Sep 11, 2024
Hullo! Can I put in a Finrod/BĂ«or request if that would be something you'd like to smol?
Day #75 - Finrod/BĂ«or
10/10 ship, very stackable.
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Hullo! Can I put in a Finrod/BĂ«or request if that would be something you'd like to smol?
Day #75 - Finrod/BĂ«or
10/10 ship, very stackable.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
for the character asks....bëor?
@eilinelsghost || send a character meme || accepting
First impression
He's fine.
Impression now
He's fine. (I'm sorry! I know he's one of your faves, but he's never inspired any particularly strong feelings in me.)
Favorite moment
I don't really have one, sorry. đ
Idea for a story
An exploration of his feelings regarding the name BĂ«or. (See below)
Unpopular opinion
Gotta be honest, I have no idea which opinions on this guy are popular/unpopular. The strongest opinion I have about him is that I feel the same way about the name BĂ«or as I do about the names of Ulfang & Co. and Bor & Co., which is that I think it's indicative of a certain type of Elven arrogance that these Men went down in history not by the names they were given at birth, but rather by names that describe their relationships with particular Elves.
Favorite relationship
Finrod
Favorite headcanon
I don't actually have any, so I'm going to link to this art by @wanderer-clarisse instead, because it's relevant and I think it's wonderful.
For the first sentence prompts! || The sash rippled as he drew it through his fingers, silken and supple, and something in the touch eased his lingering disquiet.
ooo thank you! what an evocative sentence. let's give it a go
The sash rippled as he drew it through his fingers, silken and supple, and something in the touch eased his lingering disquiet. It had been his father's, during his days as king; the blue-and-silver embroidery in the colors of their house. He had not worn it to that last battle, knowing his own Doom and thinking it too fine to be lost.
So Fingon would wear it. Let his father's silk be with him, his father's colors, his father's men, his father's lost hope; he would show them all victory. The day was coming, and the battle with it.
send me one sentence and i'll write the next five!
Rating: E Relationships: Finrod/BĂ«or Characters: Finrod, BĂ«or Word Count: 4162
âIt ties well, I see.â Balan anchored the standing end to a sconce on the wall, then stepped back to admire his handiwork with a grin. âWeâll set that as a mark in its favor.â
âTraitor!â NĂłm was laughing despite the look of comic betrayal and he tugged futilely against the knots. âSet me loose.â
âNay, art thou not bound to thy work till itâs done? Far be it from me to draw thee from it ere the flax is tested.â
When the weight of duty threatens to crush him, Balan is ever his comfort.
For the WIP guessing game!
"dearest" ?? đ
(WIP guessing game)
hahaha I'm so predictable. here's a tiny exchange from the WIP known as reunionfic:
âKĂĄno,â Maedhros breathed. Here, now, was what he had been dreading. What could he say? How could he fix this? âDearest.â âDo not call me that,â Maglor said. He looked away from Maedhros, out to the Sea. âYour deeds showed plainly enough that it was not true.â
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
Free to watch âą No registration required âą HD streaming
I am utterly blown away by the fic @eilinelsghost has conjured from my original TRSB sketchâ I'll be posting a few teasers of the art and snippets from her fic during this week leading up to full reveals of both on Sept 9th:
Thus were our people born from the Darkness, our tale called up from the Silence. Remember its measure and call out its rhythm: We are the sum of the parts of the world. We are the meeting of earth and of water. We are the fire and light. Ours, the song of the Dark. AnĂĄrion filled his lungs as he finished reading. He had not realized he was holding back his breath until he reached the end of the page and found himself as short of it as the clay figures rising from the text. There was something wild and visceral about these tales that set his heart burning. We are the sum of the parts of the world.
Oooo how about Ilimbë and questions 3 and 8 for the ask game?
(fic ask game)
3: Whatâs your favorite line of narration?
Ooooh there are many! Iâm so proud of IlimbĂ«. But I think itâs got to be the kiss:
It took him a moment to respond, but then he found he was kissing Nerdanel back and it was the easiest, most familiar thing in the world; her messy curls were brushing his face and one of her strong sure hands had travelled down to rest against the small of his back and there was nothing that had ever been more real than the warmth of her pressed against him; she was certainty itself, as solid as marble, no crafted thing to be shaped and changed, but a maker and a preserver and a promise of forever; and her mouth on his was hot and sweet and golden as the taste of a Laurelin-ripened peach.
8: Did any real people or events inspire any part of it?
The genesis of IlimbĂ« was my thoughts on parenthood, and motherhood, and my evergreen fascination with Maedhrosâ mother-name and what it said about Nerdanel. I think some of my thoughts on my own relationship with my mother came through here, although she is a significantly better (and better-adjusted) mother than this version of Nerdanel is going to be.
The wonderful descriptions in @eilinelsghost's fic for my TRSB art has in turn conjured so many images in my mind, so I am very excited to share a little more of her marvellous TRSB fic AtanatĂĄrissĂ« with you, which features glimpses of a few key moments in time for some of my favourite Edain characters (who justly deserve so much more love and attention than they usually receive, imo â see my tags), linked through time by a book of ancient Edain lore:
Slowly her eyes moved out over the rest of the spread. It was decorated throughout with a trail of rough drawings, each leading into each, and the spaces between were filled with tight clusters of words. The central of these sketches showed a man seated upon a hilltop, his knees drawn up and his body depicted in shadow. Before him knelt a second figure, seeming to brim forth with light through the lines of the illustration. This held the face of the first within its hands and the scribbled stars above were marked with lines showing their passage while the figures sat in stillness beneath them. It was haunting, rough as the style was rendered, and Andreth felt a new shiver move through her, only this came up from the base of her gut and radiated out through every vein.