Vassals of Deceit

Its yet another Ungoliant and another kind of horror drawing style 😌✨️

Also have a alternative version without her little snacks babies under the cut

You get me like no one else, bro. That Pharazon ship is already really hard for me to stomach, and when it keeps getting shoved in my face again and again in the angbang tag, I genuinely start to feel like I'm turning into its biggest hater.

No, your PWP fic where neither character is even named Melkor does not belong there!!!!! I don’t care that you also ship angbang or that you imagine it as "in the past" or whatever. Just use the additional tags instead, not the main one dammitttttt.

I hate that these people make me sound like a bitter, angry asshole, because they’re the ones being assholes, but no one seems to care, and people would rather encourage them to keep doing it by giving them what they want - sharing and supporting what they post.

Our mother of flesh😌

Which wouldn't be my problem if the very same people didn't harass and insult shippers whose opinions differ from the popular fanfic authors...

But also I just don't understand how you can be a fan of something and not want to read the books and form your own impressions, independently of what fanon tells you.

Melkor with the silmaril melting into him, becoming part of him & changing him

For some reason, I have always imagined Mairon’s hair as a living mass of fire — lava spilling over his shoulders, luminous and searing.

It can settle into an ordinary copper-red shade (the one that is common among Noldor) when he is calm or thoughtful, but it always ignites again when Mairon works at the forge, when inspiration overtakes him. And, of course, when he is furious.

Melkor always loved his hair, those dangerous, sparkling curls. He would wind tongues of flame around his charred fingers, and Mairon’s fire would always be gentle with him. It would kiss; it would never scar.

In the Second Age, Mairon becomes Annatar. He “bleaches” his hair into a pale golden shade and hides the redness of his eyes. Only occasional golden flashes remain within the green of his irises.

When Annatar works in the smithies, Celebrimbor thinks those green eyes look almost golden. Probably just a trick of the light.

When Celebrimbor speaks of the abhorrent Morgoth, fallen lord of slaves, the rim around Annatar’s pupils flares red for a brief instant.

One day Annatar ascends Orodruin, ready to forge the One Ring. I see him from behind. He removes the hood, and his hair spills across his shoulders. Fire blooms through it, spreading across the golden strands, consuming the entire mass of curls.

It does not fade. It doesn’t, it doesn’t, it doesn’t.

Mairon totally wore these heels when he was torturing Maedhros on his dates with Melkor