#lord please make 2025 tolerable

[pinep-ne]

in the spirit of the new year, how do you think the gang would have celebrated new year’s in Blackwater? Personally I think Sean got drunk as hell and tried to kiss every person in camp.

Oh god. Twice the drinking. Twice as wild. I definitely think Sean is the #1 instigator for every party, keeping up the energy the entirety of NYE (yes even in the morning). Asking around for resolutions and hopes and dreams and getting a little too physical as always. Which of course exhausted the gang hours before it even hit midnight. But still, they managed.

Arthur I feel is very fickle under the drink— his tipsy little soft spot especially coming out in the position of a new year. I think for most of it, he's 100% down, absolutely BELTING along with the rest of the gang, but as soon as he's away from it, and that bout of sobriety hits he just... sits there. Overcome with some sort of bittersweet melancholy, as he usually is. Despite this "sit and dissociate and think about the year" ritual, and much to his own gruffness, he's willingly sappy enough to round up a few members, if not all, at some point in the evening, to just talk about the times they've shared, and the more to come.

Charles has only been there for a couple months by then. He chooses to enjoy the party from afar, although much closer than his pretty much nonexistent presence at Sean's party. He's not one for superstitious behavior, maybe more sentimental, one of those times he feels he should just connect for the sake of it, even if it sounds a little silly. He tries not to linger too much on the emotional aspect, maybe just opting to wish for good luck this year and leave it at that.

It's not really a rant post from me without butting in the Charthur narrative. I think the very famous "Arthur tracks down Charles during a party to give him a beer and they start flirting awkwardly" trope is actually a rather habitual thing for them, and it'd definitely make sense for that little dance to start in Blackwater (it doesn't make sense but whatever you say). Arthur notices him lingering just enough to look a little intrigued to join. Strides over and demands he relish in the warmth of their little family (it's the middle of winter!), and the light of a new year.

Dutch, being the ringleader, starts the countdown. I think most joined in, even the particularly grumpy and tense members (Bill, for one). Maybe a few exceptions being Micah. And Micah. And maybe Hosea! But that's just because he's too busy having his heart-warmed, watching everyone get together, and thinking on how fast time has gone.

Correct me if I am wrong, please, but I believe fireworks were surprisingly available back then. Did 1800s folk shoot fireworks for new years? They do now I suppose. If not I'm sure their hootin' and hollerin' is loud enough to be a load of fireworks.

As tradition Arthur and John take turns every year to light the fireworks they scrounged up enough funds to get (steal). This one is Arthur's; he waves bye to Charles, and the old guard sets out a good bit away from camp for the entirety of it to view the show.

Anywho. Overall, I don't think they'd be too superstitious. Especially since an odd amount of traditions include a house, which I'm not sure they had in Blackwater. Mostly just a bunch of cheering till they feel like their manifesting and wishes and thanks for a great year have resonated all the way across the state.

[electricneonvalkyrie]

Abby’s Passion Playbook: The Good, The Bad and The Unbearable

18+ Only.

How about some spicy red flags and even spicier green lights to kick off 2025? I think we all need a little boost as we walk into another year. This list could go on forever, and it ails me to stop it here, but I think it’s fun to analyze her character in tiny nibbles of sapphic chaos.

🚩 Judgmental About Her Past

• Our girl has a complicated history, and she owns it. A partner who questions her choices or makes her feel guilty for things she has already worked through or is trying to work through will push her away.

If you rake her through the coals about her relationship with Owen, sayonara sexy time. Labels matter little to her; she just wants to cultivate a safe and passionate sexual encounter.

🚩 Overly Defensive

• If Abby tries to communicate openly and respectfully about something that didn’t work for her or needs improvement, and you shame her or make her feel like shit about it? I’ve consulted Skeleseer, and a round two in your future… “Seems Dreadfully Unlikely.”

It’s important to her that the experience feels good for everyone involved. Help her pull that off by being honest and coolheaded.

🚩 Playing Mind Games

• You wanna talk zero tolerance policy? Try to leverage jealousy, passive-aggression or hot and cold energy in the sheets with Abby. Intentionally withholding affection when you’re angry with her? Buh-bye.

🚩 Shaming Kinks or Curiosities

• Abby might not be the most experimental at first, but she values open-mindedness. Please Lord, don’t ridicule her for her interests or it will shut down any chance of deepening trust and exploration. And believe me, you want this girl to take you on a journey.

🚩 Being Too Self-Conscious

• I know, I know. Trust me. This one is a toughie. Everyone has insecurities, and that is normal and something we should all feel safe to discuss openly with our partners. But if her girl is constantly second-guessing themselves or seeking reassurance when Abby's trying to get lost in their eyes… it’s going to force her into a coach role instead of a lover.

She adores you. Curvy, skinny, athletic, tall, short, it doesn’t matter to her. She worships her women, full stop.

Let her love you into loving yourself because she absolutely will. She's completely sincere when she tells you that you're beautiful and the only person for her.

"You're everything I want. You don't even realize how perfect you are for me."

🚩 Neglecting the Build-Up

• I’m looking at you, Owen. Nah, jokes aside… Abby is the Queen of foreplay. She craves that emotional depth and a partner who continually skips this delicious step and turns the intimacy shallow—better luck next time.

🚩 Toxic Possessiveness

• Among many traits, Abby’s drawn to strength, confidence and passion, but if a partner becomes controlling, obsessive, or tries to isolate her, it will backfire. She values freedom and mutual respect way too much for that nonsense.

A little playful possessiveness might excite her, but if her partner gets overly jealous or accusatory, she will walk away before it escalates.

🚩 Bringing Drama to the Bedroom

• If a partner turns sex into a stage for emotional manipulation or unresolved conflicts, Abby will shut it down immediately.

🚩 Treats Her Like a Trophy

• I pray this goes without saying, but if her partner only focuses on her body or treats her like a conquest, she’ll feel objectified and lose interest quickly.

🚩 Avoids Aftercare

• Abby puts her all into relationships, including the physical ones. Skipping the tenderness and care after the fact leaves her feeling unappreciated and undervalued. This is especially prevalent when exploring kinks with her and absolutely goes both ways.

💚 Attention to Detail

• Someone who notices the little things—like the way she sighs when something feels right or the way her muscles relax under a certain touch… that will keep her completely enthralled.

💚 Keeps Communication Open

• Whether discussing boundaries, desires or insecurities, Abby respects a partner who’s willing to have honest conversations about sex. She desires your safety and satisfaction, hoping you'll do the same for her.

💚 Physical Affection Outside the Bedroom

• I think this absolutely falls into the foreplay category for Abby.

Before she hops into the Humvee, pull her into a quick kiss or brush her hair behind her ear, your woman is a puddle on the concrete. Your hand squeezing her thigh while she’s driving? She’ll do that cute, nervous thing where she swallows super loud and struggles to keep her eyes on the road.

Bonus points for sliding your fingertips up a little higher under the table in the mess hall.

"I'm trying to behave, but you're making it really, really hard."

💚 Playful Chemistry

• A girl who can seamlessly mix teasing and laughter with passion turns her entire body hot. Not taking yourselves too seriously during intimacy will really put her at ease.

"Look, I'm trying to be sexy here, but you keep making me laugh. Stop being adorable for like five seconds."

💚 Knows When to Take Control

• Abby's dominance is evident in both her professional life and play. But, if the moment feels right, she secretly loves when a partner confidently takes the reins.

"I hate how much I love this. Keep going."

💚 Emotionally Present

• Abby is a softie, and she really, really needs to stay fully connected during sex. Sweet whispers, dirty talk, eye contact, gently guiding her jaw to look at you when she’s almost there? You’ve won her heart (and her body).

💚 Physical Strength with a Gentle Touch

• Love bites, hair pulling, playful wrestling matches, a little rough play when it’s established between you both? Game on. But when you know how to balance it with softness, that is her sweet spot.

💚 Praise… Lots of It

• This girl freaking melts when you praise her. Don’t be subtle. I mean, it’s sexy to do it in quieter ways, too, but lean all the way into this one. I dare you.

God, you’re gorgeous, Abby. You feel so good inside me... don't stop. Dead. You’ve killed her. Quick, mouth to mouth!

💚 Okay… Being a Little Possessive Never Hurts

• A hint of playful jealousy (the healthy, sexy kind) lets her know she’s desired. Someone’s flirting with her while she’s rocking wrenches in the motor pool, working away on her motorcycle? Slide your arm around her waist. Nuzzle into her neck. Straddle her and take her for one helluva ride.

I don’t know. She’s the boss around here, not me.

💚 Love Her Emphatically

• Enough said.

🔥 Kinks Abby Would Definitely Be Into 🔥

Power Dynamics (Switch Energy), Praise and Worship, Sensory Play (Ice cubes, warm oil, smooth silk, rough rope, warm wax, blindfolds, toys with vibrations, mirrors), Light Biting/Marking.

[leupagus]

Please note that this fic is going to take the better part of 2024 and probably 2025

(and given my track record might never be done):

Sansa

"Do you like the taste?" asked Littlefinger, watching her closely as she tried the wine. He always watched her closely.

They had stopped at the Inn at the Crossroads; she hadn't wanted to, but she would have had to explain to Littlefinger why. So she had choked down a meal and refused to think about the last time she had come through this way, where the first member of her family had been murdered in the stable while Joffrey had sniveled and lied and shown her, for the first time, who he really was.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about," she answered. "Why do men love it so much?"

Littlefinger shrugged. "It gives some men courage."

"Does it give you courage?"

He smiled, the way he did when she had stung him. He would take his revenge on her somehow, she knew. He was nothing like Joffrey, but there was a smallness to him that reminded her of the king.

The dead king, now.

A flash of armor to her right made her look up; a familiar woman, tall and broad of shoulder in a suit of armor, had approached their table. "Lord Baelish. Lady Sansa. My name is Brienne of Tarth."

Sansa opened her mouth to reply, to tell her she knew who she was, of course she knew. Tyrion had mentioned her often, usually after rebuffing yet another request by the lady of Tarth for an audience with Sansa. I hope you don't mind, and Jaime vouches for her, but Cersei has made it clear she's to go nowhere near you and frankly this giantess makes me a bit nervy. He'd been glad to recount the tale of Lady Brienne and Ser Jaime, traipsing through the Riverlands on their way to King's Landing.

Before Sansa could speak a word, Littlefinger had made some cutting remark, the sort he was so good at. She'd yet to be on the receiving end of any of them but she flinched all the same, watching Brienne's face. Littlefinger was something like Joffrey — and something like herself, too, when she'd been young and pleased at her own wit. Looking back, she knew now that she had only ever been cruel.

Lady Brienne seemed not even to hear Littlefinger; as though he were no more than a gnat to be tolerated until such moment as he could be swatted. She knelt, awkward but not clumsy, and looked earnestly up at her. "Lady Sansa. Before your mother's death, I was her sworn sword. I gave my word I would find you and protect you. I will shield your back and keep your counsel, and give my life for you if needs be. I swear it by the Old Gods and the New."

Would she have given the answering vow? She would never know, because once again Littlefinger was talking, sliding his glance over to Sansa to see what remarks might prompt a reaction. Sansa stayed still and watched as Lady Brienne's attention was at least drawn away, glaring at Littlefinger.

"Strange," Littlefinger was saying. "I knew Cat since the time we were children. She never mentioned you."

"It was after Renly's murder," said Lady Brienne, direct and blunt. She and Sandor would get along well, Sansa thought suddenly. Pity they had never met.

"Ah, yes," said Littlefinger. "You were accused of killing him."

Lady Brienne blushed, a splotchy red spreading across her cheeks. Shame, Sansa thought, but not guilt. "I tried to save him," she spat out. She did not glance over, to see if Sansa would believe her.

"But you were accused."

"By men who did not see what happened."

"And what did happen?"

"He was murdered by a shadow. A shadow with the face of Stannis Baratheon."

"A shadow? With a face?" Littlefinger turned to Sansa, and that was when she knew whatever he was about to say was a lie. "This woman swore to protect Renly. She failed. She swore to protect your mother. She failed." He smirked up at Lady Brienne. "Why would I want somebody with your history of failure guarding Lady Sansa?"

Lady Brienne made a face. "Why would you have any say in her affairs?"

"Because I am her uncle. I married her Aunt Lysa shortly before my beloved's untimely death. We're family now. And you are an outsider. Forgive me, Lady Brienne. But experience has made me wary of outsiders."

She gaped at him, then looked back at Sansa. "Lady Sansa," she said, and paused, as though at a loss for how to convince her. "If we can have a word alone?"

"Yes." Sansa rose, knocking into the table. The goblet of wine spilled and ran down her dress, but she was on her feet at last. The sellswords Littlefinger had brought with him moved in, one of them putting a hand on Lady Brienne's shoulder. She tensed and in just a few seconds there would be bloodshed, there would be someone dead on the floor and it would be her fault.

"Uncle Petyr," she said loudly, her heart rabbiting out of her chest, "Thank you very much for understanding. I will speak with Lady Brienne as you suggest, and then we shall resume our journey."

The sounds of eating and talking died out as faces turned toward her. A round-faced boy came bustling up, a wide, customer-friendly smile pasted on his face. "Is there anything I can help with, milord?" he chirruped.

"A room for the ladies," said Littlefinger, still watching her. She nodded very slightly and his mouth twitched.

"Have you anything on the floor above?" she added, addressing the boy with a nervous glance toward Lady Brienne.

"Er," came the reply, "Yes? Right this way, milady. Miladies."

Sansa leaned toward Littlefinger. He smelled of wine and the oils he used on his hair. "Could some of the guards watch the door?" she whispered. "And some near the stairs. Just…in case."

"Of course," he said, though his eyes were on her mouth.

The way Littlefinger had spoken of her mother, there had been a great rivalry between himself and Ned Stark; and before that a rivalry between himself and her uncle Brandon, who'd been betrothed to Catelyn before his murder. Littlefinger had always sounded like the defeated lover, the man who had nearly won his beloved's hand.

Mother had never mentioned Littlefinger. Father had, once they were in King's Landing and he'd been forced to admit an acquaintance. He'd sounded irritated more than angry; her mother had never loved him, had hardly ever thought of him. Her parents had lived and loved each other and all the while Littlefinger had stewed in his own curdled affections, imagining a love story that had never existed.

She could never decide what had moved her to kiss him on the cheek. Perhaps it had been a clever ploy to distract him, or a way to tell him she would return. She would have liked to have been that clever. But in the moment she could remember only how sorry she felt for him. "I'll just be a few moments," she promised him, lying.

Minutes later she was in a small bedchamber, with two dirty windows on each outside wall and the ominous creak of leather and metal just outside the door, signaling that Littlefinger's sellswords had taken up position. Lady Brienne, for her part, looked as uncomfortable as she had downstairs. "Thank you for speaking with me, my lady," she said.

"Can you fight them all?" Sansa asked her, keeping her voice down. They would need to be overheard soon, but they had a few seconds. Enough time, perhaps enough time. "If there's four in the corridor, and four downstairs."

"What? Yes, of course," said Lady Brienne, expression torn between confusion and offense. She fought off a bear once, Tyrion had told her with glee. Even beat my dear brother in a sword fight. When he still had both hands.

Sansa went to the first window. A long drop onto hard ground, and it faced the road as well as the hitching posts. The second was more promising: hay bales stacked haphazardly next to the wall, and the wood only twenty hards away.

"Start talking," she hissed at Lady Brienne.

She frowned. "I'm sorry?"

Sansa mimed opening the window. "Start talking. About anything. Honor or duty or what my mother was like. Whatever you'd say if you were trying to convince me."

Lady Brienne's eyes widened in understanding. "I…am not much for speeches, my lady," she said slowly, then more loudly as Sansa pulled open the window slowly, mindful of any squeaking. "But I found your mother an honorable woman, and your brother too. I brought Ser Jaime Lannister back to King's Landing at her request, so that you might be returned to your mother in exchange."

It would never have worked; she'd known that even then. The Lannisters did not understand the notion of letting go of an advantage, once they'd sunk their teeth into one. Even Tyrion had never offered to take her to her family once they'd been married. He'd had his reasons, and they had been good ones, but she'd learned another lesson that day. "So you sacrificed your oath to protect my mother for an oath to protect me?" she asked, making sure her voice carried as she swung her legs over the sill. "How can I know you'll not abandon me, too?"

It was important not to think. If she thought about it, she wouldn't do it.

She held her breath, put her hands over her mouth, and fell.