#They would beat up slavers together

[doodles-with-noodles]

Eret: so yeah they burnt that sign into my flesh

Book Hiccup:

Book Hiccup: Mood are you ready to beat up sum slavers mah new fren

[warpcoreweirdness]

just finished season 2 of Lower Decks and i'm SO glad i tried this show again

i actually started the show a while ago, but the constant easter eggs put me off.

(i still don't know how non-Trekkie viewers are meant to get the jokes where the punchline is "reference!! 😂", but lots of people enjoy it so ymmv).

i stopped a few minutes into episode 2 after Rutherford agrees to quit his job as an engineer so he can watch the Trivoli pulsar with Tendi.

i honestly thought it was going to be a storyline about a guy giving up a job he loves and making his boss angry so that he can spend time with a female friend he has a crush on, because that's the plotline i've been conditioned to expect from tv. i wasn't feeling excited about the show, so i put it on pause.

but if i'd watched for about two more seconds before noping out for a few months, i would've seen this:

when i started watching again, i realised that the episodes never bog themselves down in drawn-out, uncomfortable storyline or character staples - they're actually incredibly well-written, tightly paced, and tell their stories in just the right amount of time. Rutherford wants to be Tendi's friend (at least for now), his boss Billups is really supportive, and Tendi brings a PADD into the Jefferies tube so they can both do what they enjoy, separately but together.

another great part about that scene with Rutherford and his boss is something that Lower Decks does a lot, which is make jokes that actually rely on subverting audience expectations. a big example - and a way of referencing other parts of the Star Trek franchise that does work for me - is when the creators gently poke fun at or subvert common story beats, emotional arcs, or dramatic moments from other parts of Trek.

like when Rutherford loses his memory and Tendi is excited to get to know him again, rather than devastated that he doesn't remember her.

or when they save themselves from being smooshed by Dooplers by dramatically ejecting the warp core of their tiny model starship.

or when Tendi goes on an arc of significant personal development over the course of one (1) whole episode.

they're general enough that even people who haven't seen other Star Trek shows (or movies) can still recognise and appreciate them.

beyond this, the show also has great moments where they (lovingly) cast a light on some of the flaws and foibles in the franchise, often in subtle or comedic ways.

like showing people in beep chairs living their best lives (in contrast to TOS and SNW's view of the beep chair as a tragic, doomsday fate for Pike).

or using Tendi to comment on Trek's depiction of Orions specifically as all pirates and slavers, and alien cultures more generally as monocultures.

or even just acknowledging that Trek shows mostly focus on the bridge crew doing heroic first contact-esque adventures, when that can't be all there is to Starfleet.

heck, they even have Rutherford go on a journey of acceptance and self-discovery after a permanent memory wipe (in contrast to Uhura in TOS, where it's never mentioned again).

another reason i really appreciate the show is that the creators have taken the time to think through what a more inclusive future could look like, in ways that are noticeably lacking or absent in many other Trek shows:

beyond exploring diversity through explicit identity representation (which is still very important), it does this through its world building as well.

i love this communal sonic shower scene for what it says about gender and body politics in Trek. in the future, why would we still separate bathrooms and changing rooms by gender? and why would we have the same views and expectations around bodies that we (by "we" i mean Western countries) do now?

this short scene dismantles the idea that nudity is inherently sexual, that gender is binary and biological, that some genders can't be trusted around other genders while naked, and that heterosexuality is the default (and when you bring dozens of alien species into the mix, why wouldn't we have more and newer ways of thinking about gender?). it even has a little mention that Boimler prefers not to shower with others, leaving space for people to act however feels most comfortable for them.

it's such a little thing, but after years spent (lovingly) yelling at the screen during TNG, TOS, DS9, etc saying, "why are they assuming everyone is straight? WHY would people be this sexist?", i noticed it immediately and appreciated it immensely.

(this isn't related to the storytelling, but i also have to say - the animation in Lower Decks is so pretty???):

this isn't a perfect show, but it's funny, has fantastic storytelling, and it loves the source material without worshipping it. (which is not something i expected to say, given how it started).

plus i love these characters SO MUCH.

so far, so very good 🤞.

(image descriptions in alt text)

[rvllybllply2014]

Everyone say thank you to @cream-puffs-stuff. They said older Brackenwood, when Amos and Willem were teens captured and forced into slavery. With horse stealing. Warnings for violence, slavery, threats of death, threats of rape. Read at your own risk aka I’m not responsible for what you read.

Amos and Willem are each sent Seaguard by their fathers to collect the goods that they had imported. Neither one had known that fact until they ran into each other on the road. The men that were with them grained internally, thinking that they would have to fight but considering that Amos and Willem are a new secret relationship they just tell their men to stand down. The men do, after all they were just hired by the houses to help them to get the wagons loaded. Anyway Amos and Willem just decide that it would be easier to travel together, they have small arguments to keep up the rouse of them hating each other.

While on the road Amos and Willem decide to stop at a crowded inn. The inn keeper tells them that there’s only one room left with a straw mattress on the floor, Willem and Amos say that they’ll take the room, their men can sleep in stables with the horses. Amos and Willem don’t sleep much that night, they’re too busy exploring each other bodies. It’s also the first time they don’t have to rush, so they truly want to enjoy it. They promise to try to get a room with each other for the next two nights if at all possible. Unfortunately for them the closer they get to Seaguard the less crowded the inns are.

It’s only once they get to the town outside of Seaguard that the inn is small with only room again available. Once again Amos and Willem share it with their men staying with the horses. Again they spend the whole night in each other’s embrace, it’s how they’ll blame the other for what happens later in the day.

Amos and Willem had been warned by the inn keepers that Iron Born pirates are in the area, so they should be careful if they’re there to collect goods. Amos and Willem thank them for the warning and promise each other to look out for the pirates. On the way to the port outside of Seaguard, the pirates don’t show up. It’s only after the wagons have been loaded and Amos and Willem are ready to start heading back home that the pirates attack.

If only Willem and Amos hadn’t stayed up all night then they would’ve beaten the pirates easily. As it was they are just barely able to keep the pirates away from the wagons, they tell the men to take the wagons and head back to their houses. They need the men to tell their fathers what happened to them. After the pirates realize that they’re not getting the goods they grab Amos and chain him up. Willem gives up after he sees Amos chained up, there’s no point in fighting. They both think that they’ll be ransomed out to their fathers, but these pirates know that they’ll get more money if they can sell them to slavers.

So that’s how Amos and Willem are chained up together on a ship and how they became the Dothraki’s slaves. Amos is one of the most beautiful people (he looked like Aeron in his youth) that the Dothraki have ever seen. It’s to the point that the khal tells Amos he better behave or he’ll let his men and women use his body however they want. The khal had also seen how protective Willem was over Amos so he also says that if anything happens to Amos, if it’s rape, a beating or even death he’ll make sure Willem keeps his eyes open to witness it. Only after Amos is raped, beaten or killed, Willem will be killed if the khal is in a merciful mood but if the khal isn’t in a merciful mood Willem will have to live with the knowledge of how he caused Amos’s suffering.

It takes two weeks of them being stuck in slavers bay with the Dothraki for them to come up with a plan on how to escape. Willem and Amos will wait until its night and the guards are in the middle of switching shifts. They won’t have to fight, and Amos can steal a horse. They have to share it, but Willem isn’t opposed to holding onto him for the whole ride. The plan works beautifully, but Willem does grab more slave collars, yes they have one on too but, he figures the gold collars can be used to buy passage on a ship and food.

Once they’re on the road and far enough away from the Dothraki, Amos tells Willem he can keep the collar on his neck as long as he can keep the horse. Willem agrees, mainly because he’s too distracted by Amos’s ass and his need to have him. Willem asks where they’re going after he notices that Amos isn’t riding towards the docks of slavers bay. Amos tells him that they’ll be going to a smaller harbor and use a collar to buy passage and food just like they agreed to earlier. Willem won’t complain or ask anymore questions, he figures that he should just shut up and enjoy the ride with Amos. Besides Amos will ride Willem every night until they reach a harbor.

It takes them two days to reach a safe harbor, and a day of asking around for someone to be able to strike the collars off them. They give a collar to the person as a payment and after they find a ship they use another collar to pay for their safe passage. It takes the ship a couple of days to get them to kings landing, the captain refused to go to Seaguard.

When they reach kings landing Amos and Willem find a maester to send ravens off to their houses, they gave the maester a small piece of the collars. Each of the letters tells their fathers that they are on the way back to the Riverlands, and to not bother sending a reply they’ll already be half way there by the time they receive the letters.

It’s after close to two months of being Willem and Amos being sent out to collect the goods do they finally reach the border lands between their houses. They spend some time in the mill knowing it will be a while before they can see each other again.

Amos reaches Stone Hedge around the same time that Willem reaches Raven Tree hall. Willem gives his father, the remaining gold collars, as proof of what he went through. He still got a beating for getting caught by the pirates and sold into slavery. But it’s not as harsh as it could’ve been. As for Amos his father is just relieved to see Amos is in one piece and surprised to see a Dothraki horse. Lord Bracken tells Amos he just brought an invaluable horse to their house.

When it’s breeding season the horse will breed with standard Bracken horses and make the horses even more sought after.

And that’s how Amos and Willem trauma bonded with each other and managed to stay in love. At least until they were forced into more responsibilities for their houses.

[pumpumdemsugah]

I don't like how Black women with social media brainrot talk about misogynoir because they always end up acting like Black women's bodies are made wrong instead of racism and misogyny working together to dehumanise Black women. They end up implying that Blackness is all those things even though Africans are more genetically diverse than every other racial group in the world combined and this diversity isn't including the descendants of transatlantic slavery. We're not a monolith

They always end up blaming our bodies like we're badly made things pretending to be human beings. Some of you want your Blackness to be non-human so bad instead of learning to see yourself and Black people are normal humans. Self love is genuinely painful for some of you.

Our enslaved foremothers were treated that way because slavers wanted to treat them like that. It doesn't matter what physical attribute Black people did or didn't have, it needed to be animalised to pretend they weren't raping and beating human beings. We could have been on average 4'2ft and 50lb and they would have found a way to make that animalistic and threatening.

It's like everyone thinks racism had an objective point about how we look. Many of you are being ahistorical about what " they didn't see us as women" meant. This line isn't a comment about gender in the modern sense ( sorry you need to read more ) but the fact they saw us like pigs, cows and sheep. We don't call farm animals women or men because they aren't people. Stop being stupid. They called adult Black men boys for the same reason but are we going to start normalising language and ideas that Black men inherently outside adulthood? No! That's racist but everyday you people do this like you said something about Black women. Find self esteem

[ultrapoppet]

The interesting thing about wot is you'd think Rand the most powerful channeller, the chosen one and the king would be the author self insert wish fulfillment character but he's a traumatized sad boy and it's actually his friend Mat. He beats up two princes who've trained all their life with the best trainers because of his village training even though you can't tell me Mat actually spent any time training. His war general abilities are practically magical. He's the best at gambling. Men compulsively follow him to battle. He's misunderstood by women but they end up apologizing to him for thinking he's a selfish fuckboy even though he's a fuckboy and no one calls him out for getting together with a slaver and doing nothing about slavery. He hates nobility but lives like a lord thanks to being a nepo friend and then marries a pro-slavery empress.

Rand still gets three hot girlfriends and gets two of them pregnant and then dips he's not immune to being written by a man.

[secretwhumplair]

Izara's appraisal

956 words | Mirai Izara and the serpent king

Content | Slavery, dehumanization, degradation, restraints, manhandling, crying, implied past beatings, nudity

Notes | Some years before Mirai's arrival, Eshihir adds the first elf to his collection. This one was... quite a bit more feisty.

Tagging the Mirai and the serpent king list, let me know if you don't want to be tagged in Izara's storyline!

Taglist | @yet-another-heathen @echo-goes-aaa @whumpinator @neverthelass

The elf the traders had brought before Eshihir was, in fact, pretty. It was showing, too, his bronze skin only covered by a scanty loincloth, his brown curls messy, but springing around his face.

The only flaws to his beauty, really, were that he was rather too thin, and banged up badly—bruises all over in different shades that suggested multiple beatings over time, raised welts of varied thickness. His wrists, tied together with what seemed an excessive amount of rough rope, were rubbed raw on both sides. Nothing that wouldn’t heal with time, though; his captors had wanted to preserve his beauty.

Eshihir didn’t have to guess at how the slave had ended up in this state. Even as they walked up through the throne room, his keepers had to drag him by the arm, fingers digging hard into what little flesh there was on it as he pulled back, away from his fate.

His face had been, by the looks of it, carefully spared from the ruin, but it was wearing a teeth-bare scowl almost enough to distract from the tears in his eyes. The elf wasn’t looking at Eshihir, eyes fixed somewhere on the stairs leading up to him.

The slavers bowed to him, and yanked the slave down so hard that his skinny knees hit the floor with a thunk audible even from up here.

»Your Majesty! Greetings! We bring you a rare beauty from the West, if you would be so kind as to consider him. He has, unfortunately, not yet learned his manners, but this face is unmatched.« He grabbed the elf by the jaw and forced him to look up, pulling him back onto his feet. Eshihir didn’t fail to notice the elf’s attempt at pulling away, stayed by an even harder grab and hissed words that must have been a threat.

Poor manners, indeed. Eshihir was not normally in the habit of training unruly slaves, but the elf was very pretty, aside from the bones and the bruises.

»I will consider him,« he graciously conceded. »Let him come forward.«

The slaver bent over and urgently whispered into the slave’s ear before letting go of his face. He nodded at his comrade, who was still holding the slave by the arm, and they reluctantly let go. The one who had done the talking gave him a rough shove forward.

The elf, suddenly free from restraint, stumbled, barely keeping himself from falling. He didn’t move to come up to Eshihir; instead, his eyes flickered across the room, across the guards—a wild animal desperately looking for an escape.

»Move, you useless whore,« the slaver hissed; the elf threw a glance at him, his hands balling into fists, but didn’t obey.

Poor manners.

»Fine, I’ll take you up personally.« He grabbed the elf by the arm again—he tried to evade, but not fast or decisive enough—and added something in a threatening whisper before speaking up again in the slimy tone he had used before. »With your permission, of course, your Majesty.«

Eshihir simply nodded, and the slaver dragged the elf up the dais.

Up close, the elf looked even more miserable, but the face the slaver had praised did hold up to the first impression. His hair was about chin-length, but irregular, as if it had been chopped off at some point without much skill or care. His eyes were red from crying, but otherwise a beautiful muddy green. Eshihir could only imagine the possibilities.

The elf had pressed his lips into a thin line, and from the smell of naked fear and the defiance he had made a point of displaying so far, Eshihir was certain it was to hide trembling.

»Let me see him,« Eshihir said, gesturing at the loincloth, and the slaver obeyed with one rough, swift motion.

The elf flinched, blinking away fresh tears; his throat bobbed as he swallowed. Eshihir almost felt bad, but he wasn’t going to buy without properly inspecting the wares.

»Turn around.«

The elf didn’t move an inch, instead venturing a brief, but withering glare at him that sparked something almost playful in Eshishir; if the slave wanted to defy him, he could try. It was the slaver who pulled him around, the elf’s bare feet squeaking softly on the smooth floor. There was nothing unexpected, more bruising and even more welts crisscrossing the elf’s back and absolutely covering an ass that would, Eshihir was certain, look divine healed up and properly fed.

He gestured for the elf to be turned back around. »Open your mouth.«

At this point, he was expecting the response he got, more or less: the elf threw a bitter, defiant glare at him, his jaw muscle merely twitching.

The slaver groaned, grabbed his chin and dug his thumb into the jaw muscle until the elf’s mouth popped open with a pained yelp.

He must have let loose, because when Eshihir raised a hand to turn the slave’s head himself, he snapped at his fingers.

The slaver cursed in a language Eshihir didn’t know and yanked on the slave’s collar, hard enough Eshihir was worried there might be some serious damage. But the elf came back up and only gasped for breath for a few moments while the slaver blubbered apologies, which Eshihir ignored.

»My, my,« he said, not trying to fight the small smile breaking across his lips. »You are quite the brat, aren’t you?«

The elf glared at him, silently. Tears had welled up in his eyes again, whether from the punishment or from fear of more to come, Eshihir couldn’t tell.

This could certainly be interesting.

And who knew how many opportunities he would have to add an elf to his collection, anyway?

[sixofcrowdaydreams]

Shadow and Bone: A Long Form Story in A Short Story Medium

One of the reasons the cancellation of Shadow and Bone hurt so much was because we spent two seasons properly developing the characters -- especially the Crows -- waiting for plot and character development that never had the time to pay off.

The writers wrote the show as if they would have time to introduce the characters and let them grow across multiple episodes and seasons. A smidge of characterization here. Plot. A dash of development there... They were telling a long form story, you know, as expected in television. And the reality is that streaming platforms in their limited episode number and even more restrictive number of seasons does not allow for slow but progressive story telling anymore.

Streaming story telling is short and concise. It demands self contained short stories and caps character growth to a single season, if not a single episode.

That's why it hurts so much that we never saw the six Crows together. Two seasons of establishing character, slowly but steadily setting up the plot, building toward the Ice Court Heist and subsequent events of Crooked Kingdom would be expected in a "normal TV series." But the mentality of streaming services is that if it doesn't happen in a single episode or season, then it won't happen at all.

Think of all the things in Shadow and Bone that were hinted but not directly addressed. Kaz stealing Jan Van Eck's DeKappel painting. Inej getting a lead on the name of the slavers that stole her from her family. Jesper's gambling addiction. Wylan's inability to read, but still being well educated. Matthias' affection for wolves and the importance of his ash tree. Nina defecting from Ravka.

All of these would have been addressed later if given the time.

Now think of all of the things that were hinted at and then the show came back and properly addressed within two seasons. Kaz's backstory, his gloves and haphephobia. Inej's indenture to the Menagerie and her desire for freedom not only for herself, but for other indentures. Jesper happily sharing a bed with a pretty face only to wind up in a stable relationship with a former one night stand. These story beats paid off because their progression felt natural. Earned. Elements were introduced and built upon.

Now imagine what could have been. Established big eater Nina refusing food as she recovers from parem. Former grisha hunter Matthias protecting Jesper and Kuwei, two grisha. Kaz removing his gloves and emotional armor for Inej. Jesper's carefree facade a mask to cover his personal pain and gambling addiction. Wylan's merchling identity revealed. Heck, let's take it a step farther and imagine the scared, hunched shoulders, trying to shrink himself as much as physically possible Wylan we first meet in season 2 bravely standing in front of his father and the merchant council to "read" a transfer of property document. The groundwork laid seasons 1 and 2 would have established these significant moments in order to give them the full weight and authority the deserved.

When fans mention scenes or dialog from the books that were bastardized in the show, like the Kanej bathroom scene taking place at Black Veil only to be interrupted by Nina, I'm not angry that scene wasn't a perfect replica of the scene from the book. Why? Because we were also supposed to get that perfect bathroom scene adaption one day and compare it to the earlier version to show character growth. Kaz unable to take his gloves off at Black Veil to help Inej tend her wounds to THE BATHROM SCENE where he takes off his gloves, bandages her, and kisses her neck.

Imagine the impact of Jesper casually telling Wylan, "I kinda like your face," to one day yelling, "I liked your stupid face," in anguish when Wylan takes Kuwei's appearance. These build ups were happening, they just needed more time.

The problem of Shadow and Bone being canceled was that the writers were creating a long form story in a medium of short story streaming. The two were never compatible, but that's not the writers, producers, or showrunner's fault. They were telling a story and attempting to do it well, not take shortcuts and cheat via dialog exposition. If given the chance, I think the writers and everyone involved in the show would have given the Crows characters more space to breathe, to simple be characters instead of rushing from plot point to plot point. After all, they filmed the deleted scenes of Jesper's and Inej's goodbye as well Jesper offering Wylan a key and moving in together. These moments were cut for plot pacing reasons, not character development reasons.

Netflix and streaming services are the problem because they have destroyed TV's long form story telling by demanding breakneck pacing, limited seasons and episodes to tell a story. Shadow and Bone's Crows were unfortunately a casualty of it.

[hurremsultanns]

I know I specifically singled out s4!Hürrem but can we just talk about Hürrem in general? She threatened a slaver with a knife. She said 'Yes I'm going to steal Mahidevran's man. What are you going to do about it?' She was ready to run into fire to save her son and Sümbül had to stop her. She tells jokes and makes others laugh. She's a walking meme. She's vindictive enough to burn her friend's face. She's willing to eat poisoned sweets and sacrifice herself while pregnant. She spends much of the show dealing with trauma and suicidal ideation. She's ambitious and resolves to rule the world. She's impulsive but also very intelligent and learns how to survive and navigate the world she's in. Her friend's husband does something horrific to her and she doesn't fully drop that friendship for a full season afterwards, but afterwards she's willing to physically beat up that ex friend. She makes alliances by talking to people like normal people. She does charity work. She's politically savvy and knows how to manipulate situations to her advantage. She is the lynchpin holding her family together. She would do anything to protect her children. She is ruthless but she also has a sense of empathy that she never loses.

And this is a female character from a TV show that aired in the early 2010s. Incredible.

[whatandroidsdreamof]

No Saints for Drowning

“I should’ve drowned. I should’ve died with him that night. I still drown every time someone touches me.”

“I don’t want you to drown.” She wanted him to live. To smile and call her pet names with that teasing curl of his lips. She wanted his fingers to braid her hair, skillet bread in the mornings, Kerch’s lawmakers at their mercy, and slavers put to the gallows by dinner. There was a future to their combined dreams.

“There are no Saints for drowning, Kaz, only for those who are lost at sea.” I’ll guide you to shore, she vowed, Saints protect him.

“I told you before, I have no need for your Saints, Inej.” “But you do have a need for me.”

#

Inej comes back from her first sea voyage, and they seize the opportunity to work through their issues together.

Read the first chapter here on AO3 or under the line.

1 Kaz

The Crows made a lot of enemies. Kaz made it his business to keep a step ahead of them. To learn their secrets in case one of them decided to move against them.

Of course, this only worked with enemies he knew he’d made, the people he’d crossed, never the pawns he put to the sidelines, never the nameless people of the lower ranks he decided to sacrifice. Knowing where he’d come from, born out of darkness, sickness, and drowning at nine years old; was it any wonder that someone else would grow up to become just as ruthless and cruel as him? Was it really so unlikely that another person would lull themselves to sleep each night with thoughts of vengeance on their mind and his name on their lips, the same way he’d done for all these years with Pekka Rollins name on his?

He didn’t remember the woman’s name. He didn’t remember her face. They’d met more than once, she claimed. Now she stood tall against the night. She had light hair and wore a simple black mask. Her clear blue eyes burned into what was left of his soul.

“Where is she?” Kaz growled, his breath hung in white puffs in the chill air. He’d run all the way up to this little jetty near the Sweet Reef. His sides ached, his cane was the only thing that kept his bad leg from trembling. The water in front of them was a dark scrying mirror. It had gone quiet. They were far from the bustle of Ketterdam. Far away from his people.

The woman held a lantern in front of her. The only source of light. Behind her on the jetty, a tall rectangular shape stood in relief against the moonlight.

Dirtyhands’ fingers itched for a gun, a throat to squeeze. He couldn’t kill her yet, needed answers first.

“Where is Inej?”

The woman’s mouth stretched crooked, and it took him a second to recognize it as a smile. Her eyes stayed cold.

“My husband told me if you want to destroy someone you have to go for the heart.”

He knew he’d heard these words before. His pulse was going too fast, his lungs smarted. He’d walked into her trap and Kaz needed his wits to make sure Inej and he walked out of it alive. He should’ve picked her up from the harbor the minute his spies had laid eyes on the Wraith. Damn his pride. Damn this insistent fear of losing her.

“I have to say it wasn’t easy to find the right place to cut. Imagine my surprise when I understood that the infamous Dirtyhands has a heart after all.”

Dread plummeted into his stomach like cold lead.

“I put your heart in a box, Mister Brekker. How fast can you swim?” and with that she pulled a lever behind her. The tall box splashed into the still sea ­­– Tall as a coffin, he thought, heart skipping a beat.

He didn’t hear her laughter or her taunts. He threw aside his cane and plunged. The cold was enough to steal his breath.

No time for drowning, he thought, when icy dead hands started to reach for him.

Kaz kicked his legs. Felt the current the sinking coffin made and followed. Jordie embraced him around his shoulder from behind, clamped his hands around his neck.

No time for drowning. No time for the dead. Inej, he thought, Inej was sinking.

His joints ached under the cold. Pain seized his leg, shot all the way up to his spine. Brought him clarity enough to reach. Kaz’s hands found the metal casing of the box. He held on. Let it drag him down. How deep were the waters?

His lungs began to hurt. He should’ve started carrying around baleen years ago. Another mistake.

“Let go, little brother,” Jordie whispered into his ear. Kaz didn’t know if his eyes were open or closed. Jordie’s pale face loomed in front of him. Bloated features, with corpse-fluid strained lips.

“Let go. I’ve been waiting.”

Jordie’s fingers were colder than the water. They seemed to reach into his chest and twist something there.

The iron coffin jolted as it hit the seabed. A plume of debris rose up. Harbor dirt and seaweed, hands and legs of the dead brushing against him. Cold pruned flesh, soft with salt, rubbed against him. Closer and-

His clamped fingers vibrated.

Inej. She was throwing fists against the box. Kicking her legs.

There was a high pitch in Kaz’s ears. He couldn’t see. Blindly he reached for the iron coffin. There were bars on eye level. His index finger brushed against Inej’s cheek. Skin gave away under his gloved fingertip.

He recoiled. Air bubbled out of his mouth, precious and wasted. The noise of bursting bubbles rattled him, pulled him back enough to let him recall the lock picks inside his mouth.

Kaz clamped his legs against the side of the coffin, stuck his feet deep into mud, so he wouldn’t drift away. He rolled off his gloves. Let the dead have them. If Inej died tonight the dead could have him too, Kaz Rietveld, Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the Bastard of the Barrel. None of them wanted to get up for air and live if it meant leaving her behind.

He almost lost his grip on his lock picks when he finally jammed them into the keyhole.

The rest was easy. The rest was hard.

#

He came through with Inej’s pounding fists against his sternum and a whispered mantra of: “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, Kaz.”

Her cold wet fingers clamped his nose and chin. Her lips pressed against his opened mouth, cold and dead. Breathing for him.

A gust of body-temperature sea water burst from his mouth. He coughed and convulsed, scrambled away from her, feet unable to find purchase on the wet ground. His body spasmed. He puked up seawater and what little he had in his stomach. A gurgle was heard, before he could speak again: “Get away from me,” his voice was a croak.

She heard him. Without making a sound she got up. Kaz could feel the shift of air without having to look. He wouldn’t have seen her anyway. The jetty was dark, moon temporarily hidden behind clouds and the edges of his awareness twinned in night, in panic.

The roar inside his ears got louder. He pulled his hands to his head. Gasped and let them fall away when his own clammy fingers made contact with his skin.

“Jordie,” he couldn’t hear his own voice, only felt how his tongue formed the words against his teeth, “Leave me alone.”

For a while, Kaz’s world narrowed down to retching and trembling. His body knew what it had to do to starve off the cold, to prevent secondary drowning by expelling every last drop of seawater that had gotten into his lungs. Keep breathing. His mind on the other hand was back on the Reaper’s Barge. Floating, floating, sinking, drowning before he could ever reach Ketterdam.

Inej slapped him. Back of her hand against his cheekbone.

“Kaz, we need to get out of here.”

Had she called his name before?

It was hard to focus on her face. Her hair was plastered against her skin, like that of a corpse. He stared at her moving mouth without understanding another word. He tried to silence his heartbeat, the voice of his brother in his mind, and the high roar of panic. He was crashing, about to scrape the barrel of his adrenalin high. The analytical part of his brain was preparing for this by evening out his breathing and pulling his shoulders up.

He was a survivor.

“-catch an early death if we stay in our wet clothes. Can you get up?”

Inej held out his cane. It took him two tries to rise. His body was weak, felt far out of reach, like he was looking at himself from above. She didn’t try to help him up. Kaz didn’t know what he’d do to her if she were to touch him now.

The water that was dripping down from her body was the only sound Inej made as she kept pace with his stiff gait. It was like walking next to another harbor ghost.

“Sit down,” she said once they reached a dark alley.

He didn’t react. If he sat, he didn’t know if he’d be able to get up again without her help.

“I’ll be right back.”

Dirtyhands was still vacating the premises, and without him he was missing his resolve, but Kaz Brekker was coming back to himself in increments. The one that relied on her to do what was necessary when he could not. How easily he trusted her to get them out of here. Weak men let others do the thinking for them. Kaz found he was too exhausted to care.

He couldn’t tell how long he waited, ten minutes, an hour, half a lifetime. Jordie’s ghost felt close. If Kaz turned around he’d see him lean next to his shoulder against the cold alley wall.

Inej jumped down from the roof to his right. Always graceful, always strong. She came up and held out a bundle in front of him. So he took it. He produced the mask and cloak of the Gray Imp of the Komedie Brute.

“Put it on,” Inej said, and he followed suit.

“We’re close enough to the Lid to be recognized,” she explained as she pulled on her own mask. He glimpsed the deep frown between her brows before she pulled down the veil of the Lost Bride over her eyes. Kaz tried to take in their whereabouts, but the gray roofs and stones seemed interchangeable to every city he’d ever visited. Confronted with his own carelessness a remote unease trickled down his spine. Ketterdam was his home, his harbor, and his domain. Tonight, it had reverted back to nothing but his brother’s wet grave.

“We need to move.”

The walk into the nearest suitable East Stave tavern was a blur. Inej chose a den they wouldn’t normally frequent. Dingy and dirty but dingy and dirty enough to get them a room without being asked any questions about why two trembling tourists were dripping canal water onto the floor.

Inej told him to unmask. Told him to sit close to the fireplace, so he sat. He pushed off the blanket she put around his shoulders, couldn’t bear the weight and friction against his soaked back. Inej lit a fire, before she started walking around behind him.

Kaz concentrated on not-shivering, breathing, on not-drowning. The waves went higher, and he was tired to the bone. Let him lay among the stones and shipwrecks.

“You should get undressed. Your lips have turned blue.”

He jerked. When had he closed his eyes? Inej had pulled a blanket tight around her body like a towel. Her arms and shoulders were bare. The straps of her underthings could be seen. The rest of her clothes had been hung up behind them in the shoddy bathroom.

“Talk to me.”

“I want her dead. I’ll find out who she is, and I’ll kill everyone she ever cared about right in front of her eyes. I’ll make her believe she alone caused their demise. I’d feed her poison that summons their ghosts. I want to put her in a coffin and set her against the tides so her body can shipwreck against stones while she hallucinates hellscapes of her own mind’s invention.”

He was still shivering. He wanted to crawl into the fire, sleep among the coals. Maybe then he’d feel warm again. His wet clothes were glued to his body. If he stayed still enough his own limbs didn’t feel like that of a drowned man.

“I get that, and you will, but right now you need to get undressed, or you’ll die of lung fever before we can have our revenge.”

“Our revenge?”

“She got my saints.”

They shared a look and Kaz found his own hatred mirrored in her gaze. It frightened him to see so much of himself in her, it excited him too.

“We’ll get them back.”

“She hurt you.”

The Kaz of two hours ago would’ve denied any weakness, especially in front of her, he needed to appear infallible. He stared at his bare hands instead and let out a noncommittal hum.

“Your clothes,” Inej repeated, and when he didn’t move continued with: “I won’t look. You have your own blanket. It’s safe.”

“Nowhere in this Saint-forsaken city is safe,” Kaz said, surprised by his own vitriol.

Inej walked into the bathroom, shut the door behind her, and he was too tired to feel glad to be free of her gaze.

He knew she was right. Autumn had come early this year, with icy winds and dark gray skies. Peeling away his waistcoat, shirt, and undershirt was like peeling away the last layer of protection. Kaz avoided touching his own skin where he could and schooled his face into a blank façade.

Hobbling around to hang his clothes over furniture and in front of the fireplace helped bring back his circulation. It was routine. Didn’t require much thought. Only clad in his undergarments, he huddled into the ruddy blanket he had dismissed before. Stretched out his bad leg when he sat back down by the fire.

It took him a moment to realize that the prickle on his cheeks wasn’t drying seawater. It felt too hot for that even as he stared directly into the fireplace. He touched his fingertips against his face, shivered, let out a wet rattle of a breath. Tears.

When was the last time Dirtyhands had cried? And what for? His dead brother, his inability to function as a normal human being?

Inej came back into the room as Kaz wiped at his face with the corner of his blanket. She hovered a moment behind him before she sat down next to him on the floor in a heap.

“I didn’t think I’d get to you in time,” he confessed.

“I’m here.”

“I couldn’t see anything. There were-” but he couldn’t continue. There were hundreds of corpses pulling me under. His madness couldn’t be put into words. It was his and his alone.

“You found me, Kaz. The heart’s an arrow. Yours aimed and landed true.” Her dark eyes glinted like pools of tar against the fire. She was beautiful. Her hair in a tangle of seaweed. Bags under her eyes. With or without her silver saints she was radiant.

Sankta Inej, he thought, you’ve never been further away from me than in this room.

He hardened his heart. There had been a distance between him and the rest of the world since the day Jordie died. Tonight, the distance had grown larger.

“You’re back now. You’re okay,” she sounded scared. No that wasn’t right. She sounded afraid for him. How much of what Inej had said to him since she pulled him ashore had he missed? How many times had she called his name and not gotten a response?

Kaz’s jaw worked, ready to take aim and throw words at her like weapons. Damn her. She’d saved his life and unlike some mercher he’d repay his debts.

“I thought you had run out of air when I reached you. But I was wrong about that. I felt your body go limp when I touched you to pull you up.”

He had fainted, he realized, just like in that prisoner wagon that had taken them out to the Ice Court.  

“I’ve never seen you look at me like that when you came through. Like you didn’t recognize me at all.”

“It’s not you, Inej,” he could feel himself blush, with shame, with anger. He didn’t know.

“I understand that,” she replied indignantly. Kaz didn’t discriminate in matters of physical intimacy. A stranger’s touch made him reel and flinch as much as a friend’s when it came without a warning.

Last autumn when she’d come back to him for the first time, with new laugh lines around her eyes and smelling like the open sea, they had tried. There had been some progress, though Kaz wasn’t inclined to call it that. On some mornings he’d come down the stairs of the Van Eck residence without gloves on to have breakfast with her, Jesper, and Wylan. Other times he’d discard them sitting at his desk to write in his ledgers, while Inej sat on his windowsill. Her patience with him had seemed infinite. He’d held her hand a few times without retching. Managed to curl his body around hers for a couple of short instances without making her disappear.

Right before she had gone back to hunt slavers for the season, he’d cupped her face in his hands and wished he were a different man, whose mind and body didn’t need walls to protect itself. Brick by brick, he had thought as he had pressed his lips against hers for an instance. Brick by brick, he had repeated to himself as he had watched her ship disappear, he would tear it all down for her.

Now he only tasted dirty harbor water on his tongue. Only smelled rot and mildew as their clothes dried.

“Will you be alright?”

He didn’t answer. Inej let out a small sigh. Not even knocking on Death’s door could stop her exasperation with him. On another day it would’ve made him smile.

“If you were Jesper I’d hug you. If you were Nina, I’d go downstairs and get us something hot to eat. But you’re Kaz Brekker and I don’t know what you need if you never tell me.”

“I don’t need anything from you, Inej,” he lied.

Inej leaned her back against the leg of his chair. Her side brushed up against his throbbing knee. Blanket against blanket. It was all he could do not to jump out of his seat.

“You said you needed me. You want me to stay in Ketterdam for the winter, with you,” she made it sound so factual, like another strategic secret she’d uncovered and was delaying to him, “Has that changed?”

“No, never.”

She turned around to face him.

“Then let me help you for once. I’ve never seen you like this.”

Kaz hung his head, flexed his jaw. Harden your heart. But he couldn’t. He was weak and exhausted and the weight of years he had shouldered alone was pressing down on him, heavier than ever before.

“I don’t know how,” he confessed, feeling like a boy, sounding like a drowning man gasping for air.

“That’s okay. That’s what you have people who care about you for. It’s our job to figure out how to help you, not yours.”

He had never thought of it that way. Friendship was an exchange of favors. All his friends worked for him, after all. Inej made it sound like she and the Crows would dole them out for free unasked. He had never considered that they would. Inej always found new ways to surprise him.

“So will you let me help you?”

“The deal is the deal,” he murmured.

She didn’t shake hands with him. He wouldn’t have been able to, but she pushed against his leg with her back almost imperceptibly.

“The deal is the deal,” she agreed.

[sonicasura]

Some ideas for possible new friends Wukong makes in the One Piece World

A Giant Catfishman that Wukong managed to save from a Slave ship, and they started to travel together the Fishman is name Mee Kong, a pun off the Mekong giant catfish.

A Giant that Wukong that met while he was checking out some of the islands, the Giant wants to be a farmer but he keeps on being attacked by Slaver ships but he always beats them back with his hoe.

Once while traveling on his cloud Wukong stumbled upon Zunesha and accidentally picked up three Minks who wanted to learn under him. Also giving the Minks a heart attack when he offhandly says Zunesha isn't the biggest thing he's seen.

I totally see this happening. Mee Kong gonna witness quite the amount of wonders during their travels with Sun Wukong. The Monkey King would have fun with the Minks cause he's got so many mindblowing stories to tell. I can see Sun Wukong helping his farmer friend often.

Even giving them a few hairs just in case as he rather not take any chances. A Sun Wukong clone would be enough to turn the tide if things go south.

[dujour13]

Secret Santa gift for my friend @offsidekineticist. Happy Holidays! 💕☃️💕

I hope you know I had to enlist the aid of both Ophenia and Woljif to piece this story together. Oh, that reminds me—(Siavash digs in his vest pocket and produces one silver bracelet, twelve gold pieces and a Chelish noble house signet ring)—with Woljif’s apologies. No questions asked about the ring.

I hope I got the main story beats right enough for art.

The half-orc druid I eventually tracked down in the Aspodell mountains told me Qweck was involved, but even my utmost attempts at diplomacy couldn’t prevent Qweck from slamming the door in my face, so I’m not sure where she fits into the story. There was also apparently a dinosaur? Or a golem made of dinosaurs? Anyway, here it is, as promised.

(He takes a sip of mulled Andoren wine and gives you a wink as he begins.)

🎶 The Ballad of Bellflower Hellfire 🎶

The Devil went down to Cheliax, she was lookin’ for a soul to steal She was biding her time at the scene of the crime In a gem that was magically sealed When Gil came across that necklace, offering vengeance and serving it hot And the devil grabbed hold of his heart in her claws And said boy lemme tell you what I guess you’ll do ‘bout anything to give them slavers their due And if you vow to serve me now I’ll lend a hand to you Now you’d make a damn fine Bellflower, boy All I ask is a soul or two I’ll bet the slaves you’ll free are worth that fee And it was true for all he knew And so the halfling set about with the fury of Hell in his hands Without a regret started paying his debts Freed his folk from their iron bands (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Twas a rainy night in Brastlewark and Thay sat with his book And he heard the sound of rustlin’ around and went to have a look There stood Gil ‘bout to catch a chill And Thay in his distress, said come on down, you look half drowned And bundled Gil up good And thus began the heart-bond ‘tween the halfling and the gnome In the shadow of Thrune their sweet love bloomed, over cocoa snug at home (There’s a break with romantic picking, then a shift to an ominous chord) Til one dark day the news reached Gil that made his heart stop cold The iron glove of Hell came down and crushed all Gilly’s hope The Hellknights came, they were taking names, Mister Theo was their prey Gil shed tears of grief and rage - the Rack had taken Thay And Gil like Hell’s own vengeance on the wings of dragon black Rained down on Rivad fury and fire and laid to waste the Rack The only reclamation that was glorious that day Was Gil who stormed the citadel and rescued poor dear Thay (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul Thay in gloom of dungeon hoped for nought but Ph’rasma’s grace He held his ground, made not a sound as tears fell down his face The Rack had wrought their cruel work and yet his lips were sealed All he cared to pray for was an end to his ordeal When a signifier’s shattered mask was tossed between the bars And Theo raised his eyes and hope rekindled in his heart A little short for a Hellknight, Theo said through tears of joy Though they were trapped within the citadel the righteous would destroy In a desperate race for freedom the heroes stumbled toward the gates Paladins and Hellknights laid the citadel to waste As knights closed round Gil stood his ground o’er Theo’s tortured form As in his breast the fires of Hell let loose in violent storm (from this crescendo the tempo slows, becomes soulful) When Theo felt the heat of Hell and raised his heavy head And saw that Gil had rescued him but damned himself instead With failing limbs he lifted up and braved the flames of Dis To wrestle Gil from the Devil’s grasp and free him… with True Love’s Kiss (Chorus) Gilly sharpen up your wits and fight that devil hard Cause Hell’s broke loose in Cheliax and the devil deals the cards And if you win you get the peace and freedom that you’re owed But if you lose the devil gets your soul

---

Note: Modeled after “The Devil Went Down to Georgia” by the Charlie Daniels Band

[calder]

Somewhere in America, a plain, able-bodied man of average build was selected for entry to the local Vault by the Societal Preservation Program. His name and history are lost to time. Shortly before the bombs fell, this chosen test subject heeded the instructions of Vault-Tec, and was able to reach Vault 77 safely.

At the end of the world, the unremarkable man approached the gaping maw of his new home, but nobody came to greet him. He called out, and, hearing no response, searched for signs of his new neighbors. In the second hour, he beat his fists against the indifferent Vault door in a display of despair, crying out for it to reopen. "You forgot all the other fucking people!!" he screamed in futility. As the bombs fell, his pleas filled the vacuous bunker, resonating weakly throughout its chambers, never to be answered.

Some time thereafter, the lonely man awoke to cries of regicide. The King had been found murdered in a grisly fashion, his head torn from his body. The dweller of Vault 77 called out to the merciful Lord, and the merciful Lord did not answer.[1] Losing his composure, he roiled in the throes of manic paranoia for some time.[1][3] The man could not imagine that Granny or Reverend Hound were capable of such a brutal act, leaving the Boy as the only possible culprit.[1] Soon thereafter, the dweller privately confronted the Boy.[1] Vault Boy not only confessed to the murder, but accused the man of being his accomplice. The dweller knew it would not be long before the sheriff-reverend would come for them both, and resolved to flee.[1] He made preparations to abandon the Vault, with no choice but to work together with the ruthless Machiavellian murderer who had decapitated his master.[1] The man was eventually successful in leaving the Vault. Having failed to protect the King, he wandered the roads as an unassuming rōnin for some time, developing his abilities.[1] The unforgiving wasteland offered no wild horses to break, so he forged a bond with a giant ant named Mr. Pinch, and rode around on it.  Along his travels, he broke bread with a mysterious one-armed ghoul draped in the tatters of a Vault suit with no identifiable number.[1]

A friend to the meek folk, the ghouls, and the gentle beasts of the wasteland, he alone rose up against the tyrants of the region, and he alone reduced their works to bone and ash.[1] With Vault Boy as his right hand lieutenant, he stood in judgment of the wicked people of the New World.[1] Two hundred years later, guilty men speak in hushed tones of a mythical hunter of slavers, and the sight of his number fills their ilk with anxiety and superstition.[2] His legend haunts their oral traditions, as they dread ever more the merciless return of the stranger with no name.[2]

The location and living status of the dweller of Vault 77 are currently unknown.

[rvllybllply2014]

Aw thank you! <3

Oh true! If spilling blood in front of the crown princess is apparently okay, then who is anyone there to argue against it? Poor lord Bracken though, seeing him crying over his son's death was hard :'(

Oh good point about how insane Bloodraven was! Along with his ruthlessness & cruelty.. I totally agree on anger, pride, and instability being a trait of the house. While the Brackens seem to favor a quiet kind of strength, not the kind to go looking for a fight but not backing down either when dragged into one, holding their ground instead.

Knowing Willem resented Raylon from his birth, I have to wonder if the reason he didn't lash out at young Raylon is because he sees something of young Amos in him.. Maybe he'd be the one to start the mocking rumor that he's a Blackwood bastard? Just to be petty?

Oof poor Amos, even if he always knew it deep down..having the truth smack him in the face, along with the knowledge Willem killed his brother.. It wasn't just Willem's heart that broke that night I'm sure. It must have been so painful for him too!

Poor doomed Aeron & Davos ;A; Can you imagine if to keep Aeron safe and to learn just how much like Willem Davos is, Amos would just straight up kidnap him and bring him to Stone Hedge? I mean he'd know better, but maybe he could attempt to convince Davos that he doesn't have to be Willem..  

Oh poor Raylon! I feel awful for him, but is it weird to feel a little relieved that a beating & sleeping outside is the worst he'd be put through? That he'd remind Willem of a younger Amos put him in more danger in my head, of a guard getting permission from Willem to get handsy in other ways..dosn't help that Raylon is cute too.. And Amos being forced to listen to his son's screams, unable to do anything to help him! I imagine he's never hated Willem more than in this moment!

And Amos chained to Willem's bed?! Forced into begging for Willem's touch after being grudgingly pushed to his limit by touches his body still remembers after so long! I wonder how much he'd be forced into begging, and how much would be him just wanting Willem to be done with it, hoping he'd grow bord after satisfying his lust.. Ooh now the real question is how would Willem treat Amos in bed? Honestly I could see him being rough (treating it like half a punishment/half a reward) and leaving marks all over Amos, as proof that he belongs to him fully! Also how many times Willem takes his pleasure, I doubt it only happens once in Raventree Hall, likely happens in their tent too! (i absolutely adore this idea btw, i'd love to read it as a fic! :D )

Amos having been the light of Willem's life..there's something so bittersweet about that :< I wonder how much of Willem's darkness Amos could have tampered if he'd never found out about his brother. I fully agree about Amos's upbringing too, that it'd get harsher after his brother's death is a nice touch! And him allowing Aeron (and likely raylong too!) to embrace his softer side while teaching him to be string still so incredibly sweet ;w; Also with how the Bracken's we've seen keep their tempers in check pretty well…imagine before they brake up, every once in a while Willem would push Amos to the point of snapping and pinning him against a tree or the ground and Willem just love it? Seeing the mix of fury & excitement in Amos's eyes? Then he could try to flip them over and crush their lips together..leading to a little passion between them ;3

Aw please don't apologize! I adore hearing your thoughts, and the Blackwoods & Brackens are often on my mind too!  I've already plenty ideas in mind just for Willem/Amos >w> One being teen Willem & Amos fighting over the boundary stones, only to both be attacked & captured by Ironborn raiders and shipped to Essos to be sold as slaves. They'd end up escaping in Slaver's Bay (after being marked) and having to depend on each other as they attempt the long trip back home, even better if they run into the Dothraki, just so Amos can bring home a Dothraki horse of his own! x3

Thoughts are under the cut. Non con.

Yes poor lord Bracken all he can do is sit there and hold Jerrell while he’s dying. Even if he wants to kill Willem right then and there he can’t, his house needs him, Amos is too young to be the lord without regents. And if he thinks Willem is insane then he just knows how much more insane his father is.

If Targaryens can have madness inherited (yes it’s the incest) who says that other houses can’t have some traits inherited. Especially between houses Blackwood and Bracken, why else would they still feud with each other centuries after house Blackwood got kicked out of the north and forced to settle in the riverlands. Plus there was only one point in history that they got along and that produced the founder of house Justman who ruled over both houses for 300 years. There’s probably something embedded into each houses dna that makes them just automatically hate the other house.

I think the quiet strength that house Bracken exhibits is because they are know for breeding horses. You don’t want to come off angry at a horse, it seems like a good way to kicked by an agitated horse. So they have to keep their anger under control, they learn to turn that anger into sternness.

Amos’s father probably told him that Jarrell was killed by a son of lord Blackwood, he probably didn’t know Willems name at the time. All he knows is that it wasn’t Samwell Blackwood. So Amos feels safeish in keeping his friendship with Samwell going. Eventually Samwell is the one to introduce Willem and Amos, and then pushes them to start dating because he can see how much they like each other.

Willem and Amos were just having a petty fight about if they could risk going to a whore house together and getting a private room along with paying for a whore only to kick her out before they fucked. Amos thinks it’s too risky too many people could see them enter the room and then the whore immediately leaving the room. Willem insists that it would be fine nobody pays enough attention to other patrons in whore houses, and if they did well the answer is simple the whore didn’t want to listen to them argue about who was going to fuck her first. So she told them to come find her when it was settled. It just continues to escalate from there until finally Willem says it was easy enough to kill Jarrell in the heat of the moment but it wouldn’t be easy to kill Amos, because he loves him damn it why can’t he see that. It’s also the first time Amos draws his sword against Willem with pure anger and hatred flashing in his eyes.

That was also the first and only time either one had told the other one that he loved him. Amos has Willem repeat the name of the Bracken that Willem killed, because he surely hadn’t heard the right name. But he had so he tells Willem it’s best if they part ways before one of them ends up dead by the other’s hand. Both their hearts shattered that night along with their dreams of having their kids unite their houses.

If Amos did kidnap Davos he’d tell him it’s for his own good, that he can still learn to embrace the softer side of himself. It’s the least Davos can do for Aeron. Unfortunately it doesn’t work, Davos escapes after seriously hurting some of Aerons friends. Amos doesn’t tell Aeron that he told him so, he just holds him and tells him that whatever he’s feeling is valid.

That’s also how Willem finds out that Raylon is the spitting image of a young Amos. Davos had gotten a glimpse of him when he was leaving Stone Hedge. Of course it hurts Willem to know that, it meant Amos had truly moved on, while Willem hadn’t. Willem couldn’t bear the thought of bedding someone who wasn’t Amos. Davos is Samwells legitimized bastard, aka Benjicot older half brother, Benjicot is still heir to house Blackwood, it’s just Willem and Davos are his regents. So yeah in a moment of hurt pride, a broken heart and just pure pettiness Willem starts the rumor of Raylon being a bastard who isn’t Amos’s btw, and Amos being forced into pretending that Raylon is his true born son.

Willem definitely will reward the guards who are told to watch Raylon. Raylons a bastard after all, after lying about Raylon being a bastard for so long Willem starts to believe it himself. So Willem doesn’t care if they beat Raylon or force him to do sexual acts, or even rape him. It truly doesn’t bother him, if Amos asks about his son he just tells him that Raylon is being treated fairly enough as someone of his status would be treated.

Willem convinces himself that even though Amos is crying every time he comes to bed it’s because of pleasure. Amos is really crying because the touches remind him of his Willem the one that he loved as a young man, the Willem touching him now is cruel. So it’s definitely a punishment to Amos, but a pleasurable reward to Willem. It’s an every night occurrence that Willem takes Amos, it’s also when they have to leave Raven Tree hall that Willem really starts to leave visible marks on Amos. Before it was mainly on Amos’s thighs, lower stomach, inner groin and butt that would be marked freshly every night. But now that they have to report to Harrenhal Willem makes sure that the marks can be seen on Amos’s neck, hands and face he will not tolerate anyone else looking at Amos and thinking that they have a chance with him. And Willem also makes sure that Amos is screaming his name every night in the tent, he wants the whole camp to know that Amos is wholly owned by him.

Willem constantly reminds Amos on the road that he’s only this way because Amos left him. If Amos had stayed maybe 10% of his light could’ve pushed 10% of Willems darkness away. He tells him maybe if Amos had said he loved him back they could’ve ran away to somewhere in Essos and Willem would’ve learned how to control his darker feeling with Amos’s help.

Yeah if teen Amos and Willem get captured and sold as slaves, they fight so hard to make sure the other leaves with him. If they’re branded their house will see how they are truly warriors, or if they’re sold to the Dothraki they’ll keep the slave collars as proof of what they went through, they’ll also steal some so they can buy passage on a ship back to Westeros. Amos definitely steals a Dothraki horse, just the one though, and makes Willem hold onto him the whole time. Shipwrights try to buy the horse off Amos, but he refuses he needs the horse to prove to his father that he really was sold into slavery. He’d already decided to let Willem keep the collars as proof. Plus he knows how valuable a Dothraki horse is, especially to his house.

[ravensliterature]

Mission Failed Successfully?

A/N: Hehe I posted again

pairing: Obi-Wan Kenobi x Reader

warnings: Violence, description of wound

w/c: 2743

Prompt: You and Obi-Wan go on a mission but things don’t really go according to plan. Will you make it out in one piece? 

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

You did not want to go on this mission with Obi-Wan. It wasn't that you didn't like him, you actually did a lot. It could even be said that you liked your fellow Jedi too much to the point of concern. You had no idea if he felt the same way and you never were going to ask. You knew it was wrong and were content with his company. 

The mission was supposed to be simple enough. There were slavers Tatooine who were raiding villages and taking the villagers as slaves and captives. They were also apparently forced senstive according to some reports. Your job was to stop their activities and free the captives. 

Currently, you were on your ship sailing to Tatooine. The ship was on autopilot as you and Obi-Wan talked in the cockpit. 

"So what are you thinking about Y/N?" Obi asked, breaking the silence.

"Oh um nothing really," you replied awkwardly. Your face heating up. Damn Obi for being perceptive.

Obi looked at you skeptically and raised his eyebrows. "I think I know better."

Your cheeks grew hotter and you couldn't say anything else before Obi turned to look ahead again. Your hands clenched around your knees and your lips pursed together in annoyance and embarrassment. Obi would find out anyway since it was impossible to hide something from Obi. You hated when he did this. He would always figure out everything so it's better not to bother trying to keep secrets.

"You've been spacing out a lot lately, are you nervous about the mission?" He questioned. His eyes were still forward on the ship.

"No," you lied. Well, you weren't sure exactly what to say. Maybe you should tell him the truth? No that wouldn't make sense either, why lie now? You sighed defeatedly. "Fine fine," you groaned, looking down in defeat. "I guess my heart is beating really fast because of anxiety or something." That sounded believable enough to Obi.

"Do you have any problems you need help with, Y/N?" He asked, still not turning to look at you. You shook your head.

"No, but can we talk about something else?" You asked, your voice soft and barely above a whisper.

He glanced at you before returning his attention forward to the stars. "Sure, just don't feel pressured to speak about anything, Y/N." He assured. Your mouth slightly parted before you snapped it shut again. "What do you want to talk about?" He continued. He wanted to change the topic so he could get to know you more. 

"Uh well," you started. "Have you ever seen a holofilm called Love Actually?" You asked.

Obi laughed a little before replying. "Actually yes I have." This caused you to turn to look at him in surprise.

A few weeks ago during one of the missions, there was an incident in a cantina on Tatooine where a gang was fighting over the women in the bar. The weird thing is that he would not stop talking about an old holofilm called Love Actually. You an Obi-Wan after that mission vowed that you both needed to watch this film. 

"What did you think?"

" You asked. Obi shrugged before answering you.

"It's pretty good," he answered honestly.

"Really?" You exclaimed in disbelief. "I never pegged you as a Jedi interested in romance films!" 

"They're just a genre.  Besides, I'm quite fond of them." He explained while grinning. His smile seemed contagious and you found yourself smiling too. "There is something about them... They just make you wonder..." 

 He trailed off before shaking his head, dismissing his musings and wants. 

"Wonder what?" You pressed curiously.

"Nothing important, Y/N." He answered shortly.

"You're such a bad liar." You retorted playfully. Obi chuckled softly under his breath, a small smirk making its way onto his lips.

"You always can tell."  He stated before returning back to gazing at the stars. The silence lingered between the two of you and neither of you dared to break it. Eventually, Obi broke the silence by saying, "So you haven't watched it yet have you?"

You chuckled. "Not yet," you confessed. "But now I have to with your glowing review!" You joked. Obi glared playfully at you but eventually gave in a smile, laughing along with you. "Well if you're really that curious, we should watch it together sometime." You said matter of factly.

"Okay," Obi answered without hesitation.

You both joked and laughed discussing various movies that you decided you need to watch together. You ended up telling him all about your favorite movies and how you thought they were better than others. In exchange, he told you all about movies like Titanic which he enjoyed greatly. As usual, your conversation quickly drifted away from the film and towards each other.

"Can I ask you something?" You questioned hesitantly. You had a feeling that you'll regret asking, but this was Obi so you probably had to continue anyways.

"Hmm?" Obi hummed inquisitively, glancing up at you.

"Do you ever wonder about what life would be like if you weren't a Jedi? " You questioned quietly.

Obi looked surprised.

"Like what would your job be? Where would you live? Who would you be with?"

" You asked, knowing full well the answer. But you felt like you needed to hear him say it anyways.

"Y/N…"

Your breath caught in your throat when Obi looked at you, his eyes searching for something you did not know.  You waited patiently, hoping for a response.

"…I would have been very happy with someone like you." He answered quietly. It seemed like he was struggling to say it.

"Someone like me?" You repeated, your heart skipping a beat. Did you read him wrong?

"Yes. Someone… special."

His eyes searched yours for a sign of uncertainty or doubt. Finding none, he continued speaking. "For years you inspired me to do more as a Jedi. You helped to give me purpose." His words warmed your heart. Even though you knew he meant well, you still didn't feel like he fully realized the extent of his feelings toward you. "You showed me how wonderful living could be." He added before leaning in closer to you.

You closed your eyes and held your breath, unsure whether or not you should respond.

"But... We are Jedi." You were finally forced out.

You opened your eyes and saw Obi staring right at you, waiting for you to continue.

"We fight evil, we save people. We are nothing more than a soldier." You concluded. A tear slipped down your cheek as a single word echoed in your mind.

Silence loomed once again in the cockpit until you saw Tatooine in your sight.  

"This is it," you mumbled to yourself. 

--- 

You and Obi-Wan were on the perimeter of the town, seeing where your best advantage is. The slavers had all their captives huddle together guns pointing to their heads. They were also force sensitive so that was nice for you both. You had to be extra cautious. 

Obi took out his lightsaber, holding it against his palm as he approached a group of the men with his head tilted slightly upward. You followed behind closely, staying in the shadows and ready to attack when necessary.

Apparently, Obi-Wan was not as stealthy because when they saw him they immediately started firing. Obi ducked out of the way to avoid being hit by the bullets. He grabbed the captive closest to him, pulling them out of harm's way with him to safety. You went to attack the next target but Obi shot you a look, signaling you to stay put.

You stood where you were but didn't move. You watched as Obi ran up to another group of the slavers and fought them with ease. His movements looked natural. You wondered what kind of training he received to be this graceful.

As you observed the battle going on, you heard a loud scream coming from one of the captives, causing you to snap out of your observation.

You jumped forward, using your force push to jump over the bodies of the fallen slavers who tried to shoot you. Once you landed on the ground you scanned the area, desperately looking for the victim you came here for.

 When you saw her lying unconscious on the ground you instantly rushed over to her side. She was clearly injured judging by the large bleeding gash across her forehead and the dried blood caked across her face. You checked her pulse and breathing, relieved to find that they were both stable although weak. 

You crouched beside her body as you reached into your belt pocket for some bandages and disinfectant. You used the disinfectant on the wound first and then proceeded to wrap some medical tape around her arms to protect them from further damage. She should be fine for now. 

You quickly looked around to survey the area and saw that there were about five slavers left and that they were surrounding Obi-Wan.

 You gritted your teeth and pulled out your lightsaber, trying to save Obi-Wan from the remaining slavers.  You charged at one and slashed him across his abdomen, earning you a cry of pain from the man. When he fell to the ground, the rest of the men started shooting at you.

You dodged every bullet that flew by and slashed and cut at whoever was nearest to you.

That was until you felt a main in your abdomen. With a yell of pain, you fell to the ground with your saber clutched in your hand. Before anyone else got close to you, you ignited your blade and cut through the attacker. 

Obi-Wan rushed to your side and tried to support you but your feet were beginning to fail to keep you up.  You grunted loudly as you tried to stand upright once again. Your breathing was heavy, and beads of sweat began forming on your brow.

"Y/N..." Obi whispered worriedly. You smiled at your friend despite your current condition.

"Don't worry; I've fine." You reassured him. 

"Well, you don't look fine," Obi stated while examining your injury. He glanced at one of his fallen enemies and kicked him harshly in the stomach. After kicking him once again for good measure, he turned his attention back to you. "Let's get you back to the ship. Can you stay conscious for me?"

You nodded. He picked you up bridal style with little effort and carried you towards the ship. He sat down on one of the medical tables in the small medical room. You winced slightly when Obi touched the gash on your abdomen, causing you to wince even more. The laser caused the wound to cauterize but it was deep. Very deep. 

"I'm calling for the medic bot, okay?" He said while caressing your cheek gently with his thumb. Your gaze flickered over to him, a gentle smile tugging at the corner of your lips.

"Yeah." You breathed. He placed a tender kiss on your forehead.

"You remember the movie Love Actually?" You asked but your voice was rough. 

He chuckled lightly as he recalled the holofilm. "Of course I do."

You grinned, your eyes crinkling at the edges, and his heart melted at that moment.

"Promise me that we will watch it. If not now, somewhere else."  You requested. He smiled softly.

"If that is your wish then I'll grant it." He hated saying stuff like that. You were going to be fine.  You couldn't die. He wouldn't let you. There was no way. Not after everything that happened.

Your eyelids began to start to feel heavy.  You leaned against him with a sigh of relief. You wanted to tell him that you loved him. That you always will love him. To tell him that you loved him. But you weren't sure if you were strong enough to make that statement yet. Right now you just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, you gotta keep those eyes open for me, Y/N,"   Obi spoke softly, a sad smile plastered onto his face. Your heart swelled at his words as he brushed his thumbs over your cheeks comfortingly.  "Please."

The last thing you remembered before you passed out was the sound of Obi's soft voice telling you to hold on.

--- 

It was definitely too bright. You groaned loudly when you awoke to the blinding light above you. Everything hurt. Your whole body ached. And even more, your abdomen hurt. The only thought that came to mind was that the last thing you remembered was getting shot and then passing out. You opened your eyes slowly and blinked a few times. The brightness of the lights made you grimace and squeeze your eyes shut again.

Suddenly you heard voices, muffled and unfamiliar. Opening your eyes again, you squinted to see if the light would help but you still could barely see anything due to how blurry it was.

"How is she?" A familiar voice asked.

"She'll be fine, Obi-Wan. She just needs some rest." 

"Fine? She's been unconscious for three days!" 

"Again, she just needs rest. I'll check on her again to see if her vitals change but she will recover completely." 

The door could be heard opening with swift footsteps slowly becoming further and further away. You thought that they had both left until some of the footsteps appeared to be coming closer to you.

"Y/N?"

A warm touch rested on top of your hand. You blinked once to try and focus on your vision.  As soon as your eyes were able to focus, you saw two blue orbs staring back at you. 

"Obi." You choked out, reaching up to cup his face. You pulled him down to lean your foreheads against each other.

You closed your eyes, taking a shuddering breath. You missed his warmth.

"Are you alright?" His voice was laced with concern and his eyes searched yours intensely.

"I'm...fine...Just..." You trailed off, clearing your throat. You opened your mouth to speak again but paused, he was very close.  You closed your eyes again, leaning your forehead against his and enjoying his presence. You inhaled his intoxicating scent deeply, trying to memorize every detail.

You slowly lifted your head and gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you. For saving my life. I...wasn't sure that I was going make it..."

His expression softened at your words. "You're safe now."

You shook your head and sighed tiredly. "Obi-Wan, I was so scared... I need to tell you something..."

His eyebrows furrowed together in confusion. "Y/N, Tell me what?"

You began to glance at his lips. 

"Obi..." You trailed off before placing your fingers lightly on his jawline, closing the gap between you, and pressed your lips to his softly. 

You knew exactly what your decision meant. You were hoping that he would return your feelings.

However, Obi wasn't moving at all as he continued to stare at you. He had frozen completely in place as he watched your lips on his. This didn't mean that he didn't want this, he did. It was just that he was shocked. 

"Y/N, you do know what this means. We are Jedi. If we do this..."  He trailed off as he swallowed nervously.

You nodded slowly, knowing exactly where he was going with this.

"I want to. I want to live I life that I know when I die, I can say it was worth it."  You said, gazing intently into his eyes.

Obi gazed down at you, studying your beautiful features closely. He noticed that your pupils were dilated and your skin was glowing faintly with health and strength that he was scared wouldn't come back.

"If we get found out, we'll have to leave the order."  He stated firmly.  

"For you, it is a risk I am willing to take." You replied. His face lit up at your words and he leaned down to place a small kiss on your forehead.  You felt the tingle in your chest that accompanied the feeling.

"Then I shall follow your lead, Y/N.  Together we shall bring balance to the Force."

You leaned up to capture his lips again, savoring the taste of him. He reciprocated immediately as the kiss deepened.

Eventually, you broke apart, resting your hands on his shoulders as he cupped your face with his hands.

"What now?" You questioned.

"Now...let's go home."

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[ryttu3k]

Last time, we were in the depths of the Underdark, having just cleared the Arcane Tower. First, here are a couple of autistic wizards stimming with somatic components.

Onwards to Grymforge, then the last of the Risen Road!

Yeah that potion was nasty. Interesting note with the black veins around the eyes, similar to the Astral Tadpole effect!

Omeluum has unlocked: a headache. Pensive emoji. It's okay, friend, it was worth a try.

There wasn't an option to say, "No, it's alright, you need to keep your protection and we'll work out another way", but tbh this is still a pretty... Gale option anyway.

This was neat, hadn't passed this check before! Faerzress is what sussur trees naturally feed on! I figure Gale would be familiar with it, at least in theory.

Peace-Bringer for dealing with the duergar, Kin Spirit for dealing with Glut!

Into the darkness! I hc that Gale is at least passingly familiar with boats, he does live in the coastal part of Waterdeep.

I hope Stonemason Kith gets out. Dude just wants to study. And he gave us infernal iron!

I have a screencap limit so I won't post the caps, but I like this exchange between Karlach and Gale, immediately following: "Never was much for history class, but this place has me captivated." "It would have been quite something in its heyday. But even now, it has much to teach us." I just dig the idea of Gale helping encourage Karlach's nascent fascination for history! Maybe that's how he gets the idea to teach?

I hope the rothes get out safely too. Good moos. Helped out the two being abused, as well, and helped free Skickpit by poisoning the two slavers. Said a brief word for the murdered gnomes (it's okay, we left Astarion at camp), then went to deal with Nere.

Was this line in character? Perhaps not. Was it fun? Absolutely :D

Not my best battle XD;;

Interestingly, talking to Barcus switched to Shadowheart. Good thing, too, because she had the Baldurian tag and could get some extra info that Gale wouldn't have!

Poor Lae'zel looks pretty beaten up! Still, no glitching this time, we got Barcus at camp :)

Moon lantern: broken. Nere's head: in inventory, so no awkward hacking off XD Gale recognises the masks, too, with a successful Arcana check: "Interesting mask. I quite like the design. It belonged to a merregon. Infernal soldiers."

I hc he eventually gets with Zanner Toobin, who helps him get over his lingering feelings for Wulbren by being a partner who genuinely cares about him instead of being dismissive and entitled like Wulbren.

Anyway.

THE GIRLS ARE FIGHTIIIIING.

Astarion is just like, "Sunbeam :) Tressym :) ...Gnome :|"

Gale's comment on the Dark Justiciar crossbow: "This crossbow was exquisitely designed. No duergar crafted this... its dark grace is most definitely Sharran in origin." And his comments on the dining hall: "An eerily chilling scene, this. I suspect many were present at this blighted Nightfall feast." He has some interesting thoughts on Sharran stuff!

Pop back to Ebonlake to deliver Nere's head, get dubbed Life-Chanter as well as Peace-Bringer and Kin Spirit, and get a mushroom rave!

Back to Grymforge to give it a proper explore!

Shadowheart and Astarion should commiserate some time.

Some fun comments!

Astarion on one of the moving bridges: "Lovely. Held together by rust and hope."

Gale after fighting the merregons: "It's mask after mask in here. Merely merregons, however. Their commander might still be at large."

Gale at the lake with the elemental: "This lava lake boils like a good stew. Lovely."

Gale after activating the forge: "And so we descend into... more madness presumably."

Astarion, not having a good day: "Oh, there are mephits now too? Wonderful! Why not?"

Gale, particularly relieved after beating Grym: "It's done... It's dead... Good gods, never again!"

Back to camp, and helped the baby <3 Same, Karlach, same.

Shadowheart shares a memory, Gale shares an observation.

Back to the village to make Astarion a shiny new knife, then headed north! For some reason, the gnolls aggroed as soon as we got close, so couldn't do the persuasion thing for some extra Astarion approval, alas. Either way, we saved Rugan and got invited over to his place. Over to Waukeen's Rest!

Gale was still upstairs after rescuing the other dude, so the part of the PC will be played by Astarion here. Who got some extra stuff from being Baldurian, too!

Always thought this exchange was interesting. I wonder what, exactly, Ulder told her? As far as he believes, he disowned Wyll because Wyll had pacted with a devil (which... is true, he just doesn't know why, thanks to Mizora). What did he tell Florrick, then, for her both to be sympathetic towards Wyll and to understand that he'd be angry at Ulder? If Ulder had just explained it to her as, "I forced Wyll out because he was getting into infernal worship" or something, I can't actually see her being sympathetic towards Wyll when they do meet, seven years later, with Wyll visibly now a devil.

I don't know. Maybe she did her own research? Connected 'the Blade of Frontiers' with 'Wyll Ravengard' and realised that everything he had been doing was heroic, even if he was doing it with infernal warlock powers?

I adore her.

Met with the Zhentarim. Got our reward for saving Rugan. Went shopping. Killed everyone. Let Oskar go free. Looted everything not nailed down :D

A sweet comment from Astarion, clicking one of the spheres: "Not just a world to explore, but an entire cosmos..." There's almost this awe in his voice that I love. I think he genuinely would enjoy being an explorer - he's over two hundred years old, but all of that time has been in Baldur's Gate in absolute misery. There's so much still to see out there!

Baby <3

Finally dealt with the adamantine chest Karlach swiped. Animation on the amulet was a bit borked, but hey! Gigglestarion.

And finally, best achievement unlocked <3

[whumpflash]

cw: slavery, violence, adult language, emeto mention

previous ///// masterlist ///// next

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Judd did fall asleep before long.

Getting up in that state—head spinning, body wracked with nausea, and hands bound to boot—was next to impossible. So he stayed down. Let the blackness roll over him in the hopes that he'd wake with a clearer head.

But it wasn't dawn that brought him back to awareness, or even the chill that came with night. It was the feeling of a boot nudging his side. It was voices.

"Think he's alive. Guess this raid wasn't worthless after all."

"Fuck's he doing out here anyway?"

"Beats me. Pissed off the wrong guy by the looks of it."

Judd forced his eyes open. Two orange circles hovered over him, dully glowing against a black sky. Night vision goggles.

"Help me grab him and we'll get out of here," said the voice directly over him.

Grab him?

"Shit…" Judd croaked, trying to lift his head and immediately regretting it as he was hit with a fresh wave of dizziness.

"Damn, he's awake," said the other voice. Somewhere behind him. Male.

"He's not going anywhere," Goggles replied casually. As if to punctuate the statement, she kicked Judd in the stomach, driving the air from his lungs and compounding the overall shitty feeling.

He lifted himself as best as he could, and emptied his stomach right onto the woman's boots. 

It was mostly wine.

"Fuck!" she yelped, dancing away only to come back a second later with more kicks, short, sharp, and angry. Judd did his best to protect his stomach with his legs until the blows stopped.

"Is he fucking drunk?" her companion said, disgust in his voice.

"Who cares? Grab him. This better be worth it."

"It'll wash off, Rika."

"I don't give a shit!" She knelt, grabbed Judd's chin between two fingers, and forced him to look up.

"Do that again and you'll really be sorry."

"Didn't fucking try to, but you're making me wish I had," he cut back, and she shoved him away.

"Got a mouth on him too. We'll have to train that outta you."

It wasn't until she said it that everything clicked. The pair weren't fellow scavs, here to rob him blind and leave him. They were slavers.

He muttered a curse under his breath, but Rika ignored him, grabbing onto his forearm and hauling him roughly to his feet.

Judd swayed, struggling to not be sick again as he stared into the darkness, willing his eyes to adjust. Far in the distance he could see the muted glow of the camp. If he had to run blind, at least he had a direction.

He didn't hesitate. As soon as Rika turned to say something else to her partner, Judd broke free and ran.

It was a moonless night, too dark to see even a yard in front of him, but he didn't let that stand in his way.

He ignored how sick he felt, ignored the pounding in his head, ignored everything but the thought of what would happen if he stopped.

Judd wasn't about to lose his fucking freedom over a mistake.

'I'm not your enemy,' Skye had said. Yeah fucking right. Was this part of his plan? Leave Judd all trussed up and incapacitated for his slaver buddies?

He heard the man yell behind him—way too close for comfort—and pushed himself to go faster.

Any other time he'd be outmatched. Dehydrated, bound, unable to see. But running for your life gave you a kind of edge.

Camp was a few miles out, but he had friends there. Trading partners. All he had to do was get within shouting distance and he could get help.

If it weren't for the fucking acacia, he might've actually gotten away.

It was a tiny thing, barely knee high. It should've crumbled as soon as he came into contact with it, but Judd was the one to fall.

Without his arms free to stop him, he hit the ground hard enough to bruise.

The pair of slavers were on him in an instant, the man pinning him to the ground while Rika tied his legs together. She gagged him too, adding insult to injury.

"Try that again. I fucking dare you," she spat. The man threw him over his shoulder, and it took all of Judd's willpower to not be sick.

They made the trek back to the pair's landspeeders, slinging Judd across the back of one of them like a piece of cargo.

He'd blown his chance to run. Short of flinging himself off a moving speeder, there was no escape, and all that would do was break a few bones.

There would be more opportunities, right? He'd find one. He'd find a way. The alternative—spending the rest of his life a captive, bought and sold and forced to do who-knows-what—was unbearable to think about.

He'd find a way. He'd break free. Fight off the rest of the slavers once his head cleared, kill them all if he had to.

They'd made a mistake taking him. Judd was a fucking fighter.

It wouldn't be long before they learned that firsthand.

×××