random thought, but i had a vivid image of, if helsknight and welsknight ever saw each other without armor (or just helsknight out of his armor tbh), helsknight showing welsknight the scar tanguish gave him and saying "this was intended for you."
i don't know how in character that is, but tbh it's haunting me. maybe it's part of helsknight's revenge against welsknight or something, calling out his unknightly behavior and unhonorable conduct.
"You didn't answer my summons."
Helsknight froze. It was a quick, momentary startle, a short-circuit of normality. The moment he did it, every instinct told him to keep moving. That old command [Do something.] blared loud in the quiet surprise of his mind. So he moved his hand to pick up the brush on his table, and pretended to be unconcerned.
"I'm not a dog. You can't call me to heel," Helsknight said simply. He smirked and growled, "Though if you feel like losing some limbs, feel free to try."
Behind him, Wels shifted uncomfortably. Helsknight liked making Wels uncomfortable, he didn't handle it well. He was a creature used to comfort and ease. Inconvenience often galled him more than a sword to the throat. Different tactics for different battlefields, and this battlefield was a delicate one.
Helsknight was cleaning his arms and armor, which was one of several reasons why he hasn't leaped for a fight when Welsknight had called him to one. He was only in a tunic and breeches. It was luck he even had his boots on. He had offered to run errands with Tanguish, but Tanguish had said he was visiting his church and wanted to go on rooftops. So Helsknight stayed home, and he left his boots on. That was the other reason Helsknight hadn't answered the call: Tanguish wouldn't know where he was, and he knew Tanguish got paranoid about being left behind. Besides, Helsknight had chores he could do at home [like cleaning his arms and armor] so he stayed. Cleaning the chainmail was almost a formality. Hels was hot and dry, and he wore it often enough that the rings clattering together cleaned themselves. But sometimes he just liked putting an extra shine on things, so he took out his brush and oil and started brushing it down for any miniscule specks of rust or broken links he could find.
Wels, always keen on the times he wasn't wanted, decided now was the perfect time to show up in his living room. He stood awkwardly, waiting on Helsknight to make some aggressive movement. When none came, he cautiously stalked further into the tiny living space. His emotions were loud and uncomfortable without the distance between their respective worlds to dampen them, and they clung like smoke against Helsknight's skin. Caution at an unfamiliar space. Disgruntlement at being ignored.
[Guilt, like ash on a burn.]
"Is this... Yours?" Wels asked, glancing around.
"No, I'm just squatting in a random house. Sounded like a fun way to spend a Tuesday."
Helsknight felt the ant-bite sting of vicarious agitation and smirked. He was already getting on Wels's nerves.
[Good.]
"Couldn't build something nicer?" Wels snapped impatiently.
"I'm a fighter."
Helsknight found a place on his chainmail to brush down and got to work. The rough, grating twinge of the coarse bristles on chain made Wels wince. Helsknight always found the noise pleasant. Like scratching an itch.
"So?"
"I have better things to do than spend hours building the perfect house."
Wels scoffed and looked around the room with renewed disdain. "Where's your little devil?"
It took Helsknight a moment to place what he was asking. He sneered, a quiet bearing of teeth, and caught the flicker of red in the reflective shine of his chainmail. Wels looked pointedly away from him.
[Like ash on a burn.]
"Not feeling remorse... are we, crusader?" Helsknight asked, finding a new place to polish. The coin-drop clatter of chain, and the shrill scrape of bristles filled the silence like an accusation.
"Of course not," Wels sniffed disdainfully, still refusing to meet Helsknight's eye.
"Careful." Helsknight murmured, that red flash reflecting off his chainmail again, anger simmering. "Lying's a sin."
"Why would I feel remorse for protecting my home?"
"A crusade well fought I'm sure."
"It's not a crusade!" Wels snapped, his own anger a living thing raising hackles. "A crusader invades! A crusader fights a holy war just for the principle."
"Right. And you're fighting because--"
"Because I'm protecting Tango."
"-because it's for his own good?"
Wels didn't exactly wince, but he did still, as though he'd heard someone draw a blade from its scabbard. Helsknight might as well have unseated his sword. He had stopped scrubbing, all pretense of work falling. The need to pace, to circle, to corner, rose up in Helsknight like a waking beast.
"Interesting choice of words. Protecting." Helsknight said, his voice low, his hands still. "I was under the impression they were friends. Do you often protect Tango from the people he's begging you to spare?"
"That doesn't matter." Wels said so firmly it was almost convincing. Almost. "People are convinced they need an abusive relationship. That doesn't change the fact it's bad for them."
"So many interesting words today," Helsknight hissed. He stood like a dark tower rising, all embered fury slowly stoking. Wels didn't bother turning to face him. He could feel his intent like thunder. "Abuse. Brings to mind the image of power. I do have a question."
"I didn't come here for your stupid questions."
"No, you came here looking for a fight."
"I didn't."
"You really do need to tame that lying tongue."
"I didn't come here for a fight."
"Did it feel powerful?" Helsknight demanded, pacing a step, and loathing the tiny room for denying him the space to circle. "The voice. The command. How did it feel."
"Shut up."
"To have someone begging you not to hurt them," Helsknight continued relentlessly. "Not your stupid play fighting on your stupid little server. True, shaking, terror. Did it feel good, crusader? Just?"
"I told you to shut up!" Wels shouted, taking a threatening step forward only to find Helsknight had closed the space between them and stood looming like a rook on a tombstone.
Fear, a caged thing howling, battered against Helsknight's anger. It made Helsknight feel almost giddy, the crash of malicious schadenfreude and self-righteousness against Wels; a flickering thing of brittle will. They made a terrible ouroboros together, fear feeding anger feeding elation feeding fear. They were always like this. No matter how calm either of them tried to be, once anger kindled in one, their emotions burned until there was nothing left but fury and loathing. Helsknight had been made to cut Wels down to size.
"Do you know what that kind of fear does to people?" Helsknight demanded again, his voice so near a whisper it was smothering. They were so close together, but they made so little noise, all will and wide eyes. "What happened to mercy for the helpless, crusader?"
"He wasn't helpless," Welsknight said, trying very hard not to back down. "He stabbed me."
"And a drowning rat bites. I wouldn't call it an apex predator. Certainly I wouldn't call it a danger to you, with your full armor and sword." Helsknight bared his teeth at Wels, something like a bitter grin. "I wasn't wearing armor."
Wels looked down, where Helsknight had drawn up his tunic to reveal the new scar in his abdomen. Wels looked like he'd stopped breathing.
"This was intended for you," Helsknight said. "You should thank me."
"You're-- you're here telling me he's harmless," Wels laughed nervously. "But he almost killed you. You."
Something in Helsknight snapped, and in the moment it took him to reach for it with white knuckles and compose it again, he'd shoved Wels hard in the chest. It didn't knock his other half off his feet, but he stumbled back hard enough hit the opposite wall. Not hard enough to hurt, but certainly hard enough to warn.
"He did," Helsknight snarled, pacing forward slow steps. "That's what terror does to helpless people, crusader. It makes them bite. It makes them beg. It makes them clamor to live. You. Did. That. What did it feel like to abuse that kind of power Wels? To turn someone into a scared animal? To make someone so desperate they would almost kill a friend? Did you find your righteousness there crusader?"
Helsknight didn't know what he planned on doing. Violence was in his blood like a serpent, and he wanted it. And Wels knew he wanted it. There was the ring of drawn metal, and the silver-bright glint of an enchanted blade in a dark room. Helsknight's advance stopped at the top of Wels's sword, not close enough to hurt, but close enough to warn.
"Stop." Wels said. A command. A plea.
"I'm unarmed."
"That doesn't matter."
Helsknight smiled, and there was loathing and euphoria in it, and the wine-dark dread of Wels right on the other side of it. The knowledge of a line crossed, a battle he hadn't even realized he was fighting made forfeit.
"Fine." Helsknight said. "My blood's already been spilled once on your behalf. At least this time do it with your own sword, coward. I'll make it easy for you."
He took a step forward, and nudged the blade with a knuckle, resting the point against his scar. The metal was cold, even through his shirt, the enchantments alive and writhing so close to his skin.
"How cruel have you gotten while I wasn't there to keep you in check, crusader?"
There was a long breath of silence between them. Helsknight stood, precarious and predatory, daring Wels to kill him. And Wels stood there, and dared himself to as well. And the room was dark, lit only by red anger and blue dread, and the pale, languid flicker of enchanted steel. And neither of them breathed. And the universe watched.
A loud clatter sounded on the roof. Both knights looked up towards the ceiling, Wels in startlement, and Helsknight in resignation.
"And he stays my hand once again," Helsknight sighed.
"What--?" Wels didn't get his full question out before Helsknight moved. He knocked the sword aside and lunged forward to grab Wels's shirt. In a move that would've made Martyn proud, he dragged Wels forward into his knee, knocking the wind out of him. In the time it took Wels to collapse to the floor, Helsknight had taken his sword, and held the point beneath his other half's chin.
"Go home Wels," Helsknight said, "before I send you there the hard way."
Wels, breathless on the ground, let out half a strangled laugh. "Why don't you?"
"Because I was asked nicely not to go running off and killing you."
"Helsknight?" A loud knock sounded at the door. Tanguish's voice, a bright comfort even in spite of its concern, called to him. "Is everything okay? I thought I heard something fall."
Helsknight glared meaningfully down at Wels, who only hesitated long enough for Helsknight to draw back the sword before slipping back to his world. The moment he did, Helsknight felt his breath leave him, the great void of being left to his own thoughts and emotions. In the wake of everything that was Wels, he felt ridiculous.
[What in hels had he even been about to do? Die on someone's sword to prove a point? Idiot.]
"Helsknight? The door is locked."
"I'm coming," Helsknight called, pausing only long enough to hide Wels's sword beneath the couch, where Tanguish couldn't see it and inevitably worried about it. He checked his tunic to make sure he hadn't managed to actually stab himself [he hadn't] and went to let Tanguish inside.
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Ringlord High King of Everything Elrond, inspired here
(@the-writing-goblin)
I imagine in this situation elrond would have been partially tempted by boromir's declaration, but instead of trying to fight sauron with it (because even in the weirdest crack au i can think of elrond is still too genre-aware to try that) he tried to use it to supercharge his use of vilya and protect everyone.
basically Ringlord!Elrond turned the entirety of Eriador into a mega-gondolin situation: massive walls (courtesy of numenorean/eregion tech) around the regions bordering the north or Mordor, fortresses along the mountain range and several layers of gates along every road in or out. Everybody goes in; nobody goes out; everyone is safe.
and he ended up claiming the kingship to give him more authority in the process - he's High King of the Noldor and Sindar and King of the Edain (given that there are like three half-vanyar in middle-earth, he's more or less king of all children of iluvatar) and so he can have command over the entirety of the West.
and with the help of the Ring, this actually works! but the corruption starts to show eventually
he uses his kinship to Gondor to forcefully drag them into his neo-gondolin-empire-creation so he can ensure none of his great-nephews will ever have to face sauron. he extends the walls to encompass Mirkwood, because he's the high king of the sindar and has a duty to protect thranduil's realm, and unleashes the full might of his melian-lite powers to purge Sauron's Shadow and the spawn of Ungoliant from the now-Greenwood.
Galadriel and Glorfindel very much see where this is going and are very very worried. galadriel won't let him build walls around lothlorien (because she lives next door to a balrog and knows exactly what happened to gondolin) but celeborn thinks it's a good idea, since after all Doriath wouldn't have fallen if Melian's girdle had still been up. glorfindel tries to talk him out of it but the ring has taken hold
the Ring's power also enhances all his natural weirdness and powers - he has his wings and maia markings permanently activated now, with or without finwean anger. he can fully shapeshift, and he goes from raising waves in the bruinen to raising tsunamis in the great sea.
except the finwean anger seems to be permanently activated now, too, and anyone who harms someone he's deemed under his protection finds themselves the target of a rather ironic vengeance quest. the shapeshifting is looking weird now - his teeth are always sharp now, and his eyes have gone fully inhuman. sometimes he has claws and his wings look more like bats than eagles. and his water powers are more like osse's- he can't calm the waters now (goldberry is the first to notice something's up) and can only stir them into massive ship-sinking storms and tsunamis.
this progresses until he's basically Evil Luthien ruling over a continent-wide Mega-Gondolin, slaughtering orc-hordes before they even reach the white walls and sinking any naval fleet Sauron tries to send around the coast. Everybody is brought in; nobody leaves; everyone is safe...?
he figures out that the dwarven legend of "Durin's Bane" has to be one of the few first age balrogs thats still unaccounted for. and well, it's living right on his border, and he can't risk another fall of gondolin, right? so he leads a small force in there to clear moria, and they shove the balrog off the edge, but it takes one of his captains (except glorfindel) with it (maybe erestor?) and he uses the ring and saves erestor, (and maybe floods the balrog for good measure), and glorfindel is sure he saw elrond's eyes go yellow for a moment.
and even fully corrupted, he knows he can't take the ring directly into mordor. but he can wipe out sauron's armies outside the walls, to protect his kingdom - because turgon's mistake was thinking he was safe even when there were balrogs and dragons and orcs outside, right?
somewhere along the way, arwen realizes what's happening and goes to live with galadriel. one of the twins goes with her; the other stays out of loyalty but eventually follows.
elrond's kingdom has become a cross between doriath and gondolin now, with all the surrounding lands warped by ring-magic to hide it, and layers of stone walls and iron gates preventing anyone from leaving. because everyone is here; nobody leaves; everyone is... safe?
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Pondering Sniper with his Emotional Support Scout (AU)
Modern+College AU speeding bullet
Both in their early transitional age (Scout is 19, Sniper is 22), they’ve already spent a handful of years, supposedly taking the steps to build their futures, but are they where they want to be? Are they going to where they want to be? Where is it anyways?
I just had the idea for a more grounded side to their story, slice-of-life in a coming-of-age setting, with themes of existentialism. I aged them down to make it work… Under cut for info dumps about these goobers 8)
Scout took a break right after high school, working for his family business (an unsuccessful one, ran by one of his oldest brothers). This used to be a summer job, a way to get extra money as a kid, but now he’s been a full time worker for 2.5 years, familial obligations exploiting him to stay, while being undermined by his narcissistic brother. He eventually gets out of it, but has to face the hurt from being used, and also the fact that he had to grow up so quickly as a kid (especially when he has to deal with the fallout caused by his Mom’s and Spy’s affairs. He and his Mom are in good terms, it’s just his Mom isn’t a good support system atm). Left to face the real world by himself, he tries to find a way to stabilize by himself, while trying to face his trauma (trauma from a missing father figure, and being treated as the black sheep of his family) as he finds a way to be more himself and be happy. He’s optimistic and responsible when the world calls for it, otherwise he’s most likely to test this new freedom (for better or worse). Eventually Spy comes around to try to reconnect with Scout, there’s no telling how Scout will cope with it when he’s in the midst his new-found freedom.
Sniper went straight to university, never once took a break from the school work, because he thinks that’s the only way to go about in life. He took up a program and career plan that was not right for him, but struggled his way through by retaking course’s countless of times, pulling off impossible all-nighters, etc. At some point he gave up, began to drop classes every semester, and finally quit the program. However, he started working somewhere in the industry he had been studying years for. He thought this could bring him forward, but it kept digging him a deeper grave. He’s a workaholic, impulsive, but lost. At a very young age, he was a subject of a tough custody battle between his neglectful biological parents (Lar-nah and Bill-bel), and his grandparents (who are Mr and Mrs Mundee in this AU). From that, his guardians want him to be better than his parents, and in return he strived for that. However, after giving up, he feels like a failure and is currently going through a period of depression. However, with the money he earned from his job, he wonders if he should take that road-trip he used to fantasize. He told himself doing this will help him find himself, but a part of him wonders if its just him trying to run away from something. Either way, he’s got a deal for a junk RV and he wants to renovate it!
After all that, Scout and Sniper meet, their lives are in the cross roads, and their relationship is a turning point as well. It feels like the world is moving faster than they can cope with, but can they find some respite in this new relationship together? DUN DUN DUUUN
Phew this was really fun to write! I really like their dynamic, romantic or not (idc). Them being the same age range inspired me to write this, because I know myself and some friends have gone through this similar experience aswell, and I just think its fun/interesting to explore that with they have in cannon.
A lot of this projection tho lmao with a loose base derived from cannon, and some embellishments to make this AU work.
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