#all. elias taylor

[jeffbvckley]

[oifaaa]

For the ask game! Dick Grayson

First impression - my first impression of Dick was from the yjtv so brat

Impression now - I need him to suffer (affectionate)

Favourite moment - in dc vs vampires when he complains about just wanting to have one sibling who would be beside him literally moments after he killed Tim

Idea for a story - have him disappear from all comics for about a year or two

Unpopular opinion - universal constant is so fucking stupid but I also hate the standard of good Dick is held to overall let him live up to his name again

Favourite relationship - Dick and Damians sibling relationship (although I'm also very partial to Roy and dick)

[stargiirl27]

[qss-i-9]

just fully played tgogm. i still want to marry elias just like i thought i would

{spoilers in tags}

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

WELCOME TO THE UNDERWORLD

"Oh, this here ain't Taylor, Taylor been shot. This man here is Chris, he been resurrected."

-King

☆ ★ ✮ ★ ☆

Welcome to the underworld: part 2

[tonyspep]

walkin' with his head down, i'm the one he's walking to

A/N: this is for the summer fic exchange!!! it started out as something completely different, but here we are. This is for the amazing @laurenairay I really hope you like it and that your summer is going well. This is my first time writing for Quinn Hughes so here's to trying something different. Quinn is so cute, so I hope I did him justice. This was inspired by “Call It What You Want” by Taylor Swift, which is so hurt/comfort to me. So here we are with Quinn being comforted after the game seven loss to the Oilers this year. thank you to @wyattjohnston for hosting this amazing exchange!!

Walkin' with his head down, i'm the one he's walkin' to

summary: the series didn't end the way you or quinn was hoping, but you weren't going to let him hang his head for too long

rating: t

i'm laughin' with my lover, makin' forts under covers

trust him like a brother, yeah, you know I did one thing right

starry eyes sparkin' up my darkest nights

“call it what you want” - by taylor swift

The final seconds ticked away and it was obvious this game wasn't going to end the way you or Quinn wanted it to. He and the rest of the Canucks gave the series everything they had, but McDavid and Draisaitl and company proved to be too much in the end. You felt Brock's girlfriend Bella wrap her arms around your middle, a soft sob escaping her as she rested her head against your back. It was hard for you not to cry, too. The boys had worked so hard to get to this point, they had fought all the way back to take the series lead, only to falter in the most important game and now the off season would be starting.

“I thought they had it,” Bella murmured and you could only nod. You really believed this year was going to be their year. They won the Pacific Divison. They beat the Preadators 4-2 and had home ice advantage in this series, which you knew would be tough, but still..

A tear couldn't help but trickle down your cheek. They had all the pieces to go far, maybe even all the way, and instead they would be packing up their lockers, doing exit interviews and the summer would be starting earlier than any of you anticipated.

“Me, too, Bells,” You agreed with the blonde who had become your best friend since you started dating Quinn just a little over a year ago. The two of you hugged each other tight, watching as the fans made their way out of the arena. You separated from each other after giving each other a kiss on the cheek and went down the steps to the locker room.

Everything seemed to be happening in slow motion as you waited for Quinn to appear. Out came Elias, skull cap pulled over his buzzed blonde hair, flashing you just a brief smile before his handsome face transformed into more of a grimace. JT was not standing tall, but hunched until he was embraced by his family. Brock gave you the best grin he could muster, nothing like his usual sparkling grin that you had come to know almost as well as Quinn's soft smile.

Then came a familiar head of soft brown hair, longer than it was when you first met Quinn in the hallway of your shared apartment building in downtown Vancouver. His head was down, his shoulders slumped, like they were holding the weight of the world. Your heart couldn't help but break. You knew how hard Quinn had worked to get to this point, how he took on the burden of being Captain and how seriously he took the C on his chest. He didn't want the Cup for himself, he wanted it for Brock, for Elias, JT, Thatcher, for Coach Rick Tocchect. He was so selfless and put the team first above anything and everything else.

All you wanted to do was take his pain away, to put the bashfully sweet smile you knew so well back on his face.

“Hey, you,” Quinn gave a weak laugh and there was a hint of the smile you fell in love with on his lips, making your heart lift slightly. “You can really smile you know,” You tease, reaching for Quinn's hand. “I know this didn't go the way we wanted to, but if you don't smile I'll think you're not happy to see me,” You joke and Quinn does laugh, for real this time. “Y/N,” Quinn's voice is tender as he cups your cheek in his other hand. “I'm always happy to see you. If you weren't here right now, I'd be going home to a dark apartment to just sit on my couch and think about all the things I could have done better. Instead, I'm going home with you, which makes this easier than it would be otherwise.”

You flush from Quinn's words. You want this to be easier for him, to ease some of the weight he carries and you think you know just how to do it.

Quinn can see the wheels turning in your head, see the spark that's suddenly taken over your deep eyes. He arches a brow and you kiss his cheek, teasing, “Just wait. I know just how to make this not seem so bad, but you tell me if it's too much, okay? I just want to be here for you, however you want me to be, Quinny,”

His cheeks turn an adorable shade of pink, showing through the playoff beard he's grown. Your heart skips a beat; even a bit run down after a hard fought series, Quinn is still the cutest boy you've ever known. With his big sad puppy eyes, his soft mop of dark hair that curls over his ears, his pink lips and warmly handsome face.

“Relax,” You say as you unlock your shared apartment's front door. “Just sit on the couch, don't do anything except take off your shoes, take a shower if you want, change into something comfy but leave everything else to me, okay?”

Quinn chuckles to himself and gives a joking salute, “Yes ma'am, but there is one other thing I want to do before you do whatever it is you're going to do.”

You blink curiously as you tilt your head, wondering what this one thing could be and then Quinn is touching your cheek, so gently as he presses his lips against yours. This kiss is the sweetest, softest kiss you've ever experienced. You continue kissing each other softly, neither of you wanting to pull away as your fingers sink into Quinn's wonderfully soft, thick dark hair. He nips on your bottom lip, gently, making you moan his name as his other hand wraps around your waist, anchoring you to strong frame.

You break apart out of necessity and Quinn says, “Now I'll go relax and leave you to your surprise,” and you're so tempted to follow him, heat thrumming through your veins, want clouding your thoughts as your eyes follow Quinn until he disappears down the hall.

Somehow you resist the urge, remembering that this night is about Quinn, that even though the game ended in disappointing fashion, you weren't going to let the night end that way.

Flipping through your contacts, you find the one you were looking for and you can only hope you have all the ingredients for the recipe you're planning. Talking to Ellen Hughes feels so much like talking to your own Mom. Her warmth radiates from the other side of the phone as you facetime and you feel relieved that you do have all the ingredients for her famous Kugle, which is Quinn's favorite food.

You're not the best cook but Kugle is easier than you expected. You laugh with Ellen as she goes over the recipe step by step with you and after the casserole goes into the oven, you see Quinn standing in the doorway of the kitchen, looking adorably cozy in a t-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“Is that my Mom?” He asks, his voice so childlike his big brown eyes lit up with hopefulness and Ellen answers for you saying, “Hi, Sweetie. Y/N just called me. I'm so sorry...” and you leave the kitchen, letting mother and son have this time together, knowing Quinn needs the comfort of his Mom now more than ever.

“You made Kugle,” Quinn's voice is full of wonder as you reappear in the kitchen after changing into something comfortable yourself. “Is that why you called my Mom? So you would know how to make it? I could have helped,” He huffed a little, a pout forming on his beautiful lips, which made you laugh. “I'm the only one of us that knows how to make it. Mom shared her secrets with me,” He's proud, his chest puffing a little and how did you get such a sweet guy to call her your own?

“If you made it that would defeat the purpose of you relaxing,” You shake your head as you and Quinn walk toward each other and share another kiss unable to resist each other.

While the Kugle continues baking, you reveal part two of your of your surprise. After changing into your comfiest outfit – a shirt that used to be Quinn's and a pair of well worn shorts – you set up a fort in the living room with all the blankets and pillows in the apartment. “A fort?” Quinn's eyes are bright like they should always be and you smile just as bright. “A fort,” You confirm. “Figured after tonight you could use something fun like a fort and something comforting like your Mom's Kugle,”

Quinn wraps his arms around you from behind, his chin resting on your shoulder. “I like the way you think,” He kisses your cheek and you blush.

Getting under the blankets, you fire up Disney Plus and land on Toy Story. You know Quinn as well as you know yourself after having been together for nearly two years now and you know how much he loves this movie. Just like if the roles were reversed, Quinn would know to put on Pretty Woman or Tangled.

The familiar credits start just as the oven dings and before Quinn can get up, you push his shoulder gently saying, “I don't think so, you stay right here,” and he knows better to argue with you, so he stays put, laughing as the toys in Andy's room start to move around, letting the audience in that they're alive.

“You're a Toy!” Quinn shouts along with Woody after the new spaceman toy “lands” in Andy's room and you laugh, getting in a few Bo Peep lines and Slinky moments as Quinn can't help but get in the Woody lines before they happen. It's no surprise the cowboy is your boyfriend's favorite and you can't help but remember your first Halloween together this year when you dressed as Woody and Bo Peep to the Canucks party.

You enjoy the Kugle even stealing some of Quinn's who says, “Hey,” and shields his plate from you.

You're snuggled up together as the last credits play, Quinn humming along with “You've Got A Friend In Me.” He kisses you on the forehead and sings in your ear, “Some other folks might be a little bit smarter than I am, bigger and stronger too, maybe but none of them will ever love you the way I do, it's me and you,”

You giggle sweetly as you finish the song with the familiar refrain, beaming up at Quinn, “Boy and as the years go by our friendship will never die. You're gonna see it's our destiny. You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me. You've got a friend in me,”

You kiss each other softly, your tongues meeting as your hands move over each other's bodies. Your foreheads come to rest against each other's, your breath coming in soft pants as you look lovingly at each other, Quinn's big hand on your back, his fingers moving over your spine as you sigh, “I love you so much, Quinn,”

His cheeks flush – even though you've been saying I love you for months, it still makes him blush, like he can't believe you love him, which is insane, how can he love you – and your heart flutters like always whenever you're under the stare of his warm brown eyes. “I love you, too. This was amazing; just what I needed after tonight,” He says softly, his voice so tender and honest.

In your fort it's like nothing can touch you here, like, what happened tonight – the devastating loss – didn't happen. You hope you've given Quinn just a little relief, that his heart doesn't feel as heavy as it did when he watched the last seconds tick away or when he was in the handshake line or addressing the team in the locker room after, and the soft smile on his face as he holds you close tells you, you may have done all of that.

The next morning, you wake up in Quinn's arms, the safest place in the world and you smile at how serene he looks sleeping. The worry he carries with him is gone, the lines in his face smoothed away while his long, thick lashes resting on his cheeks. You see the smile creep across Quinn's lips telling you he's awake and his voice, thick with sleep, teases you, “Take a picture it'll last longer,”.

Quinn's humor is sneaky and you poke him in the ribs. “Like you haven't been staring at me too,”

Quinn's eyes open as he stretches and he says, “Can you blame me? I've never seen anyone as beautiful as you,”

“Smooth,” You remark and Quinn laughs. “It's not often, I am,” He admits and after a lazy kiss you find yourself sitting on the stools of your kitchen's island as Quinn makes breakfast.

Last night may not have ended the way both of you wanted, but today was a new day and there would be a new season on the horizon and you would make sure Quinn's days leading up to training camp and then opening night would be the brightest. You wouldn't let him get down on himself or believe he could have done more. You were going to make him believe in himself and believe in the team he had help build up to be one of the best, and that started today.

[cheesy-cryptid]

“Together in unholy matrimony 🥀🥀🥀”

I wanted to incorporate more lore into this one by adding in the other members of the Gallagher family (The one in the middle is Elias’s grandmother )

And now that i finished 3 artworks all about Elias, should i make another one thats more Taylor-centric?

[viamia]

Sooo I haven't been getting requests lately, so I'm just gonna make some hcs on my own time until request come in. So here's one

The SDJ boys (and Gallgher mansion + Dachabo) and how they sleep with you(plus some hcs).

Tw:Mostly fluff and wholesome, a couple of swears(sorta on that one) and implied sexual themes. if you are uncomfortable with any of these, leave now.

Jack: He would 101% just engulf you in his arm, man is a giant teddybear, and you can't tell me otherwise. If you ever fell asleep from exhaustion from work when you got back home, he'd definitely carry you to bed and cuddle up to you. And if you allow him to, he'll also help you shower and clean yourself up :>

Ian: Now this boy, he would definitely cling on to you while he sleeps. I also headcanon him as either a very light sleeper or the kind of person who can sleep through a fire alarm or something like that. He'd definitely sleep talk. I can just imagine him taking a nap, then mumbling the most random things sometimes while he cuddles you. I feel like he'd also be a little spoon like, 90% of the time. He may be a cheater, but I fuking luv him-

Nick: He'd definitely sleep with you with his pomeranians Pico and Cheese. I feel like he'd give Lil love nibbles while he sleeps. (mf is a sleep biter I just know it) Considering he's a adult movie actor, I feel like he'd be the big spoon.

Shaun:Big spoon little spoon, man goes both ways. He just wants to hug and love up on you. He's all cuddled up to you on the couch, bed, anywhere that's comfy. (I just see him as a really affectionate guy tbh) He'd definitely pet moonpie chill with yall on the couch and bed, Lil kitty deserves loving too :>. He snores. But not like giant level snoring, more like the little Snortsbhere and there, sometimes it's a bit hard to sleep while he snores cause it slowly increases in volume over time.

Bo:This motherfuker said fuk sleep, I'm fuking them. Jk jk, but seriously, he'd bite you randomly while you either slept or cuddled. This dog is hard to deal with sometimes. Compared to his normal mode when you first see him, his feed me mode, of course, is much bigger and more cushiony cause of his height and size. He'd be hella warm too, keeping you nice and toasty on cold nights, but in hot summer months, he's in his normal mode cause it doesn't give off much heat.

Taylor:My baby boi I luv him so much. Anyways, knowing Taylor, I feel he'd be clingy like Ian, but on a lower degree. I have a couple headcanons for him, such as him snoring sometimes, biting randomly while he sleeps, sleep talking and so forth. For the the biting, mf-er wrote lewd fanfic with Mc and him in the game. I believe if he starts to about think said fanfic or...something else about you, mf finna get hard. But overall, he'd just be cuddling and giving Lil kisses throughout the night.

Elias:Can ghosts even sleep??? So for Elias, I'm not sure what I can say, considering he's a God darn ghost. But if he can, he'd be a Hella quiet sleeper (well he is dead so-) sometimes when he sleeps with you, he'll accidentally phase through the bed and through the floor or just, into another room. If you're able to keep a grip on him somehow, USE HIS CHEST AS a PILLOW PLS. His chest would be so damn comfy, I swear. Plus, he'd be really clingy cause the poor guy just wants to be loved :(. He'd feel so damn cold since he's dead, and sometimes the blood will drip onto your pillows.

I hope yall like these hcs. And remember, feel free to request me anytime :)

[forsworned]

I NEED more Elias Walker content before I die😫😫💀

God Knows I Tried ft. Elias Walker

Synopsis: Your daddy issues are raging and your long-time 'victim' has been none other than your superior and captain, Elias Walker. After a failed attempt to capture and kill Rorke, you go to "comfort" him, but he seems to have other plans for you.

Author's Note: AND GUESS WHAT I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU, I'M GLAD WE'RE REVIVING GHOSTS IN THE FORM OF DROOLING OVER DILFS BC LORD KNOWS I NEED SOME MORE MCDADDY CLUB LOVIN

Tags: NSFW, Daddy Issues, Age Gap, Power Dynamics, Reader has long hair???

Elias ruffles his fingers through his silver hair after he removes his distressed and worn mask, setting it down on his desk as he sharply inhales. He hadn't gotten to Rorke on time and that pissed him off, and rightfully so. The bastard had been getting away every damn time. His body is tense and he feels as though his anger is brimming from within, bubbling to the surface and he yearns to do something about it.

So when you come rapping on his door, ripping him away from his inner turmoil, and he hears the pleasant sound of your voice through the small crack asking, "Can I come in?" He is more than willing to oblige.

His body completely faces you now, beaconing you over, and taking in your figure in your all-black tactical uniform. It fits you like a second skin, but his intense gaze shifts to your smooth visage. The moonlight catches in your teeth when you greet him. "Can I speak to you for a moment, Sir?"

He raises a brow at you. "Somethin' on your mind, Sergeant?"

Truthfully, you had no idea why you came in. You just found yourself walking back to his office rather than your bunk. After today's failure, you want nothing more than to comfort him. You slowly step forward, just a few feet away from him. "Was just checkin' on you...?"

God, you were so stupid. Checking in? Come on...

A flash of amusement etches into his features, he tilts his head as he studies your expression. "Checkin' in?" He leans his palms against his wooden desk.

"Yeah, I mean--I know this is something very close to you..."

Oh. My. God. Would you shut the everliving fuck up!?

He sighs and turns to the night sky. The moon is full, and its luminance brings a sense of calm to him. He chuckles at your obvious statement, but he doesn't chide you about it. Something about you makes the hardass in him a little soft. "Suppose so."

You swallow and fiddle with the leather on your gloves, waiting to think of something, anything else to add to the conversation, but your mind is coming up blank.

"Tell me, Sergeant--why did you really come into my office?"

Your heart drops to your ass, and your stomach does the thing. Not the hot-and-sexy-thing, but the oh-shit-I-just-got caught thing.

Elias is a sharp man; follows his intuition, checks every corner he treks, and was raised by plain-spoken folk. He can see through most people and unfortunately, you're most people. You wear your heart on your sleeve, your gaze lingers longer than usual and although it may not be obvious to others, you imitate most of his behaviorisms.

Where you used to take your coffee sweet and milky, you now take black. The way you now drink sparkling water over soda. Your go-to music is The Eagles and Creed over Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift (though you still did listen to them, it was seldom). Even your eating habits have changed drastically from avid fast food eater to health nut, although that seems more like a get in shape sorta ordeal due to your fast-paced, rigorous work environment. Either way, you have definitely been picking up on a lot of things that he actively does.

You avert your gaze to your fatigued boots. "I don't know."

"Step forward, soldier." He commands, and you oblige. Not because he commanded it, but because you want to be nearer to him. To take in the scent of gunpowder and the leftover aroma of his aftershave.

You're a foot away from him now, hands tucked behind your back, eyes forward. His dark eyes size you up, and you feel the sweat forming on the nape of your neck. 

"Eyes up." His fingers tap under your chin and your lip quivers a bit when you meet his gaze. "You gonna tell me what's really on your mind?"

He taps on your chin once more. "And don't lie to me."

You swallow thickly. "It's not...appropriate."

He clicks his tongue and a half smile appears on his lips. "That right?"

You nod. "Yes, sir."

"I want to hear it."

But he sees the trepidation that overcomes your features. It’s been so painfully obvious to him. Your little crush. It was endearing, cute, mere puppy love, but he would be lying to himself if he hadn’t thought of molding your walls with his girthy cock. He usually tiptoes around it, but the mission from earlier is bringing on an itch that he can’t quite scratch. Not even a Playboy mag could get him right anymore.

He sighs. "You're not my bud to blossom, sweetheart." Brushing the strands out of your face. You tremble at his touch, yet you lean into it. God, he could do anything to you and you'd let him.

"But I'd let you." You grasp his hand. His eyes ream in surprise, but the building arousal jostles up his spine. He may think that blossom is not for him, but he's intently observing how your desire stirs, seeping into your veins. His breath spreads out your petals, the smell of your perfume permeating, intoxicating him.

Your lips part open and his thumb slips in, your saliva coating his gunpowder-stained skin draws an involuntary groan from him. He wants to devour you, but he can't. You're too sweet, too decadent, too fresh. He needs to take his time to savor you. It's wrong, but he can't help himself. Especially when you look up at him with those pretty, perfect doe eyes with his fingers in your mouth.

Your free hand palms at his crotch. It's intrepid, daring how forward you are about your fiery fervor for him. He cocks an eyebrow at you, but he doesn't halt your actions.

"That's a big weapon you're slingin' there, sir." You smirk up at him, squeezing his member over his trousers. "Can I cock it?"

He chuckles at your cheekiness. He wants to disarm you, wipe off everything on his desk, and throw you up there. And you'd be so easy to lift too...

But he's shocked when your lips lock with his, a dauntless action on your part. A subordinate fraternizing with her superior? It's enough to get you locked up, and dishonorably charged, but this wasn't the minor leagues anymore. You were hunting for bigger fish. Something that's beyond the crumbling American government outside these four walls. There's a spark between the both of you that you've been waiting to ignite in him, and he can no longer suppress his deepest hunger pains for his carnal needs.

And soon he is swiping away at the stacks of papers and stationery that lines his desk, hoisting you up to sit that pretty ass on his mahogany counter. A gruff moan escapes his lips as you collide once more, and you're practically clawing at his chest. His tongue slips between your lips wanting to collect yours as your teeth clash in desperate need for each other's solace.

His hands grasp at your wrists, slowing you down, wanting to relish in your taste, your smell, your touch, and the way you moan when he dips his head in the crook of your neck to sensually kiss at your sweet spot. Perspiration builds at the base of his forehead as he slowly unzips your fleece, revealing more of your skin and he kisses at your sternum. Your fingers thread through his silver hair and your breaths become labored at his hot touch.

He wants to build as much anticipation as possible before he takes all of you, all of what you'll allow him at least. Impatiently, your arms cross over your chest, pinching at the hem and smoothly peeling off the skin-tight fabric, leaving you only in your tactical bra. Elias pauses for a second. He loves to appreciate the finer things in life.

His fingers caress your disheveled plait from the top to where your hair tie keeps it bound and he gently removes it. You analyze the lust and admiration in his features as he carefully unweaves your hair.

You watch as his Adam's apple oscillates. "You're beautiful." He susurrates, carding his fingers through your hair. Your heart stammers against your chest when you notice how he looks at you. The rough pads of his fingers glide over your collarbone to the strap of your bra, and slides either side off of your shoulder to reveal your naked breasts. Your nipples instantly harden from the chill in the room, and he gulps before reaching out to squeeze your left one.

To say it had been a while was simply an understatement. The touch of a woman has been lost on him since the death of his wife. So soft, so supple. He pinches at your bud and you involuntarily arch your back and whine out. The guilt he feels dissipates the second his lips latch onto your nipple and you shudder as his tongue swirls around the sensitive skin. "Captain...!"

He gently hushes and kisses your lips tenderly, then your cheek, your jaw as he cops another feel, grabbing two handfuls of your tits while he sucks on your neck. One of his hands glides over the expanse of your abdomen, to unbuckle your belt and unzip your trousers--

"Dad?"

Shit, he left the office unlocked. But it's too late. His boys are stepping through the door, although it's not long before their eyes ream at your half-naked form, legs spread with their father between them. Hesh quickly shuts the door and you both glance down, feeling the guilt skulk into your minds.

"I should go--" Elias sputters, and you nod as you scramble to put your clothes back on. Now this was humiliating. Being caught by his sons fraternizing with their father is just the icing on the cake of it all. You straighten your hair and fix your collar as you begin to head out the door, but his hand catches your wrist bringing you back flush against his chest.

"Don't think I'm lettin' them scare you off." He caresses your cheek, with thumb and you sigh, cheeks still warm with embarrassment. "I ain't done with you yet, sweetheart. Got that?"

He raises his brows at you and you nod. "Yes, sir."

He kisses you softly and your heart skips a beat. "Go on, now." He gestures toward the door. "I'll deal with those two."

Your lashes flutter up at him and you feel warmth all over. He smiles at you, kissing your wrist and it's no wonder you keep forgetting to leave. His gaze, his aura it's alluring and you keep pulling back in for more.

He chuckles at the hearts in your eyes. "That's an order, soldier."

You straighten at his words and nod before rushing out the door, ensuring you hear the click as you close it and quickly get to your quarters. A feeling of heaviness weighs on your shoulders as soon as you shut your door. How were you going to face Hesh and Logan?

[theetherealbloom]

AS GOOD A REASON - CH. 2 | OBERYN MARTELL

Chapter Two: Let The Dance With The Devil Begin

Summary: You, who has made it her life's work to get retribution on those who mistreated and harassed you when you were a child. The scars on your body are a physical reminder of the suffering you endured at the hands of abusers, and they also provide the fuel for your years-long quest for retribution.

Paring: Oberyn Martell x Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ MDNI DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT, MINORS GO AWAY, GoT is full of serious and harmful topics, mentions of SA, Rape (not the reader), Murder, Violence, Gore, War, Poison, Scars, Burns, Scratching, Su!c!de, AU, Age–Gap Romance, Angst, FLUFF, Eventual SMUT, Swearing, PTSD, Depression, Anxiety, Crying, Suggestive content, Flirting, Blood, War, Religion References, Nudity, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Prostitution, Weapons, Fire, Horror, Character Deaths, Rewrite Alternate Universe, Sex, Alcohol, Revenge

Word Count: 7k

A/N: Omfg. I took so long to write this I know T^T Thank you for being patient with me! I just decided to have a mini break bcs I was jet lagged from travelling and had to focus on my health for a little bit. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: The Albatross by Taylor Swift

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RED KEEP, WESTEROS - 300 AC

You spent two decades carefully avoiding forming deep bonds, all the while meticulously plotting your revenge. You studied their weaknesses, habits, and relationships, patiently biding your time until you could strike from close range.

You had noticed the lingering glances between Cersei Lannister and Jaime Lannister, their whispered conversations turning into passionate encounters. So when Cersei bore a child, rumored to be the result of her incestuous relationship, and as you witnessed Joffrey Baratheon growing into a likeness of his parents, you recorded every detail in your leather-bound notebook. It contained all the information about those responsible for the death of Elia Martell, ensuring no detail escaped your scrutiny.

Serena, a girl you befriended in the bustling stables, is a steadfast ally in your quest for vengeance. Together, you both meticulously gather intelligence, weaving through the whispers of the kitchen staff and the secrets shared in the shadowy corners of brothels. With her keen eyes and your shared determination, you stalk those who have wronged you, laying the groundwork for your calculated retribution.

In the heart of the Seven Kingdoms, the struggle for power rages on. Joffrey Baratheon, seated upon the Iron Throne, wields authority backed by the formidable House Lannister. However, his claim faces challenge from his uncle Renly, who, bolstered by the might of House Tyrell, presses his own bid for kingship. In this turmoil, Tyrion Lannister arrives in King's Landing, aiming to assert control, only to find himself at odds with his conniving sister, Cersei, now entrenched as Queen Regent.

As autumn blankets the realm and whispers of an impending winter linger, Westeros braces for the bitter cold ahead. Yet, instead of preparing for the harsh season, the land remains conflicted. Renly Baratheon's sudden demise alters the tides of allegiance, leaving the political landscape in flux. Meanwhile, Joffrey, with the backing of House Tyrell, emerges victorious in a decisive clash against his uncle Stannis, solidifying his hold on power.

The fates of many hang precariously in the balance. In the labyrinthine corridors of King's Landing, both Tyrion Lannister and Sansa Stark navigate treacherous waters, their survival dependent on their ability to navigate the perilous currents of court intrigue.

You had served Sansa since the day she was first betrothed to King Joffrey. Back then, she had been full of dreams—visions of knighthood, love, and a golden crown. But those dreams quickly soured, turning into nightmares as the Lannisters’ hold over her tightened. What was once a promising union became a gilded cage. They kept her in the Red Keep, a prisoner beneath layers of silk and politeness. 

Sansa clung to her “lady-like” pursuits to distract from the harshness of her reality—sewing, embroidery, poetry, and music. Her stitches were always delicate, her voice soft, yet behind her graceful demeanor, you saw the cracks. You were there when Septa Mordane led her through the Red Keep’s throne room for a lesson in history. It was meant to be a glimpse into the glory of the Targaryens and the rulers of old, but instead, Sansa’s gaze lingered on the dark stain where her grandfather and uncle had been butchered by the Mad King. Her face paled, and she pressed her lips into a thin line, haunted by the ghosts of her own blood.

One evening, as she sat embroidering by the window, she confided in you. “Do you think I’ll be able to give Joffrey sons?” Her voice wavered. “What if… What if I’m only able to give him daughters, like Jeyne Poole’s mother?”

You tried to find reassuring words, though even Septa Mordane's attempts had done little to ease her fears. “You’re young, my lady. You will bear many children in time.”

Her blue eyes, wide with fear, met yours, but she said nothing more.

The Hand’s tournament arrived, and Sansa, despite everything, seemed to sparkle for a brief moment amidst the finery of the lords and knights. You stood in the shadows, watching her as she watched them. Ser Gregor Clegane, The Mountain, was a towering presence, and you felt a chill run down your spine as he unseated Ser Hugh of the Vale, killing him in the dust of the joust. Littlefinger whispered dark stories to Sansa of the Hound’s past, tales of burned flesh and brutal lessons. You saw the way Sansa’s hands trembled as she absorbed the horrors hidden beneath the chivalry.

Yet, there were moments of fleeting happiness. Ser Loras Tyrell, the famed Knight of the Flowers, gave her a single rose before his tilt with Ser Gregor. She blushed under his attention, but you noticed how Loras’s gaze lingered not on her, but on Renly Baratheon, who stood just behind. That small act of kindness, hollow as it was, brought a rare smile to Sansa’s lips, even as the court applauded Sandor Clegane’s intervention to stop his brother’s rampage.

But that brief joy was drowned by the darkness that soon followed. When King Robert Baratheon died after a hunting “accident,” everything unraveled. Eddard Stark, honorable as always, tried to reveal the truth about Joffrey’s parentage, but it was too late. You weren’t surprised when Littlefinger betrayed him. You had seen the cunning in his eyes long before, the way he played everyone like pieces on a cyvasse board. 

Chaos erupted. Eddard’s men, loyal to the last, were slaughtered by Lannister guardsmen led by Sandor Clegane. You remembered Mordane’s voice trembling as she urged Sansa to lock herself in their chambers. But there was no hiding from the Lannisters. They took her.

You watched from a distance as Sansa was humiliated before the court, her innocence crushed beneath the weight of Cersei’s cold cruelty. She stood there, trembling, and you saw the beginning of a transformation. The girl who once dreamed of knights and love was slowly breaking, her innocence being stripped away by every sneer, every command, every cold laugh in the throne room.

You wished you could offer her comfort, but in King’s Landing, comfort was as fleeting as mercy.

The great Sept was filled with the hum of whispers, the heavy weight of tension hanging in the air as Eddard Stark stood before the court. His face, weathered by years of honor and battle, now looked hollow, beaten by betrayal. You stood in the shadows, where servants always stood, your eyes flicking between the high lords and the northern Warden. As the silence fell, Eddard knelt, acknowledging his so-called “crimes” and pledging loyalty to King Joffrey.

For a moment, it seemed the court might breathe again. Sansa stood nearby, her hands trembling. Hope flickered in her eyes—briefly. But Joffrey, perched on the Iron Throne like some twisted boy-king out of a nightmare, leaned forward with a smile sharp as a blade. His words fell like a thunderclap. “Bring me his head.”

Sansa's scream cut through the hall, raw and broken. She lunged forward, hysterical, her voice lost in a storm of pleading, but the gold cloaks restrained her, forcing her back. Her cries—“Please, mercy, mercy!”—rang in your ears, making your stomach turn. 

Ser Ilyn Payne stepped forward, cold and unfeeling as he drew Ice, the greatsword of House Stark. You could see the light catch the edge of the steel, and the last thing Sansa saw before she fainted was her father’s final, resigned glance.

You moved through the chaos as a shadow. Your duty to Sansa came first, so as the blood pooled on the Sept’s floor, you carried her from the carnage, her limp body heavy with grief. The days that followed were hollow. She barely spoke, her eyes vacant as you tended to her, making sure she ate, dressing her in the Lannisters' silks even as her soul remained buried in sorrow.

It was one of those somber evenings when she finally spoke, her voice so faint you almost missed it. “Do you… serve the Lannisters?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

You paused, setting down the tray of untouched food, meeting her tired gaze. “Yes, my lady,” you answered softly.

Sansa’s eyes flickered with something—confusion, maybe anger. “Have they always been this cruel?” she asked, her words trembling with an innocent horror.

You weighed your response carefully, then nodded. “From what I’ve heard, unfortunately, yes.”

Her lips parted as she considered your answer, but it was her next question that cut deeper. “Then why do you serve them?”

You lowered your eyes, your hands folding over the fabric of her gown, the lie of your position hanging heavy on your shoulders. “It’s something I wager on,” you murmured, your voice steady despite the unease in your chest.

Sansa, always perceptive, frowned. “Is that the only kind of wager you make?”

For a moment, you froze. Then you let a faint smile tug at the corner of your lips, the words “Unbowed, unbent, unbroken” echoing in your heart, though unspoken. “There was one time I bet my entire life on something,” you confessed quietly.

She looked at you then, truly looked, her tear-streaked face searching yours. “Did you win?”

Your smile faltered, but you met her gaze with a spark of determination. “I’m planning to,” you said, with a quiet promise hanging between the two of you.

KING’S LANDING, RED KEEP — 300 AC

The stone walls of the Red Keep felt colder that night, the flickering torchlight casting long shadows on the ancient stones. In a small, dimly lit chamber tucked away from the grand halls, you worked in silence, the weight of your plan pressing down like the calm before a storm. Every movement was deliberate, each thought sharper than the edge of a Valyrian blade. The game was already in motion, and you were setting the pieces in place.

You had long been underestimated—a mere servant, a shadow in the background of the powerful Lannisters, Tyrells, and Martells. Yet, you had seen the truth: the most dangerous players were often those who remained unseen. You were one of them, a silent force, blending into the background while carefully planting the seeds of destruction. The poison, subtle and undetectable, was your weapon.

A soft knock interrupted your focus. The door creaked open, and there stood Petyr Baelish—Littlefinger himself. His thin lips curved into a smile, but there was no warmth in it, only calculation.

“Ah, a quiet place for quiet minds,” he murmured, his voice smooth as silk, eyes darting around the chamber before settling on you.

You raised your head slowly, meeting his gaze with a calm that belied the storm brewing inside you. Littlefinger wasn’t a man easily intimidated, but neither were you. Two wolves circling, each looking for the other’s weakness.

“You seem to find yourself in many quiet places, Lord Baelish,” you replied, voice soft but pointed. “What brings you here?”

He moved closer, his steps light, like a predator stalking prey. “Just ensuring the right wheels keep turning, ensuring the chaos that follows serves the right cause.” His gaze lingered on your hands, noting the fine movements as you handled a small vial, the liquid within almost imperceptibly shifting.

You allowed a small, knowing smile. “Chaos... Chaos can be useful. But only if it’s controlled.”

His eyebrow raised, amusement flashing in his eyes. “Controlled chaos? Now, that’s an art.”

You carefully set the vial down, your voice lowering to a conspiratorial tone. “What if the chaos that’s already simmering were to boil over? What if, after Joffrey’s wedding, his reign came to an... unexpected end?”

Baelish didn’t blink, though you could see the subtle change in his posture, the slight narrowing of his eyes. You hadn’t suggested anything outright—it was the art of planting the idea, the delicate balance of nudging him without him realizing he’d been led.

He took a slow breath, his mind already racing. “And who, I wonder, would have the audacity to arrange such an unexpected end?”

You smiled, but didn’t answer directly, your silence speaking volumes. Instead, you moved the conversation forward, allowing the implication to sink in.

“The realm is already full of hungry wolves, my lord,” you said, your voice steady, your hands working deftly as you began to clear away your tools. “All it takes is a nudge in the right direction, and they’ll tear each other apart. No one will stop to notice who did the nudging.”

Littlefinger tilted his head, studying you for a moment longer. “Perhaps,” he mused, his tone as noncommittal as ever, “but wolves are tricky. You can never be sure which way they’ll turn.”

“That’s true,” you conceded, meeting his eyes directly. “But I’ve always been good at reading the pack.”

The silence that followed was heavy, each of you measuring the other, testing the boundaries. He wouldn’t act on your words immediately. Littlefinger was too careful, too meticulous for that. But you could see the spark in his eyes—the idea was there, planted, waiting to take root.

With a nod, he turned to leave, but paused at the doorway. “You have a dangerous mind,” he remarked, half admiration, half warning. “Be careful. The pack bites back.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Only if they see the one holding the leash.”

Days passed, and as you moved through the grand halls of the Red Keep, you watched everything begin to fall into place. Like a silent puppeteer, you pulled the strings without ever needing to step into the light.

Varys had been busy, moving pieces on the board that even you hadn’t expected. Ros had whispered in his ear, and soon after, Lady Olenna Tyrell had been brought into the fold. The whispers of a marriage between Sansa Stark and Loras Tyrell spread through the castle like wildfire. You had always known Varys to be a man of schemes, but even you marveled at how quickly he moved.

In the gardens, you overheard the conversations as they unfolded—subtle, quiet, but filled with power. Lady Olenna, with her sharp wit and keen mind, was already orchestrating her plans, likely envisioning a future without Joffrey’s cruel reign.

You stood in the shadows as Littlefinger passed by, his expression unreadable. He had heard your suggestion, and though you were not directly involved, you knew the idea had taken root. He would set things in motion, ensuring the chaos that followed would serve him—and you would remain unseen, untouched by the blood that would soon spill.

RED KEEP, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The War of the Five Kings dragged on, but within the Red Keep, the battles were far subtler, fought with whispers and veiled threats. Your life as a servant under King Joffrey's reign had grown increasingly unbearable. Between the relentless demands of court life and the constant fear of his cruelty, you found little time to care for yourself.

Your headache throbbed—a reminder that you hadn’t eaten since dawn, and the long days had begun to blur into endless nights. It wasn’t uncommon for you to push through these spells, but this time felt different. The world around you grew heavier, your limbs sluggish, and the gardens seemed far away.

Basket in hand, filled with fruit from the kitchens, you trudged through the Red Keep's gardens. The bright afternoon light stabbed at your eyes, worsening the pounding in your head. You tried to focus on your task, but each step felt more labored, and a cold sweat broke out on your skin.

As you rounded a corner near the overgrown hedges, your vision blurred. The world tilted. The cobbled path beneath your feet shifted into an unforgiving blur of stone and soil, and with a muffled thud, everything went black.

In that hazy in-between of consciousness, a voice pulls you back—familiar, though distant. “He would have liked you,” Princess Elia’s voice echoes in your mind.

“Whom do you speak of, my lady?” you had once asked her, back when the Red Keep still buzzed with life and not dread.

“My brother. Oberyn. He’s trouble, but even so, I love him dearly.”

For a brief moment, you can almost feel her presence, and the weight of the past rushes over you like a cold wave. You blink, pulling yourself out of the memory just as a different voice fills your ears. A deeper one, full of curiosity and something unreadable.

You woke slowly, your senses coming back in fragments: the scent of crushed grass, the cool air against your skin, and the distant murmur of voices. Your eyes fluttered open, adjusting to the filtered sunlight through the leaves overhead.

"Careful. Don’t rush."

The voice was deep, tinged with amusement. A hand—warm and strong—rested on your shoulder, gently holding you down. You blinked, focusing on the face above you, unfamiliar yet striking. Dark, sharp eyes, framed by lustrous and black with only a few silver streaks recede from his brow into a widow's peak. The emblem of a red sun pierced by a golden spear embroidered on his tunic caught your eye.

Oberyn Martell. The Red Viper of Dorne.

“Are you injured?” His voice held a soft curiosity as if you were some puzzle he intended to unravel.

You shook your head, still disoriented. "No, I... I must have fainted."

He raised an eyebrow, glancing at the basket of spilled fruit beside you. “It seems you’ve been overworking yourself. King Joffrey’s court, I assume? They’re not known for their kindness.”

A rush of embarrassment warmed your cheeks. You scrambled to sit up, but Oberyn’s hand remained firm.

“Take your time,” he said, his tone softening. “Even a servant deserves a moment to breathe.”

You weren’t used to kindness, especially not from someone of his stature. His reputation as a fierce and dangerous man preceded him, yet there was something else—an air of compassion, albeit hidden beneath his sharp edges.

“I’m... grateful,” you murmured, unsure of how to respond. “But I should get back to my duties. They won’t—”

Oberyn interrupted with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Let them wait. The Lannisters have their claws in many, but even a viper can strike when the time is right.”

There was a pause, a subtle shift in the air between you and Oberyn Martell. His gaze lingered a little longer than necessary, and though his words were casual, they held an undercurrent you couldn’t quite place. It was as though he saw something deeper in you, something more than just a servant tending to her duties. Fate, or perhaps something far more dangerous, had drawn his attention to you.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his lips as he stood upright, his dark eyes gleaming with a playful intensity. "You Dornish are known for our... passions," he said, his voice a low, deliberate purr. "But it seems fate has a way of placing beauty in my path, whether I ask for it or not."

You blink, unsure of how to respond, heat rising uncomfortably to your face. He stepped closer, his presence both magnetic and overwhelming. His fingers brushed lightly against your wrist, lingering there a moment longer than propriety would allow. "Tell me," Oberyn continued, his tone playful yet edged with something deeper, "does a woman like you often find herself fainting at the feet of princes? Or is this a rare occasion?"

Your breath hitched, panic flaring inside you, though you did your best to suppress it. Affection—let alone attention—was something you were unaccustomed to. His flirtation was like a wildfire, threatening to burn through the careful walls you'd built around yourself.

"I... I don’t..." you stammered, trying to pull your thoughts together, your mind racing. You weren’t used to being noticed, not like this, not by someone like him.

Oberyn tilted his head, his smirk widening as if he could sense the flurry of emotions raging within you. "Don't be shy," he murmured, voice lowering as his eyes roamed over you with quiet curiosity. "I can see there's much more to you than meets the eye." 

The words felt like a tease, a challenge wrapped in silk, and your heart pounded in your chest, caught between the instinct to flee or stand frozen in place. Oberyn Martell's gaze seemed to strip away every defense you had carefully built over the years, as though he could see straight through the mask of servitude you wore.

You forced yourself to take a deep breath, steadying your trembling nerves. This was not the time to panic, not in front of the Red Viper of Dorne. He was too sharp, too dangerous, and your heart fluttered at the way his presence seemed to unsettle the very air around you.

Without answering the prince’s flirtatious remark, you bent down to hurriedly gather the fallen fruit, your fingers clumsy as you fumbled with the basket. But even as you moved, you felt his eyes on you, watching every motion with an almost predatory amusement.

A soft chuckle escaped his lips as he crouched beside you, his hand brushing yours as he handed you one of the scattered apples. "You're in quite the hurry," he murmured, the smirk never leaving his face. His touch lingered, deliberately slow as he placed the fruit in your basket.

You rose quickly, trying to distance yourself, but Oberyn stood just as swiftly. Before you could retreat, he grasped your wrist, pulling it gently toward him. His movements were fluid, effortless, as if this were a dance he had long perfected. He raised your hand to his lips, his dark eyes locked on yours, and pressed a kiss to your knuckles—his lips soft, warm against your skin.

Your breath caught, panic fluttering in your chest like a trapped bird. Heat crept up your neck, your heart racing as you tried to pull yourself together, but his touch seemed to set your mind spinning.

Just then, Oberyn’s eyes shifted, narrowing as he caught sight of something—your scars, peeking out from beneath your long sleeves. His brow furrowed ever so slightly, curiosity flashing across his features. He tilted his head, about to speak.

But you jerked your hand away, the sudden movement sharp, almost frantic. "I should go," you blurted, the words tumbling out hastily. You gathered your things, your pulse still thrumming wildly as you turned on your heel, desperate to escape his piercing gaze.

As you hurried away, you could feel Oberyn's eyes lingering on your retreating form, his expression unreadable. Even in your rush, you couldn’t shake the feeling that the prince wasn’t done with you yet.

KING'S LANDING, WESTEROS – 301 AC

The sun hung high over King’s Landing, its golden light casting a deceptive warmth over the cool sea breeze that drifted in from Blackwater Bay. You stood with Marei at the edge of the courtyard, the bustle of the palace below and the hum of the city distant beneath the tranquil air. The garden was alive with color, a stark contrast to the heavy gloom that clung to those gathered at the banquet table.

Shae moved with a quiet urgency, filling a plate with food from the banquet spread. She placed it in front of Sansa, who sat still, pale and lifeless, her face void of any spark. Her slender hands rested on her lap, unmoving. It was as if she had already become a shadow, despite still breathing.

“You need to eat something,” Shae urged softly, her voice carrying both concern and exasperation.

Sansa did not stir. 

“Pigeon pie,” Shae offered, her tone gentler now, but Sansa’s pale lips barely moved as she whispered, “No, thank you.”

A sigh escaped Shae, but she quickly turned back to the table, scanning for something else. With a quick motion, she removed Sansa's untouched plate and placed a new offering in front of her. “Lemon cakes?” Shae asked, a glimmer of hope in her voice. Everyone knew Sansa's love for lemon cakes.

Sansa’s voice, barely a whisper, responded again. “No, thank you.”

Shae’s expression faltered. “You love lemon cakes.”

But Sansa remained unmoved, as if the world around her had lost all meaning. Shae’s shoulders slumped in frustration, her eyes flicking toward you and Marei before glancing at the entrance of the courtyard.

Tyrion Lannister entered the garden with deliberate steps, his short legs struggling to match the long strides of the men he was often compared to. His eyes, sharp and calculating, scanned the scene with quick efficiency. Despite his stature, you had learned well enough that Lord Tyrion Lannister was not a man to be underestimated. His mind was his sharpest weapon.

“Tyrion,” Shae called out to him with a sigh of relief. “Tell her she needs to eat.”

Tyrion approached the table, offering a small, polite smile. “My lady, you do need to eat.”

Sansa’s gaze remained fixed somewhere in the distance, her hands limp in her lap. “I don’t need to eat,” she said softly, without even looking at him.

Tyrion hesitated for a moment, glancing between Shae, you, and Marei. His expression was measured, patient. “Could I have a moment alone with my wife?” he asked gently, though his tone held the firmness of a command.

You exchanged a quick look with Marei before bowing your head and stepping away. Shae, however, lingered, her eyes flashing with concern and defiance. She crossed her arms, unwilling to yield.

“She needs to eat,” Shae said stubbornly, her eyes narrowing as she looked between Tyrion and Sansa. 

Tyrion met her gaze, his expression imploring, but Shae’s frustration was palpable. With one last glance at Sansa, Shae reluctantly turned and left the garden.

Tyrion took a seat across from Sansa, his eyes softening as he reached out to take her hand. His grip was gentle, but firm enough to draw her from her daze. “I can’t let you starve, Sansa,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with quiet compassion.

Sansa didn’t react. She stared past him, her blue eyes hollow, as if the world had dulled to nothing but gray. Shae, now at the far end of the garden, cast a furious glance back toward Tyrion, her anger simmering just beneath the surface.

A FEW DAYS LATER

KITCHEN KEEP, KING'S LANDING — DAY

The kitchen was a chaotic blend of sounds and smells, with servants rushing around, preparing the feast for the garden party. You focused on your tasks, slicing fruits and arranging them neatly, hoping the repetitive motions would calm the unease bubbling in your chest. The Lannisters' garden parties always came with tension—too many eyes, too many secrets.

Serena, ever observant, moved beside you with a conspiratorial smile. Her presence had always been a quiet comfort, an unspoken pact between two women wronged by the same family. She nudged your side playfully, her voice just loud enough for you to hear over the clattering pans and murmurs of other servants.

“Guess what I overheard in the gardens earlier,” she whispered, her eyes sparkling with the excitement of fresh gossip.

You glanced up, your curiosity piqued. “What is it now?”

She leaned in closer, her voice dropping even lower. “Tyrion and Lord Varys were having one of their secret little chats. Something about Shae.” She gave a sly smile before recounting the conversation she’d overheard, her voice adopting a mocking impression of Tyrion's measured tone.

“Lord Varys. Breakfasting with the king?”

Your hands paused over the fruit, recognizing the weight of that simple greeting. Serena continued, now mimicking Varys’ smooth, ever-cautious reply.

“I’m afraid foreigners aren’t welcome at such exclusive affairs,” she quoted, barely concealing a smirk.

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the slight smile that tugged at your lips. Tyrion and Varys—always circling each other, testing the limits of loyalty and power. Serena’s impression was spot on, and the dry chuckle she added to Varys’ line brought the exchange to life.

“Oh, to be foreign,” she muttered in Tyrion’s voice before glancing around the bustling kitchen with exaggerated suspicion, mimicking Varys’ quiet amusement.

“Ahem,” she finished with a soft laugh.

The kitchen clamor drowned out any chance of someone overhearing, but you kept your gaze fixed on your hands, focusing on the fruit before you. "What did they say after that?" you asked in a low voice, not wanting to appear too interested but knowing that information like this was often a lifeline in King's Landing.

Serena's smile dimmed slightly as she continued, her tone more serious now. “They were talking about Shae. Varys warned Tyrion that she’s been noticed. That Sansa’s maid saw them together, and it’s only a matter of time before Cersei—and worse, Tywin—find out.”

Your breath hitched slightly. That was dangerous—too dangerous for a place like this.

You glanced up at Serena, who nodded grimly. “Varys told Tyrion his father has promised to hang the next whore he’s found with.”

Your stomach twisted, though you managed to keep your expression neutral. Information like this could be a weapon if used correctly. But it also carried its own risks, especially for someone like you, who lived in the shadows of these powerful people. You simply nodded and whispered, "Thank you."

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, DAY — 301 AC

The gardens of the Red Keep, beautiful though they were, could not ease the tension that clung to the air. The lush greenery and sea breeze seemed wasted on the gathering before you, where cruelty simmered beneath the surface. You moved silently among the servants, pouring wine, offering trays of food, your head low as your sharp eyes observed everything. No one here was truly safe—not even those who smiled and pretended otherwise.

You had learned long ago to watch, to listen, to see things others missed. And here, among the so-called lords and ladies, your simmering hatred boiled just beneath the surface. Revenge had a way of lurking in quiet moments like these, waiting for the perfect opportunity.

At the head of the table sat King Joffrey, his golden crown glinting in the sun like a mockery of all that was just. Around him, the key players of the realm gathered: Queen Cersei, her eyes sharp and watchful; Lord Tywin, stoic and commanding as always; Prince Tommen, innocent and ignorant of the malice around him; and Grand Maester Pycelle, old and leering.

But your attention flickered to Sansa Stark. Pale, withdrawn, her once-vibrant spirit all but crushed under the weight of her suffering. She sat beside her husband, Tyrion Lannister, who, despite his small stature, radiated an awareness far sharper than anyone gave him credit for. The tension between them was palpable, an unspoken grief they both carried.

Your heart tightened as you watched, knowing Sansa's pain was not unlike your own. Like her, you had learned to survive in silence, though your silence was of a different kind. The Lannisters had taken too much from you. They were going to pay for it one day, one way or another.

Across the table, Lord Mace Tyrell puffed out his chest, carrying a gleaming goblet, his voice filled with a pride that bordered on foolishness.

“From House Tyrell and the people of the Reach, Your Grace, it is my honor to present you with this wedding cup.”

He placed the goblet before Joffrey, who barely looked at it, his lips curling into a mocking smile.

“A handsome goblet, my lord. Or shall I call you Father?”

You noted how Mace Tyrell’s face flushed with both pride and unease. He bowed deeply. “I would be honored, Your Grace.”

As Mace withdrew, Shae moved gracefully through the crowd, setting a tray before Sansa. You saw how her eyes flickered toward the young girl, but there was no response from Sansa, no recognition of the kindness that once might have been there.

Then, the sharp voice of Queen Cersei pierced the moment, her words venomous.

“She’s the whore I told you about. The dark-haired one.”

Your blood boiled as you saw Shae stiffen. The insult cut through the air like a blade, but Shae, ever composed, turned to leave without a word. You noticed how Tywin’s cold eyes followed her, narrowing as she walked away.

“Have her brought to the Tower of the Hand before the wedding,” Tywin ordered, his voice devoid of any emotion, yet as sharp as a death sentence.

Tyrion’s face darkened. You could see the concern etched into his features, his helplessness as he tried to control a situation slipping further out of his grasp. Your heart raced, knowing the precarious game being played here—and how dangerous it was for all involved.

Shae’s departure was barely noticed as Podrick stepped forward, carrying a large tome. He placed it carefully before Joffrey, and Tyrion followed, a strained smile on his face as he addressed the king.

“A book,” Joffrey said, his voice dripping with disdain.

Tyrion clasped his hands together, speaking with calm civility. “The Lives of Four Kings. Grand Maester Kaeth’s history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good. A book every king should read.”

For a brief moment, Joffrey hesitated. His sharp tongue seemed to fail him as the weight of the gift hovered in the air. But Tywin’s piercing gaze prodded him, and the boy-king forced a mocking smile.

“Now that the war is won, we should all find time for wisdom,” Joffrey said, his voice laced with scorn. “Thank you, Uncle.”

Tyrion bowed, but the tension between them crackled like a hidden storm.

Before anyone could breathe, The Mountain lumbered forward, carrying a sword swathed in black cloth. He laid it before Joffrey with all the reverence of a knight presenting a sacred relic. Tywin rose, his voice steeped in gravitas as he spoke.

“One of only two Valyrian steel swords in the capital, Your Grace, freshly forged in your honor.”

Joffrey’s eyes gleamed with an almost childlike excitement as he tore the sword from its sheath, its blade gleaming ominously in the sunlight. You felt a ripple of unease roll through the gathered nobles as the blade sliced through the air.

“Careful, Your Grace,” Pycelle croaked from his seat. “Nothing cuts like Valyrian steel.”

But Joffrey’s wicked grin only widened. “So they say.”

In a sudden, violent movement, Joffrey swung the sword down, cleaving the book Tyrion had gifted him clean in half. The sound of tearing parchment and splintering leather echoed through the garden. A gasp rippled through the crowd, but Joffrey was delighted with himself.

“Such a great sword should have a name,” Joffrey declared, his eyes burning with cruel glee. “What shall I call her?”

The crowd murmured suggestions, none of which seemed to please the boy-king. But then, his lips curled into a malicious grin.

“Widow’s Wail. I like that. Every time I use it, it’ll be like cutting off Ned Stark’s head all over again.”

His words sent a shiver down your spine. You saw Sansa freeze beside him, her face drained of color, her entire body rigid with the memory of her father’s execution. Across the garden, Shae watched, her eyes narrowing with unspoken fury.

You kept your head down, but the seething rage inside you boiled hotter. One day, they would all pay for this. The Lannisters, their cruelty, their arrogance—it would all come crashing down. And you would make sure of it.

KING’S LANDING GARDEN, LATE AFTERNOON — 301 AC

The preparations for the royal wedding between Joffrey and Margaery were endless, consuming the days and nights of everyone within the Red Keep. But while others concerned themselves with the surface duties, your mind was preoccupied with a far more dangerous task.

The thought of the Strangler stones hidden within Sansa's necklace gnawed at you. The pieces were already in motion, each step methodically planned. Your hands moved through the flowers you were tasked with arranging, but your thoughts were elsewhere, carefully calculating the next move in your plot to bring down King Joffrey without implicating yourself. 

As you worked alone in the gardens, the late afternoon sun blazed overhead. The sweat clung to your skin, and the heat forced you to roll your sleeves up just enough to reveal the faint, jagged lines of scars that adorned your forearms. The burn scars, remnants of your brutal encounter with Ser Gregor Clegane, were still a reminder of what you endured—and survived. The pain was still fresh, but it fueled your resolve. Spite, after all, was a powerful motivator.

You barely noticed the approaching footsteps until a shadow fell across your path. Looking up, you were met with the sharp, knowing gaze of Oberyn Martell. His smirk was playful, as it often was, but there was something deeper there—an intensity that sent a ripple of unease through you. 

"You work too hard," he said smoothly, his voice like silk. "It’s a crime to see such beauty covered in dirt."

You straightened, brushing your hands on your apron, trying to keep the panic from showing. "I have my duties, my lord," you replied, keeping your tone even. The way Oberyn looked at you—intense, almost predatory—made your heart race, though you tried to remain composed.

He crouched beside you, plucking a flower from the arrangement and twirling it between his fingers. His eyes flicked briefly to the scars on your arm, scars you quickly moved to conceal by rolling down your sleeves. But it was too late—Oberyn’s gaze lingered on them for just a moment, something unreadable flickering in his expression. 

The way he studied you wasn’t merely out of curiosity, but recognition. His next words carried a weight that hung in the air between you both. 

"There are stories... of a servant who once attended to Princess Elia." Oberyn’s tone remained casual, but you could feel the shift, the tension creeping in as he spoke. "They say she escaped the Sack of King’s Landing with her life. Barely."

Your breath hitched, but you forced yourself to remain still. You had heard those stories too. After all, you had lived them.

Oberyn leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "Some say she vanished, swallowed by the chaos. Others claim she survived through sheer will, fueled by spite." His dark eyes locked onto yours, searching. "I wonder… do you know of such tales?"

The question lingered in the air, heavy with suspicion. You met his gaze, your heart pounding in your chest, but your face remained a mask of composure. "Many stories are told in King’s Landing, my lord. Few of them hold any truth."

Oberyn’s lips curled into a faint smile, but his eyes remained sharp, watching you carefully. "Perhaps," he murmured. "But then again, some tales are more dangerous than others." He stood up, still twirling the flower between his fingers, casting one last glance at your concealed scars. "Sometimes, survival speaks louder than words."

Before you could respond, the sound of footsteps interrupted the moment. Ellaria Sand approached, her eyes already on you. There was a possessiveness in her gaze, though softened by intrigue.

“So this is the woman who has caught my prince’s eye,” Ellaria remarked, her voice a low purr as she moved closer, her hand brushing lightly against Oberyn’s shoulder.

You bowed your head, hiding the inner storm brewing within you. "My lady," you greeted, though the tension in the air was unmistakable.

Ellaria’s gaze flicked to Oberyn, then back to you. “She is different,” she said, her tone intrigued, but there was an edge of caution in her words. “I wonder what it is you see in her, my love?”

Oberyn chuckled softly, his attention still on you. “There’s something about her,” he said, his voice smooth, yet laced with deeper meaning. “Something familiar.”

Ellaria looped her arm through his, drawing him closer to her side. “Familiar or not, I trust you know where your loyalties lie.”

Oberyn’s smile deepened, but his gaze didn’t waver from you. "Always," he replied to Ellaria, but his words were aimed at you, and the unspoken suspicion between you both lingered in the air, unsaid but undeniable.

As the two of them moved off together, your heart pounded in your chest. Oberyn's words, the way he had looked at you—he was starting to piece it together. He suspected who you truly were, but for now, he remained silent, watching. You returned to your task, but the weight of his suspicion clung to you. 

Everything had only just begun, and you were already in far deeper than you had anticipated. But like the scars on your skin, the memories of your past had shaped you into what you were now. And just like that day long ago, you would survive.

TAGLIST:

@christinamadsen

[aestheticpearl]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩𝐬𝐚𝐤𝐮𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐜 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬 ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

✧·˚feat: kayson mayer, jonah, xanthus claiborne, andrew marston, issac rhoades, elias, zaros athat'lin, luca pearce, rowan

✧·˚summary: this is basically just my headcanons of what kind of music each character listens to and their favorite albums since saku only really listens to soundtracks and can’t really tell what they would like (that is a joke btw i know you also listen to some kpop)

✧·˚a/n: music is a very important thing to me so i hope i did everyone justice and feel free to add your opinions as well!

kayson mayer ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

you never walk alone - bts . fine line - harry styles . hard to imagine the neighborhood ever changing - the neighborhood

okay hear me out, i definitely think kayson would be a kpop fan, not like a kpop stan more of a “i enjoy their music” more than anything. i feel like kayson isn’t huge on music but he love the slower stuff when he’s not at practice or trying to get pumped up for volleyball. he seems to have more of a moody taste in music in contrast to his more up beat personality, but i mean we all gotta cry over something.

jonah ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

HIT ME HARD AND SOFT - billie eilish . currents - tame impala . brat - charli xcx

this bitch definitely loves billie eilish. only man i know that definitely cries to ‘what was i made for?’ besides kayson maybe. he fucks heavy with tame impala, but not in the master manipulator why that other man fuck with it. he loves having them on in the background of streams mostly. hyper pop king, loves charli xcx and he is having a brat summer. he is definitely on tiktok so much and is very much influenced by what’s trending on the app.

xanthus claiborne ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT - taylor swift . firebird suite - igor stravinsky . preacher’s daughter - ethel cain

LISTEN OKAY xanthus is the kind to never admit that he would listen to taylor swift but god damn it he loves her new album and her slower stuff she is his guilty pleasure artist for sure. okay he loves classical music but like classical music don’t really have ‘albums’ per say so i chose his favorite piece. firebird suite is something that he has adored the story that is told through the music, same with ethel cain’s preachers daughter. he loves how the music is telling a story more than anything.

andrew marston ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

something to give each other - troye sivan . being funny in a foreign language - the 1975 . harry styles - harry styles

do you feel the rush andrew? sorry. i think honestly he has always loved troye sivan, might be the repressed gay in him but who knows. a full really fond of being funny in a foreign language, loves how raw the whole album is and enjoys the slower ballads. loves the debut album of harry styles, it’s just so soft and sweet he really likes listening to it.

issac rhoades ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

cry - cigarettes after sex . laurel hell - mitski . did you know that there’s a tunnel under ocean blvd - lana del ray

bro is depressed. like i don’t know what you were expecting with him. he knows that most of the songs on the cry album are very sad but some are very sweet and he like the mix of the two. mommy issues up the wazoo so of course he listens to mitski. lana del ray is new and a bit more positive of a listen, it’s almost like someone special came into his life and change the outlook of it a bit.

elias ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

who really cares - tv girl . star boy - the weeknd . positions - ariana grande

something about this tv girl album just screams elias to me and i think he would really enjoy this album the most out of the others. of course he loves the weeknd just look at him, he is a starboy and a party monster on the weekends. this bitch loves ariana grande’s positions album so much he created a stan twitter just to defend it against the haters.

zaros athat'lin ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

the rise and fall of a midwest princess - chappell roan . MEGAN - megan thee stallion . GUTS (spilled) - olivia rodrigo

was it casual when you fought my claim? he loves chappell roan and will definitely tell you he listened to her before she blew up which in his defense he did but he doesn’t need to keep telling people that. loves megan thee stallion her new album is what he listens too before he insults the fuck outta earis. loves the range of emotions he feels when listening to olivia rodrigo, i’m convinced he’s just a teenage girl.

luca pearce ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

songs - adrianne lenker . teenage dream - katy perry . MAP OF THE SOUL : PERSONA - bts

soft baby child loves soft songs that can put his ass to sleep in less than fifteen minutes. katy perry is his favorite, teenage dream got him through college and continues to make him romanticize the crap out of his relationship, as he should! he loves kpop, i just feel it in my bones that he loves persona and how happy the album is.

rowan ✧·˚ ༘ * ༄

favorite albums:

louder than bombs - the smiths . AM - arctic monkeys . the game - queen

he loves music that you could find in an old vinyl record store and these albums capture his taste perfectly in my opinion. a bit of indie here and alt rock there and you’ve got a rowan playlist that he will put on anytime he drives you anywhere.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

this is where i would put my glittery divider but i can’t add anymore photos lmao

.love always <3 pearl

.masterlist

[elleneedsleep]

To celebrate mother's arrival into Britain [🇬🇧 ☕️ 💂‍♀️], I present the Sakuverse stories as Taylor Swift lyrics:

Zaros & Earis — "you dream of my mouth before it called you a lying traitor"

Andrew & Darling — "in a world of boys, he's a gentleman"

Elias & Barista — "baby boy, I think I've been too good"

Xanthus & Love — "we keep quiet, 'cause we're dead if they knew

Niall & Sussybaka — "cause shade never made any body less gay"

Luca & Fiancé — "I like shiny things, but I'd marry you with paper rings"

Cevyk & Iqsus — "knew he was a killer first time that I saw him"

Asirel & Pet — "you did some bad things but I'm the worst of them"

Isaac & Pickle — "I've loved you three summers now, honey, but I want 'em all"

Dontis & Hunter — "you drew stars, around my scars, and now I'm bleeding"

Kayson & Prefect — "you got that long hair, slicked back, white T-shirt"

Jonah & Baby — "I'm drunk in the back of the car, and I cried like a baby coming home from the bar"

Alex & Gremlin — "so I'll watch your life in pictures like I used to watch you sleep"

[threadsun]

i'm sending this because i keep forgetting to and now i'm scared to send ideas now that i have a name blegh ＿|￣|○ anyway

how do you think the snaccpop guys would react to reader asking to be groped? if that's way too many guys that's understandable but also i've been really curious and tired lately {who could've guessed i've been sleeping all the time}

~ }i{

Ooooh okay I'm just gonna group them up because a lot of them are similar:

Very happily gropes you: Jack, Shaun, Nick

Shyly gropes you with encouragement: Ian, Taylor, Elias, Joseph

Already gropes you: Jean, Barry, Bo, Rory

[sunny-day-jack-official]

October Merchandise at Shark Robot!

With the turn of the season, we've got some more merchandise hitting our Shark Robot Catalogue~🍂 Posters and stickers, ahoy!

Each poster is available in four size options and printed on premium luster photo paper with archival quality inks:

$9.95 USD - 8" × 10" (20.32cm × 25.4cm)

$12.95 USD - 10" × 13" (25.4cm × 33.02cm)

$13.95 USD - 12" × 16" (30.48cm × 40.64cm)

$14.95 USD - 16" × 20" (40.64cm × 50.8cm)

Meanwhile, single die-cut sticker are sized 2.95" × 3.09" (7.493cm × 7.8486cm) and retail for $2.95 USD. The stickers will be on pre-order and ship towards the end of October.

Posters

Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack Promo (2023) 

Don't Take His Sunshine Away...

The 2023 promo poster for Something's Wrong With Sunny Day Jack has been updated to include the new logo, and is finally available for purchase! There really is something wrong going on here, but your favorite man would never want anything bad for you... right?

Employee of the Month, Every Month 

Welcome One, Welcome All, To Popov's Big Top Yoooooogurtopia~!

It's  everyone's favorite(?) boss from the very best(?) FroYo place in the whole wide world, Barry! It takes some real team effort to put a smile on every customer's face, and you can count on Barry to pull through! ... To call you in to cover for your coworker's missed shifts, that is. But hey, who could say no to this guy? (Don't actually answer that one.)

Stickers

Chibi Taylor 

Taylor Potts, President of the Occult History and Sciences Investigation Club (that's the OHSIC, and don't you forget it!), reporting for duty! This determined guy needs to find a ghost pronto, so of course he's  sending you to do his dirty work... W-wait, what do you mean that lead was real!?

Chibi Elias 

It's the groom of Gallagher Mansion himself! He's waited over 100 years for you to show up, and oh how delighted he is to see you~ Shall we have the wedding ceremony of the century?

---

All purchases of merchandise from our Shark Robot catalogue further supports our studio! You can view the full catalogue here at our vendor page.

[sparrowstarsandsorrow]

WELCOME TO THE UNDERWORLD (part 2)

[onedayillthinkofacreativeuser]

Chris and Elias in Platoon (1986). A yap

(Alternatively- The homoerotic relationship between Chris and Elias)

Apologies if this is a little hard to understand, and if the photos are difficult to read

Feel free to comment with your own opinions, ideas or theories on all this

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

So one of their earlier notable interactions is when Chris is shot and gets sent to hospital. (Which is not included in the movie) Lerner is there too but all he does is talk about his divorce

First he brings one of Chris’ book that he took when Chris was carrying way too much in the jungle walk (and fainting)

This scene in the movie is one of my favourite, not sure why. Elias basically offers to help him carry his stuff and pretty much makes an invitation for Chris to speak to him again and interact with him.

This is pretty easily readable as platonic, it’s a book, I think it’s a more personal gift though as he specifies it’s a book of Chris’ grandmother’s stories, but it’s never said if Elias knew this.

his other gift was one of Elias’ own purple hearts in a box, there’s a note addressed to Chris that says:

‘Taylor, take a close look at this thing. It's one of mine. Purple Hearts are made out of plastic, but they sure as hell ain't cheap! One is all you'll ever need.”

Again, this could be platonic depending on how you see it. But a war medal is a pretty big thing to gift someone platonically

____________________________________

Now, the underworld scene

First, it states Elias ‘leers’ at Chris. Typically, leering at someone is checking them out.

And after the leer, the shotgun scene commences. Chris thought that Elias wanted to shoot him (phrasing it “Blow him away” which is pretty funny to me)

Then he shotguns from Elias and it describes Chris feeling ‘a warm flush from his head to his armpits’, but I think that’s the weed

____________________________________

Next is one of my other favourite scenes. This is the ‘we’re gonna loose this war’ scene, but the novel has way more detail

So first off Elias grips his shoulders, keep in mind through this they’re both not high (from what I can tell with the context)

Then Chris notes a look in his eyes, describing it as ‘riveting yet demanding’ And ‘softened by a strange supplication’ Which I feel like is a very specific way to describe a man looking at you

[Supplication; the action of asking or begging for something earnestly or humbly.]

[Riveting; completely engrossing; compelling]

So they’re alone together in the middle of the night, and Elias is holding onto him and looking at him with a begging look. Riveting implies it’s compelling to Chris, which I took as Chris wanting to keep staring back.

Im not sure of ‘demanding’ but it feels in the same vain of ‘supplication’. A sort of plea?

Also mentioned is ‘There was an eerie flash in the man's eyes. It was deep .... back beyond the pupils where no one sees but anyone can feel.’

Which is just before the staring and after he grabs his shoulders, a flash of what is never mentioned, but I’m sure it means something

Then, Elias slowly moves his face closer and closer to Chris.

‘Chris froze and watched Elias's face as it moved slowly to within inches of his own. The move had been slow and determined, enlarging to fill his field of vision like a subject seen through a zoom lens.’

Which, is like something out of a romance movie. If Chris was a woman this would’ve been taken way different, when I read it I half expected them to kiss

‘He was reminded of the fierce glare Elias had used to halt Barnes in the ville.’

A fierce glare seems wrong for the situation. like Chris was mistaking some sort of intense stare for the angry glare he gave Barnes. This is backed up by the previous description of his staring, the ‘flash’ and the ‘supplication’

After that Elias says that ‘Maybe a piece of me's in you (Chris) now...’ and lets go of Chris who scoots back a bit. Then he smiles and decides he’ll come back as a deer (This is an important tool we’ll use later on)

Chris nods and ‘touched Elias lightly on the shoulder’ before getting up, but Elias grabs his hand’

It is never mentioned that Elias lets go of his hand

Again, if this was a woman and a man it’d be considered romantic. Chris mentions a shooting star

Then Elias tells him to go to sleep, and that’s the end of the charged scene

—

Now, the end of the book

It’s after the huge final battle, Barnes freaks out and loses it and Chris gets a bomb dropped on him.

He wakes up covered in alot of blood and sees this

‘a buck deer with mossy antlers and a snowy white bib tucked beneath his pointy chin. How could anyone with such soft, liquid eyes dispassionately rule the depths of hell? At the sound of roaring engines and creaking tracks, the deer lifted its ears, twitched its nose and bolted away into the brush. The animal moved with fluid grace, Chris noticed, as Elias had moved before Barnes killed him.’

First off, Chris describes the deer as lucifer. The devil, even though it’s implied to be Elias paying a visit.

Now if you really want to analyse it, I think you could look at it as Chris considering Elias a sin or something along those lines

‘How could anyone with such soft, liquid eyes dispassionately rule the depths of hell?’

Someone, not something like you would with an animal. Or, to me. ‘how could someone like Elias go to hell?’

With the context of the 60s/70s there’s a high chance he grew up religious, and especially being told homosexuality is a sin. But Elias showed up and apparently flipped it, he’s struggling with it. Elias gets killed and he thinks he’ll go to hell for his drug use or something along that line (and maybe his gay vibes idk) but then he thinks, how could someone as amazing as Elias go to an eternal fire pit, be tortured and all that.

It’s well known everyone loves Elias, he’s considered pretty friendly and all that. Not a stereotypical evil sinner

‘he decided the devil truly defied stereotype. Lucifer looked like a buck deer with mossy antlers and a snowy white bib tucked beneath his pointy chin.’

Now, this would seem like a pretty mystical sight. But Chris rejects it and decides that it’s the devil. Again, I’m not sure where I’m going here but it feels like it means something.

Then, the deer bolts. Just like how Elias ran from Barnes’ attack And Chris is rescued by the medical team or something of that sort (can’t remember the exact way they described them, but they help him)

And (a little after that) the movie ends.

Elias is long dead by then so we get nothing. Chris never sees his body or says goodbye to him, just a ‘I move faster alone’ (which, Chris doesn’t want to leave him alone. He wants to go with him, and he’s the one who wants to go back to get him or retrieve his body)

And he kills Barnes in revenge. He’d already fought him over it, he even wants to frag Barnes. Now we all know Barnes is a murderer and war criminal but ‘I’ll fight and eventually kill the much more experienced and stronger man for you’ seems like a lot. He could’ve reported Barnes and taken it through the court martialing (although that might not have worked) but he chose to revenge kill him.

for Elias.