#but now are EVIL if turned against him and his champions

[cienie-isengardu]

MK1's Lin Kuei

I’m trying to figure out something about the current Mortal Kombat, so bear with me here for a moment. Since the MK1 (2023) dropped, there is no doubt that Netherrealm Studio decided to make Lin Kuei the bad guys again, and between Lin Kuei brothers, Bi-Han got the short straw. He is the cold bastard while Kuai Liang the loyal supporter of Liu Kang. Only Tomas arguably could be said to be treated even worse than Bi-Han, as Sub-Zero at least gets his chapter and some focus, while Smoke is sidelined to the point Liu Kang doesn’t even once acknowledge him through story mode.

However, what intrigues me the most about the new version of Lin Kuei is… do the NRS have a fixed idea about the clan's nature or is it a flexible thing, depending on the needs of the storyline? Granted, the expansion story mode is still not released, so I’m basing my wondering mainly on Cyrax Gameplay Trailer here and her criticism about Lin Kuei under Sub-Zero (and Sektor)’s leadership. Those charges included an unseen attack from distance (to Sektor) and attacking Shirai Ryu at Kuai Liang’s wedding (to Sub-Zero)[1]. Cyrax even mentioned that “there are rules”, presumably rules in combat.

Now, Cyrax has a valid reason to question those tactics yet I wonder why the current timeline/characters put so much pressure on honor in regard to Lin Kuei in the first place, when the MK1 itself heavily implied this clan was not made for “honorable fight”.

Let me explain.

Mortal Kombat 1 established that:

Lin Kuei is a centuries old clan and its members were raised in secret to defend Earthrealm.

Members of said clan did not take part in Mortal Kombat, the official and honorable fight one on one - 10 000 years old Kitana asking Bi-Han about the reason for that is the best “evidence” Lin Kuei were excluded from Liu Kang’s Champion, as we can assume she witnessed many tournaments to attest that.

At the same time, Outworld’s prominent figures seem to be fully aware of Lin Kuei’s reputation and its role in protecting Earthrealm. So logically, if Lin Kuei was excluded from Mortal Kombat, those characters needed to either personally face Lin Kuei in battle/fight or heard about their skills.

Lin Kuei took part in battles against vampires and apparently tangled with Kenshi’s ancestors, suggesting Lin Kuei took part in both the external and internal affairs of Earthrealm without revealing themselves for centuries. Presumably on Liu Kang’s orders.

The latest game also gives us insight into Lin Kuei by showing us their missions. The first one was regulated by Liu Kang to test his Champions, thus Bi-Han, Kuai Liang and Tomas were forced to hold back. The second however presented the Lin Kuei infiltrating enemy’s hideout and none of brothers were bothered by attacking from behind (done by Sub-Zero who eliminated one of guards)

nor with killing defeated opponent (as would happen with Shang Tsung if General Shao and his men did now show up in time).

And here is the core of my problem. Why is Cyrax - a Lin Kuei herself - so angry and/or resentful about things that Lin Kuei was doing even as the good guys? Or why is everyone so set on “honor” and “honorable rules” if Lin Kuei weren’t made for that type of battles but to do the dirty job for Liu Kang and Earthrealm’s sake for centuries? Of course Bi-Han is prone to sneak attacks because this is how he was raised - to strike an enemy when the least expected, not to knock on the door and challenge to an honorable one on one duel (and he personally likes testing his skills against powerful opponents). Even Kuai Liang, the "good Lin Kuei" said in intro dialogues that stealth is the only tactic he needs[2].

It sucks that Bi-Han attacked his brother at the wedding and both Kuai Liang and Cyrax have a right to be angry about that, yet from a logical point, this is exactly the best moment to attack. When Bi-Han and Kuai Liang infiltrated the fortress, they did not challenge the sorcerers to fight until they were all alone in the same room. Until that moment, Lin Kuei Grandmaster and his younger brother were both fine to stay in their hidden spot, awaiting the right moment to strike. Same with killing the enemy from behind (guard) or defenseless opponent (as would happen with Shang Tsung). Kuai Liang and Tomas did not blink an eye when Bi-Han eliminated the guard. Scorpion did not protest when Sub-Zero was about to decapitate the unconscious sorcerer - even though Liu Kang told Lin Kuei to capture the man[3].

My point is, Cyrax’s criticism about ambush & sneak attack tactics feels a bit off, considering this is what Lin Kuei were doing as the good guys, presumably for centuries and with full approval of Liu Kang. Now, NRS claiming this is unhonorable and evil makes me wonder is this intentional choice on NRS’s part to bring an interesting nuance to the relationship between Lin Kuei and Liu Kang, or is it just the studio’s oversight and ignorance of their own lore? Because to me it feels ridiculous to establish Lin Kuei first as ninja clan (black ops) and then call them dishonorable for the same thing that benefited Liu Kang/Earthrealm before.

Granted, once the expansion story mode will drop, the fandom will be the most focused on the emotional impact of the conflict between brothers. I do, however, hope the game will include the reason for the flexible “morality” to which Lin Kuei is held.

SIDENOTES:

[1] Cyrax's criticism about attacking Kuai Liang during his wedding may not be about the method itself but the following consequence - not gaining the respect Lin Kuei wanted. So, does Cyrax cares about the sneak attack or more about Lin Kuei's reputation here? (Bi-Han's answer how it is better to be feared than respected also raises a question about NRS' choice, as Sub-Zero was estabilished in first game as someone wanting the recognization for his clan.)

[2] The full mentioned intro dialogue:

Shang Tsung: I could teach you the secrets of shapeshifting. Scorpion: Stealth is the only tactic I need.

[3] Considering Lin Kuei situation during the mission, I assume this is less about Sub-Zero ignoring Fire Lord’s orders and more about him understanding that leaving the fortress with Shang Tsung on his back may not be possible. Thus if he can’t capture the man, he decided to eliminate him for good.

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑 |

max verstappen x fem!reader

plot. when max visits years after your split, the strong facade you've worn crumbles at his fingertips

wc. 3.4k

warnings. smut 18+, angry n rough sex, p in v, degradation kink, reader cheats on her longterm boyfriend lol, oral sex (f!recieving), rough fingering (f!recieving), dry humping, name-calling, doggy + missionary style, dom!max and reader who thinks shes a dom, hairpulling, slight choking, and very angsty in some parts

Two seconds.

The amount of time it takes Max to grasp your door handle and trudge into the dimly lit apartment instead of patiently allowing you to let him in is two seconds. A fitted black suit adorns his body. His body, who glides assuredly into your humble kitchen. His eyes, who choose to ignore your irritated frame.

Then his lips. His big, red lips, who swallow the copious amount of popcorn that his hands were shovelling down his throat. His massive, veiny hands who used to intertwine perfectly in yours.

Him, Max. The figure leaning over your marble counters with slouched shoulders and forearms resting against the cool surface is Max. Two cups, he notices, stand side by side on the sink. A pink Stanley cup and a cheap protein shaker that isn't his.

Max’s fingers twitch.

From where you’re frozen by the door frame, only his side profile is visible. You curl your fists tight. Suddenly, wearing an oversized Metallica t-shirt and panties didn’t seem so comfortable.

“Max.”

Your eye twitches at the acknowledgement you receive. Or lack thereof. The recently crowned third-time world champion huffs at the bowl of popcorn in his hands before turning to open the fridge. He doesn’t look very satisfied. But then again, he never really was when it came to you, was he? 

The light of the furniture illuminates Max’s face rather annoyedly, contouring his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips like it had a point to prove. This is what you could’ve had, it taunted, if you hadn’t broken up.

Much louder and more irritated than before, you call out for him. And then, your eyes meet. You had spent the last few years meeting his gaze solely through the rectangular box in your living room; now, you pinch yourself in disbelief—anger, as well.

“What,” you stutter, and almost curse yourself when you catch a glimpse of his cocky smirk you remember all too well. “What are you doing here, Max?”

The fridge begins beeping loudly. Rolling his eyes, the Dutch slams it closed, slipping past you and into the living room. You follow him. The room is lit up by what feels like a thousand scented candles and it’s cold despite it.

The blond collapses on top of your couch, and the cushions pull him in like they missed him. It’s been so long, they think, and you feel better than the girl who’d been crying on us when you left.

“Where’s that guy?” Max asks bitterly, eyes stubborn on the television before him. “The one you posted yesterday at that restaurant.”

Max doesn’t follow you on any social media anymore, and an evil part of you feels content with the fact that he’d had to manually search your name to see that photo. Last night, Scotty had made a reservation at a fine, respectable Italian place to commemorate your one-year anniversary. 

You had a good time; Scotty would quip about everything and anything, and you would laugh exaggeratedly. You two were a great pairing, you think— hope, for the sake of your sanity.

You make yourself home in the space next to him, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging at your shirt to cover your bare legs. “You need to leave. Now, Max.”

A quiet ‘hm’ slips past his lips. But he’s still stuck on the couch, toeing out of his dress shoes and crossing his legs together like it was his home—but, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not while you are evidently a meaningless speck in his glorious life.

When Max turns to you, disgustingly pretty blue eyes and all, you succumb to the tight grasp he has on all of your logic. “Business trip. Milan.”

An empty chuckle raises the tiny hairs on your arm and echoes across the room. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his eyes refuse to leave yours. He brings a cold hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; his fingertips leave burn marks against your cheek.

“You don’t even like Italian food,” he continues, because does he ever really know how to stop? “Does he even know you?”

And that. It shouldn’t have made you as frustrated as it did, not when you had gotten over Max. Totally. Completely. Utterly. “What, like you did? Max, you wouldn’t even give a fuck to remember our anniversary!”

The sarcastic glint in his eyes turns sour. “I had to race—Fuck! y/n, I was leading the championship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, Max, how could I forget? Red bull this, Red bull fucking that,” you seethe through gritted teeth, face inching closer to him and squinting eyes shining predatorily. “It’s been two years, Max, two years since you broke up with me. So, congrats. You got what you wanted—a trophy and a name under your belt. Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”

Max’s breath hitches, but your uncontrolled panting inhales enough air for the both of you. Then, his hand wraps around the side of your neck, not squeezing, but it’s there. It’s warm, and it feels painfully refreshing against your skin, and your protests die in your throat.

The Dutch whispers an octave lower, and only then, when his minty breath tickles your cheekbones, do you perceive your proximity, “Because I think if you really wanted me gone, I would be by now.”

And, well. He might as well be ripping open your ribcage and twisting your heart until it breaks in half, crimson blood making a mess of the carpeted floor. 

You’re left speechless under his gaze because as much as you try to deny, you know it’s true. Max would leave as fast as he did two years ago if there was even a hint of honesty in your words.

“And you know what else I think?” Max takes your silence as encouragement to continue. “I think he doesn’t fuck you well enough if you’re this desperate for it.”

Somehow, you muster up enough irritation to murmur, “I—m’not desperate.”

“No?” he taunts, extending his thumb to the underside of your chin and tilting it upward. “Why haven’t you properly kicked me out, then?”

You rack your mind for a response, a reaction—fucking anything to prove you aren’t wishing he’d just inch a bit closer to close the gap between you. 

“I . . . I hate you, Jesus Christ,” you curse defeatedly, craning your neck upward and frantically meeting his stupidly large lips.

The kiss isn’t slow or loving; it’s wet and filthy and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a lingering taste of honey on his tongue when he brushes it between your parted lips, and you can’t help but pull him in deeper for more. 

The hand on your neck tightens significantly, Max’s breath tickling your upper lip as the other seizes around your under thigh and swiftly pulls you onto his lap.

A gasp flows out of your mouth and he greedily swallows it. You want to skin him alive when you feel him grin arrogantly, but then he presses a hand on your ass and lowers you flush against him—Him, and the massive bulge straining his black trousers—and the thoughts spill right out of your head into a gooey puddle beside your feet.

“I hate y— oh,” your murmur morphs into a shaky gasp when he rips his lips away from yours and attacks the canvas of your neck; you say those three words like you could them words into existence. 

And I hate that I still want you so fucking bad; those eleven words are left unsaid like you expect him to read your mind. But Max couldn’t two years ago, and you know he can’t now.

Your hands glide over his muscular frame, relearning the sharp edges and smooth skin of his body and you moan breathily when Max sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear. “Y’might hate me, baby, but your pussy doesn’t. Fuck, she’s dripping all ov’me.”

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips. He’s not wrong— you could feel your slick coating your panties and rubbing against Max’s pants. You were usually one to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. Need him the same you did the first time you met, both young and inexperienced. Maybe more.

Probably more.

But he isn’t doing anything to relieve the ache between your thighs, so. Before you take matters into your own hands and grind your pussy against his covered dick, Max’s hands cup the mounds of your ass and lift you sideways to splay your body on the couch.

“Max,” you say like the breaths have been knocked out of your poor lungs, but it might not be so far from the truth.

Max positions himself in between your legs, hips and thick thighs parting them wide, and the itchy fabric against your naked skin spins your head in dizzying circles. You could fucking see the damp patch your slick left on his crotch. Your hips buck into the air; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

His dishevelled hair lay atop his head and you want to pull. His flush trails down his neck and you want to bite and kiss and mark it till pretty bruises litter his soft skin. Your hands and lips stay pliant under his body instead.

“Y’d only get this wet f’me, though, hm?” he groans when his fingers push your skimpy underwear to the side, unblinking like the sight of your glistening folds would disappear if he looked away.

I’m always like this for you, you feel the need to reassure, even when you aren’t here—especially when you aren’t here. But your blood still boils at his stupid hair and stupid smirk, so. He’s met with silence.

Growing impatient, Max slaps at your swollen clit, humming satisfactorily at the loud gasp you let out. He grazes his digits past the bundle of nerves, and your incessant need to murder him and fuck him till he realized he’d made a mistake letting you go only intensify.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will leave you like this, shatje,” he ends up growling lowly, thick fingers hovering over your hole. “And then it’s your boyfriend’s problem.”

“Max, fuck off–”

The warm body abruptly stands up, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this cold. But the empty sensation doesn’t last long, anyway. Max barely has any time to walk away before your fingers latch onto his forearm tightly.

You splutter, “M-Max wait, wait.”

When he tilts his head down to meet your eyes with a raised brow, you have no recollection of what you'd even wanted to say. 

“Please…please, just fucking help me.”

And apparently, that's all Max needs because his hands are immediately tugging your shirt off, lips trailing hot kisses in the divot of your tits. Your lips part around a moan when he purses his lips around your hard nipple, stomach stirring uncomfortably with need. His mouth leaves marks like cigarette burns in its wake; it stings against the wounds that have already healed years ago.

The Dutch doesn’t leave you much to dwell on before he lays between your thighs again, trails his hand across your body till his fingers nudge at your lips, and shoves his index and middle finger inside the wetness of your mouth. if you were slightly more desperate, you would've whimpered at the pleasent pressure on your tongue.

If.

“Fuck, lieverd,” Max exhales when you suck your cheeks in, wet muscle darting over and between his digits— wide, innocent eyes and all. “Can he get you like this? Fucking dripping and desperate for dick?”

You shake your head frantically because it’s true. Because he couldn’t, not like Max can. Satisfied, Max only presses against your throat slightly to watch you gag around him. He brings his hand back down to the space between your legs agonizingly slow and alas, pushes them both in like he’s in a rush.

“Max! Oh, oh m’God, fuck,” you gasp, the twinge of pain is quickly overshadowed by the hot pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.

Your hips involountarily buck upwards into the fullness, but Max flattens his palm on your lower stomach to shove you down. Eyes rolling back and threading your fingers through his hair before tugging his insatiable mouth on your pussy.

“He doesn’t,” Max cuts himself off with a groan when his tongue flicks at your clit, familiar tasting slick pooling on his taste buds. “He doesn’t know you like I do, can’t make you cum as hard as I do, can he?”

He doesn’t expect a response; it isn’t even a question, as well as you’re aware. Max knows he’s the only person who can have you writhing and moaning on his fingers, cock, tongue— all three, one night.

And he’s right. But. Max’s control of the situation makes you feel queasy, so.

“No– ohh, fuckfuckfuck,” you moan, high and needy, when Max curls his fingers upwards, like a reward for agreeing with him. “He–, he fucks me better.”

From under you, Max’s face visibly dims, but you aren’t able to bask in the satisfaction it gives you before he drags his thick digits out of you—your hole clenching in protest, crying out at the emptiness when it fails to keep them inside—hooks his hands into the small of your waist, and your ass meets the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck–”

Your breath hitches when he flips you over on your elbows and knees. Back arched almost uncomfortably, furrowed brows with Max’s bruising hands on your hips to lift your ass further in the air. 

When Scotty slips into bed tomorrow morning, you hope he’ll see the ugly hues of blue and green on your tainted body and leave soundlessly.

Shaking your head at the intrusive thought, you curse internally. Scotty’s nice, and you don’t deserve him. Not when you’re willingly presenting yourself to Max, the folds of your pussy connected by the lewd lines of his spit and your slick.

"Y’wanna act like a whore?" Max whispers hotly from behind you– his breath tickles your ear and his hands rise to your hair, gather your locks into a makeshift ponytail, and tug it forcefully to tilt your head back, making you wince. "I'll fucking treat you like one."

A string of your desperate whines fills Max’s ears like a symphony, and he groans with you when you begin to grind your ass backwards against his dick. His dick. Fuck, Max needs it wrapped around your tight walls, milking him for all he has; needs to watch you writhe on his cock like it was what you were made for.

“I hate you,” you repeat, much more breathless than the other times you said it, and Max has the audacity to laugh.

Though, you guess it has more to do with the fact that all the while you were saying those three words, you were still needily humping your ass against his covered dick.

You still are, and it’s driving him fucking insane. Max curses when he realizes he’s still trapped by the confines of his pants. Whoever thought wearing clothes was a good idea?

Clumsily and with only one hand whilst the other grips your hair, he fumbles out of his suit. And Max throws the articles of clothing mindlessly—on the couch, on the floor. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t fucking care. 

A relieved sigh fills the room as the cool air wraps around his painfully hard cock. Your breath hitches when you feel the thick tip graze your pussy. His hand hastily grips at his base, aligns it to your folds, and coating it in your slick as he strokes it once, twice.

“Ah! Max, holy shit,” you blabber when his cock nudges against your swollen clit, and finally, thrusts his hips forward, the tip fitting snugly against your walls. “Oh, oh, fuck, moremoremore, please.”

And Max. Well, Max is doomed.

“Fuck, liefje, your pussy missed me so fucking bad, I know, I know,” Max coos when your hole clenches around him greedily, and spreads your cheeks with one hand, gazing obscenely at the sight of you sucking more and more of him inside.

The familiar stretch burns and yet your hips push back against his cock— three words ringing in your otherwise empty mind: full, full, fuller. Max’s hips stutter as he meets your movements halfway, fucking his stupidly massive cock into your wetness and tightening his hold on your hair.

You wish you could say you hate the pain as much as you hate him.

“Max, Max, Max,” you urge him as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you don’t really know what for; your neediness took over your senses the moment Max kissed you.

But Max, he’d already memorized all of it— all your tells, those things that pushed you over the edge—, protected them inside a dust-covered chest buried in his mind. It was no surprise he knew what to do with you now, filling you to the brim and pounding into you ruthlessly.

“Yes! Yes! Mm fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you sob happily, and Max wouldn’t fucking dare.

The man behind you tugs you upright with the hand on your hair, his chest flush heatedly against your back and tilting your head to pounce at your neck.

“Tell me,” Max growls slowly, slowing his assaults on your wet pussy, and now, you’re almost sure that your hate is reciprocated. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”

A loud yelp leaves your lips when he slaps your clit again, and a slight gush of slick slides down your walls, dripping lewdly onto his balls. Your hand reaches up to grip his hair and pulls his pillowy lips back onto your neck; tears brim at your waterline. You aren’t sure if it’s because of how badly you want to cum or miss him— you blink.

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be possible because. Because you don’t miss him.

“He’s nothing, Max, nothing compares to you,” you cry out, and Max falters.

Then, he pulls out.

“Huh? Wha…” You inhale sharply, feeling so stupidly empty.

Before you dig a hole for you and your pussy to crawl in and die, Max is swiftly turning you over by your hips and engulfing his dick in your walls again. Your mouth falls open again; Max takes it as an opportunity to press his lips against yours.

Your hands cradle his face and kiss him back gently like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Like he isn’t projecting his pent up frustration for the last two years onto your wet, tight pussy. A muffled cry escapes your mouth when Max thrusts into you with newfound fervor.

His lips detach from yours, burrying his forehead into the crook of your neck to, hopefully, muffle his groans. “Max– ah! Oh m’God, I’m so close, please just.”

Max nods, wild and frantic and horny, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. He tweaks, pinches, and rubs at your clit until you let out a shriek and your thighs close instinctively around him.

He bottoms out, grinding helplessly inside the heat of your pussy. “Cum f’me, shatje, wanna feel you cum on m’cock. Fucking cum.”

And, well, if you were even the slightest bit good at denying Max, you wouldn’t even be in this position. So. You arch your back off the ground with a high, loud moan and savour the white specs in your vision that only Max seems to bring out of you.

He fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with short, wild thrusts. “Ah, fuckkk, if only y’were as good as y’pussy is to me, liefje, y’d be getting m’cock like this every fucking night— Fuck!”

Beads of Max’s thick cum fill you to the brim with a loud groan and a long string of curses, tainting your insides a heavenly white. His hips stutter when you clench around him, milking him for all he has just like he’d wanted. And, when Max pulls out with a shaky gasp, he takes another piece of your heart with him.

Maybe, if you make this same mistake enough, he’d realize he has your heart already, full and pieced together.

But Max was never one to take a hint, never one to read your mind, so you settle for the parts of him you can have once in a blue moon; you settle for him picking you up, carrying you to your bedroom, cleaning the mess between your legs, and pulling the covers above your naked frame; you settle for the scowl on his face when he notices the polaroid of you and Scotty on your bedside table.

“I hate y—”

Max leaves the room before you can finish your sentence. 

He knows.

authors notes dedicating this to @enchantecafe + @scuderiahoney bcs they were hor knee for max on this poll (me too) i hope you guys like it and thank you to @cafekitsune for the dividers once again xx

i feel like this isn't my best work but i'll post it anyway because i spent a lot of time on it and yolo. also i think i fried my brain with it.

also, writing this fic made me realize idfk how to write angry sex it just ends up being angsty so. i think at times theyre angry but as they go on, some of that tension dissipitates and they both realize they want but cant have each other. tried my best tho!! xx

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🐢

taglist in separate posts bcs tumblr chooses to be annoying <33

p.s reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💚💚

[foone]

So here's how the story goes. Four young adults are teleported away from 1940s earth, where it turns out they're the last descendants of the great sages who defeated evil all those years ago, but with his last breath banished the sages to earth. Now, 200 years later, evil has risen again: a vile sorcerer has raised an army and is threatening the peaceful kingdoms of a fantasy world, and only the Divine Bloodline can weild the Weapons of Light and defeat the rampaging hordes. The heroes take up their weapons and fight the good fight, leading the armies of man and elf and dwarf and beast against the evil orcs, who are vaporized by their touch. They cut a path through the horde and defeat evil's greatest champions, who were guarding the Gem of Control, an ancient artifact that gave the terrible wizard control over the orcish population. Just as one of them swings their hammer to shatter it, the wizard intervenes, and uses the last bit of his control to destroy his army, lest they join you in their freed state. As the pieces of the gem hit the floor, already losing their sickly green glow, they see the attacking orcs fade into mist. They'd killed hundreds in your crusade, sure, but he just killed all of them. They later learn, against all fervent hopes, that this extended to the orcish homelands. Men, women, and children, cooking in their homes, planting the crops, raising brutecows and hunting in the dark forests... All gone in an instant. The scouts report a silent land with tools lying in workshops, food left uneaten at dining tables, and bursting into tears at entering a house to find it was a schoolhouse: Quills lying in all the seats, with rough parchment next to it showing the first few letters of the orcish alphabet.

They redouble their efforts, now fueled with genuine hatred for the evil sorcerer. He shifts his tactics, relying on darker magics to summon undead minions, which don't need the Gem of Control. They don't go poof when a holy weapon touches them, but are still no match for the divine warriors. With a skeleton the size of a zeppelin smashing down towers around them, the warriors reach the wizard and drive a broadsword of light through his chest. The skeletons collapse back into their eternal slumber in little piles on the floor.

The warriors put aside their weapons as they're received with great cheer. They're invited to join the royal families of the four kingdoms, marrying into the human, elf, dwarf, and beast royalty. They spend the rest of their long reign ensuring peace returns, monuments are made for the fallen orc nation, and the remaining undead who fled are not allowed to prey on the peasants, only taking up arms again to fight a den of vampires left behind.

In their old age, the wizard who brought them here reappears. It's taken him decades to develop the right magics, but he can finally send them home. They abdicate, letting their hybrid offspring take control, certain in their ability to run a kingdom with wisdom and justice. They leave behind their holy weapons, in case evil rises again. The wizard warns them that much may have changed in the world they left, as 80 years has passed there while it was only 40 for them, but they still want to see if London still stands and if their families or their descendants are alive.

They appear in the modern day, 2024. They're amazed at the technological progress, of course, but then there's a bigger shock. This isn't just an isekai story: this is a reverse-isekai story.

The holy weapons were forged using the same magics that brought them to the fantasy world in the first place. When they vaporized orcs, they didn't die, they were teleported. Teleported here. Every mind-controlled orc warrior that tasted their blade woke up uninjured... in Portsmouth.

And when the sorcerer tried to wipe them all out as the Gem of Control shattered, all he did was transfer that magic to every one of them. None of them died, except for a few elderly orcs who dropped dead from shock at ending up in England, Earth, 1943.

It's now 2024. The Orc population of London is 3 million. There's twelve orcs in parliament, and another in the house of lords. The world has changed a lot since they left, for the better, the weirder, and the greener.

[sugar--brown]

A bit of fluff

Because we need more fluff to balance all the angst people are creating with the cat!Martin AU by @ultramarinaa

I'm preparing a proper big fic, but meanwhile I made this.

What were the chances to read a book made of only two pages and turning into a cat because of it only a few months after your promotion?

Not much. Martin was sure of that. As sure as the fact, he was in deeeep troubles. What would his boss say?! Turning into a cat should be pretty high on the scale of being unprofessional. Especially after introducing himself as the incompetent fool who let dogs run free in the archives! Jon will be so disappointed and annoyed! He was toasted!

Maybe... Maybe he could fix this? Maybe if he could read the book backward…?

Martin took a tentative step forward and immediately face-planted on the floor. Right. Four legs instead of two. That was great.

He meowed - gosh! he meowed! - pathetically before standing up, ready to make another attempt. But this time, everything was blurry.

… why was everything blurry?

Oh. His glasses. Right. Face-planting on the floor meant losing your glasses. Strange thing that his clothes disappeared with his body, while his glasses stayed the same…

Ah. Great. He couldn't put them back on. Because he was a cat. Without hands. Just very big and soft paws.

He really needed to fix this before anyone sees him!

Staggering a little, Martin began to walk cautiously toward the evil book. He was scared - heck! even terrified - of it. But what could it do more? Turning him into another type of cat?

With apprehension, Martin used his front right par to hit the book quickly. Nothing happened. Ready to bolt backward, he very slowly peaked at the fourth cover.

A wonderful fairytale where only the purrest love can help the hero to save the damsel.

Ah. Ah. Ah. Very funny.

Annoyed, Martin hit the book so hard that it flew away, landing between cardboard boxes full of statements. Great! He was already sick of it!

Two hands grabbed him and lifted him up.

“Hello!” cooed the stranger who just grabbed him without any warning.

Martin meowed and hissed in panic, squirming with all his might. But the stranger hugged him against their chest and started scratching him behind the ears. Oooooooh that was good…

“There, there, it's okay now. You are safe. I don't know how you got here, but I promise I won't hurt you.”

Wait. That voice… was it…?!

“I'm Jonathan, what's your name?”

Martin's eyes grew wide in shock. That was Jon! His boss! His prickly, cold-hearted, boss! And he was cooing at him like he was the cutest thing in the world.

Oh gosh… he was in deep troubles.

“Hey bossman! Did you find Martin? He was supposed to-... is that a cat?”

Tim appeared around the corner, clearly amused by the scene. Jon immediately stopped cooing and scratching Martin's ears, becoming all tenser and professional.

“Ah. Yes, it is… it is a cat. I caught it before it can do any damages.”

Hey! Martin wouldn’t have done any damages! He knew he wasn't the most graceful person, but he wasn't that clumsy. …right?

“What are you all doing back there? Oh! That's a very cute cat, Jon.”

And here was Sasha. Each second was more humiliating than the last. Martin really wanted to run and hide somewhere dark, tiny and safe right now.

“Do you know where it comes from?” asked Sasha, getting closer to inspect Martin.

“No, I just heard him. He doesn't have any tattoos or tag on him.” answered Jon, putting unconsciously a possessive hand on Martin's back. “I have not the faintest idea how he arrived here.”

“Ha! You know cats, boss, they are real champions when they want something!” laughed Tim.

“Champion… that's a good name.”

“Wow! You are already naming him? You move fast!” teased Tim with a smirk.

“We can't keep him, he may have an owner already.” added Sasha, more pragmatic.

“W-well… We can't call him ‘the cat’, that would be properly ridiculous.”

If Martin didn't know better, he would have thought Jon was embarrassed. But he couldn't, he was never embarrassed. On the other hand, he hadn’t reacted like this with the dog so…

While he was lost in his thoughts about his ridiculously cute boss, the group had moved on back to the break room.

Wait. What about the book?! And his glasses?!

Martin was almost able to escape, but Jon's soft hands captured him over his shoulder at the last second. But that didn't stop him to agitated his fluffy paws with a few panicked meows.

“What's wrong, Champion?” asked Jon, looking back with surprise. “Oh, good spot! There are glasses on the floor.”

Martin had half a hope to see Jon putting his glasses on his nose so he could see, but of course, he didn't. Instead, he inspected them before putting them in his pocket with a disgusted face.

“Aren't they Martin's?” asked Tim with curiosity.

“Yes.” groaned Jon. “He must have lost them while clumsily searching for a statement. I still don't understand why he had been assigned here. He clearly didn't have the competences to-... hey!”

Martin had escaped Jon's grasp with a hiss. He knew he wasn't good at his job, but that didn't mean he wanted to hear it!

Before Jon could grab him again, Martin flew under a shelf, deep enough so he couldn't be grabbed. He heard the others shout in surprise and agitation, but he was too agitated to pay attention.

He vaguely heard Tim saying to “cut him some slack” and Sasha guessing that “champion surely needs space”. And Martin decided to do just that. He would stay here until everyone was gone, and then he would find the book to turn himself back.

Hours went by. And Martin must have snooze at some point because when he focused again, everything was calm and quiet. Tentatively, he came out.

Nothing to worry about. The lights were off and Tim and Sasha weren't here any more. So, he walked as silently as possible to where he had launched the book.

Until he heard a groan.

Martin froze. And slowly, oh so slowly, turned his head. 

Jon was still here. In fact, Jon was so focused on his work he hadn’t noticed Martin. So he could have continued, but… something was off. Jon didn't look… healthy. Or at least less than usual.

He seemed barely able to not passed out. He was pale, sweaty and his eyes were unfocused.

… when was the last time had Jon eaten? They didn't see him going out of his office at lunch…

With a sigh, Martin shook his head and walked to the break room's fridge. To be fair, he was a bit hungry himself. And he knew his fish salade was in here. He always brought double portions in case someone forgot their lunch.

It took a lot of time and effort, but Martin was able to open the fridge and to drag the dish to Jon's office.

“Champion? You're out? What are you… oh.”

Jon stood up quickly, too quickly because he needed a few second to make the world stopped spinning. Then, he knelt in front of Martin.

“Where did you… oh, you must be hungry. Right. Sorry… I'm a bit rusty at taking care of a cat. You are really smart, you know? Stealing Martin's food… I'm sure he wouldn’t mind, since he left work early to go find a replacement for his glasses.”

Martin huffed in annoyance. Why did Jon was so… harsh? Sure, he was a fool but still…

“Yeah, yeah, sorry. Let me open this.”

That what he did, but he didn't eat. Maybe he needed some encouragements? Martin his best imitation of pleading kitty eyes while hitting softly the salad.

“You… want to share?”

Jon visibly melted, almost like he was ready to cry. But instead, he just sat on the floor and began eating the veggies while giving the sardines to Martin.

They shared in silence. But it was the best interaction Martin had Jon since… since ever! So he wouldn’t complain.

When they finished, Jon suddenly bent down and gently hugged Martin, bumping his head with his.

“Thank you…” he whispered in a broken voice.

And the genuine, honest, sweet, smile of Jon made Martin think that everything wasn't so terrible.

[galedekarios]

gale's evil ending: devnotes

this post will take a closer look at the devnotes for gale's evil ending. they aren't that revealing, most of it is exactly what is shown in the cinematic that goes along with it, but they do have some interesting tidbits.

synopsis

Avatar Gale has delcared his intention to destroy all gods. Using the token of Mystra he still has (her earring) he casts a spell upon the city of Baldur's Gate, 'awakening' them and inciting them to rid the city of religious worship. He opens a rift to the heavens and sets off to destroy the rest of the pantheon with his army of nautiloids in tow.

dialogue + devnotes

Narrator: *They bow before you, prayers and pleas mingling into a single, submissive drone. But you are not here to yoke them - you come to set them free.* devnote: Gale turns his back on the awestruck, kneeling crowd and spreads his arms wide, dark energy crackling around him as he begins to float upwards. Narrator: *The Absolute lies broken at your feet. The first god to fall - but not, perhaps, the last.* devnote: Short from behind Gale's back, upwards at the heavens. With a gesture, Gale splits the dark skies, opening a rift through which brilliant, otherworldly light spills. [TagCinematic]  devnote: As Gale ascends, he lifts a hand to his head. CLOSE UP as, almost idly, he carresses the earring gifted to him by Mystra - then unclasps it, allowing it to fall behind him as he rises with a fleet of nautiloids lining the way before him. [TagCinematic]  devnote: CLOSE-UP as we stay with the earring, tracing its path downwards as it begins to break up, fragmenting into streamers of blue Mystran magic. Almost gently, they descend upon the watching crowds. As the spell settles on them, they rise to their feet, and begin to riot. The streets roil with anarchy as the enraged mob tears down the tokens of the old religions - statues, clerics, and temples. [TagCinematic]  devnote: A single magial streamer (spelling?) settles on a statue of Mystra, facing gazing upwards, and runs down her cheek like a single tear - before the statue is torn down and broken upon the cobbles. Narrator: *The heavens are waiting. And you have work to do.* devnote: Final shot of the wide split in the heaves, a fleet of nautiloids preparing to pass through.

i found the devnotes interesting in so far as they confirm a few things i had been wondering:

the earring was indeed a gift from mystra to her newest chosen (it was touched on in an item description in idle champions as well, but i wasn't sure how trustworthy that information was)

The Chosen's Earring A symbol of Mystra's faith in me. Former faith, I suppose...

2. the earring was likely, in addition to being a symbol bestowed upon him by mystra, gale's spellcasting focus:

An arcane focus is a special item designed to channel the power of arcane spells. A sorcerer, warlock, or wizard can use such an item as a spellcasting focus.

they used to be relegated to being a hand-held object like a wand, staff, orb, or something of that nature, but the rules have been a bit more lax now and we do know that larian bends the lore (and sometimes breaks it) in bg3 as well. a chosen should not need one either, then again mystra did withdraw her favour.

either way, it makes sense why he would discard it in his evil ending, both as a statement for his newest goal (destroying the entire pantheon), as well as him no longer being in need of such a token, now instead using it and the magic it's imbued with to incite the people of baldur's gate to rally against the "old" gods.

[adrift-in-thyme]

And so it begins >:) I'm super excited for a month full of whump!! I hope you all enjoy reading these fics as much as I've enjoyed writing them. Now, whumptober day 1 LET'S GOOOO

Whumptober Day 1: Race Against The Clock

Read it on Ao3

- Warriors & Wild

- Summary: When Wild gets poisoned, it's up to Warriors to get him to safety

CW for blood and injury, poisoning, near-death experience

----------------------------------

Warriors runs and does not stop.

His scarf flies out behind him, its flight a thing of fragile elegance. His boots collide with the earth so harshly puffs of dust rises with each step. His breathing is short, quick; his mouth dry, saliva thick. 

Keep going.

It is the only order he has. And it is an order that rises from the depths of his own mind. 

Keep going until you reach the fountain. 

In his arms, tucked close, lies Wild. Draped in an awkward bridal hold, his legs and arms flap limply with the movement, like damp clothes hung on a line to be tossed by the wind. His breaths are an unending rasp of thin, courageous gasps. Blood deepens the tranquil blue of his tunic into a somber maroon and drains past his lips in a line of faintly bubbling gore. 

He coughs. More life flees in a murmur.

This time, the persevering rises and falls of his chest nearly ceases with it.

“Stay with me, champion,” he orders through gritted teeth and the taste of sweat. 

“No problem,” the boy had chirped mere moments before. He had stood with an arrow in his breast, dripping emerald, he had stood bloodied and beaten…and he had grinned. 

“Takes more than this to kill me.”

And therein lies the heart of the hero’s sentiment. Warriors has certainly thought the same phrase many times himself.

The idea that you are stronger than evil, stronger than fate — it is one you must hold to if you mean to survive. The thing about heroes is, they always mean to survive. 

Pride is necessary. Pride does not change a single thing.

Blue eyes turned milky blink up at him. Cracked, crimson-dampened lips part with a sigh.

“I’s okay Wars. ‘M fine.” His voice cracks, a structure of crumbling stone. His head lolls sideways, bumping against Warriors’ chest. 

“I know...”

He is not. Not in any way.

Warriors knows little about the various poisons that exist within this darkness-entrenched world. He should, what with the sheer amount that have been sent his way. But even Impa’s knowledge and Zelda’s wisdom cannot comprehend them all. Like the cursed stalfos in Wild’s Hyrule, they lurk, waiting, watching until the right moment to leap. 

Whoever they hit is left floundering. That much is so certain that it aches. 

Warriors pauses. His chest heaves with quick, thin, burning gasps. There is a crossroads before him. He examines the two worn signs, like human arms, each gesturing in a new direction. He has little clue as to which leads to a fairy fountain. But the one claiming to take him to Kakariko seems the more promising choice of the two. If, goddess forbid, his gamble fails to pay off then at the very least they will be in a town, amongst people. Perhaps, someone will have medicine or know magic. 

He bows his head. As long as he can make it, there is hope.

He wishes, not for the first time, that he had Epona. 

A roar shatters what stillness there had been. Out of the cover of the overgrown grass leaps a bokoblin. Its muscled body gleams silver and violet. An enormous club rests in the beast’s clawed grip, its surface roughly hewn.

Cursing himself for his inattention, Warriors lunges sideways. The bokoblin brings its weapon hurtling through the air with such force that it lifts his hair, makes his scalp prickle. He drops into a battle stance, plants his feet, clumsily maneuvers Wild into the hold of his nondominant hand. His sword sings as he lifts it from its sheath.

Two more beasts fly forth as though conjured by dark magic, one black, the other that cursed hue verging on white. 

The first lunges once more and the others join him. But this time Warriors is ready. He brings his sword up in front of him, angled horizontal. Stealing his will, he pushes himself into a vicious whirl. The world blurs. The wind whistles in his ears, joining the beat of his heart. The monsters cry out and fall.

Warriors comes to a stop, breathing hard more from the panic he must fight down than from physical exertion. Wild moans, protesting the jostling, and he murmurs an apology. There is no time to stop, however. Hefting the champion into a firm grasp once more, he races forward. 

“Almost there,” he murmurs. “We’re almost there, Wild.”

Under other, better circumstances, he would try to get him to talk. He would pry about his Hyrule or Flora or his favorite weapons. He would tease and chatter, keep the conversation going all while his mind worked towards a strategy, a remedy. 

But Wild is too far gone for that. 

The time for words is over.

…

His chest has ceased its valiant movements almost completely by the time Warriors bursts into the town with all the grace of a raging moblin. Every breath stutters out of him. Blood and bile bubble from his lips. His eyes are murky slits of dim white, his brow creased and studded with sweat.

We’re running out of time.

“Fountain!” Warriors gasps to the first person he sees — a middle-aged man with his gray tipped white hair pulled upwards in a high ponytail. “Is there a fairy fountain nearby? Please, it is urgent!”

The man’s eyes widen, mouth working to form words. He points up at a hill rising steeply nearby.

“I-in the woods! The Great Fairy, she resides there!” 

Warriors turns on his heel, nods his thanks. 

“Link…will he be alright?” The man calls as he runs.

“He will!” He faces forward, grits his teeth, forces himself to believe the words that fly forth from his lips.

“He’ll survive this, just as he has everything else.”

…

It happens all in a blur. He locates the fairy with relative ease, watches with trepidation as she springs forth from her bud, holds Wild as magic swirls around them. 

Magic, thank the goddesses above, offered without a cost.

“This little one has paid for this,” the fairy says, painted lips lifting in a soft smile that Warriors is surprised to see. “He has more than paid for it.”

And so, Warriors is free, unhindered by boundaries of suffocating glass, when Wild blinks open his eyes. It takes them a moment to focus, but as soon as they do, they land with gentle focus upon his face. Wild’s expression morphs into a fatigued grin.

“Hey, Wars,” he murmurs, drowsy and weak. “Told ya it would take more than that.”

Warriors laughs. Even as the fear breaks its leaden walls and tears gush past the crumbling ramparts, he laughs. 

[sugar-grigri]

2. Protest: between the author's cynicism and the antagonist's emergence

Fujimoto once again tests you as a reader

Why? Because this chapter requires you to pay as much attention to the foreground as to the background

Yes, hello headache, but now I need you to follow me…….

First of all, I see it as cynicism. The only thing that would make me laugh is if I thought Fujimoto was teasing us.

How and why? Because the church in Chainsaw Man is us. Victims of CSM (who belong to the work), and young people, students who don't always have the right to vote, who come out of curiosity (the fans) fighting bloody battles against the communities.

Come on, Fujimoto follows the networks

Like his OS, but especially Just listen to the song, it's about the relationship between a work, its author and its audience.

I think Fujimoto relishes the debates and arguments on Twitter and other networks.

Fujimoto follows them as much as he suffers them, acclaimed by critics and his own, adored by his fans, he is also the target of threats and hatred.

Whether it's from those who hate his work or those who adore it but can't forgive him for making them suffer.

Fujimoto is as much a figure of protest as Chainsaw Man.

And he's there in the shadows like Denji

But it's not just a wink, and then we get more serious

The protest in the background is just as important as the foreground

Denji and Yoshida are shown as much as the crowd, with the cut-out swapping places between background and foreground. As if Fujimoto were placing them in the same position of importance.

Why ?

First of all, this chapter proves that NO, Yoshida is not up to the task of being the antagonist

who could be the antagonist then?

Where ? Who ? We're a bit confused... well yeah, it was easy to understand that Makima was the antagonist

Not only do we kind of forget that it wasn't that easy to know she was the antagonist, the revelation that she was a demon came very, very late, as did what she was really capable of doing

In CSM the real antagonist is present from the start, and then appears more clearly

Fujimoto likes to use this process to make his work chilling, to encourage you to reread while seeing the chapters take shape under a different light.

SO WHO'S THE ANTAGONIST?

Chainsaw man himself or, (confirming my theory again), Fake! ChainsawMan

To put it simply, since part 2, Fujimoto has shown that Chainsaw Man is controversial, both adored and feared.

This fear would naturally give rise to a Fake!Chainsaw Man demon, whose aim would be to increase its power by maximizing people's fear of Chainsaw Man.

Now let's take a step back. Nostradamus' prophecy is about to come true. Fami's goal is to prevent this apocalypse (for pizza). But this prophecy, as Yoshida knew about it and got in touch with Fami, shows that public safety is aware of the danger.

So why do we want Chainsaw Man to disappear? Would Public Security abandon humanity? Hardly imaginable.

I've given it some thought, and here's the plan as I imagine it.

An alliance has been formed between Fami and Public Security, to take control of Chainsaw Man. Not an absolute alliance, I imagine, but the two groups have common interests.

Both groups need a champion to face this apocalypse.

The fact is, Chainsaw Man is getting weaker.

Turning a demon into a hero who is close to humans means that part of the population no longer fears him, so his power falls proportionally.

Chainsaw Man can't face the apocalypse now.

The solution is to separate Chainsaw and Man. Literally.

When Yoshida invites Denji to live quietly, it's so that he can literally retire.

To make way for whom? Bingo. Fake!CSM

So why do they want CSM to disappear? Why so much emphasis on Haruka and the worship of Chainsaw Man's church?

Nothing creates greater fear than giving people a hero and then suddenly taking him away. We're back to another of CSM's key themes: necessary evil.

If, overnight, CSM no longer appeared to fight the demons, then the world would be in disarray. And fear would increase... giving power to the secretly chosen champion.

A champion... who only appears before dawn. At the very last moment.

The existence of Chainsaw Man leads to clashes, increased tensions and dissent.

His disappearance, meanwhile, will lead to a consensus: the despair of a humanity with no so-called protection.

Nostradamus' prophecy is not simply a prophecy announcing the apocalypse, but a plan that has been in front of us all along.

To be saved, humanity must descend into chaos.

If you want to better understand my theory about Fake!CSM :

[puppetwoman17]

Injustice What-If:

The Superman brought to the Injustice universe to battle his evil counterpart returns to his home universe. He’s grateful to see all of his friends, reflecting back on how horrible that other world was.

He gives his Lois a giant hug and caresses her stomach where their child is, swearing that he will never become like the other him. He mourns that he’ll never be able to see Green Arrow again, but is happy for him nonetheless.

He smiles at his world’s Diana and Bruce, his best friends, his confidants who will set him straight if he goes overboard. He’s grateful for Barry and Hal, and Victor and Arthur. For a moment, he flashes back to Hal in that yellow suit and Victor with that glowing red eye of his, more machine than man.

Clark is happy.

Then he sees Shazam. He sees Billy, coming from school, with both homework and Champion work to do. He’s confident and excitable and isn’t able to hide the beaming smile when he sees Clark. He begins ranting about his stupid teachers and how long and boring school is. How he couldn’t wait to get out of there and go fight some demons or robots or wizards.

Clark’s smile drops. The rest of the League notices and immediately asks what’s wrong. Is he tired? Is he overwhelmed? How can they help?

He can’t look at him. Clark can’t look Billy in the eyes without knowing what happened to his other self. What he caused. Who he killed. His stomach drops and he feels tears begin to well up in his eyes before he quickly blinks them away. Billly doesn’t need tears right now. He doesn’t need to deal with the problems of adults like he had to in that other universe. Like hell would Clark allow that to happen.

Billy leaves soon after, claiming he has to finish his work quickly if he wants to get to patrol faster. Clark nods slowly as he leaves before turning to look at his confused cohorts.

Diana asks what happened. Why he reacted like that to Billy in particular. Barry agrees and asks if the little guy got hurt or something. Dr. Fate is the only silent observer.

Clark looks them all in the eye, and tells them everything. About how horrible the other world is. How horrible his other self was. The constant death and despair.

And then, he tells them what he found out before he left. Why that world’s Shazam wasn’t there.

The other Clark killed him.

Billy was the only one who spoke out against the other Superman’s war-crazy plans of conquering other planets. Other universes. It was a no brained that the Champion would be the most against the tyranny. And yet, no one helped. No one said a thing.

No one moved in to protect the boy when Injustice-Superman’s breath froze Shazam’s mouth, preventing him from speaking the word that might’ve saved him. No one spoke when hot laser eyes burned into Shazam’s. No one helped move the body when it fell to the ground.

The League is horrified! Angered and disgusted and every other ugly feeling. Diana is distraught that she just watched the boy she, and everyone else, thought of as a little brother be killed before her very eyes, and by one of her closest friends! Hal wants to kill his other self for preventing the other Barry from helping, and Barry just wants to throttle the other Superman. Victor doesn’t move a muscle, but more could be said in how he glared at the metal encasing his body. He swore that he would never let the machine take full control. Now he knew why.

Bruce wants to go back. See the other Billy’s grave. He wants to find their Billy and give him the biggest hug, shove food into his arms and a blanket over his shoulders.

Of course, Billy knows already. He felt it in the Rock, heard the whisper of his death in another world by a distraught Wizard. He actually isn’t all that surprised. Of course a world like that would do something horrible to him, why not?

But that doesn’t stop his surprise when League members hang around him more often than they already do. They don’t get clingy, per we, but they do lose their shit when he isn’t in the room. They sneak a little money into his pocket when he says no, and they, on more than one occasion, wrestle each other for some aloe time with Billy.

He’s just glad they haven’t asked him if he knows he’s dead in another universe.

He’s going to the funeral soon. And he’ll be one of the only people there.

[water-to-drink]

Request: Yandere Clorinde x Reader (This is my first request here, so sorry if I broke any rules)

Hunter and Prey

(Pairing): Yan!Clorinde x gn!reader

(Synopsis): After an unlikely friendship blossomed it soon became a twisted obsession from the Champion Duelist

(Tags/Warnings): Yandere behavior, violence & death (not towards reader), written from Clorinde’s pov, (if I missed anything lmk)

(Word Count): 800

I DO NOT CONDONE YANDERE BEHAVIOR IN REAL LIFE

It started out simple, a regular duel between Clorinde and you, for the matter that it came about she doesn’t remember only that it was over something trivial. As expected she came out victorious, what she didn’t expect was for you to come back and gift her a basket filled with treats

“So it is true, the mentions on how strong you are. I guess that’s on me for underestimating the Champion Duelist.” You smiled at her. “Please accept this as an apology and as a token of my respect.”

That was the start of an unlikely friendship and eventually a twisted obsession

Occasionally you would drop by just to talk with her, at first she thought that you were odd wanting to talk to her. Most people even steer clear from her after a duel, but you actively seek her out to talk and eventually befriended. Just remembering about it makes her heart beat faster

Her devotion to you started when you and her were together and you saw someone, she doesn’t remember who, avoid her by crossing the street

“It must be sad, having people treat you that way.” You said

“I am an instrument of Fontaine’s law, whether it having an impact on me, does not matter.” Clorinde replied

“That can’t be all to you! You know you’re more than the Champion Duelist. At least to me.”

Sure she was told that many times, but it felt so different coming from you. It felt like it was coming from a place of genuine concern for her. Your concern for a friend was the start of the twisted love that would begin to form in Clorinde’s heart

It was almost like a switch flipped inside her. Now her eyes instantly turn its gaze towards you, intensely studying your every move like a hunter watching its prey

She even uses her hunting skills to watch you in the dead of night, to ensure your safety she tells herself

Most nights it’s just her following you home and watching you when you’re in the supposed privacy of your home. She would watch you with a pair of binoculars from the rooftop of a nearby building, during these moments it almost felt like she was with you. Only fueling her obsession even further

However one night wasn’t like the others. There you are, walking back to your apartment after a long shift and unbeknownst to you a shady figure follows you. The figure stalks you until pulling out a knife and almost bringing the blade down on you, but Clorinde is quicker than a mere ruffian prowling the streets of Fontaine

Silently she sneaks up on the thug and points her pistol against the neck of the man, he stopped dead in his tracks and oh so sweet you, remained unaware of the harm that was about to befall you

Clorinde dragged the scum calling itself a man into an alley and shot the thug in the leg, making sure to not hit the major artery. The bang most likely alerted you and made you run back to the safety of your home

She turned her attention towards the man who now is on the floor and clutching his leg. Getting a clear view of her face and realizing who she was the bastard pleads for mercy

Mercy, the same way you would have plead for him to spare you, but knowing ruffians like him he wouldn’t give you any. And that’s why she must show him the same treatment he would’ve given her sweet angel, summoning her sword she raised it above her head and thrusted it into his chest

Flawlessly ending the thug’s life

Over the course of the next few days you carried on with your life yet that night still plagued Clorinde’s mind, that night of was harsh reminder of the dangers that lurks every corner. This world is full of evil, she sees it firsthand every day

So over the course of a few weeks to a month she prepared a room for you in her massive home. She tailored the room to your taste and needs, from the color of the wallpaper to the material of the sheets on the bed. It looked like a normal room with the exception of locks preventing anyone getting in or out without a key. The final step was taking some of Sigewinne’s sedatives, and in the dead of night she snuck into your apartment.

She watched you sleep for what seemed like an eternity for an ordinary person but to Clorinde it couldn’t have lasted longer. You looked so peaceful in this state. She almost feels guilty for doing this to you, but it’s for your safety. She told herself as she injected the sedatives into your sleeping form

[bellewintersroe]

Sebastian Vettel x RBDesignEngineer Reader.

Set in 2013 during the GP, Jennifer is fresh out of uni and has made a name for herself within the F1 world. She joins Redbull-Renault as one of their engineer designers and easily fits into the team, forming friendships easily. Most of all, she captures the attention of three time world champion, Sebastian Vettel.

Part 2 - here the LINK to part 1. Warning: Jen’s bf is a controlling, toxic ASSHOLE, so mentions of abuse that may be triggering to some. Bf is a dick bcs the angst is fun to write- Seb takes an instant dislike to her bf because he just has a good eye for evil people 😈 let’s just say Sebastian slays her bday whilst her bf… is a flop.

Australia, Albert Park, March 17th. “-And I told them, you gotta look out for Sebastian’s tires, but nobody wanted to listen to me!” I explained, leaning over to speak directly into the drivers ear over the loud club music. Our first race in Australian with the RB9 went relatively good apart from a good teething issues. Teething issues that I did point out but the mechanics were happy with the tires that brought Sebastian down from pole to 3rd- still not a bad result.

“Next time, I am listening to you.” Seb slipped an arm over the back of the booth, behind me, the comment and smile he flashed me sending a rush of warmth through my chest. With Dutch courage I was able to chatter freely to Sebastian. “Well, I’m not really a mechanic.” I shrugged. “Hm?” He leaned in a little closer. My breath hitched, scanning over his face as the tipsy man leant against me slightly. “I just said, I’m not really a mechanic…” I gently spoke, eyes falling to the small gap between us. Feeling a little tense, my eyes roamed around the room, suddenly catching a glimpse of a tall, dark haired man ahead of me. The warmth that once spread through my chest was ignited into an uncomfortably hot fire. It raged deep inside of me, the sensations of panic, guilt, comfort all hitting me at once. It was my boyfriend. All the way from England. An odd sickness knocked me still, and it wasn’t from the alcohol. “Luke!” I borderline choked out, feeling Sebastian pull back slightly, eyeing up the figure with an awkwardly dirty expression. I cringed instantaneously.

“Who is that?” Sebastian questioned jusf as I was pushing myself out of the booth. “My boyfriend.” I was just as shocked, if not more than everybody else seemed to be. It wasn’t that I acted single around here, I just never told anybody about Luke, my anxieties and uncomfortable sensation that surrounded the topic was no exception in the current moment. “Hi!” I breathlessly walked over, halting in front of him. “What’re you not gonna give me a kiss? C’mere.” He pulled me, as I tripped forwards, feeling his lips on mine. The sensation felt foreign, it had been over 2 weeks since I’d last seen him, I hoped with the distance came separation- but Luke was insistent that if I took this job he would follow me. Yes- follow me.

“Oh, you’ve still got that shit on your lips.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand as I stared at him, forcing a smile. It was weird, I felt nothing, nothing but a slight fear seeing the bottle of alcohol clutching in his left hand. I already had the breakup rehearsed so perfectly in my mind, ready for my next venture home. The same breakup I’d attempted four times over in a mere six months out of the eighteen we had spent together. “Sorry.” I awkwardly spoke, not loud enough so he could hear me. When he turned to the rest of my friends sat around I felt a pang in my chest knowing what he was expecting.

“This is Luke, um, here’s Christian- you know Christian, Molly, James, oh there’s Manny, that there is Sebastian-”

“Yeah, I know who Sebastian is, hun.” Luke nudged me off as a joke as I now sat across from where I previously was, unable to meet anybody’s eye. “Oh, you never mentioned a boyfriend, Jen!!” James exclaimed. “Oh, you didn’t?” There came that passive aggressive laugh from Luke’s clenched jaw. I mentally swore as James’ word. I knew he didn’t mean it to sound so bad, but I just knew there’d be an argument later that night. Across from me, I watched Sebastian’s eyes narrow towards the man before he seemed to shake it off and sip from his own drink. It was only a brief glance, sparingly looking at Luke. Maybe I was just being dramatic, but he didn’t seem too happy. And when he looked at me, he just looked purely confused. That’s pretty how much it went for the rest of the evening, Luke’s anger was becoming more and more noticeable until we got inside the hotel room. To our left, was Sebastian, and to our right was a poor Hannah, RedBull’s Senior Strategy Engineer.

I was silent when the bedroom door closed, Luke stumbled straight to the hallway, spinning around to me and spitting when the door was shut. “Yeah now you’re being so quiet, hardly happy to see me after three weeks, are you?” “I was just shocked.” I stumbled, placing my bag on the side. “It’s your birthday next week, why wouldn’t I be here?!” He snapped. “I said I was just shocked, that’s all.�� I repeated, reaching over for my makeup wipes. “Don’t bother wearing all that shit on your lips next time, looks stupid anyway.”

“Luke!” I exclaimed in shock as he blew me off, stripping off his shirt and dropping himself into bed. “You and I both know why you’re wearing it.”

“Because I like it.” I defended, harshly ripping an wipe out of the packet. “I don’t… I know the other men do though.”

“Oh my god, don’t start this…” I felt borderline defeated already, standing like a lemon as I wanted to plead with the drunk to shut up. “Yeah, oh my god!” He shot back up out of bed, still jean classed. “You never fucking said how many men you were working with, now you’re dressing like this, acting like this! You don’t even tell them you have a fucking boyfriend!”

“Please be quiet, everybody’s next door-” “You think I give a fuck who’s next door?!” He hissed back as I sighed, hurrying to make my way to the bathroom. I locked myself in, feeling and hearing him slam on the door in response. I could hear the heaviness of his angered breathing from the other side of the wood. I hated when he got this intense and riled up, it struck a fear inside me then I figured it was just better to shut up rather than ignite his anger further.

“You’re the only one who gives a fuck, Jennifer! Nobody else! None of these people give a shit about you either! What, after three months you think they want to be friends with you?!” I felt complete and utter humiliation as he yelled away, I knew these hotel rooms weren’t soundproof, the thought of everybody knowing we were having a domestic after one night felt humiliating and damaging- never mind his words that hit a sensitive part deep inside of me. “A world champion, F1, fucking celebrity, wanting to be friends with you. You’re fucking kidding me, Jennifer. Get a fucking life!” That night I slept in the bathroom. It sounded absolutely pathetic, I know it was, but it was the reality of being with Luke. It’s like now he was back I felt this odd attachment to him, like without him I’d be lonely and he was my crutch to this whole world. Pathetic, again. I knew, but I couldn’t control it. I missed the separation I once had from him, and when my birthday rolled around the week after he was still there, this time, in a different country, Malaysia.

“Happy birthday! Happy, happy birthday, why didn’t you say it was your birthday?!” An all so familiar voice walked in through to where I was seated in front of my computers, I audibly gasped, feeling arms wrap around my front. It was Sebastian. “Oh!” My hands flew up to the warmth of his skin, his hands gentle as he gave me a light squeeze into his chest.

“I- thank you!” I laughed, feeling him glance over my side to give me the most adoring smile. “23?” “22. I accidentally told the camera guy the other day I was already 22.” I winced as he laughed, arm sliding off me. “No need to keep your birthday a secret though?!” Seb stood up straighter as I pushed my head phones off, gazing up to him with that fluttering feeling lingering in my chest. “I know… how did you know it was my birthday?”

“I know everything. You’ll be here until 4, right?” “5 tonight.” “Perfect.” “Why?” “Just perfect.” god knows what he meant, he was back and fourth all day, working out, chatting, checking out his car, tyres, eating, chatting some more, getting back to work and meetings. Eventually I’d wondered if nothing was to come at all from our brief conversation, it wasn’t like I expected anything, but I was just confused.

“Your boyfriend treat you to anything nice?” Hannah perked a brow, offering me an oddly knowing look. I knew she’d heard our argument back in Australia, I could tell by the way she’d look at me the next morning, ask if I was okay- I didn’t continue any further discussion about it with her.

“Yeah!” I took a deep inhale, pushing one headphone off. “Yeah.” I responded again, gathering my thoughts. Correction- lies. “What’s he got?” She responded as I awkwardly laughed, letting out a gentle exhale through my nose.

“He’s not given me it yet.” I defended, biting down on my lip and returning my attention back to my computer. My teeth were gritted together and my leg began to bounce uncomfortably from under the desk.

“He’s not got you anything has he?” She honestly spoke as I cleared my throat. “No.” The urge to get upset was creeping up on me.

“What? Did you say your boyfriends got you nothing?” This time, an Australian accent approached, Mark Webber was there, brows furrowed. “Ah- not yet.” I forced a laugh. “Well it’s a good thing we’re all-”

“Happy birthday to you…” Oh my god… “Happy birthday to you! Happy birthday dear Jeeeeeen, happy birthday to you!” I gasped in complete and utter ecstasy seeing everybody gathering, singing happy birthday. At either side of the cake stood Christian and Sebastian (of course) with a huge 22 in pink fondant spread across the cake. My heart swelled and lips immediately lifted, I almost felt tears fill my eyes as I perched on the edge of my seat, blowing out the 22 candles lit across the cake. Nobody had ever done anything like that for me before, ever… and the mastermind behind it all?? Sebastian Vettel.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, for today!” I practically threw my arms around the German man. He audibly giggled into my embrace, leaning down to kiss my cheek as I laughed, slightly tipsy from the few glasses of champagne I’d been fed. Christian told me to ‘fuck off work’ and the lot of them all enjoyed a few drinks with me. “You deserve a good birthday, everybody does, no?”

“I know but… I just didn’t expect it today, I appreciate it, thank you.”

“I would’ve gotten you a present if I knew sooner, but… hopefully your boyfriend treats you with something good.” He honestly spoke as I felt my heart pang. A sad kinda laugh escaped my lips as Sebastian cocked his head to the side with a confused expression.

“What’s funny?” “Nothing, really, just… I don’t think anything can top all that today, thank you again.” I smiled as he nodded back to me, lips stretched. He reached out, rubbing my upper back before we headed back to our rooms.

“Oh and Jen?” “Yeah?” “If he shouts at you on your birthday, I’ll come barging in…”

[atopvisenyashill]

connections between naerys and sansa?

There’s plenty! She’s very much in a Naerys/Aegon scenario in ASOS & ACOK, where she has no ability to leave the capital, no one doing anything meaningful to protect her, and a King that is obsessed with sexually humiliating her. There’s a lot of romanticism and chivalry surrounding her character and how other people react to her character, the same as Naerys.

But also, Sansa makes the comparisons to Naerys herself, and she does it before she realizes what kind of person Joffrey is! In fact, it starts with her very first chapter where she compares Joffrey interrupting Ilyn Payne & Sandor Clegane to Aemon demanding a trial by combat against Ser Morgil:

A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders.

She will compare Joffrey to Aemon and herself to Naerys again later, to Ned:

"Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies."

(lowkey she’s so fucking funny for that “i only just now remembered” comment, idk how ned kept a straight face for it)

She then uses Aemon (and the Cargyll twins) to make Tommen feel better and dunk on Joffrey:

Prince Tommen sobbed. "You mew like a suckling babe," his brother hissed at him. "Princes aren't supposed to cry." "Prince Aemon the Dragonknight cried the day Princess Naerys wed his brother Aegon," Sansa Stark said, "and the twins Ser Arryk and Ser Erryk died with tears on their cheeks after each had given the other a mortal wound." "Be quiet, or I'll have Ser Meryn give you a mortal wound," Joffrey told his betrothed.

Again, there’s a focus on Aemon’s romantic relationship with Naerys because that's what appeals to Sansa. But when people say "Sansa sees the world through stories" it's not just about how she romanticizes or idolizes knighthood, nobility, and chivalry - she thinks through information by comparing it with similar historical events or stories and analyzing it. She clearly sees the problem with Loras protecting Margaery from Joffrey by comparing him to the Toynes instead of Aemon, and Joffrey (once again) to Aegon the Unworthy:

She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her . . . and yet, her doubts still gnawed at her. Ser Loras was a great knight, all agreed. But Joffrey had other Kingsguard, and gold cloaks and red cloaks besides, and when he was older he would command armies of his own. Aegon the Unworthy had never harmed Queen Naerys, perhaps for fear of their brother the Dragonknight . . . but when another of his Kingsguard fell in love with one of his mistresses, the king had taken both their heads. Ser Loras is a Tyrell, Sansa reminded herself. That other knight was only a Toyne. His brothers had no armies, no way to avenge him but with swords. Yet the more she thought about it all, the more she wondered. Joff might restrain himself for a few turns, perhaps as long as a year, but soon or late he will show his claws, and when he does . . . The realm might have a second Kingslayer, and there would be war inside the city, as the men of the lion and the men of the rose made the gutters run red.

She’s also not wrong in her assessment here because the Tyrells (my guess is Garlan and Olenna) are so worried about this outcome they just murder Joffrey and install Tommen; like Bethany Bracken, Margaery is groomed (with all the implications that are included in such a loaded term) to be sexually available to the King because her father wants power and doesn't care if his daughter is sexually abused to get it. Like Terrance Toyne, Loras is considered attractive, skilled, and has several brothers more than willing to start a war to avenge his death. I think it's incredibly intuitive that Sansa ultimately comes to the same conclusion as two seasoned political players like (presumably) Olenna and Garlan come to, and she makes this judgement call very quickly!

And Sansa also hits on a lot of (correct) similarities when she makes these comparisons between Joffrey's court and Aegon the Unworthy's court; Aegon and Joffrey both have wild, violent temperaments while being notoriously difficult to control. It’s not just Naerys that attempts to get Aegon to stop marital raping her; Aemon’s useless tears aside, Viserys does do the bare minimum here in sending Aegon away so Naerys can heal from her miscarriages, Daeron got shitty with the Brackens about being tacky over Naerys' marital rape and ill health, Baelor fasts himself to death over Naerys’ miscarriages, etc etc. All of the “authority figures” around Aegon think his behavior is wrong but Aegon proves stubbornly difficult to control or kill. Joffrey falls along these same lines - Cersei, Robert, Tyrion, Tywin, and even Varys all struggle to get some control over Joffrey but like Aegon, he knows once he’s of age and has that crown he doesn’t have to answer for SHIT and stubbornly resists every attempt to curb his behavior. Joffrey is a hell scenario waiting to happen because like Aegon, he’s petty and petulant enough to pull the stunts Aegon pulls like pitting his true born kids against his bastard born ones and causing another violent succession crisis. I say this as like, the ultimate Joffrey Apologist here, lmaooo, he has reasons for being a nasty piece of shit but the Tyrells are right to look at him and go “oh that’s trouble” because he is a ticking time bomb. And the crazy thing is, it’s not just Sansa who compares Joffrey to Aegon the Unworthy:

"A king can have other women. Whores. My father did. One of the Aegons did too. The third one, or the fourth. He had lots of whores and lots of bastards." As they whirled to the music, Joff gave her a moist kiss. "My uncle will bring you to my bed whenever I command it." Sansa shook her head. "He won't." "He will, or I'll have his head. That King Aegon, he had any woman he wanted, whether they were married or no."

Joffrey makes the comparison himself. He's a piece of work just like his hero and he is directly threatening to rape Sansa the same way Aegon raped Naerys and poor Bethany Bracken. He is directly admitting he is "unworthy" and practically daring all of KL to overthrow him for it because he thinks they'll blink before he does (and he is unfortunately deadly wrong in this assumption).

And when you extrapolate out from there, you can see other, similar patterns between Naerys' life and Sansa's, beyond the Joffrey-Aegon, Margaery-Bethany, Loras-Terrance, and Sansa-Naerys parallels. Tyrion himself aspires to be a sort of Viserys II type player (see: "It should have been called the Lives of Five Kings" rant he gives to Oberyn); a power behind the throne directing his crazy family to do what's right or smart or proper. There's an interesting echo in Viserys taking direct action in sending Aegon away from Naerys and Tyrion stopping Joffrey in his assault of Sansa - like Viserys, he can see the monster in the king he is raising, makes an attempt to stop it, but fails because he underestimates just how dangerous and erratic his little king has become. Like Viserys, Tyrion is suspected of poisoning his own nephew in an attempt to get closer to power and the throne (and Viserys, like Tyrion, is probably innocent - the sort of fasting that Baelor was doing regularly is hard on the body!).

I don't think any of this is coincidental or accidental either, because of that haunting scene where Joffrey destroys the gift Tyrion got him. Here's the scene, excuse the wall of text, but it's important:

He plays the gracious king today. Joffrey could be gallant when it suited him, Sansa knew, but it seemed to suit him less and less. Indeed, all his courtesy vanished at once when Tyrion presented him with their own gift: a huge old book called Lives of Four Kings, bound in leather and gorgeously illuminated. The king leafed through it with no interest. "And what is this, Uncle?" A book. Sansa wondered if Joffrey moved those fat wormy lips of his when he read. "Grand Maester Kaeth's history of the reigns of Daeron the Young Dragon, Baelor the Blessed, Aegon the Unworthy, and Daeron the Good," her small husband answered. "A book every king should read, Your Grace," said Ser Kevan. “My father had no time for books.” Joffrey shoved the tome across the table. “If you read less, Uncle Imp, perhaps Lady Sansa would have a baby in her belly by now.” He laughed … and when the king laughs, the court laughs with him. “Don’t be sad, Sansa, once I’ve gotten Queen Margaery with child I’ll visit your bedchamber and show my little uncle how it’s done.” Sansa reddened. She glanced nervously at Tyrion, afraid of what he might say. This could turn as nasty as the bedding had at their own feast. But for once the dwarf filled his mouth with wine instead of words... [Joffrey gets a Valyrian sword and figures out a name for it, Widow's Wail, it's a few pages, it's not relevant here] Joffrey brought Widow’s Wail down in a savage two-handed slice, onto the book that Tyrion had given him. The heavy leather cover parted at a stroke. “Sharp! I told you, I am no stranger to Valyrian steel.” It took him half a dozen further cuts to hack the thick tome apart, and the boy was breathless by the time he was done. Sansa could feel her husband struggling with his fury as Ser Osmund Kettleblack shouted, “I pray you never turn that wicked edge on me, sire.” “See that you never give me cause, ser.” Joffrey flicked a chunk of Lives of Four Kings off the table at swordpoint, then slid Widow’s Wail back into its scabbard. “Your Grace,” Ser Garlan Tyrell said. “Perhaps you did not know. In all of Westeros there were but four copies of that book illuminated in Kaeth’s own hand.” “Now there are three.” Joffrey undid his old swordbelt to don his new one. “You and Lady Sansa owe me a better present, Uncle Imp. This one is all chopped to pieces.”

God I love that passage so much. There's a lot there but what's relevant is a) both Oberyn and Garlan are trying to get a measure of who Joffrey is, and have some child murdering plans potentially in the works during this scene. Watching Joffrey destroy a priceless tome of history given as a well thought, well meant, incredibly generous (and pointed) gift from his uncle is more than enough proof for either man to decide Joffrey is not worth the headache, and please note Garlan is the only person to call Joffrey out to his face, and Oberyn is a few pages later the only person to acknowledge this was a fantastic and kind gift from Tyrion that Joffrey reacted absolutely deranged towards for no reason. and b) Tyrion is almost literally saying to Joffrey "I can be your Viserys, I can make it so you're remembered as a great king the way Daeron II or Baelor are, or a great warrior like Daeron I, but you have to understand the reason why I'm worried about your behavior" and Joffrey does the most destructive, unworthy thing he can possibly do - he quite literally destroys priceless, useful historical knowledge and wisdom with his bare hands, in favor of senseless, petulant violence. As Catelyn would say, Joffrey's real bride is not Margaery, but the war he's fighting and the crown on his head.

All of this to say - there's a lot of parallels between Sansa's situation in KL and Naery's life and these parallels are drawn not only by Sansa herself, but also by several people around her. However, I hope for better things for Sansa than what poor Naerys got - I hope for an Aemon the Dragonknight that will do more than just cry while she's raped, but actually step into that room and defend her, or else give her the power to defend herself. Despite the long wait for The Winds of Winter, I also think it's likely we will get some sort of Dragonknight, devoted sworn sword for Sansa and this person will help protect her, and Sansa will have agency that Naerys could only ever dream of.

[prettyinb69ts]

MASTERLIST

HOLY JJKxREADER smut w/ plot

A grand, ancient cathedral in a secluded city where the men—Gojo, Nanami, Geto, and Toji—serve as highly respected priests. Each one of them holds unique responsibilities, ensuring the spiritual well-being of the community. The cathedral is both a place of reverence and a source of darkness, with rumors of supernatural occurrences tied to its history. The life of y/n is forever changed when she catches the eye of a priest, leading her down a rabbit hole of darkness, desire, and what it truly means to be consumed!!

TSUNAMI JOO JAEKYUNGxREADER smut w/ plot

Y/N, a rising singer and club promoter known as "Babydoll," is drawn to the intense world of MMA. She catches the attention of two rival fighters-Joo Jaekyung, a fierce, hot-tempered champion, and Damon Michaels, a mysterious, brooding contender. Both men are determined to claim her, igniting a heated competition both inside and outside the ring. As Y/N, with her playful and provocative demeanor, navigates the escalating tension between the two fighters, she struggles with her own growing desire and the secret she's kept hidden. Caught in a dangerous love triangle, Y/N must decide whether to stay in control of her life or surrender to the passion between these powerful men.

Guts N' Glory SUKUNAxREADER plot w/ smut

Ryomen Sukuna, a cocky MMA champion, lives for the fight and his own ego. Enter Y/N, a cute, slightly clumsy pop star whose bubbly charm wins everyone over—except Sukuna. After a viral encounter at a charity event throws them together, the media starts shipping them as the next celebrity couple, much to Sukuna's annoyance. Y/N is determined to break through his arrogant demeanor, while Sukuna can't seem to shake her off despite trying to keep his distance. As their worlds collide—his brutal, competitive fighting and her sweet, pop-driven stardom—their playful game of cat and mouse turns into something more.

#RUNBABYRUN SUKUNAxREADER+ GETO smut w/ plot

Y/N is a naive and somewhat sheltered college girl. She leads a typical student life, balancing classes, part-time jobs, and nights out with friends. One fateful night, Y/N and her friends decide to visit an exclusive club rumored to be frequented by high-profile figures. At the club, Y/N accidentally stumbles into Sukuna's VIP section. Unaware of who he is, Y/N treats him like any other guy, amused by her boldness and annoyed by her innocence, Sukuna lets her stay, much to the shock of everyone around them. He's used to people trembling in fear, but Y/N's unawareness of his reputation fascinates him. What starts as a chance encounter evolves into something darker. Sukuna becomes obsessed with destroying Y/N's , enjoying the way she has no idea how dangerous he truly is.

Echoes Of A Cursed Soul MEGUMIxREADER plot w/ smut

Y/N is a formidable jujutsu sorcerer, blessed and cursed as the reincarnation her ancestor. This unique heritage bestows her with exceptional abilities, making her a vital member of the jujutsu forces tasked with exorcising evil spirits and demons. Y/N secretly harbors a crush on her fellow officer, Megumi, a skilled and determined sorcerer. However, she struggles to express her feelings, haunted by nightmares of a past life and the unsettling sensation of being watched. Her life takes a drastic turn when the reckless Yuji Itadori inadvertently brings the King of Curses back into the mortal realm. Now, caught in a battle against time and fate, Y/N must confront the depths of her powers and the shadows of her past. The critical question looms: How far will Y/N Shigaraki go to protect the people she loves?

all of these are gonna be posted on tumblr and wattpad but probably wattpad FRIST cause it’s easier to post 🫶🏾

[vampirzina]

Could you do headcanons Shang Tsung with a siren reader who is as evil as he is?

♒︎ ┆SHANG TSUNG w. DARK SIREN!READER HCS

tw(s): gn pronouns (you only), sfw, villain!reader, manipulation, jealousy, possessiveness/controlling tropes, one (1) question of faithfulness, typical siren powers, mdni

notes: for the sake of the story, reader has legs and is humanoid. also trying out new formatting styles so i apologize if there’s inconsistencies between posts/req

masterlist

— Spoiler: he’s the one who’s lured. He knew it asap.

— Yet he must lie to say he’s immune to you (he’s not). It’ll humble you in a way and keep him out of trouble, for now. That’s really the only reason I could think of as to why he wouldn’t jump to be in a relationship with you

— But best believe you’re already his.

— He just needs you to be focused on doing what he needs you to do in order to get ahead of his enemies. He’s also wary of you turning on him, so he’s only keeping a ‘close eye on you’, or whatever that means

— You don’t believe it for a second, but you play his little game. It’s annoying for a while when all you’re used for is to lure Liu Kang and his champion, as well as keep henchmen under a sort of trance

— However, you’re determined to prove that he’s not immune to you, if not the most head-over-heels of all the people you’ve lured

— Charm is on 100, and when you practically throw yourself on Johnny Cage when he gets to his lab (for example, other than the way you speak to General Shao or some random pawn), that tether anchoring Shang Tsung almost snaps

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Shang Tsung is leaned against the cold wall with arms crossed, having been mean-mugging you from the corner ever since the Earthrealm champion left his laboratory.

He’d catch up with them later. For now, you.

It drove him further up the wall that you didn’t seem to care that his gaze pierced your very soul, as you kept picking away at your glass skin in a simple handheld mirror.

You shut it with carefully manicured hands, and you’d finally paid him attention where there he is across the room. Your painted lips flatten into a tauntingly tantalizing line.

“Excuse me?” you bat your eyelashes.

“You’re excused,” he replied, sulking further where he stood.

“You fished me out of my house to do a job, and that very job I did. Was there something I missed in that contract, Tsung?” you asked, but you got no answer except a brooding look. He knew if he spoke right now, he’d forfeit.

Your pursed lips curve into a smirk, you tilt your head at him and you squint. With a sway of your hips, you watch each other as you leave.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

..

— The straw to break the camels back was when you did it again, but this time got too touchy feely with one of those peers who are of status.

— He’s straightforward (and borderline aggressive that’s hiding behind a sly way with words) about what he wants now while you’re so nonchalant about it; he wants you all to himself. But that doesn’t mean you’ll stop luring people, no

— By time he realizes what he’s doing, it’s too late to go back. He figures that you’ve been worthy enough all this time because you made it this far, so why not? It couldn’t be that bad, having a beautiful thing like you on his arm

— While your fidelity might be questioned if you continue to lure people, it’s not a debate whether or not you have Shang Tsung wrapped around your finger now.

— …You’ll have to make up for/prove it in private quarters to keep him close, as he tends to act out when he thinks you’re phasing him out. And just between you and him: he’d ask you to sing him to sleep some nights while you were big spoon.

— He lavishes you, but he still has his mind enough to put himself first. No matter how much you try, you could never make Shang Tsung put you above himself enough to be able to make a puppet out of him.

— You’ll settle for second place.. For now.

..

@𝐕𝐀𝐌𝐏𝐈𝐑𝐙𝐈𝐍𝐀೨

[triforce-of-mischief]

Spirit of the Sky

Summary: Wild has had a very bad day, from losing Zelda to breaking the Master Sword. It would be a really bad time for Sky to show up.

Words: 680

AO3

Please reblog to show your support! Likes do nothing.

For the second time in his life, Wild woke up alone, in an unfamiliar place, with no memory of how he had gotten there. He wasn’t even wearing any clothes, but his arm- the one that the skeletal figure underneath the castle had burned- wasn’t right at all. It was glowing, along with some glyphs creeping up his shoulder, but it wasn’t even his arm. It responded like it was his, and he could feel it, but it was like a stranger had somehow grafted it to his body.

A calm voice spoke to him, telling him that his arm hadn’t been the only thing that Wild had nearly lost. The champion’s head whirled, taking in too much information at once. So much had happened so fast, and he had only been awake for less than a minute without any time to remember what had gone wrong before.

His arm- the Demon King- the Master Sword- Zelda-

He had to find her.

First things first, he had to get out of this… room? Cave? There were roots and vines everywhere but they didn’t quite obscure the stone foundation. Wild didn’t really care, especially when he saw what was lodged in some vines a few feet away.

The Master Sword looked fine, if you ignored everything below the hilt. Wild had seen how the gloom had shattered the blade, but when he drew it, nothing could prepare him for what he gingerly held in his hand. It was barely more than a dagger now, the metal jagged and corroded by the concentrated evil.

The Blade of Evil’s Bane, forged countless years ago and wielded by heroes across the ages… was broken.

Wild had broken the Master Sword.

Sky was going to kill him.

That terrifying thought was more than Wild could handle, and he fell to the ground, collapsed under all of the stress.

“Wild.”

He had been powerless to stop the return of the Demon King, he had lost Zelda-

“Wild, you have to breathe.”

He was a failure to his friends, his brothers, his kingdom-

Something like a cold hand landed on his shoulder, trying to ground him in the present. “Wild, please listen to me, you have to breathe.”

Wild gasped, recognizing the voice before he turned around. It wasn’t the one who had told him that they had saved him, it was none other than-

“It’s just me,” the voice said, low and soothing. “It’s Sky.”

Clutching the sword close like he could hide it, Wild whirled around, coming face-to-face with the spirit of the Chosen Hero.

Sky smiled, making up for the lack of warmth in his blank teal eyes. His mouth didn’t move, but Wild heard his words in his mind. “Hey, I’m right here. No need to panic.”

Easy for him to say, when he was still two seconds from seeing the Master Sword and tearing Wild apart. Wild gripped the blade tighter, wincing as the twisted metal dug into his palms.

“Careful, you’re going to hurt yourself,” Sky said, frowning until Wild eased his death grip on the broken blade. He just stared sadly at it, and Wild felt like he was about to scream.

“I’m sorry,” Wild sobbed, setting the sword on his lap since his hands were shaking too much. “I didn’t mean to break it, I swear, I know you’re mad-”

“Mad? Why would I be mad?” Sky asked, too gentle to bear. “You did everything in your power to stop that guy, and so did she. Her final act was to save you, because you were trying to save your Zelda.”

“But I- I still failed,” Wild protested, though it was weak. “I tried to use it against something it could never stop, it’s all my fault-”

Sky pulled Wild into a sudden hug, a soothing chill surrounding him. “Nothing was your fault. You couldn’t have known that the Demon King would be so strong.”

Wild was still, too tired to argue.

“She did her job, so you can do yours. Take us with you, and go find your Zelda.”

[etherfall]

Alder Adopts N AU: B&W Full Story

I've been mostly telling this story through scattered posts and have made quite a few adjustments to the OG story, so here is a post where I throw everything together. TY to everyone that has contributed suggestions! (I don't have a story for B&W2 yet but will get to that once I finish the game)

Also also I'm not the best at plot heavy stories so if you have any constructive criticism I would be happy to hear it!

TLDR: Alder finds & raises N instead of Ghetsis, causing a disruption in his plan of Unova domination. Years later after getting told that the champion Alder is raising a boy that can talk to Pokémon, Ghetsis seeks to re-capture N and continue his goal of awakening Reshiram to defeat the Champion & take over Unova.

Now for the very VERY detailed version:

History

For a bit of history, Ghetsis has a brother who is the embodiment of Virtue and Purity (This stems from my HC of the two brothers). They are part of the Harmonia bloodline who once ruled Unova many years ago. The brother is kind, generous, and has the ability to communicate with all people including Pokémon (this trait is passed through the purity line), which is why he was crowned King of the remaining followers of the Harmonia family (The Pokémon league kinda has government power over Unova now, but there are still people that live under the rule of the old Harmonia family). Ghetsis on the other hand is the embodiment of Evil. Because of this he never got the throne, and loathed his brother for it.

Ghetsis crafted a plan for him to be able to take the throne from his brother. Using a Cofagrigus (specifically the one on his team), he tricked his brother into getting sucked inside the coffin & mummified. N is very young at this point, leaving Ghetsis as the only available Harmonia member to the throne. He soon turned his attention to world domination.

With his brother dead and his son left, Ghetsis was going to take advantage of N's ability to talk to Pokémon (that he knew would be inherited from his father's ancestry) to summon Reshiram since he could not do it himself. He would convince people to free their Pokémon so he would be the only one who had control. Once Reshiram was freed he would be able to overtake the champion and rule all of Unova. Except his plan would soon be disrupted...

The castle was thrown into disarray. Those who disagreed with Ghetsis were casted out of the castle. In the chaos the young N disappeared, foiling Ghetsis's plan. N was later found in the woods by a group of Pokémon, who would be the ones that eventually raised him.

In the absence of the old King, Ghetsis created Team Plasma, manipulating the people who followed him into liberating Pokémon from trainers under the guise of good intentions. Team Plasma went into secrecy, operating away from the public eye.

Without N, Ghetsis didn't have a figure he could put at the forefront of his plan, so he turned to the next two available characters: Anthea and Concordia. While they probably weren't able to summon the dragon like N could, Ghetsis crowned the two sisters as the Queens of Team Plasma anyways. Maybe with their combined power they would be able to take down the champion and that would be enough. He acted as their closest advisor and kept a close eye on them, paranoid that the two might team up and conspire against him.

While this was going on, the Pokémon Champion Alder had fallen from grace. Once a generous and headstrong champion, he had completely abandoned his responsibilities and left all the work to the Elite 4 members. Alder once had a Volcarona that he had every since he was young. But in his pursuit for power to maintain his position as Champion he pushed his Volcarona too far, which led to it's death. In the aftermath of this he was wracked with grief and guilt, fearful that he hadn't listened to his Pokémon enough and caused its demise. His passion for battling wavered, and he casted aside his champion responsibilities to wander Unova instead.

One day while he was trekking through a forest, he stumbled upon a young boy who was with a couple Pokémon (It's N!). He was curious but also a little concerned, since the boy didn't seem to have any family around. Alder decided to take the boy in, ending his aimless wanderings to return to his home.

Alder raised N as his own son, initially getting him adjusted to society. He quickly realized that N had the special ability to talk to Pokémon. This peaked his interest and he began to teach N about the human and Pokémon connection, especially how it was strengthened during battling. He found that N's ability to talk to Pokémon made him a very effective trainer since he was able to connect to his Pokémon well. He started to mentor N, which re-sparked his own passion for Pokémon battling. Alder began to pick up his roles as champion again, owning up to his responsibility of protecting Unova.

While N is living with Alder he has a very lively childhood. He and Alder like to wander around & explore Unova together, and spend a lot of time outdoors interacting with the wild Pokémon. N gets to meet a lot of different kinds of people, and sees the special connection that both people and Pokémon have together.

Alder encouraged N to use his powers wisely, recognizing that his ability to communicate with Pokémon gave him a lot of advantages. However he entrusted N's good will and never doubted that his son would use his abilities for good deeds.

N's team consists of the Zoroark, Sawsbuck, Darmanitan and Swoobat that raised him in the woods. On his journey through Unova he is amazed by the Klinks in Chargestone Cave, and one ends up following him/evolving into Klinklang. Finally his last Pokémon is an abandoned/injured Deino that he found in the woods. He raises it into a Hydreigon through compassion rather than hate. (Credit: Klinklang, Hydreigon)

News spread that the previously disgraced champion now had an adopted son who was becoming an exceptional Pokémon trainer. N was rising the ranks, growing closer to those around Alder (See here for Elite 4) and shaping up to be a possible future champion.

However, this news also spread to Ghetsis. The Shadow Triad came to Ghetsis one day with the news that Champion Alder had adopted a son who could talk to Pokémon, and they believed he could be the lost son N. Ghetsis was surprised, but now had hope that he would be able to summon the dragon once again if he could just get ahold of N. He sends the Shadow Triad to spy on N and Alder.

B&W Arc

By this time, N is around 18-20 years old. Alder has resumed his role as champion, and him and the Elite 4 are once again on good terms. Since Alder is busy with his duties N becomes the wandering one, traveling around Unova to talk to trainers & their Pokémon

This is when the protag starts their journey. They essentially go through the same B&W game story as a trainer traveling through Unova. I'm not gonna go through all the details, just the parts where there are differences.

The protag fights the sisters (alternating between A&C) in Accumula town & Nacrene city as they question the new trainer about the ethics of Pokémon battling, and later outside the Mistralton gym.

The protag first meets N at Nimbasa city, where he is staring up at the Ferris wheel. He introduces himself and talks to the protag about his fascination for Ferris wheels (as expected), and notes the protag's strong connection w/their Pokémon before wishing them good luck on their journey.

The protag meets Alder & N at route 5, where they introduce themselves as free-spirited father & son. They've been scoping out an increase in Team Plasma activity and warns the protag to be careful. They also appear together before Twist mountain with this same mission.

The protag finds N in Chargestone cave, peering at the crystals in wonder. He has a conversation with them & helps them battle past the grunts in the cave before heading off (Suggest here).

Atop the dragonspiral tower, the protag encounters Ghetsis with the Light stone, lifting it up into the air as he tries to summon the dragon to no avail. He sees the player approach and makes a hasty retreat

The sisters appear at Relic Castle a final time in search of the Dark stone for Ghetsis. Alder is there with the protag and warns the sisters that what they are attempting to do is not as good as they think it will be. The sisters ignore his words, vowing that they will defeat him and liberate all Pokémon

When N is traveling through the forest, he is attacked by the Shadow Triad. They expect the fight to be quick but N is strong, battling back ferociously. They were ordered not to hurt N but being unable to defeat him, the Shadow Triad barrel through N's Pokémon and take him hostage, forcing his Pokémon to stop fighting in fear of hurting him. N convinces his team that he'll be alright, reluctantly leaving with the Shadow Triad as they disappear into the woods.

N's Pokémon come barreling into Alders home in a panic. Alder can't understand what they are trying to say to him but he realizes that something bad must have happened to N. He contacts all the gym leaders, and they all start a huge search for him.

Eventually Skyla reports back to Alder that during a flight across the region she saw Team Plasma's castle rising up to engulf the Elite four, as well as N being taken into Team Plasma's castle.

Alder comes running up to Drayden after the protag defeats him in Opelucid city, begging him for help. The Team Plasma castle had risen up and trapped the Elite four members within their confines. N had also been kidnapped by Ghetsis. He was gathering all the gym leaders to put a stop to their plan

Meanwhile in the castle, N is locked inside an empty room for multiple days (ironically the room that would have been his childhood room in cannon). He is upset and confused about what is going on, sometimes banging on the door & demanding an explanation while other times trying to reassure himself that he will be rescued. The two sisters come to visit him every once in a while to talk to him about Ghetsis's plans of liberation for the greater good of Pokémon. N is understandably unhappy with his situation but doesn't lash out at the sisters, instead seeing them as misguided. He tries to convince them that their world view is wrong. The two sisters secretly take an interest in N and his ideals, as they start to question their own beliefs with every conversation they have with him.

One day, the sisters come to the door and tell him that Ghetsis has called him to summon the dragon. The sisters guide N to the throne room and are greeted by Ghetsis. They are about to enter together except Ghetsis stops the sisters, takes N and slams the doors shut. The sisters are shocked but realize too late that Ghetsis has just locked them out of the room with the Light stone, leaving N and the dragon alone in his malicious grasp.

Once they are in the room N turns to Ghetsis, demanding an answer for everything. Ghetsis puts on a facade and lies to N, claiming that he is his true father and has been searching for him all this time. N is shocked, falsely believing his words are the truth. Ghetsis explains his plan to liberate Pokémon from people, claiming that Alder is the one that is in the wrong. Ghetsis then asks N to kindly help him free the dragon from the stone, "fulfill his duty as a son of the Harmonia family" so to speak.

N eventually succumbs to Ghetsis's lies and frees Reshiram from the light stone. Ghetsis is overjoyed, having finally gotten the dragon from his plan. He heard from the Shadow Triad that Alder was making his way up the castle, and awaits his arrival. Unbeknownst to them the protag would reach the room first.

The protag makes their way up the castle and stops at this very door, finding A&C helplessly trying to get in. The two queens express their feelings of betrayal. They were expecting to summon the dragon together and witness the start of a better future for Unova. But after Ghetsis locked them out they realized his true intentions were not for good but for evil.

Once the protag breaks in with A&C, they find Ghetsis with Reshiram, and N standing off to the side. Sensing Reshiram, Zekrom awakens from the dark stone in challenge. Ghetsis, angry that the protag has interrupted him, orders Reshiram to attack. The two dragons begin to battle.

Halfway through the battle N calls out to Reshiram to stop fighting. He had been pondering on the side and decided that Ghetsis's ideals were flawed. Ghetsis is shocked and argues back, demanding that N stop this nonsense. But N refuses to back down, deciding that he would rather put his trust into all of the lessons that Alder has taught him over the years. How Pokémon and people are better together and push each other to greater heights. Reshiram stops fighting and flies to N's, putting an end to the battle and leaving Ghetsis's side.

(TW: Violence) Ghetsis is furious. He swings his cane in a fit of rage and strikes N, knocking him to the ground. A&C run forward in a panic but are blocked by Ghetsis's team. The protag attempts to battle him but loses the fight. Ghetsis orders his Pokémon to attack everyone in the room. At this moment, Alder has made his way up to the top of the castle

Alder charges into the room with N's pokemon team by his side. He sees N injured and angrily turns to Ghetsis. Before he can send out his own Pokémon, N's team has already charged forwards and started battling Ghetsis's team. Thematically, N's team is victorious because they have all been raised with care and compassion, not cruelty.

Once Ghetsis's team is defeated, Alder sends out his own Pokémon to surround & prevent him from escaping. However, the Shadow Triad swoop in and take Ghetsis away, leaving behind their Bisharp & Ghetsis's injured team to defend their retreat. Alder makes quick work of the Pokémon but by that time Ghetsis has already escaped

Alder wants to go after Ghetsis but decides to help N first. They embrace and N apologizes for worrying Alder, which Alder immediately dismisses. They get ready to leave and then realize that Anthea and Concordia have disappeared among the chaos.

Aftermath

The gym leaders have rounded up as many grunts as they can and take them away while the castle is abandoned. Ghetsis has fled the castle and his whereabouts are now unknown. The dragons return to their stone forms and peace returns to Unova.

Alder drops the protag off at their house before he then takes N home. N is understandably shaken up about what happened, and now also confused about the information Ghetsis has told him. Alder assures N that Ghetsis isn't his true father, but admits that he doesn't know if N is actually part of the Harmonia family line. N says it doesn't matter, since Alder will always be his true father to him (Alder will definitely not admit that this made him tear up a bit).

One day there is a gentle knock at their door. Alder opens it and is surprised to see the former Queens of Team Plasma at their door. He is a little hesitant to talk to them at first, but they tentatively say that they mean no trouble. After the collapse of Team Plasma they were freed from Ghetsis's control and fled in fear. But now that the castle was abandoned they wanted to learn more about the world they had misunderstood all their lives. They apologized profusely about what happened, saying that they truly had no knowledge of Ghetsis's intentions. N assures Alder that the sisters cared for him back at the castle, and they plan out a little plot of land nearby where the sisters can build a cabin to stay in.

Thus begins a moment of recovery & peace as Team Plasma's presence fades away...for now

[butterflies-dragons]

Hi! What are your favourite quotes/moments that showcase Sansa’s romanticism? 😊

Here we go:

Alone and humiliated, Sansa took the long way back to the inn, where she knew Septa Mordane would be waiting. Lady padded quietly by her side. She was almost in tears. All she wanted was for things to be nice and pretty, the way they were in the songs. Why couldn't Arya be sweet and delicate and kind, like Princess Myrcella? She would have liked a sister like that. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

~~~

"Joffrey, perhaps you would be so kind as to entertain our guest today." "It would be my pleasure, Mother," Joffrey said very formally. He took her by the arm and led her away from the wheelhouse, and Sansa's spirits took flight. A whole day with her prince! She gazed at Joffrey worshipfully. He was so gallant, she thought. The way he had rescued her from Ser Ilyn and the Hound, why, it was almost like the songs, like the time Serwyn of the Mirror Shield saved the Princess Daeryssa from the giants, or Prince Aemon the Dragonknight championing Queen Naerys's honor against evil Ser Morgil's slanders. The touch of Joffrey's hand on her sleeve made her heart beat faster. "What would you like to do?" —A Game of Thrones - Sansa I

~~~

Sansa rode to the Hand's tourney with Septa Mordane and Jeyne Poole, in a litter with curtains of yellow silk so fine she could see right through them. They turned the whole world gold. Beyond the city walls, a hundred pavilions had been raised beside the river, and the common folk came out in the thousands to watch the games. The splendor of it all took Sansa's breath away; the shining armor, the great chargers caparisoned in silver and gold, the shouts of the crowd, the banners snapping in the wind … and the knights themselves, the knights most of all. "It is better than the songs," she whispered when they found the places that her father had promised her, among the high lords and ladies. Sansa was dressed beautifully that day, in a green gown that brought out the auburn of her hair, and she knew they were looking at her and smiling. They watched the heroes of a hundred songs ride forth, each more fabulous than the last. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

~~~

To the other maidens he had given white roses, but the one he plucked for her was red. "Sweet lady," he said, "no victory is half so beautiful as you." Sansa took the flower timidly, struck dumb by his gallantry. His hair was a mass of lazy brown curls, his eyes like liquid gold. She inhaled the sweet fragrance of the rose and sat clutching it long after Ser Loras had ridden off. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa II

~~~

Lord Baelish stroked his little pointed beard and said, "Nothing? Tell me, child, why would you have sent Ser Loras?" Sansa had no choice but to explain about heroes and monsters. The king's councillor smiled. "Well, those are not the reasons I'd have given, but …" He had touched her cheek, his thumb lightly tracing the line of a cheekbone. "Life is not a song, sweetling. You may learn that one day to your sorrow." Sansa did not feel like telling all that to Jeyne, however; it made her uneasy just to think back on it. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

~~~

"Who cares about your stupid dancing master?" Sansa flared. "Father, I only just now remembered, I can't go away, I'm to marry Prince Joffrey." She tried to smile bravely for him. "I love him, Father, I truly truly do, I love him as much as Queen Naerys loved Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, as much as Jonquil loved Ser Florian. I want to be his queen and have his babies." —A Game of Thrones - Sansa III

~~~

Perhaps I will die too, she told herself, and the thought did not seem so terrible to her. If she flung herself from the window, she could put an end to her suffering, and in the years to come the singers would write songs of her grief. Her body would lie on the stones below, broken and innocent, shaming all those who had betrayed her. Sansa went so far as to cross the bedchamber and throw open the shutters … but then her courage left her, and she ran back to her bed, sobbing. —A Game of Thrones - Sansa VI

~~~

"Better if we are never seen together." Nodding, Sansa took a step . . . then spun back, nervous, and softly laid a kiss on his cheek, her eyes closed. "My Florian," she whispered. "The gods heard my prayer." She flew along the river walk, past the small kitchen, and through the pig yard, her hurried footsteps lost beneath the squealing of the hogs in their pens. Home, she thought, home, he is going to take me home, he'll keep me safe, my Florian. The songs about Florian and Jonquil were her very favorites. Florian was homely too, though not so old. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa II

~~~

"I'm honest. It's the world that's awful. Now fly away, little bird, I'm sick of you peeping at me." Wordless, she fled. She was afraid of Sandor Clegane . . . and yet, some part of her wished that Ser Dontos had a little of the Hound's ferocity. There are gods, she told herself, and there are true knights too. All the stories can't be lies. That night Sansa dreamed of the riot again. The mob surged around her, shrieking, a maddened beast with a thousand faces. Everywhere she turned she saw faces twisted into monstrous inhuman masks. She wept and told them she had never done them hurt, yet they dragged her from her horse all the same. "No," she cried, "no, please, don't, don't," but no one paid her any heed. She shouted for Ser Dontos, for her brothers, for her dead father and her dead wolf, for gallant Ser Loras who had given her a red rose once, but none of them came. She called for the heroes from the songs, for Florian and Ser Ryam Redwyne and Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, but no one heard. Women swarmed over her like weasels, pinching her legs and kicking her in the belly, and someone hit her in the face and she felt her teeth shatter. Then she saw the bright glimmer of steel. The knife plunged into her belly and tore and tore and tore, until there was nothing left of her down there but shiny wet ribbons. —A Clash of Kings - Sansa IV

~~~

Ser Dontos disappeared. She could hear him huffing and puffing as he began the descent. Sansa listened to the tolling of the bell, counting each ring. At ten, gingerly, she eased herself over the edge of the cliff, poking with her toes until they found a place to rest. The castle walls loomed large above her, and for a moment she wanted nothing so much as to pull herself up and run back to her warm rooms in the Kitchen Keep. Be brave, she told herself. Be brave, like a lady in a song. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa V

~~~

Her maid rolled herself more tightly in her blanket as the snow began to drift in the window. Sansa eased open the door, and made her way down the winding stair. When she opened the door to the garden, it was so lovely that she held her breath, unwilling to disturb such perfect beauty. The snow drifted down and down, all in ghostly silence, and lay thick and unbroken on the ground. All color had fled the world outside. It was a place of whites and blacks and greys. White towers and white snow and white statues, black shadows and black trees, the dark grey sky above. A pure world, Sansa thought. I do not belong here. Yet she stepped out all the same. Her boots tore ankle-deep holes into the smooth white surface of the snow, yet made no sound. Sansa drifted past frosted shrubs and thin dark trees, and wondered if she were still dreaming. Drifting snowflakes brushed her face as light as lover's kisses, and melted on her cheeks. At the center of the garden, beside the statue of the weeping woman that lay broken and half-buried on the ground, she turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes. She could feel the snow on her lashes, taste it on her lips. It was the taste of Winterfell. The taste of innocence. The taste of dreams. When Sansa opened her eyes again, she was on her knees. She did not remember falling. It seemed to her that the sky was a lighter shade of grey. Dawn, she thought. Another day. Another new day. It was the old days she hungered for. Prayed for. But who could she pray to? The garden had been meant for a godswood once, she knew, but the soil was too thin and stony for a weirwood to take root. A godswood without gods, as empty as me. —A Storm of Swords - Sansa VII

~~~

Alayne took Robert's gloved hand in her own to stop his shaking. "Sweetrobin," she said, "I'm scared. Hold my hand, and help me get across. I know you're not afraid." He looked at her, his pupils small dark pinpricks in eyes as big and white as eggs. "I'm not?" "Not you. You're my winged knight, Ser Sweetrobin." "The Winged Knight could fly," Robert whispered. "Higher than the mountains." She gave his hand a squeeze. Lady Myranda had joined them by the spire. "He could," she echoed, when she saw what was happening. "Ser Sweetrobin," Lord Robert said, and Alayne knew that she dare not wait for Mya to return. She helped the boy dismount, and hand in hand they walked out onto the bare stone saddle, their cloaks snapping and flapping behind them. All around was empty air and sky, the ground falling away sharply to either side. There was ice underfoot, and broken stones just waiting to turn an ankle, and the wind was howling fiercely. It sounds like a wolf, thought Sansa. A ghost wolf, big as mountains. —A Feast for Crows - Alayne II

~~~

It was clever. The tourney, the prizes, the winged knights, it had all been her own notion. Lord Robert's mother had filled him full of fears, but he always took courage from the tales she read him of Ser Artys Arryn, the Winged Knight of legend, founder of his line. Why not surround him with Winged Knights? She had thought one night, after Sweetrobin had finally drifted off to sleep. His own Kingsguard, to keep him safe and make him brave. And no sooner did she tell Petyr her idea than he went out and made it happen. He will want to be there to greet Ser Harrold. Where could he have gone? —The Winds of Winter - Alayne I

~~~

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