Shahara-Belladonna

Fire and ice are two completely different elements of life. One cannot survive without the other. It’s like the light and the dark, the day and the night, the love and the hate. They are vital to each other in the way of life. I don’t know if it’s like you and I right now, but I can most certainly say that we’re kind of the opposites of one another. One of us is ice. We have an immensely cold heart, unwilling to listen to what the other person says. There are moments in which we wish we could hear the other person speak, but we recognize it will not happen for a long time. The ice is thick, unbreakable to shatter to what

After "How to Get Away With Murder", here is « how to get away with the ex-wife of your boyfriend ». Which is substantially the same in terms of problems created.  It had been three years since Aaron Hotchner, the (very hot) FBI profiler, and you, a passionate bookseller of art history and archaeology, Christian art, Byzantine and High Middle Ages ( yes, Christian churches in Armenia in the seventh century can be extremely sexy ), were dating. You were Penelope Garcia’s cousin, and you met Aaron Hotchner, going to visit her in her office at the FBI headquarters in Quantico. The introduction wasn't the best, especially ho

You scowled as you tapped diligently away at your keyboard, watching the words appear on the monitor before you, occasionally pausing to correct a mistake or change words around in your endeavor to complete your report. "[f/n] what are you still doing up? It's nearly three o'clock in the morning!" a voice you recognized as John Watson whispered and you looked up, blinking as your eyes readjusted to compensate for the darkness of the room surrounding the little haven of illumination your computer screen provided. "Is it really that late?" you mumbled, pressing the heels of your hands against your eyes in an effort to force the exhaustion from

    “No, more like this [f/n], try and copy my movements. We’ll start slowly, all right?”    You sighed and straightened, arching your back to give the sore muscles a stretch before dropping back down into the proper position, doing your best to mirror your instructor, holding your training lightsaber close to your body. The instrument hummed with power, pulsing with a soft blue light as you slowly progressed through the footwork for the series you were having difficulty with.    “Good, you’re doing well, keep going,” Obi-Wan Kenobi encouraged, watching your movements with a practised eye. “Now fo

    “Dean, I’m bored!” you whined from the backseat of the Impala, “We’ve been driving for ages!”    “And this is different from any other road trip that we go on every day because why?”    You shrugged, “I dunno. I’m just bored. Can we play a game or something?”    “Oh yeah, I’ve got Monopoly in the trunk, do you want to be the banker?” Dean shot back sarcastically and you rolled your eyes.    “I meant like a word game or riddles or I Spy or something.” you grumbled, crossing your arms as you pushed your lower lip out in a childish pout.