#Bolton Valley

[jandeproductions]

Bolton Valley, VT 20MAR2024

Solidly heavy snowfall at the Bolton Valley base area elevations today gave way to very heavy snowfall coming down at over 2 inches per hour in the summit areas In Bolton Valley’s lift rotation schedule, today was the first time the Wilderness Chair would be running since the weekend, so it was a good place to be to get in on all the snow that’s fallen in the past couple of days. So, after ski…

[wistaliia]

seb + abby were emo kids in high school. sam was a sk8r boi. this is canon ca told me so

(silly goofy edit under cut)

[melivora]

When they say they’re in Sheffield but you live in Sheffield so you can tell the truth

[ttheatre-trashh]

mischa headcannons. some of them, at least

-gets noel to repaint his nails every day

-penny got him to read percy jackson, and he loves it very very much

-he just. ?? has very soft hair?? even though he uses like absolutely zero haircare&&

-dog person next question

-dyes his hair sometime. his favourite is a red split dye.

-binge watches jake and johnnie videos.

-converse.

-loves teen movies like HSM and mean girls and heathers. i will never give up on this

-him and noel and constance watch victorious together.

-troy bolton was his gay awakening

-he really likes spongebob popsicle????

-extremely invested in his stardew valley farm.

-obsession with hamsters. can tell you anything you want to know about them. and anything yuo dont want to know.

[asa-do-your-thing]

restraint

18+ MINORS DNI Roose Bolton x F!Reader 2.5 k Warnings: P in V sex, porn w/o plot, smut duh, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, blood, orgasm denial, humiliation/degredation ~ reupload due to technical issues ~

You sat as still as you could and watched your husband, Roose Bolton, as he carefully filled out ledgers and wrote missives. A shiver ran over your semi-naked form, your shift not giving you nearly enough warmth. Roose looked up and studied you with his pale eyes, the corners of his lips twitching into something akin to a smile. “Do you know how long you’ve been sitting there already?”, he asked nonchalantly.

You tried your best to look outside without turning your head, a small blush creeping up your cheeks. “No, my Lord, I do not. As long as you have wished me to sit here.”

“Hm, that much is true. And do you remember why you are sitting there, in your shift and stockings?”, he asked, putting his quill away and standing up to pour himself some ale, smiling coldly as he saw the way you gulped to relieve your parched throat.

A crack of thunder made you flinch and your blush spread even further. This was… well, you would’ve thought that you would have died of embarrasment, yet… you were enjoying this just as much as he was. You had seen the way he was constantly shifting in his seat, readjusting himself under his desk - your husband, who to others seemed like the coldest, eeriest man in Westeros, was unable to stay focused on his lordly duties, because he was as pent up as a fourteen-year old boy.

“Because I wished to walk around the Dreadfort in barely any clothes during this storm, so my Lord has decided to punish me for my childish behavior,” you whispered with a tiny smile. “And because I am just such a silly little girl, my Lord has instructed me to wait for him to finish his tasks, without moving from the spot.”

Roose walked towards you slowly, his gaze never leaving your face. He took a sip of ale and licked his lips. "And have you learned your lesson, sweetling?"

You nodded, not trusting yourself to speak. The hunger in his eyes made heat pool low in your belly. If anyone knew the relationship, the dynamic you had with your husband… But then again, hadn’t your septa and your mother told you that the most important thing in your life would be to serve your husband?

He set the tankard down on a side table and came to stand before you. His fingers traced along your collarbone and down between the valley of your breasts. "I'm not certain you fully understand the consequences of your actions. Perhaps a more thorough punishment is in order."

Before you could respond, his hand fisted in your hair, yanking your head back. You gasped at the sudden sting of pain that melted into pleasure as his lips claimed yours in a bruising kiss.

When he finally released you, you were both breathless. "To the bed. Now," Roose commanded in a voice that brooked no argument.

On shaky legs, you stood and made your way to the large four-poster bed, the cool air caressing your heated skin. You could feel Roose's eyes on you, tracking your every movement like a predator stalking prey.

"Remove your shift and lay on your back," he instructed as he began to methodically remove his own clothing.

With trembling fingers, you untied the laces and let the thin fabric pool at your feet before climbing onto the bed. The furs were soft against your bare skin as you settled against the pillows. This was always the most exhillarating moment - when you saw that Roose was thinking, slowly stroking himself. Thinking how to punish you, thinking about how he could claim you, and you’d only know once he started.

“Gods, you’re pathetic. Already dripping onto the furs,” he stated matter-of-factly and methodically opened your legs, opening them like the maester did when he had examined your maidenhead. “And there I was, trying to punish you. Now you’ll expect me to fuck you senseless so you can get rid of that burning desire?”

You whimpered and squirmed under his intense scrutiny, equal parts embarrassed and aroused by his crude words. "Please, my Lord," you breathed, unsure if you were begging him to stop or to never stop.

Roose chuckled darkly. "Please what, my little whore? Please fuck you until you scream? Please make you come undone on my cock?" He ran a finger teasingly along your slit, making you gasp and arch your back wantonly.

"Yes...oh gods, yes!" you cried, all sense of propriety abandoned in your desperation for his touch. Your mind was awash in a haze of lust, caring for nothing but the ache between your thighs.

"As much as I'd love to bury myself in your sweet cunt, you haven't earned that privilege yet," Roose declared, withdrawing his hand. You nearly sobbed at the loss of contact. He grasped your hips and flipped you over onto your stomach in one swift motion. "Up on your knees. Spread yourself open for me."

Humiliation burned through you as you slowly shifted into the degrading position, face pressed into the furs while reaching back to part your buttocks with trembling hands. Never had you felt so exposed, so vulnerable. The first sharp slap to your rear made you yelp in surprise. Roose rubbed the abused flesh almost soothingly before delivering another. Every slap came harder than the last and your pain became ever greater, but so did your yearning for your husband. “P-please, Lord Hus-Husband… I’ll… I want… I’ll be good, I’ll… control myself…,” you whimpered, your cheeks moist as his hand connected once more with your raw flesh. “Be your… good little… quiet wife…”

Roose's hand paused, resting heavily on your stinging backside. "Will you now?" he mused, his fingers trailing along the crease between your burning cheeks. "And how do I know this lesson will stick? That you won't be traipsing about the Dreadfort like a wanton harlot the moment my back is turned?"

You shook your head frantically against the furs. "I won't, my Lord, I swear it! I'll be good, I'll obey, please..." Your voice cracked on a sob, overwhelmed by the heady mix of pain and desperate arousal.

"Shh, sweetling," Roose soothed, his hand stroking up your spine and tangling in your hair. "I believe you." He used his grip to turn your head to the side so he could see your tear-stained face. "But I'm going to make certain you never forget."

With that, he shifted to kneel behind you, the thick head of his manhood pressing insistently against your cunt. You were so wet, he slid in easily despite the stretch. A broken moan fell from your lips as he filled you completely, your inner walls clenching around his length. Roose set a relentless pace, the harsh slap of skin against skin mingling with your whimpers and cries. One hand locked around your hip while the other was buried in your hair, holding you up cruelly but oh-so-sweetly at the same time.

It felt like heaven. For if there was one thing you loved most about your Lord Husband, it was his ability to make love to you. You knew in your hazy mind that most people would not consider what he did to you to be love, but strangely enough it felt like the highest reward to be treated as such by him. Because even if you were his toy in his chambers, he expected you to be a formidably cold and smart Lady Bolton outside of them.

Your impending release quickly dragged you out of your thoughts and you could do naught but to bury your hands into the furs, wincing and moaning as he pulled you closer onto his cock. Roose's thrusts grew more erratic, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips hard enough to bruise. You could feel your own peak rapidly approaching, your body tensing and quivering in anticipation. Just as you teetered on the precipice of ecstasy, ready to let the waves of pleasure crash over you, Roose suddenly stilled.

With a firm grip, he flipped you onto your back, his pale eyes boring into yours with an intensity that made you shiver. "Did you think I would let you find your release so easily?" he asked, his voice deceptively calm despite his labored breathing. "After your wanton display? No, sweetling. You'll have to work much harder for that privilege."

You whimpered in frustration, your body aching for completion. "Please, my Lord," you begged, trying to rock your hips against him, desperate for any friction. "I need..."

"I know exactly what you need," Roose cut you off, pinning your hips to the bed with bruising force. "But you won't be getting it. Not until I deem you worthy."

He slowly withdrew from your clenching heat, making you cry out at the loss. You felt empty, hollow, your body singing with unsatisfied need. Roose stood from the bed, leaving you sprawled wantonly across the furs, a sheen of sweat glistening on your skin in the candlelight.

"Clean yourself up and compose yourself," Roose commanded sternly as he began to dress. "I expect you presentable and in the Great Hall within the hour."

You struggled to sit up, your limbs trembling from the strain of your denied release. "But my Lord..." you started to protest meekly.

Roose fixed you with a piercing stare that silenced you instantly. "Do not make me repeat myself, wife. You will do as you're told or face further consequences. I will not tolerate disobedience."

With that, he swept from the room, leaving you alone with your frustrated arousal and stinging shame. Gingerly, you rose from the bed on unsteady legs and made your way to the wash basin. As you cleaned the evidence of your coupling from your thighs, you couldn't help but grin. He was mean, wicked even, but you knew that was exactly what he needed - a soft wife for himself and a strong partner, who supported him on the outside. The only thing that could not be convinced of your love and respect for your husband was your weeping, fluttering cunt that wished for nothing but sweet release.

After carefully pinning up your mussed hair and donning a demure gown, you made your way to the Great Hall as instructed. Roose was already seated at the high table, surveying the gathered household with cool appraisal. You took your place beside him, locking your eyes with his, curtsying and sitting down next to him, displaying your expected power and gave him a respectful kiss on his cheek. “Lord Husband.”

Roose nodded in acknowledgement but his eyes remained fixed ahead, not sparing you a glance. Throughout the meal, he engaged in discussion with his men, barely paying you any mind. You tried to focus on your food but found your appetite lacking, still keenly feeling the ache between your thighs.

As servants cleared away the dishes, Roose finally turned to you. "Walk with me, wife," he said, rising from his seat. It was not a request.

You followed obediently as he led you out of the Hall and into the torch-lit corridor. The stone was cold beneath your slippered feet. Roose didn't speak, the only sound the swishing of your skirts and his measured footsteps. He came to a halt before a heavy wooden door - the entrance to his study.

Producing a key, he unlocked the door and gestured for you to precede him up the winding stairs. Your heart raced in both trepidation and anticipation. At the top, you emerged into the study itself, the scent of parchment and leather filling your nostrils. Roose shooed the servant away and locked the door behind you with a resounding click.

"Disrobe and bend over the desk," he commanded calmly, as if merely commenting on the weather. “Don’t make me wait.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you untied the laces of your gown, letting the heavy fabric slide from your shoulders to pool at your feet. The chill air pebbled your nipples and you bent over, spreading your thighs for him. “Thank you…,” you whispered with a small smile and gasped as he wrapped his hand around your throat, silencing you. You could distinctly feel his other hand tugging his cock out of his breeches - gods, he didn’t even take them off - and positioning it against your entrance.

“One squeak and I’ll stop and then you won’t get anything at all, my girl,” he muttered, lust tinging his own voice. “Enjoy it.”

With one powerful thrust, Roose sheathed himself fully inside your aching core. The sudden intrusion made you gasp, but you quickly bit your lip to stifle any further sounds, heeding his warning. He set a brutal pace, each snap of his hips driving him deeper, stoking the embers of your arousal into a raging inferno.

The hand at your throat tightened just slightly, not enough to truly restrict your breathing but serving as a constant reminder of his complete control. His other hand gripped your hip, blunt nails digging into the soft flesh as he used the leverage to pull you back onto his cock.

You braced your hands against the sturdy desk, knuckles white as you struggled to maintain your silence. Each thrust seemed to hit that secret spot within you, sending jolts of electricity racing up your spine. Roose was not a vocal lover, but you could hear his breathing growing more labored, could feel him throbbing inside you as he chased his own release.

Despite the authority he wielded over you, in these intimate moments you knew you held a power over him too. The usually cold and stoic Lord of the Dreadfort, driven to base animal instinct by the heat of your body. It was intoxicating.

The pressure built inexorably, your inner walls beginning to flutter around his pistoning length. You were so close, balancing on a knife's edge, desperate for that final push to send you careening into ecstasy. Your teeth clenched as hard as they could and tears of desperate pleasure dripped down onto Roose’s hand. Please, you wished to mumble, please, I’ve been so good, but you restrained yourself and simply breathed deeply.

Roose could sense your impending climax, the telltale quiver of your walls giving you away. With a particularly hard thrust, he growled low in your ear. "Now, wife. Come for me now."

His command was your undoing. The coil within you snapped and your orgasm crashed over you in wave after wave of searing bliss. You convulsed around him, mouth open in a silent scream as pleasure radiated out to the very tips of your fingers and toes. Through the haze, you could feel Roose's thrusts grow erratic before he buried himself to the hilt, spilling his hot seed deep inside you with a guttural groan.

For a moment, you both remained locked together, chests heaving as you came down from your carnal high. Then Roose withdrew, leaving you feeling bereft and empty. On shaky legs, you turned to face him, seeing him tuck himself back into his breeches, his expression once again an unreadable mask.

"Clean yourself up," he instructed brusquely. "And make sure you're properly covered. I won't have my wife parading around looking like a well-used whore."

"Yes, my Lord," you replied demurely, even as a secret smile played at the corners of your lips. You knew that beneath his icy exterior, you held sway over Roose in a way no one else did. It was a heady feeling. So when you were dressed and presentable, you gently took Roose’s hand and gave him a small smile, drawing him closer and giving him a soft, gentle kiss with your bloodied lips.

Roose stiffened momentarily at the tender gesture, unused to such open affection directly after his punishments. But after a heartbeat, he relaxed into the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle the back of your head. When you pulled back, he studied your face intently, his pale eyes searching yours for any hint of deception or manipulation. He found only genuine warmth and devotion reflected back at him.

"You are a strange creature," he murmured, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips, smearing the blood. "Soft and yielding, yet possessing a core of steel. You would let me do the most depraved things to you, and still look at me with such...love." He said the word as if it were foreign on his tongue.

You leaned into his touch, turning your head to press a kiss to his palm. "I am yours, my Lord. In body, mind, and soul. There is nothing you could do to change that."

Something flickered in Roose's eyes, there and gone too quickly to identify. He lowered his hand and stepped back, putting distance between you once more. "We shall see," he said cryptically. "Now go, before I decide to bend you over the desk again."

You dipped into a curtsy, a secret smile playing about your lips. "As my Lord commands." With that, you turned and slipped from the study, feeling Roose's eyes boring into your back.

[vhs-80]

F.J.'s Blackhawk Market

DANVILLE, CA

Design: Bolton Design Group, Carmel Valley, CA

From Market Supermarket and Hypermarket Design (1990)

scan

[greatworldwar2]

• No. 125 Newfoundland Squadron RAF

Motto: Nunquam domandi ("Never to be tamed")

Squadron Codes: FN (Apr 1939 – Sep 1939) VA (Jun 1941 – Nov 1945)

Number 125 (Newfoundland) Squadron was a Royal Air Force squadron active during World War II and briefly in the mid-1950s. Throughout its service the squadron primarily operated night fighters. No. 125 Squadron was initially formed at Old Sarum, Wiltshire on 1 February 1918 as a light bomber squadron of the Royal Flying Corps. It was planned for the squadron to become operational and deploy to France in September however it was instead disbanded on 1 August 1918, thus never seeing active service in the First World War.

No. 125 Squadron was reformed on June 16th, 1941 at RAF Colerne equipped with Bolton-Paul Defiant night fighters. The squadron was raised as a result of a war loan raised by the Newfoundland Commission of Government in 1940. After discovering a surplus of revenue, the commission presented the British Government with $500,000 to establish a squadron with the hope that it would be manned by Newfoundlanders. This hope was realised with at least a dozen Newfoundlanders flying with No. 125 Squadron in its early days along with a contingent of English, Scottish, Welsh, Commonwealth and Polish pilots. Volunteers from Newfoundland and Labrador died at a higher rate while serving with the Royal Air Force (RAF) than with any other branch of the British Armed Forces during the war. On 24 September 1941, the squadron moved to RAF Fairwood Common, Wales and became fully operational, with the Defiant proving to be a more than effective night fighter. By February 1942, No. 125 Squadron began to convert over to the twin-engined Bristol Beaufighter, with these becoming operational by April. Defiants and Hawker Hurricanes were also used to supplement the Beaufighters in the squadron's patrols. With an increasing number of Newfoundlanders being found in No. 125 Squadron's ranks, some aircrew began to name their aircraft in recognition of their Newfoundland heritage: St, John's, Corner Brook, Deer Lake and Buchans were some of the names they used. From October to December 1942, the squadron operated a detachment at RAF Sumburgh in the Shetland Islands.

No. 125 Squadron moved north to RAF Valley in November 1943 in order to carry out patrols over the Irish Sea. While based here the squadron operated a detachment from RAF Ballyhalbert in Northern Ireland. Despite being a 'Newfoundland' squadron, by November 1943 only 5 of the 30 aircrew were from Newfoundland as well as 45 of the roughly 200 ground crew came from the Dominion. With a conversion to de Havilland Mosquito night fighters in February 1944, No. 125 Squadron moved south to RAF Hurn, Dorset at the end of March. This was in preparation to cover the Operation Overlord landings in Normandy. In April, No. 125 Squadron had their caribou squadron badge officially approved by King George VI. The squadron also participated in intercepting Operation Steinbock raids from January to May 1944. With a bridgehead secured in France and with the commencement of V-1 flying bomb attacks on London, the squadron moved to RAF Middle Wallop in July 1944 to fly night time interceptions.

On October 18th, 1944, No. 125 Squadron moved to RAF Coltishall, Norfolk. From Coltishall the squadron defended against enemy intruders and Heinkel He 111s carrying flying bombs, as well as undertaking reconnaissance to locate the remainder of German shipping. In April 1945, No. 125 Squadron transferred up to RAF Church Fenton in Yorkshire. Here it saw out the war before disbanding for the second time on 20 November 1945 when its aircraft and personnel were renumbered to No. 264 Squadron. By the end of the war No. 125 Squadron had managed to score 44 victories, 5 probables and 20 damaged. No. 125 Squadron reformed in March 1955 as a night fighter unit once more. While based at Stradishall, the squadron operated alongside fellow night fighter units No. 89 Squadron and No. 152 Squadron, as well as No. 245 Squadron. The Squadron was disbanded for the final time in May 1957.

[ladygreywritesstuff]

Stardew Valley:

Dig Deep -- Farmer/Marlon -- 12/12 Chapters

Stargazers -- Farmer/Marlon -- a sequel to Dig Deep -- 1/? Chapters

Just Enjoying the View -- Farmer/Marlon -- smutty one-shot

Other one-shots and drabbles

Game of Thrones/ASOIAF:

What Storms May Blow -- OC of House Frey/Barristan Selmy -- 25/29 Chapters

A Promise Broken -- Tywin Lannister/Joanna Lannister -- drabble

Elevator Music -- OC/Tywin Lannister, Modern AU -- one-shot

Kissing Roose -- various/Roose Bolton -- drabble collection

Wrong Address -- Jaime Lannister/Brienne of Tarth, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

True or False -- OC/Roose Bolton -- 26/26 Chapters

Not Today -- Arya Stark/Jaqen H'ghar, Modern AU -- 3/3 Chapters

Therapy -- Roose Bolton/Fat Walda Frey, Modern AU -- one-shot

Protégé -- Roose Bolton/Arya Stark (aged up), Modern AU -- one-shot

LadyGreyWrites on AO3

Header by @saradika-graphics

[whencyclopedia]

Horatio Gates

Horatio Gates (1727-1806) was an English-born general of the Continental Army during the American Revolutionary War (1775-1783). Initially viewed as a hero for his stunning victory at the Battles of Saratoga, Gates' reputation was later tarnished by both his involvement in the Conway Cabal to replace George Washington as army commander, and his catastrophic defeat at the Battle of Camden.

Early Life & British Service

Horatio Gates was born on 26 July 1727 in Maldon, Essex County, England. He was likely the son of working-class parents Robert and Dorothea Gates; his mother, a housekeeper for the Duke of Bolton, was able to use her position to secure opportunities for her family that otherwise would have been out of reach. For instance, through her friendship with the waiting-maid of the Walpole family, Dorothea Gates managed to get future English writer and politician Horace Walpole (who was 11 years old at the time) to be the godfather of her son. In 1745, 18-year-old Horatio Gates was able to purchase a commission as an ensign in the British Army, largely thanks to the influence of the Duke of Bolton.

The young Ensign Gates has been described by biographers in unflattering terms; one characterized him as a "little ruddy-faced Englishman peering through his thick spectacles" and a "snob of the first water" (quoted in Boatner, 412). He first served with the 20th Regiment of Foot in Germany during the War of Austrian Succession (1740-1748) before volunteering to travel to Halifax, Nova Scotia, to serve under its governor, Edward Cornwallis; Cornwallis was not only an early mentor to Gates but also the uncle of Lord Charles Cornwallis, who would one day face Gates on the battlefield. Promoted to the rank of captain in the 45th Regiment of Foot, Gates saw action against the Mi'kmaq and Acadians in Canada. In 1754, he married Elizabeth Philips, daughter of a Nova Scotia councilman, with whom he would have one son, Robert (b. 1758).

In 1755, as the French and Indian War (1754-1763) was escalating in North America, British General Edward Braddock was sent to lead an expedition to capture the French-held Fort Duquesne and thereby assert British control of the Ohio River Valley. Gates traveled to Fort Cumberland, Maryland, to join the expedition, where he would have met several other men who would one day also play key roles in the American Revolution including Daniel Morgan, Thomas Gage, Charles Lee, and, of course, Lt. Colonel George Washington of the Virginia militia. Braddock's Expedition set out on 29 May 1755 and made it to the Monongahela River a little over a month later, where it was ambushed by French troops and their Indigenous allies. General Braddock was killed in the ambush, and a large portion of his army became casualties including Gates, who was wounded. The survivors retreated to friendly territory.

After the Battle of the Monongahela, Gates was mainly relegated to positions of military administration, something at which he proved exceptionally talented. He served as chief-of-staff first to Brigadier General John Stanwix and then to Stanwix's replacement, Robert Monckton. In 1762, Gates accompanied Monckton in the capture of Martinique. Although Gates did not experience much combat during the expedition, he was nevertheless tasked with bringing news of the victory to England and was rewarded with a promotion to the rank of major. The war ended the following year and Gates returned to England, only to realize he had little future in the British Army; the limitations put on him by his social status meant that he could not advance much further in the military than he already had. Frustrated, Gates sold his major's commission in 1769 and, with assistance from his old army comrade George Washington, moved to Virginia with his family. Gates purchased Traveler's Rest, a Berkeley County plantation next door to Washington's younger brother, Samuel. As Gates began his new life as a Virginian planter, he also purchased several enslaved people to labor in his fields.

Continue reading...

[mothmiso]

England 2022 (2) (3) by badnewf

Via Flickr:

(1) After completing the walk of more than 7 wet miles to Bolton Abbey and back north, the rain finally stopped, the sun peeked over the dales, and a mist seemed to follow us. The River Wharfe is in Yorkshire, England, and originates within the Yorkshire Dales National Park. For much of its middle course, it is the county boundary between West and North Yorkshire. Its valley is known as Wharfedale. (I'm told that the Wharfe is also one of the best rivers in the UK for swimming.) (2) Flora and fauna along the Dales Way trail astounds. The footpath, in the Yorkshire Dales National Park, tracks both sides of the River Wharfe, north of Bolton Abbey. (3) This beautiful turreted bridge crosses the River Wharfe north of the Strid and doubles as an aqueduct. The clever castellations hide the pipe that carries water from the reservoirs at the top of Nidderdale to the cities of West Yorkshire.     

[jandeproductions]

Bolton Valley Nordic & Backcountry, VT 19MAR2024

Carving some tracks in glades on the Nordic & Backcountry Network during this afternoon’s ski tour The system that’s been affecting our area over the past day or so really started to crank up yesterday evening, delivering some periods of heavy snowfall up in the 1”/hr. range with large flakes. By this morning we’d picked up about a half foot of snow from the system here at our site in the valley,…

[endless-petals]

Best OC Playlist

Ana

Betty

Maggie

Thimble

Carrie

Ilwyn

Roxie

Charlie

Nyx

[vhaemystheberserker]

Considering that the north is possibly under the possession of the Boltons (Ramsay) and Sansa is in the Vale, Arya lost, Bryan in crow. The north would be under the rule of House Bolton, since Jeyne fled; possibly ramsay would take a mormont or a "noble" house so he could have a wife and heirs and reaffirm. but many lords loyal to the Starks and who were possibly killed by Ramsay would leave the regency on a tightrope and the north would be in a constant "what if" they would possibly try to overthrow them, But I can consider that the children are already 25 years old, So. .. Did Jeyne run away and leave them? It depends on whether reality will match this vision. because at the time ramsay dominates the north and starts torturing Theon; It's after the war of Kings, so who would be on the throne would be... Tommen and Margaery. and Cersei as Queen Mother, The Pinky Valley, could be based on that reality. Would there be a starting point? This way I could organize a narrative with what happened. by the way... based on the series or books?

Jeyne did not run away and leave any children behind, as Warreck, Ravette, and Solomon are not her children, their mother was another woman of House Stark that House Bolton had on standby as a hostage and possible wife for Ramsay should he accidently/purposefully kill Jeyne, but since Jeyne fled, Ramsay married the Stark woman and out popped the children between a few months or a year later, during of which, yes, Ramsay is Lord of House Bolton!

As for a starting point, there is none, as I couldn't figure out what to make for one when writing her lore 🙏 (Atleast, I hope thats what the question meant, Im half-asleep, so forgive me if I misunderstood.) And, I was thinking more-so books leaning rather than series, but you are also welcome to take liberties from the show and mix them in!

Also, if I forgot to answer ANY questions, that was because when reading through the ask, my tired brain did not register them 💀

[cobraes]

some  extra  information  for  crossover muses:

josie  geller,  removed  from  never  been  kissed.      fresh  out  of  college,  miss  josie  geller  is  a  junior  reporter  working  for  a  local  newspaper  desperate  for  a  good  headline.  she’s  thrilled  when  they  pick  her  for  her  first  undercover  assignment!  she’s  less  thrilled  when  she  learns  that  undercover  assignment  is  sending  her  back  to  school,  a  place  that  was  never  overly  kind  to  her.  but  her  boss  wants  what  he  wants  and  right  now,  he  wants  the  karate  war  scoop  after  that  infamous  riot  went  horribly  wrong.  heading  back  to  highschool,  it  doesn’t  take  josie  long  to  join  a  dojo,  despite  actually  being  23  years  old.  

katerina  "kat"  stratford,  removed  from  10  things  i  hate  about  you.      katerina  stratford  is  a  west  valley  highschool  student  who,  struggling  to  process  their  mother  abandoning  them,  has  quite  the  reputation  for  being  a  heinous  bitch.  and  she’s  damn  proud  of  it  too!  nobody  would  ever  guess  she  was  related  to  prom  committee  sweetheart,  bianca  stratford.  it  all  made  her  the  perfect  eagle  fang  candidate  when  they  realised  they  need  more  female  students.  both  she  and  her  sister  are  forbidden  to  date  by  their  father,  but  this  has  never  really  been  an  issue  after  that  one  time  with  kyler.  went  on  to  join  miyagi-do  when  they  merged. 

mikaela  banes,  removed  from  the  transformers  franchise.      based  entirely  around  the  quote  "i  have  a  criminal  record  because  i  wouldn’t  turn  my  dad  in.  when  have  you  had  to  sacrifice  anything  in  your  perfect  little  life?"  raised  by  her  single,  car  thief  father  over  on  reseda  heights,  mikaela  grew  up  occasionally  helping  him  with  his  crime  when  he  couldn’t  find  a  babysitter.  by  the  time  she  was  15,  she  found  herself  in  a  juvenile  detention  centre  for  refusing  to  hand  her  old  man  in  to  the  cops.  since  being  released,  she  was  allowed  back  in  highschool  and  eventually  joined  miyagi-do  karate.

sharpay  evans,  removed  from  highschool  musical.      president  of  west  valley  high’s  drama  club  and  karate’s  self-proclaimed  number  one  hater,  she  swears.  sharpay  has  declared  a  personal  vendetta  against  the  karate  kids  and  all  their  dojos  because  the  drama  round  their  little  war  keeps  stealing  limelight  from  their  seasonal  musical.  in  an  attempt  to  fight  fire  with  fire,  she’s  joined  a  dojo  with  the  sole  purpose  of  wanting  to  sabotage  them.

troy  bolton,  removed  from  highschool  musical.      west  valley  high’s  basketball  superstar  and  secret  shower  singer.  troy  initially  joined  cobra  kai  during  kreese’s  reign  and  remained  there  throughout  season  four,  but  he  started  to  have  second  thoughts  after  participating  in  the  attack  on  hawk.  he  eventually  switches  to  miyagi-do,  working  to  gain  their  trust,  but  these  efforts  are  wasted  when  he  fails  to  achieve  a  spot  amongst  their  six  fighters.  when  sensei  wolf  offers  him  a  spot  representing  a  rival  dojo,  troy  accepts,  persuaded  by  his  father  that  a  sekai  taikai  win  will  open  many  doors  for  his  basketball  career.  he  reappears  in  barcelona  as  an  iron  dragons  fighter,  having  accepted.

[domericstone]

who: @firemadeflxsh what: Lord domeric stone, hand of the queen of the vale takes notice of the black dragons in the west. as a northman he supported the black dragon and the vale made the same choice. curiosity is domeric's trade. where: during one of the luncheons in the westerlands.

"Prince Baelon, your highness, allow me to introduce myself. I am Lord Domeric Stone of the Vale, hand of the Queen." The Lord nodded his head briefly in the direction of the other. It was an unusual world when bastards served kings and queens but the world had changed greatly. There were many kings between them, new queens. And the rules were changing everyday. The rules were becoming something no one could have prepared themselves for at the end of the all. The music stopped. The dragons died. And the dance was over.

"The west has not been friendly to us, has it? In the land of green dragons and parading lions." The Lord took a drink from the cup of tea and looked out of the crown ahead of them. Westermen were a strange sort the Lord of Snakes. They were elegant and not to be trusted. None could trust those who lived in reaches of green or valleys of gold.

"It was an honor, to serve for your mother. We great pride in the North." When he was still a Bolton. The newly made Lord of Dread on a shaggy stead with axes on his belt instead of swords. They were boys then, boys newly minted as men.

"How do things fair for you and yours?" Above the true honor he felt in fighting for what seemed right, Domeric needed to know the standing in the land of dragons and storms. Whether it would be worth it for the Vale to look toward them in this new era.

[locomotiveoftheweek]

This week's locomotive of the week is LMS No.5110. 5110 was built in 1935 by the Vulcan Foundry of Newton-le-Willows, Lancashire for the LMS one of Sir William Stanier's "Black 5" class mixed-traffic 4-6-0s. She was taken in to BR stock at nationalisation in 1948 and renumbered to 45110 on the 9th of April 1949. Originally allocated to Holyhead, she bounced between sheds in the late 1960s ending up at Stafford, Bolton and finally Lostock Hall. On August 11th 1968, 45110 made history by becoming one of three Black 5s to haul the Fifteen Guinea Special, the last steam-hauled passenger service on British Railways. After the run the engine was bought by Mr. David Porter, who christened it "R.A.F. Biggin Hill", after which it was sent to it's new home at the Severn Valley Railway where it ran, having a few breif returns to the mainline before being withdrawn with some severe mechanical issues. The engine now resides at Carnforth with plans to be given a full mainline-grade overhaul in time for the 60th anniversary of the Fifteen Guinea Special in 2028.