#curufinwefeanaro

[cyrefinn]

// After so many years, I remembered this blog and all the marvelous times I had on it, and I miss them desperately. Anyone from the old group of RP’ers I used to write with still around? o.O

[aglaecan]

🗣 for Caranthir and Béru!

a conversation between two of my muses || probably always accepting tbh this one is cool

Well, Berúthielthought to herself in a certain wry amusement, there is nothing at allawkward about this.

The elf – Fëanáro’s fourth-born, the one they’d called the Dark, was glaring at her. There was atension in his huge frame which she recognized, an intensity and a sort offlame which was purely Fëanor. The fifth-born had been the one named for his father;but it seemed that all of them had inherited some measure of his fire.

She sighed to herself, and recrossed her legs, and waited.

She did not have to wait long.

“He’ll never touch you,” Caranthir said abruptly. “You knowthat, woman. Atar will never touch you.”

“I have been touched enough by men already,” Berúthielresponded mildly, and she saw Caranthir sneer, and then saw him grit his jaw,and then saw him turn sharply away. His fingers closed over the back of achair; she heard the wood creak and crack under the strength of his grip.

“It is not me at whom you’re angry, is it,” Berúthiel said,with a flash of that insight which had won her the fear, the hatred of Men.

Caranthir turned back and stared down at her, this woman,this woman whose features were not like the features of Haleth – who moreclosely resembled Ulfang’s treacherous folk, save for those eyes, those eyeslike wet ashes but glimmering silver in their depths. They were nearlyFëanorian, nearly Noldorin; and hewanted to hate her but felt only a certain old, old numbness. A scar, smoothedover inside his spirit, but still tender when he was incautious of it.

“He is not yours,”Caranthir said in answer. A non-answer, nothing directly touching her question,which cut too near the bone, which was too close to places he did not wish tolook at. Not now, not after his time in Mandos’s endless halls, alone. Without her, her whom he could never see again.That scar had broken open and bled again, in that place, bereft of his fleshand the walls he’d built about it. He had seen her again, as he’d died. Orthought he had. And yet when his eyes had opened again, the eyes of his spirit,she had not been there.

“But he is not yours, either,” Berúthiel said to him softly.A hard thing for children to understand sometimes, that their parents were nottheirs only, that their parents had lives internal to them and which touchedupon their children not at all. “And he is not mine, you are correct. Not wholly,though there is a part of him I might claim.” She pressed a hand to the centerof her chest, feeling the sweet ache of it. It was true that Fëanor would nottouch her, not in that way, but inother ways were bonds formed, and they had looked into each other’s minds, deeply and completely.There was a choice in that.

She stood up from her chair. Caranthir, who had faced downdemons of flame, dragons, orcs who were twisted mockeries of the Quendi…flinched slightly, and felt his cheeks heat in shame and rage together. Hersmile was not unkind as she looked at him, but it was uncompromising.

 “Do nothate your father for daring to love again, just as you did,” she said sharply. “Donot hate yourself for it, either. Love, o nimir, is sufficient unto love. Thatis the wisdom of the Atani, whom you have loved well, despite yourself. Love... it is not a finite thing.”

His teeth flashed in a fierce snarl of an expression, butwhat he said to her was not what he had thought he’d say. “Then why do I feelonly endings? My memories of her areperfect. With clarity undimmed do I recall the moment she died, and our bondattenuated.”

Berúthiel, with unwonted tact, did not point out thatperhaps Caranthir’s anger was in fact envy, envy mingled with ancient grief.She only smiled slightly, an expression holding more of sorrow than of thesecretive amusement which was more usual. “Attenuated,” she said. “Not broke?She is still there, then. Wherever it is my people go when they pass from this realm, she is still there.” A gesture, eloquent,toward his chest.

This time, when he turned from her, Berúthiel carefullypretended not to see the tears which stood out in his eyes; and Caranthir bothloved and hated her for it.

[veliseraptor]

curufinwefeanaro replied to your post “limits, 1.7k, loki/grandmaster, nsfw, the kink is sounding have fun...”

I can't believe I read sounding porn about a fandom I don't even follow and liked it

well I’m putting that in my testimonials

[theotherwesley]

anyway Christian Dietrich Grabbe wrote a "Don Juan und Faust", tragedy in four acts. Needless to say, but I ship it.

Oh my god X’D literature’s two most prolific fuckboys... they deserve each other. Mephistopheles and the statue of Don Pedro can compare notes.  

[nihthelm]

« What has been done cannot be undone. »

florence & the machine || selectively accepting

His blade, the one his father had forged for him inanother land now lost to them, no longer dripped with blood. He had cleaned it,an ocean and a lifetime ago, and he had honed its unmarred edge with thoughtfulcare, and he had oiled it; and he had watched as the stars shone back from itsunstained steel while their white ship flew like the bird it had been built tohonor across the white and black breasting of the waves.

He could not see the stars now. They were obscured, apall of smoke interposing itself, a fire-glare outshining them with its furyand its hungry rage. The white ship was white no longer but black, black as thetrackless ocean behind them. It burned; and it sent up its smoke like the smokeof their grandfather’s funeral pyre.

“Let the ships burn,” he said softly. Not the clarioncry of his father, not the orator and the leader of men. Softly, and yet withsteel in it all the same.

What had been done could not be undone. There was nogoing back, no returning across the black and white breast of the sea. Theblood his sword had spilled could not be put back, vitality returned to theveins of those made pale by its loss. And he would not do it, even could it be.He would not suffer cravens, he would not return to a life of fetters and ofsorrow. The fire of the ship’s burning was not the gold of Laurelin, but it wasa heat and a light suited to this new place.

He raised his hand toward the flame and felt it, strongand hungry against his skin. It seemed to him akin to the fire which burned inhis father’s spirit, and his brothers’, and his own.

“Let them burn.”

@curufinwefeanaro

[fatalism-and-villainy]

curufinwefeanaro replied to your post “fandom gatekeeping is a widespread problem but I really take issue...”

CAN I REBLOG

you sure can!

[positivity-for-the-rpers]

archontem/curufinwefeanaro/canticleofmercy, Gaia is so absolutely wonderful, plotting with her has been one of the best experiences in rp and the plots that we've developed from it. While I'm not active ooc often, everytime that I speak to Gaia is extremely pleasant and wonderful. Plus her writing is quite something else.

@archontem @curufinwefeanaro @canticleofmercy

[dwimmerlaiks]

curufinwefeanaro said to dwimmerlaiks: how about Feanor and 13

some weirdness and some cheating but there was an attempt

[batteredoptimist]

@curufinwefeanaro hit the ♥

Much speculation had followed the arrival of the Elf with the dark hair to their small village. While mostly polite, he hadn’t necessarily made friends with the people there. The general consensus among the wise seemed to be that he was best left alone unless one had important business and not to pester him with anything trivial. A well educated blacksmith and an enchanter of things, he was far from someone to be trifled with save for those who truly thought their cause worthy.

James bore his offering through the crowd of people, feigning a confidence that didn’t reach any deeper than an artificial set in his shoulders. Ahead of him, the blacksmith set up and his target both gradually came into view, and he adopted a friendly, hopeful smile. There was a man there speaking to Fëanor who finished his business possibly a little too soon for James’s tastes, but the Botanist still urged himself to step up and hold out his pot on ceremony.

The plant he carried was far from what the stoic and slightly frightening Elf had asked for. The variety of Primula Vulgaris had just so happened to sprout with beautiful curled tendrils at the peak of every petal. The blooms were also a much more spindly shape overall, leaving the impression of something spun delicately out of lace. Beautiful, but far from a glowing bloom which would only open to the light of every fifth half moon which had been requested.

“I ehm.. Hello, Mr. Fëanor.” James had no idea how to properly address the Elf, and so went ahead much the same way he had the first time they’d met, “Hopefully you remember me- I asked you for a gardening trowel a short time ago.”

[theeternalsun]

curufinwefeanaro replied to your post: falling asleep over my desk, going to try and...

68.media.tumblr.com/6c0…

gedherhg what is this cuteness, WHO ALLOWED THIS

[nyarnamaitar]

@curufinwefeanaro Me giving relationship advice 99% of the time: just dump him, gurl. You don’t need that kind of negativity in your life. :D (And then I wonder why I don’t have a boyfriend, lolol.)

[fatalism-and-villainy]

curufinwefeanaro replied to your post “Even though certain aspects of it make me uncomfortable (“certain...”

remind to answer to this with some rambly thoughts about both Nerdanel's moral righteousness or lack thereof and about the true wife bit, I'm too tired to be coherent now

I’d be interested in reading that if you do!

[atariince]

« Look up to the skies and see. »

Bohemian Rhapsody asks

@curufinwefeanaro ​

Nodding to his father’s request, Curufinwë beheld the multitude of stars shining high abovethem, droplets of Telperion’s dew suspended in the sky, as thousands of vowswaiting for their fulfillment. Curufinwë did not exactly knew what his fatherwanted him to see, but as hescrutinized the starry vault and moved his eyes from one constellation toanother, he acknowledged the beauty of it and his own littleness in front ofsuch a grandeur.

They hadleft Tirion a few days before for another excursion in the wildness of theBlessed Land, and for days, the young Curufinwë had looked forward to theexpedition and discoveries and hopes that would accompany it. Here, surroundedby the appealing treasures of the earth, he could but enjoy the riddles ofnature voiced by his father. The campfire was scattering its sparkling lightover the fresh thick turf, but Fëanáro and Curufinwë were standing apart, whilethe others were diverting themselves around a merited supper. From where he stood,Curufinwë could hear the soft cheerful notes of Macalaurë’s song and the merrybarks of Huan. ; the duet was unexpected, if not bizarre, but no lessentertaining. Yet, despite the undisciplined and lively voices, the young Elda managed tofocus on the sight above him, delighted by his father’s presence and by the privilege of being here.

“I see Soronúmëand Telumendil above us, I see Menelmacar and its promises. I see the stars,the same stars the first ones of our kin beheld when they awoke… What do you see, father?” 

[braverytaught]

What is one thing that people often misinterpret about Minerva and why do you disagree?

metas. || always accepting.

OHO BOY. i’m glad you asked.

i have pretty strong opinions about minerva’s character, honestly, she’s just so strongly and particularly developed in my head that i get saltier than usual when i see misinterpretations of her character, so this is….definitely something i’ve thought about lmao. 

really, the biggest mistake people make is taking one of her attributes and just….stretching it too far. this can go either way - either someone will take the fact that she’s secretly amused by the antics of troublemakers, and use it to imply that she allowed a lot of rule-breaking to go unpunished, or someone will make her out to be the kind of person who will mock students and use magic as a punishment. so she’s either too strict or too lenient, and both annoy the hell out of me. i’mma talk about both of these sides.

minerva as secretly lenient.

i just went on a little rant in the tags about the former recently, but i’ll rehash it again, why not. the most common iteration of this is the idea that minerva secretly knew that the marauders were becoming unregistered animagi, and just?? didn’t care??? or worse, that she helped them in an underhanded way, like giving them information about animagi in answer to “hypothetical” questions, knowing full well what they’re doing. 

yeah, no. that wouldn’t happen. while minerva would be proud of them for supporting remus, and she might honestly have been willing to teach them if they’d come to her and asked, she would never, ever condone any unsupervised attempts to become animagi. why? because it is both incredibly dangerous and super illegal. unregistered animagi go to azkaban, and those attempting to become animagi are in danger of permanently mutating themselves if they get it wrong. if minerva found out what they were doing, she’d be livid with them. she wouldn’t report them to the ministry - she doesn’t want them in legal trouble if she can avoid it - but you can bet she’d strip them of every privilege she can think of and take away so many house points there’d be no chance of gryffindor winning the cup that year. the idea that minerva mcgonagall would turn a blind eye to, or even support, students engaging in a dangerous and illegal activity, is ridiculous. 

that’s not to say i don’t understand where this idea comes from. she did, after all, turn a blind eye to some of fred and george’s antics - but not until order of the phoenix, when they used them to actively oppose umbridge. it’s true that minerva is willing to allow rule-breaking when it serves a greater good (or, rather, opposes a greater evil). but fred and george’s pranks weren’t generally dangerous, nothing more than a trip to the hospital wing couldn’t cure anyway. botched animagus transformations can be permanently disfiguring. it’s a different field altogether.

the more general manifestation of this misinterpretation is that minerva just happens to be aware of a lot more troublemaking around hogwarts than she lets on, and lets a lot of it slide. i don’t like this idea partly because, again, it undermines the strictness she’s famous for, and partly because it makes her out as sort of omniscient? when we see throughout the series that she is often shocked to discover what the golden trio has been up to. in chamber of secrets she goes over a bit faint when she hears the full tale of their exploits. and she never knew that they really had been smuggling a dragon in philosopher’s stone, or she would have taken way more than 150 house points. it’s okay for her to not know things!! it’s boring to assume that she just somehow knows Everything About All Her Students when the truth is she’s been fooled more than once. 

so anyway yeah. minerva is amused by mischief-makers, but that doesn’t mean she won’t punish them for breaking rules. her strictness is a big part of her personality. making her secretly Super Chill might be fun, but it’s not canon. 

minerva as mocking and discriminatingly strict, and also using magic as a punishment.

okay, so the other side of this coin is this thing i’ve seen, not so much in general headcanon posts but more often in fanfic, where minerva’s strictness gets twisted into something almost malicious. and sometimes it’s written as kind of heroic, like, yeah this student totally deserved this treatment, go mcgonagall, which doesn’t make it any better.

example: i read a fic once that was otherwise pretty good about her portrayal, but when teaching a slytherin class, she a) charmed draco malfoy’s hair to be girlishly long after he made fun of a girl’s haircut, and b) threatened to use pansy parkinson as a guinea pig for their next transfiguration demonstration if she continued to act out. 

this sort of thing bothers me a lot. partially because minerva doesn’t use magic as a punishment. she says to crouch-as-moody - we never use transfiguration as a punishment! which is absolutely true. not transfiguration or any other magic. she has three means of punishment: deducting house points, giving detention, and revoking privileges. all very standard academic, right? she’s swift to hand out punishments, but she doesn’t get creative with those punishments. her job isn’t to find new and humiliating ways to punish her students. she doesn’t abuse that power. 

and there’s a deeper meaning to it than just not deviating from the standard ways of dealing with misbehavior - minerva does not want to model the idea that it’s acceptable to use magic to punish someone who does something you disagree with. especially as an authority figure. like, if she can go around hexing students who break rules, what’s to stop the students from hexing each other? what’s to stop them from growing up believing that it’s okay to use magic to punish, say, your own children? she views using magic as a punishment on a nonconsenting minor as 1) a violation of what magic should be and 2) basically abusive. so no, her response to misbehavior is not to use magic or even seriously threaten to use magic on a student.

and the other thing here is that, like…..at least with draco……..her response is calculated to humiliate. that doesn’t sit right with me. minerva is snarky, absolutely. she’s super sarcastic (though she makes at least a token attempt to rein it in when speaking to students, generally). but she’s not mocking?? i mean. to incompetent adults, yes. to people she hates, absolutely. but to students? she doesn’t look for ways to humiliate them. she might be sarcastic to prove a point, she might turn a student’s ill-advised behavior back on them (i’m thinking here of that one post i made imagining her calling ron mr. wazlib after he turns in an essay with his faulty spell-checking quill, which is maybe a tad mocking but only in that she turns his own mistake against him, and she doesn’t do it meanly). now, that isn’t to say she doesn’t end up humiliating students when she gets short with them - for instance, snapping at neville about how he shouldn’t reveal to students from other schools that he can’t perform a simple switching spell was probably p humiliating - but that’s. that’s a bit different, isn’t? criticizing someone for their low efficacy might leave them feeling humiliated, but it isn’t calculated to get the rest of their peers to laugh at them. changing draco’s appearance is. and i don’t think she’d do that.

plus i should note that in the fic i’m using as an example, she only exhibited that sort of harshness towards slytherins. her strictness isn’t targeted like that. she’s explicitly characterized as fair, treating students from all for houses with the same level of sternness. she may have to be more harsh with slytherins who act out in malicious ways, but she doesn’t unfairly target them.

i think that’s…….pretty much the gist of it. the point is that a lot of her mischaracterization comes from exaggerating a certain trait of hers to the point where it cancels out other key traits (rebelliousness cancels strictness, strictness cancels fairness). i think people don’t realize how complex she is?? which is understandable, given that it’s easy to see her as sort of one-note if you read her part in the books in a very surface-level way, but she really isn’t. she isn’t a caricature of any of her traits. and she deserves more thought than that.

[beruthielthequeen]

kiss number 20 probs for modernverse

kisses by the number || accepting

#20, Kisses because everything hurts right now including being loved by you but you’re also the only thing that makes it feel better

“Damnit, Fëanáro,” she swore quietly, leaning too heavily on the slender-legged antique table she used for a desk. “Damnit, can’t you just....”

She broke off. Of course he couldn’t. He wouldn’t be him if he could, wouldn’t be the straight-backed fire-eyed man she, at times despite herself, loved. He was a maddening creature, a man of passions and convictions -- she admired it in him, even as it frustrated her at times.

And what did she want him to do, anyway? What difference would it make to anything at all about their life together if he took her to meet his adult sons, if he introduced her to them as -- as what, his girlfriend? The word sounded trite and wrong... childish somehow, ridiculous. Men like Fëanáro didn’t have girlfriends; they had paramours, they had lovers. Well, and she didn’t want to be his lover, either; didn’t that just sound sordid and too physical by far, not encompassing everything they were to each other.

Partner, maybe. That was good. She was not ready to be anyone’s wife again; perhaps she never would be. And perhaps Fëanáro would never ask her. They both had their baggage to lug around behind, their crosses to bear. Their wounds.

Her problem was that Fëanáro wasn’t Tarannon. His was that Berúthiel was not Nerdanel. And yet, for how similar that sounded, the problems could not be more different.

She turned finally, to find him watching her. She shivered; his gaze was like a physical touch. She’d always thought that just an empty metaphor, before she’d known him. “Damnit, Fëanáro,” she said again, this time wearily. “Say something.”

“And what would you have me say?” he asked. The words were softly uttered, but something in them cracked a whip of accusation. She was asking too much of him, it said. She should know better, it said.

She laughed, a fey, witchy laugh, and shook her head. “Something! Anything! You’re the great talker, the man of letters; surely you have a speech prepared for every moment! Surely you have even a single word to give to me.”

He stepped toward her suddenly and she flinched back before she could stop herself; he was so very tall, and without meaning to, he loomed. Even over her, with her mannish height. And then again, she had learned to flinch when men stood over her like that. He stopped at once, seeing her reaction; her heart leaped and jerked painfully under her ribcage, the love she had for him as painful sometimes as it was glorious. He stopped. He gave her no recrimination, no guilt; and he stopped, allowing her to regain her dignity.

“Berúthiel,” he said then. A single word, but in it such a throb of everything he felt and could not say, all the years of his childhood and young adulthood, his grief and his betrayal; the mother dead and the father remarried, and, later, the wife who’d left him. And now, her. Her, standing here in front of him.

“Ah. A single word for me,” she said quietly; and then it was Berúthiel who stepped forward and caught his jaw in a long-nailed hand, pulling him down to her. The kiss had teeth in it, and unshed tears. But it said far more than a single word ever could.

@curufinwefeanaro

[mamaterasu]

once, long ago, the skies would rise only to slink back into obscurity. stars existed of course though their existence remained fickle, if not blurred against an uneasy twilight. they sink, they sink down (  deeper, deeper ) into the sea where all may find a tender embrace awaiting them. she knows. she has seen it all before. she has seen a night without stars & mists born from mountains stained in salt. men & beasts shall come to adore her, cherish her.

those eyes held so much within, underneath the pride she could see an inferno that even gods dare not diminish. he is not of her home  —  he does not belong here. although, perhaps they shared the same sky once, & reminisce of a time when the world was still young. did he come to he looks upon her with disdain however ; was it disgust ?  she cannot tell just yet, though she can sense it as clear as day. 

an ill-threaded silence does not last, & the air of watcher’s cape turns hazy. 

in the darkness, she spoke : 

❛  you doubt ... why is that ?  ❜

@curufinwefeanaro.