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yanderestarangel · 7 months

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HEADKANONS MK1 - TRIO LIN KUEI + FRIEND!READER | SFW

TW: gn reader, sfw, headcanons in general, spoilers about mk1, platonic relationship, little angst.

˚｡⋆.☆Do you want to make a request? Read my blog rules in the pinned post, comments and reblogs are welcome♡

A/N: I'm just used to writing smut things, but here's something softer. Maybe I'll do a part 2 after Bi Han's betrayal with his brothers and his reign of tyranny, what the relationships would be like, but just maybe.

You were friends with all of them, since you were a teenager. The first to bestfriend you was Kuai Liang, he was always the most communicative of the trio of brothers - he saw you training with other newly arrived ninjas and decided to welcome you into the clan, you were friendly towards him, which Liang was Unaccustomed, he really liked you so he invited you to dinner at one of the local restaurants - perhaps Mrs. Bo's - You really didn't want to bother him, after all, he was the grand master's son but he was extremely simple and humble, even offering to pay for the meal, so you accepted.

When you got there you met the shy Tomas, sitting alone at a table and eating in silence, he got a little clumsy when he saw you - the poor boy had no social interaction skills, he still doesn't have any to this day - so he stays quiet, just watching you talk to the his brother but soon he starts to loosen up more, laughing and talking to you too - and the two of you become closer than you and Kuai -

Over time, you became so friendly with the two that you started visiting their house, meeting their father and mother and being welcomed as their son too, but Bi Han looked at you crookedly and coldly - as he did with everyone - however he began to see potential in you, a future ally and skilled ninja and also you miraculously made him laugh even if a little, it was the beginning of the three of you's friendship.

You train with Bi Han, and he goes hard on you not because he hates you but because he sees you as a future ally, even his right-hand man after you prove your loyalty to him - even more loyal than Kuai Liang - "-You have a lot of potential (Y/N) just don't fall." -Bi Han is serious, however, offering you his hand after knocking you to the ground in one blow, lifting you up and helping you shake off the dust from your body.

Kuai Liang likes to talk and ramble with you, he would sometimes skip class with you to stroll through the cherry blossom gardens or just practice fighting in other places - once Bi Han caught you two skipping class and almost killed you both, Kuai ran with you on his back across the roofs of the houses in the local village -

Tomas likes to sleep with you and this was a habit he got used to doing even after he was an adult - on the days you went to sleep at their house you always slept between Tomas and Kuai Liang, Bi Han would stay in a separate bed in the same room . Tomas hugged you tightly and the next thing you knew he was clinging to the ninja's arms with him accidentally suffocating you with his chest and Kuai sleeping crookedly next to you, drooling on the pillows and with his leg over you, accidentally - Bi Han also snores at night, meaning he gets used to the loud noise.

On summer days you played games... Not very conventional - one of them being you, Tomas, Liang and Bi Han on a calm day doing a mouth-watering challenge, whoever smiled first would pay for the other's dinner, you all got dirty of water because of Liang who tickled you, making everyone laugh and lose the challenge, the last one to laugh was Bi Han who was extremely competitive, but after being spat with water in the face by Kuai Liang, laughing and then doing an ice dagger to run after his brother - while you and Tomas watched Liang laugh as he ran from his older brother -

Speaking of competition, Bi Han likes to play fights with you, but please don't go any further, he is very competitive and will end up putting you in a headlock and really hurting you - without meaning to -

On missions, everyone will be super protective of you, especially Tomas and Bi Han, in different ways. Tomas wants you 100% safe, without a scratch even if it's impossible sometimes. "-You're my best friend, I don't want you to get hurt (Y/N)." -Vrbada spoke worriedly as he followed you with his brothers.

But unlike his younger brother, Bi Han liked to see you in challenges, obviously he cared about you but he knew that evolution came from competitions. "-You are my best ninja and... Friend, come back alive (Y/N) I know that you are capable of many great feats, because I trained you." -Bi Han spoke seriously and arrogantly as always, but with a little concern in his dark irises, a reminder from him for you to return alive to the Liu Kuei clan and into his arms.

You, Tomas and Kuai wear friendship bracelets, the bracelet was made of strong fabric with the colors yellow, gray and blue mixed. The only one who didn't wear it was Bi Han - but he kept the bracelet in his pocket, he always put his hand in his pocket and brushed his fingertips against the accessory, smiling slightly behind the sub zero mask, it was good to know that he and his brothers They had you as a friend.

One day, when you and Kuai had no training he let you touch his hair, ending up with Liang with two braids in his hair, Tomas also wanted to do it but his hair was too short to style.

"-You can't do it on mine because it's too short?:(" -Tomas said sadly as he lowered his shoulders in defeat - he let his hair grow after that, just so you could style it - Bi Han said that was nonsense , but soon ended the day with two braids raised with colorful clips, arms crossed and sighing "-I'm only doing this because (Y/N) insisted a lot" -He said, looking at himself in the mirror irritated, it was a lie, he himself had offered to be your hairstyle "model".

You and Kuai had a game of slapping each other's asses, but one fine day, you confused which ass you were going to hit by slapping Bi Han's ass hard - he was on his back and wearing neutral clothes, you saw his round ass and gave a hard slap, soon seeing Bi Han jump and look at you with a murderous look, you had to use all your skills to run away at full speed to escape the grand master's attack, then you only came back at the end of the day seeing Bi Han with an ice complex on his ass. -

"-YOU WILL PAY ME (Y/N)!!!" *starts saying something about being the grand master and needing to be respected and about the honor of the Liu Kuei, typical boring talk from Bi Han* -He shouted pointing to you while Kuai Liang walked in between the two of you, trying not to smile, while Tomas was practically laughing, crying with laughter while Bi Han was still holding the ice on his ass.

(Y/N): "-Pikmin:3"

Bi Han : "-I'LL BREAK YOU (Y/N) I'LL DESTROY YOU I'LL-"

(Y/N): "-Pikmin:3"

When you had a birthday, everyone gave you a gift. Tomas gave you a little letter about how important you were to him, with some detailed drawings of the two of you together - Vrbada knows how to draw very well, with his favorite pastime being drawing you or the two of you together. "-I hope you know how important it is to me (Y/N)." -Tomas said while smiling, giving you a chaste kiss on the cheek, blushing to see that you were moved by his letter.

Kuai presented you with an outfit that you had wanted for a long time, a fine fabric from the best store in the village and the best seamstress of the Liu Kuei clan, it was fabrics in your favorite color, a luxurious and soft silk. "-I knew you had your eye on this outfit, so I decided to buy it for you (Y/N), I hope you like it, it will look beautiful on you." -Liang speaks with a soft voice and a smile, ruffling your hair.

Bi Han pretends not to remember that it's your birthday but obviously he does, he's a serious man and cares about you - so, when everyone goes to sleep he calls you into his living room giving you a custom-made and personalized katana, with purple blade and your name engraved, along with a phrase: "From: Grandmaster Bi Han, To: (Y/N) (L/N)". - you are extremely happy as you saw Bi Han cross his arms and also smile a little. "-This is a useful gift for you (Y/N), which will remind you how important you are to the Liu Kuei clan." -He speaks in a confident and happier voice, as he walks towards you, placing a hand on your shoulder "-And important for me too, happy birthday little one." -Bi Han gestures with his head, while smiling, it was one of the few times he showed feelings, on your birthday.

Every time you see a kitten in the windows of the tallest houses, Tomas will help you pet them, easily lifting you on his shoulders while Kuai and Bi Han watch, Kuai would laugh at the cute moment while Bi Han would say "-that was silly." but deep down I also thought it was adorable, even if I would never admit it out loud.

One time Bi Han saw you, Tomas and Kuai watching some random cartoon on television, rolling his eyes while giving a lecture about "You're too adults and too old to watch silly children's cartoons." In the end, Bi Han was also sitting on the couch with the three of you and focused on drawing - yes, it was my little pony and he marathoned everything with you that afternoon -

When you went shopping in the city, the four of you would stay on the sidewalk in the late afternoon, sitting on the asphalt curb, watching the cars pass by, with the joke of "that's my car", Tomas would always stay and point to the white ones in the city, Kuai for the red ones and you for the colored ones (which rarely passed), Bi Han just said "this one", pointing to the black cars, it was a silly joke, but you liked it.

When the betrayal happened, you were torn between helping Bi Han or your other two friends Kuai and Tomas.

If you chose Bi Han's side, you would have his approval and pride and as you always believed in your potential to be his right-hand man in a new era of the Liu Kuei, you would be treated like royalty, having respect from everyone, but leaving Kuai and Tomas extremely sad and swearing to themselves that they would rescue you one day from Bi Han's clutches - even if it had been by their own choice -

If you chose Kuai and Tomas' side, they would welcome you with open arms telling you how you would make a new clan without Bi Han's tyranny, but Bi Han would be extremely disappointed in you, even if he masked it with anger and hatred. In his speech, deep in his eyes you would be able to see his pain at not having you around anymore, he would swear to take revenge on his brothers and get you back to the Lin Kuei clan and to him.

©YANDERESTARANGEL 2023

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sserpente · 23 days

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The Weight of a Promise

“I want her.” Your heart sank when Gortash pointed at you with his chin. He leaned back, a waitress hurrying toward his table to clear the dirty plates because you were frozen in place, paralysed as if bitten by a Spectator. Hot needles pierced your stomach.

“M-me? But I’m not…I’m not a…”

“Then you shall have her. I’ll have her sent up to you shortly, Lord Gortash. Make yourself comfortable.”

A/N: Just hear me out, okay!

Words: 3721 Warnings: smut, dub-con, prostitute!Reader

Additional NSFW Warnings: CMNF, loss of virginity

“M-me? But I’m not…I’m not a…”

“Then you shall have her. I’ll have her sent up to you shortly, Lord Gortash. Make yourself comfortable.”

“Excuse me?” Your voice was shrill, panicked. You turned to face Mamzell Amira glaring at you. It was a warning look, one she was daring you to defy.

“No!”

Gortash raised an eyebrow, amusement dancing on his handsome features. It resulted in Mamzell Amira huffing an awkward laugh, grabbing your arm and pulling you into the kitchen. The chef protested but she paid him no mind.

“Do not embarrass me in front of the Archduke! Have you got any idea how important it is for us to have his support for our establishment?”

“I am not a prostitute. When you hired me, I insisted it would be to serve food and drinks only, not to spread my legs for your customers. My contract doesn’t say—”

You admired the courage and the sensuality of your colleagues around here. Their life sounded like a never-ending adventure but it was one you were less eager to become a part of. Mamzell Amira was the only one who’d given you a chance. In exchange for your work, you were allowed to take shelter in one of the smaller rooms upstairs and receive three meals a day. You’d signed a contract for it, even.

Waitress, it had said. Not waitress and sex worker.

“I know what your contract says, girl. But this is Lord Enver Gortash out there.”

“Just tell him to pick someone else! You won’t make him pay anyway!”

“He doesn’t want someone else. He wants you.”

“Then tell him I’m not available!” You clenched your fists, anger and panic boiling up inside you.

“I will do no such thing! You either go up there now and make the archduke happy or I’ll kick you out and you’re back out on the streets before you can say ‘sex’!”

“You bitch.”

“Call me what you will. But I will not have you jeopardise my relationship with the very ruler of Baldur’s Gate.”

When he first entered the establishment with a Fist and a Steel Watcher in tow, the whole room went silent. Excitement rippled through your colleagues like electricity, you could tell. They went rigid, giddy, wide smiles spreading on their lips.

Others merely widened their eyes. Lord Enver Gortash at Sharess’ Caress? Unlikely. Outrageous! But then again even archdukes needed some release and fun every now and then, no? Well, you didn’t buy it, scoffing as you collected some empty glasses to bring to the kitchen.

Something was off with this man. His Steel Watch came out of nowhere and the way he made himself out to be the saviour of Baldur’s Gate…it didn’t sit right with you. This man was no selfless hero, one look into his eyes was enough to determine that. Funnily enough, however, no one else seemed to notice. Or perhaps they didn’t want to notice so as long as he protected them from this Absolute cult threatening the city. Either way, it was ridiculous. There were rumours spread by sceptics, even. Dark rumours that he worshipped Bane, the god of tyranny.

So here you were now, in a pickle. Sleep with the man who painted himself as a saint without payment or lose the roof over your head and starve out in the streets. You cursed, storming past Mamzell Amira and fighting the gag forcing its way up your throat when you realised what you were about to do.

“First room to the right. Do not disappoint him!”

It was a fucking walk of shame, it felt like every single person you walked past knew exactly what you were about to do. Some probably envied you. Others must have been relieved they were not in your situation.

Gortash had already made himself comfortable on the large king-size bed when you slipped into the room and locked the door behind you.

“I don’t like to be kept waiting,” he announced.

“Sorry, my lord. There were some…discrepancies.”

He chuckled. “Do you often contradict your employers? I would have expected more eagerness from a pretty thing like you.”

You gnashed your teeth, swallowing down the snarky remark dancing on your tongue. He waited. And waited. And waited.

“I’m not really, um…sure what to do.” Blood bit at your cheeks, embarrassment creeping up your spine. Gods, this was so absurd. Was it really worth it?

Gortash tilted his head. “You have done this before, have you not? Don’t lie to me,” he added.

You sighed. Well, fuck you, Amira.

“No. I haven’t. I’m not a prostitute. Mamzell Amira sold me to you despite her promise I’d only be working here as a waitress.”

“I see.”

Your eyes darted up, seeking compassion in his dark eyes. Perhaps he’d understand, perhaps he’d pick someone else after all and chide the brothel owner for breaching the contract she’d made you sign…but there was none. Only hunger.

“Come here.”

“Did you…did you not hear me?”

“I did. My ears work very well, dear.”

So he didn’t care. And if you refused him now…you could imagine more comfortable things than facing the wrath of a man who built an army of automatons seemingly overnight.

“Take off your dress. Let me see you.”

You obeyed—you didn’t have much choice, after all. It could have been worse, no? Gortash was handsome at least. Duke Ravenguard, as self-righteous as he was, would have been a less appealing option with how old he was compared to Gortash.

You weren’t exactly graceful when you stepped out of your dress, undergarments following quickly. Gortash made no move to undress himself in the meantime, instead watched every single one of your movements like a hawk, amused and greedy, even more so when you pushed yourself to climb on the bed.

Come to think of it…there was not a single man who had ever seen you naked, except for your father maybe when you were still an infant and needed a nappy change. This was new. Different, terrifying considering the circumstances and…exciting?

Fuck, you shouldn’t find this exciting! You didn’t want to do this, you only meant to survive, to…

You couldn’t finish the thought. Gortash leaned forward, pulling you against him. The cool metal of the demonic faces on his armour against your palm was only a small comfort as he rolled you both over and then towered above you with a smirk.

And against all reason, when he leaned down to kiss your lips, your eyes fell shut. Fuck, no!

“You can’t…” You didn’t know much about prostitution but if there was one thing you did know, it was that kissing was usually off-limits.

“Of course I can.” Gortash grabbed your chin, deepening the kiss. It felt…good. Intimate. Almost like he meant it. His tongue slipped into your mouth, battling yours for dominance you gave up far too quickly for your own liking.

You shivered when he pressed himself even closer to you, forcing your legs apart. The metal and the leather dug into your bare skin, your hands wandering, exploring his chest in a frenzy. Your body was…reacting to him in the most delicious ways.

You realised the very moment he freed his hardening length from his leather trousers that you were getting wet. The heat between your legs had you breathing heavily, even more so when you laid eyes on his arousal. Soft black hair framed the base of his erection, his tip red and eager and leaking precum. You were worried for a moment how it would fit with how inexperienced you were. If you tensed up out of nervousness…surely it would hurt.

Gortash released your lips with a deep breath, adjusting himself between your legs. With one hand, he guided himself to your weeping entrance, with the other he stroked your cheek before focusing on your left breast, his thumb teasing your nipple.

“Relax, dear. This is supposed to be pleasurable for us both.” Was it? You very much doubted the archduke cared if you…well, finished. Yet, with how breath-taking being with him felt in this very moment, perhaps he truly did mean his words.

Inch by antagonising inch, he spread you wide open, pushing inside. He went slow, savouring every last moment. His expression was calm, blissful, almost…beautiful.

He stretched you further and further, a light burn spreading between your legs and then…it was over, leaving nothing but pleasure behind. Gortash filled you to the brim, bathing in the sensation and perhaps, letting you get used to his size before he started moving. He withdrew slowly, propped himself up on one elbow and kept kneading your breasts with his free hand, before he plunged himself back in, fucking you in a slow and steady rhythm that had your eyes roll to the back of your head.

Gortash took his sweet time, savouring every single second. Grinding against you, he buried himself inside you as deep as he could, pounding you into the mattress. He was eager for his release, yet when he reached down to where your bodies met to find your clit with an easiness that made you flinch, you couldn’t help but allow a moan to escape your lips.

He chuckled in response, his thrusts getting harder, more uncontrolled. Fuck, you didn’t want him to stop. It felt good. He felt good. His thumb was massaging that sensitive bundle of nerves between your legs even better than when you did it, hidden under your blanket at night. And whenever you did it, there was no one watching your every reaction like you were the most desirable woman in Faerûn.

There was amusement too though. It was clear by now he wanted you to come. Not for your sake—but for his. Whether it was to satisfy his ego, to confirm he knew what he was doing in bed or simply because you could only imagine how pleasurable it must have felt for him for your cunt to clench around him, to milk him for all he was worth.

Gortash left you no choice. You climbed higher and higher, unable to escape the bliss he bestowed upon you even if you wanted to. Part of you longed to deny him your pleasure, to not let him win this wicked game of his. But it was no use.

You were coming before a curse could leave your lips. You fell apart beneath him, pleasure coursing through you like a lightning bolt. Your toes curled, your muscles tensed, endorphins clouded your senses. Your moans made him smirk, your contracting pussy made him groan.

He seemed to grow even harder then, his sinful grunts the sexiest sound you had ever heard. He moved slightly, digging his fingers deep into your flesh as he grabbed your hips, surely leaving angry marks that would remind you of this encounter for days to come.

For a moment, he was no longer the fearsome archduke or the self-proclaimed hero of Baldur’s Gate. He was a man enslaved to lust and carnal desire—just as you were a woman of the same affliction. You moaned as he pumped his seed into you, his hard cock twitching and jerking against your walls until eventually…he collapsed on top of you with a satisfied sigh, leaving you both to process the aftermath in silence.

You swallowed as soon as the last waves of pleasure had ebbed away, realisation of what you had just done hitting you square in the face like a painful blow. You rose, shifting forward quickly in an attempt to climb out of bed and retrieve your clothes—to forget this ever happened before it could plant its roots into your mind even though part of you longed to do this again. Not with just anyone—with him.

Gortash chuckled and wrapped his arm around your waist, preventing you from leaving. “Are you in a hurry?”

“N-no.”

“Good. Then you won’t mind staying for a while longer.” His fingertips ghosted over your shoulder blade, leaving goose bumps behind in the process.

You should have resisted. Should have wailed, screamed, lashed out. You didn’t. Instead, you let your body relax and…enjoy the intimacy between you.

“Are the rumours true?” You asked before you could stop yourself.

“Are what rumours true?”

“Are you…a Bane worshipper?”

Silence. Long enough for you to regret your question.

“Bane is a god like any other, dear. And he can lead you to great power. He knows that power demands sacrifice—sacrifices not everyone is willing to make.”

It wasn’t an answer and yet it was. You refrained from another comment. After all, you intended to keep your head after losing your virginity.

He made you talk about yourself after this. Tell him your name, where you were from, where your family was. Light small talk you would have brushed off as mere politeness if it wasn’t Lord Enver Gortash you were conversing with.

You remained careful not to reveal too much about yourself. Trust came a long way and just because he had fucked you into the next year and proved that he was surprisingly good in bed that did not mean you would throw all caution out of the window.

After you’d gotten dressed again, you accompanied him downstairs where he was met by a smiling Mamzell Amira behind the counter by the entrance.

“I hope you had a good time, Lord Gortash?”

“A very good time indeed. Now…how much do I owe you for the time of this lovely flower of yours?”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes even though part of you rejoiced. It was ridiculous just how much you enjoyed his attention and affection despite your suspicion and your fucked-up situation. Besides, his wordplay regarding your virginity did not go amiss. Mamzell Amira perchance hadn’t even been aware of your inexperience.

“Lord Gortash, please…you owe nothing at all. We are glad that you enjoyed your time here—and I hope we will see you again very soon.”

Your face fell. You had expected something like this. It hurt nonetheless. You had given your virginity to this man…and it wasn’t even worth a single gold piece.

Gortash smirked. “We shall see. I am a busy man.”

“Oh, busy men especially should take a rest every now and then. Enjoy your evening, Lord Gortash.”

The archduke nodded, shooting a final glance in your direction before he strutted off like he owned the place. Mamzell Amira’s eyes found yours.

“Thank you,” she said.

You walked away from her without a response.

Dunk the plate, wash it, dry it, stack it. Everything went back to normal in the following weeks. Except it didn’t. Nothing was back to normal. You’d lost your trust in Mamzell Amira, in your colleagues…and you’d lost what you’d been meaning to keep for someone special.

Gortash was special, there was no denying that. But the love of your life? Hardly. Amira didn’t mention again what you had done for her but she also didn’t ask you to do it again with another customer. After a few days, it almost felt like it never happened. Like it was all a dream. A nightmare—or a very twisted and yet exciting sex dream. Perhaps until today.

“Mamzell Amira wishes to speak to you.” It was one of the drow who stuck their head through the gap in the door with a sweet smile. You sighed, dried your hands quickly and abandoned the dirty plates in the sink.

The shit-eating grin on her face when you approached the counter was unsettling, to say the least.

“You will not believe the news I have.”

Your heart sank. Was Gortash coming back? Did he want…you…again?

“I’m shivering with anticipation,” you said, sarcasm dripping from your voice like venom.

“Watch your tongue, girl. Now. Lord Gortash has requested you to join him in Wyrm’s Rock. I can hardly blame him. The man is busy—that way, it won’t be necessary for him to make the journey.”

“What in the hells is that supposed to mean?”

Mamzell Amira rolled her eyes. “It means you are to pack your things. You will be staying with the archduke from today on.”

“You…you have no right to do that. I am not your slave. I am a contracted waitress!”

“I may not. But Lord Gortash certainly does. Now pack your things. There is a Steel Watcher outside waiting to escort you.”

You clenched your fists. “And if I refuse?”

Mamzell Amira narrowed her eyes. “Refuse and I will not take you back. I can only imagine the consequences you will face if you tell Lord Gortash you are not interested in his generous offer.”

“Generous?” You shrieked.

“Lord Gortash is requesting your presence at Wyrm’s Rock.” The Steel Watcher spoke your name, repeating the order over and over again. It didn’t quite fit through the door but its robotic voice could be heard a little too well regardless.

Fuck. Mamzell Amira had a point, of course. You would lose regardless of what option you chose. And if Lord Gortash truly did worship Bane as you suspected…you bit your lower lip. Starvation, hypothermia or death by the archduke, one that would never see the light of day…none of these options sounded very appealing to you.

And against all reason…you had enjoyed his company. His touch, his lips, his skilled fingers…his cock…

“Fine. I’ll go get my things.”

Mamzell Amira nodded.

“Lord Gortash is requesting your presence at Wyrm’s Rock” was the last thing you heard as you made your way upstairs and grabbed the other dress you owned, along with a small leather bag containing three gold pieces.

There were no goodbyes, no hugs, no “take care and good luck”. Most of the sex workers were busy with customers and Mamzell Amira, quite apparently, couldn’t give less of a fuck whether she’d just condemned you to the hells.

You followed the Steel Watcher feeling like you were being escorted to your execution, across the massive bridge, past stone walls, curious Fists and citizens and eventually, up a narrow set of stairs leading to Gortash’s office and private chambers.

The Steel Watcher closed the door behind you—heavy wooden doors you knew without trying you’d be unable to open all by yourself.

There he was, smirking at you from his luscious armchair. Your name rolled off his tongue almost pleasantly as he greeted you. You were supposed to bow so you knew, yet your limbs and spine refused to move even an inch. You clutched your bag tighter.

“Was I being unclear? I asked you to take all of your belongings with you. I have no intention of sending you back anytime soon.”

“That’s, um…” You cleared your throat, cursing your embarrassment. “…that’s all I own. My lord.”

“That? Is all you own?” He eyed the bundled-up garments in your hand. Surely you looked as pathetic as you felt.

“Are you telling me you own only two dresses?”

It was a hand-me-down from one of the prostitutes who no longer fit in it. Hence, it was a lot more revealing than you would have liked. The one you wore was plain, the fabric stained and worn-out toward the bottom.

“Yes.”

“Hmm…we shall rectify that. I’ll have someone sent to Figaro to retrieve some. As my concubine, you should look the part.”

You blinked. “What did you say?”

Gortash’s eyes met yours, amusement glistening in his.

“C-Concubine?”

“Why else did you think I’d send for you? To discuss political matters?” He chuckled. You weren’t quite sure why but it had you seethe.

“Mamzell Amira made quite a generous offer,” he explained.

“Which is?”

“You. In exchange for a lowered tax rate for the brothel.”

“T-that’s it? She…she didn’t even ask for payment for me?”

Gortash tilted his head and chuckled yet again. “Did you think you’d fetch a hefty sum? She did tell me she picked you up from the streets. Clearly, she must have thought your loss wouldn’t affect her business much.”

He might as well have reached for a dagger and plunged it deep into your heart. Tears pricked at your eyes, worsening your sight. You blinked them away frantically, unwilling to show weakness in front of him.

“Now, now…surely Mamzell Amira had only your best interests in mind when she sold you off. After all, I live a very wealthy life here in Wyrm’s Rock. First, we can get you some nice jewellery to wear.”

“I don’t care about jewellery.”

“Then what do you care about?”

“Bodily autonomy,” you murmured.

“What was that?” When you didn’t repeat yourself, he continued. “You are free to go if that is what you’re implying. But I think we both know what your alternative is.”

“That’s not fair.”

“It’s not? A shame.” Only he did not sound regretful at all.

“You expect me to let you fuck me whenever you please but you won’t pay me because I was a gift from the brothel! Are you even listening to yourself?”

“You are getting paid. You’ll have a bed, warm meals, clean garments…and my protection on top of that.”

“So I am nothing more than a slave in a golden cage.”

“If that is what you would like to call it, then by all means. I have business to tend to now. When I return, I expect you to have bathed. And—do throw away those hideous dresses.”

He moved toward the door but before he left, he turned around again.

“I will treat you well, dear. I can promise you that.”

“How much weight does a promise hold these days? The previous one got me into this situation in the first place.”

“I am a man of my word. I have no reason to lie to you. All I ask in return is that you behave. You can do that, hmm?”

He smirked, his expression playful. He left before you could utter another word.

Fine. You’d play his game. And may the gods help you, you will win.

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thegnomelord · 6 months

Text

CH 1: With a Spark It Starts Just Like It Ended

CW: NSFW Blood, gore, cannon typical violence, M reader but can be read as GN, Mage reader, Monster 141 AU, reader is described as having thick fucked up arms.

AO3 3.7k words, more of an intro to what's to come lol.

Old man Abdul had lived a good life. A harsh one. But a good one.

He was amongst the first to grab a gun and raise the fight against the Russians, risking life and limb for the freedom of Urzikstan even as members of his pack bled and died to artillery fire and noxious gas. And he alone had survived to see his country set free of tyranny and chose to stay in the military long after his hair had greyed.

And how was he rewarded for his service?

With a 'promotion' to guard the basement of a conference hall. They even called it the 'Peace House' as if that made his position grander, though in his humble opinion the only peaceful thing happening within the halls above was the lack of physical violence.

"Hey, did you fall asleep on me old man?" Taim, a bright eyed and gap-toothed human private so young he could've been one of his grandsons, asks as he throws down five playing cards on the floor between them. Royal flush, again.

Old man Abdul's eyes are soft with a glare and he throws down his own cards, already knowing he'd lost. "Go fish." He huffs, leaning back into the chair they'd been able to squirrel away.

It was embarrassing to think that boredom could torture him more than the Russians did, but they were only a few hours into their shift and he was already thinking of biting a bullet. Chances were they'd stay down here long after the diplomats up top finished bickering about who knows what...

"Hey," Taim perks up, and from the few weeks he's known him, Abdul knows the glint in his brown eyes heralds something stupid. "How about whoever loses this round takes a shot from your leg?"

He is proven correct.

"How about I throw you into a minefield so we can match?" Old man Abdul responds, his tail wagging from side to side. His tail looks more at home on a rat than any werewolf, the fur there an accidental casualty of a Russian fire mage's spell that had taken his leg off. The prosthetic leg only fitting on his human body isn't nearly as insulting as the warding totem they'd given him to protect against lethal magic after his leg had gone flying.

Taim gulps and holds his hands up. "There's no need for that sir." He quickly adds, clearing his throat and reaching to the floor to pick up their cards and shuffle them.

Taim's warding totem slips out from beneath his jacket, but it's different from old man Abdul's. Not in appearance, with the same materials every mage will make theirs differently, but in feel. It feels different...wrong.

Eyes narrowing he reaches out and holds the piece of faintly glowing rock between his claws. Heat radiates into his fingers, the magic inside pulsing in a steady even thrum like a machine instead of beating like a heartbeat; like something not quite alive.

Abdul had been in combat long enough to know how good a warding totem is with how his body reacts to it.

The shit one he'd been given barely gets the remaining fur on his tail to bristle.

Taim's makes his skin want to melt off.

"Where did you get this?" Abdul asks, tail curling up as he lets go of the totem with disgust clear on his face. "That rock could probably protect you from L3 mage without cracking, maybe even L4." Call him paranoid, but a private getting a totem to protect him from mages rarer than unicorns doesn't make any sense.

"Oh, that-" The young man clears his throat, the totem laying flat against his chest like an insult to life. "Came from up top a few days ago, guess all those terror attacks spooked command and they want to keep us normal people safe." He realizes his words and quickly adds. "-not that I'm calling you not normal or anything sir, it's just that-"

"-You're squishier than me, yes, I know." Old man Abdul rolls his eyes, leaning back into his chair with a huff.

Taim gives a nervous little giggle, scratching at his curly dark hair. "No offence sir. It's just...you know."

"We all look out for our kinfolk first." Old man Abdul sighs, going to wave him off.

His pointy ear twitches and immediately he's jumping to his feet when his sensitive hearing picks up the sound of the elevator mechanism running. No one is supposed to come down at this time, and Abdul already has his rifle raised to point at the elevator doors by the time Taim is able to get to his own feet. The old werewolf doesn't even need to say anything for the young man to stand on opposite side of him, they work together well, both guns aimed at the person revealed by the opening elevator doors.

It's just the janitor.

Taim lets out a small breath and lowers his gun, relaxing as the janitor gives them a small greeting both of them have to strain their ears to hear as a face mask muffles their words.

"That was a bit embarrassing." Taim chuckles weakly, nodding his own greeting and taking a step back so the janitor can push the heavy cart past them. Abdul notes the janitor's hands are thick and large, the veins poking out beneath latex gloves. Murky water sloshes inside the mop bucket, the trash bag filled to the brim and budging.

It's just a janitor.

But like an annoying tick on his ass, something doesn't let old man Abdul relax.

There's a buzz in the back of his mind like the one he'd get when he was being watched, and when he catches sight of the janitor's eyes beneath the wide-brimmed cap that buzzing stops; Instead replaced with a flash sense of wrongness in his bones and the feeling of tar inside his heart and an indescribable scent — like stale beer and burnt grass and deep dark rot — it has his fingers moving to the trigger before the sight of magic melting through latex can make the short trip from his eyes to his brain—

Glowing lines spring into thin air to form magic circles before their eyes.

The warding totems shatter.

'Pop' goes a head.

Both bodies drop to the ground.

"Could have told me there was a dog." Your words scrape against your throat like shards of glass from the disuse, melted latex stretching into long strands as you take off the cleaner gloves and throw them away, your fingers steaming and glowing hot with mana before you hide them away in tactical gloves.

"I-" Taim tries to say but his voice fails him, eyes and mind still blinded by the harsh glare of magical fire.

"Save it." You cut him off, pulling open the lip of the trash bag to dig out your facemask helmet. It's both a full face helmet and a gasmask, scratched up from years of use but still able to protect your head while keeping you anonymous. A shame it can't filter out the stench of burnt flesh, but you've gotten used to it.

Taim's vision clears and the moment his eyes settle on the charred remains of Abdul's head— the hollowed out skull where concentrated flame had burned a hole straight through everything in it's path, the flesh and bone charred black —he's scrambling away as fast as his feet can push him, the shattered remains of your warding totem crumbling beneath his fingers. Bile rises in his throat and he coughs when he breaths in, but his stomach is thankfully empty so he ends up dry heaving.

"On your feet." Your words are hard to understand under your gasmask, but you don't need to raise your voice. The tone you use has him scrambling to his feet in seconds.

"I- I- yes sir!" Taim manages to stutter out, doesn't even have to fake his fear as he stands at attention. He watches you reach into the dirty water to pull out a Handheld Personal Computer and shake off the residual droplets to ensure it still works before putting it in your pocket.

"When is the next check in?" You ask, reaching further into the trash bag to grasp the handhold on the heavy gas canister hidden beneath office trash. You pull it out without much effort, setting it carefully on the ground so you can recheck that the release valve is intact.

"20 minutes sir." Taim responds and he doesn't need to know Arabic to know what's inside the canister when a grinning skull is printed on the metal.

You let out a low sound, and Taim tries not to peer too closely at you. Sometimes he wonders what face a person who burns people alive without a single second of hesitation could have, but then you look at him and he sees that unnatural glow of mana in your eyes behind the darkened lenses of the helmet and he's glad he's met with the emotionless visage of the mask rather than the one beneath it.

"You have 10 to get out before Hell opens up." You say, standing back up and picking up the canister without complaint. "Use the emergency tunnels, don't spook the VIPs."

Taim is human, not sensitive to magic like the monsters are, but even he can feel the latent mana in your veins that strengthens your body. Like maggots at the back of his skull. It makes a second round of bile rise to his throat. "Yes sir."

You pay close attention to him until he disappears down the corridor before going the opposite way. Alone, it is easier to calm the lingering heat in your veins until the eternal engine of mana in your chest fizzles down to embers like a sleeping beast. Can't have your mana mess with sensitive electronics, even if that does leave you exposed on the cams (as if there's anyone alive to watch them)

"Ifrit, status?" The small radio in your ear crackles.

"Moving to the target, encountered and neutralized a wolf." You answer, taking sharp turns as you follow a path you'd memorized beforehand. "No other monsters to report."

You were lucky to run into one down in the bowels of the conference hall instead of at the front gate. Otherwise your espionage mission would have turned into a frontal assault. Not that Khaled would have minded, you were getting paid to send a loud statement after all.

"Good." You don't need to see his face to know he's smirking, your employer wasn't a huge fan of subhumans. "Continue to the objective."

You respond in affirmative, coming to a heavy metal door, locked with a passcode and even a palm scanner; It's all a valiant effort to keep sensitive data safe, but it may as well be cardboard to you. You summon another circle, this time right on the door, biting your tongue. You're not good with 'subtle' but you haven't forgotten what Taurus or Sierra had taught you; first pushing a bit of loose ash magic between the large atoms making up the metal to disrupt the bonds, then a single pulse of fire ignites the volatile ash and has the entire bottom half crumbling into red hot shards.

Molten slag drips down to the floor when you duck down under the remaining half of the door to find yourself in the server room. Steam rises when the cold air meets your hot skin, but you hardly notice as you first head to the ventilation system at the back of the room. It's dark, but you don't bother turning on the lights, the subtle mana in your eyes enough to give you primitive night vision.

"Ifrit to Alpha-Actual, connecting the payload right now." You say, setting the canister down. The ventilation collects the air from the server room to push it through the entire building and then outside, so all you have to do is melt a hole through the exit pipe until it's big enough for the hose on the canister to fit snugly inside.

"And the files?" Khaled's voice sounds in your ear once you're finished.

"Going now." Standing back up you head to the central server. Taking out the HPC you hook it up to the mainframe, watching the screen until it shows 'connection secure'. "I'm connected."

"Copy that." Your eyes scan the cracked screen (which you broke less than a week after getting it), seeing the file transfer start before Khaled even finishes speaking and trying to read and memorize the names of dozens the files but they change too quickly. "File transfer ETA 5 minutes. Sit tight."

Giving confirmation you keep an eye on the doorway. Though you are positioned in such a way that you'd see the shadow of someone coming in before they see you, years of being behind enemy lines and acting as a friendly to your foes has taught you to be careful. Especially when you can't use more than a smidgeon of mana without frying the entire server system.

You are lucky that no-one comes, the remaining guards too busy guarding the diplomats above you to check what's beneath their noses. While waiting you access the public stream to watch the peace talks, setting the sound to the lowest possible setting so you can keep an eye on the diplomats in case you need a change of plan.

"Got the files, you're clear to finish." You're moving before Khaled can finish speaking, leaving the HPC to hang by the cord from the server. "Oh, and remember: Loud."

"You get what you pay for sir." Kneeling down next to the gas canister you check to ensure your gas mask is firmly on and breathing in deeply; It restricts your breathing and makes muscles work harder, but your body is so used to it that it feels like coming back home.

"Letting the gas out now." Even with the gas mask you still hold your breath when you open the valve, the gas hissing as it escapes the canister, the fan right next to you helping push it through the system. You know there's not enough gas to reach the diplomats on the top floor, it's part of the plan, so when the gas pitters out you cast another circle inside the pipe.

The servers around you flicker meekly and crackle with electricity when you use your mana fully; Something intense and suffocating burns behind your sternum for just a second before liquid mana is rushing down your veins into your hands and coming out through the magic circle as copious amounts of ash.

The rotating fan right next to you spews some of your ash right back at you, flooding the server room in magic that has long since accepted your body enough not to hurt you. But even your seasoned stomach feels tight when you breathe in the mixture of ash and toxic gas, the chemicals turning your magic a nasty shade of green, and you make a mental note to change the filter when you're done with the op otherwise the toxified sediment collecting in there will poison you for months.

You can hear the diplomats begin to cough over the livestream in the HPC, but it all feels so distant when you shift and feel cold dog tags press against your burning chest. They're light like a noose around your neck, yet the absence of weight mocks you in a way their owners no longer can.

There's a familiar sting in your bones when your mana reservoir begins dwindling, but it's easy to push through it until the engine in your chest goes into overdrive from the stress the magic puts on your body. You only stop when the burning mana in your veins starts burning small holes in the sleeves of the janitor jacket, revealing bits of your mage marked skin.

Stopping the flow of ash your hands find themselves in your pocket, taking out a lighter. It's one of those old zippo lighters, the exterior is rusted from years of action and numerous initials are scratched into the metal, but somehow it still functions; It's the strange thing about it— the more you use it, the longer it lasts. Stop, and it dies.

"It's a bit like you, firebug."

Absentmindedly you trace the scratched initials in the metal, trying to ignore the hollowness in your chest when the screams beyond the smokescreen of ash start sounding familiar.

"Going dark." You say to them, flicking it open.

One spark is all it takes.

. . .

With Makarov having gone underground like a wanker after his escape from the gulag, Price and Laswell had been stuck with their heads in mountains of paperwork searching for the bastard. Price had known he'd be in for a headache the moment he agreed to let the boys watch a live football game between England and Scotland, but he reasoned they'd all been working hard enough to earn even a small break.

At the very least it gave them all a moment of reprieve from the stress of a possible world war.

It didn't stop Soap from being a bloody muppet.

"Oh fockin' 'ell!" Soap roars and jumps to his feet, growling at the teli where a ref held a red card above her head. "That should've been a yellow! Fock, one more eye and the ref's a right cyclops." He waves obscenities at the teli as if the ref can see them, his tail hitting Gaz every time it wagged.

"Soap!" Gaz groans and stretches one black wing to smack the werewolf over the head with his long flight feathers to stop him blocking the screen.

Though Gaz's wings are hollow, the smack still hurts. "Ow, what's that for?" Soap groans, rubbing the back of his head.

"At least take your defeat with a wee bit of dignity." Gaz smirks, folding his wings.

"Bold assumption he has any." Ghost mutters next to Price, making him chuckle.

“Oh ho! I’ll get me dignity when the bloody ref gets off 'er knees an’ stops blowing the entire game.” Soap turns to playfully snap his teeth at Gaz. "And what's tha-"

The football match cuts out, replaced with a news segment.

"-Oh, what the fock?" Soap grows quiet when the newscaster begins speaking.

"We interrupt your regularly scheduled programming to bring you breaking news. As we speak, the conference hall in Al Mazra, where diplomats from over 40 countries had come to discuss peace and trade agreements with the newly reinstated Urzikstan government, burns in the flames of another terrorist attack."

The footage shifts to a drone filming a bird's eye view shot of violent flames spewing from every hole and window to engulf the entire three story building in consuming fire, heavy plumes of smoke rising into the sky like a maw of a hungering beast to spew a storm of ash and cinders down to the ground. The clouds of ash have a sick green undertone to them.

"Shit." Gaz sucks in a breath.

"Mokarov's done hiding." Ghost notes, leaning in to look closely at the screen with narrowed eyes.

"How the fock did we miss this?" Soap asks the question in their minds, turning to look at Price. "This popped up like bloody whack-a-mole."

At that same time Price's phone rings. The dragon quickly fishes it out of his pocket, seeing Laswell's name as the caller ID before he picks it up while the reporter drawls on.

"Price, are you-"

"Yeah, I'm watching the teli." He cuts her off, knowing what she's going to say. Distantly he can hear the same news report sounding on her end.

"Authorities warn citizens to vacate the immediate area as toxic gas has been detected in the air. Military forces are already enroute, but the prospects for the diplomats survival are nonexistent."

Price's draconic eyes focus on the screen when the footage shifts to that inside the conference hall. Two diplomats argue about something Price can't begin to try and untangle, his focus on one man near the back who begins coughing. More follow suit, and even over the screen Price can tell the signs of toxic gas inhalation by the way more diplomats begin wheezing and coughing wetly.

"This isn't the Russians." Kate says after Price has put her on speaker.

"How come? Looks like some terrorist shite Makarov would pull." Johnny says, his tail curled up and the tip wagging occasionally as he pays attention to the screen.

Seconds later plumes of blackish-green smog erupt from the vents above the diplomats, spewing out with such force it knocks the the camera and the man behind it down to the ground. Ash Magic, Price realizes when he sees smoldering cinders drift almost peacefully in the all consuming fog. Seconds later something causes a spark and the volatile ash magic explodes.

"Ash mage." Ghost grunts, "Just great."

"Makarov doesn't use mages." Price says, scratching his beard.

"No, but Al-Asad does." Kate's voice drifts through the silent room as they watch several APC's arrive on the scene, armored soldiers exiting. But without any monsters who can stomach the heat like Price and with the fog of ash so thick it could be cut with a knife, the best they can do is secure the perimeter. "The CIA intercepted his broadcast before it went public, this is just the start."

Gaz hops off the couch, crossing the small distance to tap one claw at the screen. "What is that?" He asks. Seemingly hearing him, the drone camera focuses on where the main entrance of the building had been.

A dark silhouette of a person can be seen in the flames, growing darker and more refined until finally a featureless helmet emerges from the flames, a deep glow emanating from behind the lenses. It's followed by a body, clothes burnt away in some parts but the flesh beneath unharmed. Price can tell immediately it's a mage by the state of the arms — even from far away it's easy to tell the mage marks, the skin turned rough and dark like cooled magma, veins brimming with volatile mana.

Before the soldiers can fire a single bullet you lift one hand up, the dark mage marks turning to bright like fresh lava when mana flows from your chest to your fingers. A magic circle etches itself into the ground in an instant, so large the surrounding buildings fall into it's perimeter.

And with a second motion of your hand everything erupts into an all consuming cloud of ash.

Laswell's voice rings out. "That's Khaled's new attack dog."

Price and Ghost share a look, both know what will happen long before some nervous soldier caught in the ash cloud pulls the trigger. The cloud of ash explodes the second a spark is created in a weapon's chamber, plunging everything into chaos.

Great, a new wanker to worry about.

Price sighs, brows furrowing. "That's trouble all right."

Tag list: @resident-cryptid @diejager @lovingtyrantkitten @lieutnt

Masterlist <- Chapter 1 (you are here) -> Chapter 2

You can imagine the helmet however you want, but it's in the style of the Devtac Ronin helmet.

#centerpieces of the hoard #cod mw2 #x reader #male reader #top male reader #captain john price #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #kyle gaz garrick #fanfiction #cod modern warfare #cod mwii #cod x male reader #cod x reader #monster 141 au #monster cod au #not betaed #next chapter coming soon

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save-the-villainous-cat · 5 months

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A villain being forced to kneel for a group of heroes 👀

“Oh, I didn't think they could go that low,” the leader of the group joked. It was cruel, the hero knew that. With the villain’s calves sliced open, there was a hardly any chance that the villain could even get up. They looked at their leader who started taunting their nemesis. Big talk for someone who stood above an injured person.

Their jokes were of poor taste and the hero’s throat started to burn. They had been getting on their nerves for months but the hero had managed to mostly ignore it.

“Get lower, maybe you can start licking my boots...” They pushed the villain’s head down with two fingers and kicked their leg until the villain fell from their kneeling position. They couldn’t even use their hands to prevent their face from landing in the dirt. Their fingers were broken. Most of the heroes on the team turned away, searched for something to do instead of watching their leader’s cruelty.

“Look at you, how the mighty have fallen.” The leader laughed and put their boot between the villain’s shoulder blades. And then, with all their strength, they pushed down when the villain tried to struggle to their feet.

“I think you might be overstepping here,” the hero said. They walked towards their leader despite their head screaming at them not to disagree. The agency wasn’t blind, this institution wasn’t dumb. Everyone was aware of the leader’s tyranny. However, the city still let them work because they simply got things done. Even if it took inhumane measures. It wasn’t fair.

The leader turned around.

“What did you say?”

“That’s my villain.” The hero pointed at their nemesis on the ground. “My assignment, my problem, my responsibility.”

“Your villain?”

“I got assigned to them, yes. Your boss made that decision, actually.” They eyed the villain shortly. Blood dripped down their calves, their fingers were crooked and their breathing was definitely not normal. They wanted to shout at the next best medic to take care of them.

“Well—” their hand landed on the hero’s shoulder “— be glad that I got your back. This one was pretty nasty. You would’ve never gotten them.”

They squeezed the hero’s shoulder harshly and the hero understood the warning.

However, they didn’t really care.

They pushed the leader’s hand off their shoulder, basically slapping their hand away.

“Isn’t that lovely?” the hero asked. “You’re such a kind soul.”

They walked past them, feeling the stare in their back and their heart was beating harder than ever. They had the tiny suspicion that wasn’t the leader’s but the villain’s fault.

They kneeled down and took the villain’s face into their hands. Simply put, the villain looked awful. More dead than alive, anyway. The hero rubbed their thumb over the villain’s cheek over and over again.

“Technically, they’re mine now. I beat them and I captured them,” the leader spat.

“I need a medic over here,” the hero said. “Could you call them with all your kindness?”

“I don’t think you understood me. I am your leader. You don’t want to make me your enemy.” The hero sighed and mumbled a few reassuring words towards the villain before they helped them up. They stabilised the villain as good as they could but the villain was muscular and heavy.

“Of course not. It would be quite a pathetic fight.” The hero pulled their villain closer. “Since I am such an incompetent hero and definitely no role model. I can’t fight, can’t even follow orders properly.”

They cocked their head.

“Now, please call a medic. We are good people, aren’t we?”

The leader only scowled, having understood the sarcasm and demand in the hero’s voice. They left and the hero wasn’t sure if they actually got a medic or not.

“Thank you,” the villain whispered next to them, clinging to the hero’s chest.

“Anytime,” they answered. Their grip around the villain tightened and the hero had to admit, they were scared of letting them go again.

#this time baby I’ll be bulletproof #writing snippet #heroxvillain prompt #heroxvillain snippet #heroes and villains #hero #villain #hero x villain #heroxvillain #an answer for an ask #request

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quitblamingnarcissism · 1 month

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Neurotypicals: "People who don't obey the police deserve to die."

Neurotypicals: "Capitalism is the best economic system because selfishness is human nature. Any attempt to enforce compassion for others is tyranny."

Neurotypicals: "If you're not useful to the profits of the ruling class, you should be left to die."

Neurotypicals: "Children who talk back to their parents deserve an ass whooping. I insist that hitting children is good for them even though every study on it (and basic common sense) says that it's not. Anyone who calls me a child abuser is rude."

Neurotypicals: "I have every right to yell at my children, and they're disrespectful if they yell back."

Neurotypicals: "How dare the working class form unions!"

Neurotypicals: "Some jobs shouldn't pay a living wage."

Neurotypicals: "People in debt from student loans deserve it."

Neurotypicals: "Discrimination against people of color, disabled people, women, LGBT people doesn't exist anymore."

Neurotypicals: "If they worked hard and stopped being lazy, they wouldn't be poor."

Neurotypicals: "I'm a nice guy. Women don't like me because women don't like nice guys."

Neurotypicals: "My children, who I regularly hit, berated, and controlled in every way want nothing to do with me. Where did I go wrong?"

Neurotypicals: "I label LGBT people as predators even though I'm the one who wants to force child rape victims to give birth to their rapist's baby."

Narcissists: (exist)

Neurotypicals: "HOW DARE YOU! YOU'RE SO EVIL! PEOPLE LIKE YOU ARE SELFISH! PEOPLE LIKE YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT PEOPLE WHEN THEY ARE DOING SOMETHING FOR YOU! PEOPLE LIKE YOU GASLIGHT! PEOPLE LIKE YOU PROJECT YOUR BAD QUALITIES ONTO OTHERS! PEOPLE LIKE YOU HURT OTHERS AND WONDER WHY THE PEOPLE YOU HURT ARE ANGRY! PEOPLE LIKE YOU ONLY CARE ABOUT POWER AND LASH OUT AT ANYONE WHO PRESENTS YOU WITH FACTS! PEOPLE LIKE YOU THINK YOU'RE BEING WRONGED WHEN THE PEOPLE YOU HURT START FIGHTING BACK! IT'S HUMAN NATURE TO CARE ABOUT OTHERS AND YOUR LACK OF EMPATHY MAKES YOU SUBHUMAN!"

#narcissistic abuse #ableism #npd positivity #surviving narcissism #raised by narcissists

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bonefall · 13 hours

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I know you don’t rewrite arcs until they’re done, but I love hearing about your early ideas while I brood over how badly this arc has let me down. Do you have any like super vague ideas about Splashtail’s motivations yet? He’s like a way worse Hawkfrost in my mind, because they’re both very young cats who Are Just Evil. But Hawkfrost had a genuinely interesting backstory that the Erin’s simply fumbled, meanwhile Splashtail is a cartoonishly evil atheist. I feel nothing towards him, he’s not intimidating or interesting or even funny. Save me Bonefall save me (if I got something wrong please ignore it, these books are so disappointing my brain is making me forget them to protect itself.)

If it helps at all, I'm staying sane with the observation that Hawkfrost is a high charisma character making critical failure rolls, while Splashtail is a cringefail loser with no stats rolling nat20s. He becomes 50% more sufferable when you imagine a long, pungent pause after anything he says, broken only by the sound of an offscreen player tossing some dice. When the silence is broken, it's whatever NPC has been charmed speaking in the beleaguered voice of the dungeon master.

SO my early thoughts are shaping up to be that I'd like to do a slightly more serious version of that.

BB!Splashtail is the Clan equivalent of a 19-year-old, desperate for more power and respect in his society. In terms of his stats, he's promising but not outstanding. A decent fighter, a competent leader. Even in terms of lineage; his father is Sneezecloud, a respected trader and negotiator, but his mother is Havenpelt. An ex-rogue who has sworn to live by the ways of RiverClan.

Curlfeather is the one with the plans. She's the one with vision. Daughter of Reedwhisker, grandchild of Mistystar, with grand leaders like Bluestar, Oakheart, and Crookedstar in her past, greatness runs in her blood. Scandal, too-- but for some reason it's acceptable that her great-grandparents were codebreaking traitors.

Splashtail hates Curlfeather, but he can't get anywhere unless he tries to be her. He steals HER plans. He acts like SHE does. Manages to snatch power from her paws, and then has no idea what to do with it.

I'm thinking that I want his reign to be going smoothly at first, actually, going from a bit of a bossy jerk, to trying to enact Curlfeather's ambitions by launching fights and doing it badly, to active tyranny as he tries to keep control over RiverClan. Depending on how Star goes, I might have Berryheart make some kind of move to seize power over him.

At the core of how I see him though, is that Splashtail has no plan. His ideology leans Thistle Law... in a sort of dumbass 4Channer kind of way. He talks a big game about the glory of battle, but folds fast when his enemy can punch back. The only person he could successfully manipulate was a traumatized child. He will bring back pureblooded glory to the Clan, except his personal family of course

As for the Evil Atheism stuff... lol. Lmao, even. Not needed. If I need to make him a more powerful and serious danger, it's not going to come from the fact he's godless. If being an atheist gave you super murder powers, Bill Nye would have used them to obliterate half of the US government by now.

Depending on how the last book of ASC goes,

The Harelight kill is probably going to get changed to Hallowflight. Harelight watches his dad die, and Splashstar is drenched in the blood of one of RiverClan's most famous heroes. No turning back after that.

On that note I'd also make the fight longer and bloodier. A butchery of an execution showcasing Splashtail fighting like a beast and Hallowflight like a trained warrior.

I REAALLY want to make Splashtail's death a drowning. Curlfeather, demon she is now, finishes him off by dragging him under. To protect her daughter. They will have to do something VERY satisfying for me to not do this.

#BB!ASC #Better bones au

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cadwhatalad · 1 year

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Thinking about Andor and violence, and the way the show remains constantly aware of the aggressor/aggressed relationship in every interaction between the empire and the rebels; both in terms of the way in which the rebels’ violence towards the empire is expressed in moments of combat, and the way the empire is shown to be constantly exercising their aggression outside moments of combat.

Luthen invokes it his first conversation with Cassian – “the way they laugh, the way they push to a crowd. That voice telling you to stop, to go, to move.” He doesn’t talk away they torture or kill, he talks about the way they manage people, and how that management is achieved through a constant press of mild but unrelenting violence. Then it’s shown, like the TIE fighters on Aldhani. The way they just blast through the mountains, the size of them against the characters in the foreground. The pilot who flies over them when they’re preparing for the heist has no reason to think they’re anything other than shepherds, but he still flies as close and fast over their heads as he possibly can because he’s noticed them and wants them to know it. He doesn’t shoot, probably isn’t allowed if the garrison wants to maintain its veneer of civility. But he’s noticed them, so now he has to let them know that he could hurt them. Just flies overhead. If he happens to clip someone? If one of them gets caught in the wake turbulence and thrown into a tree? Not like he’d ever know or care. He doesn’t need to, as long as they know. Can’t let them forget that they’re only alive at the empire’s mercy.

Or in the prison, the way the guards never shut the fuck up when moving prisoners around – it’s a constant poke-poke of stop, go, stop, move, stand there, walk, stop. The very first introduction to the prison we’re given, when the head guard makes this big flex of “how can it be we can stand here without guns, just wait til I show you” so he can demonstrate the floors - it’s a show of confidence that’s proven almost immediately to be bullshit, because the guards are incapable of interacting with the prisoners without constantly grabbing them, hefting their giant tasers, shouting and pushing because they’re terrified that if they stop for half a second the prisoner might feel like a person again, and that alone would be enough to pose a threat.

Meanwhile, the violence of the rebels is shown as an exact inverse. It’s a subtle thing – often they’re active aggressors right back, often they throw the first punch or fire the first shot, but they’re almost always in some kind of vulnerable position when they do so. In the very first fight, Cassian doesn’t square off. He tells the guards about the credits in his pocket so they’ll come close, stays passive until they’re in headbutting range, and then he attacks. When the prisoners are preparing the breakout, they stay on program until the last possible moment, weapons hidden behind their backs as they comply. When Cinta stabs the ISB agent, she manages it because she backs up into an enclosed space and lets him corner her there. He never once considers that he’s not in control of the situation. His hands are down by his sides as he looms over her, and he doesn’t think to check where hers are until the knife’s already in his gut.

To me it’s a stunning textual representation of Nemik’s statement that tyranny requires constant effort. Think about Syril entering a random house during his manhunt and shooting at the first thing that moves, looking stone-cold terrified even through he’s the one with the big gun and the warrant, versus Cassian and Luthen escaping in the same episode by setting off a decoy first, allowing pretence of rolling over without a fight so they can slip away unimpeded. Think of the way the riot sparks off; not as soon as Maarva’s recording ends, not when the cop makes a paltry attempt at cutting off the transmission with his jacket, but when he gives up on nonviolence after that attempt fails and just kicks over the whole droid, even though he probably knows it’ll be the thing to blow the keg. He’s culturally incapable of doing anything else. Think of Wilmon, bringing a bomb to the riot that only works as well as it does because the empire showed up with crates on crates of grenades and then left them just sitting out in the street.

Wherever the rebels succeed, it’s where the empire fails to check what’s under the hammer before they swing. They rely on a constant wall of aggression and never bother to check the cracks in the foundation. Cassian says so – why would the prison guards bother spying on the prisoners when all they have to do is turn the floors on twice a day? Why would the garrison defend against an attack when they’re so sure no one’s stupid enough to try? Hell, fucking Dedra says so, spends the first half of the season clanging the alarm bell waiting for the rest of the ISB to catch on to what she’s already noticed.

The show never pretends that the empire’s violence isn’t overwhelming and devastating and almost inescapable, but what it does do is show the utility of taking moment to breathe. Plant your feet. Wait for your moment to strike. You don’t need to rely on lucky shots if you’re smart about where you aim.

Idk I just think it’s neat.

#andor #andor spoilers

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y-rhywbeth2 · 2 months

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Hello I love bane totally normal amounts, so do you have any favorite fun (or fucked up) trivia facts about my emotional support god of tyranny?

I might've mentioned some of this before, but here's some trivia (and sometimes my musings upon it):

He has absolutely no indoor voice when he's excited. -

If you're invited to pray with the Banites and refuse, expect Bane to curse you with constant debilitating pain that prevents you from being able to cast spells (too much pain to concentrate) or fight, or walk very fast. This doesn't go away until you get a cleric to cast remove curse on you. If you do join them in honouring the Black Lord then your alignment will magically switch to lawful evil and you basically convert to Banite on the spot (if you're a priest then your god fires you immediately and won't take you back); this is either 1e nonsense or a sign of Bane brainwashing you, and either is just as likely. -

He - in his own words - has an "ever-gnawing hunger for miracles and wonder". He also has 10 levels of wizard, which might tie into that. -

He seems to have a monster making hobby. There are so many monsters and monster variants that have been copyrighted by Bane it's ridiculous: banedead, baneguard, baneliches, banelar nagas... I'm pretty sure that Bane is actually credited with creating the beholders ("eye tyrants") of Toril, though I don't have the time to go looking for a source on that.

Either way; he has a lot of beholders in his service. -

I'm pretty sure I remember something about his inventing his own traps during his stay at Zhentil Keep, so there might be an engineering hobby in there somewhere. -

He's a nerd about human biology and geeks out about blood cells and neuroscience - not that he'd admit it because the idea of being thrilled by mortality terrifies him (also I think he just hates positive emotions in general). Before the Time of Troubles he used to enjoy possessing mortals as hosts instead of manifesting avatars, which would presumably allow him to experience what they did and geek out about it while pretending he wasn't (although he didn't look after them very well and inevitably ran them into the ground - basic human needs are beneath him). -

He seems to like using black and red lightning of some sort as a kind of signature. -

(...I think this guy would be very happy as a supervillain living in his secret lab somewhere, performing mad scientist experiments as he plots to take over the world.) -

His domain can be annoying to pin down, because technically it started off in the plane of Acheron, but he's also supposed to be rooming with Loviatar and Bhaal in the Barrens of Doom and Despair in Gehenna, so who knows! -

He has a pet raven called Koravis, who he has a mild telepathic connection with. This raven is actually a fiend in the shape of a raven, but that pretty much just means he has an evil pet raven.

It's been stated that in his mortal life his character class was Blackguard - or an evil paladin, in 5e terms, dedicated to the service of evil powers. I suspect his patron was his master, the primordial Maram, who he served as a battle slave. As the evil pet raven is a Blackguard class feature (fiendish servant) I suspect he had Koravis when he was mortal. The bird/fiend was likely given to him by Maram (much like a warlock's pact familiar comes from their patron) and I guess the bird stuck with the winner. -

He managed to piss off the earth goddess Chauntea at one point, trying to destroy her sacred pools/portals in the Moonshaes. I can't find the sourcebook for the details at the moment though (it was successful enough that his followers still have the moonveil spells though). Bhaal was also trying to kill her over there at some point, so I wonder if that's connected?

#lore stuff #the idiot three #asks #long post

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liaswritesrobots · 8 months

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Inspired by @montyuh's asks about terrible soulmates.

"Check his arm." Tarn commanded Vos.

Vos shook his head after examining the mech's arm.

Still no luck. Though he supposed that was a good thing, since he didn't want to be the sparkmate of a dead mech. Still, it's been centuries and he still hasn't found anyone with the name that was written across his arm and he hasn't found anyone with his name on theirs.

He sometimes imagines what kind of bot they are, to have such a strange name for a cybertronian- perhaps they weren't born on Cybertron and instead are a part of a colony off world. He wonders if they're a Decepticon. He hopes they're a Decepticon... or at least a neutral that could be easily swayed into joining the Decepticons. He wonders what colors they've decorated their frame with. And what color their optics are. And if they like music. He hopes they like music. He could sing for them.

He thinks about them far too much some would say. Obsessively checking every bot they off to make sure they aren't the one. Not that he's opposed to murdering his sparkmate if they're an Autobot or defector, but he can't help but feel a tinge of sadness at the thought of the bot made solely for him being his enemy.

He wants to know the euphoria of having his other half by his side. Someone to hold him on those long, lonely nights aboard The Peaceful Tyranny. Someone to protect. To conquer. To playfully tease in the privacy of his habsuit. Someone that loves him.

He sighs, turning to leave the room. Ever since they boarded this Primus awful ship crawling with Autobots he's had this... feeling... that the one he's supposed to meet is here. He wonders if there's a chance they're locked in the holding cells. Some Decepticon prisoner that wandered into these fools' path and found themselves at their mercy.

That wouldn't be so bad. Then he could free them himself. They'd be completely indebted to him then. They'd have no choice but to be by his side and-

He stops in his tracks noticing you standing there with a blaster aimed at him.

Human.

These Autobots and their love for organics... it's disgusting! Letting one of you live amongst them. Disgraceful. What a pathetic little thing, trembling at the sight of him despite your fighting stance. Your little arms can barely hold that blaster up and they're shaking too bad for you to even get a clear sh-

Hold on...

He squints, examining your trembling arms. They're shakey but he swears- he swears he can see the word "Damus" on it. His eyes grow wide and with a swift step he snatches you off the ground causing you to drop your blaster. You scream and struggle and try to hit his hand to make him let go of you but he brings you to his face to examine you.

He raises his other hand and between two digits, violently stretches your arm out causing you to cry out in pain.

Damus

And it looks like the word "Glitch" is faded behind it.

"No." He whispers. "No. No. No! No! NO! NO! NO! Each no getting louder an more desperate as his grip starts to tighten around you. You manage to yank your arm free from his grip and try to pull yourself up out of his hand.

"Human, what is your name?" His eyes narrow.

"Like I'd tell you!"

Defiance. Even in the face of danger, even within his grasp that could easily end your life you refuse his simple request. He tightens his grip again, causing a sharp pain in you as you gasp and huff for air, "Tell me!" He demands through gritted teeth.

You comply this time and his grip not only loosens, he nearly drops you as he falls to his knees.

This is joke. This has to be. A cruel prank by Primus! There's no way his sparkmate is organic! This is a mistake! You can't be the one that is supposed to love him no matter what. You can't be the one he's wanted to hold and cherish for so long. You can't be the one he's been waiting for all of his life. You can't! You can't!

"Tarn?"

The sound of Tesarus' voice down the hall snaps him back into the moment. He stares down at you trying to pry yourself from his hand so you can escape. He closes his fist around you once more and opens his chest, placing you inside. He uses the wall to help himself back up.

"You ok?" Tess asks, running up beside the mech.

"Yes. I just... I think I need to go outside for a moment. I'll be back soon." Tarn turns away and staggers down the other end of the hall towards an exit

"You want us to put the party on hold for you?"

"No. Kill everyone find. Do not leave even one spark intact." Tarn reponds.

He just has to clear his head. Some fresh air will do the ventilators good. He'll figure out what to do with you once he can think straight again.

#transformers #maccadam #macaddam #Tarn #The DJD #Transformers IDW #IDW Tarn #my writing #soulmates #soulmate au #reader insert #Tarn x Reader #sorta #neither party wants the other really

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krinsbez · 8 months

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A Watership Down Meta/Headcanon/Rant

So, both @jaybutnotthebird and @stavarosthearcane have stated that, to their knowledge, I've not posted this on tumblr, and indicated that they would like to hear it, I'm posting it now!

So I don't recall if it was stated explicitly or was, like, a rumor, but everything about Gen. Woundwort makes so much more sense when you realize he's a hutch rabbit.

Why is he so enormous? Cuz he was bred to be big and fluffy, was fed flayrah everyday, and was taken to the vet if he got sick.

Why is he so afraid of humans? Because they were the first elil he ever encountered.

Why is everything he does in complete opposition to proper lapine culture and behavior? Because he grew up not knowing anything about it.

Efrafa is, in essence, an attempt to make a warren into a hutch.

OK got that? So, here's another thing to think about. Cowslip's Warren, or Strawberry's Warren, or the Warden of the Shining Wire, or whatever you want to call it...they also completely disregard traditional Lapine culture and behavior; they don't tell stories of El-ahrairah, they make weird poetry about the inevitability of death, they keep babbling about dignity, they make ART, etc. This, by the way, is why it and Efrafa come off as so viscerally wrong, because Mr. Adams went to the trouble of putting us in a rabbit headspace, so we can understand the full horror; it's not just Woundwort's tyranny or the farmer's snares, it's that they're unnatural and rabbits aren't meant to live that way.

Now, I know what you're thinking when I say that word, "unnatural", but put down the pitchfork.

Because Hazel and Co. do a LOT of things that is outside the realm of typical rabbit behavior:

Despite being Chief Rabbit, Hazel let's the others argue with and talk back to him.

They made friends with mice and a bird.

He adopted Cowslip's Warren's idea of using tree roots to create a big central chamber

Tales (the sequel short story collection) has them adopt a (obvs. less aggro) version of the Efrafan practice of having the Owsla run patrols

They busted out hutch rabbits.

They used a boat

Meanwhile, Sandleford, the Warren that our heroes fled, was apparently the epitome of a traditional Warren and of course they all died horribly.

So, what's the difference?

It goes back to the last lines of the first myth, part of which was used as the first animated film adaptation's tagline:

“All the world will be your enemy, Prince with a Thousand Enemies, and whenever they catch you, they will kill you. But first they must catch you, digger, listener, runner, prince with the swift warning. Be cunning and full of tricks and your people shall never be destroyed.”

(I bolded the important part)

Sandleford's Chief Rabbit (EDIT: The Threarah) decided he liked things as they were and refused to change, and his people died. Cowslip and Co. allow themselves to be farmed and treat death as an inevitability, and they're slowly going mad and dying one by one. Gen. Woundwort teaches his Owsla to respond to every situation by fighting, and they break and flee when the unexpected happens. The ordinary rabbits of Efrafa are forced to live like hutch rabbits and they're miserable and not having babies.

Hazel does weird stuff…but he does so because he's in a weird situation and has to adapt. He listens to the other's concerns and ideas, he keeps an open mind, he figures out what resources are available to him, and then figures out how he can use them to protect his people.

In short? Unlike Woundwort, Cowslip & Co., or the unnamed Chief Rabbit of Sandleford EDIT: The Threarah, he is cunning and full of tricks.

(I think one of the reasons the BBC miniseries from a few years back didn't hit right is that they failed to get this)

Anyways, thanks for coming to my TED Talk

#Watership Down #Random Thoughts #Headcanons

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rosemarydisaster · 1 month

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I feel like Chani choosing to save Paul through the prophecy would make their reconciliation so much easier. I really dislike Jessica's use of the voice in general but especially at this moment.

It would have been such a great moment of tension with herself, completely devastated by the loss of her Usul. And then she remembers... the tears of the desert spring, a stupid prophecy. She isn't sure that's how it works. The desert spring is supposed to be a metaphor for the ecological change, right? But it is her name and she does feel like crying. She isn't convinced it will work because it's a silly prophecy, but she just has to try.

She springs into action she grabs the water of life and Jessica tries to stop her, probably thinking she's trying to join Paul. But Stilgar, who knows Chani's, name stops her. And Jessica sees her mix the tears with the water of life, she know another drop of it might either kill Paul or bring him back so she let's it happen, hoping for the best. We get some much needed nuance with her character, clearly worried about her son and asking Alia "what have we done?".

Chani, who doesn't believe in religious prophecies nor Bene Gesserit bullshit holds the two drops to Paul's mouth. A part of her simply wants to show everyone how stupid this is, how there's no prophecy, and how they're fanaticism has killed a great man. But then Paul wakes up.

The relief, the horror, the completely upending of her entire belief system... chef's kiss. She isn't sure if this is some Bene Gesserit thing, if Paul was pretending so he could get her to fulfill the prophecy. And then she hears Stilgar's voice "Tears of the desert spring".

Everyone around them drops to worship the Lisan Al-Gaib. Jessica is relieved, Stilgar is overjoyed and she's just confused. Paul tries to hold her, tk kiss her to thank her but she isn't ready. She feels tricked. She has spent her entire life believing one thing and now nothing makes sense.

So she keeps her distance, she tries to resist the prophecy that Paul himself called bullshit but she's confused. She isn't going to abandon her conviction that their savior must be Fremen. She remembers Paul asking in the tent if he's not Fremen enough after passing every test and she doubts.

She fights for the Fremen at the battle for Arrakeen, she does her part and she wonders if she had any choice at all. And then the thing with the princess happens, and she's distraught. Paul reassures her that he will love her as long as he breathes and it comforts her. At least until she remembers how he stopped breathing after the water of life. What's worst, he declares himself an emperor, forcing the old man to kiss his hand like a petulant child. And he threatens to destroy the spice if people don't accept him as their new ruler ...is too much.

She made a promise too, to love him as long as he remained himself. He changed and the most frightening thing is that she still loves him. She needs space, she needs the desert.

This would offer the possibility of Paul finding her and saying "You are angry at me for participating in the prophecy to save this planet but you used it to save me when you thought I was dying". He could try to convince her with that whole "when everything and everyone you love is at stake you'll take whatever chance you get" which is kinda how he locks himself in that specific future in the books.

I don't know they could have a conversation on how things would be different if he had died in Siege Tabur or after the water of life. He would explain to her (and the audience) the narrow golden path, and how the alternatives are so much worse.

I think it would be interesting if Chani comes to the conclusion that she has to end Paul's tyranny out of love, because her Usul would rather die than become a monster. But she pretends to accept Paul's argument (the audience unsure if she does buy it or not). That would set the stage for Dune Messiah much better and have a very interesting dynamic between the two (specially for that ending).

Jessica forcing her doesn't accomplish anything it only confirms for Chani that the Profe y is some Bene Gesserit bullshit (Jessica calls for her and forces her to do it). The reconciliation is going to be so much more difficult after that. Also, for a guy that wants to tell "a bene Gesserit story" the director is misusing Jessica. If they let her be more manipulative (talking to Alia about how the drop from the water of life will trigger the reaction for him to wake up) we could see how the prophecy is planted while allowing the Fremen to believe something magical happened. It would open Chani to her manipulation...but no, she had to scream.

I feel like, for all that they show us Jessica manipulating the religious people, that scene left a lot of people confused. I saw the people at the theater saying "wait so the prophecy is real" which is the last thing you want to do in a Dune adaptation.

What I described would only take two more minutes (and a lot of acting) but I think it would make the themes clearer and make Chani and Jessica a bit more interesting. I liked the movie but this is one of those moments I simply can't understand, specially from a fan of the Bene Gesserit.

#dune spoilers #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune 2 #dune movie #dune #chani kynes #paul atreides #lady jessica #bene gesserit

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blues824 · 1 year

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Could you do a fix that is dorm leaders x a reader who is like Nobara from jujitsu kaizen? Like most of the time she is goofy and a little bossy, always focused on her looks; but then during overblots she get really serious and a little phyco?

Targeted towards female reader, but no gender-specific pronouns are used.

Riddle Rosehearts

You both did not get along at the beginning. Not only would you not follow the Queen’s rules, but you viewed them as dumb. Plus, you often goofed off with Ace and Deuce and he definitely does not like that. In addition to all of that, you stood up for yourself against Riddle’s tyranny. And finally, you were obsessed with how you looked at all times.

However, when he overblotted, he saw you really put yourself and others to work. You took charge and ordered everyone around as you went in to attack. You were willing to inflict pain upon yourself, and he was put off by that significantly. He was no match for you, as you had passed Satoru’s test with flying colors back in your world.

It wasn’t until you were helping him in the infirmary that he got to see your more caring side. The way you looked at him was very uncharacteristically kind, but he welcomed it. You scolded him for not informing you that he was struggling with family issues beforehand, and he let out that classic anime sweatdrop.

But, now that the two of you were together, things were for the better. You still retained your very ‘superior’ attitude, but instead of you being #1, you and Riddle were #1. You often acted in his place because you were able to keep a level head in stressful situations, and even did a King of Hearts move where you would ask him to give a fair trial.

Leona Kingscholar

Again, you both did not get along at first, but that’s because your prideful personalities often clashed with each other. You both thought you were better than the other, and it didn’t work very well. But, to make him even more angry, you would often goof around with Ruggie so that he was delayed in a task that Leona had given him.

Once he had overblotted, however, he was taken by surprise at your amazing coordination and even level of psychopath-ness. It was very embarrassing for him how fast you were able to take him down. You even stood triumphantly before calming down and helping the nurse get him on a gurney and take him to the infirmary.

During his recovery period, he really got to see your more caring side that you usually reserved for Yuji and Megumi. Unfortunately, this side of you has been wanting to peak out but your friends weren’t there with you. So, Leona was the next best person. You scolded him when he tried to get up when he wasn’t supposed to, but he could tell that you were really worried.

After he was in the clear, you made sure to check on him more. You often brushed him off when he tried to tease you about being scared that he was going to die, saying that it was worrying how he hyped himself up so much only to be defeated in a 5-minute battle. He found your sarcastic attitude very attractive.

Azul Ashengrotto

He thought he would be able to manipulate your pride to get you into a contract, but you were already 5 steps ahead of him. Your training with Satoru Gojo wasn’t for nothing, after all. This often left him frustrated because you could be used as a bouncer or security guard of some sort for the Lounge since you knew how to fight and you fought well.

The second he overblotted, you were taking the reins. You ordered Jade and Floyd around better than he ever could, and he really underestimated your ability to fight as well as overestimated your sanity level. You went batshit crazy, and it freaked him out. And because he froze, you won.

You did help him to the infirmary and helped him through the healing process, and he always grew super flustered when you were especially caring. Like when you helped him sit up in the bed, the skin contact left him blushing. You then scolded him for getting a fever (even though that’s not what it was and he wouldn’t have control over it anyway).

From that point on, you both were great together. You only showed your softer side when you both were alone in his office, and he felt very honored to see that version of you. The two of you are somewhat concerned about your looks, but you make sure to give each other compliments so that you both feel better about yourselves.

Kalim Al-Asim

Kalim tries to see the good in everyone, and he likes your confidence. You always knew how to carry yourself. So, he acted as your cheerleader of sorts. Honestly, it worried you but also boosted your ego more than it should have because now you’re even more prideful than before, much to everyone else’s dismay.

When Jamil overblotted, Kalim got to see a whole other side of you. You took charge of the situation, and even though the Vice Housewarden was very meticulous, you had Gojo as a teacher. There was no way you would have disappointed him, and you wouldn’t have because the battle was relatively easy. Your love interest was very scared by your maniacal look, though.

Once the two of you were reunited, you let out a huge sigh of relief as you ran into his arms. You were exhausted because it has been overblot after overblot after overblot, and the Scarabia Housewarden can see it. So, he led you by the hand to his room where he had you lay down on his bed to get some rest.

Over the next few days, he got to see your softer (but still tsundere) side. As he tried to feed you some of the food that his dorm members made, you would often comment on how you could feed yourself. He wasn’t having any of it, though, as he held the utensil to your mouth for you to take a bite.

Vil Schoenheit

Another case where your personalities clashed. Not only that, but you both were beautiful as well, so it started a rivalry between the two of you. Then there was the fact that since Epel was one of your friends you would often either goof off with him or break him out/make an excuse as to why you needed him so that he could get out of doing his makeup or skincare.

He thought you were just reckless and prideful, until he overblotted. You were like an entirely different person as you took charge and ordered everyone around so that it wouldn’t be too chaotic as you went up against him one-on-one. He thought you were foolish for doing that, but you won by a very large margin.

In the infirmary, he had the chance of seeing your more tender self. You didn’t even care that Vil didn’t have any makeup on as you dabbed a damp towel upon his forehead for the sweat. Even though you denied being worried, he could tell that that wasn’t the truth. Don’t worry though, because your secret is safe with him.

Once the two of you got romantically involved, Vil realized that maybe he didn’t need to compete with Neige all the time. If he had you by his side, then he’s already won. Not only were you a perfect match for him, but you matched him intellectually. It’s like you could read each other’s minds. You knew when the other needed rest.

Idia Shroud

He was very intimidated by you, but this is one of those cases where you lead and he follows. He is a worshiper, often agreeing when you claim superiority over everyone else. But the only reason is because he’s scared you’re gonna beat him up. Poor baby is trembling in his shoes whenever you’re around.

The minute he overblotted, he knew what you were capable of. So, as a result, he posed more of a challenge than you originally expected. No matter, since he had only seen your prideful side and not your insane side that can be very spontaneous. There was no predictable pattern in your actions, and so he was defeated.

Oh, man. We could start an entire romance show with an entire season focused on you helping Idia in his recovery. Feelings were discovered and explored, and you showed how you really felt even though you really tried to rein it in. It was like a cheesy fanfiction trope that no one can resist.

After, the two of you put an official title on your relationship. Everyone was shocked when you came out holding hands and they watched as you helped him to Ignihyde. You shouted at everyone else to mind their own business when they started whispering amongst themselves, and you were pretty close to throwing hands with Ace and Deuce for snickering.

Malleus Draconia

The fae Prince is very amused by your confidence. You are no damsel in distress, and he respects that. He might even humor you and agree that you were the best, and it wasn’t truly false at all since he did think you were wonderful. You were his first friend outside of his retainers or his dormitory.

He has heard of your fights with the overblot phantoms, and he has to say that what he has gleaned from the gossip is that you had a different side of you when you fought in battle. It almost sounds like you went feral, even harming yourself in the process but not caring. All this man really cared about was that you were able to fend for yourself and he was proud.

But, what no one else knows is that you had a third side to you, and it was a more loving side. As the two of you walked under the moonlight each night, you walked arm-in-arm with each other and just basked in each other’s presence. Even though you could be very chaotic, this was a very good way for you to wind down after dealing with NRC’s shenanigans.

Unfortunately, the quiet never lasts since you and Sebek often get into arguments since you both were very prideful. Before you had the chance to accept the knight’s invitation to a proper duel, Malleus stepped in and refused for fear of his retainer dying at your hands. It left you disappointed for the rest of the day, but that’s okay.

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sixth-light · 2 months

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Having a fascinating conversation with @markantonys and @butterflydm in notes about the Tower Coup (& how it will go in the show) and I need to take my thoughts to a post, in roughly this order:

How did it START in the books vs how did it END?

What changed along the way and where did that work/not work?

With the benefit of hindsight, how could the show make this arc more coherent?

How it started vs how it ended

The Tower Coup starts in the books as a pretty clear moral issue: Siuan is deposed on the sketchiest of pretenses, she and Leane are tortured and stilled immediately, a lot of people die, and Elaida dissolves the Blue Ajah (basically all our friendly Aes Sedai up until this point are Blue). That's a lot! Then the Tower faction, on Elaida's orders, also kidnap and torture Rand. By the time Egwene is raised as Amyrlin we're fully ready to get behind her taking names and kicking Elaida's ass. Elaida is doing nothing to help her own cause, instead descending into paranoia and tyranny with nobody at the Tower doing anything to stop her.

And then...from ACoS on it becomes clear that there's plenty of Tower Aes Sedai who are good people (the Black Ajah Hunter plotline), and also that the Black Ajah and the Forsaken are working both sides of the conflict to keep it as amped up as possible. However, at the same time the Tower is collapsing into conflict, the Salidar camp under Egwene is rewriting the rules in a way that the books make clear offer the Aes Sedai as an institution new relevance and scope, by opening the novice book to all who wish to apply. Meanwhile, the Seanchan return and the seams of the Pattern start to fray because the Last Battle is getting real close now. By the time Egwene is kidnapped by the Tower, her mission becomes to negotiate the Tower Aes Sedai as a group (rather than Elaida, who is too far gone) into dealing with the real existential problems the Tower faces - the Seanchan and Tarmon Gai'don - rather than 'winning'. Once we hit the Sanderson books we're fully into 'the Tower is fine, it just needed to have the right person leading it', Gawyn's storyline is revealed (charitable) or mildly retconned (uncharitable) so that the Warders attacked first and he and the other Younglings were arguably justified in fighting them, and Egwene ends up demanding that the Salidar Aes Sedai apologise for their rebellion before the Tower is reunited under her.

Was this a change of direction? How well did it work?

I would argue that in general scope the Tower arc was always meant to end with a reconciliation between the two sides in order to face down the real enemy - Elaida literally Foretells this very early on in the piece, and it's signalled frequently that besieging Tar Valon with an army, even if it feels like the only option, is playing into the hands of the Shadow and supported by Darkfriends within the Salidar camp. There's also a strong theme throughout the final RJ books of our heroes having to make their peace with people they are fighting in order to effectively confront the Shadow. E.g., Perrin is rewarded for his truce with the Seanchan by getting Faile back. So I'm pretty sure the plan was always for Egwene to reunite the Tower by winning the respect and allegiance of crucial people within the Tower faction, rather than military action, and for the conflict between the two sides to be decisively derailed by a Seanchan attack.

HOWEVER.

I also feel pretty strongly that the way that arc finally ends feels like a weird and hard swerve towards 'rebelling was wrong actually' and ignores the extremely real grievances that caused the Blue Ajah and their allies to gather in Salidar in the first place. Despite the Ajah Heads' plotting there is never any viable path to negotiation presented to the Salidar faction - yes, some of this is down to the work of the Black Ajah but like. Tarna Feir wasn't Black! Elaida wasn't Black! None of the non-Red Ajah Heads were Black! The Tower as an institution is pretty fundamentally broken and instead of a renewal and a vision of what it could look like in the future, what we get in the last two books is kind of...a return to BAU except Egwene is in charge now...? and also we stop checking in with all the Aes Sedai we know in favour of charity namedrops, yes I'm still mad forever thanks. I think some of this is exacerbated by Sanderson but I do also think it's the result of RJ having a pretty sketchy idea of how the post-unification Tower was going to look or act except knowing there were crucial plot points to hit in terms of the conflict being derailed by the Seanchan attacking the Tower, and Egwene and Rand clashing before the Last Battle.

In addition, for me personally, Elaida in TGS is also almost a parody of her original self - she's a sexual harasser, she's physically violent - in a way that sure you can write off as the influence of Padan Fain but feels cartoonish. I think this is somewhat of a minority opinion but this makes Egwene's whole Reason You Suck speech very unsatisfying to me! None of it engages with why Elaida was able to become Amyrlin in the first place. It's not a tragedy, it's a farce.

Anyway, it's all a bit unsatisfying and the big question I have is...

How could the show do it better?

The show 100% has the benefit of hindsight and being able to simplify down its story instead of try and tie up ALL the dangling threads - it can just not weave those threads in to start with! - so I think it has huge potential to make this arc more elegant plot-wise and emotionally. For me there's three key ways it could do this:

Make Elaida a charismatic leader (to start with) Largely due to the books/RJ wanting the coup to come as a shock, we have very little insight into how Elaida persuades the Hall to take down Siuan and we never see Elaida as a genuinely charismatic leader people might want to follow. Coming after Siuan, sure - why choose her as leader? If the show can demonstrate why people follow her, it will make the Tower faction seem more reasonable to start with. And there's endless material to mine from the books in terms of her slide into tyranny as a more subtle and tragic arc.

Give the Salidar Aes Sedai a genuine chance to back down I don't think it's bad for readers' expectations to be challenged, but through the books it's really hard to see what other genuine options the Salidar Aes Sedai but particularly the Blue Ajah actually had. Elaida never resiles on her proclamation disbanding them; that's cataclysmically bad given how the structure of the Tower traditionally works. Frankly it should have made a lot more Tower Aes Sedai (and independents) turn against her! For the Salidar Aes Sedai to have any genuine apology to make at the end, they need to have a choice to reunite that they could take...and not take it. I think it's obvious in her later appearances that Tarna Feir was meant to be a 'Worst Person You Know Has A Point' character but that's left on the table for a loooooooooooong time through the Slog.

Show how the Tower has changed for the better Egwene's demand is part and parcel of her fairly sudden change into an Amyrlin who is basically happy with the Tower running as it always has, but with her and her people in charge now. Let's see how the post-reunification Tower is a genuinely different place which has learned from its experiences! Let's see how the influx of novices and new organisational systems, as well as the new engagement with the Windfinders and Wise Ones, are requiring Aes Sedai to contemplate new ways of doing things! Let's see Egwene leave a goddamn legacy that will outlive her. Going out in a blaze of glory is all well and good but that's what makes the Tower Coup arc have meaning. The Tower broke but wasn't defeated.

Anyway, that's enough brain-dumping - interested in what other people have to say about this!

#wheel of time #wot book spoilers #wot tv show #aes sedai #meta #egwene al'vere #elaida do avriny a'roihan

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