#I don't know the elf's middle name yet

[holokaylan]

MY FIRST COMPLETELY DIGITAL WORK!!

These are two of my OCs (non-canon)

The colors on the computer and on the cell phone are different, the flamingo is very vibrant but it looks really cool

[queers-gambit]

Bait and Switch

prompt: ( requested ) Adar knows you by surname and reputation, but makes a fatal mistake: underestimating the mutual desire to reunite with your husband.

pairing: Elrond x female!wife!reader -> hair color specified reader that does not specify race

fandom masterlist: The Rings of Power

word count: 7.7k+

note: did i steal the Targaryen hair color? "obviously," - Severus Snape. but don't let HOTD's wigs fool you - this hair color is NOT indicative of race.

warnings: reader insert for the haters, spoilers, cursing, angst, hurt and comfort, fuck tone of ellipsis 'cause Adar talks slow. POW!Reader (prisoner of war), violence, blood, injury, depiction of medical phenomenon (cauterization), slight gore (Reader bites off an Orc finger). healthy family dynamics, embedded Aragorn quote, Middle-earth fire is hotter than reality so JUST. roll. with. it. okay? okay. also, this requires a lot of imagination 'cause author invents really random lore but have fun with it. not edited, author can't see straight so what the fuck is this?

incarnate: embody or represent (a diety or spirit) in human form

"We found an Elf still alive, Lord Father!"

Adar watched lazily as one of his children stood over a body covered by toxic volcanic ash; twitching as it regained consciousness. "Kill it," he answered simply. The Orc snarled in pleasure and bent to grab the Elf's head; gripping their hair aggressively, yanking their head up - possibly snapping the Elf's spine - and lifted his blade in the air. However, the clump of hair was familiar and suddenly, Adar was barking, "Wait!"

Not many Elves had this particular hair color. It was dyed from soot and ash, but he could recognize the bright, platinum white-blonde hair. While some Elves were extremely fair yellow-blonde, this was white - like the purest of snows. And Adar only knew this trait belonged to one single bloodline.

The Incarnated, a single brood blessed by the Valar to give them unnatural strength and skill in battle. They were impressive, formidable foes; and typically, never lost a fight, battle, or war. They were absolutely brutish, almost impossible to kill, yet humble, generous, and kind.

Their aim always found the bullseye. Broadswords able to sever bone. Morality skewed more positive than simple neutrality. Silver tongues sharpened to prick the ears that listen.

However, it should be noted that even the Incarnated cannot withstand against the eruption of a volcano.

The Orc snarled with confusion now, hissing through his bloody teeth but not lowering the Elf. Adar strolled over, glaring at their captive, but slowly lowering himself to a squat as the Orc presented his finding. Adar's eyes squinted, reaching out and musing the trademark locks out of the Elf's face; smirking as he caressed her cheek free of ash.

He growled your name, sight still hazy from the eruption of what will later be known as Mount Doom - yet could still recognize sounds. Slowly, you blinked and tried to focus, groaning as pain in your scalp burned and prickled; spine bowed from the horribly painful position.

"Adar?" You whispered in confusion.

"You remember me."

You scoffed, slurring slightly, "You left quite a lasting impression."

His hand dropped to push hair from your neck and shoulder, revealing a long blemish from his dagger years ago. "And here we meet yet again," Adar chuckled. "Release her," he told his child, who instantly dropped you with a grunt; ash puffing up on impact. "Come," Adar offered his hand as you tried to sit up with trembling limbs, "we've still farther to go."

"Fuck you," you seethed, spitting at him; ready for the pain to end after the displacement and turmoil of your people. You had been with the Númenoreans, along with Commander Galadriel, and this... "King" Halbrand; celebrating victory against Adar's first volley of Orcs when the explosion happened; spewing toxicity into the earth, through the air, and evidently, over the area to distinguish what will be known as Mordor.

"Hm," Adar considered your weak form, chuckling. "Get her up," he commanded, standing, and watching as chains were slapped to your wrists and ankles before being tossed into a bloody, maggot-infested, wood-rotting wagon.

Seemingly eons away, Elrond was being informed of your assumed demise. Your husband refused to believe it, but by the solemn look of the messenger, his greatest companion, Galadriel, he knew there was weighted truth to her words.

"Did you see her?" Elrond asked.

"See her fall? No - "

"Did you even look for her?"

"Of course we did, but it was too dangerous to linger longer than what we'd been there for."

Elrond's head shook, "No. No... I won't believe it - "

"I know it's difficult to accept, but... She's gone, Elrond."

"I would know if my wife is dead," Elrond snarled uncharacteristically. "Believe what you wish, but I know she still lives."

Galadriel knew better than to argue; she, herself, spent years of denial after Sauron murdered her brother, Finrod. So she gave Elrond space to process what he'd learned.

Yet while a circumstantially redeeming quality, Elrond was stubborn and confident in his morals and opinions. So, he refused to believe your life was lost; something in his gut twisted knowingly, assuring you were just misplaced and surely, soon to be home. Elrond knew you had a flair for the dramatic, so, he just prayed this was one of those times - where you wouldn't reappear until the very last second to make an entrance.

Yet Adar took every precaution to ensure you did not escape or could be rescued. He didn't parade you around, he kept you hidden away to prevent gossip from revealing your location. You were constantly left chained to posts by rusting irons, no comfort offered, no reprieve; nothing to pass your annoying suffering a little easier. You were fed just enough to be kept alive, you were allowed to wash yourself with a single cloth every few weeks - but typically with an Orcish audience watching, claiming they're "on duty". You lost use of your tongue after so many months had passed without a single indication aid had been deployed - hope shattered and futile.

You wondered if Elrond knew. You worried he thought you lost to the war. In vain, you prayed he didn't give up on you. However, you were logical and logic screamed at you that nobody would come - there was no point! You would've believed being told someone perished, too, if you heard of such circumstances.

Despite being an Incarnated, you were emotionally drained. Though, it's worth noting that under normal circumstances, you would've NEVER ended up in this position; but because of your vulnerable state and the opportunity was too good to pass up, Adar prided himself on "defeating you". He didn't know that you were beyond patient; waiting, observing, listening, leaning routines and schedules. Any opportunity you identified, you searched for anything that could help you escape; something sharp, small enough to pick the lock of your irons. You were Incarnated - your will to survive (even out of pure spite) rivaled that of any enemy.

Camp to camp, you were moved. Day by day, you lost a little more sanity. Nights grew cold, days short.

You were surprised when a pair of Orcs lumbered into "your" room, unlocking you from the post but keeping the chains on your wrists in place. They yanked you behind them, shoved you into Adar's tented shelter then forced you to your knees before the food-filled banquet table.

"And of course, there's her," Adar waved at you lazily, smirking when his newest prisoner of war sat forward with a gobsmacked expression.

She whispered your name, head snapping up to find your companion, Commander Galadriel, sat at the opposite head of the table to Adar. You smiled slightly and whispered her name softly, aware of your appearance and how straggly, despondent, and wary you must look.

"What is the meaning of this?" Galadriel demanded, the emotion in her thick voice making it crack.

"We found her," Adar smirked, "after you and your people abandoned her."

"We did not - "

"She's been... An honored guest of ours," Adar cut Galadriel off. "Her hair - it's a rare trait, I knew who she was when she was found. Figured she could truly help... Turn the tides in this war."

"You do not know what you've done," Galadriel breathed. "If her kin knew you held her, they would raze your camp into the dirt and return your children to darkness."

"You think... I do not understand the risks of holding an Incarnated? I have faced them before, known their wrath... But against Sauron, it was a necessary risk to take."

"Why?"

"You must see," Adar explained, "that it is not His lies which must be extinguished. It. Is. Him." He paused, revealing, "And I can help you do it." Adar leaned forward in his chair, "I can help you destroy Sauron, and should you value your friend's life, you will let me help you."

"What help could you possibly provide, Orc?" Galadriel spat, now leaned back casually in the chair Adar sat her in.

"Uruk," Adar corrected in Black Speech, standing from his seat to venture towards the side of the room. He stood before a plain wooden box, lifting the lid, and revealing in his hands:

"Morgoth's crown," Galadriel sat up. "I was told - "

"There are many stories of what happened after the Silmarils were pried from its setting," Adar validated. "But I was there when Sauron re-fired it to fit Himself. I was there when He kneeled to be crowned. And I was the one who used its power to slay Him."

Adar set the crown to the table, your stomach growling at the sight and smell of full platters.

"If what you say is true... Why did He return?" Galadriel asked.

"Because I had not yet found you, as I have her," he gestured at you.

"What part are we to play in this?"

"It is said the Three Elven Rings saved your people from fading. Is it true?" When Galadriel didn't answer, Adar nodded at one of his children standing over you; making the Orc bash you in the temple. "Is it true?" Adar repeated over your whimper of pain.

"Yes," Galadriel grit, glaring at the small dribble of fresh blood dripping down the side of your face. She decided red wasn't your color - no matter how much your husband liked seeing you in it.

"Then perhaps... Together, this crown and your Rings would be powerful enough to truly destroy Sauron forever. The Deceiver believes he is still beyond my grasp... But I know he hides in Eregion. And I suspect you know for certain... Halbrand is Sauron... Isn't he?"

You laughed a little, "Halbrand? Sauron? Come off it, you're mistaken. Go on, Commander, tell him - tell him." Galadriel was silent as she was overwhelmed by her memories. "Commander, tell him he's wrong! Halbrand isn't Sauron, tell him he's mistaken!"

Adar mistook the silence as her being defiant, nodding to his son again in permission. So, the Orc swiftly backhanded you with enough force, it literally toppled you backwards with a groan.

"I kept her alive... For you," Adar growled, bearing his teeth at the Elleth. "But I'll execute her at nightfall if you continue down this path of resistance. The fate of that city and your friend now rests on your ability to put aside your pride." Galadriel's teary eyes casted over you, sprawled out on the floor - not finding the use in sitting up to your knees again. "I suggest you find the will to do so... If you can, for everyone's sake." Adar removed the crown from the table and placed it back in its box, Galadriel hissing your name, only receiving a nonverbal thumbs up to indicate you were okay. When the Father of Uruks returned, he clipped matching irons to Galadriel's wrist before snatching up his sword, tossing over his shoulder, "We will speak again. I'll give you until nightfall to decide."

The Orcs filed out of the room after Adar, leaving you on the ground and chained to a spare post. Slowly, you tried to sit up and use the beam as support; grimacing in pain that made your friend question, "Are you hurt?"

"They're not the most merciful lot," you tried to joke with a smirk, but it turned into a wince, "but I've been through worse, I'll be fine. Listen to me, Galadriel," you sniffled, "you can't tell Adar anything. I don't care if he's gutting me, you don't tell him - "

"I would not have your life ended on my account, it would be as if swinging the sword myself!" Galadriel argued with heat.

"Adar is not your ally," you scoffed, "nor are the Orcs - look at what they've done! Continue to do! Do not be so foolish! So blinded, please, I beg you, my friend. If you tell him about Sauron, yes, your enemy might be vanquished, but you could be creating an entirely new and future enemy that all of Middle-earth must endure. My life is not worth that."

"It's worth more."

You smirked, "Don't forget who I am, friend; I am Incarnated, and I will not die easily nor without a fight. Adar will not succeed in my death so easily."

Galadriel shook her head, "If I do not indulge Adar with information I have and you lose your life because of that, Elrond would never forgive me."

You gave a watery smile, sniffling, "How is he?"

The Elf shook her head, "He's... He refuses to accept your fate, operates on a shorter fuse, he's mourning - even if he doesn't acknowledge or believe he is."

"It's not that I don't love you, my friend, but... I'll miss him the most," you let a single tear fall, a wistful smile toying on your lips. "You'll look out for him, won't you? Just... Just don't let him be alone, please. He'll try to push you away, but be patient; he'll need you and I'll rest easier knowing you'll be there."

"I won't do as you ask," Galadriel grit. "Look at you!"

"How can you be so confident that the moment you tell Adar what he wants to know, he won't kill me anyway?"

"Because Adar appears a man of rationality - unlike Sauron - "

You scoffed, "None of them are rational, Galadriel! They have their own agendas - and none of them benefit the likes of us! Don't tell him anything else, I don't care if he's gutting me like a pig, you don't say anything!"

"I can't agree to that," Galadriel shook her head, "I won't, not when there's a chance we can both get out of this alive."

"And if we survive just to witness the eradication of our people!?" Galadriel was silent, bowing her head. With a sigh, you asked, "Where's Nenya?"

"Safe with Elrond."

"Oh?" You chuckled. "How'd that happen? You have to break his finger off to put it on?"

Galadriel gave a breathy chuckle, "He needed a bit of convincing, but with the greater good at stake - he was left no choice."

With a smirk of amusement, you nodded slowly, then requested, "Could you promise me something decently reasonable?"

"I can try."

"If you make it outta here and I don't - "

"Do not say that!"

"Galadriel, just - stop for a moment and listen to me, please. If you get out of here and I do not, tell Elrond what happened. Tell him Adar found me after the volcano erupted, kept me prisoner, and that I tried." Tears brimmed your waterline, "Tell him I tried to escape, to get back to him... But if I don't make it and you do, please, tell him I love him - more than anything. Tell him I'll wait for him on white shores."

"Tell him yourself."

As promised, when night fell, Adar returned. His second in command, Glüg, approached you with a brandished sword and laid it at your neck with a cruel and twisted expression.

"Have you made your decision?" Adar questioned, Galadriel looking between him and the threat to your life. "Choose wisely, or I'll let my children bleed her; right here, right now. Tell me what I've asked."

"Don't tell him shit, Galadriel!" You barked in a last ditch effort, earning a balled-up-armored fist to rock your jaw. You spit a glob of blood to the side, snarling at Glüg, "You hit like like a bitch." He spit on you.

With a huff, Galadriel exposed, "Yes, Halbrand is Sauron. He's in Eregion to craft Rings that will allow Him to dominate my kind... And yours."

"Every kind in Middle-earth," Adar corrected.

Quickly, Galadriel rushed, "But He will not attempt escape until His task is complete. And that gives us a momentary advantage."

"'Us'?" The Father repeated.

"Unlock me."

"Galadriel! Think for a second!" You snapped, but Glüg pressed his blade deeper into your throat. You seethed, frustrated and angry tears turning suffocating. Adar approached your friend, eyes trained on her, causing the Elleth to look away in discomfort as Adar undid the iron cuff on Galadriel's wrist.

"As we speak, Y/N's husband, Elrond, hastens from Lindon with an army of Elves..." She boldly looked at Adar, you struggling against the blade at the sound of Elrond's name, "And Nenya, my Ring."

"Galadriel! Stop, don't say another word! Silence yourself!" You begged, whimpering shrilly when blood flowed from Glüg's disgustingly dirty blade.

"I see," Adar turned from the Elf.

You were ignored and Galadriel rose from her seat, following Adar while continuing, "Once he arrives, he will seal off the city, loose Celebrimbor from Sauron's grasp, and then together... Uruk, you and I will eradicate all trace of Sauron from this world. Never to return."

"And what then?" Adar questioned.

"Any Ring that have known his touch must be destroyed."

"I meant, what then for the Uruk? Will your High King permit us to return home in peace? Or will he proceed with his plans to invade Mordor? The shadow has not only overcome you, it has overcome all of Elvendom. In the end, your drive to prove your virtue will work right into Sauron's designs."

"You speak lies," Galadriel whispered as if in disbelief. "Hoping I will reveal something."

"You have already revealed everything I hoped you would and more."

You groaned and tossed your head back into the beam; a harsh thump echoing as Adar charged out of the tent with Galadriel and Glüg on his heels.

"Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel struggled in her restraints, unable to stray far from her seat as two Orcs entered the tent and began unclipping your irons. You didn't fight them, rolling your tired eyes as they began dragging you out on your backside. "NO! NO! Where are you taking her!?" Galadriel sobbed, on her feet, trying to follow.

"Remember your promise," you told her, forcing yourself to find contentment that your friend could be the last friendly image your brain would register.

"No, please! Please! You will not profit from her death! I have told you what your Father wanted, now release her! Her death will not profit you, but instead, will bring about your utter ruin! Please! Y/N!"

The Orcs ignored Galadriel's pleas, dragging you from the tent and amongst the snarling, snapping Orcs. Adar stood before a cart big enough for a single prisoner, smirking, giving his children command in Black Speech to load you inside. He watched, telling you, "Galadriel says your husband is on his way with an army. Surely, the sight of his wife might give Commander Elrond pause. The knowledge that you're alive will bring him to my table."

You were strung up by your arms, spread in exposure, tarps thrown over the cage to effectively cut you off from the rest of the world. You felt the cage rattle as you were lugged through mud. You couldn't identify hardly anything... Until a familiar horn bellowed in the short distance, making your chest tighten. While excited by the prospect of a rescue, you loathed the idea of Elrond running head first into a trap.

Your Elven ears picked up on the sound of thundering horse hooves, knowing your people (kin, too) were charging towards Adar's army; who were swiftly gathering in organized ranks. Your cage came to a halt, and a moment later, you flinched when the front-facing tarp was ripped down and the light above Eregion glared down on you. You were greeted with the sight of your husband surging closer on horseback, time seemingly slowing when your eyes locked and he registered who Adar's prisoner was.

You flinched when an Orc pressed the tip of their blade into your already injured neck, reopening a wound to send a single stream of blood steadily flowing.

"Halt!" Elrond called in Sindarin, the entire procession coming to an almost synchronized halt. He sized up the enemy, but kept letting his eyes glaze over you - disbelief coloring his expression. Elrond's horse stamped in place, Adar stepping forward to speak.

"Welcome, Commander Elrond."

"Y/N!" A voice shouted from the army, Elrond's head snapping over in time to see your siblings - three brothers, two sisters - dismounting their horses.

"Wait, wait!" Elrond barked at them, holding a hand up; your siblings halting themselves.

"Wise," Adar taunted, your irons noisily rattling when you tried to adjust your stance.

In Sindarin, you called to your eldest brother, "Do what needs done, do not spare my life for this foolishness! Take them down! Be done with it! Rid us of their filth!"

"I should think... Commander Elrond would like to hear my proposal first," Adar told you casually.

"I think they should put you and children in the dirt!" You spat, earning several snarls, growls, and hisses from the surrounding Orcs.

Elrond encouraged his horse forward, standing in the sunlight highlighting 'no man's land'. He glared at Adar, but asked you, "Are you hurt?"

"Only my ego," you assured.

His eyes flickered over to Adar, then nodded, "I will hear you first."

"You're wasting your time," you told him in Sindarin.

"On you, it's not a waste," he answered stiffly, almost angrily. "I would have her set free for the duration of our parlay."

"But of course," Adar agreed, being carted away at his Blackened command. Due to the tarps hanging over the other 3 sides of your prison, you lost sight of Elrond; forced to blindly follow instruction and behave.

The Elves were not permitted weapons in the Uruk camp.

Elrond dismounted his horse with Vorohil and your eldest brother, Iallion, who insisted on going to gauge your state, in time to watch the Orcs yank you from the cart and drag you into a tent as if your legs were of no use. It was all he needed to know to understand your treatment the past few months you've been 'missing'. His hand clapped Adar's shoulder before the Father of Orcs could pass him by, snarling, "If I come to learn you've been mistreating my wife, I assure you, there will be consequences."

Adar just chuckled and lead the way into his tent. Several Orcs shoved Elrond's shoulder and forced him, his second-in-command, and your brother to follow.

Inside, Elrond noted the walls lined with Orcs, all surrounding their prisoners of war - you and Commander Galadriel. The blonde Elleths were shackled to the same post, both standing, though, you were leaning into the beam for support as it appeared you could not stand on your own. When you noted their arrival, you perked up slightly, but not enough to wash away the worry he felt.

Elrond was offered a seat, just staring down Adar, who began, "The Ring you carry... Show it to me."

Elrond snarled, "Show me the care you've taken of my wife."

"She is perfectly healthy... As you can see. The Ring, Commander..."

Elrond glared for several long minutes, then answered, "A foolish act if I had brought it here."

"You are a courtier," Adar pointed out. "More suited to wielding a scroll than a sword."

"You've never seen me wield either."

"And yet," Adar's head cocked slightly, "I have faced the Incarnated and won. Beside Sauron, there's none alive... Entitled to those rights."

Iallion demanded in a snarl, "How came you by my sister? You say you won against her - where?"

"Didn't win a fucking thing! The bastards found me; facedown in volcanic soot after the battle with the Númenoreans. I told you to keep charging - you should've kept charging," you answered, earning a swift kick to the back of your knee; making it buckle and ram the post.

"Touch her again and I'll slaughter everyone in here," Elrond threatened.

"You so much as twitch - "

"And one of your children shall kill me? My wife? My men? You think I am not aware of that fact, do you honestly think I wouldn't risk life and limb for my wife? Do not. Touch. Her."

Adar just stared at Elrond, then nodded, "Fair enough. Though, if she speaks again... Cut out her tongue."

Elrond, Iallion, and Vorohil all sat forward when Glüg's blade chimed as it was deployed from the sheath; another couple Orcs shuffling and snarling forward to box you in. Your eyes rolled when the same dagger pressed unforgivingly to the pulse point beneath the hinge of your jaw.

Adar continued, "Sauron is my enemy as much as yours... Give me what I need to defeat Him and let us be rid of Him."

"Is it not you that has done his bidding by laying siege to Eregion?" Elrond countered.

"Eregion has fallen into shadow... It belongs to the Deceiver now, as does every Elf within its walls."

"Not Lord Celebrimbor," your husband tried to refuted, desperate to believe there was still some good left to fight for.

"It was Celebrimbor himself who welcomed Sauron in. You cannot save him... You can...save...them," Adar explained, naturally making Elrond look to you still held at knife point. Galadriel was uncharacteristically silent, chained to the same post, facing one another. "It is an earnest offer... I suggest you take it," punctuated Adar before he rose from his chair. "And leave Sauron to me..."

"Right, 'cause that worked sooo well last time," you scoffed, making every Elven eye widen in surprised shock. "You're the reason He still lives, you're forcing us all to do your bidding and fight against Him!" When an Orc's hand rose in a sudden movement to grip your chin - intending to hold open so Glüg could amputate your tongue - you simply reacted out of panic by erratically whipping your head to the side in time to catch the Orc's hand. His pointer finger landed between your teeth, too slow on the draw; losing the finger to the single, incredible chomp as if a root vegetable.

The Orc screamed in pain, spitting the finger and causing black blood to coat your lips like sadistic make-up.

"Lord Father - "

Adar silenced Glüg with a hand in the air, the injured Orc being escorted from the tent; hissing at you in a way that made you smirk. The Father of Orcs glanced at you, demanding, "Quiet," before slowly moved around the banquet table. He complimented Elrond, "You have the beauty of your foremother, Melian of the Valar. If even a fragment of her wisdom is in your veins... You must know you cannot defeat me in battle. I will outmaneuver you... My forces outfight yours... And you will fall."

"Not before you have painted the sands of the Glanduin black," Elrond stood to meet Adar, "with the blood of your kin."

You smirked slightly, always having faith Elrond would choose responsibility over emotion - something Galadriel was increasingly struggling with and unable to master. Glüg lowered his blade when he heard Elrond's threat - thinking this war was meant to played with strategy, not overwhelming numbers that would discard Orcish life without thought or consideration.

Adar assured, "My children have endured cruelties your bravest couldn't bear to hear spoken aloud."

"Are you prepared to spend their lives so freely... Adar?" Elrond questioned, using the Uruk's name as if an insult. "Are they?" He asked the room, letting his eyes bore into those of few Orcs to truly drive his words and plant seeds of doubt.

Adar didn't respond, pausing, then demanding, "You may haggle over Galadriel... But it's the Ring for your wife's life. What is it to be?"

Elrond's eyes locked with yours, noting the way your head shook. He slowly stalked around Adar, his hand unsuspectingly unclipping the decorative detail of his cloak's shoulder broach. His teary gaze lifted to lock with yours, portraying his apology and grief, then turning to Adar, "Ask me on the field, when the neck with a blade against it is yours."

Orcs hissed.

"Very well," Adar accepted, sounding genuinely disappointed. "I suppose not all vows are kept sacred... I will meet you there... With your wife's head on a pike."

Elrond held Adar's attention, relenting, "If that is to be the way of things, I should like to bid her farewell."

Adar's eyes shifted to Glüg's over Elrond's shoulder, the Orc assuring, "He's unarmed."

Interesting, you mused to yourself, he saw Elrond's broach but doesn't report it? Perhaps this war caused tension among their legion - beginning to question the man they followed.

After Adar's nod, Elrond turned to approach the beam in record break time. "My love," he greeted softly, tears evident and ready to spill. You both just stared at each other, unable to accept or process being within proximity to one another after being apart for so long - and only now, reunited to say goodbye. "Forgive me," Elrond whispered in Sindarin.

"Win," you answered in a matching hushed volume. "And if you don't, meet me on white shores."

He nodded, hand lifted to caress your cheek in disbelief; shuddering at the feel of your flesh. "I've missed you past the point of words, my star," he frowned.

"No more than I you."

You snuggled into his hand, stomach lurching when he leaned forward to press his final kiss to your lips. It wasn't passionate, but something chaste for show only; your chained hands reaching to hold his free one as it was all you could reach. The broach's center was pressed to your palm, your tear streaking through grimy cheeks when he pulled back to rest his forehead on yours. "I love you," he swore.

"I love you, too," you whimpered, bottom lip trembling with emotion as Adar looked to the ground. You wished to say your acting skills were that good to be truly deceptive, but in reality, something in your intuition refused to let you believe you'd survive this.

Hating the look of devastation on your otherwise devastatingly beautiful features, Elrond leaned in again before hushing against your lips, "Be ready."

"Be smart."

Elrond nodded, kissed you one last time before pulling back. Almost as if in pain, he turned, unable to handle being so close so improperly; causing him to snap, "Iallion, Vorohil," who flanked his tail upon their exit of the Uruk tent.

You sniffled, leaning on the beam in exhaustion, still playing into the facade you thought Elrond was trying to silently communicate. You weren't defeated yet; the pin kept in your clenched fist to cause indentations from the star-point design.

Outside, Iallion and Vorohil questioned Elrond's confidence, being told a legion of Dwarves had been summoned to march to Eregion's aid; telling his second to guide the army to the battle while he held the city. Before trotting away, Elrond pulled on his helmet and told the two in Sindarin, "And it starts with the rescue of my wife and decimation of this camp."

You used Elrond's pin to pick Galadriel's lock first, insisting she had to flee before anyone caught you. She tried to refuse, something about loyalty or other, but you all but shoved her away from you and snarled for her to leave you.

"Elrond's near," you reminded her, "I'm not going anywhere."

"He's coming for you," she realized.

"Did you have any doubt?"

She chuckled, "I suppose not."

"Get out of here," you cocked your head, indicating she flee out the tent flap. You focused on your own lock as the sounds of invasion echoed around the camp. Praying Galadriel found a way to disguise herself, you struggled to unlock your irons; hearing someone rush into the tent behind you.

"You!"

An Orc was surging up to you in record time, bloody dagger in hand, twisted snarl curling his lip. You dropped the pin on accident, unable to retrieve it; but having enough mind to wait until the Orc was a foot from you, stepping back, extending your chains. The Orc slashed directly into the weakened metal, severing your bond, but the loss of tension made you flop backwards; rolling over your shoulder and onto your feet.

The Orc, ever graceful, hacked wildly at you; forcing you to go on the defense and dodge his attacks around the tent. Three more Orcs filed in; but however you might argue, luck was on your side for your brother, Iallion, came charging in with your sister, Eliriel.

"Y/N!"

You caught the sword your brother tossed, slashing the offending Orc's head from his shoulders as your siblings disposed of the other three enemies with ease.

Realizing the Orcs were vanquished (for now), you turned to your brother and raced into his embrace. He grunted and caught you, petting the back of your head before releasing and letting you hug your sister.

"Do you need medial aid?" Eliriel asked in worry, pushing hair from your shoulders to expose flesh - checking for any injury or bloody blemish.

"No - "

"Can you fight?"

"The day I answer no, you've permission to put me in the ground yourself," you scoffed, nodding at your brother. "You came back?"

"Elrond's leading the charge, they're razing the camp," Iallion explained, "otherwise he would've come himself."

"Where is he?"

"Come, we can find him," he insisted, eyes raking over you. "Sure you're all right?"

"Never better," you chuckled without humor, intent on holding the horrors you've experienced at the hands of your captors close to your chest. "Now, we gonna stand here and talk or go hunt some Orc?"

"YES!"

The Incarnated swarmed together in a protection fashion around you; a sibling shield, if you would, due to your lack of armor. Individually, the Incarnated were almost impossible to defeat, but together, they rivaled armies; exactly as the Valar intended. However, while fearsome in battle, you were still but a few and the Orcs were a grand-many; almost easily overwhelming any Elf they encountered.

Exactly why you were separated from them.

You faced against four different foes, turning as if dancing steps to something intimate; blade flashing in the sunlight, ringing as it clanged against blackened blades and rusted armor. It was easy to cut off your retreat or direction back to your siblings, forcing you back several yards as the Orcs swiftly closed in.

"Y/N! DUCK!" You heard from behind you; not thinking, just dropping like a sack of potatoes.

Horse hooves passed you, looking up in time to defend against another blade as Elrond engaged the others. You were both fairing decently until a moment of distraction - where an Orc swung his axe into Elrond's chest and knocked him from his horse - leaving an opportunity for your attacker.

With a scream, the Orc's blade sliced your chest in a deep slashing, managing to cut into your neck; blood starting to stream into your torn and tattered prison clothes. You were blinded by stinging pain, whimpering as your non-dominant arm curled across your chest as if gauze to lay over the injury; dominant hand occupied by your sword, defending yourself with weak whimpers.

One final hack made your sword arm collapse into the ground and for the Orc to stomp on your wrist to hold you there. You were pinned. The Orc laughed and sadistically reached down to swipe a grimy finger into your wound, causing you to hiss through teeth, only to lift his finger to his mouth and taste your life force. The sight alone made your stomach lurch, a panicked cry escaping your lips.

Elrond heard the enemy's laugh and lifted his head in time to see it lick your blood; noting your cry and position beneath the Orc. His face steeled into something beyond infuriation. The three Orcs that filled the space between you and he were quickly dispatched, Elrond engaging your attacker - letting you scramble backwards into a tree trunk for a front row viewing.

With a wild swing, Elrond swiped at the Orc; who reached up to grab hold of his helmet, which was freed when Elrond rolled from under him. The Orc swung, blade whistling; catching Elrond's cheek and sending him to the dirt, much to your worry. He glared at the enemy, wiping at his injury as the Orc growled, "I'm gonna spill her guts at your feet, Elf!"

Elrond's eyes flickered to you, taking the threat as credible; swiping the sword away, using a second blade to inflict injury before driving his longsword into the Orc's belly - driving him backwards into the basket of a trebuchet (or catapult). When pinned, Elrond drove his dagger into the Orc's sternum; leering over him in Sindarin, "Die."

Elrond yanked both weapons free and turned for the machine's mechanisms; yanking a rope and setting the trebuchet into motion. "No, no, no, no," the Orc begged when he realized what was happening; lifted off his feet only to be flung with the basket of rocks through the air, over the width of the Glanduin, and into the walls of Eregion.

Your husband wasted no time to drop the rope and turn for you; rushing forward and sliding to his knees beside your bleeding form. "Elrond, oh, my stars," you rushed with a bloody grin, reaching for him with your dominate hand as the other still tried to staunch your injury.

"I knew you weren't gone, I knew it," he breathed, taking your face in hand, "I'm so sorry, my love, I'm so sorry. I should've come sooner - "

"You got here right when you were supposed to," you assured, sniffling. "Have you - Have you seen Galadriel? I set her free, have you seen her?"

"Why was she not with you?"

"I sent her away, I wasn't sure how long I'd take to escape," you trembled, "then Iallion and Eliriel got me out."

"Why didn't you run?"

"I did..."

"No, away from the battle - "

"I ran to find you," you whispered, offering a sad smile. "Oh," you breathed, fingertip ghosting over his cut cheek, "that'll scar."

"It's nothing," he shook his head, "but yours isn't - I have to get you away from here - "

"There's no time," you rushed, "so, I need you to do something for me."

"Anything."

You swallowed thickly, "Clean your blade, put it in the fire."

Elrond's brows furrowed, glancing over his shoulder to see the trebuchet set ablaze by his men; the Orcs fleeing from the danger, leaving a rare opening. "I don't... Oh," his eyes widened, nodding and rushing to do as you bid. He cleaned his blade on his cloak as he sprinted to the burning machine; sticking his blade in, then returning to your side. "Can you stand?" He asked.

"If you can get me up," you nodded.

"C'mon, love," Elrond whispered, hands under your arms and hoisting you up the bark with a small grunt. "I've got you - "

"Elrond!"

He didn't think, just gripped the blade of his dagger and flung it in a fluid motion over his shoulder where you were staring. The weapon struck an approaching Orc in the throat; gurgling black blood as he went down, but Elrond didn't even bother to watch. He just returned his attention to you, "C'mere, starlight, I've got you."

"Commander!" A different voice shouted, your siblings rushing to the scene. Iallion, as the eldest, gave command to the others, "Circle - circle up! Get around them!" As the Incarnated surrounded you, Elrond was assisting you towards the flames. "Commander, orders, sir?"

"Stand guard," Elrond replied, easing you to your knees. "All right, my love," he paused, checking the blade, "think it's good?"

You nodded, "It's good. Just, uh... Aim, please."

He huffed, "As if I'd miss." He pulled his sword fully from the flames, the thin metal burning bright red; even sizzling subtly. "Ready?"

"Wait, wait," Eliriel bartered, finding a chunk of wood and placing it in your mouth. She lowered to her knees and hooked her arms around yours; restraining them behind your back in a vice. "Okay... Okay, good - do it, do it now, Elrond!" She begged, seeing blood flow a little more freely now that you weren't trying to plug the wound.

When your husband lowered the blade to your injury, you lost consciousness after screaming blood murder until air depleted from your lungs. The flesh was cauterized as cleanly as Elrond could manage, satisfied when he noted no weeping openings.

"Commander! What orders, Commander!?"

Elrond was torn between his wife and his company - but Iallion encouraged, "Go, brother. We'll get her somewhere safe."

With a scoff, Elrond shook his head and carefully pulled the wood from your mouth; gathering you off your sister and into his chest. "Where's safe anymore?" Elrond asked rhetorically in Sindarin, standing with you in his arms.

The camp was in complete disarray, Adar realizing the Elven Calvary had destroyed nearly everything in their path, almost to a barbaric extent. He would've questioned the displayed Elven bravery, but his mind knew better and reminded him he threatened Commander Elrond's wife... No wonder the camp was stamped into the ground.

The sun sank, darkness spread, and Adar listened to report after report, all confirming the Elves were fairing better than expected. Many Uruk lost their lives, more were injured, and the Orcs were encountering outmaneuvers no matter where they attacked.

Adar returned to the tent he left you and Galadriel in... Finding empty irons, no prisoners, and several of his children - dead. There was no confirmation as to who the wounds were from, but considering the swift yet strategically fatal injuries, he assumed the Incarnated had come to your rescue. Death was only graceful when dealt by their hands.

"Perhaps, Lord Father," Glüg reported, "we should sound the retreat. The Commander Elrond is formidable, angry over his wife's injuries..."

"No," Adar refused.

"He slaughtered half the camp to find her!"

"We do not retreat," Adar growled, making his son shy back a step. "Send him in..."

"He will kill our own kind!"

"Send. Him. In. Commander Elrond is on the battlefield, his wife smuggled away - "

"His wife is on the field, Lord Father! Khor saw her," Glüg gestured at his brother, who nodded vigorously at Adar.

"All the more reason... Send him in."

After your wound was cauterized, Elrond managed to find a horse and rush you a safe distance into the woods with Eliriel to guard you. Upon awakening, you were stiff with pain, but infuriated by the obvious delay in consciousness; rolling to your feet and testing the bounds of the near-fatal, scabbing wound.

"You can't go," Eliriel insisted, watching you stretch, "you'll tear open - "

"Adar kept me alive just enough for this moment, I have business to settle with him. I've been on the sidelines too long, sister," you snapped, "and injured or not, I will not leave Eregion to the darkness. There's still a chance - our people still fight. Will you join us? Or shall you turn tail, as our uncle did? Demote yourself?"

Your uncle, another Incarnated, had been a member of the original alliance of Elves against Sauron; one of the first to leave Valinor on a noble quest to Middle-earth. He was one of the reasons your kin had been blessed, but he's also the reason you know what happens if Incarnated refuse their Holy Calling... Facing Morgoth's apprentice was traumatizing beyond belief, your uncle leading alongside Galadriel's brother, Finrod, in many abattle. Yet Sauron's craft was vast, weaseling into your uncle's heart and brain to the point of insanity; so much so, that upon your uncle going AWOL, Finrod was slain in response.

Galadriel never blamed you nor other Incarnated; she blamed only Sauron, rationalizing he was who fucked up your uncle's head so much that the Valar took back their gift. A forfeited Incarnated was gazed upon with utter contempt until driven into exile, and even then, they aren't immediately granted immunity nor entrance into Aman, - or the Undying Lands - but instead, must plead for redemption. Needless to say, your uncle gave your kin quiet a public mess to rectify and it was a grave insult to throw such an accusation at an Incarnated.

"Sister?" You prompted.

From the dirt, Eliriel nodded and reached for your hand; allowing you to heave her onto her feet. "You'll need armor - do not argue!" She snapped with a pointed finger when your mouth opened. "Come."

Eliriel lead you through the woods at a mild pace as to not irritate your injury. Using the darkness to your advantage, you snuck around until happening upon a fallen Elleth who was about your size and body type. Swiftly, you took her armor with a prayer in Sindarin, securing it, then latching on her weapons belt.

"Ready?" You asked, seeing Eliriel nod. "Stay close."

"I'm older than you!"

"Then act like it!" You laughed over your shoulder, sprinting from the treeline and directly towards the fray taking place before Eregion's walls. You snatched a full quiver from a dead Elf, not stopping; plucking up an abandoned bow, still surging; then snatching whatever spent torch-arrows you could, doubly determined.

Blood transformed impacted dirt into a marsh; bodies littering the land, a city on fire, and Death permeating the air. Your sword sang with glee at each blow; injury holding strong, giving you fuller permission to move as you needed. When you raced into battle, you were an entirely different breed; purely animalistic, relying on your senses to cause the most damage. All you could process was you needing to kill.

You happened to be in the right place at the right time because just yards ahead of you, several jagged arrows thumped into your comrade, Rían's, body at varying angles. She swayed and dropped to her knees, revealing ahead of her, a small gaggle of Elves - Elrond included. Rían reached for a torch arrow as you noted the barrel of oil by the Grond and quickly connected the dots.

It was as if the Valar arranged it themself: where one Elf fell, an Incarnated steps up to assume responsibility without hesitation nor prompt. Three additional arrows struck Rían, who fell dead, and there you stood; causing your name to fall from your husband's mouth and for you to spring into action. Without hesitation, you ignite your own arrow, notch it, aim, then release before rushing towards Elrond; seven arrows impalied the place you vacated. "What're you doing here!? It's not safe!" Elrond demanded when you lowered to his level behind a barrier of dirt.

Your arrow found it's mark, catching the entire Grond and surrounding Orcs in a violently gnarly explosion. You smirked at your husband, anchoring him by his neck to place a desperate, messy, slippery kiss to his lips. On retraction, there came a loud, wet smooch sound; you nodding and answering, "Winning a war."

requesting rules and masterlist

TROP masterlist

[waterlooletterwrb]

WRITE WITH ME!

I will start, and you can use the reblog to continue this story however you desire! The idea is that post by post we do a longer story (but if you wanna post your version somewhere else feel free to do so, you just remember to credit me!).

The One rule: You can't gender the Elf!Reader character.

If you need, add more warnings to your post!

OTP: Mairon (Sauron) x Elf!Reader

Universe: Rings of Power / Tolkien

Warnings: main character death, angst, blood, "you can fix him" plot;

Summary: You're the one who stole the Dark Lord's heart, yet you're dying in his arms.

A Forbidden Promise

"Don't go. I — I cannot follow you there. You can't go. You can't go." His voice was frenetic, desperate in a way the dark lord never sounded. How could he not be? You're dying in his arms, the only sweet touch, warmth, love he's ever known. And he will never be able to follow you to Mandos. "Please, I will never be able to go with you there, please."

His plea sounds like he wants to go tho. A begging, maybe the first time in more than two ages that Mairon of the Maiar actually regrets his choices. In you he found his perfection. And now he would lose it. Was that the vengeance of the Valar?

You raise your weak hand, resting it on this face. With your thumb you wipe one of the tears from his cheek. Even now he is as beautiful as the first time you saw each other.

"I — I will come back. For you, I will come back." Your voice is not much more than an whisper. Yet, somehow you make a disbelieving smile appears on his lips.

"Who would give up paradise for me? For Sauron?" The name disgust you as much as it disgust him, and your face probably shows it because he sighs. "If you're leaving me, at least leave saying the truth. It's too... cruel to say it. For I never hoped before."

That makes you give him a pity sad smile. Ignoring the pain, you do everything you can to raise yourself. He holds you tighter, his warmth is what you need to concentrate even when your vision starts to fade.

"Mairon, endanya¹. Hear the last words of the one who stole your heart." This make you see for one last time the sweet smile that he only ever directed to you. "As I promised once, I will never lie to you."

He presses his forehead against yours. For the last time you breathe the same air. "So I dare to command you, Mairon or whatever name you desire to hear now: learn to hope." I little cry escapes your lips, and you feel his hands tremble where he holds you, for a moment you lose your mind and all you can hear is the blood dripping. It's a shame, his always beautiful tunics will forever be stained within your blood now.

Even so, he won't stop holding you. So you do everything you can to reassure him again. He needs to understand, he must believe.

"Learn to hope." You mumble. "For I shall return to you."

You no longer can see or feel, your hand falling from his face is the first sign you went to the undying lands. But you were right. And Mairon, Sauron, does not let you go. He holds you tightly, in a crying so long it's impossible to believe that that destroyed and devastated being was once Morgoth's heir.

The grief is too much and, when he finally let you, there's no one to hear but the wind while he whispers:

"I — I'm yours to command, endanya. I will hear whatever name you call me. I will do whatever you wish. I will hope — I will hope for you."

A promise and a threat. Because in his soul he knows; you were the only one that could stop what's coming for Middle Earth. You were the only one that could stop him.

So now even the wind hopes. You need to return.

••••••••••••••••

Endanya¹ = if i did the word correctly it should be quenya for "my love/my soul", but in a deeper way of calling the one you love "your everything". In my mind, when Sauron says it he is also telling that the reader is his light.

[cherryheairt]

Hi :)

I’ve had this headcanon for a while where thranduil, upon falling in love again, makes it quite obvious he feels strongly about reader but won’t push physical limits of affection quite yet. Due to him having been married before he wants to be sure the Gods approve of him falling in love/marrying again as to not cause ill intend to fall upon reader because of him not being in control of his carnal desires. Reader is oblivious to this and pushes/teases him relentlessly.

Might end in smut upon him knowing reader is safe and he may pursue them fully or just him saying fuck it I see no god but me down here lol

Or just might end in him teasing back big time n leaving reader high and dry (but maybe with an explanation lol we love some open communication ✨)

Thank you! And feel free to mix it up and or change ending I’d just love to see a take on this 🙂‍↕️

hello! I'm so sorry that its been forever since you submitted this. thranduil is a character that we only ever got to see in super serious king mode, and had little screentime at that so I wanted to think through his personality a lot. might be ooc

I personally don't know how to write smut, so I didn't include it. I hope that's okay.

The character will be named Myria (meer-rhea), but have no skin color, body shape, hair color, etc description. She is eleven though, if that matters.

👑

The Gods had long since forsaken Thranduil. After he lost his wife, Legolas' mother, the world seemed to darken along with his own attitude. He changed, and everyone in Middle Earth knew it. Legolas never grew up to know the kind and magnanimous person his father was before his late wife's death.

To him, and the world, Thranduil was a stoic and unforgiving King.

To all, perhaps, except Myria. Myria had been born not too long after Thranduil—in Rivendell. Though the two never met until well into adulthood, Myria liked to say that they hit it off well. Thranduil would never admit the same out loud.

Myria moved from Rivendell to Mirkwood for her studies, thanks to her friend Elrond's advisory, and had since lived there for thousands of years. Youthful as ever, Myria made it her unofficial duty to occupy the King of Murkwood's free time.

She had even befriended his only son, Legolas, despite their age gap. The young elf was approaching 3000 years old soon, and he swore that he was more mature than the she-elf that graced their halls.

Myria didn't mind the head shakes or comments from royal advisors, telling her to mind herself around their King. Thranduil had long grown used to it, anyway.

Myria made her way to his royal chambers, uncaring about her unpropriety with visiting without being called upon. This was their daily routine. Thranduil had his meetings before breakfast, then went back to his chambers to dine alone. Or, he would, if Myria wasn't always waiting right there at his table for him.

"What is for breakfast today, My King?" Myria asked jovially, perched upon one of his carved wooden chairs. Originally, there had only been one for himself, but he ordered a matching one to me made after the woman's incessant visits. Before there was a seat, she simply stood at the table. The thought bothered him, a tinging in the back of his mind telling him that she must be on the same level as him, at all times.

Thranduil's long flowing sleeves and cloaks followed behind him as he entered the room. "You ask this every day, Myr. And what is my answer every day?" He asks, though there is no bite to his words.

"That you 'do not know'. Quite amusing, the all-knowing King not knowing something so simple." She mused, scrunching her nose up at his tall frame.

He fought an amused eye roll, sitting in front of her. He poured himself a chalice of sweet red wine, sipping on it as he replied. "Simple, or trivial? I do not concern myself with such affairs, the food is brought to me and I eat it."

"Careful, Thranduil. That may one day get you poisoned." She mirrored his movements, having waited for him to start drinking.

"By whom? Yourself?" He chuckled darkly, amused at the prospect of such a thing. Mirkwood elves' loyalties ran deep, the chances of him dying suddenly from a cold where higher than dying of poison. "You are the only outsider residing here."

Myria 'hmphed' vehemently, lifting her nose at the accusation. "I hardly can be called an outsider these days. How long have I lived here? Four...five thousand years?"

"Five thousand, two hundred and thirty." He answered for her.

Shocked, she stared at him, mouth agape. "You know the exact year?"

"How could I not? That is the year when my life started to get ten times harder."

She snorted, shaking her head. "I disagree. I think it only got better."

Two servants entered the chambers, one plate in hand each. Platters were lifted to reveal the neatly presented food, a light breakfast of fruit and toasted bread.

Myria and Thranduil dug into it, a pleasent chatter filling the room. "What are your plans for today?" She asked him.

"Same as usual, final preparations for the Feast of Starlight. Though, there is a task I wanted to assign you–" Thranduil was interrupted by a guard rushing into the room. He lifted an unimpressed brow, staring the guard down for his brash action.

"Your majesty, a party of rogue Dwarves have been apprehended in the Mirkwood forest!" To this, Thranduil immediately stood and strided past the guard out of the chambers. Myria, struck by the news, eagerly followed in suite.

"You are not supposed to sit in on prisoners being interrogated, Myria." Thranduil told her sternly, knowing the sound of her light steps trailed behind his own heavy ones.

"When has that stopped me before?" She laughed. It had been a nearly a hundred years since she'd seen a dwarf, and much longer than that since one had been in the depths of the Elvenking's Halls. She was excited to see what brave adventurers had come, and survived the dark forest's curse.

Thranduil seated himself at the head of his lifted throne, elegant giant antlers rooting themselves out from behind the throne like a crown. The one perched on his head mirrored that, thick branches striking in contrast to his pure white hair. Myria took a moment to admire him from her spot at the base of the stairs. The guard next to her didn't even blink at her intrusion, knowing the relationship between the ward and the King was a complex one that even the elders didn't bother to deduce.

Myria stayed silent during the precedings, not moving an inch except to lean her head forward and inspect the Dwarves. The party was quite large, a whole gaggle of Dwarves were bravely setting off to reclaim Erebor's keep and defeat the dragon nested under it. The leader, Thorin, was quite handsome for a Dwarf, not that Myria would say so aloud. For all her teasings, that would surely be the tip of the iceburg for Thranduil's patience.

As the majority of the Dwarves were escorted to the dungeons, only Thorin was left in Thranduil's audience. She listened as Thranduil made his offer, then got rejected harshly by the Dwarven King. Screamed at, being told off by a life form deemed lesser than an Elf, Thranduil had enough. He sent the man away with a flick of his wrist.

As he slowly desended the steps after the dwarf 'king' was escorted away, Thranduil placed a hand on Myrias shoulder.

The cold rings on his hand raised goosebumps on the back of her neck and arms, shivering at the feeling. She cursed herself for wearing an off-shoulder dress, dressing herself for the nice weather that morning. If he noticed, Thranduil didn't say anything. But the tiny lift to the corners of his mouth said plenty. "Do not fraternize with the filth that dirties our halls."

Our halls. The brief words pleasently rung in the back of Myria's mind. She nodded. He knew her well, guessing that she would try to sneak into the dungeons during the feast to try to speak with the curious Dwarves.

He moved his hand down, resting it gently on the small of her back. "Let us go, the feast will not oversee itself."

👑

Myria and Thranduil lounged in his chambers, simply biding time until the Feast of Starlight had begun. Admist muted chuckles and jests, mostly from Myria, Tauriel entered the room. "You called for me, My King?" She bowed shortly. "I have come to report to you." Tauriel glanced briefly towards Myria, nodding when she lifted a goblet towards her silvan friend.

"I thought I ordered that nest to be destroyed." Thranduil said, voice taut with frustration. The spiders had been plaguing their forest for years now, unrelenting.

"We cleared the forest as ordered, my Lord." The woman insisted. "But more spiders keep coming from nests in the South. If we could kill them at their source–"

"That fortress lies beyond our borders. Your orders are to keep our lands clear of those foul creatures. That is your task."

"And when we drive them off, what then? Will they not spread to other lands?" Ever the bleeding heart, Tauriel worried for other people.

"Other lands are not my concern." Thranduil said coldly. "The fortunes of this land will rise and fall. But here in this kingdom, we will endure." As had been the way for thousands of years. Thranduil insisted that Mirkwood keep to themselves, not needing or offering help from any others.

Tauriel nodded stiffly, excusing herself from the King's presence. Before she left, however, he spoke again. "Legolas said you fought well today. He has grown...fond of you."

She paused, thinking his words over carefully. "I assure you my Lord, Legolas thinks of me as no more than captain of the guard.

"Perhaps he did once. Now, I'm not so sure." Thranduil pushed.

"I did not think that you would allow your son to pledge himself toward a lowly silvan elf." She responded, voice slightly hopeful.

Myria leaned forward, too, curious of his answer. Would he allow his heir to love an elf with no royale blood?

"You are right, I would not." Thranduil chuckled humorlessly at the thought of it. Myria bit her tongue, hurt by the comment indirectly. She was no common-born Elf, sure, but had no royal blood to speak of either. She deflated in her seat, drinking down the rest of her wine. "Do not give him hope where there is none."

Is that what Thranduil had been doing for Myria, merely giving her hope? Slivers of special attention, with no intentions of truly loving her. She stood from her seat, leaving the chambers without a word.

Tauriel, too, left quickly after that.

Thranduil stood alone in his chambers, looking at the spot where Myria had once been.

👑

The feast came and passed quickly, Myria in no mood to sing or dance like she usual did at such events. She attended for the sake of politeness, leaving when she had greeted enough people for the night.

She spend the rest of it wallowing in her chambers.

Word got out that the entire party of Dwarves escaped, and Myria silently applauded them for their boldness. She hoped, for their sake, that they were successful in freeing their home.

Days passed, and news of Smaug's death had spread to every corner of Middle Earth. Thranduil was quick to organize his army to march toward Erebor, wasting no time to retrieve his precious gems. Myria had come along on her own white elk mount, following behind Thranduil silently, if only to satiate her curiosity. Last time they had come, Thranduil had rejected the Dwarves' desperate plea for help. This time, he came to declare war if they refused to return his gems.

The damned gems. Always on his mind. True, they were a physical reminder of his late wife and Queen. But it seemed as though he dwelled on them more than he cherished her memory. He did not speak of her, ever. Even to his own son, his wife was but a ghost haunting the halls.

Myria couldn't begin to understand the loss of a spouse, but she did understand that he was too caught up in himself.

Even though she had little intention of fighting the Dwarves, Myria still brought a dagger and bow on the march. Could never be too careful, Thranduil always reminded her. She guided her elk to stand behind his, watching him greet the human leader stiffly. It was almost laughable how mad his manners were, his kingly presence deemed to good for polite small talk.

Myria had been given a temporary quarter near Thranduil's, their tents close as they usually were. He had been too busy to notice her absence lately, both to her joy and displeasure. She missed his daily warmth around her, but knew it was best to distance himself from him. Just this last journey, then she sould go back to Rivendell to live out the rest of her long and lonesome life.

Thranduil plotted with the human leader, Bard, and a wizard by the name of Gandalf. Myria wandered the decrepit town while they did, having no place in war council, nor did she wish to.

By the time she had returned, night had fallen and all the humans of the town were asleep. Myria ducked into her tent, desperate for some solid rest before a potential battle on the morrow. She was surprised to see Thranduil sitting awkwardyl on her cot.

"Thranduil? What are you doing here, you should be resting." Myria insisted, brow furrowed.He stood at her entrance, possibly being left waiting for quite a while.

"I wished to see you before we go to Erebor's gates in the morning. I suspect that the Dwarf will have something up his tiny sleeve. I know you are a capable fighter, but I want you to stay in town tomorrow just in case."

She protested sharply, "I am just as much a fighter as any elf in your army. I will not sit around and wait for you to return–"

"Please, Myria." He rested both of his hands on her shoulders, looking down at her with his deep blue eyes "I could not focus if I knew you were behind me somewhere. If I know you are safe, I can retrieve the jewels easier." Always about the jewels. He should have married them, she thought bitterly.

"Is that an order?"

"It is a request. From a friend." Thranduil said softly.

Myria bit her cheek, crossing her arms. "Fine. I will stay here on the morrow. But, if any fighting breaks out, I will join."

He seemed content with her answer, knowing its as far as he'll get with her stubbornness. "Very well, I'll see you when this is over." He planted a tender kiss to the top of her head before he left to his own tent.

👑

Myria could only watch from afar as negotiations with the Dwarves had clearly gone to shit. More dwarves had shown up, an entire army to match the Elves' golden one. Myria rushed back to grab her bow, bursting out of her tent to the sound of screams in the town. Surely the Dwarves wouldn't target the women and children who had stayed behind?

She was right. It was orcs who had invaded the town, cutting off exits as they slashed through defenseless crowds of people. Myria rushed to help whoever she could, shooting down orcs' fat heads whenever they got too close to a fleeing human. With her dagger, she slashed through whoever she could reach to retrieve each of her arrows.

This arduous process repeated for some time, Myria panting with effort as she continued. The sounds of screams toned done as golden-armored soldiers flooded into the cobble streets and started to push back at the beastly creatins. Myria breathed a sigh of relief, engaging another orc. It was larger than most, with armor protecting its head and chest. She slashed at his with a sword she had taken from dead enemy, yelping when he stabbed into her abdomen with his own weapon. She gasped, trying to keep her composure as he approached above her menacingly. As he lifted his sword above his head again, ready to strike down the Elf, his head was detached from his body in a spray of hot blood.

Myria flinched at the feeling on her skin, feeling disgusted more than she already was with the sweat and dirt covering her. Thranduil came from behind the orc, who was now dead on the floor. He crouched down in front of her, a frantic look in his eye that betrayed his regal appearance. "Myria, look at me!" He shouted, her blurry vision shakily focusing on him. He held her face in his hands, watching her try to keep them open. "It's okay, I'll get you help." Thranduil promised her, gingerly lifting her up princess style. He flinched when she protested in pain, clutching at her stomach to stop the blood from gushing out.

"It's okay, you'll be alright, sweet." He told her, repeating himself multiple times as if to convince himself, too.

He brought her outside of the town, where Elven medics had set up a discreet few tents disguised to the orc's vision by Elven magic. The King layed her gently on a stiff cot, petting her hair comfortingly as she screamed in pain at the medic disinfecting and stitching her wound up. He glared at the Elf assigned to help her, making the poor young fellow sweat in fear of messing uo in front of his King.

Eventually, the sounds outside died out. Thranduil regretted taking his forces to this pit of death. He had lost more Elves today than had ever been lost at one time since the Great War. Elves did not die easily. This was a massacre of great damage to their ranks, to their people. Thranduil mourned the deaths of his kin dearly.

Myria had calmed, pain dulling when given some numbing herbs. She focused her attention on Thranduil, "you came for me." She said, voice barely a whisper.

"Of course, I did. Why wouldn't I?" He asked, rubbing his thumb over her knuckles.

"Your gems...they're still locked away in the keep, aren't they?" She asked.

"The gems are not my priority. They are merely objects, remembrances. You are alive, I need you."

Myria felt tears blurr her vision, clamping her throat shut. "But–I am not from any important bloodline. I am not a Princess, nor—"

"I do not care. You are Myria. The woman who has been by my side for five thousand years. The only lady worthy of being Queen by my side is you."

Thranduil took her into his arms as she cried. He shushed her gently, hands locked into her hair as she clung to him.

"I love you, Thranduil. I have for a long, long time."

"And I, you, my dearest Myr."

[liveinfarbe]

Adar and Galadriel reminiscing about their Beleriand days…

These are clips from episode 4 and 7 of season 1. Notice the knife/dagger-parallel.

I've been researching the Silmarillion a little bit, because I think it gives hints about time and place in Adar's flashback account. This got lengthy. I write about the questionable Moriondor assumption by Galadriel and the esteem for flowers, blossoms, willows, glades in the lives of Galadriel and Celeborn, in Beleriand and beyond, and a possible path for hope, forgiveness and growth after trauma, that would lie in a dark Celeborn meets dark Galadriel story: Adar informs Arondir that he's been young in Beleriand once and used to walk down the banks of the Sirion river for miles and miles. He noticed sage blossoms, apparently liked the view, because it left a lasting impression. What I get from this (given the cosmology of that world is actual history and not just mythical) is that it must've happened after the sun and the moon appeared and pulled Middle-Earth out of its darkness, or else there wouldn’t be miles of sage blossoming. It thrives in full sunlight. This puts the account at the end of the First Age, after the Years of the Trees. Interestingly, this is after the "creation" of the Orcs by Morgoth.

Whatever bond and similarity Adar has with the Uruks, he’s apparently not one of those Moriondor that Galadriel talked about to him. I assume the Moriondor concept reflects Tolkien’s idea (he had several) that elves were captured by Morgoth after their awakening in Cuiviénen under the starlight and before Oromë found them and then got corrupted and twisted and thus became the first Uruks. While Adar shares certain physical traits with them, he can’t be one of those first Uruks, because 1.) he lived far in the West, in Beleriand, 2.) the sun had risen, 3.) he’s lived among elves that spoke Sindarin and Quenya, since he speaks it too and not some Avari language, though he could've learned all that in Angband during idle hours, I don't know, he learned black speech too. Anyway, the first mentions of Orcs roaming Beleriand is in Y.T. (Years of the Trees) 1330, but Melkor (at this point in time he's not yet given the name Morgoth by Fëanor) is incarcerated in Valinor. Sauron is in Beleriand though, hiding out in Angband, waiting for Melkor's return, "breeding" Orcs apparently, because their numbers grow and they "roam" Beleriand. This is 200 Valian years before the sun. I'm no loremaster, but I know this is a long time. At this point and later, Adar is still, as he describes himself, young. So Orcs were breathing living creatures before that elf-man became Adar. "Young" I see as meaning before he got captured and tortured and then brainwashed by Sauron as part of the “13 of us” (ep. 2x2).

So something doesn't add up, and Adar implies that in his interaction with Arondir in ep. 1x4. Are the tales of Moriondor a widely spread myth created by Elves, since all accounts about Orcs mostly stem from Elvish chroniclers? Maybe this is what Adar hints at. He says to Arondir

“You have been told many lies. Some run so deep even the rocks and roots believe them. To untangle it all would all but require the creation of a new world.”

He thinks only gods can do that, and he ain’t one…yet. Unlike Morgoth who raised mountains, or other Valar whose wrath sank a whole landmass like Beleriand, and later Númenor. He's just doing what he must, realizing Morgoth's terraforming plan and resettling the Uruks so they can live freely.

The "many lies" that he mentions are reflected in the things that Galadriel - who’s famous as "the scourge of the Orcs", even in Númenor - says to him when she interrogates him in episode 1x6. She’s full of hate and delivers a truly genocidal speech to him that shocks herself in the aftermath. (She acknowledges that somewhat self-critically to Theo in ep. 1x7, and it might be one of the reasons she rejects Sauron's offer later)

The truth about Adar's origin story isn't yet revealed. I think it will be, because the writers put some effort in it, dropped cues and hints in excellent dialogue and made him a multilayered character. Finally, let’s come back to the flowers and blossom mentions in the clips above because they could very nicely tie back to Galadriel and Celeborn in Beleriand and beyond. Adar says he “went down that river once”. Let’s see, if he, for example, came from Doriath and went down the Sirion towards its mouth and saw a lush amount of flowers blossom, he could have come through a region called Nan-Tathren or Tarsarinan that is literally called Valley of the willows. Possibly the home to Galadriel’s “glades of flowers” she danced in.

Why would she dance there and not in Doriath? I don't know, but there's a clear hint that she was in that region and even made meaningful personal connections there. With Ents. And Celeborn, too. Tarsarinan, Valley of the willows, means something to the couple and Treebard, as mentioned in a passage in The Lord of the Rings. The memories of Celeborn, Galadriel and Treebard of that place are intimately entangled.

Then Treebeard said farewell to each of them in turn, and he bowed three times slowly and with great reverence to Celeborn and Galadriel. ‘It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone, A vanimar, vanimálion nostari!’ he said. 'It is sad that we should meet only thus at the ending. For the world is changing: I feel it in the water, I feel it in the earth, and I smell it in the air. I do not think we shall meet again.' And Celeborn said: 'I do not know, Eldest.' But Galadriel said: 'Not in Middle-earth, nor until the lands that lie under the wave are lifted up again. Then in the willow-meads of Tasarinan we may meet in the Spring. Farewell!

“Many Partings” - The Return Of The King - LOTR - J.R.R. Tolkien

Okay… 1.) Treebard's “It is long, long since we met by stock or by stone” sounds a lot like Adar’s words to Arondir "even the rocks and the roots believe them", 2.) A vanimar, vanimálion nostari! is translated as "Oh, beautiful ones, parents of beautiful children"

That last point reminds of Adar's relationship to the Uruks and the rhetoric surrounding it: Adar whose name translates as "father" calls the Uruks "my children", "my sons and daughters", main difference is that they’re not that beautiful, neither is he — but that lies in the eye of the beholder. Does Adar imply the propaganda about Uruks is so pervading that even the eldest Ents believe them? Possibly his old friend Treebard… ?

I mean he's certainly wreaked havoc in the woods, forced the felling of trees, displaying not much respect for the Ents. On the other hand, Adar is shown planting Alfirin seeds, that grow into flowers. He's still very Elvish, full of respect and longing for "new life, in defiance of death".

Finally… Lothlórien, Galadriel and Celeborn's later safe space, is literally meaning "Lórien of the Blossom". Treebard calls it "Dreamflower".

With all that cherishing of flowers - I think even his chain mail shirt displays flowery ornaments - could Adar be Celeborn in a rather depressing and long-lasting dark phase of his life in ROP? Explaining where he’s been all that time since she last mocked him as a “silver clam”? And if he is not, wouldn’t that be a really good story if he was? Adar doing the work could be an arc about hope and the possibility of healing and changing — it’s what Galadriel needs, too, in the long run.

At this point she’s confused and hurting after the betrayal by Sauron, because she liked him more than anyone in ages, but also because she had to witness herself being unreliable and, frankly, unwise. Yes, she’s vindicated for having always been right about Sauron, but the way she went about it fills her with shame, it’s gnawing at her, not primarily because of wounded pride, I believe, but out of compassion for the victims of her actions. Not unlike Míriel after her return to Númenor. It begs the question to them both if it was all needless, if there really is a greater good in what's unfolding now? At this point in the narrative, the Númenorian intervention that Galadriel pressed for must feel like a Pyrrhic victory with grave consequences and implications for the future of Middle-Earth as well as Númenor. It has caused immense trouble and pain already to many other people that Galadriel gave Sauron a clap on the back and an army. She still has to fully confront herself about that, she's still vulnerable to the darkness inside her, because she's hurting. She has Elrond to help and guard her, but other than that, who's there for her? I mean, in the end she has to accept that it's not her who can slay Sauron, she needs to come to that understanding. It's a battle within herself she hasn't yet had the courage to take up because she still can't face her lingering grief at this point in any other way than turning it into anger.

[valgeristik]

'Tis the dragon age season, and i am here with a DA Oc Lore Post.

Not about every single one of them (yet? question mark?) but a general...timeline. Mostly about Zea and Lora. An explanation of why i keep saying 'its honestly a wonder Zea turned out as well adjusted as they did'

putting it under the cut 👍 it got LONG (also, Veilguard Spoilers Tm closer to the end of the text, so uve been warned)

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So basically, in my heart in my mind all three of my DAO wardens exist at the same time:

Lora (elf mage), Nikolai (dwarf commoner) and Noel (human noble)

(for those unfamiliar with DAO, each of those have their own origin story. i linked the wiki but tbh tbh tbh i highly recommend playing DAO for urself instead. is it old with old graphics? yes. is it an absolute banger regardless? YES.

I tweaked a few things here n there for each of the backstories, but maybe i'll elaborate on that in a separate post. who knows!)

Anyway. Somewhere along the way the team would come across a village in the middle of a darkspawn attack. They get there early enough to save some people, but too late to save the village itself. You know, Blight things.

This is where they'd find Zea, who survived only because, well, turns out they're a mage! and the magic got triggered by the fact that they were sosososo scared. They are also 5 years old at that point in time.

Lora is the one who finds them, which is fortunate, because they DO try to hit her with some lightning. Which she's well-practiced with redirecting. (u know those big AOE elemental spells you can get in DAO? my main tactic while playing as Lora was to just stack those three on top of each other. So.)

Anyway, she calms them down n gets them out of the building that used to be their home. Whatever family they had is dead, and Lora does realize that

1. Zea is a mage

2. and also an elf

So the chances of them being raised in a nice loving environment are pretty low. And let's be honest, Lora would feel incredibly opposed to the idea of this little kid suffering any more than they already did (<- already getting attached)

It's like finding a blind baby bird on the ground and not being able to put it back in the nest.

Zea would also immediately latch onto Lora as the first like. Adult that they can rely on now that their own mother is gone. (i have not thought about their family too much, but leaning towards the idea that they were being raised by a single mother. )

Lora would make them feel safe, even if she isn't the best parental figure, being 19 (JUST had her Harrowing) and this being her first time in her memory that she gets to leave the mage tower and travel the world. And, you know, having to help stop the Blight. She's got a lot going on.

The initial plan is to either find someone in some town who could help, or give Zea to the dalish, possibly. Wynne suggests the mage circle, but Lora is very much against it, for reasons mentioned above. (and some others. like the fact that the Fereldan mage circle was just completely fucking wrecked.)

But they don't find anyone in town, and by the time they get to the dalish everyone kind of decides that it's not been too bad, actually, and maybe the kid should stay with them. Especially because Zea would probably (definitely) cry a lot if they were to be left somewhere with yet another bunch of unfamiliar people.

Zea is pretty much being raised communally. Nikolai is actually the one who's the best at being a parental figure, as Lora...again, does not think of herself as a parent for the longest time. (Which, who can blame her, really)

And Noel is. Well. Noel.

A brief aside.

Zea, being 5, is old enough to remember things from before the darkspawn attack. They would know

their name and surname

exactly two lines from a song their mother used to sing to them when they were scared or upset

enough of their childhood for the memories of it to haunt them on n off forever ✌️

along with other things that will fade away with time, like their mother's face and what her voice sounded like. etc.

Anyway, that is to say, they will develop a habit of singing those two lines from the song to themself when they need to calm down or distract themself or the like. A self-soothing method, if u will. (<- link to a thing i drew about it)

I have this image in my head of this toddler noticing that Lora is having a rough time at some point (maybe just got woken up by one of those archdemon nightmares) and coming over to sing it to her....because even at that young age, they want to help (foreshadowing)

(the song is actually this one bcs those two lines got stuck in my head while i was playing DATV for the first time n then i was like hey. i could use that....... the specific lines are from 0:37 - 0:49, if u care)

Anyway.

The wardens do what wardens do and end the 5th Blight. Yuppie!

The group splits, with some going their own ways, and some sticking together.

Nikolai and Alistair become like the Normal Uncles to Zea, who occasionally babysit them when Lora is off in the deep roads or whatever.

As for their primary caretakers. well.

My opinions have changed many times over the years regarding the question of Who Would Lora Romance.

At first the answer was. No one.

And then i thought it would be really funny if it was Zevran.

And THEN i thought that it would be even funnier if Noel was their occasional third.

She is the cool aunt who comes over a few times a year to give Zea the most expensive ass gift and to flirt with their parents and then fuck off again.

So Zea is essentially being raised by Thedas' weirdest polycule.

No wonder they can't help but disrespect authority. And. Well. [gestures vaguely in their direction] Other Things.

Now, you can sigh with relief, i'm not going to describe every year that follows.

But there are a few Key Events.

1: The Accident

As mentioned before, Lora did not really consider herself a parent. She wasn't cold to Zea or anything, but she did not take a lot of responsibility, and also did not consider how much her actions and demeanor might influence Zea. Who, let's be honest, would kind of end up idolizing the lot of them, but Lora especially.

So, a couple of years after DAO ends (or maybe During? I haven't quite decided yet, but it's before they turn 8), Zea gets it into their head to try and imitate not-mama.

They've seen her stand in the middle of a lightning storm she summoned on the battlefield, and they were like. Well, lightning kinda comes easier than other things, so let me try that too!

And it goes terribly wrong.

They end up almost dying, but Lora is quick enough to react and get them help. (Which, it had to have been someone else. Maybe Wynne. Because I don't think Lora would know or be any good at healing magic, and I'm SURE she felt so normal about that fact in that moment.)

And this is the event that really hits her over the head with the realization of just how much influence she has on the kid.

So, when Zea recovers, Lora takes it upon herself to teach them how to use magic Properly. Which, hey, ends up working out great.

This is kind of a pivotal moment for her, because she realized just how attached she's gotten, and how easy it would be to lose them. And if she becomes a bit over-protective for the next few years...well. Who Can Blame Her.

This is the moment when she starts thinking of herself as a parent.

2: The Talk (the birds and the. archdemon blood)

As mentioned previously, and even several times, I believe, Zea would idolize Lora and the others, and by extension, would think that grey wardens are the coolest people in Thedas.

Zea is also what I would describe as a bright-eyed idealist. They want to leave the world a better place. They want to help people. And most of all, they want to prevent what happened in their home village from happening again, wherever they can.

They also think their mama is Stronger That God And Will Never Die, and they want to be just like her! 🤗

So they voice as much, when they are about 11-12. They tell Lora that they want to become a grey warden when they grow up.

Now, her plan for them was simple: she wants them to live a long and happy life. Which does not go hand-in-hand with being a warden. She also knows she won't be around forever, even if she's actively searching for a way to prevent the Calling. And also also, she couldn't give less of a shit about the secrecy of the order when it comes to her kid's safety.

So she tells them everything. From the Joining to the Calling, every little detail of being a warden, every drawback. She makes it sound as unappealing as possible, trying her best to discourage this dream of Zea's.

What she doesn't consider is the fact that...Well.

Even if they know they will suffer, they will do it anyway.

Zea has an uncommon relationship with death, lets say. They know that it will happen. To them, and to others. It's not something to be afraid of, necessarily, on the grand scale of things. Suffering must be prevented as much as possible, of course, but death itself does not bring suffering with it on it's own. And so, if they're going to die anyway, what's 30 years or so if they can help save so many more lives? To them, it sounds like a sweet deal.

Sure, they could dedicate their life to saving people in some other ways. But the topic of the blight and darkspawn is particularly personal.

And, knowing about the Calling now, they know that Lora will not be around by the time it's their turn, and so will not be hurt by it.

If they survive the Joining, that is, but eh. Details.

(Although they were fully aware they might die. And they prepared accordingly. With a letter to their family and all, in case things went bad.)

They join the wardens when they turn 20, without telling anyone.

Lora only finds out afterwards.

Obviously, she's not happy about it, but it's not like she can reverse it (yet?..).

So, they talk, they argue, they make peace, and she supports them as best she can, while also redoubling her efforts to find a way to prevent the Calling.

The events of Veilguard happen when Zea is 27.

(spoilers start here)

Lora and co. are in the south of Thedas, helping fight the blight there, and so they cannot come and help out.

And Zea doesn't want them to. They want to prove that they can handle it all on their own. They don't even tell their family that they're involved with All That until shit really hits the fan.

Even after Weisshaupt.

(They try writing a letter to Lora to tell her that they're alive, after. They can't finish it, because they hate how it keeps spiraling. They don't need her to come over and fix everything, they can stand on their own two feet, they have a Team, they WILL handle it.

But, damn, they do want that Mom Hug.)

Before all that, they never really encountered a situation in which they thought they will die. Not since they were 5.

It tests them, their bright-eyed idealism, their inherent urge towards kindness above all.

(Yes, they did punch the First Warden. And yes, they did feel incredibly bad for him once they found him in the underground Weisshaupt replica later. And yes, the memory of his death does haunt them sometimes, even if killing him was an act of kindness.)

But in the end, no matter how angry they were at Solas, or how much they wanted to punch him, too, they chose to talk him down instead.

Because, despite it all, they still want to leave the world better than they found it.

Thats it, thank you so much for attending this lecture 🫡

(and also, yes, Noel DOES teach Zea how to stab people so so so well. It's her own way of caring)

[elswing]

i'm super glad that they're finally establishing the king's men lusting for immortality as one of their main political principles. we got a little 🤏 hint of it last season even though the main civil strife seemed to be rooted in the mass "THE ELVES ARE TAKING OUR JOBS" hysteria, which was definitely questionable at the time, but in hindsight i think it was a reasonable place for the writers to start.

we were introduced to a lot of númenorians last season who will end up on different sides of the eventual civil war. i think it does make the most sense to let all these individual characters HAVE their individual motivations while the story is still developing, because while we know that eventually the conflict will bleed and blend into *two* distinct sides, that line hasn't been drawn yet. there needs to be more nuance before we reach that point of ultimate divide

and we can see that beginning to happen!

a lot of people are unhappy with míriel for "taking orders from an elf" which obviously comes from their dislike of galadriel, and then pharazôn nurturing those seeds into outright malice. that can very easily begin to weave into different reasons for them to resent the elves (jealousy over their immortality, then greed, then the eventual desire to take it for themselves).

that doesn't mean they can't also settle into that allegiance from a completely different angle. eärien, for example, hasn't yet shown any interest in the concept of immortality aside from a throwaway quip in S1E4 that could simply be read as narrative foreshadowing rather than a symptom of some current hidden obsession. she was introduced to it BY pharazôn when he was giving his little "we are only immortal in the statues carved for our tombs" speech over the dying king's body.

the only reason (confirmed this episode) that she's sided with the king's men is because of her grief for isildur's presumed death and her want for justice. in her eyes, pharazôn is the only person willing and capable of giving her that, which is why she was so easily susceptible to his manipulations. i don't think her throwing the palantir in míriel's face in the name of Elf Racism™ and causing the riot is a sign of inconsistent character motivations, but a way to really drive home just how skilled pharazôn is at preying on people's needs and steering them down *his* desired paths under the guise of achieving *their* goals.

it's actually not dissimilar to sauron's tactics. "find out what your opponent fears, and find a way of mastering it, so you can master them", so i'm VERY excited to see his next tar-mairon disguise. it's like dropping a barrel of gasoline smack in the middle of an active gunfight lol

[songsandsagas]

Midnight Campaign - Session 0

System: Loner: Another Solo RPG, 2nd Ed., by Roberto Bisceglie

Today, I did the thing I usually do when I can't think of how to proceed with one of my solo games: I started a brand new solo game.

I wanted to use a super simple system, and it doesn't get much simpler than Loner: Another Solo RPG, 2nd Ed., by Roberto Bisceglie. Character creation is as easy as choosing a character concept, two major character skills, a character frailty or drawback, and two major pieces of gear. That's it. Boom! A character is born.

I wanted to explore the campaign world of Midnight: Legacy of Darkness, by Greg Benage and Robert Vaughn. Think of a high fantasy setting like Middle Earth, only in this world, the Big Bad Evil Guy won and became the world's only living god, forever closing off the world from the influence of other divine beings. While I won't be using the Ampersand Game, 5th Ed., rules for which the campaign world was designed, I will use the book as a setting and flavor guide for my adventures.

The Mythic Game Master Emulator, 2nd Ed., has become an indispensable tool for my solo games. I'm going to leave out Mythic's Chaos mechanic in favor of Loner's Twist mechanic, but I will use the Mythic d100 tables extensively to generate new situations and encounters.

After looking through the campaign source book, I decided to make an Erunsil (snow elf) character. The Erunsil elves fight with special serrated knives and icewood bows. I don't know what icewood is yet, but it sounds cool.

I named my Erunsil elf Eredath. Eredath's skills are combat and survival. Whenever he performs a combat or survival related task, he rolls an additional Chance die. Eredath's frailty is his gruff and unfriendly nature. Whenever he attempts to charm or compel someone, he rolls an additional Risk die. His two major pieces of gear are a set of Erunsil knives (Erunsil elves favor fighting with a knife in each hand) and his icewood bow. Eredath also wears fur armor and carries a leather backpack with some basic pieces of adventuring gear. I usually don't bother with writing out a full inventory when I create a character for my solo games. I just assume the character has most of the gear he would need to survive in the wilderness for about a week or so.

Despite the name of the system being called Loner, and despite the idea of having a solo survivalist hero braving the dangers of a fantasy world, the only way I know how to make a character like Eredath work is to give him a companion. Eredath needs to converse with someone who balances out his cold exterior and grim determination.

He needs a faerie.

I created Arella, his faerie companion. I immediately thought of Link being healed by faeries in The Legend of Zelda, so I decided Arella will have access to healing magic. I want Eredath to handle most of the heroic action, so Arella will assist Eredath with a little bit of magic and historical knowledge, though she isn't much of a combatant.

I decided on the nature of Eredath and Arella's relationship. I'm not sure yet how they initially met, but I like the idea of them having traveled together for some time. In their travels, their bond has taken a para-romantic turn. Arella has occasionally used potions to assume a "giant" form on nights when the pair are caught up in an amorous mood. There ya go. A sprinkling of sexual tension to keep things interesting.

Of course, Eredath and Arella must have a quest. Looking through the Midnight campaign source book, I found a passage about the Foul Bog of Eris Aman, located in the Veradeen, the lands of the Erunsil elves: "The Foul Bog is a dangerous place, and there is never good enough reason to venture into its terrible wilds."

A dangerous, foul swamp that promises certain death. Perfect. Except for the fact that "never" is a long time, and the only reason someone would have for venturing into a dangerous place must be a good reason, indeed.

I decided that a medicinal herb named gossamer, also known as ghost petal, grows in the swamp. More importantly, gossamer is the main ingredient of potions of healing, a necessary item in the war against Izrador, the aforementioned Big Bad Evil Guy of the setting.

And there I have it, the start of a new adventure.

[davenswitcher]

NSFW Alphabet: Astarion x Estellé

Astarion and Estellé from "The Rockstar And The Groupie"

Saw the post from @bardic-inspo and decided to do this for my pookies too.

A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

They cuddle for a bit longer. Most often than not, he stays inside her until he's soft again. Afterwards, they take a shower together <3

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Estellé l o v e s his thighs and eyes. For Astarion, he loves her eyes. He fell in love with her heterochromia, sometimes gazing into her eyes a bit too long, and he looks away shyly. He also can't get enough of her ass.

C = Cum (Where does your muse prefer to cum/have someone cum?)

Inside for both.

D = Dirty secret (Pretty self explanatory: a dirty secret of theirs)

Neither have confessed yet that they masturbated thinking about the other before they got together.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

As a rockstar he had his fair share of debauched nights. He also was in a relationship with Shadowheart for a few years.

Estelle was only in a relationship once, and kissed a girl in a truth or dare in college.

F = Favorite position (This goes without saying)

Estellé loves prone bone and how deep he can thrust into her, hitting her spot perfectly. She also loves missionary and cowgirl, but mostly missionary, so she can kiss him and hold him.

Astarion loves missionary for the same reason. He's a sap deep down and gets off on kissing her and thrusting into her at the same time. Another favourite of his is fucking into her deep with her legs on his shoulders.

Both also like it slow when the mood strikes.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

It depends on the mood. They can be goofy and tease each other mad, but also be serious and worship each other.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Astarion's hair is very well taken care off. He hoards shampoos and conditioners. As an elf, he doesn't need to shave his body hair and has therefore soft af skin.

Estellé isn't as fanatical with her hair but likes to take care of it as much as she can. She's also an elf, so no body hair (I'm so jealous).

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

Passionate, sappy, you name it.

J = Jack off (Masturbation headcanon)

Astarion is a serial masturbator lol (in the rockstar universe). Either with his hands or letting the shower head massage his cock.

Estellé doesn't masturbate as often as him. But can't help herself when he comes home after a dance session or leaving the in-house gym all sweaty.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Both have an oral fixation. Astarion also likes to nibble her soft flesh, especially thighs (in every universe am I right)

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

At home. Sometimes also in his backstage room.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going?)

They're insatiable. Half lidded looks and tight clothing and you'll not see them for the rest of the evening.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Both don't do degradation, anal and hair pulling.

Astarion has claustrophobia and doesn't do well with being tied up. A hot date ended pretty fast once when he had a panic attack.

Estellé doesn't like pain and doesn't want to be spanked or have her thighs and boobs gripped too tightly. She only let Astarion pat her booty once when they were backstage. That's the maximum "spanking" she tolerates.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Estellé is his oral queen and never had someone this good. Both like giving and receiving equally, though, Estellé really loves tasting him.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Somewhere in the middle tbh. They love it slow and tender but also love rutting each other senseless.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Not really into quickes, both of them. They love to take their time.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

They like roleplaying from time to time. But not many risks. Astarion is happy he has someone who matches his freak, and it's enough.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

They are insatiable. They like to tire each other out. But it's always three rounds max, sometimes four.

T = Toys (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Estellé has a tiny collection of vibrators and dildos she likes to use on herself.

Astarion likes to use the vibration spell on himself or Estellé sometimes, but not often. He also had fleshlights when he was younger. Some vibrated, some had a suction function.

U = Unfair (How much they like to tease)

They are huge teases. Astarion a bit more than her.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Estellé can be loud, but she tries to tone it down. Soft whimpers, sighs, the occasional "fuck". Most of the time, she moans into his mouth because this guy can't stop kissing her.

Astarion groans and growls deeply, which turns Estellé on very much.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Astarion likes to cook for her, but sometimes lies and says that his mom send it via teleportation.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Estellè has a beauty mark in her inner thigh.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Astarion has a higher sex drive. Estellés used to be lower especially after her ex but she caught up quickly.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

As they only trance they cuddle and stay awake for a bit longer. They talk about everything and anything or Astarion reads to her.

Tagging: @cinnamontails-ff @larvasmoon @busy-baker

[felmonth]

Hello everyone!

As I said before, since a while ago I wanted to change the content and well, I don't know if it's interesting to see but I will post these drawings that are from a long time ago when I draw my ocs more frequently, I want to take them back and make a new story so don't hold back asking about these new characters, I leave their names and small descriptions.

Kuppis

These creatures behave like birds, make canary sounds and eat cookies, I was inspired by Pokémon to make these characters, I hope you like my creatures.

Old design:

Felmonth

First... Felmonth is not me, is my oc, Felmonth is actually a formless smiling slimy mass that in order to have a physical body, it has to devour people, although it can't just eat them, it has to make its victim depressed to the brink of collapse and then devour them, however, the physical body it has after it has devoured someone, after a few minutes or so after the victim is consumed, cracks and breaks, making it short lived. Basically the story I have from Felmonth is how to get out of the depths of depression, I don't know how to fully develop it but it's more or less the attempt.

Fushi Sweetheart

This character was my favorite since 2016, I had a story together with a friend but since we don't talk for a long timew anymore, I had to start from scratch so he has a side story as Tom's adopted son, yes....the puppet, like the movie Peabody and Sherman (I love that movie) but actually the original story Fushi had and I plan to develop it again, he was the typical human half demon, but this time he is a demon of the "cracks", because of his emotions the cracks react to his magic and so, I have comics but I don't plan to show them since I don't consider him canon in my head now, the person who can see him is Lulu >:3 mwehehe nah it's joke xd I'll leave all the mystery to Lulu and you guys too.

Pettitil (Bunny) and Eve (Elf)

The world my characters inhabit is a place where they only learn magic and consequences of it by using it, as the original story is cruel and sad, this time it's much more regulated soft but having the conflict of the characters, I didn't feel comfortable with the original story XD literally everyone died and I don't like that.

Pettitil is a bunny girl, she is the middle sister of 8 bunny siblings, she has plant magic, she acts as the older sister of another character I will show later, named "Lionel", she treats that boy like her brother since Lio is going through a hard time with his demanding family, Pettitil's father has no problem with her inviting his friend over for tea at home. She has no definite age (in fact, none of my characters are of age, but until their story is fixed, the characters will be between 20 years old and up)

Eve the elf, a clumsy but kind hearted girl, her family is poor but she has the opportunity to study thanks to a lottery provided by a school, her world falls apart when her mother demands her to marry to get riches, she doesn't want to marry someone she doesn't love but she is forced to get together with someone, she meets Lionel her "fiancé" they both become friends and realize they are nothing for each other in terms of falling in love.

Mimi the faun

According to the comics I have of her, she is a tarot reader, her magic specializes in intuition and divination, she has no personality yet, so in the comics she survived without personality.

To be continued...

[all-things-skylanders]

Could I request some boom bloom headcannons and share one of them (she’s bisexual )

Yeah, looking her over, I can definitely see that Boom Bloom has Bi Energy. This is actually the first requested character I don't have in my collection, so I'm relying on the wiki alone.

Updated Lore:

Boom Bloom was a sentient tree at one point, helpless and yet peaceful. She had no name, and yet everyone in the grove knew her, and she knew everyone else. Of course, that was because her only neighbors were other sentient trees! Boom Bloom lived for over a thousand years, meaning that she had watched the fall of the Arkeyan empire at the hands of the Giants, though she had never learned what it was like to meet the fabled Tree Rex.

After nearly twelve-hundred years of life, Boom Bloom found herself growing increasingly bored of the status quo. She had counted the leaves of every tree in sight a thousand times over, watched blades of grass wither with unwavering focus, and survived locust attacks for generations.

When change finally came, it was in the form of an Ent Ninja and his apprentice. The ent was the supposed Guardian of the Forest, though he mostly stuck to the more populated areas. The grove however, was the perfect spot for him and the little elf girl with him to train. For years, Boom Bloom watched as the elf grew into the future warrior, Stealth Elf. Boom Bloom herself watched the ninja training every day as well, soaking everything that she needed to know up, unlike the other trees who didn't care for learning such frivolities that they would never use.

When Stealth Elf graduated and moved on, the status quo set back in, but only for a short while. The villanous Dr. Krankcase dug up the entire grove of its trees and brought them to his lab for experiments, mutating each of them into what were intended to be his minions. The trees didn't take kindly to this, and were quick to rebel with their new bodies. All of Boom Bloom's old friends quickly were destroyed, as they knew nothing of using their physical forms, but Boom Bloom had learned of combat through watching the ninjas train, so with the help of her mutated powers, she destroyed Krankcase's entire laboratory, where the villain only escaped by a hair.

Boom Bloom's ancient wisdom and prowess rivaling the most decorated skylanders in the team, Boom Bloom was quick to become a Sensei when she sought out the famed Master Eon, teaching giddy recruits in the pursuit of patience.

Other Stuff:

Boom Bloom is Bisexual, though not towards other creatures. Boom Bloom has been caught flirting with flowers and shrubs around the academy, and has yet to exhibit any attraction to something capable of returning those feelings.

Due to their pasts as mutated trees, and similar ages, Boom Bloom and Tree Rex share a connection, and are commonly paired as duos when big guns need to be called in.

Boom Bloom sees Stealth Elf as something like a daughter, and tries to go on bonding activities and hang-outs, only to confuse Stealth Elf more and more, since the elf herself never knew Boom Bloom had been watching, and therefor felt none of the bond that Boom Bloom did.

Boom Bloom has next to zero social understanding. While she talks very formally and is seemingly polite at first, she can be blunt, emotional and easily confused, since she knows very little of her world beyond what she eavesdropped. She also has next to no concept of mortality and time, so she's given quite a few skylanders existential dread over their short lives.

Boom Bloom has severe survivor's guilt, as she knew her grove mates for nearly twelve centuries, and now she is the last one left. On late nights, she may be found in the middle of Life Zones, mourning her kin.

WOAH! That was a lot more than I expected to write, Boom Bloom really spoke to me a lot! She has a really solid concept that lends itself to my favorite brand of angst quite well, so I guess I kinda went overboard.

That's what I could come up with for Boom Bloom. Do you like it? I'm always down for feedback, as long as it's polite ^^

[localravenclaw]

Of Meteors and Men

Sebastian Sallow × f!reader

Word Count: 2.8k

Theme: fluff, smut

Summary: Sebastian asks you an important question after a tryst under the stars

Warnings: Aged up 18+ nothing extreme, just lots of banter and teasing

---

"Where's Ominis?" You unceremoniously plopped down next to Sebastian wolfing down his second bowl of stew in a now bustling Great Hall.

It has become almost a ritual for you and the two Slytherin boys to spend your evenings together. However, with your impending NEWTS, Ominis Gaunt seemed to have made himself more scarce than usual.

"In the library writing his Charms essay," came Sebastian's response.

"And what about your essay?"

"Please, Charms is my middle name."

You rolled your eyes at him, bracing yourself for yet another casual banter.

"Oh? I thought it was Delusional?"

He snorted, shooting a cocky grin your way. "I'll do it tomorrow. I'm done for today."

"Very well, I think I'll join you in the library tomorrow then," you relented, wondering why he yielded so quickly this time, but then...

"Can't get enough of me eh?" Sebastian started again, shooting a mischievous grin that threatened to knock you off your seat.

"You're such a flirt," you pouted, looking away so he wouldn't notice the flush of red creeping to your face.

"Like you don't enjoy it," came the salt to your wound.

You shook your head in surrender, hoping he wouldn't notice the redness that now filled your cheeks. You wondered if hormones has something to do with your reaction to him recently. Surely, he hasn't been this charming the whole time!

"Hey, you wanna watch the meteor shower with me tonight?" you asked without looking at him, hoping he wouldn't notice your desperate attempt to thwart his flirting.

"Eager to spend after hours with me, aren't you?" he snickered. You rolled your eyes at him again and made a gagging gesture he chose to ignore.

"Hmm, meteor shower? Isn't that something you'd typically be asking Amit?"

"Very well then, maybe I would!" you huffed, annoyed that he didn't immediately jump at the invitation.

"Hold on! Hold on! I didn't say no!"

"Then say yes!" you seethed at incessant playfulness.

"You know I'd say yes to everything you ask of me," he said with a wink.

"Whatever," you shrugged, pretending the wink didn't rob you of a heartbeat or two. "I know the perfect spot. Meet me at the clock tower courtyard at 9 o'clock," you finished before sauntering away to avoid any further flirting. "And bring your broom!"

Sebastian sat scratching his head as he watched you disappear in a sea of students. He could feel his excitement building at the thought of spending some alone time with you. Technically, you didn't say not to invite Ominis, but you also never said he could join. A bulb lit up in Sebastian's mind and he rushed towards the Slytherin common room, abandoning his supper.

---

Sebastian made sure he was fifteen minutes early for your rendezvous. After your conversation at the Great Hall, he felt the need to put his best foot forward this time. He even went so far as to put on cologne! As he watched your cloaked figure approach him, he couldn't help but feel his instincts validated.

"Aren't you a vision to behold!" Sebastian greeted with a whistle.

You paid his flattery with a sarcastic smile, suddenly growing very conscious of your choice of wardrobe— a cream chiffon night dress that stopped just above your knees, covered up by your favourite ivory Historian's cloak.

You eyed him up and down in return, trying not to give away your astonishment by discreetly swallowing at the sight of him in his dark green summer pyjamas.

"What's that?" he gestured at the brown leather bag you have in your right hand.

"It's my nab sack," you answered as if it's the most obvious thing in the world.

"Your what?"

"My nab sack."

"Yeah, that clarifies nothing."

"It's an enchanted bag my elf friend gave me."

"You own an echanted bag?"

"Mm-hmm."

"And you have an elf friend??"

"Yes!" you quipped impatiently. "Now, are you gonna continue being amazed at how awesome I am or are we gonna watch the meteor shower?"

"I'm always amazed by everything about you, it's nothing new," he teased.

You stared at him blanky, trying not betray the cartwheels your stomach is making at the sight of his amorous grin. He's getting better at catching you offguard recently, you thought to yourself.

"Fine. Where are we heading?"

You squinted towards the hills west of the owlery and pointed at a vague spot between two jutting hills.

"You see that small plateau over there?"

Sebastian squinted at the dark skies, following your direction.

"Last one there is a rotten horklump!" you announced, pulling out an ornate silver broom from your nab sack and promptly taking off towards the mountains.

"Oh no you don't!" Sebastian skillfully mounted his broom and followed chase.

-----------

Small torces lit up as your feet touched the landing platform, making it creak and groan into an active position. Sebastian followed shortly after with a small "whoo!" of excitement

"How did you find this place?" he panted, taking the view in.

"Stumbled upon it on one of the flying courses I did with Imelda Reyes."

He looked around at the ambient torces burning along the edge of the platform.

"Well, this is cozy. What in the—?! How in Merlin's beard did you fit that thing in there??"

You ignored the look of shock on the Slytherin's face as you pulled out a thick fleece blanket from your nab sack and started to lay it over the platform.

"Are you just gonna stand there or are you gonna help me get comfortable?" you asked impatiently, wrestling with the creases you're making as you tried and failed to straighten the blanket out.

I can think of other ways to get comfortable, Sebastian wanted to say but instead, he chewed on his lip and shook his head, trying not to look any more obvious than he already is.

After a few minutes of repositioning and straitening your makeshift bed, you check your compass and looked up at a now, clear and starry sky.

"Okay, so if my calculations are correct, the meteor shower should come from that side," you concluded, seating yourself facing north.

Sebastian huffed and took off his slytherin robe, beads of sweat peppered his brows.

"I don't know about you, but I, am boiling! Is there a way we can turn these torches off?"

You nodded and with a lazy wave of your wand, the little flames around the platform gradually flickered out.

The newfound darkness made the stars twinkle even brigher as you laid your head on you palms, gazing up at the sky. In the corner of your eye, you couldn't help but notice Sebasian, now in the process of taking off his pyjama top. You swallow, trying hard to map the constellations instead of the toned muscles on his chest.

He loomed over you, half naked and content in his new level of comfort. The mild breeze carried the faint musk of his cologne and invaded your olfactory senses like a welcomed siege.

"Alright then, your turn," he jestured at your robes with a sly smile.

"Shut up, you stinky hornklump!" you playfully jeered, but taking your robes off nonetheless. The cool summer breeze was refreshing.

"The meteor shower should start in approximately ten minutes."

"Exciting," he remarked dryly, taking out a cloth parcel. "I didn't see you at supper so I brought us snacks from the kitchen just in case you're hungry."

You smiled at his thoughtfulness and gratefully accepted a juicy-looking bunch of grapes.

Sebastian laid down next to you and proceeded to levitate individual grapes towards his mouth. He lifted his head and chomped one from the air with a playful Rah!

You giggled and tried to imitate him, but fell a few centimeters short away from your grape. You lifted yourself by your elbows and the grape seemed to have distanced itself from your reach. You made a face at it while Sebastian let out an amused laugh, watching intently as you pursed your lips, hoping to suck enough air to pull the grape towards you.

"Merlin, I've never wanted to be a fruit so badly," he muttered under his breath.

You shoot him a sardonic look and extended your tongue instead, expertly coaxing the fruit toward you with a little curl. Sebastian's pupils dilated as he sucked in enough air to overfill his lungs.

"Merlin help me," he whispered to himself.

You laughed at his helplessness. He's a massive flirt and a sarcastic little charmer, but two can play this game, and you're not one to lose to Sebastian Rotten Horklump Sallow.

"Look!" Sebastian suddenly exclaimed, pointing at a tiny glint in the sky.

One.

Two.

Three.

And then five or more altogether!

Glittering streaks of white light filled the night sky in quick, random succession.

"Incredible! you breathed, your eyes glistening in amazement, mirroring the sparkling summer night.

Sebastian cooly rested in his spot, head on his hands and breathing a sigh of utter contentment.

The last of the meteors fell faintly, and you reached an arm out to the sky as if to catch one before letting your hand idly hover, poiting towards the stars. Sebastian did the same, pointing out the very last one before mimicking your laguid gesture. Your arms touched, sending electricity all the way down to your shoulder. You fixed your eyes on a random cluster of stars, denying the tension that's building from your skin merely touching his. He rubbed the back of his index finger against yours, making you let out an involuntary sigh.

Slowly, he moved his hand to meet your palm and you extend your fingers to give space for his. Your digits interlaced and he started rubbing his thumb on the back of yours, ever so slightly applying pressure and squeezing your hand as if to tether himself to you.

You closed your eyes and hummed contentendly, before quickly realizing he'd let go. You let your hand drop to your side. You opened your eyes only to find his face mere centimeters away from yours. His eyes dancing, searching for something in yours.

"Can I kiss you?" he whispered shyly.

You parted your lips to answer but your breath catches in your throat.

"Can I?" he asked again, almost pleading this time.

"Ye—" you barely made out an answer before his lips met yours, soft and chaste, then deep and needy, making you grab at the sheets beneath you. You whimpered in his mouth, kissing him back, inviting his tongue in a torrid dance. You grabbed at his arms as his kisses become more frantic. He moved hungrily to trace the line of your jaw to the base of your neck. His hand unceremoniously began to undo the top buttons of your night dress before claiming a breast and cupping it possessively, thumb gliding over the now turgid bud.

You gasped loudly at the sudden gush of pleasure emanating from his touch. He fully undid the top of your nightie, hungrily taking a breast in his mouth, suckling and painting circles with his hot tongue. You helplessly mewled and shifted from under him, clawing at his shoulders to ground yourself.

Sebastian propped himself with a knee while his other hand made its way to the inside of your thigh, gently raking at the sensitive skin before stopping to trace the lace lining of your underwear. He decidedly took a break from your breast to plead for another consent, eyes seemingly pinning you down with his hungry gaze.

"Let me taste you," he almost demanded.

"Seb, I— no!"

"No?"

"No, please, I'm not ready," you coyly replied, suddenly feeling too self-concious and vulnerable for comfort.

His brows furrowed, but he refused to linger on his disappointment.

"Can I touch you?" he asked in a begging tone that could almost break your heart.

You gave a slight nod and he let out a sigh of relief, as if you just saved his life.

He methodically rolled your dress up your hips and traced the garter of your lace-trimmed underwear, tugging it down ever-so gently. A thin string of wetness lingered as he pulled it down to expose his new focus.

"Fuuuuck," he painfully breathed behind gritted teeth. His eyes darted back and forth, somewhat overwhelmed of where to start. He could feel the uncomfortable tightness of his trousers demanding his attention.

He parted your wetness with his middle finger, deftly exploring the parts that coaxed the best sounds from your lips.

Your eyes snapped shut as he slid a finger inside you, chest heaving from the sensory onslaught Sebastian was putting your through.

He slipped another digit in, making you clasp your mouth to stifle a loud involuntary cry. Sebastian tugged it away, leaning closer so you can hear his words clearly, "I want to hear you."

His eyes had turned dark with need, boring into yours with a primal intensity you've never seen in him before. You nodded, helplessly, hopelessly trying to fight the fog of pleasure overtaking your mind.

He curled his fingers inside you, searching for the mound of flesh he noted made you cry out at the slightest pressure.

Sebastian moved his fingers inside you like a master beckoning his pet to come, his thumb simultaneously stimulating the bundle of nerves he knew was your most sensitive spot.

And come you did. In a slow, intense burst of pleasure that threatened to shatter your core. Fireworks exploded inside your head and you convulsed from under him, back arching to meet his hand. You grabbed his arm to steady it as he proudly watched you ride out the last of your spasms.

He waited until your breathing stabilized before taking his digits back.

You gingerly opened your eyes to find him licking your moisture off his fingers with a self-satisfied look on his face, as yours burn in response.

"I am gonna taste you one way or another," he reasoned with a smugness that is all his.

You let out a breath of amusement and disbelief, turning your head to the side to avoid his ever-so lustful stare.

Sebastian took his robe and draped it over, straightening your dress while allowing you time to process what just happened.

He let himself drop beside you, letting out a resigned sigh before giving the top of your head a kiss. You wiggled closer to him, wrapping a leg over his thigh and taking note of the very obvious bulge in his trousers. Your brain started to clear as you come to the realization of what you must do next. Somehow, as unplanned as the events of tonight had been, you felt the need to reciprocate. You glided your hand over Sebastian's handness, eager for your turn. He gasped and grabbed your wrist, jolting up to meet your gaze.

"No!" he exclaimed with pleading eyes.

You blinked at him, speechless at his sudden unlikely reaction.

"I mean, not like this."

"Sebastian, I—"

"I mean," he said, hoisting you to straddle him, "not until we make it offical."

"What?"

"I want to make it official," he muttered coyly under his breath, eyes darting to the side to hide his already very obvious embarassment.

Wherever the confident, charming Sebastian Sallow went, who knows. The person intensely blushing under you seemed to be a completely different person— unsure and apprehensive, almost self-conscious.

"I want to date you!" he explained. "I want to take you out for butterbeer and long walks or whatever you like! We will do whatever you want to do! I don't know! I'm new to this." He looked back at you, eyes searching yours for a response.

You burst out in fits of giggles and rested your head on his chest.

"Are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?" you teased, settling yourself with the loud thumping of his heart.

"Well, do you... Do you want to be together?" he implored diffidently.

"But we are together!" you hummed absent-mindedly, now busy drawing little circles on his arm.

"You know what I mean!" he grumbled.

"So what are you asking?" you teased further.

"I... I want you to be my girlfriend!" he sounded almost bashfully uncertain, as if you haven't spent the better part of the year aggressively flirting with each other on a daily basis, much to the chagrin of every one of your friends forced to witness.

"I mean, after you've tainted my purity? Do I even have a choice?"

"I'm serious!" he moaned, propping himself up and robbing you of your comfortable position.

"Yes, Sebastian Sallow, I will be your smart, funny, amazing girlfriend!" you solemnly pledged with a hand over your heart.

Sebastian breathed a sigh of relief before biting his lips to hide a ridiculously obvious beam of happiness. He resumed his position before confidently declaring, "You should be honoured."

You grabbed his bulge and gave it quick squeeze, making him loudly cry in surprise, causing nearby birds to scatter.

"I am."

---

Notes:

I may or may not have copyread this one so big apologies for the typos! This has been sitting in my notes for forever but today I decided to bite the bullet and just post it. I haven't written smut in over five years so please be gentle. Anyhoo, thank you for reading and I hope it gave you a giggle or two.

[gyrovagi]

hello and welcome to my gamer's den. i'm lok ming i'm 23 i use it/its pronouns. i draw when my wrist agrees with me but mostly i talk about my ocs instead of actual shit that happens in video games.

quick worldstate/oc rundowns below ⬇️

CANON PROTAGS/NORMAL MEN. INNOCENT MEN:

eloy "el" surana (blood mage/arcane warrior) - i'm like if a control freak could control things ❤️ with blood magic ❤️. generally well-intentioned but hypervigilant, always playing 5d chess about the worst scenario. world's first moral (not necessarily ethical) male bigender manipulator. wields a wholly inappropriate degree of political influence in denerim

seongmin hawke (primarily diplomatic, sword + shield berserker) - afraid that his abandonment issues will leave him. pathologically conflict avoidant, fawn response to the max - up until someone he loves gets threatened, at which point good luck leaving alive lol. 'i don't think i need to talk about my feelings,' says man who just broke the arm of a templar asking around too much about the darktown clinic and then continued making casual conversation with varric as if nothing happened

ga-sun "arav'assan" lavellan (archer, assassin) - king of compartmentalization. would really prefer to be one guy helping people on the ground rather than the unwilling inquisitor chained by power he never wanted, fighting for his life to be as politically uninvolved as possible. guy who is duty-bound never to return home

dak-wai schlegel (spellblade) - bellara kisser, direct port of my bg3 durge. tal-vashoth grey warden mage seeking a righteous purpose after a complicated and bloody past, but who has yet to find a better general approach to problems than killing things with hammers.

TGIRLS SAVE THE WORLD(STATE):

sang tabris (champion) - next shem bastard who pisses me off i'm just going to fucking kill you. alistair did you eat yet ^_^. struggling to reconcile an irrepressible hope for a better world with the abject horrors he's been subjected to by the world he lives in at present. morrigan's lesbian husband.

so-min hawke (blood mage) - girl could you at least pretend not to be a chantry-hating apostate in the middle of the gallows. carver just got suddenly pissed off in a darkspawn tunnel and he knows it's not because of the genlocks

r trevelyan (rift mage) - tranquil since 18, and at age 33, honestly dealing pretty well with accidentally getting a magical lobotomy reversed. yeah ok so maybe the random prolonged neutral-expression weeping is a little off-putting. it's hard when you're the white girl who needs to save yourself and you're still figuring out the girl part

yazmin de riva (duelist) - embittered half-elf bastard child of the young lord owain trevelyan. frighteningly competent and driven, but has difficulty taking orders and working with others due to the huge chip on her shoulder. thinks lucanis dellamorte is a nepo baby

INSANE WOMEN AND MALE MANIPULATORS:

ngayu brosca (reaver) - what do you MEAN the fate of the country is dependent on two twenty-year-olds one of whom gets scared looking at the sun. has never once in her life believed she would live past twenty and that's looking increasingly likely as a prediction

rina hawke (assassin) - when you are endlessly bitter and refuse to deal with it in any healthy way because that would require you to acknowledge your resentment towards the family members you perceive as a burden. chronically insincere, subservient but seething the whole time, wouldn't be able to name a solid belief if you asked her, incapable of self-reflection. crack baby you don't know what you want...

caden trevelyan (templar) - wildly repressed homosexual. has weird ideas about being a man. constantly develops obsessive fixations on authoritative older men. believes he has the divine right to mete out violence but also that he has to spend his whole life repenting for his own existence. white boy who sucks 🔥

ha-neul aldwir (slayer) - born in the minrathous ambassadoria, hasn't been back there for half his life. fascinated by magic and magical artifacts since a young age. something of an oddity by both dwarven and non-dwarven standards, a guy with an endless thirst for life and little interest in denying himself pleasure or dwelling in guilt, for better or worse. unserious.

PRONOUNS USERS GOING THROUGH IT/TRAGEDY WORLDSTATE:

enasa mahariel (ranger) - deadalive nothing girl who isn't. didn't anticipate that taking the vallaslin of dirthamen, twin brother to death, would be quite so prophetic. very clearly crumbling under mounting pressure while refusing to stop dragging the rotting corpse

bryn hawke (force mage) - half-avvar on malcolm's side, raised with what avvar beliefs and practices their father could half-remember from childhood. never quite at home in ferelden and struggling to come to terms with the idea they'll never be quite at home in their mother's city either. quietly shouldering other's burdens until it chokes them.

ga-kei lavellan (knight-enchanter) - turns out when you take an anxiety-ridden elf burdened with excess responsibility since youth out of their familiar environment and support system she'll have a bad time. solas' ex-spouse still misses him… but their aim's getting better!

orpheus ingellvar (death caller) - < he doesn't know (that he's the child of the last theirin king and the missing presumed dead hero of ferelden). surprisingly cheerful for a guy collectively raised by a bunch of necromancers, seems like a polite young man, but then he says something weird and offputting that makes you realize he's spent a lot of his life interacting with skeletons. and nevarrans.

ASSORTED GUYS:

dea surana - reserved but observant, knows it's best not to attract attention, tries to look after herself and her own in the ways she can. surprisingly worldly/cynical after her brother was taken by the templars at a young age and her life afterwards was spent largely on the road. then her situationship was like 'you know the hero of ferelden is named surana? circle mage, relative of yours?' and now she regularly talks to the king of ferelden

owain trevelyan - never really stopped hoping his older brother would come back from the circle and everything would be fine again. he's socially well-connected and charismatic, and could make for an influential heir to the house with motivation and an advantageous marriage - but he's a lot more interested in dragon hunting and boy bestiesisms with the prince of starkhaven.

valerie trevelyan - black sheep of the family, annoyed that this is more about lesbianism than being a fantasy communist. managed to pull off a 'buy my silence - for $8000 a month i will stop' ploy on her parents at 20, before she knew that this would end with her as the warden-commander's sister-in-law

kyunghee andras - former keeper of clan lavellan. her magical talent as a spirit healer was undeniable, her leadership capability was another matter. afflicted by the taint in a darkspawn raid that killed her husband, conscripted by the wardens c. 9:19. hasn't communicated with clan lavellan since informing them she survived the joining, out of the belief that as a symbolically dead woman, it would be best to cleanly sever ties. her orphaned daughter is probably fine.

daeun andras - kyunghee's daughter, taken in by her uncles at age 7 after her father was killed by darkspawn and her mother conscripted. both her parents were talented mages; she never manifested the gift, but her older cousin ga-kei did. ends up joining the veil jumpers to try and step out of her family members' shadows.

ga-hou lavellan - middle sibling b/w ga-kei and ga-sun, closer to both of them than they are with each other. one of clan lavellan's craftsmen. tends to take things a little too lightly, an optimist unconcerned with anything outside of the clan and the present. the siblings' dads (and ga-kei, and his wife) are hoping the birth of his daughter will make him more serious. ga-sun likes him as he is.

everybody's parents tend to be less developed than their kids are but they exist. In my mind . there's also a couple other extremely incidental fellas but they'll come up when they come up. i might also ramble about my non-da guys here but (closes my eyes and passes away silently)

[svperluminous]

Some ideas from my Space Pirate Finnegrin AU

The premise of the story is that Callum needs to go somewhere or is looking for something (I still haven't figured out what he wants actually) but he's a prince and he doesn't want his parents to know what he's planning (both Harrow and Sarai are alive) so he hires an infamous space pirate who is known as a skilled pilot (one of the best pilots in the system, actually) and smuggler.

His crew are three of his crew from the show (the purple haired ram horned Earthblood elf I named Salma, the red curly haired human I named Rudy and the green haired tall and muscular Earthblood elf I named Theo) plus Elmer. Finn is more like their friend than their boss and he calls Elmer by his real name.

Thus begins their unlikely alliance. They do argue a lot in the beginning, Finn's ship breaks down at one point, they get attacked fairly frequently xD

At one point Callum's life is in danger because another pirate is pointing a gun at him and Finn shouts "you don't wanna kill 'im! He's [name]'s nephew!" and the person he name-drops is a pirate no one wants to cross. Finn later calls her and asks for a favor to pretend to be Callum's aunt. She's a Katolian and doesn't have any kids but her brother has some and no one actually keeps track of how many he has. She's not happy about it but she agrees. They later contact her brother, just in case. He immediately recognizes Callum as the prince of Katolis and gets super mad at Finnegrin for 1. getting Callum in trouble and 2. creating this whole charade. Finn doesn't understand why he's angry. Only later is it revealed that this is Callum's bio dad. He knows Callum is his son but for whatever reasons could not take part in his life.

One time they stumble upon a freshly killed Startouch elf and Finn's eyes see money! This universe still has magic and dark mages would pay looooooots of money for a fresh Startouch corpse! He puts it into the stasis chamber of his ship but Callum complains the whole way that this is wrong and that the body needs to be returned to their family. Finally, Finn caves in and agrees to bring the body to the closest Startouch embassy.

In this universe, Startouch elves live on a remote station and act like a sovereign nation. Aaravos lives on Earth, on the Xadian continent and is known as an eccentric rich guy. He doesn't like other Startouch elves but no one knows why (yet).

So it's the middle of the night and Finn and his crew, accompanied by Callum, are carrying the body wrapped in a rug through the sleepy streets xD well, Elmer is doing the carrying. They place the body at the entrance and are about to leave, when the door opens and a Startouch woman looks at them. They all freeze, Finn reaches for his gun but she tells them not to panic. She introduces herself as the dead elf's sister and tells them she saw them coming here in a vision. She knows they didn't kill her brother and she's just happy to get his body, so she can say goodbye and bury him.

She wipes her tears and invites them inside. Finnegrin is absolutely against it but she offers tea and cookies and Rudy and Theo just run after her. Finn follows them grumpily xD

The Startouch elf tells them how and why her brother was killed as well as about a conflict yet to come. A conflict in which they will take part. She breaks off a piece of her brother's horn and gives it to Callum, saying that he might need it at one point.

In this universe, dark magic is not necessarily evil and Aaravos can't control dark mages. If an ingredient was given willingly and the castor's intentions are good, then there's little to no damage from casting a dark magic spell.

I don't have everything figured out yet but the conflict is basically a Startouch civil war that Aaravos starts and our heroes just land smack into it and somehow help stop it xD Finnegrin learns to be less selfish by following Callum's example.

[brynnamonroll]

2, 12, 21, 25 for the end of the year asks! (:

Yaaaaay okay! (Mutuals who missed the original post, here you go! Please ask me more of these!)

2. Album of the Year

I mean. Rise and Fall of a Midwest Princess was always going to run away with this. One of my cool coworkers told me about her in like, March, so as far as lesbians go I was a bit late to the Chappell Roan party. You have no idea how delighted I am that there's an out and proud lesbian artist that the queer women I hang around with are listening to that makes music that's like, fun? And actually hot? Can you tell that I was not thriving in the King Princess/girl in red era?

Her poppiest songs are a ton of fun and her ballads will rip your heart out and she knows how to energize a crowd. She gives me the same feeling I had when I was 11 and listening to Born This Way singles on the radio. I literally can't wait for her next album so we can get an official version of The Giver. I would go to war for her.

My top three songs on the album... it's really hard to pick three, and they're not the ones I necessarily listened to the most. But... Pink Pony Club, Red Wine Supernova, and Picture You.

Honorable mention goes to Megan thee Stallion. I'm glad she's out of her old deal and she's making music when and how she wants! Top three songs off Megan are Moody Girl, BOA, and Downstairs DJ. (Although Otaku Hot Girl and Mamushi are both great too. I think it's very cute that the second she went indie she made a couple of weeb songs and she's clearly having the time of her life.)

12. New Friends I Made This Year

Hello lovely new mutuals!

I've also gotten out to a lot of poetry readings this year and I've made new friends that way. I tried salsa dancing for a bit. I'm really pleased with how often I'm getting out lately. I might even head to my local queer craft night next month!

People have been very kind to me this year, honestly. I'm happy about that if nothing else.

21. Something new about my space this year

I took up crochet when I was feeling low at the beginning of the year and now I have so many handmade items in my room! My favorite thing I've actually finished is the princess pillow I posted a while back. Hopefully next year I get my own apartment and I can post all kinds of decor instead of staring longingly at furniture websites and pinterest boards...

I've also been to a couple new cafes in my area and I've found some new walking trails with my friends. Both have been especially lovely.

25. New characters I've created this year

Well! I started playing BG3 this year. I've been kinda making up what my Tav is like as I go along, so nothing's super definitive yet. But! I'm in the middle of Act II and here's what I've got so far. (Here's my first drawing of her. I don't love her outfit yet, so I'll probably draw a few more until I get it right. This is also like, not based on any particular in game clothes, and she's the kind of person who would be very particular about her nice outfits.)

So. Her name is Chrysanthe. She's a half-elf storm sorceress with a noble background. (I haven't completely hashed out the details there, but she at least knew of Wyll before meeting him in game. They'd become "raised with the same stupid expectations" besties, though taking them in a romantic direction would probably be cute too.) She's a bit vain and very protective of her little luxuries, but she really works hard to keep everybody happy and try to find solutions that are agreeable to everybody, but it doesn't always work out for her. A lot of her successful wisdom checks are more outgrowths of trying to understand people she's run into since she left her family, rather than being the type to hole up in a library. (I always like to make characters that come from a well-off, sheltered background that then have to learn about the world firsthand on their own and realize that the world is way kinder than they were ever told. I'm a sucker for that kind of story.) Much like her stormy magic, she's a bit prone to mood swings. I'm romancing her and Karlach right now and I think they would really have a good understanding of each other that way. Chrysanthe probably gets more sad than angry, but somehow it all cancels out when she and Karlach are together.

Also! Chrysanthe means golden (it was the first name that Behind the Name gave me) and it's because of the golden central heterochromia that runs in her family. She's not a natural blonde.

... Reading all this back feels a bit funny. This is the most fun I've had creating a character for something since I was in middle school tbh. Can you tell?

[marvelmymarvel]

Okay so I have major writers block but I have to share my LOTR idea with yall. And I'm almost certain I am breaking so much cannon lore with the idea but I wanna do it anyway because I can. So please do not correct me, I know I'm wrong just have fun with it.

So here is my idea.

The reader is someone from here and ends up in Middle Earth. Elrond found her and put some of his blood in her to make her immortal. She technically is an elf but looks like a human. The orcs have been chasing after her for thousands of years. so Elrond, to keep her safe, sends her off to Mirkwood to stay with Thranduil. She hates it and manages to sneak out and join the dwarves on their adventures. They don't know she has elven blood in her until they meet with Elrond in Rivendell.

The scene where they are in Rivendell is where my newest idea is placed. Elrond pulls her aside and states that they (Elrond, Thranduil, Gandalf, and Galadriel) haven't been honest with her and have finally decided to open up about her true origin.

Also, all of this is to the song Ptolomaea by Ethel Cain (https://youtu.be/aLy27Xo-gos?si=AcO8odVHGrtgKGIp) Mainly the last part where the darker voice is talking... Art of Elven Sauron below is by Csanikainferna

Elrond eyed you, hesitant with how much to say and how much to show. "I haven't been honest with you... How old do you think you are?"

Your eyebrows furrowed and your eyes slid to Gandalf standing beside the fountain. The three of you were outside in the courtyard, the moonlight shining down and illuminating his gray hair. "I'm around 3,000 years old..." you trailed off as you looked back to Elrond who only stared at you blankly as he gnawed on his lip. "Who found you?"

"You did, what are these questions??" you bit back, nerves finally eating away at you as dread fell over your senses. Elrond sighed before moving towards you, "I should have done this a long time ago, but I was afraid doing so would put you in danger-"

You stepped back away from him, hand coming up to stop him from advancing. "I'm scared-"

"3,000 years ago I took your memories away. I'm going to give them back. All you need to remember is that he won't hurt you... Do you trust me?"

You were frozen but slowly felt yourself nod at the one person you trusted more than anyone else on this continent. His fingers came up and rested on your forehead, "You're safe, I'll be here when you come back-"

Darkness sucked you in before he had a chance to finish his sentence. Your eyes blinked open, blearily looking around the dark space around you. Rocks stabbed into your skin and a terrible heat was making it hard to breathe. Suddenly, ugly faces hovered over you and you gasped in fright as the orcs hauled you up from the ground. Your feet were kicking and you screamed out for them to let you go as they dragged you to the castle. It had dawned on you rather swiftly that you were in Mordor.

Fear coursed through your veins as large doors opened before you, showcasing a large room with a man sitting rigidly on the throne. It felt as if the wind had been knocked out of you at the sight of the blonde man before you. You didn't know how and you didn't know why, but he felt familiar.

He felt like home.

"Why hello there... What might your name be?"

You knew who he was, knew him as the dark lord. He was the nightmare mothers would tell their children about when they were misbehaving. He was murderous. A monster.

And yet, all you felt when looking up at him was peace, as if you had been searching for him for many millennia and you finally found him.

"I'm-"

The scene shifted and suddenly multiple images and moments flashed before your very eyes. Tears started to stream down your face as you took in just how much the feared man loved you. You had begged him to give up his desire for power and control, questioning if he really loved you. That argument seemed to anger him, because he loved you more than anything, and his power would be shared with you.

The both of you would rule the world.

The scenes continued to flash quickly as the conversations morphed into a high-pitched scream before it all went silent and you were looking down at your peacefully sleeping body that was wrapped in black silk sheets. The door to the room opened and you whirled around in fright.

From the darkness emerged Elrond and it finally dawned on you that you weren't saved from Sauron.

You were taken from him.

You stepped in front of your sleeping body but Elrond moved through you as if you didn't exist, only reminding you that this was a memory.

A memory that was stolen from you.

"Oh my... What... Who is she?" Another voice came from the doorway and you knew it was one of Elrond's generals. "I thought she was a myth... But I can already see his magic wearing off... If we don't give her something, she won't last through the night..."

Your eyebrows furrowed as you looked over their shoulder and you noticed the color from your face draining. Elrond scooped you up in his arms, "Gandalf can transfer some of my life force to her, but we must hurry" he said swiftly as they moved out of the bedroom.

The scenes morphed again before flashing, showing you the memories you were allowed to remember. From waking up in Rivendell, acclimating to immortality, being transported to Mirkwood, meeting Thorin, to all the way up to now where you were on the ground kneeling in front of Elrond. Tears streaming down your face as he held you close.

You tilted your head down at the sight, confused as to why you weren't in your own body still, but you would soon get your answer. Your head fell backward, mouth opening as a scream ripped from your throat. Your chest lifted up into the air as if you were being possessed.

The scream cut off, leaving you all in silence. Gandalf was gripping his chest in disbelief as Elrond stroked your cheek with his thumb. "Y/n-"

Your head snapped forward, e/c eyes now blazing red, the same red of the lovers they stole you from.

"Y/n, wake up-" Elrond stated firmly as he tried to shake you out of it.

"I am no good nor evil, simply I am and I have come to take what is mine" The dark tone coming from your lips had you reeling back in fear, realization dawning on you that you had indeed been possessed.

Elrond paled at the words as my possessed lips slipped up into a snarling grin. He opened his mouth to curse at the dark lord in your body, but you continued. "I was there in the dark when you spilled your first blood. I am here now, as you run from me still."

Gandalf rushed forward, hand coming out to try and rip the dark lord from your body.

Your red eyes flicked to Gandalf, "Run then, child," Gandalf ignored the threat and slammed his hand onto your head, making you start to slump over. The red in your eyes started to fade and you began to feel the pull of your by-standing soul into your once-possessed body.

"You can't hide from me forever."