Éowyn is a cat

Happy pride!

Let me know in my inbox if there are any other flags you would like to see me draw :]

And, yes, that does mean I've updated my Pole Dancing story!!! Hope you all love this chapter as much as I do. :)

When tension fills the room: Adar: Smolders with unsettling intensity. 😏🔥

Elrond: Stares back because he’s got this. 🛡️👀

Galadriel: ‘Is this a love story?’ 💘🤨

this is my shameless excuse at drawing some explicit femslash bagginshield: these drawings were based on this great A+ sexy as fck oneshot fic “through her dooring” > click to read! <

They say nothing, but the question hangs in the air. Éowyn answers it. “It is not the same in Rohan–divinity is a quiet thing. Prayers are not spoken so much as thought of. Our temples are dark, hidden, smelling of fire-wrought stone and amber. Not like here, where worship is freeing.” 

“It is different in the world of Men,” Arwen reaches out, wraps her palm around Éowyn’s wrist. She feels the blood pump there, as Éowyn feels the cool pad of her thumb. “Please,” Arwen says, something in there pleading. “Do not feel so ashamed here. Do not be quiet.” 

The breath leaves her then, and Éowyn turns to find Arwen already facing her. Her eyes flicker around Éowyn’s face, making sense of it in the dark. She looks at her as if she is the most precious thing in the temple, worthy of all prayer. They are close enough for their breath to mingle, for Arwen to see the sun freckles splattered across Éowyn’s cheek, for Éowyn to see the intensity in her eyes. 

Éowyn does not recognize her own leaning, until her forehead touches Arwen’s, and there she closes her eyes and sighs. Do not be quiet. Arwen had said. Not a command, and though touching on a plea, Éowyn had believed it to be more of a want, a desire, a prayer. 

Do not be quiet. 

Éowyn opens her mouth–

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such breathless eyes — read on ao3 wc: 18k

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Nothing wrong with a mid-quest-hot-spring-nap with the bros after sprinting like 7 consecutive marathons 🤍🤍

«Love is Love» in Quenya (melmë na melmë) —by: