#like legitimately loathe it

[sevplays]

one day videogames'll stop being Dark Souls Emulators

one day I'll be able to actually play a game without immediately being eviscerated by the first pack of enemies I come across

one day

[paingoes]

underrated paris guilt moment is when delta goes to see him after he got his lung punctured and delta is staring at the wound too long and paris says “happy?”. he knows he deserved it.

[maliro-t]

as a bona fide vaxleth lover i am more confused than ever about how they are portrayed on the animated series i'm not gonna lie 😭

[aidenwaites]

every day i think about the disco elysium Something Beautiful Is Going to Happen mural and thats not an exaggeration in the slightest

[tamaharu]

im just really fucking tired of feeling like im always scrambling against the edge of shit, and not knowing whether its because of brain issues or what fucking ever or behavior i can fix if i just commit to fixing it. god. fuck. i really fucking need adderall.

[irregularjohnnywiggins]

Look, I don't want to be mean and message the person directly, but someone commented on the Bruce-Oliver twitter post that it was OOC for Oliver because 'Oliver Queen would be happy to be a billionaire because he's everything Bruce haters think Bruce is' and, like, tell me you've never read a Green Arrow comic without telling me you've never read a Green Arrow comic.

[himblebo]

Hmmmmm all this cc Babcock content has reawakened way too many feelings about [REDACTED] and brother I am beating them back with a stick

[thedragonofcauldron]

I would like to add to the DSM questionnaire the question "does shopping for holiday gifts make you feel like horseshit because you're torn between trying to make all your gifts have the same emotional weight for each recipient because it's important to be fair so nobody feels neglected but also it's bloody impossible to be sure of that unless everything you give is trite nonsense and you can't do that because then it'll look like you're half assing it and everyone will think you don't actually care about them so you spend hours searching while your guts roil with anxiety that you are going to ruin at least one person's day so maybe it'd be better if you just got no gifts for anyone because then it's fair and nobody's going to think you're just trying to participate with minimum effort because your we just not participating at all?"

Because goddamn I am trying to break through the decision paralysis here and after being diagnosed the hindsight of being like this all my life is something else. I can tell myself I should relax and it's not a big deal all I want but it doesn't work I just wanna get nice things for people

On the bright side its excellent protection from impulse buying cheap garbage because in the ten million stages of overthinking looking at reviews is always high up on the list

[doubleca5t]

"weird" really is the perfect descriptor for modern conservatives because I would argue the defining feature of the current american far right is that they exist purely in their own bespoke media ecosystem that is both highly conspiratorial and mostly untethered from the truth. this is a group of people whose belief system has been debunked and disproven so many times by legitimate sources that they've resorted to just telling each other increasingly absurd lies in order to justify those beliefs. the upshot of this being that the minute you remove any of those lies from said bespoke media environment, there's really no appropriate response other than some varient of "bro, what the fuck are you talking about?"

how am I supposed to respond to someone who says that Democrats are running a satanic cult where they ritually sacrifice children to harvest their adrenachome - a theory that is not only insane, but is also a throwaway gag from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas. what do you expect me to say to someone who says that trans women are dominating in women's sports, and when asked to give examples responds with a list of non-white cis women? How am I supposed to take someone seriously who thinks that wildfires are caused by space lasers controlled by the Rothschilds or that schools are installing litter boxes for children who identify as cats or that most large corporations are "Marxist" because they have mandatory diversity trainings?

like sure I can take them seriously as a political threat but how am I supposed to have any respect for them as *people*. because as people they are just deeply fucking weird. we should be able to dismiss them out of hand because it's not like they'd care about whether or not we're making a reasoned argument

[hor3nee]

• Life •

Sukuna grappling becoming a father while you give birth.

CW/TW: GN! reader, Labour/Childbirth, Sukuna typical violence mentions, BRIEF suggestive stuff, Nothing graphic, Religious metaphors & LOTS of life/death talk, (LMK if I should add anything else!)

Characters: Sukuna x Reader

AN: Nobody dies in this fic! It's fluff-ish. (It's Sukuna and reader giving birth, as fluffy as that can be man), prequel to this Descendant fic

   Life was such a fickle thing, not that it mattered to Sukuna. He was above life, death sickness and health, beyond it, above the proper empathy to care for it. It wasn't that he didn't understand, because he did, once mortal himself, and existing on this earth surrounded by the humanity that populated on it for years as a curse, he understood. But there was no legitimate reason for it to matter to him unless he could gain from a life, there was no reason to mind it.

And by the loose, greedy and otherwise just gluttonous standards of what it meant to be a creature of 'gain' to Sukuna, you fit it to the T, your life mattered to him. Your life, it was something he wanted, no needed to maintain to be kept satisfied, if you weren't there to be by his side, he'd be left starved.

To lose such a thing, would only ignite a certain wrath inside of him.

The screams of agony that parted from your pretty little lips had his chest twisting into a feeling of irritation. He much preferred your screams of ecstasy, making you scream his name in sweet pretty moans when he bedded you. Not this, screams of something he was also the culprit of in fairness, sobbed screams of pain as your body tore to birth his child.

Sukuna enjoyed such screeches of terror, weak defeated sobs he could rip and tear from the pathetic lot of mortals he terrorized, all of whose lives served no purpose to him. The issue is, yours does serve purpose, a great purpose to Sukuna. You're always there, by his side, and when you're not, it bothers him, he's greedy, hungry for you.

Your pain only infuriates him, he doesn't like it at all, no, he loathes listening to it.

Finally, finally, it stops after what felt like torturously long, it comes to a stop. Like that, the tightness inside his chest unwrapped, Sukuna didn't think he'd ever feel relief, he wouldn't need to, he had never fought an opponent he couldn't defeat, pillaged an army that would come close to his strength there was no concerns or worry for him to��have to be relieved from. Yet here he was basking in such relief. Your screams stop, now instead replaced by the bothersome cries of something much more smaller. Squeaky small wails, that of an infant. his infant.

"Lord Sukuna." A muttered voice of one of the midwives comes through the door separating Sukuna from the delivery room. The door opens to the midwives attending finishing up and then all bowing in submission, their heads hanging low as Sukuna stands by the door-frame.

"Done?" He asks, more so a statement, a demand as everything he speaks is.

"Yes-" The meek voice of a midwife responds, she not daring to look up from the floor of the delivery room.

"Then what the hell are you dimwitted fools doing? OUT." There's the slightest growl in his voice at the command, one that though slight works wonders on any who dare stand in his presence, and to which without a moment of hesitation has all the midwives scatter out of the room, rushing out with their heads low. Only one pauses to shut the door behind herself, not wanting to risk the stupidity of leaving the door open.

Now, only the sounds of a baby's cries echo in the room, the small thing wrapped, protected in a small blanket. The moment is deafening as it is loud, there are as many thoughts as there is nothing in his eyes as he stares at the small baby you held. Yes, you made his child, 9 tedious months of him practically carrying you around everywhere and it was out now.

Sukuna was, well Sukuna, he didn't bother thinking much of the specifics, but rather the obvious reality of the situation during those passing months, and didn't see a reason to. He could still sleep with you, could still have you around, could still listen to your voice speak with him in converse. Was it different? Sure, but in no way that bothered him. Cravings? The King of the Curses can provide feasts. Tired? You needn't walk, he has four arms for a reason. The bodily change? Sukuna guts humans like pigs, the size of your stomach was far from grotesque to such a demon like Sukuna.

But now, he is met with the reality, the sight, the sound the smell of the newborn babe, absolutely reeking of familiarity, a literal complete being of two halves, Sukuna and you. It's overwhelming, and not in the way Sukuna likes, not in the hedonistic pleasures he enjoys but rather overwhelming in thoughts. Thoughts as rampant as blank in his mind, fogged like he was considering all of this.

"Sukuna." A clear call of his name comes from your throat despite its audible hoarseness of exhaustion, still as captivating as always, catching his entire attention. No one can command the Sukuna, but he doesn't need to be commanded when you call for him, because it's in his full will and gratification to come to your side, which he of course does. Stepping softly to where you are laid, surrounded by stained sheets, tools and incense presumably used in aid of the birth.

"What?" His throat rumbles, a question with no particular answer aside from the obvious literal whole baby you had birthed in your arms.

"Look at them... Beautiful, aren't they?" And perhaps by the grace of a god he'd doubted existed, there was a moment of serenity now, the fog cleared from the depths of his sick mind as he gazed upon the small bundle in your arms. That was your grace perhaps, no definitely, definitely your grace, you had bore his child.

That damned sinister grin came over his face as he reached down to the infant, the large monstrously large hand of his ever so delicately traced the cheek of the little one, a comical contrast between himself and the child. For the entirety of you and Sukuna's time spent together, he had considered you the only life that truly mattered to him, and now you had created a life from the mere womb, you've given him another life he'd find true importance in.

His child's life, blessed by the sanctified arms that cradled it.

"Divine, rather." He rumbled, a short snicker leaving his twisted tongue, but laced with genuine adoration. Utter devotion to this small life, to both two lives he had found himself so graciously gifted. Of you, of his child.

[drivemysoul]

yes it’s just hair and it’ll grow back but i was just barely liking my hair and now it’s gonna take me another 3 years to get it to a length i don’t hate myself with

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

I’m a fierce believer and defender of Smooth Brain Astarion (affectionate).

I love that, if left to his own devices, he ends up dead in a ditch. I love that this pasty menace of an elf is a walking disaster. I love that his brain produces one coherent thought per day, only to have it backfire on him later on. I love that his first choice in freedom is to unapologetically be the worst version of himself. Because it makes sense. 

That’s what abuse and trauma do to your brain—they fuck with it. 

And in Astarion’s defence, the man didn’t have to use his brain for nearly 200 years—it’s probably the very thing that kept him as alive as he can be; to survive 200 years of pure shit. 

And what use is his brain when his days and nights are dictated by someone else for as long as he can remember? When he has no say in what clothes he wears. When he doesn’t get to choose what or when to eat. When his body and mind aren’t his own, distorted by torture and hunger and self-loathing, forced to obey his vampiric master. Why use his brain when his survival depends exclusively on his abuser’s whims? 

Astarion could’ve come up with the most brilliant plan possible to escape Cazador or save a mark from their doom, but he never stood a chance of succeeding—which doesn’t mean that he didn’t get punished for trying (or even thinking about it) anyway.

Existing under Cazador was a game he couldn’t win, so why bother playing? 

And it’s only by chance that Astarion’s autonomy is returned to him literally overnight. It’s only natural that he’s overwhelmed by his newfound freedom. How is he expected to make sound decisions when he can’t even recall a time when he could do and say as he pleased? 

Of course Astarion is a walking disaster when he finds himself on that beach after the Nautiloid crash—and he’s fully aware of that! That’s why it’s so crucial for him to get on the player’s/other companion’s good side.

He’s self-aware enough to be so insecure about himself that he would rather trust a stranger’s capabilities than his own. 

Being a catastrophe of a person is part of Astarion’s character journey. Not only does he have to reclaim his personhood, he has to learn how to depend on his own brain again and I think that's such a painfully beautiful, important message Baldur’s Gate 3 sends. 

Because healing isn’t pretty. Nor is it easy.

You’re not alright the moment you’re free of whatever horrors you had to live through—and that’s ok! There’s time and room for you to adjust. 

And the moment Astarion feels more or less safe within his new environment, when he’s fed and treated like a person worthy of respect and consideration, his insights, skills and perception are crucial assets to the group.

Astarion knows his art and literature, and although his little remarks are unhinged at times, he's genuinely witty. Even his objections are, considering the circumstances, absolutely legitimate.

Personally, I love seeing Smooth Brain Astarion become more and more secure in his judgement the more Tav/other companions trust and support him.

Astarion is smart, his brain’s just been stewed for nearly 200 years.

[sexboobomb]

Why do online leftists seem to think that voting is a matter of moral purity instead of a purely utilitarian action done in concert with other more effective forms of advocacy and direct action?

Inability or unwillingness to break down what voting actually means I guess. Whether they realize it or not, everyone not voting as a matter of solidarity with Gaza is effectively making themselves a single-policy voter, thus signaling that all the myriad of other very important factors are unimportant to them.

Trump wants to genocide trans people, while Biden doesn't? Doesn't matter because they're both terrible for Gaza.

Trump wants poor people to be thrown in prison and made to work under our modern-day chattel slavery prison system, while Biden wants to legalize marijuana and forgive nonviolent crime? Doesn't matter because they're both terrible for Gaza.

Trump wants to reduce taxes on the rich and stop funding public works and infrastructure, while Biden is putting billions of dollars into trying to revitalize rail-based infrastructure and public transit? Doesn't matter because they're both terrible for Gaza.

Like, I get it! I really really do! I want so fucking badly for America to stop being a fucking menace to the rest of the world and to stop fucking propping up Israel as a legitimate state that is constantly committing genocide. I really really do! But I have to recognize that I do not have the power to change that part of this country, much as I might loathe it, by not voting!

The best thing I can do right now is try to do everything I can to prevent things getting worse, and to improve the few things I can. I can't start some glorious revolution. I can't write up a world-changing manifesto that magically convinces the entire country to change the system to something better! I just can't, and that sucks!

It really really sucks to be helpless to change things, particularly when that thing is literal genocide, but putting your head in the sand and letting it get even worse is not the right play.

[lena-in-a-red-dress]

AU where Kara is still an assistant when Lena becomes CEO of CatCo. She makes some changes but one thing Cat tells her under no uncertain terms is that a) Kara stays, and b) she's destined to become a reporter when she's ready.

I'm going back and forth on whether Lena and Kara are friends at this point, or whether Lena simply takes on CatCo before they meet. But basically I want to see Kara having to a) build new connections to get Lena what she needs and b) learning what it's like to work for somebody who doesn't treat like dirt most days.

Like, imagine her standing dumbfounded the first time she brings Lena her coffee, because Lena simply thanks her, genuinely. And then the flush of pride when Lena comments in pleasant surprise when she discovers the coffee is perfectly warm-- not hot enough to scald, but not the usual tepidness of coffee thats had to travel three blocks to get to her.

Because Cat always took those little efforts for granted, as an expectation. But Lena smiles slyly as she regards Kara anew, and says "I think we're going to work together just fine."

Because Kara worked for Cat, not with her. And that small semantic means the world. Because its true-- Cat, and now Lena, wouldn't be able to do what she does without Kara doing what she does.

And that just makes Kara want to work all the harder. She finds she WANTS to stay late when Lena does, mostly because Lena urges her to go home, and that kind of kindness is the kind that's paid back by staunchly ignoring her and sticking around anyway. And she takes extra effort to learn all of Lena's preferences and idiosyncracies, so that she knows exactly what Lena needs when she's had a meeting with that particular board member she's outwardly civil to but clearly loathes.

The first and only time Kara brings Lena salmon for lunch, she's absolutely devastated when Lena looks at it, shoulders falling. "I forgot to tell you I can't stand salmon," she says, resignedly.

Kara's eyes go wide in horror. "Oh! No, that's okay, I'll just go--"

"Please don't bother, it's my fault, I never told you--"

"It's no problem at all. Just-- wait here okay?"

As if Lena would be anywhere but her desk. But in ten minutes, Kara returns with a greasy paper sack.

"I promise, this isn't a punishment for needing something last minute," Kara says quickly. "These are legitimately the best burgers in the city, and honestly, it's the greatest gift I could ever give you."

Okay. Maybe she's laying it on a little thick. But Lena only looks at her with a bemused smile. "All right," she slowly agrees. Her eyebrow quirks. "I'm assuming you picked up something similar for yourself?"

Kara blushes. "Yeah. Can't help myself."

"Good. Then you can eat with me."

Freezing, Kara feels like a deer in the headlights. For all that Lena has treatedher as an equal, they've never eaten together in the same room. They usually eat at their own desks, working through.

"Really?"

"Really." Lena's gaze turns artificially solemn. "If I'm going to have a self-induced heart attack, I better have someone there to call 911."

Unable to keep herself from grinning, Kara scuttles to retrieve her own burger and fries from her desk. And there, together, they share the first of many, many meals to come.

[importantstudentbusinessspy-blog]

Heirs

Pairing: Robb Stark x Baratheon/Lannister reader

When Ned Stark comes to King's landing, he learns that out of Cersei's children, you, the arranged bride of his eldest son, are the only legitimate heir of Robert's. This discovery challenges the Lannisters and costs Ned his life.

When Ned Stark is executed, Robb is left broken, his family torn apart... and the only person he can take his frustration out on is you, his arranged bride, and the sister of the boy who ruined his life and had his father killed.

Tags: Arranged marriage, Robb is a bad boy in this one, corruption, innocent reader, first time,

CH. 1 First Meeting - Ned Stark's eldest son and Robert Baratheon’s eldest (legitimate) daughter got off to a relatively exciting start.

Chapter tags: fluff, first meeting, Robb and reader are kids here, teasing, Cersei is nice,

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The lord of Winterfell sat stoic, alongside his lady wife at the long table, on which one side seated his people, across from the other, which seated the party from Kings Landing. Ned Stark's sons were sitting by his side. The eldest, Robb, had just turned eleven. Now, in the midst of his warrior training, the boy wasn't small by any means. Though his body was developing and he had already reached his mother in height, Robb still maintained a spark of childlike michieve in his grey eyes.

Ned had wanted Robb to have a good childhood, but circumstances had forced him to educate his son to fight and rule from a young age. He was glad Robb still had cleverness in him to retort his brothers jests, and the chivalry to protect his little sisters, but knew the playfulness would someday come to an end when Robb will need to lead his people into winter.

The Baratheons visiting from Kings Landing sat alongside the Starks, eyeing the table in front of them, some were eating away happily, like the king, while some, like his wife Cersie grimaced at the display of meat, likely not used to the lack of decorum in her sheltered palace.

Ned hid his guilty smirk at the discomfort. Cersei and her children all sat together as well, the eldest, a pretty girl of nine was helping her rowdy little brothers and sister to food, mixes of greens consisting of fruits, nuts, and vegetables, with measured and delicate movements.

Ned both loathed and excited at the idea of betrothing his son to the kings daughter. There would be peace in the realm on one hand. On the other hand, her grandfather Tywin's and your mother's ambition and the Lannisters' reputation for manipulation made him uneasy.

The girl was frail, weak even compared to Rob’s small and hyper siblings, let alone to Robb himself. Already you were attracting attention, as the boys at the table kept turning to look at you. With long hair falling on the side of your tanned face and freckles decorating blushing cheeks.

Before the feast, he was pulled Robert and Cersei aside and discussed the match.

Not enjoying the attention some of the boys and even some men were giving you, Ned gave Robb a nudge, interrupting his conversation with his brother, Jon. "Perhaps you should entertain your guest, son?"

The boy followed his fathers gaze to you, then to the men eyeing you and understanding set. Robb nodded and stood to head over to the table where you sat. He bent down and whispered something in your ear, making you jump in surprise at first, before listening in. You looked up at him, feeling a slight warmth on your ears and cheeks, and turned to ask your mother for permission to go with him. The queen nodded at your request, smiling fondly at you, momentarily eyeing Robb with suspicion.

The boy offered one of his signature, easygoing smiles, offering you his hand before leading you outside.

One of his footsteps was twice as big as yours. You had to jog rather than walk to keep up with him, lifting up your dress high enough not to trip but also low enough not to expose yourself. He didn't slow down to match your speed either, which caused your father, the king, to smirk to his old friend.

Ned and Catelyn watched their heir leave the feast with the princess, then turned to his men, who asked him questions about the following year's harvest.

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You let yourself be led out of the warm and loud comfort of the great hall and out into the chilled, windfilled night of the north. "Where are we going?"

"Anywhere," the boy leading you replied. "My father told me to entertain you."

"Oh," you let out a small breath and looked down shyly. Of course, he wasn't with you of his own free will.

"Wanna see what northerners do for fun?" He asked.

You felt a flash of nervousness go down your spine. "Is it dangerous?"

He turned around to look if you were serious, grey eyes studied you in amusement before he let out a chuckle. "No. We just climb up the walls," He nodded towards a massive stone wall of the castle of winterfell, rising up to touch the night sky.

you eyes traveled all the way up, and you mouth dried. Your fear of hights warred with your desire to impress him. In the end, your fear won. "Then, m-maybe we shouldn't."

"Oh, princess.” he drawled, tilting his head mockingly. “Are you scared?"

You felt heat rise to your cheeks. He was so unnecessarily teasing. Nevertheless, you would stand your ground, just as your mother taught you to. "You can not speak to me that way."

He stopped walking and turned to look at her. "Oh, I see. You do have guts…" He said calmly, approaching you. Deep grey eyes staring at you under messy dark brown hair. Taking a step back, you had decided you'd rather he yelled. It would have scared you less than this.

You tried your best not to cower. "I don't want to do something dangerous -" you winced at how your voice rose louder than you had intended, making you sound all the more afraid. "Sorry," you added in a small voice. "Can we do something else?"

He raised one dark brow at you as if considering your question. Finally, he spoke again. "No." He said, and he pulled you by the hand anyway.

Your eyes widened in fear, and you glanced back to the feast, to you, mother, and sister.

"Easy, princess." He said before facing you again and saying quietly, "I won't let you fall."

You didn't trust him, but it didn't feel like you had much of a choice, feeling like you were fighting an uphill battle.

The two of you climbed up the wall. It went up around five meters and was already on a hill. It was the highest you had ever been, and the effects were obvious, as you panted, your lungs trying to catch up with you. Robb had no trouble, effortlessly climbing the slope, not carefully stepping around the slippery ice like you were. At some point, he began pulling you along with his free hand, bringing them to one level. How was he holding on to the jagged, frost-covered brick without a rope? Without gloves? And able to carry both of your weights?

You felt lightheaded as you gripped onto him. At last the two of you reached the flattened top. The sounds of laughter and signing caused you to turn to the right. There were young people everywhere along the top of the wall. A few of them cheered and waved as they saw the two of you climb up.

You blinked and let herself be put down, concentrating on staying upright. You were taking labored breaths, and you turned to look at their surroundings, gasping when you saw the view. The snow-covered roofs were magnificently illuminated by the streetlights and the full moon, and misshapen clouds danced in the stars above you. You were looking in fascination when all of a sudden, a flask was thrust in front of her.

"Drink up," You turned to see Robb wipe at his chin, a clear liquid making his lips shine.

She took the bottle tentatively, gasping "What's in it?"

"Something tasty. Trust me."

"I don't think I should." You shook your head.

He rolled his eyes at that. "Live a little, princess. I already said I'll look out for you. If anything bad happens to you, the king will skin my ass-"

You gasped.

"- so you're safe."

"Why do you speak like that?" You admonished. "You are a prince!"

He gave you a condescending smirk, flashing a set of perfect white teeth. For some reason, you didn't understand. Some Northerners sharpened their canines. Robb was one of them. Had his teeth even fallen yet? You snapped out of your thoughts when he said. "Because it's fun to watch you squirm. Are you gonna have any or not?"

You eyed the container and shook your head, handing it back to him. He took anotyou couple of sips and howled at the moon, startling you again. His was followed by a series of howls from the teenagers on the rocks. They sat on a cold rock and looked over the clouds and mountains. There wasn't enough time to take in all the gorgeous scenery, from the hills to the planes to a big snowy mountain in the distance.

He draped one arm around your shoulders casually, which made you ragged, breathing even more difficult. Bringing his shaggy head close to hers, he squinted. "Do you know what you're looking at?"

"The wall," you supplied. From his close proximity, you could smell the metallic scent of the drink coming from his lips.

"Very good,” he nodded, the praise making a warmth spread in your chest. “The wall. so far away, and here we are. And all our problems. So insignificant." You felt a tug at one strand Of your hair and turned to see his hand pulling at it playfully.

You disregarded the gesture, which made your heart speed up and focused on his words instead. “What's beyond it? What's hiding?”

His look turned serious all of a sudden as he gazed on to the faraway intimidating pile of ice. Then he turned back to you, blue eyes staring in melancholy into your soul. “Nothing a princess should ever worry you thoughts with.”

She blinked up at him, and a shiver ran up your spine. You turned back and looked at the moon. It was marvelous that up close,you could clearly make out the craters and valleys. You wondered, not for the first time, how it came to be.

You were opening your mouth, about to follow up with more questions, but the climb had tired you out quicker than you had expected, and your vision blurred. You felt herself fall back, waiting to hit the ground, when your vision went completely dark.

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You woke up to a black sky filled with stars. Blinking, you realised your head was in someone's lap, and someone was gently stroking your cheek. You took a long breath, and your vision became clearer. The muffled sounds around you were clearing up as well. You realised whose lap your head was in and who was stroking your cheek. You got up with a start, making him move his hand. Grey eyes focused on you with curiosity. "I've never seen anyone pass out from speaking before. Good instinct on not drinking the ale."

Your brows furrowed. "The what? Nevermind. It's the air. It is hard to breathe up here."

You felt yourself going dizzy again. In Winterfell, you had never been this elevated before back in Kings Landing, but sitting on the walls of the castle itself… What were you thinking about again?

"Woah!" Rob caught and held you before you could fall once more, heat from his large, muscular body bringing you somewhat back to reality.

"Bring... me... down," you managed between gasps. You mustered the strength to add, "or my lungs will rupture, I will die, and my father will skin your… ass."

But it looked like the second part of your rant was unnecessary because he lifted you in his arms, said goodbye to his companions, who hooted and laughed. You caught some muttering about a "first timer" or “southerner”. They were laughing at you. The king's daughter. But you didn't have it in you to care as you struggled to stay awake.

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By the gods, this girl was fragile, Robb thought to himself while he carried the gasping, shivering little thing to the edge of the castle walls. He felt around with one hand to find his rope, always neatly tied at his belt. He'd thought to himself, could carry you all the way down and have a boring evening, or, he could excite you a bit. He chuckled to himself, knowing exactly which option he was going to choose. He lowered you to stand on your own and got his axe from his belt before tying it to his rope. He zeroed in on the tall oak in the courtyard. His target. He's practiced and hit with longer distances. He will be fine this time.

You shivered and stared as he did so.

Robb kissed the hilt of his axe, saying a quick prayer. "You may want to crouch."

You did so instantly, making a ball on the ground. Robb took aim and held the end of the rope, which wasn't tied to the axe, and sent the blade flying. It pulled and pulled on his rope until wedging itself sideways in the oak.

Robb grinned down and said, "You can get up now, princess."

You stood up slowly, your eyes widening at his shot. "How…?”

He grinned and tied the other end of the rope around himself, then offered you his hand.

You eyed his outstretched hand, then the rope, the tree, then the wall. "I think I'll just go down the steps-!" He pulled you against himself and jumped. Your lungs must have recovered because you screamed the whole way down. Robb used his weight to swing you both once around the oak before landing in the snow.

He looked down at you and saw a shudder when you glanced back at the top of the wall where you both were a minute ago.

"Gods," you gasped before turning to look up at him, your eyes reflecting the stars. "Thanks for not dropping me."

He raised a brow, implying that you did not need to say that.

♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♠︎♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤♤

That evening, his father told him something Robb already suspected: the king and queen had arranged a match between you and him.

[ronearoundblindly]

:peers out the window:

hey is that your bf sitting on the stoop?

(ok ignore that there are people in the background)

Ransom Drysdale x rich!reader from The Root of All Ransom

Warnings for--act shocked 😮--cursing and an argument (fluffy). WC short, maybe ~500

You've left dinner simmering on the stove to check for where your fiancé's gone off to.

He's outside, hunched over in the cold on the brick stairs leading to his wooded backyard.

Ransom rarely looks contemplative, but there he is, spinning his pinky ring and staring like he could melt it down by thought alone.

"Hugh," you call as you slink through the sliding door, "everything okay?"

Ran pulls a sharp breath through his nose and sits up.

"Fine."

That's a bit too dismissive for you.

"What's wrong with your hand? Does it hurt?"

With a shake of his head, he scrunches his nose and lift his palm higher.

"I think it's gonna feel weird." He spreads his fingers and pinches them back together. "Not gonna work side-by-side."

"What isn't?" you ask, sitting down beside him.

Ran just sighs and looks off into the trees. "A wedding band."

The man perpetually loathes change, and it's become your default to assure him very little ever will. Doing the average thing is boring. Ransom hates to be bored or boring. He always needs control over his appearance, too.

"If it bothers you that much then don't get one."

His head snaps up as you continue.

"It's just a ring, Hugh, and you know that if you ever cheat on me, I'll just have Dubois kill you," you shrug, a playful glint in your eye, hoping to make Ran laugh. "I'm sure he'd even do it for free."

Eyes angry and frowning, Ran scoffs. "He and I reached an agreement of mutual indifference...and I'm getting a fucking wedding ring."

Ok, so it's your turn to laugh instead.

"It's not funny. We're getting married, and I'm gonna have a fucking ring!" The bite in his tone is dead serious and utterly hilarious.

"Yeah, makes sense."

"Why would I not wear the goddamn ring?" he snaps. "You fucking better."

You have to tuck your lip into your teeth to stop smiling. "It sounded like you didn't want to."

His arms shoot out, chest broad and wide open, aghast. "You asked what I was thinking about, so I fucking told you."

"It's okay to be nervous, honey--"

"I'm not nervous," he barks.

"--because there's a lot going on right now. I get it--"

"I was just thinking--" he rips the pinky ring off his hand and shows you the chunky gold emblem "--I'd have to get this little piece of shit resized, for fuck's sake, not that I wouldn't want to wear a goddamn wedding ring! What the fuck, woman?"

You have to cover your mouth and snort, tearing up in amusement at his ire.

"Sorry," you wheeze, "you looked so serious. I thought--oh wow--I thought you--you're so dramatic." It ends on a cackle you can't hold back.

Ran's brow furrows.

"It's a practical concern."

You fail to compose yourself.

"I'm serious," he repeats. "It's a perfectly legitimate train of thou--why are you still laughing? Stop!"

You wipe your face to help relax your muscles and do as he asks.

"I know," you whisper. "I get it, Hugh. I do."

Of course, his eyes remain fixed on you suspiciously, especially when your hands cup his rosy cheeks.

"So sentimental," you coo.

"It was a normal idea I was thinking through, goddamn it."

You hiss and cluck your tongue. "Ouch, that must have hurt."

"Hardy fuckin' har," Ran gripes, swatting away your hands and shuffling to bully you into his lap, one of your feet landing on each of the steps, his arms wrapping your waist in a bruising hug.

You keep smiling at him while carding through his hair.

"Sentimental," you observe softly.

Ransom presses himself into your unscarved and bare throat, muttering "bitch" with the utmost appreciation.

You kiss the top of his head before burying your chilly fingers beneath the neck of his thick sweater.

"Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. I promise."

He grips you even tighter.

You two stay like that for a long time, which is fine, because dinner needs to simmer.

::very, very, very long evil laugh::

((I always feel like I should skip tags for really short stuff, ugh. IDK yet.))

[Main Masterlist; Ko-Fi]