#like if there was a sequel that would make sense

[sassydefendorflower]

Holy Server B@tman! Fanfic Rec List 2.0

Hello and welcome back to a very special fanfic rec list! 

The members of the amazing Holy Server B@tman! Server are an extremely talented bunch - many great artists and writers together in one place to foster each other’s creativity and joy to participate in fandom.

That has to be celebrated! 

So, please welcome a list of stories our writers loved to create, their very own Greatest Hits!

(please click on your own discretion - you’ll find the appropriate warnings on ao3)

Fujiwhara Effect by byrambles / @byrambles

Fujiwhara Effect: When two tropical cyclones spinning in the same direction pass so close to each other than they begin spinning around a common center. Or: Dick is NOT a fan of Bruce’s new kid (seriously, WHO brings home a new kid weeks after the old one moves out and then doesn’t even have the courtesy to tell – ). When he gets trapped in Gotham by an East Coast hurricane, though, he has to figure out how to be in the same room as Jason without losing it.

byrambles's words: This was so much fun to write! I think it has a sweet mix of angst and fluff — plus a silly little surprise part-way through!

The Lines that Bond Us by canaf_lilah

Reclusive author Bruce Wayne's most recent book, The Bat Man, was a critical success and a mass market flop. As he struggles to make sense of a sequel, he shocks no one more than himself when he brings home recently orphaned Dick Grayson. Bruce could never have predicted the impact on his life - and his writing - the remarkably resilient young acrobat would have. Batman and Robin may only exist on the pages of Bruce's books, but that doesn't stop them from saving the people they touch.

Lilah's words: to me this is by far the best fic I've ever written. I'm determined to finish it one day, but don't be too put off by the incomplete status! It works well as a standalone.

red like blood (they won't wash clean) by silver_the_phoenix

Tim snaps. It's a lot bloodier than he thought it would be.

Silver's words: I started this one because Tim deserves to go a little feral, as a treat; and I finished it because I'm a simp for Good Brother Jason Todd.

Cared For by 1Zukoneedsafamily2 / @trashcollectshere

Jason smirked as he stood over The Replacement. He stroked the feathers of the splayed-out wings, before he gripped a group of feathers and yanked. Not hard enough to pull out feathers but he wanted him awake when the fun started.

Krys' words: also everyone loves a tower fic right???

Brother, Go Find Your Brother by sleepingcreep (JaySgrech) / @misplacedspleen

Brother, go find your brother: A method of finding something lost by attempting to lose something similar in the same way, in the hopes that it gets lost in the same place and both can be found. “You should match, right?” The grin cracked wider as the lanky captor rolled the knife between their fingers, strolling closer to where Tim was pinned to the wall. Jason didn’t comprehend what the creep meant, too focused on trying to pull his hands against the cuffs in the right way to pop his thumb out of place to get free. There are many years of scars between Jason and Tim before they match.

Jay's words: I'm reccing it because I'm proud of how the settings turned out and I think I wrote a unique take on Jason and Tim's relationship

dirt piling up, putting me to bed by rutaceae / @applejee

Jason never imagined that a simple trip to a bookshop could end with him trapped in the basement of a collapsed building with Tim, but you don't often get what you imagined when you live in Gotham.

Luka's words: i’m quite happy with how contained this little fic is (for me); i always wanted to stab someone, and have someone else panic so bad they don’t realise they’re fucked up themself. fun times!!

Do-Si-Do's Churros & Other Curious Things About Love by sElkieNight60 / @selkienight60

Being a beta in a house full of alpha’s is rough. Especially if you’re trying to be heard.

Selkie's words: I like it because I really enjoy reading Platonic Omegaverse stories, and the Batfamily are so unrepresented here, (I say, in the meaning that I simply crave more of them, there are truthfully quite a few out there, but I just enjoy them so much).

Maui Melon Mint by motleyfam / @motleyfam

In the case of Bats vs. Stomach Bug, there can only be one victor.

Motley's words: I had a ton of fun writing from Damian’s POV for a change and letting Alfred wear his sassy pants

Writer's Cellblock by pinstripedJackalope / @the-ghost-of-jason-todd

Mystery writer and father to five, Bruce Wayne has no great fortunes to fall back on. No reserve of social charisma, no family jewels. He no longer has a butler, though Alfred does his best to visit regularly. He is, in short, not the kind of man who can buy freedom. Heck, he can barely make ends meet some months. So you can understand the… concern… he feels when, late one night, two FBI agents come knocking at his door.

K's words: ngl it was hard to pick a fic, and i would have picked one with more than one chapter but i always did think this one was kind of fun

Golden Silence, Golden Yolks by BabblingBookends / @babblingbookends

Words between Dick and Bruce have never been easy. Dick talks, Bruce doesn’t listen. Bruce talks, Dick is expected to listen. Better if neither of them speak at all.

Babbles' words: If you watch a TV show for long enough, there will inevitably be some character moments in a diner, and I just think that's fun, hence this fic!

keep your head up (it's a cruel world) by lookforanewangle / @lookforanewangle

“If the past is anything to go on, sir,” he says kindly, “this boy will be in your care for a good many lifetimes, and you will do all you can to keep him safe, just like you have with the others.” Or, the Batfam/The Old Guard reverse verse au with Dick's introduction to the world of immortals

Lyss' words: I put a lot of work into this one and while I know reverse verse isn't everyone's cup of tea, I think it works best in this universe in this order, with many surprises yet to come, and room for this universe to grow!

A Promise to Stay by xerzi / @xerziartblog

No one needed Tim Drake, but Tim Drake still needed to be needed. And well, who better to choose than the one person who could never stop needing him? So inherently broken that his job would never be finished. Yet so unfortunately resilient that he would never be left the sole survivor. And so desperate to serve that he would never be betrayed again. In other words, no one else needed Tim Drake, but certainly, he knew there was someone who could make use of his particular skill set. - Tim Drake, 12-year-old independent adult, professional birdwatcher, is offered everything he’s ever wanted…for the low, low price of his verbal agreement. All he has to do is say yes.

Xerzi's words: I just want to put Tim Drake in a jar and try to figure out what's wrong with him…so I put TWO Tim Drakes in the same jar so they can work together to figure out what's wrong with them (and how to fix it)

The End of Man by AuroraKant / @sassydefendorflower

Dick Grayson wasn’t meant to be caged in, but then again… Dick Grayson wasn’t a murderer, and look at him now. (was this what insanity felt like?) Dick Grayson gets captured, forced to shift, and put into a cage - surely, this is the worst that can happen?

Aurora's words: Look... I always wanted to write a deranged Shifter AU in which Dick Grayson goes absolutely mental. What can I say? I love it when my boy is broken and covered in blood <3

Catching Stars and Comets by Faeriekit

From this tumblr prompt: "Reverse Robins AU but instead of making Damian oldest and going down the line so on and so forth, it’s a bunch of assembled weird vigilante-crime men and their accidentally adopted autistic eight year old rich boy, Bruce, who calls himself “batkid” for reasons beyond their mutual understanding of expected kid behavior."

Faeriekit's words: it's been a fun AU to work on, I hope people enjoy it, also it's got kids. It's basically an ageswap!AU where all the batkids are "villains" without Bruce's influence. And it was either this fic or the bees.

cardboard box by A_Canceled_Stamp / @a-canceled-stamp

Robin!Tim is exposed to Ivy's cuddle pollen. For the first time, he reaches out to Bruce for help. How he wishes he hadn't.

Stamp's words: this is my first hurt/no comfort fic and I am very happy with how it turned out! The comments I've gotten on it always make me cackle lmao

a flower called you has bloomed by dottie_dc / @dottie-wan-kenobi

The real problem is that, well. Last time Tim went undercover, he kind of… came home and embarrassed himself. It’s not that he’s shy about being seen in disguise, okay? They can all tease him all they want but it doesn’t bother him. He has way more blackmail on his siblings than they do him, so whatever. It’s just… Caroline Hill is a different story.

Dottie's words: I saw the inspo art and it gave me immediate motivation to write something, which was really fun. I loved writing it and seeing people in the comments be able to relate. queer headcanons my beloved <3

Of The Covenant by Kgraces / @kgraces

Dick Grayson is many things, and foremost among those, he's a detective. He can't stop himself from noticing things about Tim Drake — things that make him question not only his home life but his relationship with Bruce Wayne, too. (Things spiral from there.)

Gracie's words: I’m gonna toss my current longfic your way so hopefully it motivates me to work on it more lmao. It’s a Dick & Tim fic where Dick basically takes a look at all the adults in Tim’s life and goes “is anyone going to take care of this feral, unsupervised child? No? Guess he’s my responsibility now.”

Now and Then by librarylexicon / @librarylexicon

Dick’s spent the past few months recovering from an ordeal he’d rather not think about, so when Bruce asks him to spend quality time with Tim outside of their masks, he instantly agrees. Amid conversations, itineraries, nightmares, photos, revelations and a whole lot of chocolate, he and Tim navigate the Great Ocean Road—and learn more about themselves and each other along the way.

lily's words: Dick and Tim are my favourite Batboys, so I've been wanting to write a fic about them for a long time, because of their long history and close brotherly relationship in the comics. This story is a love letter to their bond, and I'm very pleased with the way all the emotional whump turned out!

How to tape a card castle by Fleur_de_Violette / @fleur-de-violette

Dick saves the new Robin one day. This is it. This is all. It’s not that he doesn’t want to have a relationship with Jason, it’s just that it’s too complicated. He doesn’t know how to deal with being an adult on top of being Nightwing. He can’t deal with Jason, with what Jason represents, on top of it. Except, when a small injury doesn’t heal up the way it’s supposed to, he ends up being the one who needs saving and he’s finally forced to face the new Robin.

Violette's words: This is my longest published fic so far ! I really enjoyed writing it, both the Robin Jason and Dick part and the little case stories in between and I'm happy about how it turned out!

See You At Your Worst by wildsofmarch / @wildsofmarch

Dick has only been a mob enforcer for six months, but delivering a shipment of guns to an up-and-coming crime lord in Gotham should have been easy. All he needs to do is win the man's trust and secure him as a repeat customer. Unfortunately, the Red Hood is not impressed with him.

Wilds' words: I like this one because I go ham with the identity porn!

The Nature of Things by FidotheFinch / @fidothefinch

After a mission gone wrong and a spat with Drake, Robin is benched. Worse than that: Damian is grounded. As serendipity would have it, it gives Damian the opportunity to facilitate the rehabilitation of the manor's new ward, a dog Batman rescued from a fighting ring.

Fido's words: I got to memorialize pieces of my childhood pups in this story, and it was my first fic in the fandom

in vitro by genericlesbian72 / @femmescooter

Shadow-girl did not know much. She didn't need to. But she knew her first kill would be for the baby.

Hedgehog's words: This fic was a challenge to myself on how Cassandra would view her first kill, without words to describe it, while also a take on ‘joining the Batfamily early’ for her that I haven’t seen much before.

this one takes the cake by carol_in_au / @carol-in-au

Jason took a sip from his glass, slowly, synching it with Bruce's words. Bruce cleared his throat, and continued with an authoriative tone that was so not him. "I have something to announce." Bruce Wayne has an announcement to make

Chrys' words: It's fast-paced, has a good comedic timing, a bit of fluff in some moments. When I reread it, I found it pleasant to read and I was quite happy I created it

presumptions by Valkirin / @valkirinii

Batman is away on a long mission with the Justice League when Red Hood attacks Robin in Titans Tower. Red Hood thinks that hurting Robin will get Batman's attention. He doesn't expect Nightwing. Nightwing doesn't know what to expect from Red Hood, Gotham's newest rogue.

Trixie's words: It's one of my favorites that doesn't seem to get as much attention. It's also really fun to let Dick Grayson be angry and intimidating.

Operation Friendship Helmet by goldenraeofsun / @raeofsoleil

When Red Hood meets Dick, he seems almost friendly, compared to the violent hostility he showed Batman and Robin. Maybe, if Dick plays his cards right, he can turn Red Hood from a crime boss to a vigilante. But the closer he gets to Hood, the question nags louder and louder: why does Red Hood seem so familiar?

Rae's words: This is the first time I really dove into my favorite trope, secret identities, complete with a big reveal at the end.

Roadtrip to Nowhere by Ghxst_Bird / @ghost-bxrd

“For the last time, I’m not modifying a car we’ll be ditching a few towns over.” “Why, you got better things to do?” “Yeah, getting food on the table, you leech.” Jason goes on an impromptu road trip with an ex-Talon and ends up running into a family member… who still thinks he’s dead. Oops.

Ghost's words: Calvin Rose deserves more love in this fandom!

Q is for Quintessential by writergeek / @writergeek

"Rodney...you're talking about altering the timeline here." Well...yeah. Wasn't that the point? "...I want you to have a backup plan." Of course he had a backup plan. At this point he could probably list them all by alphabetical order. Or...the story of the backup plan(s) Rodney never wanted to use to save 12 days 25 years 48000 years mankind.

WG's words: not a DC fic, it actually comes from my old fandom, SGA. i just... i enjoy the time loop shenanigans and the fixit nature of it (which needs fixing only bc i broke it shush), both tropes i adore reading (and writing, apparently)

Leaving The Light by TheCallOfTheSea

Jason is alive, but he has fallen. Can the Batfamily save him?

M&M's words: I enjoyed exploring Jason as a villain, but it wasn’t easy writing relentless angst! I still brought out his humanity in a way.

closet space by adelfie / @adelfie

“Hi,” she says in a breathless rush, then takes a moment to swallow and wet her lips. “I, uh, need your help?” “Are you dying?” “N-not exactly.” “Then you don’t need me,” comes Jason’s lazy, uninterested reply. The call ends with a click. . Steph doesn't know what's more embarrassing: that she's been locked in a closet during a party, or the fact that her "friends" aren't really her friends. And to top it all off, Jason's the only one who can come rescue her.

adelfie's words: I love that Steph isn't fighting a big bad villain -- there's something so soft and strong in realizing that other people's judgments aren't what truly matter.

penance by cuephrase / @cuephrase

After Tim dies, his soul remains stuck as a ghost at the Manor. Forced to watch Dick and Bruce grieve him and unable to do anything, the only thing making the afterlife bearable is Jason. Until the day his ghost departs.  Tim assumes that Jason has passed on. But then the Red Hood breaks into the Cave. And for the first time, someone can see Tim.

Cue's words: i just had an inordinately fun time writing it!! there was a lot of catharsis in the process, and i’m very proud of the ending because i feel like i was able to preserve the fic’s bittersweetness- like the happy ending didn’t dilute the sorrow and instead they were able to complement each other

two vigilantes carry a cake across gotham by JBS_Forever / @jbsforever

In a scheming attempt to make them bond, Bruce forces Jason and Tim on what should be a simple quest: retrieve Alfred’s birthday cake from across town and make it back before the party. But this is Gotham. And nothing is ever simple in Gotham.

JBS' words: it's a story that centers around jason learning just how much crime alley appreciates him. it's also a sibling bonding fic between jason and tim

Ghosts From The Past by red_jaebyrd / @red-jaebyrd

Tim stared at an old poster of the ‘The Flying Graysons’ and his stomach dropped. He immediately fixated on the young boy’s smiling face with his eyes bright and full of life; frozen in time in eternal happiness. It was such a sharp contrast to the last memory Tim had of the youngest Grayson laying broken and still on the circus floor. Tim sighed. He wasn’t just at any old circus. He was back at Haly’s Circus where his nightmares had started and never really stopped. Or Bruce is Ghost Hunter and takes Jason and Tim with him to investigate strange happenings at Haly's Circus.

Jae's words: I wanted to try and write my own version of a no capes au adding in my own lore about the characters and their new world.

sons of sky by ScarlettSwordMoon, Kiwilart / @kiwilart

Dick is thirteen, leader of the Teen Titans, and already starting to chaff under Bruce’s thumb. When Bruce gets de-aged to fourteen, Dick thinks this experience will finally bring their partnership back to working order. It doesn’t. And then it does.

Scarlett's words: This fic has challenged me in so many fun directions. It is terrifying and exhilarating to write young!Bruce and to really try my hand at a big novel length plot line. Of all my WIPs, this is the most fun to work on because I'm working with an artist, Kiwili, who supports me during the loneliest parts of the drafting process, and also draws amazing art for the fic. I'm very proud of what we've done so far and very excited to be close to finishing.

we'll meet again some sunny day by Ms_Trickster / @ms-trickster

When Talia rests a hand atop her bed, the sound of paper crunching beneath it fills her ears.

Missy's words: Talia is a character that deserves a lot more depth and affection and it was a blast to write a story in which she is loved.

[schoenpepper]

How about for our early xmas gift, you give us a version where Yuu comes back to twst again🙂

(You broke my heart po💔)

Maybe This Time

Intro: Everything changed after you left. But maybe he still stayed the same.

Warnings: bad grammar, awful writing, not proofread, jade is veryy bad, kinda yandere ish

A/N: Counted as a sequel to this, though you can probably read it as a standalone. Sige na nga anonnie merry xmas happy new year nlng sayo haha. Maybe this tiiiime it'll be lovin' they'll find—*gets shot*

Masterlist

Jade forgets what it's like to live.

The day you left, all color drained from the world he resides in. Rather, your absence pushed him from being an active participant into one that only watches.

Still, it only takes him a day to get back to work.

"You can take a longer break."

He waves off Azul with such a well-practiced smile even he might believe it. "I don't need a break. What is it for, even? There's no use reminiscing over such boring things."

Boring.

Boring boring boring.

The word makes him livid. It makes him seethe with a burning, passionate anger he was unaware was even stored within him. Maybe that's why you left. Maybe Jade failed to excite you. He and his brother are people that stay because of interest, so perhaps the reason you left was because Jade could no longer interest you. Is that it?

Why else?

Why else would you shatter him the first chance that you get?

It takes him one week to forget.

Not you. Sevens know he'll never forget you. You were a whirlwind that crashed through everything he knew and smashed him to smithereens. It takes him a week to forget that he's still hiding his pain.

He forgets he's in pain.

You're a rotting, festering wound that he's buried under layers of pretend. He's such a good actor even Floyd is—

"Stop cryin'."

Well. Maybe not Floyd. Jade raises a hand to his cheek and finds no tears. "You weren't crying. But I made you look, right?" Floyd grins, "Hurry and pack. Maybe nonna can help you get over shrimpy. She's real good at life advice~"

He's sure life advice won't help, but it wouldn't hurt (any more) to try.

The waters of the Coral Sea are frigid. It doesn't numb him enough when he's so used to it, but it's alright. He's fine, anyway. There's no more regret. No more bitter hatred. Only the familiar salt of the ocean water. His parents mean well when they fret over him, asking his twin brother for details. His grandmother is worriedly chattering over his shoulder, and he's made aware that he's unable to fool them this time. He's good at pretending. His family couldn't pick out his faux smiles when he's entangled in mischief, nor could they identify the mock innocence he likes to act out when he gets into fights with other mer. But now, why now? Why are they able to press their hand on that beating, dead thing in his chest and attempt to comfort it when the only thing it wants to do is wallow and wither in nothingness?

They couldn't tell when he was pretending to be good.

But they can tell that he's pretending to be okay.

It doesn't make sense.

It takes one month for everything to fall back in routine. Sleeping potions and pills and spells aid in nights when he's preoccupied with memories of a person he wished never existed at all.

His grades are higher than they'd ever been, and he's so ridiculously productive. It's all on track. Everything is just as it was before you. There was a time in his life before you. He can fill in the empty spot you'd left behind with dirt and the pieces of himself you'd killed that fateful day.

And thus, there will be a time after you.

"Jade," Azul hands him a familiar plush toy, "Floyd told me to give this back to you."

The felt shrimp plushie is mocking him; there is no other explanation. It's one half of a pair, actually. In some dingy arcade in town was a claw machine filled with small mushroom, shrimp, egg, onion, and garlic plushies. The owner called the machine "shrimp fried crane game". You were the one to win one mushroom plushie you kept for yourself, and you gave him the shrimp.

The mushroom was in your suitcase.

In his rampage (he wouldn't call it that, really), he had destroyed everything that reminded him of you that same night, or rather, early morning. He watched polaroids and love letters burn inside a metal dumpster he'd hauled from school grounds. The shrimp wasn't part of the bonfire.

It seems Floyd had snuck it away.

He inspects the toy with his usual smile, tight-lipped and close-eyed, nodding at Azul. He wants it out of his sight for a long, long time. If it could feel as forgotten as he felt, let those feelings be transferred to you. He wishes you pain and agony and guilt and regret.

It takes one year for him to let out a genuine chuckle.

His twin brother stares at him like he'd grown a second head, and Jade is aware it's unusual. Even though the joke he'd laughed at was so inane, the fact of the matter was that he laughed, which in itself is so strange. Perhaps this is a good thing. No, it can only be a good thing. What is it if not a sign that he's healing?

And soon, he won't remember you at all.

And you will cease to exist in his mind.

But it's not meant to happen today.

No, with that little laugh, grief like several tonnes of cement hit him right where it hurts the most; it's heavy, and debilitating, and it makes it nigh impossible for him to even breathe.

(Because you were the air he once consumed, and neither humans nor mer are made for such long term suffocation.)

"I've never seen you laugh before," the young man in front of him smiles with thick, syrupy lovesickness, "it suits you."

The person is an underclassman who'd been following him around recently. Like a poor mockup of your silhouette, he hears the same promises you couldn't keep from the mouth of another. It irks him more than he'd like to admit, because if he does, then it means admitting that he still remembers you. It means he still holds you up in his altar and lights flames in your name.

He does not.

Whoever says otherwise, whether it be Floyd or Azul, or Silver or Riddle; they all lie.

He only remembers you in anger. In bouts of madness that makes him question your existence, it is then that your name leaves his lips.

It takes one decade.

For what?

For forgiveness? For the hate to fade?

On his 27th birthday, his phone rings with a number he's long since engraved in his heart.

Jade forgot how to live in your absence.

In the decade you'd left, he only existed. It is a passive state of consistent routine that allows him to appear normal to his peers. Still, his closest people know he was left incomplete. He became a creature without a sense of purpose, and it was a sad thing. How pitiful it was for a predator to be reduced to a vessel containing shards of a broken heart.

Still, it is your name that he finds. It is your number.

A number from a phone kept in some dark corner of NRC's storage room. It's likely a student who decided to scroll through your contacts and found his contact name amusing. You did have quite the strange penchant for putting strange names in your contact list.

He answers the call in a moment of boredom.

There is nothing interesting to do in a business party.

"Hello? Jade?"

He stops. There is nothing in this world or yours that could erase each and every memory he's ever made with you. The voice is one he's heard often and dreams and even more in nightmares; it has replaced the voice of his dead conscience and pushed him to a meaningless drifting existence instead of finding thrill in things you would despise him for.

It's been a decade and instead of forgetting you, he didn't know when he melded you into his bones and stitched you into the fabric of his soul, but he knows you more than he knows himself.

"I'm back."

There is no more bitter hatred. There is no more regret.

"Can you pick me up?"

In one moment, it all dissipates into nothingness and there is only you.

Jade remembers how to breathe again. He feels that withered thing in his chest beat once more, and he feels alive.

It takes one decade for you to return.

And he didn't know he was waiting for you, but then, what could every second without you have meant if not just an endless eternity of patiently waiting?

"Did you see my message?"

"I did."

"Are you not afraid I'll make good on my promise?"

"I've never been afraid of you."

Yet, perhaps you should be. He may no longer despise you with every fiber of his being, but you'd betrayed him and lost his trust. There will be no more second chances. You will stay unlike before, and if he must break every mirror in the world to ensure his heart remains beating, then it will be all too easy.

Taglist:

@yummyyummyinmytumny @lemon-koii @fsh1

[just-trying-to-fangirl-in-peace]

Further inspiration (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)

❕but also Sauron x Celebrimbor + slight Celebrimbor x reader❕

-> in which you discover Annatar aiding Celebrimbor in his work with the same unconventional method he used with you, but that doesn’t mean he has discarded you

Warnings: smut, voyeurism kink, exhibitionism kink, tease and denial, handjob (Annatar x Celebrimbor, Annatar x Reader) oral (R + C receiving from A), mutual masturbation (C x R), p in v (A x R), manipulation cause you still don’t know he’s Sauron, Sauron will have more influence over the Rings if he soft doms their creators or something, I just wanted to write pure filth

Note: sequel to Inspiration. I wasn’t expecting to write something like this but the idea wouldn’t leave me alone so I experimented a little🤭

Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!

You are not proud of the disappointment you feel knowing Celebrimbor has returned to his work. You should be glad that he has recovered enough to carry on with forging the Rings—using the designs with which you provided him, no less—and you are happy. Truly. It’s only that part of you wishes you still had the forge room to yourself and Lord Annatar.

You had not been alone with him since he had... aided you to finish the designs, and you are driving yourself mad with thoughts of what might happen when or if you shall find yourselves in an intimate setting again. Will he be poised as ever, as though you had never known each other most intimately? Or will there be recognition between you? Connection.

Repetition.

The thought sends a pleasant shiver racing down your spine, right as you reach the forge room. You stop to breathe. Even if Annatar is inside, he is there assisting Celebrimbor with his work, and that is your purpose as well. Nothing more.

Before you can push the doors open, just as your fingers nearly reach the wood, one slides ever so slightly ajar, as if moved by the wind. Except there is no wind, and the doors are too heavy to be simply blown open, and so quietly no less. But you cease to ask yourself how such a thing has happened the moment you catch a glimpse of the sight revealed by the small opening.

From your angle, you can see Celebrimbor at his worktable, Annatar sitting beside him. There would be nothing unusual about that, if they were not sitting so much closer than you have seen them do on previous occasions. If Annatar’s arm were not wrapped around Celebrimbor’s shoulders, as if to cradle him close. And if that may yet pass for an exceedingly warm gesture of friendship, there is no mistaking the rhythmic movement of Annatar’s other hand in the area of Celebrimbor’s lap beneath the table, or the nature of the smith’s tortured groans as he struggles through the finishing touches of a Ring.

You cover your mouth to prevent an audible gasp. So, you had been right to assume you were not the only one for whom Lord Annatar performs such unconventional acts of... creative encouragement. Your first, panicked thought is that you need to leave before they sense your presence, pretend as though you never witnessed such a thing. But your legs simply refuse to move. Your eyes will not, cannot turn away from the sight. You watch, heat blooming within your belly, as Annatar’s fingers pinch and fondle the tip of the smith’s pointed ear, and Celebrimbor shudders almost violently.

“Please,” he begs, barely above a whisper, “I can bear it no longer.”

“You are capable of much greater feats than you know, my friend,” Annatar encourages, ever so trusting. But Celebrimbor shakes his head in utter defeat. His hands cease their trembling work and lower the utensils on the table as he turns to Annatar with an anguished gaze.

“I beg you,” he all but whimpers, “grant me release.”

Annatar smiles, a tinge of disappointment in his eyes, and releases Celebrimbor altogether, standing from his seat. The smith cannot help but whine, looking down at what is sure to be a most helpless state of arousal, but makes no attempt to touch himself, either. He must have understood by now, as you did before, that he is not to act without Annatar’s permission.

A trembling breath escapes you. Your hand is on your stomach, having come to rest there you know not when, and you stifle the growing urge to reach lower, between your legs, if only to ease the light throb that has begun there with a quick press of your fingers.

You shake your head, squeeze your eyes shut, and turn away to press your back to the wall by the door. It’s Lord Celebrimbor, you remind yourself. Your mentor. Your friend. If anything, you should be mortified that you have witnessed him in such a state of arousal, or envious that he is receiving the same attentions as you did from Annatar. And, to some extent, you are, but... seeing Annatar’s hands upon him only reminds you how they felt upon you, and Celebrimbor’s pleas for release remind you of the torturous stretch you had endured with Annatar keeping still inside of you, of the ache of helplessly unfulfilled pleasure and the beauty that had come from it.

Celebrimbor must have gathered his will, same as you did back then, and resumed his work, because his moans reach your ears again. You will your legs to carry you away, but all they do is take you back where you can peer through the crack in the door once more. Annatar is now hunched over Celebrimbor, mouth on his neck and hand back to stroking him beneath the table, and when the smith wavers anew in his feeble attempts to work, the cry he gives out at the loss of stimulation sends a bolt of pleasure to your clit. You press your thighs together, in vain. You cannot touch yourself in the hallway, where anyone might see you.

Just as you think you have gathered the resolve to flee to your chambers, where you may indulge in the pleasure of your own fingers without risking your dignity, Annatar says your name. It happens in an instnat—a flick of his wrist, and the door slides all the way open, leaving you exposed to their sight.

Every cell in your body freezes.

“I am glad you have joined us,” Annatar greets politely, standing to his full height at Celebrimbor’s side.  “You need not linger at the door.”

Celebrimbor, on the other hand, goes into a wide-eyed panic that matches the one no doubt written on your own face. His jaw drops, trembling, and he fumbles beneath the table to make himself decent again before he shoots to his feet.

“I-I assure you,” he stammers, awfully flushed in the face, “this is not at all what you might imagine—”

“Do not fret, Celebrimbor,” Annatar intercedes, mildly amused. “She is quite familiar with my methods.”

A small gasp leaves you as you avert your eyes, heat flooding your skin. It is one thing to catch Lord Celebrimbor in the act, quite another to admit to your own. His eyes dart between you and Annatar as he blinks, stunned at the revelation.

“Come... come inside,” he urges you. “Shut the door.”

You do so in haste, but remain standing in the doorway. You cannot tell whether Celebrimbor is more angry or ashamed. Though he hardly has the right to judge your behaviour, given that he has engaged in similarly improper acts himself, if he were to banish one of you, it will not be the emissary of the Valar.

“Is it true?” he asks, thankfully seeming more curious than scandalized. You glance at Annatar, unsure, and he gives you a small, encouraging nod of his head. It serves as a balm to your nerves.

“Lord Annatar...” you begin, willing your voice to be steady as you look at Celebrimbor. “He helped me to finish the designs, my lord.”

Celebrimbor’s brows shoot up. His mouth opens, then closes. Then he scrambles to pick up the sketches by which he had been guided as he worked—your sketches—from the table, and holds them up to you.

“You made these, while...?”

“Indeed,” Annatar says, the sole word imbued with such pride and admiration, your knees weaken.

“But they are excellent! Flawless!” Celebrimbor protests, his tone raised in disbelief. “It cannot be that... Under such torment...?”

It is plain to see, from the distress in his eyes, that he truly does not understand how such a thing might be possible. This must be the first time Annatar has tried this with him, catching him as off guard as you had been, and he has yet to learn how to accept the gift as you did. A gift which is too precious, you realize, to be kept only to yourself, especially with the fate of all Middle-Earth at stake. Sympathy for Celebrimbor fills your heart, and you meet his questioning look with a slight nod. Once again, your gaze briefly meets Annatar’s, and something in his eyes along with your own inner realization gives you the boldness to go on and confess, “It helps, Lord Celebrimbor. If you allow it. And... it does not go unrewarded.”

Celebrimbor releases a stunned huff, and puts the paper back on the table with a small thud of his fingers against the wood.

“She is right,” Annatar speaks when Celebrimbor seems at a loss for words. “But then again...” His brow knits, and he ponders something. “No two creative minds are alike,” he muses. “And yours, Celebrimbor, I’m afraid is in a rather fragile state. Perhaps a less... direct approach would suit you better.”

Celebrimbor eyes him warily, but his interest is visibly piqued, your words having eased his reluctance to believe such a method might prove fruitful. Slowly, he returns to his seat.

“And... what might that be?” he asks, cautiously.

Annatar gives him a rather cryptic smile before he turns his gaze to yours, extending a hand towards you in invitation.

“Would you come here?” he beckons.

For a moment, you hesitate, glancing to Celebrimbor to find him as puzzled as you, then looking back at Annatar in silent question. He gives no answer, only waits patiently. Waits for your trust, as you have given it before.

And as before, you give it. Holding his gaze, you go to him, and place your hand in his. Your skin tingles pleasantly as he takes it in his gentle hold, reminding you how you had longed to feel his touch again. He pulls you close to him and wraps his other arm around your waist with elegance, almost as if preparing for a waltz. You are transfixed by his eyes as he speaks in that wise voice of his, close enough that his breath touches your lips.

“There are more ways to open one’s mind to their most natural instincts than touch itself,” he says. “Sometimes, one needs only to be reminded... shown... how fulfilling it is to cease denying oneself.”

The last words are spoken just as he presses his lips to yours, and you sigh into the gentle kiss. His mouth’s caresses are so languid, so patient as you follow their lead. He takes his sweet time tracing your lips with his tongue, then sliding it against your own, allowing them to intertwine and dance together at leisure, savouring each and every sensation. But that is not all he means to do, you realize as a sudden intake of breath reaches your ears, one which belongs to neither you nor Annatar. This sensuous display is meant for Celebrimbor—who is still sitting right at your side, though the haze of desire had all but erased that knowledge from your mind.

When Annatar removes his lips from yours with a softly wet sound, you cannot help but glance a bit self-consciously to the smith. His eyes are clouded with an emotion you have never seen in them in all your years working together—yearning of the purely carnal sort. Though he flushes at being caught eyeing you so, the look he sends Annatar holds a glint of ruefulness.

“You can hardly expect my eyes to not stray from my work,” he warns, “whilst you engage in such... titillating behaviour a mere glance away.”

“And yet,” Annatar says, looking at him but leaning into you, “I expect you to not only finish your work,” you give a soft gasp as he presses his lips to your neck, “but to craft your greatest creations yet.”

“I do not think—”

The protest dies in Celebrimbor’s throat as Annatar engulfs you in his arms and swiftly lifts you onto the table, close enough to Celebrimbor that you could reach out with your leg and rest a foot in his lap if you so wished. You make no move to do anything but remain right where Annatar jas placed you, your breath quickening as he reaches to your ankles and begins to draw the skirts of your dress slowly up, up, over your knees, until they are gathered gracelessly around your waist and all that covers your modesty is your undergarments.

You can’t help but squirm lightly, adjusting to the most unusual exposure. It’s already more than you had ever imagined Celebrimbor would see of you, and now Annatar is running the palm of his hands gently along your thighs, coaxing you to part them and reveal the damp fabric between your legs. His piercing gaze won’t let you look away. He holds such power over you, willingly given yet ruinous in its might.

And he is no less in control as he lowers himself to his knees before you, in the space between your legs. The realization of what he means to do, and in what circumstances, punches a small mewl from your chest. But perhaps you should know better than to think you can anticipate his actions by now. You must only take what you are given, and at the moment he gives you feather-light caresses of your legs, from your ankles to the sensitive skin at the back of your knees, whilst his lips begin a trail of kisses upon the inside of your thighs. A few on the left, a few on the right. Langourous, attentive, drawing ever upward.

If you were aching before, you now crave him with devastating force. You want to moan, but some deeply rooted instinct within you still tries to clip the sounds in your throat, sharply aware of your audience. Unbidden, your eyes drift to Celebrimbor. His are glued to the spot where Annatar’s lips meet the soft flesh of your thigh, his lips slightly parted in silent desire, and his fingers digging into his own thigh as he no doubt withholds from seeking his own relief. You shudder with a sudden burst of bashfulness... but also the thrill of it. Of behaving yourself in such a scandalous manner, leaving all thoughts of propriety aside and wearing your pleasure on display.

Lifting his head from your leg, barely a few inches from where you need him most, Annatar gives Celebrimbor an encouraging look. “Go on, then,” he instructs, much like he had done when coaxing you into resuming your drawing whilst impaled on his length. Celebrimbor’s throat bobs with what looks to be a painful swallow, but he does as he is asked and picks the object of his labour back up.

Satisfied, Annatar aims a wolfish smile at you, then works to free you of the only fabric covering your wetness. Once he has pulled it down your legs and tucked it safely within his own robes, leaving you quivering in anticipation as the cool air meets your soaked center, he parts your legs once more and looks up at you.

“Would you be so kind,” he says, caressing your thighs, “as to share with Lord Celebrimbor exactly what transpired between us upon our past encounter? From beginning to end. In as much detail as your sensibility allows.”

He says it with as much ease as he would request that you bring Lord Celebrimbor some tea. You’d scoff at the absurdity, at the word ‘sensibility’, if not for his thumb, which begins to massage your clit with small, slow circles as he awaits your compliance. You are helpless to do anything but whimper as you nod, and will yourself to speak through stifled sounds of pleasure as your swollen bud sings beneath his touch.

“Lord Annatar... he touched me,” you begin, egged on by his approving gaze. You can hardly make the story sound as coherent or vivid as it felt at the time, but you do your best to at least remember the sequence of events. “First, he massaged my shoulders. Then, he traced his fingers along my cheek and... my hair... and then he... touched the tip of my ear. Tugged at it with his fingers. I-I was surprised, but... I let him, because it felt... so good.”

The word melts into a moan, for Annatar has replaced his finger with his lips, pressing them gently to your clit before giving it a firm lick. All inhibitions set aside, you lay your hand on Annatar’s head and hook your fingers into the bow at the back of it, marvelling at the softness of his tresses. He raises his eyes to yours as he continues to kiss you between your legs, and by the Valar, he is the most divine sight you have ever laid eyes upon.

“What then?” Celebrimbor asks, nearly as breathless as you feel. When you glance at him, his eyes are painstakingly glued to his work, obeying Annatar’s command. The Lord of Gifts gives your thigh a soft pinch, silently instructing you to do the same.

“Then, he kissed my neck,” you go on, in between mewls and little gasps of pleasure as Annatar makes a meal of your most intimate flesh. “And touched my breasts. He kneaded them and... pinched my nipples through my dress.” Almost absent-mindedly, your own hand which isn’t in Annatar’s hair does the very same now, overwhelmed by the combined elation his mouth offers at present and the memory you are recounting out loud. “Then... his hand went lower and... touched my— between my legs.” You avoid the word, and immediately find it laughable. Annatar’s face is buried in your cunt right now, so close to Celebrimbor that he can no doubt hear the wet sounds of his tongue lapping at your folds—why on Middle-Earth would you shy away from something as harmless as a mere word now?

As if to further emphasize that point, Annatar’s kisses turn more vigorous, and he slips a long finger past your entrance, adding to the squelch. You gasp and tighten your grip on his hair, writhing on the table.

“Then, he stopped,” you go on, and your voice might as well be one continuous, obscene whine. “Told me to stand, and sat in my chair instead. And then... I sat in his lap... with my back to him... with him inside of me.” You mewl as he slips in a second finger, and begins to curl them into your sweetest spots with ravaging precision. “And it felt so good... and I wanted to move so badly... but he said I was to finish the designs first... and I trusted him... so I obeyed. When I had him in me... I could finally let go and just... create.”

He groans into your cunt, and you quake with the overwhelming sensations. It’s too much, how he sucks your clit into the heat of his mouth, how his fingers put relentless and heavenly pressure to the parts within you where it most wrecks you to feel it. Your already breathy voice grows in pitch, littered with desperate mewls as you pant and writhe your way to your peak.

“Once I finished, he lifted me from the chair... and into his arms... and he took me against a wall... hard and deep... until, finally... finally... My lord!”

You grip his hair mercilessly as you clench around his fingers, lost to an onslaught of pleasure that leaves you gasping and panting without shame. Annatar laps at your folds all the way through it, until your hips begin to twitch with too much sensation to bear.

“Until, finally,” Annatar continues, calm and composed as he rises to his feet, “she found her well-earned release.” He cups your cheek, admiring your pleasure-dazed expression with a blend of pride and hunger as you lean into his touch. “And looked as splendid as her creations whilst she clenched around my cock.”

He kisses you, and you moan as you taste yourself on his tongue. You feel so light and so wonderfully tired, all you want is to fall into his arms, rest your head upon his shoulder and close your eyes. So you do, breaking away from his lips to melt into his embrace, where he welcomes you with utmost tenderness.

“She does,” Celebrimbor agrees. You open your eyes to find his gaze has strayed toward you after all, and is filled with a soft kind of awe. “You do. Together.”

Annatar coaxes you to part from him with care, and a pleased smile graces his lips as he looks down at Celebrimbor’s hand.

“As does the fruit of your labours.”

You notice then, too—Celebrimbor now holds a finished, most exquisite Ring.

“I suppose I have begun to understand what you meant by... surrendering,” he admits, contemplating the precious jewel before he sets it carefully into one of the nine ring holders on the table. He knits his brow, somewhat nervous as he turns to Annatar. “Am I to finish all the rest before...?”

“That would be rather cruel, would it not?” Annatar says indulgently. “To craft none rings is more time-consuming than to draw them, after all. Stand, Celebrimbor.”

Hope sparks in the smith’s eyes as he obeys. Annatar rearranges your dress, allowing it to fall over your legs once more, and leaves a tender caress on your cheek before he turns to Celebrimbor.

You are not sure what you’re meant to do, but you don’t feel strong enough to stand yet either way. It’s almost as though you’re peering through the crack in the door again as, without further teasing, Annatar parts Celebrimbor’s robes and unfastens his trousers, releasing the hard and swollen flesh beneath to the air as well as your sight. It’s strange to think you and the Lord of Eregion have now officially seen each other’s private parts not only bared, but also evident with arousal. Celebrimbor is already weeping at the tip as Annatar wraps his elegant fingers around his cock and gives it a tug.

“Oh, my friend,” he coos, cupping Celebrimbor’s cheek. The smith whines softly, leaning into his touch. “How you must be aching.”

Celebrimbor nods, beyond words as Annatar begins to stroke his cock. The Lord of Gifts claims his mouth, and the smith clings to his shoulders desperately. You remember how it felt, to have gone so long without release and finally have the promise of it within reach. Arousal stirs anew within you, as though it had not been thunderously relieved barely a minute before.

At the same time, however, you are beginning to feel quite out of place as the kiss unfolding before your eyes grows deeper, more intense, Annatar’s tongue dominating Celebrimbor’s. His movements are still teasingly slow, despite the promise that he would finally relieve Celebrimbor’s suffering, and the more self-conscious part of your mind is beginning to wonder whether you are not hindering Annatar’s plans, somehow.

“Should I...?” you say, hesitating to interrupt. “Would you prefer if I left you to...?”

“No, please,” Celebrimbor blurts out, breaking the kiss and flushing as he meets your eyes. Remembering himself and to whom he must submit, he turns to Annatar, and somewhat bashfully asks, “Would it be all right if she stayed?”

Annatar nods, pleased by his deference. “If that is her wish.”

They both look to you then, awaiting your response—Celebrimbor with hope, Annatar with patience, and perhaps a tinge of expectation. You nod, a welcome one for all three of you. Now that you have become a part of this creative process, you wish to see it through to the end, whenever Annatar deems that may be.

“Good,” Annatar smiles. “There are eight more Rings to be crafted, after all.”

The implication thrills you to the core. Only the first of the Nine is finished, and it had mostly been completed by the time you had joined Annatar and Celebrimbor in the forge. How many more sensuous games will the emissary of the Valar invent until all the Rings are finished? In how many ways will he have you unravel, mind and body? The creamy sensation between your legs grows ever more persistent as you realize Annatar is unlikely to let it recede any time soon.

Under your gaze, Annatar returns his attentions to Celebrimbor’s neck, nipping and sucking at his skin in rhythm with his still-languid strokes. Celebrimbor says your name, practically moans it, and he wears a deep frown as he looks at you, half from pleasure and half from guilt.

“I do not wish for you to think that...” he falters when Annatar’s teeth find his ear, “in all our time together, I was harbouring improper thoughts towards you...”

“It’s quite all right, my lord,” you reassure him, watching as Annatar’s thumb gathers the bead of arousal blooming at his tip before you give him a fond smile. “There were many things I did not understand about myself and the act of creation, until Lord Annatar helped me to discover them. There is no shame in sharing in such knowledge. I do not think so,” you add, a bit more quietly. If one of the other smiths were to go against Celebrimbor’s wishes for some reason and come inside the forge now, surely they would scorn the three of you for engaging in such apparent depravity together. But you are equally sure that Annatar would help them understand the importance of your endeavours, just as he had you and Celebrimbor.

Annatar pulls away from Celebrimbor’s neck, caressing his cheek as he wears an adoring smile with which he then graces you as well as he speaks. “It brings me such joy,” he says, “to see the greatest of Elven smiths working in such harmony. Learning from one another.”

“We learned from you, my friend,” Celebrimbor is quick to return the praise. “We have you to thank for everything.”

“Let us say that we should thank one another,” Annatar insists. And as if in his own gratitude, he kneels before Celebrimbor, though he does so in that same manner he did with you before, without losing an ounce of the authority he commands. If anything, having his gaze meet yours from below has a way of making you feel as though you are standing on a precipice, dangerously close to toppling into the abyss, and he is all that keeps you upright still. Celebrimbor certainly seems to share that sentiment, his fingers brushing Annatar’s smooth cheek with deep reverence, as if he barely dares to touch such beauty.

Annatar begins with small kisses peppered to Celebrimbor’s cock, tongue darting out ever so teasingly to flick against the straining length and sensitive tip. The pleading sound that escapes the smith’s throat combined with the sight has you crossing your legs where you are still sitting on the table, to better press your thighs together.

“Oh, by the Valar,” Celebrimbor rasps out as his length is all at once engulfed in Annatar’s mouth, not a trace of discomfort on his face as the smith’s cock sinks deep into his throat.

“Lord Annatar,” you breathe out, unable to contain yourself any longer, “may I touch myself?”

You expect—hope—to be given a hum of approval, the rumble of which in Annatar’s throat will surely prevent Celebrimbor from begrudging you this small interruption. But Annatar releases the smith’s cock abruptly, pulling a strained groan from him.

“You shall take your pleasure when I see fit,” he replies before returning to his task. His voice is soft, yet the command in it is clear. It only serves to highten your arousal. And really, you should not interfere with Celebrimbor’s long-awaited pleasure again, but you fear the wooden table might begin to splinter within your white-knuckled grip unless you do something.

“May I touch you, then?” you entreat.

This time, when Annatar frees his mouth, a mischievous smile is tugging at its corners. “So long as you do not interfere with my task,” he says, looking up at the trembling smith before him. “Our dear Celebrimbor might be quite upset if you do.”

Celebrimbor caresses Annatar’s hair, giving a slight shake of his head. “I shall gladly take whatever I am given.”

You, on the other hand, waste no time to take that which you have asked for and were generously granted. You leave your seat to go and kneel behind Annatar, humming with delight as your fingers caress the soft strands of his beautiful, long hair. You brush it to the side to reveal his neck, and begin to leave your own kisses there, laving the skin between his jaw and shoulder with affection as he bobs his head while sucking Celebrimbor.

How ironic that he should warn you about interfering with his task, for a change. But even now, you seem to be the one in more difficulty as you reach around his waist, seeking to gain access to the part of him you have been missing inside you for every second since your last joining had ended. It’s an awkward position, with him kneeling and you trying to work through the layers of his clothing from behind, and however you try, you cannot seem to figure out how to even part his robe enough to reach the fastening of the trousers beneath.

He groans impatiently, and you soon find out why—when, in a few swift movements and shuffles of fabric, he frees himself from their confines and takes your hand to wrap it around his cock. He is hard and eager, practically pulsing with need within your grip, and you are reminded that to offer you these gifts requires his own sacrifice, his own desire going unfulfilled.

His hands return to Celebrimbor whilst yours remains on his cock, and you marvel at the heat and firmness of him in your grip as you begin to stroke it. He is leaking generously at the tip, and you smear the wetness along his length as you hasten your pace, and you moan as though the ridges of him are catching on your inner walls instead of the palm of your hand as your cunt aches helplessly.

But you focus solely on him. Your lips travel up the curve of his neck, trying to adjust to the movements of his head as you lick a stripe up his ear, and catch the pointed tip between your teeth as you had been longing to for so long. He groans, a low, hoarse sound that must scrape against Celebrimbor’s cock oh so wonderfully. Or torturously, if the smith’s broken whimper is any indication. With Annatar, it tends to be a blend of both.

It isn’t a coincidence, you think, but rather Annatar’s perfectly controlled timing, when they both find their end at once. It’s plain to see, from the way Celebrimbor bucks forward with a sob of relief, that he is spilling inside Annatar’s mouth, who keeps it firmly closed around him, receiving every drop—whilst Annatar’s own hips give a tense jerk and he throbs in your hand, some of his spend landing on Celebrimbor’s pant leg and some dribbling down your fingers.

It’s nearly enough to have you coming yourself. Alas, you clench around the emptiness within you, gently stroking Annatar until he pulls away from both of you. Releasing Celebrimbor’s spent cock and removing your hand from his own length, he rises from the ground, poised as ever, leaving the smith stumbling back into his seat and you panting on your knees. It isn’t long, though, before Annatar’s hand is held out within the line of your sight, and you raise your eyes to find him looking down at you like a blessing sent to be your salvation—which he, in fact, is.

“Come, now,” he urges tenderly. “The floor is hardly the place for an Elf of your talents. And generosity.”

Touched by his compliments as always, you place your hand in his and let him pull you to your unsteady feet. Though he praises your generosity, the result of it hardly shows—his cock still appears to be as furiously rigid as ever, and you frown slightly as it catches your gaze.

“Have I not satisfied you well enough, my lord?” you ask, barely a whisper. He lifts your chin, having your gaze meet his.

“You have satisfied me wonderfully,” he reassures you. “However, I shall not be truly finished until I will it so. And we still have long hours of toil ahead of us. Do we not, Celebrimbor?”

The smith gives a small chuckle. He had tucked himself away, and is now leaning on the table, resting his chin on his fist as he looks at you and Annatar with a hazy gaze.

“I am afraid I do not possess your prowess, my godly friend. It shall be a little while before I am able to endure such wonderful torment again.”

“How fortunate, then,” Annatar says, “that our dear friend is willing to share in your burden.”

You think you would share in any burden he might ask you to, so long as he kisses you all through it the same as he does now. His tongue plunges past your lips, and your eyebrows raise slightly as you realize both that the musky taste you feel is Celebrimbor’s spend, and that he must have felt your taste as well when Annatar had kissed him after feasting on you.

You are tempted to reach for Annatar’s length again as you feel its inviting weight on your belly, but then his arms surround you and you are being swept in his embrace effortlessly. You wrap yourself around him as he carries you back to the chair right beside Celebrimbor’s, sitting down with you astride him. He makes quick work of lifting your dress to expose you to him once more. Nothing would have made you happier. The moment you are able to, you cant your hips so that your moist folds caress his cock, moaning softly as your clit catches on the tip of him.

Annatar murmurs your name, gaze trained on your mouth as he traces your slightly parted lips with his thumb, “So needy,” he muses. “You neglected to mention, when you told our little story, how you came undone with barely a few grazes of my fingers, right before I took you fully.” He leans into your ear, “Should we see if we can achieve that once more?”

He grips your hips, preventing you from seeking friction much like he did the last time you had been seated in his lap. But at least then, you were achingly full instead of empty.

“Please,” you whimper, pulling away so he may see the plea within your eyes as well. “I’ve missed you inside me. So much.”

Annatar regards you tenderly, as though genuinely touched by your sentiment.

“Very well, then,” he says, running his knuckles down your cheek. “When I next bring you to the height of your pleasure, it shall be whilst we are most intimately joined.”

Your eyelids flutter shut in relief, and you turn your head to press a kiss to the palm of his hand.

“Whether that is to be now, however…”

You open your eyes to find a now familiar glint of mischief in his.

“Celebrimbor.” He turns his gaze to the smith, who seems quite surprised to be addressed in the midst of your exchange. “If you were to choose,” Annatar begins, voice honeyed with promise, “would you like me to keep you full while you work... or to hear me fill her?”

Your heart all but stills in your chest. It was one thing to put yourself at Annatar’s mercy, but for him to have Cemebrimbor decide your fate is a turn you had not expected. Perhaps it is only the illusion of control which he offers, a choice he asks Celebrimbor to make only for him to do the opposite instead. Either way, it’s a new flavour of the same addictive torment you have known at his hands, and your heartbeat practically echoes between your legs as you await Celebrimbor’s answer.

For his part, the smith seems at an utter loss. He meets Annatar’s expectant gaze, then your pleading one. “Both,” he confesses in the end. “Only... might you see to her first? I am quite sated for the moment, and she…” His eyes drop to your glistening folds. “Oh my dearest, look how wet you are.”

He forgets himself for a moment, resting his hand on your thigh. It’s nice and warm upon your already heated skin, but tenses when Celebrimbor notices Annatar eyeing it with a slightly raised eyebrow. Realizing he had failed to ask for permission, the smith bows his head in apology and begins to retreat.

Annatar, however, lays a hand upon his, keeping it pressed to your skin. He must have deemed, in the end, that the touch was tentative enough to count as a plea for more rather than a claim to it. He meets your gaze with a searching look and, finding nothing but the heat of anticipation there, he slides Celebrimbor’s hand further up your thigh, guiding it to the aching flesh between your legs.

A breath escapes Celebrimbor as he feels you intimately. Annatar ensures the tips of the smith’s fingers find your bundle of nerves, and guides them into circling it with torturous slowness before leaving him to carry on with the touch on his own. Your eyes fall shut, relishing the stimulation even as it worsens the emptiness you feel within.

“Wet indeed, is she not?” Annatar murmurs. Celebrimbor nods, unable to look away from the sight of your flesh beneath his fingers. You’ve never had two pairs of eyes trained on your exposed sex, drinking it in at the same time, and the rush brought by that fact alone pulls a whimper from you. Celebrimbor’s pace increases slightly as your hips chase his touch, but Annatar puts a tempering hand to his. “Not too much,” he instructs. “Not yet.”

Looking down, the sight you find is most frustrating. Annatar’s cock is so close, lying rigid and eager right before your core, yet your cunt weeps helplessly under much too tame a touch. You feel like you might cry if you don’t get to come soon, but you remind yourself to breathe and leave yourself to Annatar’s care, knowing his ways will leave you more fulfilled in the end than what you think you need in the heat of passion.

To your partial relief, Annatar takes himself in hand, teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, below Celebrimbor’s fingers. He leans closer, as though he means to kiss your cheek, but before his lips touch your skin, he gives Celebrimbor a meaningful look, tapping a suggestive finger to the side of your neck closest to him. Here.

Celebrimbor’s eyes brighten with understanding and eagerness. They both lean in, and then there are two sets of lips, two tongues, wet and warm and soft on the sensitive skin between your neck and both shoulders at once. All whilst Celebrimbor caresses your clit, and Annatar soaks his cockhead through your folds, and you moan as you tremble under their combined attentions.

Then, all at once and at long last, Annatar tightens his hold around your waist, and pulls you onto him. You gasp and mewl, your hand flying to grip Celebrimbor’s sleeve as you are finally filled to the brim. Celebrimbor pulls away from your neck to look down, a shuddering breath escaping him at the sight of Annatar’s flesh engulfed by yours. His fingers falter on your clit.

“Tell me,” Annatar murmurs in your ear, “is our friend still ‘quite sated’?”

You lock eyes with Celebrimbor, then lower them to his crotch. He opens his legs slightly as you reach out to return his intimate touch, and groans as you feel the renewed hardness between them.

“He is hard, my lord,” you reply, breathless, as Annatar retreats from you enough to watch you fondle Celebrimbor through his clothes for himself. You would like to relieve him, and you wish to begin riding the cock within you more than anything, but you know better than to do either before Annatar has allowed it. Your brow knits in apology as you remove your hand from Celebrimbor. He catches it in his, though he doesn’t return it to where he aches most.

“Please,” he breathes out, gaze shifting between you and Annatar. “Would you...? Could she...? If only for a while?”

Annatar smiles, wickedly. “We’ll see later if she feels inclined to return your generosity. For now, Celebrimbor,” he gently removes the smith’s hand from where it was still working slowly between your legs, “I believe the skills of your fingers are needed elsewhere.”

Celebrimbor deflates somewhat, releasing your hand. But he is no longer a stranger to this game, nor does he question Annatar’s judgment. “Yes,” he agrees, shifting in his chair to face the table. “Yes, of course.”

“Excellent,” Annatar praises, his voice coated in the sweetest honey. “As for you…” He takes hold of your chin, turning your head so you meet his gaze. “You may take your pleasure. Once. Then, you shall lend your talents to the making of the Rings, along with our friend. Under my instruction,” he adds with the kind of gentle firmness only he can manage. You nod at once.

“Yes, Lord Annatar,” you promise breathlessly, already beginning to fuck yourself onto him. “Oh, thank you.”

He takes on a most humble expression, though you are too busy seeking the right angle at which to ride his cock to notice his carefully crafted façade. “The pleasure is entirely mine.”

It truly is—for your pleasure, as well as Celebrimbor’s, belongs to him. The smith performs his craft with a faint smile as he listens to your pretty moans, his mind no longer muddled by the toils of the past weeks, both of you trusting blindly in your beloved emissary. And your sweet surrender to his will shall bleed into the Rings through the fingertips with which you bring them into being, and bind them to their Lord all the more closely.

He claims your mouth, your moans melting on his tongue as his cock throbs in pleasure with each eager roll of your hips—and creation has never tested sweeter, indeed.

[hanamukes]

Uika and her inner monster, Doloris

Admittedly when I first watched It's MyGO and Ave Mujica 0th, I didn't really think much of Uika. She and Doloris are presented as such vastly different entities that my brain kind of glossed over her, because I don't tend to go crazy for characters who are presented to us as always being bright and warm. Even when the last episode aired and I saw her undergo the transformation from Uika into Doloris, it still hadn't fully set in for me (though perhaps this is simply because I was busy losing my mind in excitement about seeing Ave Mujica at all as well as the sequel announcement).

But reading the interviews that came out after the anime finished airing completely changed that. Uika is Tomori's opposite in every regard? She has a secret so intense it made her voice actress stand out of her chair and yell when she heard it? I need to know more! What on earth could this seemingly kind character be hiding?

I've been keeping a close eye on her content ever since, and it's slowly making me feel insane. So, in anticipation for the anime, as well as their 4th concert which will happen in December and thus give us even more Doloris lore, I wanted to compile a post on the both of them in which I will present my various thoughts and theories.

Doloris

Uika is, in the most literal sense, Doloris' actress. This could perhaps lend to many believing that Uika is not Doloris, or rather that Doloris is not Uika. At the same time, I want to pose a very simple question.

Who came first: Doloris or Uika?

Timeline-wise, Doloris came first. Can Uika even exist without Doloris? Can she be who she is without us immediately recognizing her as being Doloris? What came first was not "Doloris is a puppet persona Uika plays as on stage," but rather it was "Uika is Doloris from Ave Mujica." This was their intent; to introduce Doloris to us, and then to introduce this girl who has an identical design to her in the anime, who is seemingly her exact opposite. What weight could Uika's scenes hold, if not to tell us that she will later turn into the monster known as Doloris? On her own, without Doloris, what does Uika represent?

Doloris herself talks about wanting to be seen for her true self. Is Uika Doloris' true self, or is Doloris Uika's true self? Which is it that they want us to believe? Which one does "Uika" want us to believe? Which one is Sakiko, or perhaps Oblivionis, trying to convince us to believe? Who is "Uika"?

Our introduction to this character was not a Sumimi scene, or her consoling someone, or a frame of her smiling, or of her expressing her love for music. It was this.

This creepy, disturbing montage of Doloris, covered in blood, inviting someone into her cult. Inviting you into her cult. Inviting you to dig deeper.

Though if you want to go even further back, I would argue our first, true genuine introduction was Black Birthday itself.

You see, I don't believe there's any true and correct way to interpret Ave Mujica's songs. The songs are whatever you make of them. That's part of the insanity of Ave Mujica; of never having a proper answer, of always wanting to dig deeper. So I won't say this is that correct reading, but rather one of the infinite possibilities. That said, after watching the intermissions from their concerts as we currently know them, I can't help but feel their first 6 songs perfectly tell the story of Doloris. It goes something like this:

Black Birthday: Doloris' rebirth into her true self. The dyeing of one's purity into corruption. Finally being able to see what was once unseeable (perhaps the light in the pitch black darkness, which she discusses a lot in their stage plays). It's a disturbing birthday party welcoming the new her.

The Two Moons ~Deep Into the Forest~: Now reborn, she finds herself lost in a forest. The play sequence in the last episode of It's MyGO feels reminiscent to this song; Doloris straying into a forest (Loft Moon), while Oblivionis ridicules her, and yet she's so beautiful she cannot take her eyes off her despite the pain of having her heart torn asunder. The song even has imagery describing candles lit on a table, which we can see in the anime rendition of this scene.

Choir 'S' Choir: She's slowly giving in to the insanity of Ave Mujica. This song reminds me a lot of Perdere Omnia; when she finally stops her denial and begins to understand why the others wish to destroy the world. She's letting herself become an esquire, a fallen angel if you will. She hears voices screaming at her, and she knows she's being hunted down, but she keeps dancing anyway. She's testing out her new abilities.

God, You're a Fool: This song represents her inner doubts. What exactly are they fighting for? For whose sake? Why do they have to be in this situation to begin with? If God wasn't a fool, surely everything would be fine... right?

Mas?uerade Rhapsody Re?uest: She's decided she no longer cares about anything. No longer cares how corrupted she becomes, no longer cares to hide her dark feelings. She's just going to fully embrace it all, she's going to let herself be taken by the shadowy jesters. The mask is a part of her now.

Ave Mujica: With her mask as her skin, it's her turn to lure others in. She's going to corrupt you. She reassures you that those with masks will fulfill your any wish, and that even though this is a place of no return, don't worry, there's nothing to be scared of.

It's interesting, because while the songs can apply to anyone (the other dolls for one, and perhaps even the listeners themselves), I can't ignore the parallels between the story these songs are telling, and the story of Doloris as we've seen in the concert intermissions. (Regarding the Utopia single and the ELEMENTS series, those songs were written more to fit a specific narrative, and I don't think they apply to the dolls themselves as directly. That's just my own personal take on them though and is why I won't be analyzing them here)

As for the intermissions themselves, there's a lot going on in them and much of Doloris' dialogue isn't about herself, but I want to go over some general observations:

Doloris uses 僕 (boku). This is significant because she's the only one who has a personal pronoun that differs from her actress; Uika uses 私(watashi). Ave Mujica songs use 私 (watashi) as well, though I don't think this means much in the context of Uika or Doloris because it's just for formality (if anything, it's interesting because it's an inverse of Uika's narrative opposite, Tomori; who uses 私 (watashi) in her daily speech but 僕 (boku) in her songs). That said, in Quaerere Lumina, there's a segment where "Doloris" switches to 私 (watashi), which many found haunting because it almost felt as if those words came from Uika herself, and that she switched back to Doloris after speaking vulnerable words from her heart.

She uses 君 (kimi; "you") in an interesting way. In Perdere Omnia, this referred to Oblivionis. In Veritas, however, she uses this repeatedly in the context of "someone" who she wants to be reborn with. It's someone who extended a hand to her, and who took her mask off her. It's someone she wants to be with for the rest of her life, just the two of them. And at the end, she uses it in reference to you, the audience, who will surely attend their next concert. Who is it that removed her mask? Oblivionis, or us? (Like many things in Ave Mujica, my own interpretation on this is that it's probably Oblivionis, because at its core, this is a yuri band, and Oblivionis is in fact someone who we've seen accept Doloris for who she is)

Each doll has a specific thing they focus on: Oblivionis stands her ground despite everything but also talks about finding things pitiful, Timoris is logical and an observer who wants to be acknowledged, Amoris talks about her lost love and boredom, Mortis talks about peace and quiet as well as the beauty in death. For Doloris, the thing she highlights that the others don't is us watching her slowly spiral into insanity, and particularly as of Veritas, her sense of her own body (as well as this attachment to someone else, as mentioned above). She sees herself as an empty shell, which is true for the others as well, but on top of this she has a fixation on her mask and the relationship it has with her body. It's her skin, and simultaneously, if you remove it, below that you'll find her true, perhaps ugly self. It means a lot to her that someone could love the her that exists without the mask. (Is this intended to be foreshadowing for the relationship between Doloris and Uika, and which of the two of them is her truest self?)

Doloris is an embodiment of insecurity, and simultaneously, she's a ferocious monster when she performs. Rico Sasaki herself claims that she feels like Doloris possesses her when they hold concerts. Her voice is cold, bitter and pained; it's a far cry from Uika's speaking voice, which is so warm and comforting. She is plagued with sorrow, of which she would rather die and be reborn than have to deal with. Her ideal world is simply one of being together with the one who accepts her in all of her ugliness.

Uika

There's a sort of trend to Uika's scenes: when she's around someone else, she waits for them to talk or express emotion before she matches their energy, and when she's alone, she drops the happy idol facade. The very first time we ever see her, she's doing just this.

This is also apparent in two other (coincidentally Sumimi) scenes, where the same thing happens in each: Uika is matching the energy of who she's talking to, but the second she's separated from them by a door, she has an almost empty expression on her face.

(The fact this has happened for both Sumimi scenes, when Uika has so little screentime so every second we see of her is supposed to be precious, has me really wondering just how much she likes her "dream job." Also, I wonder if this is a coincidence: immediately after both of these shots, she looks at her phone and sees Sakiko on her screen which cheers her up (the first is an old text, the second is a phone call))

It's something that on its own feels a bit deliberate, but when you take a certain intermission from their concerts into consideration, it really does become something you can't ignore.

This is the one part of the concert intermissions in which Doloris uses 私 (watashi). This is what many interpret to be Uika's words.

To put this simply, she feels as if she's an empty shell who has to match the energy of the people around her. When nobody is there to give her something to react to, she reverts to that husk. This is exactly the vibe I get from a lot of her scenes in the anime.

(I talked in depth about these two scenes in my Taki&Uika writeup so please do check that out for my thoughts on them, but to recap for this context: it's interesting to me how she looks so "empty" until she reads Sakiko's message (and feels seen by her, thus breaking her out of that state; I also want to mention she never messaged Sakiko first despite having her phone number, which to me is such an explicit example of her feeling like she doesn't exist unless someone else contacts her first that you may as well have a bright red arrow pointing at it), and on the right we can see her matching Sakiko's energy)

And actually, she almost implies as much to Mana directly.

"It's easy for me to sing when I'm with you, Mana-chan." On the surface, this just seems like something she's saying to make her excitable partner happy, to show agreement even though she's exhausted and not nearly as excited as she is. Mana reacts, calling it a compliment. But is it really? Her wording here is deliberate: she can only sing well because she's with her. Because she's being seen by someone else. Watching all of their scenes, I can't shake the feeling that Uika would not "shine" as an idol without Mana by her side. Immediately before this, Mana's happily waving and thanking the filming crew while Uika gives them a more heartless nod. Uika's appeal as an idol is that she's "cool" (this is written on her character bio), so it's not that I would expect her to match Mana's energy in that sense (who's appeal is her energy)... but I do wonder what she would be like in this context without Mana, given she already seems rather tense even with her. (Here's an easily missable clip of her sighing the second she's alone)

What about her comforting Tomori? Surely that was the one scene where she was acting of her own emotions? And what about when she talked to her in the final episode? It's not as if she was matching Tomori's energy 1:1! She reached out to her on her own!

And maybe that's true. However, consider this: that happened after she got Sakiko back in her life. Is an empty husk still just a shell if the one who's there to look at her―and bring her to life―is by her side now?

Let's take a closer look at these scenes though, shall we?

The planetarium. Uika was there to look at the stars, which are reflective of her childhood memories with Sakiko. Then, she finds Tomori, who she recognizes as being from Crychic (because she attended their concert a year ago). I could believe it if she sat next to her because Tomori looked upset; Tomori has subtle facial expressions yes, but it's pretty obvious when she's hurt. She decides to sit next to her, but her seat won't recline (I've seen people point out that she's been there before, so she surely would have known how to put the seat down; I think this is very funny and could be true, though I do want to point out Tomori said "this seat works like this" and Uika was sitting in a different seat than we saw in episode 8 anyway). Tomori helps her and they make indescribable eye contact briefly before they go back to watching the stars.

Then she kept an eye on her when they left and caught her on the stairs. Pretty standard stuff. From the get-go though, she was matching Tomori's energy. This is really subtle and more obvious in motion, but when she's asking if Tomori's okay, Tomori's head dips down twice, and each time Tomori's head dips, Uika's dips down a second or two later to match her.

If it was just once, I wouldn't think anything of it, but twice? Why is she studying her reaction this closely to the point of replicating it?

Then this happens, and I'll just leave my commentary from a year ago because it still applies:

Uika stares at Tomori and the Crychic photo that she saw on their social media comes to mind. She focuses in on Sakiko and Tomori... but moreso Sakiko. This kind of goes under the radar as it comes across as her bringing up stars because she knows it's something Tomori clearly likes and thus could be a bridge of conversation between them, so to speak, but I can't shake the fact that thinking about Sakiko was what prompted her to start talking about the stars she can see in Tokyo. Sakiko, who she was separated from for so long and who she was only able to reunite with in Tokyo.

(As a side note before I continue, this conversation makes me wonder how familiar she is with Tokyo. I'm not well-versed in Japan's geography nor do we really know anything about Uika's personal life, but I do know she lived on an island as a kid because she says Sakiko visited her island. It's also her chat icon)

Another easily missable detail, but when she picks up Tomori's notes, she waits a second for Tomori to give "consent" (via eye contact) before she continues talking. I'll also just mention here that I do think Uika meant what she said about singing being something that conveys someone's heart, and I feel like this was the most honest she was in the entire show.

Moving on to the episode 13 confrontation. I'll be honest, this whole interaction is very weird and as I'm typing up this post I'm still not sure what to make of a lot of it.

Once again, Uika is in the planetarium, this time in the same seat she was in for episode 8 before she met up with Sakiko (starting to see a theme here). Then she spots Tomori and grabs her shoulder, calling her Tomori-chan. Tomori seems confused so she checks that it really is "Tomori" and says they met there before. She does the same thing she did in episode 10 where when Tomori shifts her head, she shifts hers too while she's talking to her.

I like this shot because it feels like she instantly goes into "handsome" mode when she realizes this girl is a fan of "Sumimi's Uika."

This is where this interaction gets weird, because Tomori says she doesn't know who Uika is, and Uika responds with... "I'm glad she doesn't." Huh? Even Anon herself says "Huh?" out loud here. I could not possibly give you an explanation for why Uika would be "glad" that Tomori doesn't know who she is. Why is she trying to get close with her if she doesn't care that Tomori doesn't know her?

Then she asks if Tomori's song worked and Tomori says yes. It still feels like she's trying to gauge her feelings (but for what?). Then she claims she doesn't know Tomori, they just "met at the planetarium before." Anon seems pretty weirded out still. Then she changes the subject and asks if the two of them are in a band. When Anon shows her her phone, which has all the band members listed, she stares at it for a second before asking if she can follow.

(Anon's face being cut off here is interesting to me given this is from Uika's point of view, and really what could be so interesting in that photo?)

The length in which she stares at it makes me think this is likely how she learned MyGO exists, though I can't really piece together what she gets out of this aside from knowing what band Tomori is in. Then she asks if she can follow them and leaves. The whole interaction feels so pointless yet so deliberate: we didn't get closure on Taki's character arc in this episode, but we got this scene of Uika following MyGO's social media account? I'll be interested in seeing how this is relevant later on.

Oh, and the most important part of this scene: Tomori never told Uika her name. Anon is visibly weirded out by this. Of course, this scene is also followed by another shot of Uika not having to match anyone's energy, looking stern as she seems to whenever she's by herself. (She's looking at Crychic's social media page and commenting on how Tomori is from Sakiko's old band, by the way; how did she pull that up so fast? She just sat down?)

Uika and Tomori are narrative opposites. The director for the anime stated that Uika is her polar opposite in every regard. Ricochi also pointed out that while Tomori's songs turn her human, Uika's turn her into a monster. Their episode 10 confrontation was intended to be them meeting before the Ave Mujica ball gets rolling, so to speak, in order to allow them to contrast greater when the sequel comes out.

In general, what I make of Uika's cheerfulness is it's reflective of something Ricochi said in regards to Ave Mujica as a whole: like the moon, she can't shine on her own, but when others look at her, a light glistens from her. It almost makes me wonder if she wanted to become an idol in order to, like she said in her introduction clip with Mana, "make others feel better too" with her songs, at an attempt to mask the fact she can't shine when she's alone herself.

Those are the biggest points I wanted to articulate, so below I'll drop some other observations.

Regarding the flashback scene of Uika and Sakiko as kids... Uika is blushing here when Sakiko is not.

Normally I wouldn't think anything of this, because that's just how the models are (for instance, Sakiko's casual clothes model seems to always have the blush regardless of her mood, while Oblivionis of course doesn't; Uika's model also doesn't have a constant blush), but this scene was hand drawn. It's more deliberate. I don't want to insinuate that this implies Uika cares more about Sakiko than Sakiko cares about Uika because I don't think that's what they meant here at all, just that these specific memories may hold different meaning to Uika than they do for Sakiko. Perhaps more importantly though (and even less obvious) is that Uika's hair looks longer in the shot of them looking at the stars than it was for their meeting and the bug catching. It makes you wonder how much time may have passed between those two memories. (I do recognize this may have just been a continuity error of sorts, but she is wearing a different outfit too)

In Sakiko's conversation to Nyamu, she hints that she got Uika for her band because of Sumimi's popularity. This is interesting to me because in episode 7, she absolutely... glares? at the Sumimi music video.

...Which makes you wonder how she really felt looking at it. In any case, I don't think it was just for the fame because you don't exactly call somebody and tell them to help you forget everything if it's just for the money. That's a pretty intimate thing to ask somebody, and especially for Sakiko who up until then had been actively avoiding speaking anything from her heart. We also know that Uika does the lyrics for Ave Mujica, so we can truly only make guesses as to what transpired between their talk and the final episode...

Oh, also, when Sakiko calls Uika, she blushes. Which feels pretty notable to me when seconds beforehand she was in "cool, kind of broody idol" mode.

As for the last episode...

When Nyamu asks if she can go to Uika's place, she says yes! It makes you wonder how close she is with everyone by this point, and also what her home life looks like.

This one is sold on the voice work, but she sounds super happy to get to see Sakiko.

This also happens at the end of the episode, when she asks if she can ride the train home with Sakiko despite the fact she got there in a cab. I wrote my thoughts about this here, but it is interesting to me how it implies she might not know about Sakiko's home life at this point.

For this line, it's not lost on me how similar this dialogue is in reflection to what Doloris says in their stage play immediately after; with Oblivionis talking about them being dolls, and Doloris questioning her every word. It's as if she'd turned into Doloris the second she put her mask on...

Tying it all together

What's striking to me is that in all the trailers for the Ave Mujica anime―which by all means will be where we learn more about Uika―we've only seen one shot of her.

The rest have been Doloris. From this we can presume that the doll lore from their concerts will be relevant to the actresses, we just don't know to what extent.

It's scary really, because... seriously, even if Uika does feel like an empty shell, there's more to it than just that. And despite all of my analysis up until this point, I have not a single clue what her actual deal could be. Even after I post this, I'll continue to watch her scenes over and over, trying to piece things together with what little we have right now.

I'll be very interested to see both Doloris and Uika in the upcoming anime, and in what ways the lines between them are blurred.

[villainanders]

So is Veilgaurd like… a good game? Where would you rank it so far? I’ve heard so many mixed things.

I don’t think I’ll have a firm opinion until I finish it but so far: I’m really enjoying it! Having a great time with the minute to minute gameplay. It’s my favorite combat system so far (but I prefer action combat so YMMV). The cringe allegations are real but no more so than any other DA game and I think people who think this game is cringier forget how goofy the other games are. Yes, Origins too. I would say it has a similar silly to serious ratio as most of the others

So far it definitely ranks above Inqusition (which I do like) for me, otherwise it’s a little more complicated. There’s definitely some DA2like elements (companion focus, city level design, more actiony combat) which are great to see really fleshed out but I do feel like some specific worldbuilding elements are weaker than the first two games so far (maybe even inq too actually tho not as much). It seems way less interested in exploring how societies work and different groups interact with each other in complicated ways if that makes sense? Which is really key to Dragon Age to me and it’s a shame to me that as we go higher and higher with the stakes we really start to lose that. So it’s kind of hard for me to rank it with DA2 at this point at least bc I just think one is picking up where the other one is falling short. DAO always has to rank top for me for being what made me fall in love with video games and the depth of roleplaying, even if it’s janky and I’m coming to accept that I’m just not that into most CRPG combat

So basically if you only like Origins and not the other sequels/are only really interested in CRPGs, then I wouldn’t recommend. If you like either of the two sequels and enjoy actiony games/don’t mind lighter RP elements, then I would recommend, I’m having a lot of fun!

[blazingrain]

In Sundials and Stars: On Siffrin

While there are a few theories out there on Siffrin's origin, I think there's two that have an especially good amount of merit: the Islander theory and the Starchild theory. The Islander Theory posits that Siffrin is from the Island North of Vaugarde, which has vanished from people's memory and seemingly from existence. As an educated guess, this makes sense. Siffrin states in their friendquest that they don't have a home to go back to - matter of fact, they can't tell you anything about their home. Since we have very little information on this Island it's hard to determine anything concrete in terms of signifiers - you can argue that Siffrin's forgetfulness is connected to this origin though! We have a very small sample size to work with, but it does make an interesting amount of sense thematically: one's relationship to their home and culture is central, and what better 'contrast' to these themes than someone who cannot have a relationship with their home? It's what makes his conversation with Mirabelle all the more touching: continuing to travel because there is no better home than each other? Incredible. Sequel-pilled. Everything. The Starchild Theory, meanwhile, suggests that Siffrin is a star, or at least from space. Siffrin's religion seems to be inspired by either astrology or just star worship in general, given his usage of 'stars' as a swear. We have a precedent for ethereal beings existing because of the Change God, and the points that line up for the Islander theory also line up for the Starchild theory. A falling star likely wouldn't remember home, couldn't go back, and would look up towards what they've lost, swearing. It's more a poetic than a factual theory, but has roughly the same points supporting it and comes from a beautiful thought if you ask me. Siffrin being Vaugardian has also been brought up, since Siffrin's etymology traces back to French, but I think the name-conversation disproves it? Hinting that Siffrin isn't their first name, or at least saying they 'picked' it, feels to me like they picked it because they forgot their original name. Could also mean they Changed, of course, but I don't really think that fits the rest of their character.

[libraryleopard]

High school sophomore Caroline finds an unexpected connection with a rebellious lesbian and must navigate the spark growing between the two of them

Queen (sapphic, gender-questioning, maybe ace-spec?), Korean American main character; Korean-Filipino nonbinary lesbian love interest; nonbinary Afro-Chinese side character

[xbomboi]

Growing Pains

as raven finally gets to be free from her shackles, apple silently chooses to shoulder all the pain that comes their way and bear the burdens of dealing with the horrors of the world so that raven can be happy. because raven has suffered so much and apple decides it’s only fair that she do all she can to prevent raven from any further suffering. it’s her way of atoning for all the hurt she caused raven, because apple knows raven has been and always will be a better person than her. to apple, if either of them deserves to smile, it’s raven.

[doloneia]

as an academic i believe every lost greek epic is a tragic loss of valuable material that could have provided modern scholars an immense amount of insight into homeric tradition. however as an odysseus enjoyer, i think the telegony was kinda cringe and ooc

[ganondoodle]

wait does the thing that some people think totk (or the stuff in the past) takes place before all other zelda games really just come from rauru and sonia founding hyrule??

hyrules been newly founded and switched places multiple times tho, plus this is an entirely new ""timeline"" anyway

botw + totk are their own thing with lots of references to other games bc funney referenceeee really, i doubt there was supposed to be any kind of deeper connection

(lets ignore the fact that they made botw to be a sort of soft reset and connect it all back together and then made its sequel do time fuckery AGAIN messing it all up again considering the continuity problems with them both .... and causing people to think they have to cram totks past parts into the old timeline somehow)

[snowangeldotmp3]

i am so serious when i say i think nancy wheeler should get her own YA novel like max and robin and lucas.

[no1ryomafan]

(Minor TFONE spoilers)

I still have TFone brainrot and I didn’t wanna put a hot take regarding it but I gotta say: I feel like people are really missing the point as to why Bee is “annoying” in the film.

It’s understandable if you don’t like the jokes he was given-it gets a little repetitive-but I feel how he is portrayed make sense. Bee is always depicted as the underdog, and in this canon he was given the worst job. A job worse than the miners. A job that most people don’t know exist, and he’s alone. It’s so apparent how lonely he is if he’s made robots out of spare parts who he pretends are alive just to have some friends, and when Orion and D-16 come down he’s enthralled. There’s ACTUAL people he can talk to. And he keeps on talking the more and more robots they encounter because he’s finally seeing people again.

Like if you were left alone for god knows how long, forgotten, yet you still clung onto some hope and then finally someone else met you, wouldn’t you want to blabber off to them? It’s debatable if this characterization is good for Bee, and I’m not saying he’s a deep character-not compared to Orion or D-16-but it make sense in this context when you really stop to remember what position he was left in.

[baysfuffysocks]

Random thing but whoever decided to make Oliver blonde first….

Marry me

[wright-anyth1ng-agency]

coming out as the number 1 monix monosix whatever HATER. THEY ARE 9 YEARS OLD AND THEY ARE BEST FRIENDS.

(WARNING THE TAGS ARE JUST ME RAMBLING OMG IF YOURE NOT A LN FAN IGNORE THIS POST SORRY I HAVE THE LN TISM. mawtism. if u will.)

[probablygayattorneys]

Okay, now that I've had time to get my bearings and sit with Another Code and really think about what I want to say about it, I am prepared to do so.

First off, the Switch remake is not Trace Memory. In fact, if you were like me and played Trace Memory as a kid but then it kind of fell off your radar and you didn't buy a used copy on eBay to replay it before you replayed the remake, you would be forgiven if you had a little niggling feeling that you couldn't place that you had seen all of this somewhere before, but not where. Ashley's name isn't even the same - Robbins is spelled with only one b, which I do understand is the same as in the original UK version, but was still quite jarring to someone who's only played the US version.

I didn't feel like I was playing the same game. There's not a single puzzle that I remember as being the game, and where the original made use of it's hardware, so too does this game, having puzzles that depend on the gyroscope, which might be frustrating if you're playing in docked mode and the controller you tend to use doesn't have gyroscope controls.

It is certainly more fleshed out. There are more parts of the map that you get to visit, and you learn more about the Edwards family, though it also felt like it unraveled more threads than it was willing to wrap up, which is peculiar because it also got rid of one of the most interesting aspects of the original game, which is the multiple endings. No matter what you do, the game funnels you into the "good" ending, which I won't say more details about, just in case anyone reading this hasn't played it. This is a little annoying, because it feels like it's taking away one of the things about the game that made it so special, that the choices you make ultimately matter, but is also overshadowed by the fact that I suck at this game and always have, so I never got the good ending on my own, so now knowing why what happened had to happen and how things ended up the way they did... it's nice to have the closure I was never skilled enough to achieve on my own.

Another cool aspect of this game is that Sayoko being Japanese is not incidental - they actually spend time explaining various aspects of Japanese culture, instead of DTS cards Richard's diary is left on origami cranes, and there's a sweet moment where they talk about the meaning of the name Mizuki. As well, there's actually more depth given to Sayoko's character, even though she was still fridged.

So ultimately... Is it a faithful 1:1 recreation of the source material? No. In fact, you might feel frustrated because it feels like the game is treating you with kid gloves - from things like the forced good ending to the fact that anytime you're working on a puzzle, you just have to press a button to get hints and if you go through all of them it basically just tells you the answer straight out - which, in all fairness, it is.

But is it still worth playing? Yes. It's still a good game, even with the oversexualization of Ashley and the fact that with the camera, you spend most of the game looking directly at her ass and she's 13 years old. If you like puzzle games, which if you don't why are you even following me, it's definitely a worthy entry into that catalogue, which does seem to have been drying up lately.

Now, do I want them to make a remake of Hotel Dusk in the same style?

Hell fucking no. The game was good, but not "I trust you with my baby" good.

[findafight]

Miraculous au

"before I start it's important you know this wasn't my fault."

Well. His Kitty sure has a way of setting him at ease. "You know that's probably the quickest way to get me thinking it's definitely your fault?"

Grimalkin sighs and plops, not ungracefully, beside him. "It really isn't. There are few, if any, things I could have done differently to prevent this, Red."

Red Scarab raises his eyebrow. "Oh? And what is "this", kitty cat? Leaving me in suspense isn't gonna help you if it actually is your fault"

He rubs his face in his hands, pinches his nose too. It's a habit Red Scarab has watched him do a dozen or two times by now. He's frustrated and probably embarrassed. Damn. "My best friend knows who I am."

"what? How!? You know our id-"

"she figured me out!" Grimalkin doesn't even make a pun of it, his nose scrunched and cheeks red. "She just. I rescued her, and instead of calling me 'grimalkin' or 'grim' or even 'malkin', she says "bye, my actual real first name"! I almost brained myself tripping when I heard her."

Eddie tries to steady his breaths. Okay. Alright. He wanted to be the first to find out Grim's identity, wanted to maybe be the only one who knew, but fine. He could share. They could work with this.

"how'd she know? She see you transform or something?"

Grim chuckles. Which, rude. This is pretty fuckin serious, little kitty cat. "She said when she saw Grim on tv he seemed familiar, then he kept being familiar. How he moved, talked, smiled. Something niggling at the back of her mind when she saw the heroes of Indy. Then, when I rescued her, it clicked. Suddenly whatever magic the miraculous puts around us to conceal our identities faded, and all she saw was me, her best friend, in silly cat ears and a mask. Saving the city."

"I find the ears charming." Red Scarab finds them absurdly cute, actually. But flirting with his kitty is for later.

"thanks. And that's it. She just. Knew. Saw right through me"

"you trust her?"

Grimalkin nods. "More than anything. I doubt anyone other than her could figure me out, anyways."

"yeah?" A bitter swoop of jealousy tangles itself in Red's stomach. Grim's voice is filled with unabashed fondness when he speaks about this nameless girl. He trusts her more than anything. More than red?

"well," he starts, as though reading Red's mind "maybe the same as you. In regards to my own health and life. I dunno. It's different with you. You're my partner." And ain't that just the sweetest thing? Grimalkin might be in love with some other mystery boy, might be so close with his best friend she saw through ancient magic to his core, but whatever is between them is special. Is different.

Flying above Hawkins, their borough of Indianapolis, bonds them differently than the others. Sure, Grim has friends and a potential boyfriend (as much as that pains him to think of) in his civilian life, and even a best friend who knows about his secret, but they'll never be his partner. Never have the same connection to him as Red does, saving the city from a superviallian. Red Scarab will hold onto that and keep it close to his heart for a while.

Grim nudges their shoulders together. "I really am sorry, though. You deserve to know who I am too. R--my best friend would probably get along with you like a house on fire, I'm a little worried about you meeting" and there he goes, saying such nice things. Acting like them knowing each other's identities and being ingrained in each other's civilian lives is an inevitability. Eddie hopes it is. The people his kitty loves seem, from the sparse details he's shared, quite bizarre and friendly and lovely. They must be, if Grimalkin loves them so.

"yeah? Think I'd recognize you out of the mask?" He says, instead of I hope so, I'd love to, I want to see all of the people you love and love them too.

He laughs. "Probably not. Hopefully not. Don't think I could handle knowing more than one person can see through me so well."

"would you recognize me?"

"no." He says it immediately, and it hurts, just a little. Like being dismissed. (Grimalkin doesn't mean to hurt him, he knows. Thinks the flirting is just for fun, a game, and not Eddie desperately trying to win the heart of a man whose goodness and snark and exasperation and humour stop him short and steal his breath away.) "I don't think so. The Miraculi magic is supposed to protect our identities, and once someone knows, they can see the overlap. Only someone who really, truely knows you and is looking would be able to break it. It happened to me because we have legitimately thought about the pros of combining into a blob person. I don't think many people are actually like that. They certainly don't seem to get me and --and my best friend." He shrugs again. "I dunno. That's what it seems like, anyway."

Grim grins at him. "Wouldn't be very magic if I just saw you walk into work one day and blurt out 'Red Scarab? Is that you!? I'm the guy in a catsuit you beat up supervillains with!' Would it?" If that happened Eddie would probably name it the single greatest thing to ever happen to him, actually. Second only to finding Tikki in his backpack after Hellfire a few short months ago. But his kitty is a romantic, and if he wants a dramatic, heartfelt reveal, then Eddie won't push it. They've got time.