#i have more but i want to flesh out this one a lot. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jayden-writes · 3 days ago

Text

safe

pairing: Lucifer x gn!Reader

wordcount: ~3k

genre: hurt/comfort, angst, whump

cw: kidnapping, strangulation, threats, violence, murder

summary: Did it truly matter that the hands cradling your face so very gently were bloody?

other notes: no name, Y/N or MC used // AO3 // thanks again to @gravedwe11er for helping me so much with this fic

A piece of fabric pressing over your mouth and nose was all it took to plunge your world into darkness, a pungent smell being the last thing you could process. You’d been on your way back from a short trip, unsuspecting, unaware of who was lurking in the shadows. How much time had passed, you couldn’t possibly tell, but as you finally came to, all you could feel was a dull pain engulfing your entire body. Upon trying to check for any injuries, you realized your wrists were tied, bindings digging tightly into your skin. Slowly, your other senses started to return to you, and you registered that you were sitting, something around your chest keeping you upright.

Forcing your eyelids open, you blinked a few times, attempting to make sense of your surroundings. It was dark, the small, sparse room only dimly lit. If you had to guess, you'd say it was some sort of basement; the floor was unfinished, and the brick wall looked rough. “Mh-” you tried to speak, but all that you managed to get out was a muffled, quiet sound. You’ve been gagged. A heavy weight settled deep in your stomach. The cloth forced between your teeth tasted musty, already damp with your saliva. Looking down with wide eyes, you took in the multiple rows of rope wrapped around your upper body, restricting your breathing, arms bound behind you at an awkward, painful angle that made your shoulders ache. The edge of the metal chair you were sitting on cut into your thighs.

When you wiggled around to free yourself, or at least loosen the restraints, the legs scraped on the crude floor, making your ears hurt. But no matter how hard you fought, it was futile. Holding back tears, you let your head hang, closing your eyes. Deliberately keeping your inhales slow and steady, you tried to think of a solution despite your racing thoughts. Panicking wouldn’t save you, you knew that. Clearly, you would be unable to free yourself without outside assistance. And with your mouth gagged, you weren’t even able to invoke one of your pacts to call them for help. So, what should you do? What could you do?

Before you had any more time to reflect on your circumstances, you heard heavy footsteps above you, drawing your attention. Seconds later, a door was opened, the light momentarily blinding you, then it was cut off again. In the remaining light bleeding through the crack of the door, you saw feet, legs and after that, slowly, the rest of someone unknown to you entered your field of vision - though it was obvious that it was a demon. Her eyes were unnaturally bright, the pale blue piercing through you. A wolfish grin curled around her lips as she stepped closer. You wanted to shrink back, huddle into the furthest corner of the room. But you couldn’t.

“Ah, finally awake, are we? I bet you must have a lot of questions.” Her voice was casual, as if she was simply out for a stroll while she towered over you. “Well, too bad! You see, as much as I’d like to have what would undoubtedly be a very productive conversation with you, I know you’d just call upon one of those so-called Lords that grovel at your feet.”

“Mph…! Mn…!” you tried again, only earning an amused chuckle from her.

“I’m not particularly keen on having one of those brothers that practically fawn over you come to your rescue. Pathetic, really. Demons of their status acting like that around a human. They're supposed to be leaders, to be an example to us lowly demons. Ha, as if! Traitors, all of them, and they should be treated as such.” She gripped your chin roughly, her pointed fingernails scraping along your flesh as you glared at her defiantly despite the ice-cold sensation running through your veins.

“Don’t give me that fucking look, human, show me some respect,” she sneered. For a moment longer, she held your gaze, then her eyes wavered. Faster than you could comprehend, a sharp smack resounded in the small room, and your cheek stung. The force of the slap made your head spin. “You’ll lose that defiant look of yours soon enough and learn to grovel at our feet, just the way it should be. I’ll correct the mistake that fool of a prince made.”

Leaning even closer, she brought her hand down to your throat, closing her grip tightly around it. “I could kill you, just like this,” she whispered harshly into your ear as you struggled against her. Faintness quickly took you over, and your vision became frayed at the edges. Were you going to die like this? “Throw your decaying corpse at the feet of these pathetic weaklings and watch them become consumed by their emotions. And then, I’ll be the king.” You couldn’t die. Not now. Not like this. Not here. Not at her hands.

Finally, she let go of you, and you slumped forward. Blood rushed in your ears and you coughed into the cloth. “Tsk.” She spat on the ground right next to where you were trembling on the chair. “That was more boring than I’d expected. Thought you had more fight in you. But you'll see-”

Her speech was cut off when, suddenly, the door was thrown open, banging against the wall and making both you and your captor flinch. “And what exactly,” drawled a frigid voice as slow steps descended the stairs, “was ‘more boring than expected’? Enlighten me.”

You immediately recognized who it was - of course you did. But the softness that usually laced Lucifer's tone whenever he was talking to you was entirely gone, replaced by a sharpness you’d rarely heard from him. It wasn't directed toward you, you knew that, and yet you couldn't help the shiver running down your spine at the sound of his booming voice. Though he sounded composed, it was clear that he was anything but. The air felt electric, and the dangerous aura he exuded made your hair stand on end. Your heart skipped a beat, only to start pounding faster, a whimper escaping from behind the gag.

Lucifer came to a stop in front of the other demon, who had become virtually frozen in place, all color drained from her face. Gleaming red eyes glanced at you, swiftly assessing your state, before, whatever it was he saw, made his gaze harden even further. “Look away,” he instructed you in an oddly soft tone, and then his focus returned to your abductor, who was now visibly shaking.

“M-my lord,” she stammered, the quiver in her words unmistakable. “Please, you must understand-”

Within the blink of an eye, Lucifer had her pinned against the wall, a pained shriek filling the room. “What must I understand?” he asked, sounding deceptively calm, as his fingers dug into the throat of the other demon. She fought against the grip, trying to loosen the hold. To no avail. Lucifer was unmoving, unbothered by the nails scratching at his gloved hands. Clicking his tongue, he let go, and she collapsed to the ground.

“Please,” she tried, her voice strained as she coughed, attempting to gather herself. A hard kick was delivered to her stomach, causing her to cry out again and curl in on herself. When it was followed by Lucifer stepping on her hand, you knew you should have heeded his order and looked away. As it was, you were unable to avert your gaze as the bones of her fingers cracked beneath the force of his foot. She was pulled up to stand, though most of her weight was being held up by him, pinning her against the wall once more. “I-I'm sorry,” she choked out as he pressed his forearm into her throat.

“Are you truly sorry? Or are you merely trying to save your worthless skin?” Lucifer questioned in a dangerously low voice. He trailed a finger along her cheekbone. “Perhaps,” he mused, “I should rid your body of it. Find a better purpose for it. I believe some bookbinders still use demon skin for books. It would make a terrific present for your family, wouldn't you agree?” He paused, taking in the horror flickering across her face with an impassive expression. “Of course, that would be rather time-consuming. And, quite frankly, I have more important things to tend to than your worthless existence. Let's make this quick then, shall we?”

As if she weighed nothing, he slung her toward the opposite wall, a sickening crack audible as her head made contact with the bricks. She bonelessly fell to the floor, groaning in pain. Before she was able to regain her bearings, Lucifer was kneeling beside her prone body, not caring about the rapidly forming puddle of blood that was dirtying his pants. A dagger glinted in the dimly lit room, and only when blood spurted from her throat, her last, gurgling attempts at breathing filling the air, did you look away, your breaths coming in sharp gasps against the cloth. You felt sick.

With the mangled corpse of the demon lying at the feet of Lucifer, his gaze returned to your quivering form. The intense sheen in his eyes vanished as he took swift steps toward you, appraising your pale appearance. Crouching near you, he partially obscured the gruesome scene behind him. But now, with him finally by your side, he didn't need to. You didn't want to look at it, didn't care about the dead demon, the only thing your sight was drawn to was him. All that mattered was the man before you. The man who could easily kill you just like he killed her, who barely even batted an eye at the wounds he’d inflicted upon that woman. You knew that, rationally, you should be terrified of him, at least as much as you’d been terrified of her. And yet you weren't.

Those same hands that had just killed in cold blood, still stained red, were gently working on undoing the painful restraints keeping you in place. Those same eyes that had shone with ruthless indifference as he had taken a life now looked at you with carefully guarded concern and cautiousness. The crimson streaking his sharp features, dripping off his jaw in beads, complemented the eyes that were looking at you with a contradictory softness perfectly.

Once the cloth was removed from your mouth, all you could muster was a broken sob in the vague shape of his name. With a soft sigh that was probably shakier than Lucifer would have liked to admit, you were gathered into his arms. A hand gingerly pressed against the back of your head, guiding your face into the crook of his neck. The wet blood on his glove was undoubtedly staining your hair, but you couldn't find it in yourself to care; the warmth and safety you found in his embrace was all that mattered.

“Do you have any serious injuries?” he asked quietly, his breath brushing against your ear. Upon feeling you shake your head, he lifted you from the chair, carrying your weight with ease, and you instinctively wrapped your arms over his shoulders. As soon as he'd made it up the stairs, you could hear multiple sets of steps approaching in a hurry alongside several voices, yelling over each other. You recognized all of them, and they rushed around you, a few of them touching you.

Lucifer tightened his hold on you as the sudden onslaught of sensations made you whimper and burrow yourself further into him. “Stop it. This is not helping,” he reprimanded them sharply, and immediately, it grew quiet and the hands withdrew. “I will return home,” he continued. “Do with the body as you wish, though you ought to leave some remains. And don't dawdle too long.”

With that, he went outside, the fresh, cool air replacing the stuffy, metallic tang of the basement. The trip back was short - or was it long? You weren’t sure. It was silent, neither you nor him said anything. The tension in Lucifer was palpable, his posture rigid as he carried you. You mindlessly played with the fabric of his shirt, rubbing it between the tips of your fingers while your head rested on his shoulder.

“I'm okay,” you whispered, although it sounded hollow even to your own ears. He released a heavy sigh and hugged you closer to him.

“You're okay,” he simply echoed.

Next thing you knew, you were back inside. Lucifer's bloody hands were gentle as they worked on divesting your still-trembling form of your clothes, his gaze never lingering anywhere but his own fingers. Not that you would have noticed either way; you were blankly staring ahead, only vaguely aware of his actions. When he had finished, he spoke in a soft voice, as if afraid to startle you, “All done. Are you ready to get in?” Your attention snapped back to the present, to the warm bathroom you were standing in. The tiles beneath your bare feet were a little cold, just now starting to heat up. In the background, water was running, gradually filling the bathtub right next to you.

“Lucifer…?” you mumbled, receiving a squeeze to your hands in response. Looking down, you realized he was gently holding them in his own, ugly bruises and abrasions blooming across your wrists. His gloves were still damp, some of the blood staining your skin.

“Yes. I’m here. Let’s get you cleaned up now,” he responded patiently, directing you toward the tub. Your steps were mechanical as you followed his guidance, entering the warm water and submerging your body in it. Drawing your knees up to your chest, you hugged your legs to yourself, simply gazing at the rippling shapes around you.

“I will leave for a moment to change. Call for me if something is the matter.” For a beat, Lucifer waited for a reply, a reaction, anything from you. When he received none, he sighed wearily. “It will only be for a moment, I will be right back,” he said before stepping out. As you submerged your hands, you watched as the water surrounding you turned a light shade of pink. The pain radiating from your wrists was distant, detached from your being. You observed how you flexed your fingers, then curled them toward your palm, nails digging into the flesh. Had your hands always looked like that? Turning them around, you inspected them, spreading the fingers apart, pressing them together and-

“Does it hurt a lot?” a voice asked and you flinched hard, spinning toward the source. Lucifer was kneeling next to the tub, his brow creased in a frown. “I did not mean to startle you. You seemed very… absorbed in your thoughts. I suppose you didn’t hear me return.” His gloves were gone now, with no traces of the blood that had marred his skin just minutes ago. He had changed into clean, comfortable clothes as well. Upon your prolonged silence, he reached for a nearby cloth, dipping it into the water, then moving it over your body in slow, gentle circles.

“Is this real?” you muttered, the words leaving your mouth before you had even formed the thought.

“Yes, it is real,” he confirmed calmly, though his ministrations faltered briefly. “We are in my bathroom, back in the House of Lamentation. You are safe here.”

“Mhm…” you hummed noncommittally, your gaze drifting down to your submerged hands as you balled them into fists and stretched them out. The water rippled at the repetitive motion and you couldn’t help but stare at the patterns it created. The sensation of the cloth brushing over your skin faded into the background. Only when larger hands stopped your movements, grasping yours gently, did you glance at Lucifer again. You blinked at him blankly. Something in his expression was off, though you couldn’t tell what it was.

“I’m tired,” a voice said and you didn’t have the energy to think about whether it was your own or not.

“Let’s get you into bed then, hm?” he suggested softly, letting the water drain and carefully supporting you as you stood up and stepped out of the tub. A large towel was wrapped around you with which he patted you dry before he helped you into a set of clothes. They vaguely smelled like him. With an arm over your shoulders, he guided you out of the bathroom and back toward his room. Once at the bed, you lay down, sinking into the mattress. For a moment, Lucifer simply remained next to you, regarding you with an unreadable look on his face. Eventually, he knelt beside you and opened the drawer of the nightstand, pulling out a small container. Gingerly, he took one of your arms and scooped out some ointment to apply to the raw skin on your wrist, then he repeated it on the other side as well.

After stowing it away again, Lucifer turned off all the lights besides the candles and climbed into the bed next to you, cautiously gathering you into an embrace. A hand cupped the back of your head, hugging you into his chest as the fingers stroked your scalp. Aside from his even breaths and your slow, shallow ones, it was silent. An invisible weight was tugging on your limbs, the only thing holding you in place, holding you together, were the arms enveloping you.

“Can I let go?” you mumbled, not quite sure yourself what you were trying to ask, but he seemed to understand nonetheless.

“Yes, it’s alright to let go now,” he reassured you, squeezing you a little tighter. “I’m here and I’m not leaving.”

Humming in response, you nestled closer to him, feeling your breaths gradually synchronize with his as you surrendered yourself to the heavy warmth overcoming you. Soon, everything else slowly faded away until you finally drifted off to sleep, safe in Lucifer’s hold.

162 notes · View notes

marril96 · 19 hours ago

Text

Safe Haven

Chapter 1: Guilty as Sin

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x reader

Summary: After months of no contact, Agatha shows up at your door badly injured, and it's up to you to help her.

To say you and Agatha had parted on bad terms would be an understatement of the century.

You'd forgiven her a lot of things, and could forgive so much more, but the one thing you just couldn't get past was her forgetting your anniversary because she was too busy draining some random witch that wasn't even powerful enough to justify leaving you hanging.

You'd exploded. It was like someone had pulled a switch, and an atomic bomb had gone off, turning everything in its path to dust. You'd unleashed all the things you'd been holding back; centuries of pent up rage, of resentment pouring out of your mouth. Raging and burning. Stinging its target's flesh like lava dripping on skin.

Things you couldn't believe could ever come out of your mouth shot out, bitter, venomous. Bullets aiming for the heart.

You'd called Agatha selfish. Had accused her of not caring about you, of valuing power over you. Had said she'd never loved you, and, if she'd thought she had, you'd certainly never felt it. Had told her other witches were right to have never trusted her for not an ounce of her was worthy of being trusted.

"I can't look at you right now. I don't wanna look at you," were your final words before you'd summoned your magic and had taken off for the sky. Far, far away from her.

It wasn't exactly a breakup. The two of you had had periods of separation throughout the centuries, usually brought on by one of you wanting to travel and the other preferring to cozy up somewhere for a few months. In the end, you would always find your way back to each other. The few times you had parted on bad terms, you were back in each other's arms within days.

You could never stay apart for too long.

Until now.

Three months and counting. No calls. No texts. Both of you were too stubborn, too proud to pick up the phone and make the first move.

Not that it would do much.

You doubted there was coming back from this fight.

If someone had said those things to you, you wouldn't want to see their face, either. Not for a very long time. Possibly not ever again.

You didn't even mean what you'd said. You were just so angry, and Agatha had made a mistake, and you'd wanted to punish her. You'd wanted to hurt her. You'd wanted her to feel how you were feeling. Wanted her to feel worse. You'd wanted to shove a knife in her gut and twist it.

What you'd actually done was aim for the heart and shatter it until it was nothing but specks of dirt under your feet.

Every day since that fateful night had been hell.

You weren't sure how you were able to survive; guilt had been eating you alive, bit by fleshy bit. The words you'd said echoed in your head. Had kept you up at night. Had brought tears to your eyes every time you'd replayed them.

Agatha was no angel, far from it, but she didn't deserve that. She didn't deserve a fraction of the venom you'd spewed in her face.

Maybe that had been a breakup, after all.

You didn't see her forgiving you that kind of cruelty.

You certainly would never forgive yourself.

Loud banging shook you back to the present, to your lonesome reality. Someone — something — was at your front door, insistent, desperate to get inside. The hinges squeaked under the force of the blows.

Blood ran cold in your veins.

You lived in the middle of nowhere; a deliberate choice, as your kind historically didn't fare well among people. Or each other. Experience had taught you that witches could be as treacherous as humans, even more so. Miles and miles of trees surrounded your home, cocooning it, shielding it. Hiding it and you from the world.

Who could possibly be at your door this late in the evening?

A lost or injured hiker? A runaway kid seeking help?

Someone who meant you harm?

The prospect didn't worry you too much; you'd made sure the entrance to your home was spelled so that nobody and nothing could get in without your explicit permission. Hunters and rogue witches, as well as regular, run of the mill thieves, had raided too many spaces you'd thought were safe over the centuries.

When you'd acquired this house, you were determined it was never going to happen again.

It was Agatha who had suggested protection like that. She knew how much it meant to you to have a place to call yours, to call a home, so she'd flipped through the pages of that dark magic book of hers that you weren't allowed to come near (with good reason: you'd avoided that thing like the plague) and had found a spell that would protect you from unwanted guests

It had worked wonders so far.

Still, as you cautiously padded to the door, one of your hands lit up with magic; a witch could never be too careful. You unlocked the door and opened it a crack, then wide as your eyes fell upon the familiar dark brown hair.

Agatha.

Your heart raced, first with excitement at seeing her again, then with concern as the condition she was in settled in.

Her clothes were ripped. Her hair was a mess, as if she hadn't brushed it in days. Blood ran down her mouth, down her chapped lips. Deep, purple bruises marred her face, painted it dark and painful.

"Oh, my god," you gasped, in disbelief at the sight before you. This had to have been some kind of an illusion. The Agatha you knew could never get hurt like this. No matter what the situation was, she would find her feet. She would never allow for it to get this far.

Her power was too grand for even a remote possibility of something like this.

Then why was she standing at your door, bruised and bloody?

Why was she shivering?

Why did she look so fucking scared that it broke your heart all over again, as your own cruel words had the night that you'd abandoned her?

"Y/N, please, let me in," she said. There was no usual snark in her tone, no humor. No playfulness that you'd come to miss in the months since you'd last seen her. Her voice was strained, as if it hurt to talk. As if it was taking the last remnants of the strength she had left to push the words out. "Please." There was a pause, a pained one, then she said, completely and utterly weak, "I don't have anywhere else to go."

She didn't even have to ask.

"Come here," you said, reaching for her. It was an instinct you'd grown into over the centuries of being with her. When she needed you — when she was cold or sad or injured — you were at her side with arms wide open. No questions asked. No demands made. All that mattered was getting her well. Making the pain she was in go away.

Hands on her shoulders, you gently coaxed her inside, and then locked the door behind her.

She didn't have to ask to be let in. Didn't have to cower and beg for mercy.

Even with the protection spell, Agatha had been welcome here from the very start. This was her home as much as it was yours. No matter how angry you were at her, you would never deny her access. Had never denied it.

What you had done, you remembered, chills running down your spine like ants, was tell her you couldn't look at her.

Was that why she was in this condition? Did she think you wouldn't help her if she called? Did she think you didn't care about her anymore — that you didn't care whether she lived or died?

Did she think you would slam the door in her face and leave her to tend to herself?

Swallowing the guilt that pressed on your chest like an ill-fitted corset, you helped Agatha to the couch. She walked with a limp, one hand pressed to her side, each breath she took a labor, a chore. Whoever had harmed her had done a number on her.

You'd seen her lose fights before. You'd seen her beg for mercy. But it had never been this bad. Not even close.

Whoever had done this to her had better leave the country, had better leave the fucking planet if they wanted to live for another day. Once you found them, they would wish they were dead.

That was a promise, and you always kept those when it came to Agatha.

"Is this okay?" you asked. "Do you need a blanket, or a pillow, or—"

"It's fine," she said, taking a few breaths to steady herself, each more painful than the other.

It shattered your heart into a million pieces.

She didn't deserve this. No matter what she did or whom she managed to piss off, she didn't deserve to be in this kind of pain.

As tenderly as you could, you laid your hands over hers. Agatha stiffened, startled, confirming your suspicions — she didn't think you care about her, not after the things you'd said.

All the witches in her life had ended up betraying her, turning their backs on her, abandoning her. It was only natural that you would do the same.

It was only life.

She didn't know anything different, anything better.

And you, the asshole that you were, had poured salt over the wound.

You'd told her she'd deserved it.

"It's okay," you said softly, caressing her hands. Letting her know that she was safe, that the danger had passed. "I'm not gonna hurt you."

But you had, hadn't you? You'd promised you would never, but you'd done what everyone else had. You'd turned your back on her. You'd spewed the vilest things you could think of, things you didn't even mean, to hurt her, all because you were hurt and had wanted her to feel the same — had wanted her to feel worse. You'd thrown her mistakes in her face, and had left her. You'd never looked back. And, no matter how much the guilt was eating you up, niggling at your insides like acid, you didn't have the nerve to apologize, to make it right.

You were no better than her coven. Than her bitch of a mother.

Agatha nodded, then lowered her eyes to her lap, to her dirty, bloodied clothes. Everywhere and anywhere but your face.

She might as well have slapped you.

Not that you wouldn't have deserved it.

"Who did this to you?" you asked, trying your hardest to hold back an explosion that threatened to erupt inside you.

You couldn't hurt yourself, not much more than you already have, but you could make sure that the one who'd done this to her paid with their life.

They'd been living on borrowed time since the second they'd decided to lay their hands on her.

Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.

"Hunters." She spit the word like it was poison, like the mere act of saying it befouled her mouth. "They injected me with something that's been blocking my power."

You raised an eyebrow, confused. "A drug of some sort?"

"Try potion."

Now that was interesting. "They're working with a witch?"

Agatha nodded. "A powerful one. It's been two days, and this thing's still alive and kicking."

"Two days?"

They'd had her for two days?

They'd been hitting her, beating her, torturing her for two days?

A few tears escaped your containment, your cheeks burning in their wake.

"Oh, please, it's nothing I can't take. I could go for two more weeks," Agatha said with a shrug, feigning nonchalance. Acting as if what she'd gone through didn't bother her a single bit.

You knew better.

That smile on her mouth was the same one she always hid behind. The one she used when she wanted to hide the pain, the turmoil, despite knowing damn well it didn't fool you. It never did.

"Sweetheart, I am so sorry," you said, on the brink of falling apart.

"Why? You didn't do anything."

That was the problem.

You didn't do anything.

She was tortured for two days, and you were none the wiser.

"I should've been there."

You would have burned those monsters alive. You would've made them beg for mercy, given them hope that it would come, and then you would've taken it away at the last minute. You would've made the punishment fit the crime.

You would do it.

They had no idea what was coming to them.

Agatha rolled her eyes. "Save your pity."

"It's not pity, and you know it," you told her in your most earnest tone. She had no reason to believe you — you'd certainly given her plenty of reasons not to — but you hoped she would find it in her heart to look past that. To give you the smallest benefit of the doubt, a chance to make what you broke whole again.

"Isn't it?" It was her turn to twist the knife, and she knew how to make it hurt without trying too hard.

You deserved it.

As much as it hurt, as much as it bruised and broke you, you had every word of doubt coming.

You swallowed a hard lump in your throat, welcoming the pain. Accepting it as penance. "No."

Standing up on shaky legs, you walked to the adjoining kitchen and started rummaging through cupboards in search of supplies. You didn't have a first aid kit, so a makeshift one would have to do. Some old bandages, a rag, a bowl of warm water. Simple, yet efficient.

Agatha could think what she wanted — she could think the worst of you, and she certainly had that right — but you would still help her. You would still do your best for her.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Getting supplies," you said, picking up the softest rag you had. "We need to get you cleaned up."

A moment of tense silence passed. "I can do it myself."

You looked her in the eyes like you always did when she was being difficult. "Let me help you."

"I don't need your help," she said stubbornly.

If she didn't, she wouldn't have shown up at your door and begged to be let in. She wouldn't have let you hold her hands.

"Agatha," you said with a sigh. Don't do this, you thought. Don't play these games. Not now.

"You don't have to pretend you want me here. I'm only here because I had nowhere else to go," she reiterated.

"I'm not pretending."

"Aren't you? You made it pretty clear you didn't wanna look at me." Her eyes, so blue and sad, filled with tears. Her injured lips trembled. "I'm selfish, remember? I never loved you. I'm not trustworthy. I deserve everything that's ever happened to me. I deserve this."

"No. No, you don't."

But you did. You deserved to have your words thrown back at you. You deserved every jab, every painful poke.

You laid the bowl on the coffee table and sat back down by Agatha's side. "I know I'll never be able to take back all those horrible things I said. For what it's worth, I didn't mean any of it."

"Why'd you say it, then?" Agatha asked pointedly. No pleasantries. No nonsense.

"Because I was pissed, and I wanted to hurt you." It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud, but you owed it to her to be honest. She deserved to know the truth. "All this time, I've been trying to think of ways to apologize. Nothing seemed good enough. You deserve better, and I just couldn't give it to you. So, I left you alone."

You reached for her hand. Momentary relief flooded your veins as she allowed you to twine your fingers with hers. This time she welcomed your touch. Welcomed you.

"I really am sorry," you said. "I don't expect you to forgive me. I wouldn't. I just ask that you let me try to make up for it."

Agatha swallowed. Her eyes fell to your linked hands. You thought she would push you away. That she would tell you where you can shove your apology. That she would tell you that it was too late — she didn't love you anymore. That she wanted nothing to do with you.

Instead, her fingers squeezed yours.

A tiny, silent gesture that spoke more than words ever could.

She hadn't given up on you.

She was willing to give you a chance.

She still loved you.

Just like that, a spark lit up inside you. A sliver of hope, tiny but still there, bright in the turmoil of your mind.

It was more than you could have asked for.

You promised to yourself — to Agatha — that you wouldn't squander it.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @miss-moon-guardian @hermslore @uniquelesbianidiot @natashamaximoff1 @alsoknownasmel @swan-queen-is-magic @tardisesandtitans @ahintofchaos @fruityhahn @midnight-lestrange

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness x reader #agatha x reader #aaa #agatha all along #marvel #mcu #fanfic #fanfiction #my fics #edit

110 notes · View notes

rockinmusicquarterly · 2 days ago

Text

my voices :> (alt text labels who's who)

long ass design notes under the cut:

smitten

went with a sort of roman poet vibe for him with the sash and wreath, plus a nice cape for the dashing hero look, all pinned with a (unspecified) flower right over his heart

hero

his feather coating is short and rounded, meant to give off the look of puffy sleeves like a medieval prince or bard. his little head tufts are heart-shaped also

his wings are shaped rather elegantly, in an almost stereotypically "angelic" way

my mindset for him was as middle-road as possible: in height, feather length, wing size, color values, etc. truly just The Guy

neck bandana for the adventurer look, and some shoulder pads that, while offering some protection, are overall pretty unqualified for the kinds of horrors to be wrought in the construct; he's prepared, but not that prepared

while the other voices have 2 front-toes, hero is one of three voices who has 3. this is done to show he has more of a... i guess closer connection to TLQ (who also has 3), since he's there from the start and feels the most fleshed out overall

contrarian

the shortest king of them all

definitely aiming for the jester aesthetic, but in what i hoped was a more subtle manner? his head tufts are the general shape of a classic jester's hat, along with all the bells he's adorned with - you can hear him coming from a mile away. wears half of a comedy mask bc (gestures) he's Like That

his wings are tiny and cartoonishly shaped, only able to lift him off the ground out of pure looney tunes physics. his whole thing is just rounded, playful edges

3 front-toes like hero, showing how he grows somewhat out of his titular role in the strange beginnings ending, becoming more of his own person than just a singularly-defined Voice

cold

the tallest king of the bunch

his feather coating is a disaster, this man does not care about preening himself & it shows. lots of loose feathers sticking out and ruffled in every possible spot

the last of the voices with 3 front-toes: the cold seems to have an (albeit implicit) understanding of the TLQ's (and to an extent his own) role as a deity, finding familiarity in the textured nothingness - though, he isn't as "special" as he'd hope

the giant wings give him a more imposing presence despite his twig frame, i imagine him sometimes wrapping himself in them like a big cloak

his scarf is positioned just so to make the scar over his heart (matching the spectre's of course) an open target - as if giving one the invitation to make him feel Something

opportunist

this one was where i wanted to start adding design parallels between the canonical voice "pairings" in the game (consumption & betrayal, pain & unfamiliarity, etc.) so he and the hunted share some design elements

they both have little utility belts, but the opportunist carries on him nothing but a poorly concealed blade - looking out ultimately for himself in the long run

lil braid cause it's cute, and to me has the sort of sleek, tidied-up vibe of someone who wants to come off like he knows exactly what he's doing

i think his wings are on the larger side, but he generally keeps them pinned under his clothes to make himself appear non-threatening

hunted

verrry dirty with lots of loose leaves and branches stuck in his feathers. he can try to wash them out, but they're always back before long. dirt boy (affectionate)

has a utility belt like the opportunist, but he uses it to carry a pouch full of various goodies & medical materials - always trying to look out for everyone else, concerned most with group survival

unlike the opportunist who can pull them out whenever he wants, the hunted's wings are fully pinned beneath his cloak & rendered unusable. something something about how his instinctive fears keep him from reaching his full potential?

(though given what can happen in the den maybe it's best he keep that potential unfulfilled lmao)

digitigrade legs are cool :>

cheated

like the razor, he's all sharp edges and angles. he's covered in jagged scars outlining the general spots where the razor chops TLQ up, along with some other missing chunks around his tufts & limbs

(at first i wanted to have some of them look like autopsy scars, but i couldn't quite get the shape right & it was just too much visual clutter 😔)

covered in bandages similar-looking to the contrarian's wrapping things, though they don't do him much good in the long run

not as short but still short king. free my man he did nothing wrong

stubborn

while the cold is slightly taller than him, he's overall the biggest of the bunch

the only one with pants (skirt) privileges because i know in my heart he's the guy who has to be convinced into wearing a shirt. his is adorned with a few of his own feathers

scarred all over, including his wings which are pretty much broken beyond use from all his fighting. he doesn't care - it seems fairer overall to stay on level ground alongside his opponent(s). unlike the broken's wings, stubborn's are flared out despite their damage - essentially saying, "come at me"

lil ponytail cause it's cute

skeptic

both to match the smitten's general look and to try something a bit different from the classic detective vibes, i went with a sort of vampire hunter look for him? not sure how much sense it makes but i think it looks neat

while the smitten's sash is large and goes right over his heart, the skeptic's utility belt avoids it altogether - skepticism vs blind devotion yadda yadda

always carries the pristine blade in a little holster, since he refuses to let TLQ go on without it in all his main routes

on the taller side compared to the smitten

paranoid

in contrast to the cold's unpreened disheveledness, the paranoid is ridiculously overpreened, giving his feathers a messier, plucked shape

(i wasn't brave enough to draw them but i know in my heart he's got some bald patches)

has a big, splotchy scar over his heart with little blood vessel/nerve lines diverging off of it - his route has TLQ dying of "fright" (something usually associated with a heart attack), compared to the cold just skewering himself

his little cloak-thing is torn to shreds, trying and failing to hide his heart - while the cold leaves his purposefully vulnerable

short(ish) king

broken

my beloved <3

very disheveled, though not as bad as the cold or paranoid. he's generally too miserable to worry about caring for his appearance, but is more open to the effort than the cold (and less neurotic about it than the paranoid)

clipped talons and nails

has a shackle around his neck for the obvious pet/prisoner imagery from his route, and one around his ankle on the opposite side & limb from where the princess is usually chained up

he's scarred up, but in more i guess "deliberate" places than the stubborn. one near his neck reaching to his heart, one winding around his midsection, and one on the back of his knee

his wings are broken & unusable like the stubborn's, also open though in a more subdued manner, showing the openness of his pain & vulnerability

#stp #stp voices #slay the princess #how do i draw #HOUWUGH (faceplants)#i didn't think id actually design them all fdkkshkgh but it was fun!#my silly rabbits

87 notes · View notes

wings-of-ink · 2 days ago

Text

Update Progress and Things to Look Forward to

Hello everyone! I hope you are safe and well.

Chapter 5 is coming right along. My goal is to still have it out by the end of November, but the way the last couple of weeks have been for me, we might hit a little delay into the first week of December.

And do not worry, because I know some of you will, I'm good. It's just been busy this month. I've had a friend going through a hard time who's needed a hand up, and I've also needed to work overtime at my daytime gig. My friend is doing better now and I won't need to do more overtime again until sometime in mid-December.

I will not say that the chapter will for sure be delayed, though. This coming week I have extra time off from work (and there was much rejoicing), and I am hoping to dedicate more of it to finishing the final segments of the chapter. And then, I just have to fuse all the individual segments together and do as much proofreading as I can before I deem it "good enough for now" and publish it.

This chapter is a big one, lol. But, I didn't want to cut it short since it is an important section where you learn a lot, grow a bit, and connect with your crew (and maaaaaybe get into some big trouble).

I still have a couple short scenes to flesh out, and then a bigger finale, which I am so excited to finally write!

I'll go ahead and note that saves will almost definitely be broken - again. I had a few things that I did not anticipate before and had to make some coding changes for the earlier chapters. On the plus side, I also figured out where I went wrong with the fonts, so that should be fixed at least.

I will be opening up the Patreon with the release of Chapter 5 if anyone is interested! We'll start out with a couple tiers and grow from there. Both main tiers will focus on extras and early chapter releases - so expect POVs, drabbles, and spicy things.

In December, I'd like to release a couple extras both publically and in the Patreon, but I won't spoil any of that now so I can tease you with it later.

In the more distant future, I plan to create a way to skip chapters so you don't need to speedrun to get to new content. I will take more time to get Chapter 6 out so I can fine-tune a few things for all the previous chapters as well. I'm hoping to get them more smoothed out with a good deal of copyediting.

Reaction-style asks are still paused, but if you have general questions/recommendations/comments, send them my way!

There are many adventures ahead, my friends!

Take care, everyone! Stay safe! ^_^

As a treat, there's a semi-spoilery (kinda not really???) sneak peek below!

Hmmm...who are you with and why is your friend watching you so close???

#god cursed if #twine if #if wip #twine wip #interactive novel #if game #interactive fiction #progress update

112 notes · View notes

blueikeproductions · 2 days ago

Text

Y’know thinking it over, I think one of the reasons TFONE failed, after looking at other comments, is it ultimately did nothing new. The marketing didn’t help, but I’ve noticed a lot of people be irritated at the modern 13 Prime concept and the more modern political bent (no longer Cold War inspired, but instead some mild identity politics and heavier ideological differences that modern audiences have notably struggled with) persisting, and this movie does little to change that.

The Bayformers films, love ‘em or hate ‘em, ultimately tried new things: The Allspark, reinventing the Prime mythology for its canon, Sentinel Prime as the best villain the series had, a group of ancient Autobot Knights that Optimus was apparently part of alongside the Dinobots, and so forth.

What did TFONE actually offer that was new?

Well.

Not much.

It was a complete retreading of the Aligned backstory we’ve been given for the past decade or so: Optimus and Megatron were former friends that overthrew a corrupt system that Megatron kept rebelling against, starting the Great War.

The same story that Prime did, that Cyberverse did, that IDW did, that Netflix WFC did, sure a few things were reshuffled but it’s the same, slagging story. TFONE even recycled Sentinel Prime as the main antagonist again, his motives not that dissimilar from his Spock adjacent counterpart.

People complain about the Great War being over done, but that’s clearly not stopping people eagerly tuning into Skybound’s version of it as of typing. General audiences, like it or not, vastly prefer the war between the Autobots and Decepticons, they don’t care about Grunkle Vegeta Megatron, his younger years as D-16 and his tumultuous friendship with Orion Pax.

The only thing new TFONE technically did was better establish Optimus and Megatron as being good friends originally. Aligned and the other series did a terrible job with this, with it ping pinging between Megatron already being power hungry and insane, he just hid it better, to him and Optimus being written as a couple who had a bad break up but can’t get over each other. TFONE still leans towards the later, not helping current situations but at least you do legitimately feel bad this time the friendship fell apart. The friendship was actually believable, that was the strength, but alas most people don’t really like the idea of Prime and Megs being friends.

It’s why I still feel the upcoming Age of Primes toy line will struggle, because once again, the 13 Primes are not a well known aspect of the lore, and modern shows haven’t done a great job at fleshing out Solus or Quintus, and stuff often falls back on Alpha Trion, a character from the old cartoon that people simply are more familiar with.

We desperately need to flesh these characters out better, we need to go back to a Vector Prime befriends the modern kids and Autobots plot for each Prime to make sense of them going forward. That’s the only way new fans will get to know them better and actually care.

As for TFONE, with current problems at Hasbro and Paramount, it’s not looking likely this story continues, but whether it inspires cartoons and comics after EarthSpark anyway we don’t know. Clearly the plan was to use TFONE as a springboard for future content, but it simply didn’t make money to justify it. If Hasbro is satisfied with it doing well on Paramount+, then maybe it evens out, but I legitimately believe the core problem has been trying to make the Aligned canon stick to most modern media when it clearly isn’t. I think we need a new approach, keep the Primes if you want, but don’t slavishly have it be the EXACT same story with them in each movie, comic or cartoon. TFONE DID modify the Prime backstory so that’s a good step, but whether they take that for future cartoons we don’t know.

#blueike productions #blueike #transformers #maccadam #transformers one

40 notes · View notes

flowerakatsuka · 1 day ago

Text

finally finished kuroba's updated fujio rock design!! i ended up thinking about them a lot more than i expected and ended up fleshing out their au a lot more so they really needed a new look. and here's a short playlist for how i imagine their band's music / their vocals would sound!

more info under the cut!

rotten flower is a lolita vkei band aesthetics-wise, but they pull from a variety of genres for their music. a lot of their songs have instrumentation inspired by european folk and classical music ( a la kaoling or yucat. )

their band has multiple themes they play on — card suits, royalty, flowers, and urban decay being overtaken by nature.

kuroba's band persona plays into a cool prince archetype with a playful side, this really comes out on stage.

they've gained more popularity as of late and have gotten the chance to play at larger venues, but kuroba still prefers playing at smaller, underground venues. they think it makes for a more intimate, energized experience.

rather than being a plant nerd in this verse, kuroba is obsessed with instruments. it's not uncommon for them to dive down a rabbit hole of researching different ones and come out the other side with a wealth of knowledge + a new baby in their collection. they're very fond of stringed instruments.

kuroba themself loves a wide swath of music genres and is interested in making music in them, but many of them don't exactly fit their band's aesthetic well. they'd love to produce a bossa nova or city pop album at some point.

they were also an utatie back in college under the pseudonym, " tsumekusa. " their channel wasn't super popular, but they had a few dedicated fans that loved hearing their covers. they mostly covered songs from the 80's.

kuroba used to be tone death in this au like they are in canon, but thanks to their fellow club member's help and encouragement, they were able to train their voice to the level it's at now. their natural singing register is on the lower side, but they're able to sing in higher ranges as well, ( i imagine it to be like to the range showcased in the jun togawa song on the linked playlist. )

their beef and rivalry with kara seemingly came out of nowhere after they meeting for the first time in the au. kuroba tends to be kinda curt and playfully snarky towards him while kara is happy that at least someone recognizes his greatness enough to see him as a rival. also, he's just very clearly infatuated with them and wants this to be a rivals to lovers situation so fucking bad. ( he'll probably get that wish granted, we'll see. )

#it took me a second to figure out what info i wanted to put on the ref itself but here it is!!#ngl i made myself blush with this design so i hope you guys like it asfjl #i also want to give dobusu in this au a redesign too. i need her to serve with kuroba so bad...#that and i thought about homura being an idol in this au and want to design that at some point....#okay my brain's started to fry a little so i'm scampering off again #osmt #osomatsu-san oc #fujio rock #mj ocs #oc : kuroba #au : fujio rock #mj draws

46 notes · View notes

felassan · 1 day ago

Text

"During early development of The Veilguard, BioWare experimented with multiplayer once again, however, Epler insists that there was never a mandate from parent company Electronic Arts to implement any specific online or live-service modes; the devs were just exploring different ways to tell the story. Eventually, BioWare ditched the multiplayer aspects to focus solely on creating a single-player experience, aiming to meet the lofty expectations of the fandom. “We’re a studio built to make single-player RPGs,” Epler says. “And more importantly, I think a lot of people have come here to build single-player, story based RPGs. So, it just kind of ended up making more sense to make this game the way it is versus a multiplayer game.” With the transition back to a core single-player emphasis, many of The Veilguard’s systems had to be reworked, including one that Bioware is most famous for: the companion system. Unlike previous Dragon Age games, The Veilguard only lets players take on two companions instead of three — more in line with how the party system works in Bioware’s other big game, Mass Effect. However, when developers were testing out multiplayer for the game, it had the classic four-player party setup where the player and three other friends could join. But now that The Veilguard was strictly a solo affair, BioWare wanted to focus on the main protagonist, Rook, and their companions. Banter between the party was essential to get them to feel like fully-realized characters. In previous Dragon Age games, whenever the player traversed the world, non-playable party members would talk to each other about current events or their interests, fleshing out their perspectives and constantly evolving the dynamic between the team. This was usually reserved for just two characters at a time, however, with the third generally meandering off to the side. “One of the biggest things we got slammed on at Dragon Age: Inquisition’s launch was people felt there wasn’t enough companion banter because it wasn’t firing as often,” Epler says. “So much of our companion banter is built around two characters interacting. When it came down to it, it felt like [three] was the right number when we were building the game.” And while it took some time to come to a final number of active party members, Epler insists that initial experimentation with multiplayer didn’t impact the decision in the end. “It was not a relic of the multiplayer at all,” he says. “In fact, one of the few things that survived was the four-person party until we tried it out a lot and realized that three made the most sense for the game.”"

"Lessons to be learned While Anthem’s poor reception wasn’t the sole reason for BioWare’s decision to focus on creating single-player, narrative-driven games again, it was clearly a catalyst. One of the biggest complaints about the game from fans was the lack of traditional storytelling and characters that made the studio revered in the first place, especially coming off the back of one of the developers’ weakest links, Andromeda. “We were alienating parts of our fan base that had been with us for a long time, and not successfully bringing in anyone else through the multiplayer side of things,” Epler says. “The reception to Anthem was very clear in that we needed to get back to those aspects that we did well, and multiplayer became an obstacle in the way of doing just that.” [...] The biggest lesson that BioWare learned from Mass Effect: Andromeda’s botched launch was the importance of polish. The game became the butt of jokes and a slew of memes for its hilarious visual glitches, a legacy that leaves Epler feeling torn. “I do think Andromeda was a better game than its reception suggested, but on the flip side, I don’t think the reception was unfair,” he recalls. “At the time of launch, there were technical issues and things that didn’t work.” Avoiding these issues again was of critical importance to Epler and the rest of the team, especially as they sought to get back on players’ good graces. Another lesson that BioWare took from critics of Andromeda, and Inquisition too, was that sometimes building a massive open world doesn’t mean much when it isn’t filled with meaningful content. At the time both games were being developed, open worlds and big explorable spaces had become an industry trend, even in games where they failed to serve the overall vision. BioWare still wanted players to have a sense of discovery in The Veilguard, but also didn’t want to settle for an open-world that the developers couldn’t realistically fill. “We had been doing Dragon Age pre-production on versions of Dragon Age 4, and we did have a version that was a lot more open-world,” Epler says. “But again, we ran into the same problem of how do you make it compelling or narratively interesting? The reception to Andromeda definitely solidified that.”"

"Staying focused on what’s next With Dragon Age: The Veilguard now complete, BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions. The developers’ full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project. While Epler won’t divulge anything about it, he does weigh in on whether BioWare would take another crack at multiplayer. “It’s possible to tell a strong story in a multiplayer game. Final Fantasy XIV does an excellent job,” he says. “Multiplayer also introduces some complications around world states. I make a giant choice in my world, and the world changes.” For games like Dragon Age, the consequences of a player’s choice are intended to impact the narrative moving forward, but for a multiplayer game, it isn’t quite as simple. For example, one player could choose to save a certain person from their fate while another could do the opposite. “It’s funny, because the games I play the most on my personal time are actually multiplayer games,” he says. “But when it comes to crafting these worlds and crafting the experiences, I love the focus that single-player can give you.” Epler also comments on the possibility of some sort of Dragon Age collection, similar to the Mass Effect Legendary Collection that updated the original games for modern consoles in 2021. Having been at Bioware since the first Dragon Age game back in 2009, he would love to see a collection come together, but remastering the first three games in the series would be challenging as they were originally designed using EA’s proprietary game engines. The first two used their own custom Eclipse Engine while Inquisition used Frostbite, a platform famously used to build the Battlefield games. The Mass Effect trilogy, on the other hand, used Unreal Engine, a more flexible and widely popular engine used in game development, which made the remastering process much easier for the Legendary Collection. “I think I’m one of about maybe 20 people left at BioWare who’s actually used Eclipse,” Epler says. “It’s something that’s not going to be as easy Mass Effect, but we do love the original games. Never say never, I guess that’s what it comes down to.” Shifting focus from multiplayer integration to fleshing out the solo narrative ultimately allowed BioWare to finally get The Veilguard to the finish line. “Once [the companions] become the core, all the other pieces start falling into place,” he says. “Statistically, a lot of people just take the first two companions they meet, and that’s their party for the rest of the game. I would say for The Veilguard, try different characters, try different combinations, and get outside your comfort zone.”"

[source]

Rolling Stone interview with John Epler: '‘Dragon Age: The Veilguard’ Is Bioware’s Best Game in Ages. Here’s How They Got There'

Veteran Bioware creative director John Epler looks back on the lessons learned from the studio's failed multiplayer game

Some key excerpts:

"BioWare confirms that there are currently no plans for downloadable expansions" for DA:TV

The devs' "full attention has now shifted entirely to the next Mass Effect as their current project"

[source]

#dragon age: the veilguard #dragon age: dreadwolf #dragon age 4 #the dread wolf rises #da4 #dragon age #bioware #video games #mass effect #next mass effect #long post #longpost #mass effect: andromeda #anthem

133 notes · View notes

katatty · 15 hours ago

Text

Shifting Priorities

Thank you for all the nice comments yesterday! Some really helpful perspectives that gave me a lot of ideas on how I can tackle my simmer's block :)

Mostly, I think I need to trim down the number of neighbourhoods I consider "active" and the amount of projects I am doing in general. I have a hard time letting go of neighbourhoods, especially if I am still somewhat invested in them! But I also need to face the fact that I only have so much free time, and do not want playing the sims to be the sole thing I do with that free time XD

For some neighbourhoods I will also be trying out a more stripped-down approach to blogging, similar to what I've been doing with Driftwood. It makes me a little sad because I like my sims to feel fleshed out as characters and giving them voices is a big part of that! But maybe I can save the prose/dialogue for times when it is particularly needed, rather than including it as a default.

Finally, I am going to prioritise based on what I actually have the most fun with, rather than letting popularity drive my decisions!! Some neighbourhoods I feel sad about potentially retiring because I know people enjoy them, or I feel bad admitting I am never going to finish projects people were excited for, but I have to remember simming is something I do for myself, not for popularity or for other people.

So, plans for my neighbourhoods:

Pleasantview Plus - will continue in its current form for the most part, but holdholds I found less inspiring will just get short summaries rather than extensive documentation. This hood is waaaaaaay too big and I think not that many people follow it all that closely, but it's also my one true love and I would like to start prioritising it again rather than it always being on the backburner

Uberhood Challenge (YouTube Series) - This is a short-term series, and will continue as planned until I finish the challenge, which I'm over halfway through :)

Hollyhead - I hate to say it because I know a lot of people love it, but I feel like I have sorta outgrown this neighbourhood? Some simmers like their settings to be an escape from the real world, and when I made Hollyhead I think it was what I needed too, but these days I find how upbeat & wholesome it is a bit, idk, constraining?? I crave drama and conflict in my stories!! I also have kinda lost interest in the BACC rules and have started to find it more book-keeping and hassle for what I get out of it... Whenever I do open the neighbourhood I still really enjoy actually playing it, and I love the characters so much, but I just haven't found the events interesting enough to want to write about. I think this neighbourhood will not be retired completely (yet), but I will move towards writing much shorter updates in the form of newspaper articles and see if that helps. If by the end of this season I still feel ehhh about it, I might formally end it <3

Driftwood - no complaints about this hood, I'll probably continue with the current style of documenting major events & new builds only

Spruceburg (YouTube series) - I would like to do another season of this next year, after I finish the uberhood challenge! But I will probably go for a schedule of like, one season of series per year, rather than posting consistantly. I enjoy YouTube a lot, but its a lot of work too and I think has majorly taken away from my blogging time this year, which I am mourning now lol!!

The Fiero Legacy - it is probably time to throw in the towel with this and admit I just don't enjoy playing legacy style or with story progression that much! I always enjoy the period where the heir is dating but once they settle down and have kids it becomes a chore and a grind, plus with story progression's time system I always feel rushed and like I can't take a sim out of the house for an outing without potentially missing important milestones - the urban setting feels so wasted when its all family gameplay, haha. Hallie should be at the club!! It was an interesting experiment and a nice change of pace, but idk if I really see myself returning to it. I love the sims themselves and the setting, but whenever I actually load up the neighbourhood I just feel kinda stressed and overwhelmed :(

As for my building projects like Belladonna Cove, perhaps at some point I will get really inspired and return to them but for now they are on indefinite break. I remember saying a few time in the past that I didn't really feel much need to make over Pleasantview and Strangetown because if I wanted nice makoevers I would use frottanas, and tbh I feel the same way about Belladonna Cove - if I was playing it I would just use plumbtales makeovers XD With my past neighbourhood makeovers I was really inspired to make them because there wasn't anything out there that was exactly what I wanted but, well, there's loooooads of nice Belladonna cove makeovers these days so I just don't feel much drive to make my own version I guess?? I think I also have lost interest in building a little becasue I am no longer into super heavily decorated lots - I prefer lighter lots that won't cause lag lol! So yeah, I am probably not retiring from building forever but its no longer a priority for me :)

#blog maintenance #a lot of these were already on unofficial hiatus but hopefully making it more official will clear up my brain :)

29 notes · View notes

gwenyundreiko · 16 hours ago

Text

I need to scream about Arcane S2 (spoilers for the whole season)

Alright, it's been 2 days since I've watched the end of Arcane, and I'm still in a bad mood over it, so I am going to scream into the void about it, and hopefully it will allow me to move on.

I do not like the second season of Arcane.

Season 1 ? Absolute banger, still love it. I love it even more after recently watching it a second time in preparation for season 2.

Season 2 though ? ... I will not go into the details (because I feel like I would need to rewatch it again to be more accurate, and I don't want to do that), so I am just going to write about how I feel about it now that it is over.

Season 2 has left me deeply unsatisfied, to say the least. I think this feeling comes from the fact that most characters' arcs look like they were either cut short, or didn't really go anywhere. This makes the entire story feel pointless; an undeniable marvel of aesthetics and animation put in service of nothing.

I could talk about a lot of the main cast, but I'll only talk about Vi, her relationship with Caitlyn, and the Zaun vs Pilltover theme.

First off : Vi, the character who fought tooth and nails for those she loved and always tried to do the right thing. Accepting responsibility for everyone who looked up to her... and got nothing for it in the end but pain. From the start of the serie, she is set up to be one of the protagonists, along with her sister and Caitlyn. Yet the story feels pervert in the way it insists to both :make Vi suffer without giving her any sort of confort or moment to express her feelings ; and make all of her actions be pointless.

In episode 8, when she says "I always make the wrong choice and lose everyone", we have to admit that from a narrative point of view, she is absolutely right. For the first time, Vi is self pitying. She's shown as vulnerable, doubtful, almost sounding like she's giving up by saying that all she ever does is useless or worse. This is incredibly out of character for her, and yet the story proves her right. Nothing she does matters in any meaningful way. She doesn't even contribute to the final battle : she gets stranded in the defence of the artillery tower (which turned out not to be a key asset in the battle), then go 1v2 Warwick with Jinx, and Jinx ends up sacrificing herself to kill it, but only AFTER the battle is over and all the narrative tension has calmed down. (Sidenote : yes yes I know it is hinted that Jinx is still alive, but still. Let's agree that it's in bad taste for a suicidal character's triumphant moment to be a reckless act of self sacrifice, independently of the outcome.)

Vi gets mistreated throughout the whole storry and gets nothing in the end despite her bravery and efforts. No matter how hard she fought, she still ends up separated from her sister and she still loses Vander. The only thing she gets in the end is a girlfriend with whom she basically had no tender moment since their breakup, making Vi feel like a rescue dog at Caitlyn's house, but let's talk about her relationship with Caitlyn in more depth.

I'll say this first : I love the sex scene. It's tender and passionate. It's a bit awkward, but in such a relatable way that it only makes the moment sweeter. It does an excellent job at showing us how the characters feel about each other. Taken on its own, it's perfect. Two people that love each other so much they just need to have each other right here, right now... I just wish their relationship around it was more fleshed out.

From what we get to see on screen, they get a really messy break up in episode 3, and then never interact again until crossing paths at the commune. In the meantime, Caitlyn has allied herself with Ambessa, declared martial law on Zaun and is oppressing it with the full extent of her legitimate violence... but upon seeing Vi again, she instantly switches side to go against Ambessa with a rushed plan.

We get absolutely no other insight into their emotions or thoughts at this moment. No scene to show that despite their conflicts and standing on opposite sides, there is still tenderness and affection between the two of them that could hint at them getting back together. Instead, Vi calls her a petname once, and it's done, no further convincing needed. (Sidenote again : this makes Caitlyn look impulsive and irrational, when everything that comes before shows us that she is smart, collected and patient. Here, she instantly abandons everything she was previously fighting for, even at the risk of putting her entire city in danger. This includes abandonning her vandetta against Jinx, which is the reason why they split up in the first place, but this isn't adressed between Vi and Cait ever again either.)

After that, Vi holds her accountable for her actions for the time of 1 dialogue.

Then they barely interact again until the jailcell scene. Hell, once the battle starts, I don't think the two of them interact AT ALL until the epilogue.

The lack of substance in the portrayal of their relationship makes this sweet and tender sex scene feel like a spur of the moment thing. An almost self-destructive action from Vi trying to scrape at any possible source of confort after being cut out by her sister. A good thing happening for the wrong reasons. (Mind you, a hate sex scene would have worked wonders in my opinion, but that's not what we got.)

So yeah, given all of that, I'm struggling to see how Vi ending up with Caitlyn is supposed to be a meaningful and happy resolution to her story, when this relationship is barely shown on screen during season 2.

Finally, let's talk about the Zaun vs Piltover situation : it goes nowhere.

An entire 5 acts showing us that Piltover treats Zaun like shit, turning it into a ghetto and leaving it to rot in its own misery . The promo campaign for season 2 teased us a revolution... and in the end, we barely see any change. The way the story resolves implies that now that Zaun and Pilltover have triumphed over a shared ennemy, they grieve together and make peace because they have learned that war comes at too high a cost, and Zaun gets to be represented by ONE councilor.

I'm sorry but either the show tried something and missed, or the show was just incredibly shallow from the beginning. This conflict was set up from the first second of the show by having the main characters be orphaned by cops in a popular uprising which only looks more and more justified as we learn more about Zaun. That is to say that Topside doesn't care about Zaunites. From what we can tell, Heimerdinger has been leading the city for 300 years, and he discovers just now that Zaun has problems ?? Piltover prides itself for being the city of progress and equality, while exploiting the misery of the people that are LITERRALY BENEATH THEM. It's the final shot of THE FIRST SCENE IN THE SHOW, the topside people are sitting ON TOP of Zaun, reaping the benefits while throwing their wastes at them.

I think there's no better illustration for how Piltover considers Zaun than the scene where Jayce announces to the Council that Silco has demanded independance. All the councilors lose their shit. They are OUTRAGED by the demand. Clearly, Piltover considers Zaun its property. People to exploit, whose need and misery they can ignore, and ultimately, a problem to be solved through the police by having them arrested/beaten up/killed.

So either the show was indeed trying to tell a story about class struggle and oppression, and failed to deliver a satisfying conclusion; or the show was only interested in the appearance and flavor of class struggle only as a vessel for the cliché of "the cycle of violence". Which hmm, yeah it's 2024. I don't think anyone needs me to write an entire section about the necessity of fighting for human rights and resisting oppression.

I could have talked about how pitfighter Vi was 60% of the promo for Season 2, and yet was done and gone in a minute, which was also what we got with the promo, or how a French animation studio decided to call an independant, pacifist and egalitarian community " The Commune" (if you know you know); I could have also talked about Jinx's character, and how the show portrays her self healing from her devouring guilt, but I'll stop rambling here. I hate that I have wrote this, because I don't want to spread negativity. I'd rather spend this kind of energy on things I love.

The thing is, I really really wish I enjoyed Arcane season 2, because season 1 means a lot to me. Vi's character awakened something in me. It is representation I never knew I needed and it changed me. I know this sounds silly. It's only a fictionnal story after all, but it helped me grow into a better and more hopeful person. In the end, I just feel like season 2 went too far too fast, and left me behind to try and pick up the pieces of my expectations. If you've made it this far, I sincerely thank you, and I hope you have a beautiful rest of the day.

#arcane #arcane season 2 #vi #vi arcane #caitvi #caitlyn arcane #jinx #jinx arcane

24 notes · View notes

gay-disabled-characters-showdown · 3 days ago

Text

LGBTQ+ Disabled Characters Showdown Round 5, Poll 4

Please be civil in the notes. We will block people if we feel it is necessary. A character being canon LGBTQ+ and disabled was not required to be in this competition. Please check qualifications and propaganda before asking why a character is included. This is not a competition of who is better representation.

Check out the other polls in this round here.

Korra-Avatar: The Legend of Korra

Qualifications:

Korra is not only bisexual, having dated both Asami Sato and Mako, but was and still is disabled by the end of the series. She doesn't magically get better from being poisoned, she's forced to relearn a lot of things: how to walk, how to do things for herself, and even how to fight properly. Her physical disabilities are mixed with extensive trauma and PTSD that prevents her from doing her job as the Avatar throughout Book 4: Balance.

Canonically bisexual, has PTSD, and spent a while partially paralyzed and using a wheelchair.

Bisexual badass who ended up going through about 5038309340 traumatizing events, one of which involved mercury poisoning that had her unable to walk for about a year and left her with lasting PTSD and depression (though again the depression is a little less clear wheras the PTSD was obviously intended to be read as such). There was also her shadow self, but it's unclear whether that was a form of psychosis or a literal spirit. In short, she's bi and has PTSD if you want to stick with the more long term, obviously canon bits.

Propaganda:

She's the Avatar, you gotta deal with it! But, seriously, Avatar Korra was the first onscreen LBGT+ character in the Avatar franchise alongside her girlfriend Asami Sato. While limited in what could be shown onscreen, the two were explictly portrayed as a couple in the 2016 Dark Horse comic "Legend of Korra: Turf Wars". Likewise, her disability never quite went away. She still struggled with trauma, PTSD, and learning how to do things for herself again for two to three years in the time between books 3 and 4 that were shown off in flashbacks during her solo episodes.

She's canonically bi and has PTSD, and disability was an incredibly important theme for her in her show's final season.

i dunno I think i covered all my bases in the qualifying bit but also its 3am and i dont feel like typing more

Anything Else?:

The creators of Korra, Michael Dante DiMartino and Bryan Konietzko, fought long and hard for their show, including taking a massive budget slash circa book 4 to avoid firing half their staff. Likewise, they took to Tumblr and other social media in 2014 to state firmly that Korra and Asami were both bisexual and in love. Here's a link: https://bryankonietzko.tumblr.com/post/105916338157/korrasami-is-canon-you-can-celebrate-it-embrace

The qualifications and propaganda paragraphs correspond, @foulfirerebel is the first submitter and also did the ‘anything else?’ section.

Neil Josten-All For The Game

Qualifications:

I mean he def has PTSD even though it's never like fully fleshed out in the series and also he is demisexual

Propaganda:

Neil goes through so much it's amazing he is still functioning as a person. He bottles up all of his trauma but he still has nightmares and triggers that bring back the trauma he felt from his abusive mafia father and his abusive mother. However, once he lands at PSU to play D1 Exy, he finds a home with all of his other broken teammates and coach. This includes Andrew Minyard, another possible contender for this bracket. While he still has trauma to deal with, he becomes a much more well adjusted and happy person with his teammates. :)

Andrew Minyard-All For The Game

Qualifications:

He’s gay and has some sort of trauma disorder probably.

Propaganda:

Very gay, pretty commonly thought of to have some sort of trauma disorder, he’s neat. I have many thoughts about him as a character but I don’t really feel like writing them.

#polls #poll #disability #disabled characters #lgbtq #lgbtq characters #id in alt text #lgbtq dcs round 5 #korra #tlok korra #the legend of korra #avatar the legend of korra #atlok #neil josten #andrew minyard #all for the game #aftg

21 notes · View notes

ren-144p · 2 days ago

Text

Seconding started with a pin with my whole chest!! That one is SO dear to my heart. Below a few personal favorites to add to the list. Please mind the tags on these :) As mentioned, early Zaundads fandom skewed dark and messy.

the last drop / what was and wasn’t and silco and vander / tales of a knife by revelisms

Last Chance by Blue_Daddys_Girl

There's only one way their story ends, Silco knows. Yet still in their last moment alone together—their first in so many years—he offers Vander one last chance.

it is snowdown by zevlore

It is Snowdown in the undercity, and the snow is soft and grey and slushy, and she is uncomfortable in her skin. Four vignettes into Vander's life.

hit count by ducky (conscious_mess)

An attempt to flesh out their backstory. (Relationship breakdown drabble that got out of hand. Still counts as drabble because they "become sodden by movement through muddy water", so ~nnnyehh~)

Silt Verses by JeanLuciferGohard

Pump 47 is failing. It’s water to their waists now, slick with Fissure-filth and sucking grime. Vander huffs shakily, squinting up the mineshaft like anyone’s coming. “Never thought it’d be like this.” Silco barks a raw, ugly laugh, head lolling back against the rock. “That was always your problem,” he says, “lack of vision.” You learn a lot about a man when you're both about to die underground. Or: Faith is a young man's game. Silco's old before his time. Character Study.

For enjoyers of more light-hearted things, I remember having a great time with these:

Warmth by BiCaptain

The worst part came when her dads came face to face with each other.

The Fluffiest Little Murder Boyfriend uwu by Fiddlezips

Silco is a Yordle. He stands just taller than Vander's thighs, which is a generous comparison. His fur is short, fluffy around his long ears, and grey beneath the dirt. “Zaun Gray” is how he describes it, and his small mouth twitches into a smirk each time.

And for those looking for Zaundads of more smutty variety:

Cage Match by Zkyfall

Life since Silco moved out has been Hell for Vander. Trying to juggle his job with suddenly being primary caregiver for the girls, all while wrestling with the guilt that maybe the separation is all his fault. The stress is killing him and he doesn’t even have his favorite go-to outlet: fantastic sex with Silco. When Vander sees an ad for an app-controlled cock cage, he's intrigued. Finally a way he can get his submission fix, even without his favorite Dom! What could possibly go wrong?

To break new ground by Rimeko

“Now,” Silco adds, “I don’t want your apologies, but I do want your dick. So can we do just that, or do I have to fucking gag you too?” Ahem. Reconciliation sex? Zaundads bingo event: Edging

i'm breakin' a sweat (i think i need some ventilation) by zevlore

“You,” Silco pants, practically gasping for air as Vander continues his assault on his exposed collarbone, hands deftly sliding the rest of his and Silco’s clothes off, “are insatiable.” Silco's been spending too much time working. Vander convinces him to take a break, among other things.

Locked by IAmANonnieMouse (and the following Denied and Freed)

Vander isn’t that strong. If left unchecked, he’s selfish and insatiable, unable to think of anything but his own pleasure. That’s why he needs someone like Silco to keep him in check. To lock him away and throw away the key.

Useless by Fiddlezips

Silco is used to disappointment. After all, his plans—whenever they involve Vander even a little—do have a tendency to fall through.

Unfortunately back in the day I was not utilizing AO3's bookmarks nearly enough so I know I am missing a ton of good ones. New folks should absolutely go out and explore the Silco/Vander tag on their own because I remember there were a lot of incredible fics around these past few years!

Either way, happy reading! It's nice to see the ship getting traction again :)

Anybody want to create a quick quintessential Zaundads fanfic rec list?

I was away for a long time between seasons, so I probably missed a ton but those are some of the longer/meatier ones I remember, particularly one of the more fix-it category.

While the World Turns Around by Blue_Daddys_Girl

In a chance meeting Vander sees Silco for the first time since the fateful day he's come to regret so deeply. Silco has changed—they both have. Vander can't stop thinking about him.

Reconciliation AU by Rimeko

If the cannery scene went down differently, if Vander got thrown into Stillwater with Vi instead of (maybe) dying, and if Silco eventually got them both freed. What, then? What to do with the ruins of what once was? How to deal with love and betrayal and everything that went down in the meantime, and how to move forward.

Stillwater Marriage by Alishatheninth

AU in which Vander does not insist on having one last pipe, therefore gets out of Benzo's shop before Silco has Deckard kill all the Enforcers. Vander decides there's really little to be lost by simply handing the reins to Silco. Silco has to deal with a slightly different set of challenges, and does so in his own, slightly deranged, way.

started with a pin by bloodinthewine

Silco doesn’t expect to find anything extraordinary when he accompanies his daughter to her first Pride parade. Vander, an infamous and experienced leather daddy, finds him anyway. (or The Leather Daddy AU)

And just some personal favorites of mine that I remember:

underground utopia dynasties and dystopia by leonshardt, which I think is the original prostitute!Silco stories.

Old Griefs and Childrens Faiths by GoddessofRoyalty, an A/B/O story which always made me hope for a parent!trap style story where Powder tries to reunite Silco and Vander

There are some mores that I love, including some smut ones, but everybody please mind that season 1 Zaundad fandom often skewed more dark, messy and angsty.

Anybody else have any favorites? Any other popular fics I missed? If somebody was joining late, what would you recommend to them?

#fic recs #ren.txt

110 notes · View notes

dualisume · 1 year ago

Note

i like your biblical references, is there anymore noteable reference from the Bible that you connect with furina?

Actually there is a lot of biblical references for furina!

This one I actually forgot to talk about was during furina and travelers talk inside the carriage ( before furina's trial). I only connected traveler as Judas but I found something oddly familiar with their conversation which is similar to the conversation of Jesus and satan when Jesus was on his fasting. Or the story called, the temptation of the Christ.

It started when Jesus was in time of solitude ( furina her time of solitude to weep for the people of poisson)

Christ being in a 40 day fasting was on his lowest point

( furina on her lowest point after escaping the angry mob)

Satan showed up and tempted Jesus three times ( traveler approached furina and attempted to make furina to open up three times. A temptation similar of jesus

I'll quote the three attempts traveler did this

First. Is this

The second one

And the last one was a cutscene where traveler is urging furina to tell the truth and furina is about to accept the temptation but their time run out.

This whole part of the archon quest reminded me so much of the temptation of Christ and I wouldn't be surprised if mihoyo really references it to that. Furina is after all somewhat reference to Christ and on this matter us, the traveler is the demon who tries to break whatever wall furina had set up.

In terms of temptation of Christ the aim of the demon was for Christ to have filial attitude towards God, on furina's case, us traveler aims for furina to tell the truth, which is on furinas mind an attempt that could destroy the plans focalors had made to save fontaine. Both can end up poorly if they did succumb to the temptation.

#. ooc #/ h e a d c a n o n / misc.#i have more but i want to flesh out this one a lot.#tw: religious references

6 notes · View notes

jyndor · 3 months ago

Text

rebelcaptain week | day one: rebel

for today's prompt (significant moments/rebel) I decided to use newton's third law of motion to highlight two things: 1. how jyn and cassian are radicalized by how fascism and imperialism impacts them personally; and 2. how jyn and cassian's actions spark reactions in the other.

229 notes · View notes

spotaus · 2 months ago

Text

New Age AU (Obtaining Killer)

Hey guys! Through with a bot of stuff for the day and I have a sneaking suspicion that this stress headache will not leave me until I finish some projects for work, so I *may* be m.i.a. for a hot second until they stop.

In the meantime, I want to drop this! (Unedited, unrefined, raw off the slab style)

Andddd @ancha-aus and @papiliovolens ! Hello! (Mutzelputz if u see this, the tags weren't working for some reason, I apologize.)

Hope y'all enjoy!

Ccino had convinced him to leave the castle. After nearly a year had passed since his last true public appearance. Since he'd stolen the apple from his brother. Nine months had passed since he'd sent Dream away. He tried not to think about it.

Nightmare had been finding out a lot about his magic. How it made him jittery, and how he felt like he understood so much more. How it made him deeply paranoid, quick to react.

How it made people listen to him.

He figured it was because he was scary now. The negative magic condensed over every inch of his bone wasn't exactly appealing, and the extra limbs which had sprouted from his spine now acted like his own personal weapons. If someone didn't listen, didn't give him an answer he liked, the limbs moved without him even thinking.

It had taken time to learn to better control them. Even now, they writhed in his wake. His nerves expressed through their lashing and twitching as they hovered just above the ground.

The streets weren't exactly crowded.

Upon word of the King's arrival to this small providence, Nightmare had found that many people fled from his path. His travel party of several soldiers, and himself on horseback. He'd always wanted to ride horses. The traitor twin was someone that every citizen wished to avoid.

Ccino had coaxed him outside with promises of fresh air. Apparently there were promising young members of the city guard that Ccino swore would be wonderful future knights. Young warriors for him to bring up loyally under his name, no fear of betrayal.

It had made sense, at the time, but Nightmare hadn't chosen to recruit any of them.

It wasn't to say he didn't want to. Several of the humans and monsters were very talented, and he did his best to give them praise, but he could tell. None of them wanted to work under him. They didn't like him. Rejection and hatred that had pierced him immediately, he could practically taste it.

Ultimately, they would do better here in their hometown. A place they were passionate about protecting, and with people they cared for. Night would not try to mold promising soldiers into his perfect guard. No matter how smart of an idea it may have been.

And so he'd moved on.

Night had visited several smaller shops, onces which couldn't afford to refuse him, and he bought some fabrics, a trinket, some small thing from each place he stopped by. He payed exactly the price he needed for each thing. He wouldn't bribe his people, either. The best he could do would be to remain neutral.

He did discover, against all odds, that he was enjoying this day out. Ccino was, in fact, usually correct about this sort of thing.

The travel had been enriching. Almost exciting. He'd never gotten out of the castle much at all, this was all new and excitingly mundane.

Good things do not last forever.

It was almost sunset when he noticed it. Torches being set up, a platform prepared. A crowd gathering.

An execution, came the mutter from one of his soldiers. Though he recognized the set-up, Night had never been in attendance to an execution. He was morbidly curious. The crowd held such a contempt. A broiling hunger for blood.

He wished he'd wheeled his horse away when a few people were ushered out of a nearby building.

The prison, maybe?

There weren't many of them. Nightmare dismounted his steed, and much to the dismay of the soldiers at his side, he found himself sinking. Into the growing shadows cast by the dying sun.

He re-emerged beside the stage, where the few people were lined up. Ready for death by hanging.

That trick wasn't one that Nightmare quite understood yet, but he was always drawn to feelings of intense negativity. He knew that, now. Something about these prisoners were bothering him, even at a distance, and he found himself more curious as he stood before them.

His guards, at the back of the crowd, hadn't seemed to figure out where he had gone. He had the time, now, to loom over the small group of prisoners.

The city guards, the trained ones, had likely seen him earlier at their headquarters. They did not speak even a word against him as he stared.

Nightmare stared at these faces.

A dog monster, scrappy and scarred, black fur clashing against a few patches of white. One of her ears was missing.

A pair of humans, both men, one with long, curly red hair and another with short-cropped red hair and the beginnings of a beard. Maybe they were brothers?

A skeleton. His sockets dripped with black magic, and his soul was a piercing crimson, just infront of his chest.

A flame monster, small and stout. Their flames a flickering green and purple. One of their eyes had a patch over it.

Nightmare was not great at determining emotions yet. He was hardly versed in his own feelings, but there had been improvement recently. Understanding new emotions had been coming more naturally to him.

Sometimes it hurt, but he was learning.

Now, past the blossoms of a headache, he felt a bit baffled as he subconsciously picked through the negativity these monsters exuded. Their fear. Their pain. Their loss, and their anger.

Oh.

"Only one of you is guilty."

He'd said it without thinking, practically announcing it with a voice that still felt unnaturally deep. A voice which rattled his ribcage and seemed to force past the barrier of darkness around him.

The group before him seemed startled. Confused.

Well, all but the skeleton, who seemed to only raise his skull slightly. As though just noticing Nightmare was there.

"How could you have possibly been jailed in the first place?" He muttered a bit quieter to himself.

He knew, deep down, that there were many, many rules in place for situations like this. Laws which he could challenge. People he could speak to. He could appoint members of his court to each of these people and try to earn their innocence through the rites of the law.

Then again, he remembered the rage of the crowd. The frustration of the people waiting to see these killings take place.

He didn't know what to do.

Now the prisoners, especially the two humans, were staring at him hopefully. He'd managed to shatter the negativity a bit. He believed them. He knew this was wrong.

"I don't know..."

The mutter came again unprompted.

These people would not have the means to repay him for his help. He couldn't just waive fees, or risk his court turning against him. He couldn't afford enemies being made so close to his inner circle.

He couldn't just leave them, though. Not after he'd seen the injustice of it all.

Stuck in his own thoughts, he was drawn out of it by a snickering laugh.

"Just set them free." A voice followed, "You are our King, aren't you?"

Nightmare then found his eyes drawn to the skeleton.

The others had eased themselves away from him. He stood, now, almost alone. He seemed unbothered by speaking up, his sockets held in an almost lazy posture. Tension going completely un-held.

He grinned up as the King, and seemed to watch contentedly as the thought settled in Nightmare's skull.

He could do that. Simply waive their charges. Pardon them. He could do that, surely. Many royals had done it before him for less certain terms. His mother had plenty of times.

"And you are guilty. You'll still be hanged. You know this, don't you?" Nightmare asked.

That was when the Skeleton's lazy sockets seemed to tighten with a sort of glee. Some hidden joke Nightmare wasn't privy to.

"Hmm." This was a poor choice. This was a bad decision. "Tell me, quickly, how you came to be here. Before I proceed?"

Nightmare didn't know why he was asking. He was... curious. Just like he had always been.

Very few people would ever speak straight to his face. Ccino, that was the only one who'd done it since his change. Since the prophecy. This skeleton had done it. He'd spoken when no one else could muster even a plea.

The silence he seemed to bring to every room. Broken, just briefly.

The skeleton stared at him a moment.

"Name's Killer, your majesty." The tone was mocking. "A while back a buddy of mine got into hot water, and I decided to help them out. Now, plenty of bodies later, I'm the one stuck on death row."

Simple. An admission of guilt.

Nightmare stared at him some more.

Finally, it seemed his frantic guards had noticed him. Found him. They rushed to his side, though not as fast as he would've liked. He could feel the frustration seeping from each armored body around him.

"You don't have an aversion to it," Nightmare voiced, "Killing, I mean."

Killer nodded. Unashamed.

It felt strangely calm, still. Perhaps it was because the crowd was still chattering. They likely hadn't noticed Nightmare at all.

The king turned to the city guard, still stood on the steps. "Free these four people. My judgement decrees them as not-guilty."

And, before any time could pass in the slightest. "Killer, I would like you to accompany me, before you abscond."

He'd noticed it. Killer had undone his cuffs before their conversation. Completely freeing himself from his weak imprisonment.

Killer seemed amused at the concept of sticking around to chat.

"If you would, I would like to recruit your services at my castle. I need a man who is willing to kill. And kill swiftly." Ccino said to establish an image. It was obvious now that his reputation would remain in the gutter, no matter what choices he made. He was not Dream.

Killer's sockets narrowed.

"And what would I get for being your little hunting dog?" Again, it was bold. It was new.

Nightmare was sure his expression hadn't changed since he'd come before the group. That same angry glare that sat permanently along his skull. The magic had an image to project.

His tendrils flicked, slightly.

"Payment, room, Fresh meals, and any other amenities you may like, so long as it does not break our treasury." He replied, "All I ask is that you simply obey me. And Me alone."

Not true. He'd probably ask for him to listen to Ccino as well. Once he knew for certain he'd stay.

Killer seemed to be thinking. He eyed they king, up and down. He looked to each of the guard around the king. The ones who were back in position now, though Nightmare could feel their annoyance. Their confusion.

Then Killer turned.

Then he turned back.

"Mm. Can't be worse than the ol' noose." Killer replied. "Funny way to run a country, my king. Hiring the first murderer you spot?"

Nightmare didn't humor that with a response. He was honestly shocked the skeleton had even agreed.

Though, all of that negativity had been swapped out for a glee. Something deep in Killer had changed during their brief interaction. A hope. Night could barely grasp the edges of its existence with his subconscious. But it was there.

He ignored the crowds as they grew confused. He ignored the worry pouring from the criminals as he had them released and informed them of their pardon.

He did not ignore when his guards told someone to keep their distance. He glanced up. Killer was standing beyond the guards, looking bored.

Nightmare, trusting fool he was, didn't even ask a guard to watch him to ensure he stayed put.

"Stand down." He ordered the guard, who begrudgingly allowed the skeleton to smugly slip past.

His tendrils kept the monster at a distance Night preferred all on their own. He seemed to take the hint.

"They're all gonna be dead by morning, you know." Killer voiced easily.

Nightmare turned to him, confused. What did he mean by that? He'd pardoned them?

"Are you deaf? The crowd wanted us dead, especially me." He chuckled, "Leaving them here is definitely going to get them killed. If the crowd doesn't rip them apart the second you leave, then it'll happen at night. There will be no witnesses."

Oh... Night hadn't fathomed that these people could turn on the innocent once declared. It hadn't even crossed his mind. Did they have a home to return to? A family they put at risk?

The noose was a fast death, but being murdered? That would've been so much worse.

He could tell, by the way they evaded looking at Killer, that he was right. Nightmare would be sentencing them to a new sort of death if he did it like this.

But he didn't have time for a trial. Or several. The sun was going down, abd Ccino expected him back. The castle needed him present, or they might revolt.

Someone might hurt Ccino.

Oh, he was such a poor ruler. He did not know his people well enough. How he lamented the lessons Dream had taken about crowds and current issues abd how to be likeable.

Night didn't know how to handle this. He was still learning!

A trembled in his hand. He tucked the limb quickly away from where it had been lightly clutching his tunics thick fabric, now hiding it beneath his cloak.

"Killer is right. It won't be safe here, for any of you." He spoke. Thank the gods it didn't sound as shaken as he felt. "I extend an offer to you all. You may stay here, or you may come take up positions among my staff back at the castle. Unlike Killer, I do not expect any crime from you, but you will be paid and housed."

The offer was met with a roar of frustration from the crowd, Nightmare chose to allow his guards to handle it. He watched, carefully, as the four looked between eachother.

The brothers agreed first. (They introduced themselves as brothers as they knelt in thanks.) Then the Dog. She said she had no family left to watch over, starting a new life would be for the best.

The flame refused, saying they would leave town by morning, and try to stay safe.

And so, Nightmare left the town with four new party members. Each had been provided a horse, each tied to one of the guards. Aside from Killer, whose steed was held personally by Nightmare.

He figured Ccino would chew him out for this, for bringing criminals into the castle when he was sent to collect soldiers, but Nightmare had a good feeling about these ones.

They did not hate him. Or fear him. He was helping them. And it felt good.

#hoping this posts. i put it into drafts first...#new age au #Night is a little poorly written here. but I promise it's intentional.#i love making the narration feel just as displaced as the character it's followinh #also. might write smth for Killer's pov of this because I can promise you #90% of it is “this loser has no clue what the fuck he”#'s doing“#in a mix of awe and amusement #and he 100% started with ulterior motives and ended up having a change of heart because of the whole #him sensing vaguely that Night was a weird paranoid kid still #OH #and that odd bit in the middle where Night is doing stuff isn't fleshed out very well #but it's meant to be a show of Night making sure his presence is known + gauging how people react to him being perfectly normal #and more importantly #he lost track of his plans. he's actually not supposed to be doing that. he's still a kid and he wanted to explore!#mm #okay #one more note #Nightmare takes those people back with him right? his castle staff is like 20% people from before and 80% people he freed from #unlawful situations or took in when they had nothing #the public sees it as him taking in shifty #evil criminals. but really? these people look up to nightmare because they were at their lowest and now have stable lives + homes and even #families sometimes #it's just cool #inside the castle is a lot safer than outside #even tho Ccino is still the only one who prepares Night's meals I think a good hunk of the staff would maul anyone they found w/ poison in a #mile radius of the kitchen.#raughhhh #okay fr last thing #I love Killer :] Him being the first is so important to me and I think he deserves the happiness ever

40 notes · View notes

dinsbeskar · 5 hours ago

Text

Hooooooo boy I have a Lot of Feelings.

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

My heart already hurts!!! Noooooooo

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

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

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

Hahahahaha Galadriel oh my god 😂😂😂

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

THE WAY MY BREATH JUST CEASED 👀💀

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

IT'S OUR BOY HERE HE IS

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

CURSED YEARNING OH MY GOD

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

His tan flexed muscles...

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

NO NOT DISAPPOINTED NOOOO

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oooof. No comment, this pains me deeply

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

OUCH

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

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

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

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

Oh this is gorgeous 😍 sparkly ginger loser 😂😂

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

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

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

GORGEOUS, BEAUTIFUL, BREATHTAKING

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

— FOREVER BOUND

PAIRING — Sauron x fem!Maia!Reader

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

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

WORD COUNT — 7,930

ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.

FOREVER BOUND

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No other Maia except for one.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I welcome you to try,” Míriel nodded.

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

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

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

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

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

“Stayed?!” Galadriel barked at him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Indeed, he was not.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And?” She asked.

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

“The audacity…” She sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

MASTERLIST

#fic rec #sauron x reader

73 notes · View notes