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07 January 2012 @ 05:58 pm
the white walkers fication!  

welcome to the white walkers ficathon! so i've to go back to uni on monday and it's gonna suck so hard, so WHY NOT CELEBRATE THE LAST WEEKEND OF FREEDOM WITH OUR GLORIOUS AU!

rules are simple!

1.) all characters/pairings should be from the whiter walkers universe - there's plenty of 'regular' ASOIAF ficathons to participate in!
2.) leave a character or a pairing in the comments below, along with an accompanying prompt! eg. 'theon/robb heart's a mess or even more specific ones, such as 'edmure/dany first encounter'
3.) kink and porn is always welcome, just be sure to mark it with NSFW
4.) i know a lot of you are graphic makers/artists so if you'd rather make a graphic or draw something, go right ahead!
5.) be nice! we're all here for the fun!

Current Mood: amusedamused
userfriendly_x: anne ((the world is not enough))userfriendly_x on January 13th, 2012 03:14 am (UTC)
the flower of carnage
leah rebecca: Theon Greyjoybloodofpyke on January 15th, 2012 06:51 am (UTC)
(this is wildly non-canon and also somehow still about theon/robb) (i apologize)

He was sick of it all, so he left. Simple as that. Trudging through the streets of London, a rifle strapped to his back, a bottle strapped to his hand, Theon didn’t feel free exactly, but he didn’t feel trapped either; he felt free.

He wasn’t though, not really, even he knew it, deep down. Thoughts of Robb flashed through his mind whenever he closed his eyes, Asha’s words still rang in his ears. He was beginning to think that he could never really escape this life, that the walkers had taken more than they knew from him.

Theon turned the corner, swaying slightly, feeling unbalanced as he lifted the bottle to his mouth. Only a trickle remained and he slammed the bottle to the ground, wanting to destroy something, to smash and break his way through the world. “Fuck,” he spat out, stepping over the broken glass. “I really needed a damn drink.”

Concentrating on the ground, on putting one foot in front of the other, he almost didn’t see the walkers until it was too late. They were close, too close, all rotten flesh and spitting eyes, their hands reaching for him, their mouths already open in anticipation. They closed a circle around him, the rattling breathing of the walkers matching his heartbeat. “Fuck,” Theon said again.

He couldn’t reach his rifle, couldn’t believe he had been so naive as to only bring one gun, when all of a sudden, rounds were firing off. One by one, the walkers dropped, dead again--for now. Theon looked around, hardly believing in his luck, when a figure dropped lightly from the top of a van.

“We’ll need to burn the bodies,” his saviour said, looking at him, the sun shining behind them.

Rustic curly hair and flashing dark eyes. “Robb?” Theon croaked out, squinting in the sunlight.

“Robb?” They said, walking towards him, head tipped to the side, shaking out their hair. Long hair. Decidedly not Robb. “The Stark boy?” She--for it was a girl, Theon’s saviour--reached him, holding out a hand to help him up amidst the bodies. “I’m Margaery. Tyrell. And you are?”
hotpiexoxohotpiexoxo on January 15th, 2012 06:54 am (UTC)
aheahtahhehaheh YESSSS GOOOOOOOOD

throbb has infected the mind and is everywhere no matter what but yes goooood
I like you first and second and third.miawkitten on January 15th, 2012 08:26 pm (UTC)

He’s running for his life, ahead of everyone else, breath coming out in puffs of white smoke, a stitch in his chest making it difficult to move. He can hear footsteps behind and that’s what reassures him that he’s not alone because he doesn’t have the strength to look back now. A voice behind him yells suddenly ‘Over here!’ and he follows it blindly, hands awkwardly unlatching a door still on its hinges, pushing it back when they’re inside and leaning against it, panting. Only then does he realise what’s missing.

“Where’s - Robb?” His words come out strangled and he can’t help the slight tremble in it.

“Went - the other way,” Margaery manages to say, hands clutching her throat as she tries to catch her breath. “He’s - fine. Don’t - worry.” He nods and falls back again, his clothes making a squelching sound; disgusted, he peels of his t-shirt and throws it to the ground. It had been another colour once but now it was too stained with blood to tell. A shirt with ripped sleeves falls beside it and he raises an eyebrow at the girl now standing half-naked beside him. For a moment there’s silence; then he’s pushing her against the wall and her fingers are tangled in his hair, mouths pressed viciously together.

He pulls back when she bites him - feisty this one, she draws blood and smiles at his reaction - but he’s in no mood tricks. Their hands fumble at belt buckles and buttons and their jeans join the heap of clothing on the dirty floor. Her knickers barely reach her ankles before he picks her up and balances her on the marble counter (in a shop, they must be in a shop). His fingers drop to her clit and he relishes her gasp as he strokes, keen on getting revenge for his bloody lip. Index and middle finger slip inside - she’s already so wet, he thinks a little vainly - and she arches her back, her knuckles turning white. He’s not about to let her have all the fun though - his fingers slip out and there’s a moan coming from Margaery’s throat. “Fuck you, Greyjoy.”

“I intend to,” he murmurs, pulling her closer as his cock thrusts inside her. They cling to each other - sweaty, reeking of blood, pulse matching - as they fall into a rhythm and she bites him again, nails clawing at his back. It excites him and he pushes harder, both of them groaning now. He smiles with a little more than satisfaction as she gasps again, her back arching away from him and the tension building in his body is suddenly too much. He comes with a shudder and gives himself a moment, leaning his head on Margaery’s pale stomach as she lies back.

They’re on the floor sharing a flask when Robb finally finds them, hair disheveled, clothes sprayed with even more blood than before. He looks at them incredulously, eyes taking in their slightly ruffled state of dress. “Was this really the time?” There’s an edge to his voice, Theon realises with a grin. He opens his mouth to answer but Margaery gets there before him.

“I’m more than willing to share, Stark. No need to sound so jealous.”

Theon doesn’t miss the blush on Robb’s cheeks.
hear me roarmagisterequitum on January 15th, 2012 08:36 pm (UTC)
userfriendly_x: anne ((the world is not enough))userfriendly_x on January 15th, 2012 08:36 pm (UTC)

oximore: Nimuehoximore on March 22nd, 2012 06:10 pm (UTC)
omg I'm shipping it so hard
(now margaery/theon/robb is my OTP3 haha)
this was brilliant