4.6 // 5.8

“The best whores are at the Happy Port, down by where the mummers’ Ship is moored.” She pointed. Some of the dockside whores were vicious, and sailors fresh from the sea never knew which ones. S’vrone was the worst. Everyone said she had robbed and killed a dozen men, rolling the bodies into the canals to feed the eels. The Drunken Daughter could be sweet when sober, but not with wine in her. And Canker Jeyne was really a man. “Ask for Merry. Meralyn is her true name, but everyone calls her Merry, and she is.” Merry bought a dozen oysters every time Cat came by the brothel and shared them with her girls. She had a good heart, everyone agreed. “That, and the biggest pair of teats in all of Braavos,” Merry herself was fond of boasting.
Her girls were nice as well; Blushing Bethany and the Sailor’s Wife, one-eyed Yna who could tell your fortune from a drop of blood, pretty little Lanna, even Assadora, the Ibbenese woman with the mustache. They might not be beautiful, but they were kind to her. 

Cat of the Canals, AFFC

Compromising position - Part two

Request - Hi! Could you please write a one shot with either y/n and Dan or a threesome with Dan, Phil, and Y/N based on the new ducktape dancing DDR video? Please make it a little rough and kinky but sweet at the end. Thank you so much! ❤

This is part two of compromising positions!

Link to part two

Request box is still open!
Threesome smut ahead!

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taiey asked:

I don't think the swords Blackfyre and Dark Sister are Chekov's guns at all, actually: they've never been mentioned in the main books. They might appear (probably unnamed if so) but I don't think they can be important to the story when they're only established in supplements.

Bloodraven was named precisely one time in the main books before he showed up as the true identity of Bran’s three-eyed crow. Almost all we know of the Blackfyre Rebellion was only established in supplements, and yet “the mummer’s dragon” is going to be a major plotline come TWOW. Almost all we know of the Dance of the Dragons was only established in supplements, and yet GRRM has said there will be a second Dance that will be the subject of a book.

GRRM established these swords only in supplements, yes, and you don’t need to read the supplemental materials to understand the main story. Nevertheless, to see how the story will go, the additional materials are rather important. 

Don’t Be Silly! Wrap Your Willy!

You laid out on Lukes bed as he tried to explain for the millionth time some math problem, but you couldn’t focus as your eyes kept wondering over the tall blonde boys body. The way he would bite his lip, and that sexy lip ring. You moaned.

“Y/N? Are you okay?” Luke asked startled. Your eyes went wide and your faced went red. 

There was a long awkward silence as you had no idea what to say to him. Some sort of realization came over Luke as a smug smile crept onto his face. He tossed the math book aside and crawled over you. 

“I see why you’re not understanding math now.” He mummers.

You bite your lip as he hovers you, his lips meeting yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck as he deepened the kiss. He smiled as he flipped you both over so you were on top. 

He leaned up taking his shirt off, and you followed his lead, slowly sliding your shirt off your body. 

Lukes hands immediately find their way to your breasts. 

You push him back against the headboard as you take control- somthing you know Luke likes. You slide your hands down his chest till you reach  his pants tugging  on his pants as you both slide them down his legs.

You take his dick in your hands and being to pump. “You ready babe?” You asks with a wink. 

Luke lets out a low moan as a yes. 

You slide up hovering above him. 

“Fuck you weren’t wearing panties.” 

You respond my sliding onto him. You get a good pace going and your moans fill the air. 


The knocking on the door grabs both of your attentions. You don’t have anytime to cover up everything when Liz walks in. 

“Luke I made dinne- LUCAS! You better be using protection!” Liz gasps before quickly leaving the room. 

“What the hell just happened?” You mutter. 


Bucky Barnes x OFC.

Read on A03.

The humidity of the city is practically unbearable during the height of the season, evaporation impossible as beads of sweat cling to your brow and heavy sighs force labour upon your lungs. The heat triggers your insomnia and shifting through a catalogue of positions you only manage to get tangled further in the sheets, submerged into the world of reality as opposed to dream.

Your feet stick to the floor as you stand in front of the open panes of glass, landscape painted in shades of grey as you hear the gentle mummer of a song breaking through the air from the bar down the street; drunk men stumbling home to wives and mistresses as your nightgown clutches at the corners of your body like a desperate lover making you wonder how the latest news can possibly be true.

Casting your eyes skywards you watch the stars take on the form of Bucky’s lopsided scrawl, the words of the letter folded against your dresser blazing against the midnight velvet causing tears to slip between your lashes as they fill the sky.

‘We’ll have to visit again when this is all over doll, you’ll love the nightlife and the way that the moon stretches out against the horizon. It feels like you’re standing on the edge of the world when it gets dark – staring into oblivion if you head towards a certain spot. I’m pretty sure that together we could conquer even that though; you and me against the world, wasn’t that the deal? I’ll be back for you soon, sweetheart. I love you. James.’

The words were written with the intention of soothing the pain of his absence and yet their delivery had only caused your blood to run cold as another uniformed officer stood in Bucky’s place, handing over the tattered piece of stationary alongside a starch white envelope and unfamiliar cursive, “My condolences, ma’am.”

You had fallen to your knees as he walked away, tugging at your clothes as you struggled to process just what the telegram could possibly mean when it told you in the words of the Unites States military that ‘We regret to inform you that Sargent James Buchanan-Barnes of the 107th has been declared missing in action’. He couldn’t be gone; you refused to accept it. He was coming back for you. He had given his word that he would and Bucky Barnes never went back on a promise.

The official template was speaking of a man foreign to you, a soldier poised for war whom you had never had the privilege of meeting. You didn’t know Sargent Barnes – you only knew the boy who cried watching Sleeping Beauty; the teenager who spent a summer in plaster for saving his best friend from a group of thugs; the lover who made you feel like the Earth’s most precious stone; the man that assured you he would always come home. You knew Bucky, not an army rank.

Staring at the paper you considered how many next of kin had suffered the fate of such wretched words, the ambiguity of such a letter making it sound as if they were children lost to play and not men sent out on false authority to battle suicide missions. It was the uncertainty of lost futures that caused the most pain, everything you had believed to be true discarded in a few broken sentences and once again you felt like the world was falling from beneath you.

Sliding to the floor you tried to distract your mind with a list of things that needed to be done now that James was… missing. First you would have to visit his mother - explain the news that he had so feared her having to hear when he first enlisted - and then there was Steve – Steve who had gone blazing after Bucky into the line of fire as if they were still children on the playground. They had always been inseparable and a new wave of anguish ripped through you on Steve’s behalf as you realised how this could no longer be possible. You had lost a lover, his mother a son but Steve had lost the most. He had lost a brother, a best friend and his one true ally.

Right now you needed to be strong, if it wasn’t for you then for the Captain sent out overseas to join the man who would no longer be at his side. Steve may not have known it yet but he needed you and it was your duty to Bucky – to the man who you would always love – to be there for him and you’d be damned if you were letting either of them down.

sorriso-de-papel asked:

Do you think Varys might've been a servant of the God of Many Faces? I remember how Tyrion mentioned Varys ability of camouflage;at Red Keep he could be clean and smell like lilacs. Next to the whorehouse where he had Tyrion to meet Shae he looked like a stableman, smelling like shit. And the Kindly Man said to Arya that if she didn't want to be no one and serve the God, he could arrange her trip, gold, and a husband. I think Varys learned tricks and accepted to leave the House of Black and Whit

Hey :)

No, I don’t think that Varys ever studied with the Faceless Men. He’s a mummer and the Faceless Men highlight the importance of mummery and disguise. I think he’s no more related to the FM than the people in Izembaro’s mummer’s troupe. What you’re talking about is great skill with mummery that can be picked up outside the HoBaW.

I don’t think someone can simply learn the FM’s arts and leave. Arya’s chapters make that pretty clear I think. 

Also, Varys doesn’t really seem to have much in common with the FM beyond his secrets and disguises. He’s not a expert potion/poison maker. He doesn’t seem to have one clear goal. He’s kept the same identity and face for well over a decade at this point. 

There’s tons of reasons to doubt this. One, if he is a FM, why has he been in Westeros for so long? Why is he utilizing his knowledge over and over again, his spy network, for other non-FM related activities? What’s the purpose, how could this possibly be a worthwhile investment for the FM?

What’s with Aegon then? What’s with his dealings with Illyrio regarding Targaryens? The FM are definitely involved in politics in some way, just as they seem to be involved in everything to some degree in Braavos. But that’s just it, in Braavos. To have an operative so entrenched in Westerosi politics, remaining there for so long (18 years at least since he was around when Tywin was Hand of the King to Aerys Targaryen,) would imply that the FM have a huge investment in Westeros and its politics. Who’s paying for that? With lines like this:

“Do you have any idea how costly they are? You could hire an army of common sellswords for half the price, and that’s for a merchant.“ Littlefinger in Ned, AGoT

I doubt anyone could afford that. And if it was a FM related want (which the KM says they don’t do if he can be trusted,) then they must really really care because it’s such a waste at this point, such a slow burn time commitment and big resource drain.

And his creepy spy network of no-tongue children is not very in line with Faceless Men’s tactics and spy network from what we’ve seen. They highlight the assassin/spy utilizing stealth and opening their ears to gain knowledge. Varys has a spy network of his own where he uses others, people who are 100% not FM, to gather secrets.

But I do think that Arya is mirroring Varys with the skills she’s learning.

Foes and false friends are all around me, Lord Davos. They infest my city like roaches, and at night I feel them crawling over me.” The fat man’s fingers coiled into a fist, and all his chins trembled. “My son Wendel came to the Twins a guest. He ate Lord Walder’s bread and salt, and hung his sword upon the wall to feast with friends. And they murdered him. Murdered, I say, and may the Freys choke upon their fables. I drink with Jared, jape with Symond, promise Rhaegar the hand of my own beloved granddaughter … but never think that means I have forgotten. The north remembers, Lord Davos. The north remembers, and the mummer’s farce is almost done. My son is home.
—  great shit that was left out of the show to make room for grey worm crushin on missandei
Mummers’ dance(Open starter)

The song of summer was a beautiful song indeed mostly when mingled with the joyous chorus of revelers dancing about with flowers in their hair and wine flowing from the vine. This was Fey revel that was for sure, but still this gathering filled Mary’s heart. 

She hummed and danced through the festival in her loose and flowing dress, a deep V in both the front and back, a risque design to some she was sure, but oh how beautiful did it make the aasimar feel. And the baby breath weaved into her hair was was braided and wrapped around her head.

The seeker passed out flowers to those she passed even danced with a few people herself, before she was convinced by some other visiting bards to sing a little something, for it wasn’t often a seeker was present. and with joy and delight she did