma suggested you come be with your dad and the rest of the crew.

You had left Charming three years ago, and despite a few fleeting phone calls, you never came back to visit really, the reason being in the backseat at the moment. You tried to get a babysitter, but there was no luck, so here you were, headed to the place you grew up.

You felt sick at your stomach as you parked your car and moved to get your child from the backseat.  Walking into Gemma’s house, you smiled at the familiarity of it all but the nervousness was still there as you were solemnly greeted by the SAMCRO men in the living room.

“Hey baby,” Gemma said, eyeing the toddler in your arms before hugging you.

“I know I know I should’ve told you, but,” you paused, “it’s complicated.”

“Mhmm,” she said, “How old’s the kid?” She reached out to hold him/her.

“Three,” you stated only to gasp as Opie grabbed your arm, walking out the back door with you in tow.

“What are you doing?!” you yelled, jerking your arm away from him.

“That kid in there is three years old?” he asked, running his hands through his hair.

Tears filled your eyes, “Yes.”

“Is he mine, Y/N?” he asked.

You shook your head as a sob broke out, “He is. I’m so sorry Ope.”

He nodded his head, “Yeah, me too.” Silence ensued for a long time after that.

“God, please say something,” you begged, tears rolling down your face.

“What do you want me to say?” he asked.

“Say anything, damnit Opie,” you told him.

“You kept my fucking kid from me, Y/N. I told you I didn’t even want you to leave, and you did. Then, you’re gone for three years with MY kid,” he seethed.

“I wanted to get away from all of this, and then the baby came and shit got super complicated. You were eighteen Ope and a prospect for the MC. You couldn’t handle a kid,” you said in an attempt to explain yourself.

Shaking his head, he walked a few steps away from you, “You don’t get to make that decision. That’s my kid too.”

“I was wrong,” you admitted, “but my intentions were good, Ope. I swear.”

“I missed a shit ton of stuff,” he said.

“Well, you don’t have to miss anymore,” you told him.

anonymous asked:

how about the Chocobros being tasked with rescuing a noble's/important person's child bc they've been kidnapped but once they get there they discover that the child is their s/o who hid their lineage from them?

Aiyyyeee, guess who’s back. Sorry for the few day hiatus, everyone. I’ve been swamped with school work and other projects, but I’ve wanted to write so badly— this prompt has been on my mind for a while now.

And speaking of such, I apologize to the anon who requested this as it’s long overdue, but from the moment I first saw it I knew it was going to be another big one. So I wanted to wait and give it the proper time it needs to be worthy of what I had imagined. 

Without further ado, the angst queen presents yet another series “Not Who You Think I Am” (that title is about as cliche as it gets, I know)

Enjoy lovelies~

—Leigh


Prologue

“The who?”

Noctis folded his arms across his chest, peering down at the old woman seated in her rickety chair. She rocked it casually, as if she were only talking about the weather. A voice shouted somewhere behind them— orders being given to soldiers— or hunters. Meldacio HQ was quite lively this Saturday afternoon.

The woman primly folded her fingers together in her lap. “The heir to the Gralean royal family, dear prince. I didn’t stutter.”

Prompto gaped beside him, “but the Gralean royal family? Isn’t that like Iedolas’ child or something?”

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To One Thing Constant

Beauty and the Beast College AU Chapter 1/? 

Based on the prompt ‘Imagine one half of your OTP reciting Romeo and Juliet under the other person’s window’

Basically, Adam and Belle catch feelings and everyone just tries to deal with the gratuitous Shakespeare references. 

Also on AO3 (x) (For my Klaroline shippers, there is also a fic based on this same prompt coming for that pairing)

“Surely you’re not intending to put the Adventure novels next to Geography and Travel?”

That does it.

Belle slammed the books she’d been carrying down onto the Library’s reading tables a tad louder than intended but if it has the desired effect she can’t find it in herself to regret it. Stalking across the floor, ignoring Mrs. Potts softly calling her name, Belle comes to a halt in front of her co-worker. Placing her hands on her hips, Belle glares at Adam who meets her murderous gaze with a coolly raised eyebrow over the rim of his Starbucks cup. When Belle had heard that the motherly Mrs. Potts was looking for someone to help re-organise the Campus Library she’d jumped at the chance to turn her favourite hobby into paid employment. What she hadn’t been counting on was the fact that would mean sharing a job with Adam Vendome, another student on her English Literature course and the bane of her existence.

Exceptionally attractive, rich and intelligent (as well as widely rumoured to be distantly related to the Kings of France) Adam is also exceptionally rude and obnoxious.

Whenever and whatever they debate in class Adam’s always needling her to justify her arguments and never seems to be satisfied with her answers, always asking for greater reasoning. He’d groaned loudly when she’d praised Romeo and Juliet during the class reading and the argument had continued all the way from the classroom to the Library to begin their shifts.

“It’s my favourite!”

“Ugh. Why is that not a surprise?”

“Excuse me?!”

“Well, all that pining and heartache,” he’d shuddered, face screwing up in disgust which Belle would’ve thought under any other circumstances was rather cute if he hadn’t been dragging her favourite play through the mud. “There’s so many other things to read”

“Like what?” she’d shot back, waiting to hear what author or work he thought could rival the Bard.

“I’m sure there’s something in here you could start with” he’d replied, holding the library door open for her and jerking his head in the direction of the books that awaited them. Belle had been brought up short, thrown by his cleverly broad answer and thoughtless chivalry, even when he was picking on her. None of the boys back home in Villeneuve acted like that.

The fact that they had mutual friends in Lumiere and Plumette made things even more awkward because then she had to deal with the piercing gaze of his blue eyes in the pub after class or the café where Plumette works as well as the Library stacks. If the eyes really are the windows to the soul, then Belle doesn’t know what to make of Adam. He has everything he could ever want; money, books, a house of his own off campus but sometimes she’ll catch sight of him and she can’t help but think that he looks like a man in torment.

Furthermore, he refuses to come to an agreement with her on the re-arrangement of the Library, sometimes due to being in different seminar groups for Cogsworth’s French history class, they’re not always on shift at the same time. As a result, she’s come into the stacks more than once to find him tutting to himself, arms laden with books he’s decided work better elsewhere. They have what is now a long standing feud over the Romances which Adam keeps trying to install in the back of the stacks with the Reference section no-one visits except on a blue moon. His piss-poor excuse is that it makes sense alphabetically.

And he has the nerve to criticise her organisational skills.

Paired with crazy hours, extensive word counts, looming deadlines and a best friend with a very active sex life Belle’s not sure she can take much more of this. And now he’s, what supervising her on his time off?! This last offence was the one that broke the Camel’s back as the saying goes because Belle isn’t the one who literally strolls into class five minutes late with Starbucks every day.

“Why not?” she demands, irritated at his fifth comment on her work ethic in as many minutes.

Adam looks genuinely surprised at the question, answering with his trademark tactlessness “Well, because they’re fiction.”

Belle takes a deep breath out through her nose, swallowing the urge to shout. She had never thought that someone as passionate about books as she was could annoy the living shit out of her but that was before she’d met Adam. She needs this job to help ease the struggle of university finances and as warm and wonderful as Mrs Potts is, she knows that the older woman would take none too kindly to a shouting match in the library.

A myriad of responses spring to mind but Belle dismisses them all. That she was perfectly aware of that thank you very much Captain Obvious, that she’d only been taking the books off the shelves and had been about to ask his opinion before he had questioned her judgement so condescendingly, that Adam’s technically not even on shift at the minute and surely he has better things to do than bother her. She had though that putting Adventure books next to those containing more detailed information about the real life locations the great events took place in seemed like a perfectly reasonable notion to her, but she’d been about to ask his opinion. Instead, Belle just let out a loud growl of frustration before turning on her heel and leaving the Library as if wolves were at her heels.

Adam stared wordlessly after her before turning to look at Mrs. Potts in disbelief. Mrs. Potts in her charming measured way, put down her teacup, shaking her head gently. “That didn’t go very well at all now did it?”

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ihaveaboxelf  asked:

Hey, if you are still doing prompts, would you mind writing an "undress" for javid please? Also I just want to say I really love your blog and writing :)

Thank you so much! Hope you like the fic :)


The first time, it was before they’d even slept together. In fact, they weren’t even dating. Jack was staying over at the Jacobs’ house and as far as Esther and Mayer knew there was no problem with him staying in Davey’s room. As far as Davey knew there was no problem. So Jack merrily stripped off his clothes mid-conversation and didn’t even bat an eyelid.

Davey tried not to stare, really he did. But he was a sixteen-year-old boy and he didn’t understand his hormones and there was suddenly a shirtless, attractive person in his room. His breathing got a little shallower and he was very aware of his hands and how awkward he felt. There were alarm bells ringing in his head, telling him to turn around and stop looking but he was too busy staring to pay attention. Eventually Jack turned gave him a quizzical look, and he knew it was time to get out. Stammering some vague response to Jack’s questioning of his health, Davey bundled up his pajamas and fled to change in the bathroom.

As soon as the door had clicked shut behind him, he rested his weight back against it and groaned. This wasn’t good.

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Friendship

‘‘Sarada.’‘

Sakura called out from her home office.

Normally she would be at the hospital at this time of day,but after receiving an email from Shino about Sarada’s recent behavior and a parent teacher meeting she has to attend next week,she came home early to see what Sarada did.

The girl wasn’t a troublemaker,but she had a sharp tongue,courtesy of Sasuke,and  she wasn’t the most patient kid in the academy.

‘‘Yes mama?’‘ The 8 year old said as her head appeared through the crack in the door,the girl had a very innocent expression on her face,a tell tale sign that she did something.

‘‘Come in I want to talk to you.’‘

‘‘You look kinda busy now how about later?’‘

‘‘No come in.’‘ she said with firmness in her voice that reminded her of her own mother.

‘I should really visit my mother more.’ the pink haired women remarked at the though of how exhausting parenthood is.

The girl gave up on her attempts to run from the confrontation and moved to sit in front of Sakura’s desk.

‘‘So how was school today?’‘

‘‘Great.’‘

‘‘Nothing new?’‘

‘‘Nope.’‘

‘‘Sarada.’‘

‘‘Mama.’‘

‘‘Shino emailed me.’‘

The girls expression fell,all hope of escaping this situation  lost.

‘‘Fine I punched a girl.’‘

‘‘What!? why?’‘ Sakura faintly remembered a girl a little older than Sarada in the hospital with a broken nose.

‘‘She was bullying chou again.’‘

‘‘Who’s chou?’‘

‘‘Chou-chou akimichi,and you always said that I should stand up for my friends so I did.’‘

Sakura felt a swell of pride.

‘‘But chou-chou can defend herself Sarada.’‘

She’s seen the Akimichi,and she wasn’t the type to be fazed by verbal bullying or even physical bullying since that girl was probably the strongest in her class besides Sarada.

‘‘Well she couldn’t,they cornered her,about four girls,they took her lunch and chips,she did try to defend herself,but the girl I punched was holding her back.’’

‘‘Hn.’‘

She was torn between congratulating her daughter or scolding her,cause she knew the feeling of being bullied and of having someone stand up for you.

‘‘what you did was good but maybe next time choose a different approach than breaking the poor girls nose.’‘

‘‘How did you know I-’‘

‘‘Come on Sarada,give some credit,I’m the head of the hospital.’‘

‘‘Hn.’‘

The Uchiha matriach couldn’t help but wonder on her daughter’s new friendship with the Akimichi heiress.

‘‘Since when are you friends with chou-chou?’‘

The girl was pretty much the opposite of Sarada except for the sassy attitude of course.

‘‘I don’t know,she’s always been nice to me.’‘ when none of the other kids spoke to me,she wanted to add, but thought better,since saying that will open a new discussion with her mother on a topic she really didn’t want to talk about.

‘‘You know it’s good to make friends is the academy,me and you’re aunt Ino met there, we used to bicker like kids about the last cookie.’‘ she neglected to mention that  cookie was Sasuke.

‘‘You still do.’‘ the girl deadpanned.

Sakura giggled at her daughters remark.

‘‘Yeah we bicker now more than when we were kids, I think we’re becoming worse than Naruto and you’re father.’‘

Sarada’s bored expression change into an expression of interest.

‘‘Papa and Uncle Naruto used to bicker a lot?’‘

‘‘Yeah they make the smallest thing into an argument.’‘

Sakura often hesitated to talk to the girl about her father, just so her longing to meet him wouldn’t increase.

‘‘Are Papa and uncle friends?’‘

‘‘Yeah,best friends, like me and auntie Ino, just a lot more rude and childish.’‘

Sarada was about to ask another question when the phone on her mothers desk rang.

‘‘I don’t mind,hold on I’ll ask her.’‘

‘‘Hey honey, Chou-chou wants to invite you for dinner as thanks for what you did today,do you want to go.’‘

‘‘Yeah.’‘ the girl responded immediately,excited at the prospect of seeing her friend.

‘‘Then she’ll be right over.’‘

Sarada got up from her chair and headed towards the door.

‘‘Be back by eight!’‘

‘‘Yes mama.’‘ the girl said as she ran out of the house.

Sakura smiled as she talked to the man that was standing outside her office window for the last hour.

‘‘It’s good that she’s making friends,and I was starting to think that she was too much like you.’‘

‘‘Hn,I am not childish,as for the dobe…’‘

Sakura laughed at her husband’s attitude towards the current hokage.

‘‘You know he’s hokage now,he can arrest you for saying that.’‘

The tall man scoffed as he entered his house for the first time in about 8 months,it was 8 months since he last came to the village,8 months since he’s last seen his wife.

‘‘I’d like to see him try.’‘

‘‘Don’t you two dare start another fight, cause I swear I will kill you both myself if you’re still alive.’‘

‘‘I love you too honey.’‘ he said in a very unSasuke like tone.

Sakura laughed again before her expression turned serious.

Sasuke could see the pain in his wife’s eyes, he shook his head to answer her unasked question.

He wanted to tell her he was sorry he didn’t find anything yet,that he would search faster,but no words came out as his wife hugged him.

‘‘When was the last time you got a full nights sleep?’‘ he asked noticing the dark circles under her eyes.

Sakura smiled a sheepish smile as she answered.

‘‘About two weeks,the hospital has been busy lately.’‘

‘‘Is Sarada doing well at the academy? other than breaking a girls nose.’‘

A  proud smirk formed on his lips,he hasn’t talked to his daugther in 3 years,since he started his mission,but he could tell that she is a lot like her mother.

‘‘Well,she’s top of her class but Boruto seems to be catching up to her.’‘

‘‘tch,dobe junior.’‘

‘‘You just don’t like him cause he liked to pull you’re hair when he was little, by the way,Sarada  has been calling him annoying lately,she reminds me of a certain handsome tsundere from my childhood.’‘

‘‘Good, someone else thought you were annoying.’‘

‘‘Baka!’‘ she said as she punched  his shoulder.

Sasuke chuckled as his wife pouted.

A dangerous gleam appeared in Sakura’s eyes before she spoke again.

‘‘You know,Sarada won’t be home for at least two hours.’‘ she said as she started backing her husband into a corner.

‘‘What do you propose we do in this time.’‘ he said as he took his cape and sword off.

‘‘Well it’s been 8 months,and I’ve been thinking about this since I noticed you outside the window.’‘

Sasuke flipped her so she was the one with her back on the wall.

‘‘Well then we’ll see what we can do about that.’‘ he whispered in her ear as she started unbuttoning his shirt.

“April Fools” on AO3

It’s Edward’s birthday, but that doesn’t mean much to him. Oswald tries to make it special.

7k, SFW.


“Good morning, sleeping beauty,” Oswald murmurs into Ed’s ear, sitting on the bed beside him and making the mattress dip. Ed hums, blinking up at Oswald blearily. He’s generally the first to rise, but Oswald never wakes him on the days he’s not. He can make out a blurry smile on Oswald’s face and smiles in return. Oswald leans down to kiss him, and Ed bites back a protest about not having brushed his teeth yet. Clearly, Oswald is up to something.

“I brought you breakfast,” Oswald chirps, standing and handing Ed his glasses. Ed accepts them, unfolding the frames and putting them on in order to survey the selection Oswald has brought. It’s a full English breakfast: bacon, fried eggs, grilled tomatoes, toast, and sausages. He sits up, arranging himself so he’s leaning back against several pillows while Oswald sets the tray of food up over his lap. Ed tries the coffee, and he can tell before he even tastes it that it’s the exact ratio of coffee to milk to sugar that he prefers. Oswald had even spruced up the tray of food with a little vase of flowers, filled with white and purple crocuses that Ed recognizes as having recently bloomed on their lawn. There’s a small bowl of strawberries as well, large and red, probably a last minute consideration on Oswald’s part when he realized that a full English wasn’t exactly what Ed would consider to be the best selection for a balanced breakfast.

“What’s the occasion?” Ed asks, tilting his face up for another peck as Oswald hovers over him. Oswald laughs and kisses him once again before sitting on the bed.

“It’s your birthday, silly goose.” His birthday. Ed hadn’t even realized. He’d never really celebrated the day. Generally, telling people it was his birthday led to laughter and disbelief rather than well wishes. That was the curse of being born on April first, he supposes. While working for the GCPD, he had never possessed the energy required to convince person after person it was actually his birthday; it just made the whole affair even more pathetic than it already was. Better to ignore the day all together. What was the purpose of celebrating, anyways? Congratulations on making another rotation around the sun, you are now one day closer to your inevitable demise.

“Thank you,” Ed says instead. “I don’t think I’m going to be able to eat all of this by myself.”

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anonymous asked:

Honestly things have been such a mess lately and looking more and more like it's going to be a long term battle. Not even sure if there is still a band left anymore. I still care about the guys but if we have to continue with the bullshit then I don't see the point really. Now we got two fake babies and a bunch of fake girlfriends and the most shady promo. I would rather give my time and money to someone else. Still gonna be here for your writing though :)

Who would’ve thought this shit would stretch for long and get even worse, eh? I certainly wouldn’t. But we’re here, and that’s the current situation. *sighs*

I don’t even worry about the band TBH. All this shit we’re seeing traces back to money. We’re seeing the result of a predatory industry preying on young talents (literal kids when the boys started). So, even if it takes 20 years, 1D will still come back because it’s profitable. (New Kids on The Block have returned, so why not 1D?).

Even if they were at each other’s throats (like the press wants us to believe), at one point they would still come back because $$$. Remember how everyone got excited about the prospect of some dude suing 1D and how that would mean all five reunited in court? That only proves that, despite the fuckery in this fandom, people would nut for a reunion. End of. 1D are a big name. It doesn’t matter that many think they’re a band for kids. Pretty much everyone knows about 1D, even if just to mock them as “kiddies stuff”.

(And here I don’t have much to say because 1D’s team targets grown men making all kinds of lewd jokes and singing innuendos at kids. If you go back to UAN tour, you’ll know a bunch of hormonal teenage boys were NEVER appropriate for little kids. “Blow a kiss, blow a job”? “Different dick every night”? PLS!)

But back to the subject. Yeah, it feels like everything will drag for some time. We see all those babies around, and it doesn’t seem like we’re getting any denouement soon. We can’t enjoy anything about the boys’ solo careers without some kind of fuckery, or being used to promote their so-called “girlfriends”. Everything is normal and people break up and get cheated and go back again.  Yup, nothing to see here. Celebrities are fickle and so are the normal people associated to them. :)

Many don’t care for facts and roll with it. Some even want you to dumb down to their level when logic and facts tell you otherwise. Fandom life is more and more complicated because you don’t know who to follow, the friend of yesterday is the heterosexuality-loving anti of tomorrow blocking you and pretending like they’ve never seen the shadiness they turn a blind eye on now. Many of your blog friends are deleting or changing blogs completely; everybody and their nan are a Kpop blog now.

I agree with you in that we don’t have many positive things right now. Haven’t had them for years now TBH. It’s just no fun. I can see why investing time in other thing would be nice, or even just enjoy casually the music that (hopefully) comes out. I’ll probably do that at one point, too. I’m not interested in drama. When I want drama I watch Soraya Montenegro try to kill three different characters in the same scene★. Now That’s What I Call Drama™.

All that said, I still want to see the boys emerge victorious. It won’t be easy (we’re seeing it now), but one day something good must happen, right? We’ve never asked for much.

We wanted nice merch? Have dolls, bags and 256 perfumes!

We wanted OT5 content? Too bad, they’re all mortal enemies now. Their securities actually are to protect them from one another.

We wanted the rumoured collabs with other artists like FOB? Get rekt! There’s no ‘team’ in ‘featuring’, and have I mentioned that all 1D boys hate each other?

We’re honestly starved of everything we’d get from a normal band. I’ll be blunt here: I don’t give a single fuck about personal lives, naming their families members or whom they’re supposedly banging. I never did. But what did we get? A bunch of “relatable” canvas girlfriends to supposedly makes us squee. Aww, see that? The boys date normal girls! Older girls! That means you too can be a 1D girlfriend!!! Yeahhh… there’s not a single thing surrounding 1D that had been aimed for typical fans. Everything had been done like we all want to bone them. (And many do, but that’s not everyone. They’re not pieces of meat and we’re not fucking pumas!)

1D success has been DESPITE their team. The boys are loveable and their bond is what has drawn most of the people in. I still think we don’t have many 1D fans as we have “I’m [1D boy]’s fan and I’m stick with the other 4” around here. Too many hateful stans that thrive on tearing the others down to elevate their fave. When I think about that, it’s not hard see why 1D shitty team got away with the putrid stuff they try to feed us: too many scavengers.

Anyway! I have no idea where I was going with this (it’s mostly 1AM ramblings), but yeah. We can only hope for something good in less than 20 years. I wish all five the best and want to see them succeed. I hope I can see it happen before we’re all 50-somethings. And thank you for the kind words. :) Glad my writing can add something positive to this hellhole of fandom. I’m here for the music, the boys’ friendship, to support them and fandom content. Sadly those are the things we don’t get any more. *sighs*

The Fitting (Part 7)

(The sexuality of your relationship with Jungkook continues to get more intense while you both struggle a little on how to make things work.)

Warning: smut, cunnilingus, face-sitting, public sex, intercourse, explicit as always


With Jungkook working out of town for a couple of days, you were able to focus more on your own job without distraction.  Or at least with fewer distractions.  Before you both parted ways at your apartment, Jungkook told you teasingly that every time he got horny he would text you to let you know he was thinking of you.  You hadn’t been apart more than 30 minutes before you got the first text.

Thinking of you right now.

You had learned from almost getting caught the previous day that you needed to keep you phone on silent and to change Jungkook’s name to “Some Guy” in your contact list.  You really didn’t feel like you could trust Jungkook to tone it down in his texts, but you would do the best you could to keep it from being noticeable.

You spent most of the day focused on planning all the looks for the boys’ appearances in Thailand next week.  It was fun to finally have some limited control over the entire process from fashion to hair and makeup.  You had been so focused on your work that you didn’t even realize until you arrived home late that night that you hadn’t checked the messages on your phone all day.  When you finally looked, you saw messages from the blind date guy making suggestions for your second date.

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@thebestfonewm:
Derek the Fireman saving Stiles and a kitten from a tree

This was gonna be super short but now it’s just a hot mess of pining and Isaac being a (brotherly) dick. Enjoy!


Stiles is not stuck. To random passers-by it could appear that he is stuck, but he’s completely capable of getting down off this motherfucking tree all by himself. There was absolutely no reason to call the fire department, Isaac, given that they have a perfectly serviceable ladder in the garage, and Stiles totally has the agility of a jungle cat. Climbing down this tree should be a piece of cake. It’s just that, you know: tiny kitten.

And Tiny Kitten is currently digging pinprick claws into Stiles’s shoulder and neck while he clings to the tree trunk, so any false move might result in her accidentally slicing his throat. He’s being cautious, never mind the fact that it’s been the better part of an hour and he hasn’t moved an inch.

If Isaac could just stop laughing his fucking face off and actually help him, there wouldn’t be sirens growing louder and louder as a giant fire truck turns down his street.

Stiles is going to kill him. He just has to get back down on the ground first.

“You better run, Lahey,” Stiles says, and Isaac laughs so hard he collapses onto the grass.

What makes it worse or better, Stiles isn’t exactly sure, is when Derek Hale steps down off the truck, scowls hard enough to wrinkle that perfect brow, and says, “This isn’t an emergency.”

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