Lover, let me make my intentions plain.
We’ve lazy hours yet to fill together,
I want to be inspired by the weather:
Let’s bang like screen doors in a hurricane.
Courtesy of yours truly, because a friend pointed out the structure of that last line during a chat and dared me to write an actual poem with it in. So here we are: iambic pentameter, or close enough. (Roughly, anyway, but it fulfilled the dare. XD)
Sudden Rôg/Curufin snippet
…so thanks to some random chatter I wound up writing a thing? Um, based off the idea of Curufin in Gondolin… and then smith-shipping happened. Just a little snippet of Silmarillion fic.
He was immaculately dressed, this son of Fëanor, when he first toured the workshops; his name is noted as that of a craftsman, but he is not dressed for his craft all of the time. Politics is another craft, and one that Curufin dresses for most carefully.
He is not dressed for politics today. He is not dressed for craft, either. His long dark hair is in disarray, and red marks stand out upon his bare skin wherever Rôg’s hands have gripped him, but he leaves marks of his own and seems pleased by both.
Rôg’s skin is scarred and smithy-roughened, but not all sensations are dulled, and this one sears through his senses, rising molten and undeniable to set all his thoughts aflame.
New pics of my puppy Sirius! Freshly groomed and so fluffy.
What does Annatar like about Celebrimbor?
He’s so well-hung.
Adorable husky puppy I saw at the pet shop.
Some photos of my little Sirius, who’s now six months old.