#the invincible army

[theinvinciblearmy]

Count Francesco Baracca was Italy's top fighter ace of World War I. He was credited with 34 aerial victories. The emblem he wore side by side on his plane of a black horse prancing on its two rear hooves inspired Enzo Ferrari to use it on his racing car and later in his automotive company.

[mesetacadre]

The amazing tale of one of these lost divisions, which finally fought its way back to the main lines of the Red Army after more than a month in Western Byelo-Russia, shows the chaotic condition of the German rear. The division lost contact with its higher command during the first German offensive into Byelo-Russia. Several hours later, German planes circled overhead and dropped a map showing that the division was encircled and should surrender. “Thank you for giving us our bearings,” the commander remarked, glancing at the enemy planes. Taking advantage of the map, he evaded the enemy troops and turned east toward the main Red Army lines. During the ensuing month of fighting, the division exhausted its ammunition but captured and used German supplies. It became necessary, on one occasion, to have exact information of the enemy strength. An exceedingly short officer, less than five feet tall, went to a village, donned children’s clothes and gathered a group of Russian children. They wandered to the bank of a stream where German officers were bathing, and the captain stole maps and documents from the officers’ clothes under cover of the children’s play. Another time, the division reached an important highway along which German motor transport was moving at a fast rate. Waiting till dusk, the Russians killed the German traffic officer and held up the enemy automobiles with flashlight signals while the division crossed the road. Then a Russian soldier, in the slain man’s uniform, deliberately misdirected the Nazi tank columns along the wrong route.

The Soviets Expected It, Anna Louise Strong, 1941

[comicgeek2003]

Eviler Than Thou

In the villains business, there's only can be one.

Two villains are rivals, each wreaking havoc in their own special way. Each one has the potential to be the one and only Big Bad. The poor heroes are caught in the middle between two completely different threats, and have to be flexible enough to stop both. They may team up against the heroes for a while (each planning to double-cross the other), but usually they go for each other's throats, and the cross-fire threatens to destroy the world.

Whichever villain wins will rub it in with a cackling speech about how the other villain is deficient.

Examples:

Wander Over Yonder: Lord Dominator to Lord Hater and the other villains. When she appears in the season 2 premiere, it really shows that she is worse than Hater. More later, Lord Awesome tries to flirt with her, but she make him clear she is not interested and lock up him in a cell. In the episode "My Fair Hatey", she even sings "I Am The Bad Guy" to Wander and Hater to shows up how truly evil she can be.

Megamind: The titular character who acts more out of showmanship than any real malice, is horrified when he finds out that Titan/Hal turned out to be a villain who enjoys wreaking real havoc out of pure spite.

The Dark Knight Rises: John Daggett hires Bane to help him in his schemes to take control of Wayne Enterprises, and realizes all too late that Bane was the one who was using him all along. Bane is also implied to have actually been too evil and extreme for Ra's al Ghul and the League of Shadows themselves.

Doctor Who: In the episodes "Army of Ghosts" and "Doomsday", an entire army of Cybermen stomps onto Earth from a parallel universe, seemingly taking control of the planet. Then the Cult of Skaro show up, and make it clear they view the Cybermen as no more than a pest problem.

[maximumphilosopheranchor]

"One might think that an intelligence failure can be benign: The good guys do far better than expected, the bad guys far worse. In fact, erring on the side of pessimism can be as big a problem as being too bullish. The period just before and after Russia began its full-scale invasion of Ukraine, in February 2022, is a good example of this. At the West’s most influential research organizations, prominent analysts—many of them political scientists who follow Russian military affairs—confidently predicted that Russia would defeat its smaller neighbor within weeks. American military leaders believed this consensus, to the point that the Joint Chiefs of Staff chair reportedly told members of Congress that Kyiv could fall within 72 hours of a Russian attack. Although those analysts’ gloomy assessments turned out to be wrong, they’ve nevertheless made the United States and its allies overly cautious in assisting Ukraine in its self-defense.(..)

As we reread scores of articles and reports, listened to podcasts, and reviewed op-eds and interviews, we noticed how little uncertainty had been expressed. Russia, prominent analysts had insisted, had completely modernized its military. Its soldiers were no longer chiefly conscripts but professionals. Its military doctrine—particularly its organization of units into so-called battalion tactical groups, which are small infantry battalions reinforced with tanks and artillery—was a stroke of organizational genius. Its soldiers and airmen had been battle-tested in Syria and earlier operations in Ukraine. The two of us pored over the maps, reprinted widely, that showed half a dozen or more red arrows effortlessly piercing Ukraine up to its western border.

To the extent that analysts discussed Ukraine in any detail, its citizens were depicted as the demoralized and atomized victims of a corrupt government. The country’s substantial Russophone population was portrayed as largely indifferent to rule from Moscow or Kyiv. Ukraine’s equipment was no match for advanced Russian systems. They had experienced only static warfare in the Donbas and would have no chance against a Russian blitzkrieg. Volodymyr Zelensky was portrayed as an ineffective president. He was a comedy performer, not a wartime leader; his government, intelligence services, and armed forces had been penetrated by Russian spies and saboteurs. Ukrainians might not even put up much of a guerrilla resistance. On top of it all came consistent policy advocacy: assertions that Ukraine was not worth arming or that well-intentioned efforts to do so would merely increase suffering.

Two and a half years later, the Russians have taken as many as 600,000 casualties; Ukrainian cities have been shattered but still stand, while Ukrainian drones have hit Moscow. Ukrainians have driven the Black Sea Fleet from its anchorages around Crimea, sunk a third of its ships, and freed up sea lanes for the vital export of Ukrainian agricultural products. Ukrainian forces have in the past few weeks seized an area larger than Los Angeles inside the borders of Russia itself.

The same expert analytic community that erred early in the war continues to dominate much of the public and governmental discourse. Many of them persist in downplaying Ukrainian chances and counseling against giving the Ukrainians weapons that they have repeatedly shown themselves able to use with great effect. Some of them still warn of Russian escalation, up to and including the use of nuclear weapons, even as one Russian red line after another has faded to pink and vanished.(..)

The standard analysis of Russia and Ukraine paid almost no attention to the documented corruption of the Russian military, the rote nature of its exercises, and the failure of attempts to professionalize it. Far from having an abundance of well-trained personnel akin to American and British soldiers, Russian forces consisted for the most part of conscripts who had been bribed or coerced into signing up for a second year of duty in the same old abusive system. Many commentators wrongly compared Vladimir Putin’s forces to their Western counterparts, yielding predictions that Russia would employ “shock and awe” against the Ukrainians—as if its air force had experience and organization similar to that of the United States.(..)

Many observers also paid scant attention to all that had changed in Ukraine since 2014. This point is crucial: Many Western analysts had been trained as Russia specialists. Implicitly, perhaps subconsciously, they viewed Ukraine the way Russian imperialists did: as adjunct to Russia. In many cases ignorant of Ukrainian history, and even dismissive of its claims to national identity and political cohesion, authors of nearly a quarter of the reports we read did not even attempt to describe Ukraine as anything more than a target set for Russia. Many had never visited Ukraine, or spoken with Westerners—including members of allied training missions who had served there—who might have had different and better-informed views.

Possibly most disturbing, the two of us discovered just how small and insular the world of Russian-military analysis was. Think-tank political scientists with narrow specialties had enormous influence in a community whose incentives, unlike those in more vibrant academic disciplines, were for consensus rather than vigorous debate. Many authors made oracular pronouncements and seemed to resent serious questioning by outsiders, even including retired senior military.

We do not doubt prominent analysts’ smarts or honest intentions. But we were reminded of how some public-health experts acted in the early days of the coronavirus pandemic: confidently rendering judgments, dismissing doubts about them, excluding other experts—such as child psychologists, on the question of closing or opening schools—with relevant expertise different from their own.

Many in the public-health community have since engaged in some introspection. Russia experts have shown little such self-awareness, let alone self-criticism. The same experts continue to appear in the same forums, visit the White House, and brief an intelligence community that largely shares its views."

[willosword]

viltrumite war was a bit boring 2 me so there wasn't much to comment on, but the outcome of it all is very cool and has a lot of story potential

[theagentmoo]

Random Thought: what if there was a superpower where if you sang a song lyric, then you could do what that lyric entails?

Some Examples:

“and every time we kiss I swear I can fly”

*kisses person next to them*

*gains power of flight*

“TNT. I’m Dynamite”

*explodes like a creeper*

“There’s nothing that 100 men or more could ever do”

*is invincible to whatever 100 men or more could ever do*

Add your own, have fun :)

[lemedstudent2021]

so much for the 'invincible army' lmao

Brave girl describes the Coward IDF soldiers

[comic-bastards]

Let's Name 224 - Tiny Pocket - Summer First Episodes - Part 1

Welcome, welcome! We don't actually have a part 2 planned, but we'll have a part 2. It's a big ass summer first episode for you, we've got like 24 shows to talk about or something close to that.

Here's what's covered: 2.5 Dimensional Seduction, Alya Sometimes Hides Her Feelings in Russian, Code Geass: Rozé of the Recapture, Dahlia in Bloom: Crafting a Fresh Start with Magical Tools, Dungeon People, Failure Frame: I Became the Strongest and Annihilated Everything with Low-Level Spells, I Parry Everything!, Monogatari Series: Off & Monster Season, A Nobody's Way Up to an Exploration Hero, The Ossan Newbie Adventurer, Trained to Death by the Most Powerful Party, Became Invincible, Plus-Sized Elf, Pseudo Harem, Quality Assurance in Another World, Ramen Akaneko, Senpai Is an Otokonoko, SHOSHIMIN: How to Become Ordinary, The Strongest Magician in the Demon Lord's Army Was a Human, Suicide Squad Isekai, Tower of God

Listen on Spotify

[heritageposts]

Google-translated, posted October 8th

This piece Manoel wrote in 2020 should also be mandatory reading for all Western "leftists," especially now as the Western illusion of military invincibility is being shattered

[...] Another factor that is very common in the western left is to treat suffering and extreme poverty as elements of superiority. It is very common in Western leftist culture to support martyrs and suffering. Everyone today likes Salvador Allende. Why? Salvador Allende is a victim, a martyr. He was assassinated in Pinochet’s coup d’ etat.

And, on Western leftists support of Palestine (pre Al-Aqsa Flood — Manoel, writing in 2020, was clearly underestimating the military capabilities of the Gazan resistance)

Palestinians are a people who are deeply oppressed, in a situation of extreme poverty, that don’t have a national economy because they don’t have a national state. They don’t have an army or military or economic power. Therefore, Palestine is the total incarnation of the metaphor of David vs Goliath, except that this David doesn’t have a chance of beating Goliath in political and military conflict. Therefore, almost everyone in the international left likes Palestine. People become ecstatic looking at those images -- which I don’t think are very fantastic – of a child or teenager using a sling to launch a rock at a tank. Look, this is a clear example of heroism but it is also a symbol of barbarism. This is a people who do not have the capacity to defend themselves facing an imperialist colonial power that is armed to the teeth. They do not have an equal capacity of resistance, but this is romanticized. Western leftists like this situation of oppression, suffering and martyrdom.

If you're a Westerner, I think it's worth investigating to what extent this image Palestinians as 'defenseless' or 'defeated' (I've seen some of you talk about Palestine in the past tense) factors into your support of Palestine as it is now, under occupation.

Because there will be an after.

Everyone supported Viet Nam when it was under attack, being destroyed and bombed for over 30 years. Viet Nam beat Japan in WW2, then had to fight France, and then had to fight the United States. It passed 30 straight years without being able to build a damn school or hospital because a bomb would drop, first from France and then the United States, and destroy it. When the country was finally able to beat all of the colonial and neocolonial powers and have the opportunity to start planning, to build highways, electrical systems, schools and universities without having bombs land on them the next day and destroy everything that was being done, the country was abandoned by the majority of the left. It lost its charm, it lost its enchantment. There is a fetish for defeat in the western left. It is an idea that defeat is something majestic.

[higgs-the-god]

It’s likeeeee… do the ppl who Were friends with me just watch me burn as the dumpster fire I am

[theinvinciblearmy]

Scotland Bressay Shetland Isles / Castle Mars Wark 1569 Castle Stalker Loch Laich Argyll Bute / Deans Village Dunrobin Castle / Duntrune Castle 4 Photos of Edinburgh

[boardgametoday]

Corvus Belli reveals its January releases for Infinity

Corvus Belli reveals its January releases for Infinity #corvusbelli #infinity

Military Order Hospitaller Action Pack Ref: 281233-0991PVP/MSRP: 84,95 € / 100.99 $ Armies: PanOceania / Military Orders The Hospital is the most powerful and influential Religious Military Order in PanOceania. Crusaders for faith and country, they are aware that their mission is to always be ready for the call of duty, which always comes at the darkest hour. Box includes 11 miniatures for…

[adragonsfriend]

I think a lot of people missed the point that it’s really not that hard to kill Jedi. If you’ve got a private army, you can probably kill Jedi. If you’re a sith you can probably kill Jedi. If you’re a really well resourced bounty hunter you can probably kill a Jedi. Qui-gon and Obi-Wan parallel one another in getting killed, specifically to show the audience that Jedi can be killed, but death is not something a Jedi should fear. There is no death, there is the Force.

The magic of a Jedi does not come from invincibility—it comes from the lack of any true separation between ordinary happenings and miracles, which they understand, and we do not.

[internetskiff]

Something about Gordon Freeman that's extremely fascinating is how he was basically forced into the "Messiah" role by complete accident. Dude was on his way to work, caught in an extremely awful lab accident, and he was just fighting for his life so brutally that he ended up taking down an entire army, making the other less capable or equipped scientists assign him as the one that would go in and take down the Nihilanth - I mean, they basically didn't have many other options, or at least not many better options at their disposal. The whole time he basically doesn't have much of a say in any of it, which means he was practically railroaded into becoming the G-Man's employee by pure circumstance.

Doesn't get any better in Half Life 2 either - the surviving Black Mesa staff have turned this man they potentially sent to die into a legend amongst the resistance movement. The Vortigaunts chant his name as they draw murals on the canal walls. The Lambda - a symbol of both the Lambda Labs but most notably the symbol on the HEV suit - now symbolizes liberation. Therefore, of course, the man who bears this symbol is the liberator. By the ending chapters of Half Life 2, Freeman commands entire squads of rebels, appointed the leader regardless of how good a tactician he actually is - if they die, they died for him, not because of him. As long as he gets to the Citadel and breaches it's wall, all those deaths would be worth it - once again, others send him into a near-inhospitable environment to take down a near-invincible threat.

I think that despite us being in control of Freeman for most of the series, the real protagonists of the story are the Vance family. Eli, too, was right at ground zero when the Resonance Cascade occurred. He is the leader of the Resistance. It's very possible that he's the one who spread word of Freeman throughout City 17. The fall of Nova Prospekt AND the Citadel occurred as a result of Eli's capture. In the Combine's eyes, the Vances are a threat equal to, if not greater than Freeman himself. That, and the Vances have something Freeman doesn't - agency. They're beyond the G-Man's control. They're beyond the Combine's control. Their actions are completely their own, with no third party to control every single step they take. Over the course of the Episodes, it feels as though the dynamic shifts, with Alyx becoming a much more vital figure. The Combine are specifically after her now, because she carries the code capable of disrupting the portal through which the Combine could send reinforcements and finally consume Earth. In both the Epistle 3 script and in Half Life Alyx it ends with her basically taking Freeman's position under the G-Man's employ. She quite literally takes the role of the Main Character away from Gordon. This, of course, is nothing to envy, because it's been repeatedly shown that any character assuming this role in the series ends up being reduced to nothing but a pawn for those who control them. It's an extremely fascinating spin on the linear nature of the games, canonically acknowledging you're doing nothing but marching along a path someone else made for you. Despite being the one free man, you're not offered much of a choice.

[allykatsart]

Trust Issues

���️Previous ▶️Next

The next morning and no one is having a good time. Angel and the rest have just gotten the news that Heaven not only threw out the person who defended them, but also that Adam will be targeting the hotel with an invincible angelic army. Not to mention Vaggie's whole secret making this worse than it already is...

Emily and Angel aren't friends yet... But they can get there in time. Emily's persistent and a ray of sunshine, she's good at making friends. (And Angel likes her more than he let's on).

Commission Me!

[housetargaryenloyalist]

Summer loving

Pairing: Benjicot Blackwood x Tully!reader

Synopsis: It seems that the boy you knew ten summers ago has turned into a man

Wordcount: 2.9k

Warnings: Fluff, fluff, pure fluff.

Author's note: A little Benji fic sparked by the summer heat. Little disclaimer that this is my first time writing for Benjicot so he will not be perfect, I tried my best and I hope you can sense that. If you have any remarks, don't hesitatie to share them, but please remember to be kind. I'm a sensitive little soul ❤️

English is not my first language, apologies for any mistakes.

Happy reading <3

‎⋆ ˚｡⋆୨ ♡Masterlist♡ ୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

*:･ﾟ✧Let me know what you think✧*:･ﾟ

The summer of your ten and eight nameday was a sweltering one, sun beaming relentlessly in the sky, nary a cloud in sight allowing the sun to have free reign. It was simply torturous.

Your dress spun of summer wool clung to your skin, your body covered in a thin layer of glossy sweat, making you seem aglow. No matter how many times you fanned yourself with your makeshift fan of paper it had no lasting effect, for as soon as you stopped to regain strength, the heat came back with vengeance.

This summer the Gods were surely intent on killing you muttered as you sat in your family’s carriage, windows open yet they offered little reprieve.

Unlike the Targaryens who were blessed with the dragon bonds, and the ability to traverse through the air, you were earthbound to a hobbling, suffocating carriage.

Landscapes passed you by in a soft blur, the colour green dominating your vision. Your brothers sat in front of you in the vehicle, their tunic partly undone.and although they were better in the heat than you were, they were not invincible.

Their cheeks had turned rosy from heat and their curls were dark and stuck to their forehead. They were most excited for this journey, as it was a visit to Raventree Hall, ancestral home of their close friend Benjicot Blackwood.

You, on the other hand, did not share in their excitement, for you there would not be a merry reunion of old friendship. You were sent there with the sole purpose of securing a marriage alliance.

For as a Tully, it was your duty to marry well and it was equally your duty to strengthen your family’s ties. Your father and grandsire desired you to wed the young Blackwood heir to ensure you would do both. In their eyes there was much to be gained from such an alliance, for one the Blackwoods possessed a large army, with many skilled warriors. Additionally, they ruled over extensive domains with fertile ground.

If all went well, the Blackwoods would be tied to the Tully’s for a few generations and peace would prevail in the Riverlands. It was heavy burden to bare, yet you bore it well. The only upside was that you had known the Blackwood boy in your youth and he had not seemed too terrible of a husband then. You could only pray he had grown up just as well as people rumoured.

Ten summers ago you had been here once before, a young girl unburdened by duty, you remember playing in the mud with the boys. You remember climbing trees and ripping your dress, much to the anger and frustration of your mother.

It had been a summer spent watching your brothers try to beat their new friend in combat and failing miserably.

They had gotten close quite a few times, yet Benjicot Blackwood remained superior, however at age eight the clanging of swords had frightened you. No matter how often you heard it. The sharp sound hurting your still young ears. During one particular duel between your other brother, Oscar and Benjicot, you had even cried.

Hot, heavy tears of fear and anxiety had rolled down your cheeks and into your sleeves as you tried to keep them abay. The pair had quickly stopped their little match, and Oscar rushed to comfort you, turning from knight into dutiful older brother.

The Blackwood heir had looked perplexed at the scene, not expecting your brother to forfeit by prioritising you. In that moment he had seemed odd to you, even mean, for how he stood there. Not even the slightest inquiry into your wellbeing, but he was soon forgotten as Oscar guided you to a small flower patch.

His young hands were rough from sword fighting, calluses forming where there used to be soft baby skin, despite the hardness, he still managed to pluck the flowers and weave them gently into a flower crown. He told you a story of valiant knights as he did so, distracting you from tears.

At dinner later that evening you had worn the crown proudly, a bright grin on your face as you were seated. Your mother was partly frustrated by the lack of decorum but could not resist the loveliness, you were only young for so long she had whispered to your lord father.

Your father had less of a stringent nature to him, had a temper like that of a river, a true Tully. He was in possession of a calm disposition yet had a force within him that could destroy much. Your brothers were much like him you observed, same Tully hair, same Tully manners.

You, on the other hand, were much more like your mother. An uncanny resemblance your Septa had once said, yet she had also remarked you to be much wilder than her, “a rumbustious little girl,” she often called you.

Seated in a chair too tall for your feet to reach the ground, you were shocked when the young Blackwood boy entered the great hall with his hair a mess and a bouquet of wildflowers in his hand.

Some flowers had lost the majority of their petals, others had been bent and lost their uprightness, others were simply wilted yet you remembered it as the most beautiful bouquet you had ever seen. He had walked towards you, the flower arrangement held tightly in his young hands.

Once he reached where you were seated he held out the bouquet and practically shoved them into your face. “For you my lady,” he said, smiling a proud smile and you noticed he was missing one of front teeth.

You were admittedly a bit stupefied to receive such a gift so suddenly but accepted it with glee, you had always had a particular fondness for flowers. You laid the flowers in front of you and reached for your flower crown.

Gently you placed it on the black curls of Benjicot Blackwood, whose smile widened at your action, “thank you,” you said and brought the flowers back into your lap.

That night was the first night rumours of an engagement swept through the Riverlands.

Now you were here once again, sitting in that very same Great Hall, once again waiting for dinner. This time, however, you had no flower crown perched upon your head.

The Tully travelling party had arrived later in the day than expected, leaving little time for you all to wander around the castle before you were rushed into your seats.

“A guest must never go without food,” your interim host, Alysanne Blackwood had declared. Your brothers had been slightly disappointed not to be received by their childhood compatriot, yet their disappointment was soon subdued when they learned he had simply gone out to hunt. Alysanne assured them that he would be there to greet them at the welcoming feast.

It was not long after that Benjicot Blackwood made his entrance. You remembered him as a shy boy, with a gap in his front teeth from where a baby tooth had fallen out, and soft black curls.

Even though he was good with a sword, he had never been good with words.

In the short weeks you had spent at Raventree Hall, he rarely spoke directly to you and those rare times he did, he found it hard to look you in the eyes.

Now, at age twenty, it seemed his boyish shyness had gone and in its place stood a strong, confident man, lord of Raventree Hall. Your breathing increased as you continued to observe him, he had grown large, perhaps larger than Kermit, which you knew would irk him greatly considering he was older than the young Blackwood lord.

Benjicot Blackwood was surely to draw the attention of many ladies high- and lowborn, the notion of which sparked a small bout of jealousy to cross over your mind. The seeds of jealousy could not blossom however for as he entered further into the Great Hall you noticed what he held in his hands.

A bouquet of wildflowers.

You bit your lip to try in vain to stop a smile from spreading. Perhaps it was a tad conceited to imagine that bouquet to be meant for you, there had been nary any contact between the two of you.

Your respective duties busying you and decorum frowned on correspondence between a man and woman who shared neither blood or marital bond. You knew that your brothers had exchanged ravens with him throughout the years, yet knew not much of what they contained.

You assumed that it contained mention of new fighting techniques they learned, and perhaps complaints of their lessons from the Maester.

Whatever the contents might have been, you weren’t too sure if you wanted to know. You stopped your musing as you watched Benjicot walk towards you, getting closer and closer.

Before long you had hurried out from your chair, in order to curtsy before him as propriety demanded. Your Speta would have been proud, and your mother even proude,r.

Benjicot laughed as he saw you, “There is no need for such a thing amongst old friends my lady,” came his warm voice, you nodded and smiled as you met his gaze. “How good it is to see you Lady Tully,” he extended the bouquet towards you, much gentler than when he did it at age ten, “a small gift to welcome you to Raventree Hall.”

You smiled even brighter as you took the flowers into your hands, bringing them close to your face and inhaling the flowers' sweet scent. The bouquet was large, yet had seemed quite small in his hands, now that it was in your possession it could not fit in one hand alone.

You looked back up, feeling the heat of a blush creep up your cheeks. “Thank you my lord,” you said in a tone so soft, you heard your brothers giggle behind you. 

He looked slightly abashed as he took in your adult form, gone were the scraped up knees and torn up dresses, your hair so messy it took your maids a great deal of effort to detangle it.

Now before him, however, stood a woman grown. A woman with a soft smile, perfectly done up hair and who was wearing a dress that perfectly complimented her eyes.

He could feel his heartbeat speed up as he committed her to his memory, she would not leave his mind any day soon, perhaps not ever.

He cleared his throat, “ I recalled that you had a fondness for flowers when you were younger,” he scratched the back of his head, causing his hair to tangle even more, “I’m pleased to see that you are still as fond.” You smiled at him, noticing a blush much like yours dusting his cheeks, “Indeed I am my lord."

A week passed by swiftly, the bouquet Benjicot had given you had been placed into a beautiful pot on your nightstand, they were there when you closed your eyes and when you opened them. You cared not that they had begun to wilt, you could not bear to part from them.

They were a daily reminder of Benji, as he so sheepishly asked you to call him that night of the feast. He had started to consume your every waking moment, and even in sleep he managed to haunt you.

During the day he would accompany you on walks through Raventree Hall and its surrounding terrain, he would sit next to you at dinner, converse with you through bites of lamb and sips of wine.

Your brothers had complained nearly the whole week of how often Benjicot’s attention had been on you, and how they have seemingly been abandoned by their old friend. You paid them no heed, content to spend every moment of your time with the raven haired boy. 

It was a cooler summer day when you once again ventured into the gardens accompanied by Benji, his hands softly grazing against yours with every step you took. It took a great deal of strength for you not to grasp his hand and intertwine it with yours, to end this torture.

Yet it was not you who took the first step, his hand tentatively reached over to yours and held it in a weak grasp. You looked at him with wide eyes, and you were met with a bashful smile, “I hope this is alright,” he said as he tightened his grasp, “your hand seemed lonely.”

At that you giggled, for it had to be one of the silliest things you had ever heard, “it is quite alright Benji,” you looked to the side as you continued, “my hand was indeed feeling lonely.”

Now it was his turn to let out a soft laugh. The two of you ventured deeper, down a soft brown gravel path, surrounded by colourful flowers of various heights. It was like walking through an oasis of colours, a vision only the best painters could bring to life.

“Do you like them?” the man next to you asked, and you cocked your head in slight confusion, “the flowers, I mean. Do you like them?” You looked at him and nodded, “I like them a great deal.” An immense smile covered his face, he looked radiant like this. “I am glad, I had them planted for you.”

At that you stopped, your face the very definition of shocked. “You did what?” you asked, thinking him ridiculous for saying that. His unoccupied hand, went to scratch the back of his head, something you had noticed him doing often whenever he felt nervous or shy.

“Are you serious Benji?” You stepped closer to him, as you whispered, not wishing to draw attention from the others. He smiled at you in a way that would be the death of you, “Yes I am, I asked the gardeners to plant them after you were here ten summers ago”

You took a deep breath and looked around at the sea of colour. All this wonder and beauty for you?  You could have never imagined, not even in your boldest of dreams.

“Are you not happy?” He asked, a slight furrow forming in his eyebrows, worry clouding in his eyes and his smile disappearing. “No, no,” you shook your head, “I'm incredibly happy” 

You looked to him with a fond smile as an idea sprung forward in your mind. You brought his hand intertwined with yours close to you and gave the back of his a soft kiss. An action that would be considered incredibly forward, the very definition of improper, yet you pressed all those thoughts away to the back of your mind.

“Thank you Benji,” you let his hand fall back to the space between you, “I love them.” His eyes were wide, pupils blown and eyebrows raised, even his mouth stood open slightly, shock evident to all who would behold him.

You thanked The Seven that it seemed that only you were able to do so. Soon however, the shock faded, a mischievous smile crossing his face instead. He released your hand, which made you furrow your brows, yet your brows did not remain that way for long.

Large hands encircled your waist, and with one strong tug you were chest to chest with him.He looked at you, foreheads almost touching, smiling the softest smile you had ever seen.

You could see the freckles dusting his skin, and you could even press your lips into his. Your chests rose and fell in tandem, the purest sense of tranquillity falling over you.

He looked into your eyes with unbridled affection, it almost overwhelmed you too much to continue looking into them.

“Will you marry me?” he whispered, the words floating between you both. You knew, you knew before he even asked.

“Yes,” you whispered back, not hesitating for a moment. He smiled, and let his forehead touch against yours, eyes closed and posture at east. The scent of wildflowers filled your nose as he did.

That night, for the second time, rumours of an engagement swept through the Riverlands.