#Edit 1 fixed shading

[hybrid-animator]

[deliciousangelfestival]

Change Of Heart - 5 (Edited ver.)

Character: Bucky x Female! Reader

Theme: Angst, tragedy, romance.

Summary: The interviewer asked her a provocative question:

“If you were offered a million dollars, would you leave your partner?”

Without hesitation, she replied with a smirk, “Give me one dollar, and I’ll leave him this second.”

True to her word, she walked away, leaving the man stunned and searching for answers. Now, he’s desperately trying to find her, grappling with the haunting question—why would she leave him so easily?

And is there more to her departure than a single dollar could ever explain?

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5.

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

By the way, I publish my book Arrogant Ex-Husband and Dad, I Can't Let You Go by Alina C. Bing on Kindle.

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Bucky stood near the dock, his hands buried deep in the pockets of his coat. The waves lapped gently against the wooden posts, a rhythmic sound that did little to soothe the restlessness inside him. The sky had begun to darken, shades of deep blue swallowing the last traces of daylight.

"Sir, it's getting dark," his secretary reminded him softly, standing a few steps behind.

Bucky didn't respond immediately. Instead, he exhaled, his breath visible in the cold air. Then, out of nowhere, he asked, "Did your parents divorce?"

The secretary blinked at the sudden question. "No, sir. But my sister did. She divorced her first husband."

Bucky hummed, his gaze fixed on the horizon where the ocean stretched endlessly. "Was it the right choice?"

"I think so," the secretary admitted. "She smiles more with her second husband. He was divorced too. Somehow, they complete each other. It’s like they both learned from their past mistakes."

Bucky finally turned to look at him. "How long have they been together now?"

"Five years."

Silence settled between them. Bucky lowered his gaze, staring at the ground as if lost in thought. His parents divorced when he was young. His father changed wives like the seasons, to where Bucky had lost count of how many stepmothers he'd had. And his mother—she had become a well-known rich cougar, the kind who made headlines.

When two broken people come together, they begin to heal. But what happened between him and you... something still hurts deep down. Though both of you completed each other, seeing you leave felt like it wasn’t enough.

Bucky had spent years running from his past, avoiding the feelings he buried deep within himself. He'd been afraid of truly connecting, terrified that giving in to love would mean vulnerability—and he’d never allowed himself to be vulnerable. But with you, something changed.

He started to open up, piece by piece. He had found solace in your presence, a kind of comfort he never thought he’d experience. You made him feel like maybe it was okay to be human.

But even as the wounds began to heal, a part of him remained fractured. The scars weren’t completely gone. And as he watched you walk away, that deep-seated fear—of losing someone, of being left behind—came rushing back. He realized he wasn’t as whole as he thought he was.

Without another word, Bucky pulled out his phone. His fingers hovered over the screen momentarily before he made the call. He held the device to his ear and started walking, his steps slow and aimless as he paced along the dimly lit dock. A few streetlights flickered, casting long shadows over the worn planks beneath his feet.

The therapist answered after a few rings.

"My advice?" The voice on the other end was calm. "Let her go. Don't stop her. If she wants to come back, she will."

Bucky’s jaw clenched. His grip on the phone tightened. He didn’t agree.

"Do you have any sexual desire toward her?"

"No," he answered without hesitation.

"Do you feel safe when you're around her?"

"...Yes."

"Do you want to come home faster when you know she's waiting there?"

Bucky exhaled through his nose. "Yes."

The therapist paused before asking the last question.

"Do you have feelings for her?"

This time, Bucky hesitated. His lips parted, but the words didn't come as easily. "...No." But his voice lacked conviction.

The therapist remained silent for a beat before finally speaking.

"It will grow on you. Just wait and see."

Bucky lowered the phone, staring at the dark waters ahead. The wind picked up, tousling his hair, but he barely noticed. His chest felt tight, the answer lingering in his mind.

Had he really meant it?

The Next Day

Bucky followed you.

He shouldn’t have, but he did.

He was already waiting by the dock when you returned from your scuba diving lesson. You looked different—lighter, freer. The usual quiet presence he was familiar with had been replaced by someone more expressive, more alive. You laughed while talking to strangers, engaging with them in a way he had never seen before. When you were with him, you spoke to his colleagues, sure, but never like this. With them, it was polite conversation, surface-level. But now? You were glowing.

And Bucky didn't know how to feel about that.

You spotted him standing near the railing, and your smile faltered for just a second before returning. Surprise flickered in your eyes, but there was something else too—relief, maybe.

"You're still here," you said, your voice carrying a mix of disbelief and quiet gladness.

Bucky was about to respond, but then his gaze caught on you peeling off your wetsuit.

He froze.

It wasn’t like you were undressing provocatively—you were simply taking off your gear. But in the two years you'd been together, neither of you had ever seen the other completely bare. You had shared a home, a bed even, but always with an unspoken distance.

His throat went dry, and he forced himself to turn away, his jaw tightening.

Bucky had seen countless women undress before, but this—this was different. This was you. And it was as if some part of his brain refused to process it. He waited in silence, staring at the dark water until he heard your footsteps approaching.

You had changed into dry clothes and now stood beside him, leaning against the dock railing.

“I guess Grandpa won’t allow you to come home,” you said.

Bucky let out a dry chuckle. “How did you know?”

“Just a hunch.”

He exhaled sharply, shoving his hands into his pockets. “You’re right. But I guess… I failed. You don’t want to come back.”

“Not yet.”

Silence. The waves rolled in and out, filling the space between you.

You looked out at the sea, your expression unreadable. Then, as if speaking more to yourself than to him, you asked, “Do you ever wonder why we’re compatible?”

It was a good question. Because in truth, on paper, you shouldn’t be.

Most marriage contracts like yours didn’t last. Some couples couldn’t even stand each other for the duration of their agreement. They broke it off before the ink had dried.

You exhaled through your nose, then said with a smirk, “Because both of us are ambitious as fuck.”

Bucky scoffed. He almost laughed, but he held it in, shaking his head instead.

Then, in a quieter voice, he asked, “If you love me, why are you leaving?”

You turned your head to look at him. Your eyes were softer now, but firm, steady.

“Bucky, I know you’re not ready for this. And I won’t push you. You need to figure it out yourself.”

His chest tightened.

He had spent years figuring himself out. Years battling the demons that kept him tethered to his past. But had he actually moved forward?

“I used this marriage contract to get money,” you admitted. “To have a higher status than my father. Feeling superior to him gave me satisfaction.”

Bucky swallowed hard. He understood that. He understood it too well.

He had never wanted to be in a relationship—not out of fear, but as an act of rebellion. His parents' marriage had been a disaster, a revolving door of broken vows and replacements. His father cycled through wives like a man cycling through business investments. His mother had responded by becoming one of the most infamous rich cougars in town, collecting younger lovers as if to prove something to the world.

Love, as far as Bucky had seen, was nothing more than a transaction.

He had despised it.

But now, standing here, he wasn’t so sure.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. “So this is goodbye, then?”

“For now,” you said, your voice gentle. “I just want to do what I’ve been holding back. I want to grow up.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow at that. “What do you mean? We’re already in our thirties.”

You smiled, but it wasn’t a happy smile. It was knowing, understanding.

“I mean growing up from the trauma.” Your voice softened. “Bucky, both of us were stuck as kids because of what happened to us. Our pasts kept us frozen in time. But I don’t want to stay stuck anymore. I want to move forward. I want to leave the trauma behind.”

Bucky didn’t say anything. He couldn't.

“The reason I didn’t come back,” you continued, “is because I still love you. And that terrifies me. I’m running away because I can’t be near you without feeling everything too much.”

Bucky sucked in a slow breath.

This was the first time anyone had ever said those words to him like this—with honesty, with vulnerability. It was the first time he had ever received a love confession that wasn’t transactional, that wasn’t tied to expectations.

And he didn’t know what to do with it.

You stepped back. “I hope that the next time we meet, everything will be different.”

Bucky watched as you walked away, disappearing into the crowd. He didn’t move, didn’t breathe for a long moment. Then, slowly, he let out a shaky exhale.

Something was shifting inside him, something he didn’t have a name for. It wasn’t just loss. It wasn’t just regret.

It was something deeper.

A few moments later, he pulled out his phone and dialed his therapist.

When the call connected, his voice came out rough, almost reluctant.

“I think I’m starting to have… sexual desires toward her.”

There was silence on the other end.

Then, finally, his therapist sighed.

“Well, Bucky,” they said, “it looks like you’re finally catching up to your emotions.”

He decided to leave you alone, but that didn’t mean he stopped caring. No matter what, you had been there for him for two years. Marriage contract or not, you left a lasting impression on his life.

When he returned, his grandfather was waiting for him, clearly hoping you would step off the plane with Bucky.

When he saw Bucky coming down alone, Tom clicked his tongue. “You’re an idiot.”

Bucky sighed. “Give her time. She’ll be back.” Even though he's not sure when you'll be back.

🌸🌸🌸🌸

One Year Later

The café inside the park was quiet, tucked away between tall trees and winding pathways. The morning sun filtered through the leaves, casting dappled light onto the wooden tables.

Bucky sat alone, a tablet in one hand, a coffee cup in the other. He scrolled through reports, half-reading, half-listening to the sounds around him—the soft chatter of other patrons, the occasional bark of a dog, the rustling of leaves in the breeze.

Then, a voice behind him made him nearly drop his tablet.

“I see you’re still a workaholic.”

His heart clenched. He knew that voice.

Slowly, he turned around—and there you were.

You stood before him, looking different yet familiar. Your skin was sun-kissed, your hair slightly lighter, and your presence felt… freer. There was an ease in your posture, a confidence in your stance that hadn’t been there before.

For a moment, Bucky just stared, as if making sure you were real. Then, a small smile tugged at his lips.

“I don’t work as much as I used to,” he admitted.

You raised an eyebrow, smirking as you pulled out a chair and sat across from him. “Really? Who’s been keeping up with all your work, then?”

“My parents.”

That made you pause. “Your parents?”

He nodded, setting down his tablet. “Yeah. I finally faced it. The whole mess.”

And it had been a mess. For years, he had avoided confronting the real cause of his fears—his childhood. He thought that refusing to engage in relationships was an act of defiance, proof that he had broken free from his parents' toxic cycle. But in reality, he had been trapped just like them. Stuck in the same story, just playing a different role.

It wasn’t fair.

They had lived their lives—moving on, getting remarried, collecting younger lovers, burning through money—while he had been the one frozen in time, afraid to take a single step forward.

So he had done something drastic.

He had cut them off.

No more allowances, no more endless funds. Their luxurious lifestyles had been fueled by company profits, and Bucky had put an end to it.

“This company is not a charity,” he had told them. “You’ve used its assets to fund your lifestyles for too long. If I let this continue, we’ll go down in history as the first corporation to bankrupt itself paying alimony.”

His father had been furious. His mother had scoffed. But in the end, they had no choice. They had to start working.

They had been terrible parents. But, ironically, they turned out to be decent employees.

"Both of them have stopped acting childish," he said. His parents had also stopped playing the roles of sugar daddy and cougar. It turned out money was the solution.

Now, here he was, sitting across from the one person he had waited a year to see again.

"I fixed my relationship with my parents, especially my dad," you replied.

"That's good to hear," he responded.

After spending some time with your dad, you realized that without the rivalry, he's an easygoing person. You started contacting him daily.

“Why did you come back?” he asked, his voice quieter now. “Does this mean you don’t love me anymore?”

Your gaze softened. “No. I never stopped loving you.” You smiled, almost shyly. “I just had a feeling this time would be different.”

Bucky exhaled slowly, leaning back in his chair. “I see. So you’ve completed your self-discovery?”

You nodded. “Yeah.”

The conversation between you flowed effortlessly, lighter than it had ever been. You talked about your travels, the people you had met, and the experiences that had changed you. Bucky listened, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark or a teasing comment, making you laugh. It felt easy—natural.

Then, as if it were nothing, you casually said, “I broke my leg climbing down a mountain.”

“What?!” His eyes widened, panic flashing through them.

You laughed, waving a hand dismissively. “I’m fine. Some nuns from a nearby chapel helped me. They took care of me for a month.”

Bucky frowned, his mind racing. So that’s why you didn’t post an update for a month.

You nodded. “Yeah. They prayed for me.” Then, after a pause, you admitted, “I’ve never prayed before. But I started to. Admitting my anger, my sins… it made the weight feel lighter. I guess I’m sharing my burdens with God now.” You studied his reaction carefully. “Do you think I’ve turned into a religious freak?”

Bucky shook his head. “No. As long as you found peace.”

Silence settled between you, but it was a comfortable one.

Eventually, he cleared his throat. “Do you want something to drink?”

You grinned. “Yes.”

“Caramel Macchiato, hot, less sugar… right?”

You blinked, then gave him a thumbs-up. He smirked before getting up and heading toward the cashier.

When he returned, he placed the coffee in front of you, watching as you took a small sip.

Then you said, “On my way here, I passed by a cinema playing Interstellar.”

Bucky’s eyes flickered with interest. That was his favorite movie—the one he always watched when he had time alone.

“Really?”

“You interested?” You pulled out two tickets and held them up.

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “Let’s go.”

As you both walked side by side, he glanced at you.

“You know,” he said, “you could share your burdens with me too.”

You turned to him, your expression unreadable.

Was that… a proposal?

Bucky continued, his tone calm but firm. “We’ve known each other for two years. You left for one. And yet, you came back with the same feelings. And I waited a year for you to come back.”

Your heart pounded.

This time, it wasn’t just a contract. It wasn’t a transaction.

It was something real. Something earned.

And for the first time, you weren’t afraid of it.

This time, there was a difference between them.

Before, they had been trapped—chained to the past, repeating old patterns, clinging to wounds that refused to heal. They had mistaken their pain for identity, their fears for inevitability.

But now, they had changed.

Not because time had passed, but because they had made the choice to move forward.

They had faced their demons, made peace with their scars, and learned to let go. Bucky was no longer a man protesting love out of spite. And you were no longer someone running away to find yourself.

You had both found your own way—separately.

And yet, in the end, that path had led you back to each other.

-The End-

Epilogue:

Bucky suddenly remembered something. “I should call Grandpa to let him know you’re back.”

You chuckled. “Oh, I already met him when I landed. That’s how I knew where to find you.”

Bucky smiled and shook his head. Even after a year, you still cared about Tom.

After watching the movie, he will take you to meet Tom. His grandpa will welcome you with open arms and finally stop calling him an "idiot."

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[microscotch]

🍹 WOOHOO ON THE BEACH REDUX + WATERDROP EYES 🍹- A COMPLETE SET OF GENETICS

hi party people

SO i made these humble edits of ios skin twoish years ago and figured i should give them a bit of a face lift by giving it the same treatment wisteria got: supernaturals to go with it, an edited lip texture, an eye set to go with it(2) and the tongue actually shows up now like intended!

og description: its basically those darn skins by io with some collarbones i snatched from obscurus-sims, lilith’s buttercup nosemask, sms sugar cravings eyes, jammed some mouseyblue waterline recolor by digi on there because the less tab 4 time the better, these goppolsme lips and the teeth are taken from sixfootsims’ moonfruit skin. is that it? i think so. groundbreaking, i just shouldve called it an edit but i could not not use the opportunity for this ridiculous name. 🌝

i kept the shade range down to the essentials this time around, adding an extra light and extra dark shade to the defaults. 1 & 4 are io’s original colors, the rest is a variety of different trapping actions stacked onto one another.

NOTE: the zombie and vampire default come with an overlay mod! and the werewolf skins are correlated! please check out the hyperlinked instructions given by the respective creator ‼ also, these use the same packages as the original release of the skin, make sure to remove them first!

the eyes are praline's waterdrop eyes and come in 40 colors:

SO here are the downloads:

waterdrop eyes 💧 - custom / gen&town / defaults

wotb skin 🍹 - custom / gen&town / defaults / supernaturals / pngs for recolors + add ons 🖌

edit 01/08/25: freckles + moles add-on here

for the database:

credit: serabiet(base skin), pralinesims (eyes and lip texture), sixfootsims(teeth), keoni(bigfoot + genie), simgigglegirl(correlated lycans), episims(vamp mod), withlovefromsimstown(plantsims), deedee(converted vamp cracks), mouseyblue, digi, lilith, shastakiss(genie hair fix), veronavillequiltingbee(vamp overlay), obscurus-sims, sms(eyeshadow), entropy-sims, goppolsme, tvickiesims for playtesting

[goatskickin]

On the second day of GOATmas, my true love sent to me...

...end tables! Wood recolors of end tables!

I've recolored every end table that EA has created in a pack or expansion that:

1) already had wood recolors

2) didn't have wood recolors, but I felt that wood recolors suited them

For the colors: I am using Dynamite, Depth Charge, Shrapnel, Safety Fuse and Time Bomb by @pooklet, and Nesert and Honey by Io aka @serabiet.

Please check out the Add-On's I've recommended! They are meshes made by community members that will use these textures too. Or, they are bits of CC that go along with these nicely!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Contempo Adirondack End Table - tableenddeckadirondack

notes: base texture. using @hugelunatic's fix, this end table and the adirondack chair will share textures.

Recommended add-on: #1

Country Comfort End Table - tableendquaint

notes: original texture! Not much to say about this one.

Crazy 8 Table - endtablevalue

Notes: same ol texture. no longer shiny

Recommended Add-On: #1

Curvaceous Colonial End Table - tableendcolonial2

notes: this texture was awful! the mesh is bad too. but I triumphed, mostly because I gave it a new texture.

Curves And Swerves - tableendsurfer

notes: brand new wood texture! Love the sleek look of this mesh.

Recommended Add-On: #1

End Table By Splendid Scenes - tableEndHotel

notes: this is one of my favorite end tables! I really liked the two-toned thing that the original texture had, so I kept that.

Recommended Add-ons: #1 #2 Alt Link #2

Four Feet and A Disk - tableendsocialite

notes: uses the original texture for the wood. For the 'metal' I changed that to be in wood shades and have a lil wood grain, as I'd find that a lot more useful. At least for me!

Home Style End Table -tableendcomfy

notes: same texture! I really like this texture, so I felt that I didn't need to change it.

Inner Atoms End Table - tableendatomicage

notes: same base texture. If someone can make those legs a recolorable subset, I'd love it,

Recommended add-ons: #1 #2 #3

Junior Cosmonauts Bedside Table - tableendatomic

notes: did not come in wood recolors originally, so I made some! I thought that the lines of this end table would lend themselves well to wood, and give the end table midcentury modern vibe. 💫

Modest Medieval End Table - tableendmedival

notes: uses the original texture, but it's been edited. This does not have a white recolor - I made one, but it ended up looking stupid, and this mesh does not need one anyway. 🤷

Recommended add-ons: #1

Patchwork End Table - tableendgoth

notes: the mesh is quite nice, so this one has a brand new texture! Sourced from the expensive AL end table.

Recommended add-on: #1

Subtle Touch End Table - tableendelite

notes: uses mostly the same texture, but I removed the curlicues!

The Gold End Ratio Table -tableendcentralasian

notes: mostly uses the original texture which is surprisingly good! I for sure removed the shine on this one.

The Good Butler End Table - tableendluxury

notes: same texture because I liked it

The Mighty Mighty End Table - tableendmission

notes: most every recolor of this end table that I have seen does not use the original texture, and I think that's a shame! I really like the original texture, which I have utilized here.

Recommended add-on: #1, #2, #3 (it's the one called Mission Style Dresser)

Tri Tip End Table - tableendtriangulartile

notes: no need to use new textures; the wood part is so small, it's hardly worth the effort. This does NOT include any RC's for the marble top (not made of wood, so no wood RC's).

Vintage End Table - tableendbohemian

notes: I like this one so much that you get it in TWO flavors! First uses the original texture, with the decorative top and sides and bits at the ends.

And the second one is 'unyassified' (lol) if you have a need for a plainer table.

Download - Sims 2 End Tables - Wood Recolors

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Recommended downloads: ariffrazalin's "One More" Slot Package For end tables:

[handonthemouse]

90 GENETICIZED SKINTONES + DEFAULTS

EDIT: NOT POSTING THIS ON MODTHESIMS ANYMORE BUT THE MEDIAFIRE DOWNLOAD HAS BEEN FIXED. REASON BEING THAT SOME SKINS HAVE DISCOLORATION THAT I DON’T HAVE THE TIME TO FIX : /

First of all, Happy holidays!

This is my second post, and the whole purpose of this Tumblr account is for me to share Sims 2 content that I personally use.

Now, for my game, my favorite skintone set is by oepu, which were defaulted by Sadisticpyro, both on modthesims.

I love this skin because it's not too cartoonish and also not too realistic/shiny. I like that it too has two-toned lips, and has the same lip color as mine. It also goes well with the proportions of how I make my sims.

Anyways, I don't like the skintone shades of any default skintone replacements out there because generally, they make skintone 1 and 2 look the same, and skintone 3 wayy lighter, so I created my own variation and modified the oepu skin: - I made skintone 1 lighter, skintone 3 darker and more saturated, and skintone 4 more saturated and less contrasted. - I made the male and female sims have the same skin so that they don't look too drastic from one another. - I also lightened the nose and browridge shadows so that the skin is compatible on monolids and non-prominent noses.

picture comparison of sims 2 skins: base game, oepu's, and my edit

Afterwards, I used python to turn the 4 skintones into 10 skintones first, each skintone number has these genetic values (using Wardrobe Wrangler):

1 - 0.1 2 - 0.15 [default skintone 1] 3 - 0.2 4 - 0.3 [default skintone 2] 5 - 0.4 6 - 0.5 [default skintone 3] 7 - 0.6 8 - 0.7 [default skintone 4] 9 - 0.8 10 - 0.9

Then, per 10 skintones, I made 3 sets of undertone variations: cool, neutral and warm. So now you have 30 skintones. I thought the first set of 30 was too saturated, so I made the "Natural" versions of them. Then I also decided to make them even more desatured, these are the "Pale" versions. So overall, 90 skintones.

Because I used python, some skins are pixelated, but I really don't mind it. Also, the teeth for some is yellowish but there's some cc teeth overlays you can find online.

DOWNLOAD HERE (MEDIAFIRE) 👈 mediafire link has the default edits, the nondefault geneticized skintones, and a gif preview of the skintones.

Note: If you choose to use the default replacements, remove any default skin replacements you may have in your game.

Again, huge credits to oepu and sadisticpyro for the og skins. I don't think they're active, but if i'm asked to take this down I will gladly do so. I'm just here to share what I already use in my game.

Happy Holidays everybody! 🎊🥳

[reading-hub]

Helloo darling! 🫶🏻

I would absolutely love to request and so many apologies from me if your requests for fanfics aren’t open☹️

I would love a Overlord X F! or GN/reader

Where the reader is surprisingly powerful and more dominant even could overcome ainz if necessary and isn’t a NPC. I would love hcs on how he acts and perhaps how the people act? <3

I’m assuming you wanted the reader to be another former player of that game(?) I did what I could and I hope I did your request justice 😳 Enjoy! 💛 — Hubby

AINZ OOL GOWN with a powerful reader would include..

Ohhhh he’s down bad for you.

He’s always seen you as friend and you were the last people from the guild that actually showed up before servers got shut down. He genuinely appreciated that you wanted to stick by and watch.

What you didn’t expect was being trapped in the game with you…

Your original voices that you had were long gone after the clock struck midnight. Anytime you talked, a sultry voice would linger from your mouth!

If Ainz could blush a thousand shades of red he would’ve when he first heard it. You definitely had a dommy mommy vibe going with your character. He missed your simple and cute voice back when it was just you two.

You tried your best to not act too different from your old self when you and your guild mate were all alone but you felt the urge to intimidate those below you, and a need to have that competitive streak in you anytime you felt like your position as the supreme leader alongside Ainz was shaking.

No. You won’t let Ainz get the upper hand. Not when you’re around!

You felt the need to seduce and turn your guild mate into a blushing mess. Sure he was now a skeleton lord, but you found him all the more attractive regardless.

You always had to knock him down a few pegs.

The floor guardians think it’s a blessing to see you both in the same room!

Lord Ainz loves your dominance. Although he no longer feels much of anything, you bring that fire inside him to having you pin him down or best him at any of the attacks or spells that he thought you never leveled up to.

But Ainz never realized how much stronger you are! Especially now. Anytime he thought he had the upper hand, you were five steps ahead.

Your weapon and spell casting skill level was higher than his by 5! He couldn’t believe it!

Ainz definitely was slightly worried that your power would show especially to the floor guardians, he wouldn’t be overthrown just because you just were so much stronger right?

You teased his worries. Assuring him with that you two were an item, a team, a power couple! It’s both of you against this unknown world!

That small inner old self of yours is still there somewhere! And it’s still loves your guild mate, it’s just now owned by a tall dominant creature with the sultry voice that loves breaking people.

He knows you can beat him anytime. Now he has no excuse to hold back anything with you!

Sure a few buildings collapse around Nazerik but that’s what the NPCs are for. They’ll fix it.

Demiurge is your favorite. He’s your number 1 guardian and he is honored to serve you.

And no, you didn’t edit his coding to be in love you or anything (*coughs* Ainz!).

Demiurge couldn’t more happier to know one of his supreme leaders is cunning and dangerous. Ask and you shall receive with this demon servant! He’s a ride or die for you!!

Albedo and Shalltear are wildcards. They adore and love just as much as Lord Ainz!

Shalltear mainly sees you as a mother figure to her. She wants to ask your opinion on anything. Almost to the point of obsessive, but she knows where the line ends. The last thing she wants is for you to be dissatisfied with her as floor guardian. Please tell her that you’re proud of her once in a while.

Albedo knows she can’t meddle with you and Ainz. Although her coding says she’s in love with Lord Ainz, she’s knows her position as floor guardian comes first!

And she wants both you and Ainz to be happy. Seeing your over powerful casting breaking the sound barrier, she stares with stars in her eyes. She’s feels envy but also admiration for you!

Pandora’s Actor: “Mommy and Daddy??” 🥹 Although Ainz is more so a disappointed dad whenever PA speaks, you quickly found yourself assuring him like a stern but overprotective mother. Pandora’s Actor loves you! Anything you and Ainz say goes!

“Pandora’s Actor, please don’t flirt with the lady guardians, it makes them uncomfortable.” You tell him. “Of course Lady (Y/n)! You have my word!” He salutes, bowing graciously and he marches away to apologizes immediately to the maids for his behavior.

“Huh, even though you created him, he’s somehow more obedient with me than to you, Ainz.” You smirked deviously.

Ainz can only face palm at that moment. Although you were painfully right. The slight feeling of being teased with how parental you two were Pandora’s Actor, it left a warm feeling in him.

Playing domestic scenarios with you was something Ainz deeply loved.

Aura and Mare definitely look up to you. Admiring your strength and look to you and Ainz for guidance.

Aura is confident in your leadership and strong abilities. She wants to be just as strong as you one day!

Mare although timid to talk to you, Mare sees you as a one of the best spell casters in Nazerick, even keeps a close eye on you whenever you fight, taking notes on what he can adopt in their arsenal.

Although you’re much stronger then Ainz, the man definitely appreciates what you do for Nazerick. And is glad that you were the only one that stayed behind when the servers got shut down.

Behind closed doors, Ainz tells you that he’s just glad he’s not alone in this situation, although he has to put up an act around the floor guardians, he’s knows he can relay on you with at the end of the day.

When Shalltear got corrupted, he knew that he had to worry and that the floor guardians were vulnerable.

But at least he can rest easy knowing you can never betray him since you still have a little bit of humanity left in you. At least for now.

[ophernelia]

hi opie how're you? hope everything's going well! i wanted to ask if you would ever be open to making a g-shade presets for commission. i love the way your presets look and would def pay for one.

Hey! I don’t use g-shade, I only use reshade. However, absolutely not. There’s no reason you guys should be paying ANYONE for reshade/g-shade presets PERIOD. They’re so incredibly easy to make and I think it’s greedy as shit for people to have them behind paywalls. Like full stop. It’s just a matter of clicking some effects and adjusting some levels. And not a single one of them is groundbreaking enough to constitute payment for it. I want you to make your own and I’ll help you do it. 90% of the stuff is just a matter of preference. You adjust the levels to whatever you like or what your PC can handle. Play with EVERYTHING. Click every shader and see what it does. Play with the levels on it. And just google anything you’re not sure of. “What reshade shader should I use to brighten up my screen?” They’d tell you levels, dpx, whatever. Point is to just research everything you’re curious about.

! I use the Sunblind mod, Out of the Dark by Lotharihoe, and Northern Siberia Winds Better in game lighting. EA’s base coloring is very dull, dark and blue. So I use these mods to fix that. I also primarily use paid shaders, i.e. Marty’s iMMERSE shaders. Additionally I've edited my graphics file. You can find a pre-made one here.

ANNND ANOTHER THING! LOAD ORDER MATTERS!

If you're using Marty's shaders, then the launchpad goes at the very top. MXAO shaders come next. Then adaptive fog. After that I have RTGI and Relight. I also put SSR quint here too if I'm using it. DOF shaders come next and then SMAA and/or FXAA come after that. Coloring and contrast effects come after FXAA/SMAA. Bloom effects and ambient lighting should go last.

1. Foundation [SMAA, FXAA, CLARITY, + SHARPENING]

There’s a few effects that I use for every single reshade preset. It’s the bare bones of all of them. That’s SMAA, sharpness, and FXAA. Those help with edge smoothing and clarity. From what I remember the shaders for both reshade and g-shade are relatively similar, so just try to find the corresponding one. I use both SMAA and FXAA. Might be overkill but I don’t care. You can use one or the other. They’re meant to smooth edges so they’re less jagged. I usually lower the threshold to 0.05, but my pc is pretty good. I’d recommend starting at 0.02. That goes for both SMAA and FXAA. For clarity, I just pop the clarity effect on. I don’t change anything because it looks fine to me as is. Change it if you want to though. For sharpening, I typically use CAS.fx to sharpen. Adjust the number to your liking. I usually only add a little sharpness. If I need more I add it later when I’m editing.

2. Depth [MXAO, DOF, ADAPTIVE FOG]

I usually use two different mxao shaders. The base mxao and quint_mxao. MXAO is meant for ambient occlusion and indirect lighting. I adjust my settings to my liking, but I always follow pictureamoebae’s guide as a starting point. As far as DOF, I use ADOF and cinematic dof. Sometimes together, but typically just one at a time. The only settings I usually change for ADOF is the bokeh. Bokeh is just the way the lense renders out of focus light. Increasing the bokeh will make those light points brighter. I avoid using it during day light shots because I don’t like how it looks. I typically only use it for shots at night. You can adjust the blurriness of the shader by adjusting the f-stop. The default is about 2.8. I usually keep it there or a little bit lower. I don’t like my background too blurred. For reshade you adjust it by changing the values for the near and far blur curve. You can try out Pxl's settings here. For Adaptive fog I use the default settings. Sometimes I might change the color or intensity, but I tend to not use it too often. Below are my exact MXAO settings.

3. Brightness & Coloring [DPX, Levels, & Selective Color]

Again, there’s no set levels I use or recommend. I change things up constantly. I use lighting mods, so the coloring of the game is already to my liking with that. At most I’ll slap on some DPX to brighten the screen if I feel it’s too dark. All I adjust is the intensity of the effect. Using the levels shader, I usually play around with the black point. It adds more contrast when I make it a bit darker. I like that. You may not. Adjust it to your liking. I use PD80’s selective color for most of the color grading I do in game. I don’t change much. Most times I just lower the saturation of the greens in the game and make them a bit more yellow. I like yellowish-green colors. You might not. Again, change it to whatever you like. Just play with the levels. If you don’t like them just reset the effect.

4. Lighting [RTGI, RELIGHT, ARCANE BLOOM]

I'm still new to using RTGI, but it's used for raytracing. That helps to add realistic shadows to the scene. The shader I use is paid, but you should get it. If you'd be willing to pay me for a commission, then pay the like $5 and pick up this shader. It's a part of the iMMERSE shader set I mentioned earlier. Now, my settings aren't great and I need to play with them more but this is how it looks. It may be too heavy for your pc. It will lower your fps so be mindful of that. I only use it when I film and take screenshots.

Relight is also a paid shader from the same pack. I can't offer any help with that. All of my settings are the same. I just adjust the light colors, position, and intensity depending on the scene. That shader set includes a newer version of relight and I prefer that one. I also use arcane bloom. I only use it to add a bloom effect around light sources, so like a lit lamp or a street light. Here's my settings.

This was long, but that's it. None of this is hard or complex. It's all just a matter of playing around with the settings. And searching for help whenever you need it. You can always download a preset you like and just tweak that to your liking for personal use. You don't even have to start from scratch if you don't want to. Just don't be afraid to hop in and play with the settings. Nothing is permanent. You can always start over if things get wonky along the way.

[clubsoft]

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⠀ ⠀ SUMMER , LO SIENTO ⠀ ⠀ JEY USO / POC ! F ! READER⠀⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀

SUMMARY ⋆ cupid's arrow arrives in the form of a pink cadillac && takes root . WARNINGS ⋆ mechanic!jey / nods towards sexual acts but none are written out / mentions of blood / puppy love heartbreak / lots of fluff / lots of angst / a man talking abt cars but its jey so its cool / longing / minimal char description but written w woc in mind / age gap ( reader is mid - late 20s , jey is late 30s ) / size difference / 3rd person POV ; no use of Y/N WORD COUNT ⋆ 3 . 2 k NOTES ⋆ i originally wrote this fic abt 6 - 7 years ago w someone entirely different in mind but i love it sm that i went back n edited it to fit jey . it's mostly proofread but i doubt its perfect , there might b a difference in quality as well but i think thats the charm of re writing an old story . anyway !! enjoy !!

ACT . 1

With summer that year came the death of Jey— figuratively, of course. The heat nipped at his flesh and sweat beaded on his forehead as his low cut muscle tank stuck to his back. He spent his hours at his workplace, surrounded by the smell of car grease and rubber, and his free moments at the beach, but he could only watch so many sunsets before his heart ached  for something more.

That day, the sun was burning intensely and stepping out of the air conditioned car garage had quickly become an irritation inducing task. Jimmy, his coworker and twin brother, was away for the week, visiting some friends down in the valley. That left Jey alone in the mechanic shop to tend to however many customers he could before he finally closed for the day.

His last customer— as dramatic as it may be— waited in her 1962 Pepto pink Cadillac. With her feet perched up on the dashboard, eyes transfixed on her phone screen and earbuds tucked in, she didn't notice the man until his knuckle rapped on her window. He watched a gasp form on her lips as she shot up, rolling the window down for him.

"Sorry— I didn't see the line go by," she said slowly, smiling sheepishly. He chuckled politely in response, ever the sweetheart, never one to make a customer feel uncomfortable in his presence.

"All good. What can I do for ya?" Jey fixed his loose top and leaned down, eyes shifting hastily over the sleek leather interior of the car. Impressive.

"I just need to get the battery replaced…" Judging from her hesitation and the way she bit the inside of her cheek after replying, she wasn't quite sure of what she needed. Just as he'd expected, her words were quickly followed by: "I think." Jey grinned that easy grin of his, his cheeks dimpling.

"What are the problems you've been having? Is it just not starting?" Her answer came as a confident nod and he held his hand out for the keys, which she placed in his palm before stepping out of her car. He wiped his dirtied hands over his jeans as he stood straight, glancing at the matching pink heart that hung from the keychain— he assumed it was some sort of obsession, but he himself had never found the shade of Pepto Bismol to be appealing.

The sky was beginning to darken, the lights in the garage shining much brighter than they did in the daytime. His last task of the day was an easy one, but he'd missed the sunset with how long he'd been at it. Older cars were set up differently. They were easier to fix— thankfully— but he found himself being extra careful not to touch the clean exterior with his grease stained fingers. The silence was awkward, but it wouldn't have been if there weren't so many questions swimming in Jey's head.

"This is real nice. S’this your car?," he finally asked, looking up for a moment, catching the girl's eyes. Had she been watching him this entire time? Many customers did, more often than not, so to feel a shiver run down his spine upon realizing she was doing such was… odd. What was so different about— Not all of those customers were so pretty… that was what set her apart. Jey blinked; once, twice, a third time, and then cleared his throat. To answer his question, she shook her head and just when Jey assumed she'd leave her answer at that, she began to speak.

"It's my grandmother’s. She's had it for forty years,” she replied, to which Jey nodded. "It's been broken down for a while, I just thought it would be more serious than a dead battery." This time, he shook his head.

"Sometimes, cars shut down if you don't turn ‘em on for a while. Usually, s’not just a dead battery. You got lucky, really." He watched her nod in understanding and divert her gaze back to her phone. There was something detached about the way she answered his questions, how quick she was to turn her attention away when it would no longer be too rude and how focused her words were, as if she picked each and every one carefully as she spoke. He didn't pry, he didn't feel the need to at that time. Everyone was always disturbed in their own ways, it seemed.

It soon became evident that his encounters with the girl would never end. After their first meeting, he'd forgotten her face within the next twenty to thirty minutes, much to his relief. Pretty faces weren’t good news when it came to him. Their second meeting, two weeks later, was passed off as a coincidence— it's a small world, he thought. After their third time stumbling across one another, he finally found out her name. He remembered her face after that night; glittering eyes and honeyed skin, lush lips and a perfect nose.

Jey could recognize her figure anywhere after that, and if he were to say he didn't miss her fingertips brushing against his hands as he held her hips or the feeling of her nails scraping his nape as she crooned his name, he'd be a lying fiend.

ACT . 2

Jey felt dainty fingers thread through his hair, the light scratching of long nails against his scalp. He breathed out a sigh.

"What are you doin’, baby?" he mumbled. Soft tresses brushed against his shoulders as she leaned down to press her lips to his, moving her body into his lap where his arms encompassed her waist. Her lips planted roses and tulips along his jaw and she buried her nose into the crook of his neck, exhaling gently and sending the butterflies in Jey's stomach to his spine, making him shudder.

"I have to leave," she whispered. She never met his eyes when he tried to look at her; instead, she borrowed her face into his chest, avoiding his gaze at all costs. She feared she'd cry, or say something he didn't want to hear just yet. She feared he wouldn't care— worse, she feared he'd leave her first.

"Hey, look at me." She felt the rumble of his voice in his chest, the tenderness of his fingertips against her chin, guiding her eyes to his own. Jey's hand shifted to cup her cheek, his thumb running gently over her skin. "What's wrong?"

"My dad…” she began, and then trailed off.

“Your dad?” Jey coaxed, gently.

“He doesn't like you and he— fuck— he saw me kiss you that one night when you dropped me off and he doesn't want you near me, because he doesn't like that I'm dating someone like you so I—”

Confusion apparent on his countenance, Jey tilted his head, and repeated, “Someone like me?” He wasn’t sure what that meant, for she avoided the topic of him meeting her family like the plague. He’d always assumed it was to do with things she wasn’t ready to tell him about. Never did he think it was to do with him. A naive way of thinking, when he reflected upon it. Yes, he was older, a good decade and some change separating their years, but she was old enough to know what she wanted. He didn’t have a career that made him six figures a year, nor did he plan on working towards one. The only thing he was good at was fixing cars, and he did that with no complaints. To her family, who’d worked hard to get her a college education, put themselves in debt to ensure her a future, Jey wasn’t an equal. Sure, it hurt to not be seen as enough, yet a single glance at his baby and his hurt faded, washed over by the sheer love in her tearful eyes. 

“Age and job, college degree and— bullshit, it’s all bullshit! You take care of me, you make me happy, s’that not enough?” Her voice was raising, becoming fervid with perplexity. Jey cupped her chin with one warm hand, and watched fondly as the simple touch led her to match his slow, steady breathing, letting his closeness answer for him.

Droplets began to flow freely from her eyes, trembles running down her back. She cried herself tired in his arms, only relaxing under the sensation of his fingers drawing circles into her skin. "I don't want to leave you, but he knows I'm gone and if he finds me with you, he'll send me away.” Her embrace tightened around his torso. “Baby, I don't want to leave you."

"S’okay, sweetness," he mumbled. "We’ll figure somethin’ out."

"I have to get away from him, but where am I going to go? And what about you? What am I going to do without you?" Fresh tears raced down her cheeks, swiped away by Jey's thumbs. "I can't make you leave your life here… not for me.. not even temporarily… and I can't stay with him because he'll send me away to somewhere I might never see you again.” Utterly despondent, she let a sob shake her frame. “I'll lose you either way… I'm flirting with the edge of a cliff." Strong arms squeezed her tighter in reassurance. Jey’s heart was aching, hearing her sound so hopeless taking a much bigger toll than he feared he could handle.

"I won't let you jump… I said I’d never let you go, I meant it." Again and again, those words had left his lips. What a fool he’d been to think this was anything but love. When he mistakenly thought he missed the softness of her thighs and the smoothness of her lips instead of her, when he only held her close to listen to her whimper and groan, to feel her legs quivering around his waist. When he thought he would one day get tired of her voice, her laugh, her touch. Inhaling deeply, he filled his senses with her scent, and those three words slipped away before he even felt them on his tongue.

I love you. I'm never letting you go.

Fear had made his body freeze, the gasp that left her lips and the sigh that followed. The lust and courage drained to be replaced by lovesick whispers and tender touches. The soft dips and curves of her body were stamped into his memory and he refused to make himself forget.

His fingers basked in the softness of her locks as he let his mind wander, hoping to find a fragment of a solution among the growing shadows of anxiety. His lover had gone silent, her soft breathing indicating that she too, was in deep thought. He held her tighter, left kisses along her brow, and closed his eyes.

He could take her somewhere, leave behind what he'd known for years. They'd say he ran away for a girl, that she ruined him. It's what his friends always assumed, that she was in it for something else; rarely did women who looked like her truly love, but his baby was a fallen angel with tears of gold and a kiss like freshly bloomed cherry blossoms. Perfect. Oh, so perfect.

There was bound to be somewhere underneath the palm trees where they were safe.

"Baby," he began, his chest rising with a deep breath. "Let's take a trip."

ACT . 3

Jimmy thought Jey was wasting that golden heart of his on the wrong one; ruining his time on someone who'd run away once he was no longer enough, so the news of Jey's departure, especially as it was announced over the phone, had him shaking with anger. Every attempt made at getting his brother to rethink his decision was hastily dismissed, and though he understood how much joy the girl brought the man who'd been wallowing in his own angst, Jimmy was too careful to let her grow on him.

"You're just worried. She's not like that, she's… perfect."

Really, it wasn't her mistake; Jey was the happiest Jimmy had ever seen him, but that happiness was there years back as well, with Jey's high school sweetheart who hadn't looked back after she stomped his heart into the sidewalk and disappeared— completely vanished into thin air. This happiness wasn't nearly identical to the one from years ago, a seemingly purer form of it, but Jimmy never cared to look too closely at the details; he just wanted to help his twin avoid heartbreak.

"It'll only be for a bit, until she can fix things with her dad."

The repair shop was closed already, a sign hanging from the doorknob claiming they'd be back soon! in bright red letters that bugged Jimmy the longer he looked on. He struck the door with his fist, wincing as the metal shook on its hinges.

"You don't get to tell me who to love."

Jey's voice was so awfully calm when he spoke those words, but Jimmy had heard the sigh that followed— the soft, shaky sigh. Jey was scared, no matter how much he denied it, he was scared, but not of leaving, no. It was something else, something Jimmy couldn't guess.

"We both remember what happened the last time you said that, Jey."

Jey's high school sweetheart was a childhood friend of Jimmy's first. As twins, they shared everything. It was only a matter of time before Jimmy’s first friend became Jey’s first love. As they grew older, distance was inevitable. The boys who once played racing games together on their GameCube as kids dodged death by the skin of their teeth while taking part in a race of their own, one with nasty twists and competitiveness that overshadowed their care for safety. Jey being the winner while Jimmy coughed up blood behind the wheel landed them in a fight so brutal, they spent the weekend in the emergency room. Even after that, Jimmy was always there. He was there when Jey ran away from their dad's place, and he was the one who snuck back into their dad's house when they gathered the stuff he'd left behind. He’d been the one to co-sign on Jey’s small apartment, the one to give him his first real kitchen appliance, the only person in his life who could bring him out of a slump with a trip to the movies and cheap margaritas at their favorite diner. Nine minutes older, Jimmy never failed to be a good older brother… but when he made a mistake, it was a big one. He was the one who’d set Jey up with his first love, the girl who held no remorse after abandoning his other half since birth.

"She left me. She just— she's gone… Jimmy, she said she doesn't love me anymore…"

Heartbreak clung to each and every word that left Jey's mouth that night, his voice trembling, tears spilling down his cheeks, the pain in his eyes so evident, even in the dark. That night was stamped into Jimmy's memory and he wished to forget it for it brought on an ocean of guilt that'd drowned him for the months after the breakup. It took years for Jey to recover, the change in body language when her name was mentioned, the sad glint in his eyes still visible, but not anymore; not since the girl arrived in her pink Cadillac.

"I think I'm in love, and I'm not just sayin’ that. I've never been so mesmerized by someone's presence before. Hell, today, I stared at the lil’ crinkles that appear around her eyes when she smiles the entire time she was here. I know you were scared this would happen but she isn't one’a those girls… she doesn't have any other guys; I told you that before. You know that one girl we met at the bar when we all went? She said my baby was the best person she knew… she can't be lying, right? If she is… S’too late. I think I'm in love."

ACT . 4

Her hands shook in her lap, dainty fingers curling and uncurling, gripping onto any piece of reality she could as neurotic thoughts suffocated her and twisted their claws into her flesh. The girl couldn't stop trembling, the countless deep breaths she took useless. She only found solace in Jey's touch, but even those sensations soon rendered futile. Still, he held her hand and wiped her tears.

Jey was humming some old song, moving about the hotel room as if he was indifferent to his own circumstances, but his restlessness spoke louder than his words. He kissed the crown of her head when he came back from the shower, clad in only sweatpants, and as they lay on the bed, he kept her small hand on his bare chest, where she could feel the subtle vibrations of his heartbeat. He ran his fingers through her hair— soothing her nerves to the best of his ability.

Below her fingertips, his smooth skin was stained with ink. Tatau, he called it. Beyond those grease stained shirts and calloused fingers was a vision of beauty, a symbol of the tenderness her beloved possessed. It's for my uncle, he'd said, he was wonderful, woulda adored you.

She was burrowed into his side, head resting on his outstretched arm and her legs thrown over his. Aside from her soft breathing, she was silent, lost in her own sea of thoughts. He could see them swimming in her orbs like koi fish in ponds, each one holding its own maybe's and what if's. Jey hummed, tugging gently on a lock of hair.

"Tomorrow, we'll do something fun," he whispered. The girl's response was a quick nod; she hadn't heard him, he was sure of it. Instead of snapping her out of her daze, he put his hand over hers and let her wrap her fingers around his pointer and middle digits. To believe such small palms held his entire world. "Baby." He squeezed her hand gently. This time, she hummed in response. "Tomorrow… we'll do something fun."

"Okay."

It would take time to keep her ring of fears from tightening around her chest, to stop her from apologizing for something he'd voluntarily done.

"I love you."

"I love you, too." She shifted to press her lips to his jaw, lingering there for a quick heartbeat before he tilted his head down to mold his lips against hers. Her hand gripped his fingers tighter, and Jey couldn't ignore the rush that went through his body the moment her chest pressed against his. Her heart was beating so fast as his lips slid down to her neck and his teeth grazed her skin. "Jey?"

"Yea, baby?" he murmured against her bare chest, untangling their legs to bring himself up to the pillow.

"I'm sorry." She hid her face in the crook of his neck before she continued, "for making you do this."

"You didn't make me do anything," he spoke into her hair, his chest vibrating with each word he rasped out. "Oh, baby… if you only knew all the things I'd do for you."

⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀ © CLUBSOFT⠀⠀ ⠀

⠀⠀ ⠀

TAGLIST ⋆ @days1 / @luvrsluxe / @uceyliyahh / @uceypunk / @punksyeet / @chasssssworld / @ctinadiva / @bookuce / @bratzzzdoll / @mselenalovebug / @sheaabuttaababyy / @partypoison00 / @meemee444u / @pr0wlerpunk / @queeny23 / @mingisfavgf / @brianochka if u would like 2 be added 2 my tag list 4 my wrestling fics , pls like this post !!

[x-dark-whimsy-x]

The Sundered Soul, Chapter 1

Prompt credit for this fic goes to @theroundbartable. I found it on @merlinficprompts. https://theroundbartable.tumblr.com/post/723312849564418048/camelot-is-being-attacked-by-a-sorcerer-somehow

I hope it does this prompt justice!

Twelve chapters are currently written, and now I'm proofreading them one by one. This first chapter is as good as I'm going to get it without a beta. (Any volunteers?) :D Also I will be cross-posting to ao3.

Enjoy!

Edit: I'm an idiot who didn't know how to add Keep Reading. Fixed, I hope.

The Sundered Soul Chapter 1: What Remains

The throne room of Camelot stood empty in the pre-dawn darkness, save for the guards at their posts and one restless prince. Arthur Pendragon sat on the steps below the throne—never on it, not yet—and watched the first pale fingers of light creep through the high windows. The great seat loomed above him, carved stone that had borne the weight of kings for generations. Soon, perhaps sooner than anyone suspected, it would bear his.

He could still see his father's vacant stare from the evening before, the way Uther had looked through him as though he were a stranger. The physicians spoke in hushed tones about shock and grief, about time needed to heal. They didn't speak the truth that Arthur saw in their eyes: the king's mind had shattered like glass when Morgana's betrayal was revealed, and all the healers in Camelot couldn't piece it back together.

King Regent. The title sat uneasily on his shoulders, heavier than any armor he'd ever worn. In all but name, he ruled Camelot now. The thought should have filled him with pride—wasn't this what he'd been trained for his entire life? Instead, he felt only the crushing weight of every decision, every life that hung in the balance of his choices.

"You're brooding again."

Arthur didn't startle—he'd learned years ago to recognize the particular quality of silence that meant Merlin was approaching. His manservant had an uncanny ability to move through the castle like a shadow when he chose, though he was just as likely to crash into suits of armor when distracted.

"I'm thinking," Arthur corrected without turning. "Kings must think."

"King Regents," Merlin corrected gently, coming to stand beside him. "And I've seen you think. This is definitely brooding."

Arthur finally looked up at his servant, ready with a sharp retort, but the words died on his tongue. The morning light streaming through the windows had caught in Merlin's dark hair, turning it to burnished gold at the edges. His eyes—had they always been that particular shade of blue? Like the deep waters of the lake beyond the citadel, holding depths that seemed to go on forever.

Arthur's chest tightened inexplicably. He forced his gaze away, focusing on the middle distance.

"The council meets within the hour," he said, his voice rougher than intended. "Have you—"

"Prepared your papers, polished your ceremonial sword, and ensured the kitchen knows you'll need breakfast after because you never eat before important meetings? Yes, Sire." There was gentle mockery in the title, a warmth that transformed what should have been proper address into something almost like endearment.

Arthur found himself fighting a smile. "I don't know why I keep you around."

"Because no one else would put up with your royal pratness," Merlin replied promptly. "Also, I'm the only one who remembers that you prefer your wine watered at formal dinners so you can keep a clear head."

It was true, and the fact that Merlin had noticed—had been watching him closely enough to discern such preferences without being told—sent another uncomfortable flutter through Arthur's chest. He stood abruptly, needing distance.

"The council will want to discuss the raids on the border villages," he said, striding toward the doors. Merlin fell into step beside him, as natural as breathing. "Leon returned last night with disturbing reports."

"Magic?" Merlin's voice carried an odd note, something Arthur couldn't quite identify.

"When isn't it?" Arthur sighed. "Sometimes I think every hedge wizard and sorceress in the five kingdoms has decided to test Camelot's defenses now that—" He cut himself off.

"Now that the king is indisposed," Merlin finished quietly.

They walked in silence for a moment, their footsteps echoing through the empty corridors. The castle was beginning to wake around them—servants scurrying past with lowered eyes, guards changing shifts with muted clanks of armor.

"You're a good king, Arthur," Merlin said suddenly. "Regent or otherwise."

Arthur glanced at him, startled by the conviction in his voice. Merlin wasn't looking at him, his gaze fixed ahead, but there was something in his expression—a fierce pride that made Arthur's breath catch.

"Merlin—"

"The kingdom sees it. The knights see it. Your father—" Merlin paused, choosing his words carefully. "Your father prepared you for this, even if he didn't intend it to come so soon. You're ready."

They'd reached the council chambers. Arthur could hear voices within, the low rumble of conversation as Camelot's advisors gathered. He should go in, take his place, be the leader they needed. Instead, he found himself lingering, studying Merlin's profile in the torchlight.

There were shadows under his servant's eyes, a tension in the line of his shoulders that spoke of burdens carried. When had Merlin begun to look tired? When had the boyish enthusiasm that had so irritated Arthur in their early days together given way to this quiet strength?

"Sire?" Merlin prompted gently. "The council?"

Arthur squared his shoulders, becoming the prince—the king regent—Camelot needed. "Have my breakfast waiting when I'm done. And Merlin?"

"Yes?"

Arthur hesitated just a moment too long, stifling the open gratitude he wanted to express. Too many watching eyes and listening ears that would pounce on something so un-kingly as thanking a servant, and use it against him. Or worse, use it against Merlin.

"Don’t wander off,” he said instead. “I’ll need you afterward to remind me which advisor is Lord Havelock and which one is Lord Harrow, because I still can’t tell those two wrinkled old buzzards apart."

Merlin blinked, then grinned. "Havelock’s the one with the beard that looks like a distressed squirrel."

Arthur gave a soft huff that might have been a laugh. "Distressed squirrel. Right. That’ll help."

He stepped toward the chamber doors, then paused again, voice quieter.

"And... don’t let the kitchen burn the toast. You always get it right."

Merlin’s brows lifted slightly, but he said only, “Wouldn’t dream of letting your royal highness suffer subpar toast.”

Arthur nodded, then pushed through the doors before he could do something foolish, like reach out to smooth the worry lines from Merlin's brow or ask him to attend the council meeting just so he could have that steady presence beside him.

The councilors rose as he entered, a sea of bowing heads and murmured "Your Highness"es. Sir Leon stood near the great map of the kingdom, his expression grave. Geoffrey of Monmouth clutched his ever-present scrolls, while Lord Cynric and the other nobles arranged themselves according to rank and precedence.

"Gentlemen," Arthur said, taking his place at the head of the table. Not his father's seat—he couldn't bring himself to claim that yet—but close enough. "Sir Leon, your report?"

Leon stepped forward, indicating several points on the map. "The attacks have increased in frequency and boldness, Sire. Three villages in the past fortnight, all along the northern border. The survivors speak of a sorcerer who commands the very trees to attack, who can call lightning from clear skies."

"Druids?" Lord Cynric suggested, his voice dripping with familiar disdain.

"No," Leon said firmly. "The Druids seek only peace. This is something else—someone else. The attacks seem random, but there's a pattern. Each village had recently sent men to serve in Camelot's army."

Arthur studied the map, his mind already working through possibilities. "He's trying to weaken our defenses, make us pull back our patrols to protect the villages."

"Or testing our responses," Geoffrey added quietly. "Seeing how quickly we can mobilize, how we deploy our forces."

"Then we give him nothing to study," Arthur decided. "Double the patrols but vary their routes. I want word sent to all border villages—any sign of magic, any strangers asking questions, and they're to send word immediately." He looked at Leon. "Take Gwaine and Percival, scout the area where the attacks occurred. Look for patterns we might have missed."

"Yes, Sire."

The meeting continued, flowing from border defenses to grain stores to the ever-present challenge of maintaining order with the king's... condition. Arthur found his attention wandering, his gaze drifting to the door where he knew Merlin waited.

It was foolish, this hyperawareness of his servant. Dangerous, even. But lately, Arthur couldn't seem to help himself. He noticed things—the way Merlin's hands moved when he was nervous, quick and fluttering like birds. The particular tilt of his head when he was listening intently. The way he bit his lower lip when concentrating on a task.

"Sire?"

Arthur jerked back to attention, finding the entire council staring at him expectantly. Heat crept up his neck.

"I apologize, Lord Cynric. You were saying?"

"I was inquiring about the feast for the Feast of Beltane, Sire. With His Majesty unable to preside..."

"The feast will continue as planned," Arthur said firmly. "The people need to see that Camelot remains strong, that their lives continue uninterrupted. We cannot afford to show weakness."

The meeting dragged on for another hour, each issue blending into the next until Arthur felt his patience fraying. When Geoffrey finally suggested they adjourn, Arthur barely managed a dignified exit before escaping into the corridor.

Merlin was there, of course, falling into step beside him without a word. They walked in comfortable silence back to Arthur's chambers, where a simple breakfast waited on the table by the window.

"How did it go?" Merlin asked, busy himself with pouring wine—watered, Arthur noted with a fond exasperation he didn't examine too closely.

"Lord Cynric is convinced that every ill that befalls Camelot is the result of magic," Arthur said, sinking into his chair. "Lord Bayard thinks we should increase taxes to fund more soldiers. And Geoffrey wants to consult prophecies and portents before making any decisions."

"So, the usual then." Merlin set a plate before him, the gesture so familiar, so domestic, that Arthur had to look away.

"The usual," he agreed, attacking his breakfast with more force than necessary.

Merlin moved about the room, tidying things that didn't need tidying, adjusting items that were already perfectly placed. It was a nervous habit, one that emerged when he had something on his mind.

"Out with it," Arthur said finally.

Merlin froze mid-reach for a candlestick. "What?"

"Whatever it is you're not saying. You're rearranging my chambers like you're preparing for a siege."

A flush crept up Merlin's neck. "It's nothing, Sire. I just... I worry. About the raids, about you taking on too much. You haven't been sleeping well."

Arthur set down his knife carefully. "And how would you know that, Merlin?"

The flush deepened. "I... that is, when I bring your breakfast, sometimes you're already awake. And there are circles under your eyes. And you've been..." He gestured vaguely.

"I've been what?"

"Distant," Merlin said quietly. "Like you're carrying the weight of the world and won't let anyone help bear it."

The words hit too close to home. Arthur stood abruptly, moving to the window to put space between them. Below, the courtyard was filling with people going about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the threats gathering at their borders.

"That's what kings do," he said to the glass. "They carry the weight so others don't have to."

"You're not alone, Arthur." Merlin's voice was closer now, though Arthur didn't turn to look. "You have the knights, the council. You have—" A pause, heavy with things unsaid. "You have people who would stand beside you, if you'd let them."

Arthur's hands clenched on the window ledge. He could feel Merlin's presence behind him, warm and steady and impossible to ignore. If he turned now, what would he see in those impossibly blue eyes? What might he do?

"I should attend training," he said instead, his voice carefully neutral. "The knights will be waiting."

"Of course, Sire." Was that disappointment in Merlin's tone? "I'll prepare your armor."

They fell back into routine, the familiar dance of servant and master that had defined their relationship for years. But as Merlin helped him into his mail, his fingers brushing against Arthur's neck as he adjusted the collar, Arthur found himself holding his breath.

"There," Merlin said softly, stepping back. "Perfect."

Arthur met his eyes, saw something there that made his heart race. Then Merlin was turning away, busying himself with gathering laundry, and the moment passed.

The training ground was already crowded when Arthur arrived. His knights—his knights, the ones who'd chosen to follow him rather than simply obey the crown—were warming up. Gwaine was regaling Percival with what was undoubtedly an exaggerated tale of his latest tavern conquest. Elyan and Leon were discussing sword techniques while Lancelot stretched in preparation for the bout.

And there, sitting on a barrel at the edge of the field, was Gwen. She caught his eye and smiled, warm and knowing in a way that made Arthur want to fidget like a squire caught in mischief.

"About time you showed up, Princess," Gwaine called out. "We were starting to think you'd gotten lost in your own castle."

"The only thing lost around here is your sense of propriety," Arthur shot back, but there was no heat in it. These men had proven themselves time and again. They'd earned the right to informality.

"Propriety's overrated," Gwaine grinned. "Ask Merlin—he's been dealing with your royal pratness for years without any."

Arthur's jaw tightened. "Merlin is—"

"Standing right there," Lancelot interrupted quietly, nodding toward the colonnade.

Arthur turned, found Merlin lurking in the shadows of the arches, a basket of laundry forgotten in his hands as he watched the knights prepare. When he realized he'd been spotted, color flooded his cheeks.

"I was just—the laundry—I'll go," he stammered, backing away.

"Stay," Arthur heard himself say. Then, when everyone turned to stare at him, he cleared his throat. "That is, someone should be on hand in case of injuries. You know how Gwaine is with a sword."

"Oi!" Gwaine protested, but he was grinning.

Merlin hesitated, then set down his basket and moved to sit beside Gwen. They put their heads together immediately, whispering about something that made Gwen giggle and Merlin duck his head.

Arthur forced his attention back to his knights, drawing his sword. "Right then. Let's see if any of you have been practicing."

The training session was brutal, Arthur pushing himself and his men harder than usual. He needed the distraction, the simple clarity of combat where the only things that mattered were blade and balance and breathing. But even in the midst of a complex drill with Leon, he found his awareness drifting to the edge of the field.

Merlin had produced a small kit of medical supplies from somewhere and was tending to Elyan's scraped knuckles with gentle efficiency. The young knight was saying something that made Merlin laugh, the sound bright and clear across the yard, and Arthur's concentration shattered completely.

Leon's blade slipped past his guard, stopping just short of his ribs.

"Point," Leon said mildly, but his eyes were knowing.

Arthur reset his stance, irritated with himself. "Again."

They went three more rounds, Arthur winning two through sheer stubborn determination, before Gwaine called out a challenge.

"How about we make this interesting? Team sparring—me, Percival, and Elyan against you, Leon, and Lancelot."

"Hardly seems fair," Arthur said. "You'll need at least two more to make it a challenge."

Gwaine's grin was wicked. "Cocky bastard. You're on."

The melee that followed was chaos of the best kind. Six of Camelot's finest warriors moving in deadly synchronization, testing each other's limits. Arthur found his rhythm, Leon on his left and Lancelot on his right, the three of them moving as one unit against Gwaine's more chaotic approach.

Sparring brought order.

Strike, pivot, react. In those moments, the weight of Camelot slipped from his shoulders. No politics, no council, no shadows of his father’s judgment. Just motion, timing, and breath.

Arthur called the rotation. “Circle left!”

Lancelot flanked smoothly. Leon followed. Across the yard, Gwaine, Percival, and Elyan mirrored the shift. Gwaine, true to form, added an unnecessary flourish to his step, as if auditioning for a crowd.

From the bench near the edge of the yard, Arthur caught Gwen’s laughter. Merlin must have said something — probably at his expense. Arthur didn’t mind. Not when things felt, for once, almost normal.

A glint of movement caught his eye: Percival lifting the two-handed training axe, more suited to strength drills than finesse. Arthur made a mental note to question that later, but now—momentum.

He angled toward Gwaine, who was weaving wide in an attempt to bait Leon. Arthur recognized the tactic, cut inside, and drove toward him fast.

Gwaine blinked. “Oh, now you’re trying?”

Arthur ducked beneath Gwaine’s swing and stepped into his guard, catching his elbow and turning his weight. Gwaine tried to counter—too slow.

Arthur released his sword deliberately, letting it drop to the dirt, and used both hands to drive Gwaine backward with a controlled shoulder slam.

Gwaine grunted as he went down hard.

Arthur straightened, breathing fast, ready to retrieve his blade—

And that’s when it happened.

Gwaine’s boot, flailing for balance, caught a length of rusted training chain half-buried in the dirt.

His leg shot out from under him.

His elbow slammed into Percival’s side.

There was a startled shout—Percival’s grip twisted mid-swing—and the axe flew, end-over-end, loosed in a wild arc that glittered in the sun.

Arthur turned just in time to see it coming.

The weapon was spinning straight for his unprotected side. His sword was out of reach. He had no time to move.

He couldn’t stop it.

Then—

“Gestillan!”

The air hummed, and the axe froze mid-air, held for a suspended second before it dropped harmlessly to the dirt at Arthur’s feet.

Silence slammed down over the field.

Arthur stared at the axe. Then, slowly, he looked up.

His servant stood frozen at the edge of the field, one hand still half-raised, his face draining of color as he realized what he'd done. Their eyes met across the yard, and Arthur saw naked terror there.

Then Gwaine laughed, loud and boisterous. "Nice catch, Merlin!"

The tension didn’t break, but it seemed to loosen its stranglehold on them. Leon, his expression carefully neutral, reached to help Gwaine to his feet. Percival approached Arthur, placing his huge frame none-too-subtly between Arthur and his line of sight to Merlin, clapped him on the shoulder and quietly apologized for losing his grip on the axe.

Arthur’s mind spun uselessly as he looked at his knights, perplexed. Everyone seemed determined to pretend nothing unusual had happened. They had all seen it, of that he was certain, and yet the only one who would meet his eyes now was Gwaine, who stood casually less than a sword-strike away. His easy grin never faltered, but his sharp eyes glared, threatening, and the message was clear. Just you try to hurt Merlin, I dare you.

And Arthur couldn't help but turn and stare at Merlin, who was now very deliberately organizing medical supplies with shaking hands, his pale skin almost bloodless from fear. Gwen put a comforting hand on Merlin’s shoulder and whispered something to him before casting an apprehensive look briefly in his direction.

Magic. Merlin had magic.

The thought should have filled him with rage, with betrayal. Magic was evil, dangerous, the root of all Camelot's suffering. His father had taught him that from the cradle.

But all Arthur could think about was how many times he'd fallen—from horses, from walls, in battle—and walked away with barely a bruise. How many times had Merlin been there, quiet and unassuming, cushioning his landing?

"I think that's enough for today," he said, his voice sounding strange to his own ears.

The knights dispersed so reluctantly, he almost made it an order, but then Percival threw his arm around Gwaine’s shoulders and began to drag him off, saying something, with forced cheerfulness, about getting a drink at the Rising Sun. Elyan muttered something about needing to get something from the armory, and Leon fell into step beside him as they walked away. Lancelot paused beside Arthur, his expression pensive.

"Sire—"

"Not now, Lancelot."

The knight inclined his head and withdrew. Arthur found himself alone in the yard with only Gwen and Merlin remaining. His servant was standing now, the medical kit clutched to his chest like a shield.

"Merlin," Arthur began.

"I should go," Merlin said quickly. "The laundry won't—I need to—"

"Merlin." Arthur put command into his voice, saw his servant flinch. "My chambers. Now."

Merlin's shoulders slumped in defeat. He nodded once, then turned and walked toward the castle like a man heading to his execution. Arthur watched him go, his mind churning.

"Arthur," Gwen said softly, suddenly at his elbow. "Whatever you're thinking—"

"Did you know?" The question came out harsher than intended.

Gwen lifted her chin. "I suspected. As did your knights, apparently. As did you, if you're honest with yourself."

"That's not—I never—"

"Arthur." Her voice was gentle but firm. "How many times has he saved your life? How many impossible escapes, how many lucky chances? You're not a fool. You've always known there was something different about him."

"Magic is—"

"What? Evil? Look at him, Arthur. Really look at him. Does anything about Merlin seem evil to you?"

Arthur's jaw worked. He thought of Merlin's ridiculous ears, his terrible jokes, the way he fussed over Arthur's meals and worried about him getting enough sleep. The way he'd stood against sorcerers and monsters and kingdoms for Arthur's sake, armed with nothing but loyalty and—apparently—secret magic.

"He lied to me," Arthur said finally.

"To protect you both," Gwen countered. "What would you have done, truly, if he'd told you that first week? That first year? Would you have listened, or would you have done your duty?"

Arthur didn't answer. They both knew the truth.

"Talk to him," Gwen urged. "Before you do something you'll regret."

She squeezed his arm and left, her skirts whispering across the stones. Arthur stood alone in the empty yard, staring at the spot where Merlin had saved him.

Again.

When he finally made his way to his chambers, he found Merlin standing by the window, his back rigid with tension. The abandoned laundry basket sat by the door, forgotten.

"How long?" Arthur asked without preamble.

Merlin's hands clenched at his sides. "Always."

"Always?" Arthur's voice rose. "You've had magic this entire time?"

"I was born with it." Merlin turned finally, and his eyes were bright with unshed tears. "I didn't choose it, Arthur. It chose me. I've tried to—I've only ever used it to protect you, to protect Camelot."

Arthur tried and failed to comprehend. "All those times—the magical attacks, the creatures, the sorcerers who mysteriously failed—"

"Yes."

The simple admission hit Arthur like a physical blow. He sank into a chair, suddenly exhausted.

"The dragon?"

"Me."

"The branch that fell on that bandit who had his sword to my throat?"

"Me." Merlin's voice was barely a whisper now. "Always me."

Arthur buried his face in his hands. His entire world was tilting, everything he thought he knew crumbling. Merlin—his Merlin—was a sorcerer. Had been lying to him every day for years.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The question came out broken.

"And say what?" Merlin's laugh was bitter. "Hello, I'm Merlin, your father made me your manservant because I saved your life using the same magic for which he would see me burn at the stake?”

Arthur’s breath hitched. “Even then?”

“Of course even then!” Merlin said, exasperation and hurt in his tone, even as his eyes finally overflowed. He angrily scrubbed the tears from his face with the cuff of his sleeve. “You think it was coincidence that a chandelier just happened to fall on that woman after she’d already put everyone to sleep? You think I’m naturally quick enough to race across the room and pull you out of the way of the dagger that would have killed you?”

Arthur opened his mouth, but no words emerged. Well, when he put it that way…

“I wanted to tell you so many times, Arthur.” Merlin said quietly, still wiping ineffectually at his face. “You have no idea how much I wanted to trust you with this."

Arthur shook his head and looked down, struggling to parse all this information. "But you didn't," he said.

"How could I?" Merlin moved closer, his voice desperate. "Your father had children drowned for showing signs of magic. He burned men and women whose only crime was brewing healing potions. And you—you believed what he taught you. I watched you agree with him, watched you hunt down sorcerers—"

"They were trying to kill me," Arthur protested. He couldn’t defend all of his father’s actions, but they weren’t completely without reason.

"Not all of them." Merlin's voice was quiet, sad. "Some were just scared. Some were angry at what had been done to them. And yes, some were evil. But magic itself isn't evil, Arthur. It's just... it's just what I am."

Arthur looked up, found Merlin standing before him, tears now tracking unhindered down his cheeks. He looked young, vulnerable, nothing like the secret sorcerer who'd apparently been defending Camelot from the shadows.

"Were you ever going to tell me?"

"When you were king," Merlin said, his voice wet, strained with the sound of a hope yet to materialize. "When you could change the laws, when it was safe. I promised myself I'd tell you then."

"And if I'd had you executed?"

Merlin's smile was heartbreaking. "Then at least I'd have died as myself, not hiding anymore."

Arthur shot to his feet, unable to bear the resignation in that voice. "You idiot,” he said. His chest felt tight; his heart pierced, and not with the sting of betrayal. “You complete idiot. Did you really think—after everything—"

He couldn't finish. Too many emotions were within him—anger at the deception, grief for the trust broken, but underneath it all, a desperate relief that Merlin was still here, still breathing, still his.

"Arthur?" Merlin ventured uncertainly.

"I need time," Arthur said roughly. "To think. To... process this."

"Of course." Merlin moved toward the door, paused. "Arthur, I am sorry. For lying, for... for all of it. But I'm not sorry for protecting you. I'll never be sorry for that."

He left before Arthur could respond, the door closing with quiet finality.

Arthur stood in the center of his chambers, feeling more alone than he could remember. Everything was different now. Everything had changed.

Except...

Except Merlin was still Merlin. Still the man who brought him breakfast and nagged him about sleeping. Still the one who stood between Arthur and danger without hesitation. Still the person Arthur trusted above all others, the one whose opinion mattered most, the one whose smile could brighten Arthur's darkest days.

Magic hadn't changed that. If anything, it only proved what Arthur had always known deep down—that Merlin was extraordinary.

The thought was terrifying in its implications.

Night fell over Camelot, bringing with it a sense of expectation, like the air before a storm. Arthur stood on his balcony, watching torches flicker to life across the city. Somewhere out there, Merlin was probably in his chambers, wondering if tomorrow would bring execution or exile.

"Idiot," Arthur murmured to the night. As if he could ever—

A commotion in the courtyard below caught his attention. Guards were running, shouting orders. He could hear sounds of crashing armor and cries of pain.

Arthur grabbed his sword and ran, taking the stairs three at a time.

He burst into the courtyard to find chaos. Blue flames licked at the walls, impervious to the water the servants threw at them. A multitude of ravens circled overhead, croaking and cawing.  At the center of it all stood a figure in dark robes, hood thrown back to reveal a gaunt face marked by desperation.

"Arthur Pendragon!" the sorcerer called out. "Face me, or watch your kingdom burn!"

Arthur stepped forward, sword raised. Around him, his knights were converging, drawn by the commotion. He saw Leon organizing the guards, Gwaine and Percival flanking him, Lancelot and Elyan moving to cut off escape routes.

And there, emerging from the shadows like he always did when Arthur was in danger, was Merlin.

Their eyes met across the courtyard. Arthur saw the question there, the readiness to act tempered by fear of exposure. He gave the tiniest shake of his head. Not yet. Let me try.

"I'm here," Arthur called out to the sorcerer. "What do you want?"

The man laughed, high and unstable. "What do I want? I want my sister back, but your father burned her. I want my home back, but your knights destroyed it. I want justice, but there is none to be had in Camelot!"

"My father is not—" Arthur began.

"I know about the king!" the sorcerer spat. "Broken in mind, useless. But you... you're just like him, aren't you? The son following in the father's bloodstained footsteps."

"I am not my father."

"Prove it." The sorcerer raised his hands, the circling ravens cried in unison, a terrifying cacophony, and the blue flames leap higher. "Show me you're different. Show me there's hope for change, or I'll reduce this castle to ash and bone."

Arthur stepped closer, lowering his sword slightly. "What's your name?"

The sorcerer blinked, clearly not expecting that. "What?"

"Your name. And your sister's. If I'm to understand your grief, I should know who you mourn."

"I... Aldric. My name is Aldric. My sister was Anya."

"Tell me about Anya, Aldric."

For a moment, the flames flickered lower. But then Aldric's face hardened again.

"Words," he snarled. "Just words. You want to understand? Feel what I feel. Loss. Despair. The knowledge that someone you love is gone forever."

He pulled something from his robes—a stone on a leather cord, black as midnight but pulsing with sickly green light. The ravens shrieked, and the air was filled with the sound of wings.

"Someone offered me coin to test you, Arthur Pendragon. To humiliate you, prove you to be the weak figurehead you are and, better yet, provided me the means to do so." His smile was terrible. "I'm going to steal the soul of the person you most value. Let's see how you handle real loss."

"You can't—" Arthur started forward, but Aldric held up a hand, muttered an incomprehensible word, and an invisible force slammed into Arthur's chest, holding him in place. The ravens broke from their circling formation and settled on the stone roofs and battlements, gazing down at the courtyard, their sudden silence even more unnerving than their noise.

"Can't I? This stone is older than your kingdom, boy. It hungers for souls, and it never misses its mark." He looked around the courtyard, taking in the knights, the servants, the guards. "So many to choose from. But it will know. It always knows."

"Everyone here is under my protection," Arthur said firmly. "Everyone here is equally valuable. You want a soul? Take mine."

Aldric laughed. "Maybe it will! The stone chooses based on your heart, not your words. It will take whoever you value most – even if it’s yourself! -- and there's nothing you can do to stop it."

"Arthur!" That was Gwaine, sword drawn, but the blue flames formed a barrier between them.

"Although," Aldric continued, studying Arthur with bright, mad eyes, "if it's not you it takes—if someone else here more valuable to you than your own life—then perhaps you're not fit to be king after all."

Arthur's heart was racing, but he kept his voice steady. "Every person under my rule is valuable. Every life matters."

"Pretty words," Aldric sneered. "Let's see if they're true. Let's see who Arthur Pendragon can't live without."

He gripped the stone, speaking words in the old tongue. The green light pulsed brighter, spreading out like seeking fingers. Arthur fought against the invisible bonds holding him, but couldn't move.

He heard a familiar voice call his name, and he turned his head and saw Merlin, who was shoving his way through the crowd to get to him, all caution tossed aside.

The light touched each person in the courtyard—guards who had tried and failed to stop the sorcerer’s approach through the lower town. The people who had followed, out of foolish curiosity or lack of self-preservation. His knights, Leon, Gwaine, and Percival. Gwen and Gaius, who had appeared in a doorway. The green light passed over them like they were nothing. It swirled, searching, hungry.

Then it found Merlin, just as he emerged from the crowd and stumbled into the courtyard. Arthur realized a moment before Merlin did, because, as the sickly light streaked toward him, Merlin was too focused on Arthur to realize the danger he was in. There was only a moment for their eyes to meet before Merlin noticed the light that was racing straight at him. He raised his hand in defense, and Arthur saw his eyes flash, a brief, strange glow--

The light struck Merlin like a physical blow. His eyes went wide, the glow extinguished, a strangled gasp escaping his lips, and then he was falling, crumpling to the stones like a marionette with cut strings.

The courtyard went utterly silent.

"What?" Aldric stared at the fallen servant, then at the stone, which now pulsed with a contained light. "That's... a servant? Really?"

"What did you do?" Arthur's voice came out raw, desperate. The invisible bonds had released him, and he was across the courtyard in seconds, dropping to his knees beside Merlin's still form. "What did you do to him?"

"I... I took his soul," Aldric said, sounding bewildered. "The stone takes the soul of whoever you value most. But why would it choose a servant? Unless..."

Merlin's chest rose and fell with mechanical precision, but his eyes were closed, his face slack. Arthur touched his cheek, found it cool.

"Merlin?" No response. Arthur grabbed his shoulder and shook him. "Merlin, come on. This isn't funny."

Merlin blinked his eyes open, and Arthur was so startled by the bright gold of his irises that he jerked back, as if burned.

Merlin sat up, staring blankly ahead.

“Merlin?” Arthur’s voice broke hoarsely. “What—what are you—” He stopped as Merlin turned his head slowly to look at him and Arthur felt his blood run cold. Merlin’s glowing, golden eyes were open but empty, like windows in an abandoned house. There was nothing there, no spark of recognition, no warmth, no Merlin, even as his servant – his magic-using servant -- sat up and slowly got to his feet.

"Oh," Aldric breathed, looking at the pendant that now pulsed with bright, golden light. "Oh, this is bad."

Merlin raised one hand, and his eyes burned brighter, the glowing gold of his irises bleeding into pupil and sclera.

On the battlements, the ravens shrieked and took to the air, dispersing as quickly as they came.

The temperature in the courtyard plummeted. Frost spread across the stones in spiraling patterns. The blue flames went out like candles in a hurricane.

"This is very bad," Aldric said, backing away. "You should run. All of you should run."

"What's happening?" Arthur demanded, standing but not moving away from Merlin. "Why are his eyes like that? What's wrong with him?"

"Don't you understand?" Aldric's voice was high with panic. "Look at him! Really look! That's not human magic—that's raw power. He's not just a sorcerer. He IS magic."

Merlin tilted his head, studying Aldric with those terrible golden eyes. When he spoke, his voice was hollow, emotionless. "You are a threat to Arthur Pendragon."

"No, wait—" Aldric threw up a shield, but Merlin's hand cut through the air, and the shield shattered like glass.

"Merlin, stop!" Arthur commanded, but Merlin didn't even pause. Another gesture, and Aldric was lifted off his feet, choking.

"I surrender!" Aldric gasped out. "I yield! Please, I'll return his soul, I'll—"

Merlin closed his fist. There was a sound like breaking wood, and Aldric crumpled to the ground, unmoving. The stone fell from his lifeless fingers, still pulsing with that contained light.

Then Merlin simply... stopped. He stood perfectly still, hands at his sides, staring at nothing.

"Merlin?" Arthur approached cautiously. "Can you hear me?"

No response. The glow of his eyes faded until only his irises burned gold, but they remained empty, unseeing.

"He has magic," someone whispered.

"So not the problem right now!" Gwaine said. He approached slowly, waving a hand in front of Merlin's face. "Hello? Hey, Merls? Anyone home?"

Nothing.

Gwen pushed through the crowd, Gaius close behind her. The old physician staggered when he saw the evidence of Merlin’s magic writ plainly in front of everyone in his blazing blank eyes, and he looked around, fearfully seeing all the witnesses still gathered, still witnessing this crime against Uther’s laws that bore but one punishment, but then his gaze was drawn to the pendant on the ground, the black stone pulsing with golden life, and he paled.

"No," he breathed. "No, my poor boy."

"Gaius?" Arthur's voice was sharper than he meant, but he needed answers now. "What's wrong with him?"

Gaius moved to examine Merlin, checking his pulse, looking into his empty eyes. His hands shook.

"The stone took his soul," he said quietly. "But Merlin... Merlin isn't like other men. He's..." He paused, seeming to age years in seconds. "There are prophecies. Ancient texts. They speak of Emrys, the most powerful warlock ever to walk the earth. Magic incarnate, born to restore the balance."

Arthur opened his mouth to ask how that was even possible, but before he could speak, Leon asked, with no small amount of awe, "Wait… Merlin is Emrys?"

Gaius nodded. "Yes. And without his soul, without his humanity to temper it, he's just... power. Raw, unlimited power, with no will but to serve his purpose."

"Which is?" Arthur demanded.

Gaius looked at him with infinite sadness. "To protect you, Sire. The prophecies say Emrys exists to ensure Arthur Pendragon becomes the Once and Future King. Without his soul, that order is all that remains."

Once and Future King? Emrys? None of that made any sense, and Arthur didn’t care for an explanation. He stared at Merlin—his friend, his servant, standing without his soul, and apparently powerful enough to kill a man with a twitch of his hand—and felt his world tilt further off its axis.

"How do we get him back?"

"I don't know," Gaius admitted. "The stone still holds his soul, but with the sorcerer dead..."

Arthur snatched up the stone, the leather cord still warm from Aldric's grip. The golden light within pulsed steadily, like a heartbeat.

"Then we break it," he said.

"Sire, no!" Gaius caught his wrist. "Breaking the stone might destroy the soul within. We need knowledge, research—"

"Then get started," Arthur ordered. He looked around the courtyard, taking in the shocked faces of his people. "Leon, double the guard. Gwaine, Percival—help me get Aldric's body to—"

"Sire," Leon said quietly, "perhaps we should continue this inside. The people..."

Arthur looked around, saw servants and guards all staring at Merlin with mixtures of awe and fear. Word would spread through Camelot like wildfire—the prince's manservant was a sorcerer.

"You're right. Leon, have the body taken to the vaults—we may need to examine his possessions. Everyone else... go home." He raised his voice. "What happened here goes no further. Anyone who speaks of it outside these walls will answer to me personally."

Murmurs of agreement, though Arthur knew it was futile. By dawn, all of Camelot would know, and Arthur would be all that stood between Merlin and arrest and execution.

Arthur walked up to Merlin until they were standing face to face. He stared into those empty eyes, trying to see something of his friend in their eerie depths.

“Merlin,” he said.

Merlin didn’t respond, or acknowledge him in any way. His face was blank, peaceful in a way that was deeply wrong. Merlin's face was meant for expressions—exasperation, fondness, that particular smirk when he thought he was being clever.

"Merlin… Do you recognize me?"

No response. Arthur felt thorns of dread twisting in his chest. “Do you even know who I am?”

Merlin focused his gaze on Arthur for the first time. "You are Arthur Pendragon. Crown Prince. King Regent. The Once and Future King."

Again, that nonsensical title, but he didn’t care. At least Merlin was talking to him. "Do you know who you are?"

A pause. "Emrys."

"No.” Arthur resisted the urge to reach out and try to shake some sense into him. “Your name is Merlin," he said firmly. "You're my—" He stopped, unsure how to finish. Servant seemed insufficient. Friend felt too small. "You're Merlin."

No response. Those empty eyes stared through him.

“Gaius.” Arthur turned to the old healer, who was staring at Merlin with a soft, sad horror. “Do you have anything that can fix this?”

“I will do everything in my power to restore Merlin’s soul to him, Sire,” Gaius said gravely, and with enough conviction that Arthur felt a small spark of hope. “I will start with the books and scrolls in my chambers. I have encountered records of the Stone of Souls before, and, while I do not recall reading of any way to undo this enchantment, it will at least be a place to start.”

"Then I will help you,” Arthur said. “Merlin, follow me." And, to his relief, Merlin obeyed.

They made a strange procession through the castle—Arthur leading, Merlin following with measured steps, Gaius hurrying behind. Servants scattered from their path, eyes wide.

Once safely in the physician’s tower, Arthur closed the door firmly. Merlin walked to the middle of the room and just stopped and stood motionlessly, while Gaius began going through the books on his shelves.

Arthur did not like the way Merlin was absolutely motionless, like a statue. "Sit," he said to Merlin, gesturing to a chair.

“I do not need to sit,” Merlin said blankly.

“Ugh,” Arthur groaned, as apparently Merlin was as disobedient without his soul as with it. “Just… do as I say, will you? You are my manservant, after all.”

“I am your protector,” Merlin corrected. “Sitting provides no benefit to my ability to protect you.”

“It will bloody well protect my peace of mind,” Arthur snapped, as he genuinely wondered if this was what it felt like to go mad.

Merlin looked at him with those terrible, empty eyes for a long moment. Then he walked over to the chair and sat.

Arthur heaved a sigh, and ran his hands through his hair. "Do you need food or water?"

"No."

"Do you need anything?"

"No."

“What—” He swallowed. “What happened to you?”

“My soul was removed and trapped by the Stone of Souls,” Merlin said, as calm and emotionless as if he was commenting on the weather.

“You said your name is Emrys.”

“Yes.”

“So what—how--” Arthur gestured to him, struggling to articulate his question.

Merlin blinked. “I am what remains. I am Magic. I am Emrys.”

Arthur took a deep breath. “And Merlin?”

Merlin pointed to the pendant, its leather cord still clutched in Arthur’s white-knuckled fist. He looked down at it, at the golden light trapped within the black stone.

“You mean,” Arthur said hoarsely, “that there is nothing left of Merlin in you, somewhere deep down? That everything he ever is and was, is in this?”

“You are correct that there is nothing left of Merlin in me,” Merlin said. “But we are meant to be the same, I in him, and him in me. We have been sundered in a way that was never meant to be.”

Arthur swallowed. “If you’re the magic, do you know how to… to break the enchantment on the stone and free your soul?”

“No. It is ancient, dark magic, and the enchantment is tied to many anchors that cannot be undone without proper ritual.”

“Do you know the proper ritual?” Arthur asked.

“No.”

“Do you know who does know the proper ritual?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“No.”

Yes. This was definitely what going mad felt like. “If you’re magic; if you’re raw, unlimited power like Gaius said,” he said, gesturing to the physician who had stopped rummaging through his shelves to watch this exchange. “Isn’t this something you should know?”

Merlin gazed at him with expressionless, golden eyes. “I am confined to this flesh, and thus subject to many of its limitations. It is within my power to release myself from this body, but then I would return to the earth, sea and sky, and would be unable to continue as your protector. This body would die, and my soul would remained trapped in the stone.”

The words hit Arthur like a blow. Angrily, and without another word to the magical husk that wore his friend’s face, he hung the pendant around his neck so that the stone rested next to his heart. He turned to Gaius, who was already setting books out on one of the tables.

"Tell me everything," Arthur demanded. "About Merlin, about this Emrys. About his magic. Everything you've kept from me."

Gaius sank into a chair, suddenly looking every one of his many years. "I've known since he first arrived in Camelot. The power in him... it was like nothing I'd ever seen. He could move objects with his mind before he could walk, could speak to the earth itself as a child."

Arthur scoffed. “Oh, is that all.” He turned and strode toward the window before turning back quickly. "And you never thought to mention this," he exclaimed.

"Would you have listened, Sire? Or would you have followed your father's laws?" Gaius's eyes were steady, challenging. "Merlin could have left at any time, and yet he stayed in Camelot for one reason—to protect you. Everything he's done, every lie he's told, has been in service of that destiny."

"Destiny," Arthur spat the word. "I don't believe in destiny."

"Then believe in choice," Gaius said quietly. "Because Merlin chose you, every day. He could have been a king in his own right, could have ruled through power and fear. Instead, he chose to be your servant, to hide his gifts, to suffer in silence so that you might one day bring about a kingdom where magic and non-magic folk could live in peace."

Arthur looked at Merlin, sitting perfectly still in the chair. "And now?"

"Now he's been reduced to his base purpose. Without his soul, his humanity, he's simply the instrument of prophecy. He'll protect you, serve your destiny—but the man who chose to do those things is trapped in that stone."

Arthur’s hand reached up to the pendant and pressed the stone against his breastbone, golden light streaming from between his fingers.  Was Merlin aware inside the stone, alone and afraid? The thought was unbearable.

"How do we free him?"

Gaius opened a large, leather-bound tome, its pages yellow with age, and shuffled carefully through the pages. "The Stone of Souls is ancient magic, predating even the Old Religion. Legend says it was created by those who feared love, who saw it as weakness.” He turned pages carefully, then stopped on a page where Arthur could see a drawing of the pendant. Gaius scanned the page, and said, "There are stories of those who tried to break such stones. Most ended with both souls destroyed—the trapped and the trapper."

Arthur frowned. "There has to be a way--"

A knock at the door interrupted him. Arthur called out an irritated "Enter."

Leon stepped inside, his expression grave. "Sire, forgive the intrusion,” he said, glancing at Merlin who sat unmoving, staring off blankly at nothing. “There's something you need to know."

"What now?"

"The attacking sorcerer—Aldric. We searched his belongings as you ordered. We found letters." Leon held out a sheaf of parchment. "He told the truth, he was hired, Sire. Someone paid him to attack Camelot, to test you."

Arthur took the letters, checking them quickly. No names, no identifying marks, but the intent was clear—humiliate the young regent, prove him weak, sow discord in Camelot.

"Double the patrols," he ordered. "And I want to know who is behind this.” He met Leon’s gaze and knew that his First Knight’s thoughts echoed his own on who was the most likely culprit: Morgana.

It had been over three months since she had attacked Camelot and overthrown the citadel with Morgause and her immortal army. And while Morgause had sustained a possibly fatal injury, it was still long enough for Morgana to regroup and plan another attack. Perhaps even a plan where she hired sorcerers to attack with devastating magical artifacts that stole souls.

But rather than voicing their fears, Leon simply bowed and said, “Yes, Sire,” before walking out and closing the door behind him.

Arthur turned to Gaius and, with an enthusiasm he did not feel, clapped his hands and said, “All right, where were we? Research! We’d best get to it. Where would you like me to start?”

Gaius handed him an ancient, heavy tome from the increasing pile, and he sighed.

They read and researched well into the small hours of the morning, until Arthur’s eyes burned and the words on the pages began to blur, and the next thing he knew, he was woken by the sound of a chair scraping across the floor. He jerked upright, noticing with some chagrin that he had fallen asleep at the table. Someone had draped a blanket over his shoulders, and a quick scan of the room showed Gaius asleep in his cot. Thin, grey morning light seeped through the windows. He turned and saw that the noise that woke him was Merlin standing from his chair.

"Merlin?"

Merlin’s head tilted to the side as if listening to something only he could hear. "There’s danger approaching," he said in that hollow voice. "There’s magic coming from the north. More than one source. They mean harm."

Arthur's blood ran cold, and he stood, pushing himself away from the table, the blanket falling from his shoulders. "Can you tell how many?"

"Seven. They will be arriving within the hour."

"Seven sorcerers?"

"Yes."

Arthur looked upward, as if accusing the heavens. Was it only yesterday morning that his biggest worry had been enduring the council? Since then, he had discovered that Merlin was a sorcerer, complicating his already complicated feelings for the man, then he lost Merlin to a magical artifact wielded by an idiot sorcerer who didn’t even know what he was doing, and now his troubles had multiplied sevenfold.

Gathering himself, strode to the door, opened it, and called for the guards. A guard raced up the stone steps of the physician’s tower. “Sire?”

“Fetch Sir Leon,” Arthur ordered. “Sound the warning bells. Inform the captain of the guard that I want every guard armed and ready for an attack. Evacuate the lower town to the citadel. If you see Sir Leon, send him to me."

"Yes, Sire!" The guard quickly ran to obey.

“Sire, what is happening?” Arthur turned to see Gaius awake and easing himself out of his cot as quickly as his old bones would allow.

Arthur nodded his head at Merlin, who stood impassively. “He said danger is on the way in the form of seven sorcerers with evil intent.

Gaius paled. “Oh dear,” he said. “An attack so soon after the first bodes ill.”

The sound of the warning bells began to clang loudly, and Arthur could hear shouts of alarm from outside. “I need to get Sir Leon and muster the knights,” he said. He looked at Merlin, who remained standing, unaffected, and turned to Gaius, frowning. "Can he defend himself? Like this?"

"He's more powerful now than ever," Gaius said quietly. "Without his humanity holding him back, without fear or doubt...”

They both turned as Merlin suddenly moved and walked toward Arthur. “I will fight and destroy the enemies of Arthur Pendragon and Camelot,” he said without inflection, and something about that made Arthur’s heart clench.

“You are not a weapon,” he said firmly. “And I will not use you like one.”

“It is what I am for.”

“No!” Arthur turned and grasped Merlin by his shoulders. He could barely stand to look into those empty eyes, but he refused to let anything happen to Merlin, even if it was just his physical form. “No, you will stay here, with Gaius, until it is safe, do you understand?”

“I cannot effectively protect you if I stay here,” Merlin said. “I will come with you.”

“No! You utter—” Arthur tightened his fingers around Merlin’s shoulders and shook him lightly. “Listen, you… you cabbagehead, if you serve me, you have to do what I say, and I order you to stay here during the battle!”

Merlin didn’t even blink. “I will always serve your best interests,” he said. “Staying here during a battle where you could be harmed or killed is not in your best interests.”

Arthur released Merlin’s shoulders abruptly, leaving him swaying slightly before he once again stilled, and growled in frustration. He glared at Gaius, who was watching the exchange with wide eyes. “He might not be Merlin,” Arthur snapped, “but he is just as disobedient and infuriating!”

Gaius’s gaze darted between Arthur and Merlin. “To be fair, Sire,” he said carefully, “Merlin has always protected you, usually from the shadows. If he goes to battle with you now, the only difference will be that he will be out in the open. And, as he is now, I have little doubt of his ability to protect you, and Camelot.”

 “But Gaius, using him like this, like a weapon—"

"I know," Gaius said gently. “You don’t know how many times I wished for him to be safe and free of this burden. But he is the only genuine protection against magical threats. He always has been. You need him. Camelot needs him."

Arthur rubbed his hands over his face, then turned to Merlin. “Are you still capable of helping me into my armor?“

“Yes.”

“Fine. With me, then. Gaius?”

“I will prepare for casualties, Sire.”

Arthur nodded grimly and strode out the door, Merlin keeping pace behind him.

The castle was abuzz with activity as the warning bells continued to ring out. No one attempted to stop Arthur and ask for an explanation, though many stopped to stare at Merlin and his glowing, golden eyes. Knights ran to their posts, servants secured valuables, children were hustled to safety.

When they reached his chambers and Arthur closed the door behind them, he moved to his armor stand. Merlin moved without being commanded and began strapping on pieces with practiced efficiency, helping with buckles and straps, anticipating needs with eerie precision.

Arthur contemplated his soulless manservant as he continued to help him with his armor. “You know,” he said, “I can lock you in here to keep you safe.”

Merlin didn’t even pause in his work. “I cannot be contained by locked doors,” he said, securing Arthur’s pauldron in place.

Arthur nodded, thin-lipped. “Of course not,” he said through gritted teeth. “And that actually explains a lot.”

When his armor was in place and secure, Merlin handed Arthur his sword. Arthur took it, sheathed it in its scabbard, and sighed heavily. "When this is over," he promised, "we'll find a way to bring you back. I swear it."

Merlin stared at him, hollow-eyed, and didn’t respond.

As the warning bells continued to toll across Camelot. Arthur strode through the corridors, Merlin at his heels. Leon met him in the main entry and fell into step beside him.

In the courtyard, his knights were assembled. Gwaine's usual levity was absent, his face grim. Percival stood like a mountain, unmovable. Elyan was checking the edge of his blade while Lancelot spoke quietly with the men.

"Seven sorcerers approach," Arthur announced. "We don't know their purpose, but given recent events, we must assume hostile intent."

His knights glanced at each other, uneasily.

"And why is he here?" Gwaine asked, jerking his head toward Merlin.

"Apparently he fights with us," Arthur said sardonically. "Explicitly against my will. I can explain more later, though I will happily give ten gold pieces to anyone who can convince him to stay inside during the battle."

The knights leaned forward as one to look at Merlin. He looked back at them, standing more motionless than humanly possible.

No one moved.

"Right then!" Arthur continued. "Leon, take archers to the battlements. Gwaine, Percival—you're with me at the main gate. Lancelot, Elyan—"

"Movement on the north road!" a guard called from the walls.

Arthur ran up the steps to the battlements, his knights behind him. In the distance, he could see them—seven figures in dark robes, walking unhurriedly toward Camelot. The air around them shimmered with power, and behind them in the air, an unkindness of ravens flew in haphazard patterns.

“Well,” said Gwaine, looking at the ravens, “that explains why we are being attacked again so soon. I’d bet even odds that those birdies are spying for whoever is behind all this.”

“You are correct,” Merlin said. “The ravens are being used as vessels for scrying.”

Arthur frowned, remembering the ravens that watched on, witnessing as Merlin’s soul was stolen from him, and then Emrys’ ruthless retaliation.

"Confident bastards," Elyan muttered.

"Perhaps they think us weakened?” Lancelot asked.

"Are we?" Percival asked quietly.

Arthur glanced at Merlin, who stood perfectly still beside him, those empty eyes fixed on the approaching threat.

"Let's find out.” Taking a deep breath, he said, “Merlin, can you stop them from here?"

"No. The distance is too great for precise targeting. Collateral damage to the surrounding forest is unacceptable."

And Arthur felt the tight knot of fear and anxiety coiled in his gut loosen just the slightest. Even soulless, he wouldn't harm the innocent. Some part of Merlin remained, buried deep.

"Then we meet them at the gate," Arthur decided. "If they want Camelot, they'll have to go through us."

They descended to the courtyard, taking position before the main gates. Arthur drew his sword, the weight familiar in his hand. Around him, his knights formed up, shields raised, faces set with determination.

The seven sorcerers stopped just beyond arrow range. One stepped forward, lowering his hood to reveal a scarred face and cold eyes.

"Arthur Pendragon," he called out. "We've come for the sorcerer Emrys. Surrender him, and Camelot need not burn today."

Wait, they had come for Merlin?

"Any sorcerer under my protection stays under my protection," Arthur replied. "Turn back now, and you can leave with your lives."

The scarred sorcerer laughed. "You would die for a servant? For a creature of magic?"

"I would die for any of my people."

"How noble. How foolish." The sorcerer raised his hand. "Take them."

The attack came like a thunderstorm. Lightning split the sky, fireballs rained down, the very earth cracked beneath their feet. Arthur raised his shield, felt the impact of magical force nearly drive him to his knees.

Then Merlin moved.

He stepped forward, raised both hands, and the world went silent. Every spell, every attack, simply... stopped. Frozen in midair like insects in amber.

"I have evaluated the threat," Merlin said calmly. And then he retaliated.

He pushed, and the frozen spells reversed, hurtling back toward their casters. The sorcerers scrambled to defend, throwing up shields, diving aside. Two weren't fast enough—they fell, their own lightning turning against them.

"Impossible," the scarred leader breathed.

Merlin tilted his head. "You are incorrect." He gestured, and the leader was yanked forward, held suspended by invisible force. "State your purpose."

The sorcerer struggled, but couldn't break free. "We came for you, Emrys. The prophecies speak of your power. With you, we could remake the world, bring magic back to its rightful place."

"Magic's place is in service to the Once and Future King," Merlin replied tonelessly. "Your goals are incompatible with what I was made to do."

"You're enslaved! Can't you see? They've bound you, reduced you to a pet!"

"I am not bound. I am focused." Merlin's eyes flashed gold. "You will leave. Now."

"Never! We came for Emrys, and we'll have him!" The sorcerer spoke a word of power, and his fellows attacked again.

This time, Merlin didn't hold back.

The air itself seemed to bend around him. One attacker's flames turned to ice mid-flight, shattering harmlessly. Another found the ground beneath him had become quicksand. A third simply... stopped, frozen in place by invisible bonds.

It wasn't a battle. It was a demonstration.

In seconds, five sorcerers lay unconscious or restrained. Only the leader and one other remained standing, and they were backing away, terror replacing arrogance.

"You're not Emrys," the leader whispered. "Emrys would never... You're something else. Something wrong."

"I am what I need to be," Merlin replied. He raised his hand again.

"Merlin, stop," Arthur commanded, fearful that he would be ignored if Emrys didn’t consider this in his best interests.

Merlin paused, hand still raised.

Without letting the immense relief he felt show, Arthur stepped forward, addressing the sorcerers. "You've seen what he can do. What I could order him to do. Leave now. Tell others what happened here. Any who threaten Camelot will face the same."

The leader stared at him. "You command Emrys? You dare?"

"I don't command him," Arthur said, though the words tasted like ash. "But the fool who attacked earlier today removed and trapped his soul.”

The leader’s gaze flicked to Arthur’s chest where a golden light strong enough to penetrate chainmail and plate shown through, and his face turned grey.

Arthur smiled grimly. “That’s right,” he said, “this is your doing, and until his soul is returned, I'm all that stands between him and the world. Would you rather face him with my conscience guiding him, or without?"

The sorcerer paled further. He grabbed his remaining companion, and they vanished in a swirl of smoke, leaving their unconscious fellows behind.

The ravens immediately dispersed.

"Secure the prisoners," Arthur ordered his knights. "Gently—they're defeated."

As his men moved to comply, Arthur turned to Merlin. "Are there other threats?"

"I’m checking." A pause. "No."

"Good. Then..." Arthur hesitated. What did one do with a soulless all-powerful sorcerer? "Return to my chambers. Wait for me there."

Merlin turned and walked away without a word. Arthur watched him go, his chest tight with something that might have been grief.

"That was..." Gwaine started, then stopped, apparently at a loss for words.

"Terrifying," Elyan supplied.

"Efficient," Leon corrected, though he looked shaken.

"Not Merlin," Lancelot said quietly, and that summed it up perfectly.

Arthur sheathed his sword, suddenly exhausted. "Have the prisoners taken to the cells—the comfortable ones. I want them treated well. Maybe one of them knows something about the stone."

He started to turn away, then paused. "And thank you. All of you. For standing with him. With us."

"Always," Gwaine said, and the others nodded agreement.

Arthur made his way back to his chambers slowly, dreading what he'd find. Merlin was exactly where he'd expected—standing in the center of the room, motionless, but he immediately turned and helped Arthur divest himself of his armor without being asked.

With is armor gone, Arthur reached up and carefully removed the pendant with the Stone of Souls from around his neck and set it gently on the table. Merlin’s soul shone like a small sun within the black stone.

"Sit down," Arthur said tiredly, gesturing to a chair by the fire. “You must be cold."

"The temperature is acceptable," Merlin replied but sat anyway. Arthur wondered if it was done solely to protect his peace of mind.

Arthur sank into the opposite chair, staring at his friend's empty face in the firelight. Just yesterday, he'd discovered Merlin had magic. Had been angry about the deception, hurt by the lies. Now he'd give anything to have that Merlin back, lies and all.

"Do you remember anything?" he asked. "About before? About... us?"

Silence. Then, "I do not understand the question.”

Arthur's throat burned. "Do you remember being my friend?"

"I have no memories prior to my current state. I possess the knowledge necessary to protect you. Personal experiences are... absent."

"But you knew about the approaching sorcerers. You know how to use your magic."

"I am magic. But I have no memory of time before my soul was removed. I know Arthur Pendragon requires protection. I do not remember why."

Arthur closed his eyes. Somewhere in that stone, Merlin's soul held all those memories—of shared adventures, quiet evenings, inside jokes, and unspoken truths. Everything that made him Merlin rather than just Emrys.

"I'll get you back," he promised. "Whatever it takes."

Merlin didn't respond. The fire crackled between them, casting dancing shadows on empty walls.

Outside, night deepened over Camelot. In the cells below, five sorcerers nursed their wounds and wondered what they'd stumbled into. In his chambers, Gaius pored over ancient texts, searching for hope. In the tavern, Gwaine bought rounds and didn't make jokes, while Percival sat silent and Elyan sharpened a blade that didn't need it. In Gwen’s house, Lancelot sat next to her and held her as she wept into his shoulder.

And in the prince's chambers, two figures sat by the fire—one wrestling with newfound knowledge and feelings he couldn't name, the other empty of everything that had once made him human.

The stone pulsed on the table between them, golden light steady as a heartbeat, holding a soul captive.

Holding Merlin captive.

"I need you," he whispered to the hollow shell wearing Merlin's face. "Not Emrys. Not magic. You. The idiot who can't polish armor properly and makes terrible jokes and always knows when I need someone to tell me I'm being a prat."

Golden eyes flickered in the firelight, but remained empty.

Arthur settled in for a long night of watching, of guarding what remained of his dearest friend, of planning how to achieve the impossible.

He would get Merlin back.

He had to.

-------------

Feedback and constructive criticism welcome and appreciated! :D

[twistedteatime]

Howling Witch Teaser 1

A/N: I'm at 82k and not done yet, but I feel like sharing a smidge. So I thought I'd give a teaser just over the first 1% of what I have so far. Keep in mind it's not really edited and subject to revision. (Also: if you notice a word that doesn't fit, like a he where a the should be or something like that: It's my keyboard. It's not the best. Let me know if you find any and I'll fix it.)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x OFC (3rd person POV)

Word Count: 861

Warnings: Talk of canon violent events? Nothing else that I can really think of. Not yet at least.

Masterlist (You'll find the main info post link there)

Cedar. No, not quite. The conifers of the Timber were far too tall to be cedar, but their scent was closer to it than the massive redwoods they resembled. At least at the bottom. Their tufts at the top more closely resembled the dense firs of what had once been home.

They cast a comfortable shade over the forest floor covered in a thick carpet of moss and fern. Their limbs and branches blocked out the sun enough she didn’t need the sunglasses perched on top of her head pulled down over her eyes, but not so much that the ferns couldn’t grow. Just enough.

Birds nested and flittered about in the branches overhead. Their songs distant due to the height they resided in. Deer meandered through the ferns, looking at her warily as they chewed vegetation. They knew she was a predator, but they also knew she wasn’t hunting them.

She wasn’t there for that.

She was wasn’t there to hunt or to chase. She never was with this patch of Timber. Others, yes, but this one…no. This one was special.

The atmosphere weighed differently. It had a comfortable heaviness to it. The same kind an understanding mother’s hug had when it came close to crushing with care, warmth, and safety. Knowing it was needed.

It made the memories rattle against their bars in her mind. She was tempted to let them out. Yet the crunching of footsteps far too heavy to be a deer and the scent of another predator approaching stopped her.

“What is it Tanis?” she asked, looking over her shoulder at the tall, well-built, and muscular male that stood before her.

He was calm yet tense. At the ready. Bright amber eyes serious instead of playful as was their usual.

“We just got word. They’re bringing him out.”

“Where?”

“The States. DC.”

“When?”

“Twenty-four hours.”

“Where’s Ruun?” she asked, locking the cages tighter.

“He’s in a conference call with Leadership. Your presence is requested. They’re expecting potential problems.” He answered and continued, “Maggie says she’s got something in The Eye about Insight, too. This could be it.”

“Rogers?”

“He’s the expected problem.”

She nodded and turned to start walking out, “Tell Ruun to triple my fees then get packed. Full. Tac, two suits, whole kit.”

“Alright. Other orders?” he asked and she nodded.

“I may regret it but tell Maggie to do the same. Ruun will stay in my stead.” She added and he nodded with a shrug of his brows.

“I really hope you don’t mean to put me at the mercy of Maggie flying something.” He said and she looked at him.

“I don’t mean to, but we’ll need her.”

“Anyone else?”

“Light detail, just you two with me. Heavier detail in reserve. We’ll need it for the aftermath…however it goes.” She answered and he nodded, listening as she detailed what to expect as they left the calm comfort of the Timber, lowering her sunglasses onto her face to block out the stinging of the sun.

It was time for her to hunt.

************

“I know who killed Fury.”

That one sentence had stopped Steve long enough to listen. The Winter Soldier. An assassin with over two dozen credited hits over the past 50 years. A ghost story, yet what she said next made something in him squirm.

More than he already was.

“If there’s one thing I’ve learned from trying to track him down…it’s that whenever he appears…she follows soon after.” Natasha said and Steve looked at her, eyes narrowed in confusion.

“She?”

“Like I said…he’s a ghost story, but her…she’s something different. Something the intelligence community doesn’t want to acknowledge. Him? Most don’t believe he exists. Her? They don’t want to.” Natasha continued, glancing out the door before continued, “They call her The Howling Witch. She’s not human, Steve…not anymore. Rumors are that she used to be but she isn’t now. Some say she’s been active longer than he has, that her focus was on wiping out entire facilities but that it all changed around the same time he started cropping up. Some intelligence exists about her…but when I found it…it was wiped before I could even get through most of it.”

“That sounds like she’s important.” Steve said and Natasha nodded, “Does she show up to finish what he starts or to stop it?”

“Bit of both from what I saw…but if you ask me…I think she’s hunting him.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. All I got to see on those files was her codename, hit count, a huge block of black in the abilities and powers section, and a lot of fill in the blank descriptions of her encounters with him.” Natasha answered as she looked at Steve, “She’s definitely got sniper training…but as good of a shot as they say she is…she’s never shot at him to take him out. The reports always said she shot down those he was with…and they said she always shows up when he does…and she’s always gone when he is.”

“I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or not but maybe we can get some answers by finding out what The Winter Soldier wants.”

*******

Masterlist (You'll find the main info post link there)

[deepdreamnights]

Using Vidu to Make Character Turnarounds

Disclosure: I am in the Vidu Artist Program.

Having (at the very least) front and back reference greatly improves the quality of character image prompting. And very often, one finds that they were lazy and only got a couple of bits of character reference. Or they have tons of it in the wrong art style.

A character like Wally Manmoth requires some good reference to work right.

Now, it's not that hard to prompt up something that matches close enough and then modifying the stuff manually until it works, such as I did with TriceraBruce and DeinoSteve:

You can tell Steve's the bad boy because he's got a cool rip in the back of his jacket.

But for Wally, I decided to try out Vidu as a means of getting turnaround frames.

So I loaded Wally's front-view pic (above) into the image-to-video feature, and prompted with:

vintage traditional animation scene (1985) humanoid mammoth/furry elephant wearing a red hawaiian shirt and blue shorts, by filmation and sunbow productions, 90s colors, friendly on green background, streamlined black line art with cel shaded vintage cartoon color, official media, character design fullbody shot on green background. The mammoth-anthro starts facing the camera, turning around to face away from the viewer, providing a view of his back.

I gave it two shots at the 720x quality setting (12 points per, total of 24), and got:

Huh. Weird it happened twice, etc.

This demonstrates both that the tech is viable for this use, and the reason you'd want to have that multi-view reference. The robot clearly assumes that a luau shirt would have a large print on the back, whereas wally's is a more basic print. That's ultra easy to fix, though.

I started by exporting the last frame of each (or close to it, picking the one that looks cleanest)

While its image editing features and often touch-and-go, one thing the Midjourney edit feature has going for it is it's utility as an upscaler. You load the image in, make your tweaks (just a little bit of background if you're just upscaling) and then upscale and at the very least you have 2048x2048 worth of resolution.

I used the midjourney edit process, that got those two images to the following state, as a test.

The results are good, but getting the large trees to erase-and-replace out took several attempts, and just doing it in photoshop then using the editor to upscale would have been faster.

This is why we do tests.

I went with the slightly-at-an-angle one for the main reference sheet. I'll be keeping the straight-on-back-shot in case it winds up being useful for specific scenes down the line.

In photoshop, I touched up the shirt print, made sure the colors where consistent, and simplified the hair coloration to something more period-plausible.

No more giant trees on the back! On the other hand, I think the feet sprouting toes on the heel is going to be something I'll be fixing frame-by-frame until there's another revision.

Human characters will induce these issues less often. I just stick with my genre of choice.

Midjourney was not cooperating with TyrannoMax (it really doesn't like giving him the proportions I like, preferring to make him a weird big-head salamander), so I went the same direction, resulting in this stage 1 front/back:

Only Midjourney refused to work with it, at all. Declaring everything that came out of it too lewd for its internal censor. Apparently, this hunky relative of cheesasaurus rex is too sexy for general consumption. Nevermind that it's a cartoon lizard in a shade tangello orange.

The workaround is too dumb for words.

Slam the hue slider until it's off anything that could be perceived as a human skintone.

Then make the modifications. Here I had to rework the leg several times, and do a lot of tweaking to remove-overinking. Then I popped it back out, droped it back into lineart, re-colored it, and and composited it back together:

And voila, a front and back for Max. I shortened his tail, as the longer tails have been causing problems with confusing the image prompting systems. The armor skirt has scallops to accommodate the tail, which looked better more consistently than the flaps folding around the tail.

The results are, thus far, encouraging.

Of course, if the back of your character has any unexpected details, you're going to have to add those in after the fact or include them in the prompting, and you're going to be making a lot of edits regardless (as you should).

Oh, and Max has a sword now.

A blade of amber crystal with a fossilized femur grip and a faceted dino-eye that should be far enough away from the Eye of Thundera for safety. A roleplay-toy friendly trademark weapon, usually a sword, was a must-have for 80s action-adventure lines despite the fact that you'd never see it used on anything that wasn't a robot, living statue, or skeleton.

Thus the sword's gimmick is it cleaves through non-living matter with ease but anything BS&P doesn't want subjected to a stabbin's is encased in amber crystal: locked in place if partially encased, put into suspended animation if fully encased. A nice, nonlethal use for a magic sword.

It's proportioned like a gladius, but is generally interpreted as larger, approaching a broadsword, in keeping with the generally ridiculous blade sizes of kidvid fantasy. They're just more fun when they're stupidly huge.

Is "Sword of Eons" too on the nose?

[o0corruptedghoul0o]

I too recently got baldurs gate 3!!! Your characters are very pretty! I’ve only messed with the mod manager thing, haven’t tried installing mods from other sources. Have any recommendations?

hey @starrystarstars, thank you!

hmm let's see... I got most of my mods from nexus and patreon, here's a list from my favourite stuff (in no particular order, better check all posts for the requirements, compatibility and load order)

btw I don't use Vortex, only the bg3 mod manager

Skintones

Astralities' Skintone Expansion

Astralities' Fantasy Skintone Expansion

Astralities' Sublime Skintones

Astralities' Wondrous Skintones

Head Presets

Dark Urges

Resting Gith Face

Linkon's Finest

Ellian's heads

Alexa

Elgoth

Everdawn

Hans

Mythral

Naelyn

lokelani's Durge - Seth

lokelani's lovely lads

lokelani's lovely lads - Revamped

Makeup, Scars & Tattoos

Tattoo collection by Mari

Centipede Tattoo

Gradient Tattoo

Cyber Tattoo

Ruki's Neck Makeup

Cosmetic pack by Mari

Mari's scars

Mari's makeup

Eyes

Astralities' Glow Eyes

Demon Eyes

Feywild Eyes

Understated

Hairstyles + Colors

Astralities' Hair Color Collection

Astralities' Hair Color Overhaul

Astralities' Hair Color Supplement

Bububull's hair pack 01

Bububull's hair pack 02

Hijimare hairs

Noctis Hair

Hair Pack by Ren

Dissidia Hair

Tav's Hair Salon

Vessnelle's Hair Collection

Yves Hair Gallery

Softer Hair (100% recommend. It still works, just put it at the bottom in bg3mm)

Voices

Meadow (Tav Voice) (not 100% done, but still a nice addon for the cute and shy Tav types)

Horns & Misc.

Astralities Fluffy Ears

Bunny Ears & Tail, Fox Ears, Cat Tails (there are several files on their Patreon, I can't remember anymore which one I installed sry)

Antlers

Horns of Faerun

Horns of Plenty

Some New Horns

Glitzy Horns

Male Body 1 for Tav

Appearance Edit Enhanced

Clothes & Accessories

Ghouls Custom Piercings

Piercing Edits

Ellian's trinkets + Camp Ver.

Lip Chains

Serpentine Piercing Edits

Trips' Accessory Collection

Misc mods by Toarie

Clothes by Ren (I downloaded almost everything, it would take too long to list all of it lol)

Basket Full of Equipment

PK Clothes and Armours

Bladesong Garment

Dress Of Devotion

Lilith's Armors

Cherrshen's Corset Outfit

FANG's Dress

Clothes by Opheliiia

Clothes by Hijimare

Astarion's Gear

ReShade Presets & FreeCam Mod

Shades of Faerun

Otis' Camera Tools

There are many more amazing mods but my brain feels fried. I didn't include some overrides, fixes and improvements, because I think ya'll stumble over those sooner or later anyway.

Hope that was helpful, happy modding!

[goatskickin]

hi goat! do you have any tips/ideas on making 4t2 items look less plasticky? would new textures work or is it maybe something with the shading? or maybe it's the rounded edges on everything....

hi anon! I know you sent this a while ago. Thanks for waiting. I do indeed sometimes retexture TS4 converted objects.

I am no expert! But! Here's what I usually do:

For this tutorial, I will be using @janika31's 4t2 conversion of the Siten-Ze Reclaimed Wood Sofa.

It has the rounded edges you speak of (typical of TS4 objects) and a texture that could be considered 'plasticky' too.

What you will need to do first is open SimPE. We need to be able to look at this mesh nice and close!

When the mesh is opened in SimPE, go to the 1. Geometric Data Container and click on it 2. find the main object in the Models list (sofa) and make sure it's checked 3. Export the object.

You'll need to load said object into a 3D Modeling program in order to look at it.

I like UVMapper, because it's free (well the free version is anyway lol) and it's very easy to use.

While you're in SimPE, extract a texture or two from the original object. You will need them. Light or white recolors will be useful.

With the object loaded into UVMapper, this is what it looks like!

UV map of the object on the left, object (with no texture) on the right.

Add the texture in.

UVMapper is going to be our main working area. Other than an image editing program like Photoshop or Gimp. You'll need that too.

Let's get a good look at this base texture - we can see it has the wood parts of the couch, the main couch texture and some pillows.

If you find UV maps helpful (I do!) you can extract one from your 3D program.

With UVMapper, I needed to make sure that I've specified the size of the image so the UV map will match. This texture is 512 x 1024.

Now for the fun part! You should be able to copy in the base texture as a new layer, and then delete everything that is not the wood part on the UV map.

I've actually missed the foot of the couch here, but I will fix it.

If you're not already working with a white texture, make one. I like to use @pooklet's Primer and Time Bomb for this.

This white texture is very important as it will serve as the shadow and highlight that the new wood texture will be sandwiched in between.

With the new white texture created, when loaded into UVMapper and displayed on our couch, it looks like this. ^

This rounded edge here, this is a problem area!

With retexturing clay hairs, we want a rounded or 'bumped out' part of the mesh to be highlighted, to give the illusion of shine on hair.

But in objects, especially wood ones that we'd prefer to not look like plastic, we want the opposite effect; this shine should be reduced.

This is pretty easy to remedy in your image editor! But first:

Remember how I talked about how the white base texture was going to sandwich the wood texture? Here's what that means (layers):

1 The white base texture, Normal, 100% opacity

2 Our wood texture. This is something lifted from a Maxis endtable?

3 The white base texture, Multiply, 100% opacity

4 The white base texture, Overlay, 22% opacity

5 The white base texture, Soft Light, 22% opacity*

Optional layers: 1) another white base texture, Multiply, 100% opacity if this is a dark recolor, as it will add more depth 2) the base texture, but in an orange or yellowy color Multiply, 100% opacity (when this is added, it will help when a warm recolor looks too ashy)

*these percentages of how opaque the layer is are arbitrary. They work for me, do what works for you.

Okay! Back to the 'problem area'

This highlight here ^ on the rounded arm of the couch; if you don't want it, here is what I would do:

Locate where that highlight is in the texture. Found it!

Here's how to REDUCE that shine:

1 Locate your base white wood texture layer, Normal opacity.

Notice how the whiter part of this texture, when layered as I've described (Multiply 100%, Overlay 22%, Soft Light 22%) translates as shiny when it's laid on an object.

The way to make that appear less shiny is to make it less white. Less white means less of that shine that can read as artificial aka plasticky. When you make that more grey than white, more of the background wood can show through the semi-transparent layers.

2 Take that noticeably white part of the base texture and make it grey! Copy a chunk of the greyer texture, paste it on, blend in or erase the edges to make it look smooth. Merge the layer.

3 Change your Normal white base layer (now edited to be greyer in that one specific spot) and copy that as 3 new layers: Multiply 100%, Overlay 22%, Soft Light 22%. With the wood texture underneath all of them. Base, wood, Multiply, Overlay, Soft Light, in that order.

Before...

...after! it's subtle okay

The same kind of sandwiching method with image layers can apply to the cushions too.

There! A method for retexturing TS4 conversions that helps them not be as plastic looking. 😊

One last tip before you go off and try retexturing conversions yourself: @pforestsims's Easy Shine Removal kit for SimPe. A must if you're looking maintain that matte look.

Let me know if you have any questions!

[salesperson-competition]

ROUND 1 - VALERIE vs REIGEN ARATAKA

Will Valerie be able to sell Reigen Arataka mixtapes, dragon erotica, cool shades, forbidden artifacts, ghost costumes, and drugs in exchange for money (usually)?

OR will Reigen Arataka be able to sell Valerie peace of mind, the idea that he's a powerful psychic who can exorcise spirits, fraudulent "psychic" services (he is not a psychic) in exchange for literally just money, maybe fame too, but mostly money?

PROPAGANDA

VALERIE

"A general vendor for stat buffs and oddities, helping you score your date for the monster prom!…but what if you wanted to ask her?"

REIGEN ARATAKA

"isnt a psychic but everyone thinks he is because he's good at his job."

"i just think hes neat"

"He is so good at massages, photo editing, throwing salt, giving life advice, video gaming, rock-paper-scissors, beating people up, and generally anything that isn't exorcising spirits that he can make you believe that he's able to exorcise any "spirits" you think are plaguing you by making your life noticeably better in other ways. Unless you actually have a real ghost, then he calls in one of his 15 real psychic friends, most of whom also think he's an unbelievably powerful psychic, to exorcise your ghost for him."

"Spirits and Such started as a scam that was only having any success from Reigen's ability as a salesman and even with Mob and Serizawa being actual espers, the business side is still all Reigen"

"He is THE shady psychic salesman. He exorcises fake ghosts and sells fake spiritual remedies. He employes one (1) real psychic, and has even convinced the psychic that he's the real deal.

He has literally so much charisma, everyone believes him no matter how outlandish his claims seem

He's also extremely selfish and greedy like an average conniving businessman (yet is also extremely unselfish. He has the range!)"

"If there is a ghost, he has a child fix it for him"

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Hidden Treasure 1

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: your quiet life is interrupted by a tempestuous man. (reader is Blair from Follow You Anywhere)

Characters: Thor

Note: I just did it, okay?

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me <3

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Asking for more or putting ‘part 2?’ is not feedback.

Love you all. You are appreciated and your are worthy. Treat yourself with care. 💖

You lay out the hand-sewn coin purses along the left side of the table, completing the array of your hand-made and repurposed goods. It’s a good day to sell, sunny but not too hot, the early days of spring when people are eager to get out. At least it should be. Despite your selection, you’re not the most personable vendor along the square. 

The last detail is the hand-painted wood sign. You did it yourself; an antique frame you added a gold hue to and filled with a thin sheet of board. It isn’t much but it tells people what they’re looking at; handmade and renewed goods. 

You fold your hands and hover behind your table. You’re a one-person operation. It’s your own table, your own money, your own everything. It brings in enough for you to live. Just you and your cluttered apartment. 

The coin purses and the sleepers you sew by hand are the more popular sellers. Anything for children goes first, you notice. Everyone seems to be having them. The older crowd radiate towards the old candlesticks you polished to a shine or the glass-shaded lamps you tediously re-wired. Most try to haggle but your prices are fair enough. 

You peer around at the produce stands, the soap and candle makers, and the crocheted stuffies of your fellow sellers. You do a bit of window shopping but never follow through on your wandering eyes. You don’t need to waste the money on the pretty new things, you have lots of lovely old things. 

The traffic picks up and you busy yourself with the browsers. A woman with a stroller buys several of the infant dresses and headband, a group of older ladies peruse the aged hardcovers and pick out a few, while a couple comments on the brass-based lamp with the dangling chain. You do your best to smile through the transactions. 

The rises higher in the sky towards its apex. The steady flow keeps you busy, with some time in-between to work on fixing the binding of one of the old editions. You like to keep yourself distracted, thinking can be dangerous. With how much time you spend alone, it’s hard to avoid. 

As you lock up the cash box and tuck it back under the table, a shadow passes over, large than any other. For a moment, you think a cloud’s passing over the sun. You look up at the sky as a broad figure stands across from you.  

You don’t know how you didn’t see the man’s approach. He’s huge. Tall and wide. He doesn’t seem the type to be interested in your selection. Still, he leans in to eye the embroidered coin purses and gives a rumbling hum that sounds like distant thunder. 

He picks up one with primroses sewn into it. His thick thumb brushes the threaded design and his large hand makes the coin purse look even smaller. You tap your fingers on the table as his eyes flick up and meet yours. 

“Hi, uh, how can I help you?” You whittle out of your tight throat. It’s not often a lone man finds interest in your things. You cater to a more femme audience. 

“This is nice,” he remarks, “do you make these?” 

“Uh, yes, I do,” you give a tight-lipped smile, “I just embroider old used purses.” 

“Just? That’s splendid work,” he brings it closer to his face and looks down his nose at the little flowers and leaves, “my mother would love this... mother’s day is coming, eh?” 

“Oh, um, yes, I suppose,” you agree. “It’s five dollars. Cash only.” 

“Mm,” he traces his thumb over the metal clasp as he taps his back pocket with his other hand, “don’t think I’ve any on me. Could you hold this for me?” He offers the coin purse, “I’ll find the ATM.” 

“Sure, I could do that.” 

You take the coin purse, fingers brushing his rough skin, and you set it aside. 

“Thank you,” he smiles broadly, blue eyes twinkling as lines creases around them and across his forehead. 

He reluctantly trails away and you watch him go. His golden hair is longer than most, twisted into a low bun behind his hand as a few strands dangle freely around his face. He wears a denim jacket over dark red tee and grey jeans, along with a pair of scuffed brown boots. He stands out even in his casual attire. 

You shrug off the encounter and turn to your next customers. More baby clothes. The women chat about a baby show and you point them to the newborn sizes, telling them about the fabrics you use for each. They buy a few bibs along with the sleepers and diaper covers. 

You back up and sit in the folding chair, drinking deeply from your bottle of water. You don’t know if it’s the interactions or the sun making you dizzy. It’s close to noon. You always start to feel it around this time.  

The hours surrounded by strange faces and buzzing voices are clustering in your head and chest. Only a little longer; the market only runs until two. If the world didn’t require money to survive, you might never leave your apartment. Yet your table is the only means you have to keep walls around you. 

You sit a bit longer and get up again. You’re okay. You should’ve eaten before you left the apartment. How silly of you to forget the overnight oats you had put in the fridge just the night before. You do forget quite a few things. 

The market thrums with the late morning rush and you brace yourself for the final stretch. If you can clear off half the table, you might not have to come back next weekend. You’d be all too content to stay in your own little world, the one beyond is too loud and too bright. 

🕰️

You fold your table up and push the hook around the peg to keep it shut. You fold up the chair as well and lean both with your boxes. As the market clears out, you pull up your small two-door and load your wares into the back hatch. 

You peer over at the other vendors and their vans and trucks. Crews of half a dozen or more pack away goods and chatter just as loud as the previous crowds. It’s an isolating moment. You don’t mind going unnoticed but sometimes you feel so small. 

As you put a box in the back of the car, your keys slip off your finger. You bend and feel around the tire to retrieve them and sense a shadow above you. You clasp your hand around the keyring and stand-up suddenly, turning to face the figure behind you. There’s no one there. 

You peer around but find nothing out of the ordinary. You return to your task and pause. You don’t remember putting that box away yet... 

You shake your head. You’re just tired and forgetful. Your cardinal vices. Your mind wanders too much to rest, too much to keep order. 

You put the last box away and close the hatch. You get in the driver’s seat and turn the engine. It putters softly but it runs well enough. The old car has gotten you through the years just fine. There was a time that tiny thing was your home. 

You pull away down the lane parallel to the edge of the market square and pull out into traffic. You drive without seeing, led by habit as you stop at signs along the way, turning around corners mindlessly. You stop and wait to pull into your building’s lot and notice the large storm grey jeep behind you. It strikes you as peculiar; you enter from a back street to avoid the rush. 

You steer into the lot and the jeep continues down the street past the building. You forget it as quickly as it rolls beyond the faded brick. You find your spot, parking pass dangling from the mirror, and shut off the engine. You linger and take a breath. You're hungry and tired. 

You leave your things in the car and go upstairs. You slow as you pass your neighbour’s door. You saw her yesterday, she was in trouble about something. The police came as she hid from her boyfriend in your apartment. You didn’t even know she had one. You tried not to be nosy but she seemed real upset. 

Your cheeks tinge as you stare at the numbers on her door. She’s the only person who’s ever been inside your apartment. You don’t welcome people in, not into your home or your life. You hadn’t meant to let her in but you were so tired and confused, you couldn’t stop her. 

You cringe and continue down to your door with one last glance over your shoulder. You put the key in the slot and turn with a grind. You scurry inside and quickly lock the door, afraid she might once more emerge and follow you inside. Or that man, the big one with the beard. 

You twist the latch back into place and put your keys in the tray on the cramped shelf. The apartment is dark, the windows shrouded in black fabric, and you flip on the overhead light to guide you down the hallway. The walls are made tighter as their lined with endless shelves and tables, all filled with your collection of curiosities. 

You go to the fridge and take out the mason jar of steeped oats. You sit and eat the soft, pasty oats and the berries. You didn’t add enough cinnamon. It doesn’t matter, your stomach greedily mulches it. You put the kettle on and wait for it to steam. 

As you pace around, you hear a loud rumble. An engine. You don’t think much of it but you go to the window to peek out around the dark fabric. A woman walks a large dog past a grey jeep parked along the curb. Is it the same one you saw before? 

The question doesn’t pique your mind much. That’s the way of the world, you find. It’s a lot smaller than it seems, yet to you, it’s inexorably vast. It’s too fast, too unpredictable. You retreat as the kettle whistles. 

Your apartment is small and warm and safe. The world can’t follow you back here. Not if you don’t let it in and you won’t be doing that again. 

-🕰️

You decide, against your better instincts, to go to market. The weather is nice and it wouldn’t be so bad add a few extra bucks to your nest egg. You never know what might come up, or what you might find! Too many times you stumbled upon an antique you just couldn’t afford. 

You go through your usual ritual. You set up the table and the chair, and arrange your things in the same way around the wooden sign. As you put your boxes to the side, you hear a rattle at the bottom of one. You look into the crate and notice the silver ring. How’d that get in there? You didn’t bring any jewelry. 

You put down the box and reach inside. You take out the ring and turn it. You’ve never seen it before. There’s a strange stick symbol on the flat face. Maybe another language or a run of some type. You turn it in your hand and tuck it in your pocket. You’ll have to give a closer look at home. 

It’s early and a few stragglers trickle in, but they all walk by your table without pause. 

You sit and take out the jar of oats. You remembered today. You’d woken up with a hunger so deep, you almost ate before you left. You know better than to eat too early. Instead, you had your tea and got yourself moving. 

You stir the blueberries in and eat slowly, trying to measure your bites so you don’t feel sick after. You watch the other vendors, some still setting up, and lazily swallow down the thick oatmeal. It feels like it might rain after all, there’s a touch of damp in the air. 

You finish up and put the jar away. As you wipe your mouth with your sleeve, a woman’s voice trills and pricks your ears. Silver hair with a few wisps of gold peak out from her silk headscarf. The teal fabric matches the pattern of her blouse, tucking into a finely pressed skirt. She’s not alone, she has her arm hooked through another. 

Her companion is younger than her. His golden hair is pulled half up at the crown of his head as he towers over her lithe frame. You squint, they might be related. As they approach, you get a whiff of deja vu. 

“Yes, it was this one, mother,” the man’s voice is deep. 

“How lovely, look at all these treasures,” she slips her arm free as she approaches, “hello, dear, is this all yours?” 

“Mhmm, yes,” you stand up, “are you looking for something in particular?” 

“I think we’re just browsing,” she smiles brightly, her lips painted a gentle shade of rose. 

“A coin purse,” the man says, “with prim rose? Do you recall?” 

You look at him. Faces aren’t easy for you but his voice strikes something in your mind, and his size. You haven’t seen a lot of men that big, only the one in your neighbour’s apartment. You think you remember holding something but the customer never came back. 

“This one,” you point to the coin purse, set back in the row. 

“Yes, that was me,” he chimes, “mother,” he pulls the primrose purse to the top. She takes it and he looks back to you, “I apologise that I didn’t return, there was an emergency and I had to be off.” 

“It’s okay,” you shrug, folding your hands together. 

The woman is looking at you. There’s something in her gaze that makes you squirm. Her eyes linger just a bit longer before she aims them at the purse, admiring the embroidery as she feels it beneath her thumb. 

“Yes, I do like this one,” she says. 

“I brought cash this time,” the man booms and reaches into his pocket, “five, I believe you said.” 

“Yes,” you accept the bill from him, his skin rough as his fingertips touch yours, “thanks. Erm, did you need a bag?” 

“For this? No,” she wiggles the purse playfully and reaches for the man, her son, with other hand. She caresses his knuckles as she faces him, “you were right. Very beautiful.” 

He smiles broadly, proudly almost. It’s just a purse. You hide your discomfort as you grip your arm at your elbow. 

“Thank you,” the woman chirps back at you, sending another grin in your direction, “you might see us again.” 

She hooks her arm once more through her son’s and leads him to the next booth. You peer after them as her attention clings to the purse as she continues to feel it between her fingers. She leans into his arm as she speaks to him quietly. They seem close, it’s sweet. Your own mother had never been so affectionate. 

You look away before the scene can pluck in your chest. It doesn’t matter. You’re grown up now. That’s all behind you. 

[simtanico]

Ellie Williams (inspired by The Last of Us) for The Sims 3

Teen | Brave, Loner, Artistic, Animal Lover

Behold: my pride and joy. You could say that this character is the reason I started creating CC in earnest. Now it's been almost 10 years since I first saved a version of her in CAS and here she finally is! A whole depressing heart-wrenching sequel to her story and a live action adaptation has come out since then!

So maybe this is the opportunity to give her the fun-filled tragedy-less life she deserves?????? Perhaps???????

If you're up for it, Ellie comes with brand new CC including her hair, Fall Hoodie, Summer Top and an edit of the Diesel High Kee jeans I recently released and a soft-launched slider that is soooooooo niche that I don't think merits its own post. You can find it at my sliders page and in the download. :)

And her being a sim of mine, she has a LOT of CC requirements and uses a ton of sliders. You've been warned!!!

The rest of the details below!

The List (and credits):

Skin: @kurasoberina Primer Skin HD+ (Default) with @chinsims Extra Tones [She will probably do well with another skin, as most of her features are slider and makeup reliant.]

Eyebrows: @simmillercc Low Full Tweezed brows from the EA Female Eyebrow Overhaul (Non-Default) collection (MTS archive.org link, current Patreon link does not have the non-default version of the eyebrows, afaik)

Face Details: Gosik Subtle Freckles v2 // v3 // v5 | @pralinesims Delicate Freckles for the Nose // Delicate Freckles for the Cheek

Makeup:

NOTE: ALL MAKEUP THAT WASN'T ORIGINALLY ENABLED FOR TEENS WAS MADE SO. This tutorial covers how to do that with s3pe.

Eyeshadow: 1. Base Game Eyeshadow (w/ lavsm's default replacement alpha fixes) 2. mochi029 inner eyelid make06 [reuploaded by @hyperkaos] 3. @sk-sims Natural Eyebag 4. Ephemera E121228eyeshadow [hosted by me here]

Eyeliner: 1. @sclub-privee Eyelash 3NA 2. Eyelid 2 by me [included in download] 3. Base Game Top Eyeliner

Blush: 1. @gramssims Contour 2 and Contour 5 [Link inactive. Click here for official archive link.] 2. mochi029 plainMakeSet A 3. Tifa Shading Line Blush // Nose Mask V2 [creator inactive, shared by @simdreams] 4. ModernLover Nosemask 5. @agnelid Bloodland Blush N1 Part 3

Lips: 11 IN3S Dry Lips [re-hosted by @villesims] | 2. Lip Definition III by me [included in download]

The Riding Pants in her athletic outfit (with the striped shirt) are by @sweetdevil-sims!

*** she does require a slider that I have not been able to find reuploaded anywhere, Ottershell's Chin Tallness. Link here. ***

For any other defaults and mods installed please visit my newly-updated resources page linked on my page!

Last thing: Feel free to change her up as you need. Simplify her slider usage, use her as a base, whatever. Just, please, do not claim you made her all on your own OR make money from reposting her or subsequent sims. I've spent years making her and worked very hard to compile all this. If you've made it this far, thank you!!!!!!!!!!

Download .sim and included CC (and leave a 💖): https://simfileshare.net/download/4512068/

Please tag me in any photos you might take!

She will also eventually be hosted on simblr.cc!