lamemaster

[lamemaster]

Loving the Maelstrom

Pairing: Maedhros x Reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: Perks of marrying a writer. Nelyafinwe pov.

AN: Istg I get the most random ideas while working out.

Curvo bounced the fussing Tyelpe in his arms, his brow furrowed in concern. "What's wrong with her?" he asked, his voice laced with worry.

Maitimo sighed for the what felt like the hundredth time that evening. He glanced across the room at you, your face lit by the flickering firelight. A vicious smirk was etched upon your lips, your eyes gleaming with an unsettling intensity as you stared into some unseen distance. "She's writing a villainess," he muttered under his breath, more to himself than anyone else.

The murmur seemed to quench everyone's curiosity, at least momentarily. Except for Tyelkormo, who perked up at the revelation. "A villainess?" he echoed, his eyes wide with fascination. "Is that why Kano's been playing such… ominous tunes lately?" he asked, directing his question towards a very tired-looking Nelyafinwe.

Before Nelyafinwe could muster a reply, Moryo, ever the impatient one, interjected. "Makalaure, for the love of Illuvatar, can we please have a normal tune?" he pleaded, his voice laced with exasperation

Both you and Kano paused for a fleeting second. Your minds snapped into the present world before grinning widely and Kano launched into another melancholy somber tune. This time, accompanied by your booming evil laughter. 

Such perhaps was the fate of loving a writer. He had known it well as Kano’s brother. A songwriter and musician's angst was familiar to Maitimo. And yours was similar yet, so achingly different.

Where Kano’s music seldom bled into his life, your words lingered in a pervasive presence. The angst of separated lovers, fervor of a brewing war, or the grit of a dwindling hero, you were lost in your worlds even before Maitimo met you. 

And when he did meet you, he also met your worlds. Gay, morose, bleak, grand, your worlds were his now. Your character settled into his thoughts. And sometimes, they carried a part of him or his family. Small fragments of your life that bled into your worlds. 

He liked your never-ending ramblings about a crooked character or exceptionally hard-to-write down plot. And he witnessed your fall into the world who possessed your mind and heart. 

Despite the differences in art, you and Kano were inseparable in the creation of art. His tunes often rang out from your and Maitimo’s home as you scribbled away another tale. While Kano’s music was given a direction of melodies from the stories you wove into the tunes he tinkered around with. 

And this was the rare occasion where both you and his brother were taken by a story so bewitching that from the strums of Kano’s harp to the rouge of your lips- all was tainted with a lingering shade of sinister. 

It had been a week since your robes had been swapped for uncanny dark silken gowns, very much not your usual choice of color, your nails were painted a hue darker almost bloodlike. Even the decor of your study had shifted ambiance similar to that of the Maiar of Namo.

On several occasions, Maitimo had seen you stir your dinner with a smile so venomous that he sniffed his food twice before eating it. 

You donned a gait so seductive that he, almost was tempted to discard the weekly family dinner with his parents. Yet, despite the unease that gnawed at him, Maitimo couldn't deny the jolt of excitement that shot through him when your newly painted nails, tipped with a crimson that seemed to mock innocence, brushed against his arm.

“I just hope sister-in-law and Kano are not going down the Mairon route of life.” Curufin’s words brought Maitimo back to the present. 

The dinner had ended surprisingly well. Kano’s company had perhaps allowed you to shed the world that captivated you these days for a few moments. You were back to your normal self smiling by his side. Helping his mother and brothers set up the dinner table as twins climbed all over Maitimo.

It was only later in the night when his breath shuddered. He gasped as your lips ghosted over his ears. Filthy words spoken without a care of the oddly lonely alley on the way back to your home. Words so daringly sacrilegious that they would have sent a Vanya to the halls of Irmo. 

Maitimo however, was nothing if not immune to the intricacies of your play and definitely not a faint-hearted Vanya. Pulling you closer in his arms, he indulged your little world. Tracing the shape of your lips with his fingers, he kissed you with a wicked smile. 

Nelyafinwe loved every part of you. Even the fucking crazy ones. 

(This one definitely more than the angsty lovers)

#silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion #maedhros x reader #fluff #maglor #maedhros fluff #drabble #Caranthir #little Tyelpe

[lamemaster]

Events

Me trying to explain another elaborate event to my followers:

Okay but fr can we consider one where you chose one of your favorite ships and reader pov is one of the characters from that ship? It's like roleplaying...(Someone help me frame this event fr)

Or the request specifiies the elf of their choice and I chose one from the wheel and write a pieces.

(pls don't judge me I love events for some reason)

#event #help needed

[lamemaster]

I love this ship both romantically and platonically. I think it is so tender and loving like most characters written by Tolkien are. Beor (excuse the missing accent I am too lazy) and Finrod are an insight into how tight men and elves could have been if Arda had been umarred. If men and elves did not get estranged like they did.

"For the hearts of true Men uprise in joy to behold the true likeness of the First-born, their elder kindred; and this joy nothing evil can counterfeit" (Morgoth's Ring, 225).

(Someone pleaseee write more Finrod x Beor😭)

Finrod/Bëor doesn’t seem to be a popular ship and I wonder why! It’s right there.

Finwë proves Elves can indeed love more than once, so this doesn’t mean Finrod doesn’t love Amarië too. But just look at the facts!

Finrod appears out of nowhere like a knight in shining armor to bless and teach and spend time with Bëor and his people.

Bëor leaves behind all his people to spend the rest of his days with Finrod.

Finrod discourages Aegnor and Andreth from being together - why would he do this?? Because it wasn’t just out of knowledge of different fates. It was out of personal experience. All he feels is agony that his beloved Bëor is gone and out of his reach forever and he doesn’t want his brother to go through the same thing.

He swears his oath to Barahir and gives him his ring not just because he saved his life but because Barahir is descended directly from Bëor and looks like him.

He helps Beren not just because of the oath, but to redeem himself for his mistake in discouraging Aegnor from enjoying the time he could’ve had with Andreth, however short. With no idea what Lúthien will ultimately do, he sees her and Beren’s love as another doomed and fleeting love, but he has experienced this himself, and finally realizes it is ultimately worth any price. So he lays down his life to ensure Beren will have the chance that he had but also took from his brother.

One of the most tragic love stories in the history of Arda is right there under our noses.

#finrod #finrod felagund #beor #house of beor #tolkien legendarium #the silmarillion #first age #crying because I need this

[lamemaster]

Is 'What in the Hell is Happening Event' still ongoing?

Unfortunately no but you are welcome to send in a request for au and character you wish to read for!

#asks

[lamemaster]

Feast of Blades

TW: Blood, gore, torture (not much but mentioned)

Pairing: Sauron x Reader

Genre: Grim-dark fantasy

Summary: The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies.

Chapters: 1/ ?

AN: Very cannon divergent do not read if you don't like that ;) (unreliable narrators are lingering in this fic)

Sweat stung your eyes as your body contorted under the invisible weight. A thousand searing blisters erupted across your skin, each one a tiny scream of pain. Your bones groaned in protest, threatening to shatter under the relentless pressure. 

You could feel the claws of death prying you from the face of the Earth as it had done for all your ancestors. But you held on. You did not deserve to die yet. You will not accept whatever gift your creator held in the world beyond this one. Not until you had your revenge. 

Gritting your teeth, you bowed your head, the unforgiving earth digging into your bloodied palms. "Give me the power," you rasped, your voice hoarse with agony. "One chance. Turn me into whatever they crave the most. Make me desired by their kind and I will be their perfect weapon. I will sow discord within their ranks, bring chaos to their kingdoms. Just… let me live."

A chilling laugh echoed through the cavernous hall.  Though unseen, you felt the presence shift on its obsidian throne. "And why should I grant such a boon?" a voice like silk wrapped around razor blades slithered into the darkness.  A hint of amusement danced around the edges of the question, offering a sliver of hope amidst the despair.

"Because I cannot die," you hissed, channeling your desperation into defiance.  "Their kind fear oblivion, but I crave to destroy everything they hold dear. I need to live to repay the debt owed to my ancestors. I will burn their palaces to the ground, raze their cities to ash. Let them drown in their own fear! I cannot die, my Lord."

Sauron's chortle morphed into a chilling chuckle, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. He leaned forward, the darkness swirling around him momentarily revealing a single, glowing red eye. The knowing glint in that eye confirmed your worst fears – he remembered you.

“My lord has chosen to side with the firstborn and so have I. What makes you believe that I, will help you human?” The eye narrowed in mirth.

"The Battle of Unnumbered Tears," you spat, your voice shaking with a mixture of defiance and desperation. "A victory for Men, but not without cost. It was your humiliation, wasn't it? For failing to see the treachery in the East. You still burn with that humiliation, Lord Mairon, don't you?"

A flicker of surprise crossed Sauron's face, quickly masked by a sardonic smile. "A clever ploy, mortal," he purred. "You play on old wounds, hoping to stir rebellion in a servant who has long since accepted his place. But tell me, what makes you think I would choose your fleeting rage over the power I wield at my Lord Melkor's side?"

"And you think," he continued, his voice a silken rasp, "that I, who bore the brunt of Melkor's wrath, would stoop to further your pathetic vendetta?"  A flicker of something akin to amusement sparked in his gaze. 

Decades. It had been decades since the world had shifted beneath your feet, leaving you scrambling for purchase on the treacherous slope of survival. 

Back then, your face, unmarred by the lines of time and the etchings of despair, held the youthful confidence of a captain under Lord Ulfang. Hope, naive and bright, had fueled your journey West, following tales of a gleaming Elven prince who promised salvation for the East.

You had fought side-by-side with the Firstborn then, battling orcs, goblins, and the tide of darkness Melkor unleashed upon Middle-earth.

Wide-eyed and awestruck by the ethereal beauty of your allies, you truly believed in the stories of unity and coexistence. It was the only way, your elders had said, to secure a future for your people, to stave off the encroaching famine that gnawed at the very heart of the East.

But victory, fleeting and bittersweet, had turned to ash in your mouth. The celebrations around meager rations, a mockery of their triumph, were soon replaced by a chilling realization.

The world you fought to save, the world promised to both Men and Elves, was being stolen. The Firstborn, once allies, turned into conquerors, rewriting history with the ink of lies. The lie spread like wildfire. Treachery of the Easterlings, they called it, twisting narratives to absolve their own thirst for power. Your people, once allies, became the scapegoats in a matter of days.

The memory of Lord Ulfang's screams still echoed in the desolate chambers of your mind. Skinned alive in the cell that held you and 20 others. His body left in the cell until some in the desperation of hunger nibbled on stiff fingers. 

"They hunted us," you spat, a feral snarl twisting your features.  "Like deer in the twilight, they stalked our fields, their laughter echoing as they cut down our men.  Our women, they did not kill, but worse.  They violated them in the name of their twisted breeding programs, forcing them to bear a generation of half-elven slaves."

Your voice cracked, the memory a searing brand on your soul.  "And now, they lord over the remnants of our people, herding us into gilded cages they call cities. The Children of Eru, they proclaim themselves!  Eru who turned a deaf ear to our pleas, who allowed our homes to be burned and our families to be torn apart!" Fury choked your voice, tears welling in your eyes.

You slammed your fist against the cold stone floor, the sound echoing through the cavernous hall. "I want to burn his world!  This song of creation, this symphony of suffering – I want to silence it all!  Eru who favored the Firstborn and left us to bleed in the dust. He doesn't deserve this world, this song!"

Tears streamed down your face, a mixture of rage and despair. You lurched to your knees before Sauron's unseen throne. "I offer you more than just my mortality, Lord Mairon. I offer you my song, the song of a people wronged, a song fueled by fury. Take my life force, take my flame imperishable, and use it to forge a weapon that will shatter the foundations of Eru's creation! I offer chaos."

The coarse fabric of a cloak brushed against your cheek, the scent of pine needles and lavender filling your nostrils. A low murmur of Elvish, its melody both beautiful and alien, filled your ears. You squeezed your eyelids shut, feigning unconsciousness, as another voice, baritone and familiar, spoke.

"We couldn't just leave her there," it said, a hint of exasperation lacing the words.  "Not with Lady Aeredhel being with us."

A heavy sigh followed, and you felt the soft press of a body settling beside you.  The floor beneath you was cool and smooth, a stark contrast to the rough earth you were used to. "Is she another one of your rescues, Glorfindel?" the newcomer inquired, pronouncing the name with a touch of reverence.

Recognition jolted through you. Gondolin. Sauron had chosen Gondolin as your first target.

A cold certainty settled over you, replacing the flicker of doubt.  His motives – the machinations of a fallen Maia – did not matter.  All that mattered was the delicious sting of vengeance, the promise of seeing the world burn as brightly as the hatred that consumed you. You were a spark, a tiny ember, but fanned by the winds of your suffering, you would become an inferno.

Let Sauron play his games. Let him dangle the promise of power and destruction. You would use him, twist him to your will, until Gondolin lay in ruins and the Elven screams echoed through the halls of Eru himself. In the end, there would be only one victor: you.

Keeping your eyes squeezed shut, you strained to catch every murmur. Turgon's head.  A monstrous image filled your mind's eye, a centerpiece for the feast you would prepare for Sauron. But the feast had to begin somewhere, and a wicked smile played on your lips beneath the mask of unconsciousness.

The House of the Golden Flower. The perfect place to start. Your "magnanimous rescuer," Glorfindel, would soon learn the true cost of his misplaced kindness.

A groan escaped your lips, weak and trembling. You cracked open an eye, feigning disorientation as you met the gaze of a golden-haired Elf, who peered at you with the lingering entitlement of a savior. 

#silmarillion x reader #the silmarillion #sauron x reader #cannon divergence #angst #grim dark #glorfindel x reader #morally grey characters #unreliable narrators

[lamemaster]

This is so cute. It elicited emotions.

Day 1: childhood

#the silmarillion #makalaurë #maedhros #silmarillion epistolary

[lamemaster]

Maedhros spelled as Maidros in The Histories of Middle Earth gives me a massive ick.

Also, I love his name Russandol. He's such a cutie patootie his name has the word doll in it.

#Poll #Maedhros #Maidros #brain rot of the day

[lamemaster]

What in the Hell is Happening Event Masterlist

Thank you everyone for participating 🥰

Debt to be Repaid - Maglor - Hospital au

Lord of Tomes - Maedhros - Library au

Gods Who Kneel - Fingon - Mythology au

From One World to Another - Aegnor - Hogwarts au

The Beer Slayer - Glorfindel - College au

A Penance Unwanted - Gwindor - Timeloop au

Guard the Oak - Malbung - Prison au

Think of Turtles Dammit - Finrod - Villain x Hero au

#event #masterlist

[lamemaster]

Think of Turtles Dammit

Request: Greetings! I'm not sure if you are still doing the 'what the hell is happening?' Event but if you are, might I trouble you with a finrod request?

Pairing: Finrod x Reader

Genre: Hero x Villain au

AN: I really wanted to write Finrod so bad so thanks for requesting! This is the last request for this event so enjoy! (I love this gif)

(What in the Hell is Happening Event)

How the hell did no one recognize him? You wondered barely stifling a laugh at the elf buried in his books in the library. Blindlingly sun-spun hair, straight bridge of the nose, nimble fingers flipping through pages. 

How had no one noticed that legendary hero was beyond you? "Elves," you muttered under your breath, the amusement bubbling over into a barely audible chuckle. "For all their grace and otherworldly beauty, subtlety seems to be beyond them."

It took you one look at him passing for lectures that you recognized him, your supposed nemesis. Who by the virtue of his pure heart hoped for a mask to conceal his identity. 

You had to on several occasions tip journalists falsely to avoid, your darling nemesis’ identity getting leaked. It was easy to nudge the paparazzi to some random blonde dude with enough money to bribe them. 

Mustering a semblance of innocence, you asked, "May I sit here?" Finrod looked up, surprised. His eyes, the color of stormy skies, held a flicker of recognition that vanished as quickly as it appeared. He simply nodded, a faint smile playing on his lips. No accusation, no challenge, just a quiet acceptance.

Part of you wanted to expose him, to shatter this domestic facade and revel in the chaos. But another, quieter part, found itself oddly charmed. There was something disarming about seeing Finrod so…ordinary. Here, he wasn't the valiant hero or your supposed nemesis. Here, he was just Ingoldo, a bookish elf with a thirst for knowledge.

His fate as a hero had been sealed by a long stemming line of heroic ancestors as was yours by your villainous predecessors. It wasn’t awful but the part of it not being your choice chafed at your conscience all the time. 

Heroes seemed unbothered by it. Proud even, to be bound to a noble destiny.

Finrod, however, was different.  He questioned, he debated, even in the midst of battle. You hadn't stopped him that time he launched into a passionate diatribe about the environmental impact of plastic straws. In fact, you'd goaded him on, relishing the way his brow furrowed in genuine concern. It was infuriating, and yet...endearing.

As you stole a glance at his profile, a thought wormed its way into your mind.

Leaving your bag next to the unsuspecting hero, you decided to indulge the first impulse, a mischievous glint sparking in your eyes. A storm of playful chaos was brewing in your mind.

Minutes later, you reappeared at your seat, a triumphant grin plastered across your face. Finrod, momentarily startled by your return, looked up from his book, only to return his gaze to the pages as soon  as you settled in.

But you weren't done yet.  With a flourish, you placed your purchase on the table – a vibrantly colored bubble tea, complete with a gloriously oversized plastic straw.

You watched, barely containing your laughter, as Finrod's eyes widened. The internal monologue you knew so well played out on his face. First, surprise, then a flicker of recognition, followed by the inevitable flash of images – choking turtles, polluted oceans, the environmental apocalypse you knew he secretly worried about.

Finally, he turned to you, his lips pursed in a look of mock disapproval, a look you'd seen countless times before during your battles.

A strangled cough escaped Finrod's throat, a valiant attempt to mask the look of utter horror that had overtaken his face. No sooner had the plastic monstrosity made its debut than a flimsy paper straw materialized in his hand, offered to you with a hopeful glint in his twilight eyes.

You raised an eyebrow, feigning complete bewilderment. "Paper?" you questioned, stretching out the word as if it were some foreign concept.

Finrod's shoulders slumped in a display of utter defeat. "Paper straws are better," he mumbled, the conviction in his voice tinged with the faintest hint of disappointment.

Finrod, the bane of your existence, the embodiment of all that was good and annoying, carried paper straws in his bag. And people dared to reject them? The audacity! This was a villainous act you could not abide by.

 Only you got to annoy this hero. Finrod carried paper straws in his bag and people ought to accept them. That was the truth you lived by. No other way around it. The slight hesitation and acceptance of expected rejection did not suit Finrod.

Taking the flimsy paper straw with exaggerated reluctance, you managed to stifle a smile. 

It wasn’t the proudest moment of your villainous history when you accepted the straw. A god-awful paper straw. But no one needed to know. It was worth the smile on your hero’s face.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #finrod x reader #hero x villain au #drabble #fluff #loved writing this #what in the hell is happening

[lamemaster]

Guard the Oak

Request: I would like to request Mablung for 'Spin The Wheel ' event. 🌹🥺

Pairing: Malbung x Reader

Genre: Prison au

AN: Annon thanks for requesting! ISTG Beleg won't leave me alone today. I hope you enjoy this (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

"Not that I mind," you spoke into the silent company of the most handsome elves you'd ever seen. "But these bindings are a bit too tight, even for my twisted tastes."

They looked back at you, confusion etched on their beautiful faces. Your attempt at humor, laced with a hint of nervousness, seemed to fly right over their heads. Very silvery, well-braided heads, you noted, trying to distract yourself from the uncomfortable tightness of the ropes.

The most captivating of them all was their magnificent Captain, or whatever his title was – something your mangled Elvish failed to accurately translate. He exuded an aura of authority, his gaze sharp and assessing.  The other Elf beside you, perhaps another captain of some sort, seemed slightly less intimidating.

"A bit excessive, isn't it?" you decided to try striking up a conversation, piecing together whatever Elvish phrases you could remember. "Two captains for a petty theft?"

"He's a Captain," the one you presumed to be less high-ranking, Beleg, pointed towards the other Elf, "I am a Marchwarden." Not that the distinction held much meaning to you at the moment.

"As for the theft," he continued, his voice low and melodic, "felling trees from our sacred woods is hardly a 'little' thing."  His smile faded, replaced by a seriousness that mirrored the Captain's.

You winced internally. 

“It‘s just trees.” You shrug "They grow back, right? They're made to be used."

Malbung scoffed, a sound that surprised you coming from his usually stoic face. And then he proceeded to rock your world by replying in perfect Westeros, "Then that must justify every ill action of evil. For men are birthed to die."

Your jaw dropped. This uptight Elf not only understood your mangled Elvish, but he spoke Westron fluently as well?  "Ha!" you finally managed, a surprised laugh escaping your lips. "So the Elf speaks the tongue of Men. And speaks it well enough to compare us to trees!"

"I wouldn't dare wrong trees like that," he replied smoothly, his expression unreadable. As if on cue, a branch snagged on the elaborate braid in his hair, tugging playfully. For a split second, a look of exasperation flickered in his eyes before he schooled his features back into their usual stoicism.

"Pfft," you broke out in laughter. "I would be concerned if orcs started making furniture out of men." Your laughter echoed through the clearing, bouncing off the ancient trees. 

Beleg, next to you, seemed most put off by the Men as furniture comment. He shifted uncomfortably, his brow furrowing.

"So you are a woodworker?" he asked tentatively, his voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked at your own immature glee. "You could say that."

Malbung watched as you settled in your cell, humming a tune that was more cheerful than the situation warranted. You'd managed to barter your way down from imprisonment to a week of– planting saplings to replace the "borrowed" branches. It wasn't ideal, but it beat a cold stone floor.

"A week for a majestic oak," Malbung declared, a hint of amusement in his voice despite himself.

"And will you be overseeing the punishment, Captain?" you asked, raising an eyebrow suggestively.

"Yes," he replied, his gaze meeting yours for a beat longer than necessary.

You leaned forward, a playful glint in your eyes. "Then we shall see each other more often than a week. For I am quite fond of 'borrowing' oaks, especially the ones with captivating Elven captains guarding them."

#silmarillion x reader #Malbung x Reader #what in the hell is happening event #fluff #prison au #Beleg

[lamemaster]

A Penance Unwanted

Request: Hi!🙂 How are you? ❤️Can you please spin the wheel for Gwindor? Thanks 💝✨️

Pairing: Gwindor x Reader

Genre: Timeloop au

AN: @mairablue Thanks for requesting!! Gwindor is awesome gotta love him. Such a fun concept. (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

“God dammit! You should have held him.” You groan watching Beleg die for the 25th time. Gwindor winced next to you. And from a distance you both watched Turin lament in the same low groaning pitch for the same 25th time. 

“I couldn’t have done that!” Gwindor replied indignantly. “Beleg wouldn’t listen. Look at these arms, do you think I can stop Cuthalion? You should have killed the orcs and then hit Turin on the head or something.” 

There had been a time when Beleg’s death daunted both Gwindor and you into silence. But now, it was a recurring event. Painful but numbed by the inevitable recurrence. 

You were back at it again. Stuck in the storyline of Turin and Beleg’s tragedy. Whatever deity found this funny had a messed-up sense of humor. 

"Next time, take Beleg through a longer route," you muttered, forming yet another plan, your voice heavy with a weariness born of repetition. "I'll try to find a way to poison the orcs, and hopefully, knock Turin out before he…" You trailed off, the futility of the task gnawing at you. But giving up wasn't an option. There had to be a way to break the loop, a way to alter the story.

"I swear to god if this is damned Melkor," you muttered, waiting for the inevitable reset. For both you and Gwindor to return to the past, to relive Beleg's death, and Turin's despair.

Knocking out Beleg, setting traps, and almost battling the thought of driving your sword through the emo king of Arda. This stupid loop tested you in every way. And most of all Gwindor who, unlike you, couldn't escape the grasp of Melkor's evil. The weight of his struggle, the subtle changes in his personality with each loop, filled you with a cold dread.

“Melkor can only so long imprison the children of Illuvatar,” Gwindor replied gently. His voice- so peaceful despite the pain he witnessed every reset. Taking your hand in his he continued, “We will find a way. One way or another you will return to your world and I will come to bear my fate.” There was this amazing elf. Comforting you when the hell broke loose around him. 

There was something truly extraordinary about this elf. Here he was, trapped in an endless cycle of loss, yet he offered you comfort when the world around him crumbled.  You couldn't help but wonder if it was the same unwavering faith in the good that led to his capture in the first place. 

It wasn't the scars or marks of torture that marred his once-handsome face that hurt you most, but the sheer unfairness of it all. He, who deserved a life filled with music and laughter, was trapped in this nightmarish cycle, forced to relive his torment while offering you solace.

"It isn't me you should be comforting," you chuckled, the sound hollow even to your own ears. "This is my penance. A fate that has led me to this nightmare, a well-deserved one." You didn't remember much of your world, only flashes – the resentful faces of strangers contorted in anger, the screaming voices that echoed relentlessly in your head, driving you to the teetering edge of insanity. You remembered everything but Gwindor from the rotten book you found in your dingy cell, the only companion in your solitary confinement.

The same one who now sat beside you, his hand warm against yours, a beacon of comfort in this unending darkness. "I deserve this. You don't," you whispered, the words heavy with a self-loathing you couldn't quite explain. He, who you sometimes questioned was real or a figment conjured by your fractured mind.

No. You wouldn't accept this twisted fate. You would break the loop, not just for your own sake, but for Gwindor's. Even if it meant defying the very fabric of this story, you would find a way to free him from Melkor's clutches.

Fuck Melkor, Ocrs, Turin, Valar, Illuvatar, and his wretched song. You were going to tear it all apart.

#silmarillion x reader #what in the hell is happening event #gwindor x reader #timeloop au #Beleg #Turin

[lamemaster]

The Beer Slayer

Request: Could you do Glorfindel for the what the hell is happening event? All the situations your writing for feel so refreshing and I quite like your writing by the way!

Pairing: Glorfindel x Reader

Genre: College au

AN: Thanks for requesting!! I am glad you like my writing. (What in the Hell is Happening Event)

A throbbing headache assaulted Glorfindel the moment he woke up. The world swam before his eyes, and the remnants of last night's festivities threatened to erupt from his stomach. He squeezed his eyes shut, desperately trying to piece together the fragmented memories of the previous evening.  

There was the pub, of course, celebrating the end of a particularly grueling exam week. And then… there was you. Laughter, shared stories, a warmth that spread through him that had nothing to do with the ale. He vaguely recalled kissing you, the memory sending a jolt through him.

A gentle shake on the shoulder startled him from his reverie. He squinted open his eyes to see your glorious form silhouetted against the window. You were dressed in something ridiculously impractical – thigh-high boots? In your dorm room? Or were you in his room? His brain, still sluggish from the hangover, couldn't quite grasp the logic.

"We have Anth 364 in 15 and I am not driving you there," you declared, your voice laced with amusement. You zipped up those ridiculous boots, the sound strangely hypnotic. A frown creased your brow as you leaned closer.  "Glorfindel, can you hear me? Wake up!"

The warmth of your breath tickled his ear, and Glorfindel's heart hammered against his ribs. He was this close to you, close enough to feel the heat radiating from your body. His traitorous lips twitched, the memory of your almost-kiss. But then you spoke again, your voice laced with a familiar authority that snapped him back to reality.

"Get dressed, our group needs to present this week." There you were, his group leader – the one person who could turn from a pleasurable fantasy into a focused, albeit slightly grouchy, leader. He forced a smile, the weight of responsibility settling on his shoulders.

That's how you both met. A silly group project for a gen-ed that every single one of your group members made a point to whine about. And, you, the biochem major somehow found yourself leading a pack of finance students who operated on "good vibes only" logic.  You were a force of nature in that class, a try-hard who wouldn't hesitate to pull an all-nighter or two to get an A.

He loved you, the minute you self-designated yourself as the leader in that class full of idgafs. There was something undeniably attractive about your determination, the way your brow furrowed in concentration and your eyes sparkled with a competitive fire.

Glorfindel would not have believed last night to be true if not for your presence in his room. How he had ended up belting out karaoke with you, the picture of drunken abandon, was a complete mystery.  And the even bigger mystery was how you, the ever-responsible leader, had somehow ended up at his favorite bar at the exact right time.  Perhaps it was fate, or maybe it was just the cheap beer specials.

"Right," he mumbled, scrambling out of bed. "Presentation… yes, of course. Wouldn't want to let the team down, would we?" He avoided your gaze, a blush creeping up his neck. The group presentation suddenly felt like a monumental task, a distraction he desperately needed from the confusing feelings you stirred within him.

But as he stole a glance at you, his heart skipped a beat. Maybe, just maybe, there was more to this biochem brainiac than he initially thought. And maybe, just maybe, last night wasn't a fluke.

He for once couldn't find himself to skip a single class with you in it. The looming specter of the semester ending sent a shiver down his spine. The thought of diverging paths, of your focused gaze no longer seeking his across the lecture hall, was unbearable. He had to do something, anything, to keep you in his life.

And so, dragging his glorious nude self from the bed, Glorfindel dressed faster than light. Following you, to get the ride that you never offered. “Wait for me!” He called after you, knowing full well that a ride in your well loved Honda Civic was not to be missed.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #glorfindel x reader #what in the hell is happening event #no finance majors were harmed in the making of this fic

[lamemaster]

[lamemaster]

From One World to Another

Request: Please spin the wheel for Aegnor 🛐🥺

Pairing: Aegnor x Reader

Genre: Hogwarts au (yaaaay)

AN: Thanks for requesting 🥹I am befuddled by how well this fits (What in the Hell is Happening Event) Last day tmr

"The mudbloods are at it again," Celegorm snorted, a sneer twisting his perfect features. Aegnor rolled his eyes and glanced out the window, where you stood under the shade of a towering oak with your friend.

You were lost in one of those strange dances the humans called TikToks, your movements surprisingly graceful despite the odd rhythm.

Aegnor couldn't help but admire it. Unlike the elves, bound by tradition and cautious with their magic, humans like you embraced life with reckless abandon.  He longed to understand that world, a yearning that gnawed at him despite his upbringing.  A world he could only glimpse through stolen glances at the strange glowing device you called a phone.

Elves, with their long memories and deep respect for tradition, found themselves drawn to Slytherin.  Though some outliers existed, like Elrond, a Ravenclaw scholar obsessed with elven lore, Slytherin's green banner often fluttered above elven dwellings.

Humans, with their fleeting lives, burned brighter.  Gryffindor, the house of the brave, housed the vast majority.  But there were exceptions – a cunning Hufflepuff pioneer known for his loyalty to his coven, and a Ravenclaw witch whose fascination with magical flora rivaled any elves. 

This Gryffindor bravery, however, wasn't always viewed favorably by the elves.  Many elven elders often scoffed at their recklessness, a stark contrast to the calculated actions favored by his people.

Dwarves, with their insatiable thirst for knowledge and mastery of craft, naturally gravitated towards Ravenclaw. Their halls echoed with debates on engineering marvels and the secrets hidden within the earth. 

Finally, the Hobbits found a home in Hufflepuff. Their love for community, loyalty to their kin, and dedication to the simple pleasures of life resonated deeply with the house known for its badger sigil.

A pang of longing twisted within Aegnor. He yearned for a glimpse into your world, a world documented on those strange glowing rectangles humans called "phones."  He knew it was a forbidden desire, an act frowned upon by most elves. Only his Uncle Feanor, a surprising and rare elven Gryfindor dared to dabble in such human contraptions.

Sitting in the back row, the only sliver of sunlight stubbornly fighting its way through a cracked window was Snape's nemesis. Aegnor sighed, flipping through his well-worn textbook filled with elven script that seemed to dance before his eyes.

The acrid scent of burnt Bubotuber pus mingled with the sweet aroma of gillyweed, a constant reminder of the strange concoctions brewing around him

Snape's incessant droning about cauldron safety did little to alleviate his growing boredom. Suddenly, a cacophony of crashing metal and sputtering flames erupted from across the room, followed by Snape's scathing pronouncement, "Five points from Gryffindor!"

Aegnor winced, his gaze briefly flickering towards the source of the commotion.  There, you stood, exiled from the Gryffindor table amidst a chorus of giggles.

You were a whirlwind of Gryffindor red and mischief, your hair escaping its usual braid.  Without a moment's hesitation, you marched towards Aegnor, a mischievous glint sparkling in your eyes.

"Mind if I join you guys?" you chirped, settling down on the empty stool beside him before he could even formulate a response. 

Before he could stammer a response, his sister, Galadriel, cut in with a frosty, "How about no."

Aegnor felt the urge to glare at his sister. He stole a glance at you, half-expecting you to wilt under Galadriel's icy stare. 

Instead, you met her gaze with a playful glint in your eyes, a barely suppressed smile tugging at the corner of your lips. "Cool, glad that we agree," you replied shaking his hand. 

A sheepish grin spread across your face as you leaned closer to Aegnor, your voice barely a whisper. "Mind sharing the textbook?" you pleaded, a hint of desperation lacing your tone. 

Your own copy lay abandoned on the desk, its pages marred by a splatter of what could only be some sort of disastrous purple goo. 

For a moment, Aegnor felt a flicker of surprise, a jolt of something akin to shyness as you invaded his personal space. He wasn't used to such casual closeness, especially not with someone from Gryffindor.

He stole a glance at his sister, Galadriel. Her lips were pursed in disapproval, a silent reminder of the boundaries he was teetering on.  

But something, perhaps the endearing lack of inhibition in your eyes, won him over. With a barely audible sigh, he shifted the book closer to you, his voice a low murmur as he mumbled the instructions Snape had droned on about mere moments ago.

And that is how his world collided with yours. Reforming itself for the eternity of his life.

#the silmarillion #silmarillion x reader #aegnor x reader #hogwart's au #aegnor #yearning #what in the hell is happening event

[lamemaster]

@doodle-pops writes an elf with fluffy feels:

Me, to the elf: You are now my elite employee 🥰

Domestic Life With Glorfindel Would Include...

𑁍 So first of all, domestic life with him would mainly happen when you two are back in Valinor when the both of you don’t have any strenuous work as heads of the House. This means that you two get to lay back and relax a lot more than usual.

𑁍 He’s going to be all over you more than ever (so if he wasn’t in the beginning) and fewer duties means more time in private. He’s not going to let you go so easily so you’d be locked up with him more often.

𑁍 With domestic bliss in your life, things go a lot slower than back in Middle Earth but you’re both able to savour every moment better now.

𑁍 I did mention that he is a good cook, he wasn’t the best when you first started dating him because as a Lord, he was always busy with meeting and war and protecting people, so he never had or made the time to learn how to but when you came into his life, he made the effort because he always saw how you’d cook for him and so he wanted to reciprocate.

𑁍 So, now that you’re in your domestic bliss with less work on your plate, he’s going to be doing the cooking more often than you, sometimes if he sees you cooking either he makes you leave the kitchen so he can finish up or he joins you. He has it in his head that he’s a pro chef now.

𑁍 He’s going to help with household chores but he’s not going to be the best help because you probably never get anything done correctly or on time. He’ll constantly distract you from everything. He’s one of those people who starts cleaning and then finds a whole bunch of items and forgets cleaning to play with them. You’ll walk into the room and meet him covered in old items and playing with some toys from his childhood.

𑁍 Since he’s back in Valinor, this means that most if not all of his friends from the first age are reborn, so if you weren’t from the first age, he’s taking you to meet them. Lunch dates or dinner dates will include his friends and you so all of you can get to know each other and also do lots of catching up.

𑁍 If you two didn’t have children in Middle Earth because of all the chaos unfolding, then he’s going to bring having children up since it’s a good time and there’s no impending doom raining down on your heads.

𑁍 This means that he has more free time on his hands to romance you all the time without having to worry about someone interrupting, so I hope you have tons of energy to keep up with him.

𑁍 When you do have a child (the rest would come after), your domestic life begins to feel halfway complete as though this was what you two were missing.

𑁍 He is ecstatic when a baby becomes a part of your domestic fairy-tale life. For him, everything is now perfect. His days are filled with more fun as the baby grows. He’ll be playing all sorts of games and taking them on tours around Valinor.

𑁍 Speaking of tours, if you weren’t born in Valinor this would be the most opportune time for him to show you around, you’ll be touring Valinor as a family showing off your little bundle of joy along the way while he’s pointing out to and them all the places, he told you about.

𑁍 “Yes, do you see that curved statue over there, the one wi- Oh, hello, yes this is our newest member of the family. Cute, aren’t they? – right anyway, like I was saying…”

𑁍 Your domestic life with him will be filled with joyous moments and this would be one of the times you’d truly see him at his happiest, knowing that he doesn’t have to leave you or vice versa, it calms his heart and puts an ease to his worries. He doesn’t need to be scared about something happening since you’re living in paradise with him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @ranhanabi777 @lilmelily @mysticmoomin @rain-on-my-umbrella @asianbutnotjapanese @batsyforyou @mcwentfandomtraveling @involuntaryspasms @stormchaser819 @aconstructofamind @addaigio @lamemaster @hermaeuswhora @zheiya

If you would like to be tagged, click the taglist link to join.

#glorfindel x reader #glorfindel headcanons #silmarillion x reader #family feels #they got a babyyyyy🤌🤌🤌

[lamemaster]

Hamlet ✨rizz✨ but make it Tolkien

Túrin Turambar (2021)

I still cherish this fanart <3

#turin turambar #turin #tolkien #silmarillion

[lamemaster]

Gods Who Kneel

Request: @asianbutnotjapanese- Can you spin the wheel for my baby Fingon please 🥺

Pairing: Fingon x Reader

Genre: Mythology au

AN: Thanks for requesting 🥹I love this au so much.

(What in the Hell is Happening Event)

What makes a fallen God? What strips the divine of divinity? 

For you, it had been the love of a mortal. A harp-bearer whose melodies wove through the temple like moonlight, each note a caress that resonated deep within your divine core. You found yourself drawn to the music, your heart a traitor whispering along with the mournful strains.

Sacrilegious!" the other deities boomed, their voices echoing through the celestial halls. Shame burned at your core, yet a defiant spark ignited within you. How could they understand the yearning that Fingon's devotion had awakened, a longing you barely recognized in yourself?"

While others spouted hate in the title of “Spawn of the Devil.”

Your love for Fingon had made you into a broken God. Yet, never in your life had you ever been this fulfilled. A simple hymn that deserved your blessing instead took your heart. He had played with such bare conviction that even the eons of your existence or the love of your parents could not have held you in the heavens away from him.

He had been yours since infancy, his mind, his heart, forever imprinted with your image. From his first wobbly steps to the man he was now, Fingon had always been your devoted priest, your loyal servant. And now, his love resonated with a desperate yearning you couldn't ignore.

And so, in your love you knelt in front of him. In your form with the light of godhood. An act that led to your banishment from your enraged father. But you were only so much pleased to follow the order.

To join your beloved on the plane of mortals. 

A traitorous smile played on your lips despite the churning in your gut. You were a god, yet banished. Yet, the prospect of a life with Fingon outweighed the celestial throne.

Driven by your love, you knelt before him, your divine form ablaze with the fading embers of godhood. It was a crown slipping, the celestial energy draining from you with each passing moment. You reached for Fingon, the warmth of his hand a stark contrast to your own, which flickered in and out of existence like a dying flame

He hesitated for a heartbeat, his eyes wide with a mixture of awe and terror. Then, with a gentle murmur of your name, he wrapped his arms around your shimmering form. His voice, a mere whisper that spoke volumes, echoed in the silence, "You…came." His words held the weight of the impossible, the knowledge that you might have exposed his mortal mind to a world he wasn't meant to see.

"It was a choice," your voice raspy from the toll of transformation. "I chose you. No eternity is worth anything without you." You cupped his face, brushing aside the braided golden ribbons that had always captivated you.

Fate was set in stone. You were his. Just his. Not a God to be shared with anyone.

Fate's decree echoed in the silence. You were his, a celestial being tethered to a mortal man. A tremor ran through Fingon's hand as he grasped yours, the weight of your sacrifice settling on him like a mantle of stars. Could a human heart truly hold the love of a fallen god?

Would he, the man who had dedicated his life to the divine, dare to reach for the hand of a fallen god, knowing the consequences could shake the very foundations of his faith?

That perhaps was your true punishment. To watch a shadow of uncertainty creep into Fingon's eyes as he held your fading form close. A love story born of rebellion, but with an ending yet unwritten, a dance with fate that could either blossom or crumble in the face of an uncertain future.

Fate worse than any banishment or woe.

#silmarillion x reader #fingon x reader #fingon the valiant #mythology au #what in the hell is happening event #role reversal esque #angst