#wedding stamp custom

[weddingstamp]

Stamp for Wedding Invitations.

Show off your new married status with the Welcome Forever Wedding Stamp. This clear stamp is perfect for making beautiful personalized wedding invitations, save-the-date cards, shower invites and more. Features an image of two interlocked hearts topped with a sparkling capital letter E.

Features: 

- Clear stamp featuring an image of two interlocked hearts topped with a sparkling capital letter E

- Easy to use on any surface including paper and fabric

Benefits: 

- Customize and personalize your wedding stationery for a unique style that reflects you & your partner 

- Durable materials to stand up to continual use without cracking or fading away

- Saves time by quickly adorning handmade projects, rather than handwriting details

[customstampmaker]

Most people prefer ready-made stamps to complete any official as well as personal task. There are a number of options available in the market nowadays. Due to any particular reason, you may need customized rubber stamps according to your requirements. In this scenario, you can add the required data and even select pictures to design your own stamp online for sure. You can go through our various stamp collections before selecting a better stamp-making company.    

People generally reduce their workload by putting a stamp on important papers. Thus, they can avoid any bigger mistakes quite easily. Apart from this, we can store several important documents in an organized way with the help of smart and customized rubber stamps. Here are some of the common and useful types of rubber stamps for your concern. These given types of rubber stamps will definitely help you a lot while selecting a custom rubber stamp online.

[bri-sonat]

Kisses Of Fire

Follow-up to Life Eternal

Pairing: Brienne of Tarth x Fem!Knight!Reader

Warnings: NSFW!! Major GoT spoilers, descriptions of violence & blood, angst, SMUTTY SMUT, oral sex, praise kink, semi-public sex, a tiny bit of angst again, fluff.

A/N: so as i was writing this i realized i totally made up my own timeline, oopsie, so i should clarify. the first two fics (enjoy the silence & life eternal) took place post the long night and pre the end. this fic catches up to that. this is (by my own opinion and admission) not my best work, but i've been working on it for so long and it's been approved for public reading, so, here it is. the finale. the end of our two beloved knights' love story. blah blah blah english is not my first language (obligatory warning). i hope the ending is satisfactory to all, enjoy!

big thanks to my dear bestie aron (@queerofalltrades) for reading through it and giving it the stamp of approval, and for helping me with the idea for this fic, without them, this fic wouldn't exist. and spouse heather (@pastanest) for helping me compact complicated GoT plot and for explaining more GoT customs to me.

It had been five months since that fateful night by the stables when your love had screamed after you with all her might with tears in her eyes. 

That had also been the last time she had communicated with you at all. 

You had sent her ravens, every Sunday for the past months, concluding your week, talking about your father's passing, and your mother. No message was ever sent back but your own, unopened and unread. Despite this you kept sending them, to keep your oath and to let her know you thought about her, every single day. 

In your messages to her, you often mentioned things you saw during your day that reminded you of her. Like the bright blue sky, equally as bright as her eyes and smile. The setting sun, just as beautiful and breathtaking as her. Any time you saw something dark blue, much reminding you of the unique armor she always donned. 

These small details were added for her to know that you hadn’t forgotten her and that she was always on your mind; had she read them, she would’ve been made aware of this fact. 

You couldn’t blame her for ignoring your messages. She was upset that you left, that you didn’t listen to her cries. That you had made her fall in love, and that you ripped her heart out of her chest. 

What you couldn’t understand, however, was her stubbornness, she knew you had no choice. In fact, she would’ve done the same had her father gotten ill, considering she’s his only heir. The only difference was she would’ve let you come with her; she would’ve begged you to. 

She would have hired you as her main bodyguard, as her master-at-arms, as Commander of her troops, she would have hired you as anything if it meant always having you at her side. Even as she ruled over Tarth. 

That was the difference between her and you, she had obligations and could not join you, even when she desperately wanted to, you, however, could join her. You weren’t sworn to anyone but your family, Brienne, and the Gods, there was work for knights everywhere, you could go wherever you wished. 

She went where her loyalties led her, and her loyalties always led her to the daughters of Lady Catelyn Stark. Despite the Lady’s murder at the red wedding years prior, the honorable blonde kept serving the daughters, because death did not release her from her vows. You admired her extreme loyalty and virtue, there weren’t many people like her left in the world you lived in, everyone was either greedy, monsters, liars, or all three. 

Your unopened scrolls started to pile up on your desk and you wondered how long she would keep this up. Your patience only lasted for so long and you couldn’t deny the pang of hurt that surged through you and your heart when yet another message was returned, unread. After a while, you started to wonder if she had even received your ravens at all. 

About one month after you had arrived at your family’s residence in Lemonwood, your father passed due to his illness, leaving you and your mother as the attendees of the family business. 

The four months that passed after that were spent keeping up the trade, meeting shipments at Planky Town as they came in from the Westerosi coast and the Free Cities of Essos, comforting your mother, and sending unrequited ravens to Brienne. 

To honor your duties as a knight, you offered your help to the Martell family, having history with them that went all the way back to your grandfather's childhood. The only living one of them called for you every now and then for advice, or just to help patrol around Sunspear. 

You were a familiar face for most, having spent a lot of time in the city growing up, and you recognized some people as well, stopping to have a chat with some; and others, you just gave a polite nod to considering where you knew them from. 

Brienne was a constant on your mind, even when you received the news one week after your arrival of Kings Landing crumbling, the deaths of Jaime and Cersei Lannister, and Jon Snow assassinating Daenerys Targaryen. 

A few weeks after the fall of the capital and the deaths, Prince Martell had to leave for unstated business in Kings Landing. He had asked you to look over things while he was away and you accepted, not inquiring what said business was about. 

He had returned about a week later and stated that Bran the Broken had taken the now melted Iron Throne and that The North had been established as an independent kingdom with Sansa as its ruler. The mention of her name brought forth memories of the last time you had spoken to her, recollections of Brienne, and eventually evocations of her by the stables. 

You had no news of your knight; you did not even know if she was alive. 

You desperately wanted to ask Prince Martell about Brienne. Just a simple, ‘My Lord, was there a tall blonde by Sansa Starks’ side?’ would have been adequate, but you hadn’t dared to verbalize the query in case the answer was no. If the answer was no, it meant that she was no longer alive, because your knight was always by the redhead's side as her sworn sword. 

Part of you hoped that if she had met her untimely death, you’d be notified; but had to come to terms with that there would be no reason for anyone to think of doing so. 

Around the same time of Prince Martell's return from Kings Landing, your raven returned, however, something was different this time. The bird carried both your scroll and another. You had hoped it was from Brienne, disappointment settled in when you saw that it wasn’t. 

The words on the Stark stationary were very few, only there to convey the brief piece of information necessary. Despite the lack of long and many sentences, the small amount was exactly what you needed to hear. 

“Brienne no longer resides in Winterfell. She has relocated to the White Sword Tower in Kings Landing. – Sansa Stark.”

She was alive. A flood of relief washed over you but was quickly replaced by sadness and confusion. She was alive but ignored your messages; and she was in the King's Guard, of course. 

You read the message again and detected that Brienne's and Sansa’s titles were missing in the message, meaning she had forsaken professionalism. This led you to the conclusion that she somehow knew about you and your knight's infatuation with each other. It gave you a sense of calmness, knowing that you would have been notified had she perished. 

It then broke your heart, realizing that the blonde couldn’t let go of her pride for one second to personally let you know of her relocating, she had to have someone else do it for her. You would have expected her to tell you so herself but apparently, that was too highly anticipated of you, so silly of you to think that she could be bothered to tell you personally, how unreasonable, how idiotic. 

There were whispers of a new Lord Commander, but no one knew who they were, only that the King's Guard now only consisted of two knights. You knew that Brienne was one of the members, considering her new residency but still had no idea who the Commander could be considering they had no distinguishing marks to tell them apart from the rest of the guard. 

So, until it was confirmed who had filled the position, it was unknown information and you made it a habit to spike your ears whenever you heard people mention ‘Lord Commander’ in conversation, hoping to learn what everyone was curious to know. 

——— 

Brienne’s life had been quite non-identical. She had spent the entire week after your departure mourning you. She noticed your absence in everything: her bed, her heart, breakfast, training, dinner, and the void was particularly draining after her patrols when your usual midnight meetings would occur. She had gotten used to your touch, now the only thing she felt was the cold hand of complete loneliness. 

During your stay, Brienne's squire, Podrick, had noticed the taller knight's infatuation with you and stayed away, giving you the space to speak uninhibitedly. You had not met him but had heard such wonderful stories of their adventures together. He instead lurked in the background, training with your love when you had split off during the day. 

With you gone, he had proven to be a comforting presence for Brienne, but the hole left inside of her was still gaping, a void that only you could seal. She trained him whenever she had free time, which was more often with you not there, and he grew stronger and stronger for each day that passed. 

Sometime after the Battle of Kings Landing, Brienne traveled to the Dragonpit to represent Tarth in the trial of Tyrion Lannister. From what she had been told by Sansa whose opinion she valued most amongst those present at the trial, Daenerys had gone against his advice, he had then denounced himself as her Hand, resulting in imprisonment for his defiance. 

Jon Snow, who Brienne had come to conclude was a good man after the time spent with him at Sansa's side, had then had a conversation with Tyrion within the cell he was held in, before murdering Daenerys.  

During the trial, Brienne sat and listened to Tyrion as he advised the gathered council to elect a new King to decide his fate. Expressing his reasoning, he suggested Brandon Stark. At this, the blonde knight assented, as did everyone else. 

Brandon Stark then met Sansa’s demand for the North to once again become its own sovereign kingdom, as it was for thousands of years.  

Tyrion’s punishment, as decided by King Bran, was to reclaim his position as Hand to the monarch and amend his previous mistakes in the same position, under previous rulers, for the rest of his life. Though the Lannister strongly opposed this idea, that only made the punishment more just, as, to him, it was not the reward that many would take the position to be. 

However, the minute Brienne had assented by saying ‘aye,’ she was ashamed to admit how little of her attention she devoted to the trial due to her mind being occupied by thoughts of you, but alas, that was her fate. She was well aware of the people around her and what decisions were made but she couldn’t have cared less. 

She had acknowledged your ravens, she just didn’t have the strength to open them, to read about your life without her. She knew she was being unreasonable, and she chastised herself for it. Despite how well aware she was of her unwarranted and irrational behavior, she ignored them, but you just kept sending them and it got harder and harder for Brienne to just leave the inviting scrolls; however, she knew it would only hurt her more to read about your Dorne adventures. 

In hindsight, however, those messages would’ve been something much more joy-inducing to have of yours, compared to the only thing she had in her possession. 

After the trial, Bran had approached Brienne, and offered her the position of Lord Commander in his Kings Guard, he was a very blunt man, the King, and she had been a bit surprised with just how candid he was. She had managed to hide her initial reaction and had humbly accepted his offer. Sworn the oath at the Stark’s request and stated that her squire is yet to be knighted and that she would do so with haste. 

Podrick was ready and had been for a while, but she was called to Kings Landing for the trial before she had the opportunity to knight him. This worked out in his favor however, considering being knighted by someone from the King's Guard and the Lord Commander of it, was seen as prestigious; and would earn him substantially more respect than if she would’ve knighted him when she was still a knight herself. 

The King had nodded at her declaration, “I will ask Sansa to have someone pack up and send your belongings here. Tell your squire to come see me as soon as he is a knight. In the meantime, I believe we have some measurements to get for your new armor.” 

“Your Grace, there is no need for that. I have no belongings in Winterfell I’d like to keep. I brought everything important with me.”  

“Are you sure, Lord Brienne?” 

“Yes, Sire.” 

“Very well. Now, come with me.” 

Podrick, who had followed Brienne from Winterfell to Kings Landing, had been approached by the taller knight the day after the trial. 

He had a puzzled expression on his face as he watched her and she knew he had a question to ask, she would have preferred if he had kept his mouth shut about it but had allowed him to ask it anyways; regretting it as soon as he spoke. 

“Lord Commander?” Hesitant in his tone, he had looked up apologetically at Brienne with the hope that she wouldn’t scold him for granting his inquisitiveness to take over. 

“Yes, Podrick?” She stared down at him and she could almost see the gears that had been turning in his head; looking for the most well-mannered way to phrase the words that followed. 

“I apologize for what I am about to ask but I am afraid curiosity has gotten the best of me. Whatever happened with the knight from Dorne?” She released a sigh, there it was. 

“I do not wish to speak of them, not because there is anger but because there’s too much pain.” Brienne had remained stoic in her answer and in her facial expressions, but her insides had been bleeding, almost like she had been impaled by a sword and left to die, bathing in a pool of her own blood. 

That was the first and only time she and Podrick ever spoke about your departure. The shorter man had opened his mouth to say something else but was quickly interjected by Brienne. “Come along Podrick. There’s something we need to do.” 

“Yes, My Lord.” 

As they walked through the ruins of Kings Landing, Brienne wondered if she should’ve been the one to send a raven to inform you of her move to another kingdom, but she hadn’t been able to bring herself to do so. 

She had instead asked Sansa if she would send one, to which she agreed. The redhead had seen the affection you held for each other and knew that there was more to your seemingly professional relationship. Brienne hadn’t known the reason for the Stark’s compliance but was grateful for it either way. 

All the memories that had been created in Winterfell were painful for Brienne and she found it almost relieving that she didn’t have to return, there was too much sadness there. She did not know when you would return to her, even if it had only been around one month since you had left, so leaving all the woeful memories behind was easier than she had thought. 

The happier ones were harder though, the memories in the courtyard, her room, the mess hall, the bathhouse, your room. The room where she had found the letter that changed everything. 

She had kept the note. It was now stained with dried tears, the paper damaged by the salty drops; ink smudged in various places. She kept it somewhere safe, out of sight from wandering eyes but close by. 

It was read every single night with tears in her eyes before she went to sleep, desperately trying to remember what your voice sounded like, to no avail. 

She had brought it with her to Kings Landing for the trial, not wanting to leave without it. Reading through your words had become routine, and it had gotten to the point where she could not sleep if she did not read your letter before bed. It was one of the first personal items to take its home in her new living quarters.  

Brienne and Podrick had walked in silence as he took in the crumbled kingdom. The fire had stopped but the damage was still apparent. Blackened remains of destroyed buildings and dried blood on the ground. 

The charred corpses had been moved the day before, given a proper burial in unmarked graves, at Tyrion’s request. To have it done within a day, the blue-eyed knight had assisted; her strong arms able to carry double the weight. 

It had been a grisly sight, and even Brienne, who had seen plenty of violence in her days, had felt a hint of nausea and sorrow go through her at the sight of the destruction. The smell hadn’t made it any better. 

The two had turned a corner and Brienne entered a large building that surprisingly hadn’t been affected by the attack, far enough away from the dragon's path of destruction. The room had been dimmed, rays of sun coming in from the small windows lining the walls; standing along it was Tyrion, his small form lurking in the darkness. 

The tall knight stopped abruptly in the middle of the room, Podrick had done the same a couple of feet behind her to avoid crashing into Brienne’s back. 

“Tyrion is here to bear witness. I told him that there was no need, but he insisted.” Her voice had been flat, stern. She had turned on her heels, faced him, and pulled out her sword from its sheath, the metal scraping against metal had echoed, the sound bouncing between the bare walls. 

“Kneel, Podrick Payne.” He had gotten down on one knee in front of Brienne, gazing up at her, and she had proceeded to lay her sword on his left shoulder, her eyes boring into his. “In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave.” 

She had shifted the metal of her blade to his right shoulder, carefully placing it down, mindful of the sharpness of the sword's edge. “In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just.” 

She had switched shoulders again, the metal of the sword gliding in the air. “In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent.” She placed her sword back into her scabbard before she had stated her last words, “Arise, Podrick Payne, a knight of the Six Kingdoms.” 

One month after your departure, Brienne had knighted Podrick. After this, she and Tyrion took him to see Bran, just as he had requested one day prior. The King had asked him to prove his fighting skills, suggesting he spar against his teacher, “Lord Brienne has trained you and I have no doubts in her skill, I am sure you are more than qualified. It is just a formality. I’m sure you understand, Ser Podrick.” 

“Of course, your Grace.” 

They had stepped out into a large somewhat empty clearing to give the two knights the space they required, and Podrick had proved his swordsmanship by fighting the blonde, King Bran being more than satisfied after seeing him hold his own against Brienne’s powerful blows. 

“That’s quite enough. I can tell Lord Brienne would floor you if we kept going and I need you both in prime health. Approach and kneel.” 

Podrick, who had read every book the word ‘knight’ was mentioned in and who had Brienne teach him everything she knew, had gotten down on one knee, and sworn the oath of the King's Guard, just like the tall woman had the day before. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold on lands, father no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

“Arise.” 

With this, Podrick had been integrated into the King's Guard and Tyrion had taken him away for measurements. Brienne had asked Bran what she was to do until the resources for reparations arrived, and he had in turn told her to assess the damage done to the armory, and see if anything needed to be replaced. And to update the Book of Brothers: to complete Jaime’s entry, and add her own. She had done so with haste. 

Two weeks later, the supplies arrived in Kings Landing which was still in ruins. She, together with Tyrion, had met them at the Gate of the Gods, which was a large hole in a wall after the dragon attack, clad in her new shiny gold armor with extensive white enameling and a white cloak draped over her tall form. 

She had come to stand by Tyrion’s side to discuss something, but he had asked her to stay when she moved to leave his side, it was mostly so she could act as a waypoint, of sorts, for the convoy. It was also so he could analyze her up close. 

The small council had held a meeting and discussed what would come next, the reparations of the kingdom had been a unanimous agreement. They had wanted to rebuild the brothels first, but Brienne had quickly expressed her disapproval at the thought of prioritizing them over the rebuilds of the royal fleet, which clearly took precedence due to the lack of ships following the war. 

The four months that followed after the arrival of the supplies were filled with Brienne overlooking some of the construction whenever she didn’t have anything else to do and performing her Lord Commander duties; whatever they ended up being, they varied from larger decisions to smaller ones. 

Some days she just spent her hours in the armory, polishing and sharpening every sword; and some she spent in the White Sword Tower, either re-reading previous entries in the Book of Brothers or residing in her quarters. 

She was so busy with her new duties that she did not have the time to respond to your ravens, even if she could gather the emotional strength to do so. 

Five months after your separation, Bran had requested her attention, sending Tyrion to collect her. 

He had found her in the armory taking inventory of the same gear she had checked the day before. When asked, she told everyone it was to ‘make sure no one stole anything�� but it was really to keep her mind occupied with something other than you who plagued her mind day in and day out, even in her slumber. 

“The King wishes to speak with you, Lord Brienne.” Tyrion interrupted her almost obsessive counting, arriving when she had finished sharpening the last sword. He stood in the doorway as he watched her get up from the stool she was sitting on, put away the sword she was holding, and walk towards him. 

“Of course, Lord Hand. Lead the way.” 

The walk was quiet, for the most part. Brienne was content with the silence, Tyrion; not so much. 

“Forgive me for being informal, Lord Commander, but; what is the matter with you?” The question staggered Brienne, her entire being stalling for one second, too stunned to move, before she continued her prior movements, resuming her stroll by the shorter man's side. 

“Pardon?” She knew exactly what he was referring to. Her behavior had been strange, to say the least. Erratically counting and whetting, staring off into space, and getting lost in her own thoughts. Brienne had always been a bit unusual and turned in towards herself, but it had been even more so these last couple of months. 

“Brienne. I can promise you that no one is stealing weapons from the armory during the night in peacetime. The armory which, need I remind you, is locked up with you as the key holder. So, what the hell is your issue?” Tyrion had stopped right outside the building Bran was currently in, glaring up at Brienne with furrowed brows and caring eyes. 

“I-” she released an elongated sigh, “I do not wish to talk about it. What does the King need to speak to me about?” Switching the subject to the reason she was standing there with him in the first place, hoping to remove herself from the theme she wasn’t entirely comfortable conversing with Tyrion about. 

The shorter man let out a sigh, admitting defeat, knowing he wasn’t getting anything out of her. “I do not know. He did not tell me.”  

“Very well.” With this, Brienne pushed past the shorter man who was left standing in place, annoyed at the taller woman’s stubbornness, which seemed to be an ongoing theme nowadays. 

Her white cloak flowed behind her as she navigated her way through the corridors, her steps echoing in the empty hallways. 

“Lord Brienne!” Bran called her name as she entered the room he was residing in, stopping what he had been doing before she arrived, “I’m glad you’re here. I have something to ask of you.”  

The blonde knight quickly kneeled before him and he just as quickly ushered her up to her feet, claiming there was no need for such formalities. Brienne didn’t quite understand why but complied either way. “Sire, what can I do for you?” 

“I need you and Ser Podrick to escort a shipment from Planky Town. You will travel there by ship, collect the shipment, and bring it back. I’ve already spoken to Davos, and he has given you temporary command of one of his ships. It’s an incredibly rare material and I need my best men on it. I know it’s different from your usual duties but treat this mission the way you would any other.” 

The thought process that went through Brienne's head after Bran had started speaking was: Planky Town – Dorne – you. There was a hurricane of emotions whirling around inside of her that destroyed anything in its path, and as in every hurricane, the eye was quiet, which allowed her to process the whirlwind. 

She was ecstatic at the opportunity to finally visit Dorne, and maybe, if the Gods were good, cross paths with you. She was also guilty and terrified at the thought of meeting you again. Running into you after ignoring your messages for months would surely prove to be an unpleasant experience. You’d surely be angry, disappointed, and upset; all at her. But at least she would get to see you, even if it was with you staring daggers her way. 

Her mind was racing, running faster than it ever had and Brienne couldn’t keep up. Until a noise ripped her out of her thoughts, permitting her to catch up to her sprinting brain. The door behind her opened and closed, signaling that someone else had entered the room. This was when she realized she had been standing still and in silence for far too long, Bran looking at her with an unreadable expression as he waited for her response. 

“Yes. Of course, Your Grace. When do we depart?” Brienne remained as professional and stoic as usual, even when her mind was anything but. She had zoned out again, become lost in her own thoughts like a scared little girl getting lost in the woods with no way out. 

“Tomorrow at sunrise. Be at the docks by then.” 

“Yes. Anything else?” 

“No. You are dismissed, Lord Brienne.” After vocalizing the command, Bran looked away from the Lord Commander and went back to his previous activity. Whatever that was hadn’t been observed by the blue-eyed knight, and she simply couldn’t be bothered to find out. 

She bowed before taking her exit, passing Tyrion as she left the room. He looked at her warm-heartedly, giving her the smallest of smiles and a small nod which she didn’t reciprocate, a scowl painted on her lips. 

If she wasn’t so focused on keeping the hurricane inside of her in check, and on preventing any tells to leak out of her hardened exterior onto her face, she would have given him the same back. Instead, she just kept her mind set on maintaining a straight face. 

The second the heavy door closed behind her, she let the stone face fall, and an intrigued smile replaced her former frown. Her booted footsteps echoed in the barren hallways as she went back the way she came, her long white cloak floating behind her. 

“Dorne, huh?”  

——— 

You rolled up what must have been the twentieth message for Brienne, before strapping the scroll to your raven. It was a warm day in Lemonwood, as it was every day in Dorne, the Summer Sea waves hitting against the cliff side breaking the pleasant silence of the early Sunday morning. 

Your raven, Bartholomew (actually named Branoc by your parents, but you thought that was a little bit boring), was sent on its way and you sat at your desk, watching the bird as it flapped its coal-black wings, carrying yet another message for your love. 

The usual distant bustling noise of Planky Town had yet to begin, it was still too early but you and your mother had a shipment to meet. No rest for the traders. 

Your family had since your great-great-great grandfather been a part of a large trading company, landing you as one of the wealthier families in Westeros.  

The business had been passed through generations and now it had landed on your mother's lap. You were delighted to assist her for however long she needed you but the longing and yearning for Brienne’s touch was getting to be too much. You needed to get back to her. 

Sighing, you put your stationary, ink, and quill away, before rising from your seated position at your desk. The armor you had worn in Winterfell had been swapped out for a more heat friendly one. Specially crafted to allow breathing and protection, the Dornish colors decorate the leather gear. 

It rested on the stand in your room, the fur coat and cold-resistant steel armor gathering dust in one of your closets. You hadn’t laid eyes on either of the items since you disregarded them five months ago. 

The trip here had been a long one, riding along Kings Road before turning onto Rivers Road; before finally arriving in Lannisport just west of Riverrun. Once there, you were able to hop on one of your family’s trading ships, taking you back to Planky Town. 

The only comfortable way to Dorne when traveling from another kingdom, was by ship. The terrain and road through the Red Mountains were unforgiving and extremely hard to traverse and there was no way you were putting yourself through that. The ride through the barren desert after the mountains wasn’t all that inviting either. 

The difference in climate had hit you right away, the searing sun of Dorne not quite the same as the biting chill of The North. Your fur coat had been discarded soon after passing The Trident and turning onto the road that led you to your destination. It rained moderately in the Riverlands, therefore, you had to take it off to insure its dryness.  

When it started raining, like you had expected it to do, you had to take a break, seeking shelter under the protecting crowns of the trees. The fur coat proved quite useful as an extra blanket during the cool nights, and you pretended that it was the warm embrace of Brienne enveloping you instead of the cloak. 

After you had boarded the ship in Lannisport, you were able to take off your armor for the first time in days, letting the cool breeze of the sea wash over you. The familiar salty smell of the ocean reminding you of your childhood. 

The sound of knocking on your door pulled you out of your reminiscent state. Quickly pulling yourself to the present, you took large strides toward your door and opened it in a swift and controlled motion. 

You were met with the weary and tired eyes of your mother, she hadn’t slept well since the passing of your father, and you couldn’t blame her, neither had you. 

The sleeplessness was a combination of the grief from losing your father and the loss of Brienne's warmth. You had slept in her arms only once, but that singular time was enough to have your body aching for more affection from the tall blonde woman. 

Most of this you wrote about in your messages. The messages she couldn’t even be bothered to open because if she did, she would realize you missed her so. That you would leave as soon as you weren’t needed, and that you would return to her arms as fast as humanly possible. 

“Good morning, Mother.” Your voice was softer than usual, it always was around your mother nowadays, scared that any other tone would disrupt the mourning process she had begun. 

Her voice was weak, frail. Throat hoarse from crying, “Good morning. Just wanted to see if you were awake.” She did this every morning. Checking up on you. She did it when you were growing up and continued doing so when you returned. It was an even more comforting action this time around, serving as a reminder that you had each other to lean on. 

“I am, have you eaten?” Your mother's eating habits had been on the rocks lately, too busy with the business that she simply forgot to eat, sometimes she didn’t want to, her appetite gone. So, you asked her, every day, if she had eaten. Sometimes she said yes, sometimes she said no. 

“Yes. Have you?”  

You hummed in response to her question, “I ate when I woke up, I’m ready to go when you are. I’ll just need to gear up.” 

Your mother nodded, “I will wait for you in the carriage.” With this, she turned around and left. Making her descent down the carpet-clad stone stairs. 

After closing the door, you walked to your armor stand by your window that overlooked the Summer Sea and began removing each piece, attaching them to your form. 

As you put on your leather armor, you watched as ships of many different sizes sailed past your window, floating on the sea in the searing hot Dorne sun. The sun's rays invaded your room, casting it a beautiful golden glow, and warming your skin; the pleasant smell of the sea like a comforting blanket over you. 

Some of the sailing ships came from the west and some from the east. Some were sailing for trading companies, and some were sailing for travel. Their flags and sails fluttered in the warm air, hulls breaking through the water. 

Eventually, all the leather gear had been secured to your form, the last part had been your sword, and with everything in place, you abandoned your room; briskly walked down the same stairs your mother had, and stepped out into the warmth of the morning. 

Your mother stood by the carriage, conversing with the coachman. The sight of you approaching interrupted their conversation, the coachman opening the door to the roofed wheelhouse. Allowing your mother to enter and closing it once she had sat down inside. 

The carriage did not have any windows except for some small springs, meaning you didn’t have a good view of the scenery and environment around you. So, to make sure you were able to keep a look out for potential dangers, you sat up front with the coachman. 

You did not mind doing so however, he was a very interesting man with many stories to tell and you often enjoyed the chats you had with him. 

The ride to Planky Town wasn’t long, your ancestors chose to settle in Lemonwood for the short travel distance, taking into account that the port was a regular visit. 

On the way there you passed several travelers, and you recognized most of them as inhibitors of the other nearby settlements. You didn’t know any of them particularly well, only having met them a few times during formal events. Still being familiar with them and wanting to show civility; short pleasantries were exchanged before continuing your journey. 

It didn’t take long for the lively sound of the now awake port town to reach you, the familiar sight of the Greenblood river opening its mouth in front of you, running out into the vast sea. 

As every Sunday, it was reserved for shipment collection, meaning it wouldn’t be as busy as it usually was the rest of the weekdays. Despite this, there was still a large number of people going about their business of resupplying or trading. 

The coachman stopped your carriage a distance away from the docks as he usually did to prevent blocking the road. He stepped off to open the door for your mother, who had stayed silent during the ride as she usually did. 

You stepped off after him, watching your mother exit the wheelhouse, and walked up to her side, hand on the hilt of your sword and back straight. You were here as a traders’ child, yes, but you were also a knight. 

It wasn’t often that you were asked to make your rounds down here, yet on rare occasions you were. Even when you weren’t here on such business you still wanted to keep up appearances, you knew Brienne would. 

Shooting your coachman a nod and a smile, you linked your mothers' arm with your own and started trekking toward the docked ships. “Is it the usual today?” Wanting to make conversation, you asked your mother something that would pull her out of the damaging mindset she had surely found herself in. 

“Yes. Meet the shipment, and see that everything is as it should, some is unloaded here to be sold, rest is shipped to other port towns to be distributed by our partners.” It was like clockwork by now, and you knew it by heart, your mother knew that you did and found it kind of you to ask. She knew why you did and appreciated the distraction from her thoughts. 

A quick hum was all you gave in response, your steps taking you closer to the harbor until you reached the docked trader ship. Letting go of your mother's arm you turned to look at her, “I will stay on land and take a look around. Wait here until I come back.” 

She gave a quick nod before she stepped onto the wooden vessel, you saw your mother meet the captain and he in turn gave her the inventory list for her to check off. You began turning on your heel to walk away but before you could, something caught your eye. A ship from the royal fleet. 

It hadn’t been the ship in itself that stopped you, it had been the person you saw on board it. You had seen her faster than you cared to admit, almost like your eyes had been searching for her. 

She was standing as robust as she had done the first time you saw her when you first arrived in Winterfell. Her hands behind her back, the wind blowing through her short blonde curls; the white fabric that draped down her figure danced in the Summer Sea wind. 

She stood on the quarter deck, donned in her gold-white armor that reflected the sunlight, she looked so handsome in it, so at home. She was a White Sword, this you were aware of, but you were still nonplussed to see it, to have it verified. 

You were so used to seeing her in her dark armor. The dark armor that she had worn during the duration of your stay, the armor that you had begun to associate with her. Seeing her in anything else but, was an abnormal sight. 

As the ship inched closer and closer to the docks, you saw that there was detailing on her chest piece, a raven. Fitting for the three-eyed ravens' Kings Guard. 

From what you could percept, Oathkeeper still sat loyally at her side, and you wondered how she had taken the news of Ser Jaime's death. You knew that they had been... relatively close, she had described their relationship as ‘an unexpected companionship,’ which was really her fancy (and courteous) way of saying ‘it was a war, he was an extra sword, we spent time together because we had to.’ 

Truth was, Brienne didn’t take the announcement of his passing that hard. Still too focused on the loss of you. In her mind, she had tolerated Jaime, not seeing him as a close friend, and therefore did not feel the need to mourn him. 

The grief from your departure was still a fresh wound in her heart and even if she did feel the need to shed tears for him, it would be too overwhelming to do so for two people at the same time, and she refused to put you aside to lament Jaime Lannister who meant so little to her. So, it was an easy choice for her. You took precedence over everything else. 

You were frozen in place, watching her as she stood tall and proud. Anger bubbled up inside of your chest, along with sadness and betrayal. Yet at the same time, you were so gleeful to see her again after such a long time, and even though you wanted nothing more than to run into her embrace; the fact that she hadn’t responded to your ravens in months stood true. 

You didn’t want to see her, and you did not want to speak with her. With the feelings running amuck inside of you, you feared that if put face to face with her you’d say some things that you couldn’t take back. Hurting her even more than you had already done; ruining any chances of ever reconciliating and returning to each other's arms. For now, the best choice was to leave and blend in with the crowd before she could spot you, but it was too late. 

The second her ship had docked, and she had stepped onto land, she had seen you. Her intense blue eyes locked on to yours and the moment they did, they flashed with what looked like regret and guilt. 

It was too much to handle, the same blue irises that kept you up at night, that haunted your dreams, were now staring at you in such a way that made your heart twist inside of your chest. 

Her mouth was hanging open the tiniest bit, eyebrows furrowed. She was surprised to see you. If there weren’t so many thoughts swirling around in your head, you were sure that you would match her expression, shocked to see her down here. Shocked to see her at all. 

Your head was a battle arena, your thoughts fighting, trying to bring you back to your senses, to help you make a decision, and fast. The one who ended up coming on top was the one for before, the one telling you to leave; the one telling you to run to her getting left in the mud. 

You started to walk towards the crowd, planning to disappear in the swirl of people but Brienne was taller than most people there and was able to periscope over everyone, meaning you and your Dornish leather armor stood out like a beacon on a dark night. 

She started to follow you, Podrick trailing behind her trying to keep up with her broad strides. The continuous stream of people helped with keeping a distance between the three of you, but there were only so many traders and merchants, and you eventually reached a clearing, close to where your carriage was parked. 

There was no hiding from her now. 

The familiar voice of Brienne called your name, shivers running down your spine at hearing it for the first time in five months. You had forgotten what she sounded like, just how beautiful and deep her voice was, how the accent compliments it in the most fantastic way, working in harmony to make everything she said sound like poetry. 

“Stop!” you didn’t obey her command, instead, you kept moving forward. Her steps picked up, her long legs faster than yours, and before you could process her closing in on you, her hand grabbed your wrist, pulling at it slightly causing you to abruptly stop, and turn around. 

Suddenly, the only thing in your vision was her piercing eyes as they searched your face for any sign of forgiveness, love, or adoration; only finding the same stone-cold expression you had worn when your eyes met minutes ago. 

She had hoped that her proximity and touch would bring back the soft expression you used to have for her. It did not. Instead, you rejected her touch. Ripping your wrist away from her grasp, almost aggressively so, almost like her touch was hot coal burning you through your protective leather gear. 

She gazed down at you, a silent plea behind them for you to speak to her, to say anything. Just wanting to hear your voice. You in return stared up defiantly at her, displaying your anger by taking a step back, distancing yourself from her. She took this as a confirmation that you had become repulsed by her, just like everyone else; her weakness and pure selfishness had caused you to despise her. 

In truth, the moment she had gotten close, the all too addicting scent of her had invaded your senses, making it so much harder to stay focused. The step back was to display anger, yes, but also to step away from the inebriation that was the smell of Brienne. 

“Ser Brienne.” You spoke stiffly, your face full of indifference. She remained neutral, but to you, she was an open book. The way you said her name hadn’t gone unnoticed by the blonde, and you saw the flash of hurt in her eyes when you said her name. The usual affection you held for her wasn’t there anymore, and she completely understood why. 

She opened her mouth to say something, getting interrupted by Podrick before she could, “It’s actually Lord Commander-” Brienne held up a hand, successfully interrupting him back, but not before you heard her new title. Lord Commander, huh? 

“Ser Podrick! Do you not recognize them?” So, this was the Podrick you had heard so much about. He was shorter than you expected him to be, but maybe that was because he stood next to one of the tallest people in Westeros; she made anyone look short. 

She had broken your eye contact to stare at the younger knight with her usual glare. He looked at you once again, observing you. The second it clicked; his mouth fell open in a silent ‘oh.’ He cleared his throat before mumbling a silent apology to both you and Brienne. 

“Go and wait for the shipment. Leave us.” The Lord Commanders' voice was harsh, leaving no room for objections. 

“Yes, My Lord.” He rushed off, leaving you and Brienne alone. She turned her head back to yours the instant Podrick disappeared out of sight into the flow of people. 

“Lord Commander?” The voice that exited your mouth was incredulous. You couldn’t believe your ears. She had been appointed the highest position in the King's Guard and secured a spot on the King's Council, and you hadn’t been informed. The love of your life hadn’t told you of a major update in her life. 

“Yes.”  

“You were appointed Lord Commander of the King's Guard and I find out today. How long?” You almost did not want to ask. Not wanting to know how long she had been keeping this from you. 

You hoped she would say 'a couple of weeks’ or ‘about a month’ because then you would understand the lack of communication. You were understanding of the task of taking on a new title and the job that came with it. If she was in the beginning phases, you would have understood. Instead, you were greeted with the opposite. 

“About four months...” 

“Four months-! You are unbelievable, Lord Commander.” You spat her title back at her, there was such wretchedness in your voice, such wrath. What you had feared was just a couple words ahead, the fear that you would say something that would be irreversible. There was no closing the gates of Hell now. 

“Please just call me Brienne, like you used to.” Her voice had shifted into a gentler one, attempting to diffuse the situation. You scoffed at her. Was she really trying to ‘go back to the way it used to be’ after making no effort in communicating with you at all? 

“I don’t know if I want to refer to you as anything anymore.” There it was. The gates had been opened, and anything coming out after this was meant to hurt. Meant to drive a knife into her stomach and twist it. Disbelief spread through your being, so irritated at her for just assuming you’d forget everything that had happened. Both of which were perceivable in your tone. 

“Please, if you would just let me explain-” Desperation was evident in her voice, her entire face softening, her eyes imploring for you to please listen, to please forgive her. But you didn’t want to hear it. You didn’t want to hear her excuses; not before you had said your piece. 

“Explain what, huh? Explain how you couldn’t let go of your pride to send me something back? A simple ‘hello, it is I, Brienne of Tarth,’” you tried your best to copy her speaking voice, it falling short, “once a month would have sufficed because then I would have known that you were alive!”  

You took a breath before continuing, keeping your voice steady, tears threatening to well up. 

“Instead, I had to get that sign of life from Sansa! Do you understand how much that pained me? That you could not let go of your stubbornness for two seconds to let me know of your damn relocation to Kings Landing by yourself! Why?” Glaring up at her, you panted, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. 

“I couldn’t bring myself to read about your life without me…” Her voice was quiet, almost like she was ashamed to admit her reasons for not responding. At her admission, your wrath eased up. You weren’t furious at her anymore, but there was still the agonizing pain of being ignored by someone who you love so much, and whom you care for so. “I know, it was unreasonable, irrational, intolerant of me. I am aware.” 

She continued her explanation, “I really wanted to, read your messages, that is. Because I missed you terribly, and love you so, but it would have hurt too much. Then after I was appointed my new position and title I had so much to do, and I was so stressed, and I didn’t have the time to reply.” She was trying her best to stay strong, or at least for it to look like she was but she was moments away from a breakdown. 

You kept eye contact the entire time, seeing when tears were starting to form in her eyes, and you were suddenly extremely aware of how exposed you two were. “I’m sorry.” Her last words were a whisper, barely audible, voice breaking. 

She then broke eye contact, tilting her head down, fixing her gaze on the sandy ground. You glanced around you, seeing that your carriage was only a couple of feet away. It gave you the perfect escape plan. 

You took her by the hand, dragging her towards your carriage with a quick ‘come with me.’ The sudden, unexpected contact made Brienne’s head snap up, meeting the back of your head with her blurry vision. She needed privacy, you couldn’t let everyone see the Lord Commander break down in public, so you had to shelter her. It also provided you with a quieter place to speak. 

You asked the coachman to go make himself busy before ushering Brienne into the wheelhouse, you following suit, closing and locking the door behind you. Quickly covering all the springs in your immediate vision with its individual curtain. 

The second you sat down across from her, the dam broke. She buried her face in her hands as loud sobs wrecked through her, much like the ones you had heard by the stables as you rode away. 

Your anger and pain had quickly subsided when you had heard her entire reasoning, and when you saw how guilty she felt. There was no need to be mad at her, you didn’t think you could be anymore. 

Relieving yourself from your sword sheathe, you pondered, unsure if you should remain seated across from her, or if you should move to sit by her side. You couldn’t comfort her all those months ago, but you’d be damned if you didn’t do it now. 

Quickly maneuvering across the carriage, you took a seat next to Brienne, taking off her scabbard before throwing an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close to you, her becoming flush against your side. She hadn’t expected the abrupt intimacy, it was a welcome one, especially after feeling nothing for so many days. 

Her arms flew around your waist, her face burying itself into your leather-covered chest. Your free hand came up to Brienne’s head, softly stroking her hair as the other gently caressed her upper arm. Her armor made it a little lumpy, but you did not care. Having her back in your arms after so long was an incredible feeling, and you couldn’t believe how you had made it this long without her warmth. 

Her sobbing was relentless, tears flowing down her face and dropping onto your legs. Your leather tasset had gradually shifted down the side of your upper thighs in your seated position, revealing your tunic trousers underneath. 

Brienne repeated the same phrase, over and over again through wails. Saying how sorry she was, how she hoped you could forgive her. You in turn answered with reassurance. Telling her that you accepted her apology, that she was forgiven. 

You didn’t know how much time had passed when Brienne’s cries eventually died down, rendering the small space silent except for the occasional sniffles coming from the blonde beside you. Her head had been removed from your chest and she now sat upright. You still had your arm around her, hand resting on her armored bicep. 

The hand that had been stroking her hair was now holding hers, entwined hands resting in between yours and Brienne’s thighs. Your thumb lazily drawing lines on the scarred skin. 

“Are you alright?” The softness had returned to your voice, the love and tenderness had as well, and the Commander noticed. She was soothed by your question because it meant you still cared enough to check in on her. That lit a light in Brienne’s tunnel of misery; there was still something left to save, to rebuild. 

“Yes. Especially now that I’m back in your arms.” She turned her head to look at you, you doing the same and offering her a soft smile which she returned. As you took in her tear-stained face and red puffy eyes, you were smacked with the remembrance of your earlier words, words that shouldn’t have been uttered. 

  “I’m really sorry for what I said back there. I was filled with fury, and I didn’t mean it. I always want to refer to you, dear Brienne.” Voice low to avoid disrupting the peace, your voice was gentler. A strong contrast to the cutting tone you had used outside. You brought her held hand up to your face to place a peck on the back of it, relishing in the feeling of her skin against your lips once again. 

“It’s okay, I know you didn’t mean it. I forgive you either way.” You dropped yours and Brienne’s hands into your lap and released a sigh of relief hearing her words. Silence settled in again as you gazed into each other's eyes. The blonde's sapphire blues darted down to your lips and back up to your eyes, just like they had that night in the courtyard almost one year ago. She wanted to kiss you, and you needed her to. “You know, I really did miss you. A lot.” It was nothing more than a whisper, a breath of desire. 

“Yeah, yeah. I missed you, too. Now shut up and kiss me, please.” Brienne giggled at your eagerness and avidity and was quick to oblige to your wish. She turned her body towards you, legs shifting to be able to face you as comfortably as possible, hand coming up to cup your cheek, head diving in fast to capture your lips, eyes falling shut before colliding. 

The second her lips connected with yours, a contented and allayed moan escaped Brienne’s throat. She had longed for, craved, and missed you for so many months, all the tension and sorrow built up inside of her melting away the moment your lips touched. It was even more heavenly than she had recalled. One of your hands flew up to the side of her neck, your body shifting to copy the way she sat. 

It was like you never left, lips moving together in familiarity. Brienne’s tongue swiped over your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you granted it. Her wet, strong muscle started exploring your mouth the second you parted your lips. The feeling of her tongue wrestling with yours along with the familiar taste of her, made you release a low moan; she tasted even better than you had remembered. 

The taste of you, the feeling of your tongue sliding against hers, your soft whimpers as she expertly moved her lips with yours like a dance, elegant and controlled like a waltz, but passionate and heated like a tango. A dance of the love and yearning you contained for the other. All of it took over her senses, her brain going into overdrive, her mewling against your lips. 

The hand that was holding on to Brienne’s broke away from the grasp, moving to find purchase in the blonde's hair. It was already disheveled from the salty ocean wind, hair slightly curled from the humidity in the air; your hand running through it wouldn’t make it worse. It wouldn’t be odd for her hair to be out of place considering the strong coast gust. 

Your fingers started at the nape of her neck, slowly moving upwards until they stopped at the back, curling them in her tresses, gathering a fistful of her hair in your hand. Brienne hummed against your mouth at the feeling of your digits in her hair once again, and the hand that had been abandoned by yours grabbed onto your waist, palm gently resting on your side. 

Your lips pulled apart, but you still kept the contact, foreheads leaning against the others, eyes shut as you regained your breath. “I really did miss you. I was hoping to show you just how much...” Brienne spoke between heavy breaths. 

You did not miss the glint of seduction in her voice or the innuendo. During the make-out session the all too familiar heat grew between your legs and your body craved her touch, as it had for months. But right here, in a carriage in a port town when you both had responsibilities? 

“Brienne...” Breathing out her name and meaning to remind her of your current area; you weren’t able to complete the rest of your sentence before she interrupted you. 

“Look at me,” you removed your head from hers and opened your eyes, meeting Brienne’s that were already staring back at you, her blue irises as deep and breathtaking as the galaxy, filled with stars and planets of her own. They were truly remarkable and gorgeous; fitting for someone like her. “I have craved you for so long. I don’t know how long it will be until we meet again. Let me make it up to you. Let me erase the past five months of misery. Let me do this so we can have something to last us until we can guarantee proximity to each other. Please.” 

The hand in her blonde curls transferred to her cheek, gently holding and stroking her flushed skin with your thumb. Her eyes were pleading as was her voice, wanting to remove the memories of pain and replace them with ones of pleasure; and you wanted that too. 

You placed a soft kiss on her lips before nodding, “that sounds perfect. I’d love nothing more.” At your confirmation, Brienne’s lips turned up into the biggest grin much like the one she wore after your first kiss, and she was on her knees on the wooden floor shortly after; her hands resting on your legs. 

“I’ve never done this before. All I know is that I want to make you feel good.” She gazed up at you as she spoke. She was insecure, as was obvious in her voice and her eyes, but also determined, not letting uncertainty scare her away. “Tell me if it feels good and what I can do to bring you maximum pleasure.” 

“I will.” 

The woman on her knees before you started undressing you. Starting with your boots, before wedging her hands under your leather chest cover to unstrap your tasset that was hindering access to the buckle of your trousers. 

Throwing a look at the door to the carriage to make sure it was locked, you noticed that one of the springs hadn’t been covered by the sheer curtain. As you stood up to close it, Brienne’s fingers undid the metal of your pants, pulling them down at the same time as you pulled the curtain down. 

You were now completely out of sight; the problem was, so was the outside world, and if your mother decided to forego your escort to make the trek back herself; she’d find you in one hell of a position. 

You prayed to the old Gods and the new that your mother would stay put, or that inventory would take longer than usual so that she didn’t hear you reconnecting with your love. Sure, she knew about Brienne and the relationship you had, it was one of the first things you had talked about when you got home, but you didn’t want your mothers' first impression of the much taller knight to be her in between your legs. 

Brienne’s hands grabbed onto your hips and pulled down, causing you to meet the seat with an unexpected speed, she was impatient, and you understood why. She had already spent too much time away from her mission and Podrick, and sooner or later, he would come looking for her, and would no doubt find her considering her last known position and your family’s carriage being mere feet away. Time was of the essence, and you couldn’t afford to waste any of it. 

Heavy breathing came from the woman in front of you as she placed her hands back onto your knees and gently spread them, being faced with your soaked underwear. She had never seen your sex before, felt it, sure, but never seen. She hadn’t tasted you either and she was practically drooling at the thought of finally doing so. 

Tentative and curious hands slowly traveled up your legs, stopping at the hem of your undergarments. Hooking her fingers inside and motions for you to elevate your hips slightly. Lifting your hips for easy discarding, she pulled them down in one motion, revealing your needy cunt to her hungry, dilated eyes. 

She was if in a trance, watching with such intensity you feared her eyes would pop out of her skull. You nudged her shoulder with your knee, causing her to snap her gaze to yours. Her pupils were blown-out, darkened from lust and desire. The air was thick inside of the small space and you could practically sense her ferocity as it emanated from her person.  

She looked so pretty like this on her knees for you, looking up at you with virtuous eyes. So ready and willing to serve; to satisfy your needs. Reaching out a hand, you took hold of her chin, guiding her face closer to your core, she needed a little helping hand. “You look so good right now, pretty girl. On your knees for me. So ready to do whatever I wish, hmm.” 

Brienne could only offer a nod in response, your words and low, vibrating voice combined with your dominating tone. If she were standing, she was sure her knees would give out and she’d fall to the floor. But since she already was kneeling on the wooden boards, she gave out a tiny whine instead, forgetting just how much power your words had over her. 

The scent of your arousal was overwhelming, your pussy radiating such heat, Brienne being able to sense it all when you had brought her face close enough to the apex of your inner thighs, and she wanted nothing more than to taste you, something she had wanted for such a long time; completely missing out on her chance before you left. She thought she had all the time in the world with you, how was she supposed to know you were leaving the same night she had intended to feast on you. 

So, the fact remained: you had tasted her; she hadn’t tasted you and she was so desperate to finally know how your wet flesh would feel against her tongue. Desperate to gain familiarity with the sensation she thought she would have experienced months ago when she had planned it. 

After you had eaten her out and gotten into bed together, her mind had started wondering what you’d taste like and that she’d propose to perform oral on you the next day during your midnight meeting, but then you left, and she never did find out what you tasted like. 

Finally, five months later. She would finally know just how wonderful you’d taste. 

“Use your tongue, my sweet girl. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts.” You stroked Brienne’s skin softly before sliding your hand to the back of her head, leg coming up to lay on her shoulder, foot resting on her back. Your other hand was placed beside you, using the seat as support. 

She licked her lips, mumbling ‘what a pretty little pussy’ before finally diving in, shutting her eyes, and allowing her intuition to take over. She licked a careful stripe up from your entrance to your clit, circling it slowly before closing her mouth around it, lightly sucking. Her tongue was a godsend, so strong and oh was she good at using it. 

You released a soft whimper, mindful to keep quiet considering your whereabouts but still wanting to let her know just how good she was making you feel. Your head leaned against the wall behind you, but your eyes were locked on Brienne’s between your legs, moving slightly as she used her skillful mouth on you. 

Your fingers grabbed at her hair, wanting to hold her in place as her tongue flicked over your clit and you refrained from pushing her closer; wanting her to do it on her own terms. You were sure that if she made you come with minimal help from you, her confidence would boost and that would exponentially heighten the chances of her giving head more often in the future, maybe even initiate it. 

Even though you wanted her to learn by doing, she had requested you to tell her how to make you feel good, and that was what you intended to do. 

Her arms were snaked around your thighs, hands resting where hip and leg met. She switched between sucking and licking, sometimes doing both, drawing out all kinds of noises from you. “Yeah. Just like that, baby. Just like that. You’re doing so good.” Even when she was pleasuring you, she was still submissive and in need of praise and assurance, and you were more than happy to provide all of those things for her. “Try- Try adding more pressure with your tongue.” 

A vibrating sensation exited Brienne’s mouth as she moaned against your clit at hearing your praise, causing your body to jerk and you to hold back a loud groan. She wanted to be validated, to be told she was doing a good job. This only applied to the sex part of her life, however, as she couldn’t care less about what other people thought of her, well, not anymore at least; her childhood self would disagree. 

The only person’s opinion she cared about besides maybe the professional opinions of her King, were yours. She wanted you to think highly and goodly of her, in all aspects of her life, be it professional, personal, or intimate, and you did. This she knew, it still felt good to hear you say it though. 

Brienne’s eyes which had been screwed shut the entire time suddenly opened, looking up at you with curious eyes. She wanted to see how you’d react to all of her following ministrations, fascination, and wonder glinting in her beautiful eyes. 

She took your advice and adjusted accordingly, placing her tongue flat on your clit with the pressure to go with and dragged her tongue up, making you drawl out a throaty moan. “Oh, Gods! Feels so fucking good, so fucking good.” Your words were slurred, your voice low to avoid it being heard by anyone else than Brienne, your heavy breaths and hums only growing more and more ragged as the woman betwixt your legs worked her wet muscle against you. 

You’d had your share of love affairs before but that was nothing compared to this. The feeling of getting eaten out by the love of your life was like nothing you’d ever experienced before. Not even the meetings you used to have as a young adult in the local bathhouses felt as good as this did. 

Brienne was a beginner but a very quick learner, and she knew exactly how to pleasure you because she knew you and your body, playing it masterfully, playing it like an instrument; like she hadn’t done anything else. 

She was devoted to your pleasure, devoted to worshipping you and your pussy with her tongue. Nothing else mattered in this specific moment, only the feeling of your legs shuttering, your moany whimpers, and your fingers twisting in her hair did. 

The sounds inside the wheelhouse were right out of a brothel, moans mixed with the wet noises coming from Brienne as she used her mouth on you. She murmured against your clit, a whisper mostly to herself, but you had heard it too, “You taste so fucking good...” Her words combined with the intense eye contact made your head spin, your insides turning in the most pleasant way. 

Every stroke, lick, kiss, and suck from the blonde brought you closer to the edge of climax, the familiar warmth pooling in your stomach, legs twitching and hips bucking with every ripple of pure bliss that went through your body. The release was barreling towards you like a wild buck and you were so ready for the collision, ready to get sent into an endless vortex of pleasure. 

During the five months that you and Brienne had been apart, more and more tension began to build up inside of you, a knot forming in your stomach. You often found yourself thinking of that morning in the baths or the night before, and it never failed to make you a throbbing mess. You never found the time to rid yourself of it, so it just continued to grow, the knot only getting tighter. 

Months' worth of pent-up tension releasing would equal in an orgasm the size of a tsunami washing over you and you were made aware of this fact as the band inside of you tightened, and tightened, until it eventually snapped, untying the knot at the same time. 

Waves upon waves of ecstasy poured over you as your body convulsed with pleasure. Your back was arching, hips thrashing as you rode Brienne’s face to drag out your orgasm. Her hands that had been resting in the space between thigh and hip pushed down to keep you steadier, but still allowing you to grind against her mouth. 

The hand in the blonde hair loosened as you came down from your peak, stroking her messy curls instead, hoping to smooth down the mess you had surely made of her locks. Brienne had removed her head from your sex, drawing languid circles with her fingers on your skin. Gorgeous blue eyes gazing up at you with awe as they watched your breathing grow steady. 

The Lord Commander leaned back on her heels, your hand sliding off her head as she moved out of your reach, removing herself from your legs, sloping to grab your clothes. Her chin was covered in your juices, and you made a mental note to get that cleaned up before you left the carriage. 

She grabbed your ruined undergarments and reached out a hand to give them to you where you sat, the hand that had been placed flat on the wood beside you the entire session was brought up to push her hand away, “they’re already soaked, you might as well use them to wipe your chin.” A breathless chuckle passed your lips as you spoke, Brienne looking at you comically. 

She muttered a quick ‘sorry’ before using a dry part of the cloth to dry her chin, removing any trace of your activities. She reached out a hand with them again and this time you accepted them, putting them on and wincing at the uncomfortable feeling of your wet and cold underwear, luckily you were heading home as soon as your mother was finished, and you could change. 

Your trousers were handed to you shortly after to be put on and buckled, as well as your tasset, and finally your boots. 

“Come here.” Brienne did as she was told and shuffled close to you, kneeling down at your side so you were at eye level. “My beautiful girl,” bringing a hand up to her cheek, you traced her skin with your fingers, inching closer to her face to give her a kiss. 

It was a gentle one, soft and tender, and you could sense the taste of you on her lips. “I love you.” It was a whisper against her lips, a promise for now and the future until you could tell her every day. 

“I love you, too. I do not like the idea that we must leave each other once again,” Brienne let out a sad sigh and turned her head away from you to stare at the carriage door. You were not entirely happy with the situation either but there was nothing to be done until you were no longer needed. “Come with me.” 

Your eyes widened at her words. Had you heard her correctly? “W- What?” Shock was painted across your features, your voice trying to remain steady, but you were too taken aback to bother with that, slightly shaking with perplexity seeping through. 

She turned her head to look at you once again, her expression deadly serious. She wasn’t jesting or posing any what-ifs. “Come with me to Kings Landing. I will ask for King Bran’s attention and request for him to recruit you into the King's Guard. We need more knights, and I know you would be the perfect fit.” This was wishful thinking. The Kings Guard?  

Quickly exhaling and inhaling, your face furrowed together in empathy, you too shared her want to travel to Kings Landing and spend all eternity by her side until death released you from your vows, but your mother needed you. “Brienne, I-” 

“Yes. I know. Your mother. But, please, just. Just consider it.” Her eyes and words were begging, her eyebrows raised in hope, wishing that you’d say yes; that you’d consider it. 

“I will consider it.” The smile that spread on your Commander's lips was infectious, causing you to do the same. Her eyes lit up like stars in the night sky, twinkling just the same. They really were as deep and vast as the galaxy, holding just as many uncharted and unexplored areas. 

A knocking on the door caused you and Brienne to snap out of your staring competition, instinctively putting distance between each other, you shooting over to the other side and retrieving your scabbard, the woman across from you doing the same with hers. 

The muffled voice of the coachman came from the outside, signaling that you had been in there for far too long, “Ser! I think your mother is all finished and ready to leave. Is everything alright in there?” You took a quick look at Brienne, her curls strewn across her forehead, and you motioned for her to comb her fingers through her locks to tidy it up a little. 

“Yes, everything is quite alright. We are finished and are coming out. Thank you!” You and Brienne snorted at you using ‘finished’ considering you did just that, you were acting a little immature, laughing at such a thing; but you felt like young adults sneaking around and that earned a tiny bit of immaturity. 

The woman sharing your space looked at you questionably, a silent query asking ‘does my hair look okay?’ you nodding as an answer. 

Quickly pulling aside all the curtains inside the wheelhouse to let the light in, you gave Brienne one last long kiss before opening the door and stepping out into the hot Dorne sun. Your coachman stood outside, eyeing you both, obviously wondering what had taken so long but decided not to ask. 

“Walk with me?” Turning your head to look up at her, Brienne only nodded, letting you take the first step and her following you with steps to match your stride. She often did this when you walked together, coordinating her pace with yours so she wouldn’t race ahead and you not being able to keep up. It was a slight adjustment, but a very thoughtful one. 

When you approached the water-bound vessel your mother was on, she wore the biggest grin as she looked from you to Brienne, her expression a drastic change from the melancholic mood she had adopted as her default since your father passed. 

It was unnerving seeing such a display of teeth after only seeing a frown for so long, but you assumed she recognized the taller woman beside you based on your very detailed explanations of her appearance.  

Your mother stepped off the ship, the captain she had spoken to earlier barking orders to his men to ready the ship so they could transport the rest of the wares as she reached land. 

Brienne had stopped her walk, the same as you, still by your side a couple of feet away from your mother. Close enough that you could hear each other over the cacophony of people, but far enough that your mother wouldn’t be able to tell what you had been doing. 

“Brienne, this is my mother. Mother, this is Lord Commander Brienne.” Your mother had her head slightly cocked to the side, a caring and loving look on her face as you introduced them to each other.  

The situation in which you had told your parents about Brienne had been completely unplanned. It had been on a hot night shortly after your arrival by your father's bedside as he asked you about Winterfell. 

It had only really been a simple question of what your obligations had been, however, the second you had mentioned Brienne’s name, your mother grew intrigued, wanting to probe and prod after hearing the tone and manner of words you used when speaking about the then Ser. 

Her clever questions and your oblivious answers caused you to reveal more than you had intended to, and suddenly your parents knew all about the nature of your relationship.  

“M’Lady.” Your knightly blonde stayed as formal as always to leave a good first impression. Giving your mother a more drawn-out nod, she left her head tilted down longer than she usually did, deciding to be more casual in her greeting considering the fact that it was your parent. 

“So, you’re Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. I’ve heard so much about you.” Brienne took a panicked glance at you, hoping you hadn’t spoken about the five months of errors on her end that would surely not be appreciated by your mother. You only gave her a reassuring smile back. 

“Just Brienne is fine, and only good things, I hope.” The worry in her voice was obvious to you, it goes unnoticed by your mother. Brienne was good at hiding her true reactions to things when the situation called for it, and this was definitively one of those situations. 

“Brienne it is. Positive things only, my dear. The joy you have brought my child is unmeasurable, and I am so grateful.” A goofy smile spread on the blonde woman's lips, a combination of relief and glee at learning that you had abstained from telling your mother about her shortcomings, if she did know; Brienne was sure your mother wouldn’t be as friendly as she currently was towards her. 

“They have brought me the same amount, M’Lady. Your child is truly exceptional, never met anyone quite like them.” Brienne’s smile changed into a sincere one as she spoke, her voice filled with warmth. Seeing them interact so effortlessly made you all giddy, staring at the tall Commander beside you with a lovestruck expression. 

“Why don’t you come back to Lemonwood with us, Brienne. Have supper with us, maybe spend a few nights at our residence, we’d love to host you.” This was really an excuse for your mother to spend time with your knight, to get to know the person her child had fallen madly in love with. 

If your father were still alive, you were sure he would sit right beside your mother as they asked Brienne question after question. The image in your mind made you smile fondly. Your father really would have loved to meet her, they would find that their opinions matched on many different matters. 

“That sounds very pleasant, and I would love to accept but I am afraid I am unable to. I need to get back to Kings Landing.” The twinge of sadness in her words did not stay hidden from either you or your mother. The reminder that time was not on your side bared itself once again, and no number of prayers could change the fact that you and Brienne had to part. 

“Yes, of course. How unfortunate. Perhaps another time?” Your mother did not back down, she laid out a long-standing offer, meaning that sooner or later, Brienne would sit at her dinner table, and she’d be able to learn all about the mysterious woman before her. 

“I’d love to take you up on that offer. Perhaps if I am dispatched to Dorne for a longer period of time.” You could tell that Brienne was being polite, yet she seemed genuine in her words. The moment she’d set foot inside the walls of your home, you were sure she would come to regret taking your mother up on the offer. She liked her privacy, and your mother liked prodding. Them together was not a feasible pairing. 

“Of course, just send a raven ahead of time so we can prepare, other than that you are always welcome to our home. It was a pleasure to finally meet you, Brienne.” She liked the pretty knight, you could tell. You could also tell that she was itching to get on the road, ready to talk your ear off and tease you about your behavior around the blonde. 

It was all with good intentions, something she did when you were young and had an infatuation with someone. 

“You too, M’Lady.” 

“Safe travels.” She spoke her final words to Brienne before shifting her attention to you, “I will give you two a moment, come find me when you’re done.” With this, she walked back to the still-docked ship she had previously been on, spectating as the crewmen scattered around on deck to get everything ready for departure. 

You turned to look at Brienne, her doing the same, a crestfallen expression gracing her features. Your face matching hers, “I sent Bartholomew off with another message this morning. Reply this time, please.” 

“Bartholomew?” Even though she was incredibly disheartened, an amused and quizzical look took over her face. 

“Yes. One of our message ravens. His real name is Branoc, but I named him Bartholomew the Raven the First. It was whimsical to me.” You lovingly smiled at Brienne, and she reciprocated, smiling with just as much adoration back. 

She chuckled slightly, “I see. I will read yours and send one back with Bartholomew the Raven the First. I swear, no more miscommunication.” Her words were true, no more silence from her end, no more misery. 

“Good. Well, off you go.” Tears were starting to well up in your eyes, you didn’t want to let her go, did not want to watch her leave but you were afraid there was no other choice. You could see Podrick in the distance behind Brienne, waiting for her to board the ship so they could return back. 

“I will be looking forward to hearing your decision when you have given thought to my offer. I love you. Please come back to me soon.” She was dragging this out, wanting your goodbye to last as long as possible so your time wouldn’t be cut short so soon. 

“I will try. I love you.” Gazing up into her eyes, you took her hands in yours, an action overlooked by the mass amount of people around you. “Now go. Ser Podrick is waiting for you.” 

“Farewell, for now, Ser.” Squeezing your hands, Brienne let go of them and straightened her back, hand resting on its usual place on the hilt of her sword; looking down at you with an over-enthusiastically assertive face, making you giggle a tiny bit. 

“Farewell for now, Lord Commander.” One long glance was exchanged before Brienne turned on her heels and started marching over to where Podrick was standing. The last you saw of her tall figure was her boarding the ship and her disappearing below deck. 

Walking up to your mother, you grabbed her attention by tapping her gently on the shoulder, her turning around to face you. “I will allow two questions on the ride back, and that is it.” Setting these boundaries with your mother rarely worked, but this time you were serious, dead set on maintaining some seclusion. 

“Two questions are all I’ll need.” 

——— 

Two weeks had passed since the events in Planky Town, and you had let it slip to your mother that Brienne had proposed to speak to the King on your behalf. A couple days after she had learned this, she miraculously didn’t need your services anymore, leaving you free to do whatever you wished. 

The first thing you did was send a raven to Brienne, telling her that you reflected on her proposal, that you accept, and to expect you the following week. 

Directly after this, you had traveled to Sunspear. Letting Prince Martell know that you would no longer be able to assist in whatever he needed. Considering you never swore your services to him and that it was purely a means to keep the ‘protect the innocents’ part of your knightly oath going; the only thing he could do was to thank you for your help and to let you leave. 

Packing whatever you needed for your trip, you said your goodbyes to your mother and later that day, you were on a ship heading for Kings Landing. It was another one of your family’s ones, and considering they were already heading up north, they allowed you to ride along in exchange for your assistance in carrying the goods, which you gladly assisted with. 

That all led to you standing at the dock of Kings Landing where the tall woman stood and awaited you. Walking up to her, you took a glance around before looking up at her with feigned confusion. “Excuse me, I’m supposed to meet Lord Commander Brienne of Tarth. Do you know where I could find her?” 

Brienne smiled playfully, lightly shoving your shoulder, causing you to grin up at her. “You’re not funny, you know?” 

“That smile on your face would suggest otherwise.” You were teasing her; she knew you were. You wanted to engage in small banter before diving right into serious King’s Guard business, but Brienne was eager for you to get integrated and fitted so she could take you to her private quarters and cuddle you. 

“We can continue this later. Let’s go see the King. He’s looking forward to meeting you.” Brienne began leisurely trekking, you following after her. The sun reflected so perfectly in her gold plates as she journeyed towards the large gate, eventually traveling under it.

You found yourself in shadows for a brief period of time before the light hit your face as you emerged from the dark, stepping out into Fishmonger’s Square. 

From there you walked straight until you took a right, walking down The Hook and you couldn’t do much but gape at the Red Keep where it stood, large and marvelous, fit for a King of the Six Kingdoms. As you passed through the curved street, you and Brienne kept up a mindless conversation, not talking about anything important, really, just chatting, enjoying each other’s company. 

After finally, reaching the end of The Hook, you were greeted with a set of stairs, going up Aegon’s High Hill. You looked to Brienne with annoyed exhaustion, and she laughed, stating that ‘the leg muscles you get from this makes it worth it, I promise.’ She was being goofy, trying to change your expression into one less irritated, and it worked; she always knew how to make you smile like a fool. 

She motioned for you to go first, and you did, knowing that if you lost balance or fell, Brienne would be there to catch you. She, on the other hand, wanted you to go first so she could be bestowed the privilege of having your ass as her view; she would never admit that though. 

About halfway up, the knight behind you asked if you wanted to take a break, but you declined, knowing that you were almost there. Give or take a few dozen steps. Brienne shrugged, staying close to your back in case your legs gave out. Even her thighs were burning. 

Even though you walked a few steps above her, you still only reached Brienne’s forehead and she found it amusing that someone so short could have so much love, well, you were short to her; everyone was short to her. 

You ascended the very last stairstep, the Red Keep towering and looming above you. It was even more intimidating and glorious up close, and you had to crane your neck to even get remotely close to the peak of it. You had to stop yourself from releasing a ‘whoa’ but settled with subtle gawking instead; subtle being eyes and mouth wide open. 

Brienne passed your still-standing person, giggling at your amazement, “come on, you silly girl. You can revel in the spectacularism later.” You shook yourself out of your current state when hearing her fond tone, coming to join your blonde Commander by the large doors. 

Brienne entered the large building, making sure you were behind her, allowing you to step up to her side. The insides of the building were equally as grand as the outside, a home fit for a King, you thought. You refrained from commenting on the vision that was the Red Keep, but you were fairly certain your knight already knew what you were thinking by the awestruck countenance you had. 

When you entered the Throne Room, your former face had been switched to a solemn one, showing that you were a very serious knight who hadn’t been staring at the building you were currently in open-mouthed. 

There were two other people in the large space besides you and Brienne. A much shorter man with curly hair, and the King, who sat on his throne which had been moved down from its previous placement so that Bran could lift himself into it. 

Brienne leaned down to your ear, talking to you in a hushed tone, “That’s King Brandon Stark, which I assume you know. And the bloke next to him is Lord Hand Tyrion Lannister.” You only hummed in response as she rose to her full height once again. 

Tyrion had noticed the blonde's change in mood the second she had returned from Dorne. No longer staring off into nothingness and getting lost in her thoughts. No longer hiding away and sharpening every sword known to man or obsessively counting in the armory. 

He had been wondering what the cause for this sudden change in her behavior was, but now that he saw the way she looked at you, the way her eyes lit up as she spoke, and how you acted the same towards her; he drew his own conclusions. He was sure to tease her about this at a later date. 

Brienne and you stopped before the King, kneeling in front of him. He called you both up to stand straight, the Lord Commander marching up to stand by her King's side, you standing firmly in place. 

“Your Grace.” You kept your eyes fixated on Bran, very aware of Brienne’s eyes on you. You could see her in the corner of your eye, she looked so exalted and heroic standing next to the King in her gold armor and white cloak. 

“Lord Brienne speaks very highly of you. She has stated very clearly that she would fight by your side and that she trusts you with her life.” You had to hold back a grin at his words, she spoke just as highly of you as you did of her, “I have heard of your accomplishments on the battlefield, and I must say that I am impressed.” 

“Thank you, Sire.”  

You had spent the journey here memorizing the oath you had to swear. It was a mighty long one, but it had eventually stuck, and you were sure it would never unstick. You didn’t quite know when you were supposed to swear it, hoping Brienne would give you some sort of signal for when it was time. 

Luckily, there was no need for that, King Bran gave you his own very clear instructions with his words, “I would be a fool to not have you in my Kings Guard, especially when my own Lord Commander was essentially bragging about your skills.” At this, Brienne’s head slumped down to hide a smile that crept up on her lush lips, she was a little bit embarrassed at him exposing her. Yet at the same time she was grateful for it because now you knew just how much she wanted you here with her unless any of her other words hadn’t been enough. “Kneel.” 

Brienne looked at you with enthusiasm, her pride for you shining brightly in the dimly lit room. She observed as you got down onto your knee once again, barely able to contain her large grin. The corners of her lips twitched, and she was sure that if either of the men beside her were to see it; they would question the reason why she actually wanted you here. She could want you here for two reasons, no? One selfish, one for the good of the kingdom. 

Your sword skills matched hers, and to have you next to her would put her so much more at ease. She was well aware that she was an exceptional sword fighter, but to have two with the same skill was calming, knowing that you would both go through hell and high water to get back to the other alive.  

Having such a drive force can be lifesaving in dire and lethal situations, especially when your job is to protect the King; riots hadn’t been uncommon in the past, but hopefully, there would be none now that there was new and better leadership. 

“I swear to ward the King with all my strength, and to give my blood for his. I shall take no wife, hold no lands, mother no children. I shall guard his secrets, obey his commands, ride at his side, and defend his name and honor.” 

What you didn’t seem to notice even though you kept your eyes fixed on Bran, was his slight eyebrow quirk at the fact that you chose to replace father with mother, but wife remained, just as it had with Brienne’s oath. 

“Arise.” 

Brienne practically beamed at you as you got up from your knee, almost overzealously volunteering to take you to your fitting when Bran and Tyrion started discussing it. The shorter one of the two stared at her with an astute look, mouthing ‘real smooth, Lord Brienne,’ a teasing smile on his face. 

The tall blonde shot him one of her signature glares in return, staring at him pointedly and he knew he was going to have fun messing with her about this. Maybe he’ll ask her if she’s still a virgin, maybe her answer had changed since the last time he asked. He was sure it had, but he wanted to hear her say it. 

“Your Grace. I will take our newest recruit for measurements, then show them their quarters. Leave it to me.” Bran didn’t think much of Brienne’s willingness, he thought her to be a strange character sometimes and this was one of those times. He just simply nodded to show that she was sanctioned to do just that. 

“Lord Commander. Ser. You are both dismissed.” Brienne trotted over to your side, ready to lead you away from the large room. 

“Yes. Your Grace.” Speaking unanimously, you and the tall blonde bowed before taking your exit. Side by side, you roamed the regal halls of the Red Keep, and you couldn’t stop yourself from staring in wonderment again, nearing the exit of said building. 

Brienne found your extreme fascination and wonder endearing, her heart fluttering at your childlike enthusiasm and admiration, her insides all warm, her stomach filling with butterflies as she watched your wonderstruck face. 

The descent of the stairs was much more forgiving than the ascent and you had found yourself walking down The Kings Road that winded through Kings Landing, and as you walked, Brienne explained to you that you had two stops to make, one at the armorer for measurements for your new plates and gambeson, and a second at the tailor, for new tunics and trousers, but also for your long white cloak. 

She spoke to you the entire time about what she had been up to the five months you were apart, stating that it was too much to be written on paper, as you navigated the streets of Kings Landing to make your errands. 

It all went smoothly and eventually, Brienne had taken you to the White Sword Tower, where your chambers were located. “I managed to get your room next to mine, so we can easily sneak in between if we wish.” Her voice was hushed and her tone mischievous as she showed you her quarters, and then yours. You smiled at her words; she hadn’t changed one bit. 

“Come into mine. I wish to show you something.” Suddenly her voice and face turned candid, opening the door to her room and allowing you to walk in before her, closing it after entering the quarters herself. 

She immediately walked up to her hearth, starting a warming and crackling fire, and then moved to the armor stand in her room, beginning the removal process of each piece of her golden plates. 

You couldn’t help but look at the back of her head with a puzzled expression. It was getting close to sunset, but not close enough to warrant Brienne unstrapping her armor. She usually kept it on until bedtime, and it was still light outside. 

Continuing her process, she spoke to you, voice soft and tender, “Go look in that book over there.” She twitched her head quickly, motioning you in the direction she wanted you to go. 

Walking over to her bed table, your eyes landed on a book. Brienne didn’t seem like the type of person who would be interested in dramatic literature. “The book isn’t of importance; I just picked a random one. Look inside.” 

You looked back at Brienne, only having her gambeson left to remove, but had stopped for a second to turn her head to look at you, offering an encouraging smile. Shifting your gaze back to the book, you picked it up and opened the worn-out leather cover. The paper inside seemed to stare back at you with accusing eyes. 

It was tear-stained, obvious marks on the spots the Lord Commander’s tears had landed. You were almost certain about what the parchment was, your speculations were only confirmed when you removed it from the pages and unfolded it; your handwriting from five months ago glaring at you. 

“You kept it?” This was surely a painful memory for Brienne, why she opted to keep it you did not know. The evidence of her evening cries was clear on the slightly ripped note; she must’ve read this every single day. 

“Yes.” She was finally finished with her armor and gambeson and moved to join you by her bed. “I needed to have something of yours, and this was all I had.” She stopped in front of you, gently taking the book and letter from your hands, placing them back on the bed table before grabbing hold of your hands. “I read it every single night, desperately trying to remember your voice. But I- I couldn’t.” 

Her gaze shifted from yours to the floor, and you were hit with a surge of woe seeing her evade your eyes. You did not know why she felt the need to do so. Was she ashamed that she had forgotten your voice? Or maybe embarrassed admitting that she read your letter every night even if it reminded her of the dark winter evening by the stables? You did not know, and you didn’t want to ask, not now at least. 

“Darling,” one of your hands tangled itself out of Brienne’s to softly lift her chin up, so you could look into her magnificent irises. “I forgot your voice too. No matter, though. We’ll be able to hear each other's voice every day from now on.” She smiled down at you with sad eyes, an unasked question in the air that you both wanted to ask, the taller woman being the actual one to ask it. 

“Will you let me hold you, please? I wish to hold you.” It was almost like she was shy, acting like it was the beginning stage of your relationship once again, and in a way it kind of was. You were in need of her warmth, her closeness, and the strong enveloping of her large and long arms. For her to hold you tight and never let go, desperate to be back in her embrace once again. 

You responded by kissing her tenderly on her lips, removing your hand from her chin, and using the one still in her hand to drag her down onto the bed with you. Both you and Brienne were still fully clothed, an error that needed to be resolved; you wanted to feel her hot skin against yours once again like you had done so many moons ago. “I want to feel your bare flesh against mine, please.” 

Brienne watched you lovingly and fondly, nodded, and started to remove her clothing, stripping down to her undergarments. It was nothing sexual, just the need to feel the entirety of her against you; an animalistic urge to feel a sense of security. You followed suit, undressing with haste, folding up your clothes, and placing them next to hers at the foot of the bed. 

Your blonde knight in shining armor crawled under the covers and laid down on her side, holding the fur up for you so you could do the same. Lifting up the same arm that had been holding the cover as you did. 

She wasted no time in slinging the same limb around you when you had laid down next to her, pulling you close to her, your back against her front. Her face nuzzling into your neck, breathing in your scent. 

Her strong musk and arms encompassed you, the faint and familiar smell of fresh grass and light sweat overwhelming your senses once again. You were completely intoxicated by her proximity, you couldn’t think, your mind was scrambled, heart racing. 

She started pressing soft kisses to your skin, supple lips ghosting over your neck and shoulder, making you release a sigh. Brienne whispered against your skin, her breath slightly tickling you. “Tell me what you did in Dorne during the five months we were apart. Catch me up, please.” You were more than happy to. 

As you started to recount the events that had occurred over the past five months, Brienne’s hold around you tightened, attempting to have you even closer to her which at this point was impossible. There was barely any space left between you, not even a small air pocket. 

Your legs were tangled with her incredibly long ones, fingers drawing mindless circles on her arm as you told her about your journey to Dorne, your father’s passing, and your family’s trader business. 

Brienne hummed every once in a while, to let you know that she was listening, her arm around you strong like cement. As she pressed a barely felt but burning kiss to the skin behind your ear, you realized that you were finally back where you were always meant to be. 

In Brienne’s arms.

–––

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WIP Wednesday

It's still Wednesday somewhere, right? Got tagged by @the-darkness-does-not-bargain, so here's a little something from the upcoming final chapter of my Bridgerton AU:

“Try this one.”  Beatrice held out a small black candy with the outline of a castle stamped into it. Ava cast her gaze about the confectionary, resplendent with sweet delights in all manner of colors and shapes, and concluded that this offering must be a ruse of some sort, a poisoned “candy” meant to lay low the humorless sort who might favor them and, through dourness of countenance and deficit of congeniality, undermine the bounty and joy that should otherwise prevail in the establishment. “Is it poison?  It’s poison, isn’t it.”  Ava found that, as her comfort in Beatrice’s presence grew, so too did her willingness to speak her mind, however outrageous her thoughts might be at any given moment.  “Or are you trying to intoxicate me, so you can drag me off somewhere without any trouble?” Beatrice smiled at her over her hand, upon the thumb and middle finger of which the object perched, menacingly.  “Perhaps I am only attempting to level the playing field.” “How do you mean?” Beatrice leaned in close and whispered in Ava’s ear.  “You always intoxicate me.” Ava blushed and smiled and shook her head, basking in the warmth that accompanied her when Beatrice, her Beatrice, the Viscount Bridgerton, flirted outrageously with her in public.  She wrapped herself more tightly around Beatrice’s arm, not to prevent any distance between them, but because of a deep-seated desire that she should be closer to Beatrice, impossibly closer.  Impossible in public, in any event. “So it is poison.” Beatrice did not so much as bat an eye.  “You think there’s something fishy about it.  Or would you prefer it to be fish-shaped?  I’m sure they can arrange a custom order.” Ava ducked her head and strove mightily to keep a rein on the smile that blossomed on her lips, though she succeeded only in keeping her teeth from showing.  “Are you trying to impress me with bilingual puns?” A dangerous glint appeared in Beatrice’s eye, and Ava found herself in the mood for risk.  “I always try to impress you,” Beatrice whispered, “especially with my–” She was interrupted, loudly, by Lady Superion clearing her throat behind them.  “When I agreed to chaperone the two of you for this little excursion, I did not do so in order to learn for myself how incapable you are of restraining yourselves in public.  I recognize that you perhaps consider yourselves wed already in your own minds, but please, for the love of God, do try to control yourselves even slightly.”

Tagging in @thistleation, @baez-atwitsend, @pinechips, and @willowedhepatica

[ourflagmeansgayrights]

ofmd s2e1 rewatch where i pause to jot down my thoughts and other random shit

not quite a reaction post bc i've already watched the whole thing. not quite a liveblog bc it's one post and it's probably gonna take me a full hour to get through a 28 minute episode at the rate of pausing and typing i'll be doing

s2e1, s2e2, s2e3, s2e4, s2e5, s2e6, s2e7, s2e8

anyway, pirate time:

i love how much fun con is having choking on his own blood

dream!stede's extremely teary face right before he takes off running down the beach is doing psychic damage to me

also dream!stede's stupid ridiculous outfit with all the long ribbons and shit...

ed and stede make contact so hard shjfkhsgjkfd the loud OUGH sounds from both of them

also the return of ed's old beard! i didnt expect to see her at all this season, so that was a surprise.

"babe" "love" im tearing out my own hair

stede has yet to learn that ripping ass near your beloved can be a love language

stede is a terrible fucking roommate just deal with wee john's gas in silence like the rest of them. goddamn.

WHO HAS THE OUR FLAG MEANS DEATH TRAMP STAMP. WHO IS THAT.

i like when the background OST is familiar to me lol the little strings when stede starts his letter throwing me back to s1

olu: that–that's the swede the swede: Im the swede roach: he's single ;) me: *pissing my pants with laughter*

also the direct confirmation that the swede literally doesn't have a name. incredible

shjkfhdhfkj the crew encouraging him. stede's "it's okay" and roach "be brave" im CRYINGGGGG

stede doing customer service is something that can be so personal. "reservation?" "eat my fuckin' shit" "right! walk-ins, then" average restaurant experience

the random background guy saying "my favorite hand!" abt getting stabbed in the hand is making me giggle. i love the humor on this show

why does stede have so much shoulder movement going on when he's walking through the bar. whore behavior.

"this is for mom!" sorry but i want to know more abt whatever's going on there

also the purple mohawk. dope.

buttons is so distressed LET HIM RETURN TO THE SEA THESE CONDITIONS ARE INHUMANE

"i know the odds of you finding this are slim but so were the odds of us finding each other in the first place" IM RIPPING OFF MY OWN SKIN

also stede's lil sad hopeful smile after throwing the bottle... i care him

i love how they make this wedding fucking suck so we don't feel too bad abt the whole massacre thing. "the natural condition of humanity is base and vile. it is the obligation of people of standing, such as yourselves, to elevate the common human rabble through the sacred transaction of matrimony" if i was at a wedding and the officiant said that i'd also start killing people probably

yayy murder montage :)

FANG BREAKING THAT GUY'S SPINE OVER HIS KNEE

the whole cake scene is so fucking funny im sorry. i love u jim drawing the line at attacking a shitty wedding. i love u archie who wasn't here for the good old days so you dont really see a problem with how things are. i love u frenchie with ur box in ur brain that u never open again. i love u fang it's gonna get better i swear. i love u frenchie again bc u just took the cake right out of fang's hands while he was fucking sobbing hfjhgkjhdkjkf

I MISS IVAN JUSTICE FOR IVAN. wish they could've said he'd just fucked off somewhere instead of dying but i think that would've raised the question of why hasn't anyone else fucked off since they all seem so miserable

very relieved that stede isn't taking the racist/antisemitic caricature drawings of ed to make like a boyfriend scrapbook like some people were theorizing. would've been overkill if after episode 4 from last season stede still didn't realize that ed hated these sorts of depictions of him.

INTERESTING DETAIL THO the background music in this scene is "a pirate's life" aka the song frenchie sang in the pilot. it's an instrumental version obviously but yeah i recognize that tune

also more cool background ppl with dyed hair man i love this show

zheng yi sao flirting with olu is so good. he deserves it.

how nice of ed to offer his drugs to the crew. sharing is caring.

also it's so funny to me that the thing izzy is tormented by is ed saying "you can't do the job, someone else will" the toe thing's happened three times and apparently that was fine but the thing the show edits together right before izzy breaks down into the most pathetic aheemheem whimpers isn't any of that it's ed threatening to fire him

also they cut ed throwing knives at izzy!! what the hell.

releasing the clip of izzy crying kinda ruined it for me when it came time to watch it in the show bc i watched it several times since it dropped and now seeing it in context i was like "ok i've seen this already fast forward." i mean i didnt fast forward through it but i did kinda zone out bc i've seen this bit already. this post kinda sums up my thoughts on it

"trifling ingrate plan" dshkjfshgdskhfjkhgkjh

"SEMI-CLEAN WATER"

JACKIE CALLING THE SWEDE "BOO CAKES"

"i know that guy we had breakfast together!" "you'll be having a lot of breakfasts-es together" "oh, okay" i fucking love this whole dynamic like i can tell they're writing the swede out of most of the episodes for budget reasons (sorry nat faxon) but by god do they give him such an excellent fucking send-off. can't wait to see him again when he's in his trophy husband number 20 era

roach is upset abt not being able to cook, buttons is tied up so he doesn't go running back to the sea (i assume). stede you are not giving your crew the environment they need to thrive.

olu being an optimist :)

buttons opens his mouth to drink the rain and in the background u can see roach yanking the rope around buttons back fhdjskgfjhgkjfh STEDE YOUR SEA WITCH CANNOT THRIVE IN THESE CONDITIONS

stede tries to make things sound good in his bottle letters to ed but out loud he says his actual insecurities... it's so fucking tasty tho that he thinks ed could be doing better without him and THAT'S why he's been stalling so much. not afraid for his life even a little bit he just assumes he's not wanted. brb i have to cry now

"im sorry if that's a little bit creepy" "you are creepy" in this scene where they're soaked from the rain. ofmd said this prince ricky guys is creepy and wet.

stede's fucking FACE when prince ricky says "you're my hero" his fucking "clearly you dont own an air fryer" face I CANT STAND HIMMMMMM (affectionate)

prince ricky "these rubes" "men of our standing" yeah i cant fucking stand this guy (derogatory) i love how he's barely even in this episode

stede's face when the swede is talking abt how happy he is with jackie... my man believes in love so much im gonna cry

also in what fucking way does the swede owe them a life debt. roach and buttons literally tried to eat him

izzy's "you know me better than anyone knows me and i daresay the same about you" this is literally so false i dont even know where to begin. izzy in e6 being like "if i didnt know any better i'd think maybe ed might possibly maybe be actually enjoying bonnet's company" while ed and stede are giggling and making each other friendship bracelets. this guy doesn't know ed at all.

also i cant get over how izzy wont make eye contact he's like staring blankly into the middle distance delivering these lines so flatly until he goes to say "i have... love for you" and in that moment he looks like he'd rather ed were feeding him more toes.

"im worried about you, we all are" not gonna lie my dude you've had a weird way of showing it thus far. where was all that worry when you told him he was better off dead than wearing a robe and singing songs?? where was that fucking love then?

and NOW izzy wants to talk it through. izzy literally voted to make blackbeard great again and now he wants to give open communication a chance???

lmao there's a limit to how many characters can be in a bulleted list so here's fucking. part two. on the same post:

ed asking everyone if the vibe is poisonous and fang cant stop crying and ed's face is just like "eh good enough" im fdhksgfkjtdkh

anyway ed with a loaded gun under his chin talking to himself is hurting me so fucking much actually. ed my beloved babygirl for whom i would die. this poor traumatized man. yes he is making this workplace toxic as hell but god. GOD. im gonna throw up.

the way ed is so fucking casual about shooting izzy in the leg. just calm and jovial as he promotes frenchie to first mate. stepping over izzy all crumpled on the floor. everything about this is so fucking good. i mean it's horrible for ed and everyone around him but for me watching the show this shit is DELICIOUS. i love when the pirates get violent and unhinged i love when this shit gets fucked up. ed's mental state is so bad right now and it is causing me severe anguish but also it is so tasty. fuck.

anyway frenchie trying to turn down the promotion fhjkghdfjkhf

the cut to the swede performing the husbandly duties is INSANE. COMPLETE TONAL WHIPLASH. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

"fuck those hammies up!" spanish jackie i love you

black pete why are you so fucking loud AND WHY WOULD YOU JIX IT LIKE THAT???

why is prince ricky so small. he's like a full head shorter than stede. also this guy is insufferable i love how stede just fucking abandons him fhjkgdhkdfghkj

"the calf muscle is the most mysterious of alllll the muscles" what the FUCK does that even mean. oh swede i will miss you

NOSE REMOVAL FUCK YES. I LOVE THIS SHOW.

obsessed with the swede playing dumb. the dramatic gasp. "wow, so bad!" fhjsghdkjf

"aint you that soup bitch?" "im the money bitch" i love women.

sfdsjkh spanish jackie being into double-crossing. and slapping the swede's ass on the way out. i love this show

i love how zheng says "this much indigo is worth three times what i paid" while spanish jackie and the husbands are still like, right there. and they just don't hear that bit. incredible.

OUGH the back of jim's weird rope armor looks like a ribcage that's so cool

i love how jim is so fucking bad at telling this story. i love how the monkey's paw comes into it. i love fang asking them to do the voice. i love archie trying to hold back her laughter i love jim and fang giggling together I LOVE THIS SHOW

ed's fucking voice breaking through his whole convo with frenchie. im tearing out my own teeth

HEY DID YOU GUYS KNOW THEY HAVE POST-CREDITS SCENES IN THIS SEASON?????????? WHAT THE HELL

i take back what i said about jim being bad at telling this story their version is so much fucking better. squeaky voice "I pray to you, Dark Lord, to make me real flesh! I want to be real flesh!" IM FUCKING OBSESSED. JIM I WOULD DIE FOR YOU

[oneforthemunny]

Piggy backing off the tramp stamp, Nepo Baby definitely has a custom bejewelled thong with ‘EDDIE’ in diamanté letter charms along the back string (and peeks over her jeans)

I do recall a Corroded Coffin thong(?) that she brought back for the Vegas wedding (and subsequent creation of Vega Jo)

yes yes!!! he’s a big fan of the low rise jean trend + that. huge fan of it really lol.

the corroded coffin thing that eddie has been known to tie his hair up on stage with lol. it’s iconic really with him and nb and their fans. she brought it back out for a reunion in vegas and… yeah that’s how vega was made lol.

eddie swears those two panties are magical. enchanted or something lol. calls them his good luck charms.

[ash-and-books]

Rating: 4/5

Book Blurb:

From New York Times bestselling and Hugo Award-winning author T. Kingfisher comes A Sorceress Comes to Call—a dark reimagining of the Brothers Grimm's "The Goose Girl," rife with secrets, murder, and forbidden magic.

*The hardcover edition features a foil stamp on the casing and custom endpapers illustrated by the author.*

Cordelia knows her mother is . . . unusual. Their house doesn’t have any doors between rooms—there are no secrets in this house—and her mother doesn't allow Cordelia to have a single friend. Unless you count Falada, her mother's beautiful white horse. The only time Cordelia feels truly free is on her daily rides with him.

But more than simple eccentricity sets her mother apart. Other mothers don’t force their daughters to be silent and motionless for hours, sometimes days, on end. Other mothers aren’t evil sorcerers.

When her mother unexpectedly moves them into the manor home of a wealthy older Squire and his kind but keen-eyed sister, Hester, Cordelia knows this welcoming pair are to be her mother's next victims. But Cordelia feels at home for the very first time among these people, and as her mother's plans darken, she must decide how to face the woman who raised her to save the people who have become like family.

Review:

A dark reimagining of the Brothers Grimm's "The Goose Girl" filled with magic, murder, family drama, and a dash of romance. Cordelia knows her mother is not like other mothers... especially since her mother has the ability to control Cordelia physically. Cordelia lives her life restrained, in fear, forced to be obedient to her mother... and all she wants to do is escape. Yet when her mother moves them from their home into a manor of a wealthy Squire whom she plans on wedding... things take a turn. Cordelia finally finds herself having more companions and knows she has to save the Squire and his sister from her mother before they become her next victims. Yet what can a girl with no powers do against a sorceress and who will believe her? Cordelia finally feels like she's found a home with these people... but her mother's plans threaten to destroy everything and its up to Cordelia to find the courage to face the woman who raised her to save the people who have become like family to her. This was a delightful fairytale reimagining and it definitely deals with family relationships and abuse. I really enjoyed the character dynamics and the story pacing was so well done. It's definitely a quick read and really lets you step into the world. It's a fun read that I would absolutely recommend for anyone who wants a fairytale retelling or a complicated mother-daughter story with a dash of murder, magic, and found family!

Release Date: August 6,2024

Publication/Blog: Ash and Books (ash-and-books.tumblr.com)

*Thanks Netgalley and Tor Publishing Group | Tor Books for sending me an arc in exchange for an honest review*

[starlightshadowsworld]

The new Hopper part 5

Part 4

Trigger warning for Vance having a flashback, blood. And what some might call an excessive use of the word "mother fucker."

But this is a fic staring Vance Hopper, so you should have expected this at some point.

.

Jim Hopper was not one people usually thought of as smart.

He'd be one of the first to tell you. And he didn't care to be, he'd leave that to the Joyce's and Nancy's of the world.

But Jim had always prided himself on his ability to read others.

He knew people.

Right now he knew more people than he had ever known. As terrifying a thought as that was, it was also a comforting one.

He knew people.

Good people.

Smart people.

Hurt people.

Jim knew what hurt looked like. Knew it from the moment El came into his care.

When he got to know Joyce.

His own reflection when Sara died.

Jim knew hurt and pain like an old friend. And so he knew just by looking at him, that someone had hurt his nephew.

Jim knew it wasn't his mother, Abigail "Gale" Hopper was one of the kindest people he'd ever met.

Nor his father, given he'd walked out on them when Vance was 3.

Back than Jim had offered her a place in Hawkins. And maybe deep down he missed her and wanted her close.

Not that he told her that.

But Gale had built a life in Denver and for all she and Jim differed, they were both incredibly stubborn.

And she was determined to make it work. He had to hand it to her, she had.

The two had stayed in contact through letters. One's they sent regularly and had done so for years.

Or at least they had, the letters had stopped on his end when Sara died.

He just stopped replying.

Stopped trying.

He couldn't bring himself to let anyone in. But the letters didn't stop on her side.

Even when a response was never given, Gale kept writing. She stopped asking questions, instead talking about her day.

Annoying customers at the local diner, the trouble her son was getting up to. Just updates about her life here and there.

He read them.

He didn't reply.

But he kept them.

It was the only connection he had to the world. To remind him he was human.

But their was a point where the letters became infrequent.

He never thought about it until Russia. Having all the time in the world to think.

He remembered looking at letters where the ink had smudged.

Where he couldn't even begin to decipher them.

Tear stains bleeding through.

At the time he hadn't thought anything of them.

In Russia he couldn't get them out of his head. That his sister, his sweet kind patient sister had been hurting.

And he had done nothing.

At some point the letters returned back to their normal format.

Almost like it had never happened.

But Jim couldn't erase them from his mind in prison.

He thought of Gale not knowing whether he was dead or alive.

Of how many hours she spent writing to him, putting away a certain amount just to be able to write to a brother who never write back.

And so Jim sat and he wrote. He smudged the ink in places and he took a while to get the darn stamp onto the envelope.

But he did it.

And he got one back.

And another.

And another.

Until they were both writing like time had never passed.

Perhaps that's why she felt so safe and sure to send her son into his care.

He'd met Vance once. He had been born before the wedding. While Gale and whatsisface had been giving their vows, Jim had been cradling Vance.

To think it was him in his home now, all grown up was something.

... Man he was old.

Looking at Vance now, Jim saw Gale in him. He had her long curly hair, her bright blue eyes.

And her smile.

Someone had hurt that boy.

Because for the fragments of things Jim knew about Vance, he was tough.

Kid got into fights regularly and it had taken multiple cops to pull him off someone at times.

Vance looked at Steve... Or rather Finney, he was still wrapping his head around that one. When Vance looked at him he was happy.

He was easy going, sat in a group of people he mostly didn't know and held his own.

But when Vance looked at Jim, all of that drained away.

It was a look Jim was familiar with.

The one Eddie Munson had when a younger Jim Hopper had told him he was taking him back to his dad.

The one El had when she saw Brenner.

The look Will had whenever he felt a chill on his neck.

The one Steve had when he'd had his ass kicked by Billy, and Jim had approached him and the kids.

Fear.

It hurt to watch these kids, these strong, dumbass, loving, hearts the size of houses, wonderful, amazing, kids... Look so utterly terrified and afraid.

It made Jim feel violent.

Made him want to tear down the world, burn it all to the ground just for hurting them.

Joyce had smiled at him softly, told him that's what parenthood is like.

Unclehood too apparently.

Jim had known from the moment Gale had handed him Vance in the delivery room to hold.

That he would burn this world and the next to the ground just protect this kid.

And he failed him.... He failed him just like Vance's father had, just as his own father had failed him.

That kid was terrified of him.

And if that didn't break Jim's already shattered heart.

He had to fix this.

Show Vance that he wasn't a threat, wasn't going to hurt him.

It was late, but he could start by checking up on him. Kid had travelled quite a ways here at the last minute and was staying in a strangers house.

But Jim didn't want to overcrowd him. He could make things worse going to him.

"Hop?"

Jim looked up and saw El standing beside him. He hadn't even noticed her coming in, too caught up in his own thoughts.

"Hey kid, can't sleep?"

She nodded, sitting beside him. They had a system these days, when they couldn't sleep at night and went to each other.

El hadn't trusted him for while either, they had gone through their own journey. And had come out the other side, together.

"Something on your mind?"

"Why... Why didn't you tell me that you had a sister?"

Jim softened "honestly, I hadn't told anyone I had one. Not because I didn't love her, but because we both loved our lives so seperately. I kept her far away for a long time... But I shouldn't have."

El sat silently, mulling it over and he let her think. "Okay, but will you tell me about her now?"

He nodded "whatever I know that you wanna know. She sends me letters, they don't come here directly I pick em from the post office. But you can look through em if you want."

She grinned at that before looking sad. "Vance is scared of you. Like I was scared of you. Why?"

That was the million dollar question wasn't it?

"I think he has his own bad men, or someone like them who hurt him. I don't think if was his mum, but I don't know who." He answered honestly.

El furrowed her brows, becoming determined. "I won't let any bad men hurt him. He's my... Cousin?" Jim nodded, proud.

He knew she would. Kid might not be his blood but she had his protectiveness.

He would too.

"Since we're both up, why don't we have some hot chocolate. You wanna go see if Vance is still up? He can join us if he wants too." That felt like a safe first step.

Vance might be more comfortable if it was El doing the asking.

She grinned, accepting it. "If he says yes, can we can have eggo's?" Jim shook his head "you can have eggo's tomorrow."

But he knew that look, El had her heart set and nothing he could do would change her mind. "... I suppose a few wouldn't hurt." He relented.

She cheered before making her way downstairs.

The things he did for these kids. Jim wondered if Vance liked eggo's too.

"Hop!"

He froze momentarily before getting his bearings and running to the basement.

His heart stopped.

The basement hadn't had many things in it to begin with. It had been neat and tidy earlier, and now it was trashed.

The wardrobe had been tipped over. The bed sheets had been ripped off. The mattress lay disgarded on the side of the room.

Vance's bag lay by the far wall, it's contents spilled out onto the floor.

Their was a sizable dent in the wall and to Hopper's horror, a bloody hand print.

He didn't have to search for Vance, El pointed a shaky hand to the bed.

Crammed underneath was Vance.

And if Hopper's heart hadn't already broke before it did not.

With the mattress gone he could see his nephew without anything shielding him from view .

Although he wished he couldn't.

Vance was curled up in a ball, it was something that he could even fit under the bed.

"Vance, it's Jim. It's your uncle Jim. Can I come over there?"

That was the wrong thing to say.

Blue eyes that weren't focusing on Jim, stared unflinchly at the air before him.

"Stay away from me, Motherfucker! Get near me, and I'll end you here and now, you sick fuck!"

Tears stained Vance's cheeks and his bleeding fist was curled up in the other, leaving a pool on the ground.

"You like that, motherfucker? Your little secret den all trashed because of me! What are you gonna do cry? Cry because your pathetic little kiddy den is as pathetic as you!"

Vance's eyes blazed but their was fear in them.

His whole body was trembling, making the bed creak just by being near him.

"Yeah! Yeah! Oh you wanna cry? Good! Cos today's the day this ends, motherfucker!"

Jim looked down at El. "El, El I need you to go upstairs." But she wasn't paying attention to him. Not that he could blame her.

But they needed to get help.

Vance had fallen silent, the mirth in his eyes fading. Going wide in terror... before he screamed.

"... No! No! Motherfucker! You put Griff down, you sick fuck! LET HIM GOO!!!"

That was the last straw for El who tried to run over to him. That snapped Jim back to attention and he stopped her.

"But he needs help!"

"I know, but we might accidentally make this worse." That stopped her from struggling, terrified at the concept.

"You want to help? Go upstairs to the phone, call Steve. Tell him what's going on with Vance, tell him to bring Robin and come as soon as he can. If he doesn't pick up, call Family Video, the numbers are on the fridge."

El nodded, absorbing it all so quickly and took off running upstairs like she was being chased.

He definitely was going to get her eggo's later.

Jim against his better judgement, left as well to grab the first aid kit before rushing back in.

Vance was crying, full on bawling his eyes out. "Let him go! Griff! Griff! No, no not, Bruce! Give him back!"

He was grabbing his hair, getting blood in it. He'd gone near silent now, the only sounds his own heart wrenching sobs and shuddered breathing.

Occasionally he'd scream and curse and shout.

"Stay away! Stay away from them motherfucker! Get me instead! I'm the one you want asshole! Leave them alone!"

Jim felt the same temptation as El had, the urge to run over and pull this bleeding, crying hurting child into his arms.

And take away all the pain he was in.

But he knew that wasn't how this worked.

He knew what this was.

It was the kind of thing they say soilders experience. People do to, normal folk who undergo traumatic things.

He hated that it was happening to Vance.

Hated that he couldn't help his nephew sooner.

How long he spent down here trapped in his own hellscape.

But he would be their now.

"Helps on the way kid."

__________________________

"You are 3 for 3 popeye." Chuckled Robin, putting another tally mark for her in the score sheet.

Finney smiled but it didn't reach his eyes. "What's up? You normally love losing at tic tac toe." She could tell something was wrong instantly.

He can't remember a time when she couldn't.

"I dunno... Just, got a bad feeling."

Robin frowned, about to question him deeper before the phone rang.

Finney froze.

Robin reached over, squeezed his shoulder. Silently reassuring him that she could hear it too.

Before shuffling over and picking the phone. "This is Lola's mortuary and pizzeria where yesterday's loss is today's sauce, how may I help you?"

Finney stifled a laugh and she swatted his shoulder with a grin.

A grin which fell not a second later. "El? Hey, hey woah slow down." Robin sent Finney a frantic look and he took the phone from her.

"El, hey its Steve what's up?"

"Steve! Hop told me to call, I don't know what's wrong but Vance is hiding under the bed and I think he made a mess.

But he's crying and he's yelling and I don't know why, oh and his hands bleeding he's hurt and Hop said for you and Robin to come over." Rambled El, sniffling.

Finney's blood ran cold.

Vance. Vance he needed to go to Vance, now.

"We're coming now." He ended the call, Robin didn't need an explanation. She quickly put the close sign up, they locked up and the two got into Finney's car.

"Vance?" She asked, Finney nodded, not taking his eyes off the road.

He drove faster than he'd ever driven before, threw himself out the door not even bothering to lock it and ran into Hopper's house.

He wasn't too late, he wouldn't be. Vance needed him, he would get to him.

El said nothing when they burst in. She simply pointed to the basement and Finney wanted to scream.

He didn't, he jumped down the steps and ran past Hopper. Barely taking in the destroyed room.

And walking over, only stopping when he was several steps away from Vance.

"Vance, Vance it's Finney." Said Finney, in as gentle of a voice as he could muster.

"Finney?"

Vance frowned, clearly having heard him but couldn't see him. "Yeah, yeah it's me. I'm right here." Said Finney, tears in his eyes.

This never got easy.

Vance shuffled, flinching at his injured hand hitting the wooden planks of the bed. He looked up at Finney, meeting his eye.

"Can you see me?"

"I see you... You look different though."

"Yeah, you know how old I am? 20." Vance gasped, shaking his head "No... Your 13. Right?"

There was something about Vance been terrified, not knowing who or where he is.

But the moment he saw Finney he trusted him immediately. Even when none of it made sense to Vance he trusted Finney.

"Not anymore. I'm 20 now, and your 22." Vance went quiet, just looking at him.

Finney let him, he was thinly aware of Robin telling Hop they had it under control. Ushering him and El upstairs and guarding the door.

God he loved her.

"But the Grabber..." Vance frowned because to him he was still in the Grabbers basement.

"Is dead." Said Finney, gentle but firmer than he had been prior. "He's hurting Griff and Bruce." Cried Vance.

Finney let himself move closer, still keeping his distance as much as it hurt.

"Griff's at home, so is Bruce. We got out. We all got out. The Grabber is dead, I killed him."

He said it again.

And again.

And again.

Finney would say it for the rest of his life if it got Vance to believe him.

He lost count but eventually Vance did.

"Finney?"

"Yeah, Vance?"

"... Think I'm stuck." He said, attempting to wiggle out from under the bed.

Finney snorted, tears in his eyes that started to fall.

He was back.

"Can I help you?" Vance looked at him, looked at him with the most trusting eyes a person could ever have.

And nodded.

Once free, Vance slumped into Finney's arms, boneless and exhausted. And quite disoriented.

"Don't let go...." He whispered, resting his head on Finney's shoulder. Finney shook his head, holding him closer.

Wishing he could tuck Vance in his ribcage where he'd be safe from the world and his own mind.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

Vance nodded, silent for a bit, catching his own breathe as it even out.

Inhaling Farah Fawcett hairspray, feeling the stiff Family Video vest over a soft yellow jumper.

Grounding himself.

Before looking up "Bobin, get your arse over and join us."

Robin, also tearful because she and Finney were just connected at this point and she feels what he does, shuffles over.

And pulls them both into a big hug.

Vance sighed and for the first time in what feels like a long time, felt himself relax.

His hand hurt, he wasn't entirely sure why the room was a mess or what he'd done to his hand.

Nor what had happened since leaving the Byers house, it was all fuzzy.

But for now, all that mattered was that Finney and Robin had him.

He was safe.

And that was enough for now.

[weddingstamp]

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[edenmontague]

character name: eden victoria montague birthday: may 16, 1991 age: thirty-three hometown: london, england zodiac ( sun, moon, rising ): taurus, libra, capricorn character label: the resplendent

occupation: unemployed gender: cis-female sexuality: pan education: bachelor’s degree in business communication

stay with the eversleys: five weeks

Eden was born into a world of elegance and cultural sophistication, with her mother, Cressida, a renowned ballerina, as her guiding star. From a young age, she was immersed in a life of travel, art, and the performing arts, as Cressida took her and her uncle Jacob—who was more like a brother due to their close age—across the globe. Despite their unique family dynamic, Eden always referred to Jacob as her cousin, a term of endearment that reflected their close-knit bond.

Her upbringing was anything but conventional. With a passport full of stamps before she was even a teenager, Eden became well-versed in the customs, languages, and cuisines of various cultures. This globetrotting lifestyle instilled in her a sense of freedom and a deep appreciation for the finer things in life. Materialism came naturally to Eden, not out of greed, but as a way to anchor herself in the beauty and luxury she had always known.

Despite her impulsive nature, Eden's intelligence and kind-heartedness always shone through. She was the type of person who could easily engage in deep conversations about art, history, or current events, all while maintaining a carefree demeanor that drew people to her effortlessly.

At 27, Eden's whirlwind life led her to Venice, where she met the love of her life. The romance was passionate and intense, culminating in a fairy-tale wedding that seemed to promise a happily-ever-after. However, life took a painful turn when, three years into their marriage, they struggled with infertility. The stress of their failed attempts to conceive took a toll on their relationship, and Eden's world was shattered when she discovered her husband had been unfaithful.

Devastated, Eden fled Italy, leaving behind the life she had built with him. She returned to England, seeking solace in the familiar comforts of home and the support of her family. Though her heart was broken, Eden’s resilient spirit and the wisdom she had gained from her worldly experiences helped her begin to rebuild her life, one step at a time.

[gatsgraffiti]

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[unhingedhearties]

An Enlightening Interview

It was brought to my attention that an interview was done with the costume designer for When Calls The Heart and some interesting things were discussed.

I'll give time stamps for relevant parts of the interview and paraphrase what was said.

3:19 Season 12 will start off in autumn. This is a problem because it'll be summer when they shoot. They'll try to find a happy medium because they don't want to go to blazers and coats right away.

I bring this up because I'm sure someone will complain when the season starts that the clothes don't match the last episode of season 11. I think it's fair to not force the actors to wear long, heavy clothes in summer, especially the kids.

15:55 Jeanette wore an outfit worn by Brooke Shields in an earlier season. The answer is a little rambling but basically: -It was sitting on a hanger doing nothing. -Vancouver apparently doesn't have good fabric stores or resources. -It was in Jeanette's colors. -You didn't see the skirt details when Brooke Shields wore it/they altered it/they changed the buttons/they put a coat over her -18:31 "I think it's just important because otherwise all that other stuff is just in there and hoarding it so it's much better to find a better purpose"

…I can't argue with that. That's actually a really eco-friendly idea.

It's brought up a lot that the clothes get reused on other characters. At 28:57 she says that some of the clothes are falling apart because they can only be recycled so many times and at 34:48 she says they don't have enough people or budget to build everything from scratch.

Honestly, this sounds like a miserable job. She mentioned up above that the area they work in doesn't have good fabric stores or resources and also that there aren't any good places to buy period children's shoes (7:57), they can't find wool suits (24:49), they're running out of what they can find in stores because there isn't enough merchandise that works (19:54), Covid ruined everything and now there's less selection and inventory and stores are closing down (36:42) and finding stuff in Rosemary's colors is impossible now (37:18).

35:50 If they had to make When Calls the Heart at any other time (I assume she means in the present day) she wouldn't have the inventory to do it. The stores she bought clothes from either don't carry the stuff she needs anymore or shut down.

No wonder they reuse stuff.

So I mentioned all that to give better context for the next few things I want to highlight.

20:24 The hosts mention that "some Hearties" were talking about Lucas's suits being loose and hanging on him. I'm guessing they mean big brains saying stuff like this:

So what was the real answer? He's wearing the same stuff that he wore the season before. "If there's any weight shift I didn't have anything to do with it." "There wasn't any specific thought on my part about his suits being loose fitted… we don't have time to accommodate it."

That also pairs well with this:

Liz has convinced herself that this was supposed to be Elizabeth's wedding dress and they added the crystals to change it. If this interview has taught me anything it's that the clothing team has unlimited money and people to do something like this, so clearly it must be true.

22:43 Lucas's suits are not custom and they are not expensive. A lot of the men's suits come from a website and are fitted to the actors.

25:31 Elizabeth and Anna wore white in the episode with Higgins. Was that a symbolic reference to the suffragettes?

The answer is no. The hosts admit that they're looking too much into stuff like this. That is absolutely correct. I don't have a specific example of this but I've seen many people on both teams read a bunch of symbolism and references into the clothes the characters wear. I think after listening to this interview the Hearties should probably do that a lot less.

Anna's dress was also bought for Erin but it didn't fit. It sounds like they just buy stuff and hope they can use it somewhere.

This part is interesting and will pair well with something I want to post in the future.

47:02 They had a consultant for Mei's wedding gown and when picking the pattern they had to make sure it wasn't going to offend anyone or have a secret meaning.

49:45 Mei's light colored dress she wore for the dinner with Hickam was actually built. They sent pictures to Amanda/Mei and she showed them to her grandmother who said what colors to use. So they had a consultant for the Chinese clothes, plus the Chinese actress was involved and got input from her Chinese grandmother.

Hmm… I feel like I might need to bring this up in the future.

[dawninlatin]

Queen of Peace, chapter 17

A manorian High School AU

Words: 1,9k

AO3 Link

Masterlist

Summary: Manon Blackbeak is flawless, untouchable. From the outside at least. Her grandmother pushes her to achieve greatness, and she doesn’t let anyone get too close in fear of being hurt. How can anyone love her when not even her parents could?

Dorian Havilliard has always felt safe and confident around his friends. He might not have the greatest of families, but with Aelin and Chaol by his side, nothing can go wrong. That is until he tries keeping his greatest secret from them.

What will happen when Dorian and Manon gets to know one another? Can two lost souls find their way back together?

Then it tries to find a home

With people or when I’m alone

Picking it apart

And staring at your phone

-Florence + The Machine, Hunger

Dorian broke into a huge grin as he opened his Christmas present. He’d been saving this one for last, knowing it would be something good.

And he’d been right.

Inside the messily wrapped box was a special edition of his favorite book, one he’d tried to find for years without success. How she’d even gotten this-

He lifted the book, admiring the gorgeous sprayed edges, then picked up the second item. It was a custom library stamp, saying From the library of Dorian Havilliard. Dorian felt almost giddy, wanting to use it on all of his books immediately.

It really was the perfect gift, and the fact that it was from Manon made him all warm inside.

«Show me what you got,» Dorian’s mother urged from her spot next to him on the couch, trying to look over his shoulder. 

On the floor, aunt Philippa was helping Hollin build his new Lego’s.

It had been over a month now, since that faithful night that had begun with Dorian coming out to his parents, and ended with his mother leaving his father, basically starting a new life for her family.

Things weren’t perfect, they’d had plenty of bad days, but they were doing better. His mother had managed to stay sober, as far as Dorian knew, and she still went to her meetings, still saw a therapist on the regular. 

Sometimes, the three of them even saw a family therapist together, and Dorian found that having someone to guide them through all the difficult conversations really helped. It had most definitely helped Hollin, who seemed like an entirely different kid now. He hardly had tantrums anymore, he did way better in school, and overall he seemed much happier.

He also seemed to adore his new aunt, whom he’d not even met before, but who’d stayed with them for three weeks after the fight, and now visited as often as possible.

Thankfully, their father had left them alone. Dorian hoped it stayed that way, that he never had to see the bastard ever again. 

Looking around, Dorian took in the small, but cozy living room he was sitting in. 

They’d moved here about a month ago, their old house being too big, too empty, too full of bad memories, and things were finally settling. Already, this felt more like a home than their old house ever had.

«Is that from Dorian’s secret girlfriend?» Philippa asked just as Dorian handed his nosy mother the book and library stamp. 

The nosiness didn’t bother him, though, not in the slightest, because it meant she cared.

«She’s not secret, and she’s also not my girlfriend,» Dorian pointed out, but his aunt just waggled her eyebrows and then joined them on the couch to take a closer look at the gift.

His mom gave him a playful look. «If she’s not secret, why does she only have time to visit when you’re home alone?»

Dorian simply shrugged, feigning innocence.

«Give it a few years, Georgie, and you’ll be planning their wedding.»

«Okay-» Dorian said, plucking his things from the hands of his gushing mother and aunt. «That’s my cue to leave.»

He quickly stood up, trying to hide the fact that he was very much blushing, and announced, «I’m going to my room, alone, so I can call my not-secret not-girlfriend.»

Then he left, hurrying as he heard his aunt quip, «Did you see how red he got?»

Dorian let out a sigh of relief as he closed the door behind him, pulling his hand through his hair. 

After carefully placing his gift on his desk, he flung himself down on the bed and pulled out his phone, dialing Manon’s number from memory (which was an absolutely normal thing to remember about a person that absolutely wasn’t one’s girlfriend).

She picked up almost immediately, and Dorian let himself imagine that maybe she’d been waiting for him to call.

«Merry Christmas,» Manon greeted, her voice so bright.

Grinning, Dorian returned the words, then asked, «What did you think of your present?»

«It’s beatiful,» Manon breathed on the other end of the line. «Thank you.»

He ‘d gotten her a necklace. It was simple, really, just a silver chain with a shining star in the middle, two smaller ones on each side, but Dorian knew he had to get it as soon as he saw it. 

«I’m actually wearing it right now,» Manon added.

«The shirt? Sexy.»

Because as Dorian stood there with the necklace, he’d also thought that while it was perfect, it was a little too cliché, too couple-y, se he’d needed to get something else as well, something less serious.

It had taken a few days of searching, but he’d found it eventually: A hot pink shirt that said the words «You’re looking at a crazy cat lady». The letters were black, in fucking comic sans, and the message was underlined by rainbow-colored paw prints. It was honestly the ugliest shirt Dorian had ever seen, but he knew Manon would love it.

She chuckled, before saying, «The necklace, dumbass. I’m saving the t-shirt for prom.»

They’d seen each other just two days ago, but it had been long enough for Dorian to miss talking to her, miss their playful banter.

Cold, unapproachable, mean, bitchy. They were all words he’d heard to describe Manon, but as he’d gotten to know her, he knew she was none of those things. She might let the world believe otherwise, but Manon was kind, caring, clever, and downright hilarious.

«I’d expect nothing less. Thank you very much for the book and library stamp, by the way. You couldn’t have given me a better gift.» Dorian glanced over at said gift, smiling at how well she knew him.

«Maybe Aelin won’t steal all your books now, if she’s constantly reminded of who they actually belong to. And if it looked like your gift was wrapped by a child who loves tape too much, it was all Abraxos’ fault! He just took over, insisting he did it!»

Dorian laughed, picturing a very frustrated Manon trying to wrap a Christmas present. «Don’t bring Abraxos into this, he probably wraps his gifts beautifully!»

They kept going back and forth like this, Dorian’s facial muscles beginning to strain from all the smiling he was doing.

«What are you doing right now?» Dorian asked after Manon had given a detailed description of how she’d tried, and epically failed, to make gingerbread cookies last night.

«I’m chilling in my PJs, watching the greatest Christmas movie of all time.» 

«Let me guess…The Grinch?»

«Shut up, he’s my literal soulmate!» Manon claimed, sounding as if she tried not to laugh. 

«You probably love something annoying like Elf or Home Alone.» Dorian could hear the eye-roll.

«And what if I do?» he teased, even if those two were among his favorites.

Manon’s reply came quickly. «Then I’m afraid I can’t be seen in public with you anymore.»

Just as Dorian was about to make a retort, his mom knocked on the door, asking if he wanted to play Mario Kart with them. As much as he wanted to keep speaking with Manon, he had a title as reigning champion to defend, so they made their goodbyes, promising to talk again the following day.

Then Dorian went to join his family, ignoring how he’d felt the urge to end that phone call with three very significant words.

-

After ending the phone call with Dorian, Manon returned to her movie, snuggled up with Abraxos on her bed. 

She’d felt so light, mere moments ago, laughing and bickering, but as soon as she’d hung up, a heaviness had settled over her again.

To her, Christmas had never been the warm, joyful holiday everyone else believed it to be, but this year was particularly depressing.

All morning, she’d tried not to cry as she thought about how different it would be if Asterin was still here. They would have opened their few presents together, Asterin waking her up at some ungodly hour, then they would have watched movies in one of their beds, gorging themselves on candy, before they went ice skating, and returned to a not-horrible dinner with their grandmother.

It physically hurt, to be doing it all alone this year. 

Especially when Manon knew it was all her fault.

She was the one who’d pushed Asterin away, who’d answered with insult after insult when all Asterin had done was care about her.

Manon hoped she was okay, hoped she was happy with her new family.

Her grandmother was still making dinner later today, but Manon wasn’t sure she could sit there and pretend something vital wasn’t missing. It was becoming more and more clear how Asterin had been the one bringing some light to this house.

In addition, Manon was beginning to run out of plausible lies as to why she was spending more time out, and less time in her room studying. It was hard to keep someone hidden, when they had become such a huge part of her life.

At least she still had Dorian, Manon thought, touching a hand to her new necklace.

She’d been so relieved when he’d called her after he’d gone home that morning, telling her all about how his mother had finally stood up against his father, how she’d promised things would change. His voice had been full of disbelief back then, but his mother had kept her promises so far, and it showed, because Dorian seemed happier and happier by every day.

As he’d retold their conversation, though, Manon couldn’t help but draw parallels to her own situation, a heavy feeling settling deep within her.

She wished she had the strength to stand up for the ones she cared about like that. To do something, say something. Maybe then-

But you’ll never manage to do that, stupid girl! You’re nothing more than a pathetic coward, exactly like your mother-

That fucking voice… Manon would give anything for it to shut up. 

She turned up the volume of the movie in a feeble attempt to drown it out, but it only reminded her of how she didn’t have Asterin beside her, making funny comments the entire time.

Manon contemplated calling Dorian again, but he was spending time with his family, and she knew how much he valued that time, so she quickly let go of that thought, instead choosing to let herself mope some more.

«Christmas is overrated, anyway,» she said to a snoring Abraxos, who continued to ignore her.

Sighing, Manon mentally prepared herself to go and get more snacks, but then her phone started buzzing somewhere underneath all her blankets. 

Shen frantically searched for it, thinking it was Dorian calling, but her face fell as she saw that it was an unknown number.

Normally, Manon would have just ignored it, letting it go to voicemail, but this time, it was as if a voice urged her to pick up, just this once, pick up!

So she did, trying to remain calm as she said, «This is Manon speaking.»

The person on the other end drew a deep breath, before replying in a shaking voice, «Hey, Manon. This is your father.»

A/N: We have finally reached the chapter, that when plotting it out, I thought "I'll have plenty of time to have this out around Christmas...in 2020"

A win is a win though!

This one's more of a filler, and therefore a little short, but I hope you appreciated the ending...*cue evil laughter*

Taglist: @fireheartfaery @bookishwitchling @gwynethhberdara @darklingswhxore @onfma @ireallyshouldsleeprn @sayosdreams @rowaelinismyotp @rainbowcheetah512 @mirubyjane @zoyalovesbooks​ @wishfulimaginings​

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Joe Heller

* * * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 30, 2023

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 30, 2023

Today the Supreme Court followed up on yesterday’s decision gutting affirmative action with three decisions that will continue to push the United States back to the era before the New Deal.

In 303 Creative LLC v. Elenis the court said that the First Amendment protects website designer Lorie Smith from having to use words she doesn’t believe in support of gay marriage. To get there, the court focused on the marriage website designer’s contention that while she is willing to work with LGBTQ customers, she doesn’t want to use her own words on a personalized website to celebrate gay marriages. Because of that unwillingness, she said, she wants to post on her website that she will not make websites for same-sex weddings. She says she is afraid that in doing so, she will run afoul of Colorado’s anti-discrimination laws, which prevent public businesses from discriminating against certain groups of people. 

This whole scenario of being is prospective, by the way: her online business did not exist and no one had complained about it. Smith claims she wants to start the business because “God is calling her ‘to explain His true story about marriage.’” She alleges that in 2016, a gay man approached her to make a website for his upcoming wedding, but yesterday, Melissa Gira Grant of The New Republic reported that, while the man allegedly behind the email does exist, he is an established designer himself (so why would he hire someone who was not?), is not gay, and married his wife 15 years ago. He says he never wrote to Smith, and the stamp on court filings shows she received it the day after she filed the suit.

Despite this history, by a 6–3 vote, the court said that Smith was being hurt by the state law and thus had standing to sue. It decided that requiring the designer to use her own words to support gay marriage violated the First Amendment’s guarantee of free speech. 

Taken together with yesterday’s decision ruling that universities cannot consider race as a category in student admissions, the Supreme Court has highlighted a central contradiction in its interpretation of government power: if the Fourteenth Amendment limits the federal government to making sure that there is no discrimination in the United States on the basis of race—the so-called “colorblind” Constitution—as the right-wing justices argued yesterday, it is up to the states to make sure that state laws don’t discriminate against minorities. But that requires either protecting voting rights or accepting minority rule.

This problem has been with us since before the Civil War, when lawmakers in the southern states defended their enslavement of their Black (and Indigenous) neighbors by arguing that true democracy was up to the voters and that those voters had chosen to support enslavement. After the Civil War, most lawmakers didn’t worry too much about states reimposing discriminatory laws because they included Black men as voters first in 1867 with the Military Reconstruction Act and then in 1870 with the Fifteenth Amendment to the Constitution, and they believed such political power would enable Black men to shape the laws under which they lived. 

But in 1875 the Supreme Court ruled in Minor v. Happersett that it was legal to cut citizens out of the vote so long as the criteria were not about race. States excluded women, who brought the case, and southern states promptly excluded Black men through literacy clauses, poll taxes, and so on. Northern states mirrored southern laws with their own, designed to keep immigrants from exercising a voice in state governments. At the same time, southern states protected white men from the effects of these exclusionary laws with so-called grandfather clauses, which said a man could vote so long as his grandfather had been eligible.

It turned out that limiting the Fourteenth Amendment to questions of race and letting states choose their voters cemented the power of a minority. The abandonment of federal protection for voting enabled white southerners to abandon democracy and set up a one-party state that kept Black and Brown Americans as well as white women subservient to white men. As in all one-party states, there was little oversight of corruption and no guarantee that laws would be enforced, leaving minorities and women at the mercy of a legal system that often looked the other way when white criminals committed rape and murder. 

Many Americans tut-tutted about lynching and the cordons around Black life, but industrialists insisted on keeping the federal government small because they wanted to make sure it could not regulate their businesses or tax them. They liked keeping power at the state level; state governments were far easier to dominate. Southerners understood that overlap: when a group of southern lawmakers in 1890 wrote a defense of the South’s refusal to let Black men vote, they “respectfully dedicated” the book to “the business men of the North.” 

In the 1930s the Democrats under President Franklin Delano Roosevelt undermined this coalition by using the federal government to regulate business and provide a social safety net. In the 1940s and 1950s, as racial and gender atrocities began to highlight in popular media just how discriminatory state laws really were, the Supreme Court went further, recognizing that the Fourteenth Amendment’s declaration that states could not deprive any person of the equal protection of the laws meant that the federal government must protect the rights of minorities when states would not. Those rules created modern America.

This is what the radical right seeks to overturn. Yesterday the Supreme Court said that the Fourteenth Amendment could not address racial disparities, but today, like lawmakers in the 1870s, it signaled that it would not protect voting in the states either. It rejected a petition for a review of Mississippi’s strict provision for taking the vote away from felons. That law illustrates just how fully we’re reliving our history: it dates from the 1890 Mississippi constitution that cemented power in white hands. Black Mississippians are currently 2.7 times more likely than white Mississippians to lose the right to vote under the law. 

The court went even further today than allowing states to choose their voters. It said that even if state voters do call for minority protections, as Colorado’s anti-discrimination laws do, states cannot protect minorities in the face of someone’s religious beliefs. In her dissent, Justice Sonia Sotomayor wrote that for “the first time in its history,” the court has granted “a business open to the public a constitutional right to refuse to serve members of a protected class.” 

It is worth noting that segregation was defended as a deeply held religious belief. 

Today, using a case concerning school loans, the Supreme Court also took aim at the power of the federal government to regulate business. In Biden v. Nebraska the court declared by a vote of 6 to 3 that President Biden’s loan forgiveness program, which offered to forgive up to $20,000 of federally held student debt, was unconstitutional. The right-wing majority of the court argued that Congress had not intended to give that much power to the executive branch, although the forgiveness plan was based on law that gave the secretary of education the power to “waive or modify any statutory or regulatory provision applicable to the student financial assistance programs…as the Secretary deems necessary in connection with a…national emergency…to ensure” that “recipients of student financial assistance…are not placed in a worse position financially in relation to that financial assistance because of [the national emergency]”.

The right-wing majority based its decision on the so-called major questions doctrine, invented to claw back regulatory power from the federal government. By saying that Congress cannot delegate significant decisions to federal agencies, which are in the executive branch, the court takes on itself the power to decide what a “significant” decision is. The court established this new doctrine in the West Virginia v. Environmental Protection Agency case, stripping the EPA of its ability to regulate certain kinds of air pollution.

“Let’s not beat around the bush,” constitutional analyst Ian Millhiser wrote today in Vox, today’s decision in Biden v. Nebraska “is complete and utter nonsense. It rewrites a federal law which explicitly authorizes the loan forgiveness program, and it relies on a fake legal doctrine known as ‘major questions’ which has no basis in any law or any provision of the Constitution.”

Today’s Supreme Court, packed as it has been by right-wing money behind the Federalist Society and that society’s leader, Leonard Leo, is taking upon itself power over the federal government and the state governments to recreate the world that existed before the New Deal.

Education Secretary Miguel Cardona called out the lurch toward turning the government over to the wealthy, supported as it is by religious footsoldiers like Lorie Smith: “Today, the court substituted itself for Congress,” Cardona told reporters. “It’s outrageous to me that Republicans in Congress and state offices fought so hard against a program that would have helped millions of their own constituents. They had no problem handing trillion-dollar tax cuts to big corporations and the super wealthy.” 

Cardona made his point personal: “And many had no problems accepting millions of dollars in forgiven pandemic loans, like Senator Markwayne Mullin from Oklahoma had more than $1.4 million in pandemic loans forgiven. He represents 489,000 eligible borrowers that were turned down today. Representative Brett Guthrie from Kentucky had more than $4.4 million forgiven. He represents more than 90,000 eligible borrowers who were turned down today. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene from Georgia had more than $180,000 forgiven. She represents more than 91,800 eligible borrowers who were turned down today.” 

In the majority opinion of Biden v. Nebraska, Chief Justice John Roberts lamented that those who dislike the court’s decisions have accused the court of “going beyond the proper role of the judiciary.” He defended the court’s decision and urged those who disagreed with it not to disparage the court because “such misperception would be harmful to this institution and our country.” But what is at stake is not simply these individual decisions, whether or not you agree with them; at stake is the way our democracy operates.

Norman Ornstein of the American Enterprise Institute didn’t offer much hope for Roberts’s plea. “It is not just the rulings the Roberts Court is making,” he tweeted. “They created out of [w]hole cloth a bogus, major questions doctrine. They made a mockery of standing. They rewrite laws to fit their radical ideological preferences. They have unilaterally blown up the legitimacy of the Court.”

In a shot across the bow of this radical court, in her dissent to Biden v. Nebraska, Justice Elena Kagan wrote that “the Court, by deciding this case, exercises authority it does not have. It violates the Constitution.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[liskantope]

On the whole SCOTUS ruling, I think it depends if you considered providing a certain good as endorsement of a particular message or just providing a service that is seen a apolitical by a majority of the population (i.e., baking a cake/creating a website for a gay couple).

Hmm I started to write a request for elaboration (preferably in a reblog) since I was having trouble interpreting your point, but now what I think you're suggesting is that for a certain minority of wedding website designers, having to do a website for a same-sex marriage feels tantamount to affirming a message they don't believe in, while to much of the rest of society it feels apolitical.

Which is probably true to a large extent, although it initially runs counter to my intuition since by now I'm so used to the treatment of everything featuring gay couples as political by much of progressive culture along with a more general Everything Is Political mentality. Of course I'd like to see a day where nobody views the existence of a professionally-made website for a same-sex wedding as political, but it often feels like we'll never get there.

Anyway, here's a thought experiment, which I was planning to write in a separate post anyway but might as well put into this answer.

Suppose a couple (doesn't matter if it's same- or opposite-sex, but let's say both people are white) walks into a small wedding website company, and it turns out that this couple is going to get married at the site of an old plantation in the South. The people who run the company are committed to adhering to anti-racist values and see plantation weddings as racist. (I've seen social media posts criticizing such wedding locations as offensive/racist and am inclined to agree, at least mildly.) So they want to refuse these customers.

Now should they be granted the legal right to refuse to create something that goes against their particular anti-racism beliefs? I would say yes. (And of course one upshot of this is that if they're in a not-very-progressive area where plantation weddings are popular and a lot of people think the company is being needlessly fussy/discriminatory, they'll lose a lot of business for choosing to stick to their values, and that's the way it goes.)

This example also fits your suggestion of certain companies feeling like it (in this case, making a website for a plantation wedding) is a political statement while it may not occur to most people that it's a political statement, although I don't know that this leads to any point in particular.

Anyway, I think if I were to ask, "What's the substantial difference between that and the Supreme Court case?", the answer I'd get from most people would be that the Supreme Court case does involve a certain marginalized identity category, and there should be protections for people with marginalized identities. Preference For Getting Married At An Old Southern Plantation, after all, isn't exactly an identity. And okay, I can see it like this when I squint at it one way, but it also seems to me like the very concept of identities is getting murkier nowadays, in particular the distinction between preferences and innate characteristics among other things, and wouldn't it be cleaner from a legal perspective to frame things from the point of view of creative expression?

(It's late, I'm sleep-deprived, and I'm not sure I'm being morally or intellectually reasonable in that last paragraph particularly, so I'm stamping it with a low level of confidence.)