#he would have unending loyalty to both of them

[starchaserdreams]

Screw Sirius being cool about jegulus/Starchaser, because when is he ever cool about anything?

Honestly he'd give BOTH of them the shovel talk.

Sirius: James, my brother has had a hard life and he's fragile and if you hurt him, so help me I'll shatter you into a million pieces to see how you like it.

Also Sirius: Regulus, my platonic soulmate has the sweetest, most kind and trusting heart and if you break his trust or his heart, I will not hesitate to bury you alive.

[youareunbearable]

I've been thinking about Dionysus a lot, mainly as a god of madness and what that looks like, and ofc I've been taking my two favourite things and smashing them together so I come to you all with this: to mortals, the Sons of Feanor are remembered for their madness.

Feanor, of course, is remembered the most for his brilliance. And because of this, brilliance comes hand in hand with madness. A mad scientist of you will. Many mortals warn each other of not falling too far into the act of creation, to not get too lost into their work or else they might not find themselves whole and sane again.

Ambarussa are seen in duality, like expected. They embody both the panic and fear and crazed determination of: the coward that would do anything for life; the deserter who claws and screams at their chains begging for freedom at any cost ; the dying and their moans and pleads and horrible knowing laughter; but also of the slow, mindless, aching guilt of the survivor. For there is a madness there, a quiet consuming one, that comes with the knowledge of following orders of madmen, and doing nothing to free yourself. Of shaking the bars of your mind as you complete the same tasks over and over and over hoping for a new outcome when you know from the start what it will be. In both cases Ambarussa burns and they laugh

Caranthir is another one that mortals call upon often, for its the madness of rage, of speaking and acting without thinking. The kind of daily insanity of intrusive thoughts and his name would be a warning to not let them win. For its so easy to slip, to give into the mindlessness of instinct, of acting without thought or reason, to scream and rage and feel it flood over your body, ignite your cheeks. But it's always over before it starts, leaving you dizzy at the thought, the implications, the aborted actions.

Curufin is madness of loyalty. Blind loyalty, consuming filial loyalty, the desire for praise and recognition, to be the best. It strangles your heart and mind, his mindless loyalty, this overwhelming driving force. Cities and empires have fallen to this madness, for what is ambition if not its own brand of insanity. To believe you are larger than life, to be greater than your fellow man, to take whatever you want at the cost of everyone else- if that isn't madness then what is?

Celegorm would be that answer, for many mortals say he is the most blatant of the Sons, for he is the madness of the Kill, the lost of self in the Bloodlust, the driving force of the Hunt. With the third son, he is the true concept of Maenads- the frenzied rites. The losing of inhibitions, the fervent prayers to a God that is no longer listening, the thrill of tearing into your kill, feeling their life drip from your teeth as you laugh and laugh at an all seeing and uncaring sky. He would be the unruly madness, the one that follows you at the bottom of a bottle, laughing in your ear and filling your senses until you do something you regret, maybe even something you don't even remember at the end of the night

Maglor would be the most well known of the Sons, one mortals are aware of, and many aren't even afraid of. Many even sink into his embrace, as easy and willing as a hug from a longtime friend. Madness in grief is always easy to be enveloped by, for grief is something that is too easy to lose yourself in, and its something that lingers for years, decades, always ready to sink its claws into you when you least expect it. To ward him off from overstaying his welcome, mortals gift seashells to lessen the time his hysteria cloaks you, if not to ward it off completely. Its because of him, mortals say, that your tears taste of saltwater, its his unending grief at the seaside at work

And finally, the oldest of the Sons. Some mortals claim that Maitimo isn't a madness of his own, but Feanors perfect creation that was shattered into 7 fragments, never to be whole again and doomed to be imperfect forever, picking up after his broken pieces. Oh no, others cry out, Russandol is the insanity of doom relationships, of star-crossed lovers and falling into the insanity that is born of knowing you will never be happy and at peace together. Other mortals scoff at this, for they know that Nelyafinwe is the downward spiral one goes on when they have overwhelming and doomed expectations crushing their shoulders, the slip into consuming madness that no matter what you will never be able to meet them. Still others shake their head. You're almost right, they call, Maedhros is all of that and more. For the eldest of the Sons is the most madness inducing thing of all, the knowledge of failure.

[hoziersmilligan]

rolling with the idea that every one of john winchester's kids are fated vessels for the archangels, i would like to propose adam being raphael's vessel.

based on true religion, raphael is an angel of healing and protection. his name means "god has healed", and he is the patron saint of medical workers. he is rooted in health and healing, and so is adam. beyond the obvious connection of raphael being a patron saint of medical workers and adam wanting to become a doctor, adam to his core is a healer. he healed himself; a human who has the strength to survive being locked in a cage in hell for 1200 years is not one who rests in self-destruction. he also healed michael. not physically, but mentally. an archangel like michael, who for his whole life has had immeasurable amount of control over heaven and earth, being locked away for millennia with absolutely nothing to do is bound to break mentally. and you could argue michael did in some ways, but in no ways specifically negative. adam kept michael sane, grounded, in the cage by his presence alone. they clearly communicated in the cage, as they came to an "agreement" about who can control their body, and i think the humanity adam brought into the cage is what kept michael from cracking, whether intentional or not.

also, in regard to the "protection" that raphael reins over, adam seems to resemble this. while we get few canonical goals and traits for adam, one is that he cares and is protective of his mother. he wants to become a doctor to pay back and care for his mom just like she did him. he hates his dad, john winchester, not just because of what john did to him, but for how john treated his mother. adam even shows some protection over michael when he takes over the body in 15x08 when michael starts becoming erratic and angry. he tells the winchesters to "give it a rest" when they upset michael, and while he phrases it in a way that seems to protect the winchesters from michael, i think the opposite is true as well. adam doesn't want michael lashing out for his own benefit and safety as much as for the winchesters.

and in a more canon sense, raphael's devotion to michael is representative to adam's. while never explicitly said, raphael stayed with michael in heaven even when raphael ceased to have faith in their father. he believed in his brother even when he didn't believe in his goal. adam treats michael a similar way. it’s clear in 15x08 that michael and adam have talked about michael’s father a few times before, judging by adam’s exasperation and the lack of overall anger michael expresses towards adam's opinions about god (while yes michael shows anger, he's an archangel. if michael was truly that angry adam would not be able to express his opinion like that). adam is willing to stand by michael's side, defend him, heal him, be "his guide", even though he doesn't believe in the same goals as michael. adam is devoted to michael, much like raphael was, not because of michael's endgame or unchecked loyalty, but simply because he is michael. he's someone they both love.

and one thing less michael-related and more in line with how sam, dean, and adam are all fated vessels for lucifer, michael, and raphael. in relation to their father, dean, like michael, was devoted to his dad. unending loyalty and a willingness to look over any mistake. they both are lost without their fathers, for better or for worse. sam, like lucifer, once had faith in his dad. there was a time for both of them where they were just as devoted to their fathers as their brothers were, but they both lost it along the way. they both started questioning their dads and opening themselves up to new viewpoints that directly disobeyed their dads' wishes. and in doing so, they both were disowned. adam, like raphael, was an easily forgettable child. they both were never the main focus of their fathers' plans, and because of this they both lost faith in their dads. maybe they didn't completely despise their fathers, but they had no reason to really care for them.

this topic also opens up a can of worms. does michael see raphael in adam? is that why he was more accepting towards him in the cage then he would've been towards most other humans, especially sam or dean? did he find normality in adam in the early days of the cage because of how his soul seemed to resemble his brother's?

[wingedjellyfishflight]

Compromised

Pain. That's all you know. You've never felt pain like this before. All encompassing and unending pain. A bullet to your shoulder has you hunching in on yourself against a wall, trying to refocus. You hear a crackled voice across the coms.

"Compromised." Fuck, now you can't even call out for help from the medic. Another pain shoots through you, somehow your nerves screaming worse than before. Another bullet ripped into your lower leg. You throw yourself backward, maneuvering your body into an alcove and point your rifle at the narrow entryway, still moving. The shooter pops around the corner, and you get a lucky shot, killing him instantly.

With the immediate danger over, you curl up, sobbing. You can't help yourself. You call across the coms requesting a medic. The silence followed by a single solitary "no" from him tells you that you are on your own. You manage to find your tourniquet and a wound pack in your chest armor pocket. Yanking off the vest and gear other gear, you pour the chemical from the wound pack into your shoulder and apply the tourniquet to your leg. Scribbling the time on it, you barely manage to get your rifle in hand when you hear footsteps nearby.

You reach for your vest, trying to slip it on without looking away from the entrance to the alcove. When you glance down to fit a strap, he is on you before you can do more than flinch. Your rifle is ripped away, and you are pinned under the largest man you have ever seen, on or off the battlefield. König. The one everyone was warned about. His hands quickly disarm you and put you in flex cuffs. He tosses you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. The quick change in position has you blacking out from both the pain and blood loss.

When you come to, you are in an infirmary, König at your side. He demands your name and rank, then turns to the doctor, telling them to hurry with patching you up. You're happy to be alive but scared shitless to be taken hostage by the other side.

"Yes, Colonel. She will be ready for interrogation after surgery. It shouldn't take more than a few hours."

"Nein, not interrogation. Hostage. We will ransom her back to her side. See how much they are willing to pay for her." His eyes lock onto yours, and you silently gasp at their intensity, averting them quickly. The doctor quickly prepares you for surgery, not saying a word beyond direct instructions to you.

Waking from surgery, you find you are handcuffed to the bed. The Colonel sits across the room, seemingly waiting for you to wake. "Do you know how much you are worth to your team?" You shake your head, mouth too dry to speak. "Nothing. They refuse to pay any amount, not even for your body to be returned." He watches you, waiting to see your reaction. You shrug, wincing at the pain that shoots up from your shoulder and ducking your face to hide the tears that well up. You knew that would be the likely response, but it still hurts to hear it said so plainly. Standing, he moves to your side. "Seems they think you are easy to replace." He offers you a drink of water. "I disagree." You nearly choke on the water in surprise, greedily drinking it down. Your eyes dart up to his, but he is focused on the way your lips are wrapped around the straw.

Pulling back, you say, "You don't know anything about me. I crumpled when I should have stood tall. Called across the coms when I should have borne the pain in silence. I failed the team and the mission. Couldn't even shoot you." He chuckles and sets down the water.

"You'd have to improve a lot to get a shot on me. I am going to train you to be that good, but for that, you... you will swear loyalty to me. Join me, and I would return such a loyalty tenfold. You would never be left to die alone. Never be told that you are worthless. Never be left to feel a failure. Never abandoned." His eyes are wild under the mask. His fervor contagious. You find yourself actually considering his offer despite your previous loyalty to your team.

"I- may I have time to consider such an offer? It is a lot to consider, especially being loyal to such an organization." You stare down at your hands, startling when fingers grip your chin, turning you to look at him.

"You will be loyal to me, König, not an organization. I will see you serve no other. You would travel with me as I work and learn under me." You can't help but take notice of the way he leers at you as he speaks. "You may have an hour to consider the offer. After that, I can no longer guarantee your safety as a hostage who can not be ransomed."

"Understood, sir." The honorific feels correct, and the way König's eyes soften makes you feel he is happy to hear it. The way your brain reacts is confusing. Dopamine cascading at his approval, but fear and horror at the position you are now in. He moves to sit again across the room, not leaving as you expected he would. "Sir?" His eyes flick up. "If I don't take the offer, I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Affirmative." His eyes don't leave yours as you consider his answer.

"Then, my only true choice is to say yes. I'm not ready to die, sir."

"Good choice, Herz. Good choice." He stands again, readying to leave. "Your training starts now. You will not waste your time waiting to heal." He pulls a book from his pocket and tosses it at you. It thwaps you in the chest, making you wince in pain. He pauses, clearly not having intended thus. You shake your wrist, clanging the handcuffs against the bar. He curses, clearly having forgotten the safety measure that medical insisted on. Taking them off, he leans over you. "Swear yourself to me now, Herz."

"I am yours, König. Completely and totally yours. I will follow your will as though it were my own. I will work to make you proud of me, sir." You bow your head to him, hoping that it is enough and that you can live up to such a promise. He grunts approvingly.

"I swear my loyalty to you, Herz. I will put you first, never leaving you to suffer or fall behind. You will serve me as I will serve you." He rubs your arm gently with his calloused hand. "Now, read, and I will arrange for your discharge."

"Yes, mein König."

It is two years later that he is called to fight alongside the team that abandoned you to die. They don't recognize you beneath the hood that König robed you in within days of swearing yourself to him. Your husband hides your face, just as he hides his own. They know you only as Herz, wife to the worst man they have ever known of. They treat you with disrespect at every turn in any way they can get away with.

As you board the plane to head home, he bids you to remove the mask, demanding a kiss in front of the team waving farewell sarcastically. The look of shock and horror on your former teammates is one you savor many years later. Your matching answering grins haunt them for the rest of their lives.

[diavolo-is-babygirl]

Diavolo x GN!MC Fanfic (plus Barbatos friendship): Home, Love and Healing

The palace halls stood still, draped in a somber silence, as Diavolo stood before the shimmering portal. His heart weighed heavily with a decision that shattered him as much as it would shatter the treasure before him.

MC, with their radiant presence, had been a light in the Devildom, a beacon in a world that knew only night.

But then a malicious demon's threat to their life had forced his hand.

"Diavolo," MC whispered, their eyes wide with confusion and sorrow, their body trembling from pain that transcended boundaries. "why do I have to leave?"

Diavolo's eyes, usually so full of sunshine and mischief, were now pools of grief. He gently took MC's hands in his. "For your safety, my beloved. The Devildom is no longer your home. I can't bear the thought of you being harmed-or killed."

Tears welled up in MC's eyes. "But what about everything we've been through? Everything we mean to each other? We can get through this! We'll figure out a way to beat him. We'll get the brothers to help! Dammit, I love you!"

Diavolo's grip tightened, his voice cracking, "I love you too, MC. It is because I love you that I must do this. You will forget our pain, our joy, our love. You will live, and that is all that matters, my darling."

With an increasingly heavy heart, Diavolo invoked the spell, watching as MC's eyes glazed over, the memories of home, love and life slipping away like sand through fingers.

He guided them through the portal, his heart shattering and his soul bleeding out with every slow step.

---

Barbatos, who had watched this unfold from the shadows, felt a deep ache in his chest.

He had served Diavolo for centuries, but never had he seen his lord so broken. The weight of their mutual grief crushed him, compelling him to defy all orders.

Under the absinthe cloak of night, Barbatos sought out ancient, forbidden magic. The risk was immense, the toll on his being potentially deadly, but his loyalty and love for both Diavolo and MC drove him forward. Minutes turned into days as he chanted incantations, his strength waning with every passing moment.

---

In the human world, MC woke up one morning with a sudden, overwhelming flood of memories. Their time in the Devildom, their love for Diavolo, every precious moment came rushing back. The ache in their heart was excruciating, and without hesitation, they sought the portal to return.

Diavolo, sensing the shift, felt a spark of hope ignite within him. He raced to the portal, his heart pounding. As MC stepped through, their eyes met, and in that instant, the world felt whole again.

But before joy could breathe life into their once-broken world, Diavolo noticed Barbatos, pale and frail, leaning against the portal’s frame. His eyes were no longer luminous with mystique but dim, his body trembling from the exertion.

"Barbatos!" Diavolo's voice was a mixture of relief and anger. "What have you done?"

Barbatos managed a weak smile, his voice barely a whisper. "I couldn't bear to see you both suffer, sire. You belong together."

Diavolo's eyes filled with tears, torn between infinite gratitude, boundless fury and fear. "You risked everything...even your life?"

Barbatos nodded weakly, his smile as faint as dusk. "It was worth it, Young Master, for your happiness."

MC rushed to Barbatos, their hands glowing with healing magic, love and light. "Oh no you don't, Barbatos! I won't let you leave us!"

As Diavolo held Barbatos, he crafted his own healing magic from the memories he shared with his butler. With magic borne of desperation, an unbreakable bond and hope, he poured his own life into Barbatos. He then looked at MC, then back at Barbatos, heart filled with unending gratitude.

"Thank you, my friend," he whispered, "for bringing us back together."

Barbatos poked Diavolo's nose, now much stronger due to MC's and Diavolo's essence flowing into him. "Think nothing of it, Young Master. As I said-you and MC belong together."

The three of them, united by love and sacrifice, glowing with love and rebirth, stood together in the palace halls. Ready to face whatever the future held. Except-

"Now it's time for me to prepare dinner, my Lord. How about some pickle casserole?"

"Not on your life, or mine," Diavolo immediately replied, MC laughing all the while.

[writingsbychlo]

your brain is incredible omg!

my word for you is:

communication

"The key to an effective relationship..." Feyre smiled, flipping her hand over and holding it out to her mate, balancing her newborn in her other one. Rhysand slipped his hand into her own, grinning proudly and lifting their joined hands up to kiss the back of her palm.

"Is good communication." He finished for her, the table around you all falling silent. For a second, a pin could have been heard dropping, and you desperately tried to contain your snicker, feeling Azriel's amusement rippling down the bond into your chest and only making it worse.

Luckily, it wasn't you who broke the silence, but Nesta. She made a gagging sound, while Cassian let out a loud 'boo', and both the High Lord and Lady's smiles turned to scowls as laughter burst out around the dinner table.

"The key to an effective relationship is communication!" Cassian mocked, and even Amren chuckled, as Nesta only shook her head. The two had been reprimanded for over ten minutes by the youngest Archeron for yet another argument at the dinner table, one they'd tried to drag everyone else into, and clearly, none of that scolding had sunken in.

"Not all of us can literally read each other's minds." Nesta sniped in return, smirking into her wine glass as her sister huffed, and Rhys glared at her.

"You asked for advice, Nesta."

"I did not! I asked who the Hell wanted to bother with a mate when they're so fucking annoying!" She elbowed Cassian, who only sat smugly in his seat, blowing a kiss at her.

"Language!" Rhys burst, covering his son's ears, a bout of power rustling through the room and trembling the wine glasses, and you couldn't take it anymore.

"Oh, c'mon, Rhys! I don't think the word 'fuck' is gonna' affect him, he's three months old. He can't even hold his own head up yet, he's not about to start cursing like a sailor."

"Oh, and I suppose you have some better advice to offer? I don't see you helping!" He was all but pouting now, and Azriel shrugged, the arm stretched out along the back of your chair lifted, hands playing with the ends of your hair softly.

"As the longest-mated couple here, perhaps our advice would be best, my love." Azriel sounded so sincere, so genuine, and a quiet hush fell around the table at his confidence. What they weren't privy to, however, was the mischievous tug you felt in your chest as he turned to smile lovingly at you.

"Alright. Well, I could tell you some more things like... the key to a good relationship is love, and patience."

"And unending loyalty. Give and take, compromise to make your lover happy." Azriel added, and you preened a little for effect, running your thumb over his cheek, as he offered a doting smile your way, though.

"The most important, though..."

"And, really, this is crucial..." Azriel emphasised, letting his brows pull together seriously, and everyone seemed to practically lean in. Even Amren was paying attention now.

You let the tension sit for a moment, let them stew in it, eyes moving across every single person at the table as they all waited eagerly, until you were sure someone was about to snap.

"Is being able to give really good head." Azriel finally finished, and Rhysand choked on the wine he was sipping, Feyre gasped and covered her child's ears again, and Cassian all but fell out of his chair with laughter.

"That, and a massive dick."

At that, Azriel beamed, the sound of your high-five echoing around the dining room, almost lost to the sounds of raucous laughter.

"Dammit, so Cassian has neither of the traits I need." Nesta sighed, and Cassian's indignant spluttering began. As more playful bickering broke out, you leaned a little further into your mate's side, feeling him nuzzle at your temple, leaving a kiss in his wake.

"How about I show you some of that really good head later?" He muttered into your hair, and you sent a pang of heat back to him in answer, feeling his responding breathless chuckle.

"I can't wait."

[nothazellevesque]

Okay so in d&d, all paladins get their powers from an oath that they swear. in practice, most of those paladins have ended up swearing an oath to some type of god. (it’s a common misconception with modern d&d that paladins HAVE to serve a god like they did in earlier variants of the game, but it’s never explicitly stated in the 5e player handbook, so technically your paladin could swear an oath and pledge their unending loyalty to literally anything)

anyways, this means that it is technically possible in an epilogue variation of baldurs gate three that gale ascends to godhood and becomes the god of ambition, and minthara somehow becomes his paladin. did she purposely swear an oath to him? did he just give her powers to thank her for her help with the nether brain ? does she (admittedly an ambitious and power hungry character) simply fly too close to the sun and accidentally begin worshipping the nebulous concept of “ambition” enough that gale could take ownership of her powers? who knows. but i know deep in my soul that miss minthara would hate every moment of her time as a gale paladin, and i think that’s hilarious for both of them

[elronds-meleth-nin]

Never Too Late - Part Two: Agh Burzum-Ishi Krimpatul

I know the first part of this fic was a little bit weird, but hopefully things will make more sense with this part. Thank you all for putting up with my strange fic experimentation! Given what has happened and this fic's overarching theme of hope (which will become clear soon, I swear) I want to continue this fic before all others. This, of all things, needs to see the light of day.

Part One here.

Cross-posted to AO3 here.

~*~

Adar (RoP) x Maia!Reader

[A/N: Suggestive positions/actions and nudity in this chapter, so 18+ ONLY, MINORS DNI!!!]

Warnings: Mentions of injuries, mentions of scars, mentions of torture, nudity, description of the aftermath of flogging (not terribly graphic but still enough that I think a warning is necessary), mentions of blood, Morgoth is his own warning, as is Sauron, kissing, angst, hurt/comfort, I swear this will have a happy ending at some point, idk what I'm doing tbh but I'm trying.

~*~

Elf he was, but Uruk he became. Ruined, tortured, and scarred, the Uruk with no name was promised one by his master. 'Adar' he swore he'd be called. 'Father.' The Uruk had wanted children, even if he'd guarded the secret of the woman he loved with his life. He buried her name so deep within his heart that he nearly forgot it himself.

But, Morgoth never pulled it from him. Only his desire to have a family. To have children. He had seen nearly all of the Uruk's heart, both dark and light, but not the small crevice in which he'd hidden his love.

At the start, he did not understand how Morgoth planned to give him that which he desired, but he'd been foolish enough to choose this path. He had to see it through, no matter the end. It had, undoubtedly, cost him the respect of his lady, so however Morgoth chose to fulfill his wish, he prayed that it would be worth such a sacrifice. But, in his heart, he knew it never would be.

Having been robbed of his lady, the Uruk who would become Adar stewed in self-loathing. He accepted his master's discipline - regardless of the method, hook, cane, or whip - without protest, uttering barely a sound. He believed that he deserved this pain for bringing sadness to she whom he loved best. He wept in the shadows, but not all of it was from Morgoth's torture. The beatings he could endure, but the loss of her warmth, her light...that was the pain that changed him.

To the rest of those in Utumno, the dark lord's stronghold in the far north, Adar presented the façade of strength unbreaking and cold ruthlessness. But, ever in his heart there dwelt a love so fierce it threatened to split him open every time he thought of her. Across the long centuries as he was molded by his master's hand, Adar never forgot who he had been or the light he'd felt streaming over his skin beside the riverbank.

The light was meager in that dark stronghold, however, and soon the feeling was little more than a far distant memory which comforted him through the horrors. Then, it was bolstered by the small cries of the first Uruk children to be born. They might not have been the family he desired to have with his lady, but they were children, young and as yet innocent - precious gifts. Despite anything that Morgoth or Sauron said, he knew his children were worthy of the breath of life, and he would protect them accordingly.

Then, Morgoth ordered the Moriondor to prove their loyalty through suffering. Many tasks he set them, each leaving them more scarred and damaged than before. The final of which was to be carried out atop the dark peak jutting up from the barren wastes of Utumno.

They were led to the top, and each of the thirteen was forced to their knees, arms pulled back at a painful angle, and chained that way. Their clothing was stripped of them beforehand, baring them and rendering them vulnerable to the elements. And thus, they were left.

Hunger tore at them, the shadows writhed mockingly in the unending, suffocating loneliness. As days passed, one by one, the Moriondor cried out for mercy, fearing they'd been forgotten and left to die. Many wept, others screamed out in terror or anger, but not Adar.

Silently, he bore this latest torture. His shoulders protested, shooting agony down his arms, neck, and back at the terrible angle in which they were stuck. Yet, still he remained silent. Sleep came in fits and starts, jolts of pain waking him with a gasp before he became anywhere near fully rested.

If he died there, he thought, it would serve him right for ever leaving that beautiful spot beside the river. He longed to say his lady's name, but he did not wish for the dark lord to hear it or for her to be anywhere near this wretched place.

Days became a week, then two, after which he was so exhausted that he lost track of time. Finally, one day, rain began to fall, but it was different from that which he had felt before. It did not burn his skin. The drops were full of light, gentle and welcoming, an even larger wave of which washed over Adar's face, temporarily soothing the aches from the dark lord's latest round of punishment. The scars that were not yet fully healed - due to Morgoth's dark magic - stopped stinging, and he drew an easier breath than he had in...he could not remember how long it had been.

Lifting his head to find the source of both the rain and the light, he saw the impossible.

He saw her.

Dropping to her knees before him, the Maia from the forest - his muse, his lady, his dearest joy - looked up at him with sadness flooding her eyes. She could not be real. This was not real. Morgoth must have finally broken through that final stronghold in his heart.

But...if there was even the slightest chance that she was truly here, he had to warn her away. She would be in danger if she remained here.

"My lady," he rasped in a voice torn and tattered from screams and dehydration, "you should not be here in the darkness."

"Nor should you, my wordsmith." With a mournful smile, she reached carefully forward and cupped his cheeks. His breath caught in his throat and a sob escaped in its place.

Was she truly there? Nothing so gentle had touched him in years. Neither Morgoth nor his lieutenants would allow that. She had to be real, because all of the other illusions placed before him had felt beautiful yet hollow.

Her touch was warm and solid, safe and loving. Familiar. Perfect. Wondrous.

At first, looking at her had taken effort, as if her light was almost too much for his dark-conditioned eyes, but as time passed, seconds colliding before his eyes, he found her visage easier to behold. Even if it had not, he would never have looked away. Not from her. He had adored her for so long, he'd clung to the hope of seeing her again, even from afar for so many years that he was certain looking away would kill him.

"The others will see you. He will see you," Adar warned. "Flee while you can. Please, my dearest lady, you must do this for me. I am beyond hope. Even my blood has been infiltrated by shadows. It is too late for me, but you can still save yourself. The knowledge that you are alive, walking along the river in the noonday sun is enough to sustain me to whatever end I shall meet."

"None are beyond hope," she promised skimming her thumbs so lightly over his cheeks. Their path brought relief to the raised, puffy skin that would soon be thick, callused skin. "You need not fear for me. The others cannot see me, nor can Morgoth. The rain conceals me from their sight."

Adar's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Then, how...? How am I able to see you? I have experienced the same darkness that they have." His lady smiled indulgently at his question.

"Because your light has not dimmed completely. It takes a great deal more to reignite a fire than it does to stoke the embers of one into a roaring flame. This rain is infused with light. It blinds the darkness. He cannot tame you any more than he can me, my brave poet," she murmured earnestly.

Her words stirred the hope that he'd thought long dead in his breast, and a single tear trickled down his cheek - all that his body could produce in his current state. Without a moment's hesitation, she leaned forward and kissed it away as if she had done so thousands of times.

He did not deserve this kindness. He'd been such a fool. He should never have left the river. He should never have looked into the shadows.

He never should have left her.

"I can take you away from him," she began as she leaned forward far enough for their foreheads to touch. "I can take you away from this terrible place, but only if you ask. We cannot intercede in matters which do not directly relate to our missions to such an extent without a direct request. You must desire it."

When she pulled back far enough to search his face, pain was written all over him. He wanted to say yes, to give her the request, but he could not. The Uruk shook his head.

"I must accept the consequences of my actions. I chose this. I began down this path, and now I must walk to its end, whatever that might be," he murmured, and just as all those years ago, he could see agony in her eyes. He attempted to soothe it the only way he knew how. "I have found a name, melda heri. 'Adar.'"

A sweet, wet smile stretched her lips.

"Adar," she breathed, and he could not help the feeling of anticipation that thrummed through him. It felt so right for her to call him that. He savored the feelings she'd inspired within him. She laid a hand over her heart and bowed her head. "Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo, heru Adar."

Though a few tears had trickled down her cheeks, she looked at him with such warmth that he thought his heart may burst.

"If you will not allow me to take you away from here," she began, caressing his cheeks, "then, please, let me do something smaller for you."

Unable to form words beyond the lump in his throat, Adar nodded his head. Wordlessly, she caught raindrops in her cupped palms, then blew into the pooled liquid until it began to glow, murmuring into it words which he could not understand. They did, however, sound familiar...like those which he'd spoken by the river so many years ago. Only when the water glowed as bright as daylight did she lift it to his lips and urge him to drink.

Adar obeyed without question, and as it trickled down his throat, he was filled with a warmth which he had not felt since those days spent together by the river.

"Might I ask what that was?" He inquired when it was gone. His voice still sounded raspy, but it was less gravel and more velvet - closer to what it had been before Morgoth. Speaking hurt less.

"Cauma," she whispered, laying a hand over his breast. Protection. His heart thrummed beneath his skin, but unlike so many years ago, it pumped black blood. Nevertheless, it responded to her, beating harder, stronger, more assuredly than before. "Protection that not even Morgoth can take from you."

"Thank you," he breathed. The words alone could never be enough. He wondered whether she knew how much he loved her.

Her lips met the corner of his mouth, and Adar's eyes fluttered shut.

"You do not need my protection, but you will always have it," she promised as she looked into his eyes one last time and stood. "You need only call my name and I will come. Never forget, Adar: you are stronger than any of them will ever know. You will see me again ere long. Do not give in, and do not forget who you are."

And before he could tell her that she was more lovely than anything under or amongst the stars, she was gone, borne away by the wind and rain amidst which she had arrived. Adar allowed himself to weep silently at the loss of her, but he was still dehydrated enough that no more tears fell.

He pulled himself together after several long moments, locking away his feelings as they had been before, so that neither Morgoth nor his lieutenants would know of his love for her.

Several days later, when Sauron finally came for them all, he looked down at the Moriondor one by one and asked them questions in a voice too low for the others to hear until it was their turn. Adar looked up as his master's lieutenant stepped before him, bearing a black, metal goblet.

"There was rain a few days ago," he began in that same low voice. "Did anything about it seem...unusual? Did anything or anyone appear to you amidst it?"

Adar knew immediately that Sauron meant his lady. How could he not? Regardless, he did what he always did when he guarded that last private bastion of his heart. He steeled his nerve and looked into the eyes of the deceiver.

"No. There was nothing more than poison rain," he replied in his dehydration-ravaged rasp of a voice. Every syllable should have hurt, but it did not, nor did he look away from Sauron's face. He did not flinch from the evil before him, daring it to call him a liar. If he received a punishment for hiding knowledge of her existence from the darkness, so be it. She was worth it. She was worth more than his life ever was.

With the snap of his fingers, however, Sauron released his bonds. The chains fell away with a loud, metallic clank, and Adar collapsed forward. His arms had been held at such an extreme angle for so many days that at first he could not move them. With patience and no small amount of pain, he managed to get to his knees. When he straightened, Adar found Sauron offering him the goblet.

"Drink. You have earned it," he said in that saccharine voice. The wine was as red as a blood moon. Almost too red.

On that dark and nameless peak, Adar drank it all down to the last drop. He relished it, though the taste was foul like everything else in this horrid land.

As he and the others followed Sauron down from the top of the mountain, he allowed himself the smallest moment to contemplate what she'd said. If he truly possessed strength unknown to the forces of darkness, then he would keep that knowledge a secret for as long as he could. He would not disappoint her by showing his hand too early.

--

After that fateful reunion, Adar's lady returned to him several times, shrouded by that same light-filled rain, or mist when they were in the subterranean parts of Utumno. Their meetings were short, but so desperately needed if their physical closeness was anything by which to judge. Many times they huddled together in out of the way passages and little known crevices.

Over time, he came to know that she was more than one of the Maia yet less than one of the Valar. She'd earned her own title: the Lady of Reflections. Shining light into the dark parts of one's soul and helping the viewer to learn from what they saw, she'd earned the respect of leaders from nearly every race in Middle Earth. Dwarves called her friend, Elves listened to her council with measured wisdom, and Men...well, as Men were more corruptible than others, they often feared her as much as they valued her advice.

No wonder Adar had felt as though she could see the depths of his fëa! The day she revealed to him the facts of her nature, he'd looked away from her, ashamed of what she must see within him. The Uruk surely disgusted her, or so he thought. Gently, she had pulled him into a hug, whispering reassurances against his neck as if she actually cared about someone as broken as he.

He did not pull away, though. Adar was not strong enough for that. He needed her, no matter how horrid he might be to her. She called him beautiful and gentle, and though he did not take those words to heart, her attempt to make him feel better still forced a blush onto his cheeks and up to the tips of his ears.

She laid soft kisses across his burning skin and called him sweet, which only made his reaction more pronounced. Thankfully, she'd allowed him to hide his face in the crook of her neck.

Those moments were peppered through the decades, brief, pleasant memories with which Adar sustained himself. Not long after that night on the peak, however, the War of Wrath began, and their meetings became more sporadic.

The air and ground shook with the rage of the Valar as they fought their enemy upon every front. From Utumno, Morgoth's armies made of monsters, Balrogs, unnamed evils, and Uruks poured forth. Morgoth never seemed to care for the fates of Adar's children, although truthfully, he never expected the dark lord to. He'd used torture to create them, so what would their pain mean to him?

After a particularly brutal loss, Adar took the punishment meant for his children. Morgoth had blamed them, though the loss was not their fault, and Adar could not let them face the horror of their master's wroth. Stepping bravely forward, he claimed responsibility for their actions as both their commander and their father. He insisted that he, instead, should take their punishment.

He expected to be killed for such insolence, but Morgoth had something more sadistic in mind.

Adar was stripped, flogged until his already-scarred back was in tatters, paraded through the camp in shame, and tossed upon the ground before his tent. He couldn't remember doing it, but he managed to crawl his way to his sleep roll and collapse onto his front. It could have taken minutes or hours, but he managed it. His eyes shut, and he did not expect to open them again. The pain radiating through Adar's back kept him from sleep, but he did slip into a deep, nearly meditative state.

Tears dripped slowly down his cheeks, and in a breath he expected to be his last, he whispered her name - his lady's name. He'd kept it locked up so tightly in his chest that this utterance carried more weight than even that of his love for her. Even if he could not see her again before the end, he could at least savor the taste of her name one last time. Would she ever know that his last thoughts were of her?

He should have told her how much he loved her before all of this began. Coward. He was a foolish Elf, then a cowardly Uruk. There was so much he'd never done.

As he remembered the river, the poetry, and the light of her eyes upon the peak of the desolate mountain upon which she'd found him, he lost consciousness.

--

His call did not seem real at first. A whisper across miles and consciousness, Adar's voice had sounded weak - a barely there plea for help. She'd been taking counsel with her father, the Lord of the Tides, when she heard his voice.

She did not hesitate, leaving in the middle of a sentence with barely an apology. Her rain fell with a vengeance when she entered Morgoth's encampment, creating muddy puddles in the trenches and cart ruts. Her armor gleamed in the darkness above her dress, her boots leaving behind nary a footprint in her wake.

Very few Uruks could see her to begin with, and all who did that day saw an incalculable rage in her eyes as she stalked through the lines, looking for their Lord Father. One very brave soul made his way to her and bowed low, stopping her in her tracks.

"C-Can I help you, my lady?" He asked, and she cocked her head curiously.

"What is your name?" Calm and soothing, her voice alleviated some of his fears as he straightened his posture. No wonder Adar never refused her company when she appeared in their camp.

"Gulug, my lady," he said looking upon her with wonder. He'd never seen eyes that gleamed and glowed like hers. The Uruk removed the cloth covering his head, clutching it between his clawed fingers like a Man would with his hat.

"It is an honor to meet you. Would you take me to Adar? It is urgent."

The Uruk acquiesced without hesitation, bowing again slightly before leading her toward the Moriondor's tent.

"I should warn you, my lady. The dark lord was not happy. He was going to take out his anger on us, but Lord Father drew his gaze away," Gulug muttered as they shuffled through the gloom. Shame filled his voice. "He took the punishment for us."

The Maia placed her hand gently upon the Uruk's shoulder when they reached their destination.

"Your Lord Father loves you very much. Please, for Adar's sake, do not tell anyone that I was here," she murmured, and because her gaze was so earnest, Gulug agreed easily. She began to move away, but he caught her hand in his, making her turn back to look at him curiously.

"Who are you, my lady?" He asked, and she offered him a small smile.

"The Lady of Reflections. A friend who now owes you a debt," she answered. "Should you or your descendants need assistance, they need only mention your name. If it is within my power, I shall help. You will know when the time is right."

Gulug released her arm and bowed low, thanking her several times before she disappeared into Adar's tent. The rain felt much more welcoming when he'd met its maker, even if its presence never failed to send Morgoth into a rage since he could not perceive its source.

--

When he woke, Adar believed that he was dead. How could he be alive after what he'd experienced? And why would gentle fingers be skimming through his hair, smoothing away the tangles and lingering upon the nape of his neck?

Fear, belated yet potent, stirred within his breast, urging him to try and lift his aching body out of harm's way. When he began to move, his back protested instantly, and he whimpered in pain.

"Stay still. Moving will only hurt you," a voice murmured above him, and Adar's eyes flew open. Beside him knelt the Maia with whom he'd fallen so desperately in love. "I have not been here long. You called out to me so faintly, I thought I would be too late."

Adar struggled to make his tongue form the correct words.

"I...am still alive?" He tried to keep the disappointment out of his voice, but from the sad expression that crossed his lady's face, he knew he had failed.

"You are, and for that I give my most heartfelt thanks to the Valar," she answered as her fingertips traced the sharp curve of his cheekbone and jawline.

"I am sorry. I should not have...You do not deserve to see such carnage," Adar rasped as regret twisted within him. "You are made for sunlight and trees and dancing, not watching corrupted beings suffer. Forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive." Her voice was so warm and steadfast that Adar believed her. Despite all his doubts and fears, he believed her. "I am grateful that you called me."

"Please...do not leave me," he whispered, needing her courage to supplement his own. He sounded like a frightened child, and he would not have scoffed at the comparison. Despite the rain pattering a constant, soothing rhythm against the cloth of his tent, none of it leaked through.

"Hush, meldanya," she breathed. "I am here, and I am going nowhere."

She laid her hand on the ruined plane of his back, and the single jolt of agony he felt disappeared as quickly as it came. Light filled his tent, reflecting off the surface of her gleaming, discarded armor and caressing his skin in liquid trickles of respite.

A sob of relief tore from him when the pain stopped. His eyes fell shut again as his body trembled, and he reached his hand out until he grasped the edge of her dress. The light, beautiful fabric flowed over his fingertips, and for a single moment he was there, again, at the river bend.

A dull thud beside him pulled him back to the present...to the battlefield and his tent. Adar opened his eyes. His lady had collapsed beside him, blood seeping through the back of her dress. It took him a moment to comprehend what he was seeing.

She'd taken his injuries. With whatever power her light possessed, she had taken his pain and his wounds and replaced them with comfort, marring her own back in the process.

"No," he rasped, forcing himself to move despite the persistent ache of exhaustion in his limbs. He shifted onto the floor beside her, caressing her cheek as he watched her dress bloom a horrible, undeserved red. "No, no, meldanya, what have you done?"

Quickly, he laid her atop his bedroll and started tending to her as he would anyone else who was injured. Carefully pulling away the fabric covering her back, he realized he knew more about her injuries than most who attempted to heal their patients. He was intimately familiar with every gash. He knew which parts would hurt her most, and gathered what meager healing supplies he had. Before he could apply his admittedly rushed treatment, however, she caught his hand and whispered his name.

He startled at her abrupt return to consciousness but turned his attention to her lips instead.

"Peace. Still your hands and calm your frantic mind," she murmured, and at the small smile she offered him, he forced himself to relax. "Watch."

Obeying her command, Adar turned his gaze to her poor back and noted with shock that already the skin was knitting itself together. To his horror, however, it was healing how his own wounds did - with knots and whorls, raised ridges and hollow divots which spoke the unique language of pain. The smooth canvas of her back had become a map of scars illustrating the cruelty and rage of the Uruk's master.

"You should not have done this. Not for me. I sought the darkness, I am not worthy of such a gift," he breathed without real thought. Every word was true, and though he was the one who had taken the beating, she still bore consequences which she should never have encountered. "You should not have wasted such grace on me. I could never repay such a kindness. I will spend the rest of my time trying to find a way, nonetheless, I swear it."

She pushed herself up on her forearms until she was kneeling before him. There was certainly an urge to allow his gaze to slip down to her exposed chest, but he was no monster, despite his scars. Her dress had fallen as she'd lifted herself up, but she obviously did not care. Why should she? She was exquisite in every conceivable way. Adar knew, though, that after what she'd done for him, she likely would not appreciate his gaze roving where it ought not.

Instead, he focused squarely on her face. Already she looked healthier than the moment before, but she now wore a concerned frown.

Was everything that she did beautiful?

"Adar...darling, I did not do this with the intent of seeking repayment. It is a gift for one whom I treasure...who has been with me always." Her small, gentle hands reached for him, but before she could touch him, Adar caught them in her grasp and began covering her fingers in kisses. His dark blood had dried in the bends of her knuckles and the lines of her palms.

Only upon tasting salt did he realize that his tears had escaped down his cheeks. When he finally lifted his head and chanced a glance at her he found himself entranced. Her eyes were the reflection of morning light upon the sea, turbulent and calm in turns. Her heart was both stout and gentle, and he deserved not one flicker of her attention. But, still she showered him with it. How she tolerated his folly, he knew not–

Soft, unmarred lips met his in the midst of his self-pity, and the Uruk's mind ceased to churn beyond the wondrous realization that she was kissing him. In the darkest depths of the world, she had deemed him worthy of both her help and her affection.

He realized a moment too late that he'd frozen in place at the contact, and when she pulled away, panic bloomed in his chest. She looked at him curiously, but before she could back away farther, Adar cupped her cheeks and kissed her just like he'd wanted to since the day they met. She was the apple of his eye, his most precious desire.

Feeling her melt into his arms was a pleasure he'd never expected to experience, but he did. He would treasure it for the rest of his days.

She shuffled close enough that her chest pressed against his, and animalistic triumph roared in his chest. He'd hungered for her for so long, but despite the impatience in his Uruk nature, he'd never push her further than she was prepared to go. After all, Adar loved her. Love was gentle. For he, he would be too. He steadied her with a careful grip on her bare waist, even though he felt anything but steady himself.

The rain continued on through the night, heavy enough for the pair to eventually lie down and fall asleep safely wrapped in each other's arms. She would have to leave in the morning, but for the moment, Adar savored her closeness.

For once, the scars on his nude body did not trouble him. How could they when she traced them so carefully with her fingertips?

~*~*~

Elvish Words (Quenya):

melda heri - beloved lady

Elen síla lúmenn’ omentielvo, heru Adar. - A star shines on the hour of our meeting, lord Adar.

Cauma - protection

Black Speech:

agh burzum-ishi krimpatul - and in the darkness bind them

~*~

Taglist:

@asksizworld @bigblissandlove1 @gandalfthepimp @horta-in-charge @zoya-olenko

[bluerose5]

Beyond the Loss

Shalibrations prompt from discord for Garrus and Shepard comforting Tali during/after her loyalty mission.

~~~

Tali didn't know how to feel.

So many emotions were running through her. Her thoughts amassed into a flurry of unending noise. She wanted so badly to let loose a scream at the top of her lungs, but all of her energy had been sapped clean from her body.

When all else felt uncertain, she found comfort in that which was familiar.

She sat upon the floor in Engineering, staring at the drive core while it pulsed, the Normandy's quiet yet steady heartbeat.

At one time in her life, she thought the ship —the original ship— to be too quiet for her tastes. She could remember how uneasy she was at first, her instincts crying out that something was broken or damaged.

Then, she grew to love the ship and its silence, just as she grew to love its crew.

So many of them were lost to her.

And now, her father was gone too, all because he was trying to take back their homeworld. For her.

Tears fell down her face as she stared unseeingly into the distance. She tried hard to come up with new ideas for the ship, ways to improve its systems, but those were empty distractions at best.

She had lost so much. She just wanted the pain to stop.

When Tali heard the doors to Engineering hiss open, she frowned.

Without looking away from the drive core, she called out, "I thought that I told you two that I want to be alone!"

"Damn," Jane replied. "Are we that predictable?"

Two pairs of footsteps approached, but Tali simply hugged her legs closer to her body, the side of her helmet resting upon her knees.

She didn't bother meeting their eyes.

"I told Gabby and Ken that I needed time to myself," she huffed. "I guess it was too much to hope that the locked doors would deter you."

"If you truly want us to go, then we will," Jane assured her. There was shuffling and the slight creak of weary joints as Jane knelt before her.

Garrus plopped down at her side with way less grace, but his presence was a welcome comfort nonetheless.

"But we have a feeling that you don't actually want that," he whispered, the flanging of his voice reverberating in an attempt to comfort. "You shouldn't have to be alone right now. We should get through this as we always have. Together."

A lump got stuck in Tali's throat, choked up on all of the emotions lingering in the air.

There was a time when they weren't together, though.

Both of them had already lost Shepard once, and they saw how well that worked out.

Her father's death only reminded her how fragile life truly was. How even the strongest of them could be there one second, then gone in the next.

Maybe her behavior wasn't that befitting of an admiral's daughter, but she couldn't care at the moment.

Right then, she was simply a daughter who lost her father. A woman, who only two years prior lost one of the greatest people in the galaxy that she had known.

There was always the possibility that she could lose her again.

If this mission through the Omega-4 Relay didn't go exactly as planned, then she could lose them both. Both Garrus and Shepard. The ones who were there for her since the beginning.

Pain radiated throughout her chest.

She was so tired.

It took its toll, always having to be strong in front of others.

For once, she let her emotions guide her. She launched herself into Shepard’s arms without warning; but, while initially shocked by Tali's actions, Jane instantly wrapped her up into a warm embrace.

Tali buried her face mask into the crook of Jane's neck, then released a shuddering breath.

For once, she let herself be vulnerable, all alone with the two people she trusted above all others on that ship.

Her voice broke when she spoke.

"I want you both to stay," she whispered, her tone tiny when faced with the day's horrific onslaught of news. "Don't go."

"We're right here, Tali," Jane assured her, squeezing tightly, as if she would never let her go.

Oh, how Tali wished that to be true.

"We're not going anywhere," Garrus agreed, "not unless you ask us to."

Tali shook her head at the thought.

"No, I want you to stay," she said, more certain, resolute. "I–I can't lose you two."

Jane and Garrus exchanged a pointed glance over her head, but their silence only made her panic spike even more.

Holding Shepard close, as if her very life depended on it, she repeated, “I can’t lose you. Not again. Either of you.”

It didn’t help that, in his grief, Garrus disappeared without a trace. Tali felt his loss as well during those past two years. It was hard to ignore his absence when he left no messages indicating his whereabouts, no explanation. How often did she turn to her side, expecting to talk shop with him, only to feel disappointment when she was reminded that he was gone.

Up until recently, she hadn’t even been certain that he was alive, part of her worrying that he had run off and gotten himself killed.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Garrus murmured. He shuffled his way over and hugged them both. “You won’t. We’re not going anywhere.”

“With what we’re up against, you can’t promise me that.”

“We just did,” Jane stated. She pulled slightly away, just enough so that she could meet Tali’s eyes while she talked. “And we’re going to keep that promise, okay? Your father might not have survived to give you that house on the homeworld, but we can still hold onto that promise and carry it out for him.”

“That’s a tall order for you to fill,” Tali mumbled.

“I think I speak for both of us,” Garrus told her, “when I say that we like a challenge.”

Tali gave a watery laugh, knowing from experience that there was some truth to those words.

Even then, it took little for that fragile laugh to fracture into painful sobs, the foundation of her composure slowly but surely slipping out from under her.

Thankfully, they didn’t judge her. They didn’t try to stop her or offer worthless platitudes.

Instead, they held her, and they let her cry in their arms.

They offered her their presence, and that was enough for her.

By the time she had quieted down to mere sniffles, she could confidently say that she felt somewhat better. Not whole, not by any means, but better.

It was a step in the right direction, at least.

Jane pressed a soft kiss to the top of her helmet, and Tali spared her a weary smile.

“Thanks, you two.”

“No thanks necessary,” Garrus said. “Always happy to help.”

“That, we are,” Jane agreed, shifting in place. “Now, I don’t know about the two of you, but I think that this day calls for a pile of blankets back in my quarters, some snacks, some drinks, and a whole bunch of movies.”

Of course, Tali instantly perked up at that.

“Oh! Can we watch Fleet and Flotilla?” she asked. Widening her eyes beyond the mask, she clasped her hands together as she stared up at Jane, knowing well enough that Shepard couldn’t resist that expression. “Please?”

Garrus already knew that Jane was a goner then, not that he had planned on actually protesting the request, but he loved to tease Tali about her fascination with that movie regardless.

“Ugh, again?” he asked. One playful glare from Jane was all that was needed to straighten him out, though. “Alright. Whatever you want, Tali.” As they got to their feet, he flared his mandibles out into a slight grin. “I might have even picked up some graxen when we were last on the Citadel.”

Tali gasps, “You did not! You’ve been holding out all this time?”

“I wonder why,” he deadpanned.

“Can’t have anything to do with a certain quarian who always steals his snacks,” Jane joked.

“Sharing is caring, or so the humans say,” Tali chuckled. She poked Garrus in his side. “I fully expect you to share, Vakarian.”

“For you, I think I could spare a little.”

As they continued to bicker on the way to the elevator, Tali savored the warmth that started to blossom, working to overtake the cold that had threatened to take root.

While things might not have been perfect at the moment, she was certain that life would get better. The storm wouldn’t last forever. One day, she would bathe in the sunlight at the start of a new day.

And she had faith that, with Garrus and Jane at her side, they could get through anything.

[gasolinerainbowpuddles]

𝕗𝕚𝕔𝕤 𝕀'𝕞 𝕔𝕦𝕣𝕣𝕖𝕟𝕥𝕝𝕪 𝕣𝕖𝕒𝕕𝕚𝕟𝕘/𝕗𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕠𝕨𝕚𝕟𝕘:

I'm thinking about making a sideblog where I can list all my current faves, but for now ...

Go check out all these lovely fics!

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: SURRENDER 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): joel miller x ofc daisy 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @ezrasbirdie 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "Weeks after the events in Kansas City, Joel and Ellie stumble across a woman lost in the Nebraska wilderness. With her knack for foraging and unending patience for Ellie's ceaseless questions, Daisy quickly becomes an asset on their journey. But between Joel's capriciousness towards her presence and Ellie's fierce loyalty to her guardian, she can't help but question her place with her new companions--especially when she catches Joel's gaze lingering more and more when he thinks she isn't looking."

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: FEELINGS ON FIRE 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): joel miller x f!reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @joelscruff 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "you're back from college for the summer, staying with your devout catholic parents in your childhood home while they order you around and try to keep authority over you. as an act of rebellion you ask your new neighbor mr. miller to teach you how to play guitar, but it turns out there's a lot more he wants to teach you. no outbreak, no use of y/n."

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: ADVERSITY (western AU) 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): Frankie Morales x Ezra x Fem!Virgin!Reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @the-ginger-hedge-witch 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "On your own and far from the home you once knew, you find unlikely allies right when you least expect them and soon learn that they have plenty to teach you."

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: SHORT DAYS, LONG NIGHTS 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): Joel Miller x f!reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @frannyzooey 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "Part of a band of travelers, your party is slowly picked off one by one, until there are only two of you left. Finding an abandoned cabin in the woods, you decide to make camp there until you figure out your next move. As the seasons change, the nights get longer and longer…"

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: APOTHECARY - A JOEL MILLER STORY 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): joel miller x witchy!reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @atinylittlepain 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "joel becomes curious about the woman running the medicine shop in Jackson, and the strange rumors swirling around her."

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: TAKE CARE OF YOU 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): Sugar Daddy!Joel Miller x Female!Reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @theidiotwhowritesthings 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "You spent your entire adult life supporting yourself and barely getting by. It’s why a life of ease offered to you by a mysterious stranger sounded so foreign and unbelievable. Joel Miller, dressed in flannels that had seen better days, didn’t look like the kind who could promise you the world on a plate, but he seemed desperate to help out. All he asks is that you let him take care of you. That wouldn’t be so hard. Would it?"

𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝓃𝒶𝓂𝑒: A SAFE HAVEN 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔(𝓈): Joel Miller x Female Reader 𝒻𝒾𝒸 𝒶𝓊𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓇: @pedgeitopascal 𝓈𝓎𝓃𝑜𝓅𝓈𝒾𝓈: "When Joel and Ellie make their return back to Jackson, Wyoming to begin a new life, the last thing Joel expects is to catch the eye of the community's veterinarian. Young, beautiful, and married, you are exactly the type of woman that he should stay away from, but Joel can't help but be drawn to you like a moth to a flame. As you grow closer to both Joel and Ellie, you begin to learn all about the secrets they both carry—and they find out that you've been hiding a few secrets of your own."

[haggishlyhagging]

Mike and Kris invited the children and me to their house for Thanksgiving dinner, along with another couple from the ward and the missionaries. When we arrived, none of the others had. I asked, "Where are the Thornleys? Where are the missionaries?" They both looked awkward and embarrassed. "They’re not coming," I answered for them, "because of me." "Sister Thornley felt she just couldn't be here with you," they confessed.

I was sorry to have spoiled their Thanksgiving. But they were kind about it, and tried to take my mind off the missing celebrants. It was hard to stop thinking of Sister Thornley, though. She had been my visiting teacher. She had also been the cultural refinement teacher for the morning Relief Society, as I was for the evening, and we had often exchanged ideas and materials and taught for each other. I did not know then what I was told later, that one of my former best friends in the ward was encouraging my sisters to have nothing to do with me. Her father had once told her to shun all "enemies of the church." She was spreading the rumor that Kris, because of her association with me, was possessed of the devil, and that that was a definite likelihood for anyone who got too near me. Linda Andros, my visiting teaching partner, was very close to this friend and had called me a week or two earlier to tell me she could not go visiting teaching with me anymore because she had been "reassigned." At the time, I thought it was her husband who had persuaded her to shun me (and it is likely he did as well), but I think most of it was my "friend," my good "Christian" friend, who studies the scriptures constantly. (What has she learned from them?)

So my very conventional, very obedient, very anti-ERA, very role-oriented visiting teacher, Sister Thornley, would not join me and my innocent children for Thanksgiving dinner. But a few months later, i discovered that we were bound by more than held us apart: her husband also left her and her four children for a younger woman. I wanted to say to her, it happens to women on all sides of all issues. It has nothing to do with being anti- or pro-ERA, being a feminist or a traditional woman. It is the patriarchy at work, and it works against all women. It works even harder against you who are so loyal to it because it leaves so many of you unable to fend for yourselves economically, because it leaves you blaming yourselves, not knowing that men are just cashing in on the sweet promise of unending female arms outstretched to comfort them. Patriarchy says all women are commodities—not just feminists.

In this way, all women are bound to one another: we are all the objects of the same outrageous mockery of real love. But I am sure Sister Thornley still feels more loyalty to men than to any living woman, including herself, and is searching for another man to make it legitimate for her to live upon the earth. Because she thinks that not to be approved of by men means that she cannot survive in this world. The taboo is very deep and very powerful, and a cause of immeasurable suffering.

-Sonia Johnson, From Housewife to Heretic

[liroyalty]

The three Dracul daughter’s ‘age rank’ is basically determinate by the order in which they were turned, regardless of their actual or physical age, though it just so happens to line up well with their physical ages. They also were all turned while they were standing at death’s door step. These are their backstories:

Lucretia was the first one turned by Suzan, at around 23 years old. She was the daughter of a poor man that lived on the island & was sold off to an rich, but abusive man who needed a 'tropey wife' at 16. She was supposedly being 'scouted' by her future husband as young as 14 however, as she remembers seeing her former husband's face years before their marriage. Her husband’s abuse eventually became to much, after the two of them got into an argument while they were headed home in their carriage, & she was thrown out of their carriage & left, now bruised & bloodied, to die. Suzan found Lucretia moments before she died, in which the dying girl begged the vampire queen to save her, swearing her life & loyalty to her in return.

Xena was the second one turned, on the day just after her 18th birthday. Xena came from a wealthy family on the island. She was the eldest of 5 children & the only girl, she was often the subject of bullying by her brothers, who treated her more as a object then a person. It was the oldest brother, the secondborn of the family & only but a year younger then Xena, whom had stabbed her one day in the chest when he learned that she was going to inherit the family’s wealth & not him; seeing her as nothing else but a obstacle in her path. He disposed of Xena’s body in a river at the back of their manorhouse, in which Suzan found her as she started floating down stream & saved her by turning her in the last possible moment. The experience also turned her hair white.

Fiona was the third one turned, at the young age of 12. Fiona was an ‘oopsy baby’ born to alcoholic father & enabling mother. Her father physically abused both Fiona & her mother regularly. It eventually reached a point where both Fiona & her mother would often have bones broken or open wounds. Eventually, it reached a boiling point, where the father finally snapped, beating his wife to death, before switching his unending rage towards his daughter. In the middle of such, is when Suzan showed up, alerted by the screaming, killing the father & saving Fiona from her wounds by turning her. Fiona doesn’t remember seeing her mother die, as her brain has blocked out the memory, & actually believes Suzan to be her real mother. Neither Suzan or the other two daughters have it in them to tell her the truth, so they allow her to continue to believe the lie.

As you can see, all of the daughter’s backstories involve being hurt & betrayed by men, so their obvious sexisms towards the male gender is a bit understandable, though still not mortally okay.

[blissfulanguish]

the baby's currently asleep swaddled in shrike's arms. it's a miracle she didn't wake up when he took her from the crib (or the conversation that came before that). "you can hold her," shrike murmurs, stroking his thumb over the blue peach-fuzz crowning her head before handing her over. "watch her head." said more out of habit than a lack of trust.

and that's when ramiel wakes up; a squirm and stretch of limbs. deep brown eyes blinking open. she stares up at legato in silence, owlish expression growing more and more confused.

... then she starts crying. / @butchersbird (WOAH . BABY BE UPON YE)

If someone had told him he'd sire a child in the past, he would have killed them on principle. Why ruin another life by bringing them up in this hellish, chaotic wasteland?

After everything, all of the personal details he'd actually shared about his background, why would Shrike endanger himself and their child like this. It was a difficult exchange to sit through, he mostly said nothing. He tried to listen, to be patient.

It hadn't been fair, but he'd said a few unkind things. If the baby in question looked anything like he did... it probably would have been a mercy to simply kill her. Out of all the things that Shrike could have done, just up and leaving without any form of protection or plan was just-

"watch her head."

Legato doesn't have to look twice and his heart drops out of his chest, beneath his feet, and sinks somewhere into the core of the planet. If only Ramiel had taken more after his partner, she could have had a fighting chance. His despair is unquantified. He moves almost robotically, fearful golden eyes haunted by his own appearance staring back at him as he gently cradles the infant in the crook of his arm and against his chest.

The first few sleepy grunts begin to turn to cries and he nearly shoves the child back into Shrike's arms, looking both confused and terrified. Instead he repositions the swaddled blanket surrounding the child, making sure to support the back of her tiny neck and begins to murmur softly- just reassurances and sweet promises that everything was going to be alright.

But would it? How could it be?

Someone would come and take her- They always did.

After everything, the constant unending humiliation and dehumanization, the only thing that had kept him from just biting his own tongue off and bleeding to death had been his anger. His spite. The hope that one day, he might be able to enact revenge, then he'd be free of this rotten excuse for a life.

He couldn't- Would NOT let her go through what he did, ever. He would kill everyone before letting them take her.

"Did you even stop to think about what this could mean, for her? Just running away isn't good enough. They'll hunt her down, they'll-"

He stops himself, biting down against his lower lip until blood blooms against his tongue.

"She's innocent. Light, pure, and free of all the filth and sin. They'll do anything, pay anything... You don't understand how valuable she is to those disgusting pigs, you don't understand-"

His voice breaks, feels a crack splitting open in an otherwise obdurate foundation of faith and loyalty. He's quiet, hot tears spilling down the harsh angles of his cheekbones as a vehement fire rages to life within the cage of his ribs.

"Right now, today, tomorrow- She takes priority. She's our responsibility. Everything else doesn't matter."

He stares down at Ramiel- watching in fascination as her tiny, perfect fingers try to grasp at his hair.

"None of it matters, just... her."

[gildedwar]

Theseus dnd au below the cut

It took a prophecy to birth Theseus Argent of Waterdeep, the words of an Oracle were the only way his dear father could spawn an heir. “Do not loosen the bulging mouth of the wineskin until you have reached the heights of The Sword Mountains, lest you die of grief.” He didn’t understand the prophecy, but a friend, a fellow noble did. A team is made and an expedition set; at the tops of the mountain they celebrate, and the wine flows.

Nine months later, he is born. With hair that shines with hidden highlights of gold within blonde hair, floating as though floating with a gentle wind that was not truly there. Blessed with unending charisma and looks enough to attract even the most striking of people.

His father, Aegeus Phylund was born of a Human and an Air Genasi. His mother, Aethra Argent; a human with Aasimar blood thrumming through her veins. Both Waterdhavian Nobles. His mother was lovely, favoring the human aspect of her blood enough to blend in with her family. Her golden locks glitter, her smile captivating. A kind soul, one that guided Theseus through his childhood with patient hands and kind smiles. Healing kisses upon the scuffs of childhood. It was through her that he came to understand the world, his. 

He grows, and with him so goes his strength. He swears to the life of a paladin and yet he does not swear to the god of his family, but instead the goddess Sune, a woman that an oracle advised him to seek. He agrees with what she stands for, beauty, and love; upholding her values, and being a hand of helping rather than being a force of destruction. His oath is sworn for loyalty, though his loyalty is to his peers, and his want for justice and order. Fairness. He would never betray those he makes a promise to, for that he was certain.

He'd become something of a hometown hero to the small congregations of people that surround Waterdeep, taking on raiders and creatures that bother farms and those that can't defend themselves. His family is pleased, and he is pleased as well. He finds it fulfilling when they show their thankfulness when they join hands with smiles and trinkets; all they had they had said.

"You need not to give me anything," he tells them back, but he accepts them with kind words.

It wasn’t until he was a Paladin with a sworn oath that he was told of his father, the other side of his family that went beyond the angelic duties of his family. Monster hunters, tamers, slayers. All of the above strikes his interest, in a home that was so inclined to their disgust in fiends. What was a fiend if not a monster? He’d become a paladin with the intent to smite evil off the planet, but the ability to tame evil? To use it for good? He can’t wait to be sent off.

He goes on his adventure, each threat slain as his angelic guide instructs. The influence of Sune is visible in the spear he wields, a gift blessed from the goddess herself, pink and blazing with the channeling of her divinity, in the shield he defends those weaker with, blocking attacks. Where he goes he partakes in her ideals, among taverns with lovely people. Much like his Patroness, he had many loves but never did he stay long, leaving a trail of broken arrows behind him.

It's only when he arrives at his destination that things begin to take a turn, his life, and perspective on good and evil skewing. 

A minotaur, the supposedly vile creature he'd been sent to find; with the intent to bring him back dead or alive. His father's family wanted to add such a beast to their home hunting area. Or perhaps he was one they intended to sway to their side with the promise of food, shelter, and safety in exchange for its cooperation and defense.

However, things are far different once he comes into contact with him.

When he arrives, it's in an unfair fight, a handful of men against an already injured bull. Theseus' presence is felt immediately, light shining from his person like a beacon of the gods themselves. Wings had sprouted from his shoulders, and he looked like an extension of the heavens, an angel in mortal form. When the bull gazes up at him, he can see a shift in its disposition, something like hope appearing in his big brown eyes.

He thinks Theseus is here to save him, the Aasimar realizes. Looking at the opponents of the minotaur, he feels no love for them, horned friends with reddened skin. Tieflings. Perhaps it was his blood that made him abhor the children of hell, or perhaps his upbringing. Regardless, he finds himself swayed more toward the defenders' side, and in a split moment his entire view of the situation shifts.

The paladin now is here for the barbarian.

The Bull had been fighting a losing fight, succumbing to many enemies but the tides of battle change as Theseus joins the fray. Together they slay the party sent by his paternal side of the family, and Theseus swears his oath to the supposed beast, one binding them together. They become partners then as their hands' clasp, as life flows from the angelic man to the injured monster. 

He did not seem like a monster to Theseus, a fact that has his patron gleeful and his angelic guide furious. Sune would not have forgiven him for destroying something beautiful, and his new partner was certainly something of beauty with his large eyes, fanned by long curled lashes, and his deep rumbling voice. If he were a simple oxen he would surely have been revered for his coat that glitters in the sun like blackened brass.

The minotaur would stay with him until his debt was paid, Theseus had saved his life. Bound now by this new bond, they join forces and what a force they become. It is only Theseus' word and good standing that keeps the bull, a lovely man by the name of Asterius, safe. People are distrustful initially of the hulking man, fearful because of what stories are told. Theseus imagines it must be difficult to be the monster that parents warn their children of, especially when in the radiant light of his halo. Yet it doesn't darken his presence, it only helps him to assimilate into society.

Together they grow, they fight, and they slay. Their original deal seems to melt away, instead, the bond of battle and friendship keeps them by one another's side. Funny how safe one can feel next to the perceived monster, and how safe a monster could feel beside a being that many would have anticipated to slay him. Theseus could not imagine doing such a thing, he'd learned on that first mission that many times, the monsters are the hunters, not the hunted. 

The two only grow in their popularity, making tides as they become akin to legends. A peer of the gods, they call Theseus. A monster turned hero, they call Asterius. They become a powerhouse of a team, and their names are known far and wide by the time they grow into themselves. Still, they adventure, but as they age they find that it is quite difficult to find such a challenge, and amongst Waterdeep, many heroes reside. They end up recruited into an arena, Gladiators that stand against the challenge of any. They still have yet to lose, though there is one who returns frequently, and who seems to be giving them a run for their money. 

[raven-6-10]

@a-world-in-grey @secret-engima

Ok, let's tackle this :)

***

Sola's reaction to Nox is gold. She just skipped past the surprise and straight to the acceptance. You are now her New Brother! She will feed you and hug you and love you! There will be no escape!

***

Did Sola ask how exactly Nox is related to the Chancellor? Or did she just hear Izunia and didn't care to find out more?

I'm guessing that right now they don't know Ardyn is also a Lucis Caelum. Might make an interesting reveal in the future.

***

You do realise that you just managed to completely derail the Marilith attack, right? Because right now all Nox has to do is to call his sister a day before and inform her that Nifs transported a Marilith to Lucis. Straight from Besithia's labs, with instructions to unleash it on the royal convoy.

Noctis' birthday trip is going to be cancelled at the last second. But hey! At least he's spared the injuries and trauma.

***

Regis was not happy when his daughter just up and disappeared from the middle of Citadel. He's even less happy when the Crystal shows him where she's right now. And then.

Well.

He certainly did not expect Nox, for sure. And there is no mistaking those features, even before his son brings out the magic and the armiger.

But his reaction to Nox' surname! Oh, it will go down in history! Cor will be bringing it up for ages :) Because when Nox revealed his surname, Regis sounded like somebody stepped on one of those squeaky toys. And that's before Clarus started to glare at him!

(Regis is going to spend several next weeks desperately trying to remember all his exes and their names. Because if he has two ooops kids already, then he clearly wasn't careful enough and there might be more running around)

*

*

If Sola with Nox had Fun, then Sola with Little Nox is a Stress!

She did not sign up for this, universe! She wants a fucking refund!

She was ready to kill a couple of gods when she thought it would be just Noctis against her. Once she learned about Nox. Well. Materia better start running very fast, because Sola will show no mercy.

***

Sola's reaction to Ardyn and his reaction to her are just so full of feels.

Because on one side you have Sola who is very much unlike any other person in her immediate family and intimately aware of this fact. And even if she doesn't normally show it, something like that certainly leaves impression on her. It will influence how she interacts with other people, how much of herself can she really show them.

And you have Ardyn whose only positive interactions in the last two years were Nox and Axis. Before than it was just decades of scheming in Niflheimr court and Besithia's creepy experiments. Centuries of imprisonment with only the sound of his own screams for company. And being betrayed by the only family he had left in the world.

Yeah, Ardyn is a Mess.

And even if Sola doesn't know the details, will never know all the details, she knows he's family. And she accepts him and wants to help.

(She just won Ardyn's unending loyalty. And neither of them knows it yet.)

***

Poor Noctis and Nox. Neither one is prepared for this. Neither one should even be there, except that Materia messed up her summons.

So now there are two little kids on the battlefield. And even if everyone else on their team is trying their best to protect those two, it's not going to be enough to spare them nightmares.

***

Would Sola think that her Papa had Nox the normal way, at least before Ardyn explained? Would Ardyn even explain the clone thing to Sola?

Similarly, how much of Ardyn's supposed past with Mors was mentioned? Both before and after Sola saw the scars?

***

Sola asking if they have a safe place to stay is just heartbreaking. Because she knows that Ardyn does not trust her Papa, might never bring himself to trust her Papa. And she will not ask him to do this.

No matter how much she wants to keep her family close, she will not insist on Ardyn meeting Regis. Even if it means she will not see him or Nox again. Because Ardyn deserves better after everything that happened to him (after everything that Mors did).

***

Ok, I'm imagining it :)

Their reactions to Ardyn and Nox are going to be so, so funny.

Btw, did they figure out Nox is a clone on their own? Or had to hear Ardyn's explanation?

***

Ok, I will bite. How does it get worse?

Well, since you said it's okay :)

Nox verse crossover! Specifically, Sola and Nox being summoned to Dissidia sometime before the entire Marilith incident.

Sola was not happy to be dragged into some weird fighting tournament, so she is more than happy to derail the entire thing to talk to her New Brother. Now if only he would stay still! Please stop running away, Brother, she has Questions!

Sola also has Questions for her Papa, once she gets back to Insomnia. Starting with how many ooops babies did you have, Papa? She wants to know if there are More Siblings out there.

(Yes, Regis, how many kids do you have running around? says Clarus while Glaring at his King. They saw the entire thing through Crystal-vision.)

Absolutely okay to keep sending in asks! Can't promise I'll get to them right away given it's finals season atm, but the asks are fun!

Putting this under a cut because I got clocked in the head with a bat by the damn plot bunnies while writing this and it got stupidly long.

Not gonna lie, this is great - Sola would lose her entire mind because brother? New brother?

New brother who has definitely not been taking care of himself properly, sit down so Sola can feed you, Pyre damn it all.

Meanwhile Nox is more than a little surprised to come face to face with a girl who looks so much like mom but with Ardyn's hair and magic and Cor's scowl. His new sister - who claims him as a brother despite giving his surname as Izunia, only blinking once at the name of Niflheim's Chancellor before she promptly calls him her little brother - fights a lot like Cor as well, which is how Nox learns that Sola's been apprenticed to Cor since she was ten, after she foiled an assassination attempt on their younger brother, Noctis.

(Nox has to swallow around a lump in his throat at how easily Sola accepts him as family, calling Noctis their little brother instead of just hers.)

Actually though, Sola has a blast while she's in Dissidia. How could she not? She got a new brother - who is definitely a Little Brother, she doesn't care that he can kick her ass with both hands behind his back, his personal care habits are atrocious and she will do her duty as Older Sister and remind him to eat Pyre damn it - got to cut loose and fight a bunch of people and creatures, and didn't have to deal with the snobs on Papa's Council.

Best vacation ever.

Sola comes back from Dissidia grinning ear to ear - she convinced Nox to exchange numbers, and even if he's bad at remembering to text or call her, Sola will remember if it means badgering her newest brother into taking care of himself better - and cheerfully asks Papa if she's got any other siblings hanging about. Regis chokes on his spit, Clarus looks like he'd also like to know the answer to that question, while Cor looks like he can't decide if his birthday's come early or he wants to preemptively break out the alcohol.

So yeah, this is great. Maybe even better than original Sola and Nox and Noctis get pulled into Dissidia while Sola is pregnant, because teenaged Sola is having so much fun.

But.

Consider.

Little!Nox 'verse.

Specifically the version where @secret-engima dropped Nox and Noctis on Materia's side and Ardyn on Spiritus' side, with Sola joining Ardyn in this case. Post-Marilith because otherwise Nox would be like, three and Noctis eight and even I'm not that mean.

So instead Noctis is ten (Materia did try to call for champions that weren't literal children and had at least some combat experience. Normally Noctis wouldn't count, but he's since got the same soul as Nox, things got kinda mixed up. Not that that excuse will save Materia from Sola and Ardyn's wrath). Nox is five, and Sola is seventeen and newly outed as a Kingsglaive to the media, and newly realized by the Galahdians as being a half-feral Sky-born instead of just a short-tempered magical teenager.

Sola arrives at the tower before Ardyn and learns from one of the less-asshole villains who may have done this whole dog-and-chocobo show before that she’s to fight her counterpart. Which makes her immediately suspicious because she doesn’t have a mortal enemy like these people. Well, most of these people. Apparently one of them is fighting his sister-in-law and former comrade while another is fighting his own son, and if Sola goes off that pattern that means her counterpart is-

Oh Pyre no.

At which point Ardyn arrives in all of his furious-terrified-where-the-fuck-is-my-nephew Scourge-magic-faced glory. Which neatly derails Sola’s impending Rage as she stares at the man that looks (and feels, and Sola never realized how lonely she was until she met another with her magic) more like her than her own father and brother and it feels like she’s been sucker punched. Because that’s the missing Chancellor of Niflheim putting the fear of him into the other champions through the sheer strength of his magic that Sola’s doesn’t have a snowball’s chance on Ifrit’s Pyre of matching.

And yet-

“Uncle?” Ardyn’s not sure how he hears it past the sheer terror and rage pounding in his ears, past the red and gold shards of magic swirling about him in a physical manifestation of come-near-me-and-die, but somehow the soft word gets his attention from where he’s seething at Spiritus. Or maybe it’s just the barest brush of hesitant-surprise-hope that has him turning to the young woman looking at him with wide blue eyes framed by achingly familiar red hair.

He remembers hearing about the Regis of this alternate world (and hadn’t that been a shock on top of everything else) having a daughter older than Noctis. He’d simply been too busy caring for Nox to look more into it. Now he wishes he had.

Noctis may look almost exactly like Somnus, but clearly his older sister takes after Ardyn.

“Niece.” He greets. He cannot muster up the effort for even his most insincere smile right now, not when he doesn’t know where Nox is.

Sola steps fearlessly into the magic swirling around him like a storm, shards of red and gold shattering harmlessly against her skin-

Is she, is she hugging him?

She is. Even though she’s old enough to know who he is, her arms are circling his torso in an encompassing hold that is nonetheless so gentle that he could break out of it with a single step.

Ardyn… doesn’t. It… feels nice. His niece is warm, her magic (so like his, he never thought anyone would ever inherit his magic) contained such that only hints of it brush up against his, and yet Ardyn can feel clearly how his niece has no fear or disdain of him.

Ardyn isn’t sure what to make of that. He awkwardly pats her shoulder.

“Who did they take?” His niece asks. “Your counterpart.”

Ardyn’s hand involuntarily tightens on Sola’s shoulder. She doesn’t flinch. Ardyn wavers on whether to tell her, because he’s been trying to keep Nox secret and he can’t do that if anyone from the royal family knows.

But this is Sola, whose reputation for being so fiercely protective of her younger brother managed to reach even the furthest reaches of the Lucian outlands. And Sola’s magic is radiating her honest desire to help him, simply because he’s family.

Ardyn prays he’s making the right choice. “My nephew.”

From where she’s clutching him like Nox does with his stuffed chocobo, Sola stills, before looking up at him with shocked blue eyes. Underneath the worry and fear for the others taken with them, hope and affection blooms. “I have another brother?”

“Nox.” Ardyn hesitates, then adds. “He’s five.”

It’s like flipping a switch. Sola’s delight is buried under a wave of protective fury that doesn’t touch him, and she bares her teeth in a snarl. “They summoned. My five year old brother?”

Ardyn hasn’t seen this kind of fury since the mother coeurl chased off a voretooth pack that had gotten too close to Nox and her other cubs. He’s darkly eager to see how much violence his niece will dish out. If he deigns to leave her anything to kill, that is. “Most likely.”

Sola whirls on Spiritus, seething. “Where are my brothers?”

.

Meanwhile, Noctis is Absolutely Not Panicking.

He’s ten now, and if Sola was able to protect him from assassins without panicking at ten then Noctis can protect his baby brother without panicking, especially because he’s got so many people looking out for him. He’s a big kid now after all.

(Noctis doesn't know that Sola very much did panic when she saved him from that assassin seven years back. That the whole incident was one blur of Kill The Threat By Any Means Possible of panicked Sky-born instincts.)

Noctis is trying so very hard to be brave for Nox, but then they’re attacked and Noctis sees the attack coming for them and he knows he can’t get his sword up in time and he wants his sister-

And then there’s magic ripping through the air, familiar-but-not even as Sola appears out of nowhere to scoop the both of them up in her arms and raise the strongest barrier she can around them, her magic quivering in relief and protective fury, reassuring them that she’s got them, they’re safe and Uncle is just outside taking care of everything, they’re safe.

Noctis bursts into tears. Nox follows in short order. Sola holds them both, rumbling low in her throat like how she used to soothe Noctis after a nightmare, and keeping her shield as opaque as she can because like Pyre she’s letting either of the kids see the absolute carnage happening on the other side. Bad enough they can hear it. Sola would rather be tearing someone apart, but someone needs to protect her brothers and Uncle is so much stronger than her. So she sits on her cranky Sword instincts and goes about comforting her brothers.

When Ardyn finally knocks on her shield, the screaming has finally stopped, and both her brothers have cried themselves to sleep. Sola’s still making that rumbling sound in her chest, a self-soothing technique she hasn't used in longer than she can remember.

In a mirror of last time, Ardyn fearlessly steps past Sola’s bristling magic and hugs her, long arms wrapping around her and the boys with ease. He doesn’t say anything - he’s never gotten the hang of comforting words, even after two years of caring for Nox - but cautiously wrapping his magic around Sola and the boys has all three of them relaxing in his arms. At which point Sola dissolves into tears, silently sobbing into Ardyn’s shoulder in an effort not to wake Nox or Noctis, but Astrals, she was so scared and they nearly didn’t make it in time and Sola doesn’t want to have to contemplate living without her brothers. And Ardyn doesn’t know how to comfort, but he can just sit there and hold his niblings while his niece cries.

.

Sola and Ardyn only met hours before, but looking at how they act with each other no one is able to tell. Because those two get along like a house on fire.

(What is this overkill you speak of? We only know keeping nephews/little brothers safe. With extreme prejudice.)

Sola is monstrously protective of her newest brother and uncle. Nox’s Sick Day has Sola and the rest of the mages capable of healing and Ice Elemancy tending to Nox around the clock, struggling to keep his temperature down, Sola once more making her rumbling approximation of a purr to try and comfort both her family and herself. Which prompts Y’shtola to actually purr whenever it’s her turn to watch over Nox because the rumbling/purring helps Nox sleep through it all.

The reveal of Ardyn’s scars sends Sola into a towering fury that she makes sure to keep away from Uncle and her brothers, and Mors is lucky he’s already dead because Sola would gut him and leave him to bleed out on the floor.

(Ardyn is surprised by Sola’s fury and grief on his behalf. He’s not surprised by the love she has for Nox, but for him? It’s been millennia since he’s received that kind of immediate and unconditional care from anyone, much less family.)

So when Sola later sits by him that night after Nox and Noctis are fast asleep, burrowing under his arm for a half-hug Ardyn can easily escape from, Ardyn doesn’t expect the soft, “You’re safe? Wherever you are?”

Ardyn looks down at his niece’s red hair in surprise, wondering what’s prompted this inquiry. But it’s easy enough to answer. “Yes.” As safe as one can be living in the outlands, which is safe enough with Axis and his family helping and Ardyn being the most powerful being on the planet short of an Astral.

Fingers tighten their grip on his coat. “…will you call?”

“Call?”

“After we go home.” Sola clarifies. “I want to know you’re both okay.”

Ardyn stills. Because she can’t mean what he thinks she means. “You won’t try to take Nox?” Not that Ardyn would let anyone take his nephew.

“You don’t trust Papa.” Sola says. Which, yes, but Ardyn didn’t expect Sola to pick up on that when he’s been keeping a lid on the vitriol he feels for most of his family, for Nox and Noctis’ sakes. “Nox is my baby brother, but he’s your nephew too, and he loves you.” A quiet sniffle. “I’ll miss you.”

“I will call.” Ardyn promises, resting a hand on Sola’s hair. “Both of us will.” He’s gotten a lot better at managing time, he can absolutely make a reminder on his phone to call his favorite niece once a week. If not, Titus can remind him.

[miralines]

actually I also want to talk about the mechs’ approaches to the concept of good and evil and why literally none of them are anywhere near good

under the cut because it got so so long

I truly believe there was a point in Jonny’s life when he wanted to be good. That time was a decade past even by the time he met Carmilla. I think Jonny learned pretty early on that good was not an option for him, which soon morphed into a deeply-held belief that good is not something he is capable of. In reaction to this, he leans heavily into being terrible (see Interview Transcript). He believes there are good things and evil things (and plenty of ambiguity as well), and he finds good admirable, if uncommon and more than a little naive, but I think he fundamentally believes that any part of him that might have once been good was broken beyond repair before he became a teenager.

Nastya, on the other hand, views herself as capable of goodness. Sometimes. If she’s lucky and not missing anything and nothing goes wrong (see the storming of the Winter Palace). She even tried, post-mechanization, to continue to be good. But between the events leading up to her death and the unending horrors that followed, she came to the conclusion that good is not worth it. Good gets you hurt or killed or blows up in ways that make things even worse. She keeps to herself, looks out for herself and her own, and will actively hurt anyone else (because given the chance, they’ll almost certainly eventually do the same).

In a similar vein, Ashes probably figured out “good” doesn’t get you anywhere by the time they were eight. Good got you taken advantage of or killed. They do value loyalty-- if you’ve formed a relationship with someone and you value it, you will help them out, or at least not sell them out (cough mickey). This is honestly more pragmatism than anything, though-- they had no issue leaving Daedalus to die, despite having a “deal.” Mostly it applies to people they’re stuck with. Not betraying people makes things much easier when you have to spend a lot of time around those people. Do they care, in some weird way, deep down? Yes. Are they personally hurt by betrayal? Also yes. But for them, it’s the consequence of picking the wrong person to do business with, and bad things happening is as natural a force as stars shining-- including when they’re the person doing the bad things.

I think Ivy actually values good and sees it both as a desirable trait and one she’s capable of. She just has... a really skewed view of what constitutes good. A combination of trauma, personality, and the inevitable corruption of immortality have led her to an extremely utilitarian set of ethics (”for the greater good”). The “greater good” is very often preservation of knowledge, and that comes above everything else-- human life, continued existence of planets, etc. I firmly believe that at least once, the mechs have been on a planet where some authority was trying to destroy Terrible Knowledge before it could make it into the hands of their enemies, and Ivy brought it to those enemies for the sake of keeping it known. This may have led to the destruction of the whole planet, but at least the survivors fleeing from the wreckage still had the records! Ivy’s perspective is so zoomed out that most petty immoral actions (murder, theft, whatever the hell “neuro-arson” is) don’t really register as important one way or another.

Brian. Brian is a master of moral justifications. His two settings correspond to the most extreme possible version of the moral philosophies they represent: EJM Brian might destroy an entire planet to prevent the possibility of an interplanetary epidemic, whereas MJE Brian might give corrupt authorities the information that leads to mass arrests and executions because it would be wrong to lie to them. Also I think he enjoys coming up with these justifications and playing with being the moral equivalent of the monkey’s paw.

As far as the Toy Soldier is concerned, it’s not a person. Good and evil are person things. It’s exempt. I very much read its backstory as it slowly coming to reject humanity and all the things that come with it-- emotion, responsibility, even pronouns that don’t traditionally refer to objects (the latter of which can absolutely be read as voidpunk, but there is certainly room to criticize the other two). TS does what it wants, because it doesn’t see itself as part of the group obligated to follow moral rules.

Tim had a moral compass at one point. Maybe even a decent one. But then the horrors of war, etc. Tim believes and behaves as if all of his goodness died with Bertie. He can do whatever he wants now, because what’s the point?

Raphaella does not believe in good and evil. At best, it’s a nice fairy tale, at the worst, it’s a fiction designed to repress freedom and independence. Like Ivy, Raphaella is driven by knowledge, but where Ivy preserves it, Raphaella discovers it-- at any cost. Nonconsensual human experimentation poses no issue to her, because it will yield knowledge. Of course, being rude or hurtful exists, and doing bad things without sufficient reason may be rude or hurtful, but it’s not evil or wrong. Mostly in those cases the main problem is that other people don’t like it.

I’m going to be honest, I’m still very shaky on my characterization of Marius beyond Funney Man (death of byron von raum WHEN), but at the moment I see his crimes as falling under impulsivity or revenge. He feels like killing someone? Sure. He’s really annoyed at someone so constructs an elaborate plot to drive them to madness? Sounds fun. He might have felt bad about it at one point, but by the time he settles into immortality he cares more about A) whether it made him personally feel better and B) welp, can’t change it anyway. In this way, he can be a bit like Jonny, but while Jonny will do bad things for the sake of doing bad things, Marius most often has at least some reasoning, or something he hopes to gain.

If you’re still here thank you for reading and I’d be very curious to hear other thoughts