flonautilus

[flonautilus]

People don’t realize how much we sound like other things because we are created from the same laws of physics. “That potato in the microwave sounds like it’s screaming” is funny because it really is, air is vibrating out of a small hole which is how our throat works too. The babbling river that sounds like humans whispering, that’s because it’s a wet hollow cave with echo delivering the same functionality. The river doesn’t just sound like us, we sound like a river. They use a metal trashcan to create a lion’s roar for movie sound effects. But the truth is, not only does a trashcan sound like a lion, a lion sounds like a trashcan. Cars purr when you turn them on. Everything is like everything else. Inanimate objects are not so far away from life as it seems.

Remember the next time you feel more alone in the company of large buildings, or maybe less alone among the rocks of the river, that they are not completely unlike the parts of you.

[flonautilus]

last seeds of the withering tree

[flonautilus]

Ghost At Pelennor (acrylic and digital)

The Fellowship spy a familiar face at the battle for Minas Tirith, but Boromir died... right?

(get the print)

[flonautilus]

Fly away with your broken wings, little butterfly

[flonautilus]

[flonautilus]

one day, i am gonna grow wings || ref

[flonautilus]

[flonautilus]

I’d like to live through a week that’s not a whole new verse of “We Didn’t Start the Fire.”

[flonautilus]

Boromir Week, Day 4: Teenage years, Friend of Rohan

I think it's likely that Boromir and Theodred were good friends, in which case he'd have met the prince's younger cousins. Today's headcanon, as we've explored in length before, is that Boromir is lowkey terrified of Eomer.

@boromir-week

[flonautilus]

Boromir Week, Day 6: Change of Fate

The note from Boromir's horn bounded high and clear, ricocheting off broken, soot-stained stone. A swell of voices rose into the air, cheering and shouting.

“The King of Gondor has returned!” he bellowed, sweeping his arm to Aragorn over his shoulder. “Long live King Elessar Telcontar, heir of Isildur!”

Aragorn was sitting straight and tall on his horse, his mouth set, but his eyes betrayed the barest spark of shell-shock. Boromir wasn’t going to let him think about it. He squeezed his horse’s flanks and started forward. Aragorn’s horse instinctively followed, and behind them the cumbersome train of their friends, comrades, and vanguard fell into step.

They passed through the first gate, which was no more than the stubs of towers, rimed with ash and gouged by ballistae. Still, gate wardens stood on top of the rubble, and the heralds released a peal from their trumpets. First, the two rising notes that signaled peaceful news to the city, and then the short burst that had been preceding Boromir his whole life. The Captain was entering the city. Growing up, Faramir would buzz it through pursed lips whenever Boromir stumbled out of bed or emerged from the jakes. But following after was a ring that hadn’t been heard from the ramparts of Minas Tirith since the second age. A clear swirl of notes, rising into the morning air.

The King was entering the city.

A snippet from a fic I wrote a few years ago. We all know Boromir Lives is my lifeblood, and one of my favorite concepts is Boromir reinventing himself as the pillar that holds up and legitimizes Aragorn as king.

@boromir-week

[flonautilus]

Boromir Week, Day 5: The People's Prince, the Fellowship

"I will not go," said Boromir, "not unless the vote of the whole company is against me. What do Legolas and the little folk say? The Ring-bearer's voice surely should be heard?" "I do not wish to go to Moria," said Legolas. -The Fellowship of the Ring

When I center Boromir in narratives, I often cast Legolas as the comic relief, but actually, I've always thought of him in much the same way as Boromir: the son of a lesser ruler who has spent his entire adult life fighting the supernatural threat to his home, aided by no magic, largely unremarkable except in his bravery, skill, and dedication to his people. Another people's prince. Until Elladan and Elrohir decide to show up later in the series, Legolas is the only Elf who sees fit to put his life aside to help the Fellowship. I've always liked him for that, and I think amid all Boromir's weirdling companions in the Fellowship, he would clock Legolas as a kindred spirit---someone who knows strategy, someone who knows how to rely on his own wits and strength rather than mystical solutions. It's the combined masterminding of Boromir and Legolas who get the Fellowship off Caradhras, and in Moria I think they'd see themselves in similar roles. Gandalf seems to be at a loss. Aragorn hasn't had to step up yet. Gimli's expectations of the reception in the mines was wildly different to the grim reality. So I think Boromir would assume that if anybody was going to get them out of the mess they're in, it's him and the guy who can run over the snow, even if he does pass entire nights staring straight at the moon like a little freak.

But mostly, I think Boromir's time amid the Fellowship is mostly just

Like being the only human actor in a muppet movie

@boromir-week

[flonautilus]

I want to tell a story to the artists and would-be artists out there.

When I was 19, I made a large oil painting of the nerd I would eventually marry. I poured all my attention and care into this painting. It's the only art I have from back then that still holds up as a work I'm proud of today.

I entered it into a judged show at the local art center. It got an honorable mention. I went to see the show with my beloved model. One of the judges came up to talk to me, and highlighted that all the judges really liked the painting. It would have placed, except, you see, the feet were incorrect. They were too wide and short, and if I just studied a bit more anatomy-

I called over my future wife, and asked her to take off her shoe. Being already very used to humoring me, she did. The judge looked at her very short, very wide little foot. Exactly as I'd lovingly rendered it. I would never edit her appearance in any way.

The judge looked me in the eye, and to his credit, he really looked like he meant it when he said "Oh I'm so sorry."

Anyways the moral of the story is that all of those anatomy books that teach you proportions are either showing you averages, or a very specific idea of an idealized body. Actual bodies are much more varied than that.

So don't forget to draw from observation, and remember that humans aren't mass produced mannequins. Delight in our variation. Because it's supposed to be there.

[flonautilus]

~ Brother of Faramir ~

Something for @boromir-week !! While Boromir is the focus, y'all know I always like to draw Faramir as well. Back when they were so carefree, young, and happy...

[flonautilus]

@boromir-week Day 1: childhood, brother

Faramir said: Mithrandir says the tree is dead.

Boromir said: of course the tree is dead. You don’t need a wizard to tell you that.

Faramir said: he says it’s because it’s a stupid way to keep a tree. he says it always ends up dying, every time, because we don’t keep it propply.

Boromir said: don’t talk like a baby. And don’t say that! Mithrandir has never understood the duties of Stewards.

Faramir said: he says it isn’t politics, it’s gardening. he says we don’t let the roots go down deep enough, and they always hit stone, and white trees would keep growing forever-and-ever, if you let them; and if their roots can’t grow any more they always die, ‘cos it starves them, and that’s mean. it ought to be in the ground, and you shouldn’t keep a grown big tree on a - a - a - a PATIO, and not one at the top of a tower neither, a thousand feet above the plain, without enough food for a tree to eat. And that’s mean of us.

Boromir said: Mithrandir talks a lot of rubbish.

Faramir said: he says Minas Tirith has a proud tradition of killing saplings that are very rare, and he will only give us houseplants or tomatoes for presents until we get better at it. and he says that’s why the Lawn of Ecthelion is always yellow in summer too. Underneath the grass, there’s just a little dirt we brought here, and underneath that there’s the stone of the tower, which ‘vaporates, and it can’t hold very much water, for the grass to keep between rains.

Boromir said: actually - I do believe that. But the Lawn of Ecthelion always lives again - as soon as it rains.

Faramir said: yellow lawn grass isn’t dead, it’s just doormat. Waiting for the rain.

Boromir said: dormant.

Faramir said: maybe.

Boromir said: fine, fine, fine -

Boromir said: okay, Faramir, maybe you’re right. So what? What of it?

Faramir said: well, I don’t know. But I don’t like the tree anymore.

Boromir said: you don’t like the White Tree of Gondor.

Faramir said: I don’t like how it looks like we failed it. I don’t like it being dead. I don’t like to think of it starving to death. And I don’t like how it’s everywhere.

Boromir said: but the White Tree is alive everywhere else.

Faramir said: no look at it, Boromir, it’s dead.

Boromir said: no it isn’t, look. It’s alive on you and it’s alive on me. Look on mine. Look at the leaves. What’s that made of?

Faramir said: Broidery.

Boromir said: People don’t embroider all those leaves just to be on a dead tree.

Faramir said: is mine alive?

Boromir said: they all are. The only dead one is the one on the tower, and honestly, maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s a stupid place for a real tree.

Boromir said: look.

In real life a country cannot wait forever

For rain to come

Or a tree to grow

Or a king to come

Or summer to go,

Or a wizard to bring a tomato plant. 

There might be a perfect future someday,

But for now we have this day,

Which is our day,

And every other tree in the city is alive -

With leaves on it.

And on this day,

Which is our day,

I am going to sit on your head.

And what Faramir said after is lost to history,

For it mostly sounded like “gahaflarflarf.”



[flonautilus]

Boromir Week, Day 1: Brother of Faramir, Childhood, Protector

It's gonna be a week of headcanons! Starting with this one: Faramir's love of books was stoked by Finduilas reading to him all the time---Boromir was a more rough-and-tumble child with a shorter attention span. After Finduilas dies, Boromir takes it upon himself to keep reading to his younger brother. But reading doesn't come easily to him, riffing off one of the first headcanons I ever posted. Faramir is too little to understand how to tell his older brother that it's okay, he can just read the books himself---and something tells him Boromir needs to struggle through this act of protective normalcy as much for himself as for Faramir.

@boromir-week

[flonautilus]

Boromir Week Day 2: Son of Finduilas, Maternal Family, Grief and Loss

Today's headcanon: When the Steward's family appears at functions, Finduilas always held her sons' hands, first to guide them as they toddled beside her, and later to encourage her eldest in his burgeoning leadership role. In the final days before her death, however, Boromir can't help noticing the gesture no longer seems to be a motherly habit, but a physical support she actually needs. He gets the sudden impression that the hot, bright sunlight in the Citadel plaza doesn't seem to touch her anymore, like she's already halfway out of the mortal world.

But! I hate leaving Finduilas suffering, so here she is wearing a concept of Boromir's recognizable travel outfit. I've always wanted to make a ren faire gown version of his movie costume like this. See his shield, horn, and cloak clasps?

@boromir-week

[flonautilus]

📦🐊🖋.

Read Kobo Abe's "The Box Man"....