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Varda redraw

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Thranduil holds his little leaf gently every time Legolas calls him Ada instead of Adar and you're not gonna change my mind.

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Ice Ado Cancellation

So the official Yuri On Ice account dropped this tweet last night. Ice Adolescence is cancelled for sure.

I think we had all known that it was but the confirmation still stings.

And this wasn't just another cancellation like Netflix shows get. This movie was already well underway - animation had started. They already had music and choreography! Multiple famous skaters were working with them. They had released a trailer for it--and then it all got dropped.

I agree with Denki here - something major happened that we'll never know about, whether that was the Olympic committee or politics or MAPPA channeling resources into other series like AoT or JJK.

Either way, it stings. Yoi is literally the show that put MAPPA on the map, and it had a giant international audience. Like just looking at how many different languages are under the announcement post is enough to show how beloved it was. This tweet from Junicihi Suwabe (the voice of Victor) really expresses it.

And I've always loved the fandom. It was a welcoming and happy place to be back when the show first aired. I don't think fandom can really exist like that anymore. (┬┬﹏┬┬)

Anyway, if you're reading this and have never seen Yuri on Ice, go watch it. It's literally a masterpiece on Sayo and Kubo's end of things and has excellent characters and storytelling.

cross posted from my neocities

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tolkien guys: oromë, gandalf, círdan, and thorin

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Fëanáro; King of the Noldor and Lord of the Lights

‘Why, O my people, why should we longer serve these jealous gods, who cannot keep us, nor their own realm even, secure from their Enemy? And though he be now their foe, are not they and he of one kin? Vengeance calls me hence, but even were it otherwise, I would not dwell longer in the same land with the kin of my father’s slayer and the thief of my treasure. Yet I am not the only valiant in this valiant people. And have ye not all lost your king? And what else have ye not lost, cooped here in a narrow land between the jealous mountains and the harvestless Sea? Here once was light, that the Valar begrudged to Middle-earth, but now dark levels all. Shall we mourn here deedless for ever, a shadow-folk, mist-haunting, dropping vain tears in the salt thankless Sea? Or shall we go home? In Cuiviénen sweet ran the waters under unclouded stars, and wide lands lay about where a free folk might walk. There they lie still and await us who in our folly forsook them. Come away! Let the cowards keep this city. But by the blood of Finwë! unless I dote, if the cowards only remain, then grass will grow in the streets. Nay, rot, mildew, and toadstool.’

Morgoth´s Ring by J.R.R Tolkien - Of the Speech of Fëanor upon Túna

This took way too long - want a burning version too? or the end of his speech??↓

‘Fair shall the end be, though long and hard shall be the road! Say farewell to bondage! But say farewell also to ease! Say farewell to the weak! Say farewell to your treasures — more still shall we make! Journey light. But bring with you your swords! For we will go further than Tauros, endure longer than Tulkas: we will never turn back from pursuit. After Morgoth to the ends of the Earth! War shall he have and hatred undying. But when we have conquered and have regained the Silmarils that he stole, then behold! We, we alone, shall be the lords of the unsullied Light, and masters of the bliss and the beauty of Arda! No other race shall oust us!’

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There is a horn. It is nothing special, made from the tusk of some beast that Aredhel barely even recalls felling.

There had been many such beasts on The Ice after all.

The horn had found its way into her luggage and over so many restless nights watching over little Idril she had made it.

It does not compare to those that The Hunt had used in Aman, bound as it is with scant strips of leather and metalwork repurposed from a necklace that she could not wear on The Ice.

But it is hers. And it is precious, in a strange way.

She does not take it when she leaves her brother’s city. It remains, untouched, in her rooms.

It watches as she slowly fades from a poison bestowed by her husband.

The horn is given to her son, yet he has no use for it. A love of hunting and the great outdoors was not anything she passed on to her only child.

It is gifted to another, to a child borne of his cousin, a more precious gift than perhaps his cousin realises.

(One of the few pieces he has of his mother. A wish and a warning and an apology all at once.)

Somehow it survives the Fall. Somehow it ends up in Sirion.

It does not burn in the destruction. Nor is it taken by the Sons of Feanor as they take their hostages.

It lies, abandoned on the floor, until the King comes (too late) to the aid of the city.

There are too few survivors, but they can ill afford to leave any supplies behind. And besides, Gil-Galad can recall his cousin placing a strange solemn honour upon the hunting horn.

It sits, unused, until the Sons of Earendil are returned to their king, whereupon it, aged and yet bearing a presence is returned to them.

There is little argument over which of them gets that piece of their father when it is time for them to separate. The elder twin takes it, as he took their foster father’s sword. The younger is content with a silver harp and the book of their mother’s herblore.

Elros takes it with him. A symbol of his House, and honour for his heir to bear.

Down it goes, down down down the generations until there is little but a drop of Numenorian blood left in its bearer.

It crosses oceans and continents and Ages of the World, survives battles and sieges and the falls of Great Cities and Great Kings until all that is left is a Steward upon his throne sending a son to find answers for a dream.

Finally, on the shores of a river, overlooked by statues of the Kings of Old, the horn is blown for the last time.

It is blown to summon aid, to draw attention, to allow those it’s bearer would protect the chance to escape.

It takes three arrows to take down the horn’s bearer, and the Falls of Rauros to finally grant the horn rest.

The Horn of Aredhel Maeglin Earendil Elros Numenor Gondor is no more.

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Ambarussa

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lord of the rings series

dedication: boromirs ♥

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Reblog to hug the person you reblogged this from and tell them that everything's going to be okay

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Hiroshi Yoshida Mt. Rainier. 1925 color woodblock

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Thinking about how when my oldest brother took Japanese classes his professor was like your pronunciation is really good 😊 but you need to watch movies that aren't about the Yakuza because you sound like a criminal

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young artist posting your work online, heed my warning. im holding your face so gently in my hands, you have to stop caring about numbers right now and start caring about making the weirdest and most self-indulgent art you possibly can

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Stylish ring

(via)

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Celegorm for day 3 of @feanorianweek !

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WIP Wednesday (actually it's Thursday but shhh)

I was tagged by @an-eldritch-peredhel thank you so much for the tag!

I had two options here, either the one writing project that is very self indulgent and like two people know about it in detail OR the Mirwë snippet, which is ALSO super self indulgent. You can guess which one I went with lol

For context: Mirwë is an oc of mine and the brother of Miriel. He refused to go to Valinor and stayed in Middle Earth until the beginning of the fourth age, when he sailed alongside Maglor, Maglor's family-in-law and Daeron. He dislikes like everyone of his extended family save for a total of like eight people, so yeah expect his opinions to be that way. Also: I crackship Mirwë with Ingwë but this is not relevant right now just wanted to throw it out there ...

Enjoy!

There were almost daily visitors coming to see (gawk at) the new arrivals from the Eastern shore.

It had, of course, started with the expected ones: Noldor, of all their unnecessary and stuck up flavors; peacocking around as if they hadn't been responsible for centuries of war and death and the sinking of an entire continent. Sindar, as arrogant and prejudiced as ever; barely sparing a glance for those beneath them and glaring judgmental at those who refused to adapt to their world view. Teleri, just another flavor of Sindar really, maybe a hitch more tolerable due to their lack of pretentious kingship - Olwë had always been a bit too meek though, but it hadn't cost him his crown yet so he must have some redeeming qualities. And all of them came to gawk and poke around, trying to find anything that was worth making a fuss over.  There wasn't, of course. The prince, they expected to find with a voice as strong as a storm, was merely a shadow of himself - bed bound on his best days, trapped in endless nightmares on his worst. All the while the Lady of the Lanyar had no interest in exchanging more than a few pleasantries with those who came, before she became fed up with nicely wrapped accusations of harboring a traitor and continuous attempts to make her people part of one or the other group and their ongoing feuds. The other prince, the one the Sindar wished to return to their people, declined any offer made with a smile that was as fake as any kind word falling from a Nazghul’s mouth - he had been offered countless opportunities to return to his father's people but he had taken advantage of none of them. Why start now? It was beyond anyone with common sense why they still kept on trying. Nobody came to see Mirwë.  Thank the Stars! If they had come to him he would have forgotten himself fast and spat at their feet as they deserved. Murderers, vultures, hypocrites and meddlers. He disliked them greatly. Always had. Always would.  Why then had he bothered sailing West at all when all those he met were people he despised? He didn't have an answer for that, not a very eloquent one at least or much reason. But when his niece had looked at him so pleadingly and asked so kindly, he hadn't been able to refuse - even though he knew he would hate everything that came of that decision. (He did not hate her or her brothers, he never could. They had too much of their great-grandmother in them; of his beloved sister. He could not hate them and for that he tolerated their father too, even though he was one of the biggest hypocrites and murderers there was. And a shadow of his former self; perhaps that was punishment enough.)  …

Tagging @yellow-faerie and whoever else wants to share their wips!

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Tonight we remember those who gave their blood to defend this country. Hail the victorious dead!