#soup query

[revivisection]

TRICK OR TREAT 👻 also seizing this opportunity to say I adore Cosmas and your art!!

THANKS ^_^ and for that…

YOU GET: homoeroticism

[yuriartillery]

isn't "yuri artillery" kinda a redundant phrase?

the repetition is for emphasis. let it not be said that i do not make my convictions clear

[bookwyrminspiration]

Wait are there fat elves? Or is it a lotr terminally skinny thing? It's been so long since I read kotlc that I cannot remember any descriptions

Cuz like. If they're just bones they wouldn't have much nutritional value but if they can have fat and muscle they may be more nutrient dense than a human

So basically like. Is it standardized (eg 6ft 200lb elf vs 6ft 200lb human) or random elf vs random human

Supposedly there are fat elves, though we have yet to actually meet any.

At Alvar's trial, Shannon describes the Vacker family as having, "every hair color, skin color, feature shape, and body type" (Flashback 17). It's not elaborated on further or brought up again.

Anyway, my thought was standardizing the comparison. Do elves inherently have some beneficial extra vitamins and minerals in them, something humans don't have? Would a human be able to eat an elf without the complications preventing us from safely eating another human? Many such queries

[legiterallylunar]

not to lifepost but actually being a quaker is so good for the soup guys

[bad-science]

I would like to have my circulatory system or nerves system [or both] stolen

Mmmmmmm spag hetti………

[simdertalia]

🍽 🥢 ACNH Big Food Set 6 🍽 🥢

Sims 4, base game compatible | 60 items | Some extra items & swatches added by me 💗 I hope you enjoy!

Always suggested: bb.objects ON, it makes placing items much easier. For further placement tweaking, check out the TOOL mod.

Use the 0,9 keyboard feature to raise items or lower them

Use the scale up & down feature on your keyboard to make the items larger or smaller to your liking. If you have a non-US keyboard, it may be different keys depending on which alphabet it uses.

Download below, all in a zip file or pick & choose!

Set contains: -Birthday Cake | 6 swatch | 1377 poly -Birthday Cream Puffs | 7 swatches | 1004 poly -Birthday Drink Bottle | 3 swatches | 184 poly -Birthday Drink Cup | 11 swatches | 84 poly -Birthday Jam Jar | 6 swatches | 212 poly -Birthday Place Setting | 6 swatches | 224 poly -Birthday Table | 6 swatches | 628 poly -Bread | 2 swatches | 358 poly -Cake 1-3 (3 items)  | 4 swatches each | 56, & 206 poly -Cake Display Case BGC | 9 swatches | 226 poly -Cake Slice 1 & 2 (2 items) | 4 swatches each | 18, & 38 poly -Cake Stand BGC (2 items, cake sized and mini sized for 1 treat) | 14 swatches each | 138 poly each -Celery | 2 swatches | 373 poly -Cupcake | 5 swatches | 144 poly -Imperial Bowl | 1 swatch | 98 poly -Imperial Bowl Stack 1-2 (2 items) | 1 swatch each | 290, & 386 poly -Imperial Chopsticks 1 & 2 (2 items) | 1 swatch each | 26 poly each -Imperial Chopsticks in Glass | 1 swatch | 188 poly -Imperial Dining Chair | 2 swatches | 1224 poly -Imperial Table | 2 swatches | 552 poly -Imperial Dipping Sauce | 4 swatches | 56 poly -Imperial Door | 6 swatches | 282 poly -Imperial Dumplings (steam & non-steam versions) | 1 swatch each | 234 poly each -Imperial Fence | 3 swatches | 408 poly each -Imperial Lobster Dish (steam & non-steam versions) | 1 swatch each | 908 poly each -Narezushi Dish | 1 swatch | 254 poly -Imperial Painting | 10 painting images, 3 frame colors, 30 total swatches swatches | 46 poly -Imperial Plate | 1 swatch | 74 poly -Imperial Plate with Chopsticks 1-3 (3 items, chopsticks in different positions) | 1 swatch each | 98 poly each -Imperial Plate Stack 1 & 2 (2 items) | 1 swatch each | 866, & 434 poly -Imperial Shrimp Dish (steam & non-steam versions) | 1 swatch each | 168 poly each -Imperial Side Dish | 2 swatches | 92 poly -Imperial Soup Bowl Large & Small (4 total items: steam & non-steam versions of both) | 1 swatch each | 382 poly each -Imperial Table Oils | 1 swatch | 590 poly -Imperial Takeout Menus | 12 swatches | 184 poly -Imperial Teapot (steam & non-steam versions) | 1 swatch each | 330 poly each -Imperial Tofu Dish (steam & non-steam versions) | 1 swatch each | 130 poly each -Imperial Wall Lantern (glows at night) | 8 swatches | 1760 poly -Imperial Zodiac Placemat | 5 swatches | 12 poly -Jar Anchovies | 1 swatch | 338 poly -Jar Vegatables | 1 swatch | 431 poly -Sugarcane | 1 swatch | 190 poly -Sugarcane Plant | 1 swatch | 645 poly

Type “acnh big food set 6" into the search query in build mode to find  quickly. You can always find items like this, just begin typing  the title and it will appear.

📁 Download all or pick & choose (SFS, No Ads): HERE

(For now the SFS link is pick & choose only, due to website issues. I will upload the zipped file with all of the items in it once SFS calms down. It's been having major problems on and off lately with timing out in the middle of uploading anything larger than 1500 MB. The Mega mirror link below has a zipped folder.) It's there now!

📁 Alt Mega Download (still no ads): HERE

📁 Download on Patreon

Will be public on February 7th, 2025 💗 Midnight CET

Happy Simming! ✨ Some of my CC is early access. If you like my work, please consider supporting me (all support helps me with managing my chronic pain/illness & things have been rough as of late):

★ Patreon  🎉 ❤️ |★ Ko-Fi  ☕️  ❤️ ★ Instagram📷

Thank you for reblogging ❤️ ❤️ ❤️

@sssvitlanz  @maxismatchccworld @mmoutfitters  @coffee-cc-finds  @itsjessicaccfinds  @gamommypeach  @stargazer-sims-finds  @khelga68  @suricringe  @vaporwavesims  @mystictrance15 @moonglitchccfinds @xlost-in-wonderlandx @jbthedisabledvet

Other CC: -Biotope Planter

More corresponding CC: -Fortune Cookies Set-Chinese Takeout Set-Harmonious Set 1-Harmonious Set 2

[rottenpumpkin13]

Challenge: Country Boy Life Habits That Can’t Be Shaken

Featuring: Angeal, Genesis

Statement: Thank you for answering my last ask.

Initial Query: Do you think Genesis plays guitar?

Absolutely Genesis plays guitar. But not better than Angeal, who learned from his dad (Genesis' primary instrument is the flute). But that doesn't stop them from dueting like it's second nature. Like two aging cowboys out in the wild west. Which brings us to:

• Campfire songs at SOLDIER when it rains. You think Commander Rhapsodos is all elegance and poetic mystique, until the power cuts out during a thunderstorm and you catch him and Angeal in a circle with acoustic guitars hollering " 🎶 Back in Banora where the apples grow fat an' the mako runs thin—"

• Angeal still says "she'll hold" when strapping down equipment with whatever string he finds. Genesis once used a belt to hold together his sword sheath mid-mission and said "This is how real men do it." (the belt was red leather and sparkly).

• Calls everything by Banoran nicknames nobody understands. Once Genesis said a malfunctioning SOLDIER comm was "hissin' like a shinderbug on a fencepost." Sephiroth asked what that meant. Genesis said "You know, it's when somethings a real cracklebox." Zack once tried to log their phrases in a field report and Tseng redacted the entire document.

• Genesis has old-man gripes despite being in his 20s. His back allegedly hurts every time it rains. He stands up from chairs when he's alone like he's got seventy years of bone trauma in his knees. He once refused to jump off a platform because "I'm not eighteen anymore, Angeal."

• Banoran weather lore. Angeal taps his knee and says "Storm's comin'. Felt it in my scar." Zack asked what scar. Angeal just squinted off into the distance like a seasoned rancher watching a twister roll in.

• Knife guy behavior. Angeal has at least three knives on him at all times: one for rope, one for fruit, one "just in case." Genesis carries one, but it's absurdly fancy, has his name etched into the hilt, and he's used it to stir soup like it's a ladle.

• Hyper-specific survival hacks that don't help anyone else. Angeal can fashion a fish trap out of broken rations and shirt thread. Genesis swears rubbing apple peel on your boots "makes 'em waterproof" (it doesn't).

[natalieironside]

Now that Google has ceased to function as a search engine, and the results of queries elsewhere are still full of procedurally-generated nonsense articles, and the well has been poisoned by an infinite chain of pop authors and history podcasters repeating each other and citing each other's lies, and the whole Internet from soup to nuts is being enclosed and partitioned with archive sites in particular under scrutiny and attack, I feel real real good about my decision to keep lugging around my reference library.

[dylan-hayes]

The Hide-and-Poop Phase: Is Your Little Ready for Diapers?

I'm engrossed in the whirring world of my toy car racetrack, the vibrant red one tearing through imaginary circuits with an exhilarating "Vroom! Vroom!" The friction of its tiny wheels against the carpet creates a symphony of playtime, each noise punctuating the thrill of the chase. But suddenly, amidst the cacophony of make-believe engines, I feel a strange sensation in my tummy, like a butterfly fluttering nervously.

I pause, mid-race, my brows furrowing as I consider this new feeling. It's not unpleasant, exactly, but it's unfamiliar enough to warrant concern. I glance around the playroom, my sanctuary filled with an alphabet soup of colorful toys, each one vying for attention yet offering no solution to my predicament.

My eyes dart towards the promise of seclusion behind the couch, a dark cavern where the sunlight dares not tread. It's my secret lair, a hideaway where I can retreat from the endless questions of grown-ups - "Mason, are you hungry?" "Mason, do you need a nap?" "Mason, have you seen your other sock?"

I tiptoe towards my hiding spot, clutching my red car like a lifeline. The shadows embrace me as I crouch down, the cool air whispering secrets of old adventures past. Here, I am invisible, a tiny conspirator against the world's endless queries.

But this time, something is different. My tummy rumbles, and I feel a strange pressure building, like a dam about to burst. I scrunch up my face, squeezing my eyes shut as if that could hold back the inevitable. It feels like trying to push through a tiny straw, a task that requires every ounce of concentration.

Just when I think I've mastered this new skill, I hear it - the dreaded sound of approaching footsteps. My heart pounds in my chest like a kick drum, each beat echoing my fears. Mama is on the prowl, and I can feel her eyes scanning the room, searching for me.

I hold my breath, willing myself to become one with the shadows. But it's no use. The creaking of the floorboards gives me away, followed by that familiar, slightly amused tone, "Mason, are you going poopy in here?"

[revivisection]

so uuummm my rt appreciation asks are gonna be super late for everyone because you're only my second victim thus far........

so BRO. BRO. you are LITERALLY so cool. i hope i've made it very clear already that your art and ideas and characters and gahh EVERYTHING--is just SO SOSO GOOD. you're INSANELY talented and INSANELY creative.

and you're also like really nice and really funny too?? crazy. i LOVE yapping about your lad, you always have something rlyrly fun to reveal about him. and you showing any interest in my own blorbo, despite my neurotic avoidant behaviour, is (0///0) aksjrfjfjfj------

i hope u know whenever i say "OMG IM FREAKING OUT" about something you've said, posted, etc i am not exaggerating at all. it's a pleasure to share a fandom with you.

...........this ask definitely wasn't a way to distract u while my minions sap ur artistic talent for me to use.............

AHHHHH thank youuuuuuu :33333

many of the things i say are done in pursuit of making myself laugh i am #amusementmaxxing always n i'm soglad that other ppl find me funny too. if an idea makes me laugh or evil grin that's a sign it's good. the funniest or most believably fucked up thing (which are often one in the same) is often what i go with. because it's whammer. what's even the point if you don't get funnytragic with it.

i too am incredibly neurotic and avoidant i get it i do. it's your fault for making a guy that's so attractive to me everything you say about misha makes me want him more. cosmas x misha may be relegated to #friendship but misha x ME. now.

your enthusiasm for my guy FUELS ME love to present things for you to analyze makes me feel like ive got something concrete going on something coherent like i've got Things to say (PERHAPS I DO. impossible to make a character like cosmas and have nothing to say with it is the thing) I APPRECIATE YOUR MIND SO MUCH!!!!!! I LOVE THEMES!!!!!!!!!!!

soso glad that i pounced on that post of yours because our convos are a lot of fun and you GET IT goooodddd you get it…. problematic transgenderism makes the world go round (or at least it makes the tumblr blogger very happy). honestly i would not say i am very active in the fandom itself im shyyyy i find like one or two freaks on my exact wavelength and that's it that's all i need thank you for being one of two freaks

[camera pans out from my computer screen to show me haggard and emaciated looking] wow what a nice message i hope nothing happened to me while i was replying to it

[yuriartillery]

so what's the plan if the frontline moves somewhere else? just pick up the machine gun nests and barbed wire and minefields and move them?

Yes that's more or less the plan. I mean we probably gotta pack up the machine guns I guess but I think there isn't really a problem with leaving the rest of that behind. And the maid-sappers love refortifying and entrenching so it's basically nice.

[bookwyrminspiration]

ok but can we consider the possibility of Keefe having what is effectively Schrödinger's abs? When only he can see them, he's in a quantum superposition of having visible abs and no abs at all. But that's why Sophie doesn't have a comment about his physique because when she looks at it, there's no visible abs (or abdominal system.)

I would therefore like to argue that the Elvin community is also split about Keefe's abs. This is because upon uncovering them, some may see his abs (which are very visible, as we've established elves have a lot of abs) but others see nothing.

This is also a nightmare for Fitz, who still has to puppeteer Keefe for his lack of abdominal muscles. The two of them are the only ones who know the truth.

Okay hang on I'm trying to follow here. So you're saying Keefe has no abdominal muscles (he's soup, which Fitz is puppeting, as earlier established). But some people see very visible abs when looking at him. Is that like. a genetic mutation? some elves mutated specifically to see abs that Keefe does not have? and this is also a topic of debate in the lost cities?

Where do the imaginary abs come from--are Keefe and Fitz faking abs as he's being puppeted to try and throw people off the trail? Is Keefe drawing them on? Ah, but that doesn't account for some seeing it and others not

Well, that's assuming one person can see and another can't at the same time--like they both look at the same time and see different things. What if he only sometimes draws abs on to distract from his souped condition, and the whole debate is just between people who saw him on different days (some when he'd drawn them, some when he hadn't bothered).

Forget what the Neverseen are up to, Fitz and Keefe are running the con of the millennia here

[druidwolf21]

Neran pt 2.

A/N: written for my boo @thisuserislilsilly

Go check out their work!! ♥️♥️

Tw: none, fluffy

"I am not sure I understand what I am watching"

Neran sat next to you, leaning forward slightly with a soft frown as he stared at the flickering screen.

"Why does she not clearly communicate her thought process as opposed to wailing like this?"

You rolled your eyes and paused the movie, the still image of the woman fuzzing at the edges.

"It's an opera. It's supposed to be dramatic and poetic." You froze and turned to him slowly.

"You do know that people don't actually do this right?"

The primarch shrugged, rolling his massive shoulders as he lent back in the chair.

"I am not so ill informed as to believe baselines break into song. I mearly do not understand how any of this is conducive to a satisfactory ending"

Flicking the screen off with a sigh, you rose from your own seat.

"Sometimes it's not about a good ending. Sometimes we like to watch something that makes us angry, or sad"

Neran finally looked at you, coal black eyes almost bottomless. He watched you silently as you turned from him and picked up a dataslate, tapping away on the screen.

"You .... Want to be sad?"

You grinned, not looking up as you ran your finger across the tablet.

"Sometimes yeh. Don't ask me to explain, it's just something we do"

Returning to your seat next to him you rolled your head back with a groan, spreading your arms across the back of your sofa. Your private chambers were exactly small, but having a primarch in there with you seemed to compress the walls around you.

"Maybe opera was a bad choice for you. Not everyone even likes it. I sure as hell don't." Dragging a palm down your face, you glanced over at him, a shiver crawling up your spine when you found him wordlessly staring at you.

"It's ok, we'll try something else-"

A soft knock on your door interrupted you. A serf stepped through a moment later, head lowered as she stepped forward with a silvered tray.

"Just over here is fine" you parted the cushion next you.

The serf nodded, placing the platter down and shooting a terrified glance at Neran before bolting from the room.

"Yeh we need to do something about your face. We can't have your chapter serfs treating you like the night haunter"

"..... What is wrong with my face"

".... Just try one of these"

You lifted the tray up towards him. On it rested two bowls, one filled with ripe red berries and the other filled with a brown viscous liquid.

"What is this?"

"Strawberries. Oh and chocolate."

"Is it ... Soup?"

You almost dropped everything as you wheezed

"No just pick one up, dip it and bite, it's easy."

You popped the tray down on a small side table before picking up a strawberry and sipping into the rich sauce, tapping the excess off before lifting it to your mouth and biting down.

Neran tilted his head, watching as a trickle of juice drip along your lips. You smiled at him and picked up another berry, dipping it into chocolate and holding it up to him.

"aaaaaahh.." you opened your mouth, gesturing for him to imitate.

Reluctantly the primarch opened, allowing you to pop the fruit onto his tongue. His eyes remained locked to yours as he slowly chewed.

"Good?" You queried.

His jaw worked slowly before he swallowed.

"It is...... Sweet"

"And? Did you enjoy it?"

"It was not an unpleasant experience"

"Tell that to your face then" you sighed exasperated as his expression remained unchanged, his pale skin uncreased by so much as a smirk.

"you wish for me to talk to my face?"

Your hands shot up to your face as you groaned.

"It's a turn of phrase. It means you're telling me one thing, but acting another way"

"Acting? Like the Opera"

"You are impossible"

Sulking, you slouched in your seat, grabbing another strawberry and tossing it into your mouth, Chewing slowly.

"You are.....irritated?"

"Just... Try again and this time, if you like it, try letting your body react as well"

Neran opened his mouth expectantly and you blinked. Shaking yourself and laughing slightly, you pointed at the bowl.

"you can do it yourself"

The primarch copies what you had done, mechanically repeating the process; berry, chocolate, mouth.

The solticence closed his eyes, rolling the fruit over his tongue before biting. Focusing on the way the skin burst and juice flooded his mouth, sweet but mixing with the slightly bitter chocolate.

When he opened his eyes, he found you watching expectantly.

"Well?"

He paused for a moment. Focusing on the way your small smile curled into your cheeks, he copied you, twitching a muscle in his jaw his lips turning up slightly.

"It is.... Good"

You beamed, clapping slightly and giggling at his response. Neran felt an unfamiliar twinge in his chest as you lent forward over the arm of the sofa and placed your hand against his knee.

"Ah that's it!! That was a reaction! Amazing, good job!"

Good ... Job?

Words he'd never heard before. They bounced around inside his mind, causing his chest to constrict. A new, but not unpleasant feeling.

Say it again. I want to hear you say it again.

"may I.....have another?"

"Ah! Yes yes absolutely here! Have them all!" You pushed the table towards him.

"It tasted better..... When you did it"

Neran stared at your hand, still resting on his leg before dragging his focus up to your face.

"Will you..... Give me another?"

[trekbait]

You’ve NEVER considered this VACATION HOTSPOT!

With the news of a supernova threatening the Romulan homeworld, the Romulan Star Empire has started to open up its borders in a way that was previously unthinkable. With the planet’s days numbered, this is a vacation opportunity you don’t want to miss! However, let’s not pretend that a trip behind the neutral zone is now a holiday on Risa. The economy is collapsing in the face of armageddon and Romulans do not let their guard down easily. So we checked out the planet to see what you can expect from a holiday to this grey world.

Where to Stay

We were met planetside by our guides, Caidee and Kyuvok, who followed us everywhere during our stay. We stayed in the only hotel open to non-Romulans, situated in the capital inside a walled compound under heavy guard. Starfleet had told us to expect that our rooms would be bugged but hanging from the ceiling were very obvious surveillance devices that followed us around as we moved. We took this in our stride and began greeting them each morning.

Inside the hotel, we enjoyed a single Romulan restaurant. It was vast, but mostly empty aside from a handful of Starfleet personnel working on evacuation preparations. The restaurant’s single fixed menu (starring a grey-looking soup) got a little repetitive after a week but any visits to restaurants in the city proper were deemed unnecessary. Our guides explained that this restaurant was clearly the best that Romulan cuisine had to offer and mingling with the locals would be distracting to us. They also said that their food demonstrates Romulan ingenuity and self-reliance; they proudly don’t import a single grain and certainly don’t dabble in non-Romulan cuisines.

Tomb to the Glorious Dead

Caidee and Kyuvok ensured we had a full itinerary for our trip, starting with paying homage to the military dead; many of whom we were told died gloriously in battles with the Federation, Klingon Empire and various barbarian worlds. Kyuvok provided us with a bouquet of flowers to leave at the base.

The monument itself is a group of Romulan centurions in 23rd century uniforms carrying an imperial banner. The figures are besieged by rather barbarous and demonic-looking figures I was told represented Federation corruption. It was a little hard to make out the details as the monument is around half a kilometre high and we were viewing it from the base but I’m told the detail on the faces is the most intricate in the galaxy and carved entirely by Reman “volunteers” (note: the guides do not understand the use of air quotes for sarcasm so feel free to use them liberally in conversation).

Imperial Theatre

After that, we saw a play at the Imperial Theatre about how the Romulan Senate bravely defeated the rebel Shinzon and his Federation allies. I queried Caidee on the accuracy of these events but she assured us that Romulans would have a far better understanding of these events considering how oppressed Federation subjects are only fed propaganda by Vulcans. 

It was interesting to note that many of the people in the audience looked very similar to each other and moved to clap in perfect synchronicity. Kyuvok dismissed the idea that the seats were padded out with holograms and it merely demonstrated how Romulans were in perfect sync as a single, perfect society.

Caidee offered a recording of the play to take home. I suggested we could trade holonovels; her eyes lit up at our description of Captain Proton. Alas, after a glare from Kyuvok she explained that Romulans have no need for corrupt Federation stories. It’s at this point we realised why we had two guides for such a small group. 

The Firefalls

On the third day, we asked Caidee to take us to see the firefalls at Gal Gath'thong. After a loud “debate” with the Tal Shiar officers stationed outside our rooms, Caidee announced gleefully that they’d love to show us. The shuttle had its windows blacked out and seemed to make so many course corrections we could have sworn we’d circled the entire planet before arriving at our destination. 

The falls indeed were magnificent, even if we had to view them through a chainlink fence in a small supply compound a kilometre away. We wish we could show you, but all our holo-imagers were confiscated on arrival along with all our communicators. We did however catch a glimpse of someone outside the fence being chased by uniformed officers. 

We were told by Caidee, as she hurried us back into the shuttle, that it was a Vulcan spy. Vulcan spies appear to be everywhere in Romulan society and are responsible for everything that goes wrong; Caidee says it’s common knowledge that the supernova is a Vulcan plot against the Romulan people because of their deep-seated jealousy ever since Romulans left Vulcan. 

The Tal Shiar Museum

The following day it looked like Caidee had been replaced by a different Romulan, but Kyuvok assured us Caidee was still Caidee and had just changed her hair to one of the alternate state-sanctioned looks. There are 5 haircuts allowed on Romulus and anyone deviating from them is usually suspected of being a Vulcan spy.

That proved to be a suitable segway as Kyuvok and new-hair Caidee decided we should see The Tal Shiar Museum. This exhibition outlined the work the Tal Shiar does to ensure the safety of every Romulan against galactic threats. Displays condemned traitors and spies who the Tal Shiar have executed to keep the people safe, including M’ret, Toreth, Jean-Luc Picard and Spock. We asked Kyuvok about how Picard could have been killed when he made a speech to the Romulan Senate recently. This, apparently, is a Federation lie because Picard was killed by the Tal Shiar in 2365, 2369 and 2379.

Conclusion

Romulus is still fairly closed and sadly we couldn’t talk our guides into a trip to the palatial Senate building or anywhere else exciting. But when they returned our equipment to us as we left we found they had filled our holo-imagers with picturesque landscapes and historic buildings we didn’t even know existed. So they were at least gracious enough to give us a slideshow to share! 

We did of course hand all our gear to a Starfleet liaison to remove the tracking software that had been installed.

It may not be Casperia Prime, but it looks like Romulus is only around for a few more years so best book your trip today! After all, the rate at which they put Federation visitors on trial for espionage has dropped 13% in the last year so you're safer than ever.

[nana-71926]

Author's Notes: Aaand here's the next chapter. Brian is a riddle that Roger is determined to get to the bottom of. Enjoy! XD

Excerpt:

May 1865

“It’s getting late,” Roger said, slowly rising from his seat, “and I am keeping you from your rest. I hope you have been sleeping well lately, my friend?”

He was pleased to see color flood Brian’s wan cheeks. “Very well, thank you,” Brian replied, reluctantly leading the way through the narrow passageway to the door. “I’ve been having good dreams lately.”

Roger smiled as Brian looked away, suddenly unable to meet his gaze. “That is good. You ought to rest as much as you can to get your strength back.”

Brian’s answering smile gave way to a look of consternation as he opened the front door. “Oh,” he said at the thick, swirling fog. “Oh, no.”

“No matter,” said Roger bracingly. “It’s just a slight mist which will lift in no time. I can find my way home.”

“It’s as thick as pea soup,” Brian protested, dismayed. “You can’t go out there. There might be wolves, or…or something worse.”

Roger would have laughed at the thought of something worse than he, lurking in the dark.

“Stay,” pressed Brian, the urgency of the situation lending him some eloquence. “Stay the night. Here. With me.”

“Are you sure?” Roger queried, brow furrowed. “I do not want to be a bother—”

“You are no bother,” said Brian quickly, growing bolder under Roger’s gaze. “Stay with me.”

Roger gave him his small, sharp smile and said graciously, “Alright. If you insist.”

Buy the Muse some ko-fi to show her some love (and to make her write faster!) ^_~

[asa-do-your-thing]

The rainbow trout

Robb Stark x Frey Reader 18 + MINORS DNI WC: 5,1k Warnings: forced marriage, mentions death, alcohol, dubcon, angst

You knew you weren't his first choice. You also knew what would happen, should Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, not accept your hand, so you did everything in your power to convince him to marry anyone of your female relatives. You sent him coded messages, diguised yourself and warned his pregnant lady... You did everything in your might to persuade him.

That was why it hurt you even more that when he came to the Twins and told you all to stand in a big semi circle ordered by your ages - you stood almost at the farthest end, having only just flowered - and he walked over to your aunts and older cousins, all past the ages of five and twenty. Everything within you itched to call out to him - King of the North, 'tis I who saved you!

But Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, was a man known for his honor and duty. He gave each woman a polite nod, exchanged pleasantries and, with a hint of discomfort in his eyes, moved along the line. You watched him as he went from your eldest aunt, Lady Amarei, a stout woman with greying hair and a face that had lost the battle with age long ago; to your cousin Alyx, then onto Waldene and Wylda - all older than you by several years and already mothers to their own broods, though you supposed it was pleasing for him to see their fertility.

The air in the Great Hall was thick with expectation as the Young Wolf made his way down the line of eligible Frey women. The flickering light from the hundreds of candles gave an ethereal glow to the scene, casting dancing shadows along stone walls adorned with the ancient heraldry of House Frey. The wheels of your father's great wooden chair creaked as he shifted his weight, watching his potential son-in-law examine his flock.

As Robb Stark drew closer to you, your heart pounded in your chest. Despite your best efforts to maintain decorum, your hands were clammy against the lush fabric of your dress. When he finally stood before you, his azure eyes met yours with an intensity that stole your breath away. His face was unreadable; he made no comments about your youth or offered any compliments as he had done for some of your relatives.

He nodded once before moving on to your younger sister - a girl who barely even knew how to keep her hair out of her soup bowl - and then carried on down the line. You could feel the disappointment welling up and looked up in amazement when he went back up to his previous spot. He... knew what would happen should he not accept any one of them? What was he doing?

Robb Stark, the Young Wolf, turned back to look you in the eyes. His gaze caught yours in a strange dance, akin to two foxes circling one another before withdrawing. He thanked your father, Lord Walder, for his hospitality and the introduction to his lovely daughters and nieces. His voice echoed along the stone hall, each word punctuated by silence from the gathered Freys.

"Before I proceed," he announced, raising an eyebrow as if he had just been struck by a sudden thought, "I would like to ask a question about a small rainbow trout." The hall fell silent.

Your heart leapt into your throat. The 'rainbow trout'. The code you had used so many times in your letters to him. You had used it as a symbol of danger, warning him of impending peril. And now he was using it back at you.

The question Robb asked was incredibly mundane in its nature for anyone else. Yet behind those words, there lay a hidden realm of understanding known only to Robb and yourself; its context spread across a plethora of secret letters exchanged between you two under various pseudonyms over the years. The audience stared at him blankly while your mind raced to pick up the hidden message in his query.

Just then, your innocent little sister nudged you and whispered in your ear right below a breath. "Has King Robb gone coo-coo?" You could hardly suppress the laughter that bubbled within you at her naive words. She didn’t understand what was passing between Robb and yourself and for that, you were both relieved and eternally grateful.

"No dear one," you whispered back, patting her small hand. " he's simply curious about our streams."

A hushed murmur passed through the crowd as they tried to comprehend the Young Wolf’s peculiar question. Lord Walder, from his high seat, let out a puff of irritation. "Is this a jest, Stark?" he asked gruffly.

The Young Wolf looked at him, his eyes hardening. "Not at all," he replied sternly. "In fact, it is rather important."

You noticed the subtle change in his demeanor and felt your heart flutter with anticipation. Robb turned his gaze back to you, the hardness softening once more into a look filled with intent and secret understanding.

"Your rainbow trout seems quite interesting." The Young Wolf finally spoke in his clear voice, echoing through the hall, carrying a message for you alone amongst the throng of confused onlookers. His words were enigmatic and carried an underlying layer of significance that no one but you could decipher.

The corners of your lips curled into an involuntary smile as you met his gaze and nodded subtly. You understood what he was trying to say, what he had so bravely alluded to in front of all your family members.

"And what would such a trout want?" asked Lord Walder impatiently. His sharp gaze pierced through Robb Stark who merely smirked and shrugged lightly.

"That’s for the trout to know," replied the Young Wolf cryptically. Before anyone could question further, he bowed courteously towards Lord Walder and then swept an arm towards you in an elegant gesture. "Perhaps your young lady there can provide me an answer?"

"Walderette?", your father croaked out and raised an eyebrow.

A big rumble went through the hall and you blushed up to your roots, not used to being stared at. This was pressure and you needed to handle it quickly and well - so well that your old, disgusting flea of a father would forget about this instance.

"Yes, Father?" You responded, managing to keep your voice steady, despite the thudding of your heart. Your eyes slipped towards Robb who looked at you encouragingly.

Your father huffed, "You'll entertain The Young Wolf's humor about our trout?"

"Of course, Father," you replied softly, your gaze locked with Robb's. An understanding passed between you two, an assurance that somehow he would make things right.

You then cleared your throat and addressed the hall in a voice far more confident than you felt. "Rainbow trout," you began, glancing at Robb who nodded subtly as if urging you to go on. "Is a delicacy in our rivers. It’s versatile and can thrive in different environments. It can be elusive yet it can be caught if one is patient and diligent."

The room was quiet as everyone watched you curiously. Your father squinted his eyes at you while your younger sister nervously bobbed up and down on her feet. He didn't dare suspect anything, or else your fate would be just the same - being slit open by your family.

"It is very good when smoked and lasts long, and it is easy to transport. It goes well with pickles-"

Lord Walder raised his hand and shrugged. "Yes, Wald... Walderette your name was, right? Rainbow trout is good." He looked at Robb, who gave him a relatively neutral look. "And you are sure you want... her? I have girls with prettier faces, bigger tits and that talk less nonesense."

Robb didn’t flinch under Lord Walder’s crude remarks. Instead, his gaze seemed only to harden, a touch of steel flashing in his eyes as he coolly met the old lord's gaze. "Aye," he said, holding your gaze again with a softness that contrasted sharply with the icy tone he had used for Walder.

"I'm sure." His blue eyes glittered with certainty and warmth. Your heart fluttered, nearly missing a beat at his declaration. To have him, Robb Stark, The Young Wolf, choose you in front of everyone felt as surreal as it was exciting.

Lord Walder grumbled something incoherent under his breath, shifting uncomfortably in his high seat. His gaze oscillated between you and Robb before finally settling on the young king with a grudging acceptance. He sighed heavily and grunted out a curt, “Very well.”

A murmur rippled through the hall, turning into excited whispers that echoed around the stone walls. This was unprecedented; a Frey girl chosen to be betrothed to the King in the North!

Your sisters looked at you with wide eyes, surprise and envy coloring their expressions. You could almost feel their piercing stares burrowing into your back, but you didn’t care. Robb had chosen you. And even though this was part of a grand scheme that remained secret from most, an indescribable joy surged within you at being chosen by him.

Robb then leaned slightly towards you, his voice barely audible above the hushed chatter. "I hope I picked the right trout," he murmured to you, a glint of worry in his eyes.

"There is only the one, my King," you reassured him with a small smile and breathed out once everyone went back to their seats - even the women, which gave you the greatest hope of there not being a massacre tonight. "Though if I find out anything that will hurt you or your... uh, friend, I will give you a signal and lots of likeminded trouts will help."

Robb nodded, his gaze fixed on yours. His eyes were the color of a stormy sky - deep, chilling, and deadly if challenged. Without breaking the eye contact, he whispered back, "I am looking forward to seeing what a school of like-minded trouts can do, thoug I hope I shall never feel the need to see them."

A hush fell over the room as Lord Walder straightened in his chair and clapped his hands together sharply. "Enough of these fish conversations," he barked, his voice echoing throughout the hall. "It's time to sit down for the feast. You're to be wed! My grandson shall be a King!"

As the guests began to shuffle towards their seats, you took Robb's arm and led him to the high table alongside Lord Walder and his newest wife. The woman, who was no more than a year older than you, was beautiful in a fragile kind of way. Her honey-coloured hair was bound up intricately with tiny pearls gleaming in between her locks. She shot you an encouraging smile as you both took your seats.

Throughout the feast that ensued, she would lean towards you from time to time, whispering coded words in your ear between bites of her meal or sips of her wine. "Remember," she once whispered casually as she spread some butter on her bread, "the pickles are of a dangerously spicy sort."

"Just the pickles?" You asked just as casually, keeping your gaze focused on your own plate.

She nodded subtly in response before turning her attention back to her own meal.

The night wore on with laughter and merriment filling the air beneath the vaulted ceilings of the hall. Everyone seemed at ease - even Robb appeared more relaxed now. However, underneath the surface, you were still fully ready to run. Your father was everything, but a honest man and nothing could fully guarantee your safety.

As the feast came to a close, Lord Walder rose to his feet with all the grace of a prowling cat despite his advanced years. "May I have your attention!" he bellowed, effectively silencing the chatter throughout the hall. He nodded his approval at the sudden quiet before turning his steely gaze towards you and Robb.

"It seems to me," he began, his voice carrying an uncanny edge that made the hair on your neck stand up. "That we're forgetting one important detail of this evening."

His gaze intensified as he continued, "These two lovebirds are yet to be wed!"

A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd. You felt Robb stiffen beside you, but your father's newest wife pressed a reassuring hand on your arm. It was, after all, part of their ploy.

A frail old septon shuffled forward from among the crowd. The wrinkles on his face gathered into deep crevices as he smiled warmly at you and Robb. He held out a red silken ribbon - your symbol of unity in this farce of a marriage.

You found yourself whispering vows under his quiet instruction, your voice choked by anticipation and fear while Robb's steady and firm words only added another layer to your pounding heart.

"And now," Walder announced gleefully once you'd both spoken your vows. "Seal it with a kiss."

Robb hesitated for a moment before leaning in, his warm lips brushing against yours in a chaste but lingering kiss. The hall erupted in cheers, and for a fleeting moment, it felt real - like true love had finally found your side, yet you knew that this'd be a farce. But then again, what would a loveless marriage be against dozens of dead innocents?

"Take the lovers away! Undress them!", croaked Walder and grinned implishly as a mass of Frey girls came and picked Robb up. Silencing his prostest with the smallest of nods, you, in turn let yourself be carried by some Stark men.

The crowd of Stark men was like a sea of shadows, each figure blurred into the next by the dim candlelight. The soft murmur of their voices was punctuated by the occasional chuckle or whisper as they carried you away through a labyrinth of stone corridors. The cold, rough-hewn stones beneath your feet were a stark contrast to the warmth and merriment of the feasting hall. The ancient walls echoed with tales of grandeur and battle, each echo ringing in your ears as an ominous forewarning.

With each step, you felt your heart drumming wildly in your chest - this was unchartered territory, a dance with danger and uncertainty. You stole a glance at the jumbled mass of Frey girls disappearing with Robb into another corridor, his eyes locked onto yours for an infinitesimal second before he was swallowed by the throng.

You were ushered up a winding staircase, its spiralling steps leading you to a chamber high above the ground. The door creaked open to reveal a room bathed in soft moonlight. It wasn't chained and barred like the dungeons you'd feared, but rather adorned with silken tapestries depicting intricate hunting scenes.

A sigh of relief escaped your lips as you entered. The room felt strangely comforting with its high vaulted ceiling and large canopy bed draped in furs. A lone window overlooked rolling meadows bathed in silver moonlight, their serene beauty belying the uncertainty that lay ahead.

The Stark men began to undress you, their roughened hands deft yet respectful on your garments. Your heart pounded in your chest like a wild bird trapped in a cage and only stopped once Robb came into the room, dressed only in a sheet that was held up by your giggling sisters. He quickly excused his men and gave the girls the same, stern look.

"Good night, little fish!", "Have fun!" and "Make sure that you'll make a king tonight!" were their parting words as the filed out, giggling.

The heavy door shut behind them with a reverberating thud that echoed in the silence of the chamber. The echo faded, leaving only your heartbeat to fill the quiet space. You turned to face Robb, his striking blue eyes filled with an uncertainty that mirrored your own. The bronze-toned light of the hearth danced across his features and played in his hair, casting him somewhat divine in your sight.

His broad shoulders lifted and fell in a heavy sigh that seemed to shake the very air around you both. The silence hung between you two like a tangible veil as he slowly approached you.

"We needn't…" he began, his voice gravelly and low – softer than you'd ever heard it. Suddenly, all of his kingly stature seemed to melt away, leaving behind only a boy burdened by expectations.

"I know," you quickly cut in, eager to relieve him of his discomfort. "I could just…" You trailed off, suddenly aware of the crude absurdity of your plan. But you pressed on, forcing out the words as your cheeks burned with embarrassment. "... just scratch myself open…"

Robb's gaze flickered downward before snapping back up to meet yours, a horrified look crossing his face.

"I mean... people just want some proof… or else... or else there will be talk... we could pretend…” You stumbled over your words, unable to keep eye contact with him anymore.

A moment passed where only the crackling flames dared break the silence. Then Robb let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly before he met your gaze again.

"You remind me why I chose you for this alliance," he said with a warmth in his voice that took you by surprise, his hand reaching out to gently cup your face. "You're willing to hurt yourself just to protect our farce, and the people we're sworn to protect."

His thumb swept across your cheekbone, drawing a shiver from you. There was honesty in his eyes - a rarity in this world of duplicity and deceit - and it was startling.

"You don't need to do that," Robb continued, the corners of his mouth curling up into a small smile. "We'll find another way. A better way." He let his hand drop, but the warmth lingered on your skin, spreading like wildfire through your body.

"Robb…" You began, but he cut you off with a shake of his head.

"No need for formalities," he said with a small grin, trying to lighten the mood. "We're married now, remember?"

He was attempting light-hearted banter – an attempt to alleviate the tension hanging thick between you two, and it was surprisingly endearing. Still though, unease crept back into your heart. After all, what other way could there be?

"But they will expect…" You started again.

"We'll be careful," he interrupted once more. "And we'll be smart. Let them think what they will."

A knock resounded at the door then – a single, harsh rap that echoed in the chamber and made both of you jump.

"Shall I pour the wine?" A thin voice floated in through the heavy oak door, belonging to an old servant woman probably sent by Lord Walder himself to see their progress.

"Yes," Robb called back after sharing an understanding glance with you.

The Lady came in and hobbled her way towards a small table, filling two cups with a cheap red wine, one that smelled more like a tincture than a lovely Dornish Red. To add to that, she set down a small dish of pickles. "If you do not manage to do your duties tonight, your Lady sends this dish to bring you back to your senses.

You began to panic slightly and nodded at her, doing your best to mime an innocent. Walking over to the small table, you dismissed her and quickly gave Robb his glass. As soon as the Lady went away again, you stripped and gulped down the beastly drink, positioning yourself on the bed like a bitch in heat.

Robb, for his part, wore a look of sheer surprise as he followed your unceremonious actions with wide eyes. He took a deep breath, setting his own glass down on the table beside him before he turned back to you. His cheeks were flushed a delicate pink - a stark contrast to his usual pale complexion - and he looked almost boyish under the soft candlelight.

"Please," he started, his voice rough in the quiet of the room, "You don't need to do this. Not like this." His gaze was steady and honest as it met yours, and his words tugged at your heartstrings.

But your mind was filled with vivid images of Lady Catelyn's tear-stained face and Rob's pregnant girlfriend - their lives hanging by the thinnest of threads because of you. You swallowed hard, pushing away the comforting warmth of his words. "We can't risk it Robb," you insisted. Your voice wavered despite your best efforts to keep it steady.

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his mop of auburn hair. But he made no move to stop you from lying back against the bed – your back cold against the rough fabric beneath you. He looked at you then – really looked at you – taking in your determined expression and your trembling hands.

For a moment, all was silent in the room - save for the crackling flames.

Then, without another word, he began to disrobe himself with an air of solemnity that felt too heavy for the occasion. He moved carefully, meticulously even, stopping momentarily to kick away his modesty sheet before he joined you on the bed.

"Lie on your back, Walderette. I needn't take you like an animal," he whispered solemnly as he made sure to keep his eyes on your face.

His voice was low and gentle, a tender lullaby whispered in the quiet of the night. It was an unexpected sweetness that only made your heart hurt with more force, your guilt gnawing away at you like a starved beast. But you nodded, complying with his request and shifting position, your heart pounding in your chest like a war drum.

A silence descended upon the room as he settled down beside you, his broad form dwarfing yours. His muscled arms propped him up as he leaned over you, his gaze never wavering from your face. You closed your eyes, your breath hitching as you felt the cool touch of his hands against the bare skin of your sides.

He stayed silent as his hands began to wander, their slow and deliberate movements adding an excruciating tension to the silence. He explored without hurry; his fingers ghosting over every rise and fall of your body as if committing it to memory.

You could feel the heat radiating off him – a feverish warmth that made goosebumps rise on your skin. Any other night, under any other circumstances, the feeling would've sent pleasing shivers down your spine.

"I…" you choked out, opening your eyes to find Robb hovering over you. His body pressed against yours in an almost comforting manner but it did nothing to dampen the guilt-ridden fear gnawing at your insides. "I… don't know what I'm doing," you admitted softly.

Robb's eyes darkened slightly at your confession but he gave you a small smile nonetheless. "It's alright," he whispered back reassuringly. "Neither do I, really. I've never... had to... take someone."

You blushed and gave him a shy smile. "I am not completely against it. Just... do whatever needs to be done and if we will not manage to create an heir, I am sure we will be able to do this... everything, under better circumtances."

“Are you sure about this?” he asked again, his voice barely more than a whisper. His eyes met yours, the steady gaze filled with an equal measure of fear and determination.

"Yes," you answered just as softly, your heart pounding in your chest. Despite your fear and uncertainty, you knew there was no other option. The lives of those you cared for were at stake. This was a small price to pay for their safety.

Robb nodded, his face a solemn mask. His eyes held yours, a lingering connection in the quiet room. He moved closer, laying his body against yours in a slow, deliberate manner. You could feel the warmth radiating from him, the rapid beats of his heart echoing your own.

"Close your eyes," he whispered, and you complied without question. His lips found yours then, a tender kiss that tasted of wine and apprehension. His lips moved against yours gently, coaxing you into a rhythm that was as haunting as it was comforting.

His hands moved up your sides, skimming past the sensitive skin of your torso to rest at the sides of your face. He pulled back slightly from the kiss, his breath warm against your cheek as he began to whisper words meant only for you. They were soft promises of safety and care; sweet nothings that melted your worries away like morning fog under the sun's rays.

In spite of the circumstances, the tension in the room dissipated at his gentle ministrations. Your body relaxed under his touch, fear and uncertainty replaced with a sense of security.

Then he was moving again, inch by agonizing inch. The heat of him was all-encompassing now; a comforting weight pressing down on you with each passing moment. You let out a gasp when he finally pushed forward – a soft sound drowned out by the crackling fire and rustle of fabric.

It was not painful nor pleasurable - merely an odd discomfort that became more bearable as Robb began to move with slow rhythm, whispering soothing words into your ear. His hands never left your body – one rested on the small of your back, the other cradling your face. His thumb stroked your cheekbone in small circles, drawing out a soothing pattern that almost lulled you into a trance.

The room had become warmer, or maybe it was just the heat radiating from Robb — every inch of his bare skin touching yours, filling your senses with his presence. You clung to him, hands clenched on his broad shoulders, fingers digging into his flesh as he moved with quiet determination. You kept your eyes closed, taking in every sensation, every small sound he made as time stretched thin between each heartbeat.

He smelled of wood smoke and winter air. A hint of the strong drink you both had shared still lingered on his breath mixed with the warm scent of his skin. Each breath he drew was a low sigh against your ear, a soft symphony playing under the rustle of linen and crackle of fire.

His movements remained slow and deliberate — no rush, no urgency. He was careful with you, maintaining a rhythm that was mindful and tender. His touch was gentle but firm, holding you close yet giving you space to breathe. His lips found your forehead once more, pressing a soft kiss there.

"Are you all right?" he asked softly once again, pulling back slightly to look at you. His voice was barely audible over the slow rhythm of his body and your combined breaths.

You opened your eyes to meet his gaze. His eyes held an intense mixture of concern and uncertainty, but also a strange form of peace, as if in this moment he had found some sense of purpose.

"I... am," you answered truthfully – Your body was tingling from the strange experience but there was no pain or discomfort anymore - only an odd sense of warmth... and maybe even something akin to contentment.

His gaze held yours, his expression softening at your words. A sigh of relief escaped him as he lowered his lips to meet yours again. His kiss was languid, unhurried, a complete contradiction to the rapid beating of your hearts.

He whispered your name between soft kisses and gentle touches, turning it into a sweet lullaby that danced with the crackling flames in the hearth.

Gradually, your world shrunk until it was made up of Robb alone—the rhythm of his breaths matching your own, his fingers tracing patterns on your skin, and his whispered words filling the silence. Time seemed to stretch on endlessly; seconds turning into minutes and minutes into hours as you lost yourself in him.

When he finally pulled back after depositing his hot spend in you, it was slow and deliberate. You felt a pang of loss as the warmth of his body disappeared only to be replaced by the cool air of the room. His fingers lingered on your skin for a moment longer before he moved them away too. He didn’t look at you as he rolled onto his side, putting some distance between you two.

It was understandable, you thought to yourself. His true love was outside, in th tents, worrying about her lover, the father of her babe.

For a long while, there was only silence in the room. You could still hear the faint sounds of Robb's steady breathing and feel his warmth beside you, but there was a sense of melancholy in the air that you couldn’t ignore.

The embers from the fire were slowly dying out and you knew that dawn was approaching; still, neither of you made any attempt to speak or move.

Eventually, Robb broke the silence, "I'm sorry..." His voice was barely audible over the dying embers. He turned towards you again, worry etched on his face, quickly wrapping the towel around himself.

"I don't know why I did that... I shouldn't have..."

His words hung in the air, heavy with regret. You turned your gaze to him, seeing the anguish painted across his face. The light from the dying fire cast a soft glow on his features, emphasizing the shadows of guilt etched deep within his eyes.

"It's okay..." you whispered, laying a hand gently on his arm. "It was necessary."

But even as the words left your lips, you couldn't help but feel a pang of sadness. You were both trapped in a situation neither of you wanted to be in. Each decision made out of obligation, not desire. It was a cruel reality, one that seemed determined to tear you both apart.

He looked at you then, his eyes searching yours for any sign of resentment or pain. When he found none, he let out a sigh, heavy with relief.

"I wish things were different," he said after a long silence, his voice barely audible over the crackling embers. "I wish we could choose our own paths."

You chewed your lower lip, contemplating his words. You knew what he meant. Your lives were dictated by forces beyond your control-- duty, responsibility and a looming war that threatened everything you held dear.

"We can't change what's already happened," you said quietly, meeting his gaze. "All we can do is move forward and make the best of what we have."

He nodded at your words although his expression remained pained. He reached out to take your hand into his own larger one and gave it a comforting squeeze.

"Thank you," he murmured softly, getting up and handing you your dress.

"No, thank you, my King," you said with a small smile. "Let us leave this horrid place."