#Tyelko is an ass

[psstwantsomecheese]

Shout out to Fingon for being the true MVP carrying the entire Noldor war effort in Valinor. Like imagine if he didn't want to go. Sorry Feanor but speeches can only get you so far Fingolfin won't come without his son, Finarfin dips either way and I doubt Finrod was gonna follow Feanor if not only his father but uncle, cousins and brothers choose to stay. Galadriel MAYBE but you know she's immediately just gonna ditch them the second they land in Losgar all this to say

damn Maedhros' pussy must've been enchanted–

[admirableringmaker]

He took Curufin's hands in his own, for a moment, and let power wash through them. It would not heal it; it had not healed his lord. But it was soothing, or so Morgoth had claimed.

The game was up - entangling himself further in lies would only make extracting himself more complicated. It was better to reveal himself here, where he could easily dispose of Curufin. In Nargothrond he would be out numbered. But that did not mean he would reveal all of his designs; he would play the defecting Lieutenant, the shamed lord of werewolves, pretend he had no intention of returning to Morgoth's side.

"Carcharoth recognised me indeed. I have not been entirely honest with you, son of Fëanor."

And the disguise fell. From the roots of his hair a deep, blood red colour spread, and he seemed taller, brighter, with the light of the Ainur. His nails lengthened into to claws, his teeth to fangs. "I was Sauron of Tol-in-Gaurhoth. But now I am Annatar of... nowhere."

“Is that all it takes to charm a werewolf of Angband?” He rolled his eyes, for he was definitely not in the mood to pretend like he believed every single word Annatar stuffed down his pretty throat. No, he knew what lies tasted like, and he knew it too well. “Oh, Carcharoth, do not tear my flesh from my bones! Terrible Carcharoth, have mercy on me!”

He kicked at Carcharoth’s corpse with a grunt, and placed Angrist back in its holster, hanging bare from the side of his thigh. “And, forgive my prodding. It seemed like that beast look a liking to you as well. I saw the hesitation in its eyes as it turned to you. Please, explain just how you managed to sway a fell beast so I may teach my brother the same tricks.”

Curufin knew he was playing a dangerous game, snapping at the elf who had just helped him reclaim his father’s work, but… okay he doesn’t have an excuse. He’s in a bad mood. He sighed loudly, trying to not question everything he had done, every life he had taken to get to where he is now. “…I’m sorry, I don’t… good lord. No, no- you don’t need to heal me. I can bear it. Eru, Tyelko’s going to kill me.”

[blueflipflops]

I desperately would love love LOVE to introduce Feanorians to a Quenyan version of Scrabble and watch them explode

I imagine that they'd make a bigger board to be able to fit 10-12 players and it would go on for days. With bickerings on the validity of words and with Moryo as the score keeper who can't quite keep his mouth shut and joins in on the bickering on wheter the word choice is "so fucking stupid, Tyelko. It should be banned on principle. What the fuck-". Each of the Feanorion just keeps on making up new rules especially after the Ambarussa makes up new words and argues for a whole hour and a half that it "totally counts as a word. Trust us, Nelyo-", that time Meadhros tried to pass a whole ass sentence as a "word", when Feanor took almost 12+ hours to think up an appropriate word to put down and etc.

Because come on guys. Ñoldor? "Those with great knowledge"? Feanor? The guy who created a whole ass writing system (the Tengwar)? His family? Who is just as intense and competitive as him? His step-siblings who would no doubt love an excuse to throw down without getting into trouble with the Valar or Finwë? Scrabble is THE BEST for Ñoldor Family Game Night(s).

I can just imagine Feanor playing scrabble with Finwë, Indis, Nolofinwë, Arafinwë, Írimë and Findis. Oh boyy. Findis is keeping score but everyone keeps trying to justify how they should have a higher score that word. Nolo and Feanor are shouting. Accusing each other for cheating. Ara made a throwaway joke once and suddenly BOTH his brothers are shouting at him. Indis saw the chaos and wanted to put away the game but was immediately stopped. Finwë is just happy to spend time with his family. Írimë is, in fact, the one who is cheating

Edit: More Feanorion shenanigans here! For part 2

Edit: And another! For part 3

Edit: Part 4!

[Edited to keep it to one post. Was too excited to post]

[pearlescentpearl]

I ended up getting three asks about the Morgoth’s Evil Cats thing so instead of answering the same question three times I shall simply make one big post

@theghostinthemargins @ymfingsteadilyon

Okay, so we’re all aware of Tevildo right? Evil cat Maia? How aware are we of Miaulë (female, Tevildo’s cook), Umuiyan (male, doorkeeper for Tevildo), and Oikeroi (male, warrior under Tevildo)?

If you weren’t, now you are

Anyway. Imagine, if you will, being a quartet of cats who somehow survived the Valar sieging Melkor’s fortresses, and the guy standing in charge in the rubble is some self-important dog person who free roams his fucking werewolves all over the place. You can no longer thrive in this household, you are packing your little rucksacks and leaving.

Leaving where? Well... you guess you’ll go sneak into Valinor and check on the Big Boss, you were pretty happy under his employ once upon a time. But the only sneaky way in is, uh... the Helcaraxë. Now, the Big Boss may make crossing it look easy enough but he invented cold! Most Ainu don’t actually care for it no matter how well they endure it.

So now you’re in Araman and you have to wear the guise of normal ass cats or risk being discovered and captured as spies. Which would be personally very inconvenient. So now you’re a very bedraggled quartet of Maia cats by the time you get to the only opening in the Pelóri; the Calacirya where Tirion-upon-Túna lies.

And this is what Maitimo finds while out hiking, and either natural elven compassion for living creatures, or perhaps just plain conditioned reflex from wee brothers (mostly Tyelko) bringing home pathetic injured animals for nursing, has him going, awww poor lil guys, you want some help? And Tevildo and co. normally would gut him on principle buuuut... Maitimo has food. And gentle hands. Is practically a space heater with his inner fire. Plus, he’s carrying them up to Tirion, so fine, whatever, they agree he’s their new servant now. They can just recover in his home real quick and then carry on with their quest.

Naturally, they feel no inclination to leave where they’re being pampered with fresh fish, and chin scritches, and brushies, and all the praise they deserve, and also Laurelin beams are amazing to sleep in? What the hell, there were no Laurelin beams under Big Boss!

As it turns out, evil cat behavior is nigh indistinguishable from normal needy, high strung, asshole cat behavior.

Picture, if you will, the look on Melkor’s face the first time he enters Finwë’s palace, and there is Maitimo pinned to a couch in a Laurelin beam by Melkor’s evil cats, what the hell.

Tevildo and co. are not going back to work under a guy who doesn’t give fish, or chin scritches, or warm beams of light to sleep in, no sir. Shove it up your ass, Big Not-Boss.

Melkor: Oh, that’s just rich. When I demand special treatment, it’s unfair. When I enslave elves, it’s evil. When I make people bleed to express my displeasure, it’s cruel. But when you four do it--

Tevildo and co.: *yawn* Should have been a cat 🙄

Naturally, when Melkor’s scheming starts interfering in their Maitimo time, something has to be done about Melkor once and for all

[lamemaster]

10 Ways You Kiss Your Resident Elf (Maglor x Reader)

Love comes in many forms and your love comes in kisses. Load full of them and unstoppable kisses. And Makalaure loves them. He writes them in every single one of his songs. He weaves them into his songs that he keeps hidden away, songs only for him. 

Kissing in front of your dessert- Makalaure sighs as he examines his plate of cheesecake and yours. And you, his dearest spouse, beam at your plate. “Dessert before dinner because OUR HOUSE, OUR RULES,” your declaration remains unchallenged. Makalaure being the dutiful husband he is fulfills the role and chomps down his piece of cake. In a matter of minutes, the cake is gone and with a frown, you turn to him. “Not sweet enough,” you mutter with a pout. Makalaure is about to object to your intention of another slice when his vision floods with you. A small peck on his lips and your face lights up. “Sweetest,” you say as you make a run without finishing the dinner for the third time in the week. 

Something stuck in the eye- “Wait…by Illuvatar Kano!” You stand and swat away his hands as he almost pokes your eye with his stupid finger. “You can’t do that. You need to clean the debris not pluck my eyeball out.” The said elf looks comically offended, “Alright then do it yourself,” he proclaims but does not step away. “Okay little drama queen just blow some air in my eye you oaf,” you hold open your eyelids as you observe Makalaure inch closer to do as you instructed. With his lips pouted to blow the air when you kiss him. “Sike,” an innocent kiss that is not innocent as you wink at him.

Jump scare kiss- “Boo,” you scream as you jump outside the closet and Kano falls down on his ass. His face is frozen into an unchanging expression of horror. Laughing manically you descend to help your husband stand up. While doing so you bend down and offer your hand to the elf who still lacks any kind of reaction. “Melda?” You question. “Ai, snap out of it.” You wave your hand in front of his unfocused eyes. “Okay, I’m sorry.” You whisper as you bend down and place a gentle kiss on his lips. Then suddenly your feet slip and you find yourself falling towards the ground. From the corner of your eye, you see your dearest husband smirk, and oh boy it's on.

Butterfly kiss- you are sitting in Makalaure’s lap. The warmth of Laurelin’s rays fills your room. You breathe your husband’s lingering lavender scent. His fingers, lined with callouses from his beloved harp, rub unmatched patterns on your back. You turn your face to him so that your eyes line with his cheek. Smiling you lean in and blink your eyes. Your eyebrows flutter on his cheek and your husband pauses. He gives you a questioning look. Shaking your head you continue to bask in each other’s company. 

Flying kiss- The room has burst into chaos. The Ambarussar are running wild chased by Carnistir and Tyelko. Nerdanel stands in the corner with a horrified look on her face. Your mother-in-law looks equal parts terrified and exhausted. Your father-in-law is nowhere to be seen. You marvel at Kano’s ability to be unaffected by everything as he continues sipping his tea. “The twins can come with us,” your voice breaks the chaos. Ambarussar instantly turn to their mother with the most innocent look in their eyes. Nerdanel seems nowhere close to refusing. And Kano looks at you with a deep look of faux hurt as he wipes the tea he spluttered moments ago. “It works right husband?” You question and you blow him a flying kiss.

Curtsey kiss- The court gawks. You bend on your knee, and even with your atrociously fluffy gown you kneel and offer your hand. Makalaure does not seem fazed. Instead, he looks proud. Without a moment of hesitation, he puts his hand in your hand which you kiss with the grace of a knight. Uncaring the pair of you lead the city of Tirion into a culture shock as they watch their prince being led by his wife. You dance unbothered by horrified elves. 

French kiss- You moan and so does he when you tug his hair. Your kiss deepens with your tongues fighting a lovely battle. Kano’s hands explore your body as you both maneuver your way to your bed without breaking the kiss. “Bloody Fuck!” You curse and your kiss is interrupted as your back arches not in pleasure but in pain. “Did you leave your harp on the bed again?”

Morning kiss- Fading light of Telperion still fills the sky. You wake up to a still dreaming Makalaure. Entrapped by your husband’s peaceful expression you find yourself trapped in a dilemma. To initiate a tickle fight or to not. He was taller and somewhat powerful but you could win. However, your twitching fingers could not do it. You find yourself weak at the moment. So, abandoning your former plan for another day you settle for cuddling your husband as you kiss him to land of wakefulness.

Angry kiss- “Don’t go,” you whisper. “I will follow my father.” Your husband’s voice is full of steel and taut with tension. He is leaving Tirion. Going to the desolate land of Formenos. “Your mother stays back. Stay for her sake.” You beg. If not for you, you wish he stays for his mother. Gripping your shoulders Kano looks into your eyes with a wild look. “I will follow my father and if you don’t want to, you don’t need to.” His grip hurts but not more than his words. That day your kiss leaves you broken. Your lips swollen and bleeding are only reminders of your husband.

Goodbye kiss- You can’t. You can’t speak or stop him. He has bound himself to an oath. It is only fair he stands by his family. Avenging his grandfather is his duty. You know this yet, you cannot stop the agony you feel. He is there in your room packing his things and leaving yours. Your closet looks half empty and it rips your heart. You know you should not cry but tears don’t stop as you help him gather his belongings. You will not follow him. You will stay back for Nerdanel. For his mother on his request. “No…no, please. Kano” You caress his face, trying to memorize every detail of him. You’re weak as you kiss him goodbye. You kiss him longer putting all your love, pain, longing, and prayers into that one kiss.

[doodle-pops]

I just gotta know the elves reaction (any of which you would like but I'm mostly speaking in general) would react to me and my brothers banter, we're both genz lmao. So tik Tok sounds will be yelled across the house randomly "objection!"

"NUh uh" "fxk you mean nUh uh"

This morning he said something to which I replied "oompa loompa doopity doo, I have to know who the fk asked you" to which he promptly replied "your father, he's looking for someone to replace your disappointing ass" (he's my half brother our dad's are different)

We both have buzzcuts, (I'm female) because there's something wrong with us ✨phycology✨ love ya babes, take care yeah? Also this doesn't need to be a reactions or one shot more so your opinion if anything lol

The "oompa loompa" part got me. But what I can say, this is 99.9% of them listening to the banter:

But the 0.1% is enjoying the argument because they just love seeing people quarrel:

The more laid back elves like Tyelko, Glorfindel, Ambarussar maybe Finrod and Fingon might pick up on the phrase once they learn the meaning and use it when they can. I can definitely see Feanor saying the "fym nuh uh" when he can't have his way.

Feanor: You are not permitted a giant dog.

Tyelko: Objection! ✋ Nuh uh! ☝️

Feanor: The fuck you mean 'nUh uH'🤨?!

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

I hope you enjoy this @cilil

Pairing: Modern! Eönwë x Modern! Tulkas (This is purely from Eönwë’s POV)

Secondary characters: Oromë | Celegorm

Themes: Soft | Fluff | NSFW

Warnings: Explicit language | Alcohol use |Mutual pining | Kissing

Wordcount: 1.8K

Summary: A secret comes to light when Eönwë spends the holidays with Tulkas and their friends.

Minors DNI | 🔞 | Your are responsible for the media you consume

Divider by @estrelinha-s

They had all gathered in front of the fireplace, enjoying glasses of mulled wine and beer and dessert. Outside, the wind had died down considerably, and only a pleasant snowfall remained.

“You have outdone yourself yet again, my friend.” Tulkas raised his glass to thank his hosts and good friends for inviting them all over to spend the holidays at the family cabin. “And thank you for inviting us and allowing us to barge in on your time with Tyelko.”

Celegorm had already made his excuses and retired for the night, having traveled for most of the day and the night before to reach the cabin. It was only the three of them sitting together and making plans for their holiday while the lights on the Christmas tree twinkled and the fire sputtered away merrily.

“You are always welcomed; you know that.” Oromë raised his own glass in response. “And with the two of you here, we can perhaps squeeze in a bit of ice fishing? The lake is not far from the cabin.”

“Freezing our asses off during the holidays?” Eönwë finished his beer and smiled brightly. “What could be more glorious, eh?”

Wicked humor lit Oromë’s eyes. “It is not so bad,” he replied, rising to his feet and dusting himself off. “But I suppose you are right. All right. I will take myself off to bed as well. Good night, you two. Oh, and Eönwë? Mind this one’s snoring.”

“I heard the stories. Is it really that bad?”

“Think of it as hearing a dozen locomotive trains thundering over the same set of rickety lines.”

“I fucking loathe you,” Tulkas grumbled, more amused than insulted. He and Eönwë had to share the only other bedroom available, though neither minded. The room was quite large, and the beds were big enough for them, and quite comfortable.

“You say that, but deep down, you know you love me.” Oromë grinned again, then came over and clapped Tulkas on the shoulder. “Leave those dishes in the sink. I will take care of them in the morning.”

Despite the invitation to do otherwise, Tulkas and Eönwë set themselves to the task of cleaning up after themselves. It was pleasant, the homely acts of cleaning things up and putting them away. By the time they were done and looked at the antique clock on the mantle, it was close to midnight.

“Thank god we do not have to get up early for anything.” Tulkas added more logs to the fire before he headed over to the sofa. The sigh that followed when he kicked off his socks and shoes seemed to rise from the tips of his toes. “So tell me. How does it feel working for us and Mr. Súlimo?”

Having joined just six months prior as the newest recruit to the security division of Ilúvatar enterprises, Eönwë had a great deal to tell. Tulkas listened with rapt attention, his eyes on his colleague the entire time. Eönwë spoke of meeting the others and how good everyone was to him, even Mr. Ilúvatar himself. He went on to say how excited he was to finally meet Tulkas and Oromë.

“It is not every day one gets to meet the two men who brought down Melkor,” he had gone on to add. “My friends had so many questions when I told them who I would be working with.”

“Just friends?”

“My folks, too.”

“I see.” Tulkas turned away and gazed into the hearth, his face that of one who had only a casual interest in the matter. “No one else? No girlfriend… boyfriend… anyone?”

“None.” Eönwë pretended to be as composed as his companion. Deep within, however, his stomach was a roil. He had worked with Tulkas for nearly half a year. And for the chief of that time, he had pined for no one but him. No one knew, and he had no intention of ever speaking of it to anyone. Tulkas was his colleague, a soldier without peer, one who was always ready with an easy smile, and whose affections were sought after by everyone. Eönwë did not think Tulkas would ever consider him, a wet behind-the-ears recruit fresh out of the army with little to offer in return.

“Interesting.” Tulkas stood up and went back to the kitchen to brew a fresh pot of coffee. "Well, I could introduce you to a few people if you are searching for that special someone, so let me know if you need any help.”

Disappointment of the acutest kind settled in the pit of Eönwë’s belly. I could introduce you to a few people, Tulkas had said, driving home the fact he would never consider dating someone like him.

“I can manage,” Eönwë forced himself to smile, and he hoped his disappointment would not show in any shape or form. “No need to put yourself to such trouble.”

His tone made Tulkas pause. “Tis no trouble at all,” he calmly pointed out, and he returned with two steaming mugs of coffee. He gave one to Eönwë; the other he kept for himself. "Unless, of course, there really is someone else, and you do not want to speak of it.”

A flash of heat crept up Eönwë’s throat. He sipped and looked away. Tulkas grinned.

“There is someone,” he insisted, and he grinned even more. “Come on, tell me all about them.”

“There is no one.” Eönwë hoped and prayed that his tongue would not betray him. He would not be able to live it down if the others found out he had a crush on Tulkas. “I am telling you the truth.”

“Ahh, but your eyes say something else altogether.” Tulkas was relentless, like a dog with a bone. “Come on, spill the beans. I will not speak of this to a soul.”

It was Eönwë’s turn to get up and leave the sofa. “There is no one,” he declared, more than a little flustered. He drank his coffee in a few quick gulps. It was searing hot when it washed down his throat, but the shock was just what he needed to clear his head and walk away. He went to the kitchen to rinse the mug before deciding to say goodnight.

Oh god, he realized, I have to share a bedroom with him.

The next few nights were going to be long and torturous, and Eönwë struggled to prepare himself for being so close to Tulkas.  

“Eönwë,” Tulkas said, setting his mug in the coffee table before him and standing up. “You can talk to me. I will not tell anyone.”

His grin was replaced by something far kinder and warmer, something that brought new light into his startling amber eyes. It nearly made Eönwë forget himself.

“I think the time has come to say goodnight,” he replied coolly, and he turned to leave for the bedroom. If he stayed any longer, he knew he would confess his true feelings, and that was something he could not allow.

Tulkas came after him. He grabbed Eönwë by the arm and turned him around. "Look, man, I am sorry I upset you and…”

Eönwë crashed into him, and kissed him hard on the mouth. When Tulkas grabbed his arm, what meager control he had left shattered into a million little pieces. He kissed him and kissed him and kissed him, twining his arms around broad shoulders and sighing softly when the tip of a warm tongue brushed against his lips and a vise-like hold went around his waist. Then the reality of his actions struck him like a thousand tiny blades, each one as sudden and sharp as the next.

What the fuck am I doing?

He pulled away and took a step back, mortified by what he had just done. Tulkas stood where he was, his eyes wide and uncommonly dark.

“You do fancy someone,” he observed, and he took a step toward Eönwë, closing the gap between them. Eönwë would have fled in the opposite direction and leaped out of the nearest window had his feet not turned into lead. “Me.”

When he refused to answer, Tulkas cupped his chin and lifted it, forcing Eönwë to meet his gaze. “Is it me?” He stressed. “The truth now. That is all I ask of you.”

Eönwë nodded. His sense of deep humiliation only grew and grew the longer Tulkas stood there, studying him keenly and saying nothing in return. Finally, after Eönwë neared the point of wanting to scream, to cry, to do something that would break the wretched silence that had settled between them, everything about Tulkas softened: his eyes, his lips, his very posture. It was as if he had turned into a completely different man.

He said, “Do not be afraid, Eönwë, because the truth of the matter is, I rather like you too.”

“What?” Eönwë sputtered. He could not believe what he just heard.

“Why did you think Oromë invited you to spend the holidays with us?” Tulkas smiled and slipped his arms around Eönwë’s waist again. “He knew I had a crush on you. And he suspected you felt the same when he caught the way you were looking at me several times. Tyelko saw it too. You are not as subtle as you think you were, Eönwë.”

“And the invitation to spend the holidays with the three of you?”

“Part of their grand scheme to get the two of us together.”

“I thought you would never be interested in me.”

“You are wrong. So very wrong.” Tulkas looked up, and smiled like anything. “And I think I should kiss you again to show you that I am very interested in you.”

Eönwë followed his gaze. There was a sprig of mistletoe hanging on a beam high above them. He flushed at the sight of it, and when Tulkas caressed his cheek.

“Do you want me to kiss you again?” He questioned and tilted his head, his eyes still dark. “And then take you on a proper date once we get back to the city?”

How Eönwë ached to say yes! But then there was another matter to consider, one that had to be dealt with now. “What about the bedroom? I… I am not sure if I am ready for anything just yet.”

“Nothing needs to happen tonight. Or any other night. Not until you are ready. But you need to give me an answer, though.”

Eönwë could neither think nor even breathe. He was confused, and elated, and frightened all at once. Should he say yes, and see where the dice fell in the end, or should he say no, and simply walk away? He was still dithering when Tulkas kissed his jaw, his groan vibrating sweetly against his skin.

“Say yes,” Tulkas implored. “I promise you will not regret a minute of it.”

When Eönwë finally gave his answer, it was a barely audible yes, followed by a plea for another kiss.

[i-did-not-mean-to]

hi, i love your blog! Your writing is so incredibly talented and you just have such a way with words, putting out ideas into beautiful stories! So for that thank you so much! Can I please request a Caranthir x Female Reader where they are out on a romantic picnic? thank you for considering x

Hello anon,

First of all, thank you so very much. Your message has cheered me considerably tonight :)

Thus it has been my pleasure to write something for my darling Caranthir and for you, who have been so very kind to poor, old me.

Cakes and confessions

Words: 1,3 k

Warnings: insecurity

You were not entirely sure whether he would come or not; it would not have been the first time that Caranthir cancelled your plans at the last minute, after all.

“Grump is coming,” a joyous voice came from somewhere above you and you looked up to see Tyelko crouching in the tree, balancing precariously on a dangerously swaying and bending branch. “I saw him put on his best tunic and all. I might also have told the others and – if I had to guess – he is probably trying to calm down before coming here lest he scare you away with his angrily flushed mug.”

Bending down as quickly as you could, you picked up the first half-rotten fruit you could lay your hands on and hurled it at the cackling shadow, already leaping gracefully out of your line of sight. 

A muted thud informed you that you had at least hit something even if Tyelko didn’t sound much chastised or corrected by this impulsive outburst of yours.

“Idiot,” you muttered under your breath and smoothed your hands down your frock, which was much too pretty to be sitting outside by far, nervously.

Secretly, you wondered if you would ever get to a point where you felt secure in Caranthir’s affections; he was furtive and skittish by nature and his solemn mien often dissimulated how he truly felt about things.

With a heartfelt moan of frustration and impatience, you resolved that you’d have to take matters into your own hands for you cared for him deeply and suspected at the very least that your fondness might be reciprocated by this stern, often insecure, and infallibly sweet lord.

When you finally heard the low sound of his angry muttering, you thus hastened towards him eagerly but stopped – knocked dumb by his appearance – mid-step. 

His brother had indeed spoken true, and your much-cherished friend was dressed in incredible finery as if he expected to pay attendance to a high king rather than to sit in the damp grass with a lady who – surely, he was aware of that much – was utterly devoted to him already.

“Moryo!” you greeted, a little breathlessly still. “How handsome you look today.”

“Ah no,” he exclaimed and dropped the heavy basket he had been carrying unceremoniously to the ground to lift his palms to his cheeks. Somehow, he still believed that he could prevent or fight his tendency to blush beautifully by willing the blood to drain from underneath his pristine skin. “And here I was, thinking I’d look presentable for once.”

“You do,” you sighed longingly, “you always do and never more so than when gentle words paint crimson joy onto that lovely face!”

“You flatter me,” he murmured, picking his burden up once more and following you to the spot under the canopy of an old, sprawling tree that you had chosen for your picnic. “How fare you, Milady?”

“Better now that I behold you, Milord,” you replied playfully, coaxing out another wave of heat surging up like a tide of pure beauty in his stubbornly inexpressive face.

To busy his hands, Caranthir started laying out a proper feast onto an exquisitely embroidered cloth that shimmered alluringly in the flickering light that dappled the ground on which you sat.

“Oh, that is beautiful. Should you be ruining family heirlooms so callously?”

His head snapped up in surprise. “It is no such thing,” he admitted a tad sheepishly. “It is I who made it. Do not mock me now, I get enough jeering from my brothers, and tell me truthfully, does it please you? Do…I?”

You could have known; you should have known!

Extending a staying, soothing hand, you took hold of his twitching fingers and kissed the back of them reverently before swearing upon all that was hallowed and good within this realm you shared that you were delighted by both the intricate embellishments and his own beauty.

“Oh, my…” Caranthir swallowed the endearment that had been about to pass his tense lips and you baulked at this brazen theft; you yearned for the sweet words that forbidding mouth always bit apart before they could ever take flight.

With a demanding growl, you leaned towards him and pressed your lips against his to draw out the confessions he would not offer up willingly as one sucked sweet poison out of a wound.

“Milady,” he gasped, his flush severe enough by now to extend from his hairline to the collar of his tunic. How you itched to discover how far that treacherous blush trickled down, painting his chest a flaming red and making his freckles shine golden on the blazing firmament of his flesh.

“Sweetling,” you purred, tugging gently at a strand of his soft, thick hair to keep him from shying away from you when he clearly relished the caresses you doled out so shamelessly.

“Is this a cruel jest? Did Tyelko put you up to this? I thought I’d seen him come hither,” Caranthir grunted, hurt and hope making his voice sound hollow and wavering for a moment.

“Your brother got a rotten apple thrown at him for his troubles,” you admitted with a suppressed chuckle. “He should not taunt you so!”

Caranthir’s eyes – dark and stormy – turned almost black with surprise and delight upon hearing that you had indeed met his brother and had chased him away like the ill-behaved cur he insisted on impersonating time and time again.

“I…this is not what I had foreseen,” he then confessed. “I have brought your favourite sweetmeats – baked by my own cares with ‘Laurë’s help – and some wine.” He threw his hands up in unnerved confusion.

“To achieve what?” you asked teasingly. 

“I had hoped that – by the amplitude of my efforts – you’d take account of my…earnest affection for you.”

You couldn’t help but throw your head back and laugh for joy and relief; once more, you should have been aware that a meticulous, careful soul such as his would not risk its own safety and sanity without establishing a cautious, overlong plan beforehand.

“How I love you,” you giggled. “Oh, how I adore you, you stubborn mule of a Noldo.”

“You do?” he exclaimed, no longer caring for the furious blush or the fierce light in his eyes that threatened to blind you as it exceeded the blessed, demure shine of the trees themselves.

“Obviously,” you snorted and sank down to lay your own heated cheek onto his lean, strong thigh. “You may feed me the testaments of your attempted bribery now; as one devoted to you, I shall endeavour to destroy all evidence of your trespass.”

“It would be my honour,” he laughed, reaching into his basket and producing a small cake – not entirely proportional but smelling mouth-wateringly delicious – and a bottle of wine that he had almost certainly stolen from his father’s private reserve.

“You’re such a rebel,” you cackled, cupping his cheek tenderly and accepting his halting, almost shy kiss with happy forbearance. “More of this, please,” you demanded softly, pushing aside the cake momentarily to throw yourself against his broad chest and draw him into another slightly more passionate embrace.

“Tyelko is roaming around here still,” Caranthir warned against your skin, still holding both bottle and cake awkwardly up to you for you to partake in.

“May the Valar keep him,” you said with a shrug and took a bite of the truly delightful treat, making sure to let your lips give his sticky fingers the tiniest of brushes at the same time.

With a gasp, Caranthir evidently decided that you were indeed right for he let go of the bottle and curled his long fingers around the base of your neck to chase that elusive feeling of unadulterated joy bubbling – hot and bright red – from his chest throughout the rest of his body.

So, dear anon, I hope you liked this!

It's always an honour and a pleasure to write requests and this might just have been what I have needed tonight...

I am so truly thankful to you for that lovely message; it really meant the world to me...

[nailsinmywall]

maglor vs the mud angel (mayglor d5)

[tyelkormo]

honestly thinking of míriel Þerindë as being similar to fëanor personality wise (which is supported by canon in some instances) just makes everything so much better imo

[ryoalouette]

Maglor, from modern Middle Earth: out of curiosity, has anyone talked to uh, the Maia steering the moon lately? 

Thranduil, realizing what Maglor is about to ask: (well then, here’s a form of entertainment ig)

Finrod: You mean Tirion?

Maglor: Yes him, Tyelko’s ex-buddy. Did he say anything odd while up there?

Finrod: Hmmm. I dunno, we can ask?

-

Maglor: EY OSSE YA DUMP HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF YA FELLOW UP THERE IN THE SKY?

Osse: WHICH ONE YA BASTARD?

Maglor: THAT STUCK UP HUNTER

Osse: ‘SAID SOMETHING ABOUT SOME ODD METAL AND WEIRDASS MORTAL-SHAPED- POKING HIS ASS WITH SOME FLAG

Finrod: Wot??

[avantegarda]

Happy 2000! Can I ummmmm request a fic? I’d love to read some baby!Celebrimbor fluff with good dad Curufin (other Finweans welcome too) 💕

Dear friend, you requested this about a century ago, and I was so caught up in my fic for the Reverse Summer Bang that I've barely worked on this. I am so sorry.

--

Linde (daughter of a family of well-known horse breeders) and Curufin (son of a well-known inventor and sculptor), were perfectly suited to one another in nearly every way. They were brilliant, passionate craftspeople; they understood precisely when the other needed to be left alone for up to twelve hours; they even shared a habit of waking up in the middle of the night to write down ideas.

When it came to the art of childrearing, however, their differences were pronounced.

Curufin, having been raised by a man so diligent he made the Two Trees look sloppy, insisted that children thrived on regulations more than anything else. Loving but firm discipline, strict schedules. "Precisely how I was raised, and you can see how well I turned out."

At hearing this, Linde would always roll her eyes. She had been raised in the country, allowed to run wild in the fields as much as she pleased (provided the chores got done) and thought it was ridiculous that small Celebrimbor was expected to complete three hours of schooling every day, along with two hours of crafting and two hours of exercise. Especially as the boy was only five.

"It's utterly ridiculous," Curufin ranted to his father one evening, after a particularly heated discussion with his wife. "If it were up to her, the boy would be running naked around the garden all day, causing messes and terrorizing the neighborhood."

"Hm," Feanor replied, face remaining neutral.

"You kept my days organized as can be, and it seems to have turned out all right, has it not? Here I am, nearly as successful as you--why shouldn't Tyelpe do the same?"

"I kept you on a strict schedule, because you thrived on it, Curvo," Feanor said gently. "Nelyo as well. But how well do you think that worked with Makalaure and Tyelko? Oh, I tried with them at first, but I didn't have a speck of luck. Children, as it happens, are not all alike."

Curufin flushed and looked down at his feet. "I've been a stubborn ass again, haven't I."

"Quite so," Feanor replied cheerfully. "Never mind, though. I'm sure Linde will forgive you again."

---

A noticeably contrite Curufin returned home shortly after, greeting his wife and son with a kiss on the cheek apiece (Linde accepting hers rather reluctantly).

"I've just been speaking with Father," Curufin said. "He helped me see that my attitude toward young Tyelpe's schedule has been somewhat unreasonable."

Linde raised an eyebrow. "Did he now."

"Why don't we compromise? Three hours a day for education, and the rest to run about as he pleases, provided he is being safe."

"How generous of you," Linde said dryly. "Yes, my dear, I believe that is perfectly acceptable."

" And while we're on the subject of children, I think it's about time we had another," said Curufin. "A girl this time. We could call her Curufinwen..."

"Absolutely not," said Linde.

[tengwar]

Tumblr bitch: liking the silmarillion makes you a freak!

Me: *growls really hard*

Maglor: It's okay they're just jealous babe

Me: I know Maglor, I know

Celegorm: *slaps my fat juicy ass*

Me: NOT NOW TYELKO MAGLOR AND I ARE HAVING A MOMENT

Celegorm: You're so boring *kidnaps Lúthien*

Me: *sighs*

The Noldor: *doomed*

The Silmarils: *stolen*

[aipilosse]

A Fork in the Road

For @feanorianweek Day 3 - Celegorm. 500 words. Also on AO3.

Celegorm walked through the sunlit woods, realizing how long it had been since he felt alive. He had been dead for many ages, dwelling in the dark of Mandos, where all was silence and muted colors, but even before his death, he had not truly lived. He was reminded of parasites and their hosts, driven by a foreign mind to their own destruction.

He shook himself slightly. These were not thoughts for today. What had kept him in Mandos had been this very feeling — that everything after the Oath was done by a creature apart from Celegorm, a fictitious persona that allowed him to guiltlessly do deeds he thought himself incapable of before. Every drop of blood, every act of violence, every drop of whispered poison was something he chose. But the world changes, and the Valar with it, and there was more pity and mercy than the sages told.

Now Celegorm lived again, traveling through the woods he had hunted in before the first rising of the sun and moon, and it was springtime.

There was a fork in the road; both paths led to regret. To the left: a mother abandoned, her pain ignored in his vengeance and greed. To the right: an old friend, one he might have saved, her trials darker than his own. Welcome was not certain in either direction, but he had learned from long, slow, dull regrets that forgiveness was only obtained through seeking it.

He wished he had someone to talk to, someone to ask which direction he should go, but he was alone.

As he stood, torn by the choice, he heard a clear voice through the trees. It was a song of celebration, an ancient hymn to Oromë, praising Him for a successful hunt, the bounty of the wood, and the strength of the hunter’s arm.

The singer rounded the corner just behind him and stopped, the triumphant note dying in her throat. Celegorm turned.

“Írissë.” She sat on her horse, mouth open, and eyes wide. She looked so like the Írissë he had known of old that his heart ached. Her hair was still in long braids, she carried a hunter’s bow, and she still held herself like a princess. She no longer wore white, but her clothes were no more practical; instead, her dress looked like a riot of peacock feathers over riding trousers, brilliant and glimmering in the sunlight. Despite her clothing, she had been successful: a deer carcass was strapped to the back of her horse.

“Tyelko.” She dismounted and walked towards him cautiously, as if he would vanish in the wind.

Celegorm stood frozen for a moment, faced with the chance to apologize for all the ways he had failed her. The moment passed. Celegorm threw his arms open wide.

“Fairest and most fortunate cousin! Long have I languished in the Halls, but now I have returned to grace your home with my presence.”

“You absolute ass,” Írissë said, and ran into his open arms.

[thecrazyworldbuilder]

tolkienesque + communes in france + theological demons and angels + english words + animals

Aards Abbinge Abidings Abing Abund Accenta Acces Adher Admiri Afterary Agonflassek Agretch Ahtaro Aikaliant Aikea Ajaccoop Alannin Alative Alfárea Alfíri Allump Alqetter Althurt Alómi Amatéma Ambaultante Amdusion Amdustle Amiah Ampane Ampirya Anakeen Anakoff Anning Anqalme Appeaf Arthworna Asannine Aslengwe Assed Astingelisk Atton Avanima Avaray Awaken Bagne Ballone Barra Beauve Bedring Begion Berew Betweek Beyon Bloomy Boather Bobcatingle Bodien Bodingwe Bolass Bonust Bourneuron Bration Bresitick Brounta Bruarda Bègled Cagny Canna Cantuatin Capace Cation Cerbour Chasias Chele Chris Chrow Châlong Châteat Châtent Châtil Cline Closurge Colled Colognith Colous Combresson Comme Compres Comprey Compula Conflyingle Conthem Contible Cornay Corsa Courge Coverneus Crabezeth Craffencept Craftsmand Crocorsonal Croisolut Croita D'ology Danna Declicket Declivry Delle Demien Deparma Departifice Deter Dungahornon Dwelle Earwe Earyondeles Elligening Ellow Elversong Embershion Empet Emurmure Enfolle Engwetah Entain Erkass Erreux Existare Explac Extenta Faikasse Fairef Faras Farew Farmand Farmatort Fernon Filinklindo Findo Flavac Flavrosalo Fless Focall Folic Footpriel Forested Forma Forme Fourn Fowlark Fromie Fréjust Gainand Gentions Getta Glasta Goodpect Goost Goriency Gourallámin Grassoni Greek Greelzebub Grency Grigoroundu Guantle Guarret Guitemes Gullierríve Handanjou Hanufact Haution Heasuragent Hewello Hildo Himpant Hingsfoil Hispeed Holet Horment Hornon Hurta Hwangeru Hyangwe Hyannow Hyólam Hénie Hérous Hísimast Illumentale Impetition Impressieu Imputte Indingo Inqitannal Insec Inspers Instank Jaccides Jehoe Joseldar Kaimont Kainit Kalmiel Kalphom Karaigualin Karda Karna Kassière Kestemais Kinde Kingda Knolong Koritindo Kuilled Kuship Kúmah Kúvule L'islave Lamed Lancy Landult Lankalma Lastorn Lauko Laukobas Lavre Lemmine Lemna Lengwete Liagener Libouross Lihlik Lilithorn Lilitter Lintya Liévine Lovelya Lovern Lowers Lumahaima Lyonde Lyondo Lúmead Lúmiel Magpieux Makasura Malduma Mamoul Maringweter Maste Mating Mativalla Miginantell Mille Mistanko Mittle Miuya Moisthmus Mombly Montoi Montpanda Morneath Moulder Moutlanda Musiasm Míresta Nahalve Nandes Nangwe Nantelless Nastar Nauka Nelka Neltilde Nemya Nicalves Nighti Nilder Nistory Norder Normeite Norther Nortickle Nóloathym Oathangwe Occite Olarge Olickadell Onosse Ontpelke Ontras Osses Oyota Palargent Pandy Passessive Penninqe Perault Perro Petillo Plana Plarges Plarm Pletta Plumsy Plury Polar Poldfish Poliday Poplea Potala Praye Pricalor Prior Profeste Prosse Psaral Pulomin Qante Rabita Radiante Ramma Rande Ratient Raulta Ravanwa Refusional Remenya Remivorosal Repear Retur Rincept Roissed Romiel Rosany Rouge Rounderi Ruite Ríman Sablessinet Sabnocerte Sampa Sanna Sarchimya Sarinolas Saturya Sealike Sealta Seath Securien Selativet Selforta Sence Serminiasm Sermon Seround Shaddent Singis Snesse Soise Sorge Sorges Sorna Specite Speltil Spiderneux Staina Stonnes Stopic Subjectory Sungand Sunriss Surage Sweal Swombing Sworly Sworme Tasta Tatalle Tatanka Telet Tharya Therea Thight Thion Thron Tingbeetle Tiring Tomoday Tomorror Torya Toróme Touge Trading Trima Tuesdays Tupso Tured Tyambe Tyelko Tyell Tálime Uluse Undes Unive Untress Untyul Unutside Uprichy Urule Vainarboney Valarge Vannion Vannoisy Vassed Veile Vennes Villativer Villen Villie Virtured Viruster Waken Wande Warday Waries Washma Weetang Whirl Whithars Whitheory Wilótimat Wizatikse Womancienne Worme Wrignan Xaphiel Yelimartya Yelles Íriedomink Ómainen Úvima

[thepinkseat-askthemoonbunny]

Welp...I did it. I made yet ANOTHER Silm OC, and I'm not sorry about it (the silver hair/brown skin combo is my aesthetic, don't judge me).

Anyway, this is Aranmír Edlothion, also known as the Prince of Flowers in his wedding attire. I came up with the idea of him from doing a fantasy RP with a friend of mine, and my absolute obsession with enemies to lovers so...here he is! My lovely boi, I hope y'all love him as much as I do! Facts under the cut.

Name Translation:

Father-name: Aranmír- "king's jewel" (I know in Quenya it'd be spelt with a double m but I dunno if that's how Sindarin works)

Mother-name: Edlothion- "blossomer, bloomer, he who causes flowering"

He's the third and youngest child of Thingol and Melian after Luthien and Daeron (cuz I see a lot of people making Dae Luthi's brother in their headcanons and I figured "why the fuck not get in on the headcanon fun? I mean Tinfang would've been her brother too in another version")

He's a botanist and horticulturist who has a stronger relationship with plants than people. He's cultivated several varieties of flower and fruit, hence his nickname. Practically lives in his greenhouse.

Can make a shit ton of drugs, poisons, and alcohols from his plants, my guy is a walking pharmacy.

Looks sweet and nice and poised, is actually batshit feral and will fuck you up.

Horny on main but also a nerd

Will go days without sleep getting caught up in his research.

Loves his family to death and they're all really close-knit, but inferiority complex like a MOTHERFUCKER. Being in this family will do that to you, I mean he’s like an actually cheerful Caranthir.

With Thingol being the greatest of the Sindar and Melian being a literal angel, Luthien being literally the hottest thing to walk the earth (also stupidly magically powerful) and Daeron being the best singer of all time, Ara is just the “weird plant kid”.

His Maiarin magic takes the form of being able to manipulate and magically affect plant growth.

Married Celegorm to forge an alliance for peace. Basically Morgoth is a bigger threat than he is in canon and in order to defeat him, the Sindar and the Noldor have to kiss and make up...literally. Both groups would rather die than join forces but they really have no choice because the Valar are sitting on their glittery asses not helping (at least not yet)

Agreed to the match out of duty to Doriath (and also to say "hey, I'm useful guys. Be proud of me"), Thingol is pissed. "HELL NO, I'D RATHER FACE MORGOTH BY MYSELF THAN GIVE MY CHILD TO THOSE WILD DOGS!"

Luthien is ALSO pissed, especially considering what Celegorm and Curufin tried to pull with her. She is NOT happy about letting her little bro "be sold to a pit of vipers"

On their wedding day there was crying. A LOT of crying. But Ara would die for his people so he sucks it up, and also to protect his brother and sister from being selected.

Those flowers braided into Ara's hair are red anemones, symbolizing protection against evil (he's gonna need it)

To say that he and Tyelko do NOT fuck with each other would be the understatement of the century.

Tried to poison his "beloved husband" once, having a huge knowledge of plants he knows which ones are poisonous af. He was basically in cushy jail (watched like a hawk and confined to his rooms) for like the next two years after that.

Unfortunately for him, Celegorm also knows his plant stuff cuz...hunter, hello. So yeah, that didn't work. He thought it was cute, but told Ara in no uncertain terms that if he tried that shit again, he'd make his life hell.

Turning point came when they were stuck in a survival situation and forced to work together to literally not die.

It's cliche AF but they bonded a little over nature and shit..

Another cliche: It was raining, they were cold and hubby is attractive...so yeah.

Their interactions consisted of VERY sporadic friendly moments interspersed with veiled insults and hate sex. (Ara threw up their first time, feeling like a traitor to his dead kin)

Before they realized "we're stuck with each other forever, may as well try not to be miserable for the rest of eternity"

So they tried to get along and shit and discovered they had a lot of similar interests.

Curufin kinda gets jealous of their friendship because Tyelko's his fave brother (and also Ara tried to poison him)

It literally took them like 300 years to move from enemies to semi-friends.

Ara saved his husband’s life once by brewing up an antidote for a poisoned arrow wound (he didn’t poison him this time)

Celegorm comforted Ara over his grief at Luthien's death (he blamed him at first, of course) and this led to them becoming even closer.

They like to hang out together in the woods, sometimes not coming back for days.