#I just had this thing unused ever since many many years ago so I used it now. Also my friend did something of plasticine too but it's not t

[justdrawingcatsandotherstuff]

Iii... Was bored. Bc I'm unemployed yet. So have this 👀

[rise-my-angel]

Heart of the Great Wolf

The Stag and the Young Wolf

Pairing: Robb Stark x F!Baratheon!Reader

Length: 14k

Warnings: angst/hurt comfort, unethical medical practices, mention of disturbing imagery, past character deaths, talk of pregnancy, child death, mild smut

Notes: This is a rewrite of some deleted scenes back during Robb's era in the story, I had a lot of fun writing these two again so I hope you enjoy! Associated Chapter Here, Series Masterlist Here

Harrenhal had been cursed since it’s first stone was laid. Or, that at least was what some spoke of it. More then enough rumours were spread of the ruined castle and it’s lands. No lord or family had ever been able to hold the great castle for more then a few generations before tragedy would befall them. And that went back right to it’s very start.

The castle greater then the very lands most lords held in their entirety, and yet most of it laid unused. Great walls which stood so high that some bridges between the high towers would kill a man without a doubt between falls. But only the lower two thirds were used. It was all that could be afforded by any. The higher the towers sat in the sky, the less usable they were even moreso with the bats adorning them. By now the centuries passed, stories spoke of men seeing masses of black within the halls like a dark figure following them, but when searched further were just bats in so many numbers they looked as one creature.

But it was not just bats making it unlivable. Each hall and corridor and room was surrounded by ruin and decay. Stones never rebuilt or restructured, water dripping from every corner exposed to the air as if the rain which would come could drown out the remaining rooms. The main hall in it’s peak had something near thirty five hearths to keep the castle warm, and now all that remained were fires in each rooms used when it still wouldn’t be much. It was clear why those who even held Harrenhal seldom chose to live within it’s walls.

Yet, the worst of it all was why. The strongest towers and the highest walls, a million men could have marched on the castle and a million men would’ve been repelled. But there was one thing it’s cruel yet brilliant creator Harren the Black did not account for. An attack from the air, a burning of dragonfire. It was said the day it was complete, did Aegon the Conquerer fly over the castle and let Balerion the Dread melt the stone walls within a few mere hours.

Some claimed that it was the burning from the dragon which left it cursed, but you thought there must have been more to it then that alone.

Right along the edges of the castle sat the Gods Eye. A vast lake that in and of itself held memories of death. A mighty battle between kin was fought above the waters, the strong yet terrifying Daemon Targaryean had done the unthinkable. In exchange for the life of he and his dragon, had slain the mighty Aemond the Kinslayer, and took the dragon Vhagar with him. The Valyrian Steel sword of Dark Sister had been found decades later in the waters still shoved deep into the kinslayers eye along with the bones of he and his dragon.

Yet still, that was not the strangest part. The Gods Eye itself was the largest lake in Westeros, but sat right in the middle was a small patch of land. A land with so little known about it, it had become as mysterious as the curses of Harrenhal itself. The Isle of Faces was the last known location outside of the North were Weirwood trees still stood beyond some single trees in a castle’s godswood, and even then so few existed still. Named for the faces carved into them much like ones you knew existed like the heart tree in the Winterfell Godswood. Harrenhal too had it’s own immense godswood and a heart tree, but it paled in comparison to what wonders sat across the lake.

Thousands of years ago, it was said the First Men had met with the Children of the Forest to agree to a peace after centuries of fighting. What agreement was made, none knew, as the First Men seemed to leave no trace of any scrolls, books, or written language behind. Some stories spoke that the Children had used the power there to break the Arm of Dorne, preventing any men to travel to their lands further. Creating what the realm knew now as the Stepstones. A useless patch of rock and rubble squabbled over by pirates these days. Were that true, few knew. Maesters said that storms had broken apart the land and nothing more.

Many had tried over the years to reach such a place, but to no avail. The closer one got to the isle, it was said flocks of ravens drove them off, or were forced away by sudden and powerful windstorms. Those who survived such attempts would sometimes say they saw figures that looked like green men at the shores, but fewer then none seemed to believe them. A mysterious land surrounded by bright blue water and black swans adorning the shores it was a place that sparked the imaginations of many.

Events haunted the memories of this place over the years and yet as you now walked through it’s halls you felt little of it matter. The oddities of Harrenhal tried to seep into your mind and yet you heard and felt none of it.

Olyvar Frey, Robb’s young squire the poor lad was trying so hard to serve you well. But each time it seemed he spoke to you alone it left him more weary then the last, always delivering news you’d rather not hear. This time, a raven scroll. You had enough news for the day.

Two rounds of news came first, word from Riverrun from Edmure Tully to Catelyn. Their father Lord Hoster Tully, a man ill for many years had finally passed. But the ravens carried more news. From the North. Roose Bolton’s bastard had reached Winterfell and found it abandoned, in ruin, and with no sign of Bran or Rickon. Only rumours of bodies of burned boys that some straggling locals claimed were the poor two themselves. With no word of Theons whereabouts, or any terms sent, it was not likely that Bran and Rickon were taken back to the Iron Islands as hostages.

The most likely scenario, is that those bodies of burned boys were them. No matter what yourself and Robb had tried telling Catelyn. Little could console her by now. Most of her children were gone. Her two youngest most likely dead, Arya was most likely dead, and Sansa was still in the hands of Joffery and the Queen. Only Robb remained to her, and now the world took her father too.

You hadn’t known what to say, or even how to feel. Your own mind was cluttered and clouded and there was little that could be said to make any of it right anyways, perhaps you didn’t know how to try.

Instead, you were sought out by Olyvar and handed a raven scroll of your own. In an instant something felt wrong. The sigil was nothing you’d expect. A black sail boat with an onion as it’s banner. Your eyes glanced up to the boy narrowed and on edge, him taking a moment to make his leave. “My Queen.”

Your eyes followed the entire path before looking around you. Men were everywhere, but it would take no time to find solace here. Tucking it away, your feet begun to carry you into the barley warmer indoors until you found an alcove tucked away, of which there were countless. Back pressed against the stone, ignoring the drips of water heard falling down towards your feet and the muffled voices all around you you pulled it back out.

Unfolding it’s contents, you too recognized the writing and your eyes jumped down to the end right away seeing the name etched at the bottom. Marya Seaworth still struggled to sign her name as such, her tendencies to only use her first with those she knew. But, you realized that perhaps she wasn’t writing to you as a lady, but a woman whom knew you well, and knew you needed to know.

It was not the first time members of House Seaworth had gone behind Stannis Baratheons back to send you word of what was happening. Allard did it first. Her and Ser Davos’s eldest son. He had been part of the household guard for the Baratheons of Dragonstone, and when you were very young only three or four, he was assigned personally to watch over you.

From girl to woman you had Allard commonly at your side, and some days he felt down south like your only companion that did not speak to you with ulterior motives. He would write to you at first, and it was him who told you of what your father was doing with the Lady Melisandre. The red woman he said the men had come to call her behind her back. That it was your mother she had convinced first, and none found out until he travelled back to Dragonstone with your father after Lord Arryn’s sudden passing.

But then Renly died, and you stopped hearing word. You didn’t question why, or you didn’t want to know, but this was the first you heard from any since then. Marya was a sweet woman, too sweet to be involved writing you such things. Too sweet to be feeling the heartbreak you now knew Catelyn was also feeling. A mother having lost a son.

Marya wrote to you about what happened in the battle. That Tyrion Lannister had set the Blackwater on fire. A sea of green fire and it, like the dragon fire against the walls of Harrenhal, had melted ships and burned the men in them, alive. And that amongst them, was Matthos Seaworth. Her and Davos second eldest son, and once a friend to you.

A few years older then yourself, he was a scribe for your father and had yearnings to be a knight. Allard spoke that he had bought into this red god without any doubt, and you chilled to think he died thinking fire was the way he was supposed to go. Marya spoke that there was no word that her husband was alive, but she knew men who would’ve told her and they had yet to report such grim news. She had hope Ser Davos was still out there, but where, only the gods knew. But Matthos was dead, no body to even bury, and way of knowing what state her husband was in.

The raven told more though, details Marya herself claimed she didn’t think she should be telling you, but she did anyways, you had never proven to be a traitor for simply standing by your own husband she said. If it came down to it, she’d choose hers over any King any day as well, and she wouldn’t treat you different. That’s how you put together what happened.

Reading over the words, you felt a twist in your gut, and one that didn’t belong to the babe you were still able to hide. Despite such a devastating loss, Stannis had pushed onto the Mud Gate at Kings Landing and nearly got in. That was, until the night was overpowered by the forces of Tywin Lannister, with the strength of the remaining Tyrell army at his back.

You knew Ser Loras, you knew him rather well and didn’t wish to feel ill of his choice or why he made it, but he had gone from Renly’s foolish side, to the side of the enemy all were fighting against. Together, Lannister and Tyrell had pushed back the Baratheons to the sea once more and victory was found for the Lions and the Roses wrapped around them.

Tywin now sat in Kings Landing as Hand of the King, his son set your fathers forces on fire and Matthos included. You felt your jaw tensing along with that feeling inside of you. Eyes dark as they tore themselves up from the raven to the stone on the ground as your hands tensed. Wanting to tear it the way Cersei had Robert’s last words in the Throne Room.

Instead, you steadied yourself. You were better then that, for now. Hiding it away once more, you inhaled deeply as your head turned side to side making sure no one was watching you. A hand running over your face trying to peel off the layer which showed how much was on your mind and truthfully, little was replaced with it. All the news, and this was the most relevant to the war you all fought and yet no one you could confide in felt right to go to.

Robb had more then enough on his shoulders then needing this right now, and the Blackfish had a brother to start grieving for on top of it. But you couldn’t hold it all in, someone needed to grasp what you were putting together. It would cause conflict, what your mind was asserting and it needed to be handled delicately so it did not come out in ill before Robb himself could handle this. Finding your feet, you begun moving through the halls, needing to quietly search out the only counsel you felt would truly listen and understand what you were implying.

Only, you did know one you could hear an answer from what may have occurred. Robb didn’t need to handle this, his grandfather, Bran, Rickon, you wouldn’t steal or force his focus from them, so you took that spot. Searching through what felt like the caverns each looking more grim then the last, as long as you were deeper within and couldn’t look up and see the broken skies you could have tricked yourself into thinking this looked not unlike Dragonstone.

The stone made of black, the vast grand nature of it as if meant to awe as much as it was to make a statement, and it was dour and grey and uninviting no matter where you went. And too, even without the statues and books and decor to remind you, Harrenhal was loomed over by the shadow of a dragon all the same. To what ends, you asked the gods keep that to themselves. You had seen the skulls, that was all of dragons you needed.

Walking down the steps, you nearly thought you may have had to bring a torch along with you the more into the depths you travelled to get to the destination how dark it got with how unkempt so many halls of this place were . Some of the men insisted he could be brought to you, but you rejected the thought. Something about this place made you feel as if you needed to wander. Still recovering from his wounds, you approached the strange man.

Found in the main court which you entered through days before, the men had found someone still alive. Not a soldier of any sorts, but what seemed to be a prisoner when the Lannisters had been capturing people around the Riverlands for information. None of which it seemed helped Tywin get any closer to Robb. How he was planning to beat him on the battlefield now you had no idea.

Being led to the area which the man, a strange sort of man by the name of Qyburn, was recovering, you glanced behind only to signify that you wished to speak to the man alone. “Your grace,” Moving to at least bow no doubt, you held a hand out. Gesturing him to remain seated, commenting there was no need when he should be resting. A chuckle came from him with a wince coming up from his chest. “I’m afraid it is long passed that, with a knife to the throat one becomes beyond comfort.”

Walking somewhat around the small area serving him as a room, you glanced down to his attire and the back up. Almost an expecting look in his eyes. He was a small man, looked on the weak side likely put up not a single fight but somehow survived. Those eyes though, a bit unnerving. As if they were always watching. “The robes, but no chain. I thought all Maesters wore something of a chain they earn.”

“I was one. Once, your grace.” Your brows narrowed, face twisting down into a confusion as he seemed unperturbed with explaining himself further. “I was stripped of my chain, and expelled from the citadel some time ago.” Your voice was short in asking why, but he seemed uncaring of your more stern nature. “They considered my experiments to be on the bold side, and they did not appreciate the findings which came with that.”

He was being purposely vague, which you did not quite appreciate. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of a man being thrown out of the order before. They must have been quite the experiments to garner that reaction.” Why you even asked, was mostly for courtesy. He seemed a man more comfortable in his situation then most, and perhaps he would be more open with you if you asked open questions first. “Would that be a story you’re willing to share?”

The look was bright in his eyes, as if recollecting better times despite what would come from his mouth about them. “I would. Being thrown out was a regretful consequence, but I am not shamed of the learning I have found conducting them. I always found myself interested in disease. Curiosity always was my weakness. The need to learn all about it in order to treat it. And the only way to treat disease, is to understand disease. And the best way to understand disease, is to study the afflicted.”

“Study?”

Nodding, your face fell, the feeling in your gut growing more ill but this time with a new wave at the implication you both knew you had come too. “Men who were already dying, who would serve the realm far better allowing me to gain insights on their condition then dying from it and changing nothing.”

Your voice rather flat, arms resting across your chest as you moved little. “I imagine the world will rejoice in their names when you surely give them credit for cutting them open and watching that happens to their insides.” Asking not with a genuine wonder but almost as if humouring you as you were him, if you disapproved. “Do I disapprove of you experimenting on living men to understand what was killing them? Yes, I can say I disapprove of that with some conviction.”

His head leaning back the slightest, he found another route of question as if examining you before his eyes with only your words and expression. “Tell me, my Queen, how many have you killed? Five? Ten? A dozen?”

Your eyes slipped to the side, both of you knew the answer was more complicated then that. Certainly now. Only years ago could you say that number was zero. It was even further away from zero, you had never gotten into such a physical confrontation so seriously before. But the day Lannister men surrounded yourself, Lord Stark and Jory Cassel, that number only increased to one, but it only takes that first to change everything. In near the same instance did Jaime Lannister himself shove a dagger through Jory’s eye, did you make eye contact with him, your own shoved through the neck of his own guard. The blood more prominent on you then it even was him, and he was the greatest swordsmen, or one of them. Then you fought at Whispering Wood, and that number lost count. So you were honest. “I lost track of that along time ago.”

A hum came from his throat as you looked at you, possibly seeing an image of the Lady Baratheon the realm had heard of most your life and finding an image not at all matching. “A rare thing for a woman. Not only to be one to take a life but so many at that.” You made no comment, the weight carried with you all the same no matter the sex. “And how many lives have you saved?”

That came quick. Quicker then he was expecting. “None.” Yet just as fast you changed gears on him, “What can you tell me of the confrontation we came in on the other day? What happened here?” Claiming his knowledge was limited, you cut him off before he could finish. “Limited is better then none.”

Trying to find someone in this castle was a nightmare.

Corridor to courtyard it was endless. As if plucked in the middle of Flea Bottom and told to find one man, even with so much of the castle out of any sort of use. Your patience wearing thin by the time you spotted him locked in a conversation with one which would destroy the rest of that patience. The voice speaking to him falling on somewhat deaf ears as Lord Karstark found your person and a struggle to pretend he had decorum still underneath the anger. “I have my best men on it, if he is out there, we’ll find him.”

Eyes still locked onto you as he responded, “Aye, but what then? We give him a scolding?” His companion turning to see where his attention went and found you. One of them at the least still understood what respect was on some level, a small nod in place of a bow as you approached.

Skipping right to your point, today of all days you did not wish to entertain the anger of the Karstarks. “My lord, if you could give us a moment to speak. Alone.” A glance shared between them before he begun to walk with a grumble just under his breath, only for you to catch the glaring eyes of Harald Karstark, his now only living son left being sent your way before following his father.

If you weren’t mistaken, you’d have thought you were the one who wrapped your chains around Torrhen Karstark’s neck yourself, the way you were being glared at. But, you would take it over any of that ire being sent Robb or Catelyns way in the middle of this such fresh patch of grief.

Left with only one, Roose Bolton gave you his full attention with no hangups to stand behind him at the very least. “Northerners can be as stubborn as our winters, your grace. It will take time for those wounds to heal.” Nodding, your eyes watched the path the men left towards now out of sight before looking back, a curious expression on his face. “But I presume that isn’t why you’ve sought me out this afternoon.”

“No.” Your eyes purposely glancing around to the grim outsides of the sight, most of the dead taken care of which were left out, but the lingering scent of death was never so easily washed out. “What happened here was not at Robb’s command.” Rumbling in a low agreement, already did he begun trying to connect where your own thoughts were. Grateful that as intimidating of a man he was, Roose Bolton was smart and trusting in the world of battle. Quickly rising in the ranks between yourself and Robb as someone whose counsel you both not only trusted but would seek out. Now feeling no different, if not just for the tenseness on him which you could easily attribute the general feeling around all the men presently.

Speaking only enough for the two of you to hear, “If you are asking my thoughts on the matter, I would have to guess that one of the River Lords became a little too over eager, and tried to take on the Mountain and his men themselves. To what ends though, I’m not sure.”

You didn’t confirm the information which Qyburn told you, not to Lord Bolton, but you did have enough to know your worries were indeed, the right ones. “I do.” His brows raised as his face twisted in curiosity, but yours remained stern and rigid as something was holding you back from near speaking through gritted teeth. “Five dead Lannister men for every one of ours, but nowhere along the way did we see any sign of them. Whoever did this, attacked the Mountain and won, and sent them running.” Asking where, your answer lead to a narrowing in his eyes that you both understood. “South.”

More details were skipped, mostly this time such personal ones relayed about the ones you knew in what felt like another life. But what you spoke gave Roose Bolton enough to catch up and his assessment matched your own, as you both could tell you were on the same understanding. “If you mean to tell me you suspect these two events are related, I would have to agree with you. Driving the Mountains forces out of the west would give him enough time to join with Tywin Lannister.”

Finishing for him with a more flat knowing. “Which would give him more forces then Stannis Baratheons, to drive him out of Kings Landing before he could take it.” Your jaw clenched, hands behind your gloves tensing as if to try and dig through the leather and sink your nails painfully into your palms. “My fathers army outnumbered them five to one, even if the Tyrells at his side that wouldn’t have been enough if everything had gone according to Robbs plan.”

Smart man as he was, picking up on how easily you deferred your own part in the plan to Robb alone, and how for everything you were you were so easily willing to give credit to your King instead of demanding the equal share. Sometimes still did you manage to suprise the Northern Lords no matter how close they thought they were getting to knowing you. “I presume you have an idea whom was responsible for this?” You nodded once and quick he was to catch that you were not sharing. If you were right, this for Robb would be far more of a family matter. One which you were not going to throw onto the coals for all to see, Robb could decide for himself how to handle his uncle when the time came, if you were right.

“If I may ask, your grace, of you suspected all of this already, why come to me first and not the King?”

Your expression fell, if not softened the slightest. It was known by this point what rolling news came one after the other that morning for the Starks and Tullys in one blow. Arms crossing more over your front, hands tightening again as if to channel that energy into where you wish you felt a sting instead of whatever conflict sat in your chest. “I needed to know I was right before I brought it to him. He has enough to handle right now without having to put all this together on top of it.”

You both knew what it was you meant in specifics. Roose Bolton had been a great help at Robbs side the entire time from the moment news was sent your way. Ravens had come from White Harbour, Barrowton and the Dreadfort of what Theon had done. What all the Greyjoys had done and were containing to do and it was all a mess.

Theon had raided Torrhen's Square before moving onto Winterfell. Balons own daughter Yara held men at Deepwood Motte, and beyond GreyWater Watch was where Victarion Greyjoy held Moat Cailin. Other pockets of Ironborn were scattered around, but without much organization. It was the Greyjoys themselves holding this together, but it was Theons which was the worst.

A betrayal you felt hurt deeper then you thought, turning swiftly to such an anger that he had done this, that you and Robb had not even hesitated to proclaim he’d die for this. Robb meant it then, you had meant it then, and certainly you both did now. Bran and Rickon. One boy crippled, the other only seven or eight and their blood was now on the hands of someone they knew from the day they were born. You could only imagine how confused they were by it, why Theon had done this.

Did they think the same thought you did? Did Theon secretly hate you all the whole time?

Almost being snapped back into the moment, Roose Boltons voice hit you once more as if forgetting where you even were. “If my bastard had been able to get there faster-”

Shaking your head, you let out a deep sigh. Eyes closing only as long as it took for the breath to leave your lungs in a large chunk. “Word hadn’t gotten in or out of Winterfell for months. There would be no reason to kill all the ravens unless he had something to hide. Meaning he was hiding this for a long time. Longer then your son would’ve had to try and prevent it.” A small appreciation could be somewhat found on his face. “No matter what he found when he got there, give your son my thanks. Robb and myself, both. He tried, and that’s all we can ask for with what we didn’t know.”

Almost to part ways, Roose called out just as you turned. Your body pivoting halfway back, “Is there nothing else on your mind?” Your brows narrowed for a moment as he elaborated. “You seem tense, more tense then the present issues at hand alone. If there is anything on your mind, my counsel is always here.”

Your smile was half made and did not reach his eyes, but you ignored the twisting in your gut with a more low tone that didn’t feel very meaningful. “Just a long few days is all, my lord.”

A few long days indeed, but by the end of it, things had changed drastically. And everything, at least between yourself and Robb would be out in the open and no doubt ready to spread throughout the ruins of the castle by sunrise. But in the very moment your mind considered it all, that was really the least on your mind.

“No. We won't talk this out, he dies for this.”

It was almost precisely what was about to come out of Robb's mouth, and yet you beat him to it with a hissing anger and flashing rage in your eyes. He was furious, but once the dust settled he found himself surprised you were as angry as you were. But in truth he supposed it made sense. It was one hit after another for you and Robb knew you refused to talk about it over his angers.

You and his mother seemed to have spoke something in silence that afternoon when she told you of Renly Baratheon's death. She faded her own words off, but your head whipped up to meet her eyes with a morose knowing falling upon them. But you wouldn't handle it from front of all them, so you switched tactics and spoke of the matter solely on a strategic value. And yet before he had the chance to find the right way to approach you about it, did you and Roose Bolton come into the tent he and his mother were in.

He held a look of a stern knowing of bad news, and you were stiff and trying not to show the shaking in your hands as you gave him the raven scroll. You had only read it moments before Robb had, and as Roose explained it in greater detail, the intensity rose tenfold between both of you.

He couldn't comprehend it at first, there was no way it could be true. Half his life he was raised there. Bran, Rickon, and Arya had never had a life were Theon wasn't in, and Sansa would've been too young to recall what life was like before he showed up. Theon grew from a boy to a man right alongside Robb and Jon both. Robb knew his father treated Theon was good as a son as he could have, what right did he have to stab his family in the back for one that hadn't wanted him for over a decade?

It wasn't until late into the night, you fast asleep with your back tucked tightly against his chest, Robb running a free hand up and down your bare hip did it finally make sense. You went into this war in a difficult position. On an opposing side to a father who thus far had not made any attempt to make peace with his daughter. Knowing were you to have sided with Stannis, you'd have been a Princess of House Baratheon, and without being seen as a traitor by him, many all knew he'd have named you his heir in place of a son.

But you gave all of that up willingly. You set all of that aside to stand by Robb's side, and he pitied the version of his life he went through this war without you. You couldn't fight with Robb and your father both, so you chose him, you chose the family that had made you welcome and showed you love without question. You made the difficult choice to set aside what law dictated was your birthright, and stood with the Starks.

It made sense to Robb, that you took Theons betrayal hard. You were now watching the version of your life that you once feared the North would think of you. But you didn't, you stood out as a Southerner, a foreign girl with a father opposing Northern independence, and yet you were Robbs wife, his Queen, the North's Queen.

Theon went crawling back to a family that didn't want him and betrayed everything he was raised with in order to what? Impress his father? What about his father in Ned? What about Eddard Stark's memory deserved to be insulted like this? Ser Rodrick was dead, his brothers then what he could only assume were hostages.

You and Theon had a rough start, but once you both set aside the grudges against the others family, you both were such easy friends. Robb recalled how amusing it was that once you both stopped hating each other, it was as if that chapter of your dynamic never existed in the first place. You were both the outsiders to the Stark family, and your drastic opposites ended up meshing in some amusing ways that created the foundation for a friendship he knew you and Theon both cared a lot about.

In the easy days, neither of you would admit it as such, but if you weren't doing your duties, if you weren't spending time with either Robb or Jon, they all knew somewhere in the castle walls or wolfswood you and Theon were off competing in some fashion or another. Of course this hit you hard, first your uncle, then Theon, the life you once knew was unravelling before your eyes.

It only got worse when you and Robb returned to the encampment, and found out his mother had released the Kingslayer in the middle of the night. Now, you only had each other. Allies and friends were in this army yes, but in terms of who had the others backs in such a close way, you had only Robb and Robb had only you now.

He loved his mother, but there was no denying the rage at what she had done. Maybe he was harsh about it, but there were going to be untold consequences for setting Jaime Lannister free and Robb couldn't afford to risk your life on top of his mens.

And yet, it never stopped getting worse. Robb barley had time to even consider what had happened at Harrenhal yet. Once Roose Bolton came to he and you with two raven scrolls, it felt as if the world was testing if Robb could keep his kingdom together let alone his family. He told you he'd tell his mother alone, that she wasn't going to take any of it well and she might react easier if it was only him.

You had accepted with too much ease, Robb knew something was wrong but so much had piled on both your shoulders, he had not the foresight to guess. So you left him be, and Robb had to deliver the news to his mother.

“I hadn't seen him in years. I don't even know how many.”

His grandfather, Lord Hoster Tully of Riverrun, had been ill for some time, and finally it seemed the end of such a long bout of sickness took it's toll. Robb could tell his mother had spent well over twenty years in the North by now, she held her resolve in front of her son as well as Robb was doing in front of his mother. She'd fall apart later, and he'd fall apart later. For now, Robb had to be firm as he was comforting. “We'll travel to the funeral together. Roose Bolton will garrison here until we return.”

Robb wanted to feel guilt when she asked him, but he knew he couldn't let his personal attachment to his mother over take what she had done. And so he chose not to answer her comment of, “Will I be wearing manacles when I lay my father to rest?”

The answer was no, but he had a feeling that wouldn't make what news he needed to tell her next any better. It needed to be said, and he needed to not dose the words with honey. She needed to hear the truth as you and him were forced to learn it. “By the time Bolton's bastard Ramsay got to Winterfell, the Ironborn were gone. They massacred our people and torched the castle.” Robb paused to let the burning in his lungs try to deflate just the slightest, keeping the waver from his voice. “Bran and Rickon haven't been found.”

His mother found reason right away as he knew she would try. “They may have escaped, Theon may have taken them back to the Iron Islands as hostages. Have you received any demands?”

No, Robb thought to himself. He hadn't. But Ramsay and his men did find something. Something that painted the picture as clear as it could be, and as her son, this was the last news he wished to tell his mother. But as King, he did so anyways. Because amongst the dead they found, there were two bodies which stood out.

Charred, black, burned, and small. One smaller then the other and just the right size, and from the word of survivors which had hidden away in Winter Town, Theon had let them all know too well who such two little burned bodies belonged too.

By the time Robb reached what was acting as his chambers for the time being, he let the tears flow freely in silence. Head handing in his hands as he sat at the edge of the bed. By the time you had gently walked in, kneeling in front of him with your softness and delicate care, Robb knew he only had you left. The agony of losing everything but you hit him rough in his heart.

Until that was you guided his hand to sit against your stomach just under your clothes with a sweet, tender, whisper on your lips. “You have us.”

Not very warm the chambers you were in, even with a fire going all night. The cracks and chunks missing from the walls anywhere meant that nowhere was so in tact that it could keep the warm in. Though, with the fur atop you almost hiding you away under it and the figure behind you, keeping your back pulled firmly into his chest, you seldom needed to think of it as long as you didn’t leave the bed.

But, you couldn’t do that forever. Your legs itched to move and stand and you knew in bed you’d only fidget around until it woke Robb up, but he didn’t make the task simple. Inching ever so slowly out of his grasp and out of the bed, quickly did you find yourself grabbing a long robe. Draping almost against the floor like a gown as you tied it’s front before making your way along the room. Stepping into a smaller shoe then your usual boots to hide the coolness from your feet as well.

Somewhat along the room was a hall, you suspected once a door existed where it stood but none anymore, burned away no doubt. And no inclination to properly fix, your answer as to the question of why coming shortly thereafter. Wherever it once led, it didn’t anymore. A drop off down to the lower levels, bodies from up here looked like ants and sounds were muffled if any voice could carry to these heights.

The air was cool and a set of stones sat between you and below but little else, but no fear was felt surprisingly. The insides of this great structure exposed to you, and yet that didn’t make you feel fear. The bones of what happened once made you angry, but now you knew there was little to be gained in that thought. They were gone, whats left of their power scattered and being fought over by blood. You feared what this war would bring to the ones you loved even more, not dragons long since dead.

Though, there was one more thing you were afraid of, small touches and a deep voice rumbling in your ear out of nowhere. Followed by a flat expression as the voice laughed. Robb tugged you into his back, one hand on your hip and the other sitting flat against your stomach. You didn’t even need to turn to see his handsome smile as he laughed at your jump. Leaning down to your ear, “It’s a dangerous fall from this height.”

Your smile was soft, nor did you move. “Which is why I still have two feet planted on the ground.” That time his chuckle was more in his chest and yet pulled a greater smile out of you. The quiet sat between you only for a moment before it was you who filled the silence. “I’m sorry.” Asking for what, your voice grew a bit more quiet, a bit more somber. “For everything that happened yesterday, I never said anything about your grandfather.”

Pulling you a bit closer, you felt his thumb run over the material over your stomach more in a gentle pattern. “It’s alright, my love. You had more then a few things on your mind too, yeah?” Tilting your head in a small agreement, Robb rested the side of his head against yours as he looked to the sights over your shoulder. “You weren’t the only conflicted one. My grandfather passed, Bran and Rickon are probably dead, and yet I felt the happiest I ever have when you told me. Suppose we’re a strange mix of both.”

Nodding slightly, your hands reached down, pushing up the material along his forearm of whatever he must have tossed on, you let your hands sit along there. Your eyes narrowed slightly as the wind blew somewhat in your direction, a feeling sitting in your heart that travelled down to your stomach once more. How strange it was that you were scared just last night to tell him. A laugh almost leaving you but of course it did not pass Robbs notice. Asking what, you turned your head slightly before leaning back against him almost more for support. “Everything we’ve seen, everything we’ve done and the thing that scared me the most was telling you about this.”

Another grin left, Robbs lips finding the hair at the side of your head before resting against it once more. Something soft on his tongue without any judgment, “You thought I would be mad. You thought telling your husband, who loves you as much as I do, whose always wanted a family of his own, would be mad his wife is pregnant. For such a smart girl, you’re a bit slow.”

Mouth dropping in part mock offence, Robb laughed only to all but yank you back when you tried leaving his touch. Knowing he was stronger then you, but your voice was more high pitched in an attempt to defend yourself. “We’re also at war, in the middle of Harrenhal when we came here expecting a fight. Of course I thought you would be mad now of all times.” Robb didn’t have to tell you he rolled his eyes for you to know, you could simply sense it.

His hand pressed more firmly down. “You could never make me mad. Certainly not about this. It doesn’t matter what happens in this war, we’ll make this work. I was actually thinking-”

You couldn’t stop yourself from saying it. “That’s a rare thing.”

A yelp followed as he pinched the hip he held, you laughing after apologizing as he pushed passed what you said. “What I was saying, is that I was wondering if you should stay in Riverrun when we get there.” Your head tried turning to the side with a furrowed brow, a feeling dropping in your chest only for Robb to pull it back and lull you back down. “We thought we were walking in on a fight. You were willing to fight in this state, but I don’t want to risk it anymore. You’ll be safe in Riverrun, you and my mother.”

Inhaling a bit, you let your hand drift downwards to rest over his hand. Only to have him switch places, Pressing it firmly against your stomach before covering with his own. The idea made sense, it wasn’t terrible, it made sense, but the thought sounded awful in your heart. You didn’t see the benefit for you in being apart from him that way. “What about you?” A hum came out in question behind you. “Your mother and I hide away in Riverrun, what are you doing without me?”

His head jolted back in amusement at you. “You saying I can’t fight this war without you?” You said nothing, which was as good as an answer to him. Holding you closer, you felt the need to grin in his voice. “Aye, you might be right there. I’ll be useless if I can’t have you beside me at night.”

What sleep would you find without him though? Every since you rode through the gates of Winterfell, three days without food or sleep you hadn’t spend a single night away from Robb. He was always there, always with his arms wrapped around you as you fell asleep. Nightmare or not, Robb was there to ease all of it.

The idea of being without him almost felt scary. What would you even do without him there at this point? You dared not want to actually find out. Shaking your head, you knew you had dropped the tone rather abruptly in your silence but Robb could adjust anyways. “I know I’d be safer. In Riverrun, with the baby, but my place is by your side. This war is yours as much as it’s mine too. As long as your fighting in it.”

The hand on your hip reached upward. Running along to cup your chin and turn you enough to look back at him seeking your eyes over your shoulder. “I’m not doubting that. I’m just trying to plan ahead is all. We might still be out here when the baby comes, and I need to know we have a plan.” Commenting that it was still around seven months in the future, Robb just pressed against your hand on his stomach more firmly. “Just wait and see how much I have planned out when that time comes, then.”

You both stood there for a while, neither feeling the need to say anything. The wind blowing just enough that Robb gently pulled your hair behind you off to the side out of his face. You felt his head moving, stretching upwards to gaze around. Taking the sight in, much like all of you took turns doing. All highborns, some more then others, inevitably learned about the fires of Harrenhal. The horrors of that day no matter how much the written texts by once Targaryean supports claimed it was otherwise.

Cursed and destroyed, no good could ever come of this no matter what. Harren the Black spent decades acting as a blight on the River Lords and the smallfolk, but no one thought this should’ve been the end to him, his sons, nor the castle so many people had struggled to help make. Nothing could justify this, and it seemed Robb did too. Mumbling low in your ear, “So, what exactly happened here?”

Face twisting, you more then halfway turned to look at him with a pure confusion, “I know you know the story, Robb.”

His hands wrenching from your body, he grabbed your forearms to turn you back to the sight, wrapping around you once more when putting you in place. “I do, but you’re the Targaryean expert here. I want to know how you’d tell it.” Asking with a hint of jest, questioning his usage of expert. “You know more about them then anyone else I’ve ever met.”

Sighing deeply, you knew he was not wrong. How much you wished it was, how much your head was tormented as a child growing up surrounded by their memories. Even as you walked over the graveyard of their dynasty, your family creating their new one on top of them, you couldn’t escape how much they haunted you and your thoughts. Everything they did and you rarely ever found something to like. “Well, the Great Council was held here.”

Silence was met before Robb muttered low and bemused, “That’s the first thing you think of in this place?”

Protesting with a grin, “To be fair, that involved my family.” Giving Robb pause, he looked down to you asking how. You didn’t blame people for not recalling that fact, it was obscure history and naturally only you would recall it. Head filled with so much information that held no significant anymore. But, you explained anyways. “Princess Rhaenys Targaryean. She was originally up for a claim as heir at the Great Council. Her father was King Jaehaerys’s firstborn son, but her mother was Jocelyn Baratheon. Our blood was meant to be on the Iron Throne through her before the Great Council.”

A grin came over Robb, as you did knowing exactly what conclusion he came to as you did. “Shame how that never turned out for your House. Baratheons on the Iron Throne.” Your eyes rolled, only to turn in his arms to look more up at him. Your hands grasping at his waist, looking down his shirt mostly left open and his breeches just barley pulled on. Perhaps your eyes lingered just a tad too long, his hand nudging your face up to meet his eyes from under your chin with a knowing glint in his bright blue eyes. “See something you like?”

Biting down on your tongue, any clever retort died on your lips before you let your hands drift upwards. Sliding flat against his torso, slightly letting them drift inside his shirt before running up along his collarbones still under the shirt before wrapping around the back of his neck. Robb held a smile, something both smug and yet soft down towards you, knowing he had caught you leering when you had been in such a more serious conversation. “Can you blame me?”

Oh the grin Robb gave you, making something needy in you almost ready to let the robe fall from your shoulders here and now. “My needy little wife.” Seeing a bright look grow on his face, coming to a realization before your eyes that not you had even gotten to yet. “So thats why you’ve been desperate for me for weeks now.” A flush fell over you, painting over your eyes so obviously as it only made Robb lean down with something more smug overtaking everything else in his eyes and voice. “My needy, pregnant wife can’t get enough of her husband.”

Trying to suddenly leave, your feet carried you only a few paces back into the room before Robb followed. Tugging you right back into his chest. “Oh no, you’re not running from this.” Instead of letting both hands stay at your hips, he let one rise up. Sliding down into the exposed loose fabric of your robe, he found your breast with a greed right away.

Grasping roughly as you gasped, your voice stammering in a pathetic attempt to pretend he couldn’t see so clearly how easily he worked you up. “It isn’t-it’s not that bad..”

Seeking your nipple, he twisted and tugged as much he could from the position he was in. His lips running along your check upwards towards your ear as he was warm in both sound and the breathe against your skin. “So if I pull this off,” His other hand now grasping at the tie keeping you dressed against the cool air as you tensed up, but from nerves, need or the shocks pleasured through you as he groped at your breast, you couldn’t tell. “And slip my hand between your pretty legs, I won’t find you wet already?” You knew he knew it was a lie, but you shook your head no to try. Robb only laughed. ‘You’re a bad liar, my love.”

Ever so slowly, Robbs hand grasped at the loose tie around your waist, pulling enough you felt every tug and pull and the fabric as it loosened around your front. A knock at the door however, stopped both of you in your tracks. Eyes flying upwards as a voice spoke muffled through, “Pardon, your grace, a message for you.”

Looking down at you, your eyes wide and trapped between a need he so easily dragged out of you, or a conflict of wanting to desperately asking him to ignore all his duties and strip you bare and take you back to the bed for anything he wanted to give you. Robb though, grinned before pressing his lips to your cheek. “Tonight, my Queen. If you’re good and wait for it, that is.”

Your eyes fluttered closed, a sigh leaving you in a high pitched need before Robb prompted you across the room for you to begin getting dressed. Moving himself towards the door, only opening it enough his figure could be seen as to indicate that whatever was needed would need a moment to get himself together.

It was an odd time for the feeling to strike, that the other lords would need to be told. Catelyn would need to be told. By the end of the day everyone would know, there would be no chance Robb wanted to hide his pregnant wife from his men, proudly wanting to show you off.

Routine at least sufficed for now, standing before him, you were so used to dressing him that neither of you even needed to say anything. He got his under clothes on, and you came to his side to put on his armour. Something at that point, you felt you could do with your eyes closed. His though were open and peeled down to your person. Not reaching out to you to interrupt, but his voice never found reason to hold back.

Robb always ready to fill the air to your quiet, that time a softness and adoration dripping through. “You’re going to have to stop wearing all this.” Your eyes flying upwards, he only flickered down to yourself. “I’m keeping you with me, but if you think I’m letting you anywhere near a battlefield, you are mistaken.” Your head looked up with a flat expression, but he didn’t listen to your silent protest at all. “My mother should have some dresses she could spare for you until we get to Riverrun. Have ones of your own made then that have room for when you start showing.” His eyes looked up as if pausing in thought before looking back down, your hands still uninterrupted at work. “Did the healers tell you how far along you are?”

Your eyes flickered up and back down quickly, your name coming from his lips accusingly. Your eyes down against his chest as you did the straps properly, voice quiet and knowing you’d get into trouble for not mentioning it. “Just over two moons..”

Name coming out more with an audacity, you knew Robb didn’t mean it angrily but he took the tone regardless as if scolding you. “You’ve been pregnant for two months, and you’ve known what? A month of that time and kept it from me?” Muttering under your breath you knew he didn’t hear you, he leaned down, “What’s that?”

Only saying quietly as if to put blame off of you, “Maege has known for a fortnight now.”

If you would’ve looked up to see Robbs face, you’d have seen the most fallen flat expression on him you’d ever seen. Mumbling under his breath with an annoyance you knew he only half meant. “Remind me to have a chat with her later.” Shaking your head with an amusement, you ran your hands along the armour against his arms as it separated from the leathers with a sigh. One signifying a satisfaction in your own work as he glanced down and back to you with a bright expression. “How does a man ever need a squire when he has you?”

A brief flicker of your eyes up and then back down, you only shrugged as you turned to put on a more loose fur lined coat almost too quickly for Robb to even move to do it for you, much to his dismay. Mumbling a bit as you fussed with the clasps at the front, you knew it was something a tad more insecure as it came from you. “It might be a better idea if you’re the one who tells the news to your mother.” Asking why, you felt his presence pace a bit closer but you didn’t look back yet. Still a bit under your breath as if trying to pass yourself off as casual when he knew better. “After yesterday, I don’t think she’d appreciate me coming to her to let her know she is to be a grandmother.” Glancing back up, you let a sigh more come out hoping the nerves left with it, which only marginally worked. “It may come across as insensitive to come from me right now.”

Nodding, Robb let his hands trail down your arms with a warm tone to match his soft gaze towards you. “I’ll handle my mother, you try not to let the men overwhelm you when they find out.” Asking how quickly that would get out, Robb rose an eyebrow as if assuming you should know the answer already, which perhaps you did as he said it. “Once I tell her, the first solider that overhears will tell another-”

Your voice came out much more flat and monotone then his own, knowing the teasing of Northerners coming your way. “Then the entire camp will know by midday.” Robbs head tilted in agreement before letting a hand rise up.

Cupping your cheek as he ran his thumb along the softer skin and tilted you up to meet his gaze as he stepped a tad closer to you. “We’ll make it through this, do you understand?” The words were firm even if his voice had not been, a gentle manner of trying to assure you there was nothing to be scared of. There was, but not for this. Of all things, Robb only wished you not be scared of what was to come with this. But you trusted him without a doubt.

Nodding gently, Robb didn’t say anything further. Instead choosing to lean down, and press his lips to yours. Nothing of greed or even a passion, but something lingering and chaste as you felt him savour the feeling as your hands slid up along his torso to around the back of his neck. His free hand sitting at your waist pulling you closer as he barley allowed himself to part before seeking you out again.

This marriage was nothing either of you expected. Thrusted upon both of you without any foresight that this was coming, you could only imagine how he must have felt hearing of it. You knew yours was less of a reaction and more of a shock.

For years, your father had done all he could to keep you from being pursued by the apparent many suitors which held interest in your name and status. Choosing rather to keep you firmly at his side, learning his trade and skills to one day prepare you to take over Dragonstone when the time came. You weren’t a son, which is what he always wanted, but you were all he had in place of one, and Stannis Baratheon was not a man to leave himself woefully under prepared when he could help it.

You had tried to argue, that he could not just throw this on you, then tear you back here to do his job while he was away when he wouldn’t even explain to you what was going on. For a Baratheon, your father did not often raise his voice, but he had a different tactic with you. A more edge to it that bordered on about to be lectured and it almost sprung something in your head that naturally feared getting on his bad side. Telling you with a deep frustration that he didn’t want to hear another word and that you were doing this no matter what. He had claimed it was the Kings choice and he had none.

The next day you were the only one brave enough to accompany your uncle to the throne room where Jon Arryn’s body was being prepared by the Silent Sisters. Asking in a quiet voice as you both stood to the side, why he was so sudden on this marriage. It was then he told you that it was in fact your father who came to him, all but demanding he make this betrothal as soon as possible. He had already gotten on a boat to Dragonstone then, you couldn’t ask him.

You knew now, why he used you as a pawn to gain the loyalty of the Starks and therefore the North, not that it worked. Only just barley opening your eyes as Robb pulled back, he looked down at you with all the softness you grew up thinking a husband would never show you. It came easy to Robb, as loving him came easy to you.

It had been a very long time since you ever knew something you wanted, but even standing in the blasted ruins of a haunted castle, you could say you had right in front of you all you could ever want. As long as you and Robb had one another now, that was enough. Just as it was enough with the little one between you.

Not all showed perfect respect to your position, but some were more amusing about it then others.

A sudden shout of your name had you turn on the spot some hours later, but not enough before all but being slammed into with a mighty grab. Looking up, the ever bright look in Dacey Mormonts eyes were enough to catch your attention as did her words, “My bloody mother kept this a secret from me for weeks. You trusted her with it but not me?”

A laugh came from you, knowing this was as good as a congratulations to her. “I never really told her, she put it together and I simply never denied it.” Daceys face only dropped amusingly flat, stating that such a thing wasn’t the same as what she meant. Letting an arm stay around you though she backed off enough so you didn’t looked like she was about to tackle you once more. “I wasn’t going to firmly tell anyone without a doubt before Robb.”

Dacey only giving her mother Maege a narrow eyed expression which she clearly read as a question. The later nodding amusingly towards you with a jesting tone, “I tried telling her she’s a fool for thinking he’d be anything but over the moon. Stubborn as all hell this one. If I didn’t know any better I’d say you were one of my own girls.”

Sitting you down, more familiar faces begun to gather but it was all in good fun it seemed, teasing you for what seemed the only good news any had heard and would hear for a long time. But it wasn’t the same everywhere, or for everyone.

While back and forths were made at your expense, the air was not the same level of ease in the room Robb stood in. He knew she wouldn’t handle it as well as she might have were their lives all normal as they desperately yearned for, but he had to tell her himself. She’d figure it out and he needed his mother to to be at your side. She half raised you along with his father, Robb knew she deeply cared about you but for many reasons she had let personal feelings get in the way of being there for you the way Robb knew she wanted to.

“She’ll be in danger.”

Robbs voice though raised. Because despite the amount of understanding he could afford her, to did he feel at his wits end going rounds with his mother about you. Some subjects were far worse for his sanity then others, but all aggravating the same. “You think I don’t know that?”

Catelyns face twisted into her own frustration as she turned away. A hand running along her mouth before turning back to her son. “She should stay at Riverrun once we get there.” Robb only muttered that he wasn’t going to hide you away from him the entire war. “She will be safe there.”

Robb turned to face his mother with the hope he looked a bit more collected then full of a nerve then he felt broaching that topic. “Anywhere but by my side she’s not safe.” Catelyn took a moment to look at her son, seeing through his facade as a mother always could and saw the worry in his eyes all too well. Only getting as far as his name when Robb trampled over what would be her consoling to explain himself further with more coherency. “Mother, I didn’t bring her into this fight to hide her away. She’s my wife, and my Queen. I want her by my side, where she belongs.” Gesturing vaguely out to the walls they both knew Robbs men were scattered about. “My men all listen to her, respect her as much they do me. She could’ve gone anywhere, but she rode day and night to come to me when she escaped Kings Landing. I didn’t want to leave her behind then, and I won’t do it now.”

Looking away for a moment, Robb knew sometimes that was hard to consider. Knowing how much this marriage was dumped onto he and you both, Catelyn could almost forget that Robb knew you for near fifteen years before then. You weren’t some stranger, you were someone he knew and cared about but watching how deeply in love her son fell in such a short period of time was jarring he figured.

And it was fast, but Robb knew he has no problem with that. Everything between he and you started fast and he saw no reason to slow that down when you both were comfortable. Your own wedding night, a flustered, shy maiden but you did not hesitate. You knew what was expected of you, and instead of doing it out of only duty, you allowed Robb to teach you how to enjoy it, how to enjoy each other and you never looked back. Why should he? Why slow down when nothing about your lives together would ever give you a chance to do that?

Only when he had you and his child safe in Winterfell would he be able to slow down with you, but he wasn’t afforded that luxury just yet. So he was going to keep the speed you both went at, and that meant keeping you at his side to ensure you both always were at the same pace. Never one maybe leaving the other behind.

But, his mother had a point in her next words. “She’ll be in far more danger when word of this gets out beyond your men, Robb. Both of you will be in far more danger. If the Lannisters hear word that you are to have an heir-”

Robb only cut her off to solely finish her sentence. “They’ll do whatever they can do stop it.” Thinking for a moment, Robb only found himself sitting down. His mother slowly approaching to sit across from him at the small table of her temporary bedchambers. In truth, he wasn’t sure why he said it, but if he could be that honest in front of anyone, no matter their issues now, he could do so in front of his mother.

A furrow in his brow and a roughness to his voice as he said it, not looking at anything in particular. “I thought I’d already be a father by now.” Her eyes flying up to look at her son, but he did not return the gaze. Trapped in a memory of what he wished. “I knew she had to go back to Kings Landing, but I kept hoping she wouldn’t stay. That something would change early and she could come back to Winterfell. Nothing going wrong and maybe I could’ve ended up where I am now by the end of that year at least.” It was a thought, and it was distant and sad but he saw it and he knew his mother of all people would not judge him for it. “They’d nearly by two by now.” Your name coming back up. “Maybe she’d be in the same position, only she’d be pregnant with a second. Make you a grandmother in better circumstances.”

Catelyn let out a gentle huff meant to replace a laugh, the image not too far from the life she truly envisioned for her first boy. Robb had always wanted a family of his own, and while it being with you came as a suprise, all she had wanted for him was what Robb wanted now. For him to have that family, to be together where you all belonged. Not dead or lost or scattered or sworn away to a life never to have a family of their own.

Everything now felt broken, and Robb wouldn’t let go of what was left. And really, what truly was left to him was you and that baby. He loved his mother, but you and the baby were a bright spot on his darkened life. Something hopeful and something that spoke that a future for you all still existed. You and that baby to him were everything and he wasn’t going to leave you behind. Maybe you wouldn’t be safe out here with him, but you’d be together at least.

His mothers voice cutting in, no doubt trying to lighten the mood for his sake. “Do you have any idea what it is yet? Boy or girl?”

Robb only shook his head. “We haven’t gotten that far. She’s two months though, it won’t be long until the healers will be able to make a good guess.” His mother repeating the two specifically with a more narrowed gaze of question that he tilted his head with an answer. “Everything around us, she didn’t realize when she started feeling different until far passed what most women notice.”

He knew she didn’t mean it that way, but she still said it rather dry. “Well, after taking almost two years.”

Robbs gaze turned towards her with almost a glare, “The war has been hard on her.” Not saying anything, he almost now defended his own ability. “It wasn’t for the lack of trying.” Catelyn only gave a bit of a huffing scoff, muttering that she was unfortunately well aware of that.

His mother looked as if she had something more to say, and he knew what. She wanted to say his father would be proud of him, but she had said it once and he wasn’t ready to hear it only months after he was gone. But, he wasn’t ready now either. His mother was to have a grandchild, and he was still fighting a war against the Lannisters who took his fathers ability to meet his grandchild away in the first place.

Robb called his banners to rescue his father, but in turn the gods took him, his sister, and his brothers away from him. The only ones left to share this with were right here, and it was not lost on Robb that he didn’t feel proud of that. He didn’t even know if he’d ever be able to share his new life with Sansa either. With Tywin Lannister in Kings Landing, it was impossible to guess what fate could possibly befall the only sister he had left.

His sisters adored you. Sansa for years now had tried to pretend it was otherwise since growing to her teens, but he knew better. Deep down, Sansa was still that little girl who clung to your leg wanting to beg mother to let you stay and be her big sister forever. She’d be thrilled to be an aunt, but now he dared not think how she would hear that news. What those people must be saying around her of this war and her family, what they were no doubt forcing her to say just to survive.

Robb only had two siblings left to him, and they were the two which he was not sure would ever get a chance to share the new life for this family Robb was building with you.

If anything was true, it was all rather simple for Robb to find you despite being in this place. With the intimidating size of Grey Wind as he always found himself at your side, Robb seldom found it hard to seek you out. Whether he somehow could tell where his direwolf was, or something far stranger neither of you knew how to bring up was going on, regardless, Robb found you with ease.

A hand running along your back to slightly keep you more pressed into his side as Robb came up behind you, you heard his voice address his men with as much collected form as possible considering you knew all day he and you had been bombarded with Northern celebration of their Kings news. “If you could give me a moment with the Queen.”

Much like the rowdiness his father could summon, Smalljon Umber easily carolled the other men and lords up and out. “You hear the King. It’s a big castle, plenty of places to fuck off to.” Not leaving himself though, the just as large man he was like his father, gave a mighty pat on the arm to Robb with a knowing look as Robb only nodded with a held back smile.

Head turning both of you to watch as the last of them fell from earshot, Robb leaned to mutter amusingly in your ear, “Hope they haven’t been giving you the kind of grief they’ve given me.” Turning to him with a curiosity, you only asked what exactly was the kind of grief they were giving him. Robb though, only smirked, turning you to lean you more back against the table as he stood at your front, making you more comfortable as he could manage. “Heard more then enough about how they have no idea why it took you and I so long.”

Raising a brow, your voice was calm as your arms gently crossed along your front. “And, did you also explain to them that being at war makes that sort of thing not so simple?”

It seemed though Robb had an amusement within him. “Oh it is that easy, my love. It’s having it take that was the troublesome part. Not that I didn’t try.” Your gaze filtered away a bit, a fluster wanting to rise up into your face despite how little of yourself you had to hide from Robb at this point. A hand rose up, running along your cheek as you let your hands sit comfortably at his sides. His other sat at your hip, his eyes torn between your face and stomach. “I’m leaving Roose Bolton to hold Harrenhal, he and his men will keep any of whatever scattered Lannisters still out there from coming back here, and we should have everything North secured from them at the least.”

Nodding, your hands felt the need to toy with something, almost fidgeting against his side innocently as if the day had begun gathering up and needing to be expelled somewhere. “Well, at least Lord Bolton suits this place far better then Janos Slynt.” Robbs eyes narrowed a tad as you elaborated. “Commander of the City Watch, a complete imbecile.” Robb only let out a breathy laugh at how plainly you had put it, causing you to look up at him more amused trying to defend your own words. “If you spoke to him you’d agree. Well, maybe you wouldn’t. I’m fairly certain it was just me he had a particular hatred for. They gave him Harrenhal as a reward for arresting myself and your father.” Muttering almost under your breath, “So skilled, having his men do the killing while he held a knife up to the throat of an unarmed girl.”

Looking up and around, Robb only turned back to your attention with a bemused question. “What exactly about this place suits Roose Bolton better then?”

Your answer made him genuinely laugh at how plainly you put it right away. “A cursed ruined castle that everyone fears? Why wouldn’t a man like him suit that?” Robb only saying you had a point, something of the man as admirable to seek as counsel as he was intimidating and off putting to a somewhat fearful degree. You dared not imagine what being at the mercy of a man like him would be should he see you as an enemy.

Leaning you back more against the table in a loungeful manner, Robb let his hands sit more along your waist and hip as he stepped into you with bright eyes. “I was wondering,” Your head turning a bit in wonder not knowing how much he was going to trap you in this spot. “Do you still remember anything in High Valyrian?”

If you thought you could afford to pull away, you would’ve tried. Your eyes and face as flat as you could possible make them. “And why are we bringing that up?” Robb only pointed out the obvious, that this place was now synonymous with the Targaryeans, and he knows you learned their language and he wondered if you were still fluent. “I might be.”

“Say something.” Your voice raised more high pitched but amusingly incredulous with wide eyes to match as you asked why. But Robb only laughed, keeping you close in his hold. “I’ve never heard you speak it before, I want to hear you say at least something.”

“You-”

Cutting yourself off as you looked away with an exaggerated sigh, Robb only grinned brighter knowing he wouldn’t let you leave until you did. “Just one sentence.” Another deep sigh, you didn’t return his touch. Crossing your arms over your chest instead almost like a petulant child asking what he wanted you to say. His answer was just as audacious. “How about my pretty little wife tells me in her foreign language how much she’s looked forward to her King taking her apart tonight?”

Biting down against your tongue, you didn’t want the fluster to arise, giving credence to the fact that he was right and you had indeed been thinking about it. In this state, it was becoming so much more wanting within you to just stay in bed with Robb and focus on nothing else, much to your complete embarrassment over your sudden needs.

“Nyke'll sagon va ñuha ondos se knees syt ñuha dārys, gō kessa sesīr jorrāelagon naejot demand nyke naejot beg zirȳla syt ziry.”

It came out smoother then you thought it would. It had been years since you spoke a word but it came out as naturally as it did as you were fluent. It seemed that fluency did not leave, and what a joy you thought. In no way shape or form did your future entail anything that would make still being fluent in High Valyrian in any way useful.

Robb looked amused though, enjoying the way it rolled off your tongue in a manner which almost held a bit of an accent not yours. The idea taught to you that speaking another language in the accent its spoken in normally, makes it come more fluent and natural to any ears who understand it. “What did you say?”

As if you were going to tell him that. Saying something far more debauched then you’d want to come out of your mouth in Common willingly. No one around knew what you said, you’d rather they not. Prompting you once, twice to get you to tell him, you just laughed saying his name in protest. “You asked me to say something, not to say something you’d ever understand. Maybe I just said you’re a ponderous oaf with a fat head.”

Robb only held more of a smirk and a glint in his eye. “I’ve trained my good girl far too well to worry she’s insulting me in another language.” Your eyes widened as you looked around, but any scattered eyes could not hear you even a little bit. His lips pressing to your cheek before he grasped your chin, leaning down and turning you to face him, his breath dancing across your skin as he muttered lowly, “If I had to guess, my girl just told me how much she wants me to throw her on her hands and knees tonight.”

Your eyes wished to explode from their sockets as you felt a complete embarrassment fill you. “How-”

Robb only grinned with such a smug look that was so enticing on his handsome face. “I know my wife by now.” Before pressing his lips back to yours. Keeping you against him for longer that time, both of you taking the rare moments in such a strange and dour place to feel any happiness. That Harrenhal could ever be a memory of good for anyone, let along yourself and Robb. But as your arms rested along the back of his neck as you kissed him right back, it was certainly so. A place where some good actually arose.

The dreams however, were not. As a night of passion once more between lovers, once sleep fell upon you did strange dreams fill your head. Ones never more vivid then when in the walls of this castle. Whispers in your head as if being spoken to from across the Gods Eye and filling your head with dreams you did not comprehend.

A winged shadow over the skies of Kings Landing, a freezing so cold it shivered your bones in your sleep, and a baby. Dark curls with bright eyes, not green nor blue though, a notable grey staring up at you as did a gentle womans voice whisper in your ear, that you would nearly forget by the time you awoke. As if something about the lands of Harrenhal were trying to show you something far before you were ever capable of comprehending it.

“Promise me, Ned.”

[obsessive-valentine]

Yandere!vampire x GN!Reader (HC’s)

Growing tired of a lonesome life he sets eyes on you but you can’t ever imagine yourself growing to love such a monster, he isn’t to worried believes you will come around at some point, he’s fine with waiting for a couple of centuries. For now he will just hang around and admire his first and only love; Possible Stockholm syndrome?

No one, not even you, will ever know why you were taken from your house in a beautiful but sleepy European town during dusk; but people came up with theory’s. Most agreed upon was you had been taken by the monster who’d been terrorising the village people for years now, and there was nothing they could do about it. So the case was closed, your loss mourned, then life went on thinking you were dead amongst the other random victims of the beast.

But to him you were anything but random or a victim for him to slaughter, only he knows ‘why you’. No one made it to the manor house, he resided in, alive not even him being dead himself; no one until you.

He’d kidnapped you fairly fuss-free, the only consequence was the nasty bump on the back of your head rendering you unconscious but manageable. He laid you in silks and vintage furs on a capacious bed with gold a painted frame and placed ice on your head in an attempt to soothe the ache in your skull.

You were scared into submission by the creature for the first few days - you could have mistaken it for the devil himself with red eyes that bored into your soul and sharp threatening teeth. He responded in short sentences, usually stern and held a disinterested expression that made his eyes look more menacing than he truly was. It was confusing to decipher what he wanted from you, he didn’t seem to want blood but neither to happy about your unwilling company.

“I wanted you, so I took you. Lets not complicate it”

You’d come to learn that he wasn’t unhappy with you at all that was just the sort of face he has, being isolated for uncountable years meant his emotional awareness and expressions had grown rusty to say the least. You’d learn he just liked to be in the same room as you, he didn’t toy with you or worse, he came to sit in the corner of your bed room one in a while and read or write while you busied yourself with one of the many things he gifted you (found laying around in a draw unused for many years) or slept.

In fact he let you get away with a lot like how you’d try everything from retaliating verbally or physically but he’d only respond with a scowl of disapproval or a strong grip around your wrist briefly to remind you just who he was. He knows all about the grieving process having been through it and seen people go through it over and over, so he’d let you grieve over your lost life but doesn’t appreciate when you get really rowdy; bringing you back to earth with tough-love.

...

At some point during the first year of being kidnapped you’d given into harsh-reality, noticing there was no chance of escape as he hears your every foot step, and that even if you did there would be nowhere to go. Seeing you become more obedient encouraged him to soften a bit more, to meet you in the middle, and you let him grow closer after noticing his intentions couldn’t be that bad since he had yet to hurt you or bite you.

There are still arguments, nights where it would all become to much for you and you’d blow up in a emotional rage, demanding you go home or ‘what his intentions are’ and why did it have to be you specifically. So he’d let you hit and shout until you grow tired and your throat sore, wordlessly he’d pull you into his chest where you’d be forced to stay for the next hour. Doesn’t really take anything to heart during these arguments, he knows -at most- a centuries time you will be happy and love him maybe as half as much as he loves you.

Other nights his frustrations get the best of him and he shouts back, demanding ‘you get used to it’ that your friends and family stopped looking for you long ago and he’s all you have now etc. You’d storm away to your bed and he’d sit frustrated in his chair for a while before quietly entering your room and joining you in your bed to hold you and whisper apology’s, making sure you fall into a peaceful sleep before he leaves.

Forced bonding through board and card games!

Of course he sleeps in a coffin, a luxurious one in the room next door to yours, and he wants nothing more than for you to sleep in there with him but wouldn’t bring it up until your inevitable turning where he make you a vampire just like him. You didn’t think he would let you die and leave him to wallow in heart break for the rest of eternity did you?

This man has had so much time on his hands that he’s messed around with most every hobby, most recently (almost a century) he’s taking a liking to the violin. Sometimes he plays while you sleep and no longer around to entertain him (downstairs, as far from your room to not bother you) and sometimes the muted melody wakes you up for a moment or weasels it’s way into the dream you are in. It comforts you a bit, chasing away the eerie silence followed by creaks and scratching of the old manor house that would make sleep harder to come by and even harder to keep.

[yallthemwitches]

Responsible Parties

McGonagall had seen a lot of things in her 103 years of Hogwarts, but her Head student’s making use of her desk was not one of them.

A silly, fluffy, flirty fic for @jilytoberfest day 4, Prompt: Starring McGonagall—Happy Bday to the OG jily stan.

AO3 link here! Rated T for sexual situations

Minerva had seen many things come and go through the halls of Hogwarts, but she had never imagined this. 

There were many times she would have expected it. In 1953 the Head Boy, Cornell Ferguson, Hufflepuff, had been a right idiot. Then there was Katie Komisaro in 1961. She was a bright Head Girl, but always seemed to find trouble with the lads. Hell, even last year’s Alice and Frank would have been prime contenders if they both weren’t so bloody chaste about everything.

No, of course it was when two Gryffindor’s were Heads—-and of course it would be Potter. 

When the rumors were spreading about their coupling, she had tried to ignore them. There was only so much melodrama an old witch could take when working with teenagers. But having it be about the Heads, and thus her responsibility, made it a lot harder to dismiss. 

Obviously, she had seen the signs. Everybody knew the two had started going steady, they practically flaunted it. Even the professors would remark that there wasn’t a class period that passed where Lily Evans and James Potter weren’t attached to each other by the mouth the minute it was possible. Most of the time they at least made it outside to the corridor, but there were reports from professors that their antics were now encroaching into the class hours. 

“Potter claimed he was just trying to find his lost quill—-I told him Evans’ skirt was probably not where he’d find it.”

“Well a week ago she was too busy whispering in his ear and playing with his hair to notice her cauldron catch fire—”

“—And they definitely have been using some of the unused charms classrooms—-I keep finding them smiling too much in my corridor. ”

She knew they were expecting her to say something—-but if it wasn’t affecting their work, did she really have to?

She would later bemoan wanting to ever go back for her copy of Transfiguration Travails, so close from skirting disaster. They had just finished a Prefect meeting, one that went perfectly normal without incident. If anything, the Head students were being better behaved—Potter hadn’t made any dopey comments about Evans’ wit and she in turn didn’t lose herself to absently stroking his forearm when they sat together. It seemed like progress, really. Character growth— perhaps they had made it to the end of the honeymoon period.

Ironically, that was what she had thought to herself as she turned all the way back around towards her office. The meeting couldn’t have let out longer than twenty minutes before and she half expected the room to be cleared, head students long gone to their respective classes.

Now, she sat with her two Head students, Transfiguration Travails completely forgotten and everyone’s schedules cleared for the near future. Her mind swam, trying and failing to erase the knowledge that the desk she was sitting at was the site of some very intense shagging just moments before. 

It seemed like a good time to retire. Looking between a very disheveled Evans and a slightly flushed but smug Potter, she wondered what kind of severance pay she could wheedle out of Albus.

“It’s my fault professor.”

 McGonnagall didn’t even look at her. “Miss Evans, you don’t need to lie—”

“No, I’m telling the truth.”

McGonagall watched as Potter’s face grew more smug. She always hated how he and Black were capable of smiling even when being given the harshest of punishments. She hated even more that, despite it all, she had a soft spot for him ever since first year—-at least Evans looked mortified. 

“I would like to go on record and attest that she is not lying—she did start it.” Potter was too chuffed for his own good. 

McGonagall sighed. They were her brightest students and yet didn’t think of using a simple locking charm?

She looked between the couple. Even embarrassed and waiting for judgment, their bodies angled towards the other, knees touching. Noticing the shade of Evans’ face and the slight quiver of her lip, Potter reached out to leave a comforting hand on her lower thigh, stroking slightly with his thumb. 

Damn it.

“I won’t give you any real form of punishment,” she heard herself say before digesting what it meant, “—but this will not happen again. ”

“Of course, professor.” Evans squeaked out. Potter just nodded, knowing better to make promises he couldn’t keep.

At her ruling, Evans’ shoulder relaxed and her quivering stilled. She reached for James’ hand, but rather pushing it away like McGonagall expected, she threaded their fingers together in her lap. 

McGonagall had seen many things at Hogwarts in her 103 years and love, albeit stupid, rule-breaking love, was still a special thing to witness. 

In hindsight, she should have seen it coming, but then again Potter was not the most predictable of lads. Not even a few hours after she had dismissed them, she stepped back into her office and found a brand new desk, already filled with her parchments and books, still shining from the laquer on the mahogany wood. A note waited:

Don’t worry—-we didn’t christen it.

Her Head students were certainly something, but idiots didn’t begin to cover it. 

[kiefbowl]

this is a random thought I had in the shower actually well over a month ago, but I've been gnawing at it in my brain...and perhaps this is going to sound pathetic and a bit esoteric.

So, it suddenly dawned on me very randomly while I was showering that I have been paying for netflix for my own account since I was a freshman in college. Back in the dvd days, I remember having Firefly sent to me disk by disk my fall semester. This is 2009. It was an important part of college because I let my friends use it on their console and we'd all go to their dorm and watch streaming, and I passed out my log in to a ton of friends. I basically provided free Netflix to more or less 10 or so people over the course of four years for not even $7 a month I think.

What hit me though was that means, this year - that will be 15 years. That's what stopped me in my shower to stare off in the abyss for like 10 minutes and what's been on my mind for the past several weeks. I've been paying netflix for 15 years, which is the longest I've ever done anything. There is no other company I've so consistently paid for like this either, not for that many of years not even close. Quite possibly my longest relationship outside of my family and 2-3 other people. Netflix, the ever constant, of all forsaken things.

And what really bothers me about it is that, uhm, not to be an American consumer but like...I don't feel appreciated by netflix. For the past few years, I've barely used it, except for a few titles I've wanted to watch. I haven't passed out my log in since I changed it not long after college to keep an ex using it for free. I've remained loyal, despite the fact that I don't feel like some sort of loyal consumerist. I don't give a fuck about brands, I try to shop as little as possible, thrift what I can. And yet, what can I say? I actually am a loyal consumerist, to netflix that is.

What a shock to realize this, and what a shock to realize netflix does not acknowledge this, no email saying thanks, no surveys, no swag, no pizza party, no invite no perk no discount no nothing. Instead they raise prices, cut services, lose licenses, and cancel barely finished products. I'm 15 years loyal to this company for this?

And I think about the days of yore, but really not long ago. The preferred shopper's catalogues of department stores, the longtime shopper promotions of industry giants, the award systems for the loyal consumerists of chains and malls. The specialty Christmas items that are today vintage and worth money for their rarity. The thank yous, the special events. The mailers that say "Come to our store loyal customer and receive a free $20 coupon for that day!" And I'm not saying this is good, and of course it's all just marketing and advertisement, and I'm not saying this is the life I want to live...

But I am saying this would be easy for netflix to do, for someone like me. Someone who went from $7 to stream and receive DVDs, who got customers onboard when the model was new and the company was pioneering, to $20 to sit unused but for a month or two out of the year. It would be easy to pull the data. It would be easy to say which accounts have been opened the longest, to actually verify who has given 180 months worth of payments to them. It would be easy to give me a year's discount to say thank you. It would be easy for them to send an email to verify my address to send me merch. Do I want the merch? No, not really. But have they tried?

Have they even sent me an email saying "We appreciate your 15 years of support! We value you!" with little confetti animation? They didn't do it at 10 years. They didn't do it at 5 years. I don't recall ever receiving emails from netflix besides "Unfortunately, our payment model is changing."

As of today, I haven't pulled my account yet. I want to finish Bridgerton, even if this season is a snoozefest. But I think I will. I feel had and used, as pathetic as that sounds. Has Hulu done anything different? I can't remember when I signed up for them but it's been many years. No, but I frankly use it more, so I'm less angry. And with netflix...it's been fifteen years. They have really banked on us being passive in our payments, and accustomed to the freedom of endless choice, and it just feels gleeful that they never even once acknowledged I've been here this whole time. Actually, act like Sears and Bloomingdales 60 years ago, or we quit I think we should say. Ask me my address to send me a glass netflix mug or I'll fuck off, because who do you think you are to think so little of me, the only reason you exist for?

[claire-starsword]

Status Update On The Final Conflict Sprite Hack, alternatively titled, The Thrilling Saga of Promoted Julia, or even, Claire, Give Fucking Context To The Dumb Shit You've Been Posting Already

don't worry besties, i keep the world's most ridiculous hacking notes for this stuff, and i'd really like to share some of them now. Ever wanted to know how messy a Game Gear ROM can be? Ever wanted to read a mad scientist's ramblings about it? come on a journey with me.

(note that i'm not gonna explain much of the technical stuff for now, i'd love to document everything about this game eventually but that's a big task, tonight is for funsies only. so just stare at these bytes like they're eldritch abonimations for now because frankly, they are)

Anyway it all began more than a year ago, when I started digging data on this game. I started with palettes because those are kinda easy to understand, and i honestly don't recall how i got to the map sprites from there, but i did, and thus registered it was in my mad scientist ramblings.

and on that beautiful note, i kinda put aside this project for a whole year, until going back somewhere around last october to try to make a script to imitate the game's compression and thus finally be able to insert sprites. As you might know, it took a christmas miracle to finish it. And because I was and am still afraid of how many extra bytes my battle sprites are gonna take, i shifted my attention to map sprites first, since those were obviously going to be much simpler. *ominous silence* I mean, I already had all these addresses above, right? I'd just have to replace them all, and then go find Julia.

and yeah! that's the last post I made about it on New Year's Eve, I had fun, I bragged about the compression working well only to regret my hubris later because it very much ISN'T, we're desperate for extra space in this land, I championed centaur rights only to again regret my hubris because they're currently the only ones with no promotion sprite, I'M SORRY OKAY i'm trying to fix it we're really lacking bytes in this land

but anyway, it was still going great. Not like the centaurs change much after promotion anyway, the art was still an improvement, and thus I filled the whole memory block. Everyone was there. Except Julia.

It feels clear to me that the devs just ran into the same problem, ran out of space right at the last character. Still sucks that they didn't place her at the next block, but hey, whatever, I easily coded a sprite ripper now that I knew how to deal with the compression, she couldn't be that far, right?

of course she was i'm making a post about it

(note: "hooded" mishaela was me misremembering things. i meant this simpler sprite of her, as opposed to the one with a visible face that shows up for most of the game. The fact that this one is the one stored in a coherent way makes me think it was the first one they made, and only later they decided to give her a better face as someone who was gonna have so many scenes)

this is the mess I was looking at, and here's the full sprite for comparison. I have nothing else to add, I understand having separate eye tiles for the animation and I accept that some stuff just got thrown in the end of unrelated block to use the space. But the chair tiles??? no idea what's up with those. For all I know the entire image is just spread around like this.

I haven't looked though, because I had other priorities at the time.

to summarize the next ten billion annotations, this block had a bunch of out of order pointers for every spell effect in the game, including some blank pointers god knows why. Because my script for ripping stuff is amateurish and jank as fuck, i also couldn't tell how many tiles exactly each image has, so this took a lot of trial and error.

There were way smarter ways to find Julia btw, and i'll get to them soon. Still, do i regret this? Of course not. I was gonna want to scrub the whole ROM for unused data one way or another, and knowing all these addresses paves the way for a lot of future changes should I decide to make them. It's pretty nice to know this much about the game. Now, do I regret doing all of this in a single sitting, in a single sunday, ten or so hours of looking non-stop at some garbage bytes?

yeah

i have a few regrets, yeah

remember kids, sometimes it's good to step away from your complicated project a bit.

Anyway, the smarter way of doing this that I mentioned earlier is to use a goddamn debugger to track where the game is reading stuff from, especially since I already knew where the function that reads and decompresses images is located. I'm not very experienced with using the debugger, and even so it wasn't too hard to find it. The pointer led to block $38000. If you're keeping track of these numbers, you might realize this is before the place I started, not after. Despite that starting block.. really looking like a starting block. You know, with all the first characters. Why is there stuff before it? The likely answer is that things got messy the more stuff the devs had to put in, but I also like the answer that they just hated my guts personally.

Anyway! I put my little scripts to the test. Attempted to rip all the offset in the block. First ones did not work, and are likely not even graphics, because again, this is a mess. The 23th came out broken, and eventually I figured out it was a tileset for Galam Castle, see I told you there was a reason I was messing with maps all of a sudden. The reason was, a tileset can be in the middle of the characters. Actually, I have already found way two tilesets, both in the middle of unrelated stuff. I have yet to see a block consisting of mostly tilesets. They're just, around.

Who cares though. After this tileset, finally the clouds parted. There it was. The joy of my life, the light of my eyes.

i was so stressed between searching for Julia and dreading the upcoming task of redrawing 50 or so enemies that I don't care much for, that it completely slipped my mind that eventually I would get to redraw Adam for this game. I legit screamed his name when I saw him, absolute joyful moment, you had to be there.

So yeah, stole Julia's thunder a little, sorry woman. She was there though, very last character on the block, after a bunch of NPCs. Not wanting to mess up this far, I was a bit more careful than I was with the previous block, taking the time to count how many bytes I would need before inserting stuff.

the byte economy is harsh and unforgiving.

anyway, it was always obvious that i would have to learn how to reallocate sprites to other blocks, but this made it clear that i would have to start looking into that like, now. And I would have to find a block with enough space to receive new stuff too, which was looking unlikely with how many things were shoved around in all of them. I tried to save space on this block by messing around with the castle tileset first though.

I saved a total of 50 bytes.

Yeah.

Without much idea on what to do, I just went looking for Mishaela's sprite since it was one of the few missing at that point. Hilariously, she's all alone in a certain block that contains no other graphical data as far as I can tell. It's just her there. I really don't understand why they gave her two sprites, and I would guess it wasn't a very organized decision.

And that's when it hit me, like, yeah, society really has no use for two Mishaelas. It wouldn't hurt much if I reassigned her to use a single sprite, and used this space for Julia instead, right?

So uh, Mishaela's sprites are 557 bytes.

You see Julia's sprites above? Sum up all their sizes together.

The byte economy is harsh and unforgiving.

Small setback though, I could reallocate one of NPCs in her place, as some of them had compressed better.

And that was it, I found the table that points each character to their respective memory block and index, I tested it by bullying Max because of course, and then I assigned the thief NPCs to Mishaela's address. See it all makes sense in context.

And at long last, several weeks after doing the whole rest of the team, I could finally see the final force member.

And my beloved Adam.

And even other NPCs, like Cynthia's grandpa abo-

...

anyway, yeah, it's still a work in progress.

[blossomajesty-archive]

What to do what to do

Tldr; before I become consumed by the Monhun brainworms again come Wilds I want to move operations to a proper sideblog because:

1) tumblr never implemented account switching and it’s mad annoying to log in and out

2) I'm not allowed to make my real account an admin of this blog and operate that way bc this is a “main” blog. Lame.

Otherwise, just tossing up the question of if I should delete this blog (bc I dislike having an unused account) or keep it up as some sort of archive, since I know people hate when somewhat popular blogs go deactivated. Original post got long so under the cut it goes;

It's been awhile as you can see, but tbh I haven't been "present" much on social media in general. I closed out my last semester of college (yay) so it's been rough for the better part of the past year as I went through the torture gauntlet that is exams and graduation, and another internship. Anyhow this blog is 5 years old woagh, but I haven't actually posted anything related to the story or characters introduced here in like, 3 years.

For this blog in particular, a decently-sized conundrum is that it's not a true sideblog but a separate account, and since Tunglr never made it easy to switch between accounts, its really annoying to log in and out so much (the rest of my blogs are attached to my main account now). Aside that, i've had enough of Wilds' marketing (i'm already sold and don't need to see more tbh) so I haven't been engaging a ton with monhun news and posts recently. In the meantime I was thinking of just making a MH sideblog of the same name for its original purpose of a place to spill my dumb thoughts/screenshots/ocs/whatever (one that's not so out of reach).

The question is what to do with this one; I tend to keep as few accounts as possible so I have no issue deleting it, but i'm also not normal when it comes to art and sure some would be opposed to this blog vanishing. I could compromise and make this one one of those "-archive" blogs for now if that's the case? (For more clarity I never abandon my fanfic stories/ocs if you're thinking you'll never see Surah and the like again. I tend to rotate between a couple casts of characters as my vidyagame interest shifts, bc making fanart and stories for the same series forever is a fast track to boredom and burnout. That also means No, you still can’t repost the art here or use the characters, those are still mine).

One last thing I guess is that the old "ask-a-monster" blog community/phenomenon actually went extinct a long time ago, this blog was set up the way it is for nostalgia mostly. I was planning on making note of all my unanswered asks here for prompts/inspo, but I don't see myself leaning as heavily into in-character asks ever again (with MH characters and anyone else).. It's been fun for character-writing purposes but as the fate of all the ask-blogs tells, building around it is a lot of work and always tends to fall off after a couple years. Heck, it wasn't even supposed to have so many ask posts in the first place (but don't get me wrong, it was still fun and I learned quite a bit). I’ll probably get around to posting the actual writing I’ve done that fills in some of the story gaps, but elsewhere (or in whatever new side location) as I’d rather put the blog to rest as-is than try to revive/reboot it when I'm not too keen on jumping back and forth.

No idea how many people are actually gonna read all this so I'll add this old Surah wip as compensation

[roseypwark]

Two | Unique Color

//

“Oho, look at you. You’ve got an entourage.”

Yuna does indeed have an entourage of sorts in the form of a cameraman and boom op. Their names are Jongmin and Gikwang and have been working for BigHit since 2015 and 2018, respectively.

"It's a lot, yes? You're suddenly really famous, Yuna-yah."

"Too much sometimes."

Hyowon (Kwon Hyowon, aka Pdogg, aka BTS’s main producer since ever, aka KMCA grand prize 2019 recipient) laughs, more heartily than Yuna probably deserves but he's always been entirely too gracious with her.

Yuna thinks he sees her as a charity case. Poor little abandoned girl with too much talent that she doesn't know what to do with. He's been incredibly helpful in furthering her producing skill set and in getting her an audition with BigHit Labels.

"I will get used to it, though."

"You were made for the camera. Even more so for the microphone. Did you get any ideas while you were hidden away?"

"Too many."

Yuna sets the notebook she filled to the brim in her time in I-Land on the desk. She had to start writing incredibly small near the end, filling in margins and shoving random scrap papers in between pages. Her handwriting is terrible enough that very few have been able to decipher it; trying to piece together the mod podge that is any of her notebooks would be an impossible take for anyone but herself.

"I need to get some of these off paper as soon as possible."

Hyowon makes an impressed noise.

He always seems entertained by how much content she is able to squeeze out of her brain, even if 70% of it is unusable slop and another 15% isn't worth pursuing. 10% should never have seen the light of day to begin with and that last usable 5% all depends on if Yuna can hyper-focus long enough to make a proper track.

Hyowon says she should be less critical of herself but she's just protecting herself from the inevitable harsh criticism the world will give her. If she is her own harshest critic, no on else can hurt her.

She'll never amount to anything if she releases any old garbage her head thinks up. Then again, something she abandoned a year ago because she thought it wasn’t good enough became a track on TXT's newest mini album, so maybe there's something to Hyowon’s advice.

The track Yuna makes isn’t one she would ever release under normal circumstances but for ENHYPEN&HI, to “show her unique color” and “prove her usefulness to the group,” the entire 3-hour process is documented, including the thirty minutes she spends trying to get a bass riff just right.

It will be edited down into a few minutes of screen time, maybe even less, then stuck into the first episode sometime after the first day of work and whatever next thing is exciting enough to be filmed. Yuna feels incredibly awkward the entire time, especially after Hyowon leaves for a meeting and she’s alone in his studio.

“Does Pdogg often let you use his studio alone?” Jongmin asks, apparently catching onto the fact that she’ll say nothing if not prompted.

She nods. “I started interning for him a year and a half ago? About that long. He trusts me in here.”

Jongmin prompts her occasionally while she works. “What are you doing? … What are you doing now?”

She knows it’s just for the camera, but the two men with her seem genuinely interested as she explains parts of the arrangement and production of a song to them. To the camera. She is talking to Jongmin and Gikwang but it’s for the camera. Right?

Yuna had found this all a lot for confusing than she had anticipated. She’s never sure when someone is being genuine.

Especially with the cameras all over the dorm that supposedly aren’t filming, it’s just easier for the production team to leave them up until they’re needed again but Yuna doesn’t know if she actually trusts that.

Maybe Jongmin will show her how to tell if a camera is on or not, then she can be sure. Or maybe she can just cover them with tissues or something.

//

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Tag List: @pjselee

[tmwcs]

My Roommates Ex - Chapter 3

Chapter 3! Woohoo!

Pairings: You and Heeseung

Warnings: Uh yeah, this one has lots of smut. Unprotected sex, sexual dominance, maybe a hint/vibe of slight breeding kink and pain kinks. Not terribly so with this chapter, but future chapters...yeah we're going to have a talk about that.

Summary:

Months had passed since then, and Vicky transferred to a different school. She cut off her ties with Gabe and said goodbye to the girls as she embraced a newfound outlook in life.

You were shocked the day when she told you as you entered the dorm room to see her waiting on your bed, she greeted you with a smile and patted down on a pile of neatly folded clothes and accessories that laid on your bedspread next to her.

“I wanted to give these to you. I don’t need them anymore.” She looked up to you and smiled widely.

Though it was a nice gesture, you didn’t necessarily have the same taste as Vicky when it came to clothes and the number of accessories she used. The sense of fashion was very similar, but the fondness of wearing such revealing attire, especially daily, wasn’t your thing. A crop top here and there might have been okay, but you already knew that her gift was going to be unused.

Still, you accepted them graciously.

That’s when she informed you of her decision to transfer. She explained that after thinking about it, it was something she deeply yearned for. A fresh start.

Both you and the girls went with Vicky to the airport, giving her a proper send off. Everyone cried as they took turns hugging and sharing words. You were the last one to say goodbye to, but it felt like you were the one that Vicky wanted to hug the most, upon feeling the tight and prolonged squeeze of her embrace. Her words brought the tears to glaze over your eyes.

“As painful as it was, seeing Ethan finding happiness with someone else, was something that I needed to see. It was something that needed to happen, in order for me to be the person I truly want to be.” She smiles as she admits.

Those were her last words as you before she left for her terminal, waving widely towards you and the girls as she smiled.

Keeping in touch, many texts and phone calls were exchanged daily. You were always happy to hear that Vicky was doing well, she was becoming exceedingly happy. Changing her program while also making new friends, you felt immense joy for her. Especially at the mention of a certain young man she had began seeing, a student of the same college that had fancied her ever since she transferred.

Though Vicky turned a new leaf, some things will never change. You chuckled the moment she revealed that the man was the son of the CEO that managed one of the largest corporations in the country. But you smiled whole heartedly as you saw that she still had her heart in the right place, identified as she mainly spoke of the young man’s personality more than his inheritance.

At times you gazed at the side of the room she had previously occupied, it was now stark empty. It triggered you to leak out a few tears sometimes. Knowing she was doing much better in her new setting; you couldn’t help but sometimes wish she was still with you.

Often succumbing to leaking a few tears whenever you saw her side of the room. She had become like a sister that you never had, and you would always relay that message to her whenever you got the chance to, which she would always respond with;

“We are sisters you goofball! We’re family.”

Another Saturday morning rolls by and you’re excited that Spring Break was finally here. You looked at your calendar and it amazed you just how much time had passed since you moved into the dorm, nearly a whole year from today. You recall moments from when you moved in during the spring. Moments popped in your head, like you meeting Vicky, Heeseung, and some of his closest friends, such as Jake.

It felt like it all went through in a blink of an eye. Vicky’s transfer happened only five months ago, yet it felt longer than that. You found it so strange how time had an opposing effect when it came to the experiences you gained through it.

You reach over to your desk and started going through the unread mail you picked up yesterday, seeing an envelope from Vicky got you excited as you tore it open quickly revealing an adorable postcard. It was a photo of her and the young man she had been dating, Sunghoon was his name, and he seem like such a nice man. You recall the first time you got to speak to him, when Vicky would invite him to sit next to her so he could participate in your facetime calls with her.

He was very soft and respectful; he always had this twinkle in his eye reflecting pure joy whenever he would stare at Vicky. You could tell he was a perfect match for her, and looked forward to the day when you can meet him in person and see Vicky again.

Taking a moment to review the postcard, the photo was of Vicky and Sunghoon during their visit to Africa on a safari trip. You chuckled at seeing Sunghoon and Vicky in a tight embrace with the fantastic view of wildlife in the behind them. You turn it over to read Vicky’s note on the back.

“Sis! I’m getting married! Right after college of course, but since we’re starting our second year already, the next two are going to go by even faster, so, we can’t waste time. I want to see you and the girls soon! Let’s all come up with a date for you guys to come visit me and Sunghoon next month. I’ll message in the group chat when I get back. Can’t wait to see everyone!

PS: Before your bring Ethan, take him clothes shopping first.”

“Married? Wow.” You remarked aloud to yourself, but not without a smile presently stationed on your face. It will be so nice to see her and meet Sunghoon, especially after receiving the news, and you couldn’t wait to tell the girls.

You pin the postcard on the corkboard in front of your desk, placing it in between the photos of your mom and dad, your elder siblings, the girls, and of course, you and Heeseung. You even had a photo of Emily and Jake pinned up.

Vicky’s departure to a new college wasn’t the only significant event that had transpired five months ago, it was also marked the length of time that you and Heeseung had been together.

Your bond with him grew even closer. With all the number of dates and quality time spent in your respective dorms, you both had become inseparable. Not to mention the evening routines that took place, nearly every single night. Even though you and Samuel had dated for 8 months, sharing many intimate moments, it didn’t compare to the countless sessions that you and Heeseung had.

Sometimes multiple times in one day, which made you quickly found out that your body needed a period of adjustment when you recall feeling the soreness from all the action.

You brush your teeth and think about your nights with Heeseungm they all played out the same for the most part.

You think about how he can’t manage to keep his hands off you and always sets the mood by lightly brushing his fingers on a random part of your body, whether it was your arms, legs, hands, or chest.

The brush of his touch was always accompanied by a gushing breath he would release close to your ear, hearing just a sliver of his voice within it, and expressing his desire and triggering yours.

The way his hands roamed, and how his hair nested against your cheek as he dug his face into the nook of your neck, sucking, kissing, biting, and licking the sensitive skin until it became marked by his act. His nose would graze your temple as he would whisper in your ear, as he gave soft rose-petal kisses in between. The tickling of it was paired with a sexually appeasing sensation to your body, whenever you felt the tapping of his lips or the heat of his whispers rushing into your ear.

Playing out the performance in your head made you recall a moment where you had learned something very interesting about Heeseung’s sexual nature. It had the same effect of Dr. Jekyl and Mr. Hyde, a doubling entity that emerged from within him depending on the sexual mood he was in. They reflected two sides to his performance in sex.

They both still classfieid as “fucking”, yet there was a difference in the type and the degree of his nature.

One side was his gentler one, the Dr. Jekyl entity. It was the persona of his sexual nature where he still maintained dominance, but he would allow you to have some unit of control. This part of him was a lot more tame and less animalistic, and it allowed you to have enough stability in your body and mind to move and think. It was his way of permitting you the freedom to do things to him, such as holding on to his wrists when you would kiss his most sensitive areas like his neck or ears. You would do your best to pin them down long enough, but he would overpower you every single time as he resisted the urge to lay still once, he felt your kisses.

Still, you would at least get a few seconds of seeing him vulnerable as you put up a fight in holding him down, and that was something you could only get away with due his nature reflecting Jekyl.

There were other examples of his permissive freedom, such as, when he would let you make the first move and allotted you to do so at your own pace. It normally would begin with him lying flat on his back, his hands behind his head as his elbows bent out to the sides, and his hat traditionally covering the significant features of his face. He would remain still letting you straddle him as you removed your shirt, which would always be the last remaining piece of clothing you had on prior to sitting on top of him, or a dress even.

He would deeply admire your how your body would flex and tone up as you lifted the cloth and raised it high, your arms crossed above your face as you turned off to the side with your hair flowing all around you. His will would break the very moment you dragged the cloth upwards, slowly revealing every measurement of skin as the regions of your body are revealed in order, belly button first, then breasts, collar bone, and shoulders last.

Your neck and face would return to frontal view as you swipe the clothing over, the collected strands of your hair grouped up through the loophole of the cloth would fall and dangle over your breasts, waist, and hips, each strand trickling down the farther you pull the material off and away from your body, generating a waterfall effect.

Lastly, and the most significant note to this side of Heeseung, was giving you total control of the main aspects that play a vital role regarding passionate sex, the tone, rhythm, and speed.

The three categories that often times, men strive to control. Heeseung wasn’t an exception having that strive, he loved being in control. However, he also loved experiencing the way you love him, emotionally and physically, and he could only witness it by letting you have some of it.

Once you removed your shirt, you’d reach down and gently stroke him, maintaining eye contact. A desire within you wanted to feel him in both your hands, before having him enter. Something about memorizing the thickness, length, and smoothness of his shaft, helped ease the process as you guide him inside and begin riding him.

The part he loved most about this was when he watches the sexual expression on your face. He always stared, and admired the way your beautiful face would display the initial sense of shock and pain upon you inserting him, doing everything by your own bidding. He loved watching you do it to yourself. The way that your mouth would gasp open and your brows furrowing in pain the moment you would tear yourself open by fitting him in, your face flinching as you felt the bite of his sting.

You moved passionately, slowly, and steadily as your hips would vibrate once his dick was fully inside you. Your walls are reintroduced to the throbbing numbness when you feel him rubbing against the flesh as you move him in and out.

The softness of his skin and the protrusion of veins creates a wild combination of smoothness and friction each time your hips dipped low, pushing him in, then roll back, pulling him out, all repeating in a cycle that becomes more vibrant as you keep it rotating. Your hips sway back and forth gently, while dipping into him hard and deep.

The weight of your body drops in mid wave, pulling you down and sealing every mesh of space that remained in between you two, as you begin to surpass the pain and sink into a pool of ultimate pleasure, wanting to feel every single part of him fill you.

You would feel him twitch inside, hinting to you that it was becoming harder for Heeseung to suppress the beast within him. Remaining in the same position as he did from the moment you straddled him, you’d watch him testing his willpower by refraining any movement, not even his hands. You keep riding him, watching as he stayed committed in laying there, and took every motion your hips were performing on him as your rotation of dipping, lifting, and rolling, keeps going.

Your body would gradually pick up speed, just a little, as your walls drooled all over him, making it easier for you to slide him in and out. The rush of ecstasy takes over your mind, body, and soul as you reach up with both hands, collecting your hair and pinning it up while you perform your moves, the loose strands surrounding your face and falling from your hands piece by piece as you begin bouncing up and down.

Once he felt you both were drawing close to orgasm, he marked his que and draws the line. Being so close to the finish line, this is the moment where Heeseung takes over.

“Fuck baby…” He bites his lip as he grunts. His low voice would go slightly higher in pitch during the times when he let you fuck his Jekyl side.

With a jerk of his hips thrusting into you, simultaneously removing his hands from his under head, he grabs around the smallest part of your waistline. He pulls you down as he continues to jerk up, and within one or two hard thrusts, he regains altitude as a swarm of adrenaline infuses him with the energy to fucks into you. You feel the strength of his thrusts pushing the both of you over the edge, beyond just pleasure.

“My fucking beautiful girl…fuck…keep riding it baby. Fucking take it.” His groans fuel you to keep moving and taking him in. Then, at the peak of his momentum, you feel him jam into you one last time, holding you in place as he lets his cock throb inside your walls, cumming inside you.

It shoots out fast and strong at first, then gradually comes to a slow stream of release as his twitching slowly decreases. You feel your walls press against him, squeezing everything out of him. The repeated action of your flesh re-clenching slurps every bit of his cum, vacuuming it deeper into you as the sharpness of the tingle and numbness overtrumps the height of Mount Everest, making you scream.

Your hips jolt each time his dick twitches, pairing in sync. His hand roams up to your back and he pulls you in to lay atop his chest, kissing his own breaths into you as your chest tightens against his, breathing into each other as you slowly regain your energy.

This was the side that you had seen most of, nearly a hundred percent of the time.

[kebriones]

Will they ever repair the school of arts in Athens? I read it was one of the first universities to be built in Greece, but now it looks like an abandoned building which is a shame how little the government values art 😔

WELL. Sorry anon you touched a sensitive subject and you're getting a rant.

Last year they fixed up our neoclassical building at the entrance, made it very ugly imo, and it has remained unused, closed and empty since then. They spent 1.6 MILLION euros to fix that thing. Do you know why? Because every journalist who wanted to write about the school's condition would come to the entrance, take a picture of the gray-ish, graffiti-covered neoclassical building, and use it in their article about how they've let THE school of fine arts be ugly and abandoned and so on. They fixed that only for show, which is a slap in the face to everyone who studies and works in the actual building.

We have incredibly little funding from the government. The building that houses the school is an ex-factory and as such requires very specialized types of repairs and upkeep. The old house on the left of the school as well as some storage buildings no visitor ever sees at the back are classified as "preservable" and therefore, like the now-renovated neoclassical ex-bank at the front, require very large amounts of money and time and studies to get fixed. I don't see that happening any time soon. Especially the house with the double staircase and all that, would have to be essentially rebuilt from scratch.

The actual building where the studios and everything is housed has so many practical problems. Some places like the underground cinema, the main auditorium and the exhibition hall are in fairly decent condition. The studios, not so much. We don't have money to fix clogged sinks, move or replace broken machinery, everything is always unimaginably filthy because they don't have enough cleaners, there are doors and windows that can't close, which results in pigeons and cats and dogs getting inside and shitting everywhere, the ceilings especially in the upper floor are falling apart from water pooling on the rooftop, making entire spots unusable because of the mold and constant dripping and the danger of stuff falling off the ceiling and injuring someone, everything floods the moment it rains, some of the bathrooms lack light and we don't even have soap or toilet paper most of the time. We don't have enough space for everyone to work in either, in the majority of the studios. But there is no funding. The school can't even afford to give simple cheap paper to the students, last year we were out of clay at the ceramics class for months. Every now and then they bring people to come paint over the graffiti at the entrance, as if that's the main problem of the school.

Also, it was actually one of the first universities to be made in Athens, but up until the 80s it was housed in the building of the polytechnic university on Patision street. It got moved to the ex-textile factory to have more space and a more modern environment, which I think was the right move. If it was functional and not so dirty and falling apart to the point of being actually dangerous, the factory itself is an incredible, gorgeous building, with the graffiti and the posters and everything. I just wish I didn't have to step around poop every time i had to go to class, or that I could actually use the sinks normally to wash my paintbrushes and my hands. Or idk have some cheap supplies available for free. I think they will come make actual improvements when someone dies or something. Two years ago after the floods that destroyed expensive equipment and stuff, their solution was to bring us sand bags to pile up on the entrances of the building to keep the water out whenever it rains.

[lutiaslayton]

Hi! I really love your timeline analyses and have been thinking about them a lot as I try to write my own Layton longfic. (I hope you don't mind me referencing your timeline and puzzle research for it ^^;) It's very well done! I have a hard time figuring out so many details at once like that, so it's been a huge help.

...I don't want to be annoying or overly nitpicky when I point this out, but I just thought I'd mention something.

We know that Dropstone was founded on August 12th (by the JP version) and Layton travels there on its 50th anniversary (also August 12th). In your deduced timeline you have that arrival date down as Wednesday the 12th, 1963. The year with a Wednesday on an August 12th is actually 1964. In 1963, the 12th falls on a Monday.

I don't know if the day being a Wednesday specifically matters at all, or if Layton's days of the week aren't in sync with ours, but from what I understand, your timeline might be 1 year behind. (Or that date was meant to be Monday the 12th...?)

I figured with SLS (one of my favorite fics ever, by the way!) being in 1953, a detail like this could be important to you, but you can totally ignore this ask if I'm wrong! I just wanted to let you know just in case.

Hi! The fact that you picked up on this is a true testament to your dedication and rigorous work, congratulations!!

I haven't touched this timeline in a long while for a number of reasons (far too many other projects + "um actually I think there might be multiple timelines and you can't put every single game/novel/manga/movie/other in the same chronology but it becomes soooooo much more interesting if you start placing them in multiple ones, also puzzle theory makes that not only plausible but also quite probable"), so sadly I have forgotten most of the details of how past me from over a year ago reached the conclusions that she did. From what I remember, however, the quick answer to your question is simple: yes, the days of the week in the Laytonverse are out of sync with ours.

(I kinda like how I take it as a bigger reminder that the Laytonverse really is disconnected from our world's History in a number of ways, from the mention in the novels of kings and queens that do not exist IRL to the simple logical fact that there is no way History happened the same way when mechas are a thing, the Azran happened, Targent happened, and also puzzles break the laws of physics daily. But that's just personal preference.)

I think what started it was the fact that London Holiday takes place on a Sunday and that I could not find any way to make the whole "a few days ago" for both Curious Village and Diabolical Box work alongside the "They arrive in Dropstone on August 12th." I won't redo the math right now because schedule and to-do list and other stuff (+ I trust you more to check it since your brain cogs are already warm and revving in the middle of it, so you would be more efficient at figuring it out as well as more critical than present me), but if memory serves, this was the best I could manage at the time, and I never went back later to recheck the math. I really just stopped at "Yes, there is a desync, so what? That's not supposed to be the real world anyway. Also huge kudos to whoever notices."

---

My mind is set on the fact that the Layton timeline places the original trilogy on the year 1963 because of the promotional UF artwork implying that UF would take place during the winter between 1963 and 1964, but that part is personal preference since I know (and stated on the timeline web page iirc) that in-universe, this date does not appear in the game. I know other people use for example the "Year 1960" unused artwork which had been datamined from Curious Village. I also know that the World of PL interview just says "There is no official date, it's inspired from the 1960s but we are never going to give a date because we don't want to." I also also know that some others, who consider the PLvsAA crossover canon, take the Ace Attorney timeline and thus completely yeet the "1960s" part into oblivion.

So the choice is ultimately up to personal preference, and you're free to choose a different one! The only reason I put 1963 in the timeline instead of "Year YYYY ; Year YYYY - 50 ; Year YYYY + 1" and such is for obvious readability reasons... and because past me had not thought that perhaps there could be a Javascript way to say "hey put here the year you'd like the original trilogy to take place in," have the user click on a button, and make the whole page do the calculations and display the new dates according to the user's chosen year of reference. darn it now I'm going to be nagging myself into implementing that but it would also be so tedious.

---

Anyway TL;DR yes I was aware of this, and past me either forgot to mention it or thought "Eh it's not like anybody will notice/care" hahaha. Rather insensitive from past me admittedly, I do now wonder why I didn't add that as a small paragraph in the preliminary notes... Most likely reason is that the thought just didn't cross my mind at the time.

Good luck on your own longfic, don't hesitate to send me the link (no promises on reading it the day it comes out because there are SO many fics already on my to-read list, but nnngnfhghh I wish I could read other people's works as well as continue working on SLS), and thank you for your ask! Even though I was personally aware of it, you can absolutely feel proud of having picked up on it, and don't hesitate to come back to me (and make me sweat cold bullets) if you figure out a way to make "1963" + "London Holiday on a Sunday" + "No week day desyncs with the real world" work. Thanks to you, other people can now be made aware of this detail which I had apparently forgotten to explain explicitly!

Lastly, I don't remember whether I mentioned it here or not because it's still far from done and isn't going to be truly useful before a LONG while, but just in case what little info is on there could still be useful to you or someone else in any way: among many other things, I'm working on a Lore Map. Imagine having the ENTIRETY of EVERY SINGLE CANON FACT we have been given, in a single web page, with a whole list of tags so you can filter only the trivia that is relevant to your fanfic research <3

---

(Now this paragraph is completely unrelated to your ask, I'm going to leave this here for a different person (or not? would be good luck if you're the same anon): I am so sorry to the anon who asked me if I considered the LMJ ARG event canon or not, I uhhhhh... got carried away and I don't think the answer will be posted anytime soon, because for the sake of answering it in an exhaustive way I wanted to re-read the entirety of what has been preserved of it + add every bit of trivia I could find to the Lore Map mentioned earlier. And I'm juggling between many other projects too so progress is very slow. TL;DR version of my personal opinion so far: as for everything else it is up to personal preference, but I could theoretically see at least parts of it being canon. The trickiest part I found by reading just the introduction of the ARG is the fact that Kat would apparently make livestreams. Which implies the existence of the internet or a similar technology, the existence of streaming platforms, and the fact that she would have a decent-ish enough following for her random viewers from all around the world to want to help her. And if we go with the hypothesis that there could be multiple timelines, I could see that happen in an Ace Attorney-based timeline such as the one in which the PLvsAA crossover is canon, for example! I don't know enough about AA to be able to speak about it with confidence, but I think that 20+ years after the original AA trilogy, internet technology is indeed quite advanced enough for this to be possible? anyway. Just thought I'd give you a first short answer so you don't have to keep holding your breath and/or think I completely forgot about you. I'm sorry :'D)

[samwrites99]

1.How many works do you have on AO3?

20 works

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

170,154

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Law and Order SVU and Organized Crime

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

A decade without

Geocache

Bankers box

This is her story

Boarding passes

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to, as much as I can now! I wasn’t too good at it when I first started writing fic about a year ago-ish, but I’ve come to like the interaction with people :)

6. What's the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

either uncharted (bc it basically was a prequel fic to SVU ROTPS (back door pilot to Organized Crime) OR Purgatory (which basically was EO stuck together in hiding but it’s just them *not talking* featuring an unused shotgun).

Idk I try to end my fics on a happy note bc that’s just the type of person I am.

7. What's the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

THIS IS HARD — like I said, I really try to end on a positive note because I love to wrap things up in a cutesy little bow but maybe geocache or bankers box since those are coming home stories.

8. Do you get hate on fics?

I did once, but I’ve since learned the art of comment moderation 🫡

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I’m inclined to say no, but that would be a lie. I did in like 1 AU pilots fic. People said they liked it (maybe?) but I also am super uncomfortable writing it. It was a nice challenge to write it and to get out of my comfort zone.

10. Do you write crossovers? What's the craziest one you've written?

SVU/OC live in the same universe, so while technically a crossover, I’m not going to count it here.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I know of! But I have used Google translate in fic to have dialogue in another language.

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes!

14. What's your all-time favorite ship?

Right now, it’s EO bc they’re the ship that got me to dive head first into all things fandom.

15. What's the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

….. gonna have crickets here…..

it’s not that I don’t like my 2 WIPs, it’s just that I think I bite off more than I can chew with both of them and I have second hand embarrassment from them now.

I also prefer to live in oneshot heaven 😇

16. What are your writing strengths?

Not sure… I like to think I can write a loosely enough connected thread to make a storyline come out of the woodworks… but I also don’t know exactly.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

Oh most definitely grammar.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

I’ve done it! It’s fun and at least for the EO ship, it’s a playground bc it’s a detail that we as fans know but the writers room seems to ignore/not sure how to incorporate it. Live laugh love continuity.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

SVU/OC

20. Favorite fic you've ever written?

oh gosh… this feels like a toss up because I have a few I always rec to people… this is her story holds a special place in my heart, but I also ADORE bankers box and geocache. Probably those 3 I feel like best represent my work, but I have little pieces of my heart deposited into all my writing 🫶

Thanks for the tag @somuchwhatever . If you come across this feel free to do it yourself!

[dividedsingularity]

Cosplaying a Dalek

How I spedran my first ever cosplay to wear it at a con, aka a sentimental writeup on the making of the costume with lots of pictures! Find it under the cut.

Ever since I first laid eyes on them, I've loved the Daleks, both as a wider entity and in their design.

Look at this thing, it's perfection! A modern design from the newer, post-2005 series, but with a more classic-feeling black colour scheme.

During my comprehensive Doctor Who watch-through, sometime around January 2020, an idea for an anthropomorphic Dalek materialised in my mind, centering around the Dalek trooper helmets from Resurrection of the Daleks. Except I thought they could have looked way cooler.

I mean look at it. It's got the spirit but it lacks the style. So my design incorporated all the parts I found important about the entirety of the Dalek form. I doubt I thought about cosplaying it while I first had the idea, but the first post I ever made about it already mentions that desire. …huh, it's been so long already??

I never did much about it since that time, though, aside from talking it over with a friend for ideas and thinking about visiting some second-hand clothes shops to look for the right sort of coat. That didn't end up happening, because by sheer luck I found two leather coats to choose from at home, just sitting there unused, and one of them had exactly the right collar!

…that was definitely way over a year ago though. The next time anything moved forward cosplay-wise was early in April this year. Once my small group of friends decided all three of us would go to this year's convention, and all of us were to show up in costume, it was on. With a time limit and a real goal of creating the costume I'd dreamed of for so long, I actually got to work.

The cosplay never left my mind since that day; I was constantly planning what I'd need and how I'd go about achieving it in the back of my mind. There were some things I had ideas for, but many more that I didn't even know how to start approaching; I spent several days in the first two weeks just visiting every art and hobby shop and some more specialised ones across (and some outside) the entire city. (I found out more about public transport here in that week than for my entire life here.)

Some harder to find items that I'd known I'd need from the beginning were a bicycle chain (for the exo-spine) and clear plastic cups (for the helmet lights). Those required dedicated trips and, in the chain's case, much additional work cleaning and breaking it to the desired length.

What gave me the MOST trouble, though, were all the balls on the costume, both helmet and coat. Nearly everyone I talked to about this project had their own (mostly unsolicited) ideas for what they could be made of, but none felt right to me. Eventually I latched onto wanting to make them from buttons - so the problem became finding large enough buttons. After much effort I got them - only coconut shell buttons were anywhere near the correct size - and spent the next few days sewing them and the bike chain onto the coat. Tip: never attempt sewing leather without a thimble.

Here's what it looked like with all the attachments + a dirt cheap belt from a second hand.

Through all the work on the coat, however, I'd been dreading the part I knew least about: the helmet. It was the most crucial element, the lynchpin of the entire thing, and I knew exactly what I wanted it to look like, but nothing about how I'd achieve it. It took me the longest time to even settle on a material to make it out of.

Everything started coming together once I remembered I have access to 3D modelling software that I *knew how to use*. I speed modelled the helmet in one evening, adjusting only the cup holes for real size and eyeballing the rest of the dimensions, praying that it'd end up being right because I had neither the time nor willpower to go through modelling-printing-cutting and gluing it all a second time.

Some wip stages looked pretty funny considering the cup shapes were perfectly to scale

Once unfolded, printed out, glued together, cut out, traced on cardboard, and cut out once more, it looked like this:

a LOT of tape and wishing I had someone to help me hold things in place later, I finally ended up with a shape that looked right and thankfully turned out to be perfectly sized for my noggin. It's incredible how many strokes of luck happened here, really. and there's still several coming up!

After connecting the visor, cups, and a safety helmet base to the cardboard structure, I had a Usable Helmet. Feeling so close to my goal, I still knew there was a long way to go, as I had barely an inkling as to how I'd make or connect the helmet's optic.

I used a small tube of thick cardboard and bent wire in the end. The lens was from an old bedstand clock.

Other than that though, what remained was mostly decoration - and I was not about to even attempt painting this thing; I had to cut the helmet's template into separate pieces, lay them out tightly on a few sheets of PVC foam, cut those and then attach them to each side of the helmet one by one. It took a good while but the result was pretty phenomenal, colour quality-wise.

The helmet also got the button treatment, though these were a different kind and not ones I went looking for - I'd actually had these lying around for years, and exactly the right number, too! Incredible how good they look, especially when in motion and catching all the light. Ended up having to reattach them with a different kind of tape, but they're holding fast now.

So my helmet was done and I had little time to spare, and even less idea how to make my Dalek gun, despite having the parts for it. A classmate unexpectedly offered to let me use a 3D printer he had access to, though, and this opened up an opportunity - so the base for attaching the gun to my forearm was 3D printed, glued, got the straps (from an old gutted backpack) sewn into it and it worked pretty great.

For the gun, I used a clear plastic tube and even more bent wire, and finally for the cable leading to the gun I could do something relaxing - a measure tape that I had to cover with isolation tape. Taped again to the base of the gun, but detachable on the other side via paperclip that I can put on and take off the collar of the coat.

I had all the elements that required crafting ready and put together just a day before the con, then. I'd picked out appropriate underdress (my Dalek shirt and colour-fitting trousers, light for the hot weather) in between working on them.

Let's summarise: it's June. Sunny weather. My cosplay consists of

gun

shirt

trousers

long leather coat

black helmet

gloves

whatever shoes fit the vibe

and I wanted to put a backpack on top of all that, too. You'd have to be insane to wear all of that on a hot summer day!*

*Disclaimer: all Daleks are clinically insane or close enough, so it all checks out.

I decided not to use the gloves and spare myself that much, at least. In the end, the day was even a little cloudy, and it was only about 25°C outside (for my Fahrenheit-using friends, that translates to "way too hot to wear all that") - so the eleven hours of walking in full Dalek cosplay dehydrated me only a little in the end. I think. Yeah that water bottle was gone fast.

The day was incredibly fun, even more fun than it was exhausting, and the number of people who complimented the cosplay or even asked to take a photo with me was absolutely staggering to a newbie like me! It was all worth it in the end; as I write this, I haven't yet had my planned photoshoot to get nice detailed photos of the cosplay, but I did find a TARDIS prop at the con to pose with, so… I guess I can bend my no photos rule and show you this one.

Censoring my face with an actual Dalek picture for accuracy.

Now here I am, a proud and happy new owner of a rather nice Dalek costume. It still needs some adjustments for better comfort of wearing, mostly to make the helmet less wobbly while walking, but I have it! I got help from my friends and colleagues both in terms of solution ideas and resources given to me nearly every step of the way and completing it so quickly wouldn't have been possible without it. Thank you, guys. And thank you, if you've read this entire thing, hope it was enjoyable B ] Questions and comments most welcome if you have any.

[pandemichub]

I'd love people to write in in response to this post. I'll share my own story to get things started.

Before the pandemic started I had just started to get on the right track after an apartment fire 3 years ago at the time. Everything was thrown off by that and I developed PTSD from the event. My health and mental health conditions were well managed, including my agoraphobia and I was in good health.

Even as I sheltered in place for approximately 3 years and only did essential activities and went to essential places I still contracted covid. Sadly my carer brought it into my home and I've suffered with long covid immediately subsequent to my acute infection ever since (August 28th 2022).

It's turned my life upside down. I had planned on starting to ride my bike and now it sits in my apartment untouched. I struggle to walk, sit and balance especially for prolonged periods, at the ripe age of 31. An issue I didn't have before remotely.

And yet doctors keep mentioning anxiety, that it's not conclusive despite not studying up to date literature and published research on covid and long covid. I have no purpose for my shoes much either because travel is taxing on my body. In fact I've been at my mom's house for almost a month because I'm not well enough to return home.

Even paid my rent and electric digitally. My patio remains unoccupied, partly because I don't want harassment about wearing a mask outdoors but also would rather not see my neighbors. One of which harassed me and my carer after coming back from a very stressful dentist appointment with appalling covid safety and not having slept that day.

My computer collecting dust, partly due to the winter storm a couple months or so ago that knocked out my power and messed up the boot sequence, but also not being able to sit at and use it without swaying, heart palpations, feeling faint, and for long periods.

My kitchen sink, cooking utensils and ware goes unused most of the time because my new illness has largely robbed me of the energy and focus to prepare and cook meals. And my apartment tends to occupy me or my one support staff because of my fear of a repeat incident of someone bringing disease into my house. A disease that if I catch again well may kill me, or, faster.

My shower usually is dry as a bone, baths and showers leave me flaring and wiped for days. My hair products sit frequently untouched as I'm too exhausted to brush, braid, cover and moisturize my hair. As do my free weights and elastic PT bands. Ever since I got sick I lack stamina, experience shortness of breath (I had asthma but it was well controlled), my heart rate spikes and I can't exercise in any way that would hit targets or be beneficial.

And still my doctor recommends physical therapy despite telling her all this. And worst of all won't give me a long covid diagnosis. She kicked me to specialist.

Specialist who are already booked out, and whose schedules and patient lists keep lengthening because of the sharp and continued rise in long covid. Knowing it could take months for me to get a diagnosis this route and even longer to get new disability aids I need if I even get documents and approvals at all.

That I can't possibly afford because I'm dirt poor. To add pain to injury, I was disabled before this. And I understood the seriousness of covid and long covid. And took every precaution. But in a society that's a threat to life and safety, I was only as safe as everyone else was and is.

Which means I wasn't and still am not. Not only do I have whatever implications and damage short and long term from my first bout of illness, I constantly have the threat of reinfections and death everyday.

And finally, I have no use for many of the chairs in my home as my brain, neck and spine struggle to keep me upright. My body is in some ways new to me and after 3 plus decades in it, I have to learn it all over again.

And am confronted with no longer being able to do what I once did (possibly ever again) with great sadness nor test limits without high risk and unpredictable results. And it is a terrible, deeply off putting, arrogant and cruel insult to hear people write off or outright deny long covid exists and call long covid a cold. It fucking isn't.

Anyway that's my story.

[rudhira]

I got tagged by @esotheria-sims - thank you!

1. What’s your favourite sims death?

I don’t think that I really like any of them...? Electrocution, I guess, since it’s the easiest and fastest to do yourself.

2. Alpha CC or Maxis Match?

Maxis Match all the way! Well, most of the way. I guess the hairs I use aren’t really Maxis Match, though they have pretty matte textures.

3. Do you cheat when your sims gain weight?

If anything, I cheat to make them gain weight because it seems to never happen on its own. More often than not I have Sims who need a few Body skill points for promotion and they all get fit instead.

4. Do you use move objects?

Sparingly. I like having it turned off all the time, because I don’t want to accidentally place an item that ends up blocking something or being unusable, and then I just turn it on when I need it.

5. Favourite mod?

Same sex pregnancy.

6. First expansion/game/stuff pack you got?

When I first got the game, I had the Deluxe edition, so Nightlife. I don’t remember what I got after that.

7. Do you pronounce “live mode” like aLIVE or LIVing?

Like alive.

8. Who’s your favorite sim that you’ve made?

I don’t really make Sims myself, but I guess Naomi, one of my models. She has black hair and tends to wear green, if you wanna look for her in my previews.

9. Have you made a simself?

Yes, but ages ago. Like, a decade and a half ago.

10. What sim traits do you give yourself?

Oh, Sims 3? Right now I would probably give myself vegetarian, neurotic, computer whiz, good sense of humour and clumsy.

11. Which is your favorite EA hair colour?

This is definitely not a Sims 2 question. I like the purple colour that’s available for rpchoppy and shortcute.

12. Favorite EA hair?

longpart for sure, an astounding number of my legacy founders had that.

13. Favorite life stage?

Adults.

14. Are you a builder or are you in it for the gameplay?

Gameplay! I avoid building as much as I can, and generally will just download lots or copy floorplans online.

15. Are you a CC creator?

I guess? Not because I really want to create CC, but because there are things I want in my game that nobody else seems to be making.

16. Do you have any simblr friends/a sim squad?

Yes!

17. What’s your favorite game? (1, 2, 3, or 4)

Sims 2 easy.

18. Do you have any sims merch?

I have a Sims 3 lanyard that I got from a friend who I think was involved with marketing for the Sims somehow, like a decade ago. I also have a plumbob flash drive that I got for preordering The Sims 3. I used to also have a Sims 3 T-Shirt and some of those rubbery bracelets, but they’re long gone. And some sort of metal container shaped like a house that I think was for storing your games?

19. Do you have a YouTube for sims?

Uh, not really? I have a YouTube channel where I post Sims 2 tutorials, if that counts, but I also post speedrunning content there.

20. How has your “sim style” changed throughout your years of playing?

Like, the style of my Sims or the style of my gameplay? For the former, I’ve gotten more consistent in what I download, but I do kinda miss just downloading whatever and putting it in my game. For the latter, I’ve learned to enjoy just sticking to a neighbourhood and seeing how it plays out.

21. What’s your Origin ID?

No idea! I’m terrified of opening Origin ever again so I don’t really know.

22. Who’s your favourite CC creator?

If I’m picking only one, @serabiet. The quality of their content always exceeds my expectations, and it’s also versatile and usable for many different styles.

23. How long have you had a simblr?

I’ve had this blog itself for like over a decade, but I’ve only used it as a simblr since uh... May 2016?

24. How do you edit your pictures?

I resize and crop them. If I posted more gameplay pictures I might edit them more, but I only really post previews for downloadable content and I really don’t like editing those as I want people to see what the content will look like in game.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack do you want next?

Honestly? Something like Sims 3 Aspirations but without the going to work part. I’ve always liked that EP for the tattoos and the laundry, and natively having that in TS2 would be nice.

25. What expansion/game/stuff pack is your favorite so far?

I honestly don’t know. As a child, I think I was the most excited by Seasons, I still vaguely remembering reading through the booklet while the game was installing and barely being able to wait. I guess probably Nightlife, part of it is because I’ve always had it so I couldn’t imagine playing Sims 2 without it, so it adds a lot of features I take for granted.

[zerogender-onlyswag]

Life update for the mutuals and anyone else who is interested in my life:

I'm unemployed again because I got triggered at work*, quit, and stormed out. I've mentioned before I work in childcare/teach preschool age children so that's what field I'm talking about

Not sure why but I'm not as stressed about it as I was a month ago when I got terminated from my previous job.

Like, it wasn't the best choice I've ever made, my last 3 jobs on my resume are all jobs that ended abruptly and are fully burned bridges, two of which I walked out on, and the termination. The school I worked at before that closed down and while I have contacts for my bosses there, I'm not 100% sure they're up to date (could ask, I'm Facebook friends with them but Facebook is frankly unusable). That was the only job I'd had that was one I loved and would have stayed at had they remained open and they closed 5 years ago. So that's rough to explain to potential employers if they ask, and it doesn't make me look like a reliable employee.

However, I've already had an interview (I walked out Thursday morning and had an interview scheduled by that afternoon for Friday morning, I think it went well, but we'll see) and have at least two more tomorrow. I'm really hoping I can get out of the corporate daycare world, into something that can help me love teaching again.

That can be rough where I live since there aren't as many independent preschools that are hiring; that, and several closed down during/after Covid. The only chain I'm interviewing at is a smaller chain that uses philosophies I resonate with and consider themselves education not just daycare. Half day, but like I said I'm really hoping I can get something that would reignite my love of teaching, even if it's a little less money/fewer hours.

Also hoping for a more inclusive environment, since I get easily triggered on behalf of special needs kids and by certain managerial styles (particularly directors who think them being in charge means no one is allowed to disagree).

Anyway, Trying to stay away from larger national chains, bc I've never had a good experience working for a corporate center, even the ones that look good on paper.

Wish me luck, and that I can stick with this a little longer than I did my most recent job 🥲

We're all broke here so I'm not asking for money, though I won't say no if people CAN and want to help out.

*Footnote about why I used the term triggered and not just that I lost my temper under the cut.*

TW: brief emotional/workplace abuse mention, and brief mentions of queerphobia, ableism, and gender roles

*I say triggered because I have work place trauma from one of the burned bridges mentioned that will often send me into anything from burnout to a meltdown. I was emotionally abused (primarily through a gaslighting and love bombing cycle, with a health dose of blame shifting and weaponized anxiety) by my director at one of the schools I worked for and certain attitudes from managers tend to trigger it.

In addition, I also have historically had a hard time dealing with the intersection of my own neurodiversity and that of the children I work with if the environment is not supportive of those kids, which I've encountered a lot. Same goes for gender issues regarding things like toys/costumes/certain props being only for girls/boys that comes up with parents, children, and some teachers/administrators, at times. This comes up less frequently, though it was related to the reason I quit this most recent job. These things are related to the more general trauma of being neurodivergent and queer, and the way people respond to that when you're a teacher.