#March event

[i-did-not-mean-to]

Silvergifting - March

Written for my dear reader MoonLord :D (again)

Oh, this one is violent and dark. Please be advised!

Prompts: “Look at me! - Sacrifice - Sworn Enemy

Pairing: Annatar x Celebrimbor

Words: 1015

Warnings: blood, torture, sadness, fear, flaying, mutilation, manipulation, cruelty

“Tell me where they are!” Annatar enunciated, a frown forming on his luminous brow.

Something about Tyelpë’s face irked him, and it took a moment for him to understand that his former lover looked positively ugly.

Tired, injured, and visibly terrified, Celebrimbor was far from the suave smith and comely cub that had almost managed to capture Annatar’s petrified heart.

His skin was blotchy, and his eyes were bloodshot as he writhed, naked and sweating profusely, against the cold steel that held him.

In many shockingly dispassionate ways, he reminded his finally revealed enemy of the horses the Children rode into battle, and which ran themselves ragged before being “delivered” by a merciful blade.

For darling Tyelpë, there would, of course, be no such mercy before he’d not given up the secret he so stubbornly tried to withhold from one immeasurably more powerful and terrible than he could even imagine.

By nature and design, Annatar himself had no notion of ugliness—even his unchained anger and boundless hatred only gilded him and, if anything, made him even more unbearably, uncannily beautiful.

Indeed, the flush of ire in his cheeks and the flash of calculating disdain in his eyes only heightened his bewitching pulchritude, and this alone seemed to further distress his headstrong captive if his frantic squirming against unbreakable bonds was any indication.

No, the hideousness of rage and fear was something Annatar had learned and studied throughout the ages.

“Hey, look at me,” he purred, lifting Celebrimbor’s head—lolling feebly to and fro—by the deceivingly tender touch of a single finger. “Tell me where those silly, inconsequential rings you made, according to my design and thanks to my help, are, and I’ll let you go. We could even try to rekindle…”

His lips curled into a petulant moue of displeasure when Celebrimbor gave a raucous, brittle, distinctly derisive chuckle.

“Or not,” Annatar continued smoothly. “It doesn’t matter. Just tell me where you’ve taken them!”

The light—once so compellingly bright and pure—within the young Elf was failing fast now; already it seemed reduced to a single flickering point of defiance within his otherwise dull gaze, and Annatar gave a long, regretful sigh.

“I’ve known your great-grandfather,” he said with an impish smirk. “And your grandfather…and Fëanáro, of course.”

As he spoke, Annatar let his long, slender fingers touch the steel construction onto which he had affixed Celebrimbor’s painfully stretched-out limbs. In honour and mockery of his heritage, Annatar—who had once been Mairon, The Admirable—had returned to his own roots and had handcrafted a beautiful eight-pointed star such as the boy’s grandfather had elected as his sigil.

A muted grunt that Annatar could not quite interpret escaped his captive at that.

“Let it sink in,” Annatar purred. “Understand who and what I am—what I’ve seen, what I’ve done, what terrible and wonderful power I wield!”

Even if the incarnates, quick to forget the lessons their ancestors had carved out of history by blood and suffering, seemingly invariably swallowed his disguise line, hook, and sinker, Annatar remembered everything.

“There is fire in your blood,” he whispered fervently. “It has been kindled within your line long before you were even a distant dream.”

Pressing his lips against Celebrimbor’s sweat-sheened temple, Annatar let some of that life-giving heat he’d carried within himself since before Arda had been created flow into the other’s fading being.

“I can keep you alive.” It was a promise. It was a threat. “I know what you need, and I shall give it to you while stripping you of everything else.”

Again, Celebrimbor merely moaned before clamping his pale, bloodless lips shut.

“As you wish…”

With deliberate, teasing precision, Annatar chose a sharp blade from his collection and made the first cut.

“I’ve perfected this technique on your uncle,” he explained cheerily as he splayed a warm, soothing hand against the concave, trembling stomach of his doomed paramour. “He was also such a sacrificial fool.”

As he meticulously severed ligaments and detached muscles, Annatar let his supreme energy flow in a steady, sustaining stream into Celebrimbor’s agonised body.

“He wouldn’t give up his secrets either,” he muttered, still peeved at the recollection of Maedhros’s laughable obstinacy. “Much good it did him.”

“He lived.”

“Not for long.”

Celebrimbor, even as he was divested of his pristine skin piece by piece, had the nerve to utter another guffaw that echoed like a scream through the empty chamber.

“You know nothing about time,” he ground out. “And you shall never learn where the rings are.”

“You’ll die a terrible death,” Annatar prophesied darkly.

The almost pitying gaze the moribund Elf gave him made the unveiled Maia bare his teeth in frustration.

“And I thought you knew my family,” Celebrimbor hissed. “As ever, you overestimate yourself. I am undaunted.”

For a while, Annatar continued his gruesome work in sullen silence. He kept that flayed grotesquery of his own making suspended on the very edge of death as he peeled back the layers of his beloved Tyelpë to reveal his sworn enemy.

That last insult had hit him harder and wounded his pride deeper than he’d anticipated, especially seeing the unequivocal power dynamic in which they presently found themselves.

Despite his instinctive reluctance, Annatar searched his near-perfect memory for hints and clues.

There were many things for which these pesky incarnates would die gladly, and he couldn’t decide which one was at stake presently.

Could it be a home Celebrimbor had never really had since leaving the Blessed Realm?

The idea of another lover was so outrageous that Annatar discarded it instantly—it was inconceivable to him that any other being, no matter how handsome or kind, might have eclipsed him in Tyelpë’s affections.

Family. The certainty hit the malicious Maia like his former Master’s icy breath—if there was one thing that turned even the most loquacious of Elves into unmoving stone, it surely was the safety and happiness of their kin.

“They’re all dead,” he spat distractedly.

“Well,” Celebrimbor breathed faintly. “Then the rings are lost, and you shall never retrieve them!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me!

@fellowshipofthefics Here's a really dark one one!

[toxictoxicities]

Hellllloooooo :D

I'm probably about to sound a lil stupid but I have no damn clue where to get the rw art month prompt list and I have no idea who to ask or where I would find it exactly  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

do you perhaps have it or know where to find it???

(no real reason for asking u in particular btw, I just saw an art month post from someone at the top of my page and decided to ask ,:))

OH there was an announcement on the main Rain World server on discord which had the list! Here it is, good luck!

[gourdlycatgen]

events list!

January event - New Year, New Lore

Shakeup! World building requests ONLY!

February event - Lovers Lingering

Two to three cats, already in love, given per ask! Will also do courting/partner traditions.

March event - Egg hunt

trans event Spring and Easter-themed cats and traditions only!

April event - Fool's Folly

Goofy cats! Who knows, you might get a cat with clothes if you request in april!

May event - Birthday Barrage

All may requests are kittens! It's my birthday month so gotta go simple.

June event - Quaintly Queer

GAY CATS. Every June request will be incredibly queer, and many will be poly, no cishets allowed! Get off my blog if you dislike this <3

July event - Summer fun

Just a bunch of sun-loving cats. normal request time no special factors! Request anything for a world or a cat.

August event - Time to Train

APPRENTICES! In honor of folks going back to school, August is entirely apprentices! Nothing else!

September event - Solstice Celebration

Another mostly normal event, but since the fall solstice is in this month, it'll be a focus of the month to have fall and space themes! Will also do religion requests

October event - Trick or Treat

SPOOKY MONTH. SPOOKY CATS ONLY!

November event - Herb Fest

As a celebration of the end of harvest season for many in the north, this month will be entirely cats trained in healing! Will also do fictional herb requests.

December event - Winter Bash

Whatever holiday you celebrate, I don't care! Come to this blog with a request in December and you'll get a wintery suprise! Specify a holiday or specific winter holiday folk story/myth and I'll theme it around that! Will also do sickness requests.

events will change if i start getting flooded

asks i don’t get to by the start of the next event will be purged unless they can be used in the next one.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Here it is! The lineup for @manweweek !

Day 1: Family | Breath & Air: BoLT version of Manwë/Varda with baby Fionwë Úrion (Eönwë)

Day 2: Friends & Love | Rain & Clouds: Manwë & Yavanna

Day 3: The Children | Whispering Breeze: Manwë & Fingon for @melestasflight

Day 4: Poetry & Birdsong | Taniquetil: Manwë/Ingwë

Day 5: Free of Evil | Opposition: Manwë/Melkor for Sofie (nyarnamaitar) - Dead Dove

Day 6: Fallen | Storm: Dark! Manwë/Ulmo for MoonLord - Dead Dove

Day 7: Freeform: Vampire! Manwë/Námo

Original image from Nico Frey/Unsplash

[paganbabymcsmutty]

Short and Spuffy fanfic event at Sunnydale After Dark

We are so excited to share the challenge for our March 2023 drabble event: Short and Spuffy!

So, without further ado, the guidelines:

For the first 30 days of March, a new prompt will be posted every morning (by 9am site time) in a centralized Sunnydale Press news post. These prompts will be short, sweet, and open-ended.

You'll write a drabble inspired by the prompt. Feel free to take it in any direction you want. You do not have to use the words from the prompt in the drabble.

Maybe you’ll write a sexy snippet with Spike and Buffy baking things with chocolate, or maybe you’ll write a tidbit about Buffy whacking Spike over the head with Willow’s rolling pin after Something Blue, or maybe rolling pins will be a metaphor for Buffy’s regret about making such a bad baking metaphor as she misses Spike.

The word goal for each drabble is exactly 100 words. This is inspired by the long-running Live Journal community, open_on_sunday, which for many years featured a weekly challenge to write 100-word Jossverse drabbles.

You can choose to post the drabble at any point during the month of March, so it does not have to be the day of the prompt. We are all busy! March 31 will serve as a catch-up day with no new prompt.

[o0kawaii0o]

"Anything caught your eye?"

[n4tsum1-san]

i can't believe jiaoqiu made this guy shit himself

[the-astral-express-archive]

Honkai: Star Rail | Countdown to HoYoFair Honkai: Star Rail 2025 New Year Special Fan Art Program "Tide & Seek": 7

Artists: 9baMelo (1st artwork) & aoirooto (2nd artwork) on Twitter/X Clean version from the artists' accounts: 1st / 2nd

[sayruq]

[prokopetz]

Die Hard being considered part of the canon of "Christmas movies" simply because the events of the film take place near Christmas is a classic, but for my money the funniest example of this particular phenomenon is Beethoven's Last Night, a rock opera concept album about a conversation between Ludwig van Beethoven and the Devil, consistently being filed under Christmas music purely on the strength that the artists who made it also did that one heavy metal arrangement of "Carol of the Bells" you keep hearing everywhere.

[ikiri]

"...it almost feels like they're drawing you in, doesn't it?"

[i-did-not-mean-to]

FireBird - March

Ah, my dear friend @cilil was so good to send in a couple of requests!

It's my joy and honour to present the first fic to you tonight :D

Prompts: “The worst part is you didn’t even notice” – “I don’t need a gentleman right now.” – Responsibility – Knight in shining armour

Pairing: Eönwë x Gothmog

Words: 1030

Warnings: Injury, blood, sadness, bad elves, good Eönwë

“Let him be, I’ll take care of it,” Eönwë called, feeling the back of his neck heat up as the despicable half-truth crossed his dry lips.

Nobody had expected the co-habitation of once inveterate foes to be easy, and Eönwë even secretly believed that Manwë could and should have been more discouraging when it came to the outright hostile behaviour towards the reformed former denizens of Angband.

Unfortunately, the reality turned out to be much worse than anything the kind-hearted herald had ever imagined.

“Milord,” the group of reembodied Elves muttered and withdrew reluctantly.

It was forbidden for the Balrogs to travel in groups, and much too often resentful, unforgiving members of the High Houses liked to corner Melkor’s fallen servants and harass them cruelly.

“Away with you,” Eönwë called sternly. “Leave it to me!”

Of course, Eönwë did not doubt that any of the fearsome Maiar could have defended themselves against a few puny incarnates, but he took his role as a keeper of the peace very seriously.

Moreover, he was eager for this one Balrog in particular to understand that he was on his side, as much as that was even possible anymore.

“Bird,” Gothmog purred, leaning heavily against a boulder, and trying to angle his body so as to dissimulate the minor wounds the group of pesky troublemakers had inflicted upon him. “Have you come to chide me? I swear upon my honour that I’ve not laid a single claw upon your precious Children.”

At that ludicrous declaration, Eönwë let his frown deepen disapprovingly.

He knew Manwë’s stipulations only too well—after all, he had been the one tasked to convey them to the unfortunate souls they concerned—but, in his heart of hearts, he nevertheless much regretted to see his friend and lover hurt because of a set of cold, unfeeling rules.

“You’re allowed to defend yourself against those who’d seek to harm you,” he murmured insistently.

“And risk your displeasure, beloved? From your sweet lips came the ordinance to renounce my evil ways, and I shall do so, no matter the cost to my health and heart,” Gothmog replied calmly.

Unfortunately, his efforts at clumsy gallantry were considerably hampered by the fact that he was by now slowly slumping under the strain of desperately pretending that he was perfectly hale and happy.

“You look particularly appetising today, bird,” Gothmog tried to assuage the worry in the bright, sky-blue eyes of his most cherished enemy. “I mean, you look handsome.”

Eru’s long-haired pet meat bags might never have understood it, but there were truths and affinities sung into creation that far transcended their very limited interpretation of beauty and affection.

Thus, it had come to pass that these fierce warriors—having fought ferociously on opposite fronts in a seemingly eternal war—had ultimately found well-deserved peace in one another.

As all star-crossed lovers were wont to asseverate, they naturally were willing to selflessly die for the other.

Living, they’d soon found out, was a much more arduous and treacherous challenge.

Ever diligent to the point of undeniable stubbornness, Gothmog had decided that he’d use his new-found freedom to give Eönwë what he clearly yearned for so desperately: a proper romantic courtship.

“Could I interest you in a leisurely stroll by the river then?” the Balrog asked in a forcibly level voice.

“Don’t be silly,” Eönwë exclaimed. “You are injured! This is hardly the moment for pleasant walks by the water. Let me see!”

Indeed, the herald’s heart ached as he glimpsed the superficial but undoubtedly painful gashes marring Gothmog’s precious, gleaming hide.

“I shall have words with them,” he grumbled, gnashing his flawless teeth.

“Do not trouble yourself on my account, my sweetling,” Gothmog assured him quickly as he tried to squirm away from the inquisitive fingers ghosting across his skin and threatening to undo his carefully constructed façade of good manners and gentle words.

“They are my responsibility,” Eönwë opined. “And so are you, you foolhardy creature! If you will not defend yourself, will you at least promise to call for me if this ever happens again?”

His stern gaze softened, and his pursed lips relaxed into a charming smile. “I quite like being your knight in shining armour.”

As if embarrassed by his own confession, he drew his wings up defensively.

“Keep talking,” Gothmog drawled. The cocky, teasing grin he flashed Eönwë now was genuine, despite his tangible discomfort.

“You’re not the only one who’s trying to impress by putting his best foot forward, and the worst thing is, you didn’t even notice…” Eönwë complained softly, rubbing a blood-stained hand along his chiselled jaw shamefacedly.

“What do you believe has escaped my notice? How competently you’ve handled this situation, getting rid of these unwelcome intruders with aplomb and grace? Or your indescribable beauty as you arrived on the scene like an avenging entity made of summer bliss and autumn storms? You underestimate me, my winged wonder, for I am humbled by every awe-inspiring detail of your appearance and demeanour!”

“Humbug,” Eönwë mumbled, flattered despite suspecting that he was being lovingly mocked. “I don’t need a gentleman right now, Gothmog. Tell me how bad it is…Should I bring you to Estë?”

“Pah! Estë!” Gothmog guffawed. “What for? To be fussed over endlessly? ‘tis but a scratch, I tell you.”

Lifting his arm slowly, he cupped Eönwë’s cheek tenderly. “Please, believe me when I say that neither your entirely unnecessary preoccupation nor your gentle care has gone unnoticed.”

Beneath the soothing, healing caress of the one he loved against all odds and despite the bitter feud engraved into their very souls, Gothmog finally relaxed.

“When you arrived, I couldn’t help thinking how marvellous it is to see you appear like a ray of sun cutting through the blinding, burning mist of battle and to know that you’ve not come to smite me.”

“I am on your side, you know?” Eönwë whispered, curling up against the living heat of the terrible fire demon.

“There are no sides anymore,” Gothmog reminded him, quoting the announcement that had allowed them to meet and reconnect once more.

“Nevertheless…”

“Yes,” Gothmog yawned, slinging his arm around his beloved hero. “Thank you!”

-> Masterlist

Lots of love from me! (I shall be busy this weekend, but I theoretically am still willing to write something for this <3)

@fellowshipofthefics You didn't think that I'd skip this one, did you? LOL

[criticalamityz]

first kiss

[comrade-onion]

Some more advice to the students ❤️🇵🇸

[pandasaurio-espacial]

Listen yes March is an asshole but if someone showed up, donated a worm to the museum and everyone acted like they were the best thing since sliced bread I'd be mad too

[catshinji]

If you are an Australian resident:

There is currently a petition open on the Australian Parliament's government website, calling for a ceasefire and an end to Israel's occupation of Palestine.

After four weeks of collecting signatures, the petition will be directly submitted to the House of Representatives, where a minister will be requested to respond.

As far as petitions go, this one is probably our best option. It is the only way that we, as individuals, are able to directly make requests from the House.

If you are a resident or citizen of Australia, please sign the petition below:

>> Petition: Call for a Ceasefire and an End to Israeli Occupation

After signing, you will receive an email asking you to confirm your signature. You will need to confirm, otherwise your signature will not be counted.

Almost all major cities are marching tomorrow (Sun, Nov 19). For more information, as well as other upcoming events and rallies in Australia, please visit APAN here.

Edit - reblogs are now off, as the petition closed on December 13th. It's now awaiting presentation to the House of Representatives.