sometimes i blog about french musketeers, and sometimes i cry over idiot dwarf kings. sometimes i even write.
mostly, though, i like to stare at tom burke's face and pretend i don't have a problem
i wish my brother was a nice idiot mostly mine just steps on my toes a lot
lol idk what’s funnier, you talking about an antagonistic same-agish brother, or you talking about a toddler or something hahahaha
that was great, you are an amazing explainer.
I TRIED MY BEST, SO THANK YOU FOR BEING SO NICE ABOUT IT :D
Soooo, I’ve been gone for a ridiculously long time, but here is proof that AF3 isn’t abandoned? Don’t hate me <3333 Also, sorry, but this part is kind of boring :O It takes place right after chapter 2, and it’s from Derek’s POV.
“So, you decide on the central air and heat?” Alcide asks, his back to Derek as he looks over the blueprints. They’re both shirtless and sweaty, having spent the day churning cement for the storage unit in the back, but Derek feels better than he has in weeks. Exercise always helps, he thinks ruefully.
“I’m really sorry for interrupting your lunch,” Jon says, still so apologetically sincere despite it being the fifth time today he’s told her that.
“And I’m still really ok with it, Jon.” She smiles at him, though, a brief flash of crooked teeth to let him know that she’s not irritated by him in the least.
After all, despite following her around for the last couple of hours, Jon has been more than useful. He’s helping her organize files at the moment, and Brienne can’t help but notice that he’s better than most secretaries.
So I lied, because I forgot I had to add this small scene at the end. NEXT PART = ALL THE DRAMA :D (i feel like Im ramping you all up for something huge, and now i HAVE to deliver haha)
“How can detention be fun?” Jaime asks, nose scrunched up in utter confusion.
Stiles shrugs. They’re in the back of the library, hidden behind stacks of books with their feet on the table in front of them, sitting side by side on small wooden chairs. Stiles hasn’t stopped smiling since he showed up- he can still feel the way Jaime had squeezed him tight, his brown hair tickling Stiles’ cheeks as he burrowed his head Stiles’ neck, his expression so open and honest as he welcomed Stiles.
Stiles has never been looked at like that before, like he’s hung the moon or some crazy thing like that, and he can’t. Stop. Smiling.