#brandi answers

[softpine]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Choose as many sims/ocs as you'd like for this question, What's something INCREDIBLY obscure and/or out-of-pocket about your sim/oc? Something that nobody (fellow sims and/or your followers and mutuals) knows 👀 (This could be things about their social skills, physicality and/or birth defects, or it could be something they vaguely remember, a dream they had that actually predicted the future, etc etc... whatever you come up with)

oooh i have SO many

shortly after caroline and beth got married, caroline got a tattoo of a bee for her. and well. it's a pussy tat 😌 she might have become less impulsive with time but she missed having someone's name on her, so she compromised. and beth loves it lmao (i actually did draw it and added it to her tattoo overlay even though you'll probably never see it)

mikaela is incredibly good at finding people's veins. whenever there's a patient who's scared of needles, they always have her do it because it'll be super quick and painless

casper didn't have a bedroom until he was like 6 and even then, he slept in his parents' bed until he was 12

coco was born with a broken collarbone but it's the only bone she's ever broken to this day (also, even with that, coco was the easiest birth her mom had out of 5 children, so... that poor woman has been through a lot 😬)

stevie likes going to concerts and musical festivals with the friends we don't see on-screen because they're irrelevant. they're older, so they're able to get her into places she wouldn't normally be able to go. she's taken elaine a few times and they had fun, but it's not her scene (and elaine is always worried about getting in trouble)

even when he was just starting out in the music industry as a teenager, danny has never gotten starstruck meeting celebrities. they're all just Some Guy to him. but if he met tony hawk he would literally lose the ability to speak

asa is perceived by strangers as just... a weird guy. he talks to himself under his breath (sometimes he really is talking to himself, sometimes he's talking to finn or another ghost), he's kind of shaky and twitchy because of the meds he takes, he gets lost in thought and can drift in and out of conversation, he paces around, etc. kids used to be really mean to him around middle school age, but as everyone got older they started to mostly feel bad for him and avoid him (it helps that stevie and elaine are well-liked and won't tolerate anyone saying rude things about asa)

#thank youuuu <3 i don't think i've ever gotten the simblr question of the day so this felt nice #asks #anonymous #nonsims #brandi answers

[ivorydragoness44]

I want to say, I loooove your Groves X Reader Fandictions!!!! PLEASE write more :)))

Aww, thank you!! 🥰

I have one that I plan to finally post in May. But, I may post it sooner. (I was very recently rereading it for final edits. I just need like a final paragraph at the end AH!)

#Brandi answers #anon ask #theodore groves #potc #pirates of the caribbean #potc fandom #I need to work on my WIPs of him again #mermaid!reader #ivorydragoness44 #brandi rambles

[utilitycaster]

youve converted me i started midst i fucking love it

IT'S WORKING

everyone listen to midst they have

middle aged black woman who is good at everything except charisma-based skills, is the protagonist of every Johnny Cash song

poorest little meow meow trapped in the Illusion of Choice maze what neuroses will he develop

what if the tin man were chronically ill and into gallows humor and insider trading

#answered #Anonymous #extremely weird pull but anyone out here remember brandi carlile dunking on the final verse of Highwayman #that verse is about lark now. #midst podcast

[kittyball23]

What kind of relationship do you imagine Bruce and Brandy's children having with their uncles. Do you think they all individually have a favourite or do you think they as a group bond with one of them more than the others?

Do you think they'd get along well with their unofficial aunts, Poppy and Viva?

Hmm... I think each of them have a favorite, and I think it is for the differing personalities I assume they have :)

Like, for example, his daughter who spoke about the government sounds a bit intellectual, so she and Clay would probably have some serious talks

Ketchup Kiddo probably doesn't think things through (a fault I headcanon John Dory has) which is probably why he ended up in the ketchup bottle in the first place. He and JD would get along.

Floyd would become a favorite since he'd probably spoil the kiddos with cookies and other treats. Branch would probably try his best in keeping them in line, but fail, since they'd easily rope him into their antics (particularly when they ask him to sing for them)

Poppy seemed pretty enthused discovering Bruce had kids in the first place, and encouraged the kids in getting hyped for their dad's performance, so I think they'll like her.

And, given that Viva has been officially described as "Poppy x 1000," I think she will definitely be getting along with the children as well 🙂

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #spruce trolls #brandy trolls #sprandy #branch trolls #poppy trolls #john dory #clay trolls #floyd trolls #viva trolls #dreamworks #thanks for the ask! #kittyball answers #100+

[brandycranby]

for my king ari linking hands during sex

Sunkissed

a/n: nonnie sweet nonnie ty for the first ari req 🥺🫶🏻💕💕 banner by @/cafekitsune

Condensation fogs the bedroom windows, the hazy Manhattan sunset filtering through cloudy golden, lighting you up radiant as a goddess, writhing over Ari's heaving body.

His mouth is agape, his thick brown beard still salty and wet with your juices, his eyes darkened like ocean depths. Those half-lidded eyes watch you as you squirm, fucking yourself down on his heavy cock, your pussy lips spreading for him as you slowly sink, thighs trembling with the strain. 

"A-Ari…" you breathe out, wispy light with effort, and he responds, ghosting his broad palms up your sides from where he'd been guiding your waist, up to your soft breasts, along your arms to your hands, interlacing your fingers. 

Like Andromeda clinging to her rock, you lean on him, still aching, panting, grinding against the coarse hair at the base of his cock for sparkles of pleasure. 

Lust overtakes your exhaustion as the sun travels beyond your little apartment, dousing the room in dusk. His strength is your strength and you rise to hoarse encouragement, your great brawny anchor merely mortal beneath you once more. 

---

i had fun exploring this couple and their dynamics, it's a little flowery even for me but i hope u like it 🥺👉🏻👈🏻 they live in nyc and they adore each other yes yes

come celebrate with me w seven sentence requests

#brandy answers #sweet anon <3 #my asks #my writing #seven sentence celebration: 🥭 #ari levinson x you #ari levinson x reader #ari levinson smut

[aestheticallynotdeerlightful]

Hi, Hello, I heard trolls requests were still open?

If so could I get some Bruce? Have a good night!

Brucey!

.

(Please do not use, trace, or repost my works anywhere without explicit permission from me first, thank you <3)

#deersart #my art #dreamworks trolls #dw trolls #trolls band together #trolls 3 #trolls #trolls fandom #trolls bruce #and technically brandy but it’s just her hand so I’m not gonna tag it #deer requests #deer answers

[nerevar-quote-and-star]

Yet another wild crackship between my LDB and some Skyrim dumbo, but this time it's General Tullius, and it actually gets madder from there

Look, a lot of this surprised me too. It sure surprised @elder-dragon-reposes and yet it makes sense and that's the strange beauty of it

He could be forgiven for not seeing her at Helgen. Between Ulfric's capture and the following dragon attack, Tullius had his hands full with escaped prisoners and a town in ruins. Not to mention Elenwen's attempts to take over his execution. One half-elf caught in the crossfire was below his attention at the time. When she came into Castle Dour, a cold wind in her wake as she spoke about fire and death, he had no choice but to pay attention to her. Especially when she brought up things like "peace" and "ceasefire." This Last Dragonborn was out of her mind.

Yet somehow, she led him into an agreement to meet with the Stormcloaks at High Hrothgar.

Tullius isn't quite sure he likes that. She's as double-edged as any Thalmor diplomat with her words. As noble as her intentions appear on the surface, he's not sure he can trust her.

At High Hrothgar, the Last Dragonborn, Leara, leads both sides into an agreement where no one gets what they want, but no one is worse off, and she plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

She . . . plans to trap a dragon in a castle.

Tullius knows he was sent to Skyrim to tame the rebellion, but no one ever prepared him for how maddening the people of Skyrim were. No one is as maddening as the Nords' hero. Tullius cannot understand her. He's not sure he wants to, all things considered.

The Legate is amused by his consternation. He knows this even without her saying anything. But Tullius is worried. This Leara has the power to sway Skyrim in whatever way she chooses, and if she joins the Stormcloaks, then he has a feeling that the Empire might lose more than Skyrim before all is over.

He keeps an ear out for the Dragonborn's movements. His spy network throughout Skyrim is extensive: If she breathes in Windhelm's direction, if she says anything about the Civil War, then he'll need to be ready. This woman has slain dragons. He doesn't want to see what she'll do to a legion of mortal men. Tullius needs to be ready.

Tullius is not ready when Leara walks into Castle Dour again, armorless and prim as she waltzs into his war room. Legate Rikke greets her, but Tullius pretends to give half an ear. He looks like he's going through reports, but he's trying to keep an eye on the anomaly in the room.

Legate Rikke and the Dragonborn talk quietly together. And then the Dragonborn leaves and Tullius finally puts down his paperwork. Legate Rikke is frowning.

"What did she want?"

The Legate's attention snaps to him.

"She wanted to know about our support from Cyrodiil, sir." "Support?" "She mentioned your inability to negotiate a peace settlement, General."

Tullius recalled that. He'd told the Dragonborn he couldn't do more than accept Ulfric's surrender. But why did the Dragonborn want to know about the Imperials' ability to negotiate with the rebels? Didn't she already get her peace treaty and trap her dragon?

Tullius cannot wrap his head around her. Everything his spies have reported paints her as kindness. Even the coldest Nords seem to thaw around her. But Tullius can't base his understanding of such a power player like the Dragonborn on reports and a handful of interactions. He'd have to speak with her himself.

The Winking Skeever is busy when he steps in. A few heads turn, but otherwise, no one pays Tullius any particular attention. The Dragonborn isn't difficult to find, either: She's at a corner table with her nose buried in a dusty book.

Tullius makes his way over to her.

The Dragonborn is surprised to see him but still invites Tullius to sit at her table.

"I assume this is about my discussion with your legate earlier."

She's perceptive. But Tullius already knew that.

"Do you always discuss politics in a bar?"

At his question, the Dragonborn offers a little half-smile, her eyes dancing with amusement.

"Do you?"

No. Honestly, Tullius couldn't recall the last tie he even visited a bar or tavern other than while traveling. Perhaps he was working too late, but between the Civil War, Elenwen, the dragons, and (maybe) the Dragonborn, he couldn't afford to slack off. Why else would Tullius chase the Dragonborn down to the local inn?

"Have you read much about Skyrim?"

Her question surprises him.

"War commentaries mostly. Military history."

The nod of her precise head is measured as if she expected that response. Marking her page, she closes her book and shows him the cover. It's some thick tome he's never heard of, but the knotwork dragon design around the edges breathes of old Nordic craftsmanship.

"As Dragonborn . . . [she pauses for a long moment] . . . As Dragonborn, I am highly invested in the preservation of the Empire and Skyrim."

She chews her lip.

Tullius almost asks if she's about to join the Legion. He can't deny that he'd hoped that would be her ultimate decision, but sitting here across from the Dragonborn as she was now, deliberating over words and tapping her book's cover, Tullius knew she wasn't about to swear fealty to the Emperor.

When she continues, she speaks slowly.

"General Tullius, would you be willing to help me? I need to reach out to people in the Imperial City about a peace summit, and I don't know where to begin."

A peace summit?

"I take it Ulfric didn't put you up to this?"

Her frown is surprising.

"No, he didn't. I asked him."

The Dragonborn asked Ulfric if she could talk to the Empire about a peace summit?

Before he could ask what in Oblivion that was supposed to mean, the server brought a tea service to the table. Just as quickly, he was gone.

"Would you care for a cup, General? I'm afraid all they have is lavender honey." "I . . . would like that--" "Leara."

She supplied. Her lips quirked.

So Tullius found himself ensconced at a table in The Winking Skeever and discussing different politicians and diplomats back in the Imperial City with the Dragonborn – Leara. He's halfway through his second cup when she admits that she's trying to find a peaceful resolution to the Civil War that could please everyone. He calls her a hopeful idiot, but she smiles.

"You can't please everyone." "Well, I don't think I can please the Dominion, but I can tie them in legal knots."

Leara wiggles her fingers at him, her rings glittering in the candlelight, and Tullius finds himself speechless.

If the Dragonborn – Leara – can tie the Thalmor up with a loophole, how imminent would their retaliation be? Tullius is at once intrigued and put off.

She was mad.

"Here, you'll want to write . . ."

But by the Divines, he was going to help her anyway, wasn't he? If Leara could talk Ulfric off his warpath, then maybe there was something to her hair-brained scheme.

Tullius sees Leara a few days later. She's been to the Blue Palace and the Bards College, she tells him when he meets her again at the 'Skeever. She's combing through maps and treaties, drafting letters, and making lists. Her mind is running at speeds Tullius can't comprehend, and yet she keeps looking to him for advice.

As Leara stirs a lump of sugar into her snowberry spice tea and peruses another list, Tullius wonders if she did this with Ulfric when she went to ask him to consider peace.

Her penmanship is as poised as the rest of her. He cannot see her against the harsh stony backdrop of Windhelm, amidst the snow and vitriol. She's too civilized for Skyrim. She's almost too civilized for Cyrodiil, but Tullius won't think of that.

He doesn't have a chance to give it much thought anyway when she's asking him about neutrality and the terms of the Concordat.

It's late when Tullius leaves her the second time. As he leaves, she's carrying a stack of papers upstairs. She has a hopeful lift in her step.

Tullius almost smiles.

Almost.

The next morning, Legate Rikke drops a new report on his desk. It's from Captain Aldis.

"What's this, Legate?" "There was a break-in, sir." "And we're concerned with this, because?"

Legate Rikke's jaw tightens, her eyes are wide. Whatever it is has unsettled her.

"It was at The Winking Skeever."

She sighs. Heavy. It's a familiar frustration.

"General, I believe that the Thalmor were exercising their Concordat-given rights."

A pit settles in Tullius's stomach.

"They took the Dragonborn, sir." "On what grounds?" "It doesn't say. sir. It doesn't even mention the Thalmor at all. But you know–"

Tullius doesn't hear the rest of the sentence because he realizes his mistake. He should never have discussed the possibility of an armistice with Leara in a public room. Who overheard her? Who saw Leara's notes and lists and books? Who ratted her out to the Thalmor?

Tullius's fist clenches, his knuckles pale. The one person with a Divine's chance in Oblivion to bring a favorable resolution to the Civil War and the Thalmor took her like every Talos worshipper the Empire was supposed to turn a blind eye too.

He paces around his office. Legate Rikke has left him alone, and now all Tullius can do is think and walk. Turn. Think and walk. Turn. The cycle repeats throughout his office. He only suspects that the Thalmor took Leara. Without concrete proof, he can't accuse them or he'll risk something far more uncomfortable than paperwork. But if he does nothing, then every hope for peace in Skyrim vanishes in the Dragonborn's wake.

Tullius stopped in the middle of his office, standing at a crossroads. Was it possible to ascertain that the Thalmoor abducted Leara and to request her freedom without bringing Elenwen down on his head? Probably not. But . . .

Tullius recalled the wide eyes, the fear swimming in the teary blue when Leara was faced with Elenwen at High Hrothgar. At the time, Tullius didn't think much of the Dragonborn's aversion to her. Most people hated the Thalmor Ambassador on a good day. But the terror that flickered in Leara's face before she grew cold and distant and manipulated the entire table to her own ends came back to him.

No, Tullius knew Elenwen personally had the Dragonborn. There was a history there he couldn't see, but it peeked at the edges of his vision in brilliant horror.

Elenwen had Leara, and she wouldn't let the half-elf go lightly.

If Leara could cheat an entire room of warring politicians and soldiers while ensuring a truce, then Tullius could sure as Hell try to manipulate Elenwen.

Sitting at his desk, the General ruled out any official Legion channels. Those would be tied back to him and ruin any chance Leara had of negotiating her armistice. Something under the table, then.

Mercenaries were messy. Robbing Elenwen would take a different hand. He grimaces and drafts a letter.

General . . .

The messenger hawk returns the next evening. Tullius doesn't want to think about why the hawk returned so quickly. He just hoped his charade would hold.

(Writing Galmar Stone-Fist of all people to encourage a Stormcloak raid on Northwatch Keep was something Tullius knew he could never live down if it got back to any of his superiors in Cyrodiil. He couldn't trust that General Stone-Fist would take an anonymous tip at face value, but as Leara soliloquised late that last night,)

"The enemy of my enemy is my friend."

It's four long days of giving only half his attention to his job before an Imperial scout reports that the Stormcloaks attacked the Thalmor fortress of Northwatch. When the Legion got there, nothing was left but smoldering ruins.

"They had a dragon, sir."

Tullius didn't want to know how they had a dragon, but he was optimistic that it meant Leara made it out of there alive.

With the Stormcloaks, but alive.

He sleeps through the night for the first time in over a week. When Tullius wakes up, he wonders how he could turn to the rebels to save the Dragonborn. Effective, yes, but it went against everything he was supposed to represent.

But she's alive.

She would be dead or worse off if he hadn't done it.

Tullius uses that thought to bolster himself through the coming weeks.

Then, a letter addressed to Tullius comes by way of Whiterun of all places. He recognizes the slender script curling his name across the paper. It's a short letter asking him to retrieve her belongings from her room at the 'Skeever. Two things stand out to him: The first is the thank you. Tullius cannot tell what Leara means by it because he knows that Stone-Fist didn't know who sent the tip about Northwatch. And yet there's a tearstain on the parchment, small and alone as if any others were quickly dashed away after the first one fell. The second is that all her books, papers, the things she worked on for her peace talk were all hidden in a panel behind the bookshelf in her boardroom.

Tullius didn't even think of Leara losing all her work. He was more concerned about getting her out. He was more worried about her than anything else.

Tullius buries his face in his hands.

This was a familiar feeling. It'd been years since the last time he felt like this.

Although, Tullius gave himself a wry smile, he doubted he'd have betrayed the Empire for the Countess of Anvil's cousin.

Tullius goes early the next morning to retrieve Leara's things, hidden or otherwise. A member of his spy network is tasked with getting the parcels to a Lydia in Whiterun. Then Tullius watches as every connection he has to the Dragonborn disappears out the doors of Castle Dour.

It's back to the everyday humdrum of war, then.

Until, some months later, a familiar half-elf comes into Solitude. Now, she's accompanied by a dark-haired Nord woman in heavy armor. Her stormy expression and hawkish eyes remind Tullius of Rikke at times. Leara introduces her as Lydia, her housecarl. Then Leara is handing him a folio of papers.

"I've been corresponding with some of the Elder Council. I'm planning a summit in Whiterun."

He takes the folio from her.

"What's this?" "My draft for a permanent peace treaty. I thought that since you helped me, you'd like to peruse it. Of course, I need to get it to Jarl Elisif when you're finished."

That Leara is offering to let him be a part of her peace treaty isn't lost on Tullius. He sets the folio on the table but leaves his hand on top, protecting it.

"I can come back for it tomorrow." "I'll get it back to you tonight."

Legate Rikke coughs, obviously. Tullius adds,

". . . we can discuss it over dinner, if you like?"

Leara's smile is full.

"I would like that."

They don't end up talking much about the draft. But Tullius gives Leara some of his favorite brandy after their dinner of roast lamb and stewed vegetables. Her giggle is light and airy, and her hand is cool like spring water when he takes it across the table.

Perhaps he drank more than he should have, but liquid courage was a reassuring friend.

At the end of the night, Leara, tipsy and yet all grace, presses a petal soft kiss to the corner of his mouth. She pulls away.

His hands slide up her arms, callused fingers catching on the soft linen of her sleeves. And he pulls her back and kisses her, full and properly on the mouth.

Leara tastes of tea and winter and something floral and frosted. There's more than magic in her mouth – there's music and mercy. If Tullius wasn't drunk before, he finds himself intoxicated on Leara.

She strokes his face, smiling, always smiling, and then backs away. Her eyes are bright and liquid and as deep as Lake Rumare. In the low glow of golden orange firelight, she is beautiful.

He loves her.

He doesn't say it, and soon she's gone, slipping through doors into the night. An angel passing from the room.

The next day, he finds that she left him her address. It had been a long time since Tullius even tried to write a love letter. They were never his strong suit, but Leara had a way of inspiring madness in him. He wrote her.

And Leara wrote him back.

Again and again and again.

Tullius doesn't expect for his presence to be needed when the summit is called in Whiterun. The Empire has its own group of delegates to negotiate the terms of Skyrim's division. But still, Elisif the Fair says that General Tullius has been asked to attend. The young queen seems as if she can't quite believe it, but she was often wide-eyed and overwhelmed as it was.

(Maybe Julia was right. He should listen to Elisif more. But pretty soon, it was likely Tullius would never see the Queen of Solitude again.)

Leara is there in Whiterun, laying out the terms of the Armistice with the light and delicacy he'd come to expect from her. How many others here knew she was anxious that things would crumble apart, that things would come to blows, and that the war would escalate for all her efforts to temper the fire?

Ulfric's face is a dark stormcloud, but somehow the Jarl of Windhelm appears to hold his tongue around the Dragonborn. He watches her, defers to her, and in return, Leara smiles at him.

Tullius is simply in an advisory position for the Imperial delegates to mine information on the state of the Civil War and the Imperial Legion. He never speaks to Ulfric, and seldom to Leara during the weeklong summit. But he sees the Jarl speak to her between sessions. Leara is quiet and nods. Her eyes are faraway and thoughtful.

Tullius remembers that when she first brought the idea of the summit to him, Leara mentioned that she convinced Ulfric to agree to it. For the first time, Tullius wonders how Leara went about winning Ulfric Stormcloak to her side.

His chest burns.

When the Armistice is signed and Skyrim divided in two–

"Divided, you can finally be united."

Leara said.

–there is a feast. Leara is in demand all night. Tullius watches from the sidelines, some Cyrodilic brandy in hand as he watches one person after another flit around her, bees buzzing around a blooming rose. After a while, Tullius gets up and retires to the quiet of the Dragonsreach porch.

He isn't out there long when the doors open again. From the dark stairwell where he sat, he saw Leara flit by, orbited by Ulfric.

Tullius's hand tightened on his glass.

"You must be relieved that's over." "I'm glad we could reach a resolution."

She deflected Ulfric's concern with a wave of her hand.

But Tullius knew the truth: She was terrified of the summit. She was terrified she'd fail.

"What will you do now?"

Leara's question broke through Tullius's thoughts.

Ulfric shifted.

"There's much to do. Skyrim hasn't been in a state like this since the Second Era. I'll need to work quickly to bring stability to the east before we can truly reap any of tonight's rewards." "You have a busy schedule, Jarl Ulfric! [her laugh is musical] Even when my work ends, you still have so much to do!" "Leara . . ."

There's a hesitation in Ulfric's voice that Tullius never would have imagined from the man who Shouted High King Torygg apart. Leara's responding,

"Yes, Ulfric?"

is careful.

"I was hoping that you would come to Windhelm with me. To help me." "Help you? As an advisor? Certainly, but–" "Not as an advisor. Not . . . as you're thinking. Leara, surely you must know what I feel for you." "Oh."

If Tullius didn't fear being caught, he'd have stormed from the porch. Or over to Ulfric and pushed him off. Or something. His blood was rushing in his ears.

Certainly, he and Leara hadn't truly defined what it was between them. This week was the first time he'd seen her since kissing her that night in Solitude, and in this week, they'd hardly been alone together long enough to discuss anything beyond the summit and the usual pleasantries.

But her letters were candid and funny and full of ideas. Her mind spilled across the page in curling and shifting lines.

Tullius knew then that while he had Leara's mind, there was every possibility that Ulfric had her heart. She was as divided as Skyrim was.

"Ulfric–" "While Skyrim was at war, I knew I couldn't give you the attention you deserved. But now that we can have some peace, I wish to ask you for your hand. Leara, you ignite a fire in my chest that burns my heart when you are near. Please do me the honor of agreeing to marry me."

There's silence. Long, drawn-out silence. Somewhere on the plains, a wolf howls. Its cry echoes the pain in Tullius's chest.

"Ulfric . . ."

Leara's voice is choked, emotional but she is forcing it down.

"Ulfric, you're very dear to me, but I can't marry you."

It was only Ulfric's loud,

"You can't? Why?"

That covered the sound of Tullius's brandy glass slipping to shatter on the stone stairs.

Leara hesitated.

"I can't give you my heart because it belongs to someone else. I can't take it back." "Who?"

Leara quieted.

"Please, Leara, if you won't marry me, then allow me the courtesy of knowing who I lost you to!" "I–"

Leara choked.

Tullius's heart sped up as his hands shook. He was as anxious as Ulfric to hear her answer.

"You won't like it." "Who is it? Galmar? I know he was the one to pull you from that Thalmor pit."

Divines. That would just be the cherry on top of this entire fiasco, wouldn't it?

"No, not . . . It's . . . General Tullius."

The silence that followed was more deafening than any that proceeded it. Even from the darkened stairwell, Tullius could since the thunder around Ulfric, rumbling silent and yet violent.

"You won't marry me because you're in love with Tullius?" "If that's how you want to put it, yes, that's it." "Leara – I, he . . ."

For once, all of Ulfric's fine speeches seemed to fail him.

"Please don't be upset."

Leara's voice is as soothing as the first spring rain, as far apart from Ulfric's hurricane as possible.

There was a rustle of skirts.

"You are a very important person to me, for more than you can possibly know, but I can't give you the love you want. It's not mine to give you." "But Tullius–" "Has been so vital to me during these last several months. We would not have this peace if not for him. I needed him." "I need you." "I know, but I've given you all I can. I can't give you any more."

Tullius peeks around the corner far enough to see Leara on her tiptoes. She whispers something in Ulfric's ear, then presses a fleeting kiss to his cheek. Tullius ducks back just in time to be hidden as Ulfric turns and leaves the porch. The doors shut behind him with a whisper of finality.

"You can come out now, General."

Tullius's knees are stiff as he gets up from the steps. Leara is waiting for him in the middle of the porch, her red hair a dark contrast against the white gold of her skin and the pale ivory of her gown. She's aetheric in the moon and aurora lights.

"I hope you finished your brandy before the glass fell."

His neck grows warm with embarrassment.

"Is that how you knew I was there?"

Leara's coy smile was her only answer. Yes, then. Well.

"Ulfric Stormcloak proposed to you." "Yes, he did." "And you turned him down." "Yes, I did. " "Why . . ."

Her hand was on the side of his face. She was perhaps a hairsbreadth taller than him, maybe an inch, but her hand felt so small against his face that Tullius couldn't help but reach up and clasp it with his own for fear that it slip away.

"I thought you were eavesdropping." "Well, I wouldn't say that–" "And, therefore, would know why I turned Ulfric down."

Tullius tries to swallow, but his throat is tight. Leara's hand is cool against his skin, and he takes comfort in that.

"You love me." "Yes, I do."

Her smile is radiant.

Tullius's hand slips from Leara's, but then his arms are around her waist, pulling her into him. She is slim and cool and everything a flower in winter might be. He buries his nose in her neck, amidst the frost and flowers.

"I love you."

She doesn't reply. She only tightens her arms around his torso. They stand there in the quiet of the night, away from the celebrations but togehter under the stars.

Later, when Tullius returns to Solitude for the last time, he packs his things for the return to the Imperial City. He takes his bags to the docks.

And there Leara is waiting for him, Lydia her housecarl in tow. She smiles at him, full and vivid.

"You're late. My trunks are already on board. Right, Lydia?"

Lydia rolls her eyes.

"All eleven of them, my Thane."

Tullius chuckles, quiet.

Leara's hand finds his, and he helps her up the gangplank of the Imperial Naval ship. It would be a long voyage, but Leara had never sailed before, so that would be their mode of transportation back to the Imperial City.

"What will we do when we get there?"

Leara's question is teasing and free of the burden of being Dragonborn and peacemaker. There were still the Thalmor to worry about, but after the ruin of Northwatch and the signing of the armistice, Tullius hoped they'd think thrice before going after Leara again.

"I'll buy you expensive teas and you'll drain my accounts on tea and books."

Her giggle rang out amidst the sounds of the ship preparing to leave the harbor.

"Oh yes, that must be why I've gone and married you."

Tullius pulled his wife to his side and slipped his arm around her waist.

"Must be."

It couldn't possibly be that she was the most maddening thing in the world and she drove him mad by proximity.

Madly in love.

What nonsense.

fin

#I HAVE TAITED SO LONG TO WRITE THE TULLEA CRACKSHIP POST #rip ulfric but tullius is different i guess #new challenge: how many commanders from both sides of the civil war can we get to fall in love with leara? answer: all of them #some of this surprised me a lot but some of it was also hard to write i need to get away from leara politicking it's giving me a headache #galmar is my favorite unsung hero and you will pry him from my cold dead hands #using words like stormy and hawkish to describe strong Nord warrior women like rikke and lydia as a call back to kyne #this is the tea and brandy ship welcome aboard #general tullius #ulfric stormcloak #oc: leara roseblade #lydia #legate rikke #mod post #tullea #rosecloak #onesided #the elder scrolls #tes #skyrim #fanfic

[kald-dal-art]

Brandy or tanner!

Already drawn Tanner, so why not draw the character that made me go

"Shit just got real!" when I read TBOSAS for the first time

#brandy #brandy tbosas #tbosas brandy #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #the hunger games #the hunger games fan art #thg art #thg fanart #tbosas art #tbosas fan art #eva answers stuff #clip studio paint #fan art

[bb-enablefreebuild]

HURR DURR Asa has a twin named Callie

@softpine's latest update had me SHAKING and the only way to stop my tremors was to write an AU where Asa has a twin with similar powers and smells bullshit from a mile away leave me alone I am COPING !!! !! !

#BRANDI ANSWER YOUR TEXTS #shakign crying throwing up #anyway. #other sims #ts4 #the sims 4 #writing #creative writing #frozen pines #uhhh #fanfic #ghosts

[same-name-supremacy]

Which ships are "canon" in your au?

Alright I’m too lazy to look for the question so. Uh RAPID FIRE!

Noelle x Jody

Corey x Glenn

Danika x Trin

Ginnifer x Bryson

Harriet x Eliz

Evan x Issac

Alejandra x Taylor

Lincoln x Heath

Seth x Brandy

You did give me an art idea though! Thank you!

#td genderswap #same name answers #same name shenanigans #seth brandy ginnifer and bryson are the token quote on quote straight couple

[softpine]

Would you eat someone out on their period

me in the pussy if i'm being honest

#if you say no to this you are weak and will not survive the winter 🫶🏻 #asks #anonymous #nonsims #brandi answers

[ivorydragoness44]

Hi! Is there a part 2 to this? I looked on your Masterlists but couldn't find one

Hi :) Unfortunately, there is no Part 2 to Ahkmenrah x Reader: Sarcophagus. I honestly didn't know anyone wanted one. But I'll make a note for myself to think of ideas for a Part 2 😊 Thank you

#Brandi answers #asks #ahkmenrah #ahkmenrah natm #ahkmenrah x reader #natm fandom #natm #ivorydragoness44

[somer-writes]

chain’s favourite music genres? 👀

Ohohoho what a lovely question!!

time: jazz. Usually like etta James or Billie holiday. Sometimes maybe like cab Calloway. Occasionally he’s into the experimental shit

wars: pop music. He claims it’s not, but hes a total swiftie. He had imagine dragons on repeat for a while. He knows kpop dances.

twi: country but not stadium country. Alison Krauss, Dwight yokam, kacey musgraves. Probably some old stuff like Carter family and mother maybelle bc he has a bad singing voice. Dabbles into murder ballads

sky: acoustic, singer songwriter. I think he likes Iz, probably also Mumford and sons and sister hazel.

wild: desert rock. Tinariwen, Ali Farke Touré. Chill but emotional, easy for group songs around campfires

legend: indie rock. Big thief, Indigo de souza. Angst but he doesn’t go super heavy. Music For Sad People.

hyrule: folk rock. Fleetwood Mac, Carly Simons, Don McLean. Emotional easy listening, songs most people know.

four: okay so breaking this down by color bc it’s up to who has the aux cord

Green: college rock. Third eye blind, Jimmy eat world. red: musicals. Big bombastic emotional swells. Waitress, Hairspray. blue: thrash punk. ANGRRRRR. Heavens to Betsy, suicidal tendencies. vio: Mozart bc he’s sadder than he likes to seem. Sufjan Stevens

wind: teen pop. Whatever’s on the radio but I think also dad rock bc he wants to seem grown up. Recently discovered the who. Has not yet made it to Led Zeppelin. Probably also likes weird Al and tenacious d a lot.

#somer answers #struggled with hyrule #bc I think folk also works for him #Maybe Brandi Carlisle #linked universe #lu chain

[kittyball23]

Could you please do a fanfic about Bruce and Brandi? I’ve always been in love with married couples and now I’m just in love with them and no one talks about them! It’s killing me! Maybe how they met or something but it’s okay if you can’t. ☺️

Sure thing! I like this ship, too :)

Meeting You (a Trolls fanfic)

Slowly, but surely, Spruce came back into consciousness.

He hadn’t quite remembered when he had been knocked out, and was still not in the right mindset to remember exactly how, either. His head was fuzzy, throbbing with a dull but persistent aching, and his whole body felt like someone had beaten him senseless. He willed himself to move, but was unable to find the energy to do so just yet. Everything seemed heavy, his muscles burning with soreness and protesting against anything that would require him to shift his position.

Suddenly, somewhere in his mind, he had a dreadful thought. Maybe I'm… dead.

But his conscience was adamant to not believe that. He couldn't be dead! The life he'd had was a short one, barely two decades worth of existence, and it would be unthinkable that it could end so soon. 

Straining to search for any sign that it wasn't true, Spruce honed in on his senses, trying to pick out anything indicative that he was not, perhaps, actually dead yet. It took a second, but soon he heard it - the sound of a voice, worried at that, and a little muffled, coming from nearby. And, as his hearing equalized back to its normal level of sharpness, he came to note that it was, in actuality, coming from right above him.

"Come on... wake up..."

He felt what seemed to be a large hand pressing down on his chest, pumping rhythmically up and down against his sternum.

"Come on," it came again, in a desperate whisper this time. The pumping continued and, with the building of pressure within him, Spruce felt a substance rise in his throat, salty and acidic, and finally a violent cough sputtered out of him. He gasped for air, hacking hard for a few moments before it finally subsided. Then, slowly, he forced open his heavy eyelids. His vision swam for a moment before focusing enough to make out the basic shapes composing a face. A tall, blurry, indistinct figure hovered over him, outlined by a stunning halo glow that, if possible, made him feel even more breathless than he already was. Hoarsely, he managed to find the ability to speak.

"Am... am I in heaven?"

A light, feminine laughter met him. "No... but I guess this place comes as a pretty close second."

This place? Spruce rubbed his eyes, blinked a few times to adjust to the harsh, bright lighting, and  squinted. Now that he could see clearer, he made out the powdery white sand underneath his body, and the thick jungle-like foliage some distance behind him. Blue waves crashed at a shoreline several yards away from where he lay, in the company of whom he presumed to have been his rescuer from whatever the accident was that he'd endured. She was not a Troll, that much was clear, but what creature she was, he couldn't say he had a clue. But, even with the intriguing felt texture of her skin, stringy yarned hair, and puppet-like features that devised her characteristics, there was still something awfully alluring about her.

She was staring down at him with large, dark eyes, her expression filled with concern. "I was worried I'd have to do CPR. Are you okay?" she asked.

Suddenly, even in his withered state, Spruce felt the need to turn up the charm. "Better, now that I'm with you," he purred seductively. Or, as seductively as he could. It was difficult to sound an ounce attractive when his voice sounded like it had been put through a meat grinder. Oh well. At least his abs would fill in where his words couldn't. He turned to lay fully on his back, so that the firm, pectoral muscles were very much visible, and continued. "But just to be sure, I wouldn't mind you performing some of that mouth-to-mouth." He winked and pursed his lips, waiting to see how she'd react.

There seemed to be a sparkling look in her eyes, like one of enchantment, and Spruce believed his captivating spell to be working... until she spoke.

"Hmm. I dunno, you seem pretty fine to me."

He took it in stride. "Oh, I am fine, baby. And so are you." Spruce smiled at her, and gave another quick wink. She laughed softly, rolling her eyes at him with obvious affection, and leaned over to gently pat him on the cheek. Spruce felt his insides flutter, though he remained outwardly cool. He didn't want to appear too eager - there was a certain method to his madness, after all.

A method, it seemed, that she wasn't going to so easily be played by.

"Nice try," she whispered, getting back up on her feet and starting to head off.

Spruce was surprised to see her go so quickly. "Wait! Miss, uhh... um..." He trailed off, not actually knowing what to call her.

"Brandy," she responded.

"Miss Brandy," he repeated smoothly, wondering if her lips tasted as subtly sweet as the drink that was her namesake, "you wouldn't just leave a gorgeous, hunk of man laying in the middle of the wilderness, would you?"

Brandy paused in her steps and turned to look back at him. She tilted her head and smirked. "Maybe," she said coyly, "if he was uninjured and more than capable of walking back to town after a few minutes of rest."

Shoot, Spruce groaned inwardly. While feeling a tad bit bruised from the rough waters that had tossed him in the first place, he sported no major traumas on his body. He'd be more than capable of doing what she'd said without so much as a problem. A tad exasperated that this was not going the way he'd wanted it to, Spruce sighed. "Come on, girl, I'm trying here!"

Brandy chuckled. "Well then, I guess you'll just have to try a little bit harder then, huh?"

Spruce watched her saunter towards the trees, a small grin stretching across his features as he remained mesmerized by the slight sway her hips made with every sashaying step she took. After a few moments, she called over her shoulder.

"You're welcome for saving your life, by the way!"

And with those parting words, she slipped into the treeline, leaving him alone to stammer one meager, lovestruck reply.

"Th-thanks!"

#trolls #trolls 3 #trolls band together #spruce trolls #brandy trolls #sprandy #dreamworks #fanfiction #kittyball writes #thanks for the ask! #kittyball answers

[brandycranby]

Hii!! By your mouth and mine was the first (and might be the only?) Asian!reader-specific fic I’ve read for Steve and it always stuck with me!! Your writing is so poetic and expressive ❤️❤️

Could i request a Steve/reader smut of him eating you out?? I’d love it if the reader was East Asian but it doesn’t have to be!!! Happy anniversary :)))

Like A Prayer

a/n: ty for this request nonnie 🥺🫶🏻 i'm sorry this has taken so long!! this is east asian reader but not too explicit and no description

What's the virtue of abstinence to a man who’s had 70 years pass by in the blink of an eye? 

He can’t be expected to be able to wait, peacefully slumbering beside you, deep in dreaming, entrusted with your parent’s severe blessing to wed and to follow the unspoken rules of their house. 

Instead, Steve falls into you, his daydream lashes brushing his cheeks, eyes half-open to memorialize the heave of your soft tummy, your hands squeezing your breasts in a way that he understands is painful but cathartic in wake of the pleasure he gives. 

His mouth is latched to your pussy, an airtight seal; gently, he caresses your clit with the broad flat of his tongue, tracing the delicate seam between the pearl tip and hood, and his pink lips move against your labia, like a knight kissing the palm of his star-like lady in devotion, making his touch last before he rides out. 

Just like, but not really; this is something much more holy. 

He hunches over, cramped on the edge of your childhood bed, back bowed in worship; prayer is silent and so are you, throat closing and forcing back any sounds as your fingers strum over your nipples, flicking them in time with his tongue until you buck against his chin, another burst of slippery fluid seeping out, wanting him, wanting more. 

And Steve is a sinner, Steve is a hero, Steve is your disciple with blue-fire eyes pledging devotion to you.

---

i wrote this at work :)) enjoy steve in horny jail, feel free to join him 😌 hehe it's my first foray into writing since summer, sorry if this is super weird

seven sentence celebration masterlist

#brandy answers #sweet anon <3 #my asks #seven sentence celebration: 🥭 #steve rogers x you #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x asian!reader #my writing

[lilacevans]

curtis always being filthy for some reason? sign me up 🫡💕💕 like why does the fear that he'll give me an infection make me squirm 🙂 im not ok ANYWAYS tell us about his tattoos, queen 🫠

he likes to get his hands dirtyyyyyy. & girlie pls, he’s always clean where it counts, he’s not a total animal😵‍💫. & bestie, that man is C O V E R E D. traditional tats of course, has a section dedicated to his gruesome body count. a nice sleeve, skulls, roses, a big ass serpent wrapped around his thigh, maybe he even gets ur pet name tattooed on you at some point; he’s always adding to the collection and ain’t to shabby at tattoo’ing himself😵‍💫🤩🤍

#lila answers #pete’s place #curtis🤎 #brandycranby<3 #brandy baby🥃🤎