#oc: haven seed
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So a brief rundown on the family tree for Kit and Jacob after that New Dawn AU drop
Haven Seed is their biological daughter, the one miracle child they got 2 years after being in the bunker. Kit never thought she could have children, was told that after all of her surgeries after surviving the roadside bombing, but Haven managed to be born. She looks very much like John, dark hair, bright blue eyes, but she acts more like Joseph. She also hears the Voice, though often more as being told about the past. She is well aware of the things her parents did before the collapse, but she is more focused on the future.
Carter Seed is their adopted son, he and his sister Quinn are the children of a couple Kit killed during her trials. They basically help start her on her journey to being humanized once more after she is forced to face her guilt of leaving them alone and weak as defenseless children. Carter was 5 and Quinn was 2 when they entered Jacob’s bunker.
Carter wants nothing more than to make Jacob proud and follows him around like a shadow. Training with the men as soon as he is able. He has a fighting spirit and is quick to protect his family.
Quinn takes more after Kit, wanting to be strong like her mama, alas that means she also picked up some of her less than stellar qualities. She is quick to action and does not always think things through. She also has quite the temper.
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I meant to do little animation how concerned Claude offers like everything tomato cause that's his fave gifts and what he gives you as gifts eventually so I think he is like how dogs see you sad and bring their fave toy to cheer you up 8D so clearly that will cheer her up, right?
...but I didn't have the endurance to draw that, so 2 frame test gif instead! I didn't know you can do little animations in Procreate! I will experiment more in the future :>
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What’s your oc?
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
They're a digital entity that's so old they've forgotten their full name and what their original game or purpose was. They started out as something that looked like a PacMan and stole and ate pixels from other games and places until they'd made themselves into something that looked human.
They call themselves Doctor F. [Xe/hir/they/them] They can swap out body parts like people change clothes and regularly switch gender equipment depending on mood. They developed a glitch after losing a lover and almost dying from grief and are now a Herobrine type entity that spends most of their time on their Minecraft server that they pay the hosting for with a fake identity and selling digital art files on Etsy. Also they have a Testificate friend named Zile who's basically Chuck Tingle and they sell his writing online too to help keep the lights on.
Their server is a haven for Herobrines and other glitches to hide and recover from bad experiences with human players or people trying to delete them.
They have a giant castle they built that's a sprawling mess of cobblestones with a compete lack of coherent decorating. They share the place with several friends and anyone who needs their medical or coding help until they're well enough to build a house nearby.
They have electrical powers and wear rubber gloves at all times to keep from shocking people. Xe can also turn into a giant yellow and purple Chinese type dragon. [It's a huge body they built out of raw pixels that they can 'put on' and pilot around.] They can also portal irl through anything electrical that has a screen.
Their mate is the physical embodiment of the server itself. A lovely lady named Deerheart with a pair of antlers and long mint green hair. They have three kids too. Yaunfen who is an actual dragon from a Minecraft seed with the candy texture pack. And two little Among us beans; Jaime and Tuono. All three kids hatched from different eggs that Doc walked around with in their inventory until they popped like Pokemon Go eggs. Yaunfen also has a pet Smiler from the Friday Night Funkin Backrooms mod. Lately they've acquired a new babysitter for the little beans because Yaunfen rescued a burnt up Ruin Eclipse model from the fire ending of Security Breach and fixed them up with a new scarecrow-themed outfit. [They have amnesia and are currently only one person who calls themselves Equinox.]
Doc is... a force of chaos, but it's usually on accident. They're a power of friendship believer with a bunch of random degrees they got from online courses. They're helpful, curious, generous, optimistic, and violence is always their last resort.
Doc would fight god for a friend and literally die for love.
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Homestuck Group RP Server
Homestuck Ever After: 2
Welcome to Earth C! We start our journey on Earth C: a planet of carapacians, humans, consorts, and trolls alike. Our heroes have just entered their new universe after seeding it with the matriorb and the ectotechnology of the carapacians. Years have passed thanks to the powers of time and space, and Earth C is blooming with life. Our heroes arrive in a world made up of four kingdoms: the troll kingdom, the carapacian kingdom, the consort kingdom, and the human kingdom. But not everything is peaceful on Earth C. There are scuffles between the kingdoms at times, and the only place completely at peace is a location between them all- a haven called New Skaia City. Our heroes, in an attempt to mediate the growing tensions between the kingdoms, act as mediators and spokespeople for the four kingdoms.
However, something is amiss in this new world. It seems the game is not done yet. Long dead friends, relatives, and even adversaries are being revived. How will our new heroes deal with a world of turmoil and revival?
-18+
-You are allowed 4 canon characters and 7 ocs
Link: https://discord.gg/Z7wTh3gn3n
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NEW OC
Name-Zara Hale
Birthday-June 11th
Age-25 years old
FC- Milan Dixon
Job-Botanical illustration is the art of depicting the form, color, and details of plant species. They are generally meant to be scientifically descriptive about subjects depicted and are often found printed alongside a botanical description in books, magazines, and other media. Some are sold as artworks.
Backstory- Zara Hale was born not in a sun-dappled greenhouse but in the steel embrace of a New York City fire escape. While other children counted pigeons and watched sunsets, Zara traced the veins of fire escape plants, her tiny fingers marveling at the tenacity of life sprouting from concrete cracks. Her grandmother, Nana Elara, nurtured this fascination. A retired nurse with hands calloused from both soil and syringes, Nana instilled in Zara a reverence for the healing power of nature hidden within every leaf and petal.
Their apartment, a haven from the urban symphony, bloomed with rescued orchids and repurposed tin cans turned herb pots. Nana would recount stories of her island home in Jamaica, where vibrant hibiscus kissed the salty breeze and bougainvillea painted rooftops in crimson. It was there, under the mango tree whisperings, that Nana first learned the language of plants, passed down like heirloom seeds through generations.
As Zara grew, so did her artistic talent. Her notebooks became botanical bibles, filled with meticulous charcoal sketches, capturing the delicate dance of petals in the wind, the sun-kissed sheen on a dewdrop, the intricate geometry of a spiderweb spun on a dandelion's globe. The concrete jungle provided endless inspiration: wildflowers pushing through sidewalk cracks, ivy reclaiming abandoned buildings, moss whispering secrets on damp brick walls.
FC-
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Ick...
TW/CW: Disordered eating, bodyshaming, abusive relationship, toxic headcanons, minor "Flight of Icarus" spoilers
____________________
So, I saw on Twitter today that some Eddie Munson self-insert girlie had made some post (that was thankfully poorly received) about how they see Eddie in regards to his relationship with women, his type, and how he would treat them, and fellas, I've gotta say, it was NOT okay. Just...50 shades of disturbing.
Now, before I move on, I just wanna say, you're obviously free to hc whatever you like with whatever character(s) you like, but imo, there comes a time when a hc is so far off the rails from what/who a character is, that you're basically just creating an oc, and uh, this was definitely one of those times.
Essentially, the post insinuated that Eddie would not date/fuck fat girls (coming from a fat girl, I don't see this preference as being inherently problematic) but the post went so far as to say that Eddie has a "magic number" and would "force girls to weigh themselves for him" before taking them out, and "if they're over that number, he's done," and would never be seen associating with a girl who wasn't skinny unless he "pitied them."
I'm sorry... what? Tell me you have NO CLUE who Eddie Munson is without telling me, you have no clue who Eddie Munson is! 😂👎
Eddie, the safe-haven for the socially ostracized, who canonically hangs out with and uplifts those who don't fit society's rigid molds, is 100% not judging people (friend or partner) for their appearance, and he certainly isn't going to abuse them by shaming them for their weight or humiliating them by forcing them to 'weigh in' to have a chance at dating him.
On top of this, if we're factoring "Flight of Icarus" into the mix...Eddie is canonically willing to move Heaven and Earth to keep anyone he vibes with, trusts, and opens up to in his tiny circle, especially if they throw him the slightest scraps of affection or approval. He even talks about how two typically pretty girls he hooked up with in the past used him for story fodder ("to tell their friends what sleeping with The Freak was like") but none have ever genuinely been interested in him; he doesn't have the luxury of being super picky, even if that was his characterization.
Eddie is shown to have serious issues with self-confidence, self-worth, believing that he's worthy of love, and generally struggling with how he wants to be perceived and in some ways accepted. I genuinely believe that as far as romance goes? Eddie doesn't have a set-in-stone type. He's willing to give anyone a chance if they seem genuinely interested in him and aren't on the Hawkins bandwagon, placing judgement on him because of his father.
His entire story revolves at its core around being loved and figuring out how best to love himself. After losing his beloved mother, and subsequently being left with a parent who, at best, always puts him second, and at worst, actively puts him in danger to achieve his own ends...you're telling me that this love-starved kid is picky enough that he's not gonna be seen with a girl over an imagined number, or, that he's going to go out of his way to plant those same seeds of self-loathing in someone else?
I'm sorry, that take REALLY just bothered me. Eddie is a sweet, charismatic, passionate weirdo who loves fiercely, and actively doesn't want others to know what it's like to feel unloved or publicly judged. This is why we love him. If you only like him for his appearance, cool, but maybe do a few seconds worth of insight to his character before penning these gross hcs about him.
Whoever penned that hc, I genuinely hope you get the help you need, because it's obvious that it comes from a place of deep insecurity and self-loathe. Have faith in the idea that Eddie would love you just for being your most genuine self.❤️
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OCs as Planets
I was tagged by @stephschoices and @dakotawritesif to do this uquiz for any OCs of my choice. The free online banner maker I used is here.
I tag anyone who wants to do it!
Now, one OC for every planet, in order of creation:
Valencia Talward is my MC for @shepherds-of-haven
Jupiter
optimistic. hopeful. generous and compassionate. you are the guardian angel. you are 4:44 am and a sense of being watched over. you enrich the lives of others just by existing and caring for them. you give as many blessings as you receive and there is always more to go around. be careful not to become too over-confident in these abilities. what makes you jupiter is your belief that ego has no part in caring and love. you are softness and the smell of almond coffee.
Dorothea Fairchild is my MC for Perfumare: Avulsion by @pdrrook
Uranus
innovative. unpredictable. resourceful. imaginative. creativity in science and disruption. oh, uranus. you were dealt the cards that don't have much to offer, but luckily you can always make them work. you are acrylic paint that has been plastered over the same canvas so many times that it is starting to have those little grooves of texture. you are ever-changing and suddenly it stops. and starts again. keep moving. nothing is wrong with not wanting to sit still.
Ella Wiseman is my MC for Mind Blind by @mindblindbard
Mercury
clever. intelligent and witty. wisdom, sharpness, anxiety and indecisiveness. you are the comedian. the "make someone laugh if they are crying" kind of lover. you don’t want to think too much about anything because that stops you from just having fun, but your brain doesn't ever shut off. you are curious and never ending. forecast and shadows. the smell of clean sheets.
Evie Amell is my MC for The Fernweh Saga by @lacunafiction
Earth
nurturing, generous and caring. introverted, tolerant, honest and trustworthy. you are "my phone is always on, call me any time." you are "i feel like i'm everyone's therapist." you are impressive with your stability and peacefulness. you are wallpapers of cows and fields of ever-growing seeds. you are the best friend. mother nature. ice cold water and the smell of rain.
Cynuise aka The Harbinger of Calamity is my MC for Fell Star by @justpked
Saturn
patient. stable. reliable. persevering and diligent. your capacity to hold focus on something you choose to is unmatched by all other planets. you were made for hard work that you love and that you know is rewarding. you are the shoulder that everyone wants to cry on, so remember you can lean on yourself when it seems there is no one else. there is nothing wrong with being self sufficient. you are justice and evenly balanced scales.
Asteria Violette Gaudare is my MC for Beyond the Spider Lilies by @justpked
Venus
passionate. romantic. loving to be loved. courtship. adoration and taste. you are your own personal aesthetic. you are hand written love letters in copper ink. you are "let me show you just how much i can love you." you are royalty and class. love has no bounds with you. your heart is wrapped in chocolate tin foil. you attract what you manifest so keep believing in love. it is you and you, it.
Evandra Vailia is my MC for @reapersbayif
Mars
passion. energy. drive. determination. you are in tune with yourself and your body and if you don't already feel it, please try to tune into it because it is so powerful. you are at war with yourself and life and it doesn't always have to be so hard. anger is not a useless emotion but do not let it control you. love is more powerful than hatred will ever be. you are the smell of fresh cut grass and the satisfaction of a job well done.
Fallon Rose is my MC for Underfell IF and Mafiafell IF by @darkpetal16
Neptune
mercy. kindness. sweet. forgiving and compassionate. you are second chances and sometimes third. you are "its ok because everyone makes mistakes." you are "i forgive you as long as you are learning." you are not held down by the demands of your ego. you believe in right and fair. open mindedness and friendship. you are mystical and magical, observant and the smell of warm bread in the morning.
#My OC#My OCs#Valencia Talward#Thea Fairchild#Ella Wiseman#Evie Amell#Cynuise#Asteria Violette Gaudare#Evandra Vailia#Fallon Rose#God I have so many OCs and I've barely talked about any of them and have tags for even less#The vast majority of the known lore is only in my own noggin so this took WAY longer than I thought it was going to lmao#And yes Fallon's name is a pun#And yes she does have a Kindness SOUL
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To begin my introduction to my work and characters. I must start with what I consider to be my main OCs. The protagonists of a story I've been writing for about a year and a half now in hopes of refining it enough to make it a webcomic series.
Yule (left) and Lucien (right)
Here's the summary I have so far of their story...
For as long as anyone could remember there was always a rift in society, not just in class, but in how some were born. There were a select type of people known as "Specials" who were born with abilities no one could explain.
With such unknown capabilities and raw power, the vast majority looked upon this minority with fear and disdain. Born out of that emerged the S.I.S (Specials Investigation Service). At the center of the city they created a safe haven for research, while creating borders divided by class under the guise of peace. The Upper City and Central cities prospered while the Lower City festered in resentment.
Lucien Reid was devoted to the S.I.S in his 3 years as an Agent. His job was simple: Follow leads, find Specials, and bring them back to the S.I.S so that they could be sorted into their refined academies for their own safety.
However, while on a simple mission, his worldview is shattered when a notorious wanted criminal interferes, revealing inconsistencies in his beliefs. Laying upon him an ever-growing seed of doubt that will eventually lead to him uncovering the dark secrets behind the "Beacon of Hope" at the center of the city.
Just how far can blind loyalty get a person who is dedicated to finding the truth?
#original character#original art#artists on tumblr#writers on tumblr#writerscommunity#oc#my writing#digital art#character design#character art
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'haven' (from the one word/short phrases prompts) for an oc of your choice?
so this one is the one that ended up being 2k+ words, so uh oops?
Morinel can faintly taste the salt-tang of the sea breeze even as the elegant grey spires of Mithlond appear on the horizon and she takes a shaky breath. Maybe it wasn’t such a good idea after all, to do this alone.
Maybe she should have waited for Saelinriel to finish her errand in Evendim, or for Remlas or Celebros – she would even gladly take Eglamír of all people – just so she was not alone.
But she pushes those thoughts aside and guides Súretal along the long paved road that leads to the city, a road that carries so many memories.
The Gondolindrim had built this road and placed each stone so closely that not a seed would grow between them. Trees still lined the road on each side, the ones Oropher and his Sindar for shelter from sudden storms. The first ones had been birches though they'd grown small and crooked in the salty sea-winds but later they had planted oaks that had grown tall and strong.
The oaks still growing here and along the edge of the hills might be the children of those first oaks– Morinel bites back bile when she remembers how long it has been since she has been in Lindon –or their great-grandchildren more likely.
They might still remember, if she stopped to ask them. Remember riding home into Mithlond, laughing with Gil-galad and Gildor and Elrond and Remlas in the teeth of a storm from the Sea? Remember Celebrimbor, so proud to show off his new sea-gate in Harlond...?
She wonders, distantly, if the sea-gate is still there but then remembers who built it, and forces herself to swallow the lump in her throat.
A gentle dusk settles over the hills as she approaches the Hall of Swallows.
Once, the many windows and balconies would twinkle with light -- light from candles or Fëanorian lamps alike -- but now all, save a pitiful handful, were dark.
She stops, then turns away from the main approach and seeks instead a familiar winding track through the grounds.
With luck, she finds it and it grows sandier and narrower as she follows it until finally the rough grass and patchy shrubs give way to the expanse of beach.
She dismounts just before she reaches the dunes, tethers Súretal to a shrub in reach of the grass, and discards her boots. The sand is still warm beneath her feet and the ocean rushes in her ears and she makes her way towards it.
The salty haze above the white foam and the swells fills her with freshness she hadn't felt in a long while. As she kneels and leans back against the sand, stars wink into being in the purpling sky and their sharpness pricks at her like needles. She closes her eyes and lays 'neath the starlight and the cooling damp of the early autumn evening, which is how Círdan finds her later.
She winces and sits up, shaking some of the sand from her dark hair before turning to where the shipwright sat next to her in the sand.
“I should have announced myself -- time quite got away from me.” The politeness, though automatic, feels forced, but Círdan doesn't seem to notice.
“I had word from Elrond that you were coming,” he says without looking away from the sea, which had progressed up the beach some way since she first arrived.
“And then word again that you had reached us earlier this evening.”
The waves rushed up the sand as if in acknowledgement before slowly shrinking away. She nods absently and silence falls between them before Círdan breaks it.
“I am glad you came,” he says.
The honesty is apparent, though she cannot tell if he was glad at the prospect of company in his lonely guardianship of the deserted city, glad of the link to his lost son, or glad for another reason entirely.
Círdan continues, “Your horse has been found a stable and taken care of. Why don’t you come inside and let me do the same for you?”
Morinel hesitates, but doesn't have the energy to resist as Círdan’s sun-worn hands take hers and help her to her feet.It is strange to be returning to the stone walls and tall towers of Mithlond when Gil-galad is gone, the bright king and dear friend that she'd served with all her heart.
Celebrimbor too, is gone, both of them fallen to the Enemy. There was a time, coming back home to Mithlond, when first she would have looked for Gil-galad, and then for Celebrimbor, but that was long ago now. Mithlond is empty, save for Círdan and his few faithful Falathrim.
His eyes are tired, and his beard is longer and greyer than before.
They do not speak as Círdan leads her wordlessly down the long streets that should be busy -- busy with Falathrim dressed in cheerful blue and green as they head to and from the boats, Sindar coming down from the hills with flocks of sheep or baskets full of fruit from the orchards and with Noldor with shining gems in their hair, their looms and smithies and potteries busy and bright and loud.
But now they're quiet and empty.
There are no lights at the windows, no song echoing from the towers or the doors, only the sighing of the distant Sea.
A few candles light the dining hall as they step inside. A handful of Elves sit at tables, belying the palace’s deserted appearance from the outside. The drapes are closed and mute the already quiet conversations and make the place feel secluded, shut off, like a sanctuary.
Or maybe a shroud…
“Would you care for some dinner?”
She comes back to herself, and she doesn’t know how long passed between her answer and Círdan’s question.
“Thank you but I've no appetite. ”Suddenly, this all is a bad idea, and not the first bad idea she's had either. And yet this is still something that she needs to do.
“Círdan, I-” She swallows again. “Forgive me. I am no company and your efforts as a host are bypassing me entirely. I am simply here to… I need to…” She stops, unable to find the words.
"Do what you need to.” Círdan’s eyes are warm with understanding as he places a hand on her shoulder. “Lindon is still your home, for as long as you wish it to be.”
Círdan – wise, old Círdan – presses an all-too-familiar key into her hand, and she bows her head in thanks.
Morinel finds that she's never really noticed the detailing on the rich wooden doors to her room before.
But now she stands examining the carved constellations that someone had once etched into the doors with obvious care.It takes her a long, long time to force her hand to the cool doorknob and unlock the door with the key Círdan has given her. The doors open with a slow creak from lack of use and she lets out a shaky breath.
Everything is as she’d left it – her hairbrush still lay on the dresser, her bed was hastily made, her red tunic was draped over the back of a chair, and her copy of The Coming into Eldamar lay on her desk, a thin silver ribbon marking her place – and Morinel nearly starts crying then and there.
Instead, she takes a moment to collect herself as she sits at the desk, and opens the first drawer on the right side. The letterbox is there, undisturbed and untouched.
With trembling hands, she pulls the medium sized box onto the table.The wooden lid is smooth with age but the collection of letters within are well preserved, though the ink is not so bold and the Tengwar is half-faded.Morinel takes an unsteady breath, and begins to read through them.
Some are lighthearted missives from Remlas or Celebrimbor or Indilwen, about their newest projects or observations or any subject beneath the sun.
Others are less so, speaking of the shadow in the east and the matter of loyalty and a thousand other things, and then the letters signed with the calma with three tick-marks, and the eight-pointed star stop.
Morinel forces herself to read onward, to the correspondence she had with Calatië of Numenor and a half-dozen others of the Faithful and with Galadriel of Lorien when it was clear that Thauron had not been vanquished forever and was waiting in the east.
The last paper in the box is not a letter at all, but a half-finished sketch of a lake beneath starlight, signed in the corner with a double anga on a single stem. She holds it gently before placing all the other letters back in the box.
Abruptly she rises and wanders over to the corner of the room, beside the tall windows, to the half-finished tapestry still hanging on the loom.
There is no confusion about what she had once been trying to make and all the threads and fibers she’d been using are sitting in the basket at the side of her stool.
She doesn’t know what possesses her to do so, but Morinel sits at the loom and gingerly picks up the thread, examining each spool for breakage, before continuing on from where she’d left off.
The time passes in a haze until, when she is almost finished, she notices that the grey and white have run out. Grumbling, she places the empty spools on her desk, before something in the basket catches her eye, shining in the moonlight.She rummages through the basket before finding what had glinted. Something burns at her eyes and Morinel cradles the spool with care.
It shines brighter than silver and it’s soft but strong and she can’t quite believe her eyes that it has been simply sitting in the basket for all of these years.
She is loath to use it (though this is more due to the memory tied to acquisition of the thread, she can almost hear Celebrimbor laughing when she holds it), but she wants to finish the tapestry so she rations it carefully, to use as little as possible and continues on.
When the moon is high in the sky, it is finally finished and her hands ache, and somehow she forgot to light a candle. Silver light filters through the clear glass and she studies the now-finished tapestry. It is Nen Cenedril shining in the moonlight over the mountains, the Valacirca glittering in the depths.
It is, by far, her best tapestry and Morinel gently traces her fingers over the curves of the mountains’ peaks and the stars made of Mithril that glimmer in the water and the sky.She rises from her seat, puts her materials away and sets the letter box carefully back in her desk, and tucks the mithril thread into her pack.
Then she sleeps.
Morinel wakes early and takes one last look around the room. She’ll leave the letters and the book here, if fortune is on her side, she will be back ere long. If it is not, then letters will be the least of her worries..
She writes a quick farewell note to Cirdan and places it on the dining table when she leaves Mithlond just before dawn, when the stars are beginning to fade as the sky slowly lightens to grey, with a spool of mithril thread tucked into her pack.
The gentle rush of the sea comes to her ears, as if it is bidding her a soft farewell and she draws Súretal to a not quite stop. There is a faint trill mixed with the sighing of the sea.
It is not the liquid warble of a skylark nor the shriek of a seagull, but something else – a distinct fall of notes, familiar and alien all at once.
She purses her lips, ignoring the twisting feeling in her chest, and urges Súretal onward.
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based on this post because I’ve been obsessed with it until I drew it
#john seed#uri haven#far cry oc#far cry 5#*more accurately twenty times a day#they just wanna beat the shit out of each other so bad
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kid meme: kit and jacob <3
If they had a kid meme:
Kit and Jacob do end up having a daughter during the bunker years, I've been having to sit on this little lady for a while
Name: Haven Seed
Gender: Female
General Appearance: Blue eyes, dark brown (almost black) hair, looked strikingly like John when she was little
Personality: quiet, introverted, gentle
Special Talents: Can hear "The Voice" like Joseph. It usually tells her things from the past that she should have no knowledge of.
Who they like better: Jacob (that man is a total girl dad and you cannot tell me any different)
Who they take after more: Physically she has those Seed genes for sure
Personal headcanon: Haven has more than once during breakfast looked up from her oatmeal to tell her parents one of the horrible things they've done in their past, with no prior knowledge of it, only to return to her meal like nothing happened.
Faceclaim: Kaya Scodelario
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OC Stats -- tagged by @dep-yo-tee, ty!!
Face claim: Originally was based off of Hugh Dancy as insp, but took on his own form so no exact claim for him currently
Name: Uri Haven
Age: 32
Height: 5′3″
Species: Human
Gender: Trans man
Birthday: September 3rd
Sexuality: Gay as shit
Marital Status: Single
Alignment: Chaotic good or lawful evil...... depends :)
Body Type: Stocky upper body and toned arms
Eye Color: Dark brown
Hair Color: Dark brown
Zodiac Sign: Virgo
Pet: Belgian shepherd named Louie, Lou for short
Residence: Tents it outside / sleeps in truck / couch surfs
Day or Night: Likes both, but usually still sleeps into the afternoon anyway
Food: Whatever he manages to hunt down for the day or the day before, otherwise microwave meals are his go to when he’s being lazy
Drink: Soda or beer
Snacks: Hot chips and jerky--he makes his own jerky!
Color: Red and yellow
Flower: Yellow lily
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World of Perfection | Your Bias
(some) smut, experimental?
600 words
A/N:
Pull up your bias, your favorite, your ideal. Find that one pic that gets you going, read this alongside it. Enjoy.
Hair that gracefully falls on her shoulders after hours upon hours of styling. It frames her beautiful, natural features, which alone deem her worthy of the term “idol”. These are further heightened with makeup, a meticulous process that must be maintained after every move, every gesture, every motion. A dance step here and a minute of downtime there, upkeep the modest yet enhancing composition. The face has little effect without her eyes — the striking stare eats away at your desire, be that what it may. Perhaps you wish for a friendship, maybe you long for a lover, her gaze conveys that your yearning will be met by her and only her. Much like the contact lenses that continually change for every shoot and performance, the flexible persona adjusts to you.
While flexible, she is not malleable. Within her, a constancy, a persistent set of characteristics that shape and carry the image. Quirky and endearing habits inspire feelings of cute, youthful attraction. Polite and attentive mannerisms produce an atmosphere of respect and maturity that carry throughout every conversation. Appealing (and somewhat seductive) wardrobes give a peek of the alluring, enviable figure, all while remaining prudent and sensible.
Prudency, sensibility, the caution and calculation, they have one thing in common: these are not for you. That is her world of perfection, the bubble wrap façade which must ratify each public appearance. The set of laws that direct and perfect her role within the ever-evolving theatrics.
This is not for you.
You are the escape. Your space is haven. No prying eyes will be laid on her when you’re together, no mind creative enough to imagine the actions and reactions of the scenes that play.
The graceful hair becomes a mess, a frizz, moist strands framing her still gorgeous and ravishing face. Makeup a mess, some removed, some displaced. While altered, it nevertheless enhances the euphoric visual experience. Before, it was maintained after each action; now, action defines the appearance. Grasps, chokes, tears, and slaps all play a part in the disheveled display. All this, once again, meaningless without her gaze. This time, however, a plea in her eyes. The request is unique to you, she may beseech or command. The flexibility is similar, yet undertones of perverted motive pervade the encounter.
“Fuck me.”
The wardrobe strips and gives way to otherwise unexplored regions of her body. Your mouth travels downward, neck, collarbone, chest, the taste of her fueling your already erect length. The cuteness manifests once more, now as coy moans for every thrust of your cock into her. Her legs are spread, up in the air, arousal dripping and gushing with each pump as you strive for climax. Scrunched eyebrows indicate she does the same, fingers roaming around her body as she pleasures herself. Then, a mature confidence reemerges, but not for conversation nor interview. She rides you, hips sway with erotic flair. The start is soft, elegant-like, quivers dominating her body due to her sensitive, post-orgasm pussy. You stare in awe as she works her toned figure: up, down. Sometime after, it’s you thrusting once more. She holds for dear life; hands crumple white sheets and moans erupt as you, finally, release with gratifying groans. Cum slathers on her walls, warmth surrounding your softening and overstimulated cock.
You pull out and admire her. Heavy breaths and a flushed chest, an attractively deviant smile that is accompanied by one final heave. She lays there, tangled in linen and overflowing with your seed. One final look and kiss close the bout as you drowse and drift into satisfied slumber.
This is your world of perfection.
.
A/N #2:
Some explanation, I suppose. The general idea behind this is enclosed within the first two paragraphs. True to my name, these are passing notions and fleeting thoughts, specifically on the kpop industry. It was late and I got to writing, big words floated around my head that strung to sentences. The concept of perfection is intriguing to me, and as this formed, I truly had no specific idol to attribute it to. That gave me the idea: the reader can fill the blank. Turned it to smut, clearly, because the concept of idols being perfect for the public and sluts for [reader; y/n; oc] is tried and true. Smut, a bubble, our world of fictitious ideal. I’m sure (I hope) you can see the parallels I drew.
This is unedited, so if I missed the mark due to word choice, formatting, or some other shit... eh. Attempted to be as vague as possible so it could be your idol of choice.
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Little Black Book: The One You Hate (M)
Summary: There are a few names in your Little Black Book, and these seven hold a special place in your heart. Now that you are closing that chapter in your life, you reminisce the time and experience you have had with your seven favourite men, especially with Kim Seokjin, the one you hate.
Pairing: Seokjin x female reader
Rating: Explicit. NO MINORS ALLOWED.
Genre: nonidol!au, strangers to lovers, friends with benefit
WC: 3.9k
Warning: swearing, car blowjob, ass slapping, OC loves going down on Seokjin, sex against a window, sex between coworkers, love-hate relationship between OC and Seokjin (more on OC). I guess that’s about it….
A/N: Many, many, many thanks to @rainbhrts94 for beta-ing this piece. I was experiencing a burnout and having a hard time putting all my thoughts together, and her reviews and suggestions totally helped getting this fic into its final form. Thank you!!
Also, I’m a total dodo when it comes to Tumblr so with some help from @aroseforyoongi and @moccahobi, I’m reposting this with hope that the link works this time round!
Series Masterlist: Little Black Book
Kim Seokjin was the bane of your existence.
The cocky, arrogant IP attorney from the New York office had everyone on your floor in an uproar for weeks. You had seen him making one of the conference rooms his home away from home, with a hoard of lawyers and secretaries going in and out at his beckoning. You were watching them with jealousy. Sure, you were a mere junior in the firm and therefore the lowest in the food chain (just slightly above the interns), but you really wanted to be part of the action.
Then, somehow, during his last few days in Seoul, you were picked to help him and his team. Your excitement soon turned sour, as you were constantly on coffee and photocopy duties. How could you prove your worth when you were too busy being worked as Kim Seokjin’s personal server? Why couldn’t he ask one of his groupies? There were plenty of secretaries and PAs throwing themselves at him; you bet one of them would be happy to do this… THIS menial job. It was truly beneath your job description, and you started to simply, truly hate the man.
If that was really the case though, how did you end up in his luxury rental car, bending over towards the driver seat, sucking his cock? How did your mouth end up around his shaft, while your saliva dripped down and coated your fingers around his base? Why were your panties getting wetter with every moan and groan that left his lips? Why did you wish he would just spank your ass instead of tugging your hair? Why, when he came, did you gobble up his seed so greedily and lick him clean? Why did you even feel the need to stick your tongue out to him to show him you had swallowed every single drop?
Seokjin exhaled sharply then looked over at you as he tucked himself back in. “You do this with every visiting attorney?” He leered at you.
You rolled your eyes. “Just the one that pisses me off.”
He chuckled. “I should piss you off more then.”
“Are you going to drive me home or what?”
Seokjin started his car. The engine purred, and you pressed your thighs closer together at the soft vibrations that went through the car. “I promised I’d buy you dinner first, didn’t I?”
You flashed him a saccharine smile. “I had a meal already, thanks.”
Seokjin sniggered as he pulled out of the parking lot. He had offered to drive you home - “the least I can do after all your hard work this week” he had said- and while your little apartment was at the other end of the city from the five-star hotel he was staying, it was indeed the least he could do for you. So when you had settled in his car and buckled your seatbelt, after he had asked if he could buy you dinner, you- in your frustration, because you hated him and you just wanted to go home (god, was that too much to ask)- muttered under your breath on how you would rather suck his dick than have dinner with him.
You had been taken aback when he broke into a brazen smile, challenging you to eat your own words, and damned if you were going to back down. Deep down, you had wanted to see if this perfect man with the perfect face and the perfect suits tailored around his perfect body (he had legs that went for miles, you hated to admit), also had the perfect dick.
It turned out that he did, and his perfect dick was perfectly hard when you unzipped him. And so, that was how you went down on Kim Seokjin, giving him a near perfect blowjob, in his car, in the basement parking lot of your firm. (Near perfect because honestly, you could have done a lot more had you had more ample space to move.)
You stole a glance at Seokjin as he drove. His side profile was sharp and too good to be true. Flashes of lights only further highlighted his jaw and cheekbones. You looked away, pouting.
“I’m flying back tomorrow evening.” He broke the silence. “You gonna miss me?”
You scoffed. “You wish. I’ll finally be able to do real work rather than making you coffee.”
He had the gall to laugh. “I’ll be back in two months. Don’t worry.”
The rest of the drive was quiet. How did you get into this? How could you possibly be so horny for him? Was it your dislike for him that made you like this? You should have known better than blowing him in his car just now. What if he started shooting his mouth off in the office? Or worse, in your personal promised land, THE New York office?
“Seokjin,” you started, “about what happened just now, I’d appreciate it if you keep it to yourself.”
“Of course, I’m not Yuna.”
You tilted your head at the name. Yuna was one of the senior partners’ secretary. “What do you mean?”
He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t know? She’s been telling everyone how good I was in bed.”
“You slept with her?” You couldn’t mask your surprise. “I didn’t hear anything about it. I must’ve been so out of loop with the rumor mills. Wait… Is that why you’ve been asking me to do all that shit? So you don’t have to deal with her?”
“Smart girl.” Seokjin made a turn, stopping just outside your apartment complex. He turned off the engine.
“And here I thought you liked my coffee. And how I photocopied your endless documents.” You said dryly. “Thanks for the ride.”
Seokjin stopped you before you exited his car. “Aren’t you going to invite me to your place?”
You chortled. “Why, you need a goodbye fuck?” You spat it out, but internally, you hoped your playing hard to get was not going to backfire.
“Hmm,” Seokjin looked out of the car, eyeing your apartment building. “What kind of bedsheets do you have?”
“What do my bedsheets have to do with anything?”
“500 thread count? Or pure linen?”
You opened the car door and got out. “Bye Seokjin.”
He got out too, walking you to the main entrance. “I’ll buy you some. For next time I’m here. Two months from now.”
You scanned your access card, but he stopped you from opening the door.
“Not gonna kiss me goodnight, sweetheart?”
You turned to him and leaned forward. But instead of kissing him, you stuck your tongue out and licked him, along his jaw, all the way to his ear. You did not miss the shiver that ran through his body when you closed your lips around his earlobe. Smiling smugly, you opened the door, and as you were about to walk into your safe haven triumphantly, Seokjin slapped your ass. You stilled yourself, not giving him the satisfaction of seeing your reaction.
“See you in two months, sweetheart.” You heard him chuckle as the door closed behind you.
Kim Seokjin was truly the bane of your existence.
~~~
He returned to Seoul in two months. You were not keeping track on your calendar, no of course not. You just knew because the commotion was back, as it always was when he stepped into the office. He picked you again to assist his team (Yuna gave you an evil eye for that), and at the end of the work day, when you were filing papers and folders, he slipped a small envelope into your hand.
“Open it at your desk.” He said in a low whisper.
You looked at the envelope quizzically before putting it into your pocket. “Is it your credit card? To buy pure linen bed sheets?” You whispered back.
“Sweetheart, I already bought you a few sets from New York.”
You snorted. Later, when you were back at your desk, you took the envelope out and opened it. You found a note with a gold monogram of Seokjin’s initials at the top. You laughed at the ridiculousness of it. Under his insignia, was a series of digits you assumed to be his mobile number. You saved it in your phone.
There was something else in the envelope, however. A piece of key card, with the logo of the five-star hotel on one side, and handwritten 4-digit number on the other. Your eyes widened. Was this an invitation to his hotel room?
You peered out of your cubicle like a meerkat, trying to find where Seokjin was. Then you remembered foolishly you had his number. So you immediately texted him.
– You [18:40] : Seokjin, WTF???
– You [18:40] : also, nice stationery
– You [18:40] : it’s me btw
– Seokjin [18:41] : hurry the fuck up. I’ve been waiting for you in my car
You smiled. The time had finally come, you were going to fuck Kim Seokjin.
~~~
You had to admit, high quality bed sheets felt amazing. It hugged your naked body like soft clouds as Seokjin pounded into you relentlessly. His thrusts had caused your body to move, inch by inch, from one end of the bed to the other. You were not complaining though; the way he rammed himself into you made your breasts bounce back and forth like a pendulum on a string, the feeling was so delicious.
You gripped the edge of the bed as you watched him over you. His usually perfect hair was messy now, his perfect face was void of the usual laser focus expression you normally saw at work and of the arrogant smirk he liked to give you. His broad shoulders and lean torso filled your vision- you had had fun stroking your hands over his pecs, abdomens and biceps. God, you hated how perfectly hot he was.
You whined pathetically when he plunged his cock and pushed it as deep as he could into you. Seokjin dropped to his elbows, and you welcomed the new weight on top of your body. He stilled, letting his hardness rest inside you. You wrapped your legs around him and could not help but clench around his cock. He groaned against your chest at the sensations.
“Do that again, sweetheart,” he nibbled and licked your collarbone, “squeeze my cock again.”
You did as he asked, tightening your walls around him before loosening again, repeating the movements and creating your own erotic Kegel exercise around his cock. You could feel Seokjin’s breath faltering on your neck, and before long, you were careening towards your peak.
“Seokjin,” you gasped, “close.”
He remained still, even at your warning. Choosing to work his lips on your neck and up to your ear instead. Finding a spot behind your ear, he licked and nipped at it, sending shudders all over your body and suddenly pushing you to your release. Seokjin held you down as your body shook, willing himself not to come, but the way your pussy walls massaged his cock, it did him in.
You and Seokjin held each other tight as you both came. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, his hips pressed harder against yours as he shot his seeds inside you. Finally groans and moans gave way to heavy breathing, and as your heart rate slowed down, sanity returned.
You opened your eyes. “God, don’t do that EVER again.” You slapped his shoulder. “I’m super ticklish there.”
Seokjin hummed, and nipped at the spot again. You yelped, but in the process you also squeezed his flaccid cock, still sheathed fully in you. “Now I know what to do when you talk too much.” He mumbled.
You tried to wriggle away from his mouth, but the more he teased your spot, the more you moaned, and the more your body became heated again. You were all ready for round two, but your stomach betrayed you, for it growled shamelessly. Seokjin’s eyes widened at the sound, and the two of you burst out laughing.
“OK, I’d better feed you before I fuck you against the window.” He pulled out of you, holding on to the spent condom on his dick. Walking to the bathroom, he gestured to the phone on the bedside table. “Whatever you order, order the same for me.”
And that was how you spent your first night with Kim Seokjin. Fucked out of your brains and eating room service food in his luxurious hotel room.
~~~
You gave Seokjin your Saturday nights whenever he was in town, which was only about three to four times a year.. You hated to admit it, but you enjoyed your time with him. It was obvious he liked your company too, and your arrangement worked out well. You both wanted sex with no strings attached. You enjoyed arguing with each other, although it felt like Seokjin lived solely to rile you up to get a reaction out of you. He said he was training you to hold your poker face better; after all, didn’t you want to be a successful attorney like him?
And that was the situation you found yourself in that evening. Seokjin kept prodding at you until your temper snapped, and you roughly pushed him to the chaise in his room. You quickly worked on his jeans and his boxers, pulling them down to his ankles, only to find his cock already hard and weeping with precum.
You cocked an eyebrow at him. “Making me angry turns you on so much, huh?” You wrapped your fingers around his shaft, lazily stroking it a few times before squeezing it gently at the base. Seokjin hissed, but his annoying smirk never went away.
“You can’t shut up your opponents by going down on every one of them,” he teased, his hand reached out to touch your hair but you swatted it away with your free hand, “no matter how sexy you are when you’re angry.”
You scowled as your hand continued stroking him. Keeping your eyes on his, you closed your lips around the head of his cock, your tongue lapping up his precum. Seokjin sucked in a breath.
“So what should I do then?” You asked before licking up and down his length. Seokjin threw his head back, enjoying the wetness of your tongue on his hot member.
“Hmmm… “Seokjin moaned. “Learn to control your temper better, sweetheart. You know how our kind is…”
Seokjin took a deep breath. Your tongue was still busy on his cock. It drove you nuts how addicted you were to the taste of him. “… especially to female attorneys..” Seokjin continued.
“Excuse me?!” you sat up straight, but your hand was still around his member, unconsciously squeezing it a little harder than normal.
“Ouch!” Seokjin yelped. “What are you trying to do? Pull my dick off?”
You sniggered, your grip loosened slightly as you continued to stroke him. “Tell me,” he asked, “how did your last case go? You almost lost because the opposing attorney kept throwing jabs at your gender, am I right?”
Your cheeks reddened. “How did you know about that?” you pouted.
“I get regular updates on you, sweetheart, I like to know how my protege is doing.”
You eyed him skeptically. “Wow, I’m so honored.” Your tone was flat, but your hand started pumping his cock faster. You thought back to the moment you nearly lost your temper in court, and you buried the memory deep. You leaned in and started to take Seokjin’s length into your mouth when it suddenly dawned on you.
“Wait,” Seokjin’s cock popped out of your mouth. “Is that why I didn’t get the promotion? I won that case but I didn’t get my promotion because I was too emotional?”
Seokjin groaned, in desire and in frustration. He looked down at you, kneeled between his legs, eyebrows scrunched up, eyes angry, mouth in a pout, and his hardness in the mercy of your hand. He ran a hair through his hair.
“Now that you recognise the problem, will you solve it?”
You nodded.
“So can we please continue?” He asked.
You nodded again before your mouth returned to his cock. You enveloped your lips around the head, sucking it gently and licking it until you heard him moan. You started taking more of him into your mouth, the muskiness of his scent filling your nose. His hands found your head and held it gently, his fingers carding your hair.
You continued to lubricate him with your saliva, relaxing your mouth and your throat to take all of him in. You steadied your breathing as you sucked in your cheeks, and you slowly pulled out all the way to the tip, before filling your mouth again. “That’s good sweetheart, you know just how I like it.”
You stupidly beamed at his praise, and it encouraged you to pick up your pace, sucking him faster and harder. His breathing was getting heavier, and you massaged his balls, eager for him to cum in your mouth. “No, no,” he pulled your head, and you came up gasping for breath. “I want to be in you now.”
You and Seokjin undressed immediately, and Seokjin went to the bathroom to retrieve a condom. He rolled the rubber as you positioned yourself by the window. The window felt cold on your back, but your core was wet and hot. Seokjin lifted you up effortlessly, and your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, and your arms around his neck.
Seokjin spat into his hand and rubbed his saliva over your cunt. Then the blunt head of his cock was at your entry, and he pushed it in, inch by inch until he was fully inside you. Adjusting his grip, ensuring he got you secured between him and the window, he started to move. Slowly at first, and once your juices were flowing and leaking, he went faster.
You felt sweat developing on your back, making your body slippery against the glass. You dug your fingers into Seokjin’s shoulders, anchoring yourself up as he continued to pound into you. You turned your head to the side, catching the city skyline in the corner of your eye.
“God, Seokjin,” you whined wantonly, “When I get that New York position, will you fuck me like this with the New York skyline in the background?”
Seokjin huffed, his hips not missing a beat. “Sweetheart, you’ll never get the New York position.”
You snapped your head back to look at Seokjin, he was still thrusting mercilessly into you. You pulled his hair. “What do you mean I will NEVER get the New York position?”
Seokjin’s smirk was back. He pulled out slowly then he rammed himself back into you hard, making you mewl. “It means…”
He took his time thrusting into you again.
“… you will…”
Another slow and hard thrust.
“… never get…”
He was hitting the sweet spot inside you.
“… the New York position.”
You cried out at his last thrust. “Because I’m too emotional?” you asked breathlessly.
“Because… “ his mouth was inching closer to the sensitive spot on your ear, “we’re closing that office.”
You gasped, at the news and at Seokjin’s sudden change of pace. He was fucking you fast again, pressing your body harder against the window.
“Wait.. ah, Seokjin… “ you said between pants, “does that mean…”
You could not finish your question because Seokin began nibbling and sucking your ear, sending your body rigid as the pressure on your cunt was waiting to explode.
“Yeah,” Seokjin panted. “I’ll be back in Seoul for good, sweetheart.”
You threw your head back against the window as Seokjin continued pistoning into you, pushing you towards and over your climax. You wailed in pleasure as the heat enveloped you. He did not let up at the slightest, his hips kept thrusting into you ruthlessly even as you began to sob from the oversensitivity.
Seokjin wrapped his arms around you tightly to move you, and you both collapsed on the bed, his cock still secure in you. He rolled to his back, bringing you on top of him. He slapped your ass. “Can you ride me?”
You pushed yourself up with your arms, your hair curtaining Seokjin’s face. You started to move your hips back and forth as you tried to get your breathing back. The sensitivity in your sex slowly turned into pleasure once again, and you quickened your pace. Seokjin moved his hands to your breasts, squeezing the flesh and flicking the nipples as they swung before him.
“Does… does this mean you’re gonna be my boss?” You asked between moans.
“Do you want me to be your boss?” Seokjin tugged your nipples, causing your back to arch.
“You’ll scold me everyday.”
“And I’ll fuck you every Saturday.” He thrusted up to meet your hips. “You like that?”
“Fuck no…” you felt the heat returning back to your core. “I’ll just hate you even more.”
Seokjin slapped your ass. “Just admit it, sweetheart, I’m your favorite among all your other fuck toys.”
You stammered as Seokjin thrusted up again, and he took the opportunity to pull you down onto his chest. Planting his heels on the bed, he held you down as he started thrusting his hips to plunge his cock into you, fast and hard. You closed your eyes tightly and felt tears slipping down your cheeks as you came closer to your climax.
“Come on sweetheart,” Seokjin whispered in your ears, “give me one more. Milk my cock.”
You cried out as your body jolted and shook. Seokjin kept holding you down, chasing his own release too. His thrusting became more messy, and he finally came too, swearing and groaning loudly.
You stayed still on top of Seokjin, your heart beating out of your chest, and so was his. You both lay on the bed, bodies sticky with sweat, waiting for the haze of your orgasms to pass.
“If you become my boss,” you whispered, “I want no special treatment.”
“Of course not, sweetheart. The only special treatment you get is I feed you after sex.”
You chuckled. “Speaking of…”
Seokjin rolled you over and pulled himself out. “Yeah yeah, order whatever you want.”
~~~
Today
Seokjin walks into your room. You barely glance up, used to him barging in whenever he likes.
“So, Yuna told me there’s a tall drink of water waiting for you in the lobby.” He plopped down on the little settee in your office. “So naturally I went to see. And you’d better get there before Yuna devours him.”
You glance at your watch. It’s ten minutes to 7pm. You smile softly, leave it to your boyfriend to arrive early. “He’s my boyfriend. I told you about him.”
Seokjin ahs. “So, that’s the man who took away my Saturday night fun.”
You glare at him as you tidy up your desk. “Yeah well, he feeds me AND reads me poetry after sex. So, sorry.”
Seokjin stands up as you ready yourself to leave.
“Besides, now we play Maple Story every Saturday, surely that’s more fun?” You tease him. He chuckles and rubs his chin. He accompanies you walking down the hallway towards the lobby.
Before you arrive at the glass door separating the inner office from the reception area, you turn to Seokjin and ask, “Do you want to meet him?”
Seokjin thinks for a moment. “Does he know about our history?”
“He knows MY history, but I never share any names with him.” you explain. “He only knows you as my asshole boss.”
“Now I am offended. I thought I was a nice boss!”
“Well, I rant about you too much maybe. But he doesn’t mind, because you know what happens when I get riled up.” You wink.
Seokjin laughs. “What a lucky bastard. OK, come on, introduce your asshole boss to your boyfriend.”
Published 01022021
#thebtswritersclub#noonasinnetwork#thetruthuntoldnet#purplearmynet#bts smut#seokjin smut#seokjin x you#seokjin x reader#seokjin x oc#littleblackbook
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My Headcanons For Dark Elves in Tolkien
I’ll try to cover some of my general headcanons and ideas in this post. I’ll make a separate post going specifically into my OCs (Morwen’s) life and family history. Some of it will be touched on here though because it’s relevant to her story and the down fall of her people. Also, any elf groups that aren’t dark elves will just be referred to as “light elves”.
If you guys have any questions, or want me to elaborate on something, please ask! I am very passionate about this!!
Appearance
Dark elves (also known as night elves) have a slightly different appearance than their elven kin. For starters, their ears are longer/larger. Living primarily in the dark, this helps them stay aware of their surroundings by providing better hearing.
During the day, their vision is not as great as the other elves. Bright light can be incredibly disorienting to them. Their sight could still be considered better than a humans, but much poorer than let’s say a “light elf”. Since they live primarily at night, their sight works much better in the dark (superior to humans and most other elves). Night elves tend to have brown/green/hazel eyes. The few humans that have ever seen them have said that they give an unsettling glow when the light hits them (Much like a nocturnal animal).
Hair colours for night elves range from medium brown to so black that it looks blue. Hey, they aren’t called dark elves just because they live at night 🤷🏻♂️
Culture
•Dwellings: In Middle Earth, the dark elves came to dwell in what would become Fangorn forest. There, they would build a city called Gladuial, located in the southern half of the forest. The city was built of marble and quartz and emits a soft glow in the night, much like the moon. As for architecture style, they don’t live in the trees like the elves of Lothlorien do. To compare it to something already established, it’s more like the Grey Havens.
•Fashion: Fashion for Dark elves is generally similar to that of their elven kin, with some slight changes. Being more of a warrior people, their hair is shorter than that of light elves. The few that do have longer hair almost always have it up.
With clothes, they prefer the same rich fabrics and elegant designs as the other elves. The most popular colours amongst the court are blues, purples, and the occasional reds, all in darker shades. Black of course goes with everything and is also popular. Darker colours help them stay hidden from those they don’t wish to encounter (like humans and dwarves). They’re also great for going unnoticed when sneaking up on your enemies.
Elves love the stars, but none more so than the Night Elves. They craft jewels that glimmer and shine like stars. Silver is the most popular metal for necklaces and bracelets. The Queens/Kings crown always features a moonstone as its centerpiece (both for its beauty and spiritual qualities)
•Government: As mentioned above, the Dark Elves are ruled by a monarch. The Queen during Morwens time is her mother, Faelwen. I could make an entire post on Faelwen and how she completely changed everything for the dark elves, but in her ~350 year reign she began to make peace with humans and even married a man of Gondor (Morwens dad and the man who named her, hence the name Morwen). This would cause a huge rift between the dark elves, and planted the seeds of treason in Thalion, Faelwens younger brother and Morwens uncle.
As for a crown, the picture below is the closest to what I could find for what Queen Faelwen wore. After her death during the Siege of Gladuial, Morwen would be coronated and come to wear her mother’s circlet as well (though not immediately, as the pain from the loss lingered and she couldn’t stand the sight of it at first).
•Beliefs: My interpretation of the dark elves is influenced by “dark” faeries from Celtic mythology. Like dark faeries, the dark elves dislike humans as they see them as being destructive and uncaring towards nature. Dark elves wouldn’t go out of their way to harm humans, but they definitely wouldn’t go out of their way to help or teach them either. The bad blood between these two lasts for centuries and their relationship only begins to mend when the two must fight alongside each other during the War of the Ring. Faelwen comes into power shortly after the war ends, and she makes an effort to make peace with the other peoples of middle earth. This causes a major divide between the people as some support their queen and others don’t. These tensions would brew for over 300 years before leading to a civil war.
Speaking of the War of the Ring, gaining the support of the dark elves was vital in winning the war. All of the elves are skilled warriors, but this field is a specialty for the night elves. From their weapons training, knowledge of battle tactics, and general talent for the art of war, they make a formidable enemy. With their support and training, the victory from the Last Alliance was made possible.
Besides the Wood elves of Mirkwood, the night elves are very deeply connected to nature. The way it loops and forever continues was something they found fascinating. In Fangorn, they would teach the trees to speak and helped to herd and tame the forest. Once they were gone, the forest became wild and their spirits are said to still haunt it at the end of the Third Age.
I didn’t cover everything, but please comment what you guys would like to know more about! Thank you :)
Tags: @themerriweathermage @iwenttomordor @elarinya-nailo @entishramblings
#lord of the rings#the hobbit#the silmarillion#Silmarillion#tolkien#tolkien elves#elves#headcanon#dark elves#night elves
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➳ pairing: jaebeom x oc
➳ genre/warnings: soulmate!au, set in the olden days (dare i say historical!au), fluff
➳ word count: 1,075 words
➳ inspo: “I remember every single thing about you. I would change my everything if I could make you stay.” - @got7creators 7for7project week, physics of love poem, the truth untold by bts
➳ author's note: i am one day late!! took inspo from the prompt and turned it into this ;__; i know this chapter is not much, but it’s just to set the scene and i do have plans of turning this into a mini series!!! first time trying soulmate!au + i love this prompt so :)) hope you enjoy!! (even if its a lil short)
hidden // masked // exposed
Lim Jaebeom never let anything, or anyone, for that matter, disrupt his beauty sleep. Always eight hours, no more and no less. If he didn’t get a full eight hours, his entire system would get thrown out of whack and a sour mood would linger over his head for the remainder of the week.
He already had a late night, what with the newest modification in the garden keeping him up late and all. It was a wooden trellis that he made out of a fallen cedar tree, carved and sanded to near perfection with his own bare hands. The soreness of his muscles made it even more difficult to fall into a deep, peaceful slumber. Plus, the frigid air at the top of the tower where he slept did little to soothe his aching joints. If anything, the chilly surroundings made his body feel worn beyond his years. As he got older, he learnt that sleep was a precious, fleeting commodity.
Which was why he did not appreciate the ear-shattering scream that pierced his eardrums in the wee hours of what was to be a quiet Sunday morning. It sounded as though someone had snuck past the four sturdy deadlocks to his tower, climbed up the flight of spiral stairs and barged into his bedroom to scream in his face.
With a frustrated grumble, Jaebeom harshly threw the covers off and bounced out of bed, feet stomping on the creaking floorboards as he went to inspect the source of the ruckus from his window, thirty feet above ground.
He was met with an appalling sight. From the vantage point he watched in utter horror as his tirelessly crafted trellis shattered into a million pieces, lying scattered amongst the mess that was once his beloved vegetable garden. His precious baby cabbages, carrots and tomatoes were either covered in dirt or squashed by a human figure who planted head-first into the ground. It was a girl.
Jaebeom watched with an increasingly curious gaze as she peeled her face off the ground and pushed herself onto her feet, her back towards him. She was petite, not any taller than his shoulder, he guessed. Even from afar, he could see how her limbs were as thin as straws, her legs barely holding up her tiny frame. She bent forwards, brushed clumps of soil mixed with fresh fertiliser and bits of withered leaves off her beige linen dress before standing upright and turning around.
Jaebeom swore his heart nearly leapt out of his chest.
In a flash, the man dropped to the floor. Much like in a battlefield when the general yelled ‘fire in the hole!’ and ordered his men to take cover, Jaebeom covered his head with his hands and said a silent prayer. He wouldn’t, no, couldn’t, let the girl see him. Not like this. Especially not like this. He hadn’t washed, hadn’t brushed his wavy, shoulder-length hair, and he certainly hadn’t worn his mask to hide the horrendous scar on his left cheek from her glistening, hazel eyes.
“Hello?” Came a voice – the softest, sweetest voice Jaebeom had ever heard.
“Go away, go away, please just go away-” He muttered to himself, wishing and willing the girl to get away from here, away from him. Nothing good would fall upon her shoulders if she were to interact with him in any way, shape or form.
“I… I’m sorry, kind sir!” A pause. Jaebeom imagined her pondering over her next words. He wondered whether she would chew her lips in nervousness. “I’ll pay you back! Here… I’ll…” Another pause. He didn’t want her money, he just wanted her to leave him in peace so that he could go about his usual Sunday routine and clean up the mess she made. “There’s five shillings in the sack of seeds by the shovel. Please accept my most sincere apologies!”
For the next two minutes, the man waited with clammy palms and a sweaty forehead. Only when he thought the coast was clear did he dare to peek out the window once more.
A twang of emotion (Was it disappointment? Emptiness? Or sadness?) shot through his chest. Inexplicably, his eyes followed the girl’s figure as she walked through the meadows, towards the town centre and away from him and his tower, his safe haven. Her servants’ dress was plain, the basket she held in her hand was common, and yet to Jaebeom, she stood out like the most eye-catching flower amongst the luscious greenery and the speckles of vibrant yellows and pinks. Like a main character of a play, she swayed and glided through the early spring blooms, becoming one with nature and completing the picture-perfect scenery.
There was an unmistakable pull towards this girl that Jaebeom could not articulate into words. He had only caught a glimpse of her face earlier before he hid himself, an action he now regretted as he longed and yearned to see her again. Something made him lean out of the window, his fingers itching to stretch towards her retreating figure.
That morning, he stayed by the window until late noon and the sun was high up in the sky, hoping, wishing, willing for her to return, the very opposite of his prayers earlier today. But that was before he was sure.
Now, as he sat by his desk in the candlelight, twirling a quill in his fingers while chewing on an apple, he knew.
He wrote:
“Mass is not proportional to volume
A girl as small as a violet
A girl who moves like a flower petal
is pulling me towards her with more force than her mass.
Just then, I am
Like Newtons Apple
I rolled towards her without stopping
Until I fell on her
With a thump, with a thump
My heart
Keeps bouncing between the sky and the ground
It was my first love.”
When he was younger, his fondest memories were of sitting with his grandma, helping her rub salt and chilli flakes onto napa cabbages while listening to her stories. She had many, but Jaebeom’s all-time favourite was a story of two lovers.
Two lovers separated by time and connected by a red string of fate – soulmates.
As his pinkie throbbed from the relentless tugging by an unseen red string towards the direction of the town, he could only sigh.
The girl who stumbled upon his vegetable garden and tripped over his cabbages was his soulmate.
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