#i want jon so fucking bad i wanna run up to him and wind around his legs and he picks me up and rubs his face in my fur and

[haunted-plush]

PLEEEEEASE PLEASEPLEASEPLEASEPLESE I JUST WANT MY FUR AND MY PAWS AND MY WHISKERS AND MY TAIL AND BE ABLE TO TROT OVER AND CURL UP IN A WARM LAP AND RECEIVE LOVE PLEEEEEASE CAN I HAVE IT BACK

[fbfh]

I've literally only seen the pilot of game of thrones and I already wanna fuck Jon Snow so fuckin bad. "oooh but his oath, but his vows" I DON'T CARE. COCK IN MOUTH RN. fucking look at this

WHY DOES GOD KEEP SENDING ME THESE MISERABLE WET LITTLE BRUNET MEN WITH BIG OLD COW EYES AND EMPATHIC DOGMATICALLY LOYAL SENSABILITIES. STOP RIGHT NOW send more. bc I'll be so astronomically for real with you. this man pulls up on a horse with a fuckin direwolf puppy following him along fully believing he's its mama???? fold. instantly fold. no one can not fold at that. he's channeling all his yearning and desires into being loyal and noble and it fucking HURTS to look at him and know he's never had the sloppiest most earth shattering fucking top of all time. I'm thinking about a lot of things right now, mostly how good the tension of "I shouldn't do this I shouldn't do this I shouldn't do this" running through his mind while his heart betrays him and he moves closer to you is. the kicker is, he hasn't even done anything yet. he's maybe knelt and kissed your hand at most, but good GOD did it get you wet. because you can tell how much he's holding back. you can tell how badly he's aching for more, and the self control he's exercising makes you want to see him fucking snap. but you know he won't somehow it just makes it better and better. like you breathe in his direction and he's trying to get rid of impure thoughts unbecoming of a brother of the night's watch. and it's all self inflicted.

thinking also about Jon being assigned as your bodyguard for some reason. maybe you're of nobility, maybe you were requested to be delivered to some king or other, but now it's Jon's job to take you through the snowy wastelands of the north and deliver you safely to your destination. he quickly realizes that there is no way he'll be able to maintain his professionalism (he does, he just feels like he's throwing caution to the wind cause you make him blush). sitting you in front of him on his horse? you keep resting your head against his chest and speaking so sweetly to him to pass the time!!! sitting you behind him? your arms are around his waist!!!!!!!! he's losing it girlfriend!!!!! don't even get me started on making camp in some cave for the night to wait out a particularly bad snowstorm. you stay close to him at his insistance, knowing it's the only way for you both to stay warm. You're snuggled up in his arms under his cloak looking so sweet in the firelight. something howls in the distance, and you jump, moving closer to him. he realizes you feel protected by him. not in a professional guide-through-the-north way, in a way that you choose. you feel so deeply in your subconsious that if anything were to happen, you'd be safe in Jon's arms. you look up to him, feel protected and safe with him. you feel safe with him. and motherfucker if that doesn't stir something uncontrollable and irreversable in his chest. he knows he shouldn't, but his heart betrays him, and his arms wrap firmly around you, holding you close.

"It's alright," he murmurs so gently, "it's only the wind."

[snarkwriteswrasslin]

FFT: dark as night; jon moxley

Notes: 

This one.. this was sent to my main by @rampagewriting​ and I enjoyed writing every second of it. It fits into the roommates version of events that I had planned out for Mox and Jane, so I kinda rolled with it.

Summary:

Jane is stuck at home in bad weather. A drunk Mox arrives home early. Misunderstandings are had and things are revealed.

Pairing:

Jon Moxley x OFC, Jane - from my various universes with these two in them.

Warning:

alcohol tw, fluff, mentions of a storm, suspense.

The thunder had her jumping and a split second away from shrieking. Jane had never particularly liked storms. And this one had been brewing for hours now, getting nastier and nastier with each one that passed.

She found herself eyeing the time on the microwave and then almost reaching for her cell phone.. Mox was 2 hours away, doing a show at some little armory tonight. He’d be driving back in the worst of the shit -more than likely drunk off his ass, and that worried her.

← Be careful on your way back. This storm is getting worse by the minute.

←(Draft) I know it’s not my business but like.. I’d really appreciate it if you  didn’t drink an entire bar like you usually do if you wind up having to drive back tonight.. Again, not my business I just… I don’t want anything to happen to you..

She eyed the text in the box and sighed, erasing everything but the part where she told him to be careful on his way back. Any more than that and if he was in a mood, he’d probably think she was bitching at him or something and she  really didn’t have a cause or claim to even say anything.

Sure, they were old friends, but they were only just reconnecting and slowly starting to get a little bit close again like they used to be as kids… She wasn’t his girlfriend or family, so she had no right to suggest or ask him not to do something.

She hesitated for a good five seconds over even sending one  of the texts. Would he feel like she was nagging or invading his personal space? She didn’t want to come off that way.

Sending only  the first text she’d written, Jane put her phone down on the counter, and almost immediately, thunder struck hard enough that the floor beneath her feet rattled. “Damn it.”

She’d always hated storms. She hated them even worse now if she were to be perfectly honest with herself. Especially tonight, this storm.

Knowing Mox was out in this tonight had her just a shade more tense than she’d normally be. Knowing he’d probably drink while driving back in this tonight did not help at all. Taking a few deep breaths, Jane worked on settling herself down.

Mox’s actions were out of her control; even if sometimes the shit he did worried her and made her want to tell him to knock it the fuck off because every time something happened to him it scared her a little bit. He was who he was and she loved him exactly the way he was.

The thought was a sobering one and it was enough to stop her mid rummage through the pantry for something quick to eat for herself.

“Fuck.. I’m in love with him..”

The lights flickered a little and Jane’s breath caught for a split second. When she banged her side into the counter in their cramped kitchen, she swore and winced, lifting her shirt to look down at her side.

“Yep, that’s probably gonna leave a mark.”

X

“Hey  Mox, your fucking phone is going batshit. Take it.” almost as soon as Mox walked through the hallway and stepped into the little room that the other wrestlers were milling around in, waiting to go out for their matches, one of  the valets shoved his phone at him and Mox stared at it a few seconds, caught up in the picture he’d chosen for his wallpaper.

It was a picture of Jane, an old friend and currently, his room mate. … and idiot, ya  fallin for her all over again… his brain reminded him.

He unlocked the phone and saw that she’d texted him. Glancing around to make sure no one saw him and got nosy as all fuck, Mox  texted her back.

→Be careful on your way back. This storm is getting worse by the minute.

She’d sent the text about thirty minutes ago, during his first match of the night. He felt bad about leaving it on read, so after a second or two, he answered back.

← I make no promises. Stay put tonight, yeah?

Rather than send it straight away, he spent a minute or two agonizing over and changing the text countless times, finally re entering the first thing he’d thought to type. It was safe. Safer than what he considered putting,  which was something along the lines of telling her if it got too bad she could call him.. That he’d actually like it if she did.

Because only a boyfriend got that right and  the way Mox saw it, he might not ever be a good enough candidate to call himself that where Jane was concerned.

“Hey man, you wanna grab a few drinks before we head back?”

“Nah. I think I’m just gonna go back, Callihan.” Mox’s turning down drinks prompted Sami to study his friend with a curious gleam in his eyes as he rubbed his chin.

He burst into laughter as soon as he really thought about it and realized exactly why Mox was turning down drinks and clapping his hand down upon Mox’s injured shoulder -which prompted Mox to swear for about a minute and a through gritted teeth, he told Mox, “Finally. I thought I wasn’t ever gonna see th’ day Jon Moxley met a girl capable of tamin his wild ass.. Is it that cute little teacher ya got livin at your place now? Jane, that’s her name, right?”

“Shut the fuck up, Callihan, it ain’t like that. Just tired, damn.”

“And grumpy.  That definitely tells me it’s exactly like that by the way.” Sami was having a field day with it and when Mox shoved the keys at him, he took them and went quiet.

He could tell it already had the bastard up in arms enough already. No sense in making Mox mean for the duration of the two hour drive  they had ahead of them. “I’m gonna stop for a case.”

“Whatever man, I’m just fuckin ready to go.”

X

The storm raged on outside and Jane realized that her  relaxing soak in the tub was not an option. She’d just stepped out of the tub and wrapped a towel around herself when the whole apartment went pitch black.

“Fuck my life.”

Jane had never liked the dark, not at all.

Rather than get dressed, Jane stumbled around the little apartment in the dark digging around for candles, flashlights, anything to help get just a little light into the place.

Naturally, Mox was not the kind of guy who kept candles.

Or flashlights, apparently.

“I am.. Buying that man a Mag Lite, I swear to God.” Jane managed to bang her shin into the couch and she was in the midst of hopping around on one foot after stubbing her toe a second time when she heard the door knob to their apartment rattling.

She swallowed hard, glancing in it’s general direction.

… i swear to God, it better not be someone breaking in… only my luck…

Her phone was almost dead and she’d left it in the bathroom, sitting on the counter. If she started using it for a flashlight, she wouldn’t have any battery left if say Mox wound up in a bar fight or an accident or something else of  that nature.

… you don’t even know he’d call you anyway…

… but still, if something happens, you’d want to know.. Better to save the battery and put on those big girl panties than to run the damn phone down using it as a flashlight…

The doorknob was still rattling and Jane didn’t think, she just stepped into the hallway leading back to the bedrooms and bathroom, flattening herself against the wall, her hand finding the handle of a bat Mox kept lying around.

Just as the door burst open and whoever had been swearing under their breath outside in the hall stepped in, lightning lit up the sky just enough to show that the person was wearing a bloodstained tee shirt and holding something in their  right hand.

The intruder took a step forward, Jane took a step back and raised the bat slightly. “You… better stay back..”

Mox chuckled and reached for her when the next clap of thunder had her screaming and that only freaked her out more, making her step further out of his reach. It didn’t occur to him that thanks to a blood stained tee shirt, she probably had all sorts of scary thoughts running through her head right now on top of an already present overwhelming fear of any sort of bad weather and the dark.

“Ain’t g-gonna hurt ya.” the intruder raised his hands, waving them almost defensively.

“Yeah, right.. Bet you said that to whoever’s blood is all over your shirt too. If you’re smart you’ll get the fuck outta here now because..” Jane hesitated a second, raising her bat, stepping away more when the intruder stepped a little closer and raised an arm.

Her back hit the wall at the end of  the hallway and she gulped. She only had another step and she’d be in the bathroom but the way the intruder was pressing in against her was kind of trapping her between his body and the door  her back was against.

“Because why?”

“My boyfriend.. He’s sleepin and if I scream,  he’s gonna wake up and when that happens.. You’re as good as fucked.”

Mox raised a brow, almost snickering but resisting the urge. Having had about  a third of the bottle of whiskey in his hand right now, it was more amusing to him than anything and he really wasn’t thinking about what Jane might be afraid was happening right now, otherwise, he wouldn’t have done it.

“Go on and laugh. But when Mox is beating the shit out of  you you won’t be.”

Now that.. That was more than enough to sober Jon Moxley right up. And yeah, leave him temporarily speechless. But only temporarily. That cocky side took over and he smirked to himself in the darkness. “Wouldn’t want that, would I?”

“No, you wouldn’t.” Jane was about to step into the bathroom. Her phone was in there. If she could just get to it, she could call Mox and alert him, warn him what was happening so maybe he’d avoid it.

… or alternately, he’ll come rushing into your rescue.. Because that’s what you  fantasize about, right?… her mind nagged at her, but fight or flight was kicking in and Jane had to act soon. If not whatever happened to the person whose blood was spattered all over the intruder’s shirt  would happen to her.

And given the sheer volume, Jane wasn’t really fond of the idea of an almost certain death.

She raised the bat and his hand found her wrist, lowering it, prying her fingers from around the handle. Jane screamed and screamed as if her life depended on it and the intruder was laughing. “This isn’t..” Jane was pushing back against the door covertly and hoping that just this once it would fly open for her, letting out a ragged breath when it actually did, “Fucking funny. And it definitely won’t be just as soon as…” she stepped into the bathroom, slamming the door between herself and the intruder, sitting with her back wedged right up against it after hurrying to grab her phone off the countertop.

The door knob rattled and rattled and she could feel the door being pushed on from the other side.

← Mox

← so someone broke in  I think… look, make the block or something instead of coming straight here.  I’ll call 911 but… I just..

← I don’t want anything happening to you, alright?

Outside the bathroom door, the muffled sound of the factory ringer for Jon’s cell phone started to play and Mox scratched the back of his head, the glow of the screen lighting up the darkness.

He eyed the bathroom door and called through it, “If ya just open the fuckin door..”

“I’m calling the cops.  When my boyfriend and the cops get through with your ass..” Jane started, but then the sound of Mox’s ringtone… In the apartment..

Jane bit her lip and eyed the door.

She did a quick check of her battery power and the time and raised a brow. The show still had another hour to go because Jane just didn’t seen Jon Moxley getting eliminated, not as good as he was or as well as he knew the ring,  himself and his opponent. “What the..” she trailed off, hesitating when she heard it again.

Outside the bathroom door, Mox’s eyes darted over the texts she’d sent and he glanced up from his phone to look at the door, trying to wrap his head around the fact that Jane essentially sent him a text.. Warning him away from danger.

← Mox

← so someone broke in  I think… look, make the block or something instead of coming straight here.  I’ll call 911 but… I just..

← I don’t want anything happening to you, alright?

… the fuck was she gonna do for herself? Hope t’ fuck nothin happened or nobody kicked in the door?… she knows the cops don’t give two shits about what goes down on this side of town…

Hearing Jon’s cell phone going off in the apartment made Jane bolder. “You’re in deep shit now.”

She noticed it then, the door handle wasn’t rattling and the intruder wasn’t pushing at the door to try and get into the room with her.

She held her breath, waited for about a minute and rose to her feet.

Just to be safe, she picked up the glass vase her makeup brushes sat in. It might not do a whole lot in the way of damage to someone intending to do her harm but… It would give her time to run.

“This shit.. This is why girls like me die in horror movies.” she muttered mostly to herself just before flinging the door open. Just as the door swung open, the lights came on and Jane was greeted by the sight of Mox standing against the wall, staring at the screen of his cell phone with a far away and thoughtful look in his eyes.

“J-jon?”

Mox’s head snapped up and he bit back the urge to make a suggestive comment at the fact that she was apparently wandering around their apartment in one of the smaller bath towels.. Her hair still damp from a shower she’d probably taken just before he got in and the power went out.

… c’mon goddamn, work brain, work mouth.. Anythin?…

“ So I’m ya boyfriend now?”

“I..” it hit her then that Mox had been the intruder the entire time and she doubled over, laughing so hard that she actually snorted a time or two. “It was you?”

Mox knew her like the back of her hand. He knew her well enough to know that the laughter was her, deflecting. He stepped closer, a hand resting at her side, squeezing her hip. He cupped her jaw with the other hand, guiding her eyes up to meet his.  “It’s kinda funny yeah, but.. Ya ain’t answered my question yet, doll… I’m ya boyfriend now, hmm?”

Jane’s laughter died away and she gulped, staring at his eyes, then his lips. Her mouth opened and closed a time or two but no words were coming. Nothing.

“I…”

“C’mon doll..  Don’t avoid my question. I mean..” he took a calculated risk and stepped closer to her, his hips against hers as he did it and he leaned down slightly, his mouth hovering just above her own. He licked his lips and muttered quietly, “Ya texted me before ya even thought about the cops, woman.. To warn me away.. Makes me think if ya didn’t feel somethin..” and he went quiet, not wanting to say too much.

There was a slim chance that he was too caught up in the moment, being too cocky and totally misreading the situation and the signs as they presented  themselves to him now  with shocking clarity.

Jane sighed and bit her lip, her heart beating so fast she thought it’d explode at any second. She’d pretty much given herself away.

Might as well come clean, get the whole awkward rejection part over with.

“Oh I do. More than you know.”

Her words shocked him and the shock registered quite visibly on his face. But in a split second, that shocked widening of his eyes was gone and in it’s place he was super focused, staring intently at her mouth as the hand on her hip crept down and squeezed a hand full of her ass through the towel when he hauled her completely against him. “How long, hmm?”

“How long what?”

“How long ya felt… whatever ya feel?”

“The honest answer?”

“Yeah.”

“Started when we were thirteen.. Then kinda… intensified when I answered your roommate ad a few months ago.” Jane dared to inch her lips closer to his. Her fingers went to his hair and the hem of his shirt as she grimaced at the blood spatter on the front.

In the light it wasn’t nearly as bad as she thought.

Mox took the hint and tugged his shirt over his head, muttering an apology before sliding her up his body and pressing her back against the wall. The second her mouth met his and her teeth sank into his lower lip he growled and started to kiss back; harder and deeper, his hands and fingers all over her, digging itno her hip at one point and earning him a hiss.

“Bumped into the damn counter in the dark a little while ago.” she explained it quickly, a quiet giggle.

“Shit.. Sorry.” he deepened the kiss even more and then mumbled against her mouth, “If being ya boyfriend ends up with gettin kissed like this.. Or you greetin me in a towel when I come home.. Don’t think I mind it at all, darlin.”

[pax-2735]

GoT Fanfic: Come Into My Parlor (3/3)

Words of caution: This part has supernatural elements (sort of), implied murder, smut and dark! Jon - consider yourselves warned.

If you wanna play catch up, here’s part 1 and part 2. 

Summary: When Sansa goes to the Targaryen’s annual Halloween bash, the last thing she expected was to come face to face with her demons.

Come into my parlor

It was only after his footsteps faded, the sound of a door closing in the distance, that Sansa forced her own feet to start moving. Not towards the now dim sounds of the party, no. The last thing she wanted at the moment was to go back in there and risk another chance encounter. It was hard to imagine this night getting any shittier but the way the universe was treating her lately… she wasn’t about to take any chances.

Turning around, she went in the opposite direction.

Which is how she finds herself in her current predicament.

This must be the Halloween party from hell, she thinks grimly, as she rounds yet another corner and comes face to face with four different corridors, all leading in opposite directions.

How the fuck did I get fucking lost INSIDE this motherfucking house? How is that even fucking possible?

She knows her English Lit teacher would probably be appalled at the lack of creativity behind that sentence but right now she doesn’t give a flying fuck. Isn’t this the shittiest ending possible to the shittiest night ever?

Her initial escape from the damn party had quickly evolved into the excitement of exploring the old house. Sansa has never been the bravest of all the Stark siblings – she has, on occasion, even heard unflattering comparisons to a kitchen mouse (not even a garden mouse, for fuck’s sake) – but she has always loved exploring abandoned places. There’s something that speaks to her on a deep level, to come face to face with trinkets and artifacts that have been used and cherished long ago by people she will never know.

Harrenhal isn’t abandoned, but it had quickly become a study in contrasts, as she wondered across rooms that had been completely refurnished to its previous beauty and straight into rooms where no one had apparently set foot in more than a few decades. She’s not exactly an expert on recuperating old houses but she’s pretty sure this isn’t how they do things on The Property Brothers. The excitement had eventually soured though, once her feet had started to hurt and she had decided it was time to get back, only to discover she had no idea where ‘back’ was.

Way to go Alice. Straight into the rabbit hole.

In her defense, she has realized – belatedly, she’ll gladly admit – that this house is an absolute maze. Harrenhal was the pinnacle of Lord Whent’s dreams of grandeur and it definitely shows. Everything is huge and completely disproportional, as though it was built for giants and not men, and the inside is just as senseless. There are stairs that lead to nowhere, rooms where one would expect passageways and everything seems to be tied together in a loop from where there is no escape. She may have to resign herself to the fact that this is where she’ll spend the rest of her life, endlessly going up stairs and turning corners and never finding her way out.

You can check out anytime you’d like, but you can never leave. No wonder they say the place is haunted. At least, if everything turns out for the worse, she’ll have plenty of company.

She chooses the smallest of all four, climbs over the three crooked stone steps at the end of it and turns the corner, and comes face to face with two narrow hallways. None of this looks even slightly familiar which is good – in the sense that she hasn’t been walking in circles as she’d feared – but also bad, as it means she’s not retracing her steps back into the party.

Seven fucking hells. She really needs a drink right now. Or a cigarette. Or her cellphone so she can call the police, the fire department or even her mum. Anyone will do at this point really.

Alright, yoga remember? She takes a couple of deep breaths, starting from her belly and all the way up to her chest, to try and calm the fuck down. This isn’t impossible. All it takes is a little common sense.

There is what looks to be an open door near the middle of the corridor to her right, a soft silvery hue wrestling its way against the shadows lingering in the corners, and she makes her way there. If she can look outside maybe she’ll be able to pinpoint where exactly she is now.

Reference points and all that shit. Dad would be so proud.

The room isn’t very big and it’s crowded with old furniture underneath layers of dust, but the window is huge. The full moon stands directly in front of it, tiny wisps of clouds being pushed by the wind occasionally obscuring its glow. It’s like something right out of a witches story. That, or a slasher movie, she thinks gloomily.

Sansa remembers when she was little, how Old Nan used to tell her that she was lucky for having been born on this night, that there was something special about this time of year. She had never felt particularly lucky though. Right now, she just feels stupid. Still, she supposes, as she makes her way to the massive window, there is something beautiful about this night. Something special, that seems to call out to her.

The gardens that surround the estate are still mostly in disrepair. The grass has grown as tall as a toddler and covers the stone pathways in shades of dark greens and greys. Wild weeds have long since strangled the flower beds, leeching their way into the barks of trees that look older than time. Scattered around the edges of the greenery, antique lamp posts that have long ago grown dark stand as tall as giants, their shadows like black ghosts staring back at her.

She’s startled when she hears it at first, a low rumbling sound that seems to be coming from one of the smaller buildings to her left. Probably the kennels Ramsay was talking about earlier from the looks of it.

She frowns as she peers down at it. The thing looks mostly abandoned, with its barred windows and huge cracks lining the roof and she has a hard time imagining Jon, who is a notorious dog lover, allowing for some poor animals to be stuck in there. But there’s no mistaking the sounds coming from it.

Something heavy clenches at her chest and she suddenly feels the hairs at the back of her neck prickling, the way Lady bristles whenever she senses something foul. The gnarls coming from down below are steadily increasing in volume, something wild and untamed tearing and snarling and scratching at something, until they stop suddenly and everything is silent again. A startled bird takes flight from a nearby tree and the quiet is shattered with a long, powerful howl. Other voices soon join the first one and the black night is suddenly alight with the gut wrenching sound.

The chorus dies down gradually after some time and the night is silent once again. After the sudden howling everything seems deadly quiet, not even a speck of wind disturbing the few leaves still stubbornly clinging to the wiry branches. The only thing Sansa hears is her blood rushing in her ears.

“Sansa?”

The air hisses as she draws it in through suddenly clenched teeth as she swirls violently around. The shadow looming in the doorway jumps back and lets out a startled – and very unmanly – yelp. Her heart is still hammering away as her brain slowly begins to fire back on, her eyes widening at first and then narrowing in recognition. “Jon?”

He has a hand against his chest, the other one running through his hair in a nervous gesture she has seen on him thousands of times, and she can hear him clearing his throat before fixing her with a glare. “Seven hells, you just scared the shit out of me.”

“I scared the shit out of you? What the hell are you doing here?” she huffs.

“I was looking for you. Margaery said she left you in the bathroom but no one’s seen you since. I was worried.”

Ok, so maybe that melts her heart a little bit. “So you came looking for me?”

He shrugs in a casual manner but it does nothing to hide the pink that’s faintly coloring his cheeks underneath his beard. “Just wanted to make sure you weren’t lost or anything.”

And now it’s her turn to blush as he gives her a knowing grin. “Don’t you laugh at me,” she says, as sternly as she can.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.” He holds up his hands to emphasize his point but she can see the gleam of amusement twinkling in his eyes. “Shall we head back then?”

She huffs as she passes him and he chuckles as she stops dead in the doorway, looking left and right. “Do you want me to lead the way?” he whispers close to her ear, so close she can feel his breath on her neck and the faint smell of the beer he was drinking earlier. Gods, he could lead her straight to hell with that voice and she’d gladly follow.

She elbows him in the ribs instead. “If you’d be so kind.”

They walk mostly in silence as they make their way through winding corridors and steep stairways. Jon seems to know where he’s going, barely hesitating whenever they reach a new crossway before he leads them left or right accordingly, and Sansa begins to believe there might actually be a light at the end of this particular tunnel, and one that doesn’t include a train at that.

It’s only when they turn yet another corner and start making their way down the hall that Sansa suddenly stops, breaking the silence that has settled like a blanket over them to call out his name.

“Jon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you know where you’re going?”

“Course I do. You think I’m just walking around aimlessly?”

“You sure?”

He frowns at her, looking genuinely hurt. “You don’t trust me?”

“Normally, with my life. In this particular instance, however…” she trails off, nodding her head to her right before fixing him with a stare. His frown deepens and he retraces his steps back to where she stands leaning against a doorway and peers inside the room she just pointed at.

“Shit,” he murmurs.

She narrows her eyes. “I take it that means what I think it means.”

He gives her a sideways glance before turning back to the room, his hand running through his raven curls before he lets out a frustrated sigh. “This is the room I found you in.”

“Which means we’ve been walking around in circles this whole time.”

He turns back to her with a scowl on his face, apparently not finding any of this amusing. Well, tough luck baby. Before he can answer her though, the room erupts in a sudden flash of white light, the walls around them trembling with the force of the thunder that follows right after, making the glass rattle on the weathered windows. Sansa jumps, her jaw clenching as she bites down on the startled scream that threatens to follow suit.

“It’s just a storm Sans.”

She fumes at him. “Just a storm? Just a storm? Are you shitting me right now? This isn’t just a storm! This is Halloween, and there’s a full moon, and we’re lost inside a haunted house –“

“The house isn’t haunted,” he says, quirking his brow. “I can’t believe you believe in such –“

“And NOW there’s also a storm! I’m all for the horror mood of the season but this is getting ridiculous!”

“Hey, hey,” he says, “it’s alright Sansa.” His hands are incredibly gentle as he steps forward to rub them up and down her arms, trying to soothe her. “Look at me. We’re alright.” He’s really close now, their noses almost touching, and the breath she takes in to calm her nerves smells only of him, something earthy and warm and familiar. “Better?” he asks after a few seconds, and she nods.

“Sorry. This has been a weird night.”

He smiles, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, look at it this way. At least we don’t have an axe wielding psycho on our tail.”

The shaky smile she’s sporting dies on her lips. “I don’t know about any axe wielding but we have the psycho part down.” He stares at her, clearly not getting it, and she sighs. “Ramsay’s here.”

“What?” His voice resounds through the walls as another roll of thunder comes crashing in. “What the fuck’s he doing here?”

“He says he was invited,” she explains, as she stares at him, gauging his reaction.

“No,” he says, and there’s an absolute finality in his tone that makes her relax a bit. “There’s no way. Rhaenys and Aegon would never do that, not without talking to me first and I’d never agree to it. At least, not with these many witnesses around.” He smiles as though he’s cracking a joke but it never reaches his eyes. Instead, she sees something hard flashing in its greys depths.

Sansa shivers as another thought suddenly pops into her mind. “Do you have any dogs in here?” Jon keeps silent, his face an unreadable mask as he stares at her, no doubt trying to make sense of the sudden change in conversation. “In the kennels. I thought I heard them howling a while back,” she clarifies.

He shakes his head, giving her a puzzled look. “No one lives here. Besides, I’m the only one who has a dog and if I had brought Ghost, I wouldn’t have put him in the kennels.”

Of course. That makes sense.

Jon gives the room one last dismal look before turning back to her with a sheepish smile. “Maybe you should lead this time.”

“Yeah, because I was doing such a bang up job of it before you showed up.” Still, she starts moving, leading them back the way they came, up until the corner where she turns the opposite way. She can hear Jon’s footsteps following close behind. It’s reassuring somehow, even if he’s just as lost. She’s not alone anymore.

At the very least, he’ll make for good company even if they never find their way out.

“So let me get this straight,” he says after a while, “you ran into Joffrey, Harry and Ramsay? All three of them?”

She shrugs. “My kind of party.”

“I’ll bet,” he murmurs. “I mean, what are the odds?”

“Maybe I should try the lottery next.”

He smirks. “I have to admit though, it was very satisfying seeing you telling Joffrey off.”

She looks at him over her shoulder. “You were about to see me do the same to Harry if you hadn’t been so quick to step in.”

“He was hurting you,” he says, and that hard edge is back in his eyes.

“And my boot was about to hurt him right back. Hard.” She smiles wickedly. “I was channeling Arya. He should be thanking you.”

He lets out a startled laugh as his eyes fall to the mentioned boots. They’re black leather, soft and pliant all the way up to her knees, with some killer heels. Rickon had joked about how she could easily stab a man with those. Or maybe fuck one. Jon’s eyes are now raking up her body, over her legs and lingering slightly at the apex of her thighs, sweeping over her bodice and trailing her neck before settling on her mouth. It’s a thorough eye-fuck if she’s ever seen one. And when he licks his lips before finally locking eyes with her, she feels it like a caress over her skin.

“I wouldn’t want you to ruin them. They look…” he hesitates before giving her a devastating smile, “nice.”

She grins at his cheekiness. They have been doing this for what seems like forever now, the friendly back and forth of friendship always skirting around the edges of flirting, the eternal will-they-won’t-they that has most of their friends rolling their eyes and, in Theon’s case, probably making bets. But there’s something definitely different about tonight. Something far more deliberate, that seems to be taking them much more towards the when-will-they.

The corridor comes to a sudden end, opening up into a large room with massive floor to ceiling windows, wood paneling all around and a gigantic chandelier hanging over their heads. There’s a huge dining table at the center, complete with velvet backed chairs, the brightly polished wood seeming strangely out of place when everything else is covered in what looks to be years’ worth of dust.

“Wow.”

She cocks a brow at him. “You’ve never been here before?” she says, remembering his earlier misguided bout of confidence about knowing his way around.

He seems to be remembering the same thing as he looks sheepishly at her. “In the house? A couple of times. In this room?” His eyes take a long sweep around. “I think I’d remember something like this.”

“Well, I don’t know about you but I need a break.” She struts inside, the carpeted floors muffling the click clack of her heels. The storm is still raging outside but the lighting seems to be holding up so far, several lamps bathing the room in soft yellow hues, a stark contrast against the dark woods and blood reds of the décor. Jon follows her in, pulling up a chair for her to sit before sprawling himself in the one next to it.

“This house was always more of my father’s project. He said there was something about it that reminded him of his Valiryan roots.”

She doesn’t really know what to say to that. The stories about Old Valirya – the ones she’d heard about as a child – were always filled with gore and bloodshed, gruesome tales of incest and madness, sprinkled with just a tad of magic and witchcraft. There’s something strange about this house, that’s for sure. She can feel it in her very bones, to borrow one of Old Nan’s sayings. But she always thought there was something strange about Rhaegar Targaryen as well.

There is something she wants to tell Jon though. Something she feels is way past its due. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you at the hospital.”

The twitching of his fingers as they drum against his jean clad thigh is the only indication that he’s heard her as he keeps his eyes glued to the carpet. “It’s alright.”

She sighs as she contemplates his answer. His quiet dismissal is nothing short of expected but it isn’t what she wants. “No, it isn’t. We’ve known each other ever since we were kids. We’re friends. I should have been there.”

“You were dealing with Ramsay at the time.” His eyes have seemingly lost their interest in the swirling patterns adorning the floor and he looks straight into her own blue gaze. Somehow, it gives her the courage to forge ahead.

“Robb said you died.” She sees him flinch at her words. “He said that when he got to the hospital the doctors told him they were trying to revive you. That you had died and they didn’t know if they could bring you back.” Her voice breaks but there’s nothing she can do about it, the helplessness she always feels whenever she thinks of that terrible night threatening to pull her under until there’s nothing she can do with it but drown.

He must hear it too and suddenly he’s leaning forward, holding her hands and invading her space, breathing her in. “But they did. They brought me back.”

Her smile is probably more like a grimace, her voice barely above a whisper. “What was it like?”

He lets her go and leans back in his chair, his hands running over his face. “I don’t remember much of it. I remember the stabbing.” He shrugs as though he’s talking about something meaningless but his eyes betray the pain the memory still causes him. “I remember thinking how cold everything was, how it felt like I was drowning…” he trails off as he sees her shuddering. “And then I just remember waking up with my father beside me.”

This times it’s her that leans forward, placing her hands over his thighs in what she intends to be a comforting gesture until his eyes darken and he raises his hand to trace a finger gently over her cheek. “I could have lost you that night,” he says, and something both warm and dangerous sparks in his eyes.

She swallows before giving him a shaky smile. “I think that’s my line.”

“No, it isn’t.” He leans forward again and his face is now just inches apart from hers. “I could have lost you without never truly having you.”

He moves, just the slightest bit forward and Sansa knows he’s going to kiss her. Her hand moves up, her palm pressing flatly against his chest and he immediately stops, making her feel a surge of power. It’s intoxicating, the knowledge she can stop him with just the barest of touches, that he will submit to her so willingly. She can see the hurt and regret swimming in his eyes but for once she doesn’t regret putting them there. If they’re going to do this – finally, at long last, actually do this – she wants to be the one to take that final step. She wants to make sure neither one has cause to doubt ever again.

His fingertips are still grazing softly against her neck, as though he fears this is both the first and the last time he has the chance of doing so. Her left hand finds purchase on his arm, holding him against her, as the other one cups his face gently. His beard is scratchy against her palm as her midnight blue nails graze his skin and he closes his eyes when she finally bridges the gap between them.

Behind her closed eyelids she can see flashes of lightning and hear the rolling of thunder from the storm outside. Or maybe it’s fireworks and the mad beating of her own heart and the storm actually exists inside of her. All she knows is that his lips are soft and yielding as they move against her own, giving her complete control over the kiss, and her brain is scrambling to catch up, trying to memorize his reactions. A soft nip at his bottom lip has him groaning, the tug of her fingers in his hair makes him tilt his head as his arm snakes around her waist to pull her into his lap.

She can feel him poking against her ass, the hard plains of his chest rubbing against her nipples as she presses herself against him, and she moans. That seems to be all the encouragement he needs as his control snaps and he grabs her thighs to lift them both up, never breaking the kiss, before settling her down on the table.

Her legs are splayed open and he settles himself in between, her knees cradling his hips and reeling him in. She can feel him rubbing against her most sensitive spot, white hot sparks of pleasure searing through her body and she tears her mouth away in a gasp. His lips never leave her skin, trailing fire across her jaw line and nipping at her ear lobe before venturing down to suck at her neck. His right hand is splayed against her back, keeping her up, but his left is slowly trailing under the hem of her dress and over her thigh, his fingertips toying with the edge of her panties.

She feels the rip against her skin more than she hears it, and she means to give him a dirty look and a slight scolding – those were some of her more expensive panties, after all – but all she manages is a keening, needful sound as he takes half a step back before placing his hand fully against her core. His fingers dip beneath her folds, easily parting them, and the lady in her should feel embarrassed about how wet she already is but she can’t, not when his thumb is brushing her clit in the most delicious manner, not when he slips one and then two fingers inside of her and she can feel her toes already curling in pleasure.

Gods, but the man knows what he’s doing. Her hips buck against his hand and he snaps his eyes back to hers, a smug grin on his face, but right now he has every right to be smug, she thinks, as she grabs his face and pulls him back up to her mouth. It’s only a fleeting kiss before she’s throwing her head back, his arm around her waist the only thing keeping her up, and she lets out a wordless scream.

When she opens her eyes again her whole body is still shuddering. Jon is looking at her as he brushes a lock of hair behind her ear, the gesture incredibly sweet after what he just did to her with that hand, his eyes filled with lust and something else she doesn’t dare to name just yet.

Her fingers play with the soft hair at the back of his head, her nails raking lightly against his neck and she’s delighted when he closes his eyes, letting out a low rumbling sound. They’re still so close that she bumps her nose against his as she tilts her head to the side to whisper in his ear, “I want more.” Her hands smooth down slowly over his chest until they reach his belt, her fingers making quick work on the buckle.

“Sansa” he rasps out through gritted teeth, “we don’t have to…” Whatever else was going to come out of that gorgeous mouth is lost as she pops the button on his jeans and lets her hand play along the fine hair over his abdomen.

“I know,” she says, her hands pushing his jeans and boxers down over his hips, fingertips touching the velvety hardness before she looks back into his eyes, a coy look on her face as he bucks against her. “I want you Jon.”

His uncertainty turns into a wolfish smile, his hands gripping onto her hips to pull her towards the edge of the table, the tip of him brushing against her wet folds. “As the lady commands.”

When he slides inside of her, the only thing she can think of is that it won’t take long for her to peak again. He sets a brutal pace, his hips snapping against hers in all the right ways, his cock hitting that delicious spot inside of her with every stroke. His right arm encircles her waist, keeping her close even as his left hand moves between them to circle her clit. Her legs have wrapped themselves around his hips and her arms move around his shoulders, their tongues mimicking the movements of their lower bodies as they swallow each other’s moans.

Lightning flashes just as Sansa wrenches her mouth free to scream his name as her orgasm washes over her. She thinks she sees something violet sparking in his grey eyes as he leans forward to whisper you’re mine now against the skin of her collarbone but a second later thunder crashes, and Jon roars her name as he spills inside of her.

She’s still limp and completely boneless when he collapses against her, his weight pushing her backwards against the table, his hands moving rapidly to cushion her fall. She lets out a contempt sigh as she combs her fingers through his sweat dampened hair, willing her racing heart to finally settle back down.

He’s grinning when he finally raises his head from her chest to look down at her. “This isn’t how I thought this night would go.”

“Second thoughts already? Man, you’re fast.” Her attempt to look miffed is shattered by a squeal of laughter when his hands tickle her sides.

“Never,” he says, moving his hands up so he can settle on his forearms and give her a heart melting kiss. “My only regret is how much time I’ve wasted.” The tips of his fingers toy with the loose strands of her hair before he brings a lock up to his lips. “But I’ll never regret how tonight turned out.” His cock twitches against her inner thigh and he gives her a playful smirk.

She cocks her brow before giving him a slight shove. “Down boy.” He laughs, leaning down to give her a quick peck on the lips before straightening, his hands gripping her elbows to help her along, even as she uses her stomach muscles to lift herself up to try and chase his lips back to hers.

Jon is tucking himself back into his jeans as Sansa stares at the mess between her legs, looking around for something to clean herself up with. “Where are my panties?”

“Those are mine now,” he smirks, and she huffs at him.

“I bet you’re gonna look great in them.”

He moves back against her, his arms boxing her in as he grips the edges of the table on each side of her. His breath is warm against her neck and she feels his teeth bluntly nipping at her ear. “Want me to clean you up?”

Oh Gods, does she ever. Even though she seriously doubts her body is capable of another orgasm right now – another knee-weakening, mind-blowing, earth-shattering orgasm – she’d be lying if she said she wasn’t very, very tempted. She feels him smiling before he moves back, allowing her brain to start working again. “Raincheck?”

“Whenever you want love.” He nods his head to a small greenish door, partially hidden by the wooden paneling. “There’s a bathroom over there where you can clean up.”

She’s throwing the paper towels down the toilet, checking herself in the mirror to try and make herself look presentable – never mind the marks Jon has left on her neck and collarbone as there’s nothing she can do about that – when it suddenly hits her.  How did he know about the bathroom? Hadn’t he said he had never been here before?

She’s still frowning, trying to collect her thoughts, when a strange noise, followed closely by a moan, startles her. There’s a door on the other side of the bathroom, probably a connection to the adjoining room, and as she strains to hear it, it’s obvious there’s something happening on the other side. The door isn’t locked, or even closed properly, the hinges creaking as Sansa pushes it open and her eyes widen.

Harry is half sitting, half lying on a couch, someone Sansa instantly recognizes as the blonde zombie from the party sprawled on top of him, her hand palming him over his trousers. She can’t see the blonde’s face as it’s hidden on the crook of Harry’s neck, but Harry sees Sansa. He lets out a strangled noise, his eyes widening at her before he lifts up his hand, beckoning her to come closer and she frowns. Is that dick really inviting her to join them?

A shadow moves in her peripheral vision and the door bangs shut abruptly. Jon is looking at her in concern as he grabs her elbows and gently steers her back. “Fucking hell,” he mutters, as he gives the now closed door a dark look. “This night can’t end soon enough.”

“I’ll say,” she mutters. He pulls her against him, his arms wrapping around her as his lips graze her temple and she nudges her nose against the crook of his neck.

“What do you say we head back to the party?” He pulls back slightly to give her a boyish grin. “I promise it isn’t half as bad as it seems.”

She’s about to make a joke over the fact that they’re still as lost now as they were an hour ago, but now that the storm is finally over, she can hear the faint strains of music coming in from somewhere down the hall. She nods, tucking herself against his side as they make their way outside. And just as they’re stepping out, she catches their reflection in the mirror, hair still pretty much disheveled, the remains of her red lipstick marring the black of his shirt, his beard burn making her neck look as pink as a new born.

He looks at her through the mirror, angling his head so he can kiss her cheek while still keeping his eyes locked on hers. “Happy birthday baby,” he whispers. And this time, she can swear she sees something violet flashing in its grey depths.    

                                                            ***

Epilogue

This time, as they start back towards the party, Jon knows exactly where he’s going. It takes them only a short while before the music is blasting its way into the corridor, pulling them back into the mass of bodies drunkenly swaying across the room.

Jon brings her hand to his lips, gently kissing her knuckles before smiling. “Do you wanna dance?”

She nods and he pulls her along, twirling her around as they reach the center of the room before pulling her firmly against his chest, eliciting an excited giggle from her lips. His arms reach around her, a palm planted against her lower back, the other finding its way up her spine to tangle gently in her red locks. Her own arms have wound themselves around his neck and she tucks her head against the crook of his neck. Right where she belongs.

He knows better than to blame this pull she has on him on anything other than his own heart. He has loved her for far longer than anyone would ever suspect.

It had been his reaction to her infatuation with that asshole Joffrey that had first opened his eyes to his real feelings for his best friend’s little sister. He had watched as she lost herself in her feelings for the blond jerk, how he gave her nothing but contempt and threats in return. The desire to see him choke over his own words was so dire Jon was sure his own hands would end up doing the job.

In time, she will learn how Joffrey died on the way to the hospital, choking on his own spit as bloody foam spurted from his mouth. Allergic reaction, the people will call it. But Sansa will know the truth.

When her path to college had taken her miles away from him, he had briefly thought about following her. But his father had cautioned him against it. She needed time, he had said, time to grow into herself and learn what she wanted. Jon hadn’t liked it, but he had agreed.

He had learned about Harry from Robb and once again jealousy had reared its ugly head. But it was Robb’s own rageful comment about how that prick had cheated on Sansa that had truly sealed his fate.

In time, she will discover how the pretty zombie from the party was really someone Harry knew – or thought he knew, in any case. Rhaenys is good at getting these things arranged, even if she doesn’t have the stomach to stick around for the fallout. Sansa will be shocked, no doubt, when Harry’s body is discovered, livid and cold and mangled in one of the mansion’s secluded rooms. Too much alcohol, the people will whisper, his heart gave out. But she will know.

His own death had changed something deep inside him. He didn’t exactly lie when he told her he couldn’t remember much. He doesn’t. But what he does know is that there was someone else in the room with his father when he had woken up, and one look into the woman’s face had made it clear he wasn’t supposed to have come back. But whatever else death might have done to him, the one thing that never changed was his love for her. If anything, it just made everything clearer. He needed her. He wanted her. And he was going to have her.

He knows why she hadn’t visited him in the hospital. While he was lying in that hospital bed, she had been in a different one, recovering from wounds inflicted upon her by the prick who was supposed to love her. Ramsay is the one he’s sorry he couldn’t kill with his bare hands. She doesn’t know it – at least Jon doesn’t think she does – but soon after his release from the hospital he had paid Ramsay a visit. His knuckles had been scraped raw as he had beat the sorry motherfucker into a pulp, his face a distorted, bloodied mass by the time Jon had stopped. Sometimes he wishes he hadn’t. Stopped, that is.

In time, she will hear about the disfigured body found in what used to be the mansion’s old kennels, too eaten and torn to pieces to allow for a positive ID. There will be speculation about how it was probably some homeless guy attacked by wild animals – and won’t Aegon be pissed when he hears his hounds being referred to as such. But Sansa will know the truth.

He nudges his thigh between her legs as he presses closer to her and she lifts her head to shoot him a dirty look. Her dress is short enough as it is and he still has her panties safely tucked away in his pocket. He kisses the tip of her nose in apology as he sways her gently across the floor. He’ll behave for now. His plan is finished and Sansa is safe in his arms.

In time, she will come to learn what he is. She will know the truth about the Targaryen bloodline and heritage, how the stories of madness were mere tales to mask a much uglier truth. In time, she will accept that everything he’s done has been for her.

He twirls his fingers through her hair, gently tugging her head until he can capture her lips with his own in a whisper of a kiss. Her eyes are sparkling as she pulls back to look at him.

“I love you Jon.”

“I love you too sweetie.”

It’s time to reap his reward.

[bayleysbitchforlife]

Bayley Finally Erupts

(This is my take on how Bayley’s heel promo on MizTV should’ve went)

Bayley is sitting on MizTV, on her own as she had told Sasha to stay in the back, wanting to make an impact on her own. Sasha being the supportive sister in arms she was stayed back at Gorilla, watching on the monitors. The tension was thick... 

Miz: So Bayley, welcome, let's get right to the point. Simple question: Why?

Bayley: …..You wanna know.....why I did what I did?

Miz: -a little uneasy- Yeah...hence the question "Why?"

Bayley: Miz….have you ever been universally loved?

Miz: Well no but I-

Bayley: EXACTLY!

Bayley: You have no idea what's it like to be me! Struggling for attention amongst admittedly flashier wrestlers with a kiddie gimmick!

Miz: That may be, but why the change? Why the lashout? You changed your hair, you changed your appearance, why?!

Miz: Was it a respect issue? Did the fans not sing your song enough? Were you insecure about your looks? What was it Bayley?

Bayley: SHUT UP MIZ!

Miz: NO I DESERVE A FREAKIN ANSWER! THOSE KIDS LOVED YOU BAYLEY, THEY IDOLIZED YOU FOR 7 FREAKIN YEARS!

Miz: -takes off his shades, staring intensely into her eyes- Tell. me. Why! 

Bayley: Alright you wanna fucking know why Miz?!

Miz: YES I WANNA KNOW WHY! YOU WERE ONE OF THE NICEST GIRLS ON THE DAMN ROSTER, WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!

Bayley: -very quiet- The fans.

Miz: What? I couldn't hear you.

Bayley: THE FUCKING FANS THEY MADE ME DO THIS!

Miz: The fans?! What did the fans possibly do but love and support you through your entire-

Bayley: Let me stop you right there

Miz. The fans didn't support me all the way.

Miz: What are you talking about?

Bayley: They abandoned me for Becky.

Miz: Oh so now we're blaming Becky for our own failures huh Bayley? Wake up. Sometimes you get passed over.

Bayley: ……… -shaking with anger-

Bayley: SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH YOU A-LIST WANNABE BEFORE I KNOCK YOUR FREAKIN TEETH OUT!!!

Miz: ……..

Bayley: The reason I did what I did was because the fans they made a bad decision. Ya know its truly amazing to me how one bad decision can wreck everything you spent years building... 

Bayley: How you can spend years building up a loving relationship with the fans and convince yourself you're untouchable, that you'll have them cheering you forever, until you get passed over for the next fucking hot attraction and they plunge a fucking knife through your heart!

Miz: But that's not how a champion-

Bayley: I SWEAR TO THE HOLIEST OF DEITIES MIZ IF YOU DON'T KEEP YOUR FUCKING MOUTH SHUT AND LET ME TALK! I'M THE ONE WITH THE FUCKING TITLE, NOT YOU, NOW SHUT IT BEFORE I MAKE YOU!

Bayley: You people, you...YOU put the knife in my heart, not the other way around. I GAVE 7 FUCKING YEARS DRESSING UP LIKE AN ADULT CHILD FOR YOU PEOPLE, ALL THE HEADBANDS, ALL THE FUCKING HUGS TO RANDOM KIDS THAT PROBABLY ONLY GOT MY MERCH BECAUSE THEY WOULDN'T SHUT UP TO MOMMY AND DADDY ABOUT HAVING THE LATEST BAYLEY T-SHIRT LIKE I'M SOME KIND OF FUCKING WIND-UP DOLL FOR YOUR CHILDREN! I HAVE FUCKING FEELINGS TOO GODDAMMIT!!!

Miz: Seriously Bayley its not that big a deal.

Bayley: -deadly whisper- That does it. -sets her mic aside, getting up and kicking Miz below the belt, before taking him while he's kneeled over in pain, and delivering an elevated lifting DDT, What the former Dean Ambrose now turned Jon Moxley dubbed the Paradigm Shift in AEW spiking Miz on his head, knocking him out cold. 

Bayley: There...maybe now I can fucking FINISH without being interrupted! Bayley picked her mic back up and sat down, crossing her legs smugly. "I have always put the kids over my own pride and joy so they could have a role model and a hero to look up to that teaches them how to be loyal and to do things the right way.." 

"When I lost my title at Hell In A Cell, my heart was broken, I was sitting on an arena floor just like this CRYING, and what did my so-called fans do? They booed me and chanted You Tapped Out at me! Do you have ANY fucking idea the emotional pain and damage that did?! Do you?!"

"ALL I'VE EVER DONE IS GIVE FOR YOU PEOPLE, HEADBANDS, HUGS, INSPIRATION, LOVE! AND ALL YOU PEOPLE DID WAS TAKE, TAKE AND FRIGGIN TAKE FROM ME! YOU GAVE ME NOTHING IN RETURN!" 

"But like the champion and role model I am, I picked myself up and won back MY title. But where were all of you? Was there anyone backstage waiting to congratulate me or give me a big hug? NO! WHEN I NEEDED YOU MOST AT HELL IN A CELL WHEN I WAS HURT AND CRYING, WHERE WERE YOU?!"

"I used to think that all you needed to get ahead was to have the fans behind you. BUT NOW I CAN FINALLY SEE THE LIGHT! I CAN FINALLY REALIZE THAT ALL OF YOU ARE NOTHING MORE THAN CHEAP, HEARTLESS PARASITES WHO WILL TURN ON SOMEONE THE SECOND THEY GET HURT!!!" Bayley panted furiously, tears of anger and anguish running down her face...

"You people think you can play with someone's heart without any consequences don't you? Well there's fucking consequences! That's why I slashed your precious stupid little Bayley Buddies into fucking pieces! They represented the old Bayley, the weak pathetic little mouse of a girl who couldn't stand up for herself. She had to have everyone cheer for her and tell her how great she was like a fucking 3-year-old! All I've ever tried to do was be who they, you people wanted me to be. And look where it got me? Nothing but pain and heartbreak! All of that stops now. This is the true Bayley, the REAL Bayley. Because you all did this to yourselves, you unleashed a devil that was buried so deep in my heart I didn't even know it was there. So what happens next? That's all on you people. Know why?" 

"Because once upon a time, you made a bad decision. YOU BETRAYED ME! You betrayed me...and now I'm gonna take EVERYTHING from you that you hold dear and rip it from your hearts just like you did to me. Your smiles...your joy...and your heroes." 

She gave a sadistic smile. "So you guys want some inspiration?" She asked before her face melted into a murderous glare. "FUCK ALL. OF. YOU AND BURN IN HELL!!!" She yelled, slamming the mic down so hard it broke on impact as her new heel theme played...

[vamillepudding]

Bad Bargains Part 2

Everyone’s reactions to this were so incredibly flattering, thank you so much !! This is part 2 and what I hope to be a semi-satisfying ending to this story. (Again: Also up on Ao3) I tried writing comfort, but it ended up being angst, because I’m a moron

Enjoy !

**

Before the doctors take Tommy into the emergency surgery, his hand catches Alfie’s wrist. The drugs haven’t taken effect yet, but his mind feels fuzzy anyway as he asks: “Will you be there when I-“ He catches himself before he can actually finish that question, already regretting that he opened his mouth in the first place. It would seem that two – three? – days in captivity were already enough to lower his defences, to make him careless. Fuck. Hopefully Alfie hasn’t even heard him right.

Or he’ll blame it on the morphium that he can now feel slowing down his thoughts. Is Alfie saying something? He can’t make out the words. But if Alfie doesn’t want to stay, then that’s fine, he decides, and gives in to the sweet promise of nothingness for the next hours.

**

The sun has set by the time Alfie is done dealing with the immediate aftermath of that rescue mission. Ollie has disappeared off to god knows where (if God were in the habit of knowing such trivial things or, indeed, things in general, which in Alfie’s experience he isn’t) and everyone else has finally gone home.

It turns out that Jon Bailey owned a couple of Birmingham race tracks that are now Alfie’s race tracks. He doesn’t feel bad about this. If he hadn’t taken this opportunity to expand, someone else would have.

Now that all is over and done with, he just wants to go home. Home means London, means Camden Town, but at some point along the line, it has also begun to mean Tommy. So if that means spending some time in Birmingham, so be it. His people can handle things on their own for a few days.

To make good on that decision, he goes straight to the Shelbys’ house where he lets himself in with the key John foolishly left lying on the kitchen table yesterday, and enters Tommy’s room before anyone can spot him and complain. Tommy is reading the newspaper, because of course he is. Probably reckons that the worst thing about his capture is that he’s no longer up to date on which politician screwed up again.

But then he lowers the paper to look at the intruder, and Alfie thinks that no, not even Tommy can be that casual about what happened, not with a bruised face like that, not with that look in his eyes.

“And suddenly there came a tapping. Did Arthur let you in?” His speech isn’t slurred. Alfie doesn’t know why he thought it might be, after the surgery that would have taken care of that cheekbone. Tommy’s words are as clear as ever, able to tear a man to shreds if he isn’t careful.

“’Tis the wind and nothing more, except it’s also me, coming to check that you haven’t ripped those stitches out yet and gone back to work.”

“Not just yet,” Tommy says. “Don’t suppose you’d agree to bring me a glass of that whiskey over there? – No, didn’t think so” he adds when Alfie instead takes the bottle from the table in the corner and pours its content onto the floor.

“So,” says Alfie, sitting down on the chair next to the bed and leaning his cane against the wall, “how are you feeling?”

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” he asks, as if he doesn’t know perfectly well. “Wanna know what I think?”

“Not particularly,” Tommy says coldly. “Maybe you should go, eh? Been here far too long.”

“Fucking hell. That’s a nice way of saying thank you, that is. Better get some more sleep, this perpetual state of wakefulness can’t be good for you. Or the people around you, for that matter.” The chair isn’t very comfortable, but it’ll have to do. Alfie makes sure to take off the hat and his overcoat before making himself at home.  

“I think I asked you to go.” Tommy is doing his best impression of a man ready to kill someone with his bare hands. Alfie is overcome by the sudden urge to kiss him, but has a feeling that any attempt to get close to him would result in a fist to the face. Not entirely undeservedly, perhaps. So instead he just props up his feet on the edge of the bed.

“Can’t go while it’s cold outside, mate. I’ll fucking freeze to death in this weather.”

“It’s summer.”

“Oh, I’m cold-blooded. You don’t want to send me into my own personal damnation, do you, Thomas?” Alfie asks as he takes off his waistcoat, too, and pointedly closes his eyes.

Later that night, he is woken by a scream, and promptly falls off his chair.

Tommy is thrashing and turning. It’ll only be a matter of time until he opens the gunshot wound if he carries on like that, so Alfie gets up and does the first thing he can think of, which is to physically hold Tommy down and force him to cease his movements. At first, it seems to work: Tommy goes still instantly. But then the shaking starts, and now Alfie is starting to think that maybe his method wasn’t the best course of action after all.

“Tommy,” he tries. “Wake up, love.” More shaking. He almost wishes that it really were winter, that he could blame this on the cold. Tommy’s eyes snap open after a few more agonising moments of waiting. “You weren’t there, earlier,” he says, the words barely more than a hoarse whisper. “I asked if you’d be there, and you weren’t. I thought-“ He doesn’t need to finish the sentence for Alfie to know exactly what he thought. This isn’t a conversation either of them need to have right now, though.

“Go back to sleep. We’ll talk tomorrow.” Fuck it, Alfie thinks, and gets into bed with Tommy.

When Arthur comes in the next morning to check in on his brother, he finds him still asleep, tightly wrapped into Alfie’s arms.

**

When he woke up in the hospital, the first thing he noticed was that Alfie wasn’t there. He didn’t even have time to time to panic about that, though, because then he noticed who was there instead.

Aunt and nephew looked at each other. It was Polly who spoke first.

“I wasn’t going to pay.”

“I know,” Tommy said.

“Arthur wanted to. But Shelbys don’t pay ransoms.”

“I know” he repeated, because he did know. Because he agreed. Because this was what Polly herself had taught him, once upon a time.

She moved to leave then, having delivered her message, but turned around one more time. “Don’t die. This family needs you.”

And that’s just the thing, isn’t it? Nothing of what Polly told him is news to him. He knew it when he was 10 years old, he knew it when he was beaten up by a bunch of men in a dark room, and he knows it now, two days after the rescue, when he’s lying awake next to Alfie.

No point in postponing it any longer. Might as well get it over with. After all, this is what Tommy has spent almost 48 hours working up his nerve for.

He reaches over and gives Alfie’s shoulder a shake, then another one until the other man grunts: “For fuck’s sake, don’t you ever sleep?”

“Alfie.”

There must be something in the way he said it, because the owner of that name now sits up, instantly alert. “What’s wrong?”

“You spoke to my family, planned to break into that warehouse. You needed them to do it. You must’ve spoken to them.”

“I did,” Alfie agrees, his wariness detectable even from the other side of the bed, every part of his body radiating vigilance.

“They told you the situation, but you must’ve already known about that. They told you the demands, but you must have had that figured out already, too.”

“What can I say? I’m a smart bloke. Always did get top marks in school, I did. Bet you did, too, eh? Yeah, I can see it in your eyes. You’re a smart lad, too.”

He doesn’t allow himself to get distracted. Not now. Not with this. “Polly told you that they wouldn’t agree to anything Bailey wanted,” he guesses. “She told you they would try a rescue if the benefits outweighed the risks, but otherwise, you’d be on your own.” It’s a shot in the dark, but just like Alfie believes he can read Tommy’s eyes, his own eyes, too, tell a story. “You have a business to run too. You knew she was right. So my question is, Alfie – what were the benefits of all this? What did you get out of it, eh?”

For once, Alfie doesn’t immediately answer. Then, slowly, like the words are being forced out of him:

“I did take over his racetracks, but-“

And just like that, he’s not in any pain anymore. He stopped taking the prescribed pills immediately and spent the past two days hurting practically all the time. Now he’s just numb. To test this, Tommy absently touches his cheek where they remodelled his cheekbone. Nothing. What a curious sensation. He pokes harder still and discovers that he appears to have lost the ability to feel anything at all.

“-stop that,” Alfie snaps. “As I was saying, if you’d fucking bothered to listen, I may have benefited a tiny bit, but really if you look at the grand scheme of things, it is absolutely fucking clear to any man who’s not a fucking moron that I did not come looking for you to gain some fucking tracks.”

“Of course not. You rescued me out of love, eh? The great Alfie Solomons, rushing to the rescue of the love of his life.”

“And what if I did?”

“Then I’d say you’re a liar on top of everything else.”

Alfie stands up so fast that his cane hits the floor with a loud thud. “Yeah, you know what, Tommy? Fuck you, mate.” And just like that, Tommy is alone again, thinking, absurdly and against all reason, that Alfie has never seemed more attractive than in this moment.

**

Sometimes Alfie wishes he’d drink. Everyone else in his life does (which isn’t that surprising, considering his place of work), and from what he can gather, it seems to be everyone’s favourite way of escape. Well, that, or sex, but neither of those are options.

So because Alfie isn’t in the habit of drinking or fucking people that aren’t Tommy, he just wanders through the depressingly bleak streets of Small Heath, thinking of the way Tommy cried out when the bullet hit him. It was a necessary move, and he’s always had good aim, but he keeps thinking of the What If – what if the bullet had struck just a few inches to the left, what if Bailey had moved in the last second, what if Tommy will now forever associate that scar with Alfie.

It's not a nice thought, but if Alfie doesn’t wallow in self-pity he’ll surely think of their last conversation instead, and then he’ll get angry.

He's trying so hard not to get angry.

They didn’t break up. It wasn’t a breakup. If Tommy thinks it is, well, then he is clearly wrong, isn’t he? Because if their relationship ever did end, it – alright. It would be exactly like this, wouldn’t it, seeing as Tommy is one manipulative son of a bitch and Alfie allows himself to be provoked way too easily. It would appear that even after more than a year, he still hasn’t learned his lesson.

Neither, apparently, has Tommy.

If he did drink, Alfie thinks this would be the moment where he’d down his glass of rum to prepare for the confrontation lying ahead. Things being the way they are, he’ll just have to choose the less dramatic route of simply walking back to the house.

That’s alright, though. For Tommy, he’d walk a lot longer if he had to.

He'd walk to the edge of the world and beyond.

**

Tommy ruins things. Usually with neither purpose nor malicious intent, but that doesn’t change the inevitable results. He ruins things, and one day soon he’ll have everyone whom he ever meant anything to pushed away. He’ll be all alone with his thoughts then, no one to distract him from them for even a minute, which is perhaps the worst kind of punishment there is.

When that happens, he’s not going to last very long at all.

In retrospect, he probably should have known that his relationship with Alfie wouldn’t last either. He did know, knew it from the very beginning. But then the occasional fuck turned into a weekly one, turned into spending whole weekends together, turned into surprise visits and late-night phonecalls and games of chess and taking walks and trying to figure out when Alfie’s birthday is and then spending a couple of weeks silently panicking about whether a gift would be inappropriate or appreciated.

Falling in love was never the plan, but then, neither were most things in Tommy’s life. And like most things, this, too, has turned into a monumental fuckup.

Alfie is probably on his way to London by now. He has half a mind to call Ollie. Just to inform him that his boss might be in a bit of a mood when he gets home. Then again, that would presuppose any hurt feelings on Alfie’s part, which Tommy isn’t too sure about. Annoyed that he lost a quick screw, maybe.

Maybe he’ll send a card soon. Just let Alfie know that their business partnership still stands. Or should he offer something more? Alfie did save him. Granted, he did it for his own advantage, but Tommy still owes him, and he can’t stand the thought of owing anyone anything. Perhaps he can give Alfie a better deal on the rum trade he has with the Peaky Blinders. Well, he’ll see. Next week will be soon enough.

He feels better now, his mind clearer. He has a plan, and plans are good. It’s almost like he’s finally regained control – over himself, his love life, the business, the whole fucking world.

All of this crumples to pieces when Alfie walks back in.

“Shut up.” As far as conversation starters go, this was one of his nicer ones. “I can look into that pretty face and know exactly what you’re going to say next, because I have recently acquired the power of mind reading. Funny business, that. So if you were going to tell me that you expected me to have hit the road by now, you can just shut your fucking mouth and listen.” Tommy, faintly embarrassed, stops himself from saying that exact same thing, and raises an expectant eyebrow instead.

Maybe this is where -

For once he doesn’t have a pessimistic prediction on what’s going to happen next. Whatever Alfie is going to say – there is no way it can make things worse somehow.

“I got you a gift,” Tommy blurts out, and Alfie stops dead in his tracks.

“You what?”

“A gift. For your birthday. I know it was in May, and that we don’t do this sort of thing, but Ollie told me, so I got you a gift.”

“It’s August,” Alfie says, dazedly, like the conversation has gotten away from him. Maybe it has, for the first time in his life.

“I know.” He’s had it since April, actually, but then on the day of Alfie’s actual birthday Alfie didn’t say anything, so Tommy didn’t say anything. He’s had half a mind to dump it inside the river a number of times. But he never did get around to it.

And then, something odd happens. Alfie starts to laugh. It’s the laugh of a man who feared he lost everything and discovered that this, indeed, is not the case. He laughs, and laughs, and when he’s done he comes to the bed to kiss Tommy on the mouth.

In the first moment, it’s like he’s back in that room, like this is one of Bailey’s goons taking liberties.

But there is no force and no blood, no bugs crawling under his skin at the mere notion of it.

Alfie, clearly noticing him freezing up, stops and pulls back a little in order to properly look at Tommy. He doesn’t ask if he’s alright, which somehow helps.

Is he alright? Tommy isn’t sure. During the whole time he was captured, it didn't seem like the situation was worth getting truly upset over. There were other things to do, like trying to escape and trying not to die.

Now, he’s achieved both of those. In a few days he’ll take up the paperwork again, and as soon as he can walk without keeling over, he’ll be back on the streets.

There is no question about this, no counterargument to be made. Tommy can move on, so he will.

And really, isn’t that what it’s all about?

So he buries his fingers in Alfie’s hair and succumbs to the kiss, and finally feels like he’s left that room behind.

**

Arthur knows that historically, he’s not been a great brother. One time, back in school, an older boy beat Tommy up. Just caught him after class, beat the shit out of him, left him lying in the mud. It should have been Arthur’s job to take care of this. He didn’t. Never got the chance to, seeing as the following day, Tommy took a razor with him to school and made that boy regret ever laying a finger on him. Said boy never did it again. Didn’t have any fingers left, did he?

The point is that Arthur wants nothing more than to keep his family safe. And ever since his mum let Arthur hold the bundle of blankets that was his brand-new little brother, the latter has been a part of that family.

Him getting kidnapped is unacceptable. And yet again, there is nothing Arthur could do about it. Again. This time, Tommy didn’t have a razor, but he had that insane guard dog also known as Alfie Solomons, who is just as deadly.

He knows, too, that Tommy would never blame him for his lack of action. Somehow, that makes things worse. Tommy should be angry, should be absolutely fucking livid about his big brother’s failure. But he isn’t, and hell if that doesn’t make Arthur feel even guiltier.

He hovers in the house until he hears Alfie leave Tommy’s room, waits until the other man has gone down the stairs, then puts his hand on the door handle – and hesitates.

He goes to the Garrison to have a drink instead.

**

On Christmas Eve, an old lady named Catherine Bailey opens the door to find a bouquet of flowers delivered to her.  

[admittedlynotspartacus]

“Game of Thrones” Season VIII: Episode 1 - Eighth Verse, Same as the First

All right you sons of bitches, here we motherfucking go. The last six episodes. I want to see you wrapping yourselves up in fur, hopping on your nearest dragon, and shaking your asses... because winter? She’s here.

WARNING: Spoilers for the latest episode below, so if you haven’t seen it and don’t know yet who dies, who fucks who, and just how many times Bran was creeping in his wheelchair, turn back now.

WINTERFELL

Okay, so after the credits are like -

we see this rando little boy running around and we’re kinda like, “Little Boy, what the fuck are you up to?” And he’s like -

And it’s kinda like “Okay, little boy, chill the fuck out because D-Baby and J’Snow are COMING. TO. TOWN.” So they’re strutting in like -

And Arya’s watching like -

but also a little like -

And meanwhile during all this, Barack and Michelle are looking around all -

Anyway, the whole thing is like kinda gorgeous and super nostalgic but like in a good way and we’re kinda like, “This might actually just be really fucking great.” But then D&D are like, “Boy, do we have a fucking treat for you guys, ‘cause the first line of the season? Yeah, it’s gonna be a joke about how Varys doesn’t have a dick!”

And what’s more constant on Game of Thrones than dick jokes? No, aside from gratuitous nudity. No, also aside from sexual violence against women. Yes, that’s right. Dragons. The lone survivors come flying over Winterfell, and Arya’s like -

while Sansa is all -

Truly not having it. Okay, so finally J-Snow winds up in the Winterfell courtyard and we see somebody creeping in the corner of the frame like -

SURPRISE! IT’S BRAN! And J-Snow’s all, “Yo little bro, it’s so crazy to see you. You’re totally a grown ass man now.” And Bran is all -

And we’re like, “Cool, so he’s like TOTALLY just a fucking meme now, got it.” 

Meanwhile, tensions are HIGH inside the Meeting Hall when Lady Sophia Grace reads. J-Snow. To. Filth.

And so it’s like drama, drama, drama, but like none of it ultimately matters because guess who’s fucking back with like a REAL White Supremacist haircut?

That’s right. Hide yo kids. Hide yo wife. And also minorities, because... that haircut is a little concerning.

He’s basically like, “Gotta have more coal, gotta have more coal,” while P-Dinky and Sansa have That Awkward Remember When We Got Married talk and Bran watches from the courtyard like -

Then for Reunion #5,765 we’ve got Arya and J-Snow. Arya is all, “You used to be taller,” and J-Snow is like, “You used to seem less like a sociopath.” 

Anyway, they bond over Arya’s sword and he’s like, “Have you ever used it?” And she’s just like -

And then J-Snow is like, ‘Look at us, we have swords, we have so much in common, also ISN’T SANSA A BITCH?” And Arya’s just like -

KING’S LANDING

So Cersei is literally dressed like this.

when Uncle Freddie Mercury struts into the Throne Room, and this time he’s brought Jon Bon Jovi along for the ride.

HEY, GURL! So Cersei’s pretty stoked that she has Bon Jovi’s army, but also a little bit like -

Meanwhile, Uncle Freddie’s just got one thing on his mind.

And after putting up a little bit of a fight, Cersei is just like -

And then we just cut to Bronn Piece of Fucking Shit in the middle of this -

when Maester Frankenstein bursts in all -

So the Boob Ladies have gotta go, but not before one of the craziest things ever to happen on this show goes down. First one of the Ladies goes to Maester Frankenstein all -

And then he literally says, “Poor girl. The pox will take her within the year.”

Yeah, glad we’re spending time on this. Anyway, I guess Cersei like... wants Bronn to kill Jaime and P-Dinky. Sure. Next.

Cersei is post-coital and all she can think about is -

While Uncle Freddie is just like, “Girl you make me wanna get you pregnant,” and she’s just like -

Meanwhile, outside on Uncle Freddie’s ship, all the guards are suddenly like -

except legit one of them already has a fucked-up eye before he gets shot. I’m not even kidding, check it back... so I guess, no harm no foul? Anyway, it turns out it’s Theon rescuing his sister. And clearly we’re supposed to all be like -

But instead it’s kinda like -

Like. So easy that they steal a bunch of Uncle Freddie’s ships. Again. Like, Freddie. Get on your shit.

WINTERFELL

Back here, Varys is singing my favorite Harry Styles song.

While D-Baby and J-Snow are running around like -

Like truly has there ever been a piece of entertainment so sure we are invested in a couple and so wrong as Thrones is with these two?

But gird your loins, people because D-Baby is like “If you wanna be my lover, you gotta RIDE MY FUCKING DRAGON.” So J-Snow is like -

and then it just turns into this -

meets this -

Because when your lead actors don’t have chemistry, it’s best to surround them with CGI gobbledegook and then make them say the most fuckboy of fuckboy things ever. J-Snow: It’s cold up here for a southern girl. D-Baby: So keep your queen warm.

Anyway, back to the real show.

Much better. So it’s time for the second leg of the Arya Reunion Tour. We’ve got the Hound. We’ve got Gendry. And the Hound is all, “You left me for dead.” And Arya’s all, “Nuh-uh, first I stole that PAPER.” And the Hound is like -

“Peace.” So then it’s just Gendry and Arya. And Gendry’s all, “Gurl you look GOOD.” And Arya’s like, “Yo I hate being called milady except when it’s YOU ON THE OTHER END.” And I’m literally like SALIVATING for these two to just BONE already.

But first Arya shows him some shitty drawing and is like, “Can you make this?” And he’s like -

So then we get to what winds up being the best part of the episode, which is the only time that term can be applied to anything relating to Samwell Tarly. I know, I’m just as surprised as you. So D-Baby struts in to see him and she’s all, “You’re the man.” 

And she’s like, “Sure. I mean the man who healed Ser Jorah! THANKS FOR THAT!”

“Oh, also, by the way. I literally burnt your father alive.” And Sam’s all -

But then he’s like, “Wait, but now I can move back in with my brother!”

And she’s like, “Okay so I burnt him alive as well.”

So Sam’s like -

So he’s having a bad day, right? Like it’s horrible enough that he has to deal with this shit, and when he goes outside he almost gets hit by a fucking wagon, but the worst of the worst is that he winds up running straight into -

And it’s like BRAN! WHY HAVE YOU BECOME THE WEIRD WALDORF KID WHO CUTS HIS OWN HAIR AND LISTENS TO WAY TOO MUCH COLDPLAY?!?! AND WHAT ARE YOU DOING JUST SITTING HERE?!?!

Ugh, whatever. So he’s like, “Sam. It’s time to tell Jon the truth.” And Sam’s like, “Oh, bitch, you bet it fucking is.” So he storms down to J-Snow and tells him the two words he needs to hear most.

THE LAST HEARTH

So Ginger Wildling and Eyepatch Dude somehow survived the Wall falling.

And they’re wandering around this place we’ve never been before all -

When suddenly they run into a bunch of Night’s Watch people and That Night’s Watch Dude Who’s Been Around forever shouts the thing I thought all Oscar season about Bradley Cooper -

“STAY BACK! HE’S GOT BLUE EYES!”

But then everybody chills the fuck out and they go into this room where this little dead boy is the centerpiece of some bizarre art installation by the Night Queen.

And they’re like, “Notice the use of light” when suddenly the dead little boy is like -

and they’re like -

Which makes for Child Burning #2 on this show. So that’s good.

WINTERFELL

Okay, so then we’ve got Mysterious Hooded Figure approaching the castle. And I’m like... “Melisandre?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like... “Littlefinger?!?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like... “Beyonce?!?” And the show’s like...

And I’m like -

Until he looks over. And who else should he see but -

This fucking kid.

BOOB COUNT: 3 pairs BODY COUNT: 1 (RIP Ned Umber, whoever the fuck you are) EPISODE GRADE: B-

Okay, so this spot used to be reserved for SER POUNCE’S STRAY THOUGHTS, but then D&D announced Ser Pounce is dead because they’re cruel bastards. So I announce the installation of:

THE SER POUNCE MEMORIAL FOR STRAY THOUGHTS

I was one hundred percent down with the echoes of the pilot episode - Arya clocking the little boy watching the procession just as she had, the scoring. I typically hate when movies or shows repeat earlier stuff in their home stretches, but this was well-done and satisfying nostalgia porn.

Why do we continue these ball jokes? Does anybody genuinely think they’re funny anymore? ANSWER ME!!!

There’s a long linger on Bran’s first look at Daenerys. I suppose this could be because he knows she’s Jon’s aunt, but maybe he knows something else in her future. But also who gives a fuck, Bran’s nuts.

Okay, so this Tyrion trusting Cersei shit - there’s gotta be something going on here, because I don’t believe for a second Tyrion would believe she’d actually come unless he, as suspected, struck some kind of deal with her. He says, “She has something to live for now,” which ties back to the moment we cut away from their scene last year. Could he have made some sort of deal about the baby? As in he will fight for the Lannister lineage? I don’t know what this means yet, but I will justify hardcore when the show starts making Tyrion look like a fucking dumbass.

It’s so frustrating that Jon is right - everybody does need to work together - and yet he seems to not accept that it’s completely valid that people should be challenging his leadership tactics after botching two military operations the last two seasons. I’m so over him.

Harry Strickland’s entrance with 6 episodes left feels suspect. Let us not forget that in the books there is the other Aegon who is represented by the Golden Company. We don’t know where that plotline is going, but it’s very possible Strickland is this character incognito, and that he will ultimately be the one to kill Cersei. He has only a few moments in this episode, but his looks at Cersei and the Red Keep are quite loaded.

I hate no character more than Bronn and I am also certain no character will survive more than Bronn.

Moments like the elephant shit turn these characters into campy weirdos that make me wonder if D&D even like these people at all.

I suppose I’m mildly interested in the fact that Cersei has so alienated herself from everyone that she has to turn to Euron for the tiniest bit of comfort. But then I remember that Euron is one of the most lazily-written villains ever and I stop caring.

Boy, the buildup for the Theon rescue mission was so great and boy, the payoff was lousy.

“I don’t know how to ride a dragon.” “Nobody does, until they ride a dragon.” Television writing - so easy a fourth grader could do it.

Dragon doesn’t like Jon kissing Daenerys. Does dragon want to fuck Daenerys?

As much as Sansa is calling Jon on the carpet about his allegiance with Daenerys and his seeming ineptitude at leading, she has even more grounds to be pissed off than she’s showing here. I’m hopeful that we are meant to side with her and that it isn’t the show just giving Jon another free pass for being the de facto “hero” of the show.

And the MVP of the episode shockingly goes to John Bradley, who is heartbreaking in his scene with Daenerys. Moreover, combining the Targaryen reveal to Jon with the notion that Jon may be turning a blind eye to Daenerys’ more psychopathic tendencies sets up a really interesting conflict that hopefully the rest of the season cashes in on. And having it come from the one person Jon knows wouldn’t lie to him made it all the more powerful.

“My father was the most honorable man I ever met” - the words of denial

“You gave up your crown to save your people. Would she do the same?”

So obviously the Bran stuff is just a fucking lost cause at this point. But even I will admit the symmetry of the ending with Jaime took me by surprise and gave me chills. I’m not a monster.

NEXT WEEK: Jaime’s got some ‘splainin’ to do.

[hcnsohee]

2k17 wishlist:

Okay so, under the cut you’ll find a few things that I’ve been wanting to do for a while now. Come at me one and all! Just IM me and we’ll plot things <3

Wanted pairings (bold means I want to play that fc):

Peyton List x Wentworth Miller

Phoebe Tonkin x Charlie Cox (bonus if he’s visually impaired)

Phoebe Tonkin x Charlie Hunnam

Phoebe Tonkin x CMD

Phoebe Tonkin x Matt Daddario

Phoebe Tonkin x Rami Malek

Riz Ahmed x Diego Luna

Karla Souza x Charlie Webber

Elodie Yung x Charlie Cox

Elodie Yung x Jon Bernthal

Dick Grayson x Kara Danvers

Dick Grayson x Damian Wayne

Dick Grayson x Jason Todd

Damian Wayne x Tim Drake

Dinah Lance x Oliver Queen

Wanted FCs:

Diane Guerrero

Christian Serratos

Emeraude Toubia

Kylie Bunbury

Ashley Graham

Alfie Enoch

John Boyega

Jai Courtney

Wanted Opposites: (there are only males because I love all the females you throw my way tbh, but i’m picky when it comes to men)

Alfie Enoch

Tom Payne

Steven Yeun

Norman Reedus

Oscar Isaac

Hugo Silva

Aaron Tveit

Samuel Larsen

Sam Heughan

Rami Malek

Ezra Miller

Jai Courtney

Wanted plots (if you don’t like any of these, here’s my tag):

Any supernatural plot, come at me.

Modern Greek Gods.

Experienced detective x rookie detective/police officer

All the vigilante x civilian plots

High school sweethearts. Muse A leaves town and when they come back ten years later, they’re a doctor and Muse B is an outlaw (picture Jax x Tara from SoA. I’d love to play muse a here).

give me a plot where muse a is dying to have a baby/get pregnant to the point where she is stressing out because she thinks her biological clock is really ticking even though she’s in her 20s. so her friend has been setting her up on blind dates to try and help her find a guy but on the first date the first thing she asks is if they want kids and it scares them away. so muse a’s friend sets her up on a blind date with their brother which is super awkward to think about. and when muse a asks about kids muse b seems neutral about it and doesn’t run away and muse a is taken aback by it. and he sorta just… agrees to help her have a baby. so they wind up sleeping together a bunch of times in hopes of getting pregnant and muse b told muse a they are only in it for the kid they don’t want to complicate things. but then muse a starts getting a baby bump and they start buying little baby shoes together and they go to ultrasound appointments and the more muse b falls in love with his baby he falls in love with its mommy too and ): (I’d love to play muse a here)

all i want right now is a cliché undercover marriage 1x1 where there’s two spies who hate each other and everyone knows it but now they’re the only two avalible for this long term undercover mission as a married couple in an apartment/suburb and they have to be believable through dinner parties and etc. just pleASE give this to me

a “i’m a single dad but i also strip at night to pay the bills & ur my kid’s kindergarden teacher & oh shit i just showed up to strip at ur friend’s bachelorette party please don’t think i’m a bad dad” plot

Give me a vampire couple that’s been on and off again for like hundreds of years. Like they fight like crazy and break up and not see each other again for a long time but then come back together like nothing has changed and are all over each other in love. They won’t admit it but they’ll love each other forever no matter what, even if they’re not always together.

how about instead of a broke roommates make a sex tape for cash plot we make an alternative where they’re broke and in desperate need of money on more than just one occasion so they decide to fuck on a live sex website where viewers can request things they wanna see the muses do and maybe muse a is a little more shy and after one request they’re like wait they want us to do WHAT and muse b is like c’mon babe it’ll feel awesome i’ll show you just relax and it kind of becomes a hit and they start doing it a few times a week and then add in some angst if one of them starts seeing someone but continues sleeping with the other muse and it gets super messy and super sexy and they can explore all of these new kinks / positions / everything together (you must be 18+ for this plot)

I’ve been dying for a “we went to high school together and i’ve been totally fixated since the moment i laid eyes on you back in freshman year but you were the most popular girl in school - prom queen, class president, valedictorian and here i was, merely an average student, with a few average friends and spent all my free time doodling comics that would never amount to anything in my sketchbook. i swore i’d get the chance to know you before high school ended but now it’s come and gone and you’re off at some prestigious college maybe harvard, or yale while i’m stuck in our average state university trying to better my grades to get into art school but you haven’t left my mind and you’re the biggest inspiration in my comics and yeah, maybe the awesome, beautiful, crime fighting leading woman in my comics does resemble you a bit and now it’s summer and you’re sipping your tea and reading some book that i’m sure is far too intellectual for me to ever comprehend in this cafe and i bolt out at the sight of you but shit - i dropped one of my sketches and it’s so obviously you and there’s no time to grab it before you see it.” pLOTTTTTTTTT

gimme a plot where a very single wedding planner who truly believes in the magic of love meets a lawyer who’s specialized in divorces who thinks marriage and love are non-existent.

lowkey want a plot where muse a is this big and tough guy with a lot of tattoos and some piercings and people are scared of him because of his looks ( thinking that he’s probably rude and should stay away ) when all he really wants is someone to help out him and his 3 year old daughter ( since he’s a single parent and the daughter’s birth mother left when his daughter was only a few months old ) because they’ve been living in his car pretty much since the day she was born and have been going across the country but end up stopping in muse b’s town and end up meeting them at her local flower shop. now, muse b has always been known to be a very sweet and empathetic person so she takes it upon herself to give him her number and say that she’s always willing to help. muse a doesn’t really think much of it or her until his car breaks down and he calls her for help. one thing leads to another and all of a suddenmuse b is offering to have muse a and his daughter stay at her apartment with her until they get back on their feet. after a while, things between muse a and muse b start to go from strictly platonic to almost romantic and would you look at that ??they start dating.

dude forget teacher/student relationships what about a teacher/teacher relationship where muse a is a math teacher and muse b is the cute new art teacher and they sort of strike up a conversation the day before the first day of school like “haha, good like controlling these hormonal teenagers” and they become like awkward friends who always run in to each other in the teacher’s lounge or always go to each other’s rooms for extra copy paper even though they’re fucking across the school from each other and all the students ship it and lmao help

screw bad boys/good girls, gimme a plot about a typical all-american dude, who plays football and has a pretty girlfriend and is going to a good college because he’s such a good quarterback and drives around a Rover because it’s safe and doesn’t really like doing drugs and rarely ever drinks and then bam! here comes the bad girl, who wears black clothes and red lipstick and stroll around school like she owns it and has broken half of the school’s population’s hearts at least twice and for some reason he’s intrigued by her and she takes some kind of interest towards him and then when he realizes he’s in love with her and he switched his safe Range Rover for an old Mustang and is smoking in the parking lot with a bad girl on his lap and punching his judgey friends and being suspended and he’s loving every part of it, because he’s free and he has her. (except no high school please. we’ll shift this to college and whatnot. I’d love to play the bad girl here because I like corrupting people mwahaha)

[admittedlynotspartacus]

“Game of Thrones” Season VII: Episode 4 - Blazing Saddles

WARNING: SPOILERS for the latest episode below, so if you haven’t seen it and don’t know yet who dies, who fucks who, and how many times J-Snow reminds us he’s seen the Night King, turn back now.

THE ROAD FROM HIGHGARDEN

When one quip-meister dies, another returns; Bronn is back, even though his dialogue is now just mainly variations on the words “fuck” and “cunt.” Regardless, he’s here and he is NOT happy with the lil’ ol’ bag o’ gold Jaime gave him from the Highgarden loot.

Anyway, basically what’s happening is the Lannisters are taking all the food in the Reach (I know, I know, it seems like a process but Sam’s Dad and his son Dickbag or whatever assure us that they “have teams of men working on this”). And they’re all gonna Oregon Trail it back to King’s Landing and try not to get dysentery or cholera.

KING’S LANDING

Mycroft is back. And he is mincing.

Basically, he’s like, “Blah Blah Blah Braavos blah blah blah bitch betta have my money.” And Cersei’s just like -

WINTERFELL

If there was any doubt we need to talk about Bran after last week, it is now gone. Because he turned FULLY into that kid in high school who watched Fight Club, listened to Radiohead, and unlocked all the secrets of the universe. In short, as the “Previously on” segment reminds us, he’s gone from this -

to this -

At this moment, Littlefinger somehow cornered him alone in a room and is giving him the dagger way back from Season 1 like -

But Bran’s just like -

Until Littlefinger is like, “It must be so hard, beebee, to come back from abroad to all this chaos.” And Bran looks him straight in the face and says -

And Littlefinger is all -

Anyway, Meera shows up. And apparently she’s leaving. So she’s all crying and bummed out like, “Oh my God, Bran, I’m gonna miss you so much.” And he’s literally just like -

So she gets pissed. Rightfully fucking so. But she’s like crying and yelling at him like -

But Bran’s just like -

CUT TO OUTSIDE WINTERFELL where our favorite little sociopath Arya is HERE.

But we can’t get too excited because these two fucking dumbasses won’t let her into the castle. She’s like, “Listen fuckers, I’m Arya” and they’re just like, “All right, sit here and wait” and then they start arguing like -

But they don’t know she’s a ninja so they’re shocked when they turn around and she’s disappeared into the crypts, where Sansa finds her and it’s just like -

And when they finally hug, there’s no like crazy orchestra swell or anything, it’s just this like lovely perfect moment of reunion and we’re all just like -

Except like, wouldn’t it be nice if they could just like sit down and talk about like, “Hey, what’s up? You look good, it’s been so long.” “I heard you married Tyrion.” “I heard you saw our brother’s head decapitated and replaced by a wolf.” But instead Arya like whips out her “I have a kill list card” right away and Sansa’s like -

and Arya’s like -

She does brighten up when she finds out Bran is home too, but Sansa’s just like -

But like, whatever, Arya still hugs it out with him and she’s like all emotional and crying while he’s staring at Sansa like -

Bran’s a little less creepy about his Raven Symone abilities with Arya, because he’s like, “You should have this dagger Littlefinger randomly gave me.” And Arya’s like, “Thanks, because I actually totally do have a kill-list.” And Sansa’s just like -

DRAGONSTONE

D-Baby and Michelle are talking about Barack like -

When J-Snow pops up and is like, “I wanna show you something.”

Turns out it’s just all the dragonglass. Which comes with a new musical theme which is two notes away from Jurassic Park.

Anyway, then he wants to show her something else -

But once again, it’s not his dick. It’s a bunch of cave paintings about how the Children of the Forest and the First Men bonded together to fight the White Walkers that J-Snow may or may not have made himself like ten minutes ago.

Well, at this point D-Baby is a swamp. And she and J-Snow keep getting closer and closer until finally you think she’s gonna finally just be like -

But instead she’s like, “Bend the knee.” Again. Except I think we all know before the end of this season she’s gonna be the one bending the knee, KNOWHAMSAYIN??

But I digress. P-Dinky is back, and he’s brought bad news. So instantly D-Baby is like -

To be continued...

WINTERFELL

... Because Brienne is still training Pod three seasons later and he still fucking blows. Like truly no progress... when Arya shows up and is like -

And Brienne’s just like -

And of course Sansa’s walking by with Littlefinger like, “Peas and carrots, peas and carrots, gotta have more grain.” So she sees Arya turning it on like -

Brienne’s like -

Sansa’s like -

And Littlefinger’s just like -

DRAGONSTONE

Davos is picking up Stannis’ grammar Nazi schtick.

And also being a total flirtstress with Michelle.

SHE IS TAKEN!!!  When suddenly, Theon pops up on shore.

Theon tries to play it off like, “Oh bro it’s so good to see you.” And J-Snow can’t kill him because he saved Sansa. So now Theon is just trying to get ships to save his sister, I guess. Except D-Baby is gone.

THE ROAD FROM HIGHGARDEN

The Oregon Trail continues, and we learn once again that Dickbag’s name is Dickbag. Presumably so Bronn can say what we’re all thinking.

But the dick jokes get cut short when Bronn hears something in the distance.

Indeed, there’s belting from afar that sounds like a mixture of Xena Warrior Princess and a Pink Floyd album. It’s the fucking Dothraki. And they’re all like -

And Jaime’s just like -

And the Lannisters are like trying to be chill and Jaime’s all -

But then. A massive roar from above. And from down on high - in one of the most chill-inducing moments in Thrones history - comes D-Baby looking like a fucking queen. And before Jaime can even be like -

D-Baby’s like, “Dracarys.”

Like boom goes the whole fucking Oregon Trail. And everyone’s on fire like -

But there’s NO TIME TO CHILL because the Dothraki come in like -

And then, it’s just crazy, just like blood, horses, belting, and D-Baby’s just FUCKING up the Oregon Trail like -

But Jaime is still going, like, “We just need arrows.” And so they try that with the dragon but of course he’s just like -

So, okay, Jaime sends Bronn to go get the big crossbow Dr. Frankenstein made, but then Jaime totally almost gets killed by this Dothraki dude and we’re all like -

But it’s okay, because Dickbag saves him! And Jaime’s like, “Thanks, Dickbag.”

But things don’t look so hot for Bronn who’s charging at this other Dothraki dude like -

but the Dothraki dude totally fucks his horse up like -

And then we really think it’s all over, because Bronn’s gold goes everywhere and it really seems like maybe he’ll try and get it and die doing so, but then he’s like, “Jaime -

And he bolts away from the gold, running through everyone like -

And Dothraki Dude finally corners him in what seems like a tent but GUESS WHAT? IT’S NOT A TENT it’s totally where the big crossbow thing is. And Dothraki Dude is like -

But Bronn is all -

And he’s all crossbow out, wind whipping through his hair, like trying to find the fucking dragon who has completely demolished the entirety of the Oregon Trail, as we see from P-Dinky’s point of view, because apparently he’s there watching. And the Dothraki Dude with him is like -

But I digress. Bronn is trying to hit the dragon but he misses and D-Baby’s just like -

So Bronn tries again. And let me tell you, for all the shit I gave this stupid fucking crossbow thing in this moment, I was like, “Well actually who knows where he’s gonna hit it? This might actually kill this thing!” 

And lo and behold, it hits him, and Drogon’s like -

And Bronn’s smiling. And D-Baby’s devastated. And we’re all just like, “I DON’T KNOW WHO TO ROOT FOR!” But lo. Drogon is not dead. And to prove it, he fucks up Dr. Frankenstein’s crossbow, just like -

And then D-Baby parks herself in the middle of the battlefield to perform impromptu spear removal on her baby. Jaime sees this and he’s like -

And P-Dinky is literally like -

And we’re all just like -

And he’s about to spear D-Baby. But without her even saying “Dracarys,” Drogon turns around like -

When somebody (Bronn?) dives out of nowhere and pushes Jaime out of the way, into water, where he’s just like -

BOOB COUNT: None BODY COUNT: Lots EPISODE GRADE: A

SER POUNCE’S STRAY THOUGHTS

The Gold Company is brought up in the scene between the Iron Bank dude and Cersei. I know that these guys are in the fifth book and that they have something to do with the other Targaryen boy, but somebody may have to remind me more. My initial thought here though was perhaps Daario and the Second Sons will become hired by Cersei? I thought Daario was done, but maybe not?

The History of the Dagger: Somebody was sent to kill Bran in Season 1 with said dagger, but the attempt was botched and Catelyn took the knife to King’s Landing to investigate. Littlefinger revealed that it once belonged to him, but then went to Tyrion when he won it in a bet (this has been confirmed as a lie). From then, it fell into Ned’s hands and the last we saw it was with him (presumably Littlefinger had taken it after betraying him). Although Littlefinger is right that this knife ignited the War of the Five Kings, we still don’t know who sent the assassin in the first place. In the books, around Joffrey’s wedding both Jaime and Tyrion heavily suspect Joffrey hired him because he heard that Bran knew the truth about his parentage, but this is never confirmed either way and has always seemed a bit shaky.

Member Maester Luwin? Literally the best.

Arya asks, “Which Lady Stark?” Bitch, who else?

The moment with Brienne “keeping her vow” was actually pretty cool. She really barely did anything.

I don’t know if you know, but Jon saw the Night King.

Where on earth is Theon’s story going?

A very similar structure to my favorite episode, “Hardhome,” in that nobody saw that battle coming. But this really seemed to me the first battle since “Blackwater” where we were invested in both sides. There was a severe anxiety to not wanting any of the major characters to die. While it lacked the cinematic might of “Battle of the Bastards,” it was far more engaging on a character level.

Hiroshima-esque imagery cannot be good for where D-Baby is headed. I wouldn’t be surprised to see Varys and P-Dinky jump ship soon.

NEXT WEEK: Ravens, more dragons, and Varys is pissed.

Thank you for your time.