“Blow Northerne Wynd” – Helium Vola
As long as we are sharing songs about wind that remind us of a certain Vala, here’s one I just discovered. As far as lyrics go, it’s a rather generic love song in Middle English, so you may apply it to whoever you like.
Also just a friendly reminder, my Mairon has a bass voice, and he sings while working. ❤ Something to keep in mind while listening.
WELL GOSH LOOK WHAT TIME IT IS
THAT’S RIGHT NAUGHTY CHILDREN
IT’S JOEL FREDERICKSEN HOUR AGAIN
“You will be gentle with me”
His lashes lower as he nods. “Yes.”
“I will not be gentle with you.”
“No.” He agrees.
“Lay down.“
You are so much smaller than he is; your body grew lean and hard with duress, while his curves outward with strength; a luxurious excess of size and power. It overwhelms you like a forbidden feast set before a starving man. Your eyes are level with his collar bone, but still, he does your bidding without a word (his breath did halt— your heard it— he is surprised by your tone, not displeased).
You, in your dream, are driven by the inertia of denial. The less you examine what you are doing, the more you feel capable of anything. Impossibilities dissolve, taboos evaporate, morals avert their gaze for the duration of your sleeping trespasses. The less you examine, the easier it becomes. You climb astride him, lifting your battered legs, taut from riding and long marches, placing a knee on either side of his hips. From here you feel less overwhelmed. From here you can feel his heat, the rise of his broad brown chest, look down at his curious rapture and know that he is waiting for your next move.
You could strangle him. You could slap him hard across the plane of his leonine face. You could reach for your knife that you know is hidden beneath the mattress, and a viper would be less quick. You have done all these things before, and in the waking world, you would do them again. But now you rock backwards and listen to his long helpless groan; you let yourself be folded in, a warm palm on your back and one in your hair, and kissed (gently, because he promised— though there is tension in the jaw, an impatience that belies hunger in the stroke of his tongue, the frequency with which he presses his mouth to yours, the grip he has on the sides of your skull).
The dream is merciful in its lack of clarity; the sensations are vivid but the context is vague. You know it is him, but you are less sure that you are you. And since time is fluid here, your experience of a kiss flows seamlessly into perfect knowledge of what his lips feel like between your thighs.
You tell him to beg you for what he wants, and oh— he does. Those are delicious words in his voice… rumbling, soft and deep and desperate, pleading with you for mercy. You smile so wide it hurts, white teeth to the sky. Your mercy never felt so violent. You want his mouth around you because he wants it so, so badly, and because he is at your feet like a humbled mountain; because you ache for it, because he is shameless, and eager, and you know he will be perfect, that his tongue will curl like wet velvet around you and as you watch, his eyes will close with bliss and he will bury you in his throat until your fingers claw his hair for purchase.
He wants so much to please you, to hear ecstasy in your voice when you wail— but you don’t know why. You see it in his eyes how much he wants this, with longing equal to the insatiable cruelty you’ve become accustomed to.
It is because this is a dream, you think, that pleasure and forgetfulness seem to heal you; allow you both to come together as if all that mattered was how well you fit together.
You bite him and kiss him and ride him and he sinks into you slow, so slow! (he did promise…) He hardly moves and you feel as though you’re bursting; perched on the edge of overflow, but he is so gentle… why did you have him promise to be so gentle? The sounds he makes leave you panting, and still— his teeth scrape your throat, and still— his back rigid as the curve of a bow above you, bending in rhythm— and still— he calls for you, and just a feather’s touch will end you now and all you can say is his name— over and over—
You wake with it still on your lips.
(( please forgive my sins of OoC and also probably grammar and purple prose because it is five in the morning and my brain held me hostage until I wrote this I AM SO SO SoRRY *leaps into the garbage* ))
(( @misbehavingmaiar NEVER NEVER NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR THIS GLORY! This is absolutely beautiful! I love it and it caters to all my sins.. This roleplaying community really missed you and this is but one of the many reasons why))
meme: Send my muse a wet dream and they will rate it on how they wake up:
5 ((We have a winner!)) & 1
Ah… I missed our little arguments, Lefthander. You are obstinate as always, but a delight nonetheless.
If you really still wish to believe that I am heedless thrall scrambling towards some pallid revenge in the shadow of my master, while -you- were entirely free and in possession of your own destiny while pursuing your father’s doomed and dying wish, then I suppose you must truly need to lie to yourself in order to sleep at night. …Have you been sleeping soundly? I am curious.
((I just wanted to boop in real quick and say thanks for the opportunity to get back in the swing of speed-drawin’ and staying on model and generally practicing drawing/writing my two favorite assholes. …And people figures in general, actually. It’s been nothing but dragons up in here for a long time >3>))
Well we have a great dental plan…
Ah. In that case I must apologize for my rudeness! I didn’t realize you were seeking our favor. Welcome.
Reward is based on merit. Provide us with loyal service, or perhaps useful information, and bounty shall follow. You have my word.
Why, my dear creature! I did shape my own werewolf as I did the orcs! Ken you not the great wolf Carcharoth? Was he not a splendid beast?
Poor pup, if I were jealous of your mastery, I would simply take it! But I grudge not my lieutenant’s affinity for your people– you are a fitted pair. And, my wolfling, do not take this too hard on your pride, but your people are very few in number compared to my orcs, and not so strong put together as to be able to challenge me. Even without your loyalty, would the werewolves of the north truly turn on me as an enemy? I think not. You would simply continue to live, free and wild, as you have always done– hunting elves and orc alike, which does not displease me.
*strokes ears* There now, sshh. You are not in trouble. Good girl.
Well exactly! That’s what I was trying to tell him!
Ji, you tell him– rings, right? RINGS.
And who art thou? I like not this line of questioning, it reeks of the unclever fumbling of spies.
Our greatest strength by far is numbers, and the might of our fortress. Our weakness, the breadth of territory we seek to conquer and the brevity of orcish lives.
You have your answer–facts that any child knows– and you’ll have no more. Do not think I will forget your face.
Ossë, Ossë, Ossë! I did it specifically to annoy you, of course!
–!!*is zapped by the laws of meme space*–
Ow. Fine. It’s because they’re traditional symbols of power, wealth, and inheritance. They are conveniently sized (mine especially so) and easy to enchant. I could have made twenty scepters of power, or crowns of power, or anvils of power, but those are ostentatious, difficult to conceal, and not easy to carry around.
Rings can be worn in battle and are not seen as a target. Rings are passed from generation to generation. Rings are worn by every race and class of being in nearly all levels of society. And, as you said, people like them. They want to put them on. That was kind of the idea.
Melkor: It’s very difficult to determine a favorite “part” when all our parts are constructs of our choosing! That said, I quite like the way he does his eyes… And mouth. And shoulders.
Sauron: The bit where the leg parts meet the back parts? That whole… general area… *cough*.
__
Melkor: I suppose what first drew me was his doubt. He is so loyal by nature; it was alluring to shake his foundations, to cause unrest in such a solid foundation. And he was delighted by me… it was very flattering.
Sauron: The way he built and destroyed and built again effortlessly, completely against all strictures and plans… He seemed limitless. But especially I was won by his curiosity. Ah, that is, his curiosity at me in particular, as opposed to my contributions to a whole. To this day it… rather lights a fire in me to catch his notice, hold his attention.
You had a father you obeyed blindly and a godforsaken quest that doomed every one of your relatives and drove a wedge between kingdoms with a united interest. You never once glanced behind to see if it was worth it, did you? Not even when it burned through your flesh.
You chose to swear the Oath. I chose whom I served. It’s amusing that you think me beneath you.
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