#I like celegorm

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Dear silm fandom, concerning Fandom meta. Might be provocative for some.

‘The silm fandom is misogynistic’ ‘Feanorian fans are misunderstanding the characters’ ‘Silm fans hate Elwing’ And so on.

Can we stop? Your opinions are not better if you like feanorians. Your opinions are not better if you like peredhil. This is not black and white. I won’t argue ‘not all silm fans’, because I recognise that we have problems. But condescension will not fix them. Thank you.

[curufiin]

as per prev reblog i have stolen this for the silm fandom bc my god.

[nailsinmywall]

Family portraits: in tirion, himlath (ft. proud uncle celegorm and tiny celebrimbor), nan elmoth and doriath

[corsairspade]

Celegorm but everything about him is 10x funnier because he's a chronic ainur fucker and just doesn't tell anyone about it. He looks inwards and decides marriage is between elves so deciding to roll around with maiar of the hunt is absolutely valid and not marriage. Who's ever heard of an elf marrying a Maia?

Elven polyamory may be illegal but it doesn't count if he's just ferrying kisses between Oromë and Vána- they're not elves. No, it's not hypocritical, what are you talking about. Just don't tell his father. What? No, not because of the whole polyamory thing, Feanor's just got a thing about Valar. Yes Celegorm is sure that's the only reason he doesn't want to tell his dad.

[sesamenom]

realized the @blumineck pose was perfect for celegorm so here he is!

[oriixxc]

◇💎 illustration

[stellavesperis]

Can I just say that one thing I appreciate about this fandom is how vast and varied our interpretations of characters are? I mean, I think it’s crazy when we all agree on one thing given half the times we’re just going off pure vibes (i.e. that one post that said we all picture celegorm sleeveless 99% of the time), but I love how each of us has a unique take on each character, or has crafted a version of them that fits what we need to see. Maybe you need to see a Maedhros that heals after Angband during the watchful peace. Maybe you need to see him be not healed at all during that time. Maybe you need Fëanor to be a great father. Maybe you need to work things out and see Fëanor as less than stellar. Maybe you need Maglor’s choice to live and cast away the Silmaril to be something more than just a decision made in pain but something done in hope that there is still something left. Maybe you need to use the space of Celegorm and Curufin’s choices to capture Luthien to process things. Or maybe you just need to explain it away as narrator bias. As someone who’s used this book as a crutch through a lot of rough times, I just think it’s cool when the characters start to reflect not so much what is perfectly canon, but whatever you needed them to be for you in that moment.

[starlight-incarnate]

House of Feänor as Aesthetics:

Fëanor  —  loud voice, commanding presence, analytical, natural leader, piercing eyes, foggy hillsides, black boots, tipping their head back to breathe the air, mirrored lakes and everything below the surface, tearing leaves from trees, blunt sarcasm, long dark hair, deep sleeper, rotting tree stumps, black leather jacket, songs that makes you want to create a storm, rebellious, ambition, unstoppable passion, fast trains, polaroids, empty castles.

Maedhros — walking silently, stronger due to all the stuff meant to kill them, ignoring their mental health issues, fiery red hair, crumbling marble, oversized hoodies, raw voice, lingering touches, faint music in the distance, calming down from a panic attack, long heavy cloaks, cold hands, disillusioned with the world, insomnia, unhealthy habits, sighs made visible by cold night air, strong hugs, never sleeps, loud music, freckles, dark under-eyes.

Maglor — hypnotising smiles, a broken mind, melancholy, driving through mountains and the woods, iced coffee, the faint feeling of raindrops on your cheeks, ripped jeans, tight hugs, whispered compliments, deep conversations, late night texts, nimble hands, thin blades, white lilies, vertigo, unkept journals, lightning and thunder, rhythms so raw the heartbreak is showing, shattered glass, walking alone on a cold night, silver necklaces, regret.

Celegorm — bright eyes, climbing rock formations, cold-hearted, hard breathing after running, wood cabins, gladiator arenas, wicked smiles, twisted branches, wild hair, growing more and more dangerous, night drives, adrenaline rushes, bruises, bloody cloaks, running from society, breathless laughing, that animalistic unpredictability, silver and leather bracelets, strong coffee after a sleepless night, city lights from a high rise, addiction, barking dogs, hurricanes.

Caranthir — ironic smirks, bitten nails painted black, lightning in summer, empty threats, sunglasses hiding dead eyes, thick chain jewellery, temperamental, goes to car races just to watch the crashes, deep glares, tongue/lip piercings, midnight walks, lightbulbs burning out, diamonds, crushed ice, a glint of cat eyes in the dark, gold coins in storm drains, cold hands, storm clouds rolling in, theatres, suppressed emotions, wrought iron gates, motorcycles. 

Curufin — cherries and Diet Coke, white marble, a studio apartment on the 67th floor, tattoos, neon lights, sweetened coffee, smudged makeup, too-loud music, cursive notes written in red ink, veiny forearms, sharp canines, fresh snowfall, high rise buildings, white light, sheer robes with nothing underneath, fog, stained glass windows, colourful hair, slow heartbeats, long-forgotten love, cold mountaintops, eternal silence.

Amrod — burnished copper, feverish eyes, hues of orange and gold, stars and spades, brewing tea, freckles, hardwood floors, poisonous flowers, listens to Hozier, messy hair, fake circle glasses, bullet point notes on a restaurant napkin, comfortable silence, broken wings on insects, old hungers, the whispering of trees, kicking stones on deserted paths, forgotten places, origami stars, old overgrown stone castles, morning mist, horse riding.

Amras  —  misplaced keys, wandering aimlessly, selectively mute, deep lakes hiding secrets, pine trees, restless nights, misunderstood, reliving the same day over and over again, graphic tees, dead moths, visual mind, muffled screams into a pillow, listens to asmr, doc martens, profanity, burned cigarettes, zoning out often, heart fluttering nervously, confusing satellites for stars, comic filled bookshelves, radios, old jeeps, glowing keyboards.

Celebrimbor — ravens, white-hot metal, the darkest shade of black, glittering skin, low waist pants, stars falling, the heat lingering in the evening, petals falling off dead flowers, trusting the wrong people, blue veins, cobblestone paths, linoleum tiles, bruises/scars easily, the heat lingering in the evening, cities awake late, card games, overanalysing everything, shiny fabrics, the slamming of a shot glass, the sting of betrayal.

[chaos-of-the-abyss]

pretty interesting how curufin tells eol "those who steal the daughters of the noldor and wed them without gift or leave do not gain kinship with their kin," but then later, along with celegorm, does something similar and even more unambiguously nonconsensual to luthien. the phrasing -- specifically "daughters of the noldor," not just "daughters" or something similarly broad -- gives the impression that curufin's issue with eol isn't in the fact that he's a creep who "stole" a woman away, but rather in the fact that it was a noldorin woman, and curufin's own cousin and friend, who was "stolen" by eol. you can certainly make the argument, given that he doesn't mention aredhel by name and given the phrasing of the reprimand, that he's not angry for her sake but purely about the fact that, from his point of view, eol failed to show the noldor proper respect by going through all the formalities expected when marrying one of them -- but my preferred reading of this line is that it's both. yes, he's angry on the more impersonal behalf of the noldor, but he's also angry because aredhel is his cousin and friend and he cares about her. and it's kind of... disturbing, almost, to picture curufin so understandably offended and enraged on aredhel's (and his family's) behalf as he rebukes eol -- only to then, a few decades later, lie to, seize, and detain luthien against her will, the entire time seeing her as just a piece of meat to further his and celegorm's political goals. he doesn't care what a horrific violation of her autonomy he and his brother are committing; he doesn't even think about the fate he's sentencing her to in planning to force thingol to marry her to celegorm. her outrage, her fear, her distress -- all of it means nothing to him. it probably doesn't so much as occur to him that aredhel might have experienced the same thing he and celegorm are putting luthien through

[ela-draws]

The last 2 children of Fingolfin and Anaire ! Aredhel and Argon !

[eloquentsisyphianturmoil]

Maedhros’ abdication is so funny because every feanorian was probably salivating over his return like oOOooOoh Nelyo’s back, oh yeah we got our King now you see what he’ll do to you Nolofinwe he’ll really put you in your place huh buddy, good old Nelyo’s not gonna stand for this disrespect he’ll show you the crown belongs with us. And then

[isilwhore]

Cheer up, Moryo 🥺

He’s just in a mood, he’s fine

[nailsinmywall]

lords of himlad (The Himlads) curufin and celegorm

[corsairspade]

you are a god's best friend. the world is young still, and you are yet younger. he rides with you and hunts with you, and teaches you how to speak to birds and beasts. you are a god's student. you ride in his train and care for a hound that he gifted to you. gods have taught others before. gods have been kindly to others before. your god is your best friend. he gifts you something of his self, a hound of his own hunt.

you are your father's son. your grandfather is dead. no one has ever called you wise, and you are, above all else, your father's son. he swears a terrible oath. you swear a terrible oath. you don't know if you really mean it, but your mother named you well- you are hasty to rise, hasty to run into things. the hunt teaches you patience but you cannot outrun yourself. you are your father's son.

you are a god's best friend and you have sworn a terrible oath, but it is an oath that you hope that your friend can understand. to hunt the murderer of your grandfather, is something that the god of the hunt can understand.

you are your father's son. the blood of elves on your hands does not feel different than the blood of a deer, except in the tight feeling of your throat. except in the thunderous beating of your heart. you tell your brother, who is trying not to throw up, that you need to think of them like deer. he looks at you like he's never seen you before. you are forever doomed.

you are a god's best friend. he does not say goodbye, but your dog comes with you. surely you can fix this, then, surely you are still a god's friend.

you are your father's son. he dies. he dies but before he does, he tells you to burn the boats. you do. you are your father's son. your father dies and, he tells you to swear that oath once more. it is a terrible oath. you have sworn it once. you swore to your best friend once. surely it will not tip the scales to swear once more, if in your mind, you dedicate this hunt to him.

you were a god's best friend, and it is not enough. you are your father's son, and you speak your father's oath. it proceeds to eat you alive.

[likesdoodling]

Guess who just made another Silmarillion animatic~ >:D

I DID! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA-

(this is based on the premise of Maglor recovering at Rivendell and not being a fan of the whole 'therapy/counselling' idea that Elrond just keeps on bringing up-)

[bleuarte]

Young Celegorm and Curufin dressing as Orome in his autumn-form