THAT is the RUDEST POSSIBLE question! I refuse to answer– Soft in the back and middle, firm up top, it would depend on the size of the person in question, and fluffing would serve no practical purpose but is highly encouraged.—-
…..
I FORBID YOU TO REMEMBER ANY OF THAT
“…Well at least SOMEBODY’S enjoying himself….” >_>;;
Both muses are now irresistibly compelled to answer all questions both bluntly and truthfully! Take advantage if you dare…
Thank you, supplicant! Your offerings have pleased me. I will take these as due reward for my natural magnificence!
MANWE DID YOU SEND THIS?? I’M TELLING DAD
I don’t like this game. I get to choose the next one! Let’s play “Can You Run Faster Than A Pyroclastic Flow?”
“We found it to be exceedingly elegant, and melancholy…”
“I liked the colors!”
“You have true grace in your movements. The motions were evocative of great sadness and fading splendor–”
“It needed more pyrotechnics!”
“–two diametric opposites drawn inexorably apart, despite their desire.”
“Do you need someone to help you with the fire next time? I think I can help. You don’t need the whole stage, right? Or the orchestra pit?”
“All in all, a moving piece of artistry. I hope to see it again someday, perhaps extended and polished to perfection. A true dance of contrasts, envy, magnetism…”
“What if we got flames to shoot out of the balcony? And like, twelve smoke machines? I think that would really add something to the piece.”
“We are honored to have been the subject of your choreographic masterpiece”
“I lit the curtains on fire.”
“….”
🙂
Assuming the war was won, and I had free reign of Arda as I was always meant to have? I’d let them do whatever they pleased.
That’s all I’ve ever wanted; to do as I willed. No pussyfooting around the needs of men and elves and their fragile, pointless lives. The world was unjustly willed to the least of all my father’s children; it ought by rights to belong to us, the Ainur. So let them have it, as long as they pose no threat to my freedom.
As for the Children, I don’t care whether they survive my freedom or not. Let them carry on in cracks of the world, as I have done for eons, if they can.
But the thousand, thousand spirits who roam creation need not flock to me. What would I do with so many? Those who serve me serve me by choice, and always have. I have no desire for a flock of slaves.
You won’t believe me, but I say the maiar will be better off without the Theme, without Valar. Let them try their hands at something new, or continue to do whatever comes naturally to them without a patron breathing down their necks, reminding them always to whom they owe their allegiance.
Though, come to think of it, there are some maiar I wish were in my grasp…
Some whose spirits I would happily devour, whose fanar I would bleed dry over a deep gold goblet…. My brother’s fanatic herald, that witch who hides a nation of cowards under her skirt and her wretched daughter, the mutt who put his stinking fangs in my beloved…
Not all would live long in my chainless empire, that is for certain.
I… ought to explain.
Before the sun and moon, before trees, before the lamps, all the Valar and their attendants gathered to build Arda as they had seen it in the halls of the creator.
The work was seamless; we knew not tiredness nor hunger, there was no change of light to mark the passage of time, no seasons to break the years of labor. We did not rest; not for eons.
But every project has its complications, and at some point it became necessary to halt the production of earth’s materials in order to address certain… conflicts of interest. Not all the Valar agreed how best to implement the Theme, and Eru Iluvatar did not always answer their queries, or answer directly. So it was decided: once every seven thousand years there would be a sabbath. Work would cease, and the Ainur would discuss their progress, set new objectives, and refocus their mind and hearts on the glory of the Theme. We called it the Quietus.
That was the only time a maia like myself could leave aside their tasks and mingle with whosoever we chose. And I suppose this is a matter of history now, but after a time, I chose to spend that time in the presence of Melkor. Many of us did. He was immeasurable, bright, glorious… His notice felt like a beam of sunlight that singles out one flower from a field. The mightiest of the Valar, looking down, picking you out of the many– for an instant you were greater than all others, brighter, warmer, more significant to the universe.
Once, I stood in the palm of his hand and he lifted me to his eyes and said: “I have never seen a maia stronger than you. I would know you even in the Sea of Maiar. You are harder and more beautiful than all the others. Would that you were mine.”
I loved him so much. I would have done anything for him.
Would you believe that when I finally did enter his service, leaving everything I had known and abandoning my father’s care for the sake of him, I did not dare speak to him unless he bid me to? I could hardly look directly at him. It felt like an indiscretion. The Valar all have Vala mates– they do not consort with Maiar, save for Melkor, and they loathed him for it. Even we Maiar spoke of the act with distaste, gossiped about it in horror and intrigue. It was blasphemy. We are less than they.
He had to teach me, with many, long lessons, how to blaspheme. How to touch him without flinching. And oh, I longed to touch before I ever brushed so much as a finger against him… I am lucky that Melkor had the patience in those days to tease me out of my mold, else I might still be as chaste as a new-poured casting. But he has no reservations, my Master; he happily drifted weightless into my arms as soon as he was moved to, let me sink into him like an iron rod into molten glass. I do not even remember where it began. I had him across an anvil, against the pillars of Utumno, knelt before his golden throne, between his legs. God, how he sang… he was vulgar and sweet and pliant, all the things I was not. All I wanted was to keep him breathless, praising me, his claws on my back, his thighs around my waist, soft and searing, opening for me. I want that still, I will want it forever.
The world is ash without him.
Oh, any sort of smooth, hard, round protuberance will do. I don’t have a favorite. Polished stone or wood with a gentle curve to rut against is nice… It does rather depend what size I am at the time of urgency, however.
I would use my hands of course, but not since I had my little accident.
It’s not easy being both mother and father of atrocities. I have to get around.
…Though I dare say my lieutenant is not above using his wiles to secure alliances.
I’m sorry sir or madam anal butt stuff must be in the form of a question.
Grapefruit.
“I… suppose can’t deny the logic in that. But what is a lightbulb?”
In theory I don’t dislike hobbits… I hardly knew they existed until quite recently. I only wish they had more respect for private property.
…And nonsense, my cousin adores me! If I stop lavishing him with attention for more than a week, he invents some silly reason to come flopping about on my doorstep! He’d be bored and soggy without me, and he knows it.
You’re going to have to take that up with Irmo and his garden of pipe-weed.
Well, I supposed he’d have to keep them away from his puppies, first of all.
Cats and werewolves don’t get along very well.
Cats and DRAGONS now, they’d get along splendidly. Both like warm spots, sleeping all day, disdaining to respond to attention-seekers, and interrupting anyone who looks like they have better things to be doing then showering them with constant attention.
I think this means they’d end up staying with Melkor, draped over various fixtures in the throne room, just generally getting underfoot and being spoiled tremendously.
MisbehavingMaiar: Tumblr Archive 