last hearth

girl-of-ink  asked:

bro i love ur hearth so much... he's so lovely. ever thought about drawing him & blitz?

smooch

10

ola, esse tumblr é novo então sigam se gostarem e façam pedidos na ask por favor, meu nome é hellen mas podem me chamar de hells

eu fiz essas headers de algumas séries não ‘’muito’’ conhecidas, espero que gostem

just like

havenothingtodowithme  asked:

Hey! First of all, I love your blog 💖 and are you still doing blitzstone hc? Could I ask for some wedding cerimony headcanons? Or just cute hc in general! Thanks so much 💖

Sorry this took so long, I had a lot to say! I loved writing these!! To anyone else who may have sent me requests, they’re coming

- it’s a few years after preventing Ragnarok for the last time
-hearth & blitz are around 24 maybe?
-they’ve been dating ever since a little before the last possible-Ragnarok when they ended up having a pre-battle, heat-of-the-moment, I-don’t-want-to-lose-you-without-telling-you-how-I-feel Kiss
-but anyway, Blitzen’s best is thriving & Hearth’s magic is way better than it used to be & everything is good and pure
- Blitz proposes like this: on the anniversary of the day Blitz found Hearth in Nidavellir, they go out for dinner in a fancy restaurant, and then (after sundown) take a walk in a park they used to stay in while they were homeless.
-They end up at a quiet fountain w/ no one else around. The street lamps shine off the water & in Hearth’s eyes. It’s dark enough to be romantic & secluded but bright enough to sign easily.
-Taking a deep breath, Blitz gives a little speech (signing & speaking) about how much Hearth means to him & how he’s his everything. This information is nothing new, but Hearth is still completely in awe.
- By now he has the suspicion Blitz is planning something big, but he’s still completely overwhelmed when the tiny dwarf actually gets down on one knee. He doesn’t pull the ring out right away, bc he has to ask Hearth, will you marry me?
- And of course the answer is obvious, they’ve been living together for years now, they’re absolutely a package deal & there’s no way Hearth’s gonna say no. So he just nods and signs Yes really excitedly & pulls Blitzen up to kiss him & then Blitz pulls the ring box out of his jacket pocket and opens it.
- It’s silver & simple & elegant & it has perthro engraved on the band. Both their hands are shaking when Blitz slides it onto Hearth’s ring finger. They kiss again, laughing bc everything is falling perfectly into place. This is their dream come true.
- they get Blitz a ring too. It’s gold & has a wider band than Hearth’s with the same engraving of their family’s symbol
- they invite Magnus, Samirah, & Alex (who has become a part of their family too) over to tell them & the kids are beyond excited for their dads
- so for the actual ceremony, it’s pretty small- just the family, the Floor 19 Crew, Inge, and Freya (Blitz didn’t want to invite her, but Hearth convinced him. She’s your mother, Blitz. And she’s the goddess of love- it’s not like she doesn’t know we’re getting married! If we don’t invite her, we’ll never hear the end of it.)
- Halfborn performs the ceremony, bc he has definitely been ordained at some point in his 1200 year stay at Valhalla
- Magnus is their best man, Samirah is the maid of honor
-Alex is the ring bearer
- Blitz designed everyone’s outfits, obviously. He’s still salty about not designing the outfits for the fake wedding with Thrym tbh. He can’t say it, but he def wants to show up Sif
- and he does! Hearth wears a white suit + his scarf bc it’s 100% necessary. Blitz insisted he not wear black for once. Blitz’ pants & suit jacket are black but his vest is red to match the scarf. He’s wearing a bow tie too
- Magnus’ tux is gray w/ a white vest. His hair is grown back by now so it’s braided on one side to keep it out of his face during the ceremony
- Samirah’s dress is green again with silver lace & her hijab has silver threads in it for accent
- Amir’s tux is deep purple & he’s perfect and beautiful
- Alex is female & her dress is a very pale pink & her makeup is green. The dress stops around knee-length & is very twirlable. Magnus is dying
- jack is here & he insisted upon having a bow tie tied around his hilt
- Blitzen threatened to throw a fit if Halfborn showed up half-dressed like always, so the beserker relented. His suit is dark brown & his beard is braided neatly
- Mallory’s dress is a lighter green than Sam’s and is sleeveless. Her crazy hair is tamed a bit & falls around her shoulders. Halfborn has to concentrate very hard on the task at hand
- TJ refused to wear anything besides his union jacket but he let Blitz fix it up a bit.
- Freya is literally gorgeous, as always. She’s wearing about forty pounds of jewelry & Blitz wonders which piece was responsible for his life until Hearth takes his hand and smiles at him
- Inge is a free hulder now & is pretty close w/ hearth & blitz. Her dress is light blue & her hair is in very elaborate braids. Blitz asked whether she wanted a hole for her tail in the dress & she decided yes. She wears her tail proudly nowadays & is very active among the movement to free the huldrefolk
- also I don’t think anyone invited him but oh look, there’s Odin! The weirdo shows up about two minutes before the ceremony starts and is like “how could I miss the wedding day of my greatest pupil??” And hearth is so green
- tbh I bet Thor & Sif show up too & by this point it’s like…. Any other gods planning on showing up last minute or can we get married already? This is the exact moment when their former boss the severed head appears right in the middle of the aisle & Amir nearly faints
- when Thor shows up Hearth is definitely like who the fuck invited him, that giant dumbass is going to ruin our wedding!! Thor’s just kind of like “Wow my good friend the elf is so happy to see me!!”
- there’s also a suspicious bird at the window… Utgard-Loki…. Is that you, you sneaky fuck
- Marvin & Otis are sitting in the very back of the room with the very strict instructions not to eat any furniture. Otis starts crying in the middle of the vows & chews off an armrest anyway
- after all mystery guests arrive, they can finally start.
- Blitz’ vows start out with him talking about finding hearth in Nidavellir & how important and life-changing their friendship was immediately. He tells hearth who absolutely incredible he is & how honored blitz is to be marrying him.
- hearth’s vows describe how he’d always thought he’d be an empty cup for his whole life, but he never knew that from the moment blitz found him he was being filled more & more everyday bc of their friendship, and how blitz was the first person hearth ever trusted and he can’t believe he’s lucky enough to have him for their whole lives
- they exchange rings & they’re both near tears
- Halfborn says “by the power vested in me by the world of Valhalla, I now pronounce you dwarf & elf. You may kiss the groom” and blitz grabs hearth’s scarf and yanks him down for the kiss & everything’s beautiful
- Magnus definitely cries. The kid’s dads are getting married, give him some slack
- Alex teases him, but her eyes were a little misty for a while there too
- they don’t really have a reception, but the very extended family (so basically the empty cups + floor 19, Amir, & Inge) go back to blitz & hearth’s apartment to celebrate
- blitz bridal-carries hearth over the threshold & it is the cutest thing ever
- one of the boys probably had a bouquet to throw. Sam catches it & she and Amir don’t stop blushing all night
- big tearful family hugs. Blitz, hearth, Sam, Magnus, & Alex having a giant family group hug while the kids are so happy for their parents
- Alex teases Samir & Gunderkeen about when they’re gonna tie the knot. Mallory & Samirah retaliate by bringing up Magnus & making Alex blush a lot
- Inge dancing with hearth & telling him how happy she is for him. She just loves him so much wow. I like to think by this point although she obviously still loves him, she’s gotten over him mostly & maybe has a cute elf gf that’s also active in the free-the-huldre scene.
- Inge dancing w/ blitz afterwards & giving him a stern “don’t you dare hurt that boy” speech but obviously he’s not gonna & they’ve all been friends now for years so by the end they’re just laughing
- blitz & hearth having the first dance as a married couple & just swaying and holding onto each other and at the end they kiss & it’s really slow and sweet and beautiful and I’m dead

This was. Really freaking long, hope you enjoy, xoxo your Local Blitzstone Dealer™

anonymous asked:

What are the roads in Westeros like? Do they have regular matinence and upkeep? If so who does the upkeep? Are the Gold Road, Roseroad, Kingsroad, etc the Westeros equivalent of highways? Because somewhere it's said Ellyn Reyne built roads. So I'm curious, what were medieval roads like and what would you expect Westeros roads to be like?

(First off: there’s a big caveat here that GRRM hasn’t put every road on the map, so there may well be roads we can’t see that change our perception. But based on what we know…)

They’re not great. 

Network:

There’s some pretty obvious missing connections when it comes to the system of royal roads created by Jaehaerys:

  • The River Road should absolutely extend to Maidenpool, and there should probably be a Trident Road connecting Riverun Fairmarket and Seagard. 
  • The Kingsroad should connect to White Harbor and Barrowton, with feeder roads linking White Harbor to Ramsgate, Barrowton to Torrhen’s Square to Winterfell, Kingsroad to Last Hearth to Karhold, and maybe Winterfell to Deepwood Motte to a ferry to Bear Island?
  • The High Road should continue past the Eyrie to Gulltown, with a spur connecting the Eyrie to Ironoaks, Old Anchor, and Longbow Hall.
  • We’re missing a north/south connection from Riverrun down to the Gold Road via Stoney Sept (which also connects you to the Blackwater Rush), and then down to the Roseroad via Bitterbridge.
  • The Ocean Road should extend west to Kayce and north up the coast to the Banefort.
  • The Reach needs an orbital road connecting Old Oak, Red Lake, Goldengrove, Bitterbridge, Ashford, and Horn Hill, connecting back to the Roseroad south of Highgardern. 
  • The Stormlands should have a direct route from Bronzegate to the Roseroad that doesn’t require going more than a hundred miles north out of your way through a congested King’s Landing. It also needs the Kingsroad to extend further south than Storm’s End, linking up with the Weeping Town and Stonehelm where it can connect to the Boneway. 
  • Dorne could use an eastern road continuing the Boneway from Wyl to Yronwood and Yronwood to Godgrace, and a western road linking Skyreach to Sandstone to Hellholt to Vaith. 

Bridges:   

There are not enough bridges in Westeros, and a lot of the bridges that do exist are wooden structures that don’t fare well under heavy flooding. So I would definitely add the following:

  • Bridge over the Trident at the Ruby Ford, so that the main north/south highway in the whole kingdom doesn’t have to rely on a ford and some ferry boats. 
  • Bridge over the Rush at King’s Landing, so that southbound traffic from the capitol to the Reach and the Stormlands doesn’t have to rely on ferries.
  • Bridge over the Mander at Cider Hall or Longtable, over the Blueburn at Grassy Vale, and over the Cockleswent at Ashford, and over the unnamed Silverhall River at Goldengrove. In general, the Reach is bizarrely under-bridged and seriously impedes land traffic in favor of river-traffic. 
  • Bridge over the Red Fork south of Riverrun, and a more secure bridge over the Blue Fork at Fairmarket. 

And yes, I know in some of these cases bridges might not exist due to defensive reasons (although that’s a double-edged sword; bridges work really well to stop Ironborn sailing their longboats up your rivers), but that’s why swing/draw bridges were invented. 

Creed_88 left the following comment on Brandon of the Bloody Blade:

If you ever have a mind to I’d love to see one about Brandon Snow, The last Stark King’s bastard Brother.

“I am not the best to send,” he’d told Torrhen.  “Send someone else.  Send Rufus Manderley or–”

“They do not have my blood.  You’re the only brother I have.  And King Aegon has his own bastard brother.  He’ll know your words have my heart.”

“I’d sooner kill him,” Brandon had snapped, but Torrhen had raised a hand.  Torrhen is younger than Brandon, and calmer.   It’s how I know you’re mine, his father had said, as though Brandon’s long face, grey eyes, and the fact that, after his voice had broken and become a man’s, he could confuse men into thinking he was his father just by speaking, weren’t proof enough. You have the wolf’s blood.  If Torrhen had the wolf’s blood, Brandon had never seen it.

“You’ll bring us peace.  You must.  Your king commands it.”

And so Brandon had gone, and Brandon now sits in a room filled with dragon sigils with three maesters at his side, sitting opposite another calm king.

“Wine?” Aegon Targaryen asks him, and Brandon shakes his head.  He gets tired with wine, and this early in the day, he would sooner have his wits about him.  

“Pomegranate juice, if you have it,” he said. 

Keep reading

The Ice Queen

The Ice Queen

They say the Ice Queen’s beauty is only rivalled by the Targaryen Queen. Her hair is long, red as flame. Her skin is fair as the snow she was raised in. Her eyes blue as the ocean. They say she is tall, graceful, and when she moves it’s like all fades away. They say that her beauty is that etched of the Northern cold, but her fury is as sharp as the Dragonglass that was used to kill the Others. Sharp, and cold, in the North.

She had one sister, the first female Northern War general in the North. They say that she’s as sharp as a Valyrian blade and vicious as a wolf. It’s said that a pack of wolves follow her into battle, howling for the North to rise again.

And her younger, Wildling brother, would never be King. He was far too wild, far too vicious, and far too broken. But they say he fights like a Wildling, and that he rides his Direwolf into battle, like the Young Wolf had.

The Northern Queen, the War General, and the Wildling Brother. Those are the stories they whisper of the Starks.

Jon doesn’t know how they could be true. But then again, it had been so long since he’d seen his siblings (no, cousins now) that he doesn’t know if his memories are real.

But he remembers the sweetness of Sansa, constantly tumbling between wanting to be his sister and making her mother happy. (And he remembers, quite bitterly, how that ended.) And he remembers little Rickon, wild and fun, sweet and wanting so badly to be like Bran and Jon.

And he remembers Arya, too. He remembers her wildness and her daring personality. He remembers how it felt to hold her, how happy she had been to just be accepted. He remembers her grey eyes and dark hair, fair complexion and her hard edges with softness underneath. Insecure, softness beneath.

He wonders how the world managed to turn them all into stories. But then again, here he was. A crow who loved a Wildling and fathered a red haired son with one. The crow who fought against his honor. A crow who couldn’t decide who to fight for. He tried to warn them, and they killed him for it. A crow who was killed and rose again, but not as a Other.

A crow who was waiting for his sister, (no-his Queens) word to give the Free Folk passage through to the Gift.

He wouldn’t hold his breath. But he had little Ed by his side, so he prayed to the Gods he wasn’t sure he believed in anyways.


Arya rode to him. And when he laid his eyes on her he nearly fell from his horse.

She was beautiful, with long hair, a long face, pretty eyes and full lips. But so much more than that: she looked and acted every inch a warrior. Soot marked her face, bringing stark attention to her eyes. She dressed comfortably, but smart. And her cloak was pieced together with Stark colors and a single symbol: the Wolf of the Northern Army.

Tormund, beside him whistled, but a wolf stepped forward, a Direwolf. Nymeria.

“Fucking hell, that’s your sister?”

“Cousin,” Arya says sharply, slipping from her horse. “How many women, children, and old do you have?” She looks around, assessing hard and he feels disappointment set into him.

“Five thousand,” he says, and Ed appears, in awe of her. He steps towards her and she levels a look at him. “And two and a half thousand men and women able to fight.” She nods, but the boy keeps moving around her, until he finally moves through what he assumes is awe.

“You’re a Queen?” He asks, and around him, the Free Folk laugh. He feels the tension set into him. She smirks, though.

“No.” She says leaning down to look into his eyes. She turns back to Jon, and she pierces him with a sharp stare, before turning back at him. “A general. My sister is the Queen. She’s far more beautiful than I.”

Ed is four, with long, curly fire red hair and a round face. But he looks like Jon, his red hair is all Ygritte, but only that. Arya reaches for him and lifts him. She fits him on her hip, carefully and turns to Jon.

“The Queen has fought and bought your favor through the Wall. The Free Folk will be given the Last Hearth, under stipulation.”

The Free Folk bristle and shift in confusion.

“What stipulation?” Tormund asks.

She tilts her head. “You do not steal women. You do not murder. The Last Hearth is stocked well with everything you will need. Food, clothes, armor, weapons. We ask only, until we can sit down and discuss an official treaty, that you do not murder or steal women.” Ed picks at her cloak, and she mostly ignores him, but lets him play in awe of her.

“That’s our culture,” Tormund argues. She raises a dark, daring brow.

“And ours is to keep you North of the wall. We’re all making adjustments.” There’s a fury in the people, but they’re tired. Very, very tired.

“Why the Last Hearth? That belongs to the Umbers.”

Arya raises her brow. “You’ve not heard, then?” He frowns. “They turned against the Starks. Gave the Boltons Rickon. So when Sansa killed Ramsay Snow, Shaggydog tore apart the last of the Umbers. The Last Hearth has been abandoned since Sansa seized the Crown.”

The men and women around him are unsure of Westeros Politics, but Jon steps forward.

“Sansa killed?” Arya smiles a cruel smile.

“Oh Jon Snow, you’ve missed so much.”


When they’re alone, she hugs him, tighter than she used too. She clutches onto him like she’ll lose him. But when she pulls away, she punches him.

“You’re still my brother, you brooding twat!” She snaps. “I don’t care you have a Dragon for a Father, you and I will always be brother and sister.” She’s angry, furious, and full of an ice storm.

“Then why cousin?” He asks, a bit stupidly as he rubs his face. She had a good swing, too.

“Because,” Arya says, sighing. “Sansa says it’s best we treat you as cousin. The Northern Lords are wary of your arrival. Especially with the Free Folk. But fortunately, with word from both you and the Wall of the Others, it’s given them the push to accept this arrangement. But they can’t fuck this up, Jon.”

He nods, sighing “I know. Tormund is speaking to the Elders and they’re trying to push for control. It’s different for the Free Folk, they’ve always been Free.”

“Yeah, well this is South of the Wall Jon. We face war with the Lannisters while the Dragon Queen rages war with them. And we have a war to the North. We can’t have a civil war, Jon. We won’t survive it.” She tells him urgently, and he smiles.

“You’ve changed, Arya.” She pulls away and nods.

“We all have.” She tells him, and then moves over to look at Ed as he sleeps.

“What was she like?” She asks him quietly.

Jon hesitates, remembering her face. Remembering her bitterness as she’d died. Things between them had always been complicated, but his time as a Wildling had tainted him. He was too Wild to bow now, but still too loyal not too. “She was Wildling to the bone. A spearwife. And she died.” Arya turns to see his solemness, and nods.

“He’ll be taken care of. No matter what. Sansa’s already made sure of that.” She promises him. He watches his son as he shifts in bed, still unaware of all the darkness he could face.

After all, he’s a Targaryen and a Stark bastard, just like him.


Sometimes he still dreams of Bran. He knows it’s Bran, the three-eyed raven watches him in these dreams. Sometimes he appears as a boy nearing a man. He’d been the one to tell him.

And it had all fallen into place, in understanding.

“Tell them I love them.” Bran asks him. Jon nods.

“I will.”


Sansa is beautiful, more beautiful than any woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Tormund beside him, even looks a bit shocked. She’s tall, his height. Her hair is deeper than Eds, but long and falls in beautiful waves. Her eyes remind him of her mother’s, but there’s a warmth there that does not. She does look like her mother: but she’s so much more beautiful.

She sits in the Throne of the Last Hearth. The town was nearly dead, with very few inhabitants. She looks very much the Queen she was, as she sits there with warm furs wrapped around her. Two wolves at her side, one black one speckled with white and the other white speckled with grey.

She stands, and so do the wolves.

“Please,” she says smoothly. “There is a stew ready to be served and ale. The Journey through the storm must not have been easy. Warm yourselves here. I am Sansa Stark.” She doesn’t say she’s a Queen, and he’s glad. Though she wears an Iron crown, she does not force herself onto the Free Folk any other way.

They are weary of her, though, and Sansa watches Jon with apprehension and a guard he’s not sure he likes. Sansa, when he was younger, had two expressions. Anger and happiness: but this mask was delicately created and used.

Arya shoved Jon forward, hand in Eds.

And Jon moved forward, and he bows in respect.

“Your Grace.” Ed, sweet little Ed, copies his father.

“Your Grace,” Sansa lets out a small laugh.

“Please, both of you stand.” They did, awkwardly, for Jon, as Sansa steps forward and presses a kiss to his cheek. She kneeled down and pressed a kiss to Eds forehead.

This isn’t the Ice Queen they talk of in the North.


Rickon is more Wildling than anything. But he’s smart, in his own way. In a survivor’s way. When he sees Jon, he runs at him, throws his arms around his neck.

“You look like father.”

It hurts Jon, but not in a bad way. “And you look like Robb.”

Rickon and Ed get along well, but Ed follows Sansa and Arya around. Arya finds it amusing, but Sansa takes him under her wing in a way that makes him feel strange.

She brushes his hair, bathes him, reads to him.

Tormund always looks at him knowing, but Jon doesn’t.

Sansa is kind to all, but rigid when it comes to protecting the North. Sometimes, in the Council he’s been invited too, he sees glimpses of the Ice Queen.

“Your Grace, children should not be punished for their father’s actions.”

“Then they’ll be raised as bastards. The name Frey is dead.” Her voice echoes across the room and Lord Manderly nods, because he lost a son too.

“Yes, your Grace.” And the meeting concludes sharply, and Jon sees a burning white storm growing in her.

She spends the rest of her day sewing.


He finds Sansa with Ed on the throne of Winterfell. He’s resting against her chest as she sings to him. A sad song, of the Night King. But the boy sings the pieces he knows, and she brushes her hand against his hair gently as she does so.

That’s when Jon knows.

It’s a dance, he realizes after nearly a month. Arya smirks and Rickon pushes, leading him down a path he isn’t sure of.

“Just steal her,” Tormund says, rolling his eyes.

“I love her,” Ed tells him honestly.

And Sansa’s eyes become more expectant, they linger on him longer and Jon’s not quite sure he can push it off any longer.

When he appears in her room, she sets down the needle and cloth she’d been working on and raises an expectant brow at him.

He hesitates before he comes to sit next to her.

“I don’t see you as a sister, anymore, Sansa.”

She turns to him, with a careful look. She’s always guarded with men, he knows. And he’s learned enough about Ramsay to know it’s warranted. Jon wishes that he had given the chance to beat the life out of him, cave his face in with his fists, but he hadn’t.

Sansa had done a well enough job, he things. Cut off his cock, and then stabbed him in the throat.

But not without scars.

Ed had seen them. He’d run crying, about how someone had hurt his Sansa. Jon had seen red, and Arya had glared at him for it.

“Leave her alone, she doesn’t want to talk about it.” She hadn’t moved out of his way either, in fact, she’d punched him.

He didn’t blame her either. He was too reckless then.

“Nor I,” she says smoothly. Sure, and practiced.

Jon nods, taking a deep breath.

“I’m not ready for marriage yet, Jon. Or to share a bed with another man. I still…” Her voice fades and Jon shakes his head vehemently.

“We can go slow.”

“There’s a war coming, Jon.” She chastises him.

“I’ve died once, risen again,” he says honestly. “I’ll do it again, if it means making you happy.”

Her mask breaks, and she gives him a smile that’s both heart breaking and real.

“Thank you.”


She’s not the Ice Queen they say she is. And she is. Arya’s not the General they say she is, but she is. And Rickon, well, Rickon is the Wildling brother they say he is.

Jon will be remembered as the man who died and rose. A child of the North and South. A crow that betrayed his vows and fathered a child. A crow that was killed by his men when he came back to save them. A crow who rose. A crow who brought the Wildlings past the wall.

They remember them as the Kingdom who’d brought peace with the Targaryens and Greyjoys, who had fought the Others and drove them back. Who brought peace between the Free Folk and Northerners.

They remember the longest peace in History that fell after that. Ninety years without a war.

They remember Ed Stark, who married and gave up his name for the Southern Queen, daughter of the breaker of chains. They remember Bran the Rebuilder, the first son of Sansa Stark and her crow husband. They remember Robb Stark as a picture of his namesake.

They remember Torrhen Stark, the best smith in all of the North.

And they remember the Wildling twins, Pycelle and Cat, who led the exploration of beyond the Wall after the Great War.

They call the tale the Ice Queen and her crow.

Part 16 - Here to Collect

Pairing: Luke & Y/N

Words: 1.271

Masterlist

Copyright © 2015-2016 DestielHolmes.  All rights reserved.



PART 1 ●○ PART 2 ○● PART 3 ●○ PART 4 ○● PART 5 ●○ PART 6 ○● PART 7 ●○ PART 8 ○● PART 9●○PART 10 ○● PART 11 ●○ PART 12 ○● PART 13 ●○ PART 14○● PART 15


“Thank you.” He said as I cleaned his wounds from the fight.

“For what?” I asked him cleaning his lip making him shudder a bit.

“For staying with me.” I knew that look in his eyes meant something more, something I didn’t know I could give him after all that happen.

“I’m sorry… for leaving.” I whispered my voice weak with regret and guilt.

“Hey look at me baby girl.” He whispered reaching for my chin making me look at his brown warm eyes. “It’s ok. Don’t apologize anymore. I told you I want you back.”

I stared at him contemplating his words. Should I? Could I?

Of course I shouldn’t, I left him for another guy. It’s wrong, I shouldn’t even be here. He shouldn’t defend me and fight for me. I left… I left him. How can he say he wants me back?

My thoughts were swept away when his lips touched mine. It was an old feeling. A good feeling because I always knew with him I would be safe. But it was different from him… Blondie…

I broke the kiss. “I’m sorry Dylan but I can’t.” I said with pain in my voice. I wanted to be with Dylan because I knew I would be safe, I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, I knew I could trust him. But I couldn’t… I couldn’t be with someone when my heart beats for another.

I got out of his house as fast as my feet could let me. Those images got back into my head: when I met him, the kisses, the words, the promises.  All those good moments ruined by that night: how he held her close to him, how he said her name…

“Fuck!!” I screamed and landed on my knees again, in the middle of the street, crying.

It was over and even with all the pain that I felt for what he did I still didn’t want it to be over. How could he do this? I thought we were fine… Was it that stupid name? Lukey… I could hear her moans in my head. “Stop…” I wanted to scream to those images and sounds to stop playing in my head but my voice was too weak and it only came out as a whisper.

“I know it hurts Y/N.” I felt a hand on my back snuggling me. I turned around to see the curled haired guy that I’ve grown to like so much. And in that moment he was a blessing. I felt weak and at list he was there to help me get up on my own two feet. “I know you probably hate him right now but no more than he hates himself.”

“I trusted him Ashton…” I sobbed like crazy my words hard to get out and harder to put together.

“I know.” His arms rapped around me, hugging me. I needed that hug, I really did. “I know it seems like he doesn’t care, that he did it on purpose but believe me he didn’t. You are the last person on hearth that he wants to hurt. You didn’t meet her Y/N… I don’t know how she does it but it’s like she hypnotises you. I can tell by my own experience… I almost fell in her game. That’s what Luke is to her. Just a game.” I frowned. A game? I though they liked each other… I thought she wanted him like I do. “Come one get up. I’ll tell you everything once we get you home ok?” He helped me get up and he placed one of my arms around his neck and one of his own around my waist as he noticed my legs trembling and probably knew I couldn’t walk by myself.

When we got to my house he helped me up to my room and sat me down in my bed.

“I need you to take your pants off.” He said calmly and I looked at him confused. “You’re bleeding.” He gestured with his head to my legs and I looked down at them seeing my pants with little holes in them and dry blood. It must have been when I fell. “Where’s the first aid kit?”

“Bathroom.” I told him with my raspy little voice from all the crying and he nodded.

I took of my pants with a bit of effort because I was acknowledging the pain now and put on some sport shorts.

He got back from the bathroom with the kit in his hand. After he cleaned my wounds and put band aids on them we both sat side by side on my bed.

“Laurel was just like you. She was new in town and had every guy after her.” He started.

“I don’t have every guy after me.” I stated.

“Seriously? How blind are you? Anyway, I guess with so many guys after her it just got up to her head so she didn’t want any guy, she wanted the best, the most coveted. Luke was still in this town when she moved in so she started dating the popular guy in her school. Then when we moved there she instantly knew her boy wasn’t the best. Luke didn’t care about her he was dating Sabrina at the time. She knew our group was popular amongst girls but what she didn’t know was which one was the most desired. She just needed to meet one of us to get in the group and figure that out and it just happened to be me. So we met at a party and I was really into her. We started to go out and eventually she met the boys. We started to go out as a group and that was when she could observe most girls drooling for Luke. I knew her game by then but Luke didn’t. I have no idea how she could split them up. He really loved Sabrina you know? She’s just a manipulative bitch. What I’m trying to say Y/N is that this is a game to her and as long as she has Luke in her hand he won’t be happy and I’m his friend, I want him to be happy.”

“And you think he can be happy with me?” I raised my eyebrows.

“Since he met you Y/N he’s completely different like the old times. He was just… happy. I don’t know how to describe it but you were the only one that could made him like that. You got her off his mind. I know it doesn’t sound that great of a dead but believe me it is. I know he screwed up but at list as a friend you have to help him. You have to take her away from him.” His voice was begging me to save his friend.

“So you want me to split them up?”

“You don’t need to split them up Y/N because you already did. Luke is yours, she’s just messing with his brain.” He pointed out. “I know you love him.” I looked at him wide eyed. I didn’t even know my feelings how did he? “And if it’s not love I know it’s close to that so just fight for him. Fight for what you want Y/N. I know he did what he did but please understand. He needs you.”

“I don’t know Ash…” I said looking down at my hands.

“Let’s do this then. On Friday there’s a party at a friend of mine, I’m sure Abbie knows about it. Laurel will be there and so will Luke. If you truly care about him you’ll come.”

Copyright © 2015-2016 DestielHolmes.  All rights reserved.

PART 17 →


You voted and here it is. Did you like it? What is this Laural bitch doing to our Blondie? Do you want more? Tell me here!!

8

asoiaf meme (minor characters): 5/7 houses ~ house blackwood

Amongst the houses reduced from royals to vassals we can count the Flints of Breakstone Hill, the Slates of Blackpool, the Umbers of Last Hearth, the Lockes of Oldcastle, the Glovers of Deepwood Motte, the Fishers of the Stony Shore, the Ryders of the Rills…and mayhaps even the Blackwoods of Raventree, whose own family traditions insist they once ruled most of the wolfswood before being driven from their lands by the Kings of Winter (certain runic records support this claim, if Maester Barneby’s translations can be trusted). // nur fettahoğlu as betha blackwood, selma ergeç as melissa blackwood 

Greatjon X Stark!reader...

((Hehe, I really enjoyed writing this honestly! I did my best to include all the parts of your request and I hope it was enough fluff for you. Angst and fluff…I can’t write these things on the fly. Especially angst…for someone reason I just don’t feel I’m good at it haha))

Word Count: 1,891

He scared you, honestly. That was the first thought you had about Jon Umber, known also as the GreatJon for his height and muscular stature, when you got your first true glance of him.

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beneaththegold-thebittersteel  asked:

Hi PQ, thoughts on the characterization/personalities of the new Show!Lords' Umber and Karstark?

(spoilers for released TWOW chapter below)

Hiya! Missed opportunity. Neither Arnolf Karstark nor Whoresbane Umber are given much attention in the books, but they shine through as distinctive characters nonetheless, especially when they’re contrasted with each other, which I think GRRM intends for us to do given that he sat them next to each other in Theon I ADWD. 

Arnolf’s a sly-tongued backstabber eager to sell out his own family. It’s no coincidence that he and his rotten sons are allied with Ramsay, as like him, they represent the worst of the Northern homefront, the murderous ambitions that led to the Hornwood dispute (which as Attewell laid out, left the North vulnerable to the Ironborn invasion). I’d argue that Arnolf is worse than Rickard, and it does the heart good to see Stannis take him down (“you are dead men, understand that”) in Theon I TWOW with Jon and Alys’ help. 

Whoresbane is one of my very favorite minor characters: a gay hyper-intelligent possibly-wizard of whom everyone seems both terrified and oddly fond. If the other Umbers embrace and embody the big-bluff-brawler archetype of the family, Whoresbane’s there to remind us of their magical roots and their “cunning.” The best summary of Whoresbane’s character is that Roose of all people can’t even describe what makes him so intimidating in Theon III ADWD; the Lord of the Dreadfort simply trails off. 

In the show? We get a young Karstark and Umber whose blase reactions to Ramsay killing Roose make it very difficult to get invested in the political context and take these characters seriously. I’m also really irritated by the show’s habit of using pedophilia as a way to signal that a character’s evil when we already know they’re evil (coughMerynTrantcough). Moreover, where ADWD subtly communicates that Whoresbane is still a Stark loyalist at heart, the show has Not Whoresbane outright refuse to bend the knee to Ramsay, which is just so heavy-handed and obvious. So “The North Remembers” will not pack anywhere near the same punch in the show as it did in ADWD, because we’re lacking those interesting, well-defined characters whose interactions with their context make sense. (That’s without even getting into Wyman and Barbrey…)

Broken Crown - Part 3

Pairing: Jon Snow x Reader (at this point I should give her a name)

A/N: Please don’t hate me after this. Quick question, how would those who like my writing feel if I were to start a story on here? All my own characters and plot. It’s been in my head for a while, I just couldn’t decided if I wanted to post on here or Wattpad. Let me know!!!

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 4 

To the Lady Sansa of House Stark and House Dayne,

       She has become numb. When I hold her, I feel her body crumble into nothing. As I pretend to sleep, I hear her up all night. Violent sobs rake through her body and ruin my heart. She is not the same as she once was. This is not the woman we met so long ago. I love her, more than I have ever loved another. But, I am afraid the feelings are not reciprocated anymore. What happened during the Battle of the Dead, haunts her. Sometimes I wish it was me who did what she had to do. I am torn by it too, but there is something inside of her that has been completely wrecked. I thought moving back up to Winterfell was going to help, but she is still not happy. All I am trying to say is, I need your help. Please come North. Tell your husband it is by order of the King and also your brother. Little sister, I wish you the safest of travels. 

Jon Snow is alive. He has done the impossible but, he could not have done it without his Queen. The Night King is gone and the time that followed should’ve been one of celebration. Except, Jon finds himself two months later holed up in his study writing a letter and pleading with his sister to come North. 

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Robb x Reader!Frey...

Imagine being the daughter to Walder Frey and getting injured at the Craig after secretly being apart of Robb’s army.

((hehe, I got carried away with this one…just a bit ;) ))

Word Count: 2,586

Warning: Sex…not detailed too much though

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House Words Wednesdays: House Umber

Happy July, everyone!

As you may have seen, I have started a feature on the Tumblr called House Words Wednesdays. Each week, I take a House without known canon or semi-canon words and present what I think could make sense as that House’s motto. You’re free to suggest more as well, if your favored House has not yet been suggested; take a look at this link to see what has already been suggested, and shoot me a tweet or ask through Tumblr if you have another House you’d like to see done.

From one Stark loyalist family to another, this week is House Umber of the Last Hearth (on a somewhat unrelated note: I’ve always loved the name “the Last Hearth” for the Umber seat. It just sounds cool). The Umbers control the northernmost lordly seat in the North, ruling over the Last River and the Lonely Hills (more cool names).  Situated near the Wall, the first line of defense for the North (after the Night’s Watch itself) against wildlings, the Umbers have often found themselves in the past the targets of those beyond the Wall: a cousin of a Lord Umber and the only daughter of Mors “Crowfood” were both carried off in wildling raids, and the Umbers have joined with the Stark kings to fight Kings-Beyond-the-Wall in the past. Theirs is a hard land that breeds hard, tough people.

The Umber sigil is a roaring giant, breaking his chains - appropriate for a family that has bred many gigantic men (like the Greatjon). In the past, I’ve seen people focus just on the breaking of chains to make words, but for me, that doesn’t capture everything about the Umbers. Don’t get me wrong, I want to see (D)Greatjon Unchained as much as everyone else, but I wanted to think about what could describe the Umbers as whole.

For me, it always came back to the idea of loyalty. The Umbers seem to resemble their far-north neighbors, the mountain clans, in being supremely loyal, but only when it’s been proven to them why they should be loyal. The Greatjon at first attempted to loudly cow young Lord Robb, but after Grey Wind bit off two fingers, the Greatjon recognized Robb as a respectable commander and became one of his fiercest lieutenants. Hother “Whorsebane” was mightily displeased with being forced to ally with “the fat sack of suet” Wyman Manderly on a proposed naval mission in the far north, and grumblingly did so only when commanded in the name of King Robb. He later swore fealty to Roose Bolton, but only because the Freys held his nephew the Greatjon captive; it is widely suspected within Winterfell that Hother is not as loyal as he appears, and has in fact been conspiring with similarly vengeful Wyman Manderly. On the opposite side, the wildling-hating Mors sided with Stannis after the latter’s defeat of the great wildling host at the Battle of Castle Black. Still, he maintains great loyalty to his brother within Winterfell, pointedly informing Stannis that he would not fight Hother.

That’s why I think the Umber words could be Only Loyalty Can Bind. It’s very demonstrable that, physically, Umbers cannot be contained: the Greatjon drank under the table the three Freys tasked with getting him too drunk to put up a fight, and then after was only subdued when eight men attacked him, even managing to kill one, wound two, and bite off the ear of Leslyn Haigh. That’s what I think the giant on the sigil represents: ordinary means of binding someone to another’s cause will not work with the Umbers. I think the Umbers are more like the wildlings than they like to admit: they’re more lordly, of course, and put more stock in “southron” ways, but they are a people impressed first and foremost by strength. Prove why the Umbers should be loyal to you, and the Umbers will be your fiercest champions, formidable fighters and loud proponents of your cause. They cannot be bound by chains or mere legal theories; the Greatjon made clear, in his “King in the North” speech, that he had no intention of following Renly or Stannis or Joffrey, southron pretenders with no experience of the North, who never proved themselves to the North. The Umbers were and are Stark men first, and that loyalty to the Starks will bind them to the wolves’ cause.

But what do you think about these Umber words? Let me know. We have two weeks ahead of extinct Houses, starting with some ancient riverkings.

The Queen Regent (NFriel)

This is why I love the Umbers so much: the Greatjon is introduced in Game as this larger-than-life none-more-Northern badass, roaring with laughter after his fingers get torn off…and then we meet his uncles in Clash, and they make him look positively moderate. Like, I imagine Lord Jon trying to rule sensibly at Last Hearth, doing his best to ignore Mors and Hother hovering in the background, muttering “sellout” and “these kids, bro, they don’t got the spine we had in our day” and “great? Great? That’s all you got, nephew? We got our nicknames from playing bitey-backsies with a bird and arrangin’ intestines on a tree, and you settle for a one-syllable common-as-dirt adjective? Pfft. And you call yourself an Umber.”

So when Grey Wind ate the Greatjon’s fingers, there’s no way he wasn’t thinking to himself “Hmm, ‘Wolfsfood?’ Nah, that’s just an imitation, that won’t impress them…”