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bluebeary-jay · 5 months

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Hold me close and hold me fast

Hi, my darling @always-andromeda!! I'm your secret santa from the space sisters server 🥰 I hope you're having a fantastic day and will enjoy what I wrote for you 💕 I tried to mix fluff and angst into your Joel prompt and it was tricker than I thought it'd be but hopefully I did it justice 😌 I wish you all that's best and happy holidays!!

Summary: It's been a long time since Joel was in any relationship and because of that he has absolutely no clue how to react to your affections. It culminates into an angsty conversation which he wanted to avoid at all costs.

Tags: tooth-rotting fluff, fluff and angst, soft and shy Joel, hurt/comfort, established relationship 💕

Word count: 3.3K

A/N: dividers by @saradika, beta read by @reddedmiller ❤️

Twenty years ago, when the apocalypse started and Joel Miller lost his only daughter, he was certain that he’d never feel happy again. Time didn’t heal his wounds – he still thought like that when he was fighting for survival with Tommy, then when he was doing side jobs with Tess in the QZ… It was never going to get better.

But somehow, as he looked up at the massive tree he just helped the others set up in the middle of the square in Jackson, he realized that it could. It did. Now Joel had a home here. He had his brother back, he had Ellie whom he cared for like his own kid and he had a community that welcomed him into Jackson, people who didn’t know about the horrible things he’d done and therefore didn’t hate him.

“Hi, handsome,” he heard from behind his back and turned around to the most beautiful face in the world – the main source of his newfound happiness. You. His girl. “Are you done with work?”

He nodded with a small smile gracing his lips. You were the newest addition to Joel’s life, but the most precious one in his eyes. Unlike everyone else in Jackson (excluding his brother), you knew all about the sins he’s committed. And yet, you still chose him. Every day you continued to choose him, to envelop him with the warmth of your love which Joel wasn’t sure he deserved.

He’d never tell you, though. Not as long as you kept him in your heart.

“Yeah, no, we’re done. M’pretty sure my back will blow if I have to pick up or carry one more damn thing.”

Right at that moment Tommy walked by with another box full of tree ornaments in his arms, and huffed a laugh when he heard his brother complaining.

“Jesus, Joel, you really are gettin’ old.” He put down the heavy box on the snow and sighed, propping his hands on his hips and nodding at you. “You sure you’ll be able to put up with this grump?”

“Positive.” You climbed onto your tip-toes to press a kiss to Joel’s cheek, and he felt his skin growing hot under your lips. He turned his head to hide the embarrassment evident on his face, missing the slight furrow of your brows, but not missing a hearty laugh his brother let out.

“Aww, is the big, scary man gettin’ all shy from a little kiss on the cheek?”

“Get lost, Tommy.”

Tommy chuckled and bent down to pick up the box again. “By the way, you two have any plans for today? We’re makin’ a screening of some Christmas movies for the kids, and after that the adults will head to the bar. You should come.”

“Well, if you want to?” you directed the careful question to Joel, but he shook his head just slightly, causing you to smile. “But we actually have other plans for tonight.”

That was true, and there was no way Joel would trade those precious hours spent in your company for having to sit – or worse, dance – in a loud room full of half-drunk people.

“Sounds like somethin’ I don’t wanna know about.”

“We’re just gonna bake some cookies for Ellie,” Joel murmured when you bumped his arm lightly with a giggle. The irritation at his brother lessened slightly when he heard the sound of your laughter. “But don’t tell ‘er.”

“My lips are sealed.” Tommy winked at Joel, then shifted his eyes to you. “Enjoy your evening, lovebirds.”

“That’s the plan.” You took Joel’s hand in both of yours, beaming up at him with excitement. “You’re ready?”

“Yeah.” He inconspicuously let go of your hands to brush the arm of your jacket lightly, and then nodded in the direction of his house. “C’mon, darlin’.”

He hoped he wasn’t coming off as too harsh as he hid his gloved hands in the pockets, intending to blame it on the cold in case you asked. But instead of saying anything, you just matched his step and slipped your hands around his arm. Joel went rigid when you leaned your head on his shoulder, the side of your body almost hugging his.

Joel loved you like no one before and until he met you, he hadn’t been this happy in years. But there was a problem, a major one, in your relationship that he didn’t at all know how to address.

Because Joel didn’t have any clue how to react to all your touches.

No matter if they were tender or needy, brief or lasting, he always felt out of his depth. It’s been so long since he actually wanted to be intimate with someone that when the chance arose… he was at loss. You were such an affectionate person and he loved that part of you, he cherished all touches and gestures you graced him with – craved them even – but…

He stole a glance at you, wondering if you could feel the stiffness of his body when you were so close, but it seemed that you were none the wiser. He tried to will his muscles to relax, but it didn’t work and he still felt an uncomfortable feeling crawling up his arm.

The problem wasn’t that he didn’t know what he was supposed to do as your partner, but ever since Sarah died, he hadn’t had an opportunity to show affection to someone. Everything he thought about seemed awkward and incongruous, but he really didn’t want you to think that he was an inexperienced old man who didn’t know how to please – and in your case, love – a woman.

He did. In theory.

So he tried his hardest to show you in other ways how much he cares about you. He brought you gifts, whether they were knickknacks scavenged during his patrols or wooden figurines he made for you. He did what he could to relieve you of your duties, helped around the house and out in the town. He found time during the day to spend with you or at least just talk in passing if you both were busy.

But that still wasn’t enough. He knew that wasn’t enough.

Every damn time you cuddled, every time you kissed him or did something as simple as lay your head on his shoulder, Joel never felt better. He never wanted those moments to end, but at the same time he just couldn’t reciprocate, and it was tearing him apart, because he could see how hurtful it was to you.

“You’re quiet.”

Joel snapped out of his thoughts and looked down at you, noting that you’re almost at his place. He breathed a little lighter when he realized that he managed to go all this way without the need of pulling his arm out of your grasp.

“Is everything alright?” you asked with concern in your beautiful eyes and squeezed his bicep slightly, causing Joel to clench his teeth. “Listen, if you’d prefer to go with Tommy, just tell me…”

“Hey, I’m okay, sweetheart,” he assured you quickly and even managed to smile as if the guilt of not being able to even kiss your forehead wasn’t eating him alive. “There’s no one else I’d rather be with right now.”

“Just right now?” you asked teasingly, and Joel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped him.

“Listen here, you little tease…”

A bright smile returned to your face and you tugged his arm down so your lips could reach his stubbly cheek – and (only a little) reluctantly, he let you kiss him with a huff.

But the guilt of not telling you the true reason of his worries was still swirling in his stomach, making him feel sick for the rest of the way.

An hour and a half later the cookies were already done, and somehow the attempt to clean each other off the flour and the colorful frosting you used to decorate them ended up with you sitting in Joel’s lap, kissing him softly.

Not that he minded.

There was nothing as wonderful as the feeling of your lips on his skin, Joel was sure of it. It’s been an embarrassingly long time since he was with someone that made him feel like a young boy in love again, but your every gesture, every sound coming out of your mouth and every day he got to spend with you was just a confirmation of how lucky he was to have you.

Even now, as you were kissing him slowly and without any rush, he felt butterflies fluttering in his stomach. But while they initially appeared from the happiness and giddiness you were causing in him, the longer your hands wandered – and the longer his stayed uselessly at his sides – the worse and more stressed he felt.

“You know you can touch me, right?” you asked playfully at last, and the pit in Joel’s stomach grew almost tenfold in size. “It’s highly encouraged, actually.”

There was an actual question in your voice, which made him feel even worse. He should’ve known you’d address it eventually – after all, nothing went past you – but it still felt so awfully embarrassing to admit it to you. He was an old man, but felt like an inexperienced teenager who didn’t know how to make a woman feel good.

You moved to kiss him again when he didn’t answer, too lost in his own thoughts, but on instinct Joel pulled back – actually ducked – out of your reach. Immediately regret painted his face at the rejected look in your eyes, and he started to rake his mind in search for something he could do to fix it, but nothing came to him. He knew what you’d want from him – you’d forgive him if he took your face in his hands, kissed you with all his strength, let you know that you did nothing wrong… but it made him nervous just thinking about it, let alone do it.

“Sorry,” he quickly muttered. “I didn’t– didn’t mean to… I’m sorry.”

“Hey, look at me… What’s wrong?” You brushed some hair out of his forehead and Joel exhaled shakily, feeling weak in the knees at your touch. “Talk to me, baby. Did I do something?” Joel shook his head and you pressed your lips together. “Did something happen, then?”

“No.” He shook his head quickly, but he avoided your eyes. “No. Nothin’.”

“Joel…”

The room got too stuffy all of the sudden, the shirt on his back too tight and your body too heavy on his lap. Joel knew he was panicking over nothing, but he couldn’t help it. He didn’t want you to see him like this, so unsure and embarrassed over his own insecurity and behavior… So he gently removed you from his lap and stood up from the couch.

“Sorry, I gotta… I need some air. I’ll be right back, alrigh’?”

“Joel.”

No ‘baby’. No ‘handsome’. The tone of your voice made him stop dead in his tracks, and he turned around to meet your sad, solemn eyes.

“Just tell me if you don’t want me anymore.”

Your voice, so small and weak, took him off-guard and for a couple of seconds Joel wasn’t sure if you really said that, or if it was just his imagination playing cruel tricks on him. He blinked several times, but you were still in front of him, sad and… oh, god, you were on the verge of tears.

“What?” He couldn’t help a curt, disbelieving chuckle that escaped him – which was a terrible reaction, he realized when you turned your head away from him. “I– I don’t understand.”

“You don’t ever want to touch me first.” You let out a shuddering breath and lifted your arm to wipe your eyes, and Joel realized with mortification that he fucking made you cry. “And when you do it’s only when I initiate it, but sometimes you just pull back and it… it makes me feel so unwanted. And I know I might come off as too clingy…”

“Hey, none of that.” Joel quickly made his way to you and sat back down, gazing at you with his brows furrowed in worry. Your face was tearstained already and you avoided looking at him, but didn’t pull back when he took your hand gently in his. “Darlin’...”

“Just tell me if it doesn’t work for you,” you breathed, your voice thick with tears which also welled up in your pretty eyes again. “I hate not knowing if I… if our relationship makes you happy.”

“Of course I’m happy, babygirl.” Joel lifted your hand as if to kiss it, but hesitated. He had half a mind to draw back, but you needed him now, and he needed to prove that he really loved you. So, tentatively, he pressed his inexperienced lips to your fingers, making you look up with suspicion dancing in your irises. “You make me the happiest I’ve ever felt.”

“You’re pretending.” The quiet accusation combined with you withdrawing your hand caused Joel’s heart to break and he opened his mouth to explain, but you didn’t give him a chance to. “I don’t want you to pretend now that I’m upset, I want– Joel, I need you to be honest and tell me if it isn’t working for you. You always move away when I try to hug you and during all this time we’ve been together I can count on one hand the number of times you kissed me first. I don’t…” you choked down a sob and a new wave of tears flew down your cheeks. “I don’t want to waste either of our time if that isn’t what you want. If I’m not what you want–”

“Sweetheart, you’re the only one I want,” Joel whispered with pain in his voice, moving so he could sit closer to you. “M’so very sorry that I wasn’t…” He searched for the right words, but everything felt flat on his tongue. “I’m sorry. For everythin’ I did that made you feel this way.”

“But why?” you asked pathetically, staring at him with defeat and sadness. “You never said anything and I wouldn’t try to touch you so much if you just told me you didn’t like it!”

“I do like it,” he cut you off with a firm tone, which caused you to stop abruptly. “I fuckin’– I love it when you touch me, darlin’. I’m dyin’ for you to keep doin’ it, but I…”

“You what?” you asked, softer this time, and Joel swallowed hard, nervous how you’ll react. But you had the right to know, so ultimately he pushed through his discomfort.

“I just don’t know what to do,” he finally settled on that. “I really, really love when you touch me, babygirl, no matter in what way.” He took another deep breath, bowing his head to look at his hands so that he didn’t have to face you. “But it’s been so long, damn decades, since I… since anyone touched me in the way you do. I never loved someone the way I love you. I’m very sorry, I just don’t know what I’m s’pposed to do… when someone…”

He trailed off, worried that he might break down and cry in front of you if he says another word, and he’d prefer to avoid it at all cost. The world outside was so harsh and cruel already, and you needed someone strong – a safe haven, a pillar you could lean on. He was that someone for everyone around him for the last twenty years, and even longer before the outbreak.

But it was so much different now. You made him feel safe and loved no matter what he could provide to you and it was almost scary how vulnerable he was becoming in your presence.

“...when someone cares for you?” you asked quietly. Joel nodded, and tears gathered in your eyes again, though now for a very different reason. “Oh, Joel…”

“M’sorry,” he whispered, his own vision also going misty. “I want to give you everythin’ you desire, darlin’. If you give me another chance, I promise I’ll try to…” He shook his head, defeated. “I don’t know. I’ll try to get past it.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” You scooted just a little closer and put your hand on his knee lightly. He looked up with anguish swimming in his brown eyes, not believing that you were still here and not already out of the door. You worried your lip between your teeth for a couple of seconds before inhaling deeply. “How about… I show you what to do? We can go as slow as you want.”

Joel slowly shook his head, not understanding. “...show me what?”

“You said you don’t really know what to do, right? So how about I show you exactly how… you know.” You smiled almost shyly, but it only caused Joel’s heart to beat even faster. “Where to put your hands.”

Joel was nodding before you even finished speaking.

It was embarrassing, really, how excited he got at this idea, but just the thought of your hands guiding his, demonstrating where and how to touch you, had him feeling weak in the knees and hot under his clothes. You smiled, almost with relief, and moved even closer until your thighs were touching.

“Here, just relax. We can stop at any time, just say a word,” you said soothingly, placing his palms on your hips and sending him a small smile. Joel wondered if you could see how red his face surely was, feel how sweaty his palms got. “Is this okay?”

“S’better than okay,” he breathed in something akin to wonder. “It’s easier… Everythin’ seems easier with you.” His chest was tight when he looked up at you. “Thank you.”

It wasn’t a lie. You did make it seem effortless, and though Joel could still feel the rigidness of his muscles and tendons, the tension was slowly melting away, replaced by a tingling warmth on his skin.

You gave him a reassuring smile and his eyes flickered to your lips almost involuntary. You noticed it, of course – Joel didn’t think he was exactly subtle with his staring – and cupped his jaw in your hands. His arm, practically instinctively, encircled your waist and pulled you closer before he could stop himself, but you didn’t berate him – in fact, you seemed delighted by his action.

“Now, are you going to kiss me or not?” you whispered coyly, brushing his cheekbones with the pads of your thumbs. Joel chuckled at your attempt to put him more at ease, but it worked and he leaned in to press – very, very carefully – his lips to yours. He felt you smiling against them and his eyes filled with tears from the overwhelming relief.

“I love you so much,” he murmured with his mouth only millimeters from yours. “So much, babygirl.”

You hummed a quiet love you, too, and moved your lips up to softly kiss his eyelids, then temple, then cheeks and nose. Joel almost wanted to cry when you started running your fingers through his hair, massaging his scalp gently. It felt so good, your touch so nice and tender… He couldn’t remember when was the last time someone treated him with such care. Maybe never. “Next time it becomes too much, you tell me, got it? And I promise I’ll make you feel better.”

Your touch didn’t bother him now that he admitted what was weighing heavily on his chest for so long. Now, it felt soothing. Grounding.

So, so loving.

Joel held you closer, melting into your embrace, and claimed your lips in a soft – if not a bit shy – kiss.

There was nothing else he’d rather be doing tonight.

#space sisters secret santa 2023 #joel miller x reader #joel miller #pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #the last of us #the last of us fanfiction #joel miller fluff #joel miller x you

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yourartmatters-itswhatgotmehere · 21 days

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ah all that RWRB joy / RWRB important links in this LONG post♥

edit above of the fans recording THE moment from: https://twitter.com/galitzinerry/status/1789088497879638130 & https://twitter.com/theartim/status/1789082602751873308

-12 mins cast & crew interview here:

-nearly 30mins Q & A from the screening in GREAT quality:

youtube

-ily matthew for saying this:

-my Alex:

-my FIRSTPRINCE:

-FIRSTPRINCE EDITS LINKS (many) :

-Arthur Fox & Henry Fox:

-important RWRB post (lots of links there)

-RWRB deleted scenes:

-RWRB-coming out :

-another IMPORTANT RWRB post:

my RWRB (1) ig highlight: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18198132073262637/

my RWRB (2) ig highlight: https://www.instagram.com/stories/highlights/18037791823861597/

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oldcomputerhardware · 3 months

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30,000 followers?!? Thank You ❤️

Thanks for all the follows, likes and re-blogs. This blog just started out as a scrapbook for old computers and tech that I thought looked cool, I never imagined it would continue to grow like it has. It warms my heart to know that so many other people love the look of old tech 🤗 Tumblr seems to go through peaks and troughs (I'm glad those videos are on their way out!) and every now and then it becomes really seedy (has anyone else noticed this? It's very random and odd!) but through it all there still seems to be cool looking things on here and some fantastic blogs that keep me coming back.

Here is to another 9 years of sharing pictures of tech that just looks too cool for school (…and too cool for the electrical recycling centre!)

All the best, Alan

#thank you

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mcufan72 · 4 months

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Sugar and Cinnamon

Loki x female reader (AU) / 18+

Chapter 3

Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Warnings: none so far, contains fluff, angst, morally grey stuff and smut (eventually), some teasing, sexual tension and some lustful feelings but I think it's still a slow-burn love story.

A/N: I had some struggles writing this down, it took me several days to get it right. Maybe this chapter still sounds better in my head than the written lines. But I hope you all like reading it.

A big thank you @poetic-fiasco 💚❤️ for a phrase you created in a completely different context (you know which phrase I mean) and for allowing me to use it. It's just two words but they fitted perfectly that evening 😅

Loki stood at the floor-to-ceiling windows in the large living room of his penthouse in Jersey City, New Jersey and enjoyed the first rays of sunshine in the morning. He loved the fantastic view from here over the Hudson River to the amazing skyline of Manhattan in the light of the rising sun. How far he had come. He still quarrelled with what he had done to this city and its inhabitants and the sick plans he had to rule this planet as their king. Fortunately, he got stopped right in time, further damage was prevented and after realizing his mistake, a mistake he made because he was being tortured and forced, he got the chance for redemption. He had made good use of it. The beast was annihilated in close combat and not at least because of his help and his extraordinary skills to talk, to lie, to trick, to use his magic and to fight.

In the beginning, many of the Avengers were wary and didn't trust him. But his brother never gave up on him, he never lost his trust in him or the love he had for him. Loki would always be grateful for it and yes, he loved his brother, too. Indeed. After many times in over ten years of proving his loyalty, his sense of justice, his negotiation skills and his will to fight for the right things, literally and figuratively, they all became friends, more or less, and since two years, mostly working as an ambassador and negotiator, he was allowed to live alone without any kind of “babysitting”. Of course, his brother still kept an eye on him and so did Tony Stark. But it became more and more a kind of visiting each other than controlling him. Loki was fine with that. He knew some things needed time to be forgiven and living under the radar when he came back to New York twelve years ago, under a fake name and in solitude, made things easier for him. People came to New York and also left this city again. It happens frequently in a metropolis with millions of population and also people forget easily in the fast pace and hectic of today's time. It also wouldn't be long anymore before he would have served his sentence and he would be free to go wherever he wanted.

While watching the first Staten Island Ferries launching for the Statue of Liberty and just clothed in black sweatpants, one hand in his pocket and a mug of coffee in his other hand, he was thinking of you. He still felt your body and your warmth in his arms. He shouldn't. He decided to live alone, unattached to a woman. He had his brother and his friends and that was already more than he deserved. Also, love and relationships never ended well for him and he was tired of getting his heart broken over and over again. Maybe a sinner like him with blood-drenched hands didn't deserve the love and affection of a woman at all. He was fine with only having sexual affairs from time to time with faceless, nameless women to satisfy his carnal needs.

But it has been a while now since he had a woman tangled in his bedsheets and getting a lusty distraction from his loneliness. He'd love to have physical contact again but not with another faceless woman. If he would share a bed with someone again it had to be you. You had entered his life and he couldn't get you out of his head. He loved your appearance, which was surely a fassade or sort of a costume, he was well aware of that. If there was someone who could relate to it, it was him. There was much more he liked about you, the lovely and decent woman behind that masquerade. He had already seen some tiny little glimpses of the real you, who were shoved into a situation you seemingly never wanted. He liked your attitude, sassy and cute, you were eloquent and smart. You knew what you wanted and what you did not want.

The little mistake you had made at the dining table didn't bother him at all. Nobody is perfect and he knew exactly what he was talking about. It just made you more adorable. But how realistic was his wish to sleep with you? You had made it very clear that you weren't interested in getting sexually involved with him. And he had told you the same. And wouldn't it be inconsequential to change his mind now? He also struggled with the ‘sex-only’-thing when it came to you. Didn't you deserve more and better? You shouldn't sleep with someone like him. Knee-deep in blood, sin and guilt. Guilty of murder. Guilty of having tried to conquer a planet and subjugate the people of Earth against their will. Your people. If you knew his real identity you would hate him. Abysmal hate from the bottom of your heart perhaps. You were an angel and he was the sinner. Heaven and hell. You two had nothing in common, nothing was binding you. You were his escort, his distraction. His distraction from pain and loneliness. And he was just your client, one of many who paid you for your service, who paid the money you urgently needed for who knows what. But he hated that other men touched you, and spent time with you. He knew his blood-drenched hands weren't worthy to touch you at all but other men weren't worthy to touch you either.

Damn, he shouldn't have danced with you. Because now he wanted the feeling of you in his arms over and over again. Yes, it did things to him and that evening, when he physically was so close to you it wasn't easy for him to suppress an erection. But this urge to hold you in his arms again wasn't just sexual. He wanted to feel your warmth, your closeness again and not least he wanted to enjoy your company again. And he wanted to take care of you. A care you surely wouldn't want or need. He didn't deserve you but he wanted you, wanted to be with you, no matter what and he must find a way to avoid that other men would ever lay an eye or a hand on you or take advantage of you.

All of this was the reason why he wanted to book you for next Saturday. He had already sent an email to your agency promptly after your first date and expected the confirmation for the appointment during the day. He would go to the opening of a small art gallery with you, an event he actually didn't want to go to. He didn't really like to go to exclusively social events without a business background. He had decided otherwise now because it was a perfect reason for booking you to escort him to this event …and to see you again. You came into his life and only then he realized how utterly lonely he was. Maybe at least it hadn't been a good decision to live a life in solitude. Should he ask you for a shared night? Would you agree? Would it be too soon and too offensive to ask you? If you'd agree to share the bed with him, you’d have to follow some of his rules because there was still this one thing he could never let you know.

Besides all of this, he would give you all the money you needed without getting anything from you but it seemed you would never take his money without giving something in return. He was sure you wouldn't even ask him for money and you probably had good reasons for it. Loki took a sip of his coffee, reached for a random book on his impressive bookshelf and tried to distract himself by reading a few lines. He made himself comfortable on his sofa and began to read. It didn't work. His thoughts always drifted back to you.

**********************

What should you do now? You sat at the table in your apartment, your lunch untouched on a plate next to you. You weren't hungry. There was a lump in your stomach and it took away your appetite. How should you manage all of this? Your studies, the bills, the increased rent for your apartment and your mum's nursing home, visiting her on Sundays, daily dates with men you had to escort to functions, and from now on appointments for the weekends, too. You should focus on your studies and finish your degree to get back to a serious, well-paid job again. You didn't want to work as an escort lady for the rest of your life. But your study was so expensive that you ran out of money sooner than expected. You still had some saved money but you needed it for something else so you wouldn't touch it.

There have been times when you had all the money and possibilities to afford an apartment like this, your mum's nursing home and the care for her, and a nice life with all its amenities. And because of one silly mistake your whole life crashed down. But maybe you didn't deserve it any better. You sat in front of your laptop and stared at the files of your bank statement and your busy schedule. Now there were some options. There were just two if you were being honest. You could twist and squirm all you want, you wouldn't earn enough money, not even as an escort. You could move into a much cheaper and even smaller apartment which wouldn't be easy in Manhattan, unless you liked to live in a rathole. But you had to try it and in the worst case, you would live in a rathole, for heaven's sake. Also, you could earn some more money a bit faster if you…the thought made you cringe but you had to do it, you had no other choice. But there was only this one man imaginable for you, the one who had told you, he only wanted to be escorted by you and nothing more. And after that dumb mistake at your first real appointment with him, you had been sure you would never see him again. Luke Larsson was a man who didn't accept unprofessionalism. And yet he had been very nice to you and you appreciated it.

You took a sip of your coffee and calculated your financial issues for the umpteenth time. It was to despair. Would you ever find a way out of this fucked up situation? Sometimes you wished you could go back to your little village in the south of Great Britain, back into your little happy bubble, far away from trouble, bad news and harsh reality. Back to the times when you baked cinnamon rolls with your mum every Sunday afternoon. Life was peaceful there but those times were over. Welcome to reality!

Taking another sip of your coffee, you were closing the laptop lid, when a pling was signalling an incoming email. You opened the laptop lid completely again and opened the mail. It was from Rhea. She had promised to send you the further details of Luke's next appointment with you.

Hey dear,

I hope you're doing well. As promised earlier, here's the update for your appointment with Mr. Larsson.

It's on Saturday afternoon and I hope this fits your schedule. It's a gallery opening so I hope this information helps to choose the right clothing appropriate to the occasion.

Mr. Larsson will wait for you at the gallery, Walker will drive you there. He'll pick you up at your home at 3 pm. If you have any further questions, feel free to call me and please mail me your confirmation for this appointment so I can inform Mr Larsson.

PS: please remember the date with Mr Rogers tonight. I'm sorry that he had booked you at short notice. Have fun!

Take care, dear

Rhea

Luke had booked you again. He really wanted you to escort him again and you still couldn't believe it. Thank goodness he was not resentful and hadn't told Rhea about your stupid mistake. He gave you a second chance and you looked forward to seeing him again but you felt nervous at the same time. Things were getting real now. Should you offer him your advanced service? He didn't flirt, that's what he made very clear to you but the way he danced with you and looked at you has been very close to it. And it felt good. You barely remembered when it was the last time someone had looked at you like he did that evening.

Anyway, will he say yes? Why should he say yes and also pay for it? He could have any woman he wanted, they surely lined up at his door to spend a night of debauched passion with him. This man was pure sex. Women probably fling themselves at him daily. Your heart clenched painfully when you pictured him with other women, more lovable and more desirable than you. But you had no right to judge him or the other women for it. You had no right to think and feel like that. At least he was a man with carnal needs. You didn't have an exclusive right to meet him. It was the other way around, he decided if he wanted you to escort him or not. You should better be grateful that Luke wanted to meet you again.

You should give it a try and offer him to sleep with you. Couldn't be that difficult. It was just sex, right? You never cared much about sex, you never understood what the fuss was all about. Your exes never had much patience with you when you needed a bit longer to feel satisfied and maybe you had always been the problem. So what. A quick fuck, in and out and in between moaning a little horny and he would be done in three minutes. You were good at faking orgasms. Pretending you enjoy it as much as he does shouldn't be that difficult for you. He wouldn't even notice it, men never noticed. You always thought you would be too decent for that, having sex with a client but you had already fallen so deep…and fuck decency. Life gave a shit about it…so why should you!

For now, you should focus on your next date tonight, Mr.Rogers. You would meet him at a dancing hall. You like dancing and for now, it would be a good distraction from your current problems. It seemed a bit old-fashioned to go to a dancing bar where they played old classics from the 40's and 50’s but you were sure you would've fun and a decent gentleman at your side tonight. And after tonight you had just one more date and then it would already be Saturday, when you would see Luke again. A little smile curved your lips and you headed to the bathroom to get ready for tonight. It was time for Sugar's performance.

Your date for Friday night got cancelled. You were already waiting at Vivian's Velvet and having your obligatory glass of champagne at the bar when Rhea sent you a message. Your client got ill but maybe he just changed his mind. It didn't happen very often but it happened. Well, you had a free evening now, and you still got paid because it wasn't your fault the date was cancelled so you had some time to think about some rules and boundaries for sexual intercourse with clients. Or should you better say, rules for having sex with Luke? There were definitely some things you wouldn't do and you should be well prepared for a clarifying conversation. No perverse shit, no hard-core sex and the most important thing: no kisses! And falling in love is strictly forbidden, for both sides. Sex only!

You would never fall for a client and you would never fall for Luke Larsson. Not for his stupid, soft obsidian curls, not for his broad shoulders, his strong arms or his long legs, not for his incredible charm, or his beautiful eyes, not for his devastating smile, no matter how handsome he was or how fast he made your heart beating. He was your client and that's all he'll ever be.

On Saturday morning you've gotten up early to have enough time for grocery shopping, doing the dishes and cleaning up your messy apartment. Books and papers for your studies and clothes, your normal ones and those you had worn for your dates, were spread all over the floor, chairs, the table and the sofa. The daily appointments on weekdays had a deep impact on your daily routine. You were so tired sometimes that you didn't have the energy to clean everything up daily. And from now on you won't have the weekends either to relax a little bit. So you were in a hurry now because your appointment was already in the afternoon today and you still had to shower and prepare yourself for the gallery opening. You weren't sure if you were ready to ask Luke if he wanted to sleep with you but you'd definitely ask him. The pressure to earn more money quickly was getting higher and you've come to terms with it that you had to expand your service.

After showering you looked through your closet to find an adequate outfit for a gallery opening. You decided to go for an elegant, refined trouser suit in pastel pink, combined with a white blouse with a deep neckline, and white high heels. Underneath you wore white lace underwear. You loved this sexy set of bra and thong but it let you look more innocent than you were. You hoped Luke would like it, in case he would accept your offer tonight. With your hair in a tight bun with the knot deep in your neck and dark pink lipstick on your lips, Sugar was ready to meet Mr Larsson.

Walker drove you to the gallery where Luke was already waiting for you. Walker got out of the limousine but Loki gestured to him that he wanted to open the door for you. The moment you got out of the backseat and took the hand he was offering you, you were directly under his spell again. He looked so dapper and seductive in his suit which was midnight blue, combined with a tight-fitting white shirt, its collar open, his beautiful neck on perfect display. His look was completed by black Oxfords and a silk scarf around his neck. The scarf shimmered in the darkest shades of blue and green you had ever seen. The scent of his cologne was alluring and you wanted to bury your nose into his soft hair that framed his incredibly beautiful face perfectly. Indeed, he was a god in a suit or maybe he was the devil himself. A handsome devil, seductively hot, ready to take you with him into his den of desire, ready to burn with you in hell. Damn it, your imagination was running too wild.

“Good afternoon, Sugar. Thank you for coming. I'm glad to see you and you look beautiful again”, he greeted you gentlemanly and you came back to reality.

“Good afternoon, Luke. Thank you for your compliment…I think I look a bit like candy floss…,” you answered jokingly and turned in a circle once, a big grin on your face.

“Sorry, I don't quite understand…” Loki said and looked quizzically at you. For him you looked lovely, like a beautiful, sexy angel.

“Candy floss, it's mostly pastel pink and… made of sugar… nah, forget it, it was a bad joke,” you smiled at him and shook your head lightly and Loki smiled back at you. He looked so pretty when he smiled. “Thank you for booking me again. It's a pleasure to accompany you to the opening.” you continued kindly.

“Don't worry, it wasn't a bad joke. I just don't know what candyfloss is and to me, you look beautiful,” he told you. It was what he honestly thought and he could imagine that you probably taste sweet like sugar. “I hope you like art?”

“Oh yes, I do. I'm already excited to have a look at all of the artwork.” You replied genuinely and Loki smiled contentedly at you.

“Then let's go inside,” and he offered you his arm which you took gratefully. It felt so good to touch him.

Inside, you two were greeted by a middle-aged beautiful woman who was the gallery owner and an old friend of Tony Stark. She gave you a short introduction to the artworks in her gallery and that you should feel free to get drinks, canapés and sweets from the buffet. Just from the way she looked at Luke, you could tell she was enchanted by him and you couldn't blame her for it. But you felt something inside of you you should better not feel at all. It felt as if she would take him away from you and he wasn't even a friend of yours. You should better not forget what you were for him. You were his escort, something like a fake date and he was your client. While he was still in conversation with different people who seemed to know him, you strolled through the exhibition until you stood in front of a painting you couldn't keep your eyes off.

*************

Loki tried to end the several conversations he was drawn into, quickly because you were already on your way through the gallery and he wanted to spend the time with you and not with random guests who came to the opening. First, he couldn't find you, there were so many people in there but around the next corner, he finally found you.

You stood in front of a painting you couldn't stop staring at. A painting with a golden elegant vase filled to the brim with all sorts of wildflowers, tulips, roses, daffodils, lilies, and peonies, loosely arranged in it. As elegant as the vase was, as wild and untamed were the flowers. Loki couldn't stop staring at you and enjoying the view of the woman he began to care about. It touched him how fascinated you stared at the painting and how you were able to zone out the world around you. You literally bathed in the effect of the picture which it obviously had on you. He gave you further moments of enjoyment before he walked towards you, his hands in the pockets of his trousers.

“Do you like it?” He asked you politely

“Yes,... it's beautiful. I don't know why, it's just…the flowers, the colours…it just put a spell on me. The flowers are pure life, colourful, beautiful, wild but destined to wither and die because they got cut but still…they are pure beauty and I can literally smell their various wonderful scents.” You were still captivated when you whispered under your breath so Loki couldn't hear it “... and they remind me of home…like your British accent…”

“Yeah, it attracts us, it's winning us all over whether we want it or not. Some things have this effect on us,” he replied and walked closer to you.

Loki had an idea why you liked the painting that much. The motif reminded him of you: elegant and pretty as the vase, and wonderful, wild, free, untamed and colourful as the flowers. But if he would paint this picture of you right now, the vase would lay shattered on the floor and the flowers were crushed and stepped on, everything broken and sad. That's what he saw whenever he looked into your eyes and he wished he could help you with more than just his money.

“Is that so, Luke?” and you turned towards him.

“What do you mean? “ He looked at you from above. He was so tall and so close to you. It was now or never. You knew if you wouldn't do it now, your courage would leave you faster than you could imagine.

“What is it that attracts you?” and your one hand softly caressed his outer thigh, travelled upwards over his really adorable butt, kneading it gently, and then farther upwards to the waistband of his trousers. Your actions went straight to his cock which twitched against the confinement of his slacks. Your gaze was pure seduction and your hand on his body was hot like fire. He grabbed your wrist at lightning speed.

“What are you doing there, Sugar?” he murmured darkly, frowning.

“Testing the waters. Testing if you're really not interested in flirting. I can feel some…tension between us, if you know what I mean,” you whispered and your gaze wandered down from his eyes over his lips and his body to his visible bulge. Were you really capable of doing this to him? Or did he just get hard because you might promise him a quicky? Your gazing down at his manhood didn't go unnoticed by Loki. What were you up to?

“Stop being naughty, Sugar,” he growled darkly.

“Why? Don't you like it when I touch you?”

“We have a deal. Don't forget about that. And besides, you have no idea what you're asking for.”

“Really? Maybe I know exactly what I'm asking for. And deals are negotiable,” your words were dripping like honey from your mouth.

“No! And you have no idea what it means to tease me!” Loki responded firmly.

“Uhhh…now I'm curious. Don't play hard to get, handsome,” you cooed.

You knew you were playing with fire. But didn't all men say things like this? And then they promise you endless pleasure just to be done in three minutes or so, leaving you unpleasured and you were sure he wasn't any different. You were used to it and it didn't matter. But maybe you were completely wrong. Seeing him how aroused he got, aroused you too and you wanted to feel him close. Much closer than you had already felt him when he danced with you. You wouldn't evolve feelings for him, never, absolutely not but all of a sudden your body craved attention, touches and some adoration. Against your expectation, you almost felt bad to let him pay for having sex with you. But you were an escort, not his girlfriend and the escort lady got paid, period!

“Wanna sleep with me tonight?” Your shameless offer caught Loki off guard and he immediately let go of your wrist. He played it cool and his facial expression turned to stone. He couldn't believe that you offered him your body so willingly. He should refuse it. But then you would ask another guy and he couldn't allow that. Who knew how another guy would treat you? He also couldn't deny that he wanted you, that he craved your touch and your attention. But what the hell made you do this?

You grabbed the loose ends of his scarf and pulled his head gently down and him closer towards you so you could speak right into his ear.

“There's nothing to it, Luke. Just two needy bodies, giving each other some pleasure to get some steam off. What do you think? ”

What were you thinking? What if he declined your offer? He could have any woman in this city and he wouldn't even have to pay for it. You weren't any special, just expensive to book, and if he says no you would've made a terrible fool out of yourself.

“I think you still haven't an idea what you're asking for…I'm not a tender lover,” he grumbled.

“It doesn't matter, tenderness is for beginners. I'm not scared of you.”

It was just the half of the truth. It didn't matter because the few men you had been with hadn't been overly tender but you were afraid of him, not in a bad way though. You had a lot of respect for him, he radiated dominance and masculinity and it aroused you, he aroused you and that was what made you fear him. He made you feel good and safe and that scared you.

“Do you offer this…special service of yours to other men, too? Despite that, you told me you're done with men.” He had no right to ask you this. He had no right to be jealous or possessive. He shouldn't go too far, you weren't his and you could do whatever you wanted. But it made his heart clench when he thought about other men touching you.

“If I do, it's none of your business! And I'm free to change my mind about men. I do what I want.” You whispered firmly into his ear.

How dare he ask you that? It was a normal thing many escort ladies did and there was nothing wrong about it. It happened frequently and consensually. But you didn't judge him for that question and it didn't surprise you that he thought you offered sex to your other clients too. He couldn't know you weren't doing it.

“I won't discuss it with you. So, your decision …do you want me or not?” you purred into his ear.

“Are you really sure you want it? If so, to be very clear, don't expect anything more than just the physical act. I just copulate, don't expect any feelings of love from me. Nothing will change that." His voice was pure velvet in your ear and his warm breath fanned over your neck to your cleavage. It made you shiver pleasantly.

“Well, that's fair enough. I'm not looking for love, as you should know.”

“We still see it the same way then.”

“We do, Luke”, and you loosened your grip on his scarf, put your hands on his chest and let them tenderly travel down over his pecs to his midriff before you took them off of his gorgeous body. Even clothed you could feel every perfectly defined muscle.

Loki had goosebumps all over his skin. You made him feel too comfortable around you and to his astonishment, this feeling wasn't just sexual.

“So we have a deal?” you wanted to know.

“We have a deal”, Loki confirmed. Your hands travelling down his torso hadn't helped get rid of his erection, not in the slightest.

“Then let's go to my hotel later. It's one of the best in Manhattan. I'm sure we'll have a lot of fun. Scottish whisky for you, champagne for me and…nearly whatever you want, including me.” You were so nervous. Would he like you? Could you satisfy his needs? How rough would he get? You'd definitely need a glass of champagne before you could let him touch you and a cigarette afterwards.

Nonetheless, you'd try to enjoy it. He was such a gentleman and you were absolutely sure he would treat you well and respectfully. And he smelled so good. It was like a drug. Also, you had some rules and if he wouldn't respect and accept them, you would definitely not sleep with him. And you had Walker, he would always protect you.

“Nearly whatever I want? What does that mean, Sugar?” he questioned softly.

“What I said. But I have rules. Strict rules.”

“Of course, you have. And I have mine. We should talk about them later. I don't think it's the right place here for that”, he whispered.

“Yeah, I suggest we settle the matter later in the hotel. Walker will drive us there”, you offered him.

“That's a good call”, he answered, nodding in agreement.

“Fine.” You licked your lips and bit lightly into your lower lip. Loki gasped inwardly. Why were you doing this? Suddenly he turned his head to the side.

“Is everything okay, Luke?”

“I don't like how that guy looks at you”, Loki growled quietly.

“Which guy?” you wanted to know.

“The guy across from us” and you followed Loki's gaze.

“Let him stare.”

“Absolutely not. You're here with me. No one stares at you like this”, Loki murmured and he put his arm possessively around your middle and pulled you close to his side. Absolutely no one was allowed to look at you like this when you were with him.

“He's just jealous of you, Luke. Maybe he likes my trouser suit...or he's a peeper. Don't worry, I'm still your arm candy”, you tried to calm him down but you couldn't suppress a grin.

If looks could kill, the poor guy would die in an instant. You put an arm around Loki's waist and placed your other hand on his chest. His heart was beating so fast, like yours and you both looked at the guy. Loki with a death stare and you with a bright smile. You loved this game you played together. And it made your heart swell that he got angry just because of a random guy who looked at you. None of your exes had been like this. Under different circumstances, you two would be a wonderful couple. The guy immediately looked away, obviously feeling embarrassed and frightened, and turned around.

“Would you please take your hand from my chest?”

“Just in case you let go of my waist.” you offered him sweetly.

“Sorry, I didn't want to…” and he cleared his throat.

“It's okay, Luke, don't worry. We're going to get much closer tonight…Shall we look for some canapés and drinks? It seems, you could need a cooling down”, you said with a quick look at his crotch. Was there a rosy shade on his perfect cheeks? “…oh and I want a dessert…”, and you took him by his hand and pulled him with you to the buffet.

“You and your desserts”, he laughed, amused.

“You should try them some day”, you smiled brightly at him.

“No, thanks, I'm good”, Loki answered, trying to sound serious.

After having some drinks and snacks, you ate the final bite of your dessert and licked the last bits off of the spoon and your lips. Loki was wondering if you did it on purpose. It seemed you liked to tease him and to add to the sexual tension that was obviously still buzzing between you two. It was still palpable. You knew how to seduce and it made you even more desirable.

“Shall we have a look at the other works in the gallery before we leave? I'd like to see them.”

“Anything you want, Sugar. We have time, don't we?”

“I hope so…or are you eager to get to the hotel soon” you teased him.

“I might be horny but I can control myself.”

“Really? That's rare. Most men can't wait to blow their load,” you answered lasciviously and smiled knowingly. You wondered where your self-confidence came from. The thing that was to come was new terrain for you. Shouldn't you feel more nervous? But maybe this was just how you tried to downplay your nervousness.

Loki smirked and rolled his eyes.

“You really amaze me. You're such a beautiful and decent woman but you've such a filthy mouth.”

If only he knew. If you ever have been decent, your decency would soon be gone. At the latest when he fucked you. He would see you differently then and maybe he would also lose his respect for you. And that was one of your biggest fears.

🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹🥂🥃🌃🌹

Tag list:

@lokisprettygirl @faesimps @anukulee @fictive-sl0th @fandxmslxt69 @chantsdemarins @justjoanne242 @gruftiela @stupidthoughtsinwriting @wheredafandomat @lovingchoices14 @lokixryss @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @km-ffluv

#loki x female reader #loki x reader #loki x you #loki x reader fluff #loki laufeyson #loki x reader fic #loki x reader angst #loki x reader smut #loki x female reader fluff #loki #loki x female reader angst #loki x female reader smut #loki x fem!reader #Spotify

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dozing-marshmallow · 5 months

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can i request for a readerx chris mclean. who is the epitomie of a sweetheart and a beyond angelic wife, also a total thicc trophy wife? Like she is so caring towards anyone and anything that even the coldest of hearts melts in her presence. When she's there, everyone's day is 100% made and she's the highlight of the day without even trying.

Chris is whipped for her and will always embrace her when he can. He always wants to finish early to spend more time w his beloved wife.

And she even gets to cook delicious and nutritious food for the contestants for a week straight because she feels bad for them, and chef is beyond delighted to have her be a helping hand in the kitchen with him. She even sneaks some before bed fruit snacks in case they are still a lil hungry.

So essentially, thicc! wife reader part 2. Got you!💛 First post of the new year! I hope everyone’s been having a fantastic start and may lots of love, good health and happiness find you all! Surround yourself with good people, use the time you have wisely and take good care of yourself!❤️

CHRIS MCLEAN’S “THICC”! WIFE! READER HEADCANONS PART 2

Even the coldest of hearts melt in your presence.

Like one morning, Heather was the first one up and in the mess hall, possibly to strategise.

“Good morning, Heather!” you beamed at the “Queen Bee” girl,“Very nice day today, isn’t it?”

“It was.” She replied, delight caught up in her throat as though you were ugliness itself.

“Ah, you mean I ruined your morning? Sorry sorry...” you kept your smile,“I’ll excuse myself.” You were busy anyway.

You were making your way out when she grabbed your arm,“I didn’t mean that... Sorry.”

As one of the few people she didn’t mind, you had to say,“You’re forgiven!”

Although the day’s grazing challenge was over, Chris wasn’t moving on; he was standing there, with a chunk of his consciousness drained out his face until an unconscious part of him must have realised the dozens of eyes on him.

“What? Is there something on my face?” he inquired to the teenagers, giving himself a reason to be self conscious.

They looked among themselves puzzled,“Um... Isn’t this the part where you tell us to vote for someone to go home?” no one would ever have thought the day would come where a contestant is reminding the host of his job.

That’s what was so concerning? Because he didn’t tell them something they already knew?,“Yeah yeah, yawn. Go then!” what a wasteful reason to pause on his marriage daydream.

Timeskip to that episode’s elimination ceremony. The teens were left more confused on their seats of wood, with the goth girl being the one to voice why.

“Um... Where’s Chris?”

Appalled, Chef clicked his tongue in reply,“You blind, girl? Chris is right-“ the co-host rotates around, not expecting Chris to suddenly own an empty flour bag of a head sitting on a neck of straw and arms skinned down to indefinitely stretched out sticks.

That thing couldn’t be Chris. It was too elegant,“...Oh.”

The real Chris was running to the mess hall where you always were every evening, sweeping the floor.

“Chris! You’re already here?”

“Why wouldn’t I be!” he asked, ushering your voluptuous figure against his,“Ah... I can never get tired of you.”

“Aw me neither, but...don’t you have an elimination ceremony to host?” It was usually his favourite part of the episode, unless you misheard and it was a reward challenge...?

“Nahh. Chef will handle that, I wanted to see you more.” ...never mind then! He lets go of you and then noticed the worn out broomstick in your hand,“You know you don’t need to do that.”

“Ohh but it’s okay!” you grinned, kissing him on his smooth cheek,“Anything for my husband!”

Choosing to stay up later against your husband’s pleas, it was just you and Chef in the kitchen, organising, cleaning.

You peered down at the large pot of sticky looking gruel that Chef must have prepared in advance for the kids. Your nostrils burn. You’ve tolerated them eating like that for weeks, but it’s Sunday, the end of another week. Maybe you could do something different.

Chef approaches the side of the kitchen that you’re at, so you turn to him having just seen the meal,"Oh Chef, do you really want to serve all this inedible slop? They’ve been eating that for weeks... Who knows how bad their health will be by the time they’re our age? How about for one week, we make them some nice delicious nutritious food?" Just one week!,“They deserve a chance to be healthy!”

To your surprise, that suggestion went under his approval very quickly via his nodding and dropping a clashing tower of dirty dishes in the sink,“I gotta admit, I was thinkin’ about doing that for a while now. But Chris would cut my pay down even more!”

Ah! You shake your head in disbelief,“He’s still underpaying you? I’ll have a word with him about that in the morning!”

But he too shook his head, taking a look in the fridge for some ingredients,“I’m used to it, but I appreciate it. No one else ever cares for the damn things I do for this show.”

“And that’s not okay!” you exclaim passionately, coming up next to him, speculating the contents of the fridge,“You can’t just let all this hard work go unseen! Did Chris ever give you that vacation?”

“Uh uh!” in remembered anger, he slams the fridge door close,“Guy went without me! Been searching for him for weeks just to hear that!”

You gasp. No way Chris coincidentally forgot that detail when he went on that “solo” trip... How devastating!,“That’s just cruel, even for him! You know what, you have worked really hard. You deserve a good paid month off!”

His anger condensed,“Oh no, I can’t... What would Chris do?”

“I’ll talk to him.” you pull onto his arm, getting him to look at you,“You will get all the checks you missed and the vacation you deserve. I promise.”

“I...” his face softens into a smile. Not the taunt you in your nightmares smile, the real show of gratitude,“Thank you, (Y/N).”

“It’s nothing!” you’ll make sure it’ll happen, grabbing a ladle,“For now, shall we begin making these fantastic wonderful meals for our fantastic wonderful contestants?”

He nods, smirking as he grabs a knife.

The next few days were Heaven for the contestants. You haven’t seen them this happy since their individual teams win! Heck, they were asking for seconds, and they never ask for seconds!

Your husband observes them filling their stomachs up as quickly as they were filling their plates.

“You mad at me?” you asked him, smiling.

“Nah.” He responds, tracing his lips on your neck,“I could never be mad at you.”

He was mad at Chef though.

Kidding!

“After this, you cannot make anything else for them, okay?” he instructed after pulling away from the kiss, still having a very short distance between your faces.

“Okaaaay.” your answer was melodic in amusement.

“(Y/N).” his wasn’t, causing you to look into his eyes for a repeat of command. However, all you got was another kiss to your lips.

Oh, love!

Though, on a serious note, you had your stash of fruit snacks for them, hidden in Chef’s cabinet that was still declining in quantity.

“Have this in case you’re still hungry.” you whispered, handing a colourful packet to the party boy one time.

“Are you sure? Did Chris say it’s cool?” he asked cautiously.

You shut an eyelid,“He doesn’t have to know.” Technically, you weren’t making them food.

Well, if his wife says so... “Thanks, (Y/N)!” Geoff gladly receives it, later privately remarking and sharing with DJ,“(Y/N)’s a real gem, you know? We can’t be taking her for granted. She could have been as bad as Chris man!”

DJ would add on, stirring in his bunk,“She’s not a gem. That’s an Angel.”

#chris mclean #total drama #request #td chris #total drama island chris #total drama chris mclean #tdi x reader #chris mclean x reader #td chris mclean x reader #tdi #wife reader

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jaydick-week · 1 month

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❤️💙 JAYDICK WEEK 2024 has concluded! 💙❤️

After a lovely week full of art and fic, this year’s WIP BASH has now come to a (sort of) end. Thank you to all our participants for sharing your wonderful works, and to all our followers for supporting these great writers and artists. As always, we have been blown away by your enthusiasm!

There have been so many amazing works shared with us these past week, some of which may still come! If you like what you’ve seen or read, please make sure to reblog, follow, comment, and leave kudos. Support content creators!

Don’t forget that everyone who posts a work and fills out this form will be entered to win a digital bundle of Nighthood! So fill out the form if you haven't already!

To view all of the works submitted so far check out these links:

☆ AO3 Collection ☆ 2024 Posts ☆ JayDick Week Twitter

Another reminder that late entries are ALWAYS welcome! The AO3 collection will remain open and while the mods will no longer be checking the tags, you are more than welcome to mention us @jaydick-week so that we can share your entry here. Every day is a good day to work on your WIPs!

While the event has officially concluded, make sure to check back soon for additional entries, upcoming events, and more previews of our zine merch!

Thank you again to all our contributors. We hope you had a fantastic time, and that you’ll join us again for next year’s event (which should be back to our regular format). You all are amazing! ❤️💙

#jaydick #dickjay #jaydickweek #jaydickweek2024 #jaydick week wip bash #updates #jaydick week 2024

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istumpysk · 11 months

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

TWOW: Alayne I (Sansa I)

My little lovebug! ❤️

She's finally here! 🥺

To celebrate, I might just copy and paste the whole gosh darn thing. You've been warned.

Ladies and gentlemen, brace yourselves for the mind-blowing, heart-stopping, epic conclusion of Operation Stumpy Re-Read Project!

Before we dive in, we need to revisit a theory that I proposed in Jon X, ADWD.

The last time we saw Jon's and Sansa's points of view in the same book was A Storm of Swords. You might recall the deliberate placement of their back-to-back chapters was anything but subtle.

The text was often copied verbatim, the situations were perfectly mirrored, and the topics of love, marriage, and family were prevalent in both.

You can view a quick summary of it all here.

That brings us to this chapter. Some of you might not be aware, but George was originally planning to put Alayne I in A Dance with Dragons.

That Sansa chapter I talked about finishing, for instance. It's still finished, but my editor and I decided it belongs in THE WINDS OF WINTER, not A DANCE WITH DRAGONS, so it's been moved into the next book. Sansa will not appear in DANCE. - Not a Blog

Based on the intentional placement of previous Jon and Sansa chapters, I have hypothesized that it should be possible to determine the original planned position of this Alayne chapter.

Below, I will do my best to argue Alayne I, TWOW was originally indented to appear directly before Jon X, ADWD.

Alright, it's time!

She was reading her little lord a tale of the Winged Knight when Mya Stone came knocking on the door of his bedchamber, clad in boots and riding leathers and smelling strongly of the stable. Mya had straw in her hair and a scowl on her face. That scowl comes of having Mychel Redfort near, Alayne knew.

I'm so slow, I'm only now picking up on the vague hints of Jon and Sansa's connection from the highborn-lowborn divide between Mya and Mychel Redfort.

She sounded so like Sansa, so happy and innocent with her dreams. Catelyn smiled, but the smile was tinged with sadness. The Redforts were an old name in the Vale, she knew, with the blood of the First Men in their veins. His love she might be, but no Redfort would ever wed a bastard. His family would arrange a more suitable match for him, to a Corbray or a Waynwood or a Royce, or perhaps a daughter of some greater house outside the Vale. - Catelyn VI, AGOT

She even had a king for a dad!

+.+.+

Why did she have to mention Harry? Alayne thought. We will never get Sweetrobin out of bed now. The boy slapped a pillow. "Send them away. I never asked them here." Mya looked nonplussed. No one in the Vale was better at handling a mule, but lordlings were another matter. "They were invited," she said uncertainly, "for the tourney. I don't…" Alayne closed her book. "Thank you, Mya. Let me talk with Lord Robert, if you would."

Oh look, 13-year-old Sansa is acting 24 again, and can I just mention she's absolutely fantastic at managing her son cousin.

+.+.+

"I hate that Harry," Sweetrobin said when she was gone. "He calls me cousin, but he's just waiting for me to die so he can take the Eyrie. He thinks I don't know, but I do." "Your lordship should not believe such nonsense," Alayne said. "I'm sure Ser Harrold loves you well." And if the gods are good, he will love me too. Her tummy gave a little flutter.

Back to 13.

Just like Arya and Mercy, you can still find traces of Sansa in Alayne.

+.+.+

"I don't want you to marry him, Alayne. I am the Lord of the Eyrie, and I forbid it." He sounded as if he were about to cry. "You should marry me instead. We could sleep in the same bed every night, and you could read me stories."

In the future, it might be a good idea to ensure that Jon and Sweetrobin are kept apart at all times.

+.+.+

No man can wed me so long as my dwarf husband still lives somewhere in this world.

I don't know about that.

"Hush, you'll be the death of us. I did nothing. Come, we must away, they'll search for you. Your husband's been arrested."

"Tyrion?" she said, shocked.

"Do you have another husband? The Imp, the dwarf uncle, she thinks he did it." - Sansa V, ASOS

When Her Grace suggested that she would be pleased to help arrange marriages for his sons to the daughters of great southern lords, Lord Stark refused brusquely. "We keep the old gods in the North," he told the queen. "When my boys take a wife, they will wed before a heart tree, not in some southron sept." - Fire & Blood

+.+.+

Alayne stroked his fingers. "There, my Sweetrobin, be still now." When the shaking passed, she said, "You must have a proper wife, a trueborn maid of noble birth." "No. I want to marry you, Alayne." Once your lady mother intended that very thing, but I was trueborn then, and noble.

Trust me, this is less than nothing, we're only warming up. I can do way better than this.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"Who brings this woman to be wed?" asked Melisandre.

"I do," said Jon. "Now comes Alys of House Karstark, a woman grown and flowered, of noble blood and birth." - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

Alayne smoothed his hair. Lady Lysa had never let the servants touch it, and after she had died Robert had suffered terrible shaking fits whenever anyone came near him with a blade, so it had been allowed to grow until it tumbled over his round shoulders and halfway down his flabby white chest. He does have pretty hair. If the gods are good and he lives long enough to wed, his wife will admire his hair, surely. That much she will love about him.

Mounting evidence that Sansa is plotting to kill Robert Arryn.

Why would he fear a blade?

+.+.+

"The Lord of the Eyrie can do as he likes. Can't I still love you, even if I have to marry her? Ser Harrold has a common woman. Benjicot says she's carrying his bastard." Benjicot should learn to keep his fool's mouth shut.

Lmao.

+.+.+

"Is that what you would have from me? A bastard?" She pulled her fingers from his grasp. "Would you dishonor me that way?" The boy looked stricken. "No. I never meant —" Alayne stood. "If it please my lord, I must go and find my father. Someone needs to greet Lady Waynwood." Before her little lord could find the words to protest, she gave him a quick curtsy and fled the bedchamber [...].

Masterfully done!

This is why I can't have children, I would have locked him in a closet.

+.+.+

When she had left Petyr Baelish that morning he had been breaking his fast with old Oswell who had arrived last night from Gulltown on a lathered horse.

Did you know that the number of references to Oldtown gradually increases from book to book until it surges in A Storm of Swords, right before the city is formally introduced at the beginning of A Feast for Crows?

Gulltown is on a similar trajectory. The city is referenced nine times in this chapter alone. Nine.

+.+.+

Though snow had blanketed the heights of the Giant's Lance above, below the mountain the autumn lingered and winter wheat was ripening in the fields.

For timeline purposes: Sansa is lagging behind where Brienne and Jon currently are in the story.

Snow in the riverlands. If it was snowing here, it could well be snowing on Lannisport as well, and on King's Landing. Winter is marching south, and half our granaries are empty. Any crops still in the fields were doomed. [...] "I know," Jaime said, "there has been a white raven from the Citadel. Winter has come." - Jaime VII, AFFC

+.+.+

Alayne loved it here. She felt alive again, for the first since her father… since Lord Eddard Stark had died.

Stop.

+.+.+

She hoped they might still be talking, but Petyr's solar proved empty. Someone had left a window open and a stack of papers had blown onto the floor. [...] She closed the window, gathered up the fallen papers, and stacked them on the table. One was a list of the competitors. Four-and-sixty knights had been invited to vie for places amongst Lord Robert Arryn's new Brotherhood of Winged Knights, and four and-sixty knights had come to tilt for the right to wear falcon’s wings upon their warhelms and guard their lord.

It is widely speculated she saw something she shouldn't have, but hasn't fully grasped the significance yet.

Did you know there's 64 squares on a chessboard?

+.+.+

The competitors came from all over the Vale, from the mountain valleys and the coast, from Gulltown and the Bloody Gate, even the Three Sisters. Though a few were promised, only three were wed; the eight victors would be expected to spend the next three years at Lord Robert's side, as his own personal guard (Alayne had suggested seven, like the Kingsguard, but Sweetrobin had insisted that he must have more knights than King Tommen), so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

We love a petty king.

so older men with wives and children had not been invited.

Perfect for Blackfish! Where is that former Knight of the Gate? I know he's coming, the ellipsis of truth tells no lies.

And if Ser Brynden should survive this siege, he might be inclined to claim Riverrun in his own name . . . or in the name of young Robert Arryn. - Jaime V, AFFC

Where else is he supposed to go?

Edit:

Oh! @decadelongsummer reminded me that Jaime I, ADWD would have come before this. (<- <- <-)

"Might the Blackfish seek refuge at Raventree?"

"He might seek it, but to find it he'd need to get past my siege lines, and last I heard he hadn't grown wings. [...]" - Jaime I, ADWD

+.+.+

"They're young, eager, hungry for adventure and renown. Lysa would not let them go to war. This is the next best thing. A chance to serve their lord and prove their prowess. They will come. Even Harry the Heir." He had smoothed her hair and kissed her forehead. "What a clever daughter you are."

I will turn your liver into paste, and feed it to cats.

+.+.+

"What a clever daughter you are." It was clever.

✨ Clever girl! ✨

Dontos chuckled. "My Jonquil's a clever girl, isn't she?" - Sansa IV, ACOK

"There's a clever girl." He smiled, his thin lips bright red from the pomegranate seeds. - Sansa VI, ASOS

"[...] It was clever of you to see it. Though no more than I'd expect of mine own daughter." - Sansa I, AFFC

Sers, the Lady Alayne, my natural and very clever daughter . . . - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

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.

Sounds like something a queen might be responsible for planning.

Unreliable narrator Sansa Stark (or George R. R. Martin). Ser Artys Arryn was not the legendary Winged Knight from the Age of Heroes. Two different people.

I don't know if this is important or not, but while reading the history of Ser Artys, a few things stuck out.

Leading the attack was a champion in silvered steel, with a moon-and-falcon on his shield and wings upon his warhelm. Ser Artys Arryn had clad one of his knights retainer in his spare suit of armor, leaving him in camp whilst he himself took his best horsemen up and around a goat track that he remembered from his childhood, so they might reappear behind the First Men and descend on them from above. - The World of Ice and Fire

While fighting King Robar II Royce, Ser Artys used a decoy of himself, while he snuck up and around a goat track that he remembered from his childhood.

What's interesting about that is that Roose Bolton uses a decoy in ADWD, which fools Ramsay.

When the rider in the dark armor removed his helm, however, the face beneath was not one that Reek knew. Ramsay's smile curdled at the sight, and anger flashed across his face. "What is this, some mockery?" - Reek II, ADWD

But what really stands out is the goat tracks. I know a character who has deep appreciation for goat tracks being used during war.

"Goat tracks?" The king's eyes narrowed. "I speak of moving swiftly, and you waste my time with goat tracks?"

"When the Young Dragon conquered Dorne, he used a goat track to bypass the Dornish watchtowers on the Boneway." - Jon IV, ADWD

I don't know. It involved knights from the Vale, so it made me pause.

+.+.+

Lord Nestor was showing Lady Waxley his prize tapestries, with their scenes of hunt and chase. The same panels had once hung in the Red Keep of King's Landing, when Robert sat the Iron Throne. Joffrey had them taken down and they had languished in some cellar until Petyr Baelish arranged for them to be brought to the Vale as a gift for Nestor Royce. Not only were the hangings beautiful, but the High Steward delighted in telling anyone who'd listen that they had once belonged to a king.

It's the conclusion of the most anticlimactic side plot in the entire series.

"Not as yet. In truth, he seems quite unconcerned. His last letter mentions the rebels only briefly before beseeching me to ship him some old tapestries of Robert's." - Cersei IV, AFFC

Petyr laughed. "Perhaps I shall. Or better still, to our sweet Cersei. Though I should not speak harshly of her, she is sending me some splendid tapestries. Isn't that kind of her?" - Alayne I, AFFC

This is nothing. It's only meant to showcase how Littlefinger purchases the loyalty of others.

+.+.+

At the north end of the yard, three quintains had been set up, and some of the competitors were riding at them. Alayne knew them by their shields; the bells of Belmore, green vipers for the Lynderlys, the red sledge of Breakstone, House Tollett’s black and grey pily. Ser Mychel Redfort set one quintain spinning with a perfectly placed blow. He was one of those favored to win wings.

Showing off, as per usual. She's only doing this to make Arya look bad.

+.+.+

"The Lord Protector's daughter," the bald knight announced, all hearty gallantry. He rose ponderously. "And full as lovely as the tales told of her, I see." Not to be outdone, the pimply knight hopped up and said, "Ser Ossifer speaks truly, you are the most beautiful maid in all the Seven Kingdoms." It might have been a sweeter courtesy had he not addressed it to her chest. "And have you seen all those maids yourself, ser?" Alayne asked him. "You are young to be so widely travelled."

"You are even lovelier than I was told, princess," he declared. "The queen has told me much and more of your beauty."

"How odd, when she has never seen me." - Jon XI, ADWD

+.+.+

Alayne could not help but shutter. Myranda's husband had died when he was making love with her. "Those Sistermen who came in yesterday were gallant," she said, to change the subject. "If you don't like Ser Ossifer or Ser Uther, marry one of them instead. I thought the youngest one was very handsome." "The one in the sealskin cloak?" Randa said, incredulous. "One of his brothers, then." Myranda rolled her eyes. "They're from the Sisters. Did you ever know a Sisterman who could joust? They clean their swords with codfish oil and wash in tubs of cold seawater." “Well,” Alayne said, “at least they're clean.”

"Some of them have webs between their toes. [...]"

Uh huh.

Listen to me. Listen to me.

You know why this is here.

Davos: I:

Wink, wink, nudge, nudge.

Remind me, what did we learn in Davos I?

To get home and call his banners, Stark had to cross the mountains to the Fingers and find a fisherman to carry him across the Bite. A storm caught them on the way. The fisherman drowned, but his daughter got Stark to the Sisters before the boat went down.

[...]

Our maester urged us to send Stark's head to Aerys, to prove our loyalty. It would have meant a rich reward.

[...]

That was when Stark said, 'In this world only winter is certain. We may lose our heads, it's true … but what if we prevail?' My father sent him on his way with his head still on his shoulders. 'If you lose,' he told Lord Eddard, 'you were never here.'" - Davos I, ADWD

Right, exactly. Go ahead and remind us of the Three Sisters in a Sansa chapter, George. Nobody can figure out where this is going.

+.+.+

"Some of them have webs between their toes. I'd sooner marry Lord Petyr. Then I'd be your mother. How little is his finger, I ask you?"

Alayne did not dignify that question with an answer.

Totally normal thing you might ask his daughter.

+.+.+

"Is that a promise or a threat?" Myranda said. "The first Lady Waynwood must have been a mare, I think. How else to explain why all the Waynwood men are horse-faced? If I were ever to wed a Waynwood, he would have to swear a vow to don his helm whenever he wished to fuck me, and keep the visor closed." She gave Alayne a pinch on the arm.

Um, I have a theory!

"No," Catelyn agreed. "You must name another heir, until such time as Jeyne gives you a son." She considered a moment. "Your father's father had no siblings, but his father had a sister who married a younger son of Lord Raymar Royce, of the junior branch. They had three daughters, all of whom wed Vale lordlings. A Waynwood and a Corbray, for certain. The youngest . . . it might have been a Templeton, but . . ." - Catelyn V, ASOS

+.+.+

"My Harry will be with them, though. I notice that you left him out. I shall never forgive you for stealing him away from me. He's the boy I want to marry."

"The betrothal was my father's doing," Alayne protested, as she had a hundred times before. She is only teasing, she told herself… but behind the japes, she could hear the hurt.

We can't be certain, but she doesn't give off the same vibes as the other Myranda on the show.

+.+.+

Alayne could not see the front of his shield from where she stood, but his attacker bore three ravens in flight, each clutching a red heart in its claws. Three hearts and three ravens. She knew right then how the fight would end. A few moments later and the big man sprawled dazed in the dust with his helm askew. When his squire undid the fastenings to bare his head, there was blood trickling down his scalp. If the swords had not been blunted, there would be brains as well. That last head blow had been so hard Alayne had winced in sympathy when it fell. Myranda Royce considered the victor thoughtfully. "Do you think if I asked nicely Ser Lyn would kill my suitors for me?" "He might, for a plump bag of gold." Ser Lyn Corbray was forever desperately short of coin, all the Vale knew that.

Based on my powerful foresight, I predict that Lyn Corbray will exhibit violent tendencies in the future, possibly while utilizing his Valyrian steel sword.

Don't ask me who the victim will be.

+.+.+

There is truth in that, Alayne thought, but some demon of mischief was in her that morning, so she gave Ser Lyn a thrust of her own. Smiling sweetly, she said, "My lord father tells me your brother's new wife is with child." Corbray gave her a dark look. "Lyonel sends his regrets. He remains at Heart's Home with his peddler's daughter, watching her belly swell as if he were the first man who ever got a wench pregnant." Oh, that's an open wound, thought Alayne. Lyonel Corbray's first wife had given him nothing but a frail, sickly babe who died in infancy, and during all those years Ser Lyn had remained his brother's heir. When the poor woman finally died, however, Petyr Baelish had stepped in and brokered a new marriage for Lord Corbray. The second Lady Corbray was sixteen, the daughter of a wealthy Gulltown merchant, but she had come with an immense dowry, and men said she was a tall, strapping, healthy girl, with big breasts and good, wide hips. And fertile too, it seems. "We are all praying that the Mother grants Lady Corbray an easy labor and a healthy child," said Myranda. Alayne could not help herself. She smiled and said, "My father is always pleased to be of service to one of Lord Robert's leal bannermen. I'm sure he would be most delighted to help broker a marriage for you as well, Ser Lyn." "How kind of him." Corbray's lips drew back in something that might have been meant as a smile, though it gave Alayne a chill. "But what need have I for heirs when I am landless and like to remain so, thanks to our Lord Protector? No. Tell your lord father I need none of his brood mares." The venom in his voice was so thick that for a moment she almost forgot that Lyn Corbray was actually her father's catspaw, bought and paid for. Or was he? Perhaps, instead of being Petyr's man pretending to be Petyr's foe, he was actually his foe pretending to be his man pretending to be his foe.

Uh oh, Nostradamus senses something. There she goes leaking the plot again!

The king's own fool, the pie-faced simpleton called Moon Boy, danced about on stilts, all in motley, making mock of everyone with such deft cruelty that Sansa wondered if he was simple after all. - Sansa II, AGOT

Sansa shuddered. Every time she looked at Ser Ilyn Payne, she shivered. - Sansa III, AGOT

Varys was wringing his soft hands together, Grand Maester Pycelle kept his sleepy eyes on the papers in front of him, but she could feel Littlefinger staring. Something about the way the small man looked at her made Sansa feel as though she had no clothes on. Goose bumps pimpled her skin. - Sansa IV, AGOT

For his sigil he had taken a bloody spear, gold on a night-black field. The sight of it raised goose prickles up and down Sansa's arms. - Sansa V, AGOT

Ser Boros was short-tempered, Ser Meryn cold, and Ser Mandon's strange dead eyes made her uneasy - Sansa I, ACOK

"I don't want to." Lollys clutched at her maid, a slender, pretty girl with short dark hair who looked as though she wanted nothing so much as to shove her mistress into the dry moat, onto those iron spikes. "Please, please, I don't want to." - Sansa V, ACOK

Besides, the lords of the Trident were sworn to Riverrun and House Tully, and to the King in the North; they would never accept Littlefinger as their liege. Unless they are made to. Unless my brother and my uncle and my grandfather are all cast down and killed. The thought made Sansa anxious, but she told herself she was being silly. - Sansa VIII, ACOK

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. - Sansa I, ASOS

Believe in Sansa. The bottom line is that Lyn Corbray is a problem, and he's not as loyal to Littlefinger as Littlefinger thinks. Where this goes, I couldn't tell you.

(I desperately wanted to highlight every instance of Daenerys incorrectly reading someone, but I chose to be an adult.)

+.+.+

Alayne turned abruptly from the yard… and bumped into a short, sharp-faced man with a brush of orange hair who had come up behind her. His hand shot out and caught her arm before she could fall. "My lady. My pardons if I took you unawares." "The fault was mine. I did not see you standing there." "We mice are quiet creatures." Ser Shadrich was so short that he might have been taken for a squire, but his face belonged to a much older man. She saw long leagues in the wrinkles at the corner of his mouth, old battles in the scar beneath his ear, and a hardness behind the eyes that no boy would ever have. This was a man grown. Even Randa overtopped him, though. "Will you be seeking wings?" the Royce girl said. "A mouse with wings would be a silly sight." "Perhaps you will try the melee instead?" Alayne suggested. The melee was an afterthought, a sop for all the brothers, uncles, fathers, and friends who had accompanied the competitors to the Gates of the Moon to see them win their silver wings, but there would be prizes for the champions, and a chance to win ransoms. "A good melee is all a hedge knight can hope for, unless he stumbles on a bag of dragons. And that's not likely, is it?"

Speaking of problems.

You know who Varys is, I trust? The eunuch has offered a plump bag of gold for this girl you've never heard of. I am not a greedy man. If some oversized wench would help me find this naughty child, I would split the Spider's coin with her. - Brienne I, AFFC

The following is speculative, but also highly rational in my opinion.

It would be incredibly illogical for the author to introduce Ser Shadrich in Brienne's first chapter, reveal his objective to the reader, have him show up in the Vale near the same book's conclusion, clearly signal to the reader that he's correctly identified Sansa, and then proceed to not utilize him in any meaningful way. This is not what a red herring looks like.

There's probably a reason why Brienne's been gifted the knowledge of his appearance, and his objective. Brienne may not know what Alayne looks like, but she does know what Ser Shadrich looks like.

There's probably a reason why Brienne gauges both of their fighting skills while anticipating a potential encounter. (Come on.)

The Mad Mouse, she thought, at her first sight of him. Somehow he's followed me. Her hand went to her sword hilt, and she found herself wondering if Ser Shadrich would think her easy prey just because she was a woman. [...] If it was Ser Shadrich dogging her heels, she might well have a fight on her hands. She did not intend to partner with the man or let him follow her to Sansa. He had the sort of easy arrogance that comes with skill at arms, she thought, but he was small. I'll have the reach on him, and I should be stronger too. - Brienne II, AFFC

We watched Brienne intercept a Stark daughter three different times on the show.

None of these scenes can happen in the books, but we already know the show creators drew inspiration from canon events, and assigned different characters to the roles.

They gave the role of Biter to the Hound and made Brienne fight him, do you not think it's also possible one of these scenes is inspired by Brienne intercepting Shadrich and Sansa in the books?

"But Brienne's currently captured by Lady Stoneheart near Pennytree, and has a broken arm and face!"

Sansa's 👏 and 👏 Brienne's 👏 storylines 👏 aren't 👏 synchronized.

He told us what Brienne would do! He told us!

The Eyrie would be simpler, and Lady Lysa would surely welcome her sister's daughter . . .

Ahead, the alley bent. Somehow Brienne had taken a wrong turn. She found herself in a dead end, a small muddy yard where three pigs were rooting round a low stone well.

[...]

"I was looking for the Seven Swords."

"Back the way you come. Left at the sept."

"I thank you." Brienne turned to retrace her steps, and walked headfirst into someone hurrying round the bend. - Brienne II, AFFC

Brienne 👏 will 👏 escape! She'll 👏 turn 👏 back!

+.+.+

They made a race of it, dashing headlong across the yard and past the stables, skirts flapping, whilst knights and serving men alike looked on, and pigs and chickens scattered before them. It was most unladylike, but Alayne sound found herself laughing. For just a little while, as she ran, she forget who she was, and where, and found herself remembering bright cold days at Winterfell, when she would race through Winterfell with her friend Jeyne Poole, with Arya running after them trying to keep up.

Always nice seeing her act her age.

+.+.+

Harry the Heir, Alayne thought. My husband-to-be, if he will have me. A sudden terror filled her. She wondered if her face was red. Don't stare at him, she reminded herself, don't stare, don't gape, don't gawk. Look away. Her hair must be a frightful mess after all that running. It took all her will to stop herself from trying to tuck the loose strands back into place. Never mind your stupid hair. Your hair doesn't matter. It's him that matters. Him, and the Waynwoods. Ser Roland was the oldest of the three, though no more than five-and-twenty. He was taller and more muscular than Ser Wallace, but both were long-faced and lantern-jawed, with stringy brown hair and pinched noses. Horsefaced and homely, Alayne thought. Harry, though… My Harry. My lord, my lover, my betrothed.Ser Harrold Hardyng looked every inch a lord-in-waiting; clean-limbed and handsome, straight as a lance, hard with muscle. Men old enough to have known Jon Arryn in his youth said Ser Harrold had his look, she knew. He had a mop of sandy blond hair, pale blue eyes, an aquiline nose. Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that’s what he was. Little Lord Tyrion was kinder, twisted though he was.

Wow, how much do you love that?

Sansa directly compares the horse-faced Waynwoods, who have Stark lineage and were once potential heirs to Robb, to the more attractive Harry Hardyng (aka Joffrey).

I'm sorry, you have to see this:

Un-fucking-real. So close. They're always so close.

Yeah guys, why isn't she thinking about Arya? It's obvious we're supposed to be thinking about Arya during this passage. The author's intentions here are clear, the subtext is Arya. Sansa comparing these Stark-ish, likable Waynwood men to the comely yet rude Harry the Heir is totally about Arya. Arya's written all over this. We're so clever to see it.

Side note,

Joffrey was comely too, though, she reminded herself. A comely monster, that's what he was.

"Beauty can be treacherous. My brother learned that lesson from Cersei Lannister. [...]." - Jon XI, ASOS

Love when my babies both learn about beauty's hidden dangers!

+.+.+

"I look forward to a spirited discussion." Ser Roland swung down from his horse, turned to Alayne, and smiled. "I had heard that Lord Littlefinger's daughter was fair of face and full of grace, but no one ever told me that she was a thief." "You wrong me, ser. I am no thief!" Ser Roland placed his hand over his heart. "Then how do you explain this hole in my chest, from where you stole my heart?"

Man, these horsey Waynwoods are crushing hard on Sansa. hehehehe.

Instead, he blamed Jon Snow and wondered when Jon's heart had turned to stone. - Samwell III, AFFC

+.+.+

"You are in the Falcon Tower, Ser Harrold," Alayne put in. Far away from Sweetrobin. That was intentional, she knew. Petyr Baelish did not leave such things to chance. "If it please you, I will show you to your chambers myself." This time her eyes met Harry's. She smiled just for him, and said a silent prayer to the Maiden. Please, he doesn't need to love me, just make him like me, just a little, that would be enough for now. Ser Harrold looked down at her coldly. "Why should it please me to be escorted anywhere by Littlefinger's bastard?"

+.+.+

A lady's armor is her courtesy. Alayne could feel the blood rushing to her face. No tears, she prayed. Please, please, I must not cry. "As you wish, ser. And now if you will excuse me, Littlefinger's bastard must find her lord father and let him know that you have come, so we can begin the tourney on the morrow." And may your horse stumble, Harry the Heir, so you fall on your stupid head in your first tilt. She showed the Waynwoods a stone face as they blurted out awkward apologies for their companion. When they were done she turned and fled. Near the keep, she ran headlong into Ser Lothor Brune and almost knocked him off his feet. "Harry the Heir? Harry the Arse, I say. He's just some upjumped squire." Alayne was so grateful that she hugged him. "Thank you. Have you seen my father, ser?"

Oopsie daisy, Nostradamus has returned.

The most terrifying moment of the day came during Ser Gregor's second joust, when his lance rode up and struck a young knight from the Vale under the gorget with such force that it drove through his throat, killing him instantly. The youth fell not ten feet from where Sansa was seated. The point of Ser Gregor's lance had snapped off in his neck, and his life's blood flowed out in slow pulses, each weaker than the one before. His armor was shiny new; a bright streak of fire ran down his outstretched arm, as the steel caught the light. Then the sun went behind a cloud, and it was gone. His cloak was blue, the color of the sky on a clear summer's day, trimmed with a border of crescent moons, but as his blood seeped into it, the cloth darkened and the moons turned red, one by one. - Sansa II, AGOT

"Look at that upjumped oaf," Joff hooted, loud enough for half the yard to hear.

[...]

I hope he falls and shames himself, she thought bitterly. I hope Ser Balon kills him. When Joffrey proclaimed her father's death, it had been Janos Slynt who seized Lord Eddard's severed head by the hair and raised it on high for king and crowd to behold, while Sansa wept and screamed.

Morros dropped his lance, fought for balance, and lost. One foot caught in a stirrup as he fell, and the runaway charger dragged the youth to the end of the lists, head bouncing against the ground. Joff hooted derision. Sansa was appalled, wondering if the gods had heard her vengeful prayer. - Sansa I, ACOK

At the last possible instant, Ser Humfrey's [Hardyng] stallion reared away from the oncoming point, eyes rolling in terror, but too late, Aerion's lance took the animal just above the armor that protected his breastbone, and exploded out of the back of his neck in a gout of bright blood. Screaming, the horse crashed sideways, knocking the wooden barrier to pieces as he fell. Ser Humfrey [Hardyng] tried to leap free, but a foot caught in a stirrup and they heard his shriek as his leg was crushed between the splintered fence and falling horse. - The Hedge Knight

A knight from the Vale.

Correctly predicting it will happen to an upjumped oaf.

A Hardyng.

There are two certainties in this life: death and Harrold Hardyng falling off his horse. (Plenty of people don't pay their taxes.)

+.+.+

The vaults were large and dark and filthy. Alayne lit a taper and clutched her skirt as she made the descent. Near the bottom, she heard Lord Grafton's booming voice, and followed. "The merchants are clamoring to buy, and the lords are clamoring to sell," the Gulltowner was saying when she found them. Though not a tall man, Grafton was wide, with thick arms and shoulders. His hair was a dirty blond mop. "How am I to stop that, my lord?" "Post guardsmen on the docks. If need be, seize the ships. How does not matter, so long as no food leaves the Vale." "These prices, though," protested fat Lord Belmore," these prices are more than fair." "You say more than fair, my lord. I say less than we would wish. Wait. If need be, buy the food yourself and keep it stored. Winter is coming. Prices must go higher." "Perhaps," said Belmore, doubtfully. "Bronze Yohn will not wait," Grafton complained. "He need not ship through Gulltown, he has his own ports. Whilst we are hoarding our harvest, Royce and the other Lords Declarant will turn theirs into silver, you may be sure of that."

I smell converging storylines!

Our best hope may be the Eyrie. The Vale of Arryn was famously fertile and had gone untouched during the fighting. Jon wondered how Lady Catelyn's sister would feel about feeding Ned Stark's bastard. - Jon IV, ADWD

Someone cut Littlefinger's head off, so everyone can eat.

Anyway, there's more Gulltown. Gulltown, Gulltown, Gulltown!

She might do better to take ship for Gulltown or White Harbor. I could do both, though. - Brienne II, AFFC

If the Stinking Goose yields nothing, I will take passage on a ship, she decided. Gulltown was only a short voyage away. From there she could make her way to the Eyrie easily enough. - Brienne III, AFFC

"Gulltown next," her captain told her, "thence around the Fingers to Sisterton and White Harbor, if the storms allow. She's a clean ship, 'Strider, not so many rats as most, and we'll have fresh eggs and new-churned butter aboard. Is m'lady seeking passage north?"

"No." Not yet. She was tempted, but . . . - Brienne V, AFFC

NOT YET. NOT YET! GULLTOWN -> SISTERTON -> WHITE HARBOR. HE TOLD US. HE FORESHADOWS EVERYTHING. IT'S RIGHT THERE.

+.+.+

"And is Ser Harrold with them?" Horrible Ser Harrold. "He is." Lord Belmore laughed. "I never thought Royce would let him come. Is he blind, or merely stupid?" "He is honorable. Sometimes it amounts to the same thing. If he denied the lad the chance to prove himself, it could create a rift between them, so why not let him tilt? The boy is nowise skilled enough to win a place amongst the Winged Knights."

Gosh, since his introduction, it seems like we've been constantly reminded that this upjumped squire is rather inept when it comes to sports.

"Our cousin Bronze Yohn had himself a mêlée at Runestone," Myranda Royce went on, oblivious, "a small one, just for squires. It was meant for Harry the Heir to win the honors, and so he did." - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

"Come," Petyr said, "walk with me." He took her by the arm and led her deeper into the vaults, past an empty dungeon.

I will cut your eyelids off.

+.+.+

"Yes," she said, "but why must he be so cruel? He called me your bastard. Right in the yard, in front of everyone." "So far as he knows, that's who you are. This betrothal was never his idea, and Bronze Yohn has no doubt warned him against my wiles. You are my daughter. He does not trust you, and he believes that you're beneath him." "Well, I'm not. He may think he's some great knight, but Ser Lothor says he's just some upjumped squire."

Sansa's acquiring a new perspective through experiential learning: understanding the bastard experience. Aww. <3

+.+.+

Petyr put his arm around her. "So he is, but he is Robert's heir as well. Bringing Harry here was the first step in our plan, but now we need to keep him, and only you can do that. He has a weakness for a pretty face, and whose face is prettier than yours? Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him."

Getting to the good stuff.

I'll tell you one thing, I have more faith in Sansa successfully accomplishing this than 6-year-old Alys Karstark.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how."

Aye, but now you're almost six-and-ten, and we must pray you will know how to charm your new husband. - Jon X, ADWD

I've said it a million times in other Sansa chapters, so I won't elaborate, but if you truly believe Littlefinger's plan is to wed Catelyn 2.0 to imitation Brandon Stark, you might be out of your mind.

Petyr put his arm around her.

I will pluck every hair from your head, and genitals.

+.+.+

"I don't know how," she said miserably. "Oh, I think you do," said Littlefinger, with one of those smiles that did not reach his eyes.

Excluding the instance where she copied Harry's words, that is the only time she calls him Littlefinger in this chapter.

She hasn't forgotten.

+.+.+

"You will be the most beautiful woman in the hall tonight, as lovely as your lady mother at your age. I cannot seat you on the dais, but you'll have a place of honor above the salt and underneath a wall sconce. The fire will be shining in your hair, so everyone will see how fair of face you are. Keep a good long spoon on hand to beat the squires off, sweetling. You will not want green boys underfoot when the knights come round to beg you for your favor." "Who would ask to wear a bastard's favor?"

"Harry, if he has the wits the gods gave a goose… but do not give it to him. Choose some other gallant, and favor him instead. You do not want to seem too eager."

I'd be hesitant to allow fire to shine in Sansa's hair.

This feels like a developing story. I'd love to know who is getting this favor if it's not Harry the Arse.

He had worn her favor in the Battle of the Blackwater, where he'd slain a Myrish crossbowman and a Mullendore man-at-arms. "Alyn said her favor made him fearless," said Megga. "He says he shouted her name for his battle cry, isn't that ever so gallant? Someday I want some champion to wear my favor, and kill a hundred men." - Sansa II, ASOS

"Saving yourself for Lord Robert?" Lady Myranda teased. "Or is there some ardent squire dreaming of your favors?" - Alayne II, AFFC

Edmure escorted her up the water stair and across the lower bailey, where Petyr Baelish and Brandon Stark had once crossed swords for her favor. - Catelyn XI, AGOT

+.+.+

"Lady Waynwood will insist that Harry dance with you, I can promise you that much. That will be your chance. Smile at the boy. Touch him when you speak. Tease him, to pique his pride. If he seems to be responding, tell him that you are feeling faint, and ask him to take you outside for a breath of fresh air. No knight could refuse such a request from a fair maiden."

The above won't happen, but in her next chapter, I'll be super on edge whenever she's exposed and there aren't many people around.

+.+.+

Petyr drew her close and kissed her on both cheeks. "The night belongs to you, sweetling, Remember that, always."

I will make you deepthroat a cactus.

+.+.+

The feast proved to be everything her father promised. Sixty-four dishes were served, in honor of the sixty-four competitors who had come so far to contest for silver wings before their lord. From the rivers and the lakes came pike and trout and salmon, from the seas crabs and cod and herring. Ducks there were, and capons, peacocks in their plumage and swans in almond milk. Suckling pigs were served up crackling with apples in their mouths, and three huge aurochs were roasted whole above firepits in the castle yard, since they were too big to get through the kitchen doors. Loaves of hot bread filled the trestle tables in Lord Nestor's hall, and massive wheels of cheese were brought up from the vaults. The butter was fresh-churned, and there were leeks and carrots, roasted onions, beets, turnips, parsnips. And best of all, Lord Nestor's cooks prepared a splendid subtlety, a lemon cake in the shape of the Giant's Lance, twelve feet tall and adorned with an Eyrie made of sugar. For me, Alayne thought, as they wheeled it out. Sweetrobin loved lemon cakes too, but only after she told him that they were her favorites. The cake had required every lemon in the Vale, but Petyr had promised that he would send to Dorne for more.

A splendid subtlety, lol.

Nice, Littlefinger gifted her a giant penis. I wonder if the ones from Dorne taste any better. (I'm sorry.)

Look, it's a feast!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

The stewards began to bring out the first dish, an onion broth flavored with bits of goat and carrot. Not precisely royal fare, but nourishing; it tasted good enough and warmed the belly. Owen the Oaf took up his fiddle, and several of the free folk joined in with pipes and drums. The same pipes and drums they played to sound Mance Rayder's attack upon the Wall. Jon thought they sounded sweeter now. With the broth came loaves of coarse brown bread, warm from the oven. Salt and butter sat upon the tables. - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

When the last course had been served and cleared, the tables were lifted from their trestles to clear the floor for dancing, and musicians were brought in.

[...] "As am I," Coldwater said. Rising, he offered Alayne his hand. "Would you honor me with this dance, my lady?" "You're very kind," she said, as he led her to the floor. He was her first partner of the evening, but far from the last. Just as Petyr had promised, the young knights flocked around her, vying for her favor. After Ben came Andrew Tollett, handsome Ser Byron, red-nosed Ser Morgarth, and Ser Shadrich the Mad Mouse. Then Ser Albar Royce, Myranda's stout dull brother and Lord Nestor's heir. She danced with all three Sunderlands, none of whom had webs between their fingers, though she could not vouch for their toes. Uther Shett appeared to pay her slimy compliments as he trod upon her feet, but Ser Targon the Halfwild proved to be the soul of courtesy. After that Ser Roland Waynwood swept her up and made her laugh with mocking comments about half the other knights in the hall. His uncle Wallace took a turn as well and tried to do the same, but the words would not come. Alayne finally took pity on him and began to chatter happily, to spare him the embarrassment. When the dance was done she excused herself, and went back to her place to have a drink of wine.

Oh my goodness, they're dancing! Ser Jon Waynwood sounds like a hoot.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

The queen's men outnumbered the queen's ladies three to one, so even the humblest serving girls were pressed into the dance. After a few songs some black brothers remembered skills learned at the courts and castles of their youth, before their sins had sent them to the Wall, and took the floor as well. That old rogue Ulmer of the Kingswood proved as adept at dancing as he was at archery, no doubt regaling his partners with his tales of the Kingswood Brotherhood, when he rode with Simon Toyne and Big Belly Ben and helped Wenda the White Fawn burn her mark in the buttocks of her highborn captives. Satin was all grace, dancing with three serving girls in turn but never presuming to approach a highborn lady.

[...]

"You could dance with me, you know. It would be only courteous. You danced with me anon."

"Anon?" teased Jon.

"When we were children." She tore off a bit of bread and threw it at him. "As you know well."

"My lady should dance with her husband." - Jon X, ADWD

Dance with me, Jon Snow! You'll dance with me anon.

Don't be offended Alys, you're not the right partner.

When the musicians began to play, she timidly laid her hand on Tyrion's and said, "My lord, should we lead the dance?"

His mouth twisted. "I think we have already given them sufficent amusement for one day, don't you?" - Sansa III, ASOS

And neither was he.

I won't get too deep into each dance partner, because this post is long enough, but I'm sure you can see there's more than a few allusions to Jon (Coldwater, Tollett, Ser Byron, Royce, etc.).

Read more here:

Allusions to Jon in The Dance Partners of TWOW, Alayne I (@cappymightwrite)

+.+.+

And there he stood, Harry the Heir himself; tall, handsome, scowling. "Lady Alayne. May I partner you in this dance?" She considered for a moment. "No. I don't think so." Color rose to his cheeks. "I was unforgivably rude to you in the yard. You must forgive me." "Must?" She tossed her hair, took a sip of wine, made him wait. "How can you forgive someone who is unforgivably rude? Will you explain that to me, ser?" Ser Harrold looked confused. "Please. One dance."

Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him. "If you insist."

Boo, hiss. Wrong dance partner!

She'll talk circles around you if you let her.

+.+.+

He nodded, offered his arm, led her out onto the floor. As they waited for the music to resume, Alayne glanced at the dais, where Lord Robert sat staring at them. Please, she prayed, don’t let him start to twitch and shake. Not here. Not now. Maester Coleman would have made certain that he drank a strong dose of sweetmilk before the feast, but even so.

Oh good, the doctor who keeps tempting fate is back.

Just give him a cup of the sweetmilk before we go, and another at the feast, and there should be no trouble."

"Very well." They paused at the foot of the stairs. "But this must be the last. For half a year, or longer." - Alayne II, AFFC

+.+.+

Instead she said, "I have heard that you are about to be a father." It was not something most girls would say to their almost-betrothed, but she wanted to see if Ser Harrold would lie. "For the second time. My daughter Alys is two years old."

Your bastard daughter Alys, Alayne thought, but what she said was, "That one had a different mother, though."

What a totally unique name we've given this kid!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?" - Jon X, ADWD

Did I say he's Brandon Stark? I meant Brandon Stark with a little hint of Robert Baratheon.

+.+.+

"Yes. Cissy was a pretty thing when I tumbled her, but childbirth left her as fat as a cow, so Lady Anya arranged for her to marry one of her men-at-arms. It is different with Saffron." "Saffron?" Alayne tried not to laugh. "Truly?" Ser Harrold had the grace to blush. "Her father says she is more precious to him than gold. He's rich, the richest man in Gulltown. A fortune in spices." "What will you name the babe?" she asked. "Cinnamon if she's a girl? Cloves if he's a boy?"

That roast is worthy of applause.

Fun words are everywhere!

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

"Hobb's mulled some wine with cinnamon and cloves. That'll warm us some."

"What's cloves?" asked Owen the Oaf. - Jon X, ADWD

+.+.+

"Saffron is very beautiful, I'll have you know. Tall and slim, with big brown eyes and hair like honey." Alayne raised her head. "More beautiful than me?" Ser Harrold studied her face. "You are comely enough, I grant you. When Lady Anya first told me of this match, I was afraid that you might look like your father." "Little pointy beard and all?" Alayne laughed. "I never meant..." "I hope you joust better than you talk."

I am extremely confident he does not.

Are tall girls with honey in their hair his type? Too bad.

+.+.+

For a moment he looked shocked. But as the song was ending, he burst into a laugh. "No one told me you were clever."

✨ Clever girl! ✨

Melisandre closed her eyes, remembering. "West."

"She is not coming up the kingsroad, then. Clever girl. [...]" - Melisandre I, ADWD

+.+.+

He has good teeth, she thought, straight and white. And when he smiles, he has the nicest dimples. She ran one finger down his cheek. "Should we ever wed, you'll have to send Saffron back to her father. I'll be all the spice you'll want." He grinned. "I will hold you to that promise, my lady. Until that day, may I wear your favor in the tourney?" "You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

Before I get to the last bit, can I tell you something?

I read a sizeable amount of fandom commentary on this chapter, and not one single person contemplated who she's saving her favor for. It didn't come up once.

People are either deliberately avoiding asking themselves that question, or they believe the ending of this chapter is insignificant, and the topic won't resurface again. I'm not sure which one annoys me more.

+.+.+

"You may not. It is promised to… another." She was not sure who as yet, but she knew she would find someone.

Now turn the page.

(-> -> -> Jon X?)

It's the Alys Karstark x Sigorn wedding chapter! Yay.

Interestingly, in the first few pages of that chapter, the author intentionally creates an initial impression that it's Jon Snow who is marrying Alys Karstark. Curious, isn't it?

Let's discuss what we know about the bride, who the author led us to believe Jon Snow was marrying.

According to the fandom, Alys Karstark is Jon Snow's girl in grey. Small problem with that, she never wears grey, and never travels near a body of water to get to Castle Black.

"I saw water. Deep and blue and still, with a thin coat of ice just forming on it. It seemed to go on and on forever."

"Long Lake. What else did you see around this girl?" - Melisandre I, ADWD

However, she was fleeing from a forced marriage. Her great-uncle has assumed the role of Lord of Karhold, and made her a match, despite lacking any rightful claim to the land or castle.

Your uncle … would that be Lord Arnolf?" "He is no lord," Alys said scornfully. [...] Uncle Arnolf is only castellan. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Lysa was murdered before the document could be presented for her signature, so I signed as Lord Protector. I knew that would have been her wish." - Sansa I, AFFC

The marriage is to her uncle, Cregan Karstark. Sorry, I should clarify this uncle isn't actually her uncle, it's just what they call him.

He's my great-uncle, actually, my father's uncle. Cregan is his son. I suppose that makes him a cousin, but we always called him uncle. Now they mean to make me call him husband. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Wed?" Sansa was stunned. "You and my aunt?" - Sansa VI, ASOS

"I am Alayne, Father. Who else would I be?" - Sansa I, AFFC

Perhaps you're wondering how we arrived at this point. Long ago, Alys' father desired her to marry the future Lord of Winterfell. Unfortunately, at that time, she was too young to captivate him with her charm.

"It is my own fault. My lord father told me I must charm your brother Robb, but I was only six and didn't know how." - Jon X, ADWD

↓

Charm him. Entrance him. Bewitch him. "If you insist." - Alayne I, TWOW

Instead, she was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood, and they were patiently awaiting her coming of age.

Before the war I was betrothed to Daryn Hornwood. We were only waiting till I flowered to be wed - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

If they do that … why, then we shall know that there is no taint in your blood, and when you come into the flower of your womanhood, you shall wed the king in the Great Sept of Baelor, before the eyes of gods and men. - Sansa IV, AGOT

Sadly, Daryn Hornwood died in the war. Rickard Karstark was forced to find her another lord to marry.

My father wrote that he would find some southron lord to wed me, but he never did. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

When you're old enough, I will make you a match with a high lord who's worthy of you, someone brave and gentle and strong. - Sansa III, AGOT

Of course all that went to shit when Rickard Karstark got his head cut off.

Your brother Robb cut off his head for killing Lannisters. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"But they have the soft hearts of women. So long as I am your king, treason shall never go unpunished. Ser Ilyn, bring me his head!" - Arya V, AGOT

Now, it's worth mentioning that Alys' older brother Harrion is the rightful heir to Karhold. However, if he were to die, Alys would inherit Karhold, which ambitious men like her uncles are aware of.

Should my brother die, Karhold should pass to me, but my uncles want my birthright for their own. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"But he does not know you," Dontos insisted, "and he will not love you. Jonquil, Jonquil, open your sweet eyes, these Tyrells care nothing for you. It's your claim they mean to wed."

[...]

She never thought to have a claim, but with Bran and Rickon dead . . . It doesn't matter, there's still Robb, he's a man grown now, and soon he'll wed and have a son. - Sansa II, ASOS

"The man who weds Sansa Stark can claim Winterfell in her name," his uncle Kevan put in. "Had that not occurred to you?" - Tyrion IV, ASOS

"Winterfell has withstood fiercer enemies than me. It is Winterfell, is it not?"

"Yes," Sansa admitted.

He walked along outside the walls. "I used to dream of it, in those years after Cat went north with Eddard Stark. In my dreams it was ever a dark place, and cold." - Sansa VII, ASOS

Thankfully, most people in this story are familiar with the rules of succession.

If her brother is dead, Karhold belongs to Lady Alys. - Jon X, ADWD

↓

Jon said, "Winterfell belongs to my sister Sansa." - Jon IV, ADWD

Hence, the arranged marriage. Enter Cregan Karstark, a dangerous man who covets her birthright. He has a dark history, having buried multiple wives, and he would no longer need Alys if she ever had his child.

Once Cregan gets a child by me they won't need me anymore. He's buried two wives already. - Jon IX, ADWD

↓

"Only Cat." He gave her a short, sharp shove.

Lysa stumbled backward, her feet slipping on the wet marble. - Sansa VII, ASOS

Arya's gone, the same as Bran and Rickon, and they'll kill Sansa too once the dwarf gets a child from her. - Catelyn V, ASOS

Fear not, for this story finds a happy ending. Before her not-uncle can get his hands on her, our hero Jon Snow intervenes and arranges a marriage between Alys and a wildling, ensuring her safety and happiness.

"So," said Alys, as Jon poured, "I am now a woman wed. A wildling husband with his own little wildling army." - Jon X, ADWD

↓

I see what you are, Snow. Half a wolf and half a wildling, baseborn get of a traitor and a whore. - Jon X, ADWD

The guy is such a white knight, he even daydreams of gifting her Cregan's head! (Thank you @that-plo-koon for that one.)

I should make his head a wedding gift for Lady Alys and her Magnar, Jon thought, but dare not take the risk. - Jon X, ADWD

↓

[...] wishing she could hurt him, wishing that some hero would throw him down and cut off his head. - Sansa VI, AGOT

"Tromp tromp I'm a giant, I'm a giant," he chanted. "Ho ho ho, open your gates or I'll mash them and smash them." - Sansa VII

[...]

A mad rage seized hold of her. She picked up a broken branch and smashed the torn doll's head down on top of it, then pushed it down atop the shattered gatehouse of her snow castle. The servants looked aghast, but when Littlefinger saw what she'd done he laughed. "If the tales be true, that's not the first giant to end up with his head on Winterfell's walls." - Sansa VII, ASOS

Isn't that a great story? Other than a few amusing nuggets, that mostly covers everything.

My brother Harry is the rightful lord - Jon IX, ADWD [Brother Harry]

↓

"Harry the Heir?" - Alayne II, AFFC [Father Harry]

Jon turned to Alys Karstark. "My lady. Are you ready?" - Jon X, ADWD [Sister Alys]

↓

Your bastard daughter Alys, Alayne thought - Alayne I, TWOW [Daughter Alys]

So that's Alys Karstark, the girl George had us believing Jon Snow was marrying, in a chapter likely intended to follow this one.

While we're on the topic of that Jon Snow fakeout wedding, can I tell you what my favourite passage was?

The girl smiled in a way that reminded Jon so much of his little sister that it almost broke his heart. "Let him be scared of me." The snowflakes were melting on her cheeks, but her hair was wrapped in a swirl of lace that Satin had found somewhere, and the snow had begun to collect there, giving her a frosty crown. Her cheeks were flushed and red, and her eyes sparkled. - Jon X, ADWD

Ha ha ha! Me too, bud. I am also reminded of your little sister.

Boy, what a ride that was.

Final thoughts:

Fam,

WE DID IT!

I can't believe I finished.

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #twow #alayne i #sansa i

135 notes · View notes

cricketnationrise · 13 days

Note

For the ficlet fest: 6:42 pm, a private stage, and Arthur Fox please. My ao3 is katsudonforthesoul. Congratulations on the followers!! It's so kind of you to give back to us as a way to celebrate, especially on top of all the other things you do!

thank you so much for your kind words! the not so secret part of the ficlet fests is that all y'all's prompts are so fucking cool that i have an absolute BLAST writing them <3 for once the Arthur feels are non-angsty, which is exciting for all of us, frankly. enjoy!

read the rest of the ficlets here

❤️🤍💙❤️🤍💙

6:42pm, a private stage

“O, for a muse of fire that would ascend the brightest heaven of invention!”

No one becomes an actor hoping for small audiences.

Famous actors can wax poetic all they want about how “reaching even one person is meaningful,” but at their core, in their secret egos, all actors want to be able to interact with the largest possible audiences. That dream is why Arthur tolerates filming; the reach is so much greater than live theatre. Even so, he’d much rather be on a stage, in front of a live audience. That feedback, that energy of a crowded room, solely focused on him and the story he’s telling is intoxicating.

“A kingdom for a stage, princes to act, and monarchs to behold the swelling scene!” Arthur winks at Catherine as he finishes the line, making her giggle. As much as he loves a packed house, there’s something special about performing for her alone, hidden away in his flat for once. She’d worn down her PPO’s enough that they’d grudgingly allowed her to stay the night, and that they’d monitor from down the hall instead of right outside his door after sweeping his place. Arthur can’t stop looking at her, casual in a way she rarely is, even in her own rooms in Kensington, completely at home here with him. The next line, something about Mars and hounds, pours out of him automatically, years of muscle memory serving him well, but Arthur couldn’t have told anyone what it actually is right now. He’s too distracted trying to memorize the precise configuration of laugh lines around her eyes.

He comes back to the text in time to appreciate the irony. “But pardon, gentles all, the flat unraisèd spirits that hath dared on this unworthy scaffold to bring forth so great an object.” It’s one thing to try to imagine vast battles and courts of ages past when you’re watching from The Globe, the building itself drenched in echoes of people imagining the same things for centuries—it’s another thing altogether to try and imagine fantastical settings and the grand scale of the story with a backdrop of worn out floors and his amazingly shit telly. Can this cockpit hold the vasty fields of France, indeed?

“Or may we cram within this wooden square the very casques that did affright the air at Agincourt?” Arthur recites, swapping “O” for “square” to reflect the shape of the room, grinning when Cat catches the change. She’s a princess, and she’s bloody brilliant, and she’s dating him. And if she wants him to perform Shakespeare for her, he’ll do it with bells on.

He bows a little at the next line. “O pardon, since a crookèd figure may attest in little place a million, and let me, ciphers to this great account, on your imaginary forces work.” Arthur meets her bright gaze steadily, as the lines ask her to imagine mighty monarchies and proud-hoofed horses.

Arthur paces forward and kneels before her where she’s perched on the couch. “For ‘tis your thoughts that now must deck our kings carry them here and there, jumping o’er times, turning th’ accomplishment of many years into an hourglass.”

“Did you mean, my entire life?” Cat snorts.

Arthur just chuckles in response and takes her hand for the last line. “Admit me chorus to this history, who, prologue-like, your humble patience pray gently to hear, kindly to judge our play.”

Cat twines her fingers with him and leans her face close to his. “I can’t believe you memorized a scene that wasn’t your own from Henry V, you gigantic nerd.”

“It’s a good monologue,” he protests. “And you like that I’m a gigantic nerd.”

“God help me, I really do,” she admits, standing up and pulling him up after her. “Now, let’s put a different gigantic part of you to work, shall we?”

“Well, if you absolutely insist…” Arthur fakes a heavy sigh, but lets her tow him toward the bedroom, more than happy to do her bidding.

#cricket writes #purgingmyemotions #ficlet fest 500 #rwrb #arthur fox #henry v

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dronarryfest · 2 months

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Well everyone, it's been a bumper final week for Dronarry fest! Here's your chance to catch up on everything you've missed before we post the masterlist. Thank you all to everyone who has been reading along - keep your comments and kudos coming!

[FIC] Snowdrift || E || 8k || by @wolfpants

London is drowning in snow, and Draco and Ron get more than they bargain for when they comfort Harry after - another - bad break up.

💭 Joining in the love for your established Dron here - oh my god. I loved seeing Draco through Ron's eyes, the way they were so in tune throughout all of this. You write atmosphere so well - I felt like I could see this unfolding. - dahlliances

💭 Absolutely brilliant, fantastic dynamic between the three of them, with poor old unlucky-in-love Harry (it wasn't serious 😭) and long-suffering Dron, loved the snippets about them getting together and the late night vibes, and the sex was just gorgeous, really soft and tender but scorching hot (also, let him show you what a real Weasley can do??? HELLO) <3 <3 - sweet_sorrow

[FIC] Stuck In The Middle With You || E || 18k || by @peachydreamxx

“You want a job here?” Ron finally asks, “Taking orders from us?” Malfoy nods shortly. “You want to be beneath Harry and me?” Amusement flashes across Malfoy’s face. “You could say that.” ~ The one where Draco Malfoy walks into Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in need of a job, and Ron, and his co-partner Harry, decide they can show Draco the perks of working there.

💭 HELP MEEEE I FEAR I WONT RECOVER. Gorgeously hot, the POV switches were so fluid and well-done, I loved getting to be in each of their heads. Absolutely incredible! - citrusses

💭 wow wow wow what a stunning take on their relationship. i love the harshness of it at first, and the way they had to work through all of their feelings via sex therapy to get to the love they were all too afraid to give. the sex scenes were SO well thought out, and really didn't hold back on the Dom/sub. i loved seeing draco in a truly subby role, and following ron's journey, and then harry's compassion… really well thought out on all accounts. thank you so much for sharing this with us!

[PODFIC] Silhouettes by sweet_sorrow || E || read by @cailynwrites

Draco's trying to fix the Burrow, Ron's trying to grieve, and Harry... well, just what is Harry actually doing, anyway? A tale of grief, gardening, and ghouls, bad memories, bad puns, and bad flirting, and nudity both accidental and very, very deliberate.

💭 This is one of my FAVORITE Dronarry fics from last year, I'm so glad you decided to record it! Your voice is magnificent and the quality is amazing. I love how you did the voices, too! Thanks so much for sharing it, I have all the feels now 🥰 - Schmem_14

💭 This is top tier Dronarry for me. Thank you so much for recording it and reading a beautiful story so beautifully. - wolfpants

[FIC] Borrowed Time || E || 8k || by @the-starryknight

Harry woke in someone else's bed, sleeping beside someone else's lover. Leaning in is the worst possible solution, right?

💭 oh starry, this is simply gorgeous. I love harry's sensitivity, and his tender feelings towards them, like a bruise, not wanting to hurt them and instead hurting himself in the process. romantic and stunning and hot (and funny, too, esp. the roleplay near the beginning). I don't think you've forgotten anything <3 - thehoneybeet

💭 Gosh, this was such a wonderful and sexy read. I love the way you characterised all three of them, the way they’re so gentle with each other, the way they’re all so clearly smitten. “ I don’t think,” Harry started, “I could survive that.” - this is such a great line!!! I could not put this down once I started this. It was SO good. Thank you for writing this for us ❤️ - sleepstxtic

[FIC] All This On Display Like That || M || 4k || by @elskanellis

Draco is good at: hosting; drinking; drinking games; duelling; controlling himself when Harry Potter is around; earning a chance to ask undeniably fit Ron Weasley on a date.

💭 This is sexy, funny, beautifully paced DELIGHT. Thank you for that. Can’t possibly say how much I enjoyed it in sort of an evil, chin in my hands sort of way. 😈 - shealynn88

💭 Good golly gosh! You can’t see but I’m gleefully kicking my feet with how delightful this was to read. I remembered your snippet of Draco’s declaiming and I’m so delighted to finally read it in situ! This was so fun, so sweet, so descriptive, so sharply narrated - an absolute delight AND a triumph. Thank you! - rainstormradish

[FIC] Bike Dream || E || 27k || by @dodgerkedavra

Draco’s going to learn to ride a bike if it’s the last thing he does.

💭 god i love your writing. your worlds are so FULL. so much love and struggle and support and HAPPINESS!! i laughed at so many different points in this fic but i also absolutely cried, and those are my favorite kind of fics. thank you so much for sharing this!!! - pocket-lin

💭 Your characterizations are incredible- as always, such a treat to read your writing. Thank you for sharing!

#dronarry fest 24 #dronarryfest #dronarry #draco malfoy #ron weasley #harry potter #week 3 roundup

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kingofcaptura · 2 months

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MEDUSA, you are the embodiment of the Captura community. You are humble yet a timid shy soul willing to grow, connect, have a great time and hone your stellar artwork. ELEGANCY is at the centre of your foundation. With each of your captura shot, we witness greatness.

DESTINED to spread joy, inspiration and incredible motivation. Your UBIQUITOUS presence gives off a vibe that is very wholesome. Your Lair is the only place that has brought Captura Artists from all walks of life together in one place SUCCESSFULLY and lives on to be one of the most active communities.

Filled with true connectivity, gaming, parties, funny moments, and Captura sessions with a whole lot of laughter on the side. You are the alpha and omega when it comes to IRL/ virtual photography, experimenting new themes, guiding new, present and vets in the world of virtual art. Not to mention the AWE-INSPIRING vistas that have been featured in many streams and at the Tennocon Captura Museum. Your talent is unparalleled and unmatched.

Every new theme, color scheme, fashion that you create, have been CAPTIVATING... that it inspires many artists to do similar artwork and introduces people into Captura. You’re the AURA of Warframe, without it, capacity is lesser. Without it, there's no light. PURIFICATION would describe you best as you purify your friends with a very exceptional personality.

Whether it is a moment to be serious or chill, you have it all. You are very supportive, caring, loving, talented, understanding, trustworthy, friendly, mindful, respectful, artistic, and energetic. Today is the day you turn THIRTY THREE. Here’s to another year of greatness and whacky new gaming memories to endure and rejoice.

You are UNAWARE that you are the heart of Captura and the REINVIGORATION of Captura. The ENERGY you give off is unprecedented, beautiful and SENSATIONAL. Stay blessed, stay healthy and stay fantastic.

Happy Birthday @medusacaptures! ❤️😇

#warframe captura #virtual photography #fashion #freddycaps #warframe #art #captura #happy birthday #medusacaptures #collab #duviri paradox #art on tumblr #playwarframe

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absolutebloodychaos · 6 months

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Melbourne 23/11/23

I've seen these all over Tumblr before and now that I actually went to a gig for a band I follow on here, thought I might as well right down my experience of the show so...

Thoughts from the show

Me and my bestie got to the venue and started queuing at about 3:30-3:45 or something and we were in the first like a hundred or so in the queue (we did not mean to queue that early, we were going to go after school had finished - so like 4 or 5, but we got let out at lunch cause of final year 10 exams so...)

Made a bestie in the line who was great and who we stayed with throughout the gig, gonna love them forever❤️

The sun was shining directly down on us so like next time I am making sure to bring an umbrella or something as it was super fucking glary (it wasn't unbearable though which was good).

Bought merch, the Victoria Is My Girlfriend tank top and the grey t-shirt with the pink picture which are both so slay.

The doors opened at 7:30 and we got in some time between then and like 7:40, we had to fast walk to our gates which was fun but then by the time we got to the floor we were only like five people from the front or something.

Made another bestie while waiting for the gig to start who was very tall and basically became like a guardian angel for me and my friend, they had been to a bunch of moshes before and stuff and ended up keeping track of us the whole time which was fun.

There were two girls in front of us doing coke while waiting for the show, they offered me some and I did not know how to feel about it.

Damiano was SO FUCKING HOT IN PERSON I SWEAR TO GOD!!!!!!! I am never going to shut up about how fucking FINE that man is. He was sweaty and so damn sexy and his voice was flawless and I strangely got the gut urge to lick him which is something I've never had before.

Vic CAME INTO THE CROWD during one of the songs (sorry I couldn't remember which one, I was very distracted), stood less than a foot away from me, close enough that I could see that she is shorter than me which I did not realise, and she made DIRECT FUCKING EYE CONTACT WITH ME I AM NOT OKAY!!!!! This was the first of FIVE TIMES that this happened, I am never recovering and she is fucking GORGEOUS in person.

Thomas was so slay up close (and I mean up close, we were so close that I could pick out his individual moustache hairs I swear), he's a fantastic guitar player, he had a couple of solos but the main one was the big one he did at the start of the encore, I also made eye-contact with him once as he was directly in front of us for like the entire gig.

I also locked eyes with Damiano THREE TIMES, he also looked at my friend, I swear to god that man is so sexy I want to die.

Ethan's hair looked fucking MAJESTIC in person, he is such a fucking amazing drummer I SWEAR.

I took my shirt off somewhere in Valentine I think as it was too fucking hot, but then I had the best time just bopping around in my bra.

Damiano, Vic and Thomas all crowd surfed, sadly not near me, but it was fucking awesome.

They did Trastavere and Are You Gonna Be My Girl acoustic on a little stage at the other side of the stadium, I couldn't see that very well but it sounded AMAZING.

Ethan and Vic did a fucking amazing solo while Thomas and Damiano were coming back across the stadium, I think the song after that was IWBYS.

Damiano's shirt at the start was HOT - only buttoned up at his waist, but him shirtless in person killed me.

Vic's outfit was so fucking sexy I swear to god (and I got to see it up close, AAAAAAAAAA).

Ethan started off the show in a suit, then went to just a shirt, and then just a tie, and my god that man is attractive.

Damiano had an Italian flag at multiple times and it was so slay, at one point he got everyone in the crowd who was Italian to put their hands up.

The encore was The Loneliest and IWBYS, someone made Vic laugh during IWBYS and it was the cutest thing ever, she was like right in front of us for that.

In the encore I couldn't choose who to look at as I had Damiano on my left and Vic on my right and I felt weirdly like this was some kind of metaphor for my sexuality turmoil but it was amazing.

I am fully in love with Damiano's hair again, now that I've seen it in person I promise I will never doubt again.

They did all of the new songs from Rush! (Are U Coming?) and they were AMAZING!!!!!!

It is morning now, I only got five hours of sleep or less, the ringing in my ears has only slightly disappeared, my throat is going to hate me all of today, but it was so fucking worth it.

#måneskin #damiano david #victoria de angelis #thomas raggi #ethan torchio #melbourne #loud kids tour

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dtupdates-archive · 9 months

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♡—DREAM was active on Dream__Fanart! He liked:

It Takes Two 💙💚

it takes two ^0^

dream is so strawberry shortcake coded 🍓🍰

IT TAKES TWOO

old it takes two art 💚💙

i'm not in the minecwaft business…i'm in the empiwe business! >:3c

how endearing

drair makes me depressed

let him cook

A different kind of love ❤️

kinda late but NEVER TOO LATE bro i literally loved the Everest mv, go stream rn

george stole sapnap’s candle 😭

It takes two…. to dance! Wink wink

I kinda abandoned this art but here is a sketch from it

Did this on another device to celebrate it takes two coming back even though I'll have to miss the stream </3

Dreamm!!!

ms paint dream doodle ig (sorry abt the glare it’s unavoidable)

prince and the ribbit.

The "oh" moment

Little Dream sketches

Tell a friend to tell a friend… THEYRE BACKKKKKKK

it’s dreammm! :D 🫶⭐️🤩

Bro he's so…

sweet as honey

-·Next to me is where u stay ·-

Waiting for the stream

my part for the tongue tied map :)

did anyone else have this game as a kid ? ! 😭🫂⭐️🪩💚🎧

so can you fill the void

he’s a pretty boy

showing off

Sleepy 😴

COMMS💚💙

drm eating a strawberry bagel for tmblr user :>

Happy Birthday, Dream! So happy to celebrate you and all the fantastic things you have done this year!🍾

Dream doodle from my sketchbook

we have a different kind of love <3

I can see your face in the Parisian paintings.

Something in green

Drew something for @.WolflynD's cute mermaid AU check theirs out below ♥️ they even have lores!

i wanna put you in the spotlight

💚💙.

Hey I did a thing :]

PARANOID!!💗

bro is witerally a puppy 🐶

dritties 😵‍💫 (@.GeorgeNotFound you’re lucky)

— when all i ever do is think about you ⚘

I really want to hit 20k before my birthday so…(9/6)

cant wait for the next it takes two stream in 2024

💚🍃 It takes two to-_ 🧶💙

i'm trying to fight art block rn 😾😾

here’s my part for the tongue tied map hosted by @.J_divss !:)

angel boy 😇💚

drmie :) <3

(untitled it takes two art)

nom -🍓

dream 🏴‍☠️👒

Animated the sparklers :3 🎇🎆

to many more birthdays spent together 🍰✨

#dt.update #dranart #dreamwastaken

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rekas-writes · 1 year

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Valorant Agents and Their Fast Food Sins

Pair: Implied! Individual Agent (Neon, Killjoy, Raze, Jett, Chamber, Harbor, Sage, Reyna, Viper, Phoenix, Yoru)/GN! Reader - more so Individual HCs Source: Valorant

Type: Headcanons/Bulletpoints - 652 words Genre: Comedy/Fluff/Crack Perspective: Second-Person (You/Your)

TW: None

A/N: Hi! It's been a while! I hope you've had a wonderful New Year and a fantastic winter holiday/winter in general, my lovely customers! I'll be wrapping up some orders before diving back into my October series! ❤️

Further A/N: It was my birthday on the 31st December and I've just come back from the Philippines. I was dealing with a couple things but I'm hoping to get back into writing! This was just a fun, little thing I thought of while out in London. There was a Wendy's and a Taco Bell and those things are hard to come by here in the UK, haha- and so naturally it evolved into fast food habits nobody asked for.

Of course if you do any of these combos, more power to you! This is all in jest and I just wanted to write a light-hearted comedy/joke piece :D

. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 🍡 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .

Neon: Cuts a donut in half and then sandwiches her McDonald's apple pie with it. It helps with her sweet tooth and she swears it's the perfect dessert combo. Will also make you one in an effort to get you to appreciate this sugary goodness as much as she does. She might also wink and say it's not as sweet as you... and then cover her face with a hand because she can't believe she just said that

Killjoy: Puts chicken nuggets in her chicken sandwich and if you tell her that's too much chicken for the bread to filling ratio, she'll just add more out of amusement. If you encourage her? She'll get you to help her put as much chicken as possible in there

Raze: Mixes all the sauces together. All of them. And then she will ask you to grab more sauces/your leftover sauces. Sauces are boring on their own apparently. If you ever raise an eyebrow at that, she'll just shrug and tell you not to bash it ‘till you try it. Somehow it doesn't taste bad at all

Jett: Puts chicken nuggets and other random fillings from different fast food joints on pizza and then folds it like a calzone. Has and will defend this to the end of time. If you ask her why she doesn't just make her own custom pizza/calzone, she says it doesn't taste the same

Chamber: Puts onion rings and fries in his burger. It's not really a sin, but he genuinely thinks this is a weird combination/thing to do so he never does it in front of people. He'll wait for you to go to the bathroom or something, and then add them in. Might steal your onion rings and/or fries too while you're gone. I'll cut him some slack, only because he doesn't really eat enough fast food to know the common food 'hacks'.

Harbor: Eats the fillet-o-fish and a random other burger/sandwich combined. If you give him a look, he will take another bite slowly and chew obnoxiously with a smug look. He does the exaggerated "mmm" too and closes his eyes just to hear you laugh and roll your eyes

Sage: Likes the good ol' fries in the milkshake and pineapple on pizza. She really likes the salty-sweet combos and has more of a sweet tooth than she'd like to admit. She also thinks the fruit/shakes help(s) make fast food feel less greasy

Reyna: Uses human blood as ketchup She mixes coffee and soda together to feel something. You don't even question her, mostly because she refuses to explain herself and doesn't feel the need to. She'll just shrug, smile and then offer you a taste- saying it's like devouring a soul. It tastes like battery acid

Viper: Doesn’t commit food sins but she did try to poison someone’s fast food. She just wanted to test out a weaker poison she had on hand, and decided her target would be that one person who wouldn't take a hint and leave you alone. Never leave your food unattended around her, especially if you're going to blatantly annoy her S/O.

Phoenix: Puts popcorn chicken in his munchkin donuts. He claims to be a food connoisseur every time you question it, and that it'll catch on as a food trend one day. You tried it once and didn't know how to feel about the fact you didn't hate it. He gets really excited every time he gets this particular combo and you can't help but smile at his childlike giddiness

Yoru: Probably puts salt in his cheap coffee, it tastes awful but he does it anyway- maybe out of spite. He got the salt from the tears of his enemies. He never stopped to consider that just because he could, maybe he shouldn't. You don't say anything because the last time you did, he drank it faster and then got another

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heliads · 2 years

Note

Hello dear friend!!🥰 I've just seen that you enjoy writing for the hobbit and I'm currently in my hobbit phase so here I go requesting again:)

I've been daydreaming this for some time now and it's kind of complicated: reader x kili

I'm sorry if it doesn't make sense: Reader is an elf with magical healing powers. (Slightly different than the usual elvish powers) Reader is their father's child (their father being known for his powerful healing magic, power bestowed on his child now.) The power works like this: their blood is the healing factor. The blood used in potions or incorporated in objects -like a sword dipped or a necklace that contains the liquid- will save someone's life at a great cost- draining the blood will kill these two elfs.

Reader's father died, having been hunted and drained of his blood, so Gandalf and Elrond took maters in their own hands, adopting Reader. Years later, they join Thorin's company because of a secret prophecy. Reader is bound to a curse - "you must help another gain their home, to pay for the loss of your own, even at the cost of life." - the prophecy implies that Reader might lose their life at the end of the quest.

So, on this journey Reader and kili fall in love, and reader gifts each dwarf with an object drenched in their magical blood. (Having become close to all of them)

We reach the end, the battle of five armies, and Durin's line survives but did reader?

I'm gonna let you decide the plot in general, on what you're gonna focus and the end of course. I hope you like the idea and I hope it makes sense:)))

Thank you so so much🥰🥰 Lysm❤️❤️

oh this is SO GOOD. omg your ideas are fantastic every time. i will be thinking about this for the rest of my life

masterlist

Rumor has it that a quest will be coming soon to Rivendell. You have been sensing it for weeks now, the journey itself pacing closer and closer with feather-light footsteps on your skin. It takes only the arrival of the dwarves to this golden city of the elves for your suspicions to be confirmed, and even then, you are not truly sure of your role in it until an audience is to be held.

No one quite knows what to make of the company of Thorin Oakenshield. It is doomed to fail, of course, but the troubling odds could lend it the favor of Fate, and thus allow them to succeed after all. The future has a penchant for hopeless causes, you’ve noticed, and oftentimes the worse the chances of survival, the more likely it is that a ragtag group of heroes will make it through in the end.

Not all of the Rivendell elves share your sentiments. They could be biased due to their natural hatred of dwarfkind, but even then, you can’t deny that the journey to retake the Lonely Mountain may only meet with peril after all.

Still, the dwarves will try, and that alone must give them at least some credit. Lord Elrond is meeting with Thorin at the moment, accompanied by Gandalf the Grey in the hopes of entertaining more rational ideas.

They only speak for about half an hour before a messenger appears with a summons to meet them. You were wondering how long it would take until then, until the moment when the stars would start to align and they would realize that Thorin’s goal of reclaiming the title of King Under the Mountain sounded an awful lot like the answer to a goal of your own.

There are two characteristics about you that would make you so interested in a quest like this. The first is that of your bloodline. Your healing abilities have long since exceeded those of a normal elf’s ever since you were born. It is in the L/N family history that all in your dynasty share marvelous powers to cure any ailment, eliminate any wound.

The answer lies in your blood. One drop is all it takes, even to bring somebody back from the brink of death. You’ve seen it done before. Your father had taught you the joys of being able to give life to those in need of it. Now, he lies in an unmarked grave not even you can find, his corpse discarded by mercenaries after they drained him of his blood one dark night when the two of you were on opposite sides of the countryside.

You had been only a child then, and learned the news when it was delivered to you by Gandalf. By then, the mercenaries would have been after you for the same fate that befell your father, so the wizard took you to Rivendell. Lord Elrond accepted you into his ranks without another thought, and you’ve been living here ever since.

All this time, however, you’ve been waiting. The world likes to balance out its scales, you’ve noticed, and your family could never be host to such a wonderful gift without having to pay its price quite literally in blood. The ability to heal so successfully has to be carefully guarded, not only for your own life but for that of your family as well. Had your grandfather still been alive, the death of your father would have killed him, too.

So it would go all the way up the bloodline: for any ancestors that were still alive when a child was drained of their blood, they would die as well. If they could not protect their own, they would not deserve the gift.

The children are punished too, even if the death of their father would not kill them. There exists a prophecy, carved in stone somewhere on a cliffside long since fallen to rubble. One elf of your bloodline must embark on a quest to help another gain their home, to pay for the loss of their own even at the cost of life.

It could be your life. It seems the most likely, anyway, as your father has already died, leaving you with no surviving relatives who could otherwise take on the prophecy. Others in your history have tried to fulfill the prophecy, because the story goes that finishing that oath may remove the curse set upon your bloodline, but none have been able to succeed in all their centuries.

However, it appears that you may have a chance today. Thorin Oakenshield’s quest certainly does seem to fulfill the requirements of the prophecy, as to take back the Lonely Mountain would indeed gain him and the dwarves their home.

The only question lies with convincing one of the proudest dwarves to accept the help of an elf on his journey. Thorin takes some arguing, but in the end, he consents in a show of great reluctance. You don’t believe that he truly finds fault with your presence, however, and neither do the rest of the dwarves.

You are introduced to the rest of the dwarves later that night, and find them to be a raucously fun bunch, if lacking a little in proper decorum. This is to be expected, of course, and you have a feeling that you’ll be grateful for their candor over the duration of such a difficult journey.

This is especially proven true in your friendship with one dwarf in particular. You grow closer to Kili, nephew of Thorin, in far less time than you expected. He is kind, with a good heart, and seems eager to make you smile whenever possible. If he only does it to prove that elves are capable of typical emotion, well, that’s between him and himself alone.

Such conversations find you one night, late into the dusk, camped out in the rocky bluffs a few days’ travel from Rivendell. A campfire is burning in the center of the encampment, although disguised behind a great deal of rock and protective coverings to ensure that no one could spot it from across the mountains. Most of the other dwarves are asleep, but it’s your turn to be on watch. Instead of going to sleep when Kili’s shift was up, he has elected to speak with you instead.

His face always seems to grow more sharp in the dark, with the occasional tongue of flame providing just enough light to see the cleft of his jaw, the sharp flash of his dark eyes. “I must confess, although you’ve spent more than enough time explaining your abilities and prophecy, I still have a few questions. Do you mind answering them, or have you tired of our prodding?”

Kili says it with a smile, although you can tell that he asks in earnest. You smile at him in return.

“Ask away,” you say, “although I’m afraid I don’t have much additional information to share. All I know is what my father managed to tell me before he died, and that was a long time ago.”

Kili frowns. “It still doesn’t make a lot of sense to me. Why is it that you wouldn’t die when your father was murdered?”

“It only kills those higher up in your bloodline,” you explain, “For example, when my father passed, no one older than him was still alive, so he died alone. Had he survived and I was drained of my blood instead, he would have been killed as well.”

Kili’s brow furrows, the light from the stars glancing off of it as you watch. “That doesn’t seem right. Why should so many in your family be forced to die for someone else’s greed?”

You tilt your head up to the sky. Out of your corner, you can see Kili shift so he can look at you more easily without your noticing. “It is imbalanced, but somehow quite fair. If a father could not protect his child, why should he be suffered to live? The system is brutal, yes, but fair. Is there not nothing you would do for your family? Why not die for them?”

Kili nods solemnly. “How does your family survive with this sort of curse on your bloodline? How could any generation live long enough to continue on the line if one child dying could wipe out every ancestor? Surely they would have died out long ago.”

You shrug. “Secrecy, I suppose. If you stay on the run long enough, you can make sure your child stays alive long enough to take care of themselves when the parent dies. It never works well for any of us, though.”

Kili’s gaze is contemplative. “We’ll take care of you, then. We’ll keep you safe. Even after the quest,” he says, voice suddenly serious, “I mean it, stay with us. We wouldn’t be happier than to keep you with us.”

You smile at the thought of it. “I would rather think that you’d be sick of me by the time the quest ends. You may want to wait on that invitation until you’re more certain of my character.”

“I know enough of your character to know that I would not want to leave you so easily as a stranger might,” Kili says simply, and for some reason, the intimate truth in his eyes leaves you silent for the rest of your watch shift.

It is not only Kili that grows on you, despite your admitted preference for him over the others. As the weeks turn into months, you realize that what Kili said had been true. The dwarves of Thorin’s company are more than willing to lay down their lives for you, and in turn, you feel the need to do the same.

There is one more aspect to the curse upon your bloodline, one more thread to the tapestry that has hung over your head all this time. Your blood can also be used as a more physical safeguard. If you drench a talisman in your blood, it can be used to save the life of the wielder. It comes with a severe cost, as all forms of your gift must surely follow suit. If someone comes back to life due to a talisman covered in your blood, you will die in their stead.

It is only fair. To rob Death of a victim would be far too great a gamble. Like you said, the world likes to balance itself out, and everything must have its consequences. You have accepted this truth a long time ago, although it takes the dwarves of Thorin’s company far longer to reach the same point.

You still insist on gifting them all with a talisman coated in your blood. By now, they’ve become far too dear to you for you to risk their lives, and this feels like a natural step. If anything, by dying for them if they use their talismans, you’ll be fulfilling the prophecy, and at least then the ghosts of your ancestors can rest easy knowing that their great responsibility has been answered at last.

The one hero who has the greatest problem with accepting a talisman is Kili. He staunchly refuses to take anything that might have a cost to your life, and you end up having to convince him over the course of several days to even entertain the idea.

He still seems unhappy with it, despite your strongest reasoning. “I can’t ask you to do this, Y/N. I can’t ask you to put yourself at risk for me.”

“And I can’t ask you to die for me, Kili. I want to do this, I swear. It’s worth it. No one else would die, only me. How could I possibly object to this fate, dying to save a friend? Who could ever object to such an honor?” You respond.

“I could object,” Kili sighs, “I could object to anything, if it meant losing you.”

You meet his gaze earnestly. “Then you would have to admit that I feel the exact same way. There’s no guarantee that you’ll even have to use it, right? Just take something, please. For me.”

Kili looks around for some sort of last defense, but relents in the end. “Fine,” he says, “for you.”

You nod and reach into your pocket to grab a thin gold chain. Cradling it in your palm, you raise a knife in your other hand so you can summon up the blood necessary to complete the talisman. Just before you can cut your skin, however, Kili holds up his hand.

“Wait!” He says urgently.

You look at him in confusion. “I thought you were alright with it.”

“I am,” Kili agrees, “but I would rather use something else for the talisman. Here, take this.”

You recognize the smooth stone even before he presses it into your palm– his mother had given it to him, Kili had told you about it earlier.

He sees your surprise, but keeps your fingers firmly folded around the surface of the rock. “It represents a promise I made to my mother that I would come back to her,” Kili whispers, “I’d like to make a similar promise to you.”

Your breath sparks in your lungs, standing here with his hand so resolutely on yours. It takes a moment to collect yourself long enough to nod your assent, and even when Kili removes his touch from yours, you swear you can still feel a ghost of it on your fingers.

In the end, Kili accepts the gift of your blood just as the other dwarves do. You feel better knowing that they’ll be safe if anything should happen. The fact that you might die to save them is insignificant; you have been destined for an early grave ever since the day you drew your first breath. At least now you have some sort of safeguard in place for the rest of them.

Despite your reassurance to Kili, it appears that they might have some use for the talismans after all. Your party manages to make it to the Lonely Mountain after all, and Smaug falls after a night filled with burning smoke and the screams of the people of Laketown rising to your ears. Your quest is technically over, as you have delivered Thorin’s company to their home, but you have no way of knowing if the curse is lifted without dying. You feel no different, and the call to protect your friends is far stronger an urge, so you stay beside them without question.

The dragon is not the only problem to befall Erebor, however, nor Thorin’s onset of madness. Thranduil, king of the Mirkwood elves, arrives with an army, and you find your company plunged into warfare. The Mirkwood elves are joined by another enemy soon enough: Azog and the forces of the orcs descend upon the valley, and all of a sudden everyone must fight to the death in the hopes of making it out alive.

As the battle progresses, you find yourself increasingly separated from the other members of the party. Azog stabs Fili through the chest– the sound of Kili’s scream may never leave your ears– and soon enough Thorin leaves the company to pursue the lead orc himself.

For now, all you can do is try to stay afloat in the midst of such a terrible battle. Kili is by your side, joined soon thereafter by Tauriel, and you can see snatches of your other friends in between slashing swords and terrible death cries. You almost think that there is a chance of success, and then you turn around and see Kili just as he is impaled by the sword of one of the orc captains, Bolg.

You are not entirely sure of what happened after that. You can remember two moments quite plainly: one, watching the sword pierce Kili’s heart, and another, blinking yourself back to reality to find your weapon far more bloody in your hands. Bolg is nowhere to be seen, and you think you might remember stabbing him before Tauriel knocked him off of the stone platform of this ruined watchtower.

What matters most is dying in front of you. You drop wordlessly to the ground by Kili’s side, reaching for him even though you know it doesn’t matter, there is nothing more you can do. Not even your spells or chants can help him now, as much as you wish they could.

His arms lose the last of their strength, even when it seemed like such fortitude could never truly abandon him. It is now, when he lays dying, that you can see it in his hand. The stone from his mother, the promise Kili never should have had a chance to break.

Death strikes at last. He lets go of the stone and it drops soundlessly to the ground, where it cracks upon the impervious surface of the watchtower flagstones. Although the blood had dried long ago, it slithers off of the stone again, dripping off of his hand in serpentine trails of red.

It is done, then. You stagger away from Kili at last. You don’t have to look at him for this, as the sight of his body will be burned into the back of your eyes until the end of time. Or, that is, just until now. You’ve done your part, and it is some comfort in knowing that Kili, at least, will be alright.

The tears sting, made brutal by the harsh, cold wind. You close your eyes and take your final shuddering breath. You think you can hear your father’s laugh somewhere, carried to you on this deadly wind. You reach out to him with trembling hands, and think you might be home at last. All is quiet.

Across the battlefield, Thorin struggles to his feet on the ice, barely able to stand but somehow still alive. He pays no mind to the corpse of Azog by his feet, more interested in the place where the orc’s blade had run him through. Thorin’s hand reaches under his torn mail shirt to pull out a medallion, formerly drenched in blood. It shatters beneath his fingertips.

Fili opens his eyes under the ruin of a bridge. A fall of this magnitude should hurt, as should the piercing wound through his chest, but for some reason, he doesn’t feel a thing. It isn’t the oblivion of a deathbed, he notices, but that of complete and utter health.

Kili is kneeling on the stones of the watchtower, watching blood sink into the snow and dye it a fresh crimson. He should not be alive, he is certain of that much, and slowly he looks up as a thought occurs to him to wonder why.

The three last vestiges of Durin’s folk come to a realization at the exact same time, despite the distance between them. All three stare at tokens that had been imbued with your blood some time ago, tokens that are now breaking to ruin before their eyes. It hits them in one shared moment what this means, how they could possibly be still alive despite their deaths.

Your blood saved them, which means that you must now have died in their place. One last sacrifice from someone who stayed on to protect them, even when they could have left with a clear conscience. It is their fault, then, their burden to bear, and three hearts crack in unison with what must be the last beat of yours.

Kili remembers seeing you before he breathed his last. He scrambles to his feet, ignorant of the jagged pieces of his promise stone crunching underneath his boots. You are not in front of him anymore, and he casts his gaze around wildly before he sees a body on the ground a short distance away.

He runs to your side in an instant. There’s a smile on your face, one far more still and quiet than any of yours had ever been. Kili shakes his head, crying something out for you to wake up, to come back to him. He doesn’t know the exact words he’s saying even before they burst forth from his mouth.

You had always accepted the way the curse works, but Kili had never gained your complacency when it came to the all-important matter of your life. He hates it now, this foul system, that the world could be so twisted and blind in its justice that it would let an innocent life such as yours die to fulfill its own bored want for punishment.

It is in the middle of this deep storm of loathing and silent tears that he feels something. Kili’s hand had been clasped around yours, and he doesn’t realize the twitching of your fingers for what it is until it happens again. It is only then that he is able to look up, to search your face for some sign of life and see it there, in the fluttering of your eyelashes, the soft breath that comes once from your lips.

Hardly daring to believe it, Kili leans over you, and so he is treated to the sight of you coming back to him at last. Unable to say a word, he presses your entwined hands to your lips, and smiles.

You smile back at him through cracked and bloody lips. “Did the talismans work, then?”

He wants to cry and laugh at the same time, and instead settles for a choked sort of gasp. “Yes, they did. I’m safe. You are too,” he adds more doubtfully.

You nod, an expression of amazement on your face. “This must mean that the curse has been lifted. Defending your home from the orcs must have done it.”

Kili’s face turns somber. “That means you’re free. You could go anywhere you wanted.”

Your gaze softens. “I think I’m already exactly where I want to be.”

“Really?” Kili asks, expression written over in a child’s free hope.

You laugh. “Only if you’d have me.”

His smile is something to be beheld. “I could think of no other fate I’d rather have.”

His kiss seals the promise, and just like that, you are well and truly free. There is no curse hanging over your head, no fear to haunt your steps. Instead, you have a future that you have wanted more than anything: someone to love you, a place to call your home. All this, and more. No greater future has ever been promised to you, and yet you still have the delight to believe in it.

lotr/hobbit tag list: @rogueanschel, @retvenkos, @gods-fools-heroes

requested by @zaypay, i hope you enjoy!!

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