#expect art of those soon tbh

[bat-bytes-back]

drops ONE of my Postal OTPs and dips

#I made that yesterday and forgot to post it #RWS got to see it though #p1 x p3 #postal #postal dude #my other postal OTPs are p1 x p2 and pbd x alt dude btw #expect art of those soon tbh #rws #postal game #postal fanart #postal shipping #<- is that even a tag?? #well if not #it is now! #dude shipping #<- idk if that one's real either #bat draws

[thirdnap]

Hello,

Here is the life update of my past 4 years.

I began this blog many years ago in 2012 when I was only 14 years old, and I then slowly gained the courage to start posting art at 17 when I joined the K fandom. It's wild to think that I am now 25!

I was never quite consistent in posting since I only shared my art here whenever I felt like it, but it slowed down ever so gradually to basically 1 post a year for Yata’s birthday. This blog helped me with my fear of showing my art to others as I was incredibly embarrassed of my work for a really long time.

I soon moved to the USA from my homeland and attended animation school for 1 year, and then studied illustration and visual development for 4 years and I managed to accomplish many things I never could have imagined. I graduated with honors this past May, was selected by the faculty and head of department as my major’s trustee scholar, completed my 84-page art book thesis, got a few pieces into the Society of Illustrators, and my school even shot a mini docu-film about me, my art and my life where I got to share my upbringing. Art school was very demanding and at times tough but I managed to get a lot out of it :)

In July of this year, I moved to California from Florida and I’m much happier than I’ve ever been. I come from a very small country so I never expected to get this far in the art world. I drew Yata for fun in my bedroom whenever I wanted to and now I’m in LA breaking into the animation industry (receiving my first credit too!)

the drawings I share here are a very very small part of the illustrations I make weekly. I wish I could share them with everyone as I’m very proud of them but I enjoy separating my fandom life from my real life a little too much! Surprisingly I am working as a background artist at the moment despite never drawing backgrounds in this blog lol. I think many of you would be surprised at how different my work is from irl!!

It hasn’t always been great, so I don't want to make it seem like it's been all perfect. I’ve had many hard times too and at the moment I am extremely homesick since I haven't returned home in a long time but I think these are needed sacrifices.

However, I'm excited for 2024. I'm looking forward to growing as an artist and my goal is to continue to have fun with art as much as I have right now. I think I’m lucky to have a great support system including my best friend @fuurais who has been by my side for 10+ years and I managed to convert into a K artist too <3

Thank you for the support, for the kind messages, and for the excitement every time I post. I am always happy when I think of this blog and the friends I made. I unironically think about Yata every day as he is past being my comfort character tbh. I am currently writing this with full-on orange hair that I've had for a few years now lol.

I don’t think I’ll be as active as I was at 17 but I will try to not ghost this blog completely. There are a lot of things I haven’t drawn yet that I really want to do and I'd love to share those drawings with everyone.

Lots of love -

Tael <3

#k project #project k #yata misaki #misaki yata

[ceapa-mica]

A Relationship with Grand Admiral Thrawn 💖 - a headcanon

I can't stop writing! 😄 Thrawn's my newest blorbo and it's so refreshing and a pleasure to write for him.

Reader is gender neutral.

🔞 This will be a bit NSFW 🔞

I dedicate this one to @thrawnsboots

May you never recover from this one hehehe

So, you made a certain emotionally constipated blue Grand Admiral fall in love with you? Congratulations! 🎉 Good for you!

Now let's get into this headcanon of what you can expect in a relationship with Thrawn. 💙

Secrecy. As long as you're not engaged or something your relationship will remain behind closed doors. Thrawn values his privacy and wants to keep you safe from people who might want to harm him through you.

Keeping a secret like that aboard the Chimera is still impossible though. So eventually your relationship will become the biggest open secret on the ISD.

The crew is grateful since you impact Thrawn’s mood in a positive way.

Outside of his quarters you both will keep a professional distance.

Thrawn is a busy man, but he takes as much time as he can to spend with you, whether it’s having sex in his quarters or traveling to worlds in nearby star systems he's familiar with, showing you the Galaxy.

Every date with Thrawn is special. Visiting restaurants, hours spent in art galleries and museums, or a simple picnic in a beautiful landscape. He makes sure it never gets dull, is open for suggestions for the next date, and you will have so many meaningful in depth conversations together.

Those dates can become irregular at times given his busy schedule.

When it's just the two of you, he always shows you the love and appreciation you deserve.

As your relationship progresses he teaches you phrases in Cheunh and Sy Bisti.

Thrawn’s love language consists of acts of service, gift giving and words of affirmation.

Seriously, this man spoils you, he treats you just like you deserve.

Keep in mind he treats you like everyone else at your workplace though! Safe for glancing your way every so often when no one else is looking.

I hope you don't mind a partner who's super enthusiastic about art, because oh boy, Thrawn could talk about art for hours!

He has never been in a relationship before. When he joined the Empire, falling in love wasn't in the cards for him. He didn't expect it would happen…until you came into his life.

Your long time compatibility with Thrawn depends on what your own personal goals are.

Let's say you want to be at this man’s side for the rest of your life, I see engagement and marriage in your future, if you're up to it.

As a Chiss, Thrawn is a man of tradition. He won't share you with anyone. That's unheard of where he comes from.

Being in the Imperial Navy during a Galaxy wide war complicates things, but he's determined to keep Imperial affairs away from his private life, that includes your relationship as well.

Thrawn can become a bit jealous in situations where another man gets flirty with you, but never in a toxic way. He trusts you to make the right decision and remain faithful.

He will remind you in the bedroom what you would lose if you weren’t. In other words, he ruins you for any other man.

Tbh I picture a relationship with him as healthy, he doesn't seem to be a man who disrespects his partner y’know.

From a partner, Thrawn needs someone who's competent and just… gets him. He's different, not due to being an alien, I’m talking about his mind. (He's autistically coded)

If you put a serious effort in understanding him, show genuine interest in who he really is, not just as a Grand Admiral or because of his abilities, but as a person, with all his flaws, and you still love and accept him the way he is, this man is yours for life!

Stay tuned for the engagement headcanon coming soon!

Feel free to add to this headcanon! 💙

#thrawn #grand admiral thrawn #mitth'raw'nuruodo #thrawn x reader #thrawn x you #thrawn headcanon #blue man hot #thrawn fanfiction #star wars rebels #ahsoka series #star wars

[blingblong55]

Take me to church- 141(missing Gaz in prt 1)

This is based on a request/personal need tbh:

NSFW, 18+, MDNI ಠ_ಠ, F!Reader, monster au, incubus au, p-in-v, CNC(ghost part),

Part 2 (König, Gaz, Graves,)

It was a known fact that there were demon like creatures roaming the Earth. Shifting into their human form and living normal lives and their true identities would be revealed, if wanted, at night. You would never expect that the task force you worked with was infested with them. You were always fascinated by them though, always researched on them. You had grown fond of one kind of creature, Incubus. You had seen the stories, the art other people did for them. And secretly you wanted incubus to find its way to you, to make you his for the night. To leave his marks on you, to please you.

One fortunate night, you roamed base. It was past the curfew your commanding officers had set. You couldn't sleep, so you tired yourself by taking a few laps around base. You, by accident had seen their true forms (individually ofc) you noticed their horns, the way their eyes would glow, how they had an evil sinister smirk on their lips. Your eyes wandered around his body. His muscles being showcased as the moon shone on them, a small piece of cloth only covering his underparts. You didn't know why, but just the sight of him turned you on. His eyes scanned the base, he must've felt someone was observing him, then his eyes met yours. You quickly turned away, hiding behind some building. You closed your eyes for a brief second, hoping he hadn't seen you. But as you opened them, he was right in front of you, he was reaching down to you, touching your chin, caressing it with his hand.

Ghost:

"oh doll...what have you done to yourself?" he smiled to himself, licking his lips as he thought of himself in you.

"Ghost?" his face slightly covered by a different kind of mask. You didn't move from his touch. You had to admit, you kinda liked it.

His mind wondering into the possibilities. He knew he could have you at any given moment.

His eyes never left yours, they appeared to be searching for...something...it was as if his own nature desired your body, soul and mind.

I must have her, he thought.

"what are you doing all alone doll..its past curfew..." he softly says, his thumb brushing over your lower lip, he leans forward, his lips close to your ear, "you know I can punish you for this." his voice so seductive, so needy.

"will you though sir?" although this is what you had wanted for years, it was still..scary. You tried to look confident under his gaze.

Fuck, did he want to devour your sweet sweet cunt.

He had been with a few women, but he always desired you, yeah..just you.

The one that made his thoughts go from dirty to unholy.

He stopped himself from exploring even more into his own desires. As you looked up at him, with those sweet innocent eyes of yours, he sent you back to your room. But before you were far, he heard you say "will I expect you tonight?". He had to admit it, tonight out of all nights he dreamed of fucking you..he would be victorious. "perhaps." and with that you went back to your room. All the walking you had done eventually grew you tired. You laid in your bed, the moonlight peaking through your blinds.

Ghost walks in, he locks the door behind him. As he approaches you, the piece of cloth he was wearing fell to the floor. His body started to crave you. He loved how you only slept in a long baggy shirt. It was the most you showed leg. Tonight he let his true nature rise, unlike other nights when he had contemplated whether or not to make you his, but eventually just walking away. He was sure he wanted to enjoy every piece of you. Although asleep, he started kisses you. His hands roaming through your body. He eventually rested his hands at your breasts. Fuck did they make him think of the many things he would do to you. His hands lifted your shirt, he looked down, they were so big, so tender. His mouth soon started to kiss them, caress them with his tongue.

By this point you were in trance, your eyes opened, your body enjoying his touch, yet you couldn't say a word. No, not under his power as an incubus. "Fuck lovie, look at how you have me?" he said under his breath, his hands cuffing your breast. "tits so good" he commented. His hands wanted more, he wanted more. As he started to move down your body, he would occasionally look up at you. His deep chuckle filling the room, as he watched how your expressions would differ based on his touches.

"like it?" but you of course didn't respond. He loved how you stayed somewhat silent under his trance. His tongue starts to lick closer to your area. Your body grew impatient. His hands pushed you into the mattress. He wanted his meal to be slow, to be memorable, not impatient or needy. His tongue eventually reached the opening of your pussy. His tongue roaming, welcoming himself in you. You were wet, leaking as he deepened himself in you. He moaned as he started to taste your juices. His eyes roll back in pleasure.

"Taste to sweet doll." He whispers. His fingers soon wanted some of the action. He kneeled in front of you as your legs were spread open for him. One finger, then two. They thrusted in you, making you squirt in the process. It drove him wild knowing he had this control over your body. Your eyes were fixed on his. You looked so fucking hot in this light and in this position. A smile drew on his lips.

When he eventually knew you were ready to take him, he fixed his composure. "ready doll? you'll be a good girl for me won't you?" his eyebrows furrowed, his voice soft, but his eyes spilled the demise he would plant on your cunt. "open wide for me doll." his hands holding onto his member. You let out a small gasp as he made way in you. He was so big and so thick. His veiny member rubbing against your walls.

He started to thrust in you.

At first it was slow and steady, he allowed your body to adjust to his size and rhythm. But fuck, the way your insides wrapped around him drove him feral. His slow thrusts turning more vile in you. Your expressions feeding into his own thoughts, god the way you looked at him as he fucked you, as he went more faster and deeper in you, it did things to him. Unholy things. He wanted to chain you up and make you his personal doll, he wanted to teach you his ways, abuse your pussy until you begged him to stop.

Your body soon reached its orgasmic moment, your back arched. His hands trailed to your back, keeping you in that position for him. He leaned in, biting and kissing your tits. "fuck doll." he said thrusting in you. He wasn't done, he was far from it. One of his hands reached back to your aching pussy, fingering you as your tears of pleasure leaked from you eyes. He looked down at it, it was dripping your own doing. He looked back at you and grinned. His hand reaching to his mouth, he leaked his fingers and then he opened your mouth, he quickly gathered some of your juices and he spit on his hand. Making a cocktail of the bodily juices. He places his hand on your mouth before spreading the dripping cocktail around your face. Slapping you as he did this.

"fuck" he groaned as his own wave of pleasure would soon arrive. His thrusts becoming sloppy, your and his liquids mixing as he pounded into you. "Fuck..fuck.." he loudly whispers. He threw his head back as he came in you. He stayed in you, leaning forward, his lips touching yours. "you have no idea the nights I have planned ahead for us doll." he crashed his lips into yours once more. "you did so great for me, like the good girl you are." he said, kissing your jaw and neck, choking you as he did this. He gave you a few more thrusts before pulling out and backing away, enjoying this view. He smiled proudly as you leaked both of your juices out. "look at that" he kneels, his mouth now back at your cunt. He starts licking, drinking some as he does this, savouring you. He reaches back to your mouth and spits in it. "swallow us both doll..I know you want to." his eyes piercing yours.

He later started to clean you up with a cloth. He left the room to grab some water for you both. You soon woke up from the trance. You looked around. Your body glistening with sweat. You smiled to yourself. He walks back into the room, smiling as he meet your eyes. "You did well doll." he praises you. He hands you the bottle of water, and watches as you drink from it. "next time I won't be so gentle." he says, you nods. "dont want you to be ghost." his lips crashing back with yours. And after a long makeup session, you two cuddle one another. His hands gently touching your skin.

Price:

wanted to do things to you. Your body drove him crazy. The way you moved, the way you talked, smiled.

he was just so close to letting his own sadistic thoughts win.

as he spotted you, he knew that maybe he had an opportunity, finally.

"r/n?" he said as he walked up to you. Hands behind his back, smiling as he got closer. "sir, I know its late...but I," his finger on your lips, "shhh,"

"I'm sorry sir."

oh the things he wanted to do to you, show you it was him who was in fact sorry, sorry that he'd leave you dripping his juices.

"if you are sorry, then I'll meet you in your room. Go on now," he said, letting you walk away.

The way your ass, curves, and mouth would all look on him after he was fucking you, now that was a sight to see.

He waited and waited. Making himself horny in the process.

He walked inside your room, you were just sitting there, reading some book. He closed the door behind him, walking up to you, licking his lips. "well hello." he didnt waist any other second. His lips on yours, he lingered inside your mouth. "taste so good love."

"oh god." you moaned out, as his hand trailed down your stomach. "god isn't pleasing you love" his hands now in you. His fingers pleasuring you, making you taste heaven each time he was rough. "I won't be kind to you tonight." he crashed his lips to you once more. It was pure then passionate. The cloth that covered him falling off in the process. He kneels down, eating you out. He moans as he tastes you. His own little piece of paradise. "oh fuck!" you gripped onto the sheets.

"thats it love, you like that?" his voice husky. He smiled as his tongue fucks you. "yes, yes yes!" you start to grow more desperate, squirming under his own tongue. Without any warning, he places your legs on his side, for support. His now throbbing member in you. He was violent with it. just like he had warned. No kinds to you. Your body had to provide its purpose, to please his every need. It burned a little as he stretched you, but fuck did it feel good.

With each thrusts he sent waves of pleasure through your body. "oh fuck fuck fuck..." you moaned and whimpered. He fingered you as he thrusted in you, making your own juices, his lube. He reached down, kissing you as your pussy ached with pleasure. You kept moaning, he spit in your mouth. "oh fuck!" his head back, his chest gleaming with sweat and you. His beard leaked you. He then looked back down, reached his hand down and grabbed onto your breasts. Holding on as he fucked himself too deep in you.

He was drunk on your body, not thinking straight anymore. He came. He unloaded himself in you. Letting you have all of him. But he wasn't done. He flipped you over. Your legs weak, and he held your back to his chest. His hand traveling down. His mouth at the back of your neck. kissing it slowly. He cupped one of your boobs, barely fitting it in his hand. He bit your shoulder.

"a true goddess to let me have you like this."

His hand flew to your mouth, covering it so you can be quiet for once. He fucked you this way. For nearly ten minutes he thrusted in you, making you cry in pleasure and pain. You're ass hitting his thighs each time. "oh yes love...just like that." he cums once more. He tossed you into a pillow, his hand pushing you into it. "don't you dare move." he slapped your ass as he fucked you. You moaned and screamed his name. His hands marking your back. The symbol of an incubus. Blood dripping from the wound. "it looks good on you, my little slut." he spits out, cumming on your back. He moans in pleasure. He kisses you, and soon he walked away, cloth in hand.

Soap:

This man fucks! Doesn't give a shit if as in incubus he must fuck women that are asleep..he'll just fuck

But oh the minute he spotted you. God it was the first time he was nervous.

Approached with caution, "I take you cant sleep"

"no." "so can I help..you know I can" he was trying so damn hard to look confident...inside he was a mess

He checked you out from head to toe. Wanting to see what your uniform hid.

you were a wreck, his eyes seduced you into trance.

You led him to your room, moving to your bed as you removed your clothes. He walks to you, cloth on the floor. He kissed your neck. Leaving wet kisses as he trailed down to your shoulder. He bit a few times, wanting to leave marks all over you. Just so other demons can see it was him you belonged to.

He couldn't wait any longer. He pushed you to the bed. "stay like that bonnie" your ass up as your head rested on your pillow. He spit on his hand, and then rubbed it on your clit. Oh the looked he had on his face. Such a whore for him. A smug look on him. "oh bonnie, the things you are." he said and with no warning or any foreplay, he was in you. Fucking your tight little cunt. You moaned loudly. Just the way he likes them.

"You like that bonnie?" he thrusted in you. Your moans and cunt almost making him cum. But he wanted more time with you. So he kneeled down and ate you out. Moaning as he licked your insides. Loving the effect he had on you.

"oh..fuck fuck soap!" you said gripping onto the sheets. With one sudden move, he turned you around. And then you noticed his nipple piercings. You're smirked. "oh bonnie, you just had to do that huh." he spit on you, lightly slapping your tits before he reached down and bite them. Licking your nipple. His eyes not leaving yours. "such big tits huh?" he said as he sucks on them. You nod. "I need words baby" he stopped. "...y-yes" you replied. He smiles and continues with his bites. His hands perked your boobs. He now had his member between them. And slowly he moved your hands to them.

So you can hold them for him. And he fucked them. Moaning and whimpering as your tits brought him great pleasure. "oh fuck bonnie" he let out, almost as a whimper. He looked back down at you, giving you light slaps and with his other hand he opened your mouth, forcing it wide open. His moved his member to your mouth. "suck it" he demanded. Your doe eyes on him, doing as he says. You placed him inside your mouth. His head rolled back in pleasure. The room filled with wet noises and him.

"oh r/n, the....things you do"

He came inside your mouth and then all over your face. He closed your mouth, "swallow" he demanded. Your innocent eyes looking at him, "swallow my cum bonnie, please" You nod, and then he kisses you. It was so sticky, the taste of him. His cum so thick and good. He tasted himself in your mouth. He moved back, getting off the bed and watched you.

"play with yourself" he said. You just nod and spit on your own fingers. His hand on his member. You fingers yourself, it was slow at first, then deep and fast. "oh fuck" you moaned. He jerked off at this view. And when he couldn't take it any longer, he moved to you, removing your hand and placing himself inside.

He thrusted in you, deep and slow. Like he enjoyed to watch you squirm and plead for mercy. And then it was fast and deeper. On your stomach, he could see himself, thrusting in you. Oh that view fucked with him and soon he filled you with him.

"oh yes pretty girl" he moaned loudly. Holding your hips as he came to his orgasm. His fingers on your aching pussy. Fingering you, enjoying how you squirted. And he kept thrusting. You soon felt a knot on your stomach. "come for me bonnie." he said, hand's on your hips, leaning his imprints on them. You soon came, hips running wild as this wave of pleasure rushed in your body.

"soap!" your hands flew to his arms, leaving your nail marks on them. Oh did he love the pain this brought. He came once more because of this. And when he stepped back as you leaked him, you kept moaning his name. "oh soap, fuck, fuck" he walked to you, your pretty face flushed and with red marks from his slaps. "oh you liked that bonnie?" he asked. Your brows furrowed, nodding a yes. "I need words bonnie, " he cupped your face and softly said, "come on pretty girl"

"I loved it," your voice shaky, feeding his ego.

----------------------

A/n: okay so I feel the need to make two parts mainly because I got too overwhelmed working on this one alone..besides..I want Gaz's to be extra long and I don't want to strain your eyes.

Anon, I hope this is enough to feed ya until the next part

REQUESTS ARE OPEN

#cod men #cod smut #price mw2 #m #modern warfare x reader #cod mw2 #call of duty mwii #cod mwii #ghost mw2 #mw2022 #mwii #mw2 fanfic #cod mw ghost #mw2 #captain john price #cod #cod 141 #cod ghost #cod modern warfare #cod price #cod soap #cod fanfic #cod x you #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty modern warfare 2 #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #mw2 smut #ghost smut #simon riley x reader

[neonghostcat]

Hello everyone! I just wanted to give you something of a heads up/state of the author thing for anyone wondering! I have spent a few weeks just... chilling, goofing off, reading some of the stories in my Marked to Read Later, obsessing over various cultivation-type video games (thanks @roxiusagi for getting me into both Yi Xian and Immortal Life... This is me +1ing those as recommendations, btw! Yi Xian is officially free-to-play now, so you too can get obsessed!), dealing with holidays/irl and so on!

I'm about to start getting back on track with fandom, which starts with queuing some lovely art that's been posted in the last few weeks and then starting on AO3 replies!

❣❣❣ That's your warning: Anyone who's posted AO3 comments, please expect replies starting soon! ❣❣❣

After I've made a reasonable dent in those, I get to start working on Joint Custody! Yay! I'm sure someone is out there going, "Wait, it's been months... you've not even started yet?" And the answer is ✨No!✨ I've been goofing off, as I said! 🙃 TBH, I've been worried about burnout and didn't want to just go through the motions - I wanted to write with my whole heart. But I'm starting to get the itch again, which means it's about time.

I'll post a progress report once I have a better idea of how I'm going with Joint Custody, but you may get a couple of Cultivate extras before then. I imagine replying to everyone's comments will send me running to Scrivener.

Thank you for being patient with me! I hope you are all well! 🥰

#author blog

[zucchichat]

(just some sketch i did for the art club-)

From the post about my art trademark (omg u guys I WANNA HUG U ALL AND SQUISH U TILL YOURE MASH POTATOES U GUYS ARE SO ADORABLE AAAAA💖💖💖)

And the post to imitate my artstyle, i have come to a conclusion:

- you guys see my art trademark as my:

SKULL SHAPE: I was actually surprise by this, i REALLY didnt expect that😳😳😳 is the head shape that unique??? caz i used to see it everywhere- (twitter mostly) actually, there's kinda a reason behind why i choose this shape :) im really bad at drawing skulls, esp when its complicated, so i simplify it as much as possible to avoid an extra hour on the skull alone☠️ (my average time to draw head this style alone is fucking 10-15 minutes, THE HEAD ALONE OMG- just sketching no color NOTHING-)

EXPRESSION/FACES: i never thought ppl will say that too tbh, i thought i draw expression like many other ppl🥹 maybe ppl see Ink as the most expressive tho, since he IS 💖💖💖 when i draw characters, there's nothing behind those expression, i draw them mindlessly and brainless-😭

THE ONE LINE BROW THING: maybe this i can agree lol :)) I've been inspired alot from Japanese and Korean artstyle + itsroxxanex. Sooooo i did that, my friend used to kinda mock me ab it so i change to 2 brows for a while but IDK ONE BROW IS MY THING- it took just less space and i love simple things <3

SHADING: hmmm i dont really know ab this tho 😭😭😭 i think my way of shading is very generic. The only thing i think made my art pop is the highlights. Im kinda obsessed with light so jajdhdjsod I WANT LIGHT EVERYWHERE. Watching too much RossDraws just made me obsessed with color dodge- ...the shadows i just use default brush and mutiply and sometimes at more colors, thats it 🥹💖

JUST YOUR ARTSTYLE!: i dont think i have an artstyle yet 😭 idk i still change my style alot since June and im still growing, i changed my brushes almost every week and overall just utmost chaos. I somewhat still not satisfied with my artstyle, i want to soon find an artstyle that by just a glance you'll know its me😳😳😳 (ik its kinda weird)

#yeni talk #art #oc #oc art

[imakemywings]

Fandom: The Silmarillion

Relationship: Indis/Miriel (w/ Finwe/Indis)

Summary: Indis knows that Miriel is the only one who understands their connection. This is why it should be Indis who looks after Miriel's body.

AO3 | Pillowfort | SWG

Warnings: Necrophilia/non-consensual somnophilia (not sure which is more applicable to Miriel's corpse here tbh)

Photo credit to Kelly Sikkema on Unsplash.

__________________________________________________

            The Noldor had a saying, that a craft object remembered the hand of its builder. This was said often about homes, which were no less a craft than anything else the Noldor built. Indis had found it a charming saying in her earlier sojourns into Tirion—the thought of a building holding its own care and memory for the hands that had brought it to being—but it was slightly less endearing to see it from this angle.

            For the house of Finwë remembered its builder well. Míriel Serinde breathed in the walls of the royal palace, not least because her tapestries still hung there, themselves the most wondrous memorial to the departed queen the Noldor could have contrived; because her son glared at Indis from doorways Míriel herself had erected. Those first few weeks she spent in that house she expected to round a corner and come upon that imperious look on Míriel’s round little face (She had held herself like a queen long before she wore the crown of the Noldor.)

            But of course, Míriel was gone. She had been gone for years. Her son was more than half-grown (He had all of Míriel’s haughtiness and pride with none of the temperance of age). She was gone, but not gone:

            When Indis commented on some decorative little pots Finwë had in his study: From Míriel’s foray into ceramics…it did not last long.

            When she complimented a rice pudding from the royal kitchens: It was Queen Míriel’s favorite desert.

            When the people came before her to speak to the queen: We hoped you would lend your favor to the Fiber Arts Guild; Queen Míriel always supported us most generously.

            Even where none meant to offend, the hand of Míriel Serinde seemed to hang over her husband and her son—and now Indis too. She had stepped into the shadow of this woman and it seemed there was no edging out of it.

             But of course, there were other, more concrete problems for her to attend to—for one, that the palace of the Noldor had been running without anyone to truly manage it since Míriel’s departure (and truthfully, since Fëanor’s birth). There were countless things for Indis to review, restore, and in some cases, rework, and there were varying degrees of resistance to each of them.

She made a point of leaving Míriel’s tapestries in place (though she made sure they were all given a good dusting), hoping this might placate Fëanor, but it did not seem to do much good. He still needed time to adjust, she thought (It was why she had talked to Finwë about putting off having any children of their own, so as not to overwhelm Fëanor with too much too soon).

            Indis found even her own thoughts trending towards the former queen. She had given Míriel little enough thought before, except to admire her from a distance and be admittedly envious of Míriel’s fortune. She remembered being in Tirion once for a formal appearance of the king and queen—how radiant and powerful she had looked, bedecked in all the Noldor’s finery, glittering in jewels beside her comely, noble husband. How Indis had wished to be in her place, even as she celebrated Míriel’s joy! What a childish wish, she thought as she knelt among the orchids, carefully plucking away the weedy ingrowths. Now she had it—Míriel’s husband, Míriel’s house, Míriel’s son—and yet it all still belonged to Míriel, didn’t it? Míriel’s handprints were all over it, just as her fingerprints were impressed into the porcelain pots. These things remembered their builder.

            It was in the spirit of these thoughts that Indis first lied to Finwë. Not that she had never told him an untruth before—though she tried not to, for she did not think much of lying—but it was the first time she had ever planned to lie about a thing, and carried it out. If she told the truth, she worried he would discourage her, by word or even only a dip in his dark brow, and Indis would acquiesce. He would not stop her, but Indis would stop herself, and she did not want that.

            “I thought I would go walking out of the city today,” she said at breakfast. Finwë smiled at her over the congee with the besotted look of a new husband.

            “Ah, yes? This day promises to be a lovely one. Shall we go together?” For a moment, Indis almost accepted. Wouldn’t it be nice, to go walking with her beloved, and enjoy the peaceful scenery, perhaps take some food with them for a picnic…perhaps even Fëanor would join them, and she would not do what she meant to do.

            But no. That would not do, not that day.

            “I had wished for a quiet time to think over some things,” she demurred, offering a little smile so he might not think anything amiss.

            “Do I talk so terribly much?” Finwë teased, and Indis’ smile grew.

            “Nay, my lord, only I am so easily distracted!” Finwë made a small gesture with his hand.

            “Trouble yourself not, wife. Míriel preferred her time alone as well; I understand.” This mention of her made Indis all the more determined to that day’s course (Although she had told him before she did not mind if he spoke of Míriel, for she had lived and been a part of his life and it seemed unfair to relegate her only to the past. Little had she known how unnecessary that concern was!)

            She dressed warmly, for spring was still early, and a chill still in the air, and stepped out into the golden light of Laurelin. Her gray palfrey she took at a relaxed pace up to the gardens of Lórien, fretting once she was on the path that someone might see her.

            Míriel was still there, of course. Privately, though Indis had never dared say it out loud, she had thought that once Míriel had made her choice to remain in Mandos, that her body would begin to decay, but no such thing had happened. She lay there as smooth and fresh as the day she had first laid down; when Indis knelt at her side, she half-expected Míriel to sit up and complain about her rest being disturbed.

            The queen was as lovely in death as she had been in life—or at least the last months of it. The full-cheeked, glossy-haired, strong-armed beauty in which she had existed before childbearing had robbed her of it had never completely returned. She was dressed in a simple robe, yet one whose soft fabric and delicately embroidered hem showed the time and care that had gone into it. A thin garment, off-white underlaid with blue; she would have been chilly in it that morning, if she had been awake to feel it.

Finwë had confided to Indis, during their courtship, of what it had been like with Míriel in the end. How the childbed crippled her; how the light went out of her eyes, how her warm tawny cheeks grew thin and sallow, her hair dull and lank. At times she seemed almost to be around a bend, he said, but each peak left her only worse off than before. By the time she went away to Lórien, she was nearly entirely bedbound, and even little Fëanor’s weeping and wailing could not stir her to more than dispassionate pity.

Finwë had been so sure that she could find the rest she needed in Lórien, and for a time it even it seemed she might. She gained back some of the weight she had shed, her eyes lost a touch of the glassiness they had acquired since Fëanor’s birth, and at times she even tolerated visits from her young son, though she avoided always any mention of when she might return home. Yet as with her other false starts, this brief healing seemed to leave her spirit only more drained in the end, and one day she simply laid down and closed her eyes, and never again opened them.

“Your son does not much care for me, I think.” There were so many things Indis could have started with, but it seemed somehow easier than all the rest to speak of Míriel’s boy. “I suppose I cannot much blame him. It is quite a lot of change, and we Elves do not always brook it well, do we?” She smiled thinly. A few wisps of silver hair stuck to Míriel’s lower lip.

The Maiar of the gardens tended to Míriel regularly, so that no animals disturbed her, and any debris from the dove-tree above her was promptly cleared away, so that the former (?) queen of the Noldor should not become covered in leaves or fallen buds. Yet she had worn the same hair and the same gown since she chose that hillock for her resting place, and somehow, abruptly, this seemed terribly sad to Indis. Clothes had been one of Míriel’s delights. (Indis would not admit it, but she had been through the storage room to where Fëanor had removed his mother’s wardrobe—she had seen the great variety of Míriel’s things and she could almost imagine the quick-fingered queen paging through her robes, the care with which she might construct each day’s outfits.)

“Finwë thinks of you still,” said Indis. She meant to say more on this theme, but found the words would not come, so she left it aside and moved back to the easier topic.

“He’s quite a clever boy, Fëanáro. You would be proud, I think. He has a mind as suits the crown prince of the Noldor. He’s a very beautiful boy too; I have no doubt that in a few years he will have all the young Elves of Tirion falling at his feet, if they have not already begun! He has a great deal of Finwë in his looks, but something else too, something just his. Yet Finwë says he is most like you in temperament.” Indis’ hands fidgeted in her lap.

“Your tapestries…in the palace…they are truly remarkable. I wish I could have spoken with you of them. I have some small crafts myself, but nothing so fine as that. I am trying to care for the gardens. Finwë says you did not pay overmuch attention to such things. Not as a criticism! Only a preference. I think your staff are unused to a queen’s meddling in them! I wonder if you would like the way they look now? Did you have a favorite flower? Was it the dove-tree? I could plant one for you,” she blurted out, as if she were seeking to appease some ill-content spirit.

She bunched her robe up in her hands against her thighs. She had not yet become used to the Noldor fashion and she found it at times awkward to move in; she thought again of Míriel’s aloof grace on the day Indis had seen her in Tirion. She moved like even the crown upon her head—which must have been considerable in weight given that it constituted possibly an entire mine’s worth of metal and gemstone—was simply a part of her.

“The Noldor remember you quite fondly,” she murmured. She reached out now, and brushed those strands of hair away from Míriel’s mouth. “I blame them not; by all accounts, you were remarkable beyond compare. If Fëanáro is anything on which to base a comparison, I believe it.” Míriel’s skin felt cool beneath her fingertips, yet it seemed to Indis not quite the same as the ice-cold frigidity of any other corpse. But perhaps it was only in her mind.

The gray lashes of Míriel’s wide, almond-shaped eyes lay delicately against her cheek. Her silver hair mingled with the spring green grass beneath her. Had she once rested so in the yards of the palace, Indis wondered? Napped in the afternoon light, enjoyed the rest of Aman, where no beasts or shadows preyed upon them?

“It seems unfair to me,” Indis said, feeling her throat tighten, “that you alone should be denied peace here, when all the rest of us have found it. I hope you have it now, my lady.” She touched her fingers to her lips in a gesture of respect. It was not a thing done among the Noldor, but it felt appropriate, and Indis thought Míriel would not mind one small Vanyarin tradition.

“I will let you rest,” she said, rising to her feet. In the end, she had stayed some two hours with Míriel, and could think of nothing more to say but the litany of her fears, doubtless uninteresting to anyone but herself. “I will do my best to care for them in your stead,” she concluded, offering a proper Noldor bow. “I hope this pleases you.”

She did not expect to visit Míriel again.

***

But she couldn’t stop thinking about Míriel’s hair. Specifically, that she had been wearing it in the same style for nearly twenty years now. It wasn’t at all how Míriel would have wanted it, was it?

How had Míriel worn her hair, Indis asked Finwë?

He was obviously surprised by the question, but he explained a few of the hairstyles she had preferred, which were relatively common among the Noldor—high, tight buns pierced with jeweled hair sticks and hung with combs, charms, and clips of all sorts. They still had much of it, he said, in the storeroom. Others, Fëanor had taken for himself. (Generally, Finwë allowed the boy whatever he wanted of his mother’s possessions, and there was a particularly soft look that came over his face when Fëanor entered the room wearing something of Míriel’s.)

Finwë said she was welcome to have a look, but Indis waited until Fëanor was out of the house. He disliked her giving any attention to Míriel’s things, and she did not wish to start a fight with him. There were chests of them, glimmering gilded hills of polished wood and jewels and filigreed metal. Indis spent some time sifting through them just to look. The Vanyar style tended towards something much simpler and far less inclusive of gemstone, which made Míriel’s cache of treasures particularly overwhelming to Indis.

Then, she selected a few things—more than she would need—including a lovely jade comb carved into the shape of koi, to stow into her bag. These things she took up to the gardens of Lórien.

Finwë had visited her often, in the beginning, both before and after her death, but Míriel had little desire for company in those days. Even at the height of her health, she had often wandered alone and preferred her own companionship to that of others, he had said. But after childbirth, it had seemed to weary her, having to converse with or even observe others.

Perhaps she would be irritated, if she knew that Indis was visiting her. (The Noldor had loved their queen, but few outside the most obsequious would claim she was a patient woman when it came to others.)

“I shan’t impose long,” Indis assured the queen when she knelt down beside her, setting her bag in the grass. “I thought only you might wish for a bit of change.” It seemed a silly thing to say to a woman who had chosen the constancy of death. Nevertheless, Indis called over one of the Maiar.

“Would you hold the queen upright for me?” she asked. “I desire to fix her hair.”

“Is there something amiss with it?” The Maia spoke softly, but her words seemed to resonate inside Indis’ head, as if she spoke at once with voice and with ósanwe, creating a faint echo.

“No, but it has been the same for such a long time. Do you not think she might like it changed?” The Maia might have shrugged, if she were an Elf; as it were, she only stared blankly at Indis, then moved forward to do as she had been asked.

She had to hold the queen’s body up, and her chin as well, as if she were a rag doll in the hands of a pair of children, so that Indis could undo the braiding already there, slightly mussed where the back of her skull rested against the ground. With her own comb, Indis carefully brushed out Míriel’s hair until it hung in a sleek silver curtain down her back.

It occurred to her as she brushed through small knots and tamed fly-aways, that Fëanor still regularly visited his mother, and might notice if her hair was different. It left her with some unease; Fëanor still had not reconciled himself to his father’s remarriage, and while Indis had much hope on that account, the boy was still quite sensitive about it, and was unlikely to respond well to Indis meddling with Míriel. Perhaps he would think one of the Maiar had done it, she hoped.

“She has such fine hair, doesn’t she?” Indis murmured as she swept it back behind Míriel’s cold ears.

“She is a very beautiful Elf,” agreed the Maiar.

“She must have been proud of it,” Indis thought aloud. Onto her fingers she dripped some of the osmanthus oil she had brought, and this she combed through Míriel’s hair to make it smell fresh and pleasant. “This is mine,” she murmured. “I hope that does not trouble you. I could not find any of yours left; I imagine Finwë has used it or given it away. This one is rather popular among the Noldor; perhaps you used it as well?”

She began to twist Míriel’s hair into the bun which she had planned for her, and then realized it would put her neck at an awkward angle when she lay back on the ground. Indis had failed to plan appropriately for a dead woman. So she let Míriel’s hair fall loose again, and instead began to weave it into a fresh set of braids.

“He took your pots down from the study,” said Indis as her fingers worked through Míriel’s hair. “But I told him to leave them be. Why should I need to erase the memory of you to be comfortable here? Can we not live together, you and I? In peace?” She combed the small, frail hairs behind Míriel’s ears into the braid. A few of the strands had come loose in Indis’ hands, and she wondered about that. Míriel would not regrow them now, would she?

“I wish I had known you more in life,” Indis sighed. “Perhaps then I would know better what to do, what to say. Fëanáro seems so certain I bear you ill will, but it isn’t so. I should never desire to have benefit of another’s unhappiness.” She almost blurted out that she had taken Míriel’s hair accessories without Fëanor’s knowledge, but at the last second remembered the Maia, and held her tongue. Instead, she quietly worked the jade comb into Míriel’s hair and clipped the hair along her forehead back with a small clasp on either side.

“There,” she said. “I’ll take her.” Gently, she took Míriel’s body from the Maia, and cradling the back of the former queen’s head, laid her back down in the grass. Míriel weighed but little to Indis; she thought she could have lifted her without much effort. “That will please her some, don’t you think?”

***

It was in the soft dark of early morning that Indis jolted awake, breath stopped up from a dream of something chasing her. The terror of being hunted was not pleasant, but it was the sickening feeling of only being able to move her feet at a snail’s pace that shoved her heart up into her throat. It was a familiar nightmare to her—perhaps because she was a runner, her mind focused excessively on situations where she was not able to do something which came naturally to her.

She threw herself out of bed (Finwë had offered to take Míriel’s side and give Indis his own, but Indis had waved this off as an unnecessary accommodation, and so she slept in the space where once Míriel had lain, where she had slept and stayed awake whispering to her husband and where she had made Fëanor) and padded quickly into the adjoining dressing room, which had blessedly been cleared of Míriel’s clothing before Indis’ arrival. Into the washbasin she poured a measure of water to splash against her face. She pressed her hands against her too-warm cheeks and looked up to the mirror to calm her heart.

But in the glass she saw only Míriel’s face; Míriel’s hands; Míriel’s long, silver hair; Míriel’s embroidered nightdress.

The scream that left her throat was still hers, at least.

Thankfully when she woke in truth it was silently, a chill sweat prickling along her spine and beneath her breasts. She turned onto her side and grasped weakly at Finwë’s back. He stirred, still mostly asleep, but rolled over and flung an arm over her. And yet, Indis could not shake the feeling of another body at her back, and she was not sure it troubled her as much as it ought to do.

***

Indis could have taken the dream as a sign Míriel was displeased about the changes to her hair, but she did not think dead Elves had that much power. Still, she kept to her work and her gardens in the days after. Finwë seemed to sense something amiss, but when he inquired, Indis put him off. He suggested they go for a ride, and the fresh air did seem to clear Indis’ head. Fëanor refused to go with them, and stalked off in disgust when Indis invited him. Finwë made to go after him, but Indis waved this off as well.

“He is upset,” she sighed.

“He need not take it out on you,” Finwë said with a frown.

“Give him time,” she said, reminding herself as well as Finwë. Fëanor was clever enough to be quite cutting, and young enough not to have the grace to restrain himself, but he was still a youth, and he had taken the news of his mother’s refusal to return to life quite hard. It would be difficult, she thought, for any child not to feel that a dearth of his mother’s love had caused her choice, even if it were not so. She was not surprised that the years since had not yet been enough to move him past it.

So they went out just the two of them, and Indis had not realized how much she had cooped herself up in the house with chores until they were out past the city limits with the breeze in her hair and Finwë’s laughter beside her. They alternated riding and walking alongside their mounts, and the vibrance of Laurelin was glorious to see.

It was in this relaxed, ebullient spirit that she blurted out to her husband that she had visited the body of his dead wife.

That brought the morning to a swift halt.

“Oh?” said Finwë, in the voice of someone very much attempting to remain casual about something they certainly did not feel was a casual topic. “Is that what took you away the other day?”

“I only wished to see her,” Indis said, somewhat breathless. “To pay my respects. I…we share so much now, she and I. It seems only right that I…offer some…” She fumbled for the right word.

“Nothing wrong with that,” Finwë said quickly, when Indis did not presently come to a decision on how to describe whatever offerings she had made to Míriel. “Only I…” He hesitated, and drew his horse nearer to hers. “I know it has been difficult for you,” he said softly. “There are many who have not forgotten that Míriel was queen. Yet you should not feel now that you live in her shadow. She would not wish that.”

“How can you say?” Indis asked, locking her eyes on his.

“Because I knew her,” he said. “She was not sentimental. A touch possessive, perhaps, but not sentimental. She would not blame you for taking a place offered to you. If she were wroth with any, it would be with myself! So.” He reached out and placed a hand over Indis’. “Do not feel you must placate her, or make some obeisance because you now sit on a throne that was hers. It would not be just to invite you into my home only to ask you to leave space for one who came before.”

“I’m being rather foolish, aren’t I?” Indis gave a breathless smile. “You have given me more than enough reassurance. Still, she was here, and I wish to give due respect to that.” She paused, considered, and then felt it not inappropriate to say: “She looked so…”

“Live?” Finwë said grimly, his hand tightening over Indis’. “’tis a trick of the gardens. I have almost though to ask them to release her body from their spells, yet…I believe it comforts Fëanáro, to visit her. This I would not take from him.”

“No, neither would I,” Indis agreed at once. “It was only stranger than I imagined it would be. It was not like death in Endor.”

“Praise Ilúvatar for that!” Finwë said fervently. On this, they agreed whole-heartedly, and Indis let the matter drop, and even Fëanor’s sour scowls when they returned that afternoon did not unsettle the peace she felt after their outing.

The unsettling Indis did herself.

Too many times that night she almost turned to Finwë to say that she agreed with what he said about not fixating too much on Míriel, but—surely someone should do something about her clothes! Surely Míriel Serinde would not be happy wearing the same gown for years on end! She had enough presence of mind to realize she would be returning this conversation to an uncomfortable place, yet the thought persisted.

Surely someone ought to change Míriel’s clothes.

Indis timed her visit in and out of the storage room quite early in the morning, when neither Finwë nor Fëanor was likely to be about. It took her two and a half hours of sorting through Míriel’s clothes to choose something. Her first had been a vibrant red robe accented with gold, but she realized what a shocking change this would make for anyone visiting Míriel’s body, so she forced herself to put it back (despite knowing how its colors would flatter Míriel’s complexion, its cut her shape), and choose a pale green with a pearly white complement. She stuffed it into a sack and put the sack in her own wardrobe to be retrieved later.

Only by the barest margin could she convince herself she wasn’t intentionally deceiving both her husband and his son, but she assured herself that even if it were so, this was necessary, and once it was done she would feel better, and she could let the matter rest.

Míriel lay undisturbed where Indis had last left her. No one had commented on the change in her hair style, so Indis could only assume that no one was bothered, or no one had traced it back to her.

“I brought you something,” she announced to Míriel as she knelt beside the former queen. “I thought you might enjoy a change of dress.” She patted the sack she’d brought with her. “It shan’t take long. I know not which were your favorites, so I picked one rather similar to what you have now.”

She reached for the close of Míriel’s robe and then hesitated. In her mind, the change had been perfunctory and painless, but now beside Míriel’s limp and lifeless body, Indis was forced to concede it would likely be rather difficult, and involve quite a lot of intimate touching.

“Allow me, Your Grace,” she murmured, casting her eyes down as she loosened the ties of Míriel’s outer robe and spread the creamy fabric open. It occurred to her she could have brought Míriel a fresh interior robe as well—but did she really need such things? Her body secreted no oils nor fluids anymore; she didn’t move to dirty it.

Shaking herself out of these thoughts, Indis moved her attention to carefully working Míriel’s arms out of the robe. It was hard to do, and she had to bend the queen’s arms and shoulders at awkward angles to slide them out, which spiked her anxiety.

“Finwë and I went for a ride the other day,” she said quietly. “How lovely it is to go riding here, knowing nothing will trouble us…he seems content now, but I wonder if he still misses you. He must, mustn’t he? How could he not? Could one ever cease to yearn for a lost partner? None can truly replace another person.” When she had Míriel lying flat on her robe, she worked her slippers off (she had brought a fresh pair of these as well) and then frowned. It seemed to her inappropriate to be manhandling a body this way, and she hoped none of the Maiar were watching her, but she was committed to the course at this point.

“Forgive me, Your Grace,” she said, and hooked an arm around Míriel’s chest, under her arm, to lift her up. Míriel had always been lean of figure, with skinny hips even after childbirth (it had given her great pains then) and small, neat breasts. Quite different, Indis thought, from her own body, thick around the thigh from the hours she spent running, and much taller than Míriel, who had stood more than a foot below Finwë in height. 

Slowly, Indis eased the old robe out from underneath the queen’s body and as she folded it to set aside, felt that she had broken out into a nervous sweat. Several times she looked around her, worried someone else might have come into the gardens and observed this act, but it remained empty of other Elves that she could see.

“This will make you feel better,” she asserted as she started to shrug Míriel into the new robe.

“Recently I mentioned to Finwë about that face he makes when focused on something in particular—I do think it’s a rather charming look—and he said that you told him often of how ridiculous it looked.” Indis gave a high, girlish laugh. “I thought it terribly amusing, that we both had noticed the same thing. It is rather silly-looking, isn’t it?” She hooked an arm under Míriel’s legs to lift the lower part of her body off the ground so she could smooth out the new robe underneath her. “Perhaps I should have told him I agree with you.”

She wrung her hands a little, and then started to pull the new robe closed, feeling her heartbeat in her ears as her fingers skimmed over Míriel’s chest. No warmth came from her now, and Indis felt acutely aware of the stillness of Míriel’s ribcage.

“I told him I had been to see you,” she said quietly, almost in a whisper. “But only the first time did I mention. I think he worries…he worries because we share so much. But I see it another way. It makes us sisters of a kind, do you not think?” She took great care in tying the close of the robe, to make sure it looked nice and sat well and wasn’t too tight or too loose. “I am happy to share things with you, Míriel Serinde,” she said. “It is an honor.”

She slipped the new shoes onto Míriel’s little feet, making sure the heel was tucked neatly inside.

“There,” she said cheerfully, almost panting. “Is that not more comfortable, my lady? Although, as we are both queens, perhaps I should call you by name. Do you think we might have been friends?” For a moment she fidgeted, then stuffed Míriel’s old robe and slippers into the sack. “I had best be gone,” she said. “The house will wonder where I am.”

For dessert that night, she made a special request: rice pudding.

***

At the party, Fëanor was the perfect young host. He was gracious with their guests and smiled charmingly at all who greeted him by name (although little of his bearing came from his father, he could at times sport Finwë’s heart-meltingly winning smile). He was present and talkative which was certainly not always the case, and even toured them around the house, expounding on the histories and techniques of Míriel’s tapestries and Míriel’s looms and Míriel’s inventions-that-did-not-come-to-be. It all would have been terribly laudable, and Indis might’ve even been proud, if he hadn’t done it all to humiliate her.

He made sure throughout the night that she was watching, and that sharp-eyed gray glare with which he caught her gaze left no doubt that his praise of Míriel was meant to show how unaccomplished and feeble-minded Indis was by comparison. But how could she or Finwë chastise him for honoring his mother in front of their guests? Clever boy, Fëanor.

He wasn’t wrong, either. Indis did not have great deeds or a fearsome temperament or a history of leadership to her name. At times, admittedly, his words stung, but she couldn’t truly be angry.  It was not even worthwhile to suggest to Finwë that it had all been done as a petty jab at her. Certainly it would improve nothing in her relationship with Fëanor to be seen as tattling on him to his father.

So she said nothing to either of them, and when she woke later that night and eased out of bed, there was a pleasant ache between her legs. Wrapping a dressing robe around herself, Indis slid open the bedroom door and entered the hall.

The path to the storage room was relatively undisturbed at that hour. Indis let herself in and then leaned back lightly against the door, exhaling quietly. The impulse that had driven her had not died down, but standing then among Míriel’s things, she could feel the shame of knowing she was doing something of which others would not approve trying to force its way into her consciousness.

It did not overcome the thrill of being there.

Alone amidst Míriel’s wardrobe, Indis shed her dressing robe and stood only in her underwear, the gooseflesh over her arms not a marker of any chill in the room. Her inner thighs were still tacky with Finwë’s release from earlier in the night; as he had pressed tender kisses to her throat, she could not help but wonder: Was it like this? With her? Was it like this when you made Fëanor?

Indis walked among the rows of fabric, running her fingers over Míriel’s tiny, meticulous stitches. Clearly the queen had favored warm, bold colors, and Indis could see at least some of the places where she had tried things that were not typical for Noldor fashion. Others she knew where styles or methods of Míriel’s own invention which were now commonplace among them.

Indis pulled a salmon-pink robe down from the rack and held it up to herself. Did Míriel’s friends try her things on, she wondered? Did Míriel make things for them? Did Míriel have friends? She must have! Certainly there were many among the artists’ guilds who held her in great respect. She put the robe back and continued, selecting next a sapphire blue gown, which she twirled about with herself, and then something which appeared to be an underrobe, but which was made almost entirely out of lacework, painstakingly hand-done. It would have obscured very little.

“For what did you wear this?” Indis murmured, rubbing the delicate lacing between her thumb and forefinger. That it was fitted quite well to Míriel’s size Indis guessed even from her limited knowledge, and judging by how short it was on Indis, could not possibly have reached below Míriel’s knee. (Nothing of Míriel’s was sized in a way that would fit Indis; even the queen’s bracelets were too small to clasp around Indis’ wrists.) With some reluctance, Indis replaced it and went on digging.

Next, she pulled down a bright yellow robe and its cut was so loose she couldn’t resist sliding it off the hanger to see if it would fit on her. It was pulled taut across her shoulders, and she could only just tie it off in the front—and it seemed somehow more obscene than simple nudity in regards to her breasts—but she did get it on, and the color wasn’t a bad look on her. There was a mirror which Indis had brought in before, when she was selecting a replacement outfit for Míriel, and she went up to it now, and turned this way and that to see how she looked in Míriel’s robe.

“What do you think?” she murmured. “I carry so much else of yours. I may as well wear your clothes. Who else will?”

For a moment, she fantasized about returning to the bedroom in this, about climbing on top of Finwë, and feeling their bodies join, about rocking on top of him in that robe and feeling it come undone around her as she moved and watching him look at her in this robe.

Biting her lip, she turned her head to sniff at the shoulder of the robe, but it smelled only of dust, and the powder with which Indis dusted her skin at night. When she took the robe off, the smell of the powder remained and when it went back on the rack among Míriel’s other things, this touch of Indis lingered. Now there was another thing they shared.

No, Indis could not be truly angry with Fëanor, for at the end of the day, Indis was queen just as Míriel had been, and she pitied him.

***

There was not much more that Indis could do for Míriel, but the notion of ceasing to visit Lórien made her stomach twist unpleasantly. Surely she could think of some other task for the former queen that might bring her again to Míriel’s side. It crossed her mind to wonder if the Maiar who tended the garden bathed Míriel’s body. She might require it less than a living body, but it must still need care! But this seemed a task perhaps to leave to them.

So it was without any clear motive that Indis went next to Lórien, and perhaps it was fitting that as she had no purpose, this was the visit she was interrupted.

The air always seemed to still when one stepped into Lórien: not in a stuporous way, more akin to the quiet lulling of laying about in the warmth of late afternoon, not dozing, yet neither waking, and feeling ever so content with all the world. (Had Míriel believed that Lórien would fix her, when she came?) The trees seemed to stir their leaves only lazily, and the heady scent of jasmine filled the air. Sound seemed softened in the slow air, and Indis did not see until she had rounded a clutch of glossy-leafed bushes playing host to a gossiping quartet of white-faced plovers that Míriel already had a visitor.

Fëanor sat by his mother’s side, reading something open on his lap to her. Indis came to a halt and the sound of his voice reached her when she turned her attention to it; from the tone and tenor, she guessed he was reading an academic text to Míriel.

He made some inquiry, and paused for several long seconds, looking down at Míriel, before continuing.

Indis felt her throat tighten and her eyes grow hot at the sight. She wanted to go over and pull Fëanor away, for a child did not deserve to call out so plaintively to one who would not answer. Yet she knew he would not listen; indeed, he would be in a fury to see her there at all, and she had best get herself gone before he turned and saw her.

Míriel had not wept when she left her husband, nor her son, and no Maiar reported she had shed any tears when she lay down to die, so Indis wept for her as she left Lórien, shed bitter tears for the grief of Míriel’s family, and all of the love of her that now had nowhere to go.

***

The Vanyar were the only ones in Aman to make regular use of public baths. Naturally-occurring steam vents and hot springs in their territory made such things easier, perhaps, and ease had paved the road for cultural norms. Indis found herself missing those days, of joining friends in great pools of steaming water to catch up on the day’s happenings. Tirion’s palace had a bathing room, of course, but it was for the private use of the family, and as she sat in the cooling water, she thought of the baths of Valmar, and wondered if Míriel would have ever joined her there. Finwë, she was certain she could convince, unless some need for dignity of office held him back, but what of Míriel?

As Indis rubbed a bar of sweet-smelling honey soap over her shoulder, her mind drifted back to Míriel lying in the garden of Lórien, still and cold and alone, and she wondered if she had company in the halls of Mandos, at least. Was it lonely there, she wondered? Did she ever yearn for her life in the treelight? Or was she as indifferent to her separation from the living as she had been when first she refused to return?

Indis had never gotten to make her final trip to see Míriel, and she had not gone back since nearly running into Fëanor there. Perhaps it was only right to close things out officially, she thought. It wasn’t that she thought the Maiar of Lórien were doing a poor job taking care of Míriel—only wasn’t it different, coming from another Elf? One who knew what it was to have a hröa?

And shouldn’t it be Indis? Míriel’s spiritual successor? Would Míriel not do the same for her?

Indis gathered the necessary supplies and hauled it all up to Lórien. As usual, no one stopped her or even inquired into what she was doing. The Maiar did not have Elves’ natural sense of curiosity, nor an innate understanding of what was or was not typical Elven behavior.

“The water is cold, I’m afraid,” said Indis as she squeezed one of the waterskins into the small wood basin she had brought with her.

This was the difficult part—once more she had to strip the queen, but this time, to the skin.

“It is too soon now, of course, and I have told Finwë as much,” Indis began as she made the most business-like approach she could to undoing Míriel’s robe, “but I was thinking of children last night.” A smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Perhaps it would be nice, don’t you think, for Fëanáro to have a little sibling? I sometimes wonder if it was lonely for him in the palace, without a mother, and with no brothers or sisters to play with.” She first removed Míriel’s outer robe before attending at all to the inner. “There are many things he could teach one.”

Her fingers trailed down Míriel’s breast, over the cold, bare skin before reaching the close of the robe, and she swallowed with difficulty.

“Do you—did you—would you have had more, do you think? It is lovely, is it not, to have such fruit of a marriage? Something made of both of you?” Her fingers trembled lightly at the tie of Míriel’s inner robe. “Finwë makes at least the start of the job quite easy.” She gave a tittering laugh, shifting so that her thighs rubbed together. “Was it so easy for you?” she asked unevenly, tugging at the tie until it came loose, and then gently easing Míriel’s inner robe open to bare her from throat to ankle. “I wonder about this. I would think it improper, but…well, it is something we both share, is it not? I wonder if he touches me as he touched you,” she said softly. “If it felt to you as it does me.” Her trembling fingers skimmed over Míriel’s exposed sides, pushing the fabric away until Indis could ease her arms out from it. To keep her clothes dry, she lifted the slight queen of the Noldor in her arms, her heart thudding against her burden, and laid her down in the grass nearby.

“I have not decided if I would name a baby something Noldorin or Vanyarin. I know her primary name must be Noldorin, of course, but I know the Noldor give also a mother-name, and perhaps it would be alright for this to be a little Vanyarin. It will be in their blood, after all.” She dipped a small cloth into the basin and began at Míriel’s collarbones, wiping her down with all the care of tending an invalid.

“How long did it take you to decide on Fëanáro’s name? Do you know he prefers your name? He’s almost never called Finwë.” Indis worked the cloth down each of Míriel’s arms, between her delicate, calloused fingers, over her palms softened by years of idleness. “Perhaps I should name my child something to match.” She sat facing Míriel and pulled her upright, leaning against Indis’ shoulder, so that she could wash her back, and then laid her down once more. Míriel’s breasts were still soft under Indis’ hand through the cloth, and Indis’ breath caught in her throat as she washed them, her hand trailing halfheartedly down to Míriel’s belly button. Indis removed the former queen’s shoes and thoroughly washed her feet, moving studiously up each leg. She had meant to wash between her legs as well, but courage fled her then, and instead she moved away to wipe Míriel’s face, her fingers moving carefully around Míriel’s heavily-lidded eyes and broad nose.

When this was done, Indis let out a long exhale. Her cheeks were hot to the touch; she nibbled at her lower lip, and had to jerk herself into action to redress Míriel and get her back into her usual position.

“Is this not more comfortable?” she murmured as she situated Míriel back onto her discarded robes. “’tis a far cry from what I would give you were you still here, but…alas, I cannot presently take you back to Valmar with me, even if I were to take such a trip. The baths there are quite wonderful though; always hot, and one almost always runs into a friend there.” She smiled. “Ah, and this, too—” She took some of the powder she herself liked to use and dabbed some of it under Míriel’s arms and beneath the curve of her breasts. A satisfied look passed over her face as she neatened the front of Míriel’s inner robe and secured it around her. “I am sure the Maiar here think not of everything.”

It often felt like stealing time with Míriel, so when her task was done, Indis did not linger much, and quickly packed her things to go.

Back in the palace, when she had put the bathing supplies away and left her horse in the stables, she sought out Finwë in his study, where she greeted him with warm kisses and pulled his hands away from his work.

“Had a nice ride?” he asked with a smile.

“Mhm,” Indis mumbled, leaning in for more kisses. “But I am not weary,” she added.

“Ah?” He finally grasped her insistence and it took little enough cajoling and groping for him to hoist her up onto the desk; she exhaled with mingled relief and pleasure as he entered her. She wound her fingers into his thick, dark hair, tugging and gasping quietly as his hips struck against her.

Was it like this with Míriel? Here? In this room? On this desk?

It was not the first time she had envisioned herself overlayed with the ghost of Míriel, but that afternoon it was different. Míriel was not a shadow over her, nor alone with Finwë, but rather besides Indis—or even alone with Indis. For a moment, it was not Finwë but Míriel she pictured thrusting between her legs, and then it was both, and she moaned, tipping her head back. Her stomach felt knotted with desire to feel Míriel’s stone lips against hers as Finwë drove her up to the heights of pleasure; she thought of Míriel’s stomach under her hands that morning, of Míriel’s shoulders and her fine fingers and her well-shaped calves and reached down to rub herself furiously, choking on a cry as she and Finwë finished her together.

Was it like this for you? she thought as she fell backwards against the desk, her toes curling, spots in her vision. Oh Míriel, Míriel, was it like this?

***

The ghost of Míriel haunted her son, and to a lesser degree her husband, and now she haunted Indis too, but Indis could not regret it. Míriel’s presence in her mind was not an unwelcome intrusion, but rather a warm companionship. It assured her there was nothing wrong with being compared to Míriel, for they were two of a kind, and they understood each other as outsiders did not. Even Fëanor’s most vitriolic words slid off of Indis after just a moment. He did not understand, but he could not be expected to understand.

If Finwë and Míriel’s marriage bond could never be fully severed, did it not stand to reason Indis had espoused herself to Míriel as well?

She lay in the divot in the bed where once Míriel had lain, and Míriel’s husband kissed her goodnight and good morning, and she bid Míriel’s son goodbye when he left for the day, and she sat upon Míriel’s throne—how could they not be bonded?

The light of Telperien shone gleaming silver above the rooftops of Tirion when Indis swung her feet out of bed. She smiled as she braided her hair back simply and dressed in something comfortable. The ride up to Lórien was quiet, though she passed some acquaintances on her way to the edge of the city and gave them a cheerful wave.

Lórien seemed cast in blue in the night light, and Indis felt almost that she walked in another world, some place removed from the rest of Aman, from the rest of Arda. She left her shoes with the horse and let the blue-green grass poke up between her toes as she made her way through the carefully-tended plants to where Míriel lay beneath her sepulchral tree.

“Think you of me now?” she whispered, laying down alongside the former queen. “You must; you are in my thoughts day after day.” She lay quite close, and rested a hand on Míriel’s chest. “Do you send me these dreams? Am I here with you now, or at home in bed?” She lifted her head and pressed her lips to Míriel’s; they were still and cold, yet soft, not how a corpse would be, not like the kisses Indis had left on their lost compatriots on the journey from the east.

Her hand fumbled at the front of Míriel’s robe and she slid her hand in until she could grasp and stroke Míriel’s thigh.

“Have you watched us, Finwë and I? Does it please you? I hope you are pleased. I think of you then, too,” she confided. “It would please me if we were seen by you, as you cannot join us.” She made little circles on Míriel’s inner thigh with her index finger. “I think he has great pleasure in lying with me…but I would give it to you as well.” She leaned over Míriel, her breasts flattening against Míriel’s body, and kissed her again. “Would you have it from me?” she whispered, her hand moving up to the juncture of Míriel’s legs. The nest of coarse silver-gray hair brushed against the first knuckles of her fingers. “Would you permit me, Míriel?” She turned her face into the crook of Míriel’s neck, where there remained traces of the scent of her own powder beneath the smell of grass that embraced Míriel. Her fingers lingered at the apex of Míriel’s thigh.

“I would have it from you,” she breathed, and plunged her fingers into Míriel’s cold sex.

Indis shuddered against her, pressing nearer, and moaned softly against Míriel’s shoulder. She bent her head down and closed her mouth around one of Míriel’s breasts, sucking and laving her tongue over the nipple until the clammy flesh glistened in the white treelight.

“So much already do we share, we should have this too,” Indis breathed, working her fingers in and out of Míriel. The flesh was not slick as it would have been were she alive; there was not the looseness of her muscles that would have come with arousal, yet neither was she a desiccated corpse. She was a dormant body; a thing in suspension; an almost, a maybe, a should-have-been. “I know our husband in his pleasure; I should know you the same.” Indis’ hand went on, but it was only she who reacted, flushing, whining, arching her body towards Míriel as she stroked the dead queen’s sex until her hand cramped.

“I shall care for them,” she whispered to Míriel, spreading her fingers and pressing her thumb against Míriel’s pearl. “I shall care for them.” She gasped at the aching throbbing between her legs and fought the urge to rut against Míriel’s leg like a beast. “Will you care for me too?”

When she could bear no more, she took her hand from between Míriel’s legs and lay beside her, staring up at the sky, panting, overheated.

“I wish you had lived, but if you had, I would never have met you,” she said. “What paradox is this?” She turned her head to look at her companion. “You have this feeling as well, do you not? This connection? There is a point of the thread of fate which weaves us together…and I am glad to know it.”

Míriel, of course, said nothing, and Indis looked back up at the star-strewn sky. For a long while then she lay in silence. So they might criticize her for wedding one already wed—but what did they know? Did they think Míriel was no longer a part of this marriage? Did they think her gone away? Gone in body perhaps, but not in spirit!

Indis rolled over and pressed a kiss to Míriel’s lifeless cheek. “Fear not. I will return to see you again soon,” she whispered.

#miriel #indis #mindis #miriel serinde #the silmarillion #tolkien tag #rocky writes #fanfiction #tolkien fanfiction #indis x miriel #so indis how are you handling the concept of remarriage

[pharawee]

I'm thinking of reviving my super random (and spoilery so be warned!) review posts for I Feel You Linger in the Air because I have so much love for this show and I need a place to gather my super random thoughts.

I read the novel back in spring not really expecting much beyond a pleasant read but it's quickly become not only my favourite BL novel but one of my favourite novels in general. Does it need an editor? Yes (but I'm an editor so I'm biased - but tbh I'd rather have these "imperfect" translations out there than not having them at all, and IFYLITA's translator did a really good job). But beyond that it's insightful and sweet with a hint of sadness and loss. It manages to capture the moment perfectly, painting such a clear and nostalgic (but not sugar-coated) picture of the time period(s).

I feel like this is exactly what the series is trying to capture as well. It's in the colour-grading and the lighting and the cinematography and the way both Jom as the main character and Chiang Mai as the backdrop (and I'd say almost a character in its own rigght) are introduced. It's in the mystique and the dread of Jom catching these glimpses of himself and what's to come. It's in the abrupt unravelling of Jom's ordinary life and the pain and loss (and later confusion and anger) he feels at not understanding how and why these things are happening to him - which imo becomes such an important theme later on as Jom gains understanding and acceptance. Because to me IFYLITA isn't just a beautiful love story. It's just as much about Jom (and Yai - but in the novel he's never a POV character until the special chapters, and he's never quite as aware of his past as Jom is, having lived every aspect of it) growing as a person. Not in a way that changes who he is - Jom is a very set and self-aware character who knows what he wants and I really like that about him - but rather in how he perceives those around him and his own feelings.

The novel also has a handful of spectacular and vivid bed scenes so I'm really curious how (and if) they'll approach them.

But on to episode 1.

I love this opening. It's so atmospheric and eerie. We feel just as out of place here as Jom does. And I love how he's the intruder here. This isn't his home, he's watching a very private scene unfold and it's instantly made clear that he's not (yet) wanted. The other Jom is more scared of him than he is in this moment. I also love how he's half in the light, half bathed in shadow, like he's already wandering between worlds. Ah, I love me a good foreshadowing.

And I love how we're then slowly introduced to Jom, to his work, his life, his mannerisms. He lights a scented candle, his flat is full of sketches, drawings and books on architecture. Apart from his work, he lives his life patiently and quietly waiting for Ohm, his boyfriend (who he met at university and who he believes is the love of his life). In his two years in London Ohm has never given him any reason to doubt his commitment, which is why his infidelity is such a heavy blow later on.

We are then introduced to another "character": Chiang Mai - as it is today with its busy streets and markets and landmarks. Old trees lining the waterways and what remains of the walled city itself. In the novel, Jom uses his knowledge about Chiang Mai to pinpoint where he is in the past and how things have changed. As an architect interested in art and culture he also makes a lot of observations about historical buildings and society - which is what makes the novel so special to me. You'd probably need a huge budget to visualise this on a similar scale in the series but they tried (and succeeded imo) with the market scene, and Khun Yai's house will soon become the visual focal point of the series anyway.

A house, which Jom specifically has been asked to restore by the owner even though he's only a few years out of uni.

And as with Jom's dreams, Jom already has a connection to the house. He's been seen by the workers when he wasn't there. He instinctively knows which key to use for the chest the workers found in one of the rooms. The chest contains several sketches that to Jom seem remarkable because they don't really fit the time period.

Hm, I wonder who drew those. 🙃

Of course, soon enough everything goes to shit.

And it hits even harder because Ohm's so much more callous and cruel than in the novel. In the novel, Jom almost becomes a bit of an afterthought, a side character, an inconsequential affair (and I suppose he's the affair here too) on Ohm's path to happiness. But here his actions toward Jom seem quite deliberate and careless. And his fiancée Kaimook is painted as just plain evil. It's like Ohm and her don't even love each other (when in the novel they do - with all the tragedy that entails).

I guess they really wanted to drive home how quickly Jom's life falls apart. And, damn, his speech about waiting for two years and somehow NOT becoming unfaithful was incredibly strong. Then again, he was the one waiting, holding his breath, essentially stopping his life to stay in Chiang Mai until Ohm returned. He's blameless, of course, but that's not exactly healthy either.

The attempted SA isn't in the novel at all. I get why they included it. It's very difficult to watch but it drives its point home. Content warnings would be appreciated though.

Then there's this. Commander Yai. I screamed. Here I was wondering if he'd make an appearance at all (and hoping they'd maybe end the series with a glimpse of him) but they just put him front and center.

The moustache is a necessity, I'm telling you. It wouldn't be Commander Yai without the moustache. Also, this is a fake moustache in an underwater kissing scene. All things considered this is amazing make-up. Embrace the moustache. Commander Yai is worth it, I promise!

Unfortunately, Commander Yai's early appearance might also mean that there won't be a second part of the series planned. They might just allude to Yai's past life without going into much detail - which I totally get. Another season about the Lanna period would probably be a logistical and budgeting nightmare. But still. Gimme!! 😭

Anyway, I love how Jom is immediately just so at ease with him. Granted, he's drunk, grieving and drowning but kissing a handsome, moustached dude during his near-death/time travel experience feels like the most normal thing ever. And I love how it's Commander Yai who saves him. The shot of him uplifting Jom was so beautifully filmed.

Good thing he's found by Ming my beloved and not a dozen angry bare-chested Northerners who promptly punch his lights out lol

And this is one of the moments where I wish I was (more, much much more) fluent in Thai so I understood more of the differences between Jom's Central Thai and everyone else's (old-fashioned) Northern Thai. I do understand there's a difference, and I do understand that they're using different vocabulary and some different grammar but that's about it.

Where is Jom's phone, though? He still had it in the novel and it's an important plot point later on.

I love Jom's brush with the old market. You browse, you buy.

Also Jom sitting down in a secluded spot and just devouring the food that was given to him. I don't know why but the scene really resonated with me. Maybe because it was as out of place as Jom must feel. Or maybe because it was so human - such a mundane thing to do after everything that's happened. Almost like the past is already much more soothing than the present that Jom has left behind.

I'm faceblind but that's supposed to be Ohm (in a past life), right?

Not Jom having an existential crisis over Ming namedropping his future father-in-law (and Ming pitying him in the background. He might be a bit strange, Ming, but don't even pretend you haven't already adopted him into your family).

Finally we meet the mystery man from Jom's dreams (sans moustache this time), and he looks just as suprised to see a familiar face as Jom is (albeit for very different reasons).

I love that they included the jasmine with the lantom flowers. Khun Yai only drinks jasmine-scented water so they're as much Jom and his flowers as the lantoms (and their meaning isn't as bittersweet either).

And then there's the underwater scene(s) which are just so imcredibly well done. So intimate and soft, and probably the only time Yai really looks as young as he's supposed to be.

So yeah, this series is so far exceeding all my expectations and I'm so glad we'll be getting twelve 1h+ episodes (and a special? And a second season? Please? 🥺) of this beautiful, beautiful show.

#jane watches stuff #i feel you linger in the air #i feel you linger in the air the series #ifylita #ifylita meta #spoilers #ifylita spoilers #this got a lot longer and more random than expected ehhhhh #never mind me i just need to dump all my feelings for this series somewhere #also #this has spoilers for the novel so if you want to watch this series spoiler-free please skip this post

[siberat]

I saw a while back you did some art of pregnant chubby drift and honestly I'd love to hear whatever headcanons or short stories you got on it tbh, we need more pregnant chubby drift in life

( added the art pic as well)

Due to his current state, the living room was the most used room nowadays. Expecting their first batch of spark/lings in the next few weeks, Dr/ift spent most of his time lying in the berth or cozied up on the sofa watching podcasts. The heft of carrying three spark/lings weighed him down.

Literally.

As his servos rubbed over his swollen- and sometimes moving- belly, he recalled the time he discovered their carrying. All the classic signs were there: morning sickness, mood changes, excessive tiredness, and, oh boy, the food cravings!

While Dr/ift considered him to have a broad palette, the treats he suddenly desired were out in left field. His normal foods were healthy, nutritious, and tasty. Now, his belly had an insatiable desire for sweets, briny foods such as pickles, and cakes.

The start was simple at first- the medic's snacks would be stolen from cupboards, or extra sugar cubes would be placed in the hot energon beverage in the morning. But as the days passed, the yearning for junk food seemed limitless! He’d reach in to steal another packaged cake to find he had long consumed them all. After supper, he would take seconds on those desserts Rat/chet was fond of. Ice cream was usually devoured with crumbled-up cookies and chocolate. And who can resist chocolates, peanut butter, and rich and creamy puddings?

This binge-snacking soon caught up with him: he sported a belly bulge. Yes, he was mortified at first, trying to hide his weight gain from his lover. His once sleek and tight frame now dropped and sagged. How could anyone find this blobby mess appealing? The swords/mech spent hours in front of the mirror grimacing as he pinched at the squishy, newly formed rolls. He nearly screamed in horror when he checked out his now wider aft in the mirror.

 And when the CMO discovered that starter belly, Dr/ift, being very cranky, nearly bit his head off, whaling in shame and defensive anger. And then he locked himself in the berthroom and cried, feeling guilty for becoming so irate with his lover. That was the longest night ever. Of course, Rat/chet attempted to soothe his distraught lover through the closed door, but it was useless.

However, the next day, the thought hit him like a ton of bricks. Was he carrying? Dr/ift nearly squealed with joy after picking up a test and testing himself! And you can imagine the excitement to be had upon his con/jux returning home. Both were delighted and celebrated.

With cakes, ice cream, and pickles, of course.

The evenings now consisted of pampering sessions. That belly swell was cherished, treated almost as if it were another living entity as Rat/chet stroked, caressed, and baby-talked it at any chance. Dr/ift briefly got jealous. Just kidding! He loved how Rat/chet cooed over his baby bump, smiling whenever gazing upon its swelled mass. Slag, when snuggling, the medic made out with the belly almost as much as he did with Dr/ift.

Anything Dr/ift could ever desire, Rat/chet provided. If there was a midnight craving and Dr/ift attempted to wobble his larger frame to the kitchen, Rat/chet would bark for him to lay back down as he got up to fix the desired dish. Even better was how the medic insisted on spoon-feeding him the treat, then rubbed his belly, whispering adoring words of encouragement as they drifted back into recharge.

Let’s face it: Rat/chet comes across as a crotchety old fart at times, right? However, he was such a doting creator. Whenever ankles would be swollen, he was there to rub them. Needed creams rubbed on his stretching and therefore itching protomesh? Rat/chet would eagerly rub some on. Later on, when Dr/ift really got huge, Rat/chet would help him shower, washing all the areas the swords/mech had trouble reaching on his own. Yeah, servo’s wondered, but use your imagination for that.

All the while, the doctor would continuously tell Dr/ift how much he was loved. If there were any doubts of still being attracted to such a large, bloated frame, Rat/chet reassured how hot the T/IC still looked. The frame of an expecting mech was a glorious sight to behold- just knowing his spark/lings were healthily growing filled his spark with pride and joy. He’d also show this admiration with all the kisses, cuddles, and caresses. Slag, one evening was spent with the medic kissing every part of the carrying mech’s frame.

The spark/ling room was all decorated and prepared for the arrival of their little ones. Pictures of cute cyberducks hung on the walls, three cribs with an excellent wood stain lined the back wall, and a study rocking chair rested in the corner of the room. Whatever the carrier would want, the other provided. Many nights, while Dr/ift was still relatively mobile, the pair would just gaze upon the nursery. Rat/chet held Dr/ift in his arms, kissing at neck cables as hands lovingly roamed over that big ol’ belly. Rat/chet would smile, proclaim his love to his con/jux, and tell him how much joy the swords/mech brought him.

Rat/chet always wanted to be a father

…. Hope you enjoy! Thanks for the prompt!

#chubformers #siberatart #Siberat prompts #mpreg #mechpreg

[pnjrnk]

GUYS IM STILL ALIVE OK??? keep reading if you wanna bother with the rest lol

im just one of those people who has a social media account for a bit and then loses interest in posting BUT i am still going to keep posting here!!!!! mainly because i have wayyyy too many followers to just stop posting lmao

basically i sorta stopped hyperfixating on gregstophe and south park in general and also ive been hating my art 😭 but im gonna get back into it!! and my art isnt that bad im just a perfectionist!! i actually have an idea for a gregstophe animatic but my adhd ass will never finish it lol. i might still try tho....

im having a Depression Attack right now so dont expect any new content really soon bc im trying to sort my shit out (it is very hard). but there is new stuff in the works and i WILL come back!!!! gregstophe tumblr hasnt been the same without me tbh.

tl;dr I WILL RETURN.......

#life update!!! 😊😍😆💕

[crabsnpersimmons]

Hi, hello, your animatic has been living rent free in my head and I've rambled to a friend how much I love it, so I thought I probably should do the same directly to you! (I know this was a gift for someone else so I hope it's not weird gkjhdsf)

First of all, thank you for introducing this song to me, I'll be listening to it a thousand times XD

Second of all, aaaaa I love how well you fitted all the images to the lyrics!! All the shenanigans and fumbles are absolutely endearing! I love Sun using his leg as a fake guitar haha! And Moon flying away dejectedly with the cable when they think they already blew it. All the expressions are amazing, and I love how they can go from smooth and suave to nervous wrecks in a second XD But they always look so heartfelt in whatever they are saying! And I think my favorite part is when they are complimenting y/n, quickly switching so that each can say what they love about them!

And omg when they turn into Eclipse to get on one knee, because that's the part they both want to be present for aaaaaaaaaa

I am so not normal about this animatic at all, incredible work with it! The art style is delightful and colorful and so much fun! I hope you are proud of it because my god is it an amazing animatic! ^_^

chaotik!! this is so sweet thank you!! i had a long day driving in the snow and reading this revitalized me!! (and no worries at all, a gift to one is a gift to all in the fandom. that's why I love gift exchange events like this! we all get to enjoy the fun!)

you actually covered a lot of the reasons why i wanted to do an animatic of the full song. it's a great song (sad it was cut from Frozen 2, but it understandably wouldn't have fit plot-wise) and just a wonderful balance of fun and vulnerability and sweetness. one of my favourite songs about love tbh. the line "I planned to really try to be the opposite of me" just gets me every time—the words, the way the music begins to slow, the way Jonathan Groff delivers the lines—it's just so raw

and Sun's guitar part was one of the first ideas i had for the animatic! just the way the lines are delivered always made me think of air guitar, so i was really anxious to get that part right (haha) it's still one of my favourite moments in the whole thing (the fact this silly bean is acting all suave one moment and then pulls back to strum his leg like a jester rockstar. gosh i love this guy!)

i initially planned to cut it off at the part Moon gets carried off, because i was worried about time. but there was just so much i wanted to do with the animatic (especially the rapid-fire compliments and Eclipse coming out) so i'm glad i was able to do it all! it was a big project, but i'm so happy with how it turned out and happy i could share this wild song with everyone too!

also! you reminded me i still need to share all the thumbnails and the memes i said i would do once i finished! expect those soon!

#ask the crab #thank you for sharing your thoughts with meeeee #i love reading them i do! #it means a lot that someone would watch (and rewatch) something i made #and then sit down and write down their thoughts and share them with me! #same with comments and tags! #i hold them so closely

[dangerousbride]

Mother your taste in anime has always been the same as mine is there anything airing or coming out soon you’re interested in?

Hii, the only one that caught my attention when I looked at the chart was "Maju to Yajuu" and I just watched the first episode and it did not disappoint!! Definitely the best I've watched so far quality and plot wise, even the music is good, so I'm definitely gonna keep watching it. I also watched "30-sai made Doutei dato Mahoutsukai ni Nareru Rashii" today and it's my second favorite!! Super adorable and funny, very pretty art style too. I'm definitely watching those two this season. Yesterday I watched "Metallic Rouge" which I thought would be in my top 2 but tbh the first ep was kinda boring to me, I'll give it a chance though and watch a couple of eps more (I was gonna drop kkss on the first ep and then it became my fav anime lmao).

Other than that, I tried to look for comfort anime so I watched "Kyuujitsu no Warumono-san" but meh... even the one with the little girl that loves animals had more substance... I mean neither is supposed to be taken seriously I guess but you need to have at least something interesting going on to keep ppl watching, right? And for the nostalgia I tried the one with the demon guy and the blonde angel but as expected it's only funny if you're 14 years old probably (why do I even try to give stuff with high schoolers as mcs a chance, god), waste of time.

And that's it, so 2 and a half so far lmao If anyone has any recs lmk please ^^ (not dungeon meshi tho, it looks like an anime i'd enjoy only if there's a ship I like and for what I've seen there are none).

#me? asking for recs? free time turns me into a different person lmao

[courtofmatchups]

ooo could i possibly get an obey me matchup? :) i’m an aries, entp, bi, she/they pronouns

i’m about 5’8 with shoulder length hair that’s relatively straight. i like to wear crop tops and high waisted stuff, my fashion taste is pretty androgynous overall and is kind of an 80s/90s vibe. i almost never wear makeup or do my hair. and i’m always bumping into things so i have several bruises at any given time

i make comics and i’m a grad student TA. i have a caffeine addiction and the sense of humor of a 12 year old boy. i’m known for my ability to remain calm and optimistic, and also for being relatively quiet but when i do speak it’s always something out of pocket. i’m not shy i just don’t got shit to say. i love to help people and also make them laugh and/or cry with my art

hobbies/interests/likes: gossiping, funny movies, making playlists, singing/karaoke, acting, writing screenplays and songs, drawing/animating, traveling, going on walks/hikes, sending cursed images in the groupchat, and every animal in the world except dogs and spiders. love any excuse to wear some sort of costume or goofy outfit

dislikes: i hateeee cooking it’s so boring. also hate being dirty i can’t function when i feel gross. not a fan of loud music or weed/cig smell either so i don’t go to parties/clubs often. i have massive sensory issues when it comes to bad smells. i dislike routine too i love change and challenging norms. i couldn’t be with someone who gets secondhand embarrassment easily cuz i’ll be weird in public and not care. in fact i’d hope that my partner would join me

my red flags are i’m terrified of aging and being undesirable and there is not a single body part that i haven’t been insecure about at some point. i’m stubborn and i’m a complainer i love kvetching about random shit. i am rather skittish and look scared/confused all the time like a wild rabbit. i don’t bring much to the table tbh but i can make you laugh i am always eager to try new things and my heart is true. i imagine i’d be pretty low maintenance in a relationship, as long as u are nice to me and don’t cheat on me we’re good

It seems to me you have captured the heart of...

The Scummy Second-Born,

Mammon!

:0

Someone who is chaotic as he is?? And smart as hell?? He's already interested. And as he learns more about you, that interest soon spirals into infatuation. But Mammon, being the tsundere he is, will try to deny these feelings, and ultimately fail. You're just *that* charming

Your sense of humour is what stands out to him the most. It's a little juvenile, but that's what he likes (Lucifer, prepare yourself for some bad joke induced migraines). And your calm and optimistic nature is something he can get behind. And when you say something completely unhinged, it might take him aback at first, but it'll grow on him

A lot of his interests line up with yours, like karaoke and movies, so you can expect him to take you to karaoke palours and to movie theatres. If it ever gets to crowded or too noisy, he'll get you someplace calmer and quieter as soon as possible. He'll notice it pretty quickly, as he's pretty observant, especially when it comes to you (in a wholesome way that doesn't make you feel like you're being viewed under a microscope, that is)

Whenever the two of you are apart, you can expect him to send you lots of cursed images to you also. Of course, you cannot forget about the unhinged yet wholesome texts you send to each other

You draw comics? Mammon LOVES that about you too, so please, draw a silly little comic about your misadventures. He's not gonna sell them though. You made those comics especially for him. As money-hungry as he is, those comics hold a special place in his heart.

He can understand your distaste for being dirty (he lives with Asmo after all), so he'll send you care packages with cute little soaps, shampoos, and different body lotions

You don't have to worry about Mammon ever cheating on you, as he's clingy as hell

If you ever overwork yourself from a caffeine-induced high (being a grad student TA is no walk in the park), he's gonna drag you to sleep. Please do not resist

In a nutshell, your relationship would look like this:

#court of matchups #obey me matchups #obey me otome #obey me shall we date #obey me #obey me mammon #om! mammon #mammon x reader #mammon avatar of greed

[rielzero]

So Much thumbnailing Done!

Making comics has never been sooooo exciting though.

Chapter 3 is finally getting progress, for my webtoon I realized it only need 10 pages total for ch3, rather than 15.

Then I proceeded to make thumbnails for my next bg3 comic. I'm using my bg3 stuff to practice comic making tbh.

I didn't expect it'd be this much, but learning to draw more traditional comic style is a thing I was interested in learning. So that is coming soon. I'm trying to get better with panel direction, sometimes my habit makes me draw just busts. I try to variate. Things will get better down the line!

What's next is mostly 3D stuff, so I'm trying to take it only a piece by piece to not burn myself out. I still gotta script more for the bg3 stuff and webtoon should take priority since I let it be on hiatus so I could play the game for 3 months..

Busy busy busy life. I haven't forgotten about rainbow week. I'll be using those art pieces / prompts to unwind mostly.

#webcomic #comic #bg3 #comic update #webtoon #comics #thumbnails #comic book #comic strip #oc #original character #digital art #drawing #webcomics #original comic #web comic #mini comic #my comic #comic art #ocs

[banalope]

Lately when I share news of my happiness and prosperity with people, it just becomes this opportunity for others to dig in and try to take a piece for themselves. it's been pretty shocking how it happens and who from. Maybe they don't realize the work that went into it, or the time and what it means to me, or what boundaries are anymore. Or maybe they never forgot, but I'm the one who learned. It's all for the best that I keep that kind of thing to myself anyway, blessings and self happiness are intimate things, unspoken things. Ive found myself just so excited and lit up that I open right up and bam-people immediately feel entitled to it. it's just kind of disheartening to know these happy glimmers that I worked so hard for, are the things I need to keep to myself, and can't share them with the ones I thought I could celebrate with.

To be clear I don't mean sharing prosperity as in say, a lunch shared, art done for, a conversation held, time spent or a friend helped. Those are the spoken things, the surface stuff. I find that when I open up, let loose and share my gratefulness, the pieces people expect are deeper than that, energy vampire shit. Colin Robinson shit. it's been a really good lesson honestly, hence trying to find the words to puzzle this feeling out here. get a little too real about happiness and soon, literal bits of what I've curated for a long long time now, those are the things people dig their fingers into first to make theirs. It just happens time and time again. Its a very lonely feeling. And you know what? I'm done with that tbh. Bake your own pie.

#It's kind of depressing but the unspoken things are truly just meant for the self #so its all a good lesson in the end tbh #blah blah blah delete later

[madame-mongoose]

Here be my questions :0

1: Will ooie be including the darker aspects of fnaf (Willam Afton, Vanny, etc) or will it have those removed?

2: Will this story be a long one with different arcs or a short one?

3: What are some things you’re excited for?

4: Is fanart okay and are there ref sheets of the characters?

5: Will we meet other employees or animatronics or will this story focus more on sun, moon, and y/n?

6: I’m assuming this is a no but might as well ask anyway but will there be an Eclipse?

7: What sort of troupes can we expect to see?

8: This isn’t a question but every time I see your y/n I think of a depressed Garfield

Sorry if you’ve already answered some of these questions before and if I came off rude- I’m not the best at wording things ^^’

Omg so many questions!! Ty :D

1. Most likely not, besides virus stuff. In all honesty me and Sy uhhhh DONT KNOW MUCH ABOUT FNAF ANDHSJ other than the DCA of course. I've only gotten past the daycare in my Security Breach playthrough. Fake fans I know lmao

2. Sy says probably shorter!! Not like super short but also not as long as CCRT or Solar Lunacy are looking to be

3. SO. MANY. THINGS. I can't even share like,, most of them 😭. The one thing I'm most excited for tho is for y'all to see how nasty and mean Sun is he's TERRIBLE (I love him)

4. YES YES fanart is ABSOLUTELY OKAY!!! I would cry if y'all draw fanart for this fic 😭 as for refs, the ref for y/n is here. And for Sun and Moon I don't have any updated refs?? But!! I will be posting full body colored art of them soon so watch out for that 😁

5. Yes we will meet other employees and mayyyybe other animatronics??

6. Sy doesn't think so bc they wouldn't really know how to incorporate them? And honestly I don't either akhdjs tbh I always.. forget Eclipse is a thing don't kill me lmao

7. Sy will be tagging stuff as they go but some things you can expect to see are hurt/comfort, angst/fluff, enemies to friends to lovers, bully sun and sympathetic moon, and some other stuff we'll figure out along the way!!

8. LMAOO THATS SO FUNNY I CACKLED AT THAT AJDHJS

Sorry this took so long to answer I had to send some of these questions to Sy!! In fact if y'all have any questions specifically about the plot or story of ooie @sycopomp is a much better person to ask ajhdsn

#sorry this took so long to answer #what great questions!!! #tysm for all of these #i loooove answering ooie questions #yall rule #our orbit is elliptical #ooie #monnie answers