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this is a side blog for the things i want to save.


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nikitaduncan:

for the anon who requested modern day Theon/Jeyne

He’s seen her before. She’s a sad girl, long of face and dull eyes that stare meekly at everything else around her. But when she dances, she comes alive. She lives in the apartment across from him, a run down place just like his, grey building with cracked walls that look days away from falling apart. Her place has a balcony though, a small one, but big enough that she can stand and do her stretches on it.
Theon looks at her now, standing in front of him in the dimly lit club. He doesn’t even know her name; he’s never talked to her, only watched her in the morning go through her moves as he holds ice to his bruised knuckles from doing Bolton’s work from the night before. He likes to watch her.
She doesn’t look like a graceful swan now. There’s too much makeup on her face, and the backless dress looks uncomfortable on her. Ramsay’s newest hostess, and her hands tremble.
Theon fingers the set of instructions in his suit pocket. A name’s stamped inside in black ink, death sentence ready to be given out. “You like to dance,” he doesn’t say it as a question.
She looks up, and her eyes are a pretty color, wide like a startled animal. “Yes,” she says, and maybe she says it because she recognizes him as one of her boss’s men, or maybe because she just wants to.
He leans against the stand. “You live in the building across from mine. I’ve seen you before,” pause. “You look nice.”
A flush spills over her cheeks and down her neck. “Thank you,” she says, voice quiet.
Other workers are moving about the rest of the club, getting things in order for tonight. There’s music playing; the bass is too loud.
"What’s your name?" Theon asks.
Names are important here, they keep you sane, keep you alive.
"Jeyne."
It’s a good one. He tells her so.
Jeyne smiles, and she’s the girl from across the street again.

nikitaduncan:

for the anon who requested modern day Theon/Jeyne

He’s seen her before. She’s a sad girl, long of face and dull eyes that stare meekly at everything else around her. But when she dances, she comes alive. She lives in the apartment across from him, a run down place just like his, grey building with cracked walls that look days away from falling apart. Her place has a balcony though, a small one, but big enough that she can stand and do her stretches on it.

Theon looks at her now, standing in front of him in the dimly lit club. He doesn’t even know her name; he’s never talked to her, only watched her in the morning go through her moves as he holds ice to his bruised knuckles from doing Bolton’s work from the night before. He likes to watch her.

She doesn’t look like a graceful swan now. There’s too much makeup on her face, and the backless dress looks uncomfortable on her. Ramsay’s newest hostess, and her hands tremble.

Theon fingers the set of instructions in his suit pocket. A name’s stamped inside in black ink, death sentence ready to be given out. “You like to dance,” he doesn’t say it as a question.

She looks up, and her eyes are a pretty color, wide like a startled animal. “Yes,” she says, and maybe she says it because she recognizes him as one of her boss’s men, or maybe because she just wants to.

He leans against the stand. “You live in the building across from mine. I’ve seen you before,” pause. “You look nice.”

A flush spills over her cheeks and down her neck. “Thank you,” she says, voice quiet.

Other workers are moving about the rest of the club, getting things in order for tonight. There’s music playing; the bass is too loud.

"What’s your name?" Theon asks.

Names are important here, they keep you sane, keep you alive.

"Jeyne."

It’s a good one. He tells her so.

Jeyne smiles, and she’s the girl from across the street again.

23 hours ago | J | 69 notes

frankenbolt:

ihearttheodorelaurence:

Zoe Saldana: Sci-Fi Queen!

But Also:

1 day ago | J | 147,227 notes

hotelsongs:

They’re the Baratheons of the town called Baratheon, coal-headed as the town mines, their potential bright as diamonds. They can call it back to life, or it’ll die and leave them empty down to the marrow, shaking out the pockets of their souls.

Or that’s the thought. That’s the myth of the town, made for obligation.

R. 10K. For Maddi, because of reasons. Messianism and legacy and the beginning of what’ll someday be a tall tale in the chronicle of Baratheon, WV. It starts with three brothers this time.

2 days ago | J | 46 notes

bonnsexuality:

punkrockremus:

sirius and james being facebook married

 (via)

3 weeks ago | J | 22,406 notes

faeriedroid:

reblog for healthy polyamory ignore for unnecessary heterosexual love triangles

3 weeks ago | J | 67,226 notes

batcii:

smoo told me to draw zutara week stuff so instead i drew some modern au gaang. sorry for my shitty handwriting.

3 weeks ago | J | 167,260 notes

dameferre:

orestesblasting-pyladesfunk:

i realise this AU has been done to death but all i care about is courferre soulmate tattoos

3 weeks ago | J | 1,014 notes
3 weeks ago | J | 258,933 notes
4 weeks ago | J | 79,211 notes

therailsplitter:

When Yancy and Raleigh were little their mom would read them Le Petit Prince as a bed time story. 

Herc read Chuck Go The Fuck To Sleep

4 weeks ago | J | 143 notes
1 month ago | J | 1,660 notes

But even if the stars and moon collide, I never want you back into my life. You can take your words, And all your lies… Oh, oh, oh I really don’t care!

1 month ago | J | 667 notes

princelypaws:

#pacific rim animated series

image

1 month ago | J | 7,437 notes

zayn / taylor / dylan / perrie / jade / jesy / demi / selena / miley / holland / crystal / emma / kristen / amanda / lily.

zayn / taylor / dylan / perrie / jade / jesy / demi / selena / miley / holland / crystal / emma / kristen / amanda / lily.

1 month ago | J | 2,532 notes

lusilly:

gobigorgoextinct:

Jaeger with a sticker on its rear that says ‘Jesus is my co-pilot’

#Headcanon: its Matador Fury from Mexico #piloted by Jesus and Carlos 

1 month ago | J | 17,099 notes