𓃗
No title available
sheepfilms
Keni
No title available
$LAYYYTER
PUT YOUR BEARD IN MY MOUTH
Jar Jar Binks Fan Club
Sweet Seals For You, Always
TMBGareOK. The Official They Might Be Giants tumblr
ellievsbear
d e v o n
🩵 avery cochrane 🩵
oozey mess
Mike Driver
Sade Olutola
Claire Keane
The Bright Sessions
Origami Around
The Bowery Presents
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Philippines
seen from Chile
seen from United States
seen from Bangladesh
seen from Malaysia
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Colombia
seen from United States
seen from Ukraine
seen from Spain
seen from United States
seen from Canada
seen from Colombia
seen from Italy
seen from South Korea
@ngolofinwe-blog
We’re creating a masterlist of all Tolkien roleplay blogs. And when we say all, we mean ALL. That’s the goal. So long as you are an independent Tolkien RP blog, you’ll be added. OCs included!
To be added to the list, REBLOG this post!
Follow the blog for promos and resources.
sarafinwe:
x
"Atar!" Turukáno protested angrily, standing from his chair so quickly that its legs clattered on the wooden floor. His hands flattened themselves on the table, fingers widespread. His own expression was turned to Ñolofinwë, dark with anger but not at him - rather, it was anger in the circumstances of the times.
But his father had spoken - there was to be no more discussion in the matter of his older half-brother. “Then as you say, that is the end of it - until something else happens!” Pausing, Turukáno slipped his hands from the table and sidestepped from in front of the chair. “I should go.”
What his son did Ñolofinwë could simply not allow himself or, here and now, let plainly pass. Eyes hard, he looked on, unmoved in his seat, but the furrows on his brow tightened severely. "I said, that is enough-" Repeating, his words cut in with Turukáno stopping himself and rang louder than intended for that moment.
The feet of his chair scraped on the ground less erratically and he kept his hands firmly on the heavy wood. Once his chest heaved with deep breath, then he agreed. "Indeed."
Art trade (more like a collab?) with curufinwefeanaro who did the lovely artline and I put some colors. Oh, these are Fëanor and Fingolfin, btw.
Moments Savored.
She had been requested.. A bizarre thing, but it was something one got used to after a while. Though she was hesitant at first, almost always despising when she was called for it normally lead to boring lectures about politics or something she frankly could care less about, when Irissë was informed that is was her father who beckoned her, she did perk up a bit. Her father’s company was greatly enjoyed, in fact, perhaps it was even savored. With her father being a prince, he tended to be busy with silly nonsense and whatever else royalty was dragged into. And when he was not preoccupied with such matters, he was frequently swarmed by her brothers or trying to deal with his devilish half-brother. Needless to say, time with her father was beyond precious to her.
However, though she loved her father with all of her heart, she cared not to make herself look presentable to him. From her seat she rose when summoned and from there she simply went; robes slightly wrinkled and her feet bare, not to mention her hair was tousled and tangled for some peculiar reason. But the elleth put no mind to it; surely her father would not care about her appearance.
With great haste she bolted from the chambers, dividing herself from the guard who had been sent to retrieve her. She knew her way down the grand, marble halls well enough that it would not take her long to find her father. Through twists and turns she flowed about their home for she knew it like the back of her hand and could likely travel the course of the home with her eyes shut.
But a particularly sharp turned found moving a bit too quickly and with a swift sudden movement she clashed into a taller figure, one whom she was unsure at first (Considering all of the males in her family were rather tall, it would be silly to make an assumption without getting a good look), but upon further examination she was pleased to find the one she had stumbled upon-literally- was in fact her beloved Atar.
" Looks like I found you first…~" Her tone was cocky as usual as a sly grin peaked onto pale lips.
He had sent for his daughter from his study, yet meant not to meet her there. These times were past, when he requested her to sit for lessons -- although he considered the education of his children his responsibility for ever -- and no such thing was this, regardless.
Though, so it was Ñolofinwë's need to relocate also. Not as grand as the palace of Finwë was the house that Anairë and he had as their home, and that of their sons and daughter, still, great enough that a swift stride through the hallways made a difference, and his study and adjoining conference room were nigh at the most far end of the place.
That was, however, a distance that Írissë especially, it seemed, understood to navigate quickly -- how often had she outrun her elder brothers, and to a lesser measure of common amusement, her parents even -- it was early that her father had had to learn to keep his hands ready to catch her, something more or less perfected at the cost of a few broken dishes, scattered scrolls, and other such things.
Yet, for that, it held over the years, as now. He could, though, not have guaranteed that nothing would have taken damage, had he carried aught. Unmistakably, it was his daughter -- hair tangled, feet bare...
'Iryë,' he said- or said almost, with a hint of scolding and reprimand; it must be the memory of swinging her by her arms, when she had still been small enough to do so, that stopped him here near every time. Once combing his fingers through her hair though, to undo only some loose knot, that he could not resist. Her smile he returned when she looked at him lastly, though less sharply, and so also did he reflect her the keenness in her tone, meaning it -- the note on her appearance -- only lightly, of course. "Ai, did my request truly sound so urgent?"
Ñolofinwë could have company while he read; there was an assortment of books in this room, many of them academic in nature and a cause of many headaches for Findekáno, but he had more pleasurable readings as well. His hand hovered. There were romanticised tales of Cuiviénen that he favoured—ones he’d been told off for mixing with truth on more than one occasion, namely by the ones who were old enough to recall the truth of the past. Though perhaps not those, while confusion still hovered around the edges of his memory.
A second later, however, Findekano’s face brightened, and he reached for a set of papers. Neatly folded and placed beneath one of the trinkets he kept on his desk, they had been given a position of care, even if the edges were ragged and the words crossed out in a number of places.
"Songs," Findekáno explained as he glided back to his bed, the blanket still covering him. He hoped it might hide the fact that his cheeks had turned slightly more pink; he loved a crowd for his music, but it was different to present drafts to his father. And usually, it was others’ writing that he performed—classic songs of their people, of the Ñoldor and the Vanyar.
He settled beside his father, holding the papers before him. “Would you like to look them over?” He asked, still mindful to keep his voice quiet—there would be no demonstrations with his harp to accompany the words, but that was just as well when the notes remained unwritten. “They are nothing groundbreaking, but I am proud of them.”
"Ah." It was enough, at this hour, that whatever his son picked brought him enough delight -- that was evident if one knew to look closely, the blanket did not hide it all, but Ñolofinwë made no comment on it here. He enjoyed, not last with a measure of pride, Findekáno's skill in music. Much less a singer than an orator, however, he thought himself of little help in honing it; yet his ears were not without a sense of electing an appealing song, from either voice or paper.
"Of course." He took them, as Findekáno sat and gave the papers into his hands, and turned the loose pages with care, and read the words ritten in his eldest's hand. At last the taut air, that he had brought withhimself and that was for his being awake at this time, resolved more wholly; Ñolofinwë smiled as he read over the text, and of its own accord a tune wrote itself underneath them in his head.
Yet as he, after, returned his eyes upon his son beside him, he brushed that from his mind, in favour of learning the intended melody, some time. "I would certainly like to hear them performed, if that shall be their purpose." Though, surely, he too should be loath to disturb the stillness of Telperion's reign, and thought to save that for a later time; but, both with affection and commendation in that moment, he laid his free hand on the back of his son's head.
valiantfindekano:
x
"I’m not yelling!" Fingon had the sense to lower his voice, but the intensity did not drop along with it. Briefly, he thought about blaming the adjustment from the battlefield to the quiet and peace of their encampment, but it had left him too exhausted to try and argue his way through excuses for such a minor thing.
"I am not yelling." He repeated it, then closed his mouth and grit his teeth. Beneath the heavy layer of bandages on his shoulder, he could feel his flesh trying to knit itself back together; the outpouring of blood had left him hyperaware of the wound, though already the herbs of the healers were taking effect.
He wondered if they’d given something to make him drowsy, and if they had done so at Fingolfin’s own request. Again his voice dropped in volume, but he spoke quickly now.
"I think it’s a bad idea to take so many men under your own command, and if you try and inform a captain of the role I was meant to fill it will lead to confusion. I’d hardly feel this cut under my armour—" Despite the sizeable dent from the orc’s axe—"so I beg that you do not send me back to Eithel Sirion like a, like a naughty child, when I am still needed on the field of battle.”
"As a child you listened better." Fingolfin could allow his voice to be the louder, and he made use of that. "You are needed, yes, and I hear your council, as my commander, but you will heed my o r d e r s as my son and captain both."
And his son, most of all, he saw swaying with the stress of his wound, and perhaps the efforts of the healers -- they knew to do as needs must. The dented pauldron he had laid eyes on only briefly, but long enough, though whether it might even be fixed in time was hardly on the forefront of Fingolfin's mind. "You will go, whether or not it is while still begging I say otherwise."
"You will wait here until all has been made ready for you to depart." Only here was his tone again more level to their surroundings, there was no divide to be made now, to be father OR king, and here especially these two things mingled and made him more stern in his concern than he, perhaps, would be, being a father only. Yet this way or that, his mind was set and as he looked to Fingon that was conveyed in his gaze.
♔ Over ten years of RP experience. ♔ Two years Tolkien tumblr RP experience. ♔ Well versed in Tolkien legendarium. ♔ Multi-verse. Open to OCs and AUs [semi-selective]. ♔ Multi-para, para, and banter interactions welcomed.
• H O M E • A B O U T • H E A D C A N O N S • A S K •
|| valiantfindekano & sarafinwe, would either of you mind if I replied to the respective fight/argument ask?
"Your atya is right. There are books about all things.” A wave of relief washed over her. Thank goodness it had been by his own assumption, and not influenced by Findis or one of the ‘kissing’ books she herself had left out in the open.
"And you are right too. There are kissing books." Gently, she ruffled his hair. Her little boy was so smart. "Though I cannot help but wonder what made you think of kissing books."
"You kiss Atya, you kiss Findis and I when we wake up and when we go to bed." Ñolofinwë's confidence in his reasonings was not broken by more of his mother's testing thoughts.
But as suddenly as it had come up he was now content to move on from the subject. His interest evidently returned to the book that was before them, that Indis had laid in her lap. "What kind of book is it, if it isn't a kissing book?"
Nolofinwe and Ingwion
Ingwion smiled as he saw his cousin sit up straight in the chair. It was far too big for him. Oh, small prince, one day you will be tall like birch, Ingwion thought. "Oh, Findis is really good at that, she was looking around and nodding from time to time as if she was listening to everything." When the child jumped off the chair and followed him Ingwion smiled warmly and offerd him his hand. "So you are going with me? For a small adventure? I am sure Sunshine will like you, young prince," he said as he opened the door and led the child outside and down the corridor. "Do you ride a horse, dear prince?:
Ñolofinwë agreed by nodding, but was now inclined to forget the atmosphere of the room as they would leave it behind. He was satisfied, that he could reach up to take Ingwion's hand without so much effort and smiled.
"Not yet," the boy answered then, for the image of him sitting upon a full grown horse was still much like that of him sitting in the chair. That was, that he had sat on the broad back of one steed or another, hefted up there by longer arms, and the animal had walked a few steps with him on top -- but he did not, though he liked it, consider that riding, unlike Oromë upon Nahar. Here he returned his thought to the Vanya's horse. "I like that name," he decided aloud, however it also brought him curiosity and he looked back upon Ingwion with it. "What does it mean?"
fairqueenindis:
x
A laugh escaped her as she settled on the edge of her youngest’s bed. “No, little one, of course not. You are much too young for kissing books.” She paused for a moment, letting the book rest in her lap. “How did you know about kissing books?”
He could accept that more simply, that he should be too young for it, as Ñolofinwë shifted closer to his mother under the sheets. What twisted his face into an almost incredulous expression was her question, for the answer was obvious to him, and he drew breath in preparation of explaining it at once.
"Atya said that books have been written about all things. There must be books about kissing."
Sentence Meme {Princess Bride}
"You keep using that word. I do not think it means what you think it means."
"Drop. Your. Sword."
"Life is pain, _____. Anybody who says otherwise is selling something."
"I am not left handed."
"As you wish."
"I wasn’t worried. Maybe I was a little bit concerned, but that’s not the same thing."
"You mean you wish to surrender to me? Very well, I accept."
"Truly, you have a dizzying intellect."
"Mawage. Mawage is wot bwings us togeder today."
"Have fun storming the castle."
"There’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. It would be a pity to damage yours."
"Is very strange. I have been in the revenge business so long, now that it’s over, I don’t know what to do with the rest of my life."
"Have you ever considered piracy?"
"Death cannot stop true love. All it can do is delay it for a while."
"Good night, _____. Good work. Sleep well. I’ll most likely kill you in the morning."
"You’re trying to kidnap what I’ve rightfully stolen."
"You seem a decent fellow… I hate to kill you."
"You seem a decent fellow… I hate to die."
"You rush a miracle man, you get rotten miracles."
"Rodents Of Unusual Size? I don’t think they exist."
"You can die slowly, cut into a thousand pieces."
"You killed my love."
"It’s possible. I kill a lot of people."
"I’ve hired you to help me start a war. It’s an prestigious line of work, with a long and glorious tradition."
"No one would surrender to the Dread Pirate _____."
"I got married. I didn’t want to - it all happened so fast."
"Then you’re not married. You didn’t say it; you didn’t do it."
"Is this a kissing book?"
"A word, my lady/lord. We are but poor, lost circus performers. Is there a village nearby?"
"I’ve got my country’s 500th anniversary to plan, my wedding to arrange, my wife/husband to murder and _____ to frame for it; I’m swamped."
"There’s a big difference between mostly dead and all dead."
"Yes, you’re very smart. Shut up."
"Please consider me as an alternative to suicide."
"There will be blood tonight!"
"That is the sound of ultimate suffering."
"Look, I don’t mean to be rude but this is not as easy as it looks, so I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t distract me."
"I challenge you to a battle of wits."
"You mean, you’ll put down your rock and I’ll put down my sword, and we’ll try and kill each other like civilized people?"
"Thank you so much for bringing up such a painful subject. While you’re at it, why don’t you give me a nice paper cut and pour lemon juice on it?"
"She/He is alive, or was an hour ago. If she/he is otherwise when I find her/him I shall be very put out."
"You can die too for all I care!"
"So I’m here till I die?"
"I can cope with torture."
"I fight gangs for local charities and stuff."
"That was a warning, _____. Next time my hand flies on its own. Where I come from, there are penalties when a woman/man lies."
"I will never love again."
"You mocked me once, never do it again! I died that day!"
"To the Pain means I leave you in anguish, wallowing in freakish misery forever."
"Never go in against a ____ when death is on the line!"
"We are men of action. Lies do not become us."
"They were both poisoned. I spent the last few years building up an immunity to iocane powder."
"I would as soon destroy a stained-glass window as an artist like yourself."
"I just work for ____ to pay the bills."
"It’s not my fault I’m the biggest and the strongest. I don’t even exercise."
"I believe everything to be a trap. It’s the reason I’m still alive."
"Stop saying that!"
more flower crowns!!!
Nolofinwe and Ingwion
Ingwion smiled and touched a small star-shaped pendant on his neck. "I’m going to the stables to see my horse. His name is Sunshine," he said. "If you want to you can ride him for a while, young prince." He looked at the young Noldo, noticing all those evidences of his interest. It was good to see Indis’ son was so eager to do something. Ingwion appreciated that, alongside his kindness. Good, Nolofinwe, he thought while looking at the younger elf. "Adult talks are boring," said the elf who not so long ago reached his fifth decade of life. "They simply sit and pour words around like water from a bottle. When I was in the room where they are sitting they were talking about someone’s children. Again. This is definetely not fun." Dark blue eyes of almost white-haired elf looked at the other one when he was walking to the door. "So? Will you go with me?"
There was no easier way to the elfling's heart than the promise of such a little adventure. He agreed, nodding, at once. Upright he sat now in the large chair.
"Findis only pretends that she is interested." After all, his sister should reach her majority but a few years sooner than Ñolofinwë, he could not imagine that she truly found enough entertainment with this talk already. As Ingwion walked towards the door he reached out but a moment sooner than sliding out of his seat, he had decided. "I'm coming with you!"
ingwionthevanya:
Ingwion nodded and smiled. "I see. Let me guess, those all discussions of adults made you feel sleepy, huh? Do you want to do something more interesting?" Ingwion brought the book he finished to read and put it on the right place on the shelf. Then he turned to the young Noldo. "So? Do you want to stay here or to go with me?"
"Where would you go?" He asked with reservation, craning his neck to look at Ingwion in his full height, but Ñolofinwë's interest was evident at once, sitting up, rubbing quickly at his eyes.
Wherever, it could only be more interesting than the large chamber filled with so much adult talk, or this room, although full of books and some even with decorated spines, but they looked unfit to be touched by such small hands as his own.
That sounded like the kind of question Ñolofinwë would have sternly posed to Findekáno when he was younger. He’d hated the prospect of sleeping all night long when he was a child—those were good hours being put to waste. Hours he might spend exploring, singing, climbing, playing… or failing that, being tucked against his parents’ sides and begging for more stories even when he fought to keep his eyelids from drooping shut.
He glanced over at the edge of his bed, a suggestion that his father could sit if he meant to stay—he had no intention of crawling back under the tangled mess of blankets just yet, at least.
"I slept for a while." How long, Findekáno could not say, not least because he’d avoided the Treelight since waking—it made it difficult to gauge the hour. "Dreams woke me. Were you awake reading?"
Ñolofinwë took the invitation to pull the door shut, had he kept his grip on the handle to do either this, or if he had decided to leave his son to his own devices once more and shut it from without. He had no need to draw one of the covers about his shoulders as a mantle, come in his dressing gown over his clothes, that which he took he folded once, not neatly, only to put it aside somewhat to sit.
There on the edge he had sat much them same, and had done the same to have some room to sit beside his son, in those years that lay back a while now, when dreams had barely been given the time to become in his mind ere Laurelin's light should shine again. For another fleeting moment, he still looked searchingly to Findekáno, whether there was aught sign of terror on him, to have woken with -- a father's concern for such does not wane simply with the passing of his child from youth.
"I was." Though it had been, that he had been reading, without sleeping first. That Findekáno stood with his books left it easily to be guessed, that he had planned to do the same now. But had he invited his father to come inside, Ñolofinwë laid his hand beside himself on the matress, not patting there but meaning it as a gesture of much the same intent, for his son to sit down beside him. If he would, with a book.
|| Celebrindal. Because Idril, while she went barefoot, wore such intricate, sprakling, silvern anklets and toe rings all the time.
