#ntil he can’t take it..

[dabisbratz]

thinkin thots abt gettin fucked by leon while wearin his jacket..

#listen i knowwww m’a animanga blog but #v’always loved leon)); n hes too pretty tnot talk abt!! #my pretty pretty pretty boy!!!!! #wanna kiss him all over ): #n n n #get kisses all over from him)): #(never kissed anyone in my life) #(n vice versa) #but i jus knowwwwwwww #he’s so good at it #n he’d start off so sweet n reassuring.. #ntil he can’t take it.. #SPECIALLY IF WEARIN JUS HIS JACKET ALONE??? #i need him. #real bad. #him fingerin you/your mouth with his fingerless gloves #….need a minute…. #mso down bad #dolly.txt

[m4ttslvr]

Never Enough

rough sub!chris x fem!reader

one shot: where Chris fucked you senseless last night yet he can’t get enough, so when you wake up to him touching himself in the morning, you decide to help him out

warnings: short smut, riding, marking, spanking, cumslut, hair pulling, wrist restriction, pet names

Chris pov

She laid there sleeping peacefully with her back towards me while my cock was painfully hard, tenting the sheets.

I couldn’t help it— knowing y/n was laying naked inches away from me, in my own bed. It was driving me crazy.

We had just fucked all night last night and that was the best pussy I’ve ever had. Her taste, her wetness, her tightness, her sweet sweet noises— my dick twitched.

I looked over at her while I reached down to touch myself, biting my lip to keep quiet. My movement made the sheets fall off her frame, exposing her delicate curves for me to admire.

I’m fighting for my life to keep my eyes from rolling back since I couldn’t help but stroke myself incredibly fast at the sight of her.

I had completely exhausted her last night having overstimulated her ntil she couldn’t take it anymore, so I felt bad waking her only a few hours into the night. But her bare ass was right there and I couldn’t help but moan remembering how that ass was up in the air for me to pound at last night.

My noises made her shift but I couldn’t stop touching myself now, with the memory of her on all fours arching her back to take my entire cock replaying in my head. My movements were shaking the bed and I was panting hard through my nose.

She turned around, squinting her eyes at me, trying to adjust her vision in the dim morning light of the room. “Ch–Chris?” her voice was low and croaky— it was so fucking sexy it made my dick twitch in my hand.

Her eyes widened at the sight of what I was doing. I was no longer trying to be quiet so there was no mistaking what I was doing.

Y/n’s pov

You woke up to the bed shaking underneath you. You barely had the strength to turn around, your body spent from last night. You called out for Chris while your vision adjusted and your foggy brain finally processed that Chris was moaning and panting right next to you.

Your eyes widened, now fully awake, when you saw his hand moving fast under the sheets. Your heart instantly started racing at the sight of Chris touching himself, his toned stomach clenched and sweaty. His hair messy and his cheeks tinted pink. He was moaning and whimpering loudly now that you were awake, the noises he was making causing you to stutter.

“Ch-Chris” you repeated, just to say something.

His strokes sped up and his head fell back against the pillow in pleasure, “mmm— keep saying my name like that baby, please”

His voice was high and needy, it made your head dizzy and your pussy wet. You fully turn towards him and you can see his eyes dart down to your tits. You lick your lips before repeating his name again.

“Fuck yes, so sexy baby— fuck” his voice kept getting louder, you could tell he was getting close to his orgasm. The movement of his fist on his dick made the sheets fall off of him, exposing his red veiny cock. That cock you absolutely loved and went absolutely feral for.

You instantly started salivating at the sight, your hips involuntarily grinding against the sheets that were now soaked underneath you.

You reach for his free hand that had been gripping the sheets and bring it over to your breast, your hard nipples craving contact. Chris wasted no time gripping hard, making you wince. His other hand maintained a fast pace on his cock that was now leaking with precum.

“Oh Chris, you’re just never satisfied are you? Always needing more— that filthy cock of yours always getting hard around me, huh?” you started, getting on your knees to straddle him. The contact of your warm thighs on his cold ones causing you both to hiss.

“Isn’t that right Chris?” you asked innocently, making sure to repeat his name, knowing he loved the way you said it. And it was evident by the way his gripped himself harder, his knuckles white and his face scrunched in pleasure.

“Can’t help it baby” he panted, struggling to maintain his dark blue eyes on yours. “Need it all the time” his voice was shaky and weak. “Need you all the time”

“Then have me Chris” you said, snatching his hand from his cock and placing it on your other breast, the precum on it rubbing against your nipple making your head fall back. His mouth opened with excitement and he licked his bottom lip, while nodding like a hungry dog.

“Yes please, yes” he begged under you, his voice whiny. It made you smile, loving how unafraid he always was of being vocal about what how much he wanted you. “Need that perfect pussy of yours around my cock so bad”

You were blushing while you aligned his cock with your entrance and slammed down, bouncing on him at the same pace he had been pumping himself, determined to fuck him senseless.

You both moaned out a string of curses as you felt his cock hit deep inside of you, your walls instantly clenching around his thickness. It was euphoric, the bit of pain of him stretching you combined with the incredible pleasure of it.

Your juices were spilling out of you with each bounce, coating his cock and balls in them. Each time you slammed down the slapping noises were loud and wet. His hold on your tits tightened and his head thrown back and his mouth open in pleasure. The sight of him coming undone underneath you encouraged you to maintain this fast pace and you ignored the ache in your thighs.

Chris had just fucked your brains out only a few hours ago yet the pleasure of his cock filling you up like nobody else has was too good and too addictive. You wanted it all the time too.

Your muscles were sore, your skin already peppered in hickeys and bruises, there was dry cum on your belly, and your lips were swollen, Chris having abused your body all the way last night. Still, you didn’t care— you both simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

“‘m not gonna last babe” Chris whined underneath you. “fucking me so good”

“It’s ok Chris, cum in me whenever” you panted, your thighs burning. “This pussy’s all yours” you clenched around him swiveling your hips in small circles and wrapped your hands around his neck, just the way he likes it.

His eyes rolled back into his head and you couldn’t help but throw your own head back. The feeling of his cock filling you up and the swivel of your hips causing your clit to rub against his groin was all too pleasurable.

He slapped your ass, causing you to jump and snap out of the trance you were in. His eyes were on yours, begging for you to bounce on him. You regained your pace, holding on to his chest for balance.

Chris gripped your hips hard as he thrust up into your pussy, chasing his high. You moan loudly at the sensation and fall forward onto him, gripping the sheets on either side of his head.

His hands snaked up to your back, sliding up your curves. He wrapped one arm around your waist to keep you in place, while his other hand gripped your hair, tugging at it. “tired princess?”

You were now the one that couldn’t for coherent sentences— hell you could barely form coherent thoughts. You just whined hoping it was a good enough reply for him.

His thrusts were hard and fast, each time the leaking tip of his cock hitting the sensitive spot inside you just right. Your body heat from both of radiating hot waves, making the room steam.

Your arms were shaking with exhaustion now, the physicality of it getting to you. Chris’s pounding was relentless though and you were taking it all so well. He could tell you were exhausted, so he grabbed your shaky arms and held them behind your back in on grip.

“My sweet girl, always so good to me” Chris praised in your ear, you were now close to cumming. You were probably going to cum before him if he kept thrusting this deep into you, while holding your body in place like this. “Taking my cock so good baby, cum with me please. I want you to cum with me”

You could only make a noise of agreement and nod your head in his shoulder. He’d normally make you voice your thoughts but right now he was being easy on you, given that he was the one who initiated this by touching himself— you were only being a good girlfriend and helping him out.

His last few thrusts were sloppy but effective and he had you cumming all over his cock, your pussy clenching and unclenching with the waves of pleasure washing over you. Your hands gripped his hair hard. His praises and curses sounded far away to you now since your orgasm made your ears muffled and your brain foggy.

Nevertheless, you could feel Chris cumming inside of you a couple thrusts after you. He bit down on your shoulder and grunted loudly. The feeling of his hot load filling you up inside was always the part that made your body spasm and your legs give out.

He rode out both of your orgasms with small slow thrust while you came down from your highs. Your body draped on top of his and you made no effort to get off of him since you knew he liked to stay inside you after. Plus you couldn’t move even if you wanted to.

You could feel Chris petting your hair and leaving sweet kisses on your temple. He mumbled sweet words into your ear as you drifted off to sleep, content that you helped your boyfriend out instead of him having to do it himself. You would deal with your aching muscles and sore body tomorrow, right now everything was perfect.

*masterlist

a/n: heyyy yall i’m baaack ahaa haa.. i was totally not fighting writers block! me??? neverrr. ANYWAY, is it just me or has Chris been the hottest most sexiest little slut lately? I cannot get him out of my head ESPECIALLY AFTER THAT MIRROR PIC IN HIS HEART BOXERS LIKE— 🛐

₊━ִ─ LEV ᡴꪫㅤ·⠀· 

#chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #sturniolo fandom #sturniolo triplets #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #sturniolo fanfic #one shot #stromboli #chrispy #y/n #y/n smut #y/n fanfic #yes yes yes

[ephemeralove]

smoke and mirrors

You have turned your back on justice and joined the Dragon and his coterie of imposters… or so he thinks. A threatening “offer you can’t refuse” becomes the opportunity of a lifetime when he bribes you for information and cooperation, opening up a chance for you to feed false information and get some insight into how the group operates. That said, the enigmatic “Al” is said to be an intelligent and calculating man in his own right. Be warned, this may be one of his traps… [Grants Any Weapon +1]  

Katarina’s hands come away from the walls of the stairwell-- an aged and splintering thing-- with a heavy new coating of dust, prints left behind in wispy trails and stippling. Clearly whatever den these crooks have made their nest in is not well-loved enough to be maintained. The tactician coughs quietly into her other fist, ignoring the way it tickles her throat. No matter its state of disrepair, it cannot be worse than what she’s already known -- and even that is worth it to take hold of the lead that’s presented itself to her. 

On a silver platter, no less. She can’t help but be suspicious of it, but the prize is worth the price. 

The brute leading her into the basement of their hideout stops abruptly, no more than a second’s space keeping Katarina from walking directly into his back. “Siddown,” he commands, rearing in a half-turn to push her to the end of the last couple steps. “Yer gonna wait ‘ntil... uh...” Thin brows knit and tangle in a script half remembered. “’Til he’s ready to receive ya, yeah.” And then he’s off, clomping his way back up the rickety old stairs one boot-step at a time. 

Clonk, clonk. The Altean heaves a silent breath of relief, a hand running over her shoulder. Only-- when she turns to look at the ‘waiting room,’ she finds a familiar face instead. Too familiar - the sort of person they’d do well to have play their fake Hero-King rather than... whatever shameless fool they’d found instead.  

“Chrom...?” She asks, her voice no more than a whisper as she creeps over the creaky floorboards to meet him. “Wh-what are you doing here..?”

#ylisseanstar #t: smoke and mirrors #almost sent this out into the world with the title 'title' ...

[zukkaoru]

for the ask game - "please come get me" with best friends sokka & toph ?

may i offer you some modern au sokka & toph featuring nonbinary toph & sokka with tourette's?

warnings for alcohol / unintentional underage alcohol consumption / a character being drugged via drinks being switched around (all are only talked about, as this is entirely set after the fact)

(angst quote prompts)

Sokka told Toph not to go to the party.

He told them that they would regret it. That it wouldn’t be as fun as it looks on TV, that it’ll be a sensory nightmare, that it’ll get too crowded for them to properly use their cane, that parties are not made to be accessible for anyone beyond your average frat boy.

But all of the frustration and the I told you so attitude fade away as soon as he answers the call.

“Please come get me,” is the only thing Toph says. Their words slur together just enough for Sokka to pick up on it, and he can hear muffled music and shouts in the background.

Sokka is on his feet before they’ve even finished their sentence. “Where are you? I’m on my way.” He puts the phone on speaker and sets it down so he can tug on his jacket and grab his keys.

“‘m outside. Not too far fr’m th’ house.”

Sokka nods, more to himself than as a response to Toph. His shoulder rolls as he goes to reach for his phone and he bites back a groan so Toph won’t hear it and think it’s directed at them. “Are you - y-you, you - safe?” A whistle follows the question before Sokka can suppress it.

(Toph knows his tics are worse when he’s stressed, and he doesn’t need them worrying about him right now.)

“Mm-hmm. …’m sorry.”

“You don’t have anything to be sorry for,” Sokka assures them as he picks up his phone successfully this time. He finds the address Toph sent him for pick up purposes, though he wasn't scheduled to pick them up for another few hours.

“You said I shouldn’ go. You were right. ‘nd now you have t’ come get me early, ‘nd…” their voice trails off.

“I’m not mad - mad. mad. mad. - at you. I’m just worried. I don’t - t-t-t - want you - t-t-t, t-t-t - getting hurt. And - mad, mad, mad, t-t-t - and I know you can t-- t-t-t - take care of yourself, but that doesn’t mean I’ll stop worrying about you, okay? You’re a little sibling to me, and it’s my job to worry about my little siblings.”

Sokka grabs a water bottle from the fridge before slipping his shoes on and hurrying down the stairs and outside of the building.

Toph doesn’t say anything until Sokka’s getting into his car, and it’s just a quiet, “Thank you.”

“I’m going to stay on the call with you until I get there, okay?”

“Okay. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

--

He finds Toph sitting in the grass, near the road but not close enough that they’re in any danger. The party has spilled out onto the front porch, but not close enough to Toph that Sokka can make out any of the conversation.

Sokka parks on the side of the road near where Toph is, not particularly caring if it’s a legal move or not, and then jumps out and hurries over to them.

Toph looks up like they can see him as he approaches. “Sokka?”

“Yeah, it’s me.”

“...Can you help me walk?”

(That’s not a good sign.)

“Of course.”

Carefully, Sokka helps Toph to their feet. One of their arms goes around Sokka while the other continues to tightly clutch their cane.

They promised Sokka they wouldn’t drink, but Sokka is pretty confident they didn’t keep their word. He isn’t going to harp on them for that right now, though - he can give them a lecture on underage drinking tomorrow if the hangover isn’t persuasive enough.

Sokka mumbles something under his breath - one of his tics, but he’s hardly paying enough attention to recognize which it is right now - and Toph apologizes again.

“You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m not upset. I’m glad you called me instead of just trying to tough it out.”

Toph sniffs, but doesn’t say anything else. Sokka helps them into the passenger seat, fastens their seatbelt for them, and then goes around to get in his own seat. He hands them the water bottle and waits in silence until they’re done drinking.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Toph shrugs. “Someone switched my drink. Not much to talk about.”

“Someone w--” he’s interrupted by a tongue click. “Someone did what?!”

“Song helped me get outside ‘nd call you. She couldn’t drive me home b’cause she was drinking ‘nd Jin wasn’t comin’ t’ get her ‘ntil late b’cause she was on a date.” They take another drink of water and then hand the bottle and lid to Sokka. “Can’t get it back on.”

Sokka screws the lid on and hands the bottle back to Toph. “You’re okay, though?”

Toph nods. “Didn’ notice though til it was too late. Thought it tasted kinda funny, but didn’t know why ‘ntil Song tried it ‘nd said it tasted like there was tequila in it.”

Sokka blinks. “How did you not notice that?”

“Someone dared me to drink a… lemonade-coke-fruit punch-milk mix.”

“...Okay.” Sokka decides he’s not going to question that one. It sounds very much like a Toph thing to take someone up on that dare and fully follow through with it. “I’m going to take you to my apartment for the night, but do you want me to get you food on the way home?”

Toph hesitates, and then nods. “Can you get fries?”

“Yeah, I’ll get you some fries.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course.” Sokka shifts into drive and slowly begins to drive away, making sure there are no party stragglers in his path.

“Sokka?” Toph speaks up again after a few moments of silence.

“Hm?”

“I’m glad I get to be like your little sibling.”

(Sokka absolutely does not have to blink back tears at that.)

“I’m glad I get to be like your brother.”

#i promise i am still working my way through these prompts #i'm hoping to do at least one more today but who knows if that'll actually happen or not skhdfj #sokka #toph #toph beifong #atla #nonbinary toph #sokka with tourette’s #ask game #veeaziel #alcohol tw #grace's writing tag

[dionysusbisexual]

torture + geraskier

I really hope you like it, I am not the best at writing straight up  whump n torture scenes, though it’s brief and focuses more on Jaskier getting better.

Find it on ao3

____

Jaskier sat in the cold, desolate cell, beaten and bloodied and half gone. He had been captured by Nilfgaard in one of his heart broken, drunk stupers and ever since dragged through hell, they had tried to rip his mind open, tear it apart, but his magic prevented the mage assigned to ruin him to gain access to any of his memories --and barely any of his thoughts in general-- that may endanger Geralt. When that didn’t work they had taken to different tactics, a deep scar across his back, hand bruises on his neck, his fingers cut with bones broken along with too many other wounds to count, covered in his own blood. He was leaning against the wall panting, closer to death than he ever had been when he heard the guards approaching. “Look at the little songbird, trapped and mute, unable to escape.” He said, his voice condescending and mocking. Jaskier rolled his eyes but didn’t speak. He found it wasn’t worth it. By sheer luck -- for them-- they had put Jaskier in partly iron shackles, weakening him significantly. “Nothing to say?” Jaskier didn’t react. The guard didn’t seem like this, hitting hard and knocking him over. “You know… This could aaaall end if you just told us where the Witcher is” the guard said crouching down in front of Jaskier. The bard simply spat blood in his face before saying “Probably fucking your mother.” not his best line but, well, cold you really blame him? The guard growled before pulling Jaskier by his hair and throwing him against a wall. He started  to stalk towards Jaskier as he lost consciousness, his last thoughts quite simple. At least he had granted Geralt his blessing.

The last thing he felt was a punch to the stomach and the last thing he heard was the squelch of a sword through a throat.

___

Geralt was carrying Jaskier, desperately trying to wake him up, while not jostling him too much, he made it to where Yennefer was, disposing the last of the guards before opening a portal, Geralt took a deep breath and ran through it, practically sprinting towards Triss to save hi- the bard… He has lost the privilege of calling him his years ago.

They quickly set Jaskier down on the table and Triss got to healing him slowly. Geralt was a mess, had been a mess ever since the mountain. At first he had thought it was because of Yennefer but after finding her, after missing the noise, after growing to despise the silence. He knew he had missed, needed, Jaskier.  He has tried to track down Jaskier, tried for three years to no avail until a rumor spread tha a the great Bard, Jaskier, had been kidnapped. And Geralt knew in that moment what had happened and blamed himself. It was not a short healing process, with all the physical damage done, it had taken Jaskier three days to wake up. Three days that Geralt spent by his side, refusing to leave the room to eat, which led Eskel to bringing up his lunch and staring at his brother, usually giving him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, it led to Lambert not teasing him and Ciri spending time with her new father figure in Jaskiers room, always worried because he had gone completely non verbal. Geralt eventually did fall asleep, something had avoided doing by sharpening his sword and changing Jaskiers bandages. He fell asleep holding Jaskiers unbroken hand softly.

__

Jaskier awoke to a weight on his uninjured hand, panicked at first until he saw Geralt holding it, fast asleep and looking peaceful, pure confusion bubbling inside him until it was joined by anger and hurt. This seemed to have woken up Geralt, whose first instinct was to hold Jaskiers hand tighter until he realized he was the cause of that smell. He stared at Jaskier, unable to form words, pre relief that Jaskier was awake before noticing the expression on Jaskiers face.

Jaskier snatched his hand away and tried to move away from him on the bed only to be met with pain.

“Please, please don’t move.”

Jaskier looked at him with confusion, Geralt never said please. He was still glaring at Geralt, though, distrustful and weary. After weeks of what he had gone through he wasn’t feeling particularly kind.

“Jaskier” Geralt rasped out. “The mount-”

“Leave it. I’ll be out of your hair when I’m healed. Give you your life's one blessing.” Geralt flinched and pursed his lips. “Get out of my room.” Geralt hesitated, wanting to say something before leaving.

Jaskier lied there, trying his best not to cry when a sorceress and Yennefer entered the room, seemingly to check on him. He tried his best not to be too hostile to Yennefer, he had a feeling she and the other woman saved his life. “Jaskier.”

He didn’t respond, she sighed.

The other mage approached him and gave him a warm smile, she seemed much kinder . She was frankly beautiful, maybe if he was younger and less… Exhausted he might have even tried to woo her. “Hello, my name is Triss, I’m glad to see you finally awake, we were worried that I lost you for a second there. He tried to give her his best smile “Jaskier, but you probably knew that. How long till I can move.” Triss’s smile dropped a little. “I’m afraid you’re going to be bed ridden for a few more days. He frowned. “Ahh, I see. Well, give me the sinopses, doc, will I ever play again?” he said, a bit dramatically. He felt his hand nearly healed and along with his own magic he knew he’d be fine, but reassurance was never bad.

She huffed, “You’ll be fine. You won't play for another week though, I suggest staying here until you can.” “It would be a waste if we spent so much time just for you to ruin it, Bard.”

Jaskier glared at Yennefer but conceded. “In fact… You should stay with us.” Triss said softly. At that Jaskier let out a bitter laugh. “I would rather not. I’ll head back to Oxenfurt, put on a good glamour like I should have in the first place.” Triss frowned. “I’m afraid that that isn’t possible… The safest place is here, in Kaer Morhen.” Jaskier grit his teeth and decided not to argue for the time being, too exhausted to protest.

___

The next few days went as the following, one of Geralt's brothers would come up, talk to Jaskier and get him to eat. Later on Ciri would come in and talk to him, having someone from back home to provide her comfort, him being relieved she made it out alive.

Once he got out of bed… Geralt would give him food, make sure he didn’t strain himself and be a general frustration. Jaskiers hurt over the mountain warring with the love he still had, with the affection brought through Geralt's actions.

He knew what the others were doing, trying to get him to see Geralt was trying to change, but Jaskier kept convincing himself it wasn’t so ntil it reached a boiling point.

“Stop.” His voice was firm, expression stormy. Geralt was currently serving him food, both haven woken up at night from their own, cruel nightmares. Geralt paused before turning to Jaskier. “Jaskier,”

“No. You don’t get to… Fucking take care of me and try to act like nothing happened. I don’t need your fucking pity and I don’t need your family participating in whatever fucking game it is you’re playing.”

“Julek, it isn’t-”

“Don’t you dare fucking call me that! How dare you, how dare you push me away for years and deny our friendship, how dare you tell me I’m the worst thing that happened to you and then-and then save me and act like it never- like you haven’t shattered my heart into a million pieces you absolute bastard!” He was crying at this point, shaking before falling into the chair behind him. Geralt had nothing to say, pausing before he slowly walked towards Jaskier and kneeled before him.

“Jaskier… I- hm. The words I said on the mountain” Jaskier flinched “I didn’t mean them I- Yennefer was gone and it was my fault and you were there and I-I wanted to hurt someone, I wanted to be alone and to push you away. I was wrong, I was so wrong.” he took a deep breath “You’re… You’re my life's blessing, you’re the good choice I’ve made. I’m so sorry. Please, let me prove to you that I’ve changed, that I can treat you better. That… I want to be kinder. I… I am a selfish man, I do not deserve your forgiveness but I want to stay by your side.” Jaskier stared at the man in front of him, sincerity in his voice before taking a deep breath. “And if I don’t want you to prove it? If I want to leave?”

Geralt grimaced “Then I will let you leave.” Jaskier reached out and cupped his cheek.

“I’m still mad but I forgive you. I think I forgave you a while ago.” Geralt gave the smallest smile “But I can’t… I-I love you Geralt. I can’t be by your side while you and Yennefer play h-”

“Yennefer and I aren’t together. She and Triss are in love and I. Hm. I love you too.” he said the last part softly, as if afraid that Jaskier would take back his words with his admission.

Jaskier looked at him shocked before  giving him a watery smile “Then I will stay by your side… But I can’t. I need time, I want to take it slow.” Geralt nodded “I will wait. I will make it up to you”

Jaskier pulled Geralt up “Well, you can start with a kiss.”

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #whump #febuwhump #hope you like it!! #I am half alseep know that #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #answered #Anonymous #torture scene #violence #briefly #ask to tag #long post

[emotional-blender]

one. untitled. michael clifford.

a/n: 1 of 25 random blurbs with a splash of holiday, for the holidays. please excuse the typos. please let me know if you want a tag the next time i post, i have a tag list in my google docs which i can’t see well enough to get at right now, so if you’re on that, please let me know again and i’ll  note it somewhere i can access easier. anyway, this is pretty random but i thought the idea was cute. 

---

she hadn't expected the intensity of his eyes.

"hiii," her voice came out in it's usual sing song way, the same greeting that left her mouth coutnless times before as she sat at her computer and slid on her headset. and then, that was all she managed to say, a nervous laugh following as her eyes met his. they stopped her in her tracks.

she hadn't expected the intensity of his eyes and for a moment, she swore her heart had stopped full, lungs refusing to either expand or deflate, keeping every cell in her body still exactly where it was.

and then he opened his mouth. the familiar voice of a months long friendship forged over mutual friends and different video games tumbling past his lips. his eyes might have been intense, but the familiarity of his voice and the sound of his own awkward laughter brought her back to a comfortable place.

"hey you," he greeted her and instead of lifting his hand to return the wave she'd greeted him with, his arms spread open and enveloped her body onto his own, holding her there for a moment - not long enough - before letting go.

"was the flight okay?" he asked, stepping back from her as the corners of his lips tugged up into a smile.

"oh, yeah," she answered, reaching up to shift her backpack on her shoulders. "screaming baby, some old lady tried to get fresh as fuck during turbulence. it was perfect,"

the sound of his familar laughter wrapped her up almost as good as his arms just had and she smiled brightly in response, a playuful look in her eyes as she continued to take in the physical presence of the boy - man - in front of her. it was overwhelming in the best way. the swirling of nerves in her stomach had been their very worst in the moments she was walking toward him. this was a mistake. he was going to think she was too nerdy. she wouldn't be what he expected her to be. but then he spoke and the nerves settled. this was sjust michael. tje same pweaon she talked to for hours on end from the comfort of her apartment; the person she cackled loudly with over stupid youtubes; the person she yelled at in a panic when he didn't heal her fast enough.

"dude, like you didn't try to hold her hand during the rough part," he teased in the same sarcastic tone he always teased her in, returning the same smirk she'd given him a second ago. she couldn't help but roll  her eyes, shaking her head and letting her own laughter pour out of her. it was as easy as it always was to fall peacefully into a place of comfort.

"hey, i got you something," she spolke once they were at the car, her hands bumbling a little at the zips on her backpack, rooting around in the black canvas bag for a few moments u ntil she came up with what she was looking for. triumph, even for the simple task, splashed across her face for a moment.

"i know it's still weeks away, but i figure i won't be here for christmas, so," she laughed a little, waving around a pair of shoelaces toward his face, the triforce logo from the legend of zelda covering them in random places. "saw em in some store and thought of you," she offered a short explanation, though it wasn't needed.

his face lit up.

"dude," he took a few steps back to her on her side of the car, a hand reaching for the shoelaces with his eyes wide with excitement as if they were a magic lamp with a genie; as if they'd make hsi world better. the truth of it was, she made his world better, even when she was thousands of miles away.

he didn't even think about it as he took the shoelaces from her, staring at them for a moment and then letting his arms envelop her again, pulling her in and planting his lips onto hers. it was quick and he pulled away with a grin, leaving her standing there with a shocked look on her face as she looked back into his eyes.

she hadn't expected the intensity of his eyes. or the way his short, barely there kiss would bring her world to a screeching halt. it took her a moment to recover, a breath of laughter leaving her as she reached out and pulled him back to her, going in for kiss number two so shecould properly enjoy it this time. it was barely longer than the first before she let him go, moving to hop into the passenger seat of the car.

the same laughter they had surrounded themselves with for months rang out into the air, blanketing them in the safety they'd always known as he moved around to his side of the car, getting in and bucking his seatbelt so they could figure out what other adventures awaited them in the next three days.

#michael clifford #5sos #michael clifford blurb #michael clifford imagine #5sos bluirb #5sos imagine #shans advent 2020 #my writing

[tailah-haderson-gilbert]

Day 2/31 of writing every day.

Well hello! 

I haven’t giving up yet but I did think about it. 

I got to 230 words and hit a bit of a wall, but I remember that my goal wasn’t to write a novel, but just write. anything. anything that popped up in my head I went with. so that may mean that this all sucks, but I managed to write, and thats all I care about. 

so today’s is less creative and more just thoughts and points that kinda popped into my head. I don’t mean to offend or attack anyone. and if it does any of those things I'm deeply sorry. I was just writing. 

now let's get on with it!!

P.S. I are not editing these, so so sorry if there are mistakes.

I wrote 569 words today.

Cancer sucks

Can you even hear that? All the pain and suffering, all the hurt that you cause. Not once have you ever stopped to look back at the carnage you leave in your wake. Could you for once just stop. Stop all the pain and death. Endless. Is what everyone says. Pointless. Everyone sighs. Painfull is what it is. Reaching high and low, far and wide.

Sending people to early graves, is all fun and games Until we start fighting back. With our guns ablazing, we will Come for you. Taking down your army, and Killing you slowly for all the lives you’ve taken. For there are Survivors who are willing to continue to fight!

Dance is life

Don’t underestimate dance, for it has the power to say things that words are unable too. Art isn’t just something pretty to look at, it tells stories from centuries ago as if the person were still here. Narration paints us a picture when there is no other form. Creating doesn’t ‘waste’ time if you love what you do, if it has meaning to you. Everything means something even if you’re not searching for it. Instant regret bloomed in her stomach as she landed the jump, She couldn’t believe why something she practiced a thousand times went wrong the one time she needed it to be perfect. The thunder of applause brought her back to the moment reminding her of the fact that the whole routine was perfect and the only people who knew something went wrong aren’t important as the warmth filling her body right now. Living without creating, is not thriving only surviving. If one mistake is to keep us down then we would be rolling in the mud with pigs, dying by the common cold and being utterly naked. Freedom comes from defyance, and the only way to do that is to create beautiful pieces and show them to the world. To spread this message and make the world shine. Everyone should be allowed to shine.

If i had a dollar for every….

This is a common statement/ sentence said when something happens a lot, but if we all were honest we wouldn't get over $100. That being said, if you had a superpower that let you know things before they happened. Well that’d just be cheating. But hey you’d be rich if you were actually getting a dollar every time you predicted and/or guessed.

Although, if i had a dollar every time i said this, well, i’d be $1 richer than i am now.

If you could control one thing in the world right now, most people would pick obvious things like health, money, power. But you have to think deeper than that, all three of those things would make people jobless and society collapse. So now think, what’s something that you could control at this very moment that would improve the world and keep the earth spinning??

Happiness? Having so many people genuinely happy would be a dream.

People's choice in words? Now this would get difficult, to have people speak their minds without tearing others down, to have no insults to certain groups of people, to know that walking alone at night isn’t going to affect your life.

Or maybe it’s people’s thoughts instead of words, stop the problem at the root.

But we can’t control anything right now, we can only pray and inspire others to do good.

thanks for reading, see you tomorrow.

Day 1 - Day 3

#my500words #creative writing #dance #cancer #if I had a dollar… #rhetorical question #tailahs31daychallenge

[that-one-girl-who-writes]

A Series of Unfortunate Events.

The Vile Village.

The book begins with the Baudelaires in Mr. Poe’s office, awaiting a new guardian. Mr. Poe gives a brochure to the Baudelaire orphans about a new program allowing an entire village to serve as guardian, based on the saying ‘It takes a village to raise a child.’

The children choose V.F.D.

V.F.D was an abbreviation to which the Quagmire’s referred to but before they could explain further during their kidnap by Count Olaf and his theater group. The children depart for the unknown V.F.D. by bus, and after a long, hot and dusty walk from the bus stop, they reach the town of V.F.D. which is filled with crows.

They become acquainted with the Council of Elders, who proclaims that the children will do all the chores for the entire village, but they will be living with Hector. A handyman, who takes them to his home, where he shows them the house, the barn, and the Nevermore Tree, where all the crows would come to roost at night.

The Baudelaires learn that V.F.D. stands for the Village of Fowl Devotees. Hector then shows the Baudelaires the following couplet, which he says was found at the base of Nevermore Tree:

For sapphires, we are held in here,

Only you can end our fear.

The Baudelaires discover that Hector has been breaking the voluminous list of strict and unfair town rules by keeping a secret library and working on a hot-air mobile home in his barn so that he can sail away forever. The Baudelaire’s tell Hector how Isadora might be sending them clues through the poems. They also discover a new couplet under the tree, though they’ve kept the tree under surveillance the whole night, which reads:

Until dawn comes we cannot speak,

No words can come from this sad beak.

Three members of the Council of Elders report that Count Olaf has been ‘captured’, and the Baudelaires are to report immediately to the Town Hall. The Baudelaires though discover that Count Olaf was not captured, but instead, a man named Jacques Snicket, who just so happens to share the same surname as the author, was. 

It was because Jacques also had a unibrow and a tattoo of an eye on his ankle. The children insist he is not Count Olaf, but the townspeople ignore them.

The next day Jacques was to be wrongfully burned at the stake so that night the orphans construct a plan that Sunny would keep watch at Nevermore Tree to see where the poems are coming from, Klaus searches the rules of V.F.D. for something to help Jacques out of trouble and Violet helps finish Hector’s hot-air balloon device, for it will be a useful escape device just in case if Count Olaf came after them.

Violet fixes the hot air balloon and Klaus discovers that a rule allows the accused to make a speech explaining himself. If a few people say something, mob psychology can make everyone demand the same thing and thus they can suggest that Jacques be freed. Sunny discovers that the crows are somehow delivering the couplets, and finds a new one:

The first thing you read contains the clue,

An initial way to speak to you.

When the children run to the uptown jail where Jacques is being held, they learn that he is dead. V.F.D.’s police officer, Luciana, announces that Jacques, as Count Olaf, has been murdered in the night, and Olaf, masquerading as Detective Dupin, accuses the Baudelaires of murdering ‘Count Olaf.’

He claims a hair ribbon belonging to Violet and a lens from Klaus’s glasses were found on the scene, and Sunny’s teeth marks are on the body. Of course, the evidence was false but the people ignore the fact that the orphans had solid alibis and they are locked up inside the Deluxe Cell in the prison, prior to being burnt at the stake the following day for breaking the town rules.

Olaf, abandoning his Dupin disguise, tells them that one of them will make a great escape before the burning, as one child is needed alive to inherit the family fortune, and he leaves them to decide who will survive.

While they are locked up, Klaus realizes that it is his 13th birthday before Officer Luciana enters the cell, grudgingly brings them water and bread as that is one of the many rules governing the village.

But Violet is able to use the bread and water to allow them to escape. By pouring the pitcher of water repeatedly down a wooden bench onto the wall to soften the mortar, and then squeezing the water out of the bread where it had collected at the bottom of the wall. This process, repeated all through the day, evening and following morning slowly starts to yield results by weakening the thick brick walls of the prison cell

At daybreak, Hector comes to the window and tells them that if they manage to break out, he has the hot-air balloon ready. He also gives them the daily couplet:

Inside these letters, the eye will see,

Nearby are your friends and V.F.D

They line up all the couplets and read it all once more, using the sixth line, “An initial way to speak to you”, to read the first initial of each line:

For sapphires, we are held in here.

Only you can end our fear.

Until dawn comes we cannot speak.

No words can come from this sad beak.

The first thing you read contains the clue.

An initial way to speak to you.

Inside these letters, the eye will see.

Nearby are your friends and V.F.D.

The Baudelaires figure out the sapphires refer to the Quagmires’ fortune. The Quagmire's way of ‘speaking’ to the Baudelaire orphans is not V.F.D. but the first letter in each verse, which spells out FOUNTAIN so they rush to Fowl Fountain but can't do anything.

They begin falling and Sunny inadvertently presses a secret button in the eye of the crow, which opens the beak, revealing the damp Quagmires inside. They flee the pitchfork-carrying mob and run for the outskirts of town. As they go, the Quagmires explain that Count Olaf locked them in the tower of his house. Then he had his associates build the fountain and imprisoned the Quagmires.

The Quagmires attached a couplet to the crows’ feet every morning, which fell off in the Nevermore Tree when the paper was dry. They tell the Baudelaires that the man who died was Jacques Snicket, but the mob catches sight of them and they have to continue to run. They reach the outskirts of town and Hector arrives in his hot-air mobile home.

He throws down a rope ladder and the Quagmires start to climb up to get inside. Officer Luciana shoots at the rope ladder with a harpoon gun, breaking the rope whilst the Baudelaires are still climbing and preventing them from continuing - they jump down to earth, saying good-bye to the Quagmires who then throw their notebooks down to the orphans so they can read their research. 

Unfortunately, Officer Luciana’s final harpoon pierces the books, destroying and scattering many of the pages, as the hot-air mobile home heads towards the horizon. The book ends with Olaf and Officer Luciana, who removes her helmet and reveals herself to be Esmé Squalor, escape by motorcycle, and the Baudelaires fleeing the village on foot.

Check out the next summary here: The Hostile Hospital.

#asoue #summaries #booklr #booklover #booksmart #a series of unfortunate events

[vrake]

@dvineglory​ cont.

     she’s angry at him  ,  angry that he had been completely reckless to almost get them both killed on a self made mission to figure out what these rumors about Roanoke being revived again meant  .  he had jumped the gun on a meeting  ,  thinking that maybe the element of surprise would be the best  ,  but she couldn’t help but wonder if there was another motive for the way that he had been acting  .  

     Cassandra  .  

    Narcissa isn’t normally jealous  ,  completely reserved in the way that she had felt  &  how others had felt about her  .  but when it came to this witch  ,  to his first love she can’t help but feel a pit in her stomach start to form  &  this was even when she was dead  .  afraid that his memory of her would overpower the love that he could feel for her  ,  or the love she could feel for him  .  but the risk of her being alive  &  reuniting with him made her sick to her stomach  .  but she doesn’t allow it to show  ,  instead she is using anger  &  the fact that they could’ve lost all leads as a sort of catalyst for these insecurities  .

    hands push him against the wall  ,  knowing it wouldn’t hurt him  ,  but she’s angry  &  she wants to show it  ,  but instead of shoving him again her fingers are balled up in his shirt  &  she’s watching him  .  she’s studying his features  &  taking in how he is responding to her  &  for a brief moment she is sure that he can see the vulnerability in her eyes  ,  the fear  ,  the hurt  .  the longing  .  lips press against his in a bruising kiss  ,  eyelashes splayed along pale skin  ,  praying for the tears to stay behind them  &  to not betray her in rolling down her cheeks at the fear that he will leave her yet again  .  but her wishful thinking isn’t enough  ,  feeling hot tears spring from her eyes as her kiss deepens but it softens at the same time  ,  parting them against his  ,  but not continuing it  .  

    ‘  i’m sorry i can never be Cassandra  .  if she’s back  ,  please tell me if you plan on leaving  ---  don’t just leave  .  ‘

 News like these... they always come a bit as a surprise. They reach you quietly and crawl up your skin through the sole of your shoe and the material of your pants. They slide up your torso and slip in through your skin to take a hold of your heart. He had not been prepared to hear the words. And the moment the name of the old town that once housed the love of his life. His first love   ---and his salvation---   the memory of Cassandra alone had been enough to strip him of his logic and turn him into an irrational mess. 

 The kind of mess he hadn’t been in a long time   ( driven completely by his emotions and the swelling on his chest. The itch beneath his skin that kept vibrating throughout his body, sending jolts of electricity to every inch of his body )   Sebastian was suddenly transported to years worth of a lifetime to the moment Cassandra had been between his arms and he had turned for the first time his emotions on to allow himself to love her back. To embrace the warmth of the woman who gave her life for him. Even after waking up from being on a box, desiccated and asleep, hearing of her death brought him nothing but pain and he had turned his emotions back off, swearing to never turned them back on.

Until her.

 The push had been unexpected and his back had crashed against the wall with a loud thud that sounded on his ears so loud he couldn’t hear his own thoughts. And her eyes... her eyes are a sea of emotions that he drowns in the moment they connect   ( he can see them, tear them apart so clearly, the anger, the fear, the frustration... the hurt   ---and he curses himself once more, knowing nothing more than to cause pain )   he kisses her with as much fire and decision, determined to convey just how sorry he is. For hurting her, for making her doubt. He acted on impulses more than he cares to understand. His hands reach up to cradle her face between his fingers, pressing against her skin and treading through her hair.

 He looks at her through lidded eyes, the smell of her perfume slipping in through his nose and invading his senses and suddenly all he knows is her     “  I don’t ----”     he shakes his head lightly, his nose brushing against hers     “ I don’t need you to be her    ---i’m not leaving... i’m not leaving you narcissa.”     not again.

#dvineglory #[- I'm a vampire. Creature of the Night - Sebastian

[afandomroom]

From the Shadows- Part 2

Marion stood in the court yard, bo-staff in his hands. He was in a fighting stance, going through basic defense and offense motions, calling each step out loud. Around him, the three trainees stood in their own stances, copying his movements.

“One!” Marion stepped forward, striking his staff down upon an invisible enemy. The students copied. “Two!” Marion stepped back, raising his staff to protect his face. Again, he was copied. This continued for another hour, with Marion displaying various offensive and defensive attacks, and the trainees following. “Alright,” The grey ninja turned towards the kids, resting his bo-staff on his shoulders. He looked at the trainees, they looked tired. “Let's call a break-“He was cut off by cheers from Jaxon and Aurora, with Damian simply rolling his eyes and snapping at them. “Marion wasn’t finished, genius’s” Jaxon turned to glare at Damian, “Hey- Don’t be a jerk to Aurora” “She wasn’t that bothered” “Just ‘cause you can read minds, doesn’t mean y’know how people feel, brainiac” “I-I really…wasn’t that bothered Jaxon…” Aurora shuffled her voice quiet. The boys didn’t hear her, continuing their bickering. Marion sighed, stepping over to Aurora and gently taking her training staff. “I’ll handle the boys Aurora. You go get some water and take a break. Go to the dojo in a couple hours for element training, ‘k?” Aurora nodded, mumbling a “yes sir” while looking down. She quickly scurried off to the kitchen to get some water. Marion frowned slightly as he watched strawberry haired girl leave. He hoped she would be willing to come out of her shell some day. Shaking his head, the red head turned towards the still-arguing boys, finding that they had moved from yelling to striking each other with their training staffs. Dropping Aurora training staff, Marion lifted his bo-staff from his shoulders and slammed it down, pinning Jaxon and Damian’s staffs to the ground. Both boys turned to look at him with wide eyes. “Sorry guys,” Marion looked at each of them with a kind smile, “Can’t have you two beating each other up with the training staffs. Would you mind dropping them?” Turning to blink at each other, Jaxon and Damian dropped their weapons, taking a step back. Marion sighed, scooping the staffs up. “Thank you…..you guys can’t keep fighting, you know. Whether you like it or not, you’ll be a team someday, and you can’t risk an argument getting in the way of something important” The young ninja sighed, looking at the two boys. Based on the glares they were shooting at each other, they weren’t going to be getting along anytime soon. “Alright, both of you go get some water with Aurora and apologize to her. Your fighting seems to have upset her a bit. Afterwards, I want you two to meet me out here. Got it?” “Wh- but Aurora got a break!” Jaxon almost looked offended, which earned him an eye roll from Damian. “Aurora didn’t get into an argument that resulted in a fight, while under instructions not to use your bo-staffs for actual fighting, I might add” Marion gently ruffled Jaxon’s hair, before picking up the bo-staffs and leaving to set them away. As he placed the staffs into the training cabinet, he heard a heavy set of footsteps come behind him and lean on the door frame. Calvin Marion turned to smile at his friend, “‘Sup Cal?” Calvin huffed, gaze meeting Marion’s “Aurora is talkin’ t’ Zoe, ‘pparently she broke down after another argument?” Marion let out an exasperated sigh, rubbing the back of his neck, “Yeah…yeah, the boys got into another fight while training. Aurora tried to stop ‘em and they wouldn’t listen, again…” He trailed off, leaning against the cabinet and crossing his arms. “I dunno what we’re gonna do with those two…” There were several beats of silence as the young men thought on this. Suddenly, a thought hit Calvin, as a smirk grew on his face. Marion raised a brow, “What?” “Y’know those  ‘get-along-shirt ‘ memes?” Marion blinked, wondering where the dark haired man was going with this. “Yeeaahh?” Calvin stood from leaning, his smirk growing, “There’s a spell that’ll link their hands t’gether, kiddos ‘ll be stuck ‘ntil they learn some teamwork” Marion’s face broke into a grin as he processed this. “You, Cal, are an evil genius” “Hey now” the dark eyed man raised his hands with a laugh, “We swore off evil stuff, remember?” ____________________________________________________________________________________ A cool breeze caused various chains to rattle and broken boards to creak. Ravens cawed, trumpets for the queen who walked through her empire, her elegant kimono trailing behind. She entered an abandoned wagon, one once used by puppeteers of old. Some wooden puppets lay about, marionettes used to get a story across. In the very back, the queen saw her two subjects- A woman clothed in fortune teller wraps and a cloaked man. A thin smile appeared as the queen spoke. “The time has come, for us to strike. Aerial, “She looked to the cloaked figure, “Provide us with a distraction. Keep ‘Shadow Squad’ busy” Her smile grew, evil in nature as she spoke, “Ms. Fortune and I will grab the bait” “Dear little Marionette will be ours”

#Ninjago #ninjago ocs #oc story #ninjago oc srory

[drowning-in-dennor]

could you please do 16 with estfin uwu

  Taps on his shoulder, quick and urgent, rouse Tino from sleep. He rolls over, yawning as he looks for the source of his awakening. "What?"

  "Over here."

  His eyes open fully and he sees Eduard, still in his nightclothes, now deciding to shake his shoulder. "What time is it?"

  "Doesn't matter." Eduard gestures excitedly to nothing in particular. "I just realised something really, really, cool, and you need to hear this."

  "Huh?" Tino slurs incoherently, trying to adjust his vision to the dim light of Eduard's bedside lamp. "Ed, can't this wait 'ntil later? I wanna sleep."

  Eduard huffs and prods at his side. "Come on, this won't take long. Just listen closely and later we can go back to sleep. So, you know how soap cleans stuff, right?"

  "Mm."

  "And toothpaste cleans teeth?"

  Tino squints at the ceiling as though it has personally offended him. "Joo."

  "So does that make toothpaste teeth soap?"

  He finally manages to glance at the clock, and it tells him that it's half past two in the morning. "Why are you even awake right now?"

  "Because I made this brilliant realisation!" Eduard smiles down at Tino. "It's amazing, right?"

  Feeling himself about to fall asleep again, Tino manages, "did you drink vodka after dinner with Raivis and Tolys yesterday?"

  "I don't think so." Eduard tilts his head. "I think Raivis and I had some kvass, though. Does that count?"

  So that's why. He turns over, patting the empty half of the bed. "Go back to sleep, Ed. I think you're having a hangover."

  "I'm just fine!" Eduard protests.

  "No, you're not." Tino sits up again and switches off their desk lamp. "Come on, we can cuddle while the alcohol leaves your system."

  Still trying to deny his drunkenness, Eduard crawls into bed and pulls Tino into his arms.

(Word count: 304)

[alayne-stonecoldfox]

I always assumed Bloodraven WAS the three eyed crow, one and the same, but...maybe not?

ok I only got 5 notes on that three eyed crow, Bloodraven and Bran post and nobody asked for this, but here she goes ladies

so, Bran is visited in his dreams from a Three eyed crow. Not a raven, thats what they call it in the show, but in the books it’s only ever referred to as a crow.

The three eyed crow appears in Brans dreams, and also we’re told by Jojen that he has had crow dreams as well. The crow features in some of brans more disconcerting dreams, conversing with him, pecking at his ‘third eye’ and encouraging him to ‘fly’. The crow apparently told Jojen to bring Bran north. They meet Coldhands. Coldhands tells them he’s going to take them to ‘the last greenseer’

The last greenseer is Bloodraven/Brydnen Rivers.

Now I’m going to talk about Bloodravens associations and titles. 

He’s a Targ bastard, but his mother was a Blackwood, who’s house sigil is of a weirwood and ravens surrounding it

He was born with a wine stain birth mark covering one half of his face, which was said to be in the vague shape of a raven and THIS is where he was said to have been given his moniker ‘Lord Bloodraven’, of course alongside his publicly known mother and her sigil

he lost an eye in the first Blackfyre rebellion , and was said to be a sorcerer and a spy master in his time at court, earning him the reputation of seeing ‘with a thousand eyes and one’ (not three eyes)

he was sent to the wall later in life and took the black, and later being elected Lord Commander of the Nights Watch. A crow, as they call them.

So, so far, the ONLY association with crows that Bloodraven has is that he was a Nightswatch men.

But alayne-stonecoldfox, the dreams! Bloodraven is the crow in brans dreams!

BUT IS HE? I can’t find confirmation! The harder I look for it, the less sure I am. I had always just safely assumed Bloodraven WAS the three eyed crow. Never questioned he wasn’t. It made enough sense, until you push it.

When Bran and co meet Coldhands, the first thing they ask is //

"Who sent you? Who is this three-eyed crow?" "A friend. Dreamer, wizard, call him what you will. The last greenseer."

and that seems enough doesn’t it, it’s definitely what made me as a reader go oh ok so this means the three eyed crow and Bloodraven are one and the same, here we are, but when this is the closest I can actually find to an answer it starts to seem a bit vague. It’s not a yes, it’s a ‘call him what you want’. The children of the forrest go on to say, when pressed again wether this IS the three eyed crow //

"The three-eyed crow?" asked Meera. "The greenseer." And with that she was off, and they had no choice but to follow. 

So...that’s not a yes.

and then Bran actually meets Bloodraven himself. All wrapped up in his weirwood tree.

“Are you the three-eyed crow?” Bran heard himself say…… “A … crow?” The pale lord’s voice was dry.His lips moved slowly, as if they had forgotten how to form words. “Once, aye. Black of garb and black of blood.” The clothes he wore were rotten and faded, spotted with moss and eaten through with worms, but once they had been black.

Bloodraven seems...confused? At the question and the name? For someones who would have been visiting Bran in his dreams for months now, conversing with him even, would he not be like oh aye that be me. But no. instead he seems to only. ONLY. Think of his association with the Nights Watch.

So far, out of the children of the forrest, Coldhands and Bloodraven himself, have never reffered to a ‘three eyed crow’ at all. The only people who know about this crow are Bran and Jojen. As readers we see their take on it, they have assumed the three eyed crow is Bloodraven, but are they correct?

Now back to the dreams. bloodraven DOES tell Bran he has been observing him. 

"Now you will understand why I could not come to you … except in dreams. I have watched you for a long time, watched you with a thousand eyes and one."

This is where I think we’ve all assumed Bloodraven is the three eyed crow, because just as the crow has been watching him, so has bloodraven, but I think Bloodraven is ACTUALLY watching Bran through the weirwood tree’s. Remember, Bloodravens sigil is of a weirwood tree and he is currently embedded in one of these trees.

"I dream of a tree sometimes. A weirwood, like the one in the godswood. It calls to me. The wolf dreams are better.

He’s dreamed of the tree multiple times, but we’re told so much more about these crow dreams. Are both sets of dreams sent by the same person, Bloodraven? Or what if the weirwood dreams, the wolf dreams, and the three eyed crow dreams are seperate things? The weirwood dreams is Bloodraven reaching Bran, the wolf dreams are Bran and his natural warging ability, and the three eyed crow is some other entity?

Interestingly, we can actually see through Melisandre what Bloodraven actually appears as in visions, when Mel looks in her fire.

A wooden face, corpse white. Was this the enemy? A thousand red eyes floated in the rising flames. He sees me. Beside him, a boy with a wolf's face threw back his head and howled."

This is pretty indicative of Bloodraven and Bran, but theres no crow imagery or three eye imagery, but that of a weirwood and his thousand eyes.

On this night he dreamed of the weirwood. It was looking at him with its deep red eyes, calling to him with its twisted wooden mouth, and from its pale branches the three-eyed crow came flapping, pecking at his face and crying his name in a voice as sharp as swords.

This line about a particular dream can be seen in a new way now if I’ve not completely lost you. The tree and the crow are not associated with eachother, the tree is Bloodraven trying to reach Bran, and the three eyed crow is a seperare entity, interacting with him in a more direct, and honestly scary, way. The tree dreams bore bran. The crow dreams scare Bran.

SO. I’ve probably made a hash of this. Trying to explain this or at least look into this. Theres a good reddit write up here someones made that even involved Euron. Another one here that has a tonne of the actual dreams written up all together. And idk, if any Bran or Bloodraven stans are out there and this is old hat, THE popular theory, completely debunked or a source of mad discourse, reply and tell me, I want to know what is UP with this.

#bran stark #bloodraven #brynden rivers #asoiaf #meta

[lethe-rpg]

It never made much sense - how his family demanded so much, felt entitled to so much, but thought so little of him. His parents, his half-siblings, had always looked at him with doubt. At best. At worst, venom, or a sort of thinly-veiled regret. Or pity. To call him a love-child was insulting. A hubris-child, maybe. Not that his father didn’t love his mother, a second wife, a witch, marrying into South Africa’s most notorious clan of shapeshifters. Oh, no, they loved each other plenty. In the way that the ambitious loved anything that felt like a step up. As for him? Perhaps they’d thought their child would simply be better than your average hybrid, because they were - to their own minds, anyway - better than your average… anyone. But Ricus arrived small and weak, in all the ways the van Delouwes  just assumed he shouldn’t be. He didn’t take to magic. Any attempt left him cringing, riddled with aches and pains. Shifting, on the other hand, came too easy. He started early, abruptly. Not that he meant to do it. Why would he? These slip-ups were shameful; Pretoria’s own pride stuck mostly to suits, prowling around a fortune built on all manner of crime and machination. A boy who could turn into a lion in a blink, in the middle of a city and a family schedule packed with galas, openings, and prestigious dinners, was a problem. He couldn’t go to school, like other children. Couldn’t have a nanny, to keep him being a burden around the house. So, every cluster of uncontrolled shifts meant a long, long drive, out to his grandparents’ winery - a property large and isolated enough that the family accident could roam free until he settled into his human skin again. It took decades, but, eventually, Ricus penned that lion of his so far from the sunlight that he could hardly feel it stirring. Even then, though… he wasn’t enough. No matter how hard he worked, or how charming he could be. He was still the leftover child. Until Evi found him. What started as two rich kids cutting loose became - well, that, but something more. Like love, a wild, clinging, astonishingly real kind. Love, and opportunity. They started to get big ideas, the sort that would cause big issues, if anybody in their respective, powerful families found out. Evi was a brilliant witch, see. She could make things, very, very special things. Call it medicine, call it recreation. For Ricus, it was both. And so it would be, for anybody willing to pay. Moving goods like that, in the circles they travelled? Hardly work. They were smart about it, but. Their golden days in South Africa came to a messy end - along with Evi’s brother, and the vicious threats he made when he realized his little sister and her van Delouwe boyfriend were the ones responsible for a mysterious sea change in the Cape’s magical trafficking scene. Ricus didn’t mean it this time, either. But he’d done it. Shifted, and what’s worse, killed, before he could stop himself. For reasons he still can’t fathom, Evi pulled him away, and kept him close. They’d be running, country to country, identity to identity, for years: away from the murder of a prominent, well-connected witch, and the theft of a couple accounts’ worth of cash, a few family jewels for the road. They ran, and they dealt, and they learned, and they did it together - a pride unto themselves.

When they arrived in Lethe, dutifully presenting their newest fake identification to the Council, Evi and Ricus were at the end of their North American rope. This little, quaint, miserable town wasn’t his first or fifteenth choice, in terms of spots to settle. Too small. Too cold. But they’d heard there would be plenty of customers, and, just as important, no real competition. If any. The information was good, and so, despite the rain and snow and grey, grey skies, Lethe’s turned out to be the richest ground they’ve found. Evi’s magic, Ricus’s people-pleasing ways; between the two of them, they’ve turned this clammy little town into their oyster. Now, they’re settled in. Those shelves Ricus beams across are stocked high with ingredients, herbal cures and charms, and other magical odds and sods sourced from the many various ties they’ve made. Some savory, some… not so much. But the product’s good, so. Who’s asking? The weed bar is something to behold, too. What? It’s legal, and you have to move with the times. If the proprietors decide they’d like to be friends, you could even get a private consultation - for a unique blend, or tincture, or just about whatever else you might need. Doesn’t matter what you are, vampire, lich, werewolf, anything - they can mix up a hit you’ll never forget. So the story goes. Only one way to find out if it’s true…

Mysterious amnesiacs thrown up on the cold, stony banks of the Quinault. What are the Riverborn, to Ricus? Vaguely disturbing, but they seem… fine enough. Generally speaking, he couldn’t care less. Specifically, in the case of poor, unfortunate Adam Mallory, he’s downright grateful. Ricus’s ever-incandescent ambition is glowing all the brighter these days; with Mallory’s Sundries falling into disarray, he and Evi have been able to pick up the slack in magical supplying around Lethe. Business is booming, in a big way. Finally, he’s able to give Evi what he always wanted to - more. Anything that catches his eye, really. This is a taste of the life they might have had if things hadn’t gone so wrong. The instability of this Council, here, is most of what keeps Ricus tuned to the news in town. If they decide to crack down on magically enhanced substances, if those Councilmembers decide they want a cut to look the other way, if they hear the wrong whisper about what brought those so-called herbalists to Lethe… if, if, if. Ricus would much prefer the Council become as boring and predictable as possible, sooner than later.

#taken #taken male #taken hybrid #ben barnes #ricus van delouwe

[halzxk]

The Fabric Between Us Ch.2

Warnings: Swearing, Combat, Mentions of Death, Fluff

-

“Buck, It’s time to get up” Steve groggily nudges his best friend, trying to wake him up so they can get going on the mission for today. Bucky, still half asleep, tries to hit at Steve. 

“Fuck off, I wanna sleep” Bucky groans. 

“Nope, gotta get up” Steve yanks the pillow from beneath his head and hits Bucky with it. Groaning in protest, Bucky lunges at Steve, tackling him to the ground.

“You’re such a dick, y’know that, right?” Bucky is straddling Steve, with a playful look in his eyes. Bucky quickly grabs the pillow that was used to hit him in the face and starts smacking Steve with it. Both of the large men start laughing and play fighting. Steve quickly gets a leg up on Bucky and starts tickling him, causing Bucky to thrash around on the tent floor.

“Alright! Alright! I surrender!” Bucky yells through his laughter. Steve lets up and rolls off of him, standing up.

“Alright, go get ready, meet us out there in five” and with that, Steve exits the tent, leaving Bucky panting on the floor. 

Bucky loved Steve in every way imaginable, let that be his scrawny ass, or him as bulky, Captain America. He loved him no matter what, he was his best pal, but when they play fight, he gets butterflies in his stomach and it instantly takes him back to when they used to play fight in Steve’s apartment as kids.

Of course, he would have to let Steve win at times, but it would make the skinny blonde all angry because he never liked it when Bucky let him win, it made him feel smaller than he already did. No matter how much Bucky tried to persuade him that he did win on his own, he wasn’t taking it. 

Bucky quickly pushes the thoughts out of his head before he has a bigger problem on his hands than just being late. He stands up and gets himself dressed. He picks up his weapon and heads out of the tent to meet the rest of the guys. He spots all the Howlies standing in a circle, but he doesn’t see Steve. A small bit of panic rises up, but pushes that down, knowing Steve can handle himself.

“Morning, boys. Where is Steve?” Bucky approaches them

“Phillips radioed and called him to his tent” Morita fills him in.

“Oh, is everything alright?” Bucky pushes the panic out of his voice

“Yea, just wanted to brief him, I guess” Gabe jumps in

Bucky nods his head to that and picks up the coffee cup that Dernier is handing him.  

The men turn their heads to the sound of a jeep approaching. It comes to a stop and Steve hops out with Phillips in tow. Steve is extremely hard to miss with his uniform. All the men put down their cups and salute Phillips. 

“At ease, men” Phillips calls out. All the Howlies drop their salutes and pick up their cups again. Bucky is incredibly curious to as what is going on.

“Boys, our mission has been cancelled for today” Steve begins and the men all smile finally happy to have a day off.

“But, we’re to train today on our rifles and PT” he continues, eliciting a groan from Dum-Dum. Looks like they aren’t getting a day off they all hoped for. Phillips turns back to his jeep and hops in. It quickly turns around and heads off.

“Of course on the one day we could’ve had a day off, we had to do fucking training” Dum-Dum mumbles harshly, loud enough that the rest of the Howlies can still hear what he said. 

“What’s his problem? as long as we don’t have to go out and track down more goons, I’m happy to train” Dernier tries to have them look on the brighter side even though it doesn’t do much good since only Gabe, and Cap speak French. Bucky knows enough to bed a dame, but that's about it. Gabe was Dernier’s translator for the rest of the men.

“He said he’s just looking forward to the training as long as he gets a day off from chasing down Hydra goons” Gabe quickly translates, leaving out the part where he was chastising Dum-Dum.

“Alright guys, training is at 1200 hours. Get your shit and let’s go” Cap calls out, dismissing his men to go get their gear. Bucky walks up to Steve with a confused look on his face.

“What happened to the mission, Stevie?” Bucky asks, shouldering his rifle. 

“I asked for a day off and this is the best I could do. We’ve been chasing Hydra men non-stop for a couple of weeks, I thought a break could do us good.” Steve explains to his best friend. 

As he looks at Bucky’s face he could tell he was exhausted. Dark circles outlined his eyes, clearly identifying that he was beyond tired. He also had a scrape on his left cheek bone from getting into hand-to-hand with a Hydra agent. Bucky quickly took him down, but still got some bruises. His bright blue eyes were his most noticeable feature. 

“Oh, thanks pal, it means a lot to us even if we seem a bit upset. We’re just tired, but hey, this means I get to wrestle you again.” Bucky smirks, earning a light punch to his shoulder from his best friend. 

“Until the end of the line” Steve holds up his fist

“Until the end of the line” Bucky first bumps Steve. Saying until the end of the line was their way of saying “I love you”. It had been a thing since Steve was 13 and Bucky was 14. 

-

“Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers, you’re up!” Falsworth calls out to the two best friends. They were all doing hand-to-hand combat training and now it was Steve and Bucky’s turn. Nobody but Bucky was willing to go up against Steve even if they all knew Steve wouldn’t put all his strength into it. Both the men took to the middle of the circle and shook hands quickly. Everyone knew they weren’t going to train in the traditional way, but more launch at each other and see who can pin who down.

“Go!” Calls out the Brit

Bucky and Steve began circling each other, jokingly lunging at each other to sike out the other until Steve goes for it and wraps his arms around Bucky’s waist, taking him to the ground. Bucky lands with a hard thud, but he kept going. Bucky manages to flip Steve on his back and he tries to pin him, but Steve is incredibly strong and quickly overpowers Bucky. All the men around the two guys wrestling are yelling and whistling, chanting either Rogers or Barnes. 

Steve drowns out the chanting and it quickly took him back to being a kid and play fighting with Bucky. Now he actually has a chance to take down Bucky where as he used to never be able to win on his own. He had Bucky’s arms pinned down and he was straddling his hips, keeping him from moving, but he quickly realizes what position they are in and the butterflies kick in. 

“Time!” Falsworth calls out. “The winner is, Captain Rogers!” 

Steve rolls off of Bucky and lays down beside him. He looks over at Bucky and Bucky does the same. As soon as the two men meet eyes, the break out in a laughter, unable to control it. Bucky gets up first and offers a hand to Steve. Steve takes up the offer and lets Bucky help him up off the ground.

“Good fight, Barnes” Steve smiles

“Always a pleasure, Rogers” Bucky returns the smile and then joins the Howlies.

-

All the men sit around a fire that Morita got started up. They’re shooting the shit and trading stories from the day.

“Jesus H. Christ, I know why you’re the sniper for the Commando’s, Barnes” Dum-Dum praises Bucky.

“Thanks” He smiles at Dum-Dum. Bucky turns to Dernier and gestures to the bottle of whiskey being passed around. Dernier hands it to him and Bucky takes a swig. Everyone was sharing the bottle except Steve because he feels no need in drinking since he can’t even get drunk and why waste the booze.

“It was fun to kick your ass today, Buck” Steve chuckles and smirks at Bucky

“You did not! I just let you win for old times sake” Bucky shot back

“Oh no, I’m pretty sure I just kicked your ass”

“Mhm, sure” and with that Bucky took another swig and passed the bottle to Morita.

Steve looks at his watch and saw that it was getting pretty late. “Boys, it’s getting pretty late, we should dig in, who knows what’s in store for us tomorrow” Steve pushes himself up off the log he was sitting on and heads towards the tent him and Bucky share. He hears the rest of the men start towards their cots too. Steve steps into the tent and begins to take his gear off. Bucky steps into the tent and is greeted by the sight of Steve standing in his skivvies with his back towards Bucky.

Bucky can’t help but notice the muscle stretched across his large frame. It ripples everytime Steve moves and Bucky is enraptured with the way his best friend looks.

He pulls himself out of the trance that he was in and clears his throat “Stevie, just for the record, I totally would kick your ass in a fight, I was just tired today”

Steve snorts in response “sure”

Bucky walks up to Steve, drags a finger up a line of muscle on Steve’s back and watches the goosebumps form under his touch.

“What’s up Buck?” Steve turns to face his best guy

“N-nothing” Buck steps back and retreats quickly before he does something stupid. He gets out of his gear and into a shirt and his skivvies. He hears Steve’s cot groan in protest to his weight, alerting Bucky that he’s now in bed. He follows suit, slipping into his cot.

“G’night Stevie”

“G’night Buck”

#steve rogers #bucky barnes #marvel #stucky #catfa

[chemicalmongrel]

Out in the frigid tundra, a blizzard raged across an immense expanse of ice and sleet gripping the rock, soil and conifer trees in an icy chokehold. Wind whipped across the mounds of snow along the banks of a frozen river once responsible for dividing the immense forested side of a mountain range down the middle. It tore over the ridgelines of said mountainous terrain, shrieking in a way that could only be described as ethereal. But while intense vision-obscuring weather was no stranger to the Freljord--this natural phenomena was particularly nasty.  Even still, though, the pelt-bound Freljordians trodded through the white powder that came up to their mid-calves.  “Frode!” called the one taking up the rear, yelling over the scream of the wind. “We’ve been chasin’ this fool’s errand’a yours fer three moons now! We’re all gunna freeze ta death at this rate!”  Spearheading the expedition, Frodge stopped for but a moment to throw his voice back over his shoulder in response to the naysayer. “If ya can’t handle a wee bit’a cold, then turn back Arne! I ain’t givin’ in, not with what was promised ta us!”  “Us? What ‘us!’ Ya ain’t even told us who in the name’a Annivia is promisin’ so much we oughta risk our lives doin’ their bloody to-do list!”  Murmurs of dissent disseminated among those present for the argument, of which none fell on deaf ears.  Frode gritted his teeth and about-faced, really stopping in his tracks for the first time since they set out on the journey. A gale whipped past him, throwing the matted mess of hair hanging from the back of his head in thick braided ropes to billow past his shoulders. The edges of his beard were coated in a layer of frost, just like the countless furs overlapping one another. Fierce eyes narrowed down the slope they’d been ascending the last hour at the uncertain and naysayers.  “Told ya all w’at ya needed ta know! Soothsayers I found said ta get what they needed ta help our village! Ya all know we aint gunna last any longer in this winter! Is the only way!”  One of the men piped up, “But there’s nothin’ out here save fer snow, snow ‘n more snow!”  “Yeah!” Several others cried.  Frode looked from the initial voice to the two that joined in the same sentiment as Arne, face a mask of mounting anger.  “Cause we’re not there yet, fools!”  “But we’re runnin’ low on rations, ‘n the snow’s eatin right through our furs now! We can’ barely make it back from ‘ere, let alone wherever this thing a yers is!” shouted Arne.  “He’s right!”  “’n we’ve seen no animals ta hunt ‘round here since we reached this neck of the journey, we gotta turn back!”  Frode’s nostrils flared as his hands balled up into fists, knuckles whitening from the sheer tension.  “IF YA ARE SO SOFT, THEN TURN BACK WITH ARNE!” he hollered, cheeks burning. “THE ELDER LEFT ME IN CHARGE OF PROTECTIN’ THE VILLAGE, ‘N THIS IS HOW WE DO IT! GO BACK IF YA WANT, BUT KNOW YA GAVE UP ON-”  Suddenly, the crunch of snow reached the arguing band’s attention.  In an instant, whatever confrontation that’d been building up between Frode and the uncertain was pushed to the backburner. Their weapons were drawn without hesitation. Arrows were knocked, shields raised and blades brandished as they scanned their surroundings for whatever begot the interruption. Bit by bit, they began moving in towards one another to form a defensive circle. However, the flurry of ice and sleet hailing down upon them made seeing more than five feet impossible.  “Great... jus’ great...”  “Shut it Arne-!”  “Yer yellin’ attracted some beastie...”  “I said--quiet!”  “...gunna die cold and-”  “I said-!!”  A scream silenced them as everyone whipped around just in time to watch one of the stockier tribesmen got dragged off by the leg into the veil of snow. Some immense shadow disappeared along with him, the one responsible for whisking the man away. And just as soon as he’d started crying bloody murder, the shriek of the wind and ice drowned all in quiet.  “By Lissandra’s- FORM A WA-”  But there was no time to bark orders, for another two who’d backpedaled from where the first was dragged off got yanked back into the curtain of weather with loud shouts, both of which cut out abruptly. They spun about to try and face where the attack came from, but the sound of a screeching star from behind kept them guessing.  A flash of purplish-blue tinted orange and red pastels of light streaked out from beyond the five-foot limitation of sight, colliding with one of the hunters. They screamed at the burning sensation of raw starlight. But this, too, was cut short as the light drew in an armored form like a missile. Platinum blonde hair trailing down past ample hips whipped behind the form as she crashed into the man with a loud crack.  The body crumpled to the floor as she swiveled to position the shield responsible for the impact between herself and the rest of the group. Plates of star-touched metal expanded to fully cover her form as an orange-violet glow emanated from the nooks and crannies of the protective tower mounted to her arm.  A light like the sun radiated off her form, blinding the majority of the men remaining.  Even still, though, two more of the seven remaining tribesmen charged blindly at her. They did not hear the gradual clicking of the very shield responsible for laying out their friend. Nor did they notice how the light shining from the woman’s shield grew in intensity bit by bit until something gave. Before it did, though, she lurched forward to slam the same instrument against the two brawny warriors, dazing them from the sheer force of the impact. At which point, the energy welling up inside of the woman, her armor and shield released in a blooming wall of force and superheated gas.  They were sent sprawling onto their back, smoke wafting off the singed layers of furs covering their body.  “WHY YOU-!” cried Arne.  He came up from behind the woman with twin hand axes drawn, ready to bury them into her skull for seemingly frying his kinsmen. But she was far faster than he, spinning around to knock the hafts clutched in his hands with the searing length of star-kissed metal forming her sword’s blade.  The man gasped and stepped back, loosing hold of his weapons, as he hollered out in pain--for even a momentary touch of such material was enough to scald stone. Before he could react further, however, the woman lunged forward anew to crack Arne in the face with the pommel of her longsword--knocking him out cold as well.  In no time at all, Frode was down to only three of the original ten warriors he brought with him. Or so he believed, for when he cast his eyes over his shoulders to try and give commands to the three men he thought still standing, the only sight that greeted him was the towering pillar of white and blue-tipped fur, muscle and sheer mass of some lupine chimeric entity with the unconscious body of one of his kinsmen clenched between its teeth.  Frode’s eyes widened the moment he spotted the arm of True Ice on the creature.  From back when he was but a tot listening to the stories of ole, he recalled hearing of a hunter-turned-monster that had an arm of True Ice replacing the one he lost in a conflict with a wizened troll. He remembered how the storyteller told him and his childhood friends how this man-turned-beast only ever hunted the greedy, the prideful and people with ill-intent in their hearts. That only brigands and wrongdoers were ever subject to its ire.  Before Frode stood none other than the Tundra Stalker, Hunter of the Malicious.  And when faced with nothing short of a childhood nightmare come to life, Forde could only fall onto his back in terror, scrambling to get as far away from the beast as possible.  “I asked you to take no life, Moonie,” said the woman as she sauntered up from behind Forde.  “BLOOD SHED... LIFE EBBS, YES, BUT NONE TAKEN, JUST AS SUNSHINE ASKED...” the beast replied, releasing the unconscious body from its jaws.  Turning to be on hands and knees, Frode tried to scramble away as fast as he could, but the firm wall of metal impeded him. He looked up only to meet the judgemental warmth of gold and purple coalesced eyes. Her radiant features were hardened with determination, a drive to see whatever goal laying ahead of her through to the very end.  She stepped forward to place the heel of her boot against the waist of the man, raising her sword up to hover mere inches away from his neck. The sheer intensity of the heat wafted off and chafed his skin.  “I seek the soothsayers with which your bargain was made, speak and no harm will come. But hold your tongue and I will forced to do what must be done.”  Heavy footfalls approached from behind now--they were undoubtedly the Stalker.  Swallowing hard, a dry wad caught in his throat and kept him silent for a moment, two moments, three. Each second elapsed allowed the Stalker closer until the crunching snow filled his ears. He squeezed his eyes shut and awaited the end that never came, only to open them anew to find the immense head of the Stalker nestled up under the arm that’d been holding the woman’s shield, nuzzling up into the hand freed up following her stabbing the shield into the ground.  In response, a subtle grin played on her lips for a moment while her fingers ran through the dense fur of the Stalker.  Confusion marred his facial features at the twist of events, but the twitch of the blade beneath his chin incentivized him. He whispered a prayer to the gods he stopped believing in when he became a man, clenching his eyes shut.  “U-up north of Rakelstake lake--past the mountain ridge!” he stammered.  For a moment, he believed his end would be then and there. Once the information passed his lips, she would surely plunge the tip of her sword into his throat and let it charr him alive. But no such action came, rather all he heard was her mumbling something to the chimeric beast and the waning sound of crunching snow.  Until, at last, he was left with only the screeching wind and furious blizzard to keep him company.

#🐺 Warning :: Possible Triggers Within 🐺 #🐺 Graphic Descriptions 🐺 #🐺 Disturbing Imagery 🐺 #🐺 Graphic Depictions of Violence 🐺 #🐺 Blood 🐺 #🐺 Blades 🐺 #🐺 Profanity 🐺 #✍️ Mun's Writing - Drabble ✍️ #🏔️ Tundra Stalker - Verse 🏔️ #🌕 A Radiant Star to Thaw the Frozen Heart - Verse☀️ #🐺 Gnawing Hunger - IC 🐺 #☀️ A Star in the Dark - Leona ☀️ #🐺 The Beast - Warwick 🐺 #(( Part one of a thing I want to do

[laketaj24]

Played Pt. 9

A/N: I know it’s been longer than normal but here you are!! Drama/Smut below the cut. I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think ☺️

Catch up Here with the Masterlist

“Babe stop moving.” You say holding the clippers in your hand. You edge him up near his ear and Ivar moves again staring down at his phone. You stop the cutting his hair once more glancing at his phone. “Ivar Lothbrok! You’re worst than your son. Let me do this.”

“Do you see what they are saying about me? Am I fit to be the CEO? What does my spine have to do with my ability to run this company! Hmmm.” He jerks away from you standing up.

“Nothing baby, they are just making news, so they can have something to talk about, you know how the media is, don’t let them get you.” You take his phone turning it face down on the counter. Nia hadn’t stop making a he deal over the fight. Ubbe had even suspended you to make the media think you were being reprimanded. It bothered you at first but when you were at home with mini Ivar you were fine.

“Why did you do that? I’m reading.”

“You’re just pissing yourself off and making it difficult for me to even cut your hair.” You start the clippers back continuing to cut his hair. “Ian wants to go get some ice cream and then to the park. Are you coming with us?”

“No.”

The answer wasn’t surprising he hadn’t left the house since he’d been released from the hospital and he was working from home, virtual firing people and all. You wanted him to get back to the flow of things but he was extremely cautious of everyone, even his brothers were suspect to him now. “You need to stop being like this baby.” You finish the back of his head and then move to the side. “In wants you to be there with him.”

“Look, I am not ready. Shut up about it.”

Your eyebrow raises at him and you pull him back by his ponytail, so his eyes connect with yours. “I’m gonna let that shit slide because you moody, but don’t test me today, sir. Keep on and I will beat your ass.” Threats were certainly foreplay to Ivar. You could say you were going to throw his ass off a building and his dick was hard in two seconds.  Ivar darts his tongue out at you and you roll your eyes. His eyes were for once playful. “You’re not cute.”

“You are in the ass beating mood here lately.” Ivar says looking back in the mirror. “First you attack Nia and then you threaten me, what are we going to do with you?” His hands cover yours and you stop the clippers. “Hmm? You have all this pent-up energy and I have the perfect way you can work it off.”

“I’m sure you do, but I’m not stopping until I’m done with this other side of your hair.” You can barely muster a sentence as Ivar pushes up against the bathroom counter. He pushes your body onto the sink and pulls your legs towards him placing them on his shoulders. “Ivar.” You whisper. “Your hair.”

“I don’t care about this hair Y/N.” He says smiling against your thighs. You blame yourself for only wearing his shirt and some boy shorts. Your underwear is on the ground before you can think straight and Ivar wastes no time flicking his tongue over your clit. You put your hands in his head allowing him to feast and he does, swirling his tongue all over until it dips inside of you and your legs clamp around him. Ivar’s moans against you send a hum of vibrations to you and you come fillng the bathroom with your yells. He stops and begins to pepper kisses up your stomach ntil he reaches your breasts. “I love the way you sound when you come…” He whispers.

You push his head up placing a kiss on his lips tasting yourself. “You wanna hear it again?”

“Are you kidding me? It’s my favorite song.” He stands grabbing his cane leaning against it. “Take off my shirt and go make yourself come, in the bed.” He watches you slip the shirt over your head and walk over to the California King giving him a show. Ivar’s house was lighter than you expected it to be. You climb onto the bed spreading your legs for him. Ivar stands at the dresser waiting for you to follow his directions. Your fingers spread your folds and your already wet from earlier. It’s easy for you to slip your fingers in  you throwing your head against the pillow. You move your fingers against your clit rubbing in small tight circles then thrust your fingers into you again. Your legs fall flat against the bed and your back arches from the bed and you notice that Ivar has removed all his clothes revealing his lean chest. He strokes himself a few times and you can tell he’s already rigid for you.

Ivar makes his way to the bed climbing on you slowly. His hands travel up your legs and he starts to kiss you. His lips separate yours and your tongues playfully flick at one another. You smile against him and in response he does the same cupping your face between his hands and kissing you deeper. Ivar aligns himself at your entrance pushing into you quickly, causing aloud clap between the two of your bodies. “You’re fucking perfect baby.” He grinds against you giving you that edge that you needed against your clit. Your body writhes for a moment anticipating each thrust. “Are you greedy today, Y/N?” He slowly pulls out of you and then slams back in. Your walls try to pull him deeper and he can’t stop smiling. “Greedy, greedy girl… are you gonna come for me?” His strokes become shorter more intentional to make you come and they do. You meet him with each thrust, spasming and shaking. “You didn’t say my name.” He pounds into you harder and you can’t say anything through your screams. Your body jerks as your hands mingle into his brown locks. “Who made you fall apart?” He asks with his teeth nearly on your ear. He growls and goes into you harder. “Tell me, say it.” He says watching you shake. “Now.” His palms dig into the mattress as his thrust become harder and faster. “Y/N.”

“You.” You nearly scream again feeling another oncoming rush. “Ivar.” And as if his name as a catalyst for him to come he comes still stroking into you harder than before until he stops. “I’ll go get the damn ice cream.” He smiles.

“Thank you.”

***

 Ubbe’s office was busy, the election being right around the corner had people calling for events and charities and he didn’t want to miss one. But not having a secretary had him in a bind.

“Ubbe Lothbrok’s office, speak.” Hvitserk said into the headset.

Ubbe stares at him cutting daggers and Hvitserk shrugs. “No, he’s booked that day. I’m sorry.” He says looking over calendar. “Yeah, I can check.” Hvitserk looks at Ubbe pointing at a date on the calendar. Ubbe shakes his head yes. “Yes, he can do that one. Alright, thanks.” He disconnects the line. “Why are you scowling at me?”

“You’re so fucking unprofessional.” He laughs. “God, I need Y/N back.”

“Yes, you do.  I’m not doing this shit anymore.” Hvitserk takes the headset off and kicks his feet up on the desk. “Ivar say when he was returning.”

“I am not sure.” Ubbe answers. “Lagertha says she did nothing to him and he is paranoid now. He says that he wants her dead. But that really hasn’t changed. He’s wanted her dead for the longest. And I’m afraid it is not her we should be worried about, Ecbert and Aelle have children with intelligence now. They are headhunters. They took Chance right from under Ivar’s nose.”

“I done my research on that guy and I couldn’t figure out what the fuck was wrong with him.” Hvitserk fiddles with zen garden at the corner of the desk.

“Chance is the brother of Liam, the guy Ivar killed. He has a vendetta against him. But Ivar doesn’t need to know that, that is to stay strictly here. Are you listening Hvitserk?”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“He’s meeting us today. He called it and said he wanted to talk, I don’t mind it. He’s never going to side with us.” Ubbe walks around the office shaking his head. “I don’t want Ivar getting worked up more than he is, he has to be the one that is level headed or we will all fail because of his vengeance.”

“Ivar is fine.” Hvitserk says.

Chance arrives a few minutes later, sitting in the chair across from the brothers. “Nice play you got here.” He looks around. “Ivar buy you this too?”

“I don’t need Ivar to buy me anything.” Ubbe lights his cigarette staring at Chance. “What do you want? I know who you are already, so the air of mystery is gone.”

“I want you all to crumble.” Chance smiles.

“Name something new.” Ubbe laughs. “Now what else.”

“I started looking into Ian’s birth. You know that whole situation like baffles me. Why would she hide his child? Was he abusive? Was he manipulative? All of this shit I gathered a yes on.” He laughed. “But I was wrong. I should have gave the devil more credit. You were there when he was born.” He says with a smile. “You always look out for her and shit, the nice brother. Why?”

What do you mean there when he was born?” Hvitserk asks.

“I mean, he was there…” He throws the pictures down on the table. “Is Ian eve Ivar’s? I see the way you care.” Chance chides. “And I know Ivar don’t see shit because all he sees is Y/N. Is he Ivar’s?”

Ubbe shakes his head. “That is none of your business that I was there. And Ian is his, I slept with her one and she was already pregnant. I think it’s time you leave.”

“Next stop Ivar’s I see.”

“Don’t do that to them.” He said. “Ivar and Y/N are good. You are jealous.”

“I’m not fucking jealous. I’m pissed. So you tell your brother about you knowing or I will. I don’t mind ruining his shit. You should at least care.” Chance looks Hvitserk up and down. “you sure you wanna be here when all this shit goes down?”

“I’ve been here for worst.” Hvitserk spits.

 Ivar was good at getting out of things even when that meant changing plans for Ian to make them better. Torvi sat next to you holding her youngest daughter watching all of the kids play on the playground while Ivar sat with Ian eating ice cream he made Torvi bring.

“I swear he’s so damn paranoid.” You whisper to Torvi.

Torvi shakes her head in agreement. “But he looks happy.” She laughed kissing the baby on the forehead. “Ubbe and Uncle Kitserk, as Ian calls him are here.” She points at Ubbe walking over to Ivar. You want to run over and talk to them but your exhausted from the four rounds of fucking you’d had earlier.

 “Ivar.” Ubbe sits next to him dapping little Ian as he runs off into the yard. “How are you?”

“Okay, I should be back next week.” He says to Hvitserk.  “I think if I can fuck like I did today then I should be able to tolerate a few extra meetings.”

Ubbe blushes, “Good. That’s good to hear. Listen I wanted to talk to you because there are some things you should know, Ivar.” He pauses. “chance came by my office today saying he was going to give you some news. I think he’s stirring up shit but I wanted to be the one that told you.”

“Spit it out.” He finished his ice cream placing the bowl on the table beside him.

“A few years ago, when you asked me to find Y/N, I did find her. I found her on the day she gave birth to Ian.”

Ivar looks up. “But, you told me there was no sign of her. You told me that I should give up and I did.” Ivar tries to remain calm clutching his cane. “Ubbe.”

“Look, it wasn’t about you.”

“What do you mean it wasn’t about me! She was mine! You’re the fucking reason that she left in the first place and I now I find out you’re the fucking reason she didn’t come back quicker. What the fuck is your problem huh?”

Ian runs over kicking Ubbe in the leg. “Leave my daddy alone.”

Hvitserk laughs grabbing him by his little arms. “God, you’re a feisty one. Go stand with your cousins.”

“No, Ubbe I want you to answer my question. Do you always have to intervene? The fucking plans we had, you had one job… teach her. You’re so busy worrying about fucking her you failed. She got her ass beat.” Ivar hisses.

“That was years ago.”

“Then, you fuck her while I’m kidnapped and when she returns you’re her only friend. Are you in love with her? Hmmm? You take Bjorn’s wife now you want Y/N?”

“Ivar, you’re being irrational.”

He stands. “No, I’m being rational. A true brother would have told me about this years ago! I missed five years of my child’s life. I blame you. I have every rational right to, now get the fuck out.”

You stand hearing Ivar roar. Then you see it, the two brothers standing off in the courtyard. You move quickly over to him noticing Ian standing far off. “Hey, what’s wrong?”

“Y/N, did Ubbe find you after you had my son? Why do you continue to play me Ubbe! Why huh?” he pushes him and Ubbe steps forward.

(gif credit @ivarsshieldmadien OR @vikingsbifrost I think)

“That was years ago Ivar.” He said through clenched teeth. “I came over here to tell you the truth.”

“fuck your truths! That is not what I asked you Y/N.” he seethes. “You chose to tell me whenever it will harm you, you’re selfish. Fuck you.”

“No let him be mad. Fuck you too, Ivar. I’m tired of always looking out for you and you acting like a fucking infant. I can stand on my own two feet Ivar. You’ll come around when you come to your senses. Torvi, we are leaving!” he yells turning to leave.

Ubbe leaves with his family and you stare at Ivar. “You’re going to destroy everything your father wanted to be whole.” You mumbled.

“Get out.” He says.

“Oh, fucking gladly. Ian!”

Ivar is quiet for a few seconds and he grabs you by your arms towards him. “No, I’m sorry. I need you. But fuck Ubbe. And I mean it.” He kisses your cheek and you roll your eyes. “Just give it some time, stop taking things out on your brother. It’s Lagertha you really want.”

“whatever.” Ivar mumbles. “It’s you, I really want.” He smirks. “Fuck him and everyone else.”

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