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'Oath of Elendil' ~ Watercolor.

Started out as a mindless concept piece, but I listened to the Clamavi de Profundis cover on repeat so long I ended up fleshing it out to a finished painting. Et Eärello Endorenna utúlien. Sinomë maruvan ar Hildinyar tenn' Ambar-metta ...

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Considering the recent hateful rhetoric against Adriana and Chance Smith, I fully agree

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highly recommend keeping a small portrait of a historical figure who met a grisly end on your work desk. for perspective.

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What are the fun essentials you take when you’re traveling that you feel like you have to have (not clothes/toiletries etc.)

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Urgent prayer request: my aunt and uncle are taking an emergency foster placement of a 10 month old who has been severely neglected, and is currently at the hospital being evaluated 💔

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And a partridge named after the biggest war criminal in the known world

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So my brother used to work at a coffee shop and he was telling me there used to be this local Catholic priest that would come in and regularly order super sugary boba tea, except for one day, when he came in and ordered a double shot espresso. My brother, concerned, asked “dude, are you good?” and the priest, looking rather shellshocked, goes “…I just got called to study at the Vatican.” My brother never saw him again

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Gil-galad Variations, featuring all the gil galad theories i've encountered.

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I don’t often ask for prayers for myself, but I’ve recently stopped taking my antipsychotic medication (with a doctor’s support!) and a lot of my old self destructive ideation and depression/mania cycling has returned. Prayers that my schizophrenia symptoms stabilize and that I can find the courage to lean on God would be lovely <3

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*breaks out the wizard robes* aw yeah, it's that time of year again

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Month-long fic challenge using these LOTRO Rangers + Situations prompts collected by a-lonely-dunedain. Minimum of 100 words, no particular adherence to timelines or canon.

31: Prestadír (requested by @shoshotechi) & collapsed at friend's doorstep (requested by @a-lonely-dunedain)

“I didn’t want to bother you,” Prestadír tries, without hope.

“I don’t mind being bothered,” Mandan punctuates each emphasis with another object slammed down onto his kitchen table. “I mind finding unconscious idiots on my porch getting blood everywhere.” A bowl of steaming water sloshes over a bit with Mandan’s vigor, splashing onto the tabletop.

He wasn’t unconscious, Prestadír wants to argue. Would, if his breath would come back. He was able to knock and only fell over when his support (the door) was yanked out from under him. After that was dimmer, a haze of pain and occasional sound as Mandan swore and patched him together.

“We’re getting up now,” Mandan warns him a second before they do and doesn’t wait for Prestadír to assent or protest. “Onto your side. Don’t get blood on the table, I eat on that.”

Mandan does most of the work wrangling Prestadír onto his side. Even the thought of trying to sit up under his own power makes his side throb under its new bandage. Immediately his breathing eases.

“Better? Good. Don’t move.” Mandan takes the mortar and pestle from the table and attacks it, grinding down whatever the green and blue contents are with a vengeance. “How long ago did this happen?”

“Last night. Late. I set it, but then I moved wrong and couldn’t breathe...” In the wake of panic Prestadír feels only heavy and tired and a little like falling unconscious again. Mandan might really kill him if he does that. He tries to keep his eyes open.

“The time to find a healer is while you are still breathing,” Mandan says. “You should remember that, it’s good advice.”

It probably is. Prestadír can’t really concentrate on it, though.

“I also mind idiots falling unconscious on me,” Mandan says. Then: “Oh, why do I bother?”

“No idea,” Prestadír mumbles, and the world dims again.

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I want to own a house and have a garden in the back and a fruit tree in front and I want to tell the neighborhood kids that they can come pick the fruits when they want as long as they leave some for others, and I want to host dinners for friends and make too much food and make everyone go home with some leftovers, and I want to grow vegetables in my garden and beg my neighbors to take all this zucchini off my hands or I'll have to eat zucchini for every meal for the next few months, and I want to give and feed and love but I need more goddamn money first

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as someone with aragorn's kind of face framing layers i just know the front pieces are hanging in his eyes all day every day... "my path is hidden from me" you are 4 bobby pins away from utter clarity.

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Month-long fic challenge using these LOTRO Rangers + Situations prompts collected by a-lonely-dunedain. Minimum of 100 words, no particular adherence to timelines or canon.

30: Lorniel (requested by @poet-tree-lines) & buried alive (requested by @a-lonely-dunedain)

Her dreams have been the same lately, a recurring nightmare of cold earth and chanting. Two years ago the Second Company saw— or knew they saw—the first wraith from their own ranks. He has haunted her since, his empty eyes and shambling bones.

Lorniel wakes, and the dream does not fade.

The air is chilled and smells of standing water. Her last memory, blurry, recalls Himbar. She cannot be in Imlad Balchorth. Not without waking. Not so quickly. She can’t.

“Lithuion,” Lorniel was patrolling Himbar— with companions. It isn’t safe to go alone. “Húriel!”

The sound is swallowed by the earth. There is no echo. There is no answer.

Her breath is coming faster in her chest and this, at least, is a comfort. She is not a wraith, not yet.

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Another quilt - this was exactly my jam, getting to skip straight to my favorite part of the process. I love free motion! It's just sketching with a sewing machine.

It was exciting to have tangible evidence that my skills have leveled up; I definitely couldn't have done this 3 years ago.

And it looks perfect with my newly painted bedroom walls. (I chose a color that goes with every quilt I want to use in here, and I stand by that decision 100%.)