#Vikings Jersey

[chibifox2002]

I had a dream last night about my late Grandpa Ed and Eddie hanging out so I figured it'd be nice to draw them!

[obsessedwithtodoroki]

The Runaway Prince (Jersey Kyle x Goth Stan SoT AU)

Set up/Summery:

Kyle is the crowned prince but doesn’t want to be, and when his parents want to retire and force the crown on him, he snaps and runs away from his kingdom. He wants to actually live life and explore the world before he is forced to stay put forever if he comes back at all.

Stan is a Viking who lives and travels with his friends on their ship as they travel and do jobs for money. When they find the missing Elven prince with a hefty reward on his head at a pub. So they capture him and plan to take him back to the kingdom for the money.

Who knew sparks could fly between two unlikely people in an unlikely situation.

[suki-shen]

New Justin Jefferson Minnesota Vikings Jersey #JustinJefferson #MinnesotaVikings #vikingsnation #vaporfuselimited #LSUTigers #customjerseys

[jb5d]

06 • 06 • 23

[bisexualalienss]

I’m so excited I’m going to the Vikings game Saturday 🥰

[aerikvon]

[goalhofer]

[wordsbyrian]

Bad Days and Zoo Trips - HarderssonKid!R x Niamh and Jessie

Summary: sometimes all it takes to make a bad day a little bit better is going to see your favorite animals at the zoo. (the request was more hardersson x kid!r)

A/N: who wants to guess how many different ideas this started as before it landed on this?

You are having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad day.

It all started this morning when Morsa told you that you had to go to nursery because your babysitter got sick and they couldn’t take you to practice because they had grown up things to do afterwards. Then when you were getting dressed Momma wouldn’t let you wear your Barcelona jersey with Moster Frido’s name on the back (because it's dirty) so you have to settle for wearing one of Tante Simone’s Hammarby shirt’s.

The terrible horrible no goodness continues at breakfast when you have to eat pancakes instead of waffles because there are none. And Morsa doesn’t even put any fruit in it like normally does when you have waffles.

You cry the whole way to nursery, where things do not get any better.

When you get there, a little boy that you don’t recognize is sitting in your normal spot on the rug and Miss makes you sit somewhere else when you ask him to move.

That little boy, Zac, continues to make your day worse at every possible turn.

After the rug incident, he takes the last seat at the lego table even though your friend Jamie had been saving it for you. When your class goes outside, he refuses to let you play football and then when the teachers make him, he keeps shoving you over. But, of course, Miss only notices when you shove him back and so you get put in timeout.

When you get back inside, after naptime, Miss tells the class a story about Vikings from Sweden, and the day improves for all of about 2 minutes when she lets you tell everyone about the Viking museum you went to the last time you visited Stockholm. But it goes sour again when Zac keeps cutting you off and even says that girls weren’t allowed to be vikings, which is just completely untrue.

That unfortunately, is your breaking point and before you even realize it, you’re across the room shoving the boy over. And just as quickly, Miss has grabbed you around the waist and is hauling you over to the timeout stool.

After 5 minutes, she comes back and brings you over to say sorry to Zac, except you don’t. Instead you start a rant in Swedish about Vikings, and well both your refusal to apologize and the Swedish (something you’ve been warned about in the past) land you back in the timeout where you stay for the rest of the day.

You’re not sure how long it really is but it feels like forever before the sound of two familiar voices have you turning around to face the rest of the classroom.

You only need to catch a glimpse of them before you're off the stool and barrelling towards them at fool speed barely dodging the other kids who are still waiting to get picked up.

“Jessie, Niamh,” you all but shout, slamming directly into the Englishwoman's legs, “Why are you here? Where’s my Momma and Morsa?”

Before either of the athletes have a chance to answer, Miss speaks instead.

“Y/N, I know you’re very excited to see your friends but that’s no excuse for running or shouting indoors.”

“Sorry, Miss.” Even to your own ears you don’t sound very sorry. “I’m going to get my things.”

You dart back off across the classroom, only slowing down slightly when Miss calls out after you.

It takes you less than a minute to grab your things and come back, immediately shoving your jumper and backpack into Niamh’s hands.

“No way, kid, we’re under strict instructions to make sure that you wear this,” the defender says.

“No thank you, bye Miss,” you say, taking Jessie’s hand and leading her out of the classroom and the building.

You can hear Niamh laughing as she follows behind, still holding your jumper, and complaining about it, until Jessie eventually stops you halfway down the block.

“Y/N/N, I know you don’t want to but you really need to wear your sweater,” the Canadian says.

“No thank you.”

That earns you a hard stare from the older girl, “I wasn’t really asking you.”

“No.”

“Yes, Y/N.”

With the two of you locked in a very intense stare down, Niamh takes the opportunity to take you by surprise, forcing the jumper over your head. She manages to get it down past your shoulders, making it so you can do nothing but whine as you struggle to get your arms free and through the appropriate holes.

“Not fair,” you say with a stomp of your foot and the slightest pout, once you manage to free yourself.

“Isn’t it crazy how life is rarely fair,” Niamh asks sarcastically. “But since it isn’t fair, I guess that means that you don’t want to come to the zoo with Jessie and I?”

Wide-eyed you look over at the Canadian, who just nods at you very seriously before speaking, “Niamh and I would just have to go by ourselves and it won’t be as much fun without our favorite little girl there to tell us about all the reptiles and amphibians.”

You pretend to take a moment to think about it but anyone watching from the outside, specifically Jessie and Niamh, can see the way you’re practically shaking with excitement.

“Well, I suppose that we can still go,” you say as calmly as a kid your age can, “the two of you need someone to help you see the differences in all the salamanders and newts.”

The two footballers exchange a knowing smirk over the top of your head as you allow Niamh to take you by the hand.

The trip to the zoo takes too long in your humble opinion but you do your best to not bounce up and down in your seat. Once you reach the zoo, all sense of pretense is lost and you just barely agree to see some of the other animals before you attach your face to the glass in the reptile exhibit.

You allow yourself to be dragged to the different primates (where you do your best not to make faces back at them), then to the big cats (where you happily explain that lions aren’t kings of the jungle because they live in the savannah) and finally to the giraffes (where you crack jokes about them being even taller than Millie).

Eventually though, you do make it to the reptile exhibit just in time to see one of the handlers taking a baby alligator out of its habitat.

Immediately, you rush forward with the other kids, getting as close as possible to the zookeeper.

“Hello, I’m zookeeper Jack and this here is my friend Billy, he’s visiting us from America.”

From the second the zookeeper starts talking, you’re hooked, staring in silent wonder as the animal is held on display. The only movement you make is to raise your hand in an attempt to answer almost every question.

Near the end, Jack asks if anyone would like to hold Billy and your hand is the only one that goes up.

“We’ve got a brave one. What’s your name,” he asks, while showing you where to put your hands.

“Y/N.”

“And who brought you to the zoo today?”

“Niamh and Jessie,” you say, slowly point Billy’s head towards them. “They promised to let me show them the newts and salamanders.”

“Niamh and Jessie are your sisters?”

“Yea.”

You’ve completely returned your attention to Billy the gator, so you’re not even aware of the shock that your words have given the two athletes.

“One more question for you, Y/N, and then we’ll let you and your sisters take a photo with our friends here,” Jack says. “What do you want to be when you grow up?”

“A herpetologist,” you say. Then after a moment, “Or maybe a viking, I haven’t decided yet.”

“Well, if you’re as gentle with all animals as you were with Billy, I think you have a pretty good chance at it,” he says, choosing to ignore the bit about becoming a viking, not wanting to break your little kid heart.

Jack the zookeeper then quickly ushers both of the footballers to the front to take a photo. He tries to make them stand next to you only for both of them to stand behind you and as far away from Billy’s teeth as they could.

When he takes the alligator back, you thank him before dragging Niamh and Jessie over to one of the vivariums you noticed on your way in. The large glass habitat is set up to resemble the ecosystem of the rivers and creeks in the pacific northwest and there, peeking out from underneath a rock, is the very animal you’ve been wanting to show them, the rough skin newt.

“Look,” you say, pointing the black and orange creature out, “That little guy is one of the most toxic animals in all of America. Just one of them contains enough toxin to kill 12 adults.”

“That’s scary, why do you know that,” Niamh asks.

“It’s not scary, it's cute,” you tell her. “And cool! There’s only one animal that can safely eat them and most of the time that snake decides it isn’t worth the hassle.”

The smile on your face only grows as you continue to gush about the tiny amphibians and its cousins. It doesn’t go away until well after you return home.

When you do get back home, now armed with a stuffed Smooth Newt and your face still sticky with the ice cream you had leaving the zoo, you excitedly tell your mothers about Billy, completely missing the look Momma sends the two younger players.

What you don’t miss is the way Morsa quickly ushers you out of the room under the guise of helping you find a spot for your new friend, affectionately dubbed Bäcken (She goes right next to Älg in your bed obviously.) And you definitely don’t miss the way Niamh tries to hide behind Jessie to avoid Momma’s wrath as you walk away.

But in the end, you decide not to pay it too much attention because you’re far too busy telling your Morsa the names of all the different reptiles and amphibians you saw at the zoo as she helps you get cleaned up before dinner.

She's not very impressed with the amount of dirt you're covered in, so she makes you change while asking you about it. And she's even less impressed when you tell her about your day at nursery but you immediately change the subject back to the zoo, so she let's it go.

When your clothes are changed and the dirt and ice cream are wiped from your skin, the two of you head out to the dining room joining the others.

Where you realize that you have to start your story telling all over again because Momma didn't hear the part about the snakes and everyone else realizes that this is all you'll be talking about for weeks.

[viking-raider]

A Christmas Miracle🎄

Summary: You and Henry are celebrating Christmas with family, while expecting your first child together.

Pairing: Henry Cavill/Reader

Word Count: 5.9k

Warning: G - Cotton Candy Goodness, Soft!Henry, Fluff, Kal, Papa Bear!Henry, Domestic Bliss, Christmas Decorating, Pregnancy Stuff, Cotton Candy Fluff, Loving Marriage, Christmas Fluff

Inspiration: This story ties into my Easter story, The Golden Egg.

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy this! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLISTand turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy! @VIKING-RAIDER-LIBRARY

“Babe!” Henry gasped, as he came into the living room, nearly tossing the steaming cup of tea in his hand, upon discovering you.

You were standing on the two-step high stool, to sprinkle golden tinsel on the fragrant and robust branches of an eight foot Fraser Fir that stood proudly in the corner of the living room. You chuckled, shaking your head at your husband, but didn't look back at him, as you picked a bit of tinsel off one of the emerald branches, having adorned the needles with too much of the sparkling, thin strands.

“You shouldn't be up there, love!” He scolded you, setting the tea he had made you on the coffee table as he rounded it and the couch, to come towards you, resting his hands on your hips. “I told you, I would help you decorate the tree, once I was done with your tea.”

“I know you did, Hen.” You answered, sighing softly, finally looking down at him and seeing the wrinkle of worry between his brow. It hadn't smoothed since the Brit found out you were pregnant with his child on Easter, nearly nine months before. “But I'm also capable of doing it myself.” You reminded him, resting a hand on his shoulder and giving his neck a gentle squeeze.

“I'm pregnant, not invalid.”

Henry sighed softly, leaning forward to press a tender kiss to your round and pronounced belly. “I know you're capable, sweetheart.” He assured you, looking up at you with an affection in his blue eyes that always melted your heart. “I just don't want you to get hurt. Especially with you so close to the due date.” He said, helping you step down off the stool. “Just sit down and enjoy your tea. Then, we'll tag team the tree together.” He told you, putting an excited smile on his face.

“All right.” You conceded, settling down on the couch and took up your tea, cupping the mug between your hands and letting the heat seep into your palms, before finally taking a sip.

“Your parents will be here in a couple days.” Henry commented, squatting beside a box of Christmas decorations neither of you had opened up yet. “My parents made up their guest house in preparation for their arrival.” He told you, peeking into the box.

Halfway into your pregnancy, Henry had taken time off from acting and the two of you decided to leave your secluded London home for the coziness of Henry's home island of Jersey. Buying a nice, beach front property, three streets and a five-minute walk from his parents' place, with the intent on having your baby boy born in Saint Helier. You loved being on the little Channel Island, sitting on the back patio or taking walks on the beach, breathing in the soothing sea air, which helped your morning sickness a good deal.

The only downside was your family was far out of reach of you, having to fly into Jersey to visit and check-in on you. Your parents wanted to be on hand when you finally had their third grand-baby, so Henry footed the bill to bring them out and his parents were amazing enough to host them while they were here.

“That's great.” You smiled, flexing your sore and swollen feet, watching him pull out ornaments, garland and other little tree decorations. “I can't wait to see them again.” You commented, not having seen them since your fourth month, just before you and Henry left for Jersey. “I'm sure my mom will bring more knitted items.” You chuckled, glancing over your shoulder to the soft, butter-yellow blanket your mother had knitted a couple months ago.

“I would be shocked, if she didn't!” Henry laughed back, his broad shoulders shaking as he stood. “What garland do you want on the tree?” He asked, holding up a strand of colorful beads and another of red and white, twisted ribbons.

You hummed, pressing your lips together and studied your tree, eyes narrowing slightly, scrutinizing the colors on its branches. “I think the ribbon would work best with it.” You finally settled, nodding content with your choice.

“All right then.” He nodded back, putting the other garland aside. “Ah, nope!” He tisked, when you set your tea down and started the mini struggle of standing up. “You put the tinsel on the tree, it's my turn to put the garland on. You relax.”

“Fair enough.” You sighed softly, picking your tea back up and rested against the couch cushions, just in time for Kal to jump up beside you. “Well, hello there, sweet boy.” You cooed at him, reaching out to give him good scratches between the ears and around the neck. “Have you come to make sure I stay put?” You quipped, the Akita resting his head in your lap.

“I did no such thing!” Henry called over his shoulder, carefully tucking the garland into the branches.

“Sure, love. Sure.” You chuckled at him, though Henry's protectiveness at times could be a little overbearing, you knew he did it out of love and first-time father worries. “He's paying you in treats and promises of all the good turkey, ham and brisket bits he plans on cooking for Christmas dinner.” You accused, lifting a brow at the unphased Akita, before wincing and pressing a palm to the side of your belly.

“You all right?” Henry asked, catching a glimpse from his peripheral, pausing a moment.

“Yeah, your son just kicks like a Fly-Half.” You answered, chuckling halfheartedly. “If he keeps these strong legs, he'll for sure make the England team.” You said, trying to ease the look of suspicion on Henry's face, that it was the baby kicking, and your own, that the pain was something more than a false contraction.

“You missed a branch there, Bubs.” You commented, drawing Henry's attention away from the subjection, motioning with your steaming black, Nightmare Before Christmas cup.

“Mm.” He grunted, narrowing his eyes at you, but turned to fuss over it.

You took a deep breath, rubbing the globe of your stomach, hoping to soothe any would-be pains. Thankfully, you didn't have any more throughout the morning, helping Henry put up the ornaments and other little hanging knick knacks on the tree. Something Henry was comfortable with you doing, since you kept your feet on the hardwood, safely beside him.

“I want to do a little plaster imprint of his hand and foot, to hang up on the tree for next year.” You commented suddenly, gently holding a little needlepoint ornament you'd made. It was a silhouette of Henry and you, with Kal between you, the year above your heads. You had made one every year since the first Christmas the three of you had spent together. “Should make a new needlepoint too.” You added even softer.

Henry glanced down at you, a fond and nostalgic light in his blue orbs. “I think that would be a lovely idea, babe.” He smiled, warmed at the idea. “I like the idea of making and expanding our little traditions.”

“I should have given myself a baby bump in this one.” You joked, carefully adding the stitched ornament on a branch, accompanied with the others around it. “So much for accuracy.”

“It looks perfect, my love.” He assured you, kissing your hair. “Now, let's turn the lights on and see how this thing looks!” He proclaimed, shuffling around the tree and plugged in the two strings of lights skillfully wrapped around the tree.

You stood back to get a good look at the Fir, just as the tiny, cool and warm-white LED, diamond facet bulbs flickered on. Making many of the ornaments glitter and twinkle. It brought a great feeling of delight bubbling up inside of you, tugging on your exhausted and hormonal raged body, until tears spilled over.

“Sweetheart.” Henry cooed, pouting at you sweetly, as he closed his arms around your shoulders, hugging you as closely as your belly would allow.

“It looks beautiful.” You mumbled into his chest, fingers gripping at the sides of his shirt.

He smiled, nosing the hair at the top of your head and rubbing your back with one hand. “It is, dear, and so are you.”

“I'm also starving.” You blurted out, breaking the melancholy mood.

“Butter chicken or pepperoni and feta pizza?”

“Oh god, you know me too well at this point.” You giggled, licking your lips. “But, the butter chicken.”

You sat up in bed, Kal resting between your legs, with his head laying on your belly, as you read your latest book on your Kindle. While Henry was downstairs doing some work on the new Warhammer minis he ordered as a way to keep himself occupied, when he wasn't taking care of you.

“Oh.” You gasped, feeling a sudden, sharp pain. “Gosh, did we disagree on the butter chicken, Bean?” You groaned, pressing your palm to the side of your stomach; Kal lifting his to sniff at your belly as another pain caused you to cramp. “It's all right, Bud. Your brother is just being a little difficult.” You sighed, setting your e-reader on your nightstand and lumbered out of bed, before heading downstairs.

“Hey, love.” Henry smiled, looking up from the Ultramarine mini in his hand. “I thought you were going to bed.”

“I was trying to, but your son doesn't agree with dinner.” You explained to him, looking over his progress on his Warhammer army. “Can you do your trick?” You asked, lulling your head to the side and giving him a cute look.

Henry chuckled, setting his mini down. “My trick.” He smirked, standing up and moving behind you. “Any reason to cuddle.” He teased, reaching around to cup both hands beneath your stomach and leaned you both backwards, taking the weight of your belly as he did.

“Mmm.” You hummed, eyes falling shut, while you let your head rest against Henry's chest. “It feels so good.” You sighed, resting your hands on his.

Henry cradling your baby bump had become a god send throughout your third trimester. Taking the weight of your healthy and active baby boy off your lower back and hips. However in your earlier trimesters, the two of you learned it helped relieve your heartburn and whenever your little one got a bit too restless.

You liked to think it was the baby reacting to Henry's touch.

It was calm for a long, few moments, just you and Henry, slowly swaying side to side, the baby calm. But again, your stomach spasmed and you whimpered, making it clear to Henry, you were indeed having some sort of contractions.

“How long has this been going on?” He asked, eyes wide and brows pinched.

“Since this morning.” You confessed finally, taking slow, deep breaths.

“Why didn't you tell me?” He demanded, startled and worried.

“I didn't have any through the afternoon.” You assured him, patting his hands. “I figured it was just false. But, I'm starting to think otherwise, with how much that one hurts.”

“We should probably go to the hospital.” Henry fret, starting away from you, but you turned and caught his elbow.

“Henry.” You said in a soft, soothing voice. “You remember what the OB said?” You tried reminding him. “Four-One-One.”

“Four minutes apart, a minute long, lasting an hour.” He recited, having listened to your OB, and read numerous baby and expecting parent books.

You had taken a couple of parenting classes as well. Until people started posting photos of you on social media, annoying you and causing Henry to be even more of a papa bear. So, you'd found an online, private class to do in the comfort of your living room.

“Not one has lasted a minute, been four minutes apart or lasted an hour.” You assured him, dropping your hand to his, giving it a gentle squeeze. “If they're the real deal, I'm in the early stages and going to the hospital now will only incur hours and hours of waiting. Which we'll be doing here anyway.”

“What if something happens?”

“Nothing is going to happen, you worry-wart.” You chuckled at him, shaking your head. “Come to bed with us.” You cooed, pushing up on your toes, kissing his bearded cheek and brushing your fingers through the curls above his ear.

“You'll tell me.” Henry insisted as he followed you upstairs to the master bedroom.

“Of course, I'll tell you, Henry.” You assured him. “Then, I'll tell Kal.” You quipped, trying to lighten the mood and get him to smile.

But he didn't smile, his mind preoccupied with making sure everything was ready, should you wake him up and tell him your contractions were growing close together.

Did I get the car seat in the Audi correctly? Where did I put the hospital bag? In this closet or the coat closet downstairs? Everything's in it she and the baby needs, right?

“Babe.”

Perhaps I should just go down and get it, to make sure. What about the nursery? Thank God, I finished the crib last month!

“Hen..”

Do we need more diapers? Are they the right size? What if--

“Henry!” You called out, when he didn't answer you, a far off and growing alarm look in his cerulean eyes, startling him out of his worried trance. “Everything is all right.” You said slowly, holding his gaze steadily. “We have everything we need. Everything the baby needs. If we don't, that's perfectly fine. Your parents and mine have offered their help, should it arise. As have your brothers.”

“I don't know how you're so calm.” He sighed, shaking his head and dropping down on his side of the bed.

You laughed, smirking. “I'm not calm. But there's no use for us both freaking out, especially at the same time. Besides, when I freak out, I have you to pull me back together, the least I can do is return the favor, when you start to lose it.” You told him, maneuvering yourself back under the covers.

“What's a spouse for?”

“You're right.” Henry nodded, turning the light out and resting against the headboard beside you. “One of the many reasons I love you, and married you.” He said, taking your hand and bringing it to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

Snuggling down, your back pressed against Henry's chest with his hand ever present on your belly, you tried to focus on falling asleep.

“You know.” Henry commented, half-asleep himself. “I sort of miss when you were in your first and second trimesters.”

“Oh?” You mumbled back, with interest.

“Yeah, you were always jumping my bones.” He laughed, shaking the bed with his mirth. “Well, until the end of your second trimester, when your belly got too big to do anything other than waddle and ride my cock.”

You were instantly awake again at his words. A huge smile of hot guilt and embarrassment on your face, that you hid in your pillow. It was true! The first stages of your pregnancy had made you quite frisky towards Henry. Sometimes so much so, he hadn't recovered from the last time you'd had sex and would need to pleasure you in other ways to bring your arousal down. Not that the man complained about it! But a couple weeks into your third trimester, the raging inferno of your passions cooled off. Even beyond what they were before you were expecting. You were just too tired and sore, uncomfortable, and just ready to give birth, to think of such things. But again, Henry didn't complain. You were grateful for that, because you felt bad that your mood didn't match his, at the moment.

Having seen the look of concupiscent on his face more than once, as the two of you showered together, went to bed or woke in the mornings. But you just didn't have it in you, and he took it with grace and understanding acceptance, not pressuring you or making you feel like a bad partner, for not reciprocating.

The two of you calmed down and allowed each other to finally fall asleep.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked, the next morning as the two of you finished breakfast.

“I feel all right, Bubs. Only a few pains here and there.” You answered, polishing off your usual cup of chamomile tea, something that had been a staple throughout your pregnancy, to battle your morning sickness and heartburn. “Excited to make cookies with your mum.”

Henry smiled across the table at you. “Good. I bet all these sugary smells are going to drive you and wee man nutty.”

It was a Cavill family tradition to get together, before Christmas, and make cookies for the big family dinner party, as well as to give out as tokens to friends and neighbors. It was also considered quite the honor among the Cavill brothers' wives to have Marianne ask to join her in the massive production. Since she didn't ask just anyone to help her; having a couple secret family recipes to protect in the process. But Marianne had asked, surprisingly and much to Henry's pride, you to help her, at your and Henry's first Christmas. Something that made one or two of Henry's sisters-in-law jealous, especially since the two of you were new and still dating, and one of them had never been asked.

Even to this day.

“Our mouths are already watering for your mother's chocolate chip, mocha cookies.” You confessed; it was one of the many things you looked forward to for Christmas. Marianne's chocolate chip, mocha flavored cookies were something you'd start a fight over, as were her chocolate covered, Oreo truffles with peppermint bark crumble on top. “Oh god.” You moaned, stuffing the last bit of bland, buttered toast into your mouth; Henry laughing at you.

“I'm going to roast up another heritage turkey this year.” He commented, finishing his coffee, then helped clear the breakfast table. “Everyone seemed to love it last year.”

“That's fine with me.” You answered, loading the soap dispenser and starting the dishwasher. “I have one small request.”

“You could make an enormous request, love!” Henry snorted, taking a protein shake out of the fridge.

“I want yams with roasted marshmallows on top.” You told him, confidently. “To myself.”

“To yourself?” He echoed, a smirk on his lips. “How big is the dish?”

“A small one is fine. I just don't want to share it.” You confessed your craving to him.

Letting out a laugh and nodding, Henry shrugged. “All right then. I'll make sure you have your roasted marshmallow covered yams, and I'll have Kal guard them.”

“Excellent.” You nodded back, then looked at your watch. “We should get going. Your mother asked us to get there before ten.” You informed him, heading for the front door and eased yourself down on a small bench that was there.

Henry joined you, squatting down to grab your shoes from underneath the bench and slipped them on your feet, tying them securely, since your prominently belly prevented you from reaching your feet to put on your shoes. Let alone tie them. Your shoes on and helping you back up, Henry got his own shoes on, but paused as he opened the door for you and Kal. He glanced back at the hall closet. Biting his lip, he hurried over and grabbed the baby bag from inside, then dashed after you, putting the bag in the back as he got behind the wheel.

“Just in case.” He answered your lifted brow.

“Fair, I suppose.” You shrugged, unable to argue with his logic.

“How are you holding up, my love?” Henry asked, peeking into the kitchen, before shuffling over to you, sure his mother wouldn't shoo him out.

“My cookie restraint thinned dramatically after the second batch.” You confessed, looking around at all the Santa's, snowmen, candy canes and snowflakes that were either waiting to go into the oven or cooling. “However, your mum apparently anticipated this. Making me batch yesterday, so I could nibble on them, while we made these.”

Henry grinned, touched at his mother's thoughtfulness. “That was sweet of her.” He cooed, brushing the back of his fingers over your cheek. “Have you had any more pains?” He asked, his brows pinching slightly, worried.

“Nothing concerning.” You told him, closing your hand around his wrist. “You know I'd come get you.” You tried assuring him, giving him a soft smile. “Or your mum would, should my water break.” You giggled, a smile turning into a smirk.

“That's not funny, babe.” Henry snapped softly, eyes big.

You pressed your lips together, guilty, before pushing up on your bare toes, having taken off your shoes for the long standing in the kitchen, to press your lips against Henry's. “I'm sorry, Puppy.” You mumbled against them, before reaching around him, grabbing a finished Snowman, presenting it to his mouth in place of your own. “I baked and decorated this one myself.” You grinned at him, a glitter of pride in your eyes.

“Oh, did you?” He cooed, opening his mouth to admit the round biscuit of white icing, adorned with two black chocolate pearls for eyes and smaller black sugar pearls for a mouth. It had a carrot nose, made of orange icing and the upper crown of the biscuit was covered in purple, blue and white hundreds and thousands, then outlined with silvery snowflake-shaped sprinkles.

Taking the biscuit from you, Henry nibbled on it, already knowing it would be delicious, since you had made it with his family's age-old recipe. “You know.” He mumbled around his mouthful. “I can't wait to share these with our little guy.” He said, smirking down at the bake, before glancing around the kitchen.

“Well, technically, I've already done that.” You giggle, running your hand over the globe of your belly.

Henry snorted loudly, his smirk growing. “You have me there, my love.” He replied, finishing his treat off, reaching out to lay his hand on your stomach as he saw the moments of your son shift, pressing either an elbow or knee out. “Still trips me out to see him move inside of you.” He commented, feeling something around nudge against his palm.

“You should feel it from this end.” You huffed, making a face at the kicks as he tumbled about, prodding a heel into your ribs and a shoulder into your slowly screaming bladder. “Poor bud is running out of space in there.” You cooed, moving your hand to cup the underside of your stomach.

“That he is.” He agreed, leaning down to press a kiss to your belly. “But, soon he'll be out here with us.”

“Henry William Dalgliesh Cavill.”

A cold chill washed down Henry's back, making the little hairs on his neck stand up as he straightened. “Mum.” He squeaked, looking at her over your shoulder.

“You know the rules of setting foot in my kitchen, while we bake.” Marianne scolded her second youngest.

“I do.” He nodded, biting his lip as he half smirked at her. “I was just checking up on her and our little one.” He explained, motioning to you.

Marianne's gaze shifted, her soft and kind blue eyes looking you over. She had noticed the few contractions you'd experience while helping her bake, and had sharpened her eye on you even more. Everyone in the family had a side eye on you it seemed, with your due date so nearby, like they were concerned you would pop like a water balloon.

“I'm fine.” You sighed softly, offering her a reassuring smile.

“Then, you can pop out of our kitchen.” Marianne said, cocking a brow at her son.

You chuckled, loving the nonchalance she had. “We'll see you later, my dear.” You cooed at him, kissing the corner of his mouth, tasting the sugar on his lips and inciting a need for another cookie from your stash. “Off you go.” You giggled, patting him on the chest and set your eyes on your task.

Henry looked at his mother with a pointed look, gesturing towards you, to which Marianne answered with a roll of her eyes and picked up a sheet of cookies needing to go into the oven.

“My back is to you, Henry, not my senses.” You shot over your shoulder, cutting out more cookies from the dough.

“Christ alive, our son has his work cut out for him.” He chuckled, winking at you as he turned to leave and rejoin his brothers and dad in the living room.

You looked over at Marianne and laughed, your mother-in-law joining in, the two of you amused he didn't realize you'd seen her roll her eyes.

“That boy.” Marianne chuckled, shaking her head as she moved to stand beside you, helping portion out the raw dough.

“He's freaked out.” You commented, gently laying a Santa on the sheet.

“Understandably.” She answered, wielding the snowflake cutter with skill. “The first baby is always the most stressful, and Henry's wanted to be a father for a very long time.”

“I know he has.” You nodded, feeling your stomach lightly bump the edge of the counter. “I'm happy and excited for our little one.” You told her, wadding up the scrap dough, then picked up a rolling pin. “I'm definitely ready not to be pregnant anymore.” You snorted, smiling faintly.

“And your worries?” Marianne asked, tilting her head at you, without pausing her work.

You drew in a slow, deep breath. “I'm worried about the labor. I'm terrified about whether or not I'll make a good parent.” You confessed to her, letting your breath out. “I know Henry will, he's incredible with kids. I love watching him with his younger fans, with his nieces and nephews.” You gush, grinning at the flashes of memories. “Seeing him hold Ellie, when we first met her--” You shook your head, a bubble of emotions overwhelming you for a moment, til you cleared your throat.

“You'll be a great mother.” Marianne reassured you, running her hand up and down your back. “You have nothing to worry about there. You'll have me and your mum to help you, as well as Heather and all the other girls.”

“I know.” You nodded, resting your shoulder against hers. “And I appreciate it, with all my heart.”

“Why don't you go upstairs, to Henry's old room, and rest for a bit?” She suggested to you. “I can finish the cookies with Heather.”

“Are you sure?” You frowned, glancing around the organized chaos of the kitchen.

“Yes.” She nodded, resting her hands on your shoulders and turning you away from the counter. “You and my grandson need all the rest you can get.” She directed you towards the entry of the kitchen. “Soon, you won't have it.”

Henry saw his mum guiding you and instantly jumped up from the couch, where he sat beside his brother Simon. “Are you all right, honey?” He cooed, his handsome face pinching.

“She's fine, Henry.” Marianne replied, looking up at him. “She just needs to rest a bit. Take her upstairs.”

“All right.” He nodded, taking your arm and showed you upstairs to the bedroom that was his as a kid. “Can I get you anything? Some water, maybe.” He asked, helping you lay back on the made, full-size bed.

“I'm all right, Puppy.” You sighed, rubbing your face.

“What's wrong, honey?” He asked, pulling up a chair from the desk in his room and sat down in front of you.

“Nothing's wrong.” You replied, sighing, flexing your plump toes as Henry grasped your foot in his hands. “I'm just tired and sore.” You told him, closing your eyes as you let out a soft moan, feeling Henry's thumbs work your arch.

“I got the Dad Talk from my dad and brothers.” He chuckled, gently touching the tip of your toes, each painted a cute red color, that he had done himself about a week before.

He had started giving you little at home, medi-pedis to treat you to something nice. Though, it had taken him a couple tries to get painting your nails down. Admitting it wasn't as simple as painting his Warhammer Minis, like he'd thought.

You giggled back, smirking. “Did they?” You hummed, letting your eyes fall shut. “Any good advice?”

“Um, Simon said that I should explain my job to him as soon as we think he can understand it.” Henry recalled, biting his lip with an amused smirk pulling across his mouth. “So, we don't have another Thomas Incident on our hands.”

“My dad's Sherlock Holmes!” You replied, laughing aloud. “Or god-knows who else!”

“Exactly.” He nodded, amused by it too. “My dad suggested, should we have any more kids, to have girls, that way it doesn't continue on the Cavill boy madness, like dead arms and throwing each other off the couch.”

“I would like, at least, one girl, anyway.” You told him, laying your hand on your stomach, feeling your son shift and kick again, wincing as he did.

“Same.” He smirked, as excited as he was for a son, he had wanted a girl too. “Maybe the next one.”

“Mmm.” You hummed back, falling silent and drifting slightly.

Taking the hint, Henry rested your legs in his lap and leaned back, closing his own eyes to rest. Both of you were exhausted from the months of preparation for the baby, all the worrying about if you would be good parents and protecting your son against the world of social media and paparazzi. But the pair of you had only laid there for twenty or so minutes, before you jerked at a sharp pain, inadvertently kicking Henry in the stomach as you did.

Henry gasped and groaned at the blow, doubling over. “Babe?” He rasped, frowning across at you, finding you half sitting up, hand cupping the underside of your stomach with a look of shocked horror on your face. “What's wron—oh shit!” He snapped, seeing the wet patch seeping through your leggings and onto the duvet on the bed.

“Was that--”

“Uh-huh.” You nodded, gulping thickly.

“It's okay, all right.” He nodded, running both hands through his curls. “Up we go.” He said, holding his shaking hands out to you, pulling you up and wrapping an arm around your waist. “Broke your water on my childhood bed.” He commented offhandedly, letting out a nervous chuckle.

“It is where we had our first kiss.” You added, lifting a brow at him. “Why not this too!”

“Mum!” Henry called out as you reached the bottom of the stairs. “We have to go.” He said as Marianne rounded the corner from the living room. “Someone's water broke.”

“Oh gosh!” She exclaimed, throwing her hands up. “Go hurry!” She shooed the two of you towards the door, before spinning on her feet. “Code blue everybody!” She shouted at the family gathered in the living room, snapping them into gear, sending brothers and in-laws scrambling everywhere.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Henry asked as he helped you buckle your seatbelt.

“Like I just peed myself.” You snorted, clutching your belly. “Henry.” You cooed at him, watching him make jerky movements but not move from your side. “Hen!” You called, reaching out to grab his shoulder, giving him a gentle shake.

“Huh?” He whimpered, blinking a few times.

“My shoes are still in the house.” You informed him, offering your sweet partner a smile.

“Oh right!” He nodded, kissing your hand and backing away to close your door, then raced back inside, running into a gaggle of his family fighting to put on shoes and coats. “Excuse me, pardon me!” He barked, diving into the huddle, scrabbling for your shoes.

“Henry!” Nik shouted after him.

“I forgot her shoes!” Henry yelled over his shoulder, pelting back to the car. “Got them!” He smiled, sliding home into the driver's seat and dropping them onto the center console. “I'll put them on you, when we get to the hospital.” He told you, starting the car and pulling away from the curb, while ordering Alexa to map the route to Jersey General Hospital, the very hospital where he and his brothers had been born.

“Speed limit, Cavill!” You reminded him, frowning.

“Baby!”

“He's not going to pop out right now!!”

“He could!

“Between the two of us, Hank, I'm damn sure he's not!” You snapped back, through a contraction. “Deep b-breaths! ” You wheezed, through the pain.

“Relax your shoulders, don't clench your jaw, take a deep breath in....and let it out!” Henry reciting your Douala and doing the technique with you. “Amazing, baby doll. I'm so proud of you.”

“Jesus Christ on a motorbike.” You sighed as the pain faded. “We're waiting at least three years before we have our daughter.” You panted over at him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Henry laughed, holding his hand out to you. “Whatever you want.”

“I know what we should name him.” You said, softly.

“Oh?” He replied, pulling into the hospital parking lot. “What?”

You looked over at him, your expression soft. “I want to name him, Charlie.” You told him, biting the corner of your lip, you'd put a lot of consideration into it over your pregnancy. “We wouldn't have met, if your brother didn't nag you to come talk to me at that club.”

Biting his lip, a heart shaped lump thumping in his throat. “You're right.” He whispered; voice raw.

Charlie had prodded him for an hour, while supplying him with shots of liquid courage, to finally cross the club you both were in. You were with your friends, blowing off steam after a long work week, and Henry, Charlie and two other friends of Henry's were just hanging out, since he was in town and not working on any projects.

He never forgot the look on your friends' faces as he approached your table, recognizing him, melting into the dark leather of your corner booth and mumbling to each other with hungry, googly eyes. But you, while surprised a celeb was approaching you, hadn't fawned over him, like they did. You'd kept your cool, with jittery insides. Henry politely acknowledged everyone at the table, but his blue eyes were set on you. He asked, trying to have a persona of cool and calm, if he could get you a drink, noting on the way over, yours was empty, and with relief, you'd said yes. So, you dislodged yourself from your friends and followed him to the bar. Striking up a conversation with him, that moved to an empty table, after getting your drinks and lasted until the announcement the club was closing, at two am.

Neither of you had wanted to move apart, but it was late and you both knew it. So, you exchanged numbers and texted while you got yourselves home, then fell asleep. Making the promise to have a proper dinner the next day.

All of which snowballed to this moment. Sitting in the car at the hospital, married and staring at each other between contractions, discussing the name you wanted for your first born, for your son.

“It's perfect.” He nodded, reaching out to cup your cheek. “I could ask for nothing more for Christmas, than you and our son, for Charlie.” He choked up, leaning across to kiss you deeply.

@winter2112rose / @littlefreya / @kemillyfreitas / @thereisa8ella / @courtlynwriter / @starfirewildheart / @beck07990 / @goldenirishpotato / @pipsqueakkitten

[memories-of-ancients]

The Ancient Celtic Ritual of Killing a Sword,

During the early iron age up to the rise of the Roman Empire the ancient Celts dominated most of Europe, their tribal societies stretching from Spain in the west to Turkey in the east. One ancient Cetlic tradition was the ritual of “killing”  the sword of a deceased chieftain or warrior for burial. Often the sword would be heated, then bent into either a circle or “S” shape thus making it irreparable and useless. In hundreds of Celtic graves throughout Europe such ritually killed swords have been uncovered, one of the most well preserved being a iron sword uncovered near Oss in the Netherlands dating to 700 BC.

There are many possible reasons such a ritual was done by the ancient Celts. The sword could have been killed as a ritual sacrifice to speed the soul of the deceased into the afterlife. Indeed a sword would have made an excellent sacrifice considering the expense and labor needed to craft a quality iron sword in that age. In addition, it may have been a special honor for a particularly brave warrior, and while the warrior rests peacefully in death, likewise his sword should be permanently retired. Kind of like how today we retire the jersey of a famous athlete who passes away.  Finally, killing the sword may have a more practical and down to earth purpose, to make it useless if uncovered by thieves and grave robbers.

By around the 1st century AD most Celtic tribes had been overrun by Germanic peoples or conquered and assimilated by the Roman Empire. However the tradition of sword killing continued with many German tribes, and during the early Middle Ages was commonly practiced by the Anglo-Saxons and the Vikings.

[octuscle]

I keep seeing Midwestern stuff everywhere. Ads for Illinois tourism. Football fans wearing Vikings and Packers gear. Fuck it, can’t beat ‘em, join em. Can you make me into a big, beefy corn-fed Midwestern football guy?

Sure thing, mate! Time to turn you into a big, beefy corn-fed Midwestern football guy! First things first, we gotta get you suited up proper. We’re talking a classic flannel shirt, jeans sturdy enough to handle farm work, and a pair of solid boots. Don't forget the trucker cap on your greasy mullet, gotta rep the local team!

Now, we gotta beef you up. Get you hitting the gym, pumping iron like there’s no tomorrow. We want arms like tree trunks and a chest that can stop a charging bull. And of course, we gotta get you eating like a true Midwesterner. That means plenty of steak, potatoes, and don’t forget the corn on the cob!

Next up, we gotta get you into the football scene. Start watching every game, learning the plays, and cheering on your local team like they’re family. Get yourself a jersey, maybe even paint your face in team colors for game day.

And last but not least, we gotta work on that accent. You gotta start drawling out those words like you’re straight outta the heartland. Throw in a “ya know” here and a “uff da” there, and you’ll be fitting in with the locals in no time!

There you have it, buddy. You're now a big, burly, corn-fed Midwestern football guy who's ready to tackle anything that comes his way! I've added a few more inches to your cock. I think that will come in handy when you're fucking your buddies at the sports bar or in the locker room at the gym.

[damiansgoodgirll]

princess treatment erling Haaland headcanons

my favorite viking is back!

erling haaland x reader

princess treatment

he would spoil you

and when i say spoil you, i mean spoil you

he would bring you breakfast in bed every single morning he was at home

he would buy you flowers

he would cook dinner for you, knowing how much you love his cooking

he would massage your shoulders if he knew you had a bad day

he would gently stroke your hair before you fall asleep

he loves holding you while you sleep

he usually would be the big spoon, your head over his chest or in the crook of his neck, his hands around your waist keeping you close to him

he loves giving you soft kisses before you fall asleep

he loves waking up first and watching you sleep, he always said that you looked like an angel

when there’s some football event, he makes sure to bring you with him

he loves having you by his side, he loves the way you support him

you’re always at his matches wearing his jersey

and for thanking you for being there, he usually gets some chocolate from the store, knowing how much you love chocolate and candies

you would have a date every time he was at home

it didn’t matter if you would go out for dinner or if you cooked something at home, just staying together was enough for you

he always lets you pick a movie to watch

he’s not a huge rom-com fan but he doesn’t care what you’re watching if you are together, he would just hold you when your sat on the couch and would watch the movie with you

as i said before, he loves spoiling you

there are times where he bought you a very expensive necklace and you didn’t know what to say

you definitely weren’t expecting that

but now you would wear that necklace everytime there was an important event, showing to erling how much you loved the gift

and he would look at you with dreamy eyes, because for him, you were the best thing that has ever walked on earth

[i9messi]

Dating Erling Haaland

Specific things I think Erling would do as your boyfriend

erling's masterlist

Erling is a teddy bear, no matter what others might say

On the field he can be shown as a Viking, as a monster, but in the intimacy of your relationship he is attentive to everything

He's sweet and caring

He gives you flowers on any occasion, without being an important day

"I want to give you flowers. The reason? I love you so much."

He asks you every day how you feel and if he can do something to improve it

He supports you in the moments where you are nervous, as in the days that you are stressed by an exam, or something related to your studies and/or work

Hiding your relationship at the beginning, wanting to maintain privacy, due to his fame and the bad comments people could make about you

"Do you think people are going to find out about us?" "I think we’ve been doing pretty well, hiding our relationship so far."

But one day, it was impossible to continue hiding the love you both had, so you ignored the outside world and decided to spend time together in public

Lots of dates in restaurants, cafes, book shops and museums

You accompanying Erling to buy clothes, knowing that you were going to "borrow it" (steal) later

Sleeping with giant Erling t-shirts or jerseys

He laughing at how you look with his clothes

SIZE KINK.

Erling is huge, regardless of your height, he always bothers you about the huge size difference between the two

"Look at you. So small and cute, huh?" "Shut the hell up."

"You’re like an arm rest."

Erling wrapping his arm around your shoulders whenever is possible; leaving kisses in your forehead

A LOT of physical touch.

No matter where you are, Erling has to have a hand on your body. It doesn’t necessarily have to be something sensual or provocative, he loves to touch your hair or hands

HIS HUGS.

You showing support in the matches, being the one who fights with everyone if they say a bad comment about your boyfriend

Playing football with him

Erling having patience and tolerance with you at the beginning, knowing that with his height and size, he could hurt you

"Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on you."

However, at some point, the two of you get to compete and play rough, which leads you to have heated discussions

Neither Erling or you likes to lose

Silent treatment for a few hours, until the two forget that were "angry"

You always find occasion to sit on his lap

His hands are your favorite body part of Erling

Hearing him speak Norwegian with his family is your favorite part of the day

Learning Norwegian just to tell him things that make him blush

[spacenintendogs]

modern au ask. What are the gangs personal clothing styles ?

ooooo.... i'm not very fashionable nor am i rlly confident abt my knowledge of styles & stuff so i'm sorry if it's not as creative as it could be :')

hiccup i see a lot of layers, similar to how he dresses in the dreamworks franchise. as he gets older there's more leather since he does a lot of motorcycle riding. flannels, graphic tees, baggier cargo pants & shorts & sneakers are his general go-to. has a nice pair of chucks he brings out once in a while. no piercings but he has a tattoo of toothless' strike class silhouette on one of his shoulder blades.

astrid dresses practically. usually in a pair of jeans or leggings. when she dresses more casually it's basketball shorts with a jersey of some kind. she wears jerseys relatively often too. also shirts she can easily move & breathe in. i think she'd like horizontal stripes for shirts but i might be projecting lol. she's got multiple ear piercings on both ears tho. she also loves her headbands!!! gets a specially made one from tuff & snot with stormfly's spines on it!! steel toed boots.

fishlegs dresses like a hipster. have u seen his moustache in httyd 3?? he's a hipster & he fucking rocks it. also rocks a lot of street styles he's one of the most fashionable of the gang & he is proud of it. he looks great always. gets the tattoos on his arms like he has in httyd 3. he also likes wearing rings!! has a wooden bead bracelet he wears from his older sister. uses stuff like beard oil & is super into skincare. u will catch him with a face mask & cucumbers over his eyes.

snotlout prob goes through the biggest style shift. when he's younger he dresses like the usual high school douchebag, backwards cap & everything. once he's a senior & after he graduates he's more biker style (he does become a biker dude after all). super tight t-shirts that show his boobs lmao. he gets his ears pierced & gets a labret piercing. tattoo sleeve on his right arm of monstrous nightmares entangling around each other. old habits die hard tho so sometimes u catch him with his backwards cap. heeled boots bc he likes to be tall.

ruffnut is so fucking cool u guys. she dresses in a variety of styles, sometimes vastly different day to day but she pulls them all off flawlessly. strong fashion is actually how she & fishlegs bond sometimes (or argue lmao). she's got so many ear piercings & switches out what she has by the day. she does her hair the most elaborately out of the gang, when it's long or short. loves long necklaces & layers them. has her nose pierced too. she has a tattoo of barf going down her calf (tuff has the other half so if they stand next to each other it completes the zippleback!!). her fave pair of shoes tho are her sketchers hiking sandals. let the dogs out!!!

tuff is also so fucking cool, though in a more laid back way compared to ruff. more grungy. ripped jeans from falling off his longboard. old sneakers that have been everywhere. shirts he's had since middle school that may be repurposed to have ripped sleeves or become crop tops. that ugly dress u saw at a thrift store? he's wearing it & fucking looks great. he has his septum pierced and multiple ear piercings (like httyd 3). i also think he'd get snake bites. when he's younger he wears beanies a lot but once he's older he puts his hair up in more elaborate "viking" styles with how he braids. also enjoys tank tops & more frayed looks to shirts in general. has belch tattooed down his calf (ruff has the other half, as stated above).

[hauntingmothgirl]

About me <3

Im a 20+ year old girl with a love for vintage, history, and all things spooky.

I am a pirate enthusiast, cryptid lover, divorced dad music listener, horror buff.

My interests are: ┃dnd┃vampires┃gaming┃cryptids┃creepypastas┃anime┃horror games┃2000s horror movies┃paintings that make me cry┃halloween┃bones┃dark photography┃Religious imagery in art┃y2k┃anything vintage┃my kitties┃moths┃halloween┃the undead┃Jesus┃cosplaying┃moths┃weeping angels┃true crime┃bone┃saws┃possums┃rats┃bats┃occult┃fantasy┃ghosts┃sirens┃wendigoon┃basically any monster┃clown figurines┃victorian dolls┃the medieval┃crows/ravens┃goth clubs┃mythology┃atlantis┃mermaids┃dragons┃vikings┃old hollywood┃diaries┃silent hill weather┃any church or gas station on a foggy night┃comics┃the creepy┃the paranormal┃1800s┃

Tastes:

┃goth┃emo┃scene┃y2k┃post punk┃gothic rock┃screamo┃new wave┃darkwave┃classic rock┃punk rock┃pop punk┃midwest emo┃yallternative┃2000s rnb┃rap┃essentially anything┃50s-60s music┃

Fav characters:

┃misa amane┃draculaura┃sibby┃love quinn┃harley quinn┃Alice cullen┃starfire┃catwoman┃dracula┃chica┃bridgette bardot┃barbie┃wendigoon┃hawkhatesyou┃tinkerbell┃bela dimitrescu┃loeylane┃cjades┃

Games:

┃skyrim┃resident evil┃silent hill┃outlast┃fallout┃alice madness returns┃bg3┃fnaf┃mw2┃

books:

┃haunting adeline┃pride and prejudice┃the seven husbands of evelyn hugo┃my life at rose red┃blue is for nightmares┃im thinking of ending things┃the haunting of hill house┃the hunger games┃

Artists:

┃kesha┃halsey┃avril lavigne┃evanescence ┃paramore┃melanie martinez┃flyleaf┃billie eilish┃lana del rey┃ethel cain┃stevie nicks┃ptv┃sws┃creed┃

Media:

┃deathnote┃berserk┃soul eater┃the phantom of the opera┃nosferatu┃jersey shore┃the conjuring┃the roommate┃disturbia┃rose red┃midsommar┃13 ghosts┃house of wax┃the messengers┃twilight ┃jeepers creepers┃H20 years later┃labyrinth ┃ghost ship┃haunting of hill house┃YOU┃gothika┃thebatman┃scream┃RED┃coraline┃monster high┃ncis┃criminal minds┃alice in wonderland┃sanrio┃nana┃supernatural┃gilmore girls┃bridgerton┃ahs┃mlp┃the crow┃k-12┃priscilla┃

hehe did this for fun :)

very long but pls interact im very friendly 

[vladdyissues]

Fair Catch

Sequel to We Have A Problem

A pair of powerful white headlights bored through the November night, illuminating the way for a glossy black Aston Martin to prowl up the mile-long driveway. The house at the end hardly fit the appellation; it was a castle, pennants waving from the towers, the front façade illuminated by a battalion of landscaping spotlights.

The car pulled into a detached garage, and moments later Vlad Masters strolled into his domicile, still decked in Packers green and gold and toting a foam cheesehead under his arm.

“What a game!” he crowed for the hundredth time. He tossed his keys into a bowl on a side table and moved into the kitchen, offloading some of his accoutrements. Merrily humming the Packers fight song, he flounced to the fridge and grabbed a 12-ounce longneck of Wisconsin King. He popped the top with a metallic clink and knocked back a mouthful of premium Grade A milk as if it were beer.

“Thirty-four to thirty one!” He danced a little jig. Mercifully, no one was present to see it. “What a game!”

And it had been. Green Bay facing off against the Vikings at Lambeau Stadium. The teams tied in the fourth quarter, 31 and 31, with just two minutes left, until Ryan Longwell made a 33-yard field goal with just three seconds to spare. Perched in his own private VIP lounge overlooking the field, Vlad Masters erupted like a green and yellow volcano, cheering and howling and throwing popcorn and furniture and any of his staff unfortunate enough to be within arm’s reach. His mania endured on the drive home and would likely keep him wired for the next twelve hours. Now came the almost onanistic ritual of basking in the triumphant postgame afterglow. A fine finish to a fine evening.

Bottle in hand, Vlad sauntered to his foyer and flipped on the lights. There it was, his extensive collection of Packers memorabilia, all neatly organized behind glass in special humidity-controlled display cases. He strode by, gazing upon his possessions with the air of a hedonistic king inspecting his coffers: vintage jerseys, photographs, limited edition cheeseheads and scarves, rare items of sports history that rightly belonged in a museum instead of a selfish billionaire’s private collection. And sitting front and center on a pedestal, the most treasured item in his hoard, his beloved, irreplaceable—

Vlad abruptly choked. Milk sprayed from his mouth and nose.

The football autographed by the legendary Ray Nitschke, his most prized possession, was nowhere to be seen.

The bottle slipped from Vlad’s limp fingers and shattered on the stone floor. Hysteria clutched his heart. His stomach dropped to the bottoms of his ugly green oxfords, now spattered with milk. His mind raced through possibilities with the frantic fervor of a mother discovering one of her children missing.

“Did the maids—? No. No, and I didn’t…” The color drained from his face. “I can’t have been robbed. It’s impossible.”

And it was; no one could get through his security system. He’d built it himself using the most advanced tomographic and photoelectric beam technology, and tested it extensively before deploying it over every inch of his property. He checked it regularly and performed scheduled diagnostics and upgrades to keep it cutting-edge. Even if the power were to go out, a generator array would keep the system running independently for months.

At that moment he finally noticed the canary-yellow sticky note planted in the middle of the display stand’s empty prongs. He darted close and leaned over it with wide eyes.

Dear Fruit Loop,

Don’t worry, your ball is safe. FOR NOW. I’m going to hang onto it until you get someone else to narate Knowing Universe. All of it. I don’t care how you do it, but I don’t want to hear your dumb stupid ugly snotty voice on ANY of my shows ever again, got it? If you ever want to see your prescious ball again, you’ll get on this STAT.

Sincerely,

You know who

Vlad clenched his fists—and his jaw, his toes, every muscle in his quivering body. His eyes flared red, the left one twitching spastically. When he exhaled, twin jets of smoke whooshed from his nostrils.

“Daniellllllll!”

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