#ask-sauron

[woman-of-secret-shadow]

Disturbance - closed RP

Thuringwethil was sleeping in her bat form when she heard of steps coming towards her. Her ears detected him first, big, heavy footfalls that sounded as he stepped up to her tower. It was just beginning to near towards dusk and she wondered what he needed from her for her to be disturbed like this. She opened her eyes before he came in and had moved herself up onto the wooden beam above where she had been sleeping. Once he had entered the room, she shifted her form to that of her humanoid one, sat casually with one leg draping over the beam her black clothes catching the light of a candle and black hair swept to the side. "Well, well, what have we here?" she asked in a condescending tone, her blue eyes just visible from under her hair. "Couldn't find a better time than this, could you?" she remarked not happy that she had been woken up. @ask-sauron

[warriorswithin]

ask-sauron ( x ) 

i have a headcanon that Celebrimbor would express his love for Huan to Mairon (as Annatar) and Mairon would be sooooooooo pissed but couldn’t show it xDD

Celebrimbor: ❝I have some good memories. I miss Huan, my uncle’s great hound. He was huge, fierce and loyal, but also very gentle and warm. You would like him.❞

* Annatar blood’s boiling as he’s remembering all the damage Huan had caused him when they fought together and keeps a straight face*: ❝............ no more time for stories.❞ *turns away* ❝fu3%#$”!@!$56❞

[iluviella-cuthallian-101]

A letter left unspoken

My dearest Mairon, You say that I am a barnacle but in truth, I am a furious, windstruck storm of a maia with passion bordering on madness and romanticism bordering on obsession. To me you are my sun, moon and all of stars, yet something more too. But what I will become to you.... My kisses are the only part of myself your lips can fathom, and your hands cannot even touch my body without your fingers staining from all the storms that rage within me. Especially when our spirits are even partially joined. 
Yet you seem to love the type of women whose eyes are serene and bright as the summer days they spend with you, who are beautiful and competent in the ways the world is only to happy to accept. They love with lukewarm tenderness and just a hint of arrogance only a life of privilege can bring- they hurt you, perhaps, but never amaze you. But forgotten they will soon become, and there are many, many, women who will share the shade of their eyes and the nature of their well contained laughs. They will take months from you, any affection you dare to return, and even sobriety from you temporarily, but never anything deeper. You do not understand the ways, then, in which women, like me, love. I will take the searing amber from your eyes, the warmth of your skin, and the movement of your hips and hold them closer than you pull me, for I do not know what it means to feel without completion. To love, to feel, to touch without giving all of myself is a foreign concept I have no desire to become acquainted with, and I am sorry, but the only compensation I accept is everything you cannot give in fear it will destroy you. I will love you with all I have to offer, all of my madness and demonic nature and sweet laughter and devious attitude, and while there could be paradise between us, I offer no promises about what we will take from each other. Does that frighten you? It should. The truth is, I am as full of destruction as I am affection. 
You rarely crave the sensation of me on top of you, but crave you do nonetheless, but you do not understand me. Do not be fooled my the kindness in my eyes or the softness of my skin- I am a multitude of miraculous tragedies dressed in art. And as much as I want to love you and spread the deepest parts of myself over you like the tides on a coastal shore, I know you cannot love me in the way I demand to be loved. You are too accustomed to the idea of affection with no lasting consequence, and so you cannot possibly have enough to give without leaving me at least partly empty. I am someone full of presence, and any absence you leave will leave me bare. I do not know what yet awaits us but at least you know what love is, what my love truly is. It depends upon whether you are willing to accept it or not and as such, whether you will allow yourself to give in to it. Perhaps this is all meaningless to you, but I pray it isn't. I was not lying when I said about my fear causing me pain and I did not lie when I made my feelings plain. The only question left is: will you take the leap of faith? Will you fall and live for me? For it is only when you fall that you learn whether or not you can fly. So see a world in a grain of sand, and heaven in a wild flower, hold infinity in the palm of your hand and eternity in an hour. ~ Iluviella x

[iluviella-cuthallian-101]

(For Iluviella) Pro: would do whatever I want. Con: would become clingier than a barnacle afterwards.

“Then why don’t you?” she asked with one eyebrow raised and a half smirk on her lips. The fact that he would actually think about it, entertained her mischievousness even more. “Besides who’s to say I would give you what you want, nicely?” she questioned, teasingly whilst she feigned being insulted. “I wouldn’t give up easily and I’m sure I can handle whatever you throw at me.” she told him along with a sly wink, before walking away. “You may have even met your match, Mairon.” she purred.

[forgemaiar]

♚ ▲ ⌚

♚ Do you and your muses get along?

Most of the time. Sometimes Mairon is too desperately pacifist to even make weapons in self defense and I know Mitsa’s tendency to stick his nose into everyone’s business would annoy me irl but these guys help me get through a lot.

▲ Of the two three of you, who is more mature, you or your muse?

I wanna say Mairon is? He’s basically eleven or twelve but does his best to act with the maturity of an adult several centuries his senior. Mitsa’s the wisest but then again he also calls people insults as nicknames cough cough Osse

⌚ Is it easier for you to write as canon characters or OCs?

OCs hands down. My writing likes to evolve the longer I keep at the character and I can’t always make them stick to canon. That and I can only remember bits of canon on a good day there’s a reason I keep all my Tolkien books on my shelf and digital maps and stuff bookmarked in arms reach at all times look making everything up on the fly is just easier okay

[forgemaiar]

ask-sauron replied to your post: .

:o :o why resist!

|| mostly because I’ll be tempted to draw a metric shitton of icons and blog arts for him in one sitting and i really don’t need to break my hand right as i get a commission ||

[angelinmiddleearthroleplay]

Someone New

It was the dead of night in the midst of a forest she had never seen before. Sure, Angel may have spent a thousand years wandering in the shadows of middle earth, but there were some places she felt uneasy going to, like this one. By all rights she shouldn't even be here, the Orcs she had been captured by underestimated her speed and strength, not realizing she was an elf due to her rounded ears, allowing her to escape. Although she knew all to well how stubborn they could be, they were probably not far behind her.

Her wrists stung as the opens wounds left from the chain linked bindings that were wrapped so tightly, her feet burned from the flames they hung her above, and her black tunic stuck to the blood from the whips and knife wounds the foul creatures left. It was clear she had to find a place to hide and recover if she wanted to stand a chance in the wild without risk of infection, and as that thought raced through her mind, she saw it. Elven ruins seemed to sprout up from the ground all around her, it seemed to be completely abandoned by all save the small creatures who took shelter in it's walls, but she was okay with that. She was always able to communicate with the wildlife, and a few furry friends didn't sound so bad.

Without hesitation she darted into the ruins, zig zagging around the many twists and turns, looking for a place to hide as she sprinted further in. Finally she found a closed door that was surrounded by relatively sturdy walls, even if there wasn't that much of a roof. A hopeful grin lifted her cheeks as she charged it, expecting it to be locked, but as she gripped the latch and pushed in, it immediately opened, leaving her to stumble in. Throwing herself back and pushing the door behind her, allowing herself to fall against it and become silent, trying to slow her heavy breaths to listen for footsteps, unsure if any were still following her.

@ask-sauron

[gooooothmoooog]

☠, ☮, ♦, ☯, ☼ (*SPAMS* for gothmog)

☠ - angry/violent headcanon

Depending on his level of frustration, anger could range from lashing out and punching walls to ramming his fist into someone else’s chest. Either way, his flames would go white hot and he’d get very snarly. Anyone who truly made him utterly furiously would get a bad taste of his sword or whip- though he’d always make sure they lived to feel the pain from his lashing out. It would also take him a while to calm down, and he’d likely never see whoever had caused it as much more than an irritant after that. Something of a petulant child- except much larger and more dangerous. Cooling down would involve destroying the nearest nonessential things, or an all out brawl with an underling. One thing that would be guaranteed to actually make him mad would be people who weren’t Melkor or maybe one of a few others telling him what to do. 

☮ - friendship headcanon

Gothmog would be a very boisterous friend- he’d never do anything by halves and would likely be ever so slightly irritating with his tendency to go far too above and beyond, but he’d be intensely loyal and protective. Only friends would be allowed to get close enough to even brushingly touch him (besides his fellows among his own kind)- and if he was very attached, he’d likely nap on you more than once. And for smaller friends- they’d be allowed to use him like a jungle gym, although he’d insist that he was still stone-hearted. And he’d likely bring somewhat unsettling gifts, such as the sword of whatever elf was unfortunate enough to challenge him lately. Closest friends would also be the only ones to ever see his doubts and intense loyalty and love for his own kind. He’d also be the “watch me skateboard down this 180 degree slope” friend.

♦ - quirks/hobbies headcanon

He’d hum when he was distracted or deep in thought, usually more of a low rumbling noise, but it would always be his own tunes he recalled from his youth and earliest days. He’d also be prone to messing with his fingernails when he was bored or nervous, and biting at his lip until it bled when he was the latter. Since he doesn’t necessarily need food to survive (unless he’s done something severely stupid), he considers that to be something of a hobby and has a fondness for sweet things when he can find them. Another hobby is doing fairly ridiculous or stupid things just to see what will happen for his own amusement. He also likes to fly when he has the time for it, and the energy. 

☯ - likes/dislikes headcanon

Gothmog has an odd fondness for hobbits that he refuses to explain or admit to- probably something about them being small and cute. He’s also fond of drink, though he monitors it so that he doesn’t end up a flaming ball of fire. Another pastime is to simply sit and converse with his own people, or watch the mortals with Sauron and Melkor as they are ridiculous creatures. He is also not above messing with the Orcs.  He does not like being told what to do unless it is by Melkor or one of the other very limited pool of people that he respects. He also doesn’t appreciate people doubting his importance or insulting his pride. He also severely dislikes anyone with more power or strength than he.

☼ - appearance headcanon

I’m gonna go with my standard to answer this bc I’ve admittedly never really considered what he’d look like pre-Ainulindalë. Post that, besides being the largest balrog that likely did have blue/white hot flames (I’ve always figured that the flame intensity went up with the “spirit” of the balrog, and since he was the highest among his kind, I assumed he’d very clearly be the strongest.) I’ve always thought that he probably, being the highest of his ‘race’, likely could change between a ‘corrupted’ maiar form and his balrog one- that way he could do things like get around inside easier and sit on his second’s shoulder bc I’ve always figured he was a bit of a showoff like that. For the corrupted form, like my avatar, I’ve always seen him as grey-ashy skin with scarring and black burnt patches where the balrog skin shows through, and having both ‘usual’ horns and a second set + smaller ones, just because he was the captain, and a sort of fire circle between the horns. He was probably fairly well built, and fairly tall (certainly more than an elf), and I’ve always seen him as someone who’d just wear pants and a banged up caplet and not much else. The wings would be small, but still visible in ‘Maiar’ form, and he’d also retain a tail and his legs would be an odd inbetween of balrog and ‘man-ish’. The mouth would also be ‘balrog-ish’. In keeping with the idea of fire, orange hair. But he’d make a massive balrog, and would likely glow with white-hot flames in that state.