#Wild... wild my beloved... why are you like this
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"It's so cold without you."
Wounded Wild my beloved</3
She's definitely my favorite Princess design-wise. Imagine becoming a tree (or a whole environment I guess? Becoming THE WILD), fused with the person you hate most.. and then they separate themself from you and then refuse to slay you after everything.
Slay the Princess belongs to blacktabbygames
I belong to Envy 💟
Bonus 1 : It took me so long to make this because I didn't know how to make tree texture and ended up making the tree parts look like muscle tissue - which was obviously not the vibe I was going for - and I had to tinker with the colors and stuff so it doesn't look like she just got skinned alive.
Bonus 2 : My friend asked me why she doesn't have any clothes on. I replied with "What am I supposed to do? Play dress up with the darn tree?"
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Wild Life spoilers below! Like, a lot of spoilers.
So, Flower Husbands and Boat Boys fans, how're we feeling?
Jimmy asking Scott to look at his butt and Scott dropping everything to comply, then saying Jimmy's butt is maybe a bit bigger than the G's base, and Jimmy going in the most flirtatious voice ever, "Aww, stop it!" Why are they like this? You all know I'm a die-hard Ranchers truther, but oh my word.
And then Etho "tough guy" Slab coming to Joel to be like, "Joel, Bdubs is bullying me, come help!" and Joel going along with it IMMEDIATELY??? He didn't even question it, just went, that tracks, and went to go bully Bdubs on Etho's behalf. Not to mention Joel seeing the bamboozlers in boats and going, "Hey, that's mine and Etho's thing! I have to go find Etho!" He's so obsessed fr. (Also, Etho coming over to warn Gem and Joel Tango was on the hunt? "Tough guy" my ass, this guy physically cannot restrain himself from being nice and also obsessed.)
Also. Can we talk about Tango real quick (least surprising thing I've ever said)? This guy. He's almost as bad as Skizz at killing! How does he EVER get as far as he does? I say this with the maximum possible amount of love in my heart, Tango is my beloved, but goodness my gracious, he's such a wet cat of a man. The poor guy is so pathetic! I'm glad he can stay smiling and having fun throughout it all though, he's such a good sport. I did genuinely believe he was about to go out of the series about three times in his episode though.
I also loved Gem trying so hard to help the reds and yellows kill her without actively letting them do it was adorable. She was genuinely proud of Mumbo when he finally got her! I love how she interacts with everyone, especially when they're trying to kill her. She's either silent in concentration, sighing in exasperation, or just straight-up giggling with glee. She's having so much fun in this series, I love it. I'm so happy for her.
I loved the way people started gunning for Grian specifically cause he made the series. They're finally rising up against the Watchers, finally taking control of their own lives and narratives. Combined with the hc that each of the wildcards are an aspect of the Watchers (I'm assuming this is something about them being outside time? Idk), and this season is building up some insane lore possibilities.
#Ashlley rambles#mine#wild Life Spoilers#Jimmy#solidaritygaming#Scott#smajor1995#flower Husbands#Etho#ethoslab#Joel#smallishbeans#gem#geminitay#tango#tangotek#Skizz#skizzleman#mumbo#mumbo jumbo#Grian#wild life smp#life series#trafficblr#trafficshipping
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#SPOILERS
ok so I watched arcane s2 act 1 and my immediate reaction is mostly mixed -- I think there was gorgeous art and strong individual emotional beats but I think it all got watered down by everything else -- I did LIKE it, I guess (?) and am reserving full judgement for the whole season until the next 2 acts release, but yeah.
warning for SPOILERS and also critiques below:
the deluge of new characters I have no reason to care about, and whom i am given no specific reason to care about (besides the itty bitty one, and that's just bc they are a child) does not hit. I dojt get it. why are these people special or chosen for the strike squad. they're just randos, and fangirls and one of them is a random dude you all seem to have grabbed off the street (?) also who tf is amara. was she even in season 1 at all?
the integrated music videos felt significantly LESS integrated this season than the last. last season it felt like the "music video" segments were just like.... really well done and stylized parts of the show, here they feel more like clipshows or standalone music videos during which the actual show takes a pause. some of them do advance the plot and all are gorgeously done but like, I dunno. feels a bit much, honestly, especially in a show that NEEDS to be incredibly economical with its time
relating to that, it feels as if nothing really happened at all besides setup, and I guess that was perhaps narratively necessary, but using THREE episodes of a 9 episode season to set up the plot feels..... REALLY wasteful, especially when i feel like those 3 episodes didnt have a tight plot OR tight character focus. everything feels very loose. the timeskip between s1 and s2 is like.... idk! why did we skip that. why didnt we just skip farther. how is Vi suddenly beloved by topside those bitches hate her!!! anyway. there is a lot happening and a lot being set up and, as i said before, a LOT of new characters being introduced and I'm not very emotionally invested in most of them. The differences between act 1 s1 and act 1 s2 are feeling incredibly stark right now.
To me, Arcane has always been a character driven work, so I can forgive it of plot issues if the emotional focus and character arcs are strong. I.... didn't feel that here! and even the big character moments didn't quite hit. for me. like ok CaitVi kissed. but like. they've known each other for a week? Why are they acting married? The most resonant and emotionally intense part of the CaitVi arc in act 1 was when Caitlyn HIT HER with HER GUN, in a way that felt deeply reminiscent of how encorcers probably hit Vi when she was in prison. And that was like at the very end. sorry but the kiss just did not hit for me. sorry. so sorry. you can kill me with Hammers if yuo want to
A lot of characters seem to be making plot centric decisions that simply do not feel within their character. Vi becoming an enforcer -- I literally do not care about the game, it is emotionally inconceivable for show!Vi to do be super down with gassing the undercity. Jinx and Sevika suddenly being buddy buddy is weird, even thought i LIKE it, it just feels.... fast. Jinx's arc, emotionally, feels the best and most consistant, and I feel like there's so much setup happening it isn't given the space it needs to breathe. Caitlyn becoming a facist is like.... fine, I guess. I really like the emotional conflict this inserts to the story but again it just feels inconsistant with her lifelong characterization as someone who is out of place on the force. also didn't she actually get fired lol. why is there a Kiramann supercomputer.
a lot of stuff just feels emotionally really off. Cait going wild with anger in her grief is fine, but then it feels.... bad that the redhead bitch who's CHILD Jace KILLED last season is a villian for wanting revenge also? maybe this is just an inherent weakness of the genre. or the source material. or whatever. i mean season 1 was pretty enforcer-critical at least in the first 2 acts. sorry for wanting a story made by people with money to be consistant in its negative framing of cops :/
l am deeply confused about the Noxian angle here -- I think it serves a meta narrative function of giving Topside and Bottom (aka, all the characters we care about, who hate each other rn) a common enemy to rally against, but there is just. a lot going on, honestly. too much? only time will tell. this all makes me deeply concerned/curious about the governmental system of Piltover though. why is Caitlyn like the town King now. why are they not electing new councilors.
don't even get me started on viktor being undercity jesus
Anyway. things I liked: the opening, especially its contrast to season 1. Jinx & Vi's fistfight was incredible I just wish Vi felt more emotionally consistant BEFORE it happened. I really LIKE jinx being given essentially a second chance in the form of saving and caring for a child in a situation that puts HER in a reversed position from her youth. like OK it definitely feels way out of left field but like, that's fine I guess. I like what they're doing with the kid. the art is gorgeous as always. I love how the enforcer squad is represented like hunting hounds, coming out of the gas. unfortunately i think their gas masks are wildly erotic. anyway. what was i saying?
that's my immediate thoughts. I'm definitely open for comments/explaining, but i really don't like the "it makes sense if you play the game/pay attention to LoL meta" kind of explanations I see thrown around -- it's a narrative weakness to be relying on viewers to know LoL lore, especially on the heels of season 1, which didn't need viewers to know anything.
#media blogging#arcane spoilers#arcane season 2 spoilers#spoilers#UGH.#anyway is anyone else feeling this. i hope act 2 hits but yeah
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This is an absolute masterpiece. I'm actually past capitals, and back to lowercase, I am in such awe. This is one of those things I wish I'd written, it's so gorgeous, so artfully written, the imagery is so beautiful, and you made a blowjob seem like poetry, absolutely astounding??
Okay I have many quotes (I actually copied over 30, it must have been your entire fic, so I've heavily edited down to my absolute favourite bits)
“A messenger of the Valar. A being of pure light, sent to unlock his grandest abilities.” You turn around in his arms, and wrap yours around his neck, grinning. “I don���t believe I’ve ever seen Celebrimbor quite so close to spending in his breeches before.”
Poor Brimby, I mean, who wouldn't when faced with Annatar appearing out of the smoke 😂 he got me good, never mind anyone actually standing close to him 😂
“Not even the Maker himself is above admiring true beauty,” he says, lifting your chin with a gentle knuckle as his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “And you, my lady, are the most exquisite of his creations.”
The way I would die??? The way I did die just reading this??
The most skilled of Elven artists could not capture the exquisite painting which graces your roving eyes. ‘Perfect’ doesn’t begin to describe him—not that you ever regard him as anything less. But in this specific form, he is the very picture of Elven beauty and grace, likely to enchant the eye of most, if not all beings of your kind.
Oh lord oh my god he is gorgeous and the picture you paint of him is sublime, I'm in love??
He is much smoother than Halbrand was. The hair on his body is less evident, as light in color as the blond tresses framing his face and not as coarse to the touch, you determine whilst trailing your fingers down his arm, shoulder to wrist. He is no doubt appealing, but you had been quite fond of the dark smattering of hair on Halbrand’s chest, and will surely miss the equally dark trail leading the tantalizing way between his navel and cock.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
THE WAY I DIED
Halbrand my beloved, your chest hair is immortal and beyond compare
You look up at your husband, standing above you in all his glory, the light of candles catching in his fair tresses in an ethereal halo. Yet most disarming are the pitch black depths of his eyes, trained onto you with devastating intensity.
What an absolutely gorgeous juxtaposition, I love this image so much!!!
“Well, my lady?” His tongue curls around the respectful title in such a way, it somehow sounds degrading. He tilts your chin even further back with a firm knuckle. “How is it that you worship your gods?”
I yelled!! Yes we love both, let him do both, worship and degrade us, why am I so feral for this??
You are free to surrender yourself to him, and few things make you feel so powerful as his craving to be adored by you.
Hell yes hell yes hell yes it's the craving for me!!! He loves the attention, needs her like air, godddd it's perfect
“I have one god, and one alone,” you murmur, holding his gaze as you embrace his legs, clinging to the flesh just below his buttocks and striving to look up despite the angle at which you then bend. “I kneel only to him,” you lay a kiss above one knee, “I worship only at his feet,” then the other. “I would kill for him,” you kiss him mid-thigh on one leg, “I would die for him,” then the other. “I would live,” you place a kiss right to the side of his cock, “through endless torment,” as well as the other side, “only for him.” You rise on your knees slightly, and press your lips below his navel, pleading with your eyes. For what, it matters not. For anything he might give.
Holy mother of divine sweet jesus, I cannot tell you how much I love this, I died, I was reborn, I died again
The growl which leaves your husband’s throat is more wild beast than Elf. [...] He wants in.
“Show me,” he commands, his tip nudging at your quivering lips. “Show me how you adore me.”
I YELLED
Bestial Sauron, losing his damn mind, "show me how much you adore me", I am so feral for this adoring husband you write so well, he is sublime
You wish he would reward your efforts with the groans and gasps you know he keeps lodged within his throat. You want to rip them out with your teeth, if need be.
YASSSSSSSSS
“Such beauty,” he muses gruffly, catching your tear with a gentle thumb even as he keeps thrusting. “Such ruin.”
God this is gorgeous, "such ruin"???? He loves it, she loves it, they're both so unwell for each other, you can feel just how perfect they are for each other with each tiny look, action, piece of dialogue 🙌👌🤌👏
His mind nudges at yours, such a stark contrast between the immaterial caress and his ruthless handling of you. The answer he seeks is written in your eyes, your mind, the same message ringing out over and over from every corner of your being: Grip me, keep me, ruin me. Spill in my mouth. Fill it with your taste. Give me everything.
THIS
THIS ENDED ME, I AM ACTUALLY DEAD NOW
He looks for her consent and finds nothing wanting, she's right there with him, and the contrast between his roughness and gentleness is sending me
“My love,” he breathes out, the lust in his gaze having melted into something akin to awe. “Oh, my love. How desperately you crave my pleasure.” His chest begins to heave, eyes growing feral with fresh hunger. “As I crave yours.”
🙌👌🤌👏🙌👌🤌👏🙌👌🤌👏
Even in the heat of your smuttiest scenes, there is such gorgeous emotion, idk how you do it, sublime
Oh, the audacious little arse of a Maia (whom you would not have any other way).
Pfffffft the way I cackled, he really is 😂😂😂
And what a wonderous view indeed. From here, he is laid out below you like a grand feast, offering to the pleasure of your eye every little twitch of the muscles in his neck and abdomen as you give his length a few preparatory pumps. His hair is splayed out on your pillow in fair waves, like the halo of the divine being he now claims to be. You can nearly see why Morgoth had so wished to corrupt him, when he truly was a being of pure light. Though in Morgoth’s place, you would never have been so foolish as to fail in cherishing Mairon’s loyalty like the most precious gift that it was. In Morgoth’s place, you’d have punished your beloved servant with nothing but the most wicked of pleasures, and rewarded his terrible feats in your name with a throne beside yours and a crown placed upon his splendid head.
This whole paragraph is sublime, what a feast indeed, the image of him is so beautiful, and imagining herself in Morgoth's place?? he deserves to be rewarded, let's reward him 😍🥵
“Good.” Your husband’s smile drips with pride. “I made it for you.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He has made this form, having fully recovered his ability to deliberately choose the shape and size of each part of himself, and—
“Oh,” you let out, your face crumpling with adoration as you melt on the inside. “You��ve gone through such trouble…”
SHUT UP I LOVE IT, OF COURSE HE MADE HIMSRLF IN AN IMAGE SHE WOULD ADORE, HIS FLESH TO FIT HERS, I AM DYING
“No trouble at all, my love,” he says, hands roaming over your thighs. “I made each part of myself to suit my purpose. I desire no offspring, and have no bodily needs apart from those awakened by my wife. So, you see, the sole purpose of my cock... is to pleasure you. Us.” He brings your hand to his lips, the kiss he presses to your knuckles as reverent as though he were greeting you in the midst of an elegant ballroom rather than naked in your bed, buried inside you to the hilt. “I worship only at the feet of my goddess as well.”
Um okay????? Fuck I'm running out of new things to say but I need you to know how much I adored this whole section, they're so mad for each other my heart hurts
“All the heart I have left is yours,” he says in a ragged breath, nails digging into your shoulderblades. “Yours, always yours.”
Fuck me??? "All the heart I have left is yours"???? Amazing, stunning, breathtaking
...as though you mean to cage him within you for the rest of all time, and what a tempting prospect that is.
THE TEMPTATION YES PLEASE
“I was ill,” you murmur suddenly, cheek still pressed to his heart. [...]
This whole next section where she describes her fantasy/illusion/dream, which I love btw, like her brain has to fill in the gap he's left to stay remotely sane, anyway the whole thing was so beautifully written it hurt my heart, but the end where she tells him it was wrong, it felt so right. Of course this isn't their love story, they were forged in flames and darkness and this fairytale doesn't suit them (I love it anyway idc)
It's like "in another life I'd have been happy to do laundry with you" but this is where they were meant to be and they relish in it.
“But I would have delighted in wearing something as simple as a bracelet made of grassblades, had I known them to have been entwined by your hands."
I have a very special fondness for this line, he doesn't need his forge to make her beautiful things, and she doesn't need the finest jewels from him to want to wear them, my heart!!!!
“I was not as you described, indeed,” he murmurs in the end. “Even with my original... disposition, I’d not have hesitated to make my desire known, should I have had any such inclinations towards another. I have always hated a waste of good resources—time is no exception.”
YES KING GO CLAIM YOUR QUEEN IN ANY TIMELINE HELL YEAAAH
“...whether you were to return in a day or a century. Or several,” you add quietly, holding onto your husband just that little bit tighter. His forehead creases with the same deep ache in your chest as he nudges your nose with his.
Ooooof it's the yearning for me!!! The separation doing nothing but bringing them closer together!!
“I’d have made my desire for you known,” he repeats his earlier words in your ear, hushed but fervent, “and I’d never have bowed before Morgoth. For no promise of power could have swayed me to risk your safety. And we’d have stayed servants of the Valar, pure and obedient. It is only as we are now, my love, that we shall be masters of our own fate, and rule above all others.”
YESSSSSSS ALL THE POWER IN THE WORLD BUT HER SAFETY WOULD BE PARAMOUNT, YESSSSS
As you drift to sleep, you swear your husband’s caress holds the ghost of a tender petal brushing your skin.
Oh my lord this did me in, absolutely sublime, yes queen give us everything 👏🤌👌🙌
Danielle I am in awe, this was amazing, your best yet for sure 💜💜💜
As we are now (Sauron x fem!Elf!reader)
-> in which you explore your husband’s new form, and it leads to you breaching a rather delicate subject
Warnings: evil!reader, smut, oral (Sauron receiving, he gets rough but reader is completely on board with it), p in v, dom!Sauron but it’s kind of back and forth, reader and Sauron being deep in denial about their desire for a bit of normalcy
Note: part of the evil!reader collection. If you’re new, reader has been married to Sauron since before Adar’s betrayal and infiltrated herself as a smith of Eregion, where she awaited her husband’s return.
Mature content below the cut - minors DNI!!!
You burst into delighted laughter the moment you are in the privacy of your own chamber. The light, the smoke, the speech, the look—be still your black little heart and your poor loins, the look.
It was a good thing you had worked as closely as you did with Celebrimbor and so-called Halbrand before your husband had been forced to leave Eregion, for the Elven Rings were in great part your achievement as well, and so Celebrimbor had deemed that you had just as much right to learn what had become of them upon Halbrand’s return. It was also a good thing you were standing behind Celebrimbor, and that he was entirely enraptured with your husband’s divine appearance as ‘Annatar’ made his grand entrance, because the hand with which you had covered your grin could hardly conceal the shameless glee in your eyes.
To see his deceit at work is always a joy. But even greater is the delight of knowing he shall join you in your chamber shortly, just as soon as he is finished entertaining the awe-struck Celebrimbor for the night. You stand at your window, hoping your wait will not be long. You haven’t had the chance to be alone with your husband since he had returned to Eregion, and somehow the last moments before the promise of reunion always feel like the longest.
He moves within the shadows, as quietly as them. You do not need to hear the opening and closing or your door, or even the steps approaching you, to know that he is there, even before arms snake around your waist from behind and lips press to your neck. You chuckle, leaning into your husband.
“A messenger of the Valar. A being of pure light, sent to unlock his grandest abilities.” You turn around in his arms, and wrap yours around his neck, grinning. “I don’t believe I’ve ever seen Celebrimbor quite so close to spending in his breeches before.”
“How crudely you speak of your dear friend,” your husband pretends to admonish, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Can you fault a poor Elf for falling to his knees in the face of his greatest desires coming true?”
“Fault him? Of course not.” You lower your voice to a sensual purr, leaning in so that your breath warms his lips as you speak. “In fact, if I were him, I’d have done far more than kneel.” You shrug. “Or tried, at the very least. Surely, an emissary of the Valar is above such worldly temptations.”
His lips are only a moment too slow to catch your teasing ones. You nimbly slip from his hold and walk past him—to no destination whatsoever, for you know you are to be caught nearly at once and relish the short anticipation. You still give a small yelp when he catches your wrist and spins you around, pulling you flush against him. There’s hunger in his eyes, and playfulness, as he secures your waist into a hold not so easily escapable as the last.
“Not even the Maker himself is above admiring true beauty,” he says, lifting your chin with a gentle knuckle as his thumb brushes your bottom lip. “And you, my lady, are the most exquisite of his creations.”
He can pay you a thousand compliments, and you would still swoon each and every time. On the inside, at the very least, for at the moment you simply remove his hand from your mouth.
“Is that all you wish? To admire me?” you tease still, ignoring the impatient tick in your husband’s jaw. “It would be such a pity if the Lord of Gifts did not receive some form of gratitude in return for the blessings he carries. Does one as pure as you even know of what I speak?”
You hold his gaze as you catch the tip of his thumb between your teeth, giving the pad the lightest lick. Your husband’s throat bobs as he watches.
“Do enlighten me,” he rasps out.
And you fully intend to. His lips are so plump and tempting, close enough that you can all but taste them. You haven’t kissed your husband since before he left for Adar’s camp in Mordor, an obscenely long amount of time already.
“With pleasure,” you whisper—close, so close to giving you both the meeting of lips you so crave...
Not quite.
You push his chest, just enough for him to let you take a step backward with a frustrated little breath. His eyes hold a glint of warning, hunger that might just surface to end your little game if you push it a smidge too far over the edge. But in the end, you like to play, and he likes to indulge you. And it isn’t as though you are dallying about as you slide his outer robe off his shoulders and down his arms. In fact, you are quite unceremoniously hasty, and so your husband straightens his arms by his sides, letting the fabric fall to the floor in a graceless heap around his feet.
Now, for the grey robe beneath, covering him from neck to ankle, humbly adorned with only a simple pattern along the collar... you could, in theory, remove it the old-fashioned way. But you don’t feel particularly inclined to go through the hassle of lifting all that material over his head, and something wild is stirring in your chest, and it’s in your nature, after all, to do things just because.
You produce a dagger from a concealed pocket of your dress, grab your husband’s collar, hook the blade into it and rip! goes the dull fabric with a yank of your hand. Down to his waist the destruction continues, tear after tear as you pull the material away from his body so as not to nick the skin you so greedily reveal with the slashes of your blade.
He does not flinch once, save for a coy lift at the corner of his lips as you toss away the dagger and relieve him of the ruined garb, adding it to the pile of crumpled fabric on the floor. You pay it no more mind than you do his now bare torso, determined to admire him in all his splendor when you finally take him in, head to toe.
“You speak of giving something in return,” he remarks quite casually as your hands next reach straight for the fastenings of his trousers, “yet all you seem to do is take—the very clothes off my back, no less.”
You smirk up at him. “Well, I should like to lay my eyes upon the gift for which I am to repay you first.”
You pull his trousers down in one quick move, proudly stripping him of the last shred of divine decency with which he had clad himself for Celebrimbor’s benefit. He cooperates smoothly as you crouch to yank the pants off his legs one by one, then toss his modest footwear to the side as well, and when you rise back to your full height, your husband stands before you with not a stitch on him.
The most skilled of Elven artists could not capture the exquisite painting which graces your roving eyes. ‘Perfect’ doesn’t begin to describe him—not that you ever regard him as anything less. But in this specific form, he is the very picture of Elven beauty and grace, likely to enchant the eye of most, if not all beings of your kind.
He is much smoother than Halbrand was. The hair on his body is less evident, as light in color as the blond tresses framing his face and not as coarse to the touch, you determine whilst trailing your fingers down his arm, shoulder to wrist. He is no doubt appealing, but you had been quite fond of the dark smattering of hair on Halbrand’s chest, and will surely miss the equally dark trail leading the tantalizing way between his navel and cock.
Speaking of which—that part of him is as glorious as ever, and already quite visibly eager. It would require but a graze of your fingers to grow into his full hardness. But you purposefully avoid that particular bit of enticing flesh as your fingers next trace a delicate line up his thigh, taking a detour along his hip instead. You let your nails scrape his skin ever so slightly as they venture higher, feeling his firm abdomen twitch faintly beneath your touch. He is sculpted with perfect balance, the lines of his muscles painting a stunning picture of bodily strength without too dramatic of a bulk, still allowing for elegance. Your fingers ascend to his chest, traveling across its alluring plane, and come to graze one nipple, earning a hitch in your husband’s breath. Otherwise, he stands perfectly still, subjecting himself to your quiet exploration.
You circle him slowly, your touch uninterrupted as your fingers trace his skin on a path to his shoulder blades. In the meantime, you release his newly long hair from the silver headpiece he had given himself, letting it fall onto the heap of clothes on the floor. You come to a halt facing his back, as beautifully muscled as the front, and—for the love of the Valar you have forsaken, there is nothing objectively different about the shape of his buttocks, but you swear they have grown even more enticing than before. You give one an appreciative caress, fingers following the plump curve of flesh between his upper thigh and lower back, before giving it a most satisfying squeeze.
Your husband releases a short huff of a chuckle. You press yourself against him, still groping his behind as you brush his hair over his shoulder to press a kiss to the top of his spine.
“I find myself in quite the predicament, I’m afraid,” you murmur into his skin. “So exquisite is the gift, I cannot imagine how I am to pay in kind.”
“A gift, by definition, is not paid,” your husband says, giving you a pointed look over his shoulder. “But you may begin by putting an end to this teasing.”
You grin, giving his behind a sharp pinch with just a bit of nail scratch. That finally earns you an undignified gasp from his throat, followed by a scolding tsk as you turn him around by the shoulders.
“I am merely beholding your ‘natural form’, my lord,” you mock Celebrimbor’s earlier words, caressing your husband’s face and chest as you meet his scalding gaze with your sensuous one. “So I may know how best to worship it.”
You all but lunge forward to catch his lips, finally, after the wait of separation as well as your self-imposed delay—
A large hand clamps around your neck. It is your husband, now, who keeps you at bay, lips hovering one tantalizing inch above yours as he grouses, “I believe you mentioned something about kneeling.”
He pushes down on your shoulders with just enough force that you gasp as your knees bend, dropping to the floor at once. He might as well have reached down your throat and ripped the breath from your lungs with his fingers. You look up at your husband, standing above you in all his glory, the light of candles catching in his fair tresses in an ethereal halo. Yet most disarming are the pitch black depths of his eyes, trained onto you with devastating intensity.
“Well, my lady?” His tongue curls around the respectful title in such a way, it somehow sounds degrading. He tilts your chin even further back with a firm knuckle. “How is it that you worship your gods?”
You swallow nothing at all, eyelids fluttering as you stare upwards like a believer at prayer. He does this sometimes, playing along until he doesn’t, flipping the tables and taking charge in the blink of an eye. It almost feels like a physical stroke of your clit, creamy arousal gushing from your core in an instant.
It’s such a slippery slope. The submission. The rawness of it. You’ve both known what it was to be at the mercy of another before, one who had no such thing as mercy. But you do not despair, and you are not afraid. For this is not Morgoth, nor are you a slave. You are free to surrender yourself to him, and few things make you feel so powerful as his craving to be adored by you.
“I have one god, and one alone,” you murmur, holding his gaze as you embrace his legs, clinging to the flesh just below his buttocks and striving to look up despite the angle at which you then bend. “I kneel only to him,” you lay a kiss above one knee, “I worship only at his feet,” then the other. “I would kill for him,” you kiss him mid-thigh on one leg, “I would die for him,” then the other. “I would live,” you place a kiss right to the side of his cock, “through endless torment,” as well as the other side, “only for him.” You rise on your knees slightly, and press your lips below his navel, pleading with your eyes. For what, it matters not. For anything he might give.
The growl which leaves your husband’s throat is more wild beast than Elf. He takes in his fists your hair and his own hard length, keeping you where he wants as he drags the tip of his cock from the base of your neck to your chin, as though splitting the skin upon the blade of his desire. Arousal smears a trail up your throat. He wants in.
“Show me,” he commands, his tip nudging at your quivering lips. “Show me how you adore me.”
As if you had not already. As if you do not always. But you are beyond glad to remind him. Your tongue darts past your lips to give the slit a sole lick. As he releases his cock to plant his hand onto your shoulder instead, you take hold of his length yourself to flatten it against his stomach. You spare a moment to admire it, so promisingly full and flushed with want, then press your lips to the underside, right at the base, and work your way to the tip with a string of doting kisses. How you love this most sensitive part of him, and cherish each and every twitch with which it responds to your affections.
His hands tense impatiently on your head and shoulder, but he needs not handle you into further action as you finally take his cockhead in your mouth, sucking gently. Then firmly, and over again, until you’re truly fucking him with your mouth, your hand working in tandem to cover the length you cannot swallow with each bob of your head.
The crease in his brow betrays his pleasure, though he stands above you tall and stoic as ever. Even when you swirl your tongue around his tip the way you know drives him wild, even when you reach underneath to fondle the sensitive sack at the base of his manhood. You wish he would reward your efforts with the groans and gasps you know he keeps lodged within his throat. You want to rip them out with your teeth, if need be. And so you take him deep, as deep as he can go inside your throat, all while piercing him with your wanton gaze.
Your husband curses. His fist in your hair tightens, tugs at the roots with just enough force that it stings most deliciously. Control is ripped from you once more as he drives his cock into your throat at his own merciless pace, and if you could, you would smile at your victory in breaking his composure. You grab hold of his buttocks, nails digging into the soft flesh as he buries himself in your mouth, over and over. You’ve gathered more than enough skill over your years together to withstand such an act whilst still drawing some air into your lungs, even if only the barest minimum. Still, a tear slides down your cheek, and you groan around his length, knowing the sound will only add to his pleasure.
“Such beauty,” he muses gruffly, catching your tear with a gentle thumb even as he keeps thrusting. “Such ruin.”
His mind nudges at yours, such a stark contrast between the immaterial caress and his ruthless handling of you. The answer he seeks is written in your eyes, your mind, the same message ringing out over and over from every corner of your being: Grip me, keep me, ruin me. Spill in my mouth. Fill it with your taste. Give me everything.
The enormity of your need for his pleasure is what does him in. He doesn’t stifle, doesn’t deny you the sound of his wrecked groan as he ceases upon a final thrust, cock shoved so deep down your throat that your nose is buried in the fair curls at his base. You shut your eyes as he spills and spills, relishing the throbbing of his flesh on your tongue and the essence of him gliding down your throat. Breathing can wait. Not forever, but for a while.
Your husband, of course, allows it long before you’d have truly struggled. But you still pant for breath the moment he pulls out, and your forehead drops to his thigh as you wipe the mess left on your chin. Not a moment later, your husband tilts your head back, demanding your misty eyes to meet his.
“My love,” he breathes out, the lust in his gaze having melted into something akin to awe. “Oh, my love. How desperately you crave my pleasure.” His chest begins to heave, eyes growing feral with fresh hunger. “As I crave yours.”
He bends down, grabs your waist and hoists you from the ground straight into his arms, at last claiming your lips as you wrap your legs around him with an elated moan. It is as though his end did nothing but spur him into wishing for another, this time whilst buried in your depths. Barely a moment later, he lays you down on your bed, his bare body pressing your clothed one into the mattress. His hips are already nestled between your legs, grinding relentlessly as you write and whine beneath his ravenous kisses of your mouth, then of any bare inch he finds of your neck and chest.
He fists his hands in the shoulders of your dress, and he needs no blade to rip the fabric down your chest unceremoniously. You gasp, mildly indignated—you had been rather fond of that piece. But the sacrifice is well worth it for the unbridled desire on his face as he admires your bare breasts, as though it were his first time seeing them. “This is all I could think of,” he rasps out, “whilst I stood waiting at the gate. What I would do once I could finally touch my wife’s skin, her flesh...” He kneads one breast, staring in marvel as that wonderfully pliant part of you yields beneath his fingers, “This lovely, soft flesh of yours. Look how it calls to me.”
His thumb swipes over one pebbled nipple, indeed straining upward as though reaching for your husband’s touch, just before he descends upon it with the heat of his mouth.
“Yes,” you moan, arching into him greedily. “But my flesh has remained unchanged... for centuries,” you strive to argue as his tongue lavishes that most sensitive peak, teeth tugging in a mean tease at the flesh around it. “Tonight,” you gather your resolve, “I was supposed... to be exploring... you!”
With a great push on that last word, you flip him onto his back. Your husband lets loose a wicked laugh as his head hits the pillow and you roll on top of him, panting.
“It is hardly my fault that you are so easily distracted.” He grins up at you without an ounce of shame. Oh, the audacious little arse of a Maia (whom you would not have any other way).
“As if you are any better,” you retort, and swiftly prove yourself right. You dive much like a vulture aiming to snatch its prey, one hand sinking in his hair as you catch the brand new pointed tip of his ear between your teeth and tug, hard. Your husband gives a sharp grunt, hands flying to grip your hips.
“Hm, I’ve missed these,” you say, suckling at the tender skin as if to soothe the sting you purposely inflicted whilst your husband groans beneath you. “Remember when I made you spill simply from biting them?”
“A most admirable feat,” he growls, “for which I have not the patience at the moment.”
He means to lift his torso off the bed, but you hold him down with a firm hand pressed to his chest. “Ah-ah,” you shake your head, slowly rising to sit up astride him. “I wish to stay right here,” you say, gathering the skirts of your dress pooling over his crotch to help yourself to his newly straining erection, “and admire the view.”
And what a wonderous view indeed. From here, he is laid out below you like a grand feast, offering to the pleasure of your eye every little twitch of the muscles in his neck and abdomen as you give his length a few preparatory pumps. His hair is splayed out on your pillow in fair waves, like the halo of the divine being he now claims to be. You can nearly see why Morgoth had so wished to corrupt him, when he truly was a being of pure light. Though in Morgoth’s place, you would never have been so foolish as to fail in cherishing Mairon’s loyalty like the most precious gift that it was. In Morgoth’s place, you’d have punished your beloved servant with nothing but the most wicked of pleasures, and rewarded his terrible feats in your name with a throne beside yours and a crown placed upon his splendid head.
“Admire?” your husband raises a coy eyebrow, even as he throbs in your fist. “I thought you wished to reward me for my generosity,” he reminds you of the little game you had been playing at the beginning. You are no mighty Vala who can offer him everything he has ever craved on a silver platter, but you need not be, when you are what he needs most desperately.
“What better reward than this?” you smile, and sink onto his length in one swift move, pulling a moan from yourself and a brisk curse in Black Speech from him. Having engulfed him to the hilt, you plant your hands onto his chest, savoring the divine stretch.
“How does it fit, my love?” your husband asks, thrusting up ever so slightly.
“It’s perfect,” you moan. “So... so perfect.” As always, but you can’t deny you’ve landed at an angle which hits especially right, even before you’re begun to truly ride him.
“Good.” Your husband’s smile drips with pride. “I made it for you.”
It takes a moment for the meaning of his words to sink in. He has made this form, having fully recovered his ability to deliberately choose the shape and size of each part of himself, and—
“Oh,” you let out, your face crumpling with adoration as you melt on the inside. “You’ve gone through such trouble…”
You say it with false modesty, though this is barely a fraction of the lengths to which he had gone for you in the past, as well as barely a necessity. Even a shaft as inauspicious as the handle of a hammer could become an instrument of your pleasure in your husband’s hands, if it were wielded with his incomparable skill and intimate knowledge of your flesh. But whilst form alone is not everything, there is such a thing as a more or less natural fit for any given body. And this particular appendage with which your husband has endowed himself… the length and girth, every vein, every ridge, is specifically tailored to suit your needs. To stretch you perfectly, just on the right side of the light burn he knows you relish without causing you real pain, to rub and press exquisitely against your walls in all the sweetest ways and spots he knows by heart that you would most enjoy.
“No trouble at all, my love,” he says, hands roaming over your thighs. “I made each part of myself to suit my purpose. I desire no offspring, and have no bodily needs apart from those awakened by my wife. So, you see, the sole purpose of my cock... is to pleasure you. Us.” He brings your hand to his lips, the kiss he presses to your knuckles as reverent as though he were greeting you in the midst of an elegant ballroom rather than naked in your bed, buried inside you to the hilt. “I worship only at the feet of my goddess as well.”
He says it like a vow. This time, when he rises from the mattress to gather you close, closer, you make not the slightest move to stop him—distracted again. But you are beyond caring. Beyond teasing games. There is no slow seduction, no calculated rhythm to the manner in which you begin to move, hips rolling frantically into your husband’s.
“Yes, my love,” he urges fervently. “Take what you need.”
As you do, he makes quick work to relieve you of the remnants of your dress, jaw clenched as your heat swallows him over and again in its velvety depths. He pulls and tears at the fabric, throws it away as if it were standing between him and the healing of Middle-Earth itself, and his wife is at last bared atop him, bouncing prettily on his cock.
“Nothing beneath,” he remarks, a most delicious reprimand as he gropes at your waist, urging you in your movements. “Is such the custom among the ladies of Eregion these days?”
A short laugh finds its way through the string of gasps and moans that leave your throat. “I’ve not worn undergarments since you arrived at the gate.”
“Of course not,” he purrs, the twisted pride in his gaze going straight to the onslaught of pleasure already between your legs. “My beautiful wife, waiting for me with open arms and a bare cunt. Soaked the moment you laid eyes upon me, were you not?”
All the answer he gets is a pitiful whine, and your lips sloppily catching his in a needy kiss. Seated in his lap, with your arm wrapped around his shoulders and your hand sunk into his hair, you are in control over the pace of your thrusts as well as utterly helpless with adoration. He holds you in the circle of his arms so fiercely, tears gather at the corner of your eyes as you pull away to take in your beloved’s expression. His beautiful lips, slightly parted in pleasure. His eyes, darkened to near slits with unbridled desire for you. Only for you.
“I love you,” you all but sob, your hips clashing into his so ruthlessly, you would fear for the anatomy of any lesser being of male form subjected to such treatment. Your mind is as frantic as the tempest in your core, on the verge of unraveling. “I love you, I love you so much—”
“All the heart I have left is yours,” he says in a ragged breath, nails digging into your shoulderblades. “Yours, always yours.”
If that wasn’t enough, the heat of his seed filling you to the brim does you in. Your peak has you clenching around your husband’s throbbing cock as though you mean to cage him within you for the rest of all time, and what a tempting prospect that is.
You slack against him, breathing heavily into his neck. Incoherent fragments of endearments leave your lips, but not even you can tell what you are saying. Your husband cradles your head, shushing you softly through the aftershocks of your release, and lies back against the pillows with you securely in his arms. You hum tiredly as he pulls out, and use the little strength left in your limbs to shift downward so that you may rest your head on your husband’s chest. He needs no heartbeat, but it soothes you to feel it beneath your cheek, strong and slowly settling down after the wonderful exertion through which you had put his form.
“I take it, then,” he says into the blissful silence that has fallen between you, “that my new visage is to your liking.”
You give a soft, tired laugh. Lifting yourself enough that you can gaze down at your husband’s face, you cup his cheek with an adoring smile.
“I liked you rough around the edges, imperfectly human,” you murmur, fingertips grazing the fine lines at the corner of his eye. “I like you smooth and pristine, descended from a great cloud of golden light. I like this face as well as any other, so long as I am looking in my beloved’s eyes.” You press a short kiss to his smiling lips. “It does not hurt, of course, that he tends to be unbearably fair.”
A small chuckle rumbles from his chest to yours. “I do try. But I admit I wonder,” he goes on, growing thoughtful, “now that I am able to change at will once more... whether you would prefer me as I was.”
His question gives you pause, your brow knitting slightly. He does not find such a prospect hurtful, you feel, but he is rather curious to know the answer.
“Would you prefer me as I was?” you ask in turn. “If I were... changed somehow, as you have been?”
His eyes caress your face as his knuckles graze your cheekbone, deeply tender. “I cannot say I would not mourn, if only for a while, the exact arrangement of lines and curves which shaped your form when I first held you in my arms,” he confesses, soft-spoken. “But I would prefer my beloved as she wishes to be.”
Many times, he has been loving to you, but there is a particular flavour to the moments when he is so plainly… sweet. His words move you in a way that makes you feel oddly fragile, sending your heart aflutter as only a being much younger and less scarred than you might be able to feel. You lay your head on your husband’s chest, closing your eyes to savour the sentiment. Yet, as his fingers graze your skin in loving patterns, a trace of old sorrow creeps into your heart. How lucky you are to be lying in your husband’s arms, discussing whether you would prefer one face over another, when you had once wondered how many Ages would have to pass before you could finally be at each other’s side once more.
“I was ill,” you murmur suddenly, cheek still pressed to his heart. “When they took you. For a long time. Ill of mind. As though part of it had shattered and the splinters kept shredding at what little was left of it. I began to... slip, between reality and waking dreams that felt so real, I could no longer tell the difference. At times, I was grateful for it. Because in the ruins of my mind, you had returned to me with a crown upon your head, and you took me in your arms and I was whole again, if only until the fiction fell apart and left me even more bereft than I had been before. Sometimes, I fell into memories, reliving Morgoth’s torments as though they had never ended, but even within those I longed to remain forever. For there, you were with me, and no pain could compare to that of being without you. But once... once, I lived not the past I craved, nor the one that had come to pass. I was... someone else. Someone I had been before Morgoth. And so were you. In fact... there had never been a Morgoth.”
The hand with which your husband was caressing your hair comes to a hesitant halt. You feel him tense, in body and in mind, feel his disquiet upon hearing such words. But he remains silent, and allows you to gather his hand in your own.
“It came to me in glimpses, moments over time, strung together into one story,” your voice is soft in a foreign way as you begin the tale, your fingers idly playing with his before your far away eyes. “What I first felt was light—the light of the Trees, warm upon my face. The skies of Valinor, clear abovehead, the soft grass grazing my bare feet where I sat by the creek. I was… singing. A song of my own making which I cannot remember, and which I am not sure I ever truly knew. But it was cut short, for I was startled by a sudden presence. Rising in haste to my feet, I turned to find the mightiest of the Maiar of Aulë himself standing only a few paces out of reach, his beautiful face awed as well as a touch apologetic. You had not meant to disturb my peace. But so enchanting you had found my voice as you were passing by, you said, that you wished to capture it in one of your creations.
“And so, at your invitation, I began to visit the great forge where the wonders of your mind were brought into being. I was so… shy, I barely dared to address you. But there was such peace in the silences we shared, such ease, that even though we were near perfect strangers, I felt as though we had already spoken every word in the world, and nothing remained to be said of our existence which we had yet to confess to one another most openly.
“You asked me to sing as you shaped metal, as you gave form to wondrous gems. And when I did, you looked at me as though I were the most precious being to have ever breathed in the light of the One. At times, you would forget yourself, and whilst precious materials awaited to be shaped before you, your hands would find mine instead. And they were able to do so with ease, for the more times I joined you in your forge, the closer together we stood.
“But you would not tell me what it was that you meant to craft, shrouding the work of your hands, somehow, from my eyes, even when I looked closely. Only because I let you, though. I knew I could look past the illusion and peek at any moment, but I made a game of it—trying to guess in what manner of adornment you meant to capture my voice. And each time I returned, you would gift me the very jewel I had last guessed, whether wrongly or not. Not the creation you meant to achieve in the end, but lesser ones crafted in my absence, during uninterrupted hours of toil. ‘Lesser’ being but a manner of comparison, for they were the most exquisite I had ever laid eyes upon. But I would have delighted in wearing something as simple as a bracelet made of grassblades, had I known them to have been entwined by your hands.
“On the day your work was finished, my heart was filled with such sorrow thinking our hours together might come to an end. For however plainly our eyes and joined hands had spoken of our feelings, such was my timid nature that I had never dared voice them, and you had never risked bringing offence to my virtue by speaking of yours. Not until you had completed your work, and you finally revealed to me what your end had been from the very beginning. It had not been one jewel you meant to craft, but two. Two splendid rings—neither of power, nor of symbolic importance to any but you and I. With your gifts, you had woven my voice into the gems, and in a way impossible to capture into words, the light reflected upon it shone with the echo of my song. Only then, as you placed one of the pair into my hands, did you confess that you had loved me since the moment you had first heard my voice, and your greatest desire would be for those twin jewels to become the symbols of devotion with which we become wed. Nevertheless, were it not my wish to bind myself to you, the other ring would be mine, to gift, if I should like, to the most fortunate being with whom I would choose to share my soul, whilst you would content yourself to love me from afar, and wish me nothing but the greatest of joy for so long as existence should be. At once I confessed that such a thought was not only absurd, but also too painful to bear—for my heart had been yours since the moment I had laid eyes upon you.
“And so we wed in song and merriment, and we danced under the radiant branches of the Trees, celebrated by your kin and mine alike. We made love in a meadow, soft and slow, and for hours you caressed my skin with petals yielded by a blossom tree in honor of our union. Even that act of passion was somehow so clean. So pure. So...” you search for the right way to describe it, “...wrong.”
It’s as though a spell breaks upon that last, dissonant word. You roll off of your husband, settling onto your side to face him as he does the same. His expression is hard to read, some blend of unease and intrigue in the furrow of his brow.
“For the first time, when the fiction ended, I did not weep,” you tell him, your voice no longer dreamy, but returned to a more familiar fierceness. “For I knew not those beings I had seen. Devoid of purpose, endlessly demure. Light and songs, desire kept secret beneath bashful smiles,” you scoff. “I wanted back the husband that I loved, not some unrecognizable version of him wearing his face. Not some children’s story of infuriating innocence.” With a small shake of your head against the pillow, and a soft, mirthless chuckle, you shift closer into your husband’s arms, both of you adjusting so that you are embracing on your sides. “So, no, my love,” is the answer you ultimately give, “I do not wish for either of us to be anything but what we are, here and now, in body as well as spirit.”
Your husband only hums, deep in thought. He has not said a word since you began to speak, and the longer his silence stretches, the more you begin to wonder whether your confession has displeased him, somehow. Perhaps he does not wish to hear of this romantic scenario your mind had invented, despite its protagonist being but a different version of himself. Or perhaps...
You’ve rarely spoken of what came before. It is a surprise as well as a relief, then, when he does so without seeming too unsettled by the fact that you had alluded to his former self in the first place.
“I was not as you described, indeed,” he murmurs in the end. “Even with my original... disposition, I’d not have hesitated to make my desire known, should I have had any such inclinations towards another. I have always hated a waste of good resources—time is no exception.”
You smile slightly. You know that all too well.
“Nor was I some helpless maiden who shied away from the slightest of amorous attentions,” you assure him. “I doubt it, either way,” you shrug. “I can hardly remember.”
Elven memories do not dim. You do remember what your life before Morgoth was like, but the details of it—the faces, the words spoken, the feelings… those have long been tucked away in a deep corner of your mind, never to be spoken or thought of again. For what use was there to it? That life had been burned away, along with everything you used to be.
“Either way,” you go on, brushing off even the merest thought of that distant past, “it was but a dull fable, conjured by a broken mind. I healed soon after. Reminded myself why I needed to remain sane and strive to do all that I can towards our goal, whether you were to return in a day or a century. Or several,” you add quietly, holding onto your husband just that little bit tighter. His forehead creases with the same deep ache in your chest as he nudges your nose with his.
“Let us not dwell on the past, or things that never were,” he murmurs in his deep, comforting tone. “I am here. And I shall not leave your side again.”
There is still an oddly meditative lilt to his words, a certain sense of wistfulness that does not quite hold the same flavour as the longing you had felt so many times shared between you. But you make no attempt to pry at the sentiment with your mind. Especially as he closes the distance between your lips, kissing you with utmost gentleness.
The kiss deepens, lasts for ages, but remains achingly tender. Utterly disarming. Your legs intertwine, bringing your hips flush together in the tangle. His flesh finds yours, and before long you are joined. There is no power play, no teasing, not even the desperate, nearly pained gasps, wails or groans you so enjoy to wring from one another. Only every inch of him pressed against every inch of you, soft moans melting onto each other’s tongues, the languid pleasure of moving together to an end that envelops you in its warm embrace, leaving you trembling in your husband’s arms and him moaning your name like a most sacred prayer.
In its wake, you are beyond words. All you can do is bury your face in your husband’s chest as he holds you close still, his fingers drawing soft shapes on your skin.
“I’d have made my desire for you known,” he repeats his earlier words in your ear, hushed but fervent, “and I’d never have bowed before Morgoth. For no promise of power could have swayed me to risk your safety. And we’d have stayed servants of the Valar, pure and obedient. It is only as we are now, my love, that we shall be masters of our own fate, and rule above all others.”
You shut your eyes, nuzzle further into his neck, his words sending a shiver through your very soul. This life you have shared is not easy. Not pretty. But in the end, it shall be glorious, better than any other that you might have lived. Truly.
It has to be.
As you drift to sleep, you swear your husband’s caress holds the ghost of a tender petal brushing your skin.
Previous fic with same reader -> As one
Next fic with same reader -> A true gift
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Some LU incorrect quotes for you:
Time: I have two moods
Time: Disappointment and Disappointed
__
Warrior: WHO STOLE MY MONEY
Wind: see for both of our sakes, I legally can not disclose that information.
Warrior: *pulls out a can of Grandma’s Soup* I guess I’ll have this all to myself then…
Wind: The counsel has spoken, I can disclose the confidential information that the money may have accidentally slipped into my hands.
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Wild, concussed: So you see… Some may call it a mistake…
Wild, still concussed: I call it a happy accident
Hyrule, attempting to fix the head wound: I can tell you right now that this isn’t happy for neither of us.
__
Younger Twilight, playing hide and seek: Where should I hide… *spots a well*
Twilight: *jumps in well*
—one hour later—
Uli, getting water from the well: Why is this so heavy?
A soaked Twilight, in the bucket: ‘ITS ’BOUT TIME YA FOUND ME
I have no notes. These are all hilarious. Thank you for sharing.
#Time: one mood#icon#Warrior is not above bribes#he also strikes me as the kind of person to bribe and then not follow through#Wind will give him that information and then he'll keep all that soup to himself#but maybe I underestimate him#surely he's smart enough not to burn his source#because I imagine that Wind is in on all the gossip#Wild... wild my beloved... why are you like this#Twilight. Twilight that was dangerous#why#cheetoanswers#thanks for the ask!#linked universe#lu#linkeduniverse
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Haven't been able to think about anything other than the victorian/edwardian/WW1 twink and his 80's punk almost-boyfriend for a week, send help
#this tv show has consumed my every thought#it's like tumblr catnip#go watch it#it will eat away at your brain#there's also a butch lesbian butcher#an autistic manga loving weirdo (my beloved)#and a badass psychic who's also a mess#WHAT MORE COULD YOU POSSIBLY WANT?#updating the post bc the reblogs lead me on a WILD wiki rabbit hole about the eras of England#okay so Edwin is born in 1900 which means he was born 1 year before the end of the Victorian era (1837-1901) so technically he's a victoria#baby who lived his childhood in the Edwardian era (1901-1910) and his teens in the pre/start of WW1 era (started in 1914)#until he was killed :( in 1916#so my boy here lived though MANY historical events and time periods#shout out to my victorian/edwardian/WW1 twink#history is very fun and this is why i love this website bc where else would i have to do research for my blorbo?#I do however find it very funny if Gaiman named him Edwin in honour of the Edwardian time period he grew up in#I love that man and it wouldn't surprise me if he turned out to be a history nerd (affectionate) like the rest of you#dead boy detectives#edwin payne#charles rowland#crystal palace#niko dbd#dbd#please feel free to dm me about history i adore it
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I was gonna do a pinup but he kept posing cute idk what happened
#only half genuine#hes just not the pinup type of character#oh this is why I only paint certain characters btw#esp in certain ways#they just wouldnt like it or pose like that ever so#cant get it out of my brain to be too ooc#I could force it but it would feel forced and not be fun for me#random art philosophy from me HAHAHAHAHHAHHA#deo why do you draw the same guys#the other characters dont want me to. they asked me politely.#also this morning I forgot to take my meds and I was getting rlly pissed#and my partner was like hey. did you forget...#WILD HOW MUCH THEY DO...#anyways this is cute and I love them so much#luciel my beloved...#luciel#can not wait for people to get to meet him#incredible character. so fun to write.#esp in contrast to zagan#we were legion
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Me, with the unpopular opinion that, in a wq lives au, where wq marries jc, novel canon wwx is not taking well the news about chengqing marriage
#Like post res wwx doesn't have nice thoughts about jc#I imagine him thinking: 'look jc hates me so much he has forced wq to marry him. Because it's a forced marriage. Why else would she have#Married jc??#Look at jc hating me so much he has ruined his and wq's life. Do you see him lz?'#And then idk. wwx is such a wild card#Maybe he would have forgotten the murder mister to investigate (apparently) forced chenqing marriage#While wq is already very done because jc is fretting over jl's first haunt. Their beloved daughters first day of school#Yes jc they have everything already. Lotus pier it's their sect... WHAT A-NING IS THERE? MY A-NING?#This au is probably wild#Who knows what wn feels there. Like Imo he doesn't like jc. Maybe even hates him. Uh#Someone should write something like that please
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do not let caseys sunshiness distract you from the fact that she is just as much emotionally constipated as ludger.
#academy's undercover professor spoilers#academy's undercover professor#casey selmore#the fact that casey has never told anyone including betty and terinna about delica/memory storming events is so wild to me#like girlie why r u suffering from all that by urself#ppl hating on casey for having negative EQ but that only reflects how much emotional support she usually gets from others#case in point: marias selmore#wouldnt surprise me if casey has never trusted to emotionally open up to anyone ever again when its her own family treating her like that#in her entire life casey is close to only 4 ppl but they are either:#1) her sister who historically sucks#2) bestie no. 1 who is almost always swarmed with work#3) bestie no. 2 who once again gave her trust and abandonment issues#4) bestie no. 3 who is not even a human but an automaton also learning how to deal with her own emotions#not to mention to maintain her reputation as a renowned detective she must have been neglecting her own emotional needs#casey selmore my beloved just because you dont look at it doesnt mean it is not there#casey tryna brush off her emotions after the memory storming and seek to solve the problem logically like a thinker she is but#she didnt realise that she was just delaying the inevitable and so the basara arc hit her like a truck + left her bedridden for a month 💀#caseys apologies to ludger only really solved the problem on logical terms#but there is never any emotional closure between them bc they are both painfully emotionally constipated so back to suffering we go 💀💀💀#lesson learnt from ludgercasey angst galore: stop trying to solve emotional problems with logics
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someone force me to try writing a dm fic again this is prime "sit on my patio and chain smoke and write fic" weather (it's 78 degrees!!) and i'm wasiting it by sitting on my patio and chain smoking and scrolling tumblr instead
#i think the reason i can't write this fic is because the fandom absolutely intimidates me#whereas my beloveds in the ck fandom are wonderful and accepting and beautiful perfect people#i read a fic for dm the other day that got an anon hate comment and like?????? never saw that in the wild!!!!!#also WHY THE FUCK do you feel the need to leave a hate comment on a fic gtfoh go do something better with your time!!!#the simple solution is to turn off anon comments (which i have only done once) or lock the fic but still why you gotta do that shit
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i’ve just finished season one of TMA, and being someone who’s okay with spoilers is fun because it means i can peruse the wiki and scroll through the tag and i get to become privy to all sorts of weird, wonderful, halfway-out-of-context information that i get to look forward to understanding in the future
like. what do you mean Leitner’s in the tunnels?
what do you mean Jon eats the extinguished sun??
what do you mean it’s spelled Gerard Keay???
#Jon‚ narrating a statement: '…whose passport had identified him as Gerard Keay.'#Me‚ an American‚ not yet in the habit of following along with the transcripts: 'Ah‚ yes. Jared Key.'#tma spoilers#the magnus archives#gerry keay#gerard keay#tma#i’m sorry but Why do british ppl apparently pronounce Gerard like that how do y’all audibly tell Gerard and Jared apart#anyways based on how i’ve glossed over the other two arguably much more shocking revelations i mentioned#i’m sure you can tell that i’ve latched onto Gerry and everything else is just background noise to me#okay that’s an exaggeration. i Do love the entire show and am invested in the entire cast to varying degrees but.#Gerry… my beloved… his role in Ep. 12 hooked me instantly#it’s bad‚ guys. ive already started making him a playlist. it’s safe to say there’s no hope for me. the fixation train has left the station#Gerry (and Michael) have moved in and will live rent free in my brain indefinitely#listen. you can’t just present to me a cryptic goth man with long poorly dyed black hair and mommy issues who’s covered in eye tattoos-#-and is frequently affiliated with the supernatural and then expect me to Not fall in love with him!!!#*looks at DoorKeay* …and i am also not immune to the opposites attract & human x supernatural entity tropes…#tbh looking at all this DoorKeay fan art has me suddenly remembering my EraserMic days#which is a wild thing to say i know but listen. it’s just the whole long-black-hair x long-blonde-hair similarity#and maybe a bit of the opposite personalities. idk why but i was just admiring one particular DoorKeay fanart and it suddenly hit me#i literally whispered to myself out loud ‘holy shit it’s EraserMic again…’ and it's not Really but also it kinda is and i think it's funny#but then i did More thinking and i think it goes beyond just them. i think i rlly just have a thing for Dark & Light coded character ships#Michael & Gerry… Navia & Chlorinde... Sun & Moon… Mic & Aizawa…#i think i’m learning smthn abt myself now i’ve gotta think if there’s more examples…#i'd almost say Alphonse and Seth but eeehhh not quite. and honestly i think the bigger-brain way to see their relationship through the-#-Dark x Light trope would be to take into account the resurgence of DM!Al and that kinds flips the dynamic#i think that if either of them are Moon-coded it'd be DM!Al. but they honestly just don't quite fit in that trope's box anyways#they're Pink/Black x Brown coded. not Yellow x Black#i do gotta say that i've pulled an Interesting number of songs off Seth's playlist while working on Gerry's... it's the mommy issues innit#i'd almost say PB x Marcy but once again we've got a character that's pink-coded‚ not yellow. i think they fall into a different category
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wip thing...
of my bg3 avatar hellebore. i also did some casual nude studies of my 3 characters which i'll put under a cut... rather unlike me after all. (so WARNING for abrupt non-sexual full Artistic nudity lol...,,,,) (< won't be making a habit of this)
they mean the world to me
#bg3 spoilers#?? idk. gith look so..Emaciated. And long. i guess we don't eat on the astral plane :) anyway..well..too much to say.....#it is very very very depressing having to live in the Real World after that final playthrough meant so very much to me.#i normally feel Hope & suchlike after finishing a highly immersive emotional game..but it's too hard this time and it hurtsssss lol yippee#i appreciate bg3 very much for being a place where i could access the concept of nudity & such like in a way that finally felt comfortable.#bodies are inherently non-sexual. they just Are a Fact of Life. this game being NORMAL about nudity from the character creation screen#makes it possible for someone like me to actually have a chance at accessing sensuality in a way that feels comfortable from there.#dont feel like putting it into words further. im ace. just very grateful to this game. even despite the horrors i will never ever forget it#augoh..gugf.. want to go back. my friends & love are in there.....i'm supposed to just move on? in the real world??? THIS place???? UHH????#my characters canonically look like that too!! i see them as intersex and not so much trans. They just look that way.#Diversity win!!! the people who enacted horrors upon you and are trying to kill you again respect your pronouns!!!! <3#I FAILED HONOUR MODE IN THE STUPIDEST WAY POSSIBLE..ACCIDENTALLY TOUCHED AN ITEM. MY LOVER TOUCHED SOME BLOOD-TOUCHED RAG ITEM @ THE CRECHE#AND MY PEOPLE MASSACRED US... YOU BELOVED PRAT. OF COURSE IT WOULD BE YOU AND IN THIS WAY#grateful for love triangle chaos...INTENSE EX DRAMA... IT HAD MAJOR REPURCUSSIONS THIS TIME...ohh so very much happened ohh my dear#truly don't know how to face the Real World now for real. I Don't Know. something has snapped. ive realised twt just makes me feel sad lol#if something in my spare time isn't at least half as fun as bg3....like.. it's not good enough. god we only have one wild and precious life#being Online makes me feel a loneliness so wretched and painful and horrible i really don't think this is the answer.#Why did you even start drawing in the first place? Why did you start this?#For real..the need to work this out and decide what on earth i'm going to do now has presented itself. Why try to get better..why be online#someone who has an imagination that can keep them so happy and fulfilled...has no business also feeling a loneliness as profound as this.#why was someone THIS introverted and withdrawn and anxious also cursed with such a restlessness?#What are you going to DO now? because hellebore and their lover are fine....... So what about you...?#hellebore..😭😭 AUUGHH!! I JUST WANT TO GO TO MY BED IN THE INN...PLAY ON MY VIOLIN THAT'S WHAT I'D DO!!!! i'd drink some ALE DAMNIT!!!!!#i was rereading My Lesbian Experience With Loneliness- the only time i've seen this level of emotional isolation depicted-and was grateful.#but then i read her latest book and now she has a debilitating substance abuse situation and it's upsetting.#I hope she finds what she was looking for. I hope we all make it. kind of wild that i dont do such major self-sabotage at this point myself#I truly think anyone who manages to find dear friends and achieve fulfillment and happiness with others outside themselves are amazing.#I see it happen from my tower. i hope we all make it. I hope we can make it through everything to come.#Why did i say all this on drawings of my characters naked. ah who even cares any more......
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Tbh I keep forgerring that tumblr is a thing that I have an account on. I've been here so long but it's only like... Lurking. Like the slυt I am.
Anyway here's drawings from last month.
And as a treat for myself, transfem Yone with trans girl Kayn :3c
#Death's art tag#ezreal#kayn#shieda kayn#aphelios#heartsteel aphelios#alune#heartsteel alune#rhaast#But he's human :p#settrigh#Sett's mother my beloved ♡#kayone#Uhh ummm why are you still reading these?#Uh.... Well um. I downloaded wild rift like ten days ago and despite my aversion to pvp games...#I've played like 100 games so far and my win rate is 65%#But I'm getting carried a lot so uhhhhhhhhhhh I suck.
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I'm just going to start making posts about classic literature the way modern fandoms do with characters because I need an outlet and none of my friends willingly read these books
#Zeta Rambles#You guys don't even understand the emotional rollercoaster I just had reading the beginning of “Ulysses”#For context I love Faulkner and near the end of part one I was like “I don't like the Quentin bridge scene vibes this is giving me”#Maybe this is why my professor looked so amused when I told him I was looking forward to reading this book#“Ulysses is a hard read but you like Faulkner.” still the funniest thing he's said to me about my Faulkner obsession#Literally. Shreve was basically my first blorbo. I think that says something about me but I'm not sure what#I can't get over Stephen's thought process. It's so perfectly unhinged. I love the prose and its cadence so much.#Also. That line. That freaking “Wilde's love” line actually caught me so off-guard that I had to close the book for a second. LIKE HELLO???#Anyways. I have a feeling my professor is going to LAUGH when I tell him I read all of part one.#He told us just to test the waters. Maybe try to read the first few pages. I think he anticipated everyone being too frustrated to read mor#JOKES ON HIM! I freaking love reading this sort of prose. Stream of consciousness my beloved
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holy shit i think this past saturday was the first time in TEN ENTIRE MONTHS that i forgot to take my pills for a day
#I'VE NEVER BEEN THAT CONSISTENT BEFORE THAT'S A WILD RECORD#meds reminder app my beloved#i broke my streak BUT DAMN WAS THAT AN IMPRESSIVE STREAK!#and i took my meds yesterday i do know that#so I've only missed a single day since i started these in January#not counting the time my old psychiatrist refused to let me refill my meds in time so i had to take them every other day#bc i didn't want to run out too soon and just Stop Taking Them for a whole week so we did every other day instead#no longer seeing that entire FACILITY bc they were so fucking awful with this shit I just LEFT and my new one is much nicer#that shitty facility was the same one that trapped me in a room bc they didn't bother to make sure wheelchair users can open their doors#and i was in a fucking. windowless room with a heavy steel door and a lot of insulation bc it's supposed to be a private doctor chat room#which is honestly fucking STUPID that I'm expected to show up in person for an appointment#and then they stick me in a room to fucking VIDEO CALL the doctor#like. fucking. THIS COULD HAVE BEEN A FUCKING EMAIL#except replace email with just video call#they didn't need my vitals for anything they didn't need me there physically WHY WAS I STILL FORCED TO COME IN#JUST LET ME VIDEO CALL THE DOCTOR AT HOME LIKE. WHAT THE FUCK#and then they forgot me in the fucking call room and didn't let me out until i had my mom grab me#AND THEN THEY GOT MAD AT MY MOM FOR IT. THEY WERE LIKE 'you could've just called for us' I WAS FUCKING SCREAMING SOBBING#once i move far enough away from that facility to feel safe posting its location#I'm making a PSA post for anyone else in the area#bc holy FUCK that was awful and the fact that THAT'S the facility that our local hospital directs people to is absolutely INSANE
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pro: ran into a coworker at a bar last night who I don’t really talk to usually (he works upstairs, I work downstairs) and we talked and im pretty sure we were highkey flirting and he bought me a drink and the bar merch shirt i was interested in and thanks to the power of alcohol i guess i asked for his number and he gladly gave it to me and. yeah
con: i have the second worst hangover i have ever had and have been fighting for my fucking life just to eat saltines
#it’s getting better but only now that it’s like. 6pm#as weird as it sounds part of why this sucks is that I volunteered to come into work today cause there’s a concert going on nearby which#usually means we’re at least somewhat busy -> make better tips#and I couldn’t go in because well. you know#I’ve been sick and dying in bed all day unable to move or eat or anything#let alone take the bus and go to work#but. as much as I wish I didn’t go this overboard I don’t totally regret last night cause.#yeah. potential thing going on with cute coworker guy. OH and potential job opportunity at my favorite bar in town#apparently said coworker Also has a job at the bar in addition to where we both work and the bar is hiring barbacks at entry-level#so I have someone to vouch for me and the bartender we were talking to seemed to really want me to apply too#one thing that’s kinda funny to me about all this is that the first two places (a bar then a club) we were at felt really mid because they#were packed with way too many straight people (at a gay bar and a gay club)#but the bar we ended up at (where we ALWAYS end up at. it is the oasis. it is the only thing I can rely on) felt. like. not overwhelmingly#straight? at all? I mean part of it’s just luck in a way with just who happened to be there and all that but it’s also that the staff seem#pretty significantly populated with queer ppl#I complained to the bartender about how the club we were at (one of the biggest gay clubs in the city- if not The biggest) just felt kinda#meh because yeah maybe there were some guys dancing in jockstraps and whatever but the crowd itself like. did not feel largely queer#or at least didn’t have the spirit I’d hope for in a queer space if that makes sense. felt very conventional. not enough wild outfits and#makeup and gender fuckery and so on#and the bartender was like dude I KNOW right? I went off outside there once about the invasion of cishets when this space isn’t FOR them#and so on and so forth. and god that was So real.#so the experience at my beloved bar last night was like. 1) guy comes up behind me just to order a drink but i was saving a seat for my#friend who was in the bathroom and mentioned that in case he was looking to take the seat. chatted a little. ended with him pointing out#that a guy nearby was trying to holla at me.#2) I look over and yes. the dj is. in fact. looking directly at me and mouthing the lyrics to whatever song was playing pointed my way.#it was pretty sweet honestly I think it was partly cause I looked like I was shy and alone#3) whatever gay shit was going on with my coworker and i. amusingly he seems to get more flamboyant when he drinks just like i do.#im not 100% sure what his sexuality is but i Am 100% sure it is Not straight. but yeah. if it hadn’t been so close to closing time ive been#hardcore wondering where that would’ve gone. maybe its for the best that i had to go when i did cause i was pretty drunk and who knows when#I could’ve hit the amount of drunk it takes to like outright say hey just so you know i’d suck your dick right now if you wanted
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