They mean to scare me. The fool hopped on Jaime’s back, giggling, as the Dothraki swaggered toward him. The goat wants me to piss my breeches and beg his mercy, but he’ll never have that pleasure. He was a Lannister of Casterly Rock, Lord Commander of the Kingsguard; no sellsword would make him scream.
Sunlight ran silver along the edge of the arakh as it came shivering down, almost too fast to see.
“Sister, why has Father brought us here?” “Us? This is your place, Brother. This is your darkness.” Her torch was the only light in the cavern. Her torch was the only light in the world. She turned to go. “Stay with me,” Jaime pleaded. “Don’t leave me here alone.” But they were leaving. “Don’t leave me in the dark!” Something terrible lived down here. “Give me a sword, at least.”
CLINT TAKING HIS BABY TRICK OR TREATING. CLINT DECORATING THE APARTMENT FOR CHRISTMAS. DAD CLINT
CLINT AT THE KINDERGARTEN ORIENTATION DAY SITTING IN ONE OF THE TINY CHAIRS. CLINT WORRYING ABOUT HOW MUCH LUNCH TO PACK EVEN THOUGH HE HAS MADE SO MANY LUNCHES AT HOME HE SHOULD BE A LUNCH VETERAN BY NOW BUT IT’S NOT THE SAME. CLINT NEVER ACTUALLY GOING TO BED ON CHRISTMAS EVE BECAUSE HE STAYED UP PUTTING TOGETHER THE WHOLE TOY SO IT WOULD BE AN AWESOME SURPRISE.
anon requested:Dorian and Lavellan are like cats in the sun lying over each other during peacetime and awkward cullen gets jealous and shows his feelings through possessive sex and Lavellan is all “oh so that’s why your face was all crinkly around me and dori”
They had managed to clear out a secluded area of Skyhold that had been overlooked in the initial reconstruction, grass as tall his ankles, thick and lushly green. At some point this section had been boarded up and forgotten, a hidden garden, but the Inquisitor had loosened the boards enough to allow a gap for someone to slip through.
It was a tight fit for Cullen, who had to duck beneath the low, stone archway and squeeze himself through the rough wood and stone. He had been searching for the Inquisitor for the better part of two hours when Leliana had suggested—with a knowing wink—that Cullen try that little garden no one had bothered with. I believe Lady Lavellan has made it something of a pet project.
As far as ‘pet projects’ went she hadn’t done much with the space, only flattening the grass in a small plot of land to place a blanket. Leliana had been right, though. The Inquisitor reclined there, probably having spent the last few hours ignoring whatever duties she had for the day.
YOU SIGNED UP FOR THIS. Cullen/Inquisitor - blasphemy (take that how you will)
extremely blasphemous, nc17 you have been warned
It was because she was laughing, and Cullen decided he had to kiss and taste that unbridled happiness, even with the stone, solemn eyes of Andraste watching him. Maker help him, but he was a weak, weak man, a sinful one.
And as her arms looped over his neck, sigh passing her lips and into his mouth—an unrepentant one as well.
“Door,” Saoirse said between pressing hungry, open-mouth kisses to the corner of his lips.
SPECIAL KUDOS THIS YEAR TO THE USUAL SUSPECTS (and by usual suspects i mean people who were around liking posts or replying to my commentary or just here jeynepoole - thatbluebox - odairjohanna - claryfrays - killthefez - alohomorashlie - percyjacksons -lehayed - clinttbarton - cryingosling - shrlockholmes - felicitysmoaked - jemmasimmns - kscodders - odairjohanna - braincase - snowflakessam - isabelculpeper - isaaclaheyses - machievel - timetravelings - ellenfanshaw - favorfire - cborgias - aryastarque - gendrie - winguardiumleviosar - agentbabecooper - clarandtwelve - andreapoli - heavensby - paolarogue - arrestomomentum - ladislaws - highsparrow - cassiecains - timetravellings - aramishbadboystuber - evieoneill - captainmander - moffating - thejazzdalek - turnerandcandykane - kingskrule - fuckitfireverything - i feel like i am missing EVERYONE on this list so TO BE EDITED/DEVELOPED
clint/bucky they got each other christmas gifts and CUTE FLUFF IDK
Bucky toyed with the gift, feeling embarrassed and worried as he lingered in the hall. He’d seen the gift under the tree from Clint, all wrapped up haphazardly in purple paper, and Bucky had had no idea what to get him. There were all kinds of stupid things out there - getting watches and sweaters and books, get cologne, get whatever - that seemed too romantic and over the top and just stupid. The last thing Bucky wanted was to be over the top and stupid, but what do you get for a guy who was stubborn about his zero upgrades policy, at being stuck in whatever appropriate time before cell phones.
Bucky sighed, toyed with the little wrapped box again. He felt stupid, really. Stark had gotten him a super expensive bottle of cognac, Steve some new ‘nocks or whatever Clint called them, Kate had gotten him a cell phone that was still sitting in its box, to be returned. Good things, usable things. Not… this.
He smelled coffee, heard Christmas music (who knew Clint liked it?) and knew he ought not to dawdle any longer.
He found Clint on the couch with reindeer antlers and found himself grinning as he sat down next to him, badly wrapped gift in hand. Clint leaned over and kissed him before pressing a glass of the cognac into his hands. “Drink.”
Bucky tipped it back. “Here, Merry Christmas, or whatever.” He didn’t have a lot of happy memories of Christmas, not anymore. Some memories of the base were okay, and he had warm ones of teaching his sis to skate, but ever since the war had started Bucky couldn’t think of one that wasn’t tinged with pain. He didn’t know what to say or do.
Clint tore the paper open though, and crowed with happiness. “Dog Cops with special never before seen Pilot episode and footage!” he set down his glass and turned to kiss Bucky hard, before pulling away to look at this special edition box set. “This is the best, thanks! Beats the hell out of the Blueberry Kate sent me.”
“I think that’s Blackberry.”
“Whatever.” Clint ripped off the plastic. “She knows better. That’s probably a gag gift, payback for sending her crossbow bolts. There’s a Christmas episode! Here,” Clint shoved a box at him, “open this while I put it on.”
Bucky just laughed as Clint scrambled for the DVD player, and opened his gift. He laughed to see the ugly knitted sweater, with reindeer and sleighs and other silly things, and he pulled it on at once. What fell out, though, was a ring and for a heart stopping moment Bucky wondered if he was getting proposed to before he noticed the pattern, one he’d seen before.
Clint was flushed red as Bucky picked it up and looked at it. “It’s a claddagh,” said Clint, shuffling, the Dog Cops menu playing behind him. “Um, you know, it-“
“I know,” said Bucky, pointing the heart towards himself as he slid it on his hand.
Clint grinned, and Bucky pulled him onto the couch. He kissed his neck, feeling warm in his silly sweater and full of expensive booze. “Thanks, Tweety.”
“You,” Natasha drawled, sliding one fishnet-encased leg over Clint’s thigh, “are a true martyr.”
“What can I say?” Clint rolled his knuckles along the slender limb, callouses catching on the lace. “I’m all about taking one for the team.”
She made an noncommittal noise, drowned over the sound of some weird retro-techno-dubstep-shit (Clint preferred the classics), and slid gracefully into his lap. The little corner he had sequestered for himself was about private as it got into high-priced strip club. But Natasha had a perfect view of their mark over his head.
Her fingers slid through his hair, tugging lightly at his scalp.
“It’s nice to see you putting your ballet skills to good use,” he drawled, leaning back back into the plush seating. Natasha had asked him to integrate himself as a usual customer, that way she wouldn’t have to worry about breaking some mook’s fingers that got a little handsy.
Because Clint, you know, he was all professionalism all the time. It was practically tattooed on his ass.
His head rolled back as she did a little wiggle-hop move on his lap. “Okay,” he muttered. “There isa limit to how much a man can take, Tasha.”
“It's Candy,” she said, bracing her hands behind him. Her breasts brushed against his chin, clad in cheap rhinestones and an ungodly amount of glitter.
“No. I’m pretty sure it’s ball-breaker.” She grinded against him, and this was supposed to look as realistic as possible but he hadn’t really wanted to get an actual hard-on in some skeavy strip club. “Christ, Tasha.”
“Hush.” Her teeth cut the top of his ear and bit down lightly and Clint suddenly decide this retro-techno-dubstep-shit was his new favor genre of music. It was at least muffling his near-agonized groan. “Next time, you can give the dance. I’ll be sure to tip better than you. Now put your hands on my ass.”