"what an interesting thing to say." idle fingers pluck the strings of his lute as a distraction, a pointless little tune that he had no intent to put to parchment. his amusement at the drow colors it, changing to something a bit more upbeat. "I would say that you get used to it but even I want to take this lute and bash a head or two some days. it's the arrogance that gets me."
"I am a man of many talents, but mindreading the stupid will never be one of them." And of those, he had seen plenty. It felt as though the surface's plethora of infuriating idiots would only grow the further into the journey they went and, surprisingly, he had found himself longing for the comforts of home. The smell of spices in the kitchens. The excitement and anticipation of danger. The absence of the fucking sun. Lolth, it was enough to make the fighter sick to his stomach. "I do not understand how you possess the tolerance for the idiocy of it all."
@devoutur liked for a smol thing.
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I just think itβs romantic to be possessive over someoneβs death. No one gets to kill you but me. I want to hold you as you die. Your last breath should mingle with mine. I want your blood on my hands because Iβm the one that spilled it.
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darker vibes
β i would let you rip me apart if it meant loving you. β
β this fear you feel? it wonβt last. β
β you are my salvation. β
β i revolt you, donβt i? β
β get the hell away from me. β
β i want to sink my teeth into every inch of you. β
β iβll be your dirty little secret, if thatβs what youβre into. β
β worship me. until i tell you to stop. β
β donβt you know how sick with love i am for you? β
β fucking hit me already. β
β i would burn the world for you. β
β i donβt want to be good, no matter how hard you wish it. β
β i donβt know how youβve bewitched me, but it needs to stop. β
β fix me. β
β they die for love, you kill for it. β
β you are mine, whether you agree or not. β
β do you like it when i bleed for you? β
β i will keep hurting. i will keep killing. anything to protect you. β
β iβm starved for you, morning and night. β
β now i get to ravish you. β
β i am your god and your executioner. β
β you are doing so well, my pet. β
β youβre my sweetest poison. β
β letβs do something about that mouth of yours. β
β your fascination with me will be your death. β
β youβre the monster thatβs enticed me into your bed. β
β all you can say are pretty lies. β
β the fucked up thing is that it isnβt enough to just love you. β
β youβve broken me. all i can think about is you. β
β youβll beg for more. β
β an eternity with you would never satisfy me. β
β i would gladly let you drag me to hell. β
β everything iβve done.. every horrible atrocity, itβs been for you. β
β youβre a fucking nightmare. kiss me. β
β feel grateful that i allow you to touch me. β
β every time your lips touch my skin, you burn me from the inside out. β
β thereβs no black or white, only gray. β
β no one touches whatβs mine. β
β make me indifferent, make me horrible. β
β i could never be the one to love you. i can only be the one that kills you. β
β your lips are poison, your laugh a curse. β
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transferring headcanons over ->
there is an absence of gender or in which we understand it. I don't believe there is any sort of structure of gender within dwarves and often what is traditionally masculine or feminine constantly mix or blur together. A dwarf is a dwarf is a dwarf and for our would-be king the spectrum is ever changing. There is only what is considered to be beautiful or not by dwarven standards and a lot of that revolves around beards, hair, and the character of the dwarrow in question. As they were before Smaug, I think Thorin had a rather large beard like his father and his father's father but with the exile of their people and lose of their home came cutting it off in symbolism. They would keep it short till they had their home back. ( by dwarven standards, ignoring the symbolism behind it this is basically like 'they used to be so handsome..' ) Thorin used to carry themselves to these standards but have since had to let it go with only a few beads [each for a member of the company, eventually] that are woven into his hair. long winded way to say i will use they / them with the occasional he / him.
i will write a canon divergent ending where he and his nephews live. dis comes to retrieve her children soon after the battle ends and her anger does not wane for years. she is thorin's sister yes, but she is fili and kili's mother and her anger is just.
balin and dwalin are thorin's longest friends and closest confidants. while they trust in all the company it is these two that they holds most dear. it's in my opinion that dwalin is just a bit older than thorin ( some thirty to fifty years or so ) and so they were raised together. balin being dwalin's older brother got sort of a two for one deal with thorin tagging along. or would it be dwalin to was told to tag along with thorin everywhere? either way if thorin needs advice, it's either one of these two that they seek out. [and also these two that he apologized to first].
having thoughts about thorin.
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what color does your love feel like?
dark stormy blue
Sinking ships, raging seas and tumultuous hearts, love isn't easy for you. It's a struggle, a constant inner fight of should I? Can I? Do I? Feelings are hard and they rumble inside you in a dissatisfied mess that begs to be let out. Your heart screams and cries inside you and you... You can't, you won't. You're scared. And love is scary, it's hard and sometimes it just doesn't work out. People leave, people hurt, people change their minds. And you and your cold stormy heart yearn for the calmness, for the distance, to be allowed and able to simply not feel. And yet, you do. It rages, it fights and storms inside you and you try to keep it down, keep it quiet, to feel pretending not to. It's the burn of childhood friends growing apart, of parents that aren't quite there, of relationships that burn out. So you snuff it down with water, cold and calming and blue, blue, blue. But being loved by you is blue too, just not in that way. It's the soothing, embracing feeling of floating, the moment when you sink down bellow the waves and become one with the water, with everything. It's the balance, the dramatic yet calming sound of waves that crash against a rocky shore. You're the good and the bad, the violence of the storm and the watery peace right after. You're the blue, blue feeling and loving you is watery tears, yelled confessions that no one will hear and burying your feelings in a deep watery grave never to be found out about. Your love is dark stormy blue, it's vast and deep and all encompassing, it's safety in the surface of danger, it's trusting the unruly abyss and yet I'd gladly risk drowning just to feel what it's like being loved by you.
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i love when people act like in the scenario of feeding a vampire iβve not considered the fact that itβs dangerous. like yeah? Duh? part of the appeal you fucking casual
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@devourhe : [ relax ] and/or [ nuzzle ] π§ββοΈfor eres.
silence broken by the soft scratch of writing followed by the turn of a page. the occasional remark to grace them both over the book held between eres' hands. one would assume he would be smart enough to put such a dull book down but with more than half way done he'd much rather just finish. at least he can have an opinion over the whole thing. " i had such hopes for this one. it seemed interesting by the title. " another page is turned as rathain draws closer, eres more than welcoming the action, opening himself up to it.
he scratches a few more words, the upstroke of his scrawling stutters for the briefest of seconds as a face presses into his neck. curiosities bubble on this tongue but do not spill forth, instead silence. is it a danger to have him there? perhaps but eres does love playing with that danger ( even if it does cost him a few wounds ). a sweet little poison he cannot help but continue to indulge.
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