My name is Izumi and this is where I share my overflowing amount of ideas. My current fixation is the Silmarillion, but I write other things as well. You can also find me @springfountain which is my main blog where I reblog random stuff that catches my eye.
I do not take any requests but I would love to answer your questions about my works. Remember to always be kind and respectful when interacting!
My Current Works
Blood and Shadow
“Don’t wander too far,” your mother used to tell you. “Or you may never be able to go back.”
One day, in a particularly boring math class, you fall asleep and accidentally wander too far off. When you wake up, you find yourself in the presence of Morgoth, the greatest evil in Tolkien's books. Having been a Tolkien nerd for as long as you can remember, being able to be a part of the world you so admired exictes you. But fate had other plans for you. Being summoned by Morgoth, you became what you had to in order to survive. Committing war crimes, torturing and killing innocents, leading his armies... No matter how tough things got, you always remembered your previous life, and who you were before you fell to the grasp of this tyrant.
But will it change anything? Or will your fate be the same as all other villans?
Masterpost with all the relevant links can be found here.
Love and Glass
It was like any other night. You were relaxing on your couch, watching Netflix and catching up to that show you neglected for the past few weeks. Then suddenly, you heard an alarming noise from your backyard. You took your gun and went to investigate the matter. Little did you know, at that very unassuming night, your entire life would be turned upside down.
Masterpost with all the relevant links can be found here.
Made this as a thank you gift for amazing @luciaelena 🫂❤️ Thank you so much for your PayPal donation. Your kindness and generosity is a huge help during cold months. I can't express how grateful I am to you for everything your are doing. 🥰🫂
One really heartbreaking concept that I have is that Elros, since he was going to be a Man anyways, grew up faster than Elrond. Imagşne this, they are together all through their lives, they shared a womb, their rooms, any food they ate yet they cannot share the same fate. Elros grows, he grows and he wisens and Elrond stays the small annd naive and angry, at the world at and at Elros, for leaving him alone. Only when Elros passes does he realize has never spent much time with his brother, always angry, always naive, and lives in regret of it for the rest of his eternal life.
Imagine Elros growing so fast, in mind and in body, that Elrond becomes less his twin, and more his little brother as time passes. And when they are sent to Gil-Galad, the young King of the Ñoldor's eyes look for two peredhel children, instead finding a Man with weirdly pointy ears and a merely adolecent Elf.
One really heartbreaking concept that I have is that Elros, since he was going to be a Man anyways, grew up faster than Elrond. Imagşne this, they are together all through their lives, they shared a womb, their rooms, any food they ate yet they cannot share the same fate. Elros grows, he grows and he wisens and Elrond stays the small annd naive and angry, at the world at and at Elros, for leaving him alone. Only when Elros passes does he realize has never spent much time with his brother, always angry, always naive, and lives in regret of it for the rest of his eternal life.
Tagging @grey-gazania for @easterlingsweek because I think it can be used here as well.
I think it honestly makes sense that those in Angand would wear Asian type of clothing.
Reason #1: Easterlings are never mentioned to have a specific type of clothing to themselves.
Reason #2: It makes sense that the Easterlings would adapt their Lord's clothing style as a way of showing submission.
Reason #3: Arda is supposed to be our world thousands upon thousands of years ago.
After the Fall of Morgoth, the Easterlings would find a chance to turn the Angbandinc style to their own, making it become the medium for one of the most beautiful creations of Men.
WARNING! This is NOT meant to be undermining nor shaming ANY culture. This is simply me going off of what Tolkien gave us of the Easterlings.
Due to lack of inspiration I have found myself unable to write more chapters for my two current WIPs. Although I am not abandoning my works it will still be a while until I can post new chapters again.
This lovely imagine is the work of my dear friend @animatorweirdo. I honestly love her ideas. You should check out her blog, it is full of great works.
(By the way, the general plotline is kind of the exact opposite of what I had in mind for this particular work of mine.)
I kind of tried to mimic Tolkein's way of storytelling here, but I don't know how it went. There may be some unclear or vague parts, so feel free to ask me what I tried to say there.
You can find the masterpost with all relevant links here.
You spent the next two hundred years following your awakening in the ritiul chamber of Angbad by learning about the world and your position in it.
You, who were called Naurdael the fire terror by the thralls, the head of the Melkorhini, was no more than a tool in his grand plan.
You were to know it and you were to accept it.
And know it, you did. But accept, you did not.
You trained in every weapon known in the face of Arda, and you crafted many weapons of great power in the great forges of Angband.
You apprenticed under Sauron, crafting many weapons and artifacts that would later bring terror to the hearts of all those who heard it.
Swords that were lighter than feathers yet struck heavier than Grond.
Arrows that traveled quicker than sound and pierced even the sturdiest of armors.
But among all your creations, you treasured one above all.
"Ruinëhatal" you called it in the language of the elves for you hated the way Black Speech grated against your mouth, fire spear.
Into Ruinëhatal you poured your power and your will and turned her into a weapon of unimaginable power.
Yet forgecraft alone could not raise your status in the eyes of your father.
So you kept training.
You trained yourself.
You trained in methods of torture and manipulation.
You learned of the world's history and the power of songs.
And finally, you learned how to sing songs of power in great likeness to your father, Melkor before his decline at the first battle.
But no matter how long you spent in Angband, it never became a home to you.
The halls were cold and the dungeons were cruel. Cries arose from every corner.
You learned to ignore, you learned to block out those cries.
You chose to harden your heart to protect yourself and you hated yourself for it.
But you had to survive.
There were just too many horrors in Angband.
But the worst of them all went unnoticed by the free peoples.
Orcs, as you found out, were horribly broken creatures.
Elves unbegotten they were, taken, twisted, and broken by your father shortly after their awakening.
The orc captains were the worst of them all.
Orc-captains were the worst of them all, taken away from their simple lives near Cuivienen and tortured in ways unimaginable, then broken and twisted into creatures of horrible looks and even more horrible hearts.
None of the 144 unbegotten had managed to get away from the influence of your father before it was too late.
You had 77 of the unbegotten, and unnumbered amounts of the aftercomer under your command as orcs.
Any time you reached out your mind to touch one of your captains to give them an order, you would feel their fear and see their memories.
Father had told you once that the twisted did not remember yet you knew that was untrue.
They remembered.
They remembered every single moment of their torture and they remembered every way their fëar were twisted.
It made your heart ache every time, to hear their screams, to listen to their despair.
You wished to do something, to at least be of use to these creatures whose suffering went unnoticed.
Yet you could do nothing. You had power outside yes, but you were powerless inside the fortress for there were powers way grander than what you had been given.
It was heartbreaking.
All you could do was not torture them any further
So you ignored them as well.
You ignored their screams and you ignored their cries.
You ignored them all, for better or worse, you ignored.
All that was horrible in Angband came together in you father, Melkor, and created the most terrible being in existence.
You hated him with with all your heart.
There were no words in any known language enough to fathom the depths of your hatred for him.
He would give you the cruelest of punishments for the slightest misspeak and yet he would overlook your mistakes in training.
He was so unpredictable.
And yet, why there was this smallest part in you that sought his approval and acknowledgment?
Why was it that every time he acknowledged your progress in training your heart soared?
Why did you feel so accomplished whenever he complimented your crafts?
Was this how a normal relationship between a child and their father should be like?
You tried to remember your actual father from your previous life.
You tried to picture his face and hear his voice but all you could see was the face of Melkor.
Melkor had dominated your mind and memories so much that you did not even remembered your own father.
You didn't remember how he treated you, how or if he loved you...
You didn't remember anything.
So you tried to find the memories of your mother.
You tried to see her face, hear her voice, and feel her embrace but you found none in your mind fortress.
No memories of warmth and love were left within your heart and mind for the years here had taken it all from you.
You wanted to scream and cry and beg Father to have those memories back.
But you did none for you could do none.
All you could do was stare at the black walls of your personal chambers for a long, long time until your elven servants came into your chambers in an unending line, waiting to dress you for battle.
Staring at your wall, feeling empty and void, you signed to your servants who worked in a brisk efficiency they were used to and they started preparing you for your most important test yet.
First, you bathed in the cold waters from the melted ice of the northern icelands, which were enchanted with spells of strength of body and clarity of mind.
Then, you were clothed in robes of black, woven with enchantment of warmth and coolness, for you would need both in battle.
After clothing you, your servants braided your hair in signature war braids of Angband.
Only then did your servants start fastening your black armor, which was forged by Sauron as a gift for his favorite disciple of out of the best metals ever seen.
And at last, you took your crown of black diamond thorns and blazing ruby jewels, which was the gift of your father on the eve of your first battle.
You looked at the mirror and in place of the unremarkable high school student you once were, you saw a weapon of war ready to wreak havoc upon all those who dared to oppose Father.
Y'all ever thingk about how Zuko and Azula must have had some slave child brought to the palace as a playmate for them at some point, right? And how those slave children must have been traumatized? No one? Okay, I'll go back to my dark corner now...
