VIKINGS: SOFT CATS.
I promise to restrict myself to one post about VIKINGS a day, and to not pepper you with knowledge that maybe you will wish you didn't have, like, Vikings called homosexual dudes "soft cats!" Also, vikings had maple trees. and shears! It's unclear as yet whether they used said shears to crop their unruly slaves' hair and whether said hair was unexpectedly soft under their fingers.
You guys, paperflower86 is some kind of magical supergenius and made these in-fucking-credible and (OF COURSE) historically accurate manips that are literally one of my top five favorite things that have happened to me in fandom. EVER. I feel like I am having a heart attack made out of rainbows whenever I look at them.
And now because I wrote 10,000 words in 2.5 days and I am running out of adjectives to describe what dudes sound like while yelling in orgasm, because I STILL haven't come up with an appropriately Viking-y word for 'jerking off' and because I bet you're wishing I'd left my writing process shrouded in mystery, here is a bulletin from an alternate universe.
"Fuck you!" Arthur the monk slave said. "I hate you."
"Well, yes," Eames the barbarian Viking said. "I did kidnap and enslave you and kill all your friends, so fair enough."
"You asshole," Arthur said.
"Speaking of that," Eames said, "Now I'm going to fuck you. You should know, I'm pretty good at it; you'll probably like it."
"No I won't!" Arthur said.
"That's fine too," Eames said, holding Arthur tenderly against the bed with one massive hand and nosing against his neck, just below Arthur's collar. "Whatever you want, my little bird."
"Don't call me a bird!" Arthur said, struggling.
"Just keep moving, just like that," Eames said, approvingly.
"I'm going to murder you," Arthur said "I'm going to wait until you're--oh! asleep and then, and then, and then slice your, your nose off--"
"Mm," Eames said. "Do continue."
"I'm--" Arthur gasped. "I'm going to put a hot poker through your eyeball--repeatedly--really, really--hard, again and--again, and then I'll--oh!"
"You know," Eames said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure the monastery was really the best use of your talents."
"Fuck you, you don't know me!" Arthur said.
"Speaking of talents, open your mouth for me, just a little," Eames said.
"So," Arthur said, later, "Do you think I could learn how to kill things?"
"It seems pretty likely," Eames said, contemplating the scratches on his shoulders and chest.
"I'll kill you first," Arthur said, giving him a slit-eyed glare.
"Sounds like fun," Eames said. "Now, did you want to sleep at the foot of the bed, like a good slave, or on the floor?"
"Fuck you," Arthur said. "Shove over and stop hogging all the furs."
You guys, paperflower86 is some kind of magical supergenius and made these in-fucking-credible and (OF COURSE) historically accurate manips that are literally one of my top five favorite things that have happened to me in fandom. EVER. I feel like I am having a heart attack made out of rainbows whenever I look at them.
And now because I wrote 10,000 words in 2.5 days and I am running out of adjectives to describe what dudes sound like while yelling in orgasm, because I STILL haven't come up with an appropriately Viking-y word for 'jerking off' and because I bet you're wishing I'd left my writing process shrouded in mystery, here is a bulletin from an alternate universe.
"Fuck you!" Arthur the monk slave said. "I hate you."
"Well, yes," Eames the barbarian Viking said. "I did kidnap and enslave you and kill all your friends, so fair enough."
"You asshole," Arthur said.
"Speaking of that," Eames said, "Now I'm going to fuck you. You should know, I'm pretty good at it; you'll probably like it."
"No I won't!" Arthur said.
"That's fine too," Eames said, holding Arthur tenderly against the bed with one massive hand and nosing against his neck, just below Arthur's collar. "Whatever you want, my little bird."
"Don't call me a bird!" Arthur said, struggling.
"Just keep moving, just like that," Eames said, approvingly.
"I'm going to murder you," Arthur said "I'm going to wait until you're--oh! asleep and then, and then, and then slice your, your nose off--"
"Mm," Eames said. "Do continue."
"I'm--" Arthur gasped. "I'm going to put a hot poker through your eyeball--repeatedly--really, really--hard, again and--again, and then I'll--oh!"
"You know," Eames said thoughtfully, "I'm not sure the monastery was really the best use of your talents."
"Fuck you, you don't know me!" Arthur said.
"Speaking of talents, open your mouth for me, just a little," Eames said.
"So," Arthur said, later, "Do you think I could learn how to kill things?"
"It seems pretty likely," Eames said, contemplating the scratches on his shoulders and chest.
"I'll kill you first," Arthur said, giving him a slit-eyed glare.
"Sounds like fun," Eames said. "Now, did you want to sleep at the foot of the bed, like a good slave, or on the floor?"
"Fuck you," Arthur said. "Shove over and stop hogging all the furs."