Hello, Iām dilettantefeminist or DF for short (she/her). Iām a writer (mainly of romantic comedy starring Tolkien elves) and a reader of all sorts of things. My AO3 is here.
Things I write about: Elrond (especially celrond), CĆrdan, my modern au, and OCs. Most of my work is explicit, but occasionally I write a nice little story in canon that is not.
Things that make me happy: brainstorming plot, reblogging writersā work I enjoy, beta reading (including and ESPECIALLY explicit things), and of course writing. Like all writers, I would be thrilled if you wanted to tell me you liked something I wrote IN ANY WAY (kudos, comments, DMs, ask box...).
Iām an elf person but not a silm writer, Iām a book person but not a lore master. Iām an explicit writer but I usually feel the need to have a lot of plot thrown in there. I occupy a weird little corner of LOTR fandom, and I am lucky to have been adopted by a few very nice mutuals. Trying to impress them keeps me motivated.
I donāt ever have as much time to write as Iād like because of the stage of life Iām in (intense job, married, kid, elderly parent), but I enjoy connecting here. If I seem overly sincere itās because I am old and genuinely think that the meaning of life is to connect. I donāt often get bothered by peopleās interpretations or opinions. I have plenty of ungenerous thoughts but my goal is that you wonāt see them here (at least not too often).
3 pieces of advice that I tell myself on a regular basis:
If you're concerned that not enough folks are interacting with your art, first think about how (or IF) you are interacting with others' art.
You are not for everyone because you have a unique voice and interests. If you are lucky a few people will love what YOU bring. Only a very few of them will tell you this. Sorry! Try to enjoy making the art if you can because that is the only thing that you are guaranteed to get out of making art
Personally, my enjoyment of being on tumblr hinges on my enthusiasm for others' work, my willingness to interact, and my assumption that others are acting (most of the time) in good faith. If I find any of these flagging (AS THEY DO), or if I start feeling a certain way, I disengage for a bit and go touch grass.
I've not had time to pull together anything of my own for @tolkiengenweek so I thought I would tip a hat to some of my favorite fics by others. Here are some of my top pics.
On the Nature of Fire and What Lets the Light Pass Through by @rosemary-andtime. Fantastic Gandalf and Pippin fics that give Pippin the depth he deserves.
The fire's toll by @arrivisting. Heartbreaking and gorgeous Nerdanel and Amrod, after he Returns. A perpetual fave.
Golden Light by @cycas. A delightfully complex Fingolfin and Hador, through the years.
angels would not condescend by @crownlessliestheking. In which Feanor's heresies start with math.
One Who Holds by Adlanth. A young Elrond has an exchange with Lorgan's granddaughter, as the end of Beleriand draws near.
Heart and Head by @cycas. Celegorm and Nimloth get to know each other after being reborn.
Idylls of the Queen by Anna_Wing. Spectacularly creative exploration of Gondor and environs in the time of Arwen (and Aragorn), post LOTR. So many goodies in this series!
Abiding His Time by @from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras. Gwindor survives, in Angband.
The Dance by @perchingpasserine. Elwing and Nimloth, after everything.
slip the surly bonds of earth by @hobbitwrangler. Gandalf and Finduilas of Dol Amroth and some might-have-beens.
Little Crab on the Big Stage by @thescrapwitch. My favorite of this delightful series in which Aman comes to terms with Crablor, and vice versa.
I do think the right way to think about the Mirror of Galadriel is that itās the equivalent of an entirely home-built computer tower, with chips that are only barely legal for civilians to buy and wires that look like a ratās nest but are actually hyperoptimized for efficiency, and a homemade OS in a coding language she invented, and cybersecurity that would make the CIA cry, and also some judiciously applied superglue and/or gorilla tape, made in their home office by someone who helped invent the internet at DARPA in the 60s.
And that a Palantir is, comparatively, a MacBook Air.
Quick sketch of Hermes, messenger of the gods, and some carrier pigeons. Inspired by this wonderful post by @vdoes and a conversation with some lovely friends about Hermes naturally being associated with pigeons because they are carriers of messages! Hermes is one of my faves AND I love pigeons very much.
Another excerpt from my WIP 'Gil-galad rebirth in Valinor/malicious compliance with son-of-plothole' fic from after CelebrĆan has arrived in Valinor and is struggling having left those she loves most behind in Middle Earth. Luckily her husband's dearest friend is there too, and that makes them ... something.
Also for Tolkien Disability Pride as CelebrĆan is in the throes of PTSD.
Third Age 2510 - Tirion - In the House of Finrod and Amariƫ
CelebrĆan once again screamed herself awake. She lay there for a moment, breathing rapidly, in an unfamiliar bed, in the unfamiliar room of an unfamiliar house surrounded by unfamiliar Elves. She regretted leaving her family in Middle Earth.
She heard rapid footsteps approaching, and one of the few familiar faces appeared in the open doorway. He slid to a halt, unbound hair swinging. He hesitated at the door.
CelebrĆan sat up, and found her voice.
"You may come in, please."
He stepped inside.
"Should I shut the door?"
He was trying so hard to be gentle with her. She felt a rush of affection, a reminder of why her husband loved this Elf so dearly.
"Please do," she replied. "I am comfortable with you, please do not think that you could frighten me."
Gil-galad did as she asked, and crossed the room and sat on the edge of her bed, taking her hand.
"I would ask if you are alright, but I know you are not," he said softly. "So instead I will ask if there is anything I can do to help."
His kindness made her begin to cry. Again. She was so sick of crying. So sick of the tempest of emotions that roiled within her. She had fought the orcs every day of her captivity. Even disarmed, she had bitten and scratched, punched and kicked. She had not got a chance at their necks, but remembering tales of her uncle Finrod she had killed one by ripping open an artery with her teeth. She had guessed correctly that Orcish arteries were in the same places as Elvish ones, and she knew where those were from centuries of listening to Elrond gush about his beloved craft. She had fought the orcs every day. As soon as she was returned to her family however, the fight drained from her and this horrible despair began.
Gil-galad scooted closer.
"May I hold you?"
CelebrĆan nodded, and he pulled her into an embrace. She clung to his tunic and sobbed. She missed Elrond. Her children. Her parents. Imladris. LothlĆ³rien.
She missed not having the memories of orcish hands on her body. Tearing into her flesh. Torturing her. Violating her. She missed not hearing their laughter in her ears, and having their scent in her nose. The taste of their blood in her mouth, as vindicating as it wasā¦
His embrace reminded her of being held by her father. Gil-galad was a tall and broad Elf, and it made her feel small again, in a comforting way.
She still never felt truly safe, even here in Valinor. But she did feel considerably safer in his arms.
She would rather be in Elrond's arms. Or those of her parents. Her children. But she had made her choice.
Gil-galad was not a bad alternative.
She had never been as close to him as Elrond was, but the bond between her husband and the King was deep indeed, forged through millennia of trials. She knew Elrond would trust Gil-galad with his life, and with the lives of all he held dear.
That was good enough for her.
"Would you stay with me? I keep dreaming of the orcs, and waking alone makes it worse."
"If that would help you, of course I will."
CelebrĆan nodded and pulled him down onto the bed. She was too tired to remain upright any longer but did not want to leave his embrace.
He made a somewhat surprised noise, but repositioned himself with ease and pulled the blankets over them both.
CelebrĆan had feared this might be awkward, but it was not. She felt safe, she felt comfortable, and lightly brushing against his fĆ«a, he felt comfortable as well.
It was very different from being held by her husband. Gil-galad was significantly larger than Elrond, and being held by him was comforting in a different way. Curled protectively around her, he dwarfed her in a way Elrond did not. His arms were holding her loosely, but she could feel the great strength within them. He was softer too, and warmer. Peredhel that he was, Elrond's skin was always cool to her touch, unless he was sick. Their children were warmer, but still less so than full Elves.
She missed them all so much.
But.
She felt soothed. His breath and heartbeat were a steadfast rhythm. She could let down her guard, she was safe.
CelebrĆan let her eyes unfocus, and her mind drift. She missed her family, and she missed her home, but this could be enough.
She desperately wanted to heal.
She was feeling safe enough to sleep, and felt herself beginning to drift off.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
CelebrĆan woke in an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar room of an unfamiliar house, surrounded very protectively by a familiar Elf. As unfamiliar as it was to wake up in the arms of anyone but her husband, this was nice.
"Good morning," he said softly. "Did you sleep well?"
She rolled to face him, and he pulled his arms back a little, adjusting to accommodate her. She missed the closeness immediately.
"I did, thanks to you. I do not think I have slept this well since arriving in Valinor."
"Then I am glad I can be here for you, when Elrond cannot. I am honoured that you feel safe with me."
"I know you are honourable," she said softly, and quirked a little smile, "and thoroughly uninterested."
Gil-galad smiled as well "Indeed. To the detriment of my bloodline. Almost to the detriment of Elrond if he had not so skilfully dodged the crown after my death."
"He never would have accepted it."
"I know. It is the one failure of mine I feel no remorse for. To both wilfully break my bloodline and then choose an heir of my cousin who I knew would never continue the line of kings."
CelebrĆan giggled a little, and it struck her how long it had been since she laughed. She suddenly felt glad to be alive.
What an odd reason for that.
Gil-galad was smiling at her, and brushed a silver curl behind her ear.
"Whatever I can do to help you," he said softly, "I will. You have been strong for so long, it must be exhausting."
CelebrĆan wasn't quite sure what to say to that. He was right though. She was so, so tired of having to be this strong. Fighting every day.
"I have found healing here in Valinor under the care of kind Elves." He continued, "I hope for the same for you in time."
"You said that you chose rebirth when you left Mandos. Tell me of it?"
He smiled, and she could see his gaze become distant in memory.
"It was exactly what I needed," he said fondly. "It was the first time I had ever truly been free. Free of the crown, and free of the expectations and danger that came with it long before it was ever placed on my head."
CelebrĆan knew a little of that herself, born to her parents and growing up in LothlĆ³rien. She could not imagine the intensity of scrutiny Gil-galad had faced, scion of kings that he was.
Gil-galad rolled onto his back, and let an arm stretch out, like he was basking in the sun of a remembered meadow.
"I played in the forest, in the stream. I watched insects crawl and birds hop. I sang and I danced. I had safety and no concerns or responsibilities.
CelebrĆan found his other hand under the sheets and squeezed it. He turned his head and smiled at her.
"It was what I needed. I did not remember much at first. I just felt - compelled, to savour life. To savour the freedom. To savour every carefree moment. And I did. Even if I couldn't remember it, I felt the stress from my life in Middle Earth unspooling around me. It was exhilarating. I have never been so happy."
"I am so glad you had that. And Amathorn found you? He came to Imladris after you died, and stayed until our children were grown. We knew he had been feeling drawn to Valinor, to you, for quite a long time before he actually left."
"Yes. It was a gift, to have him beside me in childhood again. I have never found the right word for precisely who he is to me, but it was good to grow up in his love once more."
"We do not always have words for our relationships, but all our words for love stem from the same root."
Gil-galad grinned at her. "We will have to go through Finrod's library today and see what he has that you have not yet read on your beloved topic of philology. It is quite exciting to have millennia of writings preserved here in Aman that are new to those of us coming from Middle Earth."
CelebrĆan could tell why he got on so well with Elrond.
Third Age 3020 - News has come that Elrond and Galadriel are planning to sail.
"Well, I'm sure you're looking forward to trading me out for your actual husband soon," Gil-galad told her over breakfast.
CelebrĆan blinked at him.
"Who said anything about trading you out?"
Gil-galad raised an eyebrow.
"I mean, as long as you are comfortable with it, I see no reason to change our arrangement." She continued, "I know you've slept in close proximity with Elrond before. He told me about how you used to fret about his Peredhel constitution on cold nights in military campaigns and you would push your bedrolls together and wrap around him to keep him warm."
The tips of Gil-galad's ears started to blush, and CelebrĆan had to hide her smile. "Cute" was not often a word that could be ascribed to a High King of the Noldor.
"We did, and it was... keeping him warm was a nice lull in the harsh reality of war. It also mutually assured we would rest, holding us both accountable for not pushing ourselves too far."
"Well, assuming your comfort with him has not changed, I do not see why the three of us cannot share a bed. Whenever you want."
"Won't you- surely you will want some time alone together?"
"When I knew you in Arda, well, I did not really know you all that well. It was Elrond who you were fƫa bonded melotorni with. Now that you and I have been close for some five hundred years, I believe you will fit into our lives just fine."
"That is not what I mean. I mean that you haven't seen your husband in five hundred years. Surely you will want to be... amorous."
"Oh! Well, we are adults and can be aware of when and where we are affectionate past what you would want to witness. But the time of children is well past us. Truthfully Elrond's desire faded before mine did, he would have been content to stop after we had the twins. He was always enthusiastic to use his vast knowledge of anatomy to use pleasure me when I initiated, but his own drive had decreased and his mind had already turned to other things. I learned I had to jump him between academic hyperfixations. Otherwise his attention was quite split, still mulling over his latest problem and then he would feel bad for not being fully attentive." CelebrĆan caught the look in his eyes. "And you are quite uncomfortable with this level of detail, my apologies."
"It's fine," Gil-galad's voice had jumped an octave from his usual baritone.
"The point is," she continued, "I'm not trading you for Elrond. My relationship with you is different from my relationship with him, but my guess is that we will both be wanting to smother him in affection and care after, if even a fraction of the rumours are true, further trauma and wear on his fƫa. I do not see any reason for this not to be a group project."
Gil-galad blinked slowly, and seemed to be processing the thought.
"I would like to remain a significant part of both your lives. I do not want our relationship to change because Elrond has returned, and I am glad to well, not be cast aside, I suppose, now that you have a better option."
"My dear Ereinion, if I did not know that there was a deep childhood fear of abandonment that you harbour, I would be offended," she teased. I am no more likely to cast you aside than Amathorn is, and we know that Elf will literally follow you off the ends of the Earth, now dragging his cosmopolitan husband out into the wilds with him."
Gil-galad nodded, smiling a little shyly, and raised his cup. CelebrĆan waited until she was sure he had the maximum amount of hot tea in his mouth.
"And besides," she said sweetly, "I cannot wait to tell my mother that you've been sleeping with me."
Watching a High King of the Noldor sputter and choke on tea did not get old.
The fic will eventually be part of this series if you'd like to subscribe to it now so you get an email when I finally start posting it!
On a whim I attended a 3 day course on bookbinding in early 2025 and am still haven by so much fun with it. Since I just finished my first 1 kg pot of glue (well... kind of "finished it"... a 3-week heatwave turned the remaining 10% into an near immovable goo thus finishing it for me) I thought it would be nice to do a little round up of the story so far.
I didn't snatch photos of all notebooks before giving them away but I still like the look of the overall collection ^_^
Not sure if starting my second pot of glue with my first ever spine rounding is such a good idea should it go horribly working. But still very excited for when I manage to stock up and continue!
HEāS HERE!!! The *incredibly* talented and generous @southaway made me a PAPERCRAFT HĆMA!!! And he is PERFECTION!
I wish my photography skills were better so that you could all appreciate him in the absolute fullness of his glory ā the details, the textures, all the little intricate cuts, the cool patterns! And the expression on his face is so put-upon HĆ”ma!
There is a little shelf by the door of my office, and I am going to set him there in a place of honor to be my own personal doorward and remind me of the strength of my fellow public servants who are just trying to do their damn jobs in a government gone mad.
MASSIVE and FOREVER thank you to southaway, who is currently offering commissions for other lovely art that you should all check out! ā„ļøā„ļøā„ļøā„ļø
Digital de-aging is bad not just because it always looks creepy as fuck no matter how much money they pour into it, but because it deprives me of getting to see the fucking black magic of a) the casting director somehow finding someone who looks unnervingly like the original actor despite not being related at all and b) the actors completely convincing me that they are, in fact, the same person at different times in their life.
A scene from chapter twelve of @scary-grace's fic, Kairos!
Every day. Every day between that day and the last one, he saw her. He never thought to live without her, and now he is, and even that last morning when they were tired and worried and not terrified yet, he was happier than he has been since she died. He thinks. Maybe. Sometimes he catches flashes of it ā a different kind of happiness than before ā but itās likely his imagination. Being alive feels much less like a chore than it did at first, but that does not mean he still doesnāt wish ā You donāt have to wish that, Rirosseth says. I donāt want you to wish that. Thranduil rolls over onto his back and stairs at the ceiling once more. His hair is stuck to his shoulders, to the side of his neck, and he peels it away. The air is so hot, and so still. Would it be too much to ask for a breeze?
Uncontested number one Barduil fic for me, in no small part due to my personal connection to its setting. We've had a few miserably hot & stagnant days up here in Kairosland, and for the past couple of years our summers have made me think of the earlier parts of this fic, which take place in summer, so I figured if I have to suffer I may as well draw Thranduil suffering similarly. I've been messing with a new brush and really liking it so far, might retire the old one after TRSB...
If any had asked of him, in that other life ere the Burning, which were those things that formed his life, the answer would have been quick and certain: his fatherās guidance or his motherās wisdom, his sisterās wry warmth, the solemnity of the gathered elders.
And it was true, of course. These had been his mainstays for as long as he could recall and there was no balm for the ache of their absence.
But as Beren lay hidden within the gorse, looking out over Ladros that was, he found his ears strained rather for the sound of Emeldirās hammer, undoing as it had each spring the winterās toll on the Hall, or for his fatherās quiet humming as he pruned the garden herbs, rubbed down the newborn lambs with straw.
Sleepless on the scorched heath, it Andrethās voice that he sought, weathered as those fingers which in childhood had traced slow patterns along his hands, both soothing him into slumber.
Hirilās shriek of laughter called to him from the icy springs when he drank. The little river beside the fell had held a similar chill and he would haul her after him whenever they fought, where any squabble would eventually wind its way to laughter within its waters.
Where was the bellow of his uncleās voice? The bickering of his cousins?
No hammer could undo this toll, nor any song coax the thyme and hyssop from the soil or draw the bleating lambs back from the ashes. The chatter of the stream was choked, the water fouled as all the valley below him. His uncle was dead and burned. The cairn above his cousinsā broken bodies was raised by his own hands.
Bitter was this learning and bitter still the admission: it had been the unnoticed things his heart could not do without, the lost mundane that tangled grief within his breast.
it might seem like the zipper merge is hopelessly dependent on the goodwill of the driver- after all, if you can't trust anyone else to merge correctly then doing the right thing will get you stuck for ages. but you need to adjust the payoff matrix to account for me. you assume that denying the zipper is without cost, because you assume that if you act decisively your fellow drivers will be cowed. but i have faith, and i have justice. i do not fear death because martyrs do not truly die, and i will GLADLY use MY CAR and MY OWN FRAGILE BODY as a SINGLE INSTRUMENT of that faith and that justice, a HOLY SWORD. I WILL KILL YOU. I WILL KILL BOTH OF US AND ONLY YOU WILL DIE
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