I like to draw little scenes from a universe where things aren't so bad, so here's some more Ereinion (and more)
A small sketch with russingon
And also an ereinion with wings
styofa doing anything
Jules of Nature
Sweet Seals For You, Always
we're not kids anymore.

JBB: An Artblog!
he wasn't even looking at me and he found me
🪼
Misplaced Lens Cap
taylor price
almost home
Game of Thrones Daily

pixel skylines
NASA

JVL
dirt enthusiast

❣ Chile in a Photography ❣
trying on a metaphor
h
todays bird

blake kathryn

seen from United States

seen from Australia

seen from Malaysia
seen from Türkiye
seen from United States

seen from United States
seen from Türkiye

seen from United States

seen from India
seen from Lithuania

seen from United Kingdom
seen from Sri Lanka

seen from Malaysia
seen from United Kingdom

seen from Malaysia
seen from Sri Lanka

seen from Chile

seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from United Kingdom
@wingedluminarytyphoon
I like to draw little scenes from a universe where things aren't so bad, so here's some more Ereinion (and more)
A small sketch with russingon
And also an ereinion with wings
I like to draw little scenes from a universe where things aren't so bad, so here's some more Ereinion (and more)
A small sketch with russingon
And also an ereinion with wings
everyone talks abt how adrian and rocky are roger and jessica rabbit and how rocky bagged a baddie and shit but what if,,, it was the other way around,,,,,,
(full image under cut)
Caranthir: it's Sunday, and you know what that means.
Maglor: ...I assume you don't mean church. Some kind of sport...thing?
Caranthir: what? No I—maybe? I don't know. We aren't the people to know about that, I go to the library for fun.
Happy pride month to the tiny cowboy and tiny Trojan man from Night at the Museum
This hands down the best comment in the notes, I will not be taking criticism.
Shark Attack
It has been months of searching, of prowling beaches and back alleys, before Maitimo finds what he’s looking for. Smells it on the man when he walks into the bar one late summer night. Most of the human is clean, soap scrubbed deep to hide what he’s done, but he’s forgotten to check beneath his fingernails. The scent, copper and sea salt and starlight, lingers there, giving him away.
Makalaurë’s blood.
Found you, thinks Maitimo, sharp teeth lurking behind his smile.
The bar is crowded tonight, full of summer tourists. He pretends to sip from the beer he’s ordered. Watches as the man - dressed in cargo shorts and a dark blue shirt, hair slicked back and wristwatch glittering with diamonds - grabs a seat amongst a group of friends. They order drinks and deal out cards, a familiar evening routine. Even though he sits on the other side of the bar, Maitimo can hear them perfectly. Can see the way the others envy the man: his sudden increased fortune, the ‘beauty’ he says waits for him at home, the way he boasts and brags about never needing to work ever again.
“I got lucky,” says the man, and Maitimo sees, dangling from a chain on his neck, something small and blue like a sapphire. Something shaped very much like a scale.
Anger keeps Maitimo steady, keeps his two legs from stumbling. He takes his drink and moves slowly around the room, pretending to play a game of pool, or watch someone throw darts, or stare at the football game on tv. Always, he is aware of the man, keeping him fixed in the corner of his vision, resisting the urge to leap forward and rip out the bastard’s throat with his teeth. Not yet, not yet.
Not until Maitimo has his little brother back.
(Read the rest here in Shark Attack)
Shark Attack
It has been months of searching, of prowling beaches and back alleys, before Maitimo finds what he’s looking for. Smells it on the man when he walks into the bar one late summer night. Most of the human is clean, soap scrubbed deep to hide what he’s done, but he’s forgotten to check beneath his fingernails. The scent, copper and sea salt and starlight, lingers there, giving him away.
Makalaurë’s blood.
Found you, thinks Maitimo, sharp teeth lurking behind his smile.
The bar is crowded tonight, full of summer tourists. He pretends to sip from the beer he’s ordered. Watches as the man - dressed in cargo shorts and a dark blue shirt, hair slicked back and wristwatch glittering with diamonds - grabs a seat amongst a group of friends. They order drinks and deal out cards, a familiar evening routine. Even though he sits on the other side of the bar, Maitimo can hear them perfectly. Can see the way the others envy the man: his sudden increased fortune, the ‘beauty’ he says waits for him at home, the way he boasts and brags about never needing to work ever again.
“I got lucky,” says the man, and Maitimo sees, dangling from a chain on his neck, something small and blue like a sapphire. Something shaped very much like a scale.
Anger keeps Maitimo steady, keeps his two legs from stumbling. He takes his drink and moves slowly around the room, pretending to play a game of pool, or watch someone throw darts, or stare at the football game on tv. Always, he is aware of the man, keeping him fixed in the corner of his vision, resisting the urge to leap forward and rip out the bastard’s throat with his teeth. Not yet, not yet.
Not until Maitimo has his little brother back.
(Read the rest here in Shark Attack)
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Write it badly or it'll never be written
Please keep interacting with this post because when I come to tumblr to procrastinate, this shows up again in my notifications and guilts me into writing again
If I might add (as I am sure other have done before me)
DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN
DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN
DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN
DRAW IT BADLY OR IT'LL NEVER BE DRAWN
Me: *Removes my cat from my lap to do something else.*
My cat: Father is...evil? Father is unyielding? Father is incapable of love? I am running away. I am packing my little rucksack and going out to explore the world as a lone vagabond. I can no longer thrive in this household.
The spiritual successor to Miette
Might I also add
May i add the piece from artist Verbal Vomit
Glad to see we’re all in agreement that cats talk like disparaged victorian children
I am so incredibly glad we finally moved on from "i can has". Cats are clearly smart enough for advanced sentence structure and dumb enough to draw entirely incorrect conclusions about what they're talking about.
My cat, banging the cabnet door over and over and over: bang bang bang
Me: you will not earn what you desire by banging the cabinet door.
My cat: This is a test of wills, is it not? We shall see if your ability to put up with my incessant banging outlasts my eternal lust for snackie treats. Years of conditioning have hardened me for this purpose. bang bang bang
Me: ksst!
My cat, throwing herself to the ground like she's been shot: Oh! Oh I have been assailed in my own home! Have mercy, have pity! Surely in the cruel darkness of your heart there is some mote of goodness that might stay your hand! Do not strike me, I pray you!
Me: ok
My cat, after waiting about 3 minutes: bang bang bang
Can haz snackytreat
(source)
Source
#the ancient texts
... My reblog was only six years ago!
He lounged against the worktable, the gold hems of his robes dragging carelessly through the dust; he was thoroughly enjoying himself.
“Hauling stone like a dockworker..." he said, "It is catastrophically unrefined.”
Nerdanel dropped the crate beside a half-built kiln and glanced at him once before snorting.
“If the prince finds the labor too vulgar,” she said evenly, “the gardens are several courtyards away. I am sure the flowers miss you terribly.”
Fëanor tracked the movement of her shoulders, a faint, heavy-lidded smile playing on his lips.
"No, I have no intention of leaving," he leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. "I find I much prefer the... brutality of your craft, than soft hands and fragile sighs."
“Then, move,” she said, approaching. “You are standing where the stones go.”
Nerdanel stepped past him toward the staging pile and slowly turned her gaze to him.
He was even more beautiful up close.
An intolerable thing to recall.
The lines of his face looked carved in marble, his infamous silver eyes bright beneath dark lashes, and he scented faintly of flowers as if he wandered out of a poem by mistake.
But she’d be damned if she let him see her swoon!
Fëanor stood up, stepping closer into her workspace.
His eyes dropped to her hands that daily conquered stone and clay.
He fantasized, not for the first time, about those heavy hands handling his body with the same uncompromising strength she used to break marble.
"Careful, prince, do not get too close to the site," Nerdanel warned, her gaze flicking slowly over the length of him. "With such a narrow waist, I might accidentally break you in half if I stumble."
Fëanor’s breath hitched.
A thrill ran down his spine at the image.
“Mercy, Nerdanel,” he murmured. “You cannot say things like that to me."
I never thought I would write this pair lmao complete version on AO3 (487 words)
Rowanne
Celebrimbor was sitting beneath a golden stone wall with his little toolkit spread around him, carefully hammering a crooked silver flower into shape, when the voices started again.
“He came to Middle-earth with the burners of the ships!”
Celebrimbor ignored them.
“He is the mad king’s grandson!”
That made him look up.
Three elflings stood there, all older than him by at least a few years. One had his hands on his hips in dreadful confidence.
Celebrimbor narrowed his eyes.
“My grandfather was not mad!” he said sharply. “He was the greatest elf who ever lived!”
The children snickered.
“The mad greatest elf!”
Another piped up, “My atar says all the Fëanorians are bad elves!”
Celebrimbor's grip tightened around the silver flower. He stared at them for a long moment.
Then, very slowly, he stood up.
Celebrimbor was smaller than them, with ink stains on his sleeves and silver filings in his hair. But Curufin had taught him never to bow his head in shame.
Celebrimbor dusted off his silk tunic with dignity.
“You will regret saying such things,” he informed them.
The children rolled their eyes.
“Or what?”
Celebrimbor lowered his voice dramatically.
“My uncle Tyelkormo will hear of it.”
Silence.
Even among elflings, the name carried weight.
One child frowned uncertainly.
“Tyelkormo the Fair?”
“Tyelkormo,” said Celebrimbor gravely. “The Cruel Hunter.”
He stepped closer.
“He hates elflings.”
The children exchanged looks.
Then Celebrimbor added:
“Except me.”
The oldest child laughed nervously.
“You are lying.”
“My uncle talks to beasts.”
“That isn't frightening.”
Celebrimbor considered this.
“He also ripped an orc's heart apart once.”
“What?”
“With his bare hands.”
All three children stared at him.
“He hunts the forests every night,” he continued darkly. “And sometimes he finds children wandering alone.”
One of the younger elflings took a frightened step backward.
"And then, what?" Celebrimbor pressed onward mercilessly.
“He ties them to trees so the wolves can devour them.” Then he added, “Not me, obviously, because he likes me.”
The smallest child looked alarmed now.
“You are making this up.”
Celebrimbor looked offended.
“I am not.”
“Yes, you are!”
Celebrimbor paused.
Then he said thoughtfully,
"He has an enormous hound that eats people!”
“That is not true!”
“It is! Huan is as big as a horse, and he eats elflings… except me.” Celebrimbor added. “And Uncle Tyelko says frightened children taste much better.”
At this point, one of the elflings actually looked ready to faint.
The oldest tried desperately to recover. “W-well—my atar says Tyelkormo lives far away!”
Celebrimbor smiled pleasantly.
“Lies. If my Atto is nearby, Uncle Tyelko is too. They are best friends.”
Absolute horror descended upon their faces.
“And,” Celebrimbor continued, enjoying himself immensely now, “I shall tell him exactly what you said about my grandfather. His father.”
The smallest child burst into tears instantly.
“I do not want the horse-dog to eat me!”
The others panicked at once.
“He is gonna leave us in the forest to die!”
And suddenly, all three fled across the courtyard screaming.
Celebrimbor watched them go.
I had an interesting night last night
I’m so glad I have tumblr gold so I can view this post
Tumblr gold users rise up
you can only reblog if you have tumblr gold. dont even try if you dont.
Reblog if you have Tumblr gold
CHARACTER(S) ADDED!
Tumblr Gold Users
I love Tumblr Gold
P1 is Celegorm Caranthir&Curufin
P2 is Celegorm&Celebrimbor
Feanor