#i actually love this thing

[that-angry-noldo]

Finarfin knows three things. One, he is disoriented, which is not a good state to find oneself in. Two, he is chained and being dragged somewhere, which is even a worse state to find oneself in. Three, he's got less than three minutes to hatch a plan with no prospect of silence and peace in the... forseeable future.

Giant, sinister iron doors open before him and the beings dragging him forward. Finarfin had no time to look, but he has no doubt he is in Angband - they didn't leave much more evil fortresses standing. Ending up in Angband, as a captive, was not on his list of summer plans; we thought we'd march through it victoriously by the end of summer, he thinks, bitter and frustrated.

The hall around them erupts in cacophony of sounds - screaming, wheezing, laughing; Finarfin can hear his own name, barked with mockery. He looks forward, and his eyes fix on the throne in the other end of the hall, surrounded by twisted beings of all kinds.

He remembered Morgoth from the Years of Trees - he had the misfortune of meeting him a few times, though Finarfin was never of Morgoth's particular interest. He was fair, then - dark and cold, but still undeniably fair; now he was terrible, terrifying even, with two eyes gleaming from the darkness of his face and two Gems shining from his crown (only two now - Finarfin folds that under the "not sure how, but going to use this information later" folder in his mind). A wide, cruel grin sits on Morgoth's self-satisfied face - too sharp, too wide; Finarfin lets out a tired hiss, unheard in the general mayhem, and stumbles when one of the chains is pulled too hard.

Think, he orders himself, you've got less than a minute to think about your situation. Judging by the number of beings flooding the hall, his capture is being made into a show, which hardly means anything good for him. Finarfin ponders the prospect of public execution, but quickly dismisses it - he's too useful of a captive to be wasted in such way; public humiliation it is, then, he decides, and silently curses his luck.

The hall is full of twisted beings of all kinds - orcs, goblins, vampires; trolls, even; Finarfin spots a few humans, though they are standing silently, and their eyes look with reluctant pity. Finarfin shakes his head, letting part of his hair fall to the side and hide a part of his face.

Suddenly, Morgoth raises his fist, and the procession stops. There's still a considerable amount of distance from Finarfin and the throne, which is good. Or bad. Finarfin has no idea. With the screaming ceased, he's uncomfortably aware of his state - he's cold and naked, safe for a piece of ragged cloth that serves as some kind of shorts; the chains bite into the skin of his wrists and ankles, leaving it red and itchy; he's thirsty, and, now that he thinks about it, pretty hungry - he hasn't eaten for two days at least (no matter how frustrated it made Ingwion, Finarfin couldn't force a bite before the battle, with how nauseos the anxiety (well-proven, as it turned out - take that, Ingwion!) made him feel). He bites down a groan and forces himself to focus on Morgoth.

The Dark Foe rises from his throne and grins at him mockingly. His voice, cold and satisfied, echoes from the walls of the Hall.

"What an honor, to welcome the King of the Noldor in our humble abode!"

King of the Amanyar, technically, Finarfin thinks absently, but makes no sound as the residents of the room erupt with laughter. Gil-Galad is the king of Beleriandrim. So not a win, not really. What about "Brother of Fëanor"? Or maybe of Fingolfin? I don't envy him, choosing in what way to adress me must've been a headache.

"And to think we could have foregone an entire war without meeting each other! A shame, truly - a shame like nothing else!"

Finarfin bites his tongue, stopping the response that was about to fall from his lips. He'd hardly be given more than one line. He should waste it on something more witty than "this whole war is all about meeting you, actually".

... he can make it sound like flirting, though. Has anyone flirted with Morgoth before?... Ah yes, the three great kings of Noldor: Feanor, who shut the doors in Morgoth's face; Fingolfin, who wounded him seven times; and Finarfin, who flirted with the Dark Enemy in front of his entire court. Focus, you idiot. You'll have plenty of opportunities to flirt with him should you be in a mood.

"What a gift, what a prize," Morgoth says, and his gaze - curious, prideful, lustful, - turns into deep, dreadful fear in Finarfin's stomach. Morgoth steps forward, dark and looming. "Arafinwë Ingoldo Finarfin, son of Finwë, brother of Fëanor and Fingolfin, father of Finrod Felagund himself! Thirty-eight years had he spent on this continent, serving the will of my divine brothers and sisters; thirty-eight years have I spent, sending my messengers to him with offers to talk and to come to a compromise. Alas! What a shame it is, that we have to meet in such a manner!"

Finarfin tenses as the Enemy draws closer. A cold, claw-like hand lies on his shoulder, and Finarfin shudders; the light of two Silmarills shine in the darkness of Morgoth's face, and his eyes gleam with cruel curiosity. A pretty little thing, he murmurs quietly, and Finarfin doesn't know if it was ósanwë Morgoth used, or if it was meant for the whole court to hear; either way, he can't help taking a sharp breath when Morgoth releases him, moving a few steps back. "How do you find our welcome, oh Noldoran? Are your bounds comfortable? Is your host suitable enough for a man of your rank?"

Finarfin is startled by silence.

All of the eyes in the room are on him, and it is practically brimming with excitement and adrenaline. One line, he reminds himself, you are being granted a one line.

He licks his lips. He can feel Morgoth's mocking gaze on him. He reaches for rage burried deep inside his being, reaches for years of war and anger and wrath; he looks the Enemy in the eyes.

"In all honesty," he deadpans, "you are even more of a bitch than I remembered, Morgoth Bauglir."

Morgoth's eyes spark. There is a moment of silence, and then, the hall explodes.

Finarfin feels blinding pain in his ribs as he's being wrestled to the ground. The hall roars around him, and he tries to struggle as dirty hands grab him and force fim down; someone hits his face, and he can feel blood trickling down his chin from where they split his lip; someone else grabs his hair and tugs it back - Finarfin growls as they force a muzzle on him; it bites into his flesh and burns his tongue, and they yell triumphantly when they succeed. Finarfin doesn't have time to adjust, as he's finally on the ground, on his knees, and someone jerks his head to meet with the Enemy's dark gaze; he stills like this, held by many, pain still burning in his body.

"Behold," Morgoth laughs, "the hospitality of Angband, Noldoran, for here you will pay great cost for your bold words! And you, my faithful servants - behold what happens with those who dare to question my authority; for they will be marked as such, and submitted to my wrath, and I will decide their life and their deaths." His eyes gleam dangereously, piercing through Finarfin, as he continues.

"Bring forth the brands. Let's see how long the pride of a King lasts in face of pain of Angband."

[christadeguchi]

"we know how to move our bodies, but i didn't know how to manage my heart, so you need help for this"

hi we need to talk more about judo gold medallist christa deguchi.

[crowkip]

yeehaw, baby!

[inkskinned]

because sometimes there are invisible tests and invisible rules and you're just supposed to ... know the rule. someone you thought of as a friend asks you for book recommendations, so you give her a list of like 30 books, each with a brief blurb and why you like it. later, you find out she screenshotted the list and send it out to a group chat with the note: what an absolute freak can you believe this. you saw the responses: emojis where people are rolling over laughing. too much and obsessive and actually kind of creepy in the comments. you thought you'd been doing the right thing. she'd asked, right? an invisible rule: this is what happens when you get too excited.

you aren't supposed to laugh at your own jokes, so you don't, but then you're too serious. you're not supposed to be too loud, but then people say you're too quiet. you aren't supposed to get passionate about things, but then you're shy, boring. you aren't supposed to talk too much, but then people are mad when you're not good at replying.

you fold yourself into a prettier paper crane. since you never know what is "selfish" and what is "charity," you give yourself over, fully. you'd rather be empty and over-generous - you'd rather eat your own boundaries than have even one person believe that you're mean. since you don't know what the thing is that will make them hate you, you simply scrub yourself clean of any form of roughness. if you are perfect and smiling and funny, they can love you. if you are always there for them and never admit what's happening and never mention your past and never make them uncomfortable - you can make up for it. you can earn it.

don't fuck up. they're all testing you, always. they're tolerating you. whatever secret club happened, over a summer somewhere - during some activity you didn't get to attend - everyone else just... figured it out. like they got some kind of award or examination that allowed them to know how-to-be-normal. how to fit. and for the rest of your life, you've been playing catch-up. you've been trying to prove that - haha! you get it! that the joke they're telling, the people they are, the manual they got- yeah, you've totally read it.

if you can just divide yourself in two - the lovable one, and the one that is you - you can do this. you can walk the line. they can laugh and accept you. if you are always-balanced, never burdensome, a delight to have in class, champagne and glittering and never gawky or florescent or god-forbid cringe: you can get away with it.

you stare at your therapist, whom you can make jokes with, and who laughs at your jokes, because you are so fucking good at people-pleasing. you smile at her, and she asks you how you're doing, and you automatically say i'm good, thanks, how are you? while the answer swims somewhere in your little lizard brain:

how long have you been doing this now? mastering the art of your body and mind like you're piloting a puppet. has it worked? what do you mean that all you feel is... just exhausted. pick yourself up, the tightrope has no net. after all, you're cheating, somehow, but nobody seems to know you actually flunked the test. it's working!

aren't you happy yet?

[gibbearish]

love when ppl defend the aggressive monetization of the internet with "what, do you just expect it to be free and them not make a profit???" like. yeah that would be really nice actually i would love that:)! thanks for asking

[smokestarrules]

gotta say I am a huge sucker for how Adventure Time will sometimes just cut to Princess Bubblegum doing something extremely morally dubious like cutting off a tiny person’s limbs with scissors and then sticking those arms and legs onto another tiny person’s limb stumps but then she'll turn around and go like "Good morning, Finn! Are you ready for a sploinking day?" and whatever atrocities she had just been committing will Never be brought up again.

[ruushes]

companions re-classed pt 1 - karlach 🔥❤️‍🔥💪

[fremulon]

forget Resting Bitch Face, I have Resting Competent Face. People see me and think ah yes she can point me to the nearest train station. Fellow grocery shoppers ask if I know what kind of butter they should buy. If a strange man speaks to me on the street it is literally always an inquiry and never a catcall. Once someone randomly asked me what an equinox was and after I told her she nodded and said "you seemed like you'd know." why am I assigned oracle at random interaction

[vmkhoneyy]

“People are inherently terrible” no!!! Have you ever seen a child wait for their friend while they tie their shoelaces? Have you ever known someone who would bring hurt squirrels and rabbits and mice to the nearest vet just so it doesn’t suffer? Have you seen someone grieve? Have you ever read something that hit your heart like a freight train? Have you looked at the stars and felt an unexplainable joy? Have you ever baked bread? Have you shared a meal with a friend? Have you not seen it? All the love? All the good? I know it’s hard to see sometimes, I know there’s pain everywhere. But look, there’s a child helping another up after a hard fall. Look, there’s someone giving their umbrella to a stranger. Look, there’s someone admiring the spring flowers. Look, there’s good, there’s good, there’s good. Look!!!!

[musubiki]

my favorite fields of mistria boys 🥰

[ewwww-what]

Ugh. Literally just let her go home???

[hinamie]

unconditionally

[chloesimaginationthings]

FNAF movie Vanessa’s thoughts when meeting Abby..

[anna-scribbles]

adrien in my outfit from a few days ago✨ feat. my claws out converse

bonus:

[havenshereagain]

DPxDC Idea

Danny working at Wayne Enterprises as some sort of engineer, uses the in-house app for all his blueprints and stuff

He starts getting notes from a coworker in-app, and assumes its this annoying older guy in his department who constantly undermines him because of his age, despite his education and past achievements (i feel like in this AU the Fentons react well to the reveal and they work together on a number of non-lethal ecto inventions that have Danny's name attached to them)

Except one day his coworker mentions never using the app, and Danny suddenly realizes there's only one other TD he could've been arguing with in the notes of the app

[wickedcriminal]

Oh that's where he went