#Manwë x Varda

[the-red-butterfly]

Basking In Her Greatness

Manwë & Varda (Tolkien universe)

A widdle present for my good friend @cilil who is a firm believer in huge, space momma, Varda. And big on pushing the dom!Varda supremacy hehe. Live your dreams gurl 😌 let this art lead you into more filthy sin (and cutenss too, lets not forget).

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Open for Commissions

[aureentuluva70]

Earendil/Elwing and Varda/Manwë parallels/associations:

Earendil/Varda are both associated with the stars and light, Earendil bearing the silmaril which itself and the other two jewels were hallowed by Varda and were said to have shone like 'the stars of Varda'.

Elwing is associated with birds and flight, having been transformed into a seabird at one point by Ulmo, and Manwë is, as most fans know, beloved by all birds, but is most associated with the great eagles. (Earendil is also associated with the eagles to an extent, at least in early versions when his name was connected with the elvish words for eagle.) Elwing lives in a tall tower where 'at times all the sea-birds of the earth repaired', and that to Manwë 'hawks and eagles flew ever to and from his halls' 'on the uttermost tower of Taniquetil'.

Elwing's title is the White, while Varda is known as Fanuilos, meaning Snow White.

Manwë and Earendil both have bright blue eyes. '...blue is the fire of his[Manwë's] eyes...' and in the book of lost tales Earendil's eyes are described as 'bluer than the sapphires of the raiment of Manwë;'.

[nyarnamaitar]

We need more and more on Manwë and his three loves. I think each one of them vary in nature and intensity. His love for Varda is the gentlest, he might be most comfortable with her. Him and Ulmo are the best of friends and we know how best friends are fun and easy going together. And then there is Melkor and what he has with Manwë is gut-wrenching, soul-crushing, heartbreaking and Manwë’s always aching (the good kind of ache) when Melkor is around but he’s also happiest. Also they’d do ANYTHING for Manwë, he’s the center of their world. Yes, I’m biased. 🙂

FRIEND, YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE THIS!!!

Yes, Manwë definitely feels most comfortable with Varda. He's also very at ease with Ulmo, but it does take him some time to open up to his friend again after the Darkening, because he feels Ulmo has come to think less of him in the wake of what happened. Generally speaking, Manwë's in a very vulnerable headspace in the first few years after Melkor's betrayal and although he manages to keep it together publically -- he has a job to do and a country to stabilise, after all, and unlike what the fandom thinks (grumbles), he does care very deeply about the Children -- he's increasingly withdrawn in private. He still confides in Varda and in a few others (e.g. Eönwë and Ingwë), but he barely visits Ulmo anymore and when he does, he radiates nervousness and shame. (Until Ulmo's Had Enough, that is, and repairs the bond between them by telling Manwë how much he is loved and respected.) I talk more about this here, by the way, hehe. >:)

"gut-wrenching, soul-crushing" is the most accurate description of Manwë x Melkor I've ever heard!!! Their love is like an iron fist around both their hearts. It's wonderful and fucked-up and beautiful and unhealthy and radiant and dark and-- I love them so much??? I still don't understand why more people don't ship them. It's TRAGIC.

Yes, Manwë is the center of their world. Why, you ask? Because we said so. :)

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

A Merry Chase | Crown of Roses

Day 2 Prompts: The King and Queen | The Master and Mistress of Ceremonies

For: @feast-of-horns

Rating: M

Pairing: Varda/Manwë | Oromë/Vána

Themes: NSFW / NSFT

Warnings: Kissing

Wordcount: 300+ words

Summary: Varda chases after the king | Oromë gives his wife a gift in honor of the chase

A/n: This submission will feature two separate short-short fics centered on the above pairings

Minors DNI | 18+

This is also available on AO3

A Merry Chase

The king ran swiftly. He was the hunted, not the hunter. Behind him came his queen, delighting in the chase, the stars that lit her way, and the prey that was always a step ahead.

"You cannot escape me, my love," she cried when her beloved escaped her grasp again.

"Such will not be the case, my love!" Her king returned as his feet fell against grass and bloom and leaf. He whooped in glee, racing around dainty bushes and mighty trees, so sure was he of victory. Then he faltered, and the queen seized the moment, laughing in triumph while she grappled with him and they fell to the earth in a tangle of limbs. 

"You are mine, beloved," Varda declared lustily and sat astride his hips, her hair a cascading waterfall of dark curls and vivid starlight. “I now claim you for myself and no other.”

“You have indeed claimed me, fair lady.” Her king smiled at her. "Tell me. What does my queen have in store for me?"

Varda did not answer. She leaned down, framed her lord husband’s face with her delicate hands, and kissed him into willing submission with quiet passion. 

Crown of Roses

Her lord husband brushed his fingers over her robes after her handmaidens took their leave of her. A hundred crimson roses in full bloom sewn to delicate linen with golden thread adorned her person, and the air around her reminded the Lord of Forests of a meadow in spring.

"Tis a thing of great beauty, to be sure," he declared wistfully. "But I fear it is still lacking."

"Lacking?" Vána returned, amused rather than wroth. "In what way, my lord?"

"This way." Oromë called out an order, and an attendant came into the dimly lit chamber bearing an ornate wooden chest. He lifted the lid to reveal a crown of crimson roses and horns resting on a velvet cushion.

"A hunter's crown," his wife remarked. Her lips curled up into a beguiling smile. "Does the Master of Ceremonies desire to be hunted?"

"For a few glorious hours," Oromë whispered, "aye."

"Tis an interesting reversal, my lord." Vána stood still while her husband affixed the crown to her hair. "I pray that I will be equal to the challenge."

"You will succeed, beloved." He asked the attendant to leave them, and he waited until the doors closed behind them to sweep his wife into his embrace. "And I swear that I will reward you in as many ways as you desire once you capture me during the chase."

tags: @cilil @asianbutnotjapanese

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Day 7: Cage

Ah, @cilil have Manwë in a cage LOL

Lots of love from me! It's been a joy and an honour to participate!

Words: 100

Characters: Manwë x Varda

Warnings: Manwë in a cage

Varda’s hands moved patiently as she wove the gleaming light of falling stars into a tight net—ephemeral and yet astonishingly solid—to cage and cloak the one she loved.

It was the essence of her love to cradle Manwë in a nest of pure radiance to stave off the voracious darkness that sought to blind him.

“Rest now.”

The Elder King understood the inexorable order in her tender words and let himself mellow into his wife’s cold embrace.

If the coop of her caring concern was perhaps a little constricting, he was wise enough not to raise any objections.

@manweweek

Lots of love from me!

-> Masterlist

[cilil]

Would Varda wearing a bird keeper outfit for sexy time with Manwë be the equivalent of a dominatrix outfit?🤔

[overlord-of-fantasy]

Day 2: Love

I headcanon that Manwe, in true Silmarillion fashion, fell in love with his wife Varda while she was dancing with her stars.

@manweweek

[and-the-stars-collided]

Ainur as Aesthetics: 

Melkor  —  eye-rolls, either sleep for the week or sleep is for the weak, great music taste, extremely passionate, smarter than you'd think, abandoned cities, alcohol, doesn't care about opinions, midnight hours, black coffee, hates humanity, cold hands, barely-there eyeliner, sharp smiles, lace-up boots, doesn't like to be told what to do, anger so blinding that you forget where and who you are, staring at the mirror until your features start to disappear, bad decisions, their words can hit you like a gunshot, the chilling sensation of metal on your skin, sharp claws ready to slash anyone they encounter, shattered antique mirrors, long dark scarves, dark and tousled hair, swallowing hard, a little broken.

Manwë  —  pale white snow, red cheeks, dried flowers that used to be the colour of the sun, quiet half-smiles, sunlight coming through an open window in the morning, hair tucked behind ears, gives the most thoughtful gifts, always neat, sparkly jewellery, beautiful poetry, comforting hugs, light footsteps, kisses on cheeks, a laugh like wind chimes, thunderstorms that you feel in your chest, intelligent eyes, collector of small objects, windswept hair, loves their friends with almost an unhealthy amount of loyalty, the colour of the sky at dusk, a crisp autumn breeze, soft hair, gold-flecked souls, the one who is there for you even when you think you don't need them, singing under their breath, smiles as the rain falls down and laughs as their hair lifts in the breeze.

Varda  —  cracked spines of leather-bound classics, sharing pieces of your soul with the world, starting revolutions with simple words, rosewater, cherry blossom petals floating through the wind, making promises, midnight conversations, writing into abysmal nothingness, stargazing, knowing smiles, doesn't open up easily, soft skin, crystals, a night where the clouds hide the moon, stories swirling in your mind, cursive letters, piercing eyes, whispers filled with secrets, studying things that do not exist, bright flashes of light outside your window, silk bedsheets, mysterious, handwritten notes, stays up so late it's early, plays quiet music for ambiance, fingertips stained with ink.

Ulmo  —  bodies full of stories, a will that ebbs and flows, lazy smiles, no real devotion to anything but existence itself, wordless lullabies, glassy blue eyes, moves with grace and rhythm, late night swims, blue tie dyed sheets, flowing outfits, the rough ocean at night, tall waves and bitter winds, salty hair, long limbs, kind of sad and tired but you've never see them cry, goes with the flow, quiet voice but loud meaning, walks with purpose, always looks their best, very kind and giving, seashells, loud laughter, perfect posture, habit of overthinking, bare feet, ice-cold lemonade, laying on the ground to soak up the sun, sand in the air, intricate designs, high ceilings, dim lights, bitten nails.

Aule  — confident, likes to perform, acts cool but is secretly emotional underneath, bold/dark colours, loves challenges, gets mad and forgives just as quickly, wouldn't change for anyone, laughing so loudly that strangers stare at you, running around like crazy person with your lover, compliments a stranger's crazy hair colour and feeling so good when they smile, unhealthy amounts of candy, fiery red sunsets, getting back up after being knocked down, they know that their friends are right behind them wherever they go, the burn in your lungs after chasing something you'll never be able to catch, always does their own thing.

Yavanna  —  warm days, soft smiles, making sure everyone is happy, walking barefoot, falling asleep in the sun, wishes everyone would be kinder, mugs of too-sweet tea, the person who screams don't kill the spider, adores animals, covered in freckles, one can never quite tell exactly what their eye colour is, pointing to the stars as they peek out from behind the clouds, large yawns early in the morning, a question left unanswered, honey, one hand catching another, tea that is swallowed for its warmth and not the taste, faded patterns on well-loved t-shirts, dew beading on flower petals, the imprints tight socks leave behind, wanderlust's yearning pull.

Orome  —  long hair, loves nature and animals, mist, sharp features, dirt under their fingernails, very down to earth, always willing to help, the strong friend, always has new, interesting facts to tell, tough as all hell, doesn't love easily but always loves deeply, walking barefoot everywhere, wildflowers threaded into messy braids, laying in the afternoon sun, big adventures, crisp air, deeply opinionated, climbing the tallest trees around, muddy feet, toothy smiles, accepting of everyone, follows their own path, stargazing off mountain cliffs, running through tall grass, folklore stories of fairies and dragons, a child at heart.

Nienna  —  honeyed and sulky dark summers, pomegranates, thunderstorms, magnolias, unkept promises, cinematic and shadowy, existing in a trance of melancholy, feels passionately though feigns detachment, slightly off-putting, their presence is announced but even if it wasn't you'd still know they were there, constantly underestimated, desperately afraid of silence, red-rimmed eyes, always appears serene, broken handwriting, short hair, foxes, dead leaves, large coats and scarves, numb fingers, old stone walls, steaming black tea, tears, gazing at a past lover down the hall, the smell before rain, old songs, nostalgia.

Námo  —  set features, eyes the color of dead souls, candles melting wax atop a piano, tragic smiles, an inexplicable sense of sharpness, hot tears, decaying cores, irreversible tornadoes, infectious whispers, heart is always pounding, doesn't like to be seen, nightmares, dark circles under their eyes that they can't hide, doesn't know their limits, slightly self-destructive, the silent one, bitter coffee, quiet observation, black eyeshadow, knows a bit of everything, no-nonsense, cold fingers and colder gazes, being misunderstood, sitting alone in a hard wood chair late at night, dead roses, losing a loved one too soon, moss covering broken gravestones, shattered glass, the taste of melancholy. 

Irmo  —  glows when they talk, dewy eyes, radiates with a blessing from the sun, gentle hands, dandelions, white clouds, the shy warmth of the first days of spring, afternoon naps, soft pillows, carefree laughter, fields of reeds, basking in the moonlight, flower crowns, sunbathing in creeks, gloriously alive, hours among the leaves, kind soul, often lost in their own thoughts, nights spent watching the river, dancing in a circle, holding hands, soft clothes, sun kissed skin, always listening to music, either works too hard or not at all, warm smiles, dancing in the rain, catching fireflies, wanting to do everything and nothing all at once, innocent hope, paper stars in glass jars, bittersweet goodbyes, looking for beauty in everything, water-coloured skies. 

Estë  —  dried orange garlands, snow on green tiled roofs, a bit in love, quills dipped in metallic ink, daydreaming, angelic singing, very fond of cuddling, homemade bread, constantly buying gifts for people, talkative, will hold your hand whenever and wherever, friends with almost everyone, convinced that sleeping at 10pm is late, strawberry ice cream, calming eyes, telling old stories, rosy cheeks, wanting the best for everyone, sunrises, loves nature, passionate about dreams, self-made flower crowns, will stay up late to comfort you, unexpected hugs from the back, not afraid to tell people they love them, humble.

Vairë  —  silver knitting needles, velvet skies filled with twinkling stars, red embroidery thread, hot black tea with spoonfuls of sugar, ballet shoes, hearts carved in birch bark, denim jackets, distant bells, foxgloves, rain moving over hills, cheek caresses, a bedroom left alone, walking in the mud and rain at dusk, resisting change, dead ends, unspoken feelings, finally coming home, looking up at the stars in hope of something more, simultaneously brimming with hope and lifeless, wiling the hours away, staring at the ceiling, wanting to write but not knowing the words, hiding from the world, afraid of the future, a sense of dread.

Vána  —  soft features, the smell of lavender, long walks in the sunshine, singing in a choir, sincere laughter, pastel colours, reading poetry aloud, baking cookies and sharing it with friends, kind gestures, painting on random objects, flower print clothes, lacy socks, handwritten love letters, forgiving people, graceful movements, writing poetry, roses, standing up for those who can't defend themselves, walks through nature, positivity, white lace, long hair, very graceful, always there for you, nostalgia of a time that you never knew, undeniably beautiful, the sweet breeze of a spring morning, slowing drifting off while laying on a green meadow, calm and collected, the best friend you could ask for.

Tulkas  —  loud laughter, hammocks, doesn't know when to stop, can't sleep, jacket with so many fixed holes it has been reduced to patchwork, flashing smiles, living on the edge, free spirit that will rip you to shreds if you dare to try and tame it, bloody knuckles, the moments of silence after a loud screaming match, riding into the sunset, dogs barking in the distance, the smell of fire on the air, running from person to person, unbridled chaos, aimless wandering, on the verge of greatness, call of the void, empty avenues, walking between worlds, wanting to hold the planets, melancholy nights, seeing things that aren't really there, wishing for more, overgrown unkempt gardens, bright colours against dark greens, tripping up on vines and logs, scraped knees.

Nessa  —  can go from laughing to serious fast if necessary, little bits of dark humour, staying up late, they do the little eyebrow thing when they get insulted, doodles, everybody else thinks they have friends but they don’t, red lipstick, lively, can be implosive, forgotten, mood swings like crazy, but very calm when they are happy, regrets decisions they made in the past, affectionately called a little brat, out until late in the afternoon of the next day, does not let anyone kill their vibe, seeing their escape in a person, the echo of your own steps on a tile floor, the sensation of being the only one left, a way that seems to have no end.

Eönwë  —  intimidating, has a soft side but only a few people see it, loves the forest, natural beauty, combat boots, deep thinker, false formality, a chord of music that breaks the silence, clouds rolling in, doesn't get angry but instead just fucking glares at you until you crumble, loves thunderstorms, mind like caverns, hands like stone, to hold or to hurt, heavy irises, earthquake tempers, unrequited love, soft voice, they know you whether you know them or not, lingering touches, people watching, the smell of old books and rain, faint music in the distance, won't let others break their friend's hearts, clearing their throat as a type of warning, moral righteousness, faith in humanity, towering buildings.

Mairon  —  sarcastic comments with a smile, glares that could kill, speaking in such a pretentious way that no one even understands you, obsession over studies, being a good person but getting corrupted, setting fire to the city, eyes like flames, heeled boots, soft aching hands buried in messy hair, ancient ruins, cups of tea gone cold, flawless eyeliner, impulsive decisions, false pretences, sickly sweet smiles, daunting realisations, masquerade masks, too stubborn to admit their regrets, waking up from a nightmare, hands cold to the bone, chest pains, the sharp cold of winter, rotting apples, dark circles under the eyes from not sleeping for days, hands stripped from over-washing.

So! Still trying to work out my masterlist and first few posts I have pre-written. In the meantime, please enjoy this messy aesthetic thingy.

[archiveofthelibrarian]

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Manwion had hair of silver, which at night, reflected the starry sky yet glistened gold when Laurelin waxed. His long silver waves was adored by all, Quendi and Ainur alike, rivaled only by the gold-silver hair of Artanis which was said to have captured the very essence of the Two Trees.

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Love and Glass

Chapter 1

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Inspired by my conversation with @animatorweirdo as anon here.

I did not proof read this, so feel free to point out any mistakes.

Masterpost for the fic can be found here.

DISCLAİMER: I do not own anything you recognize. This is a fanwork for entertainment purposes and should be regarded as such.

Word count: 1.162

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It was just like any other night.

You were on your couch, relaxing and catching up on that show you had neglected for the past month.

It had been a very hectic month at work.

You didn't even want to think, so Netflix was it.

The hours went on and you became more engaged in your show by the minute.

But suddenly, your attention was torn away from the show by a very suspicious noise coming from your backyard.

Cautiously, you took your gun and went to investigate the matter.

What you found was a creature of such beauty, it was otherworldly.

Though he was the exact same height as you and appeared human, he was anything but a normal human.

His hair was silver and it went down to his waist in delicate waves as it reflected the starry night as an ocean, calm and deep.

His face was drained and his complexion was of unsullied light.

His eyes were the darkest shade of blue, capturing the light of stars in themselves.

You were completely entranced, but through some miracle, you managed to keep your guard up.

"Who are you?" you asked, pointing the gun to his forehead.

The creature tilted his head in curiosity. His eyes shined with childlike wonder and innocence.

"What is that?" he asked with pure wonder and innocence. His voice felt like liquid gold to your ears.

"Answer the question!"

The creature flinched and took a step away from you, terrified.

It would be very unwise to trust him, yet it seemed the creature was genuine in his every behavior.

It was almost like he was untouched by malice and did not know of any ulterior motives.

Ignoring the screaming voice of reason in your brain, you lowered your gun and started speaking softly. "Hey, hey. I am sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

The creature looked you in the eyes, his very gaze piercing your heart. "Really?"

You nodded. "Yes, I was just trying to be cautious."

The creature seemed to have believed you in an instant as he lowered his guard entirely.

"Now, what is your name?"

"I don't have a name," the creature said. You felt a tinge in your heart. How could someone not have a name? You so desperately wanted to ask, yet knew better than to pry into a stranger's personal matters.

"Then, how do your people call you?"

"Manwion," he said. "The Amanyar call me Manwion for I am the son of Manwë and Varda."

You felt as if someone poured a bucket of ice-cold water over your head.

"I am sorry, did you say Manwë and Varda?"

He nodded. "Yes, the King and Queen of Arda," he said tilted his head. "Do you not know them? How can you not know them?"

That was it. You had fallen into a coma during work and this was some coma dream shit.

You must have frozen since the creature gently took your hand, jolting you awake.

"Are you okay," he asked.

This was a dream. It had to be.

But the evidence was right here.

"Yeah, I am. Just, surprised..."

That part of your brain which has always been too kind decided to take matters into its own hands as you decided to go invite him in. Whether it was a dream or reality, you couldn't leave someone out here in the middle of the night.

"Why don't you come inside and then we can talk. It is quite a chilly night after all.

The creature smiled. "Okay."

Throughout the entire night, you two talked and as the first light of the sun dawned on earth, it became clear to you that this creature was truly what he claimed to be.

He was the son of Manwë and Varda, the King and Queen of Arda.

He was Manwion, the Silver Prince of Arda,, who was made out of silver crystal and given life.

He was the embodiment of innocence and joy.

He could never know any evil or malice for his heart was untouched by any of it.

But it did not mean malice was nonexistent because he couldn’t know it. And this was a world full of malicious intent.

He was so vulnerable here.

If anyone found out about his existence aside from yourself, they would take him and turn him into a lab rat.

The images of this creature of pure light and joy being experimented on played in your head.

It was so horrible.

You could not let that happen.

So you decided to hide Manwion’s existence from the world, letting him stay in your house.

Manwiom really wasnt hard to love with his cheerful and radiant personality.

He really was the embodiment of joy.

As days turned intp weeks and weeks turned into months, you found yourself liking Manwion more and more.

Looking at him when he wasnt looking, bringing him new things he had not known earlier so that you could see his face light up with joy...

You had fallen in love and you had fallen hard.

But Manwion was a divine being of another world, he was the Silver Prince of Arda and you were but a mere human from Earth who worked 8-5 and ran on cafdeine most of the time.

The thought of having your affection resipricsted seened like fever dream no matter how you looked at it.

But he did in fact return your affections. And he return them as much more beauty than you ever thought was possible.

And so began your days of bliss on Earth.

But it would not last as few things ever did.

Despite all your caution, the authorities managed to find out about Manwion and thus began a search for him.

With no other choice, you took the barest necessities for your survival and Manwion and you fled from your home.

You held the hand of Manwion tight as the light from police cars threatened to blind you.

Manwion's hands were shaking from terror.

There were so many guns pointed at you.

The officer repeated his demand for you to turn yourselves in.

You were hesitant to speak as anything you said would render you in an even worse situation.

Just when you thought it was all over, the very fabric of the space-time was torn, revealing a dark tentacle.

The tentacle started wreaking havoc as it blasted the police cars away.

In the chaos, you and Manwion got separated.

The moment you realized he was not with you, you started to look around frantically.

And suddenly, your world narrowed to the sight of him screaming as he was captured and dragged into the depths of the void by the dark creature.

Without thinking, your body sprang into action taking a gun one of the officers had managed to somehow lose, you held onto the tencale and got dragged with him into the void.

The tear on the fabric fixed itself, trapping you, the creature and Manwion inside.

[yandere-ainur-confessions]

would you write a headcanon of how valar and maiar fall for darling and start to be obsessed with them? (did I do it right?? I'm so nervous lol)

❪ ♡ ❫ ── 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰, 𝒄𝒂𝒏'𝒕 𝒉𝒆𝒍𝒑 - 𝒇𝒂𝒍𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖 . . .

  ♡. 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒕 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒔𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕

they remember it so vividly. the day that you walked into their life. passing by them in all your perfectness. your beauty, your demeanour, the small little smile that you gave them once you caught their unintentional stare. many would call it just a chance encounter. the gardens, a banquet, a mere passing interaction - but oh, you will scorn their mind for all eternity. did you feel it too? the connection that they felt? the song of your fëa, surely it was singing for them? it will drive them mad and they will be eager to meet you again. when you recognise them, their heart would sore. so you did feel the same? oh, if only you knew what you had gotten yourself into. they'll make it their life's mission to learn every little thing about you. stalking, you say? no, they're just lovingly learning more about their soulmate. now they are convinced that you are meant to be theirs. and it certainly would be unfortunate if you didn't think so too

𝒎𝒂𝒏𝒘𝒆, 𝒕𝒖𝒍𝒌𝒂𝒔, ulmo, vana, 𝒗𝒂𝒓𝒅𝒂, yavanna, 𝒕𝒊𝒍𝒊𝒐𝒏, 𝒐𝒍𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒏, aiwendil, 𝒂𝒎𝒂𝒖𝒓𝒆, luilire

♡. 𝒂𝒏 𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒆 𝒐𝒇 𝒌𝒊𝒏𝒅𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔

you were most likely one of the few people outside of their family to show them true kindness. it felt like they were on air. that day that you aided them with something, or defended their name from others. they remember how fast their heart beat, how their song shifted to a thousand symphonies as they gazed at you with wonder. to think. . . that someone actually cared. from that day they grew hungry for your affection and favour. eager to seek you out and hope that you would continue to show them the kindness and attention that they were greedy for. you made them feel so. . . complete. they've never loved someone so wholeheartedly, so completely, until the day your touch grazed their hand and you smiled at them so warmly. they hope that you feel the same and will do just about anything to gain your attention, even if it's subtly. and should you place your attention elsewhere? you'll regret it.

𝒏𝒂𝒎𝒐, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒌𝒐𝒓, aule, nessa, 𝒎𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒐𝒏, curumo, gothmog, osse, 𝒏𝒂𝒗𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒏, almion, 𝒓𝒖𝒊𝒏𝒆 

♡. 𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒇𝒐𝒓 𝒂 𝒍𝒊𝒇𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒎𝒆

they have known you for the longest time. it feels like they've loved you for even longer. they are one of your closest companions, the person that you turn to when in need of aid. the one that you cry on when you're sad. the one that has been with you through every good and each bad. they boast in such a fact - that they know you so intimately and that they are the person that you rely on. . . but there is a deeper sense of longing within them, a yearning for something more. they feel possessive over you. after all, aren't they your everything like you are to them? why can't you see that the two of you are meant to be together? every time you bring up someone else they feel a bit of their sanity chipping away. they'll make you see how much you need them. how much they love you. after all, if you didn't feel the same, why did you lead them on? you have to take responsibility. they'll make sure of it, make sure that you know who you belong to.

𝒊𝒓𝒎𝒐, orome, 𝒏𝒊𝒆𝒏𝒏𝒂, este, 𝒆𝒐𝒏𝒘𝒆, ilmare, arien, melian, 𝒎𝒆𝒍𝒎𝒆, 𝒗𝒂𝒏𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒆, erulisse, 𝒍𝒖𝒎𝒊𝒓𝒆

[gelenka-daria]

me about melkor x manwë: CANNOT live without each other, one and the same yet completely different, bound in ëlea and fana til death do them part, loathe to part from one another, melkor wants to possess manwë utterly, eats sleeps breathes manwë, wants to cocoon them away from the world and keep him to himself, the center of his universe, does everything with his little brother in mind, in love and in (supposed) hate. manwë understands his brother's inner workings like no other and willingly gives himself over to the madness only he can tame and, if he so wished, could further stoke the flame. even if the others remain weary of his brother, he knows that underneath the vainglory, the cruelty and the darkness, lay a genius with such potential and much to offer arda, in this essay i will-

me about varda x melkor: why on earth would varda spare a glance to that psychotic, narcissistic, murderous, vandalistic, backstabbing, petty ass motherfucker?

[the-red-butterfly]

Wont You Say Anything?

Manwë & Varda (Tolkien universe)

Day 6: Fallen | Storm @manweweek

Please beloved, tell me what is wrong? Please, my lord. Why won't you say anything? My Love? Manwë?

This is technically a continuation of this comic strip -> Eru's Instrument I did it a year or two ago? In it Manwë has a not so good, very bad day because of daddy dearest.

This is technically the third part of this whole thing BUT, where's the second part you might be asking? If that comic is the fist? Well, the second part is supposed to be another comic but i haven't actually drawn it 😬 But it's planned at least? I'll happen eventually? So yay?

.

Open for Commissions

[aureentuluva70]

You can bet that Manwë was absolutely the one who invented the gesture of blowing kisses, and that Varda receives 90% of those air kisses of his. That's it. That's the post.

[nyarnamaitar]

I believe both Melkor and Ulmo eventually accept each other’s presence, begrudgingly so, for the sake of Manwë, even if in the end the one who’s really winning is, of course, Melkor. Like even canonically you can argue that Melkor dominates Manwë’s thoughts if not in body.

Mmm, yes, Manwë has multiple partners (he has a lot of love to give), who all have to find ways of dealing with each other, lmfao. In my head, Varda has always been largely accepting of it. I don't see her as very romantically inclined anyway; she loves Manwë fiercely, but she's not possessive, nor jealous. As long as his lovers don't hurt him (looking at you, Melkor), she's fine with them. Also, I wanna note that Varda is Manwë's main spouse -- and she will continue to be so, even in a redeemed Melkor in Arda Unmarred type of scenario.

Ulmo's acceptance of the situation hinges on the partners in question. He greatly respects Varda, sees how much she loves her husband and vice versa, so he has never resented her place in Manwë's heart. Is it possible that Ulmo is sometimes a tiny bit jealous of Varda? Sure. But it's a harmless sort of jealousy, one that he doesn't care to linger on. Melkor, however, is... a different story, lol. Ulmo rationally knows that Melkor is half of Manwë's soul, but it still destroys him to see the one he loves the most be betrayed over and over again. Ulmo wants to rip Melkor apart for hurting Manwë so deeply. So it would probably take a lot of time for Ulmo to fully accept Melkor as a part of Manwë's life. (He only ever gets around to it in Arda Unmarred, I think, though he'll never fully trust Melkor.)

Melkor is, simply put, an insanely possessive wildcat that wants to eviscerate everyone whom Manwë loves romantically. He -- begrudgingly, half-heartedly -- managed to somewhat deal with Varda being Manwë's spouse (he still sulks about it, though, like a toddler), but whenever Ulmo's around Manwë, he's like

Safe to say Manwë is Not Impressed. Nor is Ulmo. (Varda's sniggering from the other side of the room.)

Sorry, Anon, I went off on a tangent. :") But yeah, I agree with you. Varda is Manwë's wife, Ulmo is his BFF & lover, but Melkor is Manwë's soulmate. I don't know whether that means Melkor necessarily "wins", but it's an enviable position to be in, for sure.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Proper Contest

Paring: Varda & Manwë

Others: Ilinsor

AU: Medieval AU

Themes: Soft

Warnings: Mild violence (blink and you might miss it)

Wordcount: 700+words

Summary: Manwë rides against Varda during an impromptu jousting session

This is for you @cilil I hope you like it!

Manwë settled himself in his saddle. “This is a true contest, yes?”

Ilinsor, his varlet, brought forth his lance. It was fashioned for tourneys, with a blunted five-pointed coronal resting at the tip. He presented it to the prince and said, “It is a true contest, your grace, as was agreed upon. And the lady is most eager to get on with it.”

"I am well," Manwë gasped in relief when the helm was removed. He could breathe easier again. "I just need a moment to gather myself."

The prince couched the proffered weapon and lifted his gaze. Varda sat atop her gray charger at the far end of the lists, a regal vision in silver and blue. Her armor, made especially for her, was a visible testament to the wealth and status of her noble house. Gauntlets, helm, and plate enameled in the colors of House Starfield had roses and twisting vines of silver filigree embellishing them. A heavy azure cloak sewn from several yards of velvet fell down her back. It was richly worked also, with roses picked out in silver thread and brilliant blue sapphires.

“Are you ready, your grace?” She cried and pulled down the visor.

“As ready as I will be, my lady!” Manwë returned, squirming in his saddle. In truth, his armor was wholly new to him, a gift from his lord father. Dark armor and a dark helm shielded him, and an emerald pin fashioned in the shape of the sigil of the Royal House of Ilúvatar secured a jet cloak around his shoulders. And it felt stifling against his person, like a steel cage he could not escape from easily. Varda, on the other hand, wore hers like a second skin.

“Very well then, your grace!” Varda looked at a herald standing nearby. He held a white flag aloft in his hand. “We are ready to begin.”

The herald dropped the flag and made haste to run out of the way. Manwë urged his horse into a gallop, his lance level at the rider hurtling down the field toward him. The sensations of it all—the cold wind in his hair, the horse snorting beneath him as it tore up the rain softened-earth with its hooves, and the heavy weapon in his arm—were equally exhilarating and terrifying. He had never partaken in a proper joust before; Varda had partaken in many. It showed in the way she sat in the saddle and how skillfully she cradled her lance under her arm. When she neared and the appointed moment drew close, the prince remembered his weapons master’s words and lifted his chin at the last moment, to better protect his eyes.

It was poorly timed in the end, for when Manwë looked away, his grip loosened, and his lance glanced to the right. Varda, however, kept true to her mark, her lance striking the prince square in the chest. It cracked and splintered into a hundred little pieces, and the force of the blow was powerful enough to knock the prince out of his saddle and send him flying into the air. He grunted in pain when he landed on the flat of his back.

“Your grace!” Ilinsor raced toward him, his dark walnut eyes full of concern and worry. He fell to his knees beside the prince and loosened the clasp of his helm. “Your grace! Are you well? Should I fetch a physician?”

"My pardons, my prince." Varda rode up to him and reined her horse to a stop. She dismounted in one swift move. "I struck you too hard."

"This is not your fault," the prince said. He smiled and sat up, still winded from being thrown off his saddle and grateful that the tourney field was nigh empty; he did not care for the notion of other knights witnessing a son of the king being bested so easily. "I asked for a proper contest, and I thank you for honoring it. It is plain I need to spend more time in the saddle. And now I must ask you to join me for a cup of wine. There is much I wish to ask from you."

Varda smiled and extended her hand. When the prince grasped it, she helped him to his feet. "I will be honored to join you, your grace."

tags: @asianbutnotjapanese

[cilil]

𝐏𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐯𝐞!𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐫 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 - 𝓂𝒶𝓇𝓀𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝓎ℴ𝓊 𝒶𝓈 𝓉𝒽ℯ𝒾𝓇𝓈

Characters: Manwë, Varda, Oromë, Námo and Irmo; reader's gender is unspecified - all up to your imagination~

Featuring: Dom/sub dynamics/undertones, predator/prey kink, soul sex

Warnings: Possessive themes, bit of rough foreplay and sex, smut/suggestive

Author's Note: Thanks to everyone who voted on my recent polls. I'll be trying out a bit of a new format, combining headcanons with small scenes/imagines, with this one and hope you'll find it enjoyable. If there are other characters you'd like to see for this, feel free to suggest and keep an eye out for future polls!♡

Manwë

ଘ The Elder King is a romantic lover and enjoys courting you, though even during these early stages he finds ways to subtly claim you for himself: He showers you with gifts like jewellery with sapphires (his signature gemstone), robes in his colours, objects decorated with feathers or bird-shaped items and writes poetry for you which he recites and sings for you both in private and in public.

ଘ Once Manwë has successfully conquered your heart, he makes sure to publicly display his affection for you by making you sit on his lap, kissing you and wrapping his wings around you at every opportunity.

ଘ In the bedroom, little remains of Manwë's calm, serene demeanour. He loves marking your body with his talons, covering you in love bites and engaging in breath play to make you feel just how much you need his element - need him.

ଘ Manwë has a breeding kink that gets particularly strong when he's in heat or nearing it and loves filling you up to make sure that his essence remains inside you as long as possible and his scent stays on you, deterring any other suitors from approaching you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Your lips part to release a soft gasp when Manwë pulls you closer and presses open-mouthed kisses to the side of your neck, biting and sucking gently to leave blossoming marks. His mighty talons draw patterns on the naked skin of your back, causing you to arch and lean into his embrace; he is careful not to hurt you, though you already know you will be covered in thin red lines once he's done with you. 

"My little dove," Manwë croons between kisses, his voice deceptively soft; he caresses you like a warm, gentle breeze, though you know a mighty storm is slumbering underneath his calm exterior, ready to be unleashed, should anyone else attempt to touch what is his.

"Yours," you whisper. Your hands claws at his robes as Manwë continues to mark you as his for all to see; the Elder King's mate and lover that no other would ever dare to lay claim to.

Varda

✧ The Queen of Stars is often absent from the daily affairs of Valinor in favour of tending to her creations in the depths of Eä, but she makes sure everyone knows exactly who you belong to even when she's not present.

✧ Varda loves giving you pretty necklaces, bracelets and other jewellery adorned with charms that are filled with her starlight, protecting you and burning anyone who attempts to touch you without her permission.

✧ When she makes love to you, she ensures that you will remember her touch and others see the marks she left on you as will - in case anyone was doubting that you are hers - by painting luminous constellations on your skin with her fingers, twinkling little stars reminiscent of notes in a song of her love for you.

✧ Varda also gives you water from her wells to drink, enjoying the thought of her essence filling you and providing you with light and refreshment. She will stop at nothing to make sure the powers of darkness and evil stay far away from you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Hold still, my little light," the Queen orders, pushing you down and into the soft sheets of her bed with gentle authority. 

You blink nervously when you see the tip of her index finger glowing with sacred, primordial light, ready to paint the canvas of your bare chest with tiny, glittering stars. 

"Will it hurt?" 

Varda smiles and leans down to kiss your brow. "Of course not. There is no evil in your heart, dearest; my light would never hurt you." 

Her starlit touch is hot, and for a moment you fear it'll sear your skin, but as soon as she begins caressing you, reminiscent of the gentle strokes of a paintbrush, the sensation changes to a comfortable heat. You raise your head to watch as she turns you into another one of her masterpieces, and your beloved Queen looks pleased whenever her nimble fingers elicit small noises from you, her luminous eyes holding your gaze while she slowly works her way lower and lower. 

Oromë

♘ Oromë is a hunter with all his heart, so once he has caught you, he certainly won't let anyone take away his favourite prey. He loves giving you trophies from his hunting trips to wear as accessories, a not-so-subtle message to all that you now belong to him.

♘ But that won't satisfy him for too long. The huntsman of the Valar is a wild and passionate lover and covers you in bite and scratch marks every time he takes you, making sure they are visible too.

♘ Oromë loves all sorts of cuddling and physical affection and actively initiates it whenever an opportunity presents itself. While this is certainly done for his and your enjoyment, he also wants others to see that you are his and his alone and ensure that his scent will be all over you even when he isn't around, in order to ward off unwanted attention from other suitors. For the same reason, he also breeds you thoroughly.

♘ If you are a good little pet for him, Oromë will reward you with a lovely collar he made specifically for you, letting everyone know that he has claimed you and intends to keep you.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Oromë's large hands hold on to your hips with a strong, bruising grip that has you whining into the moss below. You already know not to expect mercy whenever you play his favourite game of hunting and catching his prey, a symbolic earning of his right to claim you. 

"What a lovely little deer," Oromë purrs and leans forward to bite the juncture between your neck and shoulder while he enters you with the fierce determination of a feral beast. 

Your cries and moans only spur him on to thrust deeper and harder, his hands keeping you in place with the strength and steadiness of an experienced hunter. As far as you know, you two are alone in this part of his woods, yet something tells you that he wouldn't mind if one of the other hunting parties found you – to see him taking you, marking you, filling you with his seed to ensure that his scent you be on you for days to come. 

Námo

☯ The mark of a Fëantur may be subtle, though no less intense than those visible on your skin. Once Námo has taken you as his lover, he binds your fëa to his, leaving an echo of his song and a ghost of his touch with you wherever you go. Those proficient in ósanwe and/or attuned to spiritual matters feel the Doomsman's presence wherever you go, no more than one call through your bond away.

☯ Nevertheless, Námo knows that not all Incarnates are able to sense and heed his silent warning, so he also presents you with clothes and jewellery to adorn your body. He likes long, flowing robes in dark colours, veils and little charms shaped like crows and ravens, similar to his own attire, and greatly enjoys seeing you wearing those, an unmistakable sign of belonging to him.

☯ When he isn't present and you are outside of his halls, Námo may occasionally guide your fate in whichever way he sees fit to make sure you return safely. Those who attempt to harm you will face the Doomsman's wrath.

☯ Yet as much as he wishes to protect you, Námo wants nothing more than to own and mark you in the most intimate way possible - which is your fëa. Should you ever be slain, or once his need and longing overwhelm him, he will whisk you away to Mandos, keep you there until the end of the world and fill your spirit with his song and essence time and time again until you know no other than him.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

Cool lips kiss the nape of your neck when Námo takes you, slowly and deliberately, enjoying the way your smaller form trembles in his arms. He's sitting on his throne with you on his lap, your robes covering the illicit image of the Master of Fate penetrating you, yet the small moans falling from your lips and the movement of his hips betray the truth. 

"Let me have you," Námo whispers, and you know he wants more than to claim just your body, so you open your mind to him as well. 

The sensation of his fëa reaching out to touch and intertwine with yours is just as intense as the joining of your bodily forms. Your helpless noises increase in volume despite your best efforts to hold back, yet Námo doesn't seem to mind – in fact, you begin to suspect that he wants the residents of Mandos to look up at his throne and watch, so they will know who you belong to for all ages to come. 

Irmo

☾ No one has escaped the loving arms of the Lord of Dreams without remnants of glittering dream dust on their clothes and skin, and you are certainly no exception, quite the contrary: As Irmo's favourite little butterfly, he makes sure to touch, embrace and cuddle you to his heart's content, and ever since your courtship started, you feel like the dream dust has never left you again. He feigns innocence, yet you suspect that this is very much his intention, so everyone can see his touch upon you even when he isn't around.

☾ Irmo crafts a special dream catcher for you and makes sure you wear it at all times, an unmistakable sign of his love for you. It contains a small part of himself and his power, and he taps into it to ward off nightmares.

☾ He also likes entering your dreams, spending time with you there and, most importantly, ensuring that no other suitors may ever find their way there, because you belong to him and him alone. When you sleep in his gardens, you often wake up feeling his lips and hands kissing and caressing your body, leaving trails of dream dust and, at times, colourful patterns on your skin.

☾ As much as he enjoys claiming your body, he desires nothing more than to possess you in spirit as well, so that the union of your fëar leaves a permanent mark on your very being, filling you with his song and his essence.

. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭. . . . . ◟੭

"Here? In the middle of your garden?" 

Irmo merely laughs in response and rolls you over on your back to climb on top of you, his iridescent butterfly wings fluttering excitedly. 

"Why not, my darling petal? Is our love not the fairest and most beautiful thing my garden has ever seen?" 

Glittering dream dust falls from his wings and hair as he leans forward to kiss you, and you soon find yourself feeling both soothed and excited by his presence and the comfortable weight of his fána on top of you. 

Sensing your emotions, Irmo's gentle hand sneaks between your legs and finds you willing and eager for him, ready to be taken. He breaks the kiss to gaze at your face, delighting in your blushing cheeks, half-lidded eyes and parted, wet lips, panting softly as you look up at him. 

"I will make love to you until you fall asleep in my arms," Irmo whispers, "and when you do, I will continue to make love to you in your dreams." 

taglist: @a-contemplation-upon-flowers @asianbutnotjapanese @bluezenzennie @edensrose @i-did-not-mean-to @melkors-defense-attorney @singleteapot

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