Is it possible to ask for domestic bf/gf headcanons for the minor trio ¿? Thanks in advance ~!
✿ I’m so weak for happy domesticity.
all this man ever wanted was a happy, domestic life.
Seriously, it’s been his dream since he was a child! His parents were weird and absent, Jumin’s dad was… Jumin’s dad, and V has otherwise lead an isolated existance. All he knows of a happy marriage is what he sees on TV, and growing up, he desperately fantasized about having something like that.
He thought he’d had that with Rika, but - well.
V’s life has not been everything he ever hoped and dreamed.
Until he met you, he thought that maybe… those dreams were just that, dreams, ephemeral and transient and something he could never grasp with his own two hands. But you showed him love, happiness, and a light as sweet and gentle as the glow of the fireflies in the summertime, and V tentatively begins to hope.
V begins to find out what a happy routine is like.
He wakes up earlier than you, so he puts on coffee for you both. He’s absentminded sometimes, so you’re the one who does the laundry and folds the clothes, and V does the dishes, because you’re the one who usually cooks, and he thinks it’s Only Polite.
Gradually, spare surfaces in your home are covered with various forms of ornamental cactus. V is minimalist, so, aside from his photographs hanging on the wall and the clothes in his closet, it’s the only real sign that he lives there, too.
V takes pictures of every happy occasion. Valentine’s Day? Your birthday? His birthday, where you make him a cactus cake just because you thought it’d be funny?
He fills a photo album with these memories, and the regular, random, everyday bullshit that he decides to capture with his camera.
It’s a little strange to you, because V’s photographs are so amazing that… he should be taking pictures of amazing, momentous subjects, right? But V doesn’t feel like that at all.
To him, this regular, everyday life is amazing and momentous. The fact that he has a routine with you is incredible.
V takes pictures of what makes him happy, and you trudging into the kitchen to make blueberry pancakes for him every weekend makes him happier than anything in the world.
this boy has no experience with domesticity and it’s weird you’re weird this is weird WHAT’S GOING ON.
You have to teach him to do all this mundane bullshit. How to fold laundry! How to wash the sheets! How to run the dishwasher, because while he’s basically a hacking god he’s never washed anything in his life and thinks that the humming sound it makes is the work of the devil.
(seriously, the washing machine makes a clunking sound the first time he tries to start it and he goes into panic mode thinking it’s going to explode.)
One day you walk into him having an argument with the TV because it WON’T DISPLAY PICTURE and HE TURNED IT ON THE LIGHT IS ON HE SEES THE POWER BUTTTON IS LIT UP WHAT IS GOING ON
sweetie it’s set to the wrong input.
He’s also Not Super Great with the neighbors. Like old little lady Kim tries to say hello to him and he insults her hat and runs inside to hide.
(luckily that is smoothed over by introducing him to little old lady Kim’s dog, who he loves and cherishes and wants to protect.)
Saeran starts putting food out for the stray cats because he Feels Bad, and you end up starting a cat sanctuary in your back yard without meaning to.
this is fine, you suppose, it’s about what you expected.
Every evening when you get home from work and if Saeran isn’t busy with his freelance programming work, the two of you cuddle and watch TV. (Though it should be said that cuddling with Saeran is more like him sprawling across your lap like a needy animal.)
It’s in these peaceful moments where you’re like - yeah. Yeah, okay.
This is pretty good.
Despite everything, things are going to be okay.
Never once did Mary Vanderwood the III expect to be domestic, but they’re actually pretty good at it.
They are hyper organized. They put a white-board on the wall and there’s a meticulously neat white board listing all the chores that need doing them and who’s doing them that day.
(Seriously, they must have drawn the lines with a ruler!)
You make them a bagged lunch in the morning, and always include a sweet note for them to find during their workday. On the weekends, they wake up early and make you a full breakfast, complete with pancakes, bacon, and eggs done exactly the way you like them.
They’re pretty good with the neighbors. They form friendships with some of the other house wives and house husbands around and share cooking tips, cleaning tips, and general home maintenance woes.
ok but Vanderwood would love buying cooking magazines and would collect home decorating tips on pinterest.
Vanderwood is the type of person who buys fancy sugars, salts, and spices, so your cooking cabinet is an amalgamation of exotic (but really good tasting!) ingredients.
They’re always trying new things to make your house cute and homey and it’s adorable.
The two of you read together in the evenings, with their arm around you and your books in your respective laps, and sometimes you’ll read them a line you really like, and they’ll do the same for you.
I’ve been scrolling around on the Alexander the great tag on Tumblr and there are all these posts where people are writing about how they just want to KNOW him, to meet him, to really know what he was like. And it’s not just idle curiosity, there’s a feeling of connection, of longing, that I can relate to and really GET. Alex does something to you.
So sooner or later in these posts someone brings up reincarnation. Maybe we did know him. Maybe we met him. Maybe we fought beside him in another life.
So let’s, for the sake of argument, assume that reincarnation is literally real.
Think about the size of Alexander’s army. At gaugemela the army was about 47,000 in number. And that’s not the highest it ever was. Think about all the men who died, and were replaced, who came later in the campaign, who were dropped off to colonize a new city. Then add to that the number of camp followers: wives , children, slaves, cooks, merchants, carpenters, tailors, metal workers, that needed to follow and interact with this army to make it run.
Now imagine the size of Darius’s army. High estimates say there were 100,000 troops at gaugemela alone. Add to that the size of the opposing army of every battle this man fought. Then add THEIR camp followers, and remember that Persians travelled with even larger and more elaborate entourages.
Now think of the size of the Persian court. Darius’s family, advisors, generals, servants, and courtiers. And then add every small city, state and citadel Alex conquered and passed through. Their nobility, peasants, servants and slaves.
Now add the population of every Greek city state he passed through as well.
And finally, add the population of Pella, a small town on a hill side, nowhere in particular, finally finding its place on the world stage. It was not as big as it would be under Cassander’s reign, it was likely most of the citizens would have interacted with Alex personally at some point. These would have been the people he knew best, cared about, loved.
Alexander interacted with so many people during his short life. We know he was a very hands on king and general who knew the names of many of his men. It is likely he exchanged words at least once with a sizable percentage of this number but even if he did not, think of how many people knew of him, who were affected by him and all he did. Who fought him, who feared him, who finally saw him coming and ,in many cases, realized he wasn’t the monster they had been warned about
Think of how many people would have wanted to know him, to understand him, to meet him, and how many did. And realize that in this number there is room for you. In fact, it is statistically likely.
How big is an army? How big is an empire?
Alexander the great ruled through love. He thrived on it. He needed it, the love of his men, his people, his country. I think, if he too is out there somewhere, he’d be amused, flattered, and somewhat humbled by all the love he still gets. He’d probably want to know us all too. That’s just the kind of man he was.
I’m a terrible cook. Thats why my mama used to say I’d never get married. But thanks to Saint Paschal I found a husband who cooks marvelously. He adores cooking, and it is his passion. He prepares delicious dishes for me and our kids. I thank Saint Paschal, the patron of cooks.
On love, lust, and other feelings (Sashea) - wordsmithmaybe
A/N: Hey:) This is my first time submitting anything on this blog, but I have my own blog where I have been posting rpdr fanfictions for a while now (wordsmithmaybe). I’m obsessed with lesbian sashea so I couldn’t help but write this 7k au fanfic!! I hope you enjoy it, and please let me know if you want a sequel x
(sorry for any spelling or grammar mistakes. I’m slightly dyslexic, but i tried my best to proof read)
P,S This story is inspired by my own experiences. I’m not trying to offend anyone or their religion.
One of the details that has always struck me the most and that has stuck with me since I’ve first read Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell is that while John Uskglass is revered and respected across all of England, in the North, the very region that he was King over, the most popular stories about him are things like “John Uskglass and the Charcoal Burner” and how they say things like, when the weather is off season and it’s cold and rainy in summer or warm in winter that John Uskglass is in love again and forgets his business.
In the introduction to the Ladies of Grace Adieu, it says:
“’John Uskglass and the Cumbrian Charcoal Burner’ is an example of that genre of stories…in which the rich and powerful are confounded by their social inferiors…. In medieval Northern England no one was richer or more powerful than John Uskglass and consequently Northern English folklore abounds with tales in which Uskglass tumbles down holes in the ground, falls in love with unsuitable ladies or for various complicated and unlikely reasons finds himself obliged to cook porridge for harassed innkeepers’ wives.” But I don’t really think that captures how important these kind of stories would have been to the people living under his reign. John Uskglass, after all, is not just an ordinary king, not merely rich or politically powerful and needing to be knocked off a pedestal and put in his place. John Uskglass is The Raven King.
I mean, imagine it, there’s this fifteen-year-old kid, barely a man. He comes in, leading a fairy army and basically holding all of nature at his command and takes control of the North of England, facing no defeats. He rules for 300 years, never ageing past, say, his 20′s, while meanwhile the citizens of his country are being born, growing, and dying all without ever having seen anyone else on the throne. All without having their parents or grandparents having seen anyone else on the throne. He was raised not by humans, but by fairies, a race of beings with only the loosest grasp on reality, morality, and rationality as humans understand them. There’s also good evidence that this king you’ve got ruling over you is closer in thinking like these fairies than he is thinking like you, a human being. (”Not long, Not long my father said, not long will you be ours…”) There’s something kinda scary about that, especially when combined with the fact that he does things a lot of the time, and no one can really say why. It’s almost lovecraftian really,when you look at it that way. John Uskglass is less a Man and more a force of nature, and his concerns are not necessarily the same as your own.
And so you have these stories. Tales of all of those times the Raven King’s messed up, made all of these mistakes in ridiculously foolish, but in very human ways. Just look at the Tale of the Cumbrian Charcoal Burner for instance, the root of everything that happens to John in that story is not the fact that the Charcoal Burner has three saints on his side, but John’s own pride - a pretty human foible - and his tendency toward a sometimes eerie silence. And in the story of the Cornish witch, John nearly looses both his kingdom and his powers because he falls in love. These stories may beexaggerations, obviously, but there’s the hope, the possibility that there’s some grain of truth in there, and that’s reassuring. It means, deep down, at the root of it all, John Uskglass is, in fact, human.
I don’t know, I’ve always liked that idea. It’s one of those things that really brings out the duality of his character, both the fae and human natures, and that’s one of the reasons he is one of my favorite characters.
If there’s one thing that I learned, it’s that endings never work out the way you want them to—that they’re terrible, and this one is no different. Closing circles, shutting doors, finishing the last chapter of a good book , or the last afternoon of summer. Endings are like flat tires and wet pairs of socks and cold dinners. They’re the sort of thing that—no matter the effort, no matter the discipline—no one can get right. This is one of those days for us. When we have to say goodbye to everything familiar and safe and be exposed to a new world out there while leaving great memories behind. But believe me when I say, there are far greater things ahead than any we leave. What we can’t do is live our lives always afraid of the next goodbye and the coming beginning, because chances are they’re not going to stop. The trick is to recognize when a goodbye can be a good thing: when it’s a chance to start again. And although our high school life has to end, our love for each other doesn’t.
And I don’t think I can set foot into the new world without guardian angels on my side and on my heart. -This one’s to the teachers, who took minutes of their own time to deliver a message to us. -To the teachers who tolerated our class room drama and helped us be the best -Who let us sneak snacks in class and pretended they didn’t see us, although obviously the class smelt like food. -To the ones who understood our cravings, and made their wives cook for us because they knew how much food meant to us. -To the teachers who took us out to play paintball and were the reason for our bruises. But that’s okay because they were a good kind of bruises. The memorable kind. The kind you never want to get rid of. -To the teachers who developed our skills in various way and guided our way to success. Thank you.
And then there are those lovely tremendous and extraordinary people sitting among you. Our families and parents and brothers and sisters.
-So, this one’s for my Mother, who I could tell everything to and who always understood me, advised me and gave me all she had. Who dried my tears when I had a broken heart, defended me even when I was wrong and taught me that the world is cruel but I’m strong enough to survive in it. -To my father, who not only spent half of his paycheck so I can buy new clothes and travel out of the country or get a proper education, but who was also very open minded and not afraid to expose me to new things out there because he knew that to gain experience and wisdom, I had to see the good and the bad of everything. Mom, dad, just because I’m graduating or possibly going anywhere doesn’t mean your roles as parents end here. I’ll always need you no matter how many times I say I don’t. -To my brothers, both of them, who loved me, cared for me and drove me around when I needed a ride. -To my sisters, the ones i never had but whom my best friends played the perfect role of, who were there for me through the ups and downs and happy and sad times. Thank you.
And last but not least, This one’s for the bunch of kids sitting way over there about to get their diplomas, graduate and be free and not kids anymore. Me among them, of course.
I know that we’ll all be stories some day, and our pictures will become old photographs. We all become somebody’s mom or dad. But right now, these moments are nor stories. This is happening. We are here, gathered by the people who love us the most in the world. We’re the heroes of our time, we’re infinite as the universe and we’re making a promise to always remember that our young hearts should always shoot for the stars and change the world.
When I think of each and every personality of you guys, I just realize that this year would have been completely different if any of you were missing. I admit that I probably didn’t get along with like a quarter of you. Okay, half of you? Three quarters? Ok, let’s not push it.
So, fellow graduates and young volcanoes, this one’s to you, -To the girl who likes reading, good music and wanderlust -To the girl who likes helping people and is the friendliest and kindest person I ever met -To the girl whose face goes red as a tomato when someone talks to her -To our future Einstein -To the girl who can make us laugh no matter how serious the situation is. -To the girl who can’t wait to graduate and get out of here. -To the girls who like good music and have an awesome fashion sense -To the girls whose laugh is funnier than the joke itself -To the girls who like drawing, singing, dancing and just having fun. -And To the neat/ sarcastic/ intelligent/confident/kind hearted and remarkable girls I know. -To those interested in photography. -To the guy who’s so smart in calculus, physics and Ap chemistry, that Walter White from Breaking Bad probably died because he wasn’t as brilliant as him. -To the musicians who banged their drums and strummed their guitars and made everyone happy. -To the guy whose best quality is that he’s caring, responsible and short, just like I am. -To the guys who’re creative and misunderstood and always hungry, and to the guy who’s anti-mainstream. Although being anti-mainstream is actually mainstream. -To the guy who’s the main reason I even came to this school and will always be known for his curly hair, golden voice and amazing basketball skills. -To the guy who puts the B in BOSS, and likes being called The President. -To the guy who likes football more than his own mother. -To the guys I probably never had a real conversation with until this very day but I still won’t forget them.
-And most importantly, to the class of 2014 who, let’s admit it, is the best thing that ever happened to this school. Right?
So, I hope you enjoyed my speech and if you did not, I hope you had a good nap. I’ve had enough memories in this school to keep me smiling all summer, and even after if I wasn’t going to college in September. So, enjoy the rest of the evening, and the rest of your life, save your tears for later, say what you always wanted to say tonight with no fear or regrets because you might not have another chance, and make even more memories to tell your children when you grow up. Friends, families and everyone joining us tonight, You know what they say it’s not a goodbye, it’s a see you later. I love you guys,
Would you prefer the TWOW Jonsa reunion to be in Jon or Sansa's POV?
Good lord Lizzie this was fucking difficult! But I think I came to the conclusion that if there was a Jon and Sansa reunion in TWoW, I would want it to be in Sansa’s POV. Mainly because even though she can be an unreliable narrator, I love the way Sansa tells stories and uses language…
They are children, Sansa thought. They are silly little girls, even Elinor. They’ve never seen a battle, they’ve never seen a man die, they know nothing. Their dreams were full of songs and stories… Sansa pitied them. Sansa envied them. — AGoT
Sansa stared at him, seeing him for the first time. He was wearing a padded crimson doublet patterned with lions and a cloth-of-gold cape with a high collar that framed his face. She wondered how she could ever have thought him handsome. His lips were as soft and red as the worms you found after a rain, and his eyes were vain and cruel. — AGoT
Sansa knew most of the hymns, and followed along on those she did not know as best she could. She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him. — ACoK
Joffrey was dead, he was dead, he was dead, dead, dead. Why was she crying, when she wanted to dance? Were they tears of joy? — ASoS
When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, shethought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me. — ASoS
Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover’s kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. — ASoS
Though his hair was grey and his face lined, Lord Yohn still looked as though he could break most younger men like twigs in those huge gnarled hands. His seamed and solemn face brought back all of Sansa’s memories of his time at Winterfell. — ASoS
Those are just a FEW of my favorite Sansa quotes, she is so incredibly and eloquently descriptive. I think the way Sansa creates such beautiful imagery and expresses so much emotion in her POV would make it the perfect perspective for a reunion.
It has also been SO LONG since Sansa saw anyone from her family, or even anyone truly Northern in appearance, that it would probably be a very moving experience for her. I would love to read her reaction and hear how she describes Jon after so much time away from him and her home and her family. I also feel like she would talk about how much he looks like Ned and Arya which omfglksjfhgskjadg 😭 😭 😭
I got bored at work again and started thinking about how everyone thinks that Jeyne Poole is important to Sansa’s story in that Sansa needs to find out what Littlefinger did to her in order for Sansa to break free from Littlefinger’s grasp, betray him, etc. But I actually think that it will have nothing to do with Sansa and Littlefinger and her story arc is more important to Arya’s regaining of her identity instead. Read more, because holy shit it got long on me.
Hi! I promise I’m not a Jaime’s redemption apologist but still wonder: what’s his degree of implication or intellectual authorship in the Lannister regime? He obviously profits from it, he killed Aerys, pushed Bran, attacked Ned’s men, fought Robb… but the two main Lannister war-crimes, raiding the Riverlands and the Red Wedding, were rather Tywin’s responsibility. To me, Jaime seemed an action man, ready to carry any of Tywin’s (or ocasionally Cersei’s) ideas without a second thought, but not exactly a plotter. He seemed content with his life as Robert’s guard, could he have urged Cersei to kill him? What do you think?
I believe Jaime is content to be the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard for life, but I don’t think he was involved in Cersei’s plan to get Robert killed. (Maybe I’ve forgotten something in the text, though?) That being said, I think Jaime would have happily killed Robert without a second thought if he felt he had cause. Even Robert believed Jaime would have killed him, given cause, which is why he never hit Cersei on the face.
Ned touched her cheek gently. “Has he done this before?”
“Once or twice.” She shied away from his hand. “Never on the face before. Jaimewould have killed him, even if it meant his own life.“
What’s Jaime’s degree of implication or intellectual authorship in the Lannister regime?
What degree of implication do you assign to Erwin Rommel in the Nazi regime?
… um … this post is gonna get wild. Assume this post contains mentions of everything you might expect as soon as I bring up Nazis (possibly extremely triggering), as well as some things you aren’t expecting. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
Did you see that the wives/partners of her other band members, Mike Meadows and David Cook, commented on Kamilah's Insta post: "britmeadows - Mike best be bringing home some goodies 😉🙌🏼" & "shaynasteele - @britmeadows I second that. I need that ish on my head stat. So dope" So cute how supportive they all are! Makes me think the band was clearly all together, which means, perhaps Taylor was present as well and they were rehearsing?
Anonymous said:September 18th 2017, 11:36:00 am · Mike Meadows wife commented on Kamilah’s pic “mike best bring me some stuff” or something like that! Maybe they’re rehearsing and she’s bringing back some banjo?! 👀 could be nothing but interesting comment!
Anonymous said:September 18th 2017, 11:38:00 am · Hmmm Kamilah’s post is interesting…Do you think Taylor’s rehearsing?! Is she playing live somewhere soon?! 🕵️♀️
yes i did notice this…. it sounds possible they are rehearsing somewhere which is exciting !!! attack me with a performance, swift!! i’m ready
Hiya! I can't recall very well but doesn't Sansa, in ACoK, during the BoBW think something like the mother and the warrior are the two sides of the same coin and wonders which one the people or soldiers pray too?
Pretty close! In the sept, they pray to the Mother but the men on the castle walls pray to the Warrior:
“In the sept they sing for the Mother’s mercy but on the walls it’s the Warrior they pray to, and all in silence. She remembered how Septa Mordane used to tell them that the Warrior and the Mother were only two faces of the same great god. But if there is only one, whose prayers will be heard?”
- Sansa V, aCoK
It’s a great commentary on both war and faith. And because I love it so much, this passage comes right after:
“Sansa knew most of the hymns, and followed along on those she did not know as best she could. She sang along with grizzled old serving men and anxious young wives, with serving girls and soldiers, cooks and falconers, knights and knaves, squires and spit boys and nursing mothers. She sang with those inside the castle walls and those without, sang with all the city. She sang for mercy, for the living and the dead alike, for Bran and Rickon and Robb, for her sister Arya and her bastard brother Jon Snow, away off on the Wall. She sang for her mother and her father, for her grandfather Lord Hoster and her uncle Edmure Tully, for her friend Jeyne Poole, for old drunken King Robert, for Septa Mordane and Ser Dontos and Jory Cassel and Maester Luwin, for all the brave knights and soldiers who would die today, and for the children and the wives who would mourn them, and finally, toward the end, she even sang for Tyrion the Imp and for the Hound. He is no true knight but he saved me all the same, she told the Mother. Save him if you can, and gentle the rage inside him.”
ANYway the way it’s deemed acceptable for men to not do any chores whatsoever, not take care of the children at all, not be interested or aware of any of their wives hobbies, to not get along with or know any of their wives family, to forget things important to their wives (ie anniversaries, birthdays etc), need a woman to cook, clean up after, do laundry, wipe their ass for them, and then have the Fucking idea to think that their wives are a “ball and chain” meant to hold them back and terrorize them to the point where they think they think they need things like “man caves” and “guys weekend” just to escape them is fucking ridiculous and goes to show how fucking pathetic and sensitive they are. Goodbye!