#because like. i ALREADY felt guilty about that

[capquinn]

how would quinn react to reader doing that prank about when he says “goodbye/goodnight i love you” and you don’t say “i love you” back just to mess with him

omg this guy avoids tiktok like it’s the plague so there is no doubt in my mind that he has absolutely no idea about this trend so he’d be SO confused and wouldn’t know what to do with himself except pout and stay close until he gets to the bottom as to why you hadn’t said it back 😭

Quinn’s brow furrowed the second the words left his mouth and yours didn’t follow.

“See you soon. I love you,” he had said, as casually as ever, tossing his backpack over one shoulder, leaning in for his usual goodbye kiss.

But instead of the automatic, almost musical "love you too," that always followed, there was… nothing. Just you, standing there, watching him with the faintest glimmer of mischief in your eyes. At first, he paused, waiting like you’d simply forgotten. Maybe you were distracted. Maybe you didn’t hear him. He glanced back at the door, then at you again, the crease between his brows deepening.

“You good?” he asked, his voice light but tinged with the slightest bit of uncertainty, like he wasn’t entirely sure if this was normal or if he’d just entered a parallel universe where you suddenly forgot how this whole goodbye thing worked.

“Yeah,” you said breezily, smiling just enough to make him squint.

“Okay,” he said, drawing the word out as he shifted his bag higher on his shoulder.

He moved toward the door, opening it halfway before pausing again. And you could see it — really see it now — the way his mind was spinning, trying to figure out what he’d done, if he’d done anything, and why you weren’t playing along.

He half-turned, his hand on the doorknob, giving you one last expectant look.

“You, uh…” He hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck, his voice quieter now. “You sure everything’s okay?”

You nodded, biting your bottom lip to keep from laughing.

“Yep.”

And that’s when the full force of Quinn’s what-the-hell-is-going-on face hit you. He didn’t look mad — not even close — but the confusion was written all over him. His mouth opened, closed, and then opened again like he was about to ask a question but didn’t quite know how to phrase it. His hand fell from the door as he took a step closer, his eyes narrowing slightly.

“You didn’t… You didn’t say it back,” he pointed out, almost cautiously, like maybe it wasn’t something you’d realised. “I said 'I love you.' You usually…” He trailed off, his lips pressing into a thin line as he waited for some kind of explanation, one that you weren’t giving because you were too busy pretending you had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. You tilted your head, your expression perfectly blank except for the big, wide eyes you fixed on him.

“Do I not say it enough?” he asked, softer this time, like the words came with a little sting. “Is that what this is?”

And now you felt guilty because, of course, he’d think this was some kind of message, like you were trying to make a point instead of just pulling a dumb prank for no reason other than your own entertainment.

“Quinn,” you started, the smile breaking through despite yourself.

But he cut you off, shaking his head slightly, the tiniest bit of exasperation creeping in.

“Because, like… I mean it every time. You know that, right?”

And now you couldn’t hold it in anymore. The laugh bubbled out, loud and sudden, and you reached for his hand, tugging him closer. “Oh my God, Quinn. I’m kidding. It’s a prank.”

His brow shot up. “A prank?”

“Yeah,” you said, still laughing as you slid your arms around his waist.

He huffed, but there was relief in it, his hands settling on your hips as he gave you a halfhearted glare.

“Not funny,” he muttered, though his lips were already twitching. “I was about to cancel my flight.”

“Sure you were,” you teased, leaning up to press a kiss to his jaw. He didn’t move, but you could feel the smallest twitch of a smile forming despite the way he was still obviously trying to stay mock-annoyed. “See? You’re too sweet. That’s why I had to mess with you.”

Quinn let out a long-suffering sigh, shaking his head like he was already filing this away as one of the countless pranks he’d endure over a lifetime with you.

“Yeah, yeah,” he muttered, his voice gruff but too soft to be anything but affectionate. “You’re lucky I like you.”

You couldn’t help it — you started laughing again, the sound spilling out as you tucked your face against his chest, clutching his shirt like it was the only thing keeping you upright.

“I love you,” you said through your laughter, your voice muffled.

His smile finally broke free, slow and warm and just so Quinn.

“I love you too,” he said, his tone soft now, steady, like those words were always going to be there no matter how much you tried to mess with him.

[hees-mine]

Birthday girl - L. Heeseung

Pairing: heeseung X fem reader

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, multiple orgasms, cursing, stepcest, daddy kink, dirty talk, cheating.

Genre: 18+, stepcest.

Word count: 2k+

-

“Mom, just one, please. I promise it’ll only be one.” It was your 21st birthday, and you celebrated in the kitchen with your mom and your stepdad as you begged her to let you have your first shot on the day you officially turned 21.

“No, I never had a shot at 21,” she simply answers, turning away from you and putting away the leftover cake she had your stepdad buy from the store cause she apparently couldn’t be bothered to get one for you herself.

“Mom, come on, that’s not fair!” You whined. “I’m literally an adult,” you reasoned.

“And you’re literally under my roof,” she replies back nonchalantly like she always does. You hated it when she acted like this.

She would always hold things over your head: no sleepovers, no parties, no boyfriends, no nothing, and it’s not cause she was looking out for you. It’s cause she was jealous of you.

She always told you how she never got to have any of those things, and now you can’t shake the feeling that even though she never directly said it to you, you feel like she’s taking it out on her only daughter, which just isn’t fair.

“Dad!” You turned to heeseung your stepdad, looking for his approval, and he gave you the tiniest hint of a smile while folding his arms and resting against the kitchen counter.

You and your stepdad had a much better relationship than you and your mother, unlike her. He seemed to actually care about you, which is comical cause he wasn’t even your real dad, and he treated you better than your mom ever did.

He’d always vouch for you, defend you when arguments got too heated, and he never made you feel like you were always in the wrong, unlike your mother did.

His care for you did go a lot further than just how a stepdad would care for their stepchild because his hugs would last a couple of seconds too long. His kisses on the cheek were a little too affectionate, and he'd eye you when you wore revealing outfits a bit too much.

You didn't mind, though. You did it on purpose cause you liked the attention. He wasn't your real dad, and besides, you had met him so late in your life that you were already fully grown, and you didn't even see him as a father figure at all.

Dad never even crossed your mind when you thought about him. All you saw was a very attractive man, and you wondered how your strict, bitter mother landed a gem like him.

“You heard your mom.” he swipes the cake as your mom sets it in the fridge and licks the frosting off his fingertip, humming at the sweet taste. “Now go upstairs and get ready for bed, young lady.”

You rolled your eyes and did as he said. You thought he’d vouch for you this time, too, but apparently not.

Little did you know he had other plans up his sleeve. He only said no to you cause he was not about to start a fight with his wife over you taking one measly shot, especially since it was your birthday.

His wife always had a way of making things about her just cause she didn’t get a shot at 21. Why couldn’t you? If he didn’t know any better, he’d say his wife was jealous of her own daughter, and if he’s being honest, it was kinda getting on his nerves the way she’d bitch at you all the time for virtually nothing.

When he married her, she was not like that at all, but once he moved in and you all became family, the whole dynamic changed. She paid more attention to scolding you than him.

He wasn’t needy necessarily, but he did get lonely sometimes, especially in the bedroom, and heeseung noticed that you talked to him more than his own wife.

Which resulted in him developing maybe not a crush but a certain attraction to you, and to his luck, it was mutual between the two of you, considering all the shameless flirting you did back and forth.

At first, he felt a bit guilty, but with the way he was feeling in his marriage, he might as well have been single. He’s not excusing his actions, but he definitely doesn’t care or feel any shame in checking you out from head to toe on a daily basis.

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t spill his load in his palm once or twice at the thought of you.

How could he not when you’d purposefully bend over in front of him pretending that you dropped something or the way you’d push your chest against his whenever you’d hug?

You had already gotten ready for bed, sulking a bit as you leaned against the bed frame, scrolling on your phone.

Heeseung had joined his wife upstairs, lying next to her and sharing a quiet goodnight before they turned off the bedside lamps.

It was always like this: completely silent, no conversation, no talking about the day, no intimacy, absolutely nothing.

Even if he did try to talk, she’d always say she was stressed or tired.

Another one of the reasons Heeseung didn’t feel guilty for having feelings toward you was that you gave him the time of day.

He sighs putting his hands behind his head and staring at the celling finally after an hour passed his wife was fast asleep so he silently slipped out of bed and went to the kitchen where the cupboard was located pulling out a bottle of liquor one he bought expressly for you cause you had been going on all week about wanting to take a shot on your 21st.

He snuck over to your room, knocking on it softly, knowing you’d still be up. You were always up late.

You sighed and got out of bed tossing your blanket to the side and ripping open the door ready to be faced with your mom and some more of her shenanigans. “Wha-“ you stopped mid-way through, shocked to see that it was actually your stepdad instead, and you were pleasantly surprised to see he was in nothing but his underwear and a shirt.

“Hey,” he laughs softly, waving a bottle of liquor in your face along with two shot glasses.

“H-hi,” you smile upon seeing the bottle.

“Are you gonna let me in? Or are you gonna wait for your mom to catch us?” He smirks and you open the door further to let him in…

Read full story on my Patreon!

Last day of discounted subscriptions

[atimesfeeler]

Logan thinks Christmas is annoying. He’s gone through about 200 of them and people don’t get any less crazy about the damned holiday, in fact, they’ve gotten worse. It’s more in your face, more loud, more incessant. He already has a rocky relationship with religion and he knows all the songs and hymns against his will. At best he thinks it’s tacky and annoying. At worst, he thinks it’s suffocating and especially when he was depressed and alone and guilty. The X-Men tried to get him to join their tacky traditions, but Logan only went along if he was dragged there and only snuck the kids and his friends some gifts. Christmas Day wasn’t a thing since everyone had their own ways of spending it and Logan couldn’t let them know he wanted to be invited, wanted a family like that. And then they were gone and every Christmas he spent without hearing about Storm’s decorating or Xavier’s staff parties was a painful reminder he was the blame for the traditions cut short. Seeing everyone be so loud about joy and family and gift giving was practically torture.

This grinch paired with Wade, the most over the top Christmas lover in the neighborhood, is bound to be chaotic.

At the beginning of the month, it’s awful. Logan doesn’t wanna do anything, or even go outside because it’s Christmas out there but now it’s Christmas inside because Wade has already decorated the house the day after Thanksgiving and started singing All I Want For Christmas relentlessly. Logan is even more overstimulated and a grouchy and Wade refuses to not love Christmas because it’s the one time of the year he really looks forward to.

After bickering and pushing against every Christmas thing Wade wanted to do for the whole month, Logan would finally get it around the time they had a big family dinner.

Earlier, Logan felt guilty and bad for hurting Wade’s feelings when one bickering session devolved into a fight over gifts. Logan scoffed when Wade got into his overthinking anxious mode thinking of what to get Laura for Christmas and Logan told him it wasn’t a big deal and Wade realized, basically, that Logan wouldn’t get Wade a thoughtful gift even though he put so much time and effort into Logan’s gift. Logan realized he should actually give a fuck and fixed his attitude a little bit, but he just thought it was annoying quietly.

It isn’t until they are all together for dinner that Logan made the perfect roast for and Wade set up table decorations and meticulously planned the party and they are all laughing and exchanging gifts that Logan finally gets it. Laura visibly brightens when she gets Wade’s gift and softens when she opens Logan’s. He feels stupidly warm and fulfilled and he didn’t need any gifts but he can’t help but be touched by the ones Wade and Laura put together for him. Wade almost cries and exclaims that he didn’t think Logan would get him a Christmas present and this one was the best one ever. Christmas was still loud and annoying but when he had a family to spend it with, it wasn’t so bad.

[bloomzone]

Feeling Overwhelmed? You're Not Alone. Let's Talk About It..

I know we all go through it. You’re balancing school, friends, family, and everything else, and suddenly, it feels like you're carrying the weight of the world. Lately, I've been feeling burned out, overwhelmed, and like everything is piling up at once. With school stress, exams, and the constant pressure to keep up, I sometimes feel like I can’t breathe. It's exhausting, and I'm sure some of you feel the same.

It’s so easy to get stuck in the cycle of trying to do everything perfectly. Every time you think you’ve got it under control, something else comes at you, and you’re back to square one and YES THIS IS ANNOYING!!!. It's like there’s a never-ending list of things to do, and no matter how hard you work, you never seem to catch a break.

And the worst part? The pressure from others. Whether it's friends, classmates, or even family, there's always someone asking you for help. Sometimes I feel like I’m the go-to person for everything—assignments, questions, last-minute requests. And don’t get me wrong, I want to be helpful, but it can get draining. Especially when you're trying to hold it together and just need a little space for yourself

For example:Today I couldn’t catch a break already stressed about exams, and in desperate need of rest. Just as I sat down to breathe, the calls and messages started.

One of my classmates began spamming me with messages, asking about a history and geography exam date that we ALL already knew. Then, another classmate began asking for English assignment answers. She wouldn’t stop. She kept sending, “Hi, hi, hi, hi…” over and over until I caved and responded.When I finally sent her the answers, her response? “Ahh, what would I do without you? You’re a lifesaver!” And while I know she meant it kindly, it felt so heavy I feel guilty. What about MY life? What about my peace?

In that moment, I realized how much I was giving to others and how little I was leaving for myself. I was pouring all my energy into helping everyone else while I was running on empty

And plus I’ve been in those moments when you’ve studied hard for an exam, thought you’re finally catching up, and then suddenly—a change happens. A test gets rescheduled, an assignment gets pushed to the last minute, and it feels like everything you worked for was just... wasted. I get it. And it’s okay to feel frustrated and angry about it. You’re allowed to feel this way. It doesn’t make you weak, it makes you human.

But here’s something I’ve been reminding myself lately: I am not responsible for everyone else's stress. It’s okay to say no, it’s okay to take a break, and it’s okay to not always have everything figured out. Taking care of yourself isn’t selfish; it’s necessary.

Here 5 Tips That Are Helping Me Cope with Stress and Burnout

1. Set Boundaries and Protect Your Energy: I’ve learned that it’s okay to say no. If someone’s asking for help, and you’re already feeling stretched thin, it’s okay to tell them, “I can’t right now.” You can’t pour from an empty cup, and you deserve your time and energy as much as anyone else does.

2. Don’t Overload Yourself—Take It One Step at a Time: Break your tasks into smaller, more manageable chunks. Don’t try to do everything at once—focus on one thing at a time. It makes the workload feel less daunting and more achievable. One task, one hour at a time.

3. Rest is Not a Luxury, It’s a Necessity: Sometimes we push ourselves too hard because we think we’ll get behind if we take a break. But if you don’t rest, you’ll burn out. Give yourself permission to step away, even for just 10 minutes. Watch a comforting youTube video, take a walk, or close your eyes. A little time for yourself can give you the energy to come back even stronger.

4. Talk About Your Feelings—Don't Bottle It Up: If you’re feeling overwhelmed, don’t keep it inside. Talk to someone, whether it’s a friendu trust family member, or even just writing in a journal like I do ..Putting your feelings into words can make a huge difference. It clears your mind and helps you see things from a new perspective.

5. Make Time for Self-Care: It’s easy to forget to take care of yourself when everything is going wrong. But self-care isn’t just about face masks and bubble baths (although that helps!). It’s about doing things that recharge you—reading, listening to music, or even just doing nothing. Find what makes you feel lighter and make time for it.

Let’s Take the Pressure Off Ourselves.

I know the world often tells us we have to be constantly productive, constantly moving forward. But the truth is, you don’t have to hustle all the time. It’s okay to slow down, take a breather, and focus on your well-being. The world will still be there when you're ready to take the next step. You are not a machine pookie. You are human, and you deserve peace.We’re not alone in this, even though it sometimes feels like we are. Everyone’s going through something, and sometimes just knowing that you’re not alone in your struggles can make a huge difference.Remember, it’s okay to not have it all together. It’s okay to be tired, to feel burnt out, to not always know what’s next. Life is hard, but you’re still here, still fighting, and that’s something to be proud of. I'm so proud of you

© bloomzone

[faithshouseofchaos]

Franco x male reader who absolutely can't stand microfibers and immediately pulls his hands away from franco's race suit (are those even made of microfibers?) Like its on fire, and fans just bash on reader cause what do you mean franco's boydriend doesnt give him hugs for doing good in races? And then franco just has to explain that reader severe revulsion to the texture of his race suit.

Pins and needles— Franco colapinto x reader

Word count- 974

Fluff/angst

Franco stood on the podium, grinning from ear to ear as the crowd erupted in applause. He had just secured a solid finish, and the adrenaline was still buzzing through his veins. As the celebration continued, his gaze swept over to where his boyfriend, the reader, stood on the other side of the barrier, waiting for him. There was a familiar glimmer in his eyes, a quiet pride, even though his posture seemed a little stiff.

When the crowd began to thin out, Franco made his way over, expecting the usual gesture of affection. But as he reached out, ready to pull the reader into a tight hug, something unexpected happened. The reader flinched, pulling their hands back as if they’d touched something scalding. It was almost imperceptible to anyone who wasn’t paying close attention, but Franco caught it immediately. The reader’s fingers twitched and curled into fists, clearly avoiding the material of his racing suit.

“Hey, what’s up?” Franco’s voice was soft, almost teasing. But there was a hint of concern that crept in, just enough to make the reader feel guilty.

The reader, already feeling the heat of the crowd’s gaze, hesitated, then muttered, “I… can’t… the suit.” Their voice trailed off, an apology forming on their lips but never quite reaching the surface.

Franco’s brow furrowed, realizing what was going on. He looked down at his fireproof race suit—Nomex, the synthetic aramid fiber that protected him from flames but also had a rough, uncomfortable texture. It was a fabric that he barely noticed anymore, but he knew that the reader had always had an intense, almost visceral reaction to it.

Before the silence could stretch too long, the inevitable happened. The whispers started—first quiet, then louder. Fans who had been watching closely began to exchange confused glances, talking amongst themselves.

“Did you see that? Franco’s boyfriend didn’t hug him…”

“Why is he pulling away like that?”

“Don’t they—? Are they okay?”

Franco felt a knot form in his stomach. He had never been one for the public eye, but this was different. This wasn’t about his performance on track; it was about something deeply personal. He could already feel the weight of judgment in the air.

The fan chatter grew louder, and with it, a tension began to build. Franco could feel eyes on him, on them—everyone was trying to figure out why the reader had pulled away. A few spectators started to mutter accusations, their voices tinged with disbelief.

“He’s cold, isn’t he? I knew it was all for show—what kind of boyfriend doesn’t even hug his man?”

“I bet Franco doesn’t even care. This is just for the cameras, right?”

The judgment stung, but Franco wasn’t going to let it affect him. He knew the truth. He looked up at the crowd, then back at the reader, and stepped forward. His voice was loud enough for those near him to hear, but gentle, trying to ease the tension.

“I know you’re all wondering why he didn’t give me a hug,” Franco said, his tone casual but firm. “And honestly, it’s not because he doesn’t want to. It’s because my suit—” he gestured down at the Nomex fabric “—it feels like sandpaper to him. It’s not just uncomfortable; it’s something that gets under his skin. Literally.” Franco laughed softly, hoping the humor would help diffuse the situation.

The reader stood there, frozen, the murmurs of the crowd crashing over them like a tidal wave. They had never been one to enjoy the spotlight, but right now, it felt suffocating. They could feel their face growing hot with shame. It wasn’t Franco’s fault, and yet, they couldn’t shake the feeling that they were letting him down.

Franco gave them a soft, understanding smile, stepping a little closer, as if to shield them from the growing crowd. “You don’t have to touch it, babe. But I still want to hold you.” His voice was low, just for the reader, a soothing comfort in the storm.

The reader, eyes downcast, took a slow, shaky breath. The last thing they wanted was to make Franco feel unloved or unsupported, especially after such a big moment. The worst part was that they knew everyone else was watching, judging their every move. But there was no escape from the sensation—the scratchiness of the Nomex, the feeling of the fibers pulling at their skin. It was like a physical revulsion they couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” the reader whispered, not loud enough for the fans to hear, but enough for Franco to catch.

Franco’s expression softened, and without hesitation, he reached out, gently guiding the reader into his arms. The moment was quiet, just the two of them, and he made sure to avoid any contact with the suit’s harsh material. The reader slipped into his embrace, not touching the Nomex, but still feeling the comfort of being held by him.

The murmurs from the crowd began to die down. Some fans now looked slightly embarrassed, realizing they had jumped to conclusions too quickly. Others were nodding, understanding now that it wasn’t a simple case of neglect, but a matter of texture—a very personal one.

“I’m not mad, you know,” Franco whispered into the reader’s ear, his hand lightly rubbing their back, a gesture of reassurance. “You don’t have to explain to anyone but me.”

The reader nodded, their chest tight but easing with every word Franco said. The warmth of his embrace, the safety he provided, drowned out the noise. The fans weren’t the issue here. It was about them, about understanding and patience.

As the moment stretched on, the world seemed to melt away. The judgment and whispers faded into the background, leaving just the two of them—Franco, who understood without question, and the reader, who had never felt more loved in a moment of vulnerability.

[topazy]

Tomorrow’s promise

Pairing: Daryl Dixon x reader

Warnings: Swearing

Chapter: 4.07

The more you got to know the people who saved you, the more you understood why they saved you. Abraham explained that he and Rosita are on a mission to get their companion doctor Eugene Porter to Washington, DC, safely because Eugene knew how to stop the virus and Abraham wanted you to join them. What they were doing was courageous, but you needed to find your family.

You look over at Glenn who was carrying Jace and nod appreciatively. You, him, and Tara were taking turns holding him to try and keep the strain off your shoulder.

The atmosphere is awkward as you walk in almost complete silence. Abraham and Glenn got into a physical fight because Abraham made a comment saying Maggie was most likely already dead, and the noise from the fight attracted a horde of walkers. While five of you fought, the walkers off Eugene tried to help, but the accident ended up shooting the army rank several times, causing it to stop working, which meant the only option now was to travel by foot.

Abraham slows his pace to walk beside you; he nods his head in the direction of Glenn. “He’s a persistent son of a bitch, I get while you’re following him.”

“I’m not following him just to help find Maggie. Our people were more than just someone to survive with; we are a family. My brother, nephew, and Daryl are still out there, along with the rest of our friends. Me and Glenn can’t stop looking for them.”

“Do you really think you’ll find them?”

You don’t answer his question. The last few days have been hectic, and you couldn’t allow yourself to think that you won’t ever find them.

Abraham changes the subject. “I didn’t have you down as a hunter, but damn those squirrels you caught last night went down a treat. Your father taught you to hunt?”

A small smile pulls on your lips. You found hunting extremely difficult morally, but when Daryl had his arms wrapped around you to show you what to do... It was the safest you’ve felt in a king town. “No, Daryl taught me to hunt skin and gut animals, so you can thank him when we find him. I used to be vegan before the world went to shit.”

He laughs, “Well, those days are long now.”

Abraham was right; you ate whatever was possible now.

You make polite small talk and learn more about the mission until Tara starts laughing. “I can’t believe I still have this,” she pulls a wallet out of her jacket pocket. She chuckles to herself while opening it up, “Three dollars and an expired voucher for grocery shopping.”

“Never know, it could go up on a museum wall one day.”

Her smile fades when she pulls a Polaroid photo out of one of the slips. Tara goes to say something, but her breathing becomes shaky. “I never saw her after... I kept thinking she might have ended up like my sister, or she’s alone and hurt, or…”

Glenn gives her a sympathetic look. “Who is she?”

“My girlfriend Alisha... I think I saw her body at the prison, but the more I think about it, the more I’m unsure if it was her.”

You understood how awful not knowing where everyone was felt. With the attention of somehow trying to comfort her, you walk closer but come to an abrupt halt when you see the picture she’s holding. You feel warm, a painful knot forming in your stomach. Tara’s girlfriend was the woman who put Hershel on his knees; she was the woman you shot and killed at the prison.

—

When night falls, you take turns keeping watch, and right now it was currently your turn. Abraham picked a spot that was surrounded by thick trees and bushes, keeping you out of view of anyone who may walk by the train tracks. You had bundled Jace up in a T-shirt and your jacket to keep him warm. Your back was pressed against a tree so you could securely place him between your legs.

You let out a deep sigh. Rosita, Eugene, and Abraham had all fallen asleep while Tara and Glenn spoke quietly. Finding the picture earlier had really upset the brunette, and you felt so guilty that she was continuing to torture herself by imagining all the different things that could have happened to Alisha. If it was someone you cared about, you’d want to know the truth.

“Tara, I need to tell you something. I... I, Alisha, she's gone. She’s dead.”

The look in her eyes, she knew. She knew it was you before you'd even told her. “How would you know that?”

“I killed her.”

Tara blinks away her tears, then shoots you a death glare. “You killed my girlfriend?”

“I didn’t know who she was, not until I saw the photo earlier.”

“So you just killed someone and didn’t think about them again?” Tara scoffs; she shakes her head and looks away from you. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Hershel was a good man. He was a stranger who saved my nephew's life. He let us into his home. Your girlfriend dragged Hershel, an old man with one fucking leg, from the back of a car and forced him to kneel on the ground to be slaughtered by that sociopath in front of his own daughters!” Your vision becomes blurry with tears. “When I came face to face with her, I didn’t think twice about killing her, and no, I didn’t think about her again, not until I knew who she was. I’ve only told you so that you wouldn’t spend the rest of your life wondering what happened to her.”

She takes a moment to process everything you’ve just said. “If you could, would you have done things differently?”

“I found my baby alive next to the body of a boy who had been shot in the chest. Some asshole who attacked us in our own home put a goddamn bullet in a child and then continued to attack my people.” Using the sleeve of your jacket, you wipe at your eyes and nose. “I don’t know who killed him, but I don’t regret doing everything I could to stop my son from being one of those kids.”

Silence falls over the camp; nobody dares say anything. Tara walks off, and Glenn follows her. Feeling eyes on you, you turn your head to see Rosita, Abraham, and Eugene staring at you.

—

The next morning, everyone remains quiet as a mouse as you continue to follow the trail tracks. The only real noise was Jace babbling while you tried to get him to say mom or mommy. You decided it was best if you hanged back from the others, just close enough that you wouldn’t fall behind.

Glenn looks and observes you for a moment before slowing his pace to match yours. “Can I ask you something? It’s about Jace.”

“Sure.”

“Did Hershel ever check his ears out?”

“He did," you didn’t like thinking about it. “Hershel thought Jace’s eardrums got damaged from being exposed to so many gunshots and explosions when he was first born, but it’s hard to know for sure. He thinks his right side is more damaged than the left.”

Glenn’s brows pull together with confusion. “How’s that possible?”

“Maybe a gun went off on his right side... I should have done more to—“

“Don’t,” Glenn cuts you off. “Everything you do is for him.”

—

You can’t help but smile proudly at Jace; hearing him say mom filled your heart with so much warmth. You kiss his cheeks multiple times and say, “I’m so proud of you, little man.”

Daryl and Rick would be so proud.

You look from Jace to see what was in front of you, and you gasp in surprise. There was a wooden post with a map pinned to it, leading the way to a location called Terminus.

“Holy shit,” the map had a message written on mud left on it. “Glenn, Glenn. It’s a message from Maggie. Her, Bob and Sasha are alive.”

“Oh my god!” He comes up to look for himself and notices you are crying; he kisses you on the cheek. “If they are alive, then so will the rest of our people.”

Tears of happiness brim in your eyes; all you needed to do now was make it to Terminus.

[ianwaite]

He went laughing - not quietly - with the aurors.

I understood the scene differently:

Sirius flew to the Potters on his motorbike, and Hagrid wondered about it and couldn't quite explain why. Hagrid had fetched Harry from the rubble and Sirius had asked him to take his godson with him. However, Hagrid had strict instructions from Dumbledore to take Harry to the Dursleys. The description Hagrid gives of Sirius is that of a shocked man. He wondered why Sirius' gave him his precious motorbike... The description of Fudge and Stanley (the conductor of the Knight Bus) also fits. A laughing Sirius who can't believe what he's seen and experienced, and who seems downright mad. Fudge's description and the photos in the Daily Prophet support the impression of a physically dead (vampire-like) but mentally agile Sirius.

Hagrid's description:

Fudge's description:

Stanley's description:

He was so shocked that his plan (He had suggested Peter as the secret keeper! Because he thought nobody would believe that the weak Peter had been given this position) backfired! Peter had already been a double agent for a year at that point and had 'revealed' his secret just a week after the Fidelius Charm.

So, he helped to bring about the Potters' deaths - who wouldn't laugh at that - he felt guilty and realised that he had misjudged Peter.

Heartbreak is knowing he went quietly with the ministry officials who took him straight to Azkaban, because

who would ever believe a story like that?

[oodlyenough]

continuing my arcane s2 ted talks i guess, i've been trying to decipher how i feel about the medardas' plotline in s2 and i never really land anywhere but a sort of disgruntled marge simpson groan.

i think anyone who paid any attention at the end of s1 or spent even ten seconds theorizing probably knew mel was a mage and her shield magic would protect some or all of the council. i was surprised this reveal didn't happen right away, and i liked that initially we see an overhead shot showing her totally-undamaged bubble around her seat. i could roll with jayce wondering why he survived and mel sort of shrugging it off. the black rose stuff in act 1 i also found intriuging and the action scene with amara was cool. i was excited that kino would be more relevant

but then act 2 ... it felt like we put mel in the torture labyrinth only to draw two conclusions, the first being that she's a mage (no duh; we could've revealed it in the first episode) and the second being that she's a bastard child from a secret love affair her mom had. and then we uh. didn't really explore that second part at all. we learn, sort of, that her mom has some beef with the black rose; if you don't play League you have no idea who or what they are; they claim Ambessa let Kino die and only wants Mel as a weapon; when confronted Ambessa only half-answers and seems to disdain mages; Ambessa ends up fighting Mel, gets killed by Mel's double bluff, and then Mel takes over the Medarda clan for... some reason (does she want to? does she HAVE to?)

mostly it ends up feeling like a backdoor pilot for a future noxus spinoff. and a future noxus spinoff starring mel isn't a bad idea; it's just that it feels like a lot of screentime in an already-frantic final season for arcane was then spent on a plotline that doesn't really resolve.

also in season one i thought mel and ambessa's relationship was very interesting and i looked forward to more of it. i thought the idea of ambessa sending mel away because mel's big puppy eyes made her feel guilty for doing what she felt she had to do, and mel feeling that as a rejection/banishment/lack of love fit nicely into the general themes of s1. i... just don't really know how the secret mel magic that ambessa hates and/or covets (unclear) adds to that rather than weakening it. their two conflicting worldviews alone set them up nicely to butt heads in season 2, especially with caitlyn potentially stuck in the middle, torn between both of their guidances and philosophies. instead it's like mel mostly inhabited a different show for most of her screentime.

i'm also not super convinced ambessa was written with the same level of sympathy characters like silco got in season 1. it certainly seems to me she gets less of that from fandom, anyway, who treat her like a uniquely evil character even for a major antagonist. it's hard for us to understand her motives when we don't really know what they ARE, the origin of her black rose feud, who tf the rose are to begin with, the true circumstances around kino's death and mel's banishment, etc... if this is all the unofficial pilot for a Noxus spinoff it might as well have just waited until then and let us use this screentime to expand on the other things in s2 that needed to be expanded/wrapped up in their final season.

[sockatoothewafflebird]

u prolly have already but pls i want in depth yap abt caitvi in arc3 and how they heal :)

oh anon i have NOT yapped about how they heal. not in detail at least. so here we go. there's not a lot that hasn't been said about them, but i'd like to put my perspective into the ring just because. as an eldest sister and as a lesbian i can relate to vi in a lot of ways.

i think my main takeaway for caitvi in act 3 is how they're both human, in the ways they love and in the ways they fight. arcane is a show that respects its audience and trusts us to be able to read between the lines and i appreciate how you can see every little detail of the words they're not saying if you look close enough.

in The Scene especially you can see just how real theyre being... im not gonna dwell on it, but by the skin of my teeth and the bones in my knees they LOVE each other. you can see it so clearly.

caitlyn walks in on vi questioning everything she is. violet legit just let her sister slip from her fingers, again. i cannot tell you how many times i've felt guilty when my sister or brother are hurt or do something wrong, even if i had no part in it. i cannot imagine how much it would hurt to lose them and keep going only because of the possibility of finding them again, and then when i finally do find then they're ripped from my arms. and it happens more than once. i would be in the same place vi is. blaming herself for all of it. making the burden of protecting her sister all hers and no one else's. wondering whether or not she's doing the right thing at all. (cough coughh petra minecraft is that you)

as stressful as they can be sometimes they're my siblings and i'd do anytning for them. and with the kind of person vi is, for her that means punching whoever's in the way. doing whatever she can. she has a big heart and she's never lost it.

after caitlyn basically dumped her in the most entitled way possible vi had nothing left. no one to protect and nothing to fight for. so she fought just for the sake of fighting. after getting her family back and losing them again (holy ballsockets she was put through the wringer) all she had was cait even if cait hurt her. i think even if cait never did anytbing to make it up to her, she would have stayed, because vi needs an anchor.

caitlyn's hurt a lot of people directly or indirectly. she grew up priveleged and stayed that way, never truly seeing exactly how much pain people are going through until it's too late to turn back. caitlyn's arc is a very interesting one because she never says the words "i'm sorry". she never tells vi that what she did was wrong and that she wants to fix it. but she does things that prove her remorse.

caitlyn works with vi in the end of act 2. i think this is partially because she was already skeptical of ambessa from the start, and partially because she wanted to find a way to make it up to her. caitlyn doesn't fold as soon as vi calls her cupcake, that's not what the look is. The Look is her thinking, "wait, does she not hate me? why did she call me her term of endearment even after everything i've done?"

in act 3, caitlyn takes all the guards out of the prison, because she knew vi would try to rescue her sister. in the words of another post i forgot to save (deepest apologies to the op of that one), vi could have taken jinx and ran. caitlyn might have never seen her again and she let that happen anyway. and cait even went to the cell to check to see if her theory was true, and lo and behold it was. and vi failed at trying to save her sister. again.

what does caitlyn do? she tells vi that she relieved the prison of the guards because of her. all confident and sultry and commanding like she knows what she's doing.

and then when they're getting into it caitlyn frantically pulls away. she realizes that, yeah, she still needs to make things right. she tries to be honest, tell vi that she saw someone else, and vi just reassures her and keeps going. i think thisnis because 1) vi wants the cupcake, who wouldn't, and 2) she's... not exactly forgiving, that needs more work- but she's showing her appreciation for caitlyn here. caitlyn did something huge for her, she let her break a prisoner out which could have dire consequences for both of them.

i think vi just absolutely smothering cait is also a way to show that even though cait hurt her physically as well as emotionally, she's gone past that. if vi hadn't at least given some thought about cait's actions she would not let this happen, i don't think, unless she's super desperate. this proves that vi is starting to move on and cait is starting to revert back to that sputtering stuttering pinned-to-a-wall-flustered woman she was in season one- that's the woman vi fell in love with, after all... and that woman is battered and bruised and has plenty of sins to stone for. but that woman is not dead.

The Scene in the cell is both them being desperate and them showing their love for each other without words. caitlyn's hand lingers on vi's injury, maybe about to utter an apology, but vi cuts her off anyway. there's SO many little things here gaughehgjf.

and in the end of the show, when caitlyn looks into the hexgates in her family's archives, she looks because vi probably asked her to. vi wanted to be sure. she looked because she cares about vi. whether or not she'll tell vi about this is an interesting thought- i don't think she would. it would undermine jinx's sacrifice.

jinx walked away so she could move on. so piltover could move on. so zaun could move on. so vi could move on. and caitlyn telling vi that she's alive would ruin the steps they've taken towards healing.

i think vi's main problem was dedicating her life to her sister and nothing else. and caitlyn's was just her exploiting a broken system and mever recognizing her faults. vi starts to heal because now that her sister is truly gone to her, she can move away from the past and build her own future. and now that caitlyn's fully realized her mistakes she can take steps towards changing piltover for the better. GAHH i love complicated sapphics especially when there's sapphic joy after all the suffering....

this was all written in one sitting so apologies if it's messy, and i've sort of compiled some other ideas and theories i've seen in here too; but yeah, these are my thoughts on caitvi in season 2. i think they could've been fleshed out a bit more, but overall their relationship is legendary. i'll never stop loving them. caitvi supremacy people 💪

[sorinethemastermind]

 Sorvus Week 2024 | Prompt: Camp (No Warnings Apply)

   Soren didn’t get why he had to watch Callum. It was a few weeks out in the woods, and there would be other people to look after the prince (step-prince, Soren added sullenly). What was the worst that could happen? Plus, camp was his thing. He’d been looking forward to it all year. 

 Thinking back to the previous summer, he could still remember the sense of satisfaction he’d felt after beating one of the older boys in a sparring match. All the kids in his year had cheered, and afterwards one of the instructors had come up and said that he was proud of him. This was Soren’s thing. This was what he was good at. The one thing he was good at. 

 Why couldn’t his Dad see that?

 But Viren had asked him to watch Callum. Well, sort of. He’d told King Harrow that he would keep an eye on the young prince, and Soren had been there, so it was sort of like asking because he could have said no. Except he didn’t, because if his Dad needed him to do it, then of course he would.

 Just think of it like Crownguard training, Soren thought, hoisting his pack up a little higher as he led Callum down the trail towards camp. It’ll be good practice. 

 It wasn’t like the young prince seemed especially thrilled about it either. He wasn’t really the outdoorsy type. Which was being plainly illustrated by the fact that he was daintily making his way around the muddle puddle that blocked their path. Soren just stomped on through, enjoying the little waves that his steps kicked up. He wasn’t as big a fan of his soggy socks afterwards, but that couldn’t have been avoided. 

 “Soren, wait up!” Callum called, struggling to keep pace with his longer strides. Sometimes Soren forgot how small the other boy still was. He stopped for a moment to let his shorter legged companion catch up before forging ahead again.

 “Are we almost there?” Callum asked after a moment, still a few steps behind.

 “We’ve only been walking for like, five minutes." Soren pointed out. “Anyway, you’re the one who made us take that fancy carriage instead of just arriving with the rest of the kids.”

 “King Harrow wanted us to take the carriage.” The other boy corrected him.

 “Yeah, so you wouldn’t have to do the hike.”

 Yet another thing I won’t be doing this year because of stubby legs back there, Soren added in his mind.

 “And yet.” Callum managed, words coming in between huffing breaths. “It feels like we’re hiking right now.”

 “This is the shortest way I know.” Soren told him. Which was mostly true. Technically it was the second shortest way that he knew up the mountain, but Callum didn’t need to know that. It would only make him complain more.

 “Just… how long do you think it’ll be?”

 Soren turned to face the other boy, opening his mouth to say something about how it wouldn’t be taking this long if he would just hurry up - but Callum had his hands on his knees, cheeks puffing out with every breath.

 “Hand me your pack.” Soren said instead, holding out a hand. 

 “What?”

 “Your pack. I’ll carry it.”

 “But you’re already carrying one-”

 “I can manage.”

 Callum handed over the heavy bundle of camping equipment and Soren shouldered it alongside his own. 

 “Thanks, Soren.”

 He only felt a little guilty at Callum’s grateful smile.

 “Yeah, well, come on. Try and keep up.” he forged on ahead, Callum still trailing a few steps behind, but at least seeming less likely to topple backwards. 

 It was a solid twenty more minutes before they arrived at the camp. The sun was beginning to set as they trudged into the clearing that had been chosen for this year’s gathering, most of the other boys already having gathered to huddle around the great fire pit at it’s center. Soren started to make his way towards them, but was instead nearly swept over by the sudden flurry of activity that sprang to life around Callum.

 There must have been at least four attendants, brushing quickly past Soren to hover around the prince, offering clean clothes and refreshments. Soren wrinkled his nose, dropping Callum’s bag to the ground at his feet. One of his helpers would be able to find it, surely. None of them so much as gave him a second glance. 

 Stalking past the fire pit and the other campers, Soren found a spot at the edge of the forest and began erecting his tent. Nobody offered to help, he noticed. Though somebody was building Callum’s for him. Soren’s frown deepened and he hit the tent peg he was hammering with a little too much force, nearly splitting it. 

 “Drat.” he muttered under his breath, being more careful with his next strike. The familiar repetition of the process helped, and by the end of it, he was pretty sure he’d never been frustrated in the first place. Pretty sure.

 Still, he didn't really feel like joining the other boys for campfire stories, so instead crawled into his little shelter as soon as he’d finished setting it up. He stared at the ceiling, willing himself to sleep and listening to the quiet murmur of voices outside.

 “I heard the prince-”

 Soren rolled over, facing his back towards the fire and the assembled voices. But it didn’t stop them from drifting into the tent.

 “Do you think the prince-”

 He clapped his hands to his ears. What was so great about Callum, anyway? He hadn’t done anything special, hadn’t earned any of this attention. His Mom just married the King, and that was enough. He wasn’t even a real prince, Soren thought, bitterly. He was a step-prince.

 Eventually the voices outside quieted, along with Soren’s mind, and his eyes drifted closed. Callum isn’t going to ruin camp. He thought to himself, distantly. It’ll be just like last year. I’ll just need to do something bigger, work harder. It’ll be just like last year.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 Something was scratching at the entrance of Callum’s tent. It had been for the last few minutes, snuffling around the edge. He could hear it through the walls.

 It’s probably a Banther, Callum thought, tucking his knees to his chest. It’s a Banther and it’s going to eat me.

 He didn’t know why King Harrow had made him come here. Was he really that much of a nuisance that he had to send him away for weeks, out to the middle of nowhere, with no one but Soren to help him? And where was Soren, anyway? Harrow had said that the older boy would be keeping an eye on him, and that had made Callum feel a bit better about the entire thing. But as soon as they’d arrived he’d vanished.

 The creature snuffled again, it’s shadow moving on the other side of the thin fabric of the tent. Callum was vividly aware of how fragile it was. Of how fragile he was. Will King Harrow care if I get eaten by a Banther?

 Don’t be silly, he amended. Of course he would care if I got eaten by a Banther. However, that won’t stop me from getting eaten by one.

 The snuffling thing pushed at the edge of the tent flap, and Callum scooted further away, gripping his satchel tightly and holding it out before him like a shield.

 “S- Stay back.” he managed. “I’m a very dangerous mage, and i- if you come in here, I’ll zap you!”

 Unfortunately the snuffling thing didn’t appear to speak Katolian. It stuck it’s head through the flap, and at the site of it’s intruding snout, Callum panicked; throwing his satchel at it with as much force as he could muster. But all he managed to do was blow the entrance to the tent open wider, revealing the form of his raccoon tormenter outside.

 “Ah!” Callum let out an involuntary scream, clapping his hands to his mouth and muffling the sound as much as he could. The last thing he wanted was to return home with all the other boys talking about how he was scared of a rodent. A rather large rodent, but still.

 The thing had scampered back when he threw his bag, but now crept forward again, pushing it with it’s nose. Callum reached tentatively towards the satchel’s strap, but the raccoon’s beady eyes flashed as it looked up at him, and he snatched his hand back. 

 “Shoo.” he whispered, kicking a foot in it’s direction. Not close enough to do anything, though. He pulled his leg back the moment it moved.

 It sniffed at his satchel again, and he realized belatedly that one of the attendants back at the castle had packed a few jelly tarts in it. For the road, she’d said. Callum waited for the raccoon to dig them out, figuring it would take them and leave. But instead it grabbed the satchel’s strap in it’s teeth and began dragging the entire thing away towards the woods.

 “Wait, no! Give that back!” he scrambled out of his tent and ran after it a few steps into the dark. But he was tentative, and it knew where it was going. All he saw was it’s busy tail vanishing into the pitch black of the treeline, carrying his satchel - and sketchbook, he realized with horror - with it. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 “Soren.”

 Soren rolled over, blearily flapping a hand in the direction of the voice, trying to ward it off. “I’m sleeping.” he murmured.

 “But you just talked, so clearly you’re not asleep.” the voice pointed out, making it painfully clear who it belonged to.

 Soren stifled a yawn, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes. “Well I was before you woke me up.”

 He opened his eyes, taking a moment to let them adjust to the dark. Callum was couched in the open entrance to his tent. The younger boy looked on the verge of tears. Instantly Soren sat up straighter, grabbing the wooden practice sword form where it always lay beside his bedroll.

 “What is it? Are you okay?”

 “Th- There was a raccoon and-”

 Soren groaned, dropping the weapon. “A raccoon? You woke me up cause of a raccoon?”

 Callum sniffed. “It took my sketchbook.”

 “So get a new sketchbook.” Soren offered.

 “It- It was a present from King Harrow. And it’s got…” Callum trailed off for a moment, then swallowed. His voice was quieter when he continued. “It’s got all the stuff I drew of my Mom.”

 Soren glanced away, feeling a pang of something in his own chest . He took a deep breath, then sighed.

 “Alright, let’s go get your stupid book.”

 The other boy’s eyes widened. “Really?”

 “Yeah.” Soren grabbed his sword from where he’d dropped it, bringing it with him as he crawled out of the tent. “I did promise both our Dads I would keep an eye on you. Your stuff was probably included in that, too.”

 “Thanks, Soren.”

 “Yeah, sure.” He stood up, surveying the darkened camp. “Do you know which way it went?”

 Callum pointed off into the trees, and Soren rolled his shoulders. 

 “Alright, stay right behind me. Got it? There are Banthers in these woods.”

 Callum swallowed. “Uh huh.”

 “Let’s go.” Soren laid the sword across one of his shoulders, marching into the darkness. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 Check. Check. Che-

 Corvus stopped outside the next tent on his list. The flap wasn’t secured properly. He shook his head. Who was this supposed to be again? Oh yeah, the High Mage’s son. Probably doesn’t spend much time out in the elements. I’ll just show him how to do it.

 He crouched down, lifting the flap up and peering inside. But his instructions died on his lips. It was empty. Corvus stood quickly, glancing around. This was bad. Really bad. He couldn’t lose the High Mage’s son, not his first year of being an assistant councilor. 

 “Hello? High Mage’s son?” he called in a low whisper over the camp. 

 He probably just had to use the bathroom, Corvus though, logically. I’ll just wait for him here.

 But when the other boy hadn’t returned to his tent after ten minutes, he began to worry. Corvus glanced around nervously. He hadn’t heard any sort of commotion, but that didn’t make it much better. For all he knew the boy had just wandered off and gotten lost. And either way it had happened on his watch. 

 Corvus checked the rest of the tents quickly, keeping an eye out for anyone who could be the High Mage’s son. But that ended up being only the first of his problems when he found the prince’s tent was also empty.

 Now that is too much to be a coincidence, he thought. They must have gone off together.

 Scanning the ground for footprints, he caught sight of a small set leading from the prince’s tent and across the clearing. Following them, he discovered that his hunch had been right; they led directly to the other empty one. 

 So if I find the prince, I find them both. He thought, carefully picking out the smaller tread from the mess of footprints that filled the camp. They led him to the edge of the forest and into it, disappearing into the dark. With a sigh, Corvus followed them into the night. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 “Hey, uh, Soren? How do you know where we’re going?” Callum asked, picking his way carefully along behind the older boy.

 Soren pointed at the ground. “Your bag left drag marks.”

 “Oh. Cool. Coooolll.” Callum said. “And, uh, Soren?”

 “Yeah?”

 “How are we going to get back?”

 “We’ll follow our footprints.”

 “Yeah, but like, what if it’s too dark to see them?”

 “We’ve got the moon.” Soren said, pointing at the sky, eyes still trained on the ground.

 “Okay. Cool. Coooll-”

 “What?” Soren turned to face the prince. He was right, it was dark. He could hardly see Callum in the shadows. 

 “Just, uh, we’re pretty far from camp.”

 “Do you want your stuff back or not?” Soren asked. 

 “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

 “Well then, come on. I’m not going to get us lost.”

 “Okay.” Callum had taken the moment of pause to catch up, and fell into step beside Soren as they continued on. After a moment, he cleared his throat. 

 “It’s really cool how you can do all this stuff.”

 Soren glanced at him out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah, well, I am pretty cool.”

 “I wish I could do this sort of thing.” Callum sighed. “But I always mess it up.”

 “You’re probably good at other stuff.”

 “Nobody cares about other stuff.” Callum huffed. “Princes don’t need to be good at drawing, or at… at… I don’t even know! They need to be good at riding horses, and slaying dragons, and making decisions! And I’m not good at any of that stuff.”

 “Do you really need to be? You’re only the step-prince.”

 Callum sighed. “Yeah. I guess so.”

 He looked so downcast that Soren felt a little bad. He clapped the other boy on the shoulder. “Er, maybe you can use your drawings and like… make maps or something. That sounds pretty prince-y.”

 “Yeah. Maybe.” Callum didn’t seem convinced, eyes still fixed on his shoes. 

 Soren cleared his throat, fiddling awkwardly with the worn leather handle of his training sword. “You know, there are a lot of things I’m not good at either. Like… smarts stuff. So I just got good at hitting things instead.”

 He hefted the blade, swinging it before him. “Don’t need to talk to something if it’s already defeated!” 

 Soren shot Callum a hopeful glance, but the other boy didn’t laugh.

 He scratched the back of his head, returning the sword to his shoulder. “What I’m saying is, maybe you just haven’t found the thing you’re good at yet.”

 “Even if I do, it’s not gonna matter. It won’t change anything.” Callum huffed. “You’re right. I’m the step-prince. Being good at stuff isn’t gonna change that.”

 “That’s not what I meant.”

 “Then what did you mean?” Callum asked, shooting him a glare before quickly glancing away.

 “I- uhm.” Soren tried to find the right words, but it was all so muddled it was hard to explain. He scanned the trees, as though they would offer him a way out of it.

 And they did.

 “Hey, look!” he pointed at a nearby pine, drawing Callum’s attention up and into it’s branches. “That’s your bag, right?”

 “Yeah! Yeah, it is!” the prince ran over to the tree, reaching for the lowest branch. His fingers barely grazed it and he pushed himself up onto his toes, trying to reach it. 

 “Come… on!” he groaned. “I can’t do it.”

 “Step back.” Soren leaned his sword against a nearby trunk and walked over, cracking his knuckles (or trying to). “Let me handle this.”

 Callum scrambled back, staring at him as Soren leapt up as high as he could, catching the bottom most branch. His arms strained as he tried to heave himself up, but he managed to get up and over, straddling the branch while he tried to pick out which one to aim for next.

 “Soren, it’s really high.” Callum cautioned from below.

 “Chill out. I’ve done this before.”

 Soren braced himself against the rough bark of the tree’s trunk, feeling it scratch at his hands as he pulled himself upright to stand on the branch. Callum was just a vague shape in the shadows below, pacing back and forth nervously. 

 Soren carefully took his hand back from the tree, balancing as best he could, and grabbed the branch above him. Some of the bark came away on his hands as he heaved himself up and over again, steadily making his way closer to where the satchel hung a few limbs above. He repeated the process, slowly gaining height, until he was on level with the satchel. It’s strap was stuck on the branch above him, wedged between too smaller offshoots. 

 “Look, I’ve nearly got it!” Soren called to Callum, looking down. Which was probably a mistake, as he realized just how high he was. Soren swallowed, feeling his balance shift, and wrapped his arms around the trunk of the tree. 

 “Soren! How are you going to get down?”

 “Um. You let me worry about that!” Soren said with a lot of false bravado.

 “Did you get my bag yet?”

 “Working on it!” Soren slowly released his grip on the tree’s trunk, beginning to make his way carefully along the length of the branch, hands reaching out for the bag. The wood creaked below his feet and he swallowed hard. 

 “Soren! What was that?”

 “Nothing!” he called down to Callum. “It was nothing!”

 “Soren, is the branch breaking?”

 “No! Definitely not! That is definitely not what’s happening!”

 It creaked again, even louder this time, and Soren felt his foot slip as it branch groaned and heaved beneath his weight. He grabbed quickly onto the branch above until it steadied again.

 Just then a second, newer voice joined Callum’s. 

 “Prince Callum! I’m so glad I found you. Are you alone?”

 Soren didn’t know the new voice, and he couldn’t make out much of what was happening below through the darkness. The moon seemed to have abandoned them at some point during his climb, leaving everything in even deeper shadow.

 “Stupid moon.” Soren muttered to himself. “I hate the moon.”

 “Uhm, hello.” Callum was saying to the newcomer. Soren tried to listen even as he continued making his way closer to the end of the branch, his footfalls becoming slower and less sure the further out he went from the center of the tree. “And no, I’m just waiting for Soren.”

 “Soren?”

 “He’s in the tree.”

 “Oh. And why would he ever do that?”

 “You see, it’s a funny story actually-”

 Soren’s foot slipped, and he let out a small gasp of fear as he barely managed to steady himself on a nearby branch. Callum’s voice cut off at the noise, and suddenly the only sound was that of the wind rusting the pine’s needles and the bough under Soren’s feet groaning.

 “I’m sure it’s very funny, but perhaps you can tell me later.” The newcomer said after a moment. Then he called up into the tree; “Why don’t you come down now! Before you get hurt!”

 “I’ve got it all under control!” Soren called back. Which was kind of true. He was almost far enough out to be able to reach the bag. And he’d probably be able to figure out next steps from there.

 “I sort of doubt that you do!” the voice came again. “So please, just come down here and-”

 Soren took another step, and the branch gave it’s loudest complaint yet. He felt it shift under his feet, dipping downward. More, and then more, and then- 

 SNAP!

 Soren lunged forward as the branch broke, hands barely managing to grip onto the edge of Callum’s satchel before everything plunged downward.

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 Corvus was fairly sure that the kid in the tree was either the bravest - or more likely stupidest - person he had ever met. And he was going to get them all into a lot of trouble.

 “-just come down here and-”

 He was interrupted by a horrible snapping sound, and one of the tree’s higher branches - which he presumed the boy must have been on - broke away from the tree and plummeted towards the ground. Corvus grabbed the prince by the shoulders and pulled him out of the way, just barely managing to save them both from being squashed.

 No movement came from within the needled branches of the broken tree limb, and no scream of fear or pain had sounded as it plunged to the earth. Corvus crept forward, fearing the worst, but there was no boy to be found among the fronds and broken twigs. He glanced up at the tree, just barely making out the form of someone still above them, swaying gently back and forth. 

 Oh thank the Saints, Corvus thought. He caught himself.

 “Hey, Callum! I got your bag!” the idiot - Soren - called from above. Corvus faintly saw him wave a hand through the darkness. “I just, uh, don’t know how to get it down to you!”

 “Can’t you climb?” the prince asked, stepping up beside Corvus and staring into the foliage alongside him. 

 “Uhm, that would sort of require me to be able to reach the tree. Which I… can’t really do right now.”

 “What do you-” Callum’s eyes widened, and Corvus realized at the same moment he did what had occurred. “You’re hanging from my satchel?”

 “On the plus side, it seems to be very nice quality.” Soren informed them. 

 Definitely the stupidest, Corvus thought, shaking his head. Though that is it’s own kind of bravery.

 “Actually, uh, Callum.” Soren’s voice came again. “How much weight would you say this thing usually carries?”

 “I don’t know.” the prince tapped his chin. “Maybe like, three books worth?”

 “Well, uh, I think I weigh more than three books then.”

 “What’s happening?” Corvus asked anxiously, stepping forward. Not that he would be able to do anything if he fell. Could he catch him? Would that work?

 “You might want to step back.” Soren said by way of explanation.

 Callum stumbled quickly away, but Corvus scanned the ground furiously, trying to find anything that could break the other boy’s fall. Nothing. There was-

 “Timber!” Soren called, his voice betraying fear.

 Out of options, Corvus held out his arms and closed his eyes.

 It didn’t do very much good. Soren landed on him, sending them both sprawling into the dirt. Corvus spat out a few pine needles, wincing at a twinge of pain in his left wrist. 

 “Ow.” the other boy groaned, rolling off of Corvus and onto the ground. From there he held the satchel up, not moving from the dirt. “I got your thing, princeling.”

 Callum rushed forward, grabbing it and helping to pull first Soren to his feet, then Corvus.

 “I can’t believe you got it!” he gushed.

 Soren shook a few stray pine needles from his hair. There were a few tears in his clothes from where it’d gotten snagged on branches on the way down and Corvus was sure he’d have more than a few bruises later on, but he seemed otherwise unharmed. “Yeah, well, it’s not in uhh… exactly the same condition as before but-”

 Callum was already opening it, dumping the bag’s contents on the ground. He grabbed a book from among the other scattered items, rifling through the pages. He let out a relieved sigh. “It’s fine. My sketchbook is fine.”

 “You did all of this… for a book?” Corvus asked, glancing between them.

 Soren shrugged. “What can I say, he really likes his book.”

 Corvus shook his head, confused and a little bemused. “Well your adventure ends now. I’m taking both of you back to camp.”

 Callum quickly packed the rest of his things back into the now rather battered satchel and the pair of them allowed Corvus to lead them back the way they had come. 

⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ ⠂⠄⠄⠂☆

 Soren practically flopped onto the ground as soon as they got back to camp. The older boy - Corvus - had gone off to get a medical kit (Soren didn’t know why, he was mostly fine) and left him and Callum alone by what remained of the fire. 

 The young prince was already sketching again, doodling something in his newly rescued spellbook. Soren heaved himself up off the ground and went over to sit beside him, glancing at the page. He was surprised to find his own likeness staring back at him.

 “You’re drawing… me?”

 Callum’s tongue was sticking out of the corner of his mouth in concentration, and he nodded. Soren watched, transfixed, as the younger boy drew not just him but the tree, raccoon, and satchel as well. The entire escapade came to life under his pencil. Even Corvus and Callum himself made an appearance.

 “You’re really good at that.” Soren told him as he was finishing up. 

 “Like it matters.” he let the book fall closed, tucking it and his pencil back into his bag.

 “I’m, uh, sorry about what I said before.”

 Callum just grabbed a nearby stick, poking sullenly at the last few embers that remained in the firepit before them. “Why? You were right.”

 “No. I was just… I don’t know.” Soren gazed up through the trees and out at the stars. They were really pretty, out here in the woods. “I guess I was jealous.”

 “Soren, you just tracked a raccoon through the woods, climbed a tree, and retrieved my satchel. And I just… watched. What do you have to be jealous of?”

 “I always have to do stuff like that!” Soren explained. “Just to get noticed. And then you get to like… walk into camp and instantly everybody wants to fawn over you and gives you all the attention you could ever have wanted and-”

 “But I don’t want it.” Callum interjected.

 Soren blinked at him, surprised. “Why not?”

 The prince squirmed a little. “It feels weird. Like they’re not paying attention to me, they’re paying attention to what I’m supposed to be. They only care cause I’m the prince, and like you said, I’m not even really that.”

 “I guess that doesn’t sound especially… fun.”

 “Yeah.” Callum agreed. “Not especially.”

 “Well, for what it’s worth, I think your drawings are really cool. And I’m not just saying that cause you’re the prince.”

 A small smile tugged at the corner of Callum’s mouth. “Thanks.”

 He seemed to be deciding something for a moment, and then pulled his sketchbook out again, leafing through until he found the illustration he’d done of Soren and the tree. He carefully ripped it out of the book and held it out to Soren. 

 “Here, I want you to have it.”

 “Really?”

 “Yeah.”

 “...thanks.” Soren took it gingerly, staring at it for a moment before folding it up neatly and tucking it into his pocket. “I can’t wait to tell my Dad.”

 “That you fell out of a tree?”

 “Well, maybe not that part.”

 Callum laughed, and Soren grinned at him. 

 “What’s so funny?” Corvus asked, returning with the med kit tucked under one arm. 

 “Just Dad stuff.” Soren explained.

 “Hm. Alright. Well, let me see your leg.”

 “It’s fine, Corvus.” Soren groaned.

 “It will be fine when I say it’s fine. Now show me your leg.”

 Soren sighed, pulling up his pant leg. He grimaced, most of his ankle was already a deep violet. Alright, maybe it wasn’t that fine.

 Corvus shook his head and sighed. “You’re probably going to need a splint.”

 “A splint! But it’s… it’s fine! If my leg is all messed up, I can’t do any of the activities. Like the hikes or the sparring or the-”

 “You’re going to need a splint.” Corvus repeated. “And no, you probably shouldn’t do any of those.”

 “But-”

 “You need to take it easy for at least a few weeks, until your ankle is better. I don’t know how you even walked on it the whole way back.”

 “Soren’s tough.” Callum supplied, leaning over to look at Corvus. “That’s how.”

 “Hmph. Well, he wouldn’t need to be tough if he didn’t go falling out of trees. Why don’t you go to bed, Prince Callum. It’s nearly morning and you aren’t on bed rest.”

 Callum sighed, but plodded off towards his tent. He glanced back at them once before disappearing inside, and Soren gave him an encouraging smile. But as soon as he was gone he let out a heavy breath, wincing. 

 “It’s not fine, eh?” Corvus said, not looking up from what he was doing.

 “I mean, it probably would be by tomorrow- ow”

 “No. It won’t.”

 Soren sighed. “Fine. I’ll rest.”

 “Why didn’t you tell me it was this bad? I could have helped you back to camp.”

 “I uhm…”

 “There’s more than one way to be tough.” Corvus told him, finishing the splint and sitting back to look at Soren. “Asking for help isn’t a sign of weakness.”

 “Yeah, well, where I come from it is.”

 “That’s stupid.”

 “Are you calling my family stupid?”

 “I guess so.” Corvus returned the rest of the supplies to the med kit and clipped it shut before standing up. “I’ll check on it again tomorrow. Okay?”

 “But what am I supposed to do all day? Everyone else is going to be out doing fun stuff, and I’ll just be stuck here watching the grass grow.”

 “That’s the price you’re paying for your heroics.”

 “Heroics?” Soren perked up, and Corvus glanced back at him.

 “Don’t let it go to your head.”

 “Too late.” Soren grinned at him, and a small smile tugged at the corner of Corvus’ mouth. The older boy sighed.

 “I suppose I should stay back and ensure that you actually rest.”

 “So… what I’m hearing is that you’re gonna keep me company?”

 “That would be a side effect, yes.”

 “Great! We can come up with a new camp song.”

 “And why would we do that?”

 “Because it’s fun.” Soren said, counting off the reasons on the fingers of his left hand. “Because we can. And because I said so.”

 Corvus rolled his eyes, but he was smiling. “Camp songs it is, then.”

 “Yes!” Soren cheered, forgetting that the log he was sitting on didn’t have a back and toppling over.

 “Soren!” Corvus rushed to his side, peering over to make sure that he was alright. “Are you okay?”

 Soren brushed the leaves from his clothes as the older boy helped him up. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

 “Tomorrow, then?”

 “Tomorrow."

[dinsbeskar]

Hooooooo boy I have a Lot of Feelings.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

My heart already hurts!!! Noooooooo

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

OH GOD MY HEART, YOU HAVE ME ON THE FLOOR ALREADY

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

Hahahahaha Galadriel oh my god 😂😂😂

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

THE WAY MY BREATH JUST CEASED 👀💀

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

IT'S OUR BOY HERE HE IS

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

CURSED YEARNING OH MY GOD

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

His tan flexed muscles...

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

NO NOT DISAPPOINTED NOOOO

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

Oh god the angst, my heart hurts, yes ofc it would be better if he wasn't around for middle earth... however we're not thinking about the greater good!!! We are selfish!!

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

"This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

This whole section, holy shit, their yearning is palpable, I need them to kiss!!!!

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

Oooof. No comment, this pains me deeply

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

He is so delulu, I love him lmfao, girl run!!!

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Oooooooooh the juxtaposition, okay I love this!!! The play between light and dark, oh yes 👌🤌🙌

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

He is good!!! Well no he's evil, but he's good at being evil!!! 😂

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

I LOVE THIS, SHE HATES HIS NAME TOO, AHHHHHH USUALLY IT'S HIM DENYING IT, BUT SHE HATES IT TOO OH GOD

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

We want it!!! We want it for them so bad 🤦‍♀️🙈💀

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

OUCH

Well, touché sir, I suppose that's valid in a way 😂

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

Ahhhhhhhhh yes we're in on the deception but we're not thrilled about it... but we're still in 🙈

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

Oh this is gorgeous 😍 sparkly ginger loser 😂😂

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

👀👀👀 I LOVE THIS (ngl I have this concept in a later chapter of my series, so apologies for when it comes up 😂🙈)

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

GORGEOUS, BEAUTIFUL, BREATHTAKING

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Oh god this whole section, absolutely gorgeous, their yearning???? Their attraction to each other is hurting my heart, I need to remember to breathe 😅

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

Ah God I love this, like it won't work, he already thinks of it as imprisonment, but it's such a beautiful notion

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant.

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

This is absolutely gorgeous too, oh god, like redemption seems within his grasp, despite what we know, ughhhhh i love it

Babe this is amazing, you're so talented, I always love anything I read by you!! 💜💜💜

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

SUMMARY — You and Mairon were created together by Eru and ever since you remained nearly inseparable. He chose to follow Melkor but you stayed loyal to your gods. Even though he was believed to be slain, you meet your soulmate once again many years later in Númenor where you serve the Valar by helping Tar-Míriel with your counsel.

AUTHOR’S NOTE — I started writing this fic like two weeks ago but I got distracted in the meantime with different ideas 🤧 (Y/N) is used here as the Reader's "real" name, therefore I gave her human form in Númenor a name and that is Maneth, which apparently means Departed Spirit. The dynamic between Sauron and the Reader is lowkey inspired by that quote from Wuthering Heights – He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same. Also, I was very fixated on making the short prologue of this fic sound like it was taken from The Silmarillion but it was a challenge, especially when English is not my first language, so yeah, I have to admit I used "the chat" a bit to help me in the beginning (and only there) 🙈. It didn't write even a single sentence for me, though, it only helped me with reshaping the phrases to sound more like the way I wanted them to be. I have never used AI to help me write my fics, so I feel a bit weird with it but I think the prologue sounds great now, so I decided to keep it this way. However, I wanted to admit to it here because I would feel bad otherwise. Once more – "the chat" did not write even a single sentence for me. I only needed its help with finding better sounding phrases to express what I have already written all by myself and it was only for the short prologue of the story. I didn't put any warnings but I think that – if you squint – it can have a bit of a twincest vibe...? 😳 At least I thought so while writing some scenes but maybe it's just my messed up mind going into such places 🙈 The fic is quite long but I didn't want to divide this one into two parts.

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

Together were they fashioned by the thought of Eru Ilúvatar, Mairon and (Y/N), kindred spirits among the Maiar, and thus were their fates entwined. Mairon was drawn to Aulë the Smith, whose lore of crafting and forging he learned with eager mind, while (Y/N) was taken under the care of Varda Elentári, the Queen of Stars, and to her was revealed the mysteries of light and the heavens.

In those days of ancient bliss, when the first flowers were made to bloom, Mairon would gather their blossoms for (Y/N), and together they would abide for hours in fields unmarred by shadow. Often, he would craft jewels of wondrous beauty, offering them to her in token of his affection. Yet his most treasured gift to her was a ring, fair and unmarred, crafted in the purity of his early days, before his spirit turned to darker counsel.

It is said that (Y/N) wore that ring ever upon her hand, and that when Varda revealed to her the art of setting stars in the firmament, she bestowed the first star of her own making with the name «Mairon», that his light might endure forever.

In the later days, when Mairon fell to the shadow and allied himself with Melkor, he sought ever to draw (Y/N) to his side, weaving words of guile and repentance. Many times did he deceive her, and she, moved by their bond, hoped he might yet be redeemed. Yet she held fast to the Valar, and her faith remained unbroken.

Mairon's descent brought sorrow unending to (Y/N), and often she pleaded with the Valar to grant him mercy. Yet Varda would have her no longer as a disciple, for the brightness of her spirit had dimmed, and her heart clung still to one who had been corrupted. Then Nienna, She Who Weeps, took pity upon (Y/N) and took her into her care, teaching her of endurance and grief. And it was Nienna who spoke in favour of Mairon when Melkor, feigning humility, sought pardon from the Valar, for she understood well the love that bound (Y/N) to him.

Yet no reunion came to pass, for Mairon fled from the wrath of the Valar, and he vanished into the shadows of the world, so that some claimed him slain. The star that bore his name faded from the heavens, and it is told that (Y/N) wept until her tears filled a lake in The Southlands, and thus was the dark and bitter Lake Núrnen brought into being, a testament to her sorrow.

You were sent to Númenor to aid the Queen Regent with your counsel. Míriel suspected that you were no ordinary human being but she knew better than to ask too many questions. Very quickly you were promoted in her council, which was visibly making Ar-Pharazôn uneasy and suspicious of you because you had shown up out of nowhere one day, posing to be a noble Lady from Middle-earth… but who truly knew where you were coming from? 

The fate of this beautiful island given to the ancestors of these people was uncertain, though. It was teetering between glory and ruin. You were there to make sure they would choose the right path when the time of difficult decisions would come.

When you heard that one of the captains brought a She-Elf to Númenor that he had found in an open sea, you knew immediately that it was no coincidence. It was surely the very beginning of something new. Something exciting and worrying, too.

The time you had already spent in Númenor was enough for you to fall in love with the island and its people. The Queen Regent was truly your friend and you hoped for nothing else but for this realm’s happiness.

You were standing next to Míriel when Captain Elendil walked two castaways inside the hall. She-Elf you recognised immediately because it was Lady Galadriel. She, however, could not recognise you because of your disguise. At the sight of a dirty, ragged common man walking beside her, you felt an odd shiver going down your spine.

You looked down, nervously, when he looked up to meet your gaze. Your fingers busied themselves with a ring that decorated your finger for long centuries now – it would never leave you, no matter what form you were in.

You could not understand why some random human was making you feel such odd sensations as if the air between you two vibrated and caused disruption inside the room.

“No one kneels in Númenor,” the Queen Regent announced to Lady Galadriel and her new friend when they attempted to do so.

Out of curiosity that you seemed not to be able to stop, you looked up again when the man did the same. Your eyes met and you could barely contain yourself because the soul trapped inside the form you were in was about to explode.

He was no ordinary human being and you wondered if Lady Galadriel knew about it.

Who could it be, though? The Valar would not send any help for you here without warning you beforehand. Even if they would, no other Maia was able to make you feel this extraordinary way. 

No other Maia except for one.

The fingers fidgeting with your ring squeezed it tighter at the memory of Mairon. He had been long gone now and all that seemed to be left of him was that ring. Not even his star shone bright in the night sky anymore.

The only part of Mairon that still remained was not that ring, though. It was you – he would forever live inside of you like you had lived inside of him and like part of you had died the day he had been slain.

“Speak, Elf. Name thyself,” Míriel ordered Lady Galadriel and Galadriel’s eyes found yours. She tilted her head but decided not to comment although now you were certain that she could sense what kind of spirit you were.

“Galadriel of the Noldor,” she introduced herself. “Daughter of the Golden House of Finarfin. Commander of the Northern Armies of High King Gil-Galad.”

The man she came with looked at her with furrowed brows before deciding to introduce himself as well.

“Halbrand,” he said. “Of The Southlands,” he added.

“A man and an Elf, together?” You asked as you approached the Queen Regent.

“Circumstances arose that–” The man named Halbrand began but Galadriel did not allow him to finish.

“We are companions by chance. Met on the open sea. Your captain here, delivered us from certain death,” she looked at Elendil. “All we ask is that Númenor continue his mercy and grant us ship’s passage to Middle-earth.”

The crowd gathered inside the hall began to chatter between each other. It was uncommon to see an Elf in Númenor these days and Galadriel was far from humble. Her demands were not making anyone here happy and you could sense that.

The only man whose aura you could not sense was him again – the filthy commoner.

Míriel exchanged a meaningful look with Ar-Pharazôn before her cousin spoke.

“It’s been generations since a ship of Númenor was permitted to make such a journey on an Elf’s behalf,” he told the Elf, harshly.

You wondered how Galadriel would accept the fact that here, in Númenor, she was not an authority to anyone and her presence was barely intimidating. You knew her heart was of a pure kind but it was no mystery amongst the Valar, the Maiar and the Elves that she also needed to be humbled very often but such occasions were quite rare.

“It is because of the Elves that you were given this island,” she reminded but such words only worsened her situation. “Surely you can spare a few planks and a rudder.”

Míriel looked behind to stare at your face, visibly searching for your counsel. You shook your head slightly to let her know that you did not think following Galadriel’s orders was a good idea. It did not escape Ar-Pharazôn’s eye as he shot you a deadly glance. He hated the influence you had over his cousin.

“Our ancestors were not given anything,” the Queen Regent smiled softly at Galadriel as she walked down the stairs to approach the Elf and her human companion. “They paid for this isle with the blood of their kin.”

“What the Elf means–” Halbrand tried to save the situation.

“Then if blood be the price of passage, I will pay it,” Galadriel interrupted him again and you sighed softly. “But one way or another, I will depart.”

One of your tasks in Númenor was to help rebuild the friendship between the humans of this island and the Elves. Lady Galadriel was definitely not helping you.

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

“I have no need of your welcome,” Galadriel continued with her rude remarks and Halbrand looked at her with panic in his eyes before looking back at the guards by the doors.

“And you are quickly wearing out yours,” the Queen Regent warned Galadriel. “Guards,” she called for them.

“My friends!” Halbrand exclaimed, getting everyone’s attention and you despised it.

You despised it because your weak human form struggled once more to contain your trembling spirit. You were scared that you would be this island’s doom yourself any given moment if you suddenly erupted as if you were a volcano. Your fingers began to tremble and you lowered your gaze, pretending to be humble.

“It seems to me that our leaving presents some complications,” Halbrand pointed out. “Perhaps it’d be better if we stayed–”

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

“Long enough, good Queen, to give you and your advisors adequate time to weigh our request,” he looked up at you.

You were holding your gaze lowered but you knew somehow that he was staring at you. You could feel his eyes piercing you through because the way he was staring was not of an ordinary kind. He was not glancing at your flesh but at your soul. You felt as if you were naked in front of him and as if there was nobody else inside this palace except for you two.

The ring around your finger seemed to get heavier all of the sudden as it reminded you one more about the only creature in this world who had known you so well and who could have made you feel similar.

“A few days, perhaps?” Halbrand looked back at Míriel and you sighed out of relief once you got free from his burning gaze.

The Queen Regent looked back at you once more and you looked up only slightly to nod at her. Ar-Pharazôn rolled his eyes but he did not disagree – at least not openly.

“Three days,” he ordered. “And the Elf is to be restricted to palace grounds.”

“I will not be made a prisoner!” Galadriel protested.

“I would sooner knee-cap a stallion than seek to imprison the mighty Commander of the Northern Armies,” Ar-Pharazôn answered ironically and the crowd laughed at her. “So, you shall be Númenor’s guest.”

You could feel the tension in the room slowly relaxing and you nodded at the Queen Regent before walking out in a hurry, feeling Halbrand’s eyes on you as you were walking out in a haste with your skirts gathered in your fists, rushing to your chambers to collect your chaotic thoughts.

You had a malicious feeling creeping up deep inside of you – no, not even a feeling. An odd, eerie certainty. And as much as you wished for it to not be true, you also wanted it to be and you felt guilty for experiencing such cursed yearning to see and touch him again. Your Mairon.

When you heard from your maid at the end of the day that the human named Halbrand ended up in jail already for starting a fight, you simply could not stop yourself from paying him a visit. You walked inside the prison area of the palace carefully as you moved quietly throughout the hall with your dress flowing behind you gently.

The man was sitting on the floor with his back leaning on the wall. He was smirking as he watched you with no reaction whatsoever. Once more you noticed that you could not sense his aura or predict his mood like you usually could with most creatures, even the noblest of the Elves.

“You are no human,” you stated as you stood right in front of his cell. Halbrand snorted at that and rolled his eyes. “Who are you?” You asked and he only shook his head.

You grabbed the bars and squeezed them tightly as the silence broke due to your ring clashing with the iron. The sound echoed and Halbrand turned his head around rapidly while he squinted his eyes at your ring.

“Are you him?” You asked, nearly desperately. “Are you my Mairon?”

Halbrand stood up finally and even though he seemed to be more serious now, he still had a playful smirk on his lips. He approached you with his arms crossed and you caught yourself staring at his tan, flexed muscles before you looked up to meet his sparkling eyes once more. Nothing but the iron bars between you two and it was you squeezing them tight although he was the imprisoned one.

“You would look like a crazy maniac if I was not,” he whispered, leaning in. He was so close that you could feel his warm breath on your face.

“You were supposed to be dead…” you whispered and closed your eyes, feeling warm tears streaming down your cheeks. You squeezed your fists even tighter around the bars as your whole soul vibrated throughout your human form.

“I am sorry to disappoint you,” Halbrand answered.

“Your star has faded away, I have cried so many tears, have been outcast by Varda because with you, some of my own light faded away, too,” you revealed in a trembling voice before opening your hazy and wet eyes. He was staring at you without playfulness now. “I know it would be better for this world if you stayed dead but I feel joy to be with you again,” you confessed.

His rough fingertips brushed the ring wrapped around your finger as he smiled sadly.

“This ring remains older than most creatures of this realm,” he pointed out.

“I have never taken it off, Mairon,” you assured him. “Nothing in this world is older than the bond between us.”

“That is quite blasphemous,” he smirked and you shook your head as you had no idea what to say to that. He was right – you should not claim such things, you were no god. But yet, whatever was between you and him – it felt so overwhelming, so overlooming. 

Your souls were entangled, made of the same stardust. You were the same spirit, the same heart, the same blood; only split in two forms and that was enough pain to be apart in that way. Spending centuries without him at all, thinking he was dead… It was like death itself.

But Mairon was back now and alongside him back was the part of you that had died with him.

“Will you tell them about me, (Y/N)?” He asked, quietly.

“I should, should I not? You are up to no good,” you sniffled your tears back and your eyes met his. You let go of the iron bars and extended your hands to cup his scratched cheeks. When you touched, you felt your whole body trembling, barely able to contain your spirit and your power.

“I am up to the greater good. You know that my path is the right one; it is the only path. My only goal is to heal,” he assured you and leaned in to place a soft kiss upon the palm of your hand as you gasped.

“Up to no good then,” you let out a small chuckle through your tears. You knew him enough already to know what it meant.

You wanted to get rid of the iron bars and to kiss him. His form differed from his previous one but it was never about his flesh – it was always about whatever it contained.

You had never really kissed, though. All those centuries you had spent with each other, you had spent it on yearning and gazing at yourselves, stealing soft pecks upon your cheeks or knuckles, giving each other gifts and talking sweet to one another.

Because you knew that the Maiar had not been created to love – not like this, at least. They had not been created to know the pleasures of the flesh or its desires. They had been created to serve the gods.

Perhaps something had gone wrong during the act of your creation. Perhaps it had not – perhaps it was that part of him living inside of you that craved to be close to him at all times just like the part of you living inside of him craved to be close to you.

“Join me, (Y/N), come with me, be my Queen,” Halbrand whispered and you froze, taking your hands away immediately.

“Not even half an hour I was given to enjoy your return for you are trying to deceive me once more,” you remarked, harshly.

He had been known to tease and tempt you countless of times but your soul remained pure no matter what.

“Melkor is no more. I am my own master now but I will never be whole without you by my side,” Halbrand was the one to wrap his hands around the iron bars now as he moved even closer while you took a step back. “Varda outcasted you? I will make sure no one in Middle-earth worships her no more for you will become their Queen of Light.”

“Revenge is not what I seek,” you shook your head. “Please, Mairon, your words are like daggers. I cannot handle them,” you turned your head around as more and more of your tears streamed down your cheeks.

“Refuse me as much as you like, (Y/N). A part of you lives inside of me and that is my lightness. A part of me lives inside of you and it is the part you consider rotten. Be careful, my dear, for the rot likes to spread,” Halbrand warned you although his voice remained sweet.

“I have never considered anything coming from you to be rotten,” you laid your eyes upon him again.

“Can you not see, my sweet? They keep us apart because together we would become so powerful that we could outcast the gods themselves,” Halbrand continued and his whisper caused a shiver to go down your spine. His words were wrong… So wrong. “Together, we could be anything we wanted. We could be forged into one flesh if we wished, forever bound.”

“If you cared so much about us being together, you would let me lure you back into the light instead of trying to tempt me to join you in darkness, Mairon,” you whispered in Quenya.

“It pains me when you keep insisting that my path is the darkness. Your blind obedience to our creators is much darker to me, my love,” he answered.

Perhaps you would go on like that – and knowing you two, you could do that for ages. But you were interrupted by Lady Galadriel, who looked you up and down with curiosity as she entered the prison.

“The most trusted advisor of the Queen Regent,” she greeted you, “but the least trusted one amongst her subjects. You come from Middle-earth, they say. A noble Lady. But I have never heard of you before,” Galadriel pointed out.

“Must Elves know all about human affairs?” You challenged her and she smiled, softly.

“Human? Yes,” Galadriel answered. “There are spirits, however, that remain out of our grasp. They are no gods but nearly like them. Sent to us by the Valar when we need aid,” she squinted her eyes.

“I shall remain out of your grasp then,” you nodded and she nodded back.

“What is going on?” Halbrand whined, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms again. Putting on an act of a common man in front of Galadriel and even though you knew you should scream into her face that he was the very darkness she had sworn to fight and defeat – you chose to stay silent. Perhaps he would redeem himself, perhaps he would realise that he might be given a second chance if only he decided to choose the right path this time.

Perhaps, before outing him to the outside world, you would try to fix his way of perceiving which path was the right one.

And you knew he had been given too many chances already but your heart would never give up on him. You would forever find excuses for him and try to make it right between you two.

“You…” Galadriel approached the iron bars as she smiled softly at Halbrand. “You do not belong on this island.”

“If there’s one of us that doesn’t belong here, Elf, it’s you,” Halbrand shook his head.

“I’m not so sure of that anymore,” Galadriel’s eyes sparkled as she briefly laid them upon you. “But one thing I am now certain. You are more than you claim,” she took a step further. “I found this in the Hall of Lore,” she handed Halbrand a scroll of paper that made you squint your eyes.

He took it, pretending to be unbothered. And when he opened it, you saw a heraldry drawing, suddenly realising he was wearing a pendant with the same mark. What was the game he was playing…?

“That’s funny. I found this on a dead man,” Halbrand winked at you before he looked at Galadriel with a smirk. “Thought the pattern suited me,” he added and sat down on a bench inside his cell.

Galadriel sighed and she glanced at you, as if she was expecting you to help her. You did not move an inch, however.

“Many ages ago, a man bearing that mark united the scattered tribes of the Southlands under one banner,” she told Halbrand. “The very banner that might unite them again today. Against the evil that now seeks to claim their lands. Your lands, Halbrand,” she emphasised and you sucked on the inside of your cheeks after realising what his clever scheme was. “Your people have no King for you are him,” Galadriel kept insisting.

Your Mairon, the great deceiver, knew very well that eagerly agreeing to all of this would not be as powerful as trying to pretend to be uninterested at first. Therefore, he looked away and chuckled.

“That’s an odd thing to say to a man in a cage,” he pointed out. 

“A cage you have landed in because you chafe under the rags of the common,” Galadriel claimed as she looked at you again. “My Lady, you must tell your Queen the truth.”

“No Elf will tell me what I must or I must not do,” you smirked as you shook your head at how arrogant she was. You had to play your role but even as your Maia self, you wanted to humble her. “I doubt one pendant proves this man’s heritage enough.”

“What about his testimony?” Galadriel was not giving up as she looked at Halbrand again. “The armour that ought to rest upon your shoulders weighs upon your soul, Halbrand.”

Long silence occurred, in which you were able to watch the master of deception performing his craft. The way he kept staring at the drawing, his face full of mixed emotions and confusion, guilt. The way he grabbed the pendant with his hands and brushed it gently with his fingertips. Everyone would believe him.

“Be careful, Elf,” he said eventually. “The heir to this mark is heir to more than just nobility,” Halbrand stood up to approach the iron bars. “For it was his ancestor who swore a blood oath to Morgoth,” he reminded her and you were in awe how he used the bits of dark truth about himself to toy with her and test the waters.

And how oblivious she was, how eager to keep following the scenario she had already prepared for this situation to go with in her head.

“I am not the hero you seek,” Halbrand shook his head.

Indeed, he was not.

“For it was my family that lost the war,” he added.

“And it was mine who started it,” Galadriel insisted. “Ours was no chance meeting,” she pointed out and looked at you again. “No fate, nor destiny, nor any other words men use to speak of the forces they lack the conviction to name. Ours was the work of something greater,” she smiled at you and you forced a smile back.

Was she thinking that it was you who caused this meeting? Gods, if she only knew…

“You must see it,” she looked back at Halbrand.

“All I see is an Elf who won’t put down her sword,” he remarked.

“Come with me to Middle-earth,” she leaned in to be closer to him and you felt an odd sting of pain inside of your heart. Was it jealousy that another woman dared to stand so close to your Mairon…? Most likely. “And together we will redeem both our bloodlines.”

“How?” Halbrand asked, looking at her intensely. “You’re stuck on this island and you’re still short an army,” he smirked.

“That is all about to change,” Galadriel smiled and turned around to walk away.

You glanced at the man one last time before hurrying after her.

“Lady Galadriel!” You called out her name once you were outside the prison.

“My Lady,” she turned around to face you and you nearly bumped into her. “I did not expect to encounter an emissary of the Valar in Númenor, I must admit,” she bowed her head slightly. “How should I address you?”

“Here, in Númenor, you must call me Lady Maneth. In Valinor you would know me as (Y/N),” you introduced yourself and Lady Galadriel’s eyes widened slightly.

“(Y/N)...” She breathed out. “You know more than anyone else how important my task is. We must stop the darkness from spreading,” she pleaded.

“No,” you shook your head. “You must stop pushing this man… Halbrand… Into whatever you are trying to push him into,” you scolded her.

“Do the Valar have different plans for him?” Galadriel wondered out loud.

“It is not about him,” you winced, not wanting to discuss Mairon any longer with her. “It is about you, Artanis. You are beginning to become the very darkness you swore once to destroy,” you warned her.

“What do you mean?” Galadriel furrowed her brow as she took a step back.

“It is still cheating when one betrays a cheater. It is still a theft when one steals from a thief. And it is still a murder when one kills a murderer. Because it is not the matter of whether one deserves it or not – it is a matter of the act itself being committed. Too many pure and good souls were lost to us, driven by the desire to do justice,” you lectured her and you could feel her anger and frustration rising, however she would never dare to lash out on an emissary of the gods.

“Pretty words, that is all you can offer, meanwhile people are dying,” she spat out.

“Do you truly care about them, Artanis, or is their suffering your excuse to pick up the sword once more?” You asked but she was walking away angrily already and all you could see was her back, disappearing in the darkness of the corridor ahead of you.

You turned around once more and sighed at the doors leading back to the prison. You decided to leave Halbrand alone for the night but you worried about what would happen next. If he was about to choose the wrong path again, you would have to reveal his true self to everyone and interfere with his scheme.

Hope was all you had as you fidgeted with the ring around your finger.

“The visions are back and worse than ever,” Míriel confessed to you. “I suspect that it all has something to do with the Elf,” she added as she was trying to read your face but you made sure not to reveal anything.

“I knew that people of Númenor despised her kin but I underestimated the delicacy of the situation,” you admitted as you moved closer to the Queen Regent. “This is beyond worrying. The future of Númenor depends on your relationship with others. It is no time to make enemies instead of friends,” you warned.

“It would be an easier task to convince them that the Elves are not our enemies if only Lady Galadriel was not so…” the Queen Regent sighed, looking for the right word.

“Insufferable?” You chuckled and she nodded with a smile. “Elves differ from humans. They are not raised to be humble.”

“You know a lot about their kin,” Míriel pointed out, trying to make you confess who you truly were once more. She would never ask openly but sometimes she was teasing you this way.

“There are quite a few in the lands I come from,” you only answered.

“The lands you come from… Are they not The Southlands?” Míriel raised her eyebrows. “Like that human man?”

You took a deep breath in. If only you had known back then that your backstory would cause problems a few years later… But it was too late to change it because it would be highly suspicious.

“Yes,” you nodded. “But he is a commoner. I was a noble,” you added.

You were interrupted by Captain Elendil leading Lady Galadriel to you. She bowed her head slightly and exchanged a meaningful look with you.

“Lady Galadriel wishes for an audience,” Captain Elendil said and the Queen Regent nodded her head.

You stood still because these days she wanted you by her side always, no matter what. You did not even have to ask if you should leave or not.

“What is it?” Míriel asked when Galadriel stood on the other side of the table, facing you. She laid out two scrolls of paper in front of you – one was the same she had shown to Halbrand on the previous day and the other one was much more worn out and dirty.

“I found this in the Hall of Lore,” Galadriel informed the Queen Regent mysteriously and you allowed Míriel to see the items with her own eyes as you kept standing there with your hands clasped behind your back.

“You vex me, Elf,” Míriel looked up at Galadriel. “I welcome you as a guest and you gallop off to our countryside to steal ancient scrolls whilst your Southlander companion assaults our citizenry.”

“He is understandably quick to temper. His people are dying,” Galadriel explained.

“His people?” The Queen Regent asked, surprised.

“I believe the man you hold in your dungeons is no common brawler, but the lost heir in exile to the throne of The Southlands,” she revealed.

Míriel turned around to look at you and you raised your eyebrows slightly. You were not sure what to say to that. Should you help Mairon or interfere with his schemes? The answer was only easy for your mind but your heart wished to never cause him any trouble.

“Lady Maneth comes from The Southlands. She would know about that,” the Queen Regent informed Galadriel and the Elf looked at you, intensely.

“I cannot be sure,” you only said. “That there was a long gone line of Kings, I have known. That there are still their living descendants, I have not been aware of. That is not impossible, though,” you explained.

“His people are scattered. Leaderless,” Galadriel looked back at Míriel. “But with your backing they might unite behind his banner. And fight.”

How oblivious she was. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see floating in the air. His banner was nothing she would want to ever see people follow.

“What do you mean backing?” Míriel asked, taken aback by Galadriel’s proposal.

“Sauron was once your people’s enemy, as much as mine,” Galadriel reminded her and you moved uncomfortably. “I call on you to finish the task left undone.”

You might have hated this name more than he hated it. It brought you nothing but pain when others would address your Mairon this way – The Abhorred.

“I shall go,” you spoke, interrupting the tension between the two women. Míriel looked at you with a slight panic in her eyes because she did not want to be left alone with Galadriel but you simply could not stand being there anymore, hearing her talk about your Mairon. “I shall question that man, Halbrand. Mayhaps I will find out if he truly is what the Elf claims,” you said and Míriel nodded at you although you could sense she still felt uneasy to be left without your counsel.

You walked past Captain Elendil and went to the prison area of the palace like on the night before. Halbrand was sitting on the bench this time, with his back leaning on the iron bars. At the sound of your footsteps, he did not even flinch nor turned his head around. He did not have to. He knew it was you coming.

“Mairon…” You crouched down in front of his cell and wrapped your fingers around the bars. “Do not follow her, resist her temptation. Stay here with me.”

Halbrand turned around slowly with a playful smile on his lips as he looked down at you. You were not on your knees but it still seemed as if you were begging him.

“Stay here with you? Are you not a grand Lady on this island?” He asked.

“I can be anything I want and so can you,” you reminded him, your whisper was nearly inaudible but you did not need to speak your words out loud at all for him to hear them anyway. “We can live a lifetime here and then change our forms once more, start all over again. Over and over for the whole eternity. Far away from the rest. If I am to ever abandon my life alongside the gods, it will not be for your darkness… But it could be for this. For us.”

Halbrand stood up and the distance between you became even bigger now as he kept looking down at you with a hint of adoration mixed with pure contempt. He had to think you were pathetic and some part of him found it adorable but the other part found it embarrassing.

“It does not have to be Númenor,” you added. “We can go anywhere.”

“Let us go to The Southlands then,” Halbrand smirked. “Be the Queen alongside me.”

“You have made your decision then, I see,” you sighed and leaned in to press your forehead to the iron bars. “Will you ever love me enough to choose me over power?”

Halbrand did not like your choice of words as his eyes darkened. He crouched down as well, slowly, in a nearly threatening way. Now you were on his eye level as he looked intensely at you.

“Will you ever love me enough to choose me over your gods?” He asked.

The sound of footsteps made you stand up quickly and fix your dress. Halbrand also moved up and sat down on the bench. It was all done right in time because the guards walked inside the prison, dragging Lady Galadriel behind them. You watched with widened eyes as she was being thrown inside one of the cells.

“Don’t tell me,” Halbrand chuckled at her. “Tavern brawl?”

“Sedition,” she answered and Halbrand laughed as you gave her a scolding look.

When you joined Míriel again, she seemed to be lost in her own thoughts, staring outside the window. She turned her head around to smile at you gently and then she went back to staring ahead of her.

“And?” She asked.

“He asked for my hand,” you informed her with a playful smirk and the Queen Regent turned her head around once more to look at you with wide eyes.

“The audacity…” She sighed.

“Why?” You asked her with a soft smile.

“For a commoner to propose such a thing to a Lady like you… Even if it was only to jest–”

“It was not to jest, “you interrupted her. “If he is what Galadriel claims, then he would be my King,” you pointed out and an odd feeling filled your whole body when you called Mairon your King. A malicious one but also honey-like warm; sweetly spreading throughout your body.

“You are above human Kings, are you not, Lady Maneth?” Míriel raised an eyebrow at you. It was the very first time she asked such a thing so openly.

“I cannot answer that, my friend,” you smiled at her mysteriously, “but if he chooses to follow the path Lady Galadriel pushes him onto, I might have to follow him.”

“And abandon Númenor?” The Queen Regent asked. “Abandon me?”

“I am sorry,” you sighed. “Following him might be a task much more important than watching over this island,” you revealed to her.

Even though you were not given direct orders from the gods, it was obvious that watching over Mairon was more important because keeping his schemes under control would only profit in the end for everyone, including the people of Númenor. Míriel could not be told all the details, therefore she would never understand and she would feel abandoned by you. It was the price you had to pay.

It was an excuse, of course. Choosing to follow Mairon to Middle-earth to make sure he would not go back to his evil ways and that he would use the position Galadriel was giving him to do good instead… It was nothing but a noble excuse to simply explain the fact you wanted to follow him.

It was different now, though. It was not one of those times when he had begged you to come with him, straight to Morgoth. No, this time there was a string of hope that he would truly redeem himself. And of course he would have a bigger chance to do so with you by his side.

“It seems so important… Everything happening in Middle-earth. More important than I suspected. But if even you are willing to leave my side to go back there, it means there are things happening there that are much bigger than me,” Míriel said. “I must rethink Lady Galadriel’s words now then,” she informed you and walked past you to walk away. “Just like you must rethink Halbrand’s proposal.”

“Yes, I must,” you nodded at her and looked outside the window yourself. The sun was slowly setting and the view was beautiful – you wished it would forever be like this; so peaceful and calm with pink and orange hues.

Like back in the day when you had been sitting in the flower fields with Mairon, staring at the skies, your bodies filled with no malice – only pure yearning for one another.

The orange skies of the evening sky always reminded you of his ginger hair from back then and how you would brush it with your fingers, staring in awe at how the sunlight seemed to sparkle upon it.

You were standing by the guards’ side as you watched them open Halbrand’s cell. They nodded at him and he nodded back. The guards left you with him alone and an awkward silence occurred between you two.

“There, you have it your way,” you finally said, quietly.

“You must have missed me terribly,” he crossed his arms and chuckled but you did not want to laugh.

Your eyes filled with tears immediately at the mention of all those centuries you had spent thinking he was gone forever. You lifted your wet, glistening eyes to lay them on his and he clenched his jaw as he moved slightly while all playfulness left his expression.

“Do you know why I could not be killed?” Halbrand approached you to cup your chin and you shook your head. “Because of the part of me still living inside of you. As long as you are alive, I cannot be slain,” he explained. “However, the part of you that lives within me had to suffer for all those centuries alongside me and there is not a day passing when I do not regret causing you such pain.”

“Oh, Mairon…” You gasped and threw your arms around his neck to pull him closer and hug him.

However, he had something else on his mind. He blinked slowly a few times and cupped your cheeks now with his rough hands as he leaned in to join your lips together.

For the first time in your immortal life, you finally found out how sweet his lips were. And gods, how good they felt… How right. Your souls intertwined at that moment, every missing piece finding its place as if you were forged into one body.

“Before we were created, we had been a piece of stardust in the abyss and we had been one flesh then, of that I am sure,” Mairon whispered after breaking the kiss. “I should have kissed you much earlier, my love, for I have never felt so whole before.”

“No,” you shook your head. “I am glad you are kissing me only now,” you added and he raised an eyebrow at you. “For if you had kissed me like that back in the day, I would have followed you into corruption straight away. I would have worn black armour forged out of iron and I would have become Morgoth’s most zealous Lieutenant by your side – only to feel your lips on mine again,” you confessed.

Just when you finished voicing out your blasphemous feelings, Halbrand’s lips kissed you once more. This time he lowered his hands to intertwine your fingers with his. You felt him smirking when he felt the ring on your finger brushing his skin.

“Let us get married. Straight away,” he breathed out. “You are wearing my ring already. You have worn it for all eternity.”

“It would be only fair if you wore something from me as well. Something to mark you as my own like I am yours,” you pointed out.

“What would it be, my sweet?” Mairon caressed your cheek and you smirked at him a little before you reached out to the back of your neck.

You had prepared your gift for him this very morning when you already knew he would be released. There was a pendant around your neck, hidden under your dress. You took it off now and handed it to him as he slightly moved away at the sight of it.

It was a beautiful pendant surely although you made sure it would not look too feminine, so he would wear it at all times. However, what it contained inside was what truly intimidated him – it was a small portion of your light that you had sacrificed to lock in there. Wearing it could save his soul, of that you were sure. But in his eyes it surely was a form of imprisonment.

“Have you not sacrificed enough of your light for me already?” Mairon asked.

“Never enough. I shall sacrifice as much of it as I can to save you, my love,” you insisted and pushed the necklace into his open hand as you closed it around the pendant.

Mairon forced a smile as he swallowed thickly and opened his hand again to stare at the necklace before slowly putting it around his neck and hiding it under his tunic.

“Thank you,” he whispered in Quenya and you smiled back at him, encouragingly.

It had been ages since you last wore armour. Lately, the Valar had been using you more as a politician than a warrior but you still remembered the wars you had taken part of. Back then you had been on the opposite side of the field from Mairon but now you were by his side, riding your horse next to his as people of Númenor were throwing flowers at you. 

You took a deep breath in when it was time for you to jump off of your mare. What you were about to do would be equal to making a final decision about your fate – leaving Númenor meant forsaking the task that had been given to you by the Valar. However, you wanted to believe that they would value your new task even more; the one you had given to yourself. To watch over Mairon and make sure no one would know him as Sauron ever again.

He helped you to get on the ship and when you held his hand tight and he grinned at you, your heart filled with love and warmth. There was, however, a hint of worry because you knew what a skilled deceiver he could be. 

To become the King and Queen of The Southlands and to erase the darkness from that long-forsaken land was your shared goal now. Or so he had been promising you. To unite the tribes of that realm and to make sure they had a bright future. And once your mortal forms would become old enough, you would abandon or transform them to start a new life somewhere else. To heal more and more lands, more kins. 

You wanted to believe the healing would be done in the right and proper way this time because now he had you by his side.

Your new husband and an old companion smirked at you and squeezed your cheek playfully before turning around to join Captain Elendil to speak to him as the ships sailed out of the harbour. Lady Galadriel stood next to you instead and she glanced at you from the corner of her eye.

“I know it is not my right to ask about the ways of the Valar and the Maiar but why would a spirit like you marry a human and abandon the task originally given to her?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“The road goes ever winding,” you answered her. “Not even the Valar or the Maiar can see all its paths.”

“Your devotion to this cause makes me believe I was right to fight so eagerly for this to happen,” she said and you smiled to yourself. She was so desperate.

“You are right, Artanis. It is not your right to know about the ways of my kind,” you patted her shoulder and gave her a faint smile as she nodded, staring into the horizon.

You looked there, too, but your mind was absent. You were scared and unsure – some part of you nearly wanted to be as blind as Lady Galadriel because she seemed to be so certain and fearless.

You turned around and realised that he was looking at you already. And at that moment, he looked like the Maia he had been created as – so pure with that wide smile and the sun shining behind him, creating a halo around his form. He looked handsome as ever in Númenorian armour, so different from the one he had been wearing as Morgoth’s Lieutenant. 

You gave him a wide smile back, so full of love and devotion. Perhaps his star would begin to shine in the night sky once more.

MASTERLIST

[meowmedusa]

started actually spiraling out today i am. unwell

[batsplat]

do you know why vale seems to have a soft spot for pedrosa?

there's not any single one reason, I don't think, but here's are a few contributing factors that come to mind:

history! in large part because of the honda link, dani's the alien he's known the longest... valentino was the number one honda rider at a time at which dani was honda's rising star. photo on the right is from the 2001 honda celebrations at the last race of the season (when dani was sixteen); from oxley's valentino rossi: all his races: "that night vale celebrated in style at a raucous honda victory party, where he taught honda youngsters daijiro kato and dani pedrosa how to drink". they've known each other forever! valentino was getting teenage dani drunk! quite natural to be fond of someone you've seen grow up like that, even if they are being moulded to be your next big rival

circumstance! the way it basically works with valentino is that if you want to have a feud with him, you generally need to have a title fight with him when you’re already ‘established’ rivals (ignore marc, that’s its own thing, 2015 is a freaky season). biaggi and valentino were enemies headed into 2001 and then were worse enemies, he was cool with sete in year one but not year two, mostly *wiggles hand* the same with casey and jorge… feuds aren't build overnight. valentino and dani weren’t ever really direct title rivals - closest they got was 2006 and 2008, but in both cases valentino probably didn’t see dani as his main problem that year. there wasn't really any competitive necessity for valentino to get nasty... also with one or two notable exceptions, valentino did kinda have dani handled in their actual wheel-to-wheel fights, which let’s face it probably didn’t hurt

yapping! so this is just a theory but it’s one I believe strongly in. you know how valentino loves to talk, right? the thing about pressers and podiums is that you're always going to have a few regular attendees, if you will, corresponding to the front runners in any given year. now, unfortunately for valentino, there were periods of time where almost every other regular attendee was someone he had pretty active beef with. that doesn’t mean he always avoided yapping at them, but relatively speaking you want a guy you can build up some good repartee with to pass the time. dani was his guy… less complicated than casey and jorge, plus dani is polite enough to go along with it and maybe even enjoy chatting to valentino (it’s been known to happen). pressers can be boring and at podiums you're still full of adrenaline, valentino wants to share a joke with someone! my completely unscientific sense is that valentino does this a lot with dani around 2008-ish to 2012, then for two years marc is the number one yap victim, then for a while it’s a bit…? oddly valentino does seem to chat quite a lot with jorge in 2015... he likes to throw in a quirky behavioural pattern sometimes to keep you guessing. anyway then in 2016 he is Actively Ignoring two of these men so vale goes!! hi there dani!! and takes it from there (though the field is more mixed up post-2015 so he becomes more of an opportunistic yapper). in general, valentino will chat to pretty much anyone with A Few Exceptions, but he does usually have a bit of an order of preference

dani’s personality! now, obviously dani is very much capable of feuds, but he’s not that naturally combative a character. valentino generally needs a competitive justification for beef, though some personal animosity can help too… but he never really hated any of that trio of young riders to come through. valentino's known dani forever, he’s been around dani a fair bit because of their respective statuses in the sport, dani isn’t going out of his way to pick fights with valentino, so no reason not to get on! he does clearly quite like chatting to dani and seems pretty fond of him even towards the start of the alien era, at a time in which it was broadly expected that dani not casey would emerge as vale's primary challenger... god knows if the relationship would have soured if dani had assumed that mantle (probably at least a little lol) but failing that, valentino does just seem to quite like him. y’know, sometimes it’s like that

They Have Also Had Their Disagreements, But There Hasn’t Been Much Cause For It To Escalate Further. these disagreements have tended to be over racing standards, where dani is generally in the ‘you people are all insane’ camp and valentino is generally in the ‘ah it’s fine’ camp (though, obviously, there is nuance here… cf vale also criticising sic over the le mans 2011 incident that left dani with the broken collarbone). generally, they don't get into direct conflict over it, more of an underlying difference in positions (hey, aragon 2013 is an example)... but there’s been dani’s suggestion that valentino’s sepang 2015 stance is inconsistent with his generally laissez faire approach, and also some other isolated little scuffles over the years like say 2017 aragon (see below). pretty small scale stuff in the grand scheme of things and if you've been on-track rivals for that long it's kinda inevitable you'll eventually disagree about some stuff, but perhaps worth bringing up

went through all of the alien combos in my head and these two slot in just behind dani/casey as probably the two most consistently beef-free inter-alien relationships? dani/casey gets extra credit for surviving The Teammate Test. but, y'know, the thing about valentino is that he's a sociable, outgoing guy... he likes talking to people... he's actually interested in them... he's a decent conversationalist, easy to get on with, all that stuff. so if you expose valentino to this nice fella who at most was like... perhaps a bit more reserved towards the start of his time in the premier class (partly due to his mentor's approach), but really was generally pretty chill... well, if valentino isn't given any reason to hate dani, then default state is that he won't. good on them etc

[edwinisms]

I know how it sounds at first, but I really gotta feel bad for the boys that sacrificed edwin; I mean even the term “sacrificed edwin” paints them in a more sinister light than they really deserve– considering that wasn’t really, actually their intention.

they were bullies, they were homophobic (and/or were self loathing gay boys themselves taking it out on edwin, or were equally likely peer pressured into acting a certain way), they planned something stupid and mean to do to an innocent, anxious boy with the goal of scaring the shit out of him, all because he was effeminate and an easy target. but they didn’t know or expect any of the ritual stuff to be real. they were all laughing and joking during the ritual because it was just that to them– a joke. a cruel joke, but a joke.

teenagers can be mean and stupid and they usually regret it as adults and grow out of it / grow from it. they were stifled the chance to grow out of it, at least while alive. none of those boys deserved to be instakilled and sent to hell; they’re really not that much less deserving than edwin himself. they were all just kids, after all.

[a-story-teller]

I was in a major car accident yesterday (got t-boned) and was very luckily a) alone in the car, as the passenger side got walloped and b) not injured. However I took care of everything and then went home and proceeded to sleep for 19 out of the following 24 hours.

[forgotn1]

I usually really look forward to Thanksgiving and Christmas, as it means my family getting together for big holiday meals. But this year feels different. Everyone's got their own families now and aren't getting together like they used to. My mom will likely be with her fiance, my nephew, and their friends. My sister will be with her husband, daughters, and in-laws. I don't feel like I have a place this year.