#crooked arrows

[pomblepompkin]

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟒

Michael Hudson in Crooked Arrows 2012

[kevinzhechair]

When 'no one' is looking at the 2fort snipers

[superrouth]

Brandon Routh

[ainadelothwen]

Trying another style of mugs! I got a new stamp set that is a lot cleaner than the old one and I like the big letter/small letter contrast. I also got dozens of crow silkscreen stencils and am pretty pleased with the details.

[activatebutterflyshield]

Doodles of the five major component parts of Lingering, the buried god at the center of a strange story concept I’ve been working at for a good while. Clockwise from top left, there’s:

Bent Spear the Crook-Necked Dragon

Empty Quiver the Four-Winged Bird

Broken Arrow the Floating-Head Griffin

Blunt Sword the Warp-Horned Unicorn

Faded Giant the Tall-Sailed Sea Monster

It’s a total coincidence that all five share names with Untied States nuclear incident terminology. Totally. For sure.

Close ups under the cut

[pisshorny]

LMFAO??? they took my meme and didn’t give any creds like aw man 😞😞 kicking rocks the world needs to know i cooked 😞🔥🔥🔥

[pinkfey]

↠ template by @omgkalyppso

[mysticstarlightduck]

What is the most common trauma you give your characters? The one that most/many of them have. For example abandonment issues, survivor's guilt, something along those lines

Thank you so much for the ask, @an-indecisive-nerd!!!

Sorry for the late response btw - these past two weeks were really tough on me due to the fact I was anemic AND had a really bad flu, but now that I'm 100% back to health I'm ready to catch up with my asks and tags lol

I think a few of the most common traumas my characters face in my books are the following (mostly because I'm a whump enjoyer but also because those things are really plot relevant too):

Familial Loss - Most of my Main Characters have suffered some kind of familial loss in their past. A lot of them don't have their parents and if they have the good one is usually dead and the bad one is hunting them. Examples of this in my stories include: the Millihan siblings from WLITH lost both of their parents at a young age, Savvy Hahn from WLITH lost her half-brother to a brutal kidnapping when she was six, Adahm Ryker from Scrapyard Boys lost his childhood best friend when he was 12, Kaelan Brimcaste from Arrows of Nightfall lost his older brother and only guardian he ever had to an execution, and so on.

Poverty and Oppression- Many if not most of my MCs have suffered poverty in their past. In Grim City Chronicles Willem and his brother are street urchins in a Victorian Era-inspired city, Vince became a common prostitute to pay the bills and his cousin Peggy is a thief, and Ilya is a conman renowned for swindling nobles. Most of the characters from Scrapyard Boys suffered from various forms of poverty plus they live in a cyberpunk dystopian regime that is infamous for its oppresive and murderous tendencies. In Supernova Initiative, before Jack and Cassie Tithus became the richest and most wanted intergalactic thieves in the galaxy, they were just common street urchins in a backwater moon that was swamped by crime of all kinds. Even in WLITH - though NOT to the same extent as the other books, since the MCs in this book do have some stability - the Millihan siblings aren't exactly well off and Dylan often has to have 3 jobs just to pay the bills and settle their grandmother's debts that are still in their name.

Torture and/or Major Injuries: Many, many, many characters in my medieval high fantasy stories (Arrows of Nightfall, Realms of Loss, The Last Wrath, Crooked Fable, etc) AND in my science fiction stories (Scrapyard Boys, Plague of Tomorrow, Supernova Initiative) at one point or another of the story undergo some form of torture or continuous injury at the hands of their enemies.

Abandonment Issues & Betrayal - Though not as prevalent as the other traumas above, a lot of the cast from many of my WIPs has some form of abandonment issues. Erin Niemand from WLITH has very much unresolved abandonment issues due to her mother blatantly walking out on the family after cheating on Erin's dad. Adrien Rosetrom from Scrapyard Boys was literally kicked out from home and abandoned by his grandparents when he was 15. Victor Moreau in Grim City Chronicles was betrayed and shunned by his best friends when he was turned into a vampire at the age of 20, and lost his son to a monster hunter his so-called 'friends' sent after them a few years later.

Sexual Harassment: To a lesser extent (this time probably as some form of catharsis for my inner child 😭lol, but I'm fine btw) but still there, a few, specific characters in my WIPs have suffered some form of harassment or even, unfortunately, assault. Dylan Millihan in WLITH is stalked by a 50-year-old cougar (Mrs. Adelaide Draycott) who is disturbingly enamoured with him and wants to get the 23-year-old to fall in love with her or at least sleep with her at all costs, which she luckily fails at everytime but is still harassment. Adrien Rosetrom (Scrapyard Boys) has been catcalled, received inappropriate touches/groping or even snide comments from multiple men in clubs throughout the years due his job as a stripper - and the same applies to Vince in Grim City Chronicles but to a worse extent. (Also in Scrapyard Boys) It is implied Adahm Ryker suffered some form of assault by Dr. Gladys from the PHANTOM Labs when he was a teen, though any details are unclear. In the same WIP Karima Sallow offhandedly mentions that Caroline Tarych and her husband James both had a grooming-like attitude towards her before the Tarychs massacred House Sallow.

[fulltimeviking]

I like 'how will you have me' as a track title but I also really don't want to see that scene this season

[anokha-swad]

Mystic palm, gem and tarot 

A few escape your magic arrow 

I saw you reel them in for miles 

Each captivated crooked smile 

And you know you can heal them all 

[elvenderelict]

l i n k s

Carrd Verses Playlist Pinterest

t a g s

In Character Closed Threads Open Starters Greetings Inbox Starter Calls Ask Memes Motifs Character Studies Rec (+ Self Promo) Mun Inbox Polls Out of Character

[pomblepompkin]

𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐀𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦 𝐆𝐈𝐅𝐬 𝐩𝐭 𝟑

Michael Hudson in Crooked Arrows 2012

[kevinzhechair]

Bold of you to assume I can't make 2 sfms in a day

[s0dium]

Warnings: Werewolf!Toji is whipped, humping, breeding, knots

Toji is worried about the fact he cant seem to stop fucking, no, breeding you, even when he's not in heat.

At first, he had never thought his constant need to be near you was a problem—he had claimed you long ago, after all. But lately, it felt different, more like an obsession that consumed him the moment he stepped through your door. The second your sweet scent hit him, lemony and mouth-watering, Toji's is already down for the count.

His pupils dilate, wolf ears twitch, his dick strains against his waistband, and his fangs unsheathed in primal response. Before he can even think, he is by your side, his larger muscular body pressed close as you stand at the stove. He rubs himself against your ass, grinding his hardening dick on your butt, desperate, like a puppy in heat.

"Y/n..." He will whine into your ear from behind, burying his nose into the crook of your neck and breathing in your scent. Fuck, he can feel pre-cum dribbling from his tip just inhaling you.

"Baby?" You coo, turning to face him so you can cup his stupidly handsome face in your small hands. Dark eyes stare back at you, wide and droopy, eyebrows furrowed in a plea. How funny is it that a man, a wolf man, as big, tall, and scary as him was now pawing at your sweater and whining like a lost dog?

"Please im so..." He breathes out, biting his lip to stop his fingernails from sharpening into claws. If he had a tail in his human form, it would be wagging wildly right now.

You giggle, running your hands through his silky dark hair.

"You're so pathetic" you whisper, delivering a kiss to his jugular that makes Toji whine.

"I'm so pathetic..." he hums tilting is chin up so you can nibble at his skin.

From there he is a victim of his instincts.

There is no warning when he completely bottoms out inside of you, walls throbbing as he seems to get bigger with every inch slipping into your quivering hole. He moans at how warm you are, it's nothing like his fist or that stupid fleshlight you got him for when your away.

“S-shit baby so warm n'tight" he groans and presses his own messy kisses into your squealing mouth. His pelvic bone rubs on your clit as he jackhammers into you, the base of his cock swelling and stretching your gummy walls wide.

"Love you, love you so much, wanna make you a mom, give you my babies~” He’s babbling now, lips hungrily sucking your nipples like milk was going to come out. The sheer collision of his tip against your cervix as he slammed into you was making your brain go numb. Just when you don't think you can cum again, he rips another one out of you and god does it feel amazing. It's like your flying in euphoria as thousands of flesh arrows send pleasure across your body.

Tojis soft ears suddenly twitch and peak up to a point his eyes screw themselves close. "F-fuck, m’gonna cum inside.” he cuts off with a groan of his own, shooting thick white ropes of his cum into your swollen n wanting womb. He kept cumming inside of you, strings and strings of hot cum filling you up as he held you in his arms. It made your body shake, his load weighing at your stomach like it was forming a bulge with how much there was.

“Your gonna make such a good mom baby” his ears twitch at his own words, mind going foggy at the thought of you round and swollen with his children.

[pathologicalreid]

in an arrow heart | s.r.

in which Spencer finds himself distracted by you during an otherwise routine outing to O'Keefe's

margotober masterlist

who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: smut (18+ mdni) content warnings: fingering, public-ish intimacy, they're in a locked bathroom, in a bar but doesn't mention alcohol, praise kink, softdom!spencer, oral fixation, teasing, lowkey pwp word count: 1.7k a/n: short and simple and just what the doctor ordered. i'm prescribing a spencer reid fingering fic.

The small circles that Spencer’s thumb rubs on your thigh are making your head go fuzzy. It’s the same sensation that you think you’d have if your head was being filled with helium, your head feels light and airy. His hand is splayed out on your thigh while your body is tucked in the corner of the booth, a wall on your other side, there’s no one to see your torture.

Chewing on the inside of your lip, your boyfriend watches Morgan as he tells the story of how exactly he managed to strike out at the bar. Spencer isn’t even looking at you as his hand moves, periodically squeezing your thigh.

You shift in the booth, lifting your thighs from the leather seat, ignoring the way your bare skin sticks as you try to pull the skirt of your dress down. “Are you okay?” Emily asks from across to booth, raising a defined brow at you curiously, “You look flushed.”

“Oh,” you respond, your face warming even more, “Do I?” You hum, giving Spencer a pointed look before answering Emily’s question, “I’m fine. It’s warm in here.”

Emily frowns in response, but JJ nods in agreement next to her, so she seemingly drops the line of questioning. The silence enables Spencer to lift your dress and place his palm back on your inner thigh, the warmth of his skin searing your own. This time, he spares a look down at you, and you nod softly in response.

If you wanted him to stop, all you had to do was let him know.

Spencer doesn’t move his hand any further up than your mid-thigh, the fabric of your dress half covering his hand as he continues to tease.

It’s not until you have to cover up a whimper with a cough that you try to excuse yourself to the bathroom, having Spencer get out of the booth seat so that you can walk to the back of the bar, turning the corner into the restroom.

You’re not sure what your plan is now, shaking out your hands with nervous energy as you pace around the dark blue-tiled bathroom. You yelp when the door swings open, covering your chest with your hand as if it could slow the pounding of your heart as Spencer sneaks into the bathroom.

He locks the door behind him before cupping your chin with his hands and bringing your lips to his, the kisses are almost heart-wrenchingly soft until they ease into the world of desperation.

It appears as though a week and a half away from you was more than Spencer could handle, the way he gently pushes you toward the wall makes it that much more obvious as you sling your arms around his shoulders and kiss him back. Interrupted only by you shrieking when one of you sets off the automatic hand dryer.

Your surprise morphs into laughter when you realize what the noise is, giggling up at Spencer, you ruffle his hair affectionately, “Hi.”

“Hey,” he says, dropping another kiss to your lips.

Letting your hands drop to your sides, you hum into the kiss, “What did the team think about you following me into the bathroom?”

Spencer shrugs in response, pressing soft kisses along your jawline, “Emily’s convinced you were going in here to throw up, she’s the one who insisted I go.”

You gasp slightly when his hand moves up to your breast, “Do I look like I’m going to throw up?”

“You look beautiful,” Spencer says, skimming his palms down the soft cotton of your sundress, lifting the fabric, and letting it flutter back down to your thigh. “I missed you,” he murmurs, resting his hand on the crook of your shoulder and kissing you, soft, open-mouthed kisses that function solely to leave you wanting more as his other hand ghosts over your body.

You sigh contently against his mouth, a gentle moan escaping your lips when he slips his tongue into your mouth, swiping it along your lower lip. “I missed you,” you repeat in kind, “Ten days is too long.”

It was a non-complaint, really, something you’d bemoan over while his mouth was pressed against yours, but nothing you’d ever hold against him. Besides, time apart just made the reunion that much better.

“Spence,” you whisper, knowing he’s waiting for you, waiting for you to cue him into what you want. “Will you touch me?”

He smiles against your lips, nodding softly as his hand lifts the skirt of your dress, his fingers tentatively hovering over your panties. “What made you so needy?”

You roll your eyes, peering up at him through your mascara-covered eyelashes, “Asshole,” you breathe, your chest deflating when he cups your cloth-covered core.

“Ah,” he says, “Strong words from someone who wants something from me,” he says, his eyes flashing deviously at you, gold shimmering under the warm light of the bar bathroom.

He increases the pressure of his hand and you moan in response, but you try to cover it up with speaking up, “I have fingers of my own,” you retort.

Pulling his hand back, you try not to pout at the loss while he smirks at you, “It’s not the same and you know it.”

Unfortunately, he was right, but you could use that to your advantage, raising your eyebrows, you hum curiously, “Why don’t you show me then?”

If there was one thing Spencer could never turn down, it’s a challenge, so it doesn’t come as a surprise when his hand slips beneath the waistband of your panties and swipes a finger through your folds, his other hand coming up to push your shoulder to the wall so that your legs don’t have a chance to give out from under you. “I can tell you missed me,” he whispers gently, his tone almost a coo in your ear as you nod helplessly. “All this from just one touch of the thigh,” he continues, spreading your slick over your cunt with his fingers.

A soft whimper escapes your lips when Spencer’s index finger firmly presses to your clit, the gentle pressure bringing that airy feeling back to your head. One touch might’ve been an understatement, but you’re in no position to correct him. “Spence,” you sigh his name.

“I love it when you say my name like that,” he says, rewarding your speech by slipping a finger gently into your throbbing pussy. The digit slowly swirls around your wet hole before withdrawing and moving back in with a second finger.

The stretch of your cunt makes your breath hitch, your head dropping to Spencer’s shoulder so you can use the fabric of his dress shirt to muffle your moans. The tile in the bathroom only bounces the strained noises from you and the wet squelching caused by Spencer’s fingers fucking into you.

As his middle and ring finger continue thrusting, Spencer cranes his neck so that he can press gentle kisses to the side of your neck. He nudges your head up so that he can use his spare hand to pull down the front of your dress, flipping over the cups of your bra so that he can massage your breast.

Your head spins while you feel him everywhere, “Oh, shit,” you gasp when he pushes his thumb against your clit, the bundle of nerves nearly buzzing with a pressure that you desperately needed to release.

Spencer hums, “My pretty girl,” the vibrations of his lips against your skin made your walls clench around his fingers. He was gently sucking at your chest, leaving little hickeys across the otherwise unmarred skin.

His thumb swipes over your clit, the movements perfectly timed with the thrusts of his hand.

“So good,” he praises you softly, “Letting me play with you in the bathroom, baby. You’re so fucking pretty when you need me,” he says, unrelenting in his ministrations.

A low whine comes from your throat, and you nod, “Ah, Spence,” you whimper, tilting your head back as you gasp for air, the dizzy feeling in your head coming crashing down as you cum. His free hand covers your mouth, muffling your moans so that you don’t alert any passersby to what is happening in the bathroom.

Your legs shake beneath you as Spencer holds you up, his hand slowly withdrawing from your panties, and you respond exactly how he wants you to when he holds his fingers in front of your mouth, enveloping his third and fourth finger within your lips and gently sucking your own slick from his digits. He gingerly presses a kiss to your forehead before taking his hand back.

He crouches down to the floor, gently tugging at your underwear and sliding them down your legs, you step out of them, your face hot as you watch him fold the damp fabric and slip them in his back pocket.

Softly, he cups both of your cheeks with his hands, skimming the pads of his thumbs over the high points, “Are you alright?”

Taking your lip between your teeth, you nod a little dazedly, “I’m not feeling well,” you murmur, a sly smile growing on your face, “I think it’s time for us to head home.”

He washes his hands, muttering something about the efficiency of hand dryers before he opens the door to the bathroom, gesturing for you to walk out in front of him. His hand on your back guides you to the table.

“Hey,” JJ frowns, “Are you feeling alright? You look a little green,” she observes, watching Spencer as he gathers your things.

Shaking your head, you shrug, “Might’ve been something I ate, we’re gonna call it a night,” you explain to the rest of the group, not even evoking a suspicious look from them.

Emily nods in what she probably thinks is absolute understanding, “Let us know how you’re feeling in the morning. Garcia was talking about going to a farmers market.”

You glance over at Spencer, wondering if he already has plans for you tonight, but you nod anyway. Waving goodbye to everyone before your boyfriend nearly drags you out of the bar, ready to get home.

[spxllcxstxr]

Northern Attitude (I) • C.S

(Gif not mine)

Request: hey!! can i request something where you’re a targaryen and you’ve been sent to speak with cregan like jacaerys did on the show, but you’re quite soft spoken and feel lowkey intimidated by all these big burly northmen. and ofc some flirting with cregan and he makes you feel safe :) -- @sarahisslytherin

Summary: In the process of assuring Winterfell’s loyalty to your mother, you get close to Lord Stark

Warnings: fem!reader, you’re the daughter of Rhaenyra but I don’t specify the father so it can be more inclusive (older than jace), alcohol and eating mentions

Word Count: 1.3k

A.N: This wasn't going to be this long and then I got so into it. I'm actually really happy with how this turned out! Not just because it's actually over 1k words, but also because i really really like it! And I hope you guys enjoy it too!!

Part I | Read the last part here!

•

The bitter cold of the North nips at your extremities even when housed inside the walls of Winterfell. This was a cold you felt right down to the bone, despite the furs your host had provided you with only hours prior when you arrived.

Since your arrival, you have occupied yourself in your chambers, flitting between the books on the shelves and the small hearth on the other side of the decent sized room.

It is not until late your host makes an appearance; matters from the Wall taking priority over the Queen's daughter. You held no ill will, knowing how important the Wall was for the Northmen closest to it.

The greeting outside of your chamber door goes smoothly; since birth you had to greet numerous Lords and Ladies, this one being no different. His charming looks, though stoic, catch you off guard. You take his offered arm before he guides you to the welcome feast.

Cregan leads you through the dark stone corridors of Winterfell, your arms intertwined as you hold onto the crook of his elbow. You feel his strong muscle through his many layers of thick fabric. Your footsteps echo along with the metallic rattling of your guards behind the two of you. The absence of conversation is comfortable, however, something you truly have not felt since the death of your Grandsire.

Beside you, Cregan practically radiates warmth which has you almost melting into his side. Despite the chill, his hands are uncovered, the palm of his hand rests on your arm, heating your covered skin beneath.

The sight of the rugged wooden doors causes you to stiffen almost immediately. The reality of your purpose for being at Winterfell cools your blood as it finally washes over you. You were here on behalf of your mother, the rightful heir to the Iron Throne. Swallowing uneasily, you attempt to calm your nerves.

Sensing your distress, Cregan leans closer to your frame. "Do not fret, Princess," He mutters kindly. "You have no one to convince except me—and I am already highly inclined to agree to your terms."

You do not spare your host a glance as your face burns. In front of you, the grand doors open, revealing a large hall and guests already rising for the two of you.

Your gaze glides over the bowing figures, all men, you notice. The only women in the hall were serving girls; stiffly standing at the ends of the room, pitchers full of presumably ale clutched in their hands.

Attempting to muster up a commanding presence was difficult when next to the Lord of Winterfell, for he commands the room with no effort. His men watch you as you continue to the other side. Their intense stares and built bodies making you nervous. Swords were strewn recklessly across their dining tables, bows and arrows litter the floor. In their eyes you were a defenseless babe crawling into a den of wolves.

The men in King’s Landing and Dragonstone were dangerous in a different way. Their sharp wit and web of lies could cut deep and kill. The men of the North, however, used their brute force and self-assured bravery to kill you just as dreadfully. Any one of these men could bloody you as you walk by them. This rattles you just as much as the plotting traitors back in King’s Landing does.

Taking a deep breath, you feel the soothing motions of Cregan's thumb tracing circles against your arm. The reassurance pulls you out of your spiral of thoughts. With your chin held high you continue to the front of the hall, the long wooden table already covered with food and goblets of wine and ale.

After a few words from both you and Cregan the feast begins and the once silent hall becomes almost deafening. There were plenty of jeers and jokes thrown around at your expense. If you had more fire in your blood like the rest of your family, you might have said something to stay their tongues.

You and Cregan make small talk, the two of you paying more attention to the plates on the table. By the time your appetite is sated the Lord of Winterfell had noticed your meek demeanor and timid glances at the drunk Northmen below.

"Pay them no mind, Princess," The warm light of the hall's hearth dance in Cregan's striking grey eyes. "These rowdy bastards lack decency after a drop of ale."

You scan Winterfell's great hall from your position at the high table. Cregan Stark's men were all in various states of disarray, though you suppose it’s only characteristic of Northerners. The room was loud, almost overwhelmingly so, with booming laughter and arguments that spanned across the tables.

"Not like Dragonstone, I presume?" At Cregan's soft yet baritone voice, heat creeps up your neck.

Your gaze turns to the Lord of Winterfell, a smile gracing his usually stoic face. "Not at all, my Lord. Dragonstone is more.."

"Boring?"

"Traditional," You finish, smile mirroring his own.

Cregan snorts. "Aye, you Southerners have quite the stick up the arse."

"Oh really now?" You lightly giggle, tilting your head as if to challenge the Northerner at your side. You drink from your goblet, the red wine sweet on your lips, eyebrows raised.

"Aye, Princess. I think you need a Northerner to invigorate your life down there."

You hum in response, the wine making your skin tingle. With your attention now solely on Cregan Stark, you feel yourself melting into comfort.

Cregan briefly pauses, looking into your eyes. They mirror an oncoming winter storm and you’re unable to look away.

“I have something to attend to, Princess. My men will escort you and your guards to your quarters.” He takes your hand in his, the delicate grip of such a strong man making you bite your bottom lip. “I will try to see you before the night ends.” With that, his lips meet your knuckles in a soft kiss.

Cregan heaves himself out of his seat, throwing you one last smirk before leaving you in the hall with your guards and the remaining feasting men.

With one last sip from your goblet, you allow yourself to be escorted to your chambers, tugging your fur cloak tighter around you.

The crescent moon is shining through your window when you hear three knocks on you door. Assuming that this late night visitor could only be Lord Stark, you rise from the bed, adorning the fur cloak your host had provided you earlier in the day.

The door creaks as you open it tentatively. Cregan stands at the threshold, wearing the same attire from the feast. You take note of the hint of pink on his cheeks and the red hue of the tips of his ears peeking out of his shoulder length brown hair. Whether this was a result of the North's bitter chill or something else, you do not know.

"Princess." He bows his head as he greets you.

"Lord Stark..." You breathe out, smiling at the man in front of you. "Is this visit based on the business of the Crown?"

"No, Princess, I just..." His low tone tapers off as he lifts his hand up in order to stroke you face. His fingertips feel warm against your skin. You wait with bated breath for his next move. Slowly, his fingertips trace down your delicate skin to hold your chin between his index and his thumb. He tilts your head up slightly. His stormy grey eyes never leave your own. "I just wanted to gaze upon your beauty once more before I fall asleep."

The maneuver has you practically trembling under your heavy furs. You wet your lips, his eyes only quickly following the movement before once again settling back on your eyes.

"I am happy to indulge in your desires...my Lord." You whisper, voice almost quivering.

"Sleep well, Princess," With that, Cregan removes his touch, though his warmth still lingers across your face. He bows once more before turning and walking down the stone corridor.

Slowly you close your chamber door, smiling lips pursed.

"Mother will be pleased." You sigh before sitting once more on your bed, thoughts of Cregan Stark dancing through your head.

•