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A Teeny Tiny Curvo Standing On A Honeysuckle

(from my Flowery Finwians series)

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Have a Tyelko heart, everyone!

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Selina Kyle by Fabiana Mascolo

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"If you use em dash in your works, it makes them look AI generated. No real human uses em dash."

Imaging thinking actual human writers are Not Real because they use... professional writing in their works.

Imagine thinking millions of people who have been using em dash way before AI becomes a thing are all robots.

REBLOG IF YOU'RE A HUMAN AND YOU USE EM DASH

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I'm not one to post political topics, but I don't think it's political anymore. It's personal. It's about my Mother Iran and strangers trying to tear her apart for their own amusement.

The waters of Persian Gulf were not dyed crimson by the blood of my brothers and sisters for someone who is just experiencing raw and pure power to undermine it by calling it something else.

It has been called the Persian Gulf since the day maps existed, and it will remain the same until the end of time.

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Welcome to the Tyelkormo & Maitimo Week!

Hello Silm fandom, and welcome to the first year of Tyelkormo and Maitimo Week, hosted by me, @tinwe-the-local-assassin and @sadtimo!

With the C&C and Fëanorians weeks being hosted by the amazing @curufiin and @feanorianweek , Sadtimo and I who have been RPing as Maitimo and Tyelkormo for two years and writing amazing stories involving these two brothers, realized we find their relationship extremely underrated, and they're not talked about enough.

So what better way to shine some light on them but by starting a fandom event?

This event will be kicked off from the 4th-10th of July, and we would love to have you all participate in this event to celebrate these two cute lil bros! 🥺

Now, much like any of the other events, the rules are quite simple:

Please be kind to each participant. Bullying ain't cool kiddos and will not be tolerated.

Writings, drawings, headcanons, moodboards and any other way you amazingly creative people can find to show your brilliant minds are part of this challenge. Go nuts!

Due to both @sadtimo and my own values, we will not be reblogging works containing sibling incest. Anyone is welcome to participate, and we both are thankful of you for respecting us as well.

Please be mindful of the tagging, tw needed, and don't forget to mention us in your posts.(The blog username, but we try to keep up with personal mentions too). And just to make sure it will show up, you can use the tag #tm week. We'll be checking whatever comes up on the feed.

The week is just a formality, so don't worry about submitting works after the deadline. We will be keeping up with them after the event is finished, and we will be giving shout-outs!

Prompts and themes are just there to give you ideas. You don't need to follow them if you don't want to. I personally never do because forcing myself to write/draw a certain topic can never come out like my own moments of inspirations.

Most importantly, just have fun!

Themes and prompts will be further posted on the blog, so be sure to keep up with them!

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Idril meeting Tuor for the first time xD

Idril is having a full shoujo manga experience, while Tuor is trying to navigate a political drama loll

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The horrors persist but you can still dance to a song.

The horrors persist, but . . .

you can still put little braids in your hair. 😊

Reblog with your own "the horrors persist but...." Feel free to tag friends and followers!

no pressure tags: @iwanderbecauseimlost @idontknowreallywhy @modernmythic @myfairkatiecat @glorf1ndel @suldreensophie @wife-of-legolas @my-deer-legolas @kiis1k @laisrinel @dark-academia-duchess @sauroff @greenlaut @inthehouseoffinwe @kayoftheshire @little-crowling @nevermoorsource @sophitz @brontekotlcyan @neherandunasflor @pollkien @queen-fenestra @rinthecap @theladyofrivendell @team-moonlark

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Do candles pity moths?

Or moths candles, when the wind blows them out?

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Microblaurë spotted!

Inspired by this blood sample from my friend in the lab

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Uh...yeah

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Messenger of Death

A sudden feeling of awareness pulled him out of his dreams.

At first, he could not quite place it, but as it lingered, an itch at the edge of his consciousness, he stopped trying to ignore it.

Perhaps, if he had been another person in another world where he hadn't been shaken awake from his slumber by constant danger, he would not have noticed it.

But he was Finrod Felagund who had crossed Helcaraxë and roamed the wild lands of Beleriand, and he knew the watchful gaze of a hunter as well as the adoring ones of a lover.

He sighed, pushing away the blankets which had done little to warm up his shivering body, and climbed out.

Celegorm was leaning against his dresser, still clad in his elegant red robes embroidered with threads of gold. His circlet was the only jewelry missing, his aquamarine necklace shining as brightly as his blue gaze fixated at him. Finrod had gone to bed with every candle snuffed out.

“How did you get past the guards?”

He did not know why he had even wasted breath on such a stupid question, and his cousin seemed to agree, for he scoffed and looked away.

Neither of them spoke for a while, the only sound breaking the silence being that of Finrod’s breathing. Celegorm even breathed as silently as death.

“Don't go.”

It was said softly, no emotion woven in the tone of his voice. Finrod tried to pretend he could hear sadness in it. He tried to pretend they were still cousins and brothers as they once were, even if just for the night. Even if just for that moment.

“I must.”

Another humorless laugh, one laced with condemnation. A younger and less wise Finrod would have shrinked into himself at the scolding tone.

“Yes, but even if you didn't have to, you would have. Wouldn't you? Another stray in need of help? You've always had a bleeding heart for them.”

“You would belittle me for my heart, son of Fëanáro?”

At the mention of his father, Celegorm stiffened as he always did. Finrod almost regretted it, but then he remembered the insult clouding his cousin's voice, and pushed it at the back of his mind along with everything else his Oath demanded of him.

“I would belittle you for leaving behind your people for the sake of one man. For leaving behind your family.”

There was something akin to hurt there, if it was not also part of his imagination. For why would Celegorm of all people care about how defenseless he was leaving Orodreth, with vultures like this silver furred wolf around?

And what a hypocrite it made Celegorm to be, to feel hurt over being left behind because of an Oath?

“And were you not the one who left us behind once?”

“I left you a home to return to. You're leaving us with a pile of cards, standing just to fall by a summer breeze.”

And perhaps he was. Perhaps his perfect city was just that. And perhaps it was never and never would be a home to the sons of his half-uncle, but he had little say in it now.

He had spoken. He had people looking up at him to lead this suicidal mission, and his pride would not allow him to back down now.

So, silence he took once again, and for a while, Celegorm was content. He held his bejeweled pendant in his open palm, eyes soft as he caressed it with his thumb. His hand closed around it at last, and when he turned to him this time, his eyes held fear within them. Finrod did not know what to think.

“If you go now, you will not return.”

“I know.”

It was no news to him. He had felt it the moment Beren’s feet grazed the green grass growing by the shore of Narog. Or maybe he had known it long before. He could not tell anymore. Everything was too vague, and he feared he did not have enough time left to figure them out.

This seemed to surprise Celegorm for a moment, his already huge eyes widening, even if barely.

Something settled in him then. He no longer looked like the hunter he was born to be. In his place was an exhausted man, the dark circles under his eyes visible under the faint light of the moon.

Finrod should have felt victorious, but something in him was already mourning a loss.

“You will suffer. You will suffer like my brother did, and I fear your Findekáno has long abandoned you, little one.”

It was said, and not unkindly, but the pity in his blue gaze did not sit well with Finrod. He frowned.

“So be it.”

He sounded more and more like the child he once was, and not the man he had become. Celegorm, despite his own childishness, could have that effect on you. As if he knew something others did not. Maybe he did.

It mattered no more.

Celegorm sighed, one full of weariness and sorrow. Then, he took small steps towards the bed until he was face to face with him, and all the while, his eyes did not leave his face, as if he was trying to memorize it.

Then, he did something he had not expected, and he couldn't help but flinch away at first.

Celegorm leaned up on his tip toes, and his lips left a soft kiss upon his brow.

His touch felt as cold as death.

Maybe it was death, and Celegorm his messenger.

“And so be it. I would have said I would meet you on the other side, but I do not know where my own path leads me after my time comes.”

The finality of his tone felt like a nail to the coffin. Whose, Finrod did not know.

He stood there long after the Silver Ghost had disappeared, feeling more like a corpse despite the light in his eyes and the breath passing through his parted lips.

He did not sleep another blink that night, and he felt no loss. Dead men needed neither food nor rest.

And he was no more alive than a falling leaf of an oak tree in autumn. He had just not reached the ground yet.

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The Sleeping Valiant

A Teeny Tiny Finno sleeping on a tree branch without a care!

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Adorable little Eldar

Lord Oromë was a busy Vala, and usually, it wasn’t him who was in charge of retrieving the training hunting puppies, but his Maiar.

He was not sure himself, as to why this particular energetic one had opened a special place in his heart for himself to the point he managed his training on his own.

Orome wasn’t one to choose favorites. That was his lord, Manwë, not him. He loved all his apprentices and his hounds equally, but the Great Hound who was still so small had become an exception after all these Millenia.

So that was why he was there, looking for his wayward puppy who definitely wasn’t in the place he had told him to be when he left him almost two weeks ago, or anywhere else in near sight.

Instead, he found a silver-haired Elfling who, as far as Oromë was aware, had no business being there at all.

The child was sleeping, hugging a small bow and quiver full of tiny arrows close to his chest. The sight had him coo out loud despite his annoyance.

Eldar were adorable, but the small ones who had a love for hunting even more so.

What was one so young doing there, so far away from his parents? He looked to be one of the Lindar with that bright hair. So, why was he there, miles away from Alqualondë?

As much as it pained him to disturb his peaceful slumber, he had to know where he was from or where his parents were. He could not stay there alone.

So he knelt down and once he was eye to eye with the child, poked him lightly on his nose. The small face scrunched up a little, but beside that, silver-haired showed no more reactions.

Oromë sighed and sat down. It was going to be a long day.

Based on my work, Hasty in Guilt.

You can read it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/50669464/chapters/127997449

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The 3C sleeping on trees. For the moment, we shall have peace.

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Past The Point Of No Return

He found him right where he was supposed to. He had relived himself, thank whichever Valar listening, and was heading back to his tent to sleep off the alcohol.

The lamps were still on. None of his friends had returned.

Celegorm creeped on and followed him inside.

There were three cots inside. Mattresses dragged from the infirmary. The sheets which used to be white as snow where no yellowed and dirty beyond salvation.

The man was still pretty drunk, for he didn't seem like he had noticed his presence. He fell upon the mattress closest to the beam of the tent, and closed his eyes.

He was asleep in a matter of seconds.

Celegorm got to work.

He pulled the knife from his boot and began carving the silence charm on the beam.

He remembered well the day his father, tired and sleep deprived and just sick of Maglor’s late night inspirations, had miraculously woven words together and from then on, nights were peaceful again.

And there Celegorm was, tainting yet another of his creations.

Maybe this was the reason for his anger. For everyone misusing all that was his for their own amusement and wellness.

Or maybe, if he could explain it to him, he would understand his reasonings. For didn't he do all that ruined him in the name of revenge?

The symbol was completed in minutes, for he knew it by heart.

He looked around, ears sharp and listening in case of an interruption.

Nothing was heard. The night was yet young, after all. He was lucky his target had taken it too far too fast, and he was too old.

He let the illusion fade away. He wanted him to know. He wanted him to see who he was. What he was. He wanted him to feel even a part of the fear Aerel had felt.

He looked at his ugly face again, and the cold anger resurfaced. He did not feel an ounce of guilt for interrupting his peaceful slumber. It was the kindest thing he had planned for him.

The kick was enough to wake him up, but not sober his addled mind.

He blink owlishly at his face and broke into a laughter so hateful, Celegorm had to clench his fist around the dagger in order to not stab him to death then and there. It was too soon. It would be too easy.

“You're…you're even prettier than the …the other one! And you came to me all on your own! What's your name, hm?”

He cooed at him, reaching with a hand to touch a stray lock of his hair escaping his hood.

He regretted it before he could breathe again.

Illustration of my one-shot, The Phantom of Himring

You can read it here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/64260898

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Tiny beach maglor doodles from class :]

My fav little guy