#considerthehurricanes

[whatthehellbells]

considerthehurricanes reblogou sua foto “Going out and feeling cute.”

I love you a lot too bae

[teamfreeawesome]

Sid/Geno accidental dating?

Sid watches Geno, sometimes, when the air is still misted over, soft tendrils of it curling around Geno’s face. He watches as Geno grins, the ends of his hair still wet – and Sid aches with something undefinable when their eyes meet. Eyes crinkling, mouth curving wider and deeper, Geno waves – and Sid’s stomach contracts.

The ice is clean and ready, stretching and stretching behind the glass, and Sid’s bones whine for the feel of it beneath his feet. He imagines it wilder, a rougher mile and his fingers ache for Geno. He wants to take Geno’s hand and skate forever; skate into the trees and the mountains with their fingers tangled and the sun at their backs.

Geno’s the best friend Sid has ever had.

 //

 Sid likes Geno. He likes spending time with him, laughter dripping free from his mouth as Geno pushes his big hand into Sid’s face, cart careening across the TV screen. There’s something about Geno; all arms and legs and stretchy muscle that pulls taught and long. Something about the way his mouth softens around Jeffery and the soft way his fingers card through Jeffery’s fur. Sid aches, sometimes, watching the way Geno can be gentle.

He’s irritating, too, though. Geno’s the kind of stubborn that Sid can understand intimately, but it doesn’t make it any less annoying. Geno says the same thing, and it’s true that Sid’s veins thrum equally as strong. Sport encourages determined players, and sometimes stubborn and determined are interchangeable.

Geno gets stubborn about spending time with Sid, sometimes. He insists, mouth stretched wide, that they haven’t seen each other enough at the rink. Smiling, he tugs at Sid’s hand and drags him out to dinner.

“You work too hard,” he says, rubbing a thumb across Sid’s bare palm. “All work and no play make Sid dull captain.”

“I’m not dull,” Sid tries, but he thinks that maybe he is.

 //

 Sid is twenty-seven and lonely. Sometimes his mom calls, voice soft over the phone, to ask how he’s doing. Sid doesn’t know how to explain that his skin feels too tight, pinched and aching, when he wakes to a cold bed and remembered dreams.

“I’m okay,” he says, but his voice catches. “I saw Geno today.”

She hums quietly, reassuring and warm over the line.

“What did you two do, then?” She asks, and Sid can hear her settling into the patterned armchair that sits by the phone.

Perching on the edge of his couch, his toes scrunching into the carpet, he rubs a finger along the seam of his sweatpants. They’re fraying near the knee, and he picks at a thread, mouth trembling at the corners.

“We went for dinner and Geno suggested a movie,” he says, and it sounds almost normal. “It was nice.”

 //

 Days with practice are better. Sometimes it feels like Geno is just an extension of Sid, a long arm and a smile contained within Sid’s chest; a part of who Sid is and how he plays. He passes and Geno slips the puck past Flower. With the wind rushing in his ears and the sound of Geno’s laughter, it feels like Sid did too.

“Good assist, Sid,” Geno tells him, grinning – and Sid trembles, swaying into his space.

“Yeah,” he says, and he shivers at the warm puff of Geno’s breath against his skin.

 //

 Noisy locker rooms are better for catching people. Flower’s hand at the base of Sid’s neck is no surprise at all. Guiding Sid closer and pulling him tight against his side, Flower smiles.

“You and Geno are cute,” he says, eyes glinting in the fluorescent light. “Why didn’t you say you were dating?”

Mouth gaping, knees sagging, Sid’s face crumples. His hands tremble, pressing tight to his lips, and Flower’s chest heaves. Brushing a palm across Sid’s shoulder, he looks like he doesn’t have the words to even touch this.

 //

 Sid lets his head rest between Geno’s shoulder blades, mouth pressed tight against the thin material of Geno’s shirt. He breathes in, the floral smell of Geno’s detergent stinging his nose as he winds his arms around Geno’s waist from behind.

“Flower thinks we’re dating,” he whispers.

Geno sighs, shoulders moving as he breathes out. Turning, he catches Sid’s face in his big hands, thumb rubbing gently across Sid’s cheek.

“I’m date you, Sid. We date for months. Accidentally, but lately also on purpose because I’m like you.”

His palms are warm against Sid’s cheeks – and there’s only sincerity in his gaze, sitting heavy and deep under Geno’s skin. Sid thinks that he could trace the affection back to the source like this; hands warm, his fingers would track the warm glow under the epidermis until he was pressed tight to Geno’s heart.

“Oh,” Sid whispers, eyes wide with wonder. “I know now,” he says as his hands slide, gentle, under Geno’s shirt and come to rest at the small of his back.

Their breath mingles as Sid hangs there, stretched wide with delight. Leaning in, mouth brushing Geno’s, Sid hums.

“I know now,” he murmurs, and closes the gap.

[astarfilledsea]

considerthehurricanes replied to your photoset “~my holiday sweater that’s not really a holiday sweater but i call it...”

Awww. So cute! You're adorable in you holiday not holiday sweater. <3

thanks dear!!!! <3

[katmcnamara]

The arrow for the meme thing. I'm on my phone. I can't do those swanky ass icon thingamabobs.

there were two arrows so i did both!!!

↕ - How many blogs do you follow? 706 oops

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send me a symbol and find out more about my blog!!!

[katmcnamara]

it's tsegs' shoes. his shoes are v important, right? that's why we like that photo set. it's only bc the shoes *is shifty*

oh yes that's a very nice set of....shoes..

[cathedralhearts]

i haven't been on my laptop for a few days and for some reason, when i checked my tracked tags on my phone app, this didn't show up??? BUT DEAR LORD THE ART SCHOOL SOUL BOND AU IS PERFECT AND I LOVE IT AND THANK YOU SO VERY, VERY MUCH! I'm actually a HUGE fan of soul bond fic so that just made the whole thing even better. This was absolutely awesome. Thank you so much for taking my prompt and writing something for it. It's just. Thank you. THANK YOU. <3 I LOVE IT!

I'm so glad you liked it! Nothing worse than writing fic for someone who hates it D:

[astarfilledsea]

KRISTI. KRISTI!!!! Kristi why would you send me a snap of a GoT AU about Jonny and Patrick!!? Yes!!! Crow!Jonny and Wildling!Patrick!!! All the dreaming yes!! YASSSSSS. who can we get to write this bc damn son. It needs to be. Ps, you're voice is super cute and I love the accent.

So let’s just say the Toews’s are loyal to House Stark. (author’s note: i’m gonna bend the rules here and it’s going to be a rough idea because i’m rusty on my GoT knowledge) Their family are blacksmiths and while David helps his mother around their house, Jonny is helping his dad making swords, shields, upon other weapons. And in the meantime, when he isn’t helping his dad, he practices his swordfighting with his buddies. Something happens to the small town where he lives, their town gets raided. The men take Jonny’s mom and brother and he tries to save them but he’s too late. 

He tries going out and looking for them but he fails to see any trace. He grows up taking on his father’s job, trying to keep both him and his father afloat but the money is scarce now, now that there’s a new king raising the taxes on food. Jonny gets caught stealing food or maybe he gets into a dispute with a Lord who keeps demanding a certain type of weapon and Jonny can’t get that metal, its expensive and rare, they arrest him and he’s taken to Kings Landing. Anyway, something’s gotta happen that makes it even more dire that he has the choice to either death or go to the Night’s Watch. 

Jonny doesn’t want to die, so he chooses the Night’s Watch. 

He becomes a man of the Watch and he does fairly well, like Jon Snow. He’s earns his place and starts being respected amongst the other men. He knows how to work a blade and he’s got that leadership aura about him too, etc, etc. You catch my drift.

He’s at one of the towers at the edge of the wall one night, when someone behind him taps his shoulder and Jonny spins around to see who it is, his bow ready and freezes.

It’s a man, covered head to toe in furs and cloth, with his eyes the only thing Jonny sees. Jonny’s taken aback by how blue the man’s eyes are, they remind him of the color of the water he once saw on a fishing trip his father had taken him a long time ago. 

Jonny knows what’s in front of him. He’s heard stories from the others but he never thought he’d come across one. The man in front of him in a crouching position should be dead, but Jonny can’t move. All he can do is stare into the Wildling’s eyes. 

"Ya gonna shoot?" is what the man says before taking off the way he came. 

"Wait!" Jonny yells, but he’s too late because the man with the blue eyes is already gone. 

Jonny meets the Wildling again another night and the man’s head is uncovered. He has curly hair and the Wildling has to keep pushing it back to keep it from falling in his face. 

"Who are you?" Jonny asks, but the Wildling doesn’t answer. "Are you hungry?" is the next question Jonny asks and he knows he shouldn’t be talking to a wildling, he shouldn’t be alive, but Jonny wants to know more. Where did he come from? Is he in trouble? Does he have family? Jonny wants to know more, so he asks more questions hoping the wildling will answer one.

"Got any more questions Crow?" is what the Wildling responds with and Jonny doesn’t know what to say. The Wildling leaves again and Jonny thinks that he’s never going to see him again.

"You’re odd for a Crow." A voice says from behind Jonny as he’s taking watch. Jonny turns and looks from his chair and sees the Wildling leaning against Jonny’s chair. "What, no questions this time Crow?"

"Yes, I mean, No I have questions." Jonny stammers. He sees the wildling sit down and set a bow and arrows on the floor. 

"Aren’t you scared?" Jonny asks.

"I’ve come here two times and each time I’ve left alive." the Wildling says.

"I’m Jon." Jonny says.

"They call me Patrick."

Jonny learns that Patrick’s been Wildling his entire life, he has three sisters that are the only ones that have survived in their family. Jonny learns that Patrick is a master with his bow and arrows, hitting a target Jonny gives him, a side of a tower so many feet away. Jonny learns of the reason Patrick is atop the wall, one of his sister’s is seriously ill and none of the remedies they’ve tried have worked. Patrick heard of a tale of this one plant that could help, but its a longshot and his sister might not be alive when he gets back if he finds it.  But Patrick will take the risk. He scales this tower watching and looking for patterns of who takes watch before he can make the descent and save his sister.

They part early in the morning, and Jonny thinks the stories he’s heard are all tales told down from generation to generation. Patrick isn’t all what he’s come to know of the Wildlings. Jonny wants to help him, but he knows that if any of them are caught, they will both die.

But the risk Patrick is taking, Jonny knows that's incredibly brave of him. And after he's slept, he starts thinking in his head the how he's going to get Patrick across the wall without anyone knowing.

They keep meeting up at the Tower during Jonny's watch and he's the only one there on watch, no one suspects a thing. Jonny learns more about Wildling life and he gets to tell Patrick what life was like in his little town. Little by little Jonny starts falling in love with Patrick. 

[cathedralhearts]

s/g soulbondy art school student mush

Happy (belated) birthday considerthehurricanes! Hope you had a fabulous day and enjoy my silly little snippet for you. Apparently I'm in a soul bond mood today, sorry!

--

Zhenya’s slumped over his easel, fast asleep, when Sidney starts tugging on the edges of his mind, trying as nicely as he can to wake Zhenya up.

Go away, Zhenya thinks at him. Sidney pouts. It’d be amusing, nay endearing, any other day. Not today. He is so tired, and his fingers hurt from all the painting he’s been forced to do during finals -- who the fuck decided art students needed exams, for god’s sake? Painting under this pressure is no good for his muse.

  I thought I was your muse, Sidney says. Zhenya groans and tries to push Sidney out the bond, back into his own head, but Sidney refuses to budge. I’m bored, Zhenya, keep me company.

  You have an exam in two hours, Sid, go study for it.

  I already did. You didn’t come back to the room, and I got bored and woke up. Sidney says this as if it’s normal to be bored while you sleep or something. Zhenya’s exhausted just by thinking about Sidney and his life.

Zhenya, Sidney sighs. Zhenya’s eyes flutter open and he yawns, feeling so miserable it’s pathetic. He leans up off his easel and realises his favourite white v-neck is ruined from the charcoal that’s now smeared all down his front and against his cheek

  Fuck, he thinks as Sidney bursts into laughter, tinkling like golden fireworks all across Zhenya’s conscious, zinging down his spine.

  Fuck off, Zhenya says but he doesn’t mean it, and Sidney doesn’t leave. He just stays in bed and chatters with Zhenya about his sculptures, and how much he fucking hates clay and would rather work with ice or wood.

  Wood is unreliable, Zhenya starts, but Sidney butts at him and Zhenya falls silent as he cleans up, rubbing at the charcoal on his face with rags from his pile and packing up the last of his gear. Professor Ivanov lets him come to paint all the time, gave him his own key in second year, but he still feels bad sometimes about taking advantage.

  It’s hardly taking advantage if Ivanov lets you, Sidney snorts as Zhenya leaves the building, buttoning up his coat and slinging his satchel over his shoulders. Bring me Timmys. I’m cold and bored and lonely and hungry.

  So many feelings, I’m surprised you haven’t exploded, Zhenya says dryly but detours and picks up Sidney the biggest latte they make, adding copious squirts of caramel and creamer and getting a box of Timbits for them to share. Sidney’s cheering like the obnoxious little shit he is, and by the time Zhenya gets back to their room, Sidney’s chanting Tim-bits, Tim-bits! It’s giving him a headache.

  “Shut up,” Zhenya says as he walks inside their room and kicks the door closed. He toes off his shoes and dumps the box on Sidney’s bed, putting their drinks down with slightly more grace before he pulls off his jacket and beanie, his shirt following shortly after to the dirty pile at the foot of his bed. He shucks off his jeans and climbs into Sidney’s bed, burrowing his head under the pillow while Sidney hums and sips his drink, popping strawberry and lemon-flavoured Timbits in his mouth as he flicks through the television.

  Zhenya falls asleep to Sidney’s contentedness wrapping around him like the blankets around his body. Later, he’ll have to wake up and finish his portfolio for the year, his last piece giving him issues. It’s a watercolour he’s been working on, and for some reason he can’t seem to find the right shade of blue to capture the ocean. No matter.

  He breathes in; Sidney smells like sleep and coffee, and like clay.

  “I thought you were sleeping,” Sidney says, landing on a repeat of the Canadiens game and picking up a Timbit to hold by Geno’s mouth. He just opens up and lets Sidney pop it inside as he giggles.

  “Can’t sleep, you too loud,” he says. Sidney sighs and burrows down in bed with him, letting Geno drape an arm around his midsection.

  Better? He mutters across the bond. Geno hums, content.