Request - Reader is one of Ned’s ward’s is secretly in love with Jon but doesn’t know that Robb, Jon and Theon are all fawning over her.
Pairing - Jon Snow X Female Reader
Wordcount - 5.431
Warnings - Normal Game of Thrones type scenarios.
A/N - I could do a part two to this
Ned Stark had always been a very kind and gentle man. On a particularly rough stormy night where the wind was so powerful and people struggled to walk through it, Ned was just returning home from a particularly long travel to a place where the disputes had turned from aggressive confrontation to bloody and gruesome battles, Ned had been instructed by King Robert to dissolve the quarrel and quickly, when he had heard the wails of a baby. Ned suddenly became more alert to his surroundings. As he dismounted his horse, he began to search for the cause for the sound. Ned soon located the sound to find the small baby wrapped very scarcely in a couple of woven blankets. How could anyone leave a baby like this? Ned thought as he scooped the baby into his arms, holding it close to himself in an attempt, to share his warmth. Ned mounted his horse and continued the rest of his short journey home, praying to the old God’s that the baby would survive the cold until he could reach the warmth of the castle. The God’s have blessed this child, Ned thought as he entered his chambers where his wife laid waiting for him, wrapped in warm furs.
“Ned is that another one of your bastard children that you insist on tormenting me with.” Catelyn snapped at her husband as she pushed the furs away from her body, whether it was to inspect the child further or to injure Ned, he couldn’t be quite sure.
“Relax my love, this baby is not mine, I found the baby nearby abandoned in the snow. I couldn’t leave it there to suffer and die. The baby is strong, near death and still made it all the way here.” Ned laid the baby down on the furs, it’s skin with a blue tint. Yet as cold as the baby was, it was still curious looking around the room at the strange people. Catelyn, got out of bed, walking over to the baby, the baby turned out to be a little girl, with bright Y/C/E, Catelyn’s gaze melted at the sight. She had always wanted a girl, there was no doubt that Ned and herself would have more children, yet Catelyn was not going to give up the opportunity to have a little girl sooner.
“She certainly is strong, why don’t we take her in as a ward? Let’s call her Y/N, I’ve always thought it was a beautiful name.” Catelyn, picked up the newly named little girl, holding her tightly to her chest.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, my love. Y/N it is”
having a dog named water wouldnt be so bad if their cat wasn’t named mackerel. rin should probably never let haru buy their pets by himself. also, tiny shoutout to @animewolf112 for bringing mizu into this world !!
(With my deepest apologies to Shakespeare and Dr. Seuss)
Can I kill my Uncle Claude? Yes, I can, I can, by God! I will kill my Uncle Claude!
Should I kill him in the house? Should I kill him while he’s soused? I could kill him here or there I could kill him anywhere Would I, could I, while he prays? Kill him! Kill him! Wherefore stay? I would not, could not, while he prays!
Not in the house, not when he’s soused, Not with his sister, now his spouse! Not while he prays, not while he feasts, O, incestuous, adulterate beast! I do not like my Uncle Claude, I do not like that bloody bawd!
Say! In the dark? Here in the dark! Would I, could I, in the dark?
Should I kill him in his bed? Should I there strike off his head? Kill him with his nightcap on? Kill him when the churchyards yawn? Should I kill him where he lies? I will kill him, by and by! I do not like my Uncle Claude, I’ll kill him, i’ th’ name of God!
The play! The play! The play’s the thing! The thing wherein I’ll catch the king! No more ‘to be or not to be,’ I will kill him, you will see!
Kill him while he wears his crown Kill him while his guard is down
Kill him with some poisoned wine Kill him with this sword of mine
O, is the point envenomed, too? I’m dead–Horatio, adieu! But tell them, tell them, more or less, Who it was that made this mess!
I did not like my Uncle Claude, I killed him in the name of God! Good friend, report my cause aright– And now, goodnight goodnight goodnight!
I figured I would do this one before the others because I tend to write better with Lafayette, and my past few imagines have not been as good as they should be. (And my Jefferson smut is my most popular imagine, you sickos ;)
full on smut this time. This is the first time I’ve ever written a sex scene. Please don’t hurt me.
My dearest (Y/N),
My deepest apologies for being called into action at such an unfortunate time the last day we saw each other. I was in such a rush I did not even have the chance to kiss you goodbye. I would like to make this up to you, my love. Please meet me at my office today at 4pm, sharp. Dress accordingly. I eagerly await your arrival.
Frowning at the letter that had been slipped under your door early this morning, you wondered what he meant by “dress accordingly”. You had slipped on a scarlet dress and quickly hurried down to his office. You knew he didn’t want you to be late. Lafayette hated waiting.
“Miss (Y/N)?” the receptionist called out.
You stood up at the calling of your name.
“Sir Lafayette is ready for you.”
You thanked the receptionist, and hurried down the hall towards his office. You saw the large double doors in sight. Approaching them, you took a deep breath in. Were you ready for this? Is this what you wanted?
You exhaled. Yes, yes it was.
You knocked three times on the large, white doors. You were ready.
“Come in!” a familiar french voice sang.
You pushed the door open, revealing the elegant room inside. Lafayette’s office was a large room, big enough to be a venue, complete with marble floors, an expensive-looking main desk, large windows that stretched up to the ceiling, and a long meeting table sitting in the middle of it all. Not that you expected anything less.
“(Y/N!), my sweet,” Lafayette started as he approached you, grabbing your hand and kissing your knuckles. “How have you been?”
“Wonderful,” you responded, eyeing his getup. A navy coat over a white shirt and white pants with brown boots. His wild hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. Sure, he looked the same as any other revolutionary, but something about Lafayette was undeniably sexy. Whether it was his confidence, his voice, his accent, or his body, you didn’t know. But you began to experience the feeling of lust you felt when you first laid eyes on him.
“And how are you?”
“Ah, business has actually been pretty stressful lately, it has been taking a toll on me.” He smiled before continuing on.
“But I feel much better now that I found myself a little kitten to play with.” he flirted, gently caressing your cheek with his hand. He ran his thumb along your lip, and you kissed it in response. He smirked.
“I want to play…” you confessed, looking innocently up at him and blushing.
“Oui, bon chaton,” he breathed, dipping down to softly kiss you. His lips were soft and warm.
He then stood up.
“Pardon me for a moment,” he said as he walked over the the double doors, pulling them shut. He reached into his coat pocket and brandished a small key, sticking it into the door and twisting it. You heard the lock slide into place. No going back now.
He strutted back over to you, then began to back you up onto his desk.
“Now you’re mine,” he whispered, sending a shiver down your spine and slightly turning you on.
To your surprise, he didn’t kiss you or touch you. Instead, he took a few steps back.
“Remove your dress.” he commanded.
You gave him a strange look.
“Marquis, we’re in a public office. Wouldn’t you rather go someplace a little more priv-”
“You heard me. Take. It. Off.” he reinforced.
You hesitantly obliged, reaching behind your back to undo the zipper, and removing your arms from the sleeves as you slid the dress off.
You now stood before him in a matching set of white lace underwear.
“Ah, you want to impress me, no?” he smiled as he ran his hand along the lace of your underwear.
“I know what you want, kitten.” he purred. “You need only ask for it.”
You responded by wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing him passionately. He seized the opportunity to reach his hands behind your back and skillfully unclasp your bra, and sliding it off you. He bent down, hooked his arms around your legs, then gently lifted you onto the desk, before cramming his tongue into your mouth. You swirled your tongue with his, fighting for dominance. He suddenly parted his lips from yours, and stuck two of his fingers in your mouth. You sucked on them passionately, never breaking eye contact with him. He grinned as he them removed them from your mouth, and pressed them to the cloth middle of your panties. He them rubbed them along the cloth, up and down, successfully stimulating you. You grabbed your panties, and began sliding them down your legs, with Lafayette’s help.
His fingers then returned, slowly sliding them up and down over the skin before rubbing circles over your clit. You arched you back in pleasure and moaned. He continued this, picking up the pace as you gasped and moaned, waves of pleasure washing over you. You felt yourself become wetter as he then slowed down his pace, leaving you wanting more. He then removed his fingers, admiring how sticky they were, before shoving them into your mouth again. You sucked on them once more, bobbing your head up and down. Once he believed they were clean enough, he lead the two of his fingers play with your clit a bit more, before he slipped them inside you. You gasped at the sensation, then moaned as he began pumping his fingers in and out of you.
You began to lower your back onto the desk as he continued.
In and out, in and out.
You melted into his hands.
In and out, in and out.
He then suddenly removed his fingers from you, causing you to whimper at the sudden loss of stimulation. You then stopped when you realized he was unbuttoning his pants, undoing his zipper, and taking out his-
There was a sharp knock at the door.
You both looked over at it, both mortified and confused.
“Who is it?” Lafayette finally called out.
“General Washington.” the voice called back. “Please, this is an important matter, can I speak with you right away?”
“Yes, Sir! One moment please,” Lafayette yelled back, currently kicking your discarded clothes under the desk.
You looked at him, panicked and unaware of what to do.
“The desk,” he whispered. “Get under the desk!”
You hopped off the desk, ran to Lafayette’s chair, and slid into the space beneath it. Luckily, the desk had slabs of wood on the other three sides, making you well hidden from Washington. You listened as Lafayette buttoned his pants up and made his way over to the door.
They greeted each other, then began talking to each other. You were too far away to hear what about. Your body froze as you heard footsteps approaching the desk.
“I think I have it filed here.” Lafayette explained. Lafayette quickly sat down at the desk, blocking you from Washington and framing you with his legs. He opened a drawer, and picked up a manilla folder.
“This may be it, sir,”
“Thank you, Lafayette.” you heard Washington’s voice on the other side of the table.
All went silent as Washington reviewed the papers. You looked up at Marquis, seeing his legs and his quite obvious boner. You smirked out of pride. Then an idea popped into your head.
You schooched a bit closer to Lafayette before carefully undoing his buttons and zipper. Sure enough, his boner sprung out. You gently removed it from his underwear, before giving the head a light lick. You felt him shiver. Washington continued reading the paper, completely oblivious as you sucked on the tip of Lafayette’s shaft, as he grew harder yet. He was obviously trying to stifle a moan.
“So, Lafayette, would you make any adjustments to these?” Washington suddenly asked.
In one swift movement, you took his entire shaft in your mouth and began bobbing your head up and down.
“A…..aaaahhhhh would not, no” Lafayette tried to respond.
“Should Hamilton proofread these?”
You ran your tongue up the underside of his length.
“Are you okay, Lafayette?” George asked, concerned.
“Actually I feel a bit sick,” Lafayette lied, trying to explain the moans.
“Ah, I see. I’ll be going then.”
You vigorously sucked as Lafayette bid farewell and wished Washington luck. Once he was in the clear, he looked down at you, still happily sucking.
“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” he joked, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pushing himself into your mouth, taking over the rhythm. You swallowed around him and let him throat fuck you as he rolled his head back in ecstasy, beads of sweat forming on his brow.
His breathing hitched.
“I’m gonna…cum.” he breathed.
You tore away from him, before standing up, sitting on his lap, and pushing his length into you. You both moaned and you ground your hips together, pushing into each other. His hands traveled down to your ass and grabbed it while you rode him, while you sucked tenderly on his neck. You felt an oncoming orgasm, and blissfully rode it out as you rolled your hips along his. He could not take it anymore, and finished inside of you, letting out a deep groan as he did. You then leaned into him and tenderly kissed his lips, as he kissed back. That was the best sex either of you had ever had.
Summary: Requested by two anons:“Can you write an Ethan imagine thing where he comes home really sick and throwing up and Grayson is trying to take care of him and he calls you (Ethan’s girlfriend) to take care of him and come over and see if you can help him get better?” and “shower with sleepy e or g? I’m not asking for anything smutty, just cute cute sleepy baby” Word Count: 1,562 Warnings: Vomiting (if that makes you icky). A/N: My deepest apologies for everyone who have waited for a new imagine. I’ve been so, so busy with life that I’ve had to put writing aside. But I hope you like this one! xx
“What’s going on, G?” You asked as Grayson answered the door, a squeak of protest as he pulled it open. He squinted as the sunlight hit his eyes and they settled on you after a few seconds.
You frowned as you saw the worry in his eyes, wondering what the hell was going on. Both Grayson and Ethan had been out for their daily pancake date and you had been at home, studying for your finals and sending Snapchats back and forth to your boyfriend. He had seemed fine, but he stopped answering after a while and you hadn’t thought anything of it.
Grayson had called you a few hours later, asking if you could come over because Ethan needed you. That was all you needed to hear, taking the bus as fast as you could to their apartment, worry eating you from the inside.
I guess I’ve been throwing awkward jokes recently *cries
the first picture supposed to be 19 days’ mock BTS from last the previous chapter (not the latest) and the second picture was a good-for-nothing awkward jokes hahah -_- sorry
oh right, please be careful with internet now! you guys heard about the hacking by WannaCry (cmiiw) no? my friend’s friend just got his laptop infected with that! every file turns to “(original file name).php.wncry” god it was a mess :(
whats up yall i think titles are overrated anyway have this garbage i wrote about virgils hoodie and how nice it is? it looks so comfy. so nice. something was bound to happen to it.
prinxety, ~1500 words, im so tired
Virgil and Patton had looked everywhere, but they still hadn’t found Virgil’s old jacket. His new purple hoodie was in the wash, and while he had others, he still felt more comfortable in his old one – it provided familiarity. Unfortunately, it had completely and utterly disappeared.
For the time being, Virgil was wearing a thin grey hoodie. He didn’t like it nearly as much, but it was something.
Do you guys reckon that there are callout posts in a real shitty, MRA, gun lovin, misogynistic, corner of Tumblr? (which I’m sure exists though thankfully I haven’t seen much of it, probably mostly keep themselves to 4chan and such) Can you fucking imagine, the absolute worst of both worlds.
Like CALLOUT FOR TUMBLR USER FLUTTERSHY-WITH-AN-AK THEY ARE A FEMINIST SJW CUCK - Apologized to a special snowflake who said they misgendered them - Didn’t laugh at my ‘grab them by the pussy’ joke - Said Trump is going too far AVOID AT ALL COSTS IF YOU ARE A REAL MAN AND DON’T WANT TO CHECK YOUR PRIVILEGE
I’m sorry that I’ve been such a terrible friend. I’ve been away for far too long. I hope that, over time, you will be able to find it in your heart to forgive me.
As a symbol of my deepest sincerest apologies, here is a little wizard. Yes, I drew him months ago. Yes, I’ve posted him elsewhere on the web. But, Tumblr, no other site has such a refined scan of this image. Only a dimly-lit warped and distorted version taken from the tiny lens of a truly inadequate smart phone exists. You, my friend, are the sole possessor of this digital original. This scan among scans. You should feel truly special. Now you know how much you mean to me.
(You are an elf working for the elven king, Thranduil. One day, you tell him how you feel about him, and you are rejected, until Thranduil mysteriously asks you to discuss something with him) (A PART TWO WILL BE COMING SOON!!!)
“I am very sorry,” you said in a clear yet faded voice, your eyes refusing to take inter image of the elven king standing in front of you. You longed for the simple contact your eyes were used to making with his, but waves of shame pulled them back to the floor beneath your feet.
“Tell me, what is it that troubles you?” Thranduil questioned, his voice low with a hint of genuine curiosity. The slight emotion in his voice caressed your worrying mind, lifting your head to face him.
As you watched his body inch closer and his long emerald robes sweep the floor, your mind flooded with memories. You had worked in Thranduil’s endlessly ornate palace for years upon years, yet what caught your attention most was the elven king himself. Working was hard when he was nearby. You failed to focus on cleaning the nearly infinite halls and chambers if his sky blue eyes watched you, and you longed for each slight conversation you shared with the king, whether it was a discussion of what had to be done that day or a quick exchange of good wishes during feasts and festivals. You wished this was easier.
Thranduil said your name in a questioning tone, pulling you out of your thoughts and back into the space you occupied in front of him.
You shuffled your feet beneath you, your brown cloth shoes making a breathy sound on the brown stone floor. “I can no longer work under you, my lord.”
You lifted your eyes enough to see the king raise an eyebrow in surprise. “And why is that?” he asked in a tone that made it seem as if it was a statement.
This was the hard part. You envisioned Thranduil smirking with pensively squinted eyes as you bid him good morning and goodnight each day, at the start and end of your work. You envisioned the way his eyes strayed to you when you were ordered to clean his throne room, directly in front of his powerful figure seated above.
A shiver ran from your feet to your head. “I have grown to love you,” you said softly, hoping in a strange way that he would not hear you.
Thranduil’s eyebrows lowered and his lips shifted into a slight grimace. He stood, silent and serious. After a moment, he shifted on his feet and looked out past the many amber-colored pillars and warm lanterns streaking the room. You watched as the elven king’s eyes fluttered shut. His snowy hair swayed across his shoulders and back with each step that brought him further away from you. You could almost feel his absence weighing down your chest.
“My deepest apologies and regrets, my lord,” you said briskly, trying to pull his gaze back to you. “I know it is completely unprofessional of me to feel such things for-”
“I do not care in the slightest,” Thranduil’s deeply resonant voice filled the room like a spreading flame. “If you are worthy of working in this kingdom, then you will not allow trivial things to stop you from providing your services.”
You felt your stomach drop to the floor as the palace was ablaze with the king’s voice. “Yes,” was all you could say before you turned on your heels, facing the other side of the room, where a hallway would soon take you away from the misery that now seemed to linger in every inch of the room. “Yes, my lord.”
You could hear the whispers the king’s robes made as he turned, but you refused to look at him again as you quickly walked away. Whether he turned towards you or his throne, you did not know.
Remembering that moment was torture. Forgetting it was impossible.
As Thranduil wished, you continued to work as you did before. You were constantly cleaning and doing all that you could to avoid the king. The smiles he once gave you were replaced with short blank glances, and the small conversations you once had with him became nothing at all.
That did not mean you stopped thinking of Thranduil. In fact, although you wished to forget him entirely, he constantly occupied nearly all of your thoughts.
You had almost achieved neglecting the thought of the king one midsummer evening, when you were indirectly asked to report to his chambers by another elf.
Brushing off dust and dirt from your clothes which you acquired with ample chores, you nervously walked down the endless twisting hallways. Filled with worry, your mind sprinted from one hypothesis of why he wanted to see you to the next. Your feet picked up their pace, trying to keep up with your racing mind.
Finally, you reached the door to his bed chambers. You lightly knocked on the wooden door, then instinctively took a step back. With a small creak, the door opened, revealing the king.
His robes bore the exact color of an autumn leaf anticipating its graceful fall from beauty and glory, yet the simplicity of his attire comforted you. Cold icy eyes greeted you.
“You summoned me, my lord?”
“Yes, I did.” Thranduil turned to open the door wider, his platinum hair swaying onto his broad back, not held back by his usual crown of twigs and thorns. He outstretched an arm, motioning for you to enter the room.
Hesitantly, you stepped inside, immediately taking in your surroundings. The walls were a mixture of dark, glossy stone and chocolate-colored wood. At one end of the room sat a desk along with some evenly-placed shelves. At the other end was a bed covered in deep red blankets. You felt heat rush to your face when you realized that these really were his private chambers.
You heard the door click behind you. You turned on your heels to see Thranduil gliding towards you, the flowing motion of his robes making him appear as if he was not walking at all.
“I wanted to discuss something with you,” he said in a tone drenched in a stoic confidence. Thranduil continued to walk towards you, until you could see each detail of his sky-tinted eyes and his worn-yet-youthful face.
You gave him a slight nod of your head, taking in how unbearably close he was.
“I assume you recall when you told me about how you felt-” he began, his voice so close you could feel it reverberating through your body, fueling your racing heart.
“Yes, and once again, I am very sorry. However, I don’t see the need to discuss-” you attempted to guard yourself, spewing out any words you could find at your grasp until he took another dangerous step forward.
“Allow me to finish.” Thranduil lowered his face, dipping it in shadow.
You opened your mouth to protest, but became unable to do so once you felt a warm hand on your shoulder. Fire shot through your upper body and bounced off in every direction. Your face felt unbelievably hot.
Seeing your reaction, Thranduil’s lips curled and his hand slid over your neck and up to your cheek. “What I wanted to tell you was…” The king spread his fingers and gently pushed a strand of hair behind your ear, fingertips grazing your scalp. He held the bottom of the strand between his fingers before releasing it, depriving you of his touch. His lips curled up further, yet his eyes continued to take you in with serious scrutiny. “I share the same feelings.”
for anon!! they are 16 in this!! also it’s been a really long time since ive written so hopefully this isn’t too bad lolldskl lmk
richie tozier was practically filled to the brim with bad ideas. in fact, some of the losers believe that maybe all of richie’s ideas were bad and he was just completely incapable of seeing so because of his presumably horrid judgement of situations.
Summary: Requested by annonymus: ‘hey could you write an imagine with Jon Snow where the reader gets like cold and badass after the death of Jon and when he comes back idk you decide. Btw loveeeee your blog ❤ keep up with the good work 💫
Characters: Jon Snow x Reader
Meanings: (Y/N)= Your name
(Y/L/N)= Your last name
(A/N: Flashbacks will be within the apostrophes ’)
‘I scrunched up the parchment, my hands starting to shake. This couldn’t be happening, he couldn’t be dead. I thanked the man who brought me the message, who quickly scurried away. As soon as he was gone, I collapsed into my chair by the fireplace, bursting into tears. Looking at the message again, I read it out loud, still trying to process it all.
“Lady (Y/N) (Y/L/N), my deepest apologies. I too am in deep sorrow, our Lord Commander Jon Snow has passed away. My deepest condolences. Ser Davos Seaworth.”
I angrily threw the parchment into the fire, crying out in anger. He had left me here all by myself, venturing off to the Wall and now he was dead. It didn’t matter how he died. For some reason, I was furious with him. Now he was really gone, I would never see him again. All of this time spent waiting and now what? What was I supposed to do with my life?’
I stood beside Lady Sansa, looking down into the courtyard. Sansa had never been the same since arriving here, even before she married Ramsay. Although Brienne used to Sansa’s main bodyguard, I too knew how to weild a weapon, now her new protector as well as a handmaid. After Jon had died out on the Wall, I too turned cold and bitter to those around me. The only way it seemed that anyone would leave me alone was if I learnt how to fight, become intimidating. As soon as everyone else heard word of my dead lover, all I received were sympathetic looks. It drove me mad but now they all left me alone, and that’s how I wanted it to be.
However, I tried to forget about Jon. He was dead, I couldn’t let that bring me down. It was making me soft. But there was a huge problem; wherever I went, I would always see him. I knew they were hallucinations, my mind going mad with grief. At first I thought it was sort of wonderful to see him, though it soon became a curse. No matter how hard I tried, he wouldn’t disappear. There were many endless nights where I would drink myself to sleep to try and make him go away.
“(Y/N).” Sansa grabbed my attention.“I must tell you something of great importance.”
I said nothing, waiting for her to continue.
“I am to leave this place soon. However, I must go alone. I need you to stay here, ensure that no one else will be harmed by Ramsay.”
“M'lady, you cannot be serious. What if you can’t get away?”
“I will.” she sighed.“I know that it has been very hard for you recently, but I must do this to get my home back.”
“I do not want you getting hurt. Please, let me come with you, I can protect you!”
She grabbed my shoulders, looking at me head on.“ I need you here. Promise me you’ll look after our people.”
Hesitantly, I agreed.“I promise.”
“The North remembers.”
It had been so long since Sansa had left. Theon Greyjoy had helped her escape, causing Ramsay to go even more mad, if that was possible. As soon as he found out that she was gone, I had been brought in for questioning. Of course he had tortured me. He as a mad man, there was no limit to what he could do. Long cuts and bruises covered my body now, for some reason he had not killed me, not even close. It wouldn’t have mattered to me, but I made a promise to Sansa.
It was obvious that Ramsay was keeping a close eye on me. After getting nothing out of me, he needed to make sure I wasn’t sneaking behind his back. There wasn’t anything to hide, no one has contacted me in so long.
It had been quiet for quite some time in Winterfell. The people living there were scared for their lives. I acted upon my duty, looking after those who needed help. There were families who would go without money or food, I would try to help them without getting on the wrong side of the Boltons. I would go out hunting late at night or during dawn, providing for those in need. That soon had to stop when Ramsay was organising an army, for what I didn’t know. Who was attacking us?
That wasn’t important. The one thing I needed to do was make sure everyone within the walls was ok. Soldiers were everywhere, either trying to recruit more men or escape the battle themselves. Distant cried of the fighting could be heard within in the walls. Everyone was frightened.
“M'lady! M'lady!” I heard a woman scream.
With weapons in hand, I had been sneaking through the houses of the people living here, checking that no one was harmed.
I rushed to her. She was stood by her front door, frantically waving to grab my attention.“It’s ok, it’s ok. Try to calm down, what’s wrong?”
She took a deep breath.“My daughter is a scullery maid in the castle. She was supposed to be home this morning but has not yet returned. I am worried for her, I do not know what to do!” She was crying.
“I’ll go look for her. I am a handmaiden, they know I work there so they won’t question it. Just stay in your home and I’ll bring her back to you.”
I quickened my pace towards the entrance for all the servants, now hiding my weapons beneath my cloak. The servants had to be hiding, it was silent throughout the castle. Trying to remain as silent as possible, I looked in all rooms which servants had access to, seeing if any were hiding. As I went to open one, it was locked and I knew they were in there. Knocking quietly, I called out to them.
“It’s just me, it’s (Y/N)!”
They knew who I was, I could hear the locks being undone and the door opened. There were many people crammed in here, it was only a small room for some of the cleaning supplies. They dragged me in, bolting the door shut again.
“How long have you all been here?” I asked.
The girl who I was looking for stepped forward.“Ever since dawn broke, when they left for the battle.”
“Your mother is worried for you. I told her I would come looking for you.” she looked guilty though it was not her fault.“And what battle? Who are we fighting?”
A man spoke from the back.“The North.”
The North? The North was finally fighting back! Sansa…she must have had something to do with this. A small smile appeared on my face. What if we won? Would we finally be able to live in peace? Could we really defeat the Boltons?
We ended up staying there for hours. I was going to go out and see what was happening until we heard huge roars that didn’t seem human. Everyone crammed in there was either praying, crying, or holding onto one another. I stood in front of the door, ready for whatever was coming our way.
I groaned.“I’ve had enough of this. I’m going out there to see what is happening.”
The others retaliated, not wanting me to risk their hiding spot. I unsheathed my sword, making them stand back; it was an idle threat, I would never harm them. Walking out into the corridor, I checked my surroundings, everything was clear. Sneaking around the corner, I could hear yells of joy but didn’t know which side had won.
“(Y/N)?” I heard my name be said by a very familiar voice.
I sighed. Why was he here? Why were my hallucinations coming back now? I carried on walking, not wanting to be distracted by my mind tricks.
“(Y/N)! Wait!” His voice was so real.
Stopping in my tracks, I turned around to see him. There he was again, my Jon Snow. However, he didn’t look like he usually did in my dreams. Instead of the fresh faced boy who left Winterfell, he looked more like a man, covered in mud and blood from battle.
“Leave me alone. I am tired of you plaguing my mind. You died a long time ago. I can no longer live like this!” I yelled at him, hoping that would make him disappear.
Jon walked closer to me.“I don’t know what you’re talking about. (Y/N), I’m back. I’ve defeated the Boltons.”
Why did he look so different? How could I possibly imagine what he would look like? I stared at him for a little longer before it clicked.
“Jon? Is it actually you?” I whispered, reaching out to touch his face.
He grabbed my hand, smiling.“It is. I’ve come back for you.”
For the first time in a while I laughed, crying with happiness as I threw my arms around him. He spun us around, placing kisses on my neck before setting me down and kissing my lips.
As we pulled apart, I whispered out.“Don’t you ever leave me again.”
Open apology regarding the reference to @noonrema (Twitter) art without her consent.
Recently I posted my drawing of Otabek Altin (Left) which was based on @noonrema art (Right).
The resemblance was obvious BUT I did not in any way trace or edit her art. I had used her art as a reference for Otabek Altin because I thought it was a good theme and her art had inspired me. It did not occur to me at the time that redrawing the same clothes, similar pose and accessories on Otabek would incur the original artist’s displeasure because I did not have any intention to copy her at all. I did draw Otabek from scratch using my style albeit using her art heavily for reference.As it had come to light that I did not sourced her appropriately and for that matter, asked for her permission beforehand, I truly and sincerely apologize for my mistake. I had taken down all of my drawings which were referenced by her art in discussion. As a fellow artist, I should have realized what I did was close to copying and I am ashamed by it. Please understand that I had used her art as a reference because it had left a big impact on me and inspired me to draw as well. It was not done with ill intention or to claim that the idea was mine. Nonetheless, I humbly admit my mistake and will learn from this incident. My deepest apologies to everyone affected by this, especially the artist had this matter given them a bad experience.
Cullen: The last time I was here was the day I left for Templar training. My brother gave me me this. It just happened to be in his pocket, but he said it was for luck. Templars are not supposed to carry such things. Our faith should see us through.
Quiz: I don’t think it worked. You haven’t been all that fortunate.
Cullen:I should have died during the Blight. Or at Kirkwall. Or Haven. Take your pick. And yet, I made it back here.
Oh man. This seems like quite an innocuous thing to say, but I think there’s actually a lot to unpack here. I normally choose the top or middle answers for everything, so I’d never heard Cullen say this before. To understand how devastating this line is (and I actually teared up when he said it) we need to understand Cullen’s history.
So, friends, let’s dive into a biography and character analysis of Cullen Rutherford
(much longer than originally intended; my deepest apologies to mobile users who weren’t looking for a history lesson today)
- under the cut so I don’t hit you with a wall of text. CW for some discussion of torture.