#Polu

[polutrope]

For the birthday event... Maedhros, Maglor, the river Gelion? 👀❤️

also for @theghostinthemargins who requested Maedhros & Maglor, Himring

Maedhros & Maglor, a getaway on the Gelion. Rated G, 900 words. Written by @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Káno,” Maedhros said, voice dipping with displeasure on the second syllable, “do you mean to tell me you took me from overseeing the construction of the great gate of my new fortress… for a pond?”

“A pond?” Maglor laughed. “This is a glorious, crystalline swimming hole!”

“It is a hole, I’ll grant you that. You told me it was urgent.” Maedhros rubbed at the back of his neck and sighed noisily. “Stop laughing. I am not amused. We will have to make the journey back in the dark now, and the horses will be tired.”

“Not to worry!” Maglor patted his mare’s saddlebags. “I brought us all the necessaries for at least three days camping.”

“No!” cried Maedhros. “We are not camping! There is work to be done! Tomorrow the workmen are due to set the foundations of the north tower; I must be present to approve the plans of the tile-settings for the west kitchens — and before you say I can entrust that to Lostir, let me remind you of the pattern he approved for the crenellations — what is the matter with you?”

“The kitchens!” Maglor wheezed, doubled-over and clutching his stomach. “Crenellations! Oh! ho! Yes, yes, you had better be sure the kitchens are tiled to your liking, as I am certain you will be spending so much time in the kitchens!”

“I might. Once we are settled. Didn’t you say yourself that I should find new ways of 'expressing myself'?” Maedhros scowled. “And what if I am needed to assist with transporting stones from the quarry? It is good for the workmen’s morale if I participate in the labour.”

“Nelyo,” Maglor said, collecting himself. “Do you remember the year when Amil persuaded Atar to hire Rauron to oversee the restoration of the Mindon’s mosaics, so that he need not go into Tirion himself?”

“Yes,” said Maedhros, glaring. “And I know exactly where you are going with this. This is not like that. This is warfare, this is lordship, it is not mere… decorative restoration.”

“Decorative? It is good Atar cannot hear you now. But no, that is not what I was getting at. Do you remember, that time he took us with him to show us the project, how obvious it was to us — not to him, of course — how little the craftsmen appreciated his interference? Hóndil all but rolled his eyes right out of his head every time Atar turned his back.”

Maedhros went silent and looked away. Maglor waited. At last, he cleared his throat. “Do you think… ? I am not as bad as Father… ? Really?”

Maglor took several steps over the mossy riverbank to stand behind him. He gave his brother’s back three reassuring pats. “Yes, Nelyo. I’m afraid that is really how they feel about your participation. They respect you of course, immensely. But I fear if you do not leave them a little more space, where their expertise is concerned, it may wear away at their fondness for you. Besides,” he said, nudging Maedhros round to face him, ���you have been working too hard. What good is a castle with strong foundations if its lord is brittle with cares?”

“I am not brittle,” Maedhros sneered, and shoved Maglor off him. But then his face broadened into a smile and he shook his head. “Fine, you make a strong case. I only wish you had not used deceit to bring me here.”

“There was no deceit!” cried Maglor. “The sky portends rain tomorrow – it was urgent that you visit this pool of the Gelion while the weather is pleasant.”

Maedhros dragged a long breath through his nose, then released it. “It is so quiet,” he said. 

Not so to Maglor: the Gelion bubbled and rushed and the wind rustled the grasses and the birds chittered in the trees, but he did not trouble to correct his brother. There is noise, and there is sound, and to many the latter is quiet. 

“I can hear myself think,” said Maedhros, “and I do not like it.”

There it was. “Yes, the mind will clamour rather loudly for attention when you have given it no opportunity to be heard for so long. But it will go away.”

Maedhros hummed his agreement.

“You know what helps?” asked Maglor, and winked.

“Cold water,” Maedhros answered, deadpan — and was well-prepared for Maglor’s assault, leveraging his much longer limbs to seize Maglor by the waist as he ran at him, then diverting the momentum to hurl Maglor directly into the pool, fully-clothed.

“You brute!” Maglor cried through his laughter, and swung his arms over a log that drifted near the water’s edge. 

“Repayment for your guile.”

“Fair,” said Maglor, and flopped lazily onto his back. He dipped down — the kicked as hard as he could, sending a spray of water into Maedhros’ face. “Now get in, you insufferable rat!”

“Watch how you speak to your lord!” Maedhros jested. 

Then he sat to pull off his boots and roll his trousers to his knees. Wading in, he hissed when his feet touched the water. Maglor drifted, without interfering, watching the lines of care slowly fade from his brother’s face as he surrendered to the waters of their new home.

[melestasflight]

mel i SO misunderstood the assigment

vinyamar, maglor, fingon, idril. <-prompt that follows the vibe

Turgon, Fingon, Idril & Maglor, summer festival in Vinyamar. Rated G, 550 words. By @polutrope and @melestasflight. On AO3.

“Of all our kin, did you have to bring him along?” Turgon growls at his older brother.

“Vinyamar shall be a city for all, a cultural melting pot of Beleriand, did you not say so yourself?” Fingon says in perfect imitation of Turgon’s own voice, moving his arms about as he does at public speeches, then laughs out loud when Turgon lifts his eyebrows in warning. “Oh come, little brother, cheer up! You well know that none can bring more life to a party than Makalaurë. Half of these people are here to see him perform.” 

“They are here because they take interest in building something new where we can prosper and grow as people.” Turgon has worked hard to ready the halls of Vinyamar for the summer harvest festival, the first to be celebrated in his new city, and he will be damned if a son of Fëanor steals the show. 

“Yes, yes, as you say,” Fingon waves a hand dismissively.

Unappeased, Turgon releases his grip on his brother’s shoulder and glares across the hall at the bodies clustering around the pavilion. The musicians expressly hired for the festival have cleared a space; Maglor directs them as though each were connected by a thread to his fingers, having them arrange his set-up just so. 

“Do at least attempt to look pleased, father.” Turgon starts, and looks back. Idril smiles wide, handing him a short glass of his favourite mint cordial, cleverly disguised as the much stronger liquor others have begun to pass around. “Vinyamar’s first summer festival is proving to be a much greater success than I ever imagined!” She takes a sip of her own drink, eyes crinkled and bright with amusement.

“Thank you,” he says, then: “Yes, I am sure, by the small hours of the morning when all are thoroughly besotted with drink, all will be singing my brother’s praises for ‘turning the mood around’.”

But Idril is only half-listening, watching the performance with glee, and Turgon follows her eyes. Fingon has joined Maglor on the stage, and has brought out some unusual Grey-elven instrument, the horn of some great beast, gilded and marked with holes like a pipe. Fingon blows a first sequence of notes, a fierce vibration of sound. He draws the instrument from his lips, laughing, and Maglor laughs with him. When they resume playing, it is to the accompaniment of stamping feet and, soon, the crowd clapping and singing along, swept up in the rhythm and merriment.

It is contagious, and Turgon cannot keep the smile from dancing over his face. 

“That is better!” Idril cries. “Here, will you keep this for me?” She shoves her drink in his hand; as she runs and leaps towards the pavilion, she hikes her skirts to her knees, baring the glittering silver filigree of her ankles, and dances joyfully before and around Fingon and Maglor’s playing.

Turgon may not understand his brother’s spirited excesses; he may resent Maglor’s enduring popularity; but, he finds such frustrations melt off his shoulders at the simple sight of his daughter dancing, so full of mirth and life.

He looks around, and finding no one is truly paying attention, Turgon downs his cordial, the rest of Idril’s drink, and strides over to join Idril on the dance floor.

[dirty-bosmer]

Mages Guild doodles I drew while sick

[lyuluuh]

love this genre of fn skin

[dushpshpsh]

the literal situation from one of the sessions btw

[bugsnax]

yayyyy the party met my other npc today in dnd :3

[naciapiracia]

a poll for Polish speakers

if you are learning/speak only some Polish and didn't previously know any term for "outside" in Polish, pick the "i don't speak Polish" option

[00lari00]

I feel bad that I'm not drawing much of anything these days and not even on my own whiteboard :'] I saw all the people drawn and I haven't been able to participate properly yet because I don't have time.

I still have 2 important drawings to finish and things to do, I promised myself I wouldn't draw in class for the sake of my good grades.

BUT MY WIP WILL BE DONE ONE DAY I PROMISE!!! I just feel a little tired these days because of my classes :'] but I'll still be online to chat and see the whiteboard drawings!! I'll reblog as many as I can I promise!! 💕🌟

Just some drawings I managed to do these days

Fusion of Pollo and Brutus- Polus belong to me and @smoresthehalloweenqueen

A drawing of Jaques with Reginald because..yes XD Version of my au!

Lyan and their boyfriend Picadin

And the brothers Pollo and Mary belong to @capturecharlesau and @jaytoons7

[polutrope]

Party with us! 🥳

We, @melestasflight and @polutrope, have our birthdays coming up around the turn of the New Year (no, we are not actually twins). To celebrate, we are throwing a prompt party!

Drop an ask in either of our inboxes with:

The names of 2 to 4 Silmarillion characters

Any canonical place (buildings, cities, realms, mountains, rivers – you name it)

Any DNWs, if applicable

… and we will write a small dialogue or scene with those characters.

We will keep prompts open as long as we’re feeling inspired. While we’d love to fill them all, our creative energies are finite – know that we’re grateful for all prompts, whether we fill them or not. 

[melestasflight]

Happy happy birthday!! I hope it’s such a lovely one!

Hmm, perhaps some gen of Fingon, Finrod, and Aegnor at Barad Eithel being very cousin-siblings and giving each other a hard time about whatever you will?

What a lovely idea of how to celebrate on here!

Aegnor, Finrod, Fingon, Galdor, seducing the Edain. Rated G, 840 words. Written by @polutrope and @melestasflight and right in time for @arafinwean-week On AO3.

Aegnor looks up from his cup to where Finrod is still interrogating Galdor on some obscure Edain lore regarding fire rituals. From what he has absently gathered, they have existed among the House of Hador since bygone times in the East.

He was eager to meet his eldest brother at Barad Eithel, both of them having come for Fingon’s begetting day feast. They have not seen each other in over a year, and there is so much to catch up on, but for most of the night, Finrod has ignored him utterly. Aegnor is not surprised: he cannot compete for Finrod’s attention in the presence of any mortal person even remotely willing to engage in discussion.

Aegnor pours himself a fourth cup of wild rice wine and has downed half of it when Fingon plops himself on the bench beside him, half sitting on his lap, and throws his arms around his neck.

“My dearest cousin, I am so glad you are here.” He kisses his cheek. “Why are you not dancing?” Fingon is deep into his cups already; his fair face is flushed and he is even louder and more cheerful than usual.

Here at least is one who will take interest in what he has to say, Aegnor thinks, and hooks his arm around Fingon’s waist with a squeeze. “I am happy to see you, too. Sit with me for a while?”

Fingon grins at him and then collects himself a little. “How have you fared? What’s the news in Dorthonion?”

“Nothing much since you last visited, but we completed the watchtowers overlooking the plain,” Aegnor begins. He goes on to talk about his construction projects, the new foals born in his herds, the collection of poetry he’s begun writing.

Fingon nods enthusiastically and asks questions here and there. Before long, however, his gaze strays across the table and he interrupts Aegnor mid-sentence. “Is that Galdor?”

“Yes, the poor lad, my brother has had him trapped for the past two hours.” Aegnor is eager to return to the subject of his poetry, but Fingon is no longer listening. His cousin’s eyes are blown wide and dark, and he rakes them up and down the man’s body.

“Your staring is not subtle at all,” Aegnor teases.

“I have never seen him like this, in his princely attire,” Fingon mutters, seemingly more to himself than in response to Aegnor.

Aegnor follows Fingon’s gaze. Galdor has only recently come to manhood; he is even taller than his father, Hador, but no less blond. Free from the helmet and heavy armor that usually hide most of his face and body, he is resplendent, his hair falling to his shoulders in fine golden waves and a handsome stubble adorning his chin. He is most fine to the eye, Aegnor has to admit.

Galdor is, undoubtedly, Fingon’s type. His cousin has a history of seducing the Men of Dor-lómin: a brief affair with Hador himself before his marriage to Gildis; then, Hador’s cousin Handar; and now, it seems, Hador’s own son.

“You cannot be serious, Findekáno. Again?” Aegnor rolls his eyes and smacks Fingon’s shoulder.

“You are a fine one to talk, Aikanáro,” Fingon hisses. “It's not me who patrols bëorian villages in the moonlight.”

Aegnor glares at him, but Fingon pays him no heed. His cousin stands up, downs the cup of rice wine he has been nursing, straightens his clothes and the circlet upon his head, and resolutely marches to where Galdor and Finrod are conversing, heedless of whatever it is Finrod is now explaining to the man. Fingon grins like a fool as he looks down to where Galdor kneels to kiss his ring finger, then he pulls the man up to his feet and whispers something into his ear that washes Galdor’s cheeks pink.

Fingon turns to wink at Aegnor and then he is gone, leading Galdor by the hand, and disappearing among the crowd of dancing pairs.

Aegnor cannot help but chuckle, easily forgiving his cousin. This is Fingon’s party, after all, and he deserves to have a merry time. He picks up his cup, the bottle of rice wine, and walks over to take the seat recently vacated by Galdor.

“Another failed attempt at learning the lore of the House of Hador, brother?” he jests with Finrod.

“Did you know their people worshipped Arien as their God at first? I was so close to having Galdor reveal the meaning behind their fire rituals,” Finrod blurts out, mildly frustrated. “Damn you, Findekáno,” his brother curses, but he chuckles as he says this; there is no true resentment in his words.

They both watch Galdor and Fingon, now twirling on the dance floor. Fingon’s hands are firmly planted on Galdor’s waist, and the man grins brightly at him, blue eyes all for Fingon.

“The boy looks quite smitten with him,” Aegnor tells Finrod.

“He has no chance against our cousin’s charm,” Finrod snorts.

“Care for a dance, brother?”

“Why not,” says Finrod with a smile, and jumps up, pulling Aegnor from the bench with him.

[ippokampos]

[radiantrookie]

[marcusstrypes]

Tldr; mean comments were unnecessary, still ship bakudeku and togachako, let me be delulu on the Internet, happy for Izuocha, death threats to horikoshi WERENT AND NEVER WILL BE OKAY IF YOU WERE ONE OF THEM GET OUT

Alright my last post about Izuocha becoming canon got some traction and nasty comments

It's nice to have opinions but PLEASE be respectful and don't be mean in comments just because someone expressed they prefer bkdk and togachako instead of izuocha (which I still ship)

I am happy for these 2 fictional beans, and they do look cute together. I didn't mean to come across as "grrr my gay headcanon didn't become canon I must go feral now GRRRR"

I still prefer bakudeku and togachako over izuocha even though they're now canon

I have already seen people using this as a way to be homophobic. "Bkdk shippers now look delusional as always" just because izuocha became canon. I'm sorry but that is not stopping people from making ships

Does that mean I am all for sending death threats to Horikoshi? FUCK NO! and if you were one of the people who did that FUCK OFF FROM MY PAGE YOU HAVE NO PLACE HERE

I don't have time for passive aggressive or straight up mean comments. I just stated my opinion (I understand this is the Internet and people have the right to literally respond to me) but there is no reason to be straight up mean or passive aggressive

I apologize if my original post sounded like I was really upset over bakudeku and togachako not becoming canon, that was not my intention.

Am I upset? A little, but at the end of the day, they're fictional characters, and the world will keep on spinning. So this will leave my mind in the next hour because I have better shit to do than to argue over what fictional character should have ended up with another fictional character. As long as they're the same age and can consent and it's not overly sexualised I AM FINE WITH IT. Hell ship mineta with the girls. I don't care because they are the same age! As long as it's not pedophilic or has a power imbalance like hawks x endeavour (still iffy about this ship because Hawks is a big fan and endeavour could take advantage of him??? Like, yeah, they are adults, but I am iffy about fan x celebrity ships)

What I'm trying to say is ship whoever and whatever you want even if izuocha is canon. I don't care if you'll call me delusional because I still prefer bakudeku and togachako. I am fine with that. Let me be delulu on the Internet.

Again I just respectfully wanted to talk about how izuocha seemed forced but after some passive aggressive and unnecessary mean explanation in the comments, yes I can see why they ended up together. I did say it WASNT UNNECESSARILY OUT OF NOWHERE

Also, yes, I understand people are passionate about these things, but still, there was no need to be mean or passive aggressive :(

Thank you for coming to my Ted talk

Here have a denki in these trying times

[xenobotany]

when i was younger mx. nomi-nomi taught me how to make websites on the network. so i made one dedicated to my vriki "polus jr." and i thought it would be vital to share to the masses.

I LOVE POLUS JR!!!!!

[miravariable]

some art i've drawn for the dnd campaign i'm dming for some friends! (they finally met my 2nd important npc, Polus!)

[wannabeyakuza]

So.....Devyat Rodya huh? Before I say anything else I gotta say that death 2 line is genuinely the most harrowing and unironically disturbing thing in this game, the 100 percent honest fear and panic in Rodya's voice is enough to make me never wanna stack courier trunks ever. Out of all the death lines in game this is the realest reaction to getting pasted so far.

As for the ID story I definitely am placing this ID at the number 2 spot for saddest Rodya ID with the obvious number 1 being T-corp, not alot of her lines show it(obviously) but she's clearly very afraid of Polu and it's history doesn't help much being essentially a bad omen case. Stack on top of that no pun intended, that the Devyat basically have her walking through the arctic with a time limit? Wallahi she is not having a good time. Free her man.

The ID itself? It's something alright, making a unit so heavily reliant on the chain battle system this early is certainly a choice but she applies good rupture count and her damage whens she's not running away is nice. In the future when chain battles are more frequent and more devyat units drop she'll probably be better but right now? Uh well uh...Sheeesh uh.... Anyway all is forgiven it's like Kanye said "Prettiest people do the ugliest things" and right now her ugly crime is being released to early. I forgive her though. After all she can do no wrong.