Maedhros for the fanfiction "The Light of the Damned Stars" ✨
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@stormchaser819
Maedhros for the fanfiction "The Light of the Damned Stars" ✨

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Illustrated for the @whumplovers-collaborate monthly art challenge on discord. The prompt was "windows, mission, and/or intimidated."
This is a piece of Lord of The Rings fanart, depicting Rivendell, for a rather whumpy Thranduil fanfic I have in mind; set directly after the end of the second age. The elves above are Thranduil and Elrond.
Arondir 🌟💐
Dusted through the forest like stars~

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Easy oreo cheesecake bars
that makes me curious
do you think you could beat up your blorbo in a fistfight if you had to
yes
no
nuance i guess?
Lazily drawn Glorfindel
when I have the energy I'll try to draw him more properly and continue the ballet thing skksks
Gil Galad's chief councilors and source of headaches.
Two half-elves: one the Eldritch scion of pretty much every royal line—human and elven—and the other, the Fëanorian hardliner that may or may not be an actual Fëanorian. Both are having a dubious claim to your throne and a total disinterest in it at the same time.
FROZEN PLANET II 1.03 • Frozen Peaks

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middle-earth's finest simps ♡
✧ includes: boromir, aragorn, eomer, and faramir
✧ warnings: tooth rotting fluff, hurt/comfort, protective male characters, physical affection, pet names, domestic intimacy, lotr-style courtship, canon-typical mentions of war, no smut.
wc: 1.6k
lord of the rings x fem!reader
✧ Boromir
Boromir loves fiercely.
Not cautiously. Not halfway. When he gives someone his heart, he gives all of it.
Boromir would be protective without being overbearing, always placing himself between you and danger before he even realizes he's doing it. If a storm rolled in during travel, his cloak would somehow end up around your shoulders while he insisted he wasn't cold.
He adores physical affection.
A hand on your back while walking through crowded streets. Your arm linked with his. Pulling you closer beside a campfire when the nights grow cold.
His love language is acts of service.
Your saddle needs repairing? Done.
You're exhausted after a long day's ride? Somehow dinner is already cooking over the fire.
Your sword needs sharpening? He already handled it.
Boromir is proud of you.
Not in a possessive way—he simply never misses an opportunity to tell others how capable, brave, or clever you are.
"You should have seen her."
Those words become very common.
After difficult battles, he seeks you out first.
The noise of victory celebrations fades away the moment he spots you across the camp.
Only then does he finally relax.
Only then does he know everything is alright.
At night, when the Fellowship sleeps, he often sits beside you beneath the stars, quietly speaking of home.
Of white towers, the wind over the walls, the things he hopes to protect.
And somehow, eventually, those dreams begin including you.
Being upset around Boromir is almost impossible to hide.
Boromir notices immediately.
The slight tremble in your voice. The way you stop talking. The way your eyes avoid his.
The second he realizes something is wrong, his entire focus shifts to you.
"Come here."
Not spoken as a request, but as a gentle command.
Before you know it, you're tucked against his chest beneath his cloak while he wraps both arms around you.
Boromir doesn't always know the perfect thing to say.
But he knows how to stay.
How to sit beside you, how to hold you, how to make you feel less alone.
When you're crying, he'll rest his cheek against your hair and let you hide your face against his shoulder.
His pet names are warm and affectionate:
"Little dove."
"Sweetheart."
"My lady."
And occasionally, when it's just the two of you:
"My heart."
When you need him...like, need him—need him. You want to be as close to him as possible.
That means sitting in his lap by the fire while he tells you how important you are to him—stroking your back gently.
✧ Aragorn
Being loved by Aragorn feels like home.
He isn't flashy with affection. In fact, some people might mistake him for distant at first.
But his love runs deep and steady.
Aragorn notices everything.
When you're tired, worried, skipped a meal, even when you're pretending to be fine.
You rarely have to ask for anything because he's already noticed before you speak.
His affection appears in small moments.
A blanket draped over your shoulders while you sleep.
A warm cup placed beside you during a cold watch.
His hand finding yours beneath a table.
He teaches you things. How to identify healing herbs. How to read tracks left on forest paths. How to listen to the language of birds and wind.
Traveling beside him feels like wandering through old legends.
There are evenings spent beneath ancient trees, listening to stories older than kingdoms.
Mornings filled with mist and birdsong. Long rides beneath endless skies.
Aragorn isn't overly possessive. He trusts you completely.
But if someone threatens you? The Ranger disappears.
The future King emerges. And that is a terrifying thing to witness.
Late at night, when the world is quiet, he speaks softly about the future.
Not kingdoms...but a home.
A life where he can wake beside you and not fear losing you to war.
Aragorn is quiet comfort. The kind that settles around you like a stream.
If you're upset, he doesn't immediately ask questions. Instead, he'll simply appear beside you.
Offering his presence first.
Words second.
Sometimes he'll sit with you beneath a tree in complete silence.
His shoulder brushing yours and his hand loosely holding yours.
Waiting until you're ready.
Aragorn is very good at grounding people. When your thoughts begin racing, he'll gently redirect your attention.
"Listen."
The wind through the leaves. A birdsong nearby. The water rippling.
Slowly bringing you back to the present.
When you're overwhelmed, he often presses his forehead lightly against yours.
A small, intimate gesture that feels somehow more comforting than a hundred words.
Pet names tend to be softer and older:
"My dear."
"Beloved."
"Meleth nin" (my love).
When you're exhausted, he becomes almost impossible to separate from.
You fall asleep beside a campfire? You'll wake with his cloak around you.
Your head somehow resting against his shoulder. His arm carefully positioned so you stayed warm through the night.
✧ Èomer
Éomer falls in love the same way he rides into battle.
Entirely...without hesitation.
Life in Rohan means freedom. Open skies and golden grasslands.
The thunder of horses across endless fields.
And he wants to share all of it with you.
Horse rides become dates. Not gentle strolls.
Full speed races across the plains while both of you laugh into the wind. He's playful in ways people don't expect.
"Race me."
A teasing smile.
"Again."
"No excuses this time."
He's also surprisingly affectionate.
His arm around your shoulders. Pulling you onto his lap during feasts. Brushing kisses against your forehead when he thinks nobody is watching.
Family matters deeply to him. So once he loves you, you're part of his people.
When worries weigh heavily on him, he seeks comfort in your presence.
Sometimes that means talking.
Sometimes it means sitting together beneath the stars while his hand remains wrapped around yours.
He loves seeing you wear colors of Rohan. The sight never fails to make him smile.
And every time he returns safely from battle, his first thought is finding you. His second is holding you.
Éomer acts tough....until you're upset.
Then suddenly he's all soft edges.
If somebody hurt your feelings? He's offended on your behalf.
Genuinely offended.
"Who said that?"
You can practically see him preparing for battle.
Éomer isn't naturally gifted with emotional conversations.
His instinct is to fix things.
So when he can't fix your sadness, he settles for staying close.
Very close.
Expect strong arms around your shoulders. Expect being pulled against his side. Expect him refusing to let you sit alone.
When you're particularly clingy, he'll grin and tease you.
"Comfortable there?"
As you're practically attached to him.
But the truth?
He's delighted. His favorite place for you is nearby.
His pet names feel very Rohirrim:
"Little bird."
"Bright one."
"Golden girl." (especially if sunlight catches your hair)
And if you're half asleep after a long ride?
He absolutely carries you.
No discussion.
You wake up wrapped in blankets while he's looking entirely too pleased with himself.
✧ faramir
Being loved by Faramir feels sooo safe.
Like sunlight filtering through leaves.
Unlike his brother, Faramir tends to keep his emotions hidden from most people.
But never from you. You become the person who sees every side of him.
The thoughtful scholar...the brave captain.
The dreamer who spends far too much time gazing at the stars.
Faramir loves conversations.
Long ones...
The kind that begin at sunset and somehow continue until dawn.
He wants to know your thoughts. Your fears. Your hopes. Every story you've never told anyone else.
Books become shared experiences.
So do songs.
So do quiet afternoons spent doing absolutely nothing together.
He's incredibly attentive. If you mention liking a flower once, he'll remember. If you mention a favorite poem, he'll find a copy. If you have a difficult day, he'll notice before you say a word.
His affection is soft but constant.
Brushing your knuckles with his thumb.
Pressing a kiss to your hand.
Resting his forehead against yours after long separations.
Faramir never makes you feel like an obligation. Never makes you feel forgotten.
When he looks at you, you have his complete attention. And perhaps the most beautiful thing about loving him is this:
For someone who has spent so much of his life overlooked, misunderstood, or compared to others—
he never makes you feel anything less than cherished.
Faramir is devastatingly gentle.
When you're upset, he treats your feelings as though they're glass.
If you start crying, he immediately takes your hands in his.
Both of them. Holding them securely while giving you his full attention.
His expression softens instantly.
"There is no need to hide from me."
And somehow that makes you cry even harder.
Faramir listens...truly listens.
Not waiting for his turn to speak and not trying to solve everything.
Simply hearing you.
When you need reassurance, he'll brush his thumb across your knuckles and remind you of every good thing he sees in you.
Every brave thing.
Every kind thing.
Every beautiful thing.
His pet names are incredibly sweet:
"Sweetling."
"Beloved."
"Fair one."
And occasionally...
"My star."
If you've had a difficult day, you'll often find him reading beside you while your head rests in his lap.
One hand turning pages. The other absentmindedly combing through your hair.
Neither of you speaking. Neither of you needing to.
Just enjoying the rare peace of being together.
✧ Fellowship bonus
— Boromir is a soft, silent lover. He'll hold you, sure. But he's not going to talk much while doing it. That's just his love language.
— Aragorn quietly makes room for you beside him. He's not loud with his affection, his body language on the other hand is.
— Éomer acts smug for five minutes and then cuddles you. Teasing banter between you two is only natural.
— Faramir was already halfway through comforting you before you realized you needed comfort.
MY WORK IS MY OWN AND I HAVE OWNERSHIP OF MY CREATIONS. DO NOT STEAL, COPY OR REPOST!
Could we have a Maeglin with the Non-Binary flag pretty please <33 It's my first pride month out of the gender closet
Happy first pride out :)
I know there are some other Maeglin requests down there but I will see tomorrow if I have the time/energy to go through them, as there are around a hundred of them
I had to draw the boy😌
Art by megatruh
So the thing is, people who only read fic on AO3 are missing out.
AO3 is great! It’s the curated secondhand boutique of the fanfiction world. The tag system largely makes the experience very pleasant. You can walk in with a specific desire and, more often than not, leave with exactly or something very close to what you came for.
But the other sites have charm too!
Fanfiction.net is Goodwill or one of the other large corporately owned thrift store chains where the lighting is terrible and nothing is organized the way a human being would organize it, but sometimes you find a perfectly good wool coat for eight dollars and the whole miserable experience feels justified.
Tumblr fic is Facebook Marketplace, where your community and your luck determine everything and sometimes someone is selling exactly what you want, but you are mostly at the mercy of whatever crosses your path.
Wattpad is a Plato’s Closet in a dying mall, aggressively of its time, full of fast fashion, popular in a way that makes you feel ninety years old, and occasionally something good is wedged between two pieces of nonsense and you remember why people keep going in.
Quotev is the type of bin store that suggests you bring gloves for your own protection, but fuck!!!! Finding a good fic there feels like finding vintage designer in perfect condition stuffed at the bottom of the bins.
LiveJournal is an estate sale where halfway through rifling around you get the very specific feeling that you are digging through a dead person’s things. Dreamwidth is also an estate sale, but the owner is alive and milling around somewhere in the back.
Old forum fic in general is the church rummage sale where the organization only makes sense to the people who have been volunteering since 2004 and every once in a while someone has put a pristine binder full of original Pokémon cards out for five dollars.
Personal websites and independent archives are yard sales. You either stop every single time, do the slow drive-by looky-look to gauge the quality, or never stop at all.
DeviantArt fic is the kids’ section of a garage sale where the parents let the kids decide the prices, so everything is either fifty cents for broken ugly toys they hate or fifty dollars for broken ugly toys they love.
Discord fic that never leaves the server it is posted in is your friend showing you a jacket, letting you borrow it, and then making you give it back.
Reddit fic is finding clothes at a pawn shop, which is not where you’re supposed to get clothes and most pawn shops don’t even have clothes, but when in Rome and given lemons, are you really going to say you’re too good to make lemonade?
Patreon fic is a vintage store where the owner knows it’s vintage. The lighting is nice, the caption cards are tasteful, and the prices defeat the purpose of buying used.
ROBERT ARAMAYO as ELROND THE RINGS OF POWER

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KING THRANDUIL + ART (PART TWO)
Monaca di Monza by Giuseppe Penuti Constance Collier as Pallas Athene by Charles Buchel Secret Accusation (Accusa segreta) by Francesco Hayez Bust of Christ (Head of Christ) by Rembrandt Medea by Charles-Antoine Coypel Portrait Study of a Youth by Théodore Géricault Scène du Massacre des Innocents by Léon Cogniet Bildnis einer jungen Frau by Friedrich Leon Pohle Joan of Arc Entering Orléans by Jean-Jacques Scherrer Joan of Arc by Sir John Gilbert Young Woman in a Black Dress by Titian
six blonde bisexuals (bar hikaru) for pride
my faves r usually blonde and bisexual so i had too many choices for this