#but anyway when Tyrell’s dad was called on to ask a question

[arlo-venn]

I went to see a John Waters comedy show tonight with Tyrell bc whomever she was supposed to take with her backed out, or something, and I don’t dislike John Waters but it was really… stupid? Saw lots of Cincinnati folk that I recognized and despite having lived here for ten whole years, that still amazes me— as a person who spent the first twenty years of their life moving around constantly.

Tyrell’s dad came, his seat was very far away from ours thankfully because he asked a very embarrassing question at the end 😅 We got to sit next to our neighbors, the ones who also have a dog named Arlo. I found out that they refer to my son as the better behaved Arlo! Which is good for my ego.

Anyway, I wasn’t expecting a John Waters comedy show to be so… basic? is the word that comes to mind? I was promised that he’s a weirdo but he just seemed like a normal 77yo queer man. I ended up stealthily playing my favorite numbers game on my watch for the second half. But I’m glad I got to go with Tyrell and be there with her for the experience (she’s obsessed with him) and the memory.

[noreasonjustbored]

You Will Never Understand My Everything

Warning- Sensitive Subject Matter Regarding Racism and Police Brutality

“Hey babe, do you know where the extra gumball tubes are?” Henry asks while walking through the door.

Charlotte jumps slightly, sniffles and wipes at the tears streaming down her face with the back of her hands. She was so focused on her phone that she didn’t hear Henry come in at all.

Plus she purposely chose to hide out in the storage room because no one really went in there. She wasn’t expecting for anyone to find her at all, especially not in such a vulnerable state.

“What’s wrong Char?” came the concerned voice of her boyfriend.

“Nothing. It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.” Charlotte mumbles while standing from her crisscrossed position on the floor. She eyes her shoelaces and dusts off her jeans nervously.

Henry steps further into her space, lifts her head with a finger to the chin and attempts to make eye contact. Her eyes are red and puffy.

“It doesn’t seem like nothing. You’re clearly upset. What’s going on?”

“It’s personal. You wouldn’t get it anyway.”

A flash of hurt flickers in Henry’s eyes and he nods. “Okay. Well if you decide that it is something, let me know.”

Henry backs up slowly and then turns to leave the room. He walks back into the Man Cave with a frown on his face. There is obviously a problem, Henry has never seen her cry in all their years of knowing each other.

He contemplates his girl’s words. I wouldn’t get it? Personal? What is that supposed to mean? I thought we told each other everything.

Ray had recently started participating in what he called Superhero Self-Care Sunday. He was currently in a full face mask with his head rested back against the edge of the couch and cucumbers over his eyes.

Henry walks over to the other side and plops down moodily.

Ray whips his head in Henry’s direction, cucumbers flying. He gives him an annoyed glare for disturbing his peace.

“Why are you being so noisy?”

“I haven’t said one word.”

“Yeah, well your teenage angst is loud.”

Henry rolls his eyes in response.

“Who peed in your cereal?”

“Eww dude. No one peed anywhere. It’s just Charlotte.”

“She finally realized that she was slumming it with you and kicked you to the curb?”

“What?! No!”

“It’s true though” Schowz gives his unsolicited opinion from his spot at the console.

“We did not break up!”

“Then what’s got your panties in a twist?”

“I wear boxers.”

“Whatevs” Ray says while swatting the air in nonchalance.

Henry sighs. “Something is upsetting Char but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“Wait. You’re mad that your girlfriend isn’t complaining to you about all her troubles?” Ray asks incredulously.

“That doesn’t seem like an issue to me” says the shorter man while walking towards them.

“Ugh. You guys don’t understand. She was crying. When have you ever seen her do that?”

Both men looked stumped while trying to think of a single instance where Charlotte had let tears fall in front of them.

“I know! There was that one time when she cried about missing that really good sale for crop tops” Ray offered.

“That was Jasper” Henry deadpanned.

“Oh yeeeeeaaaahhh” he agrees.

“Jasper is strange” adds Schowz.

“Hm. I guess that is out of the ordinary. So what was wrong with her?”

“I don’t know! That’s the whole point.”

“Right. I forgot.”

“Did you ask what caused her sadness?” the foreigner wondered.

“Of course I did! She blew me off. Said that I wouldn’t get it.”

“Maybe she thought that you couldn’t handle it.” “She probably doesn’t trust you” the two older men say at the same time.

“You guys are no help” Henry says frustratedly while getting up from the couch and walking towards the elevator.

“Where are you going?” Ray inquires.

“Away from you” came the reply as the blonde stepped into the elevator.

“Rude” he mutters under his breath before picking up a cucumber from the table and biting into it.

Once upstairs Henry walked towards Jasper who was at the register.

“Hey Hen, how goes it?”

“Bad Jasp. It goes bad.”

“What? Why?” Jasper asks confused.

“Charlotte is going through something but she won’t tell me what it is.”

“Ok and?”

“What do you mean ‘Ok and?’ Char is keeping things from me.”

“Yeah but it sounds like she wants to work through it alone. It probably doesn’t concern you.”

“Charlotte and I always tell each other everything.”

“You guys don’t tell each other everything, that’s impossible. Look, I get that you don’t want to see her hurting.”

“Why does it sound like a but is coming?”

“But...if she has something happening that she wants to keep to herself, then you have to respect that.”

“I hate seeing her so broken up, I want to help her through whatever it is.”

“You have to understand that you aren’t entitled to her every thought and feeling just because you guys are dating. That’s bonkers.”

“I guess you’re right. When did you get so wise dude?”

“I don’t really know. Maybe it’s just my natural state of being.” Jasper responds while trying to lean his elbow against the counter.

Except he underestimates how far away the counter really is and ends up almost falling when his elbow meets air.

“Yeah, natural state of being alright.”

Henry leaves Jasper in the front and takes the tubes back down. When the tube lifts he notices that Charlotte is sitting at the couch with her forehead on the table. Schowz and Ray are nowhere to be seen.

He walks towards her and clears his throat. She glances up in surprise. “I thought you left?”

Henry sits down. “I was in the store with Jasper.”

A few agonizing seconds go by while the couple just stare at each other.

“Listen I didn’t mean...” “I just wanted to...” they start simultaneously.

Both stopping and then nervously chuckling, Charlotte jumps in, “You go.”

“I’m sorry for trying to pressure you into telling me what was wrong. I just hate seeing you so down in the dumps.”

“No, I’m sorry for hurting your feelings. I didn’t mean for what I said to come out so harsh. Thank you for caring.”

“I will always care. I love you Char.”

A soft smile spreads over her face. “I love you too Hen.”

Henry leans in and presses a sweet kiss against her lips. Sucking in a deep breath, Charlotte releases it slowly.

“The reason why I was-“

“You don’t have to tell me” Henry interrupts.

“I know, I want to.”

“Okay” he nods and gives her his undivided attention.

“The reason why I was crying earlier is because I stumbled across the video of Tyrell Watkins getting shot by the police.”

“I haven’t seen it. What happened?”

“Routine traffic stop. The cop said that his car matched the description of a stolen vehicle. His daughter was also in the car, she got it all on Facebook live.

“Was it?”

“Was it what?”

“Stolen?”

“No, the car wasn’t stolen!”

“It seems like a pretty big mistake on the officer’s part. That guy should sue when he gets out of the hospital.”

“That guy’s name is Tyrell. And he can’t sue.”

“Why not?”

“He’s dead.”

“Huh?”

“Tyrell is dead. The officer killed him.”

“Oh my god.”

“The cop asked for his registration and when he went to get it, he shot him several times.”

Silent tears stream down Charlotte’s face as she struggles to get her words out. “The officer is claiming that he saw him reaching for a gun.”

“I-I don’t understand.”

“What don’t you understand?” Char sniffs.

“The officer asked him to get something and then shot him for following directions?”

“Yep.”

“That can’t be the whole situation. We must be missing something.”

“We aren’t missing anything Henry. That’s the entire scenario.”

“Can I see the video?”

“It’s pretty graphic. Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

After seeing the video Henry was seemingly more confused and upset. “I can’t believe this. What kind of half-assed training did this officer get? He needs to be fired!”

“It’s not just training Hen. If this was you or Ray, it never would have ended like this.

Henry looked up from the phone with questioning eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You would have been annoyed to have been stopped unnecessarily but you would’ve survived to complain about it later. This turned out horribly because the man was black.”

“No... I don’t think- It can’t be... I’m not sure if- You really think so?”

“I know so. The cop shot into the car with a minor in the passenger seat. She could have been shot as well! The girl is around your sister’s age. If your dad and Piper were pulled over there wouldn’t even be a video. She wouldn’t have recorded anything at all. Why does that little girl even know to film the police?”

“I’m not sure why she pulled out her phone. But I’m definitely glad that she is okay.” Henry answers while scratching his head.

“Because as black people we know that we are disproportionately targeted by the police. We know that recording is the only way to hold them accountable. We also know that even with the evidence of misconduct, officers still literally get away with murder!”

“I-“ Henry starts.

Charlotte stands abruptly. “And another thing! The daughter may be okay physically but she is mentally traumatized. Not only will she never see her father again, she watched him get killed right in front of her. She is forever scarred!”

“Did you know him?”

“No. I didn’t know him personally. But I didn’t have to know him to know that he didn’t deserve to die.” Charlotte slumps back into her seat.

Observing his girlfriend, it seemed as if she was weary down to her bones. Like the sorrow she felt went down to her very core. Like she was defeated.

Lost for words and recognizing that he didn’t have a way to make it all better, Henry wrapped his arms around Charlotte in a tight, comforting hug.

He wanted to communicate how much he wished that the world they lived in wasn’t so filled with hate. How he knows that he can never truly comprehend what it means to be Black in a White world. How he was so angry that this was the reality she faced.

But that wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t fix systematic racism. It wouldn’t bring Tyrell Watkins back to life.

So all he could do at this moment was show her that he loved her and that he would always be there for her.

She sighed and closed her eyes as she rested her cheek against his chest.

“We will never be unarmed when our skin color is seen as a weapon” she whispers.

[semicolonthefifth]

CROSS Ch7 - La Artilleria

Jason and Charlie drove up north along the Black Road, passing by the vast stretches of open red dirt plains and the rolling horizon of endless mountains. For the past 40 minutes they have driven, speedily going down the Road as Jason kept his focus on the road, whereas Charlie looked to the scrolling environment. Thoughts ran through the young man’s head as he watched the red mountains against vibrant blue skies.

His excitement of Aurora was explicit for all to see, especially as he took in the sights beyond the Black Road. Charlie watched, with an eager grin and an ever-attentive watch. Far off he could see several villages that dotted the landscape, with small cars moving out in between them or toward the Road. The setting was largely vacant, without any other landmarks to stand out within the wasteland.

However his attention soon turns towards Jason Cross, as Charlie relaxes into his seat some more before thinking of something to say to better fill the time. Topics run through his mind, and he feels unsure of where exactly to start - until eventually settled on one and asked politely,

“Excuse me, Jason. If I may ask: how much of this world did you travel when you were part of the Crimson Crosses?”

Jason gives a quick glance over, lazily leaning back as he keeps a hand rested on the wheel. He then answers, a little interested, “Not much, to be honest. We stayed mainly in what the Deltans call Krossim - which is the stretch of open crossing through the mountains here. Up further North, past the Calberi landing station is a giant desert called Conq-Wey-Lay; then South is Taar, where the city of Moreatta is. Of course we’ve only gotten into the tips of either region, never gotten any deeper. Ain’t had no reason to.”

“So you’ve never been to Moresatta?”

“Nope. Again, no reason. I heard it’s nice, safer than life here on the Road apparently. I just don’t have the money or need to ever live in a place like that.”

“I see. You mentioned the Deltans just before; you think we’ll ever see one? Have you seen one?” Charlie seemed particularly excited about that topic, as heard in his brighter tone of voice.

Jason paused for a moment, stuck in thought before finally giving an answer. “Not really. My dad met some in his time, even befriended a couple. Still, the natives don’t much like coming close to the Road, so don’t expect to see one anytime soon.”

“Why’s that? They still have problems with the road?”

“It ain’t comfortable for them. Whole lotta craziness and badness happened for them here, especially on the Road. Been a long time since the wars, longer for us - but for them it still hurts fresh. Many have gotten over it, but the Road is not a place they want to be living near - it’s too different than what they want. In all my time in the Crosses, I’ve barely seen a Deltan walk anywhere close to the Road.”

“Speaking of the Crosses.” Charlie starts, really getting into the talk with Jason. “You mentioned your father a moment ago. Was he in the Crimson Crosses too?”

That got Jason smiling, as he was even more comfortable now while memories of his father came up. He said happily to the young passenger, “Of course! The Crimson Crosses have been a thing since about the War here. My dad served in it, his too, and so on and so forth - right down to Jeremiah Cross and his trusted cavalry. They started out as a pretty good unit working under your government, but when they saw how bad things were turning after the war, they split off and vowed to keep the people safe. They’d ride across the Road, helping villages out and overall giving everybody a gun to feel safe under. Before us my dad, Magnus Cross, probably worked his whole life doing the same thing - even teaching us to take his place when his aim weren’t any good. He kept working, even after our mom died - and he kept raising us good especially after that.”

Charlie, said with some uncertainty after that reveal, “Sorry to hear about that.”

Jason tsk’d, “It’s fine. We uh… didn’t know much about her anyways, other than she had family elsewhere in the wastes. It was when Fred and I were small, but my dad still did a fine job when she went away. He raised us to survive on our own, and in how to aim and shoot like a proper Cross should. We studied the Code that ol’ Jeremia wrote, and we’d go on missions right when Fred and I just turned about 14 years old. Did a lot of things, but most importantly we did our best to capture raiders and brought them before the law. Lotta memories.”

Charlie smiled some, casually looking back at the scrolling landscapes as he said softly, “No kidding. You know, your reports got a lot of attention back home at Tyrell. Radio stations got hold of some of the news that came from here, and they’d relay them as stories for us.”

“You uh…” Jason whispered a bit, amused and curious as he put off a toothy grin, “You saying I’m something of a celebrity back home?”

“Only to a small audience.” Charlie state matter-a-factly, causing Jason to huff out a curse. The young man then continued, “They got popular enough to prompt some collections and archives, but there’s no beating the old stuff. Still, it got me grabbing so much in order to get an idea of what it was like here. There were some favorites: the Black Road Chase; the 8-Man shootout; The Butcher of Red Peaks.”

“Ha!” Jason hollered, his grin fully restored. “The Butcher. Son-of-a-bitch ol’ Hetfield.”

“A favorite of yours too?”

“Oh, Kirk Hetfield? Yeah, a favorite between me and Fred as well. We fought on several occasions, and each time the crazed bastard came back wanting to get back at us. Every time he came around, coming in all red and blood covered and each time we came and slogged a good couple punches his way. Almost became fucking routine, the maniac. Some days we’d just wait by the property, and we’d know that somewhere he was up to his usual business, and then we’d get the call. We became so good we managed to catch him right at the act of his first kill of that very day.”

“Didn’t he carve people up for their fat and meat? We heard he was a cannibal.”

Jason frowned and was taken aback - looking absolutely insulted, “God’s sakes no! Damn assholes in Tyrell making up stories… the man wasn’t a cannibal, not in the slightest. He was just some crazed farmer who just got angry at the government one day, and thought the best way to get under their skin was to start killing farm animals. He only hurt one guy, and that was mostly in self-defence when someone caught him drawin’ and quartering a cow! Absolute fucking head-case! But, you know… he was just troubled, is all. Always under stress; had a lot of hate in his body, and he didn’t know what to do with it most days. My father tried setting him straight once - didn’t work. It wasn't until after several attempts from my brother and I did we finally get to him. I think he’s still out there, and probably way too old to do much harm.”

Charlie was completely silent afterwards, and kept staring on towards the horizon. His face was just blank - still and only ever blinking as his eyes trailed left and right for a moment or two. A long minute passes before he eventually asks,

“How do you draw and quarter a cow?”

“I’d tell ya, but I don’t want to remember. Let’s just say the farmer who owned that cow sold his entire life away for a one-way trip off the planet after that ordeal.”

“Never heard stories like that…”

“You live here long enough and you’ll see all sorts of insanity. Speaking of… we’re about close to where we’re heading.”

Jason begins to swerve onto the dirt, with the sudden shift from smooth sailing to rough riding hitting Charlie the hardest. His gaze to the then scrolling horizon gets shaken up every which way, and all the man could do was hold on for dear life. It takes a moment for him to gather his wits before he asks the million cred question, “Where are we going, exactly?”

“A place to get some answers… and some guns.” Jason replies, pointing straight ahead. Charlie squinted his eyes, getting a good look of what appeared to be… a box.

A lone vertically rectangular box, sitting calmly in the middle of nothing but dirt and the stray rock. The box, from Charlie’s best guess, stood at approximately 6 feet wide around and 12 feet tall, and was entirely constructed from concrete. It was painted in a pure white color, but that didn’t stop the layers of red dirt to add some warmth to its blocky canvas. It also looked like the occasional would-be artist also took their turn at the desert box - even from afar (and closing) - Charlie could make out the blurry, faded traces of graffiti. Aside from the pictures of middle-fingers proudly erect and smiling bullets, there was a tremendous lexicon of slurs and curses painted over each other. Layers upon layers of expletives, especially towards mothers, fathers, and their children born out of wedlock. Much of it had been scrubbed away, either naturally through time or out of the efforts of the box’s owner. Rapidly soon, Charlie could almost make out the most faded out words - and realized that Jason’s car was speeding right towards it.

Charlie nearly screamed and recoiled before Jason made a sharp swerve and came to a sudden stop right before he could hit the box. He was holding onto his seat like a cat, his fingers deep into the leather alike claws. Meanwhile, Jason casually reached into the glovebox and pulled out from it: a gaudy-looking handgun… and a claw hammer. He shoves the gun to his pocket, while keeping the hammer ready in hand.

The two men came then out from the car, though Charlie mostly crawled onto the ground - silently praying that it was there to greet him.

After a couple short breaths, Charlie slowly began to get up and weakly asked, “What was that for?”

“Oh, that?” Jason calmly asked, inspecting the hammer closely, “It’s just how we greet each other here.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” He breathlessly inquired.

“Me and Buddy. We’re good friends.” With that Jason comes over to Charlie, helping him up a bit before slowly making his way around the box.

As the pair came around, Charlie could almost make out some muffled music coming from inside the box - it sounded to be a mix of rap and a language he was unfamiliar with.

Right when Jason and Charlie came to a corner, Jason stops and points at the ground. Confused but too unsure to question what’s going on, Charlie stays where he’s at - all the while peeking out the corner to see what was at the other side.

At the ‘front’ face of the box was another wall, but with a cutout for a window. In the window were several metal bars running vertically, with the hole itself being too small to crawl inside even if there were no bars present.

Meanwhile Jason slowly rounds the corner, sticking to the walls beside the window but never sticking himself out in front of it. Holding the hammer in hand, Jason takes a couple breaths before signaling to Charlie again - this time with a finger wedged into his ear. Charlie does the same for both ears, all the while watching intensely before Jason proceeds to calmly say towards the window,

“Hey Buddy.”

For a split second a gasp is heard, then a record scratch, followed by--

BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!

A flurry of gunshots sound out from the window! Bullets fly as a skeletal, pale hand sticks out from the barred window and unleashes more bullets.

Charlie jumps back away, hard enough that he manages to throw his full weight against the ground. Jason flinchest, yet is otherwise appearing to be lacking in shock.

Eventually the gunshots give way to the sound of clicking, and almost immediately Jason grabs at the hand and pulls. With it comes an equally pale, skinny arm - attached to a grotesquely bony, pale man whose body is slammed against the bars. He pants wildly, his body writhing like a cockroach trying to free itself from its trapped limb. The man lets out a loud series of groans and whines, all with hissing and spitting. The creature keeps pulling, as if at any point the arm would give away completely - all the while Jason, with his hammer in hand, holds it at the ready as he struggles and yells with a mixture of happiness and fury, “Hey Buddy! Been a while hasn’t it?!”

‘Buddy’ starts to laugh (and cry) hysterically, still writhing in panic as he keeps pulling for his arm to be free. Eventually the man stops laughing and instead lets out some dry, wheezy breaths before speaking in a moist, high-pitched voice, “J-Jason?! Oh God, I didn’t think it be you, ol’ friend! J-just got a bit scared is all! Not’in bad about that, right?!”

“Scared?” Jason asks with mocking concern, “Of what?” Now why would you be scared of me when you’ve been so good up to this point. I mean, you haven’t been messing with me in any way, right? Haven’t tried a little something that would send me to a rager?”

“Honest no! Pos’tively, abs’lutely no! I didn- AAAARGH! AAAAAAAH!” Buddy then screams, as Jason starts pelting the man’s arm with the blunt end of the hammer.

“Better learn to stop fucking lying, Buddy!” Jason angrily replies, “One of these days it’s going to get you killed. Now… try again!”

“Nnnnnngh! Fuckin’!” Buddy growls and hisses, shaking fiercely from the pain. “F-F-Fine! I sorta, maybe, kinda tweaked somethin’ in that rifle a’yours back last week! I knew you were gunnin’ for a bounty up West, but I didn’t want ya killin’ one of my best buyers this month! I swears, I thought you’ve give up an’ go! Not chase ‘em over! No harm meant, honest!”

By this point Charlie had risen back up off the floor, and asks nervously, “So this is a ‘good friend’ of yours?”

Jason explains while gripping tighter at Buddy’s exposed arm, “Oh, it’s just how it is with this guy. Buddy’s just been a very bad guy and he needs to understand that setting your customer’s rifles to explode isn’t what makes for a healthy business. Now that that has been brought up…”

He turns the hammer and presses the pointed claw end against Buddy’s forearm - digging but not piercing the skin. This finally causes Buddy to drop the gun onto the floor, as his own grip weakens against Jason’s. Once it’s been dropped, Jason finally lets go of Buddy’s limb, letting the pathetic creature quickly slink back into the box. All Charlie could hear was whimpering from within the box, as Jason picks the gun from the floor and casually wipes the dirt off from it. As he cleans it, he takes a gander and comments, “Recent trade Buddy? I thought they stopped making this model about a year ago. Can’t remember how far back it’s been since I last saw one.”

Charlie slowly comes from the corner to peer into the window more, and some where he can get the full picture of what exactly was inside the box.

Inside he could see an emaciated, pale-skinned man - and behind him, walls filled to the brim with guns. A ton of guns. A whole arsenal with enough firepower to riddle a village to nothing three times over, and with enough ammo to spare afterwards once the dust was cleared. It was a mad mechanic’s wonderland dedicated to the gun, as all sorts hund and lay every possible inch. On strings and on hooks, wall to wall were firearms of varying levels of deconstruction. Rifle butts stuck out from a crate, and disassembled handguns lay across an entire surface of a table wedged and cut to fit in such tight quarters. There were several boxes of gun cleaning kits, alongside a portable welder and engraving machine. All around he could see at least 49 handguns, 20 semi-automatic rifles, 18 shotguns, 4 small machine guns, 6 heavy machine guns, and a library of ammunition ranging from those that can tear flesh like a blender, and those that’ll explode and rittle you with more holes than a grater.

The man named Buddy was another sight, but for different reasons. Looking to be in his twenties, he was a bony, hunched over man with a sickly pale complexion with very little pink in areas. His fat was practically nonexistent, and from head to two he was covered in grease and oil - making Charlie wonder how the hell Jason could’ve kept a tight hold on such a slipper vermin. His face was crooked in all sorts of ways. His nose slanted downward; his teeth were long and pointy, with deepening shades of yellow with no white in sight; his hair was greyed and as about as sickly looking as his body, with it clumping up due to the oil - made worse by the prominent bald-spot encompassing much of his cranium. Tightly strapped around his head were a set of circular goggles, which dug around his eye-sockets and had an orange-ish tint, either by design or dirty circumstance. The only attire he had on him was a set of underwear and socks, neither one Charlie could safely call clean.

Buddy panted and eventually recovered from his brush with Jason’s hammer, before replying with a scowl and a forcibly casual tone, “Y-yeah. Some b-bastard raider came ‘round and traded it in. Said he got it off some former lawman or something.”

He then casted a glare at Charlie, who promptly stepped back with a slight shock and joined closely with Jason.

Jason, meanwhile, brought the gun back to Buddy. All the while he proceeded his conversation as if the beatings he just delivered never happened, “Right, right. Look, Buddy, we’re just here for two things. Try doing us a favor and at least do one of them right, ok?”

“Hrmph!” Buddy groaned, scratching his belly with his left hand while his right was moving to grab a part far off up the shelves. It was then that Charlie could see the other visible detail of Buddy: his long and disfigured arm. It was jointed wrongly, and two areas before the wrist. It twisted and bent in ways no normal arm should, with the shoulder itself having something of a growth or hump. It acted almost independently from Buddy, with it casually grabbing things off the shelves and walls with its three digits. Aside from a thumb, the hand possessed only two fingers, with them being just as thick as the thumb. The way it squirmed and jittered almost brought Charlie to vomit.

Jason notices, proceeding then on with a late introduction. “Oh right. Charlie, this is Buddy. Buddy, this fine lad here is Charlie: he needs a gun.”

Charlie almost reflexively turns at Jason with a face of pure shock, wordlessly shouting ‘what?!’ while Buddy brings his malformed hand back down and takes a glance at the boy. Jason continues to be casual, explaining to Charlie, “Buddy here is a gunsmith, about the best one here for miles. You won’t find any other gun seller willing to sell you a good gun for a cheap price - especially when he’s playing for no side. He’s also a raging jackass who’ll just as sell you a gun as he would have it fall apart before use.”

“Not my fault it’s the winning strategy.” Buddy gleefully points out as he gives a wheezy chuckle. “Can’t let cheap buyers kill my best customers.”

“Won’t work if whoever survives your pranks decides to come back and burn you and the whole damn shop to the ground!” Jason snaps, before resuming his calmer conversation with Charlie. “Anyways, he’s your best guy for a gun out here if you don’t have a lot to spend. They’re quicker and easier to get around here than anywhere else on the Road.”

Charlie, however, brings up a point of much concern before Jason. “Jason… I have no clue where you got the impression, but I’ve never wielded a firearm. I don’t even have a license; shouldn’t I first get one before we…”

He trailed off a bit upon seeing Jason’s face, and the budding laughter he was trying his damndest to restrain. Eventually it breaks through and erupts, as Jason breathes harshly with every sharp laugh that escapes from him. Charlie gets blushed from the embarrassment before Jason calms down and explains,

“Come on man, there ain’t no license to get on Aurora! You come here, you’re just as free as any man or woman to grab a gun. Hell, there ain’t even a license for a car!”

Charlie ponders aloud, looking a bit worried, “That explains many of the things I’ve seen so far since coming here.”

“Look Charlie, just trust me. You’ll need a gun while you’re out here. I’ll give you a quick lesson once we get the chance, but for now just know I won’t be sitting you with anything too strong for ya.” Jason states, turning from Charlie to Buddy as he then starts on the trade, “So how about it? Can we get some guns?”

Buddy cracks his own neck with a twitch before leaning back and keeping away from the window. He snarls and replies, “Alright… what ya want?”

Jason lists off, “Two UR-5 Wakeman handguns, along with 3 full clips each. An extra box of rounds. One UR-7 Rangers rifle, a--”

Suddenly Buddy starts cackling, taking a sharp breath before exclaiming, “You got some balls if ya thinkin’ of making a buy like that! I know you don’t got the creds for it Jason, so don’t be asking for a rifle you can’t be affordin’!”

“I can afford a Ranger just fine, Buddy!” Jason shouts. “Every farmer and their mother’s got one!”

“Aye, but the price just went up! Sale’s been booming, and supply’s short! Unless you wanting to be as armed as every ‘Farma and his mom’, then you better come back with 850 creds!”

Jason quiets up a bit, eyes widening at the price before he tries to be a little more polite. “Listen, Buddy. I can get the money. The job I’m going on will pay me big-time, and there will be a lot of guns to bring back once I’m done. Just think of it as paying forward on an investment.”

“Fat. Fucking. Chance!” Buddy spits, “I let you off, then everyone will be coming for my neck. If you ain’t got the money for it, you ain’t getting the rifle. Simple.”

Groaning, Jason grabs the pistol he nabbed off Sid and held it over to Buddy. “What about this? This has to be good enough for a trade, right?”

Buddy leans close, eyeing it. Jason holds the pistol in such a way that the grip stays still against the rest of the gun, but a slight twitch lets off a subtle crackle that Buddy is just able to pick up. He rapidly moves back, grimacing with disgust.

“I ain’t taking that hunk of junk! You thinkin’ you can hide trash like that from me? Put that gun here, and I might blast my own nuts off! No deal!”

Jason is just about to start yelling again, even holding Sid’s gun up in the air - ready to throw it down onto the floor. Right then though Charlie interrupts, grabbing Jason’s arm before chiming in with a calm and cool, “I’ll pay for it.”

Things go quiet and calm as Jason looks down at Charlie. His ears perk, and he wonders if he heard Charlie right. The young man looks back at Jason, and as if reading his mind nods and confirms what he heard was true. He then looks at Buddy, as best he could considering the sight, and repeats,

“I’ll pay for it.”

Jason almost suggests Charlie not to do it, but Charlie remains firm and repeats his statement a third time, then adding, “If we need it, then I’m willing to pay for it.”

Charlie is quick to pull out his wallet, and sighing a bit Jason does the same. Buddy grins at them both, giving a full price for both Charlie and Jason to pay off: with the considerable amount paid off by Charlie’s creds, and the last remaining bit by Jason’s. After which Buddy pocketed every bit of it with his normal hand, while the disfigured one automatically slithered up and down the box interior to grab what was ordered. Buddy didn’t even need to look, as the arm felt every gun briefly before finding the right ones to lay at the table - this while he finishes putting the creds away and grabbing the ammunition with his normal hand. After all was collected, Buddy slid out what they bought:

2 sleek handguns with only a bit of grime on them. The guns were fully metallic, with an angular build and box-like slide and muzzle. They both looked a bit heavy.

A semi-automatic rifle, with a scope on top. It was a mix of a wooden body and metal workings, and it had an almost Old Earth Western feel with its curvature and sling. Out of all the weapons, this one was the cleanest.

Then finally the additional ammunition - enough for the job, as Jason hopes.

Jason spent several minutes inspecting each one, checking for any flaws or tamperings. Buddy watched, occasionally twitching in fright whenever Jason sharply turned the guns in any way. After some time, to both Jason and Buddy’s relief, the inspection found all guns to be in good shape - minus some dirt and oil. Jason handed a handgun to Charlie - who looked at it one moment with amazement in finally holding on is his hands for the very first time. It made his heart beat more strongly when he inspected it, and over the initial surprise came in a great weight of responsibility. He dares not to hold it in a way that would seem aggressive - keeping it pointed downward as waits on Jason to finish any remaining business.

“Last thing before we leave, Buddy.” Jason began. “We’re hunting down some gang causing trouble down the Road, and I’m sure you’ve probably sold guns to them at some point. I’m gonna need some directions to where they could be hiding, and so I hope that maybe you’ve seen something of theirs.” He reaches into his pockets, producing the patch he had gotten earlier. Holding it by the window, Buddy is able to get a good look.

After a brief examination, Buddy leans back and says with a grin. “Stone Groove Aces, eh? Bit too small a problem now, don’t ya think?”

“They’re gunning for me, Buddy. Better I deal with them while they’re making it personal.”

“Bah! Who isn’t gunnin’ for you these days Jason.” Buddy coughs, chuckling a bit to himself as he picks a disassembled pistol off a rack and starts to give it a check over. He talks as he works, saying, “Don’t like ‘em though. Bastards, all of them. Get drunk near my shop and start scaring off the good payin’ customers. Their money was alright, but they wanted me to be their sole supplier. Big balls if they thinkin’ of pulling that shit! They ain’t Tarantulas or Jackals, those bastards all new and thinkin’ they big. Heard they got plans or something, making them think they so high and big-time. Only ever met a couple at a time, but I got a good idea where they’re hidin’.”

With his deformed hand casually going under the table, he later brings up a folded piece of paper and hands it over to Jason. He adds, “They’re hiding West, near the Syore Mountains. Go South down the Road till you spot a fort, turn Westward soon as you see it over a hill. If ya’ near the archway, you’re closing in on the right spot. Keep heading towards the mountains till you find a place to walk in through - after that you can use this map here to get a better idea on where they hidin’. It’s all on you though to put in the legwork.”

Jason takes it, inspecting that as well before storing it into his pocket. He begins making his leave, with Charlie following after. On the way out Jason says aloud, “Thank you for your service Buddy. There'll be a lot of guns coming your way once this is over.”

Buddy merely waves them off, all the while grinning to himself. His deformed arm moves up and starts to slide some guns to the side - making room for some future stock.

As Jason and Charlie make their way to the car, Charlie asks worriedly of Jason. “How’re you sure you can trust that guy? He looks and sounds as shifty as you can get.”

“I don’t.” Jason answers.

Charlie gets into the car, confused. Before long Jason too gets in, explaining further,

“Either he’s lying and I come back to kick his ass again - or, he’s honest and he makes a profit off my work. Out of those two options, at the end of the day, he’d rather have the second.”

Partially satisfied, Charlie gives no response to Jason.

After Jason stores the guns safely into his car, and with everything all settled and done, Jason stars the car and turns southward - back onto the Road once more.

[kee-writestrashh]

Guns for Hire

Ramsay Bolton x Reader

ao3

Summary:  You are the wife to the Heir of the Red Kings, Ramsay Bolton. living the undercover life of a mob wife has its perks, and you love your husband. But you find out something that seems to unfold a series of unwanted events…

Chapter 28: The Iron Bank

Ramsay entered the living room looking irritated. He stopped at the end of the couch, folding his arms and giving you a rather dangerous look.

You set your book down and offered an innocent smile.

"Why the fuck have you been up since fucking five o'clock?" He demanded, raising a brow and narrowing his eyes.

You sighed, "Well, first, I had to pee. Seems to be becoming a constant thing. Then out of nowhere my nose started bleeding and I thought I was going to bleed out. It was an absolute nightmare. Then I just couldn't get comfortable and didn't want my tossing and turning to wake you. So I came in here to lay down and fell asleep for awhile. Then I woke up feeling worse. I have a terrible headache and my fucking hips hurt. I'm afraid to take anything. So anyways, I thought maybe I could go through my book collection and find a book to start reading the baby in a couple weeks. What do you think, The Outsiders or To Kill a Mockingbird?"

Ramsay ran his hand over his face, shook his head slightly, and walked towards the kitchen.

"Stay gold, Ponyboy." He mumbled, walking past you.

You grinned slightly, sitting up and stiffling a yawn. You slowly rose from the couch, the cold floor uncomfortable on your bare feet.

"I'm sorry I didn't stay in bed. I know you don't like it." You said gently, wrapping your arms around your husband and resting your forehead on his warm, bare back.

He grunted, and continued to make coffee.

"You are just so lively this morning." You giggled, stepping away from him. "You good? You never sleep this late." You added, glancing at the clock to see it was almost 9.

He shrugged, lighting a cigarette, and stepping out the back door.

You frowned, watching him leave.

Something has definitely gotten under his skin. You thought.

Or maybe he had just worn himself out. You were exhausted. There was never a moments peace anymore. Not that you didn't do it to yourself. What were you thinking, cramming your day so full?

You rolled your shoulders and walked to the bedroom, opening your closet. You peeked around the door to look out the window. A bright, cloudless morning.

You pulled a sweater from its hanger and found your favorite pair of leggings.

×××

You met your parents outside the diner. And there was baby Eli. But, he wasn't such a baby anymore.

"Wow. You've grown up." You said, looking up at him.

His green eyes were hard. His jaw ticking. Of course you had seen his pictures on Facebook yet they didn't really do him justice. He was no longer the braceface, freckled youth you had once known. He was tall, built, and looked unyielding.

"That's what happens." He replied, a slight edge in his voice.

You sighed, heart sinking. You hoped he wasn't still mad at you. But you knew better.

You hitched your smile, "Eli, my husband, Ramsay. Ramsay, little brother, Eli."

Ramsay eyed him carefully as he shook your brother's hand.

"Pleasure." Ramsay said, dropping Eli's hand.

"That it is." Eli replied, also sizing Ramsay up.

"Food then? I'm starving." You said quickly.

Your mother did most of the talking through brunch. She was ecstatic about having two of her three children together.

"How long have you been in town?" Ramsay asked your brother.

"We only just got in night before last." Eli shrugged.

He had seemed to soften a bit through the course of the last hour.

"Well then, let's go out tonight. Bring a couple buddies and we will show you the nightlife." Ramsay said, tearing his straw wrapper into a pile of even pieces.

You shot your husband a quick look but said nothing.

Eli hesitated.

"I promise you'll still be alive in the morning." Ramsay chuckled.

"Guess it couldn't hurt. I'd like to get to know my sister again, and the man she's married to." Eli finally said.

Poor little brother.

"So anyways, dad, your heart. What's up?" You said, ready to change the subject.

Your father heaved a deep sigh, "they wanna go through with the surgery."

"Well, it won't be so bad. I'm sure Whit can find someone to help out with the animals until you're back up and running." You said, giving a smile.

"Well, it's not cheap. Having to hire a paid hand. The surgery itself. Insurance will fight us tooth and nail." Your father said with a defeated air.

You watched him, a throb stinging your heart. No, your parents didn't exactly hurt for money, but keeping a farm took just as much money as they made.

"Dad, don't worry about it. Give me a number and I will make it happen." You said, reaching across the table for his hand.

You felt the eyes of your mother and brother on you.

"No, no. I have a few horses that will bring in more than enough money. And we can..."

"No." You cut across him, "You aren't selling anything. You'd never forgive yourself if you sold Joe and Mac. Give me a number and it will be done two times."

"Baby, we couldn't ask you to do something like that." Your mother spoke up.

You made an impatient noise. Stubborn, hard working country folk.

"Mom, stop. You're taking the money whether you like it or not. My father in law owns one of the largest businesses in the world. We can afford it, I promise."

The note if finality in your voice kept anyone from saying anything else on the matter.

You glanced over at Ramsay who had been oddly quiet. His eyes were glued to the television across the room.

You followed his gaze.

A news reporter was interviewing a man who you didn't recognize, but you did recognize the name at the bottom of the screen:

Jon "White Wolf" Snow

You brought your eyes back to Ramsay, who sat rigid in his seat, fist balled on the table, eyes looking daggers at the TV, jaw clenched so tight it was amazing he hadn't broken all his teeth.

You cleared your throat, turning back to your family.

"Well, this has been wonderful, but I know we need to let you get back on the road."

Your father glanced at his watch, "yeah, got animals to take care of."

You had to stamp on Ramsay's foot to bring him back to the present.

"Hm?" He hummed, slowly bringing his face to yours.

"Parents. They need to leave." You said, giving them a glance.

"Right. Of course." Ramsay said, standing and helping you from your chair. He shrugged into his jacket, pulled his wallet out, dropped a crisp $100 on the table, and offered his arm to you.

You hugged your parents warmly as they climbed into their car.

"Be safe, please. Call if you need anything. Money will be in the bank tomorrow morning. I love you guys." You said, giving a small wave at them.

"Of course baby. We love you too!" Your mother said, waving back and rolling up her window.

You stood between Ramsay and your brother watching your parents leave. When they had disappeared into traffic you turned to Eli.

"Eight. My house. I'll send you the address." You said, hugging your brother for the first time in almost eight years.

"Seven." Ramsay said, shaking Eli's hand again.

"Seven?" You said, turning to Ramsay.

"Aye. Seven. Can't go play the game without a little warm up." Ramsay said with a small shrug, opening your door for you.

"Alright. Seven it is." Eli said with a nod.

×××

"You okay?" You asked, pushing the back of your earring into place, walking into the living room.

Ramsay was sprawled out on the couch, arm over his face.

"Yes, doll." He said, slightly annoyed.

You'd already asked him the same question probably 6 times since returning home.

You sighed, "Jon Snow?"

Ramsay sat up so quickly it frightened you.

"Do not ever speak that fucking bastard's name in my goddamn house." He growled.

The acid in his tone scaring you. You felt your eyes widen in fear and gave a small nod.

"I... uh... I have to go meet the Tyrell girl now." You said quietly, dropping your eyes to the floor and walking to the front door, pulling your purse from the table beside the door and fumbling with your keys.

"Baby girl, come here." Ramsay said, standing.

You slowly turned to face him, biting your lip, walking back across the room.

He grabbed your wrist once you were within reach and pulled you into him.

You stared at the buttons on his shirt, inhaling a calming breath through your nose.

He cupped your chin and brought your face to his. You didn't meet his gaze.

"Look at me." He whispered.

You swallowed, bringing your eyes to his.

He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and ran his thumb along your bottom lip.

"I shouldn't have yelled at you." He stated, placing his lips to yours.

"I'm sorry I made you mad." You said quietly, kissing him back.

"It doesn't matter. It will all be taken care of soon." He said, releasing you. "What do you hope to achieve in this meeting?"

You shrugged, "she seems like a talker. Maybe I can worm something useful out of her."

"See that you do. You need to let me send one of the Boys."

"No. I said I would be alone. That means no Boys allowed." You smirked. "I have my girls. It will be okay. I trust them."

"You shouldn't trust anyone." He said, crossing his arms.

"I trust you." You replied.

"I don't even trust me." He said.

"Point exactly." You smiled.

He chuckled and walked you to the door.

"If you're not back by five thirty, I am coming to collect you." He said, kissing your temple as you stepped out the door.

"Of course, baby. I love you." You said, giving him a fleeting kiss on the cheek.

"Love you too, baby girl." He said, closing the door.

You dropped your keys on the counter and took a seat across from Tyene, holding your hand out to her.

"Didn't Bella just fix this nail?" Tyene asked, pulling her acrylic box from a drawer.

"I have a habit of biting this one, apparently." You said, giving an innocent shrug.

"So, what's up?" Tyene asked, taking your hand in hers.

"Oh, you know. The usual. Margaery Tyrell is meeting me here in thirty." You said.

Tyene raised a brow, looking up from your hand. "Why?"

"Rams reckons she can be useful. Not sure what he's looking for, but told me to get friendly with her."

"Be careful around those roses. They are all full of thorns." Oberyn Martell said, sitting in the empty chair beside you.

"Didn't expect you to be here." You said, offering him a smile.

"Ah, but nowhere I would rather be than with my lover and beautiful daughters." He said brightly.

You smiled. You really liked this family.

"Is your husband busy?" He added.

You shook your head, "I don't think so."  

"Well, I have word from my brother and would much like to relay the message to the young Bolton."

"He was at home when I left. He didn't say anything about leaving."

Oberyn nodded, rising from his chair.

He rested his hand on your shoulder, "You are a beautiful mother to be. Children are precious gifts. Never forget that."

You regarded him and gave a smile, "Thank you."

He disappeared into the back as the door chimed behind you. You looked up at Tyene, but she shook her head and continued working on your nail.

"Anything new?" You asked.

"Lannister's are recruiting men like crazy. Losing the Baratheon's was a big blow to them. And, if it is okay with you, we will be unavialble for a few days after tomorrow." Tyene said, sounding unsure about the last part.

"Of course, what's up?" You nodded.

"Papa wants us all to take a few days to go home and be a whole family again."

"Yeah, no problem. Not at all. After today I plan on doing nothing but laying in bed and sleeping. I am beyond tired. I've been doing waaaay too much since Christmas." You said, the idea of laying in bed for days so very inviting.

Tyene gave a grin, "Thank you."

"No need. It is I who should thank you. Finding you all has been a real life saver." You said earnestly.

You relaxed into the chair, closing your eyes listening to Tyene gush about Matt. It was almost too cute.

Finally she led you to the drying lamp, braiding your hair as you waited on the timer.

The bell chimed again.

"It's her." Tyene said quietly, under her breath, as she checked that your nail was dry.

You stood, turning to see Margaery Tyrell and her bright smile. Next to her was a very old and wrinkled woman. It must have been her grandmother. The legendary Queen of Thorns.

"(Y/n)! So good to see you again." Margaery said brightly, wasting no time in crossing the room and embracing you in a tight hug.

"Yeah. You too." You replied, hugging her back. It was weird and it left you flustered.

Of course it did. It was a game. Everything was always a fucking game. But you were a master at games thanks to Ramsay. She wasn't going to throw you off.

"This is my grandmother, Olenna." Margaery said when she stepped away from you.

"A pleasure, ma'am." You said, inclining your head slightly.

"Let's get to it than, shall we, Bolton?" Olenna said, sitting in the nearest seat.

Everyone always said your last name in such distaste. But you guessed you understood.

"Yes ma'am. Let's." You said, pulling up a chair to sit across from the old woman and her granddaughter.

"Why did you invite us here?" The old woman asked with a haughty sniff.

"I won't beat around the bush here. Why are you marrying that idiot?" You said, turning your attention to Margaery.

Margaery's smile faltered slightly and the sparkle in her eyes dimmed slightly. You felt a swoop of pity for her.

"Family. Security." Margaery said, forcing her smile back into place.

"You poor girl. You're just being used to gain financial wealth." You tutted, anger surfacing as you turned your gaze to Olenna. "And you're just going to let this happen? Let your beautiful, intelligent granddaughter marry that... that monster?"

"I'm not sure you're qualified to call anyone a monster after what you are married to." Olenna said, her grip on her cane becoming tighter.

A laugh escaped you, "my husband may be many things but he is not a monster."

"No? What is he then? Do you know half the things he is accused of? Do we even want to know the things he does to you?"

"Yes. My husband is blood thirsty and ruthless, I will not try to deny it. He is wonderful to me. People cower at the name Bolton. Why? Because we take what is ours by force. We are not fucking pussies. We don't try to buy our wealth by marrying off our family members to someone who will destroy them. Now tell me, what do you gain by marrying Margaery to that little blonde shit?" You said, fighting to keep ylur voice even.

Olenna smirked, "my my. You are a fierce little thing. A true Bolton if there ever was one." She paused, heaving a sigh, "I do not like the idea anymore than Margaery, but we must do as we are told. I have no control over what my son does or does not do with the buisness. But if you think I will let my little rose marry that monster, you are much mistaken."

You leaned back in your chair, appraising the two women before you.

"When is the wedding?"

"March first." Margaery spoke up.

You stood, "and a beautiful bride you shall be. If the roses need assistance in anything just remember we bathe in the blood of our flayed enemies."

Both women nodded, standing and leaving without another word.

Once they were gone you turned to Tyene and Obella, "I want someone on both of them. I want to know what the old crone is up to. And find me Sansa Stark. And let me know as soon as Theon Greyjoy is spotted back in this wonderful city. Enjoy vacation." You said, pulling a wad of cash from your pocket and exchanging it for your keys on the counter.

×××

"So, are they going to do it before or after?" You asked, looking up at your husband from your seated position on the floor as he ran his hands over your shoulders.

"Don't know. We need more information on them." He said, rubbing light circles into your tired muscles as the doorbell rang.

You groaned in protest, pushing yourself up off the floor to answer the door.

Alyn, Damon, and Charlotte.

"(Y/n)." Damon nodded, stepping in as you stood back to let them pass.

"Um, I guess I'll go dress now. What am I wearing?" You said, closing the door and turning to your husband.

"Casual is fine for where we are going. But it will be hot, remember that." Ramsay said, running his eyes over you.

You nodded and crossed the room to the hallway.

You chose a simple grey dress that hugged you in all the right places.

You frowned, deciding there was no way you could wear strappy heels today. That left boots or flats of some sort. If only your husband wasn't acting like a douche and would tell you where the hell you were going.

You opted for gladiator sandals, as they matched better.

You heard the doorbell ring again, and fought a tiny, yet deadly internal battle with yourself about leaving Eli and his pals alone with Ramsay and his Boys, while you finished your makeup and hair. You said a small prayer of mercy for the young ones.

You had finished pinning your hair into place when Ramsay appeared in the doorway, cheeks a bit rosy, and a smirk on his face.

"You know, every time you have ever worn that dress at least one man has died."

You pursed your lips, turning to face him. "No killing tonight."

He held his hands up in mock surrender, "I don't make promises baby girl. Ready?"

You stepped into your husband, fixing his collar, and smoothing out his rolled sleeves.

"Is this going to be an all night thing?" You asked, unbuttoning one more button on his shirt, and sliding your ID in his breast pocket with his cigarettes and lighter.

"Depends on if the babies can hang." He shrugged, grabbing your ass and pulling you into him, kissing across your jaw.

"Let's go." You hissed, pushing him slightly.

He laced his fingers in yours and led you back into the living room.

Alyn had the room rolling in laughter when you entered. Eli rose from the sofa and hugged you. At least he was a happy drunk. Unfortunately also a lightweight.

"Sis, this is Wilson," he pointed to the man to his left, "and Kilpatrick." He pointed at the other man.

They both gave small waves. They too had to be no older than 22. So young, and yet so strange to see your brother so old. Not that being four years older than him made you that much older, but he would forever be 14 to you.

"Right boys, let's go fuck some shit up." Ramsay said, clapping his hands together and exchanging a wicked grin with Damon and Alyn.

"A strip club. Seriously?" You hissed as Ramsay helped you from the limo, "he's my baby brother."

Ramsay chuckled, "making up for the fact that I'm about to get hammered and probably fuck his sister for the whole world to see."

You opened your mouth, but found that embarrassment was blocking your airway.

Ramsay gave you a wink and led you inside.

It was loud, packed, and hot inside. People were having a hell of a time. It was weird to see a place like this so busy on a Thursday night.

"I don't want my brother with any of these woman." You protested, glancing at all the mostly naked women.

"They're all clean. Alyn makes sure they are tested regularly if that's what you're worried about." Ramsay said, tugging you along to an empty back corner table.

You sighed, glancing behind you to see your brother and his buddies already having drinks thrust at them, as well as tits.

Ramsay pulled you into his lap, running his fingers over the bare skin of your back.

Alyn brought over a tray of filled shot glasses and glanced around to find the rest of the party, stalking off to round them up.

Ramsay threw back two if the glasses, pulling you closer into him.

"I have a surprise for you, baby doll." He whispered, kissing along the back of your neck.

"Hm?" You asked, leaning further back into him.

"I can't tell you, or it won't be a surprise anymore." He murmured against your ear, grabbing your hips and pulling you closer still.

"I'll make you ruin these pants in you don't tell me." You countered, rubbing into him with your ass, as the rest of your group showed up.

Eli had a pretty brunette on his arm. She was dressed a bit more modestly. You weren't even sure she worked here.

"I'd make you run down your legs before you made me ruin my pants, baby girl." Ramsay chuckled, pushing his hips into you.

You would see about that.

Damon passed out the tray of shots, raising his own.

"Welcome to the city, boys!" He grinned, tipping his glass back.

You enjoyed the look of discomfort on Eli's face as the alcohol burned his throat.

They all put back multiple jello shots before finally getting pulled away from the table by women.

"Ah, ignorance is bliss. I give 'em an hour before it all hits 'em and I'm having to have them picked up off the ground." Alyn laughed, before leaving his seat.

Damon had led Charlotte over to a woman to dance with as he made off to find a drink.

"Now. What's my surprise?" You asked, turning around completely to face Ramsay, straddling him.

He ran his hand up your dress giving you that damn smirk to find you already wet.

"You'll just have to wait until Monday." He shrugged, running a finger over your wet folds.

"But Monday is so far from now, daddy. Can't I have just a tiny little hint?" You pouted, batting your lashes at him.

He shook his head, leaning forward to kiss you hungrily.

You kissed him back eagerly, grinding your hips against his to the music as your tongue explored his mouth.

His grip on your waist tightened as his other hand continued light movements against your folds.

You could feel your wetness escaping you. You were going to ruin this dress. But you would make your husband do the same. If you had to do the walk of shame, he was in it with you.

You took his bottom lip between your teeth, moaning as he finally slid his fingers inside you.

You arched your back, pushing into his hand, as he curled his fingers deep inside you, running his thumb across your sensitive spot.

You kissed along his jaw to his neck, worrying a rather sloppy hickey on him as you slid your hand down his pants and gripped him tightly, running your hand along him.

It was his turn to moan, as he canted his hips into you and aggressively put his lips on yours.

Your heart beat furiously in your chest and your body was warm and began to tingle. He wasn't going to stop. He was going to make you orgasm in this club, while your brother was around. It was an exciting thrill.

You leaned in to him, taking his ear between your teeth, "I want you, daddy. Fuck me please. I may die without feeling you. Make me scream."

You set the playing board. Who was going to lose first?

"Baby girl, you better slow down. We just got here. I haven't even taken you out to the floor to dance." He panted, pushing his hips into your hand as you gripped him tighter.

"What's my surprise?" You asked innocently.

Ramsay chuckled and kissed down your neck, to return the hickey you had given him.

You were quickly coming undone. And the bastard knew it as moved his fingers faster inside you, pushing and curling harder. He was breathing heavy against your ear that made you shiver and quake as the ache between your legs became over whelming. You had to have him inside you.

He always knew how to make you long for his cock instead of his hand. However he did it, he was a master at it. He could easily get you to cum with his hands and make it feel like heaven, but there was something he was capable of doing that sent desire washing over you, reminding you he could make you feel even better with his dick.

Maybe it wasn't what he did with his hands though, and how he canted his hips into you with you stroked his throbbing length. Gripping him as tight as you could, you could feel how hard he was, every throb, like it was begging to be inside you as you ran your thumb over the rather generous amount if precum collected at his tip.

"Fuck me, daddy." You panted, biting at his lip.

"If I fuck you now, I can't fuck you later." He panted back.

You ran your finger along the skin exposed under his shirt, wanting nothing more than to pull all the buttons free and run your nails over every taut muscle, every tattoo, every scar.

"Please?" You pouted.

Ramsay opened his mouth to speak, his most evil smirk in place when Alyn brought you crashing back to reality.

"Come on you two. You guys are worse than two horny teenagers in high school." Alyn chuckled, setting a cup down at the table.

Ramsay waved him away dismissively.

"Would if I could, Boss. But there's a man here wanting a word with you. Says it's important." Alyn said, crossing his arms and nodding across the room to an older gentleman you had never seen before.

Ramsay heaved an irritable sigh and nodded.

"I'll be over there in a minute."

Alyn nodded and left.

"Sorry baby." You said with a small pout and moan of protest as your husband pulled his fingers from you, and you removed your hand from his pants.

"Maybe it will be worth my while. If not, well, you're wearing the killing dress." He shrugged, sucking his fingers clean, sliding you from his lap, fixing himself in his pants, grabbing the cup of alcohol, and leaving you alone at the table.

You watched him cross the floor, tapping Charlotte on the shoulder and throwing his thumb back at you as he passed her and grabbing Damon by the elbow to go with him.

Charlotte came and sat beside you, "want a drink or something? They have water and soda."

"A carbonated drink of some sort would be fucking fantastic." You said, suddenly realizing how hot and thirsty you were.

Eli slid into the other seat beside you, a girl in his lap.

"Where's the husband?" He asked, smiling drunkenly at you.

You nodded across the room, watching Ramsay talk with his hands, Damon and the old man laughing.

"I like him. Seems like a good guy." Eli said, following your gaze.

Oh, if only he knew.

"He is very good to me. He makes me happy." You said, turning your gaze to your brother.

His face was flushed and he looked like he was having a good time; the girl in his lap toying with his hand.

"E, I want you to know that I'm sorry." You said, guilt filling you just as it had done at your parents when you were talking with your parents.

Eli shook his head, "No, (y/n). There's no need. I was hurt when you left. You hurt us all. But it wasn't until I left home that I understood. You would have drowned in that town. You were too good to be trapped at home. And when I saw you this morning, any anger I had at you just vanished. You're happy, and that makes me happy. You have a perfect little life."

You gave a feeble smile at your little brother as Charlotte set a cup down in front of you and resumed her seat.

"Thank you." You smiled at her.

"No problem sweetheart. Any idea who that man is?" She said, watching Damon and Ramsay.

"No idea." You shrugged, sipping your drink. "So how are you and Damon? We never really get to talk."

"Oh, we're good. Nothing overly exciting." She shrugged.

"Is he good to you?"

Charlotte nodded, "Oh yeah. Couldn't be better. Honest."

You weren't sure if she was lying or not, but she had stuck around longer than the last one. Maybe he did like her. She got up and left, as some woman asked her to dance. Maybe she enjoyed the company of women and that was why Damon kept her?

You turned back to Eli as his two friends came and sat at the table. They too were extremely flushed in the face and looked beyond trashed.

"So, how's the military life?" You asked, resting your elbow on the table.

"Shit." Kilpatrick said with a sage nod.

"It has its perks, but... almost not worth it." Eli shrugged.

"How long have you three been friends?" You asked, glancing between the three.

"Wilson and I have been battles since basic. We met Kilpatrick when we got stationed overseas." You brother said grinning at the two.

"Time to take them home." Ramsay said, resting his hand on your shoulder.

You glanced up at your husband, "everything okay?"

He gave a nod, "yep. But I'm ready to get home."

"Okay, baby." You said, standing.

"Y'all go on. We can call a cab. I'm a big boy now, sis. I don't need a babysitter anymore." Eli said, standing and giving you a tight hug. "Congratulations on the baby by the way."

"Thank you. I'm afraid for him or her, you being their uncle." You giggled, hugging him back. "You sure you boys will be okay?"

"Not our first rodeo." Wilson said, raising a glass at you.

You nodded, lacing your fingers in Ramsay's.

You didn't speak until you stepped out into the cold night air.

"What's wrong baby?" You asked, as the limo driver opened the door for you. "Who was that man?"

"Nothing is wrong. Have someone to find. That man, he is from the Iron Bank." Ramsay said sitting heavily beside you.

"Iron Bank?" You asked, furrowing your brows in question.

"Just like we all have the same code of honor, we deal with the same company to handle our money so it can't be tracked. The Bank is out of country and they see to us all. Big players like us, and smaller less organized families and groups. We pay them nicely to keep our millions safe and out of the eye of nosy people." Ramsay said, toying with the ring on your finger.

"So, what were they doing here?" You asked, staring out the window.

"When people don't pay them, things get ugly. They have their own group of assassin's to take out those who can't afford to pay back or double cross or whatever. But sometimes the people they need to put an end to aren't big enough to get their assassin's involved. So they come to a local family for help. I'm very good at what I do baby girl. So they've asked me to find said person and end him. He's gone into hiding, so I need to find him and bring him up to scratch."

"Who?" You asked, looking back at your husband.

"I'm not sure yet. The details will be sent to me shortly." He shrugged, lighting a cigarette.

"So, what's my surprise?" You prompted, hoping to catch him offguard into telling you.

"You'll find out Monday afternoon after your appointment." He smirked.

You rolled your eyes, crossed your arms, and let out a huffy sigh, falling back into the leather seat.

[oddcoupler222]

okay, you literally asked for another longass post:

So, Madelyn is the oldest daughter to a gay head of state, and even though she's Sansa's biological daughter, her personality is so Margaery that it is almost frightening. She's Marg -- but even more outspoken and sometimes less diplomatic, because she has no designs on politics, so speaking her mind is somewhat of her status quo

Growing up, she wasn't the most popular. She wasn't *un*popular, either; she's wealthy, pretty, smart, and outgoing. but her mothers being who they are meant that anyone who has an issue with them in anyway didn't care for them, people have routinely thought that she gets it easier in life, and she's always sort of weary for people who want to get to know her and use her for who her moms are (it has happened. more than once.)

Anyway. So, coming out as bi was somewhat difficult for her, BECAUSE of Sansa and Margaery. Not because she was ashamed or anything, but because for the people who opposed Marg, a big part of them being against the Gays, you know, was about like, making children gay and being deviant and stuff. So, she didn't want to "prove" them right in any way. But regardless, her coming out was somewhat of a spectacle to the public. In college, she was dating a girl, who ended up making it public without her permission, and it was all over the media (this is somewhat of a side note into Ellie and Amelia's story. As in, Ellie kissed Amelia shortly after this happened, and worrying about Ellie having to face a public fallout the way she was watching Madelyn do was a factor into her gently turning her down)

So, anyway. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, and Madelyn squared her shoulders and did the interviews and whatnot about her sexuality. But her walls went up more than a bit after that

She graduated from college and then law school, and unlike Ellie, who left King's Landing asap, Madelyn does love it there, and stays there and close to the moms as she makes a life for herself, working her way up at a prestigious law firm -- Madelyn puts a LOT of expectation on herself. Part of "I'm Margaery Tyrell's daughter" and a need to project herself as perfectly and put together as possible

That expectation also comes into her love life. Because she wants to settle down and to find her person, and sees her parents as like the golden standard to aspire to

So... her Future Love of Her Life comes into play also years earlier than they get together. At her firm, which she joins when she's 24 and already a boss ass bitch, there's a guy a couple years older than she is, who ends up being her nemesis at work. Olivar Florent, who - if able to vote when Marg was PM - wouldn't have voted for her. He’s an entitled jackass, who often talks shit about Madelyn and has like a complex about her. He also makes comments about her sexuality and believes she gets things easier because of her who mom is (when, a lot of the time, it has meant she's had to work twice as hard, esp at this job). They also are always competing for the same promotions and cases

When Madelyn first meets him, he's married to Emma, who is a couple years older than Madelyn as well, and is a decent enough presence around the office. Not that the two of them ever get along, really. She's not a Jackass like Olivar is, but she's married to him, which makes Madelyn already weary of her. Though, she sends baked goods to the office and is always at the office parties and whatnot. Even though - as Amelia will tease her over the years - Emma is physically her office crush (because she is Gorgeous and quietly witty), their only interactions over the years are short, often tense/charged conversations and she somewhat feels that Emma has something against her (which she assumes is the same shit that Olivar does)

Cut to Madelyn, age 35. She's been at the firm for 11 years, is kicking ass at work. She has the best moms in the world (her own words), a sister and a best friend who are together and who she loves both enough to kill for, and a baby niece. And... she's lonely af. As Sansa's daughter, she has a romantic soul, which led her into several romantic pursuits, and always ends up getting her heart broken. The last one of these had almost led to an engagement, but that got called off by the woman in question, who went on a diatribe about Madelyn somehow being Too Much but also Not Enough, and even though it was a couple of years ago, she's sort of soured on this whole trying to open her heart kind of thing

Now, on the other side of matters - about a year or two ago, Olivar got caught out cheating on Emma, and they separated. It was a huge thing for office gossip, and ever since then, of course, Emma hasn't been around the office. The one thing about Olivar that Madelyn DOES like, is his daughter. Alyssa, who's 13 and precocious af. And whenever he has the day with her, he usually ends up working and having her sit around in the office (because he's a shitty dad), and Madelyn always lets her sit in her office (where she has some Cool Stuff, knick knacks and stuff, and she talks to her like "an adult" - not like actually bringing up Grown Up topics, but, you know - and orders her lunch and stuff).

Their story would begin as such - Madelyn is coming into her office, and who is standing there but... Emma.

And she's confused, like... "I know it's been a while since you've been around here, but, Olivar's office is still a floor down from here." And Emma takes a deep breath and gathers her strength and, "I know. But I came to see you." Madelyn's eyes narrow and she's intrigued, and gives her a questioning look. Emma looks nervous, which - she's known her/seen her around for a decade, and she's never seen her fidget or look anything other than calm, so it’s strange with her all like, "I'm sorry I don't have an appointment. I... I just. I was wondering if we could talk." and she looks around the office, still nervous. So Madelyn nods and lets her in and is all, "I'm aware we don't know one another all that well. But, are you all right?" Emma blurts out that she wants to hire Madelyn as her divorce lawyer.

Madelyn is SHOCKED, because well, they've hardly spoken and never gotten along all that well when they have aside from a handful of surprising moments over the years (including one very memorable time in which they were caught under mistletoe at an office holiday party and Madelyn laughed it off, rolling her eyes at her somewhat drunk coworkers, but Emma had been -- just staring at her. Her mouth, specifically. Madelyn had tentatively put her hand on her elbow to murmur to ignore everyone, and it had jolted Emma out of her stare. And basically had her avoiding the office for a few months).

Plus, "You two aren't divorced?" Because they've been separated for almost 2 years now, as far as she knows. And Emma is biting at the inside of her cheek, because she has trouble being super open with a lot of people, especially after having been in a marriage with someone who is domineering and rude and loud and controlling. But she sighs and confesses that Olivar has been fighting against actually getting a divorce ever since she moved out, and has been doing everything in his disposal to stop her from proceeding, and she is sick of it. BUT Olivar has a lot of money (she was a stay at home wife/mother, before), he comes from a prestigious family, and has a LOT of legal/political connections, and he isn’t afraid to make threats about custody or lord anything over her head, so it's been a very difficult time for her

Madelyn is still surprised, and is all, "Why me?" Bc over the years, Emma would have basically known everyone at the lawfirm. But Emma tells her that she knows she's at least as good of a lawyer, if not better, than Olivar is, because of the amount of issues she'd caused him. And she knows she is outspoken and not afraid to lay a smack down when needed (paraphrasing), and... she bites her lip but has a gleam in her eye that Madelyn enjoys when she says that she knows Madelyn wouldn't be afraid to take a case that is going against Olivar, because she knows how much she dislikes him and how much they don't get along. And Madelyn takes it in, nodding, because, Emma's not wrong. Plus, she can imagine the look on Olivar's face when he finds out, and - yeah, she likes that

And thus, a deal is struck.

They start meeting up after that - out of the office, at Madelyn's suggestion, because the less Olivar sees them and could find out about what they talk about/their plans, the better. So, they start meeting up and getting coffees at the cafe that Emma is working in (which she is embarrassed about, explaining to Madelyn on one of her breaks, after being somewhat standoffish, because she's a 37 year old woman who spent the majority of her adult life relying on her husband to pay for everything and now she's worried and struggling. Emma and Olivar met when they were in college, and even though she graduated with an art history degree, she has never done anything with it/has little experience because of him not wanting her to work, and they got married at like 23).

Madelyn takes it all in, Emma’s flushed cheeks and mutterings about calling herself an idiot for being in that situation, her fidgeting - before she slides her hand across the table and onto Emma’s. Which makes her cheeks darken and she stares down at Madelyn’s hand on hers, before looking up at her while Madelyn tells her that anyone could have gotten swept up when they were young and being trapped in a bad situation isn’t her fault. And that her aunt worked in a cafe for a long while in her adult years, and that she admires her work ethic. Before she realizes - okay, maybe Emma had in the past had a discomfort about her sexuality, and she drops her hand.

Spurring Emma into action and she tries to talk about paying Madelyn, laying out a financial plan (because she knows that there is no way Madelyn doesn't make a ton of money from her clients, since she remembers how much Olivar makes), Madelyn tells her to pay her in coffee, unable to hold back a little wink

So, they start to bond over the next couple of months, learning about one another, bit by bit. Madelyn brings her work out of the office sometimes when she doesn’t have to, setting up shop in the coffee shop. Talking on her breaks. They end up catching the end of a documentary that’s airing on a television in the cafe one day, one made about Margaery and thus features Madelyn heavily, and Madelyn surprises herself by sighing at it. Emma watching her carefully and saying that Madelyn made all of it, with all of the pressure, look very easy, and Madelyn pushes through a smile and they talk. Emma opens up a bit about how the few days Olivar does get to have Alyssa, she worries about her, and that they are typically the days she goes to see her mother in the care facility she is in, as she has dementia, and it’s just... a lot.

Emma is still a bit reserved around Madelyn, though she doesn't know exactly why. The moments where they share smiles and then Emma will clear her throat and look away or suddenly need to get back to doing something at that given moment. This only kind of changes over a month in, when they are meeting at Emma's apartment for the first time, and Alyssa is there and sees Madelyn and gets super excited and they talk a bit about what's going on for her school project. And Emma is ?? confused... until Alyssa shrugs it off and tells her that she hangs out in Madelyn's office whenever she's had to go to Olivar's work, basically for years, even when they were married.

But that sort of really starts breaking through the reserve she has remaining, because Madelyn is just almost maddeningly lovely. It’s a bit scary

Olivar comes to drop something off (and rage about the divorce papers he's just been served, which had been why Madelyn had stopped by to drop off a “celebratory gift” for the papers being served -- she kind of already has this actual crush going on), and sees Madelyn there, which only makes him more pissed. And then ANGRIER when Alyssa purposefully implies that Madelyn and Emma are a little something-something more

Madelyn goes along with it at the time, because, well, she hates the man and it’s so very far from the worst thing she could imagine... but when Olivar leaves, she apologizes. Especially because she has always thought her sexuality/her moms has played into Emma's reservedness around her

But Emma is sort of frozen and blushing and eventually admits that it's okay (and now... gods, she has Thoughts).

But that sparked a Thing, and now around the office, it's going around the Madelyn is not only defending Emma against Olivar in their divorce, but also that they are dating. Which she keeps up as a facade, even though she knows she SHOULDN'T. This, of course, leads to a Fake Kiss That Feels Real, of course, and then after that is when Emma admits that she isn't exactly straight, which was a very confusing revelation for her, which also caused a big thing between her and Olivar and is something he has threatened to use against her in the divorce if she ever went through with it. (and she admits that a part of why she'd always been so distant toward Madelyn is because she was always SO unapologetically herself and outspoken about who she was and about supporting her moms and Emma (especially when she and Madelyn first met) was intimidated by that, and tbh pretty nervous because she was (and is) attracted to Madelyn, like everything about her) [also, she might have secretly had the magazine article from when Madelyn came out when she was in college for a long time, because it was like a celeb-fantasy-crush, when she was first feeling like she might not have been straight]

They get even closer, like... Madelyn doesn’t even know. Almost dating? Sort of? They’ve had some more moments since the kiss, and she knows without a doubt how much she wants Emma. Emma meets Sansa and Marg, and winds up getting a job at a museum that Sansa gets her an interview at. Emma is thrilled that Alyssa and Madelyn are so close and also admits that a lot of what had put her off of Madelyn, aside from her sexuality and everything I already said, was that Olivar would often say things about her that were entirely unflattering, but she sees now that they were all super untrue and that Madelyn is actually... pretty dreamy. Featuring a lovely moment wherein Olivar sees Madelyn and Alyssa and Emma at one of the office parties (because Madelyn told them to come as they were "dating" in the eyes of everyone else at the office), and when he makes a threat to Emma about taking away custody, about her being gay, about all of the connections he has, Madelyn stepping in and being like, "You think you have connections? I'd like to see you even try. Actually, I would love it. Really."

Which... Emma is... well how can she even try to resist that? (she cant)

And when they go home from that night, they sleep together, and thus, the lines get blurred and it feels so thrilling but so messy. Madelyn starts worrying about not being good for them and that she is really overstepping in their lives, plus she starts to have some trouble at the firm (because Olivar has one of the partners essentially tied around his finger) and this is causing "unnecessary tension" and when Emma finds that out, she doesn't want to complicate Madelyn's life and decides that they shouldn't be doing this

Which cues a few lonely weeks, as the divorce really sets in motion, and Madelyn has a chat with Margaery about living up to expectation and being perfect. She misses Emma and Alyssa - who also miss her quite a bit.

But then in the end, Madelyn quits her job and goes to another firm that has been after her for years. Slightly less prestigious, but better - morally - and she goes to represent Emma, who is shocked that she came, given how their big fight went when she fired her. And then, naturally, comes the big confessions of actual feelings, and Madelyn might have felt like she is either too much or never enough and that she needs to be perfect, but she really is pretty perfect for this little family

[kateofthecanals]

For The (Not)Watch: Episode 7.2

Exposition Theatre Presents...

Apologies for the lateness of this recap, I assume many of these topics have already been covered elsewhere, but I have things to say nonetheless!!! The episode was far from the worst, though far from the best. Inoffensive for the most part and even included some rather nice moments (if you ignore the broader context... so, you know, the usual). Let’s start at the beginning...

It was a dark and stormy night. Tyrion was regaling the Dragon Queen about the circumstances of her own birth, which was a treacherous omen of things to come. Dany and Varys then decide to have a conversation that should have happened before he had even stepped aboard her ferry to Dragonstone. She confronts him about plotting to assassinate her back in Season 1 and he’s just like “whaddayagonnado?” and she makes him swear that he’ll actually tell her she sucks before actually betraying her. I’m sure that’ll work out swell. Varys assures her...

And Tyrion vouches for Varys because he’s “an excellent judge of character.”

Then Grey Worm has some kinda psychic episode and suddenly jumps in to tell Dany that Melisandre is in da house to say welcome to the neighborhood. Dany is cool with her being there because apparently the red priests helped bring “peace” to Meereen (really? when did that happen?) and Mel starts speaking to Dany in High Valyrian.

**We interrupt this program to bring you a prophecy that should have been mentioned 7 seasons ago. Had D&D realized this was actually an important plot point, they would have seeded it earlier. We now return to your regularly scheduling programming.**

Dany’s bummed that she’s not the Prince That Was Promised because she’s not a “prince”, then Missandei interrupts to tell Dany, WHOSE FIRST LANGUAGE IS HIGH VALYRIAN, that her interpretation of the prophecy is wrong -- the PTWP is totes gender-neutral, y’all! Mel won’t confirm or deny if Dany is the PTWP because even she is apparently skeptical of her own bullshit; instead she just tells Dany that she NEEDS to hook up with this cat Jon Snow, who “defeated” the Boltons and became “King in the North”. Dany’s like...

So is Tyrion, tbh. He jumps in and vouches for Jon too (remember, Excellent Judge of Character!) and because Dany has no opinions or thoughts of her own and can’t even properly translate her own mother tongue, she’s like okay cool, send a raven to Jon (where did they get ravens?).

Well, it must have been a FedEx Express Overnight™ raven cuz we cut immediately to Winterfell where Jon is already reading Tyrion’s letter. Sandra questions whether or not it’s really Tyrion but Jon says it’s legit because he included a Book Quote from the first season. And even though Jon got to know Tyrion pretty well on their journey to the Wall, he decides to be Condescending Ally and asks Sandra her opinion. Sandra then fulfills her “Tyrion’s such a nice guy!” quota for the season before Davos strolls up to finally deliver some dialogue. He has a “eureka” moment when he realizes that dragons can kill white walkers. Jon asks if he thinks he should meet with Dany as she Tyrion requested, and Davos says no, it’s too dangerous, but they should keep that shit in their back pocket for future consideration...

Then we hop to King’s Landing... Side Note: not only do all the main female characters dress alike this season, they all sound alike too. Seriously, watch these first three scenes with your eyes closed -- they all sound exactly the same!

Anyway, Cersei is in the throne room addressed Randyll “What Sword?” Tarly and some leftover Tyrells to try and convince him to join her cause against Dany, and Randyll doesn’t seem at all bothered by being ordered around by a woman. (So, I guess it’s cool for Arya and Brienne to be retconned as misogynists, but actual canon misogynists like Randyll Tarly are suddenly super cooperative and tolerant? Okay.) Cersei then starts throwing mad shade at Dany and her dad: “You remember the Mad King and the horrors he inflicted on his people...” <-- says the woman who literally did the thing that Jaime KILLED Aerys for only THREATENING to do. At this point, I began to wonder if it was actually common knowledge that Cersei blew up the sept; I guess there’s some plausible deniability, but Cersei herself doesn’t exactly seem like she has anything to hide in that regard...

After the meeting breaks up, Jaime takes Randyll aside and introduces himself to Dickon, who seems to be played by a new actor now. (BTW, how many times do you think D&D giggled like 10-year-olds at the name “Dick-On”?) Jaime questions why they even came, and Randyll says, “If my queen summons me, I answer the call. And I’ve heard what she does to those who defy her.” Which answers my question above -- he DOES know about the sept. Yet, just like kinslaying and Guest Right, terrorism is just NBD anymore. Randyll then waffles in his allegiance to Cersei and Olenna Tyrell, and I’m just.... Please. If Olenna, who is not even a Tyrell by blood, was really the only Tyrell left, do you REALLY think Randyll wouldn’t bounce at the first opportunity?? Then Jaime makes Randyll an offer he can’t refuse (Warden of the South) because the King’s Landing plot is basically The Godfather now.

Down at the Citadel, Archmaester Slughorn has a terminal prognosis for Jorah and he suggests that he just fall on his sword and get it over with. Jorah, I assume, is too busy wondering how he’s gonna make sweet love to Khaaleeesiiii with a stone wang...

Then we jump back to KL where Qyburn and Cersei are taking a little stroll through the dungeons where the dragon skulls are. Cersei says that Robert would come down there sometimes to look at them, or to band random whores, which seems extremely unlikely since Robert had an aneurysm every time the Targaryens were even mentioned. Cersei questions how they’re actually gonna be able to defeat Dany’s dragons, and Arnold Qyburnegger insists that “If it bleeds, we can kill it.” He then reveals his TOP SECRET MASTER PLAN!!! A really big crossbow. Somewhere Daryl Dixon just got the most massive boner...

Then we’re back on Dragonstone where Yara and Ellaria are yelling at Dany to just attack Dragonstone now while they have the opportunity and the forces. Tyrion’s all, “I got this, babe” and proceeds to lay out Dany’s plan for Dany (is it even Dany’s plan?), because why should the supposed leader and aspiring Queen be the one to give her troops their marching orders herself? The few lines she did have were just direct quotes from Tyrion. Anyway, Dany Tyrion tells Yara to escort Ellaria back to Dorne for some reason I don’t remember and I couldn’t help but wonder why they didn’t think of this before dragging Ellaria and Olenna all the way to Dragonstone just to send them back south again. BTW, D&D thought this scene was super Feminist because 4 women were in one scene together. I’m not making that up...

Then Dany and Olenna have a one-on-one in which Olenna delivers the first meme of Season 7: “You’re a dragon! Be a dragon!” T-shirts are now available in the HBO store. (Yes, I’m serious.)

We then take a break from “Game of Thrones” to bring you a very special episode of “As the Grey Worm Turns”. So, blah blah blah, Missandei visits Grey Worm in his quarters, whines about him leaving, he calls her his “weakness”, kisses her, she immediately disrobes -- seriously, that shit came off QUICK like

...and then he goes down on her. SIGH okay look... Yes, it was a lovely scene in and of itself, and I know this was D&D’s attempt at something “sweet” for a change, and YES it was the first CONSENSUAL sex scene we’ve gotten since, what, Season 3? But here’s the problem... First of all, there are so many other actual CANON romances in ASOIAF that have gone completely or virtually unexplored on this show, so for them to just invent this “romance” between a eunuch and a character who is actually supposed to 10 just feels utterly inane. Let’s be honest, guys, this scene happened for 2 reasons: (A) they wanted to see Nathalie Emmanuel naked again, and (B) penises are for sexual assault and comic relief ONLY on this show.

So, back at the Citadel, Slughorn is droning on about one thing or another when Sam says he found a couple of recorded cases of greyscale being cured, but Sluggy says don’t believe the hype because the procedure is too dangerous and risky and was outlawed. But... you guys... greyscale is like Westerosi AIDS, so even if the procedure is “risky”, don’t you think it’s worth maybe EXPLORING at the very least??? Anyway, I’m sure you can already guess what’s gonna happen next...

Yes, Sam sneaks into Jorah’s quarters with an assortment of paraphernalia, and the same dude who spent a solid 5 minutes last episode dry-heaving over some turds has suddenly decided he’s now Doogie Howser. He offers Jorah some rum to drink to dull the pain, since apparently milk of the poppy was outlawed while we weren’t looking, and it turns out that the cure for greyscale is to just scrape it off like an old paint job. Huh.

BTW, what the hell is with this new obsession with juxtaposing bodily fluids with food all of a sudden?? New fetish?? Anyway, that pie looked AMAZING. We’re not at what I assume is the Inn at the Crossroads where Arya is chilling waiting for her meal, special delivered by Iron Chef Hot Pie! She begins to eat and drink like a pig in the manner of her soulmate The Hound and makes a joke about baking one or two pies (BECAUSE SHE’S THE MARIE CALLENDER OF MURDER PIES GET IT); there’s also another brief reference to Briennebowl (sigh). Turns out, even fucking Hot Pie knows about Cersei blowing up the sept, ffs. He also knows something else that, for some reason, Arya doesn’t -- that the Starks took back Winterfell from the Boltons. Arya is SHOOK and frankly so am I because she spent 2 whole weeks at the Twins and NO ONE mentioned this?? Even the Lannister soldiers from last episode never brought it up?? Anyway, Arya’s like “oh shit I gotta go” and Hot Pie tells her that he prefers her as a girl because she’s “pretty” and OH how I wish she would have gotten more of a reaction from that, but then again this is GoT where only “idiot” girls would respond to being called pretty... When she leaves the inn, she hangs a louie north instead of south, having decided to keep her murdering more local.

This actually wasn’t that bad a scene, to be honest. I liked how Arya looked genuinely detached as she casually made references to murders she committed or would be committing... and then how she completely snaps out of it when she hears that Jon is in Winterfell. I think the success of this scene rests solely on Maisie’s shoulders though.

Speaking of WF, we then cut to Jon who is doing the thing where the scene opens on someone just staring blankly at a map. Maester Whatshisnameagain comes in to deliver Sam’s raven, cuz the Citadel is cheap as fuck and only uses UPS Ground. We then IMMEDIATELY jump to another council meeting where Jon announces Sam’s “news” that Dragonstone is lousy with dragonglass, and that this info has confirmed his decision to answer Dany’s Tyrion’s summons after all. And because Jon can NEVER seem to clue Sandra in on his plans BEFORE meetings, he blindsides her once again, prompting her to ONCE AGAIN speak up in defiance. Yes, it’s all just lame, manufactured, forced tension on D&D’s part, and what makes it even more infuriating is that it frames Sandra as a brat Every. Time. Though, in this case, everyone else in the room seems to agree with her, including Feminist Icon™ Lyanna Mormont -- Jon is their King and should NOT abandon them when winter is upon them. Jon’s like, “Hey YOU guys are the ones who wanted me to be KiTN, I never asked for it!” Which is a super cool thing to say in front of the rightful heir whose claim you stole. But hey, all is forgiven I guess when Jon oh-so generously declares that he’s leaving WF in Sansa’s hands while he’s gone. Hey, I kidnapped your child, would you mind babysitting for me for a bit? So, basically Jon abandons the North like he did the Night’s Watch, and aren’t we so glad that Sansa’s claim was completely ignored in favor of this super reliable dipshit?

Before he leaves, Jon ducks down into the crypts to meditate in front of Ned’s effigy when Littlefucker rolls up on him like a creep and Jon’s just OVER IT before it’s even begun...

LF then declares that he “loves” Sandra (cue every puking gif ever), and Jon immediately knocks his gross ass into the wall and tells him he’ll kill him if he ever touches his sister. Frankly, LF seemed kinda into it... ;-P

Jon then leaves and mounts his horse, waving goodbye to Sandra from her permanent perch on the walkway, and she’s all

Out in the woods, Arya’s building a fire when she notices her horse acting freaked out. She suddenly finds herself surrounded by VERY BAD BOYS snarling and growling at her when a huge figure comes up behind her and then...

Yeah, I admit it, I straight up cried seeing Arya and Nymeria together again. Of course, this is GoT, though, and we can’t have nice things, so it was shortlived. Yes, in the grand tradition of D&D reintroducing forgotten characters just to kill off/get rid of them again, I present: NYMERIA. So I went from tears to rage in less than a minute. These fucking assholes are more concerned about $$$$ than the VERY CRUCIAL FACT that the Stark kids are bonded to their wolves FOR LIFE and are GODDAMN WARGS, period. I hate them so much.

The next scene was filmed through a dirty coffee filter and I couldn’t see a damn thing, but horrible accents + cattiness = must be the Sand Snakes! Oh joy! I dunno what those fucking accents were; they sounded like fucking Apollonia when she first learned English, and I wanted to kill myself. Things just got worse from there when we jumped to another part of the ship (oh yeah, we’re on a ship btw) where Ellaria and Yara are cozying up to each other in front of Theon and begin to taunt him by feeling each other up and MAN I can’t wait for these bitches to die. The gropefest is mercifully interrupted then by the ship getting rammed, and they all run outside to see Euron’s sails in the firelight. Euron Both-Hands himself then makes one helluva entrance before getting down to some good ol’ murderin’. It’s a complete clusterfuck that’s not very well lit but I could see enough to know that he killed Obara and Nym...

PRO TIP: If you’re trying to establish the next big villain on your show, don’t have him kill off 2 of the most universally despised characters.

Not surprisingly, they spare Ellaria and Tyene “Bad Pussy” Sand (AKA the one Sand Snake most willing to take her top off), meanwhile Euron and Yara face off against one another. Euron gets the upper hand and is holding a knife to Yara’s throat as he calls to Theon. Theon looks back and forth between his shitperson sister and his psychopath uncle and decides mmmmmm NOPE

I’ve seen plenty of people criticizing Theon for this, and I think it’s utter bullshit. Like, I honestly believe that scene was intended to show us that Theon was still highly traumatized and triggered in that moment, much like Sandor during the Blackwater. I do not think that we, as viewers, were meant to look at that and come away thinking that Theon was being shitty or a coward. BUT HERE’S THE THING: you cannot spend 6 seasons conditioning your audience to believe that experiencing genuine trauma is a “weakness” or “foolish” and then expect everyone to be all cool and understanding when you suddenly decide to go for “realism”. Especially when last season featured a scene in which Yara told Theon to either get over it or just kill himself and it was framed as LEGITIMATELY GOOD ADVICE (which D&D even confirmed as such)!! So yeah, a retcon in which Theon’s trauma is addressed in a very logical and meaningful way is obviously going to receive backlash. This is the same show where Sansa had to be raped in order to be “strong”, so clearly a male character who’s experienced similar trauma should just “get over it” too, right? THAT is the lesson GoT is teaching its viewers, so it stands to reason that they would revolt when a character has a genuine PTSD episode. Not to mention the fact that Yara totally did not deserve Theon’s help or protection after the way she had treated him. Not to mention how SHE left HIM behind with Ramsay!! And later blamed HIM for it! Shit, I would leave her ass too. So, yeah, this scene was, I believe, intended to show that, no, Theon is NOT over it, because yelling at someone to just stop being sad about their trauma is not a magical cure. But it’s too late for this show to try and be sensitive about these sorts of things, because your viewers have been programmed NOT to accept it. So the one time D&D&Co choose to be authentic, it falls on deaf ears. No surprise there.

Quite a note to end on, for sure. Next week looks to be more of the same, so I’m stocking up on Red Bull now...

[theowlsarenotwhattheyremembers]

Episode Two: Stormborn

The attitude towards killing off characters here before they actually get to do anything interesting invites reflection of the terrible aptness of the gamer term ‘wasted’ to refer to a death.

But reader let us begin at the beginning.

Scene 1: The weather in winter-has-come Westeros is miserable, and Daenerys is cabin feverish in her new storm-whipped angular rock palace. She has a go at Varys for his key role in the plot to assassinate her in season one, which initially is awkward but then he gets self-righteous and delivers a speech about being the People’s Spook which wins over everyone’s hearts and minds again.

Honestly the Khaleesei has such a dream team around her, it makes me feel anxious. When is a traitor / assassin / magic monster / other issue going to arise and sneeze on everyone’s dessert? Probably soon and also to an extent in this very episode, the snake being that penis Euron.

Then they all go into the throne room and Melisandre is standing there between Daenerys and the throne!

It’s like Melisandre is receiving Daenerys in the throne room and not the other way around, which is very awkward and seems like it could be foreshadowing about the Red Priestesses getting out of hand like Cersei’s Sparrows? Tbh I am also concerned about the Dothraki too who hardly seem likely to bring harmony to Westeros, devoted as they are to rape and pillage. Could the Dothraki be persuaded to settle down as gentle farmspeople of the Reach? This seems unlikely. Yet mass deporting them back to the steppe seems neither feasible nor fair on everyone else who lives there, who are probably now entering into an unprecedented age of peace, prosperity and cultural flourishing. Daenerys is a magical dragon queen and Varys and Tyrion are the best statecrafters in Westeros probably, but are their skills a match for the religious fire witches of Asshai AND the Dothraki AND the Army of the Dead AND all of Westeros’ more standard-issue intractable problems? We will find out, but for now Melisandre substantially moves the plot along by telling Daenerys that she absolutely must meet this northern hunk Jon Snow. “Sounds like quite a man,” says Daenerys, probably filling the tall sails of Dany/Jon fantasists with merry gusting hope; but, further to my concerns about Daenerys’ already too dreamy team, plus how boring Skyrim is once you reach high levels, I hope your sails turn to rags sorry. Game of Thrones is about the joy of not getting what you want. There is no point complaining. Melisandre understands that more is less so doesn’t mention anything at all about Jon apart from some vague stuff about the prince/ss who was promised and wildlings and so on. 

Daenerys says she’ll send Jon an invitation to visit and “bend the knee,” confirming the sinking feeling everyone had when we all heard those fatefully inconvenient words, “the King in the North”: good for the morale of people who live too far north to be comfortable / clean most of the time; bad for every other objective.

Scene 2: Jon, Sansa and Davos are already reading Daenarys’ letter, because this plot waits for no raven. Davos, genius of his age, notes the radiantly obvious fact that fire-breathing dragons will be of great use against an army of ice demons who only die by means of 1. rare materials and 2. fire. They all agree that Jon actually going and securing the dragons to save the world would be too dangerous, however.

Scene 3: Cersei lists an array of tediously one-sided facts about Daenerys’ atrocity record to date, larded with some unnecessary racism. The sanctimonious southern lords assembled all duly listen in prim horror. Jaime tries to poach Sam’s dad from the Tyrells using more racism, a good strategy with Sam’s dad.

Scene 4: Jorah’s grayscale is looking absolutely terrible. 

The Archmaester scolds him for not cutting off his own arm immediately, but because he’s an aristocrat gives him the opportunity to commit suicide before shipping him off to a decade or so of frenzied madness in Valyria. Westerosi best practice of sending crazed grayscale victims off to roam the wilderness seems questionable from an epidemiological perspective, but what do I know.

Scene 5: Creepy kindly wrongun Qyburn shows Cersei his new spear-crossbow, and impresses her by getting her to shoot it at a centuries-old, already-cracked dragon skull, against which it works wonderfully effectively.

How punchably excited Joffrey would be if he was alive! His mum looks quite pleased too.

Scene 6: Tyrion explains to the Southern and Western Ladies of Westeros how this war is going to go. They’re going to do a hearts-and-minds war with minimal use of foreigners in key optics locations, thereby preserving the country as something more than ashes (Daenerys repeats a line here about being queen of the ashes that Tyrion used earlier). Tyrion is saving the Dothraki to pillage his own ancestral seat! What a guy. Olenna points out that the hearts-and-minds strategy didn’t work out for Maergery, something I too am yet to process emotionally. In a one-on-one Olenna counsels Daenerys that war is permanent and to ignore clever men. Thanks Olenna!

Scene 7: Missandei and Grey Worm, two extremely emotionally scarred yet preternaturally attractive young things, share a scene whose tenderness is am I right in saying unrivalled in GoT history? Grey Worm’s lines about Missandei being his weakness are not what anyone used to talking to people in informal settings would call smooth, but this poor young man is like 75% scar tissue, and anyway Missandei calls him on it and refuses to take “you know what I mean” for an answer. She has prepared for this moment by wearing a dress you can undo by pulling a cord, and after pushing Grey Worm to develop greater levels of emotional literacy they go to bed and have a fulfilling experience together despite their tragic pasts and Grey Worm’s absent genitals. In fact,

"Sir Richard Burton, in his travels, wrote about the eunuchs of Mecca and talked about them being sexually active with their wives. When we had the rise of the Italian castrati, who were castrated usually between the ages of 10 and 12, we have a number of them attempting to marry, and a legal brief from the Church in 1718 said that they shouldn’t be allowed to because eunuchs are too tempting to women. ‘They are more esteemed by lewd women because they can give them all the satisfaction without any risk or danger of pregnancy.’"

The scene is extremely affecting good god

Scene 8: Is that Missandei’s hand grasping a bedpost no it’s the Archmaester getting a badly written history book off the shelves what is wrong with you. The Archmaester is going to write A Record of the Wars Following the Death of King Robert Baratheon, First of His Name. Sam suggests a more “poetic” title. This scene is further confirmation of the fan theory that Sam wrote A Song of Ice and Fire.

Sam says he can maybe cure Jorah, the Archmaester tells him he can’t without probably catching greyscale. We cut to Jorah writing a suicide letter to Daenerys, but then Sam comes around with a trolleyful of hope and crude surgical equipment, and goes ahead and very kindly and politely peels off Jorah’s skin. Sam, is there not a facemask in the Citadel? After the Archmaester’s warning this seems excessively rash and virulent pus eye squirting seems extremely probable.

Scene 9: The show’s cruel hatred for the viewer at home is confirmed by this cut. 

But Game of Thrones forgiveness springs eternal in this recapper’s heart - look, there’s Hotpie!

The appearance of her homely old friend, together with his revelation that Winterfell is Stark again and Jon Snow is its king, gets those unending hope jets spurting too: maybe Arya’s life could end up not being entirely unremittingly without friendship, solace, love? 

Scene 10: Jon immediately scotches our reunion at Winterfell hopes by making the sensible decision to leave for Dragonstone after all in. He also makes the sensible decision to leave Sansa in charge of the north, which I guess she looks okay with? King in the North is a bit of a poisoned chalice to be passing on and he did just say he neither wanted it nor asked for it.

Then Littlefinger goes down to annoy Jon while he’s attempting some quiet reflection at Ned’s grave. To Littlefinger, Jon says: “you don’t belong down here”, “I have nothing to say to you”, and [strangling him] “touch my sister and I’ll kill you myself”. Were these the intended outcomes of this conversation for Littlefinger? I guess Littlefinger doesn’t always have a masterplan and is possibly just looking for an opportunity to worm up the old chaos ladder on which he may temporarily have misplaced his footing?

Scene 11: Was that Nymeria?? Arya says “That’s not you”, which made me think the reason why the wolves leave is because she wargs them or something? 

Scene 12: Just as Yara and Ellaria are about to strike up a beautiful friendship, Euron ruins everything by firebombing the Ironborn fleet.

This was a sad scene in which as mentioned above two thirds of the Sand Snakes got massacred after only perfunctory wielding of their signature weapons. Could the remaining Sand Snake be developed into an interesting Last of the Sand Snakes figure? It seems possible that captivity in the hands of Euron and presumably also Cersei will offer Yara, Ellaria and the Last Sand Snake few character development opportunities, and that they will be gorily sacrificed at the altar of the development of Euron’s character as the new Ramsey, and join Maergery and Ros in a lugubrious chorus of Female Hubris in the sky. Let’s hope for a sexy triple escape instead, during which the Last Sand Snake, shorn of her sisters from whom she was unfortunately formerly indistinguishable, dons characteristics and saves the day.