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how it will be? you without me

tiktok

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I really love the dynamic between these two. It's like Dahlia knows all their secrets. True? True? ☝🏻🤓

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home is any four walls that enclose the right person 🤍

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Lúthien and Huan😌

I´m trying to get back to posting my art, so I´ll see how I feel about posting this, and then, depending on it, I´ll begin posting my other drawings I haven´t shared. Lúthine W/O Huan below

(Do not repost)

COMMISSIONS OPEN - Support me on Ko-Fi; early access drawings + WIP + COMM discounts

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THE WINDBLUME TEAM!! ✨🍃

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time will pass and you'll forget all that was

between you and me

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give elrond a break challenge failed

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every time I catch up on akatsuki no yona, without fail, every single time, I find out that my man hak has been doing insane shit again. it's good he has plot armour in the form of being too fucking stubborn to die.

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maglor 🌊

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Do Not Swear by the Moon

For @bayta-darell, who mentioend in the tags of @lesbianhaleth’s Ainur/Elf ship poll that they’d never seen Tilion/Celegorm fic but liked the ship in theory, and I decided I had a civic duty. (I fulfilled my civic duty in 40 min, forgive the lack of editing and the roughness)

Shout-out to Ainur canon asexuality and my ever-present ainursexual Celegorm headcanon.

Tilion has had Elven friends before, but Tyelkormo was a little different.

The Elves are the most beautiful things in Arda, Olorin once said to him, and Tilion did not believe him at the time.

The Elves were fun; Tilion had thought that much since he stalked his master’s procession across the Hither Lands, keeping Elves from getting lost or hurt or stolen. At least where he could. 

He also knew the Elves to be very silly; they occupied themselves with little arguments and little arrangements. Each group of them- Teler, Vanyar, Noldor- had their own strange proclivities and complexities that they took quite seriously, and Tilion could smile and encourage and laugh at them, but he had little time for it.

The ones his master, Orome, took on were talented; skilled and clever hunters, who knew how to hide themselves even while trapped in physical forms and make themselves fearsome even while soft. Tilion admired them, and enjoyed teaching them, and befriending some of them, after a time.

But by and large, Tilion was someone whose chief joys was to let his spirit run fierce and high with his fellow Ainur- which no Elf could keep up with- and then retreat to the Gardens or Lorien to sink into dreams that took him to the Firmament and the Timeless Halls once more. These were not the joys of the Elves. There were those among his brethren who were more grounded and enjoyed the pasttimes of the quendi. That was not where Tilion saw beauty.

Except… except that here and now, upon the shore of the lake that girded the eastern side of Ezellohar, Tilion looked upon Tyelkormo in the light of just dawned Laurelin.

And he was beautiful.

Keep reading

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Makalaure entered the quiet, oft-abandoned green drawing room on the far side of their palace in Tirion intending to quickly exit through the opposite door.

Halfway into the room, though, his feet drew to a stop as he saw a familiar, light head bent over the desk. Was this where Tyelkormo had been hiding all day? His brother had startled when he paused and turned around to glare at him. He looked ever so slightly guilty.

“What are you doing?” Macalaure said with a grin, shifting his intentions and striding over. He bent over the desk to try to get a look but Tyelkormo was fast.

He immediately dropped his quill with a ‘clack’, causing ink to splatter everywhere, and snatched up the papers, pulling them to his chest.

“Ah, your shirt,” Makalaure said, standing back up. With ink that fresh, he could stain the front of the whole damn thing!

Tyelkormo was unmoved, though, perhaps because- now that Makalaure studied him- he was in an undershirt, one so roughspun it could only be one of the ones he made for himself while with the Hunt of Orome. He continued to petulantly glare, clutching his papers close, as the undried ink no doubt ran. Makalaure raised an incredulous eyebrow.

His little brother looked away as he answered.

“The Scriptures of Orome are not meant to be written,” he said, shame and guilt radiating from him, but Makalaure just smiled again, delighted.

“And yet you write them,” he breathed out, smirking.

Tyelkormo had been so staid in the rules of his Vala recently! And mind you, the laws of one such as the Lord of the Hunt were more strange and permissive and at odds with Elven society than, say, Varda’s, but still… To see his wild little brother so throughly reined in- a feat that not even their father and mother had ever been able to accomplish- after just one year in the Vala’s train was galling.

Downright concerning, in some ways, though Nelyo cautioned him to just leave Tyelkormo be. He’s figuring things out for himself, Maitimo had said.

Which Makalaure might have been more sympathetic to, had be not spent the two years prior to this one getting non-stop accounts from every family member about how Tyelkormo had all but set fire to Tirion in his bad behavior while trapped at the University. He’d promised father he’d complete a course of study before abandoning all that Elven hands had learned and made for a Vala’s hearth. He didn’t make it past the third semester.

Now, his little brother looked positively quelled as he cringed away from him and from his own illicit papers.

“Not for anyone to see,” he muttered, “just for my purposes.”

“And what are those purposes?”

He intentionally made his voice slightly suggestive just to make Turko turn crimson.

“Study,” he spat, “and reference, and, yes, appreciation, but not like that, you fucking asshole.”

Makalaure snickered and waved his anger away, saying, “Yes, yes, I believe you. By Eru do I believe you. But, Turko! What a wonderful discovery! You are a Noldo yet, you are Father’s son yet. Committing blasphemy to eek out just a bit more knowledge.”

That made Tyelkormo’s face pull uncomfortably, and Makalaure watched. He truly looked chastised, and almost fearful. As of being Father’s son was bad thing. What were these acolytes telling him?

Makalaure reached out and thumbed at his little brother’s nose, trying to wipe that serious look off his face. It worked long enough that he was able to turn away and start to say, “Well, what can you expect? We spent so much time writing out poems and philosophical tracts and translations for our recitation lessons, I think it’s quite ingrained in us to want to transliterate into Tengwar whatever we are trying to understand.”

Makalaure collapsed upon the couch, hand cradled in his palm as he leaned on the arm.

“You know, I had a similar issue? My classmates at Alqualonde would mock me for attempting to notate every piece of music we made, even the free and spontaneous ones. I couldn’t help it! I see everything in terms of ink and parchment.”

And he watched as Tyelkormo let out a long but quiet breath of relief.

“Exactly,” he said. “I do understand the point and the importance of maintaining our traditions orally, but I can’t help but think that records are necessary. Communal debate over the scriptures is one thing, and I think I am quite eloquent there-“ Of that, Macalaure had no doubt, Tyelkormo was uniquely skilled at open argument and debate.

He was suddenly hit with the desire to see his brother debate the other Acolytes of Orome on their scripture, and despaired that the Vala of the Hunt kept his practices more secretive than most.

“-but I was trained in annotation. I often wish I could sit and work through my thoughts myself with a copy of the text. But, ah, but Tilion would laugh at me to even here me speak. Everything comes back to ‘text’ in the House of Feanaro.”

“There’s nothing wrong with text,” Makalaure argued. He’d spent quite a lot of his career dedicated to text! When he was studying in Valmar, he set himself to transcribing songs and stories no one else could seem bothered to want to save and preserve and disseminate to a wider populace. Ingwe’s court laughed at him good-naturedly as well, poking fun at the oddities of Feanaro and his sons.

Another oddity, how the teasing could be meant so gently and infuriate Makalaure so.

Most did not understand why the House of Feanaro cared so for preservation, and the ones who did understand? They were dismissive and cruel.

Tyelkormo was still obviously fighting with himself over this, while Makalaure had made peace with it long ago. Naturally. He had only just recently left their father’s house, and seen that the world and it’s peoples were bigger than their father. A hard thing to remember, to be sure, so large was the presence Feanaro occupied without even trying.

Makalaure knew how overwhelming that could be. He was many years graduated from the Alqualonde Music Academy, but he still remembered how frightening and intimidating that was. Tyelkormo was still in the thick of it.

He hadn’t yet reconciled that while the world was large and Feanaro was- wonder upon wonders- not the master of everything, he also wasn’t wrong about everything, either. While there need not be infinite pride in being his son, there was no shame either.

“Turko,” Makalaure said with a whistle in his voice, and his brother looked up from the still-hidden pages he was frowning at. “The Hunt of Orome, you come from a different… academic tradition than most of them. That’s a good thing, and I believe Your Lord would agree. He encourages debate of his scriptures in his hall, does He? Well, perhaps spend this holiday transcribing your scriptures, and making your annotations, and maybe make the manuscript illuminated. I know you have the skills, Mother ensured that. Present your papers to him. Make your argument. If his rebuttal is good, well, you have an answer to the quandary that torments you. If your argument is better, He will acknowledge that. Be bold, Turkafinwe!”

And that made Tyelkormo laugh. Makalaure considered that a success.

“I’m told I’m bold enough already,” he snorted, rolling his eyes. “Do you know how many fights I have had to have in Father’s honor? They all think because they know his tale, name, and a bastardized version of his beliefs, they can say whatever they want!”

“They are fools, and they deserve to be hit,” Makalaure sniffed. He’d never gotten into a physical confrontation- his touch was gentler than Tyelkormo’s- but there had been many a biting song or poem written because of this exact thing.

No one insulted their loving, vexing, genius, foolish father correctly.

“Be bold, be bolder,” Makalaure told his little brother, rising from his seat. “You are the son of Curufinwe Feanaro, nothing can or should quell you. I will not ask to look at your scriptures, so, by Eru, write them. Study them. This is the path you have chosen, do walk it as Turkafinwe Tyelkormo. Hasty and brash and stupid and self-assured, and very brave.”

He made sure to flick Turko’s forehead on his way out.

At his back, he was happy to hear the quill be picked back up and also, “ah, shit, my shirt.”

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welcome home

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venti to rhinedottir probably at some point: can you PLEASE control your children!!!!!

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with you

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i think bilbo baggins could’ve successfully stolen a silmarill, if given the chance

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THE WAR IS SO OVER

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Thought you'd like to see my Everlasting Song fic lab covers! (Fic lab is a browser plugin you can use to download Ao3 fics into prettier docs, including adding a cover with a downloaded image for background.) Would have been nice if I could find versions of the images that fit more cleanly to the page dimensions but they still look absolutely sick imo!!

I have additional images locked and loaded for Stark, Lannister, Tully, and Tyrell, which (if I remember your comments correctly) should(?) be enough to cover every planned fic. (3 more main works and the story about their mother, right?) So like, there's that + these can be easily remade and swapped around, so if you have any input on what the "proper" image for each book should be I'm happy to hear it. (I'm worried the Tyrell one won't turn out to make sense anywhere with none of the boys a part of the house.) Sorry for this ask if it bothered you, I really hope it doesn't feel creepy or presumptuous but Everlasting Song is my favorite fic of all time and these covers make me happy and I thought they might make you happy.

Oh wow, this is so so so so cool, thank you so much! THEY LOOK GREAT!!!!

This is so sweet of you to do and share, that makes me so happy 🥰

THANK YOU!