#has dealt the camp scenes

[tarysande]

look Look LOOk LoOk it's COMPLICATED things are COmplicATED fffffffff

[stagefoureddiediaz]

Current obsession - the updates and changes to the Diaz house!!

Eddie has a new painting over the mantle

and a new one next to the front door in red and blue. The fire engine/truck on its side on the table has me feeling a certain type of way - it feels like a nod to the ladder truck explosion that crushed Bucks leg, but it could also be foreshadowing for this season as well - we'll have to wait and see how things shake out!

The water painting has moved again - its now on the wall next to Christophers room ----------------------------------------------------vvv

and these have appeared on the sitting room wall where that water painting has been seen previously - are they making you scream??

what if I showed you this picture from 4x14

are you screaming like I am now?? Becasue I am very very feral about that picture appearing - pennyfarthing megaphone mans megaphone is pointing right at Eddie nad Bucks ears ini these scenes - saying ... at the top of ones voice - the universe is screaming at you and you refuse to listen!!!!

There are new band posters in Christophers room - the Lunadeers one under the solar system mobile. The name Lunadeers is a fun one - its obviously a play on the band the Lumineers - a made up name, but is a play on the concept of illuminating something - the idea of lighting the way in the darkness - illuminating is also the idea of becoming enlightened and seeing things differently or in a new light.

Luna = moon and is obviously connected to the space theming, but there is also the deers part of the name - deers are crepuscular animals - they are more active at night - in the darkness - under the moon

I'm also clowning is a reference to Buddie because the 'mun' in Edmundo is pronounced moon and a male deer is a Buck - so moon-deer - Eddie and Buck - a nod to Christophers two fathers rom the set and props departments!

Then there is also the Violet Brothers poster on the back of his door - heavily leaning wards the yellow and blue colour ways, there is also the fact that violet is a really interesting colour - it represents future hopes and dreams, imagination and sensitivity!

Not to mention all the watery themes things I've already spotted - mostly what seem to be camp stickers on his wardrobe and the pinboard

theres also a 'boom' sticker - which I love as a possible nod to Christophers roast of Buck in 6x01, but also as a nod to the explosives buck and Eddie have dealt with as part of their job - the grenade and the rocket from this episode plus the foreshadowing of the ship going boom!

The cool cool cool sticker is giving me Abed from community vibes (a queer coded character in his own right!)

and Christophers room has now gained a plant - it moves around a bit - its on the table next to the lamp by the window, then its in a basket next to the table, but its possibly a nod to Christopher growing up!

[amica-aenigmata-naboo]

Do You Love Me?

Astarion x Y/N - Drabble - 523 WC

Masterlist

Warnings: tooth rotting fluff, HEAVILY inspired by this scene in Bridgerton (plot belongs to them)

---------------------

You and Astarion glared at each other, tensions high. So high, in fact that everyone else left camp to do gods know what just as long as it was away from you two. 

“Do you love me?” you asked him point blank.

He hesitated, “I’m trying to protect you.”

“Do you love me?” you asked again.

He looked at you with a pained expression, “I cannot.” he said defeated.

“Do you love me?” you repeated.

“Y/N please, stop.” he said, backing away slowly.

You followed him to the center of camp, not letting him walk away from whatever this was, “Is this because you believe that I cannot love you? Because I do…. I love you Astarion.” Sincerity shined in your eyes.

Astarion stared in disbelief, his mouth not able to produce words.

“I love you so much that I will go, if that is what you wish. I will do that. We can live our separate lives and once the tadpoles are dealt with you never have to see me again. But first you have to say you do not love me; you must tell me that I am utterly alone in this world.” 

He shook his head, trying to break your gaze but unable to, “I’m a monster Y/N. I am a danger. There are two sides in me fighting for power, it's as if the heavens and the hells are colliding.”

“Do you love me?” you asked with a wanting tone. 

“You do not wish a life for yourself with me!” he yelled, making you jump a bit “No one wishes it!”

“Astarion!” you yelled back not backing down, “I will stand with you between the heavens and the hells, I will tell you who you are, do you love me?” you said as you stood only a breath away from him.

“I love you!” he yelled, his voice wavering at the end. You could see unwanted tears welling up in his eyes. “From… from the moment you walked into camp I have loved you desperately; I cannot breathe when you are not near…. I love you Y/N… my heart calls your name.”

He looked at the ground, feeling weak for telling you everything he had tried desperately to keep bottled up and pushed down. He felt your hand cradle his face, bring him into a sweet kiss. He kissed you back fervently, but sobs escaped him after a moment.

“This… condition has been my shame for 200 years… this darkness... my burden for so long… and you… you are a light in that darkness.”

You ran your thumbs comfortingly over his sharp cheekbones, “Astarion, it's you and me. Just us. Together.”

Astarion scanned your face multiple times, looking for any indications of deception, yet all he found were kind eyes and a loving smile. His lips twitched upwards for the first time all night, Astarion pulled you back into a kiss, much deeper and full of passion. His arms enveloped you into a hug, your hands still holding his face. 

“I love you.” he breathed out just above a whisper.

“And I you, for eternity.” you reassured, kissing the tip of his nose. 

----------------

Naboo's Note:

Hello darlings, life has been a little busy lately but I wanted to give you a little snack of a drabble. I watched Bridgerton and all I could see in this scene was Astarion and Tav. All plot and rights belong to Bridgerton - idk how copyright works but I hope putting that keeps me from *cough* "legal issues". Anyyyyyy whoooooo - I hope you enjoy, I'll post again soon. Please comment, like, reblog or send me a request! Ilysm <3

[aureutr]

Glass Onion and COVID masks as character shorthand

I wanted to talk real quick about the scene where Benoit and our suspects first meet on the dock. The mask shorthand is not necessarily needed, we’ve been introduced to almost everyone already and can get a good idea of who’s an outright asshole and who might have more layers (ha). But I still appreciated it.

This is what I think about the scene in general, if you have a different interpretation I’d be interested to read it!

Benoit - Patterned cloth mask. This was not uncommon to see in late 2020 and beyond, but this is only May 2020. He (or his husband) likely sewed it himself. This is a conscientious, yet stylish, man who pays attention to what’s happening and adjusts his behavior accordingly.

Lionel - Black cloth mask. This mask does not provide adequate protection for others because he is wearing it over substantial facial hair. He’s a man of science who cares... but perhaps only so long as he does not have to make any personal sacrifices for it. In this case, it would be shaving his beard or finding a masking solution that forms a better seal. In other cases....? :)

Claire - Ill-fitting beige mask. Her nose is hanging out through half of the scene (also is that a tampon hanging out of it when she gets out of the car?). Similar to Lionel, she has values that she supposedly stands for. But she is either ignorant of the full picture or is willing to set those values aside when she thinks she needs to.

Birdie - Golden mesh “mask”. Birdie has already been shown as uncaring about COVID earlier in the film with her party (”it’s okay, they’re in my pod” my ass). Here she flaunts the fact that she is aware of what she should be doing, but is choosing not to. There is also an underlying thread of her general ignorance, as she foregoes anyone’s safety (even her own) for style and glamour.

Peg - Standard surgical mask, perfectly fitted, complete with twisted ear loops. She is meant to be bland and in the background, at least in-universe. Peg is imminently practical, and while she might like finer things (later in the movie she is visibly disappointed to be given a Solo cup when others receive personalized glasses), she is willing to forego them to achieve her goals. There is not much more that can be gleaned from her mask alone.

Duke and Whiskey - No masks at all. Duke is a far-right asshole with no regard for the safety of others, and little regard for his own. Whiskey does as he says, even though she later mentions that she doesn’t want her politics completely defined by his. She might not want that, but her actions speak louder. There is nothing subtle about Duke and little about Whiskey, they are as they appear.

Andi - No mask. But I’m willing to forgive this one in the name of movie magic, given that the shot is meant to be lingering and mysterious. At this point we don’t know anything about this character, but it seems unlikely that she’s in the same camp as Duke. Or, perhaps given that all of the other characters are masked (or not) in meaningful ways, her lack of mask is a subtle misdirection about Ms. Brand.

Under the cut find another quick note about the mysterious “puff gun”.This does contain spoilers for the end of the movie, so tread carefully

We learn at the end of the movie (though it’s not exactly subtle from the get-go) that Miles Bron is an utter moron. Explicitly, anything good he does is not his idea and many things he does on his own are idiot mistakes that others go with because of his power and influence (and money). Whatever this mysterious “you’re good” puff was, I seriously doubt it was a COVID cure of any sort.

My headcanon is that everyone who left “Pieceshite” Island alive dealt tested positive for COVID a few days later.

Also, I called her “Andi” and not “Helen” so as to not spoiler anyone. ;)

EDIT: Several people have pointed out that Lionel actually has a KN95 mask, not a regular cloth one. My bad! Thank you for correcting me. I still think my take otherwise works since his beard breaks the seal.

[ellievickstar]

River Side Confessions.

Summary: When you ask the shadow singer to help train your muscles, one thing leads to another, and you both end up together.

Request: N/A

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Warnings: Pranks, Azriel threatening the sanctity and secrecy of cookie stashes.

~*~*~*~*~

“When I said ‘train me to become stronger’, I really didn’t mean ‘drag me to the mountains and force me into a river’.” You were annoyed to say the least. Annoyed and sick of Azriel who was currently chuckling at you from a rock near by, standing tall as he looked down at you with those hazel eyes.

Earlier this week you had asked him if he was free to do some extra training with you because you felt like you were becoming rusty, especially since all the big wars and battles were over and all you dealt with were the occasional illyrian brute in the difficult camps.

In retrospect, you should have asked someone else. However, Azriel was significantly better than Cassian and if Cassian had gotten a hint that you wanted even a little extra training, cauldron forbid whatever he would have planned.

So maybe standing in a river trying to maintain your balance against the strong current was a decent situation, but that did not mean that you would not complain about it.

“This is training,” Azriel retorted, “With all the moping around since the war and utter lack of missions on a whole, your core muscles has probably weakened, and in hand-to-hand combat, that isn’t good, princess,” You glared at him harder.

“In simple words,” He continued, “You would be screwed if you were on a battle field right now.” Rolling you eyes, you hated that what he said was true. You had noticed that your muscles had weakened, though your technique was flawless, posture can be everything in close combat, and relying on your magic was not an option especially since Hybern had brought concoctions like Faebane into play.

Cursing at yourself, you despised how your heart seemed to leap and swoon at the nickname, and you hated how your stomach seemed to be in knots at the tired and sultry look Azriel was giving you.

Nesta would probably be screaming in your ear right now that this was some romance scene and the two of you would realise that you were both meant for each other.

Bullshit.

And maybe you should have known better than to fixate on your very real and long-term crush on the shadowsinger because just as you wanted to roll your eyes again at the thought of Nesta and her hopeless romantic novels, your foot slipped and you squealed as you fell into the water and was thrown against the rock that Azriel was standing on.

You heard Azriel curse as he grabbed you by your shoulder and hauled you out of the water.

“Shit shit shit,” Gritting his teeth he flew you to land and lay you down gently, you were bleeding from your head and you could feel the warm liquid trickle down the side of your head. However, instead of opening your eyes, you kept them closed, it was payback time.

You could feel Azriel’s hands travel up and down your body as he scanned you for injuries. “Open your damn eyes,” He bit out, it seemed like a command but you could hear his desperation. He probably knew that you wouldn’t die from such injuries and that waiting around for a bit would allow you to wake up. But you wanted to know what he would say…if there was anything to say.

“Dammit, Y/N please, you can’t be freaking unconscious from hitting a rock and if I actually hurt you I couldn’t live with myself, so open your bloody eyes,” He begged, but Azriel noticed the slight curve in your lips that you were trying to desperately hold back, and as he connected the dots he grinned.

“Well if you are unconscious I guess you don’t mind me eating your secret stash of cookies and also telling Cassian where you like to hide your stash,” Azriel drawled and you shot up so fast as you glared at him, hard. “You tell Cassian, that thief, about MY cookies, and I will break your kneecaps and pry them off with a crowbar,” You hissed. Chuckling, Azriel stroked a hand through your

“Calm down, Little Psycho, besides, you deserve it after scaring me like that,” He teased. Your heart skipped a beat at the nickname, but you rolled your eyes as you huffed. “If anyone is the psycho, it’s you. Everyone else knows that cookies are sacred,” Looking away, that was when you realised that you were pressed up against Azriel when you had sat up from your lying down ‘knocked out’ position you had curled up subconsciously to his warmth because the water on you skin made you feel unbearably cold.

As if he had also realised it at the same time, you could have sworn Azriel’s cheeks heated as you scooted away from me, bring your knees to your chest.

You both sat in silence for a while after that, and to your surprise, Azriel was the one who broke it first.

“I have a confession to make,” You could not believe your ears, did Azriel sound….awkward? Staring at him, you made a gesture with your hand, prompting him to continue. “I…I think your my mate,” Wait. Pause. WHAT!?

And that was the exact words you yelled out as you processed what Azriel had said casually like he was telling you he had beat up someone the other day over ice cream. Sure, you would have been surprised over that, but that is not how you tell someone that you are QUITE LITERALLY THEY’RE SOULMATE.

Little did you know, you had been babbling all this out and Azriel was holding back a wild grin.

Safe to say, that afternoon ended with you chasing Azriel with a random stick you had found on the river side, before you both return to Azriel’s home, and I think you can figure out what you both did next 🙂

~*~*~*~*~

A/N: I love how my fluff fics are like...super short and then my angsty fics are long as frick

taglist: @positivewitch

[workersolidarity]

[ 📹 Scenes from the results of the latest massacre by the Israeli occupation army after bombing the Salah family home in the Al-Shati Refugee Camp, west of Gaza City, killing 7 Palestinians and wounding another 20 others. ]

🇮🇱⚔️🇵🇸 🚀🏘️💥 🚨

ZIONIST ARMY MASSACRES EVER MORE PALESTINIANS, ISRAELI OCCUPATION PREPARING THIRD PHASE OF GENOCIDE

The Israeli occupation forces are preparing for a "third phase" of the genocidal war in the Gaza Strip, according to reporting in the Hebrew media.

According to anonymous political sources speaking with Israeli Channel-12 (N12), the fighting in the Gaza Strip will continue despite the disbandment of the so-called "Rafah Brigade", which this source says will pave the way for a third phase in the war, "all over the Gaza Strip."

The source told N12 that the "security establishment" of the Zionist entity is currently grappling with questions over whether it would be possible to "leverage their achievements" in the Gaza Strip for a hostage exchange deal, and whether it is possible to create new governing structures that could potentially threaten Hamas' political leadership.

"If Hamas thinks that the [occupation army] IDF will leave Gaza without compensation - it is making a bitter mistake. The IDF will stop the fighting only with an agreement."

"[Hamas political leader Yahya] Sinwar is mistaken - Israel will continue to operate militarily in Gaza and strongly."

Additionally, the source told N12 that the Zionist army were "in a state of combat and emergency," adding that "The fighters are determined despite the attrition, but there is another problem it faces - the dissolution of the Knesset on the agenda."

According to N12:

"From the point of view of the politicians, the war may be over, but not from the point of view of the army. Issues such as the "draft exemption law" should be dealt with even before the ceasefire And the IDF needs tools in order to continue fighting."

Following that, N12 acknowledges that there is "increasing concern" at the United Nations about the humanitarian catastrophe unfolding before the eyes of the entire world.

N12 quickly denies any responsibility on the part of the Zionist entity, blaming instead the fact that the Israeli occupation forces now control all the border crossings in the Strip, before quickly denying what the whole world can see live-streamed on a daily basis.

N12 then goes on to make the mind-numbing claim that some photos they allege show Deir al-Balah with food has somehow "proven" there is no shortage of food anywhere in Gaza, this despite the constant barrage of photos and videos showing starving children and the affirmation by UN agencies such as UNICEF and the World Food Programme that contradict the occupation's authorities.

Meanwhile, the Israeli occupation army continued with its war of extermination in the Gaza Strip on Friday.

After invading Rafah, while simultaneously invading the most densely populated areas of the northern Gaza Strip for several weeks, hundreds of thousands of Palestinians were forced into homes and camps in the Central Gaza Governate.

Now the Israeli occupation army bombs wherever the Palestinian population are corralled, including central Gaza, bombing their homes, tents, schools and shelters.

In just one of several of the latest horrendous massacres, on Friday, the Israeli occupation forces (IOF) bombed a residential house in the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, killing two Palestinians and wounding at least 12 others, while heavy Israeli tank shelling hammered several areas of the Maghazi and Bureij Camps.

Earlier, according to rescue crews which spoke with the Palestinian media, the decomposing bodies of three children, along with their mother, all from the Al-Rai family, were recovered from under the rubble of their home after Zionist warplanes bombed the house two days ago.

Additionally, another Palestinian civilian was killed, and several others wounded, after occupation warplanes bombed sites in Deir al-Balah, also in central Gaza.

Similar to central Gaza, after letting many civilians return to their damaged and destroyed homes north of Gaza, the occupation army renewed its airstrikes and artillery shelling of Gaza City.

In one example, IOF warplanes on Thursday bombed a residential home in the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, killing 8 civilians and wounding a number of others.

South of Gaza, witnesses reported that the Zionist army continues deliberately and systematically detonating residential buildings in the Saudi neighborhood, west of Rafah, while at the same time, Israeli artillery shelling hammered the Nuseirat Camp, in the central Gaza Strip, in addition to the occupation's Merkava tanks which fire into neighborhoods east of Khan Yunis.

In further assaults, the Israeli occupation forces launched several air raids on the town of Al-Fokhari, east of Khan Yunis, killing three civilians; Yassin Muhammad al-Amour, Mahmoud Adel al-Najjar, and his son Adel.

IOF fighter jets also bombarded two homes, in the Al-Tuffah and Al-Shujaiya neighborhoods, east of Gaza City, resulting in a number of casualties, while occupation artillery shelling pummeled the Al-Zaytoun neighborhood, southeast of Gaza City, as well as into the north of the Nuseirat Camp in central Gaza, and several other areas, including the city of Deir al-Balah, the town of Al-Masdar, and the Al-Maghazi Camp.

The genocidal occupation forces also opened fire towards the eastern border areas of the city of Khan Yunis, south of Gaza, in the vicinity of the European Gaza Hospital, southeast of the city, while an occupation helicopter opened fire towards neighborhoods east of Rafah.

Further, occupation fighter jets continued with several more raids on the city of Rafah, while simultaneously, the occupation army continued with their destruction of the Saudi neighborhood of the city.

As a result of the Israeli occupation's ongoing war of extermination in the Gaza Strip, the endlessly rising death toll in this live-streamed genocide now exceeds 37'431 Palestinians killed, including at least 10'000 women and over 15'000 children, while another 85'653 others have been wounded since October 7th, 2023.

June 21st, 2024.

#source1

#source2

#source3

#videosource

@WorkerSolidarityNews

[broadwayfangirl222]

I don't usually comment on this stuff, like at most I'll just find post I agree with and reblog it but I wanted to share my own thoughts on this:

In light of the leaks and all the spoilers and people commenting on the first two episodes. I'll just say, the anti/critical crowd has lost any and all credibility to me. I don't even mean this in a disparaging or negative way, I just legitimately can not trust their takes anymore. This isn't because I'm a stan who can't stand anyone not liking something they like. I don't care if you like vivziepop's shows or not. Like or don't like whatever you want The reason why I can't can't trust anti/critical takes anymore is because I've seen the most bad faith criticism and takes. I've seen it for the episodes I've seen so since I can't/won't watch the two hazbin episodes yet I'm gonna guess it'll be about the same for those. Like just off the top of my head i've seen takes from ciritics that are like: Somehow it's bad writing for Ozzie to make a whole point about consent, that it's somehow bad for the angels to be similar to the demons (which is the whole point, the point is they're not so different from the demons and the angels are massive hypocrites), Stella never physically abused Stolas 'cause he caught her hand before she could hit him, that somehow this scene between two disabled characters is somehow bad:

not even "it was bad representation because (x,y,z reasons)" Just...it was somehow bad to have this in the episode at all and how the writing for this would've apparently been better if the kid dealt with ableism or was mistreated before this.

And these are from people who at least watch the show/know the basic info about the show since I could be here all day if we go into the misinformation and flat out lies that muddy up the water. Not to mention the harassment being flung at both fans and people working on the shows. I've seen antis/criticals start attacking the people behind prehistoric planet and how the show is now ruined because Vivziepop made a post simply saying she was a fan of it. I've also seen people admitting to lying about working for Spindlehorse so they can lie about how bad the working conditions were. I would genuinely be willing to hear criticism of both the shows and crew if so much of it wasn't obviously done purely in bad faith and there were way less people willing to literally lie and fabricate things to make the shows and crews seem worse than they actually are.

Again I don't care if anyone likes the shows and crew or not. Like I said earlier everyone's entitled to their opinion and nothing/no one is perfect. I just get frustrated about (the lack of) media literacy and care about the very real world consequences that can come from some of the stuff being said/posted. For there to be any kind of actual conversation about this, and not just two camps of people yelling at each other, first, the harassment just needs to stop all together. No one deserves harassment, especially over something as frivolous as a tv show. Next, we need to get rid of misinformation especially when it relates to real people. Actually look into the info you're spreading or see being talked about, make corrections and admit if something ended up being wrong/misinformed.

[bonkbobl]

make a deal or play a game

ROOSE BOLTON X READER

a/n: guys im gonna be so fr with yall i legitimately dont know where this energy came from but here you go. this contains possibly the longest sex scene i've ever written in my entire history of fic writing and i did get a little carried away. like a little more than carried away. the keys just dont stop click clacking

summary: You find out Roose has been plotting against your King but you know the Northern cause cannot survive with the North divided between the King's loyalists and a Bolton-Karstark army backing their martyred liege lords. You and Lord Bolton need each other more than either of you would care to admit, grasping for power over each other.

warning: DUBCON!!!! as in the dubbiest of cons, power dynamics, forced marriage, roose bolton is secretly a perverted old man, EDGING like a LOT OF EDGING, wet humping??/thigh fucking, dacyrphilia, wait girl he's literally like obsessed with you eeeeeeeee

You were always Robb Starks most trusted advisor, and who was to question why. A ward, offered by one of the Starks most loyal vassal houses for the honor of have you join their family as a ward. Your father practically begged them to raise you when your Lady Mother succumbed to the failed birthing of your baby brother. He hoped one day you may reach a higher station that you'd have been afforded, and how better to reach that than through the Starks. Your father shared a great great, a few times over, great grand parent with Ned, and ever honorable, the Lord Stark agreed to take you in.

But its difficult for a woman to rise up in the world, even harder still, in the midst of a war. Men did not like to make room for women at war but Robb was like your brother. He trusted you. And he trusted your opinion on people. It's because while the Starks held that honor must be of paramount importance, you understood not everyone held that same principle. You make sure Robb doesn't trust everyone as he trusts you.

Trust is a funny thing because you could trust someone with your life but you may not trust them to cook a chicken correctly. You may trust someone to lead a garrison of ten thousand for you and not trust them with a knife in close quarters without a guard behind you. Trust was what you dealt in — advising Robb on deals that he was to make with other Lords, even so far as traveling on his behalf.

Deals, and diplomacy — charms, and words. That was your strength.

Robb Stark insisted that Catelyn take you to the twins to aid in negotiations with Walder Frey, he deferred to you to send letters to Renly and Stannis Baratheon, you were even the one who had sent out the rallying cry at the very beginning of his great war to all his Bannermen. Everyone knew it. He was the brain, you were the mouth. The pretty, cunning, biting mouth of the young wolf.

—————

One issue you were never able to resolve was Roose Bolton. He was cold, calculating, and distant. Though he seemed to care deeply for the Northern cause, you had little to believe he was truly as passionate about Robb as King.

It began with certain issues in which you would honestly take Roose's side instead of Robb's and since you saw Roose as an ideological ally, you would shoot glances at him after Robb declared he'd have his way after all. In those moments, a bitter gaze that lingered a few seconds too long on the King in the North roused suspicion in you.

It wasn't serious. You're sure its the frustration than anyone would feel being brushed aside so many times. But as the social tension within Robbs camp rose, you felt that you must do something about it.

You don't trust Walder Frey. He wouldn't so easily brush aside a slight as heavy as the King in the North refusing his daughter's hand in marriage. He wouldn't trade it so carelessly, not even for a claim in the Riverlands. The fact was that a young boy had made him a promise and quickly threw it all away the moment he got what he needed.

Frey's resentment of all the Paramount liege lords in Westeros already made any alliance between you fragile. Compound it with more insult and well, you just didn't know what you expected from this.

So when you saw a rave flying even in the general direction of the twins, you shot it down.

The Bolton seal, you noted, as you inspected the short scroll.

Tomorrow the white sun will illuminate the darkness clouding your castle. We will dine on fishes and the hour of the wolf will drown out in history. Ensure final preparations are made.

R.B.

As you read it, you could feel blood draining from your face and you really should have gone to Robb immediately but the need to find out what plot was brewing overtook reason. When the men were drinking and dining, you snuck into Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

"Letters, letters..." You muttered. You had already checked his desk but of course the man isn't dense enough to store proof of treachery in the drawer of a desk where any young squire may stumble upon them. So you were rifling through everything, casting aside bulks of chainmail, furs, coats, anything.

As you did, your mind ran endlessly about what might happen. So the Boltons and the Freys. Eliminate them and you're forced to then castrate your own army. We were already outnumbered greatly. Losing the Boltons is a blow we may not survive even if we survive this bloody wedding.

And the reference to the white sun illuminating the darkness was not so easily lost on you. You weren't sure, but coupled with the rising tensions with the Karstark men who currently stood one third of Robb's entire army, you could take a gander to why the white sun of their sigil was mentioned in Roose Bolton's death letter.

"Looking for something?"

Roose's voice cut clear through the room, it even felt like it sliced right through your heart. Well die tonight or die tomorrow night it makes no difference to you. But it makes all the difference to the North.

You should have gone to Robb first. Your foolishness.

You straightened up and flattened the blankets on his cot down. "Just tidying up. Waiting for you, my lord," And you took a deep breath, braving a sultry look on your face before turning around.

"Me?" Roose asked, pure amusement in his voice. You'd have to work to really get him to believe you.

"All this talk of weddings, it's all I hear now. Everyone, everywhere," You hoped your hesitation wasn't visible as you draped your arms around Roose's neck and stared into his eyes.

"And why are you here, my lady, waiting for me."

You sighed, careful not to drop the ruse. Of all men why did it have to be Roose Bolton. Any other man, after not touching a woman for years, wouldn't have questioned the logic of your seduction and you'd at least have a chance to hit him over the head with a lantern, maybe a knife if you're lucky. But Roose hed his gaze with you evenly. Challenging you.

How to get him to trust you...

"Isn't it obvious?" You tilted your head, staring with the biggest pleading eyes you could muster. And you looked at his lips, just a moment of hesitation overtaking you before you leaned in and slowly molded your mouth to his.

Your heart went wild as he kissed you back, a mix of emotions forming. You were still scared for your life but you were also happy that your trick seemed to be working. And under the two dominant emotions, there was a slight hint of something else at play. You chalked up to the scandalousness of it all. It wasn't your main worry, but as a proper lady you were raised to not be caught in close quarters with another unmarried man, especially if you were doing salacious things — or if it looked like you were about to. It was also the first time you'd ever kissed a man.

Not the greatest conditions, but alas, you could care less about a tender kiss or even a few. You just need a distraction and its working. Roose kissed you back so fiercly it made you dizzy. So dizzying that you hadn't realized he reached into your pockets.

When the kiss broke, you stared up at him, his face composed and hard as stone, almost as if it hadn't affected him at all. But his lips were swollen and he stared at you, eyes betraying him to look down at your equally puffy lips and you smirked.

You made sure to hold his gaze and you let your hand trail down his front, teasing just above his crotch. "Celebrate the happy betrothal with me?"

Roose cracked a smile and nodded, a sarcastic hum rumbling from him, "Your nerves give you away, my lady." Your heart sank. "You quiver like a virgin playing at being a whore. It was almost convincing, but..." He held up the letter that you had stolen from the raven.

You let the dread overtake your face and you ran.

But you couldn't even make two steps before Roose pulled you by your wrist, back into his chest.

You struggled for a few seconds but stilled as soon as you felt cool metal under your chin.

"A deal," You spoke quickly, equally as quickly deciding you really didn't like the feeling of a cold blade pressing against the neck, that you very much did like.

"A deal?" Roose breathed the question into your ear. He was so obviously not scared or even wary of you. And you scrambled to keep the upper hand.

"I could always scream instead. You could kill me, make some excuse to cover yourself up, but that excuse wont pass, not for our King's childhood friend. You could run. You'd be dead within the fortnight if they caught you." You hoped that you weren't just spewing bullshit, "The camp is so dense. How likely are you to make it to Frey before one of Robbs catches you first? And your plan would fail. Robb would know something's wrong."

He was permitting you to continue, so you did. He wasn't so much as urging you to continue but rather, watching, knowing you would.

"I could offer your head to our king. But I imagine you wouldn't enjoy that very much. So many options but I propose the best one — you could turn on Frey, tell Robb. Warn him about Karstark, too. Wouldn't you much rather become the new Lord of the Twins than deal with a petty mess?"

Roose considered it for a couple seconds before releasing you. You're right that making you disappear would be a little more annoying that simply a petty mess. He knows he can't just let you go either. He doesn't trust you.

Whats to stop you from running to tell Robb as soon as he let you go anyway? Then he remembers that his soldiers make up the largest portion of Robb Starks army aside from the Karstarks. And that there was his leverage. That's why you were trying to reason with him. Which really means, despite everything, he could even go as far to say that he's the one with the upper hand in this situation.

You, apparently unwilling to inform Robb of his treachery, asking him to warn your King and continue to fight by his side, all you had was a secret that only the two people in this room know. Not a very good hand. You don't even have proof anymore. Roose walked over to his bed, pulling a stack of letters out from a slit in the mattress.

You sighed, kicking yourself. You were so close. And you watched him, walking to the fire at the foot of his bed with his eyes trained on you. You watched helplessly hope was scorched in the flames.

Your heart was pounding out of your chest and only now had you permitted yourself to notice it. Sitting at the edge of his bed, You wiped your forehead.

Roose chuckled. Clever girl, weighing logic and strategy, no trouble following the shifting power between you two. You knew you needed him. You knew Robb needed him. You knew the odds of winning this war was slim already now that the Tyrells had joined the fray. You knew if you gave him a reason, he might slit your little throat tonight. And sure that meant Robb might get the hint not to attend the wedding, but the Northern army would still be crushed within half a year.

And perhaps you valued that pretty little head of yours above all else.

Now, Roose took interest, evaluating you with a new eye, "What is your proposal?"

"You go, tell Robb of the plans but tell him you intended on being a turncoat this entire time."

"And what do I receive in exchange for this act of mercy."

You chuckled, "My many thanks, redemption in the eyes of the Gods," you offered sardonically, knowing the answer would come as too dismissive. You could tell Roose wasn't impresssed, "I can still tell the King, my lord, if it pleases you.

Roose, ever perplexed by your mind, drew closer but stowed his knife back in his holster, behind him. He made it so that you had to tilt your head up to look at him. "Do not think for a second that you might have the upper hand in this position, my lady. I say that, not as a threat, but as advice. Know when you do not have the upper hand. Know when to serve."

You glared up at him, scanning his eyes, baffled by his audacity. You are— "I am a—"

"Stark Ward. But not a Stark. If you go to Robb, you have no proof. I might have my own story. You and Greyjoy, bitter that you'd never truly be accepted into the Stark family plotted the demise of the King in the North, who I so faithfully served up until now. There is no reason for Robb to view me with less trust than you... The King may grow weary with paranoia. First his brother... then he doesn't know to trust his closest advisor or his sister. "

"But you---"

"I am guilty. And you have no evidence. You are asking for a favor. Tell me, what difference does it make if the King dies tomorrow or three months later on the Battlefield without my men to back him." he questioned, enunciating each word clearly, staring down at you.

You cursed yourself for sitting. The scare was not over, you should have realized. Even if the cold blade was no longer physically at your neck, Roose Bolton still had a knife to you.

"What do you want?"

He chuckled, "One day I will have a need for you. And that day, you will obey. You owe me your life, my lady. And the King's life."

You glared at the ground, wishing you could say something of his arrogance, "And Robb?"

"I will tell him of the plans. And you will not tell him the truth. Any time you think you want to tell the young wolf what we discussed in these chambers remember that it is your pretty neck and your reputation that may be in my hands." Roose gave you one last look, then whispered, "Go on now. Back to your tent."

You stood, meeting him with one last glare.

He smiled sweetly at you, nodding, "I thoroughly enjoyed the display."

—————

Your promise to Roose Bolton loomed over you every day for a month. You spent your days watching his actions closely to know when he was plotting anything, but he's yet to step blatantly out of turn.

He was showered with honors for being savior at the Red Wedding, not only becoming the official Lord presiding over the Twins, but he was given a large portion of the remaining Karstark forces, which thankfully very few deserted the King in the North after the victory at the Twins. Roose sent his Bastard to serve in his stead at Karhold, which was now under close surveillance for their treachery.

You paled to hear these developments. Because in truth you still failed to trust Roose Bolton though you hoped these gifts from the King in the North sweetened the pot enough for him to follow through with his promise to you. You simply shivered at the obscene amount of power that was showered to him.

So long as he retained the upper hand you would continue to be unsettled. You wish he would just tell you what he wants from you quickly so that you may get it over with. Really, something you think he just enjoys watching you squirm.

"Milk of the Poppy," Talisa said calmly.

And you moved to argue with your queen but hearing the screams of agony of the man being tended you, you decided there was a time and place.

The queen finished up with him quickly and turned back to you. That's when you started, "My Queen, I'm sure you're tired of hearing. And I, more than anyone else here understand your concern for the wellbeing of unnamed Lannister boy-soldiers."

Talisa, laughed, ducking her head in preparation for your words.

"But truly... Milk of the Poppy?" You pleaded, "I know it may seem cruel but it's really more of a luxury in wartime than anything. Perhaps that can be saved for the men fighting for our King."

Your queen met your eyes again but then at something behind you. Turning, you saw Roose speaking with Robb. Robb glanced at you, spoke something back to the Dreadlord and patted his arm before making his way to you. Roose spared you a glance before walking in the other direction, toward his tent.

"I'll take your words into consideration, my lady," Talisa reassured, "I understand. Thank you for stating your opinion calmly and without judgement."

You smiled in sympathy, knowing the men in the army could be quite rough around the edges with their opinions.

Talisa started again, taking some time to gather her tools "My husband is coming. I think he wants to speak with you."

Robb came up to the two of you, placing a hand on the small of Talisa's back, pressing a kiss to her cheek and whispering something short in her ear.

"I'll leave you to it then," Talisa said sweetly and left to find more sick to tend to.

As soon as she did, Robb's features were cast with a stern seriousness. You evaluated it, wondering if it had anything to do with Roose Bolton's conversation with him just moments before.

"What is it?" You asked.

Robb sighed, "You don't have to agree. You can think on it for a while. I know it can be daunting seeing as I'm almost sure he's older than father."

"What is it?" You pressed urgently.

"Roose Bolton asked for my blessing to take your hand in marriage."

Your heart sank, the full weight of the deal you made with Roose falling on your shoulders.

"I gave him my blessing as I have no reason not to. But I warned him that I cannot force you to be amenable." With a laugh, Robb tried to cheer you up but to no avail, "I even warned him you shared Arya's disdain for marriage from a young age."

You simply nodded, expressionless and quickly muttered something to dismiss yourself and you ran straight for Roose Bolton's tent.

—————

The route to Roose's tent felt quick, like you had stormed off from Robb and landed right at his door. Your anger bubbled at your throat and you could hardly wait before storming in and yelling at the man sat at his desk.

"So that's it?" You asked, bewildered, "That's how you aim to make me repay my debt?"

Roose didn't even look up at you as he continued to write on a small strip of parchment. "It seems with my sudden acquisition of the Twins, even if I legitimize my bastard, it will not be enough to sustain my achievements. I'm in dire need of heirs. You owe me a favor."

You were speechless for a second and you felt a laugh be punch out of your chest, the mere ridiculousness — the scale of this favor. "A favor, my lord, usually doesn't include a lifelong bind. A favor, I would imagine is a one and done type of deal." Marching to the side of his table, you attempted to command his attention, "Was the twins not enough? Was having your bastard installed as acting Lord of Karhold not enough?"

Roose looked up at you, calmly speaking. "I'd like to remind you, my lady, that had I not warned the King in the North of the Freys and Karstarks treachery, I'd have been named Warden of the North by the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms."

Closing your mouth, you huffed, amazed by this mans blatant selfishness. Titles.

"The Twins, and temporary reign over the Karstark maneuvers pales in comparison to what I had abandoned."

"Well you our deal wasn't for me to make that loss up to you, it was so you could keep your head and remain loyal to King Robb." You shook your head, "I wont do it. If you're the pragmatic, power hungry man you claim to be, why don't you plot your way into some other lady's bed — someone who could give you another stronghold to place your seed upon? I'd just be a cow to breed, nothing else to gain from there"

"A pretty cow to breed with a respectful name and no brothers to take your family home. I'd say you're as good a match as any."

You gasped at his blatant disrespect, blood rising to your head, and you landed a firm slap to his face. You even went for seconds but he grabbed your wrist firmly. You tried to pull it away but he wouldn't let you.

"Of course, we'll have to do something about that temper of yours once we are wed," He warned, pulling you a little harshly — not too rough but enough to make you fall forward and catch yourself on his table. He stood, circling around the table, as casually as he could managed but he did adjust his jaw from the slap you landed on him. "Your spirit and smart mouth have done you well in the past but only when they are in company with your wits. Don't go losing those wits and getting yourself in trouble. As I'm sure you are aware, there are dangerous men lurking in times of war."

"Dangerous men like you," You pushed yourself off the table and faced him again, crossing your arms, "I owe you my life. What happens if I decide I'd rather die than marry you?"

"Then what will be protecting your King, if not your life?"

That took any retort out of your mouth, as this was not an avenue you'd expected him to take. You stuttered dumbly for a moment. "M-my King? What of him? They—... House Frey and the Karstarks have been dealt with. You—"

"I can still betray him. He trusts me now more than ever. If I write to Tywin Lannister detailing how the plan had been spoiled and I explain that I'd counted our losses and regained the trust of the King so that we may try again well, that'd be easy enough," He stared down at you and said the next part clearly, "You are the only thing stopping me from doing so. If you'd rather die..."

You shook your head at him, scowling. The entire North, dependent on what you say to this man. "I don't want to marry you," you stood your ground as well as you could, "Anything else, I'll do."

Roose looked to the ground next to you, "Well then," He sighed.

Then he glanced back at you, giving you a lazy once over.

He sighed again, this time more sure, straightening his back and that's when you knew he'd had an idea.

You didn't like him getting ideas. You don't like his mind and the thoughts he spins.

"Another deal. A game, more like."

You didn't trust the slight tinge of a smile. Really you just didn't trust or like this man. Every moment you're in his tent feels like a gamble. "What game?" You especially hate the idea of playing his games. Right into the bear trap, it felt like.

Where you excelled in proposing deals that suited the interests of both sides perfectly, the Boltons were infamous for creatively constructing games that were rigged from the start, in their favor.

"Part of it is that you have to figure out the rules," He smiled.

You should have known the odds were against you. They always were when it came to Roose Bolton. How does one negotiate with a man like him?

Your attention was drawn back to him when his hand came up to the pin that secured your cloak to your shoulders. He undid the on on the right, then the one on your left. And you could do nothing but watch it fall to the floor, heart racing, because suddenly you understood.

Why did you have to say "Anything"?

Of course... You watched him, his clenched jaw, barely holding back from just ripping your clothes off, and you realized: Roose Bolton is just like any other man. He only wants one thing. Married to you or not.

One and done, you wondered, Is that better?

He pulled the laces securing your dress in the front, watching his eyes greedily take in your chest as more of it was exposed. Soon, your dress hugged your waist and shoulders, barely covering your top half.

You smacked his hand away as it reached under the fabric draping at your shoulders.

The silent question in your eyes was What the fuck do you think you're doing?

Roose simply chuckled softly, “Letting me see your tits is not as bad as marrying me, is it, my lady?” Dark intentions coated his syrupy smooth voice and it made you shiver.

Breathing a long, angry sigh, you looked up at him, “I could just kill you.”

“Even if you managed, your king desperately needs Bolton men. They'll only follow a Bolton,” He spoke matter of factly, tugging your sleeves so they fell off your shoulders.

He's right. The Starks and the Boltons had no love for each other. Centuries of hate. Many Karstarks remained loyal to Robb because of the history of love between the houses. There was no such history between the Starks and Boltons.

The cool air hit your exposed skin. “Trust me,” Roose smiled satisfied with the sight before him, taking a firm handful of your breast, caressing over it and pinching the nipple as he let go, “You’d rather handle me than deal with my bastard.”

You shivered and took several steps back from him and his touch, and moved to cover your breasts with your hands as well as you could.

You’d definitely heard about his bastard. From what you knew, he was a more unhinged, less predictable version of Roose, more willing to get his hands dirty, more eager to act. You stood and let Roose’s eyes rake over your body, disgust bubbling at your throat.

“So conveniently, my best option is to either marry you or let you fuck me and ruin any marriage prospects in my future?”

“Who said anything about fucking?” Roose raised his brow, playing innocent, “I just want to see you, touch you... feel you touch me. I wont put anything inside your cunt unless you ask me to.”

You narrowed your eyes at him, you dont trust his mercy, especially the last clause. Unless you ask him to. Why in seven hells would you ask him to? “What do you want me to do?”

Roose smirked widely and the look should have terrified you — you’ve never seen such twisted joy on a persons face before, especially not stoic Roose Bolton.

He stepped closer to you once more, hands coming to cradle your face and neck gently. Your hands instinctively followed, grabbing his wrists cautiously. Though a hint of that devious smirk lingered, he looked at you with gentleness between his eyes, “Lets start with another kiss,” He said, condescension lacing his voice, “seeing as my lady was so eager the last time we saw each other.”

You couldnt help but fall a little under his spell, eyebrows furrowing as you tried to figure out why you felt dizzy with him so close to you, cold eyes darting all over your face. Why your mind whirred with the memory of how hungrily he responded to you last time you were in his tent. You wondered if perhaps you had sparked something in him. If that was why he was so insistent.

You nodded softly, so soft that upon thinking on it, you wondered if it was even noticable. But Roose had been watching you closely for any sign of submission and he closed the gap between you before you could move to do anything else.

He noted how you tensed just as his lips met yours and he carefully took your hands, guiding them to wrap around his neck. You tried to relax into it as much as possible and kiss him back, but it proved difficult until his arms came around and pulled you closer to him.

His bare hand on your back made you jolt and he chuckled deeply, the rumble of it making you shy away. "Roose," You started, unsure of what you would say. That you already need a break?

Roose ignored you, hands coming back up to cup your breasts, "Fucking gorgeous. And you've been right in front of me this entire time," He spoke so lowly you almost thought he was muttering to himself. But his eyes trained on you told you different.

He leaned down the few extra centimeters to meet your lips again, this time toying with your hardened buds as he did. Your hand shot up to grab his wrist but he just pinched in response. You squealed, lips parting from his but he kept you held close.

"Behave."

You whined, glaring at him, your dignity clinging to any sliver of hope it had of remaining intact.

Roose glared right back and took your hand, leading you toward his cot. He sat you on his lap and again, turned his attention toward your chest after kissing you a few times. This time, his lips wrapped around the bud on your right while his hand toyed with the other.

You tensed as a moan threatened to escape you, especially with his tongue circling around the way it did. When he sucked and continued that technique at the same time it was difficult not to enjoy. To be honest, you didn't even know a man could enjoy a woman's body like this — so shamelessly lewd. But he promised no penetration. You assume that means he deigns to make use of your body in any other way.

It was quickly proving to be too much. You grunted a few times when moans caught in your throat, gutteral noises and sighs to keep the really embarrassing noises down. But even that was wearing thin. Your hand shot up to his head and tugged at his hair. Your back arched into him, body twitching when he'd trigger a sensitive nerve.

And before you could stop it, you sighed something a little too audible, too close to a full moan. You began trying to push his head away.

Roose grabbed your hands firmly, pushing them away and gave you a small nip as a warning. You yelped, staring at him incredulously. Then he switched to your more neglected nipple.

This same torture continued for far too long, but the result was worse than the torture itself, because you couldn't deny the pool forming in your small cloths. The pleasure of him toying with your sensitive buds just goes straight down there. You can't help it.

"My lord, h-how much more."

"I'll play with you until I'm satisfied, darling," He answered cooly, "Don't ask again."

You nodded, looking at his intense, watchful eyes. And he crashed his lips on yours again. This time, he reached beneath all the heavy layers of your skirts and pulled your breeches down. You helped him kick them off.

When the pads of his finger met your cunt, they circled around in search but he cut his search off, chuckling at what he found. You pulled away from his lips, hiding in his shoulder because you already knew what he was laughing at.

"Look at my little whore. Never been touched like this, have you? You're going to let me ruin you for your King?"

You groaned, feeling his fingers gather your slick, then he found a bundle of nerves. It felt like when he was licking your nipples— the way it tingled down there— but he was touching the exact source of it. Sometimes you'd cross your legs or gyrate your hips against a pillow and feel the same way but Wow you always thought that sensation was coming from something deeper inside you. Turns out its right there. Right at the front of your vulva.

And Roose knew. You gripped his knee and spread your legs for him as he toyed with you in ways you hadn't even known to toy with yourself. Your lips fell open but you wouldn't allow a single sound to come out, though you knew this would be far more difficult to bear than what he was doing previously.

Your body would twitch and tense up under his ministrations. Something was building within you. You'd felt this kind of feeling, grinding against soft pillows, but then the feeling would die after a little while. You'd walk away satisfied with the morsel of pleasure.

But with Roose, it wasn't going anywhere. It kept building and building.

Eventually, you thought that perhaps an end to the build was near but he diverted his fingers, playing with your opening instead, gathering more slick.

You calmed yourself, taking a few breaths to calm yourself. You looked down to see Roose staring at you, eyes hooded with a dark cloud of lust, lips parted, just taking you in like you were the most interesting, captivating thing he's ever seen.

His finger teased your entrance, pushing slightly and you ripped your gaze away from his intense eyes, studying you. Gods... Oh gods. You rolled your hips but he pulled his hand away finally.

Roose wiped his hand on your skirt. "Do you like being touched by me?"

You refused to answer, turning your head and looking anywhere else. Weakly, you shook your head no.

"Don't lie," he scolded.

You forced yourself to meet his eyes, brows furrowed, confusion behind your eyes, wondering how your body could betray you like this. But its just biology. Simple as that.

"You came close."

"Close to what?"

That made Roose smirk wider, a twinge of surprise and excitement, "Close to a release that some women can achieve while fucking." Roose took a second to compose himself before continuing, "A release that you won't experience tonight, unless it's around my cock."

Fear filled you, "You said you wouldn't."

"No, I wont," Roose cooed, a false comfort, "Not until you ask."

"I wont."

"We'll see, darling," He moved his arms from you and nudged your behind a little, "Up. Take off your dress."

You stood and obeyed, albeit hesitantly. He also took to stripping himself, but left on his small clothes. You, having already rid yourself of your breeches, were bare as the day you were born once you took off your dress.

Roose, with a hand to your waist, pulled you into him, standing in between his legs and he pressed a kiss to your stomach, trailing down to your dripping cunt. You shuddered at the thought of his tongue circling around that spot the way it circled your nipple. You don't think you could bear that.

Unfortunately for you, that was exactly what Roose had in mind. He lifted your leg so that your foot rested on the edge of his bed, which sat low on the ground. It's height provided the perfect angle for him to duck under and lick a flat stripe over your clit.

Your cunt convulsed and you were embarrassed for it because unlike your moans, you could not hide the reactions of your cunt as easily. His tongue dipped a little further, barely dipping into your hole to taste you and collect your essence on his tongue.

He groaned into you, the vibration making you bite your lip. He feasted on you like a starved man, wrapping his lips around your sensitive bundle of nerves and gently shaking his head as he sucked. Each time he flicked his tongue sent shocks through your body and you'd buck your hips against his face.

Even just the image that you were met with when you looked down— Roose Bolton burying his face into those parts...

If him licking your nipples was considered lewd, you didn't know how to describe this correctly. You hadn't even realized that men did this in the first place. Frankly it felt like something a man like Roose would normally consider to be too debasing and submissive.

There was nothing submissive about the way Roose licked up your juices. This was a man who was confident he held all the power and you'd be stupid to underestimate him.

Whines, real wanton whines pushed through your throat, filling the open air of his tent and that only seemed to spur him on. You submitted to it, feeling his hand come under your buttock and his other wrap around your waist. He then hoisted you up in the air and gently laid you down on the bed.

Roose not so gently spread your legs and settled between them, continuing his treatment on you.

Again the coil in your core tightened impossibly tight and just as you thought you'd reach some higher pleasure. He pulled away, peppering kisses to your thigh to calm you. You breathed heavily, staring at the ceiling.

This time, having him stop was frustrating. You cant lie. And you had a feeling you were in for a rather long night. Your hand twitched, almost wanting to give yourself the pleasure that he refused but you knew Roose would not let you. This was his game.

The game where you win if you steel through and manage to out last him.

You whimpered, legs quaking softly when he carefully bent and flicked his tongue against your clit again. Even, at this point, the feeling of his stubbled cheeks brushing your inner thigh was almost too sensitive to bear. Your body was responding to everything.

Soon you were bucking against his face, cursing the gods, and repeating the process again and again.

He learned what you liked quickly and tried everything under the sun. Dipping his tongue into you, he brought you just to the precipice of something amazing by fucking you with nothing but his mouth.

Once you had settled from the near high a fourth time, Roose pulled your body closer to him and through his lustblown eyes. He whispered to you as his fingers came to tease your entrance again, "May I?"

You looked down at him, biting your lip and you wanted to say yes. Your entire being begged for it. But your pride told you to say, "Do I have a choice?"

He merely chuckled at the loss of any desire to argue within you, and he plunged two thick fingers into your cunt. You cried out, the stretch somewhat shocking to you. But you were so wet that it really just felt nice, despite being foreign.

The noise you made was something you didn't even think could be produced within you. You moved to cover your face, laughing into them neverously because holy shit you need to get a hold of yourself. You need to. You've never felt this weak in the hands of someone else.

His fingers filled you nicely but you dreaded to admit it wasn't enough. And you didn't like how stiff they felt inside you. Something softer might feel more like it belongs. something longer and thicker... Something like—

Roose growled and that noise brought you out of your trance. You stared at him for a second, his eyebrows knit together frustratedly. His fingers did their work inside your cunt while his mouth continued to torture your clit.

"Fuck! Ahhh... fuck fuck—" You groaned, gritting your teeth together as you tried to keep yourself up to watch him.

You breathlessly but sort of victoriously took note of his clear frustration. You were proving to be more stubborn than he bargained for, you assume. But he was persistent too. There was no mistaking who had the power here.

He groaned, pumping his fingers into you. It was difficult not to imagine how it would feel when you finally gave in to him. So he let you know, "Your cunt loves me, my lady. You feel it clenching around me. You're so desperate for more. All you have to do is ask."

"Eat shit," you choked out. You meant to say it more confidently, less weak and shuddery but it created the same effect within Roose as it would have either way.

His lips returned, doing only what garnered the strongest reactions from you. And you were tumbling back down the hill again.

Of course he stopped, again.

You needed more than a second to recover from that one. What was it? Five rounds of the same torture. Your body was sure to be feeling the effects of it. Your cunt continued to twitch around nothing after his fingers were unceremoniously pulled out.

You lay there, unable to do anything but watch him clean off his fingers with his mouth. And it was hot because he didn't necessarily make a show of it. Ever the practical man, he probably only used his mouth because it was the easiest, cleanest solution. But you'd never seen anything so salacious and wrong.

Well, you concede, perhaps its not wrong, just something you, again, wouldn't thought of doing. It made your hips wriggle involuntarily and your cunt clench around nothing again, missing his fingers stretching and making you feel a little closer to whole.

Roose made quick work, ridding himself of his breeches and shirt.

You barely had enough time to appreciate the defined lines of his body, toned, even at his age because he stayed active.

He's undeniably handsome. If he wasn't so evil you'd have jumped at the chance of marrying him. Even now, staring at him, the man in control of your pleasure, you wondered if being married to him would even be so bad.

And his cock... You glanced at it, then trained your eyes back on his icy gaze. He cant see you staring down there, he'll get the wrong idea like he's winning or something. But the image was burnt into your mind. You could end your suffering now and beg him to put it inside you. You could.

But then your pride jumped in and told you to stop acting a fool.

He climbed up the bed, staying to one side of you, then wrapped his arm under you, kissing you briefly. Very briefly. So briefly that when he pulled away, you felt trained to chase after his lips, expecting more. The very accidental admittance of submission was not lost on either of you, an approving chuckle leaving him as he flipped your body on its tummy.

He crawled over you, snaking a hand under your stomach to pull you up and your entire backside felt his bare skin upon it. You bit your lip to stop yourself from whimpering at that feeling alone, again your cunt whined and begged you to just give in. Its right there, hard and pressing against your ass.

It was dizzying, the entire experience. You'd been denied so many times.

"Remember the rules," he murmured in your ear before taking a small bite and kissing down it. "Keep your thighs tight. Until you're ready to spread them like the good little slut you are." And with that, he used his free hand to slip his cock between your damp thighs.

You'd been so stripped of any and all resistance that the dominant emotion filling you was pride at his praise, calling you a good little slut. Something so debasing shouldn't stir you this much.

You were shocked at the warmth, initially scared that he was trying to slip it inside your cunt without you noticing, but Roose stayed true to his word. He wasn't going to put it in unless you asked, unless got to the point of wanting to beg him to. That didn't mean he couldn't put it right next to the entrance to tempt you.

It took him all but two seconds to begin slowly thrusting into the crack of your thighs and you wondered if it was supposed to feel like anything for you because it felt really amazing.

It wasn't as intense as his lips on your cunt but it was more tempting. The head of his cock, when his hips would slap against your ass, would grind deliciously over your clit. You whimpered each time it happened. It was all so wet and warm down there, his cock doing nothing but spreading the mess between your thighs.

His hand came around you to grab your neck, pulling you up so that he could fuck your thighs, using you as leverage. Your cunt pulsed with desire again, wishing he'd angle his hips incorrectly on accident and it'd just slip inside.

Please just slip inside. Please, please. Please slip in.

"Fuck, Roose, It... Its so... please," You said without even thinking

A dark chuckle vibrated right next to your ear. He chewed your lobe and kissed the top of your jaw. "Tell me."

"I... mmm nothing, nothing. I..." You growled frustratedly, burrying your face in the pillow.

Tears pricked your eyes.

The frustration was really getting to you.

Five times denied.

Your hips met him, rolling back to make his thrusts easier and he growled, landing a firm smack to your buttock. You cried out into the pillow.

Having had enough of your muffled cries, Roose pulled you up, situating your neck in the crook of his arm and he hoisted you up to your knees, cock still pumping drenched between your thighs.

It was pure debauchery. Unadulterated debauchery. You felt dirty and you couldn't even bother to be embarrassed by it. You just wanted him to have an accident and slip in. But you knew Roose. You knew he was too careful.

You had to give in first.

Your heart sank, realizing this could go on for so much longer. If he really wanted to, he could release right now, between your thighs and toy with your body mercilessly until he's ready to try with his cock again. He could go on for much much longer than you could ever dream of.

Especially in this position, it was difficult not to imagine him spearing you, your walls clenching and welcoming him instead of your thighs.

Gods, the way he was just using your body. Any part of your body. You were dizzy with pleasure and longing.

“Roose just do it, you win. Fuck me, please,” You spoke through sobs. Frustrated tears trickled down your cheeks.

Roose slowed his movements but that only made your wanting worse. Your thighs literally quivered for him. He took one look at the tear streaks on your face, not having noticed the fact that you were fucking crying for his cock, since your face had just been buried in the pillows a second ago. Roose's heart nearly had a tender little lapse, but it instead, swelled his pride to see you so desperate.

He wiped your tears away with his free hand and kissed your cheek. He wasn't completely done toying with you. He had to make sure you understood what it meant to be fucked by him. Truly understood. “And take my lady’s maidenhead? Will any respectable man take you to be his bride then?”

Your heart sank deeper than it ever had, real dread filling you. You finally understood his play here.

“Of course, as an honorable man, It’d be my duty to inform them of your compromised purity. Tell them this little whore's been tainted.”

He'd riled you up this far. You thought naively that he simply wanted you to admit defeat that you desired him as much as he desired you before taking you passionately.

In reality he wasn't going to let you go even after you gave in. The second another lord comes along for your hand in marriage, Bolton will reveal this little tryst you've had.

This was his goal since the beginning.

Marriage to you has been his goal since the very beginning of this little parlay.

You whined, stomach twisting because your dignity has become a whispered scream within you, telling you not to give in. But your psychology, your biology, everything else was screaming for him. He wanted not just to fuck you but to own you.

Your thighs tightened and you grinded against his long shaft. Still in the weakest attempt to remain stubborn, you stuttered, “Just… only a little, my lord. Only the top part. If you must. But please dont put it all in. Not far enough to break the… m-my maidenhead.”

That was the moment both of you knew you lost. You'd say it was stubbornness. Maybe that's what it was. Maybe you just liked feeling helpless under him, knowing what was inevitable.

Roose reached down, the strain that his smirk had on his cheeks being felt against yours. You're happy he's happy. Truly, you are. It twists your stomach again. You think if your stomach twists again you'll just melt into Roose Bolton. Completely at his mercy.

You whimpered as he used his hand to guide his cock to your entrance and pushed in, only far enough for the tip. Breathy moans tumbled out of you, all effort to hide them completely foregone. You threw your head back against his chest, eyes closed, enjoying the teasing feeling of just his cockhead stretching you.

He alternated between faster pumps and slow ones where you could feel his tip just barely broaching your entrance before pulling away again. He liked to feel your cunt try to suck him into you. Could you get any wetter? Any more ready to take him?

You tried to cheat, you'll admit it. Bucking your hips back, but he always managed to follow your movements, not giving you a single bit more than what you asked for. Tears pricked your eyes again but your heart soared from it. You're at his mercy completely.

“Whats wrong, my lady, you seem distressed.” He wiped a tear away from the corner of your eye, threatening to fall. And the way you whined at that moment, so frustratedly, almost like you hated him, like you might kill him if you had the chance... it actually managed to crack Roose’s composure and he laughed a good hearty laugh from the bottom of his chest.

Still smiling, he tilted his head, giving a condescending hum of mock sympathy.

Roose took your chin in his hand so he can get a good look at you as he continued to tease the tip of his cock in and out of you. Your big eyes looking up at him and begging, begging. He would love to give in but you have to say it.

“I am but your loyal and humble servant. I only do what is bid of me.”

“Fuck me,” You crack, the words coming out not as intelligible words but as part of your moans.

He hummed a deep and clear “Hm?” Pretending he didnt hear but he did. You know he did.

“Please, fuck me.”

“And...”

“Please fuck me and marry me," You forced out, you cringed at the way your voice sounded, so whiny you would have thought it to be annoying and too high pitched. But it deepend the clouds of lust behind your lord's eyes. It made you keep going "Please, my lord, take me as your bride. Fuck me and then save my honor from ruin.”

Your eyes fluttered close, shutting tightly. You expected more taunting from him, anything, but you forced your eyes back to him when you felt his hot breath on your cheek, then his nose ghosting over as well. He pushed his cock in a little past the tip and you whimpered, grateful, melting into him. Your stomach twisted again. Your legs were so so so weak.

Roose tilted his head, leaning in closer and pressed a sweet kiss to your lips. When he parted, you blinked, looking up into his striking blue eyes and you whimpered again because he thrusted back in, deeper, only slightly, but he met the little barrier within you and you braced yourself for the striking blow.

He captured your lips more roughly this time as he pushed through, claiming you as his. Your soft squeaks of pain and pleasure getting lost in his mouth. Roose pumped his cock in and out, slowly, waiting for you to stop tensing.

When your ass twitched upward against him, he took that as the permission. Your lips disconnected from each other, both of you left gasping. You stopped trying to hide your pleasure long ago.

Your husband to be let go of you, letting you fall down back to the bed and you caught yourself on your elbows. He grabbed your hips, using your body mercilessly as you damn near sobbed from pleasure.

The view of you bent over for him, the side of your face pressed into the sheet and submissively crying out for him was almost too much. Roose braced himself to last longer but it seemed you were also tumbling embarrassingly quickly to your release after having been denied the pleasure five times over.

"Perhaps tonight," Roose paused to grunt and in his deep, baritone, it was just too good, you whined in response, "Tonight, I will put our first baby in you. A bastard, but no one else but you and I will be privy to that technicality."

"Yes," You shook beneath him, pushing your hips back to meet his thrusts. And as your cunt tightened around him, Roose knew you were close.

"Beg," was the one worded command, and having learned your lesson, you obeyed nearly immediately.

"Please, let me release. Please, let me carry a son for you, husband. Whatever you need from me, please."

Roose could not deny such sweet words, he came inside you with a few purposeful jerks of his hips and you shuddered for it, the pleasure feeling as if it could blind you if you were even the slightest bit more wound up than you were in this moment. You were unaware of the fact that your pussy, having a mind of its own, continued to pulse, milking Roose Bolton for everything he had to offer.

The sizable load immediately spilled out onto the sheets after your intended slipped out of you. You laid there afterward, with your ass up, desperately attempting to recollect yourself as quick as possible.

You moved to get up but Roose landed a firm but not too painful smack on your ass. It wasn't too hard but in your state, it succeeded in knocking you back down to your hands with how weak your legs were.

"That's for striking me earlier," He said, icily, then he handed you a cup of water, waiting for you to take it before he started to wipe away at the mess he'd left between your legs with a spare rag of his.

The act was more tender than you'd have expected from Roose, especially when he pressed a small, short kiss to your buttock and gave it another playful smack.

"Stubborn little wife."

That brought a pleasant little heat to your cheeks.

[motziedapul]

I had a thought about Wish and why it didn't work that I don't know if others have mentioned.

It was made clear to me after I saw this concept art for Star Boy what this film lacked. It lacked a throughline of DESIRE AND RELATIONSHIPS; not just romantic desire, though the scrapped possibility of "romance" is what made me think about it.

Also, just wanted to say how ironic it is that Star Boy is so reminiscent of Jack Frost from Rise Of The Guardians while Chris Pine, who voiced Jack Frost in ROTG, was the villain (and best part) of this disappointing film.

Despite being ABOUT people's desires and wishes, both Asha and her grandfather's desires are nebulous. "I want to inspire people", "I want more". More what? Inspire them how? Their motivations are pretty unclear, as are their desires. The King even points this out, and he's right to do so.

It wouldn't be so bad for Asha to want her grandfather's wish to be fulfilled if the film could make you feel emotionally invested in him and his motivations. Love for her grandfather and a grave injustice against him and others is a FANTASTIC motivation, which is undermined by the fact that everyone's pretty darn happy in Rosas, and there's no sign to indicate that there's something deeply wrong underneath the surface.

The problem with presenting a society that needs change in a film is that you need to show why it's not working, and yet by all accounts Rosas is a wonderful place to live. SHOW US, DON'T TELL US, WHY THIS IS A GRAVE INJUSTICE. You have to show who's being hurt by showing them being hurt.

It's unfortunate that a movie in the same month dealt with wishes on stars 10000 times better than Wish did, but Puss In Boots The Last Wish did pretty much everything better than Wish did. That being said, they had a blueprint for how to make Wish work, and they didn't even follow it:

Encanto.

I love Encanto. It's not Disney's strongest film, especially plotwise, but what it lacks in plot it makes up for in getting you emotionally invested. The music, the tragedy, the character relationships, they all work. And even Encanto didn't have a romance, but it had suffering, desire, and something was wrong that needed to be fixed, and most importantly, it convinced the audience of that.

In comparison, you have a king taking people's Wishes away because he saw the destructive potential of unfettered desire and greed, all in exchange for peace and happiness - and yet we do not see people suffering from this decision. We see Asha get angry about it before we ever see why she should be angry.

People have already mentioned that Wish lacks camp, so I'm not gonna go into that, but it lacks camp and any Disney animated film that lacks camp is one not worth watching.

In terms of relationships, the only one in the film that has any sort of chemistry or emotional complexity is that of Asha and Magnifico. They literally sing a love song to each other in the movie, which baffles me because it gives you the idea of a budding romance/non romantic but loving relationship between the protagonist and antagonist of this film, only to be followed by a heartwrenching betrayal that justifies Magnifico's descent into darkness. And that would have been a fantastic story (after removing the weird age gap, obviously, though Disney's no stranger to that).

There is no other relationship in Asha's life that seems to mean anything to her, not even her relationship with her grandfather, because the only interactions we see her have with him before deciding what's best for him is 1 single scene where she actively avoids spending time with him and her mother to sneak off.

In Coco, we understand how important Hector as a great grandfather is, because of this scene.

In Encanto, we immediately see how and why Mirabelle loves her family and is proud of them, and yet also how she suffers from their exclusion and isolation of her.

The character who is *described* as caring for others but never shown caring for anybody only ever has a moment with the villainous king, who himself only ever has chemistry with her and his wife.

What's infuriating is that there's a deleted scene that, if combined with another scene showing Asha's childhood and why her grandfather means so much to her, would've made her motivation clear.

There's a deleted scene where her grandfather sings a beautiful song, and her and her mother sit there in emotional silence.

Would've been nice to have it in the film.

The most interesting character in the film is King Magnifico, which is why they had to scrape all the nuance out of him in the second act. Asha is described as selfless but is deeply selfish and self-centred. Her desires are nebulous. Her motivations aren't convincing. The character they try to sell you is one we never see.

A romance may not have been entirely necessary, but Asha having a real relationship and therefore emotional stakes with someone absolutely would have. It would have clarified and justified her desires, her motivations.

What a waste.

-

P.S. The Animation in Wish is gorgeous, lively, and well-done, but the rendering, lighting and watercolour effects were badly executed. Please make the proper distinction - the characters move beautifully.

P.P.S. Yeah the music's bad. Say what you want about Lin Manuel Miranda but he's at least talented enough and Broadway enough to know how music can synergize with story and character. None of my criticisms about him as a person extends to his musical ability - Moana is my favourite movie, and he did a fantastic job there and on Encanto.

Apologies for the long post, but after seeing so many rants about this film I realized there's still something to touch upon that people haven't fully addressed.

[sagaschan]

What happened on Sep 16th: a compilation

If I could clarify some things. Lots happened on twitter within a short timeframe, and I've seen a fair number of people misled, so here goes. The Project Moon User Association(PMUA) had received the reply to their demand letter(can only be received by the recipient, and can't be refused) a week ago, but waited to make their statement because they still believed there was a chance PM could apologize, and because the Youth Union(YU) requested it. PMUA uploaded PM's reply and their statement today.

PM's reply, written by a lawyer, said essentially: You are lying and it affected our sales so I will sue you. The termination was legal because Vellmori said first that she wanted to resign(we have a recording). We wrote the agreement with Vellmori and her lawyer later. In order to protect her and the other employees we did nothing(if that sounds illogical to you, it is). Disappear immediately or we will sue you for defamation.

There are many things wrong with the reply, as covered by the PMUA's statement, but I'll get to that later. Alright let's go for it, says the PMUA.

Then PM tweets two threads. The first thread says: We were only laying low to protect our employees, y'all are lying, if you attack our employees we will sue you. The second one says: The YU tried to use us for political gains, since we were going to announce legal action against employee harrassment anyway but they tried to take the credit for it. Look at this image of a document where YU says they were wrong, and apologizes. This PMUA might be under the YU's control, isn't it suspicious? And political?

PM, though technically it's KJH, keeps insinuating that those such as PMUA and the YU are attacking the employees, when it's only KJH himself who's been criticized since 7.25, when he tweeted that they had 'terminated the contract' with Vellmori for violating company rules. The fans knew that was illegal. The paper that interviewed Vellmori the day after, the various news media that reached out to PM, the unions that spoke out on the matter knew it was illegal. We weren't going to let him get away with it if we could help it.

The YU rep Lee Jongchan(@JCLEE0333 on twitter) provided a more accurate picture. The YU, having just learned of the agreement between Vellmori and PM from PM's reply, had asked the PMUA to delay their statement, contacted PM behind the scenes. The PMUA and the unions they were working with had been trying to solve the situation amicably if possible, if PM would just come to the table and learn how to fix the situation. A legal fight would be the absolute last resort, since they wanted the company to do better.

This is where the supposed statement from the YU that PM included in their second thread comes in. A crude screencap of a word doc with typos and 'draft' in the title. It says: We recognize there was no illegal firing and that you've taken precautions to protect employees. We're sorry and we retract our protest. We welcome that you've stated ideology hunts and cyberbullying against your employees will be dealt with stern legal action. Basically, the YU didn't want Vellmori to be bothered anymore so they'd take a bit of a L.

The thing is, during the negotiations KJH refused to include that PM would take legal action to protect employees from ideology hunts and cyberbullying in the future in PM's statement. Apparently that wasn't something he could agree with. Negotiations fell out(around 8 pm, according to KJH), and the next day PMUA went ahead with their statement.

That's the bare facts of it. But I'd like to elaborate a little on where PM is contradicting itself, though the PMUA has already covered some of it.

1. It's laughable that KJH is using the excuse of 'protecting employees' to explain PM's past actions and future motivations, when he can't even put it on paper.

2. He most definitely did not protect his employees. The initial lack of action against DCinside incels' camping out of their office, how he treated contractors like Mimi(author of Wonderlab) and Monggeu(artist for Leviathan comics), the overwork and harrassment Eng translator Watson experienced, the HHPP manager he used as a scapegoat, the LoR Chinese localization team that still hasn't been paid... the list keeps growing.

3. KJH's words are all over the place. In the very first notice he says Vellmori's contract has been terminated because she violated company rules. You know, just as DC had asked for. In the second one, on 8.3, he says they did not fire her, and that it had nothing to do with ideologies. And that he would sue anyone calling it an illegal dismissal. (Also when news media reached out to ask if that meant she was still employed, said he wouldn't answer.) And in the most recent letter, he claims that during the phone call on 7.25 Vellmori said first she would resign.

Nobody believes that, not in the least because the Hankyoreh interviewed Vellmori the very next day about the unjustness of it. Any 'recording' of the call that he posits as evidence will likely reflect that, and work against him in court, so I'd love to see that actually. KJH apparently doesn't remember that.

4. Can you believe he's fudging his words to make it seem like the PMUA and those associated were the ones attacking employees? Not a single mention of DC anywhere. Now in court, if he's required to provide evidence as to just why Vellmori wanted to resign, well... DC did that. That's undeniable. All this started with wetsuit Ishmael, if anyone's forgotten. And if he admits DC was the reason a perfectly innocent illustrator was left jobless overnight, well, he can do away with his insistence that he was protecting her in any way.

5. And even if he twists legalese to claim Vellmori left of her own volition, it's nothing that hasn't been said by employers in the country a million times over. Advisory resignation this, political controversy that. It's still an unfair dismissal, and an especially rampant problem in the game industry that has been a long time coming to be dealt with.

6. Remember when KJH threatened Mimi and Monggeu with the mention of NDA, when they came out with stories of how they were horrifically mistreated by PM? Hypocritical, just revealing private correspondence with the YU without their permission. As well as the ridiculousness of treating the remnants of a negotiation that fell through like fact. He thinks people can't read, I suppose. It's more ammunition for the unions.

7. The inherent idiocy of evilmongering about 'politics' all thread long. What does KJH think unions Do? He's been fueling the fire regarding a labor rights case for near two months now, but doesn't seem to have learned much other than to dig deeper holes. What he means to do by repeatedly insinuating the PMUA and YU are secretly in cahoots when the PMUA has been open about working with the YU from the start I will never know.

8. Refusing to translate The Notice for 53 days was the first and biggest hint, I think. The radio silence, purposefully leaving international fans in the dark, threatening the contractors, the staunch refusal to name the incels for a single offense. During that time we learned Monggeu had been fired just as quickly as Vellmori, after being made to follow an unrealistic schedule to the point she had suicidal ideation. The workplace reviews in the wake of the incident saying KJH was prone to emotional outbursts. All the translators worked to the bone and abandoned, HHPP's manager announcing an apology with his name for decisions he couldn't have made. Those aren't the actions of someone who has his employees in mind.

The PMUA was created in response to PM's announcement to sue fans back in August. They'd held out hope that KJH would be someone who could see reason. But you'd have to be beyond naive to believe that now. So with all evidence piled up during these two months pointing to KJH being a nasty little guy who has only ever had himself and DC's best interests at heart, I sincerely hope KJH fucks himself over, and for all fans who are eternally confused about what PM has done wrong to be someday in need of a union.

[justinspoliticalcorner]

Tamara Qiblawi at CNN:

At a military base that now doubles as a detention center in Israel’s Negev desert, an Israeli working at the facility snapped two photographs of a scene that he says continues to haunt him. Rows of men in gray tracksuits are seen sitting on paper-thin mattresses, ringfenced by barbed wire. All appear blindfolded, their heads hanging heavy under the glare of floodlights. A putrid stench filled the air and the room hummed with the men’s murmurs, the Israeli who was at the facility told CNN. Forbidden from speaking to each other, the detainees mumbled to themselves. “We were told they were not allowed to move. They should sit upright. They’re not allowed to talk. Not allowed to peek under their blindfold.” Guards were instructed “to scream uskot” – shut up in Arabic – and told to “pick people out that were problematic and punish them,” the source added.

CNN spoke to three Israeli whistleblowers who worked at the Sde Teiman desert camp, which holds Palestinians detained during Israel’s invasion of Gaza. All spoke out at risk of legal repercussions and reprisals from groups supportive of Israel’s hardline policies in Gaza. They paint a picture of a facility where doctors sometimes amputated prisoners’ limbs due to injuries sustained from constant handcuffing; of medical procedures sometimes performed by underqualified medics earning it a reputation for being “a paradise for interns”; and where the air is filled with the smell of neglected wounds left to rot.

According to the accounts, the facility some 18 miles from the Gaza frontier is split into two parts: enclosures where around 70 Palestinian detainees from Gaza are placed under extreme physical restraint, and a field hospital where wounded detainees are strapped to their beds, wearing diapers and fed through straws. “They stripped them down of anything that resembles human beings,” said one whistleblower, who worked as a medic at the facility’s field hospital. “(The beatings) were not done to gather intelligence. They were done out of revenge,” said another whistleblower. “It was punishment for what they (the Palestinians) did on October 7 and punishment for behavior in the camp.”

Responding to CNN’s request for comment on all the allegations made in this report, the Israeli military, known as the Israel Defense Forces (IDF), said in a statement: “The IDF ensures proper conduct towards the detainees in custody. Any allegation of misconduct by IDF soldiers is examined and dealt with accordingly. In appropriate cases, MPCID (Military Police Criminal Investigation’s Division) investigations are opened when there is suspicion of misconduct justifying such action.”

“Detainees are handcuffed based on their risk level and health status. Incidents of unlawful handcuffing are not known to the authorities.” The IDF did not directly deny accounts of people being stripped of their clothing or held in diapers. Instead, the Israeli military said that the detainees are given back their clothing once the IDF has determined that they pose no security risk. Reports of abuse at Sde Teiman have already surfaced in Israeli and Arab media after an outcry from Israeli and Palestinian rights groups over conditions there. But this rare testimony from Israelis working at the facility sheds further light on Israel’s conduct as it wages war in Gaza, with fresh allegations of mistreatment. It also casts more doubt on the Israeli government’s repeated assertions that it acts in accordance with accepted international practices and law.

[...]

Detained in the desert

The Israeli military has acknowledged partially converting three different military facilities into detention camps for Palestinian detainees from Gaza since the Hamas-led October 7 attack on Israel, in which Israeli authorities say about 1,200 were killed and over 250 were abducted, and the subsequent Israeli offensive in Gaza, killing nearly 35,000 people according to the strip’s health ministry. These facilities are Sde Teiman in the Negev desert, as well as Anatot and Ofer military bases in the occupied West Bank. The camps are part of the infrastructure of Israel’s Unlawful Combatants Law, an amended legislation passed by the Knesset last December that expanded the military’s authority to detain suspected militants.

The law permits the military to detain people for 45 days without an arrest warrant, after which they must be transferred to Israel’s formal prison system (IPS), where over 9,000 Palestinians are being held in conditions that rights groups say have drastically deteriorated since October 7. Two Palestinian prisoners associations said last week that 18 Palestinians – including leading Gaza surgeon Dr. Adnan al-Bursh – had died in Israeli custody over the course of the war. The military detention camps – where the number of inmates is unknown – serve as a filtration point during the arrest period mandated by the Unlawful Combatants Law. After their detention in the camps, those with suspected Hamas links are transferred to the IPS, while those whose militant ties have been ruled out are released back to Gaza.

[...]

Al-Ran’s account of the forms of punishment he saw were corroborated by the whistleblowers who spoke with CNN. A prisoner who committed an offense such as speaking to another would be ordered to raise his arms above his head for up to an hour. The prisoner’s hands would sometimes be zip-tied to a fence to ensure that he did not come out of the stress position.

For those who repeatedly breached the prohibition on speaking and moving, the punishment became more severe. Israeli guards would sometimes take a prisoner to an area outside the enclosure and beat him aggressively, according to two whistleblowers and al-Ran. A whistleblower who worked as a guard said he saw a man emerge from a beating with his teeth, and some bones, apparently broken. That whistleblower and al-Ran also described a routine search when the guards would unleash large dogs on sleeping detainees, lobbing a sound grenade at the enclosure as troops barged in. Al-Ran called this “the nightly torture.” “While we were cabled, they unleashed the dogs that would move between us, and trample over us,” said al-Ran. “You’d be lying on your belly, your face pressed against the ground. You can’t move, and they’re moving above you.” [...]

Strapped to beds in a field hospital

Whistleblower accounts portrayed a different kind of horror at the Sde Teiman field hospital. “What I felt when I was dealing with those patients is an idea of total vulnerability,” said one medic who worked at Sde Teiman. “If you imagine yourself being unable to move, being unable to see what’s going on, and being completely naked, that leaves you completely exposed,” the source said.  “I think that’s something that borders on, if not crosses to, psychological torture.” Another whistleblower said he was ordered to perform medical procedures on the Palestinian detainees for which he was not qualified. “I was asked to learn how to do things on the patients, performing minor medical procedures that are totally outside my expertise,” he said, adding that this was frequently done without anesthesia.

“If they complained about pain, they would be given paracetamol,” he said, using another name for acetaminophen. “Just being there felt like being complicit in abuse.” The same whistleblower also said he witnessed an amputation performed on a man who had sustained injuries caused by the constant zip-tying of his wrists. The account tallied with details of a letter authored by a doctor working at Sde Teiman published by Ha’aretz in April. “From the first days of the medical facility’s operation until today, I have faced serious ethical dilemmas,” said the letter addressed to Israel’s attorney general, and its health and defense ministries, according to Ha’aretz. “More than that, I am writing (this letter) to warn you that the facilities’ operations do not comply with a single section among those dealing with health in the Incarceration of Unlawful Combatants Law.” [...]

Concealed from the outside world

Sde Teiman and other military detention camps have been shrouded in secrecy since their inception. Israel has repeatedly refused requests to disclose the number of detainees held at the facilities, or to reveal the whereabouts of Gazan prisoners. Last Wednesday, the Israeli Supreme Court held a hearing in response to a petition brought forward by Israeli rights group, HaMoked, to reveal the location of a Palestinian X-Ray technician detained from Nasser Hospital in southern Gaza in February. It was the first court session of its kind since October 7. Israel’s highest court had previously rejected writs of habeas corpus filed on behalf of dozens of Palestinians from Gaza held in unknown locations.

The Israel Occupation Forces (IOF) run the Sde Teiman concentration camp, and CNN interviewed three whistleblowers in which they described the barbaric and inhumane conditions that detainees are subjected to.

This is further proof that the US should not be sending aid to the Israel Apartheid State and the IOF are a terrorist organization.

[animasolaoriginal]

(5) I n n o c e n c e L o s t

He finds her in a brothel of all places. A chance encounter, but one that will change his life – and hers – forever. – or: A story about a cowboy who falls in love with a prostitute, who happens to be so much more than that.

GENERAL TAGS: NSFW! Explicit! Size difference, age gap, slow burn romance. Cowboys, outlaws, prostitutes. Historical inaccuracy. Horses, guns, violence.

Chapter 1▫️2▫️3▫️4▫️5▫️6▫️7▫️8▫️9▫️10▫️11▫️12▫️13 ...

Chapter 5: The Doubts

m!OC x f!OC -- WORDS: 5.3k -- READ ON AO3

when a man questions everything

Chapter 4 -- Chapter 6

5

It's been one of the stupidest ideas he's ever had. Taking her away, bringing her here, leaving her alone. Exposing her to the real world. All on a whim and a warm sensation in his stomach.

Now the anger sits like a burning stone in his guts, barely contained, but he refrains, for her sake, as he holds her in his arms, this tiny body pressed to his, curled up on his lap, feet tugged beneath his thigh, knees poking his side, arms in a chokehold around his neck, breasts squished between them. She's shivering, sobbing quietly, hot tears dripping down his neck.

He can't believe he left her. He should have known better.

His exhale is rough, making strands of her hair fly. His arms tighten around her small frame, his large hands splayed on her cold skin. He's going to kill whoever touched her, whoever tried to – A grunt escapes him, and he buries his face in her hair, holding down the rage that's threatening to consume him.

The image of her lying on the ground like that, left behind by whoever he's scared away, has burnt itself into his brain. He's heard the muffled scream over the bubbling of the creek, he's rushed back, hearing her call his name in nothing but sheer panic, and in his own panic, he didn't see who fled the scene, it was too dark, his senses clouded by his own fear. Of losing her. Of not being able to protect her.

And he has failed her.

He may have prevented worse, but she has still been assaulted, in the camp he has thought was safe for her, but he should have known better. These other men, except Mitch, shouldn't be around a young girl like her. None of them. Especially Steve. But Ben has been blinded by how the other women of the camp dealt with the degenerates, how they've accepted that Steve had changed (or so they'd hoped).

Was it Bill? Was it revenge for the broken nose? Joe for being told to shut up? Or Bob, avenging his friends? Was it Ben's own fault for bringing someone this young (and beautiful) into their camp? A former prostitute who may never be able to get rid of that stigma? Keira's kid...

Something hot curls inside his stomach, hot and heavy, lurching upwards like bile, burning at the edge of his throat, forming a lump, making it hard to breathe. He holds her closer, pressing his face into her hair and neck, trying to breathe her in, feel her warmth, soak up her tears. “I'm so sorry, baby,” he growls hoarsely, pressing his eyes shut to keep the burning down.

Her hands move into his hair, gently up the curve of his head, pressing into his scalp, her sobs have gone quiet, her chest no longer rising and falling rapidly against him. Her shaking breath hot on his neck, trembling lips so close to his own rapid pulse. “Not your fault,” she mumbles into him, a soft hum against his skin.

A groan escapes him, and he slowly loosens his tight embrace around her, gently placing his large hands on her upper arms, pulling her back to look at her. Her fingers slip from his hair, resting on his shoulders as she looks at him with reddened eyes, glistening, wide. Long lashes clumped and wet. Cheeks splotched with red. Lips, full lips, parted and trembling.

He wants to grab her face and press his mouth to hers, kiss the sorrow away, distract her from the raging turmoil inside her pure soul. But he only looks at her, his eyebrows furrowed, forehead creased, lips tight. Her trembling fingers ghost over his neck, fingertips touching his jaw, as if she tries to ease the tension in his face – when it should be him who should ease her tension.

“Tell me what you saw,” he says darkly, his voice a low rumble in his throat.

She swallows, licking her lips, her fingers rubbing over his bearded cheeks as she stares at his mouth instead of his eyes. “I... I don't know, it was dark, I saw a face, but I can't remember... can't...” Her voice breaks as a sudden sob emerges from her quivering lips.

He inhales sharply and pulls her back against his chest, his large hand splayed on her bare back, warm and reassuring. A shudder rushes through her. “Anything?” he mutters into her hair.

“No,” she croaks. “M'sorry...”

“Don't apologize,” he growls, moving his hand up her neck and into her hair, feeling the soft strands gliding between his calloused fingers. “It's okay...” It's not okay. He has to find the bastard who did this...

While his mind starts imagining all the possible ways of how to punish and destroy (and kill) her attacker, Nebbia shifts on his lap, her knees slipping on either side of his hips while she leans against him, and it's when she winces that the fantasy of skinning the fucker alive dissipates from behind his eyelids.

“You're hurt,” he groans quietly. It's not a question this time. “Let me see you.”

She leans back, biting her lip, raising one hand to wipe at her eyes. His hands are on her upper arms as he pushes her gently off his thighs, making her stand on trembling limbs. She's so tiny as she stands before him, completely naked, nestled between his legs, her arms raised instinctively to cover her chest, shoulders slumped.

“Let me see you,” he repeats softly, watching her closely. “Please.”

She takes a shuddering breath and lowers her arms, clenching her hands to fists at her side. His eyes start their journey over her slender body. There are a few scratches on her cheek (he raises a hand and traces his finger over them carefully), her lips are a little swollen (his thumb presses against her bottom lip), a bit of dirt is caked to her chin (he scratches it off with his fingernail).

Moving her hair aside, he lets his hand wander over her shoulder and down her arm, long fingers sliding over her delicate skin. She shivers, but doesn't move, lets him touch and see her. His eyes wander over the small mounds of her breasts, there's a bit of mud between them. He reaches up, but hesitates, looking into her face, waiting for confirmation. Her chin jerks into a nod.

Gently he moves his palm into the valley between them, rubbing at the dirt, then slowly, carefully, almost hesitantly, puts his large hands over her small breasts, feels their warmth, their weight, their texture, feels her nipples harden under the touch, poking against his palms. He gives them a gentle squeeze, nothing more, then brushes the earth off her skin, and moves on, reluctantly.

His hands slide along her sides, into the dip of her waist, following the swell of her hips, down the length of her legs, fingers brushing over the creases between her rear and the back of her thighs. He sees goosebumps rippling over her skin in the wake of his touches. She stands perfectly still, watching him with bated breath. His eyes wander towards the small patch of hair between her legs, the gentle slope of her mound, vanishing out of sight.

“Can I... see?” he whispers barely audible, his voice a low hum in the air, his hands on her thighs, thumbs nudging them apart slightly. She hesitates, her hands relaxing at her sides before she puts them on his forearms, applying enough pressure to show him that she allows it. She opens her legs only a little, but enough for him to see the rest of the swell of her mound, her soft pink skin, seemingly untouched. “Did... did he touch you... here?” he croaks out, his thumbs inching closer to her sex.

“No,” she whispers. “Not... with his hands...”

Something hot rushes through his gut. He clenches his jaw, closes his eyes for a moment. Her hands tighten around his forearms, pulling at them. Slowly, he looks up at her, meeting her gaze. Her eyes are clearer now, lips no longer trembling, cheeks still flushed a deep red.

He exhales loudly through his nose and looks back down, his eyes skimming over her front. “Turn around,” he then mutters, and slowly, she complies, shuffling in front of him until he can see her backside – and the bright red hand print on her ass cheek. A hiss escapes him, that hot thing inside him growing, convulsing. A curse slips off his tongue. He's trembling in pure rage at the sight, at the image of how she got this mark. Remembers the muffled scream he's heard. I'm gonna kill that bastard!

Carefully, to stop the shaking, he places his hands on her hips, thumbs tracing the curves over her rear, gently trailing the edges of her red skin. She winces slightly, and he takes his hand away, his eyes wandering up the gentle curve of her spine to her long hair falling over her shoulder, covering her shoulder blades. He pushes it away, and pulls in a sharp breath through his teeth.

Another red mark between her delicate shoulder blades, almost completely recognizable as a boot print, wider front, narrower heel, there's even a little cut from where the spurs dug into her soft skin. That fucking bastard. His breath is quickening, shaking badly, his hands grip her waist and pull her towards him before he presses his face into her back, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin, the warmth, the innocence.

Closing his eyes, he fights the anger boiling within. His arms snake around her body, pressed to her flat stomach, holding her tightly. He feels her hands rubbing over his rough skin, how she breathes deep, moving against him with every rise and fall of her chest, quiver of her belly.

After a moment of silence (while his mind draws up more scenarios of possible punishment), he inhales deeply and gently pulls her back onto his thigh, careful not to put her weight on the tight, possibly burning skin of her ass cheek. She turns and leans her shoulder against his chest, looking up at him, her bottom lip pulled between her teeth.

Ben leans down and presses his lips to her forehead, taking another deep breath, inhaling her scent, filling his lungs with her sweetness instead of the suffocating heat of the anger radiating through his body. He cages her in gently, one arm loose around her side, one hand resting on her leg. He wants to tell her that he'll avenge her, do horrible things to the man that assaulted her, but he doesn't want to scare her, disturb her even more.

So he just watches her, hoping to give her reassuring looks instead of dark stares of doom. He can't really control the deepening of the creases on his face, the furrowing of his brows. The longer he looks at her soft face, her innocent eyes, her delicate body, trying not to think of the tainted spots, the slower his heart's beating in his chest. The calmer he becomes.

“Are you tired?” he utters in a deep grumble. Her eyes wander over his face before she nods.

He nods as well, slowly moving to stand up, get ready for bed, when her hand closes around his wrist. “Can I be on top tonight?” Her voice is soft, barely audible, and it immediately makes his heart beat way faster again. Even more so when he notices the deep blush on her cheeks, the slight twinkle in her eyes.

Hazy memories of warm, soft skin fill his mind, a steady heartbeat against his ear, the gentle rise and fall of a chest, nimble fingers digging into his hair, massaging his scalp, as he falls asleep on top of her small body, pushing her into the bed.

“Anything you want, sweetheart,” he gives his affirmation with a low hum of his voice, a soft smile creeping up on his lips.

It is completely dark now as he lies in bed, flat on his back, staring at the ceiling. Nebbia's slender frame lies right on top of him, stretched on her stomach, face buried in his neck, arms cradling his head, legs tucked between his own, breathing softly, sleeping deeply. He feels his cock throbbing beneath her, pressed against her stomach, warm and cozy (and hardening), and every little twitch of her body only excites him more.

His hands rest on her lower back, tempted to slip lower and grab onto her plump ass cheeks, but every time he wants to move them, the image of the hand print on her soft skin comes back like a stab to his side, and he only groans softly and eventually moves his hands up her back and curls them around her shoulders.

She's insisted for him to sleep naked – well, she hasn't objected when he has stripped in front of her, only blushed a little more, but once he laid down on his bed, she hasn't hesitated long before she has climbed over him and onto him, pressing her soft skin against his hard body. He is surprised how open she is, how easy it is for her to be naked around him, to just enjoy the other's warmth without making it sexual. Something that's quite new to him.

He's noticed fairly soon that she seems to seek him out whenever she can, always staying close, close enough to touch, always looking at him, watching him. They've only spent one night and one day together, with emphasis on together, at all times (except that horrible one time he's left her alone).

It's strange to think he was practically a loner before he met her, preferred to roam the wild on his own, with only Thunder keeping him company (if there weren't any heists or robberies to execute, of course). Now he needs to constantly see her, touch her, have her near him, just as much as she needs him, apparently. Protecting her has become the most important thing. Even more so now that he's failed her once.

It will never happen again.

It may be even stranger that despite having her naked body lying on top of his, the urge to do unspeakable things to her is barely there (of course it is still there because he can't really control the reactions of his body, the warming of his guts, the twitching of his cock, the itching of his fingers, he's only a man after all), but a shift has happened, from wanting to grab her and dominate her, to hold her and show her that he is more than a big strong man. That men can be more...

More than the monster who almost –

Inhaling sharply, he shifts slightly beneath her, his hands rubbing along her slender shoulders. A little breath escapes her, hot against his neck. He tries to relax, shut off his spinning mind, but it's harder than usual. There's a bottle of Bourbon on the dresser by the bed, if only he could reach it, drink the thundering thoughts away.

But he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to wake the sleeping girl on top of him. So he focuses on her, on the soft noises she makes, the little shivers rushing through her limbs, how deep she breathes, her chest pressing into his, her stomach moving against his dick. How warm she is, warm and soft and so frail and fragile. Needs to be protected. Taught about the cruel world he dragged her into.

And the cycle repeats itself...

A sigh breaks out of him, and he can't stop it. His heart feels heavy with emotions, with fear and doubt and... affection. He's never felt this sober before, this clear, and he hates it. He doesn't want to question himself, not now, not ever. But those are the loudest thoughts. The doubts.

What are you doing? Why is she here? Why did you bring her? Is it just because she looks like Keira? Keira, who broke your heart, who left you to rot in that cell, destined to be hanged, if it wasn't for Mitch breaking you out? If anything, why are you torturing yourself with the memory of Keira that comes up every fucking time you look at this girl? What the fuck are you doing?

What will you do with her? What were you thinking? Promising her a better life, when your own is just as unstable as the flow of clients stumbling into the brothel you saved her from. You can't protect her forever, you failed her once already, in this very camp, the one you thought was safe! Turned your back and bam, the next horny bastard was onto her.

A bastard you cannot kill because he is part of the fucking group.

Breathing hard, he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to force the voices down. His hands slip from her warm body and clench into the sheets of the bed, knuckles turning white, the tension in his arms so bad he's shaking. His heart beats faster, the anger sitting in his gut like burning coals.

Suddenly there are soft little hands on his hard face, hesitant fingers dragging over his beard, the scraping sound causing his eyes to flutter open. Nebbia looks at him, leaning slightly over him, holding his cheeks as she tilts her head, eyes small from sleep, lips parted slightly, face flushed.

“Ben? What's wrong?” she whispers, her voice like a soft little hum in the air, a buzzing in the atmosphere. He closes his eyes again, focusing on it, on her touches, on her breathing, how close she is. How warm.

“Nothing,” he growls from deep within his throat. She exhales loudly against his cheek as she rubs her face against his beard. The warmth of her breath is right there on his dry lips. He's tempted to lick them, then lick hers, kiss her deeply, pull her closer, roll her over, sink himself into her –

“You seem so tense, are you not comfortable?” she breathes against him, the hum vibrating through his head, disrupting his intrusive thoughts.

“I'm fine, darling,” he whispers back, opening his eyes. Unclenching his hands from around the sheets, he flexes them, then brings them back to rest on her body, and she shivers when he does. One lies heavy and wide on her lower back, just in the dip of her spine, the other moves up to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear before he gently caresses her cheek with the back of his finger. “What about you?”

Her eyes are on him in the semi-darkness of the room. She inhales deeply, nuzzling her nose against his cheek. “I'm... better,” she says softly, her fingers tracing along his jawline. He watches her closely, his jaw clenching when she touches it. “Ben?”

“Hm?” he hums deeply, his hand slipping along the back of her neck up into her soft hair.

“Why do I feel so safe with you?”

The question makes him pause, stops the whirling thoughts immediately. He tilts his head slightly to better look at her, before a dry laugh escapes him. “You tell me, kid!”

She scrunches her nose at the name and raises an eyebrow. “I mean it,” she says quietly, her small hand resting on his shoulder as she leans up a little. “You look... so intimidating, you're big and tall and strong, and... I am not, and yet I feel... comfortable with you. I mean look at us! Second night in a row, lying together like this!” she adds, waving her hand around. “I've never slept naked before, and most definitely never shared a bed with a man, whilst being naked!”

He chuckles slightly, watching her as she speaks, her voice a gentle murmur despite the excited, almost outraged tone in it. A warm feeling floods his insides. His hand moves up to cup her face, his thumb wiping at her warm cheek. It feels familiar. Comfortable, like she said. Strangely so. Is it just because she is Keira's kid? Does the connection come from that? Or is there something else?

Has it really been twenty years since he last saw Keira? Or less?

His eyes grow a littler harder as he looks at the girl lying on top of him, at her small, round face with those big green eyes, now almost black in the darkness, the high cheekbones, and her long wavy hair falling over her shoulders as she leans on her elbows to look back at him. The shape of her lips, the arch of her eyebrows, the soft baby hairs at her temple. His fingertips trace her features, taking them in.

She looks like Keira. She is beautiful. Because she looks like Keira?

A soft smile grows on those full lips when his thumb wipes at the corner of her mouth, and he notices something else. Something Keira didn't have. A barely there dimple in her cheek as the smile gets a little wider. He frowns slightly, tracing the little indent, while something cold creeps down his spine.

The strangely familiar dimple disappears under his finger as the smile vanishes from her lips. “What is it?” she whispers.

“Huh?” he grumbles and blinks, clearing his throat. “Uh, nothing,” he says quickly, lowering his hand to let it rest next to his body. His other hand is still on her lower back, warm and mindlessly caressing her soft skin.

He should stop. Right now.

Nebbia looks at him curiously while she shifts on top of him, her stomach pressed against his (unfortunately still hard) cock. Stop. Oblivious to his thoughts (and arousal), she keeps squirming, rubbing against him until she leans on her elbows, one on either side of his head, her fingertips brushing along his temples as she slides them deeper into his hair.

“Penny for your thoughts?” she whispers, her face closer to his now, her breath ghosting his lips, her eyes boring into his.

Ben only shakes his head slightly, sighs. “No thoughts, just tired,” he replies in a low hum.

She keeps looking at him, her fingers mindlessly massaging his scalp. He closes his eyes, leans into the touch. Relaxes. Doesn't think about that stupid dimple. Breathes deeply.

The bed creaks slightly when she moves again, shuffling down until she rests her head on his collarbone, one hand still buried in his messy hair. He feels the other rubbing up and down his chest before she slowly settles down, stops moving, stops grinding against him, and it's only her soft weight on him, barely there but still noticeable, warm and comfortable, enticing.

He shouldn't be thinking like that. But he can't help it. It feels too good. She feels too good. And he wants more...

But for now he is content with just lying beneath her, giving her the comfort she needs, enjoying the fact that she feels safe with him, despite barely knowing him. Despite knowing what he told her about himself. Despite everything.

There is a creak. A quiet noise in the silent night, amidst the chirping insects and croaking frogs, the bristle of the wind in the trees, the occasional hoot of an owl. The creak of a floorboard. Right outside his door.

He's barely slept anyway, but it still startles him awake. Inhaling deeply, he realizes the girl has changed positions and is now lying curled up against his side, just a heap of limbs and long hair, snuggled tightly against him, a small hand resting on his hipbone.

It feels wrong to move away, wrong to let her hand slide down his skin until it plops onto the sheets, but he has to move. Quickly. He gets out of bed, as quiet as he can, and taps towards the door. The creak beneath his own foot is almost as loud as a gunshot. He freezes, and there's a faint echo on the other side of the wall.

His heart is racing inside his chest. A shiver rushes down his spine. Something is off.

This was not the creak of someone walking by, trying to get back to their room. This is someone sneaking around, trying not to make any sound. And none of the people living in this house are very considerate when it comes to making noises. This feels like danger.

Without moving his feet, he reaches his hand out to the doorknob, holding his breath, listening. He sees Nebbia out of the corner of his eye, moving slightly, pulling her knees firmer against her chest, smacking her lips quietly. If she wouldn't be here, he'd grab his gun and barge through the door, scaring whoever creeps through the house away or stop them with a quick shot between their eyebrows. He wouldn't hesitate.

But now he does. He can't harm her, give no one the chance to harm her. His fingers stretch more, and with a little jolt of his body, he presses the knob in, locking the door. Not a second later, he sees it rattling slightly, the attempt of a turn. Someone's clearly there, and someone wants to get into his room specifically.

His hands are itching. For violence. Whoever dares to disturb him in the middle of the night has it coming. But he stands still, every muscle in his body tense, waiting, listening. Through the broken window comes a soft breeze, chilling his bones, raising the hairs on his arms. Then he hears it: footsteps, outside, shuffling through the dry grass.

He tenses even more, his hands clenched to fists, his eyes wandering from the window to the door back to the girl on the bed. His mind is racing. Mitch's words come back to him. ...if you bring any of those people here, if you bring trouble to us... Fuck.

They found him. Her. How is that even possible? No one has seen them escape, it's been the middle of the night. But someone must have recognized him before, drunk at the bar, asking for their newest... has seen him walking up the stairs, to her.

It's been a whole day since he left with her. Since her room has become vacant. Someone must have put two and two together. Fuck. Stupidest idea ever! He clenches his jaw, listens, looks around, waits. It's quiet, too quiet. He is so tense.

The sudden creak of the floorboards outside his room startles him, makes him move, create a creak of his own. The footsteps outside stop as well. The tension is weighing him down immensely. Nebbia coos softly in her sleep. He looks towards her, his heart hammering against his ribs, his fists tight. Whoever is in the hallway outside is leaving, a quiet noise in the silence of the night.

The stairs squeak, the hinges of the front door moan, then nothing. Outside it's quiet, too, only the insects, frogs, the wind.

Scouts, he thinks frantically, listening closely. And they've found him. But is a closed door evidence enough that he has the girl? That she's here with him? It's their only hint. He went into her room and now her room is empty. It's too obvious to hope those idiot henchmen won't put two and two together.

He walks towards the window, looking down, sees nothing, hears nothing. His mind is spinning out of control. He has to leave. Can't endanger the others. His people aren't the faint of heart, they can fight back, but what for? So he can have this girl here with him? (Keira's kid.) Is it worth it, risking an assault on their camp? Because of one girl?

It would be for him, but the others won't see it like that. Mitch is already pissed. And he is too, at himself. For not thinking straight. Bringing her here. Taking her away from them. He should have known their greedy fingers would span this far.

He turns away with a sigh, looking back at the sleeping girl on his bed, curled up, sleeping softly. Her face is hidden under her hair, her body coiled up, knees pulled up to her chin, arms around them, spine bent in a delicate arch. Even in the darkness he can see the slightly different colored hand print on her round ass cheek. Anger flashes within him.

That decides it. They're leaving. She can't stay here, among predators, and he won't let her go back to that brothel, exposing her to even more predators. Inhaling deeply, he starts dressing, quickly, quietly, giving her some more minutes of peaceful sleep. Once he's done, he packs the essentials, some provisions, ammunition, a spare gun, then grabs the duffel bag from under his bed, checks the contents.

He has to be prepared, and he has no idea if they'll return here. Or where they'll even go. But preparation is key, so he nods at the state of the rifle and the shotgun, the pack of arrows and the bow he's carved last summer. It's his hunting gear, and it can't be bad to have this with him, knowing he'll be the hunted now.

Adding a few more shirts and pants, he stuffs the bag and throws it gently towards the door, then fills his pouch with some of the trinkets on his shelves. Lighters, razors, the pack of coffee. He hesitates as his fingers close around the bottle of Bourbon, but then he packs it as well. The nights might get cold. He even grabs another one from inside his dresser.

It takes him only a few minutes to pack, and when he's done, he slowly walks to the bed, puts a knee on it and leans down, his hand extended towards the sleeping form of the girl.

She shifts slightly, smacking her lips again, so peaceful, so innocent. His fingers slide over her hip, up her side, brushing her hair out of her face. She doesn't deserve this life, running away, hiding, afraid to be found, but they have no choice. He gently grabs her upper arm and shakes her a little.

“Sweetheart, wake up,” he whispers into the night. She stirs, issuing a quiet groan, loosening the grip on her knees, unfolds slowly in front of him. Her eyelids flutter before she opens one eye and peeks up at him, licking her lips.

“Ben?” she mumbles, her voice heavy with sleep.

“Come on, get up, darling,” he says softly, brushing his hand down her arm and grabbing her hand. “We gotta go.”

That wakes her. Her eyes fly open, and she stares at him, her lips parted. “What?”

Chapter 4 -- Chapter 6

End notes: So, doorknobs, right? Lemme just say: I am not American and all my knowledge of American culture (and things) comes from TV, movies, internet videos. I have never used an American doorknob in my life, our doors have handles that you push down to open a door and a key in a lock beneath it to lock the door, but if my “research” is correct, American doorknobs have a “button” in the knob that locks the door, but I do realize that might have been a newer invention and they also just had locks and keys in the Western times, so, this might be a very historically inaccurate thing, but I've warned you about that in the tags, just wanted to point it out myself.

Hmm, sorry to take from the suspense and drama of this chapter with something as irrelevant as doorknobs. Oh well.

So, to bring you back: Danger is afoot! Will they manage to escape? And what's up with Ben's revelation of how long it's been since he last saw Keira, Nebbia's mother? Uh oh...

Picture credits to their respective owners. I don't own anything. I gathered these from all around the Internet. If you see your picture and would like to have it removed, please tell me!

Thank you for reading! Next chapter on Friday!

AO3 -- MASTERLIST -- INSPIRATION POSTS

[xthescarletbitch]

okay ditto to that anon who is obsessed with how you write Minthara. what about a switched situation where Minthara is the one being hit on relentlessly and a jealous female!Tav? how does she reassure Tav 👀

once again, thank you so much! let me try a hand at this, and i hope i continue to do her some justice here. <3

18+ under the cut.

minthara is quite a catch–that you know very well. you also know that she has had plenty of lovers in the past, and while you know you can’t change that, you try to focus on the present and what you can do when competition makes itself known. minthara has that air around her that just attracts, attracts, attracts… what are you to do when she is hit on and feelings of jealousy arise? this was not something that you could just shrug off. she was yours.

as much as you try to hide your jealous feelings, you recognize that you can’t hide them all.

it’s written all over your face, after all.

you’re across the scene, drink in hand, and eyes glued on minthara, who is happily taking the compliments she is dealt.

you feel your hand tighten around your glass, your knuckles turning white, and your eyebrows furrowing in anger.

why was she accepting the flirting? why was she letting it go on?

you’re zoned out at that moment, disregarding everything you were being told by the companion trying to make conversation with you.

you decide that you should go stand by her side–you know, to remind the person flirting with her that she’s already spoken for.

excusing yourself from the conversation you were definitely not paying attention to, you make your way toward your partner.

as soon as you’re by her side, you wrap your arm around her waist and eye your opponent menacingly.

they continue for a little longer, and with each moment that passes, your grip on minthara’s waist grows stronger and stronger.

you occasionally look up at her, mind still wandering, and then back to the offender.

the flirter finally takes note of your facial expression and suspends their advances, slowly retreating backward and bidding you both goodbye. 

once they leave, you release minthara from your grip and sigh heavily.

“what do you think you were doing?” she questions, showing herself fully aware of the situation that just happened.

“they were flirting with you. couldn’t you tell?”

“of course i could tell. what is the problem?”

“i don’t like it.”

“why? are you jealous?” she asks in a teasing tone, her mouth curving into a smirk–she wants to hear you say it.

you feel your face heat up, and you avert your eyes from her gaze.

“no.”

she steps forward, placing her hand underneath your chin and lifting it up to where you are forced to look her in the eyes.

“tell me the truth.”

you hesitate, feeling silly about your reaction.

“fine. yes.”

“yes, what?”

“i'm jealous.”

she holds your gaze for a moment before opening her mouth to speak: “alurlssrin, i am yours.”

“yes, but-”

“do i need to remind you?”

you nod your head, anticipating the reminder.

her smirk grows as she grabs your face gently, pulling you closer to her and taking you in for a passionate kiss right there in front of the entire camp (including the one who wronged you).

after, she grabs your hand and leads you to a more private place where she can properly remind you that you’re the only one for her.

her reassurance to you is a long and romantic night of love-making where you show each other your affection..

you spend the night enjoying each other’s bodies and exploring them in ways that bring pleasure to you both.

the highlight of the night is minthara laying you down and situating herself right above your face, only to slowly lower herself and begin to grind against it as she leans down to eat you out.

she’s a bit more gentle this night, only because it feels right.

she wants to take her time, amplifying everything she can to show your bond.

this sex isn't the meaningless she's used to–to her, it's love.

when you’re finished and cuddled up with each other, she reminds you that nobody else can make her feel the way you do, and it will always be that way.

maybe you’ll even go for a few more rounds after that, to really show the passion you have.

and she might not say it, but she quite liked the way you reacted when you got jealous.

minthara likes the tension it creates between you two, especially when the sex after can be mind-blowing.

[grayson10yearslater]

Welcome to our first monthly mod meta! ✒️ In addition to the fanworks challenges and opinion pieces, we have a meta post planned for every month of this 10 year anniversary!

How Dick Became a Super Spy

As so often in Dick Grayson’s history, his life came into jeopardy and the direction of his comic was changed due to a big crossover with equally big creative differences. Nightwing was pulled out of Higgins’ hands without much preamble. While Geoff Johns and Dan Didio were fighting about Nightwing’s death, two seperate writers were hired to take Dick Grayson’s story into a different direction. Both the in-fighting and the hiring fumble delayed the final issue of Forever Evil and Nightwing (2011). From the battleground within the pages of the comics and editorial, Grayson (2014) rose as a much debated but impactful Dick Grayson story.

The Death of Nightwing

How Dick became a super spy within the text is a story well-known if only in its outline. The Crime Syndicate arrived from Earth-3 in the DC main universe to wreak havoc, and Dick was the big casualty. Saved and then sacrificed, Bruce sends Dick onto an undercover mission, but by the time Tom King and Tim Seeley wrote Nightwing (2011) #30, Dick’s direction was already clear – it is the beginning of Grayson (2014) much more than the end of Nightwing (2011). To observe how Dick became a super spy in-universe, let us have a look at Forever Evil.

Having just dealt with Zaszak in Nightwing (2011) #29 - #30, Dick returns to Gotham to drop him off at Arkham in time to see that Superwoman means to free the inmates. Dick is taken captive by Owlman and her before he can stop them. As the Crime Syndicate rallies the villains of the main universe among them, they reveal a captive Nightwing’s identity and vow to destroy and kill everything and everyone he holds dear (Forever Evil #1).

Watching the reveal, Tim aims to confront the Crime Syndicate with the Teen Titans not only because he believes Dick is still alive but also so he can protect their remaining hidden identities. . Meanwhile Owlman sets his mind on keeping Dick, the counterpart to his Talon, alive (#3).  

Bruce survived the attack on the Justice League Watchtower and has allied with Catwoman, who he reluctantly brings down into the cave, where she points out that the time in which Dick first dropped onto the scene, was when she thought he could actually be happy as Batman. Bruce has taken Dick’s identity reveal badly, going as far as to blame himself for destroying Dick’s life by allowing him to be Robin and pushing him away, so that he had to become a solo hero. Owlman meanwhile tries to get Dick onto his side by forcing him into losing hope (#4).

Batman, Catwoman, and Luthor’s villain team eventually work together to reach Happy Harbor, where the Crime Syndicate has taken up camp in the fallen watchtower. Alfred of Earth-3 tells Owlman to return to the watchtower, while Grid was supposed to protect Nightwing, the Cyborg counterpart seems to be doing none of that. Grid, as any corrupt AI, willfully misinterprets keeping Nightwing safe to keeping him behind lock and key within the murder machine, partially because Ultraman believes Owlman wants Nightwing to team-up against him. As the heroes infiltrate the watchtower, Owlman reiterates to Alfred to keep Nightwing safe at all costs. Alfred goes against Owlman, probably because he also didn’t think much of Earth-3 Richard, and loses his life. 

Bruce and Lex find Dick trapped in the murder machine, which truly is a nuclear bomb ready to go off in five minutes except if Dick Grayson dies. The bomb has been linked to his heart. Bruce promises Dick they will only escape together while Dick pleads with him to leave. Lex makes the “executive decision” to kill Dick and revive him, which he is almost unable to do when Bruce attacks him. Obviously, Lex can’t just explain beforehand. (#6) 

Dick gets his life-saving shot at the last second, and Lex is pushed away so Bruce can take Dick into his arms, relieved to have him back. As they try to get the situation back under control, Owlman follows them, insisting that now that Alfred is gone too, Dick is all he has. He is not giving up on them being a team. He wants the heroes to win, and they do.

Still believed dead by a majority of the world, Bruce tells Dick he wants to take advantage of the fact. Dick is supposed to go on a secret mission. At the time, Owlman is haunting Gotham in search for Dick (#7) and Batgirl is mourning him (Batgirl #30).

Creative Boogaloo

Didio had tried to kill Dick Grayson before and Forever Evil seemed to offer him a new opportunity. He didn’t expect writer Geoff Johns to quarrel with him about the fate of the character. Their discussion about Dick’s death took so long that both Forever Evil #7 and Nightwing #30 were ultimately delayed. In fact, it was Batgirl #30, which ultimately spoiled some kind of death was awaiting Dick. 

One might think this was the only creative difference at that time, but the journey to Grayson (2014) took a lot longer than some might think. Initially there were rumours, which got confirmed to be true years later, that Tynion was supposed to write Dick Grayson’s new comic. 

A few pages of James Tynion IV & Meghan Hetrick’s NW #30 appeared around the time Grayson was published [Bleeding Cool], but that Tynion & Mikel Janín had already decided on a setting and a new costume for Dick was revealed only in 2021 [Gamesradar]. 

Before the announcement of Grayson, all people had to go off of was the Batman: Eternal Thanksgiving Teaser, released as far back as November 2013, half a year before Grayson hit the market. It featured a blond wigged Dick and led to quite succinct speculation. It is also why Dick sports a blond wig in Grayson #1. 

Other rumours involved an Outlaw Justice comic written by Tynion and the rise of Harper Row as Nightwing – though given how Bruce reacted to Dick’s death and how Snyder portrayed Bruce and Dick’s dynamic, she would have had a difficult time living up to that legacy [CBR Community Tynion].

While these rumours floated about, DC Editorial took the miscommunication that plagued the New 52 further by hiring two writers separately: Tim Seeley and Tom King. Seeley had previously only written a one-shot for DC but his Hack/Slash series was quite popular, while King had no comic book under his belt. Allegedly, Didio hired him because he enjoyed his debut novel so much. (Or maybe DD has something to hide from the CSI, we’ll never know.) 

Strange as it might seem today, Mikel Janín was the creative with the most power on Grayson (2014). He had been with DC the longest during that time. In fact, Janín’s debut comic at DC was Flashpoint: Deadman and the Flying Graysons in 2011. 

Even so, Janín might have been too busy with Tynion’s idea to design the first appearances of characters already featured in Nightwing #30. Helena Bertinelli’s first appearance, in which her costume includes a skull mask, was designed by Tim Seeley and he even got the ball rolling in regard to Dick’s new spy costume. (Tim Seeley Art Blog) 

Janín later created a couple of different Agent 37 concept arts before they decided on the one everyone knows today. [The middle one was only revealed years later.]

In an interview shortly before the release of Nightwing #30, Tom King spoke about what readers could expect. He revealed that Helena Bertinelli would make her comeback in Nightwing #30 and describes her as the "Batman of superspies." The first arc of Grayson would focus on her relationship with Dick. Ultimately, they decided to fashion her appearance and clothing more in accordance with the character's history as Huntress and not go with Seeley’s design. They not only discussed Dick’s new clothes but also his hair length in great detail. King explains that the sparring scene in Nightwing #30 was written to be "extremely difficult" for both Dick and Batman. Grayson would emphasise travel and exotic locations. Each issue would be set in a different locale, however, Dick's "heart" would remain focused on Gotham.

Furthermore, King reveals that Seeley and he had not met before, they did all their work by phone and internet. An interesting tidbit for all who like to know in which continuity context a writer sets their work: King approaches Dick’s experiences pre-Flashpoint as if all of it still happened. When Barry rebooted the universe those experiences were folded into the fabric of the New 52. While King and Seeley weren’t allowed to directly contradict the five-year-timeline, they set out and did play fast and loose with it. King's primary inspirations for Dick's character are New Teen Titans and Dark Victory.  [Comic Geek Speak PodcastComic Talk with Tom King] 

A few story elements King mentions will be familiar because the first part of Grayson remained blissfully uninterrupted by editorial, but what do you think of the road to Grayson?

Check out our Intro Post and come celebrate with us 10 years of espionage, sabotage, and partners who are sour, dark, and perfect!

[hatters-workshop]

I'm seeing a lot of people crying about the new episode of Doctor Who being cringey.

Mate. It's Doctor Who. In its run it has featured grown adults, some of whom were award winning actors, lumbering around in bubble wrap and rubber, Tom Baker painted green with tooth picks sticking out of him and claiming he's a cactus, a robot dog shooting lasers out its nose and struggling to drive over carpet or door ways, sets that jiggled if you looked at them too hard, a walking red conker called Banakaffalatta, farting aliens from Raxacoricofallapitorious, the Master dancing to Scissor Sisters, the Doctor calling the Master's wife his beard, pepper pots with toilet plungers yelling exterminate and cybermen that are allergic to gold, and a fucking terrible puppet frog that is also a sentient universe.

Doctor Who has been cringey for as long as it's existed and it always will be. It's had bad dialogue moments and clunky scenes and awkward pacing and silly campness all along, there are episodes you will like and episodes you don't, but don't pretend the cringe is a bug and not a feature. It can be serious and it can be silly. It can be stupid banal shit one minute and it can be the best most emotionally gut punching thing you've ever seen the next. It can be both. Let it.

A trans character saying "erm why are you assuming that fluffy lump is a he?" Is nothing new. Guess what, the Third Doctor corrected Jo on an alien's pronouns in 1972 and no one got up in arms then. Rose being respected and loved by her family and being the linchpin to the storyline is not the worst thing you've ever dealt with with this show and if you think it is, guess what? That's a you problem.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Dearest Ange, the final episode is upon us.

I too was victim to the spoilers via leaks, and I was really, really praying it was just a bad fever dream. I've accepted that at this point I will continue watching for a love of the actors and the characters, rather than for a meaningful, coherent storyline. There are so, so many things wrong with this episode, much of which we've discussed over the course of season two;

The horrible, horrible way that Ryan Condal and Sara Hess dealt with the greens. My heart really went out to Aemond in this episode because despite the fact that he's so, so messy, and flawed, he's the only one left of his family who's actually trying to keep them alive, to protect them even though he's not going about it the wrong way.

The way the show dealt with the aftermath of events

The horrible character development of so many characters

The terrible pacing

The annoying inclusion of the whole ASOIAF from the main series- please, please, please stop reminding me it exists

Aemond trying to kill Aegon on purpose.

And so much more

And while I'll get to the (few) positives, as I always try to do, there is one thing that made me have to pause my tablet in pure agitation and just being fucking fed up, and that, dear Ange, is that scene with Alicent and Rhaenyra.

What. the. Fuck.

Alicent just sacrificed Aegon for her own freedom, after forcing Aegon to claim a throne he didn't even want? Why is Rhaenyra still bringing up a son for a son? Did Jaehaerys's death mean nothing? Alicent only cares about Helaena and Jaehaera, but what about her sons? Daeron? Aemond and Aegon, despite their flaws, they are her sons, her children- where is the Alicent in s1 who screamed at Aegon that if Rhaenyra became Queen, they will die? It's more than butchering her character, it's just utter bullshit. I remember in season 1 I was such an Alicent sympathiser, I felt like the complexity of her character would be so interesting to see in s2, but my god was it a shitshow. Alicent takes one solo camping trip and she's ready to offer up her sons on a platter so she can try and absolve herself? What about her father? Her brother? All of whom are fighting for her son's cause? They don't have the luxury that Alicent seems to, if the greens lose, they will lose their heads. No question.

My heart ached for Aemond when he tried to reach out to Helaena hat one last time- yes, she has every right to be angry, because she's lost so much because of Aemond's actions, and yet, the look on his face broke me. He's trying so hard to fight for their survival, and not one member of his family cares. I've ranted on a bit about the negatives, so here are my few positives-

Daemon and Rhaenyra reunion, seeing them together again

At this point, any Aemond or Helaena screentime is a blessing, no matter what Ryan Condal's trying to do.

Daeron sneak peak

Rhaena and Sheepstealer

Helaena is so fucking pretty <3

Sharako Lohar (I wanna be one of her wives, thanks)

Ngl after Aemond burned Sharp Point I was ready to let him take out some more frustrations on me, hehe

I wanna say Bloodraven, but....that's not what I expected him to look like

Anyway, Ange, I've enjoyed our little weekly tradition. I'm looking forward to how the show is going to inspire the fandom for the next two years. I'll try not to disappear into a void, I'm still gonna hide behind anon for a while longer, but maybe by the time s3 rolls around, I'll be able to come out from hiding. I've written my own fics, though admittedly I'm only somewhat proud of one of them, that I'm not finished uploading from ao3 to tumblr. I feel some inspiration to write again after some time of no inspiration, so perhaps if I'm granted any time, I can finally write again. As always, look forward to seeing your takes, Ange <3

-🦋 anon

Hello, my love! I can't believe that after eight weeks of doing this, this will be our final one (until season three, anyway) - I hope you won't be a stranger until then! I will wait patiently for your first fic to post.

Anyway, on to my thoughts...

A lot of people’s gripe with season two of House of the Dragon has been its deviation from Fire and Blood.

I do not mind that. They did it in season one. My issue is that there is no consistency between the characters as they were presented in season one and how they behave in season two.

Alicent that put herself between a dragon and her son, that replied “you imbecile” to his question of “do you love me?” now offering up his head.

Aemond that toasted with his brother at the expense of his bastard nephews, and looked on in annoyance as Helaena danced with one of them, burning and torturing his brother and manhandling his sister.

This isn’t character development, it’s character assassination. Where is the family unit that closed ranks and defended one another when Viserys demanded to know which of them called Rhaenyra’s sons bastards?

The writers tore up the script for season one and said “actually, they all hate each other”. I don’t recognise these characters. They are trying to make the audience hate Aemond when he is the only one with any integrity, still fighting for his family’s cause.

And Daemon - Daemon’s defining quality has always been his ruthlessness, how cutting he is. They’ve softened him up to make Rhaenyra’s cause seem more sympathetic. Give me back the man that sat at the top table during a wedding feast and called Lord Royce an “old bronzed cunt”, the man who single-handedly took on the Crabfeeder’s army rather than accept help from his brother.

They’ve destroyed so much potential with the insistence on creating good guys. The whole appeal of the Dance is that everyone is shitty. We could have had that with the foundations that were laid in season one. I am so disappointed.

I'm annoyed that we didn't get to see Rhaena actually claim Sheepstealer, and when she does finally encounter him she reacts with wide eyed surprise? Girl, you're really shocked that you're seeing the creature that you've spent the last however long tracking and almost died of exposure for? That's like me looking around the supermarket for grapefruit and then screaming when I find it. That could have been way more badass, I'm not annoyed that they sacrificed Nettles' character for that.

What was the point of Aemond burning Sharp Point? Visually, it was stunning, but what purpose did it serve? Was that in place of him burning the Riverlands? We didn't even get to see him do it, just the aftermath!

Helaena telling Aemond how he dies, as well as Daemon seeing his own death were such dumb moves. Those deaths would have been epic for people who haven't read the book, and now they are spoiled. I am also now sceptical as to whether we will get Alysmond or not. It seems like they've stripped away the very foundation that made that pairing by making Helaena a seer and giving Daemon such a tight knit bond with Alys.

When I first read Fire and Blood I was very much Team Black. What brought me to neutral ground was watching season one and seeing how Team Green were fleshed out and made more complex. Season two has undone all of that. It feels almost like they are trying to turn the characters back to their book counterparts, but are making them into caricatures of themselves in the process.

They could never make me hate Aemond, and I think the only reason for that is Ewan's incredible performance of the character. He adds so much nuance to a personality that the writers are actively trying to destroy. I think if it were any other actor playing Aemond, I genuinely would not enjoy the character.

Anyway, so I'm not ending on a bum note, here's what I've enjoyed this season:

The acting - the cast have been absolutely phenomenal, every performance has been a joy to watch, despite the weak writing.

The lesbian fan service. I very much enjoyed the Rhaesaria kiss, though I am annoyed they never developed that any further. Sharako Lohar also - I know the character is a man in the book and making her a woman is very fan servicey, but I enjoyed her immensely.

Tyland Lannister. He has provided some much needed comic relief this season, whether it's being bullied by Aegon and Jaehaerys, terrorised by Aemond or mud wrestled by pirates, he's fun to watch.

Team Black - I was kind of "meh" towards characters like Baela and Jace in season one. I've grown to appreciate them so much more in season two, and I think that's because of the acting. Bethany and Harry have done an amazing job.

The dragons! I've enjoyed seeing them all, the designs for all of them are so interesting and I really like how different they all look. Caraxes will be my forever favourite, but Syrax has also stolen my heart this season, because of her cute little Boglin face.

I think that's it? My expectations for season three are low, so hopefully I will be pleasantly surprised. I will be knocking around in the meantime, writing fics as always! Lots of love to you xoxo