(laughs as one gay)

tolkien sideblog 🔞 | tombombadildo on ao3 | arwen fujo truther & glorfindel enjoyer

[tolkien-feels]

Shoutout to the surprisingly canonical Thingol/Melian high summer dates

[quixoticanarchy]

i've seen lots of depictions of post-thangorodrim maedhros whose very striking eyes convey his spirit burning like a white fire, etc, which i'm quite fond of as an aesthetic but on rereading the silm i just noticed (as always) another line i'd never made the connection with before, which is this:

and although the resemblance might be lost on most of the elves, who knew melkor in his fair form or not at all, i do like the idea of maedhros reflecting something of melkor's own appearance in the process of his 'returning from the dead' & fashioning of himself as a weapon... and if i was an orc and this guy i'm fighting looks at me with the eyes of melkor, my tyrannical god-master, i would also flee before his face

[quixoticanarchy]

and actually, speaking of characters who are described with particularly intense light in their eyes, ilúvatar is another one (the chord with which he ends the discord of the music being described as "piercing as the light of the eye of Ilúvatar"). something something maedhros coming back from his ordeal with a little bit of imperishable flame animating (consuming?) his spirit... or well, perishable flame in his case, one might say

[sesamenom]

ulmo appears to tuor

fascinating how the silm implies ulmo's gender is Ocean

(p. 32 Silm) - fanar are formed in accordance to "temper" (gender expression)

(p. 37 Silm) - Ulmo's preferred form is the ocean/a giant wave

And the wave came towards him, and upon it lay a mist of shadow. Then suddenly as it drew near it curled, and broke, and rushed forward in long arms of foam; but where it had broken there stood dark against the rising storm a living shape of great height and majesty. Then Tuor bowed in reverence, for it seemed to him that he beheld a mighty king. A tall crown he wore like silver, from which his long hair fell down as foam glimmering in the dusk; and as he cast back the grey mantle that hung about him like a mist, behold! he was clad in a gleaming coat, close-fitted as the mail of a mighty fish, and in a kirtle of deep green that flashed and flickered with sea-fire as he strode slowly towards the land.

(p. 164 TFoG) - description of Ulmo's elusive humanoid fana, as well as his approaching wave form

[misswhalie]

Ecthelion | Lord of the Fountains

[misswhalie]

Goblin Slayer | Ecthelion of the FountaIn

[misswhalie]

Favor; A token that means, “I am with you wherever you go.”

Ecthelion | The gates of Gondolin

[subliminamilly]

Ecthelion meeting Elrond in the Undying Lands, learning he is the son of Eärendil, and instinctively patting him on the head like he used to his father

[subliminamilly]

Meanwhile Elrond just looks at Glorfindel and is like… “so his is the name your heart has never lain aside?”

And Glorfindel is twirling his hair and blushing like “nooooo omg shut upppppp”

[xueyangapologist]

[catilinas]

whisking several orodrethggs into a beautiful and proteinous omeletdreth

[unification]

*torturing you* dude trust me, something really cool happens. you just have to reflect on it for a bit. i'm doing this because i want you to reach your full potential okay?

[chephalopods]

Fingon studies because I'm feeling bigly about him

[chephalopods]

Um um um Glorfindel

[faustandfurious]

This brought to you by me greatly misremembering the description of Elrond from The Hobbit and having an intrusive thought halfway through:

He was as noble and as fair in face as an elf lord, as strong as a warrior, as wise as a wizard, as venerable as a king of dwarves, as kind as summer, and old as balls

[noldclante]

I added a post first age version!

(here is the original post)

I like to think that Maglor's hair went white-streaked (inspired by Gwindor). Centuries of grief, guilt & loneliness have worn Maglor down to a shadow of his former self 😔

[gemsoflasgalen]

curufin has better things to do than pose for picture day. he has a son to raise. baby tyelpe decided that he also has better things to do, like seeing if his father’s hair is good leverage for climbing (spoiler: it’s not)

see the rest of fëanorian picture day portraits

speedpaint below | support me on kofi!!

[balrogballs]

SWIP Sunday

Thank you so much @ffigwit and @thorinsmajesticbraids for the tag! Enjoy a ‘amusing portion of a depressing moment’ from the Prayers!AU finale. Context: in this fic, Comrade Maedhros has spent ten years as a ghost literally haunting the cliff-house and the narrative, except only Celebrimbor, whose POV the fic is in, can actually see him… tagging @slashmarks @mircallaruthven @melians-griddle @nycterisg @isilme-among-the-stars @justdrowthings if you’re down! Content note for Comrade being characteristically blasé about his own suicide.

“The reason you will make a dogshit politician, Celebrimbor,” declared Maedhros. “Is because you once put your hand on my back.”

I snorted, understandably confused. “Because I’m politically affiliated with you? Is that so bad? Uncle, you spent ninety percent of your actual life insisting that you were such a remarkable, gold-standard Communist that when you died, Marx would personally come to your heavenly door with a plateful of biryani and suck your dick amidst the stars, the perfection of your political steadfastness having spurred him to create a cocksucking based rewards system for revolutionary praxis. What’s with the sudden inferiority complex?”

“That was the old Comrade Maedhros.”

“Is that so? In my recollection, you’ve also spent your decade of ghosthood muttering the words spectre of communism to yourself once every few days, then giggling like a schoolgirl. You literally cried with laughter over it last week. I saw you.”

“Yes, boy, I forgot that in your constituency, men are not allowed to have hobbies such as entertaining themselves with wordplay and being brought to tears by pure poetry. In my day, when I was depressed about the state of the nation during working hours, I would just jerk off in the office toilets, or do the extra-difficult Manorama crossword puzzles, sometimes both at once—“

“Ente Krishna! Did I fucking ask?”

“—but alas, I am barred such earthly delights on this plane of existence, yet am still just as depressed because my country still fucking sucks. Did you know, these days I know the answers to every crossword puzzle before it’s even published? Even the bimonthly literary one. It’s like they want me to fucking kill myself again,” he said gloomily, before glaring at me again. “Anyway, shut it, I didn’t mean political affiliation. I meant the time you put your hand on my back to help me walk, and gave me your pair of dogshit American sunglasses to boot. On one of the worst days of my life. That was when I realised you would be a dogshit politician, and that this country would kill you and hang you out to dry like Maglor’s boxers on a housewife’s washing line, no matter how much you’ve trained yourself to say Ente Krishna instead of Haye Allah in public. And that your cocksucker of a father Curufin was probably right to take a knife to Celegorm when he made you walk beside me in the procession, characteristically unsuccessful as he’d been at the task.”

Ah. That day.

[balrogballs]

LEGOLAS & ARAGORN

discovered embroidery brush and, true to character, went overboard with it. a little practice in my illustration style, enjoy a trashy novel cover, either BL or buddy-cop depending on your interpretation, featuring the most annoying duo to ever exist. i know the elves of imladris wanted to lock them in a room and throw away the key, i know it!

commission balls