this is super last minute but i really wanted to make it to show my gratitude and appreciation for all the people that fill my dash with nice things and make this website tolerable. i loved seeing all of you on my dash this year and hope to see you all throughout 2017! i really hope 2017 is good to all of you! thank you again, you are all amazing and ily 💕
Niuxita- she's amazing. She's a feminist who knows her own mind. She's a major fangirl and blows my mind all of the time. She and I have been interacting for years, for over 10 years ago. I'm trying to decide if she'd like Superstore. MRV300- she's been around a bit longer than I have and has seen a lot. She allows her sense of humour to come out to play especially in her tags. Kane-and-Griffin- it's a 100-centric blog but she's so calm and reassuring. She truly is the mom of the kabby fandom.
Obviously, you’re up there, too (yay for such amazing taste, by the
way!) but apparently, Tumblr likes to have a hissy fit when you want to
write a lot in asks.
Hey my dudes! Just wanted to say that if I forget to tag something for Ramadan, PLEASE LET ME KNOW! I will go back and tag it for you! I’m not Muslim, so I’m not exactly sure what all needs to be tagged, so I will be prone to making mistakes! I don’t want to step on any toes with what I reblog, so I hope I can tag things correctly for you! I’ll be tagging with #nsfr for you all!! Much love!!
JONSA WEEK - Day 6 : Songs - 'The Maiden's Choice and The Blessing Song'
Bit of a late entry to day 6 as originally thought up this little fic for the ‘Author’s Choice’ day - however, it does kind of fit the ‘songs’ prompt so thought I’d shoehorn it in there leaving day 7 for me to come up with something else 😀 I hope you enjoy and I hope I tag this correctly!!
Jon makes his way back to the large gathering of raucous wildlings after previously breaking away to speak to a few elders about their settlement’s needs for the soon approaching winter. He pushed past a throng of happy people to finally find Tormund who was stood close at the centre of all the activity, arms crossed, holding one of his skins of fermented goats milk.
“Where’s Sansa”? Jon barked at him. Tormund grinned in response and nodded across the fire that the large group surrounded.
“Joining in” the wildling chuckled.
Jon followed his friend’s line of vision and saw his flame haired cousin stood in amongst a group of spearwives. He felt a wave of irritation bubble and swell slightly in his bones - he’d left Sansa in Tormund’s care while Jon himself was not present and although she was currently only surrounded by womenfolk, should a wildling man decide to steal his pretty cousin, the group they were amongst was large enough for her to be lost quite quickly. He shot his friend a deadly glare.
“Hey - She wanted to know more about our customs” Tormund said, shaking his head with his hands up in surrender. Jon narrowed his eyes in response which in turn caused his friend to chuckle.
Looking back at Sansa across the dancing flames she looked red cheeked and happy. One of the spearwives shoved a skin into her hands and bid her to drink. Sansa gingerly brought it to her lips and winced at the bitter taste before taking another deeper gulp. The skin was then pulled from her grasp as a woman brought a length of thin tanned hide up and over Sansa’s eyes and began tying it at the back of her head. All the women seemed lost in their own merriment.
“What are they doing”? Jon asked, thoroughly confused.
“Your little Lady witnessed 'The Maiden’s Choice’ and wanted to have a go herself” Tormund smiled, taking another chug of his drink.
“What’s 'The Maiden’s Choice’? …. and she’s not 'MY little Lady’” Jon said warningly. Tormund sniggered.
“It’s just a game to warm a dark night like this” he shrugged and gestured towards the crisp night sky.
“What sort of a game”? Jon asked. His concern growing rapidly as he witnessed more drink being poured down a now blindfolded Sansa’s throat before the women started urging her to spin in a circle.
“She will choose a dancing partner for the blessing song” Tormund replied nonchalantly.
“You’re going to have to give me some more information here Gianstbane” Jon growled at his friend. Tormund rolled his eyes.
“The Maiden is robbed of her sight” he gestured towards Sansa. “She must choose a partner from four or five young men by touch alone”. Jon looked back at Sansa, she seemed happy enough to participate in the game, he felt his frown deepen before his friend carried on with his explanation. “Then, when she has chosen, they will dance to the blessing song and be gifted with many strong healthy children”. He finished his description with another swig of goats milk. Jon gawked at his friend.
“And Sansa…..she’s happy with this”? He asked unbelievingly as he witnessed some young wildling men being pulled from the crowd and made to sit side by side on a log. Tormund nodded.
“She saw Gilda play the last round” he gestured towards a couple, who were currently running their hands all over their fur clad bodies as their tongues seemed to be exploring each others mouths. Jon turned his face of rage back to his friend. “It doesn’t always end like that… it’s just a game my friend…. no one’s gonna steal your Lady”.
“You’re making Sansa play a game that will pair her with a man she’s never met to have children together”?! Jon felt the anger boil at his core as he tried to decide whether he should punch his wildling friend or march over to Sansa and drag her away. Tormund let out a booming laugh which didn’t help Jon’s feelings towards him at that very moment.
“Don’t take it so seriously Snow!…no one’s getting stolen!….it’s just a fucking game and a dance for Gods sake!… and I haven’t forced her into anything - Lady Sansa wanted to play”.
Jon took a deep breath and glanced back over at Sansa who now seemed to have moved to in front of the first seated man. She was touching his hair and beard, skimming her delicate fingers across his cheeks and nose. She looked happy enough with a wide grin plastered across her face below her blindfolded eyes.
“Fine” Jon huffed as he raked a hand through his hair. Tormund glanced between Jon and the game now being played and beamed at back at him mischievously.
“Come with me Snow” he laughed as he dragged Jon closer to the game.
Once they arrived at the long log where there sat five young men all grinning and waiting to be assessed via Sansa’s touch, Tormund grabbed the second from last wildling and all but threw him to the ground before he had a chance to complain. He turned back to Jon.
“Take a seat oh great King” he whispered. Jon’s brow furrowed deeper as he contemplated the now vacant place on the log. Sansa seemed oblivious as she had now moved onto feeling the face of the second man. “Sit your arse down for fuck sake” his friend rumbled into his ear before forcibly pushing Jon into the seated position and moved to stand behind him.
There a few mumbles and snickers from the watching crowd but Jon paid them no mind as he surveyed the other men participating in the strange wildling 'game’. They were all grinning like buffoons at the prospect of being chosen by the 'pretty kneeler Lady of Winterfell’. Jon bristled at the thought of any of these participants getting ideas of stealing her away.
Sansa was slowly stroking a finger down wildling number two’s face. When she reached the corner of his mouth, the man playfully nipped at her finger with a growl causing Sansa to pull away quickly and giggle. The crowd erupted into hoots and hollers. She moved onto number three, next to Jon.
Sansa started with the wildling’s wiry hair, smoothing over it with her milk white fingers. Number three leant away from her with a devilish grin, causing Sansa to step closer to him, between his parted knees in order to carry out her blind assessment of the man. Jon moved his hand to the pommel of Longclaw.
Sansa continued her delicate exploration of number three as people cheered and hooted behind them. Jon felt Tormund grip his shoulder and thwack his back a couple of times. He didn’t turn to face his friend, he was too busy keeping an eye on the man next to him.
Number three nudged Sansa with his knee a little, causing her to wobble unsteadily on her feet. She giggled once more and placed a steadying hand on the man’s shoulder. Jon’s grip on Longclaw tightened. He tried to give the man a warning glare but their eyes never met - number three was caught up in surveying Sansa’s body up and down quite brazenly as he licked his lips. Some of his friends from behind them jeered and laughed encouragingly.
Jon’s gaze was drawn to the man’s hand that flaxed by his knee. He looked as though he was about to reach out and touch Sansa’s leg through her dress. Jon grabbed a fist full of number three’s thick furs at his chest and jostled him roughly. Sansa yelped a little as the man’s face was yanked away from her touch. She backed away quite quickly as Jon silently got his message across to the wildling in his grasp. If looks could penetrate flesh, then this man would currently be sporting a sizeable hole in his head.
Jon was forced to release his hold on the man when two spearwives began to guide Sansa back to the game and in front of him.
“Your fourth choice Lady Sansa” one of the wildling girls said gleefully. “Make sure you get a good feel of this one” she grinned before retreating to let Sansa resume the game.
Jon gulped thickly as Sansa’s tentative outstretched fingers slowly made their way through the empty space in between them.
He knew that the wildlings were being loud with raucous laughter and drunken singing behind him but somehow it all faded to silence as her soft warm fingertips gingerly brushed each of his cheeks. Sansa’s hands jumped back a fraction at the contact, she giggled a little and then returned her fingers to his skin.
Jon’s eyes fluttered closed of their own accord and it felt like Sansa would be be able to sense his quickening pulse under his needy skin.
It was strange how this was an entirely public setting, with a completely contrived activity, and yet her touches and strokes felt utterly intimate. Jon’s breath came out hot and swirling in the crisp night air as he contemplated just how much he was enjoying Sansa’s touch.
He looked back up at her face as her hands found his hair. She stepped even closer to him, now stood between his parted legs. Sansa started by smoothing her hands over his hair, as she had done with the other men, but she soon began running her fingers through his curls, her nails lightly scraping his scalp in a way that sent a delicious sensation directly down his spine.
Sansa licked her lips and smiled blindly ahead of her as her hands roamed lower back down to his face. She traced the shape of his nose and the line of his beard. She found the scar that marred the right side of his face and ran a delicate forefinger up and down it a few times. He saw her mouth twitch into a small smile where previously she had been lost in concentration.
Sansa started biting at her own lip when she found Jon’s with her gentle touch. She traced the outline of his mouth over and over softly. Jon tried and failed to remember whether she had taken the time to do this with the other participants if the game.
His lips parted unconsciously under her finger and he heard Sansa take in a small sharp breath. Jon was suddenly flooded with the urge to seize her small waist and haul her onto his lap. To capture her mouth with his and allow her tongue to trace his lips as her fingers were currently doing.
Sansa’s hands drifted lower, smoothing over his neck where she would have been able to feel his Adam’s apple bob up and down due to his nervous gulp.
Her fingers found their way under his unclasped mantle as Sansa began to grip and feel his shoulders through his leather jerkin.
She started to move lower, her palms pressing to his chest, causing her to bend down ever so slightly, her copper locks delightfully tickling his face.
“Alright! You’ve got another young man wanting to be touched by a fine Lady! Come on” one of the spearwives huffed as she came up behind Sansa and grabbed both of her elbows to steer her away from Jon and onto man number five.
Jon could have sworn that the disappointed whine noise came from his own body as Sansa was manoeuvred away from him. Brief images of him seizing Sansa and lifting her over his shoulder to 'steal’ her the wildling way flitted through Jon’s mind.
Thoughts that he had tried to dampen down over the last year began to spring fourth, breathing life into hopes that he’d previously weighted down and squashed through fears of inadequacy and rejection.
He glanced back at the other male participants in this strange wildling game. None of which were good enough for Sansa to choose. HE wasn’t good enough for Sansa to choose. King in the North they called him, and yet she was still, and always would be above him. Too good. Too lovely. Too beautiful. Untouchable.
“I’ve made my choice” Sansa’s voice came through the fog of his thoughts loud and clear. He hadn’t even realised she’d finished feeling the last man’s face.
“You know what to do then Lady Sansa” the spearwife who had guided her to each participant urged. Sansa nodded to no one in particular, her eyes still covered by the hide blindfold. She took a deep breath and smiled to herself.
Taking small steps with outstretched hands she felt man number fives shoulder.
“That’s the last man you felt my Lady” the wildling woman informed her. Sansa nodded. She reached for Jon’s shoulder blindly next and sunk her fingers into the fur of his mantle once she found it.
“And that’s the second to last” the wildling said. Sansa nodded once more.
Jon thought that perhaps she would pass over him and choose one of the first three men. His breath caught in his throat and he felt his cheeks heat against the cold night air when instead of passing over him, Sansa seated herself on to Jon’s lap and draped her arms around his neck. His own arms automatically found their way to her waist.
“This one” she called out resolutely. Cheers and laughter erupted around them and Sansa swayed a little on his leg, as she too let out a sweet laugh.
“Claim him! Claim him! Claim him”! Came the chants from all around them, mixed with singing and hollering.
Sansa laughed again, dipping her still blindfolded head backwards before she reached out to cup Jon’s cheek. She found his lips with a brush of her thumb first of all and then pressed her own against them. Jon was lost to her instantly. His grip on her waist tightened as he squeezed her body tight to his and groaned into her mouth. Sansa emitted a noise akin to both a squeal and a giggle while her hand that had cupped his cheek moved to fist at his furs, pulling him closer to her.
While their lips were still locked together, in total sync with the others push and pull, both their hands grasping and pawing without regard for their onlookers, someone yanked Sansa’s blindfold away and both of their eyes blinked open in unison as they parted.
Jon wasn’t sure what he was expecting Sansa to do once she realised that it was him she’d chosen and had let devour and grope her whilst she perched on his lap. A look of disgust? A bought of hysterical laughter?
His brain half managed to string a sentence of apology together but before he had chance to voice it, Sansa had crashed her lips back against his and buried her fingers in his hair. They both let out throaty moans when their tongues began to dance together. The loud noises from the crowd disappearing from Jon’s ears.
“Alright! Alright! Put her down! You may be a fucking King Jon Snow, but you know as well as I do that that’s not how you kneelers treat your Ladies” Tormund bellowed in Jon’s ear as he clasped him roughly on the back.
Jon pulled away from Sansa, both of them panting slightly and sporting red swollen lips.
“Did…did you know it was me”? Jon asked still a little unsure of himself.
Sansa raised an brow and began tracing his scar above his eye as she had done whilst blindfolded. “Maybe” she replied in a low honeyed voice and a wicked grin.
Somewhere alongside them a drumming rhythm started up and all the wildlings began singing a merry tune.
“Come on” she whispered into his ear “we have to dance to this song if you’re going to give me many a strong healthy babe”.
HAPPY CHRISTMAS LUCY @emmasinthebooknow. IT IS I, YOUR MOST SECRETIVE OF SANTAS. As you wished, your gift is super Christmassy, and I have compiled a few of your favourite Christmas things together to do it :)
It has been such a ridiculous delight getting to know you, I hope you have a great time with your family today and I also hope we continue to stump each other with the hard hitting questions of “what is your favourite ___?” :p.
Walking in a Winter Wonderland ~ A CSSS AU (slightly influenced by The Holiday)
There was a drunk man singing on her doorstep.
Sure, it wasn’t terrible singing (if you ignored the slurring of the word ‘wonderland’ every so often), but regardless, it was three in the morning and there was a drunk man singing on her doorstep.
Emma was kind of furious. She’d only just managed to get to sleep about an hour ago, as she was incredibly unsettled in the unfamiliar and freezing house (the heating of which left a lot to be desired). The offer to housesit for a perfect stranger had been so ideal at first. Her new colleague Elsa had sworn black and blue that the family friend was sound, and the offer reliable. Emma had made the decision to move to England so that Henry could be closer to the father he was just beginning to know, but Neal had asked to take him away for Christmas. So, while the two of them were off scampering on their own father-son holiday getaway, Emma decided to have a break for herself.
However, in the end it had less to do with a break for herself, and more to do with finding something to distract her from the ache that was caused by missing Henry.
(The longest she’d ever been away from him was a week, when he’d gone on a school skiing trip, and so the next three weeks were bound to prove interesting.)
Hence, the housesitting. It was the perfect promise of an escape, the promise of a quiet moment -
Which was the exact opposite of what she was getting now.