how could a man (woman) ever do that

MARVEL asks
  • Avengers: What superpower would you like to have?
  • Iron Man: What is your favourite piece of technology?
  • Captain America: What is your sexuality?
  • Black Widow: Share a secret.
  • Thor: What is your religion?
  • Hawkeye: What is your favourite movie?
  • Hulk: How strong are you?
  • Loki: What is the biggest mistake that you have ever made?
  • Scarlet Witch: If you could change one thing in the world, what would it be?
  • Quicksilver: Have you any siblings?
  • Vision: What weight are you?
  • Ultron: What is the last text you sent?
  • Ant-man: What height are you?
  • Wasp: What's your full name?
  • Bucky: Who is your best friend?
  • Falcon: Which fictional character would you like to hang out with?
  • Spider-man: What is/was your favourite subject in school?
  • Doctor Strange: Name a special talent you have.
  • Captain Marvel: What do you want to achieve in life?
  • Black Panther: How responsible are you?
  • Spider-woman: What is your favourite smell?
  • Nova: Do you prefer the moon or stars?
  • Luke Cage: What job do you want?
  • Jessica Jones: What is your favourite memory?
  • Daredevil: What is your favourite song?
  • Iron Fist: What is your favourite food?
  • Ms. Marvel: Who is your idol?
  • X-men: What social issue do you feel strongest about? (sexism, racism, etc.)
  • Professor X: What are you thinking about right now?
  • Cyclops: Do you wear glasses?
  • Rogue: What is your crushes name?
  • Magneto: What country are you from?
  • Mystique: What is one thing that you would like to change about yourself?
  • Wolverine: What are you afraid of?
  • Phoenix: What is your favourite book?
  • Storm: What is your favourite type of weather?
  • Beast: What is your favourite animal?
  • Angel: What is your MBTI type?
  • Magik: What is your star sign?
  • Gambit: When is your birthday?
  • Shadowcat: Have you any pets?
  • Groot: What is your favourite flower?
  • Rocket: What languages do you speak?
  • Star-Lord: What is your Harry Potter house?
  • Draxx: Who do you love most in the world?
  • Gamora: What is your worst memory?
  • Medusa: What colour/length/style is your hair?
  • Black Bolt: What is your accent like?
  • Ghost Rider: What is the worst thing that you have ever done?
  • Deadpool: Post a picture of yourself.

justanxietyasks  asked:

I didn't know you were on the mila/yuri friendship train too! it's quickly becoming one of my favorite things to write and read about. got any fave headcanons??

im at the vip car of the mila/yuri friendship train, i dream of being the conductor of the mila/yuri friendship train, mila and yuri are platonic soulmates amen

  • they were childhood friends!! when they found out they were both going to train under yakov they were ecstatic
  • (yuri of course is like EW I HAVE TO SPEND MORE TIME WITH YOU but nah hes very very happy)
  • yuris bowlcut when he was younger was bc of a bet with mila that he lost. she’ll never let him live it down
  • once mila’s boyfriend cheated on her and yuri got so angry he broke into the bf’s house and stole his laptop and game consoles and mila was horrified for exactly .5 seconds before yuri asked if she wanted to play mario kart with him with his new wiiu
  • THEY ARE IN GENERAL EACH OTHERS LOVE CONSULTANT ( “yura do u think he’s cute? // “ehh maybe like a 6/10 u could do better” // “damn ok” )
  • regular!! sleepovers!! with junk food and movies and nail polish!!!!
  • mila calls yuri ‘yura’ very often but yuri only refers to her as ‘milya’ in private
  • thEY ARE EACH OTHER’S BEST MAN/WOMAN IN THEIR WEDDINGS!!
  • mila was honest to god jealous of otabek for sUCH a long time bc she felt like he stole yuri away from her
  • but then she found out yuri liked him and instantly changed her mindset, Wingwoman Mila Engage
  • once yuri pulled sara aside and gave her a long intimidating speech abt how if she ever hurts mila in any way, shape or form, he will end her
  • YURI NAMES HIS FIRST DAUGHTER AFTER HER AMEN GOODBYE DROPS MIC
Lie about love - Dean Winchester x Reader

Title: Lie about love

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader, Castiel x Reader (slight, not really)

Warnings: Possessed Reader

Prompt: Reader gets possessed and tells Dean lies about reader&cas just to hurt him, but then cas comes and exorcises the demon and Dean thinks that what the demon said was true (bc of huggin etc) but then time skip reader tells the truth about her feelings?

“Do you think she’d ever have feelings for you? Dean Winchester?” she scoffed, spite in her voice but Dean couldn’t bring himself entirely to hate it because it was your face, it was your voice, it was your eyes- your everything that he actually loved. He couldn’t bring himself to be strong an face the monster because he was actually facing the woman he loved more than anything. She laughed. But it was not the same laugh that would usually make his heart skip a beat because unfortunately it was no longer you that laughed.

“Like hell” she scoffed “She’d rather kill herself than fall for you, much less get any closer as far as a relationship is concerned.” she said in a hiss “You’re one big damn flaw, Dean. Broken, in every possible way. You are a mess, a man with daddy issues, womanizer and an alcoholic. What would she ever want to do with you?” she scoffed and Dean swallowed down the lump in his throat.

He fought so hard to not let it show how much your words were getting to him.Because he knew it wasn’t yours words exactly it was her words because she was the one speaking. But in the very end she was inside you, she could see all of your thoughts and feelings. How could Dean be sure she was only lying to him?

“Shut up.” Dean growled, his hands not even flexing to throw the holly water at you like he would do with any other demon. He couldn’t bring himself to hurt you not even when it wasn’t actually you.

Keep reading

Paul Ryan Pulls Doomed Health Care Bill at Trump’s Request

The GOP has pulled the Health Care bill that would have repealed and replaced the Affordable Care Act.

“You’ve all heard me say this before — moving from an opposition party to a governing party comes with growing pains and, well, we’re feeling those growing pains today,” House Speaker Paul Ryan said following the announcement.

“This is a disappointing day for us,” he added. “Doing big things is hard. All of us, all of us, myself included, will need time to reflect on how we got to this moment, what we could have done to do it better. … This is a setback, no two ways about it — but it is not the end of the story because I know that every man and woman in this conference is now motivated more than ever to step up on their game, to deliver on our promises.”

Also Read: Trump Rips GOP Over Healthcare: ‘Finally Your Chance for a Great Plan’

President Trump spoke from the Oval Office after Ryan’s announcement, saying that the health care bill fell short in the lead-up to the House vote because of no support from Democrats. “They weren’t going to give us a single vote,” the president said.

He went on to say that he is “open” to tackling health care again if “Obamacare” implodes. “If [Democrats] got together with us and get a real health care bill, I’d be totally open to it. And I think that’s going to happen. If it loses… Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer… now they own Obamacare. They own it. They 100 percent own it.”

Trump added, “It’s imploding and will soon explode. And it’s not going to be pretty.”

Also Read: 'Morning Joe’ Trashes Trump’s Health Care Plan: 'Obviously Stupid Play’ (Video)

With news outlets reporting that 27 Republicans in the House were solidly in the “no” camp and another four likely to follow, the outcome of the bill was in doubt from the get-go. As of Friday morning, the approval of the GOP health care plan was at 17 percent.

“Why would you schedule a vote on a bill that is at 17% approval? Have we forgotten everything Reagan taught us?” former Speaker of the House Newt Gingrich tweeted earlier. MSNBC calls it “a failure marked in the official congressional record.”

House Democratic leader Nancy Pelosi told AP, “Today is a victory for the American people.”

Next on President Trump’s agenda: a pivot to tax cuts and tax reform.

Related stories from TheWrap:

'Morning Joe’ Trashes Trump’s Health Care Plan: 'Obviously Stupid Play’ (Video)

Trump Rips GOP Over Healthcare: 'Finally Your Chance for a Great Plan’

Watch Sen. Maria Cantwell Drag Poor Macklemore Into the Health Care Debate (Video)

Ann Coulter Shreds Donald Trump, Paul Ryan Over 'Obamacare Lite’ Healthcare Plan, Tax Cuts

Republican Congressman Advises Poor Americans to Choose Healthcare Over a New iPhone (Video)

Saving Grace

​​​​​​pairing: lafayette x reader
words: 3000 (i know guys i’m so extra lmao)
warnings: blood, war, things of that nature, ending is literal crap because it’s 5 in the morning
summary: reader is a battlefield nurse who must take care of a wounded Laf, who becomes smitten with his savior.


You had always been different. It was just a fact.

When you were a young girl, only seven, you acquired a reputation with your classmates of being a tomboy. You weren’t interested in such things as clothes and looking pretty—in fact, you hated such ideals. Instead, you preferred to play with the boys in your school, searching for bugs and rocks in the scratched ground, hiking up your skirts in such an undignified manner that your highly proper mother would surely have fainted at the sight.

She was certainly upset when you enlisted to be a battlefield nurse. You had always been interested in medical topics and signed up nearly right after you heard. As soon as she found out, she came flying into the room, managing to look dignified even as her numerous skirts and petticoats flew out behind her in a bustling mass that reminded one of a ship at full sail.

“(Y/N), you have done many unwise things before, but this—” here she waved her hands about helplessly, hopelessly “—this tops them all. How could you, young lady? You could be killed! You could be traumatized or catch an illness and die! What were you thinking?” You rose, incensed.

“Mother,” you said, in a low, angry voice, “this is the only way I can help the Revolution. I can’t fight, I can’t run for office, and I cannot vote. I am hopeful that this will change one day, but I am not about to sit around at home and do nothing! At least this way I am able to help men who can make a difference by saving their lives and putting them back on the battlefield!” Your father had come in by now, drawn into the living room by the loud voices of you and your mother.

“What is going on?” he shouted over the two of you.

“Your daughter—” your mother spat at the same time you said, “Mother doesn't—”

“One at a time,” your father said, spreading his hands in a gesture that clearly meant slow down.

“Your daughter has enlisted to become a battlefield nurse,” your mother said angrily. “I have tried to warn her of the dangers of such a profession, but she refuses to listen. Dear, please tell her not to go.” You uncrossed your arms, gazing intently at your father’s face. You knew his abolitionist beliefs ran deep, causing him to support the ongoing rebellion. Doubt played over his face; he was clearly torn between his beliefs and love for you and the desire to please his wife. He opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“As disappointing as it will surely be to you, my dear,” he said, motioning to your mother, “I have to agree with (Y/N). She is able to help our country in this position and I believe it will be better for her than just sitting at home and revolving through the social circles.” Your mother’s face grew stormier still.

“We have no country! We belong to England! It is simply a passing phase, a small period of rebellion that will be subdued! And (Y/N) needs to become acquainted with the ins and outs of social life! It’s the only way to find her a suitable match and you know it!” she cried.

You sighed. This again. “Mother, I want to choose the man I marry. Love shouldn’t be forced. It should be mutual and founded on deep trust and respect. I’m not interested in flirting and gossip. When the right man comes along, I’ll just—well, I’ll know it.” You and your father both knew what came next—the long spiel about how your parents’ marriage had been arranged and how they were just as happy as any natural couple.

He dragged your mother out of the room with a soft “Let’s go, dear,” and a pitying look that you knew meant he would try to talk some sense into her. He must have been somewhat successful, for you were off to training in a matter of days.

There were twenty other young women in the class with you, which was considered a high number, and you were put under the charge of the local doctor, who was known to be surly at the best of times. However, your talent became clear and you soon left everyone behind in terms of progress. He couldn’t help but admire your skill, and he gave you many kind, if rather gruff and grudging, compliments.

After three weeks of training, it was clear that you needed to be sent out to the lines as soon as possible. Someone with your level of skill couldn’t be left behind; you were needed. You were told that you would be sent out to a battlefield to serve Continental troops under General George Washington. He was famous everywhere, and you were always swamped with questions at social events.

The ride to the camp was somewhat lacking in comfort; you rode in a carriage drawn by a horse who seemed bent on running the vehicle across every single rut and stone lying in the street. However, you emerged from the two-hour ride all in one piece, if a battered and bruised one. You were greeted by a young soldier who looked to be about twenty years of age. He snapped a crisp salute.

“Miss (Y/N), ma'am?”

“Yes, that’s me. The new nurse.”

“I am Sergeant Locke. I have been ordered to show you to your quarters. Doctor Scott will show you everything you will need to know tomorrow.” There was something odd about the man—he wasn’t even in a proper uniform, but he exuded all the cocky confidence of a British officer. It wasn’t exactly a negative thing, it just seemed odd and out-of-place in such a situation.

“Thank you, Sergeant.” He held out a hand for your luggage and marched smartly to a small tent towards the center of the camp.

“This one’s yours, ma'am,” he said, placing your suitcase on a small table made of dark wood in one corner of the tent. “Try to sleep. It may be the only rest you get for who knows how long.” He left on this cheery note.

You dropped into the single straight-backed chair, exhausted, and looked around the bleak interior of the tent that was now yours. You didn’t know what the next day, week, month, however long, held for you. Death and suffering beyond imagining would be manifested to you, and you knew that it would shape you for the rest of your life. Of course, you didn’t realize just how important your service would end up being. You were just concerned with sleep; you needed it after that horrendous ride. Despite your new surroundings and forebodings of the following day, it came quickly.

——-

Fortunately, Doctor Scott was the nicest man you could ever hope to work for. He was also unexpectedly old. You had imagined a man in his mid-thirties, maybe, but he was around sixty. His hair stood up around his face in a round, white shock, and his clear blue eyes were framed by small rimmed glasses. However, despite his age, his spotted hands were gentle and skilled. You liked him at once, and he couldn’t help but feel the same. You were a young, pretty woman who was clearly passionate about what you were doing. No matter how bad an injury was, you always kept your wits about you and worked calmly in life-or-death situations. Hundreds of lives were saved because of your work. You did so well that General Washington himself commended you on your successful treatments. Everything was going perfectly—that is, until one day, a certain patient came to the medical tent and shattered life as you knew it into shards.

The Marquis de Lafayette.

——

“Critical patient coming! Miss (Y/N), you’re needed!” a minor doctor yelled. Two soldiers came rushing in, stepping quickly but carefully, bearing a stretcher between them. They hoisted it up onto the table and released their grip. You wiped your hands on a towel and hurried over to check the wounded man.

Needless to say, you were blown away.

He he was badly battered and bloodied, but you could see that underneath the caked dirt and dried blood, he was undeniably attractive. His skin was a rich brown color, a nearly perfect match of the coffee you made for your father every morning at home. His hair spiraled from his head in thick corkscrew curls, and his defined jawline was dotted with stubble. His large mouth opened slightly to reveal very white teeth, and his eyes were closed and drawn tight with pain, despite his unconscious state.

You took this all in, then shook your head. “What has happened to this man?” you asked hurriedly.

“Shot in the leg, he was, marm,” answered one soldier. “Blood everywhere, there was. Passed out about a minute after bein’ wounded, I’d say. Shot mighta severed somethin’ important.”

“Thank you,” you said, your mind working quickly. “Please step outside for the time being. I need all the room I can get.” They did as you said, and you got to work, lifting up the cloth covering his lower body.

The wound was much worse than you expected. His entire leg was stained with the blood from the gaping hole in his lower thigh. You quickly tore off part of his pants, trying to subdue the rising color in your cheeks. He made a small, soft groan of pain, and you saw his eyes slowly, and with no small effort, blink open.

Chocolate. His eyes were rich, dark chocolate.

——-

Blurred shapes. A light-colored streak directly in front of him. After the shades came the pain. Then the darkness, the nothingness. But then, too soon, the light was back. No, no, let me go back, he thought. The darkness is better. No pain there. But the light refused to go, would not stop coming at him, growing until he was able to move and was hit with waves of pain. He groaned, the quiet sound too small to express the hurt. Then his eyes opened, two slits of the world revealed.

And what saw made his eyes widen immediately. He didn’t even feel the pain for a moment. He saw what could only be described as an angel.

Her hair was what he saw first. Shiny and soft-looking, it was tied back. Strands of it escaped from its confinement, reaching down to frame her face like a crown. He smiled internally. Your halo is tattered.

The face her hair framed was the most beautiful thing he’d ever witnessed. The soft curves of her cheek, her eyelashes, the more angular lines of her nose, her upper lip. I have never known beauty before now, he thought. Now I have found it.

He sank into the darkness again, but this time, it had to pull at him more insistentently.

——

He had stared straight into your eyes for what seemed forever, then wandered around your face, his mouth parting slightly as if to say something. Then he went under again, and you shook yourself. Get to work, you thought. This man could be dying.

——

He made it through the night. That was the first sign toward a good recovery. A few of his veins had been severed, but you were able to tie up the loose ends. However, his lower leg remained pasty and colorless. You had your doubts about whether or not he would ever regain the use of his leg. The word amputation even crossed your mind a few times. Although you were most worried about the fact that he was still unconscious. He hadn’t felt a thing as you were touching his wound, and that concerned you. However, you decided to clean off some of the dirt and dried blood that caked his face.

You made your way over to his bedside with a bowl of cool water and a cloth and began softly wiping off the grime.

This time, his eyes fluttered open to meet yours, and you were shocked again by the concentration of the color, the intensity of the pure pools of brown. He croaked out something unintelligible, and you leaned closer, furrowing your brow. He tried again, but couldn’t speak. However, you could tell that his mouth was forming the word “water.” Working quickly, you filled a cup with fresh water from a pitcher and held it up to his mouth. He drank with some difficulty, then sank back onto the pillows, exhausted. You looked concernedly at him. His eyes found their way to your face again, and you couldn’t stop the blush staining your cheeks no matter how hard you tried.

“Your name…What’s your name?” he asked, hoarsely.

“(Y/N),” you told him. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been shot,” he responded, the corners of his mouth twitching up.

You listened to his voice. There was a heavy lilt to his voice; his words were laced with a rich, lovely accent. “Are you—French?” you asked him.

“Oui, mademoiselle. I am Marie-Joseph Paul Yves Roch Gilbert du Motier de Lafayette, Marquis de Lafayette. But those who know me call me Lafayette. It is a sort of a—how you say—nickname.” Your eyes widened. This man was one of the most important men in the Continental Army. You felt even more of a duty to get him back up and fighting.

“And, mademoiselle, I must say that I have seen wonders great and small, but none so stunning as you.” Your eyes widened at the unexpected compliment.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean. I am considered quite…plain at home. Ordinary,” you told him.

“In all of my native France, there has never been a fleur so magnifique.”

You understood enough French to know what he was saying. Feeling suddenly flustered and awkward, you excused yourself. “I…I must be going. Please tell me if you need anything.” He nodded and lay back down.

“Thank you,” he said.

——

However hard you tried, you couldn’t get the Frenchman out of your head. His words swirled through your mind, bringing a smile to your face every time. You were required to administer to him every day, and you savored the time you spent with him. He told you stories about France and you told him about your family, how your mother wanted to arrange every aspect of your life and how you wanted to be free, independent, able to make your own choices. And each time you looked into those chocolate eyes and softly wiped down his forehead and heard his lovely accent, you couldn’t help but fall more in love. Despite his words the first time you spoke, you couldn’t help but feel that he didn’t feel the same. He was an important figure in the newborn American cause, a famous soldier and diplomat. You were just you. The everyday battlefield nurse; nothing special. However, you didn’t see his eyes following you when you were busy around the tent, humming to yourself and straightening up anything that needed it. He saw your instinctive ability to please without trying, to brighten the day of every soldier you cared for. The look in his eyes as he gazed at you would have made you melt, but you were busy and never once thought that he could love you back.

Even General Washington noted how highly he spoke of you when he came to check on your patient.

“Keep treating him well, (Y/N),” he would tell you.

“Yes, sir,” would be your reply.

It wasn’t until he was leaving the medical tent that you realized how much he really meant to you.

You walked into the tent, then stopped short. His bed was empty, unoccupied. You ran out to the door of the tent, and saw his form walking away, steadying himself with a large stick when needed.

“Mister Lafayette!” you called after him.

“Ah, Miss (Y/N),” he responded.

“Where—where are you going?” you asked, anxiously.

“Why, haven’t you heard? I’ve been cleared. You have done your job well,” he told you, grinning his wide smile that never failed to make you go weak.

“Oh,” was all you could say.

“What, does the lovely nurse miss me already?” he asked, teasing in his voice.

“I—I didn’t think you’d leave so soon,” you told him. You had never felt weaker, more powerless in your entire life. “I won’t see you again.”

“My dear lady,” he said, stepping closer to you. “I practically have free range of this camp. I will always find you. Besides, you mean too much to me. I could never leave you behind.” And with that, almost before you knew it, his mouth was on yours and the rest of the world vanished. His lips were finally, finally yours.

You made a small sound and he pulled you impossibly closer to him, his arm snaking around the small of your back, its strength evident. Your hand tentatively reached up to do what you had wanted to do forever, to run your fingers through his mass of ebony corkscrew curls. And it felt so right that you didn’t even think of letting go, of stopping, even when a voice screamed out,

“Good God!”

Sergeant Locke was scandalized.

It is, and I want to be up there with the two people that I love and care about most in the world.

Neither of us were the first, you know.

So know this: today you sit between the woman you have made your wife and the man you have saved – in short, the two people who love you most in all this world.

But, for the record, over the last few years there are two people who have done that.

So here’s a few things you need to know about the man we both love.

I am still amazed how they do not make the slightest distinction between Sherlock’s and Mary’s love for John. Not ever. 

Combine this with  

I know you two; and if I’m gone, I know what you could become.

Well. 

You and me, Ivar...

Originally posted by itsthatunique

GIF not mine

Ivar x Reader

Request:  Hi, I just found your blog last night and I love it. Also if you’re taking request I watched Wonder woman tonight and I feel super empowered as a woman so if you could do one where the girl is like super tall and just bad ass and Ivar is in love with her but doesn’t want to show it. Or something. I don’t know. But yeah.

Tags: @cherrytrinkets

Warnings: none

A/n: I don’t know if this is what you have had in mind, your request let my mind wonder a lot but I hope that you will like the result of your request.

“ She’s so beautiful and she knows how to fight, no wonder you’re in love with her.” Ivar snaps out his gaze as he feel Ubbe ruffling his hair, he knew that he should stop coming here to see you training but he couldn’t stop. He was in love and he knew it even if he was denying it.

“Who are you talking about?” Ivar was not stupid, he knew that Ubbe found out about his feelings but he was still trying to play it cool, he did not needed someone to hear and go tell you. He didn’t wanted you to find out at all, it was better like this than to see the rejection on your face, after all you were the best fighter in Kattegat, people said that you could even beat Lagertha and he had no doubt that you could take her down in no minute, this is why he admired you, because you were strong and smart. and then it came the fact that you did not accepted shit from men and you were not to engage in one night stands. You were not a woman for a night, if someone wanted you it was either forever, or never.

“Don’t try to play games with me brother, you can’t trick me. I saw the look on your face and it’s the same that Hvitserk haves when he looks at Margrethe or food.” Ivar let a little laugh leave his mouth as he found the fact that he could look at someone as his brother was looking at food, hilarious. Ne never though that he could look like that. “Why don’t you talk to her? Why don’t you tell her how you feel?” Ivar’s face went straight, anger and disgust floating in his eyes.

“Do you think that she could love me? A cripple? Brother, (Y/N) is the strongest woman that I ever saw, she knows what she wants and she’s not afraid to fight mans ten times bigger than her. She’s wild and beautiful, she worths so much more than what I can give to her. And I’m sure she heard the rumors, all that she could feel about me loving her would be disgust.” Ubbe shook his head, he knew her better, he knew that (Y/N) was a good girl, but she was acting like that because that’s who she was, she was strong, fearless and she was determined to be the best, she and Ivar would be a power couple thinking about how smart and thirsty for revenge and blood they both are.

“(Y/N) is different and who knows, maybe she loves you too.” Ivar frowned, for him it was impossible to imagine a life with her knowing that she will the most likely laugh in his face if he would tell her about his feelings.


You were fighting when Bjorn arrived to the training fields but you were not as interested in him as you were in winning the battle against the giant in front of you, maybe you where taller than most of the girls but some man could still tower over you with their heights.

You finished the man, fast as he got distracted by a few slaves walking around.

“If all of you act like that when you see a woman, the Christians will send half naked woman on the battlefield so you will lose your mind and get killed.” The man grunted and got up. Bjorn came closer pulling out his sword.

“Would you mind fighting me?” his question made you laugh, a beautiful laugh that made Ivar stop talking with Ubbe and made him look at you. You could feel his gaze on you, as intense as in everyday when he will be here just to see you fight. You knew that he had feelings for you even if you thought that it was just because you were a good fighter not because he really loved you with all that came with you.

“As long as you don’t get distracted by womans I think you could.” Bjorn smirked and attacked but you took a step away making him miss you and that’s how it went the whole hour in which you were fighting, he would attack and you would step away, taking strikes at him when he was vulnerable and anger clouded his mind. He got a few good strikes too but in the end you where the one to win. The new cuts on your body weren’t that bad, they were just three one on your hip, one on your thigh and one on your shoulder. Bjorn smiled at you when your sword was pointed at his neck, you smiled at him too, thing that made Ivar jealous and angry. He was sure that you loved Bjorn, now that he saw you interact, he knew that you will go to him.

“A very good fight, you’re far more better than most of our men.” You were cleaning your sword when Bjorn talked again, a smile spreading on yous lips slowly as you knew what is going to be his next question when he approached you, close enough to whisper to you. “I would like you to come on my chambers tonight.”

“I would be honored my prince but unfortunately I don’t come only for a night, I’m there for a whole life or not at all and anyways even if you would like to take me forever my heart is already taken.” Ivar could hear you talking because you did it out loud, wanting the people around you to know that you’re not available. Ivar felt as if a hand was squeezing his heart and he turned around, crawling away from the training fields.

“Where are you going?” Ubbe asked following his little brother, he was worried for what Ivar might do if someone angered him right then.

“To the hunting cabin, don’t follow me. I need to be alone.”


You were heading home, ready to take a new set of clothes, wash this ones and repair them in the places where Bjorn’s sword cut it and your skin open. 

“(Y/N).” You turned around to see Ubbe running after you, you really didn’t knew why the prince’s were giving you so much attention lately and especially today.

“What’s the matter?” You asked from the door of your house.

“Can I come in, it’s a little bit complicated.” You smiled at Ubbe and let him come in. He took a place next to the fire and you brought a cup of mead of him, taking one for yourself, he took the cup and you sat down next to him, taking a sip of the liquid.

“My brother wants to tell you something but he doesn’t know how, he thinks that if he tells you, you’re going to reject him.” The solemn look on his face gives you an idea about who could be the brother.

“Are we talking about Ivar?” Ubbe nodded and you smiled a little. “Does he want to ask if I want to join the great army?” this time Ubbe turned around and looked you in the eye.

“No, he already knows that you will come. It’s more like matters of the heart.” you were stuck, looking Ubbe in the eye when you finally got the right message and you were happy, you liked Ivar too. He was the one that made you want to fight and become the best shield maiden when he first killed someone as a child. You were fascinated by the blood and fascinated by the little boy who could not walk. Over the years as you saw him growing up you were getting more and more interested in him, seeing how he was not giving up even if he couldn’t walk. You always had feelings for him but you didn’t told him that because love would have blinded you from your purpose of becoming the best shield maiden, of becoming a legend over the years.

“Where is he?” you asked getting up, not even bothering to change your clothes or to close your wounds.

“At the hunting cabin.” you left the room not even caring that you left the prince behind. 


When you opened the door to the cabin you were waiting to be pulled down and A knife to be pressed at your neck, so when you started to fall on your back you already took the sword out, stopping the knife at quite a distance from your face. Ivar’s eyes widened as he saw you and you smiled back at him. He pulled the knife away and you got up walking outside. Ivar followed you and sat on a log right in front of you.

“Fight me.” you demanded throwing a sword at him. He caught it and you attacked over and over, not able to touch him. It was harder to win a fight against Ivar than it was to win one against Bjorn. Finally after attacking and blocking for a long while Ivar made you drop your sword and pressed yoru back against his chest, his sword pressing lightly the skin of your neck.

You were both breathing heavily, a smile spreading on your lips as his breath was hitting the sensitive skin of your neck making the hair rise all over your body.

“I love you too.” You whispered thing that made him stop breathing , the sword falling at his feet. You turned around and looked him in the eye. “The first time I knew I want to be a shield maiden was when you killed that little child because he wouldn’t let you play, over the years I saw you becoming stronger and stringer against your condition, I could see the smartness in your eyes and I knew that you where my match. You could be the only one to tame my heart but I’ll never stop fighting. You and me, Ivar, will conquer the world and we will kill all our enemies, we will kill everybody whom stays in our way and we will fight with both our minds and our hearts. You and me, Ivar, we are forever.” Ivar looked at you, mesmerized and proud, relieved and happy, loved and at peace when your lips meet his in a wild kiss.

“But don’t you think that I’ll be your little puppet, I’ll get a word in all your plans and I fight alongside you.” Ivar kissed your neck and looked up at you.

“I wouldn’t have you if it would be any different.” then you kissed again, a kiss that was forever, a kiss that meant the beginning of your legend, your and Ivar’s legend.

The criticism that bugs me the most towards Zack Snyder’s Superman is that he doesn’t smile or that he spends too much time being sad. Recently in another post I talked a bit about how I interpreted this version of Superman to be a metaphor for depression so I’ll expand a bit of my thoughts on it here - but not by focusing solely on depression but rather on what it means to be human.

To get to the point, I think it’s disgusting when people make the complaint that Superman shouldn’t be sad and that he spends too much time doubting himself since he’s capable of so much more, because in a way the reactions by these critics mirror the way humanity shuns Superman in the DCEU for not being able to do everything expected of him, the way humanity in the real world disapproves of and/or alienates those struggling with depression or any mental illness in general, and the way the media attacks Zack Snyder as a person for simply making films that are different from their own tastes. It’s natural and justified for Superman to be in emotional distress, and in my opinion it would be insultingly unrealistic for him not to be.

It’s like telling someone struggling with trauma and depression “why can’t you just be happy?” or “just get over it! smile!” despite them going through or having gone through hell, despite them living in a world that prefers ignorance towards issues that need to be addressed, and despite them constantly being attacked by those who make them feel as if they’re a failure or a burden to the people around them.

Humanity in the DCEU views Superman as a devil and a god, as an enemy and a savior, and he knows that every decision he makes, even merely existing, will anger a lot of people. Humanity in real life idealizes Superman as a perfect hero who always finds the optimal solution to every problem, who smiles all the time, who isn’t allowed to show vulnerability or weakness. Zack Snyder utilizes these expectations to reveal that not even Superman is perfect, and in doing so he sheds light on the beauty of vulnerability and why it’s okay to surrender yourself to your emotions when it all becomes too overwhelming. That’s how you humanize a character like Superman.

“You look at Superman, and you wonder, what can he possibly have to worry about? What could possibly ever hurt him? But just because his skin is invulnerable, that doesn’t mean his heart is. And that’s how you hurt Superman. You break his heart.”

DC stories are mainly about finding the humanity within god-like beings. Wonder Woman, for example, beautifully portrays optimism and joy in a superhero film that explores the character’s humanity in its own grounded and special way, and many people are calling the film a breath of fresh air yet many are unable to do so without attacking the “dark and brooding” character of Man of Steel and Dawn of Justice’s Superman, because that character reminds them too much of the issues they’d prefer to stay silent on.

I Can Do It Better- Sidney Crosby

Originally posted by knifeshoeoreofight

Ok guys! Here we go with another smut! I think I’ll be able to crank 4 out for tomorrow as well and we’ll be caught up! Ok so this one’s kind of long sorry. But I think I did the prompt justice and I like how it turned out. For those reading: enjoy! For those skipping: Jakob Chychrun will be out tomorrow morning!

Warning: cussing, sex, smut, smexy time

Anon Request: I LOVED ur recent Sid smut! I feel like there isn’t enough of it in the hockey fanfic world. I have a request, if ur not too swamped, for Sid smut. Could u do one where u guys are best friends and ur hanging out and laughing and having a good time one night and u guys get on the topic of sex? You’d say u haven’t ever really had great sex and say “I can make myself cum better than any boy could” and he challenges you to that and of course it works & then after he asks you to be his gf:) thank u!!

~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/~/

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Lost and Forgotten

Chapter Two

Warnings: sexual tension, angst, fluff, badass fighting

(Prologue)  (Chapter One) (Chapter Three) (Chapter Four) (Chapter Five)


You’d been there for three days and Bucky had come to visit you each one at least once. He’d come in and ask you to fix up the smallest scratches and wounds. He’d pretend to wince whenever you’d touch and clean them, making an exaggerated pained expression. Butterflies swarmed in your stomach every time you laid eyes on him, but you knew better. Odds were he was coming to visit you because of how you had broken character in the bathroom. 

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Beautiful Stranger [Chapter 5]

Originally posted by wanjacks

Chapter 5 of Beautiful Stranger

Ch1  Ch2  Ch3  Ch4

Series Genre: AU/Smut/Fluff/Angst


“No no no, Y/N she—” Jinyoung quickly stood, looming towards you.

“Save it!” you cut him off. You held back the urge to slap the living daylight out of him. “Just stay away from me”.

You instantly turned and charged out of his office, fighting back the angry tears that began to form in your eyes.

Jinyoung slammed his fist against his desk, desperately wishing you hadn’t just heard that. He sighed before returning to his seat and picked up the call.

“Satan’s bride, herself… How did you find me this time?”

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Stirrings (Denial (AKA: this is sooooo not a date prologue)

Bzzt.

Vegeta’s fingers stilled over his laptop keys, eyes sliding to his now illuminated phone screen.

It was her, “Hey hot stuff. What you doin’? ;)”

He grunted, rubbing the tired eyelids under his glasses. Vulgar woman. Had she no shame? He’d only been working at Capsule Corp for less than six months and she was already way to friendly. Didn’t she know he had better things to do? Like, hm, save their asses from a lawsuit recently filed by a rival company? Vegeta knew he should just ignore her, go back to typing and try to not think about aqua-colored eyes and slender legs, but Bulma Briefs was persistent.

The phone buzzed again: “I have sandwiches.”

“Why do I keep doing this to myself?” Vegeta wondered as he hit the elevator button to the lab. He shouldn’t give into her. He had way more productive shit to do than entertain a spoiled heiress. The song playing over the loud speaker was some kind of grating pop music, and it did not help in quelling his agitation. Huffing, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and leaned against the elevator wall. At least the dress code at Capsule Corp was lax. Suits were itchy.

The numbers flashing the descent of the elevator into the lower levels of Capsule Corp mocked him. Bulma’s private lab was in the basement, far away from the prying eyes of the other scientists employed here. While the “regular” people worked on mundane everyday things, Bulma’s work was top secret and hidden behind numerous keypads and doors. Every time he made the trip to the lab under her request he’d feel the increasing amount of nausea and primal surge to run as far away as he possibly could. Feelings were horrible, unnecessary things that only got in the way-

The elevator doors slid open, and there she stood, sub sandwiches in hand and beaming at him.

There was always that cliche moment in films where time stood still, the handsome protagonist locking eyes with a beautiful woman from across the room. The both of them knowing instinctively that this person would change their world forever. For Vegeta, this had happened the first time he’d ever met her.

And it only got worse every time she’d cross his path.

The air around elevator was heavy; Bulma was covered in grease, long blue hair piled on top of her head and held in place with a pen. Her lab coat was stained and open revealing a black tank top and blue denim shorts. She was a vision, the perfect woman…

Which is why Vegeta scowled and snatched the sandwich out of her hand, brushing past her shoulder and not giving her a second glance as he powered towards the lab door.

He heard her huff in agitation, her footsteps echoing in the hall behind him as she struggled to keep up with his longer strides, “UM, you’re welcome!”

“I didn’t ask you to buy me lunch.” He grumbled, still walking forward and already ripping into the wax paper keeping him from the sandwich.

A low whistle came from her direction. Vegeta paused, turning around with an annoyed stare.

Bulma was surprisingly close to him, within arms reach and she waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “I hate it when you go, but I love watching you leave. You should wear jeans more often.”

“Wha-damnit woman I’m going to sue you for sexual harassment!” Vegeta felt his cheeks flame red, “why do you insist on being so pervy? Have you no shame?”

Bulma laughed, “Not when it comes to you!” She reached up and gently pulled the glasses from his face, putting them on instead, “I didn’t know you wore glasses!”

Left eye twitching, he took back the eyewear and tucked them into his breast pocket, “Not that it’s any of your business, but my eyes get tired cleaning up all the messes around here.”

“Pffft,” Bulma rolled her eyes, walking past Vegeta and tapping her code into the keypad, “What I was going to say is that they make you look smart.”

“Well, of course they-Hey!”

Bulma giggled, waving him inside the lab, “Hurry up grumpy. I’m starving.”

-

He devoured the first sandwich within moments of settling himself on the swivel chair near Bulma’s desk, she already handing him a second one. She knew well enough by now that despite Vegeta’s shorter stature that he could eat anyone under the table. He’d had Ju Jitsu practice the night before and his hunger was especially fierce today.

Bulma’s own sandwich lay unattended beside her, still primly wrapped as she pulled a pencil out of her coat pocket and carefully followed the lines of the ruler she had placed against a large blueprint nearly engulfing her whole workspace. Vegeta chewed thoughtfully, eyes narrowed as he watched her work, “What’s that?” He asked around the mouthful.

“Hm? Oh, I made the modulator in the space pod too small. It wont accept the amount of wires needed to actually propel the dumb thing. I’m just adjusting the pod accordingly.” She continued to measure, her firm bare calves teasing him as she shifted footing.

“Hmpf, some genius.” He teased.

“Hey bucko,” Bulma wagged the pencil at him, still not looking in his direction, “it’s beautiful, stunning, amazing genius to you. And don’t you forget it.” she went back to the blueprint, getting absorbed into her work.

Vegeta was only slightly irritated. If she wasn’t going to engage with him, then why was he even here? She could have easily dropped the sandwiches off at his office, but no. Instead he was sitting in near silence watching the prodigy of Capsule Corp doodle. He had at least three pending lawsuits against this crazy company he had to deal with, and being treated like a personal assistant was definitely not in his job description. The anger within him was building, threatening to end his patience then and there until…

…She smiled at him.

He hadn’t caught her staring, didn’t even realize that she had stopped working to watch him.

Bulma tilted her head, a free tendril of aqua hair escaping her messy bun and brushing down her slender neck, “What?” She asked. Heart thundering, and before he could stop himself, Vegeta reached out and tucked that wayward lock of hair behind her ear. Bulma blinked, cheeks flushing an obscenely pretty shade of pink.

Clearing his throat, Vegeta crossed his arms across his broad expanse of chest and glared at the floor, “It was pissing me off,” he grumbled, “the hair, I mean. I’m going to buy you some proper hair clips so that way you don’t look like a damn mess. It’s a health hazard around here anyways.”

“O-oh,” Bulma smiled, “don’t worry about it. I’ve uh, got plenty of them at home. Thanks though. Nice to know you care.”

“I don’t!” Vegeta barked, surprising himself with his own level of volume, “It just, its-”

The damn woman snickered, shaking her head. That same tendril of hair came loose, almost taunting him to touch it again, “Whatever you say hot stuff.” She smiled at him again, and she went back to her blueprint, once again getting lost in her own mind.

How did he not piss her off? How did she even stand to be in his presence? There was a reason Vegeta was alone; and he’d be lying if he said it wasn’t his fault most of the time. Now there was this beautiful woman (incredibly out of his league) who not only put up with his permanently aloof attitude, but had gotten him this job. He’d owned his own law firm, but it was really just a small studio in a shitty area of town. Business usually consisted of petty crimes and at least attempting to get reduced sentences for the scum of society. It really didn’t matter to Vegeta who he was representing as long as it paid the bills. He’d been called in for a gang deposition for the Icejin gang and somehow Bulma had heard about him from there. He was called into her fancy office wearing a second hand suit and had wanted to melt into the floor. From the way her father and other members had looked at him he was sure he’d be kicked out. Vegeta didn’t mince words, and had told the fifteen people sitting at that long interview table exactly how he felt about their methods of defending themselves.

Shitty. It was all shitty. How could they look themselves in the mirror when all they did was pay people out for lawsuits that were unjustified? How had they not gone bankrupt? Why was a company so willing to fail wanting to hire him? What was the point? A mouse fart could have been heard after his rant, the faces of all the old men at the table sallow and horrified.

He knew he’d done it then; had ruined his chances of ever having a good client.

Fuck.

Vegeta had turned to leave when he saw the blue haired woman standing in the doorway looking amused, “And where do you think you’re going tiger? You’re starting right now.”

“B-Bulma!” Dr. Briefs had stammered, “This young man had made it quite clear that he doesn’t wish to associate with us-”

Bulma’s blue eyes narrowed, and she peered around Vegeta’s shoulder to grin at her father, “Daddy, he is JUST who we need.”

“B-but princess-”

“Nice to meet you,” the woman had held her hand out to Vegeta, “I’m Bulma Briefs, co founder of Capsule Corp and head scientist. It’s a pleasure to have you as the newest employee. You’re office is down the hall, it’s the door right next to mine. You start immediately.”

Stunned, Vegeta shook her hand and she winked coyly, “Nice to have someone who will get things done. And you’re cute to boot.”

And that was how this whole crazy thing started. Because this certifiably insane, stunningly beautiful genius and business mogul had had given him a chance when all his life he’d been told no. They’re upbringings couldn’t have been more different, and yet here he was. Watching her work was like watching a painter, completely in their element. He had a thought that disturbed him and caused him pause, but was still not enough to stop him.

Vegeta pulled out his smart phone, pretending to check emails when in reality he was opening his camera app.

This was wrong. He could get in so much trouble. But if one day she got sick of him and kicked him out on the street and he never saw her again, he wanted to always remember her like this: Leaned over her desk, blue eyes fixated on her own genius taking shape and stunningly gorgeous despite not even trying. Vegeta hit the button and captured a single silenced photo before quickly tucking his phone back into his pocket.

Bulma kept working, blissfully unaware of what had just transpired. Vegeta pretended to glance around the room, then noticed the still unopened sandwich beside her. He knew she wouldn’t eat unless forced to at this point. Sighing, he stood and went to her side. Bulma glanced at him questioningly as he plucked the pencil from her hand, instead thrusting the sandwich into it, “Eat.” He said firmly. Blue eyes blinked, but Bulma obliged, finally sitting and unwrapping her lunch. Vegeta nodded, before turning and walking out of the lab doors.

He’d stare at that photo for minutes at a time in his office behind closed doors for the rest of the work day and even months after. It reminded him of her kindness, and it caused stirrings in his belly he didn’t know possible. There was no chance with her, Vegeta knew. So, this picture and dreams were all he had. He was okay with that. This single snapshot of a moment in time was his little secret. She’d never even know.

Besides, what harm could one little photograph do?

Here is is my friends; the prologue to Denial! Thank you all for the encouragement and kindness you have shown my stories. This is for all of you ❤️

✶ ———— BOYS DON’T CRY SENTENCE STARTERS.

’ ________, you are one cranky girl/boy. ’
’ God, I hate my life. ’
’ I hate your life, too. ’
’ I mean, you don’t have to be sober to weigh spinach. ’
’ I borrowed one of Candace’s checks, then I got that speeding ticket, and this fake I.D. ’
’ I guess, I just need to learn to stay home, huh? ’
’ I’ll be waiting for ya. Love always and forever. ’
’ I’m scared of what’s ahead, but when I think of you I know I’ll be able to go on. ’
’ I invite you into my home and you expose my daughter to your sickness. ’
’ Boy, I… I really fucked up. ’
’ That’s all I been thinking about. ’
’ Shut up. That’s your business. ’
’ Look, I don’t care if you’re half monkey or half ape, I’m gettin’ you out of here. ’
’ Why not? You’re beautiful. ’
’ Come over here. ’
’ Who are you? ’
’ Someplace… beautiful. ’
’ Where… where do I seem like I’m from? ’
’ You don’t seem like you’re from around here. ’
’ I’m the only one who can control that fucker. ’
’ Doctors say he / she got no impulse control. ’
’ I hate it though. I’m thinking of changing it. ’
’ So what’s your name? ’
’ I’m an asshole. ’
’ What were you like… before all this?  ’
’ Were you like me, like a girl, girl? ’
’ Yeah… like a long time ago…  ’
’ I guess I was just like a boy girl, then I was just a jerk. ’
’ Think they’d recognize her if we chopped off her head and her hands? ’
’ Why do you go hanging out with guys, you being a girl yourself? ’
’ Why do you go around kissing every girl? ’
’ I… don’t see what this has to do with what had happened. ’
’ Now, are you going to answer my question or not? ’
’ I… have a sexual identity crisis. ’
’ I’m going to ask her to marry me. ’
’ Before or after your sex-change operation? ’
’ Before or after you tell her you’re a girl? ’
’ Shut up, you fucking pervert. ’
’ Are you a girl or are you not? ’
’ Fuck you! You stay the fuck away from me! ’
’ Oh, you wanna fight? ’
’ There’s an easy way to fix this problem. ’
’ By the time you read this, I’ll be back home in Lincoln. ’
’ Sometimes that helps. ’
’ You were right. ’
’ You have a what? ’
’ Wow… This _______ chick’s pretty messed up. ’
’ I’m asking you all these so that when I speak to the jury, they’re going to want some answers. ’
’ People like you don’t need to do drugs, hallucinate twenty four seven. ’
’ Well, I’m just telling you its been reported. ’
’ I don’t want it in my house. ’
’ Man, it’s nothing. ’
’ I’m going to be an old man/woman by the time I get that kind of money. ’
’ God, you have got the tiniest hands. ’
’ I guess I am a pussy compared to you. ’
’ I could always go deeper than him/her. ’
’ You ever done this before? ’
’ He’s/she’s hurt! Call an ambulance! Right now! ’
’ You can’t keep running, you’re gonna end up in jail. ’
’ You think they’re going to lock me up tomorrow? ’
’ How am I supposed to know what they’re going to do. ’
’ Come straight to my house, no stopping at bars, no stealing and no more girls. ’
’ I’ve known her/him since she/him was this high. ’
’ I could tell you stories about her/him. ’
’ Give me a break, I was thirteen years old. ’
’ Who told you that? My mom? ’
’ No one can protect me like you can. ’
’ You know I just want to protect you, right? ’
’ It’s a real… real long story. ’
’ Wow, you’re really good with kids. ’
’ Looks like you’re riding home with Ted Bundy. ’
’ You got some time to stick around, right? ’
’ These girls/boys get their shit together, they’re going to sing some karaoke. ’
’ The bluest eyes in Texas, are haunting me tonight. ’
’ Don’t look at my stupid house. ’
’ I’m not looking at your stupid house, I’m looking at you. ’
’ Wait a minute, what’s your name again? ’
’ I had a dream about you last night. ’
’ I think you were there, I think you walked me home. ’
’ Got an extra cigarette, man? ’
’ This here’s my real family. ’
’ You would of thought he could care of him/herself, let alone that kid. ’
’ This one, this one kept that boy’s/girl’s spirit alive. ’
’ Can we just forget about that. ’
’ It’s okay sweetie, it’s not your fault. ’
’ Having fun? ’
’ I don’t feel like picture taking right now. ’
’ Come on, tell me the dream. ’
’ If tell anybody what happened, we’ll have to silence you permanently. ’
’ You okay in there little buddy? ’
’ Okay, so now you’re a boy/girl, now what? ’
’ Someone’s inside, I got a date. ’
’ Everybody get out of my car! Get out of my fucking car! ’
’ We went by the factory last night and you weren’t there. ’
’ I have to go, my break is almost over. ’
’ Look, isn’t she beautiful? I’m going to ask her to marry me. ’

⎿ GILMORE GIRLS STARTERS ⏋

  • ❛  Stop talking to the dogs!  ❜
  • ❛  Get a clue, Columbo. I don’t wanna talk to _____.  ❜
  • ❛  Ugly American, party of one.  ❜
  • ❛  I didn’t know that my every conversation needed to be reported to you. I stand corrected.  ❜
  • ❛  Pure sex walking. Flying, actually. That man could fly. Have you ever thought of taking dance?  ❜
  • ❛  I hugged it, I hugged it really tight.  ❜
  • ❛  You travel with a spatula?  ❜
  • ❛  I bow to the foot of the master.  ❜
  • ❛  What are you thinking, buying an airplane?!  ❜
  • ❛  Everybody in the world’s life flashed before my eyes. That’s how much time I had. I thought we were gonna die on that van.  ❜
  • ❛  He’s not a 100-year-old eunuch or anything.  ❜
  • ❛  Hard work is good for a woman, makes her stronger.  ❜
  • ❛  I’m downloading wedding stuff from Prague.  ❜
  • ❛  Let me bottom-line it for you. Snakes are gross. Snakes are scary and slithery, and do you know where snakes do not belong?  ❜
  • ❛  The whole trip was a total fiasco. It was the Stones at Altamont times a billion.   ❜
  • ❛  You’ve got one minute to order, then six minutes to eat.  ❜
  • ❛  A couple’s massage is for a couple – not a couple of people.  ❜
  • ❛  Ow! Rat bastard!  ❜
  • ❛  You can borrow my water bra.  ❜
  • ❛  _____ lied to us. To you. To me.  ❜
  • ❛  Ok, that’s it. You’re nuts and I’m going - in that order.  ❜
  • ❛  Details please. Don’t leave out anything. We want every comma, apostrophe and ampersand.  ❜
  • ❛  Do you know that butt models make $10,000 a day?  ❜
  • ❛  Something romantic, but not mushy, something that will make us remember this.  ❜
  • ❛  _____ would never hike up her skirt in public.  ❜
  • ❛  Don’t look around, stare straight ahead, no more talking to people ever!  ❜
What Matters Most

Characters: reader, Dean, Sam(briefly)

Pairing: Dean x reader

Warnings: lots of angst, arguing

Word count: 3303

Summary: you’re tired of your boyfriend, Dean, leaving you without an explanation all the time. You decide to ask him why he really has to leave for weeks at a time and come to your own conclusion about his life.

A/N: prompts 30 and 36 were chosen for this fic by @drbagels123 from my prompt list

Here you were again.

He left you again just like he always did with no explanation, no message to let you know where he was going. Dean would just take off for weeks at a time with his brother and then show up again at your apartment. You always confronted him and told him you were done and you hated him; it always ended in make up sex, huge apologies and gifts. As much as you wanted to end whatever you and Dean had, whatever you were, you always ended up falling for him all over again when he showed you affection and you saw how sad he was about leaving you and hurting you.

This time had to be different. You couldn’t let him do this to you anymore, you didn’t want anymore surprises or random visits, he either stayed and explained or you were done. End of discussion.

He came back a little earlier than usual this time. He was usually gone for at least two weeks, but this time he was only gone for three days. Every time he left it hurt you even more than the last and you couldn’t understand why.

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Exactly and while men may also be discriminated against or have issues solely due to their gender, these issues are directly caused by sexism against women. Male domestic abuse survivors are ignored because “how could a woman ever hurt a man? pathetic”. The rates of suicide amongst males being higher are probably because men can’t be open about their emotions without people calling them pussys because sharing emotions is “weak” and “for girls”. Custody issues? Women are seen as only good for the kitchen and for nurturing kids and men are for working and doing manly shit. All of your problems are direct results of sexism. Let’s all work together and end this for all of our sake.

hiitsmecharlie-deactivated20170  asked:

Marty Scurll! He's been best friends with (y/n) for a long time, in which he falls for her. She's a shy girl and doesn’t open up easily, so she's pretty much clueless to his advances and his flirting. Stupidly, he settled for only one night stands, pushing her even farther away. Until a new guy comes along, having the balls he didn't, and asking her out on a date! Angsty, fluff? 😘 Hope this is okay, Sam.

- Marty knew it was stupid, the fact that he couldn’t work up the nerve to tell you he loves you
- the Bucks and Zack only reminded him of it daily. Hell, even Ospreay got in on the Villain roasting
- It was stupid because he was able to take nameless and faceless ring rats back to his hotel room every night, but telling you he had feelings for you was the hardest thing he could imagine
- He tried to insinuate for months that he was interested, until he realized he was being entirely too subtle and you weren’t picking up on the cues
- You weren’t much better
- the Bucks, being the shitstirrers they are, were at their wits’ end trying to get the two of you to realize that this was meant to be
- But you were insistent that Marty only saw you as a friend
- You’d blast the music in your headphones at maximum volume whenever you had to walk past Marty’s room at night after the first couple times of hearing them and choking down every feeling of jealousy and envy you had
- Adam Cole was a dick dressed up like Prince Charming
- Cole wasn’t stupid, he knew what was going on. What better way to crawl underneath the Villain’s skin than to take his woman out from underneath his nose?
- You couldn’t see Cole’s true intentions, but man oh man, Marty was furious
- Marty quietly stewed for weeks. Weeks! Trying to work out why Cole?
- it all came to a head on the drive to the airport for some U.K. Shows
- You never saw it coming
- “He doesn’t deserve a woman like you… He’s blind and you deserve better. How could he ever think that he was worthy of your kindness?”
- You turned and just blinked at Marty’s outburst, too stunned to do much else
- “Fuck what’s he got that I don’t?!”
- you turned your eyes back to the road, your grip white knuckled on the steering wheel and tears burning at the back of your eyes
-“Dammit I fell for you years ago and I have been trying- busting my balls- to just get you to see me as a man who loves you as more than just your friend…”
- then his voice cracked and you almost started sobbing
- “What’s so awful about me? What did I do wrong?”
- the sudden confession from Marty still had you stunned and it took everything in you to continue driving and not to faint
- “I’d do anything to see you look at me the way you look at him. Give anything to take you out on a date- I want to take you out to dinner. I want to be the man who kisses you goodnight and soothes your soul…”
- You jerked the wheel to pull over rather suddenly to the side of the road
- the motion of the vehicle and the sudden proclamation of his name stopped Marty mid-ramble
- Moment of truth. Time to put up or shut up.

acatwithoutagrin  asked:

So Ian miles cheong recently trotted out the old 'gallbrush' argument regarding men and women in gaming. Is there a good rebuttal to that?

The first thing you should know about Ian Miles Cheong is that there’s a good chance doesn’t actually believe any of the things he says. If you look back at his past statements, even when he was supposedly supported social justice, you’ll find he’s almost never made anything resembling an original argument. He simply repeats the most common talking points of whatever group he’s affiliated most with.

If I had to take a guess, I’d say his stance on any given issue at any point in time is entirely performative, he truly doesn’t give a shit apart from getting street cred with whoever he’s decided to hang around. In hindsight, I should have probably realized that before he went full internet libertarian because he didn’t really act that different when he was an “SJW.”

Now, I could be wrong to assume this, certainly. But given that he’s been so thoroughly lazy in all of his attempts to make any kind of argument, I have trouble believing that he truly gives a shit at all.

Because of this, I generally don’t consider him to be worth taking seriously at all.

That said, if you want a rebuttal to his point, it’s really really easy to make one. Let’s take a look at IMC’s lazy attempt at an argument.

So, the first thing that I want to talk about is that this is actually an uncharitable reading of Guybrush Threepwood’s character traits.

Yes, he’s clumsy. Yes, he’s awkward. Yes, he doesn’t have much in the way of common sense. Yes, he’s a little bit self-absorbed. Yes, he often screws things up and makes things worse. But at the same time, he’s also witty enough to provide most of the Monkey Island series’ legendary humor just through his narration, clever enough to outsmart his way through nearly every obstacle he encounters (even the ones he accidentally created for himself), determined enough to weather a ridiculous amount of punishment, and manages to rack up a truly impressive list of accomplishments over the course of the series. The only time he ever really comes off as a legitimate jerk is in LeChuck’s Revenge, which is mostly just him letting his previous defeat of LeChuck go to his head.

Guybrush Threepwood is very much a flawed character, intentionally so. And yet at no point does he ever come off as being a shallow character. This leads directly into the second point that I want to talk about.

When people criticize female characters, it’s generally done so in a way that’s directly related to their lack of depth, whether in the character or in their role in the story itself. This is because stereotypes are defined by a lack of depth. A stereotype relies on generalizations about how we perceive groups of people, they undermine the ability to perceive groups with nuance.

For example, say a female character in a story gets kidnapped for no reason other than to motivate a male hero to rescue her. Regardless of how capable she might otherwise be, the story shows the male character to be the only one who can help her. Now, in a vacuum, this alone wouldn’t be bad. But taken into the context of most cultures, it feeds into several stereotypes: that women need men to protect them, that women play a more passive existence, and that men are the ones who actually go out and do things.

The way to avoid this isn’t to say that no woman can be rescued by a man in a story, ever. The way to do this is to advocate for more depth to the way these kinds of conflicts are portrayed. The key phrase above is female character getting kidnapped for no reason other than to motivate a male hero to rescue her. In many cases the female character getting kidnapped can be replaced with a pet or inanimate object the male hero feels particularly attached to being stolen, with little appreciable difference in how it affects the plot.

Everything in a story serves a purpose, and if a kidnapping of a female character doesn’t actually do anything in the story beyond “get the male lead to do something,” then that’s not a plot element that has any depth to it at all. It’s not only shallow, it parallels a shallow way of viewing women.

So is it possible to write a female character that’s inept, clumsy, socially awkward, etc. deeply without it being called sexist? Yes, absolutely. In fact, not only is it possible, but to imply that it isn’t is actually deeply insulting to game creators, because it implies that they simply do not have enough creativity to write female characters with any depth.

teaching him

so this is a really shitty imagine for my best friend!! ever!!! happy belated birthday girl!! you are the coolest cat out there!!! sorry for this really horrible birthday present, happy late ass birthday

Originally posted by cindecasso


    the gods only knew how badly you wanted to drown yourself in the         creek infront of you, these girls would not shut up, their loud
  loud laughing only made your skin crawl worse. you didn’t mind having to work, hell, you could work for hours on end, the only thing
     that erked you was the women you had to work with. they wouldn’t   stop talking when you worked, currently they were talking about the men

              they’d all had in bed, and how big they were.

              “he was so big!, i didn’t think he’d fit!” svenia exclaimed making the other two giggle shyly at her dirty talk, you rolled your eyes
              biting back the scoff that was so desperate to escape. you scrubbed your fingers agaisnt the fabric of the shirt you were washing,
              but froze when your best friends name left martias lips

              “did you hear about ivar?, what happened with him and margarethe?” she asked quietly making the other two lean in, you sat still
               hands still drenched with water

                “no, what happened?”

                “well, i think everyone knows that all of the sons of ragnar favor her, ivar heard wind of this and wanted her in his bed as well”

                 you stared over at them, feeling hurt enter your heart. out of all the slaves you were closest to ivar, you understood him and comforted
                 him in his darkest times, and over time you two had grown closer then anyone in kattegat and it hurt you that he wouldn’t have told you
                 this.

                 "so, she had sex with him?“

                 "yes, but he couldn’t even feel her, and he wasn’t even hard!, he knew nothing about how to touch her or have sex, she basically had to
                 teach him everything-”

                 "who told you of this?“ you asked suddenly cutting in making them look at you shocked, usually you were quiet as they talked, this was the first
                 time you had spoken all day. martia cleared her throat and spoke in a shaky low voice

                 "earlier at breakfast margarethe told a few of us girls……and sigurd” she knew how close you and ivar were, and she knew how easy it was
                 to tick you off. especially when it came to ivar. you couldn’t believe that she told anyone about this, and sigurd!?, why sigurd!?.

                 you hummed with a small nod, immeadiately going back to work, surprising the girls. on the outside you were composed and fine, on the inside you
                 were fuming, ready to rip margarethes head from her shoulders, how dare she?, didn’t she know the consiquences?, you knew ivar would be pissed
                 and humiliated, which made you want to throw your work away and go comfort him tightly in your arms.

                 "chelle are you-“

                 "fine, i’m fine” you said vice tight and deep with anger, that shut the girls up finally allowing you to work in silent anger.

                  later on that day you ignored lunch and dinner, not ready to talk to anyone or run into margarethe, you wanted so badly to
                  beat her, hang her by her toes letting the crows pick at her eyes and skin, watching as she died slowly, but for the sake
                  of your queen and ivar, you wouldn’t…….yet anyway.

                  as you looked to the fading sun you realized something, today was the usual day you’d clean ivars chambers. would he be there?
                  you hoped not, it’s not that you didn’t want to see him, you didn’t want him to see you. you were a horrible liar, he always knew
                  when you were hiding something, and if he found out she told the other slaves…his BROTHER, he’d be furious.

                   you didn’t want him to hurt anymore then he already was. you’d do anything to make it go away. as you were walking along the sandy
                   shore of kattegat you spotted a bright headed blonde rubbing dirt from her leg with the water beside her.

                   margarethe.

                  you could feel red enter your eyes the longer you stared at her, anger seeping back into your veins,
                  you went to walk away but her soft voice rang out through the quiet air

                  “chelle?”.  you cursed under your breath and turned slowly facing her with crossed arms “margarethe” you acknowledged with a curt nod.
                   she stood up drying her hands on her dress and brushed the hair from her face. then it was silent, the both of you looking at each other
                   hers in awkwardness, your in anger and sadness.

                   "what are you doing out here?“ she asked shifting where she stood, but you just stood still glaring at her with all the hatred in the world
                   not saying a thing. she nodded again not knowing what to say. the words in that back of your throat were getting bigger, the urge to
                   yell at her becoming larger, finally, you let loose

                   "why in the gods name would you tell anyone about what happened between you and ivar?. especially sigurd?, of all people!” you
                   exclaimed with a dry humorless laugh. she went to speak but quickly slammed her mouth shut, not actually knowing what to say.
                   but you had plenty to say to her.

                   "he already has enough pain in his life, magarethe. how could you do something so stupid?. do you not know how angry ivar can get?-“

                    "yes!, but-”

                    “but nothing!, hell margarethe you think telling sigurd will help you?, it won’t. as much as i care for ivar his anger is unpredictable”
                     you said feeling bad about saying it aloud but you knew it was the truth. she sighed loudly and spoke, her voice shaky as if she were
                     on the verge of tears

                     "chelle, i didn’t know what to do, i didn’t know who to go to. he hurt me". you scoffed, ivar you knew didn’t have a filter at all,
                     but you knew he’d never hurt a women, and if he did hurt margarethe, you didn’t blame him.

                     "tell me what all happend, margarethe. quickly, i have places to be" you sighed out crossing your arms tighter over your chest,
                     feeling the cold air fly through your body.

                     "he strangled me!, he-“

                     "not what he did to you. i wanna know how you had sex with him” you said cutting her off swiftly, your face emotionless, heart
                     thuming wildly in your chest. some part of you didn’t want to hear about her and ivars sexual encounter, but you knew you had
                     to know.

                     "i-i-i don’t know what you-“

                     "were you on top?” you asked bluntly becoming more and more irritated with her. you honestly were a bit jealous that she was his
                     first. she was silent for a few mintues and turned away from you.

                     "no, i didn’t want to be. i wanted him to be on top, take charge". you stared at her, mouth open in shock, anger, and sadness.

                      “for his first time……you made him top?, you threw him into it without teaching him anything?” with every word that left
                      your mouth you walked over ot her slowly, hands shaking by your sides. she honestly didn’t know what to do, she couldn’t
                      look you in the eye knowing how badly she messed up.

                       when you finally made it to her, inches apart, you spoke in a low growl. voice raw and deep.

                       "never, ever come near me or ivar again. if you so much as try to talk to him, i will kill you. do you understand?“
                       she stuttered for a moment and when she didn’t answer, you harshly gripped her fore-arm digging your nails into her
                       bare flesh making her whimper and cry out softly

                      "do. you. understand?” your voice could make any man and woman fall to their knees in that moment, you were speaking like a
                      true viking. margarethe nodded hastily, trying to jerk her arm out of your grasp but you wouldn’t let up. you could
                      feel her skin breaking under your sharp nails making you feel superior over her.

                      “use your words!”

                      “yes!, i understand!” she cried and you finally let go, pushing her to the ground roughly, ignoring her sharp intakes of breath,
                      you glared down at her shaking form feeling no pity for her, she hurt ivar. your ivar. you turned around and walked away, your
                      feet sinking softly into the sand, you had work to do, you had to see ivar.

                      you barged loudly into the hall glancing all around for ivar, sadly, he wasn’t there. which meant he was in his room…..
                      lovely. you made your way past the thrones and to the back, to the room you had been in at least a hundred times.
                      when you made it to his door hesitating to knock holding your knuckles a few inches away from the wood. you wondered

                      if he’d ask you if you knew, or if he’d tell you, all in all you had to mentally prepare yourself for whatever was to come.

                      you knocked.

                      “come in”. you smiled softly at the sound of his voice, but by the tone he was using you knew something was wrong.
                      you opened the door slowly, and when your eyes caught sight of ivar, your breath caught in your throat.
                      he was laying on his bed, furs pulled up barely to his waist, his broad and naked chest glowing in the soft

                      candle light. when he saw it was you he smiled gently not moving from his position.

                       "hello, chelle" he greeted, voice as soft as his chest looked. oh how you wanted to touch him, kiss him, but you had to refrain.
                        you were just a slave of course. you smiled at him brightly nodding to him curtly “hello, ivar. are you well?”

                        you asked walking over to the only window that resided in his room and grabbed a rag, wiping at the dust on the window sill.
                        he sighed and you seen him shrug in the corner of your eye “fine” he simply said placing his arms under his head staring
                        at the ceiling, confirming your thoughts that something was indeed wrong. and you already knew.\

                        you decided not to push him, you continued to do your work around his small room.

                        you wiped the small bead of sweat that was making its way down your neck, and leaned the small broom against his wall
                        next was shaking out his fur carpet, as you bent down to grab the fur, ivars voice rang out stopping you in your tracks

                        “chelle?, have you ever had sex?”. you closed your eyes for a few minutes then swallowed the large rock that had formed in
                        your throat. you looked up at him nodding, a tight lipped smile gracing your features.

                        “yes, i have” you said barely above a whisper, he nodded slowly drinking in your words, a small flicker of sadness in his eyes.

                         "and did you…..love him?“ he asked, voice thick with what you thought was nervousness. you dropped the fur from your hands
                         and moved up sitting on his bed beside him.

                       "no, i did not love him” you said running your hands over the soft fur, ivar raised
                       a brow at you, shifting where he lay. “then, why did you have sex with him?” he asked sounding like a small child, which made you
                       smile and raise a hand to brush hair away from your face, a nervous condition you had picked up after years of being a slave.

                       "i guess i just wanted to experience it, all of the other slaves were talking about how good it felt. i wanted to know"
                       you explained wondering what was actually going on in his head at this moment. ivar leaned back mulling over your words,
                       you didn’t want him to think of you differently.

                       "is it……does it…..feel good?“ he whispered still not meeting your eyes. you swiped your tongue out wetting your lips
                       a deep sadness overcoming your heart, you were going to kill magarethe.

                       "i-yes. yes it does. but i know it feels better when it’s with someone you love” you said making ivar look at you, pain etched into
                       his face, you didn’t know if that was the right thing to say or not, too late to take it back now.

                        “i know you know, chelle” he said making your heart stop for a millisecond, how did he know?.
                         you stared at him, knowing you couldn’t lie to him.

                        “ivar, i’m so sorry” you whispered making ivar turn away from you, his toned back facing you. he hummed lowly

                        “there is nothing to be sorry about” he said, anger and embarrassment clear in his voice. making you feel even worse about the
                        situation. you crawled up to him setting your bum beside his back and gently laid a hand on his shoulder, frowning deeply
                        when he flinched, but you didn’t move. you just started rubbing your palm against his heated flesh.

                        “it is not your fault with what happened, ivar. it was hers” you said jerking your hand away when he whipped around facing
                        you, eyes glistning with unshed tears, it pained you to see him this way.

                        “it is my fault. i could not pleasure her, chelle. she wasn’t………she wasn’t even wet”

                        “and that was not your fault. she couldn’t pleasure a man if she were blessed by freyja” you said
                         making ivar chuckle through his red teary eyes “how did it start?” you asked moving closer to him, biting back your smile when
                         he pressed his nose to your hip wrapping an arm over your stomach.

                         "i didn’t know what to do actually, she just started to kiss me, and….it picked up from there" he explained his voice muffled
                         by the soft fabric of your dress. you listened carefully, stroaking your hand through his soft black hair soothingly, making ivar
                         feel more calm and relaxed by your touch.

                         "i couldn’t…..feel. nothing. all because i am a stupid cripple" he muttered pressing his face deeper into your hip

                         "ivar" you scolded truly hating the way he talked about himself “i think it was nerves” you said making him look
                         up at you with a dark glint in his eyes “i was not nervous” he protested, but that just made you chuckle and
                         pat his head lovingly.

                         "everyone is nervous for their first time ivar. half her half nerves were at fault" you whispered, feeling
                         so horrible for your best friend. he sighed looking down at your hip, letting his finger trace the bone.

                         you wondered- no, no that was wrong to think of. he wouldn’t agree……..or would he?, maybe if-if you
                         showed him how to make love, how good it feels?, but what if he said no?. would he reject you?.

                         only one way to find out.

                         you lowerd your hand and placed it under his chin forcing him to look at you, you leaned your face down
                         close to his, eye to eye and whispered slowly, your voice sending a chill down his spine

                         "would you………..like me to teach you?, ivar?“ your soft breath hitting his. he stared at you, eyes
                         wide in shock, oh no, here it comes. rejection. you shouldn’t have said anything.

                         "yes”. you swear you could feel your body grow hot from that simple little word, it made you smile.

                         you placed your hand on the back of his neck and drew him closer to you “are you sure?” you whispered
                         hoping he’d say yes. and he did. you brought him even closer and sighed when you felt his chest on yours
                         rising and falling harshly. you ran your fingers through the soft little hairs on the nape of his neck

                         and leaned in letting your noses brush against each other lovingly, you wanted to take your time and allow
                         him to be comfortable. you glanced into his dark blue eyes asking silently one more time if this was okay,
                         when he nodded is when you finally let your lips touch.

                         of course he was a little hesitant, but that just made it all the more sweeter, you pulled back for a moment
                         then moved on to his bottom lip. gently just barely sucking on it, his hand gripped your hip softly pullling
                         your lower half to him. it felt so good to have his lips on yours, you peeked your eyes open for a second

                        glancing at his beautiful face, which was scrunched together in concentraition, you blindly reached a hand
                        up and tangled it in his hair, making him relax just a tad more. you both then parted, lips sticking together
                        making a small pop as you let go. you both were breathing so heavily, that being the only sound in the room

                        he leaned in more, his nose pressing into the corner of your lips, you could feel his heartbeat beating rapidly
                        in his chest, you tugged on his hair lightly making him moan quietly. the sound alone sending a hot jolt to
                        your core.

                        “do you want me to touch you-”

                       "tonight is all about you, ivar" you said lips brushing against his as you talked, he was about ot protest but you
                        cut him off by kissing him again. even though he was innexepreienced he was an amazing kisser, how was magarethe not
                        wet while being with him?.

                       you then dared to slip your leg over his waist, pausing slightly when you heard him suck in a heavy breath as you kissed.
                       "are you alright?“ you whispered against his lips, kissing them again. he nodded reaching his hands up cupping your waist
                       rubbing the skin through your dress. you sighed into the kiss making ivars eyes roll back into his head.

                       just by kissing you were slowly driving him insane. he’d never felt like this before, his hands and stomach were quivering
                       as if her were cold, but he was anything but. he was hot and sweaty, just by your sweet honey like kisses.
                       he froze when you moaned as he squeezed your waist a little tighter.

                       he didn’t know what to say, it was the sexiest thing he’d ever heard in all his years of life. you pulled back from him
                       and smiled, hair dishevilled, looking like a fallen goddess in ivars eyes. "may i undress you?” you asked making ivars
                       eyes close tightly, your voice sounding like the smoothest of instruments.

                       "yes" he answerd gruffly, hissing when your cold hands reached lower brushing past his toned, tight stomach, hitting his
                       trousers. he was worried, worried that he wouldn’t be able to make you feel good like margarethe, that you’d laugh and
                       leave him there alone, naked and humiliated.

                       you pressed a small kiss to the corner of his mouth and moved lower, flashing him a seductive look, ivar swore he felt his
                       prick jump at the sight of you, maybe he was wrong. you made it lower and finally was eye level at his prick, you leaned forewards
                       and pressed a kiss to his clothed prick, smiling when he jumped softly, maybe he could feel after-all. you then kissed it again

                       a little longer and deeper this time, ivar was feeling his heart beat out of control, he had to calm himself. he focused on how
                       beautiful you looked in this lighting, your gorgeous hair glowing on your head, forming an anglic glow around you. your bright
                       beautiful eyes flashing up to his every now and again, making his heart stop and stutter, he never realized how goddess-like you

                       looked until now. you then slowly undid the string that was keeping his pants together and slid them out of the holes, letting the
                       fabric fall loose against his hips. ivar clenched his eyes closed not wanting to see your reaction to his ugly, kinny legs.
                       when you seen his legs for the first time, your heart fluttered and eyes widened in awe, even though they were never used

                       you could see the muscle and strength they held. you pulled the rest of his pants off and chucked them behind you, kissing the soft
                       skin of his legs. ivar shivered feeling your hot wet mouth on his legs, it felt to surreal, having you loving his body up, but it
                       felt so damn good. you made it to his inner thigh and sofly gasped at his prick. he was bigger then any man you’d been with.

                       damn, how was he going to fit?. how did margarethe not enjoy herself?. you leaned forewards to his softly erect prick and licked the
                       head. ivar gasped and gripped the sheets between his fingers. how did he?…..he feel that?. he could feel the hot breath leaving your
                       mouth hit his girth, he felt the small drops of saliva drip down his length. he felt it.

                       you smirked and licked it again, this time a bigger stripe, tongue flat against him. everything felt so euphoric to him, he’d never
                       felt this good in his life. “ch-chelle!” he exclaimed when you softly took him in your mouth. you could feel him growing in your mouth.
                       you lived for the noises leaving his mouth, your name sounding heavenly upon his lips. you were pulled from him when he placed

                       his hands on the sides of your cheeks pulling you back from him “what is wrong?, did i hurt you?” you asked feeling a small
                       drop of his already leaking pre-cum and your spit running down your chin. he shook his head, heavy breaths escaping his
                       beautiful mouth “i-i just wanna try to feel you around me” he whispered, you’d never seen ivar this vulnerable before,

                       it made you even more wet then you already were. you nodded softly and crawled back up, smiling at his large shaky hands that moved
                       from your face to your hips again. you leaned down and pressed an open mouth kiss to his collar bone, nipping and sucking on
                       whatever skin you could find “i can’t wait to feel you in me, ivar” you whimpered breathily, tongue lapping at his pulse point.

                       ivar groaned, feeling your words travel to his groin. “talk to me more, love” he whisepred moaning when you scrapped your nails
                       over his sides, you adjusted yourself over him leg on each side of his hips “you’re so big, i can’t wait to feel you stretch me out”
                       he’d never wanted this to end, ever. he stared at you transfixed on your movements. you reached your arms back and attempted to untie

                       the back of your dress. ivar sat up, moaing when your thigh brushed against his prick. he grit his teeth together and lifted his
                       hands up to the ties, you smiled when he moved your hands out of the way and started to untie them, you layed you head on his shoulder
                       kissing the skin gently, you never realized how badly you wanted him until this moment. when he undid them he soflty pushed the top

                       of your dress down your shoulders, stopping at the tops of your breasts, he surprised you by pressing a few kisses to the top of your chest
                       and your shoulders. your head flew back exposing more skin to him, moaning loudly when he suckled on your neck, right next to your
                       jugular vein. every sound coming from your mouth was whiney and just sinful sounding, it made ivar tingle and shiver with delight.

                       he finally pulled the dress from your body, revealing your naked body. margarethe had nothing on you, ivar thought. your beautifully
                       flawless skin ready to be kissed, sucked and bit. you grabbed his hand fom your waist and placed it on your breast making him cup you
                       in his large hand. you groaned and accidentally ground your hips against his, making the both of you moan out.

                       "ivar!“

                       "chelle!” the both of you cried out, so sensitive to each others touches. you honestly couldn’t wait any longer, neither could ivar.

                       you gently pushed him back palm flat against his chest, he sighed feeling your bare thighs rub against his, he needed you….now.
                       you moved up a little and sighed out when his prick brushed against your sex. you leaned down and pressed one last kiss to his
                       lips, whilst reaching a hand down grabbing his hard manhood in your small fist, bringing him to your entrance.

                       "are you ready?“ you asked breathlessly, he nodded reaching a hand up bushing hair from your eyes "put me in you” he whispered
                       hotly, you bit your lip, slipping his cock inside you. he was so thick, all of him brushing against your walls the whole time he slid
                       in. you both groaned and gritted your teeth. you layed your head in the crook of his damp neck, giving yourself a moment to adjust

                       "are you alright?“ ivar seethed, gasping for breath, you nodded biting down on his shoulder, then finally snapped your hips forewards.
                       ivar swore deeply under his breath and reached his hands lower gripping your ass tightly in his hands, you swiveled your hips back and
                       forth, front and back, making ivar dizzy with a lust clouded head. you were so tight and warm around him, better then he ever imagined.

                       "ahh, fuck” he whined wildly making you clench at the sound, you felt so deeply connected to him. his cock was reaching places no man
                       had ever reached before, hitting your g spot repeatedly. you moaned crazily into his neck, you couldn’t find the strength to sit
                       up and fuck him furiosly like you wanted, but the way you moved and made love to him right now was somehow even better.

                       "chelle!, i-i can feel y-you, all of -you" he gasped against your hair, he moved his left hand up scratching his nails down your
                       back, not enough to make you bleed, but just enough to sting. you loved it. you lifted your head up continuing to rut against him and
                       looked into his deep dark irises, lips softly touching him “how tight am i?, tell me ivar” you moaned out leaning down to bite on

                       his bottom lip. he sighed out lifting his hand higher into your hair, wrapping it around his fist “so fucking tight, warm, wet”
                       he growled, tugging on your hair like you had done to his. the only sounds coming from the room were his grunts and your cries.
                       you two were glowing, sweat making you slide agaisnt each other swiftly. everything felt so right.

                       you could feel yourself slip closer to the edge, but you wanted ivar to cum first “ivar!, are you c-close?” you moaned squeezing
                       your eyes shut, ivar grunted loudly when you clenched around him, he leaned up biting at the corner of your jaw, making you clench
                       again “y-yess” he brought you closer to him, then made you cry out when he softly started to lift anf pivot his hips against yours.

                       then, you both came, together. with shouts of each others names. it felt better then any orgasem you’d ever had, somehow he still
                       kept thrusting realising every ounce of cum he had left. you collapsed against his chest, shivering and shaking in his arms, along
                       with him.

                       you’d both quieted down, breathing still heavy and loud. he still hadn’t let go of you arms enclosed around your lightly convulsing
                       frame, you finally gathered enough strength to raise your head and kiss him fully on the lips, lips lazily working against each other,
                       tongues brushing against teeth and lips.

                       "so good" he whispered resting his head against yours softly looking in your eyes with such love, awe and adoration. your eyes mirroring
                       his. you loved the fact that he was still inside of you, making you feel that full feeling you’d come to love.
                       "please don’t leave" he whispered again making you frown and lay your head down to his neck, pressing gentle kisses to his skin.

                       "never" you promised feeling his wild heartbeat stutter about. you knew you loved him months ago, but never come to terms with it
                       until now. ivar felt even more connected to you, knowing that you were the first and last person he’d have sex with, he needed you
                       more then anyone, you were his outlet, his home, his love, his chelle, you were no one elses but his.

                       you both spent the night together, talking, laughing, crying about the simplest things, even making love for a second time, and a third.

                       the next day you were back to work, washing clothed like you usually do every morning, and of course the girls were back to talking
                       about the men they’d been with

                       "his prick was so long, it felt so good!“ amae moaned making the girls around her laugh and slap at her playfully, you actually laughed
                       along with them this time, knowing that the prick you’d had last night could over take any mans cock in kattegat.
                       the other girls looked over at you when they noticed you laughing

                       "what are you laughing at chelle?” svenia asked turning her head to the side like a small child would. you piced up your basket of
                        clean clothes, shaking your head at them, a smirk on your lips. you were about to walk back to town when you decided to tease them
                        a bit.

                        “oh nothing, just remembering the most amazing sex i’d ever had last night” you said making them gape at you mouths open wide, you weren’t
                        the type to have sex willy nilly, so this intregued them deeply.

                        “who!?”  "how big?“  "was it ubbe?!”   “how long!?” so many questions that just made you laugh all the harder. you turned your back to them
                         and started walking, you paused, and turned your head to the side, allowing them to see the bruises ivar had left upon your skin.

                         "he was very, very big" you teased even deeper making them   groan and glare at you

                         "who?, who was it?“

                          you chuckled and licked at your slightly swollen lips

                          "ivar lothbrok”.


sorry for the way it was written down my computer literally won’t let me do anything, hope y’all enjoyed this shittyness, to my epic best friend!!! love ya girl!!!!!!! hope ya like it and i hope it lived up to how you imagined it lots of love and thanks from me <3  @zombiexbody

This morning I had coffee with an older man who I see as a type of grandfather figure. He was telling me about how he would travel around and play music when he was younger when I mentioned that being able to do that is a big dream of mine. I told him how badly I wanted to road trip and go places and sing and live out of my car and just be on my own, but how it’s not as possible for me because I am a 19 year old girl. I told him about how one of the only reasons I would ever wish to be a man was so that I could go on adventures like that without people worrying that something bad would happen to me, and without constantly having to fear for my own safety when I’m alone. I consider myself an extremely independent person, but as a woman, it’s that much more of a struggle to be on my own. When he heard me say this, he was completely blown away, saying he had never thought about how hard it is for women to do simple things on their own without worrying about getting harassed, kidnapped, or raped. He, at 73 years old, hadn’t realized how society has taken independence from girls everywhere until today. This is something men go their entire lives without realizing, when girls live it every day. Men don’t get it until someone they care about tells them. This is why feminism is important.