#amras gets sentimental

[amrass]

It's my 1 year anniversary on Tumblr 🥳

[amrass]

Yep, a heritage post in our wonderful little speck of the fandom ☺️

Dutch come get your rat he's being feral

[arofili]

If you are still doing the dialog prompts, I would like Elrond and Caranthir for 11.

(I tweaked the prompt a bit to fit the scene I had in mind!)

~

11. “We could get in big trouble for this,” Elrond whispered to his twin. 

“We’re always in big trouble,” Elros dismissed. “Don’t you want to figure out who this place used to belong to? Atar always gets so sad when we ask, and Atya...”

He trails off, but Elrond knows what he means. He wouldn’t know what else to call their Atar, but it still feels strange to name Maedhros Atya. He’s always been the more distant of their caretakers, only recently warming enough to show his softer side, and neither of them have the courage to ask him about the castle’s former owner for fear he’ll snap back to that cold, distant person he was before.

“Okay, fine,” Elrond relented, and crouched down to let Elros climb on top of his shoulders to reach the door handle.

He turned the key they’d stolen from the chamberlain in the lock, and Elrond held his breath as he heard it click open. Elros scrambled down and together they pushed open the door, at last entering the forbidden room.

A thin layer of dust coated every surface of the room, showing it had been undisturbed for years, and yet every item it contained was neatly tucked away in a bookshelf, on a desk, beneath the bed. It was sad, empty, lonely, but most of all it was orderly, in a way neither of their father figures ever were. The room was grand, bigger even than Maglor’s bedchamber, and blazed with Fëanorian stars on every inch of embroidery: curtains, bedsheets, tidily stacked robes. Elrond hadn’t known what to expect, but this was certainly not it.

He stared, taking it all in, as Elros prowled forward. He sneezed softly as dust tickled his nose, and for some reason it struck Elrond as wrong that the layers of years had suddenly been mucked up by his footsteps. And yet, he could not undo it, nor would Elrond dare hold back his gnawing curiosity any longer.

He stepped after his brother, peeking into drawers full of papers written in a neat script he could not read. The numerals he recognized, as well as the sign marking it as currency, and he squeaked as he realized just how much money whoever lived here had dealt with on the regular.

“Elrond,” Elros hissed, “look at this!”

Elrond turned to see Elros pointing at a strange device on a high shelf, a frame fit with several rods stacked with beads. He had never seen such a thing before, and had no idea what it was supposed to be.

“Who lived here?” Elros wondered. “They must have been the lord of this place, or—or something...”

“Could it be a guest room?” Elrond said uncertainly. “Look...that’s a dwarvish hat, on that stand. I’ve only ever seen Mae—Atya’s dwarf friends wear something like that...an elf wouldn’t have it.”

Elros gasped, pulling at the sleeve of one of the long robes. “That’s the Haladin symbol!” he exclaimed, only for Elrond to shush him. “But it is,” he insisted, quieter. “I remember, Ada, I mean our first Ada, he had a shield with that on it, from his ada... It’s a mortal thing.”

“Dwarves and mortals?” Elrond said, scratching his head. “And, I couldn’t read most of it, but there was a paper with some sort of treasury account, and it was so much money. We could’ve rebuilt Naneth’s tower with all that money...”

They didn’t often speak Ada and Naneth, especially not when their new fathers were around, but the reminder of them both, in this room, stirred something within him.

“Do...do you think...” Elrond began hesitantly. “Do you think...we know Atar and Atya, we know they stole us. And if they hadn’t burned it down they could’ve stole our old home. Do you think...they stole this place? Maybe from dwarves, or mortals. Maybe we’re not the first children they’ve...kidnapped.” Maglor and Maedhros were their fathers, they were, and they loved them, but—well, Elrond knew what else they were, too, even if he didn’t like to think about it.

There was a cough from the door. Elros yelped and hid behind Elrond, who stared guiltily up at...oh no. They were in big trouble, because the adult who had caught them wasn’t Atar...it was Maedhros.

“What are you doing here?” Maedhros rumbled. His voice was so, so very low, and always sounded rough and scary, like he had some mortal illness. But he was an elf, despite the mass of scars across his body, and elves didn’t get sick like that.

“We...we...” Elrond stammered, trembling.

Maedhros sighed, and Elrond realized...he wasn’t mad. He wasn’t even that sad. He was...tired.

“You’re not in trouble,” Atya said, “though I think the chamberlain would appreciate it if you returned the key you stole.”

Meekly, Elros returned it to their father. Maedhros reached down to grasp his hand, hesitating before offering his cold golden prosthetic to Elrond. Not wanting to push their luck any more than they already had, Elrond grabbed onto it gingerly, still not all that fond of the inanimate touch.

Atya led them from the room, locking it behind him, and outside to a nearby balcony. It was a cloudy day, but a slight breeze blew from the north, running through Elrond’s hair and making him shiver. Elros clung to Atya’s hand, leaning into his warmth. Atya himself stood still, unaffected by the cold, and Elrond remembered Atar saying something about them having lived in a cold place before.

“Now,” Atya said, soft as his gravelly voice could manage, “would you like to tell me what you were doing in my brother’s room?”

Elrond exchanged a wide-eyed glance with his twin. “Your...brother?” he asked hesitantly. “That was Atar’s room? I thought...”

“No,” Atya said, looking out to the horizon, utterly still. “Not Maglor’s room.”

“You have another brother?” Elros guessed.

“No.” Atya looked down at them at last, and Elrond saw that his eyes shone with unshed tears. “I had...five others.”

“Five?” Elros gasped, as Elrond whispered, “Had?”

“You don’t know.” Atya smiled, the scar on his lip twisting his face into something that would’ve been frightening if Elrond didn’t know him well enough. “I suppose, before...they would have just called us ‘the Fëanorians.’ More than one, but not how many.”

“What were their names?” Elrond asked, before wincing as he remembered that Atar and Atya had so many names, and likely their brothers did too.

“There were seven of us.” Maedhros lifted up his hand, then sighed. “Right. I don’t have that many fingers anymore. Well, there were seven: myself, the oldest. Maglor. Celegorm. Caranthir. Curufin. Amrod. Amras.”

Something like dread made Elrond shiver. Those names...they were harsh, cruel. He thought he’d heard them before, not in the way Naneth and Ada had told him stories about their ancestors—the Haladin, Bëor’s folk, Hador’s line, Gondolin, Doriath, Lúthien—but in hushed tones, whispers of ancient evil. Like they’d spoken of the Enemy.

“Celegorm...?” Elros asked hesitantly. “Like...Celegorm who killed Naneth’s brothers?”

“He didn’t—” A shadow of pain flickered across Maedhros’ face, and Elros flinched back. But Atya did not fly into a rage, or even reprimand him. Instead he said quietly, “He did many things, but not that.”

“Will you tell us stories about them?” Elrond asked, wanting to know more about their uncles.

“Maglor is a better storyteller.”

“Atar won’t talk to us about the room,” Elros blurted out. “He gets sad.”

“The room...? Oh.” Atya grimaced. “Well. They are all dead, and he is sentimental. This castle, that room...they used to be Caranthir’s. The middlest of our brothers. He died in Doriath.”

Doriath. Dimly Elrond remembered his mother’s stories, though it was Oropher who told better tales, for he remembered those halls well. Doriath had fallen, assailed by enemies, and so Naneth had fled to the sea. He had always assumed those enemies to be orcs and other terrible things, but...Atar and Atya had burned down Sirion. Maybe they had burned down Doriath, too.

He didn’t want to dwell on that, not now. He needed to learn that other script, the other language that Atya and Atar spoke to one another, for he was sure Caranthir had been writing in it. If he could read those papers, those journals, the history of this place would unravel itself for him, he knew it.

“Did you love him?” he asked instead of some other, damning question. Because really, that was more important, if his atya had loved his brother Caranthir like he loved Atar.

“Yes,” Atya murmured. “I wish I had told him that, more, before the end.”

“I love you,” Elros offered, squeezing his thigh. “And Elrond does too.”

“Mhm,” Elrond agreed, clutching his other leg.

Atya smiled again, and this time he didn’t look nearly as scary. “I love you, too.”

[warrioreowynofrohan]

Well, with my copy of The Peoples of Middle-earth, I’ve now had a look at the alternate version of the account of Losgar (the one where Amrod is burned to death) and I have quite a few thoughts on it.

1) It removes one element that is very dear to the hearts of many people in the fandom, that of Maedhros being the only person among the Fëanorians to oppose the burning of the ships, and specifically remembering Fingon. In this version, most of the Fëanorian armies are unaware of the ship-burning until it has already happened, as Fëanor sets the ships afire in secret with the help only of Curufin and a few others. (Further confirmation of Curufin being terrible.) We do have Fëanor saying, after the burning, “Now at least I am certain that no faintheart or traitor among you will be able to take back even one ship to the succour of Fingolfin and his folk.” (See how Fëanor’s got things twisted around again - he’s describing any refusal to betray the rest of the Noldor as being treason.) It’s certainly possible to fanon that line into Fëanor being worried that Maedhros will go back to get Fingon, but that’s just fanon; there’s no textual indication towards it.

So the effect of this change is to make Maedhros stand out less from the other Fëanorians, and to make most of the Fëanorians less personally guilty of the ship-burning than in the Silm version.

2) Most of the Fëanorian armies are “dismayed” by the ship-burning when they awake to find it done, but not out of either value for the works of the Teleri or concern for the Fingolfinians. Their concerns are far more materially focused: not only would the ships have continued to be “useful for further journeying” in search of better ports further south, Fëanor hadn’t unpacked them first. He burned all their luggage! Food, clothing, tents, tools, objects of sentimental value - they’ve just lost most of it!

This is hilarious to me. I really hadn’t thought Fëanor could get more impractical than leaving behind two-thirds of his military forces when facing an enemy of great power and unknown capabilities, but that’ll show me! Fëanor can always get more impractical. I’m at a loss for words to describe how ridiculously dumb this is. So now you’re in an unfamiliar land, without backup, also without supplies, and without intelligence (either military or, apparently, otherwise), following someone who has, to all appearances, completely lost it.

Fëanor’s lucky he made it to the balrogs because seriously, this is why fragging was invented.

3) Nobody notices that Amrod is missing until the morning (even though the burning wakes them up in the middle of the night). The passage says that Amrod intended to sail the ship back to Valinor and return to Nerdanel and that Fëanor suspected this, but also that Fëanor was “dismayed” to hear that Amrod had been sleeping in the first ship he set fire to. (One would think!) Which indicates that another reason for the ship-burning was to prevent Amrod from turning back.

(My usual view is that, of the Fëanorians, only Maedhros [and of course Celebrimbor] have any chance of returning from the Halls of Mandos, because the others showed no inclination towards recognizing that their actions were wrong. But in this version I would obviously make an exception for Amrod; it’s likely that he would return to life at some point, since he was already regretting his decisions very early on and planning to act on that.)

4) This version makes it very clear, if the Oath didn’t already, that the relationship between Fëanor and his sons is deeply unhealthy. After Amras calls out his father for burning his brother to death, “no one dared speak to Fëanor again of this matter”. If your father can burn one of your brothers to death and the response of most of you is to say nothing about it - and afterwards, still stay committed to carrying out his goals - that is a downright disturbing level of control.

5) Personally, I don’t like this version as much as the one in The Silmarillion (despite my amusement at Fëanor burning all their supplies), primarily for practical reasons. (The Maedhros stuff is also a consideration, but less so for me because in my view Maedhros’ reform during the years prior to the Nirnaeth proceeds from and is the result of Fingon’s rescue, rather than due to Maedhros being a better person than his brothers from the start.)

Specifically, I simply don’t find it credible that an elf could burn to death in a boat, on the ocean, without at some point waking up and jumping in the water. And elves are incredibly hardy, so Amrod would be able to heal from even fairly severe burns if he did so. Yes, people in enclosed rooms can fall unconscious from smoke inhalation and die from burns without awakening, but he’s not in an enclosed room, he’s in a boat, on the ocean, in the open air, where there’s practically always a breeze, so the density of smoke wouldn’t be as great...and if that boat was the first one set on fire then he’d feel it before the smoke buildup became too much... It just doesn’t work for me, to think that Amrod could burn to death without either Amrod himself or anyone else noticing.

So I think I’ll stick with the Silm version as my personal canon, but this did give a lot of interesting insights into Tolkien’s ideas on Losgar, and his ideas around Fëanor’s relationship with his sons. And confirms my personal view that Silmarils > kids in Fëanor’s values, if he’s able to both 1) not openly react to the news that he’s burned one of his sons to death and 2) prevent anyone else from ever mentioning it to him.

[hissprince]

Meet the Writer Game

Game: Answer 10 questions then tag 10 writers!

Tagged by @ink-nguyen

1. Your main character is designing their dream house. What does it look like?

honestly, Elion would have a pretty small house with Saturn. he’d want somewhere cozy and comfortable, with a big garden and enough room for his horse and his pets and Amra. it’d probably somewhere in Fille, but he wouldn’t be unhappy in Apres either.

2. What is the weirdest thing that has ever inspired a WIP?

a bet with my linguistics of invented language professor that I couldn’t make an entire book’s worth of languages including dialects. it ended up becoming Coat of Scales LMAO. 

3. Which character in your current WIP is the most fun to write and why?

definitely either Elion or Janus. Elion is fun just bc he’s so genuinely enjoyable to write tbh?? like, the way he thinks is so interesting and I love being able to write the Authentic Oblivious Gay Experience. Janus is fun to write because he’s so tired of everyone’s shit and he just wants to go home and read with his husband but no he has to babysit a bunch of idiots

4. Choose an 80s song for your main character(s) theme song

probably Everybody Wants to Rule The World by Tears for Fears. it feels really right for Elion tbh.

5. The characters in your current WIP are in high school. Who gets voted “Most Popular/Most Likely to End up in Jail/Friendliest” etc?

Most Popular: Simon

Most Outspoken: Phyrra

Most Likely to End Up in Jail: Tethys

Life of the Party: Saturn

Biggest Brain: Elion

Best Dressed: Artys and Jastra. they’re too scared to pick only one.

6. Tell us a place in the world that you desperately want to visit and why.

I desperately want to visit Ireland and Scotland so I can tear up the folk music scene and jam with other folk musicians

7. What is the absolute trashiest TV show that you’ve ever watched?

I binge watched Bridezillas with a friend when we were at an anime con LMAO

8. Hollywood comes knocking, wanting to put your life story on the big screen. Who’s cast to play you? What about your nemesis/love interest?

god honestly probably Timothee Chalamet would probably play me tbh. or any similar-looking shrimpy twink-lookin nerd. as far as my love interest.......honestly my type is Large Gentle Boys so I genuinely don’t know. I don’t really have a nemesis tbh I’d kick anyone’s ass.

9. Favourite flowers and why?

roses bc my grandmother loved them, and lavender bc I grew up in the country and we have so much at my mother’s house, so I have a really strong sentimental attachment to it

10. Is there a genre that you’d love to break into in the future?

I’m pretty intent on breaking into YA fantasy! I’ve got a fairly clear path into it, and Coat of Scales fits the bill pretty well!

I tag @poetatertot @satyr-syd @skystones @cloudrecesses and any other writer friends on here! love u guys also this is vik’s writing blog so don’t panic

[ifartconfetti]

Right before the start of magic and floss' marriage ben keeping magic company, being the best best man and making sure his bud looks fresh as hell, straightening his jacket here and there and while doing so ben gets weirdly sentimental bc the last time he did something like this was when they went to prom together. Man, those surely were different times. Who would have thought he would ever stand here one day. Magic notices bens attention drifts off and magic cocks his head to the side and smiles gently wondering whats going on in bens pretty head. "Ben?" Thats when re-focusses again, finishes his task and shows hes done with a gentle pap of appreciation, but he lingers. Its stupid. Getting sentimental over something like that. Magic grabs his face and strokes it with his thumbs and bumps foreheads and mumbles something along the lines of "fuck im so nervous you have no idea, dont you get all weird on me too that makes me even more nervous" and gives him a little kiss. And ben decides - fuck it, its his best friends wedding, hes allowed to be a sentimental piece of shit. And embraces magic in a hug that can only be described as 'if ben had the physical strength it would be spine crushing but he doesnt so he just does his best'. Magic stumbles a step back but returns the gesture and laughs because "you just spent 15 minutes getting me absolutely wrinkle free just to ruin it again you doofus" and "watch the hair, this took all morning and theres an atomic amount of hair spray in there". Theres gotta be gentle back rubs. Theres a chance they dont stop being touchy feely until amra makes her presence clear with clearing her throat to gently shoo ben away to do his job, he has places to be. Best man things to do.

[amrass]

Fandom rant

I don't do one of these too often! But I needed to let off some steam. Things get a bit dark in here, so be warned, though it ends positively? I think? Lol, if you want to see someone work through anger through messy and abstract writing, this can be an example.

Sometimes I get so disillusioned by fandom I wonder why I'm sharing my stories as a hobby. I enjoy writing, but staying in fandom ...

It's the way the insecurity of our time has leaked into people, making it into a competitive space rather than a community, with people screaming over each other with moral posturing, while please like me, please praise me, please look at me hum in the background for anyone with sharpened ears. It's so grating. It exists in me as well, and I want it the fuck out, because it's so destructive for creativity and kindness. There's this distinct feeling of worthlessness that sucks everyone else in it like some sort of demonic soul drain. Lol

I think it's time for me not to stop writing fanfiction, but to stop sharing it, little by little. Make sure it isn't sudden like a knife coming down, but a deliberate and slow withdrawal from fandom. Really slow. I'll finish up a few projects, warn readers - not vengefully but honestly, say kindly farewell and thank readers for the interest, then leave. It's also to make it easier for myself because I'm going to miss the positive experiences a lot. I've met some cool people, with who I hope contact remains. I've gotten so much nice feedback on my fics, I'm incredibly lucky, but even in some comments (the ones that praise my work by putting other fans down) our dark times exist.

This isn't a reaction to any individual problem or person, it's just frustration that the one place I thought freaks could come and gather at (fandom), is so full of the shit from outside, even people who think they're doing good are so full of it. Insecurity (which is just the same as false confidence, which there's also a lot of) is so rampant right now, and seeing as it's a root of so much evil, it's extra tiring seeing this kind of evil in supposed allies.

At least it does put a finger on the points where the left has failed, allowing for the rise of the fascism. One can't escape the language of our time, unless one seeks out material from other times, which few will ever do. Not because of stupidity, but because they don't have time. Plus, with the added threat by AI, which I don't think anyone's going to stop using anytime soon, I feel even more disillusioned. Even if I know my writing skills are decent, artistic skills are likely to grow truly worthless, because the recipients will not have the attention span nor the interest in seeking out challenges. The flattening of culture happens here, too. There's no escape from it.

It's weird doing these kinds of rants, because usually there is an emotional outburst, and then one goes back to doing exactly what one was doing before lol. I am ranting, but I am also trying to cement my decision: to leave, slowly, without anger or bitterness. This is me letting out some of the anger and the bitterness, I suppose.

Some of it is existential, too: due to both personal matters and the rising tensions/prices/hate in the world, I don't think I'll live that long. Again, this is not a threat at all, but just ... ah, it's too personal, I'm sorry, but please don't worry: an early death is just something I have to take into consideration more so than some. It underlines how I need to ask myself if sharing fanfics takes more than it gives. I think I'd rather be actively creating with friends.

I'm reading over this now and realizing that this is honestly a pretty alright metaphor for climate change lol!!! Like, I thought I found a space "away from it all", some sort of oasis, but even in the middle of the desert climate change will prevail. It was silly of me to think of fandom as a space untouched by the outside world, but when I was 12-16 and hung out discussing Teen Titans & Hetalia fanfics and fanart with online friends, it truly felt like that because my home life was so ... different, to say the least. I guess I was chasing that feeling, no doubt warped by nostalgia, and am sad I can't find it again.

Hm. Maybe I should delete this, maybe not. Thanks for reading.

I might need to get out of here little by little. I guess people leave all the time without big fancy blocks of texts like mine, but ah, if some of it resonates, it can be worth it. 🖤

[amrass]

Just wanted to say your fics are so unique and I always really look forward to them! Thank you so much for sharing your work with the fandom, you capture the characters so well and your stories are always a blast

Have a fantastic night! 💕

Thank you so much! Hopefully I will continue blasting for quite some time, putting the evil cowboys through their own unique little hells. I've had fun in the RDR fandom, the Micah fandom particularly so, and I am grateful for the continuously kind feedback I receive.

This was sent in the early morning for me, and was such a nice thing to get on a cold, rainy Sunday, even if I do enjoy rain (it means it's movie time!). I hope your Sunday is fantastic, too 💕

[amrass]

Ah... I think you are so based, so powerful, so skilled, so talented, and so based. Thank you for being my friend,,, 🥹

🥹😈 / devil crying happy tears / my reaction at getting your message

Thank YOU for being my friend, and for being all those things yourself! And also for sending such a nice message. I'm so glad I wrote The Devils and met you through it, when I chat with you, see your art and writing, and frequent the digital spaces and friendships you have instigated. You're one of the real ones, bringing meaningfulness to many.

[amrass]

UHH.. UHHH… I don’t know what to say that I haven’t already said before.

You inspire me greatly and everything you make comes out Immaculately. I am reassured I will never run out of good writing because you have a catalog of a fuuuuuck ton of ao3 fics with meaty chapter numbers for me to catch up on.

Aw thank you so much! ☺️ I think I have an idea who this is, and you inspire me in turn. I shall strive for immaculateness! And make quite a few errors along the way. Thanks for being here through that, and of what hopefully will be a ton more stories! No hurry with reading them, they'll be there waiting. I feel extremely lucky having kind readers and friends interested in checking them out.