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leupagus · 2 months

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Am I writing this largely because I enjoy the idea of Sansa and Stannis constantly hissing at each other like two belligerent cats? Listen,

By the first week of the siege, Sansa was forced to admit — if only to herself —that warfare was far less exciting than she'd imagined. When she had been told of Robb's victories in the Riverlands she had always pictured him triumphant upon a fearsome destrier, sword held high as he cut down his enemies before him. Then he'd been killed and she had lived through the Battle of the Blackwater, waiting either rescue or slaughter by the very man who was now her ally. That had not been exciting, precisely, but it had not been this dull and plodding affair. A far cry from the valiant knights and noble battles she'd read when she was a girl; but she'd had precious little turn out the way she'd been taught.

She slept at the camps near the front lines, in the same soldier's tent she and Brienne and Podrick had shared for the past four months. Stannis had made all sorts of ridiculous protests about "ladies" and "danger" until she'd had to remind him, once again, that her eight thousand men gave her the freedom to dictate her own movements.

"All very well while we're waiting out here, my lady," he'd growled in response, after his requisite glare at her flawless logic, "But when battle joins, you'll be nothing more than a nuisance."

"In which case, I'll be quickly killed and you can have Rickon installed as Lord of Winterfell instead," she'd replied, "as you were hoping to do in the first place." That had shut him up, at least, and he'd gone back to scowling at Winterfell's walls.

Every night when she returned to the camp, she stopped at Stannis's tent and joined the conference with their commanders and lieutenants. It was then that she learned about the waging of war: how men were best deployed, how training was maintained even in the midst of a siege, how sickness was kept at bay so that it did not kill more soldiers than did the battles. Stannis disliked her presence there, too, but she was rapidly coming to understand that he would only be truly happy when she was out of his life for good. Possibly not even then. He did not seem a man much given to smiles.

The men did not share Stannis's view, at least; as she walked through the lines each morning and night they stood to bow to her, and press the back of her hand to their foreheads as she remembered they had done to Mother so long ago.

"They say that the old gods have brought you back to us," Lord Reed told her one day, as he accompanied her on her daily walk to the winter town. "That they were angered when the Starks were driven from Winterfell, and that they're drawing you all back here one by one. They say that Robb Stark may come back from the dead, such is the rage of the gods, and avenge all who wronged your house."

Joffrey had been diligent in recounting every detail of what had happened to Robb's body after Roose Bolton had killed him. She repressed a shudder to think of it and held more tightly to Reed's arm, grateful for the warmth of him at her side. "I hope they are not disappointed if all they get is me and Rickon."

Reed chuckled. "They're well-satisfied, my lady," he said. They walked into the winter town just as the sun broke over the mountains. "You're a sight prettier than the Young Wolf ever was, that's certain."

The winter town was where her real work was done each day. It was the custom every winter for the smallfolk of the North to leave their hides holdfasts and journey here, bringing what they could cart or carry. The winter town would eventually house nearly one in three of every soul living in the North, seeking shelter together to endure the cold.

The Boltons had not bothered to do their duty, laying in no provisions and building no new housing. Up until now it had mattered little; even as the winds had begun to blow, few smallfolk had dared to come take shelter under the banners of the flayed man. The town itself had been all but abandoned, until word of the Starks' return had begun to spread throughout the North.

Now the winter town seemed to double in size with each passing day despite the ongoing siege of the Keep. Sansa had her hands full in directing builders, organizing kitchens, allocating what resources they had to feed and shelter everyone. In this she was aided by any number of friends and allies: those servants and household members who had first escaped during Winterfell's seizure by the Ironborn, or who had endured that but had fled the Boltons' brutal takeover; the households of her lords who had come to support the siege; even Lady Umber and her formidable staff lent a hand before she returned to Last Hearth. Her most steadfast assistants were Rickon and Shireen, who at first had joined her out of boredom but were now her little lieutenants, breathlessly updating her on all events of the previous night as she joined them for breakfast each morning. She received aid also from her men in the armies, assigning their builders to fortify the town in much the same way they were fortifying the siege camp.

Her lords approved of this; Stannis, of course, did not.

"You seek another threescore soldiers?" he demanded one evening.

The siege had now dragged on near a month. Bolton's men showed signs of distress, Lord Flint reported with no small satisfaction; they would not last much longer. But this had brought a fresh concern, and Sansa had broached it during their evening conference.

"We need to build up the palisades along the eastern side of the winter town," Sansa insisted, pointing at the map spread out along the table, with the various pieces representing the various companies all arrayed neatly atop. Stannis's wooden flaming hearts were outnumbered by Sansa's wolf heads two to one, though many of hers appeared hastily-carved from whatever spare wood was at hand. She reached for a flaming heart on the far side of the Keep, well away from the siege. "It need only be for—"

"Give me that," Stannis snapped, snatching it back. "Those men are covering the huntsman's gate, should any of Bolton's forces be cowardly enough to attempt escape rather than stand and fight."

"And you anticipate that happening in the next day?" she demanded, resisting the urge to lunge for the piece the way she used to with Robb when he had teasingly stolen her embroidery, holding it just out of reach. "There must be fifty or sixty men out of twelve thousand that can be spared."

"Why are the palisades in need of building up in the first place?" Stannis demanded, as Lord Glover opened and then shut his mouth to reply to her. "This winter town of yours is folly — you cannot grant entry to every farmer and tinker who pleads for shelter."

Sansa gaped at him in outrage, though even as she did so she was heartened to hear the murmur of her lords at such a comment. "That is precisely what is done, and has been for every winter since before Bran the Builder set stones to build Winterfell!" She glared at him. "This is a refuge, Your Grace."

"This is a siege, my lady," he retorted, looming over her. She thought longingly of the beautiful heeled shoes Margaery wore; she needed only a few inches to match Stannis's height, and see what good his looming did him then. "The smallfolk congregate here at their own risk!"

"My people congregate here because they believe I will keep them safe, and I will do so. With or without Your Grace's help!"

"Without, if it pleases my lady!"

Half-ready to club him over the head with the nearest chair, Sansa grabbed the flaming heart out of his hands and waved it in his face. "What are these men supposed to do, if Bolton and his soldiers escape out this way?"

Stannis looked too near a fit of apoplexy to reply, so it was Lord Cerwyn who cleared his throat and answered, "They are charged to report back, my lady, with some following at a safe distance to see where they go."

"It's perfectly obvious where they'll go," Sansa snapped. "Lord Bolton will make for the Dreadfort."

"Of course he will," said Stannis, finding his voice at last, though he did not try for the wolf's-head piece again. "That doesn't mean—"

"I know three dozen local boys who could hide along the route from the huntsman's gate to the eastern road and bring back reports, without clomping about the forests in full armor," Sansa said, slamming the piece down at the winter town. "And they might be able to bring back some food, while they're at it. Unlike your soldiers, they know how to hunt in the Wolfswood without frightening off half the game."

A few days later, she had her men.

#sansa stark #stannis baratheon #in case you're wondering: yes of course Sansa rescues him from the TITCHY LITTLE SNOWSTORM he gets stuck in #because this great and fearsome battle-tested soldier and commander apparently had no idea that snow happened in the North?#and yes Brienne has a lot of thoughts and feelings about this which will be gotten into #but in the meantime: slapfights between two people one of whom never had sisters the other of whom had TOO MANY BROTHERS #including Arya who was the most brother of all possible sisters #I'm just saying: Stannis is getting bullied and he deserves it #game of thrones motherfuckers #got: bitches get stuff done #ficcage of interest

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vivacissimx · 2 months

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Theon's choice not to visit Alannys was not a choice

Cannot believe it took this long for me to get around to this meta—also, feel free to read my whole spiel about Theon's father figures in Ned, Balon, and Roose here, because it does inform my view.

OK, Alannys Harlaw hours.

The conception of Theon's motivations in the situation where he does not go to see his mother when he returns to the Islands is a bit harsh on Theon. It ignores that Theon has not been avoiding Alannys all these years: he has been kept from her. Theon's access to her has always been controlled by the NedBalons in his life.

I want to get into the idea that this is not happenstance. That Theon's father figures control his access to his mother, which is not even a novel concept in ASOIAF. Jon Snow, who is Theon's foil, also has access to his mother restricted by—woah! Ned Stark as well!! (And both Jon and Theon are expected to be grateful for this too.)

Theon's homecoming to Pyke does not result in him rushing triumphant as the prodigal son into his loving mother's arms because in fact Alannys is not even on Pyke (though Theon thought she would be). Nope, it's Theon's suspicious, resentful, and yes "homophobic" uncle as well as father who Theon meets. From here it is just assumed that Theon has perfect access to Alannys, and that him not hopskipping over to Harlaw is purely his preference. (Are you catching on to the idea that I disagree with this, yet?)

Getting into Theon as a character & how he acts under suspicious/mistrustful eyes:

As a boy, he had lived in fear of Stark's stern face and great dark sword. His wife was, if anything, even more distant and suspicious. [ACOK, Theon I]

“What I am about to tell you must not leave this room,” she told them. “I want your oaths on that. If even part of what I suspect is true, Ned and my girls have ridden into deadly danger, and a word in the wrong ears could mean their lives.” “Lord Eddard is a second father to me,” said Theon Greyjoy. “I do so swear.” [AGOT, Catelyn III]

Ned turned back to his wife. “Once you are home, send word to Helman Tallhart and Galbart Glover under my seal. They are to raise a hundred bowmen each and fortify Moat Cailin. Two hundred determined archers can hold the Neck against an army. Instruct Lord Manderly that he is to strengthen and repair all his defenses at WhiteHarbor, and see that they are well manned. And from this day on, I want a careful watch kept over Theon Greyjoy. If there is war, we shall have sore need of his father’s fleet.” [AGOT, Eddard IV]

Theon knows he is not trusted in Winterfell. Catelyn including Theon in this circle of ooh secrets is mostly due to the fact that Robb physically brought him & also because she knows that Theon does not really even have the ability to betray her on this front. He definitely knows that. Ned does not have a paternal relationship with Theon & does not perceive himself as Theon's father any more than Theon believes he is Ned's son (in the manner that Robb or Bran or even Jon is), so why does Theon lie here?

HE IS OVERPERFORMING HIS COMMITMENT TO THE PATRIARCH FIGURE IN WHOSE HANDS HIS LIFE/FUTURE LIES.

Theon predicates his vow to Catelyn with an affirmation of his willingness to do service to Ned, and in fact that's what his access to her relies on. That's probably why he makes such a production of incessantly flirting with her too; because of how it implies he is in Ned and later Robb's good graces! Of course AGOT Theon is also just a flirt for the purposes of producing his masculinity in general. But does anyone really disagree? Moving on.

The door was grey wood studded with iron, and Theon found it barred from the inside. He hammered on it with a fist, and cursed when a splinter snagged the fabric of his glove. The wood was damp and moldy, the iron studs rusted. After a moment the door was opened from within by a guard in a black iron breastplate and pothelm. "You are the son?" "Out of my way, or you'll learn who I am." [ACOK, Theon I]

(Even the damn door is in on it LOL)

Theon knelt. He had a purpose here, and might need Aeron's help to achieve it. A crown was worth a little mud and horseshit on his breeches, he supposed.

He was playing the part of a dutiful young prince for the moment, while he waited for Lord Balon to reveal the fullness of his plans. [ACOK, Theon II]

"My father gave me the command here, Uncle." "And sent me to counsel you." And to watch me. Theon dare not push matters too far with his uncle. The command was his, yes, but his men had a faith in the Drowned God that they did not have in him, and they were terrified of Aeron Damphair. [ACOK, Theon III]

THEON IS PERFORMING FOR BALON. His father doesn't approve of him and Theon is playing the part. He is making every overture and concession to obedience, or piety, that is asked of him. Balon, Aeron, Asha, even Victarion make sure he knows when he's failing—whether it's with an express disapproval or just a knowing laugh. Theon notes all of this because due to how he was raised he's extremely perceptive of how those with power over him regard him.

And Balon does not criticize Theon for not visiting Alannys.

"Will I find my sister and my lady mother at Pyke?" "You will not. [ACOK, Theon I]

Harlaw is only a day’s sail, and surely Lady Greyjoy yearns for a last sight of her son.” “Would that I could. I am kept too busy here. My father relies on me, now that I am returned. Come peace, perhaps...” [ACOK, Theon II]

Theon visiting his mother is not reliant on his own self-motivation, but on whether or not Balon grants him access to her. This is not to say Balon expressly forbade it or that there would have been any direct consequences if Theon had gone over... but it's about goodwill, not permission! What else changes between Theon asking about Alannys when he returns to Pyke and when he explicitly tells Asha that he can't go see her because Balon, because war? Simple: he needs to prove himself to his father as loyal and strong first. To make it explicit, Ned & Robb allowed Theon access to Catelyn in the same manner that Balon refuses (or, at the least, disapproves of) Theon's access to Alannys. Theon is sensitive to this disapproval and does not push the matter.

The only person who pushes Theon to go to Alannys is Asha. Asha obviously has Balon's trust, though, and it could be said she takes it for granted. Asha's level of understanding of Theon is complex; she recognizes him but she doesn't know him. When she says this:

You are blood of my blood, Theon, whatever else you may be. For the sake of the mother who bore us both, return to Deepwood Motte with me. [ACOK, Theon V]

it's actually wild how much is packed in here. For the sake of the mother who bore us both: Theon doesn't yet have the right to Alannys or even know how she'd receive him, given his other receptions on Pyke. Return to Deepwood Motte: the castle Theon believes he should have been tasked with taking above Asha, a concrete proof of his father's mistrust in him, which amongst other reasons spurs on his taking on Winterfell to begin with.

Personally I think Theon as a symbol of Balon's failed rebellion does make him, in Balon's eyes, also a symbol of his failed marriage. Theon does not confirm Baelon's masculinity as a son should, as Asha does. He is a reminder of the ways in which Balon lacks.

I also believe that Theon ~misses his mother, FWIW. He thinks back to his childhood sleeping in the Sea Tower while on his way to Pyke which is a mommy-coded memory; he expects to sleep in his old chambers again when he returns to Pyke—both that and his expectation of seeing Alannys are swiftly disabused. He will not be slipping into his old roles, Theon learns through the reunion with Balon which is violent in more ways than one. It's interesting because Theon actually expects to have to prove himself to his father (which is why he comes armed with a plan for taking Casterly Rock) but he doesn't expect to be punished for having been held hostage all these years.

If we are indulging in symbolism, though:

Above the Sea Tower snapped his father's banner. The Myraham was too far off for Theon to see more than the cloth itself, but he knew the device it bore: the golden kraken of House Greyjoy, arms writhing and reaching against a black field. The banner streamed from an iron mast, shivering and twisting as the wind gusted, like a bird struggling to take flight. And here at least the direwolf of Stark did not fly above, casting its shadow down upon the Greyjoy kraken. [ACOK, Theon I]

The Sea Tower where Theon's childhood memories & hopes for return to his family lie is dominated by his father's banner. At least it's Balon Greyjoy and not Ned Stark, Theon tells himself. Yet the result is the paralleled, mirrored, as Balon and Ned often are with Theon: under Ned's control Theon can't see Alannys because he is Balon Greyjoy's son, while under Balon's control Theon is discouraged from seeing Alannys because he isn't son enough. Perhaps Theon does prioritize the goodwill of his patriarch because he views it as an essential ingredient to his survival and success... but he's also absolutely aware of the role the wife/mother/lady/queen plays in the whole arena too. As power, as leverage. It's pretty plain when you consider that he tells Barbrey she could claim leadership over the North if she so desired. He took such pleasure in being relatively intimate with Catelyn as well.

So, he knows. Yet they're still all held above his head like a little treat. Delicious.

#theon greyjoy #alannys harlaw #ned stark #balon greyjoy #asha greyjoy #aeron greyjoy #text #meta #asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #gender in asoiaf

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georgescitadel · 9 months

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When Jaime and Roose are having dinner at Harrenhal and talking with each other, it’s a key chapter in Roose's decision. At that point, I don't think Roose is completely committed yet. He's trying to decide which side he's gonna come down on, and he's been presented with Jaime, whose hand has been cut off by men who are ostensibly fighting for him, so he's concerned - “Am I gonna be held responsible for maiming Lord Tywin's favorite son? A Lannister always pays his debts!”. Roose is really feeling out Jaime in that scene, there's a lot of careful dialogue in that sequence. There's two men, neither one really saying what they're saying.

- George R.R. Martin, Game Of Thrones DVD

#Jaime Lannister #Roose Bolton #George R.R. Martin #ValyrianScrolls #Game Of Thrones #ASOIAF

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gendrie · 3 months

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And no one had raised a voice or drawn a blade or anything, not Harwin who always talked so bold, or Alyn who was going to be a knight, or Jory who was captain of the guard. Not even her father. (Arya, AGOT)

a notable aspect to arya's arc is her having to confront that the northerners, both stark men and their bannermen, are flawed and, frequently, of dubious loyalty. this issue is introduced very early on, in her second chapter, and it leaves arya reeling. she had an idealized perspective of these men, in particular, those who serve her father and eddard himself. arya is close with the stark household and admires her father. so arya is deeply disappointed when none of them prevent the injustices on the trident.

She might have been able to trick a Frey or one of the Brave Companions, but the Dreadfort men had served Roose Bolton their whole life, and they knew him better than she did. If I tell him I am Arya Stark and command him to stand aside . . . No, she dare not. He was a northman, but not a Winterfell man. He belonged to Roose Bolton. (Arya, ACOK)

in harrenhal she learns the (horrific) extent to which northern men will inflict harm themselves when the boltons take over the castle. they kill, rape and terrorize those within and arya is forced to watch it all. roose is one of robb's bannermen, but he is not worthy of trust nor are those who serve him and arya realizes this as she escapes the castle.

The look she gave him was full of hurt. "I thought you were my father's man." "Lord Eddard's dead, milady. I belong to the lightning lord now, and to my brothers." [...] He gave her a searching look. "Can you understand what I am telling you?" "Yes." That he was not Robb's man, she understood well enough. And that she was his captive. (Arya, ASOS)

and even men who formerly served at winterfell can find new leadership. harwin is someone arya knew since she was a little baby, but he is no longer a man of winterfell. arya is, understandably, resentful of being taken captive, but her dynamic with the brotherhood is layered. they do treat her well and want to do right by her despite their plan to ransom her. arya also accepts that they need resources to fund their mission. harwin shows that he still care for the starks by pleading with beric to revive catelyn.

She looked at their filthy hair and scraggly beards and reddened eyes, at their dry, cracked, bleeding lips. Wolves, she thought again. Like me. Was this her pack? How could they be Robb's men? She wanted to hit them. She wanted to hurt them. She wanted to cry. They all seemed to be looking at her, the living and the dead alike. The old man had squeezed three fingers out between the bars. "Water," he said, "water." (Arya, ASOS)

again, arya is forced to witness the crimes the northerners (and their allies) committed in the riverlands. the karstark men are being tortured to death for their crimes when arya rides thru the stoney sept. she does not look away, but instead she shows them mercy. arya gives each man one last drink of water before they are executed. this is something i feel embodies her responsibility as a stark: to show mercy but to see that justice is met

these are significant experiences for arya. its an extension of ned's advice to "know the men who follow you". arya needs to know the limitations, failings, loyalties and crimes of those who claim to serve house stark. whoever is going to lead the north cannot be ignorant of those nuances. this is the stuff of northern leadership.

#asoiaf nonsense #broken record post lol #but honestly?#if arya was a male character these experiences would NOT be taken for granted #she's overlooked for a position thats given to an offpage toddler and a character who's yet to interact with any northmen #make it make sense

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jackoshadows · 5 months

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In the books:

White Harbor

“Was ever snow so black?” asked Lord Wyman. “Ramsay took Lord Hornwood’s lands by forcibly wedding his widow, then locked her in a tower and forgot her. It is said she ate her own fingers in her extremity…and the Lannister notion of king’s justice is to reward her killer with Ned Stark’s little girl.” - Davos, ADwD

Winterfell:

"The bride weeps," Lady Dustin said, as they made their way down, step by careful step. "Our little Lady Arya." ... What do you think passes through their heads when they hear the new bride weeping? Valiant Ned's precious little girl." ... "Lady Arya's sobs do us more harm than all of Lord Stannis's swords and spears. - The Turncloak, ADwD

The Boltons about the Northmen marching with Stannis:

“Even ruined and broken, Winterfell remains Lady Arya’s home. What better place to wed her, bed her, and stake your claim? Let Stannis march on us. He is too cautious to come to Barrowton…but he must come to Winterfell. His clansmen will not abandon the daughter of their precious Ned to such as you. - - Reek, ADwD

The northmen marching with Stannis:

"Winter is almost upon us, boy. And winter is death. I would sooner my men die fighting for the Ned’s little girl than alone and hungry in the snow, weeping tears that freeze upon their cheeks. No one sings songs of men who die like that. As for me, I am old. This will be my last winter. Let me bathe in Bolton blood before I die. I want to feel it spatter across my face when my axe bites deep into a Bolton skull. I want to lick it off my lips and die with the taste of it on my tongue." - The King's Prize, ADwD

Stannis to Lord Commander Jon Snow:

… more northmen coming in as word spreads of our victory. Fisherfolk, freeriders, hillmen, crofters from the deep of the wolfswood and villagers who fled their homes along the stony shore to escape the ironmen, survivors from the battle outside the gates of Winterfell, men once sworn to the Hornwoods, the Cerwyns, and the Tallharts. We are five thousand strong as I write, our numbers swelling every day. And word has come to us that Roose Bolton moves toward Winterfell with all his power, there to wed his bastard to your half sister. He must not be allowed to restore the castle to its former strength. We march against him. Arnolf Karstark and Mors Umber will join us. I will save your sister if I can, and find a better match for her than Ramsay Snow. You and your brothers must hold the Wall until I can return. - Jon, ADwD

Lord Commander Jon Snow on the Wall:

"He's to marry Arya Stark. My little sister." Jon could almost see her in that moment, long-faced and gawky, all knobby knees and sharp elbows, with her dirty face and tangled hair. They would wash the one and comb the other, he did not doubt, but he could not imagine Arya in a wedding gown, nor Ramsay Bolton's bed. No matter how afraid she is, she will not show it. If he tries to lay a hand on her, she'll fight him. "Your sister," Iron Emmett said, "how old is …" By now she'd be eleven, Jon thought. Still a child. "I have no sister. Only brothers. Only you." Lady Catelyn would have rejoiced to hear those words, he knew. That did not make them easier to say. His fingers closed around the parchment. Would that they could crush Ramsay Bolton's throat as easily. - Jon, ADwD

You know nothing, Jon Snow. He thought of Arya, her hair as tangled as a bird's nest. I made him a warm cloak from the skins of the six whores who came with him to Winterfell … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … I want my bride back … "I think we had best change the plan," Jon Snow said.

The roar was all he could have hoped for, the tumult so loud that the two old shields tumbled from the walls. Soren Shieldbreaker was on his feet, the Wanderer as well. Toregg the Tall, Brogg, Harle the Huntsman and Harle the Handsome both, Ygon Oldfather, Blind Doss, even the Great Walrus. I have my swords, thought Jon Snow, and we are coming for you, Bastard. - Jon, ADwD

Stannis sending Arya to Jon Snow for a debt owed

"Oh, and take the Stark girl with you. Deliver her to Lord Commander Snow on your way to Eastwatch." Stannis tapped the parchment that lay before him. "A true king pays his debts." Pay it, aye, thought Theon. Pay it with false coin. Jon Snow would see through the imposter at once. Lord Stark's sullen bastard had known Jeyne Poole, and he had always been fond of his little half-sister Arya. - Theon, TWoW

Even the traitors Karstark pretending like the others:

Lord Arnolf shoved himself up, a vulture rising from its prey. One spotted hand clutched at his son’s shoulder for support. “We’ll take (Winterfell) for the Ned and for his daughter.” - The Sacrifice, ADwD

Us reading A Dance for Dragons: The North is marching for Lady Arya Stark of Winterfell, daughter of Ned Stark. Arya Stark is a pivotal character, a Key to the North around whom the North plot revolves. Various Northern factions are uniting behind her, the Lord Commander broke several oaths of neutrality and died trying to save her, two kings tried to save her.

Sansa stans/Jonsa shippers:

They hate it so much that the North plot revolves around Arya that the only thing they can do again and again is gaslight the fandom with this false equivalence that talking about Arya's importance to the North is making light of Jeyne's rape and abuse.

Also, Ramsay marries Arya Stark to give legitimacy to his stake over the North as Lord of Winterfell. Which is why Manderly wants Rickon because his claim supersedes Arya's. These morons pretending that discussing this plot is an insult to Arya while they hand over all of Arya's book themes, characterization and relationships to their fave is hilarious.

Like every other day there is a post of how Sansa is the MOST IMPORTANT because EVERYONE WANTS TO MARRY HER and she is the ONLY KEY TO THE NORTH - because the Lannisters, Tyrells and LF are all plotting to marry her off etc. The whole Jonsa shite is about Sansa deigning to make the poor bastard Jon legitimate by marrying him etc. Their world revolves around Sansa's marriage. But apparently discussing how Arya's marriage to Ramsay to hold the North is driving the Northern plot is insulting to Arya's character 🤣

When even the author has given all these interviews pointing out that replacing Jeyne with Sansa on the TV show changed the entire story because 'Fake Arya' is essential to what is happening in the North, these stans can only regurgitate this tired old nonsense and attack book readers for discussing what is actually in the books instead of making up headcanons on how their unqualified fave is the only candidate to be QITN

#anti Sansa stans #Why even tag this on the Arya Stark tag?

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ilynpilled · 11 months

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The thing about the hand loss and how people attach things behind it like “it was as a result of Jaime’s arrogance,” or “he lost it because he saved Brienne from rape,” is that neither is true to what actually happens in the text. Those actions still hold meaning, sure, but the chop itself is also independent to it all (the maiming is symbolically karmic in a lot of ways as it is tied to his greatest sins, but that is not what i am talking about). The capture itself is different, but the right hand and his fate was doomed the moment he landed in Hoat’s hands for reasons out of his control. What is so good about it is that the hand chop is not really about Jaime as a human being (which makes it causing one of the biggest existential crises in the series all the more interesting), and more about Jaime as a token. Ironically, his status and relationship to his father is what ends up dehumanizing him entirely. There are so many things going on outside of Jaime. He is an integral political piece, every side is scrambling for him for different reasons, and he is fully treated as such in the Riverlands.

Hoat had his own motivation, that is much bigger than Jaime, due to his previous betrayal of Tywin, which turned into a death sentence following the results of Blackwater. As Roose implies throughout the dinner conversation, Jaime’s hand chop was, above all else, the result of Tywin and the ruthless foundation of much of his authority (the Reynes and Tarbecks are brought up again). And what I like about it, other than the emphasis on the players constantly making moves solely for their own benefit in war while everyone else suffers the consequences, is that it does address and criticize the Lannister method a whole lot. The hand chop almost feels less karmic for Jaime himself than it does for Tywin. It is another reason that I find the perspective that these books were heralding this kind of sociopathic ruthlessness as competent and uber effective while completely condemning the relatively more “moral” Starks so funny. Like without even getting into where we are headed in the aftermath of the WoT5K, the holes within the “Tywin method” are already being explored. And the results are creeping towards Tywin himself, invading his family, because it is his very heir that suffers directly from it. The more we move along in the story the more the distance lessens between him and his putrid actions to cement his authority and power. “I’ve lost a hand, a father, a son, a sister, and a lover, and soon enough I will lose a brother. And yet they keep telling me House Lannister won this war.” is a Tywin/House Lannister thesis when it comes to the events of ASoS. For a start, he is the one who brought in the Bloody Mummers. The cruelty he unleashes on the smallfolk ends up coming back to him directly through his heir being the one experiencing it full force. There is the layer of loyalty vs utilizing sellswords, which is one way the conflicting sides in the war foil each other, and it is a root cause of the betrayal to begin with. If you use these men, you can end up suffering the consequences yourself, loyalty can only be bought if you remain the highest bidder. Relying on greed is fragile. Then, the part that Jaime is repeatedly faced with throughout his narrative: fear ≠ trust.

Hoat is smart enough to realize by now that his betrayal will not be pardoned by Tywin. Jaime’s offer means nothing in terms of his safety. He is aware of his low status and the meaning of his action to Tywin. That is what truly dooms Jaime and his hand. Hoat needed that token, and he needed to secure a path for himself (without losing his token along the way to Roose) to the Karstarks. He made sure that he brought Roose down with him, and put him in a difficult situation. Sure, Jaime’s skill itself is a huge threat and liability, but that is not the primary motivator. It is his sole ticket to safety from Tywin’s ruthlessness.

Then the goat gets outsmarted by Roose, and Jaime catches on to that part, so Hoat does take the L ultimately I fear, but these layers remain and it adds a lot. I also like how in ASoS, Jaime’s status is constantly fluctuating between dooming him and saving him. It often depends on how clever he is being in the moment.

#i do not do this type of analysis that much but i do like that dinner convo a whole lot #and it does certainly get overshadowed by the fact that it happens after the bath confession #valyrianscrolls #jaime lannister #roose bolton #tywin lannister #and then j becomes another ticket for roose instead 😭#honestly being tywin’s heir and what it puts jaime through is incredibly funny considering the aerys hostage situation and all this #also love love how roose is playing w his words #like his sentences are layered and carefully chosen #and all so deliberate #he is still in the process of calculating

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ramsayxme · 6 months

Text

Lord Bolton

"'Let's play a game. Which body part do you need the least?"

You groan and open your eyes, quickly realizing you are strapped to a wooden X. There is a man standing in front of you. His black curly hair drooped over his forehead. His eyes are icy, and his sharp teeth curl into a grin. In his hand, he holds a flaying knife.

"Well, well, well, look who is finally awake. And right on cue! Are you going to beg me to let you go?" He coos. His eyes scan your body, which is barely covered by a thin white cloth wrapped around your curves. You blink your eyes rapidly, trying to take in your surroundings. You are hit with a pang of fear, radiating through your gut and throat. "Where am I?" You ask, hoarsely. Your head starts rolling around, trying to find some sort of hint to where you are.

The man steps forward and grabs your chin, tilting your head to face him. He licks his lips before grinning again. "You're in my keep. Did you think you could escape me that easily? I have taken a special interest in you." He drags the blade of his knife gently across your bare shoulder, snaking the blade underneath the white cloth hanging from your other shoulder. He grazes your collarbones and the blade disappears under the fabric, gently kissing your chest.

You grind your teeth together, trying to turn away from his grasp. You are able to dart your eyes around the room and remember your surroundings. You were being held captive by the Boltons at the Dreadfort. You use context clues to determine that this must be Roose Bolton's bastard son, Ramsay. His eyes pierce into your soul as you bring your gaze back to him. "Leave me be. Let me go, Ramsay." You beg.

He shakes his head, his curls flop with his disappointed frown. He leans in close to you, his breath licking your cheek. "You are in no position to be making demands. The questions here are going to be asked by me, and the answers are going to be given by you. Now-" He takes a step back, holds his hands in front of him, and grins. He isn't far from you, but he has let go of your face. "Where were you going? You are mine, you know. I didn't say you could escape."

You spit. Your saliva hits him on the cheek, and he doesn't flinch as it slides down his face. He continues to grin, his eyes staring deep into you. "I'm not yours. I belong to no one." You hiss. His grin dies into a firm, gritted teeth scowl. His jaw muscles tense up as he uses the back of his hand to wipe your spit from his cheek. He steps forward and grabs your chin so hard that you yelp.

"Wrong answer." Escapes his clenched jaw. "Let's give that another try, shall we?" His grin appears again as he resumes his position, hands clasped in front of him. "Where. Were. You. Going?" He speaks to you as if you were a child, a slight coo in his voice.

His eyes dart back and forth from each of yours, his teeth grinding. His gaze is enough to force you to answer. "I don't know. I was running away. I don't want to be a prisoner." His eyes widen at your honesty. He cracks his knuckles before taking the step forward once again. His hand caresses your cheek, wiping away one of your tears.

"Well, you are a prisoner. I am your captor. A pretty thing like you belongs under the protection of a lord..." His eyes wander down your body, and you feel his gaze tracing down your midsection like fire. He leans in, and his fingertips make their way to your neck. He doesn't quite choke you, but his fingers dance around on your neckline. His lips are inches from your face as he whispers, "You're safe with me. Nobody will hurt you...except me of course!" His face rips into that sadistic grin, his eyes wide.

You turn your head, not wanting to look at his face. "I'd like to tie you up here instead, Ramsay." He is taken aback once again by your blunt statement. He chuckles as he examines you. "You're a brave girl. I know your type, you wildling whore. Except, you forgot one thing." He stepped even closer to you, his chest pressing against your body. His hand once again grabs your chin, and he forces you to meet his eyes. "I have the power here." He whispers. "You were captured and now, you are mine. The sooner you accept it, the sooner the pleasure begins. And you are to call me Lord Bolton" Without missing a beat, his lips crash into yours. His hand quickly makes its way to the nape of your neck where he grabs a fistful of your hair. Your head is now under his control, to swivel on his demand. He pulls your head to the side, giving him full access to your neck.

He begins kissing your neck, your exposed skin is so soft and gentle that he groans while sucking on it. He pulls your hair once again, making your head swivel back to face him. He begins kissing you passionately, pressing his chest into your body. You give in and begin kissing him back. His tongue slides into your mouth, and you can feel your body reacting to his passion. Your mind knows he is evil, but your body is enjoying his control.

You hate this feeling. The next moment, you bite down on his lower lip hard enough to draw blood. He pulls away from you, eyes wild. He spits the blood out onto the floor of the keep and looks back at you. "You're a feisty whore. Did you enjoy that kiss? I know you did."

He leans forward to kiss you again, but before his lips can meet yours, you scream. "Get off of me!" You begin thrashing around, lurching your body forward, trying to loosen the grip his chains have on you. Although you are being constrained on the wooden X, you do make quite the clatter from your struggle.

Ramsay laughs and pushes your back into the wood with both of his hands on your hips. Your lower back aching as it is slammed into the wood. "Terrible attempt! I am going to enjoy every moment of this." He forces another kiss on your lips. His mouth tastes like blood. Before you can turn away, his hand finds your neck. He wraps his hand around your throat and keeps your head steady. "You are going to learn to enjoy this." He groans into your mouth.

"If you want me to enjoy this, take me down from here. I can't stay up here." You had intended for it to come out as a demand, but it came out more like a whine since his hand was around your throat so tightly. He stops kissing you and leans back just enough to be able to look at you. His eyes are wide, full of wild energy.

"Are you trying to manipulate me? Pretty girl, you should know that your word doesn't matter in here. You do not give orders in my keep." He exhales a sigh as his free hand makes its way up your leg, traveling towards your inner thigh. His hand disappears under the fabric. You stare at him, trying to disguise your anger. Maybe if you play into his game, he will let you down. Your body was aching to be let loose. Plus... maybe if you were not in such an uncomfortable position, maybe you COULD enjoy what he was going to do to you. You knew it was going to happen regardless.

His hand reaches your inner thigh, just inches away from your sensitive parts. You feel yourself twitching for a touch, aching for his hand to find its way... What were you thinking?! This man was evil. You tried to control your thoughts. Ramsay is still so close to her face, his breathing is controlled and calm.

You stretch forward and initiate a kiss. Your lips slam into his. Ramsay inhales sharply through his nose. You are proud of yourself for catching him off guard. His breathing turns heavy as you kiss him. His hand starts inching up your thigh, so close to your crotch. You can tell that you are dripping wet from the warmth that is radiating from your pussy. You continue kissing him, releasing little moans into his mouth. Ramsay breaks off the kiss and whispers. "Perhaps I should give you a little taste of what will happen if I take you off of this X."

You nod slowly, not quite sure of what he means. He drops to his knees, and you inhale sharply. Oh. Gods. He looks up at you as he slowly leans forward, his mouth about to meet your folds. He is breathing slowly and carefully, you can feel his breath licking your inner thighs. You lean your head back and prepare yourself to feel his tongue on you.

You hear Ramsay shuffling in his cloak, and you open your eyes to see him standing in front of you. Your brow furrows as you realize you are not about to be licked like you had prepared for. "Disappointed?" He teases. "Please Ramsay-"

You didn't mean to answer him, but the pleading just escaped your mouth on its own. His eyes widened. "Ah." He grinned. "Looks like you're starting to enjoy my game. Call me Lord Bolton and I will keep playing." You shake your head. You don't want to recognize him as your Lord. He chuckles, enjoying their interaction. "Alright then." He spins on his heels and you realize he is about to leave the keep. Your eyes widen, realizing that your body is aching for him. You want him to stay. You want him to continue. "Wait!"

Your shout was louder than you expected, echoing in the cold room. Ramsay stops in his tracks. "Yes?" He coos, not even turning around. You know he is grinning without having to see his face. Your mind raced as you thought of what to say, how to keep him interested.

"Don't you want a real challenge?" You begin. "You only won because I am tied up here. Don't you want a real reward? It's no reward when I am like this...It makes it easy on you. Let me down and I can show you what a real challenge can feel like... A real reward for you."

Ramsay doesn't answer right away, and he just stands there for what feels like minutes. He slowly turns around and gives your body a scan from bottom to top. "Hmm." He cocks his head to the side. You feel your body tensing, begging for his touch to come back. "I like your attitude, girl." He begins stepping towards you. You feel relief as you realize that your plan worked. He starts to untie you.

Suddenly, you fall to the ground. You let out a scream as your body adjusts to being free again. Your knees ache from hitting the keep's floor, but you are thankful to have the ability to move around. You look up at Ramsay as he stands over you. He chuckles as he grabs your wrists and yanks you to your feet. You feel like you can't walk, your legs are weak from the X and...also from the begging feeling between them.

You stumble into Ramsay as you stand. His strong arms wrap around you. You look at him, his face gentle as soft, which is different. You decide to make your move. You run your fingers through his curly hair and give him a slight tug when you reach the nape of his neck. You hold the sides of his face and kiss him with passion. Ramsay kisses you back, his hands pulling at the fabric that is covering you.

"That's it. Take what you want." He kisses you harder, his mouth rough and demanding. His teeth nibble into your lower lip. He shoves his tongue deep into your mouth. You take a risk, one of your hands snakes around his chest and wraps around his throat. You gently choke Ramsay. He groans into your kisses, and his hands grip your hips. "You're feisty. I like that. I will have to teach you a lesson, you wildling whore."

You pull back from the kiss and smack him hard across the face. You're even stunned by this, but Ramsay's eyes are wild with pleasure. "Do not call me a whore. I am not A whore. I am YOUR whore." You try to recover why you just smacked him. His cheek was red, and he was grinning. "Do it again." He demands.

You smack him hard on the other cheek, his cheeks both stinging red. You've unlocked something in him, you can feel his erection as he pushes his body closer to yours again. "That felt good." He groaned between his teeth. "I want you to try to hurt me." He pushes his face into yours for a kiss. You bite his bottom lip immediately and twist it in your teeth. "Ah!" He yells.

"Now we're talking." He chuckles as blood drips down his chin. He groans in arousal as you start biting his neck. "You're good at this." He pulls your face to meet his and starts kissing you. You decide to continue playing his game. "I want to hurt you. I want to please you. Is there a difference?" You wrap both of your hands firmly around Ramsay's neck. His eyes widen as you squeeze.

You can sense the fierce desire in his eyes as he bites his own lip. He hisses from the pain of biting his own wounded lip, "There is no difference at all. I want you to surrender to your every dark desire with me." You take a step back from Ramsay. You look him up and down. His erection is pressing against his trousers, and you notice his breathing is heavy. "Take off your shirt." You demand.

Ramsay raises an eyebrow and does as he is asked. "If you want to play this game, I am ready." He pulls his shirt over his head and throws it on the floor. His pale, muscular body heaves with his breaths as he stares at you. His stare reminds you of the way a predator looks at their prey.

You step forward, running your fingers down his chest. You start to untie his trousers. "You want me to hurt you, My Lord? I will hurt you." He stares down at your hands undoing his laced pants, his cock pressing against the laces. "I like where this is headed." Ramsay groans. He looked back up at you with fierce eyes. He pushes you into the corner of the keep. There is a corner hidden away with pelts on the floor. He pushes you down, on your knees. He quickly finishes undoing his trousers and letting them drop to the floor with a clang. His knives fall to the floor with them.

His naked body now stands looming over you, his cock hard and begging to be touched. You reach your hand forward to wrap it around his throbbing cock, but he stops you with his hand grabbing your wrist. "Ah, ah, ah." He shakes his head. "Not so fast. I don't want you using your hands. Do you think you can please me with just your mouth?" He asks.

You feel a surge of adrenaline shoot through your body, eager to prove your worth. You finally push the fabric off your body, allowing it to pool at your knees, releasing your bare chest. You lean in forward, mouth open, ready to take in his cock. Your face is stopped by his hand grabbing your jaw. You peer up towards him, his face angry. "I asked you a question." He snarled. "Will you be able to please me with just your mouth? Or will I have to find someone better?"

You nodded, your mouth watering. You've never wanted to please someone so badly. You craved his cock in your throat. His grip on your jaw tightened. "Be a good talker for me. Answer me with words." You realized that a simple nod wouldn't be good enough. "Yes. Yes, My Lord. Let me please you." You whined. The desperation in your voice made Ramsay's cock twitch.

He let go of your jaw and put his hands behind his back. "Well then, let's see you try." He smiled and gently pushed his hips forward, bringing his hard cock to your lips. You eagerly began kissing the head, sloppy and wet. He moaned as you began flicking your tongue on the tip during the kisses. "Show me what a good girl you can be for me."

You were thrilled to be pleasing him, especially at your own pace. You began gently taking him in your mouth, slowly and passionately. You could hear him breathing heavily and grinding his teeth. You stopped to look up at him and tease him. You ran your teeth over his tip. You rubbed your puckered lips over the head of his cock, watching him look down at you. You expected him to moan and lurch his hips towards your face. Instead, his eyes turned wild and he grabbed your hair in his fists. "I'm growing impatient."

Ramsay pushes your head, shoving his whole cock into your mouth. It slides into your throat with ease, filling your mouth. You immediately gag and try to pull back, but his hands have a firm grip on your hair, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants. He lets out a loud groan as he manipulates your movements, making your head bob up and down on his entire length. Your body is rejecting such a sudden change, causing you to gag and sputter. He pulls out, his cock dripping with saliva. You gasp for air and drool all over yourself. He moves your hair out of the way and slaps his cock on your cheek.

He has a crazed expression in his eyes as he slowly lowers himself to the pelts, on his knees with you. He pulls the fabric that was once covering you into his hands. He wipes your face off, almost lovingly. "Take some deep breaths." He nods and smiles as he continues to wipe the wetness off your face, almost kindly. You feel like there is no way this is the same man that was just slamming his cock into your throat. You don't argue with him as you regain your breathing.

Ramsay puts one of his arms behind your back and slowly lowers you to lie down flat on your back. The pelts are surprisingly thick, cushioning you both from the cold floor of the keep. You feel hidden away with Ramsay, like you are in your secret world with him. The only light is from the flickering of the fire nearby. You take a moment to look at him. He is so handsome, his muscular arms are now on either side of your face, and you realize his body is between your legs. His curls fall perfectly as he looks down at you. His eyes are serious, but not looking evil at the moment. "I want to take your breath away once again, but in a different way." He whispers.

He balls up the fabric he was wiping your face with and places it underneath your hips, allowing your pussy to be just slightly raised, perfect for him to prepare to bury his face in. Your heart starts pounding as you prepare for him to finally please you. You feel like you've been waiting forever. You shut your eyes and you hear him chuckle. You can tell he is lying down on the pelts just below you, and he places his hands on your outer thighs. His curls tickle the skin on your inner thighs and you can feel his breath on your folds.

He starts kissing your inner thighs, immediately making you inhale sharply. "Gods, you are so wet and I haven't even touched you yet." He groans from between your legs. You're slightly embarrassed but can't help yourself. You can feel that you're soaked and warm. Your body has never ached for someone like this. His arms snake around your outer thighs, and his hands settle on your lower stomach, right above your crotch. He is holding you down firmly.

His tongue finally licks your pussy, gently and slowly. He starts burying his face in you. He is licking and sucking you perfectly and Gods does it feel good. His rhythm is steady as he moans into you. The vibrations from his moan cause you to tremble. His curls still tickling your inner thighs. He moves one hand away from your midsection and pulls your leg, opening your legs for him. You hadn't noticed you were already clenching your legs closed around his head. "Sorry, my lord." You groaned.

He didn't answer as he was swirling his tongue around you. You were moaning and arching your back. It's a good thing his other hand was holding you down or else you may have floated to the ceiling. The hand that was holding your leg moved to your pussy and he inserted two fingers into you. They slid in with ease, but they filled you up. Your body was aching for more. You sighed as he curled his fingers, finding your pleasure. You started grinding on his fingers as he sucked on your clit. You felt like you were on the brink of a climax already, your body had been aching for this. "Ramsay-" You moaned.

He pulled his face away from you and left you aching. He slid his fingers out and you groaned at the empty aching they left in you. He pulled the fabric out from under you and wiped his face off with it before throwing it aside. "Did you like that?" He coos as he lays next to you on the pelt. His cock is still hard and wet from your lips. You only nod and complain with whines. "Now, don't worry, I am not finished with you." He reads your mind.

He motions with his hand for you to come here. You carefully roll over, and sit on top of him. He is flat on his back and bends his knees, giving your back a bit of support. "Now that I know how badly you want me, I want you to fuck me." He says as he reaches up and caresses your breasts. "I'll allow you to take control here." He nods at you, giving you approval to start.

You start sliding your pussy over his hard cock, just gliding and teasing. It feels so good as it hits your clit and you can tell he wants you to put it inside. His hands find your hips and he squeezes your love handles. You whisper to him, "I am going to make you mine."

He softly smiles. "Happily, my lady." You reach down and guide his head into your pussy. Once it is past your lips, you know you can let go and let your body do the rest. You gently slide down onto his cock, and his jaw relaxes as he exhales "Fuck."

You let his cock fill you completely and you stay still, letting your body get used to the burning sensation from being stretched. "Kiss me," Ramsay demands, his eyes cloudy with pleasure. You lean forward and start kissing him passionately. Ramsay's tongue is in your mouth almost immediately, he is desperate for more. His hands move from your hips to your ass as he spreads you open, and starts thrusting his cock in and out of you. You bite his lip hard and pull away from the kiss. "I thought I was in charge, what are you doing?" You question him. You get a surge from being dominant over a man who is known to be in charge. He whines as he stops his thrusts. He wraps his arms around your hips and pulls you down on him. "I can't help myself."

You lock lips once again in a deep, passionate kiss. You sink your nails into his shoulder and he groans. He presses his lips against yours even more intensely. You begin the slow motions with your hips, letting his cock almost slide entirely out of you before plunging deeply back inside. Ramsay is in heaven. You feel wildly powerful.

His breathing becomes deeper as you pick up the pace, but still moving fairly slowly. You sit tall on his cock, and you reach your hands to his throat. You wrap both of your hands around his throat and push down, choking him into the pelt. His eyes shoot open and he smiles as you choke him. "Harder" He groans. You choke him harder as you start riding him even faster. You feel a wave of power come over you and you slap him across the face with one of your hands before returning it to his neck. His eyes are glazed over with pleasure. "Harder!" He barks.

You slap him again and start bouncing up and down on his cock. You are staring deep into his eyes. He wets his lips with his tongue and groans as you change the motion, now rocking back and forth on him. He digs his fingertips into your hips. "More! I am nearly there."

You are sweaty and growing tired. Your sore body can only take so much. He notices you slow and catch your breath. Ramsay chuckles and pulls you forward with his hands on your hips. "Don't you dare stop pleasing me. Please. Use your teeth while you catch your breath." He leans his head to the side, exposing his neck to you. "It feels so good." He looks at you and raises his eyebrows, wanting you to bite the skin where his neck and shoulder meet.

You lean forward and bite down on Ramsay's skin and you don't let go. You are drooling on his neck and he moans. He lifts you a bit with his arms, giving him the space so he can fuck you while you rest. He starts pumping in and out of you, but he can't thrust his full length from this position. You release your bite and start to roll, he follows and switches so he is on top of you. "Oh, you look so pretty like this." He coos as he watches your cheeks flush.

He uses his hands to hold himself up and he starts fucking you. It feels amazing. His cock fills you up perfectly, and you submit underneath him. He pumps hard and fast, but his eye contact does not break. "I could fuck you all day." He groans. You can feel your body approaching a climax.

"You're getting closer." He points it out. He can read your pleasure on your face. He keeps the pace and lowers his face, burying himself in your neck. He starts kissing your ear and you can hear his breath catch in his throat. "I want you to cum for me...but not yet" He whispers, his lips grazing over your ear. You feel the knot begin to tighten in your body. You are aching to release your orgasm. "Ramsay, please..." You begin to beg until he stops fucking you. His cock deep inside you, you cry out from the sudden lack of friction.

"Lord Bolton." He whispers. "Call me Lord Bolton and I will continue fucking you." You cry out, desperate for more. You start moving your hips underneath him in an attempt to keep the pleasure going. He slips out of you, unhappy with your reaction. "Do I have to ask a second time?" He asks through gritted teeth. The evil wickedness is back in his voice. You look at him, his eyes wildly scanning your face. "I hate asking a second time."

You desperately claw at his chest. "Lord Bolton! Lord Bolton!" He grins at your defeat. "Lord Bolton what?" He teases you with the head of his cock, slowly inserting it inside you. You growl at his cruel games.

"Lord Bolton, keep fucking me, ple-" He cuts you off by shoving his cock back inside you, it feels even better than before. You scream as he immediately starts fucking you so hard and fast. Your climax is about to spill over, and he knows it. He yanks your hair, causing your head to fall to the side. "You're mine." He breathes into your neck. You can't hold it back any longer. You begin to cum. Ramsay fucks you through your orgasm, his pace not changing despite your cries and moans. "I am nearly there." He groans. A few more pumps in and out and Ramsay's pace gets erratic. He moans as he shoves his cock into you deeply. He cums deep inside you, his hips bucking as he fills you up. His face is buried in your neck as he groans and catches his breath.

He regains his composure and pulls himself out of you. He flops down beside you and chuckles. "Gods, that was good." He is glistening with sweat and his chest heaves. You can't help but stare at him. His tongue wetting his lips, his Adam's apple lurchs when he swallows. His curls are wet with sweat, sticking to his forehead. His eyes stare at the ceiling, icy blue and returning to reality. He looks at you.

"Did you enjoy that?" He asks, his voice almost sweet, as if he truly cares to know. "Yes, Rams...Yes, Lord Bolton." You look at him, his lips curl into a grin when you call him that. "Good. You learn fast."

#ramsay bolton #game of thrones #ramsay bolton smut #ramsay bolton x reader #ramsay #iwan rheon #ramsaybolton #ramsayboltonsmut #lordbolton #mine

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sgtbradfords · 2 years

Text

can't get you off my mind

Pairing: Bradley ‘Rooster’ Bradshaw x Reader

Summary: A quiet night on the beach thinking about nothing, everything, and all that may lie in-between.

Warnings: fluff, slight angst

A/N: It's been a hot minute since I’ve written a x reader but I watched Top Gun Maverick and thought it was time to brush off the cobwebs. Enjoy! :)

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The sand of the beach was warm beneath your feet as you dug them into the sand, filtering the small granules between your toes. The sun had long since set over the Pacific and the tide had rolled in, moving closer and closer to where you say before the waves began to nip at the tips of your painted toenails.

Two months ago you decided you had had enough of the drama and bullshit that your small east coast town provided and had decided to move to the tiny suburb of Miramar located just outside of San Diego.

Where you now found yourself wasn't random in the least. Your pseudo-grandfather Jimmy, who was a friend of your father's, was the long time barkeep at a bar on the beach which was run by a woman named Penny. They had both welcomed with open arms and no sooner than you walking through the doors of the bar did you have a place to stay and a place to work.

Never would you have imagined you'd work your ass off for four years to obtain a degree only to become a bartender but here you were. You shook your head, knowing you wouldn't change it for the world as for the first time in a long time, you were happy.

"What's a girl like you doing out here on a night like this?"

You rolled your eyes at the line that fell past the lips of the man you had become to know all too well over the past week as you brought the glass bottle in your hand up to your lips. You took a long drag before quickly pulling the bottle away as your face soured.

"How long have I been out here?" You asked with the turn of your head to find that the man who last night you swore would be the bane of your existence, was now moving to sit down on the sand beside you.

The sky before you was dark, save for the rogue star or two that could be seen through the light pollution that came from the city. You would have been in the dark, had it not been for the soft glow that came from the strands of fairy lights that were crisscrossed over the deck behind you.

Even in the low light you could see the brown leather jacket that concealed his signature white undershirt and probable Hawaiian shirt he wore underneath.

"An hour or two." He spoke nonchalantly as though he hadn't been watching you from the edge of the deck railing. "You're missing out on one hell of a party."

"I'm sure I am." You told him dismissively. You didn't give two shits about the party that was happening behind you.

"This about the other night?" He asked as you watched his fingers toy with the neck of the bottle in hand before bringing it up to his lips.

"No." You were quick to reassure him as your body turned in the sand. "I- That was nice."

'That was nice?' You mentally berated as he pulled the bottle away from his lips with an audible pop. Your skin was still a splotchy red in certain and sensitive areas from the mustache of his upper lip.

"Nice?" He parroted and you just knew he was raising a brow.

Your cheeks warmed as vague images of the other night came to your mind. If the bottle you'd abandoned to the sand was cold, you would have strongly considered placing it against your skin. "Like you need a boost to your already inflated ego, Roose."

Rooster chuckled, a deep and musical sound that reminded you of what that sound feels like as it reverberates against your skin. Your body shifted against the sand underneath your jeans, clenching your thighs together at the memory. "No, I don't need that."

"What’s it like?”

The faint sound of the music in the background could be heard but it was nothing compared to the overpowering noise that came from waves in front of you. Your thoughts were errant and varied l, that much was obvious, especially for Bradley to call you out on. It wasn't because of what had transpired between you and the pilot a few nights back and every night since but rather, you were still finding it difficult to process the scuttlebutt you had been hearing over the past week.

Something big was happening, something that required the Navy to bring in their top aviators for what you had gathered to be for training purposes but the water cooler gossip had not exposed what that something may be. Though, you had your guesses.

A questionable hum filled the air. “When you’re up there," You asked the question once again as you turned your head to find him looking out towards the horizon that never stopped. "What's it like?"

His lips pursed in thought before a breathy laugh fell past his lips as he wet them, gathering the drop of brew that had failed to make it in his mouth. “It’s… Exhilarating.” He declared quietly as his head turned to meet your gaze. You could see a million stories behind the look he was giving.

“Exhilarating?”

Rooster nodded once as his eyes become hooded, sending goosebumps across your skin which caused you to shiver. “You cold?”

“No, I’m-” But before you could finish your sentence, was he pulling off the brown leather jacket, draping the material over your shoulders. You fought the urge to bring the collar of the material up to your nose as the scent of what you knew to be his body wash, became more prominent. "Thanks."

He grinned and you knew there was more to Bradley Bradshaw than meets the eye. Which is why you failed to hold back a chuckle at the sight of the blue Hawaiian shirt that now hung loosely off his shoulders.

"What?" He asked with an amused yet confused tilt to his voice.

“So what’s the deal with the shirts?”

Rooster looked down. “What, you don’t like them?”

“I never said that.” You told him coyly before biting at the corner of your lip.

Feeling bold, you began to lean your body forward, glancing at his parted lips as the distance between the two of you began to close.

“Hey Rooster!” Fanboy yelled from behind, his voice carrying from where he stood just outside the sliding glass door behind them. “Payback wants a redo on darts.”

Rooster sighed, his eyes closing as his forehead pressed against your own, the warmth of his breath falling against your lips. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok.” You whispered, pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips before pulling away. “Just promise you’ll make it up to me?” You proposed with a grin as you pushed your feet further into the sand, making the motion to stand.

You turned your body, pulling the jacket tighter around your shoulders to find his brown eyes staring directly into yours]. You couldn’t hold back your grin as the corners of you lips turned upwards with the extension of your hand, silently offering him some assistance to which he readily accepted.

“I think I can manage that.” He quietly agreed, weaving your fingers together as you both made your way back towards the bar.

Using some form of wordless yet mutual understanding, the two of you continued to ignore the ‘What Ifs’ that lingered overhead.

“Rooster!” Fanboy yelled once more as the two of you strolled closer. “You coming?”

“Why don’t you go get your eyes checked Garcia!” He yelled back as you sighed, moving your body closer to Roosters which allowed you to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Jackass…” Rooster mumbled under his breath, causing you to chuckle as his lips pressed a kiss to the crown of your head.

“Be nice.”

“I am nice.” He defended with an outcry as you grunted in return. “Sometimes.”

The stride the two of you possessed slowed as you neared the bottom of the steps, your body turning to face his while your hand softly landed against his chest.

“Bradley.” You stated as he raised a brow at the use of his first name. But the action was short lived as you fisted the white shirt in hand, bringing his mouth closer towards yours, your lips feathering against his but never pressing against his, leaving something to be desired. “Go kick some ass.”

Quickly you pressed a kiss to his lips before releasing the material in hand to turn on your heel, making your way up the steps with an extra sashay to your hips. You reached the top of the steps only to find Rooster still standing at the bottom with a bewildered look upon his face.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts before making his way to join you at the top.

You were going to be the death of him. If the assignment didn’t do it first.

#rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #top gun imagine #top gun maverick imagine #fanfic

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thenorthsource · 5 months

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For the lovely @ottohight0wer who requested an Arnolf Karstark edit!

ADWD – Jon I

Arnolf Karstark was the late Lord Rickard's uncle. He had been made the castellan of Karhold when his nephew and his sons went south with Robb, and he had been the first to respond to King Stannis's call for homage, with a raven declaring his allegiance.

ADWD – Jon IV

“I am […] inclined to bestow Winterfell upon Arnolf Karstark. A good northman."

"A northman." Better a Karstark than a Bolton or a Greyjoy, Jon told himself, but the thought gave him little solace.

[…]

"Arnolf Karstark is an old man with a crooked back, and even in his youth he was never the fighter Lord Rickard was. The rigors of the campaign may well kill him."

[…] Arnolf Karstark writes that the storms have been fierce upon the narrow sea. […] I must consider White Harbor lost to me. […] I can only hope to win the north by battle.”

ADWD – Reek III

"Stannis must march or lose them … and being the careful commander that he is, he will summon all his friends and allies when he marches. He will summon Arnolf Karstark."

Ramsay licked his chapped lips. "And we'll have him."

ADWD – The Prince of Winterfell

Arnolf Karstark awaits only a sign from Lord Bolton before he turns his cloak […].

ADWD – Jon IX

"Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?"

"He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. "My brother Harry is the rightful lord, and by law I am his heir. A daughter comes before an uncle. Uncle Arnolf is only castellan.”

[…] "Arnolf is rushing to Winterfell, 'tis true, but only so he might put his dagger in your king's back. He cast his lot with Roose Bolton long ago … for gold, the promise of a pardon, and poor Harry's head. Lord Stannis is marching to a slaughter."

#valyrianscrolls #asoiafedit #thenorthedit #valyriansource #arnolf karstark #alys karstark #house karstark #asoiaf #*edits #ours #by jacoby

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buttercuparry · 11 months

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I now know why the idea that courtesy is the answer to every conflict is so prevalent in the fandom. You have a handful of tumblr intellectuals who would rather discuss if Arya should have been feeling guilty about killing the Bolton guard or the degree of it ( he is just a guy standing around, we don't know anything about him, hey maybe he doesn't get paid enough to stop 3 prisoners from leaving!), rather than acknowledge that Arya had gone through hell to survive and she more than any other Stark kid knows the cost of war. Arya's list is called fucked up ( they add the "understandable" adjective immediately after but reiterate that it's fucked up). And the prevalent idea then, in use of all these words is equating Arya to violence. Which is why all those incorrect quote posts of 'Arya's every solution being violence' get so many notes.

Arya's list isn't the measure of her violence. It instead is the proof of her trauma. And she tries again and again to leave the nightmares behind: the countless times she tries to reach Jon, her feeling what good does Joffrey's death do if her mother and brothers are dead, her wanting to stay on with the crew of Titan's daughter.

They would talk about how fucked up her list is hence insinuate the tremendous capacity of violence and draw up theories after theories about Faceless Men but won't ever be conscious enough to recognize that Arya never truly wanted anything to do with the FM ( even after reaching Braavos she tries to stay on the ship).

So imagine knowing all these. To have read all these chapters and to get stuck on the ethics of murdering the Bolton guard. Mind you this is brought up because it has been admitted that previously Arya has had to kill in self defense and for others. There has been a reiteration that there these kills are pardonable since there had been an active threat on her. But the murder of the Bolton guard is a matter of ethics!

And you know what I am not even arguing about that. It is a grey area. But it's the extra scrutiny placed on the female character that gets to me. A clood blooded premeditated murder committed!! As if this murder exists in vacuum. As if this girl who the world around knows to be a commoner would have been allowed to leave Harrenhal by that guard just standing around. As if prisoners and slaves have a say on what is to be their fate. As if each day and every day Arya isn't surrounded by the violence wrought in Harrenhal. As if this violence wasn't necessary for her to make a safe escape.

They would argue it wasn't and here I realize that the issue goes deeper than that. Here is an excerpt of their dialogue:

They maintain that only Gendry and Hot Pie had been in danger here. That Arya was actually safe as she could have just revealed her identity anytime and apparently there were ways of proving it without one recognizing her face ( I doubt that).

Somehow this makes me realize that this sort of thinking is what dismisses Arya's entire arc. This is what had been going wrong in the tv show which reduced all of Arya's trauma to ✨adventure✨because they think all the suffering Arya went through was intentional and could have been stopped anytime! All she had to do was reveal her identity.

I honestly do not know what Arya could have done to prove she was a Stark. When they sent guards to hunt her down and Arya realized that maybe in convincing her two friends to run away with her, she has in turn condemned them- Arya makes a decision to reveal who she is and let herself taken hostage. But here's the thing and no matter how many so called intellectuals throw up shit that her identity could have easily been proven-there would always, always the matter of chance. They could believe or they won't. And what would happen if they won't? Arya would be killed.

Now let's see what would have happened if Roose had ahold of the real Arya? Wouldn't she be in the place of Jeyne Poole. Jeyne has had to suffer under a monster, under a sadist. And those cries that echo around Winterfell now, would have been Arya's. This is what the fandom wants. I mean to say this is what the fandom wants from its female characters. Be the passive recipient of all that is to happen. There is no admiration in taking yourself promptly out of a situation that can be dangerous by actively interfering in the storyline. Act only when an action has been committed against you. There would have been more sympathy for Arya if she bled the way they wanted her to. If her cries echoed through halls. If she wasn't an active participant in her own storyline.

The other thing is the matter of could have. There is always the matter of could have when it comes to Arya. Arya could have tried to be more courteous. Arya could have just let Joffrey cut Mycah's face. And now Arya could have hatched a plan keeping in mind the safety of not only her party but of everyone else ( the Bolton guard) and snuck past. Every decisive control Arya takes is countered with a could have. That Arya chose to simply eliminate the risk in a situation that begged a safe escape isn't taken well. There is always a could have even when the text itself provides us with no definitive answer to this alternative could have.

I never understood how people could judge Dany when she actively brings down an empire of slavery. But now I think I can. There is no passivity. There is unapologetic action against the slave masters. They too perhaps are just some guys standing around to many in this fandom. And every decisive move against them, every violence against them also brings about the compulsion of the could have.

These female characters refuse to be a part of the could have. Of passivity. Their grey actions are to take back control of their storyline. Hence are they vilified. And hence should there be guilt and remorse on their part.

#arya stark #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire

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