#sorry i am unable to be concise

[local-badass]

hey lol was just skimming the notes on swimz’s “what do you call this” post and noticed that in your tags you mentioned that your family kind of twists the pronunciations of italian words (as a facet of being nj italian). was curious then how you pronounce “sfogliatelle” because speaking as someone who works at a bakery that sells them. ive heard so many different pronunciations

my nj italian voice is not the one on tv, and is more the white suburbanites who still make sunday sauce without a recipe. however pennylvania and virginia people have informed me you can hear it.

here is a list of italian things I say bad:

sfvee uh tell / sfvee uh dell = sfogliatelle

stroo fuh luh / stroo foo luh = struffoli

zepp oh la = zeppole (to be fair this is just that I say the singular instead of the plural like people saying "fish" over "fishes.")

tatos = totos/tetus which are apparently also meatball cookies

rih-got = ricotta

pro shoot / pro zhoot = prosciutto

min eh strohn = minestrone

pasta fazhool = pasta fagioli

cappa cohl / capp ih cola / cappy = capicola (I only say gabagoul ironically)

m uhtz a rell = mozzarella

ny oh key = gnocchi

bru shette ah (sometimes dropping the "ah")= bruschetta

pin yoh lee = pignoli

I am super aware most of those are incorrect in my time learning actual italian, but has just kind of stuck. I get the gist that's true for a bunch of people in my town and surrounding areas bc other people say it that way too. I also think this is regional bc when I finally met my dad's (staten island and brooklyn italian) family, they say it similar but different. i worked in an italian skewing deli / sandwich place and

it may be important to note I am slightly hearing impaired and also said "gannoli" for cannoli until I was both old enough to read and tall enough to read the sign.

[teleportationmagic]

Continuation of this post about reverse Batgirl ft. Babara.

Cassandra's the first one to run into Babs.

It's been a few years - they've gone through a few more Robins. Bruce picked Jason up off the street, Tim dropped Robin for a second, Jason took it up. Jason died. Tim picked it back up again. There was a memorial to a dead boy in the Batcave, before he came back. Hoodie was on the streets again, no matter how much Bruce resents it.

The way she runs into her is... unorganized. She's launched by a creature straight into the side of a townhouse and flips so that her legs frame the redheaded teenager instead of making contact, before launching herself back into the fight and wrestling the thing to the ground. She leaves it tied up, and intends to make a quick visual check before moving on to the other three creatures that are rampaging through Gotham (Joker did a Thing) (Don't ask) when Barbara sticks out her neck and tells her to stop. Asks if she has a plan - asks if she knows where they are.

That is a negative. The situation is quickly evolving, and its all hands on deck. Barbara offers to help - she'll moniter Twitter and TikTok, see if she can give Cassandra any information that'll be useful. She even has access to the police networks - she can really help her out!

Bruce, through Cassandra's ear, is very much against this. But Barbara will stay in her home (which, while uninsulated (anymore), is not actually unsafe) (well, any more unsafe than the rest of Gotham) so she gives her a comm (That's not why I gave you extras, Batgirl!) (You said if I lose them. Lost one.) and heads out to fight giants. Barbara guides her through the city, taking her from stop to stop - she doesn't just keep social media open, but instead she surfs through city plans and sewer routes. Cassandra follows her directions - sweeping up and down Gotham. Barbara knows, by the end of it, that her contributions helped. Significantly.

She asks if she can stay on full time. Not as a vigilante, no, but just as a helper, someone to collate all the information they needed, to point Batgirl in the right direction.

Cass is hesitant. Bruce is hesitant. Steph wants to meet her first, but is also hesitant.

It doesn't help that, during their next mission, it turns out that Barbara had patched herself into their comms network through the one they gave her. She's picked up a codename in the meantime - Oracle.

It's Duke who ultimately argues her in. It's clear she won't stop - hell, which one of them actually stopped when they were told? And while Steph has complicated feelings about this, but she can't quite argue that he's wrong. (Jason also has complicated feelings about this! But he outwardly, he comes down hard on Let Her In, Actually) (Tim and Damian are on side I-haven't-met-her-yet)

Moreover, he continues, she's not actually in danger physically. In terms of new vigilantes, she's relatively safe, all things considered.

So Oracle is pulled into the fold. A lot of her work in the beginning is done out of her laptop, but as time passes (and she gets better and better at what she's doing) it evolves into more complicated stuff - actual hacking and archival stuff.

Cassandra, on the other hand, is growing up. She's been Batgirl for eight years, now. Damian and Duke change their suits, but Cassandra just adjusts hers for height. And now she is a mentor, to a girl older than when she picked this suit up.

"Maybe." Steph reflects. "Your just getting old. In general. Midlife crisis time."

"Older." She replies, tapping her on the shoulder. "Anciiiiiiient."

"Rude, so rude."

Batgirl was important to her, undoubtedly so. But it belonged to Gotham, and to Bludhaven. Cassandra had stayed there for so long, had based herself in those cities. She remembers, being younger. In the year between Cain and Bruce, travelling the world, and helping, where she could. And she helped here, she really did, but. But.

Barbara stays as Cass's main support, but eventually she starts helping out with the Robin contingent. It's Cass who teaches her the fundamentals of self defence - defence being the operative word there. She builds up her skillset so she can run away, instead of the more offensively focused approaches of everyone else. And while Barbara works with Jason, Tim, Damian and Duke, even, occasionally, she's always most used to working with Cass.

(Steph is taking this well! Steph is taking this like an adult, who knows her position in whatever this is is secure! She is not jealous of the proficiency of a teenager! Shut up Damian!)

But the thing is not everyone is Cass. And Barbara makes a bad call - sends Hoodie into a situation he wasn't ready for, and while he made it out alive it was by the skin of his teeth, with a week's worth of rest in the Batcave.

Cass tries to explain to her that it's not the end of the world. That everyone's alright, that people lived. It's a visceral experience, for her - arguing down to a girl who believes unshakingly that this is her fault. That nothing can change that, redeem that. It's Steph, in the end, who can wheel herself into Commissioner Gordon's home and share that same experience - of not knowing. Of miscalculating. Of doing better, next time.

It's to the both of them that Barbara argues that she should be able to do fieldwork. Not forever - she doesn't want forever. But. If she has experience, if she knows what it's like for the rest of them on the ground, maybe this wouldn't have happened. Maybe she can keep herself from making this mistake again.

Cassandra points out that she'd onboarded under certain conditions. Barbara pointed out how much the rest of them risk their lives anyways, how they'd started much younger then she was. Stephanie taps the metal of her chair once. Twice.

She tells her how she lost her legs. That could happen to her too. Think on it.

They give her three days. In the meanwhile, Cassandra thinks as well. About Batgirl. About America. About the League base she'd found when she went to fight her mother, about the dead men left there.

People needed help. Gotham and Bludhaven, they had people and she'd learned the investigative skills she needed to help, on her own. And Barbara needs the legitimacy, the confidence. A mark of her confidence.

She discusses it with Stephanie. Stephanie brings up that Barbara might choose to do the sensible thing, actually, and Cass replies with a single upturned eyebrow.

She doesn't. And Batgirl is passed down again. Cass puts together another costume.

She won't leave. Not just yet, but she knows she will. When she brings it up to Bruce he maps out his own route, when he was new to this, working through Asia and Europe and Africa, picking up mentors and teachers who gave him the skills he needed. Maybe she'll learn something too. Something irreplaceable.

In the meanwhile, it becomes clear pretty soon that Babara's absence from the comms presents its own problems. Stephanie cracks her fingers, and decides to take the task up. Learning is a slow process - she predates the internet just enough for it to be slower, unweildy - but they trade. Old combat experience for tech experience, mixed in with social engineering. Barbara spent years cracking passwords through finding vulnerabilities in the code, whereas Stephanie shows her how to make the right phone call.

(Something else that is becoming clear is that Batman is getting older. He's not been a young man, by the time Cassandra had joined him, and he was getting no younger. There was time for a successor.)

(They just hadn't meant for it to be this soon - )

Bruce dies. Tim goes looking for him, leaving Robin behind, Jason following close. Duke, Damian, and Cassandra gather in the Batcave to decide upon a legacy. (Steph wants to tell them to roll dice for it.) It's not about pride, except in the ways it is - Duke as the most of experienced of them, Damian having known Batman alone and Cass as the one who'd worked under him the longest. There are objective metrics they could use for this, but it's not an objective contest.

"Trade it." Steph suggests, after a half hour of deliberation. "We still need Nightwing and Signal, and whatever Cass wants to take up now. Set up a rotating schedule, until you figure out the best fit."

"It'll be noticeable." Damian hisses, but it's a contemplative hiss.

"He did this alone, didn't he?" Cassandra points at each one of them and he inclines his head. "Yeah, but still. He thought that Batman had to be alone, that it was his to bear."

"It can be ours." Cass says, the simplicity feeling like a bell. Her eyes dart from brother to brother, something like certainty settling in the room. "All of ours."

There is also the matter of the child leaping through Gotham city, trying to avenge his parents. The ache of it brings Damian to his knees. The fifth Robin flies next to Batman, Batgirl on their side.

Robin and Batgirl start the beginning of something, slow and fumbling. That's a first, Stephanie remarks, and there's agreement across the board there.

Dick is Damian's robin, and Duke's, and Cass's. Barbara is Cass's Batgirl, and Steph's and Dick's. Tim and Jason send messages, from time to time - progress reports and stories. Damian has half a conniption when he hears that they're going up against the league.

Barbara partners with a bunch of other Gotham vigilantes - the Birds of Prey. Steph organizes them from her position in the Batcave, running comms and tracking movements. Barbara is by far the youngest of them, but her presence is appreciated, nevertheless. Dinah toys with taking her on as an apprentice.

Bruce comes back. Jason and Tim piece it together, and the pull on him, stumbling back into the present. Batman takes to the skies again - going from three keepers to two.

Then to one. Saying goodbye to Gotham hurts, when Cass leaves - but she leaves with a promise to come back, a kiss on the cheek for Stephanie, a hug for Bruce and Duke.

Barbara gives her a comm as she leaves. Takes a promise that she would keep it, no matter what. And that's a promise Cassandra keeps - voices of Batgirls old and new echoing through it.

[heart-of-the-morningstar]

Alr hear me out, the service top lucifer with a very insecure reading. (Fem or GN) like he has to coax the reader to like open up (God damn I'm blushing thinking abt it-). Maybe even having to like talk them into even taking thier clothes off. Just a little idea stuck in my head.

Thank you very muchly.

Ooooooohh you’re giving me IDEAS (tbh I’d be the same boat)

~~~~

✨Opening Up✨

Lucifer x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, smut, nipple play, pet names, oral (m & f receiving), p in v, service top!Lucifer

It has become evident that I am unable to write anything concise 😅

I’M SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG I MEANT TO POST THIS DAYS AGO 😭😭

Tag list: @trashbin-nie

@yellowsubiesdance

@j-jinxee

@stevensdickrider

@airwolf92

@mrssabinecallas

@myhornybrainonlyknowsthis

@bee-sinner

@thesoccerenthusiast

@katshyperfixations

@logybearsblog

@bigfatbimbo

You sat upright on Lucifer’s king sized bed, the King of Hell straddling your lap. You don't know how you even ended up in this position, not on this bed necessarily, but how you ended up as Lucifer's beloved. You believed in your heart that you did not deserve him, but time and time again Lucifer has showered you with praise and adoration like no one ever had before. He was perfect. And you were...you. It didn't make sense.

Regardless, that didn't stop him from holding your face tenderly in his hands while he kissed you with a fiery passion. You were self conscious about being so vocal around him during intimacy, but he made it his mission to elicit as many moans and whines from you as possible. Slowly, he reached down to the hem of your sleep shirt, grabbing a fistful of fabric. Your eyes popped open, your mind racing. You pulled away from his lips and went to grab his wrist that held your clothing.

"I-I'm sorry, love," he apologized, releasing your shirt immediately. You sighed and let go of the grip you had on his hand. "I didn't mean to scare you, I should have asked. Please forgive me."

"No, no," you breathed, "it's alright. I'm not upset, I just panicked. I'm sorry."

Lucifer pressed his lips to your forehead and planted a small kiss. "Please don't ever think you need to apologize to me for how you feel, sweetheart."

"O-Ok," you stuttered.

"Do you want to stop?," Lucifer asked. You could hear the genuine concern in his voice. Hard as it was to believe, he cared about you more than anything.

You shook your head. "No."

"You're sure?," Lucifer questioned further, "because if you're uncomfortable, we can-"

You cut him of mid-sentence with a quick peck to his lips. He smiled bashfully, a cute blush spreading across his face. "Believe me, Luci, I want this. I mean I really want this, but..." you found it difficult to articulate what you wanted to say.

"Well, if that's the case darling, what if I go first then?," Lucifer proposed. You cocked your head, unsure of what he was talking about. He reached up and began to unbutton his shirt, starting from the top and working his way down. Oh...OH.

Your face instantly feels hotter and your breathing becomes staggered. You tried to say something, but the words caught in your throat. Your mouth had never felt drier. He finally reached the last button of his shirt and you finally see some of his chest. You could almost feel your brain short circuiting.

"Do you wanna do the honors, my dear?," he asked playfully. You gulped as your hands reached towards his shoulders. Gingerly, you slid his sleeves down each arm, slowly revealing more and more skin to you. Once his shirt was completely removed, you couldn’t help but stare. His chest was so smooth and toned, almost like it had been sculpted. “Like what you see?” Lucifer questioned coyly, noticing your unwavering expression of awe.

"W-Well that's hardly fair," you whispered, finally finding your voice, "you're an actual angel. Of course you're going to be gorgeous, I-" you slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized what you had said. "Please pretend you didn't hear that!," you begged through your hand.

Lucifer's face was flushed pink, he could help but smile. He chuckled as he went to remove your hand from your face. "Is that what you really think about me, sweetheart? I'm truly flattered to hear that coming from someone as exquisite as you."

"You...You really think..." you started to say but couldn't finish. Tears began to well up in your eyes, you tried to rub them away before Lucifer could see but it was too late. Lucifer cupped your face and ran his thumbs under your eyes to clear away the tears that had fallen. Your breath hitched, you tried to take in deep heavy breaths so you wouldn't start sobbing.

“Hey, hey, hey, shhhhh,” he spoke with a soothing tone. He removed himself from your lap and sat down next to you, embracing you in his arms. “It’s okay, angel, it’s ok. I upset you and I’m sorry, I never want to be the reason you cry.” He rested his head on top of yours while you clung to his chest. The scent of him hit your nostrils, it was like breathing in a warm spring day. Purely intoxicating. It calmed you down, you started to breathe normally again. You felt safe in his arms, you could have stayed there for the rest of your life.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, your tears finally drying. “Thank you, Lucifer,” you murmured. He gave you a tight squeeze before you lifted yourself back up, sitting at his hip and leaving your head on his shoulder. “You weren’t the reason I was sad, you know? You never have been.”

Lucifer turned his head to you, “Really? Then why-?”

“Because I’m afraid,” you quickly responded. “I’m afraid that I’m not good enough for you. That I never will be. You’re the all mighty Lucifer, King of Hell. You have so much strength and power and respect. And I’m…I’m just me.” You sighed and pulled your legs up to your chest to rest your head on your knees. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-”

“Darling?,” Lucifer spoke at last. He brought himself in front of you on all fours and placed his hand under your chin, forcing you to look at him in his scarlet eyes. “ “Just you” is perfect. You don’t need to be anything but yourself! I understand what you’re feeling, and it’s okay to express that. But please know that I love you just the way you are. You are my true strength.”

You chuckled softly, leaning into his hand that was now pressed against your cheek. You took his words to heart; he loved you. He loved you so much. You had to show him that you felt the same way. You drew in a few quick and deep breaths before reaching for the hem of your sleep shirt.

“Wait, wait, what are you-” Lucifer tried to say, but you were too fast. Your shirt disappeared from your body and was tossed across the room. Silence filled the space, the only thing you could hear was your heart threatening to burst through your chest.

It was at that moment you noticed you couldn’t see Lucifer’s face. His hands had flown up to block his view of you.

“Lucifer?” you called to him.

“Y-You didn’t have to do that, love,” he stuttered. “I never wanted you to feel that you had to-”

“Please look at me, Luci,” you pleaded. “I love you. And I trust you. Let me show you. Please.”

You saw Lucifer’s hands slowly fall away from his hands, his eyes still screwed shut. “Are you sure?” he asked softly.

You leaned in to plant a kiss on his soft lip. Lucifer’s eyes shot open in surprise, you pulled away before he had a chance to react. Blood rushed to your cheeks when you saw him staring at you. Your first instinct was to cover yourself and shy away, but you pushed those feelings deep down. You were going to be vulnerable, you needed to be brave. Not just for him, but for yourself. You gripped the bed sheets so hard that you felt your nails digging into your skin through the silk.

After what seemed like an eternity, Lucifer had snapped out of his trance. He started to crawl towards you on his hands and knees, only stopping when his lips were inches away from your own. You felt his hot breath on you, you were finding it more and more difficult to keep your composure.

“You…are breathtaking,” he cooed, crashing his lips into yours hungrily. His tongue begged for entrance to your mouth, and you happily allowed it. You felt yourself slowly drifting down onto your back as you and Lucifer desperately devoured each other. He pulled away from your lips, trying to catch his breath, but you noticed he wasn’t looking into your eyes. His attention had drifted a little further down. He swallowed hard.

“May I?,” Lucifer asked breathlessly. Your face felt extremely hot and you couldn’t find the power to speak, so instead you nodded your head vigorously. He gave you a cheeky grin before lowering his mouth down onto one of your nipples. The noise you made sounded more high pitched than you meant it, but God, did it feel amazing! His tongue worked one nipple as his hand played with the other. You loved the sensation of him sucking and licking at your sensitive skin, the tiny bites from his teeth driving you insane. He rolled your other nipple between his two fingers, the pinches he gave sent your brain into overdrive. You never knew how sensitive you were, but Lucifer was more than happy to service you.

All of a sudden you noticed a different sensation, you felt something press against your inner thigh, dangerously close to your clothed pussy. It took your brain a few seconds to realize what was happening.

“Uhh, Lucifer, a-are you…”, you mumbled. Lucifer looked up from your chest with a puzzled face. “I can feel umm, I-I can feel your uhh…”, you didn’t know why you couldn’t say it. Maybe you were too embarrassed, which seemed silly considering what position you found yourself in. You pointed down towards your pants where Lucifer was wedged.

“Oh…OH,” Lucifer exclaimed pushing himself from you and onto his knees. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t realize you could uhh, feel that…please forgive me!”

Seeing him so flustered somehow calmed some of the nerves you had before. It was cute, really. Demon overlord Lucifer getting embarrassed about unintentionally pushing his hard on against your thigh. You let out a small giggle.

"It's alright, Luci," you chuckled. "I'm flattered, really!"

Lucifer smiled, placing his hand behind him to rub the back of his neck. "I'm still sorry about that, love. I'm a little embarrassed."

“Well,” you breathed, “I guess it’s only fair that I embarrass myself too then, right?” Without warning, you grabbed the waistband of your pants and ripped them off along with your panties in one fell swoop. You laid naked in front of Lucifer, whose whole face had turned a shade of red you’ve never seen before.

“Ffffuck,” was all Lucifer could muster. You watched his Adam’s apple rise and fall, attempting to regain his thoughts. Looking at you, it was plain to see how soaked you were.

“Like what you see?,” you teased. Lucifer nodded his head eagerly, still at a loss for words. You lifted your hand and curled your finger, beckoning him to you. Obediently, Lucifer crawled on the bed towards you with no reservations. “You’re not the only one that’s worked up here. Now we’re even.”

“My love, please…” Lucifer whined, “please let me taste you.”

"Don't you...wanna get more comfortable first?," you asked him, knowing the problem in his pants had probably only gotten worse for him.

"Not until I've had my fill of you, sweetheart," he smiled before forcing his head between your legs. The moan you let out was guttural, almost feral, he lapped your folds like a starving man. He took long, drawn out licks up your slit before focusing on your clit. His lips kissed and sucked on your sensitive nub, sending waves of pleasure throughout you entire body. You couldn't pull away if you tried, he had wrapped his arms under your legs so you couldn't escape his assault on your cunt.

"Sh-shit, oh-oh my God Lucifer, FUCK," you moaned. You could feel a smile form on his face as this seemed to have made him pick up the pace. You screamed from his tongue darting in and out of you, feeling so close to snapping. Your thighs started to fold in on his head and you grabbed a fistful of his hair trying to regain some assemblance of control. “Fuckfuckfuck, mmmm…gonna c-cum, aaggghh, gonnacumgonnacum!” Lucifer’s tongue relentlessly circling your clit finally caused your body to spasm, your orgasm causing you to scream out in pleasure. Lucifer didn’t stop though, he let you ride out your orgasm and hungrily devoured your release. Once you finally came down from your high, Lucifer lifted his face from between your legs and flashed you a toothy grin, seemingly quite proud of his work.

“You alright, darling?,” he asked innocently, almost pretending like he wasn’t the cause of what you had just experienced.

“Y-yeah, I’m…I’m fine,” you breathed. “Just…Jesus, that was intense! Give me a little warning before you go all in on me like that again!”

Lucifer laughed. “I’m sorry, love, I couldn’t help myself.”

You rolled your eyes at him playfully. “Oh, I’m sure you couldn’t. Now, let’s get these off you, hmm?,” you said tugging at his pants.

Lucifer stood up from the bed quickly. He undid his belt and let his pants drop to the floor. From the outlines of his briefs, you were surprised that they could contain him at all. Before he could pull at the hem, you jumped off the bed to stop him.

“Allow me,” you offered, getting on your knees in front of him. You reached up and grabbed onto his briefs, snaking them down his legs. His cock sprang free of its cage and hung in front of your face, its tip already leaking. Without thinking, your wrapped your lips around the head of his cock. Lucifer let out a moan that you’ve never heard before, filled with absolute lust and need. You took one of your hands and grabbed the base of his shaft, slowly stroking up and down while your mouth continued to work on his head. You ran small licks against the slit, tasting and lapping all of the precum that was forming. You loved the taste of him.

“Love…f-fuck,” Lucifer panted, trying to fight through his moans, “if you don’t s-stop now, I-I’m gonna cum. I wanna…wanna feel you. P-Please…”

Reluctantly, you pulled your mouth away from his cock with a *pop*, pouting slightly. Lucifer leaned down to grab your torso and tossed you onto the bed like you were made of paper mache. That angelic strength of his always caught you off guard. Lucifer crept between your legs, planting a tender kiss on your lips.

“I promise,” he whispered against your lips, “next time you can finish what you started, but right now I need you. Need to feel you.” Lucifer brought his fingers to your needy cunt, feeling the slickness of your folds. Your breath caught in your throat at the sensation. He took his other hand and lined up the tip of his cock to your entrance. “Are you ready, my angel?,” he asked softly.

You grinned and nodded your head. With that, Lucifer closed the space between you once more with a fiery kiss as his cock entered you inch by inch. Your cries mixed with his as he finally entered you completely.

“You feel…amazing, darling, fuck…” Lucifer choked out. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you murmured, “I-I’m okay. You can move.”

“Anything for you,” he smiled. Lucifer slowly began to rock his hips into you, his cock filling you up completely with each thrust. You could feel every inch of him ruining your pussy, hitting just the right spot every time. It didn’t take long for his pace to become erratic and uneven. He buried his cock deep inside you, both of your moans filling the room.

“Lu-Lucifer, o-oh shit, Lucifer, I-I’m so close,” you pleaded. “Please don’t stop, p-please don’t.”

“Cum for me, darling. Wanna feel you cum.” Lucifer groaned. He bit down on your should as he continued to pound into you, biting and sucking your tender skin. You were shaking, he was going too fast, you were coming undone.

“Cuminme…FUCKCUMINME,” you screamed and wrapped your legs around him as your orgasm flooded over you. You felt your walls pulsating around his cock, it was too much for Lucifer to handle. You heard him cry out and felt him twitch inside you, filling you up with his hot cum.

Coming down from your highs, you both laid there for a moment trying to catch your breath. You played with Lucifer’s hair as he laid across your chest, completely worn out. A minute or two passed before Lucifer sat up and pulled himself out of you. He laid down next to you, staring at your flushed face.

“Are you alright?,” he asked. “Did I hurt you at all?”

“No, you didn’t hurt me,” you smiled. “That felt…really good. Thank you, for everything.”

Lucifer hummed and leaned up to press a gentle kiss to your lips. “No, thank you, love.”

You chuckled returning the kiss. “Would…you mind if I held you, Luci?”

Lucifer’s eyes widened, but he smiled wide. “Of course not, I’d love nothing more.”

Lucifer rolled on his side, giving you the chance to push your body against his back and wrap your arms around him. You both didn’t move until the morning.

~~~~

Hope you enjoyed my second attempt at NSFW content lmaooooo

AND YEAH I MADE HIM THE LITTLE SPOON, IT’S WHAT HE WOULD WANT

[in-another-april]

I just saw your sharing clothes with Spence post, and it made me think of spending the first night with him? Like awkward shy Spence early in the relationship wanting you to stay over with him :p

(just sfw cuddles, not smut please!)

i know ive written like 10 sleepy spencer posts but. come on. how can i not?? also im sorry i am physically unable to be concise.

Spencer was so so nervous to have you sleep over for the first time!! But, luckily, his overwhelming desire to be with you outweighs his fear of messing things up. Besides, he warms up as soon as you get there, laughing and talking and watching old movies. He feels silly for thinking he had anything to worry about in the first place.

It gets later and later and you get sleepier and sleepier; he mumbles a shy "you wanna head to bed?" against the top of your head, pressing a kiss or two onto it.

You've never agreed to anything faster.

Getting ready next to you awakens something so sickengly sweetly domestic in him. You’re cramped in his tiny bathroom together, bumping elbows as you try to brush your teeth and giggling every time you catch a glimpse of the other’s silly expression in the mirror. He’d never get tired of seeing you like this, he could stay like this forever.

When you both get into bed, though, his nerves return. He wants to cuddle with you so so badly but he is so awkward. He tenatively reaches out for you in bed, pulling you closer to him.

You happily curl into his arms, humming a little happy sleepy noise as you nuzzle into him. And Oh god, you're actually going to be the death of him. (and he would die a very happy man)

In the morning, he spends a good 10 minutes admiring you and your face before attempting to make you breakfast in bed. It’s a little burnt, and he woke you up with all of the commotion coming from the kitchen, but you still share it with him and cuddle as you eat. And it’s still so lovely and perfect (he’s so lovely and perfect.) And yeah. Forever sounds nice.

masterlist | inbox

taglist - @lover-of-books-and-tea @maskysluvr @aurorsworld @wisteriaspencer @radioactiveinvisible @mandarinmoons @spencereidapologist @lyd14k4y @luvkatryna (send an ask or message to be added/removed!)

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

12 - The Cost of Our Sins

Pairing: Jon Snow x F!Baratheon!Reader (Slow Burn), Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 10.2k

Warnings: Angst/hurt comfort, slow burn, traumatic and disturbing imagery, gore, physical abuse, confinement and restraints, reference/allusions to rape, trauma response, torture, suicidal ideation, past character death

Notes: I am so sorry for..well...pretty much everything, cus the horror show does not end at the last chapter strap in because part 3 starts now. Previous Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here.

Numb is all you felt, a radiating sensation of death that sat through your body still on it’s side. Your eyes could not open, as you felt the pooling of blood in your stomach. The warmth soaked feeling where a son once lay inside you. You had looked into Robb’s eyes as yours faded with him. You had gone together, and now you lay there with the seconds of an awoken mind. Eyes fluttering open was not that of the scene you died, but something worse.

It was fire. Blood and fire all around as you barley could open your eyes long enough to see what your sins had cost you. Was it the Seven, the Old Gods, or the fire god your father had found in that sought to punish you? You lay looking through bars that caged you at the hell before you, it was your punishment for all crimes you had found in. 

The world before this ended you and Robb Stark together and somewhere in this hell your gods decided that you could not reunite until you were given fair just sentence for your sins. Push through this, you thought, let the gods do with you as they wish and they will allow you to return in the veil to him, to him and your son. 

Chanting that in your ears sounded like they were moving underwater, you felt too heavy to lift your head to look. Your body burned and bled still and your muscles could not move but that of your eyes to the blur around you. The chanting grew louder and louder as a group rounded a corner of wherever you were brought too, and it was your husband that they called too. A chanting of King in the North, over and over as you watched his own punishment. The gods were far more cruel then you ever imagined as you watched what they forced you to atone in.

It was Robb, but propped up against something, the black outfit was the very one you recalled your living self, lovingly dressing him in. And the shine in his bright blue eyes as they looked over you with as much love as you had in your heart. But it was soaked in blood as you lay, and not the face of your husband. 

Instead, the sight of The Young Wolf was that as you were The Silent Stag. His head bloodied, but like it had formed into that of a giant direwolf, like he turned into his very companion in Grey Wind as it looked propped on his body. The gods, forcing him to live what he was called and you as your own as you lay in a choking cry unable to find the strength to speak or cry to him through the blood in your mouth. 

His sight was mocked by the demonic creatures you could barley see around him, before the water in your eyes blurred him, before the fading came once more. You accepted the horror that he did not deserve. This was for your sins. 

Let the gods do this, and once more you would wake. In the realms beyond the living, Robb at your side with an arm around you, as you held your son, little Ned. You promised to always be together. 

The gods would punish you, and allow you to be together once more. You and Robb just had to endure this horror, and you would finally be together again. 

That was all you had to do to get back to him. 

Skies were dim as you ventured further into the lands, leaving a drab feeling blanketing over the land that fit the state of mind you lived in. According to the rumblings in the men, you had been in and out of conciseness for almost a fortnight, leaving you to assume that the last of the summer sun had died out and only the dim of autumn remained. Not that you missed the sun, the last time it shined in any way that you could appreciate was so far off you bared not thinking about it. 

Watching the men around you act like normal had made you angry in those first few days you woke up, but now it was all meaningless to try and keep that energy up, you had none left in you really. The small cage off in the distance was your home for a bit, mostly a place you were tossed to wait and see if you would ever wake up, but then once you had? They kept you shoved in there just to keep you from lashing out. 

The first day one of the men had approached you to give you water, only to slide his hand into the bars as your hands were tightly bound. He still wore an ugly dressing over the mark where you bit him, your mouth still stained somewhat with blood from how hard you dug your teeth in. After that, multiple men had to drag you out and hold you down so they could gag you which had stayed on you for the most part, including now. 

But you were too exhausted to fight, your face and skin were constantly flush and hot with sweat as your head grew more fuzzy and dizzy each day. Once it was determined you were indeed alive and not going to bleed out, apparently some kind of infection set in just to make you more pathetic. Currently as camp was made for the night you were granted some freedom. 

The men assigned to watch you noting that you were mostly docile, leaning your head against the iron bars with a distant and dispondant look, to weak to even roll your eyes at their comments. You had been allowed to be let out, and brought to a tree where you now sat tied up against. What a sight you must have been, flush and sweaty, covered in grime to the point it matted in your hair, and still wearing the very dress you had been that night, still soaked in dried blood. 

It was a living nightmare, your dreams flashing in a repeating horror with the strings of music that would forever haunt you, only to awake to the men all finding it in their cold hearts, to sing it outloud. You wondered if they even knew other songs, or if it was just all a sick game to torment you as they dragged you with them. If one more of them sung that Lannister song, you were going to find a way to free your hands just to cut off your own ears. 

Perhaps it was the fever in your head, but you had no sense of what to feel anymore. It was so twisted all wrong, and you had not the heart to find it’s truth in front of all these people. Not them, not after what they’ve done. 

Your eyes flickered up in a painful glare as footsteps approached, and the figure kneeling in front of you raised an eyebrow at your state. “Now, my lady, if I take this off are you going to behave, or will you need a refresher?” His hand pointing to your eye. Right, that must be just adding to your state, likely bruised by this point when he had hit you hard across the face after you kicked away the food he brought you. 

You wanted nothing from Roose Bolton, but he insisted on finding ways to keep you alive. A true mockery that felt now. Your stomach burned where the slices refused to heal or fade. You looked off to the side dejectedly, and he took that was an answer. 

Pulling the fabric down from between your teeth you bit your tongue and continued to not look in his direction. “It’s been almost a fortnight since you’ve eaten, and days since you’ve had any water. If I’m going to keep you alive, we’re going to have to fix that problem.” 

“Then don’t keep me alive. Wouldn’t be the first time.” You barley recognized your voice, it was hoarse and so rough that your throat screamed at you to douse it in water and smooth it down with honey to ease the pain. Tearing your eyes back up to him as your head lulled to rest back against the bark you raised your eyebrows at him in challenge. 

His ability to keep calm in any situation no longer was a point of impressive resolve, but an angering fester in your stomach at his lack of humanity. “It was not a matter of personal affairs, just politics, my lady.” 

Your breath cracked out a single laugh that almost made you cough. “Where is the utility in keeping me alive, when you sure tried your best to do the opposite?” You couldn’t ignore the burning inside of you, it was as if you’d pull your dress up and see a blackness toxifying around what was left. 

“This is neither the time nor place to discuss such matters. Not in your fragile state.” Huffing another cracked laughter you asked him what he even wanted. “Right now I want to ensure I can get myself, my men, and even you into the Dreadfort in one piece. When we arrive I will have our maester treat you, then we can speak more.” 

You felt dizzy even just sitting up against a tree like this, the air was obviously getting colder judging by the state of dress going around but you neither were covered in anyway to help, nor did you really feel it. It was as if you were in the dark swampiness of the Crannogmen lands but instead of a misty air it was humid and sweltering like a Dornish sun. All you could muster was a huff. 

Leaning forward with a skin of something, he opened the cap and took a sip before holding it up with an expectant look. “It will be far easier to get us past the Ironborn if I have you on a horse instead of dragging you around in a cage. But I need to know you will cooperate if I do. I’ll even keep let you stay ungagged.”  

Leaning forward with the skin once more before he was uncomfortably close to your face, “I wouldn’t test me further, my lady. The only thing keeping these men from raping you every night is my order, and I’m quite sure in this state you wouldn’t survive as many as have talked about it. So either it’s me, or I leave you now to the mercy of my men.”

There was no place in arguing, you had nothing to fight back with. Jaw clenched as you fought back the angry pounding in your heart, you nodded. Roose seemingly satisfied enough that he gently placed the skin to your mouth. The water down your throat felt so soothing that it made your insides wish to cry, but you had no energy for it. So you let him give you the water, and come morning maybe you would feel less like a floating bundle of delusions. 

He left you alone after that, but just as he said none came over to you. You think there were groups that had their eyes on you, but it was difficult to see. In the dark, the blurriness of your vision only let you see what was in front of your face and everything else was blurs of shapes and fire. 

Late into the night, you fell asleep once more. The only thing which came to you, was the sight of Roose plunging the knife he struck you with into the chest of Robb and the strings of music that had played only seconds before it all. That’s all you saw anymore, and you couldn’t remember if you ever dreamed in any way before that night, all you saw and heard was those two things again and again. 

One man, dark eyes with a creeping look that would once have made you on edge was the one who fetched you come morning. He spoke some, expected nothing in return. Pointing a knife at your unresponsive face as he threw out, “You run or hit me, and I’ll knock that pretty face around enough to leave a mark that’ll stay ugly. Got it?” Merely untying you did nothing, since your hands were still bound tight enough to keep you from struggling them from behind. 

Yanking you up to your feet he walked you though the camp to where the horses were stood ready to go. Another man next to what seemed to be his, smirked as he nodded to you like a silent object. “Know it’s been a rough few years when even this one looks good ‘nuff to make a man jealous.” 

Knocking him in the arm, he moved with him to hoist you up onto the horse, your vision spinning drastically at the movement with no way to steady yourself. The first dark eyed man, Locke, climbed up behind you, taking your bound hands into his grip and yanking you back to hiss in your ear. “Be smart now, lass. There’s nothing round us but Ironborn and best bet no one’s gonna protect your honour once you’re alone with them. You gonna be a smart girl?” Nodding with a clenched jaw, he hummed satisfied. 

Shoving you off of him before the rest of the men all begun to take off. They’d have to take the day to sneak past the bordered scouts and by then, if they pushed hard they could make it to the Dreadfort by next daybreak. You couldn’t possibly wonder what awaited you there, but at the minimum, threat of death was far from any worry in your mind. 

Waking up for good had felt like a new kind of death, a confusion that tore you up and threatened to swallow you whole. Making no sense at first, you had died you knew it. Or, you thought you did. Not a thing had felt like the way you were fading and yet you were here now. You dared not think of the memory of fire and chanting you were so sure as a deathly torment of the gods. If you thought of that, you might bringing up the only thing in your stomach, of water and bile and you refused to look at yourself in anyway. The red staining your dress was there until the mercy of new clothes might be granted if ever. 

You had no right to be here, you had promised him. You and Robb promised the other that it would be until your last day, together. Not one without the other, you found your fate dying beside him but yet you were alive and the memories of him would paint before your mind like cries in the night. 

Something was quite wrong inside you, but you felt like there wasn’t enough awareness in you to see what it was or what was missing. All you knew is that you were trapped in this memory of that night, and you couldn’t see a single thing in the world around you except that and here. 

If there was a world and people that existed besides this nightmare, you could not find them. 

“So you admit you murdered Qhorin Halfhand?” 

Standing in the main hall before three men, having found nothing right when Jon awoke. Lord Commander Mormont as Sam said, dead. Murdered in a mutiny, and leaving him to hope that he learned enough from the Old Bear to get through to the rest. 

Jon saw nothing but conflict in his actions, and as he stood there now it was clear that it didn’t matter what they thought of him, it mattered that he make them understand what no one else seemed to truly get. Neither side got it, it seemed. “I didn’t murder him.” 

Ser Alliser Thorne looked him down with the same contempt he always had, and if he had his way without question he would’ve ended Jon then and there the second he rode through the gates. “No? You put your sword through a brother of the Night’s Watch. What do you call that?” 

“He wanted me to kill him.” 

Lord Janos Slynt sat to the left, leaning partially across the table with the same puffy and slime filled smugness he always held. Full of respect for none but his own reputation, and yet he was here down in the icy ends of the world like the rest of them. “The bastard son of a traitor. What would you expect?” 

The man was lucky Jon wasn’t as young and brash as he was in his first months here. He tried putting a knife through Ser Alliser in a rage for a similar comment once upon a time. Instead, he kept his composure and attention on the later man and Maester Aemon listening intently to his right. “The Halfhand believed our only chance to stop Mance was to get a man inside his army.” 

Ser Alliser interrupting with a gritted roughness that Jon could sympathize with. “Don’t talk about the Halfhand as if you knew him. He was my brother.”

They were all brothers now, even you, Jon thought. Ser Alliser certainly wasn’t a fan of Jon, nor he in return but he knew losing a brother wasn’t easy and it certainly didn’t make Jon feel like he was doing the right thing when he killed him. He agreed with the man himself to do it, and he agreed with why, but he still put his sword through the Halfhand. His first true kill and that would forever be a bloodstain on his hands. “Then you’d know he’d do anything to defend the Wall. The free folk would have boiled him alive, but letting me kill him-”

Slynt had the gall to laugh, like there was anything in Jon’s entire existence anymore that even could give the slightest bit of amusement. “The free folk? Listen to him, he even talks like a wildling now.” 

The rage for a minute spilled out of his mouth as Jon raised his voice to him, “Aye, I talk like a wildling. I ate with the wildlings, I climbed the wall with the wildlings, I-” There was that wave again. One that made him feel uncomfortable and bordering on a guilty kind of dirty that he couldn’t scrub away no matter how hard. It was there and they would all only see one thing, but it didn’t feel anything the way they were going to. 

Then Jon thought of you, and it just made it all the worse. But he had to be honest in some regards, he wasn’t going to get through to these men by lying. He had to just say it the only way any would care or believe him with. “I laid with a wildling girl.” 

“You admit to breaking your vows, then?” 

If that’s what they were going to focus on, what would it even take to convince them to take him seriously on anything else. He did break his vows, but not willingly, and not with the only person who deserved to have them broken for. 

Janos Slynt continued his petty tirade that Jon was growing increasingly annoyed with. “The law is law, the boy must die.” And what law did you break to get here, my lord? What had you done to find yourself from City Watch Commander to the Night’s Watch, what mercy were you shown to not die for your crimes, Jon thought. 

Maester Aemon however, seemed to care not for where they saw fit to debate Jon on. “If we beheaded every ranger who lay with a girl, the Wall would be manned by headless men.” 

Ser Alliser trying to argue, “There’s a difference between sneaking off to the Mole’s Town brothel and sleeping with the enemy.” Somehow Jon knew that telling him the only alternative was death, wouldn’t exactly give him any more leniency, but he like Aemon, had no time for this. 

“Aye, there is a difference. Sneaking out to a brothel doesn’t give you detailed information about their enemy plans and numbers. And while we sit here debating which rules I broke, Mance Rayder marches on the wall with an army of a hundred thousand.” 

They tried to protest that was impossible, but he’d seen it. He had walked through that camp and felt nothing but a building dread for what was to come of any of this. “He’s united the Thenns, the Hornfoots, the Ice-River Clans. He has giants fighting for him.” 

The degree to which Jon was getting fed up with Janos Slynt was immeasurable. The man laughed while looking at the other two who didn’t find anything funny about it. “Giants?” 

Jaw tight, he looked to the waste of air with a barley held back lack of respect on his face. “Have you ever been beyond the Wall, ser?” 

There was that huff of pride in his face once more. “I commanded the City Watch of King’s Landing, boy.” 

“And now you’re here. You must not have been very good at your job.” Jon would have no way of knowing it, but another voice with serious eyes and a dismissive snark echoed in Janos Slynt’s ears. 

The voice of a woman who he had no reasonable way of knowing meant a single thing to dark curly haired man in front of them. The girl had spent many of her days on the council questioning his capabilities, and insulting him all the same as this one. But Jon ignored his outrage as she always would.

“There’s a band of wildlings south of the Wall already led by Tormund Giantsbane. I killed their warg and three others, they shot me full of arrows. Their orders are to attack Castle Black from the south while Mance hits it from the north. Their signal for the attack will be a bonfire, Mance said it would be the greatest fire the North has ever seen. That’s the truth. All the truth.” 

They didn’t execute him, or at least not that day Jon thought to himself. As he slept that night though, he still saw you dying on the floor in your own blood. Sam had tried asking him about the girl, about Ygritte. Especially since he now had Gilly in his life but Jon knew there was no comparing. From what he could tell, Gilly had more of a strange sheltered life then any of them, and she was nothing like the aggressive and hypocritical anger of the wildling girl Jon had travelled with. 

But he didn’t want to talk about Ygritte, he didn’t want to talk about having to send his only protection in Ghost away just to save his cover from that of death. Didn’t want to talk about what he was forced to do and how he tricked himself into thinking it was all fine just to cope with it. 

Only a few times did Sam try to gently bring up the other, but Jon shot it down every single time. He already felt pain and anger about it, about Robb. Jon certainly didn’t want to talk about you. Not now. Maybe not ever. 

Jon had a job to do, and he was haunted enough in his dreams of your death to have Sam try and comfort him about it. Besides, he didn’t even have Ghost now. He hadn’t seen him since sending him off and all he could remember in his waking hours, was the two of you sitting in front of the Weirwood. Ghost still tiny curled up in your lap as you sat in his arms. 

He was losing everything it seemed, but he’d be damned if he lost this place, the only thing that served from the gods to provide Jon with any kind of purpose. In this coming war, or the one foreboding against them in the distant colds of the far North. 

The Dreadfort was a befitting name you supposed. It stood tall in what looked like the middle of nowhere, cleared land all around the high walls, that build up on the inside to the highest fort in the dead centre with edges at the top looking like sharp, imposing teeth. As your eyes drifted along it, a woozy feeling came over you from the last push to get into the lands past the remaining Ironborn. Gates opening, the court was as drab and deary as the rest of it and yet the people all scattered around were normal. 

Roose Bolton climbed from his horse first to greet a figure awaiting in the distance, and introducing his new wife. Walda was a bit younger then you, and certainly held more life in her eyes and face then you did. A brightness as she was brought into the castle where you were pulled off the front of the horse by two men. 

Turning from the other man, Roose looked to them with orders, “Put her in a cell, and have Maester Wolkan look her over.” You hardly had a chance to see or hear anything else as you were dragged into a deeper part of the structure. The cells in your vision were along a single wall and quite small as the only light was a small set of torches lit along wall corners. 

None said a word to you, but you went willingly as they opened the doors. Cutting your hands free behind your back before tossing you in and closing behind you. The echos of their feet fading off until it was the flickering of the flames left alone with you. 

Wincing as you dragged yourself up with palms braced on the ragged ground before finding a resting spot against the wall and side of the cell. Resting your head along the bars you couldn’t figure out what it was you were feeling. Your body held an ache all over where some places burned like a festering would alight. 

Eyes barley focusing on the wall beyond your cell, they wanted to let tears fall freely but you simply had nothing left in you. The shock of waking up had passed by this point, and now all that was left was the murky depths left behind and only one thing at a time could come to the surface for air. You could still hear the strings playing, the hall filling with music that had you, nor anyone, suspect a thing until it was already over. 

You hardly thought any other music existed, it looped in your mind as did the damning stop of it as the instruments blurred to weapons. Perhaps it was your doom to sit reliving such a moment and yet you found nothing in you to say Roose Bolton took you just to let you rot. 

He had tried to kill you, and you had even lay there beside Robb thinking he had succeeded until..the wall torch fire before you flashed to another fire, and that turned to yells and chanting and in a split second you flew a hand to to grasp tightly at one of the bars as your lungs gave out. You told yourself not to think about it, you said you would never look back to that sight-

A door opening had you slam your eyes shut, breathing so harshly out that you felt the dizziness spin around you. Your hand still gripped the bar so tightly though that it strained your hand into a cramp as you willed your panic to swallow. “My lady,” 

Slowly you opened them, trying to stay still as you glanced up and to the side where a man you didn’t recognize stood. Two guards behind him, but you did note the chains across his robes before sighing and turning away. 

The guards entered behind him to stand at attention as he came towards you. “My lady, I am Maester Wolkan, I am here to see how your health is faring.” He knelt down in front of you as you huffed out a painful spit of air as it trying to fake a laugh. “I understand you have been through a lot, if you would allow me?” 

Rolling your head to the side so he could see your still discoloured eye, he tilted your head back and forth to see the other cuts along you. “How long have you had this fever?” You didn’t answer, you didn’t even know. It had been days since you woken up, and it’s felt both like years of pain have passed through you and only seconds since losing everything of your life. 

Wolkan lightly soaked a cloth in a small basin of water before dabbing it across your forehead, the coolness of it making you hiss towards the feeling against your burning skin. Taking it upon himself, he washed away some of the blood and grime on your face as the water left a cool sheen on it.

“Can you stand on your own?” Your eyes narrowed in confusion before remembering he was there to look at your wounds, when truthfully you didn’t see the point. Nodding, you hissed in lifting yourself up, letting him look over your arm, pulling apart the torn fabric near your shoulder to look at the deep unhealed scar inside of it. “Any pain or difficulties moving this arm at all?” 

You shook your head no, passing your notice, that it made him pause, looking at you almost puzzled for just a moment. He must have been told some of the wounds, as gently asked you, “I will have to undo the laces against your back to check the one there.” You didn’t react, just looked to the nothing on the dark walls as he looked where you pushed away the memory of an arrow. Not the one which hit you, no, the ones that-

“This might seem a droll indecent, but I was informed you had received a significant injury on your stomach and I will need to take a look at it.” You were stuck at the arrows, not thinking of anything else after reliving the seconds as they hit him, and your eyes finding a watering that luckily was hard to see in this light. 

The man had to gently pull up the skirt of your dress, trying carefully not to peel it on the sensitive skin as he revealed what you had no bravery to look at. But by not looking at it, you also missed the shocked, almost dreadfully fearful astonishment in Wolkan’s face. “My lady how did-” 

“Ask your lord, he will know better.” 

The finality in your tone ended that line of thought in his head, but his eyes were so focused on the wounds that you begun to shake from the lack of energy. Dropping it back down he gently grabbed your upper arms, “Here, you can sit once more.” 

It took some time for him to come to an assessment, packing up some of his things. “I fear you have an infection, my lady. The lack of food and water likely making it overstay it’s place for much longer, I will have simple water and broth sent down to you for the next while. As well as a potion that will help speed the process.” Glancing down to your stomach and then your dulled eyes he paused, “It is the-”

“I don’t want to to hear it, just send me what I need to take and I’ll take it. Now if we are finished Maester, I’d like to be left alone to rot in the quiet.” Watching you for a few significant moments, he respected your wish and made his way to leave. 

Normally he would inform you the degree which it would make you ill before getting better, but he had the feeling you had very little care on such a side effect. Such a state you were in, how bloodied and unwell you were as Lord Bolton dragged you across much of the North, and then was the wounds on her stomach..as far as Wolkan in all his knowledge could tell anyone, there shouldn’t have been a soul who could have survived that. 

It hadn’t healed, but it was as if it was to stay open and deep without having any impact on the skin around it. It was a gruesome, violent, jagged series of scars all connected together, and yet it was as if they existed separate of your body.

In the main hall, the Greyjoy in Ramsay Snow’s care looked as unwell and ragged as the lady in the cells, but subservient to the point it made many uncomfortable. “If Bran and Rickon are alive, the country will rally to their side now that Robb Stark is gone.” 

Theon pausing in his actions shaving the younger man, a horror in his eyes that was desperate to be pushed back down before it swallowed him whole. Ramsay with no genuinity in his sorrowful tone. “Oh that’s right, Reek. Robb Stark is dead.” 

Roose Bolton notably said nothing to stop his sons torment of Theon. Turning to Locke instead he gave the man an offer, “Find those boys and I’ll give you a thousand acres and a holdfast.”  

Locke asking on any ideas where to start, and the beginnings of a true mistake unknowingly spilling from Roose’s mouth in instruction. “Jon Snow is at Castle Black. Their bastard brother, he could be sheltering them, he may know where they are. Even if he doesn’t he’s half Stark himself which means he could prove to be a threat. Especially if he learns of our most recent prisoner,” Pausing as he looked to Ramsey with something that Theon couldn’t yet grasp, how could he? He didn’t know any of who else they were keeping here besides himself.

Looking back to Locke, Roose was specific with your name on his lips that way too quickly made Theon swallow harshly, “Make sure no mention of her presence here gets out. Jon Snow was close with the girl, and she is his brothers widow. If he isn’t hiding the boys, he may still learn that she’s being kept here. And I don’t care to have him bringing a fight to our doorstep to get her back.” 

His instructions included killing you, that much was made clear from Tywin Lannister but apparently you were a frustrating little fighter. It was a surprise to find later in the night, you were still alive. He had come up as the blood was all still fresh, knocked you with his foot onto your back and you were as dead as every other corpse in the hall. You and Robb both pale, blood had spilled out and stopped, and not a pulse to be felt as both your eyes sat wide, colourless, and defeated. There was no question about it.

Until later when he had returned. Ensuring the giant direwolf had been taken care of, walking back in before the Freys and his men could do whatever with the bodies they wished. But as he approached the King and Queen, and with no one in the hall to have done so, suddenly, your eyes had been closed. And you had the faintest of pulses he’d ever felt, but it was there. He was sure he watched you die himself, but now you sat in his dungeon as a plan begun to formulate in his mind. 

Time was difficult for you to gauge, but far longer had begun to pass then you realized, weeks and months that felt like seconds or years. In that time, Roose building the steps to a proper claim, and promised his bastard son, that if he could prove himself and retake Moat Cailin, then he would reconsider his position. Afterall, if you were alive anyways, you were of no use to Roose in the hands of his bastard, but in the hands of a legitimate heir? Perhaps the gods left you alive for a reason. 

Roose just had to make sure that the half Stark at Castle Black heard no word of you being alive. Too many people underestimated Robb Stark for too long, and the same mistake would not be made twice, not for his brother. Ramsay has his own way of things, but Roose Bolton did not want to be the one to underestimate Jon Snow.  

Gods, how much time had even passed? You felt in a daze that never ended, even worse then before. A servant for the Maester brought down a vile smelling potion which tasted even worse. Since you had kept nothing down. The broth and water seems to be your only diet to make having it come right back up less disgusting. 

You were dripping in sweat, your head running so hot you wondered if the fire of the torch would even burn you. Sometime in the hours, or days that had passed you would see things your mind told you to not believe. Some of it you knew, most of it felt like a life that was beyond understanding. 

Laying in bed, there was rain pouring out the high windows that blended with the river in the distance, the light of the moon dripping you in shades of blue matching his bright eyes as you lay bare on your side into the equally as bare chest of another. His hand drifting across your stomach so gently in touch as you nuzzled into their neck. The feeling of his curls dancing around your cheek before the strings begun.  

The begun and as they played you opened your eyes in the same position as his hand raised now soaked in blood. Looking to you his blue eyes were in a terrified horror before you could see them go out all the same. Only as you lay there on your side, feeling the blood rushing from your stomach like it was to never end, did the room twist and turn to a red.

Red tones and fire all around as a voice in a foreign accent spoke in your ear. Their red hair hanging low as she spoke and if you had the strength to turn you could see the tight red ruby choked around her neck as she spoke. “Your Great Wolf to stand with you and your children together.”

You wanted to turn and lash out, scream that he was dead and so was the child in your womb but all that happened was blood rushing now from your mouth too. Too much blood that you begun to choke on it as you turned to her the red ruby trailing up until a pair of eyes met yours. Eyes of blue that sat on the head of a wolf it did not belong with, only as the faint chanting begun did your eyes snap open.

Turning to the corner behind you did you violently cough up nothing but water and bitter bile that scraped at your throat. One hand pressed against the wall and the other braced on the floor as you brought up what was hardly even there. Your throat burned as your stomach did, the servant who was bringing it down for you to drink would tell you it is to cleanse your system of the rot and it only felt like it spread violently. 

No sense of night or day, you hardly even had enough resolve to pay attention to the schedule of the guards. The servant of the Maester seemed kind, but he was a young boy who didn’t know any better you suspected. No one else spoke to you, or much looked at you. 

As you heaved to catch your breathe in between the pressure on your chest as you spit up more bile, you wondered if it mattered anymore. If none of them knew who you were, it would not matter what happened to you you maybe life would be easier if you just died on them. 

It would be easier for you as well. But there was nothing for such a thing in the cell. Just dirt, and your own fluids that mixed horribly. If any were to find you now, they’d easily mistaken you for a filthy craven, and you felt like one. 

You barley heard the footstep over the heaves of your breathe until they were speaking to you right outside the bars. “Oh my word,” Gasping you flung yourself back, almost pressing up against the wall with fright. You barley could recognize the fellow kneeling down looking at you, but you think perhaps he was in the courtyard when greeting Roose. 

Hair dark to an almost black and laid flat across his forehead with eeiry pale blue eyes that were wide as they looked at you. You said nothing, untrusting of any face that looked at you in such a place. Looking you over, he sighed to himself. “I heard we had a guest, but such a shame to find you in a state such as this, my lady.” 

Straightening your back, you dragged your knees up to your chest, as you narrowed your eyes. He simply shrugged to himself before holding a hand out through the bars, seeing you not move an inch as he grimaced and pulled back even slower. “Not a woman for formalities, I can understand that. Especially in a state such as this,” whistling out he looked you over in a way you could only describe as making you feel even dirtier then you were. “Why they didn’t even bother offering you new clothes, you’re stuck in the same bloody ones as you arrived. That will not do, a lady should at least have a pretty dress to go with such a pretty face.” 

“What do you want?”

He reacted none to the bluntness, your voice scratched badly like claw marks scraped down your throat. “Well I would be remiss if I didn’t pay the late Queen in the North a visit.” You bit your tongue to the point it threatened to bleed, it was a mockery. Is that what you were supposed to see yourself as anymore, here thrown away in the dungeons to waste in the home of the very man who murdered your king? “Oh, I’m so sorry. Sensitive subject, I know.”

His voice was so exaggerated in his inauthenticity, you bought not a word and you thought you likely weren’t supposed to. “If you’ve come down here to mock me, fair not. Bolton’s men have seen fit to do that the entire journey, I am not with a lack of torment.” 

It felt so unnerving, his eyes. The way they lingered on you in ways you couldn’t immediately detect the intention of and a glint behind them that terrified you beyond what anything you’d see. But you were lucky, you were too faded inside to show it as he spoke once more. “You wound me, my lady. We’re in the North you see, we supported our King in the North and his Queen. But, I suppose if he’s good and dead that doesn’t really make you one anymore does it?” 

You didn’t care if you were a queen, you cared that you were Robb’s wife and now you broke your promise to stay together. You swore a vow in love and now you sat with his blood in your mouth and son dead from your womb. “Then again, you are still a Baratheon, does that make you a princess now? No, that doesn’t seem quite right either does it. A girl like you doesn’t scream princess.” 

Finding the strength to turn away from him, you looked at the nothing of the dark wall. Your name quiet on your lips. “That’s all I am I suppose.” 

“I seem to have you at a disadvantage, I know your name my lady but you don’t know mine do you? You’ve likely heard of me, most call me Ramsay, others call me Roose Bolton’s bastard son.” Your back chilled as you shivered, despite the sweat and the heat in your mind. So his family is all in on it, that was just what you needed to hear. 

Turning your head to face him as it leaned against the wall, you raised an eyebrow dully. “Did you want something, or can I die in peace?” 

He tsked as he stood up. “Now my lady, you can’t die. We haven’t spent nearly enough time together for me to be sick of you. I came to tell you, once you’re better, I can find you a nice room, a hot bath and we’ll see about any nice, pretty dresses we can get for you.” 

Clearly, he did not care if you bought into him. It didn’t matter if you left this cell or not, you couldn’t see past the blood and the fog in your head marred by the strings of music. He only took a few steps away before spinning back to you in a dramatic fashion. 

“How silly of me, I did come here with a present actually. You see, I have a little task I have to leave for, and I just couldn’t bear the thought if something happened to him and you didn’t get a chance to meet each other. My own servant, a very special boy I’ve whipped him up to be.” You narrowed your eyes as you felt your limbs weigh too much, you’d have passed out from exhaustion were he still not insisting on talking. 

“If he does a good job while we’re away, I may just start lending him to you once we get you back on your feet. I’m sure he will be the perfect company. Reek, come say hello.” If you had anything left to bring back up to the surface of the world, you would have. 

Instead you lost all breathe, head spinning as you found the appearance of this so called present. Much like you, marred in grime and dirt and sickly appearance to their skin that matched with the matted hair grown out. As if their entire existence was in a detrimental fear, you felt a weight in your throat that kept you from any words. 

Dark eyes that refused to look at a thing slowly drifted upwards until they met the agony of yours and your heart pounded until it flattened to nothing and left you woozy. There was a recognition in his eyes that you were to delusional and feverish to understand. 

Something that in Ramsay’s delight of torment, did not see. A pain of who he was looking at and what state they both had ended up in, alone in the world trapped within the confines of the family of flayers and torturers. “Now Reek, it’s not polite to stare. I’m sure the lady isn’t quite ready so soon after her husbands tragic death, besides not like you have the ability to do anything about it.” 

He shook and you narrowed your eyes in confusion with a tilt of your head, you felt the need to vomit once more as the potion swam through your stomach like it had for days now. Leaving you once more, Ramsay had to pull him away when he took half a second too long to part from your eyes. The dungeons fell quiet and dark once more and your mind only had enough time to feel even more confused until your stomach forced more burning up. 

“And Theon? I want him brought to me alive. I want to look him in the eye and ask him why. Then I’ll take his head myself.” 

Collapsing to the ground with a cry of pain, you curled up with your knees back against your chest. The hurt and betrayal on his face that day, the way only you seemed to give him any peace as you both stood unified in what he commanded. But this was no longer such a day, such a time. 

The blue eyes you wanted to see were darker then those pale ones, and with an adoration you wanted to scream at. Robb didn’t want this for you, Theon. Neither of us did, you thought. You demanded justice at Robb’s side, but this was not justice. 

If what you were holding back cries of pain for was not justice, you couldn’t imagine what found it’s way into his terror to make Theon Greyjoy look as frail and petrified as you felt. 

He was fighting to call himself one or the other. Reek was screeching in his head that he would be punished for this, but Theon kept climbing the stairs anyways. It was quite late, and he was already under orders to bring you a meal but he was not given orders to speak to you. So why was he walking down and fighting to not do so?

Walk in, open the gate, sit the food down and return like Reek was ordered to do, but as he stood outside the cell door, it was like for a moment Theon screamed at him and sent Reek down past his consciousness. Voice stammering and weak did he mutter your name, he did it twice and maybe if he had to do it a third he would chicken out and leave. But you looked. 

Sat against the wall with your knees to your chest, arms wrapped around them and your head tucked in the middle, you rose up and it was clear as day the tears. Theon wasn’t sure he’s ever seen you cry. Very few would have and you were good at keeping it to yourself, but then again, Theon was good at many things Reek was not. 

Placing a small vial on the ground before moving to sit the tray beside you. He couldn’t even stammer out the words before you huffed out another tearful cry and kicked the tray from you. Sending him back in a jump. The way you looked up at him, who even were you on the inside? Did you not see yourself anymore as Theon saw Reek in his reflection? Had you even seen the state of yourself, eyes dulled to a weakness you’d never shown, eye still discoloured from where someone must have hit you and a flush to your skin that he knew came from having nothing in your system. 

What happened? How did it happen? How did Robb- 

He breathed out heavily as he snapped his head to attention. It poured out before he could stop himself from saying it. “I was wrong. I- I took Winterfell and I was wrong…” You said nothing. Your lips parted but closed once more with a heavy swallow. “I…” 

“Theon,” your voice was so quiet. Somewhere in his mind, he recalled the people called you the Silent Stag, always quiet you were but just as notable. But this quiet wasn’t that, this was a whisper that worried it was too loud even in the stone of a dungeon. “I..we didn’t- it’s my fault.” You inhaled deeply, eyes fluttering shut for the action before opening them with a calmer look that refused to look at him. 

“I didn’t know they’d do this..any of this..and we sent them. I’m sorry.” 

Both inside him struggled how to feel, Reek had nothing to accept an apology for and yet Theon knelt forward to the ground. Crouching he slowly opened the vial with a shaky breathe before holding it to you. He wanted to speak and you could see it but neither pushed until he whispered it out like a deathly vow being broken as you drunk the liquid. “I didn’t kill them. Bran and Rickon. I didn’t kill them, I lied.” 

Your lips fell open as neither of you looked anywhere but between your bodies on the floor. “Roose Bolton killed Robb. Shoved a knife in his heart, and a few times in me.” Likely you didn’t know why you showed him, or even told him, but Theon’s breathing quickened as you lifted the fabric. The skin underneath was utterly blood soaked in ways he’d only ever seen on those of the dead. But why were they on you if you were here? “If that isn’t vengeance..”

Theon wanted to stay and talk, but Reek heard the sounds of footsteps far in the distance and tore himself back. “I-” He didn’t look you in the eye, he couldn’t at this point. “I’ll come back.” 

Your voice was far away, your eyes had lulled shut back into a dream of stringed nightmares as you muttered, “Of course you will. He’ll order you too.” 

Your nails were bloody, but you think it was starting to carve properly. The nothing drawing in the wall that kept you occupied for most of the day now. It was silent for a while once you were better, guards came to bring you a meal and then it was back into the quiet. There was no outside world here, no wars once fought, no lives trying to find peace, nothing. Just the walls of your cell, and the carving you were scraping into the stone wall. 

No sense of time came to you, it could have been years and you would be none the wiser of anything. Another war could have come and passed, not an inkling would’ve found you. You only saw the guards and the dungeon. You only dreamt of the blood and the strings as you awoke everytime knowing you failed him. 

Every attempt to come out into your soul was hollow, something was missing and it was part of what made you human. You could only see the curls against blue eyes that looked to you desperate not to see you go. It broke your heart everytime you saw him. 

The horror in your heart was settled somewhat in those final seconds, you would go together as you promised. From this day until our last day. And yet his last day was not yours, and you lived on without him. Guilt and shame ate away at you for breaking your vow to always be together, wherever his soul sat with the gods now you wondered if Robb was ashamed of you. 

You lived on without him, and you lost his unborn son. There was nothing left of Robb Stark with you anymore and the only proof he ever was, was a scar running so jaggedly along your lower stomach that you could feel each time Roose stabbed it back inside you. Tracing it gently enough with your fingers. A terrible stroke of luck, or was it the gods forcing it onto you?

Because the longer you sat in that silence alone, the more you came up with ways to fix it. What reason were you to still be here, why were you still alive if your existence was less then a rats. It wouldn’t be easy in here, but you could do it if you were really desperate. You wanted to the more weeks passed into months as you were alone down here. Shut away from the world, a dead wife to the King in the North, sequestered down in a dingy cell in the Dreadfort. Captive of the family who did this to you, and nothing to do but think of how much Robb would hate what you’ve become. 

This shell was not the woman he fell in love with, and you weren’t entirely sure you could even get that woman back now. Maybe part of you really did die beside him, and what remains in your body now is just the base of grief and anger that will burn through you until you’ve had enough. 

The gods were cruel however. The day he came to see you, it was the understanding of why they bothered to keep you alive. A confident man, Roose Bolton walked up to your cell with the same collected look he has had since the day you met him. Glancing around the cell, he could see you made very little use of the space, as if always having to be positioned against the bars to see the opening of the main door.

“I assume by now you realize no one is coming for you.” Your eyes glared up at him in a silent contemptuous irritation. “The Seven Kingdoms all think you’re dead. Tragically killed at the side of your husband-”

“They know you’re the one who put a knife to him? Or have you let Walder Frey take all of the credit for that?” Roose raised an eyebrow at you, unexpected of the sharp and angry tone that came from an otherwise unwell prisoner. “Suppose it isn’t really you who the southerners care about anyways. You get to claim you killed an unarmed King, and his pregnant wife when you only did it because you had Tywin Lannister to hide behind the skirts of.” 

Stepping forward to you, he looked down with ease as you craned your neck up to find his own, the anger in your voice did not match your eyes. “It is encouraging see you have put your time down here to good use. I kill Robb Stark and yourself, and in return I am given the title Warden of the North until the son of Sansa and Tyrion Lannister comes of age to take over. Unfortunately, there has been a problem in his planning.” 

You twisted your face at the unpleasant imagery.

“Sansa has fled King’s Landing after the murder of King Joffery, and her imp husband is to go on trial.” A year ago you would have been thrilled at the news that your repulsive once cousin was dead, now though it was a non victory that felt hollow. The world indeed kept turning outside the walls and you were none the wiser of a single tinge of it. “Sansa’s son by Tyrion was intended to be the key to the North for the Lannisters as they have no other ties, now there is no child to inherit the North from me.” 

Biting your tongue, you exhaled harshly through your nose to will the angry beating of your heart down to something manageable. “Did you come here to gloat about your new title or did you just want to remind me of what you’ve done.” 

“My men are reclaiming what’s left of the Ironborn that stands in the road to Winterfell, and we will soon move there once my son has cleared the way. You will be coming with us. Willingly.” 

Your voice scratched as you huffed a laugh, “And do tell, my lord. Why would I ever go with you willingly?” You watched as he knelt in front of you, and the frustration in your voice did not match how you pressed yourself against the wall further. 

With every inch of your body you hated the quiet calm in his voice as he nodded to your attire. “Because if you do, I will make sure you are cleaned, properly fed, groom you up and dress you like a lady and not like that creature my son drags around. You won’t be able to leave the castle walls, or go anywhere outside without being under guard. But I won’t throw you back into a cell.” 

Not a thought came to you that imagined yourself like that anymore. Your life was drenched in blood and memories of pain that blurred out the rest in it’s grief. Would you feel more like a person to even just breathe fresh air? Was that worth playing along with the man who betrayed his people and murdered your king and child? 

Roose did not wait for any kind of response, moving towards the cell door when you asked, “Why? If I’m just a prisoner why bring me to Winterfell? No one even knows I’m alive, what would it matter if you keep me locked away in here?”

The blood inside you cooled to a freeze as you looked wide eyed with a hesitant fear that you know he caught onto. “If Ramsay is successful in retaking Moat Cailin, he will be granted a legitimate son and become a Bolton. The Lannisters won’t help me keep the North, but perhaps I don’t need them to. All the Stark men are dead, which means if Ramsay is a Bolton, he will be my firstborn son and heir. And he will be needing one of his own.” 

Roose didn’t elaborate but he didn’t need to. You almost begun to bite your tongue so hard on unknowing it could have bled. You felt sick as you had days ago, but this was an illness rooted in a fear and bloody memories of your last. “You truly think I would ever let him-” 

One eyebrow raised, his voice was patronizing as it was condescending. “Do you think you have any choice in the matter? Shall I reminder you how it is the world works?” 

You glared up with as much energy as you could summon, a sneer on your own face as you sharply bit back, “Do use small words, my lord. I’m not as bright as you.” 

You didn’t expect it to even effect him in the slightest. He rarely budged on anything, especially now when it is was he holds all the power. “You are a highborn lady, and if my son should succeed he will be a legitimate highborn to inherit my own lordship. You are also my prisoner, and I don’t think I need to remind you of my own stance on prisoner treatment. Ramsay doesn’t need your permission to use you to produce an heir.”

Do not show anything else you told yourself, do not let him see the fear in your heart. “I’m not a Northerner, Lord Bolton. I have no claim that could help you.” 

A lightness in his eyes was the most genuine you had seen in since that night and you felt even more ill thinking on it. “No, but you were the Queen that Robb Stark chose, you were the Queen every Northern chose, my lady. That is claim enough for what we require.” 

By the time you found any bravery left in your voice you called out to him before he could leave you alone in the darkness of the dungeon once more. “Did you ever believe in him? Or was it all just a lie the entire time? You served him for almost three years, was none of it ever true?” 

Roose sounded as if he was giving a simple order to a servant, no care for his monstrosity. “I believed in Robb Stark right up until I shoved my dagger covered in your blood into his chest. But loyalty does not buy me money or power, and Tywin Lannister simply had the better offer.” The dagger sat on his waist, blood for you to see and all. You’d felt many illnesses down here, but it was that which made you loose every sense left to you. 

The door closed and once more you were left in darkness. You weren’t sure when the tears had started, but this time you let them fall until your eyes dried out like sands in the Dornish summer. 

You should have died with Robb, and you truly were beginning to think it was necessary to find a way to go back to him, one way or another. He had told you once you in those days before your wedding that you belonged in Winterfell, but what was your belonging in such a place without the wolves to keep you company?

The gods granted you a chilling answer to that question when some time later, they sent Ramsay Bolton down to your cell in the middle of the night, a disturbing glint in his unsettling pale eyes trained only on you. 

[happyinjection]

♠️♥️High Card Short Story 3 “Welcome Back, Leo-sama” (1/3)♦️♣️

The team had just started arguing about who’s supposed to be in charge of picking Leo up from school.

Original: https://twitter.com/highcard_pj/status/1534369905130102784?s=46&t=_qyNYzWUsoOCgSi5451Ppw

Author: https://twitter.com/poipheno

Artist: https://twitter.com/ebimoji3

“—and thus, I am unable to pick up Leo-sama today. Can someone please do it in my stead?”

Bernard-ojiichan declared to the four of us in the showroom. Long story short, he needed one of us to get a car out and pick up Leo from school. His request was met with complete silence.

“As expected, no one is willing to volunteer.”

Chris chuckled to himself as he wiped one of the cars displayed using a piece of rag.

“No one wants to be left alone with Leo, am I right? Because he would start nagging us to death one way or another.”

"Chris, that wasn’t very nice of you,” Vijay immediately chided him. “You think so too, right, Happy-san?”

“Who on earth are you talking—”

I was just about to ask, but then I noticed that Vijay’s eyes were on a pot of yellow flowers sitting on his desk. At the same time, Chris blinked for about one second too long. It was a signal intended for me. The gesture was easy to tell due to his long eyelashes.

Do not to dig too deep into Vijay’s business, that was what he meant. Got it. I turned to the desk of my other colleague.

“How about you, Wendy? Since you’re always glued to your desk, you should go outside once in a while.”

“Hey, brat.”

Taking off her black-rimmed glasses, Wendy lifted her head up and pointed her ballpoint pen straight at me.

“Do you know how much paperwork I had to do to support you on your missions? Everything from finding the computer power up button to pressing stamps, who taught you about those again?”

“.....I’m sorry.”

Such great power was contained in her concise words that I found myself standing upright with my head hanging down.

“Finn, what did I tell you! Do not pick fights with Wendy! Haven’t you been listening to my love advice?”

When Chris butted in, the subject of her rage shifted all of a sudden.

“It’s only natural that a rookie needs guidance! It is Chris who’s at fault for not giving him proper lessons! Finn didn’t do anything wrong!”

“.....Please accept my sincerest apology.”

Before I knew it, Chris was standing with his back straight and bowing his head down. As he returned to an upright position, Vijay patted on his back.

“Chris, are you crying?”

“Who wouldn’t cry after getting yelled at?! You’d better stop provoking Wendy, Finn! Or better yet, do not ever poke on her, not even the tiniest touch!”

“You made it sound like I’m some sort of pimple...”

Wendy grumbled while putting her glasses back on, then began tapping on her calculator. Chris let out a long sigh.

“I guess there’s no other way then. As per our tradition—”

“Let the Poker decide!”

“Absolutely not. I’m terrible at Poker.”

I was totally down for the idea, but Wendy seemed to disagree.

“Okay, but I and Finn and Vijay can still play.”

“Me? I don’t mind...”

“Not a chance! Vijay is even worse than I am!”

“Am I... not good at playing Poker?”

Wendy quickly averted her eyes when Vijay directed his unshakable gaze at her.

“Well, what I’m trying to say is...... even so....”

For a man so intelligent, Vijay was a remarkably terrible Poker player. He must be so smart that his thinking process was bent for about 300 degrees.

“It’s not good to take advantage of Poker to push work on each other to begin with. Right, Bernard-san.”

“As Wendy-san had said, this is also part of your job.”

As if on cue, Chris snapped his fingers.

“Alright! Finn, you’re going! This is your senior’s order!”

“Eeh!?! Why me! That’s not fair!”

“Sooner or later you’re going to have to pick up Leo anyway, so why not start now! Besides, I have a new car to do a test drive on.”

“Did you guys just hear that! Isn’t this a blatant abuse of power?!”

“No, no, this is your educational training! Hurry up, go! I may not be here when you return, though! Thanks for everything!”

“You would be perfectly fine, I believe…” Vijay calmly commented.

I wasn’t convinced, but an idea suddenly popped in my head.

“…Chris’ RAIKA has finished being repaired, hasn’t it?”

At that instant, Chris’ shoulders stiffened up so hard I could almost hear his bones creaking. RAIKA was Chris’ beloved car.

“If it’s okay with you, I want to take it on a ride. I’ve been meaning to drive it for a while now. Nice car, yeah?”

Chris turned his back on me.

“No way.”

“Isn’t it alright to lend that car for just a little while?”

Wendy tried to step in.

“No way, no way!”

“It would be a-okaaay. It’s not like anything’s going to happen to her.” I looked up at Chris expectantly.

“No way in hell! Why would I lend my mademoiselle to a newly licensed baby driver?!”

“Looks like it has been decided.”

Bernard-ojiichan, who had been listening quietly up to that moment, put an end to our conversation with perfect timing.

“Hehe. Come on, give me the keys.”

Chris chewed bitterly on his lip as he handed over the keys. Then he pulled out a bar of Fudgees out of nowhere and started biting on it in a feral manner.

I put on a pair of sunglasses that I had just brought out of my pocket.

“….What’s that?”

Wendy asked.

“Ain’t they nice. It’s Chris’ old pair which he gave me.”

The three of us except Chris exchanged looks with each other.

“W-what is it. What’s wrong with them?!”

“I… I see. Nevermind. No worries…”

“Ah, it must’ve something to do with me being a rookie! You guys are trying to trick me by making up stuff that never even happened!”

“…….”

“Spit it out!”

♠️♥️♦️♣️

TL notes: I’m in no way a professional translator so if you find any mistakes, please do not hesitate to inform me right away. I love the High Card gang and I found it very unfortunate that while it is meant to be a multimedia project, I can’t seem to find the translated versions of any materials (beside the anime) anywhere (if this is against copyright, I will take it down). Hopefully this small TL would help international viewers gain better understanding of HC universe and characters. The author of these SS himself said that he hoped fans would have their “so that’s what it is!” moments when they watch the anime after reading his short stories. So with that in mind, let’s enjoy High Card together~

[astrum99]

@patronsaintofdemons from original post

*runs at u* *snatches u by the arm* *shaking u shaking u* I GOT U. YOU RE NOW A VICTIM OF MY THOGHTS . DO NOT RESIST. 

No joke I woke up yesterday morning at 4am, saw ur tags, and couldn’t get back so sleep for a whole hr bc I got so excited to talk abt whatever funky waves my brain is generating ( I am at peak obsession right now, I am generating enough energy to power a small city))

Sorry if I’m being awfully deranged. I'm not used to being Comprehended and Perceived as an existing entity. Please excuse the part of me that is vibrating so hard I am about to emit light beams from my eyes like some sort of cartoon character. Anyways.

Ultrakill, so far, doesn’t actually have a super complex lore. The story is succinctly simple and tragic. The characters as well. I won't focus on that because my obsession lies in Gabriel. From your tags, it looks like you haven’t gotten deep into the game (yet), so I don’t want to spoil the fun if you ever decide to watch a playthrough of the game, or play the game yourself.

And I can avoid spoilers because, for this post, what I latched onto is not his character arc, but his inherent setting of “an angel”.

“Why are you thinking of an angel”

Well. For starters. I wasn’t thinking about angels at first. I was thinking about his thighs and what he got down there. 

Stay with me. The horniness is fading. The poetry is starting. (shaking you)

Click see below.

No? As if you had a choice.

Jokes on you, I lied. This is less of a poetry and way more of an incomprehensible ramble on why Gabriel is irresistible to me. I hope you enjoy it anyway. <3

Humans are largely made of storytelling and wonder. A desire to strip back layers and layers until a deep, concise answer is found. Then we move on. The study of magic: biochemistry, aerodynamics, fusion physics. We boil the universe down to the barest essentials, then examine some more. We looked inside ourselves: blood, plasma, enzymes. Until we reach the concept of consciousness and suddenly, we are incapable of going further. Attention turned to the sky: planes and rockets; astronomy and “what happened before the Big Bang?” in a child's voice. And we saw that the stars were moving further away from us, faster too, and we thought "we'd have to keep going."

It is at these ends that things become interesting. Never-ending debates of questions that will never be solved because of our inability to go beyond the limits. Reaching the skybox of the universe and unable to do anything more than to speculate what lies further still.

It is no wonder that the thought of an angel captivates man. If it exists, then its nature of being far outside of our observational capability becomes the ultimate lure for artists and scientists alike.

For example, what form would it take? A question of pure speculation, no different than a child's image of aliens. Brainstorming shapes and curvatures and weight in the three-dimensional space, fruitless and fantastical.

An abstract form, perhaps. So abstract that it becomes a type of cosmic horror or a Lovecraftian horror. The burning of eyes, the melting of mind. To lay eyes on it is to condemn yourself to death. Radioactive elephant's foot. We'd try to see it regardless.

A holy being, perhaps. Formed like a man but spills pure light when cut. Would it even cut? What does it mean if the imperfect blade made from the hands of a lowly man had sliced through its skin? Skin? Does it have skin? Like a salamander? Like a leopard? Can a creature’s skin contain the light of god? …Would it leak like a broken puppet? Does it sometimes hate itself like how some of us hate the silhouette of our shadows?

A man, perhaps. Uncertain if it became an angel because the mold of humankind was filled to the brim with divinity, or if it is divine because the pile of carbon assumed the role of an angel. Does it know? Does it wonder? Does it see man in itself, and itself in man? Does it feel lonely to be separated from its lightless siblings that wander the earth freely and sinfully?

And if it is man, as physical as it can be, how close am I to it? …What makes you sacred? Can I see? Can I touch? Can I study your form as millions of humans studied every inch of their world, concrete and abstract? Do you see me as ants? Or family? Would you grieve for me as I have for the songbird?

If I cut you open, will you hold yourself down for me?

Will you forgive me for desecrating you like so?

I think I would be ok with dying by your hand if it is you: let me trade my sight to see you, let me trade my life to touch you. To know you is to cross the limits of the beasts. Sacrilegious.

… And I don’t think you’d allow me to. It’s not in your character. Another angel perhaps, from another story. But I’m thinking of you. And so I can only think, like ancestors before me, and descendants after me. Of the study of magic, of self, of sky.

Of angels.

Truthfully, I’m not a believer in a higher being, never have been, probably never will; but standing on the boundary between life and death and yearning to know the feeling of an angel’s skin under my fingertips are the closest thing to a prayer I have ever experienced. Passion burns; I tend to the fire.

And it’s so regretful that I will never know (because you are an angel) and I will never know (because you are born of fiction) and I am never supposed to know (because to completely understand something or someone is to remove the wonder and hope and passion - like how life without death is timeless and still).

So, this is a love letter of sorts. Because I can’t be the only one craving to know every crease and crevice of this holy being made wearing the same shell as a creature who roams the earth blindly, bumbling, and mad.

------

By the way, please excuse grammar issues. Both my writing in the original post and this one are messy and not thoroughly edited. I just type my brain words out in one setting (partially because uni is in full swing). Sorry if this is on the too-long side of things. I was 700 words into my take on human storytelling before I went: “wait, I’m going way off topic” haha Hope this version is more palatable!

Also just wanna let you know: I just started posting my writing, so your tags were one of the first few that came in and got me really excited! I’m always so happy to read the tags of people who enjoyed my stuff. Thank you!

[walkman-cat]

hands up tell me abt Your star trek au right now!! on the double bro. what are the tensions it all looks too kind & magical i don’t trust it yet

(if it is literally kind & wonderful i am grateful i am thankful i am honored i’d just like to hear more)

-@jack-kellys

i'm ngl my star trek au au is mostly running on vibes wbwbwb so it is pretty kind and happy and warm (i just really like how much everyone in the enterprise's crew has such a respect and care for each other yknow. found family and all that innit).

that being said, here are some funky things about the characters ive been thinking about lately (under a cut because i'm incapable of being concise):

the stars were essentially jack's santa fe. he grew up surrounded by stories of starship captains and space and it became his lifelong dream and ambition to captain a starship, something which he dropped everything to attain. now he is captain of a starship– one of the youngest in starfleet's history– and it's wonderful and fantastic and he's never felt more alive! but there's always something gnawing at the back of his mind (he's based his entire life up until this point around this moment, it was a driving force and a beacon to look up to when times were tough. what if the experience is nothing like his dreams and he ends up disappointed? what happens when the mission's over? what'll become of him?).

also starfleet's assigned him a galaxy-class starship with families onboard and he's having a Time because of it (what if they get hurt under his watch. what if he gives the wrong order and a child dies. starfleet officers know the risks of space travel and are aware of this but the families. the children). other than that he's having a great time !!

kath's half-betazoid on her mother's side, but she never knew her mother nor has she ever been to betazoid (i really went woe! being mixed and only connected to one of your cultures but still being unable to fit in even there because of the fact that you're mixed be upon ye!). she's trying real hard to learn more about betazoid and who her mother is even though she knows she won't really feel like she "belongs" in betazoid either. she's working on understanding and using her empathic/telepathic powers more.

oh also!! pulitzer is a notorious and not-well liked admiral, when kath joined the acedmy she officially had her name changed to plumber and has since told no-one that they're related (this surely won't backfire terribly on her in the future)

also because this is the spot (cat) show, kath loves spot (cat) and wants to babysit her and play with her but alas. she is allergic to cats

race cannot catch a break– he's got a massive losing streak at senior officer poker night, spot (cat) hates him, he can't grow a beard but every time theres an impostor/clone/mirror universe situation the other version of him always has a beard (this is half in jest but also it amuses me wbwb)

jokes aside, i've been having a whole bunch of race as first officer thoughts (and a lot of riker and race parallel thoughts but. that's another story). i don’t really know how to explain it other than the way riker acts in the last episode of tng season two (yes, the riker montage episode) when facing death (joking around and keeping up the appearance of flippancy and courage in the face of agonising death because he’s first officer and there are people who look up to him and he has to set an example) seemed very race and very kony to me, in a way. (youve got this to blame for riker beard race. im not sorry)

race is also one of the first people to advocate for les becoming acting ensign. he makes it very clear that he's in les' corner and makes himself responsible for his studies and sometimes his training (and he teaches him poker).

OH ALSO! sarah and davey didnt know les ws going to be onboard and only found out about his presence after they'd set off. did he sneak onboard?? mayyyybeee (he just really wants to be a starfleet officer). after the initial shock (and notifying their parents) sarah and davey start the Let Les on the Bridge campaign (letting him watch the bridge from the turbolift, helping out in sciences and engineering, etc etc) the that eventually leads to les becoming acting ensign. it reaches a point where most of jack's senior officers would probably mutiny all for this kid.

there's more stuff but i'll stop rambling now because, again, i have a problem with being concise wbwbw. thankyou soso much for the ask rizz once again i love your star trek au so much and am always eager to hear more wbwbw!!! :D

[porchtart]

i have a lot of thoughts just swirling in my head about grief and creativity, but it's very hard to verbalize what i'm thinking in a concise manner. i definitely am feeling very touchy and unhappy these days, and it's bothering me a lot that i've pretty much entirely stopped drawing. i have been writing a lot, which is fantastic - but i miss drawing a lot. i have so many ideas, but every time i pick up a pencil i feel sick. it's fucking miserable. i just want the grief to be done with, but it's not something i can just claw my way out of so easily.

i've been back in therapy too. it's good to have someone to tell about all the stuff going on inside my brain. i have such a hard time opening up to others, even those dearest to me. if you're reading this, sorry i'm so unwell.

i've been pretty much exclusively writing nikolae, which has been wonderful, but it definitely is making me keenly aware of where the pain points are in my life. he's always been a very therapeutic character for me, but he's become that even more so in the last year or so. i found an anonymous response i had given to someone asking survivors who write darkfic about their experiences with it, and reading back the pain that i'm too embarrassed to share as myself was so jarring - especially when i recognized where i was putting that pain into the story we are writing. i'm very grateful to have that writing as an outlet.

i feel like... not necessarily a live wire, but i do feel like i'm not myself lately. i'm so irritable and impatient. i am prickly, unable to live peacefully as myself. i feel like i'm having a crisis of identity. i know that most of it is certainly grief - that doesn't make any of it easier.

i've decided to quit my second job, but i won't be leaving it until early august. i just need to hang on until then, i guess. it will be nice to have my evenings back, no rotating schedules.

[castielsparkle]

hi! I love your web weaving posts. how do you usually go about collecting stuff for a specific web weave? I usually just use two sources, but I want to weave together multiple sources and I don't want to just go on like. google image search. and be unable to find out who actually owns what I'm weaving. you know?

hii!!! first off THANK U SO MUCH!!! that means so much to me that people like my work ahh!! ;__; thank uu!! so! i believe ikwym!! i have been thinking very hard about how to respond to this one eheh bc tbh when i webweave i am. struck with a concept. and then i black out for three hours and suddenly i have a new post on tumblr under the webweaving + spn tags :'). (/j but tbh i rlly do not know how to explain my process coherently so hopefully this will suffice aksjnda<3)

some things that i do that might help!!:

so, first off, i follow a lot of like 'aesthetic' blogs and tags! so accs that post poetry with like, credit attributed to them, and i also follow photography accounts that post stuff w credit that i might use! this one can be kind of. particular! given what you typically want to weave webs abt eheh. i follow tags like nature for example bc a lot of people post stuff i might use in there! the best way id recommend scouting for these is like, if you were to look for perhaps dog photos, going through tags about nature, photography, dogs, canine photography, wildlife, etc. the tumblr acc antiqueanimals is one i rlly like for stuff like that! and then if you find one good blog just going through the accs they rb from, accs recommended that are like them, the tags they use, etc!

another thing! if i have a vague concept or even something i just might wanna expand on, i will write down somewhere (notes app, a private discord channel for keeping things in one place, a google doc etc whatever u wanna use!) keywords, lyrics, quotes, certain episodes of tv etc. they can be whatever really as long as they make sense to u!! i also tend to keep folders of various art (lyrics, quotes, poetry, drawings, photos) w their credit when they 'stick out' to me, and if i cant find the credit then usually saving whatever it is and then reverse image searching online can help really well too!! or searching keywords of the image that might stick out!

also for spn editors in particular!:

also this one is rather tedious however. sometimes i will go through like. the transcripts and just ctrl+f search phrases and stuff akjsnda. lots and lots of google searches w specific keywords however i feel like the link above probably eliminates that, i havent used it for a webweave yet but it looked cool! however the other method i use w the link below \/

i hope this was at least a little helpful!! :' D sorry its very scattered askjnda,, a lot of it is honestly just entering tons of keywords on like,, browser image search + tumblr tags/blogs + pinterest and hoping for the best and reverse image searching stuff to find the source lol. my process is very all over the place so hopefully this is a more understandable concise version of it!!<3 thank u again so so much for the ask have fun webweaving!!!<3

[silversiren1101]

10, 11, and 15 for Mino!

10. Thoughts on Queen Galfrey?

Answered here!

11. Thoughts on tentacles?

Answered here!

15. Your OC’s backstory?

Alright I am going to try and keep this concise...uuuuu maybe. I can't, sorry lol.

4609

Minovae Arangeir was created by the Colorless Lord, the Lord of Paradoxes themselves, Ssila'meshnik. Why? Even the old protean cannot remember why entirely, just that they immediately grew board with this ganzi and dumped her... somewhere in the Material Plane as an infant, and only remembered she existed when she grew interested (mythic power). It was most likely something to do with the paradox of creating a lawfully-inclined protean spawn.

She was found in Westcrown and raised in the orphanage there in 4609, where she was raised... unkindly. Despite always trying her best and having a good sense of rules, anything she did she was punished thrice as harshly for compared to the same mistake and messups of the other kids in the orphanage, simply because she was a ganzi. Desperate to fit in and make friends, somewhere around 10 years old all the kids ran out for the day, and when they came back, she lied and said it was entirely her idea.

That was the first time her tail was cut off as punishment. The matrons did everything they could to try and make her 'normal', to be enticeable for adoption. Her tail heals fast and grew back, which they didn't know would happen (neither did she). Unfortunately the scales peeled off her limbs and feathers torn out so many times scarred over pretty bad, and for most of her childhood->young adult life she did not have her beautiful scales or plumage.

4625

Unable to bear the treatment anymore, she runs away from the orphanage. As she was taught how to sing and dance and play instruments (to make her an enticing child to adopt), she learned she had the potential to be a bard due to the latent magical energy in her as being a ganzi.

She traveled around on the streets, singing and performing for her supper and meagre pocket change.

An adventuring group notices her and invites her to join them, where she first forays into combat and becoming a true adventurer.

All the while, the Chelish Civil War has been raging around her life. She sees the destruction and total chaos happening and it makes her sick to her stomach. As an adventurer she wants to help people that cannot help themselves, and solve the problems that are slipping through the cracks as all the soldiers and Hellknights are too busy to do anything about them.

4630

Her adventuring party is ambushed by a large pack of ghouls in the middle of the night at their camp, pretty close to Citadel Rivad. Rather than fighting them off, her party members leave her beyond to die, to slow the ghouls down, going so far as to slicing one of her heels so she can't run.

Ironically enough, she is the only survivor.

Horribly wounded and riddled with ghoul fever, she dragged herself through the night to Citadel Rivad, where ultimately she pledged herself to the Orders as an armiger. Her whole life has been a mess. She needs direction. She wants to help people. She wants to make the madness of this war and all this fighting end. She wants to fight for those that cannot.

I have even written a little in-universe report for it!

4630 - 4640

Surprising no one, the armiger unit she joins is the one Regill is in, as a young unbleached gnome armiger. He is still quite unemotive and disinterested in things, but just a little bit... brighter. Not as cold.

He is the only one that survives the Trial to become a full Hellknight in his group, and ends up being leader of the unit formed from some other Hellknights and the other armigers who were too new to test (Mino + a dozen more). During the events of the war, she ends up in a solo-fight against a bone devil that Regill witnesses, and declares it a sufficient trial and keeps her conscious long enough for help to arrive. [This is another major scene I can't wait to write: "Do you want to die an armiger? Or live to be a knight, Arangeir? You better hold on."]

She is healed with an overpowered Restoration magic by their paralictor which heals the scarring on her scales and feathers. Waking up three days later to find her feathers have started to regrow after 20 years... It's... terrifying for her at first, because they've been used to hurt her so much. She comes to live with them and then love them.

Mino and Regill fight side by side for 10 HELLISH years of civil war, nearly coming to a fight to the death when the Orders largely endorse House Thrune and she wants to follow the Thorn and Pyre and turn against them. He's the only one that is able to keep her in the Scourge (and from an early death).

Despite the horrors of the war, these are the best years of her life. She is accepted as a dutiful knight, not looked down on for her feathers and scales and tail. People respect her. She's found a family in the Hellknight Orders. She finally feels like she's on the right path and knows what to do with her life.

4640-4644

Mino lives these few years as a Scourgeknight investigator, specializing in hunting down corruption in the aristocracy and rooting out cults.

She adopts a few orphans as Foundlings in the Order, to stay and be cared for at Citadel Demain.

Regill is her closest friend and she realizes she loves him, but says nothing. She knows he will never feel the same way.

4644

Minovae's foundlings go missing. She tracks them down frantically for days until she finds them... mostly dead, used as sacrifices by a diabolic cult led by a younger Thrune. One of them is still alive, Finley, but so far gone and in so much pain she mercifully ends his suffering. What happens next is a maddened slaughter of several dozen aristocrats including a Thrune.

The Thrunes cannot execute her because doing so would shine a spotlight on the crimes committed by the slain one she killed. Instead, the Order of the Glyph reveals themselves and forces her into a powerful Dark Geas ritual powered by the archfiend Geryon: if she doesn't comply they will kill not just her but everyone in the Scourge that works closely with her. She agrees to go through with it, needless to say. The ritual makes it so that if she speaks aloud of what she saw or reveals the existence of the false Hellknight Order of the Glyph, she will explode and kill everyone around her that possibly heard. If anyone pries into those sealed memories, the same will happen.

Wracked by despair of losing her 'kids' and constant fear of what will happen should someone pry into what she saw, she transfers to the Order of the Pyre and leaves to the Worldwound. The last she does that night before she leaves is tell Regill she's sorry, she wishes she could tell him. He believes it's because of him (he knows she loves him even if she hasn't said anything) and apologizes too, says he's known but can't be what she wants him to be. She laughs (for probably the last time) and shakes her head, but asks him if she can "do one selfish thing before I go?" and kisses him on the brow and tells him not to change.

4645

In the Worldwound, Minovae is a dutiful if cold and depressive figure in the Order of the Pyre. Her sunny disposition is completely gone, but she is a GOOD Hellknight and leader. Aminos Renth is her direct superior and they build a good working relationship. He is curious about why she came out all this way but refrains from asking. He sees her as a potential successor.

During the attack that leads to the fall of the Hellknight Outpost, Minovae is kicked off the battlements by an undercover Glyph Knight who sends Thrunes' regards. She survives the fall with a broken spine, but is dragged off by demons to be tortured as their plaything for weeks.

Areelu finds her in their dungeons and sees she still has a spark of defiance in her eyes although her body is totally broken.

The rest is pretty much the game - she is experimented on, the soul is implanted in her, she is kept in stasis before being carried in on a stretcher into Kenebras in 4715AR

I'm sorry she has such an elaborate backstory but how else was I going to justify cold and severe Regill possibly loving someone like her without 80 years of history to back it up

Questions here!

[otaku-tactician]

For the blorbo bingo - any Cu of your choosing? c:

Hello fellow fate fan and Cu enjoyer, thanks for the wonderful ask!! I think I will pick Lancer this time (I'm playing it safe lmao i hope i will be able to be concise and not start screaming incoherently). But also thank you for sharing your Cu theories and analysis with me. I like talking about this guy a lot, but he is absolutely my BLIND SPOT when it comes to understanding!

I apologise in advance if any of my Cu takes are a bit off (a lot of projection can be blamed for this). Also the rambling is extremely long so you can ignore it too. Thanks again!

Note: These are all my personal opinions, not truth (cuz im far from an expert on him)

Cu (Lancer) HAHAHAHA YESSS

This time I am going to be a lot more selfish (extremely selfish) and discuss my personal feelings on the character (which I tend to avoid doing)- based on all the bits I circled. Firstly yeah there is a deep seated reason why I love this character.

It's because well, Cu Chulainn does represent certain qualities that I am obsessed with and yearn deeply for. The way he guards, protects, supports, and takes care of his inner circle is pretty moving. He really cranes out his neck for those that matter to him, and as the white day quiz says; it's like he's kind of a warm blanket as an ally. Just the way he interacts with others in Fuyuki emphasises this, he can be so easy to talk to; he'll offer some great services, and though he can be annoying sometimes, he can be great company too.

Yes I get the people who say Cu is a terrifying warrior- which is especially showcased in how he plays around with weaker opponents/ kills em quickly and talks to them in a friendly yet horrifyingly cold manner concurrently- and he could kill me in my sleep (or anywhere for that matter) BUT he can be so warm as well- or cold- idk he's SEASONAL!!!!!

Yeah, his loyalty is DEFINITELY context dependent (he is a pretty loyal warrior and serves a lord and a friend very well but has had struggles when it comes to loyalty as a lover.... but I tend not to ever talk about that, in fear of pissing off the fans that believe he's a very reliable lover. I'm sorry Cu fans, but I don't quite agree, like YES he can be a good lover but also YES he can fuck up greatly too); but when he cares, he cares deeply and he does his all to be helpful to others- even to the point of self-sacrifice at times-and I really respect that a lot.

Feels like he is a great guy to have as an ally/ friend, which is why I ended up being unable to stop him from becoming MY FAVOURITE GUY OF ALL TIME (sorry gilgamesh).

But there is also a deep seated reason why I hate him so much. I think most of it is just jealousy from the fact that he embraces his role as an outsider, as the one who doesn't quite fit in anywhere; yet is also so popular despite that. I am jealous of his customer service skills, and how he knows so expertly well to craft himself in a way that showcases his best sides to others, and how he isn't afraid to show off his powers. And I am jealous that there are some who see how fucked up he can get, but they still adore him regardless; and he adores them equally too. I AM SO JEALOUS OF CU CHULAINN (especially Lancer) LMAO ITS SO FUNNY I SWEAR TO GOD! Also wtf how dare he rock his blue ponytail and garish clothing and still look sexy I hate it (joking id bang him if he even so much as offered).

And then the next point is I do not like to discuss Cu Chulainn on tumblr (but I LOVE hearing other people's opinions of him). I have witnessed just how mean Cu discourse can get for over 6 years now and it doesn't seem to be improving. However, I have also spoken to many kind and cool Cu fans as well, so the online Cu experience can vary. This is a very unpopular opinion but I LOVE the cute Cu fanarts just as much as the scary ones (cuz its hot i think the duality is SEXY AS FUCK).

But to me the main bit that exhausts me is that it's like I wish there could be a marriage between the different perspectives of this guy, cuz in my opinion I don't really think anyone has gotten him wrong, and it's more like they get him right but maybe certain aspects of him may be more to their particular focus, which is totally fine. I like hearing contrasting takes of Lancer Cu and hope that will continue forevermore.

Like Lancer Cu is full of duality and conflicting and contrasting elements, I believe he just is, y'know. Lancer Cu. But somehow there are loads of tumblr battles about which aspects are more valuable/ less worthy to look at, which REALLY CONFUSES ME!!! And people even sometimes deny Copious Cu Crimes (Cu/CCC) or want to squash out Cute Cu Content (Cu/CCC) which worries me.

(But I am the person who misunderstood his core character for over 6 years, so I admit I used to do this mistake myself. I used to focus so much on his warrior and cold side that I forgot about his affectionate and loving side!)

Why can't warrior cu, adorable cu, scary cu, criminal cu, fucked up cu, mean cu, nice cu, helper cu, loving cu, grumpy ass cu, ruthless cu, perceptive cu, monster cu and funny cu all coexist- please im begging you. And yeah, I also avoid talking about the more negative shenanigans that occurred in certain versions of his myth cuz some of his fans get really angry about it or turn it around to make it seem like I'm the one with a problem for raising it (this actually happened once lmao).

Sorry, I know he did his best to protect his masters in fate and his province as a myth-hero, but the man still also a war criminal in my eyes; through and through. LMAO that is an unpopular take, though. But tbh, I mean if I was a citizen in a holy grail war and Lancer had a master that was like 'hey lancer, drink em for mana' I feel like even if he disapproved, he'd still do it anyway.... That's just how I view him. He can be so wonderful and lovely, but duty comes before all else. That's the vibe he gives me personally. That's why I see his loyalty as context dependent based on individuals involved and the situation itself.

Next yeah, I have unwillingly come around to him because I really did not want to like him at first (I found him intimidating and thought he was wearing a clownsuit at first) but so much for that! Thanks a lot Cu!!! Seriously. One second I was shocked when I witnessed him coldly and ruthlessly kill Shirou on orders and hated on his outfit; next second I was pissing myself with laughter at his banter with Tohsaka Rin- and drooling over that EXACT SAME OUTFIT. How the hell does Lancer Cu even DO THAT? He was just so easy for me to like that I didn't even realise he was my blorbo until I was in deep and I haven't come out since (help me).

Oh gosh it's tough answering every circle. I want to give up! But if he can crack my spine like a crawfish and slurp me up I would likely be grateful. Is this an innuendo or literal though, because if it is literal I will be screaming in pain. But hey, if he's worth it he can slurp my insides anytime (nah i'd cry).

Yeah, my worst mistake and the reason why I struggle so much to characterise Lancer Cu decently is because I have projected so heavily and so MESSILY onto him that I accidentally gave him some of my real life headcanons. And it is so creepy because hopefully me and this guy aren't similar. I mean, I don't think I'm like Lancer Cu at all (most people say I'm like Archer, who I don't really see myself as either). But sorry Lancer Cu, I definitely threw some of my trauma of feeling like an outsider onto you. MY BAD!

Could I make him worse? HAHAHA, YES. Because I can challenge him in terms of ideals (I doubt he'd take me seriously though), and could very easily piss him off. I think my personality is definitely an antithesis to his, maybe I'm even his opposite. Because he's like 'ENJOY THE MOMENT, KEEP BALLING EVEN IF YOUR LIFE IS SHIT, OVERCOME AND ADAPT TO SUFFERING' and he does that very well, even when things knock him to the floor he keeps going (but then in turn runs away from certain issues and struggles to share his traumas).

But I could probably piss him off by saying 'IM BALLING AND OVERCOMING THINGS LIKE YOU BUT THE SUFFERING ISNT FUCKING ENDING AND THE PAIN IS GETTING WORSE THIS IS BULLSHIT' is that a clown 2 clown communication???? I have no idea. I bet he'd hate me for saying that though but that's okay, maybe he'd simply brush me off- but if he was a debate guy I would debate him!

Yeah the pretty privilage, he is a really beautiful man. That's all. He is so beautiful- stunning, even. TT-TT Super pretty. Doesn't help that his personality is interesting as well. Maybe I am just obsessed with him?? And yeah, he is kinda the white noise in my brain, he infiltrates my own actions and life choices by a great deal, I often think sometimes 'HEY WHAT WOULD LANCER CU DO? HOW WOULD HE REACT?' to even the simplest things and start laughing, or someone can remind me of him and I start laughing, or I think 'oh damn wish i could talk to him' I am like the PARASOCIAL FAN! HELP!!!! Also I think about him at random times. Lately, I have become more normal(?) about him but all it takes is 1 thing and he's back in my brain full time again.

Yeah, he is very complex and well written in my personal opinion. I think Nasu and the crew have done really well. I love how great a job they've done of making him seem like an annoying bawdy loud man as well as an incredibly intelligent, perceptive and agile warrior at the same time (and then he can even be bashful too). He a great character, he has so much nuances like a real human being so he gets a 10/10 from me. One personal example I have is that I used to think Cu was ALWAYS the happy loud funny annoying flirt guy off the job, until I started seeing scenes in anime like Emiya Gohan which showcases how no actually he also can be quiet sometimes and enjoy a bit of time alone, or needs time to disengage and cool off by himself.

I mean I don't usually even notice these aspects of characters. But with Lancer Cu, I constantly have to re-learn how to appreciate him because of how varied his character is.

Yeah I got the brainrot, but it's the brainrot of constantly having to readjust the way in which I view him. And the extreme brainrot I get whenever I start going bazongas about his hotness. I keep my Lancer Cu horny thoughts to myself for that reason lmao, I mean I have a crapload of suppressed horny thoughts so i think its horny brainrot in regards to him :)

Idk... I am biting my fist? The more appearances, the better. I am glad he is popular = more canon and fanon content.

As for putting him in situations, I would say stop but .... it's kind of entertaining. But I'd like to see him win a grail war someday. ALSO THOUGH THE WHOLE BAZETT STORY IS SO SAD BRUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH i pray for an alternate saga where Cu and Bazett remain master/servant for the whole war cuz I'd cry if that happened and enshrine it my heart 4eva. I forgot my point for this part now....

For the next one, I used to need Lancer Cu in this way. It was an extremely unhealthy and scary time in my life to be frank. It took me through a journey where I had to confront some very personal issues and traumas. SO THANK YOU LANCER CU FOR FORCING ME TO FACE MY TRAUMAS!!!! Cuz yeah when I say I used to rely heavily on this blorbo to live.... my god. Yeah. It was not a good time. Hahahaha... yeah it was the worst time ever. It took me a long time to even admit he was my blorbo, cuz of all the issues it unleashed in my own personal life.

I AM NOT NORMAL ABOUT HIM AT ALL! I PROJECTED MY MENTAL ILLNESSES ONTO LANCER AND THEN HAD TO CONFRONT AND BETTER MYSELF TO OVERCOME THEM AND ENJOY HIM THE WAY I DO TODAY! THATS WHY I SAY IT SUCKS THAT ITS SO HARD TO FEEL SAFE AND COMFY WHEN SHARING CU POSTS ON THE INTERNETS! I WISH THAT THERE CAN BE LANCER CU STUFF FOREVER AND ALSO MY VIEWPOINTS ON HIM ARE EXTREMELY BIASED AND SUBJECTIVE BECAUSE HE IS MY FAVORITE GUY OF ALL TIME SO I ACCIDENTALLY PROJECTED ONTO HIM AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

also he is so fucking hot too WHYYYYYYYYY THIS IS JUST I- WHAT WHY UGH AND IM SO JEALOUS OF HIM AND HIS GENDER AND ITS SO UNFAIR THAT I LIKE HIM SO MUCH!!!! I AM SO GRATEFUL AND SO ANGRY!

[justplainwhump]

4 for tyler

When scared, does your OC fight, flee, freeze or fawn? (from this ask game)

Oh this is a very good question, as in, I am somehow unable to answer it. Firstly, he just isn't usually scared. He's tall and muscular and pretty chill, and he just doesn't find himself in situations that would scare him.

I would generally say, flee. Not outright run, depending on the situation, but just like, getting himself out of it. Second option, fight, because that seems like the appropriate thing to do in his worldview. However, while he may be rather strong, he isn't a good fighter at all. So that approach won't get him far.

These are the general responses however; facing the bigger, more chilling and constant fear that has been creeping into his life in the form of his scary employer, it's, in fact, fawn (too long) - fight (too late) - freeze.

I'm sorry this is probably not as concise a reply as you were hoping for, but I still had fun thinking about it - thank you so much for asking!!

[seafoamwoman]

incapable of recording a speech for my class that is under the time limit of 7 mins. Sorry ur getting 9 mins pls dont kill me I just am unable to be concise.

[theskymahtin]

Been thinking lately about how much I love podcasts because, like.... they exist Completely outside of any corporation or network or whatever that exists soley to make money. They can be produced and published and grow in popularity, all without some bigger entity interfering with the original intent at all. Take The Magnus Archives, for example. The Magnus Archives is a podcast (distributed by Rusty Quill and licensed under--) that literally started out being made in someone's apartment underneath a blanket, voiced by one guy and a bunch of his friends and family, and it was able to become insanely popular and end up being produced in an actual studio building all while staying under the direction of the same few people who conceptualized it originally. If TMA was a TV show, it would've had to be picked up by a network or something in order to be produced at all and feasibly garner any kind of traction and it would now be susceptible to the will of an entirely new set of people. This would allow for it to potentially be stripped of all of the representation that's in it as well as facing the possibility of being canceled prematurely, plus I'm sure it would've lost a lot of it's original intent and the depth of thought thats put into it because big networks and corporations care about appealing to the masses, which means that everything should adhere to a formula, apparently. (Not to mention that podcasts as a medium just allow for whole new ways of telling a story altogether.) It just enables so much more creative freedom. And!! The people who consume podcasts don't even have to pay for them (although, of course, supporting the creators is encouraged and vital to them actually being able to continue-- but you arent required to pay anything to listen). This means that they're accessible to anyone who has access to the internet and that the all of people involved are there because they care about the story itself. Like... they're just stories for the purpose of being stories and there's no red tape preventing them from being produced and no corporation telling them that they can't have that many LGBT characters or that they have to compromise their ideas for the sake of mass appeal or anything else. I just thinks it's really cool and it's a refreshing in a world where the media is so saturated with things produced by organzations like Disney: the literal definition of media controlled by corporate greed.

[vexederolo]

Uhmm - happy birthday!

I hope you you had as nice a day as possible to this point, even if Imodna didn't become canon in CR just yet, and that you got a chance to rest for a while. Here's to your "new year" bringing more rest and peace of mind overall!

awww anon thank you so much, you definitely made me smile you're so sweet 🥺🥺 I really appreciate it! and yeah, my day has been pretty good so far, got to finally rest from work and watching the cr3 ep was great even if we didn't get imodna canon lol (i do appreciate the mention tho sdnjfdkjsd, and yeah yet is the key word. hopefully xD they did have some nice scenes tho). And i'm gonna play some harry potter board game with friends now which is fun :D And yeah again thank you so much, also i'm a bit taken aback by you knowing it's my bday dfjkndfjks but i guess i did mention it while rambling in some of my tags, just didn't think anyone actually reads them xD so yeah that was really nice of you to send an ask about it, hope you have a great day too :')