#giulialuna90

[awhiskeyriver]

Hi, I don't know if it's already been asked, but I'd like to know what Peeta was thinking when Katniss tried to talk to him, looking for him after he discovered the bet😁 thanks 😘

Ohhh man that's going to be a brutal scene to write :'( poor Peeta. The sting will be felt all over again, lol.

[chuckaf]

Hi, have you ever noticed that Sarah's dream house (with the red door) is basically her mother's house? Minus the white fence. I don't know if you have already posted this in your usual (amazing) gifs or said something in the tags (the reason I started following you), but I wanted to ask you from some time now, but I didn't want to seem rude😅 ps I adore your blog, it's the best for something Chuck realated😍

ooh, house deep dive!! and y’know what, you’re totally right, and there’s even a fence! and the red door!

i’d never noticed just how similar they are! i suppose in some ways it is just a generic suburban house too, but considering this is the ep where chuck and sarah are in their dream home a bunch, i have to think the similarity is deliberate. they’re in their red door, picket fence house, while sarah’s mom is in the exact same thing.

and if imma get really existential like i do in my tags lol, i think it’s kinda huge that sarah’s dream home is a: like her mom’s, and b: like her mom’s without sarah. like, we don’t know if this is sarah’s childhood home too, but considering what we know about her upbringing, her parents’ divorce and her being stuck in the middle, i kinda doubt it? i’d move, anyway, lmao. we know sarah chose her dad (and lbr what kid wouldn’t choose the fun parent who takes you on trips and gives you ice cream, over the parent who probably like. makes you go to school), so that her dream home is this little suburban place that baby sarah could only dream about while on the road with her dad-- but a house that her mother is in while raising another child that isn’t sarah, the child who gets to go to prom and all the things sarah couldn’t... that’s some symbolism there huh. i don’t know that it’s so much that sarah saw her mom’s house and wanted it, but there’s definitely an association here of her mom having achieved that simple, cozy homey life sarah wanted growing up and still hasn’t reached yet. as much as i do think sarah and her mom have a complicated (”strained”) relationship, i have to think sarah, baby sarah or spy sarah, often imagined what her life would’ve been like if she’d chosen her mom and not jack, especially since jack led to graham and the CIA. and here her mom is, literally living the life in that perfect family home sarah wanted... oof. but yes tl;dr they’re definitely similar!! lmao

and hey, never rude to ask me about chuck!! clearly i love to ramble about it, i take all opportunities for that 😂

[trademarkblue]

100 Days of R/Hr: Day 13

Prompt: homework

Prompted by: giulialuna90

Hope you enjoy! x

They were sequestered at their usual table at the library, the one that sat halfway submerged in a cluster of shelves, so that the smell of old, dusty texts permeated the air. He knew it was her favourite spot, because not only did they basically have the whole back right corner of the library to themselves, but she could get lost in the books and not have to speak to another soul for hours at a time if she didn’t want to. Today, however, she evidently wanted to… at least to him, because Harry had left over an hour ago, and she was currently in the midst of an overly detailed explanation of how to properly store potions that required temperature adjustments during long brewing cycles.

He had gotten scary good at being both completely invested in staring at her and simultaneously hearing and at least partially comprehending every word she said. He reckoned he should probably get started on his essay, while she was in the middle of rattling off far more than enough material to cobble together for a passing grade, but, if he was being honest, he just really didn’t want to look down at his parchment and miss the way her frustrated fingers tucked frizzy curls behind her ears, the way her tongue darted out to the corner of her mouth when she paused between monologues-

“Ron, are you even listening?”

“���Course.”

“Then what was I just saying?” She narrowed her eyes at him, and he was far too cocky about being able to supply the answer he knew she sincerely doubted he could give.

“You’d just finished explaining how bulbadox juice has got to be stored in a cool place to keep from spoiling.”

She blinked at him, and he felt a bubble of delighted satisfaction rise up, trying not to smirk.

“Alright, fine,” she said. “That was lucky.”

“Not lucky. I was paying attention.”

“Well.” She cleared her throat. “Good,” and she resumed with a list of ingredients that could withstand heat for an extended period without breaking down.

What he couldn’t do, however, was both comprehend her discourse and simultaneously remind himself that he’d had to snog Lavender and get himself poisoned to grow up. At least that second part had ended in Hermione speaking to him again, though his mind immediately drifted to the nasty words he’d said to her and how he was nearly certain he’d made her cry on more than one occasion since mid-autumn.

He forced himself to focus back on the present, the smooth curve of her neck, soft pink of her lips… listening intently again. His eyes drifted to the way she brushed her hair back over her shoulder, lingering on her partially exposed collarbone where her jumper had slid to the side-

“There’s no way you heard the last thing I said, but you’ve got to include it in your essay or it’ll be incomplete.”

His eyes snapped to hers.

“Why d’you keep thinking I’m not listening?”

She licked her bottom lip, and he forced himself not to glance down.

“Because you're…” she sighed, “thinking.”

“How can you tell?”

“You were staring.”

He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening, and his temperature jumped up a noticeable number of degrees.

“Huh?” All he could do was play dumb, he reckoned. Hopefully she’d buy it, because he was so not ready to face-

“You were looking at something over my shoulder, seemed like.”

Relief flooded him, but he was surprised to realise it was mingled with unmistakeable disappointment. Maybe a part of him actually did want her to catch him… bloody hell.

“Oh,” he said, realising she was still waiting for him to answer her. “Well, I swear I heard you. Go on.”

She glanced suspiciously over her own shoulder, anyway. But, finding nothing there aside from the edge of the nearest shelf, she cleared her throat, eyed him cryptically, and returned to her lecture.

He tried, for a few moments, to focus only on her words, but he slowly gave it up. What could he do about the fact that he found it utterly adorable the way she wrinkled her nose when she was trying hard to recall something, or the fact that he often intentionally sat closer to her than necessary on the common room sofa under the pretense of reading something off the book that was resting across her lap? It had gone just about as far as it could, by now, and the next step, though really only a marginal shift of his hand into hers, was possibly going to strangle him before he got around to it…

“Am I forcing you to study?” she questioned softly, quite abruptly interrupting her own commentary on why the transparency of various potion vials was often overlooked, yet very important…

She’d never, in his clear memories, at least, asked something like this, so it threw him off. Of course she was forcing him to study - she nearly always was, if he was doing it in the first place - but (maybe somewhat surprisingly) he couldn’t think of a single place he’d rather be at the moment, as long as she was still sitting next to him.

“I won’t be offended if you want to stop,” she added, looking like she might actually feel quite guilty for keeping him here.

“No, it’s uh… nice to have the help. Let’s keep going. This thing’s due in a week, yeah? So, we’d better hurry…” He grinned at her, delighted when she twitched her lips into a small smile back.

“Just because you like to do everything last minute…” she muttered, but she was still smiling as she flipped a few pages forward in the book closest to her.

He waited for her review of the past two months of Potions material to resume, but she didn’t speak for a good long while, and he was beginning to finally feel too self-conscious not to busy himself with some other activity when she finally looked back up at him.

“Would you like to go back to the common room and play chess?”

“Nah, I’ll stay here with you and finish-”

“I meant with me,” she clarified, and he was quite sure her cheeks had flushed a few shades deeper pink. “I’ll go back with you.”

Surprised, he considered how long it had been since they’d last done something just for fun, together. He wished he could recall the exact day, what they’d been doing, but it was too far back…

“I know I’m not very good at chess,” she continued, clearly shy all of a sudden and backtracking, “but maybe you could explain what I’m doing wrong and how to be better-

“Yeah,” he interrupted, sensing her hesitation growing, “sounds brilliant.”

She studied him for a second before smiling.

“But we can work on the essay again later, if you want,” he concluded, pausing before completely abandoning his blank parchment to make sure she knew he was sincere.

She smiled a bit wider and nodded.

“Tomorrow?” She swallowed and didn’t give him time to answer, embarrassment further colouring her cheeks. “I mean… if you aren’t doing something else-”

“I’m not. Tomorrow’s great.”

And the next day was hers, too, he thought. And also the next day… How had he gone for months without her? Well, he’d just have to make up for that, starting right now.