#SO NORMALLLLLLL

[honeyhueym]

The road to me is something I’m always watching

[maedhrosdefender]

screaming. sobbing. crying. throwing up. violently ill. tearing the floorboards up. ripping my hair out. alkakh. alkhdlkahd. agh. AGHH.

A no-pressure prompt for you: something with Maedhros and Maglor, maybe post-Thangorodrim? this isn’t very specific hopefully it works ❤️

The body on the bed is not his brother’s. It cannot be.

The hair is not right. It is too drab, too brown, too thin. The face, cheekbones too sharp, the eyes so deeply sunken in, skin falling about them as loose folds of cloth. Nelyo had had thick eyelashes, copper and curling playfully upwards, and the body has none. The lips— the lips are thin and cracked, slashed over with two criss-crossing cuts, half-healed. 

The poor wretch. It is not him. It cannot be him. 

But Káno cannot blame them. Cannot blame Findekáno for bringing it back with him, cannot blame Ñolofinweë for calling him. They do not know Nelyo like he does, the body does resemble him. It is the shape of the head, the square jaw. The one ear that is not torn to shreds, the one that curls back, as Nelyo’s had. The body is unusually tall and broad-shouldered, though the arms are so thin they look insectoid, though the knees look swollen as twisted root. 

The left hand — the only hand— has a scar over the palm, thin and white. In Aman, when they were children, Nelyo had cut his hand helping mother pick up shards of broken pottery. It had healed just so, that same thin little curve, as a scythe or a question mark. The body bears a similar mark. 

The body bears the same mark.

The body— 

Káno backs away so sharply he sees not where he is going. He steps on Ñolofinwë’s foot, his back hitting his uncle’s chest. 

It is not him, he wants to say, you called me in error, Uncle, for I know my blood. 

But then the body moves. It has a jerky way of moving; one sharp movement to jam its elbows against its ribcage, then a sharp, shaky breath, one exhale broken down into several weak gusts of air, and it heaves its head, neck held stiffly, up. Turns to look at Káno with familiar silver-grey eyes. There are freckles on that white skin, buried between the wrinkles.  

Alive. Alive.  

It makes him think of when they had first seen orcs. Orcs whose limbs bent in ways limbs should not bend, whose jaws hung from their faces at strange, half-turned angles. Who radiated pain in each broken grunt and shout, the sort of pain that is sharp to the touch. They should not move, Káno had thought, they should not live. 

“Káno,” the body rasps, in his brother’s voice, “Káno, Káno, Káno.” 

The face lights up. The cuts on his lips bleed at the force of the smile, the skin folds in new and strange ways. He is missing teeth. One of his upper incisors, his left canine.

He is missing a hand. He is smiling, with such pure joy as Káno has not seen since the darkening, has not seen in this land. He is smiling, and he says Káno’s name. He is missing a hand. 

Káno falls to his knees, taking Nelyo’s remaining hand in his. Kisses the bruises knuckles, the broken, bleeding fingernails, the little twisting scar on the palm. The hand is clean. Someone has cleaned it, has washed blood and dirt off the fingers, has rubbed sweet-smelling lotion into the skin.  Someone has braided his hair. Someone has wrapped a deep blue blanket about his shoulders, tucking it into a silver clip. 

“Brother,” he says, and his voice sounds worse than Nelyo’s, a ragged, breaking thing, “Nelyo— Maitimo, Varda forgive me, Maitimo.” 

He should not cry. He has heard so, in the halls of healing, in the encampments they have set up in this new land. Cry not. Hide your fear, and your anguish, and show only your hope. Wounds of the flesh should not be allowed to become wounds of the spirit. 

He cries, feels his shoulders shaking with it, horrible sobs— loud, wailing things, sure to hurt his brother, to hurt this, and he cannot help it. He is ever aware of the breath in his lungs, the air he draws in and lets go as song. He had once amazed his cousins with how long he could hold his breaths under water.

There is not enough room in his chest, now. He sucks in air desperately, but he cannot hold it. 

Nelyo reaches for him with the stump of his hand, those same horrible, jerky movements. Sways. He cannot sit up right. Ñolofinwë steps delicately around them, his steps making no sound on the bare wooden floor, and comes to steady Nelyo, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. 

“I am here,” Nelyo says, the stump brushing awkwardly against Káno’s shoulder. He closes his hand around Káno’s fingers, his thumb brushing over Káno’s knuckles. There is no strength left in it. No strength left in him. “I am here, Káno.” 

Káno catches a breath and drags it into his lungs. Holds it there, even as it tries to run from him. 

“Forgive me,” he breathes, “Nelyo, forgive me. I thought— forgive me.” 

He can feel the shape of his brother’s words. Can hear the ghost of his voice, patient and measured. How often, these days, he hears his brother’s ghost. There is naught to forgive, the Nelyo in his head says, his voice warm as the treelight, I was not angry, Káno. 

Slowly, painfully, Nelyo pulls his hand away from him. Reaches to smooth Káno’s hair back from his face. A strand of it has stuck to his cheek, wet with tears and already crusting over. 

“You are forgiven,” he says, “I forgave you long since, Káno.” 

And it is right, the cadence; the way he says, the warmth that clings yet to his voice, the slight of deliberation between each word, as though he chooses them with the utmost care. But not the words themselves. 

Káno climbs into bed with him. His brother leans on him, absurdly light; Káno fears to bruise bone should he embrace him. For a little while they do not speak. Káno tries not to think of the blood, the scars, the drab, brownish hair. But is almost worse to see the freckles and the smile, to hear his brother’s voice. 

Findekáno slips into the room then, settling silently at his brother’s other side. The right side. The side with the stump and the bandages and the blood yet dotting the sheets. Káno spares him a glance. He is little changed in profile, though the ice has left him thinner and wearier, and, though new upon the land, he wears the familiar scars of orc blades his hand and his cheek. 

Struck with sudden feeling, Káno leans over Nelyo to grab him by the collar. 

“Káno—“ Findekáno starts, but he cuts him off. 

He kisses him, kisses him though some part of him hates him already. Their cheeks brush against each other, and his tears smudge his cousin’s golden face-paint. He does not think he could ever be more grateful than he is now, cannot imagine a greater debt. 

Findekáno stares at him as he pulls away, his eyes wide and owlish, lips still slightly open. Then he laughs, and that makes Nelyo laugh too, a strange, huffing sound that seems at risk of crumbling into coughs. 

“Cousin,” Findekáno says, laughing yet, “what a greeting that was!” 

“He has grown quite strange in this land,” Nelyo rasps, again taking Káno’s hand, “I almost did not know him when he came, so much he looked as some wise and noble king, hair of raven and crown of gold! Look, brother, how you have changed!” 

No, Kánafinwë thinks desperately, feeling the crown upon his head as he shakes it, no, no. I haven’t. 

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thank you for the prompt!! <3 this was very fun & I really enjoyed trying to figure out Maglor's voice for the first time

[ripperdrake]

yes i WILL draw them queening out one day

[quillkiller]

might fuck around and stop gatekeeping my wolfstar

[oarfishing]

yeah yeah fear and arousal is great but what about disgust and arousal. the feeling of familiarity and something completely foreign. revolting and intimate, monstrous and sweet, violating and loving, like a fever-induced nightmare where somehow the breathing down your neck does more than just make you sweat. hatred and attraction. it's foul and it's disgusting to feel something so uncanny and alien touch you in this way but you can't help but react to the exoticism of it, a union between some dead-eyed, shifting, pulsing thing and a tormented beauty unable to resist. is that your voice? in your head? are you even human? were you ever?

[starrysharks]

i can't say this on twitter because They Will Get Me but what is in the anime water that makes cis dudes so. like that

[sodrippy]

transitioning just to escape the pmdd

[ftmpuppyslvt]

ugh trans bodies are so hot

[deadbeandrop]

i swear to god slinkman the slug that you are

[yaekiss]

casually turns on anon even if we’re mutuals because im. small and shy.

so um. would you recommend DoL??? I’ve been hearing about it more and more but I can’t seem to find anything about the gameplay or where to play it so I’m curious!!

,,. kisses u bye bye

HELLO ANON MUTUAL!! (totally not trying to guess who u r rn...) I rambled a bit too much (and the game is nsfw to begin with) so it'll be under the cut!!

Would I recommend DoL? I've only been playing it for 2 days so far (thank u for the relentless DoL posting andi, you've opened my eyes 2 sydney <3) LMAO so I'm probably not the most reliable source but I think if you're into darker content (i.e. noncon, kidnapping, literally turning into a cowperson), yeah go for it! There's also a setting to set the game to a softer mode !

Gameplay-wise, I guess the best way to sum up what I've been doing is balancing the different effects of the actions your playable character carries out? (i.e. do you want to confront someone and risk an unsavory situation or ignore it and add stress to your character?)

But it's been fun figuring out what choices help progress the relationship between you and your love interest! And if you're ever stuck somewhere too miserable, there's always previous game saves to help you retract your choices (idc if I have 50 saves rn, I'm determined 2 see through my pure Sydney route!!!!)

UHH ANYWAYS hopefully my rambles made sense/helped a lil LMFAO,,, other more experienced DoL players if you're seeing this...... feel free to add in info in the replies ILHKDLSLA

[ughmulder]

I will be celibate forever because I am crazy 🥲🤩🥲🤩🥲🤩

[suenitos]

…

[angered-box]

im normal im normal im normal

[yellowhearther0]

i am going to explode into a million pieces

[llegato]

I HATE THEM SO FUCKING MUCH WHY CANT THEY COMMUNICATE AND BE HAPPY AND STOP BEING SO VAGUE AND

[koifsssh]

OH MY GOD??? OH MY GODDDDD... THIS IS DELICIOUS THANK YOU??? LOOK AT MY GUY GO... OH MY GODSD THE BACKGROUND IS SO GOOD

Sheriff I am on my hands and knees. THANK YOU OH MY GOD. I LOVE THIS SO MUCH.

GOD BLESS YOU, TRULY

so this was supposed to be a simple art trade but i uhhhh actually made a background and really enjoyed making it waaaaahhhhhhHh

also *attempting* to do graphic design on an ipad and procreate is a fucking nightmare how do peoplE DO THIS SHIT JUST USE A FUGGN COMPUTER

but here you go @koifsssh !! i hope i did rainy some justice 😭 🫶