#annatars shit paradigms

[aran-morinorea]

The only thing I have anything new in today is Annatar's Shit Paradigms!

Annatar’s face goes blank in the way Celebrimbor is increasingly sure means he’s embarrassed, more so than when he literally blushes. When his eyes refocus, he says, “Sure.”

Their lab is clean. Their hands are clean. Celebrimbor has - some ideas. “Can I see?”

Annatar starts. “Wh- now?”

Celebrimbor affects an air of intellectual curiosity when he says, “Why not?” He knows he’s completely transparent, but the effort will amuse Annatar, at least.

[aran-morinorea]

Annatar’s shit paradigms pls???? Happy Friday !!!

fuck it i really like this actually

Annatar pushes into Celebrimbor's touch and nods, watching him unblinking. Celebrimbor wants to find everything he changed, since he clearly did more than Celebrimbor asked about. He sets a hand in Annatar’s hair and a kiss at the base of his neck. He smells a little different – hot copper rather than iron, perhaps. His jaw is a different shape, just enough that kissing him there is different too. Sliding his thumb over the elegant curve of one ear, Celebrimbor bites down on the soft skin just below the other.

It leaves a mark.

He’s never going to get over that. Annatar is just indulging him, of course, he couldn’t do him any real injury, but on some level that just makes it better. This person – older than the world and more arrogant than any Incarnate king, who moves through life with the strength of a tectonic plate and the fire of a star – will let Celebrimbor mark him, take direction from his teeth, alter his worldly vessel for Celebrimbor’s amusement.

[aran-morinorea]

HELLO I live in hope of developments in Annatar's Shit Paradigms but if that is not available yet I would also love some Mallachel 👀

Celebrimbor wants to know if genderbent Annatar is available on request

“I still don’t see why it matters how I relate to your gender categories,” Annatar is saying, as they clean up after a long evening in the crystalarium, “Maybe the Amanyar didn’t get 'good answers' because they weren’t asking good questions.” Celebrimbor is silent for a beat too long. Annatar gives him a look, and rolls his eyes ostentatiously. “Oh, this is a sex thing, isn't it?” Celebrimbor sticks his nose in the air and huffs, “Maybe. Still, have you ever…” Annatar sighs deeply. “Honestly? I don’t generally bother with reproductive organs at all unless I'm intending on actually having sex. I don’t know if you would call this,” and here he turns into one of his First Age shapes, with cat’s-eyes and a coat with a four-foot train hemmed in flame, “a ‘male’ or ‘female’ shape. It’s extremely minimalistic beneath the clothing.” He opens the coat and lifts the layer beneath to reveal - as promised - completely featureless skin so black it looks like a hole in the world. Then he switches back to Tar-Glóriel, with whose imitation-reproductive organs Celebrimbor is extremely familiar.

And Mallachel wants to know what the fuck Tyelpe is thinking

By the time the new box is actually finished, Mallachel is a cat again, which does pose a potential problem. Celebrimbor announces its completion, mostly to himself, and then turns to Mallachel, raising an eyebrow. “Do I get to test this now, or later?” Mallachel hisses at him. Later, then.

[aran-morinorea]

Can we hear a bit more about the catastrophic miscommunication pls??

“So could you just swap them out at will?” he asks, intrigued.

“What,” Annatar deadpans, “Do you want me to be your wife instead of your husband?”

… Celebrimbor was really only thinking about the physical level. The image is in his head now, though, and it’s definitely not unappealing. “You know what,” he says, “I wasn't even intending to go there, but we could if you want.”

[aran-morinorea]

Paradigms!!!

His husband – his wife, Annatar said, and isn't that a thrilling thought for some reason – just looks at him, wide-eyed and adorable.

So Celebrimbor adores him. He starts exploring – drawing his fingers along Annatar's sides, his stomach, his chest. “I didn't even ask you for these,” Celebrimbor teases, cupping the cute little breasts in his hands. “You like them?” he checks.

[aran-morinorea]

Annatar’s shit paradigms plsss

Annatar lifts his arms a bit, like he's not sure whether to return the favor. But this is about Annatar; Celebrimbor wants to see all of him. So he says, “Oh, don't hide, precious. Here, you can put these -” and he takes Annatar’s wrists and lays his hands flat behind him, close together so his chest pushes forward and his top falls further open. “Well done,” Celebrimbor murmurs, not even trying not to stare.

[aran-morinorea]

Annatars shit paradigms please! 🙏

As expected, Annatar rolls his eyes but does it anyway. Celebrimbor watches, fascinated, while his shape changes the slightest bit: ears at a slightly different angle, half an inch extra height, even a little bit of roundness in the chest. That’s intriguing. Celebrimbor gives him a quick kiss, just to feel the slightly different angle, and then starts working on getting a closer look. Annatar is helpfully not wearing a great deal, because he likes to disrespect the concept of safety gear as blatantly as possible.

[aran-morinorea]

screw it annatars shit paradigms hours

Celebrimbor is not feeling very patient right now. He sweeps Annatar’s single layer aside, reaching to pull up a little on Annatar's hips. “Go on,” he says, “Sit on the table so I can-” and Annatar does. Celebrimbor steps forward and pushes Annatar's thighs apart so he can see the change. “Just like that, good job,” he says, looking down at his husband's new cunt.

It's aesthetically perfect and already glistening wet. Celebrimbor didn't expect anything else from him, but Annatar loves compliments, so he tells him, “This is so pretty, precious, I love it.” He pets it a little, feeling its soft lips and getting his fingers slightly slick. He spreads it open with both thumbs, pulls the hood of the clit up and nudges it with a knuckle, watching how much Annatar reacts to it.

I can’t decide either so flip a coin! Heads for paradigm, tails for vivisecting! Much love, you’re the best!

two is a perfectly fine number to ask for HOWEVER i am spontaneously combusting whenever i look at the ASP draft so i will give that to you. later. for now! Donating Blood!Annatar is having a normal one.

It does not break one-handed.

He puts it down for a moment. He’s perfectly fine. He can – he will do it, he’s just – a bit unsettled.

Tyelpë is watching wordlessly. He asked him to break it. His expression is – not easy to interpret. Not without looking at him with the eyes, anyway, and Mairon – doesn’t want to do that.

[aran-morinorea]

welcome to nan elmoth our boy is so coherent today. as coherent as i am awake

Oh fuck. Laurefindelë has to - what if - there’s a chance she’s still - she’s just trapped here. Somewhere else. Possibly. If - maybe he can - that’s a question for later. For now he needs to figure out how to ask - “The one you seek has been dead for seven decades,” says Maeglin, though Laurefindelë did not speak.

[aran-morinorea]

WIP WEDNESDAY FRIDAY

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from kedreeva (and directly taken from suzukiblu)

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Friday! Listen I only have like 8 active WIPs and thats if you count aran morinorea as 5, the theme is “things im Rotating” … and this is me so that means the theme is “terrible inverted power dynamics.”

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting; on ao3 here):

A Major Diplomatic Incident (Elrond’s evil cousin-in-law is good company, somehow)

The Worst Road Trip (my love language is kidnapping your uncle)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Donating Blood (vivisecting your maia boyfriend; silvergifting)

Mallachel (accidental time travel with Nargothrond Celebrimbor and melted Sauron; silvergifting; on ao3 here)

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (maeglin mind controlling glorfindel for fun and aesthetics)

snippet from The Worst Road Trip:

His voice, when he'd spoken, was smooth and rich and hypnotizing. He wasn’t Treelit, but his hair fell in a golden river over his shoulders with mathematical precision. His face was completely symmetrical, with warm, dark, perfect skin. He was smiling at me with the kind of gentle patience that drove Father up the wall when Maiar directed it at him, and I was suddenly intensely aware that my only instruments at that moment were a homemade reed flute and a voice I hadn’t been providing with enough water recently. He looked me up and down, with an assessing gaze that had a weight I could feel, and said in that gentle, pleasant, irritatingly soothing voice, “Hello there! Yes, I do think I was right.”

[aran-morinorea]

Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea: I want to hear about Annatar's Shit Paradigms, of course :D

...All right so here's the thing you don't get Annatar's Shit Paradigms because it needed so much groundwork before I can begin to write actual prose. But you do get this whole thing describing Annatar's interiority in the months after The Inciting Event for the whole au. Because I needed to pin it down so I can even start Annatar's Shit Paradigms.

--

Celebrimbor confronts Annatar - Tar-Mairon - about his activities in Mordor, gives him the “Your evil plans or me” ultimatum, and then Mairon fucks off to go have a tantrum.

This tantrum involves: 

Going back to Barad-dur and killing some people who definitely 100% deserved it for sure. 

That thing where someone goes to a bathroom and splashes water on their face and looks in the mirror while leaning on the sink except it’s lava instead of water. 

Laying facedown in the fires of Mount Doom and rethinking his life. 

Causing multiple earthquakes. 

...Thinking about the joy of watching Celebrimbor learn and make things. 

Thinking about the satisfaction of working in partnership with someone else, someone as vibrant and strong and smart and wonderful as Celebrimbor. 

Thinking about going and taking Celebrimbor by force, laying siege to Ost-in-Edhil and putting him in chains and bringing him here and keeping him.

… Thinking about how strong and vibrant and stubborn and principled Celebrimbor is. 

Thinking about whether Celebrimbor would be one of those people who would rather die than live as a thrall. 

Realizing that yes, Celebrimbor absolutely would die for what he believes in, and it would be so much work to try keep his spirit around, and it wouldn’t be nearly the same as having him - really having him - having him to work and argue and play with - having his love.

Remembering that Celebrimbor still doesn’t know about the Sauron thing, and he might be able to keep it that way.

Remembering that Celebrimbor did not cast him out of his life unequivocally - he will not be the friend or lover of a slaver and an imperialist, but if Mairon takes steps to stop being those things -

Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to stop being those things.

Realizing he’s genuinely considering just giving up on the vision of Melkor.

Spontaneously filling the whole room with flames.

That was the throne room. He’d been sitting there, motionless and completely unresponsive, for four days.

There might have been people in there who will be annoying to replace. Mairon simply cannot care about it right now.

Remaining on fire while thinking about Melkor’s promises.

He said it was only a matter of time.

He said it would be better to put the rightful king on the throne of Arda quickly, and get back to the business of metals and fractals, than to fight a long defeat and be judged unworthy at the end, never having time for beauty again.

And then He lost.

Three times out of four.

As soon as the Valar bothered to interfere.

And maybe, at the end, after the final battle, it would be better, safer, to have been working toward His purposes the whole time He was gone, but -

Thinking about what would happen if the Valar bothered to interfere with his current projects.

…Thinking about how hard it would be, really, to be - in truth, even, maybe! - someone Celebrimbor could love.

How hard would it be to act within the boundaries of Celebrimbor’s principles?

He did not say “Believe what I believe.”

He did not say “Cease to be a monster.”

He said “Your policies are monstrous and I cannot support them,” which suggests that it is the action that matters most to him. That the problem is what he is doing, and not what he is.

Changing that does not seem so hard.

Perhaps it will be a fun challenge, like an arbitrary restriction for a jewelcraft competition.

And really - if anyone is going to change him - if he’s going to accept anyone’s judgement - if there’s anyone currently in Arda who Mairon thinks is right - would it not be Celebrimbor?

Of course it would.

Deciding that, you know what, Mairon would be willing to commit to Celebrimbor’s vision - if Celebrimbor will fucking commit to him.

This is so Mairon can keep him.

So that they will twine their souls together and be - be that partnership which is so full of joy.

Deciding that if Celebrimbor won’t do it - if he wants “Annatar” to give him this without giving anything in return - then - yes.

Then he will find another way to keep him. 

And it would not be as good, it would not be Mairon’s shining vision, but it would be something. And eventually Celebrimbor would see the value in Mairon’s methods. He’s sure of it.

When he’s finally done with his tantrum, Annatar climbs out of the magma-filled crevasse he'd been sulking in and goes up to draft the words to a wedding proposal.

[aran-morinorea]

i was just working on solidifying the outline for annatar's shit paradigms - i think it's eleven chapters

also, the chapter titled "Asymmetry" is the only time period only covered from one perspective, and the chapters "Anticipation" and "Hindsight" are the same time period. for fun.

[aran-morinorea]

WIP WEDNESDAY SUNDAY

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from kedreeva (and directly taken from suzukiblu)

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Sunday! Listen I only have like 8 active WIPs and thats if you count aran morinorea as 5, the theme is “things im Rotating” … and this is me so that means the theme is “terrible inverted power dynamics.”

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting):

A Major Diplomatic Incident (Elrond has to deal with this shit?)

Annatar’s Shit Paradigms (they call me the Miscommunication Enjoyer)

Homecoming (hello everyone meet my husband he is also king now)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Donating Blood (vivisecting your maia boyfriend; silvergifting)

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (maeglin mind controlling glorfindel for fun and aesthetics)

snippet from A Major Diplomatic Incident:

His husband had no such difficulties. “Do you really think if we could reason our way out of love,” he teased, “We would be in this situation? I had all those evil plans you ruined, and I forgave you anyway, because I’m an idiot.” Feeling as though he ought to defend his own taste, or at least prevent Celebrimbor from thinking his was any better, Elrond added, “And it’s not as though your better judgement managed to stop you from marrying a Maia of Morgoth, so be silent.” The earlier ominous dimness had reversed: Tar-Glóriel’s glee drew everything into sharp focus and contrast. He said, “Yeah! Shut up!” and punched Celebrimbor lightly in the shoulder. Elrond’s hosts promptly began a minor shoving match on their little black velvet couch in their opulent little black parlor. This was very silly. When they seemed to forget that there was someone else in the room, Elrond interrupted them with the question that had been bothering him since it first came up.

[aran-morinorea]

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from kedreeva (and directly taken from suzukiblu)

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Thursday! I am free of the grad school! For. two weeks.

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting; on ao3 here):

The Worst Road Trip (you think tar-gloriel’s an asshole, maglor, imagine having to work for the guy)

Annatar’s Shit Paradigms (catastrophic consent-related miscommunication)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Donating Blood (vivisecting your maia boyfriend; silvergifting)

Mallachel (accidental time travel with Nargothrond Celebrimbor and melted Sauron; silvergifting; on ao3 here)

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (maeglin mind controlling glorfindel for fun and aesthetics)

snippet from Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth:

It’s so dark.

When he gets tired, he half-sleeps in the bed. If Maeglin didn’t want him to, he shouldn't have left him here. By the time he’s hungry enough he can’t ignore it any longer, he's able to navigate fairly well between the bed, the washbasin and its full lidded pitcher of clean water (which was such a relief to discover), the chamberpot, and the food tray. 

Again, the uncertainty of how long this is going to go on is crushing. He doesn’t want to eat too much too soon and then be even more miserable later.

It’s so dark.

On top of the dresser he eventually finds a hand mirror. He almost drops it immediately on discovering it, and the shards would have been horrible to try to deal with. 

Without the mirror, the Treelight in Laurefindelë’s eyes only means he can sometimes see his own nose. But if he holds it up to his face, the light in his eyes scatters, and it makes just the faintest glow. Not really enough to see clearly by, but enough to remind himself he’s in an unlit room and not the Everlasting Darkness or something.

[aran-morinorea]

OUT OF TOUCH THURSDAY

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Thursday! I’ve gotten to stopping points on like 3 of these let’s start new chapters in ‘em

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting; on ao3 here):

The Worst Road Trip (you think tar-gloriel’s an asshole, maglor, imagine having to work for the guy)

Annatar’s Shit Paradigms (catastrophic consent-related miscommunication)

A Major Diplomatic Incident (Elrond has to deal with this shit?)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Donating Blood (vivisecting your maia boyfriend; silvergifting)

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (maeglin mind controlling glorfindel for fun and aesthetics)

snippet from Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (the end of “come in from the cold”! the next snippet will start “and into the dark” 🤭):

“Her husband objected to her attempt to remove me from his power.” His eyes and teeth flash. It seems more like a real smile than any of his earlier ones. “I am so glad I did not ask you these questions on the road.”

A confused noise falls past the despair in Laurefindelë’s throat and out of his mouth. He does not look at Maeglin's face or the painting on the far wall. He watches Maeglin's hands instead: a danger observation might mitigate rather than attract.

“Well, anywhere else, Glorfindel of Gondolin, he might be watching.” Maeglin stands and puts his cup down, then takes Laurefindelë’s and returns it to the still-full tray of food. He takes Laurefindelë’s chin in cold fingers and tilts it up. Laurefindelë shuts his eyes and tries to - he doesn’t know - he just wants to get out, but the fear sits in his limbs like lead. 

The hand on his face tightens, just slightly. Maeglin sighs. When he says, “I can keep you still enough to bind without using your eyes, you know. But if you make me tie you down and drag you up the stairs with my hands, then they won’t be free to leave you anything to eat,” his voice is horribly gentle. Laurefindelë tries to grab Maeglin’s wrist, or curl in on himself, or at least turn his head, but he doesn’t manage more than a jerk of his chin. Maeglin doesn’t lose his grip for a moment. “Your choice.”

…Laurefindelë opens his eyes. The world tilts, just as it did from the forest floor, and it doesn’t stop. His arms push him up from the chair. His legs cross the room, and climb some stairs, and turn him around. A tray is placed in his waiting hands. His eyes clear, but remain locked on those of his captor. Cold dread coats the inside of his skin, keeping his limbs and tongue still.

“I have some things to see to,” Maeglin continues pleasantly, as though he hasn’t just torn a hole in Laurefindelë’s mind, “and after that, I think you will be very useful.”

And then he leaves, taking the faint and flickering light with him.

[aran-morinorea]

WIP WEDNESDAY FRIDAY

Slimmed-down post/rules, but originally taken from kedreeva (and directly taken from suzukiblu)

It’s WIP Wednesday on a Friday! Let’s fuckin do it.

Here’s how it works:

I will post the file names of five WIPs, and will also post a snippet of new content from one of them to get the ball rolling.

Send me an ask with the name of one of the listed WIPs and I will write you a minimum of three sentences in that WIP in response!

Multiple asks are fine ^-^

If you’re reading this, you’re invited!

WIP names:

With Tar-Telepta, Aran Morinórea (coruling Mordor for fun and aesthetics; silvergifting; on ao3 here):

A Major Diplomatic Incident (Elrond has to deal with this shit?)

Annatar’s Shit Paradigms (catastrophic consent-related miscommunication)

Without Tar-Telepta:

Donating Blood (vivisecting your maia boyfriend; silvergifting)

Mallachel (accidental time travel with Nargothrond Celebrimbor and melted Sauron; silvergifting; on ao3 here)

Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth (maeglin mind controlling glorfindel for fun and aesthetics)

snippet from Non-Euclidean Nan Elmoth:

Even taking those recent events into account, Laurefindelë’s company chose to take the northern path over that through Nan Dungortheb, reasoning that they were all much more practiced at dispatching the servants of Morgoth than the spawn of Ungoliant. But it was the wrong choice: “overrun” is not a strong enough descriptor for that place, in these days. It would take them too long to cross, Maeglin says, for him to keep their passage secret. If they are discovered there, they will be caught, and they cannot afford to be caught.

The other path is no safer, Laurefindelë argues. It is a valley of horror, and none who go in emerge whole, if they emerge at all.

“I have been to the north marches of Neldoreth, you know,” says Maeglin. “Where spider country presses against the Girdle.”

“Is it as terrible as the stories say?” asks Laurefindelë, who has never before been desperate enough to go near that place.

“Perhaps you would think so. To me, it felt like home.”

And so they will be taking the southern route. If nothing goes wrong, they will reach the ford around sunset the next day, and cross into Nan Dungortheb in the middle of that night.

It is full dark by the time they make this decision, so it is Maeglin who will stay at least half awake while Laurefindelë gets some proper rest. Which means, of course, that he must try to sleep knowing that if nothing goes wrong, he will be walking into the valley of spiders in less than two days.

--

He manages it. Eventually.