#dead horse returns

[thegooblet]

you know how cats will leave dead mice and birds on your doorstep as gifts? lifesteal mapicc totally does that shit

[anghraine]

Fun fact: Imrahil of Dol Amroth is only ever described in LOTR as Denethor and Faramir's "kinsman", with no distinction ever made between how he's related to Denethor vs to Faramir. It's only later, when Faramir briefly thinks of his long-dead mother, that she is called "Finduilas of Amroth" and we can deduce that the family connection was likely between Denethor's wife and Imrahil, making him an in-law of Denethor but blood relative of Faramir. We're still not told exactly how Imrahil and Finduilas were related, though.

I always had the impression of a certain degree of tension between Imrahil and Denethor, and also of Imrahil being particularly concerned for Faramir, but his exact relationships with them are quite vague in the narrative. A lot of the names, dates, and family connections among the members of the house of Dol Amroth that we now accept as a matter of course are mainly from a separate document published in Peoples of Middle-earth that explains the most probable origin story for the house of Dol Amroth and has an attached family tree. IIRC the entire existence of Faramir and Éowyn's son Elboron is based on his inclusion in the Dol Amroth family tree in POME and he's never referenced in LOTR (and possibly not in anything else, actually?).

Tolkien definitely did imagine Imrahil and Finduilas as siblings regardless (e.g. I think he mentions it when observing that Denethor's natural beardlessness as an Elrosian Dúnadan would be reinforced in Boromir and Faramir by their additional Elvish heritage through Imrahil's sister), but he didn't actually say it in LOTR.

I do think it's important, though, because it's with this later information that Imrahil taking charge of Faramir's fallen body is conclusively revealed to not be simply a prince rescuing a vague "kinsman" of political/military importance, but specifically a man carrying his dead sister's last surviving child from a battlefield.

(No wonder he and Éomer bonded so much, honestly!)

[thefirstknife]

rip gambit you will be missed 😔

Don't even know what to say tbh.

For those that don't know, the big State of the Game article came out detailing incoming changes and adjustments and all the big stuff. Gambit was mentioned! But at what cost. Basically, they are ceasing any kind of support for Gambit. What we have now is what it is. We will get the Dreaming City map back in TFS and they will add Shadow Legion and Lucent Hive as enemy factions in TFS. That's all.

Full text:

As many of you have noticed, we’ve been quiet on Gambit since last year’s overhaul that launched alongside The Witch Queen. In that revamp, the team made significant changes across five categories in Gambit: core activity fundamentals, Primeval tuning, invasions, ammo economy, and rewards. Unfortunately, these updates didn’t move the needle for player engagement. Although we know our Gambit fans mostly care about new or returning maps, this is an area of the game with lower engagement that would take resources away from more popular parts of the game to shore up.   While we don’t have plans to dedicate more resources to significantly transform Gambit, we do have a few updates planned for the year of The Final Shape. These include porting the Cathedral of Scars map and its beautiful Dreaming City setting into the latest version of Destiny 2, as well as adding the Shadow Legion and Lucent Hive enemy types. 

I don't know how to tell you this Bungie, but the reason "engagement is low" in Gambit is because Gambit sucks. Ever since half of it was removed with DCV, it just sucked. It has no variety, the gameplay is largely busted, it's not sufficiently updated, ammo changes suck, invasion cycle sucks (why is the enemy even getting a portal when their Primeval is at 5% health and the other team is still in mote collecting phase is beyond me), there are no cool armour sets to chase (just look at Iron Banner and Trials stuff, imagine dedicated cosmetics) and finally there are simply no weapons that are worth anything. Both Vanguard and Crucible have more weapons and also adept versions. There is zero reason to go into Gambit without major changes to Gambit. And now with the further changes to how playlists and challenges will work, there will be even less reason to go into Gambit. Observe:

Before then, we’re making Gambit entirely optional to maximize your rewards unless you’re looking for a piece of gear that’s specific to the mode. Gambit will continue to serve as a source of Exotic engrams via weekly challenges, though as we mentioned above, you’ll be able to complete all your weekly challenges in any ritual you’d like starting in Season 22. If you want to stick to Vanguard or Crucible challenges without touching Gambit, now you can.  We’re also reducing the number of Gambit-specific Seasonal Challenges starting in Season 22, so players won’t need to bank motes to be able to earn that big purse of Bright Dust for completing nearly every challenge in the Season. Finally, we’re adding Fireteam Matchmaking to Gambit next Season, which will replace the Freelance node and should result in faster, better matchmaking by combining both Gambit playlists. We’ll keep an eye on reception and player engagement after these additions take place, and we hope you’ll visit ‘ol Drifter next Season to get your hands on his new Void Machine Gun. 

Ngl, but I don't think anyone besides like a total of 6 people will play Gambit next season. The incentive to go in there is completely removed. You won't even have to go in there for pinnacles or for challenges. The Void Machine Gun will not be enough of an incentive because the chance of that gun being better than two recently available craftable Void Machine Guns (Commemoration and Retrofit Escapade) is very low. And besides, once you get it at the end of your first match, you can leave Gambit forever.

This is the feedback loop that just reinforces the idea that people don't like Gambit. And I mean. Who would at this point. I'm pretty sure that if Crucible had stayed the same as it was at the start of Beyond Light, engagement would be low there too. But you know. Crucible has received major updates pretty much every season since with multiple new modes, several Trials overhauls, Iron Banner overhaul, competitive overhaul, new armours and weapons added and YES, even new maps. God forbid even 5% of these resources went into Gambit.

Anyway, this is the whole section about Gambit in 6500 words. It's basically a "you guys aren't playing this so we're doing the bare minimum of keeping it in the game as is, no new work will be done on it ever." Thanks I guess.

And for the record, something I also added while having a rant in my discord, I want to make it clear that I don't want anyone to spiral into a Bungie hate train. Even for this. I understand perfectly well what's the community attitude towards Gambit and what it's been for years now. People just don't like it and they're not incentivised to like it and they're actively encouraged to hate it. Spending resources into a game mode on the hope that maybe you can change people's minds would be insanity. Like, the amount of change Gambit would need to MAYBE start appealing to gamers would be beyond any reasonable time and resources Bungie can put in. And if you could guarantee that people would love and play Gambit then, fine. But you can't. Most likely, even if major changes happened, people would still just do their weekly stuff and bail. It's simply not worth it. In order for people to like it, it needs to be completely and thoroughly overhauled in a way that would need more time and effort than the entire Light subclass overhaul and it's just not a reasonable expectation, nor is it guaranteed to work. So I get it.

I'm still disappointed and annoyed about it because I believe it wasn't given a fair chance at all. I also know how good it can be and how Gambit Prime could've been improved upon over the years if they tried. Instead, it got removed and that was honestly the death sentence for Gambit. It's unfortunate. It's my favourite game mode that could've been so much better was it given even a fraction of attention of Crucible.

I'll still be playing it. You will find me in the Gambit queue waiting for 2 hours to find 7 other lunatics to play with, don't worry about it. But I'm absolutely incredibly sad about them being basically forced to axe the potential of the whole game mode that is incredibly creative and fits with the type of game Destiny is perfectly.

There's other interesting stuff in the article and some upcoming really cool improvements and changes to the game. But if you're a fan of Gambit in any capacity, this is a death certificate for the mode. I suggest coming to terms with it quickly because Bungie changing their minds about this is highly unlikely.

[theworldsoftolkein]

[porto-rosso]

tims been bisexual for 1104 days and hes so far only had one baity, hammed-up incident with kon. alright

[mc-critical]

2.02 (26) / 2.16 (40)

[reuben-wobbels-stimboards]

Goldilocks from The Land of Stories stimboard!

🤺💌🤺 🐎⚔🐎 🤺💌🤺

[magistralucis]

Hello! I hope I'm not being too awkward in dropping out of nowhere to say this, but I'm the author of TDK and I was really impressed by your essay on Djoseras after someone pointed me to it - I found your analysis genuinely insightful, and I wrote the bastard. Encountering that sort of response is a rare pleasure for any writer, especially one writing about metal skeletons with catastrophic mental health issues, so I wanted to say thank you :)

First of all, Nate, thank you for your necron literature. Ever since I read The Twice-Dead King, it's been sing me, O Goddess, of the anger of Oltyx in my head everyday - tell me about the Nobody-of-Many-Ways (outis polutropos), that poor many-minded boy whose first and foremost sin was being bad at living in bad faith. He speaks to a lot of us, or what I think a lot of us would admit to being if life wasn't frightening. Said metal skeletons with catastrophic mental health issues are some of the most existentially fascinating characters I've read in a while, and I'm grateful for the pleasure of reading them.

And that's Oltyx. For Djoseras - I find him so compelling because bad faith is his total, only faith, to the extent he'd rather die than see it removed and freely admits this is the case. Seeing him unveiled page by page alongside Oltyx, not as an arrogant rival-tyrant but a man killed by glory long since dead and rotted, whose nobility is never compromised for the ugly truth, that was an experience. I like him very much. I was sad about the choices Djoseras never had, frustrated by the choices he had but refused to take, and I pitied him for his loneliness and his inability to go on. He's a wonderful character. Thank you, truly.

[sainthomura]

I’m worried about Nayuta but at the same time it almost feels too predictable if she dies

[tenth-sentence]

Then Legolas laid his hands on his eyes and sang some words that went soft in the gloom, until he suffered himself to be led, and Legolas passed in.

"The Lord of the Rings: The Return of the King" - J.R.R. Tolkien

[fadeintocase]

what do you do with the knowledge that you could drop a karkat thing and jumpscare and/or kill thousands of sleeping homestucks

that's not even true, like 90% of the people that knew me for homestuck stuff either unfollowed because they only associated me with homestuck and stopped liking it, or unfollowed me because i don't post homestuck anymore.

[raiii-bee]

Now that I'm rewatching 03 for the first time in YEARS I can see why it got me obsessed with FMA as a middle schooler. Like damn. Like I love brotherhood but I genuinely don't think I would have gotten into FMA as intensely as I did if it were not for watching 03 first. Brotherhood just goes too fast in the beginning lol.

*this is a personal opinion and thoughts. I'm not making any claim*

[badjokesbyjeff]

A wealthy man was ordered by his physician to go away to the mountains for a rest. He went home, told the members of his family what the doctor had said. He said, "While I'm away, I don't wish to be annoyed by letters or telegrams; in fact, I don't want to receive any news of any kind." So he went away and was gone about six weeks.

He returned to the city very much improved in health and very anxious for some news from home. He got off of the train at the depot, was met by his servant, and the following conversation ensued:

Man: Well, Henry, how is everything at home? Is there any news?

Henry: No, sir. There ain't no news, sir. Everything is just about the same as it was when y'all went away. Nothin' happened. No sir, there ain't nothing happened, there ain't no news.

Man: Well, you know, I'm just dying for some word from home now. You can tell me any little thing, no matter how trifling.

Henry: No sir, there ain't no news. There ain't nothin' to tell you, sir. Except... there's just one little thing. Since you've been away, your dog died.

Man: Oh, my dog died, eh? Well, that's too bad. What killed the

dog?

Henry: Well, sir, the dog ate some burnt horseflesh. And that's what killed the dog.

Man: Ate burnt horseflesh? Where did he get burnt horseflesh to eat?

Henry: Well, sir, you know, your barn burned down. And after the fire had cooled off, the dog ran in and ate some of the burnt horse- flesh, and that's what killed the dog.

Man: Oh, my barn burned down, eh?

Henry: Oh yessir, yes indeed, the barn, that's all burned down.

Man: How did the barn catch fire?

Henry: Well, sir, you see, a spark from the house flew over, caught on to the barn, burned the barn down, burned up all the cows and the horses, and after the fire had cooled off, the dog ran in and ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that's what killed the dog.

Man: Oh, then my house burned down too, eh?

Henry: Oh yessir, yes indeed, the house, that's completely destroyed.

Man: Well, how did the house catch fire?

Henry: Well sir, they had some candles burning in the house, and one of the candles caught onto the curtain, and the curtains caught onto the roof, and the spark flew over and caught onto the barn, burned the barn down, burned up all the cows and the horses, and after the fire had cooled off, the dog ran in and ate some of the burnt horseflesh, and that's what killed the dog.

Man: You say they had candles burning in the house where I have gas and electricity? I never knew there was a candle in the place.

Henry: Oh yessir, yessir, they had the candles there. They had the candles burning all around the coffin.

Man: The coffin? Who's dead?

Henry: Oh yessir, yessir, that's another little thing I forgot to tell you about. Since you've been away, your mother-in-law died.

Man: Oh, my mother-in-law died, eh?

Henry: Yessir, yessir, she's dead all right. You needn't worry about that.

Man: What killed my mother-in-law?

Henry: Well sir, I don't know exactly what killed her sir, but around the neighborhood, they say it was from the shock of your wife running away with the chauffeur. But outside of that sir, why, there ain't no news.

[peachessndreamss]

Wolfswood

Summery : Cregan receives an injury while out hunting, his wife cares for him

Characters : Cregan Stark x f!wife reader (no use of Y/N)

Warnings : Cannon typical injury and first aid/wound care, cannon typical hunting

Word count : 4k

A/N : Cregan Stark I love yooou. Also, apologies in advance if this is the most boring thing you've ever read.

Winter had arrived with devastating speed and brutality in the North. The first heavy snowfall had destroyed the last remaining crops left out in the fields and the woodpiles stacked as high as two men and just as wide had looked like enough to see them through two winters but soon began to deplete at an alarming rate. 

And when a great boar had been sighted at the edge of the Wolfswood, Lord Cregan Stark quickly called the men of his house to a hunt, knowing it was better to find the creature now and make use of it rather than let it be starved by the winter. 

They had set out in the pre-dawn, 10 men of House Stark, wrapped in layers of leather, wool and fur, mounted on the most surefooted horses the Winterfell stables had to offer. Lord Stark rode at the front of the group, his steward and close friend Martyn Snow riding beside him, the two of them talking as they disappeared from sight. 

Once in the Wolfswood Lord Stark had led the hunt, first on horseback as they tracked the creature deeper into the cover of the dense wood and then on foot, when the terrain had become too dangerous for the horses and the boar needed to be harried out of its hiding place.

Cregan had been moving slowly north, stepping over tangles of brambles and avoiding tree roots thicker than his thighs, the men of the group formed a large crescent shape as they moved slowly, hopefully driving the animal toward a clearing. One of the men at the end of the line gave a sharp whistle to indicate the group should stop, instinctively his head moved toward the sound and in that split second of distraction Cregan missed the rustling of dead leaves and the heavy breathing of an animal charging. 

The great tusk of the boar gored his left thigh. Cutting deeply through the skin to the muscle beneath, bright red blood immediately falling to the leaves at his feet. The power of the blow from the animal knocked him off his feet and sent him slamming into the cold ground, the back of his head knocking hard against a tree root. The metallic stink of blood filled his nose as shouts went up from the men of the household, they abandoned the hunt and gathered around their injured lord. 

“Get the beast,” was all he managed to say before the wintery sunlight faded from his view and he wasn't aware of pain or cold anymore. 

Lady Stark watched the hunting party return from the covered walkway between the Great Keep and the Armory. She expected to see Cregan leading the party, a triumphant smile on his cold reddened face with the great beast slung over the back of his stallion. 

Instead it was Cregan's steward, Martyn, who galloped in at the front of the procession, his horse wet with sweat, its nostrils flaring as it snorted. The animals rider didn’t look much better, the steward’s face was fearful and the same colour as the bark of the weirwood tree, his pale brown leather jerkin was darkened with blood. 

“My lady,” he called when he saw her watching, “Lord Stark’s been hur’, cut by the boar. Please send for the maester,” 

His words caused a lump of ice to form in her stomach, chilling her from her heart outward. There was always a risk when the men went hunting, and more often than not her husband returned home with some small injury or another but this had to have been serious. As she dashed into the Great Keep she caught sight of a wagon being drawn by two great horses, on the bed of the wagon a tangle of fur and blood, she fought a wave of nausea at the sight and ducked inside the keep. 

Her feet were light and silent as she reached the maester’s chambers, not bothering to knock on the old man’s door she threw it open with a crash. 

The maester was startled by her sudden interruption, jumping up from his stool at the desk with surprising speed and agility for a man who was nearing 70. He opened his mouth, ready to scold whoever had so rudely burst into his rooms, but his words died on his lips. 

“Lord Stark’s been injured in the hunt,” she said, praying her voice didn't waver and give away the fear that was gripping her throat like a claw. 

“Injured how?” The maester replied, moving toward the large wooden sideboard that dominated the room. On the shelves were jars, bottles and boxes containing every substance needed by a maester, and probably a few they didn’t need as well. 

“Gored, I don't know where, they've just arrived back, please come now,” she said firmly, not willing to keep Cregan waiting. 

The maester nodded and gathered his heavy leather case from the side, the bag was filled with sharp tools and simple herbs and mixtures for most every day healing.  He followed behind Lady Stark as she led them to the undercroft of the Great Keep, where there was a great deal of noise and disruption. 

The undercroft was a dark, cool, enclosed space usually used for storage, most days it would only see one or two visitors but now it was alive as men lit torches around the walls while others heaved Cregan’s limp form onto the huge oak table that sat in the centre of the space. They stripped him out of his blood soaked outer clothes and left him lying in his linen shirt and woollen trousers. 

The left leg of his trousers was ripped open at the mid thigh, revealing a 5 inch gash, skin and muscle had been torn apart and glistened dark red. A tourniquet above the wound had stopped most of the bleeding but his face was ghostly pale and his lips an unhealthy shade of blue. 

Lady Stark moved slowly toward the head of the table where Cregan’s closed eyes made him look almost peaceful, the maester went straight to the wound and began cutting away at his trousers. 

“Has he been talking?” he asked as he began to inspect the wound more closely. 

“A little, but he was unconscious for a minute or so after it happened,” the steward replied, standing by Cregran’s right hip, wringing his hands together. 

“Hello my love,” Lady Stark said softly, brushing her hand over his forehead, willing herself not to fall to her knees and weep when she felt how cold his skin was. 

His grey eyes fluttered open and blinked slowly, trying to bring his wife’s face into focus, the world around him seemed to shift violently, left and right, up and down but her warm hand on top of his head held him steady. 

“Now, what have you been up to?” she asked softly, as if addressing one of their children. 

Cregan’s whole left leg throbbed painfully and his stomach roiled with nausea, he swallowed once, finding his mouth and throat dry. 

“It's barely a scratch,” he croaked. Lady Stark gave a small huff that might have been out of amusement and stroked her fingers over the crown of his head. 

“‘Tis a dreadful looking scratch,” she replied, “still, the maester’s here now,”. 

Cregan hissed with the pain as the maester applied a green tinged ointment to the wound. Sweat broke out all over his body and he felt his hands start to tremble. 

“Did they get the beast?” Cregan asked, once the initial wave of pain had passed and faded back into a constant throb. 

Lady Stark glanced at Martyn who gave a small nod of his head. 

“Of course, and you shall have the beast's head for your chambers if you want”. 

He gave what appeared to be a weak nod before closing his eyes again and taking a deep breath. Cregan had known pain before but dislocated shoulders, broken bones and the sharp bite of Valyrian steel were nothing compared to this. 

At his thigh the maester had soaked a small piece of linen in a clear, strong smelling substance that he placed over the wound before tightly wrapping a clean bandage before removing the tourniquet tied high up his thigh. As the blood was allowed to flow back into the lower leg the colour returned to the skin but there were no signs of excessive bleeding at the wound. The maeester turned his attention to Lady Stark. 

“It’s as clean a cut as we can expect from a tusk, most importantly there’s no sign of dirt within, I have great faith that it will heal well,” the maester explained, wiping his hands on a clean piece of linen that was tucked into the belt at his waist. 

“I'll go to my rooms now and make a poultice to fight infection and in the meantime he can be moved to his rooms to ensure he's comfortable,” he added. 

With a small nod from Lady Stark the men still standing around the room went into action, they brought a stretcher and carefully moved Cregan from the table to the stretcher. He was then carried slowly through the Keep and up to his rooms. The masters chambers were the largest but the least used within the Great Keep, Cregan and his wife favoured the smaller but warmer Lady’s chambers, especially as they were the closest rooms to the children’s rooms. 

Once he was settled on the bed she sent for two bowls of water and a cloth before stripping him of the last remaining pieces of clothing. Unable to lift him from the bed to get his shirt over his head she cut the fabric straight up the middle with a small knife, pushing the two halves over his chest and cutting the sleeves apart to expose his arms. She also had to cut away what was left of his trousers, finding some of the material stuck to his skin with blood. 

Once he was as bare as the day he’d been born she soaked the cloth in warm water and set about washing him. Somehow the blood had managed to get up to his neck and down to the bottom of his left foot. She started at his neck, watching as droplets of reddened water ran down onto his chest and collected in the dark mess of curls that started at his collar bone, completely covered his chest and then funnelled into a thick strip that ran all the way down his stomach to the apex of his thighs.  

“I swear you're more beast than man sometimes,” she said softly as she dabbed at his chest, lifting the blood from his skin and hair. 

“It's the wolf in me,” he replied softly. 

Her head snapped towards his face, she’d had no idea he was awake and seeing his soft gaze on her face brought a wave of emotion flooding through her body. The usual surge of love she felt whenever she looked at him, intense relief at seeing his cheeks a healthy flushed colour after how deathly pale he’d looked before and bubbling anger brought on by the extreme fear that still sat in her stomach like a block of ice. 

“The wolf couldn't smell the boar sneaking up on you?” She asked as she felt tears burn her eyes. Cregan offered her a small, reassuring smile. 

“The wolf is more,” he paused a second while he thought, “passive...”. 

Unable to resist him, Lady Stark felt herself smiling and the two of them shared a laugh before she continued to wash him, revealing the pale skin under the dark curls and dried blood. 

“You're lucky it wasn’t more serious,” she said softly as she wrung the red water out of the cloth into a mostly empty bowl before dipping the cloth back into clean water, “if it’d caught on the inside of your leg you'd have been dead before they got you home,” she added, an icy edge to her voice as the fear that had gripped her throat now throbbed behind her eyes. 

“But I wasn't,” he placated gently, reaching out and taking hold of her wrist as she dabbed at his stomach.

“I'm fine,” he added when he noticed the tears gathering in her eyes and the angry wobble of her bottom lip. 

She snatched the hand from his, throwing the cloth into the bowl of clean water at her feet. The water splashed up, catching the skirt of her dress. 

“And what if you weren't? What if you weren’t fine?  Your son is barely 9 months old Cregan, do you expect me to hold the entire North until he comes of age? Fighting off every grasping lord from The Wall to Dorne trying to get to him and steal his birthright?” An angry tear tracked down her cheek.

“I cannot be regent, Cregan, I cannot be here without you,”. 

He reached out again and took hold of her balled first at the wrist, bringing her hand towards his face, pressing a soft kiss to her curled fingers. 

“And nor will you be,” he said softly, his lips still touching her fingers, “you and I are going to grow very old together, so old they write songs about us when we're all but turned to dust,”. 

She gave a small, watery laugh through her tears and pulled her hand out of his again. 

“Now you're just placating me,” she said, reaching into the bowl for the cloth and ringing it out. 

“Of course I am,” he replied with a smile, stretching his right arm up and settling it behind his head, the bend in his arm causing his muscle to flex and bulge under his skin. Were it not for the bandage around his leg he would have looked as if he was just relaxing for the evening. 

“I understand well that my most important duty is keeping you happy,”. 

Lady Stark scoffed at him and returned to the gentle washing of his stomach. A small smile tugging up the corners of his lips as he watched her tending to him so carefully. He'd been in a fair few scrapes before this one and was always happy to be tended to by his wife, the mixture of her gentle hand and sharp words always made him feel better. 

“Am I permitted to say how I'm enjoying your undivided attention?” He asked. 

“You may not say it” she replied, flicking her eyes to his face and catching him grinning at her. 

“I shall just think it then,”. 

They both fell into a tense silence as her cloth inched closer to the bandaged wound. The maester had said he would come by later that day to stitch the wound closed once it had time to dry and he could be certain there was no rot. Sweat broke out across his body as her gentle touch began to feel like needles piercing his skin, he kept his jaw firmly shut, unwilling to let a single sound of pain pass his lips.

“Would you take something for the pain?” She asked, not needing to hear him cry out to know he was in great discomfort, she wrang the cloth out again wetted it with clean water again. 

“I would rather keep my wits,” he replied, his voice strained. 

“Then perhaps a little when we’re finished and you can rest?” She pressed. She knew he disliked the effects of milk of the poppy but seeing him in such pain made her heart ache. 

“Perhaps,” he nodded before pressing his lips tightly closed, redoubling his efforts to stay silent.

She finished his bed bath at his left foot, cleaning the dried blood from the bottom of his toes and the ball of his foot. And all the pain that had passed before paled in comparison to the agony he felt as her hands gently tended the most ticklish part of his body. He fought with every ounce of willpower to stay still and not curl his toes and kick his foot out of her hands. 

Once finished she rung the cloth out one final time before standing and carrying the two bowls of water across the room and setting them aside to be cleared away later. 

“Will you sleep for a while? She asked him, moving back toward him and running her hand over his forehead before drawing a soft woollen blanket over his nakedness. 

Cregan nodded, suddenly feeling exhausted and wanting nothing more than to close his eyes and sleep until the dawn of the summer. 

“Alright, will you take a little milk of the poppy?” she asked.

He nodded again, opening one of his eyes to peek at her face. 

“And a kiss to sweeten it?” He asked, letting the corners of his lips quirk up just a touch. 

She laughed softly, taking the small bottle of white milky liquid from the table beside their bed. She unstopped it and helped him lift his head off the pillow, she held the bottle to his lips while he took a small swallow before dropping his head back onto the pillow with his eyes closed. 

“And to make it sweet,” she said, bending and pressing her lips to his. 

As she stood he opened his eyes again although she could already see he was fighting the effects of the milk of the poppy. 

“Kiss the babies for me as well?” he asked. 

“Of course,” she replied, stroking his forehead again and watching his eyes close as he finally gave in and allowed himself to be dragged into a dreamless sleep. 

She watched him for a few minutes, keeping an eye on the steady ride and fall of his broad chest. In sleep he always appeared to be younger, his features softened as sleep took away the worries and the duties he carried on his shoulders every day. 

Once she was happy he would sleep for a while and there was nothing else she could do for him, Lady Stark went in search of Martyn the steward, she knew he would be worried and was waiting for news of his lord and friend. 

She found him outside the stables, running a brush over Cregan’s stallion. 

“Is he alright?” Martyn asked as she approached him. There was a panicked edge to his voice and his face betrayed his worries. 

“He'll be fine,” she soothed with a nod, “he's made of strong stuff,” she added as she placed a comforting hand on his forearm. 

“I'm sorry he was hurt, my lady,” he said, already looking lighter knowing Cregan was alright. 

“You've nothing to be sorry for, he's a man grown and it's his own fault if he doesn't hear a boar sneaking up on him,” she said, making her voice playful and teasing. 

“I'll pray for him,” the steward said, returning to brushing the huge grey horse that stood patiently in front of him.

“Thank you, I know he'll appreciate that,”. 

She stayed talking to the steward a little longer, the two of them discussing how to make the best of the creature that’d been killed that morning. The sky was quickly darkening and the air turning colder by the minute, although no new snow had fallen that day there was a crisp smell of it on the air and dark, heavy clouds covered the sky, threatening a heavy snowfall that night. 

She left Martyn to his final tasks for the day and returned to The Great Keep, she went first to the nursery to look in on their children. The eldest, Aly, was playing on the floor with her nurse, the two of them racing carved wooden animals across the floor. She paid no attention to her mother when she entered the room, too caught up in her game, while their son slept in his cradle. 

She lifted the boy from his crib and carried him to a chair beside the fire where she sat, focusing on nothing other than the small sound of his breathing and the tiny movements as his chest expanded and contracted with every breath. 

After a few minutes Aly got up from her spot on the carpet, her wooden horse still clutched tightly in her small hand as she walked toward her mother. 

“Where's papa?” She asked, coming to stand beside the chair, reaching out her own empty hand to take her mothers. 

“Resting, the men went hunting this morning, do you remember?”. 

“Will he put me to bed?” Aly asked, letting the toy horse drop from her hand with a small thud. 

“Not tonight, I can do it tonight,” Lady Stark replied. 

The girl sighed heavily, like she'd received some truly dreadful news, her small shoulders slumping. 

“But Papa tells the best bedtime stories,”. 

“I know he does, and I’m sure he’ll have a very special one for you tomorrow night,”. 

After another heavy sigh Aly climbed up into the chair with her mother and younger brother, curling into Lady Starks chest and closing her eyes. The girl found a loose thread on the bodice of her mothers dress and begin to twist it around her finger, in a few minutes she too has slipped off to sleep. 

The warm weight of her children soothed the Lady’s fractured nerves, this wasn't the first time her husband had returned home injured, his body was a tapestry of scars, each one she'd lovingly touched and kissed in turn, learning his scars as closely as a traveller learns a map. 

When she heard the first spatterings of wet snow from the nursery window Lady Stark decided it was time for her to look in on her patient. Calling the nurse over and letting the young woman take the sleeping girl from her lap. 

“Let her sleep a few more minutes, then wake her or she’ll never sleep tonight,” Lady Stark instructed as she stood and carried her small son back to his crib. 

“And I'll be back to feed this one once I've looked in on Lord Stark,” she added, lowering him into the cradle and watching as he settled. 

The nurse nodded and smiled softly as she lowered Aly onto her day bed, covering the girl with a soft embroidered blanket. 

Cregan didn’t stir when the heavy oak doors of his chambers were opened and his lady wife stepped inside, she paused, watching him for a few moments to see that his condition was unchanged, the only difference was that he’d thrown the blanket off his body and was now lying naked, his whole body exposed to the cool air. Moving toward him she noticed his breathing was still easy and his cheeks were a healthy colour. She touched the back of her hand to his cheek and then his forehead. 

At her touch his eyes flicked open and he blinked slowly as the world around him came into focus. He made a small sound of approval that rumbled up deep from his chest as his eyes focused on his wife. 

“How are you feeling?” She asked softly. 

“Better for seeing you,” he replied, his voice gravelly. 

“You're a dreadful flirt Cregen,” she replied with a smile, knowing his ability to flirt was a far better indication he was on the mend than anything else would be. 

“Come lie with me,” he said, choosing to ignore his wife's chastisement.

“Only for a few minutes,” she replied, moving to the other side of the bed and climbing on it, settling herself beside him and placing her head on his shoulder. 

He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and encouraged her to roll onto her side, tightening her body to his in a familiar and comfortable way and she sighed contentedly. Her hand rested on his chest, her fingers pushing and playing with the dark curls of hair. Cregan turned his head and placed a soft kiss on her forehead, feeling the warmth of her body sink into his own flesh and bones. 

“I should ban you from future hunts,” she said, her voice muffled by having her face squashed on his shoulder, “make you take an oath never to put yourself in such danger again,”

“Even for you, I could not swear such an oath,” he replied, kissing her forehead again and keeping his lips pressed to her skin, breathing in the familiar and comforting scent from her hair. 

The two lay in silence for several minutes, Lady Stark listening to the steady and deep drum beat of his heart, the thumping sound reminding her that he was still alive, injured but alive and home with her and in their private moment it was easy for her to believe that was the only thing that mattered in all the known world. 

“But I can swear, it will only be death that keeps me from you,”.

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a Yandere vampire. Specifically, the beautiful kind that shape-shift into giant, humanoid bat creatures. The hopeless romantic vampire who cannot forget his human lover when he was once human…

Yandere Vampire who was oh so thrilled when you knocked at his door and shivered on his steps. What a scrumptious morsel you were! So soft and tender looking… he couldn’t wait to eat you. Your tears fell as you babbled about how you were thrown off your horse that was spooked by a pack of wolves and you ran towards his manor in hopes of safety. You were simply out looking for your lover. You were lucky to escape those damned werewolves! Those mangy mutts always laid their paws on most of the prey around here… which made you all the more scrumptious.

Yandere Vampire who invited you into his humble abode and ushered you into his living room to warm up at the fire. You couldn’t help but feel suspicious of his overly friendly smile and his incessant touching. Why did he dress up like he was from the Victorian era? And his accent was so thick… was he Romanian perhaps?

Yandere Vampire who gives you a fresh set of clothes and tells you that he has a spare room in the west end of the manor. You’re very grateful to him and even give him a soft smile that caused his chest to stir. When was the last time he’s had pleasant company? He couldn’t remember since it’s been so many years since a meal came to him…

Yandere Vampire who found himself sitting beside you as you asked him about his life. He was flattered that you showed interest in him. He didn’t find himself that interesting of an individual since he’s spent a millennium alone. Yet you seemed so happy to hear about his hobbies and book collection. The way your eyes sparkled and your cheeks flushed made him miss the days he was once human… but he could not let your human innocence enrapture his lonely heart. He must feast on you. It’s the way of living after all. No matter how strikingly similar your appearance was to the love his life.

Yandere Vampire who begins to feel more hesitant when you laugh and smile. Your mannerisms were so similar to a lover he had when he was human… it couldn’t be, right? There was no way they had returned to him… he was a monster now.

Yandere Vampire who sneaks into your room when you’re fast asleep. You were completely oblivious to the way his cold hands roamed your body as he dragged his fangs across your delicate neck. He’d make your death quick and painless… yet he couldn’t help but want to check to see if you really may be a reincarnation of his lover. What if you were? Would you be able to love him again?

Yandere Vampire who choked back a sob when he found a birthmark on your skin that was the same as his dead lovers. They were back to him… at long last, he wouldn’t be alone!

Yandere Vampire who leaves your room in a hurry in a cloud of black smoke. The vampire rushes to his room so he can stand on his balcony. His pale hands grab the metal rails as his body sprouts white fur and white bat wings spring from his back. He needed to feast but he wouldn’t feast on you. No, never you… his beloved.

Yandere Vampire who raids a nearby village and savagely feasts. He needed to build up his strength so he’d be able to turn you into a vampire as well! He couldn’t lose you again… not when he finally had you in his possession once more. He wondered if you’d remember him if he showed you all the portraits he had painted of you over the years.

Yandere Vampire who began to fantasize of all the ways he’d make love to you. Of how he’d litter your body with bite marks and bruises so you’d always have his ownership on you. Gods it made him breathless imagining being with you in this monstrous form. He wondered if yours would be more beautiful than his… he could hardly contain his excitement!

If only he was aware that you had a lover already who was his sworn enemy… a werewolf.

[blackseafoam]

A Bad Batch x Red Dead Redemption AU that’s been living in my head for a while 🤠

Omega does not like the names Hunter gave the horses

The Batch is a small time outlaw gang of brothers hiding out as hands on a dude ranch. Trying to leave their pasts as mercenaries behind them. Until they receive a mysterious letter that their long lost younger sister is being housed in an orphanage nearby. After an unsuccessful attempt to legally adopt her, they return later to break her out.

Now they’re all wanted criminals trying to outrun the law as well as their past.