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ominous-faechild · 10 months ago

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✦ MY WRITEBLR INTRODUCTION ✦

Hey! I've been here for a while and I've somehow amassed a shocking amount of followers and mutuals, so I figured it's finally time for me to force one of these out for you guys!

(And you know... a masterpost... when I get around to it. 😅😭)

About me:

✦ Barlowe (she/her)

✦ In my early 20s

✦ A writer of 10 years ✦ working on novels for 6 of 10!

✦ Less dedicated to—but still interested in!—drawing, animation, photography, and cinematography

✦ AuDHD and a grey lesbian (aka I'm leaning asexual) ✦ (my writing may or may not be a special interest)

✦ I have a whole bunch of other neurodivergencies besides AuDHD but I don't think y'all want me to get into all of them, haha. ✦ oh, and I say "haha" a lot. I apologize in advance.

✦ I think I'm hilarious and make jokes constantly

✦ I use a lot of emojis and tone tags to help convey tone. Please forgive me if it's annoying, it's to cope with my inability to communicate. /lh /hj

Masterlists:

✦ General ✦ Worldbuilding ✦ Sun and Shadow ✦ The Arcane Rifts ✦ Rising From the Ashes

(will be added eventually)

My Obsessions:

✦ Fantasy, horror, mystery, action, and exploration of realistic characters' reactions to the things they go through.

✦ Fairy tales, mythology, and folklore

✦ "Ye Olde History" and language

✦ DIVERSITY!!!

✦ Explorations of "evil-coded" characters and abilities--aka, not just showing them as evil. Show them as people (for characters) and tools (for abilities)!

✦ Traumatizing my characters just like I've been

✦ Traumatizing my characters in ways I haven't been!

✦ Learning!!!

✦ Talking way too much about the things I like to the point that I need to make a whole separate post to share it so it doesn't clutter my intro post... oh, hey, why is this linked?

✦ THE AESTHETIC!!!!

My Aesthetics:

Those who've been following me for a bit probably know that I adore "the aesthetic" and try to make my posts look nice... even if there's no real reason to besides that it gives me a little serotonin. Here's my favorite aesthetics!

✦ Starry; night sky ✦ Dawn / dusk ✦ Sunrise / sunset

✦ Nature! ✦ Forestry ✦ Cottagecore ✦ Rustic ✦ Ocean

✦ Literally all of them, please and thank you

My Writing:

✎ Sun and Shadow

Everything goes wrong for Freya Ula when she leaves her simple life as a fisherwoman to get engaged overseas. Her ship gets wrecked, she finds out her dad's been hiding secrets from her for her whole life, and, oh, she gets framed for a terrorist attack. Wait, WHAT!? After the city's greatest detective is attacked and disappears before she could consult with him, Frey has to enlist the help of his kid and her would-be fiancée to find out who framed her and clear her name. If only Crow was half as good a detective their dad was supposed to be.

Main characters: Freya, Crow, Daleira

✦ Urban-esque high fantasy ✦ purposely very tropey in places ✦ however, as always, I love throwing in curveballs. Wonder what's played straight and what I'm going to emotionally destroy you with. Definitely won't be Crow.

✦ Slow-burn romance between Frey and Crow ✦ immediate interest between Frey / Daleira ✦ oh, look, it's a love triangle? ✦ JOKE'S ON YOU, IT'LL ACTUALLY BE POLY ✦ it's just... going to take a while.

✦ Lesbians, lesbians everywhere ✦ though Crow is actually genderfluid and uses they/them for the first book ✦ despite barely having anything written I've already plotted a bit of book 2 ✦ I desperately need help.

✦ Unsurprisingly is a detective mystery with action mixed in ✦ I'm not typically a romance writer, I excel in action fantasy ✦ please have mercy on my soul

✦ Lots of magic, it's high fantasy + victorian aesthetic ✦ (aka "gaslamp fantasy" if you've heard of it) ✦ Frey's got sun-themed magic ✦ gasp, I know ✦ Crow's got shadow magic ✦ wonder why this sounds familiar ✦ Daleira's got, hm, well it's also shadowy! ✦ spoilers 😘

✦ About to be updated en-masse for a writing contest!!!

✎ The Arcane Rifts

Ghosts of past tragedies haunt the town of Kavo after decades of neglect. Fantastical creatures desiring nothing but fear and destruction hide in invisible tears in reality. Gangs and the police are at constant war with one another, there's a shapeshifting monster running amok, and the mayor's assistant suddenly wants a disabled orphan kicked to the streets. A year ago, Gene was discovered in the forest on the outskirts of town, half dead, amnesiac, and unable to even speak the local language. As he had nowhere to go, he was brought to the orphanage of Kavo for a place to stay. Now Caspar, the assistant of the mayor and the man who funds the orphanage, wants him kicked out. When Gene's left to the cold, cruel streets of Kavo on his own, he has to navigate through a town ravaged by decades of neglect and intrigue. Has the corruption truly been purged from the government? Why are godly forces active in Kavo, a small town in a backwater country? And most importantly--will Gene survive?

Main Characters: Gene, Tazin, Mislav, Ludmila, Rada ❧ Gene and Tazin for book 1 ❧ the other 3 start being MCs books 2 and 3 ❧ I guess Nikolai is also a MC tho

❧ Industrial-era rustic high fantasy ❧ mixes fantasy, action, horror, and mystery! ❧ oh helloooooo "ominous feychild" origin? ❧ very strong folkloric and traditional fantasy inspo ❧ except I mean "traditional fantasy" as in ❧ "we don't understand this magic stuff but we're used to it" ❧ not "travel the world adventures!"

❧ VERY involved story with strong themes of discrimination, poverty, exploitation, trauma, and the recovery from trauma ❧ each main and secondary character is one flavor of discriminated against or another in-universe ❧ obviously I try to write it respectfully, but you can't really write bigots being bigots "respectfully"

❧ Has two "main plots" going on simultaneously; technically three ❧ I periodically give the reader updated "character guides" ❧ like they get more recent plot info added kinda like a red-string board to keep you, the audience, up-to-date with info you might've otherwise missed ❧ I think it's really cool and people seem to enjoy it ❧ I know it seems like a lot but please give it a chance

❧ I've literally plotted out pretty much the entirety of the first and second books, and know most of how book 3 will go, yet there's very little out for the current version of the story ❧ part of that is because I'm paused on the 3rd draft

❧ There's lots of timeskips throughout the first two books, but they're mostly to age up the protagonists! Gene, the MC, starts the series at 7. I promise it's not a kid's story though.

❧ The "secondary MC", Nikolai, is the police chief investigating magical stuff going on at the same time. They tie in with the main story involving Gene, though won't appear to for a long while.

❧ The "golden child" series I love more than SaS; however it's on hiatus because I promised people to work on SaS first and SaS is more popular as a romance-focused story. :/ ❧ I would never be salty about that.

Taglist:

For everything: @honeybewrites @the-golden-comet @illarian-rambling @ashirisu @urnumber1star

@the-letterbox-archives @48lexr @aalinaaaaaa @thecomfywriter @an-indecisive-nerd

@seastarblue @rae-butter

For Worldbuilding: @paeliae-occasionally @pluppsauthor @thelovelymachinery

For the Existentials: N/A

For the Avatars: @thelovelymachinery

For Sun and Shadow: @mysticstarlightduck @paeliae-occasionally

For the Arcane Rifts: @paeliae-occasionally

For Rising From the Ashes: N/A

For the Storm Avatars: N/A

For the Order Avatars: @thelovelymachinery

For the Magic Avatars: N/A

For the Fire Avatars: N/A

For the Water Avatars: N/A

To be tagged in tag games: @honeybewrites @aalinaaaaaa

Ask and ye shall be added

Divider by @cafekitsune

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petew21-blog · 7 months ago

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The False King in the North

The Red wedding, where the Boltons and Freys murdered their guests left the North without a true king. The Lannisters planned to set Roose Bolton as the new Warden of the North. But most of the houses in the north were loyal to the Starks. This created an issue that prevented Roose to expand his territory. But his bastard, Ramsay Snow, had other plans. A plan, if successful, Roose would definitely benefit from. Only if Ramsay succeeds.

Meanwhile in the Dreadfort

Theon Greyjoy was tied to the Bolton cross again. It was a routine that Ramsay had. Torture his victims. He was cruel to anything alive. But mostly to the ones that prevented him from something. Theon held Winterfell for a while, but thanks to the betrayal of his men, Ramsay could now own Theon. And having Theon was definitely going to be a great leverage in future deals. Especially since Ramsay already changed him into something else. Theon was now Reek. A loyal servant to Ramsay. Afraid of being tortured again, always loyal and serving his master.

Ramsay: "Reek!“

Theon: LYes, master?“

Ramsay: "Have you heard already about the great wedding? Your friend, Robb Stark lost his head during the celebrations, they say“ Ramsay laughed out loud and watched Theon’s unknowing face.

Ramsay: "Oh, right. You still don’t get it. Your friend, Rob bis dead. Along with the rest of the Starks. You’re free Theon! What do you say?!“

Theon wanted to cry. He loved Robb as his brother. He loved every Stark child as their sibling. But now it was his survival or death. Ramsay called him by his own name. If he would respond to it, he would be tortured again.

Theon: "I am Reek, Master. I am your servant.“

Ramsay: "Good. Since we got that out of the way, there is a great task for you. Me and my father have a problem with reclaiming the north. Some of the houses are, let’s say not understanding our views. We need someone to go persuade them. And I think you are the best man for the job.“

Roose entered the hall. "Are you mad? This THING won’t win us anything.“

Ramsay: "Did you bring his head? Robb’s?“

Roose:“Yes, but do what you must and then we have to send it to Joffrey to Kings Landing. And show HIM to me after you finish.“

Ramsay turned to Theon and smiled while pulling Robb’s head by the hair. He set the head on the table facing Theon. Theon looked away in tears.

Ramsay: “Reek, say hi to your new face. Yes, this will be your new face. At least it won’t be anyone unknown to you. Haha. You’ll be my own Robb Stark. You will persuade all the other families to give up. Understood?“

It hurt Theon to look at Robb’s dead head. His friend was dead. His head right in front of him. And the monster that tormented him wanted to… what was he going to do? Stitch Robb’s face on his own?

Ramsay:“Reeek. I asked you a question. Did you understand?“

Theon:“Yes… master.“

Ramsay laughed and clapped his hands. „Good, now, let’s get your face prepped. We have some other people coming over and we have to be ready.“

Theon screamed as the sharp knife cut through his skin. He felt the blood pouring from his face. He saw some other people arriving to the room. They looked like a group of charlatans. Theon felt as Ramsay pulled on the remaining piece of skin on his face. Theon felt light headed. And everything suddenly turned black.

Ramsay:“Don’t faint, Reek. We’re not done y…“

Theon woke up in bed. In bed for the first time in months. He opened his eyes to see a girl servant, washing his face. He moved away from her

Servant:“I am sorry, sir. I was ordered to take care of your wounds“

Theon:“I am no a sir. I am Reek.“

Servant:“No, sir. You are…“

Ramsay entered the room with a loud shouting: „Enough! Leave our honourable guest. We have a lot to talk about.“

The servant left the room and Ramsay invited Roose to enter as well. Roose:“Ramsay! We were supposed to send the head to the Kings Landing!“

Ramsay:“Haven’t you heard? They have a king‘s murder to worry about. They won’t care about any bloody head. I made a better use of it.“

Roose got closer to Theon. "I must say you and the others have done a magnificent job. It’s like if he was alive.“

Ramsay:“Thank you father. I believe we are going to use Reek for our benefits wisely.“

Roose left the room and Ramsay turned to Reek:“I suggest you get it over with and go look at yourself in the mirror. They used a bit of magic, so there might be some getting used to. Hahaha“He left with his creepy laugh, locking the door behind him.

Theon didn’t understand what was happening. He got up to look in the mirror like Ramsay told him. A wave of cold washed over Theon as he saw his reflection. It wasn’t his anymore. Instead of his old face, there was now Robb. Ramsay cut off Theon’s face and replaced it with Robb’s. But there must have been something else in the play, as Theon got closer, he noticed other parts of his body being different. There were some minor cut wounds, but they almost healed by now.

Theon took his hand to his face and started crying. He was mourning his brother and now he will spend the rest of his life looking back at him in the mirror.

Ramsay came back the second day and took Theon outside. „We have some important explaining to do, Reek. Even with your new face, you are still Reek. You are only loyal to me, you listen to only my orders. Understood?“

Theon:“Yes, master.“

Ramsay:“I order you to pretend to be Robb Stark. You will go persuade with me your old vassals. Only when the two of us are alone, you will respond to Reek. Whenever we will be with other men, you will respond to Robb. Understood?“

Theon:“Yes, master.“

Ramsay:“And after you convince them, you will declare ME the true ruler of the north. Not my father. Understood?“

Theon was silent for a while. Declaring Ramsay would be the ultimate betrayal to his home, to Ned Stark, to Robb. He has to avenge them

Ramsay:“Understood?!?“

Theon:“Yes, master.“ He responded now more confident than before, ready to get back his old home. He wasn’t there to save Robb, but he can pretend to be him and win his old home back from the usurpers.

Another anonymous request from inbox

Set in Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire: After the red wedding, house Bolton uses some sort of magic to mind control Theon and transform him into Robb Stark. They make him show himself and have him declare the Boltons the true rulers of the north.

#male transformation #transformation #face swap #face transformation #game of thrones fanfiction #robb stark #theon greyjoy #ramsay snow

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pocket-ozwynn · 1 year ago

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Golden Retriever Jock Gf and Flustered Nerdy Bf, my beloveds ❤️💜

Commission by the wonderful @entomolog-t, thank you for taking such good care of them 🥺 you captured all the best parts of Freyja and Alice, and the new setting I’m coming up for them. Everything about this is so perfect, I can’t stand it.

There’s SO much I could gush about with this. Y’all, Ent is a DELIGHT to work with—she’s thoughtful, thorough, and considerate. I still am finding details about this that I love—teeny little Easter Eggs that make me gasp and go ‘OH WAIT HOW DID I NOT NOTICE THAT BEFORE?!?’ I would highly recommend commissioning her if you ever have the chance.

Thank you again Ent!

Also, enjoy a close-up of this flustered fool. I love the little “surprise lines” coming off his shoulders as he looks up and see her looking at him. He gets so comfortable around Frey, I think he forgets she’s a giant sometimes 💀

#g/t #giant/tiny #ogtoc freyja #ogtoc alice #wholesome giantess #sfw g/t #g/t art #Herbeau #sfw giant/tiny

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thunderberryz · 1 year ago

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So wait a second...

In official Rune Factory 4 lore, Ventuswill was supposed to die many, many centuries ago. It's uncertain how many, but it's generally accepted that Leon likely became the first Guardian around 1000 years ago. The big thing is that, in theory, Ventuswill's natural lifespan could have been much longer with no need for Guardians or Rune Spheres, but she was born in a land where the runes were beginning to die out and was thus weak. The Earthmates creating the Rune Spheres was as much about restoring runes to the land as it was saving Ventuswill because while the world can go on without Ventuswill, the world cannot go on without runes. Without runes, the land becomes barren, crops won't grow, and all life eventually ends.

Now, I don't know much about Rune Factory 2 since I haven't actually played it (and anyone who has is free to correct me on the below points), but from what I've read online in terms of the lore, Fiersome's apocalypse would have happened a thousand years ago had the ancient Earthmates not placed their seal on him--roughly when Ventuswill was originally supposed to expire. And every thousand years, the seal on him has to be renewed; if not, the world is destined to be destroyed in Fiersome's raging apocalyptic hellfire, after which Terrable will awaken and restore life to the charred landscape at the cost of eliminating whatever remaining life has survived--in other words, a total rebirth of the planet.

Between the close timing of these two past events--the point that Ventuswill's life was originally supposed to end and the point when the seal was placed on Fiersome--and the fact they were to occur when the world's runes were starting to dry up, the Earthmates both past and present have been staving off the inevitable End of the World for centuries. The world, as we know it, could have been destroyed a thousand years ago as it was supposed to, but the Earthmates said "Nope! It's too nice to let it all die!" and have done everything they can to extend its lifespan.

And that's when we get to Rune Factory 5 and an incredibly dark statement from the main antagonist, Gideon. According to Gideon, Alice/Ares is the last known Earthmate--not the last, but there are so few Earthmates that if there are any others left, they're most likely in hiding and are on their way to becoming an extinct species. Now, Ventuswill's longevity has been ensured thanks to the actions of Lest/Frey during RF4 and she'll probably still be munching on pancakes in 1000 years, but if the Earthmates wind up going extinct, there's no way to restore Fiersome's seal because only Earthmates are capable of renewing the magic used to keep him locked up. And Fiersome is not the only godlike creature capable of causing the world's inevitable destruction; Tides of Destiny gave us the Legendary Golem, whose cataclysmic battle with the Native Dragons led to the creation of the current world, and RF5's potential apocalypse was that of the Fathomless Dread, an eldritch abomination that literally had to be sealed in another dimension to prevent it from destroying the world.

The Rune Factory world has brushed time and time again with total annihilation and the only reason it has managed to avoid catastrophe was because there was an Earthmate around to stop it. What happens when there are no longer any Earthmates to stop the end of all? Or is it possible that the Earthmates are going to experience a revival of some sort? Besides a castle-esque design, the logo for Rune Factory 6 does suspiciously feature a seraph/halo motif, after all...

#rune factory #rune factory 2 #rune factory 4 #rune factory 5 #rf #rf2 #rf4 #rf5 #spoilers

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missingmayuri · 29 days ago

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KurotsuchiWeek2025 Day 5: Ashisogi Jizo

A butterfly cries for help.

Seeing living Zanpokuto spirits wandering around wasn't something you were used to. From the most powerful to the most tame, passing by any of these beings made you recoil in fear.

Many could kill you in a second if they wanted and that thought was terrifying to you, making sure to keep your distance despite most of the spirits seeming to be dependant at present.

Once broken from the control of Muramasa the spirits seemed to regain loyalty to their owners, exhibiting their unique and quirky personalities in some cases.

Ashisogi Jizo was one of those beings. She seemed rather timid, squeeking as a form of communication unless angered or teased.

It was at that point she would take on her original bankai form, the large and overbearing caterpillar baby.

You had seen the spirit freely gliding through the soul society, much more free from her master then others like her. Not that she feared him at all, her actions more inquisitive and thoughtful. She wanted to see everything, take it all in and with her inability to communicate was just aloud to wander on her own.

You recalled back to a situation a few days prior, having come across Jizo on a walk through the barracks. She seemed to be asking for food but due to her lack of voice and communication skills her attempts fell flat, leaving you to kindly come over and assist her.

You would never forget her large snow white eyes, how she flew in the air with twirling motions with more grace then the butterfly she partially took form of.

The smile she gave you as thanks was the most precious thing in the universe and you wondered how such a pure being was connected to someone like Captain Kurotsuchi.

The spirit of a Zanpokuto was a part of the user's being, some say the deepest and most hidden part of their soul, yours being that of a large white and black moth creature. It spooked you at first, falling over and twisting your leg as the spirit towered over you with large black eyes.

Yet in your heart you knew you were safe, not a tremble or a shake, shock being at only thing to possess you at the time. The creature felt comforting, like family and you assumed it was the same for every soul reaper despite if they achieved bankai or not.

You were currently walking through the divisions for an afternoon stroll, having left your spirit, KuraiGa, in your private chambers. It slumbered during the day, as you would expect it to so you decided to find a place to break for lunch in the meantime, basking in the current quiet if the afterlife around you.

The air was crisp and clean with a baby blue sky to match, surroundings quiet like it was early morn or break of day.

Most reapers had reclaimed their sword spirits and begun to get to know them more on a personal level, leaving for the town nearby for drinks and socialising opportunities, the less populated areas of the Soul Society now seeming more liminal in comparison to their usual bustling energy.

From the corner of your eye you spot a flash of yellow and blue, Ashisogi Jizo hovering quietly behind. She seemed lost or disoriented, eyes darting from the papers in her hands to the immediate area she was in.

Her sqeeks seemed troubled, shattering your heart like it was glass.

"Jizo? Is everything OK?"

The spirit suddenly makes a beline for you, grabbing your wrist in her petite hands and pulling you away in an attempt to follow her, her actions being futile since you didn't move an inch.

You flash her a kind smile, looking into those void like white eyes.

"Jizo, did something happen?"

The papers are quickly shoved into your hand, the orchestra of squeeking getting faster and more erratic.

You couldn't believe what you were reading, a note from Captain Kurotsuchi. It was seemingly covered in a faint dusting of blood, seeing a few crimson fingerprints among the frey.

Captain Mayuri Kurotsuchi had been harmed by a Hollow subject, needing assistance since Lieutenant Kurotsuchi was at her association meeting at this time.

You stand to your feet, heart in your throat. Who knew how long Ashisogi Jizo had been wandering looking for help due to the lack of presence in the Soul Society at present. It could have been hours.

Your mouth ran more dry then sand, unable to swollow.

Could he already be..?

You had no time to think, acting should be your top priority. You grab Jizo's miniature hands in yours, shaking from the panic of potentially losing a valued member of your forces. A Soul Society without the Captain was one that was doomed to fail eventually, nobody able to even replicate a fraction of the work he did on the daily.

He was indeed a genius, one you couldn't afford to lose.

"Can you take me to him Jizo?"

With a determined salute you are forced to step back as a large shadow begins to loom over you with an otherworldly presence. The being in front of your eyes transforming into her much larger and slightly quicker form.

Before you stood the bankai, intimidating to be sure. You feared for your life, knowing as well as any reaper what she was capable of. The tales of her and Captain Kurotsuchi's fights were legendary, looking at your arm and expecting to see a purple hue cover your skin from the poison gas of legend that had downed many a foe. Alas no poison spewed fourth, seemingly able to control when she distributed it.

She was clever, much like the man who controlled her, able to know when she was in danger or not all by herself. It was truly a once in a lifetime opportunity, to see a passive bankai up close and personal.

It was a spectical and a visual feast for the eyes, being so close to a now gentle giant.

You felt relieved, putting a hand on your chest as you feel your breath begin to regulate itself once again, feeling Jizo pick you up in her now much larger palm. It was now twice your size, finding it hard to think that mere moments ago you easily out sized her.

You cling onto her back tightly as she begins to move, Jizo pushing through any obstacle in her way with a distorted and terrifying cry. It almost sounded like layers, cries from many a tortured soul. It tugged at your heart strings, wondering if perhaps this particular bankai was a collaboration of multiple lost souls, all fighting together to protect something they cared about.

Or perhaps someone.

As the wind blew past at speeds unmatched you soon found yourself stopping as quickly as you started, hair windswept and messy with tear filled eyes from the high winds thrust upon them.

You reach a smaller more private building in the 12th division, finally hopping down from Jizo, watching her return to a more approachable and safer state that allowed her to enter the building and following her lead into a viel of darkness that coated the halls.

She calls out, squeeks long, desperate and echoing through each room. Perhaps Jizo was calling out to her master, trying to gauge his state from a simple response. Perhaps she felt something within her own soul, being part of the Captain she would know if something was amiss after all.

Maybe that's what she was feeling.

It felt like the blind leading the blind, you unaware and Jizo unsure. You wanted to believe it was all OK, knowing the man you sought out was as smart and cunning as a fox.

He probably had a plan and would end up resenting any help you could provide, not wanting to be seen at his lowest and admit to his faults.

You had to see he was OK though, if not for him then for the distraught Zanpokuto spirit in front of you.

With a sudden stop you see Jizo run into a nearby room, light dim from the inside and sorrowful sqeeking filling your ears.

You enter slowly after, seeing her clinging to a dishevelled and tired looking Mayuri Kurotsuchi. There appeared to be a deep gash across his tanned chest, realising quickly that he hadn't bothered to paint himself today. He probably planned to spend the day in his lab, tinkering away with his subjects and experiments.

Nobody else would dress if they didn't have to see others so why should he be any different?

His eyes seemed cold and distant, sharp breathes through rows of straight golden teeth.

"What...took you?"

All the spirit could do was hug her master, him patting the top of her soft blue fuzz in response. His mouth had small curls of a smile, not large enough to recognise from a distance but you however were close enough to see.

"I have... Already tended to my wounds. Help is not required"

"Sir, your chest looks..."

He raises his hand, stopping whatever you had to say and cutting your speech short. He pulls Jizo over his chest, watching her nuzzle her face into his bruised and bloody skin.

"Ashisogi Jizo is more then capable of tending to me from here. Honestly she IS my dau-...."

He stopped in his tracks, unable to finish. His eyes turned away from you, smirk turning to scowl as he wrapped Jizo in what was left of his tattered and worn uniform.

You had never been more alert hearing such words before, waiting with baited breath in case he began to speak once more.

Silence settled around you, signalling there was nothing more to say and your chest began to feel as if a Hollow laid upon it.

You found it hard to breathe after your Captain's stumble over his words, most likely slightly delirious from blood loss.

Was he about to say daughter?

Was this the reason she couldn't speak well, was so inquisitive?

Perhaps she actually was still only a young child.

You knew the Captain had precursers to Lieutenant Kurotsuchi, wondering if Jizo happened to be the souls of every attempt that came before.

Perhaps they still lived on, still able to be with their father as some form of amalgamation. A single body with six souls within.

Still living and growing, still evolving.

Captain Kurotsuchi had always made a point of evolution being the source to all life.

Humans did it.

Reapers did it.

He did it.

His Zanpokuto did.

He always strived to become better and evolve, which you could tell was the case from the previous few years.

Ashisogi Jizo was the reminder of that mantra, always evolving with him. Much like a father would change as his daughter grew older, becoming proud of her.

He was always proud of his Zanpokuto and now you understood why, being more then one in the same but related by a bond deeper then even the soul.

As the saying goes, blood is thicker then water.

Mayuri Kurotsuchi had far more layers then others or perhaps even he himself knew, a new sense of pride blossoming within you like a flower in the spring. You were proud to have a leader with such a rich and varied history, one filled with both ups and downs, one unlike any others.

You shake your head slightly, having been too deep into your thoughts and coming back to reality to notice the Captain now asleep in his chair in front of you, Jizo softly snoring alongside him while being held softly by the taller reaper behind her.

Smiling softly you cover the two of them in a nearby purple woolen blanket. You would watch over them for now, hoping Captain Kurotsuchi's condition didn't take a turn.

Sometimes even a father needs some help.

#bleach #mayuri kurotsuchi #bleach mayuri #kurotsuchi mayuri #kurotsuchiweek2025 #missfics

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hphm-jeniferltheman · 1 year ago

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𝔸 𝕎𝕚𝕫𝕒𝕣𝕕 𝕨𝕙𝕠𝕤𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕤𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕔𝕙 𝕠𝕗 𝕥𝕣𝕦𝕥𝕙 𝕓𝕦𝕥 𝕙𝕖 𝕚𝕤 𝕗𝕚𝕝𝕝𝕖𝕕 𝕨𝕚𝕥𝕙 𝕤𝕖𝕔𝕣𝕖𝕔𝕪.

𝐼𝒹𝑒𝓃𝓉𝒾𝓉𝓎

Name: Hiwaga Copper

( hiwaga meaning: magic or mystery)

Nickname: Hiwa, Waga, Higawa, Chicken, Coward

Birth date: June 29, 1997

Blood Status: Half-Blood

Ethnicity: Half- American, Half- Filipino

Alignment: ...Neutral Evil

Personality Type: ENFJ

𝒜𝓅𝓅𝑒𝒶𝓇𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒

Always gets confused as a girl who wears red in slytherin

Height: 160 cm (year 1-2) to 175 cm (year 5)

Weight: 60 kg

Eyes: Reddish Brown with a hint of Blue ( his eyes glows to blue when casting heavy magic/curse)

Hair: Originally Black dyed in Red, the black hair starts to grow in time, Long Hair in a Half bun (standard look)

Skin Tone: Tan

Body Modifications: he looks thin, short at first and has long hair making him look like he has a body of a girl

𝒯𝒽𝑒 𝑀𝒶𝑔𝑒

A wizard who barely seen using magic. well there is a reason for that

Hogwarts House: Slytherin

1st Wand: Unyielding 9 in. Cypress Wood with Unicorn

Tail Hair Core

2nd Wand: ??

Quidditch Position: Seeker

Club: Dance and Garden Club

Boggart Form: Clown

Riddikulus Form: Clown suffering with pranks ( the suffering gives him joy for some reason pls forgive him)

Amortentia: Cranberry

Patronus: Swarm of Butterflies

Patronus Memory: Her Mother and Father dancing

Favorite Spells: Concealment Charms

Least Favorite: Dark Magic, Charms, mostly everything ( he dislike magic)

Misc Magical Abilities: Legilimency and Retrocognition

𝒫𝑒𝓇𝓈𝑜𝓃𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓉𝓎

He appears to be weak, coward and harmless, but don't be fooled. He is a slytherin for a reason

Bad traits: Distrustful, Mischievous, Deceptive, Liar, Secretive, Observant, Agent of Chaos, Manipulative, Overthinks too much (when it comes to people he cares getting hurt)

Good traits: Helpful, Hardworking, Approachable, Cautious, Skilled at reading people and understanding their vulnerabilities

Hobbies: Gardening, Dancing, Photography, Cross dressing

Likes:Gardening, Sweets, Family, Dancing, Chaos in Hogwarts, Photography, Muggle way to do things, Privacy, Tricking Others

Dislikes: His magic, Witches and Wizards, Duels, Being Surprised, Emotionally Attached,Bad luck, Preying on his secrets, Transportation

Relationships

Family:

Father: Ben Copper

He has a love-hate relationship with his father for he is always away most of his childhood due to working abroad. Ben kept it a secret that his work is related to magic making Hiwaga not learn that wizarding world exist until his magic awakened. One of the reason Hiwaga has bad first impression of magic

Mother: ???

Some Muggle lady. He loves his mother so much that he despises others prying about the details of her mother. He is scared of the idea of what would the evil witch/wizard would do to her once they know her. Did I mention Hiwaga overthinks too much?

Little Brother: Lua Copper

Hiwaga also keeps it a secret that he has a little Brother. He doesn't have any magic and is a muggle. Lua was a toddler when Hiwaga enrolled in Hogwarts. But some of his friends knew when they visited to his house. He has no control on this one because it was his mother who invited them and yet the friends still don't know the name of Hiwaga's mother lol.

Companions:

Not sure to use the term "friends" because Hiwaga is just using them... at first

Cassandra

It was Cassandra who Hiwaga first met at hogwarts instead of Ivy. At first he even become one of Cassandra's sorta henchman with the Frey twins. Hiwaga seems like a pushover where Cassandra keeps ordering him around but Hiwaga is actually the one using her as a shield when something bad happens and to make him look weak and harmless by others, which is a success. Though they bond with their interest in plants.

Frey twins

The Frey twins dislike Hiwaga being one that Cassandra trust because they thought of him as weak, coward and probably useless. Thanks to this, Hiwaga find them easy to control to create chaos and the twins are easy to blame for it. But he keeps in good terms with them for this

Ivy and Daniel

Hiwaga started with the group of Cassandra and after he helped on finding ivy, he started to hang out with Ivy and Daniel and become his "friends". Hiwaga is interested of the two's secret and wanted to get involved with it. Also he felt that he can use the two for potions and charms and perhaps in searching of their secrets, he will discover something related to his secret as well. The longer Hiwaga spends more time with them, his negative perspective of witch and wizards changes.

Robin and Kevin

Hiwaga finds it fun and interesting of the two's relationship. Despite Hiwaga disliking the idea of romance on himself, he is very invested to the slow progress of the romance of the two and sometimes, he secretly creates a scenario for the two to have a progress on their relationship.

Amber Khanna and Duncan Snyde ( My HPMA OC )

persistent people who thinks knows Hiwaga's secret and they probably could help him. But Hiwaga doesnt trust them at first and is being stubborn by letting them clean up his evil doings.

Others

💥Troublemaker Buddies : Thomas (@tojiriki ), Rowan Lee (@raccoon-lair ), wren and grey @/tracynbutters_ and @/hazeldeznut ) 🤔Friends with Suspiciousness: Ryan Winger (@mina1007 ), Carlyn Jade Khanna (@krinkitori ) 🧑‍🤝‍🧑Probably half sibling : Rowan Cahill (@redhairedgryffindor ) 🫂Can't-afford-to-get-them-involved-in- his- trouble Friends: Nadia Winger(probably theres more) ( @mina1007 ), Lucy Davis (@/chessy.ev), Brian Haywood ( @catohphm ), Asha Khanna (@krinkitori ), Simona Aaron ( @/hohoyayaeiei), Marta Waltsher ( @ themilkshanghai)

<< Hiwaga is still open to form new relationship with other OCs, it can be good😇 or evil 😈>>

More info/ Background (?)

His magic awakened experience went horrible that leads to cursing himself and his mother. As a kid who doesnt know magic at first, he blames himself so much that after he learns about magic from his dad, he become scared of it. But he turn his scared to hatred of magic when he enrolled in hogwarts.

His magic most of the time is destructive that sometimes hurt others unintentionally in a way he doesn't like and he find it difficult to control it except if his intention is to hurt them.

He dislike witch and wizards for they can use magic that benefited them and yet hide it from the muggles. He finds it selfish and doesn't trust them

He didn't plan to enroll at hogwarts at first, but he started seeing vision of the past. A memory that seems to not exist but can help him to stop the curse he put to himself and to his mother.

His dislike of wizarding world makes him find joy to see it in chaos.

Though in time with spending more with other witches and wizards, he will change his perspective and sees his evil act should be minimized so it won't affect to people he slowly cares about.

When he cursed himself, some of his hair turned into blue. To avoid remembering it, he dyed his hair red and wore a glasses.

He always got candies in his pockets

He likes helping or assisting others. It is his way to observe people or to gather information

Hiwaga's love for dancing is influenced when he saw his parents dancing in their living room when he was young

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~🦋~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This will still be updated soon but for now thats all for him

¯\_( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)_/¯

#hpma #magic awakened #harry potter magic awakened #hpma fanart #hpma oc #hpma original character #hpma mc #magic awakened fanart #slytherin #hp magic awakened #hiwaga copper

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gilgamish · 10 days ago

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WIP Wednesday

tagged by @dirty-bosmer and @saltymaplesyrup :D! thank you friends <3

tagging: @kookaburra1701, @moriche, @throughtrialbyfire, and along with the rest of my mutuals :D!

today on the menu: part of mercer frey's realization that that he has to eliminate his younger counterpart in order to survive + with a side of felix being incredibly a little manipulative

On a blustery winter’s morning, the ice had frozen the city canals a meter thick, and its putrescence was contained by the bitter cold and the dirty ice waned at midday but waxed at night to collect the new refuse that had fallen in by. It was on this ice, dotted and streaked with all manner of waste that Riften’s several thousand inhabitants produced, that formed the quickest path for a Guild informant to climb from Mistveil Keep down into the Ratway, and down into the Ragged Flagon in record time. Once there, breathless and freezing, they told the Guildmaster, the Guild Second, and Guild Third the news: Sarthis Idren, a prominent figure in the city’s skooma trade, was no more. This was not surprising, but the fact that it had been Mjoll the Lionness to eliminate him, on the other hand, was.

They never believed she would be capable, and not for any lack of strength or skill. Quite the contrary. That battering ram of a woman had put an end to more than a few of the Guild’s most promising pickpockets, cat burglars, and other enforcers. The Lioness had more than the strength and grit she needed to dispense her own personal brand of justice, but still she was limited. Her knowledge of the Guild was almost laughable, if her finding out about the little shortcut in the graveyard didn’t give them all the occasional nightmare. This blindside, Mercer felt safe to assume, extended to the rest of Riften’s criminal underbelly. Mjoll could wear herself out plucking all the weeds in the damn valley if she wanted, but she’d never get to the roots.

That was, until now. Someone had told her where Idren’s little safehouse was. As much as Mercer wanted to say it was just some revenging addict who told her, he didn’t believe that very much. Idren was a paranoid rat bastard like the rest of them, never staying in one location for long. He had multiple haunts and snuck between them at seemingly random, much to chagrin of the Riften guard and Maven Black-Briar herself— She’d been wanting to get rid of Idren ever since he’d refused to march on her orders, but Mjoll would never stoop to work for Maven. Which meant, someone else had told Mjoll exactly when Idren would be at that safehouse, along with everything else she needed to know in order to be successful in her task.

Someone, whom Mercer suspected, was in the Guild, and looking between his Guild scattered around him at the bar, his gaze centered upon one: Allectus, who was currently drinking, cutting up, and cursing with the rest of the Guild. Thrynn and Sapphire were in his periphery, always close enough to keep a close eye on him and mostly Imayn, who had an arm thrown across the back of Felix’s chair. Felix didn’t look twice when the assassin refilled his cup, and he seemed utterly oblivious to the smiles the mer was throwing his way. Across from him, there was Cyrnic and Vex. All of them were spellbound Vex recounted her most recent heist.

The scene all felt so far and away from the day Brynjolf had dragged that raggedy, lost priest off the streets and brought him down here, much to the chagrin of his own Guild mates. Some hadn’t hesitated in placing bets that he wouldn’t last a fortnight. Others, more shrewd, elected to find some way of eliminating the new competition by catching him in a dark corner, and to help everyone, Mercer had thrown the worst possible job he could at Allectus, by sending him to Goldenglow. When those two weeks had gone by and with Felix caught in Maven’s good graces, Delvin Mallory, their master of shadows, had sat in the corner, chuckling to himself as he swept in his winnings from the rest of the Guild. ‘Oh, he’s a clever one, alright,’ he’d say before biting down on a septim. ‘Just like ol’ Gallus.’

Oh, yes, just like ol’ Gallus, Mercer repeated sardonically to himself, but it was getting harder and harder to ignore the comparison. Because without spilling a drop of blood or ever threatening to do so, Allectus was wresting the Guild and their benefactor, Maven, out from underneath him, and it would only take one more dinner or two with Maven before she leaned in and whispered into Felix’s ear; and then on some cold night before the year was out, Mercer would hear a loud knock on his front door. On the other side, would it be the Lioness, having been fed the perfect stream of heart-wrenching lies from Felix, or would it be Maul, acting on Maven’s orders to remove him? Did it even matter?

#wip wednesday #mercer frey #thieves guild #tes fic #yeah delvin was really the only one who went 'ayep that's my lad. putting my money on him' and man did that pay off lol #was it a gamble? perhaps. perhapsn't.

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asa-do-your-thing · 1 year ago

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The rainbow trout

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"But they will expect…" You started again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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