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#little turin
elyksina · 1 year
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Fuck it have two over-rendered Orodreth & Turin portraits
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ishipmutualrespect · 3 months
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Would you watch Harry juggle if that was all a concert was?
I’d watch Harry just exist if that was all a concert was tbh 😭😭😭 so yeah I’d gladly watch him juggle
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lyssq · 2 months
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Quickening his pace, he left the city through a growing blizzard of white feathers that blanketed the streets, roofs, and balconies where they remained untouched until the wind blew them away.
I am prepared for this to get no notes but also I simply must make art of this scene which absolutely destroyed me. Listen the part with Farilane already made me sob then you hit me with this? 😭😭😭
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melestasflight · 1 year
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For reasons I can't explain, I seem to enjoy pairing Maeglin with many people.
So here's how I've written him:
Elven Songs and Dwarven Bells - queerplatonic Celebrimbor/Maeglin in Himlad after his leaving Nan Elmoth with Aredhel.
Refuge in the Dark - complicated Idril/Maeglin as they seek refuge in each other's bodies during the nights in Gondolin.
Stars Above, Voice Within - slow burn Túrin/Maeglin in Nargothrond and the reforging of Gurthang (canon divergence).
And here are a few of my favorite unique takes from folks who write Maeglin's relationships so well:
How to Have Dinner With Your Cousin and No Longer Mourn by @jaz-the-bard - Idril, Maeglin, (and Tuor) learning to live together from Gondolin to Valinor. Emotional rollercoasters.
the prince and the knight by @russingon - hot and totally unexpected Glorfindel/Maeglin with lovely Gondolin worldbuilding.
Cracks in an old mirror by @joyfullynervouscreator - a beautiful, heart-wrenching Ecthelion/Maeglin, post-canon Valinor.
This last one is accompanied by @toastedbuckwheat's gorgeous art. Actually here, just look at all of Adam's maegthelion art - this ship has fully crawled into my heart.
This list is far from complete, and fic recs are always welcomed and appreciated in return.
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thelordofgifs · 8 months
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I have very little interest in Túrin as a character, but I DO adore all the tragic women he interacted with and think they deserve sapphic happy ending fix-it AUs. So! You’ve heard of Finduilas/Nienor (excellent ship) and also of Morwen/Aerin (wonderful and heartbreaking ship) but may I please introduce you to my newest rarepair, Lalaith/Nellas?
“oh op Lalaith died when she was three—” shut up shut up shut up she’s alive to ME ok
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polutrope · 3 months
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For the modern AU holiday prompts @i-did-not-mean-to requested Beren + accidental drunkenness, and MoonLord requested Thingol, Beleg, Túrin, and Mablung + Decorating a tree. ~2.2k words, rated G. [The Edain in this AU are officially whatever age and relation I want them to be.] Posting these to AO3, here. Prompt list (prompts closed). Beleria Cast of Characters
The flamboyant man at the booth in the back cried out, “Another round for the bar!” and Beren and Lúthien joined the patrons in a celebratory whoop.
Lúthien threw her head back and laughed as a server set two more two more beers on the table.
“I can’t believe this guy,” she said to Beren. “Who is he?”
“His name is Saeros,” the server answered. “A regular. I think he owns a record label or something. Celebrating a chart topper.” She smiled and cleared their empty glasses. “Enjoy.”
“No way,” Lúthien said, and left her mouth hanging open.
“What?” said Beren. Lúthien continued to gape. “What, what? You know him?”
“Yeah! Saeros Green. He offered my brother a record deal years ago.”
“And Daeron turned it down?” Beren asked.
Lúthien dipped her chin affirmatively with an air of pride. “He did. The guy is a smarmy bastard. Milks his artists for everything they’ve got. I mean, look at him!” Lúthien said, gesticulating with both arms in his direction. “Look at all that bling! And the red velvet suit, on a Thursday afternoon, really? Looks like he got in a fight with the Yule display at Mírdain Mall!”
“Ssshh sssh,” Beren said, giggling. “He’ll hear you! Anyway, I like him. Free booze!” He raised his glass in a toast and took a large gulp.
Lúthien was laughing when he lowered it. “You have foam in your beard!”
Beren grinned, making no effort to remedy the situation. “How do I look? More wizened?”
“Like an idiot!” Lúthien blurted, and laughed again.
She was so beautiful. Beren fell into a besotted stupor, staring at her face lit with mirth, listening to her musical laughter… he could die happy right here, right now, getting day-drunk with the most beautiful woman in the world—
“Beren,” she said. “Beren! Your phone is ringing!”
“What, birdie?” he said, surfacing.
“Your phone!” she said, and shoved it into his hand. “Someone’s calling you.”
He looked at he call display: Morwen Ethel-Wang. “Shit,” he said. “Shitshitshit.”
The call dropped before he could answer. Lúthien stared, awaiting an explanation.
Beren exhaled a long breath before giving one. “You remember a few months ago when we talked about my buddy Húrin’s son staying with us for a few days while his wife is at a conference in town?”
“Oh yeah!” Lúthien said. “When’s that happening?”
“Um,” said Beren. “Today. They’re at our place now.”
“Shit,” said Lúthien.
*
On the monitor, the minutes of the last City Council meeting swam in and out of Elu’s vision. He sighed. The permanent bikeway through Hithlum park had been voted down. Again.
His eyes drifted to the thick folder of letters his intern Beleg had dropped on his desk earlier, from the Hithlum Homeowner’s Association — all variations on the same template, laying out the supposed dangers of a “bike superhighway” through a “family-oriented” neighbourhood. Since when were bicycles dangerous? He pushed the folder aside. Well, they got what they wanted.
It was those damn developers from Valin! Hithlum used to be the alternative neighbourhood back in the 80s, where the artists and students hung out, now it was overrun with wealthy— Elu took a deep breath. He valued the diversity of Beleria. He did. But by god if it didn’t make it impossible to get anything done in this city! You would think, as Mayor, that your word actually meant something—
His phone pinged.
Lúthien💮💗
Hey papa! I know you’re working but I have a biiiig favour to ask.
3:14pm
Elu Singh-Goel
What is it, sweetie?
3:15pm
Lúthien💮💗
Sooo Beren has this friend and his kid was supposed to stay with us this weekend and we kinda forgoy
forgot*
Anyway him and his mom are at our place now and we’re… not lol
3:16pm
Elu Singh-Goel
Oh? Where are you?
3:18pm
Lu?
3:21pm
Lúthien💮💗
Sorry!!
We went to Gabilgathol for lunch and accidentally got drunk
3:23pm
Elu drew back from his phone. That was not like his daughter. It was times like these he found it most difficult to accept her choice of partner. Beren was an admirable man, with respectable ambitions, but he was so young. Accidentally drunk…
Lúthien💮💗
Some guy was buying rounds for the house lol
3:24pm
Elu Singh-Goel
I see. And how do I come into this?
3:25pm
Lúthien💮💗
Can she bring Túrin to the office?
3:25pm
Túrin is the kid
Just for a couple hours! Nellas says she can take him tonight if we’re not sobered up
hahaha
3:26pm
Beren says he’s quiet. Just give him some crayons and paper.
3:28pm
Elu’s thumbs tapped out ‘OK’ before his mind had a chance to catch up. He stopped them, hovering over the send button. What had happened to him? There was a time he would have locked Lúthien up in her room for the weekend for getting drunk at 3pm on a Thursday! — but he couldn’t very well lock up an adult woman. Certainly not one he was going to lose.
Well, not lose. Not entirely — that had almost happened, when he’d tried to talk her out of marrying Beren, but he’d soon repented of that mistake when she disappeared for two weeks without a word to anyone. A cold current shivered down Elu’s spine. That had been a terrible winter.
But now, every day was another closer to her and Beren moving to Dead Man’s Isle. It was ridiculous: she had not needed him nearly half her life now, and yet Elu’s heart dropped when he thought of her so far away. Not around the corner, not where he could drop by on an evening stroll to say hello with a container of leftovers or a tin of Melian’s homemade lembas biscuits.
Because of all this, he had become a complete sucker and lost all ability to say no to her. And damn it if she didn’t know it, he thought with a rueful smile.
Elu Singh-Goel
OK.
3:26pm
Lúthien💮💗
Omg thanks so much papa!!
Beren will tell Morwen to bring him by
3:26pm
Elu Singh-Goel
Don’t to worry about it. I think I can send my intern to pick them up. Tell them to wait at The Dimbar.
3:27pm
Elu set the phone down, then picked up the receiver on his desk phone and dialed Beleg’s extension.
“Hey big guy, what’s up?”
Elu smiled. He really ought to impress a more professional attitude on his interns (it’s what they were there to learn after all), but there was something… rejuvenating about this one’s breezy familiarity with him — and besides, it was good for the ego to have some carefree college student call you “big guy” once in a while when you had a pile of letters on our desk addressing you as “Your Worship”.
“Beleg,” said Thingol. “Would you be able to run a little personal errand for me?”
“Sure. What’s up?”
“I need you to go pick up a kid and bring him to the office.”
*
Half-an-hour later Beleg rounded the corner at the end of the hall, running with a lanky, dark-haired boy clinging to his back.
“Here he is!” Beleg announced, and let the boy down. “Túrin, the Master of Fate! Isn’t that right?” He ruffled the boy’s hair. “We outsmarted fate six times on the way over, didn’t we little guy?”
“Red lights aren’t fate,” Túrin said, in the tone of a child who thinks he knows better. “They are for controlling traffic flow.”
“Beleg.” Elu did his best to conceal his amusement with a frown. “I hope you were not racing lights in a municipal vehicle again.”
“No sir,” said Beleg. “No racing. All very strategic.”
“Mm, I don’t think I want to know.” Elu rose from his hair and came around the front of the desk. “It’s nice to meet you, Túrin. Welcome to the office of the Mayor. I’m Elu.”
Túrin did not look impressed, and made no move to take Elu’s hand when offered. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Túrin.” Then he turned back to Beleg. “Can we go on your computer now like your promised?”
Elu lifted a brow, for Beleg’s benefit, as he addressed Túrin. “He promised you, did he? Funny, because Beleg does what I tell him to do, and I do not remember telling him to do that.”
Beleg laughed, not sounding nearly as nervous as he should have.
“Oh.” Túrin paused, visibly processing this new information. “Well can you tell him to play games with me?”
Elu had to laugh at the boy’s quick tactical adjustment. “I’m afraid Beleg doesn’t get to play games at work. But, while he was off picking you up, I thought of something else we could do.”
“What?” said Túrin and Beleg at once.
“Well,” Elu perched on the desk so he needn’t tower above them, “in the storage room there should be one of those fake trees and a box of decorations. We used to set it up in my office every year. I’d forgotten all about it, but since we’ve got you here, Túrin, I thought it would be a nice thing to do. What do you think?”
Túrin seemed to be deep in thought.
“Hey!” Beleg nudged him. “Sounds fun to me!”
“I don’t know,” Túrin said. “I barely know you. Tree decorating is for families.”
“Oh,” said Elu. “I suppose it’s something families often do together, yes. But they can be set up by coworkers, too, or even strangers, like us. I bet we won’t be strangers when we’re done.”
“We didn’t get a tree at my house this year,” Túrin disclosed. “My dad is away for Yule so my mom said we don’t need one.”
“I see,” Elu said, beginning to lose hope in this venture.
“All the more reason to set one up here!” Beleg offered.
“Yeah.” Túrin shrugged. “I guess.”
“Excellent!” said Elu. “Beleg, why don’t you take Túrin down the storage and have a look for it?”
*
They were gone a long time, and Elu was just beginning to wonder if he should go looking for them when they appeared toting two large boxes — and another of the interns.
“Hope you don’t mind if Mablung joins us!” Beleg said cheerily, setting the tree box upright in the corner of the room. Mablung placed the box of ornaments on Elu’s desk. “He said he was bored, I said he could help us.”
“Of course, of course. The more the merrier!” Elu said absently, distracted by fiddling with computer speakers in an effort to get the music to play. He groaned and threw up his hands. “Can one of you young people figure out why these blasted speakers have turned themselves off again?”
To his surprise, it was Túrin who answered the summons, running around behind the desk to investigate.
“It’s muted,” he said almost at once, and tapped a key on the keyboard. The bouncy beat of I’m the Happiest Christmas Tree spilled from the speakers.
The other three laughed, but Túrin crinkled his nose and hit skip on the song.
Soon, Beleg and Mablung had the tree set up and were arguing about the best placement for the string of lights. Once that was decided, they turned to debating how best to balance the bauble distribution.
Túrin seemed more interested in rooting through the box for the most unique ornaments. Elu watched him wistfully. He had not realised how much he missed being around children and their infectious wonderment at the world.
“I like this one,” Túrin said, pulling out a golden dragon. “My dad has one like it.”
“Oh, yes, very nice!” Elu said. “Why don’t you keep it?”
“Really?” said Túrin, his face brightening. He did not wait for confirmation before he shoved it in his pocket.
“Hey, what’s this now?” Beleg ambled over. “Mayor Man is giving away his ornament collection? Mablung, let’s see what’s in here!”
Beleg peered into the box, shoving aside some silver baubles and pulling out a long black icicle.
“Oh, sick,” he said, letting it dangle from a finger. “This is some goth sh— stuff.”
“Interesting,” said Elu, watching the strange ornament twirl. “I am not sure where that one came from.”
“Ohh, mystery ornament!” Beleg enthused. “Can I have it?”
“Really, you want that?” Mablung put in. “That’s weird, man. It looks like a weapon.”
“No way, it’s cool!” said Beleg.
“Well, if you want it,” said Elu, “I certainly don’t.”
“No, I want it!” Túrin shouted, and closed his fist around the icicle.
“Hey, kid, whoa, easy,” said Beleg. “You could just ask nice—!”
Beleg screamed. The ornament flew towards the ceiling, then arced back down and shattered on the floor. Túrin careened and toppled backwards, just missing Mablung lunging to break his fall.
Beleg gawked at his finger, which was bent backwards as a very unnatural angle.
“You dislocated my finger!” Beleg cried.
“Damn,” said Elu, and he was thinking neither of his injured employee nor of the crying child on the floor, but of the weeks of workplace accident reporting paperwork he’d just created for himself.
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hildorien · 2 years
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Everyone always comes at Findu, Gwindor, and Turin for being messy and shit but like few doors down Idril, Tuor, and Maeglin are existing and what happens happens there and I think that’s such a unfair situation to compare them on a personal drama level.
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Túrin: if anything happens I'm going to kill everyone in this room and then myself
Mablung: don't you mean if anything happens to your friends or family or beloved pet
Túrin: I said what I said
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anipologist · 1 year
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NEREB AND DUNGALEF....
(I do feel like I should give him points for messing with the spelling to make it flow better though, Dnugalef just doesn't have the same ring).
And nothing says "I am desperately trying to trick one of the people who helped sing the world into existence" like let me make sure my fake name which is actually one of my real names backwards sounds good. Actually Finrod is definitely related to Feanor after all.
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that-angry-noldo · 2 years
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You Don't Know My Name - part two
[in which Fingolfin is questioning his life choices (again), Finarfin is still an amnesiac and none of them thinks, "hmm, our names sound kinda similar, wonder what that's about"]
[Part one]
Fingolfin looked at the place where a warrior stood just a moment ago. On a blood stain. On the corpse of an orc. On the flask thrown aside. Fingolfin concluded that he was not, in fact, dreaming. Fingolfin made several notes.
First, never believe Feanor when he boasts that the local roads are the safest in the kingdom and are impeccably guarded.
Second, don't believe idiots (Feanors) who assure you that their escort is top class and eats orcs for breakfast.
He turned, looked around the battlefield. A dozen dead elves. Four more were wounded, the severity of the injuries varying from elf to elf.
His father stood staring at the nearest body. His eyes were wide open.
Fingolfin turned once more to the spot where the boy had been wounded, and bit his tongue to keep from swearing. He cursed the day the heavens decided that Nolofinwe without magic was exactly what this world lacked.
And now a mage, a rather strong mage, is in their forest, which may or may not be infested with orcs. Together with his wounded son, whom - to be honest, Nolo would not have given him more than twelve years.
He cut the distance to his father, who still hadn't recovered from the shock, and took him by the shoulders.
"Are you injured?" he asked quietly. There was no answer.
Nolofinwe took him aside and sat him down on the grass. He threw off his cloak and wrapped it around Finwe's shoulders. 
He lingered for a second, then stood up.
Nolofinwe appreciated his ability to set priorities. At the moment, the priority was to make sure that aid was already on its way and to organize a camp of some kind. He couldn't let himself be caught off guard again.
His people - no, Feanaro's people - had already sent a signal through the Osanwe; help was due in an hour or two, though knowing Fëanor and his love for Finwe, Fingolfin expected to see his half-brother much sooner.
Fingolfin was thinking about the orcs. 
He ordered them to take the bodies of the fallen to the side, to close their eyes, and to cover them with cloaks.
(He tried not to think about how quickly he began to call the elves, who were riding next to him an hour ago, bodies).
Fingolfin was thinking about the orcs. It was alarming how they managed to make their way so deep into the country. The dull rage with which they growled, swinging their swords, was even more unsettling. 
Fingolfin thought that ten of them had fallen. The fact that they were not ready for it. That nothing could have predicted it. That if it wasn't for - 
If it wasn't for the gray-eyed stranger and his son-
He forbade himself to think about "if it wasn'ts".
Be that as it may, Fingolfin was thinking about the orcs. For the first time, he felt relief at the thought that Fëanor would soon be here.
He had only an hour to wait.
"Nolo." 
He turned to his father, bowed his head as usual.
"Where is that man?" The king's voice sounded... quiet. Broken. 
"He disappeared," the prince simply answered, looking impatiently at the road.
"Disappeared," Finwe said dully before falling silent.
Fingolfin tried not to think about the fact that his father had not even asked if his youngest son was all right.
~
Fëanor did arrive quickly, rushing to his father, clutching him in his arms, ignoring the orc corpses.
Nolofinwe closed his eyes, separating himself from everything for a second. He could still catch fragments of his older half-brother's worried babbling, though. 
Something in his heart clenched, and Fingolfin pursed his lips. He once had a brother whom he should not have called a half-brother.
Arafinwe had golden hair and large gray eyes.
He pulled himself out of his thoughts. Arafinwe disappeared decades ago. It's not worth it - he can't start drowning in memories now.
He did not notice how the camp was made, how Fëanor and his father jumped on their horses.
"Find him," ordered Finwe quietly. "I want to thank him." 
You can thank me, too, thought Fingolfin, but remained silent. He approached the healer, took a bag with medicine from her - he remembered that the boy was wounded.
And then Fingolfin was left alone.
Well. That's all there is to know about the value of a Noldor prince's life. He clenched his teeth, holding back a furious scream.
Fingolfin, Prince of the Noldor, son of Finwe - YES, FINWE, I AM STILL YOUR SON - was left alone on the forest road, surrounded by gloomy trees and the bodies of orcs.
He shouted. In despair. In powerlessness. The crows flew into the sky in fright, cawing anxiously.
He wanted to break down, to go away, run into the forest, forget the path, disappear, disappear, no.
It will kill your father.
You remember what happened when Arafinwe disappeared, right?
Fingolfin took a breath, tied his horse to a branch, and went into the forest.
Fingolfin had no magic. He couldn't make the stones glow like Feanaro did. Couldn't calm people down with his sole voice like Findis did. He could not charm the crowd with his singing, as Makalaure could. However, as an un-gifted person, Fingolfin knew about magic. Uh.
A Lot.
It was the product of hours spent in the library trying desperately to figure out what was wrong with him, and the systematic cramming of theory years later. Yes, Fingolfin could confidently say that he knew more about magic than the average mage. Irony of fate, perhaps.
So, Fingolfin knew that targeted teleportation took a long time, while spontaneous teleportation could belong to the category of magical emissions provoked by severe stress and a desperate, uncontrolled desire to get to safety. Such an emission carried the mage a short distance to a place that was the least similar to the association of "danger" in his head.
Therefore, he had to get on the trail of the warrior soon.
He wanted to get on the trail soon.
He doubted that the warrior had the necessary medicine for his son.
~
Finarfin had experience working with wounds. He knew how to stop bleeding, clean cuts, find healing herbs, and apply bandages; he had done it many times on himself and others; sometimes, as Eärwen ran her fingers over his scars, he would smile, thanking the gods for their assistance.
He never thought that prayers for help would pour from his lips, not as thanks, but as a plea. He never thought that his head could hold so many voices at once. He never thought he would panic over a simple injury.
He had never thought that his Finrod might be wounded, that he might lie before him, with a red stain on his shirt, that from his lips would come this cry, this silent cry, that—
The hands worked mechanically, treating the wound, the lips whispered soothing words. Thoughts were begging, begging to do something, begging to hide; his eyes burned, but he could not cry while his son was in danger, while his wound-
He blessed Eru that the wound was not fatal, that it would not leave his son crippled. He cursed himself for not being ready, for relaxing too much, for leaving the health and regeneration potions at home, for not bringing bandages.
He couldn't even heat the water.
A branch cracked.
Finarfin shuddered, his hand twitching for the knife.
It was a dark-haired warrior.
"Back," growled Finarfin, leaning over his son, not taking his eyes off the stranger, putting an order in his voice.
The elf shuddered; for a second his eyes were clouded by the effect of magic, but he frowned, blinked, and bowed his head.
"No." 
"Go away." 
"I want to help." 
Finarfin almost wanted to snarl, saying that he could manage it himself, but hesitated at the last moment. He couldn't even heat water.
He clenched his hands into fists and nodded.
The warrior sighed with relief and got to work.
~
Nolofinwe worked quickly, precisely, and carefully.
Remove any blood from the wound. Uncork the crimson-pink health potion, pour half a glass on the wound; unwind the bandage, bandage the wound with the help of a warrior; make him drink a few drops of regeneration, put a palm on his hot forehead.
The warrior seemed petrified. The only sign that he was alive were the eyes that looked at his son's face with a mixed expression: anxiety, fear, hope...
Nolofinwe put the bottles and the remains of the bandages into a bag.
Now, without Nolofinwe's movements, his low voice, and the goal of saving the boy - an awkward silence reigned between the two warriors.
Which wasn't ideal. Nolofinwe had an order, after all. Bring the warrior to his father.
"You saved my son." 
The warrior's voice sounded tired.
"You saved me," Fingolfin shrugged, his gaze fixed on the boy.
"What is your name?" 
"Nolofinwe." 
"Nolo... finwe," the warrior exhaled. "Mine's Finarfin." 
It was strange that the warrior - Finarfin - used the Sindarin version of his name, but Fingolfin said nothing.
He got up, turned to Finarfin.
He had golden hair and large, tired gray eyes. For a second he  thought-
Nothing. Not now. 
"Your son needs help," he said. "My father has the best healers in the kingdom. Tirion isn't very fat from here. The forest, on the other hand, will be dangerous for you." 
Finarfin looked at him for a few seconds, then stood up and lifted his son in his arms. Fingolfin sighed with relief.
He turned and led them down the path to the road. 
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art3m1s05 · 2 years
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EUROVISION DOESNT HAVE TO BE GOOD JUST GAY, SORRY I DONT MAKE THE RULES
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frc-ambaradan · 2 years
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It's XXXIV Turin International Book Fair time!
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Topolino Special Edition n.2, volume dedicated to Turin Book Fair (2019). Cover by Silvia Ziche.
The Salone Internazionale del Libro di Torino (Turin International Book Fair) is Italy's largest trade fair for books and Europe's second largest right after the Frankfurter Buchmesse.
And not only trade fair, but also conferences, workshops, meetings with the authors and countless secondary events!
This year edition (19th-23rd May)'s gonna be even more massive, at least according to the organization ^^
(And then there was the time when Milan tried to steal it from us, but I won't spend words on it because their Book Fair was a gigantic flop... eh eh! that's divine retribution! 😈😈)
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sybilhallward · 2 years
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I might be going to bed covered in anti-inflammatory bandaids, but at least tomorrow I get to go to a conference about queer studies in Turin
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ithacanradio · 2 years
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a personal favourite is when im riding around in food delivery getup and little babies just call me names like this kid a second ago who pointed at me and screamed HAMBUVGEV
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eileen-crys · 2 years
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~~~
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ragazza-paradiso · 2 years
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i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts i’m not jealous of all the eurofans getting to meet esc acts
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