#ask-sauron

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

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

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

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

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

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

@ask-sauron

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