If someone were to make fanart of your au but with kirby gijinka cause they don't know how to draw orbs, how would you feel about it?
I'd love it!
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Litost by Helholden, Chapter 12: No More Lies
Written for an anonymous tumblr prompt: Sauron/Galadriel set during Ar-Pharazôn’s rule of Númenor when Sauron holds the position of the High Priest of Melkor. Galadriel, captured in the middle of a war, has been imprisoned and handed over to him as a sacrifice to be made in the Temple of the High Priest, but Sauron has other plans. From Akallabêth to the founding of Gondor, unlikely allies are forged.
Fandoms: The Lord of the Rings: The Rings of Power (TV 2022), The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Warnings: Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply, F/M, Work in Progress
Relationship(s): Galadriel/Sauron, Galadriel/Halbrand
Tags: Prisoner of War, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Good and Evil, Good versus Evil, Existentialism, Existential Crisis, Existential Angst, Late Night Conversations, Implied/Referenced Human Sacrifice, Non-Consensual Voyeurism, Implied/Referenced Torture, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Nothing Happens to Galadriel, But The Tags Are There For A Reason, Acts of Kindness, Hate to Love, Love/Hate, Denial of Feelings, Possibly Unrequited Love, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, Alternate Universe - Future, Númenor, Akallabêth, Conflicted Galadriel, Trust Issues, Everyone Has Issues, Sauron Needs Therapy, Magic, Magic-Users, Sharing a Bed, Slow Burn, Heavy Angst, Political Alliances, Stolen Moments, Tenderness, Vulnerability, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think
Chapter Summary:
“You should go,” she whispered. “Tend to your people.”
The backs of his fingers returned to her forehead, brushing stray hairs off of her skin and grazing her with more soothing contact. “You are my people,” he whispered back, the words barely a breath.
“No, I’m not . . . ”
“Denial will only get you so far, Galadriel.”
She reached out for his hand in her dreary haze—one of them, either of them—catching the one laying across her forehead and coiling her fingers around his wrist, dragging it down the side of her face. She brought it close to her mouth, and kissed him there on the underside of his wrist on top of the pulse point, her lips barely brushing against his skin. Galadriel could not say why she did it. Mad at him as she was, she was also still deeply attached to him, and that part did not seem as though it was going to change. She was bound to it—as he was bound to her.
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