Euglena

It really doesn't help that none of the Fëanorians have sworn any fealty to Finarfin. They have, in fact, refused to swear fealty to Finarfin. Technically Formenos isn't part of Tirion and it's pretty far away, but this is very not reassuring if you are, say, someone who is very aware of how good the Fëanorians are at overthrowing kings and massacring cities.

(As far as the Fëanorians are concerned, the kingship by rights belongs to the House of Fëanor and only passed to Fingolfin and Fingon because Maedhros said so. Maedhros has said nothing about Finarfin inheriting, ergo, Finarfin isn't their king.)

oestrogen tracker is here.

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if you experience any disability or neurodivergency please fill out this form. it is equally important to me to have data that says progesterone doesn't affect autism or testosterone doesn't make you hard of hearing or whatever, as it is to document changes. so if you have any health condition. please fill it out. even if it to say "no change". i am begging you all.

Findecano: Thanks!

Maitimo, walking in after and immediately smacking his head on the overhang and knocking himself on his ass:

Everyone expects Maglor to be the most talented battle singer when they’re figuring this out—including himself. In Aman, in peacetime, he’s widely accepted as the finest singer, harpist, and composer of the Noldor. Even Finrod and Fingon, accomplished musicians by any other standard, don’t question this. Maglor can wring tears from the most stoic master bard with his achingly beautiful voice. But after the first few Orc raids in Beleriand, never mind the Dagor-nuin-Giliath, it’s clear this does not extend to battle. Maglor is best at inspiring sorrow. This is excellent when you need to write the tragic downfall of your people to let them weep for their many losses. It’s less useful for helping allies or slaying Orcs.

Fingon, though, is the best at inspiring hope in his own forces. He never tells anyone so, but he discovers this in the mountains of Thangorodrim by coaxing his lost cousin to sing back to him. Fingon can hum the exhaustion from your limbs and sing the pain from your bruises, and he can give you the strength to push forward for a final charge. What annoys everyone else is how spontaneous and genuine it all is; if Fingon’s sudden battle compositions were contrived, they wouldn’t be half as effective. Maglor was known to grouse about Fingon showing him up when his nonsense refrain for the Dagor Aglareb—Our lances keen with deadly sheen / with ardor fierce, our foes to pierce!—caught on better than Maglor’s own elegant anthem.

Finrod is an unholy terror to enemies on the battlefield, and the Orcs flee before his song. He is a son of Eärwen of Alqualondë, twice as much Lindar as he is Noldor. Finrod’s mother was the finest loremaster of their clan’s ancient chants against the Dark, first crafted at Cuiviénen and perfected on the Great Journey. He learned them from her, and then he did them better. Finrod has lessons from Melian on how an elf can channel the Song’s chords for best effect, and he takes to it with deadly competence. Finrod could sing dread into the enemy’s heart and a tremor into their hands on their weapons. Golden, laughing, kind Finrod never raised his voice in song against another elf—but when he cast away his crown for Beren, they say you could catch the edges of terror from seeing his sharp-toothed smile.

He looks up to find Fingon and Finrod staring at  him.

‘What?!’

But. Please consider how effective it could actually be to make your enemy burst into tears on the battlefield:

What good is grief against the Enemy's servants? Maglor asks Maedhros, in disgust, one morning. I can help our folk to mourn better than any, but I cannot so much as make one orc quail in its tracks!

It is a rhetorical question, but Maedhros turns thoughtful. If you truly wish to know, I will show you, he says. The knowledge is cruel, but it may serve you well.

Show me, please, Maglor says. He is not without fear, for he knows that what he is about to see will, most likely, be a memory of Angband, but he is a lord of warriors, and he would be able to do more for them than comfort them when they grieve.

So Maedhros does. Maglor throws up when he has seen it. It would be the height of cruelty to use that against them, he says, when he is finished retching.

No, Maedhros says. It was the height of cruelty for the Morgoth to do it. To stop them would be a mercy, by whatever means it must be done.

So the next day Maglor rides out at the head of the cavalry of the Gap. There is a large orc-band riding through the country, and Maglor begins to sing.

He sings of the stars over Cuivienen, reflecting in the waters of Lake Helcar. He sings of Yavanna's forests and Irmo's gentle dreams and Aule's lessons in craft that are for beauty and not for pain. All this was your birthright, by your fathers' fathers. Have you forgotten? the music asks.

And the orcs burst into tears. Some fall dead at once, spirits that retain more memory of the Elven-kind they might have been revolting against the foul forms in which Morgoth has clothed them, fleeing to the doors of Mandos. Others fall upon their blades. The cavalry see to the rest, while Maglor sings on.

The skirmish is over in five minutes.

What was that, lord? asks the captain of Maglor, when the song is over.

Maedhros: has fed everyone since he was old enough to reach the counter. Always cleans up afterward. 10/10.

Maglor: decent but whenever he accidentally curdles the cream he sighs, “thus are all fair things marred,” and starts composing lyrics about the sundering of the Noldor from Valinor. 8/10.

Celegorm: comes in, drops a skinned whole deer on the table, and leaves (Aredhel is equally guilty of this btw). Knows zero (0) vegetarian recipes. 2/10.

Caranthir: usually quite competent but once lost his temper at the twins and screamed, "if Father returned from the Halls of Mandos and saw what you'd done with the stew, he'd immolate again but on purpose this time." Hard to live that down. 6/10.

Curufin: bakes elaborate pastries even though baking is "usually reserved for women." Occupies half the cupboards with his precision instruments for measuring flour. I made art of this at some point in my life. 9/10.

Hope you have a wonderful day :D

Finrod crossing the Helcaraxë

Fighting a mild form of art block with something quick and dirty, aka Findarato crossing the ice (He hasn’t got a hat or a hood, I hear you cry. You would be right, please suspend your disbelief for the sake of DRAMA and hair snapping in the wind.

The crossing is a theme that I find deeply interesting, and I hadn’t painted Finrod before, so here we go <:

As we all know, thanks to the support of the good people of Tumblr, Tylenol has experienced a meteoric rise to second place. Even though her competition is stiff, I believe in Tylenol's ability to go the distance.

But let's take a look at the competition:

Elmer seems to be a lovely boy. I have no qualms with Elmer, and think he would look fantastic on a beer can. But what about Elmer's campaigns? Who is the power behind the throne here, and how have they managed to find such breakout success on this competition?

A handful of wealthy donors are trying to buy this competition.

At the end of the day, all donations are good donations here. This is a charity event so every penny earned is going to help animals in need. But it's not lost on me that Elmer's current ranking is thanks entirely to a few individuals with the financial means to put their thumbs on the scale.

Tylenol's donors, comparatively, are small and numerous, mostly $1-10 donations from many passionate believers in what she stands for (autism and pain relief I think).

Overall, the donations tell a very different story than what the base ranking shows you. Elmer is held aloft by just 24 donors and bolstered by a few wealthy patrons, whereas Tylenol has won the hearts of literally hundreds of people. Even the current third place, Abby, owes her ranking to numerous small contributions rather than one or two large ones.