#FINALLY I HAVE MY GRUBBY PAWS ON HIM

[todayisafridaynight]

Im going to throw up

bonus hand jumpscare:

[optimist-pine]

Chicken

Summary: In which Daryl greatly regrets ever offering to help you.

Warnings: None

Word Count: 614

Era: The Prison

A/n: There's no dignified way to wrangle a chicken. (Source: just trust me.)

Capturing the ever-wilding fowl had been your bright idea, and you're sticking to the opinion that it's a good one - no matter what your companion's thoughts on the matter are. The crops are great, the pigs are fine, and the horses are beautiful. But the chickens have been your project from the start, and you take pride in your contribution.

At least, that's what you remind yourself as you stand here in the middle of the woods, out of breath and almost out of patience.

You take a step and startle the three birds in Daryl's direction for the umpteenth time. "If you-" You start to say.

He interrupts, "If these damn birds dun' start cooperatin' I'm eatin' chicken for dinner." He lunges for a black hen, wrapping his hands around her middle, but one of her wings isn't covered completely and it slips free, thwacking him square in the face. He recoils and drops her instinctively, cursing when she gets away again.

It's your turn to try and snatch a bird but you're finding it hard to stop laughing and your attempt is halfhearted. Daryl jumps on the opportunity, managing to hang onto the orange hen this time. Her wings are flapping like crazy and she's squawking as if he's trying to wring her neck; his arms holding her out as far from his body as possible. He's shouting at you to grab the crate to put her in, but a snort squeezes out and then another, and you're engulfed in laughter so intense you've got to hold your stomach and fight your screaming lungs for air.

You put your palm against a tree trunk for support, attempting to rein in the ridiculous sounds that your body is producing all while a chicken and a full-grown man have a mutual freakout a few steps away.

Somehow you manage to push the crate near enough to him that he can safely trap the hen. "It ain't that funny." He grumbles, giving you a squinty scowl.

"I know, I know, it shouldn't be-" You gasp around lungfuls of air.

"It ain't." He repeats.

"-but it is!" You choke. "You- you both looked ridiculous, I'm sorry!" Tears are leaking out of the corners of your eyes. The image of Daryl and the bird in full panic mode won't move out of your mind.

He huffs, the equivalent of an eye roll. "C'mon, girl. Let's get the rest'a yer stupid birds."

When you've made it back to the prison and introduced the new chickens to the rest of the flock Daryl points at the gorgeous white rooster you'd finally managed to wrangle. "Tha' one's gonna make a great meal."

You slap his arm lightly. "You better keep your grubby paws off'a my chickens! Sides, ya can't eat 'im til we get some chicks outta 'im."

Hershel joins the two of you with a gentle smile. "How'd the chicken catching go?"

"Piece'a cake." You grin.

That same orange hen is staring Daryl right in the eye. "That's not how I would'a described it..." He says, and you swear he shudders ever so slightly.

Unfortunately (for him) you spend a lot of time around the coop, and it's not long before a strange friendship reluctantly blossoms between the man and that bird. She constantly follows him and he actively tries to avoid her. It never fails to make you smile, and soon enough he's bringing her treats and giving her pats and it's rare not to see her tailing his heels.

And fortunately (for him) the day comes when he does in fact get to eat that rooster. He's adamant that it's the best chicken he's ever tasted.

[neteyamslovrr]

RETURN - PT3

summary: five years ago he left you. left you alone with nothing but memories of your love. so how dare he come back now?

contents: 2.8k words, depression, angst, slight conflict, not very well proof read but that brings authenticity lmao

authors note: thankyou all for being so patient with my upload <33 ALSO LOOK AT WHAT MY BAE @cinetrix made omg (its the header pic) THATS GROWN UP NETEYAM THATS OUR BABY hes so handsome and bae is so talented and kind

previous / next

It had been over a month since they Sully’s had returned to the clan. While they slid back into their forest way of life, like a lost puzzle piece that was finally found you felt like you were back to being a bunch on scrambled up pieces with no way to connect yourself back together again.

Seeing him was a constant reminder of the despair that took over your life for years. The rotted you from the inside out leaving you as a shell of a woman as he took your soul with him when he left.

Those closest to you noticed your decline. Especially Mo’at. Someone you had to start seeing regularly due to your mothers pestering.

“Child…it is not hard to see the way your spirit has left you.” She spoke softly yet with so much truth it felt as is she had stabbed you with a dagger.

You were sat on the floor of her large medical tent that was set up in High camp. It was cold, the cool breeze making the fine hairs in your body stand up as you consciously avoided any gaze that Mo’at threw at you.

“He took it with him.” It felt like a deep dark secret that you had ripped out of your throat as it sliced its way up. Admitting that Neteyam had broken you so much that he had managed to start cracking you away with his return made you feel weak. Made you feel defeated.

“Maybe…he is here to give it back.” Mo’at sighed softly, a kind hand pushing your hair out of your face as she crouched in front of you. “Dear child your heart cries out. You must listen when your body talks to you.”

“I am afraid, so afraid.” Mo’at nodded letting you fall into her arms, a much needed hug that you craved for.

“Fear is never unreasonable child, but do not let cowardice infect your heart like it infected his.”

Neteyam had desperately tried to even get you to look at him after the last time you both conversed. It ended in him running away. As soon as he walked off he wished he could have socked Va’tep. Knocked him hard enough that his grubby paws would never caress your precious skin ever again.

He would try and talk to you only to be shut down by a harsh glare or excuse to leave. However whenever he even entered the same room as you he would immediately watch you excuse yourself and leave.

And Eywa did it crush him. To see how opposed he was to your presence. To see how his face repulsed you so much. He knew it was naïve to think he could return to you running into his arms so he could spin you around and hold you close. It was stupid for him to think you would ever wait for him. Not when he abandoned you.

A habit he had as a child was always to go to his grandmother for wisdom. Something he had sorely lacked the past half decade. He knew you were close with her. He knew she was the wisest woman this tribe had. But he was also terrified of a reality check that would hit him so harshly he wouldn’t know how to react. That’s why he was so resistant on approaching Mo’at.

But when he looked over to the top levels of High Camp where you and Va’tep had sat yourselves as you weaved expertly. He saw the way Va’tep’s smile was not as wide as it could be, he noticed that your eyes never met his even as you talked. He stared closely, squinting his eyes to focus on how Va’tep’s hands would crawl up your thigh and your body would stiffen and squirm instead on relaxing into the touch. As if his hands were grating your perfect skin.

When he saw how miserable you were when you looked away from Va’tep to wipe your eyes subtly. His heart sunk. He could not go on without you, he couldn’t continue without being able to get you back.

Neteyam hesitantly opened the curtains of his grandmother’s tent as he sucked in a nervous breath.

Her ears perked up immediately to the sound. “Neteyam…I expected you sooner child.” Her eyes were always sharp, enough to slice the strongest man in half.

Neteyam let out a soft chuckle. “I assume you know why I am here.” He sat beside her, shuffling awkwardly on the mat so he could watch his grandmother mush together fine pastes that turned into her medicines .

“Is she troubling your mind?” Even the mention of your cut his soul, like a sweet melody that sudden struck the wrong chord.

“Grandmother… I know I messed up. I know I abandoned her… if I could take back everything I did, I would in a heartbeat.” His voice was pained, head hung low in shame. “I just… I just want her back.”

Mo’at nodded as she laid an empathetic hand on his back. “You must give her time…”

“But I have already been here for so long! I know I was gone for so…so long but I thought she may have at least… warmed up to me slightly. I don’t expect her to change completely. I just want to be able to talk to her, look into her eyes. I miss the warmth I felt when I saw her smile…I never see her smile anymore.”

Neteyam tried desperately not to cry, but oh how difficult it was when he felt the weight of your absence lay so heavily on his chest.

Mo’at let out a sigh, one that felt heavy, one that changed the atmosphere as she exhaled. “She is scared child. She was…she was gone once you left. Your absence was sorely missed, but it truly broke her. There was nothing left of her when you left.”

Neteyam said nothing, though his eyes begged for some sort of explanation, his pupils pleaded as his entire focus was centred on the words exiting his grandmother’s mouth.

Mo’at sucked in a sharp breath, repeating your despair was always hard, to think you experienced such depression. “The day you left she didn’t stop crying. For days she replaced the strongest waterfall in the forest. Her sobs racked through the village as she cried your name out. She screamed it in her sleep, she sobbed it as she woke. She was completely broken. But that was not the worst of it.”

Neteyam already felt his heart sinking. It floated down as he thought more about the anguish he had caused you. His ears hung low in shame as he attentively listen as Mo’at continued to speak.

“It was after the tears. The acceptance. The betrayal. She was no longer her, she was a shell, a corpse. The poor child…she didn’t move for months. No one could get her to leave her hammock, she laid there for days, she didn’t eat, didn’t sleep, didn’t speak. She was nothing.”

Neteyam let out a whimper. One that tried to cover up the sob that was aching to escape him. Guilt racked through him as he could barely look in Mo’at’s eyes as she continued to speak.

“Some days I look back and remember the state she was in, the way her body was so frail, so weak. She was so sick, riddled with the disease of heartbreak. My child I know you left her here because it was safe. Child I know you thought were saving your lover. But Neteyam…she does not want to remember her anguish, but every time she looks at you she is remembered of those times.”

“What could I possibly do” His voice is raspy and quiet. Barely able to let out a noise as his throat betrays him.

“Create new memories, let her remember new days with you, why she loved you so much. Enable her to let go of the sadness she holds in her heart that filled in the place you took from her.”

Neteyam nods. His mind swirling as a million epiphanies hit him at once. There was no way he could ever forgive himself for causing you sorrow, but he only prayed that you would be able to feel enough forgiveness to let him put back the missing puzzle piece in the jigsaw of your heart.

Va’tep was Tarsem’s brother, the Olo’eyktan. So Va’tep was his right hand man, right beside him through every decision and every battle. Which meant as Va’tep’s promised mate, had a large amount of expected participation in war party meeting such as this.

“If we attack from the east we will get a clear shot towards the demons.” Va’tep said as he drew out a map with a stick onto the large plot of dirt that everyone was circled around.

You couldn’t help but notice the flaws in his plan. East was directly in front of the base the demons had there. While we would have clear a view…there would be significantly more danger.

“Va’tep…I think we should maybe approach it from the south.” You hated speaking up in these meetings, as all the warriors’ beady eyes locked onto you. It made you queasy, as if you were going to spew instead of saying the words you were thinking.

Va’tep’s eyes sharpen as he looks as if you had slapped him across the face with your suggestion. “The south has many sight obstacles…it will be harder to navigate” His voice was deep, and husky. It was obvious he was starting to fume.

“But the base is right there. It would be dangerous to approach that direction!” You raise your voice slightly, only in a way to show how desperate you were to get your point across.

Neteyam watched this interaction closely. Studying every single inch of your body language. He always knew how wise you were when it came to stuff like this. You were always calculating the best solution for anything that may spring up in the battlefield. When Jake was Olo’eyktan, you were one of his greatest assets because of your knowledge.

The back and forth goes on for a while as no other warrior dared to speak up. Until he did. Neteyam of course.

“She’s right…there would be much more danger if we were to take the East route.” As soon as you heard his voice it felt like a spotlight of hope was shun onto your heart.

Va’tep grunted at the unwanted input. “The South route is a cowardice route. Something I guess you can sympathize with.” His words were like venom, scorching Neteyam as he stared daggers into him.

“The East route is brazen, unsafe and uncalculated. Something you definitely can understand. Isn’t that right Va’tep?” Neteyam rarely stooped to a level this low, but with the overhanging threat of you being shut down by your ‘mate’ was enough to make Neteyam seethe.

“I’ll show you something you’ll understand-”

Va’tep fumed as Tarsem decided it was his time to step in, changing the subject and postponing the decision for further analysis. But you didn’t forget the way your heart-beat as Neteyam supported you. Something you hadn’t felt in a long time. Supported.

The day turned to dusk as you sat by the river, kicking your feet in the cool water as you listened to the world around you. Each sound was perfectly tuned together, a perfect song of the world.

You heart-beat is slow, resting on your hands as the dirt meets your soft palms. Your eyes closed to protect themselves from the harsh rays of light that shun down onto your body. It was peaceful, it was calm.

The unfamiliar sound of crunching leaves grew behind you. Ears perked up tail swishing in alert you turn to see Neteyam approaching.

You can’t deny the dread you feel when you see him. And you can’t deny the way your heart beats like crazy whenever you are close enough to see how much he grew. How much he changed.

You wonder if he thought about you. If he ever noticed the changes of your mature figure or if he couldn’t notice if you looked different to how he remembered you.

“Hey you.” His voice was sweet and musky, enough to send shivers down your spine as you refused to meet his golden eyes.

“Hi there.” Your voice was always quiet…but these five years made it dull. As if there was nothing much else for it to be excited  about.

“I thought I would find you here.” Your brows moved in curiosity, body facing him as he sat beside you, waving his defined legs in the water.

“Why’s that?”

“This was our river…do you remember.” Oh you remember. How could you forget. This river was the one thing you held into when he left. As you slept on the riverbed pretending the rushing water was his soft voice hushing you to sleep.

“Yes…I do.” Neteyam felt a rush of joy run through him. Maybe it was hope. Hope to get you back. Hope to show just how much you mean to him, that you are his treasure. He let out a soft chuckle, fighting the urge to let his fingers slip over your knuckles. He knew it was too soon.

“You were wise in the meeting today.” He said earnestly, looking at you with nothing but sincerity as he watched a blush form on your face, as you turned away from him. Avoiding his intense stare.

“It was just common sense.” You shrug, trying to not seem flattered. “I am at the meetings for a reason.”

“Well…it was still impressive. Was your mate as impressed?” The subject of Va’tep left a sour taste in his mouth and a sour look on your face.

“Please do not speak of him.” You say defeated. Va’tep was a sore reminder in your mind of how you were nothing but a trophy to your parents. A woman to marry off to gain rank.

You were lucky enough to be fated with Neteyam. But it all crumbled when he left. Everything did. Like an earthquake that broke the foundation of every single building in your soul.

Neteyam gave a curious hum, nodding. “Why not?”

“Neteyam. Stop.” He freezes at the tone of your voice, his mind begging that he did not mess up the harmonious moment you were both sharing together.

“W-What?”

“Neteyam…please have mercy on my heart.” You sucked in a sharp breath as you looked into Neteyams watery eyes. “Please.”

He frowned at your plead. “Have mercy on yourself… please… please have mercy on me. And I will never hurt your heart again.” Neteyam gasps after he talked, his sentence being so vulnerable it took the breath out of him.

“I can’t do this…Neteyam you know I can’t” And oh how you wanted to run away with him. To escape your dull life with Va’tep and be able to freely be who you were. To find yourself once again. But it was all too much, his absence took your hope. But he was adamant on giving it back.

“…We can… trust me. Please we can start over… I know. I know I have hurt you, I have scarred your heart. But on the great mother’s name, I will never leave you again… you were my everything and still are. Please don’t think for second I ever stopped loving you.”

The tears started running down your cheeks, but you barely noticed as you stared into the ripples of the water. His words seeping into your skin like a tender kiss.

“Neteyam I’m afraid.” It was barely a whisper. A soft confession that made your lips quivered. “I’m afraid of losing you and myself again.” Neteyam frowned, his brows furrowed as he took his rough fingers to turn your face towards him. His thumb wiping the tears off delicately.

“you have every right to be afraid… but please let me prove to you… that its okay to let go of your fears. Let me... please.”

And in that moment it was as if a switch flipped in you. Every worry washing away as you felt his warmth once again. The years of built up wishes and cravings for him were finally met. As his gaze melted into you, a sad smile across his face as he held onto you tenderly. Every ounce of love pouring into you.

“…please show me how to let go…”

thankyou so much for reading my lovelies!! reblogs + replies extra appreciated!!

series taglist (closed): @notsaelty @mommyneytiri @hannabanana-09 @gloryavila @peachinsominac @jaidalise @neqeyam @hello222sthings @tsuteysyawntu @neyetams @yhern05 @emjeez @adaiasafira @kiri-tuk @yaya6765 @biscuitbeater15 @iwannahaveaprettyaesthetic @plooloo @savvysscandles @dilucslilmeowmeow @69cocktimusprime @newjeansbonnie @chatoicboy @pinkpantheris @plzfeedmebread @afro-hispwriter @lollife1617 @goddesslilithmoriarty @cinetrix @grierpilots @melsunshine @valentineheartzz @tsveria @mikeyswifie @junnniiieee07 @wifeyofeveryone @baebinana @thatonegirlwiththebeanie367 @neteyamssbaby @taleiak @cheyehc @shoyos-sugarbaby @be3flow3r

everything taglist: @8resa @ilovejakesullysdick @neteyamsblog @live-laugh-neteyam @reyalvr @trashfox @darkacademictrash @scntfrhs @dreamyescapesfromreality @fanboyluvr @neteyamzmate @neteyamyawne @neteyamssbaby @oceanstar19 @sharkybabe9 @laylasbunbunny @s-surreality

[thegreymoon]

I finally got my grubby paws on the e-book and am now reading bits and pieces of the farm arc and cackling over how horny and stupid they both are 🤣🤣

And then it occurred to me that it's been 7 years since Mo Ran has had sex?? The last time for him was that encounter with Rong Jiu just after he transmigrated and after that... nothing? There are no other people, Shi Mei famously has no effect on his state of arousal and all he does for literal years is angst about his perpetual boner for Chu Wanning. Then the Heavenly Rift happens, and he angsts and pines some more, this time with "respect and cherish" added into the mix. However, once that veil was lifted, other people were no longer even an option. Which, considering how sexual he is is just 🤯🤯 Also, keep in mind these were his late teens and early twenties, the poor guy must have been going out of his mind. No wonder his brain is melting out of his ears by the time Shizun comes back to the world of the living and is walking around all oblivious, throwing his jealous little tantrums and tripping into his arms and smelling of haitang all the damn time.

[brettanomycroft]

incredibly intrigued by your sam thoughts give me more

hooooohohohohohoh *rubs together grubby little raccoon paws*

I am excited to answer this and also don't know how much more I'll be able to say about Sam that I haven't already discussed here and here (though danged if I'm not going to try!)

Something that I think is central to understanding how my brain thinks about Sam is the way I think about Gwen; more specifically-

(Gwen and Sam from @boonsandwhatever 's amazing art, found here)

While I don't truly think they're the exact same character, I believe that what we've seen of them so far suggests that we are looking at two characters who, in their heart of hearts, are very similar in terms of their inner selves and motivations, but who are nonetheless being set up to walk two very different paths.

So how are they similar? We've seen so far that Gwen and Sam are both

goal-oriented

hardworking

stubborn

temperamental (Sam less openly, but it's there)

petty (not as obviously as Alice, but it's soooo there)

curious

seeking validation for their work/pursuits/questions

not in the career/field they had aspired to be in

under tremendous pressure from their families (Gwen's has not been directly addressed, but what we know of the Bouchards and and Gwen's comments about her 'friend' circles seems to suggest this)

driven (Gwen towards power/recognition, Sam towards understanding - both of these tie into that need for validation)

barely holding it together

more sensitive to teasing than they let on

imposter syndrome? (this one may actually be a stretch but all of the above similarities strongly suggest this one)

Of all of the above traits, "curious" and "seeking validation" are the two that I feel are Sam and Gwen's strongest motivators right now - and were also the source of their conflict in episode 18. They are, of course, pursuing answers to their own questions without realizing that, in this case, they are the ants seeing separate parts of the massive and horrible mystery that is pushing into their lives.

Sam's path has him looking out as he seeks to learn more about The Magnus Institute and about the catalysts and victims of the cases they get at the OIAR. Gwen's path has her looking up, as she questions the role the OIAR plays within the government/society, how it is structured and managed, and what employing literal monsters has to do with it all.

In an ideal world, Sam and Gwen would team up to be like the supernatural Wonder Twins. If they're able to see past their misunderstandings and the walls they've put up, I think they could actually get a lot done - but I worry that their insecurities, ambitions, and lack of validation at the right times/in the right places will push them further away from the best possible allies they have: each other.

(If you're fanfiction inclined, I've actually explored some of these team/friendship dynamics in my fic "Pieces of You." Part 2 continues to explore how Sam and Gwen interact when they are seemingly in opposition)

I do think there is a very good chance that both Sam and Gwen end up in difficult, morally challenging, or outright evil situations as a result of their need for understanding, recognition, and validation. I've seen a lot of folks suggesting that Sam could become "avatar-ized" or willingly take on The Powers of the Horrors in order to finally "live up to the potential" that he perceives himself as having been denied when he was rejected from The Magnus Institute. As for Gwen, I think (hope, pray) that her own insecurities and need to prove herself could lead her right into the claws of Lady Mowbray, someone that she has already defended in front of Lena simply for being of a higher echelon, and who has already given Gwen a level of recognition that she did not expect but clearly craves (when Lady M asks about her family line). Of course I would be tickled pink if they both got over themselves, communicated, and worked together to overcome (or at least understand) The Horrors!

Anyway, I know this ended up being more of a Sam and Gwen rant, but I hope you enjoyed, and thanks again for asking!

[animusicnerd]

Dialogue prompt 4 with Lilia please!

Sweater Weather Event

☾ Pairing: Lilia x Gn!reader

☾ Dialogue Prompt 4: "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

☾ Notes: Lilia Vanrouge, my beloved. That is all and thank you for requesting him.

Whoever decided that it would be fun to knock on your door at three in the morning was going to have another thing coming to them. 

You were peacefully asleep in your bed. Grim wasn’t moving around as much so his grubby little paws weren’t digging into your sides for once. The ghosts had quieted down for the night, tired from their tasks for the day. It was peaceful and quiet for once in Ramshackle until that furious knocking on your door, startled you awake. You weren't sure how Grim didn't wake up but the ghosts ended up being the ones informing you to get the door so they could sleep as well.

So, after hesitantly wondering if you should just ignore it in favor of your warm bed, you decided to get up after the knocking got worse.

When you finally got to the front door, you wrenched it open, fully ready to interrogate whoever wanted to bother you at this hour but stopped in your tracks as soon as you saw Lilia. He stood in front of your door, hands behind his back, and a smile on his face. He wasn’t wearing his school or dorm uniforms and instead, exchanged them for a loose pair of sweats and a hoodie. He was quiet and eerily calm.

Usually, the vice-dorm leader would go off on some type of tangent once you opened the door or give you some type of greeting but he didn’t. He just stood there, looking at you with what seemed to be relief in his eyes. 

“Uh, why are you here?” you finally asked, breaking the silence between you two.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay.” He leaned in closer. Red eyes scanned you from your fuzzy slippers to your ruffled pajamas and after a look of satisfaction crossed his face, Lilia pulled back. “That was all.”

You furrowed your eyebrows. That’s what he came here for? Granted, Lilia popped over (literally) for less but never to check if you were just okay. It was usually for a favor or something along those lines. Maybe he had a nightmare? But then again, you doubted he did as he told you that he stays up all night playing video games. 

“Do you want to come in and talk about it?” you asked, your voice raising in uncertainty. At the sound of his chuckle, you stumbled, “You- you don’t have to. I- um,  just thought that maybe it’s something you wanted to talk about.”

Lilia grinned, showing off his fangs, as he leaned closer to your face. “Oh? Worried about me?” he teased. Heat rushed to your cheeks and it seemed to show as the Fae in front of you leaned back, still smiling. “Well, since you’re so worried about me, I’ll accept the offer, my dear.”

[mechdyke]

YES!!! YES HE WENT ON SALE AGAIN! I FINALLY WILL HAVE HIM IN MY GRUBBY LITTLE PAWS.

[tumbleweedtech]

Fringilla x Roche

Rated: E (Now on ao3!)

Fringilla sighed. She had done many things for the Lodge over the years. Seduction, spying, murder. While Ban Ard may look down on Aretuza's body modifications, even those crusty old men were fallible enough to fall for carefully trained whims of a sorceress.

But she didn't know why Sheala wanted more information about some filthy squirrels. And she really didn't know why this grubby, aging commander was apparently the way to get the most up to date and accurate information on their leadership. What made it worse was the man just wouldn't talk - none of her usual tricks worked, so she resorted to simple seduction.

It was boring, listening to him grunt and she covered a wince by moaning as he twisted her nipples inelegantly. The man fucked like he had been given a battle maneuver to follow.

He was a siege engine, rubbing his still mostly soft cock against her cunt. His balls slapped lazily against her ass, and he smelled of days old sweat. The face he was making was unpleasant, and apparently he'd never learned how to put his mouth to proper use.

How was she ever going to get him to talk? His grimace as he pawed at her was tiring, so she pushed him away, pressing his hands above his head until he gripped the heavy curtains that surrounded the bed. Fringilla fondled his cock, half hard and clearly having trouble getting into the groove of tonight's expectations. She straddled him, finding herself pleased to watch his hands flex as he stared at her breasts. "You know, I've fucked some of your friends, Commander." He didn't appear to like his rank in bed, having frowned and complained before. Call him Vernon, he insisted. She would not.

Phillipa was always better at faking affection. Fringilla found she had other priorities at the moment as she fiddled with the chain she'd made him keep on. It hung long and heavy now that it wasn't held in place by the small fasteners on his gambeson.

It was ugly, like him. She picked up the medallion with the lilies, as she ground her hips against his cock, just hard enough that it was a pleasing sensation that sparked pleasure through her core. Perhaps the man wasn't entirely useless? Fringilla raked her nails down his chest as she sought her own pleasure, arching her back and fully aware she made a beautiful sight. "Geralt spent months with me. We fucked on every surface of my chambers, and plenty other places." She watched his face, as he listened to her words, uncertain where she was going with this. "Do you know what I was surprised, and quite delighted to find he enjoyed?" His eyes finally stopped watching the rhythmic bounce of her breasts as she'd caught his curiosity. "He wanted me to fuck him. Right up the ass, with this beautifully carved phallus. He loved it if you pulled his hair and called him pretty. What about you, Commander? Would you like it if I bent you over that desk and fucked the stupid out of you?" There was no mistaking the way his eyes darkened at the idea. "It makes me wonder, if those witchers got up to the same thing we did in Aretuza. You pile a bunch of hormonal teenagers together in a dormitory, there's bound to be a little experimentation. What about you, Commander? When did you discover how nice it was to have a nice thick cock shoved up your arse?" He flushed, "They frown on fraternization within ranks." "Ah. So no blue stripe orgies, then. What a shame. Is that why Foltest's dog chases squirrel tail so keenly, then?" The commander flinched full bodied, then. A hit. Perfect.

"You do, don't you? Do you have a favourite? I personally detest rape, Commander. Are you that sort of man, who takes more than he should in spoils of war?" He moved fast, and gripped her hips hard enough to bruise. "Never."

"But you do have a favourite?" She petted his chest, flicking gently at his nipples, dragging her nails gently down his sides before he relaxed enough that she could shift her hips subtly. "Those elven women are beautiful. Small hands - have you ever had an entire fist up your ass? Incredible experience. Or do you prefer just a standard flesh and blood cock? I've heard those elves tend to run a bit small, I'm not sure how satisfying that would be." His face twisted, and was clearly done listening to her talk as he shoved a hand between them, his thumb pressed the wrong side of too hard, making her hiss and flinch back. Had this man ever fucked a cunt before? He was clumsy and rough, and - ah. "What's his name, Commander? This one you'd have fuck you. Do you dream of it, when you're sleeping in the forest?" She leaned close, and whispered in his ear, pitching her voice lower. "Do you wonder what he looks like under his armor? Or have you seen him? Have you spied on him, sneaky and silent, as he washed? Maybe he caught you. Maybe he held you down, and called you the filthy dog you are. Would he fuck you? Or would you fuck him?" His grip was near painful on her hips, but he was lost in the fantasy as he quickly grew to not a shameful size in hardness. She was pleased to have prepared before gracing him with her presence. So many men she'd been sent to seduce treated an asshole no different than a cunt, attempting to just shove the cock in. She'd planned on playing at pain if he seemed into it, but his dick was covered in her own dampness and leaking quite heavily... If she broke the fantasy now to fetch the oil she wasn't sure she'd be able to hold it again, so she pressed forward, curving her hips and reaching back to guide him. "Fuck me like you'd fuck him, Commander. I won't break. Maybe I'll leave your bed, covered in your cum and go find him and fuck him too. Does he even like dick?" She did her best not to hiss as the head of his cock pressed against her asshole, breaching slowly. It was more slick than she'd expected but she still privately lamented the lack of oil. Her knees were starting to get sore, however, so it was time to hurry things up. "Maybe he's laughed at you, so slow to get it hard. Even while you slavered over my tits you were soft. Does he call you names, or does he call you Commander? Maybe you're nothing but a son of a bitch-"

She couldn't stifle the gasp of pain as he yanked her down, shoving his hard cock fully inside. "Whore. He calls me the son of a whore." He punctuated every word with another bruising, driving thrust, and Fringilla knew she'd feel this coupling for days after, but the pain eased fast as he pummeled her. There was no angle for her own pleasure here, but she'd finally gotten him talking so she dragged her nails up into his hair and pulled. "So fuck him, you whoreson. Scream his name, then. Maybe he'll hear you and come running. Would he save you from me? Or would he join us? Have you ever done that, Vernon?"

His hips stuttered as she dropped her voice into a sultry whisper. Geralt had liked "secrets" too. Men were so predictable. "I've taken two cocks at once before. It's delectable. Would you rather him fuck my cunt as you were buried deep in my ass? You would feel his dick inside me," She pressed her fingers against his stomach, feeling his muscles flex. "like this. Not touching. But stroking, so close" He groaned, and she thumbed at his nipples, twisting and plucking them gently as she continued telling him secrets he desperately wanted to hear. "Or maybe, he would want to fuck my asshole too. He could get the lubricant off the desk. And he could slide right in next to you. It'd be like he was fucking you directly, his spend mixed with yours, his dick right against yours. Call him, Vernon. We could fuck him together, right now. Maybe he'd even let you fuck him after. Maybe he'd call your name in bed." She ground into him, raked her nails down her chest as hard as she could, and cried out in as deep a register as she could manage "VERNON" It was more than he could handle, and he threw his head back, shouting startlingly loud, "Iorveth!" as his hips stuttered and he spent deep inside her. They panted, and he hissed as she shifted off of him, his soft cock now overstimulated, but he made no move to fetch a cloth. She wanted to be surprised at how thoughtless a lover he was, but he simply rose, ambled to the chamber pot to piss, dropped the ugly chain on the bedside table and promptly fell asleep. Fringilla sighed. She'd intended to rest the night here, but that was clearly not happening. So she finished pissing and cleaning herself before she dressed and silently padded out. She had a squirrel to find, that was apparently named Iorveth. He likely had the information Sheala wanted, and if Fringilla was lucky, she wouldn't have to fuck it out of him.

[deadm0ss]

Ahhhh for danger days 12th anni i finally remade my old killjoy sona!! 

I like to imagine he’s similar in age to val or the girl and he’s just there vibing painting anything he can get his grubby paws on. He may be dead , he may not, it’s up to time for if I let him I didn’t draw it but I also think he’d have a shitty razor scooter that he hits draculoids with.

[katherinewilliams221b]

Our Time To Bloom

Chapter 1: Imogen Elopes

All Chapters - Masterlist

Summary: Two months after the war, the couple is more distant than ever. Kate accompanies her grandfather on a trip to Ireland, where her past and present will collide in unexpected ways. Charlie stays in Romania with a decision to make: will he follow her and uncover all unsaid things? Romance/Drama /Mystery

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Charlie Weasley/Kate Williams (hphm mc, original female character) established relationship

1930, Cobh, Ireland

It had all started with a damned letter. Fiona, corpulent, raven-haired and matriarch of the Walsh family, had been training her owls in the barn when one of them arrived with the mail. All her children were in the house and their excited screams had alerted her to the event. Once again, and for the sixth time in a row, a letter from the School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Hogwarts, was arriving in the mailbox to state that one of Tadgh and Fiona Walsh’s children had been admitted.

Bernard stood at the top of the kitchen stairs, hidden in the shadows, with his striped pyjamas and a wooden train carriage under his arm, listening intently to the argument taking place at the table.

“What will they do with our babes there, eh? Dress them in the same clothes and force them to stay away from their families for a year. That’s unacceptable.”

“Tadgh, try to understand. This is the sixth letter we’ve received. They accept all of them, and when Bernie and Seán show any signs of magic, I’m sure they will receive theirs as well. It’s a huge opportunity…”

He heard sighs and pots and pans, the sound of the newspaper being opened, the creak of the cupboard door and liquid being poured.

“Are we going to fight every time one turns eleven?” His mother said in a tired tone.

“No child of mine will go to Hogwarts. And that’s my final word, Fiona.”

“Well, I’m not finished!”

“The Kenmare Kestrel are playing this Sunday.”

“Cornelia deserves a proper school, more friends her age to open her mind and explore new possibilities. Just like our other nine children. Stop reading the paper!”

“It’s too dangerous! Don’t you understand?”

Arms wrapped around him from behind, and he was about to scream if it weren’t for a hand that prevented him from doing so. He kicked with his bare feet for his older sister to release him from her grip, but was unsuccessful.

“For an eight-year-old, you have a lot of strength.” Walsh’s second oldest daughter whispered to him. “Come on, you must learn not to meddle.” Muireann carried her little brother up the stairs to the alcove, where the beds of the 3 younger brothers Brian, Bernard and the youngest Seán were located.

“Let go of me, you filthy slug!” whined Bernard as he stuck the toy train in her back. Seán came out from under his sheets to find out what was going on and immediately sat up to go to his brother’s side. “We didn’t read anything today...” reproached Bernard to his sister shyly once he set him down on his mattress.

“That! You said you’d help us with Grumble the Grubby Goat today!” Seán pointed out as he tried to pry the wooden train out of Bernard’s hands. Muireann sighed.

“I know what I said but look at everything that’s happened... Pa and Paddy are so busy in the workshop they’ve even asked me to come along, I’ve spent the morning polishing broomsticks, I’m still learning how to apparate and Ma’s asked me to take 3 of her owls to Cork... and Imogen was supposed to do that but she’s nowhere to be found.” Bernie and Seán listened to her intently. They both looked at each other with a knowing smile.

“We know where Imogen is...” sang Bernard with amused eyes. His sister watched them as they laughed together. “She’s down at the river with O’Carroll’s nephew.” He confessed to her in a whisper.

“The Muggle who sells eggs at the market?” They both nodded. “And how did you little monsters know that?” They both laughed and hid together under the covers, kicking and pawing to keep their sister from uncovering them.

“We’ve seen them, haven’t we Brian?” Muireann noticed him for the first time and went over to tuck him in. He turned with a grunt and a shy “yes.”

“You know perfectly well that you can’t leave the grounds of the house except to...”

“To go to classes!” Completed Bernard, “but it’s just that we saw them there, but Imogen didn’t walk us home! She went to the other side of the woods...”

The brothers’ smiles faded as they saw their sister’s worried face. Without a word, she went about blowing out the candles and carried Seán to his mattress and then tucked him in. “Don’t let them find out that you’ve biked back alone from Marlogue.” She chortled once everything was dark. “Good night.”

“Good night, Muireann!” the three brothers repeated at the same time.

As soon as the door closed behind his sister’s skirt, Bernard darted for the small window that let in a shaft of moonlight. He hung as best he could on his forearms to inspect the driveway to the house. Imogen had not yet arrived.

“Bernie! You’re going to get caught!” Whispered Seán.

“Yeah, because of you! Don’t talk!”

He climbed down from the window and tiptoed over to the door, sticking his ear against it. Way clear.

He crept out into the hallway and managed to make his way down to the second floor, avoiding the rotten step. Before he could continue down to spy on his parents again, he heard a groan coming from one of the doors. He waited, unmoving, for fear of being discovered for the second time that night, but there was no one in the hallway.

He approached the door with a green ribbon on the knob and heard someone sniffle.

“Lili?” he mumbled as he turned the knob. Cornelia and Jane, two of the middle sisters, shared a tiny room that only held two small beds. Jane used her numerous storybooks as a small table to support a candle that barely lit the room. While she was reading, Cornelia was bursting into desperate tears.

Forgetting his mission of espionage, Bernard rushed to his older sister’s bed to succor her. “Lili, what’s wrong?” he asked as he sat up, crossing his legs.

Holding her handkerchief tightly, Cornelia managed to calm herself so she could talk. “Pa won’t let me go to Scotland.” The three siblings heard the door creak again and held their breath.

Seán’s little head popped up with a remorseful expression. He closed the door and climbed onto Jane’s bed with difficulty. “Pa says we all have to study at Marlogue. That they won’t teach us useful things at school.”

“And what would he know? If he’s never been to school...” Jane pointed, pushing her blonde curls away from her face.

“That’s what I told him, but he got mad and now he’s yelling with Mam downstairs. And then I told him that I want to be an alchemist when I grow up, like Aunt Arabella, and that they don’t teach me alchemy in the forest, that I have to go to school.”

“What is Al-che-mis, Lili?” asked Bernard, pronouncing the word for the first time.

“It’s a person who studies ancient magic and properties of the elements.” She recited the definition from memory. “And they teach it to you in school.”

Bernard looked at his sister with wide eyes, wondering if, perhaps, in a few years his father would forget that he didn’t like school and he would have the opportunity to go to that place his sister talked so much about but which none of the people in that house had ever seen with their own eyes.

“And what’s it like?” Seán asked in a whisper. Cornelia’s face lit up for an instant, but she brought her eyes to the door nervously. She climbed off the bed and ducked under it, dragging her white nightgown along the wooden planks. From under the mattress, she pulled out a crumpled sheet of parchment which she unfolded once she had climbed back into bed.

It was a pencil drawing of a castle with two smiling people in front of it.

“It’s a huge castle, very very old, it has ghosts and creatures from all over the world!”

“Like dragons?” Seán moved closer to inspect the drawing, treating it as an accurate blueprint of the place she was describing.

“Yes. And sea monsters, too.” Jane gasped at her sister’s description.

“That’s why Pa doesn’t want us to go; it looks dangerous...”

“Well, when the letter comes to you, you tell him you don’t want to go, so he’ll love you more...” her sister attacked.

Bernard tugged at her nightgown to get her attention.

“Maybe we can change his mind if he sees how much you want to go.” Cornelia shook her head, eyes filling with tears again.

“He wouldn’t even let Imogen go, and she’s the oldest of us all...” pointed out Jane.

“Nor Paddy... and he’s very smart.” Seán whispered.

Bernard was thoughtful; Cornelia was very good and very clever, (not as smart as Muireann, but that was because Ann was so much older), she always left him her pencils, and gave him part of her breakfast if he was hungry. She always taught him the words she learned in her Circle in the woods, even if they were for grown-ups, and she never tattled when she saw him up on the roof of Mom’s barn.

If any child in the Walsh family deserved to go to Hogwarts School, it was Cornelia.

“Come on!” said Bernie, jumping out of bed.

“No! It’s no use. Besides, in the letter it said I need... a lot of very expensive things, and also a wand, and of that we don’t have.”

“Let’s send a letter to Aunt Arabella! I’m sure she has things you can use.” Bernard insisted. “Wait here!”

Not caring that it was nighttime, and he was supposed to be in bed, Bernard ran upstairs holding onto his pyjama pants, reached the alcove, and dropped to his knees in front of the window with a resounding thud. He ignored Brian complaining about the noise and carefully lifted the wooden board in front of him. He rummaged through the dust, fumbling with a jar, his nail with a weird symbol on it, a piece of candy he was saving for a special occasion, and finally his little cloth bag.

Leaving everything in its place, he clutched the pouch and stopped dead in his tracks.

Even from the alcove, he could hear his father roaring in the kitchen.

Imogen had arrived home.

In the blink of an eye, the whole family was awake and attentive to what was about to happen. Bernard and Brian went downstairs to join their siblings on the second floor, and sat next to Seán, peering through the bars. Cornelia and Jane watched from above. From there, they saw Muireann, Adeline and Collin watch from the second floor staircase and they all heeded Paddy, who from the hallway leading to the kitchen, pointed his finger at them to keep quiet.

“And what’s that supposed to mean, Imogen?”

“Well, what I told you, Ma, that we’re getting married.”

Bernard’s eyes widened, and he covered his mouth with the palm of his hand.

“And what are you going to live on? He hasn’t got a job and neither have you.”

“He does have a job!” the older daughter defended herself, “And I’ll work with him. His parents have already told him the farm will be his.”

Fiona sighed. Bernard could picture her looking up at the sky as she always did when she got upset, and his father as red as a tomato.

“The last thing we need now is for you to run off with the first lad you meet because you don’t want to work in the workshop!” His father accused.

“Nobody wants to work in the workshop!” his daughter shouted as her mother tried to calm her down. “What do you think? That Patrick would rather cut broom hairs instead of being in the harbour, which is what he likes?”

“Leave your brother out of this, Imogen, we’re talking about you going off with a boy we don’t know to a family we don’t know.” Stated her mother in a serious tone.

“It’s Finn O’Carroll, Mum.” 

“A Muggle!” shouted her father, growing increasingly angry, “You are minimally aware, kid, of how dangerous that is? The blood supremacist groups, the attacks everywhere...”

“That maniac is behind bars. He won’t do...”

“He’s free, Imogen!” her father blurted out, to suddenly lower his voice and whisper loudly, “and there’s an anti-Muggle group here in Cobh! We saw them hanging around the store. So don’t tell me you’re going to put yourself in danger just for that lad, because I will not allow it.”

What was said next in that kitchen, Bernard didn’t get to hear. He saw his sister’s jet hair rush past Paddy, only to return with the same rage, heard the shouts of his parents calling for her to come back and the kitchen door opening and closing loudly.

And in that stony silence left behind by Imogen, Bernard wondered if that had been the last time he would see his sister.

Gradually, the whole family dispersed after the heated event in the kitchen and each Walsh sibling disappeared into their rooms. All except Bernard, who remained glued to the banister and stroking his little cloth bag.

This was their chance. They couldn’t say no.

He slipped downstairs, knowing that only his mother was in the kitchen making tea, as his father had gone after Imogen in a fit of rage. He plucked up his courage and stepped out of the darkness of the hallway so that the light from the kitchen would let him see.

Fiona was sitting, nursing a steaming cup, and was startled to see him.

“Bernie. You should go to bed.” She said seriously, with no room for argument. Instead of replying, Bernard boldly approached with an outstretched arm, handing her the cloth sachet. “And what is this?” she sighed exhaustedly.

Four sickles fell into her palm.

“Mam...it’s for Cornelia to go to school, so she can have a wand.” He said in a whisper.

Seeing that her mother didn’t respond, he began to sway back and forth on his feet. “And… and for books too, if that’s enough. She wants to be al-che-mis, like Aunt Arabella, and see water dragons and... and... and... more things.”

His mother’s eyes glazed over, and Bernard wondered if he should sell his wooden train, perhaps for parts, so he would earn more.

“Oh, my sweet boy.” She held out her arms for him to come closer and wrapped him in a warm but tight embrace. And as he caught his breath and shook off his mother’s grip, something wet touched his nose.

It wasn’t her tears, they couldn’t be that cold. Fiona looked up and then at her second youngest son, who, from one moment to the next and driven by the upsetting feelings of that night, had caused fine snowflakes to fall on them. “Oh, Mo stoirín.” She sighed and crushed him in her arms again.

Bernard, not quite understanding what was going on, let himself be protected in that embrace, thinking about whether perhaps he should save a lot more for when his own letter arrived.

--

Next Chapter>

A/N: Take this as a prologue which you can skip, but maybe return to it if you engage with the story later on. Every flashback to the Walsh family is key to understand not only Kate’s grandfather’s actions but also the mystery that unfolds. I don’t know how consistently I will upload, I have 4-5 chapters but posting it is a good incentive to get back to this story.

If you want to be on the tag list let me know!

Let’s start this new adventure <3

Tag List:

[embarasseddragon234]

Got any more tired dad duckula au headcanons?

This ask is like, years old by now and I doubt the person who asked is still waiting for an answer, (but, if you ARE reading this I am so sorry ) but I'm gonna use this as a jumping off point to share the headcanons I've been concocting

So, headcanon time!

But first, a changed headcanon! I've decided that Duckula and Goosewing are actually Violet and Lena's (great) uncles in this Au! ^-^ Because I realized I really liked the idea of Goosewing having more family that doesn't disown him for marrying a vampire.

So one of Violet's dads is Goosewing's nephew! I haven't figured out which one yet, but it's a win-win for me, the whole Duckula/Goosewing family gets more people who love and appreciate them, and I get two more underdeveloped characters to sink my grubby little paws into! ^-^

Now for new headcanons!

-Goosewing and Junior play chess together on the regular, whether either of them are any good or not is entirely up to you, it just makes them feel smart(I like to think they make up their own rules on the fly)

-Lena and Duckula first bonded over having family members who would much prefer them to be evil and/or dead

-Related to that, Igor has chilled out considerably since the series and Junior was born, Duckula thinks it's because Junior IS interested in villainry, or maybe that Igor's just biding his time until Duckula dies and can be reincarnated again.

-The real reason is that, well, it's so much more LIVELY when the whole family's around, not that he'd EVER admit to enjoying something like that, of course

-Lena calls Duckula her second favorite uncle

-She calls Uncle Donald her first favorite uncle, mostly to mess with Duckula

Duckula: But-but- he's not your. . .?

Lena: Uncle Donald's like, everyone's favorite uncle, you can't fight it. You'll understand once you meet him.

Duckula: ????????

-He didn't pick up on the fact that she was messing with him, but either way, he DOES understand when he finally meets Donald.

-Lena doesn't ACTUALLY have a favorite aunt/uncle, but if she had to choose it'd be Vanna, obviously.

-Junior's obsessed with "normal" life the same way people are obsessed with the supernatural

Junior: Did you know that most people DON'T live in an old castle?"

Duckula: Your uncles don't.

Junior: I KNOW! Isn't that SO COOL! Vati! Isn't it cool!

Goosewing: Hehehe, Ja mien Schatzi, it is.

-He ADORES soap operas and sitcoms. He also thinks that's how non-supernatural families actually act, which causes problems, though I'm not sure what kind

-Duckula calls Junior "Little broccoli" much to his chagrin

Junior: I'm not a broccoli!

Duckula: Hehe, Well, we found you in a broccoli patch and you came out all green, that makes you my little magic broccoli!

Junior: Daaaaaaad!

-It doesn't ACTUALLY bother him, but if he lets up the cutesy nicknames would never cease

-Things Duckula has called his kid

Little broccoli

Pumpkin

Sweety

Little sprout

Duckyboos

Duckling

Ducky

Sweet baby boy

Prince

Princeling

Schatzi(little treasure)

Baby

Junior: Vati! Dad's picking on meeeee!

Goosewing; I'm sorry mein kleines Entlein

Junior: Vati NO!

-Goosewing tends to stick to a couple more common endearments, albeit a couple from three different languages (German, Romanian, and English), that he translates willy nilly

-(I am not at all sure about the non-English endearments, and I couldn't really find any Romanian ones, at least not ones I was sure were used for family members. So if anyone who actually speaks either of those languages want to give me some tips, go for it)

-Junior gets bored with Danger Mouse not too long after DM discovered he was a teenager, because while it's amusing to try and get DM fired for assaulting a minor, it won't really make him FAMOUS.(He actually realizes that it might make DM MORE famous, which is the opposite of what he wants) So he sneaks the castle off to Duckburg while everyone else is asleep to try and find some new ideas

-Junior meets PK and immediately decides he wants to be a superhero.("Superheroes are always like, SUPER popular right?" He hasn't thought this through very much. This is why you never make decisions at 3 in the morning) So he starts following him around calling himself his sidekick

-PK is. . . extremely concerned by this.

PK: You're like. . . 13? Where are your parents?

Junior: I'm 15! Why does everyone-! GAH! Whatever! ANYway, my parents are asleep, DOI, where ELSE would they be, out clubbing?

-This answer, while true, certainly doesn't make PK LESS worried, he starts assuming Junior's an orphan or something, and decides to keep him from getting himself killed playing hero

-(On that note, there's definitely an Au of this Au where Junior IS a reincarnation of 80s!Duckula, gets separated from the castle somehow, and gets adopted by Donald. Because that would be both hilarious and adorable)

-Eventually someone notices Castle Duckula showing up on the outskirts of Duckburg and Danger Mouse shows up. Not really sure how that goes down yet, but there are definitely hijinks involved

[ashenwinds]

     Anonymous sailor sent a message in a bottle. . .

send TRICKED for a scene from my muse's past in which they misled, tricked, or lied to someone

                ↪   GLIMPSES OF THE PAST

     Arms stretch over their head, basking in the waning warmth of the setting sun, as their feet lightly sink into the sand of the outpost. Finally, after months of being stuck at the fortress until properly assessed and trained, they were unleashed to the Sea. Given no particular task but to acquaint themself with the Sea -- having one who is known as Kevahn accompany them for a bit. Kevahn himself stays away from the Outpost, since very few are comfortable with a skeleton.      However, Chi has a purpose to be on this particular outpost, “ Let's see. . . ” the dark eyes scan over the tents, watching a few pirates step out from the dark purple tent with a few bags of gold, a solo one lugging a bunch of chests off her sloop. Well, the perfect target. . .      Their steps are casual, heading over to the water's edge before giving a sharp whistle to get the other's attention. She turns like somebody fired a shot at her, wide eyes staring at Chi as they rest a hand against their hip, “ Looks like you could need a bit of help there. ”      Her squint of suspicion is valid. One cannot trust a pirate, “ What makes you think that? ” She nearly trips when trying to carry the large Captain's chest to the edge of the ship -- he face going a bit red.       “ That right there, ” they muse, stepping closer before showing their hands that no weapon is at the ready, “ A lot of loot for a single pirate. ” A glance, noticing that there are a few skulls mixed into the goods, some chalices and golden, ornate caskets. She must have been sailing for days to get all of this. Perfect for what they need. . .      Chi puts on a charming smile, the same they had used before when sailing outside of these waters -- a facade to hide the ill intentions, “ I don't care about any of the money, but the longer you struggle like this, the more eyes you'll draw. . . and they might not have as kind of intentions as I do. ”      She hesitates for a moment before her shoulders deflate, “ Alright, fine. But not a coin goes to you. ” Even those words do not sound confident, “ Name's Lily. ”      With the confidence to match the Pirate Lord himself, Chi is already up the side of the sloop and landing next to her -- watching Lily step back sheepishly. She is maybe an inch shorter than them, which is odd to find, “ Chi. ” The stare at them does shift when they easily pick up one of the chests and toss it over the side. She gawks for a moment longer, surprised by their strength considering their build.       “ So. . . why are you on the outpost? I know the other ships and their crew, so where's your ship? ” Lily picks up a few of the smaller trinkets and adds them to the pile. Poor curious pirate, she should learn not to ask so many questions, unaware she is just being used, unaware of the extra chest that gets slipped in by a skeleton.       “ Eh, my crewmates are off at a dig that I didn't feel like doing, ” a simple excuse, the last chest thrown onto the sand before they jump down, “ Doesn't take four people to dig up a chest. ” Lily giggles at that, having to take time to step down the ladder back onto the shore.

     “ So much gold! ” Lily beams as she holds a large pouch of golden coins in her hands, “ All of this for that haul makes it worth it! ” Chi tilts their head slightly, eyebrows furrowing. What a measly amount of gold for all that was sold more like it. Pitiful that she thinks it is a lot when those rats get their grubby little paws on the real treasure, swindling pirates to do all the work and give them scraps.      They hardly pay attention as she continues to go on about the amount, dark eyes focused on the Gold Hoarder -- watching him open up one of the treasure chests. Smirking when he lets out a yelp of surprise and a snake lunges out, biting him on the arm. Greedy idiot.       “ Chi? ” She gives a gentle nudge to their arm, getting their focus on her for a moment, “ Did you hear my question? ” “ Hmn? ”       “ W. . . would you like to join me for a drink? Of c-course, until your crew gets back? ” Oh poor sweet girl. By the time they finished hauling the loot to the green tent, it was only the three of them left to linger near the shore. Others were either nestled in the tavern or heading out for another voyage. Nobody around to get in their way except her.       “ Go on ahead, I need to do something quickly. Order whatever you feel like, ” Chi gives her a gentle push towards the tavern. The blush on her face makes them grimace as she nearly stumbles from joy. When far enough away they hiss under their breath, “ Idiot. ” then heading over to the Gold Hoarder currently writhing on the ground like the worm he is.      The charming expression shifts into a cruel grin, using their foot to close the treasure chest and lock the snake back inside, “ Greedy little vermin, aren't you? Couldn't hear the hissing over your joy for ripping off another pirate. ” He recoils at the sight of them, trying to get out pleads for help, “ I'll be giving you an antidote, don't worry. I need you lucid to give me what I want. ”      The Hoarder yelps out when he is forced onto his feet, being shoved towards the sloop. Since dear Lily will be busy waiting at that tavern, Chi will borrow the sloop for their journey to Kevahn and the galley, “ You have information my Master desires, and I'm going to make you talk. ”       “ I'll never tell you or whoever your so-called master is anything, ” he spits at them, feeling his blood turn cold seconds later as the glare deepens a rather nasty looking throwing knife is unveiled. Not his smartest move, “ We never tell our secrets! ”      Another cry out of him, his head slammed against the side of the ship, cracking against a few barnacles. Chi growling through clenched teeth, “ If I could keelhaul you, I would, but I need you alive to tell me where the Ashen Vault is. ” He opens his mouth to respond, but only given a quick kick to the groin before being forced onto the deck, “ Yes, that one. You may keep your secrets well sealed, but others love to talk. We've got plenty of time to make you talk as well. . . ” Despite their shorter stature, as Chi approaches, the man falls onto his rear and tries to scramble backwards. They emit an aura of terror, tightening the grip on the knife, “ Captain Flameheart will love to hear what secrets you have about that vault. ”

     “ F-Flameheart?! ” They love the fear that rises when people speak their captain's name. Both his and Chi's attention turns when footsteps approach -- Chi's expression remaining the cruel, toothy grin as they stare down at Lily, who is currently mortified.       “ Y. . . you work with Flameheart? ” Lily whispers, “ Did you use me? ”       “ Welcome to dealing with real pirates! If you are stupid enough to think I was doing something out of the kindness of my heart when you know nothing about me, you are the rot that is killing the pirate's life! ” Chi laughs, using the blade in their hand to catch the Hoarder's jacket and keep him pinned to the deck, “ Go enjoy your scraps of money, lest you wish to fight for your ship. ” They pull out another knife, twirling it between fingers. They know how this will go, the girl is too timid, too weak willed to fight back. . .      An eyebrow raises when she takes out her cutlass, setting herself into a battle stance. An impressive shift of confidence, but not enough to sway the tides. She will fail, “ I will fight you. ”       “ Pathetic, ” Chi chuckles low, not waiting a moment before pulling out the other three remaining knives, “ You already served your purpose, but I guess I'll send you on your way to the Ferry, since you are getting in my way. ” As they finish, all four knives are thrown at once, each embedding deep into flesh -- no time for Lily to react before she hits the ground and bleeds out quickly.       “ Now. . . ” They turn back to the Hoarder, the man swallowing hard as the fear returns to his core, “ I have my worth to prove to King Flameheart. Let's make you sing! ”

[scramble-crossing]

6 & 17 for the TWEWY ask game?

6. Favourite Brand(s)?

Tie between Croaky Panic and Tiger Punks :] There will be no aesthetic consistency here. Croaky's goofiness is just so charming, I love the anime man sword I love the maid outfit and the rainbow wig I love Sasai my beloved clown grandma I love how half the pins are just frogs going :p :p :p over and over again, they found peak design and ran all the way home with it. Takeshita Street is my favourite location in neo...probably both games honestly, so I love all the shops there, but nothing will top an off-colour variety store run by a woman who insists that her rainbow afro is 100% natural. Like c'mon what more can you ask for

And Tiger Punks is cool. Punk rules. Can't say I'm into the subculture a la the dress or music, but I am looking respectfully from afar and blowing kisses.

^None of this is based on actual pin functionality btw I have never paid attention to pin brands before and I never will YES this includes Pork City in Another Day I was in the trenches man

17. Character(s) you relate to the most?

I have recently come to the horrifying realization that I have been projecting onto Sho this entire time.

Really, it should have been Neku. It would have been Neku if not for the fact that I watched the anime first and they did my poor boy's arc so dirty that I didnt care about him at ALL until I played the first game a little while later, and by then Sho had already sunk his grubby little paws into my brain and wasn't coming out. With him it also comes down to the fact that I had very little sense of how the series' writing usually treats him (his death in the anime being MUCH more generous than his canonical one for example), so I had high ambitions for him. I was in the middle of the loneliest, most isolated period of my life and instantly latched on to who I thought was a deeply flawed loner trapped in a cycle of self-sabotauge finding happiness and relief through acceptance by the people around him, in true and honest love and companionship. Just...the narrative of being stuck in liminal state for so, so long because you honestly don't believe that there's anything worth breaking out of it for, like a thick, murky-glass box with no light beyond it until one day, miraculously, there's a splinter and then a crack and then through it you can finally see clearly, and realize that there is something out there worth fighting for. It's a hamster wheel it's dead static it's a subtle yet persistent ache like a hole punctured or a tiny gear missing somewhere in your body its loneliness and I felt it so deeply I projected it hard onto Sho and made up a narrative in my head for him that isnt really there...or maybe is, kind of, but not to the degree that I've fabricated for my own personal reasons.

Now I NEED him to be happy and surrounded by friends it's pathological. Loneliness has been such a deep and pervasive pain all throughout my life and for some godforsaken reason I've decided to deal with it through this asshole. Of all characters. It was already bad in neo but then Josh decided to drop the line "Bored again? Or maybe just lonely" and ruin any chance I had and I KNOW I did it on purpose I KNOW he did the little BASTARD-

[k-azzzz]

i am not a person with an active tumblr im barely a person with any active social media and to be funny i would say barely a person but its incorrect i am a person a person with a need to rant abt a tv show i kind of just jumped into bc it looked cool and my brain finally went okay you watch this now so im going to do that i apologize to my one friend who may get a notification of me posting (<3 one of my favs ever)

its a story imagine me in my history class maybe a month ago listening to conversations with involving a teacher who is dear to my heart shes go great i love her first day i told her my name and she showed me a kaz breker pin she had (not where my name came from its far more embarrassing but i absolutely loved it and knew the vibes were good even tho i was having a bad day) so i am listening and the show “interview with a vampire” -2022- is mentioned. teacher and another student chat seems nice has a cool name i think i wrote it down somewhere. jump to idk a few weeks ago i see something vampiric and think of that bc word association then today i see a spoiler tiktok (kinda) for an episode i have not even reached and i am so absolutely enthralled i look up the show and start trying to log into accounts as soon as i am done scrolling. i watch the trailer - i love it - i get confused bc there is an older movie with almost the same name idk if its abt the same thing

i am officially watching the show its great it combines aspects of many of my favorite things and makes me feel how my favorite books made me feel almost before the first episode is over (books notably being fairest, and sharp objects) truthfully idk why the show made me feel that way but it did and i like it. i like this show so much i forgot to mention the utter shock of the first sexual scene in the show and how early it was juxtaposed with remembering how i heard of the show but honestly that is one of the better things to come out of my public school journey.

back to the show its so interesting i feel the need to inhale it but i have to take breaks bc it is too much and, i have bad wifi so it buffers alot. so ive been doing that and trying to keep my grubby paws away from typing things up and looking up spoilers bc i am a person who with loudly say “i love spoilers” because i honestly do but i know in my heart of hearts i shouldn’t for this show because sometimes spoilers just ruin the fun of something even if wanted and this is a show i find insanely fun to consume.

and i get to the 3rd episode and im almost blindsided by the fuckery of the political side characters because of my joy in watching this show and the other drama but when the fuckery catches up to me i am enraged and then filled with thoughts of admiration for this show and the way it did that

all this to say

A MOTHERFUCKER WHO GOT SHIT ON HIS PENIS FIRST EPISODE IS ALL HIGH AND MIGHTY BC WHAT HES WHITE HE THINKS HES SMART - god it takes everything in me not to automatically hate the actor (which i hope he is a good person and a great actor) and wish him karma

ty for your time :)

[doobnnoob-tf2]

but I need to hear more about spy not emotionally recovering over realizing sniper is fucking fit bro, don't hold out on us

damn, you're really twisting my arm here ain't y'all?  (Daniel said, sarcastically, because he can’t not be gay over sniperspy)

✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   ✕   

Spy groaned wearily, the ringing in his ears dulling to a stop as he leaned up on his arms.  He looked up at the nest he’d fallen from, blinking hard to get the spots to leave his vision.  His attempt at taking out the enemy Sniper had resulted in him being kicked out the boarded up window during their struggle.

This wasn’t over, as soon as he got back up there, he’d show that disgusting bushman what for.

The moment he tried sitting up, a blinding pain shot up from his leg through his body.  Spy yelped and laid back, hissing as he slammed his fist down onto the dirt.  Deep breath in through the nose, out slow through the mouth.  Repeat until he had his wits about him and could scan the field around.  No one, dammit.

“MEDIC!”  He cried out, hoping to anyone listening the doctor would hear him and heal him up.  ..nothing, fantastic.  He was just about to roll over and start crawling when he heard faint footsteps.  It would either be an enemy and maybe he could get a mercy kill, or a teammate who could fetch help.

Spy leaned up on his arms again, groaning as he spoke up.  “I need assistance, please!”

The footsteps halted, he could hear whoever it was shuffle to try and figure out his location before finally his team’s Sniper rounded the corner.

“Bloody hell, mate, you look awful.”  He frowned, walking over to assess the damage.

“Thank you for being so observant.  Now how about instead of stating the obvious, you go find out Medic and bring him over here.”

Sniper looked back over his shoulder.  “He’s practically on the other side of the map, Spy.  Someone’ll find you before I even get to him.”  Spy could practically hear him thinking, trying to figure out what to do.

“That’s fine, if someone finds me a trip through respawn will work just as well.”

Sniper didn’t seem to agree.  Instead he readjusted his gear and got down to hook his arms under Spy’s knees and back, lifting him up and looking around.  “Nah, mate, no use’n me botherin’ him.  I go there and drag him back and you’re not here?  He’d skin me like a rabbit.  I’ll just take you to him.”  He started back to where he came from.

Too focused to notice the rather stunned, wide-eyed look Spy was trying desperately to get under control.

Sniper wasn’t that might bigger than himself.  So how in the hell did he just scoop him up like he was nothing!  And even worse, even walking with him he wasn’t even struggling.

No.. even worse, in this position, he could tell perfectly how he was able to do it.  Of course no one would have noticed.  Sniper didn’t shower if anyone else was occupying one of the other stalls.  He always wore some baggy, old shirt with the sleeve rolled up on their off days.  No one ever saw him use the gym in their base.  But that didn’t mean he didn’t keep himself in shape.  And judging by what he could feel, the man certainly did.

Spy was too shocked to say anything.  The urge to shove at him and tell him to unhand him with his grubby paws was right at the tip of his tongue, but the words would not come out.  He actively wanted to hiss and spit and fight like a cat dropped in the bathtub.  But he just couldn’t get himself to do it and instead let himself be carried off in silence.

The moment Sniper saw Medic, he picked up his pace a little.  “Oy, Doc!  Need a heal here!”  And then promptly sat Spy down, helping steady him while Medic took a moment to detach the Medigun from Heavy and heal him up.  And just like that, he was fine, Sniper patted his shoulder and gave him a thumbs up before rushing back off to go rejoin the battle.  Spy just stared after him.

“Herr Spy?  Are you alright?”

Spy snapped out of his trance and quickly got himself together, firmly nodding once before rushing off.

For the rest of the battle - the rest of the day - all he could think about was how Sniper was able to pick him up with such ease.  Every chance he got after that, he kept studying him.  Just looking at him, you’d never think.  Under that loose work shirt, you couldn’t gleam anything from him about his physique.  It was baffling to him to think Sniper might actually have something under there.

Even after retiring to his bedroom for the night, his mind kept wandering back to that moment.  There was just no plausible way Sniper - Sniper! - of all people on the team could just pick him up like that.  And yet he did.  Just scooped him up and walked off.  Just like that.  And the feeling of his arms and chest against him as Sniper carried him to Medic was-

Spy coughed, spitting and sputtering out his mouthwash when he realized just exactly what he was thinking about.  He wiped his mouth and cleaned up the mess and stormed his way to bed.  Enough.  He was done thinking about it!  He’d shut his brain off, go to sleep, and forget it by morning.

..but morning came and he wasn’t done thinking about it.

[a-libra-writes]

Salt & Snow - Chapter 7

Ships: Ned Stark x Reader, Brandon Stark x Reader (~?)

Summary: The Stark children are now considered grown lords and ladies, and must act that way ... a grand feast is coming to Winterfell, and with that, expectations and anticipations. Also, awkward teenagers are awkward.

Use this chrome extension to replace Y/N with a name :)

The sunlight poured through the leaves just enough to help the girls see their way through a thick bundles of trees. They watched for roots and rocks trying to trip them up, but kept most of their attention on chattering. There was no need to worry about keeping quiet in this forest. The birds were out in full, the wind swayed heavy branches, and every so often they heard the distinct rustle of a rabbit fleeing Lyanna and Y/N’s path.

“Just a moment.” Y/N interrupted their talk to set her satchel down and tuck her skirt into the belt tied slightly above her waist. Once finished, she turned toward her companion. “Don’t say a word.”

Lyanna, who had tucked in her skirt the moment they reached the edge of the forest and had the foresight to wear trousers under them, just smirked.

Their riding boots crunched the leaves as they followed a gently worn path. It was quickly being covered by the forest, but Lyanna seemed to know her way. At least Y/N could hear the river in the distance. “You didn’t have to bring me all this way,” She said. “I could have painted back at the keep.”

“That’s no fun though, is it? You must have painted Winterfell a hundred times by now.”

Y/N felt like she could do it many times more, especially now that she felt time was limited. She pushed that thought aside. “I probably have, so this will be a good challenge.”

Plus it was just a beautiful autumn day, and Y/N wanted to be outside. For once Lyanna hadn’t run off to go hunting with her brothers. They were after some boars that had been terrorizing the local hunters and their hounds. Y/N watched Brandon, Ned and Benjen ride off with a few men, laughing about something.

Well, Brandon and Benjen were making japes. Ned took the time to turn and wave goodbye to her.

They pushed past a tight cluster of trees to reach the riverbank. A raccoon stared at them, not bothering to drop the fish carcass in its hand. Y/N decided she was sketching him first. She made herself comfortable, which wasn’t easy, and dug through her satchel for her sketching pad… and what Lyanna was waiting for. With a sigh, she pulled out the training sword and handed it over.

“That was heavy, you know,” Y/N grumbled. “And the blade is too sharp.”

“As it should be!” With renewed energy, Lyanna went to the nearest tree. She sliced off a thin branch and cut another in one swift movement. “I brought a whetstone, too.”

“I don’t recall you shoving that in my bag.”

“I snuck it in while you were mooning over Ned.”

In her indignation, Y/N nearly ruined the little grubby raccoon paws she was drawing. “I-I was not! We didn’t even — I haven’t even talked with him today.” She glared at the returning smirk. “Oh, just go cut up some innocent trees, would you?”

Lyanna didn’t need to be told twice. Y/N heard the sounds of branches cracking and grunts of effort as she sketched the snacking raccoon. It seemed to decide food was more important than keeping a wary eye on her, even with Lyanna making a ruckus. When it finally scurried away, Y/N was content to sketch a bird building a nest.

She was grateful for this opportunity to clear her mind. Winterfell had been buzzing with the upcoming harvest celebration, and she was trying to stay well out of the way of the bustling servants. Lord Stark had attempted to rope Lyanna into planning the gathering by having her write to the Northern houses, stating she’d need such a skill for when she was married Lady. She reacted as well as everyone expected.

That was probably why she was hitting branches and trunks with such ferocity, working up a sweat and startling birds and squirrels alike… and why she didn’t go along with the hunt. She and Brandon had been arguing over the whole affair, with Ned attempting to mediate. Benjen stayed well out of it, and Y/N did much of the same. She felt it wasn't her place, and besides that, she didn't want to think of what else the feast would bring.

Though she initially protested at being dragged around, Y/N was beginning to appreciate being surrounded by the forest. It was far, far quieter. A bluebird caught her attention, and she set her attention to sketching it before it flew off. Then there was a rabbit in the distance, and before she knew it, she was filling her page with all manner of creatures.

That was why she hadn’t noticed the swordplay was growing more distant. Y/N turned with the intent to show Lyanna her finished page, but the girl was gone. Y/N looked all around and called, "Lyanna?"

There were fallen branches scattered about, but that was the only trace. With the birds gone, and the wind settled, the only sound was the river. Y/N frowned and set her sketchpad aside.

"Lyanna!"

No answer. Y/N stood and walked toward a thicket of trees, following a direction that seemed right. The haphazardly cut branches gave way to more even slashes across tree trunks, and a few hacked vines. She called her friend’s name again, with no answer.

I couldn’t have been lost in my own thoughts for this long. Where did she go?

After some wandering about, Y/N finally spotted a distinct dark blue coat in the distance. She huffed with equal parts annoyance and relief. “There you are. Whatever you’re playing at, it’s not clever.”

Y/N walked toward Lyanna, but stopped when she noticed something was off. Lyanna was completely rigid, her hands in front of her, pointing the sword at something — and she hadn’t said anything. Y/N reached to touch her, but stopped, her hand suspended as her body tensed just the same.

In front of them was a large boar, twitching his ears and turning his dark eyes from the sword in front of Lyanna, to Y/N behind her. The beast grunted and began digging his hooves in the dirt.

“Don’t run,” Lyanna said through gritted teeth.

“We should absolutely run!” Y/N hissed back. She didn’t have the nerves to keep her voice down, and to her horror, its head turned in their direction.

“That’ll make it angry. It—”

The boar flattened it’s ears and lowered its head, placing its tusks directly at Lyanna’s sword. She raised it instinctively, and the beast only took that as a challenge. “Shit!”

There was little else to say before the boar dropped its head and charged straight for them. Lyanna yelped and dove to the left, while Y/N fell in surprise to the right. Her face hit dirt, but she scrambled to her feet instantly, knowing it would be death if she stayed down.

She heard the wild boar grunt and bellow behind her, but Y/N didn’t dare look back. She broke into a sprint and fled back toward the river. It was her first instinct: that the boar wouldn’t follow into cold, deep water. How she’d fare herself in such water didn’t occur to Y/N — she could swim, and her clothing was light. She never feared water.

Which way was the river? Her mind raced. She just barely had the wherewithal to leap over a large root, and that’s when she knew for sure that it was chasing her. She heard the boar’s hoof slam against the root and break it.

It was catching up, she knew. She could hear its hooves and and grunts, and her chest was beginning to burn and stab from the exertion. Just a little farther!

She heard boars could outrun any man, and many horses. Y/N instinctively yelped as she felt something brush her leg — the boar attempting to gore her, but barely missing. She side-stepped sharply and let it stumble into a cluster of roots and rocks, buying her a few seconds of time.

Where the hell is the river!?

Running was stupid. She should not have run. Y/N looked around frantically for a tree, but doubted she could scramble up one in time, even with her riding boots. Stacks of boulders caught her attention, leading up a rocky, uneven hill. She all but leaped toward them, grasping at the rocks and pulling herself up.

Her nails dug in and scraped at the stone, and her sweaty palms slid across some painfully, but she ignored it. Y/N let out an instinctive scream when the boar charged at the rocks, and she heard its own hooves scraping at the rocks, intending to follow. It roared after her.

Please don’t let me fall! Y/N screamed a prayer to the old gods and new in her head. With shaking arms and poor footing, she scaled the rocks. While it wasn’t a tall hill, she knew a tumble down would mean the boar or a hard hit to her head. She didn’t have the strength to just hold on and wait, but she didn’t know if she could lift herself all the way up, either.

Y/N’s muscles trembled, but she willed her body and the gods to carry her just a little further. Y/N gritted her teeth and lifted her leg, finding her footing and raising herself higher. There was a clean streak of blood running down her left wrist, so she used her right hand to find a new rock to grasp.

Her frantic heartbeat had been drowning out the sounds of the boar’s tusks hitting the rocks in frustration, but a new sound broke through the panic. For a moment, she thought it was her imagination, yet it was distinct. More hooves breaking through the forest trees, but these were stronger, and faster. One horse? Two?

A hound barked hysterically in the distance, and then a sickening squeal followed. Y/N heard the cracking of wood or bones — who could say — directly underneath her. She gasped as her arms trembled from overexertion and her vision went fuzzy from the same. She was going to fall. Her fingers were slipping.

Y/N clenched her jaw so hard she thought her teeth would crack. There was no stopping the fall. No, no!

Her left hand slipped right off, and her right hand and feet followed shortly after. Y/N fell, and her vision went from grey rocks in front of her to sun breaking through a thick canopy of trees.

Her head hit something hard. That was expected, but she thought it would be worse. Y/N thought she would see stars, or be knocked out, or … Feel more pain, at least. Perhaps she hit the dirt instead. There was pain shooting up her neck and back, but it wasn’t piercing, and her skull wasn’t split open. Probably.

The pain finally came, though it was in her hands and back and lungs, not her head. It took her a moment to realize she was being set upright, and something was around her waist. She heard the sound of a horse again, and then a wet tongue hit her cheek. Y/N shrieked.

“Back! Get away! Call him off, Brandon.” A voice shouted. Y/N finally opened her eyes — not realizing she’d been clenching them tight — and someone’s arm pushed the hunting hound aside. The hound’s mouth was bloody, and Y/N grimaced at the scent of iron that instantly hit her nose.

She tried to get her bearings, starting by looking up. She was met with grey eyes and long brown hair just slightly brushing her cheeks. Her mind tried to catch up with her vision. “Ned?”

Y/N’s confusion only worried him more. Ned gently pressed his fingers against her brow. “Did you hit your head?” She had never heard such an urgency in his voice. Ned was usually the one speaking quietly, and rarely.

She was about to shake her head, but the pain in her neck stopped that motion in its tracks. Y/N felt herself being moved and adjusted, but when she winced, Ned stopped. She realized she was almost sitting in his lap. Y/N looked around carefully, observing the hill — far smaller now that she wasn’t panicked and scrambling up it — and then at him. They were both sitting on the forest floor, a dead boar and an excited hound just a few feet away.

“Did you catch me?” She asked in disbelief.

Ned put his hand on her head, and she flinched, expecting pain. Again, it seemed to come from every other part of her body. He carefully touched around, looking for a wound. “I tried to. I.. Stumbled a bit. Where are you hurt?”

“I… I don’t think there,” She said as he touched the back of her neck carefully. When he withdrew his hand, they both saw there was no blood. She held up her cut palm. “Here. And… maybe my leg. And my arms. I don’t know.”

His grey eyes were serious as he took her bloody palm in his, trying to gauge how deep it was. Y/N felt dizzy, though not from the sight of the wound. She didn’t want to even glance at the boar. The hound began to bark excitedly again, and Y/N looked up to Brandon.

He rode up alongside the corpse, easily swinging himself off his horse and nearly hitting the hound in the process. The dog ducked out of the way, more concerned with the bloody spear in his master’s hand. Brandon swung it carelessly in their direction, an expression of absolute incredulity was on his face. “Y/N, why in the seven hells were you climbing up there?”

His anger took her aback. She went on the defensive. “To get away from that beast, clearly!”

“You ought to have used a tree!” Brandon tossed the spear aside and went to his knees. He also touched her head, though with far less care, and she flinched all over again. Y/N pushed his hand aside, too overwhelmed with exhaustion and pain to be fretted over any longer.

“I’ll remember that next time I’m being chased by one.” She said, harsher than she wanted, but it was hard to be a lady when she thought she was going to pass out. Y/N made a move to stand, but her legs wobbled and betrayed her. Very carefully, Ned held onto her arms and set her back down.

“I’m not — damn it, I was just —” Brandon faltered. He ran his hands through his long dark hair, normally tied back in some semblance of neatness, but it began to fall out of its tie. “You scared the hell out of us, Y/N. We found Lyanna first, and she was talking as if you were tore open and bloodied already!”

Y/N looked down at her lap, ignoring the sorry state of her clothes and her palms. She hated the idea of Lyanna worrying, of any of them fearing for her life. “In my defense,” She muttered, “My first plan was the river.”

Brandon was ready to say something about that, but Ned spoke first. Again, he gently touched her arms, and she felt some comfort from it. At least he wasn’t scolding her, too. “We’re just relieved you’re safe, Y/N.”

She liked the warmth of Ned’s palms, and of his voice. It was still so strange to hear him, even if he’d been here for more than a fortnight. Y/N imagined it when she read his letters, but often, it was the voice of the boy she knew for a short time. She realized they were close, far closer than they’d ever been since he arrived, and it made her a little dizzy — though she chalked that up to the ordeal she’d just been through.

Y/N inhaled a deep breath of forest air, still ruined by the hint of iron, and awkwardly tried to move herself away. Her body instantly punished her for it. She winced as a hot stab of pain ran up her thigh.

“My leg,” She explained when Brandon and Ned shared more concerned looks. Y/N couldn’t see the wound completely because of her riding boots, but she noticed her stocking was ripped and stained. That likely wasn’t mud. “I think its tusk brushed me earlier.”

Ned sighed. “You really have no luck with animals, Y/N.”

The combination of Ned Stark attempting humor for her sake and using her name was so surreal, Y/N let out an involuntary laugh. That was painful too, but she couldn’t help it. She caught the smallest smile from Ned, but Brandon was still annoyed.

“Let’s return to Winterfell at once,” He said. The gruffness in his voice meant there was no arguing. “You could be seriously hurt.”

Honestly, the thought of moving sounded terrible, but a hot bath and sleeping the rest of the day off might be worth it. She wanted nothing more than the safety of Winterfell’s walls. Once her dizziness subsided, Y/N tried to get on her feet again. Ned held onto her waist and carefully lifted her, allowing her to lean hard against him if she needed to. And she had needed it, even if it embarrassed Y/N terribly.

“It’s fine,” Ned said, as though he knew her worries.

“I still can’t believe you caught me.”

“Yes. I, uh, I panicked.”

Brandon crossed his arms and sighed. “I expected something that senseless from Ben.”

Y/N expected it from Brandon, but she didn’t voice that thought, only smiled to herself about it. The eldest Stark was still worried, his expression only looking graver as she took ginger steps. Brandon added, “Your horse ran off somewhere, Ned. The hound startled her.”

“I know; I shouldn’t have dismounted so quickly."

Y/N imagined him jumping straight out of the saddle to catch her. The reaction must have been instantaneous, perhaps done without an ounce of thought for his own safety. “You could’ve hurt yourself, Ned.” She began to chastise, but stopped once Brandon gave her an expression of absolute exasperation.

“You’re both fools,” He grunted. “Come, Y/N. I’ll take you back home.”

Brandon ripped some of his tunic sleeve to wrap up Y/N’s palm, since it refused to stop bleeding. They wanted to wrap her leg, but it was difficult to get at with her riding boot and stockings. Y/N said they ought to leave it for the maester, though Brandon still wasn’t pleased. She sensed the same restless energy as when her horse took off for the forest those years ago, and it made her feel guilty. So, she didn’t fuss when Brandon lifted her on his horse and announced he would take her back. By the careful way he was riding and holding her, Brandon was acting as though Y/N would break any second. Then again, her heart was beating so fervently against her chest, perhaps she might.

Ned fetched the boar spear. The hound was at his heels, though both the dog and the weapon gave Y/N little comfort. She tried not to wear too much worry on her face, instead wrapping herself in Brandon's fur cloak in an attempt to cushion her bruises from the jarring movement of the horse.

After some time of riding carefully, Brandon asked, "Does it trouble you? Your leg?" Y/N said it didn’t, because she didn’t want him to slow his horse, and she didn’t like the anxious, intense way the oldest Stark looked at her. She couldn’t put her finger on exactly when it started, but it was becoming more frequent. Something about the attention felt unnecessary at best, and nerve-wracking at worst.

“We ought to lock you up in Winterfell, since you keep getting hurt,” He said.

It sounded like a joke, but Y/N thought he probably meant it. She only shrugged. “They say something about things coming in threes. This is my second accident, so perhaps the third will be in the Keep.”

“With what? The hunting hounds?”

“Why do you assume it would be animals?” Y/N asked.

"You would find some way to upset a crow and get pecked at."

And in spite of her pain and his overly serious expression just before, they both smiled.

They passed through the Winterfell gates, which felt like passing into safety and home, as it always did. Y/N had long realized her memories of this place far outnumbered the memories of House Caspian’s keep. They stopped before the stables, and Brandon dismounted before carefully helping her down. The deja vu of the situation was not lost on her.

“I should carry you to the maester,” He said, and Y/N vetoed that idea at once. The servants had been hurrying all over the halls as of late, and she didn’t want them to see both her condition and the eldest Stark carrying her about.

“No, I can walk this time.” The growing pain in her back and legs was awful, but she would manage it. The stairs would bad, though. Lyanna could help her get up and down them. “Thank you for bringing me this far.”

He offered his hand. “You shouldn’t be so stubborn. Come, it won’t take long.”

“I’ll be fine on my own.” Y/N said.

Her tone was even, but the pain edging her voice might have made it sound sharper than she intended. Brandon was surprised for a moment, but that was quickly taken by annoyance. “Why do you want to be away from me so badly?"

“It’s not about you, Brandon. It’s about … it’s about what others will think.” She glanced around quickly, wondering if the stablemaster heard his raised voice. “It doesn’t look proper.”

“You almost died again, you can barely walk, and you want to talk about propriety? Who gives a damn what anyone thinks?!"

I do, because I must! The retort was hot on Y/N’s tongue, but this discussion was going on long enough. She needed to do something about her bleeding hand, and her back. “I can still walk, Brandon. Come with me, then, if it matters so much to you.”

The eldest Stark wasn’t satisfied. “It means so much because you mean —”

“Lady Y/N.”

The steady voice made Y/N jump in surprise. She thought he was the stablemaster, and she was ready to make distance between her and Brandon. Maester Walys gave the boy a pointed stare, then turned to Y/N. “I was told you were hurt in the forest.”

“Yes. I — I got into an accident.” She didn’t want to elaborate, so she showed her bloody hand. By now it had made a proper mess on her sleeve and gown. The maester took her palm in his own withered hands and sighed.

“So I heard… Most unfortunate. Come with me. Lord Brandon, your father has need of you."

She allowed herself to be led away, but she didn’t look back. No doubt Brandon was stewing in the snow, melting it with his annoyance. She thought she got along well enough with Brandon when they were children, but since he was grown, he’d become more agitated and impatient. Y/N felt singled out by that attitude — he playfully bickered with Lyanna and Ben, but she seemed to draw out his strange behavior.

Though he did bring me back, and both he and Ned saved me from the boar — tomorrow I’ll give them a proper thank you. Or apology, whatever will appease that difficult boy.

One step into her bedroom, and the familiar warmth and smell was instantly appreciated. Y/N collapsed in one of the chairs, not resisting one bit as her palm was carefully stitched and her body was carefully examined. Y/N was shocked at the ugly bruises that were already forming, though it was her hand Maester Walys kept returning to.

I know you’ll have the sense to wash it and look after it, Lady Y/N, but be mindful not to open the wound. The old man had said. True to his words, she was careful when a maidservant helped lower her into a hot bath. She kept her hand raised, and the girl helped wash her, mindful of her wounds. Apparently, stories of the “terrible accident” had already spread through the keep. The maids were gossiping about how valiantly the Stark brothers had saved them. Even now, as the maid washed Y/N’s hair, the girl couldn’t help but ask questions.

“Lord Brandon must be so strong, to carry you all the way back.” She sighed happily.

“We rode back on horse, but yes. He carried me some.”

She only giggled and asked for more details, completely oblivious of how terrifying the situation was... How lucky Y/N was to be rescued in the first place. How lucky she was not to break her head open when she fell down.

Y/N shivered to think about it. The terror of running through the forest reminded her of the terror of clinging to the horse that ran off. The gods are determined to either punish me, or test me. Or perhaps I owe my unnatural luck to them.

Praying in the godswood was the proper thing to do, but she was aching so terribly, and was so warm from the bath, surely they wouldn’t mind if she put it off until the morning. The maidservant was nothing but gentle in dressing her, and as they entered into the bedroom, Lyanna shot up from her spot beside the hearth.

“We’ve alive!” She declared. “You’re alive!”

Instantly, Y/N put her arms in front of her. “No hugs, you’re sure to break me in half. I feel like I’ve been—”

“Chased by a boar through the forest and thrown off a cliff?” Lyanna stepped forward anyway, very gently putting her arms around Y/N and patting her back.

“I wasn’t thrown, I fell.”

“Yes, and you were caught, thank the gods.” Lyanna stepped back, looking her over once, then again. She dismissed the maid with a smile, then slowly turned Y/N around. “Well, apart from your hand, your gait and a look of utter exhaustion on your face, you look well.”

“Well enough.” Y/N sighed. “I don’t want the rumors getting any worse. Can you believe what they’re saying?”

“I know.” Lyanna crossed her arms. “Father is horribly worried. I had to pretend I was just fine and Ned insisted you didn’t fall that far. Father wouldn’t forgive himself if something happened to his closest friend’s daughter, so we… sort of lied.”

“What did Brandon say? He was there as well.” Y/N didn’t think he’d outright lie to his father, but perhaps he’d omit some details. He certainly liked chatting with the serving girls, too.

“I haven’t seen him, actually. He wasn’t at supper. Oh! Speaking of that!” Lyanna carefully directed Y/N toward the hearth, where a platter of delicious food was waiting. “It’s your favorite! I told them to remove the pork.”

Y/N laughed. “How considerate.” She winced as she sat in the chair, and Lyanna helped cut her food. Y/N held the utensils awkwardly as she ate, trying to find the least painful way to eat. She was even given a flagon of wine for the pain, though it was bitter.

They talked quietly through the evening, both taking drinks of the wine and thinking about the upcoming feast. Y/N frowned as she thought about it, worrying if her body and hand would be healed enough so no one could see, if her gown would cover all the bruises — then she was annoyed she had to hide it in the first place. Foolish, stupid mistake. Why did this have to happen? But it would have been so much worse if he hadn’t —

There was a knock at the door, so quiet that they didn’t notice it. It was the second knock that got Lyanna’s attention. She got up from her cozy spot with a huff. “If that’s the maester, I told him to leave you be…”

Her words stopped when she opened the door. She closed it, turned to Y/N, and grinned. “Don’t mind me. I’ll be outside.”

“Lyanna, what—?”

The wolf-girl darted out into the hall, shoved Ned inside the room, and shut the door.

Y/N and Ned stared at each other for a moment, then a second, and finally she exclaimed, pulling her robe around her. “Wh-what — what is this about?”

If Ned’s long brown hair wasn’t down to his shoulders, she might’ve seen how red his ears were becoming… but there was enough pink on his cheeks for her to see his own embarrassment. He held a satchel out for her. “I was… I was just coming by to bring this to you.”

“What is it? Oh!” Y/N took the satchel, ignoring the pain that shot through her palm. “My sketchbook! And my supplies. Gods be good, I hadn’t even thought about them. You brought them back?”

“It seems I’ve been able to recover something again, though I’m glad this didn’t take so long.”

It was Y/N’ turn to turn pink with embarrassment. She held the sketchbook close, the most important thing the bag was carrying. Leaving it behind would’ve made the day even worse, even if it was only practice sketches. She had some old, beloved drawings in there, ones she’d had for years.

Her heart beat hard against her chest as her fingers squeezed the edges of the leather and paper. No thanks seemed good enough — not just for the sketchbook, but catching her from a dangerous fall. But there was also thanks for writing to her, for being her friend, for always being kind and good —

Ned’s awkward shuffling brought her to her senses. He looked toward the door, and for a panicked moment, she thought he was going to leave.

“I’m still not good at this. I should — I should say thank you. I’m very, very grateful, for … for all of it.” Y/N realized she was babbling, and tried to make her point. Why was this so difficult all of a sudden? It was so, so much easier to write her thoughts.

When Ned didn’t respond right away, she added, “I apologize, I’m just so … I’m so awful at this.”

“At what?” He asked softly.

Y/N gestured with her hands, but that failed her, her hands returned to clasping her notebook. “I feel like an utter fool, you should know. Not just because I got into another accident, but because I seem to have forgotten how to act normally around you. You must think I’ve been avoiding you.”

“Well, I … I assumed you were trying to be polite. Or rather, you had been told to keep your distance.” Ned glanced away, trying to focus on something else in the room. His words took her off guard.

“Did anyone tell you to do that?”

“Lord Arryn tried to, in his way. He only mentioned it in the months before I left. I suppose he thought we would’ve stopped by then.”

“…And your father?” Y/N asked.

“I don’t think he noticed at all, especially once mother died.” Ned chuckled. It was a nervous sound. “Unless he saw the letters you received?”

“He didn’t. It was Lyanna I shared them with.”

Ned blushed outright, and it was Y/N’s turn to laugh. “I didn’t read everything to her. She could hardly sit still through the short passages.”

“Robert was like that. Not to say — I didn’t read passages to him either, I would just mention a few things, and he was already bored.”

“Hah. He sounds like a very interesting person. I’m glad you had a friend at the Eyrie.”

Ned sighed. “Gods know I appreciated it. It was so … quiet up there. And cold, but not cold like this. I never felt alone in Winterfell.”

Because you’ll never be alone here, silly man. Y/N smiled, and sat down beside the hearth. She patted the spot next to her. Ned hesitated, then sat down beside her. He kept an arm’s length between them, but he didn’t feel so far away.

Looking back, it was surprising their correspondence was allowed to go on as long as it did. For Y/N’s part, Lord Stark rarely meddled in how she was raised, especially after Lady Stark died. Yet since Ned returned, the invisible and rigid rules of their society slid into place without either of their input. They were no longer two friends, but the son of a Lord Paramount and the daughter of a minor lord.

And even if no one had explicitly told her, Y/N sensed things would change even more once the harvest feast passed. There was no secret that marriages were going to be debated and arranged; it was the perfect opportunity in a region where travel could be difficult and “courting” was a Southern fancy. She and Lyanna had been tied up with anxiety about it, torn between trying to sniff out the slightest hint about their future and aggressively avoiding any word of what was coming.

It was especially difficult for Lyanna, she knew. Her mother had been married at this age, and her father was Lord Stark. Things were being expected. And for Y/N herself, while she was of a minor house, she could admit to herself that she was pretty and accomplished. Fostering with the Starks meant she was considered to have a connection to them. She was, loathe as it was to admit, a good prize.

Y/N jumped when warm fingers touched her. She stayed perfectly still as Ned’s thumb pressed between her brows. She stared at them, then laughed. “What are you doing?”

“You look like you’re thinking very hard, and you won’t tell me about it,” Ned said. He pulled his hand away just slightly, hesitating as though he would touch her hair — and she wanted him to, gods help her. Y/N felt like she deflated as his hand returned to his side. “It’s not about the boar, is it?”

“No.” She said. “I was thinking about something.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Y/N shook her head. There was no point, and obviously, talking to Ned was something she was becoming increasingly worse at. “I’d rather just… sit here. This is nice.” She absently smoothed out her dress, feeling more and more self-conscious. What a ridiculous thing to say. Y/N looked around for something else to talk about, anything to keep his attention —

“Oh.” Her eyes fell on the worn leather of her sketchbook. “I never… Since you’ve been here, I never showed you my work, have I?”

“No,” Ned brightened. He leaned in, and that’s when Y/N realized he had scooted closer at some point, perhaps when she was lost in her thoughts. “Might I?”

“Um, yes, let me — let me find the best ones.” Y/N began to flip through the old paper.

“I think all of it is better than most I’ve seen.”

Y/N giggled. “What other art do you look at, Ned?”

“Well, there’s the drawings on maps. And there’s some in books.” Ned tried to think of more. “Tapestries?”

“Tapestries.”

He was trying not to laugh. “It’s still art, even if it’s woven.”

“My, you’ve become so sophisticated. It must be all those fancy dances and afternoon teas.”

“I kept to myself when Robert was away, you know that.” Ned said, and it was true enough. Y/N read his letters in amusement, noting how most boys would be wild for knights and tourneys and proper galas. Ned just wanted a wide forest to ride in, and a quiet room to think. He was, more or less, the same boy she’d always known.

“Here, I’m proud of this one.” Y/N showed a landscape, a view of several farms and houses from the top of Winterfell’s walls. Even if she thought highly of it, she felt her cheeks burning as Ned quietly took it in. He didn’t ask questions, and she wasn’t sure if the silence or chatter would be worse. “Um, we can move on to the next page—”

“Is it recent?” He asked suddenly.

“Recent? No, I drew it several moons ago…”

“I know exactly where this is,” Ned tapped his finger gently on one of the houses. “I liked walking that part of the wall. The houses haven’t changed at all. I haven’t been there since I’ve come back.”

Y/N quickly flipped through pages again, avoiding the warmth in his eyes, and how it kept looking from the paper to her. “Y-yes, you should do that. Um. Ah, Lyanna is fond of this one. It’s her favorite palfrey.”

It was hard to tell how long they sat by the hearth, looking through the pages of charcoal and ink drawings. Sometimes there was paint, sometimes Y/N pressed flower petals to get a certain effect. It was hard to stay nervous when he appreciated them so much, taking the time to look and note the effort she put in. Y/N was glad Ned was looking at her work and not her.

She hadn’t immediately noticed when their shoulders were pressed against each other and they were leaning into one another, even if it was giving her some trouble with turning the pages. She glanced at Ned, and hastily looked away when his grey gaze met her’s. Whatever she wanted to say, the words tried up in her mouth. She fiddled with the edge of her dress, even if it made her split palm hurt.

I’m so foolish. She admonished herself. If I could only…

“I wanted to ask you something.” Ned said suddenly. His words came out in a hurry. “You can refuse, of course.”

“What is it?”

“The harvest feast. I wanted to — if it pleases you — I want to escort you.”

Again, his words were jumbled. Y/N took them in, her heart fluttering with each one, coming to a realization. “Me?”

“I-If you wish.”

“Yes! I do wish,” Y/N blurted. “If you could.”

“If it pleases you.”

She laughed. “It does! ... We’re very good at this. Just like in the songs."

Ned’s blush had traveled from his cheeks to his ears. The warm light of the hearth only made it more obvious. “It also means we’ll be each other’s first dance. That’s how it’s done in the South, at least. … Is that still fine with you?”

“Yes, it is.” Y/N smiled. “I wouldn’t want a first dance with anyone else.”

She said such words without thinking, and even as they embarrassed her terribly — and made the both of them look at their hands — she knew it was the right thing to say. The silence that settled upon them would have been uncomfortable for most, but she felt they had little else to say. The silence was warm, and familiar. Eventually Lyanna had to return, but until then, Y/N and Ned leaned against each other, looking through the paintings a second time.