#migraine speaks. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

[tethered-heartstrings]

in the tags tell me what organ you would delete/remove from your body assuming there were no consequences

[twst-migraine]

y'all the stitch event is so stupid it's funny.

LOOK

The implications that neither Floyd or Azul have ever seen a dog is hilarious to me.

Also this,

this was said after the one of the text options for mc. Basically just them saying that Stitch is a dog. Now the twst team could've had literally any other character in this bunch say it. Any other. But they specifically chose Jack, why? Probably just to make fun of him, and I love it. Hilarious.

[alwaysurvalentine]

bad days are meant to be shared - st fic

Written for Day 10 of @steddieangstyaugust - prompt: "Where were you?" - word count: 3.7k - cw: some cussing, mentions of nausea but no vomiting (Steve Harrington centric, but Eddie saves the day)

enjoy! 💛

Working at Family Video is fine. It really is. It can be mindless but Steve doesn’t mind it, or at least he doesn’t mind when he wakes up feeling refreshed. Instead he got to wake up feeling groggy, a heaviness settling in his head that he knows can turn into a migraine if he isn’t careful. His heartbeat is already pulsing through his body but he figures the medicine he took this morning with his coffee should hold off the worst of it until Robin comes in. She’ll be able to talk to the customers and he can just focus on restocking the shelves and rewinding tapes. He’s just got to make it until 2. Only one hour to go until she walks in and so far it’s been pretty quiet for a Friday. Only one more hour and then he won’t have to answer the phone when it rings or-

Speaking of the phone, it starts to ring and he sighs. He wishes he didn’t have to answer, but would rather answer than listen to it continue to ring – acting like an ice pick to his brain.

“Thank you for calling Family Video, how can I help you?” 

“Steve! Hey!” Robin’s out of breath on the other end of the line and Steve can picture her wrestling jeans on while talking on the phone. “Can you do me a huuuuge favor? Can you please please cover for me today? Chrissy invited me out to the lake for a picnic!”

He knows he’s going to regret it, especially with how his head already feels, but he also knows she’s covered for him before. Plus, he’s been dying to tell her ‘I told you so’ about the whole Chrissy Situation (TM), since Robin refuses to believe the other girl likes her. Steve’s seen cheerleaders flirt, he knows what it means that Chrissy always finds a way to touch Robin in some way. Examples include bumping shoulders while they walk all the way to brushing Robin’s hair behind her ears – Steve swears she’s hopeless. The girl can figure out Russian in no time, but a girl flirting with her? Might as well be the nuclear codes. Though he thinks Robin could figure that out faster.

“Yeah, Robs. ‘Course I can.” His voice comes out more gruff than he intended, but the light from the front window is just hitting his eyes worse than it was before. The echo of his pounding heartbeat intensifies. There’s a small pause on the other end of the phone, damn Robin and her ability to read him. “Someone’s about to walk in – talk later?” 

“Sure, but Ste-” He hangs up. No one’s walking up to the store but Steve stands behind the register for a moment regardless. He crosses his arms on the counter in front of him and leans against them for a couple breaths. Now he’s got four hours to go before he can leave and no one to cover for him if this headache does become a migraine. Hopefully Hawkins will decide to go to the actual movie theater in town rather than coming in for a rental. Four hours until he gets to go home. Where he planned on cooking dinner for Eddie tonight, shit. His head throbs at the idea. No, it’ll be fine. He’ll make it through his shift, make dinner for Eddie, call Robin to ask about her date, clean up dinner, and then go to bed. Imagining his and Eddie’s bed, soft sheets and fluffy pillows gives him some hope; imagining Eddie’s arms around him when he falls asleep brings a small smile to his face. 

The bell attached to the front door rings and he sighs before standing straight, his customer service smile already painted on his face when he realizes it’s Dustin that’s walked through the door. As always, his curls are wild under his cap, and he’s wearing his green ‘Camp Know Where’ shirt. 

“Steve! Get this! So was messing around with my mom’s radio to see what parts I could use to make my own phonograph -” And the pulsing is back. Steve knows as long as he keeps on nodding every so often and places a couple ‘oh really?’s in there Dustin will carry this whole conversation on his own. Dustin’s mom is a saint, but Steve knows that sometimes her suggestions for ‘Dusty’ to get some air is to give her some time alone in the house. Which usually leads him to wherever Steve is or the rest of the Party – Steve seems to be the lucky winner today.

A family makes their way into the store, Mrs. Dawson and her two boys. Steve doesn’t remember their names but he eyes them as they race off to the cartoon section of the shelves. Mrs. Dawson sets down a couple movies in front of him on the counter, a grimace on her face. Her lipstick is a bright pink that almost hurts to look at. 

“Let me just pull up your account to get this squared away. Did you need help finding anything today?” His voice sounds plastic even to him, and distantly he can hear Dustin still talking about the pieces of the camcorder. What the hell is a beam splitter? Anyway – Amelia Dawson’s record shows the two movies on the counter, she’s turning them in on the last day before late fees but that’s fine. He checks that she’s returned them and goes to grab the cases (Robin Hood and Pete’s Dragon smile up at him from their plastic covers); now that he has his hands on them – are very sticky. Like dipped in caramel sticky. Luckily Mrs. Dawson’s attention is back on her boys who have decided to try and play tag in the aisles, uncaring of their elbows catching on movies at the end of shelves and leaving them to clatter on the floor. Steve fights a gag at the feeling and scoots the movies to the side of the counter, he can rewind them later. 

“So as I was saying, now I just have to get a couple of parts from Radio Shack and I should be able to record my own waves and see what they look like. If I can do that, then-” Steve tunes him out again, nodding along like he has any idea about what Dustin is talking about. Why does he need to see how words sound?

“Boys, come on now, we don’t want to keep daddy waiting – let’s go. Time for a late lunch.” Luckily, the twins – who he finally remembers are Michael and Matthew – take off towards the door at their mom’s words. Pushing at each other to see who’s going to get there first. The cardboard cut out for the month, Sigourney Weaver’s character from Aliens, falls to the floor in their wake but at least the store is noticeably quieter without them. Dustin asks to use the bathroom and Steve just nods as he rounds the counter. The movies that fell earlier get placed on the shelf and he makes a mental note to move them to the right places before he leaves today. He’s standing the cutout back up when he gets hit with a wave of nausea. He closes his eyes and slowly inhales, knows if he pukes now the rest of his shift will be absolute hell. With his eyes closed it’s a lot easier to hone in on the sounds of the fluorescent lights. Normally it’s a gentle buzz in the background, but today the lights seem to be doing their best impression of a drum line that just won’t quit. The nausea lessens and Steve glances at his watch. Just three hours left to go.

~

“Steve, what do you think?” Hazel eyes blink and Dustin comes into focus again, his eyes expectant. Steve knows he’s waiting for an answer to something but he genuinely has no idea what was just asked of him. Dustin’s eyebrows furrow slightly as the silence continues. Steve’s head is still throbbing and he can feel his heartbeat all the way down to his fingers. 

“What did you say?” 

Dustin huffs, rolling his eyes before repeating(?) his question. “I said, do you think that we can record the sound of silence as a sound wave? Because when it’s quiet your ears can make that ringing noise, do you think it’s quantifiable? And if it is, do you think there’s some kind of link to that sound to the part of the ear that is affected by deafness?”

Steve knows all of those words individually, but thinking of them in a sequence that makes sense to him right now is not happening. He even knows what Dustin means by the ringing noise, but he didn’t realize other people heard that too – thought that was just a him thing. Dustin must be able to tell he doesn’t have an answer because he crosses his arms. 

“Do you even listen to me when I’m talking?” Steve shouldn’t, especially with how riled up Dustin already appears to be, but he tunes him out again. Choosing instead to focus on the man walking through the door behind his friend. 

“Welcome to Family Video!” 

Distantly Steve wonders if Robin and Chrissy are having a good time at the lake, it’s been a sunny day. Probably hot enough to swim honestly. He feels bad for thinking it, but he hopes that Eddie’s bandmates are gone by the time he gets home. Normally he’d be fine with them at the apartment since they help bring out the best in Eddie, but he knows that they can also get pretty loud, especially if they’re messing with their instruments. He still needs to reorganize the shelves and rewind a couple films before the end of his shift. The thought of dinner makes his stomach turn and he wishes he could just go to bed once he gets home. But tonight’s his turn to cook, him and Eddie switching off days to make sure no one’s cooking all of the time. 

“Excuse me?” A hand snaps in front of his face, bringing his attention to Mr. Jameson’s annoyed face. “Can you check me out or not? I don’t see anyone else here.” His words bite and Steve silently nods. Glancing at the title before looking up his name in the system. The screen is blurry and all the words look like one long dark line across the screen. 

“Sorry, sir. Your total is-” before Steve could finish a five dollar bill was placed on the counter. “Okay, your change is $3.50. Here you-”

“No, you owe me four dollars back. Not $3.50. This is why I normally have that girl check me out. You’d think you’d know how much to charge by now.” 

“No sir, it’s 50 cents per day, and typical rental time is three days. So that’s $1.50 which makes your change $3.50.” The change sits in Steve’s hand, two quarters pinched between his index finger and thumb. Mr. Jameson stares him down, eyes filled with anger, and Steve’s over it. Whatever, he’s got 5o cents in his car that he can put in the drawer to make it balanced later. He pops open the drawer and pulls out another dollar, dropping the quarters back into their slot. Four dollar bills are snatched from his hand and Mr. Jameson grunts before stomping out the door. 

“Steve? What the hell? You’re just going to let him talk to you like that?” Dustin’s voice is shrill when he talks, getting higher near the end, and Steve just breaks.

“Please shut up.” Dustin’s mouth closes with a snap, a look of hurt on his face. Steve wants to say more, explain that having his eyes opens hurts and that he can’t be bothered with customers who don’t know how to be decent; can’t be bothered with remembering what parts of the radio and camcorder and VCR player Dustin took apart for his personal project. He wants to explain that he really needs to put a cold compress on his head and lay down in the pitch black silence of his room for a few hours to be human again. 

None of this makes its way out of his tense jaw though and Dustin must decide he’s done with Steve for the day because he says nothing before turning and making his way towards the door. Fuck.

~

The last two hours of Steve’s shift passes in a blur. Someone tries to call the phone and instead of answering he covers his ears until the ringing stops and then unhooks it from the receiver. A couple of girls try fluttering their eyes at him to see what his weekend plans are but all he can think about is how he’s going to get through dinner with Eddie, and they finally leave with a disappointed glance at each other. 

Finally, he’s able to turn the open sign around – and then he remembers he never organized the movies from earlier. He fixes the shelves by dwindling sunlight, having shut off the overhead lights as soon as he could. It takes him about 30 minutes to fix it all, pausing every so often to just stand with his eyes closed. The words have lost their meanings and he hopes that basing his sorting off of the cover pictures is good enough.

Sitting in his car is the most relief Steve’s gotten all day. Eyes closed behind sunglasses he had clipped on his visor and the engine off he takes the time to breathe; the nausea has been coming and going on its own in waves and he almost wishes he could just go to sleep in his car. Getting back to the apartment is only possible through muscle memory and the knowledge that dinner still has to be made. He waits another few minutes in the car, trying to decide if any of the cars outside are of the band’s, or if he’s officially got Eddie all to himself. For the first time today he feels lucky when he doesn’t see Jeff’s car. 

Living on the second floor has its benefits, like not having upstairs neighbors and getting lots of natural sunlight for the apartment. It also has its downsides, like carrying heavy groceries in the heat and getting up to their door in one piece when a migraine has him by the throat. Even his key turning in the lock makes him cringe, clenching his teeth together as he steps in. It’s quiet in the apartment, a certain stillness in the air that Steve appreciates. He toes off his shoes, setting his keys in the little ceramic bowl El gifted him and Eddie when they moved, and then bends to straighten his shoes to the wall. Bending does not help his nausea and he swallows down a gag. 

“Stevie, honey? You make it home?” Eddie rounds the corner, a grin already on his face. His hair rests on his shoulders, frizzy curls around his head like a halo. Steve musters a small smile at Eddie, closing the distance between them with a few steps. The shirt Eddie’s wearing is well worn, old enough now that the words on the front have faded into the black around them and the collar is stretched out enough that Steve can almost see the top of a spider’s leg.

“Hey, hungry?” Normally Steve matches Eddie’s energy as best he can, but he can already feel his energy draining again. Should’ve sat in the car for a little while longer. He presses a quick kiss to Eddie’s cheek and continues his path to the kitchen. 

“You read my mind. You okay with cooking while I finish up some stuff before dinner? I promise you’ll have me all to yourself once food is ready. Just have some chords to figure out after talking with Gareth about some timing stuff.” Steve hopes Eddie’s looking when he nods because all of the movement from the stairs has caught up to him and he doesn’t think he has it in him to speak right now. 

Alone in the kitchen Steve just breathes. Almost done. Just have to brown the meat, toss it into some sauce and make the noodles. Easy. 

~

All of the ingredients are sitting on the counter when Steve finally loses the battle with his nausea and darts to the bathroom. He keeps the lights off, more focused on kneeling on the tile and trying to breathe through his gagging. A few minutes go by and he’s able to take a full breath in – just sitting down has taken the edge off. The darkness of the bathroom is more than welcome, he just wishes he wasn’t crouched over in his jeans still. Soft footsteps sound from the hallway heading towards the kitchen, guess Eddie finished his stuff.

“Stevie? Where’d you go?” As much as he’d love to answer, the effort it would take to yell for Eddie isn’t worth it right now so instead Steve leans against the tub, coolness spreading across his back. Another moment passes and Eddie rounds the corner to the bathroom, confusion on his face.

“You okay, sweetheart?” 

Three words and the dam holding Steve together just, breaks. His head pounds worse when the tears start but he can’t stop now that he’s started. Today sucked. And now his night’s going just as poorly. Can’t even get dinner made. Eddie’s still looking at him but he can’t make out his expression through the tears blurring his vision. 

“Okay, alright, come here.” And then Eddie’s kneeling on the ground, arms outstretched for Steve to lean in to. As soon as he leans in, he’s crumpling into Eddie’s arms. 

~

Steve’s not sure how long they sit there, him crying into Eddie’s shirt, but the collar is nice and damp by the time he pulls away.Disgusting.

“As much as I love this surprise cuddle session, wanna tell me what’s going on?” He knows Eddie doesn’t mean to, but the sound of his boyfriend’s voice almost seems to echo in the bathroom. Steve shakes his head and whines, tries to burrow further into Eddie – done with pretending. His head hurts and his whole body feels heavy like concrete. Right now the best thing in the world is having his eyes shut, head tucked into Eddie’s neck, and having his back rubbed. Without an answer though, Eddie leans back, staring at Steve hard like he’s going to hear the answer if he thinks at Steve hard enough. 

“Head.” Just one word takes a herculean effort and Steve watches as recognition lights in Eddie’s eyes. Finally. And then Steve blinks long and slow. 

~

When Steve cracks his eyes open again he’s greeted by the wall of his and Eddie’s bedroom instead of the white of the bathroom. His head is still pounding but at least it’s dark in here, the curtains are drawn and he has a feeling even if they were open only the moon would greet him. He knows Eddie’s not currently in the room because the air feels still, and distantly he thinks he can hear movement in the kitchen. 

Shit, dinner. He was supposed to cook dinner tonight. He hears the small creak of the door opening and he shuts his eyes again – he’s not ready to see or talk to Eddie yet. Embarrassment heats his face remembering how much he cried earlier, not that Eddie hasn’t seen him in worse states. But Steve Harrington taken down by a simple headache? Stupid. Can’t even contribute to the house like Eddie. Can’t keep up with Dustin when he talks. Can’t be happy for his best friend when she lands a date. 

“Hey, baby. Gotta wake up, I want you to take some medicine and drink some water.” A gentle hand is on Steve’s calf, rubbing slightly to ‘wake’ him. He burrows deeper into the blankets instead of rolling over.

“Baby…” And now Eddie just sounds disheartened, another person Steve needs to apologize to. Eddie first, for crying for no reason. Then Dustin for not listening to his rant. Then Robin for not being more excited for her. “Medicine and then water, then you can sleep some more. Come on.” 

“I’m sorry.” Steve rolls over, tugging the blanket with him . He’s miserable and can’t think of anything better than sleep. Tomorrow he can make it up to Eddie; make him breakfast, do the laundry, make a grocery list, ask him how handing out with the guys went, check in about -

“-vie, I need you to focus for just a couple minutes. Where do you keep going? Get out of that head of yours, can’t imagine it’s helping your migraine.” The words are whispered and Steve blinks at Eddie. Brown eyes meet his and he manages a small smile. 

“Sorry.”

“No need for all that. If you’d listened the first time you’d know I don’t mind. I love getting to take care of you. I love you. Stop worrying about whatever it is, there’s nothing you need to make up for – so no more apologies.” Eddie’s so earnest when he talks, a smile on his face causing small dimples to form. He’s holding a glass of water in one hand and a couple of pills in the other, but it’s the damp washcloth Steve can see draped on his wrist that brings a tear to his eye. Doesn’t matter if Eddie never said those three words again, his actions say them enough. Damp wash cloths when Steve’s head hurts, standing up for Steve when one of the kid’s decides they don’t want to explain a reference they make, or even when he flashes him a knowing smile behind Robin’s head when she’s talking about Chrissy. He’s full of love, and no matter how much Steve might feel like he’s messed up – he knows Eddie’s got enough love for him too.

“Hey, why are we crying? Sit up and take these.” With a small sniffle Steve nods, sits up, and takes the medicine. The washcloth is cool on his skin where Eddie rests it, letting him burrow back into the blankets – and the last thing he feels is a gentle kiss to his cheek before sleep takes him again. 

[snipp-snapp-snute]

XX

JUDGEMENT

[withacapitalp]

Corroded Coffin gains a weird reputation in the metal world for having really accessible concerts.

It's still a metal concert. There's no avoiding killer loud music and rowdy crowds, but they do so many things other bands don't. They hand out CC themed ear plugs and headphones for free as merchandise, even though it loses them a ton of money to not charge, they're one of the first bands in the scene to have an interpreter who travels with them and signs at their shows, they offer free tickets to all personal assistants, they refuse to play venues that aren't wheelchair accessible. They won't even accept 'temporarily' wheelchair accessible. Places that put up a hasty ramp that will easily get torn down after they leave are unacceptable.

It becomes a pretty big deal as they gain publicity and fame. Fans know going in about the things that are always the same at every show, and they end up creating a stir in the metal community about making concerts something everyone can enjoy.

And the most important thing (for Eddie at least) is they never do pyrotechnics or strobe. Ever. There is no flashing lights, so sudden bursts of fire at any Corroded Coffin show, not even for the openers. They won't even play big concerts with other huge bands if they're going to have those special effects. Managers and fans alike have practically begged for these things, but the band always shuts it down. No discussion, no explanation, just a simple 'no'.

The real fans know the reason. They know that it's all for the lead singers found family, so they can go to any show they want to if they decide to. It's for the family, but especially the sweater loving weirdo who's been going to their shows since 1986. The one who never misses so much as a rehearsal, even though he doesn't really like metal music. The one always sitting on the sidelines wearing industrial grade neon orange headphones, heart eyes, and a big smile.

[strawberrysamara]

[apollos-boyfriend]

crumb shape practice

reference/base

[moonshynecybin]

[lavenoon]

Meds didn't kill the migraine and you still gotta go to work </3

[tothechaos]

in "anecdotes that sound entirely made up," this evening i was at dress rehearsal for the show im in, the importance of being earnest. i was in the dressing room and one of the costume assistants fainted. i caught her and was asking her if she was alright, if she knew where she was, etc. the uh. unfortunate part is that i was asking her entirely in character, which includes a british accent. imagine if you will, fainting, and when you come to, a man dressed as a mid 19th century woman is asking you if youre alright in a british accent. i think i would faint again

[cake-chad]

Something something Gideon always inevitably wakes up with Kremy on or curled up next to him because being cold-blooded he seeks out the literal furnace sleeping next to him every night.

Frost is usually nearby too, but only if they're sleeping outside and not in beds, he's not cold-blooded but he is a cat, of course he likes to be near a heater too.

And now that I think about it, Torbek would be there too, having gone through what he has and severly underweight, his circulation is terrible and despite having his own layer of fur, he just can't stay warm on his own, so he sleeps sandwiched between Gideon and Hootsie

Just. A whole cuddle puddle of all of them, Gricko curls up next to Hootsie, Twig sleeps under Gideons arm, and when Pigtunias around she acts as a pillow for him

I love cuddle puddles and I love characters who naturally make everyone more comfortable to sleep around them 😭��

[twst-migraine]

Bruh Ace is so in denial about his crush on Yuu. Like he tries to flirt with them and then realizes what he's doing and immediately ruins it. It's okay pookie! Let your heart out, don't be afraid to let yourself go.

[toacertaindeath]

They should invent a head that doesn’t hurt

[romanceddawn]

ignoring puzzleshipping, theres something funny about my favorite atem ships being dragonshipping and revolutionshipping while my current favorite yugi ships are now rivalshipping and kleptoshipping

yugi saw atem wooing his best friends and was like "super happy for you! I'm going to go date your enemies now brb :3" atem does not approve of this.

[dinsbeskar]

do you think that before the fall of Numenor Sauron dressed up as Halbrand again and went to the forge he worked at to tell them "you better get outta here, trust me"

Naaaaaaaaaah I can't think about it!!!!

Not sauron getting sentimental and going back to the forge, finding the blacksmith who gave him a chance, and putting him and his family on a boat.

Ummmmm your brain???

Whenever I tackle the fall of numenor (probably when s3/4 comes out, let's be fair, so it's a way off) i will remember this and link you (if you drop your username I'll credit you 💜)

Oh dear, never mind, I wrote it. I'm tagging sauron x reader bc it fits into my series, but reader is only mentioned like once lmfao sorry.

Putting on Halbrand again is a strange feeling after having walked the streets of Númenor as himself. The people knew him as a dark wizard, would bow their heads and scurry out of his path whenever he deigned to leave the palace, so to walk among them as a ragged commoner once more was strangely refreshing.

Too bad the isle was on its countdown to destruction.

He'd actually grown to enjoy his time here, corrupting an entire people's very souls, bar the few Faithful. They would prove useful, as they prepare their ships today to leave for Middle Earth, their attempts at subterfuge no match for his all-seeing gaze.

The streets wound and meandered down the hill toward the sea, the guild district apparent from the scent of smoke and clanging of hammers. It took him only a quick glance inside the shop to know he was in the right place. The smith was older, noticeably so, and his ward had grown from a boy into a strapping young man, but he recognised them instantly.

"Show me your work, and I'll think about it."

Those words had changed everything for him once upon a time. Aulë’s smith had wanted nothing more than to craft beautiful things in that tiny forge, left alone to do his penance. Morgoth's shadow scoffed at the idea, now his plans were near fruition, but a tiny part of him wanted to save the beauty of the craft he'd seen in that tiny family-owned shop.

"Well, don't linger in the doorway, lad, come in, what can we do for you?" The smith's gruff voice rang out like a hammer on steel, jerking Sauron back to the present.

"Greetings, good sir, I don't suppose you remember me-"

"Nonsense! Halbrand, wasn't it? I thought you went across the sea? Shame that, you were one of the best apprentices I ever had, even if it were only for a few days."

Sauron grins at the indignant look on his apprentice's face.

"Only one of the best? I suppose I'll have to take that." Look at him, humble. It was possible.

"Well, the lad here gives you a run for your money, and if you'd stayed longer...? You haven't aged a day." The smith trails off as Sauron steps closer, the light from the furnace bouncing off his rugged face.

"Probably something in the water." He shrugs; bandying about pleasantries was not why he'd come all this way.

"Listen, I've heard there are boats leaving the island soon," he raises his eyebrows, "and it might not be a bad idea to get on one."

They look at each other, take a beat, then scoff, laughing at the idea of leaving paradise.

"Why would we want to do that, eh, lad? Me whole life is here, I'm an old man, I'm goin' nowhere." The old smith replies.

"Call it... a gut feeling, that Númenor is in danger. That perhaps the faithful are the rats leaving a sinking ship?"

Why is he doing this? In the back of his mind, he has to wonder what his true purpose is here. Certainly, the craftsmanship is superb, it would be a terrible shame to see it sink beneath the waves. Definitely nothing deeper than that, definitely not the vaguest notion of doing a man a good turn when he'd offered him the same, so very long ago.

The old smith seems unconvinced, exchanges a few more pleasantries, but the young man at his side seems more pliable.

"Good to see you again, Halbrand. If you don't get on one of them ships, come back and I'll see if I can throw some work your way." The smith laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.

Sauron winces imperceptibly, the feeling of flesh on flesh so casually still a strange notion, even after all this time.

He nods and departs, waiting for the apprentice to run after him. He does so, predictably, and Sauron fixes his best surprised expression before turning around to greet him.

"What you said, about the boats? What do you know?" The lad asks, almost muttering to stay out of bounds of any prying ears.

"Just that they're leaving tonight and tomorrow, and that you should get on one." He gives him a knowing look, trying to impress upon him that he can't say what will happen, but that something will and it will be cataclysmic.

"I can't convince him to go, but folks have been talking for a while now, what with that new temple on high and the wizard in the palace, things are..."

"Precarious." Sauron finishes his sentence for him, nodding knowingly.

He had been responsible for a good many changes under Ar-Pharazôn's rule, the temple for Morgoth probably his crowning achievement. Of course it had set some of the common folk on edge, but that was a small price to pay for the hearts of a nation.

"I'll try and convince him." The lad finally replies, worry etched on his smoke-blackened face.

"Do. And don't fail."

Sauron leaves then, giving only a second glance to the young man still watching after him. He had tried. One good deed for another, after all. You'd be proud of him, he'd make sure of it.

Oh no. He stops in his tracks, infuriated at the mere thought of you. So that's what has him feeling sentimental.

He curses your name and makes his way back to the palace, taking in the sights of Númenor one more time. It would be any day now.

[nemesis-is-my-middle-name]

oof god idk if I can do the rest of today