INCLUDING: trees / ride / truce / heathens / stressed out / migraine / the judge / kitchen sink / goner / lovely / house of gold / miss believer / addict with a pen / implicit demand for proof / holding on to you / lane boy / car radio / guns for hands
“Hard day hon’?” Kylo slung his arm about Hux’s shoulder, feeling him sag against his chest as he loosened his tie.
“Like you wouldn’t believe.” Hux sighed, sinking into the twin comforts of both Kylo and the couch. He squeezed gently at Kylo’s thigh, eyes fluttering closed as a light kiss was pressed to his forehead. “But I’m feeling better already.”
Commission from the absolutely wonderful @sigalawin <3 Thank you so, so much!
This Shallura thing is getting ridiculous to be honest. I literally come back on here to see everyone on my dash screaming at each other over a sentence said at wondercon. Just one sentence caused this whole thing.
Yeah, it’s possibly canon that Allura is a teenager, and some believe that sinks her ship with Shiro. These characters are fictional, and if you shipped them before, nobody is stopping you. Age-gap relationships aren’t wrong as long as they’re consensual. Remember that.
If you cannot support Shallura anymore because of this, than you don’t have to bring down those who are continuing on and vice versa. Just remember that this show brought us all together, and we can’t let it tear us apart.
And honestly, if you have nothing nice to say about this situation, just stay away from it. Focus on other things, like Pidge’s birthday, the possibilities of Klance being canon, and Prince Lotor’s face reveal. There’s so much good in this fandom, just don’t let the dark cancel out the light.
I’m probably gonna get so much hate for this, but this fandom is already mad at each other so ig it doesn’t matter. Promise me you’ll be nice, okay? 💝💝
Ivar got whiny and made me write my axe throwing prompt from his point of view.
“Care to raise the stakes?”
He gives her a cocky smile, knowing it will help provoke her into agreeing to this. He knows exactly how to push all her buttons. He spends all his time with her, all his time studying her. She is his favourite subject.
“How so?” She asks, twirling her axe between her fingers. He smiles wider.
“If you lose, you must pay the penalty,” he says.
She raises one eyebrow at him. “What’s the penalty?”
He gives her his most wicked look. “Whatever I say it will be. After you lose.”
He has many ideas. They all involve him finally getting what he wants: her tender flesh under his hands and his name spilling from her pretty red lips.
“And if you lose?” She asks.
He shrugs. “Same thing. You will decide a penalty for me. But you know I never lose.”
He can see the cogs turning in her head. She knows he is a very good shot. They have trained together since they were children and he has always been able to best her. Still, he knows her better than he knows himself. She is competitive, and he is positive she will not back down. She doesn’t back down from anything. It’s one of the things that attracts him to her.
“Alright, I accept,” she says, and he feels a pulse of victory inside him. “Let us begin.”
He goes first, as he always does. He situates himself on his stump, getting his shot lined up. He can feel her eyes on him. It makes an involuntary shiver skitter across his skin. Those doe-like eyes, how he wants them to stare at him with desire and need. He can feel a red stain creeping up the back of his neck. He mentally berates himself for getting distracted and lines up his shot. A few deep breaths, then he throws. It hits the centre of the target.
He cannot help but feel smug. “A perfect bullseye.” He turns to look at her. “Your turn.”
He watches her as she prepares. She is almost goddess like in his eyes, so tempting and alluring. He has wanted her since she grew out of being a child and became a woman. She can drink, she can fight, she takes his shit and gives it right back. And she is so, so beautiful. He must have her. He feels like he will die if he doesn’t.
She makes her throw, and of course it hits the middle. She will not let him win easily. He expected nothing less.
But he still grumbles.
“Hah!” She laughs, and he cannot help his heart faltering at the sound. “I may win yet, oh mighty prince.”
He just snorts at her confidence, and they continue on.
He’s doing well, but not as well as usual. He’s distracted. Every time she makes a throw he thinks of what he will ask of her if she loses, and he loses his grip on his concentration. He can almost taste her sweet lips, can almost feel the warmth of her body underneath his and it is driving him mad.
Still, he makes it to the final throw only a tiny pace behind. She needs to make a perfect shot to win. He feels confident he has this, and the excitement swells within him.
She steps up for her final throw……and hits the target dead on. He cannot believe it. His heart sinks into his boots.
“Yes!” She cries, throwing her hands into the air. “I am victorious!”
His chance is lost. He feels an overwhelming frustration creep into his bones. “I cannot believe this,” he groans, rubbing his face in his hands. “I never lose!”
“Well, Ivar, today you have,” she says, walking towards him. “Now you have to pay up! Hmm, what shall your penalty be?”
He cannot have this. His frustration reaches a boiling point, and on pure instinct he reaches out and grabs her by her shirt and pulls her towards him. She lets out a gasp of surprise as they collide. He grasps her hip in one hand, the other takes hold of her chin and holds her face up. Big eyes stare back into his, confusion written in them. He can see every tiny mark on her skin, could count every eyelash, he is that close. He thinks of what he has let slip through his fingers and he nearly shakes in rage.
“I do not like to lose,” he growls at her, his hand slipping from her chin and sliding down to her throat. His fingers flex, revelling in the feel of the creamy flesh underneath them.
“Too bad,” she says, and her weapon-worn hands come to rest on his chest. “I won fair and square. You have to pay.”
He cannot help but squeeze her throat gently, momentarily transfixed by the way his hand looks there. “What is your penalty?” He finally says, voice odd and somewhat raspy. It’s her closeness. It makes him crazy, her warmth and scent so close but still out of reach.
She looks up at him from under thick lashes. “You have to kiss me,” she whispers. “Hard.”
He blinks. Did she just say she wants him to kiss her? Is he getting so delusional over her that he is imagining things now? What he has wanted but has always been too afraid to ask for, did she really just propose it?
“What?” He asks, confused.
Her face falls, her brows drawing together in an almost forlorn expression. She begins to babble. “I mean, no, that is silly, you do not, not unless you want-”
He can’t hold it in any longer. Of course he wants. He always wants. And maybe, this means she wants it just as badly. He leans in and cuts her off by pressing his lips to hers.
She tastes divine. Her lips are soft and sweet and he thinks he’s an idiot for waiting this long to claim them. He devours her with a ferocious hunger, like a man denied a meal for far too long. It’s too much and too little all at once.
And she kisses him back. She moans softy into his mouth and works her lips against his like she is just as hungry for him as he is for her. Her hands are running all over him and he feels a heat spreading over his body. Instinctively, the hand on her throat tightens. She presses herself closer to him, the kiss they are sharing deepening at his actions. Surprise runs through him.
She likes it. She likes his hand squeezing her throat. He groans in desperate pleasure at the realization. What else will she let him do to her, the wicked little vixen? Will she let him put his silver blade to her skin? Will she let him bind her wrists with rope? He reaches up and grabs her hair in his excitement. Again, she does not shy away, and he could cry with the delight of it.
He tears his mouth from hers and moves to the skin of her jaw, leaving sucking kisses as he explores.
“Some penalty this is,” he growls, needing her to know his intents, "when it is all I have ached for since you grew into a woman.”
She sucks an breath. "Really?” She sounds surprised. It makes him want to roll his eyes. Instead, he gives her earlobe a sharp nip.
“Do not be daft, woman,” he says. “Why do you think I spend so much time with you?” He traces his tongue up over her ear and is rewarded with a deep shudder.
"I thought you just liked to bother me.” She replies, voice unsteady.
“Hmmm, well you are rather delicious when you are angry,” he hums, tugging her hair so he can expose the lovely expanse of her throat. He moves his hand so he can explore the tempting new area with his mouth. Her skin is so warm and soft, he wants to sink his teeth into every inch he can reach. He starts by raking his teeth across her skittering pulse.
“Are you as good at handling a woman as you are with an axe?” Her voice is whiny, and it nearly breaks him. He pulls back to examine her. She looks utterly delicious, cheeks flushed red, pupils dilated and lips kiss-stung. She’s looking at him like she cannot wait for him to pounce. He knows for certain now, this is not and has never been one sided. He lets his desire for her show all over his face. She shivers under his gaze, and he thrills at the thought of what he is about to finally, finally do.
“Wouldn’t you like to find out,” He growls, inching a hand up under her shirt.
He knows he’s just as good with a woman as he is with a weapon. Judging by her dazed and satisfied expression when he’s finished with her, she now knows it too.
And he’s pretty sure his bed is going to be quite nice and warm for many, many nights to come.
I just enjoy some good ol’ axe throwing way too much.
<b><p></b> <b>Negan:</b> I love a gal that takes me to dinner and doesn’t expect me to put out... *Whispers in Rick's ear* If <I>I</I> ever cook <I>you</I> dinner though Rick, the same logic does not apply to you. And you don't even want to know what I'd do to you if you stood me up.<p/><b>Rick:</b> *next week on the supply run with Aaron* This boat has a hole in it, keep paddling and we will... Shit! Negan is cooking me spaghetti, I forgot!<p/><b>Aaron:</b> Are you paddling Rick?! This boat is sinking awfully fast... Rick?... Rick?!<p/><b>Rick:</b> *reversing violently away in the truck* You got this Aaron! I believe in you!<p/><b>Aaron:</b> *sinking* RIIIIICK!!<p/></p><p/></p>
Hey Sai! I've started an original series but I don't know how to get the story rolling. Do you have any advice on finding inspiration and on storytelling?
Ah, a big question;
Here’s an important rule of storytelling I find a lot of people starting out completely miss out in:
Create the world it revolves around. What kind of world does it take place in? What’s normal, and what are the rules of the world? Is it a real-life world where everyone is a normal human being? A fantasy world filled with dungeons and dragons? A futuristic world with robots and cyborgs? Build it with every little detail. It’s going to be your foundation.
Because once you set down the rules and basics of the where the story takes place in, it will:
1. Set your mind a little closer to what kind of goals and plots your story will go through.
2. Develop a culture, a society, a rule, so your designs and thoughts don’t go all over the place.
3. Help you develop proper characters that can be tailored to fit the story, make them and the story more believable because they just sink into the world so perfectly.
There’s a lot of factors that go into storytelling, but hopefully these basics will help you get started.
Lessons learned by her paper heart
Are pulled from the mire
Enraptured from the divine
Sinner not saint
Though she prays for release
Never to enter
Always forced to believe.
Sink to the level
Where pain is a boon
From the vacuum of nothingness
Oh how it consumes
The mother, the child, the scared little girl
Dressed up like an adult
Pretending she’s in control of her world.
The race is far longer
Than she can run at responsibility’s heels
So she slows to a crawl
Wondering how this became real.
The sinner, the fallen, the goddess on her knees
Pleads for the strength
To stand up and to be
More than the soft-hearted
Sacrificed to gain what she sought
On the altar of freedom
And worldly forgive-me-nots.
Alone in the darkness
Lamenting the day she forgot she could shine
When the moondust in her hair and starlight burning eyes
Dimmed to long forgotten madness
To seek chaos as her friend
With loneliness her eternal lover
Beckoning her slowly with a grin.
Weary though she walks it
Her course of macabre delights
Ever on she carries herself
Deeper into endless night.
Much to Tony’s dismay, prom season approached much faster than he would have liked. “Didn’t we just celebrate Christmas? What is this prom talk?!” He blurted out one morning at breakfast while you were talking to Nat about it.
You stared at him, your spoon right above your cereal. “Are you finally losing it? Did one of your thingys go haywire?” He gave you a face as you teased him. It was no secret that while you could likely help him now and then with smaller things…you had no interest in ever stepping foot in his work room.
“Ha. Ha.” He said as you rolled your eyes. “Can I make her five again?” Tony looked at Bruce. “Make her small? Before the sassy comebacks, smartass remarks, and the whole ‘prom’ thing…” He said it as if it was the worst thing ever.
Bruce shook his head. “Sorry, no can do.” He got up, sipping his coffee. “I’m actually chaperoning at the prom. So is Clint, Nat, and Thor.”
Tony looked offended. “Why was I not asked? And where do I sign up?” If you were going to be in a room full of half drunk teenage boys, he’d want to keep an eye on you.
You got up and patted his shoulder as you went by. “They were a month ago.” He gasped, making you chuckle. “And you know why I didn’t ask.” You told him, putting your dish in the sink. “I believe chaperones are supposed to keep the kids out of trouble. Not join in and make it worse.” Pulling your hair up, you grabbed your backpack.
“Wait.” He stopped you. “You invited Thor over me? He’s like Goldilocks on steroids. He’s going to attract teachers and teenage girls like a damn shoe sale.” He all but pouted.
That made you laugh. “Then they won’t be getting into trouble in some hall closet, will they?”
Tony let you go and then it hit him what you said. “What? Hall closets? What’s going on at that school?” He groaned as you simply waved at him from the elevator. Turning back to the others, he noticed how they were all trying not to laugh. “Oh, yeah, ha ha. Laugh it up. Just wait until you have kids in high school!”
“We have you. Who needs kids?” Nat teased with a smirk. “Besides, she’s a good kid. Clearly you aren’t who she takes after.”
He thought about it for a moment and nodded. “Yeah, that’s probably a good thing.” Tony mused, shoving his hands in his pockets before heading to the elevator.
“Where you going?” Clint asked, curious.
“My workroom.” He called back over his shoulder. “Oh, and Nat? You and Pepper are on dress duty this weekend. Nothing too tight or revealing.”
Nat raised an eyebrow. “You want her to look like a nun, don’t you?”