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PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH

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@cabalisticdissonance
Reblog this if you don't mind if male muns play female muses, female muns play male muses, etc.
Literally just got my blogs back out of password lock and tumblr tried to get this one. >:v Either don’t force us to use emails or stop locking us out for password updates.
irmolorien
My brother wants to kiss your brother.
"Melkórë, I may have some doubts about your ability to freeze and burn at the same time..."
An icy gaze turned downward at upturned palms, following the marred leather that covered thick hands as they recalled the water from times of old before it served greater purpose. The guileful waters after the reveal that seeped mists in their efforts, caused the rains and frost and betrayed the voice of their growing malice.They were a pawn, a vessel, nothing more than a tool in the grand design. All they could do, any of them, was bring colour to that vision. Melkórë refused to believe it, they would shape the world into their own... But for now, they simply raised their eyes to Irmo as dark skin pulled into a grin. "You doubt what I can do?"
thebreathofarda
Manwë, the fool, Melkórë thought, would cause his own downfall. He'd been so willing, so ready to release them, entirely accepting of any lie they laid out in front of him. They ignored the unconvinced stares, Aulë's protective posturing over their sibling, Námo's ever present silence and knowing gaze as he stood so close to him rather than taking his seat. But it wasn't any them who they needed to speak with, it was their brother. And their brother, much to their delight, had been terribly easy to work over.
Melkórë had been watching him from their spot in the doorway as he sat idly and alone. He knew nothing of the lies, of the deceit and betrayal that littered their mind and kept bright their eyes.
They needed time. It would be easy but Manwë saw far too much – it was the approach they needed to figure out so for now they would target their brother. Melkórë stepped forth toward him then, not waiting for invitation, yet they would only go so far. They stopped short to kneel again at their brother's feet with their head low, golden light smooth across the thick curls of their hair and the shape of their shoulders, a dark figure once glorious and cut from stone. "Brother," they began, the overlay of vocals separating as the sound lingered, "I request your attention for a short while."
He again had over stepped his mark, perhaps it was unwise to have let his own spite get the better of him, but he could never resist when the stench of the Vala’s smugness permeated the room. A tremor of fear shot through him, though his expression remained unchanged. “Unhand me” he demanded, feigning indifference as he tried to pull from their grip. His voice, notably, lost its certainty.
Offering no relief Melkórë stepped forth to follow the motion, keeping the gloved hand firmly against that slender jaw. The moved easily with him but let long digits slide higher, digging fingers into delicate muscle at the joint. "Know your place," they bellowed over him, a sudden flare of anger brightening the fire behind their eyes. "Address me properly and I may consider forgiving your insolence."
From Mairon they turn their head, leering at the smaller male with colourless eyes unblinking. “I wonder, truly, how well you can hold to your claim.”
"I can be very..convincing.”
The Maia’s eyes hardened at their words, “I never thought your ego to be so fragile” his tone cold, but not devoid of caution, “I would not waste my time”. Pausing, he added finally, “sire”.
It could have all been in jest, the not-so-concealed threat, could have only been to get a reaction. But when the slighter being's tone shifted their caution had not been in vain. Unfortunately the scourge's left hand still shot up to grab him beneath his jaw. "Do not try me," they rumbled, leaning over him.
...I am very rusty BUT THE DEED IS DONE.
Where previously a work bench stood between them now remained only twisted bolts and Mairon, lifted in its place by either the front of his attire or throat, whichever turned out to be easier to grab in that moment. It had all happened quite fast, Melkórë unable to decide whether it was what the Maia had said to them or the lack of proper reaction.
Always a temper – and Mairon was no different. The two of them often clashed, although, while it may have been their own fault for allowing him so long to get away with so much and granting him such extensive liberty and control, Melkórë was growing tired of this insubordination. They weren't there to be Mairon's friend. They were in no way rivals.
And Mairon should have known that.
Known that the moment they turned eyes upon him, ferine and cruel, he had pushed too far. Their step had been slow and there had been no tension in the large frame, no malice, not until dark hands fell upon the thick metal that blocked them from the smaller's person. It was then that the anger swelled, by time it became visible in that short moment heavy moulds skidded sharply across the table which had been hauled up at an angle and discarded, spraying tungsten across the redhead's stomach, thighs and the floor around him where he was then ripped from his spot.
"Tell me, Mairon," they hissed, a similar sound to the vociferous cry of metal against black rock, "Would you so kindly repeat that?"
"I was thinking of something a bit more… radical. But tea should work just as well!" He nodded enthusiastically. "First let us try a more subtle approach though… Mânawenûz could get really angry if something accidentally happened to his Herald.”
The King was in the middle of the playing pool, yet when his voice was heard again, he was right between his brother and the Lord of Lorien.
I suggest that you part ways now.
There was absolutely no expression on his features, nor intonation in his voice.
Your woods are filled with Children seeking your intervention, Irmo; you should properly see to them. As for you, brother, I am sure there is something for you to do that does require your full attention.
"While I was thinking a subtle bait, your 'radical' could be after, if you wish, everything is set to appear normal; he shouldn't vanish. He doesn't do that." Irmo's nodding and the addendum of an emphasised 'accidental' kept colourless eyes fixed upon him. He was interesting, why hadn't they gone after him long ago? He wouldn't be so easy yet with a gentle covering they could have indirectly bounced ideas off him. Their lips pulled into half a grin when their brother's name was mentioned. "Quite the hen, is he not?" Melkórë laughed, voice low. "Mânawenûz' puffing isn't a subject to fear."
Even then they still managed to look partly surprised when their brother suddenly ended up between them, pedalling a step or two back if only to reclaim some more space. Melkórë rocked their weight onto their right foot, watching with lowered eyelids. "Irmo does not require my full attention, you mean?"
No, of course not.
Only… something… that could be easily confused with kidnapping—but definitely not actual kidnapping—more like a very persuasive and strong invitation…
The initial response was limited to a slow nod, Melkórë otherwise standing in silent consideration. "You mean a distraction..? I am of the opinion he would go for tea." Likely something to put him out, if they knew the workings of Irmo any, but they weren't going to say for or against.
irmolorien replied to your post:damnit eonwe no, bad, go back to your corner tell...
Would it be considered an act of evil, to make a Maia temporarily… unavailable?
Tempora..rily.. No? No, of course not. You are not..clipping his feathers or anything. Of course not.
The mention of Eönwë causes Irmo’s lips twitch with contained mirth. Still he remains fairly serious and answers quickly:
"No."
Tell me what?
Blue eyes fix the other two Ainur, yet there is hardly any expression of the King’s visage.
Their lips curl into a grin with Irmo's prompt reply, eyes shifting briefly in his direction then to Manwë's again. "It's nothing, Mânawenûz."
I still do not understand what is there to talk so much about regarding by ball pool and its balls.
The Maiar love to play in it - except Eönwë, but he is the usual exception.
Varda, did you understand why Irmo is still gangin up with my brother about this?
Manwë's confusion makes it partly more amusing, even though they meet their sibling with an exasperated stare. Melkórë slowly turns their head toward a shoulder, eyes staying fixed on their brother.
"Should we tell him?"
Irmo nods and smiles, visibly amused by the comment. Yet it doesn’t last long, as his expression suddenly becomes serious— suspicious. “Shiny? like… the Silmarilli… was that the reason why you wanted them so badly?”
Their own expression dropped immediately yet they were still, at least for another moment. When they turn again upon Irmo they gaze upon him flatly, unimpressed. Melkore could easily opt to remind him that, no, they were not an Elf. Instead, without so much as lifting an eyebrow, they speak slowly, "Yes, Irmo. They were shiny. I wanted them because they were shiny."
Melkórë is silent a moment, leaning back and toward Irmo a bit. “Is that to say he cannot do even exhibitionism correctly?”
"Perhaps he is doing something correctly though.” Irmo frowns. ”One of the Nandor seemed interested— instead of, well, the usual… a Vanya.”
Dark lashes lower partway, brows lifted high. "That may be," they draw their arms to fold loosely and low against their middle. "But they are shiny, and you know Elves. I do not believe it any fault of his at all."
"And now Mânawenûz is just showing his balls to everyone, yet forbidding us to play with them…”
Melkórë is silent a moment, leaning back and toward Irmo a bit. "Is that to say he cannot do even exhibitionism correctly?"