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echo-bleu · 11 months

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For the word game: colours (or just any sort of colour like blue, gold, etc.)!😃

As for thé fandom take whichever you want, all Echo words are good words after all.😊

Oooh colours are fun, thank you!

I don't seem to use the word "colour" much. I found one instance of "discoloured". It's also a bit of a cheat because it's not exactly a fic, it's a bullet-point list of headcanons about Noldor hairstyles where I'm trying (and failing) to be funny, but it also has some gold!

(Looks like I can't have bullet points inside a quote format. Also light warnings for uh capture and trauma and PTSD)

The Sun has just risen and Fingon’s golden ribbons are really blinding, no one can even look at him.

Listen, they haven’t had proper light in about forty years, they’re really light-sensitive now.

Everyone argues, Fingon makes at least two attempts to sneak out to Thangorodrim but he’s caught because he’s just way too shiny.

Third time’s the charm.

The only reason Maedhros doesn’t see him before he hears him is that he’s even more light-sensitive and just keeps his eyes closed. Also he’s tired. So very tired.

In Angband, Sauron took great pleasure in hacking Maedhros’s hair off and messing with it. When he’s rescued, what has regrown is a tangled, discoloured mess and they have to cut it all off.

Fingon stays with Maedhros a lot throughout his (physical) recovery, which in my mind takes at least the 55 years between his rescue and Dagor Aglareb, and he braids Maedhros’s hair every day, even at the start when it’s barely past his ear. Eventually Maedhros stops fighting and crying when someone touches his hair.

Mostly.

More gold from a Silmarillion WIP about Celebrían meeting Fingon:

The one before her now, sitting with his legs crossed on what isn’t quite a throne, but isn’t quite not, features in many of the stories she’s heard. So many, in fact, that it is hard to believe them all true. His face is more regal than any king Celebrían has met, and she has met rather more than her share, if she counts the beleaguered kings of dwindling Arnor. The gold woven in his long braids and embroidered on his blue robes outsets the silky brown of his skin, adorned with many earrings and piercings. The thin chain joining his eyebrow with his earlobe catches the light when his eyes meet hers. Celebrían bows deeply. “Cousin, you need not bow to me,” Fingon says with a kind smile.

Here's a blue from the next part of for all the things that drum (Witcher):

The thing about manipulating time, Renfri realizes as she and Julian casually walk through the front door, is that it makes things too easy. It puts her on edge. Her own powers are fickle and difficult to control. They come to her in visions, mostly, dreams that she struggles to interpret. Impressions. She moves right, and gets a sudden flash of moving left instead, a chain of reactions. Sometimes she’s quick enough to change course. Sometimes she can’t care enough. Since Julian came to her in the forest outside Blaviken, each of her steps are shadowed. The bite of a dagger against her throat, a pair of yellow eyes not leaving her back. Whatever it is that the Black Sun did to her, it knows that she erred, that she stepped away from the planned program. She can see the girl better in her dreams, too. Tangled blond hair dirtied with mud and dried leaves. A tattered blue cloak. Screams. Chaos.

And this bit of left you behind just standing there (where a 20yo Ciri goes to find Jaskier, who disappeared after the mountain) has a lot of colours! (well, three)

“What do the waters do?” Jaskier unlocks the front door. It leads into a roofless square courtyard, with covered galleries running all around and a stone fountain in the middle. The floor is a huge mosaic of a sunflower, centred around the fountain, from which flows a slow trickle of brown water. “It contains mud that soothes many skin conditions, and some kind of minerals that are good for joint inflammation. I don’t know the details, to be honest. I just know that it works.” He leads Ciri down one of the galleries to another door. This one opens into a large, high-ceilinged room with and giant stained-glass windows projecting blue and green reflections everywhere. The floor is also tiled, but a series of three pools are carved into the stone foundation. The one closest to the door holds brown, almost opaque water, while the other two are mostly clear. The far wall displays a ten-foot long mosaic depicting what looks like a family of mermaids. Light steam rises from the pools, and the room is agreeably warm.

#echo's fanfiction #left you behind just standing there #for all the things that drum #noldor hair headcanons #witcher #silmarillion #jaskier #cirilla of cintra #celebrian #fingon #maedhros

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smaidjor · 2 years

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I posted 2,058 times in 2021

564 posts created (27%)

1494 posts reblogged (73%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 2.6 posts.

I added 770 tags in 2021

#fin rambles - 289 posts

#self rb - 93 posts

#last life spoilers - 92 posts

#ok to rb - 81 posts

#fin answers - 54 posts

#empires smp - 42 posts

#scott smajor - 36 posts

#last life smp - 28 posts

#fin rants - 28 posts

#undescribed - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#like ik its due to the fact that its a minecraft rp but the lmanburg system of government is like 'we have a president :) he makes choices'

My Top Posts in 2021

i always know when twitter is being nasty even though i dont have it because my mutuals all start spamming scott appreciation (as they should) and i just join in

350 notes • Posted 2021-09-28 20:13:40 GMT

thinking about how the statue thats supposedly a deer god/protector spirit offered no protection when scott was being chased by xornoth....

thinking about how scott said the guy who he's the reincarnation of combined his powers with aeor....

anyways so who wants to hop on the newest scott headcanon bandwagon: scott is actually just aeor.

that's the reason his kingdom hasn't been protected from xornoth by aeor; aeor has no real power anymore. neither does exor. the reincarnations of their former followers, scott and xornoth, are now the true gods. and xornoth has learned to use their power....while scott hasn't.

366 notes • Posted 2021-08-25 04:42:03 GMT

On Elven Royalty, Hair Ribbons, and the Impact of High King Smajor on Elven Culture (Emptober Day 4: Ribbon)

An essay submitted by a human student in the Cod Empire, many hundreds of years after the death of King Jimmy Solidarity, on the topic of elven culture.

Yes, this is formatted in proper MLA style.

Yes, I hate myself for that as much as you hate me for it.

Wordcount: 912

Content warnings: none.

Actual fic under the cut:

Josh Gelnam

8/4/3021

Professor Culelen

Elven Culture and History

Section 2

On Elven Royalty, Hair Ribbons, and the Impact of High King Smajor on Elven Culture

Hair ribbons are a longstanding elven tradition that has carried through multiple centuries, possibly millennia. Elves will wear hair ribbons to festivals and parties, but also to funerals and even into battle. Though seemingly impractical, the tradition is incredibly significant in elven culture, as it has persisted for generations. (Some scholars even say it began in Valinor, homeland of the elves, though there is no definitive evidence of this.)

Experts are unaware of exactly when or where the tradition of braiding ribbons through hair started, though reports of this have been traced all the way back to King Fingon the Valiant, High King of the Noldor in the First Age of Arda. Though not all elves have always observed this, there are descriptions and records of hair ribbons in some form from every era of the elves, and many different peoples. Noldor, Vanyar, Sindar, and even Silvan elves have been recorded as wearing these adornments, though wood-elves less commonly so than high-elves. In the modern day, both major elven kingdoms retain this tradition.

The ribbons themselves have been crafted from a wide variety of materials, and what is most common varies by the type of elf, their social status/wealth, and the Age they were born in. In the First Age, for example, High King Fingon was observed to wear hair ribbons which had pure gold woven into the fabric. This would be fitting for his status as king, and makes sense for Noldorin culture in that era, which was heavily focused around smithing and other forms of artistry. Noldor royalty would continue to imitate this for some time, but the practice fell out of favor with High King Smajor of Rivendell.

King Smajor was said to be an unusual elvenking in many ways, and his style reflected this. While in the early years of his kingship he wore traditional golden ribbons, in later years he is said to have worn flower crowns and roughly woven brown and green fabrics instead. This seemingly strange choice nonetheless began a trend towards less traditional materials in elven fashion that lasted for centuries afterwards. As a whole, King Smajor was vastly influential in the shift in elven culture in the early Sixth Age.

As the second prince, or ‘spare heir’, King Smajor was not expected to become the High King. However, Prince Xornoth disappeared from public view in 1240 Sixth Age, and their younger twin succeeded the throne instead. At first seen as mannish and incompetent, King Smajor was widely disliked by the elven court when he first ascended. However, as champion of Aeor and the only remaining heir to the house of Elrond Peredhel, he was the only candidate for the throne. Despite the unhappiness of many advisors, he retained the throne for many centuries to come.

Some of the most notable change accomplished during this era includes the end of the Conflict of the Great Stags, the opening of Rivendell’s borders for trade, and the first ever adopted heir of the elves. King Smajor, Champion of Aeor, made peace with Prince Xornoth, Champion of Exor, and ended what was at the time thought to be an eternal cycle of conflict. He also allied with many mortal kingdoms and rulers, including Queen Lizzie Shadowlady of the Ocean Empire, Queen Katherine of the Overgrown, Count Fwhip of the Grimlands, and most notably Codfather Jimmy Solidarity of the Cod Empire. Though the exact nature of his relationship with the Codfather remains unknown, many historians have speculated that they were lovers. The green and brown hair ribbons that King Smajor was fond of (green and brown being thematic colors of the Cod Empire), would seem to support this theory.

Though he was an unusual king, there is no doubt that King Smajor was also an incredibly influential one. Not only did elven fashion change in a direct response to his untraditional choices, the culture of the elves also began a huge shift around this time. Where before, elves had been famously isolationist and kept almost entirely to themselves, during King Smajor’s rein, their trade and interactions with other empires increased drastically. Additionally, elven royalty had long valued blood relation above all other forms, but with the adoption of the future High Queen Mirnen, this began to change.

Today, elven hair ribbons take countless forms, from rough cotton and strings of twine to fine silks and even traditional woven metal. Dyes are made from the many flowers of the Overgrown and even certain kinds of terracotta from Mezalea. Woven copper from Pixandria has become popular in recent years, and the Ocean Empire makes its contribution in tiny pieces of sea glass that are sometimes sewn onto hair ribbons and other elven clothing. Where once, Rivendell had a tradition of blue, white, and gold, there is now a whole rainbow of color, and much of that is due to the un-elven elf king: High King Smajor of Rivendell.

Works Cited:

Falashithiel, Dindraug. Elven Fashion in the Sixth Age . Rivendell Publishing, 2998 Sixth Age.

Silornion, Quentur. “Elven Hair Ribbons: Origins and History.” Historia Ellon , vol. 14, no. 6, 1581 Fifth Age, pp. 176-180.

Marison, Iaglin. “The Unelven Elf-King: An Exploration of High King Smajor’s Rulership and the Impacts Thereof.” Journal of Interempire Politics , vol. 7, no. 24, 2241 Sixth Age, pp. 34-48.

508 notes • Posted 2021-10-04 21:53:24 GMT

finished scotts episode and immediately knew i HAD to make some rivendell citizen memes

[image description: the woman yelling at cat meme with the text "my cousin demanding to know why the corruption is still in rivendell" over the woman and "elf king scottsmajor building a cute tunnel for his date with the codfather" over the cat. End image description.]

[image description: a car swerving onto an offramp. the main freeway is labelled "doing our work". The offramp is labelled "gossiping about king smajors relationship with the codfather". End ID.]

See the full post

606 notes • Posted 2021-09-26 04:07:35 GMT

ive probably said this before but what the FUCK does the hermitcraft server run on. how is this thing so unkillable i break sugarcane and get lag and fuckin. grian hermitcraft creates a million boats specifically to lag the server and still gets more frames than ive ever had

702 notes • Posted 2021-11-08 18:59:26 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review #pls why is my top post that #long post

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elesianne · 7 years

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A Silmarillion fanfic, chapter 1

I’ve written a lot of stuff during the last week but this is the first thing I completed, so have a bit of Maedhros/Fingon!

(Also posted on AO3)

Summary: Fingon and Maedhros can't declare their love publicly, but in private they find many ways to celebrate their devotion to each other.

And things like colours and emblems are important for elf lords.

Chapter 1 summary: Two young lovers celebrate their first anniversary, open with their affections behind closed curtains.

Tag-type thingies: rating: Mature audiences; relationships: Maedhros/Fingon; some keywords: romance, secret relationship, some humour, light fluff, making out, implied sexual content

A/N:I had the idea for this fic when making plans for anniversary celebrations with my boyfriend, though we are no Noldor princelings and thus celebrated our anniversary somewhat differently from Maedhros and Fingon.

This fic is fairly light-hearted and humorous, and probably the sexiest thing I've written so far? Still nothing explicit, because if I'm working my way towards writing smut one day, I'm doing it very slowly.

Your colours

Tirion on a summer's day during Years of the Trees

The first kiss of the night is breathless for both Maitimo and Findekáno, if for different reasons. Findekáno is breathless after running across the garden and climbing up a tree and then jumping to Maitimo's window, and Maitimo is breathless just out of anticipation and worry.

'I'm always worried you're going to fall. I know you have been climbing trees all your life, but what if one day your jump is too short?' Maitimo whispers against Findekáno's lips, unwilling to let go of the kiss but also feeling a need to make his concerns known.

Findekáno entwines his hands in Maitimo's hair, long and red and left to flow freely down Maitimo's back just like Findekáno likes. 'Then my screaming while I fall will scare your baby brothers and the unholy racket they will undoubtedly make will allow me to make a swift and undignified exit from your parents' garden, picking out thorns from my backside.'

'I had the rosebush moved away from under my window, there are no thorns there now', Maitimo says distractedly as Findekáno's strong fingers massage his scalp to relax him.

'So you've even taken precautions! All is well.'

Findekáno pulls Maitimo in for another kiss but Maitimo opens his mouth to speak at that very moment, and the kiss turns to spluttering.

'What now?' Findekáno sighs, his patience fraying.

'What if you don't fall on your backside, what if you fall on your head–

'My head has sustained worse than a fall into a soft flowerbed from the second floor. It can withstand a lot, you know that. Just like my backside.' Findekáno wiggles a brow, and Maitimo cannot help but blush and chortle at the terrible innuendo.

'Now, if we are done with your fussing, let's move on to more pleasant matters.' Findekáno bends down to pick up a parcel he dropped in his hurry to kiss Maitimo.

Maitimo wants to protest the word 'fussing' but before he can do so, Findekáno is passing the parcel to him.

'What's this?' Maitimo turns it in his hands. Whatever it is, it is light and soft, wrapped in linen and tied with a golden ribbon like the ones in Findekáno's hair.

'An anniversary gift.' Findekáno's smile is uncharacteristically diffident.

'Anniversary of what?' Maitimo asks, the dread of having forgotten something important creeping in.

'The day you finally let me kiss you.' Findekáno shrugs with a studied nonchalance that fools few, and never Maitimo.

'Oh', is all that Maitimo can think to say.

It had been a rainy day and the drops of water in Findekáno's hair sprayed onto Maitimo's face when Findekáno whirled around and kissed Maitimo after Maitimo admitted in half-choked words that he wanted it as much as Findekáno did. Findekáno had already been turning away from him, about to give up on persuading his cousin that it was all right to act on the feelings they shared.

Now every time it rains, Maitimo remembers that first kiss, the smell of summer rain in the air and the coolness of Findekáno's skin that soon turned to searing heat as they kissed like their hearts would break if they stopped clinging to each other…

But Maitimo hadn't remembered that today is the anniversary of that day, and he feels terrible. 'I'm so sorry, Finno, I don't have anything for you.'

'It's all right, I know you've been absurdly busy lately', Findekáno says, and his smile convinces Maitimo that he means it. 'Your gift to me will be seeing you wearing my gift.'

Brows raised, Maitimo begins to unravel the gold ribbon. Wrapped in the linen is a garment of much finer fabric, finest silk that flows through Maitimo's fingers like water, cool and smooth.

It is a dressing robe, beautiful and luxurious, perfect for lazy summer days – not that Maitimo has much time to laze around – and it is a deep blue, like the sapphires Findekáno's father is fond of, with gold trimming at the sleeves and collar and a golden sash.

'It's in your colours.' Maitimo strokes the fine fabric. Blue for Nolofinwë, and gold for Findekáno himself; these are the colours Findekáno has chosen as his own.

Findekáno nods, his gaze intense. 'Put it on.'

A year has been just about enough to make Maitimo able to strip in front of his lover without getting self-conscious. The way Findekáno looks at him in those moments, or how eager he is to do it himself, makes Maitimo feel more worthy of his mother-name than any amount of praise from others ever could.

This time Findekáno doesn't rush to tear off Maitimo's clothes; he closes the heavy curtains and then leans against a wall and watches, the warm flickering light of candles reflected in his eyes.

It feels like such a waste to put on clothes when he is looking at me like that, Maitimo reflects, but Findekáno asked, so he pulls on the new robe as soon as he has shed his old clothes.

Maitimo glances at the mirror on the far wall. He is not used to seeing himself in this shade of blue, and the contrast between the deep colour and his pale, freckled skin and reddish hair is startling. He ties the sash and considers going to take a closer look at his reflection. But this moment is for Findekáno, not for himself, so he clears his throat and asks, 'Does it look like you thought it would?'

'It looks even better than I imagined.' Finally Findekáno comes to Maitimo and touches him, glides his fingertips across his silk-covered chest. Maitimo shivers when his lover presses his hand over Maitimo's heart; surely Findekáno can feel how it races, and the hardening of a nipple when fingers pass over it caressingly.

'You are very beautiful', Findekáno tells Maitimo.

'Thank you', says Maitimo who has learned that this is the right way to answer; objecting or demurring will only make Findekáno unhappy. 'So is the robe. Thank you for that too, Finno.'

'I'm really glad you like it', Findekáno murmurs and slides his hands down Maitimo's arms now, feeling muscles shift beneath the silk as Maitimo fights to stay still in his excitement.

'It is very short, though', Maitimo observes to distract himself from how marvellous Findekáno's touch feels even through the fabric. He looks down at his knees that the robe leaves bare. 'Shouldn't you have learnt by now how tall I am?'

'Oh, believe me, after a year of standing on my toes to kiss you, I know exactly how tall you are, and I also know how much I like looking at your well-shaped legs.'

Maitimo's lips barely have time to curve into a smile before Findekáno rises up on his toes once again. Maitimo gives up on the smile and gives all of himself to Findekáno instead, stepping closer so their bodies are flush against each other, and he bends his head so Findekáno doesn't have to stretch so much and twines his arms around Findekáno's waist. Findekáno holds him just as tight, his hands again gently twisting in auburn hair, his lips firm and warm and wonderful on Maitimo's.

Their relationship is forbidden and secret, still fairly new too, and sometimes Maitimo fears that it is fragile, but Findekáno himself is solid and strong, and steady and safe, and Maitimo never doubts a thing when Findekáno holds him.

'I love wearing your colours', he breathes when they finally break the kiss. 'I hate knowing that I will have to keep this beautiful robe hidden most of the time.'

'I know, darling. I hate it too.' Findekáno plays with Maitimo's hair, drawing long locks to flow down the front of the blue robe, enjoying the contrast in colours, and guiding Maitimo towards the bed with gentle nudges at the same time. 'But I think you don't always mind secrecy so much. I'm fairly confident that on a few occasions you have burnt all the hotter for knowing that we might be discovered in a compromising position.'

Aware that Findekáno is trying to raise his spirits, Maitimo makes a show of protesting. 'That is an outrageous accusation, Finno. I really can't remember any such occasions.'

'There was that dinner party in uncle Arafinwë's house where we told everyone that we would go to a tavern together afterwards while our families went home and instead we snuck into a guest bedroom and the lock wouldn't work but you still let me have you on top of that counterpane aunt Eärwen was so proud of embroidering–'

'I didn't want to be discovered; I stuck a chair under the door handle!'

'You didn't choose a very sturdy chair.' Findekáno grins and slides his hands up Maitimo's thighs and under the hem of the robe, a movement made easy by the robe being indecently short. Maitimo's breath catches, and Findekáno drawls, 'Come now, Russandol dear, admit that you burnt hot for me that night.'

'Oh, Valar', replies Maitimo at first, to what Findekáno's hands are doing, and then to his words, 'I always burn for you.'

'Unyielding tonight, are you, unwilling to admit I'm right? I will persuade you to see things my way.' Findekáno draws his hands up and pushes Maitimo on to the bed.

Maitimo falls back happily and settles on the pleasantly cool sheets. Feeling wanton, he spreads his legs and beckons Findekáno to join him. 'Come here so I can take your clothes off.'

'Quicker if I do it myself', says Findekáno and proceeds to do so while Maitimo laughs, delighting in the mingling of happiness and desire that fills him.

When Findekáno joins him on the bed, kneels between his legs and begins to undo the golden sash of the blue robe, Maitimo draws his hands away.

'I want to have your gift, your colours, on me when you take me', he tells Findekáno and watches his beloved's eyes darken.

'That is more than I dared to hope, and exactly what I meant when I said seeing you wearing this would be your gift to me', Findekáno says hoarsely.

Maitimo takes his hand and pulls him closer, always closer, as close as they can be.

Later, when they are curled up together and the robe is draped over them both like an decadent, impractical blanket, Maitimo whispers, 'I still feel a little bad I didn't get you anything.'

'You do that another time, my love', Findekáno murmurs sleepily and settles his head more comfortably in the crook between Maitimo's neck and shoulder. 'Now I need to sleep off winning this anniversary.'

A/N: People who have read a lot of my stuff may have noticed that I'm sort of giving in to spelling the Quenya voiceless velar plosive with a k rather than c in names where k is the convention, because it is the sensible thing to do. But I will never spell Maglor's father-name Canafinwë with a k because I don't want to turn him into a chicken, so I will continue to spell everyone's names with c in fics where he appears.

There will be a second chapter; it is shorter and takes place many years later in Beleriand.

Thank you for reading! I appreciate feedback very much :)

#another thing that i probably should have edited more extensively #but again i really wanted to get something posted #how fingon and maedhros celebrate anniversaries #your colours #silmarillion fanfiction #fingon #maedhros #russingon #fingros #silmarillion #tolkien #tolkien fanfiction #romance #my fics #elesianne's fics

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