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bumblesimagines · 5 days

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The Wolf's Guard

Request: Yes or No

Summary: The love between a wolf and their darling is unbreakable, even if that darling is a Bolton.

Pronouns: He/Him/His, M!Reader

~~~

If the Starks were known for anything, it was their honor, duty, and family values. Everyone in all of Westeros knew it, from the poor to the rest of the Great Houses, as many had bore witness to those traits at play. The wolves of the north, the pack that'd once been called Kings, had bent the knee willingly during Aegon's Conquest and from then on, were known as Wardens of the North.

The glorious House Stark of Winterfell. Robb still vividly remembered the days in which he and his bastard brother, Jon Snow, were taught the history of their ancestors. Brandon the Boisterous, Cregan Stark, Rodwell Stark, Rickard Stark... Robb knew their names well, knew the significance of their importance to his bloodline. They were his ancestors, warriors with wolf's blood coursing through their veins, and blood that ran through his. Just like them, Robb is heir to Winterfell, the firstborn son of Lord Eddard Stark and Lady Catelyn Stark. And while Robb's heart valued honor, duty, and family over all else, there were times when he wished he hadn't been born first.

The first time he took his mind off his duty as heir (a duty everyone constantly reminded him of every waking moment) was when Roose Bolton brought his second-born son, (Y/N) Bolton, to Winterfell when they were children to become a ward under Eddard Stark. He'd heard about the stories and rumors surrounding the family and their ancestral home, the Dreadfort. Their history was as lengthy as the Starks, with their own ancestors having been once called the Red Kings. While Starks were honorable, Boltons were cruel, cunning, and dishonorable with a tradition of flaying their enemies that they were forced to give up upon being bannermen for the Starks. However, there were rumors they still flayed their prisoners after days and weeks of torture.

Robb and Jon exchanged whispers while their father spoke with Roose Bolton, an unremarkably ordinary-looking man despite the eerie aura that surrounded him and his sons. His eyes were striking, a color so pale and odd that they made shivers run down the spines of the two boys when he looked in their direction. But the prickle of uneasiness that poked at Robb vanished when (Y/N) looked toward him. Jon immediately ducked behind the barrel they'd chosen to hide behind but Robb held his gaze and was rewarded with a grin.

"Robb," His father had called out, "Come."

Robb immediately obeyed, jumping out from behind the barrel and striding over to his brother. At the age of seven, Robb knew his place as heir very well so he made every attempt at showing everyone the manners and way of nobles he'd been taught. Ned placed a comforting hand over his shoulder and smiled down at his son. "Why don't you show (Y/N) around Winterfell, Robb? His father and I have much to discuss."

"Yes, Father." Robb nodded, his auburn curls bouncing off his forehead. Domeric Bolton, eldest son of Roose and heir to the Dreadfort, similarly set his hand over his younger brother's shoulder. (Y/N) peered up at his father and then at his brother, lingering even after Roose gave him an approving nod.

"Go on," Domeric murmured gently and (Y/N) looked back at Robb with a growing smile.

Robb spent the rest of the day showing (Y/N) around Winterfell, his chest puffing out with pride each time (Y/N) seemed impressed about something. Jon and Theon trailed after them, providing input that (Y/N) largely ignored in favor of giving Robb his full attention, something surprisingly made him squirm. He finished the tour by introducing (Y/N) to his mother and his younger sister, Sansa. Catelyn greeted (Y/N) politely, more kindly than she treated Jon at least, and offered to get some sweets for them after dinner while Sansa clung to her skirts and watched them.

It wasn't until a few days later, when the boys were giggling on a stack of haybale after their latest mischief that Robb had a thought that would continue to emerge: 'I wish he were a girl.'

As they grew and reached their fifteenth name days, they both began showcasing the faithful traits of their house. Robb grew gentler, less mischievous, and showed a strong sense of honor. He continued reading his histories and studied faithfully under the septa, training nearly every day with Ser Rodrick Cassel and accompanying his father whenever he ventured out on hunts or to meet with others. (Y/N) seemingly grew a taste for blood, something that emerged during training. He went easier on Robb than the others, incredibly apparent as Theon and Jon would end up bruised and bloody by the end of each session. But despite Theon's complaints and Jon's worries about (Y/N) fatally injuring someone, Robb could never shake the astonished, fluttery feeling whenever he saw (Y/N).

"Come on, boy," Ser Rodrick called to the staggering Jon and Robb couldn't help but wince at the trickle of blood going down his nose. Jon wiped it away, his black hair clinging to his dirt-speckled sweaty face. Nobody had to look at Theon to know the boy likely looked pale as winter snow. (Y/N) pointed the - thankfully - wooden sword at Jon and cocked his head to the side, a wide grin across his face.

"What's wrong, Snow?" (Y/N) taunted, and Jon glared at him, throwing aside his sword and marching right up to (Y/N). The Bolton laughed when Jon grabbed the sides of his chest armor, his teeth digging into his bottom lip before he rammed the end of the sword into Jon's temple. Jon cursed loudly and released him to grab the side of his head, the blow working as intended when (Y/N) slammed his foot into Jon's chest piece and knocked him back.

"I believe that's enough, aye, lad?" Robb straightened up at the sound of his father's voice, craning his neck to watch Ned step out of the nearby building and approach them with a grimace. He gently clapped the back of (Y/N)'s shoulder to congratulate him, his eyes remaining locked on his bastard son's panting form. "Go see Maester Luwin, Jon."

"May I have a word in private, Lord Stark?" Ser Rodrick asked, earning a curt nod in response. (Y/N)'s eyes followed the two older men as they walked further away from them, their voices drowned out by the hustle and bustle of servants working and guests chatting. His lips formed a noticeable pout, one that made Robb chuckle as he helped take the chest piece off him.

"They're going to send me home." (Y/N) muttered bitterly.

"They won't," Robb assured him, handing the piece off to a nearby servant and giving them a thankful smile. (Y/N) huffed, the air coming out in a small cloud, and he tossed the sword aside into the dirt beside them. Robb caught a brief look at the knitted brow, sullen expression on his face before (Y/N) turned on his heel and stormed away. Immediately, Robb followed without a second thought, keeping his eyes focused on the boy until they reached the Godswood.

"Leave me alone, Robb." (Y/N) muttered grumpily, slumping down on the ground beside the water and roughly tugging blades of grass from the ground.

"Not until you tell me what's wrong," Robb responded, taking a seat beside him and gazing out into the water. The Godswood had always been a place to seek peace or advice from the Old Gods, a place Robb could visit to clear his mind or simply escape for a brief moment. (Y/N) pursed his lips and Robb smiled, pressing his fingertip against (Y/N)'s cheek and gigging softly when he swatted at his hand. "Come on, tell me."

"Nobody here likes me. They're scared of me." (Y/N) said quietly, tugging more grass out of the dirt. "Lord Eddard is going to send me home to the Dreadfort, I know he is. Father's going to be mad at me but at least Dom will be there."

Robb stared at him, noticing the way he pressed his lips together to stop them from quivering. "I like you." He revealed softly and (Y/N) tilted his head toward him, eyes flickering between Robb's vibrant blue eyes. Robb's stomach twisted and turned, heat rising up his neck and covering his ears like fire.

"How much?"

"A lot." He admitted, the branches above them gently rustling together with the wind. The sound eased his nerves, eased the dread threatening to bubble up and consume him. "If you were a lady, I would ask Father to let us wed."

(Y/N)'s lips curled up at that. "The Old Gods do not care if we're both men, Robb." He reminded him, that familiar grin working its way onto his face. Robb smiled again, setting his hand over (Y/N)'s and putting an end to his constant grass tearing. "Would you kill for me, Robb?"

"To protect you, yes," Robb answered immediately, no poundering needed. He'd kill to protect any of his loved ones. His parents, Jon, Theon, Sansa, little Arya and Bran. His father spilled blood for his late sister, Lyanna, during the rebellion and Robb doubted his father wouldn't do it all over again for her. "Would you?"

"If you asked." Then, (Y/N) leaned forward and clumsily mushed their lips together, sending a jolt down Robb's spine and a heat throughout his face. He'd kissed a young lady once or twice in secret and out of curiosity but despite his brief experience, he moved nervously and just as clumsily.

Things rapidly changed from then on, behind closed doors at least. To the servants and residents of Winterfell, the two remained the same close friends as always, but away from prying eyes and curious ears, they were inseparable lovers. Robb's lingering stares grew and any ladies his mother asked him about were brushed away for one excuse or another. The sneaking around, the subtle touches, and innocent gestures, it was all exciting for them but Robb grew to prefer how hungry (Y/N) always seemed for him. It felt good to be wanted, felt good when he whispered loving confessions and laughed at (Y/N)'s eye rolls and flustered smiles.

Until, as quickly as their relationship began, they were just as quickly swept away from each other.

Not long after (Y/N) sixteenth name day, news arrived at Winterfell of Domeric Bolton's death. An illness in the stomach, the first letter from Maester Uthor read, but the letter from Roose informed him of a new family member who'd potentially caused the death of his brother: a half-brother by the name of Ramsay Snow—a bastard of the North. With Domeric dead, the title of heir fell on (Y/N)'s shoulders and took him away from Winterfell and back to the Dreadfort. Jon and Theon eased with his absence but Robb's heart broke into pieces. As a secondborn, (Y/N) could do as he pleased and remain by Robb's side forever if he wished, but as an heir?

As much as his absence pained him, Robb ensured to write (Y/N) many letters, most with secret messages only the two of them could understand. He detailed any events that'd gone on, small or big, silly or tragic. He wrote to him about the pups found by Jon and the one he'd claimed, about the royal visit at Winterfell and his father's new position as Hand, Jon joining the Night's Watch, the saddening news of his sister's wolf being killed. The letters stopped when Lord Robb Stark of Winterfell called the bannermen to war.

Robb focused on the war, on avenging his father and bringing his beloved sisters home before they could be harmed by the Lannisters. The Bolton's joined the effort, of course, but Robb hardly saw (Y/N) during the start. They both had their duties, their own men to command, and many more things to worry about. But, the reunion had Robb nearly collapsing.

He'd seen him, caught a brief glance during a battle with Lannister's army. It'd been enough to make him fight even harder, and they'd won in the end, returning back to camp to treat their wounded and count the dead. Robb had been swept away, his new title as King of the North forcing even more responsibilities onto his lap, but he managed to keep his racing mind focused enough to manage the tasks at hand, nearly forgetting about the glimpse until that night.

Dragging the wet rag over his sword, Robb thought about his father. He thought about all the things Ned would say to him, the advice he'd give to him. His father knew of battles and rebellions, he knew of war. Robb only knew what he learned as the war progressed. Sure, there were many older men who'd fought alongside his father, who still had the taste of war in their mouths, but none would compare to the knowledge of Eddard Stark. He sighed quietly, gazing over his reflection and failing to hear the person entering his tent.

"King of the North, aye? Has a pretty ring to it." He tensed immediately, first due to surprise and then because of that familiar voice. His head whirled around, eyes wide and heart pleading. (Y/N) grinned at him, splatters of blood still covering his skin and clothes from a battle the Boltons and few others had ridden out to, but it suited him perfectly. The sword fell with a loud clatter and Robb darted up from his seat, unable to restrain himself from flying into (Y/N)'s embrace. "Missed me, hm?" He laughed.

"Of course, I missed you, you bastard." Robb exhaled, leaning back to grasp the sides of his face, disregarding the blood that smeared onto his palms before he crashed their lips together. An almost animalistic growl-like noise emitted from (Y/N) throat and he kissed him back more roughly, as were most things with (Y/N). The Bolton backed him up until Robb fell back onto the bed, briefly knocking the air out of him. (Y/N) hovered above him, eyes glinting with a familiar look that sent heat rushing to his stomach.

"Sorry 'bout Lord Eddard, Robb." He murmured, dipping down to brush his lips over Robb's cheek and down to his throat where he dug his teeth lightly into him.

"I heard of your half-brother, (Y/N)." Robb sighed again, the familiarity of it all making him lightheaded. His beloved had always been all tongue and teeth. (Y/N) snorted softly into his throat, a short chuckle leaving him at the mention of Ramsay's demise. He'd died in his sleep, or so Lord Bolton had said.

"Never liked him, anyway." (Y/N) told him, rising back up to press their lips tightly together, teeth digging into Robb's bottom lip and tugging lightly. "I have news, Robb."

"Can it wait?" Robb knew the answer but he hoped pulling (Y/N) closer would change his mind. (Y/N) chuckled again and moved his hips, a lazy smirk spreading across his face when Robb cursed softly under his breath and reached down to fumble with their pants.

"No, My King."

"Gods, you're the worst."

A sadistic little bastard but Robb loved him anyway. (Y/N)'s amusement faded away and he inhaled heavily, planting his hands on the sides of Robb's head and staring down at him. The seriousness made Robb straighten up, despite their rather compromising position, and he nodded for (Y/N) to continue. "My father plans on betraying you, Robb. Your rejection of Walder Frey's girls gave way for Father. He plans on marrying one of his daughters for an alliance. He wants to kill you." Robb's blood ran icy cold. War always had its fair share of traitors and cowardly, slimy men.

"Are you certain?" Robb sat up in the bed, forcing (Y/N) to lean back and stand again. A traitor in their midst and Walder Frey's ego. Two problems Robb hardly had time to deal with. (Y/N) reached out, fingers dipping under Robb's chin and tilting his head up.

"Give me your command and I'll bring his head to you by early morrow."

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soup-in-my-fly · 1 month

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Ah yes, Theon, the king of priorities.

(Little prequel to this modern AU thramsay comic)

#game of thrones #asoiaf #ramsay bolton #thramsay #theon x ramsay #theon greyjoy #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf modern au #game of thrones modern au #got fanart #asoiaf fanart #theon fanart #thramsay au #my art #Can you tell I spent all day on this? 😀😀#I sorta got lost in the sauce #the comic script was actually much shorter than this #but I felt it necessary to add the last few panels… 😼😼

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yandere-toons · 5 months

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The relationship between thee sorcerer!reader and Ramsay is giving me kind of Mary on a Cross by Ghost-vibes I love it!! Can't wait for more!!

Oh my, this song is perfect for that dumpster fire! I'd heard the name, but now I have more sketches in front of me than my poor hand-eye coordination can handle.

Sorcerer!Reader: I could kill you easily.

Ramsay Bolton:

#Also Ramsay: Joke's on you I'm into that shit #yandere #yandere concept #yandere x reader #yandere game of thrones #yandere ramsay bolton #yandere memes #game of thrones #ramsay bolton #game of thrones x reader #ramsay bolton x reader #a song of ice and fire #asoiaf #asoiaf meme

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greywoe · 7 months

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[...] and then something touched him and he whirled, shouting... ...flailing for the dagger he kept by his bedside and managing only to knock it to the floor. Wex danced away from him. Reek stood behind the mute, his face lit from below by the candle he carried. "What?" Theon cried. Mercy. "What do you want? Why are you in my bedchamber? Why?"

(when the nightmare continues even after waking up)

#you can tell that this one's old and pretty ugly but i think the awfulness fits the vibe so here goes #asoiaf #asoiaf fanart #theon greyjoy #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #wex pyke #my drawings #happy halloween..#i drew this one in conjuction with the other rams one lol but that's about it when it comes to him dw #acok

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catofoldstones · 6 months

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once jon snow (my beloved) wakes up, is dangerous and terrifying and wolfish, and takes back winterfell, it is over for you bitches

#especially you ramsay bolton #but once r + l = j is confirmed it is over for my beloved jon snow 😔#he’s going to cross all levels of emo #jon snow #asoiaf

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ourrootsgodeep · 1 year

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demon on a leash.

(ramsay bolton x oakheart!reader)

a/n: listen i like evil men okay. i do not condone their actions i just think it’s kind of hot and silly and i don’t think that is a problem (it is a problem)

warnings: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT OR I WILL HIT YOU WITH A CAR, ramsay bolton is a warning in and of himself, pre-season 4 of GOT, unprotected sex, oral sex (f receiving), biting, breeding kink, murder, stray pickled eyeball, ramsay is a fucking creep, this could probably be described as yandere, the author is bad at writing smut, this author is bad at writing generally, vague mention of joffrey (disgusting), implied bisexual reader but let’s face it all my readers are bisexual, reader is NOT a virgin and ramsay appreciates it, ramsay is pussywhipped as hell

———

the ceremony had been beautiful, but it was so cold up there. she had expected her wedding to be warm and summery, but when her mother had betrothed her to the infamous “bastard of bolton,” all her fantasies were dashed.

y/n smoothed the creamy velvet dress as she stood before the fire. the jewels she was wearing caught the light beautifully, glowing amber in the dim atmosphere. ramsay would be there soon, she thought. he had seemed so odd during the ceremony: cold, and charming, and utterly attentive to her. disturbingly attentive, for someone of his reputation. he poured wine for her, cut her meat. his pale gaze never left her for even a second.

a floorboard creaked suddenly, and she whirled around. ramsay stood there, observing her in the firelight. “my beautiful wife,” he said, in his soft, rasping voice.

she curtsied. “husband.”

he crossed the room in three quick strides, taking her hand in his and directing her into one of two chairs at the fireside. margaery tyrell had one like him, she thought. if only she remembered how margaery had said she handled him.

ramsay hadn’t stopped staring at her for even a second. “forgive me, sweet girl, i had some unfinished business to take care of.”

“it’s quite alright,” she said softly, and hesitated before speaking again. “i am sure whatever it was must have been important. i do not begrudge you your time.”

ramsay’s mouth twitched in a faint, amused smile. “i am glad to hear it. incidentally, i have a gift for you.”

“oh?”

he nodded and reached into his pocket, pulling out a small, ornately carved wooden box. y/n took it with murmured thanks and turned it over in her hands, inspecting it carefully. it was carved with oak leaves around the sides, and the flayed man of house bolton on top. as she turned it, she heard a faint thunk inside. she turned to ramsay, feigning delight, dreading what her instinct told her was within. “what is it, my love?”

he raised his eyebrows and smiled cheerfully, but said nothing, merely gesturing for her to open it.

when she undid the clasp and the lid sprang open, a bloody brown eye looked back up at her.

she froze, forcing her face into a faint, impassive smile, her thoughts running through all the people it could be. a friend? a cousin, dear gods, not-

she turned to ramsay, who was grinning delightedly. “whose is it, my love?”

he stood, coming over and leaning over her shoulder, pressing a surprisingly gentle kiss to her shoulder before replying. “one of walder frey’s bastards. he had the nerve to ask me when the bedding ceremony was.”

interesting. maybe she could work with this. “thank you for that, husband,” she said, choosing her words carefully. “i do not wish anyone to see my body, save you.” y/n took his hand from where it rested behind her and pressed his scarred knuckles to her lips, looking up at him and making her eyes large and soft.

he preened under the attention. “good girl.” his voice was low and raspy, pupils blown wide in his pale eyes.

alright, she thought. she could work with this.

———

king robert’s fiftieth birthday was held at winterfell, and almost everyone was in attendance, from the umbers of the last hearth to the ullers of hellholt and the redwynes of the arbor. even most of the bastards of the great houses had been invited, leaving ramsay standing in a corner while his father spoke with lord flint.

he had hoped to see lady oakheart and her daughter that night. he had heard of lady y/n’s beauty as she grew, remembering her from when they were children. he scanned the room, sneering at jon umber as he noticed him trying to flirt with margaery tyrell, scowling at rickard karstark’s drunken jokes.

he could see theon greyjoy standing off to the side, eying a woman in gold with robb stark. curious, he followed their gaze, and it led him back to her.

he inhaled sharply when he saw her, in soft silks draped carefully over her soft curves, with golden pins and jewels holding it delicately in place. he hadn’t seen her since they were thirteen years old, but in the five years since then, she was a woman.

he could see greyjoy walking over to her, which meant he had to act fast. he crossed the distance between them as quickly as possible, bowing before her as he reached her and noting greyjoy’s annoyance with delight. “sweet lady,” he said, looking back up at her after a moment.

her lips parted in a pretty smile. she looked like a goddess, in a halo of candlelight, resplendent in gold. “my lord,” she said with a slight chuckle.

he stared at her for a moment, his breath catching in his throat before he remembered himself. “would you dance with me?” he asked.

she raised her eyebrows, her voice taking on a teasing lilt. “i don’t even know your name.”

“ramsay.”

“y/n.” she took his arm gently, allowing him to lead her onto the dance floor.

he settled his hands onto her hips as the slow, elegant song began, delighted to feel the soft flesh so warm under the thin fabric. “how do you find the north so far?” he asked, looking down into her eyes.

“cold,” she replied. “i thought people were exaggerating the summer chill.”

he could see that. her hard nipples were poking through the dress. he wondered what her skin would taste like if he were to lick and suck at the pointed nubs. “i never particularly notice, myself. you get used to it the more you stay up here.”

“are you from here, then?”

“near the dreadfort.” he spun her carefully in his arms, watching her earrings catch the light. her perfume smelled like vanilla and sweet amber. “i’m in service to lord bolton.”

“oh really?” she was so close to him he could feel her breath. he silently thanked the old gods, or whichever gods were out there, for the crowds on the dance floor. “i was betrothed to his son, before he died. lord domeric.”

“were you now?”

“mhm. it was such a tragedy. i did not know him well, but he seemed a very kind man.”

kind indeed. he remembered the slight look of disdain she had had for him when they met. how lucky that she was now available to marry ramsay. “are you betrothed now?” he asked.

“not yet. i’ve had an offer made to me by theon greyjoy’s father, but nothing is settled.”

he clenched his teeth, but kept a straight face. “the greyjoys are an old and proud house. you could do well there.”

“mm, perhaps. too proud for my taste, though. and it’s so dreary there. i would miss my home.” ramsay looked down at her face, eyeing her lips, painted with red ochre. in the candlelight, it looked like she had been drinking blood. “besides, if i were to marry anyone, it would have to be someone like you.”

he had to do a double take to be sure he wasn’t imagining things. he’d been dreaming of that for so long. “you’d what?”

she chuckled, her cheeks flushed. “well, not you specifically. but someone who isn’t the heir of a great house like the starks or the greyjoys, who wouldn’t get in the way of me inheriting my own lands..-.”

she was still talking, but he wasn’t listening. all he could think of was her words. she would have to marry someone like him.

———

the fire was still crackling in the hearth, but ramsay was uncomfortably silent.

y/n could still feel his pale eyes on her as she stared at the frey man’s eye. he was working at undoing the elaborate braided hairstyle she had been married in, carefully plucking out the pins and placing them on the vanity next to them. “i should go down to the maester tomorrow and get a good jar of vinegar for this,” she remarked, trying to break the silence.

she could see his eyebrows crease through the mirror. “what for?”

“it’ll preserve it,” y/n replied. she tilted her head back and smiled up at him as the last lock of her hair came undone. “so i can keep your sweet gift forever, my dear husband.”

he smiled broadly and kissed the top of her head. “you are the sweet one, little wife.” at least she now knew what seemed to please him.

she stood up, pulling the thick locks of her hair over her shoulder, exposing the laces of her dress to him. “will you undress your wife?” she asked softly.

he let out a noise that was half chuckle, half groan and stepped closer to her. he pressed a lazy kiss to the junction of her shoulder, grazing the soft and delicate skin with his teeth. “i will.”

———

she saw the power she had over him, he knew that, but ramsay couldn’t bring himself to care. he finally had her, and everything was coming together.

he undid the strings holding her dress carefully, feeling the smooth velvet on his hands. he had been concerned, sometimes, when he was fucking his fist or myranda late at night, that they would be too rough for his pretty darling. he’d heard she liked the pretty boys down south. pretty boys and pretty girls both. his spies had at least been helpful in that regard. but she hadn’t seemed to mind his hands much when he was undoing her hair. he had noticed that she was wearing the same vanilla and amber perfume as at that ball two years ago. the scent permeated her hair, and since he had touched her neck he could smell it on his hands.

she was turning to him now, the firelight catching in her hair and turning it to a halo again. her dress hadn’t yet fallen down.

he noticed her lips moving and blinked, fixing his mouth into a winning smile. “pardon me, love, i wasn’t paying attention. what was that?”

she smiled back at him prettily. “i asked whether you’d like me to undress you, husband.”

he shook his head. “not yet. take off your clothes.”

she inhaled sharply through her nose and let the dress fall.

———

ramsay looked down at domeric, watching him writhe in his bed.

domeric’s eyes cracked open, watching him approach. “you did this,” he croaked. “you poisoned me.”

“mm. yes, i did.” ramsay shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a seat in the chair at the side of the bed.

domeric coughed. “why? i was always kind to you. you were my brother.”

ramsay laughed harshly. “your bastard brother, as you reminded me every day.” he leaned closer. “you stole my father, my birthright. you tried to steal the woman i love. i stopped you.”

“woman?” domeric frowned. “you love y/n? ha!” he coughed again, glaring up at ramsay with a red-rimmed eye. “you don’t love anyone.”

ramsay smiled at him coldly. “certainly not you.” he picked up a pillow idly, pretending to inspect it closely before standing up and smiling cheerfully at domeric. “happy dreams, dear brother.”

the pillow descended over domeric’s face.

———

y/n didn’t want to admit it, but ramsay’s words had gotten to her. perhaps it was something to do with the way he said it, in that low rasp, or the way his eyes looked at her so hungrily. the dress slipped down her body, leaving her in her under clothes. she heard him inhale sharply when he saw the sheer, delicate lace chemise hugging her breasts, pushed up beautifully in the corset. she undid the clasps holding it up, heat rising in her belly when he groaned as her breasts fell free.

“on the bed,” he ordered, and she complied, quickly sitting on the edge and waiting for him.

instead of pushing her back and undoing his trousers as she thought he would, he knelt in front of her. she watched his hands closely, watched them pull her legs apart, begin to pull down the delicate lace stockings. she shivered in the new cold against her legs, then shivered again when he pressed a kiss to her thigh, just above her knee. he grinned at her reaction to him, then pounced forward quickly and but down harshly at the tender skin of her inner thigh.

y/n cried out at the feeling of his teeth sinking into her, and ramsay looked up and hushed her gently. “quiet, sweetling. you’re mine now. i get to mark you as i please. i will not hurt you too badly.”

her chest rose and fell in quickened breaths, and she looked down at him with eyes that she knew were blown wide with lust. “i did not say it was a bad pain.”

ramsay laughed darkly, looking up at her like a starving man. “i believe i must be the luckiest man in the world.”

he reached upwards and tore through her smallclothes, ignoring her protests and diving into her core, lapping at it like a man dying of thirst. he nipped slightly at her swollen bud and she moaned his name loudly, reaching down and grabbing a fistful of his hair. he groaned at the mix of pain and pleasure and reached down, using one hand to hold her legs apart and the other to fist his cock. y/n could barely hear it over the rush of blood in her ears, but as she came over his face and tongue she could hear him muttering things like, “so beautiful… wanted you for so long… no one else deserved you.”

she collapsed back on the bed, chest heaving and cheeks flushed. ramsay chuckled softly. “not yet, pet. let me see you.” he pulled her up and took her lace chemise off of her body carefully, setting it aside. finally, he lay her back on the bed, admiring the many bruises and bites that now littered her thighs and shoulders. “are you a virgin?” he murmured hoarsely. at her hesitation, he added, “do not worry, sweet girl, i won’t be angry. you didn’t know yet.”

didn’t know what? she wanted to ask, but refrained. instead, she slowly shook her head. “i am not, no.” he didn’t seem like a person to lie to.

his lips parted in a wide and utterly unexpected grin. “thank the gods.”

he flipped her over onto her belly, manhandling her into the position he wanted on the bed. he raised her hips into the air and climbed up behind her, undoing his trousers and letting his cock spring free. it fell against her center, and he rutted against her a few times, soaking his painfully hard length with her slick and then plunging into her, setting a rough, almost punishing pace from the start. y/n mewled, her hands curling into the sheets and fisting the soft material. he would bruise her hips, she was sure, with how hard he was gripping them, muttering between his grunts of pleasure about how pretty she would look round and swollen with his heir. he reached up and palmed her tits, pulling her backward into his chest and pinching her hardened nipples. “you see these?” he panted, making her whine as the rough pads of his thumbs brushed over her sore flesh. “these will feed my son in a few months, pretty wife.”

y/n’s head tilted back, falling onto his shoulder, exposing her soft neck to him. he bit down at the tender place just under her jaw as he finished, reaching down to rub harshly at the pearl between her legs and making her tremble and squeeze around him as she came, leaving her limp-boned in his arms. he panted harshly for a few moments, letting her collapse back onto him, before carefully pulling out and laying her down on the bed, chest still rising and falling quickly. y/n saw him get up through half-lidded eyes, admiring the muscles of his back as he moved. he rifled through his desk for a moment as she caught her breath before turning back and walking to her, holding something small in his hands.

he looked down at her spread legs, where a few drops of his seed had leaked out of her swollen, puffy cunt. “careful now, sweetling,” he murmured. he used his free hand to push the sticky white spend back inside her, grinning at the whine she let out at the intrusion into her sensitive core. “have to make sure there’s a baby in you by next month.”

y/n nodded sleepily, eyes half shut. she gestured towards the small thing in his hand. “what’s that?” she murmured.

“oh, this?” he held it up. “it’s a collar.” the jewelry was rich, fine gold, studded with rubies and emblazoned with the sigil of house bolton. “do you know what collars are for?”

y/n blinked up at him sleepily, dreading what he was going to say.

“they tell you who owns the bitch, sweet wife.” he caressed her face gently, then pulled her up into a sitting position and fastened the collar around her neck. it sat prettily at the base of her throat, the rubies gleaming like fresh blood. “now, whose bitch are you, my love?”

y/n’s voice was hoarse and quiet from moans and cries and no small amount of fear. “yours, husband.”

“i didn’t quite hear you.” he tugged her head forward until her lips were close enough to kiss. he spoke slowly, emphasizing every word. “who. do you. belong to?” the collar was digging into the bruises on her neck, but y/n looked up at him and cleared her throat. her mind was whirling with fear, with escape plans, with the question of how she was going to survive this. “answer me, my love,” he said again, gripping the collar tighter. y/n’s eyes seemed to clear as a realization came over her, a new plan for survival. she looked up at him with hazy, false, lovesick eyes, and answered him.

“you. i belong to you.”

#game of thrones x reader #ramsay bolton x you #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay bolton #got x you #got x reader

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barelyanartblog · 15 days

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Real

#reason why theon killed all the ravens it is known #my art #asoiaf #if you ignore ramsay this could even be pre-betrayal #robb stark #theon greyjoy #ramsay bolton #ramsay snow #comics #incorrect quotes #source: twitter

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thesandsofelsweyr · 9 months

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AK Jay lying prone on the bloodstained floor of his makeshift cell beneath Arkham, his abused shoulders screaming with pain, unable to move his arms after they were forced out of their sockets from dangling by his weak wrists for hours. He can barely move his legs, but chooses not to since even the smallest of movements sends agony flooding through his battered body from his broken right ankle and dislocated left kneecap. All he can do is weep into the floorboards while he prays (futilely) that he’ll pass out sometime soon.

Out of the corner of his blackened eye he catches the hint of movement. His weeping dissolves into sniffles as a tiny mouse creeps up to him. He has seen this mouse before, but it had always skittered away from him, even when he had offered it a few crumbs of moldy bread that he had hidden for it beneath one of the photos of Batman and Robin that littered the floor.

His entire being is still overwhelmed with immense pain, but he takes a tiny bit of comfort in the appearance of his now emboldened friend.

Days turn to weeks turn to months of nonstop suffering, but his only friend in the world continues to visit him. It's the only thing he has to look forward to in this hell.

#ramsay bolton voice:#“if you think this has a happy ending you haven’t been paying attention” 😈#there's a reason why jay smashes the rat with his boot in ak genesis 5 #but i'll save that for another post 😎#sands writes #my headcanons #my arkhamverse #jason todd #robin #arkham knight #arkham asylum #arkhamverse #angst #jason todd angst #whump #jason todd whump #dcu

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bedtimegiraffe · 4 months

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I can't be the only person who looked at Aerin's CG and thought- this bitch is posing. He spotted me 3 minutes ago and he's just been standing there, anxiously brainstorming the best way to look cool when I noticed him. And when I turned to walk this way, he leaned against the fence and smirked because he thought it would look confident and collected.

He's right, but read the room, man. You look like a dick coming in here with that energy. I saw you awkwardly standing outside the fortune teller's tent trying to look busy while you waited for me. You can't fool me with this!

#When I first saw this leaked I thought 'GoT Ramsay Bolton energy' which is NOT WHAT YOU WANT MY MAN #Aerin I love you please just embrace that you're a dork at heart #blades of light and shadow #choices bolas #blades of light and shadow 2 #aerin valleros

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kingsmoot · 5 months

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this like. makes me wanna die lol. a northern army marches for lord eddard stark's girl. what about his steward's little girl? what about lady hornwood? what about the dozens of smallfolk chased through the woods on broken ankles and knocked down onto lashed backs? no? all just some girl?

#it's also all bull because where were all of you when she was on her WAY to the dreadfort? hm?#people have known far and wide about 'arya's betrothal to the bolton bastard #southern and northern lordd alike have talked about how she is too young and also btw ramsay is a SERIAL KILLING MASS RAPIST #and every time we bow our heads lower our eyes wring our fingers and we do NOTHING #JEYYYYYYYYYYYNE MY BABYGIRL #liveblog tag #adwd liveblog tag

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bananastarion · 6 months

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I've been on and off tumblr since 2009, and I've seen enough crazy bullshit on this hellsite to fully anticipate a legion of fangirls shipping Cazador/Astarion and writing all kinds of lurid torture-heavy noncon fic

To my surprise, this fandom has been incredibly well behaved?? The few Cazador/Astarion things I've seen have been surprisingly tame. I'm shocked, I tell you! And slightly relieved...

#astarion #my ex would have been in love with cazador lol #she loved ramsay bolton so that tells you all you need to know #cazador is 100% her type down the the long greasy dark hair #it wouldnt surprise me if she got into this fandom and started shipping them #i rue the day

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ghostlyturncloaks · 4 months

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fic

here's a little fic i wrote for this year's theon exchange: Dead Men Singing Songs, which, following the very fun prompts i got, drops in on theon at different points of his life: getting used to winterfell, dealing with ramsay in acok, a conversation with rowan in adwd, visiting aeron's ship. enjoy!

#kidfic by ME who'd have ever thought #but yea i did #theon greyjoy #ramsay bolton #aeron greyjoy #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #there is the usual fare of poor starved boo boo does evil and suffers too don't you worry #(nobody worried)

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lord-armitage · 8 months

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look, I know that Ramsay Bolton needs to be put down by a vet and his brain examined by scientists so we as readers get to know exactly just what the fuck was wrong with him. But I am desperate to know what makes a man, who ordered his weird mentor/best friend to literally die for him then pretended to be said weird best friend and then at literally the first opportune moment proceeded to torture and brainwash a high-value POW into becoming a second version of the weird best friend, tick.

#I know that part of this is just Ramsay being a survivalist and a sadist but c'mon man it's really weird that you did this #asoiaf #ramsay bolton

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dontbotherwiththepronunciation · 1 year

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I fantasise about Ramsay's death a lot

I think Ramsay will be killed at some point during ASOIAF but I've been wondering how and what exactly we could get for the narrative of certain characters depending on the different outcomes and I am insomniac so I want to write something more or less useful so I can sleep or at least avoid intrusive thoughts.

So, here is a poll with possible outcomes for Ramsay's death, some of them I've read in meta posts, others are simply stuff I thought could be thematically coherent. Under the read more I added my own preferences because I'm feeling bold. You don't have to read those, but I would love it if you tell me some of yours. And you can tell me all you want about that? Is your answer motivated simply for shipping reasons? Simply for revenge? Do you think it will actually happen? I just like reading other people's thoughts.

My Preferences:

1. Killed off-screen by an unnamed lowborn

My personal favourite. I don't think Ramsay will get an off-screen death scene with an "irrelevant" character and I understand why but until it happens I get to fantasise and while I think for many this would be considered unsatisfying or anti-climactic, to me it would feel thematically coherent and beautiful.

Ramsay Bolton, the living nightmare, a monster from hell, killed by some rando. Someone who wouldn't make it down in history, someone who would be forgotten, someone who would be seen as disposable and irrelevant.

Through this we could have what is, in my opinion, the biggest offence ever directed at Ramsay AND a really sad and harrowing exploration of Theon and Jeyne's feelings on the matter.

Surprisingly, I was never feeling frightened by Euron as I read AFFC, the fear only settled when I read Aeron's preview chapter for TWOW. I was terrified (/pos) how could I not be? The eyes through which I witness all are tainted by terror during that chapter.

With Ramsay the more you think about how our perception of him is one conditioned by Theon's powerlessness, the less mighty he actually becomes. He is not a monster, he is a human like everyone else, he can be killed like everyone else and the concept of knocking him down from this idea he has built around himself, as a creature one should be frightened of, to have him become so irrelevant to the text that we don't even get to witness his death nor know anything about the killer because there is nothing that could be interesting or worthy of mention about that killer is wonderful to me. It makes Ramsay irrelevant and unworthy of mention.

And yet, I also think it would be very tragic for Theon without inflicting any sort of pain on him. Through ADWD he keeps fantasising about killing Ramsay and every single time he keeps himself from actually doing it because at this point Ramsay isn't a person for Theon, he is an omnipotent entity that builds and destroys. So, if he were to find out that Ramsay was easily subdued by someone with no name, no house, no military power, a no one, that could destroy his self esteem. It could lead into even more feelings of guilt and shame while ultimately proving that Ramsay isn't really all that.

I think people (me) often believe in what they like to believe and I would like to believe this is an actual possibility even if the more conscious side of my brain is thinking "Wtf are you on? GRRM is not gonna do that. Do you think he is stupid enough to be this anti-climactic about something everyone is eagerly waiting for since a decade? You think he wants to have people saying show!Ramsay's death was better than book!Ramsay's?" So, yeah I don't believe this will actually happen, I would love it if it did, it would be very meaningful to me, but I have no expectations and I understand how this is probably not something most people would enjoy.

2. Fed to his dogs by Barbrey

All the reasons I want him to be eaten by his gos (listed down in 4.) + my anti-vaxxer, conspiracy theorist, Karen Queen Barbrey Dustin.

I have a horribly unpopular opinion about Ramsay's dogs that would get me cancelled for animal cruelty (/hj) and I have a lot of very personal feelings about this woman.

If she is supposed to be a woman who knows how to nurse a grievance (hot) then why would she be alright with letting the boy she thinks killed her surrogate son become Lord of Winterfell or even King in the North? She openly spits on Ramsay (hot) and even defies him through her conversations with Theon. The idea of her being a conspirator among the Manderlys and the Glovers isn't something I've been bought into yet because I still believe in her distaste for the Starks™ being real (hot), but I can't imagine she would feel any more tranquility at the idea of Ramsay turning into her liege lord, if anything I think she would be terrified because HAVE YOU NOT HEARD OF WHAT HAPPENED TO THE LAST NORTHERN AGEING WIDOW WHO RULED ON HER OWN WITH LANDS TO HER CLAIM AND NO APPARENT HEIRS????

"Me," said Ramsay. "Ramsay of House Bolton, Lord of the Hornwood, heir to the Dreadfort.

To me, that sounds like the vague reminder of a threat.

We have also seen a few moments in which she not only makes her disdain for him public, but also defies him! Prohibiting him from entering into Barrow Hall, treating Theon with something similar to dignity (I know it's only mildly implied but if we ever get confirmation on her being the one who gave him the cloak he wears during A Ghost in Winterfell I will scream and cry ) and she also constantly refers to him as "Bastard" although he has been legitimised)

Also, while I believe she probably knows "Arya Bolton née Stark" is a fake, I doubt she knows it's Jeyne Poole and I also doubt she didn't feel at least some guilt over handing her to Ramsay.

When Jeyne is asking Theon to escape with her she mentions "They said he hurt you." Who said that? Who is they? Could Barb be one of them? Was she warning her? I think it's possible, but I know this is only me assuming things. I have no evidence for anything.

There would also be a lot of irony built around that considering Ramsay's comment on Reek |||:

"If I cut off her teats and feed them to my girls, will she abide me then?"

In a sense I also really love the idea of Ramsay's bones finding themselves in kennels (something Barb is already planning on doing to Ned's (hot)). If both of them find their resting place among the dogs, oh I would feel so much.

Before anyone starts believing I think Ned is as horrible as Ramsay, no I don't. Ned is honourable and just at his best and hypocritical and self-righteous at his worst. Ramsay is himself at his worst and Reek at his best.

The reason I would enjoy this wouldn't be out of thinking that Ned "deserves" that, it would be because Ned and Ramsay are the two people who have hurt this woman the most and also the two people who have deprived Theon of his designated life the most.

3. Public execution by a non-Northerner leader

This is the one I find the most probable to be honest.

Westeros' feudalism seems to be better for the common folk after the Targaryen conquest than they were prior to it. I really doubt GRRM will be willing to dissolve them and send them even further back into an even more inequalitarian feudalism. By having an outsider bring the Northerners their "justice" it would be easier to get them to wilfully decide to reintegrate themselves into the Seven Kingdoms, which is where the Davos-Rickon-Stannis plot will apparently go.

Stannis is already waiting for the battle of Winterfell and I have no idea whether he will win or not, but I think as of now killing the bastard is on his priority list. There is a possibility that he might not kill him immediately but just keeps him captive, and that could be very very fun. While I wouldn't want Theon & Ramsay to have to interact again, I understand how appealing this could be for so many of us. I don't really have anything against this, I just like the other two options mentioned above more.

Asha would be the only case I can think of in this option that could be motivated by more than political plotting or a sense of justice, but also because of personal feelings regarding Theon's trauma. If it were to happen, I doubt it would be a proper execution though, I can see this happening more on the battlefield. I think there could be some beauty in Ramsay "I-rape-girls-for-fun" Snow to find his demise at Asha and her suckling babe, a warrior woman who is also the sister of the man he has been humiliating (to say the least) for the past year. There could be some poetic justice in that. Politically it could also be fun to see the Northerners being confronted by having the Ironborn retaking Winterfell for them and the way their perception of the Iron Islanders could change because of it could be fun and maybe serve as a mirror to the way Asha & Aly have been developing mutual respect for each other. Anyway, here you can find art depicting her & Ramsay as David & Goliath and I love it.

Thematically I would love it if Daenerys would somehow manage to teleport to Winterfell and kill him and be confronted by two uncommon characters that share some similitudes to her past as a child of war & child bride and her actual cause (you can read about those similitudes in this post and this post), but I'm not delusional and I doubt Daenerys will reach the North before Ramsay has been killed so I don't believe it's very probable for them to meet. This is just me being self-indulgent because of the childish wish of wanting my favourite POV characters to interact.

4. Eaten by his dogs our of their own will

As said, I have that one opinion about his dogs and this could go well with it. A taste of his own medicine. Revenge from the deceased. Dog eats dog. Poetic in a sense; The spirits of the women he has raped and hunted and made to be reborn in the bodies of the weapons used against them to take part in the process of making other innocent women join them, finally break free and take revenge against their murderer.

Pretty much the same reasons as to why I like Barbrey feeding him to his dogs, but now there is something more mystique about it. Theon often refers to them as good dogs and it seems like their kennel master Ben Bones also feels fondness for them. Both of them consider the master to be the true monster there, and yet these are still no gentle creatures.

5. Killed by Theon

I feel very ambivalent on this one and most of my reluctance comes from not trusting GRRM's writing abilities to depict it in a way that I find compelling. I love revenge stories, but I rarely like their endings. I love revenge stories, I just rarely like the way they end. "When you go on a journey for revenge you dig two graves instead of one" Sometimes. Sometimes you also dig just one grave but have to spend the rest of your day laying next to the corpse of your never-ending anger and rage. I don't enjoy it a lot when achieving justice or revenge is portrayed in a purely happy light. It doesn't erase everything that has ever happened, it makes you feel unhappy because you know that no suffering inflicted on your abuser could possibly be enough to fulfil the void inside you. It isn't something, it is devastating. Good, now Theon killed him, he is gone, he will never hurt him again, now what? Now what? Is that supposed to be liberating? He is still perpetually changed and now he doesn't even have a target for all that pent-up rage and frustration to be directed at and (Can you tell I'm part of the minority that liked TLOU2 even more than TLOU? ), to me, the concept of adding Ramsay to the long lists of ghosts haunting Theon feels so harsh. I could enjoy it a lot!!! It's just that I doubt it would be written that way and the options mentioned above are more to my taste. I think that if Theon is the one that gets to kill Ramsay it will probably be portrayed in a more triumphant manner, maybe trying to convey Theon's complete rebirth and the deaths of Reek the Second (Ramsay) and Reek the Third (Theon at the Dreadfort) and, even though "Dead is dead. Better dead than Reek" is one of my favourite Theon moments ever, I don't really believe he should completely cast it aside.

"Reek, reek it rhymes with freak/weak/meek/etc." Sure! But also, were it not for Reek he'd probably not be alive. I don't know. I don't like the idea of him reappropriating that name like a minority would reappropriate a slur, but I don't think he should fully reject it either. In a sense, I believe the Reek persona allowed him to find some strange type of mental freedom in regards to "Theon" as a political pawn. Many of the conflicts he had to deal with during ACOK involving his cultural duality and his political standing disappear once he is conditioned into Reek (granted not in a healthy way) and I think that allowed him to develop into his own self more. I don't know If what I'm saying makes any sense. Not a favourite, but still something I could like. Personally, I would like it more if their last conversation was something completely mundane since I think that is very insulting to Ramsay, but it could be cool to have a final scene of them interacting in which Theon openly defies him and Ramsay is perplexed by realising he has been beaten by a creature "lower than a worm in human skin." Ramsay probably hasn't read his Shakespeare, GRRM has. Even a worm will turn.

Here, is the idea someone wrote for a scene emulating the confrontation between a slasher and the final girl and it was fun to read it.

6. Killed by Theon & Jeyne

I dislike it for similar reasons as to why I dislike Theon killing him, and I really don't like the idea of Jeyne being part of it, but I think there would be a lot of value in abuse victims coming together against their abuser and perhaps it would make their bond even stronger which would always be a perk to me because they are the relationship I care about the most in here and I just want them to be a supportive presence in each other's life. As said, I just like the idea of Theon/Jeyne never having to see Ramsay again. I think that is a slight to Ramsay.

7. Public execution by a Stark or a Stark loyalist

Depending on the Starkling doing the execution we could get a glimpse of affection for Theon and Jeyne, which I wouldn't like. Mostly because of personal issues with how the "friendships" between Theon-Jeyne and their respective Stark BFFs are something I interpret very differently to the fandom's common perception.

I also really want Theon to liberate himself from the "The Starks™ were your true family" motto, and the narrative portraying them through a purely heroic and victorious light would annoy me (I like all of the Stark kids as individuals, I just don't like the Starks™). Especially in Ramsay's case, I think it could easily be interpreted as the Starks™ being Theon & Jeyne's saviours.

I do understand how Ramsay, as part of House Bolton and the current Lord of Winterfell, isn't a villain designated to be solely attached to Theon & Jeyne. Politically he and Roose are the Starks' biggest opponents and threats, so I would understand it if GRRM still chooses to take this route (preferably through Jon or Arya) and could hopefully still find some enjoyment in it.

Something I think could be interesting but, similarly to the Daenerys example, is very far-fetched from actually happening, is if one of Lady Stoneheart's companions would be the one. Maybe Harwin. It could mix well with my favourite possibility.

8. Killed by supernatural force

My personal exception would maybe be one involving Bran. Out of the Starks and semi-Starks (Catelyn, Jon), his and Theon's relationship is the one I find the most interesting and it could be very emotional to see this little boy who was a victim of Theon's actions during ACOK be the one to smite Theon's tormentor. Years ago I saw this art depicting Bran and the Children of the forest warging into Ramsay's dogs and killing him while defending Theon & Jeyne and I still like the idea. The only real thing that would bother me in Ramsay dying at the hands of a supernatural force is that it acts as an opposite to my favourite option. If he is killed by someone inhumanely powerful, what does that say about him and his strength? Does that mean Theon's view of him as an all-seeing, all-hearing, all-knowing entity is not based on his own fear? Is Ramsay really such a monster he can only be brought down by another monster?

9. Killed by Jeyne

This one seems to be a fairly popular option, especially loved by Sansa fans and I understand why. There is a surprisingly big amour of art and memes and I can see the appeal but to me, it would feel very tragic which is why I like it the least. Jeyne is a character who has suffered so much while having very little involvement in the events that lead to that suffering. We only have limited information on Jeyne as a person and her role in the narrative is that of a vessel for other people's feelings (which is alright, we need secondary characters) and considering how she has been canonically appalled and repulsed by violence even before she was subjected to horrible acts of violence (being frantic about the Hound killing Mycah, having a meltdown at the tourney, being extremely distressed by the massacre at King's Landing), it would be very sad to witness her becoming a perpetrator of violence even if it would be justified. To me, it would feel like she has lost another part of herself to the trauma inflicted upon her by Ramsay. She has bled too much, I don't want her to have to stain herself in other's blood either.

I have come across other theories, but those are the ones (that I can group) that feel the most plausible to me. Roose or Mance killing Ramsay still deserve mentions of honour, but I don't have too many feelings about those. With Mance it could help bring Wildling and Northerners together and if it were Roose that would probably mean that Walda is withchild and that the Northern plot line might take longer than we all thought it would.

I don't fully oppose any of these options though! And I think there could be narrative value to all of them. As said, these are just personal opinions.

Anyway, I'm gonna go listen to Bob Dylan's Masters of War and mentally envision an amv feat. Theon and Catelyn.

#And I hope that you die #And your death will come soon #I'll follow your casket #By the pale afternoon #And I'll watch while you're lowered #Down to your deathbed #And I'll stand over your grave #'Til I'm sure that you're dead #asoiaf #hopefully #twow #ramsay snow #I'm never tagging him as a Bolton I don't respect his chosen pronouns and I don't know if I should tag the other characters #Anyway I have two options now #either I throw whatever remains of my pseudo anonymity out of the fucking window and then feel stupid because oh the shame #BUT I can laugh about it! and that is funny. I like laughing about my pretentiousness #or I leave it on the #drafts #and keep my thoughts to myself which is what I usually do #ramsay is interesting and as much as I know he's probably going to be played as a cartoon villain who is evil for the lols I don't regret #the marxist readings of him as ridiculous as they sound #Si no publico esto por lo menos tengo que mandárselo a Tânia asi que #recordar #si alguna vez vuelvo a ao3 no debería ser con fanfics de este tipo

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