Earwen - Blog Posts
You’re art is so funny like it never fails to bring me joy every time I see your art!! 🥰❤️ Eärwen breaking three of Nerdanel’s sculptures is so funny to me 🤣 I bet her swans have something to with it, those things can be vicious!! D:< Lol I bet they got threatened by the sculptures lmao
AHHHHH thank you so much!! though i must say, it’s YOUR kind feedback has never failed to bring ME joy 🥺💓 i’m so happy you liked that whole subplot in the anaire sketches!! now thanks to your input, it’s become even more fleshed out?! gosh i love your image of swan queen earwen SO MUCH AHAHA
now im thinking that one of those statues was probably sculpted after feanor, so her swan army most likely had their sights set on it for utter destruction the moment they saw it 😂
did i forget that geese and swans are two different types of bird? yes! did i only realise that once i was halfway done with this pic? yes!! but it was way too fun drawing in this lineless style so i hope you can overlook that 😂😂
(left to right: wee galadriel, aegnor, angrod, finrod, fingolfin, finarfin, anaire, nerdanel, earwen)
DAY TWO of @silmsmutweek! "Coast" and "cross-cultural relationships" both suggested to me Finarfin/Earwen, so under the cut is another 400 words of one of their first sexual experiences together. Content note: contemplation of sexual morality in a world with gods who live next door and, uh, butt stuff.
“Those who live outside the Calacirya,” Arafinwe's mother had reminded him, “do not always honor the Valar in the same way we do, here in the fullness of Their light.” And in her frustrating, this is something you need to learn for yourself way, “You must be prepared to choose the ways that seem right to you.”
He understood better, when he saw his friends in Alqualonde slipping away into the shadows beyond the beach bonfires in pairs or triads or more, leading each other by the hand in every possible combination of genders behind boathouses and under piers, to elicit sounds from each other that the humid, starlit air did nothing to muffle.
And while his mother certainly must have an opinion of her own, he had been given leave to decide his own path.
He didn't say no when his best friend took his hand and led him to a small grotto well prepared with quilts and cushions. Nor when she began to kiss him, really kiss him, with lips and teeth and tongue. Nor when she stripped them both of the finely-woven cloth they had been draped in.
Then she asked if he wanted to see something fun, and showed him the suggestively carved rod of ivory and bottle of fragrant olive oil she'd brought along.
He didn't know why, exactly, he'd agreed to be the one to receive it. Misplaced gallantry perhaps? She'd told him she'd enjoy it either way. Or maybe he was too curious and too trusting for his own good. This time, she made him say yes with his actual mouth before she directed him onto his hands and knees.
She was merely petting him softly along the back and telling him how very good he was doing for her as she slowly, gently pressed her little toy deeper and deeper into his asshole. He was merely gripping the fabric beneath his hands, trying not to weep and failing not to moan at the intensity of the sensation.
They weren't touching each other anywhere they shouldn't, he told himself, though he'd grown achingly hard and she kept wriggling her hips needily. They hadn't even unbraided their hair. He could almost assert that they weren't getting up to anything improper at all.
But she was the princess of this land, after all. Surely she wouldn’t encourage her best friend into any behavior that might be considered sinful.
They just honored the Valar differently here, was all.
