skarsgard-daydreams

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Hi babes. I am working constantly, but I miss you all.

Also, I am sososo excited for The Northman!

❤️

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imagine Eric Northman teasing you until you are breathless beneath him, unable to speak except to desperately whisper, "please..." and he knows he's going to give you exactly what you want, but fuck, does he love to hear you beg. so he hums inquisitively as if he couldn't quite hear you and resumes his sweet torture, wringing the word from your lips until morning

[skarsgard-daydreams]

for @stevesharrlngtons and @grandpa-sweaters

What do you think Bills character's MBTI type is? Except Merkel, as you talked about that one.

Oh, anon, you are a person after my own heart. I love to talk personality types even though I will always admit that they are an imperfect tool and that you can’t entirely classify people. But since I am an ENFJ, figuring other people out is a hobby of mine. Tell me your sign, tell me your enneagram, tell me your MBTI. Teach me how to understand you better. 

You’ll notice that I listed Roman on here twice. That’s because he seems to present as two different personalities depending on which side of him is more dominant at the time: his human side, or his upir side. There is a theory in personality assessment that, when you’re acting in a way that is contrary to your natural type, it places you under a great deal of stress. I maintain that the human side of Roman is his natural type, and wrestling with his upir side makes him irritable and difficult to be around and prevents true self-actualization.

Two more notes: I am making the assumption that The Kid is indeed Henry Deaver from a parallel reality, though I think the type works either way. Also thank you @skrsgardspam and @girlinthecorner for letting me pick your brains.

Headcanons: MBTI Types

Willard: The Logistician, aka The Duty Fulfiller (ISTJ)

Their defining characteristics of integrity, practical logic and tireless dedication to duty make Logisticians a vital core to many families, as well as organizations that uphold traditions, rules and standards, such as law offices, regulatory bodies and military. People with the Logistician personality type enjoy taking responsibility for their actions, and take pride in the work they do – when working towards a goal, Logisticians hold back none of their time and energy completing each relevant task with accuracy and patience.

Axel: The Virtuoso, aka The Mechanic (ISTP)

While their mechanical tendencies can make them appear simple at a glance, Virtuosos are actually quite enigmatic. Friendly but very private, calm but suddenly spontaneous, extremely curious but unable to stay focused on formal studies, Virtuoso personalities can be a challenge to predict, even by their friends and loved ones. Virtuosos can seem very loyal and steady for a while, but they tend to build up a store of impulsive energy that explodes without warning, taking their interests in bold new directions.

Merkel: The Architect, aka The Mastermind (INTJ)

Architects question everything. Many personality types trust the status quo, relying on conventional wisdom and other people’s expertise as they go about their lives. But ever-skeptical Architects prefer to make their own discoveries. In their quest to find better ways of doing things, they aren’t afraid to break the rules or risk disapproval – in fact, they rather enjoy it.

Roman (human side): The Entertainer, aka The Performer (ESFP)

Making new friends isn’t a problem for Entertainers... they use an alluring combination of blunt truths and disarming openness and charm to keep things moving. Where Entertainer personalities falter is in keeping the friends they already have. In their excitement and focus on here and now over history, Entertainers too easily exhaust the adventure one person has to offer, moving on once one person’s novelty has worn off. This can all give the impression that Entertainers are shallow, pleasure-centric creatures who care little for anyone but themselves. This is a terrible misunderstanding...

Roman (upir side): The Commander, aka The Executive (ENTJ)

At the negotiating table, be it in a corporate environment or buying a car, Commanders are dominant, relentless, and unforgiving. This isn’t because they are coldhearted or vicious per se – it’s more that Commander personalities genuinely enjoy the challenge, the battle of wits, the repartee that comes from this environment, and if the other side can’t keep up, that’s no reason for Commanders to fold on their own core tenet of ultimate victory. The underlying thought running through the Commander mind might be something like "I don’t care if you call me an insensitive b*****d, as long as I remain an efficient b*****d".

Mickey: The Campaigner, aka The Champion (ENFP)

Campaigners tend to get deeply involved in others’ lives, going to great lengths and efforts to be the selfless, caring and supportive people they are, and all the while forget to take care of themselves. Both in terms of basic needs like financial stability and rest, as well as more emotional needs like mutual understanding and reciprocation, Campaigner personalities tend to give much more of themselves than most are even capable of giving back.

The Kid: The Logician, aka The Thinker (INTP)

They may appear to drift about in an unending daydream, but Logicians’ thought process is unceasing, and their minds buzz with ideas from the moment they wake up. This constant thinking can have the effect of making them look pensive and detached, as they are often conducting full-fledged debates in their own heads, but really Logicians are quite relaxed and friendly when they are with people they know, or who share their interests. However, this can be replaced by overwhelming shyness when Logician personalities are among unfamiliar faces...

Sources: 16 Personalities

[skarsgard-daydreams]

So true lmaoo

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Father and son.

DUNE (2021)

Timothée Chalamet and Oscar Isaac as Paul and Leto Atreides.

+Bonus:

Taglist: @prettylilhalforc @mypedrom @fisforfulcrum @the-little-ewok 

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Roman’s little OMFG face when the song comes on the loudspeaker in the last episode of Succession is just... *chef’s kiss*

[skarsgard-daydreams]

It’s this Scorpio’s birthday today. Starbucks did me dirty by getting rid of their Egg Nog Lattes, but I won’t let that get me down because I got the job offer I wanted and the update to Animal Crossing 😆

[skarsgard-daydreams]

instagram  @worldofskarsgard1

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Hey y’all...

YO BITCH GOT THE JOB AT THE FORTUNE 500 COMPANY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

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a.) pun hella intended

b.) the grey streaks in his hair? kill me.

help me y'all, Dune is making me so thirsty 😫

[skarsgard-daydreams]

papa skarsgard out here looking like a talking turd

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help me y'all, Dune is making me so thirsty 😫

[skarsgard-daydreams]

I wonder if the sad I’d be without you is less than the sad I’d be being with you.

Succession

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Sleepy Hollow + favourite outfits

[skarsgard-daydreams]

Today's agenda:

Drink Pumpkin Spice Latte

Play Dead by Daylight

Eat Pizza

Watch World War Z

Watch Sleepy Hollow

Watch The Conjuring

Eat Candy

[skarsgard-daydreams]

One more Halloween story!

Halloween party Eric and Pam (in whatever era you want 💓😌)

This is a bit of fun just for you, my dear sweet Ros 💓

Masquerade

Description: On Halloween night in Shreveport, Pam can’t resist playing dress up with you.

Warnings: none

Halloween is serious business at Fangtasia. Not because the proprietors particularly care for the holiday, mind you. Eric is puzzled by contemporary humans' interpretation of Samhain, and Pam is convinced that the festivities are a clever ploy to cover up the mischief of real witches. But ever since vampires came out of the coffin, Fangtasia has become the prime Halloween destination in Northern Louisiana. Eric marks up the drink prices and increases club security for the night, while Pam hires a pair of vampire burlesque dancers so scandalous that it makes the middle-aged women who frequent the hair salon across the street clutch their pearls when they see the poster. To your mind, however, they have overlooked the most important question.

“What about your costumes?” you ask from your perch on a barstool at four in the morning. Pam counts the money in the cash register in seconds. “Costumes?” she repeats, pressing her pink lips into a thin line. “Why would we wear.... costumes?”

You stir the watery remains of your Bloody Mary and shrug your shoulder. “It’s fun.” Over your shoulder, you can see Eric walking back from locking up the bar. “I thought I might dress up as a pirate, or something.”

Pam’s expression of disapproval suddenly turns into a dangerous smile as Eric walks behind the bar and glances at the cash drawer.

“Everything accounted for?” he asks.

“Yes,” Pam answers in a flat drawl. “You’ll be happy to know your little pet isn’t short-changing us.”

“Aww,” Eric says, leaning his elbows on the bar so he can look you in the eye as he winks. “She’s warming up to you.”

You can’t help but grin. “She’s practically room temperature.”

Eric chuckles. “Tepid.” He reaches across the counter and places his large hand over yours, rubbing the back of your palm with his thumb. “I think that’s the word.”

“This one thinks we ought to wear costumes tomorrow,” Pam tells him. She puts two bottles of O-negative in the microwave, pressing each button carefully with her short, manicured nails.

You can feel the warmth rising in your face. You know it was a stupid question on your part—why would vampires wear costumes on Halloween, anyway? You’re about to open your mouth to say as much when Eric arches a brow. “Like a bal masqué?” he asks, his interest piqued.

“Um,” you stammer. “Yeah, I guess so. Like a bal masqué.”

Eric gives an intrigued hum, the soft pad of his thumb still brushing your hand idly. “I think we might have something to wear hidden in the back of Pam’s closet.”

The possibility of using you as a dress up doll suddenly captures Pam’s attention. She appears at Eric’s side, picking up the empty Bloody Mary glass from the counter. “Oh yes,” she says, her sharp gaze fixed on you. “That would be fun.”

The downside to spending Halloween with vampires is that you can’t start getting ready for your shift at the bar until it’s already sundown. Eric’s daytime assistant lets you in to the house at dusk, but you don’t dare go snooping through Pam’s closet without her. You slip off your shoes at the door and make yourself at home on the couch, flipping through channels until you settle on one airing 30 Days of Night. Eric’s dark chuckle behind you in the middle of an intense scene makes you yelp with surprise.

“Who would stay in that shithole just for polar night?” Eric asks, staring at the television with a puzzled look. “They could go to Sweden. Or Norway.”

You sit up on your knees and turn around to face him across the back of the couch. “Have you done it?” you ask. Eric runs his fingers through your hair and coaxes your head forward, planting a kiss on your forehead.

“I wintered there before the Great Revelation,” he says wistfully. “But now it’s too crowded with tourists to enjoy yourself.”

Pam walks out of the door to the basement nursing a bottle of True Blood and dressed in a pink Juicy Couture tracksuit. “Hands off the girl, Eric,” she says flatly. “We have to be at the bar in less than two hours, and we have a lot of work to do.”

“I could help,�� Eric offers with a playful smirk. You kiss him lightly before pulling away.

“I doubt it.”

A few minutes later, you’re standing on a small platform in the center of Pam’s closet, which looks like it used to be the master bedroom. Rows and rows of dresses from every era line the walls, carefully organized by designer and season. Pam’s gaze flickers up and down your body as though she’s sizing up the merchandise.

“Strip,” she commands.

It’s your turn to raise your eyebrows. “Should I make a show of it?” you ask, grinning widely.

“As much as I would love to see it—and I would love to see it—we don’t have enough time,” Pam says, a hint of disappointment in her voice.

You shimmy out of your clothes, and soon enough a corset is hugging your body like armor and a petticoat is flaring out from your hips, giving you the illusion of a much smaller waist than what you naturally possess.

Pam takes down a gown made of a dark gilded brocade, with a low-cut Tudor neckline and a voluminous skirt. It looks like something you’d see in a period drama but with a modern flare. “I stole this off a model at the 90th Anniversary party for Vogue Magazine,” she says. 

“Is that how you do all of your shopping?” you ask as she helps you into the gown. She yanks at the laces in the back a little too harshly in response, but you can hear a smile in her voice when she answers.

“Sometimes.”

Pam finishes off the look with a swooping feather in your hair and a dark lace mask over your eyes. When you look in the floor-length mirror, you hardly recognize yourself.

“I feel like Anne Boleyn,” you tell her.

“Oh, she was much uglier than you,” Pam says. She puts on her own dress—a Victorian gown made of wine-colored satin that you suspect is as old as her—and searches through an old armoire filled with jewelry. “Eric told me she was a cow.”

“You called me a cow, if my memory serves,” you remind her. Pam takes out a choker made of fine gold links and studded with diamonds. She pulls it tight against your throat as though intending to garrote you.

“Yes, but you’re like a cute little cow.” She gives the necklace some more slack and fastens it into place, smoothing her hands over your shoulders affectionately. “One with a flower crown and a bell around its neck.”

She takes your hands in hers and tugs a pair of black velvet gloves over your fingers with the same delicacy as if she were dressing a porcelain doll. She slides a gold ring with a massive sapphire onto the ring finger of your left hand.

“I’m going to be slinging drinks,” you protest. “Not making my introduction at a debutante ball.”

Pam gives you a knowing smile. “If you think Eric will have you working behind the bar like a servant girl after he sees you in this, you’re a fool.” She kisses your cheek and sits down at her vanity to touch up her makeup. 

“Pamela?” Eric calls from the hallway. “Are you ladies decent?”

Before either of you can answer, Eric is leaning in the doorway, dressed in a dark velvet doublet and a pair of tight leather pants. His long fingers are adorned with glittering rings and he has an ornate sword hanging from a belt slung around his hips. He arranges his face into a façade of composure, but he can’t hide his fangs when he flashes you a smile.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a small twirl as you stand on the platform. From its height, you are almost at his eye-level.

Eric takes a step closer, his leather boots thudding against the hardwood floor. “I think,” he says, taking your hand in his. “You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen.” He raises your hand to his lips and kisses your ring, keeping his blue eyes fixed on you.

You half expect Pam to say something snarky, but you realize as he helps you down from the platform that she’s nowhere to be seen. Your words stick in your throat and you look up at your lover, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Have you ever looked in a mirror?” you manage to say in a breathless voice, but then his hand is in your hair and his mouth is on yours and he is kissing you as though you are the only thing that gives him life. You trail your free hand over his chest and close the gap between the two of you, parting your lips as he tilts your face up and deepens the kiss. His fangs are sharp against your mouth, but he’s careful not to draw blood.

When you break away for a breath of air, you spot Pam brandishing a tube of blood-red lipstick out of the corner of your eye with an air of impatience. “As much as I hate to interrupt you two,” she says. “Some of us have to work tonight.”

Eric gives you another lingering kiss and caresses your cheek as he pulls away reluctantly. Pam puts her hands on her hips and he cuts her a searing look, though there is something playful in his face. They both let loose a volley of insults, each one more biting than the next.

“Killjoy.”

“Lothario.”

“Tyrant.”

“Libertine.”

“Shrew.”

“Rake.”

You cover Eric’s mouth with your gloved hand before he can say another word. “That’s enough,” you tell them both. Eric’s cool gaze lands on your face, staring at you with odd fascination as you withdraw your fingers from his lips. You rise up on your toes and kiss the corner of his mouth. “We can finish this later,” you whisper.

“Later, then,” he agrees. There is something darker in his voice that suggests he would rather send Pam on without him and unwrap you from your dress like a piece of candy, but he gathers himself smoothly and offers Pam his other hand.

When he walks into the club that night, he has a girl on each arm, a spring in his step, and a sly smile that suggests the dress will not survive the evening.

@scxrsgxrd @stevesharrlngtons @grandpa-sweaters

[skarsgard-daydreams]

A little something for the spooky season 🎃

Scary Monsters and Super Creeps

Description: On a lone stretch of highway on Halloween night, Mickey and his girlfriend pass the time with a spooky story.

Warnings: strong language and maybe something spooky, also a tiny reference to there being an election, but that’s all

“I can’t believe Halloween is finally on a Saturday, and on a full moon, and we’re spending it driving through West Virginia,” Mickey complained, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel as he peered out at the darkened stretch of highway before him. You hadn’t seen any cars for miles in either direction, as if everyone else in the state had gone out celebrating the holiday and you two were the only people missing out. You placed your hand on your boyfriend’s arm and gave him a sympathetic look.

“I know, baby, but if we don’t keep driving, there’s no way we’ll make it home in time to vote,” you said sweetly. “And you know how important it is to me,” you added, leaning in to plant a soft kiss against his stubbled jaw.

Mickey’s agitation seemed to melt, then, and he looked at you with that raw affection that always made you so grateful to have him for your partner-in-crime. You smiled and tousled his hair with your fingers.

“I love you.”

“I know,” he said, and grinned, because he knew saying it drove you crazy, and it made him feel like Han Solo.

“Well, since it’s Halloween,” you said, snuggling into his jean jacket draped around your shoulders. “Why don’t we tell scary stories?”

Mickey lifted a skeptical eyebrow, glancing in your direction. “Yeah, but… won’t you get scared?”

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