#its got seashell details on all four sides

[ilikelookingatthings]

I got a table for eight bucks....

I did not need a table.

Its a very nice pretty cheap table.

I have no room for a table.

My sister did not want me to get that table.

that sister went to Florida.

I got that table.

Now.... How do I hide a table.

Dear sister in Florida who has tumblr who told me not to get the table

Do not tell the sister who also went to Florida but who doesn’t have a tumblr that I got a table.

She can’t keep secerts, will judge and I want to see how long it will take til she notices

#table #tables for cheap #cheap tables #or table singular as it were. #its wood #very square and has a odd black pain on the top #is paint suppoused to peal in strips? #its got seashell details on all four sides #little wooden seashells #and fancy legs #nicely curved #I want to paint it either Aquaman themed or Never fairies and the quest for the egg themed #If its aquaman i want to do a accurate but cool look into the rebirth atlantis look. #like a fancy map or colorful blueprint or dollhouse look #for never fairies i would have to get good #or maybe i could do themiscara? Or maybe i should just paint the underside(or burn it...i have a wood burning tool....but i'm not good yet) #my bet is to hide it in plain sight near the foot of my bed where it can blend in like a where's waldo among my stuff #I am proud I was able to sneak it into the house #by myself #it was difficult to maneuver by myself but I did it #I accomplished something #table i didn't need aquired

[mimiwrites2000]

What Does White Mean?

Chapter ONE / two

(completed)

AO3 ~~

Pairings: Armin x Annie

(side pairings: Pieck Finger x Jean Kirstein, Reiner Braun x Hitch Dreyse, Mikasa Ackreman x someone new)

Words count: 3416

* spoilers for chapter 131 and up

Summary:

The ocean lulled them to sleep, and the sun woke them up with mild kisses. Tangled with each other, in their cabin by the beach. After the war ended, they moved together, ever since, they faced obstacles, issues, and misunderstandings. One of them was Armin’s seashells. Stubbornness got in the way, but no matter how much they tried, they couldn’t keep their hands to themselves.

He already filled two boxes to the rim. Pieces falling out from them, the wooden edges of the boxes barely holding them in. 

Sea shells in necklaces, bracelets, rings. But nothing was good enough, nothing was perfect.

He didn't know what the perfect one looked like, but he knew that none of them was it.

In his small workshop, that was, in fact, just a tiny storage room before he started this hobby, Armin worked his way through another piece of jewelry.

A seashell with streaks of pink, light as Annie's lips. Dots of sparkling white adorning it, just like the sparks in her eyes.

He put the final touches on the necklace, twisting the clasp in its place, giving it two tugs to insure its firmness, then opened the cabinet in his desk, and pulled out a third box.

Imperfect piece number one went in the third box.

Great.

The storage room— the workshop had a small, triangle, frosted glass window, but Armin didn't like it, it made the small place even smaller. After he moved in with Annie, he changed it immediately, to a clear transparent glass. 

Their ocean-view cabin met Armin’s dreams to the smallest detail; one bedroom, one bathroom, a living room, and a kitchenette were enough to satisfy them and convincing enough to buy it without second thoughts.

He spent most of his mornings either strolling by the beach or in Annie's arms, and his nights by a bonfire or under the sheets with her.

They had their breakfasts on the porch, with the salty wafts drifting with the ocean breeze, the crooning of seagulls their only companion.

Everything seemed perfect.

Except for the nights when he woke up in cold sweat, screams rupturing his lungs, Annie’s hands trying to calm him down, embracing him and running through his hair. Or mornings while Annie took longer in the shower, while he sat outside, listening to her silent sobs.

But they were ok. Armin always hugged Annie when she stepped out of the shower, and whispered that they're ok, they're alive, healthy, together.

They're ok.

But this jewelry crafting thing came out of nowhere. And Armin wished he learnt about it long before.

It was Annie who suggested it, when she saw his seashells collection accumulating to the ceiling, she said he might as well make good use of it. She didn’t specify jewelry crafts, but he found that these delicate shells needed a delicate use.

And there he was, in his former storage room, picking through seashells, twisting wires and knitting in beads.

He had been trying to make her the perfect piece. He still didn’t find the perfect one.

He eyed the two boxes — the newly third one joining them. He never thought about selling them, or giving them to anyone else, or throwing them away…

He wondered why.

Maybe because he clutched onto one seashell for more than four years, and the habit was born with the many nights he spent eyeing it, whether it was in his room at night, or in front of a crystal in an icy cold basement.

Knock knock!

“Don’t come in!” Armin’s words overlapped, he was so immersed in his daydream that the knocks on the door made him jump in his seat.

“I won’t, I promise,” from the other side of the door, Annie grumbled. Armin felt bad, he never let her in his workshop, mainly because he didn’t want to spoil the surprise that he still didn’t figure out, and secondly… well, he wasn’t ready for any judgment on his poor jewelry crafting skills.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“It’s getting late, I was wondering if you can… you know, get dinner ready? I don’t feel like burning the kitchen.”

“Oh right,” he got up and opened the door, only to be met with an arms-crossed Annie, a passive look on her face. He didn’t know if she was upset because she was hungry, or because he was, once again, keeping her away from his workshop. “We don’t want a burnt kitchen now do we?” he asked, half jokingly

Annie tried cooking once, on his birthday. She tried baking a simple cake. They ended up with a piece of a circular char, on top of it one single candle.

“I don’t think we have-” the rest of the sentence was swallowed down Armin’s throat when he saw groceries lining up the kitchen table.

“I went out an hour ago, I didn’t want to disturb you, but don’t worry, I checked everything on the list, twice.”

“Ah, yes, thanks.”

Guilt swelt in his guts.

She didn’t want to disturb him…

She was upset with him.

He rolled up his sweater’s sleeves, washing his hands, before he started opening the groceries bags, emptying them on the counter.

Annie on the side crossing her arms.

“What do you want for dinner?” he asked, trying to ignore her glaring eyes by inspecting a head of lettuce in his hand.

“Anything, it doesn’t matter.”

One 

Two 

Three-

“Maybe something fast so you can get back to your small workshop-”

“Okay Annie listen-”

“No you listen!”

The lettuce head froze in his hands.

“You’ve been doing this for weeks! Even- even I don’t know how many months!”

Armin slowly put down the lettuce on the counter, looking down at his feet.

“And you never let me in! Like, ever! I don’t understand why!” she continued, her arms flailing around, before resting on her hips, “every single day, every fucking day you lock yourself up in that room for hours! And I know you’re playing around with your shells but why are you hiding like this?! I’m not gonna pretend that something is not up,” she was pacing around the kitchen, Armin watching her from the corner of his eyes. “I know I’m the one who suggested it, but- but-” she sighed, “even when we go out on the beach, your eyes are always down, searching for even more shells! What is up with you?!”

“Annie-”

“I don’t understand what you’re hiding, I don’t understand why you’re hiding it,” suddenly she stopped, Armin looked at her, “we moved in together, Armin, we live under the same goddamn roof.”

“Annie-”

“What?Annie what? You’re sorry? Keep it to yourself! You’ve already apologized twice before but nothing ever changed,” she turned, and before he could stop her, she stormed into their bedroom.

And he was left alone in the kitchen.

The ocean waves swayed in a symphony, but when he looked outside, all he saw was a dark mass that swallowed him whole.

Armin huffed, he knew this was coming, he knew it so well.

Annie wasn’t wrong.

But she wasn’t right either.

He was doing it for her. He was locking himself up to make her the perfect jewelry.

Armin kicked the heel of his shoes against the cabinet. Thud thud thud. Putting a rhythm to his mind and his thoughts.

Maybe... she was right. She didn’t know what he was doing, she felt left out.

They only have each other.

No one should leave the other in the dark.

No matter what.

Armin pushed himself off the cabinets, and walked towards the room.

He stood at the threshold, watching Annie curled on her side of the bed under the duvet.

He pressed his lips together, but he didn’t dare make a sound, even though he knew she was aware of his presence. 

He sat on his side of the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

Annie didn’t move.

Armin sighed. He fucked up, and he must fix it. 

He kicked off his shoes, and slithered under the duvet.

His face confronted her back.

One

Two

Three-

She turned around-

“I’m sorry,” they both said at the same time.

Armin bit his lips to stop himself from smiling, while gazing at Annie’s stoic face, with a slight dip between her eyebrows.

They talked, confessed, together at the same time, their words overlapping.

“I know your craft means so much to you-”

“I’ve been leaving you out of this-”

“I don’t mean that you should spend every single moment with me-”

“And I want to spend more time with you-”

Then the last sentence, they breathed it together, “I promise to be a better person.”

Their eyes on each other, blue meeting blue.

Magnetic force pulled them towards each other, capturing each other's lips, hands running over each other's bodies.

Their clothes were stripped and thrown on the floor, while the groceries in the kitchen were left untouched.

~~~

The most valuable times for Annie were these moments when she woke up beside him, heads on the same pillow, skin on skin, under the blankets.

The warmth like an aura around his body made her alive, incomparable to soft rays of early morning sun filtering through the window.

It was so early and everything was quiet, even the ocean fell in a quiet slumber.

Without moving, she checked the time.

There was still a couple of hours before Armin's usual wake up time.

She usually got up before him, went on an extra walk, or maybe a dip in the ocean.

But getting up from bed and leaving this beauty behind would be as bad as a crime.

So she stayed, watching his face. His breath warm on her face, his lips slightly parted, bangs ruffled on his forehead. Mildly, she caressed them, brushing them off his forehead. Before she cupped his cheek, and she held the world and the sun and the ocean— all together in her palm.

His eyelashes fanned upon his closed eyes like sun rays. She tilted her head up, and kissed his eyelid, soft, like a feather.

Armin was a light sleeper, the last thing she wanted was to ruin his sleep.

A cold breeze wafted through the window, Annie shivered. She noticed Armin hunching his back, he must be cold as well.

She inched closer, cautious, wrapping her arms around his frame, over his shoulder, nesting her head on his chest. The warmth radiating off his body relaxed her muscles, and in those moments, deep inside, something would stir in her, feelings she wasn’t aware she would experience one day.

Arms wrapped around her, and she tensed, did she wake him up?

She peeked up at him, he was already watching her, his eyes barely open.

He tried to speak, but no voice came out. After he cleared his throat, he tried again, “Good… morning.” his voice deep, hoarse.

She rubbed her feet against the mattress, “Did I wake you up?” she whispered.

He squinted his eyes, deep in thought, “If I said no?”

“Good.”

“And if I said yes?”

Annie runs her tongue on the inside of her teeth, “I can make it up for you.”

At that, Armin props himself up on one elbow, raising an eyebrow, beckoning her to continue.

With one finger pointing at his chest, she said, “I’ll make you breakfast.”

He snorted, the voice vibrated through Annie’s body, and she had to swallow.

“No,” was his simple, predictable answer.

“Your lose,” She said, swinging her legs off the bed, but before she could stand up, arms wrapped around her, rolling her in bed.

~~~

Breakfast time was long gone, so, after Armin went through the groceries from the night before, he made a light meal for both of them. While he cooked, Annie watched him, sitting on the counter, her legs swinging.

She enjoyed watching him cook, muscles of his arms flexing as he cut tomatoes, brushing his bangs away from his face, wiping his hands on the towel.

By that point she could blindly sculpt a statue of his body.

He also enjoyed catching her off guard, catching her eyes every now and then. When they first moved together, she would blush furiously and avert her eyes, but now, even though she still blushes, sometimes she would pay him back with a sudden kiss, or sometimes she would dare him with more than a kiss.

It was the privilege of a peaceful life, the result of going to hell and back, tolerating an agonizing pain for years.

A slow-paced life, where everything was in place, everything was right.

They reached the end of the labyrinthine, they might as well celebrate their victory.

Post afternoon, and after a meal with their legs tangled under the table, they strolled along the shore.

Annie never imagined that she would settle down in a cabin by the beach, every day the seagulls waking her up, and every night the ocean waves lulling her to sleep.

Hand by hand, shoes off, the sand tickling her feet, like walking on a pile of feathers.

The sun above them soft on their skin, a chilly afternoon, perfect for a walk.

Armin tried so hard to keep his gaze on the horizon, fighting the urge to peak down and hunt for shells.

He wouldn’t rest until he found the perfect shell for Annie’s piece.

However, he remembered his promise to Annie, wanted to spend more time with her, she wanted to spend more time with him.

An especially shiny shell caught his attention, tempting him to kneel down, and plunge his hands in the sand and go back to the cabin with a bag full of new shells. 

“I was thinking of going to town for a few days,” Annie said, catching Armin off guard, “my father wrote to me and said he’s holding a dinner, and we’re invited.” 

“Oh, yeah sure,” Armin answered. Her father lived only half an hour away, in the town, alongside a couple of their old friends as well.

They lived with him for a couple of weeks before, as they went hunting for their own place. He was an old nice man, but he certainly had a temper.

Armin was exceptionally nervous around her father for the first few months. For what reason, he still didn’t know, but something about that man made him rethink everything he wanted to say twice.

But after all, her father accepted their relationship, if not a bit too dramatically, for he cried and hugged Armin for the first time.

In the end, they had to move out, Annie was adamant they had their own house.

Armin smiled, “You can move out and live with your father.”

Annie raised an eyebrow.

“You know, I can move with you-” his voice got muffled; Annie’s palm on his mouth.

“No.”

“Whyyyy?” he asked, his voice choked up with a laugh, he wanted to try biting Annie’s hand on his mouth.

“If each of us would get a different room, then yeah sure,” she answered, lowering her hand, and continuing her walk.

“Not my fault you’re too loud-”

Annie started running.

The nearby village could hear Armin’s howling laugh. 

~~~

Annie waited at the cabin longer than Armin would need to catch up to her. She wondered what was taking him so long, though she had a clear idea what was holding him off.

She waited by the door, but then the sun got a little uncomfortable, so she went inside. She hated that the first thing she thought of was checking Armin’s workshop.

She immediately shook her idea, shoving it away. Intrusiveness wasn’t her trait.

But the door glowed in her sight. Walking to it, and turning the knob seemed like the most tempting thing ever.

No

“No,” she said it out loud, to convince herself to stop.

She would certainly be upset if she was in his shoes. She would never do that to him.

Nope.

Never.

One 

Two 

Three

She walked to the door. An old, small door, compared to a standard door, Armin had to bend to get through, but Annie bet she can walk through it, with her head brushing the door frame.

A tiny place for a workshop, she thought, she wondered how he keeps his tools there, the dozens of seashells bags going there, never going out again.

She was burning to know what was in there.

She was in front of the door, she could lift her hand, and turn the knob, and she could see it all for herself.

Finally,

She reached for the antique door knob.

Her palm rested on it.

Turn it turn it turn it turn it-

She twirled and walked away, right to their bedroom, without even a glance back.

A minute or two after, she heard the door of the cabin open and close. Annie got up, not thinking much of it, “Hey what took you so long-”

Armin stood there, with a handful of seashells in his hands.

Annie threw her head back…

One

Two 

Three

“Listen-”

“It hadn’t even been a day, not a single day had passed,” Annie said, frustration evident in her voice, which was as rare as the sky turning green.

“Annie, I can explain.”

Annie crossed her arms, waiting for him to explain.

Armin sighed, he didn’t want to spoil the surprise, he had to come up with something.

“I’m making something.”

“Yeah no shit.”

“No no no I mean I’m making something,” he said, his closed clutch on the seashells flailing around.

Annie sighed, “Try again.”

“I’m honest, I’m making something.”

“And?” she inquired.

A moment of silence passed, Armin trying so hard to come up with something, anything.

Annie knew that face very well, the face Armin makes when he’s trying to come up with a good fight in a debate, the face he does when he would lob a few words to hypnotize a whole crowd of people.

But not on her.

Never on her.

She knew him too well for his own good.

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, returning to their room. She threw over her shoulder, “Tomorrow is the dinner at my father’s house,” before she vanished from sight.

Armin, left alone, stared down at the seashells in his hands.

~~~

Armin spent most of the night in his workshop, his hands working, but his mind somewhere else.

He didn’t talk to Annie since their confrontation, nor did any of them eat.

Embarrassment gnawed at him, he promised her, yet he broke the promise.

He must be a terrible partner.

Armin sighed.

He wondered why he was even trying to make Annie a piece of jewelry, to win her heart? 

Pfft

She was better off without him anyway.

She could leave him at any second and he wouldn’t even question it. She was smart, pretty, skillful, talented, gorgeous, sweet, and... nice.

And what was he? He couldn’t think of one good trait about himself. Not good enough to match hers.

And he fucked up.

He groaned, letting his head fall on the desk.

The pile of the new shells sat in his sight line, waiting to be cleaned of the sand, but he had no intention of doing so. He wanted to cage himself in his workshop forever, rather than facing Annie again after he broke his promise.

Armin swallowed, wondering how he would meet her father the next day.

Mr. Leonhart was protective, way too protective. Armin knew he wouldn’t hesitate to cut off Armin’s head if he hurt Annie.

Naaah.

He thought. Annie is much more mature than that.

He snorted at himself, he had some stupid thoughts sometime, but this one was the stupidest of them all.

Annie ranting to her father about her boyfriend.

Pffft

Armin straightened his back on the chair, thinking of what he should do.

Then, at that moment, a glimmer caught his eyes.

Armin shook his head, peeking outside the small, circular window.

He wasn’t sure if it came from outside or from the inside, but then it happened again, this time, he was sure it came from the inside of the workshop. Armin looked around, trying to find it.

The moon light filtering through the glass, gleaming upon the pile of seashells accumulated on his desk.

The glimmer happened again.

But that time, Armin caught it.

It came from one of the seashells. 

Armin scattered the pile on the desk, going over each shell, rotating it under the moonlight, trying to find that one seashell.

On his seventh try, he found it.

Something clicked, and Armin knew exactly what he had to do. Everything cleared in his mind, and he found it absurd that he only saw it now.

Locked in his small workshop, with his back bowed down. Armin finished his perfect piece when the first ray of sunshine broke the night.

.

.

.

uwu thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed! next chapter (which is much much longer) will be posted in a couple of days or so can't wait for the other ships to make their cameos hahhaaa thank you for reading! like always, feedback, kudos, all is much appreciated

#aruani #armin arlert #Annie Leonhardt #armin x annie #aot #snk #attack on titan #fanfiction #snk fanfiction #shingeki no kyojin #jeanpiku #jean kirschtien x pieck finger #pikujean #reiner braun x hitch dreyse #Mikasa Ackerman #I think mikasa deserves to move on #these ships will appear in the next chapter #love yall #hope you enjoy

[ddarker-dreams]

Wouldn’t It Be Nice. Yan Jotaro x Reader [COMM]

warnings: isolation mentions, very brief and minor injury ment, just general yandere stuff word count: 2.1k

“We’re here.” 

You let out a low hum of acknowledgement at Jotaro’s statement, lifting your head from its previous position of resting against the car window. It’s bright and early in the morning, the sun just starting to peak up over the clouds, bathing the world in a soft glow of warm colors. Jotaro turns the keys, the engine’s purring dying down into a final sputter. Throughout the drive from the hotel you’re staying in, you’ve been in and out of sleep, not used to being up bright and early. Normally your repetitive days blend together like watercolors, faint and indescribable from each other. This serves to be a new palette, an opportunity to see the world with your own eyes. 

Ignoring the dull ache from your legs, you step onto solid ground and stretch. Jotaro’s preoccupied with opening the car trunk, gathering his equipment and the few items you wanted to bring along. An umbrella, beach chair, towel, and some books to read. You fiddle with hands, shifting your weight as silence encompasses you both. He doesn’t so much as struggle with all the heavy items in hand, but the part of you that feels polite feels inclined to offer assistance. 

“Do you, uh, need any help with that…?” You inquire, taking a step forward and preparing to reach out should he agree. Aquamarine eyes flicker towards your clumsy proposal, searching for something unknown and coming up short. As you expect, he turns you down with a decisive shake of the head. It’s impossible to quell the curiosity of knowing what flashes through his mind, his body language hardly ever giving hints to his intentions, aside from taut muscles and grimaces.

“I’ve got it.” 

His tone isn’t meant to sound harsh, it’s just how his voice naturally sounds. You still can’t control the natural reflex of shrinking away at his rebuttal, an uncomfortable silence drowning over you both. He pauses for a brief moment, staring you down, parting his lips before closing them. Time feels like it’s at a stand still, until his attention returns to the awaiting beach. Neither of you make any further attempts at conversation, you trailing a foot behind him as he walks onto the sand. The tension from before melts from your person at the sight of soothing ocean waves, the ground underneath you growing softer, nostalgia coming in full force.

He sets up your area before getting to work on his own tasks, steadying the umbrella in the sand and unfolding the beach chair. You mutter a quiet thank you as he places the finishing touches down, a cooler that had water and sandwiches for if you needed them. The details of this trip are still largely muddled, Jotaro never has been one to over indulge his business. All you managed to squeeze out of him is that he’s taking samples, something about plankton and checking on the local ecosystem. The jargon went over your head. What matters most is that, after being on your best behavior, you’ve earned a trip outside of your normally reclusive lifestyle. Anything is better than having to stare at the same four walls everyday, trying to reminisce on what your life was like before you met Jotaro Kujo.

“I won’t be too long.” Jotaro calls over to you, walking towards the receding waves and setting off to work. You nod your head, settling back into your seat. The beach you’ve arrived at has no other signs of life, aside from seagulls calling to one another and the occasional crab you spot. Human beings are out of the question, Jotaro likely having chosen this spot for the lack of them. He can’t always keep an eye on you, no matter how much he wants to. Having him stuck to your hip like glue has been suffocating, and you’re grateful for the break. 

Staying within the confines of the shade the umbrella brings, your mind drifts into a land of daydreams. The world around you fades away, replaced with thoughts of better times. Where you didn’t have to constantly be on guard, around a man who claimed to care for you, despite rarely showcasing it. Your quality of life improved the slightest bit when you stopped acting combative towards him, taking a more passive approach to get through the days. Jotaro didn’t change his conduct around you much, aside from a few offerings to travel alongside him if his job required going to a secluded area. These opportunities are few and far between, and you always jump at the chance to see the world you were stolen from again. 

Preoccupied with your thoughts, you’re unaware of a presence lingering over you, until something wet and slippery drops onto your leg. A startled gasp leaves your lips at the unexpected sensation, your body jolting up to identify the source of the feeling. Eyebrows furrowing together, you spot Jotaro wading in the ocean, bending over and observing different objects. So where did this come from…? Squinting, you continue searching around, before spotting Star Platinum staring at you expectantly. 

Oh. So that’s what’s going on here.

Now having a better understanding of the situation, you realize the item on your thighs is a bunch of seaweed. Cold droplets of water fall onto your skin, causing a shiver to course throughout your body. He hovers above you, eyes almost doe-like as he excitedly searches for a positive response to his gift. Lazily rubbing away the sleepiness that threatens to consume you, you pluck the seaweed up to inspect it closer. You’re not sure what led the Stand to giving you this bizarre gift, but decide to thank him for the effort regardless. He’s never given a reason to earn your ire, a friendlier companion than his own User.

“Thank you,” you glance from his gift and then back to him, placing the seaweed by your side for safekeeping. “So, this is for me?” 

He nods his head, offering a soft “ora!” in excited confirmation. Star Platinum doesn’t make any movements to disappear, and you can only assume Jotaro has no idea his Stand is wandering about on its own merit. The first -- and likely last -- time that you surprised Jotaro was when he realized you could see his Stand, having a Stand of your own. Ever since then, he’s made it a point not to allow Star Platinum around you, for whatever reasons. There’s no way to confirm the gnawing suspicion that it’s because he’s embarrassed by how enthusiastic the Stand is in your presence, though it’s the theory you go with.

You realize in the time spent searching for a plausible explanation, Star Platinum had been gathering more knick knacks. Settled in his muscular, phantom arms, are various objects that litter the beach. Seashells, sea glass, and a few colorful rocks. The one item that sticks out to you the most, is a very peeved looking hermit crab, its legs flailing in the air. 

“Star, you have to put that little guy down. I think he’s wondering why he’s floating…” You sit up, pointing at the huffy hermit crab. The Stand blinks, considering your proposal, then concedes with your wishes. If only Jotaro were this agreeable, your life might be a bit better. With surprising care, he places the crab back onto the sand, then looks back to you. Is he hoping to be praised for following through with your request? Tilting your head to the side, he mimics the movement. 

“What else did you find?” While you ask this, you cross your legs together, waving for the Stand to come closer. He does so without hesitation, dumping the treasures in front of you. You search through the combination of items, fixating on a pretty, amethyst sea glass. It feels coarse in your hands. You inspect it, a rougher side of it managing to nick your finger in the process. Dropping the item at the unexpected jolt of pain, a small curse leaves your lips. Star Platinum floats to your hand, frantically taking hold of your hand. 

“It’s all good,” you reassure him with a sheepish smile. “Just a small cut. It won’t do too much damage.” 

Star Platinum doesn’t appear convinced, fawning over your effected finger with great displeasure. This serves as further reinforcement that he’s Jotaro’s soul manifest, as they both worry over you the same amount. Star Platinum doesn’t look to be convinced by you. Larger, ghost-like hands envelope your own. It’s strange how a Stand so powerful is capable of showing a softer side, only for your eyes. You can’t help the fluttering of your heart at its potent concern, not used to being fussed over having physical touch accompanying it. Jotaro will chastise you should you ever do something to displease him, without laying a hand on you. Star Platinum is different in that regard, taking every opportunity he has to touch you.

“Here, how about this,” you grab into your bag, procuring a book that Jotaro bought at your behest. “I can still hold it, see? It’s not a big deal at all.” 

Not wanting the Stand’s guilt to transfer over to the User, your mind searches for a way to mend the situation. This time without Jotaro breathing down your neck is to be relished, you won’t let it end earlier than it needs to. Opening back up to the page you left off on, you motion for Star Platinum to look over your shoulder.

“Do you want me to read for you?” You ask, taken aback by how swiftly he nods his head in confirmation. This wholehearted approach to life is so unlike Jotaro, you sometimes wonder how this can be his Stand. It’s in total contrast to the man’s stoic, seemingly dispassionate way of going throughout life. Maybe you’ll ask if you can interact with Star Platinum more often, with how eager he is to please you, it can be a bit addicting. Your own Stand is stirring within, though you don’t want to let it out in fear of how it may be interpreted. Revealing your Stand is often associated with trying to use it, and knowing Jotaro, would be taken as a sign of rebellion. Maintaining the delicate balance that consists of your turbulent relationship with Jotaro takes priority. 

“Well, this story is about a girl who has a ghost, and lives in a town full of them. Unlike Stands though, her ghost is haunting her, and tells her people’s thoughts…” 

Jotaro secures the final amount of samples required for testing, having just finished the checklist he was assigned. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he sets back to shore, thinking about the plans for the rest of the day. You’re probably going to be hungry by the time he gets back. Maybe a visit to a restaurant wouldn’t be so bad…? It’s been over half a year since you’ve made a fuss over your situation, and he hopes it stays that way. Jotaro is uncertain of what to do when you’re crying, overwhelmed by the tidal wave of emotions that came with your initial resistance. He decides that going around that many people is too much of a risk, you’ll both get room service when you’re back at the hotel.

He doesn’t notice anything out of the ordinary at first. That is, until he spots his own Stand hovering right by your side, bewitched by your every word. Jotaro clicks his tongue, calling Star Platinum back, pushing down his hat to hide the flush of his cheeks. When did his Stand come out, and how did he not notice? Internally, he prays that Star didn’t do anything unsightly in front of you. At his appearance by your side, you stop reading aloud your book, realizing that Jotaro must be the reason Star Platinum disappeared. 

Frowning, you close the book. “He wasn’t doing anything wrong.” 

“I finished up here,” he doesn’t want to talk about the flustering events from before, already bringing the umbrella down without asking if you’re ready to leave. “We can go get breakfast.” 

At the mention of a solid meal, you shoot up, thinking of what you’re going to order. Jotaro’s grateful for how well he knows you, and how adept he’s grown at redirecting you. It’s a most useful skill, not that you ever seem interested in teasing him. Without thinking, he hands you the container that holds his samples, hoping it’ll serve to keep your attention. 

It works like a charm, you asking about the nature of the water samples on the walk back to the car. 

#Jotaro Kujo #Kujo Jotaro #yandere Jotaro #part 4 jotaro #jotaro x reader #kujo jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro x reader #yandere jotaro kujo x reader #yandere jotaro kujo #yandere jotaro imagine #yandere #yandere x reader #JoJo's Bizzare Adventure #jojo's bizarre adventures #JJBA #yandere jjba #yandere jjba x reader #yandere jjba imagine #my stuff #commissions

[10kiaoi]

For the 007 Fest Anon prompts: Magical realism

Scav hunt item #55: Create art using a prompt from the MI6Cafe Weekly Art Prompts + “Mayday”

Notes: Unbetaed as always. Canon typical violence.

"Mayday, mayday, mayday-!"

The city is caught in a deluge when he arrives. 

Traffic is backed up for miles, vehicle after vehicle trapped in complete  frustrating gridlock. 

He's walked the two miles to his destination, leaving behind an irate cab driver with a generous tip for his trouble.

Along the way, a young nymph looking to be no more than 10 summers old, offers a flower garland weaved of fresh white Heather from the shelter of a narrow porch. He eyes the fresh cut hanging over the front door. 

He purchases two, to the girl's cheery delight. 

----

“We've lost three engines! Requesting immediate vectors to the nearest airfield! Mayday, mayday, mayday! Shit, Number 4's go-"

----

One mile in, he stumbles across a heavily flooded street.

Earsplittingly loud lighting cracks overhead, an occasional flash that lights the street up. 

The flood waters are ice cold. With the water level at thigh height, his wellies do nothing to keep them from gushing around his equally frozen feet. He resigns himself to a hot bath later.

Here, no cars are able to pass through at all. 

Despite the hazards, there are people out and about in front of their buildings. There are merchants desperately hauling their merchandise to higher ground, attempting to salvage what they can from the havoc. Some are putting up brightly coloured banners and decorative displays. At every door, a stalk of white Heather hangs, children gleefully arranging whole seashells in intriguing patterns around them. 

The mood, though dampened by the terrible weather, borders on festive. 

There are neighbours exchanging sweet breads, a friendly trade of roasted poultry, a shared fish or two in covered dishes to shield the food from the downpour. 

Their joy is a distant consideration in comparison to his inner disquiet. 

An elderly man catches sight of him standing and staring openly at the activities. He glances down to his hand, to the two Heather garlands cradled protectively.  The old man tuts reprovingly and wades through the waters towards him. 

"Shells," the old man tuts as he offers two perfect clam shells, canine tail wagging, "Intention means nothing without it."

He crosses the street, with his gifts in hand. 

----

"Mayday, mayday, mayday! We've lost all four engines- Christ, we're not going to make it back to land-!" 

----

He hears the adolescents well before he sees them. 

In a deserted street, dull with old street lamps and filthy storefronts, the hooded teens giggle with cruel delight as they rip down fabric banners and shatter the crystal glass figurines of various marine creatures. The lovely shells and stalks of white Heather meet the same dismal fate.

Amidst their destruction, one of the teens happens to look up, forked tongue flickering out to taste the wind. Their eyes drop to his arms and they elbow their companions. The group sneers, wisely backing off momentarily and not doing anything as foolish as engage him in a fight. 

Given his state of mind, it is more than likely that the teens will not come out the other end of the fight unscathed despite the protection of armoured scales. 

"The sea witch's a fucking sham anyways!" the kid yells over their retreating backs, "ya'll nuts for believing that shit!" 

When the last teen disappears round the street corner, he sighs, taking the moment to sweep the glass shards to the side with his foot instead of leaving them in the middle of the pavement for some poor sod to injure themselves on later. The rising waters will take care of the mess soon enough anyways. 

The glint of light on glass draws his eye to the ledge, where several pristine figures lie untouched. He is irrepressibly drawn to one in particular- a carving not of an animal but a floating feather caressed by an invisible wind. 

His eyes surveys the street warily for a moment. The glass feather slips unnoticed into the depths of his jacket. 

In the distance, the sea churns with rage. 

----

"Mayday, mayday, may-"

----

There is little else he can do but scour the shores, buffeted by strong gusts and blinded by sea spray. 

The boats are all docked away, no skipper daring enough to take on the sea in her volatility. The worst of the storm is miles away from land, but its effects are felt all the same. 

A set of files arrives in his email courtesy of Q Branch and Tanner- maps and coordinates and prediction models, all of which he studies intensively in the comfort of his temporary safe house. The glass feather sits prominently besides his laptop, a silent but steadfast companion to his activities. 

It, along with the Heather garlands and clam shells, bear witness to him smashing his ceramic mug in a fit of fury. 

The lone image glares accusingly at him from his laptop screen, a low quality shot worsened by the movement of the camera it was shot with. 

The object is a blurry mess, details rendered indistinct by the rolling waves and heavy rainfall. But enough of the form remains for the item to be identified- its implications are what trigger his episode of temper. 

A lone tail fin, ripped from its place at the rear of an aircraft, is a death sentence. 

----

He's on his fifth bottle, drowning his sorrows with a vengeance. Outside, the deluge lets up a little into a light patter against the balcony. 

The helplessness weighs heavily like an albatross around his neck. 

Squeals waft up from the street below, a pod of local mers grasping the opportunity the flood waters present and taking the chance to explore streets they have never traversed before. Their melodious cries of astonishment and wonder, once music to his ears, prove too much for the dark cloud hanging over him. 

He throws back his head against the couch and guzzles down more bitter ale. 

----

He comes to in his tiled bathroom, curled over the toilet seat with acidic sick stinking up his nose. It's no gentle thing, he wakes up with a jerk, disorientated and without memory of how he has gotten to the bathroom in the first place. Adrenaline rushes through his veins. 

With the fog in his head clearing up, he notices the rattling coming from his balcony, accompanied by quiet curses. 

He gets up, hand curling around the walther under his arm. He creeps towards the source of the commotion, feet as light as a cat's paws. Whatever and whomever the intruder is, he's of no mood to be gracious. 

The rattling pauses, an indignant squawk of frustration follows it. 

It speaks volumes of his training, both military and 00 that he does not drop his piece from shock. 

There on his balcony, his Quartermaster scowls angrily at the offending lock while looking like a drowned rat. 

In his chest, his heart leaps. 

His movement draws Q's attention and it's then he's hollered at to "open the bloody doors before I kick them down!" 

There's no word vast enough, deep enough to encompass the depth of his emotions as he swiftly undoes the lock and throws the double doors open. Heather and shells are sent flying but all he cares for is pulling Q into a bone crushing embrace. 

----

The rain picks up, droplets soaking through the cotton of his shirt. The front is already soaked through, thoroughly pressed against a sopping wet Quartermaster as he is. 

He pulls them inside, away from the storm, away from the windows. Disbelief and hope war within his chest as he studies Q with an anxious eye, warm towels in his hand to replace soaked clothes. 

He says nothing of the massive bruising on Q's torso, a large swath that belies the extent of physical trauma its owner has gone through. 

Belatedly, he registers the noticeable lack of glasses, the raw scrapes and bruising over pale cheeks and knuckles. 

The hulking set of white wings tipped with black and dusty grey. 

"Albatross," he breathes reverently.

He'd assumed from Q's presence in the tunnels of Q Branch, the way he draws comfort from his underground haven, that his Quartermaster is a member of an underground species of sorts- a Null even, rare as truly non-magical folk are amongst the general population. The personnel file certainly hasn’t provided much insight either given their propensity for obfuscation when executive members of staff are involved.  

"Yes, well, turns out I was just a late bloomer" Q sniffs, squinting at a dust speck on the wall through the conspicuous lack of glasses, "you're not on the water all the time either." 

Bond smiles indulgently though offers no contest. 

With his parents and kin long gone, there was simply no incentive to remain near his family’s seat of power all the time. The murky depths of the loch holds no interest, lacking in the thrill and constant entertainment cities like London offer. Besides-

First M, a hawk, now Q, an albatross - he's always been drawn to the sky much more than his peers. 

He feels out Q's wings carefully, stretching one out to examine the feathers and bone. The appendage trembles under his tentative scrutiny, morphing into a full body shiver that goes right down to Q's toes. The first wing passes muster, so he moves on to the other. 

Q yelps loudly as his fingers prod a particular sore spot. 

It has him relaxing his fingers immediately, though he does not cease supporting the injured wing. 

"I don't think it's broken," Q whimpers, fingers twisting anxiously. 

Like a dam, Q's hard won composure crumbles. "Couldn't get them out," Q sobs, "They were too far forward, I barely got myself out-" The frantic babble dies away into hitched sobs. 

He croons lightly in response, a soothing rumble he's heard mers sing to their fry. He runs his fingers through mussed curls, letting the grief and guilt run its course. 

The kit he has isn't stocked for treating winged individuals or traumatised ones for that matter, but he's a witch- he'll make the best with what he has. He'll get them both home. 

---

In the distance, the sea finally calms.

#00q #007 fest #007 fest 2020 #teambondvillains #james bond #007 #quartermaster #art by op #fanfics #hms 00q

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 2

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader

Summary: House Caspian’s only daughter returns to Winterfell, with her family in tow. She’s delighted to see her friends again, but with the end of the visit comes very startling news.

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Only two weeks passed before Y/N got her first letter from Lyanna. It was a long one, full of enthusiasm and clumsy penmanship, asking after Y/N, her family and full of questions about Ramsgate and their keep, Whitetide. Why are your lands called Ramsgate? Are there lots of goats when you move away from the sea? How big is Whitetide? Is it really right on top of the beach?

Y/N eagerly wrote back, and her mother gave her the idea to include some seashells, a starfish and a sand dollar, all little treasures that Y/N collected on her many walks on the beach. She couldn’t wait for Lyanna’s response, asking the guard who watched for deliveries every day if there was something for her. Lady Talia finally had to ask her to leave the poor man alone.

But the next correspondence was by raven, of all things, a little message with a cute drawing of a direwolf and a big thank you from Lyanna and Benjen. The maester handed it to her parents with great confusion, and they in turn blinked at it before giving it to Y/N. She gladly kept it safe in her sketchbook.

The next letter detailed the great scolding Lyanna received for using one of Winterfell’s ravens. She worried her mother wouldn’t let her send any letters at all, but instead she was forced to stay inside for two weeks helping Nan knit and practicing her penmanship with the maester. Y/N giggled at the thought, and made a point to compliment Lyanna’s handwriting. She could already imagine the girl’s grimace and cramped hand.

The letters became a staple in the next year. It was towards the end of the ninth moon when Lyanna sent an especially long one. Y/N read it halfway before she was jumping on top of her bed in excitement.

She ran down the steps, nearly crashing into a washerwoman and narrowly avoiding a guard. Lady Talia frowned at her daughter arriving in the great hall in such a breathless flurry. “Y/N, you’ll trip over your skirts and break open your head if you carry on like that —”

“Mother! Are we going back to Winterfell?”

Lady Talia almost dropped baby Rickard. She recovered herself and sighed. “Oh, it was supposed to be a surprise! Did your father tell you?”

“No, Lyanna did!” Y/N waved the letter at her mother, too fast for the woman to actually look at it’s contents. “When are we going? Is it soon? Is it tomorrow?”

“Yes, soon, sweetling. Think about what things you want to pack. It will be a long stay, so bring all your dresses and some books.”

Y/N almost didn’t hear her. She was buzzing. How long was a long stay? How soon was soon? She would’ve asked a dozen more questions if her mother hadn’t shooed her out.

Two maids helped her pack. Y/N expected to use the small wooden trunk she and Willam shared last time. It was colorfully painted and had manta rays carved into the sides, so she especially liked it. Instead, the maids brought in two large trunks, the ones grown-up ladies used to transport their fine gowns and furs. She gaped at all the space on the inside, and how finely it was lined. A whole person could fit in there, or at least both her and Willam!

She already pulled dresses from the armoire — it was easy, she only had so many — but the maid was taking everything out of her closet, even her long winter socks that probably didn’t fit anymore. The other maid was neatly stacking all of her books.

“Oh, um, I was only taking four,” Y/N said to her.

The maid smiled. “You’ll want all of them, milady.”

No, I only wanted four, Y/N thought, but the maids listened to her lady mother, not her. It would be useless to argue with them. If the men who packed up the carts complained about the weight of her trunks, she’d know what to tell them.

At dinner, her father asked, “All excited for the trip, little ray?” and he was delighted with his daughter’s enthusiastic response. She hadn’t noticed her mother looking less excited, but Lady Talia still gave Y/N a smile when she looked her way.

“I’m going too!” Willam declared, as if he worried he was going to be left behind. Lord Gareth tousled his hair and promised he could ride along with the knights and guards.

Seeing Winterfell for the second time was just like the first;  breathtaking and no less a marvel. It was still hard to believe that a castle that big existed, and it was so close to Ramsgate, and she had a friend waiting inside. She was buzzing to get out of the carriage and just run up to the gates herself, but her mother was far less permissive than her uncle. She fretted over Y/N’s hair and tried to smooth her dress as they rode through the gate, and Y/N used every fiber of self-control not to squirm away. Her mother’s eyes said she was not in the mood to be disobeyed.

Finally, finally, the carriage door opened. Before the Winterfell guard could even greet her, she was flying down the steps.

Y/N heard her mother calling, but she pretended not to hear. The cold, saltless air blew through her hair, and she took a deep breath. It smelled like the dirt of the yard, the savory smoke from the kitchens and the distant pine of the forests. She only had a few moments to take it all in before the wind was thrown right out of her lungs.

Y/N choked as arms were thrown around her. She very nearly teetered over, the only thing stopped her was Lyanna yanking her back. The girl had a frightening grip. “Y/N! You’re here! It’s been forever!”

“I-I am!” Y/N coughed. “My mother is here this time, and Willam is back, and I have some things for you, and —”

“Lyanna, unhand the poor girl.” Lady Stark’s voice was familiar, but her appearance was a surprise again. Y/N realized she’d somewhat forgotten what the Lady looked like, but she remembered the pretty, long hair and grey eyes. “Y/N, it’s good to see you again, sweetling.”

Y/N was able to do a proper curtsy once she was unhanded, but she still felt a little dizzy. “Thank you for having me again, Lady Stark.”

“Where’s your lady mother, and lord father? Goodness, did you run ahead of them?” Lady Stark shook her head, but she didn’t seem truly upset. Had she always been so pale, though? Y/N couldn’t recall, and her friend easily took her attention away.

“Y/N, we have some new horses! You haven’t seen them yet, they’re so pretty. I’ve gotten to ride them already.” Lyanna just realized something. “Mother, can I show her?”

Y/N was expecting Lady Stark to put up a fuss, as her mother might have, but the woman looked too tired. She simply nodded and waved the two girls away. Y/N wondered if it was truly okay, even as Lyanna pulled on her hand. Y/N went along, figuring she’d see her parents and the Lord and Lady Stark at dinner tonight, anyhow. She could do her proper courtesies then.

To Lyanna’s disappointment, the new horses she was so proud of had been taken out on a hunt, so the next stop was the library of Winterfell, which surprised Y/N. She hadn’t taken Lyanna for the type to read these huge, dusty things, but it wasn’t a huge or dusty book that Lyanna pulled out. There was an old chest at the bottom of one of the bookshelves, and when she opened it, a collection of rolled-up parchment was inside. 

Y/N’s nose wrinkled at the smell. “Are we allowed to look at these?”

“They’re here for the Starks.” Lyanna replied. Y/N felt like her friend could have unrolled the old parchment a little neater.

Lyanna set two heavy inkpots in either side of the parchment to keep it from rolling back. The beautiful drawings unfurled before her, and Y/N realized it was a stylistic, detailed map of Westeros. She gasped in delight. “Oh, it’s so pretty!”

The linework was so fine and detailed, each little mountain, tree and even tiny ships on waves were drawn out. She immediately looked for Ramsgate, and it saddened her that the Caspian ray was not there. It was still the merman of Manderly. This must have been a very old map, then.

“Your manta ray isn’t here!” Lyanna realized it as well, perhaps for the first time. “Hmph. They should update these dusty old things.”

“I don’t think that’s possible ... It’s still beautiful.” Y/N said. She sat in the chair with Lyanna; it was so wide, both of them could sit in it with just a little discomfort. Lyanna was skinny for her age, but she was already taller than Y/N. Y/N could swear they were the same height last year. “I love how they painted Winterfell. There’s even direwolves around it, and look here, each castle has its Godswood drawn, too. You can even see some of the Godswoods in the Southern castles, but they’re not as good as the one in Winterfell.”

Lyanna was proud of that. She pointed out some of her favorite parts of the map: The kraken encircling the Iron Islands, the collection of trouts running down Riverrun, the beautiful flowers and crops that covered most of the Reach. She and Y/N shivered as they saw the detailed flayed man of the Boltons, and they admired the horses of the Ryswells.

Lyanna pointed toward the Vale, where the Eyrie was drawn in splendid detail, its white, blue and dark grey ink only slightly faded. A beautiful sky-blue falcon perched on top of it. She tapped it with her finger and sighed. “Ned’s here.”

Y/N didn’t quite understand. She floated her own finger above the parchment, tracing from Winterfell all the way to the Eyrie. “But why? It’s so far away,” She said. “It takes days to get from Whitetide to Winterfell, and only if the weather is good. That’s what my father said.”

“I don’t know.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “I didn’t want him to go. He didn’t, either! But mother and father said it was important for young lords to learn … whatever they said. Hmph. Why couldn’t our maester just teach him?”

“And Brandon is the oldest. Shouldn’t he learn all the important things?”

“He should! He’s thick as an aurochs, though. That doesn’t mean I want him to go away to a big, stupid mountain, too. Even if he deserves it.” Lyanna huffed. “Ned writes sometimes, but letters take too long to go up and down the Eyrie, he said so. He said you have to take a donkey to go up, or ride in a basket of turnips!”

“A basket…?”

“They use a rope to pull you up, like getting water from the well.”

That didn’t seem right, but Y/N didn’t know anything about the Eyrie. Lyanna continued with a huff. “The last letter he sent was all about some lord he’s friends with, a boy named Robert. He’s a Baratheon from Storm’s End. He’s the first son of that house, so why did Ned have to go?”

Y/N knew where Storm’s End was. She was familiar with most coastal cities and keeps, like Oldtown and Lannisport, and Storm’s End was no different. It’s two great walls that looked like big drums, her Uncle said, and she was delighted to see it painted just as he described. There was a rearing black stag sitting atop it, and it was just as far from the Eyrie as the direwolf was.

“It must be very sad to be so far from home,” Y/N said. She couldn’t imagine.

Lyanna frowned. “Ned should come home so I don’t have to hear about stupid Robert anymore.”

“Who’s Robert?”

The sudden voice made Y/N yelp and jump almost a foot in the air, and that reaction made Lyanna fall right out of the chair and onto the floor. She scrambled back to her feet. “Benjen! Don’t sneak up on people!”

“It’s not my fault you don’t pay attention. Who’s Robert?”

“The boy from Ned’s letter, remember? We read it together!”

“Are you allowed to take these maps out?” Benjen asked.

“Ugh, we’re done with it, anyway. You really do sneak around like a shadowcat.” Lyanna removed the inkpots and Y/N took charge of carefully rolling the map. Maybe I can look at it later? The pictures are so pretty … Even if it doesn’t have a manta ray.

“I’m bored.” Benjen said. He clearly expected his sister and Y/N to do something about it.

“We can play a game?” Y/N offered. She watched with some concern as Lyanna closed the trunk and tried to shove it back on the shelves. She couldn’t remember if that’s how it looked when they found it.

After much discussion and debate, hide and seek was declared the game of choice… with some rules. Lyanna made it very clear that they were only hiding inside the living area of the keep, and only in rooms they were allowed inside, and only in rooms with no adults. She looked directly to Benjen as she said all of this. Lyanna was declared “it”, and Benjen wasted little time in grabbing Y/N’s sleeve when she began counting.

“Where should I hide?” Y/N asked. “I don’t know the castle. I could get lost.”

“Just keep going down that hall until you see a big window, and choose any of those rooms,” Benjen pointed. “There’s lots of tables to hide under. Oh, if you find a blue yarn ball anywhere, that’s Nan’s. Tell her I didn’t take it.”

Before Y/N could question that, Benjen shoved her in the direction of the long hallway and went scurrying off. Y/N could only faintly hear Lyanna counting in the library, so she hurried, trying to decide which room to dart into. Lyanna would expect her to hide in one of these rooms. After all, Benjen went somewhere else, somewhere that was actually difficult to find.

She noticed one of the rooms was being occupied. The door was closed, but there was light and warmth coming from under it. Y/N suddenly felt she was intruding, so she walked carefully past it. The voices from inside were feminine, and very familiar. She stopped suddenly when she heard her mother’s familiar laugh.

Her mother’s voice drifted behind the wooden door. Y/N leaned against the door, assuming she’d hear her brother or father, but instead there was another lady’s voice. Lady Stark. They were probably doing needlework by the hearth. She was ready to move on, but she heard her name.

“Y/N is a very dear girl, I think she’ll be happy …”

I’ll be what? Y/N pressed her ear against the wood. She remembered the keyhole, and while it was too small to peek, she could put her ear to it.

“You cannot consider the offer,” That was Lady Stark’s voice that sounded so stern, like when she scolded her children. “You musn’t, Talia.”

“I told Gareth about it, but he said …”

“ … Men are foolish about these things, you shall not …”

It was hard to catch the conversation, and Y/N worried about leaning on the door too hard - it might creak - but her curiosity was burning a hole in her. She couldn’t help but pick up several morsels as  she listened in.

“If they think … my only daughter …”

“… We could always … She’s young, but a good child …”

“… It was supposed to be in a few years, Lyarra …”

A pair of hands grasped Y/N’s shoulders, and she screamed as Lyanna tackled her. “YOU’RE IT!”

There was exclamations and the sound of something breaking inside. Lady Stark swung the door open and was greeted to two girls sprawled on the floor. They were promptly dragged inside and forced to sit and participate in the needlework that the two women were doing. Y/N glanced at both Lady Stark and her mother, both peeved, both not picking up whatever conversation they were having earlier … because it was about her.

Y/N tried to focus on threading the needle. I heard my name, there’s no mistaking it. Am I in trouble?

Thirty minutes into the forced needlework, Lyanna gasped and realized they were supposed to find Benjen. Lady Stark sharply told her to sit. Benjen walked past the open doorway a few minutes later anyway, tying some blue yarn into complicated knots. He stuck his tongue out at Lyanna while his mother’s head was down, and Y/N pulled back Lyanna’s arm to keep her from tossing her embroidery hoop.

Y/N enjoyed an entire week at Winterfell, and she didn’t have a moment without the Stark children. Lyanna was an almost constant presence, of course. They had lessons in the day and ate together in the evening, and at night they even shared a room. They’d whisper and chatter under the furs until one of them finally fell asleep, usually Y/N. Benjen often joined in their more lively activities, and even Brandon would come along now and again, although it was usually just to annoy them. He fancied himself an important “man” of fourteen, and didn’t think much of silly girls.

Lyanna didn’t want Y/N to leave, so she tried not to think about how short a week really was. She hated having to waste time doing embroidery and staying inside, even if Y/N made such beautiful drawings on her canvas, and even if she was a surprisingly elegant dancer at her young age.

It was the seventh day, and Lyanna and Y/N groggily went through their morning routine. The septa helped them lace their clothes and braid their hair. Y/N looked over at her chest, still open and … empty?

“Septa Alys, where are my things?” She asked with some concern.

The septa was not terribly old. She had a sweet disposition and was more prone to wringing her hands instead of scolding whenever Lyanna acted up. “They were put away yesterday, dear. Did you not notice?”

“But why? I’m leaving today.”

Septa Alys was more occupied with Lyanna’s hair. “You’ll have to ask your lady mother and lord father, dear.”

“Maybe the servants were mistaken? I’ll help you put it back.” Lyanna offered, but she didn’t sound happy about it. Now that she was properly awake, she was sullen. She spent most of the previous night sulking.

Septa Alys helped Y/N secure the pearl and silver string in her hair, complimenting how lovely it looked with her pretty hair. Y/N didn’t completely hear her. She walked down the hall with Lyanna, who let out another sigh.

“We can still write,” Y/N said. She wasn’t happy, either, but she didn’t want their last day to be so gloomy. “I’ll send you things again, too.”

Thankfully, Lyanna was willing to be cheered. “I want to send you things too, but we don’t have seashells or anything like that here… I’ll think of something. I’ll send you blue rose petals! You wanted to paint them, right?”

“Oh, yes, I’d love that. Weirwood leaves, too. The ones at your Godswood are so big!”

The girls fell into an easy chatter as they entered the great hall for breakfast. The four parents were there, as Y/N expected, but there was no food on the table - they weren’t even sitting yet. Brandon, Benjen and Willam were nowhere to be seen, nor was Ser Roderick or the maester or any of the other staff that were slowly becoming familiar. Lyanna sensed the strangeness, too.

“Mother, what’s going on?” She asked.

“Girls, we have something important to tell you.” Lady Stark beckoned them. She didn’t look as tired this morning, in fact, she seemed like she was trying to keep from smiling too much. Y/N instantly looked to her mother, who was beaming, and her father, who had a smile with tension behind it. Lord Stark looked thoroughly amused.

“Y/N, do you like it here?” Her mother asked.

Y/N thought it was a silly question, and not what it seemed, but she didn’t know how to answer. “Yes, I like Winterfell very much.”

It was Lord Stark’s voice that boomed, and Y/N didn’t expect it. She startled a little. “Would you like to stay here for a longer time, little Y/N?”

She looked to Lyanna, who was just as confused, then to the parents again. “For how much longer, my lord?”

“Well,” Her mother tried to sound excited, but she was using the same voice she reserved for carefully explaining something to Willam, especially after he was about to cry about something. “Until you’re a woman grown, Y/N. In Winterfell you’ll learn to be a proper lady and wife, doing the same lessons as Lyanna. You’ll be like sisters.”

“Sisters?” Lyanna gaped.

“She’ll live with us for a few years, not as a guest, but as family.” Lady Stark said to her daughter. She didn’t speak to them like they were Willam. “You have heard that Ned is fostering in the Eyrie? It is like that, my dear.”

“Oh.”

She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was struck with absolute disbelief, like she was still walking around in a dream and she’d wake to Lyanna’s arm hitting her in the face again. Happiness hit her, excitement, but also nervousness, and then —

“But - Willam is not staying? Mother and father aren’t …?”

“Just you, little ray,” Her father finally spoke. He bent down to her level, still in light armor in spite of the early hour. “With Lady Stark and the septa, you can get a proper education here. You’re our only daughter, and we want you to be taken care of.”

He sounded sad, and his eyes didn’t meet her’s completely, but he took her hand. Y/N felt like she shouldn’t be excited anymore. Could her family not take care of her? Was baby Rickard really so fussy, was Willam really so much more important?

No, Willam might foster in a few years, too, but not here. He’ll be a page or a squire. It’s an important thing for lords to do, especially first-born ... Mother and Father must expect a lot from me ... 

Even if they had another daughter, Y/N was the oldest by far. She was always responsible for Willam, and she’d already helped plenty with baby Rickard. Her septa and maester were also often pleased with how she progressed in her lessons. A sense of duty and pride filled Y/N, combined with all the other swirling emotions. She’d miss her family very much, but her mother had told her many times about the duties of a grown lady. Wasn’t this part of that?

She felt Lyanna take her hand and squeeze it. Y/N could have been sent anywhere else in the North, or like Ned, far away to some mountain keep — to a place where she had no friends, and no familiar faces.

It must have been very hard for him, Y/N thought suddenly, but she shook those thoughts free when she realized everyone wanted a reaction from her. She nodded, looking toward her father first, because addressing everyone felt frightening. She might start crying.

“I’m very happy,” She said, hoping she sounded as such. She wasn’t sure how she felt; too many emotions were buzzing about and not staying still. “I’ll miss you, and mother, and my brothers … will you still visit? Can I visit?”

“Of course! Especially during the harvest season and the melees.” Lord Stark said.

Her mother added, “You’ll write me weekly, I want to read about all the things you’re doing. Time will pass before you know it.”

“It will be so nice to have lessons with you!” Lyanna blurted. Y/N was surprised how still and quiet she was being up until now. “It’s fine enough with Benjen, but he doesn’t do the lady things I have to. Oh! Mother, will we still share a room?”

“Yes, especially when winter comes, it will be too cold —”

The situation had fully sunk into Lyanna’s mind, and now she couldn’t stop. “You could have a horse of your own! Can you ride? No, you told me, so you’ll learn! I’ll teach you! We can watch the fighters spar, and we can walk in the Godswood, and sometimes when father goes to Winter Town —”

“Lyanna.”

She was hardly discouraged by her mother’s sharp tone. Y/N noticed her father looked much happier, and he kissed her brow before standing back up.

“Let’s break our fast, then!” Lord Stark went to his old friend and slapped his back. “I’ll call the rest in, the Others know where Brandon ran off to, though. Lyarra, where’s that son of your’s?”

“Your son is in the yard, swinging that new sword about. Sit beside us on the dais, sweetling.” Lady Stark patted Y/N on the head as she walked past her. Y/N’s mother smiled approvingly, and pulled her soft braid forward. The pearl glinted in the morning light.

“I’ll send you many more things, so you don’t feel so homesick, little ray.” She said. Then she turned to Lyanna. “It will be nice to have a sister for once, won’t it?”

“Yes, thank the gods.” Lyanna said bluntly, and the adults laughed to themselves, even Lady Stark, who was failing to look embarrassed. While the servants poured in to serve the food, and men at arms entered, and finally Benjen, Brandon and Willam, Y/N was quiet. She filled her plate, but much of it was untouched. Her stomach and her chest were fluttering at the same time, and if maybe one of them would settle, she could eat something more.

Lyanna was excited, too excited, enough to make Y/N feel uneasy. Her parents and Lyanna’s parents were pleased, her friend was delighted, the various members of Winterfell expressed their well-wishes.

Winterfell is big and beautiful, and Lyanna is my very best friend, and her brothers are nice, too. Lady Stark, Lord Stark, the maester, Septa Alys… No one has been unkind to me.

Y/N wanted to excuse herself. The hall was noisy, so she could have slipped away, if only they weren’t on the dais. Benjen was beside her, and he leaned in so their shoulders touched. “What’s the matter?”

She glanced up at his big, wondering eyes, and quickly said, “Nothing.”

Very little escaped Benjen, she knew. He was a year younger, but sometimes Y/N felt like he was older - only sometimes, when he wasn’t teasing them or playing a stupid prank. “It’s okay to be unhappy.”

Y/N wasn’t sure what to make of that statement. “I’m not. I like it here. … I’ll just miss home sometimes, I think.”

“It’d be strange to not miss home, right?” Benjen said. “You said you can’t smell the sea here.”

Y/N deflated. Now she truly wanted to cry, but she held it in, and touched her pearl. There were no pearls in Winterfell, no seashells, no sunsets making the water glitter, no giant ships with their billowing sails. There was no smell of salt or sound of waves.

“I’m sorry,” Benjen said quickly. He touched her hand where she left it, under the table, and squeezed her fingers. It was much gentler than the way Lyanna grasped it. “We should go to Whitetide one day.”

“You’d want to go?”

“I’ve never seen the ocean or a manta ray. Not even a ship.” Benjen looked on the other side of Y/N, where Lyanna was sitting. “Lyanna! Let’s go to Ramsgate.”

“What? When?” She stared at Y/N, as if that was who gave the suggestion.

“Um, some day,” Y/N said. “Maybe some day soon. Our castle isn’t big as Winterfell, or Lord Manderly’s keep, but I’ll show you the  beach and the ships.”

She smiled as she thought of that. She could already see Lyanna building sand castles and getting completely dirty, and Benjen would sneak behind her and dump sand down her tunic. Brandon could come, too. He’d watch the ships with her uncle, or even board one, because he was a lordling and a man now. Maybe, somehow, Ned could come, too. She wondered what he’d like to do on the beach. Perhaps he’d just watch the waves hit the rocks, but that was fine in and of itself - because at night, you could see the stars the sailors navigated with. Y/N knew almost all of them.

This is what she said to Lyanna and Benjen, who listened with rapt attention. As she thought, Lyanna loved the idea of sandcastles, but she wanted to feel the waves crash against her legs, too. Benjen wanted to see a ‘tide pool’, and the little crabs that sat inside them - Y/N couldn’t imagine why he wanted to catch one of the mean things. Even Brandon overheard them, and chimed in. He couldn’t hide his own curiosity as he asked questions about House Caspian’s flagship.

When she returned to Lyanna’s room, her trunk had been stowed away somewhere, and her clothes were in Lyanna’s armoire. Her books were on a small shelf, and her other few belongings were with them. I need to ask mother and father to send my paints. She cared more about that than her cloak and riding boots.

It wasn’t long after that her parents and Willam had to leave for Whitetide. As Y/N expected, Willam cried. She hugged him and promised he could visit, or maybe she’d visit, and she’d write letters, although that meant nothing to him. Sometimes he was more like baby Rickard than Benjen. Still, she was glad her little brother had so much affection for her, and she ended up crying herself as she hugged her mother and father. It pained her that she couldn’t give a proper goodbye to Uncle Cole.

All of the Starks and Y/N watched as the carriage, horses and few men-at-arms disappeared. Eventually Lord and Lady Stark returned to the castle, but the children stayed by her side. Lyanna was holding her hand, Benjen slightly leaned on her other side, and behind her was Brandon’s strong presence. He was already so much taller than any of them.

Y/N thought her tears would have dried eventually, but they kept silently falling. She got tired of rubbing at her face with her sleeves, and she was glad no one was bringing attention to it, even if it was making Lyanna sniff at rub at her own eyes.

Y/N felt Brandon’s hand on her head, and while the gesture would normally annoy her, he wasn’t trying to tease her this time. As she looked up at him, Brandon almost looked sad.

“Manta rays shouldn’t be away from the sea for so long,” He said. “So you’ll have to be a wolf for now.”

“She’s too nice and pretty to be a she-wolf,” Benjen said.

Lyanna quickly asked, “What does that make me?”

“It won’t be for long.” Brandon said. Y/N couldn’t help but notice that for once, he seemed unsure with his words. He was usually so self-assured. The lordling gently touched her hair, where the pearl was tied in. “You’ll always have that to remember.”

Y/N looked down at the iridescent pearl, and while the silver glinted prettily in the sunlight, the pearl’s beauty was something else. It was a little bigger than  her thumb. It wouldn’t be her only pearl, but it was her first, and her father did away with several before finding this one for her. It was almost a perfect sphere, almost.

Brandon seemed done with sentiment for the day. He didn’t wait for an answer as he turned away. “I’m going to practice. Lyanna, your face is going to stick like that if you keep making a stupid face.”

“Your face is already stuck with stupid, Bran!” Lyanna retorted hotly, then added, “And use your sword like a sword when you practice today, yesterday you flailed it like a reed!”

Y/N laughed as she rubbed the last of the tears from her eyes. Benjen said, “There’s some snow up on the walls, want to make snowballs?”

“Yes, and throw them!”

“At what?” Y/N asked. “Each other? Our dresses will get wet.”

“So we’ll throw them at someone not in a dress.” Lyanna looked at Brandon’s retreating figure pointedly. She pulled up her skirt to her calves, always the one who had to get a head start, even if it wasn’t a race. “Come on! I know the fastest way!”

#game of thrones x reader #ned stark x reader #game of thrones imagines #ned stark #salt & snow #libra fics

[badass-queen-of-puns]

What Disney Princess Are You? Part 4 (Reggie Fic-One Shot)

Summary: It wasn’t everyday you see Reggie Mantle bothered by one message he receives on his phone at school one day, especially about a certain girl nonetheless. Though as he tried to keep himself together of the situation, a sudden curiousness of words from the core four may have solved his problem, or was it just the company itself from these so-called misfits he needed as well to find the answer himself?

Word Count: 2162

Notes: Unfamiliar characters mentioned or presented are part of my own Riverdale au (more detail into them in the future), specifically the Reggie-verse.

Chapters: 5

Warnings: Reggie being a less than usual jerk.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

“What about you, Ponytail?”  Reggie gestures his head towards the girl with the seemingly perfect ponytail.

Betty blinks for a moment. “Me?”  Surprised by the sudden ask, she answers him, slightly making eye contact in his direction “Cinderella. I always wondered what glass shoes would feel like.”  She says, admittingly.

“Uncomfortable, I think. I’ll take designer shoes thank you very much. Comfortable yet sensible.”  Veronica admits about her own fashion sense, flipping her hair back behind her shoulder.

Crossing her arms, Toni says “I say she gives off this Rapunzel vibe. She totally looks like she could be carrying a pan with her at all times to hit someone with a vicious look in her eye.”

“Or that ponytail of hers could just knock the crap out of people every time she turned her head.”  Reggie suggests, motioning his head as if he had a head full of hair flipping in the wind. Veronica releases a hint of laughter at his actions. Toni stares at him, entertained as a speck of smile rose from her lips, though disappearing before anyone else could notice. Unbeknownst to her, Reggie does.

Archie’s lips start moving on its own, “Now that I think about it–”  

“Don’t.” Jughead abruptly interrupts him as he covers Archie’s mouth much to his surprise. “You’ll know what will happen if you say more than you’re supposed to.”

They both turn their eyes to Betty, who was already giving them, particularly Archie the stare of death. To his eyes, that meant her saying, ‘Choose Your Next Words Carefully Archibald Andrews’. Archie’s mouth instantly closes shut after hearing his words, Jughead’s palm releases from Archie’s lips as he did. Reggie rolls his eyes in response to the idiotic duo that could completely be afraid of one chick. As if he would let that happen, no girl could hold him down to act so dumb like those two were doing as he thought to himself.

“We already confirmed Archie is Ariel, no doubt. He already passed the look in the wardrobe department.”  Veronica mentions, moving her head to Jughead, who was back at typing away on his laptop.

“What do you mean?”  Reggie notices Veronica’s attention being swayed towards Jughead, who everyone else noticed as well looking right at him. Jughead feels the amount of eyes laying rest around him that it brought his head up, locking eyes with everyone around him. Before he could say something else, Reggie’s face plastered with confusion, his answer came through with the sight of something he did not think he would see.

“It’s this.” Jughead replies back without making eye contact.

Turning his laptop to show Reggie the thing that he has been wondering about this whole time, which had these guys laughing about before his presence was made clear. His eyes widen as he sees the laptop screen pop up with a really well layered as Reggie would unwilling want to admit, photoshopped version of Archie in the body of Ariel from the popular Disney movie, The Little Mermaid in her mermaid form, or should he say HIS mermaid form. Complete with tail and seashell bra included. He had to blink twice to realize what he was looking at; the first time to know what he was looking straight at was right, and the second time to know that he did. With his mouth slightly agape at a sight, it was definitely a sight he would not be able to get out of his mind easily, but it happen to be a surprisingly a good look for Andrews, chuckling at the thought.

“Total mermaid, ain’t he? Only Andrews could pull off a look like that. That clam bra does it justice, I’d say.” Reggie responds at the image in front of him, Reggie tried to remembered where he saw that scene from, realizing a few moments later that it was the position of the scene where Ariel ended her song of ‘Part of Your World’, looking over to Prince Eric who was washed on the shore after she saved him.

He starts laughing at the realization as one thought did not cross his mind. That particular thought was not noticing how loose he was letting himself be around these guys that he could vaguely refer to as his classmates, let alone friends and yet it wasn’t that often he would completely let his guard down in front of others. Only a particular few could do that.

As he continues laughing, Jughead gives off a smirk at the sudden appreciation from the guy who would usually be the one start something that didn’t need to begin. Smiles erupted from around the room for a moment as the conversation continued with the next predetermined role of animation.

“I think V would be more of Snow White. But then again, she could easily be Jasmine.”  Betty suggests, tapping her finger on her cheek in thought as she gives Veronica a grin across the room.

“Aww, thanks B.” Veronica winks back at her; her eyes lighting up with a thought. “Ooo I’d love to have a tiger to guard me. Plus, it would be interesting to see Archie-kins ride a flying carpet.”  Her chin resting on Archie’s shoulder, Archie grins back at her touch.

“Andrews is more like the Abu if you ask me. All this talking, but nobody knows what he’s talking about.”  Reggie remarks, reaching for a piece of pizza when no one is paying attention. Having to dig through the first couple of empty boxes that the gang, mostly Jughead, devoured in a flash.

Archie just laughs at his comment, even Jughead huffing a response of amusement as his words. Toni shakes her head a bit at his words, but responsive enough to show smile herself at his words. 

“Why haven’t we said anything about Jughead yet?”  Veronica realizes as she looks back to him, then to someone else “And you too Toni?”

“Belle. I’m Belle. You can’t deny the similarities.”  Jughead answers as quickly as his hands were moving on the keyboard of his laptop.

“Of course, he would be the bookworm.”  Reggie chuckles.

“Makes sense.” Toni agreed with him, for once. “I personally would be more of a Pocahontas type of gal, got my tribe to back me up like my Serpent family, but still following my own roots, and got my own Grandmother Willow to give me some badass advice.”

“I can see that.” Reggie responds, checking her out as if he was imagining what she would like in that particular princess’s attire. Toni rolls eyes again in response, unfazed but use to his gaze already.

“All this talk about everyone being someone, and you all haven’t gotten to the best one.”  Reggie’s fingers point to one direction. “Me.”

“Okay Reggie, since you’re so willing to announce your royal status.” Veronica says to him. 

“Oh let me guess, how about sleeping beauty? Cause you seem to be good at that.” Toni claims, a hint of a smirk appearing on her face.

Betty nudges her neck back as she asks, “Which one? The sleeping or the beauty part?”  

“How about both?  He acts like a beauty even though he sleeps a lot.”  Veronica suggest, but then corrects herself “I mean around.”  Reggie gives off a smirk at her definition of his version of ‘sleeping beauty’, but he did not take it to heart or anything below that underneath tight clothing he wore that he called an outfit.

“Thanks for the compliment, but that chick is for virgins. Too innocent for my taste. Nah I’d be Mulan.”  Reggie answers, using his thumb to point himself, confidently.

“Why because you’re Asian?” Jughead’s mouth rose peculiarly at what his answer would be.

“No and yes. Not because she’s a representation of asian culture and independence or that I would definitely could pull of those outfits she wears, but she makes me think of how much I can kick ass without being judged by gender. Plus, I wouldn’t mind having a dragon as my sidekick compared to other miniature creatures that other princesses have. Plus, that cricket isn’t too bad either.”

“Isn’t he a lizard?”  A voice comes out from behind the ever-growing band of Riverdale’s most known students. Curiously, they all turn their heads to see two tall, laidback guys with smiles that expressed a self-satisfaction in what they were just hearing. Sweet Pea and Fangs. They were wearing their infamous Southside Serpent jackets, which were usually banned from wearing on school grounds, but Jughead was able to make a committing argument for them to be able to at least be worn after school. Both of them were each leaned against the rims of the door that showed their relaxed yet intrigued stature of the audience that was looking in their direction.

“No, he’s a dragon. Didn’t you see him blow fire in the movie? Mushu is a beast. Next to her Grandma.”  Reggie continues saying as he eyes turned to focus on them. He paused as he realized who he was replying back to all of a sudden. He gives a silent nod to the two, acknowledging their presence in front of him. Even with his lack of interaction he would occassionally get from the core four, he usually tried to keep his distance from the Serpents, though lately he has been slowly been having a mutual presence around Sweet Pea as well as Fangs who he has been at times becoming a team player and constant competitor with those two whenever it came to playing sports during PE practice. He watches as those two made their way closer to the group that were discussing more than just mere guessing games.

“How many disney princess are there again?”  Archie wonders, cocking his head to the side, looking at Veronica as he asks. Though he didn’t have to wait long for an answer to his question as it became clear in an instant as he tossed a few pieces of skittles into his mouth that he reached for from the messy food-plastered table. A unexpected voice spoke.

“Eleven, officially. Not counting Moana who is about to join soon or Anna or Elsa since I guess they don’t count them in the line-up. Since you know Elsa was actually crowned queen in the movie and Anna…well I don’t know bout that. Popularity issues I guess.”  Reggie’s words coming off as a deer in the headlights to everyone around him as he chews some more of his pizza off from his lips that seemed to be craving the moment he saw Toni appearing with them. He positions himself comfortably on the arm rest of the couch that Archie and Veronica were sitting at the whole time. Unaware of his informational words of the princess lineage, he stares back at everyone confused.

“Wow, Reg. I didn’t take you for a disney fanatic.”  Archie voices with surprise.

“I’m not..I just know stuff…You know television.”  Reggie mutters, shrugging his shoulders, trying to diminish the insinuation of his sudden spoken knowledge of famed childhood films.

“Right…. And you just happen to have the whole Disney Channel on your tv?”  Veronica raises her eyebrow, curiously.

“Now that I think about it. You’re like a walking Disney encyclopedia. You sure been giving hints of that so-called genius you’re always bragging about. This is probably it. Am I right?” Jughead compliments surprisingly in his own way, a smile peering from his lips. “Maybe I should mention to Mr. Weatherbee to issue a Disney Day in the school paper that way we can vote you to be in charge since you know so much.”

“I would love to see that. I’ll gladly vote for once. I’ll even nominate him.” Sweet Pea declares, standing up for a moment as he raises his arm in declaration to those words.

“Me too. I don’t mind dressing up. Beats wearing those school uniforms every day.”  Fangs comments as he went along with what Sweet Pea was saying, interested in their possible event as him and Sweet Pea high-five each other grinning like elementary school kids at recess.

“Don’t you dare.”  Reggie responds back yet his voice sounding laid-back than he would expect it to be. He knew that those two were messing around at the notion of his preview of unhidden disney knowledge that he could not admit he got from a certain someone. A little someone.  

Though that secret would stay just that…deep down in an area of himself like a jack-in-the-box that he would be labeled as ‘Mantle Mysteries’ only spinning to be released, but never to be opened. Unless someone were lucky enough to figure out the trick to doing just that, but that will be the day he thought to himself.

Suddenly without notice, he feels a vibration near his stomach. The one thing that he was keeping his mind off popped back up without warning and he reaches for the device inside his jacket pocket that gave him more anxiety than a championship game in the fall. Tapping his phone that he held out in his hand, the screen appeared with bold, clear words yet again.

She’s here. You better have fixed IT.

PART 4 finally complete only one more to go! To all who are reading it, thank you so much. I’m glad to finally be finishing up soon and all your questions that you may have about this mysterious ‘she’ will soon be revealed. stay tuned! 

#reggie mantle #riverdale #reggie mantle imagine #reggie mantle fic #reggie imagine #riverdale imagine #riverdale imagines #betty cooper #sweet pea #fangs fogarty #southside serpents #veronica lodge #jughead jones #disney #disney princess #varchie #bughead #barchie #jeronica #toni topaz #badass-queen-of-puns

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World Of Warships Bot

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When the sort of Chinooks, Sides and Hueys are not hectic shuttling many men and equipment to hilltop Khe-Sanhs, they’ll be chauffeuring infuriating anti--air and mortar teams to |The £13 15-experience Order: North Inferno (also supplied thru Water vapor) can be obtained as “Norway remains invaded.” “Iceland remains substantially bombarded and after that grabbed by Soviet forces.” “The Soviet Navy is delivering its Sverdlov intense cruisers lesser the Denmark Strait” “The Ark Royal carrier collection and it is Buccaneer lessened-level affect aircraft will affect during the centre of Soviet Naval Aviation.” “Multiple body cells of SAC B-52 bombers, pre-loaded with nuclear weaponry, are reaching out to their “point of no return” regions inside of the Arctic Group of friends.” “RAF bases are struck with nuclear weaponry.” most people quotations might be made. 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Many individuals are in search of new and exciting hobbies every day, unfortunately have exhaust ideas. If this is after this you the following report is correct your alley. In it you can expect to go through many superb advice as to what interests are excellent to focus on in your house. Read on and get enlightened about pastimes!

A very nice activity to obtain is to collect songs documents. A lot of people that are DJ s or are interested in tunes like to head out to history shops and browse by way of all the various data they have got. It s entertaining due to the fact one never knows what you ll discover. You might find anything awesomely obscure.

Studying is really a fun hobby that anyone can occupy. It is an low-cost activity way too, since you can go to your nearby local library and use books for free. You can also purchase textbooks at great deals at lawn income and book swaps. An entertaining strategy to reveal your passion for books is to join or start a guide club.

If you love focusing on pcs, you may want to get the next step and transform personal computer programming in a hobby. This is among one of individuals interests that will pay back (virtually) in the end. The better you teach on your own, the greater number of sellable abilities you ll when searching for work. Plus encoding can be a lot of fun as well.

Make sure to make your create scissors nice and clean. Wash the cutting blades with alcohol every single day to avoid lint and sticky accumulating to them and making them uninteresting. To completely clean scissors well, utilize detergent and warm water, and make sure they are fully dehydrated ahead of holding them. When you have definitely tacky scissors, then nail shine removal could be used to purchase them truly clear.

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Many individuals are in search of new and exciting hobbies every day, unfortunately have exhaust ideas. If this is after this you the following report is correct your alley. In it you can expect to go through many superb advice as to what interests are excellent to focus on in your house. Read on and get enlightened about pastimes!

A very nice activity to obtain is to collect songs documents. A lot of people that are DJ s or are interested in tunes like to head out to history shops and browse by way of all the various data they have got. It s entertaining due to the fact one never knows what you ll discover. You might find anything awesomely obscure.

Studying is really a fun hobby that anyone can occupy. It is an low-cost activity way too, since you can go to your nearby local library and use books for free. You can also purchase textbooks at great deals at lawn income and book swaps. An entertaining strategy to reveal your passion for books is to join or start a guide club.

If you love focusing on pcs, you may want to get the next step and transform personal computer programming in a hobby. This is among one of individuals interests that will pay back (virtually) in the end. The better you teach on your own, the greater number of sellable abilities you ll when searching for work. Plus encoding can be a lot of fun as well.

Make sure to make your create scissors nice and clean. Wash the cutting blades with alcohol every single day to avoid lint and sticky accumulating to them and making them uninteresting. To completely clean scissors well, utilize detergent and warm water, and make sure they are fully dehydrated ahead of holding them. When you have definitely tacky scissors, then nail shine removal could be used to purchase them truly clear.

Skating is a exciting recreational action, which is additionally a wonderful interest. By way of skating, it is possible to find the oceans, jump in to a lake or just wade from the pool area within your backyard. Doing this will help to to help you fit, and it will surely also show you some new individuals who reveal your passion for the water.

Before deciding over a hobby that suits you, consider a little venture initially. If you feel you could appreciate quilting, start with a desk runner or little cushion to find out if quilting fits your needs. If artwork is popular with you, give it a try on a tiny canvass.

Seashell getting is a superb activity that can give you fond memories of sea side vacation trips. Seashells could be instructional for the kids and in addition are actually excellent decorative features for your property.

In the report above you are now aware of countless fun things to do in the home. Anyone can locate intriguing pastimes in your own home how the family members can enjoy carrying out. It doesn t need to be dull in the home any longer if you are the tips right here to locate that perfect activity.

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Plus Auf Masse Das Knallt Klasse Shirt, Hoodie, V-Neck, Sweater, Longsleeve, Tank Top, Bella Flowy and Unisex, T-Shirt

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Store cool graphic tees selected by a community of creative and unique designers Plus Auf Masse Das Knallt Klasse Shirt. Together with the technology smart inhabitants these days it really is no wonder that you will find and purchase practically any item on the internet by virtually any approach. You can buy issues traditionally using a check or bank card, you are able to invest in goods auction-style, you can set up fulfill-ups or purchase through software. With all the available options to online purchasers, you want a 1-quit source for helpful tips. You’ve found that resource here.Prevent buying on sites that aren’t acquainted or have zero on-line customer testimonials. Regardless how much you should purchase their items or how very low their pricing is, you just don’t know what you’re entering into. Save your internet shopping dollars to the popular and reliable websites that keep the info secure.An effective internet shopping idea to keep in mind is to depart opinions after acquiring from the supply you’ve never purchased from prior to. This will aid the two of you simply because you’ll recall whether or not you’ve experienced a excellent experience from their website, and they can also gain a standing as being a vendor.When shopping on-line, ensure that the web shop delivers secure check out. This will help protect your own personal information from being thieved. To be sure the site is encoded lookup to your website browser’s URL pack. The website is guaranteed if the web site commences with https. This represents hyper transfer process secure.Ensure you devote lots of time to check out several online stores in order to do product or service comparisons. Its smart to assessment go shopping diverse products and brands except if you are identified to get a certain one particular. Select a merchandise together with the finest features and value. If you view your recommended online shops regularly, you can expect to by no means miss present sales.That you can now see, there are lots of types of creating transactions on the web and a multitude of locations by which to get. There are loads of web sites looking to bait online consumers to invest money. After looking at this post you need to fully grasp more about how online shopping functions and how to get what you want, through the signifies you would like, when you wish. A T shirts Store Online – Plus Auf Masse Das Knallt Klasse Shirt Product. A Trend at TrendTshirtNew, we’re about more than t-shirts!

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